Peace. That is all he sought. Just a little tiny bit of peace. It should have been easy to find on the sun warmed stones of the toppled wall. It was all that the small creek bed with its soft breezes , and quiet trickling had promised. A search for peace was what had drawn him to this place.
Peace. It wasn't too much to ask. Unfortunately some cosmic power disagreed with him. God, fate, or some other higher power it seemed to be content to leave him with his inner turmoil. He hadn't felt at peace for some time now. He couldn't put a date or time to his discomfort… It had at first been so slight it hadn't occurred to him that there even WAS a problem, but the troubles had multiplied and deepened. And now not a shred of tranquility could he find for himself.
Though to be fair he was the one who had insisted on dragging his troubles along with him. His innumerable troubles. His troubles were in fact muttering at his horse during a miserable attempt to tie up the beast.
After a seemingly infinite amount of time had slid by the softly uttered curses had stopped issuing from the disturbingly soft looking heart shaped lips of his servant, and it seemed that the rope had finally bent to the will of those long, nimble looking digits… the ones that made him ache to see what they were truly capable of…
Finished what should have been a simple task his troubles stretched out, and resting against a tree sky blue eyes sliding shut to hide behind thick dark lashes, he shivered.
An air of mystery surrounded his servant tantalizing and teasing with hints, and whispers he had yet to piece together. He found himself unsure about anything to do with his servant; even the words he set out in an attempt to classify were unsatisfactory.
His gaze raked across his quandary catching a glimpse of exposed skin, courtesy of another stretch, so pale. Pale like porcelain or moonlight. Moonlight worked, it was in line with everything else. Moonlight worked with the only adjective yet to be discarded. Otherworldly.
Now that might stand. Otherworldly. In truth there WAS indeed something nearly fey about his deceptively simple servant. A lean, slender, ever so gracile form. High cheek bones, a puckish grin, the arched brow always lending a quizzical somewhat coy look. Ever so maddening. Perhaps someday he would be led off, love struck and half dazed, following along after the long bobbing stride… never to be seen again.
It was driving him straight out of his mind. His thoughts jumbled at the mere idea of a prince FOLLOWING a servant. How utterly impossible, but there was another word he stumbled on around his impish companion.
Impossible seemed to become a word defunct in the presence of the walking temptation now dozing silently against the tree, he suppressed a shudder. Everything that was once labeled impossible now wore the mantle of improbable, and the realm of improbability was precisely the world in which his servant seemed to deal. Maybe in this unlikely sphere that now seemed to encompass them it was not so odd that a peasant could lead a prince.
Harder even that was the feeling that the object of his desire was entirely beyond his grasp. Acknowledging his servant's charms had been it seemed a hopeless attempt to make his desires acceptable to himself, but the list built, and now even he trembled before the unattainable beauty that was his awkward fool of a servant.
It was enough to make a fellow scream, princely dignity be damned.
But to do that would cause the impertinent know it all to inquire, and pry. Eventually his utterly improper affections… desires… needs, and his servant would shy from him, perhaps even flee.
Better to suffer the madness than tempt his luck.
He stood tall, and straight, and strode over in a smooth gait to the prone figure of his friend, servant, companion. He knelt over, leaning in and drew a soft breath.
"Wake up, idiot! There's hunting to be done." He snapped. "Fetch my horse, and be quick about it. I haven't got all day."
Up like a start and howling like a wounded dog his servant was back at the reins of the horse struggling with the knots he had worked so hard to bugger up only an hour before.
Admiring the rear view Arthur sniggered, as he listened to the whining, and growling of his ever faithful friend. He leaned back against the once tall, proud wall and mused as to how long it would be before Merlin made HIM crumble.