Disclaimer: None of these characters, places, etcetera belong to me. Please don't sue. I have no money.
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"What?" Merlin stared at Prince Arthur, holding the light pink tunic as though it were a rotting carcass. The prince of Camelot had gone insane; he was sure of it. "Arthur. No. Just no." He folded the offensive outfit and placed it on the table behind him, pushing it towards the furthest corner of the oak surface. He turned around and looked back at Arthur, crossing his arms. "You've got to be joking."
"Alright. Perhaps that didn't work. I'll give you that. But this," Arthur flapped a dark sun-colored jerkin and smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle, gesticulating sarcastically at the article of clothing as he did so. "This, now, this is steeped in 'noble bearing.' Now hurry up and put it on." He balled up the pleated material and threw it at Merlin's head.
"I hardly think-" Merlin tried to retort, but the heavy material sailed through the air and hit him in the face.
"Oh, believe me, I've noticed." Arthur called over his shoulder as he set to work tearing through the contents of his gargantuan oak wardrobe. "But don't you worry, your liege," He said brightly in mock solicitousness. "I will cloth you as appropriate for the royal court. It will require no thought on your part, as I know it hurts you."
Merlin freed his head from the jerkin and let it drop to the floor. "Arthur, just hold on a moment." He picked his way through the mess of clothing and discarded ornamental finery, dodging a thrown cloak and errant black satchel as he made his way to Arthur's side. "You have to be aware that this has no hope of working," His voice held a note of barely concealed annoyance. "At all. I haven't got"
Arthur turned to him abruptly and pushed Merlin roughly back and onto the bed. "Oh do be quiet, Merlin." He said imperiously, looking down at him sternly before grabbing hold of Merlin's ankle and giving the boy's boot a firm tug. "I am Prince Arthur, and as such, I will make it work." When the boot showed no signs of relenting, he took hold of it with both hands and gave it a sharp yank.
"I –ow! Stop it!" Merlin grabbed hold of his own thigh and tried futilely to regain possession of his leg; Arthur was beginning to scare him in his earnestness. "The buckle! Haven't you removed a boot before!?" On second thought, some inconsequential part of Merlin's brain commented, he probably hasn't; at least not that I've seen.
Merlin attempted a glare at the overly enthusiastic prince, but to no effect. Perhaps if he reasoned with the heir apparent, the agitating prat would listen. "I haven't got a chance of being mistaken as a member of the royal house, Arthur. Please."
Arthur paid him no heed. "If I dressed you in blue and white, would you be able to act like an Anwynnian nobleman, Merlin, or would you prefer Cantalgry? They've got a sort of grey- "
"Sire." Merlin tried a slightly different tact, looking beseechingly up at his tormentor with wide eyes. "Trust me on this; No one is going to buy it. And if anyone finds out, Arthur, I- I'll be locked up until I'm gray." Merlin was growing weary of Arthur's use of him as a source of entertainment. The prince either didn't realize or didn't mind that the repercussions that Merlin had to endure from these little forays were agonizing and very often utilized rotting produce.
Arthur glanced up from his molestation of the offending footwear and gave Merlin a self-confident smirk. It was an eerie sight, the prince looking down at him with such superiority as he removed Merlin's boots. "It isn't as though anyone of importance will know who you are. In any case," He scoffed, pushing Merlin's pant leg up and shoving his fingers into the opening of the boot to get a firmer grip. "The nobles of the Tintagel territory aren't in any position to comment on the lineage of anyone, much less anyone that belongs to Camelot's court. The accusation in itself would be more outrageous than the claim."
The door to Arthur's chambers opened and Gwen strode in with folded linen in hand. "Excuse me, sire-" She began, but stopped just inside the doorway, eyes wide. As she stared at them, Merlin lain out on the prince's bed as Arthur leaned over him with his servant's dirty boot beneath his arm, she cleared her throat nervously once or twice before setting down the bundle next to the door. "I'll just put these here, then."
Merlin just gave her a short wave and a sheepish smile. Arthur turned, paused for a moment as he looked at her, and then abruptly dropped Merlin's leg; it fell with a sharp smack against the frame of the bed. Merlin winced. "Yes. Thank you. Right there is fine." Arthur said uncomfortably. Gwen paused a moment more, blinking at the prince. After a few seconds, she curtsied, shot Merlin a worried look, and reluctantly closed the door behind her as she left.
"Right then." Arthur continued, stepping back from Merlin and avoiding catching his servant's grin. After a moment of silence, he purposefully walked over to a seemingly random pile of clothing and swept it into his arms. "Get yourself dressed already; we're out of time. Wear this," he heaped the bundle of cloth onto Merlin's lap and stepped towards the door. "I have obligations to care to; you have twenty minutes." And with that, Arthur tromped out and banged the door shut behind him.
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Right-o. Do review if you are so inclined. I admit that this is my first fanfiction, and so I probably desperately need some concrit up in here. Thank you for reading. (=