Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Uther Pendragon didn’t look at his child until three months after he was born. He’d been too busy mourning his loss to realise what he had gained. Too busy running a kingdom to even remember he had a son. Too busy murdering innocent sorcerers to feed his newborn. There were many excuses, and no one dared challenge them.

Up until that moment, Arthur Pendragon the second (named after his great grandfather who was just as big of a bigot Uther was)  has spent his entire, incredibly short life in the care of Gaius and his nanny. He is an active child and never seems to sleep. Seriously, he never sleeps. 

After finally having decided that his newborn child might be worth his time, Uther marches up to Gaius’ room and barges in, because rulers don't need permission. And instead of picking Arthur up or taking him into his arms, he stares down at the cot for about three seconds, a confused expression on his face, and then turns to Gaius. 

“What the fuck is a clotpole?” he asks. 

Gaius shakes his head. “Language, sire. Lest his first word be a swear.” He shrugs. “And I don’t know either, it doesn’t seem to be in any book. Even Geoffrey has never heard of it.” 

Uther sighs. This shouldn’t be his main concern right now, he should be taking care of his son. 

He examines Arthur, who is looking up at him with wide, blue eyes.  He is so small and delicate, Uther fears he will break with a touch. Blond hair, just like Ygraine’s, is starting to sprout on Arthur’s head. He smiles down at him and Arthur coos.

 For only the second time in his life, Uther loves someone. 

“Idiot,” the midwife says, once she’s woken up.

“Excuse me?” Hunith asks, surprised. The midwife has always been nice and motherly, hence the reason she was in the profession. Hunith didn’t think she was capable of cursing anyone . 

“That’s his soul mark,” she clarifies, and Hunith would’ve preferred it if she had been insulting her instead. 

“Are you sure?” she asks, slightly worried now. What sort of person is her son destined to be with, exactly? She stretches out her arms, to both hold him and see the words with her own eyes. It’s true. The word ‘idiot’ has been emblazoned above his heart in a fancy, red script.  She hates to admit it but, despite how terrible the actual word was, it looks kind of beautiful. 

She sighs, he will have to hide his mark. She doesn’t want to create another reason for the other children to bully him. They would tear him apart for not only being a bastard but make fun of him for being hated by his own soulmate. 

She just wishes she could make it better for him. 

“What does that mean?”
“Huh?”
“What's a clotpole?”
“None of your business.” 

His first night in Camelot, Merlin is appointed as Arthur’s servant. It isn’t that he wants to. Not at all. Spending time with a prat like him is never something he wants to do. Ever . Definitely not. Why are you looking at him like that? And it’s clear that the feeling was reciprocated if Arthur’s protests are anything to go by.

“But father,” Arthur says, “he can’t be my manservant. ”

Uther waves his hand. “Of course he can, Arthur. There’s nothing wrong with it. You should be thanking this young man. He saved your life.” He gives Merlin a once-over and walks over to talk to someone.

Arthur’s lip curls in distaste as he turns to glare at him. At that moment, Merlin is sure he would have preferred it if Merlin had left him to be killed by Helen. 

“Just so you know,” he says, crossing his arms, “I don’t want this.” He sounds and looks so much like a child who didn’t get the toy they wanted on Christmas, that Merlin can’t help laughing. Arthur shoots him a dirty look as the people in the room start to clap, and stalks away from Merlin. Wow, he is a prat. No, he is worse than that. He is... he is a…

“Clotpole,” the brain supplies. That sounds right. That is also the night Merlin decided Arthur was, indeed, a clotpole.

“What is wrong with you? Why are you such a freak?”

“Come on, Mer lin,” Arthur barks. “It’s like you’re not even trying.”  

Merlin, now on the ground, scowls. “Can we please stop now?” Although Arthur would never admit it out loud, he looks kind of good. A sort of ‘I’m-dumb-and-stupid-but-I’m-also-cute’ kind of good. 

He shakes his head, amused. “I need to practice for the tournament, and you need to learn to fight. What could be better?” 

“Why do I need to learn how to fight?” he asks. “I'm your servant, not your knight.” 

“Because I may not like you but you’re too cute to die,” Arthur thinks, though he doesn’t say it.

“Shield!” he yells instead, raising his sword. He would never say it.

“Do you know what it means?”
“Can you stop looking?”

“I’m done now,” Merlin says, clasping the red cloak around Arthur. “I would say I haven’t done bad. Especially for my first time. You look perfect.’’ He blushes. “I meant that armour is put on perfectly, not that you’re perfect or anything. You still look like a royal toad.” 

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Are you sure about that, Merlin?” he asks.

“About you looking like a toad? Absolutely.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I meant, are you sure my armour’s finished?” 

Merlin pulls a face, examining him to see exactly what he had forgotten to put. It seems kind of dumb, honestly. All the overly-complicated armour, just don’t fight, don’t get hurt 

and get done with it. “I would say so, yeah.”

“My sword,” Arthur says plainly. “That’s what you’re forgetting.” 

“Oh, yes,” he remembers, handing it to Arthur. “Now off you go.”

Arthur raises a brow. “May I remind you that I’m the one who dismisses you, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now fuck off and beat their asses.”  

“You have to believe me, I swear,” Merlin begs. “He’s using magic to win.” They are in Arthur’s room, the curtains closed. 

“I do, I do ,” Arthur says, looking into his eyes. They are really blue, he notes.  “I believe you. But I’m not sure my father will.” 

“You’re so dumb, even your soulmate agrees.”

 “You can’t do this,” Merlin says. 

“You just humiliated me in front of the whole court, and now you’re telling me that I shouldn’t fulfil my duty as prince?” He doesn't sound angry, but rather he seems hurt. “It’s not your choice, Merlin.”`

“But you’ll die,” he protests. 

“Then I’ll die.”

Merlin feels anger bubble inside of him. Of all the stupid princes to fall in lo- share a destiny with. “How can you just throw yourself away so casually? You’re worth more than your reputation, Arthur. It’s better to be called a coward while alive than to be dead!” 

“Are you done?” Arthur asks. Merlin wants to say ‘no’. Tell him to withdraw from the tournament, but he doesn’t. He’s already spoken too much. So he nods.  “Then you can leave,”  Arthur states, his voice tight as if he were trying not to cry.

“Arthur, I-” Merlin reaches out to touch him, but Arthur swats his hand away. His eyes are looking glossy,  wet sheen of tears forming over them. Merlin’s burning to touch him, to comfort him, to save him.

“I said leave!” Arthur shouts, growing impatient. Merlin obeys.

“Have you seen his soulmark? I heard it was something like ‘clotpole’.”

“I think he hates me.”

“A half can never truly hate the other,” the dragon replies, irritatingly vague as always. 

Merlin eyes him suspiciously. “But I’m not his half.”

“He is your fate,” Killagrrah continues, “and you are his destiny.” 

Merlin pauses. That- that is different. From the way he spoke, it sounds like… ”Are you saying… are you saying that Arthur’s my soulmate?” 

Killagrrah chuckles. Stupid dragon. “That is a question for you to answer yourself, young warlock.” With that completely useless advice, he flies away.

“Hey!” Merlin yells. “Come back! Why can’t you just answer me yourself?” There’s no reply. He sighs in anger, and turns his back. He has to serve breakfast to the clotpole.

“Get back you filthy bastard!”

He gets it on his fifth try, the white marble turning into deep brown fur. It barks and Merlin jumps back. He loves dogs, but he prefers not getting rabies. If statues-turned-dogs could get rabies. 

Now for the hard part. He takes a deep breath and mutters a spell. 

It doesn’t turn back. 

“Shit,” he whispers. The dog runs out, with Merlin chasing it. He doesn’t catch it, but he supposes that nobody will really miss the statue.  Or at least he hopes so (no one does).

“He doesn’t have a soulmate, he just lied so that he sounded more interesting.”

 It works. Arthur lives and Valiant is thrown into the dungeons. 

“You know, Merlin,” he says, once it’s done, “For such an idiot, you’re not that bad.”

Merlin beams back at him, unconsciously reaching to tug at his neckerchief. “For such a prat,” he replies, “you don’t always completely suck.” 

Arthur laughs, shaking his head. “You can take your leave now,” he says. The last time he had said those words, they had been bitter. But now, they almost seem, dare he say it, fond . “You deserve it.”

Chapter Text

“Can I play with you?”
“We don’t play with bastards.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Arthur is practically howling. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is more laughter.

“Trust me, I have never been more serious in my life,’’ he manages to say once he is done. 

Merlin throws a pillow at him, pouting.  “You’re such a dollophead.” 

“Whatever.” 

“I’ll kiss you if you tell me what it means.”

“She’s so hot,” Gwen whispers to him. 

Merlin, much taller and also much more ridiculous looking with his hat, waggles his eyebrows. “Isn’t that true? How would your dear Morgana feel about her soulmate’s realisation that Kara is, in fact, hot.”

She laughs and shoves him away. “She would agree with me. Besides, you have no right to mock,” she says. “Especially with the way you look at Arthur.” 

Merlin splutters, turning redder than his hat. “What? Me? Arthur? Look? Why would you even- Just no . Absolutely not.”

“I would make fun of you,” she says, smiling (she wouldn’t-- she’s too nice), “but those robes are doing my job for me.” 

“ I’m going to go talk to someone who actually cares about me,” he huffs and turns away from her. Kara seems to be needing to talk to him and he doesn’t really want to listen to Bayard’s speech about the power of friendship or whatever. 

“Who would ever want you?”

From the corner of his eye, Arthur sees Merlin being dragged away by one of Bayard's servants. Well, no. She isn’t dragging him, he seems to be perfectly willing to go with her to… wherever they were going.

He feels something turn in him. Jealousy, maybe. 

But that would be ridiculous. Why would he be jealous? 

Merlin isn’t his. He can go kiss whoever he wants. Why should Arthur care?

He looks away. He has more important things to do than wonder who his servant is having an affair with. 

“He’s got a boyfriend- and it’s not his soulmate either. The crown prince is gay! I'm surprised Uther hasn’t disowned him yet. I would have, honestly. If my dear Leon kissed a boy he better expect to be thrown out.”  

“Wait!” Merlin snatches the cup from Arthur. If what she said was true, then Arthur would die. And he can’t let that happen. “Don’t drink this.”

Uther, Bayard and Arthur stare at him with contempt, curiosity and worry (in that order).

“What is the meaning of this?” Uther questions. “What is he doing?”

Before Uther can say anything, Merlin cuts in. “It’s poisoned,” he says, holding the goblet up. 

“This is ridiculous,” Bayard exclaims. 

“I can prove it.”

Arthur’s face turns dark. “Merlin, don’t be stupid,” he looks nervous, “I’m sure it’s perfectly fine-”

He gulps it all down.

“You’re so ugly.”

“Only a leaf from the same flower can save him now,” Gauis says. 

Arthur nods, unable to say anything.  It is like there is a rock stuck in his throat, unable to let him speak. It pains Arthur to see him like this, so weak, so helpless. He hasn’t known Merlin for long, but he wants to. He wants to be something to him, not just his boss. But he can't do that if Merlin is dead . 

Gwen looks up at him, clearly distressed. “He’s getting hotter.” Merlin is lying in bed. He is still wearing the robes, those ugly red robes. Why had he been so supid? Why did he drink  the poison? Arthur can’t figure it out. Why didn’t he just let him drink?

“Arthur,” Merlin moans, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Where,” he swallows, turning to Gaius, “where will I find it?” 

“Don’t go near him, you’ll catch it too.”

“Follow the light,” Merlin urges. “Arthur!”

Gwen glances at Gaius. “What do you suppose he’s dreaming about?” she asks.

Gaius smirks, though the concern was still evident on his face. “Well,” he says, ‘’from what I can tell, he and Arthur seem to be quite close.”

She gives him a small smile. “They are, aren’t they? He seems to care for Merlin a lot.”

“He’s just not in the right mind.”

He’s gotten it. By gods, he has it. All he has to do is give it to Gaius, and then Merlin will be fine. Alive. He almost laughs. It had barely been a week, and Merlin had risked his own life to save Arthur’s and he’s done the same. He gets on his horse. He has to get back to Camelot. Fast. 

“He’s not worthy of the throne.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Uther sneers. “He’s just a servant.”

He is not ‘just a servant’. He’s Merlin .  He’s Arthur’s friend. And he deserves to live, Arthur will make sure he does. 

“I need to get this to him. Please, father,” he begs. “Please let me give this to Gauis.”

Uther stares at him, his eyes calculating and cold. “Very well,” he says finally. “You may leave.”

Arthur runs out, the leaf clasped tightly in his hand. 

“Gaius,” he pants, bursting in. “I’ve got it.” 

“I heard he was a sorcerer .” 

“Why have you stopped?” Gwen asks. 

“Well,” he starts. “I may need to use magic to create the antidote, if the poison was created by a sorcerer.” 

“But you can’t,” she says nervously, glancing at Arthur. “It’s forbidden.”

“Of course,” Arthur says, but he doesn’t seem particularly angry at Gaius for suggesting such a thing. “Guinevere, would you mind coming with me to fetch some water for him? He’s burning up.” 

Gwen looks confused for a second, before she nods, understanding what he is implying. “Sure, sire.” 

Gaius smiles, holding up the pot, whispering the incantation.  He is in the process of feeding it to Merlin, when they walk back in again. 

“Is it working?” Arthur asks. 

“It should be, sire,” Gauis answers, worry etched on his face. 

Merlin’s body, which has been shaking till now, stills. 

Arthur’s frozen in his place as Gwen almost runs forward to check on him.

“He’s not breathing,” she says, her eyes wide.  “Why isn’t he breathing? Wake up. Wake up, Merlin.”  She shakes his body, desperate. 

No. 

No, he can’t be dead. Merlin can’t die. He can’t. Arthur won’t let him .  

Gwen’s crying now, he thinks he is too. Gaius isn’t doing anything. He’s just staring. She throws herself upon the old man, sobs wracking her body.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  ' ’You should be ashamed of yourself, Gaius,” comes his voice. “You’re old enough to be her grandfather.” 

Arthur’s face snaps up, lightning-fast. Merlin is sitting up. Merlin is speaking. Merlin is alive . 

He attempts to get out of bed, but Arthur is upon before he can do so. “You’re not moving, you idiot,” he says. “Don’t you dare.” 

“I won’t,” he promises, hugging him back. 

“He’s as dumb as a bell, that one.”

Chapter Text

“You’re a waste of space,” he says. “Even your soulmate thinks you’re an idiot.”

“You know, I met someone yesterday,” Merlin says, trailing after him. 

He raises a brow “Is that so?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Merlin nods, excited, “he’s perfect.”

Arthur feels his heart sink. 

He is happy that Merlin feels so comfortable with him that he would tell him about dates, but he isn’t happy that Merlin went on a date. But that isn’t in his control. He will just have to get over it. 

“His name is Lancelot,” he continues, “you’ll really like him. Do you want to meet him? He’d love to meet you! He’s been preparing for so long, I can’t even say.”

“Why exactly does he want to meet me?” Arthur questions. 

Merlin looked at him quizzically. “Because it’s really important to him that this happens. And he needs your consent for it, doesn’t he?” 

That doesn’t really make sense, but some members of the household ask for the blessing of the prince or king before they start to date. It’s symbolic apparently. But he didn’t think Merlin was one of those people. He didn’t even think that Merlin knew that it was a thing. Nevertheless, he went along with it. 

“Alright then,” he says. “What time?” 

“My father says that I should stay away from you because you kissed a boy.” 

Lancelot clears his throat. “This is very kind of you, uh…”

“Guinevere,” she says, smiling. “You can call me Gwen.” 

“Gwen. It’s a pretty name.” He looked so flustered, Merlin wants to laugh. 

“ He’s besotted with her ,” he realises. “ Too bad she’s already found her soulmate .”

Gwen finishes taking her measurements and stands up. “Okay, then. I should be finished with these within two or three days, I’ll give them to you then,” she tells them.

“Thank you, m’lady.” He has a shy smile on his face, it makes him look like a puppy. 

Gwen looks slightly uncomfortable. “Lance,” she starts. “Please don’t take this the wrong way… I mean, you’re a nice guy and all but… it’s just, I’m already with someone I love very much. She’s my soulmate.” 

Lancelot chuckles, but he does look disappointed. “I understand,” he says. “I apologise.”

Merlin feels bad for him, but even he knows that Gwen and Morgana are a couple no one can mess with. They’re forever. He hopes he finds someone like that. 

“Except, you know, your soulmate thinks you’re stupid and doesn’t want you,” his brain says. Right, he almost forgot about that for a second. 

“I don’t know why Hunith hasn’t dropped him off at the orphanage yet.”

“This Lance of yours, is he nice?” Arthur inquires. 

“Oh, yes!” Merlin tells him. “He’s the sweetest! You should’ve seen him with Gwen yesterday! He likes her, but he was such a gentleman when she turned him down! Very noble. Excellent fighter. You’ll love him.” 

Arthur frowns. “Shouldn’t you care that he likes Gwen?” he asks. “I mean, I know that being clingy isn't good in a relationship but I feel like him dating other people should warrant a response. 

Merlin looks confused for a second, but then horror starts to seep into his expression. “I am not dating Lance,” he yelps. “Why would you think that?!” 

Oh. 

Okay.

 Thank heavens- not that he cares or anything. He is merely curious. That is all. 

“You seemed to really like him,” Arthur says, shrugging casually as if it was just some other misunderstanding and not something that has been eating away at him for two days. “I thought you were his soulmate, the way you spoke of him.”

“Absolutely not!” he exclaims. “I mean, he is cute but no! He’s like, really straight.” Arthur is barely suppressing a grin at this point. He knows that he shouldn’t be happy, but he is. He’s ecstatic. 

“Why did you want me to meet him then?” 

“He wants to become a knight, that's why,” he answers. “It’s like the only thing he desires. It’s all he talks about. I thought that if you had a duel with him and saw how good he was, you would knight him.”

“That’s not how it works, you idiot,” Arthur tells him. Merlin stops his task of cleaning the floors, there’s a pained expression on his face, but Arthur doesn’t seem to notice. “There’s this whole process. Physical fitness is not it. You need to spend at least a year as a squire, you need to have served as a guard for a particular noble for 6 months, you need to be agile, fit, loyal and smart. One duel with me doesn’t cut it.” 

“But he is agile and smart,” Merlin insists, though he still looks like he’s seen a ghost. “I swear he is.” 

Arthur sighs. “Alright,” he says. “Tell him to meet me tomorrow.” It is the right thing to do because right then Merlin’s smile could’ve lit up the whole world. 

He shouldn't think about it, he decides. He’d called Merlin an idiot by accident, he hadn’t realised what he had said. Besides, plenty of people have called him an idiot before. 

None of them had been his soulmate, and it had always been a one-time thing. It was the same for him.

It had just slipped out, maybe Merlin had imagined it. 

After all, there is no way Arthur can be his soulmate. 

Lancelot doesn’t bow. Instead, he gives Arthur an easy smile and holds his hand out for a handshake. Arthur accepts, gripping it tightly. They’re standing in the clearing of the forest, far away from the prying eyes of anyone else.

Not much is said, they start with the duel almost immediately. 

Arthur hadn’t expected him to be so good with a sword. Now, while fighting him, Lancelot’s ease with the sword and talent is almost overwhelming. He’s the crown prince, and a complete stranger-- a nobody, really-- is beating him.  He knows he’s losing, Lancelot is gaining on him. 

He hears Merlin cheer them on, and, for some inexplicable reason, he suddenly feels the need to prove himself. He has to win this. He doesn't know why it invokes such a response in him, but he feels stronger. Faster. 

Lancelot’s about to strike, his sword is raised- but Arthur’s not there. “I win,” he says, his blade aimed at Lancelot’s neck. 

Lancelot has heard many tales of the great Arthur Pendragon, he had expected them to be false. People always seem to put the rich on a pedestal, and the prince is the richest of them all. Although he now won’t get what he wanted, he is delighted to find out that they were true. Perhaps he is worthy after all. 

“Good job, sire,” he says, “you really got me there.” 

Arthur’s not listening, he’s gazing at someone, an expectant look on his face but a soft, fond one in his eyes. He’s looking at Merlin, and he’s staring right back.  They seem so lost in their own world, that he doesn’t want to interrupt. He feels like he’s intruding on something personal, something not meant for his eyes. The duo seems to have forgotten that he’s there. He clears his throat. They turn towards him, Arthur looking annoyed while Merlin amused.  

“Ah, yes,” he spits. “Lancelot.” It almost sounds like a curse coming from his mouth. “You have proved yourself to be a formidable swordsman. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you,” he doesn’t sound regretful, “that it is not enough to become a knight of Camelot.”

He pauses. “The army always has slots open, however.”

He snorts. “No, thank you,” he says. The soldiers are the lowest of them all, not recognised, given the cheapest armour, paid almost nothing. “Besides, I don’t think I’m cut out for it, after all.” Merlin lets out a strangled noise “I think it’s better if I go explore other kingdoms, get more perspective, you know? ”  

“You’re leaving?” Merlin looks so disappointed, yet Arthur doesn’t seem affected. Merlin was right when he said Arthur is a clotpole. And though Lancelot doesn’t know what it means exactly, he gets the vibe. 

“Yeah,” he replies. “But don’t worry, I’ll return soon.” They share a smile, and that was that.