TWO PRINCES - Merthur

T H R E E

"I'm telling you Gwen," Merlin whines the next day as he trapes after the dark haired beauty who weaves expertly through the village, dodging all manner of obstacles in her way.

She's carrying a wooden basket filled with an assortment of colourful fabrics under her arm, perched snuggly against her hip, and she pushes through the men, women and children who fill Camelot's busy streets. Merlin has the distinct feeling that she's ignoring him but he continues despite that, "there's something off about this guy."

The man in question is back at the castle, holding council with Arthur, Agravaine and several representatives from both kingdoms, commencing their peace talks and seeing if they might come to an agreement on how best to move forward, united.

Merlin is not holding his breath, he knows of Camelots history with de la Deserte, namely how they provided them with that title, and so he cannot imagine what Arthur and his strange uncle could possibly offer them that would recover years of misdeeds.

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen says, not even bothering to spare him a glance. He can hear the pitty in her voice and bristles instinctively at the implication. "People are not wicked just because they're bold enough to flirt with you."

He trips over his feet and splutters cleverly, struggling to keep pace with her as they finally come up to her quaint cottage. "That's not-" he pauses, true dancing on his lips but never quite breaking the sound barrier. Hes not certain that flirting is the right way to describe the newcomers actions towards him, though he's uncertain how exactly to describe it if not that. Sighing, he continues; "It's not that, Gwen, he's-"

"Handsome?" She finishes, leading them into the house and dropping the basket onto the dining table in the centre, "charming? Endearing? Kind?"

"Odd." Merlin decides, scratching his neck. "There's something seriously off about him."

Gwen seems to have gone back to ignoring him, as she plucks a fabric from the top of the pile and lays it out onto the table, studying it thoughtfully. She repeats this several times before finally looking back up to Merlin who's watching her closely, eyes pleading. She huffs and removes the next fabric with a bit more vigor. "Even if he is someone to be cautious of," she says finally, emphasising the 'if' to her sentence, "he's not expected to stay here long - you only have to put up with his...unusualness? for a fleeting period of time," she smooths her hands across the table, "surely you can manage that," she looks up at him, eyes speaking a thousand words, "for Arthur's sake?"

Merlin grumbles but plucks a new peice of fabric from the top of the pile and mirrors his friends movements on his side of the table. He can do this, he thinks, running his hands over the fabric. For Arthur's sake.

***

Prince Claudin's initiation to Camelot includes, in all its evident unfairness, a first hand experience of the knights daily practice rounds.

Merlin, and more men than have ever bothered to join them before, all bustle out of the castle mid afternoon to get a first hand look at how their royal guests' skills fair in comparison to their beloved Camelot warriors.

Normally practice would take place first thing every morning, which may also count towards todays attendance being somewhat greater, since today's training had been delayed until mid-day, having been put off to allow for the first round of peace discussions between the two kingdoms.

The talks seem to have gone promisingly well thus far, as much as Merlin can tell from the glimpses of Arhur he's able to gleam amongst the princes busy schedule. The fact the wizard has been unfairly isoltated from all manner of meetings that are to be conducted over the next several days is ridiculous, but Arthur had told him with defined certainty that he was indisputably banished from coming within 3 feet of the assembly room. Had Gwen not been available to distract him during todays first round of talks he's half certain he would have been caught compromisingly with his ear against the door.