Chapter Text
In the few weeks since Merlin’s arrival in Camelot, he had become convinced of one thing. His mother’s solution to keeping him safe would be what killed him—of sheer boredom.
He turned a page of the dusty book lying before him and suppressed a yawn.
There could only be one reason Hunith had sent him to Camelot, knowing very well how much King Uther hated magic. She must think that the best way to ensure Merlin’s abilities remained a secret was to stow him deep in the royal library, where, despite being right under Uther’s nose, he would see no one and no one would see him.
The only person who frequented the place, unfortunately for Merlin, was his reluctant mentor, Geoffrey of Monmouth. Who, having given Merlin some inane research task purely designed to preoccupy his time, was currently nodding off at his desk. The muffled silence punctuated by his soft snores, the gentle sunlight streaming through the windows, the dust motes lazily floating in the air—all of it was making Merlin’s eyelids grow heavy.
He summoned a surge of magic. It spread through him like a sparking flame, and several pages flipped of their own accord. He smiled, satisfied. Might as well get use out of his skills; there was nobody to bear witness aside from the ancient books and their near-equally ancient custodian.
The doors slammed open.
Merlin started, as did Geoffrey, snapping from his slumber with a yelp. Both of them turned to the unexpected visitor—and Merlin froze. He had only seen this face from a distance, but this was a man whose reputation far preceded him.
Geoffrey slowly got to his feet. “Sire? Can I help you?”
Prince Arthur’s disdain was apparent before he even opened his mouth. His eyes flicked from Geoffrey to Merlin to the towering bookshelves before meandering back to the librarian.
“Apparently, yes,” he said, scowling.
Geoffrey’s brows furrowed. “Sire?”
On Arthur’s heels followed his subdued manservant. Every time Merlin saw Morris, he was scampering in Arthur’s wake, forced to bend to every one of his ridiculous whims.
“My father,” Arthur said, “has sent me down here to… What was it?” he asked over his shoulder.
“‘Take responsibility’, sire,” Morris supplied.
“Right, that.” Arthur gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “So… what do you want me to do?”
Merlin found himself gripping the edge of his desk, unable to believe what he was hearing. Geoffrey, too, appeared dumbstruck, his mouth opening and closing without a word appearing in between.
Finally, he spluttered, “Excuse me?”
“If I may,” Morris said, stepping forward. “Prince Arthur insinuated, at last night’s feast, that Lord Eldred has more offspring than he has use for, leading King Uther to the conclusion that he should be, er… engaged elsewhere for the rest of the lord’s visit.”
“He’s hiding me down here,” Arthur said bluntly. “Even though what I said was perfectly reasonable. One fine son is more than enough, don’t you think?”
Merlin snorted. Of all the words he might choose to describe Arthur, fine wouldn’t even make the list. The sound echoed horribly around the room. As all three men turned to him, Merlin felt his face flush.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“Sire,” Geoffrey cut in hastily. “I—I’m not quite sure how we might be of service. Perhaps somebody else—perhaps Gaius—?”
Arthur’s nose wrinkled. “No, I’d rather not. All that talk of science…”
If he thought he’d be any better entertained by Geoffrey’s company, Merlin mused to himself, he had an unpleasant surprise coming.
“It is the King’s orders that Prince Arthur should remain—I mean, work here,” Morris said, already edging out the door. “I’ll send word that he has settled in.”
He left before anyone could protest. Merlin could practically hear the skip in his step as he hurried away.
Arthur stared at Geoffrey expectantly. Geoffrey glanced around, and his gaze settled on Merlin.
“You, boy.”
Merlin stood on slightly shaky legs. “Yes?”
“Have you reorganized the books in the east wing like I asked?”
“I have,” Merlin replied. It would have taken him weeks, and shortened his life by the same amount, had he not been able to rely on magic to evade the tedium.
“And you’ve dusted the shelves—?”
“All of them,” Merlin said. “Every single one.”
Geoffrey grunted, apparently at a loss. Surely this meant Arthur didn’t have to stay?
“I’ve found every book mentioning the asinus beetle, too,” Merlin added, tapping the book on his desk. “I’ve got the list right here, in alphabetical order—”
“Ah,” Geoffrey said suddenly. “You have yet to archive the charters, correct?”
Merlin hesitated. He couldn’t remember Geoffrey asking him to do that. “Yeah?”
Geoffrey turned to Arthur, who already looked disinterested. “Then, sire, perhaps that is an undertaking for you.” At the questioning tilt to Arthur’s brow, he explained, “I recently discovered that my previous apprentice had not been properly organizing the royal charters in historical order. As such, the documents require proper numeration—unless,” Geoffrey added with a tinge of hope, “you would prefer to assist Gaius after all…?”
Arthur frowned. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Merlin coughed to hide a laugh; it was surprisingly astute of Arthur to have noticed.
“Not at all,” Geoffrey said quickly, glowering at Merlin—and then, a gleam came over his eye, and he appraised Merlin with renewed interest.
“In fact, this is rather opportune,” he said, looking more pleased than Merlin had ever seen him. “Merlin, since you have finished your research, you can assist Prince Arthur.”
Merlin stopped just short of a groan. “Me? Are you sure I’m qualified?”
Geoffrey’s beard twitched, and Merlin could have sworn he looked amused. “You know how to count, yes?”
Merlin worked to keep the distaste from his face as Arthur looked him over. The message was clear on the prince’s face. I don’t like this.
Well, that was one thing they had in common.
“You had better get started,” Geoffrey said, rounding his desk. “The collection is rather… extensive. Follow me.”
As they set off into the depths of the library with the disgruntled prince in tow, Merlin became sure that the only person this was opportune for was Geoffrey.
—
The charters, as it turned out, were housed in a stuffy room carved deep in the library’s bowels.
It was a place even daylight couldn’t reach. Geoffrey abandoned Merlin almost immediately, leaving him to painstakingly work around the room to light the scattered candles. Slowly, the quivering light illuminated the closely packed shelves, stuffed to the brim with haphazard piles of parchment.
Arthur, meanwhile, made himself comfortable at a small table by the door. Merlin had a feeling the prince would become well acquainted with that chair while he was forced to do all the actual work. He lit the final candle and turned his attention to Arthur—who, in turn, stared at Merlin.
“Where do we start?” Arthur said, showing no indication that he had any intention of moving.
“At the beginning?” Merlin suggested.
Arthur nodded, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head. “Clever. You’d better get to work on that.”
There it was. Merlin had always suspected Prince Arthur was a prat, based on everything he’d seen and heard from a distance. Now he had the privilege of witnessing it firsthand.
He headed for the nearest shelf. “I can see how it might seem clever to you,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Merlin said, flashing his sweetest smile over his shoulder as he gathered an armful of scrolls. “Sire.”
Arthur frowned. “Do you have an issue with authority or something?”
“No,” Merlin said, smile dropping. “Just you.”
A scoff. “You know you can’t speak to me like that, right?”
“My mistake.” Merlin dumped the scrolls on the table. “Would you like me to leave you to the task?”
Arthur carefully sat up, his eyes narrowing. “Is that a threat, Merlin? You think I can’t do this myself?”
“Numbers can be tough for some people,” Merlin said in consoling tones.
Arthur shoved to his feet. Merlin blinked, distracted by the agility of the sudden move. It dawned on him, for a brief second, that he was facing a knight.
“All right, then,” Arthur said. “Let’s see who gets through the most of these first.”
A knight who was also, clearly, an idiot.
Merlin knew better than to get roped up in Arthur’s scheme to pass the bulk of the work to him. But as the prince stepped up to him, he couldn’t stand the prospect of backing down.
His chin tilted up in defiance. “Fine.”
“Fine,” Arthur repeated with a glower.
For all the gusto with which they set off on the challenge, the task itself proved to be extremely tedious. Soon, both of them found themselves sitting before a mountain of grants, leases and letters, scanning each one for its archival details before stacking it in one of several piles. Merlin inwardly bemoaned Arthur’s presence; with none other than the tyrannical king’s son sitting at mere arm’s length, he couldn’t even resort to magic to speed through the monotony.
Not for the first time, Arthur released an enormous yawn.
Merlin suppressed a sigh of irritation. “Tired already?”
“Some people do more than just sit around all day,” Arthur said pointedly.
“Let me know if you see any of those people, I’ll thank them for their hard work.”
Arthur set down the document he’d been perusing. “What exactly is your problem with me? Do we know each other?”
“No,” Merlin said evenly.
“Well, what is it, then? How have I offended you before we even met?”
Merlin, too, set aside the scroll in his hands. “We might not know each other,” he said. “But I know of you, Prince Arthur.”
Arthur regarded Merlin for a moment. Merlin braced himself for the inevitable threat or warning.
But eventually, Arthur simply turned away, and they fell back into a stilted silence.