(I wasn't going to post this on here, but figured that some of my readers on here don't follow my LJ so I might as well post to both. But just a heads up that my LJ is a more active place for my works and is more frequently updated. Has moar fic.)

Notes: My first foray into the Merlin fandom (about bloody time, too), and it was oodles of fun and nonsense. Thanks to mooingtron on LJ for letting me read to her and call her up at stupid o'clock in the morning to hash out ideas for this and ten thousand other Merlin-related things, and most of all for getting into the fandom with me and obsessing over Colin's neck.

also WHY DON'T DAMN NORMAL LINES WORK AS DIVIDERS ANYMORE? FF, THIS IS WHY I HATE YOU.

.: Things That Didn't Happen (and other things that aren't true):.

Immediately after it happened, Arthur said "Well, I do hope you don't do that to all your employers", and Merlin turned tail to find Gwen, his eyes wide, heart pounding, and the words 'idiot, bloody idiot' a broken record in his head.

"Gwen," he announced. "I've done something very, very silly."

Gwen looks to be caught between bursting into laughter and raising concerned eyebrows as Merlin slides sideways into Morgana's chambers with his usual disregard for all things proper, and manages an interested smile that sits somewhere in the middle.

"Oh?"

He swallows hard and jerks his head in a sharp nod. "Yes. Very silly. Twenty seven different kinds of silly."

Her eyebrows start creeping towards her hairline. "Twenty seven?"

"Yes. Maybe more."

She waves her hands about as if to say 'Well, go on then' but Merlin ignores her. He starts pacing, waggling his finger in front of his face as he takes five steps this way, turns on his heel, and takes another five steps that way.

"I don't even know what made me do it. Why - why - did I even think it would be okay? For a second? He was just being so nice, you know - well, no, you probably don't, generally he's a right tosser - but he was being nice and calling me a friend and all this - he said thank you - and I just - I don't know. He had this look in his eye, this really, really… arrogant sort of openness like he wanted me to argue with him or do something and then I just - I just -"

He breaks off helplessly and stops pacing, facing the door with a look of pained confusion pasted all over his face, and Gwen comes up to stand beside him, all caring smiles and a warm hand on his shoulder.

"You just what, Merlin?"

He looks at her then, lips pressed into a thin, tight line, and opens his mouth to speak - but all that comes out is a strangled squeak and then he's gone, out the door in a flurry of red ears and tousled hair.

Morgana appears right after him, curious, and says "What did Merlin want?"

Gwen just tilts her head and gives it a slight shake. "Haven't the foggiest. My lady."

Merlin's not sure how long he's shut himself up in his room, but he knows he's starting to go crazy. Or maybe he already was crazy. That would explain a lot. That would explain why he did it. In fact, maybe he should go back right now and explain the whole thing away, blame it on his insanity and offer his hands to be clapped in chains for overstepping the boundaries of his position for the hundredth time.

Merlin's pacing again, punching one fist into a flat palm over and over, gnawing on his bottom lip, eyes darting all over the room.

God, but Arthur - he was asking for it. Tie Merlin to the stake for admitting it, but he was. There was this look, this look in his eyes that just dared - clearly, he's crazy.

"Would you stop that stomping about?" Gaius's 'I'm having a bad day' voice comes bursting through the slats of his door. "You'll wear a bloody hole in the floor if you keep at it much longer!"

Merlin stops, slumps down onto his bed and shoves his head in his hands. He inhales deeply, holds it with his eyes clenched tight, and lets it all out in one big rush of 'Good god I just did that'.

Next time he looks up its dark, and he takes a moment to register that he has spent over half his day decidedly not doing his chores but has yet to be reprimanded for it. Well, he thinks, at least one good thing's come of this giant cock-up. Then a feeling that it's all going to come back and bite him on the arse settles deep in his stomach, and he cringes a little as Gaius calls him for dinner.

He gets the third degree he's been expecting all day just as he swallows his last mouthful.

"Something's bothering you, Merlin."

He feigns surprise, blinks a few times, and says in a perfectly reasonable voice, "What do you mean?"

The eyebrow mocks him viciously from across the table, and Gaius settles back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "You know as well as I that you are a rotten liar. Now. Out with it."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "I'm not lying. Nothing's bothering me."

That eyebrow couldn't possibly get more condescending if the old man's life depended on it, but Merlin is well practiced in the art of ignorance, so he just gives him a delightfully confused smile and sweeps the dishes off the table to clean them.

The eyes burning holes in the back of his head make his collar itch.

It's when Prince Arthur comes into Lady Morgana's chambers early the next morning to ask if Gwen knows where Merlin's got to that things start getting interesting, and Gwen bites a fingernail absently as the cogs start turning.

"He didn't - er - say anything to you, did he?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sire."

Arthur purses his lips, eyebrows knotted together, and gives a curt nod before sweeping out into the hall.

Gwen folds the last of the bed sheets and decides she very much wants to hear the rest of Merlin's story.

Merlin wakes up the next morning momentarily - blissfully - ignorant of the previous day's events. He stretches like a cat and gives a wide, appreciative yawn to the morning sunlight painting his room a faint orange, and relaxes, boneless, into the mattress.

Then the memory hits him like a sack of bricks and he slaps his palm over his eyes with a muttered, "Oh, bollocks," then stares blankly at the ceiling.

Well. Nothing else for it.

He's up and out of bed in a matter of seconds, forgoing breakfast in favour of stealing Gaius's shopping list he'd written up the night before, and whirls out the door into the early motions of Camelot's marketplace.

Arthur won't need him this morning, Merlin's dead set on it, so he feels no guilt whatsoever in wasting hours trawling the busy streets, looking for obscure ingredients for his guardian and not preparing the prince for his daily training regime with the knights. He knows the prince is more than capable of dressing himself in the mornings - he's just a lazy sod who can't be bothered putting his own shirt on, really - so he leaves him to it.

And if he avoids all who might possibly recognise him for the rest of the day, save Gaius, then so be it. Surely His Highness can go one day without having him fail miserably at his job. Might as well save him the hassle and just leave anyway. Or jump off the tower. He's not really sure which is more appealing.

Gwen's curiosity is getting a little out of control when Arthur mentions his missing servant again during dinner with the king the next night. He catches her eye when he brings it up, but she gives a barely perceptible shake of the head and frowns. Morgana gives a dismissive comment about the boy not knowing which way was up half the time, and Uther wonders why he would care so much about a useless servant anyway - he can always be replaced.

Arthur frowns at that and spends the rest of the meal pushing his food around his plate and not eating, and Gwen watches him intently.

Merlin's getting quite good at this whole 'hiding' lark. He comes out at meal times, makes up an impressive array of excuses for Gaius, sneaks back to his room late and leaves at some horrid time of morning. But really - he's found so many nooks and crannies in the old castle during his sentence of servitude that it's really not that difficult to stay away from anyone resembling a figure of authority for the next couple of days.

- Until Gwen finds him in an alcove behind the tapestry on the ground floor and he remembers, with a sinking feeling, that she's been working here much longer than he has.

She puts on a patronising smile when she sees him, takes a deceptively strong hold on his arm and hauls him to his feet. "Merlin," she sighs happily, "there you are. I do believe there's a prince looking for you."

Merlin whimpers, but doesn't have a choice as she starts leading him up the stairs. "I'm going to die," is the first thing he says.

"Are you?"

"He's going to execute me. Hang me. Burn me. Something. Something involving lots of pain and resulting in lots of death."

Gwen blinks and nods, and looks politely curious. "Really? What could you possibly have done that wou-"

"I kissed him."

She trips on the next step. "I'm sorry?"

Merlin's hand is over his mouth and his eyes are wide, like it's the first time he's heard the news as well. "I kissed the prince," comes through a little muffled, but then he moves his hand from mouth to forehead and looks at her properly. "I kissed Prince Arthur."

Gwen's hand is on her heart as she says, "Good god, you are going to die."

"What were you thinking?"

"I don't -"

"You absolute bloody great fool! My god, Merlin, what - how - did you just up and snog him or was it a planned attack? How does something like that come up in conversation, anyway? I mean, you're his servant, but - not - oh no, don't -"

"Gwen!" Merlin splutters, horrified at her implications. "I am not a common wh-"

"I know, I know!" she backtracks hastily, "I didn't mean - well, I might've - but you know, I don't really know what to think with all this - nonsense, and..." She pushes her knuckles to her mouth and says against them, "Oh you fool."

Merlin winces. "Not helping."

She sits beside him on the bed heavily. "I know, I'm sorry. But - you enormous idiot."

There's a short silence, then Merlin quips, "Can we maybe pretend I'm dead?"

Gwen gives a humourless, breathy laugh. "We may not need to pretend, soon enough."

"You are a wealth of support, Guinevere."

It's the next day when Arthur is on patrol with his knights and some new replacement lackey that Merlin says around a mouthful, "I've got it."

Gwen looks over from where she's fluffing Lady Morgana's pillows and invites him to continue.

"I'll say I was possessed."

She rolls her eyes. "If you say that then he'll wonder why you disappeared for three days afterwards, question you until he's blue in the face about every detail of the day, and start a search party for a sorcerer which will probably result in the death of some unfortunate soul who is completely unrelated to the issue."

"Unless I'm that person," Merlin mutters. "I wouldn't object to losing my head at the moment."

Gwen sits opposite him at the table and takes one of his hands. "Why don't you just face him?"

Merlin looks at her like she's grown an extra head. She takes her hand back and prays to the ceiling. "Yes, well, silly me for thinking we'd do this the honest way."

"Right you are."

Merlin finishes munching on his bread in silence, rattling his brains for another escape route. "Why don't I just… Just say it was for luck, or something? He was about to leave on border patrol for the day, and you know how things have been lately… It would be perfectly reasonable, right?"

Gwen raises an eyebrow. "How about -?"

"Or say it was a life and death situation. I had to do it or he'd die, and then he'd think I saved his life and it will all blow over. Or that… that it was a dare. Or… erm…" Merlin thumps his forehead against the hard wood. "Of course not. Can't I just plead insanity? That seemed like a good idea."

Gwen pauses with her mouth open, about to speak, and looks thoughtful. "You know… That one actually has some merit."

Merlin's head jerks up, hopeful, and then the door opens and they both jump up as Lady Morgana sweeps into the room. She smiles at them both and says with a barely-there smirk, "Or you could just tell him the truth."

Merlin gives Gaius's eyebrow a run for its money as he stares from friend to lady, confused. "I'm sorry, my lady?"

Morgana sinks with uncanny grace into the folds of her armchair and settles her steady gaze on him. "Tell him how you feel."

He blinks, silenced, then - "I - you - Lady Morgana, I'm afraid I don't -"

He glances at Gwen, who is looking sideways at her mistress and biting her lip to keep in what Merlin is sure is a tidal wave of laughter, and to Morgana, who is looking all very regal and proper and smirking. His eyes narrow to slits as he gives up all pretence of caring about propriety, mutters, "You're both horrible, horrible people," and trudges out of the room to evil cackling.

"Do you know what's wrong with Arthur?" Gaius asks that evening, stepping over Merlin - who is sprawled out on the floor, magic book on his face and a hand outstretched towards a cloth that he thought about using at some point during the afternoon, but just spelled to do the dusting instead.

He was almost asleep, but he shoots upright at Gaius's words, the book falling with a loud thud to the floor beside him. "Er, Arthur? No, no - what's wrong with him?"

Gaius shuffles around amongst his shelves, sifting through bottles as he murmurs almost to himself, "He's been complaining of a headache that he says he's had for going on three days now…" He swings around to look at Merlin questioningly. "You don't know anything about it, do you?"

Merlin is the picture of surprise. "No, sorry."

Gaius gives him an 'oh, I'm sure' look but turns back to his potions. "It looks like it's just a tension headache, nothing serious. I suggested he just get you to give him a massage but he said he hasn't seen you for days."

Merlin bravely fights off that mental image, snorts and mocks under his breath, "Poor thing's probably feeling overworked."

"Sorry?"

"Er -"

"Merlin." Gaius picks up a potion that is a distinct vomit colour and gives him a calculating once over before reaching down and thrusting the concoction into his hand. "I was under the impression that he'd been working you off your feet lately, hm?"

Merlin wobbles to said feet, potion in hand, and starts backing towards the door. "Well - yes, I mean - he has! That's why I haven't seen him - hardly got the time to, really. Cleaning stables and polishing armour and scrubbing the roof and testing his food for poisons and all that - that fun stuff, you know?"

He's at the door, one hand on the handle and ready to bolt, when Gaius gives him the eyebrow. "I see. Well, in that case I suppose you were perfectly entitled to a nap on the floor."

Merlin grins. "I knew you'd understand."

"Yet despite being so horridly worked to the bone, I'm sure you'll be able to find the time somewhere between your multitude of chores to deliver this to your ailing master."

There's a heavy silence, and it presses down on him from all sides until he can hardly breathe and he caves, sprinting out the door.

"Take that to Arthur!" Gaius shouts after him.

Merlin shoots around the corner before falling against the nearest available wall and gives a low curse. Time to find Gwen.

"Oh no, Merlin, I'm not doing that. That's your job."

"But - please!"

"No, no, I've got far too much to get on with for Lady Morgana. You'll just have to do it yourself."

"Gwen!" Merlin insists, waving the vomit bottle in front of her face.

She just smiles at him, pats him on the shoulder, and goes to walk away.

"How would you feel if he got sick - or died - because you wouldn't give this to him, then?"

She just turns to him with her hands on her hips and a grin hiding in there somewhere. "How would you feel?"

Merlin shrugs. "Well - it - wouldn't care, really. He probably deserves it, to be honest."

She gives in to the smile then, and says over her shoulder, "Then just don't give it to him. Not that hard. Bye, Merlin!"

Fine.

He glares after her, puts the bottle down on the nearest flat surface, and stalks away from it.

Two minutes later sees him scurrying back and scooping the bottle into his pocket, calling himself all a manner of ridiculous names as he does it and hating himself something fierce.

Merlin likes to say his plans always go exactly as he intended, but he knows it's in a whole other world to the truth when it really comes down to it - so just this once, he's hoping it actually does work and doesn't go pear-shaped and he can go in and go out without a soul knowing he was here and then carry on being a coward about this in peace. Just the way he likes it.

So he waits until he sees Arthur leave his chambers for the evening, off to have dinner with King Uther and Lady Morgana and talk nonsense over a preposterously lavish meal, and sneaks inside almost silently.

He has the bottle clenched in his hand, a note strapped around the stopper saying;

For your headaches, or whatever

you're complaining about now.

-M.

- when the door clatters open loudly and in walks the prince.

Merlin's heart nearly stops, and he freezes with the bottle against his chest and his eyes wide like a rabbit in the torchlight. Arthur stops almost as suddenly, hand outstretched for his cloak that he's somehow forgotten despite the horrid chill in the air, and slowly resumes his usual, straight-backed posture.

"Merlin," he says tonelessly.

There's a very brief, awkward silence, then Merlin splutters, "I thought you'd - I - at dinner - Uther - what?"

Arthur breathes in to say something, pauses and lets his head tilt almost imperceptibly, and closes his mouth again. Merlin takes that as an invitation to either continue or get out, opts to take both, and says, "Well, Gaius asked me to - er - give you this. Headaches. You know. So I'll just -"

"Of course." The prince's mouth is tight and his jaw set. "You can put it over there." He waves to the dresser beside his bed, picking up his cloak.

Merlin doesn't move to help him fasten it. "I - what?"

Arthur exhales quietly. "Over there, Merlin. On the dresser. I'm sure you can manage that without anything untoward happening, can't you?"

Merlin stares for just a moment, not sure if it's a trick of the light or if Arthur's mouth is twitching like it does on the rare occasion he tries to hide his sarcastic smile, decides not to think about the implications of that, and mutters, "Er - yes. Yes."

He puts the tonic down, wincing at the hollow sound it makes, overly loud in the tense quiet, and hurries towards the door as Arthur nods his thanks.

Merlin ducks his head, gives the slightest of bows, and keeps right on walking, waiting for the world to come crashing down around him as Arthur coldly tells him what a useless excuse for a human he is, with no understanding of his position and deals out his death sentence - but it doesn't happen.

In a way what happens is worse, as the murmured words, "I expect to see you in the morning, then," follow him out the door and loop around in his head all the way down the twisting hallways until he reaches Gaius's quarters and collapses inside.

He may be able to hide his magic from the royal family and the entirety of Camelot, but there's absolutely nothing that he can hide from Gaius - that being said, the royal family aren't quite up to scratch, intelligence-wise, so it is infinitely easier, but that's not the point.

The point is that Gaius knows everything, and it's really annoying.

"What are you so happy about, then?"

There's no use, really, so, "I'm alive," Merlin says.

Gaius nods solemnly. "Well spotted."

Merlin shakes his head. "No, I'm alive. Not dead. Arthur didn't kill me. Not even a threat."

"Yet."

"You always say the right thing, Gaius."

"Are you going to tell me what warrants your death in the first place?"

Merlin's spoon clatters against the bowl. "I - er… hm."

There's a lengthy, somewhat amused silence, and Gaius lets out a breathy chuckle. "Oh well that's very interesting, Merlin."

And he can't help but think the most alarming thought that Gaius can read minds, feeling his stomach dropping through his worn-out boots until he realises how absurd he's being, and convinces himself by the end of his meal that Gaius is just making fun of him.

If Merlin had a knife, he would slice up the tense air like a cake, force-feed pieces of it to Gwen and say to her "Look what you made me do". It's horrible. Both their movements are stilted and awkward and they take so much care not to touch that it goes beyond being polite and considerate and into downright ludicrous.

Every time their hands brush they pause, clear their throats, and carry on with the forced conversation about border patrols and the weather and "Did you know Lady Whatsit got married to Lord Something in Wherever?" All dreadfully interesting, of course, and when it's over Merrin almost collapses with relief.

He's lost all the previous night's elation over still being alive, and is beginning to think that the prince is lying in wait, preparing to strike when he least expects it. Or waiting for him to slip up again, which will most certainly result in Very Bad Things which will in turn result in death. Merlin's too afraid to bring it up, even to apologise and explain himself because he's still hanging onto that painfully fragile hope that Arthur has actually forgotten the whole issue, and if he does bring it up then Arthur will remember what a terrible person Merlin is and get back to killing him.

Basically anything Merlin does will result in his death, and he's keen to avoid that at all costs - so silence it is.

Terribly, hopelessly awkward silence at that, but silence all the same.

He's somehow still standing when Gwen comes in to drop off the laundry basket, gives him a passing glance and a vacant smile before doubling back and staring at him openly.

"Merlin," she states.

"Yes," he agrees.

"You're alive."

He pats his stomach and looks down the length of his body. "It appears so."

She drops the basket and comes up to put both hands on his shoulders, looking at him intently. "How? Why?"

"I'm not quite sure."

She ignores him. "But Arthur was - I saw him leave - did you - did he… oh."

Merlin lifts his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Then Gwen's biting her lip and taking a step backwards. "Ah."

Merlin points a warning finger at her and says smoothly, "Whatever you are thinking I can say without a hint of uncertainty that it is the furthest from the truth it could possibly be, and you have no grounding whatsoever to fuel whatever notion is going on in that girly, fluffy brain of yours."

"Oh of course, of course."

Merlin narrows his eyes. "Guinevere."

She tries to hold it in, he'll at least give her credit for that, but the joy of humiliating him wins out as she barely holds back her cackles and breathes, "So Arthur just let you manhandle him all morning and dress him then walked out with a face as red as a tomato and left you here alive after you snogged him one - all for no reason at all?"

Merlin falters. "… Yes."

"Oh of course, my mistake. Have a good day, Merlin."

The fraying ends of her skirt are just disappearing out the door when he half-shouts after her, "Don't - not Morgana!"

Merlin isn't sure what's more mortifying - kissing the prince and hiding for the following three days, or having his almost-sister, manipulator extraordinaire, find out about it.

There are far too many smirks dealt out in the hallways the following week, Merlin bearing the brunt of all of them. The usual comfort he feels around Lady Morgana is completely shot and he finds himself cowering away, hiding when he hears the sound of her boots or the swish of her dress or the lilt of her silly accent and silly laugh and just - he's a little ashamed of himself, really.

Gwen seems to have employed her vast knowledge of castle secrets as well, because all he manages to glimpse of her is the ends of her hair or the tail of her skirt as she disappears behind doorways and around corners. The only time he gets to see her is in royal meetings when they both have to be present with a handful of other palace servants, and he can't very well cause a scene there - doesn't stop him trying, though.

It's when Uther and his counsel are debating over… something, Merlin stopped listening five seconds in, that he manages to sidle up to her unnoticed and mutter under his breath, "You're a horrid, horrid friend."

The attentive, fake smile doesn't budge an inch as she replies pleasantly, "Isn't it wonderful?"

Merlin stares at her agape, and whispers in disbelief, "And to think I found you nice not two weeks ago."

"You know I love you, Merlin, but - desperate times call for desperate measures, and all that."

He tries to hold it in, he really does, so it isn't really his fault when his astonished grunt (squeal) causes a couple of noble heads to turn curiously in his direction. He ignores them, shuffles inconspicuously back to his position next to the servant with the terrible hair who smells bad, and continues not paying attention to the meeting at all.

It gets harder to ignore when, over dinner with the king the next night, Morgana says, "I see you've found your servant again, Arthur," and gives another of those infuriating smirks that implies other things that are not true and it's all Gwen's fault.

Arthur doesn't quite choke on his sip of wine, but it's a close thing, and replies evenly, "Yes, he - he was gathering information for me on the cause of the eastern border skirmishes. He's very good at - that."

She looks perfectly surprised, and Uther is perfectly oblivious, and it's all just perfect, really, when she looks to Merlin and asks sweetly, "Is this true, Merlin? You left without telling your prince? He was so worried about you."

Merlin argues with the redness in his ears for a moment before struggling out a response. "Er, yes - my lady. I felt it best to - not to tell him, should word get out as to the true nature of my absence."

She 'hm's and nods and plucks a grape and is all smiles when she simply continues to Arthur, "Such a loyal, devoted servant - well, much more than just a servant to you, really."

Merlin very nearly drops the wine jug in pure mortification, and loses the battle with his ears in one fell swoop.

Merlin ducks, wincing as the ceramic jug shatters to the left and above his head, all his previous prayers that Arthur was indeed as daft as he looked flying out the window as the next thing to shatter at his right is an ornamental plate.

"You told Morgana?"

Merlin glances up from the crook of his elbow. "You know for a knight, you haven't got very good aim."

"Merlin!"

"Okay! Just - drop the candlestick, yeah?"

Arthur waves it in his direction threateningly once more before throwing it to the side with a frustrated huff. He doesn't even wait until it hits the wall before stalking over to Merlin and hauling him to his feet, holding him at arm's length with one hand dangerously close to his neck.

"You better have a good explanation for why my sister is making veiled comments over dinner in front of my father, Merlin."

"Yes! I mean, no! Well - Gwen - but Morgana - she knows things. It's weird. I didn't have to tell her - she can see into people's souls or something equally as -"

"I said good explanation, Merlin, or an explanation at all, because my good-as-sister knows that you - that - what you did to me, and if I don't hear a decent reason in the next ten second so help me I will -"

"Kill me, I know, believe me. I could probably even help you get creative with how you do it - but I'm sorry, okay? It was - it was a matter of life and death!"

Arthur blinks, and the hand gripping his neck in a dangerous manner relaxes the smallest amount. "A what?"

"Yes - life and death! If I didn't - that - to you then you would've died." Merlin nods earnestly, employing his puppy eyes and willing Arthur to believe him with all his might, hoping that maybe just this once his magic can manage to bend free will and the whole situation will just go away.

Arthur doesn't look convinced. "And who would have me killed, then?"

Merlin falters. "Er… There was - well - she's gone now, you see, because it didn't work. The spell, that is. The spell, and you had to be - kissed - before midnight or else - you… well…"

Arthur's lips tighten and he leans threateningly close. "Merlin, if you're lying to me…"

"Okay! I was possessed!"

Arthur almost jerks back in surprise, confusion twisting his features. "Posess-"

"No! It was for luck! You were leaving for patrol and it - it was for luck." Merlin wants to put Arthur's hand properly onto his neck and give him step-by-step instructions on how to crush the windpipe.

Arthur just rolls his eyes, frustration mounting. "Well I'm touched, but really, a simple 'good luck' would probably have sufficed."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm insane -"

"Well, der," the prince snorts inelegantly.

" - and I shouldn't have done it but you were being nice and you said thank you - do you know how little that happens? No, I suppose you don't, because you're a self-important arse, but you did and I just - I - I don't know, it just happened and -"

"Merlin."

"- it shouldn't have and you can do whatever you want with me or to me or whatever - throw me in the dungeons, even though really, I'll probably just escape because you lot are completely useless and bloody hell I'm really not helping myself -"

"Shut up."

"- so you might as well just tie me to the stake and burn me or chop my head off like we all know you royals are so fond of doing because you know I'm actually really useless and you would probably be better off without me an-mmph."

There's a silence full of breaths and confusion while Merlin wonders just what on earth is happening before concluding that dear god, he has finally broken and gone mental, when Arthur pulls away and the silence keeps stretching and it's all so real that Merlin starts to second-guess his previous assessment - but it's the only one that makes sense.

But Arthur's hand has gone from threatening to warm at his neck, and Merlin's lips are tingling, and the candle light seems a little brighter and there's a churning in his stomach that isn't the suspicious-looking pie he ate earlier on - and he can't help but notice that Arthur looks almost nervous, except that the prince doesn't get nervous, even when he says -

"Good, stop talking. You have been taunting me since the day you walked in here with that - neck - and your blatant disregard for anything regarding honour and propriety and basically your entire job description. You always cock everything up but somehow manage to be endearing about it all at the same time as driving me absolutely out of my mind with your sheer level of stupidity - and then you kiss me and disappear for several days and the fact is, I'm going on another border patrol for the next three nights to scout the camps along the border we share with Cenred, and I would like it if you would come with me this time - preferably involving more of - that."

Merlin blinks several times, isn't quite sure what to make of life in general for a moment, and barely manages a stuttered, "I - oh," by way of reply.

Arthur nods, suddenly looking frightfully determined. "I'm going to take that as a yes."

Merlin stares vacantly, dazed. "Er - okay."

"Good, now can -"

And it is not Merlin's fault that he is the one to tilt forward and press their lips together a second time - it is entirely Arthur's. Arthur and his hurried words and hopeful pride and warm hands and boxed up sincerity and pompous everything, that makes Merlin sigh against his mouth and bring his own hands up to rest against Arthur's chest, fighting a smile as he untangles the fastening of the winter cloak around the prince's neck and lets it fall softly to the floor.

"You're a prat, you know," he says eventually.

"And you're a daft idiot," Arthur retorts. "Glad that's settled. Now lose the scarf - thing."

"Naturally, sire."

Yay! I dunno how big the Merlin fandom is on here, but... reviews are nice :)