Yay, more updates! I'm really on a roll! Alright-y, special thanks to djpes for the prompt, I hope you enjoy the story :)
Quick Info- This one is an AU where Merlin is still a teenager when he starts working for Arthur (Young!Merlin but not Child!Merlin). Uther is still king and nobody knows about Merlin's magic.
Drabble 14- White Lies
"Really, Merlin, you'd think in your twenty years you'd have learned a little bit more," he'd said- an innocent comment. It was just meant as banter, but it had confused Merlin. He wasn't twenty. He wasn't even close. Admittedly, when he'd first come to Camelot he'd used a small aging spell so as not to look suspicious, but since then he'd slowly stopped using it.
"What makes you think I'm twenty?" He'd asked. In response, Arthur had rolled his eyes and told him that of course his was twenty, because you had to be at least eighteen to be a royal's manservant and he'd been his servant for two years now. Then he'd thrown a goblet in his friend's general direction and gotten all defensive because Merlin had apparently implied he didn't know basic math.
When Merlin had told Gaius, the physician had just laughed. He did confess to lying to the king about Merlin's age, but only so Uther didn't suspect the aging spell. Somehow, around the prince it had just "never come up" and the matter had been left alone.
Merlin had been disgruntled, but he wasn't eighteen yet, so he kept his mouth shut. No need to get fired now over something so trivial. He should've known it would come up again later.
Surrounding the campfire, the knights laughed wildly at Gwine's latest and greatest pub tale. "Story time" was one of the best parts of traveling in many of the knight's opinions. Merlin didn't see what was so great about it, but then again, that was when he did the dishes, so he probably wasn't the best judge.
"Merlin? What about you?" Asked Percival politely, spotting the manservant kneeling by the creek a few yards away. The big man felt sort of guilty; he'd noticed the servant was often excluded because of his chores, despite being one of Arthur's closest friends.
"What about me?" Merlin echoed, looking confused. Leaning back on his heels, he wiped he wet hands on the sides of his trousers, scanning the expectant faces. "What do you mean?"
"What's your best drinking story?"
"Now, now," Gwaine chided. "He's still the ripe young age of twenty, Percy. Poor dear's only been drinking for a couple of years now."
"Well, he's always at the tavern, so he ought to have a good one," Arthur snorted unhelpfully.
Right. The legal drinking age in Camelot was eighteen. Lovely. Not that Merlin had never had wine, but he'd found he didn't care much for the taste. He'd never been drunk, either, but he doubted Arthur would believe him with Gaius' oh-so-helpful overused excuse.
"Um…" Merlin stammered. Come on! Do you lie every day or not? Make something up! "Well, on my eighteenth birthday my friends and I played this drinking game…"
He carried on, making up an elaborate drinking game that involved marbles and two bottles of alcohol, and ending with drunken singing on tabletops. His audience loved it, and it looked like he might get out of the situation unscathed, when Gwaine spoke up:
"Oh! Mead marbles, I love that game!" Gwaine's whole face lit up.
"You do?" Merlin asked, surprised. He hadn't known it was a real thing.
"Yeah, in fact, let's play! I have marbles in here somewhere…" The knight trailed off, digging around in his bag for a moment before triumphantly holding up two canteens of mead and a sack of marbles.
"You do," Merlin repeated weakly. He knew what was coming next.
"Come on, Merlin, pour yourself a glass," invited the other man cheerfully, passing out the cups Merlin had just finished washing moments ago.
Maybe I can use magic to move the marbles, he thought desperately. The last thing he needed right now was to get drunk. He'd sort of hoped Arthur or Leon would shut things down and insist everyone get some sleep, but instead both were reaching for glasses of their own, looking interested. Wonderful.
In yet another stroke of bad luck, Merlin found himself seated between Arthur and Percival. No magic, then. Looking despondently at the four marbles he'd been given, Merlin sighed. He'd already forgotten the rules- this was going to be a disaster.
Merlin was the first to wake up the next morning. He crawled over to the creek and was immediately sick, losing all of his dinner from the night before. With a groan, the warlock rinsed out his mouth and rubbed his temples. His head was killing him and he couldn't remember what he'd said last night for the life of him. Hopefully he'd passed out before he could say anything that would get him in trouble... then again, he was still alive, so he must have done alright.
He tried to sit back on his heels, but ended up rocking too far back and landing on his rear, making his head throb. This isn't going to work. How was he ever going to watch over Arthur if he was hungover the entire time?
Although… he did know a few minor healing spells. It was worth a shot. With a flash of gold, Merlin was relieved to find the issue resolved. The others will probably be hungover too… he mused, sparing a glance at his sleeping companions. Maybe he should apply his newfound trick to them as well.
Almost as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, Leon rolled over and squinted his eyes open blearily. Well, there goes that idea. Too bad magic's banned. The thought gave him a mischievous sense of satisfaction, and he rejoined the group with a fresh skip in his step.
"Morning," he chirped to the rising knights, being louder than was strictly necessary. He got a chorus of complaints and two pillows thrown at him for his efforts. Not to be deterred, Merlin set about his morning chores. He was feeling pretty good until Arthur said drily:
"Someone must have gone to bed by his bedtime last night." Merlin paused, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"What?" He asked, turning to face his friends and trying to act innocent. Suddenly, the knights didn't seem too bothered by their headaches.
"Oh, that's right!" Gwaine said, eyes sparkling. "So, Merlin mate, looking forward to driving a cart all by yourself?"
"I always thought you looked young for your age," Lancelot admitted. Merlin swore under his breath- unfortunately for him, Gwaine heard.
"Why, Merlin!" He cried in mock shock. "Such foul language from one so young!"
"We might have to ground you," Arthur warned, grinning.
"You're not mad? I'm not fired?" Merlin asked hesitantly. Teasing he could take, as long as he wasn't about to get the boot.
"It's a bit too late to kick you out, idiot," Arthur scoffed. "And here I was thinking you were older than me by two years!"
"Besides, who could be mad at poor fifteen year old Merlin?" Gwaine cooed, wrapping his arms around Merlin. "All alone in the world? Mercy your highness, please have mercy!"
Merlin detangled himself, now getting irritated. "First of all, I'll be sixteen in a month, so-" He didn't get the finish; the knights all exploded into laughter at his comment.
"The baby of the group is really growing up!" Someone joked. Merlin groaned. It was going to be a long trip.
After that, weeks passed before it came up again. Back at the castle, the jokes at his expense (or at least, the ones over his age) were kept to a minimum. Some, like Leon and Percival, didn't really care. The rest weren't about to risk his job over something as dumb as how old he was. Regardless of what they said, he was their friend and they intended to look out for him.
It was then that the unspoken vow was put to the test. They were gathered in the main hall, Uther in his throne, Arthur to his right, and Merlin silently standing right behind them. Assorted nobles and their respective servants shifted around off to the sides. The focus of attention was on the current speaker, a young man from a wealthy family looking for work in the castle.
Apparently, he'd gotten in a fight with his father and taken his inheritance early. After proving himself to be unwise with money, he'd found himself with empty pockets and en equally empty stomach. Now he needed employment, and he'd work for none other than the king.
In short, he wanted to replace Uther's manservant. The manservant in question was named Tom, and he'd had an anxiety attack at the threat to his job and had to leave the room. The man had kids at home and had a bad limp, so he needed money and was unlikely to find it elsewhere. Oddly enough, Uther seemed to be almost fond of him. They weren't friends (in fact, Merlin doubted Uther knew Tom's name), but Tom was efficient and humble. He was dutiful in attending the king and a boost to said man's ego; thus, he'd secured his place in the castle for many years.
And now an arrogant, spoiled ex-noble wanted his spot.
"I'm the best you could hope for, your majesty," the man was currently saying, accompanying his words with a sweeping bow. "And I'll work for as little as twelve gold pieces a week." At this, Uther's eyebrows rose to his hairline. Merlin couldn't blame him- that was an outrageous amount to ask for. The man clearly had no intention of giving up his previously lavish lifestyle.
"I'll even work on Fridays," he added, with a generous smile. That was clearly the last straw for the king.
"I already have a manservant," he said airily. "And he works seven days a week for only three copper coins. You're dismissed."
"But sire!" The man cried, scrambling to maintain the royal's attention. "I'm a Cottinghan! The best blood you could ask for in your castle! I understand politics and the workings of nobility- can your current manservant say as much?"
No. Tom couldn't even write, and Uther knew it. Still, if anything the man's argument seemed to dissuade the king further. The idea of giving such an educated man access to his private life clearly bothered Uther.
"Cottinghan?" The king echoed. Merlin didn't recognize it, but it must have meant something to Uther because Merlin was positive the name was the only thing keeping his guest here. "And you're his oldest?"
"His youngest, sire."
"His youngest… Jonathon Cottinghan?"
Jonathon nodded his confirmation. A look of relief crossed Uther's face.
"If that is the case then you're only sixteen- a mere child. You have to be eighteen to work for me. You're dismissed."
"I'm seventeen," Jonathon argued, not seeming to care that one year changed nothing. "And he's not eighteen! How come he can work here and I can't?" At this, the man jabbed one finger at Merlin.
Merlin held his breath, sure that the youngest Cottinghan had just earned himself a cell in the dungeons for backtalk. To his surprise, Uther turned and examined Merlin.
"Fine," he shrugged. "Then he can be fired. Neither of you can work here if you're not of age. Now you are dismissed."
At his father's words, Arthur had jumped to his feet. "Wait, father," he interrupted. Jonathon looked up at the prince hopefully, who paid him no mind.
"My manservant shouldn't be fired," the blonde argued. Jonathon scowled. "He's done nothing wrong."
"Rules are rules, Arthur," Uther shrugged. "And the boy really doesn't look old enough."
"He is," Arthur blurted out. Merlin, who'd been watching the conversation with trepidation, felt his eyes widen in surprise. Did he just… lie to Uther?
"Is he?" Uther asked softly, his thoughts apparently running along the same lines as Merlin's. "And how do you know?"
"When I was in Ealdor, he celebrated his nineteenth birthday," Arthur said, surprisingly calm all things considered. Uther still looked unconvinced. "Father," Arthur tried, "if you fire him you'll have more people like Cottinghan-" he nodded his head in Jonathon's direction- "here applying for the position."
That seemed to make up Uther's mind. "Fine," he said, making an effort to appear unbothered. "The boy can stay." Merlin let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the knights relax. Merlin's secret was safe.
"Why'd you lie?" Merlin asked later as they were walking back to Arthur's chambers. Said prince didn't need to ask what he meant.
"I dunno, Merlin. Why don't you push your luck a little more and you can find out what unemployment is like, hm?" The servant was quiet at that. He knew Arthur would never actually fire him, but it was still a hard statement to come up with a retort to.
A moment later, Arthur seemed to decide he'd been too harsh. "I lied because despite everything, you're really not a bad servant. And, you know, it'd be pretty hard to train another one now, anyways. Do you understand?"
Merlin smiled. "Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Arthur."
"Don't thank me," the prince scoffed, relieved he'd dodged the any sentimental moments. "Go clean my armor instead."
"Yessir," Merlin gave an over-exaggerated salute and marched off. Even though he had chores to do, he couldn't help but feel happy. Arthur had stood up to his father to keep his secret. Sure, it wasn't the big secret, but it was a start, and Merlin didn't mind waiting a little while longer.