Charms
Arthur didn’t want to be interested in the bracelet. But it was from Merlin, a gift to Arthur’s evil twin sister for their eighteenth birthday. He glared at it, sitting there amongst her other gifts. All he’d got from Merlin was a rolled up pair of socks. Probably ones he didn’t want himself. It wasn’t that Arthur was jealous, it was just that Merlin was his friend.
Morgana, the smug minx, leaned across him and picked it up. “Lovely, isn’t it?” she purred. “Merlin says the charms all have a meaning. This one, the sword, is for strength, invulnerability.”
“It’s just a stupid bracelet, Morgana.”
She ignored him. “The dragon symbolises wisdom.”
“Wasted on you then. What’s the stick?”
“It’s a wand. It symbolises magic. Honestly Arthur, have you never read Harry Potter?”
Her brother rolled his eyes. “A book. As if!”
“Ah, I forgot you’re practically illiterate. There are films too.”
“Not enough fighting in them. What’s the book one for, Harry Potter as well?”
“It’s a spell book, it goes with the wand. Obviously.”
“And the heart?”
“What do hearts always symbolise?”
Betrayal, apparently. Sneaky behaviour, pretending to be interested in Arthur when all he wanted was to get closer to Arthur’s horrible, treacherous, vile, beautiful sister. She’d even pushed her way out of their mother first so that she would be the older one, and had insisted on bossing him around ever since. Typical. He glowered at her.
“He gave me socks.”
Morgana regarded him for a moment, then shook her head. “Oh Arthur, you’re such an idiot. How are we ever related? Did you even look at them?”
Socks didn’t bear looking at. Socks were the sort of present that, if given to you by someone you thought was pretty much your boyfriend, you threw at said might-be-boyfriend in disgust. After all, they were in a convenient ball and just the right shape and size. They’d bounced off Merlin’s stupid head just nicely and landed somewhere. He looked around, wondering where they were now.
“Under the table,” Morgana sighed. “Tell me you weren’t rude to him.”
Arthur didn’t answer. He was too busy unrolling the socks, which were a tiny bit heavier than they should be, he realised now. A silver chain, dogtags attached. They’d been engraved, one with a declaration of love, the other with a question.
“Shit.”
Morgana peered over his shoulder. “I told him it was no good being subtle with you. Or clever. So he tried being funny instead. I’d start with an apology, then dinner. Maybe try flowers too.”
“He’s not a girl!” Arthur was already halfway out of the door, and knew he was going to try the flowers anyway.
“He’s far too good for you!”
Didn’t he know it? He broke into a run.
Morgana, the smug minx, leaned across him and picked it up. “Lovely, isn’t it?” she purred. “Merlin says the charms all have a meaning. This one, the sword, is for strength, invulnerability.”
“It’s just a stupid bracelet, Morgana.”
She ignored him. “The dragon symbolises wisdom.”
“Wasted on you then. What’s the stick?”
“It’s a wand. It symbolises magic. Honestly Arthur, have you never read Harry Potter?”
Her brother rolled his eyes. “A book. As if!”
“Ah, I forgot you’re practically illiterate. There are films too.”
“Not enough fighting in them. What’s the book one for, Harry Potter as well?”
“It’s a spell book, it goes with the wand. Obviously.”
“And the heart?”
“What do hearts always symbolise?”
Betrayal, apparently. Sneaky behaviour, pretending to be interested in Arthur when all he wanted was to get closer to Arthur’s horrible, treacherous, vile, beautiful sister. She’d even pushed her way out of their mother first so that she would be the older one, and had insisted on bossing him around ever since. Typical. He glowered at her.
“He gave me socks.”
Morgana regarded him for a moment, then shook her head. “Oh Arthur, you’re such an idiot. How are we ever related? Did you even look at them?”
Socks didn’t bear looking at. Socks were the sort of present that, if given to you by someone you thought was pretty much your boyfriend, you threw at said might-be-boyfriend in disgust. After all, they were in a convenient ball and just the right shape and size. They’d bounced off Merlin’s stupid head just nicely and landed somewhere. He looked around, wondering where they were now.
“Under the table,” Morgana sighed. “Tell me you weren’t rude to him.”
Arthur didn’t answer. He was too busy unrolling the socks, which were a tiny bit heavier than they should be, he realised now. A silver chain, dogtags attached. They’d been engraved, one with a declaration of love, the other with a question.
“Shit.”
Morgana peered over his shoulder. “I told him it was no good being subtle with you. Or clever. So he tried being funny instead. I’d start with an apology, then dinner. Maybe try flowers too.”
“He’s not a girl!” Arthur was already halfway out of the door, and knew he was going to try the flowers anyway.
“He’s far too good for you!”
Didn’t he know it? He broke into a run.