Chapter Text
Arthur was taking the afternoon off.
He tried not to make a habit of wandering outside the courtyard walls, but on occasion he would venture out of the castle. Usually to get away from court life, but more commonly, to get away from his father.
On this particular day, he and his father had had a rather tense conversation about Arthur’s manservant- or lack thereof. It was the subject of great debate between them: Uther could not understand why no servant could last long in the role, and Arthur would always complain violently about their shortcomings after they quit, insisting that he had no need of a servant anyway (which they both knew to be a lie).
As it stood, other servants from around the castle would fill in for the empty role of Arthur’s manservant, while Uther demanded a new manservant be found and Arthur tried to avoid the topic as much as possible. It put them both in a foul mood to talk about.
So with this spat still on his mind, Arthur had called it quits on training and taken his knights into town. As he left the looming castle walls, he felt the boredom of royal life alleviate slightly. It was a sunny afternoon and soon they were all in high spirits.
“Where is the target ?” He drawled to his manservant- who was actually a laundry worker,
“There, sir ?” Came the servant’s reply.
“That’s into the sun.” Arthur said, feeling a spark of irritation returning.
“It’s not that bright.” Said the servant.
“Bit like you then.” Quipped Arthur. The knights laughed- but they laughed at everything he said.
Arthur would never say, but he enjoyed wordplay. He liked listening to back and forth banter amongst the knights, though no one would ever throw a remark his way. Probably, they feared his title if he should take offence. Arthur should probably relish in that, but he didn’t.
The servant said something about moving the target. Arthur felt restless again. Some of the knights laughed something about teaching the servant a lesson for speaking out.
“This will teach him.” Muttered Arthur, half to himself as much as anyone, and he drew out a throwing dagger.
With a burst of excitement, he flung the dagger towards the servant and into the target he carried. That earned him hollers and whoops from the knights and a scandalised look from the servant. The knights patted Arthur on the back and a small crowd of townsfolk was slowly coming together to watch what was happening. His ego was beginning to bloom.
“Don’t stop!” He called to the servant “I told you to keep moving!”
And to prove his point he flung another dagger, scoring a direct bullseye which brought him great satisfaction.
He felt himself getting heady with this version of target practise and, laughing, called again to the servant, “Come on! Run! We want some moving target practice!”
So the servant skittered around like a headless chicken, only his boots sticking out from behind the target. The knights hooted and pointed. Arthur threw his arms wide to their cheers allowing them to goad him into throwing more daggers. Arthur felt a little relief from the boredom as all they hit their mark. The crowd around him laughed and cheered. He felt very pleased with himself.
When his knives were all imbedded in the target he turned to receive his applause from the watching knights. Through the praise and clapping, he heard a voice speak up.
“Hey. Come on, that’s enough.”
Arthur turned and saw a strange man, about his age, with dark hair and a lithe frame. He was dressed in a worn brown jacket and boots and was wearing a blue neckerchief. It was a peasant’s attire. Arthur’s brain short circuited for a moment as he struggled to register that a mere peasant would speak up against him. He wanted to say something about respect and hierarchy but all that he managed was:
“What?”
The stranger replied, “You’ve had your fun, my friend.”
He was softly spoken and had an air of quiet confidence about him. All thoughts of moving targets and headless chickens left Arthur’s head. He had never come across anything like this before.
After a small internal debate, he settled for sauntering up to the stranger, “Do I know you?”
Arthur wasn’t prepared for him to hold out a hand- to the Prince of Camelot for Christ sake- and introduce himself as “Merlin.”
“So I don’t know you.” Arthur continued, feeling as though he had missed the part where this made sense.
When the man replied negative, Arthur continued again, though he didn’t understand why he felt the need to try to get a rise out of this stranger. Perhaps it was because the stranger seemed so calm about this situation.
“Yet you called me friend.”
“That was my mistake.” Said the man- Merlin- and his gaze slipped down over Arthur and a small smirk tugged at his lips. Just for a moment.
Arthur felt his insides go warm all of a sudden. He cleared his throat.
“Yes I think so.”
he said, hoping this odd conversation would be over and that this stranger would be gone from his sight.
But he simply replied, “I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”
Arthur laughed despite himself and shook his head. No one outside of his direct family had ever spoken to him this way. It was insulting and improper- and Arthur couldn’t help but find it…refreshing.
The stranger was retreating so Arthur called to his back, “Or I one who could be so stupid.”
The stranger halted then.
Arthur was delighted to have detained him. He tried for an air of intimidation as he quickly spoke again, “Tell me, Merlin-“ he said, drawing out the syllables “Do you know how to walk on your knees?”
The question hung in the air for a moment and as their looks met, something stirred in Merlin’s eyes that had Arthur’s heart racing.
“Nope.” Said Merlin. He looked into Arthur’s face and held his stare. And it was like he was looking into Arthur’s soul. No one had ever made him feel so seen before and it both excited and unnerved him.
Arthur’s body was taking him closer to Merlin- closer than advisable for a prince and peasant stranger- but he didn’t care.
“Would you like me to help you?” He heard himself saying.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Said Merlin. Which was totally absurd. He was hardly a man of muscle, and the notion that there was anything that he could do that Arthur could not best him at, seemed so ridiculous Arthur was speaking before I realised it, “Why? What are you going to do to me?”
That funny dark look passed over the Merlin’s eyes again and his eyes swept down over him again. Arthur’s heart was beating wilder than ever.
“You have no idea.” Merlin said.
Arthur felt giddy, “Be my guest!” He said, daring Merlin to do something- anything. “Come on! Come on!” He called loud enough for the crowd to hear. Surely this lowly peasant wasn’t stupid enough to openly attack the Prince of Camelot in public.
As it turns out, he was.
The swing of his fist was laughably easy to counter. Had this man never thrown a punch before? Arthur twisted Merlin’s arm behind his back and held him there, trying not to notice how close together they were.
“I’ll have you in jail for that.” He said in Merlin’s ear.
“Who do you think you are? The king?” Merlin bit back.
Which, at least, confirmed Arthur’s growing suspicion that Merlin genuinely didn’t know who he was.
“No, I’m his son.” He replied, gripping Merlin’s arm more tightly, “Arthur.”
For once Merlin fell silent.
Arthur kicked him, not ungently, in the back of the knee, causing him to fall to the ground. Camelot guards were already rushing forward to take Merlin to the dungeons. Arthur glanced back down him where he knelt, not struggling, by his feet. His eyelashes were long and dark as he met Arthur’s gaze. Something about the sight of him there made Arthur’s stomach feel odd, but he pushed it down and ordered the guards to take Merlin away to be locked up.
Merlin went without a fuss, with his head down.
Arthur felt sort of… lost. He turned back to the waiting knights. Some of them half heartedly suggested more dagger throwing, but it didn’t seem quite so thrilling anymore. In fact, Arthur felt quite sullen, and he told the knights to head back to the castle. He’d had enough of the town for one day.
~~~~
Later that evening, his newest manservant- who was actually one of the kitchen staff- finally left the room and shut the door behind him with a thud. He was alone with this thoughts.
With nothing better to do, Arthur got into bed and drew the curtains. His mind wandered over the events of the day. There was a very boring meeting with farming men from the outlying villages, of course his small argument with his father, resulting in his trip down to wander the town.
That of course is where he’d met that peasant- Merlin was his name wasn’t it? He stared at the velvety fabric of the bed curtain until his vision started the blur.
There had been something about Merlin that had gotten right under his skin from the very first moment he saw him.
He remembered the way Merlin had spoken to him, with no fear and with no doubt. It was only after he’d revealed himself as the Prince that Merlin had fallen silent. Arthur resented that more than he cared to admit.
He could feel irritation creeping up his spine. The way everybody tiptoed around him all the time made him restless. What did it matter if he was Prince of Camelot if no one would talk to him?
He breathed deeply.
But Merlin had talked to him. For that brief time, he’d seen Arthur as a person, not just a Prince.
His thoughts wandered again, but soon came back to Merlin. He thought of how he had carried himself and that odd confidence about him.
His minds eye helpfully provided him with the image of Merlin sat at his feet, looking up at him as the guards came to take him away. And the way the sun had shone in his hair and his long, dark eyelashes.
Arthur felt warm suddenly.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew what it felt like to find someone attractive. And he knew he’d seen attractive men before. But he also knew that he was the Prince. And that his duty to his kingdom would always come first…
But the kingdom didn’t have to know if he thought about Merlin...
They didn’t have to know if Arthur had felt the thrill of a fight by just talking to Merlin.
And they certainly didn’t have to know that the dark way Merlin had looked him up and down made his belly flip-flop inside, and his stomach clench into knots.
A heavy heat slowly began to pool in his lap. His eyes were wide open in the dark but he couldn’t focus on what they were seeing. Instead, he saw Merlin kneeling before him again.
The tightness in his lap was becoming unbearable.
Arthur slipped a hand down under the covers, pushed his shirt up over his stomach, and took himself slowly into his hand. He breathed heavily through his nose. The sensation brought relief from the pressure as he began to move his hand.
The image of Merlin swam across his mind again and a fresh wave of arousal hit him.
His hips began to move in time with his hand, thrusting against himself, through the friction burnt hot. His heart thudded as his mind conjured up images of Merlin’s hand around his, and his lips at Arthur’s neck and the sound of soft moans by his ear.
Arthur gave in to himself and spat into his hand before taking up a much quicker rhythm of thrusting. He made a strained noise in the back of his throat and buried his face in his pillow, biting his lip to keep from crying out.
He turned his body over, grinding down onto his bed, seeking release. He focused on the feeling of his hand against him and the soft slick with each thrust. The noise of it, rhythmic and wet, spurred him on and he thrust faster and harder against the mattress and his hand.
His breathing became laboured and he felt like he was climbing the edge of ecstasy. He suddenly imagined Merlin beneath him and staring into Arthur’s eyes like he had today in the town. He shuddered as Merlin’s gaze pierced him and he climaxed suddenly, moaning deep into his pillow as waves of pleasure took hold of him. He pushed himself through the sensations, panting open-mouthed and feeling hot all over.
Little waves of bliss rolled over him as he slowly stroked himself down from the high. His legs felt heavy and the bed sheet was damp with sweat.
Arthur lay still for a moment trying to breathe normally.
He soon regretted not finding a cloth before starting and his bed was sticky to touch. He would have to have his servant (whoever it would be tomorrow) change the bedding.
For now, he moved over to the other side of the bed. The sheets there were cool and he sighed in content when they brushed his warm skin.
He wondered if he ought to feel ashamed of himself, for thinking about this random peasant like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t the first time someone he’d met had been the subject of his nighttime fantasies, and he felt at ease. He would probably never see Merlin again.
He stretched like a cat, still feeling a pleasant buzz like a warm summer day, and fell into a deep and untroubled sleep.