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The capital is crowded. That was one thing Merlin learned early on upon moving to the large city. Coming from such a small farming town, hearing only rumors about how much money flowed through the city, Merlin is surprised at how much of what he has heard is true.
Money is everywhere. Constantly changing hands from employer to employee to mechant and so forth. Merlin thought his plan was stupid at best and nigh impossible at worst but now, looking at the traffic of such a place, he realizes that maybe he can actually do this.
This being, well… stealing.
Merlin’s mother hadn’t sent him to the city of Camelot (in the country of Camelot, which could be confusing to an outsider) to be a thief, but as soon as he’d heard the plan, the tales he'd heard all his life came rushing back to him. His mother had wanted him to find a job, possibly as a healer or apprentice with a merchant. Merlin figured his trade was close enough to a job, though he kept his letters to his mother vague and ended up sending her most of the coin he swiped.
For the first couple weeks, Merlin had worried about getting caught. But, he had quick fingers from practicing his card tricks and other sleight of hand show-offs that he used to use to entertain the young ones in his village. Because of this unintentional training, hardly anyone ever noticed him dipping into their coin purse, and if they did, his long legs made him quick enough to flee the angry person and even the guards if it went that far.
He keeps just enough coin to buy food to keep him from starving and the rest goes to his mother. The weather is warm enough that come early morning, after all the drunkards’ purses are a little lighter, Merlin is able to sleep in the forest just outside the city gates. (He’s found a few well-hidden passages that allow him to slip under the city wall, even though the gates are locked at night.)
It may not be the glamorous city life his mother wants for him, but it works, and that’s enough.
Until it isn’t.
~~~
Merlin pockets the single coin, cursing internally as he feels it’s the smallest one, not even worth a cheap bread roll. His blue eyes flit about, searching for his next target. His eyes catch on red fabric, expensive and bright. The blond haired man is well-dressed, he likely wouldn’t even notice a few silver coins leaving his purse. Based on his clothing and the proper way he holds himself, Merlin pegs him as a young knight, nobility. A pretty big risk with the possibility of a good payout.
His grumbling stomach makes the decision for him. He clenches his jaw and quickens his pace, drawing closer to the man walking ahead of him. The blond pauses, turns slightly and Merlin moves.
The bump is clean. The man’s coin purse is loose in his pocket and Merlin skims two coins off the top, sliding them in between fingers to avoid excess noise. He mutters a quiet apology and tries to keep walking, but he isn’t so lucky.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” The blond man protests and quickly grabs Merlin’s shoulder. Panic lances through him, but before he can run, he’s being roughly spun around. To his horror, the sharp movement flings the coins from his fingers and they clink together as they bounce off the man’s tunic and into the mud. Shit.
For a beat, they both look at the silver glinting on the ground.
“What the–?” The man frowns, gaze darkening. Merlin winces as his blue eyes snap up to meet his own. It’s no use to try to deny his actions.
“Arthur,” another man appears at the blond’s (Arthur’s) shoulder, “what’s going on here?”
Merlin swallows at the devilish grin that appears as the man painfully grips his shoulder.
“I think I’ve caught myself a pickpocket here, Leon.”
The other man startles and turns to the blond. Merlin’s eyes are quickly drawn to the sword on the man’s hip, and he gulps, abandoning his plans of running.
“What? What happened?”
“I’m just walking through the market, minding my own business, when this weasel bumps into me. When I grabbed him to make him apologize properly, to my surprise, I get hit with two silvers. And from the state of him,” Merlin tries not to flush with embarrassment as the man eyes his patchy clothes, “I would be correct in assuming that these are not yours. Does that sound right, street rat?”
Merlin presses his lips together, firmly but silently keeping eye contact with the man.
The other man sighs and digs through his bag to pull out a thick length of rope. Merlin keeps his silence as the man securely ties his hands together in front of him.
“What?” Arthur asks, “Got nothing to say for yourself?
“Seems like you’ve got it covered.” Merlin quips, testing the rope’s hold. Unfortunately, the knots were as tight as a sailor’s. The other man, Leon, gives him a warning glance while Arthur chuckles darkly.
“Keep that up and you may find yourself without a head.”
“And who are you to say what my punishment will be? The King?” Merlin snorts. Arthur grabs his bound wrists and tugs him forward sharply, hunching him over.
“No,” Arthur murmurs in his ear, “I’m his son.”
Merlin’s face becomes deathly white and he slams his mouth shut. His eyes dart over to Leon, who doesn’t deny the claim. Fuck. He just tried to pickpocket the goddamn prince of the country.
His panic fogs his head, making the journey to the castle fuzzy and unremarkable. The prince (the gods damned prince!) jokes with the second man as they march Merlin to his doom.
The doom in question turns out to be a jail cell under the castle. There’s only a bucket and a hefty pile of hay behind the bars until Merlin is added to the picture.
His hands are freed after the door squeaks shut and is locked.
“All right, street rat,” the prince addresses him, “you can think about your sad little life for the night. In the morning, my father will be deciding your proper punishment. Say your prayers, filth, the king isn’t known for his mercy.”
The prince chuckles to himself as he leaves, his blond hair flopping around stupidly beautifully. Merlin is caught between rage and fear and admiration of the prince's fine looks.
He takes a deep breath and sinks down into the hay pile, noting that it is no more comfortable than sleeping on the grass out in the forest. (Which is to say, not very comfortable at all.)
Eventually, he manages to fall into a light and fitful sleep. His stress about the coming day brings him anxiety-inducing dreams. The clearest memory of one such dream sticks with him long after he wakes.
In his dream, the king (a tall dark figure with an oddly pointy beard) sentences Merlin to burn at the stake for his crime. The image then shifts to where Merlin is high above a crowd, and the only clear face he sees is Prince Arthur. Flames engulf his vision and that is the last thing he can recall from the dream.
The morning finds Merlin with dark rings under his eyes and a sniffling nose from the hay dust he spent the evening slumbering in.
Instead of going to prison, Uther is merciful and gives Merlin a chance to be of service. If he works hard as an unpaid servant for one year, then Uther will give him a decent job with pay. He will get two meals a day. Any wrong-doings, and he will end up in prison with one less hand.
Arthur obviously hates this arrangement and gives Merlin tons of terrible chores and he overlooks his knights giving him a hard time as well.
Besides the servant's uniform and the two meals a day, Merlin gets nothing. Not money or lodging. He is mostly okay in the summer; it’s easy to sleep outside and wash up in a stream just out of town, but once it starts to get colder, he has more difficulties. Eventually Arthur notices that Merlin hasn’t been sleeping well and his hands are red and chapped from the cold. After making a snarky comment, he learns that Merlin doesn’t have a roof over his head. He feels even worse that it took him three months to realize this. Arthur snoops around, finding the guest rooms too opulent and out of the way and the servants quarters already over capacity. Eventually he learns of Gaius’s empty assistants’ room and kindly orders the physician to house his freezing manservant.
Merlin warily moves in. Gaius takes note of his meager belongings: his servant’s uniform, a spare set of clothes, a book on herbs, and a poorly-patched bag to hold it all.
“Where’s the rest of it?” He demands, peering around Merlin, like he was somehow hiding a trunk of items.
“Er, this is it, Sir Gaius.” Merlin replies. “I don’t need much, and it’s not like I’ve got the coin for it.”
“Hmph.” The old man grumbles, “Well, I’ll look into getting you the linens then. I assume you know how to make up the bed?” Merlin sheepishly smiles.
“I do now, sir. The prince is quite particular about his pillows; I imagine my own needn’t be so well dressed.”
The physician chuckles. “You’ve got cheek, boy. Don’t bother with that sir business with me, I come from humble beginnings much like you.”
“Alright, s–Gaius.” Merlin catches himself, internally wincing. The man sighs in a light manner.
“We’ll work on it.” Gaius fondly shakes his head as he exits the room, presumably to fetch someone to grab the linens.
Once he disappears down the hall, Merlin turns to survey the room he’s been given. The first thing he notices is the window, it’s too high up to properly look out of but it allows the sun’s rays to illuminate his quarters. He stares at the glass for several moments. Eventually he forces his blue eyes away from the window. (He’s never lived somewhere with a window and the novelty of it will not wear off for a while.)
There’s a bed. Not a straw pallet on the floor like he was imagining, but a true bed with a wooden frame and a stuffed mattress. He steps forward to gently run his fingers across it, marveling at the smooth wood.
“The wardrobe is behind you, next to the door.” Gaius’s voice startles him and he pulls his fingers back like he was burned. Merlin misses the frown on the physician’s face as he backs away from the bed.
“This…this is really all for me?” The dark haired man tentatively asks, not turning to look at the older man. Gaius steps forward and sets a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“If you want it, it’s yours.” He kindly says. “And the prince was quite insistent on the matter.”
Merlin sniffs. “Really? You sure we’re talking about the same prince? The snobby blond with an inflated ego?” Gaius ignores the break in the man’s voice and squeezes his shoulder.
“Between you and me, Prince Arthur is actually quite kind–deep down under his “inflated ego”.”
Merlin chuckles wetly and dashes his hand under his eyes.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get so emotional. It’s just…” He weakly waves his hand at the space. Gaius nods, patting his shoulder before letting go.
“It’s quite alright. I understand.” He glances out the window to judge the time. “For now, let’s set your things down and we can head down for supper.”
Merlin takes a steadying breath. “Yeah, yeah. That sounds good.”
He sets his bag at the foot of the wardrobe, not wanting to get dirt in it with his filthy clothes. He reminds himself to ask Gaius later if there’s some sort of laundry he can use. Merlin is smart enough to know he can’t possibly use the same washroom where he sends Arthur’s clothes to be cleaned.
Things get better. Merlin fills out now that he can get reliable food and not waste his excess energy on hunting down a place to sleep.
He and Arthur become grudging friends; Arthur asking for Merlin’s opinions on some social issues. “Merlin, you’re poor. Come and take a look at this.” “Hm, alright, sire.”
Before they know it, Uther announces that his year is up and he has performed well enough that Uther is prepared to offer him a job–another serving position, away from Arthur.
Merlin is worried that things will return to how they were before but Arthur interjects and says he’s gotten rather used to Merlin and wouldn’t mind terribly if he stuck around as his personal manservant.