I'm so sorry! I just fail. At life. It's been one of those weeks, ya know? Anyway, I know I promised I'd let Merlin reveal a secret in this one but... well, I lied. It just seemed too close to the whole "talking" thing, and I actually need to work that all out before the secret scene.
So *deep breath*... I'm ready. *screws eyes shut and braces for impact* Commence the throwing of objects of the fruit and vegetable persuasion.
For the couple people who recommended songs for me to get stuck in my head, here are your virtual cookies *holds out platter*.
I hope this chapter clears up some of the confusion the previous one left you with.
Arthur woke as the mattress dipped beside him. He felt a hand on his arm, giving a gentle nudge. Arthur blinked his eyes open to find Merlin peering down at him. The moonlight trickled through a crack in the curtains, shining off of the boy's wide and watery eyes. Arthur was glad to see that Merlin had put his trousers back on.
"Nightmare?" Arthur asked, voice hoarse with sleep.
Merlin nodded, fidgeting his hands nervously.
Arthur scooted over and patted the bed beside him. "Get in."
Merlin scrambled under the covers, pressing his cold, shivering body to Arthur's side.
Arthur wrapped a protective arm around his shoulders as his eyes drooped back closed. A tentative hand came to rest on his chest.
"L-Love?" asked Merlin, tapping one finger.
Arthur nodded, eyes still closed. "Yes, Merlin. You protect and comfort those you love."
After a moment's hesitation, he felt Merlin press even closer. Arthur smiled as he drifted back to sleep.
….
Merlin rested his head on Arthur's shoulder, picking at a loose thread on the collar of the Prince's nightshirt. A single beam of morning light broke through the curtain, illuminating Arthur's hair to a brilliant gold. Merlin had woken before him and took the time to study his Ma-Arthur.
He thought about the events of the day before. He knew what Sir Daniel had wanted to do to him was wrong, but Arthur told him it was wrong for anyone to do that. He claimed that wasn't really love.
Merlin thought back to all the times with his previous masters. While they had used the term "love" many times before, during, and after, he realized that none of them had actually called it love. They had told him it was a reward, a treat, a privilege. And one master had even used it for punishment. That was Merlin's least favorite master.
But Merlin could remember his mother saying she loved him, when he was little. Her love was similar to what Arthur was telling him. He had always felt safe and comforted in his mother's arms. He could even remember his best friend once blurting out that he loved him when Merlin had given him a bug he'd found (he really wished he could remember the boy's name).
Was Arthur right? Had his masters really not loved him? The thought hurt Merlin, in a disturbing way he couldn't explain.
So far Arthur had done the complete opposite of all of his other masters. Arthur had clothed him, while before he was not allowed even a small cloth to keep his decency. Arthur had removed the collar, which before had only been taken off to replace it as he outgrew the previous one. Arthur let him bath, didn't beat him, fed him regular meals, allowed him to sleep in a bed, even gave him a room. And yesterday when Merlin had spoken, instead of gagging and whipping him, Arthur had seemed happy, excited.
Merlin wiped angrily at his eyes as tears began to burn them. He felt so lost and confused. Everything he knew was slowly being unraveled.
He no longer knew his place in the world. Arthur didn't treat him as a slave, but Merlin knew he was not the same as everyone else. Even as a child, he was different. His gift, as he remembered his mother calling it, his secret. One thing Merlin could remember very clearly about his mother, was her saying he mustn't tell anyone. His masters had only found out when, during one of his second master's "games", in which he would see how long he could torture Merlin before the boy passed out, Merlin accidently set the man's trouser leg on fire. He had nearly been beaten to death for that, and his master then used the knowledge to raise the price for Merlin when he decided to sell him.
There had always been an accident of some sort with his masters. Most of them realized his secret, but a couple of them had remained oblivious, including the one who sold him to Arthur.
Merlin wondered what Arthur would do if he knew. Would he accept Merlin? Would he harm him or send him away? Or maybe he would kill him?
Merlin turned his head to glance up at the still sleeping Prince. He didn't believe Arthur would really kill him. But then again, until last night, he had believed his masters had loved him.
He sighed, burying his face into the warm fabric over Arthur's shoulder.
He just wasn't sure what to believe anymore.
….
Arthur sat sprawled in the fur covered chair placed at the center of the table. He had been watching Merlin move quietly around the room, completing the daily tasks Arthur had set for him. Arthur sighed inwardly. He had woken with Merlin still tucked up against his side, but the boy had quickly scrambled off the bed when Arthur stirred. And he had not said a word all day yet.
"Merlin," said Arthur, staring at the boy.
Merlin only glanced at him from where he sat, polishing the Prince's armor.
"What happened, Merlin?" asked Arthur. "You were so talkative last night."
Merlin eyed him carefully, before giving a small shrug.
"You do know you are allowed to talk, right?"
Merlin glanced at him again, only this time his expression was troubled.
Arthur sighed. "Let me guess. Your masters did not allow you to speak?"
Merlin nodded.
Arthur groaned internally. "Well, I am rescinding that order and telling you that you can and will talk. So speak."
"What about, sire?" croaked Merlin.
Arthur pushed down the feeling of guilt for ordering Merlin to talk, and instead focused on the joy of hearing the boy's voice. "It's Arthur. And I don't know... How about we talk about you? How are you feeling?"
Merlin ducked his head and returned to his polishing. "F-Fine."
Arthur arched an eyebrow. "Just fine?"
Merlin nodded.
"Did you sleep well?"
Merlin shrugged.
"Use your voice, Merlin."
"Slept fine," he whispered.
Arthur stared at him, brow furrowed in thought. How was he going to get Merlin comfortable with speaking again? An almost evil grin crossed his face as an idea struck him.
"Merlin," he began, waiting until the boy made eye contact. "I think today you should work with Gwen. I'll have her teach you how to mend shirts and socks and such." He finished as he stood from his chair and headed towards the door.
"Sire?" asked Merlin, his voice uncertain.
"Arthur," repeated the Prince, before sweeping out of the room to go find the maid.
Pathetically short, I know. On the bright side, Thanksgiving break begins on Wednesday afternoon! So hopefully I will have time to work on this while I'm home. Since I will not be one of those people in a turkey-induced coma. I hate turkey. It's so nasty.
And lastly, I leave you with this: http: / / www. youtube. com / watch ?v=YqBVjQAETdI
Because it makes my day. Every. Time. I still wish we had hired a guy who looked like this to sing at our concert. I mean, don't get me wrong. Our guy was great. Giacomo. He's one of those people of Italian decent, with the warm, olive tan skin tone, the winning smile, and the thick, perfect hair that he'll prolly have until he's 80. But really, you can't beat this old dude. He's just too much.