Chapter Text
Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur.
That being said, the first rule to know when staying in Camelot is that if the Court Sorcerer and King are pulled apart for any reason, it is best to stay clear of the King. Especially in the mornings. He will not be in a good mood and only the most important matters should be brought to him. This is even more crucial on the occasions when Merlin is attending to matters outside of the castle because it results in a worried, frustrated, and angry king, and no one will be spared.
It is not a secret that Gaius hates council meetings. He only attends them when absolutely necessary because he is very busy and also very old and doesn’t have time to deal with grain reports and bickering council members. It has been months since he attended a meeting, but he was unable to maneuver his way out of this one because of an ailment running through the lower town. To say he is not pleased is to put it lightly.
He is staring at the ceiling, running through the ingredients he needs for a potion when the door slams shut behind a wheezing Gwaine. The sound echoes through the council room, the occupants sitting at the round table in the center staring at him with little concern. Gwaine is always up to something. They had all grown used to it years ago, even Gaius.
“What is it now, Gwaine?” Elyan drawls without moving his eyes from the game of chess he is playing with Leon.
“Merlin had to go into town this morning,” Gwaine says, still gasping for air.
Leon moves his knight, stealing one of Elyan’s rooks. He notes that Gwaine is in obvious need of more training. All of that drinking must be getting to him. “Is he okay?”
Gwaine looks bewildered. “What are you talking about? Of course, Merlin is okay.”
“Then what is this about, Gwaine?” Lancelot asks, having watched the entire conversation with amusement.
Gwaine stares at them like they are all incredibly stupid. They are, in his opinion. “Merlin went into town this morning. That means he was not here to wake Arthur,” he says slowly.
The room freezes, any previous commotion coming to an abrupt halt. Elyan's hand hangs above the chessboard, ready to move his Queen. Leon watches with a horror that has nothing to do with the fact that he is about to lose the game. Lancelot drops his goblet of water, barely managing to stop it from spilling all over the table. Percival looks to the sky as if praying. Gwen stops sewing a pair of socks. Some of the council members look like they are ready to bolt. One, Lord Francis, crawls under the table.
“How long do we have?” Gwen manages to ask.
“Last I heard he was heading here from his chambers. I’d say two minutes at most,” Gwaine warns, glad they are finally understanding the direness of the situation.
That puts everyone into motion. Gwen shoves her socks and needles into a basket at her feet. Elyan and Leon swipe the chessboard off the table, Elyan diving when a piece clatters on the ground. Lord Bryon whispers to Lord Samuel about hiding behind the drapery.
Gaius stares at them with an iconic raise of his eyebrow. “What are you all on about? King Arthur has other people who can wake him. Merlin isn’t his manservant anymore. Lord Francis, get out from under the table, and there will be no hiding behind the drapery, Lord Bryon. For goodness sake, he can’t be that bad. It will be fine.”
Lancelot, who is supposed to be noble and brave, shakes his head furiously. “No, Gaius. It won’t.” He continues to adjust his goblet and help Gwen hide the sewing between their chairs.
Gwaine takes his seat, which is far too close to the King’s in his opinion—only two spots over—and makes himself look like he hasn't had anything to drink yet this morning. He certainly has, but best not make it obvious to Arthur. “We are all going to die.”
“Aren’t you lot supposed to be brave? It’s Arthur, not the executioner,” Gaius says, his eyebrows not able to raise any higher.
“I’d rather the executioner,” Leon says solemnly. Just as Gaius is about to speak again, probably to admonish them some more, there is a loud bang outside of the room, some yelling, and more clashing.
“He’s coming,” Lord Francis whispers, his head popping up from the table.
Gwen sits up straight. “Everyone look natural. Don’t comment on how he looks. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t look him in the eye. And do not look at Merlin’s chair or make references to him.”
Nobody breathes as the door slams open once again, revealing a disheveled, red-faced King Arthur. Part of his hair is sticking up in the back, his shirt remains tucked oddly on his side, and one shoe is untied. “Well, what are you all looking at? Seems to me like you were all lazing around, waiting for me to get here,” he snaps as he strides toward his seat. “And where the hell is my food? I told George to have it brought here. George?!”
George, bless his heart, comes running into the room carrying a plate of food in one hand and a stack of parchment in the other. “My apologies, sire. I have your food.”
He places the food in front of the King and the parchment to the side with only a slight tremor. Arthur stares at the tray for a moment before turning his gaze back to George who shrinks away. “There are no biscuits on this plate. Why the hell aren’t there any biscuits on my plate?”
“I’m sorry, sire. I did not know—”
“Merlin knows! He always makes sure I have biscuits!”
“I will go get some immediately. Elena has the wine you requested—”
“Then, go!” Arthur shouts, watching as George bolts from the room. The maid, Elena, steps forward to pour wine into his goblet. Arthur takes a long sip before returning his attention to the occupants in the room. “Well, let’s get on with it. I don’t have all day to watch you all sit by idly.”
Gaius clears his throat, the only one brave enough to speak, “Good morning, sire. You asked me to this meeting to discuss the ailment spreading through the lower towns. I think—”
Arthur puts a hand up, rummaging through some of the parchment haphazardly. “No. Stop. My reports aren’t in order. Why aren’t they in order? George?!” When George doesn’t answer, he yells again, “George?! Where is he now?”
“You sent him to the kitchen for biscuits, your majesty,” Gaius answers. Gaius does not seem to understand what he did wrong as the rest of the room flinches.
Arthur turns slowly, the expression on his face making Gaius realize why Gwen said not to speak unless spoken to. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Arthur was about to put him in the dungeons. “I am perfectly aware, Gaius. Thank you for stating the obvious as always. However, whether or not George is getting me biscuits, my reports still aren’t in order, and I can’t conduct this meeting. So, if you don’t have anything important to say, don’t waste my time with useless babble!”
In other news, Gaius is never letting Merlin leave the castle again.
Arthur’s attention doesn’t stay on him long for which Gaius is grateful. He turns to Leon, sitting at his left. “Leon, tell me about the patrols in the south that you mentioned yesterday. You said you’d have a report ready for me today.” Leon nods, rummaging through his own reports to find the one he needs. “Before I grow old and die, Leon!” Leon starts rambling about bandit attacks and the number of men needed. Arthur ignores the food on his plate in favor of drinking more of his wine as he listens.
Leon is nearly finished when the door swings open for a third time. There is an audible sigh of relief as Merlin walks in, carrying a tray of biscuits, his own stack of parchment, and the bag he constantly carries around filled with miscellaneous items that everyone knows not to ask about. The answers are never worth it.
He kicks the door closed and raises an eyebrow when he spots Arthur. “Why do you look like that? I’ve only been gone for three hours, and I come back to the castle in complete disarray and you looking like you fell out of bed, had a tumble with the floor, and left your room that way. What happened, Arthur?”
“Why do I—What happened—Merlin! Where the hell have you been?” Arthur’s face is red again, but Merlin doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he takes his time sauntering to his seat which is conveniently placed to the right of Arthur’s.
“I had that meeting with Annabelle at the bakery. I told you yesterday.”
“You did not!”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “Yes, I did after training, on our way to your chambers. Remember?”
Arthur huffs as Merlin places the biscuits in front of him, which means Merlin is right.
Merlin turns to the rest of the table, taking in the mixture of mirth and exasperation present among its occupants. And a bit of fear from Lord Francis, who looks like he may pee himself. “Give us a minute,” he says, his gaze returning to Arthur. “Why do you look like this? I sent George.”
“I don’t like George,” Arthur grumbles.
Merlin snorts. “That much is obvious since he was crying when I found him with your stupid biscuits. Now, get up!” He gestures for Arthur to stand. Arthur stares at him incredulously. “Come on! We don’t have all day. I have more pressing matters to deal with than your pouting.”
“I am the King—” He chokes as Merlin shoves a biscuit into his mouth.
“And I’m Merlin. Hi. Now that we have that covered, stand up so I can make you look presentable.”
When he starts tugging on Arthur’s arms, Arthur sighs loudly but does as Merlin asks. Merlin gets to work quickly. “I wouldn’t have to send George if you didn’t fire your previous ten manservants.” He waves a hand to tie the left shoe that he is surprised the King didn’t manage to trip on and untucks his shirt, running his hands over Arthur's chest and shoulders to straighten it.
“They were horrible. What was I supposed to do?” Arthur says between bites of his biscuit.
“Rumor has it you’re the horrible one, and I’m inclined to believe it. You are a dollophead, after all.” When he finishes with the shirt, he begins on Arthur’s hair. Arthur leans his head forward slightly so Merlin can reach better.
“And you’re a clotpole!”
Merlin rolls his eyes. “I’ll speak to Sylvia. She runs the interviews. I’ll sit in on them and pick the next one. Does that sound agreeable?” He grips Arthur’s face gently, adjusting his head so that he is facing Merlin again.
The tenseness in Arthur’s shoulders fades, a much more relaxed expression replacing it. “I suppose. Try not to pick someone as horrible as you were.”
Merlin grins. “Only the best for you, sire.”
Arthur smiles back, if only because Merlin is smiling.
Merlin steps away and glances over his work. “Much better. You look like a real king now.”
“I always look like a real king because I am the King, Merlin.” Arthur takes his seat at Merlin’s insistence. Merlin remains standing, his fretting having just begun.
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.” He pulls Arthur’s reports from the table, sitting them to his right and replacing them with the plate of food, before setting his eyes on the goblet. He shakes his head, picking it up and moving it away from Arthur.
Arthur makes a grab for it but misses. “What are you doing? That’s my wine!”
“Not before dinner, it’s not,” Merlin says, indignantly.
“You can’t—”
“Here you go, Gwaine.”
Gwaine smiles. “Thanks, Merls!”
Arthur growls. “Why does he get wine, but I don’t?”
Merlin moves the empty goblet set out for him in front of Arthur, gesturing for Elena to fill it. “Just water, Elena. Please and thank you. Gwaine can hold his liquor any time of day. You can’t. If you drink before sunset, you’ll be an absolute arse, and I won’t be dealing with that today or any day for that matter.” Arthur gapes at him. Merlin gestures toward the plate again as he picks up Arthur’s reports. “Eat more than just biscuits. Wouldn’t want to add another hole to that belt.”
“I am not fat!”
“Continue eating the way you do and you won’t be able to say that.”
“Continue eating the way you do and you’ll fade to nothing! Honestly, Merlin, have you eaten anything today?”
“I will in a bit,” Merlin murmurs, already scanning the pages. “Does anyone have a quill? I doubt Arthur remembered to bring his.” Gwen smiles and offers hers. “Thanks, Gwen. Will you be free after dinner? I have some things I need to run over with you.” Merlin takes the quill and writes something on the report while simultaneously spearing a sausage and shoving it in Arthur’s face.
“Of course, Merlin. I’ll find you when I’m finished in the kitchens if that is suitable,” she says.
“That’s perfect. Thank you.”
Arthur takes the fork from him, eating half of the sausage more aggressively than necessary before shoving the other half towards Merlin. Merlin accepts it without hesitation, eating the other half and handing the fork back to Arthur as he continues writing.
Arthur spears another sausage. “What did Annabelle say?”
“That it’s doable, but she would need a fortnight.”
“That’s cutting it close.”
“I know, so I offered the services of Mary and Isaac. She said with two extra workers she might be able to finish a few days earlier.” Merlin sets the first few reports that he finished back in front of Arthur, who skims through them as he offers Merlin the fork again.
“Why would you send Isaac to work in a bakery? Isn’t he a stable boy?” Arthur asks, taking the fork back when Merlin is finished.
“Yes, but the kitchens could only spare one worker, and Lady Eleanor had mentioned that Isaac is an adept baker. He’s been trying to work his way into the kitchens for a while now. I figure this will be a good test run.”
Arthur hums, shoving a grape toward Merlin. “And did you set up the—”
“Meeting with the western Druids?” Merlin finishes, not glancing up as he takes the grape and scribbles another note. “Yes. I’m meeting them next Wednesday. I’m going to try to free your schedule so that you can come along.”
“Of course I’m coming,” Arthur says, offering Merlin a cheese and a grape because he knows the warlock likes the pairing. “Elena, could you fetch us some more grapes and cheese?”
“Of course, sire.” Elena bows, scurrying toward the door.
Merlin eyes Arthur with a frown. Arthur huffs. “Thank you, Elena.”
Elena startles and turns back around. “It’s an honor, sire.” She bows again before leaving the room.
Merlin smiles and reaches into his bag for another smaller pouch. He plucks out four sweetmeats, placing them on the plate before closing the pouch and shoving it back into his bag.
Arthur grins. “Are these—”
“Your favorites. I got them from Annabelle before I left. You can have the rest after dinner. Any more and you’ll get a stomach ache. You won’t want that with training later.”
Arthur snatches one from the plate, offering Merlin another grape and cheese before plopping it into his mouth. “What about the—”
“I have a meeting with Audrey to finalize the menu tomorrow afternoon. Much to my chagrin, mind you.”
Arthur smirks. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I heard she has a crush on you.”
Merlin glares at him, not at all amused. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. I’ll need you to look it over. She likes to have your approval.”
Arthur waves his hand, offering Merlin another piece of cheese and then shoving it closer to him when he doesn’t notice right away. “Just tell her I did. I don’t know those things as well as you do. Whatever you pick will be fine.”
“Are you admitting to not knowing something?”
“I said as well as you do, not that I don’t know at all. You’ve been doing it for years, and I never look it over. Did you—”
“It’s been dealt with. I sent a message to Lord Manson’s cousin. And the—”
“I sent the letter last night after you went to sleep. It'll be at least two weeks before we hear back from Lot.” Arthur takes a drink from the goblet before handing it to Merlin.
Merlin sips some water and sets it back down. “We have to contact—”
“Brior. I know. I’m working on it. He’s such a toad, though.”
Merlin snorts. “I know. I still think you should give the title to his wife instead. She’s a lovely lady and runs most of the estate anyway.”
“I’m considering it. It’s unconventional but—”
“You’re the king and can do what you want,” Merlin mimics.
Arthur grins. “Exactly. Only took you years to figure it out, Merlin.”
Merlin rolls his eyes again—a common action in Arthur’s presence—and hands the final stack of parchment to him. “There. All in order with my notes. Sorry I didn’t finish that last night. I forgot before falling asleep.”
Arthur smiles softly. “It’s okay. It’s not technically your job. I’m glad you got some sleep. You haven’t been getting enough. Come sit.” He pulls Merlin’s chair as close to his as possible—which he does every meeting and it’s starting to irritate him that someone keeps moving it back because Merlin belongs right next to him. Merlin doesn’t comment, expecting it, and takes his seat. Arthur pushes the plate and goblet directly between them, watching carefully as Merlin finally reaches for some food himself.
When Merlin seems content eating more of the food and Elena sets down another plate of cheese and grapes between them, Arthur finishes glancing through the reports and faces the table again. “Sir Leon, if you don’t mind, we will get back to the bandit problem in a moment.”
“Of course, sire,” Leon says, a look of awe on his face.
Arthur smiles. “Good. Gaius, you said something about the ailment in the lower towns. What is the update?’
Gaius, who is very old and very busy but also always put together, splutters. Gaius doesn’t splutter. He gives expressions of disapproval, inspiring fear in men with merely his eyebrows. But he does not splutter.
Merlin pauses halfway to reaching for more cheese and looks at Gaius concernedly. “Gaius, are you not feeling well? You seem a bit dazed.”
Gaius looks around at the other members of the round table, searching for answers. He merely receives shrugs and a few chuckles hidden behind coughs. He shakes his head, looking to the skies for mercy, knowing he’ll receive none.
“Gaius?” Arthur asks, patiently. A far cry from earlier.
“I’m fine. No need to worry. About the ailment...”
The rest of the meeting goes smoothly. Lancelot whispers to Gwen that they ought to buy Merlin something special. Gwen nods in agreement, passing the sentiment on to Elyan who passes it around the table while Merlin and Arthur remain oblivious as they argue with Lord Misnor about the grain report.
When the meeting ends, Merlin claps his hands together. “Well, this was fun. Arthur, dismiss everyone so you can apologize to George and get ready to take audiences. You have training afterward, and I have a meeting with that sorcerer from Caerleon.”
“I’m not apologizing to George.”
“You will if you want more sweetmeats.”
Arthur looks at the pouch before sighing. “Fine. But I still hate him—”
Merlin nods. “I know. I do too.”
“—And, I don’t want you meeting that sorcerer without guards. Gwaine and Leon will accompany you.” Gwaine and Leon agree immediately. “His meeting is at five. I expect you both there with at least four other guards.”
Merlin scoffs. “That’s excessive. I’m the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth. The Druids said so.”
“You tripped over your own shoes last night and got tangled in my travel bag. You almost suffocated yourself.”
Merlin glares. Arthur stares, waiting.
Merlin huffs. “Fine, but only because I know you’ll worry. This has nothing to do with the bag incident which you had promised you would never mention again."
Arthur rolls his eyes, feeling as though he is behind Merlin in their race to see who can roll their eyes the most. “You are coming with me to the throne room for the audiences, right?”
“Of course I am. People don’t like to come when I’m not there because they say you're grouchy and mean.”
Arthur gasps. “I am not! I can handle myself perfectly fine without you. I’m downright pleasant, in fact, because I don’t have to deal with your endless babbling!”
Merlin raises an eyebrow.
“Ask them!” Arthur says, gesturing to the rest of the table.
They stare at him blankly. Gaius shakes his head again. Leon coughs.
Merlin smirks. “Ha! Told you!”
Arthur gapes, leaving a perfect opportunity for Merlin to shove another biscuit in his mouth. He stands up, grabbing both of their stacks of parchment and his bag. “Come on, Arthur. We’ve got a busy day, and you can’t keep lazing about.”
“I didn’t dismiss you!” Arthur shouts as Merlin reaches the door.
Merlin looks back with a smirk. “You never do, sire.” Nevertheless, Merlin waits for him as Arthur dismisses the table and follows him out.
“That's because whenever you aren’t in my presence, you are up to no good, Merlin. No good! You come back with bruises or cuts or you burn my things—”
“That was one time!”
“One time too many!”
The door shuts behind them, their arguing growing fainter as they walk away. Some of the advisors scurry out, but the knights stay. And Gwen, who has pulled her sewing back out.
Gaius, who is still confused about many things and thinks he ought to leave the physician chambers more often because for all the talking Merlin seems to do when he visits him, he does not tell Gaius anything, is trying to decide whether or not he should ask the questions he is thinking or keep them to himself and try not to have nightmares tonight.
“Go on, Gaius,” Gwaine says, drinking the rest of his wine and gesturing to him expectantly.
It seems he will have to ask then. These are the only people he will get a straight answer from anyway. “They were sharing food.” It’s not a question, he supposes, but they seem to understand him.
“They do that,” Percival says.
“Never in his life has Arthur shared anything,” Gaius states like this is a well-known fact. It is.
“He shares with Merlin,” Elyan says. “But only Merlin.”
Gwaine pouts. “One time I tried to take one of the Princess’ sausages and he put his sword to my neck.”
“But he was feeding him like they are married,” Gaius says, still utterly confused.
Lancelot laughs. “They do that all the time. Almost every day, in fact. Arthur knows that Merlin is forgetful when it comes to eating, so he’s asked the kitchens to always give him extra servings so that he can force-feed Merlin.”
Gwen smiles. “It’s so sweet.”
Gaius shakes his head. “He’s always been forgetful like that.” Then, he remembers his other questions. "And the chair?"
Gwaine laughs. "Arthur can't stand when Merlin isn't in touching distance. Speaking of, Elena, could you mention to whoever cleans the room to not move Merlin's chair back? Princess looked like he was about to throw a hissy fit when he saw that it was moved again."
Elena nods and fills up his glass with more water.
Gaius feels like that doesn't really answer anything, if only raising several more questions, but continues on. “Why is Merlin running to bakeries and supervising feast menus? Are those not jobs of the Queen or, in the absence of, the Head of Household?”
There is a long moment of staring which makes Gaius feel like that was an incredibly stupid question.
“Gaius, do you ever leave your room?” Gwaine asks.
Gaius scoffs. “I’ll have you know, Sir Gwaine, that I am a very busy man.”
“Don’t lie, Gaius. We know you avoid these meetings as much as possible. This is the first one you’ve been to in months.”
Leon steps in before Gaius can argue that he does not avoid anything, even though it is clearly a lie. “Merlin has been running the household since around the time Uther died. The previous Head of Household retired not long after his death, and Arthur never appointed another. People started coming to Merlin for questions so he could direct them to Arthur but Arthur was often busy so he left it to Merlin.”
Gaius raises an eyebrow. “He’s been doing this for three years? He still would’ve been Arthur’s manservant at the time.”
Percival nods. “And before Arthur knew about his magic. But he trusts Merlin with it, and, to be fair, Merlin does an amazing job.”
“That’s why we call him the Queen when he’s not in the room,” Gwaine says, a smirk gracing his face.
Gaius chooses to ignore that for his own sanity. “But I thought Gwen is at these meetings because she is the Head of Household?”
Gwen looks up from her sewing and shakes her head. “No. That’s Merlin. Everyone knows this, Gaius. I’m his right hand. When Merlin took on the job of Court Sorcerer too, he was so busy that he wasn’t sleeping. Arthur found out and was infuriated. He told Merlin to delegate jobs to me when needed. Merlin always asks me politely though, as if I’d ever tell him no.”
Gaius considers this. “So Merlin is Court Sorcerer, Head of Household, my apprentice, and Arthur’s part-time manservant and advisor?”
“Yes,” Lancelot says. “That's why we always ask him if he needs any help when we see him. He’s not really Arthur’s manservant though. He just does some of the jobs like helping him get dressed and making sure the right food is sent to him because Arthur only likes it when Merlin does those things.”
“He does the jobs that Arthur’s wife would. So, we just say that he’s the Court Sorcerer, physician’s apprentice, and Queen in all but marriage. Between the two of them, they run the whole kingdom,” Percival adds, receiving more nods that show Gaius that they are all completely serious about this.
“I should get a new apprentice,” Gaius says, voicing his thoughts aloud.
“Merlin likes spending time with you,” Gwen says. “He’d tell you he doesn’t mind, but hiring someone else would be helpful. You’ll have to tell him that you still need his help, but that he can’t take over as physician when you retire so you have to train someone else. If you don’t, he’ll think you are upset with him and overwork himself to please you.”
Gaius agrees with this. Merlin is tricky when it comes to telling him that he is working too hard.
“If they would stop dancing around each other, he would be Queen in actual name, and it would be much easier on him," Gwaine says. "This is getting ridiculous. The sexual tension is through the roof. Do you hear the way he calls Arthur sire?”
Gaius looks forlornly at the door. “They are hopeless.”
Lancelot nods. “Yes. They are also oblivious.”
“And an honest to God mess.” Gwen laughs.
Gwaine shakes his head. “But the lesson here, Gaius, is that it’s very important that Merlin is the one to wake Arthur in the morning. Other manservants make him very angry at that time of day. He doesn’t like anyone but Merlin to help him get ready. So, we go out of our way, using our limited powers, to make sure that happens.”
There is a moment of silence and consideration before Elyan speaks. “What should we buy Merlin?”
“I think he needs a new pair of traveling boots. I’m sure he’d love that.”
“Okay. Everyone has to put some money in. That includes you, Francis. Don’t think I don’t see you under the table.”
“Two sides to the same coin,” Gaius murmurs to himself, almost reverently. Regardless, he’s learned his lesson. He’s never attending one of these meetings without Merlin present again.
Merlin loves the boots and is only a little confused about the gift. Arthur, feeling outdone, has a cloak personalized for him.