Trials | Merlin FanFiction (Merthur)

Chapitre Un

It all started, Merlin realized later, when Aelfric arrived.

"The formal coat," Arthur said, fiddling with a knife and a whetstone while Merlin laid out the clothes on the bed. He looked restless, irritable. "No, not that one. The other--Merlin! The other formal coat."

"This is the other formal coat," Merlin said indignantly and waved it at Arthur. "Right here, this is it."

"The other other coat, then," Arthur said. "With the silver buttons."

Merlin sighed and laid out the coat he was holding. "You don't have it anymore."

Arthur sat up straight. "What? What are you talking about? That was my favourite."

"I know it was," Merlin said patiently, "which is why you were wearing it when Sir Bleoberis and Sir Arrok got into that fistfight last week and they accidentally knocked you over into the table and it ended up covered with parsley sauce and melted cheese and three different kinds of fish and a jugful of red wine, and oddly when a coat is covered with fish and wine and parsley it generally doesn't go so well for the coat."

Arthur scowled at him.

"I saved the buttons," Merlin added dryly, "if it makes you feel any better."

"Oh, vastly," Arthur said sarcastically and sighed. "Fine. The other formal coat then--no, not that one, the first one. With the brass."

Merlin resisted the urge to throw the coat at his head and added it to the pile.

"Who is this man, anyway," he said, as he picked up Arthur's coronet and a rag and began to polish it. Arthur sighed and scraped the knife across the oiled whetstone once.

"Baron Aelfric," he said, "one of my father's oldest friends. His closest ally, actually, back when he was consolidating his hold on Camelot. His son is to be wed at court on Midwinter's Eve, so he is coming to visit."

"Hence the banquet," Merlin said, polishing without any particular diligence.

"Hence the banquet." Arthur threw a glove at him, hitting him on the shoulder, and Merlin yanked his head up.

"Oy!"

"Polish harder," Arthur sighed. "I guarantee my father will notice if I do not look appropriately ceremonial. And I will blame you. How long has it been since your last visit to the stocks?" He quirked a grin at Merlin, who rolled his eyes, very obviously.

"Prat," Merlin muttered under his breath, not very quietly at all, and rubbed a little harder at the brass.

Arthur threw the other glove at him, hitting him in the side of the head. Merlin refrained from throwing it into the fire, but only because he didn't want to hear Arthur whine about it all evening.

Over the months, Merlin had been to his fair share of royal banquets, and he knew the usual protocol by heart. Everyone filed in to be seated at the lower tables, while Arthur and Uther and Morgana were seated last at the high table, Arthur at his father's right hand and Morgana at Uther's left. Once they were all sitting, Uther would stand up and make a small speech, or offer a toast. Sometimes other people would make toasts. Sometimes a lot of toasts. And then the first course would be brought in, usually already cold.

Depending on the formality of the banquet, each course might be interrupted with more toasts, or minstrels or displays of juggling or other random entertainments, all of which would be painfully awful as everyone was always too nervous to perform well in front of the king. There would be at least three courses and more usually five or six; on Beltane, which Merlin still had nightmares about, there had been eleven. His job, so far as he could tell, was to do everything for Arthur except actually eat his food for him; he had to refill his goblet whenever it went low, cut small bite-sized portions off of the serving platters to go on Arthur's plate, even hold a bowl of water for him to wash his fingers in afterwards.

Arthur hated formal banquets. They were painfully public; Arthur, Merlin had been startled to discover during his first few days of serving, was at heart a deeply private person, regardless of the confident and charming way he played his public role. Also, sitting next to his father for four or five hours, subject to his father's idea of constructive criticism of everything Arthur did, said, and was, usually left him in a terrible mood for the rest of the night--sometimes for several days afterwards.

So, because Arthur hated them so much, Merlin didn't exactly love banquets either. But, with the exception of the infrequent appearance of various malevolent magical attacks, they were tolerable and the repetition could be rather soothing.

This one, though, wasn't exactly what Merlin was expecting.

First of all, Uther seated Aelfric on his right, at the place of honour, with Morgana in the next seat over. Arthur was moved to sit on his father's left hand, which made Merlin almost trip over his own feet in shock, too busy staring in disbelief to look where he was going. Merlin was no expert on royal banquet protocol, but this didn't feel right.

Arthur didn't hint by word or look that he found anything out of place, but by the clenching of his jaw when he took his seat, Merlin was pretty sure that there would be some broken crockery later that evening. From the reactions of the court, they were almost as surprised as Merlin was; there was a loud whispering that started when Aelfric was seated, and it didn't fully go away even after Uther stood to give the toast.

Second, Uther spent almost the entire meal talking to no one but Aelfric. They traded stories of old raids and argued over who had shot the most arrows into a target at some tournament that had probably been held five years before Arthur was born. Uther even mentioned Igraine, something Merlin had never heard him do in public, and he saw Morgana nearly drop her knife in shock.

Merlin filled Arthur's plate as the courses came out and filled his goblet as it emptied--which happened a little more rapidly than normal, but only a little; Arthur's control was too good for such an obvious sign of displeasure to show through--and tried otherwise to make himself invisible against the wall. Arthur, who would normally spend half the banquet muttering pained asides to Merlin who would then have to figure out a way to not go purple with suppressed laughter, said almost nothing.

And finally, it seemed that Aelfric had some sort of mischievous urge to tease Uther about Arthur--and he did so frequently.

"I must say, Uther," he said loudly, towards the end of the feast, his blank-faced manservant filling his goblet for the--twelfth?--time, "I'm impressed with your boy. We have heard stories of his prowess and skill on the field, and his bravery. You must be very proud."

"I am," Uther said, glancing at Arthur, who tipped his head in polite acknowledgement of the praise. "He's a proven warrior, indeed. He has vanquished many of Camelot's enemies."

"Vanquished too many, mayhap." Aelfric laughed and drank deeply. "A man such as he is--famous Prince Arthur, even far from Camelot they know his name--many a king would fear such a son." He belched. "It does you credit that you do not."

Merlin almost missed Uther's slight twitch, but it abruptly made his skin crawl.

"Arthur is my son," Uther said, pleasantly, "of course I trust him implicitly."

Aelfric gripped his hand and smiled. "Of course," he said sincerely. "I admire that you are so close. Fathers and sons should always be so." He waved a genial hand towards Arthur. "You're a good man, Arthur," he said. "See that you are worthy of following the great man that is your father."

"He is indeed a great man, Lord Aelfric. I strive to emulate his example every day," Arthur said smoothly, giving a short dip of the head to both Uther and Aelfric. "Camelot owes a great debt to him." Uther looked pleased. Aelfric looked momentarily disappointed and then smiled broadly.

"An excellent answer," he said, warmly, "and well-spoken. Your loyalty to your father is admirable."

Merlin eyed Aelfric. He really didn't like the man. And all this talk about loyalty and following his father was beginning to sound a little...strange.

"Father," Arthur said quietly, leaning over to his father, "With your permission, I would seek to retire. I'm leading a patrol to the Glawenneg hill fort tomorrow, and we ride before dawn."

"Of course," Uther said, and waved a gracious hand. Arthur stood, letting Merlin pull his chair back for him without actually appearing to notice his existence, and bowed to the king, to Aelfric, and--rather mockingly--to Morgana, who smirked at him. Then he left, cloak sweeping out behind him, Merlin following in his wake.

"Well," Merlin said once they were well away from the great hall, safely out of earshot of any servants. "So that was Lord Aelfric."

Arthur glanced at him, and there was a warning in his look not to press. "Yes?"

"Nothing," Merlin said quickly, and on the spot resolved to take a quick peek around Aelfric's rooms the next day while Arthur was gone. He dropped back behind Arthur, already planning. Arthur would be gone by sunrise, and Uther might want to take Aelfric out as well, maybe just a short hunt near the castle. He'd get his chance then.

"Creep," he muttered quietly and then stiffened because he hadn't meant to say that. Arthur never permitted anyone to offer the slightest disrespect to his father or his father's decisions, no matter his own opinion of them. Merlin was no exception to that. He was already bracing himself for Arthur's anger when Arthur turned and glared at him blankly. "Sorry, Arthur," he said quietly, wincing.

"Lord Aelfric is my father's closest friend and a baron in this kingdom. You will grant him the respect due his rank, do you understand? I will never hear you say such a thing again," Arthur said grimly, and Merlin nodded, apologetically. "You will spend two hours in the stocks, tomorrow."

Merlin sighed. Tomorrow was market day, which meant more people than usual and fresher vegetables. "Yes, sire. Sorry, sire," he added sincerely. If Arthur suspected that Merlin was actually apologizing for saying it where Arthur had to hear and discipline him for it, he didn't show it. Much.

"But he is," Merlin added, under his breath, softly enough that Arthur could pretend not to hear him. Arthur's expression didn't change, but he coughed, just slightly, and Merlin grinned down at the floor.

A minute later, Arthur sighed and touched his shoulder, a little apologetically. Merlin lifted his face to grin at him, and Arthur grinned back, a touch sheepishly.

"Bring out the chessboard," Arthur said when they got back into hisrooms. "I don't want to go to bed just yet."

"Don't you have an early ride?" Merlin said, opening the small chestwith the board and pieces and beginning to set them up.

"That's none of your concern." Arthur dropped into his chair."Call for wine, and something to eat." He propped his elbow on onearm and stared moodily at the table. "I'm still hungry."

"Uh-huh," Merlin muttered, as he went to the door. It was going to beone of those nights. The moon was already well up, and therewere probably only a few hours before Arthur left on patrol. If he planned tospend the rest of the night drinking and gaming, he'd be unbearable by morning."Food at the feast not to your taste?" he asked blandly, throwingopen the latch. Arthur snorted.

The chambermaid passing in the halls gave Merlin a surprised look when he askedfor a wineskin and some bread and cheese and smoked meat, but she hurried awayquickly enough. Merlin shut the door, and Arthur gave him a look that, if hewasn't a prat and a prince, might have been an apology.

"White or black?" Merlin said, to spare him from actually having tosay it, something he was more willing to do after Arthur sat up and looked withmore interest at the board as though seeing it for the first time.

"Black," Arthur decided eventually, and Merlin grinned. He only everwon if Arthur played black. Sometimes he suspected that Arthur did it onpurpose.