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He’s watching them again. Not that he has much of a choice in observing their world specifically, trapped in this one location as he is – one of the curses of being assigned to this…task – but his gaze keeps drifting back to the two men bickering in the courtyard. Some might say he’s just doing his job; others might say he’s being protective. He’s not entirely sure what he’d call it.
The prince makes some comment that causes the other man to grin in a surprisingly carefree way for a servant. There’s clearly an answering jibe, since a glare soon follows from his master. Business as usual, as he’s observed for almost a year now.
A sense of something almost like pride moves through him as he watches the exchange. The boy (as he sees him) doesn’t behave like a commoner, and he can see something in his friend responding to it. And he is his friend, no doubt about that, no matter how much he might protest it. Sometimes mortals can be such…prats.
Merlin’s word, not his.
At least Hunith kept the name he chose. No need to advertise the child to every magical being passing by. Prophesied names were all well and good from the practicality side of things, giving seers something they could actually write down, but keeping them? Might as well paint a target on his forehead.
No real reason behind that particular name. He liked falcons, especially when in the hunt. Merlins especially, although they could be pests when he was trying to fix small things like their food supply. That was what gods were there for, after all: keeping everything in order.
The mood has clearly changed between them again. Suddenly the prince is trying not to laugh, while Merlin beams like an idiot. Not a look the watcher likes, yet if it keeps him hidden for a bit longer… Considering the boy’s complete lack of subtlety (which can’t be from him, no matter what some might argue), he needs all the help he can get.
Stretching for a moment, cursing the limitations of mortal bodies, he glances away briefly, and frowns as he catches sight of Uther Pendragon through one of the windows set high in the castle wall. The king is in discussion with some knights, no doubt thinking of all new ways to try to suppress magic in the kingdom. It’s because of that man that he’s distinctly weaker these days, forced to take on a form to watch the boy rather than seeing through the eyes of a thousand animals. It’s just so inconvenient to have to physically be there, even though his eyes are still as good as ever – hence how he can see Uther all the way up there in the first place. Forms may change, but eyes don’t. Windows to the soul and all that.
Yes, he was very interested when he saw Merlin’s eyes change the first time. A little more than magic in common, it seems.
Speaking of whom, where is he?
He looks around, suddenly aware that the one he is supposed to be watching has vanished, along with that prince. This has to be a new low for him: a god losing track of a boy barely into his third decade and only just learning to control those powers of his.
As he casts around, he catches sight of a stray shaft of sunlight highlighting blonde hair. They’ve moved across the courtyard, under a covering at the side. Before his mind can finish even formulating the question of why, his breath (he has breath now, how strange does that feel?) catches in his throat.
Considering what he’s seen and heard about that…that boy, he supposes that he should be glad it’s nothing too bad. However, his mind goes blank, just as before a hunt, when he sees Merlin backed against a wall, having something whispered in his ear in a way that makes the watcher’s blood boil. Even worse, the look given in return could hardly be described as platonic.
Of all the…
It’s all he can do not to stride over there and tear the prince away. Not because they’re both men – pagan gods are far more open-minded than the ideas some people have replaced them with – but because of the emotions that suddenly surge up at the sight. Some of the others may have warned him, or at least joked about, such attachments, yet the reality is almost as overwhelming as the heat of the hunt.
He knows what Arthur’s like, even if Merlin likes to pretend it isn’t true. Maybe he hasn’t seen anything directly, not yet. Nevertheless, he’s seen enough flirting, enough ‘significant looks’, enough women (and men, for that matter) going with him into his chambers at night. The prince acts in fitting with his rank, conquering all, even off the battlefield.
In fact, it was rather amusing to watch that business with the Sidhe a few weeks ago. Nothing quite like seeing the tables turned for once, although he almost felt guilty at the look on Merlin’s face.
Nevertheless, he’ll make certain Arthur doesn’t return to his normal habits here. He refuses to watch the warlock become another conquest, dismissed as soon as what was wanted has been taken. Never mind that the boy can take care of himself otherwise; he’s seen how blind he can be when it comes to his ‘master’. Running around to suit the prince’s needs, to save his life without a word of thanks, when he’s so much better…
There’s clearly another joke, because suddenly Merlin’s laughing again, although not as innocently, or at least lust-free, as he’d like. How – no – when did this begin? Watching two humans (more or less) for weeks, months should have suggested something was happening. What’s the point of being a hunter if you can’t notice what’s important?
Not that it matters how it all started. Halves of the whole or not, destiny or not…
Arthur’s going to realise he made a mistake when he tried to mess around with a god’s son.