Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, nor do I own this story, which you'd know if you'd read the summary. Well I do own it, but it's a version of someone elses... you know what I mean!
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The next day, at a celebratory feast for the end of winter, he came to me as I sat watching my knights get more and more inebriated. He slid gracefully onto the seat at my left hand side. I looked up and smiled, as he slid closer, his fingers brushing fleetingly on the back of my hand. He pulled my plate, which only held a small pile of grapes now. "Watch," he said softly.
I raised my brow in question, as he intoned a charm under his breath and made a careless motion with his hand.
He pushed the plate towards me. Every single grape was frozen, a thin layer of frost speckling the skin. I looked at him in surprise. A new spell, I mouthed silently. He nodded, a smile curling his lips.
I laughed, unable to hide my joy. It's been something he'd been working on for ages, and it's a secret we shared. He knew he was capable of creating his own spells, just like his ability to command the dragons – it was a matter of control and focus. And control and focus had been his obsession for some time now.
At those evenings and nights we spent together, learning, practising and perfecting our individual skills and talent, him his magic and me my swordsmanship. We complement each other, that's what Gaius had said more than once. In a way, he encouraged our relationship, little did he know the true extent of said relationship – and if he did, he never voiced any objections.
I couldn't say the same for the rest of the kingdom though. But it mattered not, for my attention was drawn back to the present, to the seemingly innocent pile of grapes before me, and his low chuckle. I looked up and our eyes met. I felt a warm flush, that had nothing to do with the alcohol I'd consumed, suffusing my cheeks as his eyes bore into mine. I watched, mesmerised, as he picked a grape off the cluster and held it towards me.
"Close your eyes," he said, his voice low and seductive. The tone sent a thrill up my spine and I shivered.
Common sense told me to take the fruit from his fingers, but obedience and drunkenness won. I closed my eyes and parted my lips, submitting to his command. I could almost see his trademark smile as he leaned closer and slowly placed the fruit in my mouth. His fingers brushed against my chin, and his thumb stroked my lower lip albeit fleetingly.
"Honey," I whispered as I opened my eyes. "Tastes like honey."
He nodded in amusement and fed me another. The inane chatter of the guests faded into the background. He continued feeding me, one chilled grape at a time, his fingers brushing against my skin – by design or accident I no longer cared.
Why did I feel so articulate and clumsy when he's around? I have no idea. All I knew was that it took a lot of my self control that I possessed as King not to reach out and touch him, especially in public. But I so wanted to, and shouldn't a King get what he wants? I wanted to be able to touch him in that intimate manner, not the usual backslapping and horseplay that the knights were to do between friends. I wanted to be able to reach out and claim him as mine and mine alone. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and lay his head upon my lap – to hell with what the other think. But I refrained.
He smiled.
My resolve melted.
My hand crept unbidden to rest on his knee. He shifted, it was almost unnoticeable, and I realised that he was using his body to block the view from curious eyes, protecting me and my reputation. Again. Our eyes met and I could see the mischief blazing in his startling blue eyes, and I felt my face flush with the stirrings of desire.
Emboldened, I ran my hand slowly up his thigh, then back down to his knee.
Time melted into insignificance as we got lost in our own perfect, private world. My hand moved on its own accord getting bolder each time. He gazed coyly at me and dodged playfully when I tried to feed him a grape. I gave a low chuckle and gripped his chin; I leant in close and whispered suggestively, "Grapes make you taste sweet."
He laughed.
A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. I felt the blood rushing to my face. I couldn't help it – not when he looked at me in that way. I averted my eyes and pretended to be absorbed in the wood patterns on the table. He laughed lightly and I felt my blush deepen.
A loud cough shattered our idyllic exchange. I looked up and scowled. His hand closed over mine, stilling it on his knee even as he turned slowly to face the newcomer. His expression became closed, and his eyes glinted coldly.
Brown hair, bad skin. He delivered his message tersely, Lord Edward would be retiring early as he wasn't feeling well and he's sorry that he had to leave the festive feast. I nodded and passed on my own message wanting to be rid of him quickly. As he left I thought I saw a flicker of rage on his face, but I couldn't be sure. A chill crawled up my spine, foreshadowing the future.
I stood up in my chair and held out my hand. He let himself be hauled up and made a show of straightening my clothes. I chuckled and adjusted his neckerchief, my hands lightly brushing his chest. I smiled, and took a step closer; I linked my fingers through his and leaned close. He turned his face, his breath moist and warm on my lips. I shivered as his free hand skimmed over my back, and rested on my waist.
He stood as if frozen, acutely aware of the dozens of eyes watching us. Slowly, deliberately I planted a kiss on his temple. His eyes slid shut, his face suffused with pleasure as his breath warmed my skin. Then he kissed me back. It was chaste, but it was clear.
He had publicly staked his claim on me. And I him.
And I know that I would never give him up.