There are some things that Arthur does that Merlin can ignore. Throwing books at his head; that's funny. Splashing water all over the floor when getting out of a bath; that's just fine, Merlin spills it whilst carrying the buckets up the stairs anyway. But this is just ridiculous! Making him go on a hunting trip for two weeks. Two weeks! What could there possibly be in the forest that takes two weeks to hunt? A tree is a tree. A deer is a deer. You can see all that, catch all that in a day. So why in the world was Arthur making Merlin pack for two weeks?
"Stupid pratty prince" grumbles Merlin, shoving a bed roll into a pack with more force that is strictly necessary.
It's not like Merlin can say no either. Even if he wasn't Arthur's manservant, he'd have to go just to keep the royal Clotpole out of trouble. And he doesn't even get a thank you. Hiding his magic at times like that is when it's hardest. Watching someone else get the credit, like Cedric that time, or having his very heroic (if he does say so himself) actions chalked up to sheer luck. For once, it would be nice to get a thank you. A little recognition. But then again, recognition is swiftly followed with a trip to the block and one less head.
"Merlin" says Arthur, stepping through the door to his chambers, his face scrunched up into a scowl. Damn the man, he still manages to look attractive like that! "What could possibly be taking so long?"
"Sorry, Sire" the title leave his mouth sounding sarcastic. It is.
Arthur just rolls his eyes at him. He prefers it when Merlin calls him by his actual name anyway. He's the only man who treats Arthur like a person instead of fussing over his being the Crown Prince of Camelot. It's strangely nice to know that Merlin isn't intimidated by him…although, that's not the way it should be. Merlin is his manservant; there should be some kind of fear there. If not fear, then at least respect. But Arthur gets the feeling that it isn't disrespect that rules Merlin, it's just the way the man is. And Arthur wouldn't change it even if he could. Shrugging off the inner monologue, Arthur goes back to glaring at his struggling manservant.
"Have you packed everything?" asks Arthur, remembering the time that they had set up camp (well, Merlin had actually set it up, but Arthur did a brilliant job of watching him) and found that there was no bed roll, no blankets, and three missing shirts. Merlin swore he'd packed them. Arthur didn't even pretend to believe him. And the Knights had just burst into laughter. The hunt had been called off early when it became a real possibility that the Prince was going to freeze to death. Damn Merlin. But the memory is a fond one nonetheless.
"Of course I have" scoffs Merlin, looking offended. Arthur just raises an eyebrow; his expression a lot like Gaius' and Merlin quickly does a double check of the packs. "Yes, everything's there"
"I'll believe it when I see it" says Arthur, turning on his heel and pounding down the stairs, eager to be out from behind the castle walls.
When Merlin reaches the group of Knights clustered together at the front of the castle, he can't help but smile. Percival, Gwaine, Leon and Lancelot are laughing at something, hitching their packs onto their horses, getting ready to leave. Maybe this could be fun after all, thinks Merlin, eyeing the ever present mischief in Gwaine's expression.
"Ah, Merlin" crows Gwaine happily, stretching an arm around Merlin's shoulders as he reaches them. "I guess the Princess didn't let you off of this one then"
"Wouldn't even hear my well made up reasons not to go" replies Merlin with a laugh.
"Since when has his ignoring you ever stopped you talking, eh?" Chuckles Lancelot, reaching to relieve Merlin of the pack in his arms.
"Give us one of your arguments then" says Gwaine with a smirk, "you must have hurt yourself thinking that much, the least we can do is listen to what you came up with."
Merlin's mouth opens to tell them, as earnestly as he can, that he shouldn't have to go on the hunting trip because his little toe had been nibbled off by a rat the last time he was in the dungeons. And that there was no possible way that he could hobble around the woods with only nine of his toes, when an annoyed Prince grabs the back of his neckerchief and hauls him over to Arthur's mare.
"Merlin, I do not bring you on these hunts so that I can watch you gossiping with my Knights" grumbles Arthur, glaring over at the smirking foursome in question. Leon and Lancelot turn around quickly, fiddling with saddle bags and reigns, studiously pretending to be ignoring the angry Prince. Percival starts to whistle a completely out of tune melody while lifting his head to the sky, acting as innocent as possible and failing completely. Gwaine just watches them shamelessly, an infuriatingly knowing smile playing across his face.
"I know that" replies Merlin, dragging Arthurs attention from the best Knights Camelot has to offer (himself excluded, obviously) bumbling like fools and back to his manservants' disgruntled face. "You only drag me along for someone to complain at."
"What other use could you possibly have?" Asks Arthur in a ridiculously self-important tone, raising his eyebrow again. Merlin can't help but think that maybe his prat of a Prince is channelling too much Gaius.
"You have no idea" mumbles Merlin under his breath, his words not quite reaching Arthurs ears.
"What?" Demands Arthur.
"Let's go hunt some deer!" Cheers Merlin, his voice laced with fake enthusiasm, grabbing his horses' mane and swinging his leg over to settle on her back.
"You hate hunting" comments Arthur, picking up on the false note easily.
After nearly two years with his hopeless manservants' incessant chattering, he's found he can pick up on these kinds of things. He can hear the smile in Merlin's words when can't actually see the man's face. He can catch the hint of tears even when he's trying so hard to hide it. He can even pick up on the hitch in Merlin's breathing when Arthur gets a tad too close. It's that last little noise that he likes the most. Enough that he makes an effort to hear it at least once a day.
Waving his hand as the Knights mount their steeds, he kicks his horse into a trot, taking his natural place as the lead of their convoy. Of course, Merlin comes to trot alongside him, displaying absolutely no respect for his proper place at the back of such a gathering where the servants are meant to stay. Arthur can't say he's particularly bothered.
"You're aware of this and yet you still make me come?"
"Of course"
"Prat"
"Idiot"
Merlin snorts, "I believe you're running out of insults, my friend." And Arthur can hear the smile.
"And I believe we have had the conversation about using correct titles, have we not?"
"That we have, Sire" replies Merlin. He feels like Arthur's just punched him in the stomach. He will never see him as a friend, he will always be just a servant in Arthur's eyes, and that fact hurts more than drinking any poison ever has.
Arthur glances over at his manservant, hearing the smile leave his voice. It's replaced by something that sounds almost like tiredness. How can he be tired? They've only been riding for five minutes! Arthur wants to say something, but he's not sure what. He feels like he should apologise for something, but that's preposterous. He is the crowned Prince of Camelot – he couldn't possibly apologise to a servant. Even if that servant is Merlin. And anyway, he has nothing to say sorry for. He is the Prince after all. Instead, they ride in an awkward silence for a few more minutes until Merlin drops back slightly to ride next to Gwaine. Arthur feels the absence of his presence like a throb through his chest.
"What's the Princess done now?" Ask Gwaine, looking over at his friends wounded face.
"Who says Arthur's done anything?"
"Your face" replies Gwaine smoothly, well past being shocked at Merlin's use of the Princesses name. Stupid nobles and their titles anyway.
"It's nothing, Gwaine, honestly. I just don't like hunting and it's making me feel a little down, that's all"
"Then we'll have to make sure we stop in at least three taverns before we leave the lower town, eh?" Smiles Gwaine, ignoring the exasperated looks being thrown his way by Leon and Percival and slinging an arm round Merlin's shoulders as much as possible considering the horses in their way.
"Will you all hurry up!" Shouts Arthur, turning round to glare at Gwaine, keeping his eyes trained on the Knight until his arm drops from Merlin's shoulders to rest on his reigns again.
"I doubt you'll be able to convince him to stop in a tavern any time soon, Gwaine" says Lancelot, guiding his horse up to the other side of Merlin. "The mood he's in now, I'd be surprised if he didn't keep us riding until the sun sets just as punishment."
"Ah, but the Princess wouldn't do that, Lancelot. He wouldn't want to hurt his precious Merlin's arse, would he?" replies Gwaine, cracking up despite to look of utter red faced fury on Merlin's face. Merlin can feel his magic swirling around inside him, just begging to be released. He'd never hurt Gwaine, not in a million years, but spelling him into silence for the rest of the trip would be lovely.
"Er, Gwaine?" Asks Percival tentatively, throwing confused looks at Merlin's bright red face, "why would Arthur care about Merlin's arse?"
"Because if Merlin's going to ride anything, the Princess over there would rather it wasn't a horse." Replies Gwaine with a gleeful thump on Merlin's shoulder. "He wouldn't want you all worn out before we've even set up the tents now, would he?" Oh, the spell's looking good right now!
"It's not worth the risk" whispers Lancelot, practically reading Merlin's mind.
"But…but…but…" says Merlin, completely lost for words. How could the Knights be thinking that he and Arthur did…well…that?
"Don't be shy Merlin" Encourages Gwaine, in full swing now – the infuriating man! "There is many a Knight who would give anything to be in your position"
"Are you one of those?" Asks Lancelot quickly, before Merlin can get the words of the Old Religion past his shocked tongue.
"Heavens no!" Exclaims Gwaine, looking thoroughly insulted. "He's a Noble" and it sounds just as much as an insult coming from his mouth as the word Sire does coming out of Merlin's.
"Um, Gwaine" says Leon, "you are aware that you're a Knight, yes?"
"But I'm a peasant at heart, Sir other Knight" says Gwaine proudly.
"What in the world are you lot talking about?" Demands Arthur, his voice booming at them as he closes the distance between himself and the rest of the group quickly.
He'd been riding up ahead, trying his hardest to catch snippets of their conversation without showing that he was interested, but apart from getting the words 'tavern', 'Princess' and 'Peasant' he'd been lost.
"Merlin's arse" declares Percival, skipping the part about Gwaine being a peasant. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell the Prince that one of his best Knights was wishing he'd never been knighted. Percival's quite proud of himself, jumping in to save his brother in arms from the fury of their Prince. That is until said Prince looks like he's going to explode.
"What?" Splutters Arthur. His eyes search the group, skipping quickly over his manservant's mortified face, to rest back on Percival. The other Knights' faces are a collage of exasperation, amusement and wariness. Percival, bless the man, just looks like his very confused self. He can handle a sword better than most of his men, and he's stronger than any other, but poor Percival's intelligence is rather questionable. Arthur can't decide whether he wants to yell, laugh or kill Gwaine (because he knows, without a doubt, that this was Gwaine's choice topic) so he settles for a disapproving look and all of them. As he turns his horse to head back up the front he catches Merlin's indignant;
"Why would you tell him that?!"
"And, just so that you are forewarned, we shall be stopping in the next tavern we pass" says Arthur, his voice lifting to ensure it carries back to his men and Merlin.
He's pretty sure he's going to need a very strong drink to get the rather graphic images what he'd like to do to his manservants arse out of his head. What the hell is wrong with him? He's never had these thoughts in his waking hours before. In his dreams; yes. And if he's woken up a morning or two in a particular predicament due to his manservants blue gaze piercing him in his sleep, then that was something that he never explored when conscious. God, this was going to be a long two weeks.
X/X/X/X/X/X/X
Review?
A/N - Just a quick update for this chapter. Thanks teacupcococake for the heads up :)
I'm going to try to update once a day for the rest of the week as I'm still technically on holiday but then it might slow down to once a week when I'm back at college.