Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe, it's all BBC property.
Author's Note: As promised, my tag to Episode 2x06, Part 2, Beauty and the Beast can be found below. A word of warning: there are scenes I may alter somewhat as this series progresses—although we know Arthur claims Merlin is the worst manservant he has ever had, I like to think that as Merlin grows to care for him, eventually progressing to the bond we see in Season 4 (yes, that's my favorite season!) and in Episode 5x13, his performance as a manservant improves, too (still keeping to that trademark Merlin flare, though). Additionally, for all I love Season 4, I really think the producers could have done so much more with Episode 4x13 and all that follows after, so that, too, will be reflected in this series. Please enjoy!
Reviewers: All 22 of you, thank you!
Rating: T
Summary:You can determine the measure of a man by observing how he treats his lessers, except that, to Arthur, Merlin has (almost) never been his lesser, and Merlin himself (almost) never saw them as anything other than equals. As their destinies steadily intertwine, both young men realize it is more than just fate that ties them together…(Friendshipfic and Bromance. Multi-Chapter.)
"Speech"
Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)
.:A Man's Measure:.
By Sentimental Star
III: Evolution
Arthur's tendency to defy his father (at least if it concerned Merlin or his people) had developed deep roots by the time Lady Catrina arrived in Camelot.
(And really, the first seeds had been sown all those months ago when Merlin drank from the poisoned chalice and Uther denied his son the ability to pursue the cure. More than once since then, Arthur had silently thanked Morgana for giving him the push that he had needed.)
He had come to see—painfully—that his father was not, in fact, always right. That when it came to defending the kingdom and his throne, innocents would as often become fodder as those Uther deemed guilty, or those responsible for the crisis in the first place.
Arthur often wished Merlin did not tend to be the innocent in the equation.
"You need to get out of here! The king has ordered me to arrest you."
"What?"
Merlin could not have looked more incredulous had he tried. Arthur both loathed and appreciated how expressive his manservant tended to be—on one hand, he could never hide anything (at least, Arthur liked to think so), but on the other, when something like this happened, it felt far too much like kicking a puppy.
"Catrina has accused you of taking her seal."
The look of abject shock on Merlin's face at that pronouncement vindicated Arthur's belief that Merlin could not possibly have had anything to do with said seal's disappearance, even if he did only catch it in passing.
(Frankly, he thought Merlin too idiotically genuine to lie outright about anything, let alone this.)
"But I didn't!"
Arthur shoved open the servant's door, in his haste not even truly registering Merlin's protest. "I do not want to know," the hallway remained clear (despite the fact that he knew the guards would do their rounds soon); he spun around and yanked the sheet from a completely startled Merlin's hands, "and right now you do not have time to tell me," he shoved Merlin forward, towards the door. "If you value your life, you will leave Camelot right now."
Merlin fought every step of the way, "But…she…Arthur," his manservant spun around to face him, full of defiance, "She. Is. A. Troll! She's trying to set me up!"
Arthur blew out a frustrated breath, "We've been through this-!" Seriously, did Merlin not understand that he wanted him gone, so his father did not catch him? So Arthur did not find himself forced to catch him?
"I am telling the truth-"
Apparently not. However, before Arthur could come up with a suitably scathing retort, Merlin (of course) interrupted him, "I saw her…!"
Gods, Arthur wanted to believe him—part of him did believe his manservant (Merlin could not lie to save his life, after all)—but did he not understand that—
Loud, booming knocks immediately and effectively derailed any type of coherent thought.
Springing forward, instincts driven by nerves and tension, Arthur shoved Merlin hard, "I don't care. You need to leave, Merlin!"
The knocks came again, accompanied by muffled voices, "Sire-!"
Nerves and tension took a swift dive into full-frontal panic. Arthur practically manhandled Merlin over to the door, "Go."
Merlin hesitated, did not move, and Arthur saw the stubborn refusal beginning to set into his manservant's blue eyes and jaw.
When the knocks came again, each more insistent than the last, Arthur decided they did not have any sort of time for a tetê-á-tetê. He threw Merlin at the servant's door, "GO!"
Arthur chose not to wonder why his heart felt as though it were sheering in two when Merlin finally, finally fled through the door and out into the corridor beyond. A choking swallow rendered him even more horrified (and more than a little mortified) as the door slammed shut behind the manservant Arthur had not realized he considered quite so important.
IOIOIOIOIOI
The tearing sensation never really disappeared, not even in the presence of Guinevere.
He supposed that should have told him something, but his experience missing people had, until now, been limited to his mother.
Perhaps, then, he could be excused if he did not understand at first why he wandered around a castle that seemed like it had only half the brightness, half the joy, half the security still in its possession.
As the days dragged on, as Catrina became more and more demanding, and as his father swayed more and more under her influence, Arthur (alarmingly) found himself having what he believed were nothing short of delusions: he would wake in the mornings, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, only to find himself shouting at an empty room. He would turn a corner, and catch a glimpse of midnight hair. He would sit at dinner and glance up, believing he had heard a familiar tread or seen a glitter of blue eyes laughing at him.
He could never actually locate them.
Eventually, it started to scare him: why did one person, one manservant matter so much?
Soon it grew so pervasive that one evening, not long after Merlin had fled Camelot, he ended up in front of Gaius's quarters. Convinced something had to be wrong with him, Arthur determined the wisest course of action would be to seek Gaius's counsel. Or at least a sleeping draught.
As had always seemed the case recently, Gaius's door had been shut, and it rattled underneath his knock.
A great deal of shuffling and screeching of wood against stone erupted behind the oaken door, accompanied only moments later by a half-stifled shout and muttered curse.
Arthur felt the corner of his mouth give the barest twitch upwards. Wonderful, reliable Gaius…it sounded as though he had tripped over something.
At last, the door creaked open and a blue-green eye peeked through the crack before a startled Gaius opened it all the way, "Your Majesty….?"
Arthur preferred to ignore the rapid sharpening of his physician's glance as the older man took note of his bowed shoulders and exhausted countenance, "I need your help, Gaius," he finally murmured.
He had barely finished his sentence before he abruptly found himself bustled inside, "Undoubtedly," Gaius remarked, ushering him to a seat. "What can I do for you, Sire?"
Worn thin, registering only the absence of the second lively presence in these chambers and not much else, Arthur collapsed into the chair where he had been directed.
Gaius's bushy eyebrow, already raised inquiringly, shot to his venerable hairline. Without a word more, he shuffled over to his herbs and began mixing.
Arthur found the steady motion of the old physician's deft hands soothing, and watched quietly as he put together several ingredients recognizable as a mild sleeping draught, letting his thoughts drift.
"…Did my mother ever have a lady hawk?"
The prince could only tell his question had startled Gaius by the brief stutter in the physician's stirring.
"She did. Why do you ask?"
Arthur frowned. Surely Gaius knew, as he did, that "lady hawk" was simply another name for the falcon called a merlin?
Cautiously, the Crown Prince shrugged, "I have no real reason, Gaius. I had wondered—Lady Monmouth has one. And I had wondered if—perhaps—she might have…let it go?"
Surreptitiously, he studied Gaius's reaction to the question. The old physician's shoulders tightened, "If she did?"
Arthur allowed the tiniest smile to touch his lips, "Then I would ask if you thought I might see him—it," amended quickly, "again."
Gaius's head jumped up and he blinked at Arthur in the closest approximation of shock the Crown Prince had ever seen him wear. "I…would hope so, Your Highness."
The young man nodded vaguely, not really processing much else aside from the older man's voice, "I wonder, you know. I wonder if she ever thought she saw its wings, or its eyes, and turned around only to remember it was no longer there. I wonder if it hurt when she remembered, if it hurt as much as I…" Arthur trailed off, shaking his head and blinking his eyes rapidly to alleviate the heat he felt building up behind them.
He nearly jumped clear out of his skin when a warm, wrinkled hand, smelling vaguely of chamomile, cupped his cheek.
Stunned, he stared up at his physician, who—after all—had always taken good care of him since he had been quite small, "Gaius!"
The older man remained stubbornly unaffected, "I am sure she did, Your Majesty, and I am sure it does."
Arthur swallowed another protest, hesitated a moment, and then reached up to cover Gaius's hand.
A sad smile touched the physician's lips. The prince knew why—he had not returned such a gesture in years.
"You need to sleep, Sire. Please take this and return to your chambers early tonight."
Swallowing again, Arthur nodded and accepted the tiny flask Gaius handed him. Only when he had entered his own chambers and crawled into bed after undressing, did Arthur remember that as he had left the physician's quarters, said physician had glanced up the steps to Merlin's room.
IOIOIOIOIOI
Perhaps because the remembrance of his discussion with Gaius remained so strong, Arthur found it easier to trust that Merlin would deliver the antidote to him on time once it became apparent that, in fact, Catrina was a troll and, in fact, Uther was enchanted.
(He preferred not to recall his father's callous dismissal of him, nor how much it ached when he had been disinherited and Merlin wasn't there to soothe it. Guinevere, though…He preferred, instead, to remember how embarrassingly relieved and pleased Merlin's sudden return had made him.)
Furthermore, once the antidote had successfully been administered, and regicide successfully averted, it took little thought at all to immediately move towards a very obviously shaken Merlin.
As he neared, though, Arthur's eyebrows quirked up, puzzled by the shimmer on his manservant's cheeks.
"Merlin?"
The younger boy made a sound that Arthur thought might have been chuckle, but came out so strangled and choked that at first he feared (yes, feared, he could admit to that now) Merlin had taken an as yet unnoticed injury.
"Are you all right?"
This time his manservant muffled the sound behind his hands. Affected in ways he was not yet comfortable with, Arthur frowned fiercely and reached up a hand, not sure where he intended to aim it, but knowing he needed the solidness of touch as a reassurance (he rather thought both of them did).
Merlin did not seem to notice, and gave another of those painfully strangled sounds behind his palms.
"You'll forgive me, Sire, but we aren't doing this again."
Although Arthur's thumb smoothed over Merlin's damp cheek and said manservant leaned unabashedly into the touch, both boys' breathless laughs came out just on the calm side of hysterical.
"As it was not my idea in the first place, Merlin, I am completely willing to agree with you."
Arthur crowed inwardly when Merlin finally emitted a weak chuckle, "Arrogant prat."
End Evolution