Destined to Rule

CHAPTER 1

Merlin groaned when the first beam of the sleeping morning sun gently, but still quite forcefully touched his skin. He pulled his blanket over his head, and turned to his other side. With this, he thought the problem of getting up was solved, and was just about to go back to sleep when he heard footsteps approaching.

"Merlin!" he heard the demanding voice that he could have recognised anywhere. "Where are you? You lazy, good-for-nothing servant!"

Arthur didn't care that bursting through a closed door without knocking is usually considered being rude. He kicked in Merlin's door, and approached the tiny bed. For a moment his eyes lingered on Merlin's innocently wide eyes, as the boy was peeking out from under the blanket. Merlin blinked, then sat up groggily before Arthur could have done something even more dramatical to get his servant out of bed.

"Couldn't you just knock?" Merlin asked scratching his head sleepily, while he was searching for his tunic and neckerchief.

"Merlin. I'm the Prince of Camelot. I do not knock."

"Sorry," laughed Merlin as he absent-mindedly put on his tunic, "what was that? I couldn't hear the first part. Did you say you are the Prat of Camelot?"

Arthur only threw one of his fine leather gloves to Merlin, turned his back, and started walking out of the room. "I will need you to polish my armour, prepare my horses and tidy my room. It's a bit of a mess."

Merlin groaned, pretending to be annoyed, although he was smiling. He loved teasing the Prince, and he even loved that he knew he was the only one who could do that without getting into trouble more. Well, if you don't count Arthur making him do as many chores as he can—or even more—to be a trouble.

Anyway, Merlin didn't consider that trouble, so he ran after the Prince happily. On his way to Arthur's room, he met several servants, all of whom were looking at him wondering how could he always be so cheerful. On the corridor of Arthur's chambers, he bumped into Percival, or rather Percival bumped into him, since the knight was totally preoccupied with a bottle he was holding.

"Oi! Watch your- Merlin? What are you doing here?"

"Er. It's Arthur's room," he pointed at the wooden door on his right. "I'm his manservant, you remember?" he added when he saw that Percival was still quite confused about Merlin 'randomly roaming the castle's corridors'.

"Hmm. Yeah."

"What are YOU doing here? Shouldn't you be out there training with the other knights?"

This seemed to knock Percival back into reality.

"Oh yes! I was about to join them. But we had a bet with Gwain, you see. He told me that he thinks I would never dare to be 'disrespectful' with Arthur. I told him, I would! Because, you know, you wouldn't want Gwain to think that you're a coward."

"Oh no, I wouldn't, would I?" Merlin grinned knowingly. "So, what's this bottle?"

"It's just-" started Percival but trailed off immediately. "You can't tell this anyone. Especially not Gwain!"

"I won't, I promise."

"I got this from Gaius. It's some kind of a potion that makes its consumer a bit groggy. You know, funny. And confused."

Merlin nodded, already dreading what would come next.

"I'll give it to Gwain. He'll think it's some kind of an ale, so he'll drink it. And when the potion kicks in, he'll become an idiot, and he will be the one who'll be disrespectful with the Prince."

"So," Merlin started mistrustfully "if I understand well, Gawain is right. You would never dare to be disrespectful with Arthur, so you rather have Gwain to be the one punished."