Author's Note: One of my readers asked me to address in a fic why Merlin doesn't have a seat at the Round Table, so here's my answer. I completely forgot who asked me , so if you are reading this and you were the one who requested it, I will totally give you credit, just let me know!

"Have you seen the state of these boots?"

"Yeah."

"Well, go and get something to clean them."

"Why? They're your boots."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"I thought you believed in equality."

"I'm sorry?"

"At the Round Table, you said..."

"Shut up, Merlin."

Arthur had risen late with a groan and a grumble. Merlin had tried to coax him out of bed earlier, but in the end gave up without a fight. The previous day had been long, full of tedious meetings that made Arthur more irritable than usual. Nothing today was too pressing and Merlin decided he could let his friend have a little lie in. So Merlin had breakfasted with Gwen instead, always a pleasant experience, a time he felt more free. Not that he held his tongue around Arthur much, but Gwen knew what it was like to be a servant and could understand him in a way the king never would.

Now, though, the king had to rise and Merlin had employed a feather that had escaped from a pillow, dangling it into Arthur's ear until it tickled too much and he'd risen, his mood initially foul as he beat Merlin with the likely pillow the feather had come from. But the assault had gotten Arthur's blood racing, waking him fully, and Merlin only grinned as he set the pillow back in its place and reassembled the bed.

"Lunch is on the table," Merlin mentioned to the king behind the dressing screen.

"Not breakfast?" Arthur muttered.

"You slept late."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"I tried. You threatened to send me to the dungeon."

"Did I?"

"You weren't thinking straight."

"Perhaps I was," Arthur's voice returned snidely.

"You wouldn't make it a day without me."

"Oh wouldn't I?"

"Who'd clean your room? Or do your laundry? Or scrub your floor?"

"George."

Merlin didn't miss a beat. "I'll go get him then."

Arthur appeared from behind the screen, striding out to halt his manservant with a hand to his chest. "No need, Merlin. I can put up with you for today." He smiled, in a much better mood, and sat down at the table to eat.

Merlin turned around, smiling himself. He puttered about picking up stray clothing and objects to return them to their proper places. As he passed Arthur's desk, his eye happened to flick to a large parchment laid upon it. He paused, peering down at a diagram of some kind. His eyes widened. "What's this?"

"Hm?" Arthur inquired, his mouth full. He looked over his shoulder.

Merlin picked up the parchment. "This."

"Oh. Table. For the grand hall." Arthur went back to eating.

Merlin paced over to him, the parchment grasped in both hands as he studied it. "Plans for crafting one," he spoke thoughtfully.

"Remember the castle of the ancient kings? When we sat at their table? It's a good philosophy, equality in all things. I want those whose counsel I respect to know I value them as much as myself."

Merlin slowly grinned. "It's a great thing, Arthur."

"I'm glad you approve," Arthur spoke around a slice of bread stuffed in his mouth. "Not that I need your consent."

"So—Who will sit at it?"

"Gwen. Leon. Elyan. Percival. Gwaine. Other knights. An adviser or two. I suppose Gaius at times."

Me? Merlin prompted internally. "Anyone else?"

Arthur didn't look up from his meal. "That's it. People I trust."

Merlin waited, but Arthur didn't continue. He firmed his jaw. "Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?"

Arthur didn't even give him the decency of a glance. "No. You may go."

"Do you know what Arthur's planning?" Merlin blurted out the moment he arrived in Gaius' chambers.

Gaius continued to monitor the boiling of a medicine on his worktable. "No, but I suspect you're going to tell me."

"A table. For the grand hall. A large, big, wide, stupid, round table!"

Gaius looked up, eyebrow already raised. "And this has you wrathfully pacing my chambers?"

Merlin continued his agitated steps, running a hand through his hair "I cook. I clean. I get down on my hands and knees and scrub his floors. I polish his armor and brush his boots. I follow him on hunts and patrols. I take blows, get knocked out, drugged, tied up, stomped on, sick..."

"Is there a point to this rant?"

Merlin stopped, facing his mentor with seething eyes. "I've done everything for him and he doesn't even give me a seat!"

"At the table?" Gaius asked.

"Everyone he trusts is going to sit at it. You're going to be there some times!"

"It's an advisers' table, then."

"But his is going to be a table of equality. Round."

Gaius' expression resolved into his typical grimness when he recognized the reason for Merlin's upset. "You're a servant. Why would Arthur seat you there?"

"Oh, I don't know," Merlin remarked scornfully, "because I was at the first one!"

"Merlin..."

"He wanted me there at the castle of the ancient kings. Then we come back here and it's the same. Nothing's changed."

"Merlin..."

"What's the point? He's never going to get it."

"Sit. Down. Merlin."

Merlin slumped onto a stool, long arms dangling limply at his sides, face twisted in anger.

Gaius lowered himself to a stool across from him and laid a hand on his knee. "First, Arthur doesn't know most of what you've done on his behalf."

"But..."

Gaius held up a finger. "And he is king. He must uphold the decorum of the court. His words will be judged harshly by many. Already he has taken a servant as a wife. There are those who view him with disdain. So to seat you at that table..."

Merlin stared at Gaius as the old man paused to let the truth sink in. "I'd take away his credibility."

"I'm afraid so, my boy."

Gaius patted his knee and rose to return to his work.

Merlin sighed loudly. He understood, but he didn't have to like it.

"Merlin! Merlin!"

"Gaius...Shove off."

"You're going to be late."

"I'm always late," Merlin muffled into his pillow.

"For the first official meeting of the Round Table?"

Merlin shot out of bed. He hadn't meant to take a nap. He'd just been so tired after the morning's chores and had lain down for a second that had somehow morphed into two hours. He couldn't be late today of all days. Today Arthur was going to announce and dedicate the table, explain its purpose. He was supposed to be there because the king might need to send him on an errand or call for refreshment.

Merlin groused as he flung open his trunk, drawing out fresh clothing and yanking it on. He'd done his best to make his peace with Arthur's decision concerning who was worthy to sit at the table, but still, it stung. He knew Arthur had noticed something off. He's tried to not to let his feelings show in the king's presence, but his conversation had probably been less than stellar the way Arthur searched him with his eyes as if trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

I'm a servant. Just a servant, Merlin chanted to himself as he left his room and rushed through Gaius' chamber. The physician was gone, already headed to his own seat at the table. Merlin had barely made it to the spiral staircase when other thoughts intruded. I'm not just a servant. I'm a sorcerer, his sorcerer. It's all for him, every bit of it. He can trust me more than anyone, and he doesn't even know it.

Merlin ran faster. He didn't want to interrupt Arthur's speech and embarrass the king at the very first meeting of the table. That certainly would confirm why he'd never sit next to his king. He'd just turned a corner to take a short cut when he ran headlong into Leda, a pretty little maid new to the castle.

"Oh! Merlin!" she cried out, dropping the linens she carried.

"Sorry," Merlin apologized quickly, reaching down to recover the linens and shove them back into her arms.

"It's all right. I'm glad I saw you. A gift came for the king and I didn't see him, but I thought he should know, so can you tell him."

Merlin peered down at her. "Gift?"

She nodded.

"I inspect all gifts."

"Oh. I didn't know."

Ever since Arthur had received a poisoned dagger, Merlin had taken it upon himself to check any package that came near the king. Twice he'd found tainted wines. He hadn't told Arthur. His friend had enough on his mind without adding more worries.

"Who sent it?"

"I'm not sure. He didn't give his name."

"It didn't come by messenger?" That was unusual.

Leda shook her head. "A man brought it."

"Did you see his face?"

He wore a hood."

Merlin's jaw tightened. Why was it only he ever seemed to find things suspect? "Did you open it?"

"No! I wouldn't. Besides, he said only the king should open it."

Warning bells pealed in Merlin's mind. He glanced in the direction of the grand hall, then turned. He wasn't that far from Arthur's chambers. He could run, check it out, and be at the hall in a few minutes.

The gift turned out to be a small, rectangular wooden box. Merlin approached it cautiously, scrutinizing the size and the ornate craftsmanship. It didn't look harmful, but then they never did.

Merlin picked it up. He turned it over in his hands. No sharp objects sticking out. Good so far. He set it down on the table. A clasp clicked as he undid the lid. Then everything fell into chaos.

Something broke loose and sailed through the air. Merlin felt a prick through his neckerchief. He threw his hand to his neck, grasping a hardened creature. As he jerked it away, whatever had poked him slid out of his skin. "Forbaerne!" The thing burst into flames in his hand and with a short pop burned to a crisp.

Merlin blinked his eyes. The room was fast becoming fuzzy. He stumbled towards the door. He met no one in the halls as he retraced his steps back to Gaius' chambers. He barely made it up the staircase, buckling to his knees at the top. He dragged himself through the door and pushed to a stand at the table. His eyes roamed Gaius' shelves and medicines, trying to read labels through hazy vision. This one, he thought. He downed it all.

Merlin collapsed on all fours. He tried to breathe. His skin burned. He sank down and closed his eyes to oblivion.

"Merlin? Merlin!"

Merlin flinched at the hand that lightly slapped his cheek. His eyes flicked open. "Gaius?"

"My boy!"

Merlin moaned and pushed himself up.

"What happened?"

Merlin touched his neck and winced as his fingertips brushed a sore spot. "Gift for Arthur."

Gaius knelt down, pushing Merlin's hand out of the way to view the small puncture wound. Merlin felt the physician press gingerly. "Gift? These are the marks of the hellfire scorpion. It's deadly." Gaius held a bottle in front of Merlin's eyes. "You drank this?"

Merlin nodded.

"Wise choice. How did you know?"

"It felt right. Might have recalled you lecturing about its properties once."

Gaius shook his head, marveling. "Why didn't you come get me?"

"This was closer."

"What happened to the scorpion?"

"I killed it."

Gaius sighed and turned to sit next to his ward. "Arthur may not say it, but I will. You deserve a seat at the Round Table."

"I'm all right, then?" Merlin asked, rubbing at his eyes, grateful his vision had returned to normal.

"I believe so."

Merlin stretched his neck. "Is Arthur mad I'm late?"

"You're not late. You missed the meeting altogether."

Merlin made to jump up, but groaned and sagged back down. "I missed it?"

Gaius nodded.

"Arthur's going to kill me!"

"He didn't look pleased. He kept glancing at the door. Probably for you."

Great. Not only didn't he get to sit at the table, now he was going to get a lecture for not even being present to stand behind it.

Merlin slunk down the hallway towards Arthur's chamber. Gaius had insisted he rest for at least an hour as a precaution, not caring that it delayed his groveling back to Arthur. The king, Gaius explained, would be angry regardless and it was more important to make sure there were no aftereffects from the sting.

Merlin hesitated in front of Arthur's door. He rarely knocked, but this time felt he should. He gently rapped on the door.

"Come," Arthur's voice called out.

Merlin inhaled deeply. He pushed open the door, head bowed, then closed it behind him. He turned slowly. "Sire, forgive me. I..." He stopped, staring in shock at Arthur sitting on the floor. "What are you doing?"

Arthur didn't look up from his task. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Merlin blinked and tried to get words he'd never thought he'd say out of his mouth. "Cleaning your own boots."

"You're a genius, Merlin," Arthur drawled, brushing vigorously.

"It's...a little rough," Merlin stammered, not knowing what else to say. "You'll wear down the leather faster."

Arthur glared up at him and nodded his head at the table. "What's that?"

Merlin glanced at the empty wooden box on the table. "A gift for you."

"From?"

"Anonymous."

"Ah." Arthur gestured with the brush. "Come sit." He went back to cleaning his boot.

Merlin warily took a seat next to the king. This had to be a trick. In just a moment, Arthur would whack him with the brush and claim this was his job and get on with it. And oh, as punishment you get to do the same thing to everyone's boots who sits at the Round Table.

"You missed the meeting."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just..."

"Don't apologize, Merlin."

Merlin bit his lips shut.

"I know you're angry."

"Sire?"

"And I've been thinking."

"I told you not to do that too much," Merlin muttered before he could stop himself.

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to change my mind."

Merlin swallowed. What other punishment might Arthur devise?

Arthur paused in his work, but didn't look at the man to his side. "I want you to sit at the Round Table."

"W-hat?"

The brush moved even faster on the boots, Arthur bent over as if he only had eyes for his task.

Merlin tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Why?" When Arthur didn't immediately reply, he asked another question. "Is Gwen making you do this?"

"She might have reminded me that she was a servant and you're a servant and...sometimes you demonstrate a bit of wisdom."

"You think I'm wise?"

Arthur's eyes snapped over to him. "I didn't say you were wise. I said sometimes wisdom seems to seep out of that addled brain of yours. Like that stupid story you told about Bruta. Not that I believe a word of it."

"It's true."

"Right." The boots drew Arthur's attention again.

A seat at the table. "Where would I sit?" Weren't all places filled?

"We'll make room between Elyan and Percival."

"Not Gwaine?"

"No," Arthur said firmly. "You'll chat each other up the whole time."

"We wouldn't."

"You would. You're like two clucking hens when you're anywhere near each other." Arthur still didn't look at him.

Merlin grinned, and then his smile faltered. His eyes drifted to the wooden box across the room. If he'd been at the meeting, Arthur could be dead. He would have come back here and unawares opened the box himself. Merlin's heart dropped. Arthur dead was the worst thing his mind could ever conceive of happening to Albion...or to him.

"I..." Merlin started. He couldn't sit at the table. He needed to be free to appear irresponsible, an idiot who could disappear at a moment's notice, not an adviser forced into meetings. "I don't want to sit at the table."

The brush stilled in Arthur's hands. Merlin met the troubled gaze his king sent him. "What if I say you don't have a choice?"

"Arthur," Merlin spoke quietly, but firmly. "As king, you need support and we both know that that means the goodwill of the nobles to start with."

"I don't care how the..."

"Please," Merlin pleaded.

Arthur closed his mouth and waved the brush for him to continue.

"You've already taken a servant as a wife, and that's made some people mistrust you have the good of Camelot at heart. If I sit at the table, they'll think even worse of you, and I won't be the cause of that."

Arthur stared at him blankly. Merlin contemplated his hands. Arthur let out a short laugh. "I thought you didn't come today because you were mad." Merlin looked up when Arthur's hand laid on his shoulder.

"I'm not mad," Merlin assured and smiled. "I was delayed. A chore for Gaius."

Arthur shook his head. "Tavern?"

"No."

Arthur laughed longer this time.

"I wasn't in the tavern!" Merlin insisted.

Arthur removed his hand, looking down at the boot, turning it over and over.

Merlin tried to remedy the awkward silence. "We both know at heart I'm an idiot anyway. I wouldn't have anything to say in your meetings."

Arthur looked up. "You're not, though. Not always."

"But most of the time."

"It's not true, Merlin, not even most of the time. Sometimes I think you're the wisest man I know."

Merlin held Arthur's penetrating gaze.

"Even about this. Giving a seat up for my...Well, because..." Arthur rubbed at the boot's leather, his eyes on his thumb. "The truth is I didn't want you to sit at the table because I didn't want you to feel the pressure of speaking carefully in front of everyone. I need your private ear, so you can tell me what you need to openly and without fear of how it sounds."

Merlin stared at the bowed blond head next to him, thinking of all the times he'd gotten away with speaking to Arthur in a way no one else would.

"I trust you," Arthur muttered. He raised his head and met Merlin's gaze. "I do."

"Arthur..."

"Well," Arthur said, smacking him on the shoulder and standing. He dropped his boot into Merlin's hands. "Now that the point has been made, have at it." He smiled the arrogant Arthur smile he always did when he was uncomfortable and headed to towards his door.

Merlin didn't mind. He picked up the brush to work the spots Arthur had missed.

"Merlin?"

Merlin looked over. Arthur had paused in the doorway.

"You might not be sitting at the table, but can you at least stand near it," his tone turned sarcastic, "when it's not too much for your schedule?"

Merlin's eyes twinkled. "Of course, Arthur."

The king nodded succinctly and left.

Merlin stared at the boot. Equality. Trust. He had them both even if no one else could see it. Well, most of the time, and that was enough for now.