Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin
Warning: bad language, killing of rodent (don't worry, the rodent deserves it)
AN: I wrote this almost three years ago. I just recently found it cluttering up my computer, so I decided to publish it. What's the worst that can happen?
Rats!
Merlin has had enough. Now, he had suffered many indignities in his life, most of them courtesy of Arthur, but this, this went too far. Merlin glared at the rat standing on Arthur bed. Now that was bad, but it was also CHEWING ON MERLIN'S BLUE NECKERCHIEF! The blue one was his favorite, so he had taken it off before cleaning Arthur's mud-encrusted armor. However, the moment it touched the ground, the fucker had STOLEN IT. Merlin was angry. No, he was beyond angry. He was more furious than Arthur had been when he saw Gwaine flirting with Gwen.
"It's on, bitch!"
Merlin slowly inched towards Arthur's sword before lunging for it, picking it up and assuming the fighter's stance that had been beaten into him by years of playing training dummy for Camelot's finest. He tried to think of a plan, but one look at that smug little rat's face made him toss logic out the window. Instead he leapt at it, war cry bursting from his lips, the sheer force of his rage channeling power through the sword, causing it to burst into flames. Somehow, probably magic, his aim was true, the fiery blade slipping right through that mangy rodent's body, burning its corpse extra crispy. Merlin snatched his neckerchief from its blackened claws and raised it up in victory.
Of course, then he noticed Arthur in the corner, who had entered around "It's on, bitch!"
"Merlin?"
"Yes sire?" Merlin replied, looking as nonchalant as one could while holding a sword with a charred rat corpse speared on it.
"Why was my sword on fire?"
"Friction, sire,"
Arthur looked suitably baffled.
"What?"
"It's the same way flints work," Merlin said, bluffing wildly, "Friction between the metal and the air causes the sword to spark, which covers it in fire temporarily. You see, I haven't sharpened it yet, so it has a rougher surface than usual. It's why swords need sharpening so often. Don't want it bursting into flames and getting you accused of sorcery!"
Arthur still looked confused, but in less of a "Burn the witch!" way.
"Well, um, thank you for getting the rat, and, uh, give my sword an extra sharpening today. If you need me, I'll be, err, away!"
With that, Arthur scurried off, leaving Merlin to bask in his sweet, barbecued victory.