Time period: First series after Episode 2
Summary: Why does Arthur's horse keep changing colour and why is Merlin the only one who notices?
Note 1: Written because the horses change colour from scene to scene. Oh, show and your funny lack of continuity. Ha!
Note 2: I used wiki for the information on pixies. Apparently Grunhilda from 'The Changling' episode was a pixie but then they called her a fairy and it got very confusing. Pixies are mischievous, not malicious so that's what I'm going by.
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No credits have changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
The first time it happened, Merlin almost missed it.
He'd just got his first ever ride on a real horse so it was kind of understandable. Arthur insisted on taking him everywhere and that meant he needed to learn to ride. Why he had to go on a hunt when there was a perfectly good bunch of knights there to do Arthur's every bidding, he couldn't figure out at first. But when Arthur kept berating him the whole time, yelling at him to stay on the horse, sneering at his hunting skills, telling him he was the worst servant he'd ever had, it became obvious pretty quickly that tormenting Merlin seemed to be the order of the day. Actually tormenting Merlin was pretty much what Prince Prat did every day.
So he gave up, tried to ignore the constant insults and just stay on the damn horse.
Trouble was that Merlin had never ridden before.
Well, that's not exactly true. Old Man Simmons had had a horse once. He used it to plough his fields and once in a while, he'd let the kids of the village ride the old mare. But one winter had been especially cold and the horse had died. They feasted on her flesh for a good long while but to this day, Merlin always felt a bit sad about it. And when the spring came, Simmons bought an ox instead and there were no more rides.
So needless-to-say, Merlin wasn't paying that much attention when it happened. He was too busy trying not to fall off.
He turned his head, was about to say something to Arthur – he couldn't let the arrogant prat get away with all the insults, after all and… he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Arthur's horse had changed colour. And the tack, too. Like it was a different horse.
His magic went into high alert. It had to be some kind of trick. Perhaps a sorcerer had transformed himself to get to Arthur more easily – and how much easier would it be to attack Arthur when he was on riding him. He'd heard of such things, read about them in one of Gaius's musty books but to see it was something else.
He wanted to say something, let Arthur know somehow but he didn't dare. The sorcerer would know and Merlin was too far away to help Arthur at the moment.
But that was the strange part. Nothing happened.
It was as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Arthur reached down to pat the horse's neck – surely he must have noticed the change. But he didn't say anything, didn't panic or do anything at all other than continue to ride the transformed horse, like he didn't care or maybe he was too oblivious to it. That didn't make sense, either, though. Arthur might be unobservant about a lot of things but hunting was in his blood. Surely, he'd notice something that out of place.
It got worse. All of the knight's horses changed, too, in the blink of an eye, and the one Merlin was riding suddenly had browner skin and darker hair.
It was a band of sorcerers. It had to be.
He tried not to panic. Okay, okay, at least the horses didn't have swords but it was possible that they could transform again into something else – like a griffin or one of those slithery things that Gaius told him about, something with fangs and poisonous tails and claws. And Merlin wouldn't have time to…
Then he fell off his horse.
For a moment, he forgot about the sorcerer problem because he was kind of stunned and Arthur rode over to him and started laughing and pouring water on him as if that would make things better. Well, maybe it did for the prince because it made Merlin look even more ridiculous and that seemed to be Arthur's sole purpose in life.
He was about to snap back at him, yell at Arthur for being such a spoiled brat when Merlin realized that the horse, the horse that had just changed colour and could be about to attack him, was chewing on his jacket and it was all he could do not to scream and scamper away from the disguised sorcerer. Or beast or whatever.
So he had a problem or rather several problems.
He might be able to get them out of this mess if he just used his abilities but he'd have to do it in front of everyone including the prince and he was very attached to his head and would like to keep it, thank you very much. He didn't want to give the game away, certainly didn't want Arthur to find out that he was a sorcerer. So not knowing just what to do, he lay there on the cold, wet ground, hyperventilating and trying not to conjure up enough magic to fix things.
Of course the prat had to say something. Apparently, a terrified wet servant was just the thing to mock. "Where did you learn to ride? In a barn?"
Merlin's horse looked up at that, staring at Arthur for a moment. Merlin tensed, knowing that he'd do whatever it took to protect the idiot and if that meant blasting the beast, sorcerer, menace, so be it. But instead, with a quick snort and a toss of his mane, his horse went back to chewing on Merlin's jacket.
In a way, it was reassuring. It was very horsey behaviour and not at all what he expected. Now if he could just figure out what was going on, he might be able to keep Arthur from getting himself killed.
"Never learned how." Merlin pushed the soft snout aside, and trying to keep an eye on all the changing quite-possibly-dangerous magical creatures surrounding him while not panicking more than he already was, he stood up, brushing himself off. "Not everyone had a horse growing up, you know, but then again not everyone was trained from birth to be a prat."
"I am not a…." Arthur looked quite put out, his eyes narrowing. Apparently, he was used to ridiculing just about everyone else but getting insulted himself was another matter. "I should throw you in the stocks for your insolence."
Sometimes he had to admit that Arthur just brought out the worst in him. Destiny or not, the man could use a little humility and unfortunately, from what he'd seen of the court so far, no one else would push back. On the other hand, the prince could really kill him if he got mad enough – not that Merlin thought he would but one never knew with nobility.
"At least I wouldn't be on a horse." Merlin shot back, "And it wouldn't help because you'd still be a prat."
Arthur sputtering would normally have made him feel vindicated and dare he say it, happy to have got his own back but this was serious. He was surrounded by forces that he still didn't understand and worse, while he was arguing with the prince, Merlin's horse had shoved him forward a bit and began sniffing at his hair.
This wasn't good. Those large teeth were huge and too close to his neck. If the horse changed into something else, something more deadly, Merlin wouldn't stand a chance.
So he shoved the animal away, saying, "Would you stop!"
The horse looked a bit miffed but snorted, shook his mane again, ambled over to an apparently tempting piece of grass and began to munch. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief; he was safe for the moment.
"Since being around horses appears to be a punishment for my insolent servant, while we are hunting, he'll be in charge - of our horses." There was a snicker from some of the other knights but worse, Arthur was smirking, supercilious git that he was.
"Arthur, that…."
Raising his eyebrows, looking as if he were daring Merlin to protest just so he could make things worse for him, Arthur leaned forward and said mildly, "And before you say another word, Merlin, mucking out my stables isn't part of your customary duties but I'd be glad to change that, just for you."
"Fine." Merlin knew Arthur would go through with it, too but it wasn't enough to stop him from muttering under his breath, "Ass."
It was the wrong thing to say somehow. The air seemed to ripple and there was a tinkle of laughter and suddenly Arthur was riding the largest donkey that Merlin had ever seen, horse size but clearly still not a horse. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so potentially terrifying.
Scrambling back, Merlin squeaked, "No, it…."
"What?" Arthur turned around, clearly searching the area for danger. "What's wrong?"
But Merlin wasn't paying attention. The laughter, somewhere off in the woods, had sounded more like tiny bells than human and it was obvious that someone was watching. But at least that would mean that the horses weren't the problem. That it might be one magical being playing with them after all - instead of many.
Which made it a whole lot easier for Merlin.
"I just thought I saw you riding… a donkey." He knew it sounded crazy even to him but it kind of spilled out. Besides, he was curious. It was possible that whoever was behind this was really listening to what he had to say.
"A donkey?" Arthur sent him a scathing look, as if Merlin was either the most idiotic man he'd ever met or else trying to make him look like a fool. Either way, he wasn't happy. "A donkey."
Then his hand touching his head, Arthur made some weird flailery gesture that had a few of the knights snickering. It was lost on Merlin but then so many of Arthur's gestures were. But he wasn't finished just yet. "Clearly you rattled that idiot brain of yours when you fell. I'm on a horse, Merlin. A horse."
"I know it's supposed to be a horse but I thought… well it doesn't matter." When Arthur just continued to look at him as if he'd lost his mind, he shrugged. He needed to know if it had just been coincidence or it had been something more when he'd said 'ass' and the horse turned into one. He needed to know if it was serious or someone was playing with him. And if he looked like an idiot, it wouldn't be the first time.
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
"At least I didn't think it was a pink horse with braided ribbons in its hair and sparkling rainbows, too. Although riding an ass might make more sense for you."
While Arthur was sputtering, incensed with Merlin for suggesting that a prince would ever demean himself enough to ride a donkey of all things, the air shimmered again.
Arthur's horse was a glorious pink and the braided ribbons in its mane had rainbows and sparkles just like Merlin had said and there were bows and glitter and apparently he was the only one who could see it.
He tried not to laugh. It was really ridiculous to have Arthur berating him while the horse snorted and pranced and flicked his pink tail and its sparkly ribbons flashed in the light. The bows near the stallion's ears were flopping around and all that pink hair and blinding pink skin and Arthur didn't know a thing about it.
So that was that. Merlin wasn't dealing with an evil sorcerer bent on destruction but a trickster. Unless… the evil sorcerer had a sense of humour?
Either way, Merlin needed to find out and a horde of knights, with or without a prince hanging around berating or mocking him or piling on chore after chore, would not help him at all.
Arthur wasn't having it, though. "Do you really think you can insult me and get away with it?"
"Errr, no?" Oh, now he was in for it. How could he explain without sounding like an idiot? Or mentioning magic?
"Errr, no?" Arthur repeated, mocking him. Then he leaned down – past the sparkly bows – glaring at Merlin. "When we get back, mucking out the stables will be the least of your worries, Merlin."
"Thanks?" This destiny of his was going to kill him with chores. Better to try and placate Arthur before he'd have to clean the entire castle with a toothbrush. "Arthur, I wasn't really trying to… I hit my head when I fell. I'm not thinking clearly."
He rubbed fingers through his hair for good measure, to emphasize that he was still a bit muddled, just in case Arthur didn't believe him.
"You never are."
For a moment, he thought Arthur wasn't buying it. The prince was frowning at him for the longest time and then finally he nodded. "Very well. Since my idiotic servant isn't up to hunting – and would scare away the game anyway, he will remain here and set up camp." Sending his knights more incomprehensible signals, Arthur smiled, well it was more of a smirk because he was good at that but still it seemed friendly enough. "Men, be sure and give Merlin everything he needs."
He stood there, relieved that Arthur and his knights would be away so that he'd be alone and get a chance to find the source of the laughter and maybe the magic plaguing them all.
He hadn't expected to be bombarded with bedrolls.
As he batted them away, he could see that the others were laughing at him. There was a flash of concern on Arthur's face before he joined in, the prat, but at least they hadn't thrown anything heavy. This time.
Still snickering, loud enough for all the knights to hear, Arthur said, "Merlin, have everything ready by the time we get back or there will be hell to pay. Chamber-pots don't clean themselves, you know, and the pot boys could always use an extra pair of hands back at the castle." Another round of laughter from Arthur's friends and it spurred him on. "And try not to fall on your head while we're gone. Although I'm not sure we'd be able to see any difference if you did."
"Yes, sire," he said, already picking up the nearest bedrolls so that the horses wouldn't trample them. He didn't want to have to clean them on top of everything else. "I'll make sure and wait until your return before I do that, shall I?"
For a moment, Arthur just stared at him.
Merlin wasn't sure if the prince was angry with him for talking back although he did it all the time and Arthur should have been used to it by now or maybe he was just trying not to laugh at the idea of Merlin killing himself from sheer clumsiness. But he didn't start lecturing Merlin, just said, "Try not to do anything stupid."
Then he turned away, dismounting, the other knights following his lead, pulling off cross-bows and other gear to get ready for the hunt.
Merlin scooped up the rest of the bedrolls and piled them along one side and then when the knights were done getting their kits, slowly led the horses to the opposite side of the clearing where the grass was lush and green. He settled them down, began to prepare them for the long wait.
Arthur might think him incompetent, and he was if he'd had no experience with whatever it was he was expected to do but he was a fast learner. The horses, no matter what the prince might think, would be all right under his care.
Of course, he also had to keep an eye out for whatever mischievous force was out there, just waiting to pull their next stunt. He hoped the knights would leave soon. He was beginning to worry.
"You do realize that you attract trouble more than anyone I've ever known and that includes all of Camelot. I'm not sure I should leave you alone. You are likely to trip over your own feet and break something while I'm gone." Arthur was standing there, arms folded, his leathers a contrast to his horse's pink sparkle, the prince looking both dangerous and absurd.
Surprised, for a moment, Merlin didn't say anything. Arthur seemed almost worried about him. It was disconcerting. He was so used to the prince berating him constantly that he felt off-balance.
He knew they couldn't be friends; their status wouldn't allow it but he'd like to think that Arthur might grow to tolerate him eventually. And he knew that he liked the prince more than he should, considering how Arthur treated him. The prat was annoying and pigheaded and more than a bit inventive when it came to punishments but once in a while, he'd do something nice, especially when he thought no one would notice. Although he rarely showed any kindness toward Merlin.
"I'm…Arthur, I can look after myself." Merlin gave a little shrug, said, "I'll still be around for you to bully when you get back."
'I do not bully you. I point out ways for you to improve. Not that it's working all that well because most of the time you are a complete idiot. But sometimes you aren't totally incompetent." Arthur seemed at a loss for words, a first for him. "We'll return at dusk." He looked like he was going to say something else but then he turned, calling to his knights, grabbing one of the crossbows and walking away. His back was stiff as if he was trying not to look back. And he didn't.
It didn't take long before they were out of sight. Merlin could still hear the jingle of chainmail – how they expected to find game with so much clatter was beyond him, but the sounds were slowly fading.
When he was certain they wouldn't be able to hear him, he called out, "I'm alone. Show yourself."
Another trill of laughter and he could see a small, winged creature coming his way, hopping through the foliage from branch to flower to rustling green leaves as it flew closer. Almost human with bright hair flowing back, delicate features, a little larger than a Sidhe and flesh-coloured, wings glowing softly pink in the afternoon light. As she approached, Merlin, to his utter embarrassment, could see that she was naked but for a purple ribbon winding around her and trailing behind.
He'd seen her kind in Gaius's book of mythological creatures, who loved pranks and getting into mischief, who loved horses and trinkets and having fun.
A pixie and if the books and legends were to be believed, harmless.
Still wary, he watched as she flew toward him, setting down into the crook of the tree nearest his head. Surrounded by leaves, almost a throne of living green, as she sat there, she adjusted her purple ribbon tighter around her and shook out her hair to cover her pale limbs. She looked like she was getting ready for a long chat with friends, instead of with a confused and suspicious warlock. "You are bigger than I thought."
"You are smaller than I'd imagined." That's not the first thing he wanted to say but obviously he'd been around Arthur too long. "Emm, you changed the colour of the horses. Why?"
"It was you who wanted the pink horse and the sparkling rainbows. I thought you would be pleased." She put one delicate hand over her mouth but there was laughter there and her eyes were sparkling with mischief.
"That was…" Merlin wasn't having any of it. His arms folded, trying to look serious, he said, "I want to know why you are doing this. Are you with the Sidhe?"
The smile vanished and she frowned up at him. Tiny as she was, Merlin was under no illusion that there was power there. "No, not I. The Sidhe have their own agenda. They are but our distant cousins and less understanding of things." One sweep of her hand pointing into the forest and then she settled back, relaxing into her leafy seat. "I guard these woods."
Merlin could feel no evil from her but he had to be cautious. He'd been wrong before, with disastrous results. "We are just passing through. We mean you no harm."
"Emrys, we know you do not." She smiled, nodding toward him but then turned sombre. "However, your prince is another matter."
"Arthur's a good man," he said sharply.
His defence of the prince was almost instinctual. He knew that things were not always well between them; Arthur hurt him far too often, both physically and with his insults, but underneath it all, Merlin could sense that the potential for greatness was there. There, too, were compassion and a blinding drive to do the right thing for his people. It spoke of a kind heart that Arthur would try to hide all too often – not that he'd shown it to Merlin. But he'd watched him dealing with the less fortunate of the town and he wasn't like his father. At least not yet.
"He follows his father's lead in destruction. He will become another bloody tyrant if things do not change."
It was clear she had only seen the surface of things. It was possible that Arthur could turn into his father in time but even in a few months Merlin had known him, the prince had softened a bit and was less bullying of others. It hadn't stopped but Merlin could see the beginnings of change.
He shook his head. "The Great Dragon says that I'm meant to help Arthur become king."
"Another with his own agenda." Her eyes narrowed, then with more than a little disdain, she said, "The Dragon lives in darkness. Is it any wonder that he'd tell you anything to go free?"
Merlin knew he had much to learn, naïve, a peasant from a small village unused to grander things but this was disturbing. He'd thought the Dragon was willing to help him with his destiny. It had crossed his mind that the Dragon was manipulating him but he needed to find some purpose in his life and this was something that he could believe in. So he'd ignored his own misgivings and accepted everything he'd been told. And now she was telling him that it was all a lie.
"Then his talk of destiny was just to get me to free him?"
Her eyes seemed to soften at the sound of hurt in his voice. "No, you are destined to bring magic back to Camelot. How you do it depends on your choices."
He'd heard that often enough from the Dragon. He didn't need another lecture.
Needing to do something to bleed off his frustration, he started to gather up some of the loose rocks in the area to make a fire-pit. He knew that Arthur would insist on it being perfect and if it wasn't up to his exacting standards, he'd just pile on more chores when they got back to Camelot. And Merlin didn't need any more chores.
As he worked, clearing away a large spot down to bare earth, and stacking stone on stone around it, he said, "I'm trying. But Arthur treats me worse than his dogs. I'm not even sure he knows I exist except when he needs to bully someone. How am I supposed to help him with this great destiny if he won't listen?"
"And yet you call him a good man." Head cocked to one side, she seemed puzzled by it all.
"He's an honourable one... sometimes." Kneeling there, one rock in his hand, Merlin stared out into the forest where he'd last seen Arthur. "But no matter what I do, it's never good enough for him. I'm not sure I can get him to change enough to become that great king the Dragon keeps on about." He paused a moment, then he shifted back, looked up at her. There was misery in the back of his throat and the way the cold stone felt in his hand. "Sometimes I just want to go home."
From her nest of leaves, the pixie was gazing down at him, her eyes full of surprise. "Do you not see how he looks at you?" When Merlin shook his head, puzzled, she said firmly, "You have more influence than you know."
It was ridiculous, of course. Yes, Arthur looked at him, glared at him most of the time and then would start listing more chores or berate him endlessly for being the worse manservant he'd ever had. Certainly he'd not look on Merlin with friendship or any kind of fondness.
He gave a sharp snort and went back to the fire-pit, arranging more stones around it. Arthur was what he was and Merlin's futile attempts at friendship was just that – futile. "Yeah, I'll believe that when pigs fly."
"Sadly, there aren't any pigs here." For a moment, she sounded thoughtful, and then she laughed, clapping her hands in delight. "But there are other creatures I could use." She stood up, pointing toward the horses. As she did, her ribbon started to unwind and Merlin had to look away, his face burning. Really, the pixie had no shame at all.
"Would you like to see horses fly instead? I can do that, you know. With a wave of my hand."
That was a terrible idea. What if Arthur came back? He'd never be able to explain it away.
"No! I don't want to see horses fly or pigs or anything else. Haven't you caused enough problems?"
Merlin was worried. She seemed to like to make him feel off-balance and he had no idea of what she might do next. Mischievous, thinking nothing of consequences and clearly wanting to play with him or wind him up or something, he didn't know what to do about it or keep her from making things worse.
He snuck another peek in her direction. She was standing there, ribbon gracing her feet, her hair wild around her, luckily covering most of her but still she was pretty much naked. He had enough problems without her flying around distracting him like that.
Hastily he unwound his neckerchief and standing, handed it over to her. ""I.. I think your ribbon is slipping. Here, you might want to…."
She looked absolutely delighted, as if he'd given her something priceless. Winding it around her neck, making several tucks and pulls, she seemed to take the shapeless thing and turn it into a raggedy dress. The cloth was too big and it trailed behind but still it suited her. "Emrys, thank you for this. I will treasure it always."
Shaking his head, he said, "It's just a kerchief but I thought you… might be getting cold."
"Such kindness. If I had the power, I'd grant you three wishes." She shrugged, her hands lifting in regret. "But alas I cannot. I know that you are unhappy with things as they are but I can promise you that it will be all right in the end."
"Thank you… I think." He knelt down again, piling more stones around the fire-pit, making it as perfect as he could without magic. "I just wish that Arthur saw me for who I truly am, not some stupid servant that he can bully but someone he'd respect."
"Do you want him to know you are a sorcerer?" she said softly.
"He'd kill me if he knew." For a moment, a rock in his hand, he could almost feel the executioner's axe against his neck; the threat was always there, endless and unrelenting.
"Is that why you do things without magic?" She had settled back into her nest of leaves but she was playing with the kerchief's fringe, looking like a child with a new toy.
"Gaius says that I should do my chores without magic, that I'm not careful enough and that anyone could see me using it." It was a constant temptation but he knew that the old man was right. Arthur would think nothing of cutting off his head if he knew and there were eyes everywhere at court. Better to be safe than dead over something so idiotic.
Her voice was gentle as she said, "He does like you, your prince. You might be surprised."
"Could have fooled me." He wanted to believe her, so very much but there were too many times when Arthur had hit him or told him he was an idiot, beaten up on him with swords or mace, followed him around and pointed out all the things he'd done wrong. Not the actions of someone who cared.
"He likes you enough to change what he is. He wants to be your friend. But other influences may overwhelm him. Do not despair, Emrys. Trust your instincts and you will know what to do." She sounded more certain even than the Dragon and a lot kinder, too.
But it was too much. He didn't know what to believe when it came to Arthur: friend or bully, knight or buffoon, a great king in the making or a petty tyrant. But she'd opened his eyes a bit to the possibilities and that would have to do for now.
"Yes, but you can just fly away and laugh from a distance if he yells at you. I can't." When she just stared at him, her mouth quirking as if she were ready to laugh at him again, he shrugged. "Okay, okay, I'll accept that you think he likes me and that I might be a little bit fooled by all his shouting. I'll try and be more understanding then, shall I?"
"That is all I ask, young one." Nodding to him, a pleased look on her face, she said, "If you ever have need of us, come into the forest. I or my sisters will answer your call."
"Why? Why should you care what happens in Camelot or to me?"
With an indulgent smile and a shake of her head, she rose to her feet, her wings glistening in the afternoon light. She looked almost a queen despite the ragged neckerchief dress. "Albion will be united under Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king. He will usher in a new age of peace and all of us would prosper from it. But he'll need you to guide him along the way."
Launching herself into the air, she floated near his cheek, light as dandelion fluff upon the breeze. "Besides, we are your kin, Emrys. I am yours and you are mine."
There was nothing to say. All he could do was bow his head in acknowledgement and try not to look the fool doing it.
There were dimples in her cheeks and her eyes were dancing. "And now enough with solemn things. You could do with some cheering up." She began to circle him, chiming laughter in his ears. "I promise that Arthur and his knights are far from here at the moment. Let me show you how we play."
Merlin could hear Arthur coming from quite a distance: the clanging of mail against armour, the bawdy songs that seemed to paint the air with exuberance, the sound of snapped branches and heaviness being dragged through bushes and dead leaves.
Finishing up his chores, the camp all arranged, the fire crackling merrily, he walked a little ways toward the crowd. Arthur, of course, was at the head of it, grinning like a madman. Two of the other knights were half-dragging a deer carcass between them and the rest had a cache of rabbits and a couple of birds. A successful hunt.
That meant that Arthur would be in a good mood and less likely to berate him about incomprehensible infractions and things Merlin was pretty sure Arthur made up just because he could.
The prince came into the camp, laughing at something one of the other knights was saying and then spotted Merlin. Stopping, Arthur looked around: at the stone pit, at the neatly-arranged bedrolls, at the pile of wood waiting for them. The camp itself was perfection and Merlin knew it.
He'd used magic after all in the time since Arthur had been away. The pixie, Joan'owod, had seen to that. Her high spirits had been infectious and Merlin felt the better for it.
There were a few things still out of place. She'd loved to braid and had tried to tie up all the horse's manes into intricate knots. Merlin had been able to undo most of them by the time Arthur returned but not all. So, of course, the first thing Arthur spotted was the one thing Merlin was trying to hide.
"Really Merlin, braiding my horse's mane?" Arthur was already rolling his eyes and gesturing to the other knights to look at his handiwork, or rather the pixie's handiwork. "You are such a girl." A couple of them snickered at Merlin's discomfort.
He could feel his shoulders sagging, disappointment settling into his chest. Merlin said flatly, "I would think that you would be pleased, sire. Knotting is a very useful thing for tying up boats and horses and prats who should know better."
Arthur looked sharply at him, obviously trying to figure out if he'd just been insulted or not. Merlin would have thought the 'prat' comment would earn him some time in the stocks when they returned to Camelot but instead, Arthur just said, "In that case, we'll see how well your knotting skills are then. Hang up the carcasses, then start dinner. I see that the camp is set up… adequately this time but next time I expect better from you."
So much for Arthur liking him.
It was obvious that the pixie, exuberant, imaginative and knowledgeable about many things, had not been a good judge of character. Arthur was a prat, would always be a prat. Sometimes Merlin despaired of the idiot ever becoming a good king, never mind a great one.
Sighing, he turned away, started walking down toward where the carcasses had been dumped. He thought Arthur would settle in with his knights around the fire and laugh at him from a distance but instead, the prince followed him. Merlin glanced at him, for a moment wondering why Arthur was there, and then gave up trying. He'd know soon enough when Arthur decided to start berating him again or finding fault. He always found fault.
"Merlin, where is that grotty neckerchief of yours?"
He hadn't really been paying attention to Arthur's silences; he'd been trying to come up with a way to get all the new chores done and finished before dark without magic. He knew he'd really have to hurry and he half-expected to be assigned more work before he was done. So he wasn't thinking about it when he said, "I gave it to Joan'owod. She liked it."
"You know you aren't allowed to entertain girls in camp when you are working." Hands on hips, frowning at him, Arthur sounded almost affronted.
Obviously, Merlin wasn't allowed a life, either. He snapped back, "She's not a girl. She's a pixie."
"Pixie!" Arthur gave out a laugh and then he started to frown when Merlin glowered at him. "Have you tripped and hit your head again?"
"What? No… I didn't?"
He was trying to think of a way out of the slip-up when shaking his head in exasperation, Arthur's grabbed at Merlin's jacket, pulled him close and then using his other hand, swept across the back of Merlin's head. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they felt his skull.
When Arthur finally let go, he stepped back, rolling his eyes again – he did that a lot around Merlin, and said, "Not much of a lump there. Not concussed then. Just naturally a fool."
Merlin started to protest but thought better of it. What could he say anyway? That a pixie told him that Arthur would be the once and future king? That would go over so very well.
"At least I didn't choose to be a prat."
Arthur's good mood had vanished. "You can't keep calling me that, you idiot. My father would have you flogged if he heard you." But he wasn't finished yet. "You could just tell me that you lost the stupid neckerchief. Pixies, indeed. Next thing you'll be spinning stories about how you talk to those rats you can't seem to get rid of in my chambers or the brook babbling at you."
"Fine. I lost it in the woods. And I certainly won't be telling you about how the pixies seem to think you are nice enough when clearly you aren't." The idea that he wasn't believed, even though he'd not likely believe himself either, just grated on him. Arthur was a prat and he'd be damned if he'd tell him anything ever again.
"Well, no need to get tetchy about it. It was ugly anyway."
"Not everyone can afford to buy beautiful things, you know." Arthur was frowning at him as if he couldn't understand what Merlin was talking about. "It was good enough for me and it was good enough to give to a pixie queen. Now if you would allow me to do my chores, sire, I'll get back to work."
"Merlin, wait." Arthur's hand was onto Merlin's shoulder again, holding him in place. He looked worried. "Are you telling me you actually saw a pixie? Because if you did, it's a magical creature and dangerous. We will need to hunt it down."
Scowling, unhappy that the first thing Arthur thought of was murder, Merlin said, "She was sweet and funny and all you can think about is killing her? Some great king you'll be then."
Arthur jerked back, looking almost dumbfounded and then he seemed to collect himself. "Has she bewitched you?"
"No, just talked to me like a friend. Something you know nothing about apparently." Merlin couldn't keep the unhappiness out of his voice.
It must have got through to Arthur. Abruptly, he let Merlin go, folding his arms in that imperious way of his. If Merlin didn't know better, he would have said that Arthur was unhappy, too. It was fleeting, though, his eyes bruised with it and then as he lifted his chin, all princely and privileged, the look disappeared.
"Princes can't be friends with a servant," Arthur said flatly.
"Yeah, you've made that perfectly clear," Merlin shot back, stung by it all.
He knew he should just shut up but somehow, between the pixie's encouragement and this painful confrontation, he just couldn't. "I thought that…. Never mind. I was an idiot for even thinking it."
A quick glance over his shoulder toward where the knights were sitting, talking among themselves, and Arthur turned back, staring at Merlin. "Do you think my father would allow such a familiarity between the classes? Friendship between a prince and his manservant? Don't be ridiculous. He'd flog you first and banish you from Camelot or, if you talked back which, knowing you, is highly likely, he'd cut off your head." There was something in his eyes again: exasperation, worry, resignation, the smallest hint of longing, anger, too. "You really are an idiot."
"Oh."
And it finally hit Merlin like a rock or some kind of blinding light. Arthur's true colours were hidden beneath the surface of his father's expectations and fear for anyone he might favour. The pixie had been right after all. Arthur liked him, wanted to be friends but there was too much at stake to risk it.
"Now if you would just point me in the direction of where you last saw the pixie, I'll go take care of it." His hand fingering the sword at his hip, Arthur was back to his normal prattish self.
Merlin tried not to smile. He knew Arthur wouldn't appreciate it and besides, he did want to protect her. So of course, he lied, saying, "Ummm, she left. Into the woods a while ago. I'm sure she's long gone."
It was obvious that Arthur didn't believe him but that was fine, too. Joan'owod was out of Arthur's reach and that was good enough for Merlin.
"Very well but if you see her again, I want to know about it. Until then, get back to work, you lazy go-for-nothing. Or I'll add cleaning the palace courtyard to your chores. It hasn't been properly done in months." His voice carried through the clearing and when he was done berating Merlin, he turned away, his hands raised in exasperation and made his way over to his knights.
"Of course, sire," Merlin said softly, watching him go.
"Just telling off my servant. I don't know why I put up with him. If it wasn't for my father, I'd have sacked him long ago." Arthur was complaining again, loudly enough for Merlin to hear. But it didn't bother him nor did the murmurs of agreement from the other men.
They were both hiding after all. Merlin hid his magic every day, fearing death by axe or fire; Arthur hid behind a prat's façade, sacrificing friendship for fear of not meeting his father's expectations. Hiding and hoping that one day, they wouldn't have to hide any more.
Merlin turned away, started working on the carcasses. It had been a good day after all and one he wouldn't soon forget.
And the thought of chiming laughter, even now fading into memory, just made him smile.
The end.