So, so, so many thank-yous to everyone who took the time to review the first two chapters. I'm glad this out-of-the-ordinary fic is so well-accepted...and yes, as many of you have pointed out, feline!Merlin is unlawfully adorable, isn't he? I know it would probably be a silly storyline, but I think it'd be brilliant if they changed him into an animal for just half of an episode (or even Arthur...I bet he'd make a fun cat, too, all blonde and headstrong and attracted to anything shiny).
Anyways, I hope you like this chapter, and there's more to come soon, both in this story and in others I'm planning. (And I'm in the process of writing a more major fic, too, so yeah...no worries about me dropping out of this fandom anytime soon...*hehe*)
Chapter 3
Arthur was just greeting a curtsying maidservant good-morning when he happened to spot a ball of white-gray fur carefully trotting up the stone stairs behind him, the small creature taking them one by one and concentrating upon every step so as not to tumble all the way back down.
Trying not to be impressed with his former manservant' frankly improbable abilities to escape any hold and/or direct order, Arthur sighed heavily and went back down the stairs to meet the little creature half-way.
"Do you ever do as you're told, Merlin?"
His only response was an answering meow, but he had the feeling he knew how to accurately interpret it.
"Right. Well, in case you didn't know, I have better things to do than to keep up with you all day."
Merlin mewled unhappily as Arthur grasped him by the back of his neck and lifted him off the stairs, his sky eyes meeting the king's sapphire ones evenly and one paw coming out to caress the man's nose.
Arthur shook off his touch disgruntledly and wondered how it was that, even in this form, Merlin still knew exactly how to irritate him.
Merlin made a little noise of vexation, his back legs kicking out in a bout of defiance; Arthur tightened his hold on the back of Merlin's neck so that there was no danger of his getting away.
"Don't look at me like that. You're the one being annoying."
Merlin grunted again, a soft, childlike grunt, and Arthur raised one eyebrow at him before turning and retracing his steps back toward the physician's chambers.
"I'm sorry to say this, sire, but I really don't think leaving him here will do any good."
Arthur regarded Merlin with a dark look as he took in Gaius' wise words; the little cat replied was, without a care, flipping onto his back and wrestling distractedly with a small pouch of seeds into which he had, at some point, hooked his claws.
"Apparently," Gaius continued intelligently, "Merlin's mind still recognizes you as his master. His instincts draw him to you out of loyalty."
"Wonderful," Arthur grumbled; never before had he had reason to dislike Merlin's undeserved loyalties to him, but for once, he was actually wishing the other man could do this one thing, at least, in moderation.
"I'm afraid if you leave him, he'll only get out again, your majesty," the physician pointed out.
Arthur, freely admitting to himself it was done out of adolescent spite, swiped the bag of seeds away from Merlin just as the cat had triumphantly torn a hole into the side of the pouch; typically, his efforts merely backfired when the feline assumed it was a game, and playfully dove for his hands.
Call it a moment of weakness, but when cat-Merlin then looked up at Arthur with big, bright, adoring eyes, Arthur could not stop himself from thinking, momentarily, that this variant of his inane manservant was more stupidly adorable than the usual one.
He shook his head to clear it of these utterly ridiculous thoughts.
"Very well," he sighed. "I suppose I have no other choice, then. I'll take him with me."
"Very well, sire," the physician said trustingly.
Arthur scooped Merlin into one arm as though he were a sack of undesirable potatoes. As was becoming something of a habit, the cat purred and nuzzled his shoulder lovingly.
"And Arthur—"
The king turned back at the sound of Gaius' voice.
"—good luck to you."
He grimaced and struggled to keep his present thoughts toward his annoying manservant at bay in his mind.
"Merlin, would you stop it please?"
The feline in question, who had just succeeded in knocking over the very last piece of armor in Arthur's chambers still standing, froze from where he was climbing in exploration of the small table against the wall in between two windows. His huge ears perked up, eyes growing bright from where he had been peering over the edge of said table at the momentarily noisy helmet now lying silently on the floor.
Arthur groaned outwardly as his small-minded manservant came frolicking around the corner, hearing only his name in his beloved master's voice and uncomprehending—or perhaps simply uncaring—of the fact that he spoke in barely-contained annoyance.
Arthur watched with unhappy eyes as Merlin leapt up, claws piercing through the knee of his tan trousers before he hopped up onto the top of the writing-desk at which the king sat.
He raised one eyebrow as Merlin sat on the tabletop just beside the parchment upon which he was attempting (and pitifully failing) to write a speech. He narrowed his eyes at the cat. Merlin mimicked him. He sighed, and then Merlin proceeded to follow his movements distractedly as the king reached out and dipped the end of his quill into the container of ink at his right.
Arthur knew the breathless moments of peace were doomed to be ruined, and his suspicions were confirmed when Merlin became captured by the black liquid dripping from the end of the quill; his eyes flickered back to the small bowl from which the drop had come, and then he moved toward it so eagerly that the tip of his nose ended up coated by the sticky, black liquid.
"Merlin!"
The feline confusedly shook his head in an attempt to throw the uncomfortable mess off, but it was Arthur's grabbing him and brushing the sleeve of his shirt across the end of his nose that removed it entirely.
"You're cleaning this tomorrow," the king told him, holding the quick-drying stain of black on his red sleeve up for plain viewing.
"Mrouw," was his only answer, and then, of course, Merlin was purring again and nuzzling his ear against Arthur's hand.
In was in that moment that Arthur, though not, by any means, an expert on cats or any other animal that did not involving hunting, remembered when he had been a child, and Morgana had found a wounded kitten in the street. He recalled how she had cared for it—but more importantly, he recalled that in her care, the kitten never caused a problem in its contentment of warm milk to drink and a soft toy with which to play.
"Are you thirsty?"
Merlin did not bother replying, but only rubbed his side all the way down to the tip of his tail against the palm of Arthur's hand.
"Maybe it'll distract you, at least."
Merlin, displeased when Arthur stood and left him sitting in the desk, followed his king to the door of his chambers as he opened it and called out to the young manservant making his way down the hall with an armful of freshly-washed curtains.
"You, there!"
The servant turned in instant obedience of the king's beckoning.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Fetch me a bowl of milk from the kitchens, if you would."
"A…bowl of milk, sire?"
Arthur ignored the tone.
"Yes. Warm milk, preferably, or at least as warm as you can get it."
A crash from somewhere behind him made Arthur wince.
"Quickly, please."
The manservant tilted his head the littlest bit in a vain attempt to peer into the room over the king's shoulder, but then replied, completely monotone (because though he had not been working in the castle for very long, he had learnt quickly that it was certainly a place of peculiarities and new adventures every day).
"As you wish, my lord."
When Arthur shut the door and turned around again, he saw Merlin entangled in an aggressive battle with a piece of thread dangling from Arthur's bed-cover; apparently, he was winning, if the unseemly rips marking the whole corner of the expensive fabric were anything to go by.
"Merlin."
To be continued
Next chapter's a little longer, so stick around.
And review!