A Prince's best friend
Chapter 2: In which Uther might not like all that he sees
It was when he started noticing the black feline constantly at his son's heels that Uther began growing…suspicious.
It was no secret, at least not among the courtiers, that Arthur had taken no great liking to cats. Dogs were all right, and he where used to their presence especially during hunting; and horses was one of Arthur's loves, essential to him as warrior and prince. But since when had Arthur tolerated having a cat following him around everywhere all the time? Especially one so … clumsy.
Uther wasn't by any means blind, especially not when that thing kept bumbling into people in the hallways, tying knots of the servants' legs, making courtiers trip and once almost jumbling the king himself when he was making his way to the great hall. (Which had made Arthur glare at the creature fiercely, protectively yet scolding; Uther could almost imagine his son saying "Watch where you're going, you buffoon, or you'll get into trouble!")
Later that evening at dinner, after a half cup of cool wine and a wonderful steak, the king coughed pointedly as his son entered the hall, late. Morgana looked at the slightly disheveled young man with a delicately raised eyebrow (his hair needed to be combed…and what was that on his left sleeve? Scratch marks?). Arthur ignored the look she sent him and looked at the king, bowing his neck.
"Son, where have you been? I called for you over one candle-mark ago."
"I'm sorry father," Arthur said. "Training with the knights got postponed earlier because of an incident, and I had to finish it. Obviously I cannot let the knights grow slack despite the occasional…disruption." If it was a lie, it was told smoothly.
"Well then. Take seat, before the food gets cold." Uther raised his hand, signaling a servant to fetch something hot and fresh from the oven, and someone scurried to comply. He cut up more steak. It tasted lovely, indeed.
And then that blasted black fur-ball appeared, like out of nowhere, stroking its body against the prince's ankles as it walked past. When Arthur sat down at his usual seat at the far end of the long table, the cat settled by his feet. Automatically the blonde bent down offering the creature a piece of meat from his plate.
"Arthur." The tone was one of admonition.
For some reason Arthur feigned innocence. Morgana snickered a bit, but Uther didn't appear to notice. "Yes, father?"
"What is that...thing doing here?"
"Oh. That. It has been following me all day, refusing to leave like the most stubborn underling, you see, and I hadn't the heart to kick him out of my sight," The prince looked at the animal in an odd, almost honest-to-heart kind of way which made Uther both uneasy and amused; he'd rarely seen his son so emotionally attached to an animal (nor to a person), and it was obvious he liked to have the cat nearby. It was a very dedicated pet. The cat, sensing the king's stare, hid beneath the prince's chair, suddenly startled or timid.
"Well then. Have you made sure it's not carrying any diseases? We cannot have an animal running around spreading illness in the court."
"Of course I let Gaius examine him," Arthur said, slightly offended at the suggestion of his stubborn companion having a disease. "He's clean." He nudged with his foot under the chair forcing the cat to move. It made a displeased sound and jumped into the prince's lap instead. Its gaze found the food and it stared at Arthur's plate intensively.
"Well, as long as it's not causing any trouble," Uther said with a nod. "Does it have a name?"
"Name?" Arthur blinked, and looked down at the decidedly hungry animal which was now looking back at him with wide, blue 'I'm-cute-and-pitiful-please-give-me-what-I-want' eyes. He lowered his voice a pitch, leaning forward a little as if chastising the cat: "Get off me and I'll fix you something to eat. It's not dignified for a prince to have a cat cuddling his lap. Get off, I said. I'll even get you some cream if you behave. All right?"
The cat stood on its hind paws and brushed the prince's chin with the top of its head in affirmation before obediently jumping off (the creature was rather small, Uther now realized, a scrawny little thing, it probably hadn't been fed properly before in its entire life.)
"So. A name," Arthur began talking again (before he managed to react at the cat's odd sweet gesture, which did not make him want to cuddle it) toward his father and Morgana, who was listening and not even hiding her bemusement. A servant hurried to fetch a bowl and filled it with meat, and another with milk, and placed it on the floor near the prince's chair. The cat began eating like a starved.
"I don't know, I haven't thought of it yet." Honestly, he'd always called Merlin Merlin (and sometimes also idiot. Well, more times than some times, really) whether he had a tail or not. "I was thinking of Klutz. What about you, any ideas, Morgana?"
"Oh, I wouldn't know," the woman smiled secretly. "Perhaps something like Marvin-" Arthur jumped in shock there, nearly dropping his cup of wine onto his newly washed shirt, "-would suit him. He is very endearing, isn't he?" And then she cooed, "Aren't you a sweet little thing? I'm not surprised that you've caught Arthur's eye, I know his tastes." at the cat which suddenly looked very shy and would have blushed were it able to (instead it just squirmed and attempted to crawl under Arthur's tunic, for cover).
She knew! Arthur glowered at her and her smug smile. When did she find out? Did she even know or just pretend? If anyone would notice Merlin's absence, it'd be Morgana – but it had only been a day!
Though that red neckerchief might be a big giveaway. The stupid cat refused to let him take it off, so it stayed in place around the animal's neck. What was it with Merlin and neckerchiefs?
"What a surprise, Morgana," he said with faked enthusiasm and a heavy spoonful of sarcasm, "I had no idea you where interested in naming things. Have you been spending time with Geoffrey in the libraries again?"
"Arthur, do behave," the king rebuked. Nobody heard the cat's silent snickering.
()()()
"I swear, I've never had this trouble with any servant ever," Arthur ranted (again) as he settled the cat on the bed. He'd carried the creature all the way from the dining hall to his chambers – not that it was a gesture of kindness or anything like that. It was just the cat had been very tired and refusing to get out of his lap, therefore forcing him to carry it.
The cat didn't respond, merely cuddled into the fluffy pillows. So soft and thick now when he was so small, they were! There must be some way to make Arthur let him sleep here now when he was a cat. After all it was only fair. He was the unlucky victim and deserved to be spoiled, unlike that prat, who got spoiled and bestowed with riches and luxury all the time without actually deserving it. It wasn't as if he had actually been the one to kill the Griffin or the Questing Beast or faced down Nimueh at the Isle of the Blessed and saved his own life or revealed Valiant's plot or any of those things. He so owed Merlin a proper lie-in in a royal bed. (And a pay rise. Definitely. Preferably a promotion with that too. With pillows.)
"Oi! Get out of my bed! You're getting hair all over it," the prince exclaimed and waved his hands to shoo him away.
The cat stubbornly refused to move.
"Oh come on, Merlin. I'm the prince and you got no right to be in there."
Merlin stood on all fours, for a moment it looked as if he would obey and get off, but he simply shifted position and settled higher up on the bed, tugging at the covers with his jaw now he had no hands (his paws didn't work, he tried but got no proper grasp) – Arthur stared in disbelief, jaw dropping, as the servant come cat simply and unfazed made himself comfortable.
"…You-! You think you can actually do that!" It was…outrageous!
He leaned down, not un-gently grasping the creature's sides to pick him up but Merlin protested suddenly wildly at that, squirming and yowling and clawing the air.
"All right, all right!" Arthur conceded. After all it was just an innocent cat. Even if it was his manservant. Oh this was getting confusing. "You can stay there and be all comfortable. Still, when you're back to normal I am so putting you into the stocks. I'll personally join the tomato throwers."
The cat looked at him a bit confused and, Arthur might even say, hurt, eyes shining slightly (though that might just be the candlelight) and puffed the prince's hand with its nose, like saying uncertainly 'You wouldn't really do that Arthur – would you?'
With a sigh, the prince changed to a nightshirt and, reluctantly, slipped into bed. The cat moved to the side a bit to avoid being crushed but once he lay there, Arthur found he actually didn't mind Merlin's presence so much.
"Just remember, this is a one night deal," he reminded the exasperating creature, "tomorrow you're not going to sleep in here. Or any other night in the future for that matter. I'm fixing you a basket."
The cat said nothing, only snuggled contently into the prince's side.