Title: Silliness doesn't deserve a title.
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Kilgharrah, a tower and a white steed.
Summary: Merlin looks for his damsel, Arthur waits for his knight.
Warnings: Unbetad crack, bad crack, really really terrible crack, no really.
Word Count: 800
Author's Notes: This is really unoriginal. I am unapologetic.
“Hello!” Merlin calls, his white steed steady between his knees, the forest quiet and trapped in spring green as dawn pours from the skies. “Ahoy there,” he calls again when no answer comes forth.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” a voice answers, gruff and faraway, and the shutters of the tower’s one window fly open.
“I am here to rescue –– uh,” Merlin says, when a scruffy bed-headed youth sticks his head outside. “The fair maiden,” he finishes a little weakly.
“There’s no one here but me.”
“You’re no princess,” Merlin says, feeling a little short changed.
“And you’re no knight,” the man calls back, as if Merlin just insulted him greatly.
“I am Merlin, sorcerer and physician’s apprentice! I learnt of, eh, your captivity and set forth to ––”
“Oh stop babbling will you, I’m waiting for a handsome knight in shining armor, not some scrawny, big-eared magician –– which is illegal by the way –– so go back where you came from and let me sleep.”
Merlin narrows his eyes. Well. Mayhap not a princess, but sort of pretty anyway. Bit of a morning mood but nothing a good snog couldn’t cure, surely. “I’m coming up,” he says, having made up his mind.
“You’ll do no such thing!”
“Watch me.” Merlin gets off his horse and ties it to a tree, before looking at the tower, weighing his options. He could call Kilgharrah but he wants to woo his dams–– lord in distress, not frighten him into cardiac arrest. Scaling the wall is out of the question, even if it wasn’t sheer flat rock, since Merlin has the coordination of a drunk penguin. He could enchant the horse to fly, but more likely than not, it’d die of fright and he fully intends riding away on it with his prince in his lap.
He’d have to fly himself then. Totally and utterly for practical reasons only. Not at all because it makes him look badass. He conjures the illusion of large white wings, because if there ever is a time for showing off, this is it, flaps his arms a few times experimentally, and takes off with a word and flash of golf in his irises.
“Hello,” Merlin says, grinning stupidly as he perches on the windowsill.
“Gurgle,” the prince says, or something like it anyway and Merlin feels even more pleased because he looks suitably impressed.
“What’s your name?” Merlin asks, hoping he hasn’t turned the prince into an idiot by accident. It wouldn’t be the first time his magic has, uh, sideeffects.
“Arthur. My name is Arthur. You just,” he waves his hands around a bit, “grew wings. And flew.”
“Ah yes, that was just an illusion. The wings, not the flying. I’m really here.”
“I was starting to wonder,” Arthur says but he doesn’t sound as put out as before. In fact, he keeps giving Merlin these curious looks.”
“Shall we go then?” Merlin asks, indicating the window. The tower room is sort of nice, but also sort of depressing with the one window and the piles and piles of books. He wants to take Arthur out of there and make him swim in the river, eat apples freshly plucked from the tree and maybe get a bit drunk on spiced wine.
Arthur cuts through his musings and Merlin realizes he might’ve been staring. “But you haven’t even faced the dragon yet!” says Arthur, like he might be just a little bit disappointed Merlin has to take it up against an overgrown lizard and will probably lose.
“I don’t know, it shows up every once in awhile, babbles about coins and destinies and goes off again. I just assumed it meant my shining knight in armor –– I mean,” Arthur looked confused for a second, “never mind. Defeat. Dragon. You. Yes.” And he looks even less convinced.
All that business about coins and destiny sounds familiar, so Merlin leans out of his window and yells, “Kilgharrah!” at the top of his lungs and without any decorum. He knows there will be a lecture about dragonlords and their status and could Merlin please not shriek at him like a fishwife thank you, but Merlin doesn’t care. He crossed his arms and looked at Arthur, smug. “I command him.”
“You hollered?” a voice so deep the tower shakes, says. There is a great big yellow eye peeking into the window. “Ah, you found each other, then,” the dragon said and flies off again.
“I command you to leave!” Merlin yells after him when he’s already airborn. And then to Arthur, “See?”
Arthur doesn’t look impressed. “Alright,” he says, swinging one leg over the ledge. “Fly me down then. But you’d better be a good kisser to make up for those ears.”
As if on cue, they turn bright red.