Chapter Text
Merlin arrived at the doors of the great hall with great trepidation. He straightened as his mother and father appeared, pride evident on their smiling faces. His father briefly put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he passed which did nearly nothing for the nervousness that flitted about in his belly. It was honestly a miracle he hadn’t thrown up on someone’s shoes yet.
He stepped into the hall lightly, as if afraid they would throw him out if he made too much noise despite the hundred or so nobles stomping their way in. Merlin made his way through the chatting mass to the front of the room where his mother now stood. His father was farther in, to the right of the throne as was his place as an appointed dragonlord. Before he could talk to them Queen Ygraine strode into the room in a gown studded with jewels that glimmered like stars. She was followed by her son, clad in his chainmail and billowing red cloak. Both of them wore ceremonial crowns. The hall immediately formed tight rows and quieted as they sat upon their thrones.
Merlin stood by his mother in the frontmost row, waiting anxiously. He hoped he wasn’t too sweaty in the ceremonial garb he was wearing. It was the fancy kind that bore his family crest and colors and seemed hellbent on smothering him before anything had even started. Even his magic seemed to disobey him as it jumped under his skin.
He tugged uselessly at the collar before Geoffrey, the historian and officiant of the binding, stepped forward. Queen Ygraine nodded to him. The ceremony officially started as the ancient man cleared his throat.
“For many years beyond our time, the crown has been supported and served by a mage of the old religion. A single magic user was trained to protect as well as advise. With the ascension of the Pendragon line, this position became known as the dragonlord.” The man shuffled and sniffled like he was trying to keep himself from dozing off. “Today, we have come to appoint the newest in that line. To serve, protect, and honor the son of Pendragon.”
“Merlin of Ealdor, son of Sir Balinor, step forward.” Geoffrey said. Merlin gulped as he did so, knelt shakily before the queen and his father. His cloak, he hoped, settled gracefully around him. “Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, son of Uther Pendragon, son of Ygraine de Bois, step forward.” He heard the shuffle of his cloak and chainmail as the prince stood.
“Merlin of Ealdor, do you swear fealty to Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, to defend and obey him until death?”
“I swear.” Merlin said. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine.
“Do you swear to use your magic solely to protect this man or as he so commands?”
“I swear.” He subtly wiped his hands on his pants. The Queen gestured to Balinor. His father strode forward.
“Please join hands.” He said to the Prince and Merlin. They both awkwardly grasped hands, Merlin looked at anything but the Prince as he kneeled before him. “Repeat after me, Merlin.” He said. “I, your name, do swear and pledge my magic and sword to Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, to defend and obey him until death. Upon my magic, this I swear.”
Merlin’s hand was already sweaty again, he could feel the slide of his grip against the prince’s as his magic bubbled. He lifted his eyes to the Prince’s, studying the man he was pledging his life to.
“I, Merlin of Ealdor, do swear and pledge my magic and sword to Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, to defend and obey him until death. Upon my magic, this I swear.” he said. He could feel his magic slide out from under his skin, cool and refreshing. A faint glow emanated from their conjoined hands. The Prince’s eyes widened before his expression quickly resumed its princely nonchalance.
“Prince Arthur, Please repeat after me,” Balinor said. “I, your name, do swear to honor Merlin of Ealdor as a protector and accept his magic. Upon my crown, this I swear.”
“I, Arthur Pendragon, do swear to honor Merlin of Ealdor as a protector and accept his magic. Upon my crown, this I swear.” The prince said. His magic sang as it enveloped Arthur, burrowed deep into his skin, and settled. Merlin felt the beat of the Prince’s heart, the stretch of his muscles, the breath in his lungs for the barest of seconds and he nearly fainted. Stars danced in his vision as his senses returned to his own body. He blinked up at the prince, he could still feel the Prince at the edge of his consciousness, like a barely-there memory that he could focus on with effort. The Prince looked to Merlin’s Father.
“Arise, Sir Merlin, dragonlord of Arthur Pendragon.” His father said, beaming with pride. Merlin stood and took his rightful place beside Prince Arthur.
---
Merlin, Sir Merlin now he supposed, realized an hour into being Arthur’s dragonlord that he had made a grave error. He had not realized his new master was an enormous prat. Merlin had barely received his signs of office; a new cloak bearing the crest of house pendragon, a ceremonial sword, ridiculously well-tailored armor, as well as a dusty tome on the etiquette of a dragonlord before he was given his first task. Or well, tasks.
“I’ll need you to polish my armor, sharpen my sword…” Arthur said when Merlin had finished escorting him to his chambers. He’d barely stepped foot in the room before he was bombarded with tasks. He heard most of them. “...Feed my dogs. Oh! Of course, almost forgot. And muck my personal stables.” Arthur grinned.
Merlin could actually feel equal parts amusement and hostility radiating from the prince. He stood slackjawed and floundering still in his ceremonial attire.
“But I’m— I’m not— That’s… I’m your dragonlord! Not a servant!” He cried.
“Oh, but you pledged to obey me, yes? Unfortunately, my manservant was sacked this morning. So terrible, poor George, he loved organizing socks. But look! You’re here now. A perfectly good manservant already pledged solely to me. It shouldn’t even be a challenge since you have magic so I expect it all done by tomorrow” Arthur said, malice in his eyes.
“But-”
“That’s an order, Merlin. Fulfill your duty to your prince.”
And that was that. Merlin left with a mumbled yes and went to change into something more suited to the work he was assigned. A red shirt that was usually what he trained in, a pair of brown wool pants that he seldom wore, a belt, his least favorite boots, and a blue neckerchief. He had a feeling he’d need more clothes for this purpose. He sighed and tried to remember all the things Arthur had told him to do.
---
It was dark before he stumbled into his new room. He had missed the banquet held in his and the Prince’s honor, dinner, and the chance to get heated water from the kitchens for a bath. All he could do was get the tub for bathing and conjure water into it. Heating it with magic would likely result in him boiling himself alive in his addled state so he settled for the temperature it had been conjured at.
He stripped quickly and sat in the frigid water before he could think better of it then proceeded to scrub off the muck of the day in record time. By the time he finished, he was shivering in a tub of filth. He stood, magicked the water, if he could even call it that with the state it was in, out the window. He winced as he heard a shout from below. He pitied the poor soul that had been doused in it.
He hastily dried himself before collapsing into his very nice bed. Sleep crashed over him quickly.
---
The problem with being the prince’s dragonlord, other than him being a massive prick, was that their rooms were conjoined for ease of access in the case of an emergency. Merlin had not considered that when he had passed out nude atop his covers the night before. He had also not considered that Arthur would wake up before him or that he would burst into his rooms with no warning demanding breakfast.
Merlin would have been embarrassed if he had cared enough but he was preoccupied with trying to go back to sleep. Arthur going beet red at the sight of Merlin’s bare ass was nowhere near amusing enough to excuse being woken up so early. It wasn’t even fully light out. Who wakes up at such an ungodly hour?
“It’s time for my breakfast!” Arthur said. Merlin groaned. He certainly wasn’t getting any more sleep like this. He rolled out of his nice warm bed, probably flashing Arthur in the process but oh well. He strode to the basin in the corner and filled it with conjured water. Somewhere during the process of washing his face, Arthur had left. He doubted it was the end of that conversation but that could wait until he could actually think.
He pulled on his clothes, not anything that he should be wearing as a dragonlord but was probably mandatory if the day before was any clue. A shirt that had a hole or two in the back he needed to mend, pants that were a step away from threadbare, the boots he wore the day before— magicked clean more than once, the belt, a neckerchief, and a jacket to cover the holes in his shirt. He looked like an everyday servant rather than one of the most powerful sorcerers in the land. He made a mental note never to go by the council chambers in such.
Merlin decided to get the Prince’s breakfast before he showed his face. He made his way to the kitchens slowly as he rubbed the leftover sleep from his eyes. He turned the corner leading out of the royal wing when he bumped into a maid carrying freshly laundered linens. They flew out of her hands with a magnificent whoosh. He barely had to think before they reassembled into a neat stack in one hand as he caught the maid in the other. Not exactly the heroics he had trained for but it would have to do.
“Oh no! I’m sorry! That was so clumsy of me.” The maid said as she scrambled away, nearly scattering the linens once again in the process.
“No, I’m sorry I should be more careful. Are you alright?” Merlin said. He offered her the stack back. She took it gratefully.
“My name is Gwen. Guinevere. Thank you for catching these. I would have had to redo them all if they had fallen. Not that I’d mind! The queen obviously needs clean sheets.” She said, flashing a pretty smile.
“It was no problem,” he said. He held out a hand then withdrew when he remembered hers were full. “I’m Merlin.”
“Oh! I’m sorry I should have realized. The whole castle is buzzing about you!” She tried to do a small curtsy. The sheets wobbled in her hands. “You probably have things to do, my lord! I’m so sorry for having bothered you, Sir Merlin.”
“Not really and just Merlin is fine. I’m basically just a servant right now anyway.” He said as he rubbed his neck.
“Sorry, right, just Merlin. Okay. It’s not that I don’t enjoy talking to you. I do! But—” she gestured at the sheets.
“Yeah, right, sorry. It was nice to meet you.”
“You too! My Lo— Merlin.” She made another abortive curtsy before walking towards the royal wing. He felt a pang of pain from Arthur, nothing serious but annoying enough that he rolled his eyes before hurrying to the kitchens. He gathered a platter of food along with a pitcher of water for the prince and grabbed a roll and a hunk of cheese for himself. Perhaps, he thought, if he finished what he was sure to be another endless list of chores early he could relax with one of his books.
When he arrived back at Arthur’s room it looked like a hurricane had swept through. Blankets, furniture, clothes, everything the prince had in his room laid strewn across the floor in various states of brokenness. Merlin picked his way through the debris to set the Prince’s breakfast on the table— one of the few pieces of furniture that had survived and remained upright. The Prince sat on his coverless bed nursing a stubbed toe.
“I wasn’t even gone twenty minutes— how did you? Why?” Merlin said.
“I couldn’t find my sword.” Arthur said and shrugged. No remorse was in his voice, he sounded bored . Merlin’s magic buzzed under his skin as his shock morphed into anger.
“ It is on the table. ” Merlin gritted out. He pointed at the freshly polished sword in plain sight on the table.
“Oh! There it is! I must have missed it somehow.” Arthur said. He was still in his sleep clothes, Merlin noticed through his red-tinted gaze. “Could you do something about this? I’m not terribly keen on splinters.”
Merlin couldn’t even speak. He was livid. He was fuming. He was infuriated . But he was bound. He obeyed without even thinking about it. His eyes flashed as broken and torn and dented items returned to their previous pristine forms and then returned to the positions they had been in the day before. The sheets even wiggled themselves beneath Arthur’s ass to remake the bed.
Merlin took a deep breath and willed himself to be neutral. “Breakfast is on the table in case you can’t find that either.” Then he strode to his room. He pulled out one of his spellbooks. He shoved it in a bag with a few herbs and a talisman. He grabbed his sword and set off for the training grounds. As he passed the Prince’s room he set a defensive charm on the man, enough to protect him from most magical threats and some physical ones. He felt it settle into place before he stalked off.
The sun was fully up when he arrived at the training grounds. Dew beaded on the grass and fog floated in wisps above the ground. He drew a deep breath in, enjoying the cool feel of the air in his lungs. Merlin set his bag on a table after he wiped the dew off with his neckerchief. He left the damp cloth on the table then pulled his sword from its sheath. He ran through the basic drills before and stretches as the sun rose before adding his magic into the movements.
First, he used simple charms to amplify the power of his swings, cleaving the left arm off of a dummy in a single swing. Then he added another to increase his speed. Another to create a shroud of superheated air over the blade hot enough to cause the dummy to burst into flames upon contact but not harm the blade. The right arm of the dummy burned off. He reversed the temperature to subcool in a flash. The dummy’s helmeted head shattered into slivers of wood and metal.
He dropped his enchantments on the sword to slash at the dummy’s torso. He pretended to drop under the guard of the decimated dummy, stabbed through the chest plate, and whispered a spell. The armor, as well as the dummy, exploded and he threw up a shield in the milliseconds before the splinters came within inches of him. They embedded in the shield before dropping with it. Merlin took a steadying breath and then reformed the dummy.
Merlin ran through the basic drills again then the complex ones. Again and again and again until his muscles were barely functioning. His lungs pumped air like a bellows. His magic felt more used than it had in months. He still hadn’t strayed anywhere near his limit but it was a good workout.
Hours after he started practicing he sat on top of the table that he had laid his bag on flipping through his spellbook. Merlin lazily sent some shimmering butterflies through the spring air. They fluttered around for a few minutes before evaporating into showers of sparks. He slid off the table and walked back to the royal wing. He peeled the sweat-soaked clothes off. He cleaned himself off at the basin with a cloth.
Merlin felt vaguely around for where Arthur was. A silver thread appeared in front of him that phased gently through the stone of the castle. The thought of seeing Arthur's sneering face made him want to run in the opposite direction but considering it was only his second day as the Prince’s dragonlord he should probably muster the patience to deal with him. Merlin really did not want to be recorded in history as the worst dragonlord ever.
He put on his garb of office. A pair of supple leather boots, linen pants, a light wool undershirt, a padded gambeson, a chainmail overshirt, a belt for his sword, and a cloak bearing the pendragon crest. All of which had been tinted black except for his cloak and gambeson to distinguish a dragonlord from a regular knight. He added one of his neckerchiefs which he’d grown fond of to the ensemble, red for continuity in the palate. He preferred the loose and thin clothes he usually wore. Perhaps he’d petition the queen for a change in the dragonlord uniform.
He situated his ceremonial sword on his belt as well as a dagger. He’d learned always to be prepared in his training, though he doubted anyone would get that far into the citadel unnoticed.
After a final once over he followed the evershifting thread connecting him to Arthur. He passed several servants as well as knights, all of which gave him a wide berth. It was both a blessing and a curse. He preferred to avoid the prattish upper-crust knights but he would have liked to talk with the servants. Merlin nearly bumped into yet another servant for the day while following the thread, it was honestly getting embarrassing. He’d trained since boyhood to be the personal knight to a monarch. One would think he would be more aware of his surroundings.
As Merlin came closer to the Prince the steady thrum of his magic pulled him faster along. By the time he reached him, he was nearly jogging. He opened the doors to, surprisingly, the great library. Geoffrey sat at his desk studiously writing on a piece of parchment. Merlin strode by him with a nod as the thread pulled harder.
At a small desk in the magical text section, he found Arthur dozing with various books strewn around him. Most were about dragonlords, he had probably cleared the shelves with the volume of books he slept upon, the rest were other magical texts. One peaked out from the slumbering prince’s head, a book on mythical creatures cracked open to the page about griffons. If he had drooled on the book Merlin wasn’t sure he would exit the library with all his bits still attached, not that Merlin would mind watching the geriatric librarian tear apart the prince.
Merlin flicked his wrist and a gush of water spouted into existence above Arthur’s head. It swept him clear from his bench and flooded the section. He dispersed it all as soon as Arthur awoke, eyes wide, floundering, rolling to his feet in a defensive stance. Not a drop of water remained.
“Did you just try to drown me ?” Arthur huffed.
“As you can see, sire, there is no water here.” Merlin said.
“No, I was sitting there, uh, reading. And then I was swept away by water. I could have died.” He said as he pointed an accusatory finger at Merlin.
“There is no water here, sire. You fell off the bench after an exceptionally loud snore. You can ask the librarian. Perhaps you had a bad dream?” Merlin said, schooling his face into one of careful concern.
“No, that won’t be necessary.” Arthur backpedaled. He stepped close enough that only Merlin would be able to hear. “Tell no one of this.” Merlin fought the urge to snicker as Arthur rubbed his head and gathered his books. He would have been able to feel if Arthur had been hurt at all, the only wounded factor there was his pride.
---
Much to Merlin’s dismay, the days carried on with Arthur trashing his room like a spoiled child and having him run about like a common servant. He was using his magic more to clean up Arthur’s messes than he was to protect him, though he did stop him from falling down the stairs once. He’d nearly gone down after tripping over a bucket Merlin had set down.
At the very least he had been able to talk to Gwen a few times as she passed him in the corridor. She had a habit of putting her foot in her mouth but he didn’t mind. She seemed to be the only person in the castle that didn’t avoid him or give him a chore list a mile long. It was definitely a plus that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.
Merlin sighed and waved off such fanciful thoughts. The queen had called the war council so there he stood, by Arthur’s side like a good dragonlord, in his stuffy garb of office. His hand twitched at regular intervals atop his ceremonial sword as Ygraine outlined the usual agendas. He finally started to listen when she came to the real order of business of the court meeting.
“There have been reports of bandits in the village of Ealdor. Arthur, I’ll need you to prepare your riders to leave at first light. Losing their harvest would strike a significant blow to the kingdom.” Ygraine said. Her tone was steady but Merlin could see her wringing her hands slightly as she told Arthur to ride out.
“Of course, mother. I’ll take my best.” Arthur said. She nodded.
“This meeting is adjourned, then. Arthur, a word?” She gestured for him to approach as the nobles filed out. Merlin started for the doors as well before a warm hand settled on his shoulder.
“We haven’t seen you in quite some time, my boy. Your mother asks about you every day. How are you faring?” Balinor asked. Merlin turned around to see his father. A smile played across his features but his eyes were filled with concern.
“Sorry, dad. I meant to send a letter but I’ve had my hands full with the Prince.” Merlin said. Balinor nodded solemnly.
“Your sacred duty comes first. I understand.”
“No, I mean I literally have not had time. He keeps me busy every hour of the day with chores. He had me muck out his stables! I couldn’t even get the smell out with magic. I had to burn the clothes!”
“That is ah… unusual but you did make a vow to obey him in everything.”
“I did! If I knew I would be his lackey-”
“You’d what, Merlin?” He said sternly. “My son, you dreamed of becoming a dragonlord since you were a child. It was never going to be like in the tales. It’s devoting your everything to a person you might hate for the greater good.”
“But he’s a prat!”
“It won’t always be so bad. It took years for Uther to warm to me but then he was one of the best friends I have ever had the honor of having. Enough of that, when you have the time come to my rooms. I have a gift I’ve been meaning to give you.”
“Dad, I-”
“Merlin!” Arthur said. His prattish form materialized to Merlin’s left.
“It seems you’re needed.” His father said. “I look forward to seeing you again. Make sure to write, your mother is ready to hunt you down.”
“Yeah, okay...” Merlin said. He barely had gotten the words out before he was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug.
“Whatever you do I know you’ll make me proud.”
His father bid him goodbye then followed the queen out. When Merlin turned to leave with his own charge he noticed that Arthur was looking pointedly away.