Chapter Text
The first time it happened Merlin almost had a heart attack, which would have been highly embarrassing considering that he was an immortal being.
It was a little past noon and thanks to a very wise use of his gifts, the seemingly unending list of chores that Arthur had forced upon him in the morning was already done and forgotten. Which was a good thing because the sun was bright that day and after an exhausting week… month… year, really, he was looking forward a nice little nap in the late summer breeze.
Spreading himself onto one of the deserted green meadows surrounding the castle, he blissfully crossed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, letting a satisfied smile appear on his face. But his peace didn’t last long, for he only got enough time to start drifting off before a well-known loud voice startled him awake.
"Tell me Merlin, is it too much to ask of you to at least behave in a way that’ll allow the people to believe that you are not paid to do nothing? They are affording taxes so you can sit on this lazy backside of yours. Weren’t you supposed to muck the stables?"
Barely opening an eye to cast a dark look at His Royal Pain In The Arse, he mumbled.
"’t’s done."
That was so annoying, the way he always seemed to be lurking around waiting for an opportunity to disturb his hard-won free time. He wasn’t deserving this.
"Shouldn’t you be busying yourself polishing my armour then?"
"Done too."
"Really?" The tone was now half unbelieving, half mocking. "Are you suffering from a concussion due to a fall down Camelot’s stairs in your way back from the tavern yesterday? Because the mere idea of you achieving one of the tasks you’ve been assigned to before the late afternoon is already highly inconceivable, so two being done before the sun even started to settle is the closest thing of a miracle I’ve ever heard of."
"Haha. Very funny Arthur. Now I understand why you never hired a court jester, no one could fill this role better than you, no matter how hard they would try." Merlin’s eyes – that he had closed once again – opened suddenly while he jerked upright, rubbing his ribs with a murderous look on his face. "Oi! Did you just kick me?"
"I don’t know, were you lounging in the meadow instead of doing your chores?"
"I’ve done my chores you arse! And even if I hadn’t, it wouldn’t give you the right to hit me and get away with it!"
"I’m the king Merlin, I could kill you and get away with it." Ignoring the very unimpressed snort coming from the man still sitting at his feet he added, "but since you’ve done everything already, you won’t mind me checking the cleanliness of my room, right?"
"Not at all."
"Nor looking at the state of the clothes you were supposed to wash and mend?"
"Do as you wish, sire."
"And you’d still be fine about me going to the armoury to make sure you’ve made every knight’s breastplate shine like they were all new?"
"If that’s what will bring us both peace, my lord."
At this point Merlin was clearly pissed off, so getting under Arthur’s skin in return felt like a sweet revenge. The best part being that they both knew what game he was playing, making his success even more satisfying for him and unnerving for the prat.
"That’s it, you’re lying. You can’t possibly have done it all already. Either you haven’t done anything, or you’ve been using magic in the very heart of this kingdom to indulge your sloth."
This made him jump to his feet, eyes going wide for a second before he started to speak faster and faster, in what could only be described as a fully panicked rant.
"Magic? Who? Me? Haha. No. Okay you know what, you’re right. You win. I lied! Don’t go to your chambers, they’re in a very awful state of… mud and… dirt and… and they stink! Yes, it stinks in there because you always stink after training with your knights, and you did train them yesterday and you clearly haven’t bathed since and… the odour is terrible. But hey, you got me! I was bluffing. Your room is definitively not clean and I don’t want to end up killed for treason because you would have chocked to death on your own smell so… don’t come remotely close to your very messy chambers, because I’ve got a lot of work to do back there, it’ll take me hours really so… see you later!"
And then he all but flew to the lower town, leaving Arthur alone in the field without getting a chance to defend himself. Looking around to make sure that there was no witness, the mighty Once and Future King ducked his head to his left shoulder and sniffed.
Oh c’mon! Why did he keep listening to this dollophead?
.
…
The second time it happened, three weeks had passed. By then, Merlin had mostly convinced himself that The Incident was nothing but a bad dream.
It was a very ordinary evening, Arthur was eating at his table while Merlin was busying himself by the hearth when it started all over again. Taking a full spoon of the stew that had been brought to him, he spat it out immediately with no dignity or whatsoever and a disgusted grunt.
"What in the name of Camelot is this monstrosity?"
A frowning look was sent in his general direction at the outburst before the head turned back towards the embers.
"That’s the stew made with the wild boar you struggled to find and kill, sire."
"I didn’t 'struggled' to kill it", he snapped back, all but forgetting about the awful taste of his meal in his willingness to defend his clearly attacked honour, "you made it almost impossible to hunt down with your clumsiness, and then managed to be in the sight line of the five knights that where there — me included — when we finally cornered it. It is truly a wonder that you survived that long, since your uselessness is only challenged by your habit of being in the way of those who know what they’re doing!"
"You’re being unnecessarily rude again." He calmly answered in a very unbothered tone, not even trying to pretend to care about the criticisms.
"I certainly am not," he started to counter back, before remembering that it wasn’t the subject in the first place. "I don’t care about your fragile ego Merlin, what I care about is to know why this supposedly royal meal tastes as bad as your own cooking."
This at least made him look back for real. Still not for the good reasons, though.
"Hey! If you dislike my cooking this much, I suggest that you stop forcing me to do it every time you drag me to your latest stupid quest of the week and start to order Elyan or Gwaine to do it instead!"
"Keep it with this tone, Merlin, and I’ll order you to spend the week in the stocks to teach you some manners!"
"Oh come on, as if I would let you order me around! I don’t take commands Arthur, I only listen to some of your requests — that aren’t made very nicely by the way — that I then decide to take upon me to help you out; without even waiting for a thanks because I’m that good of a friend."
He was now standing up right — staring at him with his arms crossed and a fighting expression on his features— and Arthur barely stopped himself from pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. If defying respect and authority was a sport recognised in tournaments, it would take less than a minute for Merlin to become the newest, unbeatable, champion of the five kingdoms. The best thing to do when he was like this was to surrender.
"Whatever, Merlin, I don’t have time for this. What I want to know is why it tastes so bitter. It has no reason to and it’s completely inedible!"
But there was still a fighting sparkle in his manservant’s eyes, and he knew that he should brace himself for a retorted comeback. Maybe he shouldn’t have made him hold the training target during more than two hours this morning, because he was clearly still angry at him.
"Well maybe you’ve been cursed and now all your food will taste as awful as you are as a person. If it’s the case, I’m sorry to inform you that you’ll die of starvation because you are never going to be able to eat ever again."
"Yeah right, from where I stand you’re the prime suspect in the curse casting enquiry then."
Merlin froze two seconds before answering.
"That’s ridiculous," his voice was as loud as before, but it had suddenly lost most of its bite. "If I wanted to get rid of you, I would simply poison your food with one of the deadly plants Gaius keeps in his chambers. This way I wouldn’t have to waste numerous meals that normal people can’t afford on Your Royal Pratness. See, no magic required."
With this, he took the plate and went straight to the door, not even letting enough time for Arthur to comment on how many thoughts he seemed to have put into the idea.
.
…
The third time, Merlin was still unprepared. To be honest, it was hard to be prepared for anything while reordering the already very shiny silverware from the less bright to the more 'mirror-like' in Arthur’s chambers. A task that was apparently a matter of state.
So here he was, minding his own business — well, sort of at least — when the King entered the room. He was noticeably holding a red cloak while wearing another one, a rare sight since he generally needed Merlin to carry around everything for him, even the lightest items he bought on the lower town’s market.
"When I went to the seamstress to have the crest on my tunic fixed because it had been teared during training, I didn’t expect to come back with a cloak as well. But as it turned out, she still had the one I asked you to go fetch two months ago."
Far from looking ashamed for his carelessness, Merlin only lightly shrugged.
"Well, you didn’t really miss it, did you? You would have noticed it wasn’t back if that was the case."
"Don’t push your luck Merlin, the only reason why I won’t punish you for this foolish behaviour is because she praised your work on it." He waited from him to look up in confusion before elaborating. "Yes, believe that I was as surprised as you are. You told her about another rip you mended yourself when you brought it, so she looked it up and she said she had never seen such a steady needlework during her career. Your points are seemingly so regular that 'magic must be at work here'." Arthur went behind the folding screen, oblivious of the sudden wariness in the other man posture. "Of course, since you’re so good at it you are now officially in charge of all the sewing that I could require. To be honest, even if your competence in any useful field is the most unexpected discovery of the decade, it is quite good news. This lady… the fact that I’m the king doesn’t keep her from getting handsy. If she wasn’t almost as old as Gaius, I would have sent her in the dungeons for the night to teach her a lesson."
Merlin let a sigh escape him at the opportunity left for a change of subject. No running away needed this time, even if there was indeed magic involved. Instead of leaving the room, he snorted.
"Yes, because spending a night in jail is making wonders on prisoners’ behaviour, that’s well known."
"Just because you are unredeemable doesn’t mean that it’s everyone’s case. This may cause you some sort of shock, but there are people who learn from their mistakes."
"Really?" He answered with a smile in his voice, eyes shining with mischief. "That’s a shame I never met someone like that, then. It must be wonderful, to be surrounded by wise and intelligent men."
A pillow hit his head.
.
…
The fourth time, it almost didn’t surprise him. Still, it didn’t stop him from stuttering when it came to answer the fake-accusation.
If he was honest with himself, he knew that he may have been a bit irresponsible in his use of magic, but it was a cold autumn, they were patrolling far east in the forest and it had rained for weeks. All the wood he had found was soaked and even the moss wouldn’t catch fire. It was relatively early though and the knights were yet to return to the campsite, still busy making sure that no threat was lurking around in the obscurity, looking for some tasty human snack. After five full minutes spent trying without success to get a flame out of the sparks, he had checked that his surroundings were free of any potential witness before casting a little drying spell. By the time they came back, an impressive bonfire was heating up the humid atmosphere.
Arthur hadn’t comment on it at the time, but once everyone else was asleep he had broken the silence to tell Merlin:
"I hate to recognise it, but this blaze of yours is quite a success. I wonder how you managed to do it… With how wet everything is, it should have been impossible to light anything up. Have you made a deal with some old forest god of sort to avoid spending a cold night outside? That sounds dumb enough to be something you could do."
"…Thanks a lot. But I didn’t."
"Hmm," he pushed, "a Druid then? Or a leprechaun? Unless you did it yourself?"
"W-what?" He stammered. "No. Of course not. How could I…? In fact, it’s just. It’s pretty silly actually. Just like me you could say. I mean. I knew it was going to be awful to patrol with this weather so… I… filled my saddlebag with logs from your chambers. That’s, I did that. That’s it. That’s how I´ve been able to start this fire."
"Hmmm. I hope you still have some then, they come in handy. It doesn’t mean I’ll share my food with you, though. If you value your warmth more than your stomach, then so be it." He let the silence stretch for a bit before adding, "night, Merlin," ending the conversation.
The next day, he claimed to have lost most of his appetite due to the smell of mud attached to his manservant from when he’d tripped on a root and fell face first on a puddle in the morning. He slid his plate in his direction wordlessly. None of them commented on the fact that his sudden distaste for eating led him to give away half of his portion.
.
…
The fifth time startled him so much that he temporarily lost his ability to talk, which was a very disturbing occurrence in itself. In his defence, he hadn’t done anything careless this time, or, well, not at this exact moment.
It was the late afternoon and he was oiling the round table. The room was empty except for him and Arthur, who was sitting on his throne – trying and failing to concentrate on a report about the number of wheat fields all over the kingdom and their expected yield for the next year. When he suddenly spoke loudly, Merlin barely managed to supress a little jump.
"Leon came to me after our last mishap with bandits, told me he couldn’t believe I didn’t fell from my horse when their leader almost knocked me out of it with his shield. Apparently, he thought I was about to rip my skull open on the rocks I would have fell on."
"…Ha?"
"Yes. You see, it’s interesting because I could have sworn that I had begun to fall too, before an invisible force righted me up in the saddle. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary back then?"
Merlin went as tense as his tone was guarded.
"No, my lord, nothing at all."
"I should have guessed." He hummed pensively, then added, "I must have dreamt it, I am a particularly skilled rider after all. And anyway, why would anyone with magic help me, huh?"
What in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to do with that?
"That’s a question I have no answer to, sire."
"Of course you don’t, Merlin," he exclaimed while roughly clapping his back, voice booming again in the room. "Come on, I’ve spent enough time in here for today and I fancy a walk in the citadel. You understand of course that I need you to stay close. When you’re the king you sometimes have to throw someone in front of the knifes of the latest assassin, and who knows, maybe there’s one waiting for me in the gardens!" The idea seemed to cheer him up far too much to his friend’s taste. "It’s been two weeks since the last attempted murder on my person, it’s starting to become boring."
Merlin – still shaken but mostly back at trying to hold his tongue – simply followed his lead in silence.
Two weeks! What a witless idiot! More like two days! Didn’t he noticed the Saxon dagger hidden in the guard’s sleeve when he dropped dead in front of him, struck by a convenient heart attack?
.
…
The sixth time, he simply brushed it off. Their discussion — that he should stop calling that since it was mostly a monologue from Arthur — about his last second saving was still fresh in his mind and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to worry as much as he should ever since. He hadn’t been able to forget either.
Because he had considered it for what it was, even if just for a second. Arthur had thought it was magic, and he had thought it was magic used for him. Not as a threat, but as a helpful hand stretched in his direction. It had sent Merlin way back, to a time where he almost hoped that his friend would somehow find out who he truly was. It was a dangerous line to flirt with, but he was keeping it under control. No real hope, only the bittersweet memory of having been acknowledged for an instant.
Still, the idea of being exposed sounded a bit less terrifying now.
That’s probably why he didn’t looked up from the two beetles fighting at the foot of Arthur’s dining table when the man stormed inside his chambers in a dark mood. He seemed unreasonably angry, and started almost immediately to rant about how there was 'no way that the obnoxious lady from the neighbour kingdom – who hated everyone! – could speak so highly of him of all people. It had to be sorcery.'
No, Merlin didn’t bother addressing the fake accusation. He only pointed out that she had been nothing but kind to him since her arrival and that maybe – just maybe – she was harsh with Arthur because he was the one who’d started to act like an arse the second she showed up. Which obviously meant that he had been nothing but his usual self.
That owned him a boot expertly aimed at his head making him duck to avoid a black eye.
"You know that you don’t have to prove me right, you prat?"
The other one was launched in the general direction of his stomach and he was forced to throw himself to the floor, taking cover behind the four-poster bed. But hey! on the bright side, the sorcery subject was now all but forgotten…
.
…
The seventh time he joked back, when Arthur called him out for using magic. Probably because he hadn’t been for once. As if having enough reflexes to catch a cup mid-fall was so unbelievable! He was perfectly able to react promptly, even if His Highness of Dolts couldn’t accept this very simple fact as a truth! Instead, he had to be dramatic about it and to cross the whole room, taking hold of Merlin’s right wrist and pulling up his sleeve without saying a word. He was going for his left arm as well when he moved backward, putting himself out of reach.
"What is wrong with you?!"
"You stopped the cup from falling off the table. Since you never shown anything but gawkiness since your very first day at my service, I’m looking for your druidic mark now."
Two months ago, this would have sent him in some sort of mortifyingly panicked verbal loop. Now though, is first reaction was to snap back.
"As if I would be stupid enough to have it drawn somewhere you could see!"
That’s when he realised that he had just went with Arthur’s allegation of him having magic and he snapped his mouth shut, cheeks heating alarmingly fast. But the King was too busy giving him a once-over with a thoughtful expression to notice his sudden agitation.
"You know Merlin, I’ve seen you in various states of undress during all the campaigns we’ve been through. I can’t think of a lot of places that would meet such a requirement." His eyes went down again, and he deliberately took all his time to stare pointedly at the area he was thinking of before meeting his gaze once more and holding it. "I can only hope that you were referring to your hipbone area. Anything else would be of terrible taste, even for you."
A little beheading didn’t sound so awful after all, its greatest advantage being to definitively stop his stupid mouth from talking. Maybe he should come clean right now and let Arthur put him out of his misery with the very sword he gifted him. It seemed to be a death a little more dignified than catching fire from his own burning face.
"Come on, don’t be such a prude! And he’s blushing like a virgin now!" He addressed the empty room like he was commenting the events in real time for a crowd of already laughing people, then cocked his head in Merlin’s direction and asked with fake concern, "is it because you are the one in charge of by baths as well? Because I’m sure there is nothing to be ashamed of. I know that I am very manly, but it doesn’t mean that you—"
"Oh in the name of— will you shut up! Just, stop talking! You’re… unbelievable. A nightmare! A living menace! I’m out of here. You can do whatever you want with your tray once you’ll be done eating because I’m taking the night off. And by the way, the only big thing you’ve ever been 'gifted' with is your ego."
He didn’t lose any time before escaping the room. One second later, the very characteristic sound of a cup crashing on the other side of the door reached him. Ignoring the interrogative looks on the guards’ faces, he let his head fall back against the grainy wood. Next time, he will not bother saving it in the first place.
.
…
The eighth time was quite an outright accusation, but it was also a heat of the moment comment that he didn’t bring back later, so it was kind of alright.
They were on a hunting trip – which meant that he was as always doing his best to scare away the poor animals living in a three miles radius – when he felt a powerful wave of magic. His head snapped up in alert, and when he realised from where it was coming from he barely had the time to yell at Percival to step back before the vines started to dart in his friend’s direction, aiming for his neck as well as the horse’s one. Arthur — who was for once riding at the back — rushed in their direction only to see the plants promptly retreating in front of his knights’ swords. He stopped by his manservant’s side just long enough to say mid-voice.
"One of your funny feelings again, Merlin? It’s interesting how they always seem to make themselves known when there’s a magical threat close by."
And with that he prompted his horse to come closer to the now unmoving strangling greenery.
Four dangerous tries later — including two more useless swordfights, an attempt to bribe the ropes into letting them pass with cheese and an unsuccessful try at unrooting the plants — they were running out of options and decided to give a shot at burning the bushes down. Surprisingly enough it worked, but by the time they ensured that the whole forest wouldn’t go up in flames it was already sunset, so they set up the camp for the night not far from the remnants of their unusual opponent.
Half the meal ended up spent with Gwaine telling them stories from his life of debauchery in crude details, before Elyan decided that he’d had enough and stuffed his mouth with so much bread that he choked on it. The mood stayed light all the evening, everyone enjoying the genuine camaraderie that was always there when it was just them. Arthur looked at ease, unbothered by the afternoon’s strange meeting with the killer ropes.
A soft smile was playing at his lips while he allowed himself to simply be, watching in silence the shenanigans unfolding before him. He didn’t lose it when he caught Merlin staring, simply turning it into a grimace for an instant as a silent statement on the obviously lost wrestling match Gwaine was having against Percival.
The warlock allowed himself to relax at the sight. No thoughts on 'funny feelings' anymore, it was safe to enjoy the company.
.
…
The ninth time he freaked out again. To be fair, it had been a close call.
The spring was taking it sweet time coming back, and most of the countryside’s lakes had been frozen for so long that the men couldn’t break enough of the ice to be able to fish. People were getting hungry, and Camelot hadn’t enough stocks to meet everyone’s needs. It was what had decided Arthur to go towards his subjects, for he believed that it was his duty to inform them that they’d have to do as best as they could, without counting on too much help. Obviously, Merlin’s presence had been required for this journey and that’s how he’d ended up alone by a lakeside, without much of a choice left. Children were starving, he could discreetly provide relief, end of story.
Or it should have been, at least.
But Arthur was closer than he thought and when he heard his approach, things went a bit out of hand. Instead of slowly heating up the lake just enough to allow people to break through the ice once again, his magic used his sudden inattention to surge even more forward; and in less than three seconds, the lake was back to a very liquid state. He barely had an instant to stare in horror at what he’d done before the King emerged from the forest right in front of him. His bewildered look went from the now peacefully undulating water to Merlin’s hand still under it, then to his very guilty, very panicked, face, and he frowned. The warlock jumped back to his feet in utter panic and hid his arm behind his back like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"That’s not what you think! That’s not me! I know you always blame me for everything but that’s not me!" He wished he had enough self-control to shut up for once, but that was simply too much to ask for. "I don’t know what happened, I was there, watching the lake and then poof! it- it- it was like that." He finished lamely.
The silence accompanied by two raised eyebrows that answered him couldn’t have been louder. And then.
"Why on earth would have I accused you of… of what exactly? What is this?"
"…a lake?" He tried a bit shyly.
"I can see that it’s a lake, Merlin, the question is, how can it be like this when it was completely frozen ten minutes ago?"
"Maybe the sun is warmer than expected? Or the ice wasn’t as thick as we thought?"
"Come on, even you can’t be such a… what is the term you seem to favour already? Ah yes, such a clotpole! We both know that it has to be magic, there’s no other explanation that would make sense. Did you see something?"
Merlin shook his head. Arthur sighed.
"Why did I even bother to ask. I guess that will remain a mystery then."
"Sire?" He asked, confused.
"This is a rude winter, Merlin! Thanks to you I don’t have the beginning of a lead and starting a wild goose chase now won’t do any good to the starving population. Moreover, I don’t think that they would welcome my inquiries with any good will, since this ill-timed sorcerer has made their life five times easier when I was simply promising that better days would come for the surviving ones." He looked at the scenery before him and his shoulders almost imperceptibly dropped. "Sometimes there’s nothing to win in prying to get the truth. The one that did it obviously knew I was here, and yet he chose to act today of all days. If he wanted to come forward, he would have done it by now. Which leaves me with two options, trying to get a confession by all means necessary, or let it go." He fell briefly silent, still looking at the waters, before adding softly, "we both know too well what my father would have done, but I’m not the ruler he was. What would I do with this man anyway, whose sole crime that I know of is to have provided food to those in need. The pyre hardly sounds like an appropriate recompense for such a service."
"I don’t— I’m not sure I’m following, Arthur. It was magic — you said it yourself — and magic is outlawed in Camelot. Isn’t it enough of a reason to punish anyone practicing it?"
He didn’t reply immediately, walking to the lakeside instead as if it held all the answers. Finally, he turned his head to look back at his friend.
"I don’t know, Merlin. Do you think it is enough of a reason to kill someone that hasn’t caused any harm on sight?"
"My… opinion hardly matters on the subject, sire. This is your kingdom."
That fortunately seemed to shake Arthur out of the open-hearted moment he had chosen to have at what felt like the worst possible timing ever.
"Of course, and it’s not like you could form any meaningful thought on anything anyway." He shoved him roughly in the forest’s direction. "Come on, we have knights that must be made aware that we are not staying any longer. It’s been a long week and a half, I think everyone will be glad to go back to the castle."
The castle. Good idea. Normalcy was all Merlin could hope for after this highly confusing conversation. Or, well, this and a nice night of sleep in the warm bed waiting for him in Gaius’ chambers. The safer course of action at this point definitively was to drop the subject and walk in silence. And yet he couldn’t help but wonder…
"Why are you so sure it’s a man? Could be a woman too."
Arthur opened his mouth to answer, then casted him a side glance and seemed to reconsider.
"You know what? I give you this point Merlin. The more I think of it, the more it sounds about right. This whole demonstration? It reminds me a lot of those maidens trying to convince a good party to marry them without being too forward. They always end up doing something incredibly conspicuous before shying away and pretending that they didn’t want the object of their affections to notice. Maybe that’s what happened here today, maybe the person responsible for this wants to wed me. "
"Pfff you wish!" He answered in an offended rush before realising how weird his reaction must have looked like. He quickly added, "as if someone with enough brain to do something like that would bother with a simpleton like you! As if anyone with half a brain could end up infatuated with you! That’s utter nonsense."
"That’s it, we need to return to Camelot right now because I warned you about never calling me a simpleton again and I can’t wait to throw you in the dungeons for this."
"Yes that’s it Arthur, keep talking I’m listening."
When they finally reached the castle, hours of bickering later, even Gwaine had grown bored of their antics. But this interminable ride was still probably worth it, for it allowed them all to sleep in their own bed when the night came.
.
…
The tenth time, he was the one who suggested he’d used magic. He was back at trying to enjoy the meadow outside the castle like he had been months ago, which was the reason why it didn’t surprise him in the slightest when a shadow suddenly covered his face. He barely repressed a sigh.
"Come on let’s not start this all over again," he groaned, "it’s not funny when it has already been done once."
When no answer came, he carefully opened an eye, worrying about the meaning of this uncommon silent treatment. Unexpectedly enough, the King was lowering himself to the ground.
"I’m afraid I have to disagree. Bullying you is always funny, no matter what. However, I must admit that this sun warmed patch of grass is very appealing after those last few months." He took the time to fully stretch and make himself comfortable before turning his head towards Merlin, mirroring the other man’s position in doing so.
"Tell me, what’s your excuse to be lazy today? Have you decided on your own to cut your chores by half so you could take a little nap? Or maybe you’re planning on doing them when you’ll feel more like it?"
Their surroundings were peaceful, besides him — despite his quiet teasing — Arthur was looking more serene than he had been in a very long time. That’s maybe what made him bold.
"The answer is a secret third option. One that you suggested last time we were here, actually. I used magic." And it felt so freeing to tell him those words, even if they were meant to be understood as a joke. He took a second to bath into the feeling before continuing his speech. "But don’t think it was easy, I had to do many weird things to get this little moment of peace. First, I had to go fetch a rock at the bottom of the Lake of Avalon at the darkest of the night, during a thunderstorm, while wearing this stupid ceremonial hat of yours, you know the one you loved so much. I am deeply sorry to have to let you know that it is now beyond repair."
"That’s quite alright, I’ll order a new one even more stunning especially for you first thing tomorrow morning," he snorted.
"That’s very nice of you. So, where was I? Ah yes, the rock. I had to reduce the whole thing into dust, which hasn’t been as easy as you could think since I took quite a big stone to begin with. My bad really, I didn’t read the whole recipe before starting the process. This being said, if the Stable Boy comes forward claiming that one of his hammers is missing don’t bother looking for it, it has known better days."
"Everything you’ve ever touched has known better days."
"Once it has been done," Merlin kept going as if he hadn’t been interrupted, "I used Gaius physician’s thingy to turn this hardly obtained powder into a magical alcohol that would grant me my wildest wishes. I drank it this morning, and poof, all the chores were done."
"Hmhmm. So me lying next to you is something you wanted so badly that this potion of yours made it happen?"
"Oh no. That should be the unpleasing side effect. When the beverage properties wear off, your worst nightmare manifests itself as a punishment for pushing your luck." He flashed him a playful grin. "I guess it was worth it, though. After all I have to deal with you on a daily basis anyway."
He was fully expecting the blow on his ribs this time. He countered with a failed attack of his own and it didn’t take long before they ended up rolling on the grass while giving in a boyish fight. Not dignified and certainly not as skilled as it should have been, but speaking of easy company and long shared complicity.
All things considered, maybe this new habit of making fun of magic wasn’t as bad as it seemed.