Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine… probably couldn't even spell their names… definitely can't imitate their awesome accents. Tried about seven times and failed. Everyone that I made up is fake. That's usually the definition of made up. Don't know anything about the history of the time and little about the legend, so if you're one of those people who likes realistic stuff in realistic times, this is probably not for you, and I won't be offended. But if you're one of those people who are like, "Dude—this is Brittish Scifi—anything can happen—there can be air conditioning in Merlin's room and no indoor plumbing at the same time and it's all good," then yay, you and I would probably be friends. Even though they actually had indoor plumbing in like, 1500 BC, so that would technically be the more likely of the two to have. See—I find holes in my own logic all the time. How did indoor plumbing become a lost technology? Seriously, who thought, "No—let's just get rid of it. I mean, no one really uses indoor plumbing. I would much rather spend my winter months trecking all the way to the water, knifing my way through the frozen ice, possibly falling in and drowning! Think of all the excitement we could have if it weren't for indoor plumbing…" I'll stop talking now. Because that's what I do… rant… and about nothing important…
It was that time again. The time that Merlin's gotten really good at. He had to concentrate—this took him YEARS to perfect. While it could be considered a skill, Merlin preferred to think of it as a trick. Tricks sounded more fun. And it made him believe he was using his… special gifts… in broad daylight. Sure, it was in a dark hallway by himself with Arthur's door closed, and technically he wasn't using any of his magic, but this was a special gift, too! One that took a long, LONG time to master.
Steady the third plate… Arthur will never forgive you if he loses his meat… Merlin thought to himself. Arthur loved his protein, and this was a predicament Merlin faced every day—two hands, three large plates. Some days near harvest there were four or five plates. Those were the times when his skills were really pushed to the limit. But today, being only three…
The bread and cheese plate he could drop. He had become very expert at wiping dirt off of that food. What Arthur didn't know wouldn't hurt him. But when it came to meat, Arthur had almost a super sensitivity—he knew exactly how it should taste, and he knew EXACTLY where it had been. The kitchen was too far away. Whoever designed this castle was stupid. If Merlin had designed it, he wouldn't have made it so everyone had such a far way to walk if they had dropped things like plates meant to feed royalty.
Just a little bit more… the latch clicked and the door opened. Another successful day. Not only did he not trip the entire way down the wing and up the stairs, but he had managed to balance what Merlin was sure were three of the largest and heaviest pieces of china ever invented. Probably invented by royalty as just another method of torturing the people who serve them, Merlin thought. Arthur would invent something like that, just for Merlin.
The door swung open and Merlin almost lost his balance in surprise. He looked up at Arthur. "You're up early."
Arthur was already doing his morning stretches. "Couldn't sleep," Arthur replied with a smile.
"And you're dressed? Well, you don't need me anymore—you've finally learned to wake up all on your own!" Merlin patronized, with mocked pride.
Arthur stopped his stretches and smirked, moving closer to the table for his food. "And you've finally learned what I have been saying all along—you're completely useless." Arthur sat down and took a bite out of his bacon.
"You're really excited, aren't you?" Merlin asked, ignoring Arthur's taunts, and already knowing the answer to his question.
"It's been five years, Merlin. I can't believe it. How time flies."
Merlin started his task of tidying up the room. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to catch up."
"You are going to like him. Everyone does. He is so…"
"Charming, bold, and noble. Like a prince. I know. We've had this conversation every day for the past week," Merlin interrupted, content to just carry out his duties and pretend to ignore Arthur. "I've met a lot of nobles, and very few impress me," he added, more for the sake of trying to get a rile out of Arthur than anything else.
Merlin was making the bed, so Arthur stood up and leaned against the pillars of it to talk to him. "But this time's different. Ainsley and I—since we were eight, there's been this bond between us." Merlin stopped and looked up at Arthur once he heard the excitement in Arthur's voice. It wasn't the kind of excitement that accompanies adrenaline or that Arthur got when they had just caught something rare on a big hunt. It was a quiet excitement—the kind that Merlin rarely saw in Arthur—the kind that meant Arthur was actually looking forward to this—that he was happy. This meant a lot to him. Merlin couldn't remember the last time he saw that in Arthur. After everything that's happened to them in the last year, Arthur needed this kind of excitement and something to look forward to in his life. And it was rare that Arthur opened up to Merlin about his past. "From the moment we first spoke to each other, something inside of us just clicked. Our lives were so similar, being a crown prince. Over the years as we came to realize what our titles meant, he was the only one I could talk to—who understood what I was going through. He faces the same challenges that I face. He has the same concerns and fears. Each time we see each other, it's like no time has passed at all. He's exactly like me…" Arthur let his voice trail off, lost in thought, his eyes brightening.
Merlin couldn't stay quiet for long. "Exactly like you? Great…"
Arthur smirked again. "I know it's hard for you to imagine, Merlin. You're not in the least bit unique or interesting. It's easy to relate to you."
"Well you've never seemed to manage it," Merlin shot back under his breath.
Arthur suddenly became serious again, as if remembering something. "Ainsley's mother always took pity on me, since I had no mother of my own. I felt like I could go to her for anything. I always looked forward to the days she would be here. This castle would feel like a home." Merlin didn't reply. He knew what it felt like. There were times in Ealdor Merlin would just watch as the men interacted with their sons, wondering what it would be like if one of them pretended to be his father. No one ever did. Not once. "When she died, I felt like a part of me had died with her. Although she would only be Camelot's guest for a few weeks every year, those few weeks were among the happiest of my life." Arthur moved closer to the window. "I haven't seen Ainsley since it happened. His father, like mine, became distant, and Ainsley's had more responsibilities to fulfill. It's left him little time for visits like these."
"Sounds like you two were very close," Merlin interjected.
Arthur paused and looked out the window. "He's my best friend."
Merlin wasn't sure how he felt about that comment. He was a little let down, considering all they had been through in the last four years. But at the same time, he understood. Arthur and Ainsley were on the same level. They had the same status. They were both not allowed to have friends. If there was someone—anyone – who understood everything Merlin was going through, he would probably have a deep connection with that person, too. Seeing Arthur this excited and not stressed… maybe it wouldn't be a terrible thing to have a noble visit after all. Maybe he was a little curious about this Ainsley. This was Arthur's his first relationship with no responsibility attached whatsoever. Arthur didn't have to think about himself as a prince. To him, they were simply normal friends.
"He's here!" Arthur exclaimed, trying not to sound as excited as he really was. And with that, Merlin followed him down the stairs and incredibly long hallway.
