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"You are such a git," Merlin said, for want of anything more constructive to say. Well it was the truth, so Merlin didn't see why he should hold his tongue. Prince or no, Arthur was a right royal pain in the arse, and no two ways about it. "A stupid, annoying—"
Arthur turned and glared at him. Although it wasn't so much a glare, Merlin thought, as a stupid, annoying, ridiculous pout. Arthur had a talent for looking surprisingly girly at times and – Ah! He wouldn't like being told that.
"Don't pull that face," Merlin said, crossing his arms and shifting on the hard ground. "It makes you look like a girl. A five-year-old girl," he continued, warming to his theme, "who's had her pigtails pulled and—"
"That's enough," Arthur snapped, mirroring Merlin's movement and folding his arms. His jaw looked very tight and a muscle twitched in his cheek. "I sometimes think you forget who I am, Merlin. Hold your tongue or I'll have you thrown in the dungeons when we return to the castle."
Merlin laughed, rather scornfully. "Go ahead," he said. "Clap me in irons. Oh, sorry, wait," he said, striking his forehead with one hand. "You can't. Because, if I remember right, we're trapped in a cave."
"It's not my fault," Arthur said, rather defensively. "Stop going on about it. They'll have noticed we're missing and be looking for us. My father—"
"Great," Merlin muttered. "We have to rely on Uther. We're doomed."
"What was that?" Arthur snapped. "Was that treason?"
Merlin counted to ten in his head. "Sorry," he said, realising that perhaps he'd gone a bit too far. "Sorry." Arthur was an idiot – but it wasn't his fault he was an idiot. It was just the way he was and there was nothing that could be done about it.
"So you should be," Arthur said reprovingly, with that infuriating air that he often had. It was that air of 'I'm better than you' that had so annoyed Merlin the first time he'd met him. Of course, he'd do anything for the stupid prat, but that didn't stop him from being an infuriating bastard half – or in fact, almost all – the time.
This wasn't the most dangerous of all the situations they'd been in – not by a long shot – but it was definitely the most stupid. They'd been hunting and when Arthur had swung himself off his horse and dashed into a cave the prey had possibly escaped into, Merlin had followed – yelling at him to stop, because it didn't look safe for pity's sake – and he'd (of course) been proved right when the loose rock and soil at the cave's entrance had fallen with a deafening crash.
It wasn't totally dark in the cave – a faint light shone from God knows where – but it was gloomy and cold, and the whole place was more soil than rock. If they tried to dig themselves out, like as not the cave would collapse in on itself and bury them alive.
After a long time, while Merlin suppressed a large number of complaints, Arthur spoke. "The horses will return to the castle," he said. "They should have got back by now. I'm sure the knights will come and dig us out before nightfall."
He didn't sound sure, Merlin thought. He sounded dubious. They'd already been there for several hours, after all, and Merlin suspected that there would be no outward sign that they were trapped in there. They could yell, of course – and they had – but after a particularly hoarse shout from Merlin Arthur had cracked, telling Merlin that if he made another noise he'd stab him.
"Merlin? Did you hear me?" Arthur repeated, sounding tetchy. His face was screwed up and cross.
"Yes, Arthur," Merlin said. "I heard you." He attempted to pull his arms closer around himself, trying not to shiver. It was nearly nightfall already, he expected. He clenched his jaw. Soon, he thought, he'd have to do some magic, if only to stop them from getting frozen to death. There was no firewood in the cave, even though he had a bag of bits and pieces that no doubt contained something that could get one alight. He hoped he wouldn't have to try and blast his way out of the cave. There was too much of a risk to Arthur's life if he did that. He'd gone through quite enough to keep the prat alive – it would be particularly ironic if the prince died because Merlin had mucked up, rather than because of his own idiocy.
"What are you thinking about, Merlin?" Arthur asked, with a short laugh. "You're pulling the most ridiculous face."
"Oh, er, nothing," Merlin said, trying not to blush. If he was blushing, Arthur probably couldn't see it anyway, the way the light was fading. Besides, his blood had quite enough to do, circulating to make sure his extremities didn't drop off, without wasting time rushing to his cheeks.
"You're blushing!" Arthur said. He was smiling now – a particularly infuriating smile. He leaned forward, unfolding his crossed arms and wrapping them loosely around his legs. "You're actually blushing. Go on, spill."
"Shut up," Merlin said, leaning back against the wall behind him. "I'm not."
"And you're shaking, too!" Arthur laughed.
"I'm cold," Merlin protested. Arthur was more warmly dressed than he, wearing basic leather body armour on top of fine linen and rich wool.
"Oh," Arthur said, pulling a face. He looked down at himself. "I'm not exactly warm myself," he continued. "If you were any sort of servant, you'd have worked out how to light a fire by now."
"Oh, so it's my fault there's no firewood in here?" Merlin said.
"Yes, yes it is," Arthur agreed, smiling slightly.
Merlin rolled his eyes and felt his dilemma twist within him. Should he light a magical fire? He didn't want Arthur to know about his magic. Not because he thought Arthur would harm him, but it was too much of a burden to place upon his master. Merlin would have to leave Camelot, no doubt about it – and what would happen to the prophecy then?
Merlin opened up his bag, fiddling about with the contents. Was there anything in there that he could use as 'pretend' firewood? Arthur wasn't bright, and could be fooled. Although it would be difficult, he thought, to stop him from seeing the magic being worked. There wasn't exactly much space in the cave, and Merlin had to say the words out loud – at least, he thought he did.
"Maybe I could use this," he said, scattering a handful of herbs on the ground.
"That'll hardly burn for long," Arthur said, leaning back and raising an eyebrow. He was watching Merlin's movements far too closely for comfort.
Merlin unwound the scarf from his neck and laid it amongst the herbs. He concentrated, muttering a few magic words and attempting to cover it with a cough.
"What was that?" Arthur said. His expression told Merlin that Arthur thought he was an idiot.
"Oh, do shut up, Arthur," Merlin said, making a decision. In the shocked moment of silence that followed, Merlin reached over pressed a hand over Arthur's eyes, muttering the magic words as quietly as he could and setting the meagre pile of material alight with magic. It would burn for as long as he desired.
Merlin shot backwards, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Sorry," he said, "I slipped. Are you okay?"
Arthur was staring at him, his mouth slack. Then, after a long and uncomfortable silence, he spoke. "You must think I'm some kind of idiot," he said.
"Pardon?" Merlin said, wondering how he could get out of this one. Arthur hadn't seen the magic, after all, and he'd shown himself to be spectacularly unobservant in the past.
"That was magic," Arthur said.
"Magic?" Merlin repeated, his voice rising to a kind of ridiculous squeak. "Are you feeling well, Arthur? I just lit a fire."
"How did you light the fire," Arthur said, his voice level.
Merlin thought about that. How did you go about lighting a fire, anyway? "With, er, some sparks," he said. "I just rubbed some stones together, and—" He waved his hands.
"Show me," Arthur said.
Merlin had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that Arthur was enjoying this.
"Go on, show me how you did it," Arthur repeated. "Show me how you lit the fire with one hand, whilst simultaneously falling on me and speaking magic words – no, sorry, what were those?"
"They were a poem," Merlin said. "In – in – in Latin," he said, having a sudden brainwave. "I've been learning."
Arthur snorted and then nodded at Merlin, a look of smug impatience on his face. "You still haven't shown me," he said.
"It's a secret," Merlin said wildly.
Arthur shut his eyes. "I'm not quite as stupid as you think I am, Merlin," he said. "You did magic. You did magic."
"No, I didn't," Merlin protested weakly.
Arthur opened one eye a fraction. "Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't," Merlin said again.
He suddenly found himself with a face full of Arthur. Arthur almost flung himself on Merlin, pushing him hard against the wall, one hand tight against the clothing at Merlin's neck. He'd almost set himself on fire, Merlin thought as he tried not to flinch. How stupid could one prince get?
"You. Did. Magic," Arthur said, punctuating each word with a shake that made Merlin's neck hurt.
Merlin bit his lip, not sure what line to take. It seemed that the old standard 'no, I didn't' wasn't going to work any more, and it was getting a bit too much like a farce. "I can explain," he said, hoping that Arthur wouldn't ask him too. What explanation could he give?
"Go on then," Arthur said. He was breathing heavily, his hand tightening further on Merlin's clothes. His other hand was wrapped around Merlin's shoulder, gripping so tight that Merlin expected he'd have bruises. He'd have to show them to Arthur later, he thought in a rather dazed way, and guilt-trip Arthur into giving him some time off.
"I can do magic," Merlin said, not entirely thinking it through.
Arthur's grip around him loosened and he sat back on his haunches. He swayed slightly and Merlin grabbed him, worried that he'd sit back on the fire and set his arse on fire.
Arthur was opening and closing his lips as if he wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Then he laughed, although there wasn't much humour in it, and swung himself round so he was sitting next to Merlin.
They both stared at the fire for a while.
"You can do magic," Arthur said finally.
"Yes," Merlin agreed, not seeing the point in denying it now.
"That thing with the snakes—"
"Yes," Merlin said.
"And that time with the wind—"
"Yes," Merlin said.
"And when I was bitten by that thing you—"
"Yes," Merlin said.
"And this fire—"
"Yes," Merlin said.
"Bloody hell, Merlin," Arthur said. He sounded winded and small, and completely unlike himself. Then he made an obvious attempt to pull himself together. "As your prince, I order you to get us out of this cave. I'll decide what to do about this later."
"I don't think I can," Merlin admitted.
"Are you disobeying a direct order?"
"Yes," Merlin said. "Because I think if I try to shift the soil at the entrance, we'll be buried alive. Don't be a prat, Arthur."
"Are you lecturing me again?" Arthur said.
Merlin looked at him. Arthur was staring hard at the fire, but he didn't sound too annoyed. "Yes," Merlin said, trying not to grin. "I am. You prat."
Arthur turned his head to look at him. "Excuse me?"
"I said, you're a prat," Merlin repeated, unable to stop himself from grinning.
"And you know who I am?" Arthur said. His lips were twitching as if he wasn't sure whether to laugh or yell.
"Quite sure," Merlin said. "You're a royal prat," he continued, "which somehow makes it—"
"Take that back," Arthur interrupted. He leaned in closer. "Or you'll regret it."
"No," Merlin said, grinning. "You're a prat, Arthur, and—"
"Did you save my life?" Arthur asked. His face was very close and he didn't look entirely grateful, Merlin thought.
"Who would I insult if I hadn't?" Merlin asked. "Besides," he added, before he really thought about it, "the dragon said—" He stopped at the look on Arthur's face. "I mean, the prophecy—"
"You are infuriating," Arthur said, almost shouting. He leaned over a bit too far and Merlin leaned back and they fell in a tangle, Merlin struggling and Arthur struggling and...
It was probably a mistake, Merlin thought, the sound of his heart beating loud in his ears. They'd both turned their heads to avoid clashing faces as they'd fallen, but somehow they'd done it the wrong way. It wasn't a kiss so much as a collision, noses bashing each other and Arthur's teeth hard against Merlin's mouth. When he licked his lips he could taste blood – and that was a mistake, he thought, completely distracted, because Arthur was too close and it turned into something rather more open-mouthed and intimate.
He hadn't intended to kiss Arthur – not that he would have objected, necessarily, if the idea had ever occurred to him – but now he was, it seemed rude to stop. Particularly because, while he wasn't kissing back, as such, Arthur wasn't moving away. His body was a warm, heavy weight on top of Merlin's, and although Merlin couldn't quite breathe, he couldn't find a reason to push Arthur off.
"I'm warning you," Arthur suddenly said, his face towering large above Merlin's own.
"Y–yes?" Merlin managed.
"If we're here for more than a couple of days, I'm eating your leg."
Merlin wondered if he'd heard right. "What?"
"You heard. You're my loyal servant. You wouldn't mind sacrificing a limb to keep your prince well-nourished, would you?"
Arthur was grinning now, and Merlin didn't like it. "I don't see why it has to be my leg," he replied. Then he had an idea. Arthur was bigger and stronger, but Merlin would have the element of surprise. He shifted suddenly, rolling over and suddenly Arthur was beneath him, his hands pinned either side of his head.
Merlin grinned down at him. "I'm sure your leg would be just as tasty."
"I beg your pardon?" Arthur mock-admonished. "Did you really just suggest that you would eat my leg? Is this loyalty? Is this—"
Arthur suddenly attempted to shift Merlin off, but Merlin was ready for him. Mainly because if they rolled any further then they'd both end up roasted on the flames, with no-one to benefit from their flesh. Arthur tugged one way and Merlin the other, and they were laughing and . . . and it suddenly seemed a good idea, in Merlin's mind, to kiss Arthur to win the battle.
It sort of worked. Arthur went limp beneath him and stopped struggling. Merlin wasn't entirely sure what he was doing and he tried not to panic. Was he supposed to – to move his lips? He'd never kissed a girl before, let alone a boy. He'd always been too shy to make a move on anyone, and until he'd become Arthur's servant no girl would even look at him. Maybe if he kept it soft and slow, Arthur wouldn't notice that he had no idea what he was doing.
When Merlin felt a hand around his neck he tried to pull away, convinced that Arthur was about to strangle him. But to his surprise, he just felt long fingers curl around the back of his neck and tangle through his hair. He was almost being pulled closer, he thought with surprise. It was hard to concentrate on anything other than how stupid he felt right now. Arthur must think he was mad. What the hell was he doing? Except then there was the hand in his hair, and Arthur's chest was rising and falling rapidly under his own.
"You haven't done this before, have you?" Arthur said against Merlin's lips.
Merlin nearly died. But then he realised he'd been tricked – sort of – as Arthur once more rolled and pinned Merlin beneath him. He was almost too embarrassed to look up at Arthur – but when he did, Arthur's expression was awkward and his cheeks were flaming. Then he saw Merlin looking and he made an obvious attempt to look knowing.
"Have you?" Merlin asked.
Arthur's eyes shifted. "Of course I have," he said. "I'm not a child."
Merlin was quite convinced that Arthur was lying – or, at the very least, exaggerating. "Really."
"Are you questioning me?" Arthur said, his voice higher than usual.
"No, no, of course not," Merlin said, backing down. If he was going to torture Arthur, there were easier ways to do it. "Go on then, show me your expertise."
Arthur looked stunned for a moment. He licked his lips. "What?"
"No?"
Arthur's eyes were very wide. His usual arrogance was almost completely absent, Merlin thought. It was odd to see him like that. Usually he only lacked confidence when he was asleep – for the obvious reason that he was asleep. Now he had a strange vulnerability about him. Merlin liked it. He liked it when Arthur was being less of a prat than usual.
Merlin, feeling very odd for doing so, craned his neck upwards and kissed Arthur – very light and very gentle – full on the lips. When he let his head fall to the ground once more, Arthur followed him down, kissing him back. Merlin tried to relax and let Arthur take the lead. Arthur was clumsy and not entirely gentle, and he leaned hard on Merlin as if he didn't quite understand that Merlin was a person rather than the floor, but it was nothing like Merlin had ever experienced before.
Merlin had made some perfunctory investigations of himself, late at night alone in bed, of course – he was a young man, and he suspected he wasn't the only one who'd ever done it – but it had felt nothing like this. He was breathing so fast he felt odd and light-headed, and he was so hard and aching between his legs that it almost hurt.
"Oh God," Arthur murmured against his lips, and then pulled away, very much not looking Merlin in the eye. His hands fiddled with the hem of Merlin's shirt and when they slid under it Merlin shivered – half because of the chill of Arthur's hands, and half because of what was happening. Although he wasn't entirely sure what was happening, he had to confess. He knew the mechanics of copulation, but that was with a man and a woman. He had his suspicions how two men could go about it – he'd heard rumours, and it wasn't uncommon for it to happen, provided it was done prior to marriage and in privacy, but—
"Can I?"
Merlin gaped at Arthur. Arthur looked back at him, evidently attempting to look calm and collected but not managing it very well.
"Can you do what?" Merlin asked. He grinned and Arthur's expression relaxed a fraction.
"Git," Arthur said.
Merlin struggled to sit up and Arthur let him. Then he leaned forward and slid the leather top from Arthur's shoulders before going for his over-shirt. Arthur was holding himself very still. "What are you—" he started, then stopped, allowing Merlin to pull off his boots. When Merlin went for the fastenings of his trousers he came to life, brushing him away and tugging off Merlin's own top, revealing the bare skin beneath.
"You are far too skinny," Arthur said, smirking at him. "And look at those arms. Do you never—"
Merlin reached forward with one hand, very deliberately, and cupped the bulge between Arthur's legs.
Arthur froze and his lips parted. "W–what," he said, but didn't go on. When Merlin moved his hand, drawing his fingers over coarse material and pressing against the hardness beneath, Arthur made a soft, breathy noise and leaned in against Merlin, resting his cheek against Merlin's own.
This was unexpected, Merlin thought, and both reassuring and terrifying. He only had his own reactions to go on, when it came to this. Arthur was moving closer, if anything though, pushing his hips towards Merlin.
Merlin decided that the situation couldn't possibly get more embarrassing or awkward, so he might as well just do it. He managed, rather awkwardly, to get Arthur's trousers undone, and slid his hand inside. At first all he could find was heated skin and coarse hair, but he pushed his hand down further and managed to wrap his fingers around Arthur's length. Arthur groaned and his hands came down from their loose hold around Merlin's waist to tug his own trousers down to his knees.
Merlin ran his fingers along Arthur's rod. It was damp at the tip and very hot, and when he rubbed his thumb around in the wetness Arthur bucked and cursed, his hands coming up to grip Merlin's waist so tight it hurt.
Merlin nudged at Arthur's head. "Arthur—" he said, taking Arthur in a firmer grip and working his hand slowly up and down.
Arthur's eyelids were fluttering and he licked his lips. "Now is not the time for a chat, Merlin," he said through gasps.
"Do you want to lay with me?" Merlin said, feeling himself blush.
"Lay with—?" Arthur repeated. His eyes widened and his fingers tightened against Merlin's sides. His eyes rolled back in his head and Merlin felt a warm liquid spurt into his hand.
"Arthur?" he said after a moment, when Arthur didn't move. His face was very, very red.
"Lay with you?" Arthur said eventually, his voice uneven. "Lay with you? What are you, an old maid?" He sounded more sure of himself now. "Next you'll be asking if I want to make love, or—"
Merlin wiped his hand on the front of Arthur's shirt. "You seemed to like the idea," he said, trying not to grin. "I saw the evidence."
"That's hardly—" Arthur started. "I mean, it's no wonder—" He scowled and sat down, back against the wall, tucking himself back into his clothes. Then he smiled. It was a wicked smile and Merlin felt suddenly nervous. "Come here."
"Why?" Merlin asked.
"Are you disobeying me?" Arthur asked, rather haughtily.
Merlin rolled his eyes, shuffling over to Arthur, who tugged him down so he was sitting between Arthur's legs, his back against Arthur's chest.
"What are you doing?" Merlin managed when Arthur, without comment, wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist, undoing his trousers and slipping a hand between his legs. "Oh—"
Arthur's hand was cool but it wasn't unpleasant, and Merlin had never been touched down there by anyone else before in such a way. Arthur could have had the worst technique in the world and Merlin would still have felt like he was going to die from arousal. Arthur's other hand was stroking against his belly under his shirt, and his mouth was warm and wet against Merlin's throat. He was sucking hard, and Merlin expected he'd leave a mark. The idea made him buck his hips hard into Arthur's hand. Being claimed wasn't unpleasant, after all.
"So, you'd like me to fuck you?" Arthur said. He said it in that cool, arrogant tone that infuriated Merlin, but as he did so his grip around Merlin's length tightened and he bit, hard, against Merlin's neck. The tingling feel that coiled around Merlin's groin built and overflowed, spreading along his thighs and up his stomach before releasing itself in several aching, wonderful pulses.
When he'd recovered his breath, Arthur's arms were tight around him and when he leaned back, Arthur laughed but pressed a kiss against his neck.
"That was nice," Merlin managed.
"Nice?" Arthur said. "Nice?" He snorted. "You are such an old woman."
"Shut up," Merlin said, not offended. He wasn't exactly comfortable, but he felt a strange bubbling joy rising up inside him. Then he grinned. "That means that you just had your hand down an old woman's—"
Arthur shoved him and Merlin broke off, grinning even wider. "Ugh," Arthur said. He ran a hand through Merlin's hair, tugging him back against him. Then he wiggled and pushed Merlin away again. "You are far too bony," he complained.
"It's your fault," Merlin said, laughing as he straightened his clothes. "You work me to the bone—"
"You are the laziest person I know!" Arthur said, mock-scandalised. "If you did any less work you'd be – be..."
"Like an old woman?" Merlin supplied.
"Yes!" Arthur said. Then, when he saw Merlin grinning at him, "No!"
"This is sexual harassment of your staff," Merlin said, feeling an irresistible urge to tease Arthur.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Watch it you, or I'll have you—"
"In your bed?" Merlin suggested, seeing how red Arthur could go. "In the dungeon, in chains?" Arthur was flushed, but he still had an amused smirk on his face. "Dressed in skirts," Merlin continued, winking. "Riding me like a horse—"
Merlin found himself suddenly gagged by Arthur's hand, clamped over his mouth, so he bit him and Arthur released him with an exclamation. "Ow!" Arthur said. "That hurt, you bastard!" Then Arthur looked at Merlin very speculatively.
"What?" Merlin said. He didn't like the expression on Arthur's face – like he was about to die from laughter.
"Your ears—" Arthur managed, snorting. He composed his face.
"What about them?" Merlin asked, very slightly offended. They weren't exactly subtle, and he'd always been teased about their shape and size.
"They'd make," Arthur managed between huge breaths, "brilliant hand-holds, my faithful horsey."
Merlin pounced on him, not sure how exactly he was going to kill him, but certain that he was going to shake the smile off his face. He ended up helpless with laughter though, and once he'd started, Arthur couldn't stop either. Merlin collapsed on top of Arthur helpless, short of breath and still laughing every time he looked at Arthur's face.
"Get off, you big lump," Arthur said when he'd managed to stop laughing. "You know, you weigh far too much for someone so weedy."
"Well, you like me," Merlin said. "What does that say about your taste?" He wished he hadn't said it as soon as the words came out of his mouth. They were a joke, but he didn't know exactly what Arthur felt about him – and he didn't know exactly how he felt about Arthur, either. Most of the time Arthur was so annoying that Merlin wanted to strangle him with his bare hands – but he didn't want anyone else to do it. That privilege was reserved for Merlin alone, and he'd give his life to ensure it.
"Hmm," Arthur said, sitting up and rubbing a hand through his hair. "You presume a lot, don't you?"
"Er, yes," Merlin said, feeling sheepish. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
But Arthur just waved a hand in dismissal of the apology. "I suppose you're tolerable," he said, his lips quirking. "I'd like you more if you could get me out of this cave, though. Call yourself a wizard?"
"Well, no," Merlin said. "Because Uther would behead me if I did."
Arthur snorted. "Just get us out, will you? I've had enough of this hard floor. I need a wash and a drink." He smiled, lifting up his chin and looking down at Merlin. "You can be my handmaiden if you want. Call it a promotion."
Merlin whacked him on the arm. "Don't be an idiot," he said.
"Oh, come on," Arthur said, standing up and pulling Merlin up with him. "You can protect me. I have faith in you. Blast away the soil, or whatever magic trick you can do."
I have faith in you. It was nice, Merlin thought. Very nice indeed. Even if the big prat should have had faith in him all along. "Fine," he said, buoyed up by Arthur's good opinion. He held tight to Arthur's arm. "When I say run, run."
Arthur nodded and Merlin spoke the words of a spell. A stream of light burst from his palm, and when he blinked, spots in front of his eyes, the way was clear.
"Was that it?" Arthur asked, looking out. "That's pathetic. There was hardly anything blocking the way out at all. You are such an idiot, Merlin."
"Me?" Merlin protested, following Arthur out of the cave. Arthur was already walking away, using the special walk of someone storming off in a big, sulky huff.
"Yes, you!" Arthur said. "And now we have no horses so we'll have to walk all the way back."
"Again, not my fault," Merlin muttered.
Then Arthur stopped dead. He turned around and grinned, unexpectedly, and slapped Merlin on the arm, almost knocking him over. "Could have been worse though, eh?"
Merlin rolled his eyes but couldn't stop himself from grinning back. "You are such a prat," he said.
"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" Arthur reproved, although not with any heat.
"A royal prat?" Merlin said, his grin widening.
"It's definitely the dungeons for you," Arthur said, shaking his head in mock dismay and starting to walk again. But he slipped an arm through Merlin's own, and he was warm and solid against him.
When the castle came into view, some hours later, it was streaming with lights and Arthur sighed. "My father is going to be angry," he said, which Merlin thought was a bit of an understatement.
"He'll blame me," Merlin said gloomily.
"It is your fault," Arthur agreed. "I think you'll need to grovel for a very long time to make up for this."
Merlin gaped at him. "You arse," he said, but grinned widely when Arthur's face flushed a rosy colour, his throat moving.
"I'm going to see my father," Arthur said, not looking quite as comfortable as he'd done a few moments ago. "Escape now. I'll make your excuses."
"Thanks," Merlin said. "I could do with some slee—"
"Sleep?" Arthur said, raising his chin and looking very stern. "You're my manservant. I expect to find you in my room when I'm done, to help me get ready for bed." He waved a hand. "You're dismissed."
Merlin nodded and made his way to his room, trying not to run until he knew he was out of Arthur's line of sight. Then he dashed as fast as he could, wanting to get a wash and a change of clothes before he made his way to Arthur's room. It was going to be a long night, he suspected. A long night with an infuriating, irritating, selfish, royal git.
And the absolute worst thing about it all? He couldn't wait.