The Prince's colours
Title: The Prince's colours
Paring: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: pg
Word count: 1, 554
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin (or Arthur) :(
Summary: Established relationship. Arthur has to decide whose colours to wear for an upcomming tournament.
Warnings: Felt like writing something romantic- apologies if I got carried away.
The Prince was up till late discussing issues of court etiquette with his father, because that is what the prince did. He trained long and hard early in the morning for the upcoming tournament, he observed his knights sword work, checking for any weaknesses that would show them up in front of the Mercian ambassadors. He ingratiated himself with these Mercian ambassadors, hunted with their sons and danced with their daughters, hiding a grimace behind a smile. Because he was the Prince first and foremost, Prince Arthur whose duty was to Camelot above all else.
Merlin didn’t resent this. He told himself again and again that Arthur’s nobility, his values and his honour were part of what made him the man that Merlin couldn’t help but love. Yet it was only after Arthur’s role as Prince had finished for the day that he could take Merlin to his bed and take up the role of lover. And it was good, it was beautiful, they moulded together as deeply entwined as their destiny. In these moments Merlin had no doubt that Arthur returned his love in equal measure. He would call him ‘beautiful’, ‘precious’, ‘love’ and still ‘idiot’ because some things never change.
Then they would talk. Talk and talk of anything that passed through their minds. Their mothers, their fathers, their days, their hopes, all conveyed in the light banter only they could show affection through. Today though Arthur couldn’t seem to leave his role as Prince behind.
“I have spent two hours, can you believe it Merlin, two hours debating with my father over proper etiquette for the tournament.”
“Two hours?”
“Yes, you know, the time it takes for you to fetch my breakfast in the morning?” Arthur replied with a playful nudge to Merlin’s ribs that ended in an arm wrapped around his waist.
“And what could possibly have the great Prince Arthur at a loss?” Merlin asked with a smile leaning back among the sumptuous pillows of the prince’s bed. Arthur tightened his hold on Merlin’s waist.
“A rather difficult decision actually. The King of Mercia is arriving with his daughter to watch the tournament. It seems the King is very eager for me to wear his daughter’s colours to fight in the tournament.”
“Oh?” Merlin was at that moment more concerned with brushing his hands through the strands of golden hair that he found were using his chest as a pillow.
“But father claims to be worried that this could be misread as an offer of courtship. Really though I think he hates the image of me winning this tournament with Mercia’s colours on my arm. Yet if I wear the colours of any lady in Camelot not only could they read it as an offer of courtship but it would be a direct snub to the Mercian King and his daughter.” Arthur sighed and rested his head further onto Merlin’s chest.
“So what did you decide?”
“We didn’t, that’s the problem. Court etiquette is such a nightmare Merlin, nothing ever gets decided.”
“Do you have to wear anyone’s colours? If you have no intentions towards any of these women why do you need to wear their colours?”
“Because it’s tradition you idiot. It’s how it works.”
“I know you prat,” Merlin couldn’t help but continue. “It just seems like a stupid tradition to me. Whichever girl you pick you’ll hurt another’s feelings. As for the one you pick, you’ll lead her on and then when she thinks she has a chance of becoming princess you’ll hand her ribbon back to her and she’ll be rejected just like the rest. It’s a mess, just like every stupid tradition in this place.” Arthur, confused by this sudden outburst, answered cautiously.
“Merlin... it’s just a tradition.” Merlin let his head fall until his lips met the top of Arthur’s head.
“Yes, yes it’s just a tradition. You have to wear someone’s colours and it’s not like you can wear mine.” Arthur swiftly sat off, knocking Merlin’s forehead on the way. He held onto the covers with one hand as he looked sincerely into the other man’s eyes.
“Is that what this is all about?” There was no reply. “Merlin you idiot, you don’t even have any colour’s, it’s not like you’re noble or anything. Even if you did I couldn’t wear them...” Then Merlin did something very unexpected, something guaranteed to leave Arthur stumped. He began to cry.
“What? Merlin?” Arthur wandered briefly if he ought to go and get Morganna to help, women were meant to be good at this sort of thing, weren’t they. “Merlin, there’s no need to cry, just talk to me, tell me what this is really about.”
“Sometimes I,” Merlin began murmuring so quietly, “I wish you be mine when you are prince.”
“Merlin,” Arthur took Merlin’s chin in his hand. “I am always a Prince just as I always love you, you know that.” The declaration of affection so rarely spoken but so often implied made him blush.
“Yes Arthur, I know. It just gets hard hiding it sometimes.” He confessed. “You are a good prince and one day you will be a great king but when you’re in public fulfilling your destiny , where am I?”
“At my side.”
“As a servant. No one knows of this, no one can ever know.”
“Morganna does, and Gwen...”
“But never your father, never the people...” he stopped because he had no need to say the rest. Arthur knew where this was going, the vagueness of their future. However instead of leaving the question hanging in the air as he had before Arthur took his lover’s hand in his.
“One day Merlin, one day I will be King and then things will be different. We’ll bring magic back and you will be clearly at my side, in the eyes of the people. I will give you colours and all the titles, lands and money that goes with them. Blue, I think, blue for your eyes or maybe red for your lips. Blue and red entwined shall be your colours Merlin.” He leaned into the embrace. He’d been wrong to doubt Arthur, Merlin realised. They’d get there, one day. One day they would truly be as closely linked as their destinies.
“I don’t need all that Arthur. I just need you.”
“All the more reason why I want to give it to you.”
“Oh Arthur...”
“Now stop gawping you idiot and kiss me.”
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They didn’t speak of that night again but it stayed in both their minds. They woke, embraced and separated as they did most mornings and carried on with their pretence.
On the day of the tournament though Merlin found himself realising he’d never found out what Arthur had decided to do. As crown prince Arthur was to fight the first round. As he entered the arena the people cheered loudly for their prince and Merlin found himself following at a distance to watch.
“Your majesties,” Arthur bowed to his father and the King of Mercia.
“Good luck Arthur,” the Mercian King acknowledged him, his eyes hopeful as he waited for him to accept his daughter’s ribbon. Uther was looking at his son determinedly, willing him to make the right decision. Arthur looked as composed as ever though, not at all like a man with a difficult decision ahead of him. He confidently approached the princess and the Lady Morganna who were seated side by side.
“Ladies, might I have the honour of wearing both your colours.” Confused they both handed them out.
“Citizens of Mercia and Camelot. I wear the ribbon of Mercia and the ribbon Camelot.” He twisted them together , then tied them around his arm. “I fight for peace and unity between our two countries.” This declaration was met with applaud from the people and most importantly the two kings. It was possible there was even a hint of pride in Uther’s smile.
This pride was definitely there when at the end of a long and hard tournament Arthur beat Mercia’s strongest competitor and so was declared the champion. Lifting his sword in acknowledgement of the crowds support he undid he ribbons on his arm and called out
“I win in the name of all the joining of the colours blue and red represent.” It was only then that it hit Merlin what he’d done. Only then that he took in the colours red and blue, entwined. Suddenly his eyes felt rather moist.
Later when they were finally alone together Arthur lifted his eyes to meet Merlin’s as though asking ‘well?’
“You prat,” Merlin answered fondly, his heart swelling.
“Idiot.”
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Years later when Arthur was reaching the end of his tournament years he approached the arena to hear his people cheer him and call out his name. He lifted his hand to acknowledge them but his eyes were fixed on one person seated at the head of the arena. Smiling he approached his Prince consort.
“Your highness, might I wear your colours?”
“Of course, you majesty” came the reply as a ribbon with blue and red entwined weaved itself magically on his upper arm.
Then at the end, when he was once more victorious he lifted the ribbon to his lips then declared
“I win in my Prince Merlin’s name.”