A Different Destiny / Merthur

Prince Prat

After two years of living in the city, Merlin was used to being ignored. He was ignored by the palace guards, who let him come and go as he pleased. He was ignored by Kilgarrah, who was nothing more than a cryptic with an inexhaustible supply of bad advice. And he was ignored by Gaius, whenever he asked a question that the old man didn't see fit to answer. He was not, however, used to being ignored by the Crown Prince of Camelot. In fact, the Prince would often hunt him down: ordering him to clean his chambers or polish his armour or help him dress. It was as if he was incapable of doing anything for himself. So why was it, for the third morning running, that Merlin had arrived in the Prince's chambers to find him up, dressed, and leaving for training with barely so much as a "hello" thrown hastily in his direction?

"Right," Merlin huffed to the now empty room, "I guess I'll show myself out."

In truth, he knew he should probably find some work to do.  Arthur's chambers were often in need of a good clean, or a tidy at the very least, and Merlin had already noticed a new collection of cobwebs growing along the far wall.  But Arthur was yet to make a complaint, so Merlin didn't feel too guilty about leaving the room and doubling back along the corridor. 

"What," Gaius looked up as Merlin entered, "back again so soon?"

"Turns out I wasn't needed."

The old man quirked an eyebrow.

"What?"

Gaius shrugged.  "Nothing.  It's just very unlike Arthur to be so..."

"Capable?  Independent?  Organised?"

"Merlin, he is the Prince.  Perhaps you shouldn't be too harsh."

"He's a prat is what he is.  What's the point of employing me if he doesn't want me?"

"Well," Gaius smiled, "since you seem to be so desperate for something to do—"

"That's not what I—"

"Here's a list of herbs," Gaius continued, ignoring him, "that I'd be ever so grateful if you'd retrieve for me."

Merlin glanced at the parchment.  At least twelve different names had been scrawled in a mess of lines and ink splotches.  "This is going to take all day, isn't it?"

Gaius shrugged, already shuffling back to his ridiculously overcrowded desk.  No wonder his handwriting was so bad.  Between the numerous stacks of books and potted plants, which seemed to be basking in the shaft of sunlight that fell through the window, the desk gave barely enough room to place a piece of parchment, let alone write on one.

Rolling his eyes, Merlin picked up a basket and made for the door.  If he was going to spend hours in the forest, at least he'd picked a nice day for it.

"Merlin," Gaius called, as he reached the door, "thank you."

~~~

Arthur had picked a hell of a day for training.  The sun had only just risen, and already it was beating down upon him and drawing beads of sweat from his forehead.  His armour felt heavy and more uncomfortable than usual, and more than once he'd almost been blinded by glints of sunlight reflecting off clashing swords.  Last time it had happened, he'd looked up to find Gwaine rehearsing different fighting stances, repeating the same movements over and over so that the light seemed to be perpetually in Arthur's eyes.  If it hadn't been for the concentration on his face, Arthur may have accused Gwaine of doing it on purpose.

In fact, it seemed that the only knight not currently training was Arthur himself.

He cursed.