A/N: This is an entry for Merlin Winter Olympics, a fest where we write entries with the Merlin characters intersecting somehow with the winter olympics. Had it not been for that inspiration, this fic would never have entered my mind. :D
Disclaimer: Just borrowing characters and having some light and lovely fun with them. Thanks, Merlin writers for giving us such a wonderful playground. No infringement intended.
Of course Merlin had heard of Arthur Jamieson. Everyone knew Arthur, knew that he was a blue blood athlete, a third-generation British Olympian that had been expected to bring home figure skating gold from the day he was born and as of yet, had failed in that quest. His face was all over the magazines and tabloids, had been ever since he'd won the figure skating national title two years in a row and placed third in the World Championships last year.
He was on the rise, peaking at just the right time to put the rest of the skating world back on its heels. According to the sensationalist press, this was Jamieson's year and everyone else could be considered mere footnotes.
Which had made Merlin a very annoyed footnote for quite a while before he decided that he was an Olympian in his own right and no one could force him to serve as an outdated mode of grammar notation if he didn't want to be one, thank you very much.
Perhaps after that, he had tried to force Jamieson out of his mind too forcefully, because how else could it be that was standing face to face, minutes into an argument with Britain's favorite Olympian before his brain caught him up on exactly who he was insulting with frightening regularity?
For an eternal moment, he quailed, cursing his stupid mouth and its tendency to get him into trouble.
But then he looked over again and saw the sneer on Arthur's face and the disdain in his eyes and just had to open his big mouth again.
Five minutes earlier...
"I think he's had enough, don't you?" Merlin gestured to the employee who had been trying, in broken English, to ask the blonde man to go somewhere with him. The blond man, instead of being kind and understanding, had been obnoxiously parroting the man's words back, distorting them further and carrying the joke on far too long. "Пожалуйста, прости мои соотечественники. Они пещерные люди." Merlin turned to the hotel worker, speaking in what he hoped was passable Russian to apologize for his countrymen, noting with a wry smile that they were cavemen.
The man's face lit up. "Спасибо, сэр. Английский переводчик еще не приехал." With a flush of embarrassment on his ruddy cheeks, the Russian explained that the English-speaking translator had not yet arrived for his morning duty at the hotel. "Пожалуйста, попросите его сообщить в ресепшн для сообщения."
Merlin nodded his understanding and offered to give Arthur the message. "Спасибо за сообщение. Я дам ему для вас."
"Огромное спасибо. Я должен вернуться к работе," the man said thankfully before scurrying away.
Merlin took a deep breath before turning back and pinning the obnoxious prat with a forceful glare. "That very nice man was simply trying give you a message that you need to report-"
"To the front desk, yes I know. I just didn't particularly want to go." The guys with him, who looked more or less British in their casual jeans and jumpers exchanged looks before agreeing with him loudly.
"You understood him? And yet you were making him repeat himself and ridiculing him for his accent? You pompous arse."
"What did you call me?"
"You heard me. We're here as ambassadors of Great Britain and you're behaving like a spoilt child. These people are not your servants."
Arthur sputtered and looked back at his friends. "I know that! But he couldn't seem to understand my question in return: if someone needs me, why aren't they ringing my cell?"
Merlin modulated his tone slightly. "I don't know. Perhaps you should go to the front desk as he asked and find out?"
Arthur snorted. "So. You speak Russian?"
"Yes. And you don't."
Arthur smirked and glanced back at his friends. "How did you learn Russian? Did you go to a special school or something?"
"No. I started studying Russian when I heard the Olympics were going to be in Sochi."
"Why?"
"It was a great excuse to do something I'd always wanted to do."
"Whatever." Arthur's bored expression put Merlin back on his guard again. "I don't have time for things like that. I'm too busy training."
"I assure you, I'm more busy training than you are. I have a full-time job on top of my training."
Arthur's eyebrows rose. "So you're an Olympian, then?" Merlin nodded, a distinctly unpleasant feeling uncurling in his gut. "What sport? No, let me guess..." He looked Merlin up and down and pursed his lips. "What do you think, gentlemen? What Olympic sport does he compete in? Chess? Badminton, no that's summer...oh, wait-is it curling?"
Merlin's cheeks colored despite himself. "There's nothing wrong with curling. It's a challenging sport."
Arthur threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, this is perfect! He curls for his country! And how many endorsement deals are you bringing in with that kind of status? It must be, what, at least twenty quid a year?"
Merlin's ears were hot and his vision narrowed down to the arrogant git in front of him. "The last time I checked, figure skating isn't exactly on the list of most manly sports either. Don't you take ballet?"
Arthur flushed pink. "Flexibility classes, you berk."
"I've heard it both ways." Merlin held his gaze for a moment before looking away, embarrassed at how quickly Arthur had gotten under his skin. Really, people questioned the validity of curling as an Olympic sport all the time and Merlin refused to let it bother him. Add to that the fact that he now recognized this prat as being of practically royal British blood and he was feeling a bit sheepish. "Either way, I think we're rather in the same boat, friend. Truce?"
Arthur, however, didn't follow his change of heart at all. His upper lip curled. "Friend? Did you just call me a friend?"
Merlin bristled automatically at his tone. "My mistake. I'd never have a friend who could be such an arse."
His friends burst out laughing and for some reason, Arthur's lips quirked in a smile, though he looked away quickly as if to hide it. "That's the second time you've called me that. No one does that."
"Maybe they should start. Arse."
Arthur held up three fingers in note of his insults. "So you're, what, the best curler in the world? Going to bring home the gold to the cheering, weeping masses of GB?"
"Something like that."
"Do you push the broom thingee or do the throwing?"
Merlin's eyebrows rose. "I'm the skip, that means captain-"
"I know what that means."
"Then you probably know I usually call from the back while my teammates sweep. It may seem pointless, but the brooms do make a huge difference."
"Perhaps, but it's what you yell across the ice that seems so silly."
"Makes sense to us."
"You know, I've a good mind to come and watch you. Watch you play your cute little sport." Merlin refused to rise to that bait, even though the way Arthur's mates were laughing made it difficult. "You start tomorrow, yeah?"
"Semifinals aren't until the 19th. Bit boring until then."
"Yes, but you might not make it to the semis. I'll come tomorrow and try to keep myself awake."
"Sure you won't be too busy ice dancing?"
"I'm a figure skater not an ice dancer."
"Semantics," Merlin said airily, waving a hand.
"And..." Arthur continued as though Merlin hadn't spoken, "the short program isn't for a few days. I'm sure I can catch some of the action in between my events."
"Brilliant." Merlin gave him a bright, sarcastic grin that was returned with the added power of a manic gleam in Arthur's eyes.
"Try not to choke. I'll be watching."
"Shouldn't be a problem. I'll throw the first hammer imagining it going straight for your face. Should help immensely. Cheers!" Merlin started to walk away, then turned back. "Don't forget to check at the front desk, with your best manners on," he added cheekily.
The frustrated grimace on Arthur's face was beautiful to behold.
After that rather unpleasant first meeting, Merlin might rather have kept away from the figure skating. But he wasn't given a choice. His best friend, Gwen, was an enormous figure skating fan and wanted nothing more than to watch Arthur skate his short program in the team figure skating event.
So two days later, Merlin found himself making his way into the Skating Center with the rest of the crowd.
"I can't believe we're actually free and he's here and he's skating and we're here because we're Olympians, too and it's just so completely brilliant that-"
"You often forget to stop and take a breath? I noticed." Merlin indicated two empty seats halfway down the row and Gwen moved toward them, murmuring polite things to all the people they were nudging on the way.
"So sorry. Thank you," she said as she finally sat down. "I know. I know! I'm an Arthur junkie. But he is so fit and so smart and-"
"And he's a complete prat. I told you about that."
"But he's never like that. Not really. I'm sure that something had upset him-"
"Gwen!" A tall, blonde girl was standing up on the row below them, reaching over to hug Gwen.
"Elena! I can't believe this is the first time I've seen you! Oh-ouch!" Gwen clutched at her hair and Elena jerked forward.
"Just a little entanglement here. No problem," Merlin leaned forward to help them get Gwen's hair out of the zipper of Elena's jacket.
"Sorry, Gwen. I'm such a klutz!" Elena's self-deprecating smile was charming. "Have you started curling yet?"
"Tomorrow. How about you?"
"No, downhill doesn't begin for another day. Just practice runs right now. Isn't this exciting?"
"It's a dream. Well, except the fact that my room is frigid and our hallway makes this buzzing noise at night. But it's still the Olympics! We're here to watch Arthur skate. He's so amazing!"
"Oh, I know. And he's so brave to go ahead and compete tonight!"
Gwen and Merlin exchanged glances. "What makes you say that?" Merlin asked quietly, even though there was enough noise going on around them that they shouldn't be heard.
Elena leaned in closer. "He's been getting death threats. Gotten three so far. The second one was delivered to the front desk at the hotel. The last one came through on a phone in the Skating Center last night during practice."
Merlin's stomach dropped. So the message that he had advised Arthur to get at the front desk had been a death threat? Had Arthur suspected it? Perhaps that was why he had been so reticent to retrieve it. Merlin closed his eyes and winced.
"You didn't know," Gwen said consolingly, patting his arm.
"Didn't know what?" Elena asked, her eyes wide.
"He and Arthur had a run-in the other day and Merlin quite got under his skin. But there you go, Arthur did have a reason for being so awful. He was stressed. Anyone would be."
Merlin nodded, foregoing any more comments as the first group of skaters hit the ice to warm up. They all settled down and watched as the Russian team slowly proved their dominance on the ice.
Merlin was quickly caught up in the excitement as the men took the ice to warm up. He always forgot how breathtaking these programs were. Beautiful and so difficult. The men especially did such difficult jumps that it defied logic. How could someone jump and spin so high in the air, only to land on a thin blade, expected to swing out of it and somehow make it artistic as well?
Arthur's program was explosive. He was not a meticulous skater, but the raw power in his movements evoked strong responses from the audience. His was the grace of the lion on the hunt, strength wrapped in beauty.
Early in the program, he landed his quad-four rotations in the air-after a triple toe loop, cementing his status as one of the best on the ice. There were just so many ways that the jump series could go wrong. At the crescendo of the music, he drew himself into an incredibly fast spin, deep red shirt flashing in the lights as if he were on fire.
Merlin sat back in awe, relegating himself to the position of Olympic footnote again. How could anyone expect to compete with that for Britain's attention? No wonder he was the media's darling.
But still, despite the standing ovation Arthur received from half of the audience, the Russian skater got a higher score in the end. There was a lot of suspicious talk following the conclusion of the mens part of the team skate, but Merlin's mind was more on Arthur's safety.
How serious was that death threat? How were the Sochi officials handling it? Something about the situation bothered him. Okay, well, a great deal of somethings. Arthur was so exposed here, very out of his element; they all were. It would be so easy to take advantage of that. Merlin wished he knew a way to help.
"I'm sure he'll be fine," Elena said when Merlin shared his thoughts. "Last I heard, Leon-he's a biathlete and Arthur's friend from school- was trying to talk him into checking out of Olympic village and getting a hotel room in the city, just to be sure."
"But shouldn't he be safer here?" Gwen asked, shocked.
"Well, that's what I said to Gwaine-he's that hockey player that went to uni with Arthur, you know him-and he said that the threats keep coming to Arthur wherever he is. It's like someone knows where he is all the time. Spooky, right? But they figure it must be an Olympian, then."
"So they figure he's safer outside the village?"
Merlin's gaze found Arthur where he sat with the rest of the British team, watching the pairs warm up for their portion of the program. He didn't look worried as he chatted with the coach at his side. Maybe this was all just a hoax, something to get Arthur off his game. The Russians were serious about skating, after all. But were they serious enough to sabotage their rival? No, surely not.
But then who would? Who would be crazy and desperate enough to try to stop Arthur by threatening his life over and over?
It was impossible to know, but whoever had done it must be seriously frustrated now. The threats alone weren't enough to keep Arthur from doing his best, as he'd proved tonight. If they were going to stop him from winning the individual gold, they were going to have to step up their efforts.
That thought stole Merlin's breath and kept him awake for nearly an hour that night.
