Merlin's magic (Oneshots) 1

In my head

A.N.:// This story has been placed inside my head by GarotoPreguicosozzZ :) I have no idea if that is what you had in mind... I abandoned Lancelot, sorry :/ But this is what my head had to say to that XD I'm so happy I got some time to write. I love it so much and you guys give me so much support. I wish I didn't need to study. But I had to get this out of my system. Please enjoy :)

------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin didn't like Mordred. And that bothered Arthur immensely.

Some observations are made at first glance, while others take a lot of patience and reconsideration. This one was a mix of both. At first, Arthur had been certain he was just imagining things. Merlin didn't hate anyone. Ever. He just wasn't capable of it. Neither of hatred nor malice. Arthur had tested Merlin's patience for over 10 years and the boy still smiled at him. Merlin had never shown even the smallest inkling of dislike toward anyone. Even people he passionately mistrusted, such as Agravaine, he at least tolerated or respected. And yet, when it came to Mordred, sweet, innocent, kind Mordred, Merlin turned downright ballistic and Arthur couldn't figure out why. It was as concerning as it was fascinating.

To Arthur, it was a bit of a disaster. Because, quite frankly, Mordred had turned out to be his favorite knight. Not because of his prowess with the sword, nor his intelligence or anything of that sort. No.

It was something else. Something embarrassingly else. There was this adorable air about Mordred that reminded him a little bit of Merlin, while he, at the same time, portrayed the same kind of courage and passionate self-sacrificial tendencies that Arthur did. It was a bit amusing to think of Mordred as a mixture of the two. Also, it so happened that Arthur could easily imagine Mordred as his son.

It bothered him that Merlin seemed to actively hate the kid. It made Arthur uncomfortable to see Mordred, a mix of Arthur's and Merlin's best qualities in one adorable and brave kid, so disliked by his best friend. Not that Arthur would ever admit that out loud. Kings didn't have best friends. Especially not one so rude. But that is what Merlin was anyway and Arthur valued Merlin's opinion above all others.
Arthur didn't understand what was wrong with Mordred. What was wrong with his own - strangely protective - affections for the druid boy? Or was it the magic? Was it really that much of a problem? Did Merlin see him as a potential threat because of that? Magic was illegal, but just because Mordred could use it didn't mean he would! Arthur thought it was fine.

Arthur's eyes traveled from Mordred's beaming smile over to Merlin, who was watching the knight's training from the sidelines and saw distrust. And an uncalled-for rage that Arthur's armor certainly did not deserve.

Arthur sighed, then he clapped Mordred on the shoulder. The boy had followed Arthur's gaze and his expression shifted from a proud smile who had just been praised to the expression of a kicked puppy. Arthur clapped his shoulder again, smiling awkwardly. "He'll come around, I'm sure."
As well as Arthur knew that Merlin disliked Mordred, as well did he know that it bothered Mordred too. The poor kid was running after Merlin all day, trying to win his favor. And he failed every time, miserably and always ending up standing in the dust.

Mordred looked up at Arthur, trying to look more like a knight and less like a scolded child. He squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "Do you think so?" His voice always betrayed him.

Arthur pressed his lips into a hard line. He was starting to feel sorry for him. "I'll talk to him." The hopeful expression after that was, in Arthur's opinion, uncalled for. But it bound Arthur to his word.

—-------------------------------------------------------

That evening, Arthur approached his servant. It wasn't hard to corner him, because quite frankly, Arthur didn't need to corner him at all. Merlin was always at Arthur's side. He woke him in the morning, brought him breakfast, helped him get dressed, read out Arthur's schedule for him, sometimes joined in during the council meetings, brought Arthur lunch, watched him train, helped him undress, said him good night and on the not so rare occasions that Arthur got hurt, Merlin was the one to treat his wounds. Merlin was always there. Always. Except for the actually rare occasions when he wasn't. And those days always aligned with the times that Camelot got attacked. Merlin had the worst timing. Or, which Arthur sometimes wondered, Merlin had drilled Arthur to believe that Arthur was only safe when Merlin was around. Which weirdly extended to hunting trips, even though there, Arthur only got attacked when Merlin WAS around. Arthur hadn't figured it out yet, but this was not the question he was meant to tackle tonight.
Arthur was sitting at the open fire at the hearth in his room. He had allowed himself a glass of wine and he was prepared for bed, while Merlin was skitting about to clean Arthur's room. Well... if you wanted to call what he did "cleaning". Merlin just straightened the bed and picked up clothes. One should not check for dust under Arthur's bed. Merlin wasn't very thorough in his job.