Notes: Ever since reading Trust Funds by M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng, I have become obsessed with the idea of Arthur, Merlin and theft. You definitely should read M1ssUnd3rst4nd1ng's fic if you haven't, because it's 100% been a blatantly obvious inspiration for this fic! Freaking love that story!
Loosely set somewhere between season 2 and 3 when Morgana was missing. Hope you enjoy! Cross-posted to Ao3.
Arthur collected clue number one on a cold and damp late autumn morning in the Darkling Woods.
Though it had to be hours past dawn now, the sun was nowhere to be seen as heavy fog lingered above the trees. Every other minute or so, a cold gust of wind would send brown leaves flying, and the faintest drizzle covered everything in tiny droplets of water.
It was a distinctly uncomfortable day for riding patrol, but it still needed to be done. Bandits had been springing up everywhere, trying to find a place to settle for the coming winter, occupying caves and ruins near the city.
Arthur buried himself deeper in his red cape, glad he had donned the lambskin gloves this morning. A glance at the muffled-up knights behind him told Arthur everyone else had come prepared as well. Sir Lionel's boots were lined with rabbit fur, Sir Lucan had a scarf wrapped around his neck and Sir Bors had put on a helmet to hide the fact that he was also wearing a wool hat. Everyone had anticipated the day to be cold and dreary.
Everyone except, apparently, for Arthur's idiotic manservant. Merlin was riding on his horse next to Arthur, shivering and trembling because he was wearing that ridiculous brown jacket. The one he kept wearing year-round, be it the middle of summer or winter. The one even Arthur, eventually, had recognised as being less than serviceable and therefore had aimed to replace.
"Merlin," Arthur said. "Why aren't you wearing your cloak?"
Merlin kept his eyes on the road in front of them. Only a vague murmur of "Cloak, sire?" made it known that he was actually listening.
It was the kind of casual disrespect only Merlin dared to show the Prince. Over the course of two years, Arthur had grown a strange appreciation for his manservant's insolence. Still, that didn't mean Arthur couldn't find himself annoyed by it. He chanced another look back at his men. Sir Lucan seemed to be watching them, but he didn't appear openly disapproving. Most of the knights had got used to Merlin riding by Arthur's side and behaving improperly while doing so.
"As you might remember," Arthur continued, allowing impatience to colour his voice, "I generously gifted you, my humble manservant, with a blue, fur-lined cloak. Where is it?"
Merlin shrugged, though the motion was barely distinguishable from his shivering. "I didn't bring it."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Did you lose it?"
Merlin glanced at him sideways. It made him look guilty, even as he said, "No, of course not."
In spite of the shifty look, Arthur was inclined to believe him. Simple incompetence suited Merlin better than a lie. "Then why, in the gods' name, aren't you wearing it?"
"I couldn't find it," Merlin replied.
"Then make an effort to relocate it!" Arthur retorted. "It's freezing. You're freezing."
"I'll manage," Merlin said, before his teeth started chattering.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You're impossible," he said. "You're going to catch another cold and then I will have to suffer through your sniffling and coughing whenever you're in my rooms."
"I apologise in advance, my lord," Merlin replied drily. Then sniffled.
"Merlin," Arthur said, this time with an edge of authority. "Next time, you will bring that cloak, do you hear me? I insist. I will leave you behind if you don't."
Finally, Merlin turned his head to look straight at him. He grinned. "Promise?"
Arthur groaned, but let the topic go and had soon pushed the conversation to the back of his mind. That was, until he realised that it had been, as mentioned before, the first clue.
Arthur collected the second clue but a few days later.
The week had been a busy one. Between the aforementioned patrols, a string of feasts and court events, and a fever outbreak in the lower town, Arthur knew Merlin had been running himself ragged.
Merlin tended to believe Arthur wasn't paying attention to his manservant's workload, but the Prince wasn't actually all that oblivious or uncaring. He gave Merlin time off if he needed it. He simply didn't make a big deal of it, presenting it as happenstance rather than a generous concession.
As it looked, Merlin needed more rest than a good night's sleep could provide, that much was apparent from the shadows under his eyes and continuing sniffling from the cold he had caught, as predicted by Arthur.
It therefore came to Arthur's complete surprise when he crossed the main square, on the very afternoon he had given Merlin off, and spotted him loading boxes onto a cart. The activity itself was already unusual. A royal manservant was not actually required to do heavy lifting unless explicitly ordered to by the royal he served. Arthur certainly hadn't given any such orders.
"Merlin," he called out and approached the cart.
Merlin threw him a quick look, then made an unsuccessful attempt at hiding behind the box he was lifting. It looked heavy, far too heavy to be heaved by Merlin's twiggy little wrists.
Arthur stepped around the box and blinked at Merlin. Merlin blinked back.
"Sire?" he said. "Did you need something?"
"No," Arthur replied and crossed his arms. "Which is exactly why I gave you half the day off."
"Good," said Merlin and lifted the box onto the cart. Again, his blue cloak was nowhere to be seen and he was shivering.
"Why are you doing this?" Arthur asked suspiciously. "Is this for Gaius?"
"No. It's for Master Mave," Merlin replied, then sniffed and ran his sleeve over his reddened nose.
Arthur frowned. Merlin, working for the Master of Storage and Supplies? "Why would he ask you to do his heavy lifting? We have other men for that. Men with actual muscles."
Merlin had already wrapped his skinny arms around the next box. "I volunteered, if you must know. It needs to be done and people are busy. Now, if you don't have need of me, I'd like to get this finished."
"Right," said Arthur and watched Merlin, somehow, find the strength to lift the very heavy-looking box up, though his eyes were squeezed shut as he did so and he coughed into his elbow a moment later.
For a moment, Arthur considered ordering Merlin to stop, but then he turned away. If Merlin wanted to spend his free time helping other people out, it wasn't Arthur's job to stop him. But it was strange all the same, especially as Merlin was sick. It was also, as already mentioned, the second clue.
The third clue presented itself at the market but one day later. Arthur was walking the perimeters of the lower town, guards in tow. It was a thing done for appearance's sake rather than in anticipation of any real threat. The people liked to see that the Crown cared, that the city was kept safe. Usually, sending any knight along with the guards was enough, but every once in a while, it didn't hurt to have the Prince himself do his part and show his face.
Which was how Arthur spotted Merlin. In spite of the cold temperatures, he was still not wearing his warm cloak and his nose and ears had once more turned bright red. He was talking agitatedly to a merchant manning a stall. Arthur gestured at the guards to continue on their usual route while he stepped out of the formation to approach Merlin. He might not have done so if Merlin hadn't looked so upset. He was raising his voice, too, something the servant didn't tend to do, especially not with people that weren't Arthur.
"... three silvers a piece last time! I'm not a bloody fool, Lunden!"
"Prices change all the time, lad," argued the merchant, a thick-set, balding man. "It's the way of things. One silver a piece, take it or leave it!"
Arthur came to a halt by the stall and cleared his throat. The merchant's eyes widened in recognition, then he promptly ducked his head, muttering some honorific or the other.
Merlin, in contrast, glared at Arthur and crossed his arms. "What on Earth are you doing here? Are you spying on me?" he snapped.
"Watch your attitude," Arthur admonished him. Merlin didn't tend to bite at Arthur quite so quickly in such a public place, which meant whatever had him upset, it was serious. "What is going on here?"
Merlin uncrossed his arms. "Sorry, sire," he said, though his voice was still tense. "It's nothing."
Arthur's eyes shifted to the merchant. "Lunden, correct?" The man nodded, looking nervous. "Everything in order?"
"Of course, Your Highness." Lunden glanced at Merlin and licked his lips. "Just some heated haggling. Nothing to concern the Prince with."
"What were you haggling over?" Arthur asked. For the first time, he realised Merlin was clutching a bag, though its contents were hidden from view. Arthur eyed Lunden's wares. From the looks of it, he was selling dried herbs, spices and other ingredients.
"Merlin here tends to sell me things he collects in the forest," Lunden explained. "Mushrooms, roots, and the likes."
"I see," said Arthur.
"We were disagreeing on the price, nothing more, Your Highness," Lunden continued.
Arthur had no grounds on which to question the merchant's honesty, were it not for Merlin's tense face and averted eyes. Something was going on. "Is that right, Merlin?" he prodded.
Lunden stiffened and went pale about the nose, as if fearing Merlin would use his connections to the Prince to get the merchant into trouble over an unsuccessful barter. Of course, Merlin would never do such a thing. In all their time together, Merlin had only ever used his proximity to Arthur to help people.
Merlin proved him right by saying, "It's as he says, Arthur, please don't worry about it."
It was a polite brush-off. Merlin didn't want Arthur to interfere and as it seemed, there was no real reason to do so, either. Already, they were drawing attention, curious eyes flickering to see what the Prince might have to discuss in the market. Arthur should catch up with the guards, at any rate.
"Stop dawdling, then. I'll expect my lunch to be served on time," he told Merlin as way of goodbye, nodded at Lunden and was off.
But the scene didn't sit right with him and as it turned out, it was because it was the third clue.
Three clues, in the matter of a week, that something strange was going on with Merlin. Still, Arthur didn't connect the dots, didn't realise all of these things were correlated, until the Incident.