Author's Note: This is my first Merlin/Arthur fic, so I hope you like it. Just a short oneshot that was supposed to be a kissy drabble and morphed into more....*sigh. I'm always making things more complicated than they need to be.

It was all Morgana's fault.

When delivering the drought she took nightly to try and ward off her prophetic dreams, Merlin had noticed the King's ward seemed a little more curt than usual. Even Gwen seemed to notice, because she was the one who commented on Morgana's snappishness.

"Morgana!" she chastised. Gwen was one of the only people in the kingdom who were able to use such a tone with her without ending up in the stocks. "What has you in such a foul mood this morning?"

Morgana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her long raven tresses as she did. "It was nothing, just a dream," she sighed.

"What kind of dream?" Merlin asked, perking up. He knew from experience that most of Morgana's dreams weren't dreams at all, but visions of the future. Apparently whatever she'd seen the night before had disturbed her. If there was something Merlin could do to help her, he would.

"It was…an erotic dream," she replied with a brilliant flush and then shook her head and shooed him away. "It was nothing. Let's just pretend I never said anything," she suggested. "Besides, it's completely ridiculous and I shouldn't have allowed it to dictate my mood. I'm sorry for being rude to you, Merlin."

Merlin merely blinked in response, shot a questioning glance at Gwen and fled the room. He had no desire to hear anymore about Morgana's sexual fantasies. That would just be…awkward.

He went to see Gaius, who gave him a number of tasks to occupy his time, and Merlin thought he was free of the uncomfortable conversation until Gwen caught up with him while he was tracking down ingredients. He soon realized that his relief was thwarted.

He knew something was off the moment he saw the woman grinning so broadly. "What is it?" he asked in an impatient tone.

"I know what Morgana dreamed about," she teased, her voice like a mocking songbird.

"Then keep it to yourself. I'm sure Lady Morgana wouldn't want me to know," Merlin replied hastily.

"Probably not, but I think you should know," Gwen said, her grin growing impossibly wider.

"You're not going to let up until I know, will you?" he asked, wondering if there was an incantation he could use to get the girl to forget the whole thing.

"It's doubtful," she admitted. "Besides, it's about you."

"Me!" Merlin balked. "Morgana's having sexual dreams about…me?"

"Well, in a way, yes," Gwen answered with a delicate laugh. "About you and Arthur."

Merlin sputtered and was thankful he hadn't been eating or drinking at the time, because he would have surely choked. "Me and…Arthur?" he squeaked.

"How specific would you like me to get?" Gwen asked, leaning in as if she was about the recount the entire dream in a whisper against his ear.

"Uhg! No, I don't want to know any of it! I wished I didn't know what I already do!" Merlin shouted, covering his ears as if it would erase what he'd already learned.

"It's only a dream, Merlin," Gwen pouted. "You don't have to be so uptight."

"I know!" he replied too loudly. He only wished Gwen knew how wrong she was about that, because then perhaps his friend would be as worried as he was. "It's just…how am I supposed to look at Arthur now!"

"What? You mean, now that you know Morgana's dreamed about you both naked in a bathtub, scrubbing one another…vigorously?" she added with a wink.

"Arg! You interfering wench!" he cursed and clutched at his hair. "You've ruined me!"

"Calm down, Merlin," she laughed. "It's not as if it could ever happen. Arthur's the crowned price and you're just his servant. Besides, it's not as if you bathe him anyway. He never allows his servants to help him with that."

Merlin sighed and tried to relax like Gwen said. Not everything Morgana dreamed had come to fruition after all. He took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the ground for a long moment, quieting his brain as it screamed at him to flee. The only thing that did the trick was the fact that Merlin knew how impossible it all was. Not because of his status against Arthur's – although that was a weighty issue as well – but because Arthur was only his friend. He didn't feel the slightest bit romantically inclined toward the arrogant prince.

Whatever Morgana had thought she dreamed, she must have been mistaken.

"You've done this hundreds of times, Merlin," Arthur huffed. "What's so different about today?"

"Er, sorry, Sire," Merlin replied as he tightened the fastenings on the prince's breeches. "Just a bit…distracted I guess," he added lamely.

"Well, you'd best get undistracted," Arthur warned. "If you keep this up, I'll end up with my armor on backwards."

Merlin worked harder at trying to concentrate on Arthur's mail and gloves instead of the flat plains of his torso or the subtle curve of his arse. Sweat was already beginning to form on his brow, and he could feel Arthur's curious gaze on his neck as he lowered himself to lace up the prince's boots.

This was madness. Ever since he'd walked into the room to suit his master up for the day's training, Merlin couldn't seem to think of anything but the brief description of the dream Gwen had related. Suddenly all Merlin could notice were the way Arthur's tunic hugged his broad shoulders or the way that same tunic dipped low enough to reveal a patch of blond chest hair. The worst, however, was when Merlin had noticed the man's lips.

A shiver ran through Merlin as he stared at the perfect, pink bow of Arthur's mouth, made only more kissable when the prince pursed them in annoyance. "Merlin! Would you pay attention to what you're doing?" he ordered, and Merlin looked down to see that he'd been trying to strap Arthur's gantlets onto the opposite arms.

"Sorry," he apologized hastily and decided he'd better focus or else the only thing he'd be kissing would be the rotten vegetables the town folk would hurl at his head. Not that he wanted to kiss Arthur. Not at all.

Stupid Morgana and her stupid dreams; she had his mind all fuzzy with impossibilities.

Finally, Arthur was ready to set out and though it had taken Merlin three times longer to dress him than it normally would, Arthur didn't say another word about it and for that, Merlin was grateful. He was also grateful to have the man out of his sight for a while. He needed time to regroup and perhaps dip his head in a bucket of icy water.

"What happened?!" Merlin shouted over the din of armored men clanking their way through the halls. Four of them hefted Arthur on their shoulders, and the man was obviously wounded. It didn't look too severe, but Merlin found himself frantic at the sight of blood on his prince. It seemed a blade had pierced his arm through the mail.

"Would you fools put me down," Arthur grumbled. "My arm is hurt, not my legs!"

"Gaius said not to move at all," one of the knights replied. "We're only following orders, Sire."

"And which orders do you intend to listen to? Those of the physician, or those of your prince?" he snapped.

The men all hesitated at that, but Merlin came up next to him and smoothed a streak of grit from the man's cheek. Arthur stilled and glanced at his friend and servant, holding his gaze for a long time. "Be reasonable, Arthur," Merlin said at last. "Just let them take you upstairs and we'll get you mended."

Arthur opened his mouth, to argue no doubt, but he snapped it shut in the next moment and nodded. "Fine. Take back corridors so no one sees me at least," he advised. "I don't need rumors of this to fly around Camelot or else soon people will start hearing that I'm dead."

The knights changed direction and started lugging their captain through different paths, remaining virtually unseen. At some point, they must have jostled Arthur's injury, because the prince clutched Merlin's hand and hissed in pain. "We're almost there," Merlin whispered reassuringly as they all climbed the stairs to the prince's bedchambers. Arthur nodded, but he didn't let go of Merlin's hand until the knights had him propped up in bed.

"I'll let Gaius know you're ready for him," Merlin said after the rest had left. He wanted to fetch help for the prince, but more than that, he wanted to get away from the man's penetrating gaze. Those blue eyes suddenly looked different to Merlin, somehow weightier.

"Stay," Arthur replied. "I'll need some help cleaning up before he gets here."

"Right," Merlin replied, his mouth going dry. No matter how many times he swallowed, he still felt like his mouth was filled with rough cotton. He moved toward the basin by the window, but Arthur's low laugh halted him.

"You'll have to help me undress first," Arthur noted. Merlin kept his body turned away and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to try and still his shaking hands. It was no use, though. Even as he started unfastening the armor and mail, his hands still shook like leaves in a strong breeze. "Are you alright, Merlin?"

"Fine," the warlock muttered. "Splendid, why?"

"You seem, nervous," Arthur replied, his sharp blond eyebrow arched in question.

"Me, nervous?" Merlin asked and forced a laugh. "That's just ridiculous."

Arthur merely shrugged in reply, but the movement apparently hurt him and he winced. Merlin was clutching the man's bare chest before he knew what he was doing, staring blearily into those bright blue eyes. "Are you alright? I should fetch Gaius. He can clean the wound before treating it."

"No," Arthur barked, before softening his voice at once. "He'll need to dress it and he can't do that until after I've bathed."

"Bathed," Merlin repeated.

"Yes," Arthur whispered. "Bathed. Now, can you help me wriggle out of these trousers?"

Merlin could only stand there dumbly, with the realization that he was about to see the crowned prince completely nude. Typically when Merlin dressed him, Arthur was wearing something when he arrived. His fingers wandered to the lacings of their own accord, but Arthur stopped him with a strong hand. "It might be more helpful if you removed the boots first," he suggested with a subtle smile.

Merlin flushed and went immediately to his knees, watching as Arthur fell backwards to the mattress, showing off the perfect planes of his muscular torso. Merlin's eyes flashed gold and one of the boots nearly tore straight off of Arthur's foot. "Shit," he muttered and threw the boot toward his bag. He'd have to mend it when he got home and bring it back in the morning before Arthur noticed.

He took his time with the next one, trying to figure out a way out of bathing the prince. He didn't think he would be able to look upon the man in all his naked glory without attacking him and fulfilling Morgana's unknowing prediction. "Perhaps you'd like to have Gwen bathe you, or Morgana," Merlin suggested with a waggling brow.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Could you imagine how quickly Morgana's head would spin if I even so much as mentioned that? No, I'd prefer it was you," he added, and Merlin didn't think he was imagining that Arthur's voice had gone husky and deep.

Merlin swallowed thickly and got to his feet in the same moment Arthur did. The top lace of his breeches was already undone from Merlin's previous work, and it was impossible for him to look away from the thick tuft of dark blond curls peeking out, or the large bulge beneath the remaining fabric.

He let out a shuddering breath and reached for the other laces, slowly undoing them to reveal an expanse of pale flesh and then Merlin was staring at the wonder that was the royal cock. Well, a royal cock anyhow, and suddenly there was nothing he wanted more than to place his lips to it. He looked up to see Arthur staring down at his hands, seemingly transfixed by the sight of them near his erection. When Arthur's gaze lifted and locked onto Merlin's he didn't think he would be able to breathe again.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered in an almost reverent tone. "Why have I never noticed how lovely your eyes are?"

They flashed golden at the sound, eliciting a gasp from Arthur as his breeches fell away from his legs with a tear. "Sorry," Merlin muttered, panic filling his eyes.

He turned to rush out, but Arthur stilled him with his good arm around Merlin's waist. Merlin watched him expectantly, waiting for the damning words that would send him to the stocks – or worse – but Arthur remained silent, studying Merlin's every minute movement as if he were a work of art.

"Magic," he whispered at last, but Merlin only shook his head.

"No, you're mistaken," he said lamely, but he knew it was only too obvious that he was lying. It was not as if Arthur hadn't seen his eyes change or felt the leather ripping from his milky thighs.

"I know magic when I see it," Arthur sighed and pulled Merlin to him so that his infuriatingly clothed body was pressed flat against Arthur's very naked one.

"Are you going to have me killed?" Merlin sighed, already imagining Gaius' disappointed face as they led him to the courtyard to be burned. "I can't help it," Merlin told him. "I was born this way. I've only used it to try and help you and your father."

"You know it's illegal," Arthur said, but his breath was coming in shallow gasps. Merlin's heart was racing for a whole new reason, knowing he was as good as dead now.

"The king is wrong about magic. Not all of it is bad, not all of it is evil," Merlin explained, his voice soft and frantic.

"I believe you," Arthur promised. "It explains so much, really, and I could never let my father execute you."

"Really?" Merlin asked, his expression showing the confusion he felt.

"Did you really think that I could turn you over to him? After all we've been through together?" Arthur asked, his fingers digging harshly into Merlin's side.

"But your father," Merlin protested, interrupted by his prince's intent gaze.

"My father doesn't need to know about this either," Arthur said, and in the next moment, Merlin felt the heat of Arthur's pliant lips against his own. They were dry and chapped until Merlin swiped his tongue out to moisten them, a boldness he regretted until he heard Arthur moan.

Tongue and teeth clashed for dominance, but only for an instant before Arthur tipped Merlin's head back and began sucking a line down the warlock's neck. Merlin's eyes fell closed at the sensation; his dark lashes fluttering like fairy wings. "My prince," he sighed, lost in the other man's touch.

"My Merlin," Arthur purred in his gravelly tone, as he began tugging at Merlin's tunic. The slighter man allowed Arthur to undress him, helping only to toe out of his own shoes and before he knew it, they were pressed against one another - hot flesh to hot flesh - and Merlin made a low, lusty sound in his throat as their erections rutted together.

Again their lips caught with bruising pressure, and Merlin melted into the feeling of Arthur's probing tongue and nibbling teeth. In the back of Merlin's mind, he could hear a voice warning him to stop this foolishness – and strangely enough it sounded like the dragon he often visited in the bowels of the castle. His destiny was to help Arthur, not help Arthur out of his breeches and into his arms…and Merlin would be lying to himself if he said he wanted to stop at this heated embrace.

Hands roamed over bare skin and whispers of hair as the men kissed, unable to break apart until Arthur leapt back with a howl, clutching his injured arm. "Let me see," Merlin insisted and pried the stubborn prince's hand away from the wound.

The sword had pierced his flesh and removed a slice of his shoulder. It was a wonder Arthur wasn't bleeding more, but the state of his coverlet and tunic indicated that he might have already bled as much as he could from the cut. It had already begun drying out, but it was clearly painful if Arthur let Merlin see him wince.

Merlin placed his hands over the spot and stared intently, as if he could see through his hands to the wound itself. "Caer sor Shyl," he whispered, trying to ignore Arthur's curious gaze.

The prince gasped and Merlin pulled his hands away, fearing he'd somehow made it worse. He found it to be quite the contrary, however. As he watched, the skin began to knit back together, leaving only a pale, pink scar.

"Miraculous," Arthur breathed, staring down at his healed arm. "You're very powerful, aren't you, Merlin?"

"I do alright," he replied, flushing slightly.

"Let's fill the bath," Arthur whispered.

"You're well enough to wash yourself now," Merlin pointed out with a cheeky grin.

"Yes," Arthur agreed with a nod. "But that was never really why I wanted you to do it."

"You're a trickster, hm?" Merlin asked, stalking up to the prince and gliding his hands over all that perfect flesh.

"I might have even orchestrated this whole thing," Arthur mused. "Princes are very clever, you know?"

"You mean you allowed yourself to be struck by that sword?" Merlin gasped, narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

"When have I ever taken a blow like that from one of my men?" Arthur laughed arrogantly.

"Why would you do something like that?!" Merlin demanded.

"After seeing the way you were staring at me this morning, I couldn't think of any other way to get you alone and naked in my bedchamber," Arthur purred.

"You're a royal prat," Merlin spat teasingly.

"So you've mentioned," Arthur muttered before grabbing Merlin's waist and pulling him into another crushing kiss. "Just so long as I'm your royal prat."

"Destiny is a funny thing," Merlin mused with a grin, nibbling at Arthur's jaw as the prince led him toward the bath.

"Pardon?" Arthur asked distractedly.

"Nothing, Sire," Merlin answered and knelt down to further distract his prince.

Author's Note: I might do a sequel, and I never say that, so I might actually do it.... *grin