Spoilers up to "The Poisoned Chalice". Merlin/Arthur.

Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Merlin or any of its characters, and I make no profit with this.

The Art of Having Fun

Before he met Arthur, Merlin would never have thought that he could be better at entertaining himself than a prince.

It didn't make sense. There wasn't much entertainment to be had back in Ealdor; you just didn't have the time for it, or if you had the time, you didn't have the energy, and, in any case, the means. He could read and write, but there weren't exactly many books around. And there were the feasts, once every season, where you mostly met the same people you saw every day and did the same things you did three months ago. Of course, despite his mother's fearful looks, which were far more effective than any threats or rewards, he cheated at his chores and made time: it came so naturally to him to use magic, he couldn't help it; and he and Will made their own entertainment, and it wasn't that the feasts weren't fun; only, he would have expected royalty, with its much greater and more varied feasts, and its banquets, and bards and jesters and courtiers and he didn't even know what else, to be more creative about it.

Not Arthur. Arthur, it turned out, was absolute rubbish at it. And there were feasts and banquets and Arthur hated most of them, and even when he didn't, he didn't attend them for the fun of it. There was, as a matter of fact, very little Arthur did for the fun of it; there was the hunting, of course, which in Merlin's opinion was a downright demented way to have fun (if, like Merlin had naively thought once, you actually chased after the prey at any point, he might have understood; but the careful creeping through often thorny bushes when you had perfectly fine food back home? made no sense whatsoever), and even that Arthur did partly because he knew the trophies he brought back pleased his father. He had a vague suspicion that Arthur enjoyed the fighting, but that he did for practical reasons even more clearly. Merlin figured the frequent arguments with the Lady Morgana constituted a twisted kind of fun – it was certainly the most Arthur seemed to get out of most banquets – but that only went to prove what he was already beginning to suspect, which was that Arthur had never really learned that you could have fun without being a jerk.

Now that he knew him better, Merlin could think of a lot of reasons – not justifications, mind – as to why Arthur had acted the way he did during their first meeting. Arthur had learned that he was a prince since birth, with everything that entailed, which was that he was to serve and protect his people, and that in return, he completely deserved utter subservience; that if he was supposed to be perfect at everything he did, and to be put down for failing, there was no reason not to expect and do the same to everyone else; that his being a prince was not so secure that he needn't show it off as often as possible; and it was no surprise the constant pressure made him lash out mindlessly.

All these were good reasons, and there were more Merlin was only just discovering, yet he couldn't help thinking that the real reason Arthur had been throwing knives at a servant and chased him through half the market place was that he absolutely sucked at finding sane entertainment.

So Merlin, being a devoted manservant, the person whose destiny it was to help the prince become a slightly less prattish king, and Arthur's friend, thought he should do something about that.

He succeeded, without even trying, just by being himself, to a certain degree: from a certain point of view, putting him into ridiculous clothes was relatively harmless, and it was the most fun Merlin had ever seen Arthur have without killing anything. He guessed that being completely unnecessarily amused at him ending up in the stocks – Merlin liked to think that if Arthur never followed up his own threats to this effect, it was because he wasn't that much of a prat and actually his friend, but occasionally he wondered if it wasn't just because that would kill the surprise and thus half of the fun – or idly watching him struggle with his hunting dogs despite the fact that if he, Arthur, would only concede to help he wouldn't be struggling, were all relatively harmless as well, and a step into the right direction. Still, it wasn't quite what he'd had in mind.

Then, one afternoon, Merlin distractedly listened to Arthur rant about Morgana; there had been an argument, and serious arguments with Morgana often left Arthur as on the edge as disagreements with his father. Merlin was folding the fresh laundry, and not paying much attention, when Arthur mentioned something about her cheating at chess. Merlin was vaguely aware that he was talking about a particular instance that had happened something like ten years ago – once he started to complain about Morgana, he could keep going for a while – but that wasn't really important.

"You can play chess?" he asked, interrupting the prince's rant.

Arthur stopped mid-sentence and turned around on his chair to look at him with a frown; Merlin dropped the shirt he was holding onto the bed.

"I'm royalty, of course I can play chess." He looked him up and down. "I'm surprised you even know what chess is."

Merlin decided not to point out that this made Arthur ranting about it to him rather pointless; he had something else on his mind.

"You could teach me," he said.

"What? Chess?" Arthur looked even more bewildered, insultingly so. "To you?"

"Yes," Merlin snapped, through grit teeth; he was beginning to lose his patience. "You don't have to be royalty to play, do you?"

"You've got to have a brain," Arthur answered. "Are you still not finished with this?" He gestured at the laundry.

Merlin made a face at him, and gave him a Look.

"I'm sorry, sire, if I can't just tidy up by snapping my fingers..." He trailed off at the last words; he couldn't tidy up by snapping his fingers, but it was still a bad choice of words. And wasn't Arthur looking at him oddly all the sudden? "Er, never mind. I'll just. Finish."

"No." Arthur stood up and approached him, and his anger seemed gone. "Do it later." He wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You gave me an idea."

Merlin let himself be guided to the door, and gave Arthur a worried side-glance. That didn't bode too well.

"I have a lot of work to do, you know..."

"You don't if I say you don't. And I think I am going to teach you something new."

"Not chess?" Merlin guessed, with a sinking feeling.

Arthur grinned at him brightly and ruffled his hair. At last he was in a better mood now.

"Have you ever fought with a quarterstaff?"

Merlin groaned.

"I could teach you," Gwen said later when he told her about it, after Gaius had given him a salve for his bruises and he'd rested for an hour.

She was putting the flowers that were spread out before her into a bouquet with quick, dexterous fingers: they were bringing in the harvest in the nearest villages, she said, and the flowers at the edge would go with it, so she'd picked as many as she could; it always pleased her lady. Merlin stood there, watching, and felt a little weird for not having known the exact day of the harvest. He hoped his village was alright.

"Really? That would be great!" he answered.

Gwen put a bit of string around her bouquet, bit it off, and looked the result over.

"The lady Morgana taught me to," she explained. "I'm not very good, but I can show you the basics."

Merlin nodded eagerly.

"Is it very difficult?" he asked; he felt that getting Arthur to play once he already knew how to would be easier, but he didn't want to prove him right about his derision at the idea.

Gwen shrugged.

"The moves aren't hard; the strategy is trickier, but I'm sure you'll be alright. Er. Not that I think you can't manage something that is difficult..."

"It's alright," he interrupted quickly, and beamed at her. "Thank you Gwen."

She held up the finished bouquet and smiled back.

It was about two weeks later that Merlin found an occasion to put his new-found knowledge to use.

Arthur was in a mood. He had a minor injury from training and had to spend the day resting; and on top of that, his father had scolded him for his carelessness. The other servants had cleared away, finding ways to busy themselves so they'd have a good excuse to be as far away from the prince's chambers as possible, leaving Merlin to fend for himself alone – it was probably better that way anyway.

Apparently, the prince found that a good way to spend the forced rest was to have Merlin rearrange his furniture, fetch various things from all around the castle and then complain about him taking too long, and mess up things to have him clean them up.

The latest object Arthur had demanded was a small target with assorted throwing knifes. Merlin had come across this before: Arthur, sitting down, would hit the target every time – the short distance that was possible within the room presented no challenge whatsoever for him – and send Merlin to retrieve them, all the while being unsatisfied with the whole exercise. Merlin had no desire to repeat that experience, so he returned with a chessboard instead.

"Merlin," Arthur said slowly, looking down at the board Merlin was carefully depositing on the table in front of him. "Do you actually have a mental affliction? This isn't what I told you to get!"

"I know," Merlin snapped back, even while laying down the chess pieces. "But I've been pandering to your ridiculous demands all morning, I figured maybe we could do something where I can sit down too."

Arthur frowned at him and seemed about to tell him off, but then he got a good look at him, and his eyes softened. Merlin glanced back; he didn't have to make an effort to look exhausted and frustrated.

"I learnt to play," Merlin added.

"You're the worst servant I've ever had," Arthur finally declared, and pulled the board closer.

Merlin smiled in relief, and sat down across off him.

"Yes sire," he acknowledged cheerfully. "Red or white?"

"You take white," Arthur said with an arrogant hand-gesture to suggest "you'll need the small advantage!" Merlin rolled his eyes but didn't argue, and began placing the pieces.

"Where'd you get the board?" Arthur asked absently, when he had finished his side.

"Gwen," Merlin lied quickly; technically Morgana, but this was less likely to make Arthur feel like they were ganging up on him. "She's the one who taught me to play."

Arthur made a face like he wanted to say something derisive, but couldn't think of anything; he rarely found anything to complain about when it came to Gwen, and Merlin didn't think it was just because it'd make Morgana furious if he did.

Merlin opened the game.

"I knew you'd be horrible," Arthur declared after he'd won a little while later, leaning back on his furred chair with a satisfied smile.

Personally, Merlin found that considering that Arthur had been playing ten years ago and he'd just learned in the little free time his job left him with for two weeks, he hadn't fared too bad, but he'd been expecting such a comment and just shrugged. Arthur watched him as he replaced the pieces, this time the red ones on his side, making no move to help, but leant forward and opened the game when he'd finished.

"I hadn't played for a while," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Why not?" Merlin asked, pushing a pawn forward; Arthur was, judging by the first game, an aggressive and not excessively careful player (though the later could only be due to him not feeling he had to be, facing a beginner); there was no reason why he shouldn't be able to win, eventually.

"I don't know." The prince shrugged, and brought a knight forward. "It just. I won all the time, against the courtiers."

Merlin looked up, confused for a moment before he understood.

"They let you win?"

Arthur shrugged.

"Probably. Not all of them, but once I couldn't be sure..."

"What about Morgana. Or," Merlin paused briefly. "Your father?"

Arthur just shook his head, even as he took his first piece.

"Morgana is insufferable," he declared.

Merlin didn't answer; maybe that was it. As much as Arthur was exaggerating and really cared for her a great deal, and she for him, they seemed honestly incapable of spending an extended time in each other's company peacefully.

"I won't let you win," Merlin declared, even as he moved to threaten Arthur's knight with a bishop.

Arthur smiled at him fondly, and pushed a pawn forward to protect the knight.

"You don't need to, you're rubbish."

"Just wait until I have a little practice," Merlin warned.

Arthur snorted.

"This was horrible," Arthur commented once again a little while later with an air of satisfaction, while Merlin stared down at the board in dismay. "Absolutely, truly, horrible."

"Oh stop being such an arrogant prat," Merlin snapped, and glanced up at him without lifting his head.

"Stop – Merlin, you can't even remember how to move the pieces!"

"I made one mistake, will you stop going on about it?!"

Arthur gave him an openly affectionate look.

"I think throwing knives at this will actually present more of a challenge," he said, and turned to his practice target. "Get me the knives."

Merlin glowered at him, but Arthur stubbornly looked straight in front of himself and pretended not to notice; Merlin stood up with a sigh.

"Here," he said, putting them down on the table in front of Arthur, right next to the chess board; Arthur took one up while Merlin slid back onto his chair. "But I am not pulling them out for you again."

Arthur, who'd already been heaving the knife in one hand let his arm sink again and gave him a look.

"Do you actually know that you're supposed to be my servant?"

"Well, you're supposed to be resting," Merlin snapped, and crossed his arms.

"This is resting," Arthur said petulantly, voice just short of a whine.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Look, you don't even enjoy this," he said, motioning the practice target. "I can tell. Play another game with me."

Arthur sighed, and laid knife down, and didn't contradict him, so Merlin felt he was on the right way.

"You're just afraid I'll be better than you once I get the hang of it."

"I won't live that long," Arthur said. "Fine. But," he added, with a sudden grin, "we'll play for a wager."

"What kind of wager?" Merlin asked, with an instinctive move backwards when Arthur leant over the table.

Arthur shrugged.

"For the winner to decide upon his victory." He raised an eyebrow at him. "Well?"

"Do I get a handicap?" Merlin asked, worriedly.

"No," Arthur said cheerfully. "But you get to open the game."

Merlin sighed.

It was a short game.

"Gwen told me to look out for these opening moves," Merlin muttered to himself.

He glanced up at Arthur who was smirking at him evilly, and looking him up and down like he was deeply considering elaborate torture methods.

"Say it already," Merlin snapped, which only made Arthur smirk wider.

"Tomorrow, at the feast," he said after a moment. "You wear the hat."

Merlin stared at him; he wasn't sure what he would have expected, but that wasn't it – and he really should have, it was just the completely childish kind of thing Arthur would come up with.

"No."

"Yes. You have to, you lost."

"You said you wouldn't make me wear the hat anymore."

"No, I said I wouldn't order you to. This isn't an order, it's you paying up for a lost bet. You are not getting out of this."

Merlin sighed in defeat.

"You are such an arse," he said. "I don't see how you can still find this funny."

"I don't find it funny," Arthur said with a huge grin. "I only think it is proper for my manservant to wear the official costume of the servants of Camelot. You should be honoured."

"So why don't you wear it if it's such an honour? Wait – I can make you."

Arthur pursed his lips.

"If you win," he said, giving him a patronising look.

Merlin frowned at him.

"So..." Arthur broke him out of his concentration again; Merlin was fairly sure that it was crediting the prince with too much strategic thinking to suppose he was doing this on purpose; he simply got bored during the pauses when Merlin thought over his next move. "Are you still going to claim there's nothing going on between you and Morgana's maid?"

"I – what?" He stared up from the board. "No! I mean, yes. There isn't anything going on between me and Gwen!"

"She taught you to play chess," Arthur said dubiously.

"What does that have to do with –" He broke off. "Wait, this isn't some kind of code in Camelot?" he asked, a little panicked. Arthur laughed out loud at that, and Merlin scowled at him. "Shut up."

"I mean," Arthur went on, "she explained this to you." His tone made it clear that he thought that that alone was an immense sacrifice. "And sat through this." He made a wide gesture. "She's got to be in love with you, it's the only explanation."

Merlin repressed a wince; he was actually fairly sure that whatever she might have felt for him when he first came to Camelot was over now, but if it wasn't, he'd feel really guilty for taking advantage of it.

"She's just being nice. Not that it's something you'd know anything about."

"Is that why she kissed you then?" Arthur asked after a brief silence, jolting Merlin out of trying to remember what moves he'd been considering once again.

He really wished he'd never let that slip to Arthur; to his defence, he had been a little drunk at the time.

"Will you stop interrupting me?"

Arthur frowned and leant back, all cheer suddenly gone.

"And I'm not in love with her," Merlin added, once he'd made his move.

Arthur surveyed the game board and raised his eyebrows.

"She's a bad kisser?"

"No! What's that – That's really none of your business!"

Arthur moved a bishop.

"Check," he said.

Merlin cursed inwardly; he had the feeling Arthur was getting better –back into the game – faster than he was. Or maybe it was the added incentive. Or maybe it was because he kept talking during his moves.

He moved to protect his king.

"Check," Arthur repeated, and looked over the board with a frown. "And checkmate."

"What? No it's not, I can still –"

"You can still stall for three moves, that's all." Merlin mentally went through the possible next rounds and came to the same conclusion.

"Fine, you win again." He leant back. "What do you want this time, for me to go muck out your stables?"

"You have to do that anyway," Arthur dismissed absently. "No. Come here." He gestured to his side of the table.

"Why?" Merlin asked suspiciously.

Arthur gave him one of these looks that Merlin knew from experience meant: "Because I'm telling you to." He stood up.

To his shock, as soon as he was in reach, Arthur dragged him forwards to stand right in front of him, between his slightly spread knees.

"Kiss me," he demanded.

"What?"

"Kiss. Me." Arthur repeated, but not in that exasperated tone he usually got when Merlin made him repeat orders; the look in his eyes was very intent; his hands were still lightly resting on his hips, from when he'd pulled him close.

Merlin swallowed, and tried to repress the shiver that threatened to run all through his body. There was, after all, a reason why he was quite certain that he was not in love with Gwen even though she was the kindest person he knew and being kissed by her was a brilliant way to wake up from a coma.

"I –"

Arthur reached up and dragged his head down and pressed their lips together lightly and a bit clumsily, and that was all it took for him to decide to stop arguing; he leant forwards against Arthur and let his own body slide down a bit, buried one hand in his hair and tilted his head back, and deepened the kiss.

Arthur stared at him with wide, awed eyes and let him dominate the kiss, and suddenly Merlin was feeling giddy, and he pressed closer, for more contact, more Arthur; even when he broke the kiss, he kept his grip on Arthur's hair and remained with his lips hovering just above Arthur's mouth. He smiled.

"Are you sure," Arthur asked a bit breathlessly after a moment, "that Guinevere never tried this again?"

Merlin satisfied look dissolved into one of confusion.

"Yes. What –"

"You're better at this than one would expect from looking at you," Arthur explained, the look in his strikingly blue eyes still serious and intent.

Merlin was silent for a moment, processing this compliment/insult, and then a grin spread over his face.

"You think I'm brilliant!" he said giddily, even if in part because he needed something to overlay to lingering worry that this was just Arthur being stupid again, and nothing else, not – he wasn't sure what to think of it.

Arthur snorted.

"Kiss me again," he demanded.

Merlin cocked his head to the side and leant back a little; he found it a little unfair how Arthur managed to be commanding even when trapped under him with his neck wide exposed. He glanced at the chessboard.

"You don't get to make any more demands," he said.

"I change my first wager," Arthur immediately replied. "You won't have to wear the hat."

Merlin hesitated for just another moment, staring down at Arthur's face, his slightly parted lips, and Merlin was sure he could see where he had just faintly bitten down on his lower lip, and leant down. This time, when their lips met, Arthur put a hand on the back of his head, and with the other circled his waist, pushing his shirt up and drawing circles on his skin; Merlin shifted against him.

Then he was briskly pushed back.

He staggered to his feet.

"What –"

Arthur quickly turned away, back towards the table.

"Next game," he said, in a curt voice.

"Check," Merlin declared, moving his tower.

Arthur glanced up at him without lifting his head and sighed.

"It's checkmate, Merlin," he said. "I can't do anything."

"Yes, I thought so," Merlin said. This last game had passed in eerie silence, as Arthur had refused to explain what his two wagers had been about, and after a while Merlin had shut up and worried if maybe he'd made an immense mistake. "So... I win."

"Yes, Merlin, you win," Arthur said with another despairing sigh, and looked at him expectantly. "Congratulations," he added sarcastically.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at him, cautiously.

"Did you let me win?" he asked suspiciously.

Arthur avoided his gaze.

"Maybe," he admitted.

Merlin was beginning to grin again; a knot he hadn't even fully been aware of was untangling in his stomach.

"So," he said, "I can get you to wear the Hat now?"

"You really can't," Arthur said, looking at him again. "There would be diplomatic complications if I showed up at anyone's feast like that. Would you want that?"

"So you're really a cheating bastard," Merlin concluded, but didn't feel like pushing the point. "You would kiss me if I asked for that, though?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and looked at him intently.

"Why don't you try?"

"Fine," Merlin said; he tipped Arthur's king over, then stood up. "Come on then."

Arthur smiled delightedly and sprang to his feet, put both arms around him and pulled him into a deep, short kiss.

"Mm," Merlin said, happily. "That's it?" Arthur still had his arms around him, and he was smiling. "You know, I would have done that anyway." He bit his lips. "If you'd asked. That was really needlessly complicated. If I have to play a chess game every time I want to kiss –"

"Oh, shut up," Arthur snapped

Merlin grinned.

"Make me."

The End
(but, presumably, not for them. ;)