Chapter Text
It was very early in their association that Arthur began to learn that his idiotic, bumbling, incompetent, ill-bred, and insubordinate manservant actually had some hidden depths to him.
The first clue into the many facets of Merlin came on a day Arthur was actually running late himself for once. His training session had run a little long, as he'd been teaching a newer knight some complicated footwork, and he'd had to rush to his chambers to have a quick wash in the basin before getting dressed for a council session.
Merlin, in a vast improvement from his first few days, not only got Arthur out of his armor quickly, but already had a basin of hot water ready, and a fresh set of clothes. Arthur was honestly relieved enough to not say anything when Merlin promptly dropped his armor all over the floor. He just sighed pointedly, ignoring his manservant's grimace.
Running a wet hand through his hair, he grabbed the nearby towel and started drying himself off as quickly as he could. “Merlin, leave it for a moment. I need the recent count of the grain reserves. It's on my desk.”
As Merlin nodded and darted across the room, Arthur mentally cast about in his memory for where he'd put it. Had it been on the right side, or the left? Was it under the patrol reports? He didn't have time for Merlin to bring him everything--
“Here you go.”
Arthur blinked, bewildered, at the parchment held before him.
The correct parchment.
It took him a moment, but finally he looked at Merlin. “You can read?”
Merlin's brow furrowed. “Of course I can read. I'm pretty good at maths, as well. Is . . . that a problem?”
Arthur made sure, one last time, that his hands were completely dry before taking the document. “Er . . . no. I just . . . have never had a servant who could read before. Most peasants can't.'
The younger man made a face. “I would have thought things would be different in a big place like Camelot.”
Shrugging, Arthur set the parchment aside, and allowed Merlin to pull a red tunic over his head. “Most of Camelot's citizens are poor, and don't have time to learn. There have been some attempts to educate the children, but--”
“But most of them have to help their families as soon as they are able. The smarter ones get apprenticed and learn from their masters, but the rest are content with just enough writing and numbers to not get cheated at market.”
Arthur stared at Merlin. “. . . Just so. How did you . . . ?”
Merlin smiled up as he buckled Arthur's belt. “My mother taught me. A long time ago, she used to be one of Gaius' apprentices, til her mother got sick and she moved back home to Ealdor. We didn't have many books, and those were all on herbs, but there's plenty of dirt and sticks, and she usually scraped together enough coin for parchment to practice on. She tried to teach the other villagers too, but. Well. Just like here, I guess. Too busy. Too much to do. Not enough interest.”
“But you did?”
Merlin's hands stilled for a moment on his shirt laces. “I've always been . . . different. And I never got along with most of the people back home, so I spent a lot of time on my own. And we may not have story books, but Mother could remember the ones she'd read, and she'd tell me the stories. It was a good way to . . . forget, I suppose. For a little while.” He huffed. “I suppose that seems foolish.”
“No,” Arthur blurted. He thought back to when he had been much younger, with fewer demands on his time. Geoffrey had indulged him shamefully on his fascination for adventure stories, and even now, when he had to fetch some dusty old tome on genealogy or warfare or something for his duties, the old man would quirk a smile at him, and sigh over the dwindling hours of leisure for a young prince.
Merlin nudged him out of his thoughts, holding out Arthur's jacket. He slid his arms in, letting Merlin fiddle with the collar and cuffs. Merlin really acted more like a nursemaid than a proper servant, but if Arthur was honest with himself, he rather enjoyed the fussing. “So, if you grew up reading nothing but books on herbs, why does Gaius constantly bemoan your lack of skill as a healer?”
The younger man snorted, “They were there, yes, but that doesn't mean I read them all that often. You'll notice that he doesn't think twice about sending me on gathering expeditions.”
“You just looked at the pictures, didn't you.”
“Well, when the text underneath is all about how to use the pretty flower to combat explosive dia--”
“All right, your point is taken,” Arthur jumped in, not wanting to think about it. Holding up the parchment, he jerked his head to indicate the rest of the room. “I should be back in an hour or two. I expect dinner to be hot this time and this place had better be spotless. Understood?”
Merlin gave him a blinding grin. “Yes, sir.”
Moving towards the door, Arthur paused one last time on the threshold. “And Merlin?”
He glanced up from the floor where he'd bent to mop up the water Arthur had dripped. “Yes?”
“Tell Geoffrey in the library that I authorized you to borrow any book you like.” And he left before he could see Merlin's reaction.
Not that he wanted to, anyway.