Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What I don’t understand...” Arthur stated, without looking up from his desk. He trailed off, playing with the feathered end of a quill. Merlin continued picking up clothes and putting them into a basket, focused on his task.

“Well there are plenty of things you don’t understand, sire. Could you be a bit more specific?”

It didn’t elicit the response he was hoping for, as Arthur’s brow just furrowed further. 

“Why don’t you trust me?” Arthur finally raised his gaze from his desk. 

Taken aback, Merlin wasn’t sure how to respond. “What do you mean? Of course I trust you.” There’s so many directions this could go, and Merlin didn’t particularly like any of them.

“You didn’t trust me enough to tell the truth about what happened with Morgana.” Arthur countered, finally standing up. 

This time, Merlin stiffened and had to swallow a hysterical laugh. He couldn’t very well tell Arthur to be more specific about that. He adjusted his grip on the basket. The most recent event being the assassination debacle, but there was little Merlin could have done in the way of trusting Arthur there. He imagined telling him, ‘Oh hullo Arthur! Just another day of preventing myself from killing you.’ Merlin wasn’t even aware of most of it, only understanding what was happening in brief snatches of clarity here and there. Had he wanted to tell Arthur (which he hadn’t), there would have been little opportunity to. It wasn’t a matter of trust, simply necessity. Arthur hadn’t needed to know. Merlin recognized this for what it was though. It was an opportunity to explain himself. To clear the air. But he couldn’t quite explain himself if it turned out to be one of the myriad of other ‘truth about what happened with Morgana’ moments.

And there was the simple matter of there being no way Arthur could have known Merlin was captured by Morgana in the first place. 

“Don’t just stand there gaping like a fish, Merlin. You’ll catch flies doing that.” Arthur groused, leaning against the desk. 

“Sorry sire, I jus-”

“You just what?” 

Merlin closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts. “I just don’t know-”

For the first time, Arthur raised his voice. “If you’re going to lie to me Merlin, at least do it while looking me in the eye.” 

Merlin opened his eyes, but continued to avoid Arthur's gaze. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” He threw his free hand out to the side helplessly, before finally looking Arthur dead-on. “I don’t know what prompted this. I’ve never meant to give the impression that I don’t trust you.”

Arthur snorted. “No, you’d much rather I be unaware of it, wouldn’t you?” 

“Arthur-” 

“Don’t.” He sighed, pinching his nose. “Just sit down, will you?” 

Merlin silently set the basket down and took a seat at the head of the table. Arthur turned as if to pace, but shook his head and sat down across from Merlin. His eyes never left Merlin's, as if challenging him to try and dodge the question again. Or as if trying to see through him. 

Arthur leaned back and clasped his fingers together. “One week ago, you were taken by Morgana.” Merlin opened his mouth as if to protest, but stopped when Arthur raised his hand. 

“You were captured by Morgana, and you didn’t even think to tell me. Why?” He looked away from Merlin. “Do you really trust me so little?” 

“No, Arthur -” Merlin sighed. His mind was racing. If Arthur followed him to Morgana’s hut, did he overhear anything? “It’s complicated.”

Arthur’s expression darkened as he glared at Merlin. “By all means then. Explain it.”

Grimacing, Merlin tried to relax his posture. He had tensed up and hunched over without even realizing. “Well. If you know about Morgana, did you know about the…” He wiggled his fingers vaguely. “The fomorrah?” 

Shaking his head, Arthur watched Merlin intently. 

“Well. It is a creature of dark magic. It could be used to control someone. Morgana thought to use me as a way to kill you.” Merlin swallowed nervously, watching as Arthur raised an eyebrow and gestured to go on. “When you found me, I wasn’t quite myself. I don’t remember anything after being in Morgana’s hut. I woke up in Gaius’ room after he had managed to stop the effects of the fomorrah.”

Momentarily lost in thought, Arthur took a drink from his goblet. “You were a pretty terrible assassin then, hm?” 

Merlin was almost offended. “I wasn’t in control!” Privately, he thought that he could kill Arthur much more efficiently than whatever he had been doing before. But it probably wouldn’t be a constructive thing to say at the moment. 

The king didn’t react no. “You’re free from her influence now?”

Merlin nodded.

“Alright. So you’ve explained why you didn’t tell me at first. But why not after?” 

Gods, he hated this. Merlin could usually read Arthur like a book. But his expression was impenetrable, and it was throwing him completely off balance. He was used to having more information than Arthur, and trying to navigate without was leaving him off-balance.

He looked away from Arthur, and shrugged. “I didn’t think you needed-” Glancing at Arthur’s expression, Merlin hesitated. Too late to backtrack here, he guessed. “I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“Try again.” Arthur’s tone brokered no argument, and gave away nothing as to what he was thinking.

“It’s the truth. And I didn’t think you’d believe me, entirely.” Merlin watched Arthur’s expression carefully. A vein jumped in his forehead, but he didn’t react right away. 

“And why, pray tell, would I have not believed you?” 

“Because of who was with her, commanding the bandits.” 

“Who was it, then?” 

Merlin looked at Arthur shrewdly. “I’m not sure if you're ready to hear that, sire.” 

Slamming a hand down on the table, Arthur exploded. “It is not your place to judge me ‘ready’ to hear something, Merlin. I am your king, and you will respect me as such.” He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he sounded only marginally calmer. “Stop acting so cagey, and just answer the goddamned questions.”

“Of course, sire.” Merlin replied in a clipped tone. He straightened, an expression of distaste plainly on his face. “The bandits took me to Morgana. But before that, I woke briefly. Agravaine was leading the group, giving instructions.”

Rather than ranting against the accusation as Merlin expected, Arthur stayed quiet. He took in a deep breath, and looked as though a great weight had fallen on his shoulders. “They were working together?” 

“Yes, sire.” 

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Arthur sat motionless, contemplative. The silence stretched out unbearably long. 

“Arthur?” he asked tentatively.  

Arthur didn’t react. Merlin took it as permission. 

“How did you know?” 

The candlelight flickered as the silence continued.

When Arthur finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Did you want to tell me anything else, Merlin?”

There were so many things Merlin still didn’t know. Did Arthur have any idea of his magic? Did someone follow him when he was captured? Was it Arthur? It couldn’t have been, he should have ran for it after he realized Merlin was lost. And Arthur hadn’t seemed to know about the fomorrah. He would have, had he stayed and listened to Morgana’s little monologue. Regardless of what Arthur was aware of, there was only one answer Merlin knew how to give. 

He shook his head silently. 

Arthur didn’t seem surprised. He waved his hand. “Leave me.” 

Chapter Text

Merlin avoided Arthur like the plague the next morning. He roped George into bringing breakfast, and set about doing any tasks that didn’t require him to be near Arthur. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do that forever. When it was time for Arthur to go out onto the practice pitch, Merlin reluctantly found his way to the armory. Arthur was suited up in awkward silence, occasional clangs the only sound being exchanged between them. 

Arthur’s demeanor was measured, impersonal, and unreadable. The king stalked outside, boots making a slight sucking sound as they pulled on the damp ground. Some of it was still wet after recent storms. It ruined the ‘angry king’ thing he had going on, but still. The water in the air clung to Merlin’s clothing, leaving him feeling damp and uncomfortable. 

During the training, the sky remained overcast and seemed to put a damper on all the knights. There was no friendly camaraderie, and little chatting. Arthur barked orders for drills, and when it came time to spar he ruthlessly dispatched each opponent. To his credit, he briefly listed what they should work on before dismissing them for the next knight.

Leon shot Arthur and Merlin looks throughout the day, seeming a bit nervous. At one point he crossed through the field and spoke to Arthur in a quiet, hurried tone. 

Merlin was too far to hear, though he tried to feign acting casual. He was sitting on a bench, leaning against a wooden beam next to the water barrel. Even straining his hearing, he couldn’t catch exactly what was being said. No matter. All he could do was wait, either way. Arthur hadn’t given him leave, nor had he assigned any additional chores. Frankly, he could leave if he truly wanted. Arthur had never stopped him in the past. But he’d rather stay within eyesight of Arthur, far too anxious to try and distract himself with chores. It’d probably be best to follow expectations as a servant, for the time being. As the end of the session neared, Merlin had almost started to doze despite the anxiety churning in his gut. But there was a sudden weight on his shoulder that caused him to wake with a start.

“Ahh, a little jumpy are you Merlin?” Gwaine smiled and lifted both hands in mock surrender, but his sword arm didn’t quite make it up all the way. He winced, and his smile looked more like a grimace. “The princess is in something of a mood today. Wake him up on the wrong side of the bed?” Gwaine elbowed Merlin playfully as he plopped down on the bench and started to ladle some water to drink.

Merlin shrugged, and silently tried to gather his thoughts. 

Given his sleep deprivation, it did not go well.

Every time he closed his eyes, Merlin remembered a little bit of what it was like under Morgana’s control. Nothing clear, but Arthur’s reminder dredged up some things he would rather not think about. Feeling sharp pain and something squirming in his neck, something horribly wrong. If it was simply witnessing what he had done, he could likely handle it. But it wasn’t just that. 

Merlin remembered the feeling of being given a purpose. A yearning, an emptiness at its lack of fulfillment. A gnawing hunger that tore away at his insides. This constant, growing itch that felt like tight skin from a sunburn. And thinking of Arthur dead - it was cool, sweet, relief. It unnerved Merlin deeply. Arthur was everything Merlin had built his life around. Protecting Arthur was damn near all of him, and every time he remembered having that taken away, it made him a little ill. 

“You alright?” Gwaine asked, taking a break from his drinking to look closely at Merlin’s face.

Merlin offered a weak smile. “Sorry Gwaine. Couldn’t sleep.”

Gwaine kept staring at Merlin for a moment, before breaking eye contact and rolling his shoulders. “Of course you can’t, not with all the ladies swarming you every night.” He winked, and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. It got a weak chuckle from Merlin.

Both Gwaine and Merlin let the silence sit for a moment, and watched the rest of the knights milling about on the practice pitch.

“Merlin, if-” Gwaine started, sounding gravely sincere. 

“Oh, I uh,” Merlin jumped up, stumbling in the mud. “I think Arthur needs me. I’ll talk to you later, Gwaine.” Arthur had just stalked away from his last bout, sword in hand as he made a beeline towards the armory. Merlin was glad for the distraction. He appreciated the concern, he really did, but it was not necessary. Nor, he thought, would Gwaine truly understand what was bothering him.

---

A week prior

---

Merlin was gone. Arthur had tried to save him, but Merlin was gone. More than likely, he was dead. Arthur had stumbled away from the rockfall, before he realized he was still being pursued. He carefully made his way through the forest, a bit aimless. 

Merlin was gone. 

It was some time before Arthur got his bearings. It was a bit longer after that he found someone else. Sir Leon was also alone, and looked weary. 

It took Arthur a moment to remember to speak. “Sir Leon. What happened?” 

“My lord. I am sorry –” Leon’s voice broke off into coughs. Arthur silently handed him a waterskin. Leon accepted it, and took a small drink from it before he continued. “I am glad to have found you. But I come with bad news.” He paused, and looked as if he was steeling himself. “I saw Morgana with the bandits that ambushed us. It appears our route was leaked to her. Your- Lord Agravaine spoke with her. I was too far away to hear their conversation.” Leon bowed his head with a grimace.

The world shifted beneath Arthur’s feet, and he swayed slightly. “Agravaine spoke with Morgana?” 

“Yes, sire. And-”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, sire.”

The leather gloves Arthur wore stuck to the sweat on his hands. He flexed one, experimentally, before falling into a lean against the tree next to him. It did make a certain amount of sense. Merlin- Merlin had never seemed comfortable around him. There was only a select few their route was known to, and Agravaine was on the short list. Leon was speaking. Merlin knew the route. Gaius was aware- God, Gaius. He could never endanger Merlin, Arthur was sure. But he had failed, Merlin was gone. How could he tell Gaius?

“-y lord. Arthur.” Leon’s voice cut through the haze. 

“I- I apologize Leon. What were you saying?” Arthur finally spoke, startled out of his contemplation. 

“I also saw Merlin. He was unconscious. I believe Morgana is holding him hostage.” Leon said. He was still standing stiffly, clearly not quite sure what to do with himself while his monarch was having a crisis. 

Immediately, Arthur pushed himself away from the tree. “You’re certain he was alive?”

Leon paused before he shook his head hesitantly. “No, sire. Not certain. But I don’t believe Morgana would have taken him were he not.” 

“Were you able to follow Morgana?” Arthur demanded. He was unconsciously holding his breath and leaning towards Leon.

His first knight frowned slightly. “Yes. I was able to follow her back, from a distance. Once she entered a building, I turned toward Camelot. I did not believe myself capable of taking on the witch alone. I found you soon after.”

“So you could easily retrace your steps back to where she is holding Merlin?” Arthur pressed, hand resting on his sword habitually. 

Leon closed his eyes briefly. “It is within my capabilities. But I do not recommend taking any action without the company. It would be best to get reinforcements from Camelot.”

Before Leon was done speaking, Arthur had begun to shake his head. “No. You will take me to where Merlin is being held. He’s badly injured, and may not make it without proper treatment. At the very least we could try to rescue him.”

It was clear Leon was unhappy with the arrangement. But they made their way toward Morgana, and toward Merlin. 

The two knights silently approached the hut. After they spotted the door, Arthur gestured to make their way to a window on the back. As they got closer, it was clear there was conversation. Closer still, and Arthur recognized the voices as Merlin and Morgana. 

“-condemned my sister to a slow and painful death, thwarted my plans to take over Camelot, and forced me to live in a hovel.” Morgana spoke in the careful tone that Arthur recognized from growing up. It was when he had pushed her too far and she was a cold sort of furious.

“Couldn’t do me a favor, could you? Let Arthur know. He still thinks of me as an underachiever, but I’m quite proud of those accomplishments. I can die happy .” Merlin replied, his voice almost venomous. Arthur’s skin crawled. He had never heard his servant speak in that manner. Also, he thought those things were a bit of an overstatement of Merlins involvement. Regardless, they would be having a talk when Merlin was safe. Because Merlin would be safe. 

“Oh, you’re not going to die. Oh no.” The king could swear he heard her smirk. “I’m not going to make it that easy.” 

There was pause, and then footsteps as she walked away. Arthur risked peeking through the window to see the scene. Merlin was chained uncomfortably to the ceiling, and Morgana was gathering a bag. Perhaps it would be an opportunity to free Merlin? His head was hanging low, clearly exhausted. Morgana walked towards the door, her back to Arthur and Merlin. She paused before leaving, glancing back at Merlin with narrowed eyes, about to speak. Arthur ducked down as quietly as he could. He waited for her to say something, but she stepped out silently. 

As soon as the door shut, Arthur started. Leon grabbed his arm tightly and held him in place, shooting him a warning glance as he looked around the forest. With a glare, Arthur wrenched his arm free and scooted up to look in the window again. 

Merlin was looking around the hovel almost frantically. Just as Arthur opened his mouth to hiss something to the idiot, Merlin suddenly stiffened in his cuffs and spoke. “Unspanne þás mægþ.”

Nothing happened. Arthur froze. But he recognized the language. Merlin repeated the phrase, occasionally trying other words, but to no avail. Arthur couldn’t tear his eyes away from his manservant. His manservant, with golden eyes.

His– The sorcerer finally let out a frustrated grunt and wrenched his hands around in the cuffs before falling limp with a pained sigh. It was soon after that Morgana returned, and Arthur lost whatever opportunity he may have had. He felt a tug on his arm again. Leon gestured to move away from the hut silently, and after a brief moment of indecision Arthur followed. 

Neither spoke at first. Once lost in the trees a relatively safe distance from the hut, Leon began. “Sire-”

Arthur raised his hand to cut him off, his hand shaking slightly. From anger. It was anger. Arthur was angry. His throat was sore, and his eyes were hot. “We will return to Camelot and plan from there. Morgana said she will not being killing Merlin, and that will give us time to reevaluate our options. You,” Arthur inhaled deeply once. “You will not speak of what we learned today. Neither Agravaine nor Merlin.” 

Leon looked like he was about to protest, but Arthur shook his head abruptly and began walking toward Camelot without looking back. 

---

Arthur fumed as he walked off the field. The practice went fine. There truly was no issue with his knight's performance today, but Arthur suspected they’d all be cursing his name in the tavern during the evening. He couldn’t help it – he needed to wear himself out so he couldn’t think about the situation. Unfortunately, no matter where he was on the field it seemed the situation was sitting on the bench, always visible in the corner of his eye. 

He could see Merlin scramble to his feet and start toward the armory with Arthur. Which was just fantastic. A room full of sharp objects. 

Arthur shook his head. Merlin had plenty of opportunities to kill him for years, it wasn’t as if he would suddenly decide to do so now, of all times. But how could Arthur trust him when it clearly wasn’t reciprocated? 

Somehow, Arthur’s scowl intensified. If the issue was only as simple as unreciprocated trust. No, his fool manservant had to go about breaking Arthur’s trust as well. Arthur found himself standing stiffly inside the armory, with Merlin just arriving. Arthur, rankled, thrusted an arm out to have his vambrace removed. He pointedly did not speak to Merlin. The uncomfortable silence brought him back to the events of the previous week.

He wasn’t sure what to do. With Agravaine, as much as it pained Arthur to keep him around, he could at least keep an eye on him. Perhaps feed him false information to get the upper hand on Morgana. But with Merlin, there was no easy solution. Keeping a sorcerer nearby was dangerous. It was ironic, then, that he was currently letting said sorcerer take his sword from him. 

The tense silence was apparently contagious, with the other knights arriving staying relatively quiet. Arthur saw the glare Gwaine levelled at him– he wasn’t that oblivious. He met it steadily as Gwaine walked past. But as soon as he was out of eyeshot, Arthur scowled.

“Hurry up, will you?” He sniped at Merlin. There was little else to do at the moment.

Rather than respond, Merlin remained silent. He worked a little faster, but didn’t even look Arthur in the eye. Coward.

As the last of his armor was taken off, Arthur gave a curt nod to Merlin. “You’re dismissed for the rest of the evening. Send George for dinner. I expect you to serve breakfast in the morning. Is that understood?” 

Merlin nodded. His gaze was lowered, but he quickly searched Arthurs expression for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it, because his shoulders fell ever so slightly.

Arthur refused to feel bad for him. He gestured to dismiss the servant and watched as Merlin left the armory amid the bustle of the knights and their squires. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed deeply, and began to search for Leon.

Chapter Text

Merlin rushed out of the armory, not wanting to give Gwaine another chance to initiate conversation. His hands were cold and they trembled. He was so focused on keeping himself together, he nearly plowed through a chambermaid, a stablehand, and a stationary column. Further, Merlin was so lost in thought that it took Gwen calling him three times to finally get his attention. 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin stuttered to a halt and realized he had better set about looking less disgruntled.

“Hello Gwen!” He offered her his best friendly smile. Gwen clearly did not accept it, her brows furrowed in concern.

She was carrying a small basket of linens, which she shifted to her hip as she crossed the hallway towards Merlin. “Are you alright? I supposed- well. Is there something the matter?” 

He gave a small huff, shrugged, and then gave a sheepish smile, in that order. “You know Arthur. He can be a bit of a prat, that’s all. I’m taking the evening to help Gaius with a few things.” 

“Right.” Gwen nodded slowly, then took a deep breath. “It's just that, I’ve seen you and Arthur at odds before, and I’m not sure what’s going on now, but it’s quite a row this time, I think. But I thought you might want to talk about it. Or not. Or maybe if you’d like some help with your chores?” She grimaced slightly, looking a bit embarrassed. 

Merlin smiled, genuinely this time. “Gwen, it’s alright. It really is nothing, but it’s nice of you to offer.” He glanced at her basket. “And as for my duties with Gaius, thank you, but I’ll be alright. Looks like you’ve got enough work to deal with yourself.” 

He attempted to step around Gwen to continue towards the physician’s quarters. “I really should go now, I’ve got to collect herbs while there’s still decent light.” 

Merlin started walking before she could respond, but Gwen simply fell into step beside him. He stifled a sigh. Gwen was wonderful, really. His friends were too concerned with him. Frankly, it was a wonder none of them had weaseled all his secrets out of him yet with how persistent they could be. 

He could see Gwen frowning in the corner of his eye, but Merlin refused to engage. She wouldn’t get anything out of him. 

Gwen took a deep breath. She paused and seemed to think for a moment, before smiling wryly. “Well… I heard from Bronwyn in the kitchens that Sir Geraint has been cheating on his lady wife with Lord Greene’s daughter.” She spoke under her breath despite the mostly empty hall. 

Merlin’s step stuttered and he gaped. “Sir Geraint? No. Wait but isn’t—” 

His voice had grown loud, and Gwen shushed him, looking amused. “I know!” 

“But she’s—” 

“I know!” Gwen snickered, hoisting her basket up again as they continued walking. 

“Bronwyn saw them sneaking off to snog behind a tapestry, she said.” Gwen described, a mischievous look in her eye. 

“Gwen!” Merlin laughed, his troubles briefly forgotten. He remembered to lower his voice this time. “Bronwyn is a terrible gossip. And what, were they just standing against the wall, feet poking out? That has to be an exaggeration.”

Gwen tilted her head with a small smile, agreeing. “But you know of Lord Greene’s daughter?”

Merlin pressed his lips together into a line. “I think so. Enid? Isn’t she supposed to be…” He trailed off, trying to pull a name out from memory. 

“With Sir Erec.” Gwen supplied. “Yes. It’s all quite the scandal, isn’t it? Lord help anyone involved in that mess.” She let out a huff, half laughing. “I mean, the fallout is going to be something else.” 

Merlin shook his head, smiling. “I suppose we’re going to hear all of it from Bronwyn then? You’d think she had learned her lesson after that whole business with Rhys and Alice.”

The two of them continued to gossip on the rest of the walk to Gaius’, and Merlin felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. They stood in the hall outside of the physician’s room as Gwen finished telling a particularly interesting story about the upcoming knight-hopefuls. It would be a lie to say that Merlin was doing fine and dandy now, but being able to talk to his friend about anything other than the issue at hand was deeply relieving. Lighthearted castle gossip was a welcome distraction.As Gwen trailed off, she looked more intently at Merlin. “Well. I really should get these to the proper place.” She lifted her basket slightly. “But Merlin…” Gwen hesitated. “You and Arthur. It may not be my place to get involved in whatever is going on. But you are my friend, Merlin, and I hate to see you two fighting. Please. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

He let out a quiet sigh. “Thank you Gwen. I really am alright, though. I’ll see you later?” 

Gwen bit her lip, but nodded her assent. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She said firmly, before she turned on her heel and made her way back down the steps. 

---

“Sire” Leon bowed his head slightly. He was clearly startled by Arthur’s sudden appearance as he froze in place with his arms up. Though, some fault for that lay with his squire, Hector, who suddenly stopped unfastening Leon’s chestplate in favor of an overly deep bow toward a disinterested Arthur.

Leon, holding his arm stiffly, tapped Hector’s shoulder, and glanced toward his side where the chestplate was hanging off at an angle. His squire jolted, nodding at Arthur with his eyes averted, before continuing on with his task. 

Arthur resisted the urge to pinch his nose to prevent an oncoming headache but indulged in an incredulous eye roll. 

“Sir Leon. When you are finished here, please come to my chambers. I’d like to go over recent patrol reports with you.” Arthur spoke in a stilted manner.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Leon replied, equally stilted.

Arthur gave a short nod to the both of them and made his way back to the royal apartments. 

Arthur walked at a brisk pace, paying no mind to the other people frequenting the halls. They all stepped out of his way as he approached, giving him space and respectful bows. It was something he hadn’t thought to notice before Merlin arrived. Merlin never did any of those things, never showed him the respect he was afforded by nearly every other individual in the kingdom. It was insolent. And while he was loath to admit it, he found it a bit refreshing. If anything, it gave Arthur a bit of excitement on some otherwise repetitive days.

Merlin’s downright boorish behavior also led Arthur to realize the extent of the influence royalty held to even the smallest effect, as well as the ubiquity of the servants. Before meeting Merlin, they were simply unremarkable background noise. But having been brought to his attention, he realized just how prevalent they were in the running of the castle. Silent ghosts, in every room, attending to his every need. Of course Arthur knew they were there before, he wasn’t quite as clueless as Merlin insisted. But prior to these realizations he didn’t quite view servants as people; they were instead the purveyors of convenience. It was not out of malice, simply privileged ignorance. Regardless, things were different now, thanks to Merlin’s insistence on being known as a person, even if he was a particularly annoying one.  

It always came back to him. The crux of all of Arthur’s recent headaches. His insolence; previously the unremarkable quirks of an uncivilized farmboy, now perhaps a sign of a more insidious disrespect to the crown. Recent revelations cast a different light on nearly everything Arthur knew to be true. 

Merlin’s backtalk, for example, a facet of his personality that was generally harmless and on occasion amusing. It was so, only because Arthur had allowed it to occur. With a wave of his hand and a word, things could be as he liked and there was naught Merlin could do. At least, that is what he had thought. Now, his allowance of Merlin’s behavior felt more like Merlin allowing him to live in a delusion of power. How stupid of Arthur, really. 

He scoffed to himself, almost at his chambers. The bustle quieted significantly as he entered the wing of the castle designated to the royal apartments. A few servants would always come and go, but not many. It was just him living here now.

The one person who frequented it as much, if not more than Arthur himself, was Merlin. His servant-turned-sorcerer. A man who might have even been a friend, had it not all been in service of a lie.Truthfully, Arthur knew that Merlin likely didn’t wish him harm. Logically speaking. Morgana obviously despised the servant. It also seemed as though she was not aware of Merlin’s abilities. But that left the question of why Merlin wouldn't have told him, if he genuinely meant no ill-will to the crown. Why lie? 

Truthfully, Arthur might know the answer to that too, but it was too painful to think about head on. It was much easier to be hurt about the whole thing. 

Once inside his quarters, Arthur sighed deeply. Moving past the antechamber, he settled into a chair on the far side of the room. He sat there, unmoving, unthinking, and trying very hard to be unfeeling, for a while. At least until there was the sound of Leon’s polite knock at the door.

“Come in.” Arthur called out, not rising from his seat. 

Sir Leon ducked in, still looking a bit of a mess from training. “Sire. You wished to talk with me?” He walked forward, stopping about ten feet from Arthur. 

Arthur nodded, drawing himself up from where he had slouched down into the chair. He gestured towards another seat across from him. 

“Yes. Please sit. As you might have guessed, I wanted to talk about what we saw regarding Agravaine, Merlin, and Morgana last week.” 

Leon took the proffered seat, his mouth a grim line as he nodded. 

“What news do you have of Agravaine’s activities?” Arthur leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, staring at Leon intently. 

The knight frowned, clasping his hands. “He seems to be conducting his business as normal. I do not believe he’s noticed any increased scrutiny. While he was dealing with council matters, I searched his room. I found no concrete evidence of his involvement with Morgana, though he does have copies of several of your southern lords' reports and correspondence.” Leon paused, scratching his beard absentmindedly. “He has left the citadel under the cover of night only once since our return. He headed southwest, towards the… place we last saw Morgana.” 

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Yes. Instruct those following Agravaine to maintain their distance. Not alerting him to our knowledge is our top priority.” He ignored the pang in his chest, speaking of his family’s betrayal so blatantly. 

“Just because Morgana is southwest of here, does not necessarily mean that any attacks will come from that direction. She knows the land around the citadel. If you can, please check on Agravaine’s chambers whenever he is in council sessions. We may begin to see a pattern in what he takes interest in.” Arthur paused for a moment, thinking.

“Get me a list of the lords he was checking in on. Do not increase patrols, as that may cause alarm.” He finished.

“Yes, your majesty.” Leon took a breath, clearly hesitating. “And… of Merlin?”

Arthur deflated in his seat. “What of him?” 

Leon opened his mouth to reply, but Arthur huffed and continued as if he hadn’t just asked a question, saying, “Have you noticed any change in his behavior since his return?” 

Leon began to shake his head slowly, but stopped. “I did notice he was a bit overly excited a day or so after his return, or perhaps choleric. He was struggling finding a crossbow for you, and that was the only time we spoke. I didn’t say much at the time, since you hadn’t given any orders on what to do with him.”

Arthur did not remember asking for a crossbow. Noted.

“Apparently he was under the influence of a creature that forced him to kill me,” said Arthur. “Clearly he was a rather terrible assassin.” Even after all the lies, he couldn’t bring himself to take Merlin seriously as a threat. The man was a bumbling fool. Though perhaps less of a fool than Arthur initially thought. His expression sobered, and his mood soured yet again. 

“I revealed I knew Morgana took him hostage, and that was enough to get him to tell me the truth about that, at least.” Arthur shook his head irritably and lapsed into silence. 

“I see. He’s no longer following the creatures orders?” Leon asked, and Arthur nodded. “Well, there is always that, I suppose.”

He seemed hesitant to continue, and Arthur held back a long-suffering sigh. “Out with it.”

“Did you not have any plans to deal with his using…” Leon, uncharacteristically timid, wiggled his fingers and whispered “magic?” 

“I gave him more than one chance to confess.” Arthur declared, neglecting to mention that Merlin did not know what Arthur wanted him to confess. “I have not made up my mind yet. I still wish to hear more about the situation before making a final decision. Did you have any thoughts?” 

Leon broke his eye contact with Arthur, looking towards the end table next to him instead. Arthur could see a muscle jump in his temple before he spoke.

“Just that you should be careful. Sire. Perhaps Merlin has not been corrupted by the use of magic yet. I do not believe he wishes you ill. But we should still tread carefully. Carefully, but swiftly. The longer the issue goes unaddressed, the worse its effects, I fear.” Leon spoke with a measured tone. Arthur got the sense that his first knight was holding back. He also found that he did not particularly care. 

“Thank you, Sir Leon. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed. Keep a discreet eye on Agravaine, and I will handle Merlin.” Arthur waved his hand half-heartedly, his posture melting back into the seat as Leon stood to leave.

Arthur sat there for a long time again, staring at the door to his room. George eventually arrived with his dinner, and Arthur drew himself out of his contemplation to get settled at the dining table. He ate perfunctorily, but drank his wine with something bordering on enthusiasm. The king dismissed George for the night after the plates were cleared from the table. He drank what remained of the decanter of wine. The moon had begun to shine through his window, the only light in his room aside from flickering candles in the wall sconces. 

He didn’t bother undressing, removing only his boots and untying the top of his tunic. The king of Camelot collapsed onto his bed in a very kingly manner, not at all sprawling, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Merlin carefully balanced the king's food with one arm, and knocked on Arthur’s door with the other before pushing into the room. Judging by the snore coming from his bed, he was still asleep.

He had made sure to get all of Arthur’s favorite breakfast foods. And he had even held himself back from filching the soft wheat rolls usually privy only to the nobility. Arthur had long since gotten used to receiving almost no bread with his breakfast due to Merlin’s habit. But today, he made sure Arthur would have no room to complain. He only hoped it would be enough to offset the strange mood Arthur had been in for the past few days, and the aftereffects of their tense discussion.

Merlin remained anxious, but his talk with Gwen had bolstered his confidence. It was likely just stress causing Arthur to act so strangely, coupled with his hurt at being lied to. There was no way he could know about much else, though the matter of how he found out what he did was still an issue.

To his surprise, the window curtains were drawn back, letting sunlight stream into the room. George would have shut them last night, had he been given the chance. The man had a stick shoved so far up his ass, it served as his backbone. Though, that implied that George had any kind of stiff backbone, which he did not, unless it came to his policies on how to serve nobility properly.

But that’s just Merlin’s not-jealous, completely unbiased opinion. Tragically, George was generally a nice person, so Merlin couldn’t think these things without feeling a bit guilty.

Merlin set down the plates of breakfast food, then stood back and looked at them. He deliberated for a moment, then rearranged them in a way he thought Arthur might like. No. That one was too close to where he liked his cup. He rearranged it again, and leaned back, admiring his work. There was an empty wine jug, and a glass. Merlin simply pushed it aside, and figured he could deal with it later. He first had to get the placement right. There would be no reason Arthur could snap at him, he was certain.

(Unbeknownst to him, Arthur had woken up at the clicking of the plates hitting the table during the second rearrangement. Bleary eyed, he watched his servant push around his breakfast twice more.)

At the sound of rustling bedsheets, Merlin jumped in place, looking around guiltily as if he were committing a crime rather than being particular about plate placement. Though, he was technically committing a crime just by existing.

“Arthur. Sire. Good morning!” Merlin exclaims, fumbling with his hands a moment, before very deliberately clasping them behind his back. He gives a winning smile, not realizing he rocked backward slightly. He nearly knocked over an empty goblet, which meant he had to return to his graceless fumbling.

Arthur didn’t reply, simply staring at his servant with a mixture of incredulity and dread. He flopped back into bed and hoped the day would end.

Merlin sighed. Normally, he would take this time to open the curtains. Unfortunately not an option.

He settled on stating, “Arthur, I’ve got breakfast ready.”

“I can see that, Merlin.” Arthur groused, throwing an arm over his face.

Not quite sure what to do next, Merlin shifted his weight back and forth between his feet. Luckily, Arthur got up relatively quickly.

Merlin looked him up and down. “Are those yesterday’s clothes?”

Arthur did not deign to respond. Well, if that’s how it’s going to be. “Alright. Well, I’ll go ahead and get some of your things ready for the day.” Merlin spun around in a huff, and walked toward the wardrobe. Once there, he had a decision to make. Continue being kind, or pick a deliberately annoying ensemble? Arthur certainly didn’t deserve any additional care. He was being an ass already, and the day had barely begun. Then again, he did feel a bit guilty about his omission causing Arthur stress. He picked out a soft linen tunic and paired it with a new embroidered jacket. It would fit comfortably and look suitably put together.

When he turned to walk back toward the bed again, Merlin discovered Arthur staring daggers at him while he ate breakfast.

Merlin looked himself up and down. It didn’t seem like there was any reason for that kind of examination. Arthur had turned his attention back to his food by the time Merlin looked back up, so he figured he would let it go for the time being. He passed Arthur to drape the clothing over the changing screen. Merlin then quietly made his way to Arthur’s bed and began to make it.

After finishing that task, Arthur still hadn’t said anything. When Merlin turned again he found Arthur still at the table. He had eaten his food, but was now sat slouched in his chair with his arms crossed, looking particularly churlish. Merlin steeled himself. This would not go well, but he was tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Alright, out with it. What’s wrong?” Merlin asked.

Arthur pushed himself up to sit straight in his chair, and said something under his breath.

“What?”

“I said, Merlin, would you like me to open up?” Arthur sneered, turning to face Merlin fully.

Taken aback, Merlin raised two hands placatingly. “I was just worried. You seem, stressed, I suppose.” He kept his tone even and measured to hide the rising apprehension he felt.

“Stressed.” Arthur drew the word out. He barked out a harsh laugh. “I suppose I am.” Arthur slouched into his chair, clasping his hands together and stared down into them.

Merlin stood awkwardly, at a bit of a loss for what to do from here.

“Well,” Merlin drew his word out too, since it seemed that’s what they were doing now. “Is there anything I can do?” He softened his tone, sensing that Arthur would not appreciate any supposed impudence. Though, it was not as if Merlin wasn’t stressed himself, but he had a great deal of experience hiding said stress from people close to him.

Arthur seemed to draw himself up, and his face reddened. “No. Get out.”

Merlin blinked, and took a half step back without realizing. But anger quickly replaced his hesitation. He scoffed and started towards the door. A few steps across the room had his blood boiling, and Merlin stopped with his back to Arthur still.

—-

Arthur’s head was pounding. His mouth was dry and tasted horrific. His liar of a manservant had the gall to ask if there was ‘anything he could do’, and Arthur did not even know where to start. As Merlin passed by, Arthur pinched his nose and rested his head in his hand in an attempt to ease the pain. His effort to calm down was spoiled quite quickly when he heard Merlin’s footsteps pause.

Merlin’s voice was perfectly cordial when he spoke. “If you have need of me sire, I will be assisting Gaius in his chambers. If you will excuse me.” He continued his walk out of the room without waiting for Arthur’s assent, and Arthur could not find it within himself to feel anything other than a bitter relief at Merlin’s exit.

What a fool he was. When faced with the treason of his personal manservant, Arthur simply froze. Every path that lay before him was distasteful.

Arthur took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. He stood, eyed the outfit Merlin had picked out, and donned it with reticence.

—-

The day flew by in a haze of council meetings, training sessions, and audiences. He was brought his lunch in a council meeting, where he quietly instructed the servant to inform Merlin he was expected to attend to the king’s dinner. At several points, Leon caught his eye and moved as if to talk with him. Each time, Arthur deflected or found a Lord to badger.

Arthur often took his evening meals in his chambers while looking over any additional work. His chamber was beginning to look a bit of a mess without Merlin’s intervention. As dinnertime approached, he heard a timid knock on the doors. “Come in.”

He knew without looking up it was not Merlin.

Arthur gritted his teeth, and set his quill down slowly. “Fetch Merlin and have him deliver the meal.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Came the soft reply, with hurried footsteps exiting the kings chambers. It would serve Merlin right to carry the meal back across the palace. Arthur stared at the parchment. Reports from the lords. Grain information. A missive from Gedref and another from Tintagel. They all blurred together.

Rapid footsteps approached, and Arthur smirked to himself. Three sharp raps sounded at the door, but it opened before he could grant them entry. Arthur trained his eyes on his desk, playing with the quill still.

“Sire” Merlin sneered.

“Ah, Merlin. You are late.” Arthur ground out, failing at maintaining a neutral tone. He feigned disinterest, and did not look up.

A few more quick, sharp steps on the stone floors, and a clatter of his food being thrown onto the desk.

“There was no reason to make Isella trek across the castle with your food, Arthur.” Merlin’s tone was acidic, uncomfortably close to the intensity with which he spoke to Morgana.

Arthur felt briefly discomfited, as he meant no harm to the girl and had not quite thought through the consequences of angering a sorcerer. His hands prickled, and he wished briefly to be armored and have his sword. A ridiculous thought, when he was simply alone with Merlin. But things were not as simple as they once were. He finally looked up at Merlin, who was standing slightly too close to the desk, his hair askew and face screwed up in anger. Arthur wasn’t quite sure what he had hoped to accomplish in needling him.

Arthur spoke deliberately. “You may go.”

There was a beat of silence. Then another. Arthur stared at Merlin, and the sorcerer who might have once been his friend stared back, frozen. The candlelight seemed to flicker as one and Arthur felt a strange pit in the middle of his chest. A pressure released in his ears.

“I said -”

“I heard you.” Merlin ground out, but did not leave. Arthur would not feel afraid. Merlin never quite struck him as an intimidating man, but in this moment, Arthur could not deny a certain… disquiet. But Arthur’s cold apprehension was no match for his frustration.

“Merlin, if you-”

“I don’t understand!” Merlin finally exploded. “You have been treating me and everyone around you terribly. I ask you what’s wrong, you don’t answer. You didn’t even speak with any of the knights today. I have no idea why you are acting so strangely, and -” Merlin took a half step back, finally. He continued more quietly. “I am scared for my friend.”

Arthur let out a short laugh.

Merlin’s expression crumpled, and he seemed to shrink backwards.

The king sneered, “You think to manipulate me now?” Of all the tactics Arthur thought the sorcerer would take, he had not expected this. He had hoped some measure of Merlin was real, if not the whole. But to call him a friend after having lied to him for so long? Arthur had given him multiple chances to come clean, to express remorse. But nothing.

The silence was cracked by a log in the fireplace letting up sparks. Merlin’s brows were furrowed, mouth slightly agape.

“What, no clever words? You have been a liar for long enough, Merlin. No magic tricks? Nothing?” Arthur gestures widely. “There are no more games to play. No more lies to tell.” The heat in his chest had turned to a lump in his throat. “I know you are no friend of mine, so do not speak on it. There is nothing more to be said. But it remains to be seen whether you have been a friend to Camelot.”