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Merlin had always been a little taller than Arthur.
It was obvious; there was no way around it. Before Arthur would issue an order, he would brace his shoulders and straighten his back, jut his chin out just the slightest bit and try to make himself taller—only to end up having to raise his head a little (just a tiny little bit, seriously) to look up into Merlin’s eyes.
It sucked. Royally. It sucked royally royal balls, Arthur decided. He was the Prince, soon to be King, he should not have to look up at his manservant.
So he did what any self-respecting regent would do in his stead: played the part of the royal prat convincingly, commanded Merlin around and disciplined the boy by cuffing him up the head whenever he was being his usual indolent, brazen self.
—
Arthur had always been a little shorter than Merlin.
It was obvious; there was no way around it. Before Merlin would hear the order Arthur was about to issue, he would be able to watch Arthur puffing up like an affronted rooster ruffling its feathers, and he would get the exquisite mental picture of a meerkat!Arthur squinting his eyes as he raised himself on his hind legs, stretching his body out to make himself taller so he would be able to look into Merlin’s eyes.
It was adorable. The kitten kind of adorable. Because Arthur was like a kitten, Merlin decided. One of the beautiful ones, sleek and gorgeous with hidden claws from hell—one of the bitchy, pouty ones, answering you with their butts instead of a ‘meow’, and even though Arthur’s butt was of the incredibly peachy and perfect variety, Merlin shouldn’t have to look at his Prince’s butt at a regular basis without being able to put his hands on that perfection.
So he did what any human in possession of a functioning brain would do in his stead: let Arthur believe he was the leader of the pack when in reality Merlin held the leash, smiling to himself as he dragged the tiny old fusspot after himself. He liked to visualise it like this: Arthur, a tiny white puppy, dragged Merlin—a tall, thin dark-haired dog—at a leash displaying his wiggling bum directly before Merlin’s eyes (reminiscent of the way Arthur would sometimes, unconsciously, sway his hips a little too much when he was walking) before Merlin just couldn’t be bothered with Arthur’s stupidity anymore and simply bit down on the leash, tugged on it and dragged Arthur’s reluctant, growling fluffy white arse over the carpet to where Merlin wanted to go instead.