Chapter Text
Arthur had yet to see Merlin smile in three days and it was driving him mad. He had tried everything to coax a smile from his usually bubbly, overly sun-shiny, absolutely mesmerizing manservant. And he meant that in a completely only-friends sort of way.
It was totally normal to miss your friend’s smile or the way their laugh could light up a room.
Yet nothing that Arthur tried had worked. He’d gotten no more than an eye roll when he purposely dressed himself wrong for Merlin’s amusement. He had received a breathy sigh when he attempted their normal teasing banter. Merlin didn’t even respond when Arthur pointed out what Sir Tomland must have eaten for lunch as it was still incrusted on his mustache.
The situation must have been dire if Merlin couldn’t even laugh at Sir Tomland’s mustache.
Since trying to cheer Merlin up failed, Arthur did the next best thing he could think of to solve the situation. He went in search of expert advice.
Morgana however was not in the mood for his inquiries today.
“You know, I do have my own problems to deal with Arthur. I don’t always have time to solve the mysteries of the heart for you.” Morgana grumped.
Arthur raised his eyebrow. “You are usually more than happy to tell me how I’ve messed up with Merlin. You revel in it.”
A tiny smirk graced her lips. “Yes, that’s because your always so entertaining. I mean, what sort of prince worries himself so completely with the moods of his manservant.”
“The kind that has to deal with a manservant like Merlin. He’s already rubbish at his chores, and he’s even worse when he’s upset. How would you like to attend a council meeting only to find you’re wearing a shirt with a jelly stain!”
Morgana giggled but tried to remain firm against Arthur’s begging. “Just run through the checklist I gave you. If you do I’m sure you’ll find what you did to upset him.”
“I already did.” He pulled out the small envelop Arthur kept hidden from Merlin. Inside was a folded parchment with a long list of all the things Arthur routinely did without thinking that might have upset Merlin. “I have not called him any names apart from our usual nicknames for each other. I’ve not disregarded how hard he works. I’ve thanked him when he goes anything above and beyond to make my life simpler. Like when he brought me a cup of hot tea the other night when I’m working late even though I never asked for one. I’ve been careful not to assign him too many chores. I’ve listened intently to each of his stories about the other servants and villagers. I’ve not yelled at him for sneaking off to the tavern when he needs a night off, even though he never asks because I understand it is difficult for him to communicate his needs. I’ve been careful to control my strength when we’re rough housing so not to leave so much as a bruise. I’ve checked to make sure he is eating all of his meals on time, so he doesn’t get lightheaded. I’ve taken into consideration any time he’s warned me about danger because he’s usually right when it comes to my safety. I’ve even made sure I don’t unintentionally disregard his feelings and emotions just because I’m emotionally stinted.” Finally, he’d reached the last item on the list. “And I’ve been extra sure not to question him about any and all sneaky behavior he gets involved in.”
Morgana seemed to consider him for a while, like she was looking for the lie in what Arthur said. But she must have deemed him genuine, as she blew out a sigh. “I don’t know then, Arthur. If you’ve really been on your best behavior, then maybe for once he’s not upset about something you did but because of someone else.”
Someone else.
No.
That wasn’t possible.
No one in all the realm of Camelot would do anything to Merlin.
Merlin was too sweet. Everyone loved him. And even those who didn’t find him charming and captivating and… yes those were also very normal ways to describe your best friend thank you very much… would not dare to harm him.
“Well, if that’s all you need Arthur, I have my own servant to worry about. Gwen hasn’t been faring much better these last few days. I think she’s not sleeping well and I plan to fix that tonight.”
That was faaaaar too much information for Arthur. He purposely didn’t ask question of what Morgana and her maidservant got up at night.
Arthur hurried back to his chambers as darkness was already upon him. He was unsurprised to find Merlin had already completed the nightly chores by the time he arrived. Dinner had been cleared away, the clean laundry had been folded, the fire had been stoked, a warm cup of wine sat on the table, and the bed was neatly made.
Merlin bowed, fucking bowed, to Arthur as he entered. “My duties have been completed for the night, my lord. If there is anything else you desire tonight, please do not hesitate to ask.”
It was now or never. If Morgana was right and there was someone else bothering Merlin, then the best person to ask was Merlin himself.
“Merlin wait,” he called out before Merlin could reach the door.
He paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t dare turn and face Arthur. “Yes, my lord?”
Arthur hated when Merlin used those honorifics and acted all subservient. It went against his nature. He should be joking and laughing and teasing Arthur as he went about completing his chores so late that Arthur would be forced to stay awake and watch him work.
“You’ve not smiled for the last three days. Something is clearly bothering you, and I want you to know that so long as it is within my power I would do anything to help you.” Arthur’s heartfelt plea vanished into the silence between them.
When Merlin said nothing he expected his servant to simply leave or lie to Arthur claiming it was nothing.
Instead, Merlin continued to stand where he was as if frozen in decision.
So, Arthur pressed again, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I know if the past I have been an idiot, and I have done you wrong by not believing what you have to tell me. But tonight, I swear I will trust anything you see fit to share with me.”
Finally, blessedly, Merlin turned around. There were unshed tears in his eyes. “Arthur.”
Arthur didn’t hesitate. He held open his arms and Merlin fell into them. He sobbed into Arthur’s shirt like he had been holding up the weight of the world alone. “It’s my mother.”
Hunith.
Arthur felt his heart clench. Anyone who had ever met the woman who raised Merlin had met an angel in human form. Hunith was the rare kind of soul who had seen the harshest realities of this world and still chose kindness every time. She had once opened her home to Arthur, and in those few days she had become like the mother Arthur never got a chance to have. Yet his own attachment to the woman paled in comparison for how deeply Merlin cared for her.
“It’s going to be alright.” Arthur assured him. “Is she sick? I can speak to my father and arrange to escort you and Gaius to go see her.”
Merlin shook his head. “She’s not sick. If it were only that I would rush home to treat her myself. I’m afraid she’s about to lose our farm. And without it she’ll be homeless, with no way to care for herself.”
“What?” The farm Hunith lived on was small, much like those in the rest of the village. He could not imagine that she would owe so much for such a miniscule plot of land that she would be in risk of losing it.
“I got a letter from her, just a few days ago that she still owed more for the land. She’s been paying for it little by little to the lord she acquired the farm from, but she can’t keep up. I’ve had the steward who pays us servants send a portion of my salary straight to her each month to help her pay, but even that isn’t enough.”
Something about all this sounded suspicious. It felt like a painting of fall without the color, like a vital part of this story was missing.
“The letter you received. Who brought it to you?”
“The steward. He handles all such things for the palace servants.” Merlin explained.
“But you knew of this debt your mother owed before you came to Camelot and began working in the palace, correct?”
“Oh no,” Merlin said with a sniffle. “Mother hadn’t wanted to worry me before. She only asked for help with the payments when the lord began to increase them.”
Something hot built in Arthur’s stomach where the fear had once been.
“How much of your salary have you been sending to your mother since she made you aware of this debt?”
Merlin thought about it for a moment. “I used to send half, as I still needed some coin for clothes and food and the like. Only as time has gone on I’ve been forced to send nearly all of it. I keep only the bare minimum. I guess I’ll have to send it all next time. I can probably survive well enough on what I can pilfer from the kitchen or Gaius.”
“And the steward sends the money to your mother for you, you don’t send it yourself?”
“Yes.” Merlin had finally calmed down enough to stop crying. He looked up at Arthur. “Why?”
Arthur forced himself to smile. “I think I understand what is going on. I’ve heard of such debts before. There’s no reason to worry about your mother, Merlin. I will make sure the matter is handled myself first thing tomorrow.”
“Truly!” The glee and relief in Merlin’s eyes were more than worth the promise.
“Yes. I swear to you. Now, you should go get some rest. I’m sure with this hanging over your head you haven’t been sleeping well.”
Merlin gave a sheepish grin. “Not really.”
Arthur barely caught himself from leaning forward and doing something foolish like kissing Merlin’s forehead as he sent him on his way. “Away with you then. And I’ll take care of breakfast myself in the morning. Do yourself a favor and sleep in for once.”
“If you’re sure,” Merlin didn’t seem to need to be told twice.
It was better that way. Sweet, naïve, hapless Merlin didn’t need to be awake for what he planned to do come the marrow to the unfortunate soul who had decided to take advantage of his Merlin.
Wynston was certain that he would soon be the youngest steward to ever retire from Camelot. For he had discovered a perk that came with this position that none of his predecessors before had. All the money for the palace servants came directly through him.
Now there had been some foolish stewards in that past that were easily lured in by the temptation to skim coins from the servants’ wages, but not him. There were too many accountants that checked and double checked that the right amount of wages came in and out of his little office for someone not to notice. Not to mention that the servants themselves kept careful track of every penny that was owed.
No, his retirement had come not from the money itself that he was responsible for, from the other portion of his duties. He had realized every quickly as hundreds of letters from distant relatives pour into his hands where the real opportunity lay.
Many of those servants who worked in Camelot had families in the distant villages. Parents and wives and children and cousins they were estranged from, but whose handwriting he could easily copy.
While the palace kept careful track of the money that was owed to every servant, they hardly cared about what each servant did with their pay afterward. None but he kept track of the money sent to their distant relatives.
Wynston was careful not to be too greedy with what their “relatives” needed. He laid out plausible stories of unseen expenses and unknown debts. He took only what each servant could afford without losing their own homes or food, but it left him with slim pickings. He had been slow to amass the fortune he dreamed of.
At least until Merlin.
Ah, Merlin.
He was as sweet as he was gullible, and the perfect target. He didn’t have to worry about any expenses as he lived with the palace physician and ate from the palace kitchens. And his pay was no cheap change as he was servant to the prince himself.
Another year and Wynston would have more than enough to retire with no one the wiser to his plot.
A knock sounded at his door.
“Come in.” He expected it to be Gwen with her usual payment to send home to her “sick” aunt a few towns over. She had said it would take her a day to make sure that all her brother’s debts were settled before she would know how much she could send this month.
Instead, it was Prince Arthur of Camelot who opened the door.
Wynston jumped to his feet to bow to the prince. “My prince, what ever can this humble servant do for you?” He could not fathom why the prince himself would come to his office.
Arthur smiled at him, but Wynston did not feel comforted by it. “I spoke with my manservant yesterday about a debt his mother owed, and I have come to settle it myself.”
“Settle it?”
“Yes.” Arthur slowly closed the door. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this mysterious debt, would you?”
Suddenly Wynston could feel his heart pounding and sweat began to gather on the back of his neck. “Ehh…” His mind had completely abandoned him in the face of this sudden predator.
Arthur cracked the knuckles on each of his hands. The leather of his gloves strained as he did.
Wynston gulped.
Oh gods. What had he done?
It is hereby decreed that Wynston Warricke, prior steward of Camelot, be hereby decreed exiled from Camelot upon pain of death.
Prince Arthur Pendragon