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Today was eleven years since Merlin first came to Camelot and eleven years since Arthur had met him.
The thought brought up memories of their first meetings and Arthur smiled. They had come a long way since then. He was currently looking over the speech Merlin had written for him. After adding a few things of his own, he set it down and took a moment to look around his chambers. The fireplace sat empty, not needed with the warm day. A bowl of new fruit sat on the table, and Merlin sat in one of the chairs, mending one of Arthur’s shirts.
Eleven years. It felt strange to treat the day like any other.
Setting down the speech, Arthur’s hand brushed against a parchment that he could have sworn hadn’t been there a moment ago. Picking it up, he felt his eyebrows raise as he read through it before looking across the room incredulously.
“Merlin. What is this?”
“A piece of parchment, Sire.” Merlin drawled in response, raising a disinterested eyebrow in contrast to Arthur’s disbelieving one. “I would hope you’d know that. Afterall, you sit at that desk often enough to have used one once or twice. Although,” Merlin paused, as if dramatically thinking it over, “I do write your speeches so I suppose it’s possible—ack!” He ducked as a small paperweight flew over his head.
“Merlin did you write it?”
“Will you kill me if I say yes?”
“What? Why would I—” Arthur cut himself off, glancing down at the note in his hand. “Is that a yes?” Arthur looked at his manservant, befuddled.
“…Yes?” Merlin rubbed his neck awkwardly, fiddling with the knot of his neckerchief. “It’s been eleven years, and I figured you’re obviously too oblivious to figure it out and…”
“Merlin, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.” Merlin deadpanned. “I told the whole court, you prat.” A sudden memory of Merlin bursting into the throne room came to mind and Arthur groaned.
“Oh.”
“If that’s all!” Merlin clapped, standing from his chair. “I’ll just be on my wa-“
“Merlin. You do realize this is treason, right?” Arthur asked, lifting the traitorous note. “Even just knowing about this, now I’m committing treason as well!”
“Can the king even commit treason? I thought.. I mean, aren’t you exempt from that?”
Arthur huffed. “That is beside the point, Merlin. It’s still against the law.”
“So change it.” Merlin shrugged casually, as if he hadn’t just said something that was utterly unfathomable.
“I can’t-“ Arthur spluttered, “Do you have any idea how much effort goes into changing the law? I can’t just wave a hand and make things how I want, there are rules and procedures.”
Merlin paused where he held the door half open, his expression one of mock confusion. “But you are the king aren’t you?”
“Merlin!” Arthur’s shout bounced off the closed door where his friend—who apparently had magic?!?— had been standing mere seconds before.
Eleven years. What a way to celebrate it.