Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It isn’t often Arthur's father accompanies him in public; the man prefers to remain in the castle walls to keep safe from sorcerers. Arthur would never say so aloud, but he rather hates when Uther does leave the castle with him. He feels so… scrutinized. Judged, just for horsing around with his friends.

Right now he feels the scrutiny intensely, as he tussles with some random young peasant who has decided to make an enemy of him.

The boy throws a punch and Arthur catches it easily, twisting his arm. He’s brave, Arthur will give him that. Or stupid.

“I'll have you thrown in jail for that.”

The man scoffs. “What, who do you think you are? The King?”

“No,” He grins. So he doesn’t know, he must not be from around here. Oh, this is rich. “I'm his son, Arthur.”

“Arthur. The prince. Okay,” He glances around, taking in the knights, and his face goes paler and paler as he turns to Uther. “And you’re his father so that makes you… the…" he trails off weakly. Uther raises a brow. "Okay. Kill me now, get it over with," sighs the young man, sounding genuinely resigned.

Uther and Arthur exchange glances and burst out laughing.

"You're a funny lad," says Uther, wiping a tear from his eye. "There's a distinct lack of personality in my court."

Arthur's smile slips off his face. He doesn't like where this is going.

"You are now to be my court jester."

"Father-" Uther cuts him off with a hand.

The man's mouth falls open. "I- I have no training. Sire," he sputters.

"No matter. The trained ones aren't any good anyhow."

Arthur silently, begrudgingly agrees. They're all cloying suckups, so eager to make a positive impression on the nobility that they forget to be funny. At least this fool will be easy to laugh at, stupid as he seems. Easy on the eyes as well. Even if Arthur resents that he's gotten a job solely off attacking Arthur, if he has to see him again outside a dungeon cell then at least it will be this way. He can make fun of those stupid ears and gangly legs, and the jester wont be able to say anything back, for fear of punishment. It's perfect, really. The longer he thinks about it the more he comes round to the idea. Yes, a jester.

The man has already made a fool of himself, after all.

-

Arthur sips his wine. Several foreign dignitaries are in attendance, and the dinner is going as well as could be expected, besides the… atrocious entertainment.

"And the-the cow said," Merlin can barely finish through his own laughter, "I don't even work here!"

His laughter echoes in the silent room. Merlin purses his lips.

"What? I thought it was a good one," he says. "Okay, have you ever heard the one about the old man-"

"This peasant is not funny," says Arthur's friend Count Keats, loudly.

"Why don't you come down and give it a go? I saw you in the market acting quite a fool, yourself, the other day, throwing knives at innocent young men. Your horrid aim alone will give you plenty of material," Merlin snaps.

Arthur chuckles despite himself. Keats looks like he's been slapped.

"He can't say that to me." He turns to Arthur, who shrugs. He could absolutely be put in the dungeon for that. But Arthur wants to see where this goes. Keats turns back to Merlin. "You're a peasant ."

Merlin nods, walking up to his seat. "Astute observation."

"You are below me."

"I could be, handsome." He leans in and pecks him on the nose.

There is a long, tense silence, and Arthur bursts into laughter. The jester's eyes meet his and his face breaks into a wide grin, and he decides he may like this jester after all.

Then the smile slips from the jesters face as he stares at something over Arthurs shoulder, and then a chandelier is falling and the jester is knocking him to the ground so fast his head spins, and he notes that the jesters cheekbones are even sharper up close, and the rest is a blur.

-

"You were amused by the boy?"

"He's bold, I give him that. And witty."

"A sharp tongue, yes. He'll be lucky if I don't put him in the dungeons within a fortnight."

Arthur carefully bites back a smile. It is rare that he and his father agree, of late, and having something in common, even if it is only a nuisance… it feels nice. The boy would be in the dungeons already if not for his act of heroism tonight.

-

Arthur makes it a point to heckle him, after that. At any of the more lavish feasts, it is fun to watch his ears go red as he forms a response. This one is no exception.

"Your jokes are stale,” he says as Merlin passes.

"Modeled after your breath, sire," Merlin says, leaning close.

Arthurs breath hitches and his eyes flicker to Merlin's lips, wondering if perhaps Merlin would peck him like he had to Keats that first night.

Merlin whirls and addresses the audience. "A toast to the king who has once again outdone himself with this feast." Arthur furrows his brow. Merlin never sucks up this way. He waits for the clapping to die down and continues. "...To the pig who lets his people starve while he gorges himself on his own kind!"

Merlin lifts a forkful of pork into the air before throwing it at the wall above Uthers head, where it sticks. Arthur releases a breath, embarrassed for him and his antics. And, honestly, fearing for the jester's life. Merlin’s jokes always have a bite, but to throw a fork at the king's head… he’s a complete idiot, that’s for certain. A suicidal idiot. Possibly even treasonous. He will spend weeks in the stocks.

Uther has a dangerous glint in his eye. "And what would you have me do differently?" he asks, deceptively calm.

"Glad you asked." Merlin smiles, pulling a map from god knows where, and points. "Here's where the land is the most fertile, based on what farmers have told me and my own experience.”

He leans over, fully in Uthers space. Everyone sits with bated breath, waiting to see what the hell is going on.

Merlin clears his throat. “Creating trade roads here, here and here, and subsidizing land use in those areas will create a better fall harvest and stretch the produce out for more people. Also, throwing fewer lavish parties really wouldn’t hurt. Sire."

Uther blinks. He snatches the map from Merlin's hand and viciously crumples it.

"I don't tell you how to tell your jokes, fool. Do not presume to tell me how to rule my Kingdom," he booms. Merlin salutes, and bows. Uther scowls. “And Merlin-”

“Dungeons, yes, right, got it. On my way.” Merlin bows and turns, presumably to head to the dungeons. Arthur meets the eye of the Lady seated beside him and they share a look of utter incomprehension.

Uther pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. The feast continues as if it had never been interrupted.

Later that day, Arthur catches Uther in the throne room, poring over the crumpled map and taking notes on parchment.

Chapter Text

"You disappoint me again. I sometimes wonder if you are the same boy I raised," says Uther, staring Arthur down with disappointment etched deep in the lines of his face.

Arthur nods. Hes failed, having brought his men into danger with his poor leadership. He has much to learn before he is as effective a leader as his father.

"If you can't even lead a patrol, how can I give you more responsibility?" he continues, and Arthur winces, knowing the lecture will likely go on for even longer than it already has, and will leave him feeling torn to shreds by the end of it. "You're inept even at the simple task of-"

"Eh? You're disappointed?" A familiar voice comes from the doorway, and Merlin strides in, looking thoroughly confused. Arthur could strangle him, either for the gall he has to stride in and talk to everyone however he wants, or the embarrassment at being scolded in public by his father like a child. In front of Merlin no less, who he wants to take him seriously and the only person in the kingdom who absolutely refuses to.

"Indeed," says Uther, "Now go about your business."

Merlin crosses his arms. "Seriously? Did you even let him tell you what happened before you started in?"

"This is between my son and I. It is not your place to interject."

“You mean ‘me and my son.’”

“I… don't mean that. That’s improper grammar."

“Welll...Maybe if you used a little less proper grammar, you wouldnt be so pompous,” he snaps. “Arthur saved a man's life today, everyones talking about it. And got his arm hurt for it, maybe even broken from the way he looks now." Merlin turns to him. "Hi Arthur. You look terrible."

“Thanks,” Arthur mumbles, unable to meet his eye for the shame of this entire mortifying situation. "And it's 'Prince Arthur,' to you, for the thousandth time."

Uther turns to him. "Arthur? You're hurt?" Arthur nods. His father looks chastised at that and sighs. "Go to Gaius. You're dismissed."

Arthur stands to go. Merlin begins to follow him, but Uther waves a hand to stop him.

"Not you. You are in the stocks today."

Merlin nods. "Yes, thats fair."

"You do not decide what's fair," Uther says despairingly. “Could you at least pretend to respect authority?”

"Ok. So... it's... not fair that I'm going to the stocks?"

"No, it is."

"Then I'm right. Its fair."

"No, I'm the King so I'm right. For one day I wish you would-" their voices fade, still bickering as Arthur walks himself to the physicians chambers. Arthur is sure Merlin will have argued his way into a more serious punishment by the time they're through bickering, or Uther will have relented and let him off scot free as he often does for Merlin, for no reason at all. By all means Merlin usually deserves punishment. It’s the strangest damn thing he’s ever seen, the way they argue. They are the two most stubborn people he has ever met.

Gwen goes to the doorway as if to knock, hears the arguing, and keeps walking down the hall as if she had never intended to go in at all. He catches Gwen's eye as she walks.

“Isn’t it odd, how they argue?” he asks Gwen.

She giggles. “You and he do the exact same thing, only more- um.” she blushes. "More...friendly."

“Friendly! I'll tell you friendly. Father never punishes him for any of his various little treasons. By all means he should be on the chopping block twice a week. I, at least, send him to the dungeons sometimes. Father doesn't even do that anymore."

“Are you sure you do? Think back, when's the last time you punished Merlin for anything?”

He thinks back. It’s been… ages, really.

“I suppose you're right. Why do you think that is?” he asks.

She shrugs. “Not my place to say.”

Merlin had stood up for him. In front of his father. No one does that. Arthur's chest does a little flip and he says his goodbyes to Gwen and goes in to see Gaius.

Merlin comes in five minutes later as Gaius is wrapping his arm.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the stocks?"

"Yes." he taps his fingers. "You want to keep me company?"

"Merlin," Gaius sighs, "I'm sure the prince has Important things to do."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "I'll walk you there, but I'm not staying when the throwing starts."

"But Arthur, that's when I need you there the most! You'll be the moral support. And they throw so much softer when you're there, glaring at them and intervening when they throw something too hard."

"I don't glare," he mumbles. He had only intervened once, because someone had brought a melon! With someone as scrawny as Merlin it could have killed him!

"Arthur, please. I'm asking as your friend."

"We're friends?" He says, voice cracking. He clears his throat. "I mean, of course we are. Yes. Just this once."

"Excellent, it gets boring without you." He holds out his hands and Arthur takes them.

"Could say the same about you."

"Glad to hear it, entertaining is my job after all. And y'know what they say, a jester unemployed is nobody's fool."

Arthur groans. "Let's get you to the stocks already."

-

One of the cooks children is hanging around the castle today, a young boy. All was going well until the cook dropped a plate and the child stopped it from breaking… by making it float in the air. In front of everyone.

Uther's response is predictable as ever.

"Execute him."

The guards hesitate and reluctantly move to grab the child. Merlin jumps in front of him, face stony. Hes wearing a jingly jesters hat, which makes it all seem a lot less dramatic as the bells loudly tinkle.

He holds out his hands in appeal. "No, it was me. I... have magic, I did it."

"Merlin, this is no time for jokes."

"I'm not. Look."

He levitates a glass. Uther furrows his brow, looking between Merlin and the glass, and then smiling.

"I see. Very impressive trickery, the string is not noticeable at all. I'm glad to see you taking your duties as an entertainer seriously."

Arthur and Merlin lock eyes incredulously, and Merlin gets a spark in his eye that means he's about to pull off something stupid.

"Yes, sire, he's my jesting student. I've been teaching him to do tricks. James, do the thing.”

"My name's not-"

"James, work with me here," hisses Merlin.

All eyes fix on the child, who shuffles his feet. Merlin leans over and whispers to him, and the boy reaches up, grabs Merlins ear and pulls a coin from it.

Uther claps."Alright, Merlin, I suppose this has all been a big misunderstanding. The boy is free to go."

Merlin bows, and Arthur grabs him, herding him out of the room.

“You have magic.” Merlin pulls a coin from his ear and Arthur swats him away. This is a big deal, it changes everything. Merlin's got to be terrified out of his mind, being here in the castle, he probably wants to leave. Arthur can't let that happen. “...You could be some kind of magical bodyguard, if you stayed," he tries. It pays well, Merlin would have status, maybe that would make up for the danger he endures here.

Merlin pauses and then shrugs. "No thanks. I don't think I'd look good in the uniform."He pulls another coin from his ear.

Arthur grits his teeth and nods tersely. Of course Merlin wouldn't be swayed so easily. "You're right. You should leave, you of course know the penalty is death, in Camelot."

"They'd have to catch me first, and given that that oaf is in charge, no offense… I'll take my chances. And I have good reasons to stay." He reaches out and pats Arthur's shoulder in a way that's probably supposed to mean something, but for the life of him, Arthur doesn't know what. The fool doesn't seem afraid at all. God, something is wrong with him. "Besides, I'm not totally sure I can even die?"

"What?"

-

Uther means well, when he tries to set him up with dignitaries from neighboring kingdoms. He wants him to find love, and find someone who will strengthen the kingdom.

But it doesn’t ever go well. They’re all just… so dull. So eager to please the person they think he is. Which is why he is currently spending his day across from a very handsome young man who has been droning on about tax law for fifteen minutes. From the way he keeps glancing at smudged words on his palm, it's clear that he’s memorized this speech in hopes of impressing Arthur, but all it’s doing is making him crave a long nap.

His eyelids droop heavily as he attempts to nod along to whatever he's saying; all of it things he knows because he lives here and why wouldn't the bloody prince of Camelot already know Camelots own tax laws?

The door opens and Merlin walks in, beaming. The smile slips from his face when he sees someone else in the room, and he turns uncertainly, as if to leave. Arthur makes a face that he hopes conveys how desperately he needs a distraction. It must work, because Merlin turns back, and comes up to the table, leaning over the other mans shoulder. “Taxes and infrastructure, eh? I guess you’ve heard about the new changes to the trade roads then?”

The man- what was his name? Duke Ben something- jumps at the sudden noise and adjusts his glasses. “Of course. I assure you I keep up with these things very closely.”

“I’m sure you do. What are your thoughts on the changes in agriculture taxes this past season? Your notes are off, the changes were enacted a fortnight ago, not last week, and they don't apply to merchants traveling outside Camelot.”

Duke Ben-something-or-other clears his throat and looks Merlin up and down. “Apologies, my lord, I have not introduced myself. I am Duke Benedict Earl James the Fourteenth." He stands and bows.

“And I’m Merlin.” Merlin scratches his armpit.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “He means your title, idiot.”

“Oh. I’m the Court Jester.”

Duke Benedicts entire demeanor changes so fast it’s almost impressive. “Ah, that explain why you thought my notes wrong. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand the intricacies of tax law.”

Merlin and Arthur exchange a glance and Arthur tries hard to hold in his expression. Merlin and Uther have been passive aggressively exchanging notes on the laws for months, Merlin creating an idea and Uther shooting it down; Uther proposing a compromise and Merlin tearing it to pieces- Merlin is responsible for creating half of these new laws, and has a fair amount of input on the rest.

Merlin nods solemnly. “Yes, a fool like me knows nothing of such topics, I leave that to you rich prats. Always taxing the poor," he sighs a weary sigh. "In my opinion, you should all be guillotined.” He looks at Arthur again and his eyes soften. “Even Arthur.”

“Prince Arthur.” Arthur says, amused. He’s certain he’s wearing a soft expression to match, but can’t bring himself to mind.

“Him too. Y’know,” he takes a seat at the table, snatching Duke Benedicts fat stack of notes as Duke Benedict sputters, “Ben- can I call you Ben? Let’s discuss foreign tax policy on sheep imports. Maybe some smart fellows like you two could teach me a thing or two.”

Duke Benedicts eye twitches. Arthur smiles politely. This lunch has just become a lot more interesting.

-

After several hours, Duke Benedict finally takes his leave, and Arthur is certain he will not call on Arthur again. Arthur and Merlin laugh themselves silly over the encounter, and when they finally settle down, Arthur will catch Merlins eye and they will begin laughing again. Merlin is flushed with laughter, and Arthurs chest is warm with affection. Arthur can’t help himself. "I'm calling on you tonight to do a private performance."

"Private performance, eh?” he waggles his eyebrows. “This isnt some weird euphemism where you want me to warm your bed, is it?"

"No," he says, offended that Merlin would think so low of him. He stops laughing. "...Hold on, did someone tell you you had to do that? Because that's not alright and-"

"Relax, I'm only kidding. What kind of performance? Want me to tell some jokes for your friends?"

"It's…” It seems silly to ask, now; it makes his feelings so incredibly obvious. But he’s dug his grave. “I thought we could spend time together.”

"And- just to clarify- by spend time, you don't mean killing me for sorcery, do you?

"No!"

"Kidding! I'm kidding!"

"...Come be funny, thats all. You know, the thing you're paid for and regularly fail at."

"You like my jokes."

Yes, well, I like everything you say. "Theres a difference between laughing at your jokes and laughing at you."

Merlin nudges his shoulder. "Ill be there at 6."

-

They spend a lot of time together, now. When Merlin’s not entertaining or helping Gaius, he’s in Arthurs room, or on a hunting trip with Arthur, or fighting with Arthur when he’s being an ‘insufferable cabbage head.’

It’s fantastic. It’s also terrible, because Merlin is always joking with him and touching him on the shoulders when he steals food from his plate. All the time.

It's a bother.

Hes thinking about it at lunch. Merlin has been all over him today, closer than usual and almost… nervous. Acting very odd.

Merlin is midway through a joke when he trails off, watching the serving boy pour Arthur more wine. He coughs and begins again, moving swiftly across the room to stand behind Arthur. He reaches for the chalice, and Arthur knocks his hand away.

“You’re always stealing from my plate, we feed you plenty,” he says in faux irritation, lifting the chalice to his lips.

“Just a sip,” Merlin says, reaching out again to try and tip it, and again Arthur goes it from his reach.

Merlin laughs, and it has a strange edge to it. "Have you all heard the one about the pestle with the vessel and the chalice in the palace? No? It's a little song that- oops," he knocks Arthur's arm, spilling wine across his lap. "Oh, how clumsy of me. I had better-" he grabs the serving boy and takes the jug from his hands, pouring it across the floor. "What a mess. Oh dear, let's get that cleaned up."

He and Arthur exit to 'get him some clean clothes.'

"What was that?" asks Arthur, though hes got an inkling already.

"What was what?"

"You spilled wine all over me."

"Your glass was in my way."

"In the way of what," he grits out

"In the way of… greatness?"

"Enough games. It was poisoned, wasnt it?"

Merlin shrugs. "How would a lowly jester know! I was just doing my act."

“You were going to drink a sip! How stupid can you possibly be? What were you thinking?”

Merlins face shutters, going stiff in a way Arthur has never seen. “I was thinking I didn’t want to see you dead. I am here to serve you.”

“You’re the damned jester, you're not a knight-”

“You and I both know I’m more than that.”

"Is that why you agreed to spend time with me? To watch me like a guard dog?"

"Is… that not why you invited me to spend time together?" He blinks.

"Where did you get that idea?"

"You were going on about bodyguards and magic awhile back, and, well, I already spend a lot of my time protecting you. I thought you were using me as sort of an all day service."

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I wanted to spend time with you for it's own sake?"

"Because I'm funny?" He grins. "You admit it?"

"Because I like you. As in, you're my best friend. And… more," he grits out. "I said it, are you happy now?"

"You...You like me.” He stares, and then his face fills with understanding and he smiles. “Oh, you’re joking. Had me going there.”

"I leave that sort of thing to you."

"Seriously? Me? I'm mean to you every single day. Seriously, Arthur, you of all people," he eyes him up and down, "could do better than a clown!"

"You're not a clown, you're barely even funny. Thats just it. You always say what's on your mind." thats how Arthur knows he means it, when he pays him a compliment. And what makes him a good jester, a good advisor and friend. "Don't try making this into an argument, either."

"That is the nicest thing you've ever said. To anyone, I'm pretty sure," Merlin says. "And obviously you know I’ve loved you for ages.”

“I didn’t, actually, could you elaborate-”

“Later, I swear. For now... let’s get down to business.”

“Business?”

Merlin smiles, catlike. "Yeah, you know, fu-"

“You could stand to be a little more romantic about it!” His face is hot. “And it’s three in the afternoon!”

“That it is. You’re right. You have a meeting coming up, too." He pauses, thinking. "How about a kiss, though?”

“Oh, fine,” Arthur says, trying not to seem too eager as he leans in.

The door creaks open.

"Ah, just the two I wanted to see,” Uther strides in and they break apart, staring guiltily at him. "Arthur, sign this. Merlin, I know you’re not allowed to read official documents, but do it over his shoulder. I want your input."

"You're asking him and not me?" Arthur says, feigning annoyance.

Merlin winks at him and puts on his stupid cheeky smile. "Y'know what they say. The secret of a successful fool is that he's no fool at all."

They groan in unison.

-

"Arthur, a word.” Uther takes him aside where no one can overhear. “You're courting the fool."

"I am." He tenses, preparing for the lengthy lecture on dignity and marrying at your station.

"Excellent. I had hoped that was the case. Tell him I still expect grandchildren."

"You're… not angry?"

"No, he is a fine young man. And good for you. I am proud of you both."

Arthur nods, dumbfounded.

"And tell him to keep using that annoying "Orange you glad I didnt say banana" joke.

"He tells that one every day, I thought you were sick of it by now."

"He uses it every time hes in the stocks. People buy so much fruit to throw at him, its singlehandedly boosting the economy."