FIC: Love, Patience, Valour and Aster
Dec. 6th, 2017 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fifty_fiftyTitle: Love, Patience, Valour and Aster
Pairing(s): Hints of Merlin/Arthur here and there
Character(s): Merlin, Arthur Pendragon, Gaius, Gwaine, Leon, Percival
Word Count: 5913
Rating: G
Summary: It’s the night after Camelot’s Yule celebration and no one even acknowledges that it’s the anniversary of Merlin’s birth. Not Gaius, not Arthur nor the knights. Of course, Arthur seems to have decided that it’s best to start the year as he means to go on, by being an enormous prat. But is he really?
Notes: Loosely based (as in no one appears to remember that it's Merlin's birthday. But it's not implied that this is what always happens) on this prompt: Merlin/Arthur - Merlin's birthday is on January 1st and everyone always sort of forgets/doesn't give it much importance in the middle of the New Year celebrations. Everyone but Arthur.
Big thank you to Dream Maiden for the last minute beta and for the mods for bearing with me and my writers block! I came through in the end. :)
I also wanted to note that, Asters are also flowers which, amongst other things, are known as a talisman of love and a symbol of patience.
Merlin sighed as he rose from his bed and swung his legs over the edge. Gods his head ached. Just how much had he drank last night? And how had he even made it back to bed? He had no recollection of either of these things. In fact, the last thing he could remember was pouring wine for Arthur; his face golden and bright in the light of the candles nearby.
As he rubbed his face he wondered what had happened after that. He smoothed his hand down his shirt. He was still mostly dressed, except for his jacket, boots and for some reason; his breeches. At least he was still wearing his small clothes. He must have fallen asleep in the midst of undressing, he supposed.
He stood up with a groan, a jolt of pain stabbing him in the head. He didn’t know how on Earth he was going to function today, when he couldn’t even bare to move. He squinted through half-closed eyes and pulled on his magic willing it to bring him a cup of water nearby. His magic responded and pulled the clay cup towards him, but it was a struggle with his hungover brain. The magic that normally buzzed and hummed eagerly underneath his skin like a living thing, was slow and sluggish, as though it too was hungover.
Finally, after several long minutes commiserating about his miserable state of body and mind, Merlin slowly changed his shirt and found a clean pair of breeches. Where on earth his others had disappeared to, he did not know. He staggered out of his room and down the stairs to Gaius’ chambers.
It was blessedly warm and quiet in the main chamber, with no Gaius to be unsympathetic and tell him I told you so with just a look. He sat down at their bench in his usual spot and buried his head in his arms, jostling a glass vial at his elbow. He slowly turned his head and glanced at the bottle wincing and trying to focus his eyes. There was a piece of parchment propped against it with Gaius’ scrawl on it.
I’m sure you’re in a bit of a state this morning. Gone to deliver Helena’s child. Drink this.
Merlin took back every evil thought he’d had about Gaius being self-righteous and condescending after he’d returned from a night of over-indulgence and struggled upright, downing the horrible potion with unexpected gusto. It was Gaius’ famous post-feast willow bark remedy that very few people generally received. He knew within a few candle-marks he would be feeling significantly better and able to get on with the rest of the day.
He went to check the pot by the fireplace. Often Gaius left a porridge or gruel there to stay warm for him, for his breakfast. But the pot was empty. He sighed, maybe he could filch some of Arthur’s breakfast or if there were any, maybe he could nab a plate of leftovers from last night from the kitchen. Joanie, one of the kitchen maids, had a soft spot from him, which he took advantage of at every opportunity. Even if he did feel a bit bad about doing it when he wasn’t really all that interested in the girl. But it helped keep him fed, given that Mary the head cook simply hated him. He thought it was all rather unjustified really. Just because he had been known on occasion to help the knights get some extra food (okay, entire chickens and pheasants), did that really warrant being hit around the head with a ladle and being chased away the moment his hands strayed from the King’s tray?
Speaking of The Prat. He’d better get going and bring him his breakfast. If Arthur woke up before then and realised that Merlin was late because of his over-indulgence the night before there would be hell to pay. He grabbed his jacket from where it had been discarded on the floor and pulled it on. Maybe his breeches would show up later.
***
Unfortunately for Merlin, Joanie was nowhere to be seen in the kitchen, just Mary and her subordinate Jane. Merlin knew better than to even attempt to take anything, even with his magic. He couldn’t rely on it to do what he wanted at that moment anyway and it was a ridiculous way to be found out if he got caught. So he contented himself with grabbing Arthur’s tray and nabbing the bread roll off of his plate to nibble on as he subtly rearranged the food on the plate to hide it’s loss.
Using a tentative push of magic, he flung open the doors to Arthur’s chambers, deposited his breakfast on the table and then went to open the heavy velvet curtains.
“Wakey, wakey, Lazy Bones!” he called with fake cheer. Although, actually seeing Arthur cower under his blankets did bring him real cheer, and he deserved that at least. For today was Yule and yesterday they had sacrificed boars and paid their respect to their ancestors; having a feast in their honour. Today was the come down from it all. It was also the anniversary of Merlin’s birth.
Not may peasants could say they knew the exact day of their birth, but having been born just as the sun had started to dawn on a new year in Ealdor meant that it was something that stuck in the minds of all those who lived there and just added to the excitement of the celebrations each year as he grew up.
Suddenly, Merlin felt a pang of homesickness that was so acute it almost took his breath away. If he had been at home with his mother she would have woken him gently with a smile and a gift (usually a new neckerchief or shirt that she had been making when she thought he wasn’t looking) and there would be food from the previous night’s feast warming on the fire with bread freshly baked, still hot even, on the table. Their little hut would be warm and comforting and full of love. Far a-cry from the cold, draughty rooms and halls of Camelot, where servants rushed from room to room in order to avoid the worst of the chill whilst they did their masters and mistresses bidding.
“-erlin! Merlin! Gone deaf again? I said get me my boots!” yelled Arthur. He reached out a hand for the metal goblet that always sat on his bedside table at night. Before Merlin could react, he felt the water hit his face and he shuddered. “Maybe that will make you pay attention. Honestly, Merlin, if letting you have a little wine at a feast makes you this slow and even worse of a servant than you usually are, I’ve half a mind to ban you from having any at all in future!”
“You’ve half a mind alright,” mumbled Merlin under his breath.
“What did you just say, Merlin?” said Arthur menacingly.
Merlin straightened up and looked him in the eye. He never backed down from a confrontation with Arthur when he was getting all pompous. “I said you had half a mind alright.”
Arthur started to turn an unattractive shade of puce in his rage. “OUT!” he ordered. “Before I have you put in the stocks!”
***
Merlin didn’t return back to his shared chambers, Gaius was likely to still be out and it just felt too empty and lonely in there without him there. Especially today. Instead, he headed to the stables. It was a comforting place; warm and cozy and it actually smelt quite nice in there if the hay had been recently changed. He made his way through the stables over to Hengroen’s stall. He stepped closer to him and Hengroen nuzzled up happily as Merlin ran a hand over his withers, along his back and over his flank in a soothing motion. Hengroen whinnied in welcome and nudged Merlin’s shoulder.
“Your owner is a prat, you know that, don’t you, Hen?” he murmured into his coat.
The horse in the next stall, poked it’s head over curiously to see what was going on. Merlin smiled and rubbed her forehead and muzzle. The horse was a new acquisition of Arthur’s, though why Arthur needed a third horse when he had both Hengroen and Llamrei Merlin doesn’t know.
All Merlin knows is that he would be thrilled to have any one of them. When he rides out with Arthur, he takes any horse that’s available from the horses that are kept for general use of all the servants but not all of them are cut out for some of the longer trips that they make. Though Merlin was quite proud of the fact that he had yet to come across a horse that didn't take to him straight away. Maybe it was his magic or maybe he just had a knack with them, but he'd always seemed able to calm the wilder ones and encourage the lazy or docile ones to give him their best when needed.
Arthur’s new horse was a black mare with a clearly defined white star on her forehead. She was simply a gorgeous horse with a lovely temperament and if it wasn’t for the fact that he would likely be spending a lot of time looking after her for Arthur he might have been a bit jealous. But as was is, he was enjoying taking care of her.
“Yes, yes, you sweet thing. I will make sure to bring you an ap-ple-” Hengroen nudged him excitedly as he was talking. “Yes, you too Hen and Llamrei, as well. I swear, you three will make me broke with all the treats you ask me for.”
“Ah, there you are Merlin!” Gwaine called from the stable door. The horses sniffed and snorted as they smelt the apple that he was eating. “Oh hell,” he cursed and threw the apple towards Hengroen and then pulled another one from his pocket and offered it to the other horse. “Arthur wants you to go get his sword from the blacksmiths and his new cape from the tailor.”
Merlin bristled. “What? Today?” he spluttered.
Gwaine shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger, I’m just passing it on.”
With a final pat on Hengroen’s back and a stroke of the other horse's mane, Merlin set off on his task. Both of the places he had to go to were inconveniently on the opposite sides of the lower town. He couldn’t help but think that Arthur had planned it this way as punishment for his earlier disrespect. He trudged through the cold, muddy streets quietly fuming. The town was quiet and subdued, everyone was tired and a little worse for wear from the night before. Nice for some to have the day off, he thought. Even the children were playing calmly for once and chattering quietly amongst themselves.
Merlin made his way up to the blacksmiths house ready to retrieve Arthur’s new sword. He knocked on the door and to his dismay there was no answer. It looked as though the blacksmith was not even home. A neighbourhood child confirmed it for him when she rushed over and told him that the blacksmith was never open during Yule because whoever wanted armour or a sword during Yule? Who indeed, agreed Merlin, immediately picturing a blond prat in his head and decided that the next time that he saw Arthur he was going to give a piece of his mind for sending him on a stupid wild goose chase.
He rushed off to the tailors next, swearing that if this was another wasted journey—rather than defending Arthur’s life—he would be the first one in line to end it. He didn’t even know when or why Arthur had ordered a cape from the tailor, because he hadn’t even sent Merlin to order it like he usually would. Whilst admittedly, this would have made more work for him, if he was honest with himself the fact that he hadn’t sent Merlin with the order in the first place annoyed him more. Because who else would he have sent? If he had sent that snivelling, suck-up George… Well... he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. And he swore to himself that he would strangle Arthur with his bare hands if the cape also happened to come with another one of those blasted feathered hats to replace the other one that had “mysteriously” spontaneously combusted, whilst Merlin was innocently whistling in the next room.
The tailor, after making him wait for several candle marks, passed him two large packages wrapped in his customary brown fabric and string (Merlin always made sure that a poor family from the lower town received this fabric once Arthur had examined his new clothing).
Tired, cold and splattered with mud, he trudged all the way back through town and up to the castle gates.
***
When Merlin arrived back in Arthur’s chambers Arthur was no where to be seen. Merlin didn’t know whether to be pleased about this or not. On the one hand, if Arthur was here it was likely that he would get next to no acknowledgement for his mornings work. In fact, Arthur would probably blame him for not being able to get his new sword. But on the other hand, there was always something so soul-warming about coming back to Arthur’s chambers when Arthur was filling them with his presence, candles lit and the fire burning merrily, warming the room. It felt comforting and something like home. But the room was dark in the winter gloom and the cold had seeped in as the fire had gone out in the grate.
With a sigh, Merlin put the packages down on the table and went over to the woodpile near the fireplace. On bended knee he swept out the grate and built a new fire. He glanced around the room and then flashed his eyes—he knew that he shouldn’t be using magic—usually it wouldn’t even cross his mind to, he would go to another room to light a taper or use the fire to light them as was habit for him now. But today he felt rebellious and a little bit reckless. He nudged his magic and it surged through him to light the candles and then he whispered ’Bærne’ and his magic surged through him again and took care of the fire. Soon flames licked up the wood and it caught fire quickly. With a smile he held his hands close to the fire warming them and his face, taking a moment to enjoy it all. A part of him took a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing that tonight Arthur would be wrapped up in a cloud of warmth that was created by Merlin. By his magic. As if it could seep into him through his skin and then bury itself deep down into his soul.
Using magic to create the fire had been a bit of a screw you to Uther and his ban on magic. Even though, no one would ever know. Normally now it was habit for him to light the fire using a flint and steel. Both his mother and Gaius had drilled that into him. But after all his traipsing over town he was tired, cold and ready for the day to be over with already. He hadn’t been able to help but cheat and if he’d been a bit petty along with it… well.
The door opened and Merlin startled.
“Ah, Merlin!” said Arthur, striding into the room. “There you are, where on Earth have you been?”
“Running all over town for your royal backside,” Merlin muttered back at him from the fire’s hearth.
Arthur threw himself down in a chair and propped his feet up on the table. “I see you’re still in a stellar mood,” he said with a grin.
“Oh I’m just peachy, thanks.” Merlin said as he got up from the fire. He went to the table and proceeded to pick up the packages and started undoing the strings.
Arthur’s hand slammed down on top of his. “Not so fast, Merlin. I have another task for you. Geoffrey would like for you to take some books to Gaius for him.”
Merlin glanced at him suspiciously. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it. What does he need them for?”
Arthur hesitated for just a moment. But it was long enough for Merlin to notice. He looked at him with suspicion. “Very… important things. The- the border dispute with Essetir that I asked for him to look into. Well, don’t just stand there! Chop, chop!” And with that he shepherded Merlin out of the room.
Merlin stomped off through the castle heading for the library with a scowl on his face. He shivered from the cold wind that was whistling through the hallways. Stupid Arthur, with his stupid face and stupid demands, he thought to himself.
When Merlin made it to the library he found, much to his annoyance, that the doors were locked and Geoffrey was nowhere to be found. Just when Merlin thought that he couldn’t be any more annoyed at Arthur, his annoyance ratcheted up just another notch. The candles on the walls around him, burst into flame and he dug his nails into the palm of his hand as he wrestled his magic under control. Screw Arthur and his ridiculous, unreasonable demands. No one else was sending their servants hither and thither on all sorts of tasks when well over half the town and castle were having a day off, were they? But does Merlin get a day off? No, that would be too much to ask, wouldn’t it. Even on the anniversary of his birth. Well, if Arthur wouldn’t give him a break, Merlin would just have to take one himself.
***
Merlin kicked open the door to the Physician’s chambers, his magic; which had finally settled after it’s rough start to the morning, flared to life in order to set all the candles in the cold, dark room blazing with light without his even thinking or urging it.
Gaius is still gone then, he sighed to himself.
With a glare at the fire and it leapt into life, even though there was no wood in the fireplace. His magic then nudged the door to his chambers closed. Given that he now unexpectedly had the afternoon off, he decided he would get his magic book out. Merlin strode over to his room and changed into fresh, clean clothes. Then he bent down beside his bed and lifted his book out from beneath the loose floorboard under his bed. He might as well do something for himself today if no one else was going to.
Just when he had settled down and was about to crack open his book in front of the fire (it was way too cold to be in his room when there was a nice warm fire to be had), with a blanket wrapped around him, the door slammed open and in came a stumbling group of knights.
“M’rlin… M’rlin...” lisped Gwaine, as he limped into the room, held up by Percival and Sir Leon. His face was covered with blood and his left eye was rapidly swelling shut. Merlin closed his book with a sigh and then carefully ensured that it was covered up with the blanket.
“What did you do this time, Gwaine?” he asked, as the knights set Gwaine down on the bed nearest the fire. Merlin emptied a wooden bucket of water into the iron pot and then set it over the fire.
He grabbed a bowl and some rags and then pulled up a stool in front of Gwaine.
“Ah, M’rlin. Wouldn’ you like t’ know...” he slurred attempting to tap his nose, but missing it completely.
With a roll of his eyes Merlin started to clean the cut as best he could with a dry cloth. He looked over at Sir Leon and Percival. “What actually happened?”
Sir Leon was perusing the various vials of medicine on the shelf, so Percival supplied the answer in his usual short and straight-to-the-point manner. “Deorwynn’s husband found out he’d been flirting with her, didn’t he?”
Merlin shook his head. “Well, I’ll clean you up, Gwaine. But I’m not going to pretend to feel sorry for you.” Merlin made his way back over to the fireplace and scooped out some of the warm water. Sometimes, when he was feeling sorry for a patient, he would whisper a spell over the water that was supposed to help numb the pain for a while. But today he felt no such compassion. When the hell was Gwaine going to grow up a bit and learn that he couldn’t just go out leering over other men’s wives? Especially women with a husband like Deorwynn's who would give Percival a run for his money in size and strength.
It took quite a while, but finally he was finished and Gwaine was as cleaned up and mended as he could be. Merlin nodded at Sir Leon and Percival when they told him that they would take him back to his chambers to sleep off the drink. Even though he felt like Gwaine had brought it on himself, he made them promise to take it in turns watching over him overnight as it appeared that he’d taken a knock to the head. After giving Percival a few vials that would relieve the pain and an arnica paste for Gwaine’s eye and other bruises, Merlin finally returned to his book.
He was barely settled and comfortable in his chair again when the door opened another time. This time, it was Gaius who had finally returned from the childbirth he had left to attend in the morning. Merlin shot up from his chair and ran to help Gaius in. The old man was obviously tired from over-exertion at the birth and lack of sleep from the early wake up call. It had been a difficult birth and whilst the babe survived; the mother, Helena, had passed not too long afterwards. Merlin knew that Gaius was always depressed when he lost a patient, even if he tried his best not to show it. So he got Gaius’ bed ready for him and then warmed it with a whisper before he got in.
“Things will look better in the morning, Gaius,” said Merlin. “You’ll see.” Gaius didn’t even argue with him as he fussed over him. Nor did he get the expected glare and lecture about the appropriate use of his magic, which was a sign in and of itself of how hard he’d taken Helena’s death.
***
With Gaius in bed, Merlin took his book to his room to give Gaius the peace and quiet that he needed. He tried to study in the light of the single candle by his bed. But it was cold in his room and the low lighting meant that he had to keep squinting at some of the smaller, messier handwriting in the book. But even the less than ideal studying conditions couldn’t smother the small sense of satisfaction he felt when he finally mastered one of the spells he’d been studying. Just as he was putting the book away another servant came into the chambers and called for him. Arthur was summoning him again.
Merlin took a deep breath and straightened his back. He wouldn’t let Arthur piss him off again today. He would go and do whatever stupidly inane thing Arthur asked him to do, like a good servant (perhaps he could channel George) and then he would be off on his way back to his room. With a detour to the kitchen along the way to see if he might be able to beg something off of them for his dinner.
***
He took another series of deep breaths with his eyes closed when he arrived at Arthur’s door. Normally he would have just kicked the door open and barged in. But if he’d decided that he was going to play the perfect servant that Arthur always complained that he was not, then it was better to at least knock before entering. So he knocked and waited as patiently as he could.
“Come!” called Arthur from inside the room.
Merlin steeled himself and opened the door, closing it quietly behind him.
“Sire,” he said, stiffly as he bowed his head.
Arthur set down his quill and leant back in his chair with a smirk. “Ah, Merlin. There you are. Unwrap those packages from the tailors will you?”
Merlin felt a surge of anger rise within him and his magic prickled angrily under his skin. “But I- !” he started to sputter, before he remembered that his plan to be a good servant and get just on with it. He snapped his mouth closed and pressed his lips in a firm line. “Of course, Sire.”
He walked over to Arthur’s bed where the packages were now situated and pulled on a string. The bow came apart in his hands easily and he pushed the string off to start unwrapping the cloth. Inside the package was a newly tailored shirt in a shade of purple he’d never seen Arthur wear before. Arthur had a strong preference for Pendragon red and white shirts mostly. He jumped when he suddenly realised that Arthur was right behind him.
Arthur leant over him and picked up the shirt.
“You know, only royalty and those who serve directly under them can wear this colour,” Arthur commented. Merlin turned and looked at him critically, an eyebrow raised. What was Arthur on about? Arthur pressed the shirt to Merlin’s chest. “Happy Yule, Merlin.”
Merlin’s face morphed to one of surprise. “You..?” He frowned and looked at the shirt Arthur had pressed against him. “You’re giving me a gift?”
Arthur looked exasperatedly at him. “Yes, Merlin. It’s a thing you do for your… fr- servants, at Yule.”
“Were you going to say that we’re friends?” teased Merlin with a grin.
Arthur looked offended now, but Merlin knew better. “No, of course not. We could never be friends, Merlin. Look, just take it alright?” He pushed it firmly back into Merlin’s hands. “Now, stop dithering and open the other one.”
Merlin smiled to himself and glanced over his shoulder at Arthur who was watching with a look of what was supposed to be disinterest but was just a little too interested to be disinterest.
Keep your breeches on,” Merlin called cheerfully. He smirked to himself when Arthur spluttered from behind him.
Merlin pulled the strings on the remaining parcel and pulled open the material. Inside there was something blue, made from wool. Arthur’s cape, he assumed. It looked warm and serviceable. But not really the kind of thing that Arthur went for. It looked too simple for him. He pulled the material out and held it up to himself. The dark blue material cascaded down his body and legs. It was a cloak. It swished around him as he turned to face Arthur. “Time for a new disguise, huh?” he asked holding it out to Arthur.
Arthur had to smother a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s for you, Idiot. Now put it on and follow me.”
He turned on his heel and strode over to the door. Leaving Merlin to rush after him, flinging the cloak around his shoulders and tying it as he hurried to catch up.
The cloak was as warm as he had imagined that it would be and as he drew it around himself he noticed some embroidery on the left-hand side, near his heart. He ran his fingers over it and tried to glance down and see what the embroidery was as he hastened after a marching Arthur. Suddenly, it hit him like a bolt of lightning and his heart rate quickened under his fingers. It was the Pendragon crest. He raced to catch up to Arthur who was almost at the door which would lead them down the stairs and into courtyard of the castle.
“Arthur,” he panted. “Arthur, stop!”
Arthur turned on his heel with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, Merlin?”
“I can’t- I mean, there must have been a mix up, a mistake. The cloak,” he pulled at the crest. It was very subtle as it has been embroidered with the same colour of thread as the cloak, but when you looked closely it was definitely easy to see it. He held it out for Arthur to see. “It’s got your crest on it!”
Arthur’s mouth quirked into the beginning of a smile and he replied patronisingly, “Yes, Merlin. Very good. It is my crest.”
“But-” it was Merlin’s turn to splutter. “It’s your crest!”
Arthur turned and opened the door and then started down the stairs. “And you’re my servant. Do keep up, Merlin!”
Arthur swaggered across the courtyard, heading in the direction of the stables as Merlin kept pace beside him. “Why are we going to the stables, Arthur?” He didn’t reply. “Arthur, where are we going?”
Arthur carried on ignoring Merlin’s questions as he walked into the stables and Merlin followed on his heels. Arthur greeted both Llamrei and Hengroen who we both instantly vying for his attention as soon as he had walked in and near to their stalls. He pet them both with a smile. “Merlin, go fetch your horse,” he commanded.
Merlin frowned at him. He didn’t have a horse. Arthur knew that. Maybe he meant that sable mare, Jessie, that he had been riding lately? Merlin grabbed a bridle and started to head off down to Jessie’s stall.
“Wrong way, Merlin.” Arthur called, rubbing Hengroen’s nose.
Merlin had reached Jessie’s stall and started to slip the bridle on her. “No, Sire. I’m in the right place. I normally take Jessie, these days.”
Arthur strode over to him and physically turned him around. “Down here, Merlin.”
He guided Merlin down the stalls until he was in front of Arthur’s new mare. “Arthur- this is your horse,” Merlin said with a confused look. “Who – I hasten to mention – doesn’t even have a name.”
“No, she’s not.” Arthur said, he had returned to Hengroen and Llamrei who were both nosing their master and sniffing him for any possible food. “She’s your horse, Merlin. Why don’t you name her? You can call her ‘Horsie’ or ‘Blackie’ for all I care.”
Merlin looked at him for several long moments, dumbfounded.
Arthur grinned at him.“Happy Birthday, Merlin.”
Arthur could tell the exact moment that everything finally clicked for Merlin and a manic grin, which crinkled his eyes to barely open slits, spread across his face. He flung himself at Arthur and hugged him tightly. Arthur’s arms just hung there for a minute before he awkwardly patted Merlin on the back. “There, there, Merlin. Why don’t you go back and see to ‘Horsie’.”
Merlin pulled away with an offended look on his face “Psht! As if I would name a horse as gorgeous as this ‘Horsie’! She’s perfect,” he said as he took several steps over to her. “And she’s obviously called Aster.”
Merlin smiled softly and pressed his forehead against the horse as he rubbed his hand along her neck. Arthur smiled at the sight. Both Merlin and the horse were obviously besotted with each other. They’re going to make a great team. Arthur had thought so the moment he’d spotted the mare, when he’d started on his quest of finding a horse for Merlin. She was from good stock (but not so good that questions would be asked) and so she would be able to keep up with the patrols and any journeys the Knights went on. Plus she had a good and even temperament, meaning she was both reliable and hardworking. Personally, Arthur enjoyed a horse that was a bit of a handful and had a bit of fire in them. But he’d been watching Merlin with the horses and whilst it had been clear that Merlin could handle most of them with ease. He always seemed to enjoy himself more on the even tempered ones.
It had taken a bit of searching to find the perfect horse and Merlin hadn’t had a clue Arthur was doing it. He knew that it had all been worth it though, when he had seen the look of pure delight and happiness on Merlin’s face when he’d wished him a happy birthday and he’d realised that the horse was for him.
“Aster. Greek for ‘Star’“, Arthur mused aloud and then his grin turned wicked. “Like I said, it’s your horse.”
Merlin looked up at him, he looked a little cross, but perhaps that’s because he’d been interrupted from his love-fest with Aster. “Hey! What’s wrong with Aster!?” he exclaimed, he almost sounded outraged on behalf of the horse.
“Nothing,” Arthur replied evenly.
“No, seriously, Arthur. What’s wrong with the name Aster?” asked Merlin insistently.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, Merlin,” replied Arthur struggling to keep a straight face.
Merlin’s face was crestfallen. “But you hate it?”
Arthur sighed loudly. “No, Merlin. I don’t hate it, she’s your horse you can call her what you like.”
“But if you hated the name you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” he asked, concerned.
With a roll of his eyes Arthur came over to Merlin and held him by the shoulder. “Yes, Merlin. I would tell you if I hated her name.”
Merlin let out sigh of relief. “Alright then.”
Arthur smiled at him and nodded. “If that’s quite everything, Merlin, you can have the rest of the day off.”
Merlin grinned at him again, still delighted with Aster. “Thanks.”
***
Upon his return to the castle, Arthur heard Merlin’s footsteps hurrying behind him. “I told you you could have the night off, Merlin.”
Merlin settled in to walk alongside him. “I know,” he said, matching pace. “It’s just… I just realised something. I think… and I’m probably going a bit mad by even saying this… But I think I would rather spend my birthday with you. You’re the only one who even remembered that actually was my birthday. Even Gaius forgot. Although he was out for a lot of the day and did lose a patient which he hates. So that’s probably why it slipped his mind. And Mother, well she did remember, of course. She sent me some new socks a few days ago. But it’s not the same as someone actually wishing you a happy birthday on the day, is it? And Gwaine… well. He didn’t say anything, pissed as fart and rather worse for wear. Neither did Sir Leon or Percival and they were perfectly sober...”
“Merlin?”
“Yes, Arthur?”
“Shut up.” Arthur put an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and tugged him closer to him. “Better. Now stop complaining, I remembered. And I seem to recall that I gave you and I quote a perfect horse as a present. Now let’s go back to my chambers and get drunk celebrating the anniversary of your birth.”
“Yeah,” breathed Merlin, as he looked at Arthur and slowly grinned. “Yeah, I think I’d quite like that.”
***
When they arrived back in Arthur chambers, Merlin went to sit down in a chair, his feet brushed against some clothing on the floor. “Arthur,” he called. “Why are my breeches in your chambers?”
Pairing(s): Hints of Merlin/Arthur here and there
Character(s): Merlin, Arthur Pendragon, Gaius, Gwaine, Leon, Percival
Word Count: 5913
Rating: G
Summary: It’s the night after Camelot’s Yule celebration and no one even acknowledges that it’s the anniversary of Merlin’s birth. Not Gaius, not Arthur nor the knights. Of course, Arthur seems to have decided that it’s best to start the year as he means to go on, by being an enormous prat. But is he really?
Notes: Loosely based (as in no one appears to remember that it's Merlin's birthday. But it's not implied that this is what always happens) on this prompt: Merlin/Arthur - Merlin's birthday is on January 1st and everyone always sort of forgets/doesn't give it much importance in the middle of the New Year celebrations. Everyone but Arthur.
Big thank you to Dream Maiden for the last minute beta and for the mods for bearing with me and my writers block! I came through in the end. :)
I also wanted to note that, Asters are also flowers which, amongst other things, are known as a talisman of love and a symbol of patience.
Merlin sighed as he rose from his bed and swung his legs over the edge. Gods his head ached. Just how much had he drank last night? And how had he even made it back to bed? He had no recollection of either of these things. In fact, the last thing he could remember was pouring wine for Arthur; his face golden and bright in the light of the candles nearby.
As he rubbed his face he wondered what had happened after that. He smoothed his hand down his shirt. He was still mostly dressed, except for his jacket, boots and for some reason; his breeches. At least he was still wearing his small clothes. He must have fallen asleep in the midst of undressing, he supposed.
He stood up with a groan, a jolt of pain stabbing him in the head. He didn’t know how on Earth he was going to function today, when he couldn’t even bare to move. He squinted through half-closed eyes and pulled on his magic willing it to bring him a cup of water nearby. His magic responded and pulled the clay cup towards him, but it was a struggle with his hungover brain. The magic that normally buzzed and hummed eagerly underneath his skin like a living thing, was slow and sluggish, as though it too was hungover.
Finally, after several long minutes commiserating about his miserable state of body and mind, Merlin slowly changed his shirt and found a clean pair of breeches. Where on earth his others had disappeared to, he did not know. He staggered out of his room and down the stairs to Gaius’ chambers.
It was blessedly warm and quiet in the main chamber, with no Gaius to be unsympathetic and tell him I told you so with just a look. He sat down at their bench in his usual spot and buried his head in his arms, jostling a glass vial at his elbow. He slowly turned his head and glanced at the bottle wincing and trying to focus his eyes. There was a piece of parchment propped against it with Gaius’ scrawl on it.
I’m sure you’re in a bit of a state this morning. Gone to deliver Helena’s child. Drink this.
Merlin took back every evil thought he’d had about Gaius being self-righteous and condescending after he’d returned from a night of over-indulgence and struggled upright, downing the horrible potion with unexpected gusto. It was Gaius’ famous post-feast willow bark remedy that very few people generally received. He knew within a few candle-marks he would be feeling significantly better and able to get on with the rest of the day.
He went to check the pot by the fireplace. Often Gaius left a porridge or gruel there to stay warm for him, for his breakfast. But the pot was empty. He sighed, maybe he could filch some of Arthur’s breakfast or if there were any, maybe he could nab a plate of leftovers from last night from the kitchen. Joanie, one of the kitchen maids, had a soft spot from him, which he took advantage of at every opportunity. Even if he did feel a bit bad about doing it when he wasn’t really all that interested in the girl. But it helped keep him fed, given that Mary the head cook simply hated him. He thought it was all rather unjustified really. Just because he had been known on occasion to help the knights get some extra food (okay, entire chickens and pheasants), did that really warrant being hit around the head with a ladle and being chased away the moment his hands strayed from the King’s tray?
Speaking of The Prat. He’d better get going and bring him his breakfast. If Arthur woke up before then and realised that Merlin was late because of his over-indulgence the night before there would be hell to pay. He grabbed his jacket from where it had been discarded on the floor and pulled it on. Maybe his breeches would show up later.
Unfortunately for Merlin, Joanie was nowhere to be seen in the kitchen, just Mary and her subordinate Jane. Merlin knew better than to even attempt to take anything, even with his magic. He couldn’t rely on it to do what he wanted at that moment anyway and it was a ridiculous way to be found out if he got caught. So he contented himself with grabbing Arthur’s tray and nabbing the bread roll off of his plate to nibble on as he subtly rearranged the food on the plate to hide it’s loss.
Using a tentative push of magic, he flung open the doors to Arthur’s chambers, deposited his breakfast on the table and then went to open the heavy velvet curtains.
“Wakey, wakey, Lazy Bones!” he called with fake cheer. Although, actually seeing Arthur cower under his blankets did bring him real cheer, and he deserved that at least. For today was Yule and yesterday they had sacrificed boars and paid their respect to their ancestors; having a feast in their honour. Today was the come down from it all. It was also the anniversary of Merlin’s birth.
Not may peasants could say they knew the exact day of their birth, but having been born just as the sun had started to dawn on a new year in Ealdor meant that it was something that stuck in the minds of all those who lived there and just added to the excitement of the celebrations each year as he grew up.
Suddenly, Merlin felt a pang of homesickness that was so acute it almost took his breath away. If he had been at home with his mother she would have woken him gently with a smile and a gift (usually a new neckerchief or shirt that she had been making when she thought he wasn’t looking) and there would be food from the previous night’s feast warming on the fire with bread freshly baked, still hot even, on the table. Their little hut would be warm and comforting and full of love. Far a-cry from the cold, draughty rooms and halls of Camelot, where servants rushed from room to room in order to avoid the worst of the chill whilst they did their masters and mistresses bidding.
“-erlin! Merlin! Gone deaf again? I said get me my boots!” yelled Arthur. He reached out a hand for the metal goblet that always sat on his bedside table at night. Before Merlin could react, he felt the water hit his face and he shuddered. “Maybe that will make you pay attention. Honestly, Merlin, if letting you have a little wine at a feast makes you this slow and even worse of a servant than you usually are, I’ve half a mind to ban you from having any at all in future!”
“You’ve half a mind alright,” mumbled Merlin under his breath.
“What did you just say, Merlin?” said Arthur menacingly.
Merlin straightened up and looked him in the eye. He never backed down from a confrontation with Arthur when he was getting all pompous. “I said you had half a mind alright.”
Arthur started to turn an unattractive shade of puce in his rage. “OUT!” he ordered. “Before I have you put in the stocks!”
Merlin didn’t return back to his shared chambers, Gaius was likely to still be out and it just felt too empty and lonely in there without him there. Especially today. Instead, he headed to the stables. It was a comforting place; warm and cozy and it actually smelt quite nice in there if the hay had been recently changed. He made his way through the stables over to Hengroen’s stall. He stepped closer to him and Hengroen nuzzled up happily as Merlin ran a hand over his withers, along his back and over his flank in a soothing motion. Hengroen whinnied in welcome and nudged Merlin’s shoulder.
“Your owner is a prat, you know that, don’t you, Hen?” he murmured into his coat.
The horse in the next stall, poked it’s head over curiously to see what was going on. Merlin smiled and rubbed her forehead and muzzle. The horse was a new acquisition of Arthur’s, though why Arthur needed a third horse when he had both Hengroen and Llamrei Merlin doesn’t know.
All Merlin knows is that he would be thrilled to have any one of them. When he rides out with Arthur, he takes any horse that’s available from the horses that are kept for general use of all the servants but not all of them are cut out for some of the longer trips that they make. Though Merlin was quite proud of the fact that he had yet to come across a horse that didn't take to him straight away. Maybe it was his magic or maybe he just had a knack with them, but he'd always seemed able to calm the wilder ones and encourage the lazy or docile ones to give him their best when needed.
Arthur’s new horse was a black mare with a clearly defined white star on her forehead. She was simply a gorgeous horse with a lovely temperament and if it wasn’t for the fact that he would likely be spending a lot of time looking after her for Arthur he might have been a bit jealous. But as was is, he was enjoying taking care of her.
“Yes, yes, you sweet thing. I will make sure to bring you an ap-ple-” Hengroen nudged him excitedly as he was talking. “Yes, you too Hen and Llamrei, as well. I swear, you three will make me broke with all the treats you ask me for.”
“Ah, there you are Merlin!” Gwaine called from the stable door. The horses sniffed and snorted as they smelt the apple that he was eating. “Oh hell,” he cursed and threw the apple towards Hengroen and then pulled another one from his pocket and offered it to the other horse. “Arthur wants you to go get his sword from the blacksmiths and his new cape from the tailor.”
Merlin bristled. “What? Today?” he spluttered.
Gwaine shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger, I’m just passing it on.”
With a final pat on Hengroen’s back and a stroke of the other horse's mane, Merlin set off on his task. Both of the places he had to go to were inconveniently on the opposite sides of the lower town. He couldn’t help but think that Arthur had planned it this way as punishment for his earlier disrespect. He trudged through the cold, muddy streets quietly fuming. The town was quiet and subdued, everyone was tired and a little worse for wear from the night before. Nice for some to have the day off, he thought. Even the children were playing calmly for once and chattering quietly amongst themselves.
Merlin made his way up to the blacksmiths house ready to retrieve Arthur’s new sword. He knocked on the door and to his dismay there was no answer. It looked as though the blacksmith was not even home. A neighbourhood child confirmed it for him when she rushed over and told him that the blacksmith was never open during Yule because whoever wanted armour or a sword during Yule? Who indeed, agreed Merlin, immediately picturing a blond prat in his head and decided that the next time that he saw Arthur he was going to give a piece of his mind for sending him on a stupid wild goose chase.
He rushed off to the tailors next, swearing that if this was another wasted journey—rather than defending Arthur’s life—he would be the first one in line to end it. He didn’t even know when or why Arthur had ordered a cape from the tailor, because he hadn’t even sent Merlin to order it like he usually would. Whilst admittedly, this would have made more work for him, if he was honest with himself the fact that he hadn’t sent Merlin with the order in the first place annoyed him more. Because who else would he have sent? If he had sent that snivelling, suck-up George… Well... he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. And he swore to himself that he would strangle Arthur with his bare hands if the cape also happened to come with another one of those blasted feathered hats to replace the other one that had “mysteriously” spontaneously combusted, whilst Merlin was innocently whistling in the next room.
The tailor, after making him wait for several candle marks, passed him two large packages wrapped in his customary brown fabric and string (Merlin always made sure that a poor family from the lower town received this fabric once Arthur had examined his new clothing).
Tired, cold and splattered with mud, he trudged all the way back through town and up to the castle gates.
When Merlin arrived back in Arthur’s chambers Arthur was no where to be seen. Merlin didn’t know whether to be pleased about this or not. On the one hand, if Arthur was here it was likely that he would get next to no acknowledgement for his mornings work. In fact, Arthur would probably blame him for not being able to get his new sword. But on the other hand, there was always something so soul-warming about coming back to Arthur’s chambers when Arthur was filling them with his presence, candles lit and the fire burning merrily, warming the room. It felt comforting and something like home. But the room was dark in the winter gloom and the cold had seeped in as the fire had gone out in the grate.
With a sigh, Merlin put the packages down on the table and went over to the woodpile near the fireplace. On bended knee he swept out the grate and built a new fire. He glanced around the room and then flashed his eyes—he knew that he shouldn’t be using magic—usually it wouldn’t even cross his mind to, he would go to another room to light a taper or use the fire to light them as was habit for him now. But today he felt rebellious and a little bit reckless. He nudged his magic and it surged through him to light the candles and then he whispered ’Bærne’ and his magic surged through him again and took care of the fire. Soon flames licked up the wood and it caught fire quickly. With a smile he held his hands close to the fire warming them and his face, taking a moment to enjoy it all. A part of him took a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing that tonight Arthur would be wrapped up in a cloud of warmth that was created by Merlin. By his magic. As if it could seep into him through his skin and then bury itself deep down into his soul.
Using magic to create the fire had been a bit of a screw you to Uther and his ban on magic. Even though, no one would ever know. Normally now it was habit for him to light the fire using a flint and steel. Both his mother and Gaius had drilled that into him. But after all his traipsing over town he was tired, cold and ready for the day to be over with already. He hadn’t been able to help but cheat and if he’d been a bit petty along with it… well.
The door opened and Merlin startled.
“Ah, Merlin!” said Arthur, striding into the room. “There you are, where on Earth have you been?”
“Running all over town for your royal backside,” Merlin muttered back at him from the fire’s hearth.
Arthur threw himself down in a chair and propped his feet up on the table. “I see you’re still in a stellar mood,” he said with a grin.
“Oh I’m just peachy, thanks.” Merlin said as he got up from the fire. He went to the table and proceeded to pick up the packages and started undoing the strings.
Arthur’s hand slammed down on top of his. “Not so fast, Merlin. I have another task for you. Geoffrey would like for you to take some books to Gaius for him.”
Merlin glanced at him suspiciously. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it. What does he need them for?”
Arthur hesitated for just a moment. But it was long enough for Merlin to notice. He looked at him with suspicion. “Very… important things. The- the border dispute with Essetir that I asked for him to look into. Well, don’t just stand there! Chop, chop!” And with that he shepherded Merlin out of the room.
Merlin stomped off through the castle heading for the library with a scowl on his face. He shivered from the cold wind that was whistling through the hallways. Stupid Arthur, with his stupid face and stupid demands, he thought to himself.
When Merlin made it to the library he found, much to his annoyance, that the doors were locked and Geoffrey was nowhere to be found. Just when Merlin thought that he couldn’t be any more annoyed at Arthur, his annoyance ratcheted up just another notch. The candles on the walls around him, burst into flame and he dug his nails into the palm of his hand as he wrestled his magic under control. Screw Arthur and his ridiculous, unreasonable demands. No one else was sending their servants hither and thither on all sorts of tasks when well over half the town and castle were having a day off, were they? But does Merlin get a day off? No, that would be too much to ask, wouldn’t it. Even on the anniversary of his birth. Well, if Arthur wouldn’t give him a break, Merlin would just have to take one himself.
Merlin kicked open the door to the Physician’s chambers, his magic; which had finally settled after it’s rough start to the morning, flared to life in order to set all the candles in the cold, dark room blazing with light without his even thinking or urging it.
Gaius is still gone then, he sighed to himself.
With a glare at the fire and it leapt into life, even though there was no wood in the fireplace. His magic then nudged the door to his chambers closed. Given that he now unexpectedly had the afternoon off, he decided he would get his magic book out. Merlin strode over to his room and changed into fresh, clean clothes. Then he bent down beside his bed and lifted his book out from beneath the loose floorboard under his bed. He might as well do something for himself today if no one else was going to.
Just when he had settled down and was about to crack open his book in front of the fire (it was way too cold to be in his room when there was a nice warm fire to be had), with a blanket wrapped around him, the door slammed open and in came a stumbling group of knights.
“M’rlin… M’rlin...” lisped Gwaine, as he limped into the room, held up by Percival and Sir Leon. His face was covered with blood and his left eye was rapidly swelling shut. Merlin closed his book with a sigh and then carefully ensured that it was covered up with the blanket.
“What did you do this time, Gwaine?” he asked, as the knights set Gwaine down on the bed nearest the fire. Merlin emptied a wooden bucket of water into the iron pot and then set it over the fire.
He grabbed a bowl and some rags and then pulled up a stool in front of Gwaine.
“Ah, M’rlin. Wouldn’ you like t’ know...” he slurred attempting to tap his nose, but missing it completely.
With a roll of his eyes Merlin started to clean the cut as best he could with a dry cloth. He looked over at Sir Leon and Percival. “What actually happened?”
Sir Leon was perusing the various vials of medicine on the shelf, so Percival supplied the answer in his usual short and straight-to-the-point manner. “Deorwynn’s husband found out he’d been flirting with her, didn’t he?”
Merlin shook his head. “Well, I’ll clean you up, Gwaine. But I’m not going to pretend to feel sorry for you.” Merlin made his way back over to the fireplace and scooped out some of the warm water. Sometimes, when he was feeling sorry for a patient, he would whisper a spell over the water that was supposed to help numb the pain for a while. But today he felt no such compassion. When the hell was Gwaine going to grow up a bit and learn that he couldn’t just go out leering over other men’s wives? Especially women with a husband like Deorwynn's who would give Percival a run for his money in size and strength.
It took quite a while, but finally he was finished and Gwaine was as cleaned up and mended as he could be. Merlin nodded at Sir Leon and Percival when they told him that they would take him back to his chambers to sleep off the drink. Even though he felt like Gwaine had brought it on himself, he made them promise to take it in turns watching over him overnight as it appeared that he’d taken a knock to the head. After giving Percival a few vials that would relieve the pain and an arnica paste for Gwaine’s eye and other bruises, Merlin finally returned to his book.
He was barely settled and comfortable in his chair again when the door opened another time. This time, it was Gaius who had finally returned from the childbirth he had left to attend in the morning. Merlin shot up from his chair and ran to help Gaius in. The old man was obviously tired from over-exertion at the birth and lack of sleep from the early wake up call. It had been a difficult birth and whilst the babe survived; the mother, Helena, had passed not too long afterwards. Merlin knew that Gaius was always depressed when he lost a patient, even if he tried his best not to show it. So he got Gaius’ bed ready for him and then warmed it with a whisper before he got in.
“Things will look better in the morning, Gaius,” said Merlin. “You’ll see.” Gaius didn’t even argue with him as he fussed over him. Nor did he get the expected glare and lecture about the appropriate use of his magic, which was a sign in and of itself of how hard he’d taken Helena’s death.
With Gaius in bed, Merlin took his book to his room to give Gaius the peace and quiet that he needed. He tried to study in the light of the single candle by his bed. But it was cold in his room and the low lighting meant that he had to keep squinting at some of the smaller, messier handwriting in the book. But even the less than ideal studying conditions couldn’t smother the small sense of satisfaction he felt when he finally mastered one of the spells he’d been studying. Just as he was putting the book away another servant came into the chambers and called for him. Arthur was summoning him again.
Merlin took a deep breath and straightened his back. He wouldn’t let Arthur piss him off again today. He would go and do whatever stupidly inane thing Arthur asked him to do, like a good servant (perhaps he could channel George) and then he would be off on his way back to his room. With a detour to the kitchen along the way to see if he might be able to beg something off of them for his dinner.
He took another series of deep breaths with his eyes closed when he arrived at Arthur’s door. Normally he would have just kicked the door open and barged in. But if he’d decided that he was going to play the perfect servant that Arthur always complained that he was not, then it was better to at least knock before entering. So he knocked and waited as patiently as he could.
“Come!” called Arthur from inside the room.
Merlin steeled himself and opened the door, closing it quietly behind him.
“Sire,” he said, stiffly as he bowed his head.
Arthur set down his quill and leant back in his chair with a smirk. “Ah, Merlin. There you are. Unwrap those packages from the tailors will you?”
Merlin felt a surge of anger rise within him and his magic prickled angrily under his skin. “But I- !” he started to sputter, before he remembered that his plan to be a good servant and get just on with it. He snapped his mouth closed and pressed his lips in a firm line. “Of course, Sire.”
He walked over to Arthur’s bed where the packages were now situated and pulled on a string. The bow came apart in his hands easily and he pushed the string off to start unwrapping the cloth. Inside the package was a newly tailored shirt in a shade of purple he’d never seen Arthur wear before. Arthur had a strong preference for Pendragon red and white shirts mostly. He jumped when he suddenly realised that Arthur was right behind him.
Arthur leant over him and picked up the shirt.
“You know, only royalty and those who serve directly under them can wear this colour,” Arthur commented. Merlin turned and looked at him critically, an eyebrow raised. What was Arthur on about? Arthur pressed the shirt to Merlin’s chest. “Happy Yule, Merlin.”
Merlin’s face morphed to one of surprise. “You..?” He frowned and looked at the shirt Arthur had pressed against him. “You’re giving me a gift?”
Arthur looked exasperatedly at him. “Yes, Merlin. It’s a thing you do for your… fr- servants, at Yule.”
“Were you going to say that we’re friends?” teased Merlin with a grin.
Arthur looked offended now, but Merlin knew better. “No, of course not. We could never be friends, Merlin. Look, just take it alright?” He pushed it firmly back into Merlin’s hands. “Now, stop dithering and open the other one.”
Merlin smiled to himself and glanced over his shoulder at Arthur who was watching with a look of what was supposed to be disinterest but was just a little too interested to be disinterest.
Keep your breeches on,” Merlin called cheerfully. He smirked to himself when Arthur spluttered from behind him.
Merlin pulled the strings on the remaining parcel and pulled open the material. Inside there was something blue, made from wool. Arthur’s cape, he assumed. It looked warm and serviceable. But not really the kind of thing that Arthur went for. It looked too simple for him. He pulled the material out and held it up to himself. The dark blue material cascaded down his body and legs. It was a cloak. It swished around him as he turned to face Arthur. “Time for a new disguise, huh?” he asked holding it out to Arthur.
Arthur had to smother a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s for you, Idiot. Now put it on and follow me.”
He turned on his heel and strode over to the door. Leaving Merlin to rush after him, flinging the cloak around his shoulders and tying it as he hurried to catch up.
The cloak was as warm as he had imagined that it would be and as he drew it around himself he noticed some embroidery on the left-hand side, near his heart. He ran his fingers over it and tried to glance down and see what the embroidery was as he hastened after a marching Arthur. Suddenly, it hit him like a bolt of lightning and his heart rate quickened under his fingers. It was the Pendragon crest. He raced to catch up to Arthur who was almost at the door which would lead them down the stairs and into courtyard of the castle.
“Arthur,” he panted. “Arthur, stop!”
Arthur turned on his heel with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, Merlin?”
“I can’t- I mean, there must have been a mix up, a mistake. The cloak,” he pulled at the crest. It was very subtle as it has been embroidered with the same colour of thread as the cloak, but when you looked closely it was definitely easy to see it. He held it out for Arthur to see. “It’s got your crest on it!”
Arthur’s mouth quirked into the beginning of a smile and he replied patronisingly, “Yes, Merlin. Very good. It is my crest.”
“But-” it was Merlin’s turn to splutter. “It’s your crest!”
Arthur turned and opened the door and then started down the stairs. “And you’re my servant. Do keep up, Merlin!”
Arthur swaggered across the courtyard, heading in the direction of the stables as Merlin kept pace beside him. “Why are we going to the stables, Arthur?” He didn’t reply. “Arthur, where are we going?”
Arthur carried on ignoring Merlin’s questions as he walked into the stables and Merlin followed on his heels. Arthur greeted both Llamrei and Hengroen who we both instantly vying for his attention as soon as he had walked in and near to their stalls. He pet them both with a smile. “Merlin, go fetch your horse,” he commanded.
Merlin frowned at him. He didn’t have a horse. Arthur knew that. Maybe he meant that sable mare, Jessie, that he had been riding lately? Merlin grabbed a bridle and started to head off down to Jessie’s stall.
“Wrong way, Merlin.” Arthur called, rubbing Hengroen’s nose.
Merlin had reached Jessie’s stall and started to slip the bridle on her. “No, Sire. I’m in the right place. I normally take Jessie, these days.”
Arthur strode over to him and physically turned him around. “Down here, Merlin.”
He guided Merlin down the stalls until he was in front of Arthur’s new mare. “Arthur- this is your horse,” Merlin said with a confused look. “Who – I hasten to mention – doesn’t even have a name.”
“No, she’s not.” Arthur said, he had returned to Hengroen and Llamrei who were both nosing their master and sniffing him for any possible food. “She’s your horse, Merlin. Why don’t you name her? You can call her ‘Horsie’ or ‘Blackie’ for all I care.”
Merlin looked at him for several long moments, dumbfounded.
Arthur grinned at him.“Happy Birthday, Merlin.”
Arthur could tell the exact moment that everything finally clicked for Merlin and a manic grin, which crinkled his eyes to barely open slits, spread across his face. He flung himself at Arthur and hugged him tightly. Arthur’s arms just hung there for a minute before he awkwardly patted Merlin on the back. “There, there, Merlin. Why don’t you go back and see to ‘Horsie’.”
Merlin pulled away with an offended look on his face “Psht! As if I would name a horse as gorgeous as this ‘Horsie’! She’s perfect,” he said as he took several steps over to her. “And she’s obviously called Aster.”
Merlin smiled softly and pressed his forehead against the horse as he rubbed his hand along her neck. Arthur smiled at the sight. Both Merlin and the horse were obviously besotted with each other. They’re going to make a great team. Arthur had thought so the moment he’d spotted the mare, when he’d started on his quest of finding a horse for Merlin. She was from good stock (but not so good that questions would be asked) and so she would be able to keep up with the patrols and any journeys the Knights went on. Plus she had a good and even temperament, meaning she was both reliable and hardworking. Personally, Arthur enjoyed a horse that was a bit of a handful and had a bit of fire in them. But he’d been watching Merlin with the horses and whilst it had been clear that Merlin could handle most of them with ease. He always seemed to enjoy himself more on the even tempered ones.
It had taken a bit of searching to find the perfect horse and Merlin hadn’t had a clue Arthur was doing it. He knew that it had all been worth it though, when he had seen the look of pure delight and happiness on Merlin’s face when he’d wished him a happy birthday and he’d realised that the horse was for him.
“Aster. Greek for ‘Star’“, Arthur mused aloud and then his grin turned wicked. “Like I said, it’s your horse.”
Merlin looked up at him, he looked a little cross, but perhaps that’s because he’d been interrupted from his love-fest with Aster. “Hey! What’s wrong with Aster!?” he exclaimed, he almost sounded outraged on behalf of the horse.
“Nothing,” Arthur replied evenly.
“No, seriously, Arthur. What’s wrong with the name Aster?” asked Merlin insistently.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, Merlin,” replied Arthur struggling to keep a straight face.
Merlin’s face was crestfallen. “But you hate it?”
Arthur sighed loudly. “No, Merlin. I don’t hate it, she’s your horse you can call her what you like.”
“But if you hated the name you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” he asked, concerned.
With a roll of his eyes Arthur came over to Merlin and held him by the shoulder. “Yes, Merlin. I would tell you if I hated her name.”
Merlin let out sigh of relief. “Alright then.”
Arthur smiled at him and nodded. “If that’s quite everything, Merlin, you can have the rest of the day off.”
Merlin grinned at him again, still delighted with Aster. “Thanks.”
Upon his return to the castle, Arthur heard Merlin’s footsteps hurrying behind him. “I told you you could have the night off, Merlin.”
Merlin settled in to walk alongside him. “I know,” he said, matching pace. “It’s just… I just realised something. I think… and I’m probably going a bit mad by even saying this… But I think I would rather spend my birthday with you. You’re the only one who even remembered that actually was my birthday. Even Gaius forgot. Although he was out for a lot of the day and did lose a patient which he hates. So that’s probably why it slipped his mind. And Mother, well she did remember, of course. She sent me some new socks a few days ago. But it’s not the same as someone actually wishing you a happy birthday on the day, is it? And Gwaine… well. He didn’t say anything, pissed as fart and rather worse for wear. Neither did Sir Leon or Percival and they were perfectly sober...”
“Merlin?”
“Yes, Arthur?”
“Shut up.” Arthur put an arm around Merlin’s shoulder and tugged him closer to him. “Better. Now stop complaining, I remembered. And I seem to recall that I gave you and I quote a perfect horse as a present. Now let’s go back to my chambers and get drunk celebrating the anniversary of your birth.”
“Yeah,” breathed Merlin, as he looked at Arthur and slowly grinned. “Yeah, I think I’d quite like that.”
When they arrived back in Arthur chambers, Merlin went to sit down in a chair, his feet brushed against some clothing on the floor. “Arthur,” he called. “Why are my breeches in your chambers?”
