All dressed up
Author: Judin
Title: All dressed up
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, the knights
Summary: Merlin exists to drive Arthur to distraction. Arthur is sure of it.
Warnings: Crossdressing! Which should be more of an incentive than a warning.
Word Count: 809
Prompt: #71 Despair
Author's Notes: Oh look, it's not the Frozen Stars verse! This is meant to be humorous, which is the reason I am giving for it being a bit slap-dash. There might be a part 2 with more sex.
Arthur was king in all but name now, and his new duties lay heavily on his shoulders. If his uncle Agravaine had not been there to teach and advice him, he would have been lost. Another great thing about having Agravaine around was that when small diplomatic matters required attention, Arthur could dispatch his uncle to deal with it, and escape to more enjoyable pursuits. Like chasing his knights around the practice field.
“Stand still, Percival!”
“As soon as you put down the mace, Sire.”
Percival, having been disarmed only moments ago, had decided that rather than face Arthur and his swinging mace head on, he would turn tail and run.
“Knights of Camelot do not run away from danger!”
“This one does!”
They had made a full circuit of the field and were returning to the fence where Gwaine, Elyan and Leon were lounging, watching with interest and no little amusement.
“Will one of you cud-chewing cows throw me a weapon?” Percival shouted, dodging as Arthur swung at him.
“But you’re doing so well,” Leon called back.
“Use your arms!” Gwaine suggested, clapping his hand to his bicep in an overly illustrative gesture.
“You can't run away in a war situation, Percival,” Arthur lectures him. “You'd be surrounded by enemies. You'd run from the one into the arms of the next.”
“You know,” Leon said to his companions. “Our lord is right. This is a poor imitation of a battlefield.”
“Maybe we should help,” Gwaine agreed. “Make the odds more realistic?”
The two jumped the fence and picked up their weapons.
Elyan shrugged and followed them. “Before we engage, though, tell me who we're siding with.”
They stopped to consider the situation, watching as Percival dodged Arthur’s attack and pelted down the long side of the field, with Arthur in pursuit a moment later.
Gwaine pursed his lips and stroked his beard. “Let's see, there’s our helpless comrade, or our lord and sovereign.”
“Whom I'd love to get back at for the fall he gave me the other day,” Leon mumbled.
“Well then, we side with Percival, for Sir Leon's jousting honour,” Elyan decided.
They hefted their swords, shouted encouragement to Percival, and readied themselves to make it a proper melee.
“What are you three up to?” Merlin asked from the fence.
They turned to greet him, caught sight of the dress he was wearing, and promptly forgot what they'd been doing. Unfortunately, Arthur also caught sight of Merlin's dress, and equally promptly forgot to control his mace, which swung in a tight arch and bludgeoned him on the head. The King went down for the count.
The knights ran to their fallen sovereign, while Lancelot, who had arrived right behind Merlin, helped Merlin over the fence. (Such things are hard to scale in a dress, especially if you haven’t had the chance to practice.)
When Arthur woke up, he was surrounded by five concerned knights and one effeminate manservant.
His first words were loud and coherent, so at least he hadn't sustained any brain damage. “What are you wearing?”
Merlin pulled helpfully at a bit of skirt. “It's a dress.”
Arthur sat up with a groan, touching his head where a sizable bump would no doubt appear before long. “I know it's a dress, Merlin, why are you wearing it?”
“I may or may not have lost a bet, depending on what you think about gambling.”
Arthur let himself flop back down in the grass.
“It's a nice dress,” Leon said.
“Was Gwen happy with the result?” Elyan asked.
“You knew about this?” Arthur shouted, squinting as it made his already throbbing head throb harder. Honestly, sometimes he despaired of what to do with this lot.
“Stop yelling,” Merlin scolded, scooting closer and lifting Arthur's head to rest it on his lap. “You'll hurt yourself. More than you already have.” He checked the bruised area, carding long, careful fingers through the King's hair.
“You can't wear a dress, Merlin,” Arthur complained, his voice lowered to a rumble by the attention he was getting. “I've told you, no crossdressing while on duty. Keep it to your own time.”
“I'm not a crossdresser!” Merlin replied, tugging Arthur's ear. “That dress was for Gaius.”
The knights looked at each other and decided that they didn't want to know.
It was a dark blue, cotton dress, befitting of Merlin’s station and yet clearly made with a lot of skill and care. The bodice was designed for a slim boy, and covered with embroidery. Merlin seemed a little pale in it, but it made him all the more striking, Arthur thought.
“Percival, I'm postponing your judgment,” the Crown Prince said regally from the ground. “I need to hide my manservant.”
But they remained for some time on the grass in the sun, and Merlin never stopped running his fingers through Arthur's hair.
Title: All dressed up
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, the knights
Summary: Merlin exists to drive Arthur to distraction. Arthur is sure of it.
Warnings: Crossdressing! Which should be more of an incentive than a warning.
Word Count: 809
Prompt: #71 Despair
Author's Notes: Oh look, it's not the Frozen Stars verse! This is meant to be humorous, which is the reason I am giving for it being a bit slap-dash. There might be a part 2 with more sex.
Arthur was king in all but name now, and his new duties lay heavily on his shoulders. If his uncle Agravaine had not been there to teach and advice him, he would have been lost. Another great thing about having Agravaine around was that when small diplomatic matters required attention, Arthur could dispatch his uncle to deal with it, and escape to more enjoyable pursuits. Like chasing his knights around the practice field.
“Stand still, Percival!”
“As soon as you put down the mace, Sire.”
Percival, having been disarmed only moments ago, had decided that rather than face Arthur and his swinging mace head on, he would turn tail and run.
“Knights of Camelot do not run away from danger!”
“This one does!”
They had made a full circuit of the field and were returning to the fence where Gwaine, Elyan and Leon were lounging, watching with interest and no little amusement.
“Will one of you cud-chewing cows throw me a weapon?” Percival shouted, dodging as Arthur swung at him.
“But you’re doing so well,” Leon called back.
“Use your arms!” Gwaine suggested, clapping his hand to his bicep in an overly illustrative gesture.
“You can't run away in a war situation, Percival,” Arthur lectures him. “You'd be surrounded by enemies. You'd run from the one into the arms of the next.”
“You know,” Leon said to his companions. “Our lord is right. This is a poor imitation of a battlefield.”
“Maybe we should help,” Gwaine agreed. “Make the odds more realistic?”
The two jumped the fence and picked up their weapons.
Elyan shrugged and followed them. “Before we engage, though, tell me who we're siding with.”
They stopped to consider the situation, watching as Percival dodged Arthur’s attack and pelted down the long side of the field, with Arthur in pursuit a moment later.
Gwaine pursed his lips and stroked his beard. “Let's see, there’s our helpless comrade, or our lord and sovereign.”
“Whom I'd love to get back at for the fall he gave me the other day,” Leon mumbled.
“Well then, we side with Percival, for Sir Leon's jousting honour,” Elyan decided.
They hefted their swords, shouted encouragement to Percival, and readied themselves to make it a proper melee.
“What are you three up to?” Merlin asked from the fence.
They turned to greet him, caught sight of the dress he was wearing, and promptly forgot what they'd been doing. Unfortunately, Arthur also caught sight of Merlin's dress, and equally promptly forgot to control his mace, which swung in a tight arch and bludgeoned him on the head. The King went down for the count.
The knights ran to their fallen sovereign, while Lancelot, who had arrived right behind Merlin, helped Merlin over the fence. (Such things are hard to scale in a dress, especially if you haven’t had the chance to practice.)
When Arthur woke up, he was surrounded by five concerned knights and one effeminate manservant.
His first words were loud and coherent, so at least he hadn't sustained any brain damage. “What are you wearing?”
Merlin pulled helpfully at a bit of skirt. “It's a dress.”
Arthur sat up with a groan, touching his head where a sizable bump would no doubt appear before long. “I know it's a dress, Merlin, why are you wearing it?”
“I may or may not have lost a bet, depending on what you think about gambling.”
Arthur let himself flop back down in the grass.
“It's a nice dress,” Leon said.
“Was Gwen happy with the result?” Elyan asked.
“You knew about this?” Arthur shouted, squinting as it made his already throbbing head throb harder. Honestly, sometimes he despaired of what to do with this lot.
“Stop yelling,” Merlin scolded, scooting closer and lifting Arthur's head to rest it on his lap. “You'll hurt yourself. More than you already have.” He checked the bruised area, carding long, careful fingers through the King's hair.
“You can't wear a dress, Merlin,” Arthur complained, his voice lowered to a rumble by the attention he was getting. “I've told you, no crossdressing while on duty. Keep it to your own time.”
“I'm not a crossdresser!” Merlin replied, tugging Arthur's ear. “That dress was for Gaius.”
The knights looked at each other and decided that they didn't want to know.
It was a dark blue, cotton dress, befitting of Merlin’s station and yet clearly made with a lot of skill and care. The bodice was designed for a slim boy, and covered with embroidery. Merlin seemed a little pale in it, but it made him all the more striking, Arthur thought.
“Percival, I'm postponing your judgment,” the Crown Prince said regally from the ground. “I need to hide my manservant.”
But they remained for some time on the grass in the sun, and Merlin never stopped running his fingers through Arthur's hair.