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What did it mean to be the prince?
To the civilians, it meant that he lived life in the lap of luxury. Never to be hungry, to be cold outside in the rain that pelted the walls. It meant to them that the Kingdom still had a chance, a life. It meant survival, and someone that would guide their world one day, to prosperity or ruin.
To the knights, it meant someone to protect. To vow loyalty to see what the person deep down is. It meant a person who would be given their lives to be controlled by the ultimate straw of hope within the kingdom that must stay strong and well meaning.
The word Prince was a vast idea. A world of what if’s and maybe. A chance to take without a single choice of escape than leaving one’s home and loved ones. A gamble on whether humans are genuinely good and if someone that never has struggled for a single pence would understand when gold turned to zinc.
What did it truly mean to be a Prince?
Arthur had awoken that particular morning to the low rumble of thunder, and the noise of heavy rain pelting his window. His room is nearly pitch black, besides the crackle of the fireplace and the occasional snap of bright, startling light. The lack of light made the young man grumble as he fought against his bedding to extract his feet. The stone floor was icy as he stood, trying to remember where his rug had gone off to. Blankets wrapped tightly around his shoulders slipped off the ruined bed. Hanging off his shoulders like a heavy cloak, trying to tempt him back to bed, even as he goes towards the table.
Deep inside, Arthur might have said that he had felt that the room was off. Perhaps it was because his bed was empty, or that the man that usually laid his head on the second pillow had not woken up Arthur before he left the room. Arthur did know he left and did not get kidnapped again, since his stupid little necktie had been taken. But that added to the questions. The main one that dug into Arthur’s mind, why was there a frilly box sitting on his table? It was wrapped tightly up in ribbons and bows. Frills and flows that would have been much more appropriate for any of the noble ladies that came around to flaunt themselves like a chicken to a rooster. Arthur’s finger traces the uneven wood around the box as he glared down at the unusual object. Alarm bells rang in his head before a sprout of worry slinks into his heart.
This was a Merlin thing, that much he could tell as he stared down at the object as if it was walking around naked. Everything odd somehow landed back into the lap of that certain useless servant, and usually ended up with one or both bleeding and in each other’s arms. What was it that Merlin had once grumbled out of annoyance? Two sides of the same coin?
Right, he had to find Merlin. His mind rang out a million things that must be said before breakfast had even been served. Firstly, why did he leave much before the morning sun would ever be up? If the morning sun was up, hidden behind all the dark clouds. That was a good secondary question if it was even morning.
Well, a question to figure out later. That is what he decided as the prince dressed in the firelight. Day or night did not matter, truly. What mattered is where did Merlin go? If it was morning, perhaps he was trying to find breakfast for the two of them. That was logical. Or maybe he ran out to get some herb or another that was demanded of him. There were so many possibilities that could be the reason Merlin had left long before Arthur’s conscious stirred but he could not find a good enough reason that would ever mean that it was worthwhile to abandon the room.
The gift box was tempting to open. Sure, usually things that made his skin crawl meant that he would avoid it like a sickness. However, not having Merlin around and this odd box appearing in his place made him curious. There was an itch, scratching the back of his mind, to reach out and unwrap the box.
So, he did. Who would stop him?
Carefully, Arthur undid all the bells and whistles of the box, eventually lifting the pink top. Inside, a bundle of blue shivered and shook furiously. Moving as if it was breathing on its own. As Arthur moved to touch it, the thing busted out into small balls of blue lights, scattering wildly around the room. The room filled with bright blue lights almost making Arthur close and shield his eyes from the way that they burned. Laughter filled the air along with what sounded like whispers that did not quite sound right, as if it was spoken a room away. Tails of dust that trailed behind each light snapping and weaving its way about before shooting out of the door.
“Oi!” Arthur shouted, seeing the blue light- magic, he realized- leave the protection of his room. That was absolutely the worst thing to be roaming around the halls. Rushing to slam open the door and bolting down the hallway, Arthur tried to follow them, perhaps even thinking of catching them before realizing in his head that there was no way to. Then a thought seemed to be planted in his head that made him run faster. These lights would lead him to Merlin. This he knew without a single doubt. There was no way that they would not lead him to the manservant, to his lover. With new resolve, Arthur pushed on, now sprinting down the halls.
If anyone saw the prince running through the halls like a madman, they might have laughed. Or spread rumors that someone cursed him. Even that he himself was rushing to catch the magic user. If anyone spotted him, it would have been impossible to clean up the rumors that would certainly run rampant. Sure, he could storm down hallways without question, but running with his hair barely even attempted to be tamed? The horror that would spread among the noble class.
It really should have made him slow down, or even noticed that not a soul haunted the halls of that stormy day. Not a maid, nor knight, or servant darkened a single corner. But Arthur’s eyes were glued on the blue dancing lights that almost seemed to laugh as they skittered up the floors.
“Will you stop moving so fast?!” Arthur screamed as he nearly tripped over the uneven steps. Gritting his teeth as he dug his nails into his own hand. A sense of familiarity of this entire event. Bracing even as he stumbles up the stairs for impact. Before his foot catches on a blue light and sends him slipping down the narrow staircase. Stone scraping his legs and hands as he tries to keep from falling. Even if the blue lights were guiding him, the laughter that came from them almost seemed as if they were trying to keep him away.
“Stupid- magic-” Arthur whispers swears under his breath, glaring at the dancing orbs that continue to flutter away. Trying to leave him behind. He takes a moment, taking a deep breath before pushing himself fully up. This time, walking slower up the staircase to not make the same mistake again.
He had to get to Merlin at the top.
It was a long trek up to the top of the tower. Once the wooden trapdoor flung open, hitting the stone, Arthur could hear a melodic tone. It was soft, deeper than any of the housekeepers would sing in, and in a language that Arthur could not pinpoint. Blue lights flutter around the dusty flooring. Of which made Arthur sneeze, shaking his head as he pulled himself firmly up.
“Merlin” Arthur calls out, hearing the man gasp and stumble behind a bunch of boxes. Making Arthur snort and chuckle at the antics. “What are you doing? Why are you hiding away in this tower? Acting like a wallowing princess, huh?”
For a few beats, silence fills the stuffy air. The heavy rain beating down on the roof above them and the slow rustling of fabric of Arthur climbing up fully attempted to fill the quiet but instead made the silence feel heavier.
It made Arthur’s stomach twist and flip for a moment before he opened his mouth, “So the gift was from you?” He asks slowly, “I should have known, only you would be stupid enough to give a prince a girly gift. Why are you up here anyways? This place is a mess.”
Moments of silence passed between them. Arthur sighing through his nose before moving to look behind the boxes. Finding Merlin, keeping his eyes firmly away from the other. Red painting his cheeks. “Merlin, come on, what is the matter? Why are you hiding like this?” Arthur asks as he puts a hand over Merlin’s shoulder. Gripping his shoulder tightly. “This is not like you at all. Merlin!”
“I just wanted to take a moment alone” Merlin finally grumbles softly, turning finally to face the other. The golden hue of his eyes always made Arthur’s breath catch in his throat. Arthur’s fingers relax for a moment, slowly slipping down from his shoulder. The scratchy material felt rough against his fingers until he intertwined his fingers with Merlin’s.
“You know it’s safer to practice in my rooms than anywhere else on the grounds” Arthur mutters, lifting their jointed hands and pressing a soft kiss to the taller man’s knuckles. The forever boney knuckles that, no matter how much Arthur insisted on Merlin eating more to fill out a bit, never changed. Neither of them changed.
Merlin shakes his head slowly before sinking down, dragging Arthur down to the ground with him. "I wasn't really practicing" He admits softly, "I was thinking."
"about what?" Arthur had to dust away some filth from the ground, but looked at the other to make sure that he was giving his full attention. "Were you scared that someone would catch you? I could just force them to stay silent-"
“That’s not what I was thinking about, Arthur,” Merlin sighs deeply as he quickly interrupts Arthur's train of thought, leaning back against the boxes and listening to the rain outside. “It’s more than that-” the man starts, before pausing and sighing once more. Trying a few more times to continue his sentence. “-Don’t you get tired of the same thing? Being in the same rooms, same place, constantly? Feeling as if things are caught in a dead end?”
The sudden worry was not usual, but something in his mind told him that it was exactly right. Arthur takes a deep sigh before rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, keeping a tight grip on the mage’s. “Not if it is with you. I think I could spend eternity like this”
“Even when you can’t be yourself?” Merlin raises an eyebrow at the other. Making Arthur snort sharply and smile.
“If we’re in the same boat, I think I could survive.”