#arthur shouting YOU HAD GAIUS DRUG ME!! with gaius still in the room

[adhd-merlin]

[wordsablaze]

21~ Laced Drink

Magic and Misery Merlin might use magic to help Arthur but he rarely uses it to help himself, which leads to an awful lot of misery… written for whumptober, enjoy!

A/N: this one was pretty fun for me so it may not be for you, just saying ^.^

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Merlin doesn’t drink.

Although Arthur seems to think otherwise because Gaius keeps using the tavern as an excuse to cover up mysterious absences, Merlin hates the very idea of being intoxicated. 

He’s only ever had alcohol to stop Arthur being poisoned and occasionally when he’s come across Gwaine, who sometimes doesn’t let him go until he’s had a small sip. 

So naturally, when Arthur invites him to a tavern party for a drink, Merlin politely declines.

Or rather, tries to politely decline. 

“Oh, come on, Merlin,” Arthur all but whines, “you’re always at the tavern anyway!”

“I am not!” Merlin argues, folding his arms. 

Arthur makes a face. “Sure. Whatever you say. But I can’t very well attend the event on my own, can I?” 

Merlin sighs. “Can’t you get some of the Knights to go with you?” 

“And have the rest of them complain that I play favourites?” Arthur scoffs, as if Merlin had suggested that he jump off a cliff. 

“I’m sure they’d understand-”

“I think you should be the one to understand that it would be easier if my manservant were to come with me.”

Merlin glares at the interruption but sighs again, knowing he won’t win this argument. And anyway, it’s an evening full of people that could potentially want to hurt Arthur so it could actually be in his benefit to go.

“Alright, fine. I’ll attend your weird party,” Merlin agrees. 

Arthur positively beams at him. “Great! Make sure you wear something nice.” 

“I’m your manservant, Arthur, I don’t need to look fancy,” Merlin points out, picking up the laundry basket as he rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, well… you don’t want Camelot to be known for having… strangely dressed… royal servants, do you?”

Internally laughing at Arthur’s inability to articulate his thoughts, Merlin just shakes his head. “Certainly not.” 

As he leaves for the night, Merlin wonders if it had been such a good idea to agree with Arthur so quickly. While an evening filled with princes from different kingdoms could pose a threat, he’s just not sure about being surrounded by alcohol; it never seems to end well. 

 “The things I do for you, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin grumbles to himself as he finishes up his chores and heads to bed.

He almost forgets all about it, what with wrestling Arthur out of bed, helping the Knights during their training, running delivery errands for Gaius, and trying to bargain some bread from a cook because he’d forgotten to eat breakfast.

“Merlin, have you seen my- are you eating?” Arthur demands as he walks into his chambers, forgetting what he was looking for.

Swallowing the last of his bargained bread, Merlin gives him a sheepish smile. “Not anymore, why?”

Arthur just sighs. “I can’t find my sword.” 

Confused, Merlin glances at the sword in his hand.

Expectedly, Arthur rolls his eyes. “My other sword, Merlin. The one I always take to events like the one tonight. Or have you forgotten about that?” 

Groaning, Merlin brushes the crumbs off his hands and takes the sword from Arthur. “That sword’s not left the armoury for weeks, it’ll be covered in dust.” 

“Well, you’d better go clean it then.” 

Only mildly irritated, Merlin goes about doing just that, not seeing Arthur again until they set off for the remote tavern open only to the nobility, supposedly safe from chaos. 

“Do I really have to go in with you?” Merlin asks once they arrive, already disliking the noise coming from within the building.

Arthur just grabs his arm and pulls him along, only letting go when they’re inside and greeting people Merlin couldn’t care less about. 

As Arthur sinks into the mix of polite chatter and slightly obnoxious jokes, Merlin busies himself with getting Arthur a drink when he needs one or otherwise staying at the edges of the room so he can observe everyone. 

It goes well until Arthur calls him over and one of the other princes buys a round of drinks, a round of drinks that Merlin seems to be included in.

The other prince’s servant seems delighted and doesn’t hesitate to accept his drink but Merlin just fiddles with his glass, not comfortable with his presence being so obviously acknowledged.

“Come on, Merlin, one drink won’t kill you,” Arthur laughs, nudging him.

Merlin smiles hesitantly. “I don’t want to end up drunk… Sire.” 

“Oh, go on!” the other prince urges, glancing at Arthur. “I’m sure Arthur won’t mind you being a little slow at getting him a new drink.” 

Sighing and not wanting to make a fuss, Merlin takes a sip of the wine. It tastes strange, an odd mix of sickly sweet and oddly bitter, but he’s not knowledgeable enough to know how it’s meant to taste so he just ignores it. 

Of course, Arthur accidentally on purpose nudges him again and he ends up pouring half the glass down over himself. Once he’s finished spluttering, he shoots Arthur a pointed glare even if he’s grateful that it means there’s less wine he actually needs to drink. 

The other prince seems satisfied too, turning back to Arthur and laughing at his own manservant. 

“I’ll just go and clean myself up, then,” Merlin mumbles to himself, putting the glass down. 

Arthur smiles at him as he gets up, possibly a little tipsy. “Don’t take too long!” 

Telling himself that Arthur’s safety and smiles are worth it, Merlin heads outside, where he knows there’s a water pump he can use to try and wash the wine out of his soaked shirt. He stumbles as he goes but chalks it down to bumping into other tipsy nobles. 

It’s not until he gets outside that he realises something’s wrong. 

He can’t see properly.

Everything is slightly blurry and he can’t focus his vision.

Frowning, he tries to find the wall to lean on but ends up falling over, misjudging his surroundings entirely and landing on the ground with a dull thud.

“No, no…” Merlin breathes, pushing himself up.

Confusion takes over and he finds his thoughts twisting, tangling.

He has to get to Arthur. 

If he’s been drugged, because he must have been drugged somehow, there’s a chance Arthur’s suffering the same fate and he has to help, has to get back.

Blinking rapidly as everything suddenly becomes louder, Merlin groans, struggling to pull himself to his feet but just about managing, taking a moment to steady his shaking knees.

He doesn’t get very far, though, because someone grabs his arm, steering him the other way, the wrong way.

“No, wait... Arth-”

“Arthur doesn’t know how lucky he is,” someone says, and it takes Merlin far too long to realise it’s the prince that had offered him a drink. 

Oh no.

The round of drinks must have been a set-up of some sort. Merlin can’t figure out why he hadn’t gone after Arthur - if he had, Merlin could and would probably have saved him by now and all of it wouldn’t matter anyway. 

Merlin struggles but he can barely feel his limbs so he can’t resist being pulled along as the prince carries on, “To have such a loyal and... pretty manservant and to take it for granted…”

Any other day, Merlin would agree that his loyalty should at least get him a day off but he’s too confused to say anything, all his energy wasted on trying to turn around, even if he can’t even tell which way he’s meant to be going anymore.

“I h’v to… Arth’r…” Merlin slurs, groaning as his head starts aching, his arm stinging from where he’s being dragged along.

“Arthur’s probably too drunk to know what he’s missing,” the other prince scoffs, his footsteps echoing in Merlin’s ears like physical blows.

Maybe this time, it wasn’t directly Arthur’s life in danger at all. Maybe it was his. Who would have known?

“Wait…” 

Merlin is once again cut off as the other prince laughs. “Wait? I’ve been waiting all night for you two to finally separate, nobody warned me how hard it would be!” 

He wants to protest that he can’t be separated from Arthur because his destiny says otherwise but he feels a weird kind of sick and doesn’t want to accidentally mutter a spell instead so he keeps his mouth shut, trying not to trip over his own feet as they speed up.

He can’t do magic, he can’t reveal his magic, he can’t use magic, he can’t-

He trips over something.

With a cry, he hits the ground again, the other prince hissing something at him as he’s yanked back to his feet and they carry on walking.

Where are they even going?

Merlin just wants to go back to Arthur. 

Who was Arthur again?

Oh, right: his other half.

“Need… Oth’ Ha’f…” Merlin manages, trying to get his arm free again. 

The other prince just laughs at him, tightening his grip and making Merlin whimper as they speed up. He still doesn’t know where they’re going. But he knows Arthur won’t be there. 

“Sto’… Pl’s... ” Merlin tries, almost surprised when they do actually stop walking.

“Listen to me,” the prince orders, shaking his shoulders and making the world wobble painfully, “you’re my servant now. Arthur doesn’t matter anymore. Do you understand?”

Automatically, Merlin nods.

Then he shakes his head despite the pain. 

That can’t be right; he was born to be Arthur’s servant, he can’t serve someone else and especially not someone who’d drugged his drink. 

“No, Ar’ur…” Merlin moans, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“What did he do to make you so loyal?” 

Merlin grins lazily at that, forcing his eyes to open even though it makes no difference because everything is hazy and he can’t even see the prince right in front of him, never mind figure out where they are or where they’re going.  

“M’s be mag’c…” he whispers softly. 

And then everything is golden.

And the world is stopping.

And there’s a prince yelling in shock.

And someone’s being thrown into a wall.

And the world starts spinning again.

And people are shouting something.

And somebody is collapsing.

Oh, wait.

That’s Merlin.

Merlin is collapsing.

Thump.

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dun dun dunnn... 

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