Chapter the Second
You hear that? That's the sound of my codpiece expanding.
The next morning, Dom did not find his little brother in the best mood. He'd spent last night screaming and swearing even more than usual, and now he was furious with Dom and Eames and himself. Dom was a douchebag, that much was a given, but Eames had just showed up expecting Arthur to welcome him with open arms (and legs) and Arthur had just gone along with it. Dom did have a point – people were always trying to use him. He was still a fucking douchebag, though.
"I fucking hate you!"
"Arthur, I think you're overreacting."
"Overreacting? Overreacting? You shut me in this broom cupboard for thirteen hours!"
"I did. But it was for your own good!"
"I drank five goblets of wine! Do you have any idea how much I needed to piss?"
"I really don't –"
"I thought I was going to die! I got so hungry I thought I was going to have to eat my own arm!"
"Now that is overreacting."
"Where's Eames? What did you do with him?"
Dom said nothing, picking at the hem of his sleeve as if it was utterly fascinating.
"Dominick."
Arthur stepped closer, frowning furiously.
"You threw him in the dungeons, didn't you?"
"It was for –"
"Oh my actual God, Dom! You can't just do that! You can't just imprison a guy for looking at me!"
"I think he did more than look. You can't just let someone you don't even know do that, Arthur."
"I do know Eames!"
Dom rounded on him.
"You said you didn't know him last night. You lied to me!"
"Maybe? Yes? I didn't know I knew him!"
"What?"
"It's kind of a long story."
"I have time."
"Well I don't," said Arthur, pushing past him, "If you'll excuse me, I've got to release someone from the dungeons."
Dom grabbed Arthur by the arm.
"Sir Eames isn't trustworthy, Arthur. He wasn't always a knight, you know. He got the title through thievery and deceit. He's already been kicked out of at least three kingdoms for his dishonesty. He's used countless nobles just to get money and power. Who's to say he won't do the same to you?"
Arthur froze, and Dom pulled him into a hug.
"I just want you to be safe. You're my little brother and I love you."
There was a pause.
"No homo," Dom added.
Eames had spent the night in a cold cell with no company save for a few rats and a weird old guy who smelt weird and mumbled a lot about mushrooms. To be fair, Eames had had worse nights – in prison cells, in the forest, in the beds of particularly demanding nobles – but still, it wasn't great. He hadn't slept, and lay awake thinking about Arthur (but not touching himself – he was pretty sure the weird old guy was watching.) Arthur came for him the next morning. A nod to the guards and they released Eames, and Arthur took his elbow and steered him outside.
"You took your time," Eames muttered.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I spent all of last night in the broom cupboard you dragged me into."
"I was hoping the evening would end along those lines."
They came to the courtyard outside, and Arthur let go of Eames, turning away from him in annoyance.
"Don't even joke about it."
Eames took his hand.
"I'm sorry."
Arthur looked at him.
"What for, Eames? For getting me locked in a broom cupboard? For trying to shag me when I was fifteen? For turning up here and expecting me to just welcome you in?"
"I was going to say the broom cupboard thing… But yeah, that other stuff too."
"You know what, Eames, just go. Dom's right. Everyone wants something from me. There's no-one who really cares about me, about who I am. You're not any different. You've used a lot of people before. Why'd you treat me any better?"
"Arthur, please –"
"No. Just – just leave me alone. I don't want to see you again. Like, ever. I hope you just die so I won't ever have to look at your stupid face again."
"That's a bit harsh, darling."
"Go away, Eames."
Arthur stormed off, and he totally wasn't crying, that was just his pollen allergy, it always happened this time of year. Eames didn't follow him.
After a night of wavering, Dom had finally decided that he was a gentleman, and as such, he could not possibly visit Lady Mal's chambers. He could, however, jerk off over her, which was the next best thing. It wasn't the same, though. Mal cornered him again the next day.
"You didn't come," she said, invading his personal space.
"Er – I – erm – no."
"I waited up for you."
"Sorry about that."
"Why didn't you come?"
"It's not – I couldn't – I am a gentleman. It would – it would be improper."
"Why do you care so much about rules, Dominique? I disregard them."
"Yeah, but you're French."
"Can't you break a few rules from time to time, also?" Mal asked, leaning closer.
"I – you know, I really shouldn't."
Mal smiled.
"But you want to."
"Well, of course, who wouldn't? You've got – you're – I mean, yeah."
"So why don't you? No-one will know. It'll be our little secret."
Mal pressed a hand to Dom's upper thigh, and Dom felt a lot more persuaded.
"I'll wait for you again tonight," she said, and left.
Dom groaned. This was a quandary. On the one hand, there was a sexy French lady. On the other, a cold, empty bed. Yeah, it actually wasn't much of a quandary at all.
"Who am I fucking kidding?" said Dom, and ran after her.
Yusuf stared at his master when he finally turned up at his room in the castle, dirty and bedraggled.
"What happened to you?"
"Dom happened to me."
Eames sat heavily on the bed. It was alright, but nowhere near as large or as robust as his own bed. (That thing really could take some pounding.) The room was actually pretty small and plain, with a wardrobe, a small window, and an end table with a few books. This annoyed Eames more than it should have done. He was staying in the king's fucking castle and his room didn't even have a tiny hairdryer or biscuits or anything.
"You know you're a fucking idiot," said Yusuf unhelpfully.
"Oh, I know."
Yusuf took off Eames' God-awful hat, and attempted to brush the dirt off it. He had little success.
"Now what? Are you expelled from court?"
"No. But Dom's pretty pissed and Arthur's not that happy either. They're making get the fuck out noises."
Yusuf gave up on the hat and pulled off Eames' now dirt-encrusted tunic.
"I'll have to burn these," he said, unceremoniously throwing the clothes in a heap.
"You couldn't just –"
"No."
"Are they completely beyond –"
"Yes."
Eames shrugged listlessly, and Yusuf sighed.
"You can't say I didn't warn you. I said it'd only end in tears. You have only yourself to blame."
"What are you, my mum?"
"Don't be ridiculous," said Yusuf, licking his finger and rubbing a speck of dirt off Eames' face.
He'd never seen Eames quite so miserable. Normally when he got in trouble he'd just blame someone else, or else say "Fuck the police!" and do a strange sort of victory dance that involved a lot of pelvic thrusting. (Yusuf thought he didn't quite understand that phrase.)
"Chin up," said Yusuf, "There's always Bayard's court. Even if it is shit."
Eames sighed heavily.
"What is it?" Yusuf asked.
Eames looked at him, utterly serious, and said, "I think I'm in love."
Yusuf stared at him unblinkingly.
"What."
"I think I'm in love with Arthur."
"What the actual motherloving fuck? Are you alright? Did Dom hit you really hard? Shall I call a physician? Talk to me, Eames!" Yusuf cried, slapping him in the face for good measure.
"Ow! I'm fine, Yusuf."
"Do you remember who you are? You're Sir Eames of Zenith. You're an arrogant tosser who steals and lies and sleeps around for personal gain. You don't care about other people. You don't do things other people do, like having friends or wearing underpants or falling in love. You just don't. You're also a shit employer. And you smell funny."
"Now that's just personal abuse."
"Yeah, but you do deserve it."
"I mean it, Yusuf. I think I love Arthur."
Yusuf looked at him sceptically.
"Why?"
"Just – I don't know! He's a stubborn little bitch. I love his smart-arse comments and the way he looks at you like he's above you. He's the prince and he knows it. He can say what he likes to you, and he doesn't hold back. He puts all grumpy teenagers to shame."
Yusuf frowned.
"Hang on – this is what you like about him?"
"I bloody love it."
"Yep, you're in love."
"Fuck. You're sure?"
"In order to put up with that kind of shit, you'd have to be his mum, thick, or in love. And you're definitely not the former, so I think it's a combination of the other two."
"Remind me again why I employ you?"
"Because all of your other servants walked out because, as I believe I've already mentioned, you're a shit employer. Also because I've sworn to serve you until I can repay my debt to you."
"Yes, why did you do that?"
"It's a binding oath of honour. Don't worry, I don't expect you to understand, you don't have any yourself."
About two years previously, Sir Eames had saved his manservant's life, before he was Sir Eames and before Yusuf was his manservant. The full story involves Lady Ealdgyd's thighs, a castle guard with a secret ambition to become a thespian, and twenty thousand carrots – but it's a long, long story, and conveniently, one for another time. The upshot of it was that Yusuf had vowed to be Eames' servant until he could save Eames' life in return.
"That's the problem, Yusuf! Dom won't let Arthur go to anyone who isn't honourable and true. Someone who can prove that they really care about him. And I know I'm not chivalrous or good or brave, but with Arthur, I'm not in it for the money, or the power, or even for the undoubtedly fantastic sex – I'm in it for the long term."
Yusuf's eyes went wide.
"Oh my God. You want to marry him."
"Oh my God. I do."
Eames flailed a bit and landed on his back, across the bed, head and legs dangling off the edges.
"I'm actually a teenage girl."
He hid his face in his hands, and tried to think about manly things, like bacon and chopping wood and DIY and WWE, but it was all smothered by his silly smushy love for Arthur.
"What's happening to me?" he groaned.
"There's no fighting it, Eames. You just have to accept that you fancy him stupid and want to hold his hand and draw hearts on your parchment and get all flustered when he's around. Only then can you fight for the annoying, hormonal lovemuffin of your heart."
Eames sat up.
"You're right. Arthur needs a man of honour, and I can be that man. I will woo, as I have never wooed before."
"To be fair, your wooing technique consists of staring at someone's arse and proposing a quickie behind the stables, so I don't think that's going to be too hard to beat."
Eames winced.
"I need help."
Yusuf sighed and slumped down on the bed next to him, and they sat in silence, thinking.
"If only," said Eames, "There was some kind of guide that taught you how to woo properly."
"As if someone would ever have the time or inclination to write that."
It was at that moment that Eames looked at the books on the end table.
"What about that?" he said, pointing to the smallest one.
"Eames," said Yusuf, picking up the book and blowing the dust off it, "The chances that this book, let alone any other, will tell you how to woo Arthur is virtually –"
He stopped and stared at the book. There, in faded gold letters on the cover, was the title How to Woo Your Maiden. Eames grinned.
"Impossible," said Yusuf.
Arthur was not sulking. Running away from Eames, shutting himself in his room, throwing that stupid wolfskin off the bed, and then throwing himself onto the bed, did not constitute sulking. He was just thinking. About Eames. About stupid fucking annoying handsome Eames who he completely hated and wanted to die a slow and painful death, preferably due to the application of leeches to his face. It wasn't like he wanted to touch him again, kiss him again, just to see if it'd be like the way he remembered, if there was something he did that meant that kissing anyone else could never be as good as kissing him. Because that would be completely stupid, because Eames was a cheat and a user and he'd just take him for what he was worth, love him and leave him, and that'd be pretty fucking awful and Arthur would cry so much he'd get dehydrated and die because he was completely desiccated. So basically, he couldn't shag Eames because that would result in his death, and probably Dom's as well, because he'd challenge Eames to a duel because he was a fucking ponce, and Eames would kill him, and as much as Dom annoyed Arthur it was probably best if he didn't die. Damn Eames and his penis of doom.
There was a knock at Arthur's door.
"Go away, Dom," he groaned.
The door opened.
"I'm not Dom."
"Dad?"
Arthur sat up, rubbing his reddened eyes.
"Hey, babe," said King Uther, coming over to sit on the bed next to his son, "You okay?"
Arthur sniffed.
"I'm fine."
"Come on. Tell me what's up. You know you can tell your old man anything."
Arthur smiled. He could tell his dad a lot of things, but not this. Even Uther had limits. Perverts in the forest was probably where those limits began.
"It's nothing," Arthur said.
"Is it a girl?"
"No."
"Is it a boy? Which is cool by the way, I don't care if you dig chicks or dudes, it's totally fine, I mean even I feel a bit gay sometimes, your uncle Maurice isn't bad-looking and I'd so give him –"
"Dad! Too much information!" Arthur cried.
"Sorry. So is it a boy?"
Arthur thought before he answered. On the one hand, he could tell the truth – King Uther was one of the more liberal rulers of Albion, and Camelot had women's rights, racial equality, same-sex marriage, the works. On the other hand, King Uther was also his dad and he could be pretty fucking annoying, like everyone else in his family, apart from his mum because she was dead and couldn't annoy him anymore. On balance, Arthur decided to say nothing, just looked down and bit his lip.
"It is," said Uther gleefully, elbowing him in the ribs, "Isn't it?"
"Yes, okay, okay, it is. Happy now?"
"Of course! I'm very proud of you, my firstborn gay son," said Uther, hugging his son tightly.
Arthur hugged him back half-heartedly.
"Who is it? This isn't the knight that Dom's been telling me about, is it? Sir James or Eames or something. He wants him expelled from court for touching you."
"Eames didn't do anything!"
"Oh, so it is him! How far have you gone? Have you boys had a roll in the hay?"
"Oh my God, dad! No! We haven't! I don't even like him anyway."
"So what are you doing angsting over him?"
"I just," Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair, "We – a while ago – we kind of – had a moment."
King Uther raised an eyebrow.
"A moment?"
"We just – it was a few years ago, and he was my first, and, yeah. And now he's here again and I don't know what – I just don't know."
"You lost your virginity to him years ago?"
"What? No!"
"Oh, I was going to say I was impressed. I myself was fourteen when I first –"
"Dad!"
"Sorry. So you didn't shag him."
"No, it was just a kiss. Or two. Or more."
"Oh. So was it more… romantic?"
Arthur laughed dryly.
"I didn't even know him."
The king nodded.
"But you still have feelings for him."
"No! It's just – no-one else I've ever kissed feels as good as him. I've tried, but it's not the same. And I don't know why."
Uther put an arm around his son's shoulders.
"I think I do."
"Really."
"It happened to me when I met your mother. I'd kissed dozens of girls, and did more besides, I had a lot of fun in my youth I can tell you – but when I met Ygraine, it was different. I couldn't understand why I'd ever kissed anyone else. Why I'd ever want to kiss anyone but her. I loved your mother very much."
"Dad, you're not saying – I'm – in love?"
Arthur looked at his father incredulously.
"Yes," said Uther, "I am."
Arthur pulled away, stood up.
"No, no, no, not him, why would I love him, he's ridiculous, he doesn't love me, he'll leave, I, what, how – what?"
Uther chuckled.
"Sorry, son. It's just something you have to work out yourself."
"But – but I can't be in love, I can't."
"You can," said Uther, getting up and going to the door.
"This is completely inconvenient!"
"You can't choose who you fall in love with," said Uther, smiling as he left.
Arthur groaned and sank to his knees and hugged the wolfskin to his chest and told himself he really, really couldn't do this. He looked down at the wolfskin, then chucked it under his bed. Think about the doom penis, Arthur. Think about the doom penis.
"I didn't know you could read," said Yusuf, chewing on an apple as Eames sat in his room, poring over How to Woo Your Maiden.
"I can't. I'm just looking at the pictures."
Yusuf rolled his eyes.
"If you wanted me to read it to you all you had to do was ask. It's not embarrassing. I've done far worse things for you. I can read to you. I think we've reached that point in our relationship. In fact, I think we're way past it."
"Well, actually, I can read a bit. Sir Adam Godfrey taught me reading and writing. Along with a few other things. I wasn't much good at it. I picked up the other things quite well though."
"Just have a go at the first page. I'm sure you're not too awful."
Eames flicked the book to the first page and put his finger next to the first word as a marker.
"Ch-ap-ter – chapter one. De – dec-la-ring – declaring thine – thine aff – affect – i-on – affections!"
"Okay, I was wrong, you're shit at reading."
Yusuf grabbed the book from him.
"That's undermining my self-confidence!"
"Oh yeah, because you don't have enough of that already."
"I could be hiding a deep hurt inside."
"The only thing you're hiding inside is cake," said Yusuf, prodding Eames' stomach.
Eames recoiled, clutching at the slight pudge on his stomach.
"I like food, okay? Is that such a crime, Yusuf? Is it?!"
Yusuf frowned at the book, paying his master no attention.
"Before pursuing thine maiden," he read, "(Or dude, I don't care, do who the fuck you want), ye must first make thine intentions apparent. Present thineself to thine maiden whenst she alone be, and declare thine affections and desire for matrimony with her."
"Sounds simple enough," said Eames, "I've just got to get him alone."
"It's not simple. Dom will be watching him like a hawk, and you said yourself he's not too enamoured with you at the moment."
"Come on. How hard can it be?"
