Things That Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do (According to Prince Arthur)
10: Refuse Gifts From the Prince of Camelot
Odd, Merlin thinks as he makes Arthur's bed that morning, I don't recognize that blanket. Arthur has got quite a few of them: fluffy, red, silvery, silky, thick, thin, black, white, striped. Merlin recognizes them all. But he's never seen this one before. It's a deep red colour with golden stitches and the Pendragon insignia on top, and it looks really soft and thick and completely new, and Merlin can't help himself and reaches out to carefully touch it where it lies neatly folded by the foot of the bed.
"Arthur, do you want this one on the bed too or should I put it in the cabinet?"
"Hm?" The prince looks up from his desk where he's doing some paperwork. His eyes light up as they fall on the fabric in the servant's hands. "No, you can take it."
Merlin blinks in confusion. "I didn't ask about me taking it anywhere…you mean the cabinet?"
"I mean, it's for you. You can keep it." Arthur sounds a bit self-conscious, almost like anxious.
Realization dawns on Merlin, his eyes widening, and he runs a hand over the fabric. It's wonderful and soft and probably very warm, and his heart beats a bit faster at the thought that it's been given to him by the prince. "Really?"
"Yes, well," Arthur says uncomfortably, starting to sort through his papers very busily. "Can't have my servant catching a cold."
Merlin presses the blanket close to his chest as he says thank you but Arthur just waves his hand, and it's awkwardly silent as they both go about their duties.
()()()
It's a very nice blanket, Merlin thinks as he wakes up the next morning, all warm and nice, and cuddles deeper into the folds of the fabric. It's got two layers and keeps the heat well. For once his feet don't feel like ice. He sighs. Mm. Just five more minutes…
He wakes up more than five minutes later. Gaius isn't there, only a bowl of cold porridge awaits him on the table and Merlin dashes into his clothes, out of the room and through the corridors.
When Arthur is greeted the smell of breakfast he isn't impressed. "You're late," he states brilliantly. "By two hours, in fact." He's dressed already, and working on some important letters he should have yesterday but didn't because he was distracted by watching/thinking about Merlin. Not that he'll ever admit such a thing.
Merlin looks sheepish. "Sorry. It's that blanket, it was so comfortable I fell asleep again." Arthur frown a little and Merlin mistakes the look for one of very much displeasure, and hurriedly adds, "You could have it back, you know, so I get here on time." Though he's not so keen on giving it back, not really, when it's so soft and nice and warm.
At once Arthur raises his hands in a No! Stop!-motion. "No! Keep it. I'm serious. It's yours."
Merlin grins. "So, I'm pardoned if I'm late from now on?"
"Nope." Merlin's smile falls. Arthur smirks and gives him a list of duties: "You can start by scrubbing the floors, then my chainmail needs polishing…"
()()()
Arthur's acting so strange, Merlin thinks, because it's been a very odd week. Arthur is still a prat on the ordering part: always 'Merlin do this' and 'Merlin do that' instead of asking for things. Though he hasn't had to muck out the stables a single time, or go hunting, or walk the those ferocious wild dogs, but that might just be luck.
Then, there are the gifts.
After fetching dinner for the prince, he found a cloak in the same position as the blanket the day before. Arthur told him in passing-by that it was an old thing he didn't want any more, Merlin could keep it if he wanted, Arthur didn't care - but when Merlin picked it up he noticed it felt and smelled fresh and new and there was no sign it ever had been worn before.
After that it's a book, but not on etiquette. "It's a good story, you should read it. If you can read. You do know how to read, right?" Arthur had said as Merlin found it hiding beneath one of the fluffy pillows, and Merlin had nodded, scanning the cover; it was a tale about a knight and a princess and there was a dragon in the corner. "Yeah, I can read," he'd said and Arthur had replied "Good," sounding very accomplished, and left the room before Merlin could ask why he'd given him it.
By the end of the week Merlin is both happy and very puzzled. The gifts aren't like the letter Percival had sent him, there are no words explaining why he receives them. And Arthur doesn't look at him extra or anything. He'd even given him a book without being sure that Merlin actually could read. And though he's grateful and all, he's not sure if he should accept the gifts. Like the morning when he's presented with a pair of new boots, a pair of trousers and two tunics and this time Arthur can't deny it's all new and the fabric fine and silky – it feels weird to wear them at first, they're too comfortable. And it feels somewhat wrong to accept fine things like that...like he can't possibly deserve them.
Merlin can't figure out why Arthur suddenly is so full of giving. Some things he hasn't real use for; like the book, he doesn't really need that…He's not done anything special lately to deserve gifts, what he can remember.
"Arthur, can I ask something?" he says the following morning of a night full of pondering and thinking. The prince nods absently. "Why have you given me all those things?"
"Oh. Umm. Well," Arthur says looking up and he hesitates, before leaning back in the chair and deciding to be quite honest. "Because you need them … and because I want to give them to you."
Merlin's brow knits. "I'm pretty sure it's not Yuletide or my birthday or anything…"
"You idiot," the prince says affectionately and stands up, smiling slightly, and walks up to him putting a hand on the servant's shoulders. "I wanted to give you gifts because you deserve them. You've done a lot for me, you know. Saving my life, for example. I'm not … I'm not blind, I can see you don't have much …"
"Oh," the warlock says, his neck suddenly growing hot. Then, after a second, the glow in his chest – Arthur really cares for him – is replaced by some embarrassment and even anger. "But I'm not a charity case, Arthur! If you're giving me stuff just because, I don't know, you feel pity then I don't want them!"
"You're not a charity case," Arthur says heatedly, hurriedly, sincerely; "You mean a lot to me Merlin. And I want to…thank you."
Merlin breathes out like in relief. "It's all right then. But, you really didn't have to."
The prince's eyes narrows. "You're not giving them back."
"But-"
"Merlin, one more word and I'll have you mucking out the royal stables."
Merlin hurries to nod and agree that he'll keep the gifts, and holds the latest one he's just found on one of the pillows on the prince's bed, a ring with the Pendragon insignia on a chain, close to his chest. "Thank you, Arthur. It's very sweet of you."
The prince looks embarrased and shuffles his feet and waves him away, Merlin smiling at him. When later asked, Arthur will just hum and not answer why he's practically skipping down the halls.