Things That Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do (According to Prince Arthur)
28: Place Bunches of Mistletoe Anywhere Around The Castle (Or Stand Under Them)

The city is alight with candles and thick, white snow. There's not a single window filled with the warm light from a hearth or dozens of candles; the taverns are full of singing, drinking people, and the streets covered in a matt of happy chattering people, exchanging gifts and friendly, loving words.

The merry mood hasn't escaped the castle. As seeing how stiff the whole court seems to be about any kind of Yuletide business (he's not even heard the word 'Yule' be mentioned a single time!) Merlin has taken it upon himself to lighten the mood and prepare a wonderful, unforgettable Yuletide Feast. With his cheerful smile and friendly nature it's easy to convince some other servants and even some knights to help him out. Gwen is equally excited (okay, maybe not equally, but nearly as much) and agrees that the castle has been too gloomy as of late.

With her and many other willing people's help, in a fortnight Merlin manages to transform Camelot's castle from a place made out of quiet, relatively empty corridors to a light-filled, heavily decorated centre of merrymaking: there's laughter, music, smell of good food and smiles everywhere you turn, and Merlin has made sure to put up garlands in every corridor.

Garlands which he's made mostly himself, since, despite how much they want to help, Gwaine and the rest of the knights have rather clumsy hands. Lancelot tries bravely, but messes up and makes something very disorderly every time. Gwaine brings ale whenever they meet to make preparations and end up cracking bad jokes, sing tavern songs (which makes Merlin's ears red in embarrassment) and fall asleep beneath one of the tables (typically). Percival almost rips every decoration apart (by mistake) due to his big, muscled arms, but he's very tall and can reach easily to places others can't, so Merlin sets him and sir Leon (who's slightly more trustable than the rest) to put up things in the taller ceilings.

Of course, Arthur doesn't first agree with the whole plan. It's stupid and childish, he says, it's not a job of Camelot's court to house such a silly feast. Even if he in his heart longs for it and would do anything to see Merlin's wide happy smile and twinkling eyes directed at him ...

But it's childish. And stupid. And silly. And not something for the Prince of Camelot to indulge in.

His father won't agree, Arthur argues. But Uther passes by timely to speak with Gaius, to see the physician's chambers flooded with laughing talking knights and servants occupied with making colourful ribbons, and once a nervous Merlin explains to the king what's going on (and that they're not some kind of underground conspiracy - the king is often worried about stuff like that), Uther smiles (which is a rather creepy look on him, in Merlin's opinion) and looks quite delighted - and when the king okays it, Arthur throws himself into the preparations wholeheartedly.

As said, he'll do anything to make Merlin happy. Even if he has to make silly garlands and bunch together greens and reds and hang them all-over the castle. His heart leaps every time Merlin flashes a grateful look or smile at him or hugs him, especially that time when Merlin pressed a quick kiss to his cheek when the prince saved a newly decorated Yule-tree from being crushed by Percival.

The kitchens are also very busy: making all kinds of delicious food, cakes and sweets. Merlin soon has his hands full, wondering why he decided to take on all this, because it's a lot of work to do and he's soon out of time. He wants to make it all perfect, but he still hasn't managed to get gifts for his friends. He's not sure what to give Arthur - the prat has so much and anything Merlin could afford him pales in comparison; Merlin hasn't got money to buy him anything particularly nice or beautiful or rich. What would Arthur like anyway? he wonders. Maybe he should bake him something, or get him a new sword or another weapon, or a horse ... Although Arthur has a lot of weapons and horses already.

Trying to take his mind off that worrying, kind of stressful matter for a moment, Merlin decides to put together a bunch of mistletoes and hang them at various places around the castle. He's just finished placing one in the doorway to the armoury, when sir Bors passes by with Arthur in tow; the men's conversation halts at seeing Merlin, greeting him enthusiastically. Bors pauses right in front of the servant.

Right under the mistletoe.

"Merlin," Arthur says, "What's that?" Pointing at the green bunch.

"Oh, it's mistletoe. For, you know, that tradition; when two people meet under it ... You know?"

The prince looks at him blankly.

"So, you don't know?" Merlin guesses, quirking an eyebrow.

"Allow me to demonstrate," sir Bors says and before Merlin can protest, the knight has leaned down and kissed him. Full and hard on the lips.

Which is not a good idea when it's front of the Crown Prince of Camelot, but sir Bors rather new and isn't that experienced about the relationship Arthur has to his manservant and thus isn't aware of the Unspoken Rule that most other knights know about - or that most of Camelot knows about right now.

Which is why the knight looks confused like a kicked puppy when a red-eyed Arthur wrenches him and Merlin apart and kicks Bors in a - let's say a painful place.

Dazed, Merlin catches sight of the prince's furious face and the knight's pained grimace. "Arthur!" Merlin cries, grabbing Arthur's arm and pulling him away before he can seriously injure the knight. "Calm down!"

"But he - he - you - he kissed you!"

"It didn't mean anything," Merlin says, his ears red, though he's kind of upset too because he never gave that knight permission to - to do that! But if he shows how upset he is, he'll make Arthur even angrier, and then all that'll be left of the knight is a pile of broken bones. And though he's not happy about Bors' actions, Merlin doesn't want the man half-dead and Arthur screaming bloody murder. "It's just when you meet someone under the mistletoe you've got to kiss them. It's a rule. But I-I'm fine, you don't have to mash him into meatpie! Stop it!"

Eventually, the prince releases the knight, who quickly flees the area.

Arthur glares at the bunch of green. And reaches for his sword. And raises the weapon aiming at the stupid kissing bunch, causing a stem to fall off.

"No! Wait! Don't do that - I've spent hours putting all of them together!"

"All - all of them?" the prince chokes, eyes widening, his face turning slightly white. "There are more?"

Merlin nods, a bit uncertainly. "Yeah, well, just a couple of them. Err, one by the great hall, one in the east wing corridor, and in the northern tower: I put one by the stables too. And ..."

"And...?"

"And one by the entrance to your chambers."

"That's all of them?"

Merlin nods, exhaling deeply; hopefully Arthur will have calmed down now. "Yeah." He doesn't mention the other eight he's nearly finished with and haven't had time to put up yet.

At which, the prince proceeds to run across the whole castle and tear down each one of those damned green bundles. Merlin runs after him yelling, calling him a prat and dollophead and people turn their heads as they pass them by, eyebrows rising.

"Wait! Arthur! Stop!"

Huffing for breath, Merlin manages to catch up with the prince by the entrance to the great hall: running into him actually, since Arthur stops abruptly. "How the hell did you get it up there?" Arthur demands to know pointing at the mistletoe, hanging some four feet above their heads.

"Percival helped me out."

If it was physically possible, Arthur's head would've popped like an overblown balloon. "Excuse me while I go and turn a certain knight into shreds," he growls, hefting his sword.

"Arthur!" Merlin cries out, annoyed at the prince's pratheadness, grabbing his arm before the prince can walk off. "You can't do that. Listen, calm down. If you're going to be mad at anyone about this, it's me - it was my idea to put them up. I made them. I'm all to blame."

The prince glances at the servant. And try as he might, it's very difficult to become mad at Merlin or stay mad at him for very long. Arthur narrows his eyes, brow wrinkling into a frown, and he really tries. To calm down. Breathe. Blame Merlin for his stupid idea about putting up stupid mistletoes all-over the castle and get kissed by stupid knights. Arthur tries really hard. But Merlin looks so pitiful and pleading and is still holding onto his arm, and Arthur just can't be mad at him. It's easier to blame Bors or Percival or the rest of the castle's staff and by angry with them.

"Damn it," he grumbles, averting his eyes. If he lets them linger on Merlin any longer, he might just forget about all else and start kissing him and that would definitely lead to other things, things which they shouldn't in the middle of an open corridor. At least an open corridor filled with people.

(Not that Arthur really minds that much if they do it on the floor or against the wall in a corridor or in the stables or the hall or his chambers, or Merlin's chamber, or in a private tower somewhere in the castle, or in the soft grass of a green meadow half a mile outside Camelot with the warlock writhing beneath him and moaning his name, or…)

Well. Err. Now people are starting to look at him oddly and he's supposed to be angry at those infuriating mistletoe bunches, not think of the various places and ways he'd rather have Merlin, say, in his naked vicinity and right now. He tries to stop thinking about that, and about methods of making Merlin think of the same things and stop himself from latching onto the warlock and kiss him senseless … which is difficult. Very, very difficult.

Okay – irritation. He should be able to do that. Yeah. If Merlin could stop giving him that kicked-lost-puppy look, that is.

But Arthur doesn't run off, and he slowly eases the death grip of his sword, letting it slide back in its sheathe.

"See?" Merlin says with a loop-sided grin. "Not so hard was it."

Arthur sighs, forcing himself to stand still and not think about the stupid mistletoe ... He gazes into Merlin's beautiful eyes, to distract himself, unconsciously raising a hand to rest on Merlin's hip. "Yeah..."

"Arthur, Merlin!" a happy voice cuts through their moment. Suddenly every eye in the hall turns toward the entrance.

"What, Gwaine?" Arthur asks.

"What're you waiting for? Go for it, princess!"

The prince glares at him. "What are you on about?"

The knight grins and points at the mistletoe, which conveniently is hanging right above the prince and the servant's heads. When noticing it, Merlin blushes scarlet. "Arthur," he mumbles, fidgeting with his neckerchief. "Sh-should we... in front of all these people...?"

Arthur continues to glare at the knight sternly for a moment. Then, making a decision, he holds Merlin still with one hand and grabs the large door handle with the other, pulling it closed shut. Firmly. And then the other door. A chorus of disappointed "Oohs" ripples through the crowd (well, mostly coming from Gwaine) as they can barely catch a glimpse of the prince and his servant fiercely kissing and embracing with hands suddenly wandering everywhere and their eyes closed in bliss - before the wood covers them from view completely.

"Damn it," Morgana mutters, ignoring Gwen's incredulous look at hearing her mistress' language. "I thought they'd finally dare do it in the open. Merlin's right, Arthur truly is an arrogant prat."

()()()

The kissing does eventually lead to … other things. Merlin is rather thankful, though, he manages to wobble back to Arthur's chambers, shaking and moaning and clinging to his prince just almost too weak to stand, before that happens, Arthur's hands and tongue really doing magic.

"Stupid mistletoe," Arthur mutters through gritted teeth as he struggles with the stubborn lacings of Merlin's trousers, "shouldn't be allowed."

"I-I don't really mind them," Merlin replies breathlessly, wriggling to get free of the restricting garment, "they're nice. Pretty. Nice." The words are slightly jumbled and feeble and he really wants Arthur to move back his hands were they were a second before, skin tingling, managing to make a noise of displeasure. Which is kind of ignored.

"I'm the only one allowed to touch or kiss you or anything else with you. I'm making a law," Arthur continues firmly, "against stupid mistletoes hanging where random people can touch my property."

"W-well, umm," the warlock moans, his breath hitching, and leans into the touches, begging with his eyes to the prince to take your clothes off damn it! don't leave me suffering here alone!, because Arthur hasn't been this prattish and excruciating for weeks, it's totally unfair, and why does Arthur have to mention mistletoes when Merlin would prefer his tongue doing something else? He wants to call him a dollophead, but the words leave him, and it takes a moment to remember what he'd meant to say in the first place - "Okay then. Sounds fair."