Merthur One-shots

It's Possible (For A Plain Country Bumpkin And A Prince To Join In Marriage)

“Well, I’ve stuck long enough and through your worst clotpole moments” Merlin said with a wry smile, “And let me remind you, prat: I’m happy to be your servant until the day I die”

“I don’t want you to just be my servant” Arthur said, eyes bright.

Merlin’s breath hitched.

“Court Sorcerer then?” he asked, testing the waters.

But Arthur pursed his lips before looking down onto the table.

“Yes” he replied, voice idly distant, “Yes I suppose so, eventually-”

What Arthur said next was too low for Merlin to hear, but he could have sworn it was,

“It will only be that, at the end”

After a sennight of preparations that had been taken over by Lord Agravaine, the day of the ball arrives.

Because of the amount of guests, it was decided that the courtyard would be the best place to hold the festivities, so for the whole day and hours in which the sun is out, the servants and other workers hired for the event transform the plaza into an outdoor ballroom.

The main entrance to the courtyard had been closed at the end of the previous day; everyone invited had been requested to arrive that same day in order to host the guests for the night before and after the festivities in order to create a secluded place.

Arthur spends the entire day locked in his chambers avoiding the guests, basking in Merlin’s company. If this is the last night of bachelorhood he is to have before being forced to choose a bride, there is no one else the blond would rather spend it with.

He doesn’t regret it one bit, his dear friend serving as the best distraction for him to forget about tonight with castle gossip, childhood tales and even chess revenges; but eventually the sun goes down and the light mood between the two men sours.

Arthur’s movements are stiff and distracted as Merlin prepares him for the ball, he’s not even aware that he’s fully dressed until his dear friend snaps his fingers in front of his face.

Blinking, he briefly catches Merlin’s worried stare before breaking the gaze to look in the mirror.

If it were any other occasion, Arthur would have admired the outfit that was tailored for the ball: a high collared white tunic that brought out the red and gold brocade sleeveless doublet that was accompanied by a belt around his waist, with dark brown breeches and boots completing the look- but the outfit only made him feel more despondent over the decision that he would inevitably have to make tonight.

“Be honest with me” Arthur said, turning to his friend, “How do I look?”

Merlin hummed, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Like a pompous prat” the raven replied. Arthur snorted.

“Not a royal one?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in slight challenge and confusion. That was, after all, the word that went next to Merlin’s favorite insult to him.

The warlock simply hummed again, pursing his lips as his eyes studied the Crown Prince, who valiantly tried to hide the shiver that ran on his spine.