I’m too Gryffindor for this lol. This is probably not what you wanted but this is what happened, so whelp. Bit long but I hope you enjoy!
You hated Merlin. But he was busy and you were nearby and damn him for taking no time at all to drag you to Arthur Pendragon’s bedchambers and beg you to clean up before the prince noticed anything amiss. So there you were. In Arthur’s bedchambers. Cleaning up after the prince. Alone.
It wasn’t too hard a job. Arthur was a bit messy, but it was all just thrown clothes and leftover breakfast, which were no trouble at all to clean. You were nearly finished when you realized there was a sword laying abandoned under his bed. Who loses a sword? You picked up the blade and grimaced at the weight. Upon inspection, you realized it well sharpened and upkept. Perhaps hidden rather than lost? It didn’t matter. You decided to put it back right when the door opened with a loud bang.
You reacted on instinct rather than thought. In a matter of moments you strode to the foot of Arthur’s bed—toward the danger, not away—and held the blade out as though challenging the offender. It was heavy enough that you had to use two hands. You had no training with a sword. You had tried out daggers before, but never a sword like this one, so heavy you could barely wield it. You hadn’t yet comprehended who had come in before your sword met another, it arced and flew out of your hands, and you were pushed back onto the bed where you fell.
The air didn’t clear until a sword was leveled to your throat and you recognized the wielder as none other than Arthur Pendragon himself. His expression was one of surprise rather than hatred and it wasn’t until that moment that it occurred to you that he likely reacted on instinct just as you had.
“I promise this isn’t what it looks like,” you managed to say.
Arthur shook his head slowly. “Y/N?” he asked. “What—what are you doing here?” He looked hopelessly confused, but the blade remained firmly leveled to your throat.
“Um,” you began, throwing an obvious glance at his sword. He hastily moved back and sheathed his weapon, an embarrassed blush settling on his cheeks. “I was just cleaning,” you continued. “Gaius sent Merlin out on chores. It was faster if I did it. I, um, didn’t mean to point a sword at you?”
“Right,” Arthur nodded. “Yes, of course. You were cleaning. Because you’re a servant. And I didn’t mean to point a sword at you either but—” Arthur cut himself off. “Why were you pointing one at me again?”
“You surprised me,” you quickly put in. “I was just about to put the sword back. The door banged. I thought you were an intruder.” You blushed and straightened yourself, moving a few steps back.
Finally, some of the tension in the room settled, understanding dawning on both parties. You did know the prince, of course. You ran into him at times, he had asked for a couple of favours in the past. Merlin was always talking about him too. And Arthur was kind to you, or as kind as a prat of a prince could really be.
Arthur’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed and he took a step closer to you. “You thought I was an intruder?” he repeated. You nodded confirmation. “But I saw you. You heard me come in and all but charged for me. If you thought I was an intruder … Y/N, why not run?”
You blinked. That was one of the last questions you had expected. “Oh. Um, generally someone breaking into the prince’s bedchambers isn’t a good sign. They could be dangerous.”
Arthur sighed impatiently. “Yes, obviously. So why not run? Or hide? It’s like you said. It’s dangerous.”
You finally realized what he was getting at and shrugged. “What would happen then? I might be safe. Or I might be found, but let’s pretend I got away. The intruder gets what he came for. Keys to the dungeons or the vault maybe. A jewel or two. Then they run about the castle, kill a few other servants along the way. If I don’t alert a knight in time, they make it all the way to the dungeons and they let prisoners go, and then more people die. Or they take a magical artefact and all of Camelot is at risk, or—”
Arthur crossed the distance between you two and put his hands on your shoulders. You fall silent.
“Y/N,” Arthur sighed. “I know what the risks are. I know that intruders can be dangerous. But surely you know that protecting Camelot is not your responsibility? You could’ve been killed if it wasn’t me who walked through that door.”
You took a step back and his hands fell from your shoulders. “I can’t stand by and watch people die,” you said with narrowed eyes. “I won’t. A-and maybe I’m not so good with that sword. But I have to try.”
Arthur shook his head. “No, you don’t. You should run. Protect yourself.”
“Is that what you do?” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself.
“It’s different,” Arthur denied, his voice raising. “I’m the prince and I’m a knight besides. It’s my job to protect Camelot.”
“It’s not different!” you argued. “You’re not the only one allowed to protect people—”
“I don’t want to see you hurt, Y/N!”
You froze. Arthur was breathing heavier and took another step closer. “What?” you managed to say.
When Arthur put his hands on your arms, you didn’t stop him. “Look, you could’ve died today. You don’t even know how to use that sword, Y/N. And I-I don’t want to see you dead or injured, especially not on my behalf. You’re too—you’re just—” He fell silent, unable to articulate what he meant.
“O-okay,” you stuttered. “But I can’t just stand by. If there’s a next time I mean. I can’t. Not even—” you blushed “Not even for you.”
Arthur ducked his head down for moment, tightening his hands on your arms just slightly. “I know,” he sighed. “So I guess we’ll have to start tomorrow.” He abruptly let go and stepped back, heading for the table where he began unbuckle and put his sheathed weapon down.
Your head was spinning from the change of pace. “What?”
Arthur shot you a small smile and leaned back on the table. “Well, any Defender of Camelot needs to know how to use a sword.” At your shocked silence, his smile dropped just a tiny bit. “And I suppose I’d feel better if you knew how to defend yourself.” He cleared his throat and looked away.
You couldn’t help but smile too. “In that case … okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You headed for the door, only pausing to pick up the fallen sword and toss it onto the bed. Just before you left his room, you stopped. “And Arthur? Thank you.”
