Author's Note:

So short, I know! I'm sorry. First time writing Merthur and my ideas were kind of all over the place, especially with the overload of Christmas videos I've been making. Anyways, Merry Christmas Kim! It's so awesome you're watching Merlin now, I think you'll love it, it is such an amazing show! Psst…there is a badass female character named Morgana. She is impossible not to love or at least she was for me. So yeah, here is your first Merlin/Arthur fic as well as the first Merlin story I've written! Hope it's not too awful. Have a very Merry Christmas, my minion!

P.S. This is set somewhere between seasons one and two. No spoilers here :D

As far as days in Camelot went, this one was fairly dull. It was mid afternoon and the stables were mucked, breakfast and lunch had been served, the chambers were immaculate, and the castle had been saved from a magic related evil by the poor damn warlock that never got any credit for it. All in a day's work for Merlin. He had also gotten to watch Gwen flirting with Arthur, giggling shamelessly and making Merlin want to throw up. It felt so wrong even seeing them in the same room together. Merlin had never been the violent type, but it had taken every inch of restraint in his body not to use his powers to tip a bucket of fish innards over on her head when they ran into each other in the kitchen that morning. Everyone, however, was oblivious to why he was so angry at every woman that even looked at Arthur the wrong way.

Everyone but the most perceptive person in Camelot.

When Merlin passed her in the hall, Morgana would occasionally drop comments like "Give Arthur my best if you can keep your legs together long enough" or "I wouldn't greet a lady by kissing her hand if I were you, Merlin. She probably has no idea where your mouth has been and I sincerely doubt she would want to." He had at first been shocked by her crude comments, seeming so out of place on the elegant and beautiful ward of King Uther, but eventually he got used to it and just rolled his eyes at the remarks. Once he had confronted her and asked if she ever planned to tell anyone but she had merely laughed.

"Tell whom? As if Uther would believe Arthur to consort with a servant. He would probably laugh at such a lovely joke and ask me to pass the cider. Really, Merlin, be serious." She had then walked off, purple and blue skirt swaying around her legs, black curls bouncing against her back.

That had been two weeks ago. He was starting to relax. Gwen was still an object of strong dislike and if he wanted to admit it, jealousy, but he could keep it at bay. Arthur would notice it, chuckle, and on rare occasion even reassure Merlin he had nothing to worry about. But that was as frequent as Uther acting as if he had a heart. Arthur didn't like putting labels on his and Merlin's relationship other than servant and master. He liked even less any emotional conversations and usually avoided them by telling Merlin he was acting like a girl. When he said this Merlin would either shut his mouth or use it as a means to occupy Arthur's attention.

But tonight was different. Everyone had thought it was Arthur who saved the day, and watching him bask in the glory with a wide smile and look of adoration for his people, Merlin hadn't felt jealous. He'd felt unworthy. Arthur was the once and future king. A man of insurmountable bravery, loyalty, and strength. He was destined to rule and forever change the entirety of a kingdom. But what was Merlin? A servant? A warlock? He wasn't much, that was for sure. And he certainly didn't deserve a man like Arthur. Almost no one knew (almost meaning Morgana and, awkwardly enough, Gaius) just how many ways Merlin serviced his prince, but it went so much further than that. He loved Arthur. And no matter how little Merlin deserved it, Arthur loved him too.

This was one of those rare nights when Arthur didn't play games and asked Merlin what was wrong. Staring out the window of his master and lover's chambers, Merlin mumbled, "Nothing."

"Don't lie to me." It wasn't the order of royalty. It was the gentle intoning of a lover.

"It's just...it's nothing, really."

Arthur walked over and stood next to him, and Merlin couldn't help looking over into the prince's ocean blue eyes. "Just tell me what's on your mind, Merlin. I don't bite." He paused, then added, "Unless I'm tipsy. But let's leave that one between you and I."

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"You could have any woman in Camelot. Or man if you wished. Why me? I'm a servant, a nobody."

"You are not a nobody."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur pulled Merlin against him and kissed him. The warlock lifted his hands to run through Arthur's soft blond hair, feeling small and secure against the prince's muscular body. He stood in Arthur's embrace for what felt like ages but could have been only minutes until they pulled away far enough to look into the other's eyes. Arthur studied him with a scrutiny he had come to know as a second nature to the prince. Always trying to analyze, strategize, work out his next move. Merlin chuckled softly. Arthur was staring at him like an opposing army he had no idea how to tackle.

"Do you think it'll ever happen?" Merlin asked quietly.

"One day…maybe." Arthur didn't try to offer false hope.

Merlin walked over to the drawers beside the prince's bed. He opened the second one and reached to the very back. Soon, his fingers enclosed around a small circle of metal. He withdrew it and slipped it onto his finger. Arthur walked up behind him and stared down at it. Almost out of instinct, Merlin leaned back against him. It was rare he chanced such affectionate displays and was relieved when he felt his sire's arms circle his waist. Together they stared at the ring on Merlin's finger. It was meaningless in the sense of them ever be able to act on what such a ring might imply to a woman, but to Merlin it meant the world. It was the strongest sign of commitment Arthur could possibly show him.

Arthur fiddled with the cloth wound around Merlin's neck. He pulled it off and tossed it onto the end of the bed so he could access his servant's neck. Merlin tilted his head to the side with a soft sound of pleasure as Arthur's mouth started trailing kisses down his neck. It was so sensitive. Hid behind fabric, it was never touched. And it was very easily bruised. Arthur often, like he was doing now, kissed it with such force he left a mark just above Merlin's collarbone. It was intentional and Merlin certainly didn't mind. No one ever saw the purplish bruises he loved so much. He smiled and reached back, tangling his hand in Arthur's hair.

Suddenly an image came to Merlin's mind. "Imagine Uther's face if we got married." Arthur grinned against the back of Merlin's neck, and the servant smiled just as widely at the mental image.

They went to bed and made love long into the night, Merlin not taking the ring off the entire time. He only removed it when Arthur fell asleep and Merlin had to return to his own quarters. Too many questions would arise if he wore the ring in public. Where did he get it? How does a servant afford such fine craftsmen ship? Was the prince's servant engaged to someone? Hiding that he was a warlock was hard enough, he didn't feel like fabricating a reason he wore a very ornate ring as well. So he only wore it in Arthur's company and never, ever stopped hoping. Never gave up on the once and future king.

Because perhaps one day, he would bear the name Merlin Pendragon.