The King and His Sorcerer

Part III: Touch

As for the first time Merlin touched Arthur, well, Merlin could remember that with the clarity of something that occurred not one second prior. He could remember everything about the moment, the surroundings, the conversation – it was all burned into his memory with the permanence of stone. There was not one thing that could make that memory any less important than it was.

After Uther Pendragon had inducted Merlin as Arthur’s manservant; an action which they had both wholeheartedly disagreed upon, Merlin knew that it would involve copious amounts of time spent in the presence of the irritating young prince. But, Merlin’s mother had not raised him to be disrespectful (at least when it came to people other than the prince himself), and not to dismiss an opportunity when one arose. And thus, Merlin accepted, although he hazarded that he would have had no say in the matter, regardless of his wants.

And Merlin was correct in his assumption. The two were quickly spending more time together than they were in anyone else’s company. The only person rivalling Merlin’s time was Gaius, who was always lost in his worlds of poultices and potions, anyway. As much as Merlin loved the man like he would have his own father, had he been around to know him, Merlin wished that there was someone else that he could talk to. Someone who was not an arrogant dollophead, or a father figure. Someone who could completely understand him, and accept him. Not that Gaius didn’t accept him, but Gaius also did not use the magic that he possessed, thus making it difficult for him to fully empathise with the young warlock. So, Merlin often found himself wishing for company, even if his heart fluttered in Arthur’s presence.

One of the activities that was tasked to Merlin as Arthur’s manservant was to dress the prince. Merlin could not fathom why the young man couldn’t dress himself. He was capable, was he not? On second thought, perhaps he wasn’t. Luckily enough, Arthur had not needed any special dressing arrangements thus far in their manservant and master relationship, so Merlin was spared the embarrassment of having to dress a grown man.

Until the day when he was required to.

“Merlin, I am just as pained as you are about this. It’s not as if I am filled with joy at the prospect of you dressing me like a child. But this outfit simply requires it. So get on with it, and hurry up.”

Arthur was always speaking to Merlin like this. Barely contained disdain, no respect, and a blatant disregard of Merlin altogether. At first Merlin had hated the way Arthur spoke to him, until he realised that Arthur spoke to everyone like that, and that Merlin, if anything, was spared the entire brutish force of Arthur.

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin replied docilely.

Arthur snapped his head in Merlin’s direction, his blonde hair swaying in his self created wind. “My lord,” he reprimanded.

Merlin inclined his head slightly. “My lord,” he replied. When Arthur turned his back to Merlin, Merlin rolled his eyes. He could not believe how self entitled Arthur was sometimes. Surely in his private chambers politeness and etiquette were not of utmost importance.

With a sigh, Merlin approached Arthur. Shrugging out of his white cheesecloth shirt, Arthur exposed his upper half to the world. Or, more specifically, to Merlin. Merlin was thankful that Arthur was not facing him. The redness of his cheeks would arouse suspicion in the prince, most definitely. Arthur thrust his arms backwards, in search of the armholes of his dress shirt. Merlin stepped forward, holding the navy blue shirt as close as he dared to Arthur’s body. Thankfully, Arthur’s arms slipped into the garment with ease, and his broad shoulders were soon covered with the material. Quickly enough, his arms were thrust backwards again for his jacket. Merlin held out the deep red coat, and eased Arthur’s arms into it without any touching on either’s behalf. After the coat was in place, Arthur spun around to face Merlin.

“I need you to fasten the ties, Merlin. Have you never dressed somebody before? I thought you were a manservant!”

In fact, Merlin had not dressed anyone before – well, except for himself. He didn’t come to Camelot to be manservant to an arrogant prince. That was simply a hiccup in the overall scheme of things. One he hoped would desist soon enough. He was beginning to tire of being treated like nothing.

Without a reply, Merlin stepped forward, and gingerly reached out his hands towards Arthur’s jacket. Arthur huffed, and stepped closer to Merlin, eliminating any and all space that had once existed between the two. Merlin kept his head down, so as to hide any trace of the effect that this proximity had on him. It shouldn’t have any effect at all, he thought to himself crossly. But, try as he might, Merlin could not quell whatever feeling was arising within him at this closeness to Arthur. Luckily his fingers did not betray his nervousness, and they deftly bound the ties of Arthur’s jacket together. When he reached the ties at the hollow of Arthur’s neck, he realised that the undershirt had disappeared into the depths of the jacket, and that the skin of Arthur’s neck was visible. He swallowed loudly.

“Is there something the matter, Merlin?” Arthur asked, impatience colouring his voice.

“No, my lord. Your shirt has simply fallen into the depths of your jacket.”

“Well, fish it out, then.”

Merlin nodded in reply. And then he hesitated slightly before delving his fingers into the depths of Arthur’s jacket. At first all he could feel was the scratchiness of the undershirt, and then all of a sudden, his fingertips were grazing Arthur’s bare skin. The skin of his chest. Merlin could have sworn that the heat from Arthurs’s skin travelled all the way to his cheeks when their touch was finally connected. Not wasting a moment, Merlin fished around for the shirt, tugging it up towards the jacket. All the while, his fingers grazed Arthur’s chest, and then the hollow of his neck. Merlin didn’t think he had imagined the fast beating pulse he could feel beneath the warm layers of Arthur’s skin.

With a speed Merlin hadn’t been aware he possessed, he tied the strings of Arthur’s jacket into efficient knots, and stepped backwards. Only to trip on some unseen object, and begin to fall backwards towards the hard stone floor of Arthur’s chambers. It was then that he felt strong arms slide behind him, and a hard chest press against his torso. Arthur’s arm across his back, and Arthur’s chest pressed against his own. Merlin looked at Arthur under the darkness of his lashes. The moment passed where the touching between the two was appropriate, and was quickly approaching personal. Merlin cleared his throat, and it seemed to break Arthur from his trance. Stepping backwards, Arthur pulled Merlin to his feet by anchoring him in place with two hands on Merlin’s waist. His hands lingered a moment, seemingly branding Merlin’s skin through his clothes, and stepped back.

“You may leave me, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded, at a loss for words. What just happened? He thought to himself, as he placed a shaky hand on the handle of the door. What is happening to me?