Chapter Text
The castle was alight with action, maids running frantically through the stone corridors, serving boys on their hands and knees scrubbing the floors, staff cooking an ungodly amount of dishes in a sweltering kitchen. Merlin ducked expertly from the cook’s wielding spoon, grabbing an extra piece of bread as he dashed through the maze of a kitchen. He shoved the bread into his mouth, salivating as the still-warm crust crunched pleasantly under his teeth.
Holding several trays of food, Merlin swung open the heavy wooden door and began to ascend the servants' stairways towards the Royal quarters. His long, slim legs stretched up the stairs two at a time, making quick work of ascending the castle. He knocked briefly on an enormously large wooden door, and before receiving an invitation, he was swinging the door open and stepping inside the grand room. There, within the four-poster bed draped with rich silks and furs, was the Prince, Arthur Pendragon. Arthur was lying on his back, arms and legs spread across the king-sized bed. His blonde hair glowed softly in the early morning sun. He was snoring blissfully, unaware that all castle staff had been working diligently since before dawn.
For you see, today was no ordinary day in Camelot. Today was the beginning of a four-day annual celebration of the Kingdom, and King Uther had agreed to host this spectacular event within the very walls of Camelot for this season. Unfortunately for those working within the castle, this has meant long, gruelling hours of labour to prepare the finest of feasts and celebrations for nobles and royalty across the Kingdoms. Anything not up to King Uther’s exceedingly high expectations could easily land a servant in the stocks, or worse, the dungeons, with a dismissal of their duties following swiftly after.
Merlin carefully placed the heavy trays of food on the large wooden table before striding across the room and throwing open the curtains. Early morning sunlight streamed in. He unlatched the window and swung it wide, letting fresh breeze into the room. As he glanced into the courtyard below, he spotted Gwen carrying fresh flowers and walking with purpose. Most likely attending Lady Morgana this morning in preparation for the arrivals and opening ceremony in a few short hours. Merlin leaned heavily out of the window, waving wildly and shouting, “Gwen! Good morning!” Gwen turned and looked up to see Merlin waving from Arthur’s chambers window. She smiled and gave a small wave back, mouthing “Sorry, I have to hurry!” before turning and heading inside the castle.
Unfortunately, Merlin’s shouting also gained the attention of Arthur, who was startled awake by Merlin’s loud voice echoing around the courtyard and back into the bedroom. A pillow flew through the air, skimming Merlin on the side of his face, and falling out of the open window and into the courtyard below. A surprised grunt followed from an unfortunate citizen below, which was muffled by Merlin slamming the windows shut abruptly. He turned to Arthur, “Rise and shine, sleepy head, you’ve got a big day ahead of you”. Recognition crossed Arthur’s features, and he groaned, burying his face in the sheets and turning away from Merlin. Arthur detested royal events and ceremonies; he much preferred being on the training grounds with his knights or horseback riding on a mission outside of Camelot’s wall. Hell, he even preferred just being at his desk reviewing paperwork whilst Merlin attended to his chores in the same room. King Uther would likely be considering potential suitors for his hand in marriage, as Arthur recently became of age, and so he would need to contend with that for the next few days, also.
Arthur felt the sheets being pulled away from him as Merlin attempted to get him out of bed. Arthur held on tightly, resulting in Merlin leaning one foot on the side of the bed and using his entire body weight to try to heave the sheets away from Arthur. He was no match for Arthur’s strength, and so they hit a stalemate. Unfortunately for them both, it was at this moment that King Uther entered the room, having expected his son to have been dressed and ready at least an hour ago. He witnessed the somewhat comical scene of Arthur’s manservant tugging at the blankets, and Arthur cocooned inside, shouting at Merlin to leave him alone. Uther did not find any of this amusing in the slightest.
Feeling a foreboding sensation, Merlin glanced up and saw King Uther scowling from the middle of the room, his broad arms crossed across his chest, and the large golden crown perched on his head. The scar on his forehead was more prominent in the brightly lit room. Merlin let out a terrified squeak, immediately letting go of the sheets, the momentum sending him flying backwards and falling unceremoniously onto the floor.
“Ha!” Arthur emerged from the blankets and opened his mouth to claim his victory over Merlin, before noticing Merlin’s shameful blush covering his cheeks and his submissive, downturned eyes. He snapped his mouth shut and turned his head, finally noticing his father, whose face was thunderous.
“What is the meaning of this tomfoolery!?” Barked Uther, baring his teeth as he yelled. “Is your manservant so incompetent that he is unable to get you prepared in a timely fashion? Perhaps we are required to acquire a suitable and more proficient replacement!”
Arthur noticed Merlin’s eyes widened at this, and his face paled. Arthur jumped up from his bed, placing himself in the line of vision between his father and Merlin, who remained on the floor.
“Father, apologies, I believe this was mostly my - “. Uther cut him off,
“Just. Get. Ready.” He snapped, before turning on his heel and striding from the room, his large red cloak billowing behind him.
Arthur sighed heavily, placing his head into his hands wearily. He enjoyed spending time in Merlin’s company. Merlin had been Arthur’s manservant for a full cycle of seasons now, and the pair had grown closer, their humour, quips and banter falling into a territory of friends. However, due to the differences in status, Arthur could never truly consider them friends; that would be inappropriate… right? However, he acknowledged that sometimes this dynamic between them brought out the playful and boyish side of Arthur, which was not very befitting for a Prince of five and twenty.
With Uther out of the room, Merlin sprang into action. Grabbing the royal attire from the wardrobe, and expertly donning Arthur in the lavish outfit, Camelot’s reds and touches of silver. Arthur noted the slight shaking of Merlin’s fingers and clammy forehead as he stood directly in front of Arthur, adjusting the buckle of his cloak around his neck. Merlin continued to be terrified of King Uther. Arthur understood that most people found his father a force to be reckoned with, but wondered often why Merlin was so fearful. As Merlin finished this task, Arthur reached out and placed a warm hand affectionately on his shoulder. Merlin glanced up, a small smile playing on his lips. The moment was brief, seconds before Arthur returned his hand and was sitting down at the table to break his fast, whilst Merlin scurried around the room collecting strewn items and lighting the fire.
“Oh Merlin, you will be required to attend to a noble knight upon his arrival in Camelot, Sir Emeric from Essetir. He will require some assistance, given that he will be a guest within Camelot. I believe he will have his own servant with him, so you will only be required to support with some additional duties. Sir Emeric was only a young boy when he last set foot within Camelot’s walls.”
Merlin’s face fell behind Arthur’s back, a scowl pulling his mouth down. For some reason only known to the Gods and fate, there always seemed to be an attempt on Arthur’s life at Camelot celebrations. Merlin had planned to stay glued to Arthur’s side throughout the next four days, to ensure that any assassination attempts were thwarted. However, this change of plans meant Arthur would be at a greater risk than ever. Merlin opened his mouth to argue, but before he could utter a syllable, Arthur raised a hand and spoke with authority, “This is not up for negotiation, Merlin.” Merlin’s mouth snapped shut, and he huffed out a deep sigh in frustration. “Of course, sire.” Arthur hoped that having Merlin attend to Sir Emeric might keep him out of the way of his father's wrath, who had been increasingly stressed and irritable as the festival neared.
---
Unfortunately for Merlin, he was required to attend to a noble knight from Essetir, Sir Emeric. He was a tall, broad-shouldered middle-aged man, with thick dark eyebrows that pulled low and heavy over sharp eyes. Merlin hurried down the stone steps of the castle to greet Sir Emeric as he dismounted his horse. Merlin stepped up and began to introduce himself, “Welcome, Sir Emeric, my name is Merlin, I shall be assis-“ he huffed out a breath, as a large, heavy bag was thrown in his direction, his chest taking the brunt of the force, throwing his arms out to catch the bag before it fell. Merlin grunted with the effort, Gods, what is in here?!, looking up to see that Sir Emeric had not even glanced in his direction.
“Collect my things, servant and hurry. I wish to begin making my acquaintance with the King of Camelot as soon as possible. He shan’t be required to wait upon my introductions,” drawled Sir Emeric, a bored expression on his features as he began to stride towards the castle. Merlin rolled his eyes at Sir Emeric’s retreat before leaning up and grabbing the remaining items. Collectively, the four bags must have weighed more than Merlin himself, his legs buckling under the sheer weight. Merlin glanced around for Sir Emeric’s own servant to help share the load, but did not see anyone to assist. He scowled heavily, muttering out, “I’m going to kill Arthur myself at this rate,” before heaving the bags up the stairs on Sir Emeric’s heels.
After arriving in the chambers, Sir Emeric began to bark orders at Merlin, who followed in, sweating profusely and out of breath.
“Right then, don’t just stand idle, servant. I shall be requiring a bath after my long and arduous journey, seven days and seven nights I did ride. I shall also require a spread of meats, cheeses and fruits alongside a jug of wine to help satisfy my hunger and thirst. I shall require this to be sorted by -“
He continued to prattle on. Merlin blocked out Sir Emeric’s demands, knowing exactly what the knight would be requesting, as so many other nobles had demanded previously. A hot bath, an unnecessary amount of food, to be assisted with dressing, writing paper and ink so that a letter could be written, the fire stoked, candles lit, etc.
Merlin placed the heavy bags onto the floor. “Sir Emeric, do you require me to unpack your luggage for you, sir?” he huffed out. He caught a glimpse of Sir Emeric’s worried expression before it quickly shifted back to his usual contempt.
“No! I will not have a nosy light-fingered servant touching my belongings. Hurry with that bath!”
Merlin wanted, no, needed to address this right away; he could not be the manservant for Sir Emeric for the upcoming four days of the celebrations, not when he was manservant to the prince. He excused himself under the guise of collecting bath water and slipped up to Arthur’s chambers on the level above.
---
Upon entering the chambers, Merlin opened his mouth to inform Arthur of the situation, but stopped in his tracks. His stomach clenched at the sight. There stood George, that annoying small servant with a bowl cut and bad jokes about brass, assisting Arthur with manservant duties. A spike of jealousy and irritation shot through Merlin. Why couldn’t George be assisting Sir Emeric?!
George glanced up and gave Merlin a smirk, before turning cockily to Arthur and asking, “Is that all for now, sire?”
Arthur flapped his hand lazily in George’s direction, “Yes, yes, all for now, thank you. I shall require your assistance this evening at the feast”.
George bowed slowly and low before striding past Merlin on his exit, raising his eyebrows as he did so. It was common gossip amongst castle staff that George had been desperate for a promotion as manservant to royalty, particularly Prince Arthur, and had trained for many years. It was only Merlin saving Arthur’s life, and King Uther’s way of reward, that Merlin had usurped George to this position. However, George was not so easily deterred and continued his best to attain this position by getting Merlin sacked. Merlin turned his head, and as George was leaving, his eyes glowed gold. Suddenly, the rug shifted, and George tripped over, falling face-first into the wooden door.
“It seems Merlin’s clumsiness may be rubbing off on you!” laughed Arthur.
George glowed bright red, turning to scowl at Merlin as if he thought it was his fault, “Let’s hope not, sire,” replied George drily. Merlin grinned back and gave him a small wave. He huffed loudly before turning and hurrying from the room.
Merlin turned to Arthur, exclaiming loudly, “Why do you have brass-loving George attending you when I’ve been sent to attend to Sir Emeric? That man is cruel; he made me carry several of his heavy bags, and wants me to perform manservant duties the entire duration of his stay!”
Arthur glanced up, taking in Merlin’s squared shoulders and crossed arms. An impertinent expression on his face. Arthur sighed. He knew that Merlin was very… protective of his position as his manservant. Arthur was grateful for his loyalty and dedication, though he was arguably an awful manservant. He weighed carefully how to inform Merlin of this next piece of information. “Merlin, as you know, the relations between Camelot and Essetir have been tenuous as of late. As a gesture of goodwill, I offered your duties as the manservant of the royalty of Camelot to assist Sir Emeric. I’m sure Sir Emeric is not aware that you are actually a very bad manservant, but given his status as a knight and not royalty, I’m sure even your abilities to serve will be sufficient. It is only for four days, during which time George will be assisting me, so your duties will not be required. Everything will return to normal after the celebration. Besides, it will likely mean you will have fewer duties expected of you, and you can enjoy some downtime and the celebrations.” Arthur spoke slowly, keeping his voice even. He noted Merlin’s scowl deepening with each passing word. “I don’t expect you to like this situation, but my decision is final.” He added to stop Merlin protesting.
Merlin knew Arthur well enough by now to know that his tone of voice and sternness of eye indicated that there was no leeway. He sighed, resigned, before nodding his head. “Fine, but you owe me,” he replied cheekily, “maybe I could get some wine as a reward?”
“In case you have forgotten, Merlin, I am the Prince of Camelot, I don’t owe anyone, let alone my own manservant, anything! Besides, do you not already spend enough time in the tavern drinking? Your faculties would benefit from a drought”. Replied Arthur, a smile pulling at his mouth, enjoying the way casual banter began to fall back into their relationship dynamic.
Merlin copied George’s low, slow bow; he glanced up from his bowed position to see Arthur wide-eyed and surprised. Merlin just grinned, “Is this all for now, sire?” he quipped, imitating George from earlier.
Arthur rolled his eyes, grabbing Merlin by the shoulders and pulling him out of his bow,
“Never. Do that. Again”, turning Merlin around and visibly walking him to the door. “I believe you have manservant duties elsewhere,” and he pushed Merlin out of his room and slammed the door shut. Arthur rubbed at his forehead, returning to his desk and picking up the half-written speech he was required to give that very evening. He placed himself back in his chair behind his desk and continued writing.
---
Merlin collected some water from the well. He glanced around quickly to check whether anyone was watching him, then murmured, "sēoþan wæter”, his eyes glowing a brilliant gold, the water immediately boiled, steam lifting into the chilled air. He carried the two buckets into the room, noticing the sound of fast approaching heavy footsteps as he did so. He glanced up just in time to see Sir Emeric storming into his personal space, his face pulled tight into one of pure anger.
“How incompetent. How lazy. How disrespectful,” he spat out each sentence, prodding a thick finger sharply into Merlin’s chest. “You have taken an entire candle mark to return to me, servant”.
Merlin paled in the face of the anger. Merlin was not a short man himself, reaching 6ft in height, but even he was required to look up into the face of Sir Emeric, a tall man standing at 6ft 4 in. “So-sorry, Sir Emeric,” he muttered, stepping around the man and rushing over to fill the bathtub in the centre of the room. Merlin placed one bucket on the floor whilst he began to pour the other. As he was leaning over pouring the water, he heard Sir Emeric approaching, who then leaned down, snatching the second bucket off the floor.
“Never mind the bath now, servant, I shall be late to attend to the King due to your insolence, just fetch my food.”
He then proceeded to throw the boiling water from the second bucket over Merlin’s head and back. Merlin let out a startled yelp, the feeling of the freshly boiled water scalding his body. He felt the water splash hotly onto his face and neck. Closing his eyes, he bent down and hunched into himself as tightly as possible by the side of the bathtub. As expected, a second blow from Sir Emeric came when he threw the wooden bucket at Merlin with such force that it slammed into his head, resulting in him collapsing onto the floor. Merlin’s world became fuzzy and dark; he teetered on the edge of consciousness for several seconds, leaving him stunned on the floor.
Eventually, Merlin slowly pulled himself off the floor, dazed, his clothing soaked through and started to cool and stick to his skin uncomfortably. His head throbbed painfully, he poked carefully at the tender spot where the bucket had hit him, and upon pulling his hand away, noticed the red that stained his fingers. Looking up, he caught sight of Sir Emeric laughing before he sauntered from the room, his large gait swinging. Merlin held his hand close to the cut, whispering “hǣlan”. Nothing happened. He tried again, louder this time, more frustrated, “hǣlan”, but again nothing came as a result. He felt his magic trying to respond, weakly, sluggishly. He sighed, removing his neckerchief, luckily he wore red today, and pressing it into the cut on his hairline. His skin stung from the boiled water, but thankfully only appeared red and had not blistered. I really need to improve on healing magic, Merlin thought miserably, or this is going to be the longest four days of my life...