Merthur One-shots

Long Live The King

Summary: Set ten years after S5E13, we get a little insight into Merlin's life beside Arthur in Camelot.

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Merlin’s legs ached a little as he climbed the stairs. That was something he’d noticed, recently – small aches and pains, his joints complaining in ways they never used to in his youth. Only the other week, he’d pulled a muscle swinging himself up onto his horse, and now he rubbed absentmindedly at a niggling pain in his elbow as he made his way through the corridors.

So lost was he in his thoughts that upon turning a corner, he slammed bodily into a hurrying Sir Leon. Had it not been for the knight’s quick reflexes – or the flash of gold in Merlin’s eyes – he would have found himself on the ground, with more than just a sore elbow. As it was, they both stumbled a little before disentangling their limbs from one another and each making a valiant attempt at appearing dignified.

That only lasted a moment, though – old friends as they were, such pretences had long since vanished out of the window. Merlin was the first to break into laughter.

“Sorry, Leon. I think my head was miles away.”

Leon mirrored Merlin’s expression of good humour. “Quite alright, Merlin. I should be more careful not to surprise you like that.”

“Me? Surprised?” Merlin snorted, feigning calmness. “I’m never surprised.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Well then, you won’t be at all surprised to learn that the King has called a council meeting this morning.”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up behind the curls of his fringe. “He’s done what?” Surprise was indeed his first response, quickly followed by exasperation, fondness, and the smallest hint of worry that was quickly assuaged by the utter lack of urgency in Leon’s body language.

“I was actually on my way to find you. A good bit of luck that you quite literally ran into me. Come on Merlin, his Royal Highness awaits your presence.” Leon turned and began striding back the way he had come.

Merlin let out a heavy sigh, and grumbled under his breath. “His Royal Pratness, more like.”

If Leon heard his complaint, he didn’t say anything as they walked the short distance together to the council chambers. Merlin studied his companion as he hurried along through the familiar halls of the castle. Was that a grey hair he saw? And were the laughter lines creasing a little deeper on Leon’s face these days? It warmed Merlin’s heart a little to see his friends changing like this – so slowly, yet day by day they all grew a little older. For a moment he tried to imagine Gwaine in the same way, but even after ten years it still hurt to think about for too long. Gwaine would never get the opportunity to go grey, or feel his knees aching from a single flight of stairs.

The chamber doors opening mercifully broke Merlin from his thoughts.

“Ah. Merlin. Nice of you to join us, at last.”

Merlin bit back a smile at the teasing tone of Arthur’s voice. Instead, he arranged his features into something a little more haughty, and bit back, “Well, if the great King of Camelot could find it within himself to give his most loyal aides more than five minutes notice of important meetings, I would be very grateful.”