Man's Best Friend [1/1]
Title: Man's Best Friend
Pairings: Gen.
Characters: Merlin, Arthur
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: BBC owns my soul (and my fandom).
Word count: 3,477
Warnings/Notes: AU. Totally AU. Dog!Merlin. Also unbeta'd. (Does anybody want to volunteer? I'm on the look-out.)
Summary: One day, a skinny, floppy-eared, yellow-eyed dog saves Arthur's life.
+++
Arthur’s bow creaked softly when he drew back the arrow, the doe firmly in sight. She was unaware of the dangers she was in, peacefully grazing in the meadow beyond the trees that hid Arthur from sight. She was young and fast and would make a good meal. A meal fit for the king.
He barely heard the rustling behind him before a dark shape knocked into him, sending him sprawling to the ground. He had his knife out and raised in a heartbeat, ready to cut his attacker’s throat, but the creature - the dog - merely settled on his chest and blinked down at him. Over its shoulder, Arthur could see an arrow lodged into the bark of a tree right where Arthur’s torso had been a moment ago.
Arthur let his dagger sink and his head drop.
“You were just trying to help, weren’t you?” he asked the dog, who regarded him curiously.
Hasty footsteps in the undergrowth alerted both Arthur and the dog. A squire burst into the clearing, saw a shaggy animal perched on Arthur’s chest, and drew all the wrong conclusions.
“Sire!” he cried, reaching for his crossbow, “Don’t move, I’ll get it off you.”
Without even thinking about it, Arthur threw himself around, shielding the dog with his body. He glared at the man over his shoulder.
“He saved me, you idiot,” he said, “That’s more than you have managed.”
He levered himself up from the dirt and brushed off his tunic.
“He’s coming with us,” he declared, snapping his fingers at the dog as he passed the flustered squire, “And find out which incompetent fool fired an arrow at his prince.”
+++
As it turned out, the dog refused to follow Arthur when he was on horseback, no matter how many stern looks and raised fingers Arthur treated him to, and court etiquette dictated that if Arthur wasn’t on horseback then no one else could be either, so the entire hunting party was forced to walk home.
The dog, unaware that he was the cause of such a fuss, was more than happy to trot alongside Arthur, sniffing the roadside brush and getting underfoot and generally being a nuisance. He followed some of Arthur’s commands readily and ignored others completely and ought to have been completely infuriating, but mostly Arthur just felt fond amusement. Used to the court’s carefully bred animals, Arthur couldn’t help but think that his new companion was not particularly aesthetically pleasing - surprisingly skinny for such a large dog, with shaggy hair, big floppy ears, and guileless yellow eyes - and possibly a little slow.
“You look ridiculous,” he told him. The dog panted happily and Arthur, after quickly glancing over his shoulder, reached over and scratched him between the ears.
+++
The dog was agreeable enough until Arthur fastened a leash around his neck and handed it over to a stable worker.
“Go with Henry,” he said to the dog and turned away to tend to his horse. The dog’s whine stopped him. He had dug his paws into the ground, resisting the stable hand’s tugging and coaxing, and was staring at Arthur with a heartbroken look in his eyes.
Arthur pointed a stern finger towards the stables.
“I said, go with Henry,” he repeated, more forcefully this time, and raised his eyebrows at the creature. The dog gave another pitiful cry.
“You are most certainly not coming with me,” Arthur told him, “You are going to the stables with the other dogs, and that’s final.”
With another mournful look, the dog slinked away, tail tucked unhappily between his legs. Arthur shook his head at his retreating back.
He turned around when he heard an affectionate “Arthur” behind him to see his father come sweeping down the stairs, arms spread invitingly.
“How was the hunt?” he asked, “Did you catch something interesting?”
Arthur couldn’t resist a wry smile.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said.
+++
Arthur was woken by a flustered stable hand reporting that the new dog had somehow spooked the horses, which in turn had broken loose and wreaked havoc on the lower town.
He cursed all the way down to the courtyard, fighting with his belt and vest, only to find the horses mostly returned and the dog cowering sheepishly in the corner. He spent a while helping with repairs and promising compensation to angry merchants and homeowners before he returned to his little miscreant.
“You,” he said, twining the lead around his hand, “are obviously a great deal more trouble than you’re worth.”
The dog nosed his knee in what Arthur decided was an apologetic manner and then wagged his tail all the way up to Arthur’s chambers.
+++
The dog took off to explore the moment Arthur closed the door behind them. He sniffed the rug in front of the fireplace, crawled under the bed, and knocked over a vase when he attempted to scale the dresser. Arthur managed to catch the vase and right it before it shattered into a million pieces. Then he snatched the dog’s collar and dragged him back to the fireplace.
“You are not a cat,” he scolded, “and you are entirely too large and clumsy to act like one, so stop it.”
The dog whimpered.
“Deal with it,” Arthur told him. “I, being the prince, have duties to attend to, so you just lie right here and stay out of trouble.”
+++
When Arthur returned late that evening, it was to find his rooms in a complete state of disarray and the dog happily wagging his tail in the middle of it all.
“You-“ Arthur began, then he sighed and threw up his hands. “I’m going to bed.”
He had barely managed to undress and slip under the covers when the dog’s head popped up next to the bed.
“No,” Arthur told him firmly, turned and burrowed his head into his pillow.
+++
He woke in the middle of the night when the mattress dipped under a large weight. With a groan, he pushed the dog back off the bed.
“No.”
+++
He woke in the morning to find the dog a comfortable weight on his feet. For a moment, he debated forcing the issue, but the dog looked almost graceful fast asleep and Arthur’s feet were a lot warmer than they usually were, so he sank back into the cushions and tried to catch a few more moments of uninterrupted rest.
+++
As revenge for the mess in his chambers, Arthur dragged the whining and cringing dog out to the training grounds so early that he could still see fog in the valley. He found a sturdy stick on the ground and undid the leash from the dog’s collar.
“Let’s see how much of a hunting instinct you have,” Arthur told him and threw the stick as far as his strength would allow, which was quite a distance, if he did say so himself.
The dog cocked his head at him.
“Fetch,” Arthur told him.
The dog sniffed the ground, curious, then turned and trotted back to the stables.
“I told you to fetch!” Arthur yelled after him, pointing furiously after the stick.
The dog whined.
With a heartfelt sigh, Arthur refastened the lead and celebrated the pointless expedition by giving the dog an admittedly mild cuff around the ears.
“You’re useless,” he told him, “The most incompetent dog I have ever seen.”
The dog barked happily and followed him, playfully snapping at his heels.
+++
Compared to the dog’s constant whining, yowling, and attention seeking, the political discussions that Arthur was forced to attend were almost a relief. His father narrowed his eyes at him when Arthur yawned, but seemed pleased with Arthur’s suggestions and even offered an unexpected compliment that warmed Arthur’s insides like nothing else could.
Wrapped up as he was in their plans, Arthur barely looked up when the old court physician entered the court room, but to his surprise, Gaius leaned over to whisper into his ear instead of his father’s.
“My liege, it appears your newest acquisition has escaped your chambers. I have him in my rooms at the moment. Should I keep him there until this evening?”
Under his father’s careful scrutiny, Arthur put his head in his hands and sighed.
“Please do,” he muttered, “I will be by to pick him up later today.”
“Very well, my Lord,” Gaius murmured and, after an innocent smile in the king’s direction, left the room.
+++
Arthur undid the leash from the dog’s collar and knelt down in the dirt in front of him.
“Gaius thought you might just have excess energy, being cooped up in my chambers all day after spending so long surviving on your own. Although how you managed that is anyone’s guess.”
The dog put his paws on Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur pushed him off.
“Therefore,” he said pointedly, “we are going to try hunting again.”
He sat down to wait, absently scratching the dog’s ears, until he saw movement in the grass. A rabbit hopped along not far from them, and any self-respecting hunting dog would have gone after it immediately. Arthur’s dog did not.
A quick glance confirmed that the dog seemed to have dozed off. Arthur nudged it.
“Go,” he hissed, “Go catch the rabbit.”
The dog yipped and the rabbit, alerted by the noise, was off like a shot. To Arthur’s amazement, the dog followed it without further prompting. He tore across the field and into the forest, crashing through the undergrowth, and disappeared between the trees.
Arthur waited, as patiently and attentively as princes did, until the dog slinked back to him, tail tucked back and no prey in sight.
“Bested by a rabbit,” Arthur tsked. He scratched the back of the dog’s neck and tilted his head to look at him.
“Maybe that’s what I ought to call you. Rabbit. What do you think?”
The dog growled.
“No?” Arthur asked, “I believe it would be very fitting.”
The dog snapped at Arthur’s hand.
“No.” Arthur caught his snout and held it firmly closed until the dog whimpered and sank down to his haunches in submission.
“Not Rabbit, then,” Arthur said. “That’s fine. I’m not entirely sure you have the mental capacity of one, anyway.”
He relinquished his grip and reached over to scratch the dog’s ears, rolling his eyes when the dog panted happily, his earlier grievance already forgotten.
+++
Arthur opened the door to his chambers to find the dog sprawled happily on his back and Morgana’s maidservant scratching his belly. She cringed at the sight of Arthur in the doorway and hastily stood. The dog made a soft protesting noise and rolled to his feet as well, butting her thigh with his head.
The girl flushed.
“I am so sorry, my liege,” she hastened to assure Arthur, “It’s only that he was whining at the door when I came in, and he seemed so happy to see me that I couldn’t just leave him on his own again. I apologize. I’ll leave immediately.”
She gathered her skirts about her and made to leave, and only a pointed “Guinevere” stopped her. She turned back and curtsied nervously. Arthur’s smile only seemed to take her aback.
“It’s fine,” he said, “I don’t mind. I’m glad someone is around to keep him out of trouble.”
“Your highness,” she whispered and hurried away. The dog whined at her retreating back but quieted back down when Arthur took up the spot the handmaiden had abandoned and began to pet his stomach. He angled his paws and cocked his head, wriggling all over Arthur’s carpet in delight. Arthur wanted to say something witty and disparaging, but he had to admit that the dog was probably lonely being by himself all day, so he simply kept on petting.
+++
“Hey! Mutt!,” Arthur called for what seemed like the one-hundredth time. He cast a surveying look around the courtyard, but if the dog had heard him, he did not deem it necessary to appear. Cursing himself and his dog and the idiot who had opened the door to his chambers so carelessly, Arthur stomped down to the servant’s quarters and then the stables, all the while calling for the faithless animal.
He found his disloyal companion in an unused stable between empty crates and tools that needed repairing. One of the boxes, as Arthur found out, housed a litter of kittens just barely big enough to begin exploring. They toddled to and fro in the straw lining the inside of the crate, and a few daring ones had even scaled its walls and clambered on to freedom. The dog lay sprawled between them, letting the braver ones burrow into his fur and perch on top of his head.
With a disbelieving shake of his head, Arthur sat down next to him and reached into the crate, scooping up one of the kittens and settling it against his chest.
“This is what you get up to in your spare time?” he asked, “You serve as plaything for your mortal enemies?”
The dog, who had been watching one of the kittens, a tabby, clumsily swat at his nose, blinked at him. Arthur rolled his eyes.
“You are a disgrace to your kind. Were you a person, I would call you the village idiot.”
The dog grumbled unhappily.
“Would you rather I called you Kitten?” Arthur asked him, allowing the small creature he was holding to clamber up his vest and settle down on his shoulder. The dog glared at him over the top of the tabby’s tiny head.
“No, I suppose not,” Arthur mused when his own little companion dug its teeth into his finger, “This one has the makings of a real hunter. You have all the predatory instincts of a shoe scraper.”
+++
“If you have to have a pet to follow you around,” his father asked one day with an exasperated wave of his hand, “could you not choose one of the hunting dogs? Does it have to be that mongrel?”
Arthur looked down at the dog drooling on his boots and then back at his father.
“He saved my life, sire,” he said.
The king gave the dog an assessing look. “Then keep him in your chambers. Express your gratitude somewhere less… public.”
Arthur let one hand drop off his armrest and the dog lifted his head, sniffed, and happily slobbered all over his fingers. Arthur resisted the urge to wipe them clean on his trousers and shifted forward in his chair.
“I believe we have business to discuss?” he said.
+++
Arthur emerged from behind the folding screen, drying his damp hair with a towel, to find the dog with his front paws on the table and his snout in Arthur’s breakfast.
“Hey,” he snapped, “Get down from there, you greedy little beast.”
The dog flinched guiltily and dropped to the ground, taking a basket of fruits with him. Arthur sighed.
“I don’t even know how to punish you anymore,” he said, admittedly sounding more defeated than stern, “It’s not like anything seems to have any effect.”
The dog whined loudly and rolled over, exposing his belly.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Oh, spare me the theatrics. Those eyes won’t change the fact that you’re in very hot water right now.”
The dog moaned and whined again. Frowning, Arthur knelt down next to him and laid one hand on his ribs. The dog’s heart was hammering an erratic beat and his legs twitched like he was having a bad dream. Froth was forming at the corner of his mouth.
Dread settled at the pit of Arthur’s stomach. He hoisted the dog into his arms and staggered to his feet.
“Ought to put you on a diet,” he grunted, but he managed to carry the creature all the way to the physician’s chambers.
Gaius cleared the worktable with a sweep of his arm and Arthur gently arranged the dog on the wooden surface, laying one hand on his neck when he let hear another pitiful moan.
“What happened, sire?” Gaius asked even as he peered into the dog’s eyes.
The dog whined when the old physician did something to his ears. Arthur petted him absently.
“He got into my breakfast. I think it was poisoned.”
Gaius looked over in alarm.
“Are you alright, sire?” he demanded, “If that is true, then your life is at stake. You should not be here.”
Suddenly exhausted, Arthur sank into a chair, although he kept one hand tangled in the dog’s dark fur.
“Just save my dog, Gaius.”
+++
After the dog had been saved, the person responsible for trying to poison the crown prince of Camelot had been found and arrested, a political crisis had been averted, and his father had given him a vicious dressing-down for putting off important state business to tend to a dog, Arthur stumbled back to his chambers to curl up in his favorite armchair with the mutt at his feet. He tended to the dog for several days, keeping careful watch over his recovery and making sure he did whatever the old physician recommended.
When Gaius finally told him to try some exercise, Arthur dragged the dog out into the field and reveled in being outdoors again.
“Hunting is good for the soul,” he told the dog, “Being cooped up inside like a woman is not.”
The dog didn’t appear too thrilled, nor did he appear to be listening, but Arthur knew he was secretly hanging on every word. After all, Arthur fed him and let him sleep in his chambers and took him hunting. It was of no consequence that the dog didn’t seem to enjoy hunting all that much. After all, Arthur loved it enough for the both of them.
He spotted a suitable target swooping through the tree tops and nudged his companion with his knee.
“Let’s see if you have better luck with birds.”
The dog bounded away, once again disappearing in the undergrowth. Arthur had a hard time closing his mouth when he returned not too long afterwards, bird caught between his teeth and tail wagging happily.
“You cannot be serious.”
He opened his hand and the dog dropped his quarry - a young merlin - into it, still happily wagging his tail. Arthur inspected the soggy bird, but there was no denying that its neck had been crushed by powerful jaws, and only recently: it was still warm.
“You are unbelievable, you know that?”
The dog yipped and bounded around Arthur like a puppy, bumping his snout against Arthur’s leg and stepping on his boots with his filthy paws.
“You must have cheated somehow,” Arthur told him, letting the dog slobber over his free hand to celebrate the occasion, “But I suppose Merlin it is.”
+++
Arthur woke in pain. He felt as though he were still wearing his armor, his limbs sluggish and slow and almost impossible to lift. His head throbbed and his eyes burned and the wound in his shoulder stung so badly he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out.
“What happened?” he forced out.
“Your highness,” someone said, startled. Gaius, Arthur decided. He could almost make out the grizzled face.
“What happened?” he repeated.
“You were attacked by a creature, sire,” Gaius said carefully, “a creature of magic. Merlin drove it away.”
“The mutt?” Arthur mumbled. “Is he okay?”
“He fought bravely,” Gaius said.
Ice settled in Arthur’s stomach and he forced his tired eyes to focus.
“Where is my dog, Gaius?” he said. He let his hand drop over the edge of the bed, searching, and glared at the old man.
“He-“ Gaius began, but then something wet pressed against Arthur’s palm, and he would not have thought that he could ever be so relieved to feel the dog’s tongue on his fingers.
“Hello, mutt,” he whispered.
He barely felt the dog disappear before a large furry mass jumped on the bed next to him. Frowning, he brushed his fingers over the bandage wrapped tightly around one front leg.
“He is in otherwise perfect health,” Gaius informed him. “Unlike you, your highness.”
Arthur reached over to scratch the dog’s ears.
“I’ll live,” he said absently.
Gaius harrumphed softly but murmured, “Good night, sire,” when he left. The dog turned a few times before settling down next to Arthur who poked him in the side.
“You are not supposed to be up here, you cheeky little bugger,” he said. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The dog nosed his hand and Arthur smiled.
“You’re a good friend,” he said.
Merlin thumped his tail against the covers and tried to lick Arthur’s face. Arthur pushed him off.
“Not that good a friend,” he said, but he rolled over and buried his face in the soft fur anyway.
+++
Feedback is my one true love!
Pairings: Gen.
Characters: Merlin, Arthur
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: BBC owns my soul (and my fandom).
Word count: 3,477
Warnings/Notes: AU. Totally AU. Dog!Merlin. Also unbeta'd. (Does anybody want to volunteer? I'm on the look-out.)
Summary: One day, a skinny, floppy-eared, yellow-eyed dog saves Arthur's life.
+++
Arthur’s bow creaked softly when he drew back the arrow, the doe firmly in sight. She was unaware of the dangers she was in, peacefully grazing in the meadow beyond the trees that hid Arthur from sight. She was young and fast and would make a good meal. A meal fit for the king.
He barely heard the rustling behind him before a dark shape knocked into him, sending him sprawling to the ground. He had his knife out and raised in a heartbeat, ready to cut his attacker’s throat, but the creature - the dog - merely settled on his chest and blinked down at him. Over its shoulder, Arthur could see an arrow lodged into the bark of a tree right where Arthur’s torso had been a moment ago.
Arthur let his dagger sink and his head drop.
“You were just trying to help, weren’t you?” he asked the dog, who regarded him curiously.
Hasty footsteps in the undergrowth alerted both Arthur and the dog. A squire burst into the clearing, saw a shaggy animal perched on Arthur’s chest, and drew all the wrong conclusions.
“Sire!” he cried, reaching for his crossbow, “Don’t move, I’ll get it off you.”
Without even thinking about it, Arthur threw himself around, shielding the dog with his body. He glared at the man over his shoulder.
“He saved me, you idiot,” he said, “That’s more than you have managed.”
He levered himself up from the dirt and brushed off his tunic.
“He’s coming with us,” he declared, snapping his fingers at the dog as he passed the flustered squire, “And find out which incompetent fool fired an arrow at his prince.”
+++
As it turned out, the dog refused to follow Arthur when he was on horseback, no matter how many stern looks and raised fingers Arthur treated him to, and court etiquette dictated that if Arthur wasn’t on horseback then no one else could be either, so the entire hunting party was forced to walk home.
The dog, unaware that he was the cause of such a fuss, was more than happy to trot alongside Arthur, sniffing the roadside brush and getting underfoot and generally being a nuisance. He followed some of Arthur’s commands readily and ignored others completely and ought to have been completely infuriating, but mostly Arthur just felt fond amusement. Used to the court’s carefully bred animals, Arthur couldn’t help but think that his new companion was not particularly aesthetically pleasing - surprisingly skinny for such a large dog, with shaggy hair, big floppy ears, and guileless yellow eyes - and possibly a little slow.
“You look ridiculous,” he told him. The dog panted happily and Arthur, after quickly glancing over his shoulder, reached over and scratched him between the ears.
+++
The dog was agreeable enough until Arthur fastened a leash around his neck and handed it over to a stable worker.
“Go with Henry,” he said to the dog and turned away to tend to his horse. The dog’s whine stopped him. He had dug his paws into the ground, resisting the stable hand’s tugging and coaxing, and was staring at Arthur with a heartbroken look in his eyes.
Arthur pointed a stern finger towards the stables.
“I said, go with Henry,” he repeated, more forcefully this time, and raised his eyebrows at the creature. The dog gave another pitiful cry.
“You are most certainly not coming with me,” Arthur told him, “You are going to the stables with the other dogs, and that’s final.”
With another mournful look, the dog slinked away, tail tucked unhappily between his legs. Arthur shook his head at his retreating back.
He turned around when he heard an affectionate “Arthur” behind him to see his father come sweeping down the stairs, arms spread invitingly.
“How was the hunt?” he asked, “Did you catch something interesting?”
Arthur couldn’t resist a wry smile.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said.
+++
Arthur was woken by a flustered stable hand reporting that the new dog had somehow spooked the horses, which in turn had broken loose and wreaked havoc on the lower town.
He cursed all the way down to the courtyard, fighting with his belt and vest, only to find the horses mostly returned and the dog cowering sheepishly in the corner. He spent a while helping with repairs and promising compensation to angry merchants and homeowners before he returned to his little miscreant.
“You,” he said, twining the lead around his hand, “are obviously a great deal more trouble than you’re worth.”
The dog nosed his knee in what Arthur decided was an apologetic manner and then wagged his tail all the way up to Arthur’s chambers.
+++
The dog took off to explore the moment Arthur closed the door behind them. He sniffed the rug in front of the fireplace, crawled under the bed, and knocked over a vase when he attempted to scale the dresser. Arthur managed to catch the vase and right it before it shattered into a million pieces. Then he snatched the dog’s collar and dragged him back to the fireplace.
“You are not a cat,” he scolded, “and you are entirely too large and clumsy to act like one, so stop it.”
The dog whimpered.
“Deal with it,” Arthur told him. “I, being the prince, have duties to attend to, so you just lie right here and stay out of trouble.”
+++
When Arthur returned late that evening, it was to find his rooms in a complete state of disarray and the dog happily wagging his tail in the middle of it all.
“You-“ Arthur began, then he sighed and threw up his hands. “I’m going to bed.”
He had barely managed to undress and slip under the covers when the dog’s head popped up next to the bed.
“No,” Arthur told him firmly, turned and burrowed his head into his pillow.
+++
He woke in the middle of the night when the mattress dipped under a large weight. With a groan, he pushed the dog back off the bed.
“No.”
+++
He woke in the morning to find the dog a comfortable weight on his feet. For a moment, he debated forcing the issue, but the dog looked almost graceful fast asleep and Arthur’s feet were a lot warmer than they usually were, so he sank back into the cushions and tried to catch a few more moments of uninterrupted rest.
+++
As revenge for the mess in his chambers, Arthur dragged the whining and cringing dog out to the training grounds so early that he could still see fog in the valley. He found a sturdy stick on the ground and undid the leash from the dog’s collar.
“Let’s see how much of a hunting instinct you have,” Arthur told him and threw the stick as far as his strength would allow, which was quite a distance, if he did say so himself.
The dog cocked his head at him.
“Fetch,” Arthur told him.
The dog sniffed the ground, curious, then turned and trotted back to the stables.
“I told you to fetch!” Arthur yelled after him, pointing furiously after the stick.
The dog whined.
With a heartfelt sigh, Arthur refastened the lead and celebrated the pointless expedition by giving the dog an admittedly mild cuff around the ears.
“You’re useless,” he told him, “The most incompetent dog I have ever seen.”
The dog barked happily and followed him, playfully snapping at his heels.
+++
Compared to the dog’s constant whining, yowling, and attention seeking, the political discussions that Arthur was forced to attend were almost a relief. His father narrowed his eyes at him when Arthur yawned, but seemed pleased with Arthur’s suggestions and even offered an unexpected compliment that warmed Arthur’s insides like nothing else could.
Wrapped up as he was in their plans, Arthur barely looked up when the old court physician entered the court room, but to his surprise, Gaius leaned over to whisper into his ear instead of his father’s.
“My liege, it appears your newest acquisition has escaped your chambers. I have him in my rooms at the moment. Should I keep him there until this evening?”
Under his father’s careful scrutiny, Arthur put his head in his hands and sighed.
“Please do,” he muttered, “I will be by to pick him up later today.”
“Very well, my Lord,” Gaius murmured and, after an innocent smile in the king’s direction, left the room.
+++
Arthur undid the leash from the dog’s collar and knelt down in the dirt in front of him.
“Gaius thought you might just have excess energy, being cooped up in my chambers all day after spending so long surviving on your own. Although how you managed that is anyone’s guess.”
The dog put his paws on Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur pushed him off.
“Therefore,” he said pointedly, “we are going to try hunting again.”
He sat down to wait, absently scratching the dog’s ears, until he saw movement in the grass. A rabbit hopped along not far from them, and any self-respecting hunting dog would have gone after it immediately. Arthur’s dog did not.
A quick glance confirmed that the dog seemed to have dozed off. Arthur nudged it.
“Go,” he hissed, “Go catch the rabbit.”
The dog yipped and the rabbit, alerted by the noise, was off like a shot. To Arthur’s amazement, the dog followed it without further prompting. He tore across the field and into the forest, crashing through the undergrowth, and disappeared between the trees.
Arthur waited, as patiently and attentively as princes did, until the dog slinked back to him, tail tucked back and no prey in sight.
“Bested by a rabbit,” Arthur tsked. He scratched the back of the dog’s neck and tilted his head to look at him.
“Maybe that’s what I ought to call you. Rabbit. What do you think?”
The dog growled.
“No?” Arthur asked, “I believe it would be very fitting.”
The dog snapped at Arthur’s hand.
“No.” Arthur caught his snout and held it firmly closed until the dog whimpered and sank down to his haunches in submission.
“Not Rabbit, then,” Arthur said. “That’s fine. I’m not entirely sure you have the mental capacity of one, anyway.”
He relinquished his grip and reached over to scratch the dog’s ears, rolling his eyes when the dog panted happily, his earlier grievance already forgotten.
+++
Arthur opened the door to his chambers to find the dog sprawled happily on his back and Morgana’s maidservant scratching his belly. She cringed at the sight of Arthur in the doorway and hastily stood. The dog made a soft protesting noise and rolled to his feet as well, butting her thigh with his head.
The girl flushed.
“I am so sorry, my liege,” she hastened to assure Arthur, “It’s only that he was whining at the door when I came in, and he seemed so happy to see me that I couldn’t just leave him on his own again. I apologize. I’ll leave immediately.”
She gathered her skirts about her and made to leave, and only a pointed “Guinevere” stopped her. She turned back and curtsied nervously. Arthur’s smile only seemed to take her aback.
“It’s fine,” he said, “I don’t mind. I’m glad someone is around to keep him out of trouble.”
“Your highness,” she whispered and hurried away. The dog whined at her retreating back but quieted back down when Arthur took up the spot the handmaiden had abandoned and began to pet his stomach. He angled his paws and cocked his head, wriggling all over Arthur’s carpet in delight. Arthur wanted to say something witty and disparaging, but he had to admit that the dog was probably lonely being by himself all day, so he simply kept on petting.
+++
“Hey! Mutt!,” Arthur called for what seemed like the one-hundredth time. He cast a surveying look around the courtyard, but if the dog had heard him, he did not deem it necessary to appear. Cursing himself and his dog and the idiot who had opened the door to his chambers so carelessly, Arthur stomped down to the servant’s quarters and then the stables, all the while calling for the faithless animal.
He found his disloyal companion in an unused stable between empty crates and tools that needed repairing. One of the boxes, as Arthur found out, housed a litter of kittens just barely big enough to begin exploring. They toddled to and fro in the straw lining the inside of the crate, and a few daring ones had even scaled its walls and clambered on to freedom. The dog lay sprawled between them, letting the braver ones burrow into his fur and perch on top of his head.
With a disbelieving shake of his head, Arthur sat down next to him and reached into the crate, scooping up one of the kittens and settling it against his chest.
“This is what you get up to in your spare time?” he asked, “You serve as plaything for your mortal enemies?”
The dog, who had been watching one of the kittens, a tabby, clumsily swat at his nose, blinked at him. Arthur rolled his eyes.
“You are a disgrace to your kind. Were you a person, I would call you the village idiot.”
The dog grumbled unhappily.
“Would you rather I called you Kitten?” Arthur asked him, allowing the small creature he was holding to clamber up his vest and settle down on his shoulder. The dog glared at him over the top of the tabby’s tiny head.
“No, I suppose not,” Arthur mused when his own little companion dug its teeth into his finger, “This one has the makings of a real hunter. You have all the predatory instincts of a shoe scraper.”
+++
“If you have to have a pet to follow you around,” his father asked one day with an exasperated wave of his hand, “could you not choose one of the hunting dogs? Does it have to be that mongrel?”
Arthur looked down at the dog drooling on his boots and then back at his father.
“He saved my life, sire,” he said.
The king gave the dog an assessing look. “Then keep him in your chambers. Express your gratitude somewhere less… public.”
Arthur let one hand drop off his armrest and the dog lifted his head, sniffed, and happily slobbered all over his fingers. Arthur resisted the urge to wipe them clean on his trousers and shifted forward in his chair.
“I believe we have business to discuss?” he said.
+++
Arthur emerged from behind the folding screen, drying his damp hair with a towel, to find the dog with his front paws on the table and his snout in Arthur’s breakfast.
“Hey,” he snapped, “Get down from there, you greedy little beast.”
The dog flinched guiltily and dropped to the ground, taking a basket of fruits with him. Arthur sighed.
“I don’t even know how to punish you anymore,” he said, admittedly sounding more defeated than stern, “It’s not like anything seems to have any effect.”
The dog whined loudly and rolled over, exposing his belly.
Arthur rolled his eyes.
“Oh, spare me the theatrics. Those eyes won’t change the fact that you’re in very hot water right now.”
The dog moaned and whined again. Frowning, Arthur knelt down next to him and laid one hand on his ribs. The dog’s heart was hammering an erratic beat and his legs twitched like he was having a bad dream. Froth was forming at the corner of his mouth.
Dread settled at the pit of Arthur’s stomach. He hoisted the dog into his arms and staggered to his feet.
“Ought to put you on a diet,” he grunted, but he managed to carry the creature all the way to the physician’s chambers.
Gaius cleared the worktable with a sweep of his arm and Arthur gently arranged the dog on the wooden surface, laying one hand on his neck when he let hear another pitiful moan.
“What happened, sire?” Gaius asked even as he peered into the dog’s eyes.
The dog whined when the old physician did something to his ears. Arthur petted him absently.
“He got into my breakfast. I think it was poisoned.”
Gaius looked over in alarm.
“Are you alright, sire?” he demanded, “If that is true, then your life is at stake. You should not be here.”
Suddenly exhausted, Arthur sank into a chair, although he kept one hand tangled in the dog’s dark fur.
“Just save my dog, Gaius.”
+++
After the dog had been saved, the person responsible for trying to poison the crown prince of Camelot had been found and arrested, a political crisis had been averted, and his father had given him a vicious dressing-down for putting off important state business to tend to a dog, Arthur stumbled back to his chambers to curl up in his favorite armchair with the mutt at his feet. He tended to the dog for several days, keeping careful watch over his recovery and making sure he did whatever the old physician recommended.
When Gaius finally told him to try some exercise, Arthur dragged the dog out into the field and reveled in being outdoors again.
“Hunting is good for the soul,” he told the dog, “Being cooped up inside like a woman is not.”
The dog didn’t appear too thrilled, nor did he appear to be listening, but Arthur knew he was secretly hanging on every word. After all, Arthur fed him and let him sleep in his chambers and took him hunting. It was of no consequence that the dog didn’t seem to enjoy hunting all that much. After all, Arthur loved it enough for the both of them.
He spotted a suitable target swooping through the tree tops and nudged his companion with his knee.
“Let’s see if you have better luck with birds.”
The dog bounded away, once again disappearing in the undergrowth. Arthur had a hard time closing his mouth when he returned not too long afterwards, bird caught between his teeth and tail wagging happily.
“You cannot be serious.”
He opened his hand and the dog dropped his quarry - a young merlin - into it, still happily wagging his tail. Arthur inspected the soggy bird, but there was no denying that its neck had been crushed by powerful jaws, and only recently: it was still warm.
“You are unbelievable, you know that?”
The dog yipped and bounded around Arthur like a puppy, bumping his snout against Arthur’s leg and stepping on his boots with his filthy paws.
“You must have cheated somehow,” Arthur told him, letting the dog slobber over his free hand to celebrate the occasion, “But I suppose Merlin it is.”
+++
Arthur woke in pain. He felt as though he were still wearing his armor, his limbs sluggish and slow and almost impossible to lift. His head throbbed and his eyes burned and the wound in his shoulder stung so badly he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out.
“What happened?” he forced out.
“Your highness,” someone said, startled. Gaius, Arthur decided. He could almost make out the grizzled face.
“What happened?” he repeated.
“You were attacked by a creature, sire,” Gaius said carefully, “a creature of magic. Merlin drove it away.”
“The mutt?” Arthur mumbled. “Is he okay?”
“He fought bravely,” Gaius said.
Ice settled in Arthur’s stomach and he forced his tired eyes to focus.
“Where is my dog, Gaius?” he said. He let his hand drop over the edge of the bed, searching, and glared at the old man.
“He-“ Gaius began, but then something wet pressed against Arthur’s palm, and he would not have thought that he could ever be so relieved to feel the dog’s tongue on his fingers.
“Hello, mutt,” he whispered.
He barely felt the dog disappear before a large furry mass jumped on the bed next to him. Frowning, he brushed his fingers over the bandage wrapped tightly around one front leg.
“He is in otherwise perfect health,” Gaius informed him. “Unlike you, your highness.”
Arthur reached over to scratch the dog’s ears.
“I’ll live,” he said absently.
Gaius harrumphed softly but murmured, “Good night, sire,” when he left. The dog turned a few times before settling down next to Arthur who poked him in the side.
“You are not supposed to be up here, you cheeky little bugger,” he said. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The dog nosed his hand and Arthur smiled.
“You’re a good friend,” he said.
Merlin thumped his tail against the covers and tried to lick Arthur’s face. Arthur pushed him off.
“Not that good a friend,” he said, but he rolled over and buried his face in the soft fur anyway.
+++
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