Disclaimer: Merlin was (oh, my tears) produced by Shine Television for the BBC, and belongs to creators Julian Jones, Jake Michie, Julian Murphy and Johnny Capps.

A/N: I've been on Ao3's invitation waiting list for weeks and weeks because I couldn't remember my old username. A day before I'm due to receive an invite, guess what? I remembered. This was written in 2011. It has not been edited.

Apologies

Gwaine is the first.

"Come to the tavern," he says. It is the first thing he has said to Merlin since the she-devil-who-must-not-be-named was killed and they returned to Camelot.

Merlin's eyes narrow over the armour he is polishing on the bench. He hasn't quite forgiven Gwaine for waving that torch dangerously close to his face yet. "Why?"

"Why?" Gwaine huffs. "Because I want you to."

The knight strides over to the warlock and unashamedly hauls him up by his sensitive underarms, and he drags him all the way out of the castle and through the town, ignoring Merlin's flailing and kicks and protests of Arthur already thinks I am an alcoholic, let's not add fuel to the flame and I need to finish my duties and I don't want anything thrown at me, please, Gwaine.

But Merlin actually has a really good time, though he doesn't — and will never — admit to as much. He keeps quiet, not even to say that he understands why Gwaine has brought him to the tavern.

(Alcohol and awful jokes and girls are how Gwaine apologises without actually saying the word.)

Merlin keeps his silence when Arthur doesn't complain the next morning that his armour wasn't ready when it should have been. He doesn't say anything when Arthur doesn't once crack a joke about Merlin's no-longer-non-existent friends in the tavern. He doesn't say anything, mainly because he has a massive hangover and he can barely see straight.

He is still nursing his hangover when Percival finds him in the afternoon, who picks him up in the same fashion Gwaine wanted to but couldn't quite manage and carries him to the same tavern. The barmaid looks at Merlin suspiciously through her thick hair, but she serves him anyway, and he has to pointedly ignore her glares at him. It is, after all, the second knight he has come to the tavern with during the space of two days, and he really needs to stop this otherwise he will no longer be the King's manservant and his reputation will be tarnished and he will never recover from the alcoholic stupor he has—

"I'm sorry," Percival says after ten minutes of uncomfortable silence.

It turns out that they all remember the incident of the she-devil-who-must-not-be-named and that their memories were not conveniently wiped after they snapped out of the enchantment which made them forget they were brothers and goddamn Merlin needs to stop drinking because he can't even think straight let alone see—

"I don't know what came over me. Well, I do, but it wasn't me, you know that... It was... I didn't — Merlin, do you forgive me? I mean, I'd never do that on purpose, you know I wouldn't. I'm really, really sorry if I hurt you—"

Percival has never sounded less eloquent in his life (honestly, Lancelot would have been so disappointed) and Merlin almost thinks him endearing. But he doesn't say anything about that either, and instead cut across his friend and says quickly, "It's fine, Perce, really. I understand."

Percival's features light up and his eyes dance as he grins happily. Really, it is unfair how such a tall man, a giant knight with those big things he calls arms can look like a teddy bear and still be able to crush someone at the same time.

"Thanks, Merlin."

And that is that.

When Merlin wakes Arthur up two hours late the next day and has forgotten to bring his breakfast, the King grunts and moans as he usually does when he rises but he doesn't shout or halfheartedly threaten punishments.

Instead he says, "I'll have Guinevere bring something up," and he doesn't notice when Merlin walks out of his chambers with laundry bundled in his arms looking as if somebody has kicked his puppy. Not because he's not been shouted at (which should have happened), but because Arthur has again chosen Gwen.

Elyan finds him, then, and after a long, heated discussion about how he disapproves of Gwen having a relationship, even if it is with his friend and lord King Arthur Pendragon, he graciously allows Merlin to agree (because Merlin does agree — he disapproves, too, even if Gwen is one his best friends, he disapproves so much) and he takes the laundry from Merlin's arms.

They walk together to the bottom of the castle. Merlin feels a little lost and free without the burden, and a lot more lighter in his heart when Elyan stays and talks to him while he washes. Elyan even helps out a little bit, although admittedly the knight has next to no idea what he is doing but it is far more appreciated than a trip to the tavern.

Afterwards, he claps Merlin on the back in what he probably thinks is a friendly gesture but actually sends Merlin flying across the room, and he leaves with a smile that is much like Percival's from the night before.

"You took a long time," Arthur says when Merlin returns laundry-free. He's sitting at his table, eating an assortment of fruits and cheese and ham and bread.

"I was with Elyan."

Arthur's frowning slightly as he nods. "Right."

It makes Merlin wonder whether Arthur knows that Elyan secretly wants to rip him limb from limb and hide Gwen away with Mary and John in Longstead and keep her there until she is old, wrinkly and grey. He considers whether he should really say something about it, but instead he keeps his newfound quietness as he holds his smirk and hopes.

Arthur finishes his meal and goes to the training field, leaving Merlin hungover and nearly sleeping on his feet. He only feels marginally better after imagining Elyan tearing into the King.

It is much, much later, just as he is leaving Arthur's chambers and whistling a merry tune (he might have had a nap against the bedpost) when Leon finds him.

They go to the tavern. Of course.

Merlin doesn't have the heart to protest or ask why he is not in council with Arthur and Arthur's scheming hairy rat of an uncle. Instead he says, "I'm sure it's not healthy to visit the tavern three days in a row," as he lounges haphazardly front-first over the bar, ignoring the disapproving, judgemental barmaid again. He is well aware it is the third knight in three days.

If only they weren't straight, he nearly says to the woman.

Leon claps him on the back, and Merlin nearly slides over the bar. "It's not, my friend."

"So why—"

"I wanted to apologise. I know it's not the most original way to do it, but several tankards of mead solve everything, right?"

"Er, right. Does it solve hangovers?" Merlin asks.

Leon laughs. "Solves it enough to put it off until the next morning, at least," he says.

Merlin chugs the mead in several impressive gulps, and then Leon says he can do better than that, and then they are laughing and Leon is clipping him over the ear and ruffling his hair and they are challenging each other and getting mighty drunk, and Merlin doesn't even remember falling into bed that night when he wakes up the next morning in his small box of a room.

After throwing up and all but snatching a remedy from Gaius, Merlin is back to work in the King's rooms. He is still throwing up (out of the window) when Arthur walks in. He's at his side instantly.

"Merlin?"

"Sire," Merlin croaks. "I'm sorry. I'm fine, really—"

"Merlin," he says again, but softly this time, and then, "Honestly, how much did you drink last night?"

"Enough to not remember the last few days."

"Bloody hell. You idiot."

"It's not my fault!" Merlin cries loudly, and then he throws up again, and it's only when he's tucked up in Arthur's bed and snuggling against his side does he say, "It's your bloody knights. You should have them all flogged. Apart from Elyan. Not Elyan."

"Do you have a soft spot for Elyan, Merlin?" Arthur teases lightly.

"No," Merlin mumbles against his skin. "No! He didn't take me to that god awful tavern, is all."

"Gods, Merlin, did Leon, Percival and Gwaine all apologise by taking you to the tavern?" Arthur demands, and he's frowning — Merlin knows he's frowning without even having to look up and remember that he shouldn't be this close to Arthur and especially not on this bed but he really doesn't care. He really doesn't.

"Of course Gwaine did."

"Of course Gwaine did," Arthur repeats.

"Of course Gwaine—" Merlin begins childishly, and then he freezes and something that is not the urge to vomit pulls at his stomach. "How did you know they were apologising?"

Arthur clears his throat. "They told me during training. Said they were really nasty to you, or something."

"Arthur."

"Oh, alright. I told them to, of course."

"Of course," Merlin says. He's quite happy if he never has to say 'of course' again.

"Guinevere said you had a really rough time when you were… when the whole… you know. Thing." He gestures wildly at the side of Merlin's head. "With the thing. Y'know."

"Of course she did," Merlin says because he can't help himself, nor the dull tone that works itself into his voice. Did Arthur make them apologise to her, too?

"Don't be like that, Merlin, you know how it is and I—"

"I know."

But he doesn't know, really, not when Arthur holds him close like this.

Merlin can't wait until Elyan finds the balls to confront Arthur. In fact, he might very well go and find the knight now and drag him by his stupid cloak to these very chambers and hide Arthur's sword while he's at it and watch as—

"Merlin."

"No, no. I know, Arthur."

(But he still doesn't.)

Arthur sighs and shifts around a little, enough to pull Merlin to his chest and keep him there tightly. Merlin's head spins with the movement, but it's Arthur, and he still doesn't really care. He's never drinking again. He's going to that barmaid and he's telling her to ban him from the tavern and not let him in ever again and just for the record, he's going to let her know that he's not actually shagging—

"I know they were under an enchantment but that doesn't excuse their behaviour towards you. They were out of line." Arthur's words become increasingly angry and strained and offended, yet his touch is gentle and loving and comforting as he strokes Merlin's damp hair from his forehead and spits out his words and Merlin could just fall asleep right here, right now, instead of on his feet like earlier. "Completely out of line. So I told them to apologise."

More like threatened, Merlin thinks tiredly, but he's more than happy to think about the point of Arthur's sword at the knight's chests. Although Merlin knows that it was an enchantment, he still couldn't help but feel indignant and downright furious on that trip with the she-devil every single time he was berated and threatened and smacked down.

He pushes the memories away. It is done. He has hated being so angry with them.

"Thank you," he says quietly and with as much feeling he can muster.

Arthur mumbles something a lot less angry and with just as much feeling, but in his arms Merlin is teetering on the edge of sleep and can't make out the words.

Merlin doesn't need to hear them. He already knows.