Chapter Text
The blonde lifts an unimpressed brow, his mouth turned downwards in a sneer as he steps forward, “Do I know you?”
“Ah, I’m Merlin,” The peasant holds out his hand politely.
“So I don’t know you.”
The smile fades from Merlin’s face, his hand dropping back to his side, “No.”
“Yet you called me friend.”
Merlin narrows his eyes at the arrogant arse. The ears on his head are clearly that of a canine, most likely some kind of wolf with the way they stand tall. The fur of said ears is noticeably lighter than his golden hair, the furry appendages matching perfectly to his tail; which has since gone rigid, a stark contrast to the lazy wagging he had been doing a moment ago while throwing daggers at the trembling man.
Merlin purses his lips into an unamused line, “That was my mistake.”
“Yes, I think so.” The prat’s eyes flit down Merlin’s body assessingly.
“Yeah,” Merlin drawls, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fights back a smile, “I’d never be friends with such an ass.” Merlin turns to walk away, giving a dramatic sweep of his tail. He just manages to catch the prat’s angry ear flick out of his periphery.
“Nor I one who could be so stupid.” Arthur moves his hand to his pommel, flaring out alpha pheromones toward this idiot beta. “Tell me, Merlin,” The obsidian haired peasant turns back towards him with a glare, “What’s your shift?”
Merlin’s eyes flick down to the sword on the alpha’s hip, “And why should I tell you?”
“I’m merely curious,” The alpha gives an egotistical shrug, “Since it looks like you know how to walk on all fours.”
Unfettered rage instantly ignites to a blaze deep in Merlin’s chest, strong enough to have him lift his eyes to the posturing alpha.
While this mutt has no way of knowing Merlin is truly an omega the sorcerer’s secondary gender makes such a statement all the more vulgar.
Merlin’s hackles rise, “No, can’t say I do.”
The arse takes another step forward, “Would you like me to help you?”
Merlin has to clench his jaw to stop himself from snapping at the prick, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“Why?” The blonde chuckles, taking yet another step closer. “What are you going to do to me?” His pheromones are overwhelmingly strong even for a pompous alpha. The scent urges Merlin to submit, but he has years of practice with elitist alphas like this one.
“You have no idea.”
A baleful smile creeps onto the alpha’s face as he steps back, opening his arms in a clear invitation for a fight. “Be my guest.” His tail gives a singular amused wag, “Come on.” He leans his head forward. “Come on,” he draws cockily.
Merlin reels back to knock some sense into the brute. Unfortunately, his fist is caught and forced behind his back and he’s yanked to face the other way. Merlin’s magic thrashes within him.
“I could throw you in jail for that.” The alpha rumbles against his back. His hot breath puffs against the fur of Merlin’s ear, making the appendage twitch.
“Who do you think you are?! The King?!” Merlin sneers as he tries to jerk out of the hold.
“No. I’m his son. Arthur.”
Merlin’s joy of being released from the dungeons quickly fades as he finds himself now entrapped in the stocks, people throwing rotten vegetables at him.
It’s better than having to stay in the dungeons though, and in all honesty it’s almost fun seeing how entertained the people are, especially the children. Plus as long as Merlin keeps his ears pressed forward it stops any of the detritus from grossly sliding inside his ear flaps.
Eventually the people run out of food to throw and make a quick getaway to scrounge up more scraps.
It’s then a young woman around Merlin’s age gently approaches. She’s quite fetching, a natural beauty to her dark skin and coily hair. She has two dusky brown rabbit ears sticking up on her head. They aren’t obtusely large, as every shifter’s features are in proportion to their human frame, though certainly larger than most.
It’s odd seeing a rabbit shifter, similar in rarity to Merlin’s own fox, yet it’s the second one he’s ever come across, his mother being the only other. Though, unlike this stranger, his mother is a lop rabbit, her ears falling down along her hair rather than standing on end. There’s a pang of homesickness in his chest even though he’s only just left.
“I’m Guinevere.” The rabbit shifter introduces herself, “But most people call me Gwen, I’m the Lady Morgana’s maidservant.” She wrings her hands together as the tips of her ears nervously twitch.
“I’m Merlin.” Merlin does his best to introduce himself given his current position but Gwen still kindly shakes his hand, albeit at a rather strange angle.
“I saw what you did.” Gwen says earnestly, “You were so brave!”
Merlin gives a self-deprecating scoff, “It was stupid.”
“Well, I’m glad you walked away, you weren’t going to beat him.”
Merlin knows he clearly isn’t an alpha. But it’s not as if foxes are solely prey animals, they’re also predators. It’s a hit to his pride to hear that coming from a rabbit.
“Oh, I- I could beat him.” Merlin answers, knowing full well it’s true.
The rabbit tilts her head giving him a once over, “You think? You just don’t look like one of those big muscly alpha fellows.”
Merlin gives her an amused yet partially affronted look, “Thanks.”
“No, no! I’m sure you’re stronger than you look.” Gwen insists, “Arthur’s just one of these real rough-tough save the world kind of alphas and, well… well, you don’t look like that.”
Merlin looks around conspiratorially, Gwen leans in closer, eager to hear what he has to say, “I’m in disguise.”
A pretty laugh bubbles out of the rabbit. And really it is quite funny because Merlin is in disguise, just on the other side of the scale.
“Well, it’s great you stood up to him. Arthur’s a bully. And you were a real hero.”
Merlin’s tail starts to wag. He goes to reply but is interrupted by a group of laughing people storming over, wooden buckets filled with more spoiled food.
“Ah, you’ll have to excuse me, Guinevere. My fans have returned.”
Gwen gives another laugh and a bow of her head before scurrying off, not wanting to get any straying rot on her dress.
Merlin’s thoughts are still on that strange interaction he just had while delivering a tincture to the famed singer Lady Helen, when he spots an unfortunately familiar set of white ears.
Merlin keeps his eyes focused forward, not wanting to have to interact with that prick again.
“How’s walking on all fours coming along?”
Merlin’s ears flatten in annoyance but he keeps walking on, he’ll be a bigger man than this sod of an alpha.
“Oh, don’t run away,” The prince goads.
Merlin comes to a stop, he’s suffered the harassment of alphas ever since he presented, and now the fates are giving him a second opportunity to knock this one down a peg. “From you?” Merlin asks without turning around.
“Oh thank god. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb.” Unbeknownst to Merlin the prince’s tail swishes in amusement.
“Look,” Merlin turns around. The prince stills his tail. “I knew you were an ass. I just didn’t know you were a royal one.”
Arthur scoffs in disbelief, his tail giving a few more unintentional wags before he purposefully stops it again.
“Ooh,” Merlin looks to the group of what appear to be either knights or guards behind the prince. “What are you going to do?” His voice lilts condescendingly, “You got your daddy’s men to protect you?”
Arthur gives a laugh that Merlin can’t tell is genuine or not. “I could take you apart with one blow.” The alpha’s dominating pheromones start filling the air around them. It’s an annoyingly cloying scent of sunny grass and pine tinged with the acridness of a pissed alpha.
“I could take you apart with less than that.”
“Are you sure….?” Arthur had intended to finish by calling Merlin by his shift, when he realizes the peasant never did tell him, “You never did say what your shift is.”
Arthur certainly hadn’t been wondering all of last evening what shift the surly peasant could be, nor did he come to the lower town on the off chance he might run into the strange lad again. His black furred ears are pointed like Arthur’s own, but each base is slightly wider and noticeably fluffier. The prince had thought maybe he was some breed of dog or perhaps even a forest cat but his tail is far too plush looking.
The beta holds his gaze with narrowed eyes before finally answering, hoping it will be the end of this conversation. “Arctic fox.”
It’s certainly not a shift to be ashamed of, while it isn’t inherently something powerful, as those tend to be alphas, it certainly isn’t weak either. It also is a fairly rare shift, the most common being dogs, cats, and rodents.
The confusion that slams into Arthur is almost enough to have him forgetting their row, “But your fur is black.” The prince’s eyes flit over Merlin’s furry appendages.
“Good to know your eyes work.” Merlin makes an obvious show of rolling his eyes, his tail giving a theatrical flick. “Arctic foxes can be either white or black.” Though not very typical, not that he wants this arse to know that. Arthur’s ear flicks in annoyance. Merlin continues on, “But yes, I am quite sure.”
It’s really rather dumb to challenge an alpha, especially if you are a lower ranking gender, but Merlin has the unfortunate habit of allowing his emotions to make his decisions.
Arthur tosses his head back with a laugh at the beta’s delusional confidence. One of his knights hands him a flail. “Here you go, big man.” Arthur grins, tossing the weapon to Merlin, which he obviously does not catch. But the beta is quick to grab it up.
The prince draws his own flail, he gives performative twirls to his side and above his head, “I warn you, I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”
The people bustling along the road have stopped to stare, though keeping a safe distance from their vexed prince.
“Wow,” Merlin’s tone drips with sarcasm. “And how long have you been training to be a prat?”
Arthur’s tail traitorously starts wagging again, “You can’t address me like that.”
“Sorry,” Merlin dips his head slightly, “how long have you been training to be a prat,” he looks up through his lashes, tail swishing teasingly behind him, “my lord?”
Something Arthur is absolutely not going to acknowledge kindles low in his stomach. He turns a tight smile to his men who laugh at the idiot’s tomfoolery.
Without warning Arthur turns and swings his weapon at the fox who just manages to duck out of the way, the spiked ball barely missing his ears.
The next minutes are filled with, well not a fight really, it’s mostly Arthur pursuing Merlin as the omega beta stumbles through the market. The sorcerer is able to covertly use his magic to give himself the upper hand while simultaneously making Arthur look like a fool.
That is, until Merlin catches a glimpse of Gaius in their growing crowd, his mouse ears flicking in dismay. Distracted, Merlin fails to see Arthur grab a broom. The prince bats Merlin’s stomach and then pushes on his head with enough force to have Merlin fall to the ground.
Merlin would have been far angrier had he not lost from being distracted, but the loss is his own fault. His ears press to his head as Arthur starts sweeping the dirt on the floor towards him.
The fox shuffles back onto his feet and Arthur’s men are already moving. Merlin’s eyes go wide as he realizes he’s going to be arrested… again.
“Wait.” The prince raises a hand, “Let him go.” The knights back off. “He may be an idiot, but he’s a brave one.”
Merlin’s annoyance at being beat quickly fades to a mix of shock and something close to yet not quite gratitude. Though none of this would have happened in the first place if this wolf wasn’t such an arse.
The prince’s gaze narrows as he steps closer, his head tilting to the side, eyes curious, “There’s something about you Merlin, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Dread fills Merlin’s chest as everyone in the room is lulled to sleep by Lady Helen’s eerie melody. He’s quick to press his hands over his fox ears, pressing them down into his hair, uncomfortably angling his neck so his shoulder can cover his human ears.
He frantically looks around the room for someone to intervene but even the knights have succumbed to the woman’s siren song, all now covered in magically conjured cobwebs.
Lady Helen’s eyes are glued to where the king and prince are sat. She moves forward in a smooth glide, almost as if floating.
That damn dragon had better be right.
With a glance to the chandelier, Merlin’s eyes flash gold. The fixture breaks away from the ceiling and crashes onto the woman, crushing her and her song.
Almost immediately the occupants begin to stir, confusion quickly morphing to fright as they take in the scene before them, the once beautiful lady Helen now revealed as a haggard sorceress.
Uther is the first to stand, his graying lion ears poking out over his crown, the cobwebs falling off of him in the process. The prince follows immediately after, taking a moment longer to free himself from the webs.
Before the king can even utter a word the sorceress lifts her head and grabs her dagger not wasting even a second before throwing it right for the prince’s heart. The sorceress’s head falls back to the ground, the life leaving her before she can even see her dagger hit its mark.
Merlin’s pulse thunders in his chest as he watches the blade leave the woman’s wrinkled hand.
It’s as if time is slowed to a near stop.
Merlin leaps forward from the shadows of the room and bounds over to the prince. The fox digs his fingers into the alpha’s shoulders and yanks him. The force of the pull sends them both tumbling.
It’s then Merlin feels a violent swoop as time speeds up again. His back hits the ground, the prince unceremoniously landing atop him, squishing the omega with his weight.
The warlock’s chest is heaving as Arthur pushes himself up just enough to look at Merlin’s face. Their ears are perked toward each other, Merlin’s fingers are tangled in the fine fabric of Arthur’s jacket. Both of their eyes are wide in disbelief as their quick breaths intermingle in the air between them. They stare at each other a moment too long before their heads simultaneously snap up to the dagger now stabbed into Arthur’s chair.
The prince’s brow furrows, his perturbed gaze slowly sliding back to Merlin.
“Arthur!” The king’s voice booms, startling them both. Arthur expeditiously scrambles off of Merlin who is just as quick to shuffle to his feet. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, father.” Arthur gives a reassuring nod, his ears and tail raised high with shock. The disbelief is clear in his scent, though that can also be said for the majority of the room.
The king’s attention quickly shifts to Merlin, “You saved my boy’s life.” His face is nearly as perplexed as Arthur’s own, his smooth tail slack with shock, his rounded ears piqued toward Merlin in recognition. “A debt must be repaid.”
Merlin’s ears twitch nervously, his tail giving awkward jerks, “Oh, well–” his eyes flick nervously to Arthur then back to the king.
“Don’t be so modest, you shall be rewarded.” The king’s tail slowly starts to perk up, a rare display of genuine emotion from the monarch.
“Oh, No, honestly, you really don't have to, Your Majesty.” Merlin starts fidgeting even more. It certainly doesn’t help that only a few inches away the prince is staring at him, unblinking.
“No, absolutely. This merits something quite special.” There’s an almost soft joy filling the king’s voice. It leaves Arthur all the more befuddled but he can’t tear his gaze away from the peasant who he had not only thrown into the dungeons but beat with a broom.
“Well…” Merlin trails off, more so because he doesn’t want to accidentally offend the king.
Uther gives Arthur a reassuring pat on the back, yet the prince still does not turn to him, not that Uther notices with his attention still on the younger boy. “You shall be rewarded with a position in The Royal Household. You shall be Prince Arthur’s manservant.”
That’s finally enough to draw Arthur’s attention, but the king is already walking away, applause filling the room.
“Father!” Arthur calls out, aghast at the declaration.
The prince and Merlin lock eyes again this time with twin grimaces marring their features.
The following days are brutal. The prince has Merlin running around doing all sorts of ridiculous chores which Merlin is fairly certain aren’t even part of his duties. The prat even uses Merlin as a training dummy, though Arthur calls it ‘sword training’.
Merlin’s only saving grace is Gwen who is benevolent enough to explain where things are and how he should be going about certain duties. He would have truly been lost without her help. That, and as much as he hates to admit it, Arthur’s scent is annoyingly pleasant, at least when he’s not angry, which in the presence of Merlin is very rare. But one could consider it a perk that he at least doesn’t smell lousy.
It’s Merlin’s first time seeing a tournament and he is as excited as any young man would be. Though his excitement ebbs slightly as he struggles to get Arthur’s armor on.
“You do know the tournament starts today?” Arthur asks dryly, annoyance clear in his scent.
Merlin’s ears give an apologetic wince. “Yes, sire.”
It takes a moment longer of fumbling but he manages to latch the vambrace around Arthur’s wrist. The metal has already warmed from sitting out in the sun, Merlin can’t fathom how hot it must get actually having to fight in it.
The prince stares forward, trying to ignore the way Merlin clumsily scurries to his side to start latching a fastening on his shoulder.
Just when Arthur is starting to partly relax Merlin’s voice pipes up again. “You nervous?”
Arthur sends a fleeting look skywards before irritatedly grumbling. “I don’t get nervous.”
“Really?” Merlin asks as if he truly believes it. “I thought everyone got nervous.”
“Would you shut up!” Arthur turns and snaps his teeth toward Merlin with a snarl.
Lighting sears through Merlin’s instincts causing him to immediately jerk back. His heartbeat pounds against his sternum as magic prickles his palms.
As an omega it is one of his most primal instincts to avoid the teeth of an alpha. An instinct that no matter how hard he’s tried Merlin can not fight against.
Arthur glances to him but doesn’t say anything, well used to even alphas jolting away from him. There’s a very unbecoming pang of guilt that tries to form in his chest but Arthur doesn’t give it space to breathe. He fights against the urge to let his ears droop forward with remorse.
Arthur stares past Merlin as the servant steps close to fasten his cape around his shoulders. Typically, Arthur’s servants would cower the rest of the day after having been snapped at like that. Yet, Merlin’s ears have already popped back up, though they are quick to flatten again, this time in concentration as he struggles to secure the tie of his cape.
The dolt’s fluffy appendages move far more than any servant he’s had before. It’s as irritating as it is distracting. Little flicks and swishes that any proper servant would still in the presence of their master, knowing their feelings aren’t worth the attention of their betters.
Given that Arthur has such a tempestuous shift he has trained tirelessly to keep a hold on his emotions. But despite all the training it isn’t rare for Arthur’s mood to get the better of him. A fact which his father repeatedly shows disappointment in, Uther still occasionally bringing the failure to light and listlessly hoping that, like his own vitality, it eases with age; as it has grown clear to him it is not something Arthur capable of doing himself.
Merlin tucks Arthur’s helm under the prince’s arm. Unlike some of the lesser nobles who have to keep their ears pinned during fights Arthur’s helmet has two triangular casings to protect his proud appendages. Similarly, he has plates covering his tail, though Arthur had adorned those himself since it would be highly improper to let anyone touch his animalistic traits and vice versa.
“Well,” Merlin takes a step back, his ears and tail held proud as he puts his hands on his hips to consider his work. “Yeah, Great. I think you’re all set.”
Whatever kindling of guilt Arthur had been experiencing withers away. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” His voice is heavy with incredulity, truly not believing Merlin to possibly be that stupid.
The gormless way Merlin’s eyes flick over him proves Arthur wrong. “My sword.”
“Oh.” Merlin gives him a shy yet witless smile as he reaches toward the sword rack. “Yeah, sorry. Guess you’ll be needing that.”
Without waiting for it to be handed to him Arthur swipes the blade from the idiot's hold and marches away.
The first day of the tournament goes as well as Merlin expects, Arthur easily besting his opponents.
The visiting knights all fawn over the Lady Morgana, rightfully so as she’s a beautiful alpha. Merlin is stunned the first time he sees her during the first night of the banquet, and not just for her striking beauty. Delicate black curls frame her captivating face, and scales rest on her upper cheekbones and brow bones, fading softly into her surrounding skin, they shimmer between bronze and black when they catch the candlelight.
Reptilian shifts are rare.
So, it is no surprise when the lady immediately takes to a knight who also bares scales; though his are only visible on his cheekbones, a bright green color, matching the snakes on his shield.
The second day of the tournament Merlin struggles just as much as he did the day prior. His fingers stumble as he tries to unlatch one of the many straps of Arthur’s armor.
The prince flatly watches the idiot fumble, his ears once again pressed back in concentration, his ever-moving tail stilled as he focuses. Had Arthur not been in such a placid mood after his win he’d not have been as tolerant with the dolt’s blundering.
Though Arthur has to admit there is something amusing about watching the fool try to come off as competent.
The prince’s eyes are drawn away from his manservant by the movement of an approaching figure.
Merlin’s hands falter as the prince physically tenses under his hands. Arthur’s tail which had been lax pulls taut as his alpha dominance slowly starts seeping out, as if trying to do so discreetly.
Merlin glances up to see Sir Valiant, the man with green scales, walking towards them, his own servant in tow. The glaring sunlight above head makes the yellow of his heraldry colors look even brighter. “May I offer my congratulations on your victory today?”
The wariness of Arthur immediately has Merlin on edge. He doesn’t know much about the etiquette of such events but this is the only knight to have approached Arthur. It’s odd.
“Likewise,” Arthur answers cordially yet curtly at the same time.
“I hope to see you at the reception this evening.” The man flares his dominance pheromones, his eyes flicking briefly to Merlin before sauntering away. The fox has to fight the urge to crinkle his nose at the musty stench.
Both Arthur and Merlin watch as the man retreats, not giving Arthur the opportunity to return the challenge.
“Creep.” Merlin sneers as the man disappears behind a tent.
Arthur’s tail gives a few swishes as he puffs an amused breath out his nose. Merlin’s tail wags in turn, wry grin pulling at the corners of his lips. But, of course, the prat is quick to ruin it. He clears his throat before giving Merlin a ridiculous list of chores.
Merlin smoothes down the top most blanket on the prince’s bed. The fabric is silken under his fingers as he folds back the corner for ease of access. Gods forbid Arthur have to pull his blankets back to get into bed.
“Can I ask you something?” Merlin asks to the changing screen Arthur is currently behind, his banquet clothes recklessly being slung over the top.
“You just did.” Arthur deadpans from the other side of the divider.
Merlin rolls his eyes, continuing anyway, “It’s about Lady Morgana.”
Arthur’s head pops out from the side of the screen, eyes narrowed and ears pinned in suspicion, “What about Morgana?”
“What’s her shift?” Merlin asks, genuinely curious about what kind of reptile she could be.
Arthur disappears behind the screen for a moment before remerging in his sleeping trousers.
Merlin has yet to get used to seeing the prince so bare, which his inner omega is irritatingly fond of looking at. Not that Merlin would ever even consider the prince like that… even if they could. Which they certainly can’t, because Arthur is a prince and Merlin is a servant. Plus, as far as anyone other than Gaius knows Merlin is a beta, and not magical.
And even still, Arthur’s personality is that of all the other brutish alphas, flagrantly arrogant and imperiously aggressive.
“You haven’t asked her maidservant?” Arthur drawls as he pads across the room. The light of the candles flickers across Arthur as he moves, casting the fur of both his ears and tail in swaths of warm gold.
Merlin narrows his eyes, “How do you know that?” As far as he knows he hasn’t talked to Gwen in the presence of Arthur, so how the hell does he know they’re friends?
Arthur shuffles some papers on his desk, “Morgana and her maid talk about everything together, and then I have the displeasure of listening to Morgana’s tittering.” He turns back to face Merlin, leaning a hip on his desk.
“Well,” Merlin continues, unfazed by the prince’s brusqueness, “I wasn’t sure if it was a rude thing to ask, especially of a Lady. And given I am friends with Gwen I’d rather her not think ill of me…” He trails off before continuing, “You already dislike me, so no harm done.”
Arthur gives a snort but quickly covers it with a cough. “It would have been rude had you asked Morgana, only because someone of your rank should not be speaking to a lady unless spoken to. It wouldn’t have been an issue to ask her maid servant.”
“Oh,” Merlin’s brows shoot up, surprised that Arthur actually gave him a genuine answer.
“But,” Arthur pushes himself off his desk and starts moving to his bed, tail a slow easy sweep, “Lady Morgana’s shift is an Inland Taipan. A type of snake.”
Merlin hums in understanding as Arthur plops down onto the bed, petulantly refusing to pull the covers over his body. Merlin, slowly getting used to this routine, shuffles over and drags the exuberantly lavish blankets over him.
“You’re dismissed,” Arthur waves him away before turning on his side, his back to Merlin. “You better be here early tomorrow, there’s much to do before the later rounds of the tournament.”
“Right.” Merlin’s excitement for the tourney slightly fades, though only a little. “Goodnight, Arthur,” Merlin calls flippantly as he reaches for the door.
“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur calls back equally as peevish before Merlin exits.
The armory is eerily dark despite the bright sun outside, the only light of the room streams in from the few narrow windows atop the highest points of the wall. Motes of dust catch in the scant light as Merlin traipses through the room.
Merlin leans over to pick up Arthur’s armor when a strange noise has him freezing. The prey part of his instincts perk up as he listens for another sound, his ears twisting in various directions.
The fur along his tail bristles as the unsettling feeling grows stronger. Almost as if a pair of eyes are watching him.
“Hello?” Merlin cautiously calls out to the empty space, “Is someone there?”
Merlin’s eyes scan the room, there’s racks of swords, staffs, and armor stands that anyone could easily hide behind.
Merlin’s heart stutters as he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. His first instinct is to think it was something behind the shield before his mind catches up and he realizes it was the shield itself that moved. He’s certain he just saw that snake blink.
Momentarily abandoning his quest for the prince’s armor Merlin trepidatiously approaches the shield, his boots softly tapping against the stone of the floor with each measured step. He crouches down to get a closer look, almost mesmerized by the bright red of the snake’s eyes. He reaches a hand out to touch the shield.
He’s stopped short as the tip of a blade is pressed to his chest.
Merlin’s eyes dart up to the wielder in a panic. Sir Valiant looms over him menacingly, his eyes dark with a clear warning.
The blade is pressed into Merlin’s chest just enough to force him away from the shield. Dominating pheromones pour off the alpha as he gives a warning growl.
Merlin raises his hands placatingly, trying to come off as unthreatening as a beta can.
Valiant’s scent is quick to saturate the enclosed space, clawing its way down Merlin’s throat and demanding he submit. Merlin has dealt with angry alphas before, but few have ever smelt so violent. It smells as if the man is seconds away from mauling him.
“Can I help you with something, boy?”
Merlin swallows despite the sudden dryness of his throat. It’s not as if he can’t use his magic to knock the man out, but if the knight were to remember what happened upon waking Merlin would be expedited to the pyre.
“Nope,” Merlin answers as guilessly as he can though his voice has a slight waver to it. He hopes the knight takes it as fear of the sword on his chest rather than him drowning in his stench. “I’m good. I– I was just… I, uhm, was just gathering my master’s armor. Ahem, you know, Prince Arthur.”
The knight’s eyes narrow further but he lowers his sword. “Then you’d best be on your way.” The way Valiant sneers tactfully shows off his alphan incisors.
“Right, yeah. No problem.” Merlin scurries away to gather the armor, being sure to never fully turn his back to the man, his tail tucked low in a begrudging show of submission.
Unlike the annoyance that tinges Arthur’s scent, Valiant smells truly as if he has intent to harm, and Merlin isn’t in the mood to push his luck, and certainly not against a knight.
The prince’s nose scrunches as he enters the tent, he completely ignores the armor that’s been laid out and stalks up to Merlin. “Why the hell do you reek of Sir Valiant?”
Merlin’s ears swat nervously at the unexpected hostility, “He entered the armory when I was retrieving your armor.”
“And?”
“And what?” Merlin asks as innocently as he can.
Arthur rolls his eyes, “Merlin you stink of him. Far too much just to have passed by.”
Merlin’s eyes dart around the room shadily, but Arthur is well aware of the idiot's shift, he’d be ignorant to ignore such a duplicitous action. Foxes are well known for being shifty.
“Merlin,” Arthur prompts when he doesn’t answer.
“He just… I had been looking at his shield. He hadn’t quite liked that.”
Arthur’s ear twitches, his eyes narrowing even further, “So he, what? Scented you?”
“Gods no!” Merlin reels back, scandalized at such an implication, “He just flared his aggression and told me to be off.” The man also held his sword to Merlin but the servant doesn’t feel that information is necessary for the time being. He doesn’t need Arthur thinking he’s some damsel in distress.
Arthur’s wariness instantly turns to confusion, “How could you tell?”
A second passes where Merlin doesn’t blink before he clears his throat, giving a small shake of his head as he keeps his expression expertly impassive. “I just- I assumed, after what you said. Even betas know how you lot like to assert your dominance.”
“Well, don’t let it happen again, you smell rancid.” Arthur turns to inspect the armor that has been laid out.
“Thanks.” Merlin mutters, his heart gradually slowing back down to its regular cadence.
The prince eyes the metal warily before turning to his manservant. “You did this all by yourself?”
“Yes, sire.” Merlin fights the urge to wag his tail smugly.
“Now, let’s see if you can get it on me without forgetting anything.”
The scent is even more foul as Merlin flits so closely around him. But Arthur can’t deny he is doing remarkably better than last time.
Arthur’s tail is slowly swaying when Merlin finishes, “That was much better,” the prince’s voice is genuinely approving. Merlin’s tail starts to wiggle. “Not that it could have gotten any worse.”
Merlin’s tail doesn’t stop, “I’m a fast learner.”
“I hope for your sake that’s true,” Arthur replies bluntly.
With the non-hostile mood over them, Merlin takes a chance and bites the arrow, “Good luck.”
Arthur gives him a sideways look before walking off.
Merlin follows Arthur to the arena where he watches the prince emerge to a round of raucous cheering. It’s quite clear the people of Camelot are fond of their prince.
The servant finds himself cheering for Arthur as well.
Their growing rapport only lasts so long.
After Arthur is humiliated in front of the court he lays into Merlin, growling and snarling a storm as he spits insults at the idiot.
Merlin tries to plead his case to the rabid wolf but it’s hard to find his voice as he nearly suffocates in the alpha’s enraged pheromones.
The animosity comes to a head when Arthur dismisses him from his position as his manservant.
Part of Merlin wants to argue, to stay, because Arthur could be killed if he doesn’t listen. But Merlin is far too pissed at the prick’s reluctance to listen and the audacity to fire him, so he instead storms out of the room.
After staying up all evening he finally manages the spell. Though the morality of turning a statue into a dog, uncomfortably similar to a shifter changing to their animal form, is rather hazy; nevertheless Merlin dashes out of his room, leaving the issue of the dog to be solved later.
So frantic in his rush to get to the arena Merlin only notices halfway there that he forgot to adorn his neckerchief. It has him feeling obscenely exposed. One can’t see an omega’s mating glands as they lie seamlessly underneath the skin; but having the area on display for anyone to see, for alphas to see, it has his stomach roiling. But he pushes forward, determined to keep Arthur from meeting an untimely fate.
“I want to say,” The tips of Arthur’s ears drop forward, showing a sliver of guilt, “it was unfair to sack you.” He keeps his voice low enough so that Merlin is the only one who can hear him through the clamor of the banquet. Despite the background noise their ears remain tilted toward each other.
In all honesty, Merlin really hadn’t expected the prince to be remorseful. It has him feeling twitchy and mildly awkward, “Buy me a drink. We’ll call it even.” His tail makes bashful swirls.
Arthur’s lip pulls up in disgust, though his tail starts waving, “I can’t really be seen buying drinks for my servant.”
“Your servant? But you sacked me.” Merlin raises a brow.
“And now I’m rehiring you.” Arthur turns to face the dance floor so he doesn't have to look at Merlin’s obnoxious smile, “My chambers are a mess. My clothes need washing, my armor needs repairing, my boots need cleaning, my dogs need exercising….”
Yup. Still a prat.