To Protect Your Honor (Arthur/Merlin)
Title: To Protect Your Honor
Author: bananahater336
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: Written for this kinkme_merlin prompt: Several knights and/or noblemen start asking Arthur for permission to take Merlin to bed, Arthur don’t understand why until he finds out Merlin is still a virgin, a rare thing in Camelot and something Arthur has to do something about before Merlin gets hurt because of it.
When Arthur was a child, his father often allowed him to play or study quietly at a small table in the corner of the great hall while he conducted business with his council and answered his subjects’ requests. “Perhaps you will learn something about running a kingdom.” He told him once, with a hand warmly squeezing his shoulder, after Arthur had asked several pointed questions about a decree Uther made. “So that you may become a great leader.”
From then on, Arthur’s playthings were often abandoned, his studies finished and set aside quickly so that he could listen to the king’s decisions and debates with his advisors, so that he could ask questions about the things he didn’t understand and feel informed on those he did. He was young, but this was his grooming, and he knew that. Someday, he will sit on that throne himself, perhaps have a son of his own to teach the ways of running a kingdom, and he wanted to learn everything he could.
By the time he was twelve, he knew the ins and outs of warfare and economics almost to the same degree a man twice his age might. His father already allowed him to sit in on council meetings in times of peace, to offer suggestions and solutions that were sometimes met with patient counterarguments and sometimes indulgent chuckles.
No matter how much he learned, however, he could never quite understand why the knights sometimes came to ask his father’s permission to pursue a servant. For a long time, he didn’t ask; he had been quite adept at solving puzzles on his own up to this point, and his father’s smile, which crinkled up the corners of his eyes, when he made it clear he understood a concept no one had taken the time to explain to him, was well worth that. But eventually, it became necessary, when a knight asked for permission to lie with his squire, and he turned to his father with straight shoulders and firmly pursed lips. “Father, may I ask… why is it important that the knights have your permission to court the servants?”
His father dipped his quill into his ink well, cast him a glance. “There are two reasons for that, Arthur. One is an issue of status. Since knights are in a position above servants, consorting with one can in some cases be unseemly. It is also necessary that the knight acts with respect for the people in his service and the service of the crown. To act without chivalry, even toward a servant, is to break the knight’s code.” He signed his name with a flourish in black ink at the end of the scroll he’s written, laid the quill down. “The second reason is the matter of maidenhood.”
“Maidenhood, Father?”
“Yes. When a woman has not yet lain with a man, to take her maidenhood is a great and cherished honor, no matter that woman’s status.”
“But I don’t understand. Why must they ask your permission? Shouldn’t the maiden be able to decide for herself?”
“Of course she may. A woman has every right to decline the offer. My permission is asked in order to make sure that she is not coerced in any way. If she wishes, for her protection, she may come to me personally and formally decline his offer, and he is therefore unable to pursue her further.”
“Because if he does, he breaks the knight’s code?”
“Exactly.”
“But… Sir Richard - he was asking after his squire. Certainly he can’t be a maiden.”
Uther’s head tipped back as he laughed, relaxed into his chair. “You’re certainly right about that. But the same idea applies. Men do not need to have their virtue protected in the same way women do, but they certainly have the same right to respect, which is why they are also asked after.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “They can still feel coerced even if they are men.”
“Yes.” Uther reached for his goblet of water, takes a long drink from it. He set it down close to the edge of the table, tapping it lightly. “Yes. Arthur, you may find that knights often take men as their lovers, more often than they take women in many cases. It is a sacred bond, between a master and a servant; you trust them with everything about your life. It often leads to feelings of gratitude, friendship and yes, in some cases, I suppose love. You will see it often.”
Arthur wasn’t sure why he was being offered this information so offhandedly, but he sat up straighter, sure it must have been important. “Thank you, Father.”
Uther dipped his head slightly. “It is not simply my place as king to give this kind of blessing upon young lovers. When you are of age and have servants in your own command, you will be approached by noblemen for permission to court them. You must think carefully about the characters of the men, not just of their stature, in order to decide.”
Arthur’s shoulders were set, straight and broad, and he nodded firmly. “Yes, Father. Of course.”
***
Arthur does not take the duty lightly, once it is bestowed on him. He carefully questions the intentions of his knights before granting them permission to pursue the virginity of any of the servants, even if that servant has made it clear that there is a mutual attraction between them. He always grants permission in the end, and why wouldn’t he? He knows his knights well. He has chosen them from the best fighters in Camelot, trained them with his own hand in the ways of combat as well as the ethical code he expects any knight who wears the dragon crest to follow. They would not be knights if they were not of strong moral character, not in Camelot, not where Arthur leads them.
He is approached on the training grounds one afternoon by Sir Nicholas. Arthur is quite fond of him, finds he feels great respect for any man who can follow the orders of someone five years his junior and show no trace of wounded pride. Nicholas asks after Mary, a chambermaid that sometimes changes Arthur’s bedclothes and cleans his chamber pots when Merlin seems to think he is above such duties. She is a pretty girl, fair and quiet, and Arthur has often found he admires her slim figure and cheerful smile while she attends to her duties. He is satisfied with the idea of Nicholas for her, as he thinks she is well-suited and perhaps deserving of a chance to be courted and pampered. He grants the permission for her maidenhood easily and thinks little more of it.
It isn’t until perhaps three months later that he sees Mary again. She is tucked into a small alcove in the castle corridor, twisting a handkerchief between her fingers, and Gwen sits beside her, rubbing her back as she weeps. “I just don’t understand.” Mary says quietly, and Arthur slows so he may hear her and not be seen. “He courted me properly, like one might expect a knight to do. I didn’t think I would marry him or anything; I’m not a noblewoman. I just thought that he was going to take me as his lover. Why go to all that trouble to woo me, if he only wants to lie with me once and then run off to consort with the tavern girls?” Arthur’s stomach plummets into his feet, and he steps forward. Both girls jump to their feet, give a little dipping curtsy and a bob of their heads. “My lord.”
He nods slightly, propping his hands on his hips. “I overheard your conversation, I’m afraid. Is it Sir Nicholas you discuss?”
The girls hesitate, exchange a glance, and Mary nods, a blush blooming across her face. “Yes, my lord. I apologize for the conversation. It was improper to speak of such things in such a public setting.”
“It’s alright. I’m afraid I have wronged you. When I granted Sir Nicholas permission to approach you, I was sure he would behave in a much more chivalrous fashion. He shall be properly reprimanded.”
Her eyes go wide, and she dips down again in another curtsy. “Thank you, my lord! It is more than I could have asked for.”
He clears his throat. “Of course.” He carries on down the corridor, taking a deep breath at the sound of their high-pitched tittering behind him.
***
“I would appreciate, Merlin, if you would stop looking at me like that.”
Merlin’s eyes go deceptively wide, and he shakes his head, stooping to collect Arthur’s tunic from where he threw it on the floor before his bath. “I wasn’t looking at you.”
“Of course you were. You might as well have arrows for eyes.” He climbs into bed with a sigh. “What is it?”
Merlin folds the clothes over his arm, pats them slowly. He’s quiet for a long moment. “You stripped Sir Nicholas of his knighthood today.”
Ah. “Yes.” He flops down on his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed. “Sir - Nicholas proved himself to be unsuited to the role of a knight.”
“What did he do? You’ve never revoked anyone’s knighthood before.”
“Merlin, I don’t have to explain every decision I make to you.”
“Alright, alright.” He hums quietly as he collects the rest of the things to be laundered and picks up the tray from Arthur’s dinner, turning toward the door. He hesitates with his shoulder against it. “If it was because of how he treated Mary…” He holds out the words long enough that Arthur’s head snaps around to look at him, and he inwardly curses at himself for the grin this brings to Merlin’s face. “Then I think it’s great. I’m proud of you for it. A knight should be chivalrous and should protect those beneath him, not take advantage of them. I’m glad you did that.” His smile makes his eyes crinkle up, and he dips his head in a slight nod before pushing the door open with his back and sliding out of the room.
Arthur stares after him for a long time before leaning over to blow out the candle.
***
“He’s the type I like, let me tell you.” Sir John was no doubt making bawdy conversation again, if the laughter of the knights was anything to go by. “If only he was a virgin. I would make a bid for him myself.”
Arthur sheathes his sword, wanders over toward the group, who bow deferentially as he approaches. He sweeps up his water skin, taking a long drink. “Who is the subject of our discussion, gentlemen?”
They murmur a little awkwardly amongst themselves, and John dips his head. “Merlin, sire. We were just commenting on what a pretty manservant you have.”
Arthur blinks, feels a heat flush through his chest, and he looks over at Merlin, where he is gathering the weaponry with which Arthur was training in order to take it to the armory for sharpening and polishing. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You hadn’t, sire?” The words are ripe with disbelief. “We were certain with the amount of time he spent in your room…” He trails off at the sharp look Arthur sends him. “Well, if it’s all the same then, sire, would you mind if I had a go?”
He looks levelly at him for a moment. “No knight who speaks so easily and disrespectfully of any servant who works in Camelot will ever be granted my permission to pursue them.” He directs the words at John, but says them loudly enough for all the knights lingering to hear. “So I suggest you all study the knight’s code in regards to chivalry before making such a request again.” He turns briskly on his heel, strides off toward the castle.
***
Gawain’s reputation as a lady’s man (and a man’s man, at that) is not generally kept secret from Arthur. He is present around the campfires when the bawdy jokes and stories of his exploits are told with great detail and expansive, caricaturing reenactments, and the prince often laughs with the rest of them. (It isn’t as if he hasn’t had his share of tumbles with barmaids and fellow knights; he’s far from naïve.) He’s never approached Arthur for permission to pursue a maiden, which is just as well, since Arthur probably wouldn’t grant it.
When he does, as the rest of the knights are heading off the training field, he catches Arthur off-guard with the smooth, straight lines of his face. He goes so far as to bow his head, looking up at him through hooded eyes almost respectfully. Arthur draws himself up, rests his hands on his hips. “Yes?”
“I wish to ask your permission, sire, to pursue a courtship with one of your servants.”
He can almost pretend he doesn’t hear the disdain in his voice at having to ask. He turns to sheathe his sword. “Oh? And which servant is that?”
“Well, to be honest,” his grin appears then, brings light to his eyes, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t bother with this formality, except Merlin said he would prefer if I did.”
Arthur looks up at him, gripping his scabbard tightly. “Merlin?”
“Yes, sire. He said if I wished to court him, I would have to do so with your permission.”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his teeth clicking together sharply on the last. “I will take the matter into consideration.” He offers, his voice wavering slightly.
Gawain’s lips twitch up at the corner, and he bows low. “Many thanks, sire.” He turns on his heel and strolls whistling off after his fellow knights.
Arthur glares after him and decides resolutely to put the whole matter out of his head.
***
“Excuse me, my lord.”
Arthur turns and smiles. “Ah, Sir Percival! Up for a bit of a morning ride? My servant was meant to attend me but as I’m sure you know, that means he’s nowhere to be found.”
The knight smiles and bows slightly before moving off to have his own horse readied.
Arthur tightens the buckles on his saddle, making sure the provisions he has packed for lunch are properly secured before swinging himself up onto the beast. He takes her for a slow plod around the stable, letting her set her own pace and work out the stiffness of her joints that a cold night in the stables brings.
Percival joins him soon enough, and they set off at an easy trot down toward the forest. Arthur likes spending time with Percival. He is quiet, almost somber, and never shows any disrespect toward Arthur. In sparring, he is Arthur’s one true rival, not so much for skill but for the sheer size of the man, and the prince appreciates any challenge, any chance to prove and improve his skills as a warrior.
So when Percival tells him he wishes to have his permission to proceed with something, Arthur is only too glad to hear him out.
“You must forgive me, my lord.” He says in that slow, deliberate way he has, as their horses pick their way through the trees. “I am not of noble birth and am not familiar with the proper protocol for something like this.”
“Sir Percival, you have shown me in the past that you feel no small amount of respect for my station as prince. Don’t worry about the way you ask; just ask.”
There’s a hint of a smile on the knight’s face, but he changes the subject all the same, as if he hasn’t quite decided how to approach his request. Arthur lets him lead the conversation in other directions for a while, knowing they have plenty of time. “I am quite fond of Merlin.” He says eventually, casually, as he ducks his head to avoid a low-hanging branch. “He has been very kind to me since I’ve come to Camelot. It is thanks to him that I have come to consider the city my home.”
“Ah.” Arthur draws himself up. “Merlin has that effect. I don’t think I know a single person who doesn’t like him.”
“Are you yourself fond of him, sire?”
His eyebrows lift, and he presses his lips together for a moment. “I suppose I wouldn’t be so willing to overlook his complete incompetence if I didn’t consider him a dear friend.”
Percival nods, chuckling softly. “I am especially glad then that I decided to approach you. I would like your permission to court Merlin.” Arthur startles and ends up biting his tongue, barely manages to keep from crying out at the pain of it. “You have my word that I would treat him only with the honor and respect he deserves. I…” He hesitates. “I know you denied Gawain the same request I am making, and I think I understand why, in his case. But I would see to Merlin’s safety and comfort for as long as he would have me.”
He is quiet after that, and so is Arthur as he broods over the idea of it. After a long moment, he says, “I am afraid that at this time, with the state the kingdom is in, I cannot part with the services of my manservant, if he were to be… incapacitated for some reason.” He smiles at Percival, cheeks pinking up. “I hope you understand.”
He nods once, and Arthur can tell that the subject has already been put well out of his mind when he says, “Of course, your highness,” and the matter is closed.
***
“Merlin.”
He turns to look at Arthur, eyebrows lifted. “Yes, sire?”
He spins his dinner knife on its tip on the tabletop. “Tell me something. If you were a virgin, and you were not spoken for, did not have a lover to whom that virginity was promised, and your friends, for the sake of your honor decided to ask for permission to court you, would you accept?”
Merlin pauses, leans his chin on the top of his broom, eyes turned up. “Well,” he starts slowly, “if that was the only reason my friend was asking, I would decline, I think. I’d feel thankful, probably, that I had people who cared about me to that degree, that they would want to look after me, but I wouldn’t want my first time to be about… convenience or safety and not about love.” He tilts his head a little, his eyes flickering over toward Arthur. “Why do you ask?”
He shakes his head, sets the knife carefully down on his dinner tray. “No reason. Merlin?”
He looks up from his sweeping again. “Yes, sire?”
“Are you a virgin?”
He grins, a blush blossoming across his cheeks and nose. “Well, I know Gawain asked after me, so I’d say you know the answer to that already, sire.”
“Of course. How do you feel about the fact that Gawain asked after you?”
“I always sort of thought he fancied me, but I never thought he’d do anything about it. When he approached me, I told him standard procedure was to ask you. I’m a little surprised you said no.”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Gawain’s a good man, and you know that.”
“I don’t think Gawain would treat you properly as your first lover. He has seen too many of his own.”
His thin shoulders make his shrug look even more careless and youthful than most do. “Then who would?”
Arthur doesn’t have an answer.
***
It is difficult to deny Lancelot the request, when he makes it. If the knight has any character flaw, it is only that he cares too little for himself and too much for those around him. Arthur knows that, were he to grant Lancelot permission to lie with Merlin, Merlin would be treated like a prince himself.
But Arthur is also aware of Lancelot’s feelings for Gwen. He knows them well enough, though Lancelot tries to pretend they don’t exist, due to Arthur’s own past interest in her. “Tell me, Lancelot.” He takes a long drink from his goblet before continuing. “Why are you interested in bedding Merlin when you could ask the same permission of Guinevere?”
A flush creeps over his skin. “I do not wish just to lie with Guinevere, my lord. I would like to marry her.”
“I see.” He swirls the contents of his goblet, looking down into it. “But that does not fully answer my question.”
“True.” He hesitates, shifting in his seat. “Many of us were present for your chiding of Sir John several weeks ago. We were surprised to glean from the exchange that Merlin is indeed a virgin.”
“Because you thought I had already bedded him?”
“Yes, my lord.” Lancelot grimaces. “As you may know, Gawain is quite fond of Merlin, and he became concerned that someone like Sir John could coerce him into bed somehow. Begging your highness’s pardon, but I think you are unaware of the habits some men make of using the servants and squires to their own ends. We feared Merlin’s sense of good will and desire to see the best in everyone might blind him to those habits as well.”
“So some of you decided it would be best to protect him from that?”
“You don’t seem surprised, my lord.”
“No, I’m not. Not really. I guessed something of the kind after I had requests from both Gawain and Percival of this nature.” He rests his hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. “I am thankful that he has friends as loyal to him as you. I hope he always does.”
He nods. “Are you granting my request, sire?”
“I am not, Lancelot. But I thank you for it. Merlin does not need protection of that nature. However,” he grins slowly, “if you were to ask me for permission to court Guinevere, well, that would be something altogether different.”
Lancelot only blushes in response.
***
A few nights later, Merlin slips into his chambers carefully balancing his dinner. “You have enough to feed three men here!” He complains, sliding it onto the table. “Honestly, Arthur, you’re going to get fat at this rate.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and kicks out the chair next to him. “Well, there’s at least enough for two, you idiot. I want you to join me.”
Merlin’s eyebrow quirks up, and he points a look at the chair. “You want me to join you? Have you had the food poisoned? Are you finally trying to be rid of me?”
“I’d just sack you if I wanted to be rid of you.”
“You have done.”
“Merlin.
“Alright, alright.” He drops into the chair, picks a piece of chicken off the tray and bites into it with a grin.
Arthur watches him for a moment. “As you know, Gawain asked my permission to court you.”
“Yes, I know. We discussed it last week.”
“Right. He is one of three knights to approach me about courting you. Did you know that?”
The look on his face says he didn’t. “Who would want to court me?”
“Apparently, several men who feel very protective toward you.”
“I’m flattered, I suppose. What exactly do I need protection from?”
“Knights with less noble intentions, I suppose.”
“I see.” Merlin plucks a grape off of Arthur’s plate, pops it into his mouth. He chews slowly, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. “I don’t think I like the idea of that.”
“Of what?”
“Of taking me to bed to protect me from other knights who would take me to bed. It seems just as unkind. I’d rather someone want me because he loved me.”
Arthur smiles at him, nodding. “I agree, which is why I denied your friends, despite their good intentions. And which is why…” He purses his lips a little, swallows. “I would like your permission to court you.”
Merlin goes still, looks up at him with wide blue eyes. “You wish to court me.”
It’s not quite a question, but Arthur answers it anyway. “Yes.”
Merlin recovers quickly enough, setting the chicken bone on the edge of the plate. “And not just to protect me?”
“No. I’ve certain beliefs about the feelings that should be present in a courtship.”
“Oh? And what kinds of feelings are those?”
“Fondness.” Arthur manages. “Friendship.”
“But didn’t the other knights feel those things toward me as well?” Merlin asks carefully.
“I wasn’t finished, Merlin.”
“Alright, then, what else?” He steals another grape, bites into it so that juice squirts out.
“You are making yourself completely undesirable.”
He grins cheekily, shrugging. “If you say so. If you’re not wooing me, I’m still eating half of this food.”
They’re mostly quiet as they eat, and Arthur watches Merlin for a long moment. “I don’t think at this point that I could function without you in my life.” He dips his head when Merlin looks up at him, fumbles with his napkin. “Not to say that you’re a decent servant or anything because you’re not.”
“Oh.” Merlin wipes his fingers on the edge of his tunic, absently. “Well.”
“Yes.” He clears his throat. “So I would be honored if you would allow me to court you.”
His eyes crinkle up into little half-moons before he even begins to smile. “Do you always ask to court people this way?”
“I’ve never cared for anyone enough to ask to court him.”
He swallows, nodding. “Then yes. I would like to be courted by you. Well.” He laughs softly. “We could skip the courting if you’d like. I think we’re beyond it.”
Arthur lifts his eyes to his face, notices the stain of pink high on his cheekbones. “You would…?” He trails off, jerks his head in the direction of his bed.
Merlin clears his throat, straightens his shoulders. “I would.”
That’s all it takes really. And it doesn’t happen exactly as Arthur expected it would. They finish their meal, and Merlin clears it away, disappearing to the kitchens before returning to draw Arthur’s bath. When he’s sunk into the waters, Merlin tends to his duties, and Arthur tends to his washing.
After that, Arthur dries himself with a towel, and Merlin undresses carefully, turned away from Arthur, folding his clothes and laying them neatly on the floor. The prince is caught off-guard by the sharp knobs of his spine, the way his head tilted to the side exposes a long length of neck, the soft, narrow slope of his shoulders and the dip in the small of his back - in his own clumsy, awkward way, Merlin is beautiful, and Arthur steps forward, curls his fingers around a thin wrist and draws him over to the bed.
He looks out of place, perched naked on the fine blankets, and Arthur presses gently on his shoulder so that he sprawls back against the pillows, biting his lip. The prince smiles, runs his hand lightly up his thigh, and he is rewarded when Merlin’s legs fall open. “You’re awfully quiet, Merlin.”
He glares at him. “People generally are, in unfamiliar situations.”
“Would you like to stop? We can continue another time?”
“I didn’t say that.” He breathes you, reaches for Arthur’s hands. “Just… kissing? Let’s start with that.”
He moves up to settle beside him, resting his hand on Merlin’s stomach when he directs it there. “I take it you’ve been kissed before.”
“Yes.” He rolls his eyes. “A few girls and Gawain once, when he’d had too much to drink.”
“Hm.” Arthur eyes his mouth for a moment before dipping in to press their lips together.
Merlin’s hand settles immediately on the back of his head, his chin tilting up as he kisses back. He pulls away, sucking his lip between his teeth and petting Arthur’s hair. “You are doing this to protect me, aren’t you?”
He cups Merlin’s jaw, runs his thumb over his cheekbone. “I am doing this because I hate the idea of you doing it with someone else.”
He snorts out a little laugh. “Princes always want everything for themselves.”
“Not everything. Just the good things.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s much better.”
“It was a compliment.”
“You can’t just tell me I’m beautiful like a normal prince? You have to lay claim to me?”
“Merlin.” Arthur cups his cheek, draws his gaze up to his eyes and very carefully says, “You’re beautiful. And you talk too much.” He kisses away Merlin’s retort and settles between his legs.
They don’t speak again outside of whispers for a long time, though Merlin tips his head back and lets out high-pitched whines as Arthur twists his fingers inside him, and Arthur groans when Merlin presses his fingernails into his back as he presses inside of him. They are slow and carefully, and Arthur’s eyes close at the soft exhales of Merlin’s breath, like prayers, against his neck with every rock of his hips forward.
When he comes, it’s with Merlin’s hands laced against the back of his neck and their mouths pressed firmly together, the lithe boy under him trembling as he gasps and surges over the edge himself, and they lie entangled, with Arthur’s fingers resting against Merlin’s pulse, kissing and touching, until he finds Merlin suddenly laughing, and he huffs. “What’s so funny then?”
“I didn’t know you could be quiet this long. I’ll have to come to your bed more often.”
Arthur growls and rolls him over. “You’d better come to my bed for many reasons more than that.”
Merlin’s smile fades, and he runs his fingers across Arthur’s shoulders. “I’d come to your bed if you just asked.”
And Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that, so he kisses him instead.
And the next week, when a knight approaches him, he smiles and tells him that Merlin is spoken for, and Merlin complains loudly that he is not a girl, but he’s secretly pleased, and Arthur knows well enough to just ignore him.(Arthur/Merlin)
Author: bananahater336
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: Written for this kinkme_merlin prompt: Several knights and/or noblemen start asking Arthur for permission to take Merlin to bed, Arthur don’t understand why until he finds out Merlin is still a virgin, a rare thing in Camelot and something Arthur has to do something about before Merlin gets hurt because of it.
When Arthur was a child, his father often allowed him to play or study quietly at a small table in the corner of the great hall while he conducted business with his council and answered his subjects’ requests. “Perhaps you will learn something about running a kingdom.” He told him once, with a hand warmly squeezing his shoulder, after Arthur had asked several pointed questions about a decree Uther made. “So that you may become a great leader.”
From then on, Arthur’s playthings were often abandoned, his studies finished and set aside quickly so that he could listen to the king’s decisions and debates with his advisors, so that he could ask questions about the things he didn’t understand and feel informed on those he did. He was young, but this was his grooming, and he knew that. Someday, he will sit on that throne himself, perhaps have a son of his own to teach the ways of running a kingdom, and he wanted to learn everything he could.
By the time he was twelve, he knew the ins and outs of warfare and economics almost to the same degree a man twice his age might. His father already allowed him to sit in on council meetings in times of peace, to offer suggestions and solutions that were sometimes met with patient counterarguments and sometimes indulgent chuckles.
No matter how much he learned, however, he could never quite understand why the knights sometimes came to ask his father’s permission to pursue a servant. For a long time, he didn’t ask; he had been quite adept at solving puzzles on his own up to this point, and his father’s smile, which crinkled up the corners of his eyes, when he made it clear he understood a concept no one had taken the time to explain to him, was well worth that. But eventually, it became necessary, when a knight asked for permission to lie with his squire, and he turned to his father with straight shoulders and firmly pursed lips. “Father, may I ask… why is it important that the knights have your permission to court the servants?”
His father dipped his quill into his ink well, cast him a glance. “There are two reasons for that, Arthur. One is an issue of status. Since knights are in a position above servants, consorting with one can in some cases be unseemly. It is also necessary that the knight acts with respect for the people in his service and the service of the crown. To act without chivalry, even toward a servant, is to break the knight’s code.” He signed his name with a flourish in black ink at the end of the scroll he’s written, laid the quill down. “The second reason is the matter of maidenhood.”
“Maidenhood, Father?”
“Yes. When a woman has not yet lain with a man, to take her maidenhood is a great and cherished honor, no matter that woman’s status.”
“But I don’t understand. Why must they ask your permission? Shouldn’t the maiden be able to decide for herself?”
“Of course she may. A woman has every right to decline the offer. My permission is asked in order to make sure that she is not coerced in any way. If she wishes, for her protection, she may come to me personally and formally decline his offer, and he is therefore unable to pursue her further.”
“Because if he does, he breaks the knight’s code?”
“Exactly.”
“But… Sir Richard - he was asking after his squire. Certainly he can’t be a maiden.”
Uther’s head tipped back as he laughed, relaxed into his chair. “You’re certainly right about that. But the same idea applies. Men do not need to have their virtue protected in the same way women do, but they certainly have the same right to respect, which is why they are also asked after.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “They can still feel coerced even if they are men.”
“Yes.” Uther reached for his goblet of water, takes a long drink from it. He set it down close to the edge of the table, tapping it lightly. “Yes. Arthur, you may find that knights often take men as their lovers, more often than they take women in many cases. It is a sacred bond, between a master and a servant; you trust them with everything about your life. It often leads to feelings of gratitude, friendship and yes, in some cases, I suppose love. You will see it often.”
Arthur wasn’t sure why he was being offered this information so offhandedly, but he sat up straighter, sure it must have been important. “Thank you, Father.”
Uther dipped his head slightly. “It is not simply my place as king to give this kind of blessing upon young lovers. When you are of age and have servants in your own command, you will be approached by noblemen for permission to court them. You must think carefully about the characters of the men, not just of their stature, in order to decide.”
Arthur’s shoulders were set, straight and broad, and he nodded firmly. “Yes, Father. Of course.”
***
Arthur does not take the duty lightly, once it is bestowed on him. He carefully questions the intentions of his knights before granting them permission to pursue the virginity of any of the servants, even if that servant has made it clear that there is a mutual attraction between them. He always grants permission in the end, and why wouldn’t he? He knows his knights well. He has chosen them from the best fighters in Camelot, trained them with his own hand in the ways of combat as well as the ethical code he expects any knight who wears the dragon crest to follow. They would not be knights if they were not of strong moral character, not in Camelot, not where Arthur leads them.
He is approached on the training grounds one afternoon by Sir Nicholas. Arthur is quite fond of him, finds he feels great respect for any man who can follow the orders of someone five years his junior and show no trace of wounded pride. Nicholas asks after Mary, a chambermaid that sometimes changes Arthur’s bedclothes and cleans his chamber pots when Merlin seems to think he is above such duties. She is a pretty girl, fair and quiet, and Arthur has often found he admires her slim figure and cheerful smile while she attends to her duties. He is satisfied with the idea of Nicholas for her, as he thinks she is well-suited and perhaps deserving of a chance to be courted and pampered. He grants the permission for her maidenhood easily and thinks little more of it.
It isn’t until perhaps three months later that he sees Mary again. She is tucked into a small alcove in the castle corridor, twisting a handkerchief between her fingers, and Gwen sits beside her, rubbing her back as she weeps. “I just don’t understand.” Mary says quietly, and Arthur slows so he may hear her and not be seen. “He courted me properly, like one might expect a knight to do. I didn’t think I would marry him or anything; I’m not a noblewoman. I just thought that he was going to take me as his lover. Why go to all that trouble to woo me, if he only wants to lie with me once and then run off to consort with the tavern girls?” Arthur’s stomach plummets into his feet, and he steps forward. Both girls jump to their feet, give a little dipping curtsy and a bob of their heads. “My lord.”
He nods slightly, propping his hands on his hips. “I overheard your conversation, I’m afraid. Is it Sir Nicholas you discuss?”
The girls hesitate, exchange a glance, and Mary nods, a blush blooming across her face. “Yes, my lord. I apologize for the conversation. It was improper to speak of such things in such a public setting.”
“It’s alright. I’m afraid I have wronged you. When I granted Sir Nicholas permission to approach you, I was sure he would behave in a much more chivalrous fashion. He shall be properly reprimanded.”
Her eyes go wide, and she dips down again in another curtsy. “Thank you, my lord! It is more than I could have asked for.”
He clears his throat. “Of course.” He carries on down the corridor, taking a deep breath at the sound of their high-pitched tittering behind him.
***
“I would appreciate, Merlin, if you would stop looking at me like that.”
Merlin’s eyes go deceptively wide, and he shakes his head, stooping to collect Arthur’s tunic from where he threw it on the floor before his bath. “I wasn’t looking at you.”
“Of course you were. You might as well have arrows for eyes.” He climbs into bed with a sigh. “What is it?”
Merlin folds the clothes over his arm, pats them slowly. He’s quiet for a long moment. “You stripped Sir Nicholas of his knighthood today.”
Ah. “Yes.” He flops down on his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed. “Sir - Nicholas proved himself to be unsuited to the role of a knight.”
“What did he do? You’ve never revoked anyone’s knighthood before.”
“Merlin, I don’t have to explain every decision I make to you.”
“Alright, alright.” He hums quietly as he collects the rest of the things to be laundered and picks up the tray from Arthur’s dinner, turning toward the door. He hesitates with his shoulder against it. “If it was because of how he treated Mary…” He holds out the words long enough that Arthur’s head snaps around to look at him, and he inwardly curses at himself for the grin this brings to Merlin’s face. “Then I think it’s great. I’m proud of you for it. A knight should be chivalrous and should protect those beneath him, not take advantage of them. I’m glad you did that.” His smile makes his eyes crinkle up, and he dips his head in a slight nod before pushing the door open with his back and sliding out of the room.
Arthur stares after him for a long time before leaning over to blow out the candle.
***
“He’s the type I like, let me tell you.” Sir John was no doubt making bawdy conversation again, if the laughter of the knights was anything to go by. “If only he was a virgin. I would make a bid for him myself.”
Arthur sheathes his sword, wanders over toward the group, who bow deferentially as he approaches. He sweeps up his water skin, taking a long drink. “Who is the subject of our discussion, gentlemen?”
They murmur a little awkwardly amongst themselves, and John dips his head. “Merlin, sire. We were just commenting on what a pretty manservant you have.”
Arthur blinks, feels a heat flush through his chest, and he looks over at Merlin, where he is gathering the weaponry with which Arthur was training in order to take it to the armory for sharpening and polishing. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You hadn’t, sire?” The words are ripe with disbelief. “We were certain with the amount of time he spent in your room…” He trails off at the sharp look Arthur sends him. “Well, if it’s all the same then, sire, would you mind if I had a go?”
He looks levelly at him for a moment. “No knight who speaks so easily and disrespectfully of any servant who works in Camelot will ever be granted my permission to pursue them.” He directs the words at John, but says them loudly enough for all the knights lingering to hear. “So I suggest you all study the knight’s code in regards to chivalry before making such a request again.” He turns briskly on his heel, strides off toward the castle.
***
Gawain’s reputation as a lady’s man (and a man’s man, at that) is not generally kept secret from Arthur. He is present around the campfires when the bawdy jokes and stories of his exploits are told with great detail and expansive, caricaturing reenactments, and the prince often laughs with the rest of them. (It isn’t as if he hasn’t had his share of tumbles with barmaids and fellow knights; he’s far from naïve.) He’s never approached Arthur for permission to pursue a maiden, which is just as well, since Arthur probably wouldn’t grant it.
When he does, as the rest of the knights are heading off the training field, he catches Arthur off-guard with the smooth, straight lines of his face. He goes so far as to bow his head, looking up at him through hooded eyes almost respectfully. Arthur draws himself up, rests his hands on his hips. “Yes?”
“I wish to ask your permission, sire, to pursue a courtship with one of your servants.”
He can almost pretend he doesn’t hear the disdain in his voice at having to ask. He turns to sheathe his sword. “Oh? And which servant is that?”
“Well, to be honest,” his grin appears then, brings light to his eyes, and he runs a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t bother with this formality, except Merlin said he would prefer if I did.”
Arthur looks up at him, gripping his scabbard tightly. “Merlin?”
“Yes, sire. He said if I wished to court him, I would have to do so with your permission.”
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, his teeth clicking together sharply on the last. “I will take the matter into consideration.” He offers, his voice wavering slightly.
Gawain’s lips twitch up at the corner, and he bows low. “Many thanks, sire.” He turns on his heel and strolls whistling off after his fellow knights.
Arthur glares after him and decides resolutely to put the whole matter out of his head.
***
“Excuse me, my lord.”
Arthur turns and smiles. “Ah, Sir Percival! Up for a bit of a morning ride? My servant was meant to attend me but as I’m sure you know, that means he’s nowhere to be found.”
The knight smiles and bows slightly before moving off to have his own horse readied.
Arthur tightens the buckles on his saddle, making sure the provisions he has packed for lunch are properly secured before swinging himself up onto the beast. He takes her for a slow plod around the stable, letting her set her own pace and work out the stiffness of her joints that a cold night in the stables brings.
Percival joins him soon enough, and they set off at an easy trot down toward the forest. Arthur likes spending time with Percival. He is quiet, almost somber, and never shows any disrespect toward Arthur. In sparring, he is Arthur’s one true rival, not so much for skill but for the sheer size of the man, and the prince appreciates any challenge, any chance to prove and improve his skills as a warrior.
So when Percival tells him he wishes to have his permission to proceed with something, Arthur is only too glad to hear him out.
“You must forgive me, my lord.” He says in that slow, deliberate way he has, as their horses pick their way through the trees. “I am not of noble birth and am not familiar with the proper protocol for something like this.”
“Sir Percival, you have shown me in the past that you feel no small amount of respect for my station as prince. Don’t worry about the way you ask; just ask.”
There’s a hint of a smile on the knight’s face, but he changes the subject all the same, as if he hasn’t quite decided how to approach his request. Arthur lets him lead the conversation in other directions for a while, knowing they have plenty of time. “I am quite fond of Merlin.” He says eventually, casually, as he ducks his head to avoid a low-hanging branch. “He has been very kind to me since I’ve come to Camelot. It is thanks to him that I have come to consider the city my home.”
“Ah.” Arthur draws himself up. “Merlin has that effect. I don’t think I know a single person who doesn’t like him.”
“Are you yourself fond of him, sire?”
His eyebrows lift, and he presses his lips together for a moment. “I suppose I wouldn’t be so willing to overlook his complete incompetence if I didn’t consider him a dear friend.”
Percival nods, chuckling softly. “I am especially glad then that I decided to approach you. I would like your permission to court Merlin.” Arthur startles and ends up biting his tongue, barely manages to keep from crying out at the pain of it. “You have my word that I would treat him only with the honor and respect he deserves. I…” He hesitates. “I know you denied Gawain the same request I am making, and I think I understand why, in his case. But I would see to Merlin’s safety and comfort for as long as he would have me.”
He is quiet after that, and so is Arthur as he broods over the idea of it. After a long moment, he says, “I am afraid that at this time, with the state the kingdom is in, I cannot part with the services of my manservant, if he were to be… incapacitated for some reason.” He smiles at Percival, cheeks pinking up. “I hope you understand.”
He nods once, and Arthur can tell that the subject has already been put well out of his mind when he says, “Of course, your highness,” and the matter is closed.
***
“Merlin.”
He turns to look at Arthur, eyebrows lifted. “Yes, sire?”
He spins his dinner knife on its tip on the tabletop. “Tell me something. If you were a virgin, and you were not spoken for, did not have a lover to whom that virginity was promised, and your friends, for the sake of your honor decided to ask for permission to court you, would you accept?”
Merlin pauses, leans his chin on the top of his broom, eyes turned up. “Well,” he starts slowly, “if that was the only reason my friend was asking, I would decline, I think. I’d feel thankful, probably, that I had people who cared about me to that degree, that they would want to look after me, but I wouldn’t want my first time to be about… convenience or safety and not about love.” He tilts his head a little, his eyes flickering over toward Arthur. “Why do you ask?”
He shakes his head, sets the knife carefully down on his dinner tray. “No reason. Merlin?”
He looks up from his sweeping again. “Yes, sire?”
“Are you a virgin?”
He grins, a blush blossoming across his cheeks and nose. “Well, I know Gawain asked after me, so I’d say you know the answer to that already, sire.”
“Of course. How do you feel about the fact that Gawain asked after you?”
“I always sort of thought he fancied me, but I never thought he’d do anything about it. When he approached me, I told him standard procedure was to ask you. I’m a little surprised you said no.”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Gawain’s a good man, and you know that.”
“I don’t think Gawain would treat you properly as your first lover. He has seen too many of his own.”
His thin shoulders make his shrug look even more careless and youthful than most do. “Then who would?”
Arthur doesn’t have an answer.
***
It is difficult to deny Lancelot the request, when he makes it. If the knight has any character flaw, it is only that he cares too little for himself and too much for those around him. Arthur knows that, were he to grant Lancelot permission to lie with Merlin, Merlin would be treated like a prince himself.
But Arthur is also aware of Lancelot’s feelings for Gwen. He knows them well enough, though Lancelot tries to pretend they don’t exist, due to Arthur’s own past interest in her. “Tell me, Lancelot.” He takes a long drink from his goblet before continuing. “Why are you interested in bedding Merlin when you could ask the same permission of Guinevere?”
A flush creeps over his skin. “I do not wish just to lie with Guinevere, my lord. I would like to marry her.”
“I see.” He swirls the contents of his goblet, looking down into it. “But that does not fully answer my question.”
“True.” He hesitates, shifting in his seat. “Many of us were present for your chiding of Sir John several weeks ago. We were surprised to glean from the exchange that Merlin is indeed a virgin.”
“Because you thought I had already bedded him?”
“Yes, my lord.” Lancelot grimaces. “As you may know, Gawain is quite fond of Merlin, and he became concerned that someone like Sir John could coerce him into bed somehow. Begging your highness’s pardon, but I think you are unaware of the habits some men make of using the servants and squires to their own ends. We feared Merlin’s sense of good will and desire to see the best in everyone might blind him to those habits as well.”
“So some of you decided it would be best to protect him from that?”
“You don’t seem surprised, my lord.”
“No, I’m not. Not really. I guessed something of the kind after I had requests from both Gawain and Percival of this nature.” He rests his hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. “I am thankful that he has friends as loyal to him as you. I hope he always does.”
He nods. “Are you granting my request, sire?”
“I am not, Lancelot. But I thank you for it. Merlin does not need protection of that nature. However,” he grins slowly, “if you were to ask me for permission to court Guinevere, well, that would be something altogether different.”
Lancelot only blushes in response.
***
A few nights later, Merlin slips into his chambers carefully balancing his dinner. “You have enough to feed three men here!” He complains, sliding it onto the table. “Honestly, Arthur, you’re going to get fat at this rate.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and kicks out the chair next to him. “Well, there’s at least enough for two, you idiot. I want you to join me.”
Merlin’s eyebrow quirks up, and he points a look at the chair. “You want me to join you? Have you had the food poisoned? Are you finally trying to be rid of me?”
“I’d just sack you if I wanted to be rid of you.”
“You have done.”
“Merlin.
“Alright, alright.” He drops into the chair, picks a piece of chicken off the tray and bites into it with a grin.
Arthur watches him for a moment. “As you know, Gawain asked my permission to court you.”
“Yes, I know. We discussed it last week.”
“Right. He is one of three knights to approach me about courting you. Did you know that?”
The look on his face says he didn’t. “Who would want to court me?”
“Apparently, several men who feel very protective toward you.”
“I’m flattered, I suppose. What exactly do I need protection from?”
“Knights with less noble intentions, I suppose.”
“I see.” Merlin plucks a grape off of Arthur’s plate, pops it into his mouth. He chews slowly, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. “I don’t think I like the idea of that.”
“Of what?”
“Of taking me to bed to protect me from other knights who would take me to bed. It seems just as unkind. I’d rather someone want me because he loved me.”
Arthur smiles at him, nodding. “I agree, which is why I denied your friends, despite their good intentions. And which is why…” He purses his lips a little, swallows. “I would like your permission to court you.”
Merlin goes still, looks up at him with wide blue eyes. “You wish to court me.”
It’s not quite a question, but Arthur answers it anyway. “Yes.”
Merlin recovers quickly enough, setting the chicken bone on the edge of the plate. “And not just to protect me?”
“No. I’ve certain beliefs about the feelings that should be present in a courtship.”
“Oh? And what kinds of feelings are those?”
“Fondness.” Arthur manages. “Friendship.”
“But didn’t the other knights feel those things toward me as well?” Merlin asks carefully.
“I wasn’t finished, Merlin.”
“Alright, then, what else?” He steals another grape, bites into it so that juice squirts out.
“You are making yourself completely undesirable.”
He grins cheekily, shrugging. “If you say so. If you’re not wooing me, I’m still eating half of this food.”
They’re mostly quiet as they eat, and Arthur watches Merlin for a long moment. “I don’t think at this point that I could function without you in my life.” He dips his head when Merlin looks up at him, fumbles with his napkin. “Not to say that you’re a decent servant or anything because you’re not.”
“Oh.” Merlin wipes his fingers on the edge of his tunic, absently. “Well.”
“Yes.” He clears his throat. “So I would be honored if you would allow me to court you.”
His eyes crinkle up into little half-moons before he even begins to smile. “Do you always ask to court people this way?”
“I’ve never cared for anyone enough to ask to court him.”
He swallows, nodding. “Then yes. I would like to be courted by you. Well.” He laughs softly. “We could skip the courting if you’d like. I think we’re beyond it.”
Arthur lifts his eyes to his face, notices the stain of pink high on his cheekbones. “You would…?” He trails off, jerks his head in the direction of his bed.
Merlin clears his throat, straightens his shoulders. “I would.”
That’s all it takes really. And it doesn’t happen exactly as Arthur expected it would. They finish their meal, and Merlin clears it away, disappearing to the kitchens before returning to draw Arthur’s bath. When he’s sunk into the waters, Merlin tends to his duties, and Arthur tends to his washing.
After that, Arthur dries himself with a towel, and Merlin undresses carefully, turned away from Arthur, folding his clothes and laying them neatly on the floor. The prince is caught off-guard by the sharp knobs of his spine, the way his head tilted to the side exposes a long length of neck, the soft, narrow slope of his shoulders and the dip in the small of his back - in his own clumsy, awkward way, Merlin is beautiful, and Arthur steps forward, curls his fingers around a thin wrist and draws him over to the bed.
He looks out of place, perched naked on the fine blankets, and Arthur presses gently on his shoulder so that he sprawls back against the pillows, biting his lip. The prince smiles, runs his hand lightly up his thigh, and he is rewarded when Merlin’s legs fall open. “You’re awfully quiet, Merlin.”
He glares at him. “People generally are, in unfamiliar situations.”
“Would you like to stop? We can continue another time?”
“I didn’t say that.” He breathes you, reaches for Arthur’s hands. “Just… kissing? Let’s start with that.”
He moves up to settle beside him, resting his hand on Merlin’s stomach when he directs it there. “I take it you’ve been kissed before.”
“Yes.” He rolls his eyes. “A few girls and Gawain once, when he’d had too much to drink.”
“Hm.” Arthur eyes his mouth for a moment before dipping in to press their lips together.
Merlin’s hand settles immediately on the back of his head, his chin tilting up as he kisses back. He pulls away, sucking his lip between his teeth and petting Arthur’s hair. “You are doing this to protect me, aren’t you?”
He cups Merlin’s jaw, runs his thumb over his cheekbone. “I am doing this because I hate the idea of you doing it with someone else.”
He snorts out a little laugh. “Princes always want everything for themselves.”
“Not everything. Just the good things.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s much better.”
“It was a compliment.”
“You can’t just tell me I’m beautiful like a normal prince? You have to lay claim to me?”
“Merlin.” Arthur cups his cheek, draws his gaze up to his eyes and very carefully says, “You’re beautiful. And you talk too much.” He kisses away Merlin’s retort and settles between his legs.
They don’t speak again outside of whispers for a long time, though Merlin tips his head back and lets out high-pitched whines as Arthur twists his fingers inside him, and Arthur groans when Merlin presses his fingernails into his back as he presses inside of him. They are slow and carefully, and Arthur’s eyes close at the soft exhales of Merlin’s breath, like prayers, against his neck with every rock of his hips forward.
When he comes, it’s with Merlin’s hands laced against the back of his neck and their mouths pressed firmly together, the lithe boy under him trembling as he gasps and surges over the edge himself, and they lie entangled, with Arthur’s fingers resting against Merlin’s pulse, kissing and touching, until he finds Merlin suddenly laughing, and he huffs. “What’s so funny then?”
“I didn’t know you could be quiet this long. I’ll have to come to your bed more often.”
Arthur growls and rolls him over. “You’d better come to my bed for many reasons more than that.”
Merlin’s smile fades, and he runs his fingers across Arthur’s shoulders. “I’d come to your bed if you just asked.”
And Arthur doesn’t know what to say to that, so he kisses him instead.
And the next week, when a knight approaches him, he smiles and tells him that Merlin is spoken for, and Merlin complains loudly that he is not a girl, but he’s secretly pleased, and Arthur knows well enough to just ignore him.(Arthur/Merlin)