Work Text:
Arthur sat at his desk, going over the route he and his knights would be taking. A sorcerer had been spotted to the south of Camelot, headed towards the castle. Arthur was meant to apprehend the sorcerer and bring him back to Camelot for judgement and execution. This sorcerer had attacked three villages already, and his proximity to Camelot could cause panic. Steps had to be taken to prevent--
CLANG!
A plate of food crash-landed on the table, covering Arthur's maps and plans. Arthur slowly raised his head to behold his clumsy manservant.
"Can't you see that I'm busy, Merlin?"
Merlin frowned. "You've been staring at those crumbling bits of paper all day. You barely touched your lunch. How are you supposed to catch this dangerous sorcerer if you're dying of hunger?"
Before Arthur could respond, Merlin turned abruptly and marched toward Arthur's bed, where there was a pile of clean clothes waiting to be folded and put away.
Arthur let out an exaggerated sigh and dug into the food. The truth was he was grateful for Merlin insisting that he eat. He was so focused on the safety of the people that he had forgotten to eat. The food also happened to be quite good.
After a few minutes of silence--Arthur devouring the food and Merlin sorting clothes--Merlin came up to Arthur's desk, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Arthur sat back in his chair and looked expectantly at Merlin. After Merlin didn't say anything for a few moments, Arthur cleared his throat.
Merlin jumped to attention.
"Why have you stopped tossing my clothes into the wardrobe or whatever it is that you are doing?" Arthur asked.
"I have a question..." Merlin's voice trailed off. "Ah, no. It's stupid."
"Oh, no, Merlin," Arthur said, his voice filled with sarcasm, "There are no stupid questions. Please, tell me what's on your mind."
Arthur was, in reality, quite curious about what Merlin wanted to ask, though he didn't doubt that it was stupid.
Merlin opened his mouth and then closed it again before speaking. "What's your favourite colour?"
Arthur blinked. "My what?"
"Your favourite colour," Merlin repeated.
Arthur stared at his manservant. Really? Favourite colour. That was a stupid question. But Arthur couldn't stop himself from saying:
"Why do you want to know?"
Merlin shrugged. "Why shouldn't I want to know?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. Trust Merlin to answer a question with a question.
"It's red," Arthur said, an old memory of a favourite red blanket surfacing in his mind.
"Mine is sapphire blue," Merlin said reverently. He turned away again, as if having never asked the question.
Arthur watched Merlin continue his work. Why had he wanted to know Arthur's favourite colour? And why did he say his own? Merlin was a strange person. But Arthur thought that his strangeness might be why he was still working for Arthur.