Author's note: An early Christmas gift to you all! :D
If someone's confused about the order of these chapters ... There is no order! Each chapter is basically a small story of its own, and they're not connected to each other (unless I state otherwise). So to make it clear, in this one, Arthur knows about Merlin's magic (though it's not a big part of the story), Morgana hasn't completely joined the dark side yet, and Arthur/Gwen is nonexistent - well, as usual.
Um, warning for some swear words in this one. And it's fluffy and silly all the way through, maybe dangerously so. We've got oblivious!Merlin (as usual) and prat-in-love!Arthur (uhm, yeah, pretty much as usual as well - so maybe there's no need to tell you. Just, they're even more oblivious than usual, so yeah...).
Oh and has anyone seen 4x12 yet? Simpleton Arthur? Oh my god, it was so awesomely hilarious like nothing else in this season! Simpleton!Arthur and the tree - I shall never forget it. I could dedicate a whole fic to those scenes ... *gets attacked by rabid plot bunnies*
()()()
Things That Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do (According to Prince Arthur)
27: Not Notice Arthur's Wooing Woes
Determination. Courage. Strenght.
These traits are what he needs most right now. Arthur Pendragon of Camelot is a fighter, a prince, a leader. So of course he's got full control of these qualities. It's just - sometimes this control of them … wavers. Not much, mind you, not much at all! He's not weak in body nor mind; he's not a coward.
He's simply cautious, that's all.
This is, after all, Uther Pendragon; a man not renowned for his love to … abnormalities or break of formalities or magic or, well, anything of the sort. And Arthur has got to breach the subject slowly and carefully unless he wants people thrown in the dungeons. This is one of the reasons he's chosen to do this carefully, and inform the court first. To prepare them for the impact. Because Merlin is an idiot and of course would simply barge in, stubbornly claiming that "I can take care of myself, you prat, don't worry about me!" and other things like that and the court wouldn't be too pleased. Although if all other ways fail, Arthur could probably take Merlin and ride out in the woods and settle in a nice cottage somewhere and become a farmer (and let Merlin do the hard work).
He steps forward, slightly bolder. "Father, I have a request."
"Yes? Go on." The King has his nose buried in some Very Important Document, sparing his son just a short glance. "Go on, son." This is the fifth time this week, so Uther doesn't expect Arthur to say anything more, simply turn on his heels and rush out of the hall all of sudden as if chased by the devil. But this time, this Arthur shall not fail. He shall not hesitate. He shall not run away in (fear) sudden haste.
The prince clears his throat. "Father, I wish to marry."
"WHAT?" Uther exclaims abruptly with papers suddenly flying everywhere; the guards present in the room turns to look at the King as if he were crazy.
"Oh finally!" the king continues, leaping forward. "My son! My son, you're growing up, oh my boy, my little boy is going to finally take the hand of some beautiful, dimwitted princess, get a queen and have lots of children of their own for me to bounce on my knee, while I retell embarrasing stories from your childhood! Oh, how I have waited! I'm so proud of you, my boy! So proud!" With a sniff, Uther dries away some stray tears (of course they're just there completely by mistake; he got a fly or something in his eye, that's all) with a handkerchief. "You're making your papa so proud!"
Arthur awkwardly tries to dislodge the King from his shoulders, who now is bawling with happiness into the prince's shirt.
"Err. It's not quite ... not quite like that, father."
Immediately, Uther stiffens and leans back, no traces of immense happiness or tears of true joy. "It ... it isn't?" he asks, suddenly suspicious. His voice grows in strenght and annoyance: "Who is the princess you wish to marry, son? Who is the lucky lady? There must be one!" The tone changed into an angry, disappointed growl: "You better not have tried to fool your father, boy!"
The prince squirms slightly, trying to come up with some good way, without revealing too much, to tell his father that he won't marry a princess. Or a noble. Or even a woman. "Don't worry father! I do wish to marry. For real. The thing is - well, they're not exactly a princess..."
"...No?"
"...To start with, they're not even of noble blood..."
Uther looks completely devastated. "Wh-what? But, but all my plans! I was going to invite all kings and lords I know and have a great tea-party and everything, seeing you'd marry one of their daughters! My dinner seating plans are now ruined!"
"I'm sorry, father. But I'm adamant and will not change my mind - I will marry no other, for they are my soul, my heart, my everything."
The King looks deeply pained. "At least, tell me she's dimwitted but attractive and that she'll make a good Queen without confusing you too much."
Arthur nods dutifully. "Of course! My Queen shall be the best of Queens." As an afterthought, he adds; "Although sometimes, he's not as much of an idiot as he looks like."
Which is how King Uther gets to know his son wants to marry some peasant boy with some name Uther never will be able to properly remember. Gobsmacked, the King sinks into his throne chair and his forehead hits the table, hard.
Despite this reaction, it's quite calm to the many reactions Arthur has feared he'd recieve, so he stays calm and happy, with a giddy smile on his face, like an excited child in a candy store.
"Well, father?" he asks eagerly, bouncing on his heels. "Do I have your permission?"
Uther doesn't reply, merely keeps banging his head in the table. The stupid crown keeps getting in the way giving him this horrible, nasty headache.
Without hearing a clear 'no', Arthur grins (taking the silence as a 'yes') and makes a victory sign. "Yay!"
Now he can finally move onto the next step of the plan, which is the actual asking and getting married-part.
()()()
Merlin just doesn't seem to get it, sometimes. Well many times. The boy isn't stupid, well, not as stupid as most peasants but he's still oblivious and slow and irritating (about certain matters) and it's Arthur duty to put him straight (about these certain matters).
Arthur is determined, and he knows the art of wooing well – he realizes that measures needs to be taken. Well, at least he's heard a lot from various people in his surroundings and they can't all be wrong. Gifts, sweet words and kind actions are always good to make your message come across. He's the prince so he can make sure to get his hands of almost anything extravagant. And he can plan and make a grand festival or tournament or something else like that, rousing the whole city. Arthur thinks hard. There must be some big event he can use to his advantage, to show off his manly prowess. That's the key. He needs to show Merlin he's the best, strongest man around to give Merlin an unyielding urge to throw himself in Arthur's manly arms, giving no room for doubt.
There's been talk of a white deer in the woods. And Arthur is going to catch it. Not only would the people of Camelot congratulate him on his prowess, but Merlin must have to be so proud, for the prince to have tracked, found and shot such a rare creature. Right? Of course. Besides, hunting is traditional.
"We're going hunting? Again?" Merlin groans in annoyance. "You're such an insufferable prat."
Arthur is certain that means 'You're such a handsome prince, gift me well and I shall bestow you with a kiss from my beautiful lips.' - and he smiles at the servant brilliantly. "Yep!"
Horses are saddled and a few guards gathered, to help him locate the deer (hello? Prince of Camelot here. It's not like he'll go out hunting alone when he can have dozens of people helping him out.) They meet up in the courtyard. Merlin, naturally, is complaining again. About his cold feet (if he just asks, Arthur will gladly warm them for him) and the uncomfortable weather (were he able, Arthur would make it law for the sun to shine and the forests always be full of flowers, so that Merlin will be pleased) and that Arthur is a prat (which Arthur is certain means 'Let me kiss you breathless, Your Pratliness').
When everone else have mounted their horses and secured their gear, ready to leave, the servant has yet to drag himself up the saddle. He puts his foot in the stirrup, but the horse steps slightly to the side and Merlin ends up falling in a heap. Onlookers look amused and a couple of them laughs at the servant's clumsiness, except the prince who rushes forward with a concerned look on his face.
"Let me," Arthur says and before Merlin can protests he lays his hands on Merlin's waist and helps him into the saddle. It's not that bad, Merlin quietly admits, but he grumbles under his breath anyway,; he's not some weak clumsy damsel who can't take care of himself! Plus, there's no bloody reason for Arthur to keep smiling like a simpleton.
()()()
The forest is full of chippering birds. It takes many, many hours before there's a sign of anything. Merlin has (for the eighth time) asked if they could turn back now, please, my bum is getting numb, when suddenly there's movement between the trees. The whole party freezes up and Arthur raises his crossbow, takes careful aim at a patch of white ... and lets the bolt fly.
A few minutes later, Arthur comes to regret that action deeply.
"I can't believe you shot that rabbit - it was completely defenceless and innocent! You never gave it a chance! You stupid, stupid selfish dollophead!"
Arthur feels his chest squeeze in pain at Merlin distress. So instead of ordering the creature to be made into some hot, nice stew, he makes sure the guards take it to some peaceful green glade to give it a proper burial. Merlin cries a little and puts a flower on the mound, insisting that they name the bunny so it can be remembered through all of time (one of the knights comes up with the brilliant suggestion 'Ben the Bunny that was slayed by Prince Arthur' and Merlin only cries harder) and Arthur feels bad the whole journey home. He tries to make up to it, talking nicely and compliementing Merlin's ears, but the servant refuses to speak with him for the rest of the day, and when they finally arrive at Camelot empty-handed, Merlin slides off his horse with strange anger-triggered grace, marching off before Arthur has the chance to say anything.
So, obviously hunting is out of the question. Arthur had thought this was a safe card: the idiot has always liked small furry things, but apparently he doesn't like being presented their small furry bodies as gifts.
But, no worries; the brave prince will not be deterred! Arthur already has another plan in mind. And this time it's the ultimate plan and it shall definitely not fail.
()()()
A few days later:
"For heaven's sake, someone wring the neck of that bloody cat!" King Uther growls when for the third morning in the row he can't eat his breakfast in peace, even if the windows are closed and sealed tightly and he's ordered the servants to be as loud and busty as physically possible. "I'll soon go mad with this racket going on!"
The nearest servant rushes forward to refill his wine cup, ducking to avoid being hit in the head.
No one dares to tell His Highness it's not a cat in its death throes but rather the king's own son standing below one of the caste towers singing his woos (and, as of late, woes) at the top of his lungs pleading for attention but there's an idiot who seem to be deaf as well as dumb, and the prince as obviously inherited his father's extreme stubbornness (and confidence in these matters) so he refuses to stop.
No one except Gaius that is, who, in his special it's best to break matters slowly sire but I'm afraid it's MAGIC! but take it cool, man-voice, explains to Uther that prince Arthur has suffered a blow in the head (HE'S MADLY BADLY DEEPLY HEAD OVER HEELS WITH AN IDIOT) and might've forgotten proper manners for a moment (HE'D DO ANYTHING TO SHAG WITH SAID IDIOT) and the shrieking in pain, err, he means to say singing is there because of this sudden urge to (PUSH HIS MANSERVANT AGAINST NEAREST FLAT SURFACE AND GO AT IT LIKE BUNNIES IN HEAT) boast of his manly prowess and all that, but, don't worry sire, I'm sure it'll pass (I'LL HAVE A SERIOUS WORD WITH MY WARD SHORTLY) soon and we can have some peace and quiet (AND MAYBE SOME GRANDCHILDREN TO LOOK FORWARD TO, THAT'D BE NICE).
The king reacts kingly and regally with a very kingly and regal snort.
"A blow in the head - again?" Uther mutters, taking another deep gulp of red wine. "Don't you have some miracle medicine to cure him?" he asks because he's seriously concerned for his son even if said son probably has made Camelot's court minstrels hastily flee the kingdom, their musical bones rattling in true fear.
Gaius response is adamant and solemn: "I am working on it, sire."
"Get it fixed."
()()()
At the same time, Merlin is lying curled up on his bed, covers and pillows pulled tightly over his head. "Argh. Has is stopped yet? Has it stopped? Oh please someone make it stop," he mutters, unable to hear his own voice because of all the fabric, but somehow the strong but muffled wailing sounds still manage to reach his ears.
Honestly, he's never heard a sound like this before, and it's both frightening and annoying, and he hopes Arthur's all right; hopefully the prince hasn't acted like an idiot and gone out to challenge or fight whoever is making that sound, because then Merlin would have to deal with a deaf (or partially deaf) prince and that would be hell. Unless Merlin does deaf first which would by now be quite nice. Not nice nice, but quite. At least he'd not have to deal with this horrible, horrible noise.
()()()
"Sire, if I may have a word with you?"
The prince freezes in his pose, hands up and mouth open on a long, drawn-out, off-key high E, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the peasants aren't bowing/clapping hands enthusiastically (because most peasants have cleared the area, seeking refuge in the kingdom's outlying villagers).
This wooing thing is tricky business and his throat is all raw, but Arthur is certain this will pay off well in the near future, so it doesn't matter. 'Tis but a show of a true man's strength and honour! Also, of politeness as he kindly pauses to let the physician speak: surely his beloved one will be impressed by his perfect blend of hard and soft.
Yes, Merlin shall be awed; indeed, so much he should any minute now glance out of his tiny window by the top of the tower smiling with glee at seeing who the singer is, the one who - with such wonderful words praising Merlin's beauty - serenades below, and admire his prince: his Perfect Golden Hair and Loveable Voice and Shining Armour. And the boy will happily fling himself in Arthur's very manly, strong arms and they shall ride into the sunset – forever together, joined, in a great Kingdom or a tiny woodland cottage if so Merlin prefers with a small patch of land, wherein Arthur shall be King and beside his throne shall his Queen sit, and they shall be by destiny forever entwined, preferably in intimate ways of the flesh with warmth spreading through their coupled bodies, and … Yes – soon. Very, very soon.
Ahem, ahem, sounds at his right and Arthur startles, realizing that Gaius is still standing there looking at him pointedly.
"Yes, Gauis?"
"I would advice another tactic."
"Oh? But this is working fine. It is. Fine."
Gaius gives the man a pointed look. "He's very fond of flowers."
"Is he?" The physician nods. A grin spreads over Arthur's face in glee. "That's brilliant!"
()()()
The following morning, Camelot's population is fairly sane again, thanks to the final halt of the Horrible Unspeakable Noise, and there are only a few lingering headaches that Gaius can remedy with some odd purple substance.
"Morning," Merlin says, hesitantly, as he enters the prince's chambers with a tray with breakfast, but halting on the doorstep. "What are all those doing here?" he asks next, wide-eyed.
"Can't you see?" Arthur cries in response, throwing out his arms, exasperated.
"Of course I do, I'm not stupid! I just wondered, you've never liked flowers. You hate flowers. And now your chambers are filled with them. They're very pretty though ..." Beffudled with this new mystery, Merlin steps deeper into the room and inhales the scents. However, he regrets inhaling so deeply when he sneezes.
Arthur immediately by his side, a hand on his back. "They-they are?" Suddenly, the prince doesn't sound angry, irritated or like a prat. No, there's a hint of bashfulness, nervousness. "You like them?"
"Yeah, sure." He sneezes again, feeling his eyes water and starting to itch.
Arthur still looks doubtful. "Truly? Merlin, do you appreciate them or are you just being polite?"
"They're nice. They are! It's just, I-a-aa-achoo! The blue ones there. I'm ... I'm allergic to them."
Of course Arthur has filled his chambers to the width with blue flowers, because the colours matches his beloved's eyes perfectly. Now, seeing the servants reaction, he blanches, horrified, and rushes forward to draw Merlin into his arms, into safety.
"I'll you out of here, my fair one!" the prince cries like he's going defeat a dragon, sword in hand - "And I'll see to that these chambers are cleaned from this horrendous occurence."
Merlin looks at him as if the prince suddenly has grown a second head.
And, Arthur quietly adds to himself, he'll make sure that someone to hurry and remove the large blue bouquet he's ordered to be left in Merlin's room.
()()()
"Why didn't you tell me he's allergic to those stupid blue ones?" thunders the prince, upset and outraged. "Now my beloved is sick! It didn't work, it didn't bloody work!"
"If I may suggest, sire, you might find the results more pleasing if you are more ... direct in your approach (Merlin isn't that bright). Be gentle, though, because if you hurt my ward I'll poison your food and make you bald and give you spots that shall never go away," Gaius says in a completely natural tone.
The prince nods in earnestly, and grins widely. "Thank you, Gaius! That's the most brilliant idea ever!"
And he turns on his heel, running over the threshold like a man possessed (which he kind of is). Gaius turns back to the potion he's boiling, sighing. "Heavens, if this doesn't end soon I'll have to ask Uther for a vacation," the old man mutters to himself. "A long vacation, by the sea or some foreign village where I could put my mind off things."
()()()
"O, woe is me, woe is me," crieth a young handsome prince as he stands on his balcony, his heart shattering into tiny fragments which no one now possibly could glue together, even if the glue were strong and magical. "What have I, the strongest, handsomest and bravest of prince, done to deserve this punishment, this horror? Be forced to endure this everlasting cruel pain ... My heart is bleeding out ... A dangerous road I have trekked for you, O, my fair one - spare me my suffering, end it, I beg of you, for you are my only and my all, what completes me; the other side of my coin - Who's written this? This is like, awesome and spot on and everything! - Let me plant my seed in your fields of love, to bloom, to-"
Behind him, there's a snort, and a lady appears in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at the prince who is kneeling in front of a broom. "Honestly. You need to learn to keep your voice down. (Do you want my high heel in your groin?)
Arthur looks up at her and glowers, and kicks the book (which he's absolutely not been reading out loud from) underneath the bed. "You saw and heard nothing!" he hisses, because this is a secret operation so that he can surprise and awe his beloved. "Nothing!"
The lady looks at him quite bored. "Sure, whatever, Arthur. Just get on with it before we all go crazy."
()()()
He knocks heavily on the door. After a couple of moments, it opens with a creak, candlelight spilling onto the corridor floor: Arthur takes his pose and a deep breath, glancing just briefly at the note in his hand. "O, woe is me-"
"Sire," a very tired Gaius says. "It's too early for this."
"Oh. Hello Gaius, may I see Merlin?" Arthur asks, chipper and bright despite the fact that the sun hasn't risen yet. His hair is unruly thanks to being up all night and practicing.
The physician gives him a Look, which could mean I'm THIS close to giving you a terrible fate (insert murderous glare). It's very much like the glaring warning the prince recieved a few days prior, and maybe Gaius thinks Arthur is going to take Merlin's virtue and then leave the boy alone and heartbroken, and the old man is only doing his duty as a fatherly mentor - which of course is an outrageous suggestion; Arthur would never hurt Merlin like that. Or, more possibly, it's just a look that says Disturb my sleep again and I shall cut off your ... Well, those, and Arthur is quite fond of them where they are right now.
"Just for a moment?" Arthur makes his best hurt-puppy-look, hands clasped together. "...Pretty pretty please?"
The door is shut dangerously close to the prince's royal nose.
()()()
No one in the castle approves of the doves. They keep crapping everywhere and his father no longer deems it safe to leave the hall. Plus, just five minutes before Arthur's carefully planned grand performance, one of the bloody birds flies off with the ring. Stupid birds. There's a reason why they're not kept around! So, the prince spends a whole afternoon running up and down the city with most of the knights on his heels, who have joined him in his very dangerous quest of finding the astray beasts (who all flee at the sight of the armoured men).
On the other hand, when Merlin sees them he cooes and pats their heat because for some reason the birds seem to like him too; one even lands on his outstreched hand when he's fetching water from the well. But even when one bird circles him with a golden ring with the Pendragon insignia on it in its talons, the boy doesn't get it. He just accepts the jewelry and murmurs, "Oh, it's Arthur's, he must've dropped it ... Thank you, birdie, for finding it."
Hurriedly he then finds Arthur, gives him the ring explaining that he found it in the courtyard - amazingly enough a dove actually flew down to give it to him like it knew it was Arthur's and had gone missing! "Here you go, sire," Merlin says and places the ring in Arthur's hand and then starts to walk away to fetch that water, humming quietly to himself, oblivious and happy.
Arthur facepalms and falls into the mud, getting his armour all dirty.
Even the doves seem to shake their heads in pity.
()()()
A direct approach. It's what Gaius said wasn't it? So, Arthur has finally decided to make a direct approach. But he doesn't want to be insensitive, or too forward, in the books the prince/lord/knight is always gentlemanly about these things, and full of praise and serenades.
Which is difficult.
"Have you ever thought about…you know. Bonds? To certain people. Not bonds ... bonds. But. Traditional stuff."
Arthur isn't babbling. Of course. He's the prince and prince's doesn't babble. If he's got a churning feeling in the bottom of his stomach, well, that's got nothing to do with it. He's not nervous. Of course.
"Huh?" Merlin looks up from where he's folding the prince's newly washed underwear. "Uhm, yeah, I guess …" he says not really understanding what Arthur's getting on. The prince is often rather straight to the point, and doesn't walk around the subject.
Arthur's back straightens a little, and he puts down his fork. He might need to be more frank then, seeing all of his further plans have failed one way or another. Maybe Merlin is just playing hard to get? Or he is hard to get. Either way, Arthur is set on having him. "Well I've thought … sometimes, that it'll be lonely. I mean, when I'm King," he says, some kind of serious tone slipping into the corners of his voice, "I'm going to need - people around me, support."
"But you do have it. You're not lonely," Merlin assures him and gives him a brilliant smile. "The people love you already, and you've got their support. You'll make a great King."
"Yeah, I suppose, but that's not the point," Arthur stresses and then the stern formal tone slips, replaced by a hint of nervousness and Merlin feels his eyebrows rising involuntarily (must be Gaius' influence!) because Arthur's never nervous."That is not what I truly desire. I want something – something more … special. Like. I don't know, more than a rider needs a horse."
An inquiring, disapproving look, the hint of a frown is sent his way - but still Merlin manages to look disbelieving. It's amazing sometimes how expressive Merlin's face can be, the slight wrinkles around his mouth, his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks and other small adorable details like that which Arthur keeps noticing. It's quite distracting.
"Have you been down with Gwaine at the Rising Sun again?"
"No! Of course not. I'm serious, Merlin. When I'm King I'm going to need a – a companion, steady by my side, and I do now as well. Heirs wouldn't be that bad either, but there are cousins too so it's not a problem really. You know what I mean don't you?"
"…H-heirs?"
"A Queen, Merlin," Arthur clarifies. "I need a Queen." His eyes flicker over at Merlin (in a way he hopes will convey the message of Let's shag until dawn breaks!).
Merlin looks devastated. It's the kind of utterly-heartbroken-and-devastated-trying-to-hide-it, a sort Arthur has seen on Merlin once or twice and the sight hurts so badly, his heart feels like crushing in his chest, a weight pressing on his lungs painfully; and he wants to pull the warlock into a safe warm embrace and tell him it'll be all right, patting his soft-looking hair and adorable ears.
The warlock looks back at him insecurely, breath hitching. "Oh," he whispers, and his eyes glaze with tears, and suddenly, before Arthur has time to stop him, the servant turns on his heels and flees. He's out of the room within a second, the chamber doors slamming shut behind him right as the prince hears a sob.
"Merlin!" Arthur shouts after him running from the table to the door, but the servant is long gone. "Merlin!"
No response.
Damn. Damn damn damn damn. He's fucked up. Majorly.
He's such a fool! He shouldn't have put it that way! What did Merlin think? That Arthur was pushing him away? Oh fuck, oh fuck. He needs to fix this quick. What if Merlin's had enough now and decides to leave?
()()()
Owowow.
Morgana's got a bloody strong fist.
"You better make this right," she growls (calling him some obscene things that Uther would be aghast at hearing from his ward) - Arthur doesn't argue.
He walks straight to Gaius' chambers.
()()()
Merlin is such an idiot. Arthur thinks the message should've gotten across by now but no, no, Merlin is stubborn and obvious and has to run off before Arthur can get to the point or go down on one knee front of him properly and things like that.
His chest stings at the thought, something like guilt rising up his throat making him sick. Merlin had been really upset – the warlock tried to hide it, but Arthur saw the tears in his eyes. And Arthur wants to hit himself for hurting his warlock in such a manner, or any manner: damn it, he's supposed to be honourable and a good friend and Merlin's lover! He really deserves Morgana's anger.
But Merlin is so stubborn. He won't listen.
And he's got magic too, damn it, so no matter how much Arthur pushes at/kicks at/tries to hack it down with his sword, the stupid door won't budge an inch.
"Merlin," he says again, breathing into the wood, pleading - "Merlin, please listen to me."
Silence wraps thick around him and he hears muffled sounds of shifting from inside, but no answer. But his heart feels heavy, things have turned out all wrong and it's his fault, and he's not sure he can ever make this right. What if Merlin refuses to face him again? What if -?
"Merlin," he pleads, crumbling to his knees, clawing at the door; "Just hear me out. Please. Please? Merlin?"
More shuffling, hesitant footsteps nearing the door.
"I … What I said was wrong. I shouldn't have put it that way, shouldn't have hurt you like that. I didn't mean to hurt you! You're an amazing, wonderful person and I'm not sure if I deserve someone as kind, beautiful and in all ways incredible as you – what I said, I didn't mean it like that. Not like you think. I," Arthur's breath hitches with emotion he's not used to have, crawling beneath his skin dangerously close to his heart; before Merlin came wandering into his life with that carefree grin and big ears, Arthur never felt anything like this. It was breathtaking and frightening and so wonderful at the same time. "I … Merlin, I never want you to leave my side."
And then, "I'm sorry."
And finally, "Please, stay with me. At my side. When I'm King … all I need by my side is you."
And finally, finally Merlin gets it. The door is wrenched open, and before Arthur can react his arms are full of sobbing, laughing warlock and after a moment of hitching breaths, somewhere between tears and laughter, Merlin places a kiss right on the prince's mouth; the kiss is eagerly returned and lasts for a second and a lifetime, and Arthur doesn't mind at all when they somehow stumble into the warlock's bedroom, falling onto the bed in a heap of entwined limbs.
"You dollophead," Merlin murmurs against Arthur's cheek, relief making his face brighter. "You stupid, stupid dollophead. I thought you ... that someone else was ... not me! Oh, you prat! You just could've asked."
He smiles. If Merlin wants a question, then a question he'll have. "Merlin," Arthur asks breathlessly, "will you marry me?"
()()()
"You're certain, Gwen?" Morgana asks, setting down her comb.
"Positive," her handmaiden replies.
"Finally. Uther should be happy about this." Gwen gives her an inquiring look. The lady continues; "He's tried to get Arthur together with some foreign princess for years. Now he will finally realize why all attempts have failed so utterly."
"Because the prince is a prat?" Gwen asks playfully.
Morgana smirks knowingly, casting a short thought back at her most recent Dreams - she's known about this for months now, and waited not so patiently. The boys really are slow. "Because he's a moron in love with an idiot."
()()()
And so it comes to be, that the wedding of Prince Arthur of Camelot and His Manservant/Warlock takes place a gorgeously sunny summer day and they live happily ever after, soon as King and Queen of Camelot, completely ignoring the hair-pulling, teeth-gnashing former King Uther who watches resignedly from the sidelines as Albion is transformed into a great blooming magical Kingdom, a land full of rainbows, flowers and unicorns and happy baby dragons playing fetch with the castle guards. (Or something like that.)