Work Text:
Trash and Treasures
(Set season 2, after “The Lady of the Lake” but before “Sweet Dreams.”)
“…and when you’re done with the laundry and have finished mending my spring cloak like you should have done last week, Merlin, you can start working on going through all the junk that’s collected and piled up in the antechamber. It’s getting absolutely ridiculous.”
Merlin sighed – a long, put-upon sigh that he clearly intended for the prince to hear. “But why does it matter? It’s not like you even use that room,” he groused as he finished making the bed, mentally calculating everything he would have to do before he could collapse in his own that night.
“I should make you live there, like a proper servant,” Arthur returned, stepping away from the washbasin and scrubbing a towel across his dripping face and hair. “Then again, I’ve seen your room. You probably wouldn’t even notice the mess…”
“My point exactly,” Merlin said, giving the pillows a few half-hearted pokes and deciding they were good enough. “No one uses it, so why does it matter if stuff is stored there?”
“Keep complaining and you can clean out the antechamber after volunteering to be our practice dummy this afternoon…”
“Cleaning out your old junk sounds wonderful,” the servant said quickly, schooling his face into a picture of pure innocence he knew wouldn’t fool the prince but would at least set him laughing. “I can think of nothing I’d rather do this beautiful afternoon.”
As predicted, Arthur laughed and threw his towel at the boy, which Merlin easily ducked.
The two quickly fell into their normal morning routine – Merlin helped Arthur dress and then the prince ate while the servant scurried around the room, gathering laundry and giving at least an attempt at making things tidy. Arthur perused the papers from his desk, making note of anything pressing.
“Oh, and Merlin,” he said after a few moments to the pair of boots that were sticking out from under his bed – all he could see of the boy who had gone searching for missing socks. There was a muffled thud followed by a muttered groan and he smiled. “I also need you to run a few errands in the lower town today, before you start on the antechamber.”
Merlin slid out from beneath the bed, his face and hair covered in cobwebs and seven rogue socks clutched in one hand while the other massaged his now aching head.
“Cause the chore list wasn’t going to take me until midnight already…” he muttered.
“Practice. Dummy,” Arthur replied pointedly without looking up from his papers.
Merlin flopped dramatically on the floor. “Yes, sire. Your wish is my greatest desire, sire,” he said to the ceiling. A shadow suddenly blocked his light and Prince Arthur was there, standing over him. Several sealed letters fluttered down around his head and then a whole pile of dirty laundry landed on his chest before the prince crouched down. “Have fun,” he smirked, patting him on the head and then laughing heartily as he stood, gathered his sword, and left the room.
Merlin wondered if anyone would notice if he just stayed there.
*****
The afternoon shadows were stretching into evening before Merlin dragged his tired bones back to the prince’s rooms to start on the antechamber. The laundry had taken until well past noon, and he hadn’t even started on Arthur’s cloak yet, saving that to mend by candle-light when he finally got to go home. Then he’d had to run around the lower town like a chicken, delivering letters and picking up parcels from the list his master had left.
Shifting packages enough to free a hand for opening the door, Merlin walked in and gratefully dumped the whole load on the main table, where he planned to leave the lot of them right as they fell.
He glanced around, wondering if the prince was back yet, but the chambers were quiet and still. He had no idea what Arthur was up to or when he might return, but for once, Merlin didn’t mind.
It had only been a few short months since Freya’s death and the wound to his soul was still painfully raw. He did his best to never let anyone see, to hide his aching and bleeding heart – both to protect Arthur and his own secrets, but also because he knew he had to make himself move on – but sometimes the smiles and forced banter were too much. In those moments, a few hours of quiet solitude were the best gift he could be given.
Knowing it would be dark soon, he wandered the room, lighting the candles and re-kindling the fire. He could have done them all at once, with just a wave of his hand, but since Freya, his magic had been a little unpredictable, especially when he was in a pensive mood like tonight. Better not to risk it. Besides, he found there was something therapeutic about lighting them by hand. He snuffed out the taper and stretched his back before turning toward the almost concealed entrance to the antechamber.
“Guess I can’t put it off any longer,” he muttered to no one. “But I swear, if anything in there tries to kill me, I’m taking two days off.”
The amount of stuff stashed in the extra room was a little staggering. It wasn’t the mess that got to Merlin – heaven only knew he could never be accused of being a particularly neat and tidy person himself – it was the size of the piles. Having so many extra and unused possessions that they could fill a whole room was completely beyond the scope of his understanding. Everything the boy owned could be tucked into his small rucksack, and of those items the trinkets that were unnecessary for basic survival and kept just for pleasure fit into one small wooden box.
Merlin heaved a weary sigh then shook his head. Time was wasting and he really did want to go to bed before midnight, so he had better get busy. He picked a random corner and dug in, thoughts of a kind, dark-haired girl filling his mind as he worked.
A candle-mark later he paused for a break, flopping down cross-legged in the center of the room and surveying the chaos around him.
Why did it look worse now than when he’d started? It was as if the little room had exploded, spreading out into Arthur’s main chambers and even into the hall.
He had a pile of ruined armor and broken weapons next to the door, waiting for him to figure out what to do with them.
Could the royal armorer even fix chainmail with that many holes in it? And how had it gotten that way? Did Arthur dress up a straw dummy and then fill it full of arrows?
The two broken chairs and cupboard without any drawers he’d unearthed he’d dragged into the hall. He was going to need help to haul those away. Besides, he had no idea where to take them.
Did Camelot repair its broken furniture the way a peasant family would?
A stack of thick, warm blankets he’d collected sat on top of the small cot that stayed in the antechamber. Those would come in handy in six months when the weather turned chilly and Arthur started complaining incessantly about cold feet at night.
The three bedrolls that he’d found mixed in with them were another story. They should have been returned to Steward months ago, and showing up to return them would probably earn Merlin a tongue lashing. Maybe he could just not request any the next time Arthur went on patrol, and then return these as if he’d taken them like normal?
He also planned to sneak the mound of assorted dirty dishes he’d uncovered back into the kitchen in the middle of the night sometime… He had no desire to feel Cook’s wrath for failing to return every dish promptly, and knew she’d never believe the hoard wasn’t his fault. For now, he stacked the lot on the end of the table, away from the packages he’d dumped there earlier, hoping Arthur might feel a tiny bit of shame for the mess when he finally came back to his rooms.
There was also a huge pile of clothes waiting on the prince’s bed. Some of it them were stained or ruined, some probably no longer fit the royal, but some items Merlin suspected Arthur had “lost” on purpose, like the very flowery tunic that had been a gift from some visiting Lord about six months ago. Merlin had wondered where that had gone.
The servant got up and wandered over to the bed again, holding up a pair of breeches that only had one small hole in the knee, eying it with calculated thought. Maybe he could convince Arthur to let him take a few things, especially if it was all destined for the rag pile anyway. With that new idea in mind, Merlin sorted the clothing stack a second time, creating a small pile of things he hoped the prince might let him have. In a moment of absolute optimism, he added one of the warm blankets to the pile as well, then went back to work. Maybe if Arthur was really impressed with how much he’d gotten done by the time he returned, he’d be in a highly charitable mood…
During the next candle-mark, Merlin found an old, smelly straw tick that needed to be chucked, enough dust bunnies to start a colony, and three crossbows that Sir Leon had been looking for. He also found several books that he knew Geoffery was missing because he’d been yelled at about their disappearance. Merlin was going to make Arthur himself return those. Bad enough he was going to get blamed for the bedrolls, dirty dishes, and weapons.
He also found SO much parchment and paperwork. Stuffed in sacks and drawers and boxes. Under the cot and beneath an ancient, rolled up rug.
“Nice try, Arthur,” he muttered as he collected it all, smoothing it out and arranging it neatly on the Prince’s desk. “But we all have our duties. I get to wash your socks and breeches. You get to do your paperwork.”
Merlin was sure he would hear all about it tomorrow when the prince sat down to work on things, but he shouldn’t have tried to make it disappear, then ordered Merlin to clean out the room where he hid it. Served him right.
Finally, he only had several trunks of various sizes pushed against the far wall left to go through, and then a good clean-up of the room.
The light in the antechamber was too dim to see well, so Merlin grabbed the first trunk – a smaller, wooden one with a fancy latch– and dragged it into the main chamber, before kneeling beside it and opening the lid to find out what junk this one held.
“Oh!” he breathed, the word slipping out unbidden, as he laid eyes on the wonders inside the box.
The trunk was full of toys.
A wooden sword and shield. Wooden people, carefully carved and brightly painted. Animals and creatures, expertly crafted from leather and wood. Carved tops and whistles, puppets and puzzles…
All packed away with great care, unlike the rest of the debris thrown haphazardly into the antechamber.
Transfixed, Merlin sat back on his heels and reached a hand carefully into the dark space, bringing one of the treasures out into the light.
It was a knight, with armor and a tiny sword!
He pulled a few more toys from the trunk.
There were horses and wagons! Bears and stags and boars! More knights, fair ladies, and even a crimson dragon!
Before he knew what he was doing, Merlin had a whole battle set up on Arthur’s floor, Camelot red fighting the hapless blue knights, the majestic dragon swooping through the air to aid Camelot’s cause! The dragon had just picked up an evil blue knight to dump in the pit of dirty laundry, thus saving the beautiful princess, when the door to the chambers swung open and Arthur entered the room.
*****
Arthur looked around his chambers as he entered after a long meeting with his father in shock. There was stuff piled everywhere! Dishes, books, dented helmets and broken spears, a mound of clothing… Broken furniture had even been pulled out into the corridor. And right in the center of the floor, sitting by an open trunk, was his manservant holding –
“What are you doing with those?” he cried, striding into the room as irrational panic shot through him. He told Merlin to get rid of the junk in that room, but he’d forgotten about that trunk, and surely Merlin wouldn’t throw it away! Not those things!
“Arthur!” Merlin jumped to his feet, looking extremely guilty as he stuffed both his hands behind his back. “I was…cleaning. Lots of cleaning. So much rubbish to…to clean,” the young man stammered.
Arthur stopped on the other side of the open trunk from his servant and glanced down at the floor.
The knights were out, red facing blue. And all the animals and carts. The maidens were huddled behind a pair of boots. It looked just like…
“Merlin, are you playing with those?” he asked, panic suddenly replaced by humor.
“No!” the teen shouted defensively. “I am not!”
“Show me your hands,” the prince ordered, a grin spreading across his face.
“No, my hands are perfectly normal right now, why do you need to see them? Just – ”
“Merlin.”
The boy sighed and brought his hands back around him. One clutched a blue night and one Arthur’s old dragon.
“Ha!” Arthur laughed. “You WERE playing!”
“Not for long,” Merlin deflated, sinking back to his knees and holding the toys almost reverently on his lap, staring at them as if they were more precious than gems. “They’re just…wonderful. And I wanted to try it before…”
“Before what? You aren’t planning on throwing that trunk out, are you?” Arthur asked quickly, eyes narrowing.
“What? No! How could anyone think of throwing these away!” Merlin replied just as fast, starting to collect all the scattered toys and put them carefully away. “There’s a lot of useless stuff in that room that needs to disappear, but I would never throw these out.”
Arthur sat on his desk chair and pulled off his boots with a grateful sigh while Merlin finished packing the little figures away and closed the trunk, standing up. The prince noticed that his stacks of paperwork seemed to have grown far too much, but he decided not to think about that until tomorrow.
“What did you mean by ‘wanted to try it’,” Arthur asked, suddenly remembering the last bit Merlin had said.
“Just…well…” his servant hedged, sounding unsure as he tugged the trunk over to the wall by the wardrobe, out of the way and not in danger of getting accidentally tossed out. “I always wondered what it was like to play with toys. I guess I just wanted to try it once.”
“Hang on,” Arthur said, sitting up straighter in confusion. “There’s no way you didn’t play with toys when you were younger. You’re so wet behind the ears, you were probably still playing with them last year, truth be told.”
Merlin shook his head, ears suddenly flushing red. “I never had…well, it was just me and mother see! And there wasn’t a lot of extra…or time…or…”
He trailed off and didn’t finish, never really spitting out the thing he was trying to say, but Arthur heard it anyway. He gapped at his friend.
“Merlin, are you telling me you never had a toy?”
His servant turned away, busying himself with a pile of clothes lying on the bed. “Oh, it’s not the end of the world. I played all kinds of games with sticks and rocks and I was fine. Now, look what I found. I’m sure you’ll be glad to have this back in your wardrobe!” The boy held up the hideous flowered tunic that Arthur had hoped never to see again with mortal eyes. “Shall I put it out for you to wear tomorrow?”
“If you do, the stocks will be occupied all afternoon tomorrow, by a skinny kid who should have known better,” Arthur grumbled, launching himself from the chair to try and take the offensive garment from Merlin, who was dancing just beyond his reach.
Needless to say, no more work got done that night.
*****
It took Merlin a few days to finish sorting out the built-up mess in the antechamber. Arthur tried to be patient as he stepped around piles and boxes, knowing that the boy really was trying and still had to keep up with his regular chores as well.
To help out, prince himself magnanimously returned the books – apologizing to Geoffery – and even took pity on Merlin and had a different servant take the extra bedrolls away.
All through the process, Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about catching Merlin with his trunk of old toys.
Merlin had not been himself for a long time – months really. He thought he was hiding it, but Arthur could tell something was wrong. He didn’t joke or smile nearly as often, and when he did, it never reached his eyes. Arthur wished Merlin trusted him enough to tell him what was wrong, but the boy never did – just pretended all was fine and went on with his work.
But in those few moments when Arthur had walked in on Merlin playing with the old toys, he’d seen a spark of the old Merlin back in his friend.
The piles and debris from the antechamber shifted around each day as Merlin made progress cleaning, hauling things away, and organizing what stayed behind – but the trunk with the toys remained right where Merlin had first left it.
Arthur opened it again himself the next day, and noticed that the red dragon was lying carefully on top.
He could have sworn Merlin put the dragon away first when they were talking…
Curious, Arthur checked the trunk again a few days later.
The toys were mixed around again – dragon still on top, but on the other side now.
Arthur dragged the chest back into the now cleaned antechamber and tucked it safely under the extra cot.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Merlin had never had a toy.
Arthur had a whole trunk of them from his childhood.
Merlin was almost eighteen summers – far too old to be thinking about toys.
But he’d never had one.
And Arthur couldn’t figure out why that bothered him so badly.
*****
“Merlin, will you stop by the Steward’s office first thing tomorrow? Make sure everything is ready for the early patrol? And don’t forget to request a bedroll for yourself this time, idiot. I will have absolutely no pity if you shiver all night because you forgot.”
Merlin finished stacking Arthur’s super dishes on the tray as the prince rattled off his orders.
“Told you we should have just kept the ones I found in there last week,” Merlin said, pointing toward the almost empty antechamber.
“Merlin, I think I left those in there after a rainy hunting trip when I was fifteen. I don’t think you’d have wanted to open them, let alone sleep in them…”
Merlin shuddered. “You do know you’re a slob, right?”
“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t talk to me like that?” Arthur replied, a grin forming at the teasing that had become almost a refrain with them.
“Sorry. Royal slob. That better?” Merlin shot back, grinning as well. “Will that be all, Your Royal Slobbyness? Want to get an early start and all that…”
“One more thing,” Arthur said, tossing a sack at him. Merlin caught it, eyeing him curiously.
“What’s this?” he asked. He was sure he’d finished cleaning and putting away everything he’d pulled out of the extra room. The laundry was done and sorted… He was caught up on mending… And it was far too light to be armor to polish.
“Just some old clothes and a ratty blanket you can have, if you like,” Arthur said, all indifference as he tugged off his tunic from the day and tossed it on the floor.
Merlin beamed. That meant Arthur had decided to give him the stack of things after all! “Thank you, sire!” he said, really meaning it this time.
“Just don’t be late in the morning or I’ll take it all back. Now get out of here and let me get to sleep.”
One small side trip to drop off the dirty dishes in the kitchen later, and Merlin was back in his own little room. Excitedly, he undid the drawstring on the sack and upended it on his bed, wondering if Arthur had decided to let him have everything he’d set aside in the pile.
A few tunics and old pairs of breeches tumbled out, along with the blanket and a stained pair of warm gloves. But that wasn’t it. Among the folds of cloth there was something small and crimson, made of leather and wood.
Merlin picked it up, eyes widening in shock.
It was Arthur’s old toy dragon – the one he’d been unable to resist looking at several times until Arthur had put his box of treasures away.
In the sack of things Arthur had just given away – to his servant.
Merlin sank to the edge of his bed, reverently holding the well-loved toy.
That Arthur had just given to him.
He was glad he’d closed the door to his room. He didn’t want anyone else to see him, at almost eighteen summers, crying over a little, red toy.
*****
“Merlin!” Arthur cried, pushing open the door to the infirmary, hoping to find his wayward servant, but the room was empty. He walked through the tower room and up the short set of steps to Merlin’s bedroom, not really expecting to find the boy, but he’d already come this far so he might as well check.
As he suspected, the bedroom was both a mess, and empty of human life.
Arthur sighed.
The last few months had been hard.
On everyone.
A dragon attack and a dead dragonlord.
Camelot attacked and Morgana being taken.
Everyone had changed, but Merlin most of all. Gone was the clumsy, innocent boy from Ealdor who had crashed his way into Arthur’s life. He’d grown up, replaced by a much more serious young man who guarded his words and kept too many secrets. Arthur didn’t know what those secrets were, but he knew Merlin had them. They existed in an ever-widening gulf between them that Arthur desperately wished he knew how to bridge.
“At least the fact that he’s still an utter mess hasn’t changed,” Arthur muttered to himself, looking around the disaster of a bedroom until his eyes landed on the windowsill and he suddenly paused.
Two little figures sat there, obviously in places of honor. An old wooden and leather dragon, painted crimson, and a newly whittled white dragon of plain wood.
One Arthur knew very well, the other he’d never seen before, but the two together sent a random spark through him. Somehow, though he had no idea why, the sight of those two little toys, obviously loved and cherished, gave him hope.
Maybe not everything had changed.
Maybe his best friend was still there, despite the growing secrets and widening distance.
Maybe they could still belong together, like an old red dragon and new little white one sitting on a sunlight shelf.
Arthur turned around and left the room to keep looking for his servant and friend.