Thread: Don't Lose Your Head Over It: A Merlin RP (SevenxKawa)

There was nothing exceptional about the day as Merlin had come to realize, his life in Camelot had the tendency of fluctuating between being mind-numblingly dull and utterly terrifying, separated only by moments of high velocity rotten fruit. Of course, he hadn't actually been strapped into the Pillory for a while now - in fact, it had been a few weeks, so he was on something of a winning streak when it came to that. He wasn't sure it was something he should be so pleased about, but the warlock had the tendency of clinging to every sunny spot of optimism he encountered. The winning streak ended in every way, however, when Arthur presented him with the mascot's uniform. Again. You'll wear it tonight, Arthur confirmed as his servant grimaced at the sight of it the prince barely suppressed a smirk, At my wake. Merlin's head jerked up, along with his eyebrows, At your what? Merlin asked, eyebrows dipping in the opposite direction, But you aren't dead. Your observational skills remain unmatched. Arthur said, rolling his head back to look down his nose at Merlin, Father insisted on a banquet - make sure everyone knows the bloodline is strong and all, but really, everyone there will be thinking the same thing - that I should be dead. Merlin unconsciously hugged the uniform to his chest, but said nothing any other servant, Arthur noted, would have jabbered about how it wasn't true, that he would have survived and the people of the kingdom had faith he would pull through, but Merlin didn't try it. Most of the time he was a complete fool, but Arthur knew that at the very least he could rely on him for the truth - and Merlin was a terrible liar anyways, he stuttered and turned the colour of his father's cape. Again, the prince watched Merlin with that strange, thoughtful expression, but the silence stretched on for too long, and Arthur finally lifted a shoulder and shrugged his face, But I'm not. he finished, turning away from Merlin now, walking for the doorway and sticking an index finger up into the air, I expect you to wear the hat this time, too. No taking it off because you saw a pretty girl, Merlin. This is a matter of celebration, life and death. Arthur left the warlock standing in the hallway with the pile of crimson material, Right, Merlin said, and looked down miserably at the uniform, Life or death. He spent most of the evening trying to keep the feathers out of his face the aggressively crimson glengarry had been adorned with a mass of red and green plumes that tilted into his nose and eyes every time he moved and left him twisting his face and sneezing. At one point the feather tipped into the side of his neck and caused the warlock to jerk so hard that he spilled some of the wine he had been pouring. What are you doing? Arthur asked sharply, raising his hands up as though the droplets of wine were a flood threatening Camelot, Clean this up, servant. Arthur put on a good show he could never have his subjects thinking he might like his manservant just a little. It was the Pendragon way - somewhere in their history they had decided that emotion was something that happened to others, and their bloodline would have no part of it. Or at least, that was what they conveyed to the people - Merlin knew better, having seen both of the Pendragons in particularly vulnerable states, and that included the King. The King, who wouldn't show love for his only son unless Arthur couldn't actually see it that type of aloofness was strange to Merlin, who had been raised on cuddles from his mum, who had called him her special boy - but he wasn't about to mention it. And besides, he wasn't so sure the King ever got cuddles as a child, though he could have probably used them. He didn't move fast enough to clean up the wine, because Arthur took hold of his wrist and used the warlock's sleeve to absorb the alcohol, leaving the fabric sticking to his arm. Enjoy your drink, Arthur crowed, and laughed with his knights, giving Merlin what he was sure was meant to be a jovial whack on the back, but wound up being so forceful that it drove him forward a few inches and knocked his hat askew as he was turning to walk away. Staggering for a moment, Merlin stopped to straighten up, and as he stood there fussily re-arranging the hat, he felt a strange tingle at the back of his neck - for reasons he couldn't explain, he turned slowly on the spot, hands still holding up the plumes, and his eyes fixed directly onto the other side of the room. The King was looking at him. No, in fact, the King was staring at him - there was no emotion that the warlock could associate with the man's expression right then, but the very fact that those eyes were fixed on him was cause for him to nearly swallow his tongue. Slowly, Merlin's hands moved away from the hat, away from his face, and dropped down to his sides as he looked directly into the eyes of the man who would kill him in an instant if he only knew the truth. And then, of course, he realized he was doing it and snapped his head off to the side, looking over at a wall and trying to seem casual but failing miserably as his eyes made to go in the opposite direction as the rest of him. He half-turned his head back to Uther two more times before finally pulling his gaze away, fighting down the cold chill that was creeping along the surface of his skin. He tried to busy himself, tending to guests. Why was the king looking at him? As far as Merlin knew, he hadn't done anything wrong - at least, he hadn't done anything wrong for a few days. Well, except the bit of magic he'd used yesterday to get a book down from a high shelf, since that sort of thing would get him killed if anyone had seen it, so that was sort of a wrongdoing by Camelot standards - but the King couldn't have seen that. No, Merlin told himself everything was fine, the King probably wasn't even actually looking at him, he decided. He was probably - staring off at something else, lost in thought the way he tended to do, and that was all. He hadn't seen anything, didn't suspect anything - everything was fine. The King wasn't looking at him. The King definitely wasn't looking at him. In fact, he would bet that if he looked again, Uther would be staring at the same point on the wall, focusing intensely on it. Yes, that was it. Merlin smiled to himself, abusing his optimism for all it was worth, and he looked back up at the head table, and the smile froze in place, and faltered very slightly at the corners. The plumes of his hat made a long, slow journey down to his cheekbone again, and Merlin gave one absent-minded breath to knock them away.