A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.
Happy new year guys!
College has been mental since I went back a few weeks ago, lots of deadlines and coursework to do. I also have been back and forth with this chapter and the next one. It's a little shorter than most, mainly because I wrote it with two scenes and now it only has one, for pacing reasons.
Arthur smiled to himself when Merlin entered the room carrying a pitcher of wine, and glanced him up and down to see how he was faring. He'd starting to put weight back on, his slender build now slender again, rather than bony and gaunt as had been, he seemed to be recovering; but his gaze was still distant and lost. He glanced up at Arthur, and returned his smile in an obvious attempt to ease the king's worries. The smile wasn't a Merlin smile though. It didn't reach his eyes and light up a room, instead seeming to be more of a mask than genuine happiness. He'd all but stopped using the phrase 'I'm fine' as of late, as many people he'd spoken to had become unconvinced of its sincerity.
He moved around the room, weaving in between the nobles, gently pouring small amounts of wine into everyone's waiting cups, but he was a lot slower and more methodical than usual. Merlin would not make a fool of himself in front of these people, instead he'd prove to everyone he was no longer an invalid, that he could indeed still stand around and pour wine. His shoulder was beginning to ache and twinge though, but he bit his lip and made sure to transfer more weight to his good shoulder, unwilling to bring any attention to his ailment.
"Gentlemen, let's keep this short and sweet, shall we?" As much as he tried not to, Arthur's glance landed on Merlin, unintentionally directing his comment to the manservant, who responded with a scowl and a look. "We've all got our lives to be getting on with, and there is not much of note to discuss today." He tried to cover up his error, not wanting Merlin to feel like he was being babied again, but the warlock's stare was drawn away from the king, and his mouth was upturned into a frown.
Arthur rose from him seat and planted the documents on the table in front of him, ready to begin the arduous subject of discussing the papers he'd signed. He sincerely hoped the meeting wouldn't last too long, he felt this moment would be the best to get Merlin to cooperate, when he felt useful and needed and back to a normal job, when another also stood. The man, in one movement, had made himself the centre of attention within the room and turned his nose up at everyone else; arrogance reeking off him.
"My lord," he began unapologetically, even though he'd practically interrupted the king, "before we begin discussing council matters, I would speak on a subject most pressing." Both Arthur and Merlin noticed the confidence he seemed to be emanating, even more so than usual. Something was about to happen. Something very not good.
"Yes, Lord Arrington?" Arthur breathed through a false smile. He wanted to end the meeting as soon as possible and get onto more important things, like his talk with Merlin; even if he had to lock the pair in a room together, and Arrington had a history of going on and on at length about nonsense subjects, rambling away in his own little world.
"I am concerned for you, your majesty." His smirk laced with false concern set Merlin on alert, eyeing the noble warily. He'd never cared for Arrington, finding the man rude and overbearing, but now there was something more to it, a scheming look in his eyes he'd not seen before.
"For me?" Arthur squinted, taken aback at the lord's forward manner. "May I ask why? My health has never been better, ask Gaius if you must." He too did not trust the sneaky noble, especially since their disagreement about Merlin the month before, but the king made sure his manner was steadier than it had been in their last meeting, in which Arthur had let his emotions overrun him and almost caused an outburst.
"Not for your health, sire, but for the lack of discipline you appear to be showing towards the household staff." Arthur found his demeanour immediately slipping. At best, Arrington was about to lecture the king on the state of the halls' floors, which would be unwise and unusual at a council meeting. At worst, this was about Merlin, and Arrington could throw any number of accusations at him as of late, people were already beginning gossip.
How Arthur wished he could just wipe the sneer from Arrington's smug face.
"My staff?" Instead he raised an enquiring eyebrow towards Arrington, daring him to continue. Arthur was worried that the latter would be true, that he'd be talking about the one person who really, really did not need this, not with the way he was at moment.
"They seem to think they can dally as they like." Arrington's eyes darted over to Merlin, and his comment was followed by an accusatory finger pointed towards the servant. "In fact, I saw your servant practically skiving his duties all this last week. Apparently, he's been delegating his duties as he sees fit, and when he does bother to attend to his chores, they've been done dreadfully." He tutted, and Merlin could feel all the attention in the room being diverted towards him. He gripped hold of the wine jug until his knuckles were white, intent on casting his gaze anywhere but at the pontificating noble. "If he is no longer fit as a servant, perhaps he should be fired, and a more attentive replacement found. Or at least whipped for his apathy. That is how we deal with the idle and unwilling, sire." The last word more mockery than deference.
Merlin had begun to feel dizzy, and he could feel the entire room looking at him, judging him, and it made him want to run and hide, away from the prying eyes, but every muscle in his body was tensed, setting him on edge. Why would Arrington say those things about him? Was it so noticeable that he hadn't been working as much recently? He'd been trying his best, pushing himself to get the work done even though it was tough, but what if it wasn't enough? What if he couldn't ever be back to the way he was? Thoughts had begun spiralling through his head, cascading into panic.
"Lord Arrington, are you questioning my judgement?" Arthur was trying his best to keep a calm façade, though inside he was burning with anger. How dare he do this. Merlin had been through so much as of late, and a hell of a lot more beforehand, and this man was trying to make him seem imbecilic. "Do you believe I lack the capabilities to determine how I deal with my servants? Because I believe that that is known as treason." At the mention of a treason charge, Arrington blanched, but continued his verbal assault.
"My lord, forgive my impertinence," he grovelingly sneered, the least sincere apology either of them had ever seen, "I merely wish to imply that you have had this boy in your possession for several years now," Arthur should've punched him just for referring to Merlin as being owned, "and you may have, I don't know… grown accustomed to having him around. His constant presence is blinding you to his lack of capacity as a servant."
"Blinded?" Arthur spluttered, "Lord Arrington, may I remind you who you are talk-"
"Well sire, I mean actually, what use is he if he's no doubt sleeping off a hangover somewhere instead of properly attending you?" His tactic of blustering through the conversation was beginning to work, because whilst it wasn't changing Arthur's mind on the situation one bit, some of the nobles had begun nodded their heads and murmuring to each other.
As well as the other lords, he'd also begun to affect Merlin, whose chest was tightening. Arrington was telling the truth, and everyone had to know that. They were all looking at him like an injured mule for god's sake, of course it was the truth. He still couldn't properly work due to his injury, and the random moments of dizziness and panic he was experiencing from time to time weren't helping.
"The boy should not be shirking his duties!" A fellow councilman exclaimed, one of Arrington's cronies Arthur and another he would greatly like to see the back of. "He should be made an example of, lest others believe they too can swan around the castle doing little to no work."
"King Uther would've had him dutifully punished." Another chimed in, a man eager for any mention of 'the glory days' when Uther was in charge and people lived their lives more in fear than in ease.
"That's enough." Arthur spoke up, but fell on deaf ears as others clamoured to denounce Merlin, some continually mentioning how it would've been in Uther's days.
"I… I…" Merlin couldn't find any words to hit back at the drone coming from the council, his mind too abuzz with panic and the overwhelming sense of insecurity and inadequacy. "I…" He squeezed his eyes shut. He was fine, he was alright, they didn't mean-
Told you boy. You have nothing.
His hands unwillingly let go of the porcelain wine jug. It crashed to the floor with a piercing smash, tiny shards scattering themselves all over the polished floor, now dripping with the red liquid that had begun pooling around him. He glanced at the mess surrounding his feet, then up at the peers glaring at him, a hateful menace radiating from them, and finally at Arthur, whose expression could only be described as perplexed pity. Mumbling something of an apology, he darted for the doors, unable to stay in the room a moment longer.
Part of Arthur had wanted to dart off after Merlin, to chase him down and make sure the harsh words hadn't gotten to him, but instead he stayed seated at the council, determined to stand up to these men once and for all. He'd finally had enough of their bigoted and antiquated ways, and he was going to start with the ringleader.
"Silence every one of you." The loudness and ferocity of his voice this time commanded they cease with their noise. "This is not what the council is for, and my servants and their efforts are my business alone. I will not stand here and be lectured on the etiquette of the people I choose to employ. I have faith in the people I choose to surround myself with, and after today, I must and will reconsider many of them. Not another word from any of you, unless it's on city matters or grain figures." A stillness descended on the people in front of him. "No, nothing?" He scoffed. "Then I have only one more matter that must be attended to. Lord Arrington." The room was silent, all eyes captivated on the unfolding drama, the councilmen gawking at one of their own about to be hung out to dry. "From what I've gathered about our… discussion this afternoon, it is obvious that you have no sense of loyalty." He growled, hands clasped in front on him on the table. He was subtly digging his nails into one of his palms, in an attempt to keep his composure, otherwise he may have had to break Arrington's smug face.
"I do sire, to you, as well as your late father. And I for one know that he would've replaced that boy ten times over by now. After all, you don't keep a lame horse working, you put it out of its misery." He crooned, seemingly pleased with his analogy, attempting one final time to sway the king's mind, but to Arthur, that was the final straw.
"That is enough." Arthur rose from his seat. "I will not have you disrespect me or any of my servants in my presence. Especially Merlin, who you may recall was personally appointed by my father." Arthur's comment had struck a fatal blow to all those calling for a revival of the old days.
Arthur couldn't have cared less about Merlin back then, the insufferable servant he'd been saddled with, but to his and Uther's unawareness, the old king had given the young prince the best person he'd ever met, a person he couldn't imagine his life without any longer, someone who'd saved his life countless times and he was hoping now he could save Merlin's.
"Sire, you must see," he began, a nervous chuckle in his throat, "I only wish-" His words were unceremoniously cut off by the king, refusing for anymore of his bile to reach his ears.
"I want nothing more to do with you." He sniffed, heading to the corridor towards which Merlin had bolted, then took one final look behind him. "You are dismissed from this court, pending a review of your usefulness to me."
With that, he walked out of the court, leaving many of the men agog, and Arrington notably deflating. He was determined to find his manservant, he needed to see that he was alright, that the lord's words hadn't got under his skin, and finally, he would demand some answers from him.
Well, things always have to get worse before they get better, don't they?
I'm going to work on getting 8 finished, it's currently it three parts at about 800 words.