"A Single Blade of Grass" (Rose)
A feeling of worry washes over me as Merlin doesn't return at his normal hour. Though I know Gaius informed me he looking after Arthur's guests, I am only troubled at the thought that, deep down, he is avoiding seeing me again after what almost happened. My thoughts begin to drift to what he thinks about what almost happened … and what would have happened if what almost happened actually did happen … Now my head is swirling with far more than one "happened" too many.
A strange confidence causes me to rise to my feet, though I physically sway as I do. Nerves do not flatter my movements in the least.
"Are you alright?" Gaius questions as he ladles the soup I've prepared for supper into his bowl.
"Never better," I head for the door. "I'll be back. I want Merlin to eat before the soup gets cold," I call over my shoulder.
As much as it is true that I do not wish for Merlin to have to swallow cold soup, which is rather unappealing in every sense, I simply cannot live with this tension of unknowing any longer.
Traipsing through the royal guest quarter's corridor, the clattering of falling objects reaches my ear. The jump in my heart confirms that Merlin is the source of the ruckus.
Two unfamiliar knights exit a nearby room with smirks on their faces. A sensation of distrust floods my being, but I push past it and peer into the guest room.
There Merlin is on his hands and knees cleaning up the contents of their trunk, which for some reason lies on top of the wardrobe. I watch him quietly for a moment, deducing what it is that went on. He lifts his hand to the top of his head and grimaces at his own touch.
"Are you hurt?" I swiftly join him on the floor, taking his hand from his head and looking for visible signs of a wound.
Merlin softly laughs. "How quickly do you forget yourself?"
I blink in confusion, shaking my head slightly. "What do you mean?"
"You're kneeling on a gauntlet," he gently pokes my right knee.
"Oh," I blush, removing the armored glove from beneath me. "I hadn't noticed."
"My point exactly," he smiles tenderly. "And, I'm okay, just a bit bruised."
"What happened?" I inquire.
"Apparently our guests mistook my name for Mule-lin, and not Merlin," he widens his eyes and purses his lips.
"Oh, no," I sigh, grasping his implications. "I'm so sorry." He nods in response. "Would you feel at all better if I told you I made your favorite soup?"
His smile returns instantaneously. "I love y-" my heart stops as his face turns white as a ghost. "Your soup." He gulps.
I steady my breathing. "I'm thankful for that or my news wouldn't have done much good to cheer you up."
"I'm just glad that you're here," he says pointedly, as if trying to tell me something without actually saying it. "The soup is an added prize."
I laugh with relief, understanding what he wants me to know. "And I'm glad to be here," I reply, letting him know I don't feel funny about anything between us. "Even if it is to kneel on a strange knight's gauntlet."
Our laughs seem to harmonize and as we clean, all seems to be right with the world once again.
While we make our way back to our home, I want to ask Merlin if he thinks Gaius saw anything, and if he did what he would think. An even bigger part of me just wants to know what Merlin himself thinks of everything- what he thinks of us. But I resolve as we walk through the door of Gaius's chambers that the chances of me ever asking are slimmer than a single blade of grass.
As soon as I place the bowl in front of him, Merlin begins ravenously digging at his dinner, slurping each spoonful with great haste.
"It's very hard to work out whether you are eating or inhaling that soup," Gaius remarks. I am unsure if he is horrified or rather impressed.
"I haven't had anything all day," Merlin explains between bites. "Sir Oswald had me at his beck and call."
"I can testify to that," I comment, sitting gingerly down next to him.
"How is he?" Gaius questions.
"Awful. He treats me like dirt," Merlin spurts in reply. I give him a sympathetic glance. I never would picture a knight conducting himself in such a way.
"That doesn't sound like the young man I knew," Gaius's tone shows disappointment. "He always struck me as a rather kind and thoughtful soul."
"He must have changed," Merlin assures him.
"You must remember that not all masters are as good to their servants as Arthur," Gaius reminds Merlin, who promptly spews his soup into Gaius's face.
I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle both shock and laughter.
Merlin's expression contorts into one of horror and embarrassment all at once.
Gaius slowly opens his squinting, now soupy, eyes. "Thank you, Merlin," his words drip with sarcasm as I reach my hand over, giving Gaius a napkin.
"Sorry," Merlin says out of lack for a better response.
As Gaius wipes our dinner off of his eyebrows, the chamber door suddenly creaks open revealing Gwen. "Merlin," she says in an odd tone. "I think you need to come with me."
Sadly leaving his soup behind, Merlin gets up from the table and follows after Guinevere, making a face mirroring his thoughts about his mishaps of the evening as the door shuts once more.
I can't help but let laughter spill from my lips as I look back at Gaius's soup-coated forehead.
"Taxing" (Merlin)
I didn't think today could be anymore taxing. Boy, was I wrong! First Rose and I almost- anyways … Then these knights come in and walk all over me, I spill their things due to the utmost ridiculous requests, then Rose comes back and everything is perfect somehow. But then I go and spit out the soup made specially for me by the most incredible girl alive all over the man who has been like a father to me for years now. And to make matters worse, I follow Gwen all the way to the pub to find that Gwaine seems to have consumed every fermented beverage within the kingdom.
"You drank all this?" I ask Gwaine, feeling utterly hammered by the numbers I just read.
"With some help from my new friends!" he waves sloppily at the nearby tables who cheer at his motion.
"He says he hasn't got any money," the man who runs the tavern turns on me, grabbing my coat forcefully, raising me off the ground. "So it looks like you'll have to pay."
"I can't afford this!" I protest.
"You better find someone who can," he threatens as he releases me from his grip.
Gwaine chuckles heartily as he tumbles to the floor. I roll my eyes at his foolishness, catching the glance of the tavern's owner. I force a small smile and make my way over to my new, far too slathered friend. I can think of nothing else to say to the bartender than "You may expect Prince Arthur to pay his bill in full." With that, I pull Gwaine from the floor and leave with a smile at my own quick thinking.
The walk home is tiresome, but Gwaine's drunken speech is terribly amusing. Upon arriving home and in order to support Gwaine's weight and successfully get the physician's door to open, I kick at it pathetically.
Rose cracks open the door with a concerned look on her face. Gwaine simply greets her and a look of understanding sweeps over her face. With that, she supports his other side and we carry him to the room we share.
"You're the best friend I've ever had," Gwaine slurs as I lay him back into bed.
"You seem to have quite a few," I laugh heartily.
"Oh, I'd love to see Arthur's face when he gets that bill," Gwaine remarks with wide eyes full of humor.
"Right," I say, crossing to the other side of the bed and sitting. "What is it with you and nobles?" I ask as Rose watches his response carefully from her side of the room.
"Oh, nothing," he huffs a semi-sloppy breath. "My father was a knight in Caerleon's army," he answers with just a hint of actual sensitivity. "He died in battle, leaving my mother penniless … And when she went to the king for help, he turned her away."
"You didn't know him?" I inquire after his father.
He shakes his head. "Just some stories I've been told."
"Yeah, I know how that feels," I say, looking at the ground. A sad silence settles in the room and I feel prompted to explain. "I met my father just briefly before he died."
"Why?" Gwaine asks, wincing as he sits up straight.
"He was banished," I tell him.
"What had he done?" he questions further.
"Nothing," I state honestly, but with too long of a pause. "He served the king."
"But the king turned against him?" he drives his point, and when I don't respond, he continues. "That doesn't surprise me."
"Arthur's not like that," I jump to the prat's defense.
"Ha! Maybe," Gwaine laughs, clapping a hand onto my shoulder. "But none of them are worth dying for, huh?" and with a little shake, he bursts into laughter and leans back, only to smack his head into the wall behind him. As the three of us laugh, his gaze shifts to Rose. "What say you, delicate soul?"
Her eyes grow suddenly grim. She takes a deep breath and replies, "My father died at the hand of the king, but never would I hold the prince responsible for his father's actions."
"Then you forgive where I cannot," Gwaine says, sounding shockingly sober.
"I don't know that it is a matter of forgiving rather than it really being a matter of noble or not, a man is still a man, and it is his actions that ought to determine whether or not he is worthy of such a dedication as another giving their life for him. Nothing more, nothing less," she says in her meek, matter of fact tone.
Gwaine squints thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right … But I'm afraid I'm too drunk to ever remember what happened tonight, let alone this conversation. If not, it was still a pleasure," he smiles dopily as he readjusts his body and nuzzles his face into his pillow.
Too shy to do much else, I wave a silent "good night" to Rose. I can't say I'm sad to see this day pass me by.
( (From the author: Wow, okay, I am so, so, so sorry it's taken me forever to update. My summer has been so insanely busy. I can't tell you how much I've missed updating this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and again, I can't apologize enough for the wait. Hopefully the next one won't take so long to post. Don't forget to share your thoughts on the story with me.) )