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Chapter 2
"Oh god," he yelps as his skates make contact with the ice. He holds on to the railing for dear life as his legs go flailing and he tries to bring them back together, his embarrassment momentarily vanquished in the face of fear. He looks around for Gwyn and sees her faring similarly, but much more happily as Lancelot stands by her like a safety net. He focuses on keeping his legs still and tries to simply glide around the rink, one hand clutching the railing at all times, like a lifeboat. Despite this, he still manages to nearly fall backwards four times and he has to cling desperately to the hand rails to keep from landing on the ground in an undignified heap each time. He thinks he is doing quite well, all things considered. He legs do tend to sporadically act of their own accord, but he always manages to pull himself back together. The worst part is watching the way everyone around him manages it so much better than he does, even the other first-timers.
By the time he manages a full circle, the soles of his feet are aching terribly, and he is quite sure his ankle is bruised. He feels utterly miserable and looks around to see if he can convince Gwyn to let him leave. After a minute or so, he finally spots her somewhere around the centre of the rink. She isn't gliding smoothly, but she has improved and she and Lance look to be in heavenly states. As happy as he is for her, a sad ache touches his heart as he considers that neither of them would notice if he goes missing. He lets his guard down as he slowly makes his way to the exit and he is about to leave when a young boy, no more than ten years, whizzes past him in skates that look far too big for his age. He feels a moment of unadulterated fear as he leans backwards, lifts his hands off the railing to cover his face and falls quickly backwards. His elbows collide violently with the cold, hard ice and he can feel the warming particles of water seeping through his jeans. He looks up and sees people staring at him and he just wants to crawl into a hole and die.
"Merlin! Are you alright?" Lancelot cries softly, not wanting to attract attention, "Take my hands, I'll pull you up."
"You'll fall too," he replies stupidly, already feeling the loss of his little grey cells. Lancelot smiles at him with fondness and lifts him up readily. Merlin sees Gwyn standing behind him, looking worried.
"I'm fine," he reassures her, "I was just thinking about maybe lea-"
"You shouldn't be learning how to skate on your own, it'll take forever," Lancelot interrupts, "Wait here a second."
As Lance skates away, Merlin turns beseechingly to Gwyn.
"Gwyn, I'm really not feeling up to this. You and Lance seem to be getting on fabulously, can I please go?"
Gwyn is nodding her head sympathetically, and for a second, Merlin feels some hope squeeze its way through to him. He should have known it was too good to last. Gwyn's eyes skirt towards the area just above his shoulder and her eyes widen shockingly.
"I saw you fall over, is everything okay?" a deep and honey-coated familiar voice comes from behind him- familiar because he hears the same voice weekly, at every school assembly. His own eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as he exchanges a meaningful glance with Gwyn and he tells himself he's not twice as shaky as he turns to face the Pendragon.
"Umm…" he starts off, confounded. After a few seconds of relative silence, Arthur starts looking at him as if he is mentally retarded and in need of therapy and he suddenly feels a lot less nervous. Arrogant, supercilious prats, he can deal with. "I'm fine, thanks; I was just lea-"
"Arthur!" Arthur turns around to see an out of breath Lancelot skidding to a stop on the ice behind him. "I was looking all over for you! It's Merlin's first time skating here, and who better than you to show him the ropes?"
Arthur raises an eyebrow at his friend's unexpected flattery- knowing it for what it is as he follows Lancelot's not-so-discreet eye movements towards Gwyn. Merlin hopes dearly that Arthur will tell Lancelot to find someone else to take care of Merlin, as his eyes scoured the rink for any sign of a free staff member. Unfortunately, they were all doing damage control around the rink.
"Unfortunately, the rest of the staff is busy," Arthur starts and Merlin scowls up at him under his lashes, "so it seems you're stuck with me, if you'll have me?" Arthur finishes, his shy smile wearing away at the edges as he contemplates the mean look Merlin's sending his way. Merlin flushes, embarrassed, and he is, again, quite speechless. Arthur's eyes were sapphire crystal orbs of the deepest blue and behind them lay a hint of alluring vulnerability. Merlin shakes himself out of his girly thoughts before he can be even more mortified at himself and takes the warm, calloused hand that Arthur holds out, hardened from years of sports and athletics. He feels a growing sense of dread in his stomach, mixed in with a couple of butterflies. It's a very strange feeling, he reflected. Lance winks at Arthur and leads Gwyn away to a more private spot on the rink.
"Take both my hands, Merlin."
Merlin looks at him as if he's mental and asking Merlin to jump off the edge of a cliff, "Excuse me?"
Arthur laughs. "You heard me," he says, "I'll take care of you, I promise."
"It won't be up to you, I'll take us both down."
"Trust me."
Merlin looks at him carefully and, after detecting no hint of deception in Arthur's eyes, he lets go of the railing and takes hold of Arthur's other hand too.
"Good. Now I'm going to skate backwards; I want you to keep your feet still and slight parted- don't move them too much just yet."
Arthur starts moving as Merlin nods, swallowing.
"You don't have to do this, you know. I was actually thinking of leaving; Lance and Gwyn don't look like they would notice. I could save you the trouble."
"Nonsense! Everyone should skate at least once in their lifetime. It's no trouble- really."
"You sure you're not going to end up pushing me into the ice yourself?" Merlin jokes nervously.
Arthur frowns at him, "Why would you think that?"
"It's just…I've seen you at school and I'm quite sure you'll get tired of me. You don't come across as patient. I'm a fast learner usually, just not when it comes to sports."
While Arthur considers his words thoughtfully, Merlin looks around and realises that they're at the centre of the rink. He smiles.
"There you go," Arthur grins, "you're better when you're distracted. Try not to think so much, just let go. It's the best part about ice skating, the catharsis of it."
"That's if you have the balance; to me, it's a death wish."
"You're doing beautifully," Arthur smiles, "Now I want you to let go of my hands."
"NO!" Merlin shrieks, digging his nails into Arthur's palms and attracting strange looks from a few curious onlookers. "No," he repeats more quietly.
"I'm right here," Arthur says softly, "just keep talking to me and keep calm."
Arthur lets go and Merlin shuts his eyes, already feeling his legs widen involuntarily through the pressure of the ice. Then he feels Arthurs arm wrap around his shoulders, a comforting weight.
"Keep your legs still and together; keep the balance," he whispers into Merlin's ear, and Merlin shudders unwillingly, "I want you to put one leg in front of the other, the way I'm doing now but don't put push backwards like you do when you're walking."
Merlin tries, and nearly slips, but Arthur's arm holds him steady.
"Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Merlin squeaks as he flails.
"It's okay; it's okay! Calm down, Merlin! Easy there."
Merlin's breathing heavily by the time he comes to a standstill and he's avoiding Arthur's eyes, looking instead, at the ground.
"Are you alright?" he asks concernedly, trying to catch Merlin's eye. Merlin nods back without speaking and Arthur sighs.
"I've trained a few people and a lot of them started off far worse, you've nothing to be uncomfortable about. I was worse when I first tried this, believe me. I had scrapes and bruises on every spare inch of my body, but my father wouldn't let until I'd perfected the ability. I can't complain, since I absolutely love skating, but I feel as if I'd love it a lot more if I hadn't been forced into doing it. You can leave if you really want to, but I'd love for you to give it a few more tries, and not be afraid of falling."
Merlin gapes at Arthur openness, trust and his admission of helplessness in the face of Merlin's sorrow. He starts to recognise another side to the flawless Arthur Pendragon and he's starting to become afraid of the feeling that the side ignites in him. He nods his head, touched and gobsmacked, and readies himself for another go.