The Once and Future Horse

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"Merlin!"

"Yes, Arthur?" the warlock answered, not bothering to look up from the vegetables he was chopping.

"I wish to have a serious discussion with you."

"I see." He tossed the carrots into the pot and started in on the broccoli. "Any particular subject you have in mind?" he asked nonchalantly, pretending he didn't know exactly what this was about.

"Yes. Merlin, we need horses."

Merlin sighed; lately Arthur had been as bad as a child in the months leading up to Christmas, worrying his parents for a pet. The big difference was that Arthur tended to demand, rather than plead or wheedle, but Merlin could forgive him for that. Arthur was in a strange position in regards to him and money. On one hand, Merlin knew his King's pride was being dealt a serious blow by having to lower himself to ask his former servant to provide something for him. On the other, however, as King, Arthur was used to demanding his Lords pony up funds whenever provisions were needed to go to war, which, as he had told Arthur himself, might be what was coming. (And Merlin was a Lord; Gwen had made him one and Merlin hadn't known whether to laugh or kick Arthur in the pants at the look on the prat's face when he'd found out.)

Still, this whole horse thing was getting old. It was not the money; even though Merlin had provided clothes, boots, coats, toiletries, sporting equipment, books, beds and bedding, not to mention purchased two good-sized SUVs and paid for an extension to the garage in order to have somewhere to put them, Merlin was extremely well off and didn't blink at the extra expense. A horse, or even nine, was well within his means. No, it was simply that he didn't see the need for them. Not to mention he wanted the Round Table to start acclimating more to this era, and horses would be a set-back in his eyes.

And, if he was honest, there was also the fact that he fully expected Arthur would eventually turn to him to take care of the animals, taking it for granted that he'd fall back into the role of the long-ago servant he'd once been, there to muck out the stables at the King's whim and provide a target for his goblet-throwing practice. Quite frankly, Merlin did not look forward to the butting of heads they'd do, but him playing the servant again was simply not going to happen.

"This is the modern era, Arthur. No one in the Western world needs a horse."

"Not now. But we must be prepared for all contingencies, Merlin. What if all of this 'technology' fails? We will be at a distinct disadvantage walking into battle against enemies who are ahorse."

"I'm sure that even if computerized or electrical technology fails, or for some reason becomes inoperable, constructing cars and tanks that work on simple mechanics will likely be within the scope of some engineer."

"Do we have a tank? Or an engineer?"

"Not as yet, but should we need them, it will help not to waste our money on horses."

"But what if petroleum sources are scarce or shut down? How will fields get ploughed to feed the people without a horse if there's no fuel for those tractor-things?"

"I could turn you into a horse, if that would solve the problem," Merlin replied, privately cursing. Sure, when it comes to nearly everything else in the modern world, the clotpole can't tell his arse from a hole in the ground, but let it be an argument that's convenient for him, and his brain latches onto it like a limpet.

"Merlin!"

Merlin sighed again and finally deigned to stop his chopping and look at Arthur. Truth was, he was close to relenting. Arthur was going through a rather severe bout of culture shock and if a horse could help him in any way, it might be worth it. Besides, the Knights could use another outlet for their energy (swimming had not gone well after the pool manager had tried to force Gwaine and Leon to wear bathing caps), and if they took turns exercising the beast, it might aid all of them.

And, Merlin had to admit to himself, Arthur would look more kingly on a horse. The warlock knew enough of the modern world to realize that image was a useful tool and, unless he produced some sort of specialized lighting to frame Arthur like a halo or magically provided some "hero-wind" to blow the prat's hair back, without a horse Arthur would merely look like some ordinary nutter in armour raving that he was King.

"Oh, very well then," Merlin agreed and went back to cutting his vegetables. "I warn you though," Merlin snapped, turning once again to face Arthur and waving his knife around in front of the King's face, "It'll be your job to look after it. It'll have to be boarded over at Fletcher's stables - "

"That's four miles away!"

"The walk will do you good. And you'll go every day and clean out the stall, and make sure the horse has food and water, and brush him, and take care of your own tack - "

"Merlin, don't be ridiculous! That's your…" Arthur backtracked abruptly at the sight of Merlin's dangerously raised eyebrow. "I mean, aren't there people we can hire for that sort of thing?"

"You're already wanting me to pay for a horse, now you want me to hire you a private stable boy?"

Arthur bristled and for a moment their good-natured spat was on the verge of turning ugly. Merlin knew his King didn't like to be reminded of the reality of his new situation, nor of having to ask for things in general, and so he nearly smiled when Arthur maturely bit back what he was going to say and re-framed his argument. "In that case, surely the horse could stay here? You have the property for it."

"I suppose I could check the zoning regulations."

Arthur had no idea of knowing what exactly this meant, but he could tell it meant Merlin had given in. The dollop-head slapped him heartily on the back, nearly causing him to lop off a finger, and laughed. "I knew you'd see it my way!"

Merlin muttered darkly about smug, supercilious gits as Arthur strode out of the kitchen, and nearly committed regicide when Arthur was back not more than twenty seconds later asking, "Now, what about hounds?"

"Arthur!"

"Well, you've got that evil, flea-bitten moggy! Why can't we have a hound or two for hunting?"

"No!"

"Can we at least get rid of the cat?"

"Arthur, I've had Gogmagog for nearly sixty years!"

"Really?" Arthur was astounded. "Isn't that remarkably long-lived for a cat?"

"He's not a normal cat. He's my familiar."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he's not bloody leaving, you oik!"

"Fine, fine. The cat can stay."

Merlin glared at Arthur with a face like thunder.

"I mean, of course the cat is staying. This is your house, after all," Arthur conceded quickly, though Merlin suspected it was more in the realization that he was in danger of losing his horse than any survival instinct kicking in. "And no hounds. We'll just get some horses."

"A horse," Merlin corrected.

"A horse," Arthur agreed, a little put out. "Fine. But just make sure it's a horse fit for my station. A fine, regal beast. And check his teeth. And his joints. And watch how he comes out of the stable - is he eager or fearful? And look into his eyes. Father's head groomsman always said - "

"I have look for this horse as well?"

"Of course. A King doesn't stock his own stables - "

"My stables."

"Yes, well, you know where to look for things these days, don't you? I mean, I wouldn't even know where to begin, and, as you said, you're paying for it so it would only make sense… Merlin, you have this look on your face…"

"What look is that, Arthur?"

"Perhaps I'll just leave you to your supper preparations then, shall I?" the King said, starting to back away.

"Oh, that's an extremely good idea, my Lord," Merlin growled.

-x-

After some argument as to whether to get the modern equivalent of a palfrey (an every day riding horse) or a courser (bred more for heavy combat), the group consensus was to split the difference and look for a modern breed close to a destrier. A little bit of research lead Merlin to decide on a Percheron, which not only fit the requirements, but was also available close by.

"And remember, Merlin, something regal," Arthur called out of the window as Merlin was about to drive off. "It has to be impressive, something fit for a King."

"In that case, I'm coming back with a jackass," Merlin yelled back. He sped away before he could hear Arthur's reply.

-x-

When Merlin came back, followed by a man driving a truck with an attached horse trailer, all the household came out to see what kind of horse he had found.

Once the horse - a breathtaking dappled grey just over seventeen hands at the withers - had been lead out of the trailer and the man from the stables had taken his generous tip and driven off, everyone came closer to examine the animal and there were mutters of approval when the horse didn't spook, but only lifted his head proudly.

"He's a wonderful animal, Merlin," Gwen said.

"Very fine, indeed," Leon agreed as he ran his hand along the horse's back. "Excellent musculature and a marvellous coat."

"You made a good choice, Merlin," Arthur condescended to admit.

"Thank you, Sire. The minute I heard his name, I knew he was the horse for you."

"He has a name already then?" Arthur asked, a little disappointed.

"Indeed, Sire."

"Is it suitable?"

"Oh, very, Sire."

"Well, what is it, idiot?"

"Arthur!" Gwen remonstrated. "Be nice. Merlin went to an extreme amount of trouble to get you this horse."

Arthur grimaced, but nodded graciously. "I am truly very thankful, Merlin."

"You're welcome, Arthur."

"So what's the animal's name?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin's mouth twitched. He lifted a hand and gestured importantly at the horse. "Everyone, meet Arthur."

Arthur stared at Merlin. Merlin looked at Arthur.

"You know, after the famous King," Merlin added.

Then Gwaine snorted and that was the signal, everyone but the Arthurs, horse and man, started shrieking with laughter. Even Lancelot soon had tears nearly running down his cheeks.

"MERLIN!"

"Well, you have to admit it is a very… regal… name, Arthur," Gaius said, setting everyone off into another round of guffaws.

Gwaine pet the horse's muzzle. "Arthur the King, Arthur the horse - I'm sure we'll be able to tell you apart. Most of the time, at any rate."

"This horse cannot be called Arthur!" Arthur insisted.

"Perhaps we could call him 'Arthur Junior' instead?" Merlin suggested.

"What? As if he's my son?!" Arthur demanded indignantly.

"All right then, how about 'Little Arthur'? Or maybe 'Big Arthur' since he's much larger than you, after all," Merlin went on.

"No, no and NO!" Arthur shouted. "We'll just have to rename him."

"But then he'll get confused," Merlin argued.

"Then you'll have to take him back and get a horse with a proper name."

Merlin pouted. "Oh, poor Horse-Arthur! He'll feel so rejected!"

"We can't have two Arthurs," Arthur ground out between gritted teeth, glowering at Merlin. "You have to choose."

"Well, the horse is quieter and less demanding…" Merlin began.

"MERLIN!"

"And he doesn't eat nearly as much…"

"Pay no attention to nasty Man-Arthur," Gwaine consoled the horse, still stroking his muzzle. "You're a good boy, Arthur. We'll get you some lovely, lovely apples! Yes we will!"

The King roared. Leon sighed and lead the horse off to its brand new shed as the Once and Future King chased his former servant around the garden. Everyone else went in for lunch.

That night, the King decided to name his horse 'Alan'. No one understood why Merlin nearly wet himself laughing.

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Author's note:

Thought you could use a bit of humour after the last chapter. (Though I was surprised no one mentioned what famous role Aithusa ended up fulfilling!) Anyway, if 'Alan' doesn't seem like that funny of a name for a royal horse to you all by itself, there is another reason why I chose it, which I hope to get to in another chapter.

Thanks again to all of my readers and I hope you enjoyed reading this!