Turning A Blind Eye
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Turning a Blind Eye
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Merlin&Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Aithusa
Summary: Arthur knows that Merlin steals his food. The question is why.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1282
Camelot_drabble prompt 540: Stolen
Author’s notes: just a bit of fluff
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Arthur knew he should say something. After all, theft was not to be tolerated, especially from those in his employ. If the king found out, Merlin would lose a hand at the very least and be branded on his cheek for all to see. Or else executed. His father liked making an example and would do so without giving it a second thought.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t feed the idiot. Skinny though he was, Merlin was energetic and feisty, strong enough to talk back.
Anyone wasting away from hunger would be lethargic and Merlin was anything but. Besides, Arthur couldn’t imagine that Gaius wouldn’t provide for Merlin. After all, apprentice or not, he treated Merlin like a son and there was usually stew or bread in the physician’s chambers.
But it couldn’t continue. His sausages were often gone from his plate-and he had specifically told Cook that he liked them so she wouldn’t have left them off. Then there was cheese missing at lunch and bread and a chicken leg at supper and his favourite tarts. Arthur had to be put a stop to it.
Stomping up to Merlin’s little room, knowing that he was probably readying for bed, Arthur shoved the door open.
Merlin was sitting on his bed, in the middle of throwing a blanket over something behind him, a flash of white, and then Merlin moved over, hiding whatever it was. For an instant, Merlin looked guilty, then his face lit up in a gormless smile. “Arthur, I was just coming to see you.”
“Indeed? After curfew?” Arthur said, suspicious as hell.
The fake innocent look deepened, Merlin’s eyes wide as he stammered, “Oh, is it… is it really curfew? I guess I can wait ‘til morning then. Unless you need Gaius for some reason?”
“My chicken leg is missing,” Arthur wasn’t falling for it. He wanted his supper, damn it.
“Did it walk off on its own?” Merlin said, then deflated a bit when Arthur scowled at him. “I guess not, but are you sure you didn’t eat it? You are looking a bit… I had to put another hole in your belt. Perhaps you just forgot?”
“And my sausages and my bread and that strawberry tart I was promised,” Arthur pointed out, his frown deepening.
Merlin looked as if he was really considering where the food could have gone, then brightened. “But you have been getting hit on the head a lot lately.” As if that explained everything.
Scowl deepening, Arthur said, “You’ve been doing it for days now and it has to stop.” When Merlin’s face fell, Arthur relented, just a little. “If you are hungry, ask Cook for more and stop stealing mine.”
“Cook hates me.” Merlin shook his head.
It was true, too. Arthur had heard complaints from Cook for ages about Merlin messing with her kitchen. But Arthur was not about to get side-tracked. “That is not my problem. Just leave my food alone.” Behind Merlin, something moved. “What’s that?”
Merlin stilled, his face pale. Shoving his hand behind him, pretending to ignore whatever was going on behind his back, Merlin said, “What’s what?” When Arthur stared at him, Merlin shrugged. “Just my blanket.”
Unfortunately for Merlin, the blanket moved and damn if there wasn’t a dragon under it.
Arthur hadn’t brought his sword with him nor his dagger so he couldn’t kill the monster just then. Instead, horrified, worried that Merlin would be hurt, he tried motioning Merlin away from the dangerous creature as Arthur roared, “It’s a dragon!”
Merlin, idiot though he was, put his hands over the monster’s ears. “No, it’s not. It’s a cat. You really need to have your vision looked at if you think Aithusa here is a dragon.”
Staring at Merlin as if he’d hit his head one too many times because it was definitely not a cat, Arthur pointed out, “It has wings and there is smoke coming out of its mouth.”
“You are seeing things again. He’s a cat. See, he’s smiling at you.” Merlin turned to pet the creature, stroking its head and the soft curve of its spine. “You like him, don’t you, Aithusa? Such a good kitty.” The beast trilled, a happy note for such a fiend, small as it was.
“Merlin, it’s not a cat. You can’t be having a… a… dragon in your room,” Arthur insisted.
Merlin turned to him, saying a little tartly, “Well, I didn’t think you’d want him in your room. Although he might be a good rat catcher.” He spun back to Aithusa, his voice rising into that kind of sugary talk only a parent or pet owner would use. “Won’t you? Catch rats for the scaredy prat? He’s always jumping on the bed when he sees one.”
“I do not.” Arthur was offended. It was only the once. “I am not afraid of rats although I have to wonder about you. Did you really think I’d fall for the fake cat routine?” Arthur wanted to know.
Leaning down, rubbing his nose against the creature’s snout, Merlin said, “Don’t listen to him, Aithusa. You are a cat, the most beautiful cat in the world.”
Arthur gave up. He could see that Merlin was trying to pull a fast one on him, but it also looked like he really cared about the monster’s well-being. And it was pretty cute, for a fiend from hell.
“Would you like to pet him? He likes you, I can tell.”
Arthur should be afraid of it, small as it was. After all, dragons can breathe fire and he’d like to keep his hands unburnt, thank you very much. But with Merlin looking at him like that, as if he’d cry for weeks if Arthur killed the creature, Arthur gave a shrug and courageously put one hand out, letting Aithusa sniff at him.
At least, there was no fire coming out of its mouth.
Instead, giving a little cheep, the dragon nosed at Arthur’s fingers and then licked them. It tickled.
Growing bolder, Aithusa waddled over and began to rub against Arthur’s hand. He was warm and soft for a reptile, cat-like in many respects, and before Arthur could think that this was a colossally bad idea, he was on Merlin’s bed and Aithusa was sitting in his lap and trilling with happiness as Arthur petted him.
“He likes to be scratched under his chin,” Merlin said, helpful as always.
Arthur did just that, watching at Aithusa closed his eyes in contentment. “Merlin, you can’t keep him. He’ll grow too big, and dragons are… not welcome in Camelot.”
“There’s a cave under the castle. I could put a nest under there for him. And then you could visit him whenever you liked?” Merlin insisted, not really thinking it through.
“Merlin, my father would kill him without a thought. You have to know he’s got to go,” Arthur said, knowing he was right.
“I know but he’s so little right now. He needs me.” Merlin pouted.
Arthur gave up. He couldn’t battle both Merlin’s sad eyes and the trill of Aithusa’s courage. Sighing, he said, “Just keep him hidden, then. And when he gets too big, we’ll talk again.”
Merlin’s grin was sun-bright. “You won’t be sorry. He’ll love you always, just as I… umm… think you are a prat.”
He’d have to think about that last statement. Merlin could be such an enigma, but he was Arthur’s after all.
Finally, insisting, Arthur said, “And one last thing. Stop stealing my sausages. Aithusa can eat scraps, not the crème of Camelot cuisine.”
“Not even this one?” Merlin said, pulling out one of Arthur’s missing sausages and biting off the end.
“Merlin!”
Title: Turning a Blind Eye
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Merlin&Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Aithusa
Summary: Arthur knows that Merlin steals his food. The question is why.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1282
Camelot_drabble prompt 540: Stolen
Author’s notes: just a bit of fluff
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/o/
Arthur knew he should say something. After all, theft was not to be tolerated, especially from those in his employ. If the king found out, Merlin would lose a hand at the very least and be branded on his cheek for all to see. Or else executed. His father liked making an example and would do so without giving it a second thought.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t feed the idiot. Skinny though he was, Merlin was energetic and feisty, strong enough to talk back.
Anyone wasting away from hunger would be lethargic and Merlin was anything but. Besides, Arthur couldn’t imagine that Gaius wouldn’t provide for Merlin. After all, apprentice or not, he treated Merlin like a son and there was usually stew or bread in the physician’s chambers.
But it couldn’t continue. His sausages were often gone from his plate-and he had specifically told Cook that he liked them so she wouldn’t have left them off. Then there was cheese missing at lunch and bread and a chicken leg at supper and his favourite tarts. Arthur had to be put a stop to it.
Stomping up to Merlin’s little room, knowing that he was probably readying for bed, Arthur shoved the door open.
Merlin was sitting on his bed, in the middle of throwing a blanket over something behind him, a flash of white, and then Merlin moved over, hiding whatever it was. For an instant, Merlin looked guilty, then his face lit up in a gormless smile. “Arthur, I was just coming to see you.”
“Indeed? After curfew?” Arthur said, suspicious as hell.
The fake innocent look deepened, Merlin’s eyes wide as he stammered, “Oh, is it… is it really curfew? I guess I can wait ‘til morning then. Unless you need Gaius for some reason?”
“My chicken leg is missing,” Arthur wasn’t falling for it. He wanted his supper, damn it.
“Did it walk off on its own?” Merlin said, then deflated a bit when Arthur scowled at him. “I guess not, but are you sure you didn’t eat it? You are looking a bit… I had to put another hole in your belt. Perhaps you just forgot?”
“And my sausages and my bread and that strawberry tart I was promised,” Arthur pointed out, his frown deepening.
Merlin looked as if he was really considering where the food could have gone, then brightened. “But you have been getting hit on the head a lot lately.” As if that explained everything.
Scowl deepening, Arthur said, “You’ve been doing it for days now and it has to stop.” When Merlin’s face fell, Arthur relented, just a little. “If you are hungry, ask Cook for more and stop stealing mine.”
“Cook hates me.” Merlin shook his head.
It was true, too. Arthur had heard complaints from Cook for ages about Merlin messing with her kitchen. But Arthur was not about to get side-tracked. “That is not my problem. Just leave my food alone.” Behind Merlin, something moved. “What’s that?”
Merlin stilled, his face pale. Shoving his hand behind him, pretending to ignore whatever was going on behind his back, Merlin said, “What’s what?” When Arthur stared at him, Merlin shrugged. “Just my blanket.”
Unfortunately for Merlin, the blanket moved and damn if there wasn’t a dragon under it.
Arthur hadn’t brought his sword with him nor his dagger so he couldn’t kill the monster just then. Instead, horrified, worried that Merlin would be hurt, he tried motioning Merlin away from the dangerous creature as Arthur roared, “It’s a dragon!”
Merlin, idiot though he was, put his hands over the monster’s ears. “No, it’s not. It’s a cat. You really need to have your vision looked at if you think Aithusa here is a dragon.”
Staring at Merlin as if he’d hit his head one too many times because it was definitely not a cat, Arthur pointed out, “It has wings and there is smoke coming out of its mouth.”
“You are seeing things again. He’s a cat. See, he’s smiling at you.” Merlin turned to pet the creature, stroking its head and the soft curve of its spine. “You like him, don’t you, Aithusa? Such a good kitty.” The beast trilled, a happy note for such a fiend, small as it was.
“Merlin, it’s not a cat. You can’t be having a… a… dragon in your room,” Arthur insisted.
Merlin turned to him, saying a little tartly, “Well, I didn’t think you’d want him in your room. Although he might be a good rat catcher.” He spun back to Aithusa, his voice rising into that kind of sugary talk only a parent or pet owner would use. “Won’t you? Catch rats for the scaredy prat? He’s always jumping on the bed when he sees one.”
“I do not.” Arthur was offended. It was only the once. “I am not afraid of rats although I have to wonder about you. Did you really think I’d fall for the fake cat routine?” Arthur wanted to know.
Leaning down, rubbing his nose against the creature’s snout, Merlin said, “Don’t listen to him, Aithusa. You are a cat, the most beautiful cat in the world.”
Arthur gave up. He could see that Merlin was trying to pull a fast one on him, but it also looked like he really cared about the monster’s well-being. And it was pretty cute, for a fiend from hell.
“Would you like to pet him? He likes you, I can tell.”
Arthur should be afraid of it, small as it was. After all, dragons can breathe fire and he’d like to keep his hands unburnt, thank you very much. But with Merlin looking at him like that, as if he’d cry for weeks if Arthur killed the creature, Arthur gave a shrug and courageously put one hand out, letting Aithusa sniff at him.
At least, there was no fire coming out of its mouth.
Instead, giving a little cheep, the dragon nosed at Arthur’s fingers and then licked them. It tickled.
Growing bolder, Aithusa waddled over and began to rub against Arthur’s hand. He was warm and soft for a reptile, cat-like in many respects, and before Arthur could think that this was a colossally bad idea, he was on Merlin’s bed and Aithusa was sitting in his lap and trilling with happiness as Arthur petted him.
“He likes to be scratched under his chin,” Merlin said, helpful as always.
Arthur did just that, watching at Aithusa closed his eyes in contentment. “Merlin, you can’t keep him. He’ll grow too big, and dragons are… not welcome in Camelot.”
“There’s a cave under the castle. I could put a nest under there for him. And then you could visit him whenever you liked?” Merlin insisted, not really thinking it through.
“Merlin, my father would kill him without a thought. You have to know he’s got to go,” Arthur said, knowing he was right.
“I know but he’s so little right now. He needs me.” Merlin pouted.
Arthur gave up. He couldn’t battle both Merlin’s sad eyes and the trill of Aithusa’s courage. Sighing, he said, “Just keep him hidden, then. And when he gets too big, we’ll talk again.”
Merlin’s grin was sun-bright. “You won’t be sorry. He’ll love you always, just as I… umm… think you are a prat.”
He’d have to think about that last statement. Merlin could be such an enigma, but he was Arthur’s after all.
Finally, insisting, Arthur said, “And one last thing. Stop stealing my sausages. Aithusa can eat scraps, not the crème of Camelot cuisine.”
“Not even this one?” Merlin said, pulling out one of Arthur’s missing sausages and biting off the end.
“Merlin!”