Hi guys! It's me again. So Sorry it took this long to give you something you might look forward to. Right after I publish this, I'll start working on one of my stories that I left discarded for while. But it's up to you, which one should I start on first? Sorry for the dialogue, I wanted to make everything as straightforward as possible.
This is just the prologue, if you want to know more, its on my biography. The reason I'm starting out like this, is because I'm adding a few very important details that will make much more sense later on. So, you might not want to miss out. Thanks for giving this a chance, It just might have some potential. Reviews means faster updates! after all, I need a good push every once in a while. I just promise that it won't take me this long to get up next time.
Disclaimer: Not sure why this is necessary, it is called 'Fanfiction' for a reason! but no, Merlin doesn't belong to me anymore than it belongs to my younger sister. (Who gets everything she wants so it's surprising.)
When I first met Merlin, I knew he was different. Sure, his skinny frame and constant, overwhelming clumsiness would make anyone stand out. Or perhaps his smart mouth and ridiculously large ears would make him noticeable in a group of hundreds of my people. That may be a bit of an over-exaggeration, but it doesn't matter. Any of it. At least, not anymore.
At first, I thought he was just stupid, standing up to me on that first day. Back then, I was foolish. I was unjust. And I must admit that it was unfair how I used my manservant as target practice that morning. He had a shield, of course. A big, bulky shield that he hid behind while running about the training grounds. But that isn't the point. The point is, Merlin intervened. He spoke out. And for a fleeting second, I was sure I had seen him somewhere before. He stood up to me. Taunted me. Even without knowing that I was a prince, at the time, he should have known he didn't stand a chance in a fight. I always thought it was odd how Merlin was able to stand, unflinching, in the face of very powerful people. People who, if given the chance, would have him executed for such behavior. Luckily, it was me Merlin ran into, and not my father. Though I tolerate executions done by his hand, I do not enjoy them. Not that my father enjoys executions, either. He only does what must be done. And that includes getting rid of even the smallest threat to his-self and his kingdom. Attacking and insulting me was another story altogether, though. So I sent him off into the dungeons. I didn't know what a prat was then. I still don't, actually. But that doesn't mean I didn't find it insulting.
The next time we met, I thought he would have had more intellect. I assumed spending a night in the dungeons, as well as a day in the stocks, would have had to teach him a lesson. I was wrong, of course. I usually am when it comes to Merlin. All of that conflict for a mere serving boy only irritated him more. And what was once only taunts and insults being thrown in each other's path, soon turned into a very intriguing mace fight. Actually, it wasn't really a fight. Merlin was dodging too much and fighting far too less. To an onlooker's eye, it would look like I had attacked him at random. A mere peasant boy on a market visit. For his family, perhaps. Only, Merlin was not a mere peasant boy doing a good deed. He was much more than that. If only it didn't take me this long to realize that.
After Merlin lost his focus and instead looked far more interested in the wall behind me, I took my chance. The fight was over, and I the victor of our little match. But, instead of sending him back to the dungeons, which was sure to be a repeat of the day previous, I let him be. I decided that he was, in fact, an idiot. A brave idiot, at that, but an idiot, nonetheless. I wanted to do more, mock him, push him, yell at him for being so.. different and outspoken from everyone else. I did none of these things, however. He walked away with only a fleeting glance at the wall that had previously captured his full attention. I turned, curious, but nothing was there. Not one person or insect, or anything remotely worthy of such attention. I found that odd, but shrugged it off and walked back to the castle. And like many other seemingly unimportant things I come across, I forgot. And Merlin was no longer a concern of mine. What I didn't forget, though, was that twinge of familiarity when he told me his name. Nor did I forget the split second darkening of his eyes when he looked back at me. Or the smooth, easy way the insults flew between us.
But, of course, it didn't end there. No. Merlin wasn't like that. He was a man of many words. He took every chance he could to worm his way into my life. And, in fact, he had many chances. Being the ward of the court physician didn't help in the slightest. And because of this factor, he attended the feast that was held, in the honor, of celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the Great Purge of magic from the lands of Camelot. His supposed bravery or stupidity of sorts got in the way a huge deal as well. I had thought that from the first day when he called me a prat that the deal was sealed, and we were forever bound to hate each other. Which is why I was more than surprised when he pulled me out of the way of the dagger that was meant for my throat.
I wasn't complaining, not in the slightest. But, I wasn't thanking him, either. I turned around, dumbstruck, wanting to ask him why he did what he did. Even now, I am still curious as to why he braved such an act. After all, who in their right mind would save their enemy? At least, that's how I thought he viewed me as, and I him. I suppose that this is just the first of the many times, I was wrong. Merlin winced as he eyed the golden embroiled dagger embedded at the head of my chair. It seemed the entire room forgot how to speak, and all was silent. Such an act cannot be left unrewarded, as my father says. And in the blink of an eye, Merlin was thrust into the position of my new manservant. I gaped once more, still not able to find the right words to say. Apparently, words were not needed, for neither of us spoke to each other, just stared at one another in shock.
By nightfall, the shock had worn off, and in its place stood curiosity and irritation. A burning, boiling, bothersome sort of irritation that rooted itself deep into my bones. I knew that I should be thankful to the boy, for doing what he did. But part of me knew, without a sense of doubt that maybe, just maybe, this is what he had planned all along. Merlin had already shown that he was very comfortable with embarrassing me in public. He had little to no respect for those above him. I was not, however, irritated for long. A smug sense of satisfaction ran through me as I realized, that, even if this was all just a game to the man, he wouldn't be here for long. I never kept my man-servants for very long, anyways. It would be rude to sack him right off, though. So, I let him remain in the position for a little while.
He was horrible. Absolutely, undeniably, horrible. He really was the worst servant he had ever come across. Apparently, his clumsiness in the market was not a one time thing. He really was clumsy, all of the time. unbelievably so. Though it is amusing to watch him struggle carrying my recently cleaned armor, and then proceed to drop it down the castle stairs.. into a big pile of mud, my plan is getting slightly harder to see through. I would never admit it, but I was growing fond of him. Every single last one of my servants were definitely too respectful. If that was even possible. Bootlicker's, Merlin calls them. I don't disagree. With Merlin in my services, he makes my days more eventful. The stress of my workload lessens when he is around. I have learned a lot about him from the few weeks he has been around, but there is still something about him that I cannot seem to put my finger on. Sometimes I think he has a split personality. Most of the time he is that cheerful, clumsy, idiot of a servant that always finds a way to make you smile. Other times, when he assumes nobody is looking, I see the sadness in his eyes. I see the slump in his shoulders, the trembling of his hands. I never ask, because we're not really friends, but, I do wonder about him. I wonder about the secret he keeps so close to his heart, I wonder how bad it could be to affect him so. I wonder about the mystery that is and always will be, Merlin.