"You're to go alone, the village is small and there will be no risk to you along the way."
"Yes father," Arthur replied, nodding his head at the instructions which he was unsure of how to take.
"You may take your manservant, of course, and your horse – I expect you to arrive back in time for the banquet tomorrow evening."
Arthur nodded once more, sensing that the meeting was coming to an end; his father stood from his chair and was pacing past him towards the door.
"You remember your way?"
At this Arthur could not repress a sceptical stare.
"Yes, father," his tone was almost immature, but Uther decided to ignore it, and motion his son to come closer. He gripped his shoulder, and into Arthur's right hand he thrust an amulet.
"This will be the exchange."
Arthur looked the object over with the air of somebody familiar with expensive metals, and he turned up his nose slightly at its plainness.
"Sentimental value," Uther explained, "the village leader's father wore this in my service, and I am giving to his son what was rightly bestowed upon me on the man's death."
Arthur nodded for the third time. And then Uther signalled his leave, and the prince took one glance out of the window at the fast approaching nightfall, before walking to his chamber.
He mapped the journey in his mind, a trip he had taken many times in his life, but always during the summer, when daylight was long; he had never crossed the forest path to Asidore in darkness. He was not afraid of the wood at night; creatures could not scare the crown prince of Camelot, but the idea of arriving at the banquet late set his heartbeat quickening, and the image of his father's disappointed face rattled him more than he cared to admit.
If he was sure of anything, it was that he needed to leave instantly, and so, walking straight past his chamber, he bounded into Merlin's on the floor below.
"Upstairs, now, my chamber!" was all he said to the startled boy, before slamming the door shut and making his way ahead.
Merlin had been napping on a chair... so quickly he could sleep when his body had been exhausted. His dreams had been innocent, thankfully, and in the instance of waking he had forgotten to feel embarrassed at Arthur's intrusion on his half-naked slumber; he napped shirtless, always.
He rubbed his eyes sorely and slumped to his task, not once pausing to consider the unlikely implication of Arthur's command, which was fortunate for him because the prince was not in the mood to tolerate "funny" behaviour.
"Oh!" Arthur called when Merlin entered his chambers a minute later, "just dawdle away, please! It's not like you're working on my time or anything..."
"Um," Merlin began, but was silenced by Arthur's frantic footsteps, and flailing arms.
"Well come on, you've got to suit me and pack us; we're going to Asidore."
Merlin raised his eyebrow, though by now should have been unsurprised at the prince's random requests. He quickly re-started his brain, and entered servant mode once again, fastening the button Arthur was holding out to him, and then picking the needed equipment from the room.
"Where's my cloak?"
"I don't know, where did you put it?"
"It isn't my job to know, is it? It's yours!"
Merlin put down the sack he was carrying onto Arthur's bed, none too lightly, beginning to miss the chair and his sleep. He scanned the floor for the cloak, and saw a corner of it peering from underneath the bed. He noted the way Arthur was spitting his commands through his teeth, and decided it would be best for them both if he worked faster. But unfortunately, doubling the speed of actions usually halved their success.
"Merlin! Look what you've done now, how am I supposed to ride into Asidore with a ripped tunic?"
The wizard, in his haste to put the cloak on Arthur, had snagged the material of the tunic with a chisel he had picked up from the floor to stop from tripping over. He sighed in exasperation.
"Do you mind telling me the reason for all this rush?"
"The reason, Merlin," he dragged out the first syllable of the wizard's name in that way of his which Merlin would describe as prattish, "is that my father is throwing a banquet here tomorrow night, which I am required to attend, and the trip to Asidore will take half a day there, half a day back..."
"So..." Merlin spoke, searching for another tunic when he paused suddenly; realisation dawning. He and Arthur would be away for the night... and he started to feel the panic rising as he remembered his tendency to talk in his sleep.
"So, if we are late because of your incompetence, you will be stocked tightly for the rest of the week."
Merlin gulped, and satisfaction bloomed on Arthur's face; but he was wrong in the assumption that the wizard's fear had anything to do with the stocks.
Arthur pulled off his tunic when Merlin had found another and he waited, with a tongue jabbed in his cheek, to be redressed.
By now the panic was firmly settled, and with fingers he tried so hard to keep from trembling, the wizard put on the prince's clothes, fumbling when he brushed against Arthur's waist but not letting himself notice how close his fingers were to warm, naked skin. Arthur, however, did notice. Violently, he flinched.
"Your fingers are cold!" his hips had jerked with the accusation, more venomous than intended, and he bit his lip as goose-bumps trailed across his stomach.
"S..sorry," Merlin spluttered, leaving Arthur to tuck the loose material into his breeches himself. He did so, with an angry glare, stepping towards the fire.
Merlin silently busied himself then with preparing the equipment, and the prince barked more orders – which he ended up carrying out himself – until the pair were ready to leave for the
stables.
"Um, are we camping at Asidore?" Merlin asked when they left the chamber, to which Arthur had replied with a nod towards the blankets in his grip.
When the horses were packed and the command for standby was given to the guards, Arthur bade farewell to his father and the boys climbed onto their steeds.
With the sun far beneath the dip of the horizon, and with Merlin's anxiety as useless as the light from the stars, the journey began; the wizard gulping repeatedly until his breath was steady and his horse paced with Arthurs'... and the prince wondering why goose-bumps still cooled the skin of his stomach.
