When Arthur reached his rooms he was in a foul mood. He slammed the doors and ran his hands through his hair. Merlin was doing something or other in his chambers-he was past caring. Right now, he was mad.
“What, uh, what’s going on?” Merlin stuttered, unsure of whether he should even try to ask or whether he should run as if his life depended on it.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter; I nearly lost a fight to a stranger. It’s not right, I was just so mad, so, so…” Arthur ranted, pacing. Slowly his anger subsided as he thought about why he fought so hard. He couldn’t fathom a reason. But it was personal somehow, challenging.
“Would you like me to distract you, tell you what everyone’s talking about in the castle?” Merlin asked timidly.
“Yes” Arthur replied curtly. He didn’t really want to listen to idle gossip, but listening to Merlin blather on about something mind numbing would help.
“Well you’ll never guess. The King saw Guinevere getting ready to leave for the inn, he didn’t even know she was here!” Arthur pulled his hands down to his sides, stopped pacing and stared at Merlin with his mouth open. “Anyway, he...