The Neckerchief

Camelot was at peace. You could tell because the people apparently had nothing better to discuss than the Court Sorcerer's fashion, or lack thereof if you asked a certain royal prat. Somehow, Merlin Watching had become one of Camelot's most favorite pastimes. Observers just couldn't help analyzing everything related to him, from the latest dragon sighting to how extraordinarily shiny the king's armor was to the young man's looks. It seemed that everything down to even his most mundane habits were to be dissected in the search for dark secrets and magical meaning. The latest object of wonder and speculation was none other than Merlin's neckerchief.

The day was bright and Merlin was happily roaming the market, enjoying the crowds who had (for the most part) come to accept him and his magic as simply a part of life in the newly magic-tolerant Camelot. A lovely pendant, flashing in the sun, caught his eye and he stopped to admire it. From somewhere in the crowds a snippet of conversation floated to Merlin's ears.

An old curmudgeonly voice spoke in suspicious tones, "That there bit of cloth looks innocent but 'e's hiding evil magical symbols what reveals his powers if'n they're uncovered. More intricate than the druids' tattoos, they are, and carved into his very skin."

Concerned, Merlin froze and strained to hear more. Is there some sort of new threat? he wondered.

A woman responded tartly, "Just you hush, Bert! Don't start such ridiculous rumors! He's a boy with hardly any meat on his bones. He wears it to keep warm."

Merlin, now thoroughly confused, sidled closer.

"Are you sure Merlin's neckerchief isn't anything to do with magic, Mum?" spouted a very young, very excited voice.

Oh, thought Merlin as the subject of discussion became clear. Oh brother..

"Quite sure, Matthew. Now look at what yeh've done, Bert! Fillin' my boy's head with all sorts of ridiculous ideas from your ridiculous stories!"

Merlin snickered to himself. Ridiculous is right! Evil magical symbols carved into my very skin.. Good ol' Bert has got quite the imagination. He sighed in relief. No, there was no new threat and everyone knew better than to listen to Bert, the elderly local doomsayer. Suddenly Merlin's musings were interrupted by a young page boy tugging on his arm.

"Lord Merlin, sir! The king bids you come for lunch with him!"

"Right. Thank you, John," he replied and set off for the citadel glad to have a reason to stop listening in, although, truth be told, he really wasn't all that hungry. Ever since his mother had arrived last month, he'd found very generous meals, snacks and treats awaiting him at every turn.

He jogged through the corridors stopping abruptly at the sound of giggling female voices behind the door to the royal chambers. He pushed it open a crack to see a bevy of maids giving the chambers a thorough airing and cleaning.

"... don't know why though. The queen gave him new clothing but he still won't part with them."

"Why do you think he won't part with them, Annie?"

A more mature voice responded, "He just wants to stay in touch with his roots, I'd wager. He's a good man. He's not ashamed that he was born a commoner and worked as a servant. 'Doesn't let himself forget where he came from even though he's nobility now. Make no mistake, that neckerchief is a sign of humility."

Oh, not the maids too! The eavesdropping warlock grimaced in embarrassment.

"Eldie was going to try sneaking one to put under her pillow. She hopes to dream of him."

"Hopes to work some magic of her own, does she," laughed Annie.

Merlin's ears burned red as he quickly backtracked and ran away down the corridor, firmly resolving to continue washing his own laundry regardless of how much pressure Arthur put on him to get a servant.

Lunch. Focus on lunch.

Merlin rounded the corner and approached a group of guards.

" ..all those years protecting Camelot. I'm betting he's hiding scars that his tunic won't cover."

"Hmm, maybe, but also remember he worked for Gaius and learned medical skills. I've heard Sir Leon tell that that neckerchief came in handy binding up wounds."

Merlin interrupted their riveting conversation.

"Excuse me."

The men seemed to jump about a foot in the air when they realized who was addressing them. Merlin smirked. Serves them right.

"Can you tell me where the king is? I was supposed to join him for lunch but he's not in his chambers."

"Oh, uh, y-yes, my Lord."

Merlin winced at the title.

"The king and queen are taking lunch in the small hall with the Round Table Council today.

Merlin nodded his thanks and switched direction and heard the mumbling start up again behind him.

The doors were ajar and conversation wafted through into the hallway as he approached the small hall. Merlin stopped short at hearing his name and paused to listen in.

"... bet he's using it to hide more than scars. That lad has still got his secrets. I'll bet he stashes things in there."

Not Gwaine too! Merlin groaned. He peeked around the door as he heard Gaius respond.

"Yes, I believe he's found it a rather useful piece of clothing. Many a time he has brought me rare herbs he found in his wanderings. He carried them home wrapped up in his neckerchief."

Sitting between Gaius and Percival, Hunith smiled softly. "I remember him bringing home all sorts of boyish treasures in his neckerchief. I made the first one from the material I used to swaddle him in. It was somehow a comfort to him. Perhaps it reminds him of home."

Percival cleared his throat and everyone stopped in surprise with their spoons and goblets halfway to their mouths when he actually spoke up.

"I always thought it was a comfort thing. I take my sleeves off. He adds a layer." He shrugged. "Comfort thing."

Hunith smiled up at him and nodded.

"Comfort," Arthur snorted, "I don't think anyone could call it comfortable to look like a ridiculously tatty scarecrow. Clearly, the only reason he could possibly wear such a thing is because the man has no sense of fashion. I've no idea why he draws the line at a feathered hat when he's perfectly content to look like an idiot."

Merlin, the all-powerful warlock, narrowed his eyes.

Guinevere gently slapped at Arthur's arm. "Don't be so harsh, Arthur. It's his style. Admittedly, it isn't a look that just anyone could pull off, but on Merlin the neckerchiefs are quite charming. And, you know," she added thoughtfully, "he just wouldn't look like himself without it."

Oh, Sweet Gwen, thought Merlin fondly.

Then Arthur chuckled in amusement and remarked, "He certainly wouldn't. What do you think, Leon?"

The knight however had noticed the tip of said neckerchief at the door and pressed his lips together and shook his head.

Alright. That's enough. The warlock pushed the doors open hard enough to bang them against the walls and strolled in with hands on hips.

"Seriously? You all as well? Why is everyone in this nosy kingdom of gossipers so preoccupied with how I choose to dress? I even caught people in the market discussing it!"

Everyone but Gwaine shifted guiltily -Gwaine having the highest tolerance levels of embarrassment in all of Albion.

"Face it, mate. You're magic. You're a fascination to peasant and nobility alike. Nobody else wears one so naturally everyone's going to wonder if it has to do with your magic."

"Wait!" interrupted the king. "He's not the only one who wears a neckerchief. George does as well."

Guinevere giggled.

After a moment of thought he continued, "Still proves my point. Go on, Gwaine."

Merlin rolled his eyes. Hard.

Dollopheads, the lot of them. An entire kingdom full.

"You want to know why I wear a neckerchief?" He turned to face Arthur directly. "Because I like it. I. Like. It." He scanned the group and gestured toward each of them as he commented, "Gwen likes the color purple. Arthur? Oh, Arthur enjoys maiming fluffy bunnies. Leon likes… well, don't worry, Leon, your secret is safe with me. Gwaine prefers mead to ale. Percival won't pass up a chance to give kids pickpack rides. My mother loves constantly feeding her son. And Gaius seems to enjoy drugging me!"

Merlin raised an eyebrow at his mentor as the old physician had the nerve to look affronted. He pulled his neckerchief away from his throat and waved it at them all.

"And I like neckerchiefs! I like them. Really! That's it! This kingdom needs to get a new topic of conversation. Maybe I should scare up a monster or a demon or two and get things back to normal."

Merlin flicked his fingers and summoned a tart, a roll, some cheese and some fruit from the table then wrapped it all in his neckerchief.

"I'm going on a picnic. ALONE, Gwaine!" he snapped at the knight who had jumped up, excited at the prospect of accompanying him. "Alone with my neckerchief. And we're going to gossip about you lot the whole time."

They all looked suitably chastened and a bit confused as Merlin stomped off.

Arthur shook his head. "Barmy."

Leon looked a little worried. "You don't think he was serious about the monsters, do you?"

Gwaine settled back into his seat and picked up his goblet and swirled the mead inside it. "Nah. Hey, have you ever noticed how many buckles he has on his boots?"

A/N: Keep your spirits up, everyone! Best wishes for your health and happiness. Hope this prompted a smile.

BTW, did anyone recognize Bert and Co?