Hello, everyone! Sorry for the later update-but I will tell you that I've not been slothful all this time. You now have fifty-five pages of reincarnation Merlin fic to look forward to (and I'm only on part 2, which means I'm not even halfway done yet). So yeah. Be prepared.
Thanks for sticking around, and for all the reviews and favorites. Here's more cute kitty!Merlin for you to snuggle:
Chapter Four
Arthur had always heard it said that dogs were the most loyal creatures man could ever have as companions. After today, however, he would beg to differ. None of his dogs followed his every step so closely that they got tangled up at his ankles like this cat.
He used his foot to push Merlin away roughly as he walked back to his writing-desk—not enough to hurt him, but enough so that he'd know Arthur meant it. Merlin, as always, completely missed the point of his master's action and instead considered it a game, promptly hopping right back at his feet, nearly tripping him for the third time in ten seconds.
"Merlin."
A meow, jovial and affectionate, was the only reply to his clenched-teeth warning.
"You," he declared as he spun to sit back down on his chair, "are, without a doubt, the most annoying pest in all the five kingdoms. I should keep you this way and give you as a gift to Princess Vivien. Maybe you would drive her away from liking me so much."
Merlin leapt up to the same spot on the desk where he'd been sitting before, meowed softly, and twitched one ear. His eyes pulled away from Arthur and roamed over the desk before stopping, once again, on the ink container. Luckily, Arthur was watching too.
"Stay, Merlin."
He wasn't sure if those sorts of commands worked on felines, and they most certainly didn't work on human-breed Merlin, but he figured he might as well give it a try all the same. To his surprise, the cat looked at him again, as though trying to gauge how serious his master was being, and then bent down until his head rested comfortably on the tops of his paws, his tail flicking back and forth slowly behind him and eyes locked upon the king's sun-tanned face.
Arthur was mildly impressed—though with his own authority, or with Merlin's (one-time) obedience, he wasn't exactly sure.
"Good," he commented lightly, and reached out to rub his fingers gently just beneath Merlin's jaw at his right ear.
It wasn't until Merlin's huge eyes closed as though he was dozing off, and his grateful purring broke into Arthur's aimless thoughts, that the man realized what he was doing.
He pulled his hand back, eyes narrowed awkwardly at himself as he realized he had been petting Merlin in a not-condescending manner, and retrieved his quill from where he'd tossed it aside at the feline's earlier adventure in the ink-bowl, intent upon ignoring the light blue-green gaze no matter how much persistent meowing reached his ears.
Merlin, at the loss of Arthur's warm touch, seemed to sigh noiselessly and, seeing that his master was deeply concentrated upon his work, rolled over onto his side for lack of a more interesting thing to do. (Arthur had moved out of his reach anything on the desk which may cause noise, mess, or general trouble.) The cat was temporarily amused by the alternate aspect of the room, his curious eyes darting about the place as Arthur's quill-pen scratched quietly upon the parchment.
Then, Arthur was fighting a long-withheld bout of temper as a river of ink from the container ran all over the scroll when Merlin suddenly flipped over onto his back and made a vicious lunge. All four claws scratched red marks onto his forearm through the thin fabric as his miniaturized imbecile struggled to get a grip upon a short red thread hanging from the arm of the well-worn shirt.
"MERLIN!"
The speech now gloriously ruined thanks to the dark splotches sinking into the parchment, Arthur shoved Merlin away and attempted to toss the thing aside before the cat's fur got into it and he tracked the black ink all over the place.
Merlin, uncomprehending of the situation and totally entranced by the tempting, red string, continued to wrestle with Arthur's movements, making it difficult for him to so much as see the tabletop to clean up the mess in front of him.
"Merlin, STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"
It had been a great many weeks since he had shouted so forcefully, and at the sound (which sweet and understanding Guinevere always told him was more terrifying than he thought), the young cat seemed to realize that his master was greatly unhappy with him. Without a moment's hesitation, he backed up a couple of steps and sat upon the far corner of the writing-desk, head bent and tail circled around, completely still except for the little folding-down of his ears.
Arthur ignored him for a long moment as he rolled the parchment and pushed it aside so that the ink would not run out; he had every intention of showing Merlin that his new fragility and—yes, he had to admit it, much as he was loathe to do so—adorableness made him no more immune to Arthur's ire than his old fragility and adorableness did, and so the king spun around to face him…and then ended up doing just the opposite.
He cursed inside his mind. How was he supposed to shout at Merlin when the idiot cat was watching him with eyes so big and infuriatingly glittery?
"What's wrong with you?" he sighed. It was more of a growl, really, and he was not certain if he was addressing Merlin or himself.
Merlin, hearing his beloved king's voice not as loud and angry as it had been a few heartbeats before, meowed in a tone which sounded suspiciously like that familiar "It wasn't my fault, Arthur!" So the king settled for collapsing again into his chair, now officially having given up on the parchment until Merlin's hands were back to speech-writing form, and then his eyes caught sight of the loose string on his sleeve.
He looked to Merlin again, and actually wanted to laugh at the predictability of the cat's eyes longingly watching the thread, ears moving a bit as though he were fighting an urge not to lunge for it again, for Arthur's sake, the man guessed.
With a slight headshake at his ever-ridiculous manservant, Arthur tugged gently on the string so that it would not break, and Merlin watched with a hopeful gaze as it came undone from the rest of the Camelot-red shirt.
"Is this really enough to entertain you?" the king questioned, dangling it in front of his face.
Merlin studied his face carefully and, seeing no more displeasure in the handsomeness of it, gladly pawed at the string.
Arthur pulled his wrist back, and Merlin, forgetting his earlier sadness, dove for it with his tail in the air.
The king could not hold in a sharp laugh at how mad the little creature looked, chasing a simple thread around in a circle like the fun of it was all that mattered in the whole world.
All at once and without warning, Arthur was saddened.
Reaching out—with intent, this time—he put his hand under Merlin's ribs and once again felt the pounding heart vibrating his tiny chest. The young feline, now entirely cured of his unhappiness, relaxed in Arthur's hand as the king lifted him up to eyelevel. As thought in question of Arthur's thoughts, Merlin reached out with one paw to tap curiously (and still somewhat playfully) at the man's cheek.
Arthur allowed it now, because a new realization had unexpectedly struck him like a lightning-flash…which was, incidentally, how most of his realizations about Merlin struck him, and always had, since the day they'd met.
He let go of the string and put his palm behind Merlin's back, feeling slightly foolish about not knowing exactly how to hold a cat but then understanding that Merlin was content no matter how he held him, just so long as he was holding him.
Merlin blinked at him, and Arthur was overcome by a strange feeling which twisted in his gut.
They had all endured so much since the day of his and Merlin's meeting, he thought solemnly, so much trial and heartache; sometimes it had felt like the sun would never shine again, after Morgana, and then his father….But looking into this creature's eyes now, he saw the innocence there that Merlin had always possessed, that ever-present fairytale-hope that believed in some love which still thrived in the world, and was still above to overcome evil and bring peace and joy to the good. It was that essence of Merlin which had been darkened the tiniest bit by reality since they'd met, with all the pain he'd endured in the service of Arthur—the physical injuries and the deeper wounds which always took longer to heal.
No one would ever guess it, he knew—least of all Merlin, but there were times when the king wondered if he was selfish to keep his manservant so close to him. He wondered the same about Guinevere, and Gaius, and even the knights—all of those who had, at one time or another, been put into harm's way for their association with him. But most of all, there was Merlin, who had proven himself over and over to be the greatest and most loyal friend one could ever find and still put up with Arthur's barricading walls of self-strength and solitude.
The cat in his hands mewled quietly, disliking the look upon his good master's countenance, and Arthur acted upon total instinct with him for once, pulling the creature forward against his shoulder and holding the warm body in his arms. He prayed, somewhere deep down, that Merlin wouldn't remember any of this once he was back to normal, but he mostly did not care in that moment whether he did or not.
Merlin deserved to have this innocence and peace of mind, even if it was in the mind of a feline, and even if it wouldn't last longer than the day.
Against his shoulder, a soft meow was muffled, and that loud purring started up again.
To be continued
Hope you enjoyed! Wish I could write more author's note, but I'm late for church as it is, so see ya! (And leave a review!)
