In which we meet Arthur the Prat, and Merlin the Idiot :)

When Arthur was twenty years, two months, and two days old, he regressed to the age of seven.

Merlin had been Arthur's manservant for a little over a fortnight, and had proven himself to be useless at pretty much all tasks.

But when a day clear of meetings and counsels dawned particularly bright and sunny, Arthur had made his first mistake. He decided to go hunting.

However, when he was summoned to see his father an hour later, Uther informed him that his knights had been dispatched for extra patrol duty, because Uther feared they were 'becoming idle'. This display of blatant mistrust had riled Arthur considerably, and despite now lacking anyone to go hunting with, he had been more determined than ever to get out of Camelot for a few hours. This was his second mistake.

Arthur's third and largest mistake had been seeing Merlin in the corner of his room polishing a sword and deciding that a really brilliant idea would be to take his manservant along with him.

Merlin, to give him his due, had protested and stuttered, under the (correct) assumption that he really 'didn't think hunting was for him'. Arthur, with all the arrogance of one who is not thinking straight, had unfortunately bulldozed right over his protests.

And that had been how, three hours later, Arthur had found himself, frustrated, hot, and prey-less in the middle of the forest, with his idiot of a manservant crashing along behind him with all the subtlety of a drunken dragon.

Merlin had by now scared off a boar, two deer and countless rabbits, and Arthur was fairly certain that every creature within a mile's radius must now know of their presence. He had pretty much given up on catching anything, and was instead sitting slumped against a tree in a clearing, waiting impatiently for his manservant to catch him up.

After ten minutes or so, Merlin's crashing became louder, and eventually he burst through the bushes on the other side of the clearing, jerkin torn, hair ruffled, and a red scratch running down one side of his cheek.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Merlin raised a hand to rub self-consciously at his cheek and said,

'Had a bit of a disagreement with some brambles.'

Arthur refrained from rolling his eyes. He had previously been thinking that Merlin's sudden clumsiness around prey may have actually been entirely deliberate, but looking at his manservant now, he couldn't entirely be sure.

'Well what now then?'

Arthur gritted his teeth and forcibly stopped himself from reminding Merlin of his official title.

'Well, Merlin, I think you've probably succeeded in ruining any chance we…I...had of catching anything today, so I suggest we fill our water bottles from the river and then head back.'

Merlin shuffled his feet and looked sheepish.

'Sorry.'

Arthur rolled his eyes.

'Yeah, yeah.'

He set off through the bushes, heading towards the sound of running water, and after about five minutes, pushed his way through some trees and came upon a wide, lazily-flowing river.

Crouching, Arthur tried both to forget about how hot he was, and to ignore how inviting the water looked, and concentrated on re-filling his water bottle. Merlin had not yet reached the river bank, but Arthur could hear him fumbling along somewhere behind.

Once the water bottle was full, Arthur carefully capped it, and then gave into the temptation to splash some water onto his face.

It was at this point that Merlin erupted through the trees behind him. Arthur was facing the other way, and so didn't see exactly what happened, but all he heard was, 'those damn low hanging brancheeesss----arrrrrggghhh!'

And then, then, a dead-weight crashed straight into Arthur's back, and he fell head first into the river.

The water, as it turned out, was not actually that deep - when Arthur stood up, it only came to his waist. However, it was cold enough that when Arthur resurfaced, slicking his hair back from his eyes, and trying to ignore the way his cold shirt clung to his skin, he was already gnashing his teeth in fury.

It was quite difficult to maintain the princely façade when he was certain he had pond weed dripping from his hair, but Arthur gave it a decent effort, and he fixed Merlin, who was sprawled in a dazed looking heap on the bank, with a steely glare.

Merlin sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head, and further mussing his hair in the process, and said,

'Uh, sorry sire…I fell over a tree root.'

Arthur had glared some more.

'Merlin,' he'd said, 'you will come here, help me out of this river, and then you will hold still and let me beat your idiotic head into a pancake. That is a royal order.'

Merlin had winced for a second, but then heaved himself to his feet, staggering somewhat, but not looking anywhere near alarmed as Arthur thought he should, considering physical violence had just been threatened.

He'd approached the bank, still wobbling somewhat, and extended a hand down to Arthur. Arthur had reached up to take it, and as he'd done so, he'd had every good intention of merely using Merlin as a dead weight by which to lever himself out of the water. However, as their fingers brushed, Arthur felt a strange twinge of something, and all in a rush, the Arthur that he had kept well hidden for so long had risen to the surface and overwhelmed him.

And instead of pulling himself out onto the bank, he instead used the outstretched hand to pull Merlin into the river.

There was a yell, a flail of gangly arms, and an almighty splash, and then Merlin emerged from the water, dark hair dripping like a wet dog, blue eyes glowing, and wearing the most bemused and indignant expression that Arthur had ever seen.

Arthur himself had, inexplicably, still not sure why the hell he'd even done that, grinned.

'I cannot believe you didn't see that coming.'

Merlin was looking at him, endearingly (?) bewildered, and after a second's silence, he grinned back, a wide grin that almost split his face in two, and said,

'I cannot believe you actually have a sense of humour.'

And well, Crown Prince of Camelot or not, Arthur couldn't let him get away with that. It was out of the question. And so he did the only thing comprehensible. He seized Merlin's ears, and shoved his manservant under the water.

And so commenced the battle.

Almost an hour later, Arthur finally called a real truce, and hauled himself out of the river onto the bank. He sprawled onto his back and waited for Merlin to join him.

Arthur had been somewhat shocked at just how good Merlin was at water wars. Arthur had superior strength, superior skill, superior training, and yet somehow, Merlin had managed to match him trick for trick perfectly. If Arthur hadn't known the notion was ridiculous, he would almost have said Merlin had a little something else on his side.

Arthur closed his eyes, and felt, rather than heard, Merlin collapse beside him, panting somewhat. Arthur knew he should really move now, and put an end to this hour of madness, but there was a strange warm feeling in the pit of his stomach and his mouth hurt from smiling so much, so instead of moving he settled for lazily watching the blotches of colour drift across his closed eyelids.

He wasn't sure exactly what had just happened, he hadn't messed around and so completely let his guard drop for as long as he could remember, yet Merlin didn't seem to be judging the Crown Prince for behaving like a five year old. If anything he seemed to prefer Arthur this way.

This was a strange, and slightly uncomfortable notion, and so Arthur decided now was the time to make a move to return to Camelot.

'Merlin?' he said, 'Merlin! We need to be getting back. Saddle the horses, and fetch the water bottles.'

There was a distinct lack of reply.

Rolling onto his side, Arthur propped himself up onto his elbows, preparing to berate his manservant. The sight that met his eyes erased that plan before the words had even started to form.

Merlin was sprawled on his back, arms above his head, sleeping like a cat in the sun. His head was turned to the side, revealing a strip of pale skin above his ridiculous neckerchief, and a single drop of water was slowly running its way down the angle of his jaw. The startling blue eyes, one of the first things Arthur had noticed about the other boy, were hidden by a fringe of dark eyelashes that made an oddly perfect curve against Merlin's ludicrous cheekbones.

Merlin's hair was still ruffled, and he wore a small smile as he slept, and Arthur wondered abstractly whether he was dreaming.

The drop of water ran a few more centimetres down Merlin's jaw, now travelling across the sensitive skin where his ear met his neck, and Arthur watched, strangely unable to look away, until it soaked into the material of the scarf, turning a small section of the drying material a darker red.

Feeling a strange sense of peace wash over him, Arthur collapsed down onto his back again, and closed his eyes.

He wouldn't be missed for another hour or so.