Hey hey hey, Clasch is back (finally). Yay for more Merthur smut. It only took me six months to write this, so that's honestly an improvement. College is busy. This is part one of my quest to write a Merthur scene into every episode. Stay tuned.
Merlin and its characters do not belong to me. Believe me, it would have ended vastly differently and been far more gay.
Anyway, enjoy my friends!
"Where's the target?" an arrogant voice drawled as Merlin stepped, blinking, into the bright sunshine of the courtyard.
"There, sir," came the tentative reply.
"It's into the sun."
Merlin matched the arrogant voice to one of the most handsome men he had ever seen: carelessly windswept golden hair framing a face lit up by the sun and laughter. His broad shoulders and the leanly muscled chest held upright indicated strength and status.
"But—it's not that bright," answered the manservant or squire or punching bag, Merlin couldn't tell which.
"Bit like you, then!" the blond man sneered, inspiring a chorus of laughter among the other good-looking, muscular men.
"I'll put the target at the other end, shall I, sir?" Punching Bag glanced at his feet, sounding resigned. With a nod from the blond man, he turned and hefted the target over his shoulder, heading for the opposite end of the courtyard.
Merlin saw the blond man turn to the group and mutter something to them. "This'll teach him." The blond man stepped back, whipping a dagger from a sheath on his hip and throwing it at the retreating target, striking the center circle with practiced precision. The handsome group laughed again, apparently agreeing with the blond man's teaching methods.
Punching Bag must have felt the dagger hit the target on his back because his face reappeared over its rim, startled. "Hey, hang on!"
"Don't stop," the blond man jeered.
Nervously, Punching Bag readjusted his grip on the target and continued a few more steps into the shade. "Here?" he asked.
An indulgent smile spread across the blond man's face as he reared back and let loose another knife. Punching Bag realized his mistake, wrenching the target up over his head the split second before the blade embedded itself in what would have been his forehead.
"Come on!" the blond man taunted, amusement coloring his voice. "Run!" He threw another dagger, the whole lot of them laughing now. "We want some moving target practice."
Blade after blade struck the target until Punching Bag dropped it and it rolled to a stop at Merlin's feet. On his hands and knees, Punching Bag looked apprehensively up at Merlin. Not knowing when he had decided to step in, Merlin was suddenly speaking. "Hey," he started, addressing the blond man who had turned to receive the appreciation of his peers. "Come on, that's enough."
The blond man turned to face Merlin, the wide grin fading from his handsome face.
Merlin tried a smile in return, but the man took a step forward with an indignant, "What?"
"You've had your fun my friend," Merlin replied. Unfortunately, it appeared this man's only good qualities were physical. Merlin chanced a quick look up and down the blond man's body, memorizing the visible bare skin for some time later when he could be alone.
Punching Bag had finally gotten a hold on the target and was pulling it away from Merlin as the blond man swaggered still closer. "Do I know you?" he asked, a smile, wry though it was, gracing his face once again.
"Er—I'm Merlin," Merlin answered, offering his hand, unprepared for the blond man's quick reply.
"So I don't know you." He stopped an arm's length away from Merlin without making a move to take the proffered hand.
Merlin dropped his hand to his side, noticing Punching Bag had abandoned the target and stood up. "No," he said, shaking his head.
"Yet you called me friend." The blond man spoke slowly as if he were trying the words out for the first time.
"That was my mistake," Merlin retorted, surprised and annoyed by the blond man's rudeness. He thought bitterly of his actual friends, well friend, in Ealdor and his magic twisted painfully in his gut. An eighth of this man's wealth could feed the entire village for a year. Merlin could see it in the wrinkle between his eyebrows, the cock of his head as he puzzled over Merlin's bluntness.
"Yes, I think so." The blond man smiled again, amusement playing in his eyes like he knew something Merlin did not.
"Yeah," Merlin countered. "I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass." His ears burned but the blond man gave a breathy laugh and looked at the ground. Feeling it was safe to get on with his errands now, Merlin stepped away, eyeing the other people in the courtyard. They all stared back at him with wide eyes, quickly looking away when they noticed he was observing them.
"Or I one who could be so stupid," the blond man said and Merlin heard the metallic clink of his armor as he drew near again.
Merlin turned to face the approaching man. Merlin's annoyance with him had done nothing to affect his appreciation for the blond man's looks. He stole one more glance at the strong chin and startlingly blue eyes, the smooth skin of an aristocratic neck and the golden hairs peeking out from the opening of his tunic, the legs clearly muscled through his trousers and the curve of his hip disappearing under his hem before meeting the arrogant stare. His magic uncurled, lazily reaching out to the handsome man. There was something about him that drew Merlin in, despite Merlin's better judgement.
"Tell me, Merlin." The blond man paused, sweeping his own gaze over Merlin's big ears and gangly limbs poking out from ill-fitting garments. "Do you know how to walk on your knees?"
Merlin swallowed, unbidden images flooding his mind of himself doing just that, approaching a far less-clothed blond man. "No," he replied shortly, willing his voice not to shake.
"Would you like me to help you?" The blond man's eyes flashed.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Merlin said rather breathlessly. The blond man was quite close to him and still approaching, almost predatorily.
The blond man suddenly laughed and that wide smile reappeared. "Why? What are you gonna do to me?"
Yet more flashes of the blond man's hands fisted in Merlin's hair, a cry forming on his lips; the blond man's back arching into Merlin's touch, face down on some fine bed; the blond man flushed and breathless while Merlin traced the sculpted body with his fingertips. Every image that raced through his mind pleased his magic, warmth rising in his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
Merlin swallowed again. "You have no idea."
With another laugh, the blond man stepped back. "Be my guest! Come on!" He opened his arms, taunting Merlin when he did not make a move. "Come on. Come on."
The punch did not land. The blond man had Merlin's arm twisted behind his back far before there would have been contact with that strong jaw. Merlin grunted, both uncomfortable and very aware of his proximity to the blond man's hips. His magic, satisfied with the closeness, settled in his belly, almost purring. It was strange. Merlin's magic had never reacted so strongly to anyone before.
"I'll have you thrown in jail for that," the blond man said, breath hitting Merlin's ear.
"Well who do you think you are, the king?" Merlin snapped, struggling to look at his captor's arrogant, handsome face.
"No, I'm his son. Arthur."
So that was the something Merlin did not know.
Merlin strode into the Lower Town, mulling over the strange straw doll and bound book he had seen in Lady Helen's chambers. Something was going on, he could feel it, but he had no inkling as to what it could be. Merlin had felt powerful magic in that room, but twisted, misshapen magic made of what? Anger? Despair? His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Arthur and his hangers-on. Merlin brushed by, hoping he would not be noticed. He did not fancy another night in the cells and was sure he still smelled vaguely of tomatoes.
"How's your knee-walking coming along?" Arthur drawled, addressing Merlin with the same tone as he had Punching Bag.
Merlin kept walking, pressing his lips together to contain a retort.
"Oh, don't run away," Arthur continued. Merlin could hear his jeering smile.
Merlin stopped and took a deep breath. "From you?"
"Thank God," Arthur said. "I thought you were deaf as well as dumb."
The calming breath did not work. "Look, I've told you you're an ass," Merlin began, turning on his heel to face Arthur. "I just didn't realize you were a royal one."
Arthur let out a puff of air and regarded the tip of his boot.
Exhilarated by his small victory, Merlin spoke again without meaning to. "What are you going to do? You've got your daddy's men to protect you?"
Arthur laughed in two short bursts. "I could take you apart with one blow."
"I could take you apart with less than that," Merlin replied, voice low, intentions plain. The images from before burned in his mind once more: Arthur splayed in his royal chambers wearing only a crown, chest heaving; Arthur, back against an unlocked door, eyes screwed shut and biting his lip; Arthur in Merlin's tiny room, practicing his knee-walking.
"Are you sure?"
Merlin tore off his baggy jacket, magic curling around his fingertips, unable to stand Arthur's condescending tone a moment longer. Arthur's merry, haughty laugh rang in his ears as he fumbled with the flail Arthur tossed him.
"Here you go, big man. Come on, then." Arthur whipped his own weapon in practiced, deadly circles. "I warn you: I've been trained to kill since birth."
"Wow," Merlin nodded. "And how long have you been training to be a prat?"
Arthur allowed another breath of a laugh. "You can't address me like that."
Heart pounding, Merlin mirrored the smile on Arthur's face, leaning forward, but meeting Arthur's steady gaze. "Sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?"
Merlin barely ducked the blow.
"What could you have possibly done now?" Gaius shouted, rapping on Merlin's door and jerking it open.
Merlin, startled at the surprise entrance, lurched to a sitting position and grunting at the sudden pain in his shoulder. "What d'you mean?" he asked indignantly.
"You haven't left since you got back from your joust have you?" Gaius looked suspiciously at him, raising an eyebrow.
"No, of course not," Merlin insisted. "You told me to stop causing trouble. I've been here all afternoon."
"Well you've been summoned. By Prince Arthur."
Surprised, Merlin swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood, stretching his injured arm. "I suppose I'd better get a move on, then. Wouldn't want to keep his highness waiting," Merlin jested.
Gaius smacked him across the back of his head. "Do you want to spend another day in the stocks, Merlin?"
Laughing quietly and shaking his head, Merlin dodged another blow and retreated, heading in the direction of Arthur's chambers. What could Arthur possibly want with him? Merlin certainly knew what he wanted with Arthur.
Arthur leaned against his chamber door, head thrown back, trousers pooled around his ankles. He sighed as Merlin's fist finally closed around him. Merlin squeezed gently, but did not move. "Is this to your liking, my lord?"
"For God's sake, Merlin, get a move on," Arthur muttered through gritted teeth, bucking his hips slightly.
Merlin laughed and stroked once, other hand tracing the soft skin of Arthur's bare thigh.
"Merlin," Arthur grunted heatedly and covered Merlin's hand with his own, trying to force cooperation.
Merlin allowed Arthur to guide his hand for a few moments before tutting and letting go. "Now, sire, if you would like to take care of yourself you are welcome to do so."
"Don't tease, Merlin. Get on with it!" Arthur insisted, voice cracking with frustration as Merlin squeezed his hips, fingers playing along the curve of his arse.
Straightening up, Merlin brushed a lock of sweaty hair from Arthur's forehead and traced his cheek, forefinger catching on his plump bottom lip. Merlin sighed happily when Arthur trapped the finger between his teeth. Merlin's other hand slid up to stroke Arthur's neck before grabbing a fistful of golden hair. Arthur thrust against Merlin's clothed thigh in shock, a sharp breath escaping him. Finger extricated from Arthur's mouth, Merlin held Arthur firmly against the door with one hand, the other maintaining his grip on Arthur's hair. He stepped closer, nudging Arthur's knees open with one of his own.
Arthur grunted as the rough fabric of Merlin's trousers scraped against him and again when he felt Merlin's, albeit clothed, arousal rub his thigh. Merlin leaned close to Arthur's ear. "And this? Is this acceptable?" Merlin drew out the words, mindful of Arthur trembling underneath him.
"Ye-yes," Arthur stammered, barely finishing the word before crying out as Merlin pressed his open mouth to the column of Arthur's throat, nibbling at the soft skin there, and finding a slow rhythm for grinding his hips into Arthur's.
Arthur, restrained, could no longer contain the noises Merlin stole from his lips. He attempted to rut against the marvelous friction.
Merlin smiled against Arthur's neck at the prince's babbling, moving his hips faster for both their sakes.
"Mer-, yes, please, Merlin," Arthur panted.
"Hush, sire. We wouldn't want to be discovered now, would we?" Merlin teased, breathless himself.
Arthur moaned, louder than ever, and stiffened against Merlin, shuddering and gasping for breath…
Merlin reached Arthur's chambers more than a little aroused. He sighed, glancing at the bulge in his trousers. "Calm down, Merlin. There's nothing exciting about being thrown in the stocks," Merlin muttered under his breath. Steeling himself, he knocked lightly on the door.
"Enter," Arthur said from within.
Merlin pushed the door open and stepped into the prince's chambers. He closed the door softly behind him, then turned to face Arthur, clasping his hands in front of himself. He had noticed this gesture was considered a sign of respect and appreciated the concealment. Arthur was absorbed in the roll of parchment in front of him, apparently taking no notice of Merlin's entrance. Merlin waited a moment, rocking back on his heels, and cleared his throat. "Ah—sire?" Merlin flushed at the reference to his fantasy.
Arthur glanced up from the parchment looking mildly surprised. "It's 'sire' now, is it, Merlin?" Arthur teased.
Merlin cleared his throat once again. "I was summoned," he said after a long moment.
"Yes," Arthur agreed amiably, reaching for a quill and scribbling something in the margins of the parchment. "You were."
Merlin, still trying to banish the images of Arthur, head thrown back, groaning and twitching, pinned against the very door through which Merlin had just entered, did not know what to say. He settled on: "Ah—why was I summoned?"
Arthur took great care in putting away his quill and rolling up the scroll before resting his elbows on the table, hands folded. He gazed at Merlin, expression inscrutable. "Don't hang about in the doorway, Merlin. Come," he beckoned.
Merlin's ears burned, the conclusion of his fantasy replaying in his mind's eye, but he did as he was told, hands clasped even more tightly in front of himself. The added pressure was not unpleasant.
Merlin, trying not to stare at the handsome man who was somehow haloed in golden sunlight, eyed the prince's messy chambers. It seemed Arthur was in the habit of throwing around his possessions. Or a windstorm had blown through. Or Arthur had fought off a group of Saxons in the room.
"I'd not run into you, let alone seen you around the castle, before you so rudely interrupted my training session. No subject of mine is stupid enough to not recognize their prince within the city walls, so you must be newly arrived, are you not?" Arthur asked finally, breaking the silence.
Merlin was more surprised at Arthur's keen observation than his careless insult. Perhaps the prince was not as dense as he seemed. "Yes," he replied. "On Wednesday from Ealdor."
Arthur quirked an eyebrow.
"Er—sire," Merlin added hastily.
Arthur laughed then, a smile breaking across his face like the dawn. "I only wondered what a villager of Cenred's was doing in Camelot."
"Oh." Embarrassed and still a little aroused, Merlin shifted between his feet, wary of meeting the prince's eye. The unexpected bright smile of the prince had awakened his magic, once again curled in his belly and making tiny details about the prince's face far too obvious for Merlin's liking. He had no reason to notice that Arthur's smile rose ever so slightly higher on one side and his blue eyes were flecked with gold.
"There's something about you," Arthur said, echoing his earlier sentiment from the end of their disastrous duel. He inclined his head, regarding Merlin with a piercing stare.
Feeling exposed down to his very soul, Merlin mumbled, "There's nothing special about me, sire."
"We both know that's not quite true, Merlin," the prince said seriously.
Merlin's heart leapt into his throat, magic curdling in his gut. Arthur had seen him using magic during the duel. But then why wasn't Merlin already locked in the dungeons waiting for the pyre? "Wh-what do you mean?" Merlin stammered.
"You're e-special-ly rude and idiotic." Arthur smiled again, blue eyes twinkling with laughter.
Merlin bristled, his magic twisting into a tight ball. He knew now that Arthur jested, but still.
"Come now, Merlin. We wouldn't want another incident like this afternoon." Arthur stood then and smoothed his tunic.
Merlin swallowed, following Arthur's hands down to his sides. He couldn't decide what to think about the handsome man before him. He was inexplicably drawn to the man, or at least his magic was, why? Arthur was arrogant and princely, big-headed and stubborn, but gods Arthur was beautiful. Merlin had never seen a man so beautiful. He longed to brush the flyaway golden hairs from Arthur's forehead as Arthur gazed up at him from between his legs, scratch the smooth skin of Arthur's back as Arthur moved against him, face buried in his rich coverlet, lap at the sticky release on Arthur's sweaty chest as Arthur gasped for breath, sprawled lazily in his desk chair.
His ears burned and his magic uncoiled, melting into his bones at the images playing in his mind's eye and he clenched the hands in front of his groin more tightly.
Arthur stepped toward Merlin and clapped him heartily on the shoulder. "I summoned you to make sure you understand, Merlin. You wouldn't want another incident like this afternoon. Unless of course you enjoyed your night in the cells."
Merlin didn't hear him. Gaius's draught for the pain had nearly worn off and Arthur was strong. Pain blossomed across the injured shoulder and Merlin breathed in sharply, gritting his teeth.
"Merlin, I just told you—What's the matter?" Apparently ever-sharp, Arthur noticed that Merlin's expression was pained rather than irritated.
"Nothing, it's nothing—" Merlin said, but Arthur was already steering him to the table and forcing him to lean against it.
"Your shoulder, right? You fell on it this afternoon." Arthur crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought Gaius had seen to it by now."
Arthur was full of surprises, Merlin noted. "He gave me a draught for the pain, but it must have worn off."
"Well then, shirt off. Let me have a look," Arthur told him.
"I—What? No, I—I can just get anoth—" Merlin protested, but Arthur cut him off.
"Shirt off, Merlin. The draught will do nothing to heal the shoulder if there is something more seriously wrong with it."
"I'm sure Gaius would have noticed if—" Merlin began. An obstinate look from Arthur silenced him and he sighed and tugged at the laces of his tunic. Blushing, Merlin pulled the shirt over his head, extracting his right arm from the sleeve carefully.
Arthur bade him to turn around, which Merlin did after only the slightest hesitation. He hung his head, ears burning, and stared at the grainy surface of the table, clutching his shirt in front of him. Strong fingers gently prodded his shoulder.
"It isn't broken or dislocated," Arthur said, feeling around the ridges of Merlin's shoulder blade. "Roll your shoulder back."
Merlin complied, trying not to notice Arthur's breath on the back of his neck.
"And forward."
Arthur seemed to be satisfied with his examination and Merlin felt the warm fingertips leave his shoulder. He took this as his cue to turn around, hugging his tunic to his bare chest.
And Arthur kissed him.
Shocked, Merlin dropped the shirt he was holding, but he quickly rallied, curling his arms around the prince's waist to pull him closer. Everything about Arthur was hot: the heat radiating off his back through his tunic, the warm, smooth lips moving against Merlin's, the fiery look in his eyes when he pulled away. Merlin could feel joy inflating in his magic, too much joy for the man he had met only a few days ago.
"I saw you looking at me," Arthur said in a low voice, leaning close to Merlin's ear. He caught the lobe between his teeth ever so gently and released it with a kiss. "Perhaps if your every thought was not written plainly on your face..."
Merlin, who had swallowed sharply and held his breath at the feeling of Arthur's teeth on his ear, scoffed at that. "Everyone was looking at you."
Arthur laughed into the curve of Merlin's neck, pressing a searing kiss onto his shoulder. "Naturally. But only you were feasting your eyes."
Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur removed himself from Merlin's embrace and pulled off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. The golden hairs Merlin had managed to spot before dusted the prince's broad chest, darker on his stomach.
But Merlin did not have time to feast on the handsome scene before him because Arthur was on him again, strong hands gripping his narrow hips and hot mouth seeking his own. Merlin settled into the shorter man's arms, savoring the taste of the prince. He hardly noticed his arousal returning until Arthur shifted and suddenly there was something hard against his leg and he was pressed against a muscled thigh.
Arthur groaned into Merlin's mouth at the unexpected contact. He kissed Merlin with renewed vigor, lips parting, slick tongue emerging.
And Arthur had picked Merlin up and deposited him on the edge of the table behind him. Merlin hooked his legs around Arthur's back, his arms around Arthur's neck, pulling him closer. He slid his fingers into Arthur's hair, curling them into the silky strands.
Arthur, securely nestled between Merlin's legs, ran his hands up Merlin's naked back. Blunt fingernails scraped at Merlin's neck where the knot of his handkerchief normally rested.
It was Merlin who moved away first, a little short of breath, but grinning broadly. He unhooked his ankles and slid off the table, accidentally landing on Arthur's foot.
"Oi!" Arthur chided, but Merlin's hands had untangled themselves from Arthur's hair and traced down the strong muscles of his chest.
Merlin was absolutely enjoying the heated skin beneath his fingers, exploring the broad expanse carefully, for surely he was dreaming, suffering from a heavy blow to the head.
"Get on with it," Arthur interrupted, attaching his mouth to the sensitive skin under Merlin's ear.
Merlin groaned at the combination of his words and his tongue. Arthur must be reading his mind, plucking phrases from his fantasy self with ease. Merlin wasted no more time, suddenly desperate for the delicious rub of Arthur against himself, the choked groans he resolved to steal from the prince's lips, the slick heat that Merlin would wrench from him.
Merlin had difficulty with the ties of the prince's breeches because Arthur had chosen that moment to nip at Merlin's ear again, worrying the patch of skin between his teeth.
Without even realizing, his eyes flashed golden, magic reaching from his fingertips, and the ties came loose. Merlin's heart beat wildly in his thin chest, but Arthur had his face buried in Merlin's neck, far too busy to notice the treasonous gold in Merlin's eyes. Anxious to move past his slip up, Merlin untied his own breeches with shaking fingers.
Arthur kissed his way up Merlin's jaw and chin and captured Merlin's mouth with his own as Merlin tugged their trousers away and then Arthur's hot, hard flesh was pressed against his.
Arthur gasped into Merlin's mouth, breaking away from the kiss. He rested his forehead against Merlin's for just a moment, gazing down at the erotic sight of their cocks nestled between them.
They must look a spectacle, prince and commoner pressed together with their breeches around their ankles, flushed and sweaty, lips plump, a bruise forming on Merlin's neck. Yet, there was something so undeniably right, that Merlin couldn't help but cry out quietly, rolling his hips into Arthur, who threaded his fingers into Merlin's short hair and glanced expectantly up at Merlin.
More than happy to oblige, Merlin met the prince's eye as he spat into his palm and reached between them.
At that, Arthur groaned and threw his head back. "Filthy."
Merlin laughed breathlessly, wrapping his now slick hand around the two of them. Arousal and magic coursed through his veins. He felt as if he was on fire; he must be on fire.
The pair moved together urgently, thrusting into Merlin's hand, relishing in the drag of their skin against each other. Arthur kissed Merlin again, licking into his mouth, claiming him.
Merlin gasped around Arthur's tongue. He could feel himself rushing toward that glorious precipice. "Sire," he cried, breaking away from the kiss and burying his face in Arthur's neck.
Arthur let out a low, strangled noise and stiffened against Merlin. "Mer—" he started, but finished with a groan, pulsing in Merlin's hand.
Merlin screwed his eyes shut against the betraying flash of gold that accompanied his release. He shuddered against the prince, striping his stomach. His magic had flared as he had gone over the edge, a blinding flash of power, strong as a clap of thunder, a crashing wave in a stormy sea. Merlin could have stood in the prince's arms, arousal ebbing away, release drying on his stomach for hours, forever.
But Arthur broke away abruptly and Merlin fell against the table behind him.
Arthur pulled his trousers up, tucking himself into them. He did not seem to be able to meet Merlin's relaxed gaze.
Merlin's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as Arthur strode to a basin, filled it with a water jug, and dabbed a damp cloth at his stomach. He opened his mouth to speak, still shaky.
Arthur spoke with his back to Merlin. "Ah. Speak of this to no one. You are dismissed."
Merlin blanched. He wrenched his breeches up and tugged his tunic over his head, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. "Glad to be of service, my lord," he said with as much unpleasantness as he could muster and stormed out of the room. He did not see Arthur's knuckles whiten around the edge of the table that held the washbasin or hear the small, sad sigh as the heavy door slammed behind him.
The nerve of him! Merlin fumed as he stalked down the corridor and down the many stairs back to Gaius's chambers. Gods save us when he becomes king. Merlin rubbed angrily at the tender spot on his neck that Arthur had bitten. And that'll bruise.
Without a word to Gaius, Merlin stalked to his room and shut the door behind him, falling onto his small bed, and forcing himself to breathe evenly until he fell asleep.
It all happened so quickly: the fatal song, the dropped chandelier, the dagger. Merlin acted without thinking, especially not about their tryst or the dragon's words of destiny.
He felt the eyes of the court upon him, Arthur's eyes especially, but Merlin stood still, not meeting anyone's eyes. He shifted between feet, sure he was discovered and he would burn next.
"You saved my boy's life," Uther said, composed surprise in his voice.
"Er—well," Merlin stammered, but Uther interrupted him. Merlin's gaze flicked to Arthur finally, who stared at him, entirely astonished.
"No, don't be so modest. You shall be rewarded."
Merlin glanced at his feet again, unsure of what to do. "No, honestly—you don't have to, your highness."
"Absolutely. This merits something quite special." Uther had obviously already made up his mind.
Merlin shrugged, imagining a small sum of gold. "Well—"
"You shall be awarded a position in the royal household. You shall be Prince Arthur's manservant."
And Uther swept away regally, oblivious to the shared look of horror between Merlin, who dug his nails into his palms behind his back, and Arthur who protested, "Father!"
But there was no more to be said. The court stood, applauding, while the two men tried to glance at the other while they weren't looking.
"Remember what I said before, Merlin: Speak of it to no one," Arthur said through gritted teeth.
"Of course, my lord."
But as the door of Arthur's chambers closed firmly behind them, he was on him again.