[✔] Sides (a merthur soulmate au fanfiction)

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Not BBC, Johnny Capps, Julian Murphy.

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Chapter 7

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Merlin– all of it Merlin.

Merlin.

Merlin–

He dug his heels in time to avoid crashing against the physician that just took the turn his way. He looked up to meet Gaius's eyes, and launched into his question in less than a second.

"Where's Merlin?"

Gaius looked back at Arthur in a confused way. "I thought he is attending to your needs, sire,"

Arthur lifted his eyebrows, at loss of what to say. Merlin is–? Oh, why was it always so difficult to find this particular manservant of his when he needed him most?

Arthur almost laughed at the thought– it was almost like the old days. In a fraction of a second he already turned on his heels and sprinted to his room.

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Merlin soaked the cloth on a bucket of water he had placed on the chair and proceeded to wipe the King's table clean. Sighing, he applied some pressure and began wiping hard.

He didn't know what Arthur had done on the table, what kind of stupid ink he had knocked over the furniture, or if the substitute manservant had tried to clean it at all. The lad obviously didn't know how to clean a simple wooden table– the ink had dried and it wouldn't come off no matter how hard he wiped it.

"Yeah, don't worry about not being able to clean this impossible ink even though it is your job, my manservant will be back in bit and he'll finish that in no time!" Merlin muttered in annoyance under his breath, impersonating the particular Prince of Camelot.

He applied more pressure and wiped back and forth harder. If the ink didn't come off any second now he probably needed to head back to Gaius and ask him for something to help him do so. "Of course it will be me who finish other people's trouble– trust Arthur to do that, above all people–"

The door banged open all of a sudden.

"Merlin–"

Merlin looked up so quickly that he released his grip on the cloth, stepping back and knocking the chair behind him, splashing a bit of water from the bucket on it to the floor. Arthur himself was torn between sighing, rolling his eyes, barking at how clumsy the oaf in front of him was or laughing at how familiar the circumstances was before a cold prick pressed against his gut and left him silent.

Merlin gasped and bent down to wipe the water clumsily, "sorry– sorry, sorry, I didn't hear you coming–"

Arthur wanted to laugh. Days like these—with Merlin with his irritating clumsy antics and him rolling his eyes at the brunet because he was far beyond exhausted at his servant's incapability to do anything right but he still wouldn't have any other manservant—Arthur would do anything to have it back.

He took a deep breath and blink away moist that was gathering on his eyes.

"Your Majesty," Merlin added silently, avoiding his eyes.

Arthur stayed silent for a while and Merlin looked up to meet his eyes. Arthur expected to find them wide in fear, or alert, ready to fight the moment the blonde made any movement to reach his sword, but instead he found nothing but resignation in the brunet's blue eyes, as though he was ready to accept whatever Arthur had to say.