"You're rather impertinent, aren't you," The knight hisses in his ear, and Merlin shudders, wincing as he's yanked close, his arms locked behind him in a way that is really quite painful. "Do you not know who I am, do you not know what awaits you should you defy me?"
Merlin has always had a terrible sense of timing, and in this case, his mouth is already open and running with what he probably shouldn't be saying before he can rein the insults in. "I don't know who you are," he begins, turning to look at the blond git dead in the eye, notes with some pleasure at the surprise that flickers in the depth of that blue gaze before he continues with his verbal assault. "You're certainly not the king, and even if you were, though I highly doubt it... I don't know, your Majesty, sire, whatever title you'd like me to address you — you're still a prat and a great bully for doing this to subjects not your own size."
The knight loosens his grip for a moment, and Merlin doesn't look away from his face. There's something like wonder in the man's eyes, something like admiration.
Merlin raises an internal eyebrow, thinks that perhaps no one's ever stood up to this person the way he did, perhaps he really was someone others obeyed without question, perhaps he was—
"My name is Arthur." The blond grits out, eyes flashing dangerously as he leans close to Merlin, his breath tickling Merlin's ear.
—oh, blast. Oh, he is so doomed.
Arthur twists his arm further, and Merlin can't help it; he utters a little agonised cry and Arthur quirks his lips up in delight. "I could punish you right here," Arthur breathes, his voice low, face flushing. "In front of all this people. Right here, while they watched. Have you flogged, have you beaten, force you to walk on your knees before me—"
Well. Merlin shouldn't be finding that ridiculously hot.
"Anything I wanted. Walking into my territory like you're the prince of Camelot instead, boy, I'll show you your place."
Those words set something in him ablaze, the challenge and taunt flooding his veins like golden fire. Merlin bristles, and he knows there still isn't any fear in his own eyes because he can see the prince looking for it, curiously seeking it, but he is just as surprised as Arthur when he doesn't back down, and pulls away in a huff from Arthur who's loosened his hold again, who's looking at Merlin like he's fascinated and would like nothing more than to pin him against a wall and discover all his secrets, coax his magic out of him with a hard, punishing kiss and a rough fuck—
—and down that road lies madness, so Merlin shoves those thoughts away and holds his head high as he regards Arthur in the snottiest manner he can muster even if he's thrilled by this, excited to rile the prince up. "You're welcome to try, my lord."
Merlin does end up in the dungeons, but he thinks the gobsmacked expression he'd seen on Arthur's face before Merlin had been locked up was entirely worth it.
Fin