Disclaimer: Sorry, still don't own them, but wish I did, or at least had Eoin's abs.
/
The morning came much too early, and for once he was awake when dawn hit. Merlin's body complained mightily as he opened his very sore eyes, and he groaned. He had to divide his time between Arthur and Lord Chillingham, and his mornings were going to belong to Chillingham until the end of this fortnight. The man had specified that he be up at dawn, and Gaius had told him on no uncertain terms that there was no way that he was going to be getting him up that early. Rolling out of the bed, he winced as his back twinged, and the bruises that had come with the whipping cried out in anguished fury. Pressing a hand to the bandages that encircled his torso, he swore to himself that he was not going to get himself into trouble today. He would be polite, and quiet, and conforming, and so help him, he'd be the image of the submissive servant if he had too. Anything was worth not getting whipped again.
Rising, he began to stretch and instantly stopped, the pull on his back reminding him sternly that he was more or less injured for the second time in less than a minute. Sighing, he reached up and gingerly touched his lip. It was scabbed over, and didn't hurt as much as yesterday, but his eye was still excruciatingly sore. He could open it almost the whole way, and the swelling had gone down, at least. With a sigh, he reached over and picked up the concoction Gaius had ordered him to rub on the bruises. It was surprisingly watery, and easy to rub in. After he struggled into his clothes, he slipped out of his room, being careful to shut the door quietly. Gaius was sleeping still, and Merlin frowned when he saw that the old man's eyes were swollen and red- he must have been crying. Grabbing a sandwich from the plate, he headed downstairs, filled with trepidation.
Time to fake it.
/
The room was almost pitch black when he slipped quietly inside. Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat softly.
"Do that again, boy, and my temper will be even shorter than it already is," a low voice warned from the vague direction of the bed. Admittedly, if he hadn't known who the voice had belonged to, he would have called it seductive. It was the kind of low, almost dangerous voice that made one feel like they were being slowly caressed, but it held a trace of warning- move too fast, and you'd find a knife at your neck. Merlin cautiously approached the bed where the speaker lay, already wary of what today would be bringing. He hadn't expected the man to be awake this early, and that definitely threw off his plan to get in, get out, and get away.
A low chuckle echoed in the room, and the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention and saluted. He stopped, unsure of what to do now. Did he do something wrong?
There was a pause, and then a softly spoken, almost smug, "You're learning."
Merlin swallowed hard, and lowered his head submissively. "I try, my lord." The term "my lord" came out choked. It felt like a betrayal, saying those words to anyone but Arthur, even if he was quite possibly the world's largest prat. It was just so…so hideously, twistedly, horridly wrong. 13 days,he thought desperately. 13 days, and the man is gone, out of my hair. I just have to last that long.
"Open the last curtain," he ordered. Merlin, after a bit of stumbling around in the dark, finally found the last window. Some scrambling against hard stone took place, but he eventually found the curtain and pulled it open, the red velvet soft and reassuring in his hands as he tied it out of the way.
A faint stream of golden light entered, playing with the dust motes that spun and twisted through the air, lighting parts of the room.
"Very good."
Merlin turned subtly, and watched as Lord Aden Chillingham rose out of bed at the other end of the room.
The man was, first and foremost, tall. Long bodied, gracefully limbed, and proportioned like a model of a much taller being than he already was, Chillingham stood easily 6'4", and was lithe as a man half his age, and muscled as heavily as any of the knights. His hair had silvered with age, not unlike Uther's, but it still retained a vivid reddish-gold that must have been beautiful in his youth, and no bald spots had yet shown themselves. He wore it long, an oddity among the courtiers, but Merlin could attest that it was the man's sole vanity- his room was disturbingly bare save for the two trunks he'd brought with him. The Lord didn't have much to be vain about. His body was a mass of scars, a testament of what the Northern Border could do to a man, the most notable being a huge, thick white line that stretched from the left corner of his collarbone to his right hip. Merlin was willing to bet that it had been healed by magic, though whether or not it was after the Purge he didn't know. His face was scarred as well, a mass of dips and swirls of old tissue in a plethora of colors- one was a brilliant red, another a vivid purple, and a short, white scar slashed down the center of his nose. He had probably once been an exceptionally handsome man but with the hideous scarring, and a terrifying temper, it was clear why he hadn't ever married.
Merlin dropped his eyes as the man came towards him, making no noise as his bare feet came into sight. He could feel eyes running appraisingly over him, and flinched when a huge hand slipped under his chin and forced his head up. Brooding, storm-cloud grey eyes bored into his, and he froze as the Lord examined him critically. His heart beat exploded in fear, pounding through him and making the wounds throb in disapproving pain.
Finally, a hint of a smile worked onto the border lord's face. "Gaius does good work," he said, clearly pleased. "I expected no less, of course, but this is truly exceptional."
Merlin frowned. "My lord?"
Chillingham smirked. "Go look in the mirror."
He released him, and gestured at the expensive glass that leaned in the corner. Merlin swallowed hard, and made his way through the half dark to it. Steeling himself, he looked into the mirror, and choked back a gasp.
There was no bruise around his eye, and none on his face. The scab was there on his lip, but the bruises were completely gone.
Impossible. He could feel the pain, and he'd certainly been aware of it this morning- he'd felt them. But the only other possibility was magic…but no. The risk was far too great for Gaius to be-spell something. He wouldn't do something like this knowing that Merlin could do without it. It would be so foolish…
"Merlin."
Merlin jumped, and turned. "My lord," he said quietly, looking at the floor even though his inner self rebelled at doing it. He hated faking his subservience, particularly to this man. If he'd had a choice, he would have magicked him out to the middle of Mercia, and naked at that. Preferably, he would have sent him to the middle of a patrol who were carrying very sharp swords.
"I'd like a pear for breakfast."
…A pear? The man wanted a pear? That was all?
"Anything else, my lord?" Merlin asked uncertainly, chancing a look upright.
Chillingham sighed, smiling wryly as he leaned against the wall. "It's an odd request, I know, but I really rather enjoy them. I also prefer not to have a large breakfast- make note of that."
"…Yes, my lord. I'll…I'll go fetch you a pear then," he said nervously. Chillingham nodded approvingly, and waved him off.
"I can dress on my own this morning. Bring it to the training grounds, I'll be there by then."
Merlin honestly couldn't believe his good luck. "Yes, my lord," he breathed, and left the room, trying not to appear rushed.
/
Once the boy had left, Aden let the smile fall from his face. Striding over to the wardrobe, he yanked open the doors and pulled out the red lacquered box from where it had been sitting on a shelf. The thing had been hideously expensive, but worth every groat- secret compartments were a wonder. Running his fingers over the carving of the fox emblazoned on it, he felt the click as the top became loose. Lifting the true lid, he plucked the tiny bottle of powder out of its depths, sighing with relief.
He allowed himself a smile, and returned the vial to its nest. It was perfectly safe, and who would even think to look for such a thing? The smile faded once again as he thought of Merlin, sharp eyed, sharp minded, too-aware-for-his-own-good Merlin.
It had been a stroke of bad luck, getting the prince's own manservant. Normally Uther just stuck him with the mindless brats he kept to service his own chambers, the ones that Aden had already trained to his tastes. But no, this time he'd gone and given him an unbroken whelp, a lanky, scrawny, untrained child. It was incredibly frustrating, not having a spy within Uther's innermost chambers to report to him, but if he could only break this one to bridle, well…The prince would have to do for now. But he'd lost control last night, furious at the lack of respect he'd been paid, and hurt the face, the most visible spot. He'd cursed himself blue for it, but what was done, was done. He could use more inventive means later. The boy would break- he'd been training his servants longer than the boy had been alive, and he had no intention of letting this one get away unbroken.
Now… To the training grounds, and more importantly…Uther.
With a smirk, Aden began pulling on his training gear.
13 days…
/
Merlin had chosen the best pear he could find, and was now watching in stunned awe as Lancelot faced off against the monstrosity that was Lord Chillingham. Unlike most court nobles, his armor was battered and scarred as he was, and he was good. It was nothing short of terrifying, knowing that even Lancelot was having to struggle against the tall man.
He jumped as a hand landed on his shoulder with the weight of one of the castle walls. "Arthur," he scolded as the prince came into view, "Quit that. Really, my shoulder's going to be dislocated one of these days, and then where will you be?"
"Laughing hysterically," Arthur said dryly. He looked at him closely. "Where're your bruises?" he demanded, looking utterly unnerved.
"I have no clue. Gaius is apparently very talented- they were gone this morning when I went to Lord Chillingham's chambers, but the pain's still fairly annoying, if nothing else," Merlin explained, glancing over to see Gwaine approaching, murder in his eyes. "Erm, Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"Might I humbly suggest that we take this somewhere else? It's just that Gwaine…If looks could kill…"
A slow, very dangerous smile crossed Arthur's face. "Why Merlin," he said almost smugly, "I do believe you've hit the nail on the head." With that cryptic comment, he walked off in Gwaine's direction. Merlin frowned, wanting to go after him. Unfortunately, he was still in possession of Lord Chillingham's pear, and he got the feeling that the man didn't like to miss his breakfasts.
He watched closely, however, as Arthur and Gwaine's heads came close together, talking softly to one another, and occasionally glancing his direction. They were clearly discussing him, and it was more than a little annoying not knowing what they were saying. He scowled, and stalked off to go sit by Sir Leon, who was nursing a dislocated shoulder for the second time in a week and therefore not allowed to practice.
"Morning," he said cheerfully. Leon looked grateful for the company.
"Good morning, Merlin. Lovely day, isn't it?"
Merlin grinned. "Of all the things to start a conversation with…But yes, it is quite nice."
Leon chuckled, gazing out over the knights, most of whom were watching the fight. "Lord Chillingham is certainly something else," he remarked. "The last time he was here, he took on Uther- definitely gave him a run for his money there."
Ah, perfect timing. "What do you know about him?" Merlin asked nonchalantly, leaning a bit closer.
"Aden Chillingham, first and only known child of the Lord Aquissance Pendragon of Kendral Fief, and the Lady Marcia Cavarel. Uther's first cousin- Aquissance was his father's youngest brother-, currently in line for the throne if Arthur dies, hates apples with a fiery passion, a fairly nice man as far as anyone knows, but there's been rumors that he abuses servants." Merlin flinched at that.
Leon continued merrily on. "I don't believe it for a minute though- he seems quite kind. He's a border lord, so he's incredibly tough, but that's to be expected. Never married, no relatives save his mother, who's actually here right now, but they aren't on speaking terms." He looked expectantly over at a wide eyed Merlin. "Anything else?"
"Y-ess," Merlin said, dragging the word out as his mind tried to comprehend everything he'd just been told. "Normally, what type of people serve him?"
"Normally Uther has one of his personal servants at Chillingham's disposal, but…" Leon looked warily around, as if Uther were about to pop up from behind a pile of shields, "He decided put you with him because he thinks you aren't as respectful to Arthur as you should be, and Aden's very good at getting people "respectful". That's what he said at council."
Merlin's stomach heaved. It explained so much- Others didn't know about the abuse his servants suffered because they'd been Uther's, and he'd seen how much attention gave his servants. What had they gone through, for the love of a King?
With a clang, Lancelot went flying backwards, landing on his back. There was a huge round of applause, and Chillingham began heading toward Merlin. He rose instantly, panic sealing his throat as the scarred face approached. With a trembling hand, he extended the pear.
"My lord," he said softly, and in the corner of his eye, he saw Gwaine approaching, and Arthur heading off to go help some of the younger knights.
Chillingham smiled at him, and plucked the pear from his hand. "Very nice. Thank you, Merlin. Oh, I'll want my shirts mended before you leave at midday. See that it's done."
Gwaine was getting steadily closer, an extremely fake smile fixed on his face. He was nearly there when there was a booming laugh, and a cry of "Aden, you managed to roll out of bed at last!"
Uther strode onto the field in armor, and half the jaws dropped. Gwaine froze in his advance, the smile dropped as he glowered furiously at Uther, who'd clasped Chillingham's arm and was pulling him towards the center of the field for a fight. Gwaine stalked over to Merlin, glowering at the two as they took up positions. "I don't believe it," he muttered. "I really don't believe it. Iwas going to do that."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "What, and kill him in the process?" He tried to keep his voice light, as if laughing.
Gwaine's eyes were cold as he watched the king parry a ferocious blow. "I live in hope, as the priest said to the priestess."
Merlin's anxiety returned full force and he clutched Gwaine's arm, pulling him away. Gwaine resisted at first, then reluctantly followed, letting Merlin lead him back to the castle. Once they'd slipped inside, Merlin leaned against a wall and said softly, "Maybe he was just having an off day. He hasn't touched me except in passing today, and once midday hits, I belong to Arthur. I'll be fine- We all just over reacted." It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Merlin had to try. He couldn't take it if Gwaine was well and truly banished again.
Gwaine growled, slamming his fist in the wall by Merlin's head. "Don't even try to tell me that. I've met enough people like him to know that when they hit someone, they'll do it again. You grew up in a border town, you know how people get when they're surrounded with violence…You've seen how they treat their women, their children…" His eyes unexpectedly softened, and Merlin's breath caught in his throat as the hand that had just slammed the wall gently cupped his cheek. "Merlin, I'd rather be dead than watch you go through that."
The look in his eyes, a soft, broken tenderness, terrified Merlin. He reached up, touching Gwaine's hand and leaning into the broad surface. "Gwaine, I can take this," he whispered, closing his eyes to avoid facing what he could see within them. "But I'd love to know what I ever did to deserve a friend like you."
The moment was ruined as the sound of footsteps approaching echoed in the hall. They jolted apart, warily looking around, faces flushed though they'd both be hard pressed to explain why.
The footsteps belonged to a servant, and Gwaine sighed, almost sounding relieved. They waited as the slim young page scurried past, and then looked back at each other. Merlin swallowed hard, lowering his eyes as Gwaine looked at him coolly.
"I promise I'll come to you if it happens again," he promised quietly.
Gwaine nodded, appeased. "Don't let him hurt you. Get out of it. Arthur and I are working on a way to get you out of here, but it'll take a few days."
"Gwaine," Merlin said, exasperated. "I can't just go haring off into the countryside. Uther specifically placed me with Chillingham to teach me a lesson- he's not just going to let me go because Arthur wants to go hunting."
"But-"
Merlin grabbed his arm and hissed, suddenly enraged, "Uther didn't even notice when his own personal servants were being tortured in front of him. You think he'll care one whit for me? I rather doubt it."
Gwaine's eyes widened. "His own-"
"Yes."
Gwaine's jaw tightened, and Merlin gulped as he was roughly pulled against hard chain mail in a hug. Gwaine's hand cupped the back of his head, his other being careful to keep from hurting Merlin's back. Merlin's heart thudded hard as Gwaine kissed the top of his head gently. The man was clearly awash with emotions, and Merlin was along for the ride, it seemed. Admittedly, he wasn't really complaining.
"Don't do anything to provoke him, okay?" He mumbled into Merlin's hair. "I think I'll have to kill him if he hurts you again."
Merlin, rather uncomfortably squished against the chain mail, couldn't help but smile. "Alright. I'll be careful."
"You'd better," Gwaine grumbled, and let him go.
/
Arthur was not exactly in a very good mood when Merlin finally appeared in his rooms around midday. Merlin gaped at the state of the room, somewhere between furious and exasperated. "Arthur! I was gone for half a day, and this is what happens?"
Arthur merely turned over and buried himself in blankets, unwilling to face his friend-ohlordhesaidit- at the moment. The room was absolutely trashed, it was true, but he'd prefer from that to going and killing Chillingham.
"Arthur, look at me," Merlin said tiredly. Warily, he lifted his head to see Merlin beside the bed, arms crossed. "I'll get to the room in a minute, but I want to know something."
"What?"
"You told Gwaine to go and fight Chillingham, and try and kill him, didn't you?"
Arthur's eyes flashed angrily. "Yes," he said shortly, and buried his head again. He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to think about it, and he didn't want Merlin thinking about it. Merlin was silent for a while, then sighed and walked away.
Arthur listened to the sounds of Merlin cleaning for a bit, then rolled over and watched him for a minute. He felt a stab of guilt as the thin man crawled about, gathering things before setting them on the table, touching his back every time. After 3 minutes or so, he sighed gustily, and got out of bed. Merlin said nothing, but smiled slightly as Arthur began tossing things on the table. The silence was comfortable, a nice change from the tension that had filled the air lately.
"How was today?" Arthur finally asked, unable to stand it any longer.
Merlin's smile went even wider. "Didn't even lay a hand on me," he said cheerfully, "Though he's incredibly rough on his seams."
Arthur rolled his eyes, but he knew he was smiling. "Good."
"No, not good! Do you know how long it takes to mend a shirt for someone that big?" Merlin demanded. "Ages, Arthur, ages!"
"You never seem to have a problem with mine," Arthur laughed, tossing a shirt at him.
"Oi!"