Chapter Text
“At least it smells better than that place we stayed in when we did the apple picking?”
Gwaine and Merlin were standing in a room that was only marginally bigger than the one they had been staying in at Gaius’. Unsurprisingly, both parties came to the mutual conclusion that it might be best for the boys to find alternative accommodation, given that Gaius now had to sleep in the small room while the floor was being repaired.
Gwen had kindly come to the rescue and found a room for rent in the lower town above the bakery. Room might have been an overstatement, although it did have a window which made it less of a cupboard and more of an inhabitable space. There were two small beds, one pushed up against each wall and just enough space at the foot of each bed to store their packs. Meals could be prepared in the bakery downstairs as long as they didn’t leave a mess.
“It’s also in our budget,” Merlin said.
“What’s our budget again?” Gwaine asked.
“Sweet bugger all.”
“Looks like we have found our new home, then,” said Gwaine, collapsing onto the bed. He propped his hands behind his head, crossing his legs at his ankles with his boots still on.
“Well, that’s definitely your bed then,” Merlin said, wrinkling his nose.
Gwaine pulled his boots off and threw them onto the other bed.
“Oi!” Merlin shouted, picking up the boots by the laces and throwing them back at him. “Those are filthy!”
“You’re filthy,” Gwaine fired back lazily.
“You better get ready,” Merlin said with a smirk. “Don’t want to be late for your try outs.”
“Why do I even need to try out?” Gwaine sighed. “It’s obvious the Princess is frothing over this.” He motioned to himself.
Merlin scoffed.
“I don’t reckon you’re his type.”
Gwaine sat up. “Jealous are we, Merlin?”
“No,” he replied, shaking out the dust from the thin blanket on his bed.
“Better not be. I know you’re keen on him, but Pendragon is nothing but trouble for you. Understand?”
Merlin grunted. “I’m not keen on him.”
“Bullshit. I’m not saying you can’t look, but you know what could happen if he found out about your you know.”
Merlin did know. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
He slumped on the bed, tipping his head back against the thin pillow.
“Why do you look so relaxed?” Gwaine asked.
“I’m not trying out,” Merlin replied. “I’m going to have a snooze.”
“Guess again, you’re coming along. No way I’m leaving you here unsupervised,” Gwaine said, throwing Merlin’s boots at him.
“I’m not a child!” Merlin moaned, rolling pathetically around on the bed.
“No, you’re worse than one!” Gwaine laughed.
~o~
Arthur had been worried that no-one would turn up to the try out session. Unfortunately, he had the opposite problem.
Close to fifty men were milling around the field, wearing peasant clothes and equipped without armour. Many looked to be nothing more than farmers, although some looked to be seasoned fighters and he suspected a couple may have even been mercenaries or sell swords looking for a steadier income.
They were talking amongst themselves, some calling out to other men, other were sparing with sticks to warm up or in the case of two young louts, sharpened swords. Arthur presumed practice swords were a luxury the commoners did not have. One man was wearing a steel helmet and no other armour. Another was the size of a giant and evidently couldn’t find a top that fit his arms as he was without sleeves even in the cool autumn weather.
It also seemed that a number of the noble born knights had come to watch, loitering by the castle end of the field, gossiping amongst themselves. Arthur knew he’d need to put on a good show to shut them up. He would have to get this training started soon, and create some sort of organisation in this chaos.
Another problem was that as these men were not nobles, they did not have squires to prepare the equipment.
“Sire, can I help?”
Arthur spun around to the source of the voice calling to him.
“Leon! Oh, that would be fantastic.”
Leon was an old childhood friend of Arthur’s, only a few years older. His family line had been nobles of the court going way back, but he wasn’t like the others. He was a good man and in line to be the First Knight in a few years, and yet he did not rest on his laurels like the rest of the Knights did. If only Arthur could replicate a few more hard working Leons they wouldn’t be in this mess.
“How about we get them into lines to warm up, sire? Then I can start getting the equipment ready.”
“Good idea.”
Arthur looked around. They were going need a lot of practice swords for this many men.
He saw Gwaine lounging around on the grass near the back door to the armoury which opened onto the field, chatting to . . .
Arthur made his way over quickly, Leon following closely behind.
“Oi! Merlin! We need all the practice swords,” Arthur said, pointing to the armoury.
The scandal on Merlin’s face was enough to even get a laugh out of Leon.
“I’m injured, you prat!” Merlin snapped back, waving his bandaged arm.
Arthur shrugged, biting back a smirk. “Use the cart then. Come on, chop chop.”
He turned away, noticing Gwaine move to help Merlin with a clap on the back.
“Not you Gwaine, I need someone in this warm up who knows what they’re doing.”
Merlin moaned like a cow. Arthur and Gwaine left him with Leon to get the equipment set up.
Arthur struggled to get the men’s attention until Gwaine took pity and whistled shrilly, causing the men closest to cover their ears. He grinned smugly, folding his arms and turning to Arthur.
“Right, we might get started. If I could have you in lines of six, we’ll get started.”
It turned out that was too much to ask for. Some men were pushing to be at the front, while others were in lines of eight or still clumped together.
A kind looking man with dark hair had taken it upon himself to try and sort the men around him into lines of six, while Gwaine finally took pity and helped the men at the back.
After far too long, the men were assembled. Arthur tried to ignore the laughter coming from the noble knights at the back of the field.
“Thank you for coming today to apply to join the inaugural group of common born knights in Camelot.”
Arthur turned to Gwaine and whispered under his breath - “We need a better name.”
Gwaine responded with a snort.
“We can only take twenty so I will be looking for the best candidates from today’s session.”
Arthur looked around at the men before him. He worried he may not be able to find twenty.
In the lull he could hear Merlin cursing loudly, dragging a cart full of shields onto the field.
The warm up didn’t go as badly as expected. One man with nobbly knees who looked like he might be a little old to start his career as a knight was injured by a divot in the grass, but other than that most men were unscathed.
He decided to get the men to do some simple fitness exercises to help split the group a bit and get rid of those who were clearly not cut out for fighting. He managed to shed ten men quite quickly with some easy shuttle runs. The giant man with no sleeves was surprisingly agile and kept up in the middle of the field.
Arthur then split the men into sparring pairs. Gwaine had gotten unlucky and been paired with the giant, but seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself and even finding time to have a chat in between strikes. The kind man who had helped the men get organised earlier showed that he was as skilled as he was helpful. He noticed that Gwen’s brother Elyan was trying out and knew his way around a sword in more ways than one.
Merlin lay in the grass on his side, one knee cocked, watching the men all vying for a position in the new troupe of knights. He would get burnt if he lay out in the sun any longer.
A stray mace almost took off Arthur’s head, drawing his attention back to the battling men.
By the time he called an end to the session and thanked everyone for coming, he had twenty-three men in mind.
“Sire! By chance, would you have a moment?”
Arthur paused from taking off his leather bracers. He had refrained from wearing his full armour knowing full well that very few common born men would even possess a chest plate. His years of diplomacy training at his father’s side had at least taught him that armour wasn’t just for protection from steel, but also worn to intimidate. He needed to at least make some attempt to empathise with these men if he intended to lead a group of them.
The man who had garnered his attention was wearing full leather armour with metal vambraces. He was also holding his own sword which was rather shiny.
“My name is Edward and I just wanted to give my thanks for this wonderful opportunity. For too long those of us who have talents and skills that could be used to protect the kingdom but have been prevented in doing so by virtue of our birth. Even though I am practically of noble birth myself, with my father owning several buildings in the town.”
Arthur nodded, letting his face slide into the expression he used for boring visiting nobles.
“Thank you also for coming today.”
He turned away, only for Edward to follow him.
“Those of us who’ve trained in sword craft would be a most valuable asset to the program. I used to squire for Lord Yates.”
Arthur couldn’t help but let his eyes roll ever so slightly. Lord Yates was a flashy fighter who was famous for his long winded speeches which bored everyone to death more effectively than his sword had ever done.
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind,” Arthur said with finality, looking around for someone new to speak with to shake off the leech.
Of course, the only person in earshot had to be . . .
“Merlin! I was just looking for you!”
Arthur marched over to a perplexed looking Merlin who was dragging the little wooden cart laden with blunt swords.
“You were?” Merlin shrugged and dropped the handle for the cart. “Good, you can haul these. I’m done.”
“Wait, wait,” Arthur said, moving in front of Merlin to stop him. His pale cheeks were as pink as some of the knights after the session. Arthur supposed he had asked Merlin to haul the equipment that would usually be managed by six squires all by himself, and one-armed.
“What if I paid you?”
Merlin’s head whipped up. He licked his lips thoughtfully.
“What, to carry all this junk in and out?”
Arthur nodded. “Each training, you can be in charge of the equipment!”
Merlin snorted, crossing his arms. “How much are you going to pay me?”
Arthur hadn’t actually asked his father about paying anyone apart from the gold piece each common born knight would earn per fortnight.
“A silver coin.”
Merlin blew out a low breath, shaking his head as he pushed past Arthur.
He could probably find a couple of boys in the lower town who would do the work without complaint for half the amount.
“Okay, two!” Arthur called out. Merlin stopped, spinning around on his heel as nimbly as a dancer of the court.
“Three.”
It was Arthur’s turn to snort. It wasn’t unreasonable for the work, maybe a little on the high side, but he could take the wage out of his allowance. Lords knew he didn’t have anything useful to spend it on.
“Okay.”
Merlin’s face broke into a grin.
“What’s got you looking like that cat that’s got the cream?”
Gwaine hung his arm around Merlin’s neck.
“Arthur’s going to start paying me for services rendered,” Merlin said, waggling his eyebrows.
Gwaine turned around slowly to face Arthur, his eyebrows giving Gaius’ a run for their money. Arthur blushed furiously, stuttering his words before he could find the right ones.
“No, that’s not . .”
Merlin burst out laughing. “I’ve got a job carrying all the equipment.” He jabbed Gwaine in the chest. “Why, what did you think I meant?”
“Such a trouble maker,” Gwaine growled, slapping Merlin on the upside of his head.
“Ow!” Merlin complained, although the hit could hardly have hurt. He flashed Arthur a wink just as Leon joined them.
“A good turn out,” Leon said, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Yes, it was,” Arthur agreed. He was grateful for the change of subject. “I’ve almost narrowed it down I think.”
“Surely you’re going to include Percival,” Gwaine said, uncorking his waterskin. “The big fella.”
Arthur nodded. He wasn’t just one of the biggest men he’d seen, he was also skilled with the sword and seemed to follow instructions well.
“What about the man with the dark hair, the one you were paired with?” Merlin asked Leon.
“Lancelot? Oh, I would strongly recommend he be selected, sire. He was a very good fighter and very gracious with the less skilled men.”
“I liked the look of those two young fellas,” Gwaine said, pointing back towards where the last of the men were clearing off. “Kay and Belvedere or something.”
“They looked a little young,” Arthur said, scrunching up his nose.
“Yes sire, but you can mould young fighters,” Leon added. “Avoid them learning bad habits.”
He had a point.
“Elyan did quite well,” Arthur said, thinking aloud.
“He’s Gwen’s brother, isn’t he?” Leon added with a nod.
“He was good,” said Merlin.
“What about old fancy feet?” Gwaine asked, nodding towards Edward who was now talking Lancelot’s ear off.
“I would prefer not to include him, but having someone who has some sort of link to the nobility could be a good idea.”
Merlin groaned. “He was a wanker.”
The next day Arthur read out the list of names of the men who had been selected to a crowd that had gathered in the square of the lower town. It had been Morgana’s idea to make the announcement there to be more in touch with the commoners whom he would be leading.
It wasn’t just the men who tried out who gathered for the announcement - women and children turned out as well all brimming with nervous energy. Arthur climbed on the back of an apple wagon so that he could actually be seen and heard by the crowd.
Leon had come along, looking very nervous. Knights and nobles rarely came to the lower town unless they were on duty. Arthur himself had spent very little time there. To come without an entourage of guards would be considered foolish. That is, if Arthur had told his father he was going. Which he most certainly did not.
Morgana had followed along with Gwen who was standing with her brother, holding his arm. Gathered with them were Gwaine and Merlin, the latter who was munching on some honey cakes from one of the market stalls.
Arthur got started.
“As you all know, Camelot will have its first common-born knights. If you have not made the list today, do not be disheartened, as the standard of the men who tried out was quite high.”
Arthur flicked a quick glance at Leon. In reality, there were only a handful of very skilled men, and a handful more that had shown promise.
Lancelot had smiled graciously when his name was called, accepting congratulations from Gwaine and Merlin who were standing near him. The same went for Percival.
Gwen squealed when Elyan’s name was called, jumping up and down and embarrassing him terribly. Her antics got a laugh from the gathered crowd and had Morgana almost in stitches. It seemed to ease some of the nervous tension.
Arthur could see why Morgana had suggested to do the announcement in the Lower Town. The mood had lightened amongst the townspeople and he could see how this sort of interaction from the Prince and the King’s Ward could help to strengthen the relationship between Camelot’s crown and its people.
With her compassionate and intelligent insights, Arthur acknowledged that Morgana may even make a good advisor some day when he was king.
Edward cheered loudly for himself when his name was called. Merlin didn’t even attempt to hide his groan.
Arthur called the final name then stepped down from the cart, joining Morgana, Gwen, Leon, Gwaine and Merlin as the crowds dispersed.
“Well that went well,” he said, feeling quite chuffed. Secretly, he had been worried that there would be men at the end, angry that they had not been selected, cursing his name, however the mood was the opposite. It was jubilant and almost hopeful.
“This new knighthood means a lot to the townspeople,” Gwen said, watching as her brother congratulated Lancelot and Percival. “There aren’t many opportunities for common folk to better their place in life. What you’ve done gives people hope.”
Morgana gave Arthur a knowing smile. Even she knew that he hadn’t thought of that when he petitioned his father - all he had wanted was a group of better knights that would give him a challenge - but now he could see that there was more to it than that.
“Well, that sounds like a reason to celebrate!” Gwaine cheered, throwing an arm around Arthur’s neck. Leon squeaked from the casualness of the gesture.
Somehow, Arthur found himself an hour later sitting around a table in the Rising Sun with Gwaine, Merlin, Morgana and Gwen and a group of the new knights, tankard in hand. Leon had insisted on staying, worried about Arthur’s safety in the Lower Town.
“Lighten up, Leon!” Gwaine laughed, sliding another tankard in his direction. Leon glanced over his shoulder before accepting the drink.
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, mumbling into the ale.
“Psh, you’re surrounded by the best fighters in the Lower Town who you’ve just promised knighthoods and gold - I think you’re pretty safe.”
Arthur gave Leon a look to say he’s right. While Leon didn’t look entirely convinced, he relaxed a lot more after that.
“So what will you be called?” Morgana asked, sipping her cup of wine.
“Commonborn of Camelot Knights?” Gwaine suggested with a wry smile.
Merlin twisted his mouth, taking a sip of his drink, but not before muttering “COCKs for short?”
“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed.
The laughter burst from those around the table, wild and uncontrolled.
“Merlin! There are ladies present!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Gwen,” he said with a bow, giving Morgana a nudge. She threw her head back, laughing in a way that Arthur rarely saw from his almost-sister.
The scandalised expression on Leon’s face was enough to break Arthur’s scowl into a smirk. What Merlin had done was enough of an offence to send him to the dungeons, and yet, it was worth it to see Morgana laugh.
They were joined by other new members of the yet-to-be-named knighthood. Through the conversation that followed, Arthur found out that Lancelot’s dream had always been to be a knight of Camelot, despite originally coming from Mercia. Percival was also originally from a foreign kingdom, but that’s all they found out apart from the fact he was a man of few words.
Once the sun began to sink, Leon insisted on escorting Gwen and Morgana home. By the time he returned, the party were deep into their cups. The tavern was full of noisy shouts and moving bodies. The lower town were out to celebrate, and the presence of the Prince in their pub only spurred them on.
“You are talking rubbish Gwaine!” Merlin shouted, a little louder than necessary. “There is no way you can win!”
His cheeks were already rosy. Arthur himself was feeling much more relaxed after a few pints. He was almost having fun, even.
“Nah, it’s all in the technique.” Gwaine waved Merlin away, rolling up his sleeve.
Percival swapped seats with a delighted Elyan so that he was sitting opposite.
“What’s going on here?” Leon asked, taking a seat next to Arthur.
“Gwaine has challenged Percival to an arm wrestle.”
“Percival?” Leon settled in with a grin. “This should be good.”
Arthur joined Merlin in banging his cup against the table in a rapid tattoo as the two men took their positions.
“Are you ready?” Elyan asked from his position officiating at the end of the table. Both men nodded.
“You’re going down Percy,” Gwaine taunted. Percival’s only reply was a shake of his head and a smile.
“Go!” Elyan shouted.
Whether Gwaine was stronger than Arthur gave him credit for or whether there really was something in his technique theory remained unknown, but he managed to actually hold Percival off for a few moments. Merlin was cheering, practically jumping in his seat as the men gathered around them shouted their encouragement.
After a few more seconds, Percival had obviously decided that the match had gone on long enough. He gritted his teeth and pulled Gwaine’s arm flat against the table without any effort.
The table broke out into cheers, a few coins changing hands.
Gwaine shook hands with Percy, then called over a barmaid to refill everyone’s drinks.
Arthur wasn’t sure when they started the drinking game, but it was Merlin who was to blame. He started singing a bawdy song that other men seemed to know. Arthur quickly caught on that he was meant to drink every time the last line was sung.
Oh everybody knows
Be it not a test
As far as cabbages go
Mary’s got the best
All the men do stare
From stable boys to princes
But if they touch her pears
She’ll have them by the quinces
And if she sees you here
Your plums sure won’t last
So take your flagon of beer
And you better drink up fast
At some point Arthur lost Leon and found himself sitting next to Merlin.
“Nice song,” Arthur said, shocked at the slur in his words.
“Ah, it’s bloody awful it is, but it gets everyone drunk.”
“Have you ever met Mary?” Arthur asked stupidly. There surely must be someone else driving his brain, because it definitely wasn’t him anymore.
Merlin snorted. “If I did, I doubt she’d care about my plums.”
Arthur had no idea what he meant by that. Maybe he had also lost control of his brain.
“You don’t have much fun being prince, do you?” Merlin drawled.
Arthur shook his head. He never spoke of it with anyone, not even Morgana, but lately he had been starting to think more about the restrictions of his position.
“Can’t really,” Arthur replied. “Got to be all like . . .” He waved his hand, searching for the word. “Princey.”
Merlin spat out his ale, coughing and spluttering. Arthur slapped him on the back, at a loss for what to do. He caught his breath, flashing a grin.
“Even when you’re drunk you sound like a posh prat,” he chortled.
“Oi!” Arthur said, flicking Merlin’s ridiculously oversized ear.
Leon slumped into the seat on the other side of Arthur, clearly just as inebriated. For some reason, Arthur found himself disappointed at his friend joining them.
“Arthur, I do believe we’ve had too much to drink,” Leon hiccuped.
“I think Gaius will have something - we can get George to fetch it tomorrow,” Arthur replied.
The music from the fiddlers grew louder. Leon asked the barmaid for some water, fearful that the Prince of Camelot might be about to vomit his guts up in front of his subjects. Arthur felt better almost immediately, but he knew he would need Gaius’ special remedy in the morning.
He looked up to see Merlin and a young chap called Kay, who was one of the twenty chosen, dancing what could have possibly been an Irish jig on one of the tables, cheered on by a few of the other lads. Kay was young, probably the youngest, but was very fit and took on Arthur’s feedback hungrily, improving in leaps and bounds just in that first session.
They were sloshing ale over the crowd below, kicking up their feet and swinging their cups.
Of course, that’s when the clumsy oaf slipped on the side of the table and crashed to the ground.
Arthur was out of his seat in an instant, rushing over to where the crowd was gathered. Thankfully Merlin was lying on his back, but laughing.
“Alright, alright, nothing to see here,” Arthur said, trying to use his most authoritative voice. It must have worked as the crowd flowed away, leaving him to haul a giggling Merlin to his feet.
“Oh, Gwaine is going to be so angry,” Merlin said, examining his arm where the bandage was unravelling out of his sleeve. “He always says I’m a clumsy drinker!”
“I think we better get you home,” Arthur said, spying his opportunity to also leave. He had fun, but the comfort of his bed was calling him.
The cold soaking rain sobered Arthur quickly. He could feel Merlin shivering against him, bumping against Arthur’s arm as he staggered happily down the road.
George was going to have a fit when he saw the state of his clothes. Oh well, the man loved laundry almost as much as he loved brass.
“Where do you even live?” Arthur asked.
“On top of the bakery,” Merlin laughed.
“Doesn’t that wake you up in the morning?”
Merlin let out a low groan. “Every morning! But we get the leftover bread, so that’s something.”
They arrived at the bakery - a tall stone building in the centre of the lower town. The rain started to ease, now just soft enough to stop their hair from drying.
“Are you sure you’re alright? You took a big tumble.”
“I’m fine, just clumsy.”
“Clumsy and drunk,” Arthur smirked, knocking his shoulder into Merlin. The slighter man bumped him back with surprising force. Arthur stumbled into a stack of crates, sending them clattering against the ground. The sound echoed through the dead night.
“Shhh!” Arthur hissed, pulling Merlin into the shadow of the narrow gap between the bakery and the tailor. He glanced back out into the street, forced to squash Merlin against the wall by another stack of larger crates. “If anyone finds me out here at this time of night and tells my father . . .”
Ice cold fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him forward. Wet lips just missed his own, sliding across his rain slicked jaw in search of their target. In the dark of the lane way, Arthur leaned in Merlin’s attempted kiss. He chased the warmth of Merlin’s mouth, one hand finding the back of his head to steady him while the other slipped down his soaked back. He pressed their bodies together, feeling as if the cold rain had turned to a hot bath as Merlin groaned into his mouth.
Why had he not wanted this? Why had he tried to ignore the feelings that had stirred when he first saw the plucky boy in the tavern brawl?
Just as his mind wandered far enough to wonder if they could go inside to Merlin’s room, the other boy pulled away. He let out a whine of disappointment. Even in the dark, Arthur could sense Merlin’s wide grin.
“What if your father heard of you doing this?” Merlin cheekily asked.
“He’d probably toss me in the dungeons,” Arthur said back in what he hoped was a hushed voice. To be honest, he wasn’t sure what his father would do. Certainly, he would be made to keep any illicit relations a secret, but he had heard of some nobles preferring their sons take a boy who can’t produce a bastard rather than a girl who could. Arthur had been lucky in the past not to cause a scandal, but he knew it was just that - luck.
Merlin leaned back in and kissed Arthur sliding his mouth along his jaw to a point on his neck where . . .oh . . . that felt . . .
Cold.
Arthur opened his eyes to see Merlin nimbly jumping over the crates towards a side door he hadn’t noticed further down the lane.
“Oi!” Arthur hissed, calling Merlin back. “Where are you going?”
Merlin let out a hearty chuckle. “To bed before Gwaine catches me.”
Arthur watched him disappear, then started the long walk back to the castle, hoping that he didn’t run into anyone with his wet trousers making it very difficult to hide the lewd thought lingering in his head.