Chapter Text
VI: The Prince's Favor (Part 1)
That day, training began as it had every other:
"Merlin…! That is not how you are supposed to hold a crossbow!"
Tiredly, Merlin rolled his eyes, shifting his finger to the correct position on the trigger, "Is that better, Your Prattiness?"
Arthur laid a frustrated glower on his manservant. Merlin was a sword master's dream: quick-witted, clever, possessed of lightning fast reflexes, and horribly stubborn. The last of which often resulted in nightmarish sparring sessions with both boys at loggerheads with each other:
"Arthur, why does it matter how I hold a weapon? What matters is that I have one!"
"Merlin…! That's not the point…!"
…Ultimately, Arthur chose the thrill of adrenaline and the elation of a good fight over how best to handle a broadsword (which was so ill-fitting for Merlin's physique that it made one appearance and never appeared again.)
Beneath Arthur's glower, Merlin shrugged helplessly. Daggers he knew, but the crossbow was far too…springy. Arthur's broad shoulders and muscled back allowed him to handle it with ease, but despite the conditioning Merlin's body had undergone in the past three months, it seemed likely the crossbow would be discarded just as quickly as the broadsword had.
(That it killed far too cleanly and quickly had absolutely nothing to do with it. Really.)
Sighing, Arthur pressed down gently on Merlin's hand…and Merlin's finger de-pressed the trigger, causing Arthur to yelp softly as he jumped out of the way of the crossbow bolt that embedded itself in the ground with a solid thwack.
Wide-eyed, Merlin stared at him for a full tenth of a second, before breaking down into helpless laughter.
"It isn't funny, Merlin!" came the indignant exclamation. "You could have shot my foot!"
"I am so sorry, Your Highness," more helpless laughter filled their clearing, "but you deserved it."
Scowling, Arthur demanded, "How did I deserve it? I haven't done anything, yet!"
Smirking, Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Arthur brought his hand up sharply and cut him off, "Don't answer that, Merlin."
Grinning wearily, if warmly, Merlin gladly relinquished the crossbow to Arthur's sure hold without a smart come back.
Trust Arthur to notice.
Frowning thoughtfully, the Crown Prince accepted the weapon and carefully set it aside. "Merlin…?" and the question was oddly tentative, "Something has upset you again, hasn't it?"
Startled, Merlin flushed, averting his eyes. Arthur, although it went unnoticed, tensed slightly. Both boys clearly recalled the events that had unfolded only a few weeks prior:
Merlin had tried to make himself scarce in the early morning hours that followed his return from the Lake of Avalon, and he had succeeded for the most part, avoiding the majority of the castle's inhabitants and holing himself up in Arthur's chambers. Gaius had, of course, offered to brew him a sedative and inform Arthur he was indisposed for the day, but Merlin had only given the elderly physician a weak smile and quietly slipped out of the room.
Arthur had been up even earlier than his manservant had, disturbed by the girl-turned-Bastet he had faced the previous evening and the fact that Merlin had essentially disappeared directly afterwards (because, of course, he had seen him in the courtyard that night). That he had been missing during the dark, cold hours of hunting that followed had not helped matters any, either.
Undeniably, both boys felt a flicker of surprise when, upon Arthur opening his chamber door that morning, they found themselves face to face with one another.
Arthur, true to his upbringing, recovered first, "Ah, Merlin. There you are. I've been looking for you-"
Merlin hitched his shoulders up, rushing to complete Arthur's sentence before the prince finished it himself, "Yes. Right. Umm…you want me to polish your armor and…wash your clothes and-"
Without a word, Arthur slipped into place beside Merlin, touching, then capturing, the hand that had continued to scrub furiously at his muddied boots. When Merlin's "clean your room" ended on a barely audible choke and Arthur caught sight of the hard swallow that accompanied it, he swallowed himself, squared his shoulders, and plunged ahead, "Something's been upsetting you, hasn't it?" stated with all the confidence he could muster.
Startled, Merlin finally paused in his scrubbing, staring down at the hand that had clenched (but not too tightly) around his own. He could barely talk now, "Maybe," whispered.
Arthur sighed, dropping his shoulders and withdrawing his hand, "Was it because I threw water over you?"
(He sincerely doubted it, but then, Merlin had never been entirely logical.)
Merlin's hand jerked on the boot he had continued to scrub, slightly thrown by the casual question. Despite himself, he gave a small snort, shaking his head, and looked up at Arthur with the faint beginnings of a grin, "It wasn't very nice."
Encouraged by that small glimpse of the Merlin he knew (and trying to ignore the brief flash of guilt that accompanied it), Arthur turned away and acknowledged, "It was a bit unfair."
He couldn't resist adding, of course, especially at the miniscule smile that touched Merlin's lips, "Like...when you called me…fat?" suggested with all the idle innocence that he knew Merlin would see through.
Less startled by the playful tone than he perhaps should have been, Merlin gave up all pretense of scrubbing and turned to Arthur, asking rather matter-of-factly, "Why was that unfair?"
Arthur did not see through the banter quite as easily as his counterpart did: turning sharply he retorted hotly, "Because I am not fa-"
The tiny sparkle in Merlin's eye and the small quirk at the corner of his mouth gave the younger boy away, and Arthur quickly bit off his retort, slightly embarrassed by how sensitive he was about his weight.
Unable to help himself, and relieved to see the teasing back, the prince reached out and grabbed his manservant in a gentle headlock.
With a cry as the older boy started knuckling his head none-too-lightly, Merlin struggled and squirmed, caught between yelping and laughter, "Ow, ow, ow ! Arthur…!"
He was suddenly released to sit upright, and held his somewhat dizzy head, panting slightly from his laughter and unable to ignore the wide grin now adorning his face, "Wha…wha…what…?"
Arthur's finger lightly touched his cheek, tracing the smile that curved there, "That's better."
A hand touched Arthur's arm, drawing him out of the memory. Merlin was there, again, smiling softly at him, "Nothing's upsetting me…as such. I'm just tired."
Arthur perked up, smirking slightly, "Too tired to duel? My, Merlin, what have you been getting into?"
Hearing the underlying suggestiveness of the tone, Merlin flushed deeply and retorted crankily, "Oh, shut-"
A throat cleared pointedly behind them.
Going by the sudden tension that sang through Merlin's body, and the fact that he immediately retracted his hand, it wasn't Leon who wanted their attention.
Turning to face the man who had interrupted their verbal sparring match, Merlin and Arthur found Sir Kay waiting expectantly in front of them.
Awkwardly, Arthur cleared his own throat and smiled tightly at his knight, unused to anyone but Leon (and perhaps Gaius) seeing him at his most unguarded, "Kay," he acknowledged.
Merlin quietly dropped back a respectful pace behind Arthur, standing attentively at his left shoulder as all proper manservants should. He knew Arthur hated it, but with this particular knight—and Sir Boris—Merlin often chose caution over error.
Frowning at Merlin for reverting to docility, Arthur returned his attention to the man who had, at one point, been one of his oldest friends, "What did you need, Kay?"
Sir Kay shook his head, gauntlet clutched in one hand, and bowed to Arthur, "Nothing from you, Sire, my apologies."
Merlin, who had intended to listen in on the conversation without making it obvious, now tensed again and straightened, warily eyeing the older knight. What could this man possibly want from him? Sir Kay had made it vastly apparent that he did not approve of Arthur's decision to train Merlin, so why did he seek him now?
Arthur, whose own thoughts mirrored Merlin's, also tensed, "What do you want from Merlin, Kay?" he demanded.
Sir Kay coolly surveyed them both, although his look quickly turned deferential when it turned to Arthur. Arthur, of course, wasn't fooled. He knew Kay had something in mind that he would not like, and he knew Kay knew that, as well.
Nothing that involved Merlin could ever be simple, could it?
Sir Kay took in a deep breath, "Forgive me, Sire, but if you would step aside…"
In the end, Merlin catalyzed the situation. Gently pressing a hand to Arthur's side (who reluctantly stepped away), the warlock asked cautiously, "Sir Kay…? Is there something I can help you with?"
Dust, dirt, and grass flew up into the air as Sir Kay threw his gauntlet down to the earth between them. When he looked up at Merlin, the knight's face was still and pale, "I challenge you."
End The Prince's Favor (Part 1)