I had this idea and it just wrote itself. To be honest, I just wanted to see how Arthur would react to a cat. This is purely crack so enjoy! disclaimer: the BBC owns merlin, I do not.
Arthur was in shock, and not for the first time that day. It wasn't that he didn't find it cute, he did (although he'd be loathed to admit it to anyone) and it wasn't that he didn't find the person who brought it cute, he did. (Wait what, no!) It was just that…
"It's a cat, Merlin."
"I know!" the servant in question beamed. "Isn't it adorable?"
Arthur grimaced. "It's a cat."
"Yes."
"A cat, Merlin. What possible need could you have for a cat?"
"Well… I found it in town and it just looked so sad! It was staring up at me with those eyes!" to prove his point, Merlin thrust the cat up into Arthur's face, giving him an excellent view of the cats eyes. Those huge, green, simpering, manipulating, adorable eyes. Arthur heaved a sigh.
"Ok, Merlin. You can keep it."
Merlin grinned, even bigger than his usual over enthusiastic smile, and walked away happily. When he said walked, Arthur really meant skipped. Merlin was skipping. "You're such a girl!" he called after him and only got a laugh in response.
Arthur did not know how much he would come to regret letting Merlin keep the cat.
At first, he hardly noticed it. It mostly stayed in Gaius and Merlin's shared chambers where it could stay out of trouble. Of course, no one thought that perhaps putting a cat in a room filled with various glass bottles full of unidentifiable, possibly lethal liquids might be a bad idea. At least, nobody thought that until it knocked over a shelf of potions resulting in a livid Gaius and Merlin actually using the servant's antechambers on the side of Arthur's own rooms.
Merlin brought the cat with him.
"It's called Gwen." Merlin told him as Arthur almost tripped over the damn animal for the third time that day. He sank down on his bed and sighed.
"Merlin, it's a male cat. It can't be called Gwen. Besides, we already have a Gwen – the cat can't have her name. And its male, Merlin. Are you blind?"
Merlin had the audacity to look slightly offended. "Are you sure, sire? I'm fairly certain it's female…"
"Have you asked Gaius?"
Merlin frowned. "Gaius is refusing to speak to me right now. I hear him muttering under his breath about Gwen sometimes."
Arthur had to hide a very un-prince like snort behind an impromptu cough.
"It wasn't her fault, Arthur! She was just playing and the shelf was in the way!"
"Ok, Merlin. If you say so." Arthur said, just to shut him up.
"I do say so." Merlin crossed his arms, somewhat defiantly and somewhat resembling a small child who thinks he has won an argument. Arthur couldn't hold his snort in this time.
A lazy meow suddenly broke through his amusement and Arthur turned to find the source of the noise. It was the cat. Of course it was. The cat. The cat which was pawing at Arthur's bedclothes, ripping the (ridiculously expensive) silk to shreds and drooling on his pillow. Arthur could barely contain his rage, but because he was prince, and it wouldn't do for him to suddenly order the execution of a cat of all things, he simply picked up his goblet, perfectly calm, and flung it at Merlin's head. It connected with a satisfying clunk and a shout of indignation that made Arthur feel slightly better.
Once his servant had recovered from the flying goblet, Arthur fixed him with a glare – one that he'd been perfecting since birth. It was the you are in so much trouble right now and I am tempted to burn you at the pyre, but instead you're going to clear up this mess you've made and get out of my sight glare.
Arthur's glares could convey a surprising variety of emotions.
Merlin gulped.
"Get me new bedclothes, clean the floor and for God's sake, get rid of the cat hair. I'm going to train." He said, still glaring. Merlin nodded. "Oh, and Merlin?" Arthur added as he stomped away, "A week in the stocks."
Merlin nodded again, the slightest hint of amusement on his face.
"What are you looking at?" Arthur growled at the cat as it sat innocently on top of what was Arthur's duvet. It looked back at him with those eyes, trying to win his favour. Arthur knew better. He knew what it was. It was an evil, manipulative, evil, foul, vile monster. Did he mention that it was evil?
The cat meowed.
Arthur turned his back on it and stalked out, slamming the door.
A few weeks later, he was in the courtroom with his father, his most trusted nobles and Arthur's knights. And Merlin.
Merlin and the cat.
It was like they were an extension of each other – two clumsy, chaotic beings determined to cause havoc. And cause havoc they did.
It took the cat all of five minutes to get bored of slinking around Merlin's legs as he stood to attention behind Arthur. (Well, slouched to attention, but it was Merlin. Arthur didn't expect anything else.) Once it had decided that Merlin was no longer of any interest, Gwen, as it was still called, it padded softly under the table. The only reason Arthur knew that, was the fact that it brushed harshly against his leg as it passed, choosing to forgo him in favour of Leon, who's face suddenly contorted. Trying not to laugh, Arthur could only assume it had climbed into his lap.
The Knight was going to be so angry.
Then, Arthur felt something else brush past his leg and, inconspicuously leaning down, saw Merlin's sheepish face peering up.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he whispered, putting a certain amount of venom and disbelief in his words.
"Well," Merlin faltered, "Gwen. She…"
"He."
"Whatever. He ran under here and I'm trying to get her…"
"Him."
"Him back."
Arthur's eyebrow rose.
"Is there something wrong, your majesty?" one of the nobles asked him suddenly and he shot back up from beneath the table, schooling his expression into one of normality.
"No, not at all. I just dropped my… knife."
"Oh well then. We can continue." the man said. "I am deeply sorry sire."
Arthur glared at Merlin again as he shuffled out from under the table cloth and took his place again, cat firmly in his grasp.
It was official after that particular incident. The cat had to go.
There was just the small problem of Merlin, who absolutely refused to let that happen. He doted on the animal night and day and Arthur noted, with some jealousy (that he would never admit to) that Merlin was treating the cat better than he treated him. This did not help the cat to gain Arthur's favour. Not at all.
The people in the kitchens had fallen in love with Gwen. The knights (with the exception of Leon) had fallen in love with Gwen. Even Gwen had fallen in love with Gwen. The only other who shared Arthur's views was George who hated the cat on sight simply because of the mess it made and it's lack of appreciation for brass. Personally, Arthur refused to let the cat near brass because he hated the hideous screech it made as it dragged its paws down the metal, but George's hatred of the dents and scratches in his carefully polished work was understandable too.
Brass aside, Arthur had to come up with a plan to get rid of Gwen. Cat Gwen. The human Gwen had been rather disturbed when she came across him writing on a piece of parchment that was titled: operation: get rid of Gwen. It had taken some rapid and awkward explaining to get her to realise he was talking about the cat, and even then she was still angry.
Arthur's plan was fool proof. He would sneak into Merlin's chambers while he was sleeping, grab the cat and get the hell out of there. The cat would be set loose in the forest where it could live among other evil monsters like it.
Perfect.
He didn't count on Merlin being a stupidly light sleeper. Or the cat's defence mechanisms which were a lot sharper than the swords Arthur used in training thank you very much.
At least, that's what he told himself when he had to go to Gaius for an ointment to soothe the stinging of the claw marks. The physian had chuckled slightly and Arthur pouted as only Arthur could.
Operation: get rid of Gwen didn't work. Well then, it was time for operation: get rid of Gwen 2.0. (For real this time.)
Plan 2.0 involved Arthur, some rope and the convenient trapdoor above Merlin's room. and of course the cat which was the downfall of the plan. It wasn't Arthur's fault that it didn't want to be pulled up and out of the trapdoor and that it scratched him when he tried to secure the rope.
Gaius rolled his eyes when Arthur came in for another dose of the ointment.
The third failure didn't even come as a surprise. Arthur should have known that the cat didn't like fish. Of course it didn't. The cat didn't like anything! Still, it was a waste of a perfectly good piece of trout and Arthur mourned over the loss of what could have been his lunch.
After the fourth attempt at getting rid of Gwen failed, Arthur gave up.
Not that he would tell anyone that of course. He was a knight of Camelot and they didn't give up. These were just… special circumstances.
As he sat writing his speeches, or rather, reading over the speeches that Merlin had written, Arthur decided that the cat was the bane of his existence, magic and evil sorcerers be damned. The cat was worse.
A knock on the door made Arthur look up sharply, slightly annoyed about being pulled from his musings. He was about to tell the person to come in, when they did anyway because it was Merlin and when did he ever wait for permission?
He was holding Gwen and looking sheepish which told Arthur that something had almost certainly happened.
"What has it done this time?" he asked exasperatedly. Merlin grimaced.
"The king found out." He revealed. "She was on his throne."
"You can't be serious?"
"Sorry."
"Merlin!"
"Sorry sire!"
"Another week in the stocks."