Disclaimer: You know how like in kid's movies where, if you want something bad enough and wish really really hard for it then you'll get it after ninety minutes of hardships and cliche life-lessons? Yeah, no, that doesn't work in real life. Do you want to know how I know? Because if it did, I would own Merlin by now. And do I own Merlin yet? No. So. Movies are bullshit and I hate them all for lying to me my entire life. That is all.


New Knights


An overnight patrol was quite routine and ordinary for the most seasoned of knights, and quite exciting for the newest of knights. They thought that, in the dark of the woods, danger was lurking behind every tree and this would be their chance to prove themselves to their king and senior knights. They wanted recognition and respect and they wanted it now.

Their impatience would be the death of them, the king had warned them all on numerous occasions, but they didn't pay him much mind. They were young and, though they respected their king, they were sure they would be fine. Men died all the time, yes, but not them. No, they would all live to win many battles and die heroes on some far-off day and place.

If they lived through their first over-night patrol, anyway.

King Arthur was leading the patrol, of course, and with him were his most trusted of knights; all of them were famous through-out the five kingdoms: Sir Gwaine, Sir Elyan, Sir Lancelot, Sit Leon, and Sir Percival. Three newly appointed knights were joining them on this patrol: Sir Urian, Sir Bartol, and Sir Samuel.

Oh, and the king's personal manservant was there as well. Marty or Morgan or something of the such.

After stopping to rest for the night, the camp lit up with chatter, the older knights all grinning and laughing with each other and the king and even the king's servant. How unheard of!

Samuel pulled a curious face, nudged Bartol's arm to direct his and Urian's attention to just acorss the camp to where the king's servant was telling a story of some sort, grinning madly as he elbowed the king. All the knights laughed when he finished his tale, their humor genuine and friendly. The king even, at whom's expense the story had been told, smiled slightly, rolling his eye as he pulled his servant into a headlock, ruffled his hair, and the released him, both smiling wider than before.

"Clotpole!" The servant grinned, his cheeks flushed as he straightened his jacket and neckerchief.

"Dollophead!" The king bit back, his tone affectionate and different from the just, kind ruler the newer knights knew him to be.

"What's the story there, do you reckon?" Urian asked.

"I'd heard that the king was quite fond of his manservant, but I never imagined he allowed such disrespect!" Bartol said, horrified at even the thought of such a thing, let alone a display of it.

"They seem a bit too friendly, don't you think?" Samuel asked.

"He's been working for the king since he was just the prince—bound to be a bond there after all these years." Urian shrugged, picked up his water-pouch, only to find it dry, and frowned at it, his throat dry enough to become uncomfortable soon enough if he didn't get a drink from somewhere.

"What about the knights, though? They seem like they're friends with him as well."

"They've probably spent enough time with the servant that it comes easy enough to pretend to like him."

The matter was dropped quickly, and with much embarrassment, then when the king's servant himself approached them, holding out a water pouch to Urian.

"Most people call me Merlin, actually." He grinned knowingly, obviously having overheard. And if he'd heard what had been said, had the king as well? That was their main fear, that they would somehow offend their king with such talk of his servant. "Thought you might need this, Urian." He explained, thrusting the water into his slackened hands and exchanging it for the empty one.

"Dinner's just about done; you lot might want to settle in if you're hoping to get any." He leaned in mischievously, his eyes twinkling. "Gwaine tends to eat a lot when he can't have his drink, you know." He laughed, met with their shell-shocked expressions when the other knights joined in with laughter of their own. Gwaine interjected indignantly until the King himself, caught half-way in a fit of laughter, said that Merlin was, for once, correct in his insults, and they should probably listen to him and prepare themselves for dinner.

Merlin was still grinning when he shook his head at the new knights, made a face of amusement and patience, and then walked back to the other knights and king, threw the waterpouch down and checked on whatever he had cooking in the pot.

Urian, Bartol, and Samuel all exchanged worried looks, the other knights—the king, even!—had all heard their previous conversation! They had to have heard if they'd heard a low joke like the one the servant had just told. If they were to face any sort of repercussions because of it… Well, that remained to be seen.

As one, the three knights straightened up, and made their way to where everyone was sitting, the food already passed out in the short few moments it took them to walk over.

They took their seats, looked to the servant expectantly, awaiting their dinner.

The servant, however, merely gave them an apologetic smile and a shrug. "I told you three Gwaine would get it all if you didn't get here quicker." He told them. They cast their eyes to Gwaine then, who was shoveling the food into his mouth in an exaggerated manner. He shrugged at them, continued eating without a word to them.

"Merlin isn't right about much," The King said, cutting his eyes to the servant's as he rolled his own. "But when it comes to Gwaine and food… I'd listen to him next time, if I were you." He took a bite of his own food, took his time chewing and swallowing as Samuel, Urian, and Bartol looked on in an almost pathetically devastating sort of way. "Oh, and, by the way," He added, pointing his spoon at the three, accusing and almost harsh in his next words. "His name is Merlin, not 'the servant' or 'the king's manservant', just Merlin. Are we understood?"

The three exchanged a look, more like children caught bullying another than a knight of Camelot in that moment.

"Yes, sire." Bartol bowed slightly, genuinely apologetic.

Samuel and Urian did the same, sorry that they'd been overheard, that they would not eat that evening, that they did not quite understand the relationship between the king and his servant more than anything else.

"Right. Merlin? You may feed them now—they are knights of Camelot, after all."

Merlin rolled his eyes, handed each of them a bowl of food and a spoon. "Enjoy." He told them just before he took his seat next to the king and took up his own food.