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Once upon a time—
“Oi! You there!” a tiny voice shouted.
Merlin looked up from his book and glanced around the tree he was sitting against, confused. There was nothing else but the pond in front of him and the surrounding grass.
Shrugging, he returned to reading the fairytale book in his hands.
…there lived a princess in the tallest tower of a castle—
“I said, you there!”
Merlin stopped reading again, annoyed with the interruption this time.
“Hello?” he called.
“Look down!” The same voice called out.
Frowning, Merlin did just that and scanned the grass by his feet. But there was nothing remarkable save for a little boulder jutting out beside him and an uncommon little frog upon it.
“Yes, right here!” The voice cried again.
And it belonged to the little green frog on the rock.
Merlin blinked, rubbed his eyes, and squinted at the frog. He must’ve fallen asleep at some point while taking a break from looking for herbs. So he slapped himself awake.
But he was still in the forest, cheek stinging painfully, with the frog still present.
It croaked in laughter and asked, “Did you think you were dreaming?”
“…You’re a talking frog,” Merlin said slowly.
“Well, I’m very real because I’m your prince, Arthur Pendragon, and you will regard me as such!” The frog, Arthur, demanded all haughty while puffing out his little chest.
“Then I must be hallucinating because I’m pretty sure the Crown Prince is a human and not a slimy frog,” Merlin said before belatedly tacking on a sarcastic, “sire,” at the end.
The frog gasped. “How dare you! I am not that slimy and I’m only a frog because I’ve been cursed!”
“Cursed?” Merlin repeated, reminded of the fairytale book in his hands.
“Yes, cursed! How many times do I need to repeat myself!” Arthur said, impatient.
“Well, you’re a talking frog,” answered Merlin, as if that explained everything.
“I can’t help it!” Arthur said with a terribly dispirited tone. Almost like whining. “I didn't ask to be this way!”
It sounded like this so-called Prince Arthur needed a lending ear. So Merlin decided to listen. “Alright, sire, how were you cursed to be a frog? What did you do?”
Arthur glared at him. “Why do you make it sound like it was my fault that I was cursed?”
“Well, according to this big book of fairytales,” Merlin said, raising his book for credibility, “curses happen to either beautiful and innocent maidens, or foolish and selfish princes. Since you’re not beautiful or a maiden, you’re obviously the latter.”
Arthur hopped up and down angrily this time. “I’ll let you know that I am the kingdom’s heart throb prince! And I am not foolish or selfish! All I did was laugh when an old hag asked me to help her look for her son, who happened to be a frog. Who knew that she was an evil witch that would curse me to be this—this disgusting frog too!”
“…You do realise that you sound exactly like someone that would be cursed,” Merlin said unhelpfully.
Arthur, who had stopped hopping earlier, went silent as his chest deflated. It was a moment before he said quietly, “I’ve been like this for three days now. I…I don’t want to be stuck like this forever…”
He spoke so sullenly that Merlin couldn’t help but pity him just a bit. Setting his book aside, he gently patted the frog on his tiny head in comfort.
Arthur looked at him with wide eyes that were unexpectedly cute, despite being frog eyes. And surprisingly, Arthur’s glistening skin wasn’t as slimy as Merlin thought it would be. Although it was still slimy.
“Did the witch say what you needed to do to break the curse?” Merlin asked.
Dazed, like he couldn’t believe Merlin was touching him, Arthur blinked slowly and simply said, “No.”
Seeing that the prince was looking and sounding better, Merlin withdrew his hand. “Well, I just so happen to know that in these cases, all you need is a kiss from a princess. That’s how these curses seem to be resolved.”
“You…you’ll help me then?” Arthur asked, waddling a little closer as if he hadn’t heard right.
Merlin raised his brow. “Isn’t that why you’ve come to me?”
“It’s just that…everyone I’ve approached screamed and ran or tried to kill me,” the frog said, all mopey and eyes downcast.
At that, Merlin’s heart softened. “Well, you’re lucky I can’t turn away someone in need. And if this isn’t a dream and you are the prince, then I may as well,” he said, shrugging. Besides, it wasn’t like Merlin was a stranger to phenomena such as magic, especially when he was born with it himself.
And, fortunately, he knew just where to find a princess.
Rising from his spot, he began to walk. “Now, come along,” he said, “it’s your lucky day. There’s a visiting princess in Camelot that just came in this morning.”
“Hey, wait!” Arthur croaked behind him, leaping and hopping to catch up. “You’re going too fast! Pick me up and bring me with you!” he demanded.
Stopping, Merlin sighed and turned around to chide him, “Is that how you ask for help, sire? With that tone, I wouldn’t be surprised if no princess ever comes to love you.”
Arthur actually looked stricken for a moment, then struggled to say, “…Would you pick me up… please.”
Merlin smiled and thought that even frogs could be endearing.
“Alright, sire, up we go,” he said and scooped up the little prince into his hands. Then he moved Arthur onto his shoulder so that his hands were free to carry the book and a bag of herbs.
“…You have no respect,” Arthur huffed, sounding put out beside Merlin’s ear.
“Respect is earned, my lord,” Merlin retorted as he carried on.
“There you go again,” Arthur grumbled, displeased, and adjusted his webbed feet on Merlin’s shoulders. “What am I supposed to call you anyway?”
“Merlin,” said Merlin.
“And where do you work in the castle, Merlin?”
“I’m apprenticed to the Court Physician, Gaius.”
“To Gaius? Why have I never seen you around before?” Arthur demanded.
Merlin had only come to Camelot not long ago, sent here by his mother to learn how to control his magic. Reasonably, there would’ve been few chances to encounter Arthur, but that didn’t stop him from teasing the small prince.
“My esteemed lord,” he began, feigning hurt, “you’re always on your high horse so who says that we haven’t met already and you just don’t remember a lowly subject like me?” When in truth, Merlin was actually a sorcerer in magic-banned Camelot and actively avoided crossing paths with royalty, for the less contact he had, the better.
Arthur huffed. “You’d be in the stocks by now if we met.”
“In your state, you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. Prat,” Merlin mocked cheerfully.
“And I’d have remembered your insolence!” Arthur cried, smacking his little fore feet all over Merlin’s cheek.
Merlin only laughed harder as they continued on their way.
Back in the castle, Arthur was deathly silent as they passed anxious knights, servants, and even the king. Everyone looked oddly at Merlin and the new companion that he brought back but did not question him.
Their priority was their missing prince, who had suddenly vanished three days ago, and they rushed about carrying out search orders and bringing updates.
“You’re right under all their noses!” Merlin whispered in amusement, slipping on by.
“I should send a letter to my father and tell him that I’ve gone on a secret border patrol,” Arthur murmured thoughtfully.
“And write with what? Your little webbed feet?” Merlin couldn’t help but tease.
“…You’re going to help me,” Arthur tried to growl but it came out as a low, rumbling, croak. “…Please,” he reluctantly added.
“You’re learning,” Merlin chuckled.
So they snuck into Arthur’s royal chambers, wrote a letter in his words through Merlin’s penmanship, and sent it to the king, who seemed appeased enough to stop the search within the hour. Then they focused on getting Arthur to meet the visiting Princess Vivienne.
“Look, there she is,” Merlin whispered behind a tree.
Princess Vivienne was playing by a pond in the castle’s garden, throwing a golden ball up and down without a care in the world.
“Hmm, if only we could give you a reason to approach,” Merlin murmured. Then had an idea.
He quickly glanced at Arthur sitting on a log watching the princess. With the prince’s attention elsewhere, Merlin whipped his head back to Princess Vivienne and let his eyes flash gold.
The ball that she threw high in the air veered slightly off course and fell not back into her hands, but splashed with a “plop!” into the pond beside her.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “My favourite ball!”
At the same time beside him, Arthur gasped out, “Sorcery!”
Merlin stiffened and reluctantly turned back. Arthur was looking straight at him, eyes wide in a way that meant trouble.
“I’m telling my father on you!” Arthur whispered fiercely. “You’ll burn on the pyre!”
“It was for your own good, sire,” Merlin whispered sharply back, crossing his arms. “But if you want to be an ungrateful prat, go on and tattle! I’m sure your magic-hating daddy will be convinced by a talking, fly-eating frog over a humble and loyal human servant.” Then he loomed, overshadowing Arthur, and added meanly, “If you really want to be turned into roasted frog legs, be my guest. I hear they taste like chicken.”
Arthur feebly croaked.
“Now that that’s settled,” Merlin said, satisfied, “you have a fretting princess over there in need of some help,” and pointed at Princess Vivienne kneeling by the pond.
“You could retrieve her ball and ask for a favour in return,” he suggested. “I’m sure she’ll be grateful and help you. Just remember to not be yourself. And don’t be creepy or rude.”
“…Thanks for the faith,” Arthur muttered, seeming to accept Merlin’s magic for now, and took a deep breath in. “Alright, here goes!” Then he bounded out behind the tree.
It turned out that wooing Princess Vivienne was not the best idea. Nor was she the best choice of princesses, for she was selfish and narcissistic. And wanted nothing to do with Arthur, who had retrieved her ball and was thrown against a tree as thanks.
“Ugh, she’s horrible!” Arthur complained after, once he recovered enough. Slumped miserably on Merlin’s shoulder, he continued to gripe, “She wasn’t grateful in the least! All I wanted was for her to pucker up and kiss me. What’s so hard about that?”
“…You deserve to be a toad,” Merlin muttered, shaking his head as they headed to his chambers this time.
“I’m a frog, not a toad!”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Same difference.”
“Frogs are cuter!” Arthur argued, smacking his feet on Merlin’s cheeks again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin quipped, laughing as he entered the empty physician’s chambers that led to his.
Arthur crawled off his shoulder and onto his head. “You’re not looking at me properly!” he said, haughty, leaning over with his forefeet all over Merlin’s forehead before staring at him upside down.
“…You have to look at me,” Arthur demanded in all seriousness.
Merlin glanced up at him, surprised by his insistence and the underlying desperation in those words. He carefully took Arthur off his head and held him in his palms.
“Alright,” he said patiently, “I’m looking at you.”
“Am I not cute?” Arthur pouted, sitting obediently and looking up with full-on shiny eyes.
Merlin felt a pang in his heart and hesitatingly admitted, “I suppose you are…”
“Then am I a frog or a toad?”
Again, there was a pleading innocence to Arthur and Merlin wondered why he needed such confirmation. Perhaps this prince, used to being good-looking, must need some boost in self-esteem.
“…A frog,” he relented.
“So I’m a cute frog?” Arthur asked, eyes bright like he held the stars in them.
Merlin couldn’t take it anymore and covered him with his hands. It was a little embarrassing to say so much already and, honestly, how could a pratty prince in the form of a frog be so adorable?
“Well, would you look at the time!” Merlin said, voice pitched slightly higher than before. “I’m starving and I’m sure you are too.” Then he plopped Arthur on a nearby work table and dashed out. “I’ll be back with dinner!” he shouted over his shoulder and didn’t hear Arthur’s reply.
That evening, Merlin brought back bread and soup for himself, and a bowl of critters for Arthur. Who looked disdainfully at it.
“I do not eat flies or bugs,” he said, glowering up at Merlin from the table top.
“Then what have you been eating for the past three days?” Merlin asked, breaking his bread. “Was it not exactly that?” he teased.
“I, I… haven’t eaten,” Arthur whispered, not looking at him.
Merlin suddenly realised how hard being a frog must be for the once spoiled prince and felt for him. He pushed the unappetizing bowl of critters away and slid his bowl closer to Arthur.
“It’s not much,” he murmured, “but you can have some of mine.”
The bowl was shallow enough that it wouldn’t be a problem if Arthur were to lean over it and the soup was cool enough not to burn. He looked up at Merlin, blinking slowly without even so much as a “ribbit!”
Then Merlin remembered that beneath the frog’s appearance was actually a prince. And that he was offering to share his measly meal with him.
“I’m not going back to the kitchen for something else!” Merlin said, feeling his cheeks heat, embarrassed once more. “And don’t expect me to spoon feed you either!” But he did break his bread into smaller, teeny tiny chunks and let it soften in the soup.
“...Thank you,” Arthur murmured and moved closer.
If frogs could cry, Merlin would think that there were tears in Arthur’s very wet eyes. But frog eyes were always wet.
Arthur leaned over the bowl and carefully darted his tongue out for a piece of softened bread. He swallowed, winced, and then looked at Merlin again, who chuckled bemused.
“Is it not to your liking, my lord?” he lightly taunted before wagging a spoon at him. “Well, you’re not getting anything fancier than this and you’re going to need to eat more for the energy to woo princesses, you know.”
That goaded Arthur into finally eating again, as did Merlin, and dinner peacefully passed.
By the end, Merlin was surprised by how Arthur’s little belly bulged, despite how little the prince ate, and thought the increased roundness was rather endearing. His heart swelled just a smidge as Arthur crawled slowly, very slowly, up Merlin’s arm to his shoulder.
“...You can’t laugh at your prince,” Arthur said, petulant.
Merlin didn’t realise he had been laughing. “You’re just awfully cute for a frog,” he said playfully, gently poking Arthur’s round belly with a fingertip. “How did I ever mistake you for a toad?”
“Hmph, that’s right!” Arthur said, puffing out his chest proudly. “I’m the cutest frog!”
“I didn’t say that,” Merlin chuckled under his breath, but Arthur didn’t seem to hear, or chose to ignore it, and they both got ready for bed.
“I’m not sleeping in that box,” Arthur complained, right in the middle of Merlin fixing up a makeshift bed for him.
“Well, I’m not running back and forth just so I can deliver you to your royal bed!” Merlin complained back.
“I just meant that I’m not sleeping in that box,” Arthur said from the bedside table.
Placing his hands on his hips, Merlin sighed deeply. “Then where, my lord, do you expect to sleep at this time of the night? Do you need a lilypad? Perhaps some wet mud?”
Arthur glanced at the small cot in the room.
“...No way,” Merlin breathed.
“Why not?” Arthur piped up, sounding a bit hurt. “Am I too… disgusting for that?”
Merlin sighed again and shook his head in defeat. “No one said you were disgusting—”
“The king’s ward called me unsightly, my head knight tried to stab me, and the maid I had a crush on just cried until I let her be,” Arthur said, pouting again.
“…Well, this isn’t a matter of you being disgusting or not,” Merlin gently said. “It’s a matter of…propriety.”
Arthur blinked, confused. “But…I’m a frog.”
Merlin squeezed his temples together with his thumb and forefinger. “But I know that inside you’re a prince,” he tried to stress.
“...That doesn’t seem to bother you when you called me a prat, or ‘sire’ and ‘my lord’ with the most insincerity I’ve ever heard,” Arthur retorted.
“...Fine,” Merlin muttered, scooping Arthur up, “you can sleep in my bed.” If they argued anymore, it was going to become too awkward anyway, so Merlin let it be. “But no snoring! Or right in the box you go!”
“I do not snore!”
“How would you know?”
“A prince does not snore!”
“But you’re a frog right now.”
“…Frogs don’t snore either!”
Merlin snorted and tucked himself in, with Arthur on his pillow beside him. Then they continued to argue, bickering about this and that, until they both fell fast asleep.
👑 🐸 👑 🐸 👑 🐸 👑
For the next couple of days, the two spent much of their time together as they tried to figure out which other princesses could be induced to visit. Their bond grew with each adventure they had, including Arthur having to be rescued from a pair of hungry snakes that lived in a not-so-valiant knight’s shield. And Merlin being saved by Arthur in turn, who struck the eye of the same knight with his long, lethal tongue (so that Merlin wouldn’t be run through by a sword).
In the meantime, with great gratitude and increasing fondness, Merlin continued to share his food and bed with the frog prince, letting him eat from his plate and allowing him to sleep on his pillow.
On the third day that this happened, Merlin woke up to not tiny webbed feet plastered to his cheek and neck, but to a warm, naked body pressed to his on the small cot.
Merlin’s heart nearly shot out of his chest and he kicked the man—who was obviously a man with his private bits all squished against Merlin’s hip—out of bed.
“Wh-what’s going on?” The blond man said, struggling to rise from the floor.
“Who are you!” Merlin shouted, pointing a shaking, accusing finger at him. “And what have you done with Arthur!” And then looked around, horrified— “Wait, where is he?”
Afraid that Arthur had been accidentally squashed somehow, Merlin pulled up his pillows and blankets but saw no sign of his green little friend.
He shot a glare at the man on the floor, who was wiggling his own fingers and toes like he was surprised he had any limbs at all. Then the man turned his wide, blue eyes over to Merlin. And grinned like mad.
“I’m human again!” he cried, laughing, his flaccid manhood dangling about as he jumped to his feet. “The curse is broken!” And leapt onto the bed to crush Merlin in a hug.
“Wh-what? Arthur, is that you?” Merlin spluttered, not knowing what to do with an armful of a handsome, butt-naked prince.
“You’ve shared your plate and bed with me for three days and three nights,” Arthur said as he leaned back, pouting. “Don’t you recognize my voice?”
Now that Merlin was listening, he did. And now that he was looking at him, he recognized those plump pouty lips and deceitfully innocent eyes that rivalled that of snuggly kittens and puppies.
Arthur was indeed the kingdom’s missing heart throb prince.
“Oh,” Merlin said, dumbfounded.
“Looks like I don’t need a princess, or their kiss, after all!” Arthur beamed, happy as can be.
“I suppose,” Merlin murmured, unsure of where to look—there was just so much skin.
“All I needed was just… you,” Arthur murmured, rubbing his cheek against Merlin’s shoulder.
“You were the only one that accepted me for who I was, taught me humility,” he continued, then gave him a side-glance before smirking, “and even thought I was cute.”
“When you were tiny and green and could fit in my hands!” Merlin protested, shrinking away. “You’re not so cute now,” he mumbled, flushed, although he thought the very opposite.
“Merlin,” Arthur said seriously, shifting so that he held Merlin’s hands in his. “Don’t you understand? You’re my princess. You’re more noble than any I’ve ever met with a bigger heart than all of them combined.”
A flutter unsettled Merlin’s stomach. “What are you trying to say?”
“I mean to marry you, Merlin,” Arthur replied with a charming smile. “Will you do me the honor of saying ‘yes’?”
“B-but we’ve only known each other for three days! And we just bickered for the majority of that!”
“It’s called banter, Merlin,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes, “and it was quite an adept seduction, I must admit.”
Baulking, Merlin cried, “I wasn’t trying to seduce you!”
“But you have my heart,” Arthur pouted. “Do you mean to throw it away?”
“Well, I…”
Arthur's shoulders suddenly drooped. “Or is it that you don’t feel anything for me at all?”
Heart aching at the sight of the sad prince, Merlin quickly shook his head. “No, no! It’s not like that at all!”
Arthur perked right back up. “Then you’ll wed me?”
“But I'm just a peasant. I have magic,” Merlin mumbled every excuse he had, looking down at their held hands. “And I’m a man.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Arthur assured, lifting Merlin’s hand to kiss the knuckles there. And smiled sweetly at him. “I marry for love.”
Not wanting to keep refusing, for he felt affection toward Arthur’s personality from day one, Merlin allowed himself to be swayed and shyly agreed with a smile.
Then for the next few months, the two overturned laws, shook the kingdom with their deep love for each other, and married happily ever after.
The End