The Green Eyed King [merthur, freard, pwaine]

Chapter 1 - Rotten Tomatoes Squelchy Apples and Mouldy Cabbage Oh My

Merlin has always gone underappreciated in his life. He was always the last to eat at parties, always the person to hold the door open, no thank you Pete in reply to his, admittedly, too loony, too friendly smile. He couldn't help that, with his too big ears and his ratty clothing. That was just who he was that week.

But this. This blatant disrespect Arthur thrusted upon him was way too much sometimes. 'I mean, honestly', Merlin thought with a scowl as he washed his hundredth muddy boot with a thought, magic filled air almost soothing his soul, but, not enough to be happy with the turn of events.

"Wash my boots, Merlin," mumbled Merlin sourly, sounding like a loon in the streets. "Muck my stables, Merlin."

Arthur was very noble. Merlin understood this, from the way he cared about his people and the way he fought so passionately in battle for the rights of his people and friends. He clearly was very noble.

With Merlin, Arthur never showed any of that. He demanded of him, belittled him. Maybe he was joking around, but to Merlin, it didn't matter.

Arthur would never see him in his true light. Saving his life too many times to count. Maybe Merlin could trust him with his secret, he wanted to...oh gods did he want to tell Arthur. But. He would never accept him.

That just wasn't how it worked. Sure, Arthur wasn't like his father, Uther, hatred of magic oozing out his pores like a ripped up sponge, too ratty to use, yet too unused to throw away. He was thrown away, in a way, though, as he died. Bad metaphor there, Hank Green.

But, and maybe this was just the paranoid side of his brain talking, he wasn't so sure in his beliefs that he was just gonna drop to his knees in front of Arthur, confess his love and that be it. Magic. Confess his magic.

He wasn't ready to face that fact just yet. Denial. He wasn't denying that he was in denial. Merlin does not know what the word denial means in the first place then, and the author is just probably sleep deprived. Shh, they didn't break the fourth wall, what are you talking about.

He heard footsteps and went into a panic!

He stopped the flow of his magic abruptly, the boot hitting the dusty ground with a large plop. Someone should really dust these floors more often. No one was going to do it, though. Absolutely no one, because, in this castle, people were lazy sods, himself not excluded because he was just using magic to clean one boot. He has no room to talk.

"Merlin!" Oh great.

"Yes, your royal Clotpole?" Merlin asked with a smile. He knew he was too sarcastic for his own good. One time, when he was captured by bandits, he was so sarcastic that they just let him go, saying he wasn't worth it. See! Complaining and sarcasm do make a difference.

"Merlin," Arthur sighed, too used to Merlin's antics to really care, not even that angered by them anymore, saying just to put up a front, "maybe you should go to the stocks for that insolence."

Merlin choked on his spit. He probably would choke on much more if he were put in the stocks, if memory served correctly. Rotten tomatoes, squelchy apples, and mouldy cabbage, oh my.

"I'm sorry."

Arthur looked at him as if he was crazy. More so than usual, actually.

"You're sorry? Whatever for? You never apologize, Merlin."

"I'm sorry for the insolence, sire."

Merlin was looking at his feet, for once too upset to make eye contact. If he tried to make friendly jibes like they used to, he was shot down. Tried to apologize, Arthur didn't accept it. He didn't know how to win these days.

"Merlin." Arthur sighed. He left the room, and Merlin continued to look down at his feet.

Not just because he was upset, although that was a main part of it, no. He had a spot of mud on his favourite, cough, only, pairs of shoes.

Bollocks.

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