Various Fandoms Oneshots

Chores and Things and Grumpy Kings

Fandom: Merlin

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, OC, mentions of Gwen

Canon Pairings

Desc: Set in the Golden Age, Merlin is now Court Sorcerer of Camelot, and takes his job very seriously. Unfortunately for him, a certain royal prat is determined to make it as difficult as possible. Why can't Arthur get it in that big head of his that magic doesn't have to fix every tiny thing?

Crack, fluff, slight angst. Merthur bromance only.

Word Count: 2507

"Merrrrrrrliiiin!"

Merlin sighed. In the weeks following his reveal, Arthur had somehow managed to get even more annoying, if that was even possible. At even the smallest inconvenience Arthur would shout for him and demand he fix whatever it was with some spell or another, despite most of them being easily fixable using non-magical means. Pests in his chambers? Merlin. Stain on his favourite shirt? Merlin. A particularly irritating noble that just didn't know when to shut up? Merlin. So the warlock found himself spending half his day carrying out his new duties--such as healing cases beyond Gaius' ability, putting up defences around Camelot, making amends with all manner of magical people and creatures, and sorting through all the old relics and such lying around in Uther's basement--and the other exasperatedly removing ink spots from Arthur's desk. And it was really beginning to get on his nerves.

Merlin set aside the tomb he had been working on, a massive, dusty thing with all kinds of fascinating and enthralling spells in it, that would now have to wait till a later date, and closed it with a frustrated thump.

"Coming, sire!" He called back derisively. Standing, he stretched, a crick in his neck releasing its tension, and grabbed his leather coat from where it dangled over the back of his chair. Even though he now held the position of court sorcerer, Merlin had been adamant in keeping his clothing choices largely the same as always, and the simple blue undershirt, baggy brown pants, brown leather jacket and red neckerchief he wore that day were no exception. In fact, the only difference in his wardrobe now was the fabric his clothes were crafted of, which was much better quality and cleaner than anything he had as a servant. He had kept his favourite leather boots, however, much to Arthur's irritation, and unfortunately for the king that had only caused Merlin to want to keep them more.

Well, there was one thing he added on to his outfit... He pulled his magnificent blue cloak off its hook and flung it over his shoulder in a smooth, practiced motion. The cloak was a thing of beauty, a rich cobalt blue in colour, adorned with the Camelot sigil in a lighter shade of blue on its back, fringed with true gold and silver, and had his favourite addition of twin dragons circling each other making up the clasp at its front. It had been a congratulatory gift from the king and queen at his inauguration, and his love for it had not diminished in the slightest since then. He'd even gone so far as to enchant it with multiple protection spells, against anything from water to weapon, and spelled it to flare out around him even if the air was still. Arthur had said it made him look like a pompous idiot, but since Merlin had the information that the blond often used a mixture of honey and water to style his hair, and wasn't afraid to share it, the king really didn't have much of an argument.

Opening the library door, it emitting that familiar creak, Merlin bade goodbye to Geoffrey and began making his way down the castle corridor, all the while cursing the castles fabulous echoes and the knowledge Arthur had of them. If Merlin so much as tried to use the excuse that he didn't hear the king calling, Arthur would fix him with a knowing glare and remind him that, "Merlin, I grew up in these hallways. I know the echoes. I know my echoes. And I know the places you mess about in. I know when you mess about in them. Don't think you can try and fool me with false ignorance. It won't work." Merlin had been slightly disturbed by how menacing those last words sounded, but of course he would never admit that to Arthur.