DISCRIPTION: A tournament is held every year in Camelot where champions wear handkerchiefs left anonymously in their chambers and at the end of the tournament the fair "maidens" who left them reveal themselves. This could be the perfect chance for Gwen to show Arthur her affection, but when she turns to Merlin for help, will his own feelings for the prince get in the way?
DICLAIMER: I own NOTHINGK!
WARNING: This fic is slashy slash slash, if you don't like it, don't read it.
A.N./ This story is set in the first or second season (or somewhere in between) so if you're just getting into the series it's great cause there are no spoilers, if you're a seasoned fan it's great cause it's not unlike frosted flakes in being more than good. NOTE: THERE WILL BE A RATING CHANGE FURTHER DOWN THE LINE.
Arthur was in a bad mood. He was always in a bad mood this time of the year. The annual "Token Tournament" was fast approaching. It was an idiotic festival passed down from the time of the "Old Religion" held around harvest time in order to assure good fortune in the upcoming year. This particular tournament was open to all of Camelot, not just the nobility, though the peasants fought in a different league. The peasants wrestled and the nobility jousted—and each participant was supposed to wear a token. The tradition was that maidens would sneak into a participant's room and leave a token for the participant to wear into combat. After the competition, if the maiden was pleased with the participant's performance they would retrieve their token at the ball or one of the many parties spread across Camelot that night. If the maiden was not pleased the participant would be forced to wear the token, as a sign of shame, until the harvest was done.
Uther dismissed the superstitious foundations for the tournament, but the festivities made the people of Camelot happy, so the king continued the tradition. If you asked Arthur, the whole thing was designed so the ladies in waiting could show of their handkerchiefs. Arthur hated the thing, had since he was deemed eligible. It wasn't because he didn't receive any tokens, the opposite in fact. It was because he received too many.
Ladies were constantly breaking into his chambers leaving bits of silk and lace. He had even caught more than one nobleman leaving tokens. They always denied it, acted flustered, and lied saying they were lost or simply looking around. Right. Sure. And what about the handkerchief on the table next to what was undoubtedly a letter containing a confession of love imploring Arthur to choose this particular token? Oh! What, that? Why that was already there when they had walked in!
The worst part was that it was anonymous, so Arthur couldn't return the offensive material. Whenever he was offered a token in person he politely refused. It's not like anything could come of them. He was to marry Morgana, he knew that. It was cruel to think otherwise. So, he never accepted tokens, never wore them at tournaments, and never deluded himself to thinking he could fall in love.
He wished he could throw away the tokens that appeared in his room, but that would be rude. So he kept them. And when the weight of his destiny seemed like it was crushing him, he would lay all the pieces of cloth out on his bed. He would pick up a few and imagine who it had belonged to. He could always tell which ones belonged to a man. They were the most simple. Not flashy or gaudy, no special trim. Elegant and simple- and always new. Arthur could almost feel the time it took to get the right one. They were never feminine, but never too rugged. Arthur liked these ones, but they hurt him. They reminded him of a part himself, that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shut off.
Arthur was in a bad mood. It was still a week before the tournament and he already had received at least a dozen tokens. He wished that instead of attending boring pre-festival events he could go hunting or go a couple rounds with one of his chamber maidens. Suddenly, Arthur had a near maddening urge to do… Something! Maybe slay a beast, or spar with a knight in training, something… violent.
Just as the prince was considering wandering in the woods till he came across a pack of bandits, his clumsy buffoon of a manservant stumbled into his chambers, spilling what was presumably his royal lunch over his royal floor.
"Umm… Whoops," the ever articulate Merlin said. "I'll, umm, I'll go get some more of that." Merlin turned to leave when leave when Arthur stopped him.
"Merlin," Arthur called, rising from his chair. This was his chance. The perfect opportunity to do what relieved his tensions best: torment his manservant. "Are you just going to leave that mess there?" he said pointing to the puddle of soup on the stone floor.
"… No?" Merlin responded.
"Never mind about my lunch, I really can't afford to wait here all day while you try to get the bowl to the table, just clean up this mess. In fact, this whole room is filthy. I want you clean it."
"Yes, my lord."
"And I don't mean just clean it. I want you to scrub every inch of this room, from top to bottom—and if I can't see myself reflected in the floor I'm going to make you do it again."
Merlin looked around at the massive room with a look of pure anguish.
"When you're done with that you may muck out my horses and draw me a hot bath."
And with that Arthur slapped Merlin on the back and left the room feeling at least a little bit better.
Chapter 1 done! Woo! Go you for reading it! If you're planning on*gasp* reviewing give yourself a pat on the back and a gold star. So… Just so you know, I don't really think my preview/summary thingy really reflects this story, but I couldn't think of anything else! If you have a better idea, you can PM me about it… but it might be a little early for that. Anyways! I'm usually really bad at updating so I wrote and typed up this WHOLE story first, so I'll be updating DAILY. For sure. If I don't, then I've been abducted by aliens.