Author's note: You know, when I started writing this story, I never thought it'd get over 90k words (or get this popular!), since I first planned it to contain short chapters – and not that many to be honest. I realize now that I must somehow put a stop to this craziness and write the last sentence of this story, I hate leaving things hanging. So I've got a few more chapters sketched out (can't tell you exact numbers yet) but I'm also planning on some kind of epilogue. I just need to get a nudge, and not keep postponing. I'd like to write something more serious next - I actually have an idea going; one however that might not be accepted here at .
I know you don't like author's notes, but please, take a minute to read this announcement.
AS I'VE JUST RECENTLY BEEN NOTIFIED OF THE MASSIVE AMOUNT OF STORIES BEING TAKEN DOWN HERE AT , I'LL FROM NOW ON BE MORE CAREFUL IN MY POSTS, KNOWING THERE'S A RISK OF SOMEONE TAKING OFFENCE AND THUS HAVING MY STORIES REMOVED. I've known about the rule that's been in place since 2002, but there are ratings for a reason and authors usually state warnings pretty clearly, so I can't understand why they have to take these measures all of a sudden. I backup all of my stories (and reviews), and now might start posting somewhere else, since some of my stories mightn't reach the "standard", so to speak. Please bear with me until I find a reasonable alternative. As much as I like , its usability and all of the amazing writers and works out there, the limitations of the site cannot be ignored.
I'M UPPING THE RATINGS OF MY STORIES. They all already have warnings in place and, I hope, proper ratings, but now several of them have been upped one level. No readers should be surprised/shocked at my stories' content; I state the pairings and warnings quite clearly from the start. I'M STAYING AT UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE - it's a pain having to build up a profile from scratch and put all of my stories on empty slots. However, my Merlin fics are available at my DeviantArt (my profile name is 'Itar94', same as here), in case anything happens. Other fics of mine in other categories/fandoms might appear there soon as well. THIS FIC CAN BE FOUND THERE. (I'm not going to stop posting new chapters or stories here all of a sudden. In fact I have a new fic (Merthur!) on the way…)
DUE TO THIS, THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN ALTERED A BIT FROM HOW I ORIGINALLY WROTE IT, and I'm posting it in wariness, hoping the story will survive. Though there's nothing truly explicit in this story, there are … "nibbles" of adult content, and it's rated M – and a rating (and warnings) SHOULD keep away those who don't like it/aren't old enough to read it, anyway.
It's saddening to see so many awesome stories and authors already being removed or leaving this vast archive of fanfiction stories.
Warnings/Spoilers for this chapter: This will contain genderswap so if you're uncomfortable with that, don't read further. (But from a humorous point of view.) And UST. It also assumes Arthur and the rest knows of Merlin's magic. No detailed spoilers, just general ones of seasons 3-4. This chapter also got ridiculous long – some 11k words. The ending … I'm not all that happy with it. I had NO IDEA how to write it, to be honest, I just came up with something utterly ridiculous and went with it.
()()()
Things That Merlin Isn't Allowed To Do (According to Prince Arthur)
34: Anger Crazy Pixies
The meeting with the pixies is a total accident.
They're rather cute actually, with the sparkles and vibrant colours and dancing lights and tiny fluttering wings. But – and there's always a 'but' – their use of language, well, it makes Merlin's ears red with embarrassment, and their sense of humour is darker than the deepest starless night. Lastly, they've got some nasty, nasty temper.
Note to self: never anger a pixie.
Merlin never meansto stumble on that root and never means to crash straight onto one of their tea parties and ruin those flower decorations. He never sees or senses them or anything beforehand; with his bad luck, it just happens!
Desperately he tries to explain himself and make plausible excuses, hands flailing and cheeks flushed red, apologizing over and over and over. But the pixies won't listen and they're very, very angry now, and when one of them raises its pink wand-stick-thingy in his direction and starts the spell, there's no time to react with a counter spell. A white light wraps around him and all Merlin can think is 'Ohno,I'm—'
()()()
It's been over two bloody hours now. Arthur is a tad bit annoyed with that stupid manservant of his. They've been to this forest hundreds of times; how could Merlin have gotten lost – again? Stupid manservant. Really, if not for those ears, Arthur would never let him come with him on hunts in the forest. (And possibly have him fired already.) He always complains and makes so much noise he scares off all wildlife.
But before he can set any rules about that, Arthur needs to find him.
They've searched everywhere, he and his knights: in treetops, under rocks, in that stream northwest of the city and Arthur even dove head-first into a giant deep puddle of mud, thanks to which he won't be blonde in at least a week because Merlin the stupid idiot will think it so hilarious he won't let Arthur wash it out (being in charge of baths and bedtimes and things like that). Merlin shouldn't find it hilarious, Arthur thinks, no, he should be damn and well thankful Arthur swallowed his dignity like that in attempt to save the lad's skinny backside! That is, if they find said skinny backside first.
"Maybe he's gone back to Camelot," Leon suggests.
"And if he hasn't and been captured by bandits or another, I suppose we're all happy to turn back to Camelot anyway, yes, let's go to the tavern and celebrate," Arthur snaps back heatedly, eyes flashing like sharp knives and the knight quickly apologizes and takes a couple of steps back, out of sword's range.
"Sire! Listen!"
They all stop and listen at Lancelot's urgent tone.
Ahead, beneath a heavy veil of foliage, there's the mouth of a cave, and from it echoes can be heard. It takes a moment for Arthur to realize what it is. A voice! And more than that, it's muttering in the language of the Old Religion, or what sounds like it because Arthur's never been really sure what's it and what's gibberish. But this is like someone lighting a candle in a very dark night, a sign; only Merlin would be stupid enough to crawl into open caves and do magic in the middle of day.
"Over there! Hurry!"
They all rush through the bushes like a pack of overgrown hounds, eagerly having picked up their trail, and barking as well. The effect is immediate: the muttering turns into a sudden shriek as the knights crash into the cave, spilling onto the floor since Gwaine trips on Percival's shin and grabs Leon's sleeve simultaneously, and the oldest knight stumbles onto Arthur's back, and Lancelot shoots after them trying to steady them all, sending them all to the ground in a heap, atop of whoever the voice belongs to.
"Oof! What—"
Wait. Arthur's brain processes the sound carefully. That's ... that's not Merlin's voice.
"Get off me you giant prats!" continues the strange not-Merlin voice; high-pitched and awkward and many layers of annoyed. "A-and get your hand off of there!"
Hang on! Arthur pauses in hesitation. That's not even … that's not even a man's voice. Sure, Arthur's called Merlin a girl a hundred times but it's not like he's really one, physically anyway, and he doesn't have that kind of voice. So logically, that's not Merlin.
The knights come to their senses sharply, starting to untangle themselves and help each off the ground and Arthur looks up as light spills into the cave; and he realizes that the strangely soft body he's landed on is a woman.
What's she doing here?the prince wonders utterly bewildered. She's quite … pretty actually, even if she does have kind of large ears. And dressed like that!Her hair is loose and wild, maybe caused by the sudden fall, but even as it's long it falls down barely to hide her … those, yes, well, Arthur has honour not enough to look at them directly but the too-large blue tunic that's revealing a pale shoulder does little to help matters.
Especially when Arthur sees why she shrieked like that just a few seconds ago.
Before the reputation of his knights can be sullied forever, the prince launches forward and wrenches off Gwaine's hand. The man stares at where he's just grabbed (by mistake, off course, he assures the, all later but nobody really believes him). "…Tits," he breathes and a happy grin spreads over his face. "Ah! The joy of the fairer species!"
He's rewarded by a resounding forceful slap that makes him crash into Leon, who definitely thinks the man deserves it; that's not how one treats a lady!
"Owowow!" the man groans in pain. "What a fist!"
"Gwaine!" Arthur barks right into his ear. "Apologize to the fair lady immediately!"
"Wait, I'm not-," says not-Merlin but the knight cuts through her words.
"Sorry, sorry," Gwaine murmurs and glances at the woman at least feigning embarrassment. Then metaphorically he sweeps his hat off with a flourish, as if there was no quite impressive bruise now adorning his cheek. "Sir Gwaine at your service, milady. I humbly apologize for my reprehensible behaviour. Please allow me to make up for it." And he takes her hand and kisses it very gentlemanly.
"GWAINE!" not-Merlin shrieks and takes back her offended hand, obviously not accepting that - or maybe any - apology. "I'm not a bloody lady,you-you twat!"
"What language!" Elyan exclaims. He's never heard his sister or any other women speak like that; they usually were careful of what they said, even regarding gossip, though they love gossiping. Then again, being training so hard to fulfill his role as a knight, he's not been around a lot of women in a couple of months, just like his fellow knights. And that perhaps is the reason they all react as they do when encountering such a fine example of said fair species.
Arthur just stares at her. What's with this strange behaviour? Has she hit her head? And how does she know their names without introduction? How come she takes insult to being called a lady – it should be an honour! Granted, it's not every day you find a lovely girl a cave but at least she should be thankfulof them finding her! They'll take her back to Camelot and give her some food and shelter (and proper clothing. Because, really, that too-large tunic isn't covering enough; at least not enough to have Gwaine anywhere nearby). If not for him and his knights, she could have been eaten by beasts or taken by bandits in the middle of night or something else horrendous and dreadful. Besides, the danger is even higher when she's not properly dressed - she's not even wearing skirt! And there are no shoes in sight, as if - if she's ever possessed any - they've vanished by magic.
"Who the hell cares about fucking language right now?" bristles the lady angrily like she's had all this frustration bottled up for days and she starts pacing, glaring at Arthur for some particular reason he cannot comprehend. (Even if he kind of does. Because her breasts. While she's pacingback and forth right in front of him ... he can't just – he can't.)
"Stop staring! Listen to me, dollophead!" the woman rages like a storm, beautiful with red angry streaks on her high cheekbones. "Don't you recognize me?"
"Have we met before?" Arthur asks curiously, and dubiously. Surely if they had he should be able to recall such a fair face…!
"It's me - it's MERLIN, you prat!"
Silence falls shocked and heavy over the group and they all take time looking at the woman, disbelieving and wide-eyed. The woman (if it really is a woman) stares back with a growing red hue to her cheeks, and it's hard to determine whether it's because of anger or embarrassment. The prince blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.
…Oh yes, now he can see the proof: a very bright red neckerchief wrapped around her neck. And it does explain her, err, peculiar character. Strange that he didn't notice it before, the neckerchief. Might've been the very, very distractive breasts though, which Merlin's large neckerchief for some reason can't properly cover. And doesn't it wind him to think 'breasts' and 'Merlin' in the same sentence.
"…Merlin?" he asks.
And then he adds, for good measure, "…You can't be serious." And glances down. Because. Merlin. Arthur's brain might start melting anytime now.
The woman sends him a look that says Do you want me to SPELL IT OUT for you, sire? which is entirely too familiar.
"R-really?" the prince chokes out, oh god, oh god, this really is his manservant, who's anyway far too pretty for his (uhm, her?) own good now has turned into this gorgeous, gorgeous woman with high, sharp cheekbones and round soft – and, and – he'd better stop right there, before he gets into some serious trouble.
"Yes, you cabbage-head!"
"But, but," Arthur splutters and points at Merlin's body; "you're a woman!"
Merlin throws his arms out in exasperation, groaning in annoyance and Arthur really, really shouldn't take so much notice of that sound. "Yes, I quite noticed that thank you!"
The knights just keep on gaping like fish and, in Leon's case, mouth opening and closing his mouth repeatedly like trying to form sensible words.
"Oh." Suddenly it all makes sense, the sudden disappearance and hiding away; albeit Arthur can't quite understand why Merlin was so keen on hiding. It's not like it's anything to be ashamed of, that body, no, definitely not ... But then a thought hits Arthur square in the chest like a spear. "Did someone do this to you? Who did this? Tell me!" the prince asks with a sudden heat to his words, because if someone has laid a finger on Merlin, if they've touched a single hair on Merlin's head, Arthur will make them pay.
He glances around just in case there is some mad sorcerer or sorceress about to jump out of an alcove and turn them all female - or worse - and reaches for his sword; his knights copy the move instinctively. However, Merlin stops him from drawing his weapon.
"I had a run in with, err, pixies," the warlock says with a grimace, not quite sure if the knights will believe him, still moving his quite lovely hands about like unsure what to do with them and clenching to his thin tunic, trying to cover everything … important from view.
"... Pixies," Arthur repeats, slightly doubtfully.
"They were rather angry," Merlin continues, somewhere between distressed (because of what's happened) and annoyed (at Arthur's apparent dumbness and pratliness and his bad influence on the knights). "I accidentally crushed their tea party. Accidentally! I didn't see that root and then I tripped and, well, I never meant to! And I'm not planning on getting any of you into the same, err, predicament! They've gone now, so I doubt they'll do the same to you…but, I'm not sure. Just, be careful, don't straight step into dark bushes! They might be dangerous!" he adds the warning, just in case. If they wander back to Camelot and accidentally all get turned into women, King Uther will be quite furious. And Gaius. Merlin shudders when thinking of how the physician would react (and will react, when seeing what's happened to his ward. Merlin doubts he can hide out here forever. Arthur's going to drag him back one way or the other, the stubborn git).
"Have you tried …err, turning back?" Arthur asks distractedly and Merlin crosses his (her?) arms over his chest, grumbling an annoyed curse when the action is not that simple when his chest isn't that flat anymore.
"Of course I've tried!" Merlin cries. "What do you think I've been doing hiding in a cave for the last two hours?"
Gwaine wriggles his eyebrows mysteriously (or not so mysteriously) and Merlin blushes down to the root of her, err, his hair and mutter something about the ethical implications of turning knights into toads.
This is getting quite confusing, Arthur thinks, him and her. He's not sure what to call him … her … anymore, nothing makes quite sense. Why did they always get into situations crazy like these?
Either Merlin gets into some kind of trouble or one of his knights does and sometimes Arthur. But mostly, mostly it's Merlin. Just because Merlin is so stupid, he supposes, so clumsy and with no self-preservation whatsoever. To what lengths must he go to ensure that his warlock doesn't get into trouble every five minutes, build a tower and lock him in there? Or her. Now it's definitely her. Arthur's brain just can't work if he calls Merlin 'him' when she's got such lovely curves and , anyway, he might never regain his sanity after this so he must guard what's left.
What if Merlin is a mind-reader, being magic and all, and now can see all thoughts about soft thighs with skin the colour of snow, hair black as night, and other similar themes swirling just inside Arthur's skull? Oh no, he'll get turned into a toad within the next five minutes, or worse!
Arthur tries to shut up his treacherous mind, yelling at it, but it stubbornly refuses to listen, especially when Merlin swirls around and looks at him with blazing eyes, jabbing an accusing finger towards him which causes some certain female appendages to move, like they were quietly begging him to drag his gaze towards them—
"YOU!"
Arthur gulps, not audibly or noticeably of course, and thanks to his spine of steel manages to hold his ground as a very pissed off warlock stalks toward him (his knights aren't as brave but the prince is too occupied to notice) and ends up standing very close, so close that Arthur can sense that familiar nice smell of Merlin's, of summer and strawberries and freshly cut grass. He mustn't look down, mustn't look down her tunic—
"This is your entire fault!" Merlin hisses. "If not for you I'd not been forced to go on this bloody hunting trip and then I wouldn't have fallen and met the pixies and then they'd not turned me into a girl!"
"Hang on, how's this myfault?"
The warlock takes a quick breath, just to attack the next man in line. One by one, the servant takes them down, much more effective than any sword or arrow. "And you, Leon, supporting that stupid idea! And you, Percival, Elyan! Agreeing to let the prat have his way and go on this stupid trip instead of convincing him otherwise! Don't you look away, Lancelot, you know it's true! And you, sir Gwaine, I really start to understand how Rosie and all those other kitchen girls are feeling, with all your, your feeling up! Have you no shame?"
"I'm sorry Merlin, but," Gwaine says and flashes a too-white and hopefully charming smile, "You make a very lovely woman. No sane man could resist such a temptation."
"You're impossible! All of you! Argh, men!"
With that, the servant storms out of the cave, panting and red in the face.
Once the silence has settled comfortable around them, the knights exchange glances, unsure whether to be amused or horrified. Leon definitely looks the latter. Gwaine just looks satisfied watching Merlin walk off, that backside is really quite nice to look at no matter if it's male or female; well, until Arthur notices and proceeds to make him look at and eat stone floor instead.
"…What do we do now?" Percival asks at last and gestures toward the mouth of the cave, in the general direction of Camelot. "Should we find him-"
"'Her'," Elyan puts in uncertainly. "Isn't it?"
"-Him, and go back to the city in his current condition, or try to find a solution first? Sire?"
"Yeah," Arthur says slowly and starts climbing out into the fresh sunlight again. "We'd better find her-"
"Him." Percival is quite adamant with this; perhaps he's philosophized about it while the rest of the knights were bickering and staring like a group of overgrown children before. He's a calm and sensible man, after all. "He's still male in the mind, even if his body isn't."
"-whatever," sighs the prince and waves a hand, pointing in the direction Merlin stalked off to. "We'd better find her before she stumbles and breaks her neck or something."
()()()
It takes some time before they can locate the servant again, this time sitting by the stream on a large rock. Merlin's arms are crossed and his glare drills holes through their skulls in quick succession.
"Well?" Merlin demands.
"Well what?" Arthur asks, confused.
"Are you going to apologize?"
"What for?" The prince sounds befuddled.
Merlin still has his arms crossed but somehow deflates, shoulders slumping slightly and he sighs, muttering something quickly and looking at the water, before shrugging. "Never mind. We should go back to Camelot."
"No."
Merlin raises an eyebrow and Arthur quickly adds (he doesn't want Merlin to become angry with him…again); "I mean, you can't go dressed like that. People will … stare. Here. Use my cloak." He unbuckles it with some difficulty since it's usually Merlin who does this for him but now he's sitting there stubbornly refusing to move to help. When he finally manages to get it off, Merlin snatches it out of his hands and wraps it around his female body protectively before Arthur can finish his next sentence: "You'll ride with m-"
"I'll be fine walking, thanks."
"You don't have any shoes," Arthur says and feels strangely pathetic and small when Merlin glares him down.
Shock and annoyance wells up in him like a dam has burst when Percival offers Merlin to take his horse instead and the servant smiles sweetly and thanks him and accepts the offer. The knight helps Merlin into the saddle. What's this? How can Merlin do that? If there's any horse Merlin should be riding it's Arthur's! Nobody else's!
"Jealous, princess?" Gwaine mutters from the corner of his mouth, a teasing twinkle in his eye.
"No. Whatever gave you that stupid idea? And don't answer that," Arthur says briskly and stalks away from the knight and doesabsolutely not look over his shoulder at Merlin, who is gently being helped into the saddle by the biggest knight while tugging at his cloak to preserve some modesty. And Arthur does absolutely not keep glancing every five minutes back at him to make sure there are no wandering hands from either of his men or simply from desire to watch a certain servant during the rest of the ride to Camelot. He does. Absolutely. Not.
()()()
Gaius finds it horrifying at first, then quite hilarious when Merlin stutters and flushes as he explains what's happened, and how it was a total accident and that he'd never meant to anger those pixies. It's not his fault! It isn't.
The old man shakes his head with a sigh; his ward always finds trouble, it's probably a natural order!
The prince and his knights hover in the background anxiously like a pack of protective dogs. Merlin's new form mightn't be so bad to look at but they're still very worried about his welfare. The transformation must've been quite, err, abrupt, after all. Gaius had to assure them that pixies are so quick and tiny, a hunt for them would be unfruitful and they'd definitely not help humans anyway, not willingly – thus it's a bad idea to launch a search for the little mischief-makers, no matter how much Arthur wants to run something through with his sword.
"Well, we better find you some more suitable clothes, while we search for a solution," the physician says as Merlin re-enters the room from his own little chamber now wearing a pair of trousers. The warlock is still very annoyed that his shoes are gone (the pixies had taken amusement in magicking away almost all of his clothing and those were his only pair. Not only is new shoes expensive, it'll take awhile for the cobbler to get them done and the lacking quality of the ones he'll eventually afford will force him to walk around as if having buckets on his feet for the next two months.) The clothes he's wearing now are far too big and he's made a new hole in his belt to make them fit, but still, they're men's clothes, not made for … this kind of body, so they're not very comfortable. But they'll do. It's not like he'll be stuck like this forever or anything. He'll fix this, or Gaius will fix it, somehow.
Still, Merlin looks at Gaius with crossed arms when he says that. "What? Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"
He receives an infamous Eyebrow Look. "We've agreed to keep a low profile about this, Merlin, and that's not so easy when a woman is going about clad in your normal attire. It's too easily recognizable. People will figure out what's happened in a candle-mark and then the King will hear of it, and think that you've used magic and you know what'll happen then! Speaking of which, you probably shouldn't be serving Arthur-"
"I'm still me,of course I'll still wear my things and go about my normal duties," Merlin cuts in. "I've not turned into a woman for fun!"
(The knights and prince look quite disappointed at that.)
"Now, now, it's not that bad, Merlin," Gaius says and pats his shoulder. "Why doesn't one of these gentlemen escort you to the seamstress?"
()()()
Gentlemen my backside, Merlin thinks gloomily as he stands in the centre of the room, arms crossed and eyes dark. Annoying-men more like. If that's a word. Well, I'm making it a word.
He's lost count of how many times on the way here the knights and prince in turn tried to "help" in some way - hold his elbows, lift him, pat his back, offer him flowers and sweet assurances and glances, and laid down their cloaks/jackets onto the dirty road so that Merlin won't have to walk across puddles of mud. (The latter is very strange behaviour. Does Prince Prat do it just to give Merlin more dirty laundry? Stupid prat. And the knights pick up his behaviour like eager puppies, watching and copying his every move – it's starting to drive Merlin insane!)
And as they entered the seamstress' shop, the knights immediately started examining the piles of fabric "for your dresses" they said, an all too-eager gleam in their eyes, and Merlin tried to use that momentarily distraction and run off but Arthur caught him three feet from the door and practically chained him to the floor so that his measurements could be taken. So he has no choice but to stand here and suffer in great humiliation and pain.
Merlin doesn't manage to contain a flinch as the seamstress nears him armed with measuring tape and needles and the firm order to stand still.
()()()
The seamstress is very excited and curious when greeted by the unexpected customers. She's never seen this young lady before, and coming to her modest shop in such great company – the Crown Prince and his closest band of Knights themselves…!
Perhaps she is from some faraway kingdom and they are trying to court her? Well, that's not working very well, judging by the lady's facial expressions and body language. She looks like she'd rather run and hide, and none of the men seem to catch a clue. Perhaps she's embarrassed of her current state – the seamstress knows she wouldn't want to be caught dressed like that. Poor girl. She's a natural beauty though, and the seamstress is convinced she can make her look stunning by the end of the day. In fact she won't let the young lady out of her shop before she's got at least two different outfits.
It's quite odd, the seamstress thinks as she observes them, how close they seem to be to the lady, despite the fact she doesn't look like a noble and she doesn't have the proper language or stance either. Her clothes are frankly put terrible. Was she brought up in the street?
"Poor girl," the seamstress mutters, patting her arm, and the lady flushes; the seamstress is starting to get rather worried now. The young lady's reaction is rather comical, her ears reddening and eyes widening, as she stares at the seamstress as if she's grown a second head. "Don't you worry dear, we'll have you something nice to wear in no time." She finishes taking measurements, and looks critically down at the lady's old worn boyish shoes (they look just like the ones all of the stable-boys wear!); they don't look comfortable and wouldn't fit with any dress. They've got to go now.
"Why don't you sit down for a moment and rest your feet while I fetch some fabric."
"Uh, sure," the lady says in a very unlady-like manner and glances at her very uncertainly. The seamstress wishes she knew who and where the poor thing's parents were so that she could berate them for this neglect.
"Wonderful!" The seamstress turns to the men who are animatedly discussing (well, arguing) about whether sapphire blue or emerald green silk is the best option over in a corner, and she hides an amused smile behind her hand as she approaches them. She's got a great deal of respect for the knights, but there are some things they just shouldn't do. "Excuse me, sirs, but I believe this is my area of expertise, not yours."
"Of course. I apologize, miss, on behalf of my men's behaviour," the Prince says politely, even managing to look abashed, and tugs at the arm of one of the knights (sir Gwaine, the seamstress can recall: she's seen the handsome man walk through the town and flirt with various people often enough, or by the tavern, singing and telling stories and also flirting with anything that moves), telling him to drop one of the ornate silk laces he's been browsing through.
"But I like it!" protests sir Gwaine. "He - she'd look so fine in it! Imagine, a green and dark blue dress, with a low cut at the back with a hem of-"
The glare the Prince sends him could've set him afire.
"Right. Right, sorry."
What an odd company, the seamstress muses, though they've very handsome, all these men, and the young lady is very pretty indeed. Oh! I hope she comes to me when a wedding dress is needed…but if these boys seriously have no sense of fashion, or how to treat a lady properly, then I will protest,no doubts about that.
()()()
Arthur can't quite figure out the looks the seamstress keeps sending him, his men and Merlin respectively, no matter how hard he tries. The glances are quite cunning and mysterious.
Actually, they reminds him too much of the looks Morgana would've sent them in this situation, and the prince shudders at the thought and proceed to ignore the looks from then on (and shield Merlin from them the best he can while still letting the seamstress work - which is difficult indeed).
()()()
Several hours and two new dresses later, the knights, the prince and the servant gather in the prince's chamber to eat.
(There'd been a small row between Arthur and Merlin regarding it; Merlin just wanted to crawl into his room and hide for the rest of his life but Arthur insisted that they have a proper meal, with Merlin dressed all nice and everything. The knights wisely kept their distance during this discussion. Arthur was very close to having his ear literally chewed off.)
Now they're sitting around the large table, sipping fine wine and ignoring the curious looks the servant George is sending them. Merlin for some reason keeps glaring at George; Arthur can't fathom why. George serves the perfect wine and steak have proper manners and all, and keeps quiet unlike some manservants, at least when he's not making jokes about brass. And Gwaine's ridiculous eyebrows don't help the prince figure out what the problem.
The man-come-maidservant stubbornly refuses to eat more than some cheese, and whacks the prince over the head with a piece of bread for good measure. George's reaction to that was very comical indeed. (Gwaine thinks he should, behind the prince's back, promote him to the prince's second manservant permanently. Just for fun.)
Percival senses at once that Merlin is not happy, and he places a large hand on his shoulder in a hopefully soothing manner and says, "Maybe the spell will wear off by itself?"
Merlin grimaces. "Whenever have we been that lucky?"
"Your turning back wouldn't be lucky. For us, I mean," Gwaine says and is rewarded a kick in the shin by His Pratliness.
"Couldn't we just ask the pixies kindly to reverse this?" Leon suggests and takes a thoughtful bite of the ham sandwich.
Merlin snorts but Arthur nods slowly. "Maybe we could. I mean. These magic creatures have weird whims but maybe we could persuade them. If we offered the proper apology ... perhaps with a gift? What do pixies like, anyway?"
"Gold?" Elyan suggests.
"Power?" is Leon's contribution. "Weaponry? Crossbows?"
"Ale!" proclaims Gwaine.
Percival gently adds, "Maybe they'd like flowers, or a really good sword."
"It's obvious," Merlin says with a sigh. "They like tea!"
The prince frowns. "Why'd they like tea?"
"Because I ruined their tea-party, you twat!"
"Oh," Percival says, eyes widening. "I think you're right."
The knights nod in unison. It makes perfect sense, after all, adding up all the facts they know.
"…The question is," Gwaine says and lowers his voice to a hush-hush tone, leaning in as if sharing a secret, "where and how we'll get out hands on the kingdom's finest tea without alert the King and his Ever-Watching Evil Minions?"
And thus begins the making of the awesome plan, aka Fixing Merlin's Little Pickle, otherwise known as Sneaking Into the Kitchen and Steal (Borrow) ... (well it's more like stealing) (but Arthur resents: they'll only borrow it, and he's the prince and practically owns the royal kitchens anyway) Some Really Nice Tea For the Pixies.
()()()
"You know all those times I say something isn't a good idea …"
"And I ignore you, yeah," Arthur fills in automatically, giving Merlin an approving nod (and maybe he sends a look over that dress but, well, it's not his fault, it's the dress, it's got an in-sewn magnet or something).
The servant sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Why don't you ever listen to me? You stupid prat."
"Come on. It's not that bad. You just have to distract the cook, a little while, while we make the necessary preparations. It'll be fine." Suddenly Merlin finds Arthur all focused on him, worried and serious and then the prince mutters, "If anything goes wrong, if she comes at you with the rolling pin or anything I'll rush out there and save – help, I swear," Arthur adds quietly and lays his hands on Merlin's shoulders, hesitating. Hug or no hug?
If he starts hugging he mightn't be able to … stop himself, from … further … advances and well, Merlin mightn't … like that very much, seeing how short her fuse is as of late.
"Fine. But you'll owe me a drink!"
"I'm the prince, Merlin, I can't be seen buying drinks to my servant."
Arthur still can't will his hands to move away from Merlin's shoulder. In fact they seem to be gaining a will of their own and start to travel downwards, down the shoulder-blades and he feels Merlin shiver beneath the touch, the silk of the dress so incredibly soft. "I. I should. You know." He tears away his left hand from the shoulder to wave it around making sane gestures. "Get going."
The warlock shivers again and looks at him through long dark lashes. "…Yeah."
They break apart hastily and Arthur busies himself inspecting his sword and Merlin mutters what almost sounds like 'prat' on her breath before walking out of the room.
()()()
"Um, excuse me..."
Sara the cook turns on the heel after barking an order at the nearest kitchen aide to keep stirring the stew, coming face to face with what she first thinks must be a lady. She doesn't recognize her though. A guest perhaps? However, the cook spends so much time in her beloved kitchens, she rarely attends to courtly business, if ever, and she easily could have missed to recognize one or two of the court ladies. After all she has to safeguard her kitchen from pilferers all the time.
"Yes?" she demands in a rather stressed tone. The King will want his lunch within the hour and none of the vegetables are yet chopped and the stew is far too thin and there are a hundred other little things needing to be done - she has no time for this!
"What is it, girl? Make it quick!"
The girl makes a funny, kind of nervous, squeak. "I, uh, I think I've lost my, uh, earring, somewhere around...here ..."
Sara squints and regards the lady intensely. Having lost the earring here means she must've been here before, and Sara can't recall that has happened ... but, sadly enough, she has not full day-and-night control of this place. The lady must have visited the kitchens during late hours; perhaps come asking for a late drink or meal, an odd whim courtiers often have.
"...And I'd like some help retrieving it, please...?" The young woman wrings her hands anxiously and she looks so pitiful and earnest, that even Sara's harsh heart is moved. The Cook suppresses a sigh.
Throwing a look over her shoulder, she shouts at the kitchen aides to continue working, no matter how much they're sweating and how much their shoulders ache, and then turns back to the girl who points toward a corner. The floor of the room is made of solid stone but the thin cracks between are like traps and Sara has doubts that they'll be able to retrieve any earring or smaller object if it's fallen there.
"All right, tell me how it looks like."
"It's, um, white. A … a pearl."
The cook's eyebrows rise in astonishment. A pearl! So the girl is a fine lady then! All the more important to find that earring then, she supposes. She'd rather not have the lady's family or husband or other important persons to come and nag about it. That'd slow down the staff for sure and then supper would be late.
So, together with the lady, she starts inspecting the floor with intense dark eyes; not noticing a figure slip into the room behind her back.
After a while it becomes clear that if there's ever been a pearl somewhere on the floor, it's now gone (Sara can almost bet that one of the servant girls took it at first sight, to sell it or keep for themselves), and the lady nods and thanks her anyway for the help, promising there'll be no one bothering the cook about the lost piece of jewelry, and then practically flees over the doorstep. Sara turns back to the giant stove, milliseconds after the figure has slipped out of the smoky room.
"What's with that lazy stirring!" the cook barks angrily, pointing an accusing finger at the kitchen aide responsible, who startles and almost drops the wooden spoon. "Work faster! We don't have all day!"
()()()
"Phew, that was close," Gwaine breathes a sigh of relief. But he's quite proud, too; he is after all the master of pilfering. This will hopefully soften the prince's anger about the knight's earlier behaviour. He presents a bucketload of leaves. "Perfect, huh?"
"Okay, we've got everything. Let's move out!" Arthur orders, as if they're going on a very dangerous quest (well, they kind of are) - and out they move.
()()()
The forest is much larger than they'd first anticipated. The trees are very much alike. And Merlin is not that good a tracker but the men have promised to be patient, thus they keep quiet when they round the same rock for the third time. Somehow, though, they manage to find the place, a tiny clearing next to an ancient hollow oak, and when squinting Arthur thinks he can see small colourful lights fluttering in and out of sight, but he's not sure if they're real or an illusion.
"I think it was around here…" Merlin points at the oak. "Yes! This root. I tripped on it. Watch out so you don't do the same. This way…" He carefully climbs over the root, hating to trip on it again, fisting and lifting the (ridiculously long) blue skirt. "We should probably-"
He's interrupted by a mighty crash followed by a series of angry, shrill cries. Terrified he whirls around.
The prince and his knights are lying in a heap, draped over the treacherous root. And tiny winged people are buzzing around their heads, screaming and waving their wand-things around in rage.
"Stupid men! Look at what you've done!" one of them cries.
"Our tea, our tea!" adds another.
"Look, pixies, we're friendly guys," Gwaine tells them. "We brought a gift. See! Lots of tea, just for you."
One of the pixies, maybe their leader, with yellow star-patterned wings, lands on the knight's head and pokes at it with its wand and asks, distrustfully, "What flavour?"
Merlin can remember that one clearly. A vicious little creature. It's the one who did this to him. Oh no – what if… The servant moves forward, to help the men to his feet and maybe he could make amend with the pixies, apologize even if it's unlikely it'll be accepted. Arthur however speaks up before he can help.
"Some odd herbs." He's not quite sure. They didn't have that much time to decide, just grabbed some: the royal cook would've had their heads if they were caught pilfering from her kitchen.
"Herbs! Know you nothing, stupid man!" shouts the pixie. "Lemons are the only acceptable thing! Clearly you need to be taught a lesson."
"No, wait!" Merlin cries and leaps toward the prince to help, shield him, anything, but it's too late: light shoots out from the pixie's wand and envelops the prince and as the light fades, the pixies have vanished into thin air, leaving them dazed and confused.
As he sits up, the prince finds that everyone is staring at him.
"What?"
"Oh you stupid prat," Merlin sighs and crosses his arms across his chest. "Now look what you've done!"
Arthur sits up slowly, staring at Merlin like he's grown a second head. He's very quiet. Everyone's very silent, even Gwaine, who usually has something to say when things happen to the 'princess' - warning bells goes off in Arthur's head. Slowly, slowly he lifts his hands and feels over his body, which feels very … strange … and Merlin looks nervous and gently grips Arthur's hands to lift them off from certain areas.
There's a fifteen second pause before the prince manages to voice any reaction.
"I'm ... a woman," Arthur says stupidly.
"Yes, Arthur," Merlin says with a nod.
"I … Oh my god. I'm a woman."
"Yes, Arthur," Merlin says, again, patiently like talking to a small child. "I'm glad we've got that sorted."
Gwaine looks far too gleeful for Arthur – or Merlin for that matter – to be at ease.
()()()
Sneaking back through the city and into the citadel takes nearly an hour. They still haven't come up with a good excuse to the prince's sudden apparent disappearance, or even Merlin's, but they know keeping Arthur's condition a secret will be a tough challenge. They've no idea what to do if Arthur is summoned to see his father or when he's got to fulfill other princely duties. They only have one choice: ask Gaius for advice. Maybe the physician can feign that Arthur is ill, and Merlin too, and make people not suspect a thing. Maybe. Hopefully.
The old man raises an eyebrow at the odd group entering his chambers. At first he thinks the full armoured person is Prince Arthur who for some reason is wearing also a helmet, but upon closer inspection he finds the chainmail and tunic too loose on the frame (on some parts, not everywhere), and the body too short.
"Gaius," Merlin hedges awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. "We have a ... problem."
Arthur pulls off the helmet and drops it with a clang.
Gaius' eyebrow travels further up his temple. "... You're a woman, sire!"
"Yes, I've noticed," Arthur mutters angrily.
"Were you not careful when speaking to the pixies?" the old man asks next, pouring two cups of hot tea for them; he's sure they need it after this ordeal.
"How did you know we were going to—MERLIN!"
The servant looks sheepish. "Uhm, oops…sorry. I just thought I should tell him in case…in case things ended badly, he deserved to know we might've found a cure, so he could search for us if we didn't return for a long while, and if it worked then everything would be back normal and he wouldn't need to browse through the whole old library. Which we didn't anyway so it doesn't matter, right?" With a nervous chuckle he backs up to his room and fetches that second dress the seamstress had made. It ought to fit even if Arthur has got quite more … curves than himself right now. Just thinking about it makes him feel weird, so he tries not to. He turns back toward Arthur and hands him the dress still blushing avoids looking at Arthur's face, now set in a permanent dark scowl.
"Er, here. It should fit. I mean, it's probably more comfortable than armour."
"Right," Arthur says not very enthusiastically and Merlin can't help the smirk that forms. Finally the prat gets a taste of how it feels to be Merlin! But the smirk fades when Arthur does his kicked-puppy-face, otherwise known as the infamous Pendragon Pout, which melts Merlin's heart a little, and together with Gaius he manages to usher the knights out of the room so the prince can change clothes in (relative) peace.
For a moment Arthur remains standing motionless in the middle of the room. Merlin's mouth forms into an 'oh' with realization. "You can change in there," he says pointing into his room and the prince trudges up the stairs, slamming the door shut after himself. Merlin feels momentarily torn. Maybe he should go up there and give a hand. Calm the prat down...Or maybe his presence would just upset Arthur now?
"Well," Gaius says and pushes a steaming cup onto Merlin's hands, before returning to the table, which is covered with old dusty books. The servant starts drinking without even looking what it is. "Looks like it's a good thing I started to look into this matter myself, then."
Merlin tears his gaze away from the door. "Have you found anything yet?"
"I've only just began to scratch the surface, Merlin!" the physician exclaims irritably. "Sit over there and wait for Arthur, or do something else, but be quiet. I need to concentrate."
()()()
"I can't believe this," the prince rants as he struggles with the lacing. "I'm female. All because of that idiot. I'm going to wring his neck. Her neck." He pauses briefly. Are the others going to start referring to him as her? Because that'd be kind of ... confusing, and probably creepy, and he wonders if this is how Merlin feels because then it's legit she...he reacted like that earlier when they found him. Yes, maybe it's best if Arthur from now on refers to him as him, so Merlin takes less offence (he'd seen earlier at the dress shop how badly Merlin liked being called a lady).
"And Gwaine's neck too, and possibly Lancelot's too because he's the one who alerted us about the noise and if he hadn't we'd not found out that Merlin's a woman and then I'd not be in this mess!" By now his tone has risen, in annoyance and agony and thirst for revenge of this evil deed.
A voice filters through the door, muffled: "Arthur, are you talking to yourself?"
"Shut up, Merlin!" Arthur shouts and the order is promptly ignored.
"Are you okay? Should I...come and help or anything?" The voice is slightly anxious. "Maybe I should-"
"No! I don't need any help, damn it! I told you to shut up!"
For a few moments Merlin actually does as he's told and stays quiet. With a small sigh Arthur grabs the last fastening he can reach (there's still a mess of them at the back, out of reach) and tugs, hard, and then blinks in surprise when the thin lacing snaps in half.
"...Oh." This might be a problem.
His idiot manservant must have some sixth sense to detect such things, because the voice returns through the wood. "Arthur? What's taking you? It's been almost like half an hour now - you sure you don't need any help?"
"No!" Arthur is the prince of Camelot, a proud warrior and knight and the king's son - he does not need help to put on a piece of clothing! (Never mind the fact that Merlin helps him dress nearly every day. But that's different. Then his body is his own male one and he knows that body, is comfortable with it and has control over it. He's not sure what would happen if Merlin came to help him in this ... condition, even if the servant is in the same predicament.)
"Sure then. Whatever. Like I care."
A pause. And then, sharply after an intake of breath:
"Arthur?"
An annoyed growl escapes Arthur's throat. Somehow he manages to make a firm knot out of the split lacing, keeping it in place (kind of). "Yes, Merlin?"
"I...I'm sorry about this, I mean - it's mostly my fault it happened in the first place."
"No apologizes are going to fix this!"
"Yeah – I mean, no, no they won't, of course -"
"Merlin."
"Yes Arthur?"
"Shut up."
()()()
"There's still your father to be dealt with, sire. Merlin might be able to hide for a longer period of time, but you certainly cannot, especially since you are expected for " Gaius points out when Arthur reenters the main chamber.
"…Yes, breaking the news to him might be…difficult," says Arthur while unable to hinder a shudder course through his body.
At the sight of the prince-ess, Merlin springs up from the stool he's been sitting on, stumbling on the skirts nearly having forgotten about them and promptly would've fallen flat on his face if not for Arthur's convenient position by the bottom of the tiny steps. Instead he pulls them both down onto the floor in a heap of silks and curses. "Merlin!" Arthur growls. "You clumsy fool!"
"Sorry. I just noticed that-"
"Yes, yes, whatever, Merlin. Help me up."
Whoever invented long skirts was an idiot. They're the most impractical thing Arthur's had to wear yet (albeit when Merlin is the wearer, Arthur's opinion might differ. Yes, differ a whole turnabout but – any adult would understand). The servant somehow manages to stand without falling over a second time and Arthur feels kind of weird looking at him then, when he's being pulled up grasping a pathetically thin pale wrist, but not weird in an entirely bad way.
Merlin nudges his arm.
"Arthur, you've put the dress on backwards."
"I've - Oh for the sake of…!" He didn't want to go through the whole dressing process again! But it's either that or walking around looking a complete idiot. And the Crown Prince of Camelot will never, never go about looking like a simpleton!
"Do you – do you need help?" asks Merlin next, ears quickly going from white to red. "I promise I won't peek!"
Arthur's face flushes. It's not a big deal, he tells himself, Merlin's seen him in various state of undress before. Even if then, they both were male, and Merlin averts his eyes and blushes almost constantly. This won't be that different. Merlin won't deliberately look anywhere and he's, well, he's a she too now, so maybe he's got a point. Merlin has proven he can actually put on a dress. So, no big deal. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
"Why don't you change behind that screen over there?" says Gaius and points, before going back to the old tome he's reading.
Deep breaths. Merlin has breasts too now. So it's all right. Arthur goes behind the screen and Merlin follows and Arthur tries not to look at his servant's lovely flushed face.
"This fastening," the servant says uncertainly and tugs, and tugs again as the knot proves to be strong and stubborn. "Shouldn't it-"
One more tug and it comes free, and the next follow like a chain reaction and the fabric falls down. "You said you wouldn't look!" shrieks a terrified, flustered Arthur in a voice which is definitely not girly, or high-pitched, or anything else ridiculous. A tiny part of him might be proud and pleased though, that he's drawing Merlin's attention like this. Even if it's completely absurd and weird and strange and unprincely on so many levels.
"I'm not looking!"
"Yes you are!"
"Well, you looked at mine!"
"Did not!"
"Yes, you did! That time when you found me, you wouldn't stop staring!"
"Boys," they hear Gaius' voice and are terribly stridently reminded of the fact that they're not alone.
Merlin twists his hands like he always does when he's nervous and averts his gaze. "Uhm. Just, turn around then." Arthur does, and then steps out of the dress and pulls it up after turning it as well, so the front is where it should be. It should've been easier with the fastenings with a person trying them rather than trying to do it by himself, but Merlin's hands aren't quite steady and it takes half an eternity before Arthur can step out from behind the screen. Putting the distance between them doesn't help slowing both the servant and the prince's racing pulse, and they both find their hands clammy with sweat.
"I, uh, will go speak with the knights," says Arthur. "And I need to face my father about this sudden ... Well. This."
Merlin fists the layered skirts around his thighs. "S-sure."
That moment Gaius chose to speak up again. "It'd be best, perhaps, if Merlin reveals his 'accident' as well; that will rule him out as a suspect."
"Yes," the prince agrees with a nod. It's logical because Merlin has been accused of sorcery god knows of many times and only escaped due to some odd stroke of luck, but there's no saying that the same luck would work for an umpteenth time, and Arthur is in no mood to wrestle his servant out of the dungeons again. And they can't have the King more paranoid than normal either.
Arthur turns to look at Merlin who stares back with wide eyes, frozen on the spot. "Well, come on, we haven't got all day!" Arthur cries, annoyed all of a sudden and tearing his eyes away from his servant, who looks quite lovely, and Arthur has this sudden urge to walk up and … No, he shouldn't think like that, not now and with Gaius's hawk eyes fixed on them!
Somehow he manages to adopt the most prattish expression he knows and rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "My father isn't going to eat you, Merlin."
"I wouldn't put it past him," Merlin murmurs darkly.
()()()
King Uther of Camelot stands up from his throne, eyes large and raging and voice like a cold winter's storm full of sharp hail as it echoes across the hall, making half of his subject wince. The other half are too busy gawking at the prince and manservant come princess and maidservant, who are standing in the centre of the giant hall awkwardly.
"SORCERY! WHOEVER DID THIS SHALL BURN!"
Ever the diplomat, Gaius puts in, "Milord, pixies are fickle creatures. They appear and disappear just as swiftly as the eye can blink. Capturing any of them might prove extremely difficult, perhaps even impossible."
"I DON'T CARE! IT'S SORCERY! I DESPISE IT! FIND THE SORCEROUS BEINGS THAT HAVE PRACTICED THIS SORCERY AND BRING THEM BEFORE ME SO THEY CAN BE PUNISHED FOR THIS SORCEROUS CRIME!"
"Yes, Your Highness, right away."
The knights, led by sir Bors, who have gathered closest to the throne can do little but bow their heads in respect and exchange glances and move to fulfill the order (there'd sure be betting tonight in the watch towers between the guards, sir Bors muses internally, about which one of them has the biggest chance to take a tumble in the hay with either of the newly appeared young ladies. They're quite lovely, albeit sir Bors thinks it best not to call Prince Arthur so in his – her? – face, lest he wants all of his body parts intact. Maybe Merlin would react better to such praise, but sir Bors wouldn't dare say it out loud when Prince Arthur is nearby. The Prince would have his head and possible other body parts too. It's safest not to try.)
()()()
Fifteen patrols are sent out, all with excellent trackers, hunters and knights among them, dispersed across the forests in search for the pixies. With them, they have hounds and nets and massive loads of tea. This huge an undertaking in searching for something hasn't been done since Arthur was six years old and had lost his beloved one-eyed teddy Ambrosius (Morgana still teased him about that) when out camping with his father.
In the meantime, Arthur (forbidden by his father to go) and Merlin (forbidden by Arthur to go – it's only fair.) have to wait in the prince's chambers for word of success, or failure, unsure if any cure can be found at all. Initially, they're still awkward and tense but then after two hours of silence they start talking and once they've begun, there's no stopping. For some reason Arthur finds it a little easier to talk in this female body. He's not sure why. Anyway, when nightfall creeps nearer they begun to grow really, really bored. They've tried chess (Arthur refused to play anymore because he lost) and already thrown Gwaine out twice. Morgana and Gwen had passed by to visit but Arthur felt so awkward around them right now he finally locked the door, ignoring Morgana's evil laughter from the other side.
Arthur orders another servant to fetch a meal and for a second time, Merlin gets to eat in the prince's chambers. He especially likes he sausages he steals from Arthur's plate and the prince's glare at that is only amusing. After dinner, the prince announces he wants to retire and Merlin moves toward the door, carrying a tray full of dirty plates and dishes.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Why don't you – why don't you stay here tonight." It's more of a statement than a question, not quite a demand either.
Merlin sends Arthur a strange look, forcing the prince to elaborate. "I'd rather not have Gwaine jumping on you in any corridor. Or in your room; I know how there are no safe locks. You can just leave that on the table and take it away in the morning," he adds and points at the tray which the servant puts down uncertainly.
"Uhm, thanks…I guess?" Merlin steps toward the prince. "But there's only one bed, where'll I sleep?"
"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."
"You can't do that! You'll have a terrible crick in your neck in the morning. The bed's huge anyway. Why don't we share?"
Arthur's eyes bulges and his throat dry and he gets goosebumps allover when suddenly before his mind's eye flashes a series of images: pale flesh pressed against tanned, soft curves against his own, soft supple lips and wet tongues and –
"Err, Arthur? Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?"
A pair of fingers snaps in front of his face to gain his attention and Arthur comes back to reality with a start.
"What? Nothing. Nothing. We should get changed first. I should have some nightshirt you can borrow."
()()()
"This was the most stupid idea, ever," Arthur mutters to himself when after a few awkwardly quiet minutes Merlin's curled up and fallen asleep, steady deep breaths puffing against Arthur's chin. No matter the promise not to steal any pillows or the covers and stay on his side, the first thing Merlin does after closing his eyes is to snuggle up against Arthur's side comfortably and the prince hasn't the heart to push him off.
"Yes. Stupid, stupid idea."
… Albeit, something stirs inside him when Merlin sighs and presses up, soft breasts touching his own (weird thought) through the fabric of their nightshirts. Oh no. Oh no, bad thoughts, very bad thoughts! Don't think naughty thoughts right now, Arthur! The prince mentally kicks himself. He knows enough about how the female anatomy works, to know how it react to these kinds of situations. And his body is eagerly starting to betray his mind, no matter how much he chants and swears in his head.
Apparently, Merlin's quite a vivid dreamer; he shifts so that one of his legs is crossing Arthur's thighs, and snuggles closer.
Damnitdamnitdamnit. Get a grip, Arthur!
(He doesn't want to get turned into a toad after all. Would Merlin do that if he found out that Arthur is hugging him back?)
It's going to be a very, very, very long night.
()()()
By some miracle, Merlin untangles himself just a few minutes before waking, and once back to conscious he's happy and oblivious and Arthur bites his lip to keep from bursting. He manages to give Merlin the order to dress properly and fetch breakfast, and Merlin does so, and Arthur buries his face in the pillows and tries to force himself to sleep, just to catch a few precious minutes of rest.
George chooses that moment to appear, and the smell of nice crisp bacon and tomatoes fill Arthur's nostrils.
"Good morning, sire – milady, I mean. Have you slept well, sire – milady?" asks the servant, kind of more awkward than usual.
"Put that over on the table." The servant complies, putting down the tray. "And no. Not very. And stop 'milady'-ing me!"
"Of course, mila—sire."
"And then you can muck out the stables." That'll keep him off for awhile. Just as the servant turns to leave, bowing and calling the prince sire for the eighth or ninth time (Arthur's lost count), Arthur stops him. "Wait! Has there been any word yet about the search?"
"No, sire, there's not been any, sire."
The prince curses on his breath.
When returning, Merlin brings a second full tray of food, and even when eating together they don't manage to empty both trays. The rest of the day is spent in much boredom, and they play chess over and over again and, since Merlin's had orders (from the King himself nonetheless! Maybe since the King thinks it might be dangerous for anyone to work after having a spell put on them like that) not to work, Arthur only has George to push around and that's not nearly as much fun as when he can push Merlin around.
Every three hours or so, Arthur asks for a report on the search, and the answer is always the same: 'No, no pixies in sight yet. No, Gaius hasn't found anything useful in his books yet. Yes, you're still a woman, sire.'
Each time, he and Merlin shares a pained look. Then they return, slightly crestfallen, to the game of chess (which Merlin wins repeatedly, much to Arthur's chagrin.)
Day turns slowly into night, and Arthur decides Merlin better spend the night here again, to avoid any unwanted attention from knights or anyone else, despite the things Arthur then has to endure. But Arthur will endure it: he's strong, a knight and prince and he's doing it to protect Merlin. He might have to ask Gaius to make him some sleeping potion if this goes on for too long, though.
()()()
It does go on.
For far too long.
Five days and eight hours, to be precise. Every night, Merlin stays and shares the bed, snuggling up like Arthur's a giant teddy bear. Every morning, Merlin untangles himself and wakes up completely oblivious that he's the cause for Arthur's sudden insomnia.
"Well?" the prince demands for the eighty-eight time when Gaius appears on the doorstep. The physician looks somber. But then he usually does.
"We have a solution."
Merlin jumps up. "Really? Seriously? It's not a joke or-"
"Merlin, stop jumping around like that, it's – distracting," Arthur mutters and averts his gaze.
"Huh? What?"
"Nevermind." Arthur glares at Gaius who immediately stops giggling and adopts that serious Don't Mess With Me Or I'll Give You The Eyebrow-look again. "Put on some decent clothing at least."
The physician clears his throat. "Actually, sire … You both should do quite the opposite."
"WHAT?"
"Here, I found this book. Read it. The instructions are on page 42."
Begrudgingly Arthur accepts the script and eyes through the given page. There's a long recipe with weird stuff that apparently has to be carefully prepared and boiled on a rainy day (thank god they live in Camelot where it rains every second day) and then the victim, or victims, or a gender-shifting spell must bathe in it to regain their normal form. Yes, it clearly states they also must be unclothedsince fabric could disrupt the counter-magic … Unclothed! Damn it.
"Guard!" Arthur yells and immediately one appears in the doorway. "I want sir Gwaine, sir Leon, sir Percival and the rest but especially sir Gwaine locked in the dungeons until further notice. Come back to me with the key! And have the biggest bathtub you can find brought to my chambers. Oh, and bring me a turkey sandwich while you're at it."
The guard nods as if he's not at all surprised at any of these orders. At least he's not ogling either prince or servant, for which he receives plus points from Arthur.
"Right away, sire."
()()()
"We've got to what?" Merlin squeaks and pulls the towel closer around his naked body. Arthur struggles to avoid looking at it…so far to little avail.
"Just a quick dip and you'll back to normal," Gaius says in a calm neutral tone and not like he's ordering Merlin and Arthur to get into the tub. Together. While naked. While Arthur has this very, very strong urge to touch and to other things with Merlin. Thankfully the physician is standing with his back to them so he doesn't see the prince's red face.
"I've no idea what's in the tub, even," the servant says weakly. He thinks he just saw a goat's eye pop to the surface but didn't double check for his own sanity's sake. Merlin glances at Arthur, who looks very tense and red in the face and is breathing quickly, too.
"I've followed the recipe very closely and there's nothing harmful, I promise," Gaius says. He's getting impatient now. "Now get in before it gets cold, or I'll have to redo everything and that would be such a bother."
Arthur glances at Merlin, briefly. "I – you get in first."
"O-okay but, don't peek!"
When the towel drops, Arthur might peek … a bit … All right he doesn't peek, he stares, but he can't help it and Merlin stares back and then Arthur drops his own towel.
"Is the temperature of this room suddenly rising?" a surprised Gaius asks and immediately there's the sound of splashing water. For a moment there's silence, then, Arthur's voice – his normal male voice:
"Oh thank god it worked!"
Merlin only makes a very manly squeaking noise, especially when noting they're both still in the water, naked, together and that Arthur has a … rising problem at hand. (He might also be getting that).
"You said you wouldn't look!"
"Well you looked at me!" Arthur retorts.
"Obviously!"
"What do you mean 'obviously', you could have looked away!"
"So they're at it again," Gaius sighs as he walks out of the room and closes the door firmly to give the boys some privacy. "But at least they're back to themselves."