how to impress a king...
Part 1:
Merlin watches with amusement as the fourth course of the meal is brought in. Arthur's knights exchange what they must think are subtle glances of despair, except Gwaine who is grinning broadly. Arthur just pats his mouth with his napkin as Merlin removes his plate and goes on discussing grain with Lord Lyonnes. Merlin smirks and lays a new plate, piled high with meat, in front of Arthur.
"...thank you, Merlin, so you see, if we were to increase..."
Merlin withdraws to stand by the wall, smiling as Lord Lyonnes praises his kitchen and implores Arthur to try more of the meat and wine provided. Arthur agrees with an inadvisable politeness. Merlin's pretty sure Arthur's going to bed with a sore stomach tonight. Even Sir Percival is flagging in keeping up with the courses.
After the fourth there's a pause and Merlin notes the relief on the knights' faces, smiling secretly in his knowledge that there's at least one more course. Lord Lyonnes stands and Arthur pushes back his chair a little in preparation to rise.
"Now, we will pause for breath and have some entertainment!"
There are cheers as a jester dances to the centre of the tables and Merlin claps. He loves the entertainment, as long as he's not it. He remembers the moment in Annis's castle when Arthur had demanded that of him and grins at the remembered look of shock on Arthur's face when he juggled.
The jester is good but Merlin is distracted by Arthur's demanding hand in the air and hastens forward with his wine jug. Arthur covers his goblet and lifts his chin to indicate he wishes to whisper so Merlin bends a little closer.
"My Lord?"
"How formal, Merlin. Yes, well. I hope this is the end of the feast, delicious though it was."
"I am afraid not."
"You sound so very sorry."
"Well, if I can't eat the 'delicious' food I do enjoy seeing those privileged to do so suffer a little."
Arthur waves him away with a scowl but Merlin catches the glint of amusement that lets him know he hasn't over stepped. Arthur's been rather more lax about that since marrying Gwen. Merlin's been getting away with more and more. A few months ago he dared hit Arthur, with very little consequence. He grins at the memory as the fifth course is carried in in the jester's wake.
Merlin sets Arthur's plate before him and feels a flash of sympathy at Arthur's dismayed expression, quickly covered, at more meat.
"This, my Lord, is from a brace of pheasants caught by my own son. He was very excited that you would be tasting his hunt but had to withdraw early as he is still young."
"How many winters is he now? I remember him as just a babe in arms."
"He is eleven winters this month, my Lord."
"Ah, I remember that time well. I caught my first deer at eleven."
Merlin frowns. He's pretty sure Arthur usually boasts that he's been hunting since birth and caught a deer at six. He also distinctly remembers a drunk Sir Leon talking of Arthur's first campaign at barely eleven winters.
"Alain is still hoping for that honour, my Lord. He will be glad of heart to know he is not far behind your lordship in that respect, it has worried him greatly."
Arthur nods, calm and lying through his teeth.
"He need not fret. Many do not catch a deer well into their twenties! I have knights who are yet to bag their first deer."
Lord Lyonnes seems pleased by this and the next time Arthur brings up an increase of grain for Lord Lyonnes's people, the Lord agrees. Merlin shakes his head, wondering how so many people are charmed by Arthur.
"The next course will go down well, I hope. We will eat gilded apples. Bring out the food!"
Part 2:
The servants scurry around and Merlin sighs, clearing Arthur's plate, at the look of slight discomfort on Arthur's face.
"Maybe you should beg pardon, sire. I believe there is little space left in even your stomach."
Arthur glares and Merlin backs away quickly. He notes that the knights refuse more than a taste of the course, excluding Gwaine who tucks in with a smile so wide Merlin's surprised his face doesn't split. He places Arthur's own plate, piled high in honour of the king, in front of him.
"My Lord, perhaps I must withdraw after this. We ride tomorrow and it is a long journey."
"Sire, I must insist! I would beg a few more moments of your time. For next on the menu is..."
Merlin doesn't hear what is next as Sir Leon taps his shoulder and he has to turn away and stop eaves dropping. Which is the duty of a servant, Merlin feels. He must know his master's mind.
"Sir Leon."
"Merlin, I believe I must withdraw. This food is rich and I am full."
"Yes, well, I think it would do us all good to stop eating. Perhaps not me as I haven't eaten yet. But all of you. How much food is there!"
"I believe there are four more courses and then three sweets."
"Oh. Wow."
"Yes. If you could inform Arthur?"
"Of the amount of food?"
"That I had to withdraw, Merlin!"
"Oh! Sorry, of course."
Leon pauses as he walks away and returns.
"I... um... I think it would be wise to warn Arthur of the food situation as well. Lord Lyonnes likes to press his guests to eat and Arthur would feel it to be a slight to refuse."
"Oh dear. Thanks."
Merlin turns back and, on the pretence of filling his goblet, warns Arthur and informs him of his knight's withdrawal. He does this several times as each knight bows out, even Gwaine. Arthur always waves him away and returns to Lyonnes, eating and drinking at his bequest. Merlin sighs and resigns himself to a night of discomfort. Lyonnes own men seem used to this kind of dining and eat but a little of each course. Arthur, though, is pressed to finish each plate and each plate is filled to impress him.
By the time he finally withdraws, Merlin at his back, he strides from the hall and then leans against the stone wall groaning with an arm about his stomach. Merlin laughs. He can't help it. He'd done sympathy earlier, tried to talk Arthur into leaving and even made a few helpful suggestions of eating less. This was Arthur's own fault.
"Prideful idiot. You could have just said 'thanks but no thanks'. Or told him you were-"
"Shut up. Help me to my room, seeing as you are my servant."
"I will not! I will help you, but only because you are my friend."
Arthur smiles briefly and Merlin tucks himself under Arthur's arm, steering the king to the chambers prepared. It's freezing and Merlin realises that while everyone has been feasting no one thought to light Arthur's fire. He helps Arthur lie on the bed and bends to do it himself.
"Stupid place. Who forgets to light a fire? Especially at this time when the winter is still clinging. It's freezing in here!"
"Mm. It is indeed. Do something about that, would you Merlin?"
"I'm lighting your fire already, prat."
"Been a while since you called me that."
"It's been a while since you deserved it. But eating too much out of pride-"
"I was being polite. Not that you'd know anything about that."
"My mother always told me I have beautiful manners, thank you very much."
"Your mother... actually, I have nothing bad to say about her. She's wonderful."
Merlin smiles as the fire catches. Arthur really is a charmer.
"That won't excuse you from my amusement, Arthur. Stop trying to charm yourself out of my mocking."
He turns to see Arthur blinking at him in confusion and realises he might have been being genuine.
"What? I wasn't... oh. She really is... Merlin!"
"Sorry. Why did you tell Lyonnes you caught a deer only when you reached eleven winters?"
Arthur snorts and rolls onto his back, winces and returns to his side. His expression turns woeful and he gives Merlin his most pathetic expression.
"I'm coming, stop moping at me."
Part 3:
Merlin kicks off his boot and turns briefly to warm his front at the fire before crawling to the centre of the bed. Arthur curls up against his chest and closes his eyes, hands running over the warmth of Merlin's clothes.
"His son is his weak spot. The boy is not the most skilled hunter. His worth lies elsewhere. I'm courting him."
"Courting him?"
Merlin pulls the turned down covers over them and rubs his hands together for warmth before placing one palm against Arthur's stomach, under his tunic. He's glad Arthur decided leaving his armour in his room would be a sign of peaceful intention and wore normal clothes instead.
"I want him to come to Camelot as a squire next fall. I think he would make a good match for Sir Percival."
Merlin snorts and rubs little circles over Arthur's stomach, enjoying the soft skin and warmth.
"Stop stealing my heat. Little thief."
Merlin pulls away his hand and Arthur moans.
"No! Put it back."
Merlin laughs but gives in to the demand. Arthur's lack of complaint means he's not just uncomfortable but in actual pain. As soon as something starts to hurt beyond a dull ache Arthur clams up and pretends he's fine.
"So, a new squire."
"Mm. He's good. I think he'll make a great knight one day. Percival can train him. Alain needs patience, he's got far too much energy and enthusiasm and, as yet, not the skill or years to temper that. It is amusing watching him fight."
"Oh good, more lost fingers. I bet you were the same at his age."
Merlin holds his breath, wondering if Arthur will give a non-committal answer or whether he'll be more open.
"Mm."
Oh. Non-committal. Merlin sighs in disappointment but Arthur distracts him by shifting, arms tightening around himself. Merlin moves from Arthur's stomach to his lower back, pressing more firmly to relax the muscles and moving over Arthur's side. Pressing on his stomach would hurt, but this way the surrounding muscles will relax. Or at least, that's Merlin's theory.
"Ah, that's good. Thank you. No, I was like that. But not at his age. My father sent me out with the knights, against Bayard, that winter."
Merlin keeps running his hand over the tense muscles, bending closer to listen.
"It was cold and I'd never been away from father... well, it was hard. Sir Leon was only a squire then, though he was knighted for his deeds. He saved my life."
"I assume you returned the favour?"
"Indeed. And I demanding to squire him."
Merlin laughs at that, imagining Uther's face and a small Arthur stamping his foot and making demands. His amusement fades at the thought of the same small boy riding to battle with his father's expectations heavy on his shoulders. Arthur sighs and Merlin realises he's drifting off. In his clothes.
"Sire, you need to change."
"Don't call me that when you're in my bed, Merlin."
"Sorry. You still can't sleep in your clothes, though."
"Demanding."
Arthur rolls up despite his protests and grumbling, letting Merlin remove his tunic and under shirt. The trousers are more difficult as it requires Arthur to stand and it obviously pains him to do so, though he barely breathes a complaint. Merlin runs a hand lightly over Arthur's curved stomach as he draws off the trousers, leaving the smalls for warmth. He lets Arthur sit as he fetches a night shirt and Arthur leans forward, face pinched, an arm wrapping around his stomach. Merlin quickly clothes him, checks the fire and strips to his own smalls. He doesn't have night clothes but Arthur refuses to let him in bed with his 'dirty peasant garb'.
Arthur curls around him again, this time with Merlin lying on his back. He can feel Arthur's stomach muscles trembling with tension against his side so he goes back to massaging, fingers tender and careful against Arthur's pain.
"Um, yeah. He let me."
"What?"
"My father. Let me squire for Leon. Only for the summer, but he allowed it. As reward I suppose."
Arthur yawns and Merlin giggles as it tickles his neck, bringing his other hand up to card through Arthur's hair. It's not long before Arthur falls asleep. Merlin continues his massage until he too drifts off.
Part 4:
Merlin's woken by a bitten off curse and the body at his wriggling. He rolls, sleepily trying to still the movement with his hands. He finds Arthur's hip and grabs it, other hand running over Arthur's face. He pauses at Arthur's nose, distracted by the line of it. It's so familiar a sight but feeling it in the dark is different. He runs a hand over Arthur's profile.
“Merlin, stop it. Pffgh.”
Merlin realises he has his fingers practically in Arthur's mouth and pulls away.
“You woke me. Prat.”
“Sorry. Ate too much.”
“How bad's the pain?”
“Just discomfort. I'm fine.”
“Sure. If you were fine you'd be moaning and complaining.”
“Shut up, Merlin.”
“Yes, Sire. Do you want me to rub your stomach?”
“I am not a dog!”
“Mm.”
Merlin runs the hand resting on Arthur's hip over his side and then shifts so he can rub gentle circles over Arthur's abdomen. Arthur's head moves restlessly and then presses into Merlin's shoulder, another bitten off sound of pain sneaking out.
“Sorry.”
“'Snot you. Stupid Lyonnes and his prideful feasts. Why do my lords believe me to have a bottomless stomach, Merlin?”
“I think they want to show off their wealth.”
“Well I wish they wouldn't. Though the servants probably got well fed tonight on the left overs.”
“Probably.”
“Speaking of servants eating, did you manage to?”
“No. I'd forgotten about that. Thank you, now I'm hungry.”
“Call for something. Though you'll have to brave the freezing stone floors. Lyonnes doesn't bother with rugs.”
“Great. And I'll have to dress. What will Lyonnes think of the gossip in the morning, otherwise?”
“That I have taken a lover. Quite respectable. I think he'd be more shocked if he realised Guinevere was quite free to do the same.”
“Has she, by the way?”
“Stop being a gossip and go get some food before my mood sours, as it is likely to do. I'm cold and uncomfortable.”
Merlin quickly shimmies out from under the covers, dragging on his clothes as quickly as he can in the freezing air. He builds up the fire and warms himself by it for a moment before leaving the chambers to snag a passing servant and ask for some cold bread and meat from the kitchens.
“Your lord is still hungry, sir?”
“Yes. You wouldn't believe how thin he used to be before he started eating like this. I think it's a disorder.”
Merlin laughs at the horrified look on the maid's face.
“Sorry, my humour needs practice. Truthfully he ordered me to use his name to get some supper. I didn't manage to eat and he treats his servants very well.”
The maid smiles and bobs a curtsy before scurrying away, wide eyed and confused. Merlin grins and hurries back to Arthur's chambers, standing by the fire to await his food.
“Who did you terrorise? You've got your I-just-realised-the-power-being-the-King's-personal-servant-gives-me face on.”
“No one!”
“Tell me. I need entertaining.”
“Fine. I told the maid you were still hungry and that I thought your constant eating was a disorder. Oh, and I implied you were fat.”
“Merlin!”
Merlin laughs and Arthur sighs in resignation.
“I suppose this is what I guess for calling us all equal. What a bad idea that was. Are you coming back?”
Merlin frowns at the strain he can hear in Arthur's voice.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
Part 5:
“I'm waiting for them to bring food so I don't have to undress and then dress again. And I'm getting warm. It's freezing!”
“I already commented as such.”
“Are you still cold?”
“Mm.”
There's a timid knock on the door and Merlin hurries across, frigid air making him speed his steps. The maid hands him a tray with a mug of ale and a plate of bread and meat. And a flower. She blushes as he picks up the flower and raises his eyebrow.
“From me, sir. For you, not your lord. Not that I... don't tell him I said that!”
She reminds Merlin of Gwen from years ago and it makes him smile, which makes her blush and curtsy nearly spilling the tray. He takes it from her before his supper hits the floor. He's hungry.
“Thank you. I'm Merlin.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What's your name? It seems I should know the name of the girl who is giving me flowers.”
“Mary, sir.”
“Merlin!”
Merlin glances back into the room, grins at Mary and she hurries away with a brief smile and another blush. Merlin sets the tray on the small table by Arthur's bed and twirls the flower. He's thinking of a little purple flower Gwen once stuck in his tunic, blushing and babbling and talking all over herself to not offend him. He misses that Gwen, sometimes. Her confidence is great but he misses his shy friend.
“Merlin.”
“Sorry. I was thinking.”
“That's always a bad idea. Did you find food?”
“Mary got me a plate.”
“Mary. Really. Is she the owner of that flower?”
“Jealousy doesn't become you, Arthur.”
“I'm not jealous.”
Merlin laughs but he decides he's teased Arthur enough. He puts the flower on the table, strips down to his smalls again and slips back into the bed.
“You're eating in bed?”
“You'd rather I not?”
“No. You're warm, I guess. Or will be, get your freezing feet away from me!”
Merlin pulls his feet away and closer to his own body, wriggling until he's a bit warmer and then pulls the tray to himself. He straightens a leg to allow Arthur to pillow his head on his thigh then digs into his meal, hand threading into Arthur's hair.
“All right, sire?”
“What have I told you about calling me that while in my bed?”
“Um, don't?”
“Exactly. And no, I'm not all right. My stomach hurts.”
Merlin pauses with a bite of meat half way to his mouth and it falls back to the plate.
“Are you admitting you're in pain?”
“I'm tired and, yes, I am in pain. Are you going to gloat?”
“No. Just, you usually don't unless you're not really. Are you feeling better?”
Part 6:
“Gods. Shut up you idiot. No, I'm not feeling better. I just thought maybe you'd have some kind of remedy. You are Gaius's apprentice after all.”
“Sure. I have a remedy. Don't eat until you're about to pop.”
Arthur hits his knee then groans and presses his face into Merlin's leg. Merlin rubs his back between his shoulders as he wolfs down his food and then shifts so he can massage Arthur's back properly. Arthur shivers and makes an odd, strangled sound into Merlin's thigh.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
Arthur turns onto his back and Merlin move his hands to cover Arthur's abdomen again, running his fingers through the light dusting of blond hair, trailing over his chest.
“Mm. Like it when you do that.”
“This?”
Merlin runs a hand over Arthur's bloated stomach again and laughs as the muscles spasm and relax under his fingers.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I'll keep doing that. Where does it hurt?”
“There, where your hand is now. And my chest, kind of. Like heat around my heart and into my back, like a hot ache.”
“Your heart?”
Merlin pauses, suddenly worried. Hearts do funny things.
“Mm. Happened before. Gaius said it was just from some kind of gas in my stomach rising to get out of my mouth.”
“Sounds like burping.”
Arthur giggles, then burps. Merlin gently smacks him.
“That wasn't on purpose! Really!”
“Really?”
“Really. Coincidence. I want to lie on my side again, this hurts.”
Merlin raises his hands to let Arthur roll and lies down himself so they can tangle together again. He rubs Arthur's side until they're both warm and sleepy again, this time running his hand up Arthur's ribs and over his back behind where his heart beats. He can feel it, the steady tha thump that keep Arthur alive. He falls asleep with his hand over the beat as if he can hold onto it and keep it there.
The knights are rather amused, the next morning, when Arthur stops immediately outside Lyonnes's view for a break and shifts uncomfortably on his horse. They seem even more amused when he refuses lunch at their mid day break and instead lies under a tree a little way off with Merlin subtly rubbing his stomach. They laugh aloud when Arthur refuses supper and demands Merlin sleep close.
They don't laugh once he's asleep. They watch Merlin's hands moving over his stomach and exchange worried glances before shoving Leon forward. Leon shuffles over to Merlin on his knees, cupping his mouth and whispering.
“Merlin!”
“Yes, Sir Leon?”
“Is the king ill? It's not like him to refuse food, even after a feast.”
“He ate all nine courses and the sweets. And Lyonnes piled his plate to show off. I don't think he'll eat normally for a week.”
Merlin's amusement is enough to assuage their worry and so they're back to mocking by the time they reach Camelot. Merlin rides in silence behind a scowling Arthur as they pass through the gate but once he's stalked into the castle he turns to the knights with a wink and grin, only running off when Arthur bellows for him.
Merlin watches with amusement as the fourth course of the meal is brought in. Arthur's knights exchange what they must think are subtle glances of despair, except Gwaine who is grinning broadly. Arthur just pats his mouth with his napkin as Merlin removes his plate and goes on discussing grain with Lord Lyonnes. Merlin smirks and lays a new plate, piled high with meat, in front of Arthur.
"...thank you, Merlin, so you see, if we were to increase..."
Merlin withdraws to stand by the wall, smiling as Lord Lyonnes praises his kitchen and implores Arthur to try more of the meat and wine provided. Arthur agrees with an inadvisable politeness. Merlin's pretty sure Arthur's going to bed with a sore stomach tonight. Even Sir Percival is flagging in keeping up with the courses.
After the fourth there's a pause and Merlin notes the relief on the knights' faces, smiling secretly in his knowledge that there's at least one more course. Lord Lyonnes stands and Arthur pushes back his chair a little in preparation to rise.
"Now, we will pause for breath and have some entertainment!"
There are cheers as a jester dances to the centre of the tables and Merlin claps. He loves the entertainment, as long as he's not it. He remembers the moment in Annis's castle when Arthur had demanded that of him and grins at the remembered look of shock on Arthur's face when he juggled.
The jester is good but Merlin is distracted by Arthur's demanding hand in the air and hastens forward with his wine jug. Arthur covers his goblet and lifts his chin to indicate he wishes to whisper so Merlin bends a little closer.
"My Lord?"
"How formal, Merlin. Yes, well. I hope this is the end of the feast, delicious though it was."
"I am afraid not."
"You sound so very sorry."
"Well, if I can't eat the 'delicious' food I do enjoy seeing those privileged to do so suffer a little."
Arthur waves him away with a scowl but Merlin catches the glint of amusement that lets him know he hasn't over stepped. Arthur's been rather more lax about that since marrying Gwen. Merlin's been getting away with more and more. A few months ago he dared hit Arthur, with very little consequence. He grins at the memory as the fifth course is carried in in the jester's wake.
Merlin sets Arthur's plate before him and feels a flash of sympathy at Arthur's dismayed expression, quickly covered, at more meat.
"This, my Lord, is from a brace of pheasants caught by my own son. He was very excited that you would be tasting his hunt but had to withdraw early as he is still young."
"How many winters is he now? I remember him as just a babe in arms."
"He is eleven winters this month, my Lord."
"Ah, I remember that time well. I caught my first deer at eleven."
Merlin frowns. He's pretty sure Arthur usually boasts that he's been hunting since birth and caught a deer at six. He also distinctly remembers a drunk Sir Leon talking of Arthur's first campaign at barely eleven winters.
"Alain is still hoping for that honour, my Lord. He will be glad of heart to know he is not far behind your lordship in that respect, it has worried him greatly."
Arthur nods, calm and lying through his teeth.
"He need not fret. Many do not catch a deer well into their twenties! I have knights who are yet to bag their first deer."
Lord Lyonnes seems pleased by this and the next time Arthur brings up an increase of grain for Lord Lyonnes's people, the Lord agrees. Merlin shakes his head, wondering how so many people are charmed by Arthur.
"The next course will go down well, I hope. We will eat gilded apples. Bring out the food!"
Part 2:
The servants scurry around and Merlin sighs, clearing Arthur's plate, at the look of slight discomfort on Arthur's face.
"Maybe you should beg pardon, sire. I believe there is little space left in even your stomach."
Arthur glares and Merlin backs away quickly. He notes that the knights refuse more than a taste of the course, excluding Gwaine who tucks in with a smile so wide Merlin's surprised his face doesn't split. He places Arthur's own plate, piled high in honour of the king, in front of him.
"My Lord, perhaps I must withdraw after this. We ride tomorrow and it is a long journey."
"Sire, I must insist! I would beg a few more moments of your time. For next on the menu is..."
Merlin doesn't hear what is next as Sir Leon taps his shoulder and he has to turn away and stop eaves dropping. Which is the duty of a servant, Merlin feels. He must know his master's mind.
"Sir Leon."
"Merlin, I believe I must withdraw. This food is rich and I am full."
"Yes, well, I think it would do us all good to stop eating. Perhaps not me as I haven't eaten yet. But all of you. How much food is there!"
"I believe there are four more courses and then three sweets."
"Oh. Wow."
"Yes. If you could inform Arthur?"
"Of the amount of food?"
"That I had to withdraw, Merlin!"
"Oh! Sorry, of course."
Leon pauses as he walks away and returns.
"I... um... I think it would be wise to warn Arthur of the food situation as well. Lord Lyonnes likes to press his guests to eat and Arthur would feel it to be a slight to refuse."
"Oh dear. Thanks."
Merlin turns back and, on the pretence of filling his goblet, warns Arthur and informs him of his knight's withdrawal. He does this several times as each knight bows out, even Gwaine. Arthur always waves him away and returns to Lyonnes, eating and drinking at his bequest. Merlin sighs and resigns himself to a night of discomfort. Lyonnes own men seem used to this kind of dining and eat but a little of each course. Arthur, though, is pressed to finish each plate and each plate is filled to impress him.
By the time he finally withdraws, Merlin at his back, he strides from the hall and then leans against the stone wall groaning with an arm about his stomach. Merlin laughs. He can't help it. He'd done sympathy earlier, tried to talk Arthur into leaving and even made a few helpful suggestions of eating less. This was Arthur's own fault.
"Prideful idiot. You could have just said 'thanks but no thanks'. Or told him you were-"
"Shut up. Help me to my room, seeing as you are my servant."
"I will not! I will help you, but only because you are my friend."
Arthur smiles briefly and Merlin tucks himself under Arthur's arm, steering the king to the chambers prepared. It's freezing and Merlin realises that while everyone has been feasting no one thought to light Arthur's fire. He helps Arthur lie on the bed and bends to do it himself.
"Stupid place. Who forgets to light a fire? Especially at this time when the winter is still clinging. It's freezing in here!"
"Mm. It is indeed. Do something about that, would you Merlin?"
"I'm lighting your fire already, prat."
"Been a while since you called me that."
"It's been a while since you deserved it. But eating too much out of pride-"
"I was being polite. Not that you'd know anything about that."
"My mother always told me I have beautiful manners, thank you very much."
"Your mother... actually, I have nothing bad to say about her. She's wonderful."
Merlin smiles as the fire catches. Arthur really is a charmer.
"That won't excuse you from my amusement, Arthur. Stop trying to charm yourself out of my mocking."
He turns to see Arthur blinking at him in confusion and realises he might have been being genuine.
"What? I wasn't... oh. She really is... Merlin!"
"Sorry. Why did you tell Lyonnes you caught a deer only when you reached eleven winters?"
Arthur snorts and rolls onto his back, winces and returns to his side. His expression turns woeful and he gives Merlin his most pathetic expression.
"I'm coming, stop moping at me."
Part 3:
Merlin kicks off his boot and turns briefly to warm his front at the fire before crawling to the centre of the bed. Arthur curls up against his chest and closes his eyes, hands running over the warmth of Merlin's clothes.
"His son is his weak spot. The boy is not the most skilled hunter. His worth lies elsewhere. I'm courting him."
"Courting him?"
Merlin pulls the turned down covers over them and rubs his hands together for warmth before placing one palm against Arthur's stomach, under his tunic. He's glad Arthur decided leaving his armour in his room would be a sign of peaceful intention and wore normal clothes instead.
"I want him to come to Camelot as a squire next fall. I think he would make a good match for Sir Percival."
Merlin snorts and rubs little circles over Arthur's stomach, enjoying the soft skin and warmth.
"Stop stealing my heat. Little thief."
Merlin pulls away his hand and Arthur moans.
"No! Put it back."
Merlin laughs but gives in to the demand. Arthur's lack of complaint means he's not just uncomfortable but in actual pain. As soon as something starts to hurt beyond a dull ache Arthur clams up and pretends he's fine.
"So, a new squire."
"Mm. He's good. I think he'll make a great knight one day. Percival can train him. Alain needs patience, he's got far too much energy and enthusiasm and, as yet, not the skill or years to temper that. It is amusing watching him fight."
"Oh good, more lost fingers. I bet you were the same at his age."
Merlin holds his breath, wondering if Arthur will give a non-committal answer or whether he'll be more open.
"Mm."
Oh. Non-committal. Merlin sighs in disappointment but Arthur distracts him by shifting, arms tightening around himself. Merlin moves from Arthur's stomach to his lower back, pressing more firmly to relax the muscles and moving over Arthur's side. Pressing on his stomach would hurt, but this way the surrounding muscles will relax. Or at least, that's Merlin's theory.
"Ah, that's good. Thank you. No, I was like that. But not at his age. My father sent me out with the knights, against Bayard, that winter."
Merlin keeps running his hand over the tense muscles, bending closer to listen.
"It was cold and I'd never been away from father... well, it was hard. Sir Leon was only a squire then, though he was knighted for his deeds. He saved my life."
"I assume you returned the favour?"
"Indeed. And I demanding to squire him."
Merlin laughs at that, imagining Uther's face and a small Arthur stamping his foot and making demands. His amusement fades at the thought of the same small boy riding to battle with his father's expectations heavy on his shoulders. Arthur sighs and Merlin realises he's drifting off. In his clothes.
"Sire, you need to change."
"Don't call me that when you're in my bed, Merlin."
"Sorry. You still can't sleep in your clothes, though."
"Demanding."
Arthur rolls up despite his protests and grumbling, letting Merlin remove his tunic and under shirt. The trousers are more difficult as it requires Arthur to stand and it obviously pains him to do so, though he barely breathes a complaint. Merlin runs a hand lightly over Arthur's curved stomach as he draws off the trousers, leaving the smalls for warmth. He lets Arthur sit as he fetches a night shirt and Arthur leans forward, face pinched, an arm wrapping around his stomach. Merlin quickly clothes him, checks the fire and strips to his own smalls. He doesn't have night clothes but Arthur refuses to let him in bed with his 'dirty peasant garb'.
Arthur curls around him again, this time with Merlin lying on his back. He can feel Arthur's stomach muscles trembling with tension against his side so he goes back to massaging, fingers tender and careful against Arthur's pain.
"Um, yeah. He let me."
"What?"
"My father. Let me squire for Leon. Only for the summer, but he allowed it. As reward I suppose."
Arthur yawns and Merlin giggles as it tickles his neck, bringing his other hand up to card through Arthur's hair. It's not long before Arthur falls asleep. Merlin continues his massage until he too drifts off.
Part 4:
Merlin's woken by a bitten off curse and the body at his wriggling. He rolls, sleepily trying to still the movement with his hands. He finds Arthur's hip and grabs it, other hand running over Arthur's face. He pauses at Arthur's nose, distracted by the line of it. It's so familiar a sight but feeling it in the dark is different. He runs a hand over Arthur's profile.
“Merlin, stop it. Pffgh.”
Merlin realises he has his fingers practically in Arthur's mouth and pulls away.
“You woke me. Prat.”
“Sorry. Ate too much.”
“How bad's the pain?”
“Just discomfort. I'm fine.”
“Sure. If you were fine you'd be moaning and complaining.”
“Shut up, Merlin.”
“Yes, Sire. Do you want me to rub your stomach?”
“I am not a dog!”
“Mm.”
Merlin runs the hand resting on Arthur's hip over his side and then shifts so he can rub gentle circles over Arthur's abdomen. Arthur's head moves restlessly and then presses into Merlin's shoulder, another bitten off sound of pain sneaking out.
“Sorry.”
“'Snot you. Stupid Lyonnes and his prideful feasts. Why do my lords believe me to have a bottomless stomach, Merlin?”
“I think they want to show off their wealth.”
“Well I wish they wouldn't. Though the servants probably got well fed tonight on the left overs.”
“Probably.”
“Speaking of servants eating, did you manage to?”
“No. I'd forgotten about that. Thank you, now I'm hungry.”
“Call for something. Though you'll have to brave the freezing stone floors. Lyonnes doesn't bother with rugs.”
“Great. And I'll have to dress. What will Lyonnes think of the gossip in the morning, otherwise?”
“That I have taken a lover. Quite respectable. I think he'd be more shocked if he realised Guinevere was quite free to do the same.”
“Has she, by the way?”
“Stop being a gossip and go get some food before my mood sours, as it is likely to do. I'm cold and uncomfortable.”
Merlin quickly shimmies out from under the covers, dragging on his clothes as quickly as he can in the freezing air. He builds up the fire and warms himself by it for a moment before leaving the chambers to snag a passing servant and ask for some cold bread and meat from the kitchens.
“Your lord is still hungry, sir?”
“Yes. You wouldn't believe how thin he used to be before he started eating like this. I think it's a disorder.”
Merlin laughs at the horrified look on the maid's face.
“Sorry, my humour needs practice. Truthfully he ordered me to use his name to get some supper. I didn't manage to eat and he treats his servants very well.”
The maid smiles and bobs a curtsy before scurrying away, wide eyed and confused. Merlin grins and hurries back to Arthur's chambers, standing by the fire to await his food.
“Who did you terrorise? You've got your I-just-realised-the-power-being-the-King's-personal-servant-gives-me face on.”
“No one!”
“Tell me. I need entertaining.”
“Fine. I told the maid you were still hungry and that I thought your constant eating was a disorder. Oh, and I implied you were fat.”
“Merlin!”
Merlin laughs and Arthur sighs in resignation.
“I suppose this is what I guess for calling us all equal. What a bad idea that was. Are you coming back?”
Merlin frowns at the strain he can hear in Arthur's voice.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
Part 5:
“I'm waiting for them to bring food so I don't have to undress and then dress again. And I'm getting warm. It's freezing!”
“I already commented as such.”
“Are you still cold?”
“Mm.”
There's a timid knock on the door and Merlin hurries across, frigid air making him speed his steps. The maid hands him a tray with a mug of ale and a plate of bread and meat. And a flower. She blushes as he picks up the flower and raises his eyebrow.
“From me, sir. For you, not your lord. Not that I... don't tell him I said that!”
She reminds Merlin of Gwen from years ago and it makes him smile, which makes her blush and curtsy nearly spilling the tray. He takes it from her before his supper hits the floor. He's hungry.
“Thank you. I'm Merlin.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What's your name? It seems I should know the name of the girl who is giving me flowers.”
“Mary, sir.”
“Merlin!”
Merlin glances back into the room, grins at Mary and she hurries away with a brief smile and another blush. Merlin sets the tray on the small table by Arthur's bed and twirls the flower. He's thinking of a little purple flower Gwen once stuck in his tunic, blushing and babbling and talking all over herself to not offend him. He misses that Gwen, sometimes. Her confidence is great but he misses his shy friend.
“Merlin.”
“Sorry. I was thinking.”
“That's always a bad idea. Did you find food?”
“Mary got me a plate.”
“Mary. Really. Is she the owner of that flower?”
“Jealousy doesn't become you, Arthur.”
“I'm not jealous.”
Merlin laughs but he decides he's teased Arthur enough. He puts the flower on the table, strips down to his smalls again and slips back into the bed.
“You're eating in bed?”
“You'd rather I not?”
“No. You're warm, I guess. Or will be, get your freezing feet away from me!”
Merlin pulls his feet away and closer to his own body, wriggling until he's a bit warmer and then pulls the tray to himself. He straightens a leg to allow Arthur to pillow his head on his thigh then digs into his meal, hand threading into Arthur's hair.
“All right, sire?”
“What have I told you about calling me that while in my bed?”
“Um, don't?”
“Exactly. And no, I'm not all right. My stomach hurts.”
Merlin pauses with a bite of meat half way to his mouth and it falls back to the plate.
“Are you admitting you're in pain?”
“I'm tired and, yes, I am in pain. Are you going to gloat?”
“No. Just, you usually don't unless you're not really. Are you feeling better?”
Part 6:
“Gods. Shut up you idiot. No, I'm not feeling better. I just thought maybe you'd have some kind of remedy. You are Gaius's apprentice after all.”
“Sure. I have a remedy. Don't eat until you're about to pop.”
Arthur hits his knee then groans and presses his face into Merlin's leg. Merlin rubs his back between his shoulders as he wolfs down his food and then shifts so he can massage Arthur's back properly. Arthur shivers and makes an odd, strangled sound into Merlin's thigh.
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
Arthur turns onto his back and Merlin move his hands to cover Arthur's abdomen again, running his fingers through the light dusting of blond hair, trailing over his chest.
“Mm. Like it when you do that.”
“This?”
Merlin runs a hand over Arthur's bloated stomach again and laughs as the muscles spasm and relax under his fingers.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I'll keep doing that. Where does it hurt?”
“There, where your hand is now. And my chest, kind of. Like heat around my heart and into my back, like a hot ache.”
“Your heart?”
Merlin pauses, suddenly worried. Hearts do funny things.
“Mm. Happened before. Gaius said it was just from some kind of gas in my stomach rising to get out of my mouth.”
“Sounds like burping.”
Arthur giggles, then burps. Merlin gently smacks him.
“That wasn't on purpose! Really!”
“Really?”
“Really. Coincidence. I want to lie on my side again, this hurts.”
Merlin raises his hands to let Arthur roll and lies down himself so they can tangle together again. He rubs Arthur's side until they're both warm and sleepy again, this time running his hand up Arthur's ribs and over his back behind where his heart beats. He can feel it, the steady tha thump that keep Arthur alive. He falls asleep with his hand over the beat as if he can hold onto it and keep it there.
The knights are rather amused, the next morning, when Arthur stops immediately outside Lyonnes's view for a break and shifts uncomfortably on his horse. They seem even more amused when he refuses lunch at their mid day break and instead lies under a tree a little way off with Merlin subtly rubbing his stomach. They laugh aloud when Arthur refuses supper and demands Merlin sleep close.
They don't laugh once he's asleep. They watch Merlin's hands moving over his stomach and exchange worried glances before shoving Leon forward. Leon shuffles over to Merlin on his knees, cupping his mouth and whispering.
“Merlin!”
“Yes, Sir Leon?”
“Is the king ill? It's not like him to refuse food, even after a feast.”
“He ate all nine courses and the sweets. And Lyonnes piled his plate to show off. I don't think he'll eat normally for a week.”
Merlin's amusement is enough to assuage their worry and so they're back to mocking by the time they reach Camelot. Merlin rides in silence behind a scowling Arthur as they pass through the gate but once he's stalked into the castle he turns to the knights with a wink and grin, only running off when Arthur bellows for him.