Hey guys! So, yes, after that giant break, I am actually doing to fics that are kind of actually close to each other! Good for me! However, this might not last. This is why I need, not only a BETA, but someone who will get on me to update! Just PM me if you are interested! Thanks a lot guys! Now, onto the fic!

Prompt: Merlin is a better horseman than Arthur. {Prompted by Guest}

Summary: Contrary to popular belief (*hem hem* Arthur *hem hem*), horses do not, in fact, hate Merlin. But some people just won't believe him (*hem hem* still Arthur *hem hem*)

Arthur is in a bad mood. He has had a week of dealing with the most uppity and annoying nobles he has ever had the bad fortune of meeting, who seem to believe that because they are older than him that they have no real loyalty to him. He was woken this morning by his cheerfully annoying manservant, who doesn't seem to understand that no, he didn't get enough sleep last night, because some of us have actual work to do, Mer-lin. And then the food wasn't cooked right because the head cook is out with the flu, and his favourite shirt had a hole in it so he had to wear something else to send off the nobles he previously mentioned, who couldn't leave without a parting remark. Then he had to go train the new knights who are the sorriest lot of men, if they can even be considered that, he has trained. So no, Arthur is not in the best mood.

So when he is walking through town, trying to relax after a week from hell, and a great black beast of a horse nearly tramples him as it gallops off to god-knows-where, it is safe to say that Arthur doesn't react in the best of ways. He is just standing up as a group of stable-hands go rushing past him, presumably to catch that drasted horse, and Arthur reaches out and hand and catches one of the unfortunate boys by the collar.

"What" he growls "Is the meaning of this?"

The boy writhes in his grasp until he lets go, and then drops into a boy, stammering out a "Sire, sorry sire, you see, the new mare-and the stable-master said-and she opened the gate- and she was running- a –and we were just trying to get her back, sire." At this, the boy looks up, and really, did he have to have those doe-eyes?

Arthur huff out a frustrated sigh, and with a shove, sends the boy off. "Well then, go get her back."

Then Arthur makes his way determinedly over to the stables, where he is prepared to face the next obstacle of the week.

As he approaches the stables, he sees a figure, whom he assumes to be the stable master, shouting at a group of boys, before sending them scurrying off, probably another group after the horse. Arthur fights to keep a frown off his face as the boys bow to him as they rush past him.

When he reaches the stable master, the man is reaming out yet another young stable hand, who has, from what he understands, spilt some hay into the dung pile. Arthur cuts off the man mid-rant, and watches with satisfaction as the man turns to him and immediately drops into a bow, the stable hand following soon after.

"Master Felstead" Arthur acknowledges the man with a nod. "What is the meaning of the steed which very nearly ran me over not 5 minutes ago? I am to assume that you are unable to maintain order in your own stables." Arthur knows he is being unnecessarily rude, but he has really had quite the week, and being King must count for something, right?

At Arthur's comment, Felstead pales considerably, and only continues to pale as Arthur continues his vindictive remarks. Immediately after the King is done speaking, the man begins, stammering apologies in a way reminiscent of the young stable hand Arthur had just met.

"I'm really very sorry, sire, truly terribly sorry, I apologize completely, it's just that this new mare has been… unruly" the stable master says.

"And you can't do your job and get her under control?"

The man, if possible, pales even further, but manages to continue speaking. "No, no not at all sire, but not one of us can get her under control, you see, and I was planning on putting her down, but then she kicked down the hand attending to her and got loose, and I am terribly sorry, but we truly cannot get her under cont-" the stable master stops speaking abruptly, looking with shock over the King's shoulder. Arthur turns around, intrigued, only to see a sight that, before that moment, he would never have believed possible.

There, walking slowly towards him is the same beast that had nearly run over him that morning. Without the fear and shock from earlier, however, he can truly appreciate the size and beauty of this animal, and he admits to himself that even he would have a hard time wrangling a mare like that under control. Which just makes his next realization even more shocking; sitting atop this hulking black beauty is none other than Merlin, looking for all the world as though he is sitting atop a pony used in fairs for the amusement of the children rather than a horse that would tower near six hands above Arthur, who could certainly not be considered small.

It was only after Arthur had shaken off his shock, and pulled his jaw off the floor, that he noticed the group of stable boys trailing behind them, looking as flabbergasted as he felt. They were following behind the beast by a good distance, and, looking at the ruffled clothing and dirt on the boys, clearly attained from some hard falls, he assumed that distance was well earned.

Arthur then watched as Merlin lead the mare in a trot towards them, pulling the horse up short with only a slight tightening of his legs. Merlin then slid off the side of the horse with and amount of care Arthur was not familiar with having for an animal as terrifying as that one. It was only when Merlin was standing on the ground, caressing the black horse's mane as he looked at the king that Arthur realized the mare was wearing no saddle, nor any riding gear at all. He stared in shock as he realized the balance it must have taken to get up on that horse, and keep it steady.

"I believe this gentle giant belongs to you, Master Felstead?" Merlin said, breaking the blonde out of his reverie.

The stable master shook his head, perhaps more astonished than Arthur was. "Yes" he said, "But-but how…?"

"Oh, she's such a sweetheart" Merlin responded, looking back at the horse "That it really wasn't any trouble at all."

Then, with a boy lacking his usual cheek, the manservant walked off, whistling all the way.

And if no one but Merlin got within 10 feet of her, not even the king, well then, that's really no one's business, is it?

So I decided on the name Ffoais, which is a welsh term for flee/run away (I think), but if you're welsh and that is a stupid name, then you know what, why don't you go rant about it in the comments?

I'm still taking prompts, btw, even if I haven't answered all of them yet. But yeah.

-Blue