Heartgrove Part 2 - ii
Part III
It wasn't that Merlin was avoiding Arthur, specifically, after the Kitchen Incident, as he liked to refer to it. Because, actually, what on Earth was he talking about, Merlin was absolutely denying the existence of said Kitchen Incident. In fact, in his absolute refusal to acknowledge anything, he was debating denying the existence of kitchens at all. But that might have been a bit silly, since he'd eaten his breakfast in one about twenty minutes ago.
Over the week since the Incident may or may not have occurred, Merlin had sort of maybe come to the realisation that he might be sort of maybe a little bit... not as straight as he'd previously assumed.
That was not to say he was gay, of course. That was a big word - well, not really, but it seemed to take up a lot more space in his head than three short letters should have warranted. But, well. There was really no denying that in the kitchen that evening, as Prince Arthur had eaten brownie mix off a spoon, Merlin had felt a sudden and absolutely undeniable desperation to kiss him.
He'd spent the weekend telling himself that oh dear God no, it was a momentary impulse brought on by the fact that it had been a ridiculous hour of the morning. He'd about come to terms with that idea until Monday rolled around and all his illusions were gone in an instant, when Arthur bounced out of his limo and Merlin was struck by the absolute imperative to reach out and touch.
And that was when he realised that he was completely and utterly fucked.
Unfortunately, not in the good way. How Merlin got through the next few minutes before the bell rang, he would never be able to say, but he somehow managed to vaguely make small talk with the others before fleeing into class. He got more maths questions wrong that day than in the rest of the year put together.
Needless to say, Merlin found a lot of lunch meetings and last minute assignments had suddenly sprung up in the past week - he even had to miss the weekly tennis match, which he hadn't done even once since he'd started playing, not even that one time he'd had a fever; Arthur had pouted, so of course, he'd battled through it and collapsed after.
...actually, that made a lot more sense now. Oh dear. Apparently this had been going on for quite a while; he just hadn't noticed.
But if Merlin Emrys was anything, he was a practical person. So he had, after a week of confusion, come to a very simple conclusion: it didn't matter.
Apparently, Merlin was attracted to the Prince of Albion. That was okay. But absolutely not worth considering further, because there was absolutely no way that the affections could ever be reciprocated. Arthur was Arthur: clever, handsome, noble, royal - even if he was a bit of a prat. (Not that Merlin would ever use any of those adjectives to his face.) Merlin, on the other hand, was, well, Merlin.
So, Merlin had decided that instead of avoiding Arthur (not that he had been, really), he was just going to pretend that nothing had happened and that he'd never noticed how utterly kissable his best friend in Albion happened to be. After all, Arthur was straight.
Merlin had deliberately avoided googling “Prince Arthur Pendragon” to drool over pictures of him because that was just weird, and he might have been a hormonal fifteen-year-old, but he wasn't a hormonal fifteen-year-old girl. More precisely, he decided that if it didn’t show up in his search history, it hadn’t happened.
And now he was standing in the cold of the car park, waiting for the bus to Heartgrove for the school trip which Dr. K had been obsessed with for weeks. His efforts to convert Merlin seemed to have become even more frequent than usual as the trip got closer, which was rather disconcerting.
Speak of the devil - the man himself approached Merlin. He patted him on the head, absently, muttered, “Follow your Heart, Young Warlock, and do not be Afraid of Destiny” and wandered off again.
Merlin shook his head, and went back to considering Arthur. He was all set to start his new plan of denial-but-back-to-normal, when the prince himself swung out of his usual limo, looking rather angry, definitely angrier than Merlin had seen him for a while. Without so much as a by-your-leave, the prince grabbed Merlin's arm and manhandled him onto the bus, pushing him onto a seat in the far back corner and then dropping down beside him, boxing him in. Their other friends sat around them, chattering amongst themselves.
“We are going to talk,” said Arthur in an ominous undertone to Merlin.
“Okay?” said Merlin, rather nonplussed. “What do you want to talk about?”
Arthur seemed to glower even more. “Not now. When we get there.”
Having thoroughly confused his friend, the prince proceeded to pull out his iPod headphones and ignore Merlin for the rest of the journey. Merlin spent the hour-long bus ride staring out the window, wondering what on Earth was going on now, and desperately trying not to think about the warm body beside him.
*-*-*
Heartgrove, it had to be said, did, to Merlin, look a lot like a big clearing with a tree in the middle. Admittedly, big might have been an understatement; there was enough space for at least two hundred people to stand comfortably around the huge tree in the middle, which had a trunk which looked to be at least five metres in diameter.
The centre of the tree was cut out to form an altar, which Dr. K had enjoyed spending an hour explaining was still used for the biannual rituals at Beltane and Midsummer. Morgana, her Morteus flower balanced prettily behind one ear, had explained to Merlin that she and Arthur had been forced to attend those particular rituals all their lives, despite their otherwise fairly lacklustre adherence to their state religion.
Normally, Arthur would have been the one to explain that, but he was too busy glaring at the back of Merlin's head, for some unfathomable reason.
Merlin twisted his own Morteus flower between his fingers, stopping as soon as he noticed that it was looking a little droopy. Destroying a Morteus was probably some kind of high treason or something, and Arthur was already cross enough. The Morteus flower, Albion's national symbol, was only grown in the area around Heartgrove, and various very stringent laws prevented it being taken outside that area without the King's personal permission. Each blossom was worth thousands of Albish pounds on the black market, but the security guards watched everyone like hawks on the way in and out of Heartgrove, so although every schoolchild, as was traditional, carried one, none of them ever managed to get one back out past the Knights.
Of course, Morgana was all in favour of changing the law to allow the Morteus to be commercially cultivated and sold, muttering something about “cultural exports” and “tax revenue”. (Merlin had absolutely zero interest in economics, so just nodded wisely.) But Uther was as traditional and stringently anti-change on this as everything else. His daughter had been known to declare - to journalists, no less! - that it was a good thing that Albion had a long history of strong Queens and heroines, from Queen Guinevere to the original Morgan le Fay to the female army chief Isolde the Impaler, otherwise there'd probably still be legislation against women working. As it was, however, four out of the eleven King's Council members were female, and Albish companies had some of the best records in the world on equality and inclusion. Arthur just rolled his eyes, and pointed out that their mother had been a working doctor as well as Queen, so Uther clearly had no problem with strong women. Morgana would whack him on the shoulder, and declare that that 'wasn't the point!'.
Merlin was considering his flower absently, and wondering why it was that every single thought he had these days seemed to lead back to Arthur, when he suddenly found himself spun around, back against a tree, with the Crown Prince of Albion leaning down over him. Panicking, Merlin flailed wildly, realising that this wasn't just any tree, this was the Hearttree, the most sacred bloody spot in the entire country, and they were only hidden from the view of their teachers and the rest of the class because Dr. K was very caught up in his discourse on the history of the Old Ways and -
Oh. The crown prince appeared to be kissing him.
Arthur drew back, panting slightly, face very flushed. “Okay, this is what is happening. You and I are going to go out to dinner or a film or whatever people do on dates, and we will then kiss, a lot, and you will be my boyfriend. I would say that I'm sorry about randomly kissing you just now, but I'm not, and really, I've been dropping hints for about six months, so if you haven't noticed by now, you really are an idiot, but I know you're not because you're kind of awesome and I sort of love you, hence the fact that you're going to be my boyfriend except maybe it would have been better if I hadn't told you that right now, okay?”
“Guh,” said Merlin.
Arthur looked suddenly shamefaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you or anything, and obviously I’m not trying to force you to go out with me, but you haven’t said two words to me all week and it’s horribly frustrating not having you around, you even missed the tennis match…” He trailed off, turning a bright shade of red, and started to back away.
Merlin, having mostly recovered his wits, noticed that the prince was moving in what he considered to be the wrong direction and did the only thing that seemed to be possible at the time. He leaned forward, and kissed Arthur again.
Neither of them noticed that the class had finished the lecture and walked around the tree until they were the centre of a round of rather shocked applause and a few “finally”s from Morgana. Even Dr. K was muttering something about Destiny, sounding almost Approving.
Merlin didn't bother about all that though, because Arthur held his hand all the way home.
*-*-*
“I have magic.” Merlin felt so nervous he was on the verge of collapse. But Uther was dead, Arthur was crowned, and he had to say something. He had to say it now, because the King had just kissed him, and it all sort of blurted out then because having King Arthur of Camelot kiss you without warning was enough to fry anyone's brain.
“Yes,” said Arthur, looking at him steadily. “I know.”
“Oh.”
“Really, Merlin, I'm not actually an idiot,” he said. “Do you think I really am blind? I've suspected since Ealdor, and known for certain for quite a while now. Were you trying to be subtle?”
“Yes?”
“Good thing that you had me around to be keeping an eye on you, then. Now, may we please get back to the kissing?”
Later, when Merlin had drawn patterns on Arthur's skin while whispering about Destiny, the king looked down at his sorcerer with a vaguely awed expression. “We're going to build the greatest kingdom ever seen, aren't we?”
Merlin's eyes flashed gold. “Oh yes, Sire.”
*-*-*
Somewhat surprisingly, at least to Merlin, dating the Prince of Albion wasn't really very much different to being one of his best friends. They still argued about everything from the existence of magic (but just for fun, they'd now swapped sides so that Merlin was arguing for and Arthur against) to which Doctor Who actor was the best (Arthur had a thing for Matt Smith, while Merlin was a traditionalist and felt that clearly, David Tennant had the edge in terms of both looks and cool) to whether or not facial hair was attracted (Merlin told the prince in no uncertain terms that if he were going to grow that goatee thing he'd been thinking about, he was resoundingly dumped. Arthur pouted for several days, and Merlin had to resort to kissing to show that he'd been joking).
They still sat together in every lesson where it was possible, snarking at one another and fighting to outdo each other in everything, just for the hell of it. They still played tennis on Saturday afternoons. The only difference now was that whenever (rarely) Merlin managed to actually score a point, Arthur would celebrate by snogging him soundly, rather than merely looking pleased and clapping him on the back. This led to various tennis balls being lobbed at them by Leon when they got too caught up in said snogging to return to the game. Even Lance, who had taken over from Gwaine as his doubles partner, looked a little put out the fifth time this happened in one match. Merlin simply couldn't explain his sudden improvement in tennis ability, except that snogging Arthur was one hell of an incentive.
Eventually, since Leon declared that he'd “like to play a proper game of tennis at least once a month, please, one without the random snogging every ten seconds,” Merlin retired from the games without much regret and sat drinking iced tea in a corner with Gwen, who had come to support Lance. Instead, Morgana took his place on Arthur's team, and they won every match by a huge margin, except where they stopped to argue in the middle of a game and got distracted, almost handing away the points to Lance and Leon. Either way made extremely entertaining viewing.
After the tennis games, the six of them would usually walk into Albion city centre and have dinner in town together. Merlin still thought it rather extravagant, having a restaurant meal once a week, but it wasn't as though anyone in the group was really worried about the cost. Besides, with Arthur and Morgana in tow, they usually got served for free. Merlin had even just about gotten used to being followed around by Knights in black all the time.
At least there was a complete moratorium on press articles about Arthur and Morgana before their eighteenth birthday. It had been negotiated when the whole nation was still in mourning for Queen Ygraine, so was fairly lenient towards her children. This meant that Arthur and Merlin could wander down the street hand in hand without being too worried about paparazzi, though they did attract a few stares. Arthur brushed it off with a smile, used to the attention, but Merlin couldn't help but gawk back a little.
He was in even more shock the first time that he was asked to sign an autograph. It was a small blonde girl, who looked about five years old and was dressed as a fairy. She marched up to Arthur, harassed looking mother in tow, as they headed towards the hamburger restaurant which had been Leon's choice that week. She then declared loudly that her her name was “Violette, with two Ts and an E at the end, and would you please sign my book Mr. Prince Your Highness Sir.”
Merlin hid a smirk at this unusual form of address, but if Arthur was equally amused he gave no sign. Instead, he smiled his official 'I'm a prince' smile and bent down to sign the bright pink and sparkly notebook which he was offered.
“Who's that?” she asked, pointing to Merlin as the prince stepped back and took his boyfriend's hand, and then simply neglected to let go.
“This is my boyfriend, Merlin,” said Arthur with a rather more natural grin.
“Can he sign my book, too? Merlin's my favourite wizard ever. I have magic too!” Violette waved the wand with a star on the end which appeared to match her lurid pink fairy dress and tiara. The overall effect, when added to the sparkly notebook, was to make her seem like one large pink sequin. Merlin hid a grin. “I want the wizard Merlin to sign my notebook!”
Her mother, standing a slight way back, shook her head and moved as if to step forward and collect the child before they hit a full-blown tantrum, but Arthur's grin widened and he waved her away.
“Of course Merlin will sign your book,” the prince said. “He's very important to me, and a very powerful warlock.”
Merlin's heart swelled a little at the matching expressions of entreaty on the faces of Arthur and Violette as they looked up at him. What could he do then but bend down to sign the book?
“To Violette, with love from Merlin. Stay magical!”
Though that was the first time that Merlin signed an autograph, it was certainly not the last. Even when they weren't being stopped by people on the streets, Merlin could have sworn that the whispers were following them along as they walked.
“Just ignore it,” said Arthur in his ear. “You'll get used to it.”
He was right - now, a few months later, Merlin was no longer uncomfortable with the stares and the whispers. But he was pretty sure that he and Arthur were Albion's worst kept secret, and he couldn't help but wonder when it was all going to blow up in his face.
Today, the post-game restaurant of choice was a small sushi bar which had just opened in one of Albion's larger shopping centres. It had been Morgana's turn to decide, and she was always keen to try new cuisines, despite the fact that Arthur continued to maintain that he hated the taste of squid. Merlin suspected that today's decision was revenge for last week's takeaway curry, which Arthur had chosen. Morgana had a strange aversion to curry. But there was a tacit agreement that everyone shared the meal, regardless of tastes, so she'd saved her revenge until today.
Arthur was walking on ahead with Leon, and Morgana had dropped back to talk to Merlin. Lance and Gwen were, as usual, in their own little world, arms around each other as they wandered down Albion main street.
“You're good together, you two,” said Morgana after a short silence, smiling lightly and nudging Merlin in the arm. She seemed happier today than he'd seen her for a while.
Merlin ran his hand through his hair. “Thanks.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't being facetious. I'm glad that you're such a sweet couple. Of course, we could all tell that you two were destined from the first time you met, but still. It's nice.”
Merlin bit his lip, not really sure where she was going with this. “Um, okay?”
Morgana glanced forward to where Arthur was slapping Leon on the back, before fixing Merlin with a stare that could have frozen fire. “Now that you've made it for a few months and it seems to be a lasting thing, and with summer coming up soon, I just felt I should warn you, Merlin. Friend or not, if you break my brother's heart I will destroy you. Are we clear?”
Merlin gulped. “Yes. Right. Crystal. No heart-breaking. Got it.”
The princess smiled sweetly, far too sweetly for Merlin's comfort. “Just so we're clear on that.”
He was very thankful when Arthur stepped away from Leon and draped an arm around each of their shoulders. “I think,” said the prince, “that we should have a party. To celebrate the end of the year.”
Morgana's mouth twitched a little, as though she were trying not to laugh. “Would this happen to involve lots of drinking and possibly the Residence pool?”
Merlin's heart leapt a little at Arthur's mischievous grin. “You know, maybe there is something to that myth about twins being able to read each others' minds.”
*-*-*
Fortunately for the crown prince, since the legal drinking age for wine and beer drinking in Albion was fourteen, and he would be hitting his sixteenth birthday that summer, King Uther actually allowed the party to happen.
Of course, the guest list was carefully vetted (although eventually the king gave in and their entire year group was invited), all bags were searched at the door and electronic devices confiscated, and the atmosphere of summer pool party was somewhat dampened by the fact that there were burly Knights in black standing around everywhere. King Uther himself had escaped to one of his country houses for the duration, probably to avoid the shouts of fifty-odd year tens in swimming costumes running all over his grounds.
None of the precautionary measures had stopped the teenagers in the room from getting pleasantly tipsy on the rather high quality wine and beer which had been provided for them by the palace cooks, along with an enormous selection of party food.
Everyone was splashing around in the pool, sunbathing on loungers, or playing tennis on one of the courts. Despite Merlin's initial expectations, Arthur was not among this last group. Instead, he was sipping a beer at the side of the pool and chatting to Sophia, a girl from Morgana's class who was wearing the skimpiest bikini Merlin had ever seen.
He tried very hard to concentrate on his conversation with Gwen, who was talking about the latest film she'd seen in the cinema with Lance. Arthur and Merlin had seen it too, on one of their dates, but although Merlin had absolutely loved it he couldn't quite keep his attention on rhapsodising about it when Sophia was reaching out to touch Arthur on the arm and stepping closer and the prince wasn't stopping her.
“'Scuse me,” he said to Gwen. Noting the direction of his gaze, she grimaced slightly and waved him off, turning to chat to Freya who was sunbathing nearby.
Merlin took another swig of his beer. It wasn't that he didn't trust Arthur, he rationalised, slightly tipsily. But something about Sophia, he'd always disliked. That was all. Really.
He wandered over to where they were standing, looping an arm around Arthur's waist. “Hey,” he said.
Arthur looked down at him with a smile. “Hey.”
Merlin was somewhat gratified to note that Sophia was now glaring daggers at him, an expression which melted away extraordinarily rapidly as soon as the prince's attention returned to her.
“Soph was just telling me about her dad's place in Toulouse,” said Arthur. “It sounds very nice.”
“I'm sure it does,” said Merlin, making sure to put on the sweetest tone he could manage. No one could say that he hadn't been learning from Morgana.
Sophia's eyes flicked between them, then she stepped back a little. “I think I'll head to grab myself another drink, now. See you later, Arthur.”
The prince seemed entirely oblivious, waving happily as she shot one last dirty look at Merlin before turning on one sky-high heel. Who wears heels to a pool party anyway? Merlin couldn't help thinking, somewhat uncharitably since a fairly large proportion of their class was doing so.
“She was flirting with you,” he couldn't help blurting out, as Arthur turned back to face him.
His boyfriend seemed genuinely surprised. “What - Soph - really? No, surely not.”
“She's still shooting me dirty looks,” said Merlin, looking over Arthur's shoulder.
The prince glanced backward, and this time Sophia wasn't quite fast enough to hide her glare. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” said Arthur, smile turning slightly more predatory. “Shall we show her just how taken I am, then?”
Merlin rubbed his hand along the shell of his ear nervously. “In front of everyone, here? I mean, I think most people know after Heartgrove, but we've never really - it's our classmates -”
Arthur cocked an eyebrow, challenging as ever. “I'm not ashamed. Are you?”
“Of course not.”
And with that, Arthur was kissing him soundly, arms tight around his boyfriend, holding him close. Merlin tangled one hand in the prince's hair, thinking that there was absolutely nowhere else that he'd rather be for the rest of his life.
Arthur pulled back slightly, ignoring the whoops and cheers from their tipsy classmates. “I think that's enough of a show for one day, don't you? How would you feel about heading inside for a bit? I've got a rather fantastic bed upstairs, you know.”
Merlin grinned. Yes, he absolutely did know, and had very fond memories of said bed. And maybe there was one place in the world he'd rather be right now than down by the pool.
“Lead on, Your Highness,” he said.