aleathiel | Fic: Livery

You were warned. I want to play in the shiny baby fandom!

Title: Livery
Fandom: Merlin (won't make much sense if you read it as general Arthurian!)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG

Summary: Arthur has something for Merlin.
Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: Written for the

tamingthemuse prompt Claddagh

It’s unlike Arthur to want to do paperwork. It’s especially unlike Arthur to hide said paperwork away when Merlin comes into the room rather than grin at the interruption and complain about administration.

Merlin watches, sees the pages Arthur shoves under the cloak on the table, and says nothing.

“You’re father is ready,” his says instead, as Arthur stands. And Arthur thanks him, fidgets a bit then asks Merlin to go get his sword.

When Merlin returns Arthur is wearing the cloak and the papers are gone.

*

The castle is in something of an uproar due to the expected arrival of the knights of Lyonesse sometime the following day. Merlin tries to stay out of the way, but Gaius keeps ‘borrowing’ him for errands and Arthur is in a bad mood and nothing Merlin does is good enough.

He tries, as usual, to respond to the prince in a light-hearted, teasing manner, but in the end Arthur just sighs and says sharply, “Just stop it, Merlin.”

“What’s the big fuss?” Merlin finally asks Gwen, sitting down wearily beside her where she is carefully repairing the hem of one of Morgana’s gowns. He’s decided that it’s a good idea to hide away where neither Gaius nor Arthur can shout at him.

Gwen glances at him with a smile, then puts down her needlework. “Uther is determined to make a perfect impression. Lyonesse is a fertile land and it has borders nor far from our own. He doesn’t want to give them any impression that we are weak, or in any way inferior to the…”

“Camelot’s not inferior!” Merlin interrupts, surprising himself because really he doesn’t have strong feelings about the land at all. That’s Arthur’s job.

Gwen smiles. “No, of course not. But if you’d let me finish?” She raises her eyebrows at Merlin and he ducks his head, embarrassed.

“Uther also wants – and you mustn’t repeat this although everyone knows it – to marry Arthur to the princess of Lyonesse. She has no brothers and her husband would inherit her lands. Uther’s always wanted to unite as many lands as possible with Camelot.”

“Control them, you mean,” Merlin mutters, and Gwen hits the back of his head.

*

Merlin tries not to think about what Gwen has said as he makes his way back to Arthur’s room, ducking to avoid the bustling servants and twisting out of the way of the loads of food, laundry and furniture that are being carted around the back passages of the castle.

It’s not that he has a problem with Lyonesse – he’d barely heard of it before, he thinks it might be that big mass to the west on some of Uther’s charts – but the idea of Arthur getting married fills him with dread.

He can’t pin it down, it’s not a specific dread. After all, the princess would have to move here – Arthur wouldn’t be going anywhere. And being married wouldn’t make him want to change his manservant, unless his wife for some reason dislikes him.

He’ll have to make a big effort with this princess, he decides, and win her over.

He is frowning heavily when he arrives at Arthur’s door just as the prince opens it and sticks his head out. “Mer… Oh, there you are.” Arthur waves him in.

Arthur starts talking about feasts and boots and shining and cloaks and Merlin is probably supposed to be listening because those do sound a bit like instructions, but somehow his head is all muddled up and it isn’t making sense.

“Merlin!” Arthur sounds exasperated and comes to stand close, putting one hand on Merlin’s shoulder and using the other to wave in his face. “You aren’t listening at all, are you?”

Merlin blinks and pretends he was paying attention all along. He runs back through the previous few seconds. “Red cloak on the third night, but you don’t want the pearl clasp you want the gold one?” he hazards.

Arthur sighs. “Okay, what’s wrong? You need to focus. We have to get this…”

“Perfect,” Merlin says with him in unison. “Yeah, Gwen told me all about the princess.”

Now it’s Arthur’s turn to look confused.

“The princess of Lyonesse whom you are going to marry,” Merlin elaborates. “I promise I will make you look wonderful for her.”

Arthur laughs a little in incredulity. “You really are an idiot sometimes, Merlin,” he says fondly. “Elaine isn’t coming, this is just some of her father’s knights.”

Merlin notes the use of her first name, but does feel some weight off his shoulders. “Oh,” he says, stupidly. There’s still a shine of humour in Arthur’s eyes and Merlin pushes at his shoulder, wishing he could really hit him.

“Is that what you were worried about?” Arthur asks, trying to catch Merlin’s eye.

“No, of course not,” Merlin says, too quickly, and even he can hear the defensiveness in his voice.

Wisely, Arthur changes the subject.

“Now, I was looking for you because I’ve had a discussion with my father about what you are going to wear for the banquet…” He’s disappearing behind his dressing screen and Merlin wants to put his head in his hands. What feathered monstrosity will Arthur produce this time?

When Arthur sees his face, there’s a hint of a knowing smirk before it becomes a real smile. “No, not that,” he reassures. “Actually that’s what I wanted to speak to you about. Father has decided that it’s time I have my own livery for my servants. So you won’t have to wear the Camelot uniform any more. You’ll be wearing my uniform instead.”

Merlin grins at him a little, because he likes the sounds of this. But Arthur’s still beaming and this makes Merlin worry a little.

“It’s still red,” Arthur explains, and there’s something in his hand behind the screen that Merlin can’t see – and is dreading.

“Okaaay,” Merlin says, ands it’s like watching an accident, he doesn’t want to know, but he does, and then Arthur pulls out the coat and it’s…

…all a bit anticlimactic really. It’s a simple red coat with an embroidered collar and on the chest is a crest with a dragon in black and green. It’s almost… nice.

“What do you think?” Arthur asks, and he’s nervous.

Merlin shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, taking it from Arthur and running his thumb across the embroidered dragon with a smile. Arthur is hovering like a proud parent and suddenly Merlin connects the dots.

“Wait, you designed this?” he asks in surprise. “That’s what you were doing the other day that you didn’t want me to see?’

Arthur nods, pleased with himself. Merlin almost wants to hug him.

“It’s great. I love it!” He holds it up against himself and twirls around, laughing. Arthur laughs too.

Then Merlin narrows his eyes. “Is this it? No additional frilly collar or pointy shoes or anything?” Arthur shakes his head. Merlin is unconvinced: there’s something Arthur isn’t telling him, he can see it in the slightly odd expression on the prince’s face.

“Okay, what?” he says in the end, meeting Arthur’s gaze.

“Nothing,” Arthur says. “I’m just pleased that you like it.”

“I do,” Merlin confirms. “I can’t believe you aren’t making me wear something horrific.”

A smirk crosses Arthur’s features. “You should have seen some of the earlier designs,” he teases.

Merlin rolls his eyes and folds the coat carefully, tucking it on a shelf with Arthur’s clothes. It’s safer here than in his room.

The pile of papers are here, folded on the floor and he bends to pick them up. Then Arthur grabs his wrist and takes the pages away.

“Don’t look at those,” he says casually. “You won’t like them as much.”

Merlin nods obediently, confused, but watches where Arthur puts them, tucked under his shirts in the chest under the window.

*

The banquet goes well. Or at least, Merlin supposes it does. He actually finds all this gathering quite dull. It’s all right for Arthur, sitting there with Sir Lavine and Sir Tristan, drinking and teasing Morgana, but it’s really pretty boring for the servants. He’s heard that there’s a party afterward, that once the dancing has started it’s accepted that the servants can slip away and enjoy themselves, they just have to stay through the dinner to serve their masters and mistresses.

So he stands, in his new coat, within signalling distance of Arthur, refilling his goblet when Arthur catches his eye. Gwen is there too, and Merlin takes some comfort in her presence although they don’t get much chance to talk.

Arthur is drinking a lot and he’s laughing loudly. It makes Merlin uncomfortable because this is the Arthur he remembers from his first few days in Camelot, brash, rude and arrogant.

And then, when the dinner is over and the servants start to leave, Arthur catches Merlin’s hand as he passes and whispers, “Stay,” in his ear. And then he’s gone, arm slung around the shoulders of one of the young knights from Lyonesse and Merlin isn’t sure if that was an order, or what.

He loiters for a while in the doorway but Arthur doesn’t ever so much as look at him.

“Are you coming?” Gwen asks as she hurries by.

Merlin shrugs, one shouldered, and she pauses. “I think Arthur just told me to stay, but stay where and why I don’t know.” He frowns.

Gwen’s face softens into a smile. “Then maybe you should stay for a while.” She glances over her shoulder at where the prince and his new friends are shouting and laughing. “After all, he may need help navigating the stairs!”

Merlin rolls his eyes, pretends he thinks it’s funny.

“If you get a chance,” Gwen says gently, “then come and find us. It will be fun.”

But Merlin’s not in the mood for fun. He watches Arthur whirl Morgana around the dance floor, stepping in ungainly fashion dangerously close to her satin slippers and she looks like she is laughing, but Merlin knows those whispered words in Arthur’s ear are reprimands.

When Arthur lets her go and picks up a new flagon, Morgana happens to glance across the room and she sees Merlin. Without drawing attention to herself she weaves her way amongst the guests to stand beside him.

“My lady,” Merlin murmurs deferentially. He’s never quite sure where he stands with Morgana.

“Go to bed, Merlin,” she says abruptly. “I don’t care what Arthur told you. He’s being a complete prat.” She glances at him. “He doesn’t deserve your care. I’ll make sure he’s dumped correctly in his own bed. Be warned that he will be in a foul temper in the morning.” And then she is gone, smiling graciously at a visiting lord and accepting his arm.

Merlin waits for a moment, then turns and hurries away.

He is half way to Gaius’s rooms when a thought crosses his mind and he diverts and goes instead to Arthur’s. He doesn’t have the key, but a few softly spoken words and the door opens anyway.

The room is in something of a chaotic mess and he starts to right it, mumbling spells that send things back onto their shelves. If he hears anyone coming he can always stop the spells and justify his presence with a claim that he was here to clean up.

Instead, he makes his way to chest under the window and rifles through the soft cotton and wool of Arthur’s shirts, so much finer than his own, until his fingers close on parchment.

There are four pages with drawings on them, and writing in Arthur’s scrawled handwriting. The first is the crest with the dragon he is wearing. He can see that it went through several incarnations before Arthur was happy with it. He puts the page aside.

The second crest is more intricate, a variation of Camelot’s double headed eagle with something that might be branches, or blots of lightening clutched in its claws. Merlin doesn’t like it as much as the dragon. It doesn’t have as much meaning as the dragon, even if Arthur is ignorant of that fact.

The third is a flower. Merlin frowns for a second before recognising it. The mortaeus flower. The flower which had so nearly caused his death and for the retrieval of which Arthur had nearly lost his.

For a moment it feels as if there might be a lump in Merlin’s throat because it seems so strange that Arthur would have fixated on such an emblem. This design is more than just a crest, it’s a reminder of something that would always tie them together. It is with reluctance that Merlin puts this page, too, aside and looks with awe at what is left.

At first he can’t make sense of it at all. Why would Arthur ever have drawn such a design? Was he really going to ask Merlin to wear it?

It’s a heart held between two outstretched hands and surmounted by a crown.

*

There’s a crash in the corridor and Merlin leaps to his feet, shoving what he can of the clothes and papers back into the chest and instantly ending the enchantments cleaning elsewhere in the room.

He is not a moment too soon. The door bangs open and Arthur stumbles in. “There you are!” he shouts in irritation at Merlin. “I thought I told you to stay…”

His eyes, made slow with drink, take in where Merlin is standing and the unkempt contents of the chest. For a moment an unease bordering on fear crosses his face, then the anger returns.

“I told you no! I told you not to look at those. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Merlin says, quickly. “I didn’t have a chance, I didn’t see them.” He’s doesn’t know what he’s saying but it’s too much to deal with this now, especially with Arthur drunk. “I’m sorry I left, I’m here now. Let me help you.”

He moves to unfasten Arthur’s cloak and the prince, seemingly mollified, allows it.

He’s a dead weight, making Merlin’s task harder when he tries to help. “Why did you drink so much?” Merlin mutters to himself as he unbuttons the prince’s shirt with one hand while trying to hold Arthur up with the other.

“They wouldn’t stop talking,” Arthur replies, slurring slightly.

Merlin laughs slightly. “Heaven forbid they want conversation at dinner,” he teases.

“No,” Arthur says, pushing away from Merlin and using the bedpost to hold himself up. “They wouldn’t stop talking about her, the princess. I couldn’t keep smiling.”

Merlin doesn’t pretend to understand, but he’s got Arthur down to his underclothes now, and that’s good enough. He manoeuvres the prince around and then allows him to tumble into the blankets. He remembers Morgana’s warning and grimaces. “Now you be nice to me tomorrow,” he tells Arthur.

And Arthur smiles at him. “I’m always nice to you,” he says sincerely before a yawn overtakes him.

Merlin hides his smile behind his hand. “Yes, Sire,” he agrees.

*

He waits a while to make sure that Arthur is safely asleep, then he lets himself out and makes his way back down to his room.

Once inside he bolts his door and curls up on the bed, trying to process all the new information he’s gathered.

Then, finally, before he falls asleep, he allows himself a glimmer of hope.

Page 1 of 2 << [1] [2] >>

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

lupus-malus.livejournal.com

Lovely. Are you going to continue this? Because I really want to know what happens when Arthur wakes up hungover and grumpy and realizes that Merlin must have seen the design!

From:

Fic: Livery

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags