Chapter Text
The second time they met, Merlin noticed the fish hooks and was an utter nuisance about them.
“Why won’t you let me look?” he asked for the umpteenth time.
“Because I bloody said so ,” Arthur bit back. He tried swimming further into the lake only for Merlin to shuck his boots and wade in after him. This was ridiculous.
“You’re being ridiculous!” Merlin called out when Arthur swam beyond where the water came up to his waist. “They must hurt and besides if you leave them in they could get infected or something.”
Arthur stopped a stone’s throw away before looking back.
“When did you become such an expert?”
Merlin frowned and shrugged, letting his arms drop from the air. “Oh I don’t know, when a gigantic ass took up residence behind my house.”
They stared each other down for a moment. Arthur sighed and did his best to roll his eyes. Facial expressions were a bit tricky in fish form.
“Fine,” he said while swimming closer, stopping a hand’s space out of reach. “But one wrong move and I’ll drag you to the lakebed to drown.”
Totally unimpressed, Merlin took the few steps needed for a good look at Arthur’s face.
“No no, happy to help,” the man muttered. “Really, no thanks needed.”
He bent over and peered at the metal hooks piercing his mouth. Truth be told, the wounds did hurt. Even Merlin’s gentle inspection shot aches through Arthur’s jaw every time fingers brushed metal. But Arthur was a battle hardened warrior and as such didn’t flinch.
Somehow, maddeningly, Merlin managed to catch his discomfort anyways.
“Sorry,” he murmured, eyes flicking between Arthur’s and the hooks. “I can remove the barbs and they should slide right out.”
“No magic,” Arthur cut in.
“Arthur-”
“ No magic. ”
“Fine,” said Merlin. “I’ll just rip them out shall I? Or try and force the eyelets through? Some of these are barbed on both ends.”
A second tense silence stretched between them. Merlin shrugged. With one hand, he cupped the underside of Arthur’s head, getting hold of a hook in his upper lip with the other. What came next were many frustrated attempts to budge the hook in any direction. Each tug strengthened pain caused by the last and lips like shredded paper became a worryingly real possibility to Arthur.
“Ow! Alright, alright!” Arthur cried after he jerked unconsciously, making Merlin wrench the hook. He could taste blood and decided this was no longer just a concern over vanity.
“You may use a little magic,” he allowed with autocratic fashion.
“A little magic.”
“A little magic,” Arthur said. He held himself as far out the water as he could, affecting confidence. Or at least he thought so. Merlin was somehow impervious to the graces of good breeding since he only shook his head in frustration.
"Magic can be good, you know," he murmured after a time, head bowed over his work. A somber, resigned quality laced Merlin's words as if Arthur was the unreasonable one. Like his life hadn't been completely upheaved in an instance by some soggy creep with more power than anyone should have. What the hell was a sea bishop, anyways?
"I'll believe it when I see it," the prince grunted.
Merlin straightened and stretched with both hands bracing the small of his back. He leaned forward and waved a handful of hooks for Arthur to see. Arthur stared in disbelief. He hadn't felt a thing. The taste of blood was gone from the water, too.
"I'll show you sometime," Merlin said.
“Brought you a surprise,” greeted Merlin that next morning. It was early, with the weakest rays of light pushing color into the sky. He plopped down a foot from the lake and sat legs crossed.
In his lap, Merlin unfolded a small linen bundle from which he pulled cheese, bread, and an apple. He laid it all out on the grass between them for Arthur to inspect. The prince did so, swimming closer and pitching up to angle his head out of the water.
“Is this it?” he asked flat out.
“Is this it?” Merlin scoffed, sweeping the apple up and waggling it. “Does fruit just grow on trees where you’re from- No don’t give me that look, you know what I mean.” He put his thumbs inside the well at its top and ripped the apple in half. Placing one in the water before Arthur and taking a bite of the other he continued.
“There aren’t any orchards here or in the villages nearby, so you have to wait until someone from two villagers over decides they want to trade for stuff here or make the half a day’s walk there yourself .”
“No one’s thought to grow a tree themselves?” Arthur asked, eyeing the motes of cheese Merlin was sending into the water. “Are these for me?”
Merlin nodded. “Yeah, I figured you could do with some proper food. Can’t imagine whatever it is fish eat tastes any good.” He made a face. “And Odo has an apple tree, but he’s getting on in years and can’t farm as much, so he saves them for market.”
Merlin went on to recount the different types of trouble he and Will had gotten into by stealing pastries while their parents were selling goods, or how he’d bury his favorite foods as a kid thinking he could magic them into crops. Arthur would have teased him for it, but he was only half listening. Most of his attention was fixed to the cheese and apple bobbing in the water.
As prince, fruit was almost more a decoration than food. Bowls of pears or apricots were ever present in his chambers though he rarely ate from them. That their mere presence and not abundance was one luxury afforded by his status hadn’t occurred to him. He hadn’t really thought about it at all.
Now he was staring at half a bruised apple feeling it was the single kindest gift he’d ever been given. Back in Camelot Arthur was always in the position to give or pardon. His father had taught him that their wealth and power served in bartering for the loyalty of their subjects. Even the king's most charitable acts were transactional. Entirely unwittingly, Merlin had returned a semblance of dignity to Arthur without demand. Being the recipient of someone else's generosity, unmotivated generosity, made Arthur squirm. It brought a swell of humility through him, tinged with a dozen other unnamable emotions. He opted for chomping at the apple rather than trying to understand it.
The fruit wasn’t as sweet as the honeyed or baked dishes he was used to, but it beat grime caked bugs handedly.
"Strawberries were always my favorite," Arthur found himself saying when the conversation lulled.
Merlin's expression brightened.
"There’s heaps of them in the forest this time of year." He held a piece of bread above the water, offering it along with an easy smile. "I'll bring some next time."
Merlin forgot to bring strawberries the next few days, though Arthur didn’t really mind. He’d ask and complain about the lack of them just to see how emotions played on the man's face. Camelot’s court was populated by stuffy, severe toadies with all the humor of a stubbed toe. Arthur’s knights were jovial but also competitive and boastful. As such, he’d never met anyone so animated with sincerity as Merlin.
The opportunities to tease him proved well worth waiting a bit longer for some berries. And when Merlin brought a glut of them using the front of his tunic as a basket, they tasted all the sweeter for his stupid smug smile.