Another's Favor by ebhg

Rating: T

Pairings: Merthian/Arwen

Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.

Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.

A/N: Wow! I'm blown away by the response to this story. Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed! I should also let you know, this story is completely written, and 23 chapters long. I hope you enjoy the ride!


Negotiations

Merlin woke the next morning to the rustling snap of Leon and Percival shaking out their cloaks before slinging them over their shoulders. Sitting up and looking around him blearily, the manservant realized that he was the last to rise.

"Look who's finally up," Arthur teased from his place by the fire.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Merlin asked in groggy confusion.

"Gaius and the princess wouldn't let me," the king responded petulantly.

"Whatever happened to 'I'm the king?'" Merlin asked cheekily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"That's what I'd like to know," Arthur groused. "But now that you're awake we can leave, so get up you lazy dolt and help Gwaine round up the horses."

Merlin smiled at Arthur's subtle eagerness, knowing exactly why the king was so ready to get home. Chuckling to himself, the warlock stood up and wound his way through the crumbling stones out to the meadow where the horses had been hobbled.

Gwaine was taking a drink from his waterskin, having gathered the majority of the horses already, but there were a few that were still nibbling on the vegetation within the trees.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" Gwaine called, waving at the manservant.

"Morning. What did you do to get this job?" Merlin asked.

"I might have said something along the lines of Mithian having more control over you than Arthur," the knight admitted, grinning cheekily.

"I'm sure that went over well," Merlin laughed, heading towards a mare that was straying farther into the woods in order to hide the reddening of his cheeks.

"About as well as you'd expect," Gwaine laughed, tethering the reins of the horse he was leading and heading for another.

"At least you're not mucking out the stables," Merlin offered.

"At least there's that," Gwaine agreed, tying the last horse and eyeing the small group of animals with a frown.

"What is it?" Merlin asked, looking over the horses for himself.

"Well, my friend, we rode out of Camelot yesterday with fourteen horses," Gwaine began.

"Yes, we did," Merlin replied, unsure of what Gwaine was thinking.

"We obviously aren't bringing Morgana back with us, so we have one spare horse for King Rodor, but we also have Odin and his escort."

"Ah," Merlin said, the problem now clear. A moment later, the others joined them in the clearing, ready to mount up and get moving.

"What are you two dithering on about?" Arthur asked.

"We're three horses short," Gwaine answered. Arthur sighed and looked back to where Odin was standing with his two men.

"King Rodor can take my horse," Merlin offered. "King Odin can take the spare and his escort and I can walk."

"Why should you have to walk?" Gwaine protested.

"Like him or not, Odin is still a King," Arthur murmured quietly, warning the knight with a look.

"And I'm just a servant," Merlin added.

"You're more than that Merlin, and you both know it," Gwaine said. Arthur opened his mouth, no doubt to offer a terribly contrived denial, Merlin thought.

"Nevertheless, I doubt Odin would agree," Merlin said quickly before Arthur could utter a word. Merlin smiled gratefully at the knight but walked away to silence Gwaine's argument. The warlock smiled at Mithian as he passed her, unaware that the princess had overheard the quiet discussion.

Arthur frowned thoughtfully at his manservant while Merlin helped Gaius pack his things and get into his saddle. He'd been on the verge of agreeing with Gwaine's sentiment, but Merlin had spoken before he could. It twinged something in the back of the king's mind, something that always seemed to get buried under antagonism and brotherly banter. Arthur had known for a long time that Merlin was a private person. It had taken almost two years for Merlin to admit that he hadn't known his father, and not because the man had died but because he had left before Merlin was born. It was yet another few years- once Arthur was considering a marriage proposal to Guinevere- before Merlin had revealed to the king that the manservant's parents were never married.

Arthur had wondered many times since then if that was the only thing Merlin buried down under his cheerful demeanor, or if there was something more that Merlin kept close to his chest. The king rarely ever had the time at his disposal to ponder the mysteries of Merlin's character, but there were times, like this one, that the unidentifiable something about his manservant would jump to the front of his mind. That there was more to Merlin than met the eye, Arthur had no doubt.

"Are we headed out, or not?" Odin drawled cantankerously. Arthur looked at the other king disapprovingly for a moment before once again putting Merlin's oddities aside to ponder another day and moving to get into his saddle. There was a clatter of noise as the riders mounted their horses and fell into line behind the king of Camelot.

"Move out!" Arthur commanded, acknowledging Merlin with a nod when the servant silently fell into step beside the king's horse.


"We'll stop here to water the horses!" Arthur called out a few hours later as a small brook came into view. Merlin immediately took the reins of Arthur's horse as the king dismounted and waited wordlessly for Arthur to finish his waterskin and hand it to the servant to be refilled.

Mithian watched the thin servant make the rounds of the knights and his mentor, collecting all of their waterskins in order to fill them while he filled Arthur's. The princess was rather surprised when Merlin included not only her father, but Odin in his collection. Odin, it seemed, was just as surprised, but handed his waterskin over without comment. Finally, Merlin came round to Mithian.

"It seems almost cruel to have you do this after what happened the last time you filled my waterskin," Mithian said ruefully. Merlin smiled.

"I'll be just fine, this time," Merlin assured her. "I'll just be over there." Merlin pointed to the brook gurgling just a dozen feet away.

"Perhaps I'd better accompany you, just to ensure your safety," Mithian replied teasingly. Merlin laughed.

"Just don't tell Arthur, fair guardian. I'd never hear the end of it."

"Best to keep it between us, then," Mithian joked, unaware that her father was eyeing the two of them speculatively. The princess tucked her water skin under her arm, then tried to reach for those that were slung over Merlin's arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" Merlin asked.

"Helping," Mithian said simply.

"You're a princess," Merlin argued.

"Well spotted," Mithian teased.

"I'm the servant," Merlin replied. Mithian narrowed her eyes at Merlin, gauging his expression.

"You are far more than that, and you know it," Mithian murmured, echoing Gwaine's words from earlier. Merlin froze in surprise, then smiled sadly.

"Merlin! Water!" Arthur shouted, breaking the moment between the servant and princess.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," Merlin said, nodding at her and walking towards the stream. Mithian frowned, but followed after him with her water skin still tucked under her arm. As she knelt down at the brook beside the dark-haired servant, Merlin smiled at her and carried on with his chore. Mithian smiled in return, but then frowned once Merlin turned back to the water. She was surprised by just how much she had disliked it when Merlin had called her Your Highness, rather than using her name. The formality of it clashed uncomfortably in her mind with the memories of the closeness they had shared the previous night.


"Mount up, we're leaving!" Arthur called out after everyone had had a light repast. Merlin dusted off his hands, offering one to Gaius to help the travel-weary elderly physician onto his horse.

"Thank you, Merlin," Gaius said once he was seated comfortably. Merlin smiled and nodded at his mentor, moving towards Arthur to walk beside his master once more.

"Merlin?" Mithian called out, causing the warlock to turn around, a questioning look on his face.

"Yes, Your Highness?" Merlin asked, turning to head back in her direction. Mithian scowled inwardly at the title.

"Mithian," she blurted before propriety could silence her.

"Pardon?" Merlin asked, pausing mid-step in confusion.

"That is my name," the princess replied, giving a subdued smile.

"I'm sorry?" Merlin asked, growing more confused. "If I have done something to offend-"

"You called me Your Highness," Mithian interrupted, then looked awkwardly down at her gloved hands.

"Yes?" Merlin asked, still not sure what the problem was.

"Are we not friends? I would prefer it if you called me Mithian. Your Highness seems too formal, coming from you."

"Because you are well aware of my impertinence?" Merlin asked with a grin.

"No, because I am well aware of you," Mithian answered. Merlin smiled, then cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing around in an effort to bring himself back to the situation at hand.

"Mithian, then," Merlin acknowledged with another small smile. "Did you need some assistance getting onto your horse?" he asked, belatedly noticing that the princess was still standing beside the animal, fidgeting with the reins. The manservant stepped forward instantly, reaching out a hand to assist the princess into her saddle.

"You must be tired," Mithan offered, freezing Merlin where he stood beside her, his eyebrows raising once more in confusion.

"I'm just fine," Merlin assured her.

"You exerted yourself greatly yesterday after being gravely injured. Now you've been walking all morning, you must be exhausted."

"I'm really not as fragile as Arthur would have you believe," Merlin chuckled. "I am a peasant, after all. I was born to walk and work."

"I insist you ride my horse for a spell," Mithian demanded, pursing her lips in determination, grabbing Merlin's still-offered hand and thrusting the reins into it.

"I really cannot take your horse," Merlin argued, his eyes wide and alarmed as he handed the reins back to the stubborn princess.

"And I cannot ride it while you continue to walk," Mithian retorted, practically flinging the reins into Merlin's face when he tried to hide his hands behind his back. The horse stamped its hooves in consternation, causing Mithian to smirk triumphantly when Merlin scrambled to grab hold of the reins in order to keep the horse from bolting.

"I have to insist that you ride-" Merlin began, once more trying to hand the reins to Mithian, who had taken a note from Merlin and had hidden her own hands behind her back.

"I cannot!" she protested, shaking her head and grinning as Merlin stood stubbornly with the reins extended towards her.

"Why don't you both ride it?" King Rodor interrupted nonchalantly, causing Merlin and Mithian to redden and glance around them, realizing belatedly that most of the company was already mounted, and that they were watching and smirking at them. Gwaine, Merlin noticed ruefully, was biting his lip to keep from laughing aloud.

"Yes, Merlin, why don't you both ride it?" Arthur asked mischievously. Merlin shot Arthur an exasperated look, but with two kings suggesting it, one of them the father of the princess in question, Merlin couldn't refuse.

"Of course," Merlin said, grimacing at Arthur in much the same way as he had when Arthur had made him perform for Queen Annis.

"Of course," Mithian repeated in a regal tone, trying not to reveal how her heart was pounding and her palms were suddenly sweating.

"After you," Merlin gestured, offering his hand once more to help Mithian up onto the horse, then climbing up to sit behind her saddle. Merlin held his breath for a moment after he was settled, cursing himself for not expecting the close proximity that sharing a horse required.

Mithian nudged the animal forward at Arthur's command, her back tingling at the sensation of Merlin sitting just inches behind her, his warmth inexplicably making her want to shiver. Merlin however, was starting to question the intelligence of this arrangement. His coordination was known to be lacking on the best of days with both feet firmly on the ground. Now Merlin found himself perched behind Mithian with nowhere appropriate to hold on. He couldn't very well wrap his arms around her waist; he'd momentarily considered holding onto the back of the saddle, but quickly rejected that idea when he realized how close that would put his hands to other areas even more inappropriate than the princess' waist. The warlock finally settled on resting his hands on his own thighs and concentrating a layer of magical energy over himself to help him maintain his seat and his balance.

What Merlin hadn't counted on, was Gwaine.

Thirty minutes into their ride, Merlin had his eyes closed to help him concentrate on centering himself and his magic. Suddenly, Merlin felt a shove to his back, which unfortunately led to him falling into Mithian. His chest was probably pressed into her back for rather longer than was physically necessary, but Merlin couldn't pull himself away until he'd regained his balance, and his mental concentration was utterly gone.

Mithian said nothing, but looked back at Merlin questioningly.

"Sorry, someone thinks he's funny," Merlin murmured in embarrassment. Mithian inclined her head in acknowledgement, but said nothing. Her heart was beating so fast she didn't dare utter a word, lest her voice come out in a tremulous quiver.

Just when Merlin got himself under control, mentally and physically, Percival came aside them as the trail widened. Merlin eyed the knight suspiciously, but Percival said nothing and kept his hands firmly on his reins. Merlin decided he really should have known the large knight was just the decoy. Another nudge from the other side had Merlin pressing into Mithian again, though this time she remained steadfastly facing forward.

The knights delighted in the crimson color staining Merlin's cheeks every time they helped him get to know Mithian a little better. It was becoming harder to surprise the servant as the hours rolled by, but Gwaine was quite proud that they had managed more than a half-dozen times. However, at the end of the third hour, the king's party came upon a village where they were able to procure three new mounts and Merlin's sweet torture came to an end. Though neither Merlin nor Mithian could say that they were happier for it.


Just before sundown, the white towers of Camelot's castle came into view and the whole company began to move a little faster. Arthur sped up until his horse was nearly galloping, eager as he was to be back within the walls of his city and in the arms of his queen. Merlin laughed at Arthur's obvious enthusiasm and shared a knowing smile with Mithian beside him, both of them sure of the reason behind Arthur's sudden increase in speed. Gwaine's quiet, knowing, chuckles behind them, however, made them both smooth their expressions and face forward once more.

Queen Guinevere was waiting on the palace steps, resplendent in her finest gown, when the travel-weary group rode triumphantly into the courtyard. Arthur smiled a giddy and grateful smile upon seeing his wife. Just the day previous, he had been saying his final goodbyes and apologizing to her in his head while he waited for the stroke that would end his life. Arthur felt that he had been granted a second chance to make a difference in the world and as such, he fully intended to make sure that no one doubted his love for his wife.

As the king leapt down from his mount and flung the reins towards a waiting stablehand, Guinevere smiled at his exuberance and moved down the stairs to greet him. Arthur met her at the bottom and grabbed her in a fierce hug, picking her up off her feet and swinging her around before placing a passionate kiss upon her lips.

Arthur's common-born (or common-by-choice, in Gwaine's case) knights whooped and whistled at the display while Merlin applauded, grinning at Gwen's blush once Arthur finally put her down. Mithian looked to her father, expecting to see disapproval in his gaze, but she was surprised to see a fond glimmer of remembrance in his grey eyes. It wasn't often that Mithian was reminded that her father had loved her mother so deeply, but it gladdened her heart to see the evidence of their bond, long deceased though her mother may be.

Mithian then found herself looking for Merlin in the crowd, catching a glimpse of him unloading baggage from his mentor's pony as the old man rested his weary frame on a nearby bench. As though he felt her eyes on him, Merlin turned to look over his shoulder, catching her off guard and holding her gaze for a few moments. With a small nod and a gentle smile, Merlin returned to his task and dutifully handed the physician's baggage to another servant when Arthur bellowed for Merlin to follow.

"Something catch your eye, Princess?" Gwaine asked her. Startling, Mithian turned to the knight in question and stuttered uncharacteristically.

"N-no! I, I, I'm not sure what you're talking about," she finally managed. Mithian cursed inwardly, wondering where the hell all her noble decorum had disappeared to in the last week. Gwaine merely smiled at her flustered state, a roguish glint in his dark eyes.

"There's no harm in it. Our good king himself has proven that the servants aren't exactly off-limits around here for a royal such as yourself," he drawled. Mithian burned a bright red and finally found her lost decorum, straightening her spine and willing the blush to fade.

"I haven't any idea what you could mean, Sir Gwaine," she insisted, before finding her way up the steps, Gwaine's chuckles following her the entire way.


On his tenth trip to the well for water to fill Arthur's bath, Merlin paused before the last staircase to wipe his brow. Glancing around to ensure no one was about, Merlin's eyes flashed and the buckets suddenly became much lighter. It was a risky move, since another servant might offer to take a bucket for him, but this close to the king's chambers, there wasn't usually a good deal of servant traffic.

As Merlin reached the top step, however, someone calling his name made him stiffen.

"Merlin, I'm glad I saw you, I was wondering if you could... Merlin? Are you alright?" Mithian's voice was suddenly concerned.

"I'm just fine," he insisted, willing his tense muscles to relax. "How can I help you, Mithian?"

"My father, I was wondering if Gaius had a tincture for his bruises. He was beaten... I'm so sorry, I'm keeping you here while you're holding those heavy buckets, please let me take one," Mithian entreated.

"No!" Merlin insisted, startling Mithian with his vehemence as he yanked the buckets away from her hands, miraculously not spilling a drop.

"Why not? It would help me feel better for getting you injured."

"Er... I told you already that it wasn't your fault, and you let me share your horse and that was more than enough... and, er... It wouldn't be proper!" Merlin said triumphantly, as though it had only just occurred to him that it was generally considered improper for a princess to be hauling water.

"You've seen what I think of propriety, Merlin. I can out-ride and out-hunt kings, I can burp with the manliest of men and I can very well carry a bucket of water!"

Merlin lifted the buckets up over his head, counting on his greater height to keep Mithian from reaching them. What he hadn't anticipated, though, was that Mithian wasn't above tickling him. Merlin instantly buckled over, chortling heartily with each poke and prod to his sides. Mithian laughed merrily, encouraged by Merlin's infectious chuckles. However, neither of them realized that their enthusiastic giggling and playful protests had drawn the king's attention. Arthur watched from his doorway in complete disbelief as Merlin laughed and squirmed under Mithian's hands.

The manservant's reaction was so enthralling that, for a moment, Mithian forgot why she had started tickling him in the first place. Merlin did as well, lowering the water in his attempts to evade the princess' deft fingers. Just as Mithian came to herself and tried to use Merlin's distraction to grab at a bucket, Merlin straightened and began swinging the buckets around, doing his best to avoid Mithian's reaching hands.

Merlin was doing well, keeping the water in the buckets with a layer of magic, but he froze and his concentration broke when a throat cleared behind Mithian. The princess took advantage of Merlin's sudden stillness and managed to snatch a bucket from his hands. However, at its unexpected lack of weight, Mithian over-compensated and water flew into her face, drenching her from head to waist.

"Merlin!" Arthur's voice scolded and Merlin's eyes widened at the spectacle unfolding in front of him. "What did you think you were doing?!"

Merlin bit his lip and shrugged, not even bothering to insist that it hadn't been his fault. It wasn't as though he'd asked Mithian to yank a bucket away from him, after all. Then his eyes guiltily moved over the princess' soaked form; when he finally met her eyes, Merlin realized that she was struggling not to laugh. Biting his lip harder in an ineffectual attempt to contain his own mirth, Merlin looked to Arthur's incredulous face.

"Bad enough you've doused her in water, now you're laughing about it? Did that blow you took yesterday knock any last remaining sense you had out of your head?!"

Mithian couldn't hold it in any longer; she bent nearly double, clutching her stomach as she laughed till she could hardly breathe. Merlin lost it too, laughing heartily over the whole situation. He was suddenly shocked breathless, though, when the second bucket was taken from his slack grip and dumped over his head by a grinning Mithian.

"How is that for propriety?" she asked innocently, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. Merlin could only gape at her dripping hair and smug-yet-serene smile, causing her to laugh anew.

Arthur blinked in confusion, looking from Merlin to Mithian, one laughing merrily and the other gaping in shock.

"Arthur?" Gwen's voice called from the royal chamber's doorway.

"I'm coming," Arthur called over his shoulder, completely flabbergasted by this bizarre turn of events. Gwen stepped into the corridor and then she too, could only stare at the soaked pair in confusion.

"We'll leave you to it," Arthur said finally, backing away as though he might be next to be doused with cold water. Gwen looked between Merlin and Mithian in sudden understanding, a sly smile stretching across her face as she too backed away towards the royal chambers.

"Have fun!" were Guinevere's final words before the door was latched shut behind the king and queen.

Merlin smiled at the sudden prospect of a free evening and looked to Mithian, who had finally gained control over her laughter.

"Bruises, you say?" Merlin asked, gesturing for Mithian to precede him down the hallway towards the physician's chambers. The both of them chuckled at the few stares that they got, being utterly soaked from head to waist. Mithian scoffed at the tsk-tsks that echoed from a pair of noble ladies in the cloisters but Merlin ducked his head to hide his impish grin. Gaius didn't even blink an eye, accustomed as he was to Merlin's clumsiness and odd accidents, when they showed up soaking wet and looking for a bruise remedy.

It was only much later, after Mithian had gone on her way and Merlin was settling into his bed that he realized Mithian hadn't said a word about the weightlessness of the buckets.


With his mind preoccupied by what Mithian must have thought about weightless buckets of water, Merlin didn't notice Gwen's scrutiny the following morning. He had just finished putting clean sheets on the bed and had begun gathering the dirty laundry when he realized that the scratching of Gwen's quill had ceased. Turning towards the servant-come-monarch, he raised his eyebrow questioningly when he realized that Gwen was eyeing him speculatively.

"Something wrong, Gwen?" he asked.

"No," she answered with a slow shake of her head, elaborating no further.

"Something on your mind, then?" Merlin asked, unaccustomed to Gwen studying him as she was.

"Wouldn't you like to marry someday, Merlin?" Gwen asked without preamble. Merlin's eyes widened at the question before he shook his head and laughed at the idea.

"I hadn't thought of it," he answered honestly. He'd not considered anything of the sort since he put Freya's body adrift upon the Lake of Avalon and set fire to the boat. Merlin stooped to pick up the king's carelessly discarded clothing and scoffed at the mud caking a pair of trousers. He had a feeling Arthur looked for mud holes to stomp in just to irritate his manservant.

Merlin then had to fight down a grimace before blindly shoving everything into his laundry basket when he found Gwen's nightdress and underthings in a crumpled pile with Arthur's nightclothes. Gwen was never so careless; her clothing was never on the floor unless Arthur had put it there, which led Merlin's thoughts down a path he'd rather not follow.

"You've never considered it? I've heard it on good authority that Elfa in the kitchens is rather fond of your ears," Gwen teased. Merlin sputtered indignantly, fighting the urge to cover the apparent objects of Elfa's affections.

"I don't think so," he finally managed, wishing he could leave this conversation already.

"Don't you want to take a wife?" Gwen asked, surprised by Merlin's vague answer.

"Sometimes, I feel I already have," Merlin muttered darkly as he plucked Arthur's sock from a wilting flower arrangement, reminding him that the king wanted him to go pick more flowers for Gwen.

"Merlin!" the queen exclaimed in a scandalised voice, though her giggles gave her away. Merlin sighed, resigned to giving Gwen a more satisfactory answer.

"Who exactly would I court? And don't say Elfa from the kitchens, I know what she's been up to with half the castle servants!" Merlin said, pointing his finger at Gwen before she could say anything. "When exactly am I supposed to court this mystery girl, hmm? I'm here as the sun rises and at Arthur's beck and call until well after sundown. And if by some chance I'm not here, I'm collecting or delivering something for Gaius or grinding who knows what into a powder for him. Don't even get me started on his leech tank! As much as Arthur would love to think, I don't exactly have time to dawdle around."

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Gwen apologized, recalling how busy a servant's life could be. Merlin, who essentially held two jobs, what with his position with Gaius, was rather more harried than Gwen had been as a lady's maid or general castle servant.

"I'm not, Gwen," Merlin said kindly. "I may not have time to woo, as Arthur would say, but I do have friends and a purpose here, which is more than I had in Ealdor. I am not unhappy, Your Highness."

Gwen smiled in understanding. It wasn't often that Merlin addressed her by title, especially when there was no one to overhear them. It was a tactic that he used whenever Gwen tried to ask him about his youth or why he left Ealdor. She had come to understand that Merlin could be a very private person and when he addressed her as Your Highness, it was usually because he wanted to close a subject to further conversation.

"Alright, Merlin, I won't pry any further. But don't discount a romance just for our sake, please."

"Of course not," Merlin laughed, though in truth, had no expectation of following through with the promise. He had a destiny, after all, and it had proven time and again to be a rather troublesome thing.


"I will not concede any lands to you, Odin," King Rodor said firmly, intentionally omitting the man's title. "Your invasion was unjust and without provocation. I owe you nothing, for Nemeth is not in your debt."

"If you are unwilling to compromise, perhaps you would consider a political match. My wife has been gone these many years," Odin suggested, looking over to where Princess Mithian sat beside Queen Guinevere, his eyes clearly passing over the princess as though evaluating a prize. The other royals that were gathered around the table straightened indignantly at the blatant, lustful gaze of the invader. Rodor would never be able to forget the way Odin had grasped Mithian's chin and leered at her when he had come into the throne room of Nemeth like the trespassing scoundrel that he was.

The stunned silence was broken when Merlin set a pewter jug of wine down on the table in front of Odin rather harder than was necessary. Odin looked away from Mithian and shook the splattered droplets of wine from his hand. He then glared at the servant, who was ignoring the royal by busying himself with laying out the food on the tray he'd just brought up from the kitchens. It was a subtle diversionary tactic, but it was enough to pull Rodor out of his shock.

"Out of the question," Rodor growled. Odin raised an eyebrow at Rodor's anger, but didn't push the subject further. Rather, Odin smiled smugly, knowing that he'd found a weak spot in Nemeth's armor. Rodor narrowed his eyes, realizing what he'd just given away in his angry response. Mithian narrowed her eyes as well, refusing to be used as a pawn in Odin's attempt to keep ahold of Nemeth after his thwarted invasion.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Arthur soothed, also sending Odin a warning look. His glare was nothing, however, next to that of Queen Guinevere's. The steel in Gwen's eyes was almost enough to make Odin apologize. Instead, he smirked to himself and filled his goblet with more of the delicious wine the impertinent servant had practically splattered all over the front of him.

It took the rest of the afternoon and plenty more wine and arguing, but Odin finally agreed to pull back his forces and rescind his claim on Nemeth. Rodor wasted no time in sending riders off to inform his best knights and his council that they were to handle things until Rodor's health improved enough to make the journey home.


A grand feast was held that night to celebrate the new truce. The tension that had imbued the entire negotiation process had finally dissipated to a tolerable level. It had gladdened Rodor's heart to see Mithian genuinely smiling again. For the most part, she had been rather quiet and subdued since her ordeal with Morgana. Rodor had only just that morning heard the full story of Mithian's journey to Camelot and how Morgana had used his strong-willed daughter as a pawn.

Mithian's mind had seemed far away when she had related to him how Merlin had been the one to suspect Morgana. Rodor had been surprised when her eyes had misted over when Mithian had told him how she had tried to give Merlin a message, which had resulted in Morgana's attempt to kill the manservant. The guilt which so clearly plagued the princess certainly explained why Mithian seemed so preoccupied with Merlin of late. In fact, before this evening, it was only when Mithian was conversing with the dark-haired lad that she seemed to be genuinely happy. Thus, Rodor was hopeful that her interest in the young man would go along with what he had in mind.

As it was, Merlin was the servant attending those at the head table during the feast and Rodor did not miss the poorly-concealed looks that his daughter directed towards the lad. Nor did Rodor miss the pleased grins that crossed Queen Guinevere's face whenever she, too, caught Mithian's eyes following Merlin as the servant poured wine and served food. It was when Rodor saw Merlin's gaze catch Mithian's for a fleeting moment and the familiarity in the smile that passed between them that his decision was solidified.

However, Rodor and Guinevere weren't the only ones with their eyes on Mithian. Odin didn't even attempt to conceal his lust for her, which left Rodor ill-at-ease. Until Mithian was wed, Odin would continue to to seek her hand, Rodor was sure. Considering Nemeth's position as a physical barrier between Meredor and Camelot, it was no wonder that Odin wanted Mithian for his wife, regardless of her considerable beauty. Even though Nemeth was a much smaller kingdom than either of its neighbors, even with Arthur's relinquishment of the lands surrounding the Labyrinth of Gedref, it held a wealth of riches, as well as valuable trade routes from the sea.

Long ago, King Rodor had hoped that a union between Arthur and Mithian would strengthen Nemeth's position in the face of Odin's aggression. But the union had fallen through, much to Odin's delight. Not that Rodor could hold it against Arthur, especially after seeing the young monarch with his chosen bride.

Rodor was no fool. Mithian may not be in line for the throne of Nemeth, but she would still need a strong marriage to cement their kingdom's position within Arthur's court. A highly ranked lord of Camelot might have been a wise choice if the young Pendragon had held more stock in noble birthright. That his queen was a former maidservant and Arthur's best and closest knights were mostly common-born peasants spoke of what Arthur believed when it came to the measure of nobility. And one man, Rodor had come to find, though of very lowly station to the public eye, was more influential than any noble in Arthur's court. More influential than any other, save perhaps the queen.

That man was Merlin. A peasant-born servant who, in a single afternoon, risked his life to save and sway kings and avert a potentially long and bloody war, only to faithfully serve dinner to his king the following evening. That was humility. That was influence. That was nobility. That was the match Rodor wanted for his daughter.


Thanks for reading!