Hello dear readers! Because of massive loads of work, we completely forgot to update our stories. So here it is, chapter 7. We hope you enjoy!
Arthur
Arthur sinks onto his bed with a sigh of mingled exhaustion and relief. He's still fully dressed and his clothes are dirtied from riding, but he doesn't care. The sheets will be washed in the morning anyway.
He tries to muster up the energy to change before actually sleeping, but his body won't comply. He wishes briefly, in the midst of his tired mind, that he'd made Merlin stay long enough to help him.
The thought is quickly banished though when his dream from the night before suddenly slams into his mind, full force.
Strands of gossamer memories float in his mind. The soft sounds Merlin made when Arthur nipped at his neck. The feel of his fingers, desperately gripping Arthur's shoulders. The softness of his lips as he brushed them against Arthur's before delving in deeper with his tongue.
He shoves the thoughts viciously aside, trying to reassure himself. "It was nothing! Just a dream."
But the very recent memory of his entirely inappropriate urge to stroke Merlin's cheek when he'd dismissed him minutes before was enough to disprove that desperate theory.
His hand had risen to Merlin's face of it's own accord, bare centimeters from his porcelain skin. Luckily Merlin flinched away, snapping Arthur back to reality.
He doesn't even know what he's going to say to him in the morning. Probably nothing. He'll just go on as though nothing unusual happened. As if the lingering stares and illogical action on his part where nothing out of the ordinary. Merlin probably hadn't noticed it anyway.
But the memory is still enough to make Arthur want to bang his head against the wooden headboard. However he rallies all his maturity and doesn't indulge himself.
Instead he lets his body fall back, across the bed, telling himself that he would just rest for a moment, then ready himself for bed.
His mind wandered over the past few days and he found himself wondering how the whole thing had gone so wrong. Just a week ago they'd set out in full splendor, ready to prove to the neighboring kingdoms that Camelot was still a mighty and just land.
Marriages would be arranged among various courts to form alliances. Treaties would've been signed and Arthur would've been officially welcomed as the new King of Camelot in the eyes of all.
Now he lay, exhausted and befuddled with his plan in ruin. He had injured knights, ill used supplies and now these ridiculous urges to shove Merlin up against the nearest solid surface and - No!
He forcibly cuts his thoughts off there, sitting upright with a sudden determination. He quickly sheds his shirt, forcing his mind away from the ghostly memories of Merlin doing the same a dozen times over.
He desperately steers his thoughts towards the future. A messenger has been sent onto Aurora but what of the other kingdoms? Would they hear of the delay as well? What would be said? Was he to be made a fool of?
If so he has no one to blame but himself. Abandoning the mission for the sake of a servant boy.
Not even for his sake really, but for Arthur's and the foolish unnamed fear that lingers in his peripheral. As if Merlin is something precious to be guarded and something someone might steal away from him at any moment.
Stupid, unprecedented fears. Merlin is nothing special and no one is interested in taking him. Besides Merlin is his and no one would dare take something of the king's.
A sudden clarity of the contents of his thoughts brings his mind to a crashing halt. His?
Since when does he think of Merlin as his? His servant certainly, to order about. To vent to and depend on. But not to be posses in this manner, with fierce dominance to own. But that's exactly what he wants to do he realizes.
He wants Merlin to be his entirely. To posses, to absorb every inch of his being. To be upon his waking thought every morning and his yawning breath at nightfall.
He wants to know that every breath Merlin laughs is for him. That the bright grin never graces another's presence. He wants Merlin's voice to caress his name in a way that makes it clear to all that hear, that Merlin is his.
With a sudden fury at the betrayal of his own mind Arthur hurls a furious kick to the legs of his table and swears as a violent pain jolts through his leg.
He inhales deeply, trying to negate the throbbing in his foot. "Now I'm never going to sleep." he grumbles.
Then a wonderful thought strikes him. He can go to Gaius. He can get something for the pain and ask for a sleeping tonic as well, without raising any suspicion. A full night's rest will surely give him a clear head.
It's not until he's nearly at Gaius's doors that he realizes Merlin will be inside as well. Steeling himself, and praying Merlin's already asleep, he raises his hand and softly knocks.
Merlin
Merlin is roused from his sleep by a soft, almost tentative knock on the door of his and Gaius' quarters. Sitting up slowly, rubbing the last remains of sleep out of his eyes, he realises that it's still dark. It must be in the middle of the night. Who would be knocking on their door now?
Gaius hasn't woken yet, so Merlin pads over to the door, trying to stifle a yawn. If it's nothing too serious, he might even be able to help whoever it is without having to wake Gaius. There's more knocking and Merlin lets out a grumbled "Coming" before opening the door.
Arthur.
Merlin freezes, as does the king, and they stare at each other in silence. Hundreds of thoughts whirl through Merlin's head, but they are all silenced when the king looks him up and down slowly before looking Merlin straight in the eye. The warlock barely gets out an "Is everything alright, Sire?" before Arthur's gaze darkens and he pushes the door open, shoving Merlin back in the process.
Merlin barely has time to regain his balance when Arthur grabs him by the shoulders and all but shoves him with his back against the wall, pressing his body flush against Merlin's. The warlock lets out a yelp – both in surprise and in pain – but then the king's mouth is on his.
Merlin can't move, can't breathe, can't think. He stands frozen, not responding when Arthur all but pries open his mouth and ravishes the warlock's mouth with his tongue, his hands rubbing and squeezing Merlin's shoulders and upper arms. Arthur is kissing him. And Merlin loves it. He loves the way Arthur's mouth tastes, the slow and languid movements of his tongue against the roof of Merlin's mouth, the sounds his king makes as he pressed himself closer...
The warlock gasps and puts his hands against Arthur's chest, shoving him away. "Arthur, don't," he says, but the king only grins and grabs Merlin's wrists, pinning them next to his hips before attacking Merlin's neck and throat with his lips. "I want you, Merlin," he growls and the warlock feels his knees go weak at those words, those words he only ever hears in his dreams and he is very tempted to close his eyes and let Arthur do whatever he wants to do to him.
But then he realizes that the Arthur he knows, who calls him an idiot and saddles him with the dullest chores he can come up with, would never touch him like this. Something is off and he tries to break out of the king's grip, but Arthur only holds onto him tighter, grinding his hips against Merlin's thigh. "Want you, want you, need you," he murmurs between open-mouthed kisses against Merlin's exposed collarbone, pausing to let his teeth scrape over the pale skin of the warlock's shoulder.
Merlin panics. He has to put a stop to this, whatever it is, no matter how much he enjoys the king's ministrations. Pushing Arthur away is out of the question, as is calling for help. Which leaves…
The warlock grits his teeth, trying not to loose himself in the sensations again, and looks around in the room. His gaze lands on a small kettle Gaius uses to brew potions and tonics. I'm sorry Arthur.
He closes his eyes and calls forth his powers.
~oOo~
Gaius carefully lifts one of Arthur's eyelids and hums. "What is it?" Merlin asks, fighting the urge to step forward and join the physician at Arthur's bedside.
"His pupils are very dilated," Gaius mumbles, closing Arthur's eye again carefully and righting himself. "I suspect he's under the influence of some spell or potion, but I can only guess at the supposed effects." He pauses, lifting Arthur's hand to check his fingertips. "I don't suspect it to be poison or something lethal, but I can't be sure."
"But he will be alright?"
"If we can find a way to cure him, I don't see why not," says Gaius, gazing at the thick ropes that secure Arthur's wrists to the bedpost. Neither of them was comfortable with the idea of restraining Arthur, but after tonight's events, there is no way of knowing what Arthur will do when he wakes up.
~oOo~
Merlin yawns and flips another page in the large book Gaius handed him before leaving to fetch a couple of knights. The physician explained that Arthur is most likely under the influence of some strong infatuation or madness, which is why the knights must be informed. However, there are thousands of spells that could have such an effect. Finding the right one is key, but this book is so long and boring Merlin can barely keep his eyes open.
The young warlock is so engrossed by his reading that at first, he does not notice Arthur stirring. It isn't until the king lets out a grunt that Merlin looks up, just in time to see Arthur open his eyes and look around in bewilderment.
"Arthur!" Merlin exclaims, leaping out of his chair and over to his friend's bedside. The king blinks, as if he tries to make sense of what's happening, but then he gazes up and their eyes meet.
"Merlin," Arthur purrs, trying to get up but being held back by his bonds. Merlin puts a hand on the king's shoulder, urging him back down as not to hurt himself, but it only makes Arthur thrash more violently. "Merlin, release me, please. I want to touch you."
The warlock bites his lip. "I'm sorry, sire, but I can't." He gets up slowly, starting to back away. Arthur frowns at this and pulls at his bonds, clearly frustrated when they don't budge.
"Merlin, release me right now!" When Merlin doesn't respond, but takes another step back, the king starts to plead. "Merlin, please, don't go. I need you Merlin. I want you. Come back, stay with me, please, please." Arthur's struggles become even more erratic and the frame of his bed starts to shake, but Merlin doesn't approach him. He can't, not when Arthur is delirious. He can barely bear the sight of him.
What follows, however, is enough to make his breath hitch.
"Merlin, please… I love you." The warlock freezes, looking at Arthur in disbelief, who stares right back at him. "Please, let me go," he coos.
Merlin can't believe it. Arthur can't have said that. It's the spell talking, he reminds himself, but the way Arthur looks at him, the plea clear in his eyes… it makes Merlin's heart yearn.
The door opens and both Gwaine and Percival stumble into the king's room, followed by Gaius. "What is the meaning of this?" Percival bellows, his gaze fixing on Merlin, then Arthur, "Why is the king tied to his bed?"