[FIC] A Time for Reflection (Arthur/Merlin; PG)
Author: han_corrupted
Title: A Time for Reflection
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin, implied Merlin/Will
Rating: PG
Summary: Around harvest time, the tradition of countryman favours cause Merlin to miss home. He makes one himself not intending to give it away, and Merlin has to face his feelings when he finds Arthur with the favour. The Prince wasn’t supposed to find it nor does he know the meaning behind it.
Total word count: 4,573
Original prompt number: 44 - Submitted by nuclearsugars
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: I started this without knowing I’d get the prompt or not, and then it just went in a completely different direction than I thought. Less shmoopy than I’d planned. Takes place in the year between S2 and S3.
For reference pictures and more information regarding countryman’s favours, go here and here
Beta(s): furloughday and nyargles - thank you, girls, you are amazing! This fic would not look this good without you. ♥
His first year in Camelot, Merlin didn’t really have time to miss Ealdor and its traditions. Sure, he missed his mother and Will and sometimes the simplicity of country life, but never Ealdor as a place. He liked Camelot. The city - because Merlin thought of Camelot as the castle and its surrounding houses rather than the entire land - had become a home, somewhere Merlin finally felt like he had a place. It was where he belonged.
That and the fact that Arthur had a ridiculous ability to get into trouble - usually of the magical kind - every five minutes. Trouble Merlin had to get him out of. Obviously Merlin couldn’t leave Arthur hanging - he would suffer without Merlin.
It wasn’t until his second year in Camelot that Merlin really had the time to sit down and think about the village where he grew up, think about the things he missed from home.
Since it was harvest time, Arthur had the doubtful pleasure of riding out to the villages of the kingdom to boost morale and see that they were doing their part to keep Camelot glorious. Or something to that effect. Uther had been rather verbose when he told Arthur of his duties and Merlin had tuned the king out after a while - Arthur would relay the ‘highlights’ to Merlin later anyway.
As it were, Arthur dragged Merlin along on the campaign to the outlying villages (“If I have to suffer this heat, you have to suffer it with me, Merlin, instead of lazing around the castle because I’m not around to give you orders!”) and with every village, memories of Ealdor invaded Merlin’s mind. Most villages had the same feeling of togetherness as his childhood home, and the familiar motions of harvest brought a small pang of homesickness.
It grew a little worse when Merlin spotted a small boy yanking on his mother’s skirts, holding a mangled lump of wheat in his hand. Merlin’s heart felt full to the brink of bursting when the boy’s mother accepted the lump with a happy, affectionate smile and promptly attached it to her skirt. The boy’s answering smile was blindingly bright. Even in its distorted, childish form, Merlin recognized the token for what it was: a countryman’s favour - a lover’s token in common tongue.
It seemed that the villages in Camelot had the same traditions as Ealdor, and Merlin found he was pleased to make that discovery. The tradition of making countryman’s favours was a sweet one; a young man would weave wheat - or whatever kind of straw available - into what could pass as a heart and give it to his intended or new love. If the girl wore the favour near her heart the next time he saw her, he would know his love was answered. Will had made one when they were younger. Merlin had found it and asked Will who he had intended to give it to. When Will hadn’t given him a straight answer, Merlin had threatened to wear it himself. At the time, the young boy had assumed this would scare his best friend into revealing who he had his eyes on, but when Will still didn’t say anything, Merlin had been forced to wear it. He had worn Will’s favour until it fell apart.
The boy and his mother weren’t the only example of the tradition of exchanging tokens, Merlin found, as Arthur took him and a handful of knights to other villages. In each village there were at least three young women wearing favours on their blouses or dresses. Each time he saw one, Merlin felt a small stab of jealousy and longing. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt so jealous of the girls, but he could readily admit (though not to Arthur, who would never let Merlin hear the end of it) that he longed for someone to care about him enough to make him something as silly as a countryman’s favour.
Had they not had to return to Camelot for the big Harvest Feast, Arthur would have taken Merlin back to Ealdor to see his mother, Merlin was sure. He could see it in the careful way Arthur never mentioned how close they were to the border and how, the closer they came to King Cendred’s kingdom, the faster Arthur put Merlin to work, as if it would keep Merlin busy enough not to entertain ideas to run away to Ealdor.
Still, Merlin found himself wondering how his mother was and how far she had come in her preparation for the harvest feast. Hunith didn’t go out in the fields during harvest like many of Ealdor’s women, but rather prepared the food. She baked bread and pies with the new harvest.
When they returned to the castle, a few days before the big feast, Arthur released Merlin from several of his duties so he could help out in the kitchen or help Gaius. The court physician seemed to brew endless batches of pain relief potions during harvest - most injuries were due to too much heavy lifting that led to sore muscles. In the evenings, after attending to Arthur, Merlin found himself with straws of wheat, trying to make a countryman’s favour. At first it had been a way to bring something of Ealdor to Camelot, even if it was only a replica of a memory, but it had been a surprisingly calming exercise and Merlin kept braiding. He always burned the favours when he finished. He couldn’t very well leave them lying around, and it was another almost cathartic to allow his magic to flare up and dispose of what his hands had created.
On the evening of the Harvest Feast, Arthur had reinstated Merlin’s duties and as was usual before larger gatherings, Merlin laid out a set of clothes for Arthur. And as usual, Arthur went through another three sets of clothes before he settled for what he wanted to wear. When he came out from behind the dressing screen, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, Merlin nearly choked. On Arthur’s belt, in full view, hung a countryman’s favour. That wasn’t even the worst part of it, Merlin realised, but that the favour looked very familiar. He had made it.
Merlin felt hysteric laughter bubbling up in his throat and quickly busied himself with re-folding one of the discarded tunics. The red ribbon tying the favour together was in Pendragon red and matched Arthur’s jacket perfectly. It was also the only favour Merlin had made with a red ribbon. He’d made it, or finished it rather, the day before while Arthur took a bath. (In the back of his mind, Merlin vaguely remembered shoving it under a book when Arthur complained about the bath water being too cold and that Merlin should heat up a little water so he could bathe a little longer.) He must have forgotten it.
When the immediate danger of hysteric laughter faded, Merlin took the time to straighten up Arthur’s closet. He glanced at Arthur, pulling on his boots on his bed, and the favour hanging off the prince’s belt. He fought to keep his voice steady and unaffected.
“That’s an interesting piece of decoration.”
Arthur looked a little confused until Merlin nodded towards the favour. Arthur touched the wheat creation and nodded.
“Yeah, it is,” he mumbled. “I found it this morning when I was searching for a map for Leon.” Arthur paused for a moment before fixing Merlin with a look. “You know, you really need to get better at the whole cleaning thing. I barely found the map under all that junk,” he gestured to the table that held most of Arthur’s books and papers. “And then I find this thing,” he fingered the favour, “and I have no idea where it came from.”
“Maybe it’s enchanted,” Merlin blurted out.
Arthur stared at Merlin. “What?”
Nodding eagerly, Merlin took a couple steps closer to the prince. “Yeah, you don’t know what it is or who put it in your room. It could have been a sorcerer!” Reaching for the favour, Merlin nodded again. “Best to burn it, sire.”
Arthur easily side-stepped his manservant. “Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“You’re officially even weirder than I thought you could possibly become.” He muttered something Merlin thought sounded suspiciously like ‘idiot’.
“But-”
“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, holding up his hand to keep Merlin quiet. “I know you’re sort of incapable of doing anything useful like keeping people out of my chambers, but there are guards in the castle who, unlike you, know what they’re doing. No one except you and the girl that brought up my lunch have been in here.”
“But-”
“Besides,” Arthur continued, “I’m sure that if this supposed sorcerer planted something in my room, designed to kill me, he would have done so in a less conspicuous manner. Like poison my food, or so something to my bed. He couldn’t very well know I would pick up this-, this thing,” he prodded the favour. Giving Merlin another look, Arthur finished adjusting his tunic. “And even so, I’ve had this thing on me since breakfast and, as you can see, I’m quite alive.”
“What if it wasn’t designed to kill you for several hours, lulling you into a false sense of security?”
When Arthur laughed at that and proceeded to ignore his manservant, Merlin had to concede. It wasn’t highly probable that a sorcerer would enchant something like a favour, let alone put a delaying spell on it. Then again, you never knew with Arthur and his attraction to danger.
There was nothing he could do, though, but follow Arthur to the feast, praying no one would comment on Arthur’s new accessory. Unfortunately, it took all of three second after Arthur had entered the room before Merlin could see servants fighting smiles, many of whom came from villages like Merlin’s and would recognise a countryman’s favours. Thankfully, many of the nobles that had gathered in Camelot for the feast seemed oblivious to the meaning of Arthur’s decoration. Or if they did know, they knew how to hide their amusement.
Uther, however, didn’t even try to hide his confusion. He called Arthur to his side with a single glance and then refused to look at his son, looking out over the assembled people instead.
“Arthur, what is that thing on your belt?”
Arthur looked down on the favour as if he didn’t know what Uther was talking about. “I thought it was appropriate to wear something to show that it’s harvest time,” Arthur said slowly. Merlin fought to breathe properly as Uther remained quiet, only shooting Arthur a side-glance.
“Quite right, son,” Uther declared suddenly with a smile. Merlin felt his shoulders slump in relief as the king clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Good thinking.”
*
Merlin was exhausted and not a little grateful when the feast ended. There hadn’t been any more comments about Arthur’s accessory (even if Morgana had looked between Arthur and Merlin with suspicion in her eyes) after the king had deemed it suitable. Merlin tried not to be too pleased that Arthur had been careful not to damage the favour, holding his hand protectively over it whenever someone came close enough to bump into the prince.
“Should I take the f-, that thing and burn it now, sire?” Merlin asked as, back in the prince’s chambers after the feast, Arthur shrugged off his jacket and toed off his boots, sinking into his chair by the fire.
“My jacket? Good God, Merlin, don’t be an idiot.”
“No, no. Your, eh, decoration.”
Arthur unbuckled his belt and gently dislodged the favour from it, holding it up for scrutiny. Merlin held his hand out for it.
“Arthur?” Merlin questioned when Arthur hadn’t moved, eyes still on the favour.
“What? Yes, no, I’ll take care of it, Merlin.” Arthur still didn’t look up at Merlin. “You were less of an embarrassment tonight, maybe you’re improving.” There was a slight pause where Arthur darted a look at Merlin before he chuckled. “No, that can’t be it. Either way, you’re free to go. I will not be needing your services anymore tonight. Consider that your reward.”
“Thank you, sire, that’s very kind.” Merlin fought not to roll his eyes.
“Yes, of course.”
Merlin stood, undecided whether or not he should press the issue of the favour. It would draw more attention to it, and Arthur would continue wearing it just to spite him, Merlin knew the prince well enough to know that, but on the other hand, Merlin also knew that he didn’t want Arthur to keep the favour. He hadn’t made it for Arthur. Well, he hadn’t made it for anyone in particular, but still, Merlin should be able to give it to someone freely, not have someone take it upon themselves to wear it.
“You’re still here?”
Merlin startled a little and fought not to blush as Arthur looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“Sorry, sire, I’ll be on my way,” he blurted out and managed a half-jerk that could possibly be considered a bow, if you squinted, before darting out of the room.
He had to figure out a way to get the favour off of Arthur and destroy it. There was only so long he could go around pretending he didn’t know what it was when all around him; every servant in the castle were looking at him and the prince with amusement. Rumour had probably spread like wildfire over the prince’s accessory, Merlin was sure, and soon enough someone was going to slip up and tell Arthur what the favour was, and eventually Arthur would link it back to Merlin, and then where would he be?
Merlin paused and had to roll his eyes at himself. Obviously there weren’t going to be any worse consequences than Arthur’s teasing for a while - which already happened frequently - and a talk about leaving things in Arthur’s rooms - which had happened before. Nothing too serious. But the fact remained that Merlin didn’t particularly like the idea of Arthur walking around with a favour that Merlin had made. It didn’t seem right.
*
For reasons Merlin couldn’t even begin to understand, Arthur continued to the favour on his belt in the days after the Harvest Feast, walking around the castle and the village with it swaying gently with each step. Merlin had done his best to dissuade Arthur from wearing it, trying logic (“It’s past the harvest feast, there’s no need to wear that thing, sire”) and ridicule (“You look even more of a prat with that thing on your belt. How that’s possible, I don’t know”) and every other method of persuasion he could think of, but nothing seemed to work. Arthur had a response to everything, none of it in Merlin’s favour.
It was getting a little old hearing the servants break off from their conversations whenever he or Arthur passed, only to hear them giggle or whisper furiously to one another once they had passed. It was very clear that the servants who knew what a favour was had educated the others, and now every single worker in the castle were trying to figure out who it was that had their Prince so enamoured that he would walk around with a countryman’s favour on his belt. Of course, Merlin heard his fair share of rumours that said he was the one who made the favour for the prince. Which, technically, was true, but they didn’t know that.
He wasn’t too surprised about the rumours, there had been worse ones about the prince and himself circulating, but what surprised him was how many there were that honestly believed in that particular rumour. It seemed as though even the knights and Gwen thought the rumour had some credibility.
There were several of the knights who looked at Merlin with something akin to fondness when he came to talk to Arthur during training. Sir Leon had smiled at him and notified Arthur of his presence before Merlin had set foot on the actual training field. The way Arthur immediately broke away from the knights to come see what he wanted (the King had requested Arthur come round to see him after training) didn’t help at all. As Arthur went back to training, Merlin could have sworn he saw Sir Kay and Sir Bors nudge each other, grinning.
Worse was Gwen’s reaction. Merlin felt a little annoyed with the way she had taken to looking alternatively slightly jealous and alternatively amused whenever she saw he and Arthur together. She tried to cover it up with polite smiles, but it tended to fall flat. Merlin reminded himself that Gwen was already stressed, receiving letters from her beloved Lancelot only sporadically, not knowing from week to week whether he was alive and well.
As annoyed as he was by the whispers and the rumours, Merlin found that he had become so used to seeing Arthur anywhere and everywhere (apart from at training) with the stupid favour on his belt, that when he, one day, caught sight of Arthur heading from the king’s chambers, belt empty of decoration save his sword, was startled enough to freeze. Arthur spotted him and promptly relayed a list of duties for him to perform, but all Merlin could focus on was the empty place where his favour had hung just the day before.
“Merlin, is your mental affliction acting up again or is there another particular reason you’re standing there like a common fool?”
Shaking himself out of his daze, Merlin reassured Arthur of his attention and set off to start on the list of chores Arthur had so kindly repeated for him. There was a strange sort of hollow feeling in his chest as he walked away.
Another two days of seeing Arthur without the favour passed until Merlin could admit, at least to himself, that the empty feeling echoing in him was sadness. The prince didn’t know what the favour had meant, but apparently Merlin’s heart had liked the idea of someone wearing his token of affection. Obviously Merlin’s heart was as idiotic as Arthur claimed Merlin was, because it didn’t seem to be bothered by the simple truth that the person who had been wearing the favour hadn’t worn it specifically for Merlin.
Whatever had caused Arthur to stop wearing the favour (Merlin didn’t want to speculate as to the reasons, because it would ultimately lead to freaking out because Arthur somehow finding out the meaning of the favour and tracking it back to Merlin), it thankfully led to life in the castle to go back to normal. Or as normal as it got around a royal castle. No longer did servants giggle (as much) behind Merlin’s back as he went about his chores; they were too occupied with whatever new was scandal circulating the castle rumour mill.
When a full week had gone since the Harvest Feast, Merlin finally felt like he could act like a normal human being around Arthur. He wasn’t searching for the favour, wasn’t thinking about Arthur’s reasons for wearing it. Of course, Merlin’s peace of mind didn’t last for long.
“Hand me my blue tunic, would you Merlin?” Arthur asked (demanded) as the two entered the prince’s chambers after a patrol.
Merlin went to the closet to dig out the right shirt, and promptly froze, shirt in hand, as he turned around to find Arthur stripping of his dirty tunic. It wasn’t so much the sight of Arthur getting undressed as it was his new accessory. Around his neck, on a leather strap and looking a little worse for the wear, hung the favour. Underneath his tunic.
“Merlin! Shirt, please.”
“Of course, sire,” Merlin managed to blurt out, handing the prince his tunic and turning around, busying himself with Arthur’s bedding. His mind reeled. Arthur hadn’t abandoned the favour; he had just taken to wearing it under his shirt rather than on his belt. Closer to his heart, a small voice in Merlin’s head supplied.
“Why are you still wearing that thing?” Merlin cursed his mouth’s tendency to blurt out his thoughts before his brain could interfere. He turned around to look at Arthur. The prince had pulled on the new tunic but he hadn’t hidden the favour away underneath. He looked thoughtful, touching the wheat creation with careful fingers.
“I don’t know, I just like it. I don’t really feel like taking it off.” Merlin could feel his heart speeding up but he pushed any thoughts of why out of his head.
“Maybe it is enchanted, like I said.”
Arthur scoffed. “And maybe I’m a warlock. Merlin, honestly, you’re being ridiculous. It’s not enchanted. I can take this thing off, I just choose not to. I like it.” He paused. “And either way, it’s not like you have any say in what I should or shouldn’t to. I’m the Crown Prince of Camelot. I can do what I want.”
Merlin nodded as if he agreed. “Yes, your highness.”
He grinned when Arthur didn’t seem to care about the less than deferential tone of his voice. It always gave him a minor rush when Arthur no longer reacted to his small ‘rebellious’ actions; it gave him hope that Arthur wouldn’t mind him or his secrets once they came out.
*
For nearly two weeks after realizing Arthur wore the favour underneath his tunic, Merlin felt warm and light despite the chilling weather outside. Arthur had given him a few narrowed glances when he hadn’t reacted to the list of chores other than with a smile and polite, “Yes, sire.”
Merlin caught himself smiling for no reason. It would have been disconcerting had it not felt so wonderful to feel content and happy.
“You’ve been disgustingly happy lately,” Arthur commented with a careful look at Merlin’s face as the latter helped himself to a small portion of Arthur’s breakfast. “Has somebody given you a pup or kitten?”
Merlin narrowed his eyes but chose not to comment when the prince smiled, obviously very amused by his own jibe at his servant.
“Come on, Merlin, tell me.”
“Not when you’re being like this.”
“Like what?”
Merlin couldn’t stop the minor scoff that escaped him, something Arthur was quick to comment on. “Well,” he started slowly. “Like a royal arse.” Merlin mentally winced. Good friends as they were, Arthur was still Merlin’s superior and employer; he shouldn’t speak out of tone like that.
“I am not-”
“You kind of are,” Merlin interrupted. Clearly, his mental filter was off.
Arthur fell silent after that and Merlin could only pick at the food that had looked so delicious a moment ago. His mouth landed him in as much trouble as Arthur’s attraction to danger and hero-complex did.
Eventually Arthur started talking about organizing a hunting trip soon, and Merlin breathed out a sigh of relief. As much as he disliked hunting, he was all for talking about it if it meant Arthur wasn’t going to fire him (again). Then again, for all Merlin knew, this could be his punishment for speaking disrespectfully to the Crown Prince.
“When you’ve helped Gaius do whatever he needs to be done this morning, I need you to clean my room,” Arthur ordered a while later.
Merlin looked around the chambers, mentally frowning at the piles of dirty clothes Arthur had thrown into a corner and the sheets of paper littering the prince’s desk. How the future King of Camelot managed to create such a mess in the short period of time since Merlin cleaned it last, the warlock would never know.
“Given your speed,” Arthur continued, “you should be done around the time I’m done with training, so you have the pleasure of polishing my armour. And my sword,” he added, as an afterthought.
Arguing was futile, Merlin had learned as much. At least when it came to Arthur’s armour and weapons. They were his prized possessions and Merlin should be lucky he was even entrusted with the cleaning of them.
The pair remained quiet as Arthur finished his breakfast. The silence was only broken when Arthur asked for his mace along with his sword. Merlin mechanically handed the weapon over, gratefully sinking into the closest chair when the door shut behind Arthur.
Merlin felt defeated.
While helping Arthur with his chainmail, there had been no sign of a leather strap around the prince’s neck. He hadn’t worn the favour.
It didn’t necessarily mean anything; Arthur could simply have not put it on since he knew he was going to train after breakfast, but Merlin still felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He had seen Arthur with the leather strap around his neck at breakfast even on training days.
Thinking back, Merlin couldn’t honestly say he’d seen Arthur with the favour around his neck for a few days. He had assumed it was there, cleverly hidden, but now he wasn’t sure. The thought made Merlin’s stomach churn uncomfortably. What if the prince had found out the favour’s meaning and refused to wear it? And to hide his embarrassment and disgust decided not to call Merlin out on it. It wasn’t unusual for Arthur to ignore an awkward situation instead of facing it.
Feeling sorry for himself, Merlin darted out into the hallway and stopped a laundry girl, asking her to tell Gaius that Arthur had piled him with too many chores. The girl gave him a sympathetic smile and promised to deliver the message. Merlin felt a little bad for lying, but Gaius would know immediately something was amiss, and Merlin didn’t feel like explaining to his mentor that he had inappropriate feelings for the Prince.
Merlin allowed himself a few minutes of sitting, before determinedly getting up, pushing aside any negative thoughts. He went through Arthur’s chambers methodically and without magic, picking everything up by hand, putting things away in their right place.
Picking up a ring of Arthur’s from underneath the desk (wondering how Arthur had managed to drop it there), Merlin made his way to Arthur’s bedside drawers. Out of habit, he unlocked the second drawer from the bottom, where Arthur kept most of his most valuable possessions, and froze, the hand holding the ring hovering just above the opened drawer.
Inside, laid a carefully wrapped bundle in a bright red handkerchief with Arthur’s initials.
“What is this?” Merlin mumbled aloud, gently picking it up. His heart beat faster inside his chest. The bundle had a very familiar shape.
Merlin unfolded the bundle, slowly, reverently. His heart skipped a beat as the wheat creation was revealed. His favour. It looked rather pitiful, worse than when Merlin had seen it last. Still, Merlin couldn’t help but cheer; Arthur had kept the favour.
Sinking down on Arthur’s plush bed, Merlin could do little else but stare at the favour in his hands. He could feel himself smiling, powerless (and unwilling) to stop. The same almost hysterical laughter as he’d felt when Arthur first came across the favour was bubbling up in his throat. Merlin let himself laugh, and it filled the room.
He fell back on the bed, clutching the favour close to his chest. Merlin knew his racing heart wasn’t because he was afraid of Arthur catching him with the favour; he wanted Arthur to come back and see Merlin with the favour in his hands.
Chuckling joyfully, Merlin told the canopy: “Try to talk your way out of this one, prat.”
End.
Title: A Time for Reflection
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Arthur/Merlin, implied Merlin/Will
Rating: PG
Summary: Around harvest time, the tradition of countryman favours cause Merlin to miss home. He makes one himself not intending to give it away, and Merlin has to face his feelings when he finds Arthur with the favour. The Prince wasn’t supposed to find it nor does he know the meaning behind it.
Total word count: 4,573
Original prompt number: 44 - Submitted by nuclearsugars
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: I started this without knowing I’d get the prompt or not, and then it just went in a completely different direction than I thought. Less shmoopy than I’d planned. Takes place in the year between S2 and S3.
For reference pictures and more information regarding countryman’s favours, go here and here
Beta(s): furloughday and nyargles - thank you, girls, you are amazing! This fic would not look this good without you. ♥
His first year in Camelot, Merlin didn’t really have time to miss Ealdor and its traditions. Sure, he missed his mother and Will and sometimes the simplicity of country life, but never Ealdor as a place. He liked Camelot. The city - because Merlin thought of Camelot as the castle and its surrounding houses rather than the entire land - had become a home, somewhere Merlin finally felt like he had a place. It was where he belonged.
That and the fact that Arthur had a ridiculous ability to get into trouble - usually of the magical kind - every five minutes. Trouble Merlin had to get him out of. Obviously Merlin couldn’t leave Arthur hanging - he would suffer without Merlin.
It wasn’t until his second year in Camelot that Merlin really had the time to sit down and think about the village where he grew up, think about the things he missed from home.
Since it was harvest time, Arthur had the doubtful pleasure of riding out to the villages of the kingdom to boost morale and see that they were doing their part to keep Camelot glorious. Or something to that effect. Uther had been rather verbose when he told Arthur of his duties and Merlin had tuned the king out after a while - Arthur would relay the ‘highlights’ to Merlin later anyway.
As it were, Arthur dragged Merlin along on the campaign to the outlying villages (“If I have to suffer this heat, you have to suffer it with me, Merlin, instead of lazing around the castle because I’m not around to give you orders!”) and with every village, memories of Ealdor invaded Merlin’s mind. Most villages had the same feeling of togetherness as his childhood home, and the familiar motions of harvest brought a small pang of homesickness.
It grew a little worse when Merlin spotted a small boy yanking on his mother’s skirts, holding a mangled lump of wheat in his hand. Merlin’s heart felt full to the brink of bursting when the boy’s mother accepted the lump with a happy, affectionate smile and promptly attached it to her skirt. The boy’s answering smile was blindingly bright. Even in its distorted, childish form, Merlin recognized the token for what it was: a countryman’s favour - a lover’s token in common tongue.
It seemed that the villages in Camelot had the same traditions as Ealdor, and Merlin found he was pleased to make that discovery. The tradition of making countryman’s favours was a sweet one; a young man would weave wheat - or whatever kind of straw available - into what could pass as a heart and give it to his intended or new love. If the girl wore the favour near her heart the next time he saw her, he would know his love was answered. Will had made one when they were younger. Merlin had found it and asked Will who he had intended to give it to. When Will hadn’t given him a straight answer, Merlin had threatened to wear it himself. At the time, the young boy had assumed this would scare his best friend into revealing who he had his eyes on, but when Will still didn’t say anything, Merlin had been forced to wear it. He had worn Will’s favour until it fell apart.
The boy and his mother weren’t the only example of the tradition of exchanging tokens, Merlin found, as Arthur took him and a handful of knights to other villages. In each village there were at least three young women wearing favours on their blouses or dresses. Each time he saw one, Merlin felt a small stab of jealousy and longing. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt so jealous of the girls, but he could readily admit (though not to Arthur, who would never let Merlin hear the end of it) that he longed for someone to care about him enough to make him something as silly as a countryman’s favour.
Had they not had to return to Camelot for the big Harvest Feast, Arthur would have taken Merlin back to Ealdor to see his mother, Merlin was sure. He could see it in the careful way Arthur never mentioned how close they were to the border and how, the closer they came to King Cendred’s kingdom, the faster Arthur put Merlin to work, as if it would keep Merlin busy enough not to entertain ideas to run away to Ealdor.
Still, Merlin found himself wondering how his mother was and how far she had come in her preparation for the harvest feast. Hunith didn’t go out in the fields during harvest like many of Ealdor’s women, but rather prepared the food. She baked bread and pies with the new harvest.
When they returned to the castle, a few days before the big feast, Arthur released Merlin from several of his duties so he could help out in the kitchen or help Gaius. The court physician seemed to brew endless batches of pain relief potions during harvest - most injuries were due to too much heavy lifting that led to sore muscles. In the evenings, after attending to Arthur, Merlin found himself with straws of wheat, trying to make a countryman’s favour. At first it had been a way to bring something of Ealdor to Camelot, even if it was only a replica of a memory, but it had been a surprisingly calming exercise and Merlin kept braiding. He always burned the favours when he finished. He couldn’t very well leave them lying around, and it was another almost cathartic to allow his magic to flare up and dispose of what his hands had created.
On the evening of the Harvest Feast, Arthur had reinstated Merlin’s duties and as was usual before larger gatherings, Merlin laid out a set of clothes for Arthur. And as usual, Arthur went through another three sets of clothes before he settled for what he wanted to wear. When he came out from behind the dressing screen, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, Merlin nearly choked. On Arthur’s belt, in full view, hung a countryman’s favour. That wasn’t even the worst part of it, Merlin realised, but that the favour looked very familiar. He had made it.
Merlin felt hysteric laughter bubbling up in his throat and quickly busied himself with re-folding one of the discarded tunics. The red ribbon tying the favour together was in Pendragon red and matched Arthur’s jacket perfectly. It was also the only favour Merlin had made with a red ribbon. He’d made it, or finished it rather, the day before while Arthur took a bath. (In the back of his mind, Merlin vaguely remembered shoving it under a book when Arthur complained about the bath water being too cold and that Merlin should heat up a little water so he could bathe a little longer.) He must have forgotten it.
When the immediate danger of hysteric laughter faded, Merlin took the time to straighten up Arthur’s closet. He glanced at Arthur, pulling on his boots on his bed, and the favour hanging off the prince’s belt. He fought to keep his voice steady and unaffected.
“That’s an interesting piece of decoration.”
Arthur looked a little confused until Merlin nodded towards the favour. Arthur touched the wheat creation and nodded.
“Yeah, it is,” he mumbled. “I found it this morning when I was searching for a map for Leon.” Arthur paused for a moment before fixing Merlin with a look. “You know, you really need to get better at the whole cleaning thing. I barely found the map under all that junk,” he gestured to the table that held most of Arthur’s books and papers. “And then I find this thing,” he fingered the favour, “and I have no idea where it came from.”
“Maybe it’s enchanted,” Merlin blurted out.
Arthur stared at Merlin. “What?”
Nodding eagerly, Merlin took a couple steps closer to the prince. “Yeah, you don’t know what it is or who put it in your room. It could have been a sorcerer!” Reaching for the favour, Merlin nodded again. “Best to burn it, sire.”
Arthur easily side-stepped his manservant. “Merlin?”
“Yes?”
“You’re officially even weirder than I thought you could possibly become.” He muttered something Merlin thought sounded suspiciously like ‘idiot’.
“But-”
“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, holding up his hand to keep Merlin quiet. “I know you’re sort of incapable of doing anything useful like keeping people out of my chambers, but there are guards in the castle who, unlike you, know what they’re doing. No one except you and the girl that brought up my lunch have been in here.”
“But-”
“Besides,” Arthur continued, “I’m sure that if this supposed sorcerer planted something in my room, designed to kill me, he would have done so in a less conspicuous manner. Like poison my food, or so something to my bed. He couldn’t very well know I would pick up this-, this thing,” he prodded the favour. Giving Merlin another look, Arthur finished adjusting his tunic. “And even so, I’ve had this thing on me since breakfast and, as you can see, I’m quite alive.”
“What if it wasn’t designed to kill you for several hours, lulling you into a false sense of security?”
When Arthur laughed at that and proceeded to ignore his manservant, Merlin had to concede. It wasn’t highly probable that a sorcerer would enchant something like a favour, let alone put a delaying spell on it. Then again, you never knew with Arthur and his attraction to danger.
There was nothing he could do, though, but follow Arthur to the feast, praying no one would comment on Arthur’s new accessory. Unfortunately, it took all of three second after Arthur had entered the room before Merlin could see servants fighting smiles, many of whom came from villages like Merlin’s and would recognise a countryman’s favours. Thankfully, many of the nobles that had gathered in Camelot for the feast seemed oblivious to the meaning of Arthur’s decoration. Or if they did know, they knew how to hide their amusement.
Uther, however, didn’t even try to hide his confusion. He called Arthur to his side with a single glance and then refused to look at his son, looking out over the assembled people instead.
“Arthur, what is that thing on your belt?”
Arthur looked down on the favour as if he didn’t know what Uther was talking about. “I thought it was appropriate to wear something to show that it’s harvest time,” Arthur said slowly. Merlin fought to breathe properly as Uther remained quiet, only shooting Arthur a side-glance.
“Quite right, son,” Uther declared suddenly with a smile. Merlin felt his shoulders slump in relief as the king clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Good thinking.”
*
Merlin was exhausted and not a little grateful when the feast ended. There hadn’t been any more comments about Arthur’s accessory (even if Morgana had looked between Arthur and Merlin with suspicion in her eyes) after the king had deemed it suitable. Merlin tried not to be too pleased that Arthur had been careful not to damage the favour, holding his hand protectively over it whenever someone came close enough to bump into the prince.
“Should I take the f-, that thing and burn it now, sire?” Merlin asked as, back in the prince’s chambers after the feast, Arthur shrugged off his jacket and toed off his boots, sinking into his chair by the fire.
“My jacket? Good God, Merlin, don’t be an idiot.”
“No, no. Your, eh, decoration.”
Arthur unbuckled his belt and gently dislodged the favour from it, holding it up for scrutiny. Merlin held his hand out for it.
“Arthur?” Merlin questioned when Arthur hadn’t moved, eyes still on the favour.
“What? Yes, no, I’ll take care of it, Merlin.” Arthur still didn’t look up at Merlin. “You were less of an embarrassment tonight, maybe you’re improving.” There was a slight pause where Arthur darted a look at Merlin before he chuckled. “No, that can’t be it. Either way, you’re free to go. I will not be needing your services anymore tonight. Consider that your reward.”
“Thank you, sire, that’s very kind.” Merlin fought not to roll his eyes.
“Yes, of course.”
Merlin stood, undecided whether or not he should press the issue of the favour. It would draw more attention to it, and Arthur would continue wearing it just to spite him, Merlin knew the prince well enough to know that, but on the other hand, Merlin also knew that he didn’t want Arthur to keep the favour. He hadn’t made it for Arthur. Well, he hadn’t made it for anyone in particular, but still, Merlin should be able to give it to someone freely, not have someone take it upon themselves to wear it.
“You’re still here?”
Merlin startled a little and fought not to blush as Arthur looked at him with raised eyebrows.
“Sorry, sire, I’ll be on my way,” he blurted out and managed a half-jerk that could possibly be considered a bow, if you squinted, before darting out of the room.
He had to figure out a way to get the favour off of Arthur and destroy it. There was only so long he could go around pretending he didn’t know what it was when all around him; every servant in the castle were looking at him and the prince with amusement. Rumour had probably spread like wildfire over the prince’s accessory, Merlin was sure, and soon enough someone was going to slip up and tell Arthur what the favour was, and eventually Arthur would link it back to Merlin, and then where would he be?
Merlin paused and had to roll his eyes at himself. Obviously there weren’t going to be any worse consequences than Arthur’s teasing for a while - which already happened frequently - and a talk about leaving things in Arthur’s rooms - which had happened before. Nothing too serious. But the fact remained that Merlin didn’t particularly like the idea of Arthur walking around with a favour that Merlin had made. It didn’t seem right.
*
For reasons Merlin couldn’t even begin to understand, Arthur continued to the favour on his belt in the days after the Harvest Feast, walking around the castle and the village with it swaying gently with each step. Merlin had done his best to dissuade Arthur from wearing it, trying logic (“It’s past the harvest feast, there’s no need to wear that thing, sire”) and ridicule (“You look even more of a prat with that thing on your belt. How that’s possible, I don’t know”) and every other method of persuasion he could think of, but nothing seemed to work. Arthur had a response to everything, none of it in Merlin’s favour.
It was getting a little old hearing the servants break off from their conversations whenever he or Arthur passed, only to hear them giggle or whisper furiously to one another once they had passed. It was very clear that the servants who knew what a favour was had educated the others, and now every single worker in the castle were trying to figure out who it was that had their Prince so enamoured that he would walk around with a countryman’s favour on his belt. Of course, Merlin heard his fair share of rumours that said he was the one who made the favour for the prince. Which, technically, was true, but they didn’t know that.
He wasn’t too surprised about the rumours, there had been worse ones about the prince and himself circulating, but what surprised him was how many there were that honestly believed in that particular rumour. It seemed as though even the knights and Gwen thought the rumour had some credibility.
There were several of the knights who looked at Merlin with something akin to fondness when he came to talk to Arthur during training. Sir Leon had smiled at him and notified Arthur of his presence before Merlin had set foot on the actual training field. The way Arthur immediately broke away from the knights to come see what he wanted (the King had requested Arthur come round to see him after training) didn’t help at all. As Arthur went back to training, Merlin could have sworn he saw Sir Kay and Sir Bors nudge each other, grinning.
Worse was Gwen’s reaction. Merlin felt a little annoyed with the way she had taken to looking alternatively slightly jealous and alternatively amused whenever she saw he and Arthur together. She tried to cover it up with polite smiles, but it tended to fall flat. Merlin reminded himself that Gwen was already stressed, receiving letters from her beloved Lancelot only sporadically, not knowing from week to week whether he was alive and well.
As annoyed as he was by the whispers and the rumours, Merlin found that he had become so used to seeing Arthur anywhere and everywhere (apart from at training) with the stupid favour on his belt, that when he, one day, caught sight of Arthur heading from the king’s chambers, belt empty of decoration save his sword, was startled enough to freeze. Arthur spotted him and promptly relayed a list of duties for him to perform, but all Merlin could focus on was the empty place where his favour had hung just the day before.
“Merlin, is your mental affliction acting up again or is there another particular reason you’re standing there like a common fool?”
Shaking himself out of his daze, Merlin reassured Arthur of his attention and set off to start on the list of chores Arthur had so kindly repeated for him. There was a strange sort of hollow feeling in his chest as he walked away.
Another two days of seeing Arthur without the favour passed until Merlin could admit, at least to himself, that the empty feeling echoing in him was sadness. The prince didn’t know what the favour had meant, but apparently Merlin’s heart had liked the idea of someone wearing his token of affection. Obviously Merlin’s heart was as idiotic as Arthur claimed Merlin was, because it didn’t seem to be bothered by the simple truth that the person who had been wearing the favour hadn’t worn it specifically for Merlin.
Whatever had caused Arthur to stop wearing the favour (Merlin didn’t want to speculate as to the reasons, because it would ultimately lead to freaking out because Arthur somehow finding out the meaning of the favour and tracking it back to Merlin), it thankfully led to life in the castle to go back to normal. Or as normal as it got around a royal castle. No longer did servants giggle (as much) behind Merlin’s back as he went about his chores; they were too occupied with whatever new was scandal circulating the castle rumour mill.
When a full week had gone since the Harvest Feast, Merlin finally felt like he could act like a normal human being around Arthur. He wasn’t searching for the favour, wasn’t thinking about Arthur’s reasons for wearing it. Of course, Merlin’s peace of mind didn’t last for long.
“Hand me my blue tunic, would you Merlin?” Arthur asked (demanded) as the two entered the prince’s chambers after a patrol.
Merlin went to the closet to dig out the right shirt, and promptly froze, shirt in hand, as he turned around to find Arthur stripping of his dirty tunic. It wasn’t so much the sight of Arthur getting undressed as it was his new accessory. Around his neck, on a leather strap and looking a little worse for the wear, hung the favour. Underneath his tunic.
“Merlin! Shirt, please.”
“Of course, sire,” Merlin managed to blurt out, handing the prince his tunic and turning around, busying himself with Arthur’s bedding. His mind reeled. Arthur hadn’t abandoned the favour; he had just taken to wearing it under his shirt rather than on his belt. Closer to his heart, a small voice in Merlin’s head supplied.
“Why are you still wearing that thing?” Merlin cursed his mouth’s tendency to blurt out his thoughts before his brain could interfere. He turned around to look at Arthur. The prince had pulled on the new tunic but he hadn’t hidden the favour away underneath. He looked thoughtful, touching the wheat creation with careful fingers.
“I don’t know, I just like it. I don’t really feel like taking it off.” Merlin could feel his heart speeding up but he pushed any thoughts of why out of his head.
“Maybe it is enchanted, like I said.”
Arthur scoffed. “And maybe I’m a warlock. Merlin, honestly, you’re being ridiculous. It’s not enchanted. I can take this thing off, I just choose not to. I like it.” He paused. “And either way, it’s not like you have any say in what I should or shouldn’t to. I’m the Crown Prince of Camelot. I can do what I want.”
Merlin nodded as if he agreed. “Yes, your highness.”
He grinned when Arthur didn’t seem to care about the less than deferential tone of his voice. It always gave him a minor rush when Arthur no longer reacted to his small ‘rebellious’ actions; it gave him hope that Arthur wouldn’t mind him or his secrets once they came out.
*
For nearly two weeks after realizing Arthur wore the favour underneath his tunic, Merlin felt warm and light despite the chilling weather outside. Arthur had given him a few narrowed glances when he hadn’t reacted to the list of chores other than with a smile and polite, “Yes, sire.”
Merlin caught himself smiling for no reason. It would have been disconcerting had it not felt so wonderful to feel content and happy.
“You’ve been disgustingly happy lately,” Arthur commented with a careful look at Merlin’s face as the latter helped himself to a small portion of Arthur’s breakfast. “Has somebody given you a pup or kitten?”
Merlin narrowed his eyes but chose not to comment when the prince smiled, obviously very amused by his own jibe at his servant.
“Come on, Merlin, tell me.”
“Not when you’re being like this.”
“Like what?”
Merlin couldn’t stop the minor scoff that escaped him, something Arthur was quick to comment on. “Well,” he started slowly. “Like a royal arse.” Merlin mentally winced. Good friends as they were, Arthur was still Merlin’s superior and employer; he shouldn’t speak out of tone like that.
“I am not-”
“You kind of are,” Merlin interrupted. Clearly, his mental filter was off.
Arthur fell silent after that and Merlin could only pick at the food that had looked so delicious a moment ago. His mouth landed him in as much trouble as Arthur’s attraction to danger and hero-complex did.
Eventually Arthur started talking about organizing a hunting trip soon, and Merlin breathed out a sigh of relief. As much as he disliked hunting, he was all for talking about it if it meant Arthur wasn’t going to fire him (again). Then again, for all Merlin knew, this could be his punishment for speaking disrespectfully to the Crown Prince.
“When you’ve helped Gaius do whatever he needs to be done this morning, I need you to clean my room,” Arthur ordered a while later.
Merlin looked around the chambers, mentally frowning at the piles of dirty clothes Arthur had thrown into a corner and the sheets of paper littering the prince’s desk. How the future King of Camelot managed to create such a mess in the short period of time since Merlin cleaned it last, the warlock would never know.
“Given your speed,” Arthur continued, “you should be done around the time I’m done with training, so you have the pleasure of polishing my armour. And my sword,” he added, as an afterthought.
Arguing was futile, Merlin had learned as much. At least when it came to Arthur’s armour and weapons. They were his prized possessions and Merlin should be lucky he was even entrusted with the cleaning of them.
The pair remained quiet as Arthur finished his breakfast. The silence was only broken when Arthur asked for his mace along with his sword. Merlin mechanically handed the weapon over, gratefully sinking into the closest chair when the door shut behind Arthur.
Merlin felt defeated.
While helping Arthur with his chainmail, there had been no sign of a leather strap around the prince’s neck. He hadn’t worn the favour.
It didn’t necessarily mean anything; Arthur could simply have not put it on since he knew he was going to train after breakfast, but Merlin still felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He had seen Arthur with the leather strap around his neck at breakfast even on training days.
Thinking back, Merlin couldn’t honestly say he’d seen Arthur with the favour around his neck for a few days. He had assumed it was there, cleverly hidden, but now he wasn’t sure. The thought made Merlin’s stomach churn uncomfortably. What if the prince had found out the favour’s meaning and refused to wear it? And to hide his embarrassment and disgust decided not to call Merlin out on it. It wasn’t unusual for Arthur to ignore an awkward situation instead of facing it.
Feeling sorry for himself, Merlin darted out into the hallway and stopped a laundry girl, asking her to tell Gaius that Arthur had piled him with too many chores. The girl gave him a sympathetic smile and promised to deliver the message. Merlin felt a little bad for lying, but Gaius would know immediately something was amiss, and Merlin didn’t feel like explaining to his mentor that he had inappropriate feelings for the Prince.
Merlin allowed himself a few minutes of sitting, before determinedly getting up, pushing aside any negative thoughts. He went through Arthur’s chambers methodically and without magic, picking everything up by hand, putting things away in their right place.
Picking up a ring of Arthur’s from underneath the desk (wondering how Arthur had managed to drop it there), Merlin made his way to Arthur’s bedside drawers. Out of habit, he unlocked the second drawer from the bottom, where Arthur kept most of his most valuable possessions, and froze, the hand holding the ring hovering just above the opened drawer.
Inside, laid a carefully wrapped bundle in a bright red handkerchief with Arthur’s initials.
“What is this?” Merlin mumbled aloud, gently picking it up. His heart beat faster inside his chest. The bundle had a very familiar shape.
Merlin unfolded the bundle, slowly, reverently. His heart skipped a beat as the wheat creation was revealed. His favour. It looked rather pitiful, worse than when Merlin had seen it last. Still, Merlin couldn’t help but cheer; Arthur had kept the favour.
Sinking down on Arthur’s plush bed, Merlin could do little else but stare at the favour in his hands. He could feel himself smiling, powerless (and unwilling) to stop. The same almost hysterical laughter as he’d felt when Arthur first came across the favour was bubbling up in his throat. Merlin let himself laugh, and it filled the room.
He fell back on the bed, clutching the favour close to his chest. Merlin knew his racing heart wasn’t because he was afraid of Arthur catching him with the favour; he wanted Arthur to come back and see Merlin with the favour in his hands.
Chuckling joyfully, Merlin told the canopy: “Try to talk your way out of this one, prat.”
End.