AN1: These were all written for merlin_land's When Arthur Found Out Challenge, my categories were "past" and "present", but the third is what happens when I'm exhausted and stressed out and see the words "When Arthur Found Out" and have to go to the store (I think of it as falling vaguely into the "future" category, lol).

Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been, never will be

AN2: *stories in chronological order, though obviously not in the same verse*

Title: Boots
Pairing: Gen to pre-slash
Rating:G

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It really should've been the Questing Beast, or the constant too close calls, or the winds in Ealdor, or the glowing ball of blue light, or the blasted dragon that caused Arthur to confront his manservant about being a sorcerer, any of those obvious, blatant acts. It should not have been a pair of his boots floating over to his bed. For one thing it was too early in the morning, and this being Merlin, Arthur hadn't even had his breakfast, yet.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked half asleep and more than a little annoyed.

"Yes?" his manservant answered hesitantly.

"Is there a good reason my hunting boots are hovering a good five feet above the ground, rather than sitting on the floor where one would normal expect to find one's footwear?"

"Magic?" Merlin offered in a small voice.

"Quite. Any idea where it's coming from?"

Merlin shirked back, "Um, maybe someone really doesn't want you to go hunting today."

"Perhaps. Or. I have a servant, who, while somewhat adept at using magic, is horrible at his duties and too lazy to get up and walk the few feet to fetch my boots himself." Arthur gave Merlin a withering look.

"Should I be running?"

"Should I be calling the guards?"

"NO!"

"Then I think it's safe to say you don't need to be running."

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief, then asked, "You're not just saying that so I won't run?"

"Gods, Merlin, will you relax, and for heaven's sake put those down," he glared at his boots, "it's unnerving."

"Oh, sorry." He let his eyes trail from the boots to the floor, the boots following the path if his eye until they settled at the foot of Arthur's bed. "Arthur?" He took the chance of moving closer to the Prince, "Not that I'm complaining, but why aren'tI running for my life?"

Arthur gave a deep sigh. "Because despite what my father says and how right I think he usually is in such matters, I can't begin to imagine you as evil and trying to overthrow the kingdom. Unless of course it's all an act of subterfuge and you actually aretrying to overthrow Camelot from the inside by mucking up as many chores as I can give you in hopes that an improperly made bed or extra washing will result in our downfall, or you could be trying to usurp us by serving ware destruction, hoping we will run out of plates and starve to death rather than eat from a bowl. While this might work with my father, I doubt it would actually lead to Camelot's ruin."

"So, you're not mad?"

"No, I'll be mad when I wake up, after you bring me breakfast and help me get dressed. Then I'll be mad." He raised his head and saw Merlin's frightened eyes. "Oh for crying out loud, Merlin," he snapped. "Come here."

Merlin came around to where Arthur was sitting, still more in bed than out.

"Sit."

Merlin did.

Arthur placed one hand on Merlin's shoulder, holding him firmly in place, "Merlin," he spoke softly, "you have nothing to fear from me. I would never turn you over to my father. I could never." There was a warm spark behind the Prince's eyes as he spoke that made Merlin wonder if there was more to Arthur's words. "Now, go fetch my breakfast," he ordered and just like that everything was back to normal.

Finally, Merlin smiled, "Yes, Sire."
He still worried and now wondered at the look that passed through Arthur's eyes, but he'd chase that spark and its meaning later. Right now, knowing he had Arthur's trust and protection was enough for one day.