This fic is set somewhere between The Wicked Day and Aithusa. I set out to make this a somewhat canon compliant piece that fills some of the major worldbuilding holes where court life is concerned. We're assuming two or three months pass between those episodes, which gives Merlin and Arthur time to adjust to Arthur's new role as King and navigate any changes that entails. Let's pretend that in the meantime, Agravaine and Morgana are being their usual slow-scheming, incompetent selves and leave Camelot alone.
As always, I had a lot of fun writing and I really hope you enjoy! :)
"I can't believe Master Clive is leaving us," Gwen sighed as she plopped down on the bench next to Merlin with two tankards in her hands. "He's worked here since before I was born. Over forty years, I think."
"He was Uther's manservant for that long?" Merlin asked, a caraway cookie halfway to his mouth. "I never realised."
He glanced at Clive, grey-haired and wrinkled, sitting at the head of the table in the servants' hall. The man was known to be stern and serious. Now, though, he looked merry and red-cheeked in the face of his imminent retirement, the pewter mug in his hand overflowing with foam. All the servants working at the castle had been invited to celebrate with him.
Gwen shoved one of the tankards she had fetched towards Merlin. "Fifteen years as royal manservant, I think. He told me once that he started here as a hall boy. Worked his way up the ranks." She took a thoughtful sip of her own ale. "He's practically an institution at Camelot. Even the lords know not to get on his bad side."
"The lords? Really?" Merlin mulled that over as he popped the cookie into his mouth. Most of the lords didn't even spare Merlin a look. If they did, it tended to be a look of disdain.
"Of course. Clive has the King's ear." Gwen paused, looking a bit sheepish when she realised her mistake. "Well, had his ear. Just like you have Arthur's. That's a considerable amount of influence to have for a mere servant."
"Me? Have Arthur's ear?" Merlin scoffed. "He hardly listens to me and when he does, he ends up forgetting it was my idea." He picked up his tankard to wash down the sudden taste of bitterness in his mouth.
"Please, Merlin," Gwen said, frowning a little. "Everyone knows how much Arthur cares for you. No other servant could get away with even a quarter of the things you have said and done."
"Get away?" Merlin repeated with an eye-roll. "I remember spending a lot of time in the stocks."
"He hasn't punished you like that in ages," Gwen pointed out and her frown deepened. "Besides, in your new position? Arthur will think twice before doing anything of the sort. You're the King's manservant now. That means you're setting an example for the others. It's not a good look for the monarch's personal attendant to be openly disgraced. I don't think Master Clive has been publicly disciplined with anything more than a look of disapproval in a decade."
"Perhaps he was just that good of a manservant," Merlin suggested.
Gwen only raised an eyebrow at him and took another sip of ale.
In retrospect, Merlin should have probably realised how drastically his duties were about to change after that conversation with Gwen. At the latest, he should have got an inkling when he suddenly and without any input of his own received a considerable raise in wages. Really, though, Merlin should have anticipated things would be different from the day Arthur had been crowned King.
But he hadn't, and nobody told him, either. Everyone simply expected him to know.
Unfortunately, people tended to forget that Merlin hadn't grown up in a lord's household, like so many of Camelot's servants had. He had never learned about the running of an estate or castle from the ground up. He had never worked his way up the ranks. He had never been formally taught what was required of him. On top, he had been shielded – more so than Merlin had realised before all this – by Arthur holding a protective hand over Merlin, and Gwen helping him out whenever she could.
Merlin simply wasn't aware of the many duties of the King's manservant.
So it didn't strike him as particularly significant – if as a bit odd – when, about a week after Arthur's coronation and a few days after Clive's official retirement, people started randomly approaching Merlin around the castle.
"Master Merlin!" a vaguely familiar voice called out for him in the courtyard.
Merlin slowed and turned to see the freckled face and blond hair of a young hall boy. Merlin raised his eyebrow at the formal address, but only said, "Gage, right? Anything the matter?"
Gage was dragging another boy Merlin was unfamiliar with by the sleeve. "Kenny ain't doin' his work right," he said and pushed Kenny towards Merlin.
Kenny stumbled a bit, then caught himself and promptly ducked his head. He didn't say anything.
"Oh?" Merlin had no idea why Gage was telling him this.
"I keep pickin' up his slack," Gage continued and threw Kenny a fierce glare. "Been haulin' twice as much firewood as he has, and last night, I was pullin' double duty in the east wing 'cause he ain't showin' up for his shift! Was well and truly knackered come mornin'!" He looked at Merlin and crossed his arms. Clearly, he was expecting Merlin to solve the issue.
"Isn't this something you should be telling the steward?" he replied, confused.
Kenny flinched and Gage threw the other boy a look. "Ah, you see, Master Merlin, Lord Wesley's mighty quick whippin' out the paddle," Gage said, suddenly sounding a bit sheepish, "and I ain't no sneak like that."
"Right," said Merlin. "What would you have me do about it, then?"
Gage frowned up at him. "Well, chide him, o'course!" he said, like it was obvious. "Tell him to get a wriggle on!"
Merlin blinked. He looked down at Kenny, who was still studying his feet. The boy appeared to be a couple of years younger than Gage, perhaps nine or ten summers old. "Is Gage telling the truth, Kenny? Have you been, uh, neglecting your duties?"
Kenny gave a hesitant nod. He had laced his hands at the front and now started wringing them.
Merlin frowned. "Is there any reason you're not doing your work?"
Kenny shrugged.
Merlin glanced at Gage again, who had gone back to glaring at Kenny. He felt completely out of his depth here. How should he solve this squabble between the servant boys?
"You need to do better, then," Merlin said awkwardly, for wont of a better solution. "You can't ask Gage to cover for you all the time. It's unfair to him."
Kenny gave another mute nod.
Merlin looked at Gage and waved in a vague sort of there you go gesture.
Gage narrowed his eyes. "That's it?" he said, sounding incredulous.
Merlin stared at him. "What else would you have me do?"
Gage pressed his lips together and for a moment, he looked like he was about to snap at Merlin. But then, strangely enough, he only bobbed his head. "Ta very much, Master Merlin," he said, all the while sounding distinctly ungrateful. A moment later, he was dragging Kenny away again, muttering, "Next time, I'll be draggin' you before Lord Wesley for sure!"
The whole incident was rather strange, but Merlin chalked it up as a random occurrence and pushed it to the back of his mind.
Just a day later, a chambermaid flagged Merlin down in the hallway.
"Master Merlin, do you have a moment?"
Merlin really didn't – he was already running late attending Arthur during council – but the chambermaid was blocking the hallway and tapping her foot impatiently. She looked about ready to throttle somebody – possibly Merlin.
"Yes?" he asked, once more noting the strange form of address.
"We keep running out of fresh sheets!" she said, her tone brusque. "The head laundress says they're not a priority, but how are we supposed to keep the guest chambers ready for the visiting lords? It's unacceptable, that's what it is!"
Merlin frowned. Again, he had no idea why another servant was expecting him to take care of their problem. Merlin liked to believe he was well-liked among the staff, but it wasn't like he was known to be some great issue-solver. Quite on the contrary, it was in his own best interest to appear somewhat endearingly foolish.
"Why don't you wash them yourself, then?" he suggested.
The chambermaid narrowed her eyes. "That's not my job, is it? We've got laundry girls for that."
"I suppose," Merlin replied. "I do all of Arthur's laundry myself, though."
That seemed to give the girl pause, her thunderous expression turning into more of a frown. "You do? I didn't know that." She hesitated, then added, "I reckon it might be different for the King's wardrobe. Of course I could do some of the washing myself, too, but I've already got so much to do…" She trailed off, suddenly looking unsure.
"I understand," Merlin replied. "It's a stressful job. Speaking of which, I'm running behind on my own duties with the King, so…"
The chambermaid nodded and, oddly enough, gave the barest hint of a curtsy as he made to leave. Still, Merlin couldn't shake off the feeling he had let her down somehow by not solving the sheets issue.
He was starting to see a pattern when Cook Audrey stopped him as he picked up Arthur's breakfast the next morning.
"Ah, Master Merlin, there you are. You don't happen to know which dessert the King would prefer for the upcoming feast?" she asked as Merlin lifted the prepared tray. For a woman who had spent the majority of the past seven years sending Merlin disapproving glares, she suddenly sounded surprisingly polite.
"Um, no, sorry. I could ask him, I suppose?"
"Please do," Audrey said. "You might want to tell His Majesty that we've got plenty of almonds and nuts, but not much in way of dried fruit."
"Right," said Merlin. "I'm sure he'll take that into account."
When he entered Arthur's chambers a few minutes later, the King was half-dressed and sitting impatiently at the table.
"Finally!" he exclaimed, sounding distinctly annoyed. "You're even slower than usual! You really need to get a move on! You can't let the King wait, Merlin."
"Sorry," Merlin muttered and pushed the tray towards Arthur. "I keep getting accosted by random people. Everyone suddenly seems to expect me to solve their problems."
Arthur immediately started digging in, reading over an official looking piece of parchment while blindly spearing a sausage with his fork. "Well, you are the King's manservant now," he said between two bites. In spite of his dismissive body language, he managed to make that fact sound like a rather big deal.
"Is that why half the staff has started calling me Master Merlin?" Merlin mused out loud as he poured Arthur some water.
"Yes, I suppose you've earned that title now," Arthur said absent-mindedly.
"By the way, Cook would like to know which dessert you'd prefer for the feast."
Arthur didn't even spare him a glance. "I don't care one way or the other," he muttered. "You pick something."
"Do you like almonds?" Merlin prodded.
Arthur put down the parchment with a strained sort of sigh, then glared up at him. "Merlin, I don't have time for this kind of nonsense. I am King now and have actual, important decisions to make!"
"Of course, sire," Merlin replied drily. "We wouldn't want you to strain yourself."
Arthur narrowed his eyes and Merlin could sense the mood in the room shift even before finding himself at the receiving end of the King's rising anger. "Listen here, Merlin," Arthur snapped. "I've been cutting you some slack for the past fortnight, realising you'd be needing some time to adjust. Gods know I've been busy adjusting myself, between my father's death, trying to figure out Morgana's next move, and the fact I have half of Camelot's nobility breathing down my neck every chance they can get, trying to take advantage of my lack of experience."
Merlin felt his cheeks heat up a little and his stomach twisted with a sharp jab of guilt. Of course, Arthur was going through a tough time right now – a tough time Merlin was partly to blame for. Uther's death had hit Arthur hard.
"However," Arthur continued, voice sharp, "if you find you've got the time to nag me about dessert, it might be a good moment to remind yourself that your job comes with certain duties. Duties which, much to my disappointment I might add, you have been sorely neglecting since my coronation."
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he wasn't the most diligent of manservants, but Arthur had never seemed genuinely dissatisfied with the overall quality of his work. He thought they had come to a sort of understanding which tasks Arthur absolutely needed done and which things Merlin could postpone or skip all together.
"I'm sorry, my lord," he said with a dip of the head, aiming for respectful in spite of his confusion. The King seemed genuinely upset with Merlin and Merlin generally wasn't stupid enough to provoke him when he was in a mood like that.
Arthur huffed, but the apology seemed enough to mellow him. He waved a dismissive hand at Merlin, then picked up the parchment again. "Fine. Just, stop slacking," he said gruffly. "I don't want to hear another complaint from Lord Wesley."
"The steward has been complaining about me?" Merlin couldn't help but ask.
"You haven't been showing up to the meetings, of course he's come complaining," Arthur replied with an eye-roll. "Now leave me be. I need to go over these reports before the council session, or the lords will eat me alive."
Merlin dearly would have liked to ask what meetings Arthur was talking about, but didn't want to rile him up any further. Still, he felt like he was missing something important here.
Once he had returned the breakfast tray to the kitchen, informing an annoyed-looking Audrey that the King didn't have a preference for dessert, he sought out Gwen. Now that she was no longer required to help Clive nurse an ailing Uther, she was out of a proper position at the castle and was helping out the royal seamstress.
Gwen didn't seem too upset about being pulled from the sewing table and into the corridor.
"Please, tell me you've brought some good gossip," she said eagerly as Merlin unceremoniously dragged her into an alcove down the hallway for some privacy. "I've spent the past three hours stitching decorative crosses on red velvet curtains. It's dreadfully monotonous work."
"Sorry," Merlin replied. "Actually, I'm here because I need your help."
Gwen frowned. "Are you in trouble?"
"I think I might be?" Merlin replied slowly. "I don't know why, though. The other servants keep getting angry with me for no reason, and Arthur just chewed me out for neglecting my duties."
To Merlin's complete surprise, Gwen bit her lip for good measure, then revealed, "Well, I didn't want to say anything…"
Merlin stared at her. "What? What have I been doing wrong?"
"Nothing," Gwen hurried to say, then worried away at her lip again.
"Lords, it must be really bad then," Merlin exclaimed and grabbed her shoulders. "Tell me, Gwen! What have I done?"
"It's more the things you haven't done," Gwen replied with an apologetic smile.
"Like what?"
Gwen shuffled on the spot and stroked a hand over the front of her dress. "Well, it's just, Master Clive was a very diligent, very responsible sort of man…"
Merlin blinked. "Yes, so I heard. What's that go to do with me, though?"
Gwen stared at him. "You really don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
Gwen turned her eyes to the ceiling and sighed, as if sending a prayer for strength to the gods. Merlin gulped as apprehension started rising in his throat.
"Right," she finally said. "Time for some tutoring."
As it turned out, Merlin had not only been neglecting his duties, he had been disregarding a significant portion of them completely. Of course, that was because Merlin had no idea they were his duties in the first place. Nobody had told him about them. People had assumed he already knew.
Merlin was now the highest-ranking servant in the household, a fact that Merlin had been peripherally aware of but hadn't paid particular attention to. The job came with some perks, like higher pay and people calling him Master Merlin in acknowledgment of his new position. It did, however, also come with a vast amount of responsibility.
According to Gwen, the King's manservant was supposed to be a jack of all trades sort of man. On top of his regular duties with the King, Merlin was expected to act as a sort of assistant steward, handling the pettier day-to-day problems arising among the staff and helping with the smooth running of the royal household. He was also the staff's emissary to the monarch. Apparently, Merlin needed to sound out the King's preferences regarding less important decisions, decisions the staff would never dare approach the King about. It was assumed Merlin would know what Arthur wanted, given their perpetual proximity to each other.
"Arthur doesn't tell me anything," Merlin informed Gwen when she had finished her explanations. "He just drags me along everywhere and expects me to be prepared. If I'm not, I get things thrown at me and yelled at until I get it right. It's how we've always done it."
Gwen made a thoughtful noise. "I suppose Arthur never had you trained," she mused. It made Merlin sound like one of Arthur's hounds and he scowled, which Gwen had the decency to blush at. "Sorry. I only meant that you were thrown into the thick of things completely unprepared, right from the start."
Merlin raised a you think? sort of eyebrow. "Uther simply announced I was to be Arthur's manservant and from then, it was learning by doing. Nobody explained anything to me from that point forward." He paused, then smiled. "Well, you did, of course, starting with Arthur's armour."
"And here I am again, showing you the ropes," she replied and returned his smile.
"I appreciate it," Merlin told her earnestly, then gave her a little bow. "I'd be lost without you, my lady."
Gwen swatted at him. "Stop it."
"What?" Merlin said. "Your brother is a knight, and it's only a matter of time until Arthur—"
"No," Gwen interrupted him. "Don't say it. He hasn't mentioned anything of the sort to me."
Merlin grinned. "I'll have you know, as our beloved monarch's personal attendant, I have intimate knowledge of the King's preferences."
"We just established that you don't," Gwen said drily.
"I do, where this is concerned," Merlin insisted, then softened his voice and reached out for Gwen's hand. "He absolutely adores you, Gwen. One day soon, you'll be his Queen. I might be clueless about a lot of things, but I know this much."
Gwen looked away and shrugged. "I really should get back to work," was all she said.
Merlin squeezed her hand one more time, then let her go. Gwen was already a few paces down the hallway when another thought occurred to Merlin. "Gwen, one more thing," he called after her. "Arthur mentioned some sort of meeting with the steward?"
"The weekly household convention," she called over her shoulder. "Ask Lord Wesley for details!"
Merlin did not want to ask Lord Wesley. Much like Cook Audrey, the man had never much cared for Merlin. He considered Merlin a worthless, insolent troublemaker who had no business attending to a prince. Merlin doubted that Lord Wesley's opinion of him had much improved since Arthur's coronation.
Sure enough, the steward immediately scrunched up his nose when Merlin entered his office that afternoon, looking for all in the world like Merlin was stinking up the room. He was a tall, slim man with thinning brown hair and beady eyes whose preferred facial expression seemed to be a scowl.
"Ah, Merlin," he drawled from behind his desk. "I was wondering if you'd ever show up."
"I apologise, my lord," Merlin said and gritted his teeth as he performed a perfunctory bow. He hated acting subservient to the likes of Lord Wesley. "I understand I've been missing important meetings."
"Three of them now," Lord Wesley sniffed.
"Again, I apologise," Merlin said, lacing his hands behind his back as he straightened. "May I ask when the next meeting will take place?"
"You may, I suppose," said Lord Wesley, sounding like he would by far prefer the opposite. "We meet every Wednesday, at the eighth ring of the bell. If pressing duties with the King keep you, you're expected to excuse yourself and come ask me for the details as soon as possible."
"May I ask what I have missed so far, then?" Merlin ventured.
Lord Wesley huffed. "I don't have time summarising the contents of three hour-long meetings for you, boy. Just make sure not to miss the next one."
Merlin bristled. He hadn't been a boy in quite some time. But he didn't want Lord Wesley to go complaining to Arthur again, so he schooled his features and said, "Of course, my lord. I'll make sure to attend this time." He paused. "Um, where do these meetings take place again?"
Lord Wesley let out a sigh of disapproval. "The grand chamber in the south wing. Don't be late!"
Merlin wasn't late. He was, however, completely unprepared.
When he entered the grand chamber – a sizable hall with high ceilings supported by pillars – most other members of the household convention were already there, talking amongst each other. They briefly quieted down when they saw Merlin, throwing him looks varying between curious, indifferent and disapproving, before returning to their conversations.
Merlin recognised many of the faces – Cook Audrey, the stable master, the royal carpenter, the head of the personal guard to the King, the kennel master, the first chambermaid – but there were a couple more people whose positions he should probably know after seven years, but didn't. It became exceedingly clear to Merlin in that moment how little he actually knew about the running of the royal household, in spite of having worked here for such a long time. The majority of his typical work day was filled with trailing after Arthur, which more often than not meant watching the knights train or spending hours on horseback in some godforsaken forest, far away from the castle. The rest of the time, he was busy cleaning and fetching things.
Merlin awkwardly kept to the side lines until Lord Wesley entered the grand chamber. Everyone immediately flocked to the large table at the centre of the room. Merlin hung back, watching everyone take their place, with Lord Wesley settling at the head of the table. To Merlin's surprise – and immediate discomfort – the only chair left empty was the one on the opposite side of Lord Wesley. Merlin had seen enough council meetings to know it was a prime spot, reserved for someone important. Apparently, Merlin was someone important now.
Not that Lord Wesley had got the message. "What are you waiting for, boy?" he snapped when Merlin kept lingering. "Sit down already!"
Merlin cringed, but did as he was told and walked to the end of the table. He could practically feel the other attendees watching him and pointedly kept his eyes on the steward as he sat.
On the other side, Lord Wesley was rifling through a stack of parchment, undoubtedly trying to make himself look very busy until he finally announced, "I hereby open this session of the weekly household convention. I am pleased to see we are in full attendance–" He paused to send Merlin a dark look. "– finally, one might add." He retrieved a quill from somewhere within his waistcoat and dipped it into the inkpot in front of him. "We will start with the upcoming visit of Lord Ashe. Master Rupert, are the stables prepared for the lord's entourage?"
"Aye, m'lord," said Rupert. "I've had my lads clear out some boxes and move the warhorses o'er to the outer stables for the time bein'."
"Good." Lord Wesley gave a curt nod and ticked an item off his list. "How about the rooms, Bertha? Lord Ashe is bringing Lady Ashe as well as their youngest son and two daughters."
"We've prepared adjoining rooms in the east wing, Lord Wesley," the first chambermaid dutifully informed him.
"Cook?" prompted Lord Wesley next.
"The menu is almost set, my lord," Audrey reported. She hesitated, then added, "Lady Ashe, however, appears to have an aversion to both poultry and mutton. There are only so many pigs to be slaughtered this time of year and there isn't enough cured beef to last for a whole week. I thought we could supplement with some fresh game?"
"Possibly, yes," answered Lord Wesley, noting something down on his parchment before looking up again. To Merlin's horror, the steward's eyes came to rest on Merlin.
"Well?" he prompted impatiently.
"Um," was all the response Merlin managed.
Lord Wesley stared at him as if he thought Merlin daft. "Does the King wish to hunt during Lord Ashe's stay?"
"I wouldn't know," Merlin replied helplessly. It was true, too. Arthur usually didn't tell him in advance when he wanted to shoot game, knowing Merlin would do everything he could to avoid being part of the hunting party if he did.
Lord Wesley made a derisive noise that drove heat into Merlin's cheeks. "Of course not," he scoffed.
"I believe His Majesty made mention of a hunt when he was visiting his dogs yesterday," the kennel master spoke up.
Lord Wesley gave him an approving nod. "Ah, thank you, Master Robin. At least someone here is paying attention to the King."
Merlin ducked his head at the rebuke, hiding his scowl in the process. He was doing nothing but paying attention to Arthur. He was shielding and protecting him from magical harm, taking care of his personal needs, all the while doing a squire's work because Arthur had never bothered to take on a lord's son and train him up. That was on top of helping Gaius and keeping an eye on the shady Lord Agravaine, who Merlin was convinced was up to something.
The rest of the meeting went little better. Merlin didn't know Arthur's opinion on whether or not they should find a suitable companion for Lord Ashe's young son amongst the squires; he couldn't say what the King preferred in terms of entertainment for the banquet, and he had no idea if Arthur was planning on approving the new budget so the steward could hire more hall boys in face of the current staff shortage.
"Is there anything you do know, boy?" Lord Wesley demanded after another round of helpless shrugging from Merlin. "Honestly, I don't understand what the King sees in you."
When Lord Wesley finally called an end to the meeting, Merlin's ears were burning and he couldn't meet anyone's gaze as he all but fled the room. He had never felt this useless and incompetent in his whole life.
He couldn't help but feel that this wasn't really his fault, though. Merlin hadn't known he needed to come prepared. He hadn't known he was supposed to note down Arthur's opinion on squires, jugglers or servant boys. Nobody had taught him any of this!
Arthur, however, seemed to disagree.
"Merlin!" he snapped that night, as soon as he had entered his chambers. He made a beeline for Merlin, eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why did I just have another conversation with Lord Wesley about you slacking on the job?"
Merlin straightened up from where he had been stoking the fire and threw up his hands defensively as he was approached by the King. "Arthur, I swear I went to the meeting this time!"
Arthur huffed. "Yes, though from the sounds of it, you might as well have stayed away, for all the use you were to the proceedings."
Merlin couldn't help but bristle at that, his wounded pride translating into a glare for Arthur. "I am trying my best here!"
Arthur crossed his arms. "Try harder, then! You're the King's personal manservant now. You're supposed to cover my back, not add to my troubles!"
"I cover your back all the time!" Merlin retorted. "More often than you think!"
Arthur barked a humourless laugh that immediately set Merlin's teeth on edge. "What, by hiding in the bushes whenever we're attacked on patrol and dumping half a jug of wine on my lap during dinner?"
"That isn't fair!" Merlin replied hotly. "And I haven't dumped wine on you for years – not unless you deserved it!"
Arthur raised a threatening finger and shoved it right into Merlin's face. "I've about had it with you," he growled. "For once in your life, show me a modicum of respect and at least attempt to do your job right!"
Merlin dearly would have liked to grab Arthur and shake him right then and there. "Are you joking?" he hissed. "I—"
"No," Arthur interrupted sharply. "Not a word more from you! I don't want to hear your excuses. There will be no more arguing, either. Your King expects you to do better come tomorrow." He painfully jabbed his finger into Merlin's chest. "Is that understood?"
Merlin had to take three, heaving breaths to keep himself from saying something he might later regret, all the while staring defiantly into Arthur's face. Then, he bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, addressing Arthur's boots and spitting the honorific like an insult. "Perfectly understood."
They spent the rest of the evening in tense silence.