Things Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do (According to Prince Arthur)
17: Go About Not Wearing a Neckerchief

"Merlin, hurry up. You're going to be late."

"I can't find it!" Merlin sounds much stressed, and when Gaius steps inside the room yelling at him to hurry lest he wants the prince to put the servant in the stocks again, the boy looks at him panicked, arms flailing. "I can't find it anywhere!"

"What can't you find?"

"My neckerchiefs! Any of them! They're - they're all gone!"

"Merlin," the physician says calmly, "it's just a piece of cloth."

"But I need them!" Merlin cries, while lifting another box to see if its beneath it (nope) and then tearing it open, digging through the contents (not there either), and stares around wide-eyed realizing he's turned the whole room upside down and still not found the precious item. Then he turns to the physician with pleading eyes, an upset expression on his face. "Gaius, you've got to help me find them, at least one of them! Please!"

Gaius can't really see what the big fuss is about. He's not seen his nephew without that red or occasionally blue fabric around his neck before, but it can hardly matter, can it, a simple piece of cloth. "You must be with the prince now, Merlin; the council meeting begins in five minutes, and you can hardly keep the king waiting."

"I know, but just, maybe if I look-"

"Merlin."

"All right, all right, I'm going!"

()()()

Arthur.

Is not impressed.

He's dressed, his hair is combed, his chambers are a mess (wardrobe wide open, various items of clothing thrown about the room and onto the unmade bed) and the table is full of half-eaten dishes, dirty plates and cups. So he's had breakfast then, Merlin thinks with slight relief. And his shirt isn't inside out.

"You're. Late. By two. Hours!" The prince strides over, his voice taking on a dangerous low I'm-going-to-give-you-a-slow-painful-death-unless-you-give-me-a-good-explanation-right-now tone, which makes even Merlin, who is used to and has developed a defense to Arthur's various moods, wince. "Look at the state of this room! I had to dress and fetch my own breakfast, because no servant was nearby, and I couldn't find that red jacket. Where the hell have you been!"

"I'm sorry!"

"As you should be," the prince growls. "My father could have you thrown in the dungeons if we're late. And lord Gothfrid as well, should he feel insulted!"

"I'm terribly sorry," Merlin says, again, vehemently, "but I was looking for something, and didn't realize the time - it won't happen again!"

"Looking for what?" Arthur asks, eyes narrowing and he actually turns to look at the servant. His breath lodges in his throat.

Oh.

So that's what...

Merlin isn't wearing a neckerchief. It's strange, Arthur realizes, he's never seen Merlin without a neckerchief before. He's always insisting on wearing one of those old, ragged things, blue or red. And, he realizes too, it's partly a good thing because Merlin without a neckerchief is bound to be quite ... distracting. He doesn't look bad - no, not at all - his neck long and pale and Arthur is hit by a sudden urge to kiss and taste it, and maybe some other things as well which he shouldn't right now - Merlin tilts his head looking at him oddly, the hint of a frown on his face.

Arthur jerks his gaze away from the manservant's neck at Merlin's voice.

"Arthur? Aren't we in a hurry for that meeting?"

()()()

The meeting is very, very important. And tedious. And quite pointless. It's been three and a half hours and they seem to have gotten nowhere. Councilors, Arthur concludes, can be very adamant about taxes. It's difficult to keep his focus up and keep down any sign of wavering attention or fatigue.

Not to mention the Merlin factor. The boy is very ... distracting. Normally, Merlin is anyway, with his untimely yawning and lack of respect and his gorgeous kissable lips smacking when he's bored and his wonderful blue eyes rolling skywards when someone at the table says something stupid and other little things like that which keeps Arthur glancing at him more than he should. But this, this is...

Arthur can't stop himself from looking.

He blames it on the neckerchief. Yes. Definitely. Or rather, the lack of the neckerchief. The long graceful neck, the smooth pale skin, the very visible Adam's apple which moves as the boy swallows or yawns. All of it exposed and bare, all of which Arthur keep ... looking at. And what's worse, he's not the only one.

If he's not looking at his manservant, or trying (and failing horribly) to concentrate on what his father is saying, the prince takes his time glaring at every other person present. Most of them wince and seem to get the idea and avert their eyes from the manservant. Others are a bit slow, like one of the knights, who gaze lovingly (with some sickening lots of winking) at Merlin, and said servant, sensing the gaze, smiles nervously back.

Honestly.

It's annoying. Disturbing. Infuriating. Incredibly so. Distracting. Has he said infuriating? Merlin shouldn't smile back at that stupid man, because he's Arthur's manservant, no one else's! There might be an unspoken "look but don't touch" policy around, but Arthur really wants to edit that to "don't look, don't touch". Oh, damn this stupid council! And the stupid missing neckerchief! And Merlin's long, beautiful neck ... - Argh damn it, he promised himself to stop thinking about that!

But since it's a very important meeting, Arthur can't speak a word about that or send away the boy to mock out the stables or something, anything but linger here; the king is speaking to Lord Gothfrid about the tax income from the outlying villages and everyone is obliged to listen very carefully.

()()()

For the sixth or seventh time, Merlin fails to stifle a yawn. He's trying to discreet, biting his lip or hiding it beneath his hand, but he's sure it hasn't gone unnoticed because Arthur gives him a sharp, intense look, as does a couple of the councilors and that knight (has the latter something stuck in his eye, a fly or something? Merlin wonders. Because he blinks a lot).

The servant tries to look apologetic and struggles to keep the next yawn down. But honestly, why is he even here? Why can't Arthur have given him some other chore? Or he could have a lie-in. That'd be wonderful. Standing here next to the prince's chair is incredibly boring - at least they could've allowed him to sit down! He's the only servant here, Merlin notices absently. Even the King's horde of servants isn't present. Lucky them, he thinks, wondering if they have time off or if they have been given other work to do. At least they can't be as totally bored as he is now.

Nothing can be more boring than this. Boringer...Is that a word? He could make it a word. Boringer. This is more boringer than boring. Boring boringer boringest.

He stifles a giggle, turning it more into a short quiet snort.

Arthur glances at him again, and Merlin bites his lip. He's pretty sure the prince is mentally chiding him and calling him an idiot or something. Yeah, of course, and as soon as this is over he's going to get berated for being so disrespectful and reinforcing the court's general belief that Merlin has some kind of mental affliction. Giggling at nothing. Or worse, snorting at the King's speech. He's bound to be in trouble for that for sure.

Merlin can't understand what's so difficult about deciding on taxes. Last time this kind of meeting was held some three months ago, there was little to no effect afterwards; now they're saying almost exactly the same things as then.

Although, it's not exactly like then.

Back then the men didn't ... look at him that much. No one actually seems to listen to the King, even the most loyal councilors, and instead keep looking at the servant. Including Arthur, more than once. Merlin is used to be ignored or sometimes glared at, but these looks are strange, intense, there's something else behind the irises. Almost like they're all famished and he is a juicy steak or a full-course meal laid out before them.

It causes Merlin to blush suddenly, strongly, as the thought hits him, and he wants to hide his face in his hands or at least his neckerchief. But since he can't raise the former without getting more attention and doesn't wear the latter, he can just stand there and hope nobody's noticed. Speaking of the neckerchief, it's strange and slightly uncomfortable to not wear it. He's not used to it. And he's got nothing to fidget with when he's being watched, which makes him more the nervous.

The knight is winking at him again. Merlin doesn't know him that well, he's new; arrived at the city not even a month ago. Sir Murchadh, son of some northern lord. He's quite nice, and talks with an unfamiliar accent; he says his father was from the Kingdom of the Picts far up north and he's got lots of tales about that land, which Merlin finds fun to listen to. He's always loved stories. Sir Murchadh is quite a good storyteller, very vivid in both voice and motions. Absently Merlin wonders if he could ask the Knight after training today if he could tell him another, maybe that one about the beast in the lake; that's be wonderful. Maybe he could ask the knight to tell it to Arthur too, he's sure the prince would enjoy it even if he always says that stories are childish and silly and only children listen to them, saying something about the line of "Princes and knights have better things to do, do your job instead of listening to those silly things, Merlin, blah blah blah..."

Someone nudges his side with an elbow. Merlin looks up to see people stand and scatter, some gathering in small groups for a chat, others leaving the room for a breath of fresh air.

"It's a break," Arthur mutters, and sighs, sagging in his chair. "Finally. Merlin, I won't be needing you here anymore. Go and...clean my chambers. Scrub the floors. Or something. And stay there. The meeting should be over by lunchtime."

Merlin nods, thankful that soon he'll be able to rest his feet. The prince's request for him to stay in the chambers is a bit odd, but maybe by then Arthur will be too bored out of his mind to come up with any more duties for him and he'll be allowed to go home and rest. Sleep sound kind of nice...and he'll have time to search for his missing neckerchiefs.

"Yes, sire."

The prince glances at him as he leaves. Well, stares. At his neck. Merlin glances back at the prince slightly bewildered, he's not seen that kind of look of Arthur's face before...

He tries not to think about it. Should he think about it?

He does, for a short moment, but blushes horribly. No, it's better not to think about it.

()()()

Only, he doesn't get the chance to rest his feet. While walking through the corridor, he runs into sir Murchadh, and the knight smiles wide almost dazzling him and lays a hand on Merlin's elbow. The servant feels a bit uncomfortable about that. "Merlin," he says delightedly. His gaze isn't directly focused on Merlin's face, Merlin notices, more southward. "Are you leaving the meeting?"

"The prince wants me to clean his chambers, sir," Merlin says respectfully, reminding himself in the last minute the man is still a knight.

"Oh." Sir Murchadh sounds a bit disappointed. He's not talking to him at eye-level, which is odd to Merlin. Nobody this far has actually talked to him at eye-level. What was up with not looking him into the eye? It's getting quite annoying. "I hoped I'd be able to ... talk with you," the knight continues. "Someplace private...It won't take long..."

"Err, I'm not sure," Merlin says uncertainly, glancing at the wide doors beyond which Arthur was. Would the prat get into an awful mood if he took a detour to the prince's chambers?

The knight still hasn't let go of his elbow. And he keeps looking below his jaw-line ... It strikes Merlin as very odd. "Perhaps we could see each other later then?" sir Murchadh suggests. "We should meet at the tavern. It'll be my treat."

Merlin looks at him surprised. "That sound nice," he says but still hesitates, thinking about his low tolerance for alcohol and how he reacted last time in the tavern; he's been skittish about them for weeks all since the hiccough-accident. But he could only eat and talk and listen to the knight's stories, and stay away from the drinks: it'd be fine then, wouldn't it? He really wants to hear that story again. "I'll just have to check with Arthur if I could maybe take tonight off-"

Which is when Arthur conveniently steps into the corridor, sees them and freezes on the spot. A shadow crosses his face, turning into a frown and then he jerks into motion, speaking up at the same time. "Merlin, aren't you supposed to be at my chambers?"

"Yes, no, I mean - yes, but Murchadh-"

"Aren't you supposed to be at my chambers right now?"

Something in the tone strikes the knight as - well, there's something about it, and sir Murchadh looks between master and servant with a look of realization dawning on his face. Immediately he lets go of the elbow, jumping back, the expression on his face that of a man who's just been caught stealing from the royal kitchens by the head cook.

Merlin remains oblivious to the knight's reaction.

"...Yes."

The prince glares at him. Or more like his neck, not at his face. "Then what are you waiting for?"

"Oh, I was just talking with Murch-"

"-And not doing your job."

"Err...yes?"

Arthur still isn't talking to him at eye-level. Self-consciously Merlin brings up a hand to touch his neck while he speaks, and narrows his eyes slightly at the prince's sudden sharp intake of breath.

"Well then," Arthur says firmly, steadily, with the hint of a raised eyebrow; not a trace of the waver which was there a moment ago. But he has to avert his eyes momentarily from the sight of Merlin's long fingers sprawled across the milky white skin of his throat –it's terribly distracting. "Go on. Or would you prefer the stocks? I'm sure the people miss having someone to pelt rotten fruit at."

Merlin pouts just slightly (never admitting it, of course), then sighs. "Fine. I'll go and wash your royal socks, sire," he says, before sprinting off in the direction of the prince's chambers.

Sir Murchadh has slowly but steadily moved away from Merlin's side, as far as possible, because he recognizes the glint in the prince's eyes: it's the one which Arthur has in single combat when just about to maim you, and you both know he's going to totally win and smash you to bits. It's a look to fear. So the knight does what any wise man would do. "Err, I shall have to excuse myself, sire..."

"Of course."

The manservant totally misses the accomplished smirk on Arthur's face as the knight takes his leave.

()()()

"... Does anyone have anything to add?"

Silence.

"Then let us have a breather."

King Uther can practically see the gathered's relief ripple through the room like a wave. He's observant and not stupid, and he's seen how everyone's attention has appeared to waver today. It's that servant, the prince's manservant. Standing in the corner, near the prince's chair. A very disrespectful boy, though he has his moments, the king reflects. The boy always seems to throw himself into trouble and speak and act when he shouldn't, drawing so much attention to himself. There's something about him though: something the king cannot quite determine what it is. A sort of charm. Today especially king Uther has noticed this charm, like a magnet he's been drawn to the boy and been unable to fully look away.

I wonder if the boy will decide to not wear that distasteful thing around his neck again, Uther thinks, as the council members file out of the room, including his son. I'd have to object merely for the sake of this council. Perhaps I ought to refuse to let him in here anymore. He's too much a distraction for anyone to make any proper decisions.

()()()

"Uhm, any particular reason you've given me this?" Merlin asks curiously as he's handed a piece of cloth.

"Not really. Merely a ... precautionary measure."

"Err - what?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just keep it on during the hours of the day, it'll be fine."

"It's green," Merlin says in wonder, tying it around his neck, causing a very tense Arthur to finally (after eight hours of mental torture) relax his shoulders. "I've never worn that colour before."

Arthur looks at him critically. Closely. For a long while. Merlin wonders if the prat is starting to get a headache from thinking, when he suddenly speaks up.

"You look better without it," Arthur declares. "Take it off."

Merlin sighs in annoyance. He never should've told him he'd completely lost all of his neckerchiefs, just kept quiet and silently magicked up a new one, or something.

"All right. Fine. Can I go now? I'm tired." He gestures at the door, green neckerchief in one hand.

Typically, Arthur isn't looking at his face again.

"Arthur, I'm up here..."

"Hmm. Come over here."

Hesitantly, Merlin approaches, a bit wary since Arthur's been acting odd all day. Then he gasps in surprise when the prince grabs him, pulls him close and kisses his neck. He does other things too with his tongue and mouth which makes Merlin's knees weak, and he shivers and would've fallen into a boneless heap if not for the arms around his waist.

As he pulls back, the prince looks pleased. "I really wanted to do that." Then, he thrusts the green neckerchief back at Merlin, ordering him to put it back on. "Wouldn't want people to get any ideas," Arthur says, while tying the piece of cloth back on since the warlock doesn't respond.

Merlin isn't feeling very coherent, still in a daze from being touched like that.

()()()

Next morning, Merlin discovers there's a tender red love-bite right there on his neck, and is very glad for that green neckerchief despite the odd colour. He never wants to imagine the awkward talk with Gaius if the court physician sees that particular mark. Or gets to know the fact that he spent a whole night in Arthur's bed. A thought, which makes him blush.

"Where have you been? You didn't come back last night."

Merlin stares awkwardly down at the lumpy porridge which is breakfast.

"I. Uhm. Went to get a new neckerchief."

For some reason, Gaius doesn't seem to believe him.