Merthur One-shots

The Court Sorcerer's New Clothes

Summary: Merlin has a secret habit.

Or, more accurately, a coping mechanism.

Embroidery

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Merlin sighed, picking at his shirt as he sat at the council table. He was bored and tired and nervous. It was really incredible how he could feel so many different things at once. The sorcerer sighed again. He wasn’t ready for the meeting. He’d just barely finished reviewing and adding finishing touches to the new law he and Arthur had been in the process of making.

He wasn’t ready for the council to be shown it…

He wondered if it was obvious that he was about ready to bolt for the door.

“Merlin.”

The warlock stopped fiddling with the hem of his shirt and looked up from the table he sat at. The council meeting was about to begin, they were just waiting for the last members to file into the room. Merlin was sure Arthur was a second away from starting without them. Not that he minded. Less people to present the law draft to…

“Merlin!” His shoulders jumped slightly as he was yanked out of his train of thought by a second call of his name. His eyes moved to look at Arthur to his right, and he tilted his head.

“What, Arthur?” He sighed. The King was frowning in bemusement as he stared at Merlin’s arm—the side of his shoulder specifically.

“Why’ve you got flowers on your shirt?”

Merlin faltered, a light heat rising to his cheeks as he realized what Arthur was referring to. He hadn’t realized he’d grabbed that shirt! He had been so tired…

“I, ah,” he cleared his throat before looking away, trying to appear nonchalant. “I like flowers.”

He couldn’t believe he’d not noticed.

There were forget-me-nots around both wrists! How had he overlooked that?! He just hoped Arthur left the subject be… Oh, how embarrassing. Of all tunics he could have chosen in his half-asleep haze…

“How did they get there?” Ah, he should know better than to have hope.

“What?” Merlin looked to him, frowning at his question.

Arthur just rolled his eyes [quite dramatically, if Merlin said so himself]. “The flowers. How did they get there? They didn’t just appear,” he stated as if Merlin didn’t already know that, “so who did it? It’s excellent work. I have a cloak I’ve been wanting a crest embroidered into a new cloak for some time now, anyhow, perhaps I could commission the woman who did your shirt.”

Merlin blinked a few times, startled by the turn of the conversation. Arthur thought his embroidery was excellent work… Good enough to commission him to do his crest into a cloak… The thought sent a giddy feeling rushing through him, which he quickly shoved down. No. No, Arthur couldn’t know.

He would make fun of him for it, say it’s girlish… He would mean it in good fun, but Merlin needed this one thing to go untouched by Arthur’s teasing. He needed this one thing. It really nearly kept him sane. If Arthur took to teasing him for it, even if just in good fun… It would lose its safety, it’s comfort…