Archive of Our Own

Trouble in the Servant Hall

Gwen could hear shouting as she rustled down the stairs with a basket of linens. It seemed some poor servant was a victim of the steward’s ire again. His yell echoed off the stone walls of the corridor outside his office.

“I don’t care what the king said. You get back up there. It’s his lunchtime!”

“But Merlin is back. The king told me himself that he prefers him.”

Gwen’s stomach clenched. That was George. She dropped off the basket in the laundry room and crept toward the sound.

“That’s ridiculous! He was kidnapped and nearly died. He’ll be off for a couple of days, at least.”

Gwen poked her head into the open doorway. “Is there something going on? Can I help in any way?” She chewed the side of her bottom lip, noting the mood of the room.

With slumped shoulders and hands on his lap, George sat across from the steward who was now standing at his small desk, jabbing at its surface with a pointed finger to keep from coming across it and strangling the boy.

As soon as she had popped in, George had startled and turned around to greet her with barely concealed watery eyes. She pressed her lips together and gave the steward a passing glare, but forced a cheerful tone when she said, “I will take Arthur’s lunch to him. It is really no trouble at all. George can polish his armor. It could really do with a scrub before the knighting ceremony.”

George’s fingers tightened on his knees as his eyes shifted between the steward and Gwen. Shockingly, the steward gave in. “That’ll do, then. You can serve the king’s lunch and George will polish the armor.” George’s knee jerked, but he couldn’t seem to move the rest of his body. The steward gave him another withering look and he jumped from the chair, almost knocking Gwen off-balance as he passed her in the doorway.

The Armor

The sharp smell of linseed oil greeted Leon as he entered the armory. “George? I thought you were with Arthur today. Gwen said you’ve been waiting to stand in for Merlin for a long time.”

George laid aside the polishing cloth and a shiny breast plate. “Yes, but Merlin’s back now.”

Leon paused at the sword rack. “I know, but I just thought Arthur would have given him the day off.”

George shrugged and began to scrub on Arthur’s pauldron. “I’m not sure, but I do know he didn’t want me up there.” He hit the joints a little harder with the brush while Leon slowly reached for a hilt, unsure what to say. “Gwen is taking him his lunch. I thought he may wear his chainmail for the knighting ceremony. That's when I saw all this.” He spread an arm, waving towards the muddy pauldron and picking it up.

“Didn’t you just do all that last night?” Leon said.

“Yes, but this is from the trip to the bog. I just finished dry-brushing and shaking out the mail.” George grimaced, using a pick-like tool in the crevices on the pauldron where it bent over the shoulder. “One has to stay on top of this, or it will rust.”

Leon raised his chin and gave an impressed sniff. “I don’t think that’s going to happen with you around.”

George blinked with a small smile and continued to rotate the armor, inspecting it for missed spots as Leon left for the training ground.

Hidden Job Description of a Royal Manservant

Gwen took Arthur’s lunch tray back to the kitchen. George stood in front of a tall table, rubbing a lemon half over a brass goblet. Two bowls of water sat on either side of him, and in the middle was a plate of salt and lemons and a few goblets spread around.

“Are things going alright now?” she said, setting the tray down.

A corner of George’s mouth turned up. “Yes. Thank you for…earlier.” He shifted to the side and made room for her. “You can use mine,” he said, with a tilt of his face toward the sudsy bowl.

She smiled gratefully and picked up one of Arthur’s dishes. She dipped it into the already warmed up water and began to wash. George switched the rinsing bowl and salt plate and moved further down. The fresh smells of the herby soap and citrus was invigorating, and the two worked side by side, enjoying the lull in the normally boisterous kitchen.

George dipped a goblet he had finished scrubbing into the rinsing water. He dried it with a soft cloth, buffing any remaining film off. “Do you think the king will ever have me come back after the disaster this morning?”

Gwen moved a little closer with a sympathetic frown. “It couldn’t have been that bad, could it?” She started pulling dishes from the rinsing bowl and drying them.

“I did everything right. I polished his armor, sharpened his sword, selected his clothes, and made him a huge breakfast,” he said, picking up another goblet. He dipped a new lemon half in a plate of salt.

“It’s not you,” she said, “or the job you’re doing or not doing. Arthur just missed Merlin and he was worried.”

“I was, too. I’ve never known the king to go anywhere without him. I knew something was wrong when he didn’t come back with him, but he’s here now. The king is happy, so I’ll just stay out of sight.”

Gwen finished working and fidgeted with the cloth. “Yes, well, I’m still a little worried about Merlin. I know you don’t want to go back, but when Arthur gets ready for the knighting ceremony, can you just go up and help?”

George huffed. “Merlin is helping him. He doesn’t need me. He doesn’t even like me. I wish I could be more like Merlin, but I’m not.”

Gwen smirked, glancing up and down at his blue tunic and red neckerchief complete with brown pants, jacket, and boots. Her eyebrow twitched when she said, “Oh, I don’t know. You play the part pretty well. Maybe if you told him a joke or something, it would help. You can’t be so serious all the time with Arthur.” She hit him lightly on the bicep. “The reason Arthur likes Merlin so much is because he can laugh when he’s around him.”

George shifted, not sure what to do with this information. Finally, he said, “I suppose I may know a joke or two.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes and tapped her finger to her chin, seeming to size up that statement. George dropped his eyelids and looked up again, but gave no further explanation. “So you’ll be there to serve Arthur later, right?” George blinked, not sure why it was so terribly important that he serve the king later when Merlin was back, but then Gwen grabbed his forearm and said, “Please. There’s something… off about Merlin.”

George frowned, but dipped his head, sealing the deal. She let go of his arm and smoothed her skirt awkwardly. “Well, I need to pick up a couple of things from the lower town,” she said, dismissing herself.

George went back to polishing, working a little faster. He would need to go help Arthur get ready soon.

Crossed Paths

George had fetched the armor and was on his way to Arthur’s chambers with the precarious load when Gwaine ran into him. The knight had pilfered a piece of chicken from the kitchens, and was laughing with a maid in the hallway. “Seems I got to eat some of your chicken, after all,” he teased while she passed him by, holding the snack up as if he were making a toast, turning backwards to watch her enter the kitchen.

That was when he bumped into George, causing him to almost drop the armor, smearing chicken grease onto the newly cleaned pauldron. “Oh George, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Gwaine held his hands up, chicken leg in one, the other coming down to wipe off the pauldron.

George pushed Gwaine’s hand away, pulling his neckerchief off, and rubbing the spot himself. He mumbled, “I have to get this armor to the king for the ceremony.”

Gwaine made a wincing grimace and gave George a couple of pats on the shoulder with his non-chicken hand. “Sorry,” he mouthed silently, and watched helplessly as he restored the armor.

Neither noticed as Merlin passed by, heading for the armory.

A few minutes later, George pushed open the door to Arthur’s chambers. The ceremony was to begin soon, but Arthur wasn’t there. He would be late if he didn’t get ready now. Setting the armor aside, George wandered back out into the hallway, looking for him. He turned a corner, and Merlin came from the opposite direction towards Arthur’s room, carrying a crossbow. He went inside, but George never saw.

The Steward

As George walked another hall, a tall man in a velvet jacket approached him with a clipped gait. It was the steward, and when he spotted George, he quickened his pace. George took some uncertain steps forward until the steward grasped him by the arm and dragged him towards his office. He growled in a lowered voice, “I want to talk to you, young man.”

“But the king, I’m supposed to…” he started, but the man gripped him tighter with a warning look. George buttoned his lip and walked with him.

When they got to his office, he shut the door and pointed to the chair across from his desk. George sat in it with widened eyes.

The steward walked around the table that served as a make-shift desk and sat. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. He then propped his chin on that hand and sat blinking at George with an unreadable expression. George dropped his head.

“You’re not in trouble,” the steward said. George's head snapped up. “You’ve been here in the castle a while. I know you understand how things work, and you’re really one of the better servants. I believe you can be trusted, and it’s the main reason I put you with the king when Merlin was gone.”

George looked down at his clasped hands. “And the thing is…” he heard the steward say, “I want to say…you are aware there is a traitor in Camelot?” George rolled his head upwards and the steward’s eyes met his. “And this means the king’s life is in danger?”

George frowned, wondering what the steward was getting at.

“We think someone tried to poison the king,” he explained. “Some of the servants reported that one of our farmer’s pigs died after eating the king’s food. It’s just lucky that Gwen served him dinner today instead, and it’s lucky for you that you were in the armory.”

He paused, apparently not comfortable finishing that thought. George swallowed.

“The problem is, I don’t know who else could have taken him food, except Merlin, but it wouldn’t make sense that a man who has saved his life by drinking poison would try to do that to the king. Besides, Merlin is still recovering and hasn’t worked today.”

Before the steward had finished, George had sucked in his cheeks and looked back down at his lap. ‘There’s something off about Merlin,’ echoed in his mind. Interrupting, he looked straight across the desk. “Sir, I really need to get back to work. You can count on me. I will do everything in my power to keep the king safe.”

Late for Work

George rushed back to Arthur's room. The armor still lay on a side table, but no one was there. He ran towards the throne room. He wondered if Merlin would be there with the king. When he slammed open the door, the people at the ceremony all turned in sync. Glancing toward Arthur, he scanned for Merlin. He sidled over to Gwen who was standing toward the back. “Where is Merlin?” he hissed.

She grasped the sleeve of his jacket with a twist. “Where were you?” she said at almost the same time.

The fire snapping in her intense brown eyes cooled slightly as she met his fearful gaze.

“The steward wanted to talk to me.” George whispered back. “Has Merlin left?”

She wrinkled her nose, turning her face forward, suddenly keenly aware of all the surreptitious glances being directed their way. In the background, Arthur was laying the flat of his sword on the shoulder of a kneeling man, and then switched it, dubbing him Sir Mataius. When she was sure everyone was watching the ceremony again, she leaned over to George. “Merlin is not well. He won’t be coming back this evening. You’ll need to serve the king after the ceremony.”

George straightened, a look of realization and remorse on his face. His worry was ridiculous. The steward was right. There was no way Merlin would try to hurt the king, and now Merlin was sick, and here he had been thinking awful thoughts about the man. He ducked out of the ceremony early to get Arthur’s chambers ready.

Tea and a Tuck-In

When Arthur returned to his chambers for the evening, he was surprised to see a different servant than Merlin stoking the flames at the hearth.

The man stood up and turned around. Arthur recognized him as the servant who had brought him breakfast that morning. He raised his nose into the air and said, “Sire, I did not hear you come in. I have prepared the fire for you to warm your feet by and steeped some herbal tea to settle you in before bed. Would you like for me to remove your boots and give you some warmed woolen socks?” He spat out those last three words.

Arthur stared as the servant gestured towards two stockings hanging from nails on the mantle. It was odd that he had never noticed those nails being there before.

“Sire?”

Arthur just realized he hadn’t answered the man’s question. A name popped into his head as he watched him march to a chair by the fire and fluff a pillow on top of the cushion. “George,” Arthur managed, and George smiled with rapt attention. The servant shifted his eyes down to the chair and back up at Arthur and to the chair again. Arthur had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

Arthur’s shoulders slumped and he sighed out, “I can take my own boots off, thank you.” He plopped down into the chair and began to do so. George responded with an almost imperceptible huff, and the corner of Arthur’s mouth turned up involuntarily.

Arthur had really been hoping to talk to Merlin about his conversation with his uncle. He had noticed when Agravaine left the knighting ceremony early and had even gone to his chambers to confront him about suspecting him to be a traitor, but when his uncle assured him that he was the only living connection to his sister, Arthur didn’t know what to do with that, so he let the matter go. Then, when his uncle suggested Gaius may have leaked information about the route through the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Arthur was even more perplexed. Even though he had no intention of bringing Gaius in or mentioning his name to Merlin, Arthur still felt he would have been able to advise him.

Arthur had no sooner set his boots on the floor beside him when George whisked them away and returned with the wool socks. Arthur jerked them from George’s hands before he got any ideas, and was surprised to find that, in fact, they were very toasty and felt very nice on his feet.

“Would you like that tea now, sire?”

Arthur gave a distracted nod, still wishing Merlin was here to talk to. George briskly walked to the pot and poured a cup, straight-backed. Only his eyelids dropped to watch the liquid fill the wooden vessel.

George handed it to him. “Your tea, sire.” He then promptly returned to his post by the fire, hands withdrawn behind his back.

Arthur tapped his fingers on the cup, wondering if George planned to stand there and watch him the whole time. Before taking a sip, Arthur asked, “Do you know where Merlin is this evening?”

“My lord, he is indisposed after recent events. I will be happy to provide any assistance to you in his absence.”

Arthur swallowed, but it wasn’t just because of the tea. He wondered if Merlin had taken sick. There was no telling how long he had lain in that cold mud. When Merlin had passed out earlier, he didn’t know why he hadn’t stayed to see if he was alright. He told himself it was because he was already running late and he knew Gwen and Gaius would take care of him, but sometimes he was afraid maybe that wasn’t true.

Arthur had always prided himself in the fact that he didn’t regard station when it came to treating people right. He mulled these thoughts over in his head, about Merlin and the traitor and how Merlin had almost been lost forever. The tea was half gone when Arthur realized he was holding back tears, and he looked back to the only other human in the room.

George was still standing by the hearth. When Arthur looked at him, he said, “Would you like me to warm your cup?” He reached for the kettle over the fire.

Arthur held his hand up to refuse, but when he noticed the deflated look on George’s face, he changed his mind and said, “Uh yes, George. Thank you.”

This small token must have encouraged the servant because he suggested out of the blue, “Would you like to hear a joke, sire?”

Arthur raised a surprised brow with an uncertain smile. “Of course. Fire away.”

George nodded curtly as if he was about to perform a military exercise and proceeded to tell his joke with a very straight face. “There once was a beautiful lass who decided to polish some brass. She spilled the oil, the floor became glass, and she promptly fell on her…”

“Ahhemm, George. Where did you learn that joke from, Gwaine?” Arthur interrupted.

“No, sire.” He said it just as seriously as he had explained how he had prepared breakfast that morning.

Arthur wagged his head and gave him a weary hand-wave to go on. The next half hour Arthur listened with heavy eyes to George’s jokes until finally he offered to help him get ready for bed.

Arthur trudged to the changing screen and went through the motions of removing his clothes, letting them drop to the floor. George draped a night tunic over the screen, and Arthur grabbed it, surprised again that the cloth had been warmed. It had barely registered with him earlier, but he did recall seeing another chair by the fire with the tunic draped over the back.

The last thing Arthur remembered before being covered up was George blowing out a candle by the bed and saying, “Goodnight, sire.”

Another Sub Job

Gwen came to a storage room where George was polishing some brass charger plates. “Good morning. How did things go last night with Arthur?”

George poured a little liquid from a small jar and rubbed it into the plate. Gwen was fascinated as the tarnish that seemingly was not there at all came off onto the cloth, revealing a shiny gold beneath. He answered, “I thought it went well. He didn’t send me away.”

Gwen smiled. “Good. He’ll come around. He didn’t get along with Merlin, either, when he first started.”

George pursed his lip, concentrating on his work. “That’s what I’ve always heard, even though it’s hard to imagine now.” He took a dry cloth and wiped the plate free of slickness. “I took your advice and told him some jokes.”

“Really?” Gwen drawled out with an intrigued head tilt.

George sniffed and raised his chin. “Yes, I put him right to sleep.” He held up the plate inspecting it for flaws.

Gwen held back a strangled chuckle until she saw George stealing an amused glance as he placed the finished plate on an upper shelf. She snickered in spite of herself.

Gwen also picked up a plate and pulled a cloth from the folded stack on the table. They worked together a bit until she finally told him the reason she had come to talk to him. “You know, Merlin is probably going to need some more time off.”

George put down his cloth. “Is everything alright? I thought he was feeling better because when I was headed for Arthur’s chambers to draw his bath, he met me in the hall and told me not to bother, that he would take care of it.”

“Yes,” Gwen agreed, clearly holding something back. “He doesn’t seem to know how to take a day off. He keeps trying to come back, but I’m going to need you to stand in for him until we know he’s better.”

George’s face pinched with concern. Then he said, “I will be happy to do it. So, I take it that I need to prepare the king’s lunch?”

Gwen nodded.

“Well, then, I had better get to it.” He stacked up the remaining plates and put them back on the lower shelf.

“Thank you, George. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

He grinned and walked into the kitchen.

Extended Stay

For the next day and a half, George followed Arthur around, helping him with his armor, serving him his food, and putting him to bed. Arthur couldn’t help but notice how shiny his armor was, how big his meals were, and how warm his feet were at night before bed. The man didn’t do anything by halves, that was for sure.

He was just…dull, and he wasn’t Merlin.

Arthur had begun to wonder what had happened to Merlin after the cold bath water incident. He had disappeared the rest of the day. There was no explanation. Lunch time came. George was there.

He worked at his desk that afternoon. There was no Merlin tidying to bounce ideas off of. George swept, dusted, and fluffed pillows. He never spoke, but Arthur felt he was being watched.

Arthur couldn’t stand being cooped up anymore. “I think I’ll go to the training grounds before dinner.”

George stood by a table he had been dusting. “Sire, I will help you with your pauldron.”

Arthur tried straightening his desk quickly, frustrated that the servant was already almost beside him with the armor. He stacked his papers into a disheveled pile and started to stuff them into the drawer.

“I could get those for you, sire,” George said, but Arthur held up his hand in a halting motion. George stiffened. He backed away and let Arthur finish.

Agavaine’s Lie

Arthur had insisted that he go train on his own, but he kept sensing George was following him a few steps behind. He shook off the thought and marched out to the training grounds.

If someone would have asked about it, he would have never admitted he was taking out his stress over Merlin’s absence on the training dummy. And, since no one was saying that, he hit it until his muscles were quivering.

When he finished, he headed to the infirmary. If no one was going to tell him anything, he would find out himself. He resisted the urge to call out Merlin’s name in the halls, just in case he was sick. Agravaine was coming down the infirmary steps when Arthur arrived at the bottom.

“Arthur. Just the man I was looking for.” He put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders and started to lead him in the opposite direction. “There is an urgent matter I must discuss with you.”

“Uncle,” Arthur said warningly, shrugging out from under his grasp, “I am on my way to see Gaius about Merlin. He hasn’t showed up since lunch.”

Agravaine responded with a syrupy smile. “Apologies,” he said, retracting with raised palms. “It’s just…I just talked to Gaius and there are some matters…”

“Yes, that you need to discuss. You just said.”

Agravaine blinked quickly, the smile dropping. Then, his face lit up and the smile got pasted back on when he said, “Oh, you said you were looking for Merlin. Actually, I just saw him at the tavern, I believe. He wasn’t up there.” He pointed back to the infirmary door.

Arthur’s countenance dropped, and he didn’t notice the satisfied look on his uncle’s face.

“I was thinking we need to talk about the traitor. I believe I may have obtained some vital information,” Agravaine said, with a questioning eyebrow and outstretched palm pointing away from the infirmary. Arthur sighed and walked with his uncle.

The Manservant Returns

For the past few days, Gwen and Gaius had been through an ordeal with Merlin. He had been kidnapped, and he was found. After he returned home, however, all was not well.

They discovered Merlin was enchanted to kill Arthur when he tried poisoning Arthur’s food. They found a fomorroh snake that had been planted at the base of his neck that was controlling his mind.

Gwen helped while Gaius removed the snake. They thought he was cured, but then Merlin tried to kill Arthur again by putting acid in his bath water. The snake had grown back.

Gaius knew the only way Merlin would be freed is if he killed the mother beast. He and Gwen put the snake in his neck to sleep, and Merlin went on a mission to kill the fomorroh in Morgana’s hut.

Gwen had called on George again and again, and each time he had been there to take care of Arthur. By the time Merlin was freed from the enchantment and was able to return back to Camelot, he had been gone at least a day and a half.

Merlin sat backwards in a chair in the infirmary as Gaius numbed him for surgery. “This is becoming something of a habit,” Gaius joked as he pulled the dead snake-head from Merlin’s neck.

Merlin responded with a pained chuckle. “I hope not.”

“Don’t worry,” Gaius said, grasping Merlin’s shoulder as he turned back to meet his gaze. “It cannot grow back.”

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck in relief as the door to the infirmary clicked open and Gwen entered.

“Merlin.” She somewhat sang out. Merlin smiled back at her. “You’re back.” She walked closer. “Dare I look?” she said, scrunching her face.

“Oh, it’s…don’t worry, it’s completely gone. I’ve no desire to kill Arthur,” Merlin said.

She let out a breath and patted him on the back. “That’s great news.” Then she stepped back, clasping her hands together. “Although, I’m afraid right now he does want to kill you.”

Merlin made a pained noise at the back of his throat. “I’m confused. Gaius, did you tell him I was in the tavern again?”

Gaius looked up from washing his hands. “It wasn’t me.”

“It was Agravaine,” Gwen supplied.

Merlin threw his hand up and slapped his knee. “Why would he do that? The man hates me; I know it.”

“I don’t know, but George heard it.”

“George?” Merlin’s forehead creased. He thought he heard of a new servant called by that name.

“You don’t remember him,” Gaius said. “Funny, because he really knows you.”

Merlin shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “But why…”

Gwen interrupted his thought. “Merlin, I’m sorry to rush you, but you probably should get back to Arthur.”

Two Whole Days in the Tavern

George was returning from taking Arthur’s soiled clothing to the launderers when he heard voices behind Arthur’s chamber door.

“Two whole days in the tavern,” he heard Arthur say. Merlin must have returned to work.

“I’m not quite sure it was that long,” Merlin said.

No, it was a lie, George thought. He hadn’t been in the tavern. Why wouldn’t Merlin tell him that?

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t get rid of you on the spot.” The king was going to fire Merlin? George couldn’t let this happen.

He opened the door quietly as Merlin said, “Because you’d have no one to polish your armor, make you breakfast, organize your clothes.” George cocked his head sideways wondering why Merlin didn’t seem to remember meeting him in the hallway when he was going to help draw the king’s bath.

But he didn’t get to think of an answer to that because Arthur answered, “Ah, well, that’s where you’re wrong. George!”

“Merlin, meet George.” Arthur waved a hand in his direction. George stepped forward. His mouth almost dropped as Arthur began to sing his praises. “George is, perhaps, the most efficient servant I’ve ever seen. He’ll be spending the rest of the week teaching you.”

‘I will?’ George thought.

Merlin echoed his thoughts. “Teaching me?”

“If you wish to remain in my service.”
Oh. He was really going to fire Merlin. George had to think of something quick to save this man’s job. That’s when he blurted the first thing that came to his brain. “We will start in the armory. Lesson one is my favorite. Polishing.”

Two Whole Days of Training

Over the next two days, George was absolutely serious about Merlin’s rehabilitation as a servant. He never thought he’d see the day that he’d train a man he’d only admired from afar.

George couldn’t understand what the king’s problem with Merlin was because Merlin really knew his job. He only guessed it must have been his visit to the tavern, even though Agravaine made it all up. George wondered if he shouldn’t have set the record straight, but he knew better than to accuse one of the royal family of wrongdoing.

At one point he asked Merlin if he remembered him before drawing the king’s bath that day. Merlin just told him that he must have been sicker than he thought. George supposed that could be possible, to forget something that happened when you were delirious with sickness.

George and Merlin got a lot of confused looks from the servants in the halls, from the steward, and even from Gwen, but when they heard that Arthur had commanded the training, no one asked questions. They just left them to it.

It was in one of those moments that everybody was minding their own business that Merlin got away from George. They were in the armory, polishing, when some of the knights came in.

“Good job out there today, men,” Leon was saying as they entered.

“Well, except when Percival nearly knocked my head off,” Elyan grumbled good-naturedly, punching Percival in the bicep.

Percival winced and rubbed his arm, shouldering Elyan to the side. Elyan collided with Gwaine who caught him, crooking an elbow around Elyan’s head and rubbing it. “As if there’s anything in there to damage,” he said with a grin.

Elyan pushed Gwaine away with a mock-insulted laugh. “Shut up, Gwaine. As if you have room to talk.” Gwaine gave him a touché tip of his finger off his eyebrow.

They were all laughing when Merlin caught the attention of Gwaine. He motioned with widened eyes toward the door of the armory. “Merlin!” Gwaine took the hint. “Come with me for a minute. I have something to show you.”

Merlin blinked at George. George nodded his dismissal and the two men left.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Merlin nearly knocked Gwaine into the wall. “George is about to drive me crazy!” he hissed. “Please, Gwaine, you have to help me.”

“Woah, woah. Merlin. What are you talking about?” Gwaine waved a hand.

“I can’t get away from him. Arthur has assigned him to train me.”

Gwaine pulled back in an amused smirk. “I was wondering…”

“It’s not funny!” Merlin interrupted. “He never cracks– a smile, nothing. He is the most boring servant I’ve ever met.”

Gwaine stroked his chin with a faltering smile. “And you want me to help, how?”

“Just…find another job for him to do, request his services, take him to the tavern, I don’t really care. I can do the job by myself. I’ll take care of Arthur the rest of the day. I just need a break.”

George

George was shocked, to say the least, when the knights asked him to join them at the tavern. He didn’t object, though, because after two whole days of training Merlin, he needed a break.

When Gwaine saw Merlin again, he seemed a lot less stressed than before. “Merlin, thanks for suggesting George go to the tavern with us. He is one of the funniest guys I ever met!”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open. He was thinking, ‘George is funny?’, but what came out his mouth was, “You took George to the tavern?”

Gwaine slapped Merlin’s shoulder with a big grin, swinging his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, he has the funniest jokes about brass!” Merlin raised his chin with an unsure smile.

“Merlin!” Arthur called from down the hall. He sounded perturbed.

Merlin raised a finger. “I need to go.” He started sprinting towards Arthur.

Arthur caught up to him. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over this castle for you! Imagine my surprise when I go to the infirmary to find you, and who should I see there but George—who went to the tavern—getting a… a remedy from Gaius!”

Merlin walked beside Arthur, marching in time to Arthur’s waving finger and rant.

“George—dependable, competent George—did not report to work,” Arthur said. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you…”

The last thing Gwaine heard was the drawled out “Merlin” as the two went down the Griffin staircase.