A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

8. Chapter 8

Merlin leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. He was sitting in his chair at his new desk with his feet propped up on top of it. It had been several hours since he'd been escorted to his room by Leon. And he had done exhausted every possible position that he could get in.

First, he had laid on the bed for who know's how long before he couldn't take it anymore and had hopped up. Then he had spent some time sitting by the window, watching the world go by. When that got boring, he ended up laid out on his rug in front of the fireplace although he hadn't bothered to light it. It was warm enough in here and since the sun was still streaming through the windows, he didn't need the firelight to see.

Which is why he was now sitting at his desk. His fluffy rug had been so comfortable, more comfortable than his bed had been. It was firmer, he could easily imagine falling asleep there. But there had only been so long that he could lay there when it was daylight, which was now why he was sitting at his desk.

The way he was slightly turned in his chair gave him the perfect position to see out his window. He couldn't see the townspeople but he could see the endless blue skies.

He should be out there. He wouldn't have anything specific to do but it had to be better than being locked in this room.

Merlin grumbled under his breath, his hands folded together and resting on top of his stomach. His finger started picking at the bandage wrapped around the knuckles of his other hand.

It was starting to irritate some. The bandage wasn't as neat as it had been when Uncle Gaius had put it on. Now it looked slightly dirty, no longer the pristine white that it had been.

He started picking at a piece that was coming out. Then he started tugging at it until it came loose, the bandage loosening around his knuckles. Finally, he just started pulling at the whole thing.

Within a minute, the bandages were left on his desk, now a heap of fabric that he would have to throw away. Or maybe he'd just toss it in his fireplace after he got the fire lit tonight when it started to get colder.

Merlin, with absolutely nothing else to do, picked lightly at the scabs forming on his knuckles. They weren't nearly as bad now. That pink gel that Gaius had smeared on it had done wonders. The scabs were much smaller now, they would probably be gone in a day or two.

Merlin hissed when the scab he was picking at split open and started to bleed. He pressed his knuckles to his pants, putting pressure on it to stop the small trickle of blood. His pants were dirty enough the nobody would spot the small flash of crimson against the fabric.

While Merlin was looking at his hand, his eyes drifted down to his wrist. He bit his lip, bringing his other hand to gently trail along his thin wrist bone.

It had been the wrist that Arthur had held behind his back. He could almost feel his strong fingers still wrapped around it, holding him into place.

Who does he think he is?

Prince or not, what kind of leader went around tormenting his people?

Merlin thought of the serving boy that Arthur had been throwing daggers at. He wondered if he was alright or if Arthur had went back to tormenting him after he'd been dragged away by his friends.

Arthur's friends?

If those were the people that Arthur wanted to associate with, Merlin saw no hope for the prince. He could almost still feel the grip that Markus had around his bicep.

Markus' grip had been much tighter than Arthur's had been. While Markus had held him with the intention of hurting him, Arthur had just held him firm enough so that he couldn't shake free.

Markus' grip had lessened to a dull ache over the hours. Arthur's though, while not being nearly as painful, seemed to burn. Not a soft burn that one might get from being out in the sun for to long. But a more harsher burn, as if the place Arthur had held were coated in a thin layer of acid.

But it wasn't, not really. It was just a phantom feeling, Merlin imagining something that was no longer there.

His fingers were still softly trailing along the inside of his wrist.

He had been so close to punching the guy. How was he to know that Arthur knew how to stop it? He probably would have still done it, just because of principle alone.

Merlin couldn't think of anyone right now that deserved a punch to the face more than Arthur did.

He stared at the wall blankly, still lightly brushing his fingertips against the bone in his wrist now.

What was he supposed to do? Just pretend that he hadn't seen Arthur be a complete arse the next time they met at their wedding?

God, he hoped the next time he saw Arthur would be at their wedding. That he wouldn't run into him again before and be humiliated again in front of the townspeople.

There was only so much humiliation even Merlin could take in a day.

Suddenly, a firm knock came from the door.

Merlin's head snapped up, he jolted up in his seat, dropping his feet to the floor. He stared startled at the door. He let his hand fall to his lap as if he was trying to hide it from view.

Merlin almost felt as if he had been doing something wrong. As if whoever was at his door would come in and be able to tell that he had been doing something bad.

All he had been doing was touching his wrist! But he had been thinking about Arthur while he did it. And that alone almost made him feel dirty, just like Arthur had made him feel that afternoon.

As if he was nothing more than the dirt under his boots.

Merlin had been caught up in his thoughts for to long. A second knock came from the door.

After staring at it for a minute to long, Merlin finally got to his feet and headed to the door. He couldn't think of anybody that would visit or come to see him.

Merlin brought his hand to the door handle and started to pull it open.

Several floors down, Morris was strutting down a stone hallway, heading to the kitchens. It was time for lunch so he had to pick up Arthur's meal.

He had ordered the kitchens to have all of Arthur's favorites prepared by the time he got there.

Morris had long decided to push Merlin out of mind. One peasant boy wasn't going to stop him from doing his job as Arthur's manservant. Besides, what were the odds that he would ever see the boy again.

Morris smirked, remembering how Arthur had put the peasant boy in his place. Good, he deserved nothing less. He could laugh now about the incident, remembering the boy's horrified face when Arthur had told him exactly who he was.

It felt good, not being the one Arthur had his ire on.

Morris reached the kitchen doors and flung them open with all the force of someone who had way to much confidence. "I'm here!" He announced, as if he was someone special that they had all been waiting for. "The prince's food had better be done!"

The large woman who had made the kitchen's her domain, turned at the sound of his voice. "Morris," she said with a slight sneer in her voice. She was far to old to care about this boy's overconfidence.

But her attitude may also be because she didn't like anyone.

"Clara," he said back, a slight sneer to his own face. He didn't like Clara at all, being that she always questioned him instead of just following his mindless orders. Like when Morris would get a few of the kitchen girls to do his chores for him every few days.

Arthur didn't have to know that Morris would sometimes, more often than not, delegated his chores to another servant. Arthur was far to busy being who he was to notice if another servant dropped off his clothes for Morris to organize. Or if the servants plated all his food and Morris just picked it up.

"So where's my food?" Morris asked, hands on his hips as he gave Clara a look of disdain. He wanted to get a move on so that he could head upstairs. He remembered how Arthur and his friends had been laughing at the moron out in the courtyard before his friends had taken him away.

He wanted to be in on that.

He wanted to go upstairs and make a joke about it. Something that would make Arthur laugh.

Who knew that he could actually use the peasant boy for something?

Maybe he could make it like an inside joke thing. A comment that only him and Arthur would understand.

Morris could make a snide comment about the joke. Everybody in the vicinity would just look confused while he and Arthur laughed like they were old friends.

It'd be perfect!

A way to get an in with Arthur that was more than a manservant usually did.

It could be a first step in getting noticed as more than just a servant.

Clara gave Morris a death glare, refusing to cower before what was essentially a child in her eyes. How the prince could stand to have someone like that around at his beck and call was something that she would never understand.

"My girls are plating it up." Clara hissed out through her gapped teeth. "You did order quite a bit more than usual." She raised an eyebrow. "All of the prince's favorites? For just one meal by himself?"

Morris scowled. He always made sure every meal Arthur had was fit for a king. Several plates to pick from. Most of it went to waste because no human could possibly eat so much. The servants usually would have picked through the untouched food for their own dinner like they did when the castle hosted a fancy party.

Only Morris always threw out Arthur's leftovers, usually to the dogs. The hunting hounds that were kept outback although Arthur rarely, if ever, took them along on his hunting trips. He preferred showing his skills by getting his catch without assistance.

"Madame Clara, we're done now." One of the serving girls called, carrying a platter in her hands. There were five other girl's behind her, each carrying an identical platter. Each tray had a silver lid on top of it, to keep the food from getting cold and ruining.

Morris glanced over to the serving girls. They made a line in front of him. He took his time lifting each lid, checking each plate to make sure it was perfect. Clara watched with pursed lips, wanting to throw her ladle across the back of his head. Her girls knew how to do their job. She had no doubt that the prepared food was perfect. Especially since her girl's knew they would be bringing it up to the prince's suite.

Heaven forbid Morris actually do his job and carry any of it himself.

The girls were tense as he checked the food, waiting for him to announce any flaws. And these particular girls had learned long ago that yes, Morris wouldn't hesitate if he thought even the slightest thing was out of place.

Hell, sometimes Morris would point out something so small that not any other person on the planet would have cared about.

Like now.

Morris gave a disgruntled look to the forth girl in line. The girl swallowed hard, looking like she was sweating a little. Morris liked it when he made them sweat. It gave them an incentive to do better next time.

Morris reached for the platter and fixed the knife set on the side. Instead of being completely straight, it was pointed just slightly to the side. Something that only happened because the girl had to carry the tray.

After it was straight, Morris gave the girl a sneer before checking on the fifth serving girl's platter.

The forth sighed in relief, relaxing when Morris moved on. But Morris heard it and shot her a glare, promising something horrible if she said anything again.

The girl quickly straightened her spine, moving to stand just like the other girls. All five of them were like a matched set with how they stood.

Morris smirked, he couldn't actually do much to them, he was still a servant after all. But he did have a close connection to the prince. These regular servants didn't want Morris to do to them what he had done to Browen

Browen was a kitchen servant that was basically now a delivery girl. She had made the mistake of running behind during cooking the Prince's breakfast, making Morris speed walk to get the prince his breakfast on time.

Morris had spread a vicious rumor about her tampering with the food. Now she wasn't allowed to touch anything that wasn't handed to her. Her sole job was delivering the food to where it was supposed to go.

It only paid half as much as the wage of a kitchen servant did.

Morris glanced up from inspecting the fifth platter, "Mary, darling," he said slowly, a smirk on his face. "I have a load of the prince's laundry that needs to be done. I'll pick it up in the morning."

He didn't even bother asking if she'd help him out with his chores. Just told her to do it as if he was her boss. Mary had to bite back her sharp retort.

She couldn't afford to lose this job. Her family was barely staying a float as it was.

"Alright ladies, let's get to the prince's chambers, he is expecting his lunch." Morris ordered, snapping his finger in a 'chop chop' motion. As if they were dogs trained to leap at his command.

"Absolutely not!" A shrill voice suddenly snapped. It was right near Morris' ear, making him flinch at the sudden noise.

Morris gave a death glare to the matron of the kitchen, "Excuse me?" He said darkly, clenching his teeth. "I am the prince's manser-"

"I already know that!" Clara cut him off, making Morris' jaw lock. The audacity of this woman to cut him off. "Everybody already knows that!"

He went on about it constantly, the woman thought with a sneer, refusing to be pushed around by a boy half her age. He may be manservant to a prince but Clara had been running this kitchen since before he was born. "My girls will bring the food," she said darkly, crossing her arms. She had to or risk the temptation of hitting the little jackass across the face with her ladle. "But Mary cannot do the laundry, which isn't that your job?"

Morris' eyes lit up like fire, "And why not?" He spit out, jaw clenched so tightly that it was hurting his teeth. He didn't make Mary do the laundry all the time but he did seek her out at least once a month. Mary had some strong hands for a woman. She was able to get stains out easier than Morris had been able to.

And Morris had other things to do than waste a day scrubbing bloodstains or grass stains out of Arthur's tunics and pants.

"There is far to much work here to be done."

Clara said, tone clipped. "All of my girl's need to be here so we'll be on time for the prince's wedding!"

Morris didn't say anything for a long minute. It was like everything around them had suddenly gone quiet. He couldn't hear a thing. His ears felt full, like he had cotton stuffed in them. It was like he'd gone brain dead or something, unable to comprehend what he'd just heard.

Clara was still talking, really starting to let her rage out, but Morris hadn't caught a single word she said.

"And another thing-" Clara's shrill voice suddenly broke through the fog he had found himself in.

Morris snapped back to attention, a rush of sound meeting him. The girl's shifting from foot to foot. The platters they carried giving off a light clang of metal every time they moved. Madame Clara's voice going off shrilly, almost breaking everybody's eardrums.

Morris held up a hand as if to tell her to stop talking. Clara's face turned a blistering red in her anger. Her hand was clenched so tightly around her ladle that he almost thought she was preparing to hit him with it.

But he didn't pay it much mind, his mind already grasping onto one singular fact.

Had she just said, the prince's wedding. She couldn't have just said what he thought she had. Morris may not care to know everything that goes on in the day to day life of the castle servants but there was no way he missed something that had to do with Arthur.

Morris practically studied the man every chance he could get. Mainly so that he could learn how to emulate nobility. He refused to believe he had missed something as important as a marriage announcement.

Especially since that meant Arthur's princess would have her own handmaiden. As the prince's manservant, he would have to work closely with the handmaiden to make sure their Master/Mistress' day went as smoothly as possible.

Morris never did work well with others.

"Madame," Morris said forcefully, his wide smile looking a little to clenched to be natural. "I believe that there is some mistake. The prince is not going to marry. As his manservant, I believe I would be," he stopped to smooth out his already straight tunic collar, looking like he was feeling more self-important about himself than he actually was. "The first to know."

Clara moved her ladle so that she was holding it in both hands on each side. She had to so much anger in her that she was trying to bend the ladle. It was a good thing it was a metal one and not wooden or it would have snapped in half.

"I believe," Clara said forcefully, jaw locked and eyes on fire. "That you will find that the King announced it yesterday afternoon. The prince is to be married by the morrow."

Morris blinked dumbly for a second. He looked from Madame Clara to the kitchen girls who all nodded their heads, telling him that yes, it was true.

Morris blinked a few more times, unable to comprehend. This...this wasn't happening. He was supposed to have time to prepare! He was supposed to be the one of the first people to hear the news. Did the whole kingdom know? Was he the last to know?

Uther was suppose to select a bride. The proceedings and negotiating with the bride's father about what each family could bring into the marriage was a task that could take months. The prince and his bride should have had several chaperoned meetings to at least pretend for the people that they wanted to marry each other.

It shouldn't have been handled and pushed through within days!

What kind of phony arrangement was this?! At that moment, Morris actually looked as if he'd swallowed a toad. The way his cheeks were puffed out, eyes bugged out. It definitely looked like he was choking on something.

He refused to believe it. There was no way all of this had happened so fast.

Morris was supposed to have time. He was suppose to have time to give Arthur a slow seduction, make the boy fall for him before he'd even realized he'd fallen.

He wasn't supposed to have no time at all!

Who did Uther and Arthur think they were? To not inform him of these unfortunate events as soon as the decision was made. He should have known long before the day before the wedding. He was the prince's manservant! It should have been made a priority for him to know, especially before any of the other servants!

Who was this tramp marrying Arthur? This bitch who thought that she could just swoop in out of nowhere's and take Arthur from him? He had not worked all these years just for someone to snatch the prince away from him! To have someone else sitting on a throne that was meant for him and nobody else!

Without another word, Morris turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchens. He practically threw the doors open in his haste hard enough for them to bang against the wall.

He would just have to demand some answers then.

The girls looked at each other, uncertain about what they were supposed to do now. Each was still holding her serving tray, wondering if they should put them in the stone oven to keep warm.

Clara, still glaring after Morris, turned to her girls with a frightening scowl. She gave a click of her tongue before thrusting her head in Morris' direction.

The five girls quickly nodded and forming a line, hurried after Morris.

"Oh, and Mary!" Clara called, stopping the fifth serving girl from leaving.

Mary pulled to a stop in the doorway, watching her fellow workers hurry off down the hallway before she turned to look back. "Uh, yes? Madame Clara?"

Clara huffed annoyed, face still as red as it could be, "Mary Ann Louis, do not do his laundry if he tries again." She hissed. "You are needed here. We need every able body in this kitchen." They were running behind already. Clara was petrified that they wouldn't have everything ready in time.

Prince Arthur's wedding was probably the biggest event that had happened since Uther was declared king almost twenty five years ago.

The food had to be perfect.

Madame Clara would make sure that everything was perfect.

Mary quickly nodded, looking terrified at the Madame using her full name. Holding her slightly to large tray awkwardly, she hurried out of the kitchens and towards the prince's room. She could only hope that she would catch up with the other girl's before they reached the prince's bedchambers.

Upstairs, there was chaos going on in the royal wing. More specifically, there was chaos going on in Merlin's room.

"Uh, is all of this really necessary?" Merlin asked, looking nervous. He was standing on a stool in the middle of his room. He'd been stripped to his smallclothes, quite unwillingly on his part, but he was now mostly swimming in several layers of fabric.

"Of course, darling!" Madame Teresa exclaimed in a thick accent, looking scandalous at the thought that she do anything less. She was a sickly, skinny woman, wearing a long and dark purple dress with a lighter purple shawl tugged over her frail shoulders. She was shorter, almost the size of a child but clearly much older. The glasses she wore were large and almost made her eyes looked far to big to be human.

She was also absolutely terrifying.

She controlled the room easily. It hadn't taken long for her to get Merlin out of his clothes. It had actually taken longer to convince her that yes, he was suppose to be in here. That no, he wasn't a servant to the bride and was in here cleaning her chambers for her.

And then again that yes, he was positive he wasn't the servant. That yes, these were his chambers, as King Uther had instructed him to be brought here.

It took a little longer for the woman to understand that there was no bride, only him. But to Merlin's surprise, once she made the connection, she dismissed it.

She had brought up several swatches of colors with her. She had sorted through them and tossed the more girlier colors, like pink or lilac to the side. She didn't have as many colors now but had brought different shades of darker colors in case Merlin's skin tone didn't set right with the lighter colors.

Merlin wasn't exactly sure what his skin tone had to do with color and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to understand any explanation Madame Teresa could have given him.

As she said, she would have brought up her more 'man suited' colors, if the king had bothered to inform her that he was a man and not the princess that she had assumed.

Merlin was completely out of his element here. He was looking more lost than he did when he was actually lost when he was exploring the castle earlier.

Madame Teresa was standing in front of him, her arms crossed and she focused hard on the small colors of fabric stretched over his shoulders.

There were also two young teenage girl's, her assistants. Merlin winced as one of them wrapped her measuring rope around his waist a little to tight, checking his exact measurements. She had measured several areas of his body already. Like the length of his arm to his fingertips, the size of his legs. Even the width of his chest. Merlin didn't even know so much had to be done for clothes to be made. He usually just wore hand-me-down's from the other villagers who took pity on a boy without a father and gave him their old clothes.

The girl took away the measuring rope only because she had to write down the numbers on her little piece of parchment. She clicked her tongue as she did so and Merlin wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Merlin was man enough to admit that he screwed up, a lot. But he couldn't have possibly messed up his own measurements. Although if there was a way to do that, he would be the one to find it.

The other girl stood on his other side, laying two swatches of fabric over his shoulders. Personally, they both looked the exact shape of blue to him but apparently one was a midnight blue and the other a cobalt blue.

Although how it was possible to tell the difference was a complete mystery to him.

Madame Teresa had ultimately decided that a blue shade for his tunic would work out nicely. Apparently blue worked wonders for his skin tone and made his eyes pop. He still wasn't sure how making your eyes pop was a good thing. It sounded dangerous to him.

"Cobalt." Madame Teresa ultimately decided, nodding her head as she remained firm in her decision. She acted like picking the wrong color would ruin the entire thing. "What do you think, Merlin? Cobalt very nice color, yes?"

Merlin's eyes flickered to her and back to the colors hanging off his shoulders and onto his chest. He had no idea which one was cobalt but Madame Teresa was obviously waiting for an answer.

"Er, yes!" Merlin stuttered, feeling weirded out. "Cobalt," his tongue twisted oddly around the unfamiliar words. "...Very nice."

Madame Teresa looked pleased. "Yes, your wedding clothes will look marvelous!" She exclaimed brightly. "It will be much better than your...other clothing." She gave a sniff of disdain. She cast a look over at the clothes he'd been wearing, dumped on the floor waiting for him to need them again. She almost looked like she wanted to set them on fire although he couldn't see anything wrong with his clothes.

The fabrics she was apparently going to use for his wedding outfit though, was very uncomfortable. There was nothing wrong with it per-say. It was just made of a much richer fabric that he was used to. He had been able to rub his fingers over it before one of the girl's brushed his hand away so that she could test the color on his skin without his hand in the way.

It was thick and rich. If he had to guess, he would say that it was made of velvet. But he could only assume because he'd never touched actual velvet before.

It gave him an itch, imagining wearing something so richly made. Did nobody realize what he could do to his normal clothes? Let along clothes this expensive. He would probably spill something and make a huge stain on it. Or trip and have it rip somewhere embarrassing.

"Alright ladies!" Madame Teresa announced brightly. "We will dress him in blue. But we will need to dig out the red fabric as well. To make a cape, of course."

Merlin's eyes widened, "A-a cape?" He stuttered as the girl's finally stopped touching him, having been rearranging his limbs to get more measurements. "Whatever for?"

Madame Teresa raised her eyebrow, peering at him from over the top of her wire framed glasses. "Why, my dear boy, you are being married into the Pendragon family. You can't possibly go out there without one. It would be a disgrace."

"...Right," Merlin said slowly, more confused than ever. Did he really need a cape? He was going to look so stupid. He could see it now, people talking about the stupid farm boy that looked ridiculous in his own wedding clothes.

Madame Teresa paid him no more mind. She instead clapped her hands together. Her two assistants practically jumped to attention, moving away from Merlin to stand in front of him.

Merlin awkwardly fidgeted with the swatch of blue fabric still hanging off his shoulders.

"Alright ladies!" Madame Teresa announced. "We will be working all night!" Her eyes looked like they were on fire, making Merlin nervous. How did anybody that small look as if she could take up an entire room by herself? He almost took a step back before remembering that he was standing on a wooden stool.

It wobbled underneath him and he yelped as he fell straight off the back end. The stool hit it's side with a loud clamber against the wood flooring. Merlin groaned from his back, looking up at his ceiling. He was tangled in a mess of fabrics.

Madame Teresa sighed loudly, crossing her arms. "We have a lot of work to do." Her two assistants looked at each other uncertain. Was this boy really marrying the prince? He was so uncoordinated that it was ridiculous.

There was a sudden knock on the door, making the room go quiet.

Merlin groaned quietly to himself. Why not add another person to see his humiliation? With a muttered curse to himself, he sat up. He almost looked like a newborn deer, with how much he struggled to get righted. His eyes shifted to the floor as he brought a hand up to rub a hand over his face, almost as if he was trying to hide the red creeping up onto his cheeks. The oversized fabric he was twisted in made him seem even smaller, thinner, than he already was.

When the knock sounded again, Merlin finally called out, "Come in!" Might as well get this over with, he thought.

Madame Teresa suddenly gave a loud and over exaggerated gasp as the door started to swing open. It had barely been pushed two inches before the Madame was jumping in front of it, slamming it shut. There was a muffled shout of surprise from the other side.

"You can't just invite people into your quarters!" Madame Teresa exclaimed, looking scandalized. She lowered her voice into a hissing whisper. "What if it's the prince? It's bad luck to see the outfit before the wedding!"

Merlin blinked dumbly for a minute. It took a second to understand what she had just said, startled by her sudden flight across the room. Then he scoffed and waved a hand, "Trust me," he said dryly. "I'm sure Arthur has better things to do than come see me."

The two assistants against the wall, starting to pack up their equipment, shared a look before bursting into quiet giggles. Merlin had called the prince by his birth name. Nobody ever did that around here, not unless they were important enough to get away from it.

Madame Teresa still looked unmoved by this. "Well you are also not presentable." She pointed out the mess of fabric over his shoulders.

Merlin glanced down at himself, feeling his awkwardness return as he realized he was standing in the middle of his room. All he had on was his smallclothes and the fabric slung around him.

And he didn't even have that as one of the assistants helped untangle it from around him.

The knock came on the door again. "Excuse me!" A voice called from the other side. "I have dinner ready for the prince's intended."

Madame Teresa hissed at Merlin to get his clothes on. It wouldn't do for somebody else to see the prince's intended without his clothing. What if word got out and people started thinking he was a hussy or something.

No! Madame Teresa refused to have that happen on her watch. She had a good reputation to hold onto to. In her mind, only the royal tailor like her and her assistants, and maybe the physician, was allowed to see the boy in his small clothes.

And only the prince was allowed to see him in less than that.

Merlin was finally free of the fabric but one of the assistants started pushing him until he was hidden behind his changing stand. And the other assistant threw his normal clothes over the wall.

Merlin sputtered as his tunic landed on his head, cutting off his sight until he was able to tug it off.

Grumbling under his breath, Merlin grabbed his pants first. He had to jump and wiggle to get his snug pants over his hips.

It was only after he was securely hidden behind his privacy screen did Madame Teresa open the door. But even then, it was just far enough for her to peek her head out.

The serving girl gave the tailor a disgruntled look. Madame Teresa shot her a glare back. Didn't people know that she needed total control to be able to do her work.

The boy would look absolutely stunning once she was done! But only if she wasn't interrupted!

The serving girl scowled, "Dinner, ma'am. For the prince's intended." She recognized the tailor instantly. The woman was the one that did the dressing for the royal family specifically. A few lesser nobles would stop by just to ask for her.

Madame Teresa glanced down at the tray the serving girl was holding. "I'll take that." She reached out a hand for the tray.

The serving girl protested, "I really should give this personally." She tried to peek in over the Madame's head, trying to get a look inside. Could you blame her? Everybody was curious about the one the prince was marrying.

Madame Teresa narrowed her eyes, closing the door a little so that she couldn't see inside. She took the confidentiality of her clients seriously. Merlin may not be paying her but the king was. That was good enough for her to give the boy the same privacy she afforded her richer clients.

The serving girl scowled when Madame Teresa stopped her from seeing anything inside.

Madame Teresa just gave her an innocent, tight lipped smile. "I really insist on doing it myself." The tailor reached out and grabbed the tray, practically prying it out of the serving girl's hands. "Thank you, Darling." She said brightly, before slamming the door in her face.

The serving girl glared at the door in her face before huffing and storming off. She would just have to get her gossip elsewhere.

She stomped past Prince Arthur's room. The door swung open just as she was doing so, making her jump back startled as five kitchen girl's walked out.

Inside the room, Morris was taking the lid's off of the tray's. He set the lid's aside one by one, a little harder than he meant to.

Arthur sat at the table, waiting impatiently. He was already grabbing one of the tray's to pull to him, putting a slice of thick ham onto his plate.

He grabbed his knife to start cutting into it, ignoring Morris who was grabbing another plate. He was putting smaller portions of the food onto it for the prince to pick through at his leisure.

Arthur bit the slice of juicy ham off of his fork. He raised an eyebrow when he finally registered just how much food was on the table. He was used to an abundance of food to pick from but this much seemed a little more excessive than usual.

Arthur gave a glance to Morris who had started straightening up the room. The manservant was at his desk, fixing his papers up.

"What's with all the food?" Arthur grunted, glancing back down at his food, stuffing another piece into his mouth.

Morris glanced up. His lips were pressed firmly together, forcing the scowl off of his face. "It's to celebrate, sire." He said, setting the rolled up parchments on the desk into a neat little pile.

Arthur nodded, not bothering to glance up from his food. He took another bite before he registered Morris' words. "...Celebrating?" He asked. Had he forgotten something? He couldn't think of anything he should be celebrating.

"...Your wedding, sire." Morris practically spit out. He bent down to angrily snatch up the clothes Arthur had worn today that had been tossed uncaringly on the floor.

Arthur froze, the fork halfway to his mouth, this time a bite of roast on it. The meal suddenly wasn't as appetizing anymore. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to put the roast into his mouth, chewing slowly.

It tasted like ash in his mouth.

Morris felt his lips thinning, eyes flashing as he shot a glare at Arthur's back. The prince wasn't even going to give him an explanation, was he? He was just going to sit there and eat his dinner like everything was just peachy.

After a moment of silence had passed and Morris had a basket of dirty clothes in hand, he couldn't take it anymore. He slammed the basket, probably a little harder than he had needed to, onto the edge of Arthur's dinner table.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were getting married?" Morris demanded, tone harsh.

On a normal day, he would have never dared to talk to the prince like that. But this wasn't just any old day. This was Morris practically seeing all the plans he'd had falling apart before his very eyes.

Something in him had just seemed to snap.

Arthur's eyes narrowed dangerously at the tone Morris had used on him. The blonde stabbed a piece of roast with his fork, a little harsher than he had meant to. The fork clanged as it went through the meat and hit the plate.

"I don't need to tell you anything." Arthur hissed, ready to have his manservant thrown in the stocks for his insolence. "You are my servant."

Morris felt his jaw lock. He had been a faithful and loyal servant all these years, hoping to keep on Arthur's good side. Did none of it matter? Was he still just a servant. Was that all Arthur saw him as? He had thought that he had been getting somewhere. For as bad as the prince treated him, he'd had it stuck in his head that Arthur at least thought of him fondly by this point.

But no.

Arthur didn't think of him fondly, didn't think of him at all. He was just one more servant that could be replaced at any moment without a second thought.

What little confidence he'd had drained away at the thought. Had all of his years of dedicated work been for nothing?

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. That Arthur would never look twice at a servant. Especially not with the way he'd been going about it. Just keeping his head down and making sure the prince's day went smoothly.

He should have made the prince fall in love with him years ago. Not wait till the last minute because now, now there would be no time before the marriage.

Already, a new plan was going through his mind. His plan reworking itself to fit this bump in the road.

He would have his throne, even if he had to go through Arthur's fiancé to get it.

"Get out." Arthur's voice suddenly said, cold, snapping Morris out of his thoughts.

"W-what?" He stuttered. Arthur had kicked him out before but he'd never sounded so cold when doing it.

"You heard me," Arthur snapped. What little good mood he'd had had completely evaporated. He couldn't even enjoy his dinner now. "Go, before I have you spend the night in the stocks."

Arthur usually would have had somebody thrown in the stocks anyway for how Morris had just spoken to him. But he wasn't in the mood right now. He just wanted the manservant gone so that he could wallow in his self pity.

Morris swallowed hard, he bowed before picking up his basket of laundry. "Yes, sire." He said with an almost dark undertone.

Arthur hadn't noticed. He'd already shoved his plate away from himself and retreated back to his safe place against his window.

Morris backed out of the room, softly closing the door behind him as he left. Only as he stepped out into the hallway did his eyes light up like they were on fire.

Morris stormed down the hallway, glaring daggers at the ground in front of him. He was going to get Arthur, one way or the other, he was going to get his throne.

If he had to break Arthur's fiancé to get it, then so be it.

Down in Merlin's room, he sat at his desk. Madame Teresa and her two assistants had finally left him alone after he'd finished dressing. Something about making sure he was decent in case anybody tried busting in on him before he went to bed.

Now he was alone in his room. Madame Teresa might be a touch to much but he'd almost wished that she had stayed. At least he would have had someone to talk to so it wouldn't be so quiet.

But no.

Madame Teresa and her two assistants had left in a hurry. Something about needing to get his wedding clothes prepared.

Honestly, he didn't even see what was the big deal about his wedding clothes. He'd be more than happy to walk down the aisle wearing exactly what he was wearing now.

If it wasn't good enough for these snooty nobles, then they could send him straight back home.

Didn't he wish that something as simple as his clothes would have been enough to get him sent home.

Grumbling to himself, Merlin rested his chin in the palm of his hand. He picked up his fork and stabbed it into the roast that had been given to him for dinner.

Automatically, not paying any attention to the meal, Merlin stuck the bite in his mouth.

"...Crap, that's good." Merlin groaned after he swallowed. He didn't hesitate to dig in with a full gusto. He hadn't even known that food could taste so good. How tender it was, practically melting in his mouth.

And it was hot. As in freshly made hot.

Not just leftovers heated up over a fire.

When was the last time he had fresh meat so well prepared? Never actually, now that he had thought of it. People back home were just relieved when they had food. They didn't have the resources to season it like this roast was.

He wondered if he could sneak whatever spices they had used and send it to his mother to make her food more appetizing.

That brought him to a stop, another bite halfway to his mouth. Would he be able to send his mother anything? Even just a letter, letting her know that he was alright. Even if he had to lie to her if it turned out that Arthur was a bigger arse than he thought.

Merlin let his eyes flicker down to his plate. His plate was full, something that never happened in Ealdor. It was mostly scraps. How could he sit here eating this? Especially with knowing that his home, his people, were practically starving.

Merlin dropped his fork, hearing it clatter onto the plate. He went to shove it away from him before he froze.

His mother would kill him if she knew that he was wasting food. Especially since anything could happen at any time and he might not get to eat for some time.

So forcing back the sickening feeling in his gut, Merlin grabbed the plate and pulled it back to him. He wrapped his arm around the plate, as if somebody would come in at any time and try taking it from him.

It was just one giant slab of meat. More than he'd ever eaten before in one meal. He was only able to eat half of it before he started feeling as if he'd be sick if he ate anymore.

He'd never felt so full in his life. He was used to feeling not completely satisfied, or on the side where he just wanted to snack on something but couldn't.

This bloated feeling in his stomach was completely new territory. He hadn't even known that somebody could get sick from eating so much.

So fearing that he might actually get sick, Merlin grabbed the lid and covered up his food. He picked it up and carried it over to his nightstand, setting it on the edge.

The food wouldn't go to waste. He would just have the leftovers for breakfast.

Merlin smiled. That was what he would do. He wouldn't waste the food but he wasn't going to make himself sick either.

Now that he was done with dinner, Merlin glanced around his bare room. It was an elaborated, decorative room, but he literally had not a single thing to do in it.

The room was also getting dark as well. Night had fallen and his room was casting shadows across his walls. He had one or two candles lit but they were small, their flickering flames looking like they would go out at any minute.

Merlin cast a glance in the direction of his new bed. With nothing to do, he contemplated on just going to sleep.

But he couldn't.

If he went to sleep now, time would speed up and before he'd know it, he'd be awake again. And he was not looking forward to waking up in the morning.

Because tomorrow would be his wedding. Sometime tomorrow, he'd be married to the prince of Camelot.

Or as Merlin thought of him, the prat of Camelot.

Merlin turned away from his bed and ended up standing at his windows. The stars were shining down on him, he could see the fires being lit in the town as the sky darkened and people started returning to their homes.

His breath caught.

It was unfair that with all of the turmoil that his life had become, that he could still see the beauty in this view. He could practically see for miles from up here and he couldn't begin to imagine waking up everyday to a view like this.

Merlin felt a lump grow in his throat.

Honestly? He didn't want this view. He wanted to be downstairs, getting ready for bed. For his bed down in Uncle Gaius' chambers. It may not be as high up as he was now but he couldn't imagine another place within the city that he would rather be right now.

But there was nothing he could do. As Leon had stated, he was pretty much under house arrest. So what if he had tried to punch Arthur? Merlin had no doubt that he would probably want to many times in the days to come.

And Arthur would deserve it if that was how he was planning to act in their marriage life.

This wasn't the marriage Merlin wanted.

Where was the love and the trust and the dedication to no one but each other?

Merlin scoffed bitterly.

His mother used to tell him old fairy tales before bed. Stories of dashing knights rescuing fair princess's. Or of serving boy's who rescued the damsel in distress. Or even that one story where the sorcerer who couldn't control his magic, decided to save himself instead of waiting for Prince Charming.

But those were nothing but stories.

Just made up stories his mother would tell him to get him to sleep as a child. Stories where everybody ended up happy in the end. Stories that never left you wondering if they got their happy endings.

He had no Prince Charming. No somebody that would sweep him off his feet. Nobody that Merlin could share his deepest and darkest secrets with, knowing that that somebody would take his secret to the grave if he had to just to keep Merlin safe.

Merlin wouldn't have his happy ending. He wasn't a child anymore, he didn't have time to fantasize about childish stories. Or the time to wish that his life was more like those stories.

This was his reality and hiding behind childish dreams wouldn't change a damn think.

Merlin should have learned by now, at his age. There were no such things as happy endings, not for people like him at least.

Merlin's eyes caught a figure in the courtyard, riding on horseback. He was far to high up to really see anything about them. He watched as the figure climbed off the horse and started walking to the castle.

When the figure had disappeared to where he couldn't see them, Merlin pushed away from the windows. He grabbed the thick teal curtains and yanked them shut, closing off his view of the city.

Maybe if he was lucky, he'd be able to pretend that he was back home. With the curtains closed, he couldn't see the city outside. He could almost pretend that this room was his hut and any minute now, his mother would come walking in with their dinner in her hands.

But she wasn't going to.

He was in Camelot. He wasn't going to spend his night helping his mother prepare dinner. His dinner had been brought to him by a servant. He wasn't going to sleep on a flat surface, he was going to sleep on a bed he hated. His mother wouldn't even be asleep near him. He was going to sleep in this huge room alone.

Merlin watched as the candles flickered, going low. And then the light went out altogether, leaving him in the darkness of his room.

He didn't bother relighting them. He wanted it to be dark. It was easier to pretend that he was anywhere else. Even at an inn or sleeping at a room in a tavern probably would have been better than this.

Merlin made his way through his room, cursing when he stubbed his toe into the nightstand beside his bed. He grumbled his annoyance to himself. He was a klutz in the light. He should have known he'd be even worse in the dark.

But he still didn't light the candles.

Merlin eased himself down to sit on his bed, frowning when he sunk down into the cushioned mattress. He bent down and carefully tugged his boots off before letting them fall wherever he dropped them at. Then he took off his pants and tossed it somewhere on the floor. Next was his jacket which was thrown somewhere as well.

In just his smallclothes and oversized tunic, Merlin eased himself under his covers. He slid all the way down, letting his head drop to the pillow below him. He tugged the covers up until they were all the way to his chin.

Ha laid there for almost an hour. He would lay on his back just staring up at the ceiling. Then he would turn this way and that way but no matter what position he got in, he just couldn't go to sleep.

Not that he wasn't trying. The hour was getting later and the more tired he was getting. He just couldn't go to sleep.

It was to hot in the room, almost stifling. The covers were thick and just made it worst. At one point, he just gave up and kicked them off but it still didn't help. Now all he felt was the chill on his bare legs.

This bed was to soft, it was irritating him. Who knew that such a soft bed could exist.

Finally, after another hour of tossing and turning, Merlin just couldn't handle it anymore. With a huff, he crawled out of the bed, yelping as he tripped over his boots.

Cursing under his breath, Merlin went to stand up when his hand got tangled in something. It took an embarrassingly long minute before realizing that it was his jacket.

Feeling the heat creeping up the back of his neck, he snatched up his jacket and strode away from his bed.

That was how he ended up laying on the thick rug in front of the unlit fireplace. It was better than the floor of his hut, thick and soft. But it wasn't like the bed that was so unfamiliar, it was impossible to sleep on.

He used his jacket as a makeshift blanket and then his arm as a pillow. Merlin let out a sigh of relief, eyes fluttering close. There, this wasn't to bad.

It didn't matter that he had a full size bed just behind him. He would choose this rug any day of the week.

Within minutes, he was gone to this world, drifting off into sleep.

Just downstairs, not everybody was getting to go to sleep. In fact, it would be a little while before these people would get to retire for bed. Lady Helena was just arriving and it would be improper if anybody other than the king greeted her. Which was why Uther Pendragon sat on his throne, waiting for his knights to guide her there. Morgana stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for the lady's arrival. Her handmaiden Gwen stood right behind her, hands folded in front of her skirts while she waited for any instructions to come her way. There were a handful of guards standing along the walls. They probably wouldn't be needed but members of the royal family could never be to careful.

"Why is she arriving so late?" Morgana asked quietly. "Surely she could have set up camp and just arrived at a decent hour in the morning." The throne room had been lit with torches to light it up. The crescent moon was planted firmly in the sky and it was creeping into the early hours of the morning. Yet Morgana looked as if she were dressed for a party, wearing a silk green dress. Her hair was done in a simple braid tossed over her shoulder.

"Perhaps she just didn't want to spend another night in the woods." Gwen suggested, just as quietly. It wouldn't be proper to be overheard having such an easy going conversation between a noble and servant.

"I suppose." Morgana sighed, staring straight ahead. She was staring at the double doors, almost wishing that they would open. Just so they could greet Lady Helena and then be dismissed.

"I'm sure it won't be to long now, ma'lady." Gwen said encouragingly. One of the knights had arrived only moments ago to let the king know that he had seen Lady Helena arriving at the main gate. It didn't take to long to reach the castle, especially when on horseback.

"Heavens, I hope not." Morgana told her handmaiden. She gave a heavy sigh as her mind started to wonder. As it did, she was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey, Gwen?"

Gwen stood at attention, "Yes?" She asked, wondering if her lady wanted her to fetch her a glass to drink. Or a small snack while they waited. Maybe she wanted Gwen to hurry up to her room and fetch her a light shawl, to combat against the chill forming in the air.

But Morgana didn't want any of those things.

"Have you seen anyone new in the castle?" Morgana asked, eyes flicking over her shoulder to her maid.

Gwen frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Someone...new?" She asked. She couldn't think of anyone. She didn't know everyone who worked in the castle but she could recognize most of them by face alone. Sometimes a new face would pop up before disappearing into the millions of other servants that ran around the castle.

But today? She couldn't think of anyone. All of the servants had been pretty busy setting up for the upcoming festival and wedding. Luckily, Gwen didn't have to since her only job was to take care of Lady Morgana. Although she didn't mind helping out, as she had helped a few of the cleaning girl's dust off the sheets that were being put in the empty guest room's.

Her mind drifted off to earlier. A new face in the castle...she remembered what she had seen earlier that afternoon. The boy in the courtyard that had tried to fight against Prince Arthur. She hadn't been near enough to see the boy's face but even as far as she was, she could see that he was a scrawny thing. There was no chance that he could have beat the prince, but still, it was impressive that he had even tried.

Not many people around here had the guts to.

But she hadn't been able to see their face. For all she knew, it was already somebody she'd seen around from time to time. She couldn't think of anyone who would actually start a fight with Arthur though.

Gwen remembered suddenly that her lady had asked her a question and she still hadn't answered. And now Morgana was giving her a weird look, still waiting for some kind of answer to her question.

"No." Gwen finally said with a curious smile. "Why do you ask?"

Morgana turned her head to look back at the double doors. "No reason." She said with a dismissive smile. "Just curious." She had been hoping that Gwen could have seen someone new hanging around. That someone being Arthur's fiancé. Morgana herself had been keeping an eye out but he was nowhere to be found. She'd even considered briefly to just storm into his room and introduce herself but that just seemed so...classless.

She was a lady. She couldn't be seen going into a strange man's room. And there was often a guard posted in that hallway, protecting the royal chambers even when they were empty. She couldn't risk being seen by him, lest word got around.

Uther was drumming his fingers against the armrest of his throne chair. Even he had a touch of impatience while waiting for the Lady Helena to arrive. While impatience wasn't a good look on a king, nobody would dare correct him on it. Especially when their guest of honor had yet to arrive.

Uther had his ward with him but not his son. He'd given Arthur permission to skip this meet and greet but only on the grounds of it being the night before his wedding. Let the boy get some sleep, he thought. He deserved it with what would be coming next.

The boy would need all the rest he could get before being prepared for his wedding.

Uther, Morgana, and Gwen, were brought out of their conversations and/or thoughts when the double doors suddenly swung open. There was a noticeable shift in King Uther's and Lady Morgana's demeanors.

King Uther immediately stood to welcome their guest, smoothing down invisible wrinkles in his tunic. Morgana's posture straightened up, a demure smile already on her face.

Gwen watched all of this fascinated. It was amazing that two people, noble people, could look so human one moment and than regal the next. It almost would have been to much if Arthur had been there as well, to complete the royal family.

Lady Helena entered the room, walking in a fast pace. It was clear that she wasn't a noble by birth clearly by her posture alone. But the expensive purple dress she wore that trailed out behind her as she walked more than made up for it. Her dark hair fell down her back in a mess of thick waves. A smile was spread across her lips. She only stopped when she arrived at the bottom of the steps to the throne, giving a low curtsy. She paid no attention to Lady Morgana as she passed her, not even sparing her a glance. She had eyes only for the king.

"My king," she said with an almost bashfully, far to gentle smile on her face.

King Uther grinned, pleased, as he walked down the stairs to greet the woman. "Lady Helena, thank you so much for agreeing to sing at our upcoming ceremony." He was pleased greatly by her appearance alone. He has heard of her beauty but he had not been expecting to be so entrapped with it.

'Helena' smiled, eyes finally glancing away from the king to look at the people surrounding them. Her smile dimmed somewhat as she noticed that the young prince was not among them. Oh well, she would find him soon enough.

She plastered on the demure smile that she had practiced having the entire ride to Camelot, "The pleasure is all mine."

Morgana gave Lady Helena a once over. 'Well, she had certainly dressed to impress.' Not even Morgana was wearing a dress that elaborate. Lady Helena had actual lace attached to the bottom of her dress. She even had a golden belt to cinch at her waist. Morgana knew that trick. It was a thing ladies did to make their waistline look slightly smaller than it already was.

King Uther met the singer at the bottom of his stairs, reaching out to cup her soft hands in his own. "How was your journey?"

Helena gave a hearty sigh, as if she was weary from her long travels. "Oh, the time it took, sire." She said with an over-exasperated moan.

Morgana and Gwen shared a look. Both girls almost wanted to laugh at how thickly Lady Helena was laying it on.

But Uther didn't seem to notice at all, to mesmerized by the brown pools of milky chocolate that the lady called her eyes. Uther did what he always did when he met a fair lady for the first time, as it was the gentlemen thing to do. He brought her hands up to his mouth so that he could kiss the back of them, his lips turning up into an already fond smile. "I hope that it was worth the wait." He finally released her hands.

Morgana turned her head to give a raised eyebrow to Gwen. Gwen had to press her lips together to stop from laughing at the expression on Lady Morgana's face.

Was the king really flirting with the wedding singer?

Lady Helena brought her hand up to tug on the red orb fashioned into a necklace around her neck. Nobody noticed the eerie glow it seemed to give off. Helena smiled gently as she answered her king, "It will be."

King Uther smiled before stepping back, swinging out his arm. "May I introduce you to my ward, Lady Morgana."

Morgana quickly turned away from her handmaiden, a practiced smile already on her lips as she walked over to stand beside Uther. "Lady Helena." She said simply, nodding her head in greeting.

Lady Helena quickly curtsied for the girl, "Lady Morgana." She said, far to dismissively for someone who was meeting what was equivalent to a princess around here. Morgana almost felt insulted but didn't dare say anything. She had probably just imagined it. Plus, it wouldn't be a good look when their were so many witnesses if Morgana questioned her.

Lady Helena barely gave her another glance before looking at her king. "And...the prince?" she asked with an almost eager tone.

Morgana's smile never drifted but her eyes shifted to a slightly bored look. Nobody seemed to notice it, they never did. Morgana was a wonderful actress, seeming to be more engaged in what was going on around her than she actually was.

Was that what Lady Helena's dismissiveness towards her had been about. Because she was hoping to meet Arthur? Please tell Morgana that Helena wasn't one of those empty minded, vapid girls that were obsessed with Arthur.

Morgana couldn't see why anybody would be. She wouldn't touch Arthur with a ten foot lance pole.

Uther gave a heavy sigh, looking the picture of fatherly disappointment, "My son has retired early for the evening. You know how it is, pre-wedding jitters and all."

Lady Helena slowly nodded her head, her expression almost taking on a motherly look of concern, "Oh of course, I know exactly how that is."

Morgana didn't let her expression shift, but she was confused by that last statement. As far as she knew, Lady Helena had never married. So how is it that she would have experience when facing pre-wedding jitters?

X

"No! No! Please, don't do this!" Merlin begged as he was dragged up the stairs to the executioner's platform. He hadn't done anything. He had been asleep when the guards had stormed his room and dragged him out.

His head snapped from side to side. His eyes looked wild as he tried to meet eyes with anybody that would help him. But everybody just turned away until all of the faces in the crowd forming seemed to meld together.

Merlin was helpless, he couldn't do anything. Not even his magic rose up to protect him. The guards on either side wore their helmets. From Merlin's angle, he wasn't even able to see their faces.

Merlin pleas were cut off as he was forced to his knees. He tried to shake them off but the guards were like an unmovable force, forcing his head down onto the chopping block.

Merlin's breath was ragged and he was struggling to get air down into his lungs. It was like breathing through a tube. His eyes rose up as the executioner stepped forward. The man brought his ax up to take off Merlin's head.

At the last possible second, Merlin could see under the hood. He stared straight into the cruel eyes of Arthur Pendragon just as the ax came down on him.

X

Merlin jolted up, his hands going straight for his neck. He was still grasping for breath as if he was still on the chopping block, his breath getting more ragged with each exhale. His hands grasped around his neck as if to make sure that it was still attached.

It took several long and desperate minutes for Merlin to finally admit that yes, his neck was still attached to his head. The guards didn't arrest him and Arthur didn't execute him. He was still laying on the rug in his room. The jacket he'd used as a makeshift blanket was now in a puddle around his waist.

Merlin brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes with a groan. It wasn't that bright in here but what little light that was seeping in through the edges of the curtain were giving him a headache.

'Merlin'

Merlin squeezed the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to relax. What was he so worried about? Nobody knew he had magic, he had kept hidden all these years. Nobody was going to find out...right?

'Merlin'

Merlin's ears perked up when he heard someone calling his name. His head shot up and he glanced all around. But it was clear that he was alone. Had he just imagined it? But it had sounded so close, as if it was coming from right beside him, whispering in his ear.

'Merlin'

Merlin jolted to his feet, almost tripping over himself as he backed away from where he had been sleeping. He wasn't imagining it, he actually had heard someone calling his name. And maybe he was wrong, but he could have sworn that it was coming from underneath the floorboards.

When the voice didn't come back again, Merlin cautiously made his way back to the rug. After a minute of hesitation, he got down on his knees. He brought his head to the rug, arse in the air, and tried listening.

But all he could feel was the thickness of the rug under his cheek. He couldn't hear anything.

"Merlin!" A much louder voice suddenly called, his door swinging open.

Merlin yelped startled, jolting to his feet, "Uncle Gaius!" He exclaimed, backing away from the rug as if he'd been caught doing something stupid.

Gaius gave him an exasperated look, letting the door close behind him. "What on earth were you doing?" He made no mention at the boy's state of undress, his legs bare. As Court Physician, he was used to seeing various people in states of undress.

Nothing!" Merlin said quickly, tucking his hands behind his back. "I mean...just sleeping."

Gaius raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing to the rug and then to his bed. The covers were a mess but the pillows were unmoved. It was clear that it hadn't actually been slept in. "And do you often sleep on the floor?" He asked dryly.

Merlin stared at him blankly, "Yeah." He said slowly. He'd never had a real bed before. Just moth eaten sheets and a hard surface. Or maybe a pile of hay if he didn't fall asleep at home.

"...Right." Gaius said confused. He shook his head, remembering why he was here. "What is this that I hear about you being arrested? You never came back last night and this morning, when I heard of a boy having got into a fight with the prince, I knew it had to be you! Nobody else would behave like a total idiot."

Merlin winced, "I'm sorry." He said, ducking his head. Now he just felt bad, making Gaius worry like he was.

"You better be!" Gaius shot back. "And a good question I have for you right now is why aren't you in the dungeons? I just spent an hour down there looking for you before the guard told me they didn't have any new prisoners."

"Oh!" Merlin said. "One of the knights who brought me to Camelot saw me being taken to the dungeons. He brought me up here instead. Apparently I was in house arrest until this morning."

Gaius sighed heavily, "Will wonders never cease? You, out of anybody in this entire kingdom, should keep your head down. And the first thing you do when you're out of sight is start a fight with Arthur?"

"Whoa, whoa," Merlin said quickly, putting his hands up in a stopping motion. "I didn't start that fight. Arthur was being a prat, I was just trying to stop him."

Gaius raised an eyebrow, "And that invoked throwing a punch?

Merlin winced, giving his uncle a weak smile. "You...heard about that one, huh?"

"It's kind of hard not to, the entire town is buzzing about it." Gaius said dryly. This boy confounded him. How in the world did he manage to get himself arrested so soon? He hoped it wouldn't become a pattern with the boy.

Merlin groaned loudly, "Great." He muttered to himself. He stepped away from his Uncle Gaius to take a seat on the edge of his bed. He slouched over, resting his elbows onto his knees and his chin in his hands. What a way to be remembered. Not for getting married to the prince. No, the first thing anybody actually knew about him was that he tried to hit him.

Gaius' eyes softened, looking down at the miserable boy. Camelot was chalk full of gossipers. When something big happened, like a peasant attacking royalty, it almost spread faster than a wildfire would have. Gaius made his way over to his nephew and sat down on the edge of the bed beside him.

They sat there in silence for a minute before Merlin couldn't take it anymore. "He's just so...so...horrible!" he exclaimed, waving out one of his arms. "Going around like he's hot shit or something."

"Well he is the prince." Gaius said quietly. "Other than the king, he probably is the most important person in the kingdom. Something like that has a way of going to people's heads."

Merlin scoffed, sitting straight up now. "Going to his head?" He asked Gaius with a raised eyebrow. "His head is so big that I'm surprised that he can fit through a doorway."

Gaius looked startled by that before chuckling a little at his words. Well, Merlin wasn't wrong. Arthur often did walk around as if his head was swollen. The way he strutted through the lower town, the way he demanded the respect of his people. Arthur was to far in his own certainty to realize that it wasn't respect the people gave him, it was fear. Not fear that he would hurt them, Arthur wasn't cruel enough to seriously hurt someone unarmed. No. They were scared of being humiliated in front of their peers by him. It wasn't just a simple humiliation though. Some people would literally treat them as if they were a pariah, hoping to gain the prince's favor. A literal outcast among their own people.

Not that the prince would have noticed. By then, he'd done moved on to something else.

"So," Gaius said quietly. "Yesterday, I sent you to deliver something. Yet, you managed to get yourself arrested."

"In my defense," Merlin said quickly. "I was heading back to yours when I saw that...that...that cabbage head!" It was the first thing that he could think of to describe him. And he still wasn't sure if that was the right description for him. Someone like Arthur needed a whole new word invented just to describe how condescending and arrogant he was.

Gaius almost looked amused by that. He couldn't remember anyone ever so bluntly insulting the prince before. If Merlin had spoken to Arthur like that, it made perfect sense that the prince had him thrown in jail. A boy like Arthur, with the power he held, wouldn't just sit around and be insulted.

"And you want to know something else?" Merlin kept going, now on a roll. Gaius sat there, listening to his new ward go off, the boy throwing out his arms as he went off about Arthur.

Merlin kept going, not giving Gaius time to attempt an answer. He was on a roll, not breaking stride in his speech as he talked. "He didn't even know who I was! Can you believe that? He had absolutely no idea who I was! I mean, he didn't even so much as blink at my name!"

"Well it will certainly be a story to tell someday." Gaius said dryly.

"What? No!" Merlin exclaimed, turning at his waist so that he was sitting sideways, planting his hands firmly on the mattress between him and Gaius. "I am never speaking of this again! If somebody asks me how we met, I'm making something up!"

Gaius raised an eyebrow, "So a lie would be better off than you trying to punch him and him having you arrested for it?"

"Of course!" Merlin exclaimed. "Anything would be better than the truth. Ugh!" Merlin threw himself backwards. His legs were still dangling off the edge of the bed and he had his hands up on his face. He was using the palms of his hands to rub roughly at his eyes. "How is this my life?" He grumbled to himself.

Gaius shook his head, wondering if the boy always brought this kind of trouble to himself. Nah, Merlin couldn't be so unlucky as to find trouble wherever he went. It was probably just a one off, a fluke. And things would go back to normal after everybody settled down and the wedding was over.

"So Merlin," Gaius interrupted. Merlin had started mumbling to himself, incoherent words that he wasn't able to understand. Merlin still had his hands pressed tightly over his eyes, but he moved one of his hands just slightly to peek out. Gaius could see the briefest hint of blue through the shadow Merlin's palm created over his face. "Was there anything you did yesterday that wouldn't have got you arrested?"

Merlin finally sat up, a contemplative look on his face. "I...didn't break that bottle you told me to deliver."

Gaius gave Merlin a look. Seriously? Out of everything he'd done yesterday, the one thing he could think of, was that he hadn't broken the medication? But then again, that actually probably was a miracle in itself.

Merlin had finally winded down after his long spiral over the mess that his life now was. He hopped off of the bed, heading across the room to the windows. He didn't hesitate to grab the curtains and drag them open, finally letting the sun stream through the stain glass windows.

Merlin felt somewhat peaceful now. His nightmare was a distant memory and the sun on him was warming up his skin nicely. It felt good, really good, and he couldn't wait to step outside.

Ignoring Gaius watching him, Merlin made it to the foot of the bed where his pants still laid in a heap. "I can't wait to get out of here." He said, doing a wiggle hop to get his pants over his slim thighs.

Gaius winced, remembering something he should probably mention to the boy before they went out there. "Yeah...about that," he started slowly, trailing off. How exactly was he supposed to say this?

Merlin glanced up, fiddling with his tunic. It practically swallowed him without his jacket to somewhat keep it from looking as horrible as it did. "What?" Merlin asked distracted, still tugging on his tunic. Maybe he should try tucking it into his pants. Nah, he dismissed that thought. He'd tried that a few months back and had looked like an idiot since he'd had to push so much down into his pants. The way it had stretched against his shoulders had been awful. When Gaius didn't say anything after a moment, Merlin glanced up from his irritating tunic, a frown slipping across his features. "Leon...the knight, he said I only had to stay here till morning."

"That's true," Gaius said, easing himself off of the bed. "But that was..." he couldn't take watching the boy fidget with his tunic anymore. "Oh, here." He finally said, his hands going to his own pants.

Merlin's eyes widened, "Wait, Uncle Gaius! You really don't need to be taking your pants off!" He wailed, feeling his face flush as the panic set in.

Gaius gave him a look, silently asking if he was a dumbass. "What exactly do you think I'm doing?" He asked, unbuckling his belt.

It was a very thin piece of dark, worn out leather, much to small for him anyway. Honestly, he probably should have gotten rid of it ages ago but he'd never bothered going through with it. He rarely wore it anymore. It squeezed him in all of the wrong places and was more of a pain than anything else. But it did its job which was all Gaius had been concerned about. He had another belt at home anyway that was better suited for him and his larger size. The boy would benefit from it more than he would.

"Well, I just...I mean..." Merlin stuttered awkwardly. He fidgeted with his hands badly. One minute, he was scratching the back of his head. The next, he was yanking on his tunic or reaching out to awkwardly smooth down the blankets on the bed. Although really, all he was doing was making a mess of the bed.

Gaius raised an eyebrow at him until Merlin finally stopped stuttering. Honestly, Merlin hadn't been sure what the man was doing. It was more of a reflex reaction than anything else.

"Here." Gaius said, thrusting out the belt to his nephew. "You can use this to flatten out that tunic of yours. It's to small for me anyway."

Merlin's eyes snapped down to the old belt in his uncle's hand. The surprise was clear on his face. He hadn't been expecting the man to help him. His own mother hadn't been able to find a suitable solution to his tunic problem other than the jacket to help hide how baggy it was. It was the only option they had. Mother had always said that he'd grow into it. Merlin said that he would only grow into it if he gained another twenty pounds.

"Uh...thanks," Merlin grinned, taking the belt. He'd never owned one before. Leather wasn't exactly something that they had an abundance of. One or two people back home may have an old one that's been passed down a generation or two. Most people used some kind of rope and that was only if they bothered with it at all.

He felt the belt under his hands, catching the faint scent of something that could only be described as leather. After messing with it for a moment, he slid the belt around his back, circling it around his waist. It took him a moment of fidgeting with the clasp before figuring out how to lock the buckle into place.

Looking down at himself to see how it looked, he realized that it wasn't half bad. The belt cinched at his waist, pinning his tunic into place. It was still long, falling just a few inches to much pass his waist but it felt better. It didn't look like he was drowning so much in it. It was easier to see how slim he was.

Merlin glanced up, bright smile on his face as his hands played with the buckle that was settled right over where his belly button was. "So, what were you saying?" Merlin asked.

He watched as Gaius' brows crinkled together, looking confused. The physician had forgotten what he was talking about as he'd been watching Merlin play in fascination with his new belt. "About what?"

Merlin's smile dimmed somewhat as he remembered the ending of their conversation before Uncle Gaius had given him his belt. "About my...house arrest," he said slowly, an awkward look on his face.

That brought Gaius up short when he remembered exactly what he was talking about before. "Oh, right, that." He said slowly, clearly taking his time to get this out.

"Uncle Gaius, what is it?" Merlin asked frowning.

"Well," Gaius finally went on with it. "I was trying to pull a few strings to get you released when I thought that you were in the dungeon." Merlin started to grin again, which disappeared at his uncle's next words. "There's a catch though, a small price to pay for an early release."

"...What price?" Merlin asked cautiously. The way Uncle Gaius was talking, it sounded kind of ominous. He did not like where this was going at all.

"Well," Gaius said. "Instead of you spending your day in the dungeon where you were suppose to be," he gave his nephew a disappointing look, as if it was his fault that Gaius had spent all this time negotiating his early release. Although really, it kind of was. Merlin smiled sheepishly. "I managed to talk the guard into another form of punishment that will only take half the time."

"...Ok," Merlin said slowly, eyebrows crinkling together. "What kind of punishment?"

"Well," Gaius kept talking. "It will only take about an hour or two so you'll be home in time for lunch at least."

Home, Merlin thought. His home was in Ealdor but maybe that wasn't exactly true. Maybe he could have another home, here in Camelot. Not in the castle itself. Not a chance in hell would he ever call such a place home. But that little area inside the castle that Gaius called his chambers. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to call that place a home.

It took a minute to long for Merlin to realize that Gaius had gone back to stalling. He narrowed his eyes, bringing his hands up to plant them on his hips. "What exactly is my punishment?"

Gaius gave a little grin, "You should just think of it as an incentive not to go around punching a prince anymore."

"Uncle Gaius!" Merlin exclaimed. Uncle Gaius just grinned at him, looking almost amused by his misfortune.

"Come along, there is a guard downstairs waiting for me to bring you to him." Then he opened the door and walked out.

"Wait, wait!" Merlin said quickly, practically tripping over his own feet as he ran out after him. He barely remembered to slam the door shut behind him. Not that a closed door would stop anyone from entering if they wanted to. A closed door had never stopped Merlin from going in someplace, even if he wasn't wanted. "You never told me what's happening!" He called after him. Gaius was already halfway down the hall, apparently confident that Merlin would follow him and not just run off to escape his additional punishment.

Gaius just chuckled, heading towards the stairs. It never occurred to Merlin to run off anyway. He didn't hesitate to run after his uncle. He slowed down some when he reached the end of the hall, smiling awkwardly at the guard stationed there. Merlin walked in a wide circle around the guard, keeping it so that he was always facing the guard, even walking backwards a few steps. That was how he almost fell down the stairs before catching his balance on the railing.

The guard raised an eyebrow but made no move to follow the strange boy. He stood straight against the wall of the wing that lead to the royal suites. It wasn't always that somebody stood watch over the bedrooms, who would be dumb enough to break into the chambers of a royal? But with the wedding coming up, the king had thought it prudent that a little extra security be necessary.

Over on the steps, Merlin had just barely reached the bottom steps when a thought occurred to him. He froze, hand tensing around the railing that he had his hand on. He felt his heart drop into his stomach like a stone. He felt a cold sweat break out on his skin. He was so still that he almost could have been mistaken as a statue.

Gaius was walking ahead but seemed to realize that Merlin was now no longer following. The physician turned, amused smile dimming into a frown. "Merlin." He called, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

But Merlin didn't hear him. He didn't hear anything actually. His head felt muffled, fuzzy, as if he wasn't really there. He couldn't feel the stone railing under his fingertips. It was like he wasn't in the castle anymore. He couldn't even feel the warmth of the sun on his skin, indicating that it was early morning.

It was morning, the morning.

"Merlin, Merlin!" Gaius yelled. Merlin only came out of his fog when Gaius grabbed him roughly by his shoulder, giving him a little shake. Gaius relaxed only slightly when Merlin's eyes met his. "Are you alright, boy?" He asked, a confused frown firmly plastered on his face.

Merlin swallowed hard, staring up at his uncle blankly. Gaius stared into his nephew's eyes, seeing the strangely blank look on his face. As if he was seeing Gaius but wasn't actually seeing him. As if he was in his own world far away from where he actually was. It was unsettling.

"Merlin?" Gaius asked slowly.

Merlin swallowed again, almost loud enough to be heard. Finally did he say something. "I'm getting married today." He croaked out. His voice cracked when he said married. What little time he had as a free man was slipping away. And what little time he did have would be taken up by his punishment. His voice raise in pitch as he said it again, "I'm getting married today!"

Gaius's eyes soften, his grip on Merlin's shoulder loosening. "Yes, Merlin, you are getting married today."

"To a prat." Merlin said, his voice shaky.

Gaius nodded, not bothering to correct him. Now wasn't the time to correct Merlin that it wasn't proper to call your husband a prat. Especially when your husband is an important fixture in the community. "To a prat." He agreed with him instead. Gaius took Merlin by his arm, leading him in the direction of the courtyard.

"Not just a prat, but to an arse." Merlin moaned, feeling his eye twitch. This wasn't right. This shouldn't be happening to him. He had never done anything in his life to warrant something like this. Well, not anything so bad that it warrant a punishment like being chained to a royal arse his entire life.

"Yes, to an arse." Gaius agreed, now leading the dazed Merlin down the stairs that led out to the courtyard.

The guard that was waiting for them stood at the bottom. Merlin seemed to come back to himself as his eyes landed on him. He jolted to a stop halfway down the stairs, making Gaius stop as well.

"Wait, wait!" Merlin said quickly, turning his head so that his wide eyes met his uncle's. "I'm getting married to a prince! And yet I'm still being punished."

Gaius smirked, "That seems to be how it is, isn't it?" Married to royalty or not, Merlin was a peasant and wouldn't be getting any special attention or be treated any different. At least not by Gaius. Merlin wasn't getting out of this anytime soon.

"So even getting married," Merlin moaned, shoulders slumping. "There's no benefits at all?" Gaius shook his head, making Merlin drop his. "Married to an arse and I get nothing out of it?" He should have known that spending a single night in his room wasn't going to be the extent of his punishment.

"Especially when nobody seems to realize that the peasant boy who tried to punch the prince is the same one that's marrying him." Gaius said dryly.

Merlin felt his eye twitch again and he let his head drop. Fuck his life.