Work Text:
It started, as far too many of Arthur’s mornings did, with a missing manservant.
Waking up without breakfast had become so commonplace that Arthur had hired a separate servant whose job was to stop by the kitchens after Merlin was meant to be there and bring up the platter if Merlin had forgotten. While the servant was there, he would help Arthur wash, dress, and get ready for the day. It was useful since Merlin so frequently slept in, but Arthur could admit in the privacy of his own mind that his primary motivation had less to do with efficiency and more to do with how delightful it was to see Merlin’s surprised face when he finally stumbled into Arthur’s chambers with an exclamation of, “You’re dressed!” (to which Arthur could scoff as if to say of course he knew how to put clothes on without assistance, who did Merlin take him for?).
The Breakfast Servant, as Arthur had taken to calling the man in his head, had shown up today, which meant that by the time Arthur wolfed down his food and put on his armor, he was running late for training with the knights.
“Merlin forget to wake you up again?” Elyan asked with a knowing smile.
“It’s getting hard to remember why I keep him around,” Arthur replied.
The knights could tell he was joking, so they laughed, but Arthur knew from experience that they would shuffle their feet and avoid eye contact if they had even an inkling that he might be serious. He sometimes wondered if he should be concerned about the odd loyalty his manservant had acquired, but for the most part, it pleased him that the self-sacrificing idiot had a veritable army looking after him. God knew he needed it with all the trouble he got into.
“He probably spent the night in the tavern again,” Arthur said as he surveyed the gathered knights. Lancelot was missing, which was unlike him, but the others seemed to be accounted for.
Gwaine’s brows rose. “Merlin? In the tavern?” He snorted.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Of course you would find my manservant’s descent into drunkenness amusing, Sir Gwaine.”
“Princess, I’ve been trying to get Merlin into a tavern since I got to Camelot, but he only ever shows up to pay my tab or carry me back to my chambers.”
That was...strange given how often Gaius claimed Merlin was there, but Arthur knew Gwaine wasn’t at the tavern as often as he wanted people to think. Arthur wouldn’t have made him a knight if the man couldn’t separate himself from his mead long enough to handle a sword or dabble in chivalry from time to time. So it was possible that Gwaine and Merlin had simply missed each other by getting drunk on different nights.
But for Merlin and Gwaine to have never gone to the tavern at the same time? It had to be at least somewhat intentional. Arthur smirked. “Maybe he just doesn’t fancy your company.”
Gwaine had the audacity to look completely unwounded. “Or he doesn’t fancy yours,” the knight drawled.
Arthur’s lips drew downward against his will. “What exactly are you implying, Sir Gwaine?”
Gwaine shrugged. “That Merlin needs a break from your royal attitude every now and then, so he lies about having an alcohol problem.”
Arthur’s stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of Merlin going through such lengths to get away from him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m his king. He wouldn’t make up lies to avoid me.”
Gwaine’s head tilted in challenge. “Why don’t we go ask him, then? Maybe the answer will motivate you to give him some time off every once in a while.”
Arthur scoffed and crossed his arms, belatedly self-conscious of the fact that all of his knights were watching this exchange. “We can’t skip training to interrogate my manservant.”
Leon bowed his head. “I’d be happy to take over training today while you go check in him, sire. I’m sure we’d all feel better knowing Merlin is alright.”
Arthur was endlessly grateful for Leon’s ability to make his whims sound like rational, kingly decisions. If he hadn’t already made Leon his first knight, he would have done it then. After a moment’s consideration, Arthur nodded firmly and said, “You’re right. Sir Gwaine and I will make sure no catastrophe has befallen him. We all know how clumsy he is.”
There were a handful of laughs in response, and then Arthur and Gwaine were making their way off the field. A strange trickle of nervousness entered Arthur’s blood the closer they got to Gaius’ chambers. He didn’t really think Merlin was injured or in danger, but he might have been the tiniest bit afraid that Gwaine’s assessment of Merlin’s behavior was accurate. It wasn’t that Arthur cared what his manservant thought of him--no, of course not, that would be ridiculous--but it was never pleasant for a king to discover a member of his household was lying to him. That was the only reason Arthur felt uncomfortable. Definitely not because he wanted to be Merlin’s favourite, and not Gwaine.
“Worried, Princess?”
“He’s not that clumsy,” Arthur said, but he knew that wasn’t what Gwaine meant.
When Arthur opened the door to Gaius’ chambers, he was greeted by the sight of Gaius, Merlin, and Lancelot all huddled around a large tome.
Merlin slapped the table excitedly. “That’s it!”
“Ahem,” Arthur said.
Gaius noticed first, straightening to his full height and clasping his hands professionally. Lancelot glanced up and smiled his usual angelic smile.
“Now we just need to sneak into Agravaine’s chambers and--” Merlin let out a sound like he’d just been elbowed in the gut. From the way Lancelot casually retracted his arm with the same innocent expression still trained on his king, that was exactly what happened. Merlin blinked up at Arthur, mouth opening in a soft ‘oh.’ He quickly turned it into an impressed grin. “Good morning, sire. I see you’ve managed to dress yourself.”
Arthur felt a familiar thrum of satisfaction at Merlin’s statement, but it was quickly overpowered by skepticism as he studied the three of them in silence. Gaius met his gaze confidently. Merlin fidgeted. Lancelot nudged Merlin again and looked pointedly at the book on the table. With a strange squawk, Merlin dropped to his elbows like he’d tripped over his own feet so that his upper body was shielding the book, face propped up in his hands. It made his cheeks squish up funny.
“Did you need something, sire?” Gaius asked. “Were you injured during training, perhaps?”
“...no,” Arthur said slowly. He narrowed his eyes. “What was that about my uncle?”
“Nothing to concern yourself with, sire,” Lancelot said. Merlin nodded from his hunched position, causing his forearms to wobble back and forth.
Arthur wasn’t sure how to proceed. Merlin looked suspicious, but...he had always been a bit shifty, hadn’t he? And Lancelot had never given Arthur cause for concern. His presence probably meant nothing untoward was happening. Arthur nodded to himself, appeased.
Gaius cleared his throat. “If there’s no injury, may I ask what brings you here, sire?”
Gwaine stepped around Arthur then, so he was fully inside instead of peeking through the doorway. “We were just wondering--”
“Actually, can it wait?” Merlin cut in. “I want us to have time to...” Lancelot and Gaius both coughed over whatever Merlin said next, recovering just in time for Merlin to finish, “...so we’d really better be going.”
“It is a matter of grave importance,” Gaius said, bowing his head.
Arthur paused for only a moment before stepping out of the way. He knew how urgent physician’s business could be. “By all means.”
Merlin beamed at Arthur, slamming the book closed and tucking it into his jacket before slipping out of the room. Lancelot followed behind him with a deferential nod to Arthur. Once they were gone, Gaius turned to tend a potion like his king wasn’t even there. Arthur and Gwaine left awkwardly shortly after to rejoin the other knights for training, with Arthur feeling a tad vexed like he had missed something important.
The matter was forgotten for the rest of the week while Arthur and the rest of his council dealt with the ramifications of Lord Agravaine’s mysterious disappearance. Scrolls were discovered in his room that evidenced a long-term correspondence with Morgana, but neither Gaius nor the knights discovered any proof that would point definitively to kidnapping, voluntary departure, or death, so the mystery went unsolved. It hurt to realize that yet another family member had betrayed him, but Arthur was grateful his uncle’s treachery had been discovered before any true damage could be done. He had the oddest feeling he was forgetting an important detail of the case, but other than making his nose itch, the feeling didn’t seem to accomplish anything. It was probably nothing.
A few days after castle life settled back into its routine, Arthur awoke to a knock at his door. Which meant Merlin had overslept again. Arthur went through his usual Merlin-less routine and then made his way to the throne room to hold an audience with the common people, fully expecting Merlin to be in his chambers when he returned.
...Merlin wasn’t in his chambers when he returned. Instead, a large lunch platter was waiting for him, courtesy of his Breakfast Servant (who might need a more comprehensive title if Merlin kept this up). It was complete with a trio of sausages and an apple, two components that never seemed to be there when Merlin served him. Arthur happily wolfed them down, sparing only a moment’s thought for Merlin’s whereabouts. His manservant always turned up sooner or later.
Just to be safe, Arthur decided to check in with Gaius before the afternoon council meeting. As he made his way to the physician’s chambers, he ran into Gwaine.
“You look cheerful today, Princess.”
“Only because I haven’t had to suffer through Merlin’s ineptitude.”
Gwaine frowned. “Merlin’s missing again?”
“Unsurprisingly,” Arthur said, ignoring the worry that burned in his chest, “which means I actually got my sausages at lunch today.”
Gwaine stared for a moment and then laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
Gwaine shook his head, still smiling fondly. “Merlin always lets me take food from your plate on the way to your chambers. Must mean I’m his favourite.”
He looked so smug that Arthur just had to prove him wrong. “Let’s go find him and ask then, shall we?” Arthur said, feeling the pulse of battle in his blood.
Gwaine’s eyes glinted like they did when he was about to rob the knights at dice. “Sure, Princess. I’d be glad to settle this once and for all.”
According to Gaius, Merlin was out gathering herbs to remedy a pox that had spread throughout the lower town. After searching for several hours--a waste of time that Arthur would never admit to, especially not to the council members he had blown off for this foolish mission--he and Gwaine spotted Merlin near the edge of the forest with Lancelot. Arthur’s shoulders dropped a few inches in relief.
“I’m not disappointed, exactly,” Lancelot was saying when Arthur got close enough to make out his words. “Just surprised. I didn’t take you for a negligent parent.”
“It’s not my fault,” Merlin said indignantly. “If I had known Kilgharrah was going to abandon her, I never would have left her with him.”
“How many times have I reminded you that Kilgharrah isn’t trustworthy?”
Merlin groaned. “Can we save the lecture until after we find her?”
“I’m just saying, he’s--”
“--a murderous, manipulative bastard who only cares about himself, yeah, you’ve said. And it’s not like I’m going to disagree with you at the moment. He just abandoned a baby. Who does that?!? And don’t you dare say me, Lance, I swear to gods...”
If they had stood there unnoticed for much longer, Arthur might have pondered the details of this bizarre conversation and the fact that there were no herbs in sight. As it were, his thought process was interrupted by Gwaine snapping a branch underfoot. Merlin and Lancelot looked up.
“Arthur? Gwaine? What are you doing here?” Merlin sounded perplexed, as if he couldn’t quite fathom how they had managed to walk out of the castle on their own. It was a bit insulting given that they were a king and a knight respectively, but Merlin had never been swayed by titles or rank, and he’d made it clear on multiple occasions just what he thought of Arthur’s intelligence. Arthur had consequently made it clear just how much he valued the close bond between his manservant and the stocks. He considered giving a follow-up of that speech now, but he figured that wouldn’t do him any favors with his current mission.
For several seconds, Arthur was distracted by the bloody entrails Merlin and Lancelot had been waving around like bait. The innards--which now hung limply in their grasps--might have been enough to turn a weaker man’s stomach, but they only gave Arthur a moment’s pause because then it hit him how mortifying this whole situation was. Was he really going to ask Merlin if he preferred Arthur over Gwaine?
Apparently Gwaine didn’t have any such qualms. “We were just wondering which of us is your favourite.”
Merlin stared blankly, a sight that was especially absurd given the blood coating his arms all the way to his rolled-up sleeves. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, Princess here found out you give me his sausages every day, and he’s feeling neglected--”
“I am not!”
“--so if you could just pick one of us to settle the bet, then you two can go on your merry way.” Gwaine flashed a smile, probably trying to sway him with Merlin’s decision with his devilish charms.
Arthur covered his face with his hand. Why had he agreed to this nonsense? Why had he gone along with anything that involved Gwaine? This was so embarrassing. Arthur was a king, goddammit! He shouldn’t be seeking validation from his servant.
When Arthur finally dropped his hands away, Merlin’s face was scrunched up in confusion. He lifted his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow, leaving behind a smear of blood. His mouth opened and closed several times, but before he could say anything, there was a beastly screech some distance away. Merlin and Lancelot shared a look.
“What was that?” Arthur asked, reaching for the hilt of his sword.
“Must be a pheasant, eh Merlin?”
Gwaine spoke as if he was recalling an inside joke, but it clearly didn’t mean anything to Merlin, because, after sharing a silent conversation with Lancelot, Merlin said, “Sorry, Gwaine, not now,” and dragged Lancelot toward the sound. “I’m sure you two can work out...whatever this is between yourselves.”
As they disappeared into the trees, Arthur could have sworn he heard Lancelot say something about hiding a baby dragon in his chambers. But that was probably just a trick of the wind.
Arthur spent the rest of the day dealing with the fallout from his absence at the council meeting. He checked in with various lords and ladies and vetoed any horrible ideas brought up while he was gone. Because of that, he didn’t have any more time to chase down Merlin or argue with Gwaine over which one of them his manservant liked better.
The next day, by total coincidence--definitely not because Arthur canceled plans with a visiting noble--there were a few free hours in his schedule, so Arthur decided to take Merlin’s advice and find Gwaine so they could work out the truth on their own.
They didn’t get anywhere for the first hour. Among other things, they both knew Merlin’s favourite color (Camelot red, which Arthur argued had something to do with him), his favourite song (a tavern refrain Gwaine claimed to have taught him), and his favourite food (which had nothing to do with either of them and everything to do with Gaius).
Then Arthur told Gwaine about Ealdor and how Merlin had introduced him to his mother, and Gwaine had responded that he and Merlin had had a heart-to-heart about their dead fathers. Arthur retorted that he and Merlin had also bonded over the fact that each of them had never met one of their parents.
...which led to the realization that Merlin had told them both different stories. So, of course, they needed to figure out which one was true so they could determine who Merlin trusted more.
When they went looking for Merlin this time, they had a pretty good idea of where they would find him. Lancelot’s curtains and blankets had mysteriously caught fire the night before, so Merlin was letting him stay in his room. Arthur had given Merlin the day off—very generously, the king thought—to help Lancelot salvage whatever personal items he could and move them into the back room of Gaius’ chambers.
However, when Gwaine and Arthur arrived in the room, Lancelot and Merlin didn’t appear to be moving Lancelot’s things. Instead, they were both juggling an armful of toads. Arthur briefly considered the possibility that two dozen toads were somehow the extent of the knight’s personal belongings. But there was no protocol for something like that, so it was really better to pretend nothing strange was going on at all--a strategy Arthur had perfected shortly after his father appointed Merlin as his manservant.
“I told you not to encourage me,” Merlin said as one of the toads leaped from his arms.
Lancelot resituated his amphibians so he could get a better grip on them. “I’m not going to apologize for believing in you, Merlin. You’ve trained with Gaius for years. You’re a talented physician.”
“Tell that to the people who are now toads because of my cold remedy!”
Lancelot looked at his armful, considering. “...I stand by my assessment.”
Merlin huffed. “Of course you do.”
Somewhere behind Merlin’s bed, there was a squeaking sneeze, and then the blankets were on fire.
“Fuck,” Merlin said, eyeing the escaped toad with renewed panic. “Don’t let him go into the flames!”
Lancelot lunged for the suicidal creature, dropping two others in his attempt to rescue the one. “Dammit. I think those might have been Leon and Percival.”
“The one we’re looking for is Gaius,” Merlin said, trying to stuff three toads into his neckerchief. “He’ll know how to change everyone back.”
Lancelot ensnared the flame-happy toad’s middle to yank him away from the burning bed. “Doesn’t he have to be changed back first?”
Gwaine knocked on the open door to get their attention.
Merlin looked up and groaned. “Not you two again.” Merlin yelped as one of the toads dove down into his shirt.
“Is that any way to speak to your king?” Arthur asked, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He had the sneaking suspicion that these toads were somehow actually his knights and Court Physician. But that was preposterous. Arthur had clearly missed the important piece of this conversation that would make whatever he was looking at make sense.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” Merlin said, lifting his leg to keep one of the toads from using it as a ramp to the ground. “You’re both my friends, but you’re also complete idiots who have the worst timing in the world.”
“The suspense is killing us, Merls,” Gwaine whined.
Lancelot (intentionally or unintentionally, Arthur wasn’t sure) had created a toad habitat in his hair, and he was now snaking his head back and forth to keep the precarious tower balanced. “Why don’t you ask around?” he suggested. “Gwen’s always happy to talk about Merli-- Elyan!” Lancelot tripped over Merlin while trying to grab the newly escaped toad, and they both ended up in a heap on the floor.
“Lancelot’s right,” Arthur said, turning from the disturbing scene and determinedly brushing it from his mind. “Gwen will have the answer.”
Gwaine looked past Arthur at the chaos for several seconds with concern before turning away and nodding. “Gwen knows everything.”
After topping off her overflowing basket with the last tunic from the clothesline, Gwen smiled fondly at them. “You’re funny. Why are you really here?”
When she received two miffed frowns, her eyes widened like she’d just been told a puppy had died. She lifted a hand to her mouth. “Oh no. You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Of course we’re serious,” Arthur said testily.
Gwaine nodded, looking grimmer than Arthur had ever seen him. “We need to know the answer.”
Gwen stared at them for several long seconds, biting her lip like she was holding something back. Then she burst into laughter. The sound was so sweet and lovely that it took Arthur several moments to realize she was laughing at them.
“Guinevere--” he started, trying not to flush too deeply in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped between laughs, “but it’s just--”
“What?”
“--you both--” She was tearing up now, giggles taking on a hysterical edge.
“Nothing could possibly be that funny.”
She took a few gulping breaths, struggling to swallow the grin that kept taking over her face. Finally, she had recovered to the point where her eyes were shiny rather than leaking and her lips only twitched every few seconds. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said, not sounding very sorry at all. “But everyone knows Lancelot’s his favourite.” She looked at them expectantly, as if waiting for them to understand their folly.
And--oh.
Oh.
As soon as she said it, Arthur felt as stupid as she clearly thought they were. He ran through all of their interactions with Merlin over the past two weeks and realized that while Arthur and Gwaine had been arguing over who Merlin liked best, Merlin had been spending all of his time with Lancelot. Which Arthur might have noticed if he hadn’t been so caught up in this ludicrous competition.
Gwaine sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah. Right.”
Arthur didn’t feel as terrible as he expected he would. Losing to Gwaine would have been horrific, but to Lancelot? That could be alright, even if his competitive streak disagreed. Lancelot was an honorable man who would no doubt be a good influence on Merlin. He would keep Merlin out of the tavern and maybe teach him a bit about the value of duty.
Before Arthur could say so, Elyan burst into the laundry room where they were standing, looking mildly green and warty, Percival only a few paces behind. “We need to break up Lancelot and Merlin,” Elyan said. “They’re a terrible influence on each other.”
Well. At least Arthur didn’t speak too soon.
“Also, did you know they’ve been keeping a dragon in the castle? Because it’s loose, by the way, and everything is on fire.”
Arthur wondered if the dragon was another thing he had missed while wrapped up in his stupid contest with Gwaine. Had he heard something about this dragon before? In the forest, perhaps? The details were a little fuzzy. Elyan had to be exaggerating though, or maybe speaking in metaphor, because even Mer lin wasn’t stupid enough to release a dragon in Camelot. If Arthur could just find Lancelot, he was sure the knight would have a perfectly rational explanation for all this. He would smile innocuously at his king, and Arthur would know that nothing was wrong.
Already feeling better about the whole affair, Arthur nodded toward Elyan. “Lead the way.”
“Aithusa, no,” Merlin was saying when they approached.
Except that Arthur must have been hallucinating because it looked like Merlin was trying to parent a dragon.
“I think she might respond better if you adjust your tone,” Lancelot remarked, like he was commenting on a piece of furniture that should be moved slightly to the left rather than the living, breathing dragon that was currently waging war on Camelot.
Merlin pursed his lips thoughtfully before nodding. “You’re right. My mother always said it’s best not to lecture a child when you’re upset.”
Percival cleared his throat.
The fact that this conversation was happening against a backdrop of screaming nobles and clouds of ash from burned tapestries was not lost on Arthur, but for some reason, when Lancelot looked up and smiled, he fleetingly thought that perhaps everything was fine.
“Does one of you want to explain to me what is going on?” he asked once he reminded himself that things were not, in fact, fine.
“Sire, if I might make a suggestion?” Lancelot said, bowing his head as nobly as ever.
Arthur’s eye twitched as he tried to reconcile the sight before him with the Lancelot Elyan claimed was responsible for this chaos. “If you must.”
“Perhaps we deal with the fires now and ask questions later.”
Arthur wanted to object, but he found that even with the mounds of evidence suggesting it was foolish to do so, his natural instinct was to trust Lancelot. And it wasn’t actually an unreasonable solution, even if it was motivated by a desire to escape interrogation. “Right. Where is Sir Leon?” Arthur looked around for his first knight, but he was nowhere to be found.
A quiet “...ribbit...” came from near Arthur’s right boot. He glanced down at the toad. Merlin coughed suspiciously. A few seconds passed in which Arthur rethought every decision in his life that had led him to this moment.
When the silence became too much--silence being a relative term given the ongoing screams all around them--Gwaine asked, “Should we kill the dragon first or--”
“No!” Merlin and Lancelot shouted, stepping in front of the beast in question as if it needed protecting rather than the burning castle and panicked residents. Then, to top it all off, Lancelot had the audacity to flash that stupidly sinless smile, and add, “We’d best hurry, sire.”
Although he would never admit it, as Arthur placed a stray toad that might have been his first knight on his shoulder and set out to calm his people and douse the flames caused by the world’s tiniest dragon, he decided he had been completely and utterly wrong about everything. Lancelot’s sweet, angelic smile was a bold-faced lie, and Merlin was exactly that stupid. And, to the detriment of Camelot, neither Arthur nor Gwaine was Merlin’s favourite.