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Merlin flops back onto Arthur’s bed with a great sigh. “There’s no reason for it to be this hard.”
Gwaine looks up from where he’s poring over Merlin’s list of failed ideas. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What’s this about being hard?”
Merlin raises a single brow at him. “Why is pranking Arthur so hard?”
Gwaine at least has the decency to appear shamed at the correction, though he doesn’t feel it. “I can’t figure it out myself. It comes so naturally in the spur of the moment.”
“…But not when we plan ahead.”
“Look, we can always return to my original idea-”
“No! Under no circumstances are we doing that!”
“But it would be funny, wouldn’t it?”
The edges of Merlin’s lips twitch up almost imperceptibly, but Gwaine has spent enough time staring at them over the years to call his bluff. Merlin thinks it’s hilarious—as he should.
“Not when you’re his servant, it’s not. Do you have any idea how much work it would be to single-handedly remove a dozen chickens from his chambers, let alone one hundred? I’d be old and grey by the time I was finished.”
“Don’t worry your pretty head over it, I’m sure you’d make a fine silver fox. Plus, you’ll still have that charming personality of yours.”
“Gwaine, this is serious!”
Gwaine sets down his papers and levels Merlin with an amused look. “Which part? The part where we of all people are struggling to prank Arthur properly, or the part where we actually prank him?”
“He- he needs to be humbled once in a while! It’s for the good of the kingdom!”
“Know what would be good for the kingdom? A hundred chickens.”
“No, Gwaine.”
“…Two hundred?”
“I’ll stuff them all into your room if you mention them again.”
“Please, Merlin, have mercy,” he begs, affronted at the thought of his own prank turned against him. “You know I only tease you ‘cause I love you.”
Merlin’s face breaks into a smile at that, a massive grin as bright as the sun in Gwaine’s eyes. “You’re adorable,” he says, sitting himself upright on the bed.
Gwaine can feel Merlin’s eyes on him as he continues to peruse the list. When he looks back up again, Merlin is propped back on his elbows, features softened in fondness for his soon-to-be husband.
“Come here,” he finally decides, curling a finger out to draw Gwaine nearer.
Easily lured, Gwaine does as he’s asked, coming to stand in the gap of Merlin’s legs where they hang off of the bed. Before he has time to think, Merlin traps him between his thighs and pulls him down on top of him, only to roll them over so that he’s now straddling Gwaine’s hips, pinning his partner’s wrists to the bed.
“Ah!” Gwaine groans at this most harrowing defeat. “If only I’d seen that one coming!”
Merlin leans down to give him an affectionate peck on the tip of his sharp nose. “You let me win that time, didn’t you?”
Gwaine shrugs. “Maybe. Can you blame me?”
“No, not really,” he giggles.
A throat clears behind them, and the door creaks open to reveal a miffed, expectant Guinevere. Merlin and Gwaine part quickly, smoothing down their clothes, but the damage is already done.
Gwen points skeptically between the two of them, taking in the sight of their ruffled appearances. “Please tell me that the two of you were not just doing what I think you were.”
Gwaine’s cheeks flush. “We would never-”
“It’s not what it looks like!” Merlin tries at the same time.
“Yeah, we were just-“
“Wait, Gwaine, we can’t tell her that part!”
“Oh, right. Erm… We were just having sex. Nothing else.”
“Oh my god,” Merlin groans, palming his forehead. “I’m sorry, Gwen. We’re just trying to think of a way to prank Arthur.”
“Naturally… and straddling Gwaine on my bed is going to help how exactly?” she asks, her eyes pleading, desperate for any other explanation than the one she’s landed on.
“It was just a joke!” Merlin defends. “We were, you know, sparring. I tackled him and that’s how we ended up.”
Gwen’s mouth appears tightly pinched around the edges, but soon after smooths into a smile. “Right… Well, if that’s what it’s going to take for the two of you to come up with one simple prank, then surely you can take it to your own chambers.”
Before Merlin can apologize again, Gwaine interrupts. “Wait, you… don’t mind us pranking your husband?”
“Of course not,” Gwen assures them. “Arthur needs to be humbled once in a while. It’s for the good of the kingdom.”
A victorious glee enters Merlin’s eyes just as a great loss fills Gwaine’s. Never bet against Merlin. He should know better by now.
“So you wouldn’t be averse to helping us?” Merlin asks, his eyes round as a doe’s. “We’ll make it worth your while, I promise.” Gwen and Gwaine both know from experience that when those eyes make an appearance, Merlin will stick to his word—almost as though he’s taking a vow, except that it’s hardly ever for anything more important than this.
Gwen drops herself into the chair at Arthur’s desk and picks up a quill to twirl between her fingers. “What do you need my help for? You two usually do an excellent job of it on your own.”
Gwaine stands to his feet to pace before the hearth. “Usually, we do.”
“We just can’t seem to come up with anything good,” Merlin laments, flopping back on the bed again.
“I had a good idea, actually,” Gwaine pipes up.
“Love, if it were anyone else’s chambers, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
Gwaine puts a hand to his heart, eyes watering. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
The smile Merlin gives him can be described as nothing other than sappy. “Aw, come here, you.”
“No! Don’t listen to him,” Gwen commands, protective of her and Arthur’s sheets. “Focus on the prank.”
They separate once more. “Right.”
Gwen heaves a breath of relief, settling down to shuffle through the papers of what she will soon discover to be a rather shabby list of pranks, if her mind is anything like Gwaine’s. It’s not, but surely this is one thing they can agree on.
“Itching powder for his clothes?” she mumbles to herself. “Goodness, that would be dreadful if it got anywhere else… Lace his bath with a green dye? Haven’t you two already dyed his hair bright orange before?”
Gwaine hums in affirmation. “He still hasn’t forgiven us.”
Gwen licks her thumb and flips the page. “Bucket of water over the door would be fitting, but I can’t see you pulling it off without springing your own trap. Though I must give credit where it’s due: which of you is behind the bag of flour dumping on him after the water?”
Merlin is biting his lip against a modest smile at the compliment when, all of a sudden, Gwen’s eyes shoot back up to them, expression vexed. “…Chickens?”
Ah, she found the best one. “Imagine his face, Gwen,” Gwaine implores, coming ‘round the desk. “You know he’d hate it.”
She shakes her head. “Arthur and I have a history with chicken. We’ll save this one for when I need to prove a point to him.”
“Your wish is my command, m’lady.” He bows at the waist and shuffles back in a show of fealty.
“Thank you for that, Sir Gwaine. Step away from the bed.”
Dammit, it’s not his fault he’s a cuddler. Merlin will just have to wait for him.
“What do you want out of this, anyway?” he asks, putting her mind off of his close proximity to Merlin, who doesn’t look like he’s going to be moving from the bed any time soon. “Ask anything, we promise to pay it in full.”
Gwen pries her eyes gratefully from the list and takes a moment to ponder her payment. “Hmm, perhaps a nice evening out in the lower town?”
“Excellent!” Gwaine punctuates the exclamation with a loud clap, unintentionally startling Merlin. Merlin scowls at him, but Gwaine’s pretty sure he’ll live, and so continues with his vision. “We’ll have food, drinks, music… I know a lovely bard with the voice of a songbird and the thighs of a-”
“That’s it!” Merlin shouts, sitting upright and startling Gwaine in return. “I know exactly how we’re going to prank him.” He looks to Gwen, then, an intensity in his eyes as though they’re going into battle together. “But you’ll need to play your role well.”
_________________________________________
“…Go find me a drink that hits better than that!” the bard shrieks at the top of her lungs, and the crowd bursts into cheers and applause.
A tear slips from the corner of Arthur’s eye. He gestures for Merlin to top off his goblet, but when his servant comes close enough, he grabs the loose shoulder of his jacket to pull him down and whisper in his ear. “When does it end?”
Merlin smiles innocently down at him. “It doesn’t.”
Peggy strums her lute as she begins her next serenade.
“The lads call me Peggy
And for good reason, too
On their knees begging
T’ be the next one I do
Face in the pillows and legs all askew,
Those fellows come limping right back in a queue!”
“By God, I’ll take anything if it’s from you!” Gwaine shouts from somewhere unseen and, in a better world, unheard.
“Oh, isn’t she just splendid, Arthur?” Gwen praises from beside him, features painted in something like awe.
“Her… voice… is…” Arthur’s eyes crease at the corners. “…Lovely?”
“Oh, it really is! What a marvelous talent she has!”
“Have you finished eating your food, love? We should really return to our chambers…”
“Oh, of course. It is getting late, isn’t it?” Gwen acquiesces pleasantly. Arthur sighs in relief. Finally, some peace and quiet, alone with his beloved queen.
“Peggy, dear, I believe we’re going to be heading back to our chambers.”
“Oh, excellent! I’ll be right down!”
Wait… she can’t mean…
No.
No.
“Guinevere, she is not coming with us.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asks, a playful glint in her eye. “We already paid for the rest of the night and I, for one, would like to get my money’s worth.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’s a wonderful surprise, isn’t it? I knew you’d like it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to… you know, retire early for the rest of the evening? You seem tired.”
“I might have, had I not gotten a taste for her song! Perhaps we could hire her for our anniversary dinner, too…”
Arthur blanches. “Uh, there’s no need,” he tries, scratching the back of his head. “I’ve… already hired someone.”
“Ah. Your birthday, then.”
“Let’s just get back to our chambers.”
Unfortunately, what could have been a quiet walk through the halls, arm in arm with his wife, is made impossible by the sounds of a lute and a shrill, drunken voice.
“And I told him, good sir, you have no need to woo
I’ve slept with few men who are bigger than you!”
Arthur ushers Gwen into the room and slams the door shut behind him.
But to Arthur’s great surprise, Peggy knows how to open doors. He’d wrongly assumed that her skills were limited to singing bawdy tavern songs directly into her king’s ear.
With a heavy sigh, he unlocks the bottom right drawer of his desk and pulls out the only thing that can save him now.
“Arthur!” Gwen chastises. “That wine is more than two hundred years old.”
“It’s all we have in here,” he states, popping the cork.
“I reached in his cloak to find something to stroke
But with naught but a poke my hand pulled away soaked!”
Arthur puts the bottle to his lips and begins to chug.
That’s the last thing he remembers before the sunlight comes streaming in. His head rages at him in both anger and defeat, and his mouth is dry and puffy as wool. How much could he have drank last night?
A lute string is plucked, reverberating through the room.
“The morning right after might leave me an ache
But damn if that stranger left nothing to fake!
He came here to make my thighs quiver and quake
By night in his sheets yet awaked in a lake!
I hope for his sake that he gets what he takes
For he ate me out better than-”
“Merlin?”
“-dinner and cake. Good morning, sire. Thought I’d take a page out of Peggy’s book since you love her music so much.”
“Get out,” he demands, pulling his pillow over both of his ears. “Now.”
“Yes, sire.”
Once Merlin’s disappeared, Arthur scrambles for one of the bottles of wine on his bedside table. He has a new memory he needs to forget.
Gwen chooses that exact moment to wake up.
“Oh, good morning, Arthur! Has our entertainment left? I really was hoping for another of her tales.”
“You!” Arthur declares, pointing a finger at his wife. “You’ve been playing me all along!”
“Why, I can’t believe- I’d never- that you could even accuse me of such a- alright, yes, I did it.”
“Why? What must I have done to make you hate me so? Have I offended you in some way? Can you ever forgive me? Do you want me to sleep on the floor, or-”
“Arthur, dear, it was just a bit of fun. We thought it would be funny.”
“By ‘we’ I take it you mean yourself and Merlin?”
Gwen hesitates. “…Yes. Just us two.”
Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Who else?”
“Don’t tell him, Gwen!” Gwaine’s voice sounds from within the wardrobe.
Yeah, he should’ve seen that coming.
“I’m locking him in there,” he decides, lowering his voice.
“I suppose that’s only fair.”
“Perhaps I should lock Merlin in there with him.”
Gwen shudders. “Do not.”
Realization hits Arthur a minute too late. “Forget I said anything.”
A moment passes in silence, and then Gwen speaks. “No vengeance plan for me, then?”
“You’re already friends with those two. That’s punishment enough.”
“Gwaine can hear you.”
“Good.” He drags himself out from under the covers to make good on his threat to Gwaine, and then slinks back into the bed, cuddling up to Gwen.
Arthur smiles fondly as Gwen curls closer into him. She’s a warm, pleasant weight in his arms, and despite all of yesterday, she still manages to smell of fresh lilac. He tucks his nose into the hair at the top of her head and shuts his eyes as her soft, even breaths lull him back to sleep.
Even the sound of Gwaine begging to be let out can’t disturb him from his slumber in the early morning peace.