In honor of March 21st – Fragrance Day (a day late, I'm afraid)

Arthur stood in front of the mirror with his armor laid out neatly on the table behind him. He can see the metal glinting whenever the sunshine blinks through the clouds and his open window. Despite noticing these things, the only thought that keeps circulating in his mind is this:

Merlin is late.

To be fair, it was a common thought of his, since the manservant was always missing for this reason or that. Arthur was perfectly aware that he never got told the truth. Gaius constantly told him that Merlin was off at the tavern, but the barkeep had never seen Merlin in there outside of when he would come with the prince. The thought occurred to Arthur that perhaps there was something else that Merlin wanted to keep hidden.

Was he was popular with the ladies in the lower city? He mulled it over as he ended up sniffing himself and trying to determine his own attractiveness. Plenty of women had flirted with him and danced with him at festivals and tournaments, but rarely did those fleeting attractions stick for long. His own father hadn't even tried pairing him off for the benefit of the kingdom – yet, at least. Perhaps he smelled bad?

The smell wouldn't be the only off-putting thing, though, according to Merlin. Oft did the words leave the young man's mouth that the prince was "arrogant" and "selfish." Arthur hadn't noticed these traits about himself until that moment when he stood vulnerable in front of a mirror, alone and waiting for the only person who didn't beat around their words with him. He stood there waiting for the most important person in his life.

All of that in his head, however, he did smell quite pungent. He'd bathed, but the summers left the air sticky. Sleeping without a shred of clothing on didn't do much in the ways of cooling, and certainly not in the ways of smelling either. He could use a bath…

…but he'd need Merlin for that too. It would be him who would fetch the water.

Unwilling to wait for the manservant, Arthur decided to head to the lower city in search of sweet-smelling herbs or something more fragrant than his sweat.

Arthur charged through his door with a mission in mind, and he felt great about it until he nearly plowed over Gwen. Her cheeks blushed and she curtsied the second she regained her footing. "Pardon me, my lord. I should have looked around the corner."

"Nonsense, Guinevere, you are as much at home in the castle as I am," Arthur proclaimed in a somewhat short temper. His irritation wasn't with her and it must have shown because she smiled – and then questioned him.

"Where are you off to in such a rush? Has Merlin slept in again?"

A likely story for most anyone else but never with Merlin. More mysterious than magic and more unpredictable than a child with a broadsword, Merlin could be anywhere in Camelot – except his bed and the tavern. Arthur shrugged in reply and then shook his head. "Merlin didn't show up this morning, but that's not where I'm going right now. I'm going to the market to look for something."

Smiling at him again, Gwen bowed her head. "Well, I wish you luck, my lord. I hope you find what you are looking for – and Merlin, too."

Before she's even taken a step, Arthur is off again, correcting the handmaiden as he goes. "You can call me 'Arthur,' Guinevere. We're friends!"

The emphasis he puts on the word 'friends' echoes through the hallway.

Each stall vendor greeted him joyously and offered free goods. Some items he accepted, only because they were so abundant, but everything else he offered money for so that he was not treated specially in comparison to his people. By the time he found the stall he'd needed, the one that brought him out of the castle in such a rush, the vendor was closing up and packing away her products.

"Good morning," he began, "Can I ask you why you're closing your stall so early?"

The lady offered a half-hearted grin and then tapped at her chest. "When the air gets too thick, it makes breathing mighty difficult for a woman of my age. I can feel the heat beating on my shoulders already so I must be packing my wares so that I can get home before I overheat. I reckon there'll be more moving to their homes here soon. The summer heat is terrible this year."

Arthur bobbed his head and listened intently as she explained herself. She didn't need to give him any explanation, but she did so willingly anyway. Everything she said did make sense, as well, as he was already familiar with some of the side effects of the heat in the way his men trained, in the way everyone's mood shifted, and in the activity of the city. Still, he wished to make a purchase.

"If I may, I would like to make you an offer," he said confidently, a plan already in his mind.

"Sure," she said gently, paying full attention to him as he shifted to be closer to her.

As he spoke, he gestured to her boxes. "I wish to make a purchase from you today, but I would like to help you carry your wares back to your cottage. I'll pay you full price for the item when we get there. Could you find that to be a fair arrangement?"

"More than fair, sire," she whispered in a surprise. "It is far more than I would expect from any prince from any kingdom."

Arthur grinned and started reaching for her boxes that were already well packed. "Then, please, lead the way!"

It took a great deal of time and a good number of breaks for the stall vendor to rest. Arthur learned that her name was Magdalene and that she'd lived in Camelot her entire life. All of her fragrances are made from local herbs, flowers, and grasses. She often uses oils as well but prefers to utilize rare ingredients from visitors to make her perfumes stand out.

He also learned that she doesn't generally make any scents for men. "I've never had a man buy for himself from my stall. It was always strange to me that men did not worry that they stink," she had cooed with a certain level of interest that made Arthur feel that he didn't need to panic or feel let down. Magdalene did not disappoint, either, because she said that she would need to go to her sewing desk to get a bottle she had tucked away that may be of some interest to him.

She walked away with her long, frayed hair fluttering behind her. It wasn't quite as gray as Gaius' hair, but it would be there in due time. Though, she hobbled and visibly ached from moving around. Arthur had to wonder how many more years she could take care of herself before she would resign herself to homelessness and misfortune. If he could do anything to help her, he knew he would try. Nobody deserved to feel, or be, as helpless as Magdalene seemed to be.

While he waited for the elderly woman to return, he saw that she had dishes piled on her counter. Although they were cleared of food, he could see that they needed rinsing. There was a pot of water sitting in the fireplace overtop some smoldering coals, which Arthur checked for warmth. He could wash the dishes for her if only he knew whether or not he should use that water.

"This bottle," Magdalene's voice carried through the short hallway as she started back. He turned to greet her with his full attention to see her carrying a small glass bottle that is tinted blue. "When I was adding petals to the water, I accidentally grabbed the wrong poultice bag. There were moss and patchouli in the bag I put into the mixture. It came out smelling nice enough, but it was too subtle and got passed up for more intense perfumes."

Magdalene put a splash of the liquid on the back of her hand and rubbed it into her skin just a little. There was still glistening moisture to her hand as she got closer with her hand lifted to his nose. Arthur could smell it before she approached, for as subtle as the fragrance was, and he found it to be pleasant.

"I would love it, should you be willing to sell it, Magdalene," Arthur proclaimed excitedly, his eyes hungrily shifting from her to the bottle. Thankfully, she did not hesitate to give it to him.

"It is yours," she said quickly, only speaking again to clarify one detail for him. "But I insist that you do not pay. I haven't been able to get it off of my hands for quite some time now. It is gift enough for it to be in grateful hands.

Arthur felt obligated to give her something, and he did it a sneakily as possible. He offered to wash her dishes, which she accepted because her arms and legs were hurting terribly. Then she let him sweep up the floors before putting her boxes in her sewing room for storage. Magdalene was going to need a couple of days to recover, she'd thought, and needed them out of the way.

It was this chore that presented him with the opportunity to hide money for her. He stuffed his entire coin bag into one of the boxes for her to find when she went back through her wares. It should be more than enough to cover the tax collections for several months in a row without worry. If he could do nothing else for her yet, Arthur wanted to do at least this thing to help.

Traveling back to the castle was less strenuous, and Arthur kept his purchase wrapped neatly into the satchel he'd taken with him. The bottle was nestled perfectly between food items and clothing ones, protecting it from bumps and cracking. He was nearly to the castle when he caught sight of Merlin running up the steps and through the entrance. Arthur just assumed that Merlin would be waiting for him in his chambers and made no effort to rush after him.

He was wrong, though. Just as Arthur rounded the corner to the last hallway that would take him straight to him to his bedroom, he collides with someone again walking by. This time – he's the one who gets knocked over and he loses his bag. Worse than that still, however, he hears the glass shattering in the bag.

"What are you doing there?" Merlin asked in his usual tone – oblivious and innocent. Arthur never could decide if he hated or loved how positive the man was, but he was thankful to at least know where the hell he was at that exact moment.

Growling as he swipes his bag from the ground only to see a puddle left behind. Merlin didn't hesitate to drop Arthur's laundry on top of it, either. "That should soak most of it up, I figure. Are you okay?"

"Yes," he managed to say through his heavy disappointment and frustration. He stood himself back up and met Merlin's cautious gaze. As they were standing there, the manservant started sniffing the air. It made Arthur fake an aggravated sigh to see if he could pick up on the smell too, but he failed. "Why is your face like that?"

That was definitely going to elicit a response.

Merlin sniffed the air more dramatically at that point. "What's that smell?"

Arthur then took a deep breath to see if he could smell it since he didn't have to hide his efforts, but still couldn't pick it up. It was far too faint. "What smell?"

"it smells," Merlin paused, breathing it in again, "not bad."

Defeat washed over Arthur. At least it smelled 'not bad,' he supposed in those moments. It could've been worse. Finally, he ran his hand through his hair and moved their conversation in a new direction. "I need hot water for a bath. So, if you could actually work, I'd like to do that before I go for lunch with my father."

"Yes, sire," he hummed, quickly grabbing the dirty laundry he'd had in his arms and ran off again. Arthur listened to his feet as they slammed against the floor, softened only by the sound of his own boots as they thudded on the stone. Once he was back inside of his chambers, there was only one thought that rattled around in his head:

How do I get my hands on another bottle?

The prospect of smelling "not bad" was now irresistible to Arthur Pendragon.