Merlin sat up, his lower half covered in clothing, and stared at the dark wood of the door. He listened to the echoes of Arthur's footfalls as he strode down the hall for a moment, and when they faded completely, let out a huge, put-upon sigh. The room was a complete mess. Clothes and boots and other random odds and ends were strewn everywhere; on the dining table, the mirror, and even the posts of the bed he sat upon; this would take hours to sort out. Merlin smiled. For any other servant, that is.
He put his hands on his knees and looked sternly at the wardrobe. It did absolutely nothing for a moment, but then with a loud creak and squeal of hinges, flung its doors open wide. Clothing began to rustle across the floor and sail through the air as they rushed to fold themselves up, leap inside drawers, and hang themselves on hooks. After most of the litter was put neatly away and out of sight, Merlin allowed himself a small self-satisfied grin and turned his attention to the bundle of clothes in his lap. The outfit Arthur insisted that he wear to the masquerade banquet tonight. The grin quickly slid from his face.
What on Earth is Arthur thinking? Is he crazed? Merlin thought irritably, glancing back toward the closed door with another sigh. This had to be the most unabashedly nonsensical thing Arthur had ever asked of him; he was quite sure of it. Not only did Merlin run the extremely high risk of landing himself in the stocks for imitating a nobleman, but most certainly the odds of escaping retribution were not bettered by imitating a nobleman and proceeding to attend a banquet right under the King's nose. He would be recognized immediately. What precisely was Arthur's point?
He fingered the rich fabric thoughtfully a moment, considering... before shaking his head and chuckling to himself. I will not do this. It's ridiculous. The prince will just have to find another way to entertain himself this evening that doesn't include laughing at me. He gathered up the clothing and moved to put it away in the wardrobe as well, when something smooth and dark fell from the bundle in his arms and to the floor with a muffled clatter.
Merlin leaned over the bundle he held to stare down at what had fallen. It was a mask. A black one, with little silver grips where two soft, dark swaths of black fabric connected to either temple of the piece.
Merlin just continued to stare down at it for a moment, the mask obstinately staring back. "Well," he mumbled, depositing his load back onto Arthur's bed and bending down to pick the mask from the floor. The surface of the mask was smooth and the inside was layered with a fuzzy material that was ostentatiously pleasing to the touch. Curious as to how it would look, Merlin moved over to the mirror that stood near the window and stopped in front of it. "Could just…" he shrugged, lifting it to his face.
"Merlin."
He jumped, quickly dropping the hand holding the mask behind his back. "What?" He said loudly, turning around to face the door.
Arthur stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. Merlin knew immediately that he had lost ground in their argument. "You want to go, don't you?" Arthur asked slyly, shifting his weight from the door frame and striding over to stand next to him by the window. Merlin was about to protest that statement when Arthur cut in. "Well, you can't."
"…Why not?" Merlin looked at Arthur suspiciously. Arthur looked out the window toward the castle grounds.
"I thought about what you said earlier." He told the glass slowly. "And I will acknowledge that … perhaps I had not thought the situation through to its entirety. It would not bode well for my reputation if you were to be caught; but the consequences would be far worse for you. I will not have you risk it. " Arthur turned away, making his way back to the open door abruptly.
Merlin was surprised. It was a very rare thing indeed for a Pendragon to admit to fallibility, and Arthur had just done so openly. Merlin wasn't quite sure as to what he should say. He looked down at the mask he held in his hand, and then to the retreating back in front of him as Arthur crossed the room's threshold and turned to head down the hall. "Wait!"
Arthur stuck his head back into the frame of the doorway. "I haven't got the time, Merlin. As I said, I have obligations-"
"No, just wait a second!" Merlin clutched the mask in his hand tightly as he made his way to the door.
"Ordering me around, manservant?" Arthur chided, instantly uncooperative. He stepped away from the door, making to head back down the hall. Merlin reached out and grabbed him by the elbow.
"I'll do it." Merlin said with a smile. "I'll go with you. Tonight… that is."
Arthur raised his eyebrows at that. "No, you will not."
"Yes, I will."
"As I explained to you, Merlin, it was a silly notion; besides," he scoffed. "You would be spotted as a commoner immediately." Arthur told him dismissively, shaking his arm from Merlin's grasp. "You will not."
"Arthur, really. You spent the better part of this morning throwing your clothes about looking for an outfit to make me wear." Merlin crossed his arms, resolute. "It's decided. I'm coming."
Arthur stared at him a moment, taking in the commanding voice and willful look on his servant's face. He shrugged. "Alright." He said simply, and turning, continued down the hall.
Merlin stared after him a moment, before his face broke into a smile.
"Ah. And Merlin," Arthur stopped before turning a corner, looking over his shoulder at Merlin as he stood outside Arthur's doorway. Arthur grinned, a wide, triumphant grin that showed both his canines. "Meet me here in two hours." He said cheerfully, before disappearing around the turn and out of sight.
It wasn't until twelve minutes later, while helping Gaius sort and catalog a shelf of tonics back in their rooms, that Merlin realized he'd been played like a harp.
By Arthur, of all people. Good God.
