Today should have been a good day, a fun one, well as fun as one could be cleaning up after Arthur. But fate had other plans for Merlin.
Running up multiple flights of stairs within the castle, Merlin ran into the small cloak cupboard that was left open and quickly (but very quietly) shut it behind him.
At this point in time, Merlin really did deserve to be called Camelot's biggest idiot.
Still, Merlin was hunched over with his hands on his knees attempting to get his breath back which in all honesty hurt.
His dark raven hair was a complete mess, a crimson coloured flush covered his cheeks and upper body from physical excursion, he could already feel his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably.
He should really start working out or at least do something to raise his stamina, Merlin thought bitterly.
It was the day of the grand feast, to celebrate Arthur's stupendous victory in one of the many tournaments in which men hit each other recklessly until there was only one man left standing.
Merlin wouldn't be surprised if Arthur had lost brain cells, a lot of them, during his time smashing other people for 'fun' and ‘honor’.
Hopefully he would partake in less of them in the future, after all, Camelot’s ‘Once and Future King’ couldn’t be a simpleton.
However, this wasn't a normal tournament winning, certain events had occurred -as per usual- making this particular win more triumphant.
Merlin let out a particular long sigh only to clamp his own hand over his own mouth as he heard multiple footsteps running past his cupboard.
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