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Arthur knew that nothing about the situation should have been funny. They were stuck in the woods, storm clouds rapidly closing in on them and they could not return to Camelot until Merlin was...well, Merlin again. Because while the excuse of suffering from a mental affliction tended to be enough to cover general idiocy, there was no way for them to explain how it was Merlin had become a girl without exposing his magic or sending Uther on a witch hunt. And while Arthur was still marveling at just how terrible Merlin was at being a sorcerer – even more so than he was as a manservant, unbelievably – he was also stuck trying to hide the fact that Merlin was rather pretty as a girl. In a really, truly horrifying way, of course. Or so he told himself.
“You’re staring at me again,” Merlin snapped, back still turned to Arthur.
“Well, it’s rather hard not to! I mean, you’re—you’re a girl!”
“I’m quite aware of that! You know, instead of trying to peek down my bodice,” Merlin all but growled, sounding far less threatening with his voice having changed to a soft alto, “you could try finding us shelter. From the rain.” He pointed toward the dark patch of sky, face thunderous.
Beautifully thunderous, Arthur thought, then shook his head. Ignoring Merlin’s words, Arthur settled for sliding his hand over his face once more, fingers splayed wide because he truly could not tear his gaze away. Merlin was sitting halfway round the other side of the tree, but he was turned slightly toward Arthur, his face tilted just enough to the side that Arthur had a clear shot of his profile.
Arthur could make out the sweeping fan of his lashes, black as a raven’s wing against his pale skin, the sharp jut of his cheekbones and the tense set of his shoulders. He could imagine the rest; Merlin’s hands twisted in the fabric of his skirt – and Arthur would really have to remember to ask how he had managed to change that, as he knew they had brought no women’s clothing with them – because that’s what he always did with the hem of his tunic when he realized he had just royally screwed something up, and the dip of his very unseemly bodice, cut so low that Arthur had glimpsed the pale curves of his breasts before Merlin had managed to hide.
“I just—” Arthur paused, at a loss for words. “What kind of mispronunciation results in this?” And can we try it again once we’re back in Camelot, so that I strip away your—and no, Arthur was not going to allow that train of thought to continue. Not. At. All. Or at least not while Merlin looked fit to turn him into something small and decidedly unpleasant. Not to mention unable to enjoy Merlin’s new assets.
“I could not begin to tell you, but here, let me try the spell on you, shall I? Maybe I can figure out where I went wrong!”
Arthur opened his mouth to tell Merlin exactly what he thought of that – No, I don’t think you shall! – but then his brain caught up with the implications and he stopped, mouth open, words half-formed on his tongue.
“That—could be interesting,” he concluded, eyeing Merlin’s back. Arthur fancied it wouldn’t matter if his tongue was that of the crown prince of Camelot or of a young maid once he was applying it to the curve of Merlin’s neck. A tongue was a tongue and Merlin, well, Arthur wouldn’t mind tasting him both as a girl and then again as a boy, if only for comparison.
Merlin huffed in response, the sound both indignant and something else Arthur couldn’t place. “So now that I’m a girl, you’re all set to ravish me? No respect for Merlin the sorcerer. I’m sent to the stocks for you on a weekly basis, you covered me in disgusting smelling berries on a hunch that they would prevent me from being eaten by an overly large rat, I had to taste a fake troll potion – and I’ll have to remember to tell you just what went into that nasty concoction – and now you want to—to despoil me in the middle of the woods!” As he spoke, his voice rose higher and higher until even he was wincing.
“Is it the part about us being in the woods that bothers you?” Arthur inquired. “Or is it the fact that I never showed interest in you when you were male?”
“Like I care about that when I’m like this!” Merlin hissed the words out, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tired and humiliated and god how he wished the stupid spell would wear off.
There was a loud crack of thunder in the distance, and it jolted Arthur from his disturbing thoughts of a debauched Merlin spread out against the deep crimson of Arthur’s bed, and into the present once more. With a sigh, he stood and offered a hand to Merlin. He winced at the icy glare he received in return, then bit back a smile when Merlin stepped on the hem of his skirt, nearly falling over as he climbed to his feet. As he turned in the direction of shelter, Arthur grabbed the pack and brace of rabbits he had meant to take home for small feast Uther had been planning to celebrate the beginning of harvest. They would have to serve as dinner for the two of them, instead.
“There’s a cave not far from here. We passed it just a few minutes before your, er, spell went awry.”
Merlin sighed, eyes darting furtively toward the heavy rainclouds. “Best hurry along then. I don’t particularly fancy the idea of being wet in this outfit.”
Arthur refrained from sharing his opinion on the matter. Leading the way to the cave, he kept his lips pressed firmly together lest he say anything else damaging. Or damning. They were still a distance away when the sky opened above them and the rain came pelting down, but Arthur was one step ahead of it, unclasping his cloak so that he could swing it around Merlin, settling the heavy material about his shoulders.
“So you don’t have to feel uncomfortable,” he explained when both Merlin’s eyebrows rose.
There was a moment of silence and then Merlin muttered, almost grudgingly, “thank you.”
By the time they reached the cave, Arthur was drenched, Merlin only slightly less so, and the storm outside was in full rage. It took him some doing, but after a few false starts, Merlin managed to get a fire going and their food cooked. Before Arthur knew it, the meal was done, the bedrolls were laid out and Merlin...Merlin was still a girl.
“You’ll probably be back to normal when you wake up,” Arthur offered, trying his best to look as certain as he sounded.
“Right.”
There was another lengthy, awkward silence during which Merlin fought a losing battle in trying to get his wet dress sorted out. His attempt to dry it had resulted in one part becoming singed, burning his leg. After watching the struggle for a few seconds, Arthur relented, feeling honor-bound to offer his own nightclothes. He ducked out of the cave to relieve himself while Merlin changed, making sure that he made noise when he returned so he didn’t wind up receiving an eyeful of Merlin’s girl bits. Not that he would have minded. When he stepped back into their cave, it was to find Merlin already in his bedroll, the blanket pulled up to his chin.
“Well, goodnight then,” Arthur offered.
Merlin nodded jerkily in response and laid down, his back to Arthur. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire, the rain pelting down and the wind whistling through the trees, but as Arthur attempted to settle down to sleep, all he could think was that the knowledge that a very female Merlin was lying just a few steps away, clothed in little more than Arthur’s nightshift.
It was, he thought with a sigh, going to be a very long night.