Merthur One-shots

If You Love Me (Won't You Let Me Know?)

Summary: As Merlin tends to Arthur, the evening takes an unexpected - but welcome? - turn when his tired brain takes over for him.

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Merlin stumbled through the doors to Arthur's chambers. He winced when his bruised shoulder bumped against the side of the door, but he managed to keep the plates in his hands balanced and put them on the table.

"Arthur! Your dinner’s here," he said before turning around and starting to pick up the clothes scattered all over the room. How did the king manage to spread them all around every single day again?! You'd think he'd have at least a little dignity in his high function, but no. Just... clothes everywhere!

Muttering under his breath about arrogant nobles growing up with people cleaning up after them all the time, Merlin set to cleaning up the room while Arthur sat down at the table and dove into his food. Merlin did his utter best not to let Arthur notice the way he had trouble bending over and using his left arm. He wouldn't understand anyway; it's not like Merlin could tell him about his fight with that sorcerer, could he?

"Merlin. What's wrong with your arm?"

Oh fuck. What happened to the obliviousness?!

"Uh, nothing. I... fell down the stairs while... getting your... dinner." He winced at his own stupid excuse. Yeah, as if Arthur was going to believe that.

"Right... Well, be more careful next time, you need to be in good shape for the tournament tomorrow. You do remember I'm in the final, right? I'll need you there to don my armor."

Merlin rolled his eyes, sighing in relief quietly. He turned around to the king to see him watching as he scurried around the room.

"Of course I haven't forgotten. How could I forget you risking your life by swinging a sword at other men to 'prove your courage'?" Arthur scoffed at his air quotes without reacting to his words and then gestured with his head towards Merlin.

"Come sit with me for a minute. You look like you could fall over any second and you probably haven't eaten all day again. You're of no use to me if you fall unconscious."

Merlin shrugged and dropped the clothes he was holding in his hands back to the ground. He slouched in the chair Arthur was pointing at and stole some bread from the king's plate. He'd said he should eat something! What better food than the king's?

"You know why I have to participate in the tournament, Merlin. It's not just for the people. It's for me too. I need to prove to myself that I'm worthy of this crown, more than I need to prove that to the people." Arthur paused his eating to look Merlin in the eyes. The latter rolled his eyes and shrugged again. No matter how many times Arthur told him that same thing - namely, every single time there was a tournament, which was ridiculously often, in Merlin's humble opinion - he wouldn't change his attitude toward it.

Especially since the reason he was limping was because of the stupid tournament. If there hadn’t been a tournament, that sorcerer never would've come to Camelot, and then Merlin never would've had to stop him from trying to sabotage the whole ordeal.

Merlin yawned and Arthur shot him a look from across the table.

"Right. I think I'll turn in for the night. Tomorrow's a big day, and I'll need the energy. Prepare my bed, would you?"