Merlin - In Light of Recent Events or Why One Should Never Take the Piss With Royalty (M/A - R)
So, this is that other Merlin story. Around 7,000 words worth of that other story. And with that in mind, it is dedicated to imwalde, lassiterfics, lembeau, suaine, trollprincess and witheredsong and everyone else who was all, "that Merlin show, you want to watch it. No, really, watch it. Dude, WATCH IT."
Merlin
Merlin/Arthur, Arthur/OFC (s)
Rated R
In Light of Recent Events or Why One Should Never Take the Piss With Royalty
"That was a bad idea, wasn't it?" Merlin asked while picking smouldering twigs out of his own hair.
Arthur glanced up from extracting splinters from his fingers.
"That was the worst idea ever, Merlin."
Merlin bristled. "Oh, well I'm sorry, your most unappreciative worshipfulness. Next time I won't risk life and limb to free you from the clutches of the bewitched trees, and instead I'll let the three-headed dog eat you alive. Then you won't have to suffer through my horrible ideas."
Far be it from Merlin to agree with Arthur, especially when Arthur was right. And yet, it had been much better to let the carnivorous trees eat the three-headed dog instead of eating Arthur. Merlin was certain of that.
At least he'd been certain of that at the time, but now that they were sitting peacefully in the meadow, and Arthur was continuing to complain, he was having second thoughts.
Arthur glared. "Shut up, Merlin."
"You started it."
"I started it? You almost died. Again," Arthur complained.
"Yes, because I obviously did it on purpose."
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur repeated.
"Far be it from me to sacrifice myself for my prince," Merlin taunted.
"Your prince."
"Well, as your manservant, aren't I supposed to serve you? I put you first."
Arthur narrowed his eyes as though he thought Merlin were teasing him, but he couldn't quite be sure, which Merlin though was ridiculous, because of course he was taking the piss.
"I never told you to put me first," Arthur retorted finally.
'No, you just glare at me and expect me to lie down in puddles, so you don't soil your shoes."
"I would never--"
"I stand corrected," Merlin amended, "you would most likely step in the puddles, just so you could order me to clean your already filthy boots."
Arthur tossed several splinters in Merlin's direction. They were carried off by a light breeze and ended up in Arthur's hair. "Are you always this foul after you almost die?"
"I'm sorry, some of us don't get use to almost dying, Sire."
Arthur scowled. "You are the most ungrateful brat I have ever been forced to interact with."
"Takes one to know one."
Arthur blinked as Merlin got to his feet. "Did you really say that?"
"I don't know, did I?"
"You do realise I'm going to send you to the stocks, don't you?"
Merlin rolled his eyes before offering Arthur a hand up. "Well, if I'm in the stocks, then I can't get eaten, can I?"
Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand and yanked him back down on the ground. Merlin stumbled onto his knees as Arthur used the top of Merlin's head to propel himself to his feet.
"You are incorrigible," Arthur said with a grin.
Merlin glared from on his knees. "I didn't know you knew words that big."
"I really am going to run you through with my sword."
"You know, under other circumstances that might concern me, but as I almost just died, sorry, can't really be that concerned."
"You are insufferable."
"Yes, and you're alive. You're welcome."
Arthur sputtered, but offered Merlin a hand up anyway.
There was something about near-death experiences that made Merlin sleep like the dead. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn't dead, and so he could appreciate the fact that he'd be waking up in the morning. Well, theoretically he'd be waking up in the morning. He was starting to learn that taking things for granted -- like waking up in the morning -- was probably not the best way to survive Camelot.
Although, walking in on Arthur having sexual relations with one of the scullery maids was probably going to blind him. And if he were blind, he might wander out into the forest and get eaten alive by something unpleasant anyway.
It would have been all right if it had only been the one time. Merlin could appreciate that people celebrated near-death experiences differently. Merlin slept; Arthur shagged.
Except that it happened again. And again.
Two days later it was one of the housemaids.
Four days after that it was one of the dishwashers. And her brother.
The next afternoon, it was one of the footmen.
Someone had to draw a line somewhere. Surely there were a maximum number of people you were allowed to shag per near-death experience. Not that Arthur hadn't accumulated a rather staggering number of near-death experiences: the poisoned chalice, the black knight, the sphinx and Merlin's attempts at sword practise were just a few highlights. And yet, that was no reason to shag the entire household in one go.
Merlin wasn't jealous; he was just tired of cleaning up the mess. And trying to bring in Arthur's breakfast backwards, so he didn't have to see Arthur and whatever harlot -- or whatever the male version of a harlot was -- going at it like two, or three rabbits.
"Merlin, you can look, I promise there's nothing to offend your delicate sensibilities."
Yes, there was nothing to offend Merlin's delicate sensibilities as long as he didn't count the washerwoman bouncing up and down on Arthur's lap in an unmistakable way. Yes, couldn't really mistake that with all the naked bits on display. Far too many bits for Merlin.
Arthur's armour landed on the floor with a massive crash, and yet, the woman never broke her stride.
Merlin had to give her credit: some people could get the job done regardless of who was watching.
Or not watching. No, Merlin was definitely not watching.
"I'm just going to go polish your sword now," Merlin said, scooping up the armour and dashing out the door.
If Arthur called after him, he didn't hear it.
Arthur found Merlin in the stables. Although considering Arthur was the one who banished Merlin to said stables after breakfast to 'pick manure out of the horses' hooves, because it irritates them,' that wasn't terribly shocking.
What was shocking was that Merlin didn't stab Arthur in the foot with a hoof pick when Arthur announced his presence. "We're going hunting."
Merlin didn't bother to look up. He didn't want to be tempted to do something that would end worse than with him in the stocks. "We are? Since when?"
"Since now."
"Can you do that?" Merlin asked a particularly stubborn bit of dung.
"I'm the prince; I can do whatever I want."
At this, Merlin had to stand up. He was entirely too young for his back to hurt this much.
Before he came to Camelot, Merlin had no idea you could just announce that you were taking several days off to go hunting and nobody would blink an eye. In Ealdor, if you went hunting, you came home that night. Not that Merlin ever went hunting -- not really the hunting type -- but since Merlin had met Arthur he'd found that types only existed so that he could not fit into them.
He shook his head. "And you wonder why I call you an arrogant, insufferable, pompous--"
"Since when am I pompous?"
"Oh, I must've just come up with that one."
Merlin ducked as Arthur threw an errant gauntlet at his head.
It bounced harmlessly off of the wall behind his head and landed on the floor with a clatter.
Arthur looked at Merlin expectantly. "Well?"
Merlin blanked. "Well, what?"
"Pick it up, Merlin. You really are the worst servant ever."
Merlin shook his head. "No, I remember what happened to the last idiot to pick up your gauntlet."
Arthur scowled. "Yes, as I recall I was drugged by Gaius and locked away like a helpless princess."
Merlin grinned delightedly. "Yes, and what a pretty princess you made. All you needed was a dress from Morgana and a nice hat."
"Do you really want to talk about hats, Merlin?"
Merlin didn't have to think terribly hard. "I'll just get some food from the kitchens."
"You do that."
"Explain to me why you're in my bedroll again?"
"Are you upset because I'm fully clothed? I know you prefer your partners to wear less clothing," Merlin mocked. Arthur just pursed his lips and smacked Merlin on the head. "Ow!"
"Have I told you today how impertinent you are?" Arthur asked as Merlin tried to make himself comfortable without just shoving Arthur out of the bed altogether.
"Not in the last hour, no."
"I suppose I should be glad you're not soaking wet and begging for my body heat."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling you've had that happen before?"
Arthur made a dismissive noise, and yet, it was very warm sharing a bed with Arthur. Even Merlin could admit that much.
"Will you stop complaining if I do actually take off my clothes?" Merlin sat up and fiddled with his neck scarf.
Arthur grabbed his shirt. "No! Please, no!"
Merlin stuck out his lower lip. "I think I should be offended."
"If you don’t shut up, I'm putting you out."
"It's not my fault my bedroll is wet," Merlin complained.
"No one told you to take the shortcut through the lake."
"I didn't do it on purpose; my horse got spooked."
"You're blaming the horse now, Merlin?"
"I could blame you; it'd be much easier, I assure you."
Arthur's face made its 'I am not amused' expression. "Have I ever told you, you're the most crap servant ever?"
"Are you this ungrateful with all the gifts your father gives you?"
Arthur went silent. Apparently, Merlin had hit a nerve. Bollocks.
"Shut up and go to sleep."
"Yes, Sire."
"Could you make the word 'Sire' sound any less important?"
"Would "Your Royal Pratness' be more to your liking?"
Arthur's silence was punctuated by his punching Merlin in the arm. "Ow!"
"Go. To. Sleep. Merlin."
"Yes, Sire."
"Tosser."
"Prat."
"Mentally deficient."
"Arse."
"You can't say that to me!"
"Just did."
"Enough!"
There was something breathing on Merlin's neck. Except the thing wasn't breathing as much as it was sort of nuzzling Merlin's neck. Not in a bad way, but definitely in an inappropriate way.
Merlin was raised in the country. He spent a lot of time behind bales of hay or 'picking herbs in the forest.' He'd known what inappropriate was before he'd known how to spell it.
It was mostly Will's fault.
And then there was the arm around Merlin's waist that wasn't Merlin's own. It was a big arm: heavy, warm. The arm wasn't being untoward, but it was being proprietary. Very proprietary.
Merlin jumped when the mouth bit him.
"You're awake then."
Arthur.
Oh.
Oh.
"Merlin? I asked you a question." Arthur's tone required an answer. "Are you awake now?"
"No?"
Arthur snickered. "So who said 'no' then?"
"A ghost?"
"Ghosts, Merlin, really?"
Merlin wriggled around on the bedroll, elbowing Arthur several times.
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Arthur demanded.
Merlin stopped when he was good and ready, which meant when he'd all but fallen off the bedroll.
"Did you know your elbows are deadly weapons?" Arthur demanded, propping himself up on his hand to stare down at Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. "They work far better than swords."
"For you maybe."
Merlin just blinked.
Arthur sighed and scratched his head. "You know, if you'd wanted me to leave you alone, you could've just said so."
"Well, I would've said so if I'd wanted you to," Merlin retorted.
It was Arthur's turn to blink thoughtfully.
Merlin rolled his eyes. "You're pretty, but you're not very bright, are you?" he asked.
Arthur glared. "I'm not pretty."
Merlin rolled his eyes a bit harder. They were going to get stuck at this rate. "But it's all right if I say you're not very bright?"
Merlin should've been prepared for it when Arthur tackled him. But he wasn't. He was even less prepared to hit his head on that very inconvenient tree root. Or for Arthur to kiss him.
But that happened as well.
And if all of these things had happened separately, then it would've been okay, but they didn't -- they happened together, and they happened to Merlin. And Merlin, well, Merlin was Merlin, which was why when there was a massive crack, Merlin knew it was the tree falling on them before he'd even disentangled his mouth away from Arthur's.
He really did have to get that under control -- but he would have to stop them from being crushed to death first.
To Arthur's credit, he didn't immediately overreact when he saw half of a tree frozen in mid-air two feet above them. He didn't even automatically run Merlin through with his sword when Merlin made the tree sail fifty feet away and land a little too close to the horses, who were even less pleased.
Instead Arthur just shook his head and climbed off of Merlin.
"I should've known," he muttered. "I should have bloody well known."
Merlin scrambled to his feet. "I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you."
"Well you obviously didn't try hard enough, did you, Merlin?" Arthur shouted.
"I did! In Ealdor!"
"When exactly in Ealdor were you referring to? When we were sleeping together? When I asked you if there was anything you needed to tell me? When you let Will die for you?"
"He died protecting you," Merlin said fiercely. "Just as I would've."
"I don't need you to die for me!"
"If I wasn't willing to do so, you wouldn't be here now," Merlin snapped.
And that was when Arthur drew his sword.
Merlin sighed.
"You know that's a bit pointless, right?" Merlin said, looking from Arthur to the sword now at his own throat.
"You have a high opinion of your talents," Arthur replied angrily. The word 'talents' sounded a lot like the word 'leper' on his lips. Or possibly 'marked for death.'
"They've saved you plenty," Merlin retorted.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. Merlin really, really had to stop trying to make this better. "If you didn't want me to think any different of you, why couldn't you just be into buggery like everybody else?"
Merlin opened his mouth, and then, seeing Arthur's look, thought better of it.
It turned out there was something worse than the king finding out you were a warlock and beheading you in the courtyard in front of everyone you knew and the little kids who'd come to know your name and save the most rotten fruit for your day in the stocks, because it didn't leave as many bruises.
Yes, that was exceedingly depressing, but it was final. It was an ending. It was nothing compared to the prince finding out you were a warlock and granting you mercy. Or clemency. Or putting Merlin in such a small box full of silent disdain and withering stares and pointedly ignoring him that it was like Merlin wasn't living at all.
Merlin had expected to go to the dungeon. Or be burned at the stake. Or be beheaded. Or hung, drawn and quartered in the courtyard as an example to all and sundry. Whatever Arthur's punishment was, Merlin expected it to be spectacular and swift -- like Arthur.
Merlin was not expecting to live.
He was not expecting Arthur to fling armour at him and glare in his direction.
He was not expecting Arthur to toss clothes in his face and crockery at his head without telling him what was wrong or what needed to be fixed or how Merlin could make it better.
Merlin was expecting to die; it never occurred to him that living on might be worse.
Clearly, no one had bothered to tell Arthur all about their fantastic destiny of two-head coin-ness and all that palaver.
Merlin wanted a do-over.
Gaius was the first one to notice that things were a bit off, if only because he saw Merlin the most, which meant he saw the most of Merlin’s sulking and moping. On those occasions when Merlin wasn't cursing Arthur's name and lineage and lots of other things that would get him burned anyway.
Gaius was also the one that caught Merlin in a very red dress that was most definitely not his colour and most definitely not his dress, and when Gaius raised his wrinkled brow, Merlin's face turned the same colour as the dress.
"Arthur made me do it," Merlin said flatly.
Gaius snorted. "Yes, because I've never heard that one before."
Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Gaius just shook his head.
For the record: the next time Arthur demanded that Merlin do as he say and put on a dress, Merlin was going to just walk himself to the executioner's block instead. He was not a woman; he had no business in their clothes, and if Arthur was so desperate for amusement, he could put on the sodding dress himself.
It wasn't too long after the episode with the dress - not that there was an episode to speak of beyond Merlin's sheer embarrassment, but that was more than enough - that Gwen noticed something was a bit off. It actually happened the very next day.
"Merlin, are you all right?"
Merlin was furiously polishing the buttons on Arthur's something or other. There were so many items of varying degrees of ridiculousness that Merlin couldn't be bothered to learn all their names.
"I'm fine," he said, glancing up from his perch in a recessed area where he was very much not hiding from Arthur.
Gwen frowned. "I've been hearing - was there something about a dress?"
"No."
Gwen's frown deepened. "Merlin, if Arthur is being cruel or -"
"Or what?" Merlin sighed. "He's the prince, Gwen, who exactly would I take a complaint to? The King? Morgana? I'm sure that would go over brilliantly."
Gwen patted Merlin on the shoulder. "Perhaps it's just a phase."
"A phase of being an insufferable arse?" Merlin said thoughtfully. "Possible, but not likely."
Gwen covered her mouth to cough, but Merlin could see her smile.
"I thought you two got on?" she said after the laughter stopped.
"You were wrong," Merlin said.
He didn't add, "So was I."
He just thought it.
There were days -- many, many days -- when Merlin'd had enough. It was hard not to when his entire interaction with Arthur was a variation on:
"You are the most incompetent, ridiculously simple, useless servant to ever grace Camelot."
"Yes, Sire."
"Are you mocking me?"
"No, Sire."
Merlin's dogged obedience just seemed to infuriate Arthur more.
Merlin knew exactly how he felt.
Being a humble servant was bollocks.
The dragon was no help in the matter at all. All he seemed to care about was Merlin and Arthur's great destiny and coins and being together forever, which at this point was only going to happen because Arthur could have Merlin killed at any moment and Merlin didn't see the point in running off to avoid the inevitable.
"You do realise he's going to have me killed," Merlin complained.
The dragon just snorted, warm plumes of smoke shooting from his nostrils. "He wouldn't dare."
"Really?" Merlin couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. Being so deferential to Arthur didn’t leave him many other outlets. "Would you tell him that?"
"Your destiny is as one," the dragon intoned. "Young Pendragon needs your-"
"You're the only one who seems to believe that at the moment," Merlin interrupted. "So any time you want to share this great fate with his most worshipful pain in my arse, that'd be great."
The dragon smirked. At least it looked like a smirk. Merlin hated it when people -- things - dragons -- smirked at him.
Arthur was the only one allowed to -- never mind that.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
Merlin paused in the recessed doorway and looked around. He didn't think anyone was addressing him; but it had been so long since anyone beside Gaius and Gwen had talked to him, he could be wrong.
"I don't know what you're referring to, father."
"Do not toy with me, Arthur."
No, definitely not talking to Merlin then.
Merlin thought about not listening in, but then thought better of it.
"Father."
"Do not 'father' me, Arthur. You've been out of sorts for weeks. I won't have you stomping around the castle, setting a bad example and scaring the servants. I won't even address the rumours of you and a scarlet woman."
Merlin's eye twitched; that was no woman. He could attest to that.
"That's not what you--," Arthur began only to be cut off by his father.
"A king has to be respected and feared for what he does, not because he'd having a tantrum."
"I'm not having a tantrum."
"I would beg to differ."
So would Merlin.
"Go hunting. Train your knights. Sleep with the one remaining kitchen maid you haven't defiled, but get yourself under control, understood?
Merlin bit his tongue hard. That was the most rubbish advice ever. Arthur absolutely should not defile that last kitchen maid.
"Yes, Sire."
"Where's you shadow?"
Merlin looked over his shoulder. His shadow was right --
"My shadow?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, the simple one with the pointy ears."
Merlin could just imagine the way Arthur's face was twisting into a frown right now. Wait, he didn't have pointy ears!
"Mucking my stalls,' Arthur said flatly.
"Is that a sexual expression?"
Merlin almost choked on his own tongue; thankfully, Arthur's cough covered whatever noise he made.
"No," Arthur insisted. "Most certainly not."
"And he's been doing this for the last three weeks?"
Merlin felt as though he was missing a crucial part of the conversation. Damn eavesdropping that he couldn't see their faces.
"He had to do it over again," Arthur said. "Repeatedly."
Merlin could just envision the king's expression of disbelief; it probably matched his own. "Is there a problem, Arthur?"
"No, sir."
"Good, then I expect to see you and your shadow at the dinner for Lady Goshawk tonight."
"Yes, sir."
Merlin bit his lip. This was going to be a disaster.
Merlin was at the bottom of a very fine bottle of wine.
Actually, that was a lie. Merlin was at the bottom of a rather crap bottle of wine, but he'd managed to pinch it and he didn't have to share it, so he didn't really care.
Arthur was at yet another feast, courting yet another unworthy heifer -- which was a bit mean of Merlin. He was sure Lady Goshawk was a lovely woman, when you got past all the powder and layers of smelly oils -- but she wasn't right for Arthur. She was too old. And -- and who was he kidding? At least Arthur was paying attention to her. Arthur hadn't even acknowledged Merlin waiting on him. Eventually he'd got word that his services were not required.
Bad enough to be dismissed, but to have the court jester passing on the message was just depressing.
Not that Merlin wasn't already depressed.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Merlin looked down at the bottle in his hand and shook it. The wine swilled around and Merlin stared. "Great, now the wine's talking to me as well."
"Is it really?" Merlin's head tilted back all on its own, and there was Gwen peering down at him intently.
Merlin smiled broadly. "Gwen!"
Gwen just shook her head. "How much've you had then?"
Merlin held out the bottle for her. "All of it!" he said proudly.
Merlin looked down his nose, and his eyes almost got stuck. Gwen's arm was coming out the end of his nose! Ah, no, she was holding his head up. Right.
His head flopped down a bit when Gwen let go of it to take the bottle. "All of it, Merlin?" she said with a laugh. "You've barely had --"
Merlin tried to focus, but it was a bit difficult. "There are three of you," he said sagely
"You've had plenty," Gwen decided.
"No, I've not," Merlin said, reaching out for the wine again.
Gwen raised an eyebrow and sat down beside him, keeping the wine just out of Merlin's reach. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"'s nothing to talk about," Merlin said.
He'd once heard that all problems could be solved by alcohol. Of course he'd also heard that most problems were caused by alcohol as well, but he reckoned it couldn't be any worse than it already was. It wasn't as though he'd just woken up that morning and said, "I think I'll be a warlock and put myself in danger of having my head cut off every five minutes." Or better yet, "Since my life's not complicated enough with magic and talking bloody dragons, I know, I'll fancy Prince Pratliness Himself, and won't that be fun."
"Are you sure, Merlin?" Gwen was doing that thing that women did. She was asking questions. Why did she have to ask questions?
"Yes."
"I've noticed you and the prince seem to be --" Gwen waved her hands in a manner which suggested she was either summoning a demon or waiting for Merlin to finish her sentence.
"He's a prat."
"Merlin."
"He is."
"He's the prince."
"He kissed me."
Well, he had. That wasn't the whole story, but it was a good part of it.
Gwen just gave Merlin a wide-eyed look and handed the bottle back.
Merlin took another swig and coughed. "He kissed me," he repeated. "And then he tried to take it back."
Gwen turned her head. "And you didn't want him to take it back?"
"No," Merlin said morosely.
Well, that part was true as well.
"And have you told him that?"
"Told him?" Merlin repeated incredulously.
"I'll take that to mean 'no'."
Merlin sighed. "He's a bit vexed about something I did. Or didn't do. Or didn't say. But he found out anyway." Yet another massive understatement.
Gwen pursed her lips. "Have you apologised?"
"Apologised?"
"Yes, Merlin, apologised."
Merlin made a face. "He wasn't interested in listening."
Gwen frowned. "Well, maybe you're not trying hard enough."
"Not trying hard enough?" Merlin scoffed.
"Oh, Merlin, really."
Merlin sniffed and clutched the wine tighter.
"He's an arse," Merlin said stubbornly.
"And so are you," Gwen agreed.
Merlin could feel his face attempting some sort of offended expression, but it was too much work.
"I don't want Arthur to be angry with me," he confessed.
"Then fix it," Gwen advised.
"How?"
"You'll think of something," Gwen said, "as soon as you sober up."
Merlin hiccupped. "You're the best, Gwen."
"Yes, just not as good as Arthur," Gwen said wryly.
Merlin hiccupped again. "Sorry."
Looking back on it, Merlin could see how passing out in Arthur's bed might've been a bad idea, but at the time, it really did seem like a brilliant plan. If Merlin was there when Arthur came back from the feast, he couldn’t avoid him.
In fact, that idea was only surpassed in brilliance by Merlin taking off all of his clothes first, because he was drunk and his clothes were filthy and Arthur wouldn't want filthy clothes in his clean bed, which Merlin spent every morning making to Arthur's complete and utter dissatisfaction. Merlin knew when Arthur was dissatisfied, because inevitably, after Merlin made up the bed, Arthur ruined it all over again. So on top of all the polishing and the mucking and the silent treatment and the re-polishing and re-mucking and re-silent treatment, Merlin also spent large swathes of time making Arthur's bed.
And this entitled Merlin to sleep in said bed. At least it did until Arthur found Merlin asleep in it.
"What are you doing?" Arthur's voice woke Merlin from a strange dream about a prince poisoned with an apple and little men with mushroom hats doing the washing up.
Merlin yawned. "Sleeping."
"In my bed."
Merlin nodded, burrowing a bit deeper into the cushions. "It's a nice bed."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I know."
Merlin smiled sleepily. And a bit drunkenly, to be honest. "You should get in. It's warm."
"I should get in my bed. With you."
Merlin nodded and yawned again. "'s late."
If Merlin had been a bit more awake, or a bit more sober, he might've caught the timbre of Arthur's voice. Or at least remembered that Arthur was not exactly feeling beneficent towards him at the moment.
At least then he would've been prepared for Arthur summarily shoving him out of the bed and onto the floor.
Merlin's entire body protested the hard, cold landing. It took him several seconds to coordinate his legs enough to stand up. The fact that he was naked didn't really help. Nor did the realisation of what he'd done, which chose that exact time to catch up with the proceedings.
"I'm sorry -- I didn't --" Merlin said, scrambling to pick up his clothes, or put some of them on. Or just not be quite so exposed in front of Arthur. At least not at this particular moment.
It was a shame Merlin hadn't figured out how to go back in time just yet. He could've sorted this all out and saved himself the mess.
"Get. Out." Arthur said sharply.
"Arthur, I didn't mean -- I was trying to apologise."
"You thought sleeping in my bed naked was the way to apologise?" Arthur's tone was clipped and sharp. Like his father's.
"Yes -- no -- I -- it seemed like a good idea at the time?" Merlin offered.
Arthur just stared.
Yeah, Merlin probably should've left that one alone.
"Leave, Merlin."
Merlin paused with one leg in his breeches and his shirt on inside out. "Arthur, please."
"You will address me properly," Arthur warned.
"I wasn't trying -- Sire -- I'm sorry," Merlin tried again.
Arthur just turned away.
This time, Merlin took the hint.
Despite living in a castle with copious drinkers, Merlin was not particularly able to hold his ale. Or his wine. Or anything stronger than water to be honest. So it was with great horror that he woke up the next morning with something dancing in his skull. He pulled the bed clothes a bit tighter over his head and prayed for death or silence or at least an immediate beheading.
"Tempting," a very, very familiar voice said. One that did not belong in Merlin's head. "Don't think I haven't considered it."
Merlin opened one eye and peered over the edge of his covering. "It is you," he said despairingly.
Arthur face was completely impassive. "Yes, it's me."
Merlin sat up immediately and regretted it even sooner. "I - I'm sorry, your highness, I'm late, I'll -"
"Oh, you're not sorry yet, but you will be," Arthur said flatly.
"Am I off to the stocks?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Not yet."
"To the dungeons?"
Arthur's mouth twitched at the corners, which made Merlin suspicious. Actually, it mostly just made him afraid. Deeply afraid. "Not yet," Arthur replied.
"Shall I just get dressed then?"
"That might help," Arthur said dryly.
"Of course, Sire."
"And be sure to dress appropriately," Arthur said after a moment. "You're training today. With me."
Merlin could feel the horrified look on his face before he could control it.
Arthur leaned in. "Your magic won't save you this time," he said softly.
Merlin didn't whimper. At least he hoped he didn't. It was hard to tell with all the banging in his skull. "I don't think that's a good idea, you know."
At this Arthur laughed. Personally, Merlin didn't think he had to be that loud.
"I know intelligence is disproportionate to looks, but, Merlin, at no time are you allowed to tell me 'no.'"
"It wasn't a 'no'," Merlin tried. "It was more of a suggestion."
"Only advisors make suggestions," Arthur said.
Merlin blinked. It was early. Too early for sparring with Arthur. Especially an Arthur that was already dressed. Merlin's head hurt. "Wait, dispro - po - poo -- does that mean you think I'm good-looking?"
Arthur paused in the door frame. "I prefer my partners slightly less pickled, if it's all the same to you," he said wryly before slamming the door.
Merlin would've gaped if his head had stopped aching long enough for him to do so.
In light of recent events, Merlin felt he'd reached his quota of very, very bad things happening to him, what with the three-headed dog and the carnivorous trees and Arthur kissing him and then not talking to him and the red dress of infamy and the hangover of death, so when a nine-headed snake emerged from the lake near where Arthur was unceremoniously beating the snot out of Merlin with a bloody great stick in the name of sword practise, Merlin really couldn't be bothered to cause a fuss.
Arthur, however, with only a stick to defend him, didn't seem as relaxed. Probably because the snake was slithering and hissing in his immediate direction.
"Do something, Merlin!" Arthur demanded.
"Sorry, Sire," Merlin said, "magic is forbidden in Camelot."
"Are you serious?" Arthur's voice seemed dangerously high-pitched. Merlin couldn't imagine why. Of course the nine-headed snaked wasn't after him.
"Of course I am, Sire," Merlin said. "What would you have me do that would send me to the executioner?"
Arthur's mouth dropped open and Merlin grinned. "That's not funny."
Merlin glanced at the snake. "No, I don't think I'm laughing. I might be, but you know, my head and all that wine…"
"Merlin!" Arthur demanded.
Merlin shook his head and flicked his wrist sharply. The snake's heads began twisting around each other and in several seconds it had managed to strangle itself.
Merlin nodded in satisfaction and then held out his wrists as though awaiting the guards. "Are you going to send me to the block now?" he asked.
Arthur flung his practise sword at Merlin, which caught on the breeze and nearly took out Arthur's eye. Merlin just stood there among the trees waiting as Arthur tramped around the asphyxiated snake’s heads.
"You are so infuriating," Arthur sputtered. "Put your hands down!"
Merlin lowered his hands. "I did magic. You know what I am; was it really so wrong of me to imagine something was going to happen to me in light of your behaviour?"
Arthur opened and closed his mouth once. Twice. "I was angry because you withheld the truth, not because you're a - you know."
Merlin scoffed. "And you expect to me believe that?"
"I was snogging you at the time - forgive me for being angry at finding out that you don't fancy me by you almost letting a tree kill me."
Merlin blinked. "You are a complete idiot. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"I am not."
"You most certainly are," Merlin insisted. "The tree almost killed us both, in case you hadn't noticed."
It was Arthur's turn to blink owlishly. "Ah."
"Yes, 'ah'," Merlin said. "I thought you were tormenting me because of my - my magic. Turns out you were tormenting me because you're a twisted bastard, who doesn't know when I'm snogging you back."
Arthur scoffed. "I've known about your magic, as you call it, since you sent that glowing ball of whatever to save me in the caves."
Merlin didn’t have to pretend to be confused. "Glowing ball of whatever? What's that then?"
"It'll tell you later."
"You do that - and speaking of you being twisted, is that what the dress was about?"
"No, that was just for a laugh."
The wind picked up around them. Arthur looked around in confusion. "Is that - is that -- there wasn't a breeze a moment ago."
"And that's why the tree almost killed us," Merlin said with finality.
"That makes no sense."
"Control issues."
"You mean your lack thereof," Arthur corrected.
"So, just like you then," Merlin said with a smile.
Arthur's mouth thinned into a line and Merlin decided that that was an excellent time to kiss him. Arthur's mouth was dry, his lips cracked, but he made the most delightfully undignified noises when Merlin kissed him. When Merlin pulled back, Arthur looked upwards as though searching the sky for something.
"What're you looking for?" Merlin asked.
"I'm waiting for a tree to drop on my head."
Merlin laughed. "I think you'll need less clothing for that trick."
Arthur smirked. "I'll hold you to that, you know."
"Promises, promises," Merlin sighed.
Epilogue
"Would it help if I blindfolded you?" Arthur suggested.
Merlin glared up at Arthur. Or he attempted to, it was rather hard to glare with Arthur shirtless and leaning over him. Plus, Arthur's hair was mussed and his mouth was very red and puffy. Merlin had been kissing it quite a bit. This did not lend itself to great pronouncements of intelligence.
"I know you have certain tastes, Arthur, but let's deal with the basics first, shall we?"
Arthur's lower lip stuck out; Merlin tried to lean in and bite it, but Arthur was just a sliver too far away. It was very distressing.
"The basics won't matter if you set the entire castle on fire," Arthur said.
Merlin scowled. "I set the curtains on fire that one time. One time. They were too close to the candles!"
"Yes, and you still had your clothes on that one time. I'm just not sure it's worth the risk of me taking off all my clothes as well," Merlin opened his mouth, but Arthur carried on. "Someone is going to have to be dressed and presentable when the ramparts go up in flames. We all know it won't be you."
Merlin snapped his fingers and all the candles went out. It took his eyes a moment to adjust in the darkness. "Happy now?" he snipped, even while wriggling under Arthur.
Arthur made a noncommittal noise and shifted his weight over Merlin, who arched upwards as Arthur slid down his body, the fabric of Arthur's breeches rubbing against Merlin's cock.
"I'm very happy now," Arthur confessed against the shell of Merlin's ear.
The fabric of Arthur's breeches was rough, but Merlin didn't give a flying toss after Arthur wedged a thigh between Merlin's legs. A very high-pitched noise escaped from Merlin's lips when Arthur nipped his collar bone and then laved away the sting with his tongue.
Merlin's hands grappled at Arthur's breeches, fiddling with the laces just enough so he could slide his hands down the back. Arthur grunted as Merlin gripped his backside and urged him down and up and down again, however, Merlin completely lost his place when Arthur reached down and wrapped his hand around Merlin's erection.
Merlin thrust eagerly into Arthur's hand as Arthur's thumb teased the head of his cock. He grabbed fistfuls of Arthur's hair and kissed him messily, sucking Arthur's tongue into his mouth.
Arthur groaned his approval, his hand quickening on Merlin. Merlin had to pull away to breathe, to think, to not bite Arthur and possibly end this new round of evening activities.
Merlin's eyes closed tightly as Arthur whispered in his ear, promising that this was just the beginning. That this was fated.
Merlin came hard enough that he saw sparks and flares of light. His entire spine went taunt and then boneless. It took him a minute to register Arthur's disapproving noises.
And then he opened his eyes.
Apparently, he hadn't imagined the lights. "Ah, sorry," he said.
Arthur just rolled his eyes at the candles and the fire now blazing in the hearth. "Oh, Merlin, really," he said with an amused laugh.
-end-
Again this is dedicated to everyone who insisted that I really really had to watch Merlin, but it would never have been possible without the cheerleading, poking and beta work of sparky77 and lazlet. Thank you, ladies, you make it all work.
Merlin
Merlin/Arthur, Arthur/OFC (s)
Rated R
In Light of Recent Events or Why One Should Never Take the Piss With Royalty
"That was a bad idea, wasn't it?" Merlin asked while picking smouldering twigs out of his own hair.
Arthur glanced up from extracting splinters from his fingers.
"That was the worst idea ever, Merlin."
Merlin bristled. "Oh, well I'm sorry, your most unappreciative worshipfulness. Next time I won't risk life and limb to free you from the clutches of the bewitched trees, and instead I'll let the three-headed dog eat you alive. Then you won't have to suffer through my horrible ideas."
Far be it from Merlin to agree with Arthur, especially when Arthur was right. And yet, it had been much better to let the carnivorous trees eat the three-headed dog instead of eating Arthur. Merlin was certain of that.
At least he'd been certain of that at the time, but now that they were sitting peacefully in the meadow, and Arthur was continuing to complain, he was having second thoughts.
Arthur glared. "Shut up, Merlin."
"You started it."
"I started it? You almost died. Again," Arthur complained.
"Yes, because I obviously did it on purpose."
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur repeated.
"Far be it from me to sacrifice myself for my prince," Merlin taunted.
"Your prince."
"Well, as your manservant, aren't I supposed to serve you? I put you first."
Arthur narrowed his eyes as though he thought Merlin were teasing him, but he couldn't quite be sure, which Merlin though was ridiculous, because of course he was taking the piss.
"I never told you to put me first," Arthur retorted finally.
'No, you just glare at me and expect me to lie down in puddles, so you don't soil your shoes."
"I would never--"
"I stand corrected," Merlin amended, "you would most likely step in the puddles, just so you could order me to clean your already filthy boots."
Arthur tossed several splinters in Merlin's direction. They were carried off by a light breeze and ended up in Arthur's hair. "Are you always this foul after you almost die?"
"I'm sorry, some of us don't get use to almost dying, Sire."
Arthur scowled. "You are the most ungrateful brat I have ever been forced to interact with."
"Takes one to know one."
Arthur blinked as Merlin got to his feet. "Did you really say that?"
"I don't know, did I?"
"You do realise I'm going to send you to the stocks, don't you?"
Merlin rolled his eyes before offering Arthur a hand up. "Well, if I'm in the stocks, then I can't get eaten, can I?"
Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand and yanked him back down on the ground. Merlin stumbled onto his knees as Arthur used the top of Merlin's head to propel himself to his feet.
"You are incorrigible," Arthur said with a grin.
Merlin glared from on his knees. "I didn't know you knew words that big."
"I really am going to run you through with my sword."
"You know, under other circumstances that might concern me, but as I almost just died, sorry, can't really be that concerned."
"You are insufferable."
"Yes, and you're alive. You're welcome."
Arthur sputtered, but offered Merlin a hand up anyway.
There was something about near-death experiences that made Merlin sleep like the dead. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn't dead, and so he could appreciate the fact that he'd be waking up in the morning. Well, theoretically he'd be waking up in the morning. He was starting to learn that taking things for granted -- like waking up in the morning -- was probably not the best way to survive Camelot.
Although, walking in on Arthur having sexual relations with one of the scullery maids was probably going to blind him. And if he were blind, he might wander out into the forest and get eaten alive by something unpleasant anyway.
It would have been all right if it had only been the one time. Merlin could appreciate that people celebrated near-death experiences differently. Merlin slept; Arthur shagged.
Except that it happened again. And again.
Two days later it was one of the housemaids.
Four days after that it was one of the dishwashers. And her brother.
The next afternoon, it was one of the footmen.
Someone had to draw a line somewhere. Surely there were a maximum number of people you were allowed to shag per near-death experience. Not that Arthur hadn't accumulated a rather staggering number of near-death experiences: the poisoned chalice, the black knight, the sphinx and Merlin's attempts at sword practise were just a few highlights. And yet, that was no reason to shag the entire household in one go.
Merlin wasn't jealous; he was just tired of cleaning up the mess. And trying to bring in Arthur's breakfast backwards, so he didn't have to see Arthur and whatever harlot -- or whatever the male version of a harlot was -- going at it like two, or three rabbits.
"Merlin, you can look, I promise there's nothing to offend your delicate sensibilities."
Yes, there was nothing to offend Merlin's delicate sensibilities as long as he didn't count the washerwoman bouncing up and down on Arthur's lap in an unmistakable way. Yes, couldn't really mistake that with all the naked bits on display. Far too many bits for Merlin.
Arthur's armour landed on the floor with a massive crash, and yet, the woman never broke her stride.
Merlin had to give her credit: some people could get the job done regardless of who was watching.
Or not watching. No, Merlin was definitely not watching.
"I'm just going to go polish your sword now," Merlin said, scooping up the armour and dashing out the door.
If Arthur called after him, he didn't hear it.
Arthur found Merlin in the stables. Although considering Arthur was the one who banished Merlin to said stables after breakfast to 'pick manure out of the horses' hooves, because it irritates them,' that wasn't terribly shocking.
What was shocking was that Merlin didn't stab Arthur in the foot with a hoof pick when Arthur announced his presence. "We're going hunting."
Merlin didn't bother to look up. He didn't want to be tempted to do something that would end worse than with him in the stocks. "We are? Since when?"
"Since now."
"Can you do that?" Merlin asked a particularly stubborn bit of dung.
"I'm the prince; I can do whatever I want."
At this, Merlin had to stand up. He was entirely too young for his back to hurt this much.
Before he came to Camelot, Merlin had no idea you could just announce that you were taking several days off to go hunting and nobody would blink an eye. In Ealdor, if you went hunting, you came home that night. Not that Merlin ever went hunting -- not really the hunting type -- but since Merlin had met Arthur he'd found that types only existed so that he could not fit into them.
He shook his head. "And you wonder why I call you an arrogant, insufferable, pompous--"
"Since when am I pompous?"
"Oh, I must've just come up with that one."
Merlin ducked as Arthur threw an errant gauntlet at his head.
It bounced harmlessly off of the wall behind his head and landed on the floor with a clatter.
Arthur looked at Merlin expectantly. "Well?"
Merlin blanked. "Well, what?"
"Pick it up, Merlin. You really are the worst servant ever."
Merlin shook his head. "No, I remember what happened to the last idiot to pick up your gauntlet."
Arthur scowled. "Yes, as I recall I was drugged by Gaius and locked away like a helpless princess."
Merlin grinned delightedly. "Yes, and what a pretty princess you made. All you needed was a dress from Morgana and a nice hat."
"Do you really want to talk about hats, Merlin?"
Merlin didn't have to think terribly hard. "I'll just get some food from the kitchens."
"You do that."
"Explain to me why you're in my bedroll again?"
"Are you upset because I'm fully clothed? I know you prefer your partners to wear less clothing," Merlin mocked. Arthur just pursed his lips and smacked Merlin on the head. "Ow!"
"Have I told you today how impertinent you are?" Arthur asked as Merlin tried to make himself comfortable without just shoving Arthur out of the bed altogether.
"Not in the last hour, no."
"I suppose I should be glad you're not soaking wet and begging for my body heat."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling you've had that happen before?"
Arthur made a dismissive noise, and yet, it was very warm sharing a bed with Arthur. Even Merlin could admit that much.
"Will you stop complaining if I do actually take off my clothes?" Merlin sat up and fiddled with his neck scarf.
Arthur grabbed his shirt. "No! Please, no!"
Merlin stuck out his lower lip. "I think I should be offended."
"If you don’t shut up, I'm putting you out."
"It's not my fault my bedroll is wet," Merlin complained.
"No one told you to take the shortcut through the lake."
"I didn't do it on purpose; my horse got spooked."
"You're blaming the horse now, Merlin?"
"I could blame you; it'd be much easier, I assure you."
Arthur's face made its 'I am not amused' expression. "Have I ever told you, you're the most crap servant ever?"
"Are you this ungrateful with all the gifts your father gives you?"
Arthur went silent. Apparently, Merlin had hit a nerve. Bollocks.
"Shut up and go to sleep."
"Yes, Sire."
"Could you make the word 'Sire' sound any less important?"
"Would "Your Royal Pratness' be more to your liking?"
Arthur's silence was punctuated by his punching Merlin in the arm. "Ow!"
"Go. To. Sleep. Merlin."
"Yes, Sire."
"Tosser."
"Prat."
"Mentally deficient."
"Arse."
"You can't say that to me!"
"Just did."
"Enough!"
There was something breathing on Merlin's neck. Except the thing wasn't breathing as much as it was sort of nuzzling Merlin's neck. Not in a bad way, but definitely in an inappropriate way.
Merlin was raised in the country. He spent a lot of time behind bales of hay or 'picking herbs in the forest.' He'd known what inappropriate was before he'd known how to spell it.
It was mostly Will's fault.
And then there was the arm around Merlin's waist that wasn't Merlin's own. It was a big arm: heavy, warm. The arm wasn't being untoward, but it was being proprietary. Very proprietary.
Merlin jumped when the mouth bit him.
"You're awake then."
Arthur.
Oh.
Oh.
"Merlin? I asked you a question." Arthur's tone required an answer. "Are you awake now?"
"No?"
Arthur snickered. "So who said 'no' then?"
"A ghost?"
"Ghosts, Merlin, really?"
Merlin wriggled around on the bedroll, elbowing Arthur several times.
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Arthur demanded.
Merlin stopped when he was good and ready, which meant when he'd all but fallen off the bedroll.
"Did you know your elbows are deadly weapons?" Arthur demanded, propping himself up on his hand to stare down at Merlin.
Merlin shrugged. "They work far better than swords."
"For you maybe."
Merlin just blinked.
Arthur sighed and scratched his head. "You know, if you'd wanted me to leave you alone, you could've just said so."
"Well, I would've said so if I'd wanted you to," Merlin retorted.
It was Arthur's turn to blink thoughtfully.
Merlin rolled his eyes. "You're pretty, but you're not very bright, are you?" he asked.
Arthur glared. "I'm not pretty."
Merlin rolled his eyes a bit harder. They were going to get stuck at this rate. "But it's all right if I say you're not very bright?"
Merlin should've been prepared for it when Arthur tackled him. But he wasn't. He was even less prepared to hit his head on that very inconvenient tree root. Or for Arthur to kiss him.
But that happened as well.
And if all of these things had happened separately, then it would've been okay, but they didn't -- they happened together, and they happened to Merlin. And Merlin, well, Merlin was Merlin, which was why when there was a massive crack, Merlin knew it was the tree falling on them before he'd even disentangled his mouth away from Arthur's.
He really did have to get that under control -- but he would have to stop them from being crushed to death first.
To Arthur's credit, he didn't immediately overreact when he saw half of a tree frozen in mid-air two feet above them. He didn't even automatically run Merlin through with his sword when Merlin made the tree sail fifty feet away and land a little too close to the horses, who were even less pleased.
Instead Arthur just shook his head and climbed off of Merlin.
"I should've known," he muttered. "I should have bloody well known."
Merlin scrambled to his feet. "I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you."
"Well you obviously didn't try hard enough, did you, Merlin?" Arthur shouted.
"I did! In Ealdor!"
"When exactly in Ealdor were you referring to? When we were sleeping together? When I asked you if there was anything you needed to tell me? When you let Will die for you?"
"He died protecting you," Merlin said fiercely. "Just as I would've."
"I don't need you to die for me!"
"If I wasn't willing to do so, you wouldn't be here now," Merlin snapped.
And that was when Arthur drew his sword.
Merlin sighed.
"You know that's a bit pointless, right?" Merlin said, looking from Arthur to the sword now at his own throat.
"You have a high opinion of your talents," Arthur replied angrily. The word 'talents' sounded a lot like the word 'leper' on his lips. Or possibly 'marked for death.'
"They've saved you plenty," Merlin retorted.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. Merlin really, really had to stop trying to make this better. "If you didn't want me to think any different of you, why couldn't you just be into buggery like everybody else?"
Merlin opened his mouth, and then, seeing Arthur's look, thought better of it.
It turned out there was something worse than the king finding out you were a warlock and beheading you in the courtyard in front of everyone you knew and the little kids who'd come to know your name and save the most rotten fruit for your day in the stocks, because it didn't leave as many bruises.
Yes, that was exceedingly depressing, but it was final. It was an ending. It was nothing compared to the prince finding out you were a warlock and granting you mercy. Or clemency. Or putting Merlin in such a small box full of silent disdain and withering stares and pointedly ignoring him that it was like Merlin wasn't living at all.
Merlin had expected to go to the dungeon. Or be burned at the stake. Or be beheaded. Or hung, drawn and quartered in the courtyard as an example to all and sundry. Whatever Arthur's punishment was, Merlin expected it to be spectacular and swift -- like Arthur.
Merlin was not expecting to live.
He was not expecting Arthur to fling armour at him and glare in his direction.
He was not expecting Arthur to toss clothes in his face and crockery at his head without telling him what was wrong or what needed to be fixed or how Merlin could make it better.
Merlin was expecting to die; it never occurred to him that living on might be worse.
Clearly, no one had bothered to tell Arthur all about their fantastic destiny of two-head coin-ness and all that palaver.
Merlin wanted a do-over.
Gaius was the first one to notice that things were a bit off, if only because he saw Merlin the most, which meant he saw the most of Merlin’s sulking and moping. On those occasions when Merlin wasn't cursing Arthur's name and lineage and lots of other things that would get him burned anyway.
Gaius was also the one that caught Merlin in a very red dress that was most definitely not his colour and most definitely not his dress, and when Gaius raised his wrinkled brow, Merlin's face turned the same colour as the dress.
"Arthur made me do it," Merlin said flatly.
Gaius snorted. "Yes, because I've never heard that one before."
Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Gaius just shook his head.
For the record: the next time Arthur demanded that Merlin do as he say and put on a dress, Merlin was going to just walk himself to the executioner's block instead. He was not a woman; he had no business in their clothes, and if Arthur was so desperate for amusement, he could put on the sodding dress himself.
It wasn't too long after the episode with the dress - not that there was an episode to speak of beyond Merlin's sheer embarrassment, but that was more than enough - that Gwen noticed something was a bit off. It actually happened the very next day.
"Merlin, are you all right?"
Merlin was furiously polishing the buttons on Arthur's something or other. There were so many items of varying degrees of ridiculousness that Merlin couldn't be bothered to learn all their names.
"I'm fine," he said, glancing up from his perch in a recessed area where he was very much not hiding from Arthur.
Gwen frowned. "I've been hearing - was there something about a dress?"
"No."
Gwen's frown deepened. "Merlin, if Arthur is being cruel or -"
"Or what?" Merlin sighed. "He's the prince, Gwen, who exactly would I take a complaint to? The King? Morgana? I'm sure that would go over brilliantly."
Gwen patted Merlin on the shoulder. "Perhaps it's just a phase."
"A phase of being an insufferable arse?" Merlin said thoughtfully. "Possible, but not likely."
Gwen covered her mouth to cough, but Merlin could see her smile.
"I thought you two got on?" she said after the laughter stopped.
"You were wrong," Merlin said.
He didn't add, "So was I."
He just thought it.
There were days -- many, many days -- when Merlin'd had enough. It was hard not to when his entire interaction with Arthur was a variation on:
"You are the most incompetent, ridiculously simple, useless servant to ever grace Camelot."
"Yes, Sire."
"Are you mocking me?"
"No, Sire."
Merlin's dogged obedience just seemed to infuriate Arthur more.
Merlin knew exactly how he felt.
Being a humble servant was bollocks.
The dragon was no help in the matter at all. All he seemed to care about was Merlin and Arthur's great destiny and coins and being together forever, which at this point was only going to happen because Arthur could have Merlin killed at any moment and Merlin didn't see the point in running off to avoid the inevitable.
"You do realise he's going to have me killed," Merlin complained.
The dragon just snorted, warm plumes of smoke shooting from his nostrils. "He wouldn't dare."
"Really?" Merlin couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. Being so deferential to Arthur didn’t leave him many other outlets. "Would you tell him that?"
"Your destiny is as one," the dragon intoned. "Young Pendragon needs your-"
"You're the only one who seems to believe that at the moment," Merlin interrupted. "So any time you want to share this great fate with his most worshipful pain in my arse, that'd be great."
The dragon smirked. At least it looked like a smirk. Merlin hated it when people -- things - dragons -- smirked at him.
Arthur was the only one allowed to -- never mind that.
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
Merlin paused in the recessed doorway and looked around. He didn't think anyone was addressing him; but it had been so long since anyone beside Gaius and Gwen had talked to him, he could be wrong.
"I don't know what you're referring to, father."
"Do not toy with me, Arthur."
No, definitely not talking to Merlin then.
Merlin thought about not listening in, but then thought better of it.
"Father."
"Do not 'father' me, Arthur. You've been out of sorts for weeks. I won't have you stomping around the castle, setting a bad example and scaring the servants. I won't even address the rumours of you and a scarlet woman."
Merlin's eye twitched; that was no woman. He could attest to that.
"That's not what you--," Arthur began only to be cut off by his father.
"A king has to be respected and feared for what he does, not because he'd having a tantrum."
"I'm not having a tantrum."
"I would beg to differ."
So would Merlin.
"Go hunting. Train your knights. Sleep with the one remaining kitchen maid you haven't defiled, but get yourself under control, understood?
Merlin bit his tongue hard. That was the most rubbish advice ever. Arthur absolutely should not defile that last kitchen maid.
"Yes, Sire."
"Where's you shadow?"
Merlin looked over his shoulder. His shadow was right --
"My shadow?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, the simple one with the pointy ears."
Merlin could just imagine the way Arthur's face was twisting into a frown right now. Wait, he didn't have pointy ears!
"Mucking my stalls,' Arthur said flatly.
"Is that a sexual expression?"
Merlin almost choked on his own tongue; thankfully, Arthur's cough covered whatever noise he made.
"No," Arthur insisted. "Most certainly not."
"And he's been doing this for the last three weeks?"
Merlin felt as though he was missing a crucial part of the conversation. Damn eavesdropping that he couldn't see their faces.
"He had to do it over again," Arthur said. "Repeatedly."
Merlin could just envision the king's expression of disbelief; it probably matched his own. "Is there a problem, Arthur?"
"No, sir."
"Good, then I expect to see you and your shadow at the dinner for Lady Goshawk tonight."
"Yes, sir."
Merlin bit his lip. This was going to be a disaster.
Merlin was at the bottom of a very fine bottle of wine.
Actually, that was a lie. Merlin was at the bottom of a rather crap bottle of wine, but he'd managed to pinch it and he didn't have to share it, so he didn't really care.
Arthur was at yet another feast, courting yet another unworthy heifer -- which was a bit mean of Merlin. He was sure Lady Goshawk was a lovely woman, when you got past all the powder and layers of smelly oils -- but she wasn't right for Arthur. She was too old. And -- and who was he kidding? At least Arthur was paying attention to her. Arthur hadn't even acknowledged Merlin waiting on him. Eventually he'd got word that his services were not required.
Bad enough to be dismissed, but to have the court jester passing on the message was just depressing.
Not that Merlin wasn't already depressed.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Merlin looked down at the bottle in his hand and shook it. The wine swilled around and Merlin stared. "Great, now the wine's talking to me as well."
"Is it really?" Merlin's head tilted back all on its own, and there was Gwen peering down at him intently.
Merlin smiled broadly. "Gwen!"
Gwen just shook her head. "How much've you had then?"
Merlin held out the bottle for her. "All of it!" he said proudly.
Merlin looked down his nose, and his eyes almost got stuck. Gwen's arm was coming out the end of his nose! Ah, no, she was holding his head up. Right.
His head flopped down a bit when Gwen let go of it to take the bottle. "All of it, Merlin?" she said with a laugh. "You've barely had --"
Merlin tried to focus, but it was a bit difficult. "There are three of you," he said sagely
"You've had plenty," Gwen decided.
"No, I've not," Merlin said, reaching out for the wine again.
Gwen raised an eyebrow and sat down beside him, keeping the wine just out of Merlin's reach. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"'s nothing to talk about," Merlin said.
He'd once heard that all problems could be solved by alcohol. Of course he'd also heard that most problems were caused by alcohol as well, but he reckoned it couldn't be any worse than it already was. It wasn't as though he'd just woken up that morning and said, "I think I'll be a warlock and put myself in danger of having my head cut off every five minutes." Or better yet, "Since my life's not complicated enough with magic and talking bloody dragons, I know, I'll fancy Prince Pratliness Himself, and won't that be fun."
"Are you sure, Merlin?" Gwen was doing that thing that women did. She was asking questions. Why did she have to ask questions?
"Yes."
"I've noticed you and the prince seem to be --" Gwen waved her hands in a manner which suggested she was either summoning a demon or waiting for Merlin to finish her sentence.
"He's a prat."
"Merlin."
"He is."
"He's the prince."
"He kissed me."
Well, he had. That wasn't the whole story, but it was a good part of it.
Gwen just gave Merlin a wide-eyed look and handed the bottle back.
Merlin took another swig and coughed. "He kissed me," he repeated. "And then he tried to take it back."
Gwen turned her head. "And you didn't want him to take it back?"
"No," Merlin said morosely.
Well, that part was true as well.
"And have you told him that?"
"Told him?" Merlin repeated incredulously.
"I'll take that to mean 'no'."
Merlin sighed. "He's a bit vexed about something I did. Or didn't do. Or didn't say. But he found out anyway." Yet another massive understatement.
Gwen pursed her lips. "Have you apologised?"
"Apologised?"
"Yes, Merlin, apologised."
Merlin made a face. "He wasn't interested in listening."
Gwen frowned. "Well, maybe you're not trying hard enough."
"Not trying hard enough?" Merlin scoffed.
"Oh, Merlin, really."
Merlin sniffed and clutched the wine tighter.
"He's an arse," Merlin said stubbornly.
"And so are you," Gwen agreed.
Merlin could feel his face attempting some sort of offended expression, but it was too much work.
"I don't want Arthur to be angry with me," he confessed.
"Then fix it," Gwen advised.
"How?"
"You'll think of something," Gwen said, "as soon as you sober up."
Merlin hiccupped. "You're the best, Gwen."
"Yes, just not as good as Arthur," Gwen said wryly.
Merlin hiccupped again. "Sorry."
Looking back on it, Merlin could see how passing out in Arthur's bed might've been a bad idea, but at the time, it really did seem like a brilliant plan. If Merlin was there when Arthur came back from the feast, he couldn’t avoid him.
In fact, that idea was only surpassed in brilliance by Merlin taking off all of his clothes first, because he was drunk and his clothes were filthy and Arthur wouldn't want filthy clothes in his clean bed, which Merlin spent every morning making to Arthur's complete and utter dissatisfaction. Merlin knew when Arthur was dissatisfied, because inevitably, after Merlin made up the bed, Arthur ruined it all over again. So on top of all the polishing and the mucking and the silent treatment and the re-polishing and re-mucking and re-silent treatment, Merlin also spent large swathes of time making Arthur's bed.
And this entitled Merlin to sleep in said bed. At least it did until Arthur found Merlin asleep in it.
"What are you doing?" Arthur's voice woke Merlin from a strange dream about a prince poisoned with an apple and little men with mushroom hats doing the washing up.
Merlin yawned. "Sleeping."
"In my bed."
Merlin nodded, burrowing a bit deeper into the cushions. "It's a nice bed."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I know."
Merlin smiled sleepily. And a bit drunkenly, to be honest. "You should get in. It's warm."
"I should get in my bed. With you."
Merlin nodded and yawned again. "'s late."
If Merlin had been a bit more awake, or a bit more sober, he might've caught the timbre of Arthur's voice. Or at least remembered that Arthur was not exactly feeling beneficent towards him at the moment.
At least then he would've been prepared for Arthur summarily shoving him out of the bed and onto the floor.
Merlin's entire body protested the hard, cold landing. It took him several seconds to coordinate his legs enough to stand up. The fact that he was naked didn't really help. Nor did the realisation of what he'd done, which chose that exact time to catch up with the proceedings.
"I'm sorry -- I didn't --" Merlin said, scrambling to pick up his clothes, or put some of them on. Or just not be quite so exposed in front of Arthur. At least not at this particular moment.
It was a shame Merlin hadn't figured out how to go back in time just yet. He could've sorted this all out and saved himself the mess.
"Get. Out." Arthur said sharply.
"Arthur, I didn't mean -- I was trying to apologise."
"You thought sleeping in my bed naked was the way to apologise?" Arthur's tone was clipped and sharp. Like his father's.
"Yes -- no -- I -- it seemed like a good idea at the time?" Merlin offered.
Arthur just stared.
Yeah, Merlin probably should've left that one alone.
"Leave, Merlin."
Merlin paused with one leg in his breeches and his shirt on inside out. "Arthur, please."
"You will address me properly," Arthur warned.
"I wasn't trying -- Sire -- I'm sorry," Merlin tried again.
Arthur just turned away.
This time, Merlin took the hint.
Despite living in a castle with copious drinkers, Merlin was not particularly able to hold his ale. Or his wine. Or anything stronger than water to be honest. So it was with great horror that he woke up the next morning with something dancing in his skull. He pulled the bed clothes a bit tighter over his head and prayed for death or silence or at least an immediate beheading.
"Tempting," a very, very familiar voice said. One that did not belong in Merlin's head. "Don't think I haven't considered it."
Merlin opened one eye and peered over the edge of his covering. "It is you," he said despairingly.
Arthur face was completely impassive. "Yes, it's me."
Merlin sat up immediately and regretted it even sooner. "I - I'm sorry, your highness, I'm late, I'll -"
"Oh, you're not sorry yet, but you will be," Arthur said flatly.
"Am I off to the stocks?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Not yet."
"To the dungeons?"
Arthur's mouth twitched at the corners, which made Merlin suspicious. Actually, it mostly just made him afraid. Deeply afraid. "Not yet," Arthur replied.
"Shall I just get dressed then?"
"That might help," Arthur said dryly.
"Of course, Sire."
"And be sure to dress appropriately," Arthur said after a moment. "You're training today. With me."
Merlin could feel the horrified look on his face before he could control it.
Arthur leaned in. "Your magic won't save you this time," he said softly.
Merlin didn't whimper. At least he hoped he didn't. It was hard to tell with all the banging in his skull. "I don't think that's a good idea, you know."
At this Arthur laughed. Personally, Merlin didn't think he had to be that loud.
"I know intelligence is disproportionate to looks, but, Merlin, at no time are you allowed to tell me 'no.'"
"It wasn't a 'no'," Merlin tried. "It was more of a suggestion."
"Only advisors make suggestions," Arthur said.
Merlin blinked. It was early. Too early for sparring with Arthur. Especially an Arthur that was already dressed. Merlin's head hurt. "Wait, dispro - po - poo -- does that mean you think I'm good-looking?"
Arthur paused in the door frame. "I prefer my partners slightly less pickled, if it's all the same to you," he said wryly before slamming the door.
Merlin would've gaped if his head had stopped aching long enough for him to do so.
In light of recent events, Merlin felt he'd reached his quota of very, very bad things happening to him, what with the three-headed dog and the carnivorous trees and Arthur kissing him and then not talking to him and the red dress of infamy and the hangover of death, so when a nine-headed snake emerged from the lake near where Arthur was unceremoniously beating the snot out of Merlin with a bloody great stick in the name of sword practise, Merlin really couldn't be bothered to cause a fuss.
Arthur, however, with only a stick to defend him, didn't seem as relaxed. Probably because the snake was slithering and hissing in his immediate direction.
"Do something, Merlin!" Arthur demanded.
"Sorry, Sire," Merlin said, "magic is forbidden in Camelot."
"Are you serious?" Arthur's voice seemed dangerously high-pitched. Merlin couldn't imagine why. Of course the nine-headed snaked wasn't after him.
"Of course I am, Sire," Merlin said. "What would you have me do that would send me to the executioner?"
Arthur's mouth dropped open and Merlin grinned. "That's not funny."
Merlin glanced at the snake. "No, I don't think I'm laughing. I might be, but you know, my head and all that wine…"
"Merlin!" Arthur demanded.
Merlin shook his head and flicked his wrist sharply. The snake's heads began twisting around each other and in several seconds it had managed to strangle itself.
Merlin nodded in satisfaction and then held out his wrists as though awaiting the guards. "Are you going to send me to the block now?" he asked.
Arthur flung his practise sword at Merlin, which caught on the breeze and nearly took out Arthur's eye. Merlin just stood there among the trees waiting as Arthur tramped around the asphyxiated snake’s heads.
"You are so infuriating," Arthur sputtered. "Put your hands down!"
Merlin lowered his hands. "I did magic. You know what I am; was it really so wrong of me to imagine something was going to happen to me in light of your behaviour?"
Arthur opened and closed his mouth once. Twice. "I was angry because you withheld the truth, not because you're a - you know."
Merlin scoffed. "And you expect to me believe that?"
"I was snogging you at the time - forgive me for being angry at finding out that you don't fancy me by you almost letting a tree kill me."
Merlin blinked. "You are a complete idiot. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"I am not."
"You most certainly are," Merlin insisted. "The tree almost killed us both, in case you hadn't noticed."
It was Arthur's turn to blink owlishly. "Ah."
"Yes, 'ah'," Merlin said. "I thought you were tormenting me because of my - my magic. Turns out you were tormenting me because you're a twisted bastard, who doesn't know when I'm snogging you back."
Arthur scoffed. "I've known about your magic, as you call it, since you sent that glowing ball of whatever to save me in the caves."
Merlin didn’t have to pretend to be confused. "Glowing ball of whatever? What's that then?"
"It'll tell you later."
"You do that - and speaking of you being twisted, is that what the dress was about?"
"No, that was just for a laugh."
The wind picked up around them. Arthur looked around in confusion. "Is that - is that -- there wasn't a breeze a moment ago."
"And that's why the tree almost killed us," Merlin said with finality.
"That makes no sense."
"Control issues."
"You mean your lack thereof," Arthur corrected.
"So, just like you then," Merlin said with a smile.
Arthur's mouth thinned into a line and Merlin decided that that was an excellent time to kiss him. Arthur's mouth was dry, his lips cracked, but he made the most delightfully undignified noises when Merlin kissed him. When Merlin pulled back, Arthur looked upwards as though searching the sky for something.
"What're you looking for?" Merlin asked.
"I'm waiting for a tree to drop on my head."
Merlin laughed. "I think you'll need less clothing for that trick."
Arthur smirked. "I'll hold you to that, you know."
"Promises, promises," Merlin sighed.
Epilogue
"Would it help if I blindfolded you?" Arthur suggested.
Merlin glared up at Arthur. Or he attempted to, it was rather hard to glare with Arthur shirtless and leaning over him. Plus, Arthur's hair was mussed and his mouth was very red and puffy. Merlin had been kissing it quite a bit. This did not lend itself to great pronouncements of intelligence.
"I know you have certain tastes, Arthur, but let's deal with the basics first, shall we?"
Arthur's lower lip stuck out; Merlin tried to lean in and bite it, but Arthur was just a sliver too far away. It was very distressing.
"The basics won't matter if you set the entire castle on fire," Arthur said.
Merlin scowled. "I set the curtains on fire that one time. One time. They were too close to the candles!"
"Yes, and you still had your clothes on that one time. I'm just not sure it's worth the risk of me taking off all my clothes as well," Merlin opened his mouth, but Arthur carried on. "Someone is going to have to be dressed and presentable when the ramparts go up in flames. We all know it won't be you."
Merlin snapped his fingers and all the candles went out. It took his eyes a moment to adjust in the darkness. "Happy now?" he snipped, even while wriggling under Arthur.
Arthur made a noncommittal noise and shifted his weight over Merlin, who arched upwards as Arthur slid down his body, the fabric of Arthur's breeches rubbing against Merlin's cock.
"I'm very happy now," Arthur confessed against the shell of Merlin's ear.
The fabric of Arthur's breeches was rough, but Merlin didn't give a flying toss after Arthur wedged a thigh between Merlin's legs. A very high-pitched noise escaped from Merlin's lips when Arthur nipped his collar bone and then laved away the sting with his tongue.
Merlin's hands grappled at Arthur's breeches, fiddling with the laces just enough so he could slide his hands down the back. Arthur grunted as Merlin gripped his backside and urged him down and up and down again, however, Merlin completely lost his place when Arthur reached down and wrapped his hand around Merlin's erection.
Merlin thrust eagerly into Arthur's hand as Arthur's thumb teased the head of his cock. He grabbed fistfuls of Arthur's hair and kissed him messily, sucking Arthur's tongue into his mouth.
Arthur groaned his approval, his hand quickening on Merlin. Merlin had to pull away to breathe, to think, to not bite Arthur and possibly end this new round of evening activities.
Merlin's eyes closed tightly as Arthur whispered in his ear, promising that this was just the beginning. That this was fated.
Merlin came hard enough that he saw sparks and flares of light. His entire spine went taunt and then boneless. It took him a minute to register Arthur's disapproving noises.
And then he opened his eyes.
Apparently, he hadn't imagined the lights. "Ah, sorry," he said.
Arthur just rolled his eyes at the candles and the fire now blazing in the hearth. "Oh, Merlin, really," he said with an amused laugh.
-end-
Again this is dedicated to everyone who insisted that I really really had to watch Merlin, but it would never have been possible without the cheerleading, poking and beta work of sparky77 and lazlet. Thank you, ladies, you make it all work.