TITLE: DAUGHTER OF EREBUS
AUTHOR: Tipper
DISCLAIMER: Own nothing but my own words.
GENRE: Gen A/A H/C
STATUS: Complete in nine chapters (plus one very small epilogue). I'll post a chapter a day, or every other day, as a I revise. I don't do WIPs, so rest assured, this whole thing will be posted within a couple of weeks.
SPOILERS: Set soon after the end of S4, so spoilers for S1-S4.
A/N: First time writing a Merlin fic. I've not read a lot of fic in this fandom (or watched the eps more than once, though I have seen them all), so apologies for any mistakes, or repeated themes. Thank you for letting me play in your sandbox!
DESCRIPTION: As Arthur struggles to prove his authority with the High Council of Lords after Agravaine's betrayal and Gwen tries to get used to being Queen, a band of professional thieves plot to steal the gold from Camelot's vaults, and Merlin, naturally, gets stuck right smack in the middle.
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CHAPTER ONE: KING OF THE STOCKS
Where was he? Why was tracking down his own personal manservant - a man who, by all rights, should be constantly at his beck and call – so damned hard?
Arthur stormed through the castle with a shirt in his hand, his glower causing the women to run with tiny squeals down side corridors, and the men to suddenly find the stonework totally fascinating. Upon turning a corner and spotting Gwaine talking to one of Lord Perrin's knights, he raised his eyebrows in question. Gwaine smirked slightly, and jerked a thumb in the direction of the council chambers.
"Saw him talking to one of Lord Perrin's servants inside the council hall."
Arthur inclined his head, but didn't break stride. If anything, it grew more purposeful now that he had a direction. As he left them behind, he heard Perrin's knight ask Gwaine how he knew who the King was looking for.
"When his face looks like that," Gwaine replied, "he's only ever looking for one person."
Arthur cracked a tiny, dark smile, and rounded the next corner.
More fleeing servants and knights marveling the architecture.
When he reached the council chambers, he was blessedly alone, having left the bulk of the castle staff scurrying from his wrath in the opposite direction. Stopping just before the open doors, he blew out a heavy breath and tightened the grip he had on his favorite shirt. Or at least, what had been his favorite shirt. The pale, yellow linen shirt had been a gift from one of his favorite paternal aunts, the Duchess Cecilia. His aunt had embroidered it herself, and it was easily the softest shirt he owned. It was now a somewhat dull gray color and had been coarsened to the point of feeling like one of (shudder) Merlin's shirts.
He was going to kill that miserable excuse for a manservant. But…he would do it with dignity. With grace. With, well, majesty. So, he breathed out slowly and loosened his shoulders, seeking a moment's calm before….
"I really don't know what you think I can do," Merlin's voice said clearly from inside the room, his voice tight with tension. It was that tension that caught Arthur's attention, and, immediately, the shirt was forgotten. He took a step forward, so he could hear more clearly.
"It's quite simple, Merlin. I can call you Merlin, yes? I just need you to talk to the King for me, help him see sense." That was Lord Perrin's voice.
"I think you have the wrong man," Merlin said, still sounding tense. "I'm just his servant."
"Oh, I think you're a little more than that," Lord Perrin pressed. "Word is, if you want the King's ear, they need to get your ear first. He values your counsel, nearly above all others. Lord Humphries told me as much yesterday. Indeed, Humphries seemed to think you'd already done him a good turn a few months ago, and expected it to happen again."
"I don't know what you've heard, but I can assure you—"
"Oh, don't be so modest, young man." Lady Perrin now—she was in there, too? "You forget, we took refuge in here like everyone else when the Dorocha attacked last year. We saw how you worked together, always side by side. Everyone did. And with recent events…."
"What happened with Lord Agravaine," Lord Perrin stated solemnly.
"…You are clearly one of his inner circle. You've even spoken up a few times in the High Council, have you not?" Lady Perrin said, her tone somewhere between sycophantic and patronizing.
"Always wisely," Lord Perrin simpered. Arthur felt his lip curling in disgust.
"Ummm…." Merlin had the sound of someone who had been cornered.
"Look," Lord Perrin said, "We would not ask for your help if our situation were not dire. You heard today that the King is undecided about whether to lighten the tithes we owe this year, despite the terrible winter we had, and we simply would like him to consider our poor, hardworking people. They are struggling; we all are. Why, we ourselves have had to cut down to only three meals a day."
Arthur almost snorted, thinking of the rather substantial girths both Lord and Lady Perrin carried.
"In the council," Merlin said slowly, "Arthur questioned whether you had appropriately prepared for the winter—none of the other lords are struggling as much. He also said you cleared out perfectly good farming land to build a folly and some sort of sporting park…?"
"Perhaps some poor decisions were made, but is that enough to punish our starving people?" Lord Perrin asked. "They need our king's compassion, not his censure or disdain. Please, Merlin, surely you must understand, being peasant born yourself."
"You are kind, Merlin," Lady Perrin purred. "I can see that in your eyes. If you could just talk to him, we—"
Arthur had heard enough. Backing up a few steps to the entranceway to the hall, so that he couldn't be accused of eavesdropping, he raised his voice and shouted, "Merlin!"
He imagined the startled looks of the three people in the council chambers as he strode again towards the room, and smirked. "Merlin! Where the devil are you?"
"Here, sire!" Merlin called, running into hallway to meet him, slipping slightly on the flagstones in his haste. He grinned, his expression one of clear relief until he saw the shirt in Arthur's hands. Then it most certainly was not.
"Oh," he said, swallowing thickly. "What…um…what happened to your shirt?" Worst. Liar. Ever.
"Don't," he snarled, throwing it at Merlin, who barely caught it. "Can you explain this?"
Merlin blushed deeply, looking down at the shirt, and then briefly into the council chambers, before looking back at Arthur. He bowed his head. "No, Sire. I cannot."
"Then maybe a day in the stocks will refresh your memory."
Merlin's head came up instantly, his expression clearly surprised. "What?"
"You heard me. You know what that shirt meant to me. You need to be punished."
"I…" Merlin's eyes were round as saucers now, and he looked down at the shirt again. "Wait, but—"
"No buts. Report to the guardroom immediately, and inform Sir Reginald of my decision. Dismissed."
Merlin stared at him a moment longer, as if looking for the joke, before finally pressing his lips together tightly and nodding. He bowed slightly, if a little sharply.
Arthur felt a tiny twinge of regret as Merlin turned dejectedly and walked away. With some effort, he fought the urge to call him back and rescind the order, but then he heard the whispering coming from the council room and recalled his reasoning for being so harsh. Walking the rest of the way into the council room, he found himself looking down his nose at Lord and Lady Perrin, who were standing near the room's center, both looking a tad unsteady. Lord Perrin bowed and Lady Perrin curtsied, but looked extremely unhappy doing it. He placed a hand on his sword, a move he had seen his father do a thousand times, and the effect was instantaneous—both nobles stepped back, cowed.
"Something I can do for you, my lord and lady?" he asked.
Lord Perrin smiled weakly. "No, Sire. Not at the moment."
"Well then," Arthur said. "I should let you know that I have made a decision about your request to lower the tithes this year."
They both instantly straightened, Lady Perrin's head lifting to reveal the fat pearls about her pale neck.
"I am going to deny the request," Arthur intoned. "May I suggest that you find a way to live more within your means this year. In addition, if I hear that there are any abuses of your serfs as a result of your poor handling of your lands, I may have to consider adjusting those property boundaries," he paused, "and making them smaller."
The wide-eyed stares he received were expected, but Lady Perrin fainting to the ground a second later was not. It was a bit like watching a Beltane pageant wagon collapse in slow motion. Almost amusingly, Lord Perrin just watched it happen, gaping like a trout on the end of a fishing hook at his wife as she went down in a sea of pale blue fabrics.
Arthur sighed, and shouted for the servants to bring water for the Lady and to fetch Gaius.
As people bustled into the room to help, he backed up, feeling slightly guilty for his abrupt actions, but also knowing it had to be done. Not just to teach the lords a lesson, but to send a strong message to everyone in Camelot that Merlin was his servant, and only his servant.
This was not the first time he'd found people trying to go through Merlin to get to him, or seemed to be under the mistaken impression that Merlin had some sort of sway over his decisions. The first time he'd noticed it was when Princess Mithian was here last year, when she'd asked if Merlin had had a role in his choice not to go through with the wedding. "I know that you consider his opinion very highly," she had said, right after he'd told her his decision, "and I know he doesn't like me. Is that the reason? Has he turned you against me?"
He'd not thought too much about it at the time, though he'd been a little embarrassed that she thought Merlin had that much influence over his thoughts, and impact on his decisions, but then it had happened again. About a year ago, during the High Council's first meeting following his father's death, he'd overheard Lord Humphries asking Merlin for advice as to how to approach Arthur about increasing the military allotment for his lands—emphasizing the greater uncertainties now that Cenred was no longer king of the neighboring lands. Merlin didn't say a thing about it later, but Arthur had been annoyed at the presumption. Still, he'd agreed to the increased allotment because it was logical, and he'd tried to ignore the smile Humphries gave Merlin.
And then again, with Lord Bailor a few months ago, who had requested Merlin attend him during his last visit, only to find out later that Bailor had wanted Merlin to deliver messages to Arthur after hours, knowing he wouldn't deny Merlin into his chambers. Merlin had found it amusing, but it only incensed Arthur.
Then yesterday, Arthur happened to catch sight of Humphries snatching Merlin outside the High Council and pulling him to one side. Arthur had quietly followed and listened around the corner as Humphries tried to convince Merlin to help him again—he wanted an even greater military allotment, now that Lot was king. Arthur was intending to deny the request this time—Humphries needed to raise his own funds, not rely solely on Camelot's wealth—but clearly, the man thought he had some sort of ally in Merlin. His servant, to his credit, had denied providing any service to Humphries before, but the lord was insistent. "Use your influence," he'd begged. "I know you can get him to see reason and help me."
Well, that was the last time. Arthur wasn't going to wait until the final day of meetings tomorrow. He'd tell Humphries tonight that his request was going to be denied, just as he had told the Perrins. As for Merlin….
A day in the stocks would not only teach Merlin a lesson about taking care of his shirts, but would show the world that his servant was just a servant, nothing more.
Even so, Arthur had already decided that more drastic action was going to need to be taken. It wouldn't do for people, especially not the nobility, to think that Merlin had any influence on Arthur. Yes, he'd asked his friend for advice in the past, but if other people knew that, it could be dangerous. It suggested weakness; that a servant could have any sort of sway over a king's decision was not only inappropriate, it was ignominious. His father would turn in his grave.
It was time Arthur stood on his own two feet—no more councilors or advisors, no more uncles or servants to confuse his thoughts. After today, he was going to make it clear that the only person Arthur was going to listen to from now on was Arthur.
(And maybe Guinevere. But only because she'd kill him if he didn't.)
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"Unbelievable!" Merlin snarled, shoving open the door to the court physician's quarters with a bang. "Not only does he keep me in the stocks all day but I didn't even deserve—"
He stopped when he saw Arthur standing in the middle of the room, talking quietly to Gaius. Merlin quickly shut up, actually biting his bottom lip in the process, and tried to ignore the flush that had filled his face.
"Um," he said, trying for an innocent looking smile. "My apologies, Sire, I—"
"No matter," Arthur said, waving the complaint away, which was actually pretty nice of him.
Unfortunately, Arthur being nice also meant something was very wrong.
Merlin's thoughts instantly turned dour, and he steeled himself for whatever bad news was about to be delivered. He glanced at Gaius, trying to read something in his mentor's face, but Gaius just gave him an inscrutable look and turned his attention to the king.
"I'll just be going, then," he said, sounding disturbingly calm. "So that the two of you can discuss this matter in private."
"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur said, his tone beyond formal.
Merlin frowned slightly, stepping to one side as Gaius picked up his bag and shuffled past, not giving Merlin a second glance. Merlin's heart sank—it had to be bad if Gaius wasn't even trying to give him some kind of encouragement or warning.
As soon as the door was closed, Merlin stepped closer to Arthur. "What's the matter?" he asked, not hiding the concern in his voice. "Is someone hurt? Is it Gwen? Or Gwaine?"
Arthur's brow furrowed briefly, but his expression remained irritatingly neutral as he shook his head.
"No," he said. He gestured at the bench next to a table. "Please, have a seat."
Merlin glanced at the bench like it had turned into a pit of snakes, and returned his attention to Arthur. "Ealdor?" he asked softly, gripping his hands tightly by his sides. "Has something happened? Have you heard something? My mother?"
Arthur sighed heavily. "No, it's nothing like that. Please, just sit. There's something you and I need to discuss. About something you've been keeping from me."
Merlin's eyebrows lifted, and ice cold fear pooled in his stomach. No. It couldn't be. He couldn't be talking about….No, no. There's no way. He hadn't done any magic recently, had he? Nothing overt, anyway. Please, please, please….
A little numbly, he walked over to the bench and sat down. As he passed by the table with the glass vials and flasks, he caught sight of his reflection. There was a bit of tomato (and possibly lettuce) in his hair from the stocks. Great. He was about to be accused of sorcery and he had a salad on his head.
"Um," he touched the side of his face under the tomato, it's juice mixing with his sweat, "may I clean up first?"
"This won't take long," Arthur replied, still monotone.
Merlin swallowed thickly, but nodded. It seemed that was the cue for Arthur to start.
"I overheard you in the council chambers today," Arthur said, "with Lord and Lady Perrin."
Merlin's mantle of doom abated slightly, and he looked up. "Huh?"
"I overheard them trying to convince you to talk to me about reducing their tithes."
Merlin's eyebrows lifted. He almost smiled, his relief was that strong, but he managed to keep a straight face. "Oh?"
"How often does that happen?"
"What, being hit on by nobles? All the time. I think it's the jaunty way I carry off this scarf." He grinned.
Arthur didn't. Merlin's smile fell.
"Answer the question," the king said, in a voice that said and remember who you are talking to.
Merlin sighed, still a bit giddy from not about to be sentenced to death, and tried to recall. How often did people come to him, hoping he would help them get to Arthur? Pretty often, actually. Mostly, it was minor stuff—other servants, some of the guards and knights, the occasional townsperson—but he suspected Arthur was talking specifically about the nobility. Then, it had been a couple of times during each meeting of the High Council, which occurred every three months or so. The largest landowning lords visited, some from quite far away, to discuss the state of the kingdom with Arthur and his council.
"I'm not sure," he said, scratching at his chin, "a few times, I suppose."
Arthur pursed his lips, obviously pondering that response. "Define, 'a few'."
"A couple of times each time the High Council meets? And, sometimes when we have visitors, they might ask me to help them talk to you. Like Lord Bailor, if you remember that."
Arthur's eyebrows lifted high, and Merlin wasn't sure what to make of the expression. Was that surprise? Or something else? He tried to think what might be wrong with what he'd just said.
"Of course, I never do as they ask," Merlin said carefully, trying to suss out what was going on in Arthur's head. "And I always inform them that you don't talk to me about matters of state." It was a lie, of course; Arthur talked to him all the time. But the nobles didn't have to know that. Merlin wasn't about to become some sort of intermediary between Camelot's nobility and the king. He had enough to worry about. "I always tell them that I'm just your servant, and I don't want to get involved."
Arthur, however, wasn't looking happy, as if he didn't believe what Merlin had just said. His gaze had narrowed, and Merlin found himself getting worried again.
"If you keep telling them that you're just a servant," Arthur asked, "then why do they keep coming back to you?"
Merlin opened his mouth to answer, but realized he didn't really have one. "Um…I don't know?"
"I do," Arthur said. "I've been too lenient with your behavior in public. How we talk in private is one thing, but in public, you need to be seen, not heard."
Merlin frowned slightly, a little annoyed at the implied rebuke. "I know that."
"And yet, yesterday, you said something during the High Council session."
Merlin's eyes widened. "Yes, but…I was asked a question."
"Yes, but before you answered, you should have looked to me for permission. More to the point, I don't like that you were asked a question at all."
Merlin frowned. "Why?"
"Because you're supposed to be invisible. Unimportant."
"But I was asked whether I thought there was unrest in the outlying villages in Lot's Kingdom, like Ealdor."
"The fact that Lord Humphries even knew you were from Ealdor disturbs me. Why would he know that?"
"Well…" Merlin shrugged. "I suppose because I told him? He'd asked when we first met, which—"
"There! See? That's a problem. You can't talk to the lords of this kingdom so freely, and never when I'm not present."
Merlin found himself frowning even more. "I don't understand. Am I supposed to ignore them if they talk to me?"
"No, but you can tell them to direct any questions to me. Let me make it simple. I am your master, and they need to know that. How can I show I have control over this kingdom if it appears I don't even have control over my manservant?"
"But…"
"No. No buts, Merlin. It became very clear to me today that the nobility think you have some influence over me, and I can't have that. So, I've decided to make some changes. From now on, you will only attend me in my chambers, out on the practice field, or outside the castle. You will not attend me during council meetings, during receptions or feasts, or when greeting visiting nobles. I want you out of the public eye."
Merlin squinted slightly, but said nothing to these new rules. Instead, he asked, "And who will attend you at those times?"
"George."
Ouch. "I see."
"You have to understand, Merlin," Arthur's veneer cracked slightly, "I have to do this. You're becoming too familiar, and, consequently, are becoming a potential risk to me."
Merlin huffed. "A risk."
Arthur frowned. "Dangerous, if you prefer."
"Oh, I'm dangerous now."
"No, of course not!" Arthur snapped. "You yourself are not dangerous. It's how people view you that is dangerous!" He shook his head, stepping back and rubbing his forehead. "The fact is, you make me look weak. And right now, I can't afford even the perception of weakness. You must understand that, after all we've been through—I'm barely here as it is. My choices of late, because of the people I surrounded myself with, are in question. I need to demonstrate strength and independence and…." He hesitated, and added, " discrimination."
Merlin gritted his teeth. He heard that last part loud and clear. At the end of the day, he wasn't good enough to be seen as the King's friend….
"Because I'm just your servant," he said, finishing his thought out loud.
Arthur grimaced slightly as if in pain, but nodded. "Yes. The lords think I'm vulnerable, that they can get to me through you. They wouldn't have dared to think such a thing of someone like Agravaine or anyone on the council, but you? You they see as a potential tool, the weak spot in my armor. And I can't have that. I have to stand alone, to be seen standing alone." He frowned, his royal mask cracking a little. "Tell me you understand."
But Merlin didn't understand. How did he make Arthur weak? Arthur's strength lay in his friends and his people, not in his airs and veneers. And it lay deepest with those who had stood by him in the darkest hours. But…he couldn't argue. Friend or not, Arthur was still king.
He bowed his head, turning his eyes to the floor. "As you wish, Sire."
He could imagine Arthur's face pinching at that, obviously knowing that wasn't an agreement. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Arthur straighten his shoulders and nod.
"Good." Arthur looked everywhere but at Merlin. "Then it's settled."
"What would you like me to do when I'm not attending you?" Merlin asked, still generally focused on the flagstones.
"You will do as Gwen did, after Morgana went…." He trailed off, then simply finished the sentence with, "After Morgana. She worked where she was most needed. Start with Gaius. If he has no chores for you, you will report to the Steward."
Merlin tried not to wince, fearful he'd end up working in the kitchens or the laundry, or, worse yet, mucking out the stables or the dungeons. But Arthur's mind was clearly made up, so Merlin just nodded, and repeated the same phrase from earlier:
"As you wish, Sire."
"Good, good."
For a moment after that, neither man said anything. And then Arthur looked at the door.
"So, you'll probably want to clean up."
"Probably," Merlin replied coolly. "The vegetables were particularly rotten today."
Arthur gave a nod, obviously not listening. "I'll just go then."
"Sounds good."
Arthur breathed in deeply. "Right. I'll, uh…I'll see you later."
"Thank you, Sire."
Arthur's jaw tensed at the formality, but he didn't argue. With a tense nod, he walked to the door. Merlin simply looked down at his hands, amazed that he hadn't punctured his palms with his nails, he was gripping them so tightly.
"Merlin?"
Sighing, Merlin looked up. "Yes, Sire?"
Arthur was still standing in the doorway, one leg in the room, one out in the corridor, his expression worried. "You do understand, don't you?"
Merlin watched him for a moment, and then nodded. "Of course. I understand all too well." That you're a complete prat.
Arthur studied him a minute, then gave a nod and left, leaving the door ajar. Merlin sighed and slumped against the table.
Damn it.
After a few seconds, someone cleared their throat. When he looked up to see Gaius framed in the doorway, Merlin turned away. He didn't want his mentor to see how hurt he was.
"Are you alright?" Gaius asked.
"Oh, fine," Merlin snarled. "Arthur just banned me from attending him half the time he's in Camelot. Anything 'public' and I'm supposed to be helping in the kitchens."
Gaius stepped around him so that he could see Merlin's face. "I know. He told me what he was going to do before you came in, and I know you must be hurt, but-."
"Hurt? I'm not hurt!" Merlin snapped, masking his embarrassment with as much force as he could muster. What did Gaius think he was, a girl? "I'm angry! And more than that, I'm worried! How am I supposed to protect him, if I'm not there? If someone attacks him or threatens to attack…"
Gaius gave him that annoying look that said he could see right through him. "He has guards, Merlin."
"Oh yes, because they've been so useful in the past. The number of times I've had to—"
"I know," Gaius said, hands raised in a soothing gesture. "I know. But Arthur's feeling very vulnerable right now. You have to understand that, after what happened with Lord Agravaine, he has to wonder if he can even trust his own judgment. He wants to stand on his own, to feel like he's not dependent on anyone, and he wants the people of this kingdom to know it as well."
"But what has that to do with me?" And that didn't come out as whiny as it sounded, did it?
"People go to you, Merlin, because they think you have the king's ear. He's afraid of how that looks. He wants people to approach him directly."
"I don't ask them to come to me."
"I know that, but they come anyway. You know that as well as I. Gwen is going to start being approached as well, but he can't require the Queen to not attend him at functions. Plus, it's expected that the Queen would have some influence. But a servant….?"
Merlin crossed his arms, turning his head away. "I still think it's foolish. No man stands on his own. Why doesn't he know that? His father had advisors. All the lords have seconds….."
"But you're not his advisor, Merlin. You're not his second."
"But I'm also not just his servant, Gaius! You know that as well as I do. I'm also his friend. And right now, he needs his friends. Why can't he trust me to do what's right by him?"
Gaius gave a small smile at that, and sat down on the bench next to him. "Like he trusted Agravaine? And Morgana?"
Merlin grimaced. "That's not the same."
"I know that, and you know that, but…." Gaius sighed. "But if I were Arthur, I'd be questioning everyone I've allowed close. And right now, besides Gwen, you are the closest person to him. And the fact that his betrayals by Morgana and Agravaine were so public, is it any wonder that he's concerned about how people are perceiving him? About who he has chosen to be close to?"
"I suppose, but—"
"You need to let him do this, Merlin. If cutting you out of a few dinners is what he needs to feel like he's in control then-"
"Then what?" Merlin shook his head, feeling his shoulder sink as he considered more than just his own feelings. "Thing is, this is about more than a few dinners. And it's about more than just me. You didn't hear him earlier. He thinks he has to 'stand alone,' that he can only do things on his own, but he's wrong. He needs people he can rely on, just as we rely on him. If he isolates himself from the people who care, the people who love him…."
Gaius put his arm over Merlin's shoulder. "I know. And he will too, someday. But he has to come to that realization himself first. It'll happen. Trust me."
Merlin frowned. "So long as it's not too late."
Gaius said nothing to that, just gave Merlin's shoulder a squeeze. After a moment, he dropped his arm and smiled brightly.
"So. I understand the other part of this new change in duties is that I get to use your services more. Is that right?"
Merlin bowed his head in resignation.
"Then that's very good news," Gaius continued, "because my herb stocks are at an all time low. I could really use a hand gathering up some items from the forest, and now that you have some free time…."
Merlin's heaved groan could probably be heard all the way to the Great Hall.
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TBC…