An Ocean Blue

by inane-rational

An Ocean Blue verse'. Criminal Empire/Prostitution AU. Arthur is the heir to his father's criminal empire. Merlin is a resident in one of Pendragon Syndicate's brothels. Together they're a story of trust, love, murder, deception, and secrets.

6. Within a Sea of Red: Part 3

Part 3

He squeezes the pendant so the shape will imprint into his palm, imagining the small object digging under his skin. The leather sofa has probably molded to the shape of his body. It's the first time he's ever laid down on this piece furniture for so long.

When Merlin closes his eyes, the darkness behind them is still tainted with the red of the room. He thinks of blood, a slow blossoming on a shirt as it feeds off death. Sometimes he can feel phantom hands clamping down on his throat, or Edwin getting off on his struggle. He can always feel the weight of the lamp in his hand, and the twitch of his finger.

The memories choke him and the emotions that bubble within rock him to nausea. When he feels the presence of another in the room, his body itches to vault over the sofa and hide beneath. If he isn't skinny enough to fit, he'll make himself squeeze in.

"Merlin," Arthur announces, pacifying his desire to run.

He doesn't say anything in return and Arthur doesn't mind, taking a seat by his feet. Merlin expects Arthur to say something else, but maybe the Syndicate heir has run out of words.

He wishes this wasn't the time. The silence is deafening, too much like being alone. And he doesn't like being alone with his demons.

"I heard gunshots," Merlin stutters, voice raspy from the bruises on his throat. He hadn't known what had happened afterwards when Edwin was pulled off, but he'd been told by worried residents. "I mean other people heard gunshots. They told me there were gunshots."

He clamps down on his mouth to shut his chatter, seeing Arthur giving him a raised eyebrow at the repetition. Merlin can feel tinges of embarrassment, but for some reason he needs to tell Arthur what had happened-his side of the story.

Everyone tells him a lot of things, calling to check in after hearing about the incident. Some voice their support while trying not to be invasive, and others carefully try to satisfy an instinctual curiosity. Nonetheless, they all call in because no one has ever tried to murder one of their own in the Avalon.

It's plain insanity. Merlin can see now that Edwin had echoed cavernously with it.

It had taken a while for the medics to calm him down, with the broken remnants of the bedside lamp shattered to pieces in a waste basket. He should have asked for the last bits of garbage to be taken out, but Merlin hadn't had the desire to toss it, unlike the bed sheets that had also been shorn to pieces by his hands.

He makes sure to look at Arthur to begin his story.

The discomforting tickle that had been bubbling in his throat had ripped out when the medics had come near. It had careened on into a scream of rage from a fury Merlin hadn't known was inside him. He'd begun ripping into the sheets, tossing the pillows, and throwing the second lamp at the nearest medic. The man had luckily moved out of the way, or Merlin would probably have had to explain to Cedric later why he'd injured other members of his staff.

When Cedric had come by later, Merlin had been almost unable to recognize him. He'd never thought he'd see the man's pale pasty skin go whiter and more sickly, hands shaking, with prickles of sweat beading on his brow when he'd tried to question Merlin about the events with unsteady nerves. Cedric had stumbled on words and stalled, and making Merlin wonder who had really been worst off at that moment.

Now, Arthur snorts at Merlin's description of Cedric, and Merlin has the sudden epiphany of why the manager had appeared and acted the way he did. Cedric would have been with Arthur, where the security had taken Edwin into the manager's office. Arthur would have done it there.

A shiver goes up his spine, and Merlin will have to internally search for the cause of it, but Arthur is prompting him to continue with his retelling.

So Merlin does, describing how Cedric had tried to regain ground, asking a stream of jumbled questions which Merlin hadn't been able to get his thoughts around to answer. It's probably why he'd dished it all out at Gwen when she'd come striding into the room.

"I'd never met Gwen before," Merlin says with reverence, reliving the memory of her charging in, and her cry of distress when she'd seen him. At first he hadn't put it together, an unfamiliar face acting like a worried friend. Merlin had jumped back in fear of the unusual woman wanting to hold and comfort him.

"I recognized her by her voice," he says to Arthur with glee.

When Merlin had backed away, Gwen had realized her mistake. She'd taken a step back, putting her hands up to make a calming motion.

"I'm sorry. I should have known you wouldn't want…" she'd trailed off.

She'd said something further but Merlin hadn't listed, instead entranced by the phone operator in front of him. Never once had he ever put a face to the voice of the woman who had always talked to them kindly and sweetly, despite their particular business environment.

But now he could. Now whenever he called the operator, he would be able to see the mocha skin, curly black hair, and the face as kind as her voice.

"I'm sure I went to her first. I think I cried, I'm not really sure," Merlin says. He thinks he remembers the feel of wet streaks down his face. The most important thing had been the warmth of Gwen's hold and the hand rubbing at his back, like how a mother would comfort her child. It's a fitting analogy for Gwen, who takes care of all the residents at her desk, mastering the switchboard.

"What are you doing here?" Cedric had cut in. "You're supposed to be manning the phone lines."

"I'm here to check on Merlin. I heard—"

Merlin had looked between the both of them as Gwen had halted her words, like they were literally stuck in her throat. Cedric and Gwen had looked away at the same time, opting not to say anything.

"I wanted to make sure Merlin was okay," Gwen had continued.

Cedric had given off an almost manic despairing laugh. "Of course he isn't okay. A client tried to kill him, and a Pendragon had to come in personally to…solve things." Cedric had wheezed out in panic, becoming more reedy with each word. "I need you back in your place!"

Gwen had turned to stare him down, saying, "I'm going to stay here for a bit with Merlin."

"No! You need to be at the lines!"

"If you want someone working at the lines so much, you do it," she'd commanded, "instead of standing there yelling at me and being completely useless."

Merlin chuckles, looking at Arthur's matching smile. But it quickly wanes, and he sadly adds, "Gwen's going to get fired because of me."

"Don't worry about it," Arthur says with a knowing look. "Do you remember one of my men I told you about, Lancelot? He and Gwen have been an item for a few years now."

"Really?"

"My men have accompanied me here a few times. It seems they meet then. Cedric can't fire her."

"Because you say so?" he asks, wanting a solid affirmation.

"Because I say so."

"Okay." Merlin is quietly pleased, happy knowing Gwen hadn't cost herself a job because of him, while Arthur nods, confirming a silent promise.

"And what have you been doing these past few weeks?" Arthur asks, pulling Merlin back to the present. He chooses to stay silent rather than describing the lethargic way he's been going about eating, pondering, and sleeping on the sofa.

There's a sudden shift of weight on the bed, and Merlin doesn't move as Arthur leans closer to him to run a hand through his hair. This close he can smell the gunpowder on his fingers and thinks of Cedric's sickly look, spouting about a Pendragon solving the problem. He's curious about the specifics of Arthur's involvement.

"People are saying a lot of things about you," Merlin starts off, hoping Arthur will bite without much struggle.

"Like what?"

"Some people think it was you who saved me," Merlin looks at Arthur, "or that you sent Edwin to kill me." Laughs trickle from both of them at the latter rumour, despite the morbidity. Merlin finds himself backpedaling, wondering if he really did need to know what Arthur had done.

"I know that last one would never happen," he says with a mixture of guilt and something else—something that makes Merlin's heart beat faster. He shies away from his curiosity about it, and the only thing he has left to say is a heartfelt, "thank you."

Arthur doesn't say anything in response, but leans down to place a kiss on the top of his head. Merlin doesn't mean to flinch but he curls in on himself either way, and it makes him feel even more guilty to fear his saviour.

"Don't worry about it," Arthur says, again somehow omniscient to his thoughts. Hands run down the length of his body in what's meant to be a comforting gesture, but all Merlin can feel is the lingering bruises around his neck. He doesn't think it's his imagination. Despite his discomfort, he lets Arthur do what he wants.

"What's that you're holding?" Arthur asks.

"What?" Merlin looks at him in confusion.

"In your hand?"

He looks down at his clenched fist, surprised that he had forgotten about the pendant and hadn't hid it away.

Gaius had said not to let Arthur know, with warnings about Uther's unending wrath being the strongest point of reason. At times he wonders if Arthur would report to his father if he knew about Merlin's family history. Merlin can't see a reason for him not to. Much like a king, a Syndicate leader's word is law, and Merlin knows Arthur follows his father's word with the barrel of his gun. Even the gun had been ordained by his father, given to Arthur at a young age.

Yet Arthur hadn't had to save him from Edwin. A prostitute from the streets satisfying his carnal pleasures doesn't receive that sort of kindness.

He's aware of dissatisfaction from Syndicate members that Arthur chooses to spend his free time with him, even if the Avalon is considered neutral grounds. And now Arthur had killed someone at the brothel. Even if people learn that the victim had been a serial killer preying at the different brothels in the city, there had been a breach in the unspoken contract made between the criminal organizations.

Arthur had breached that to save him, and in the end Merlin owes Arthur. He's already given his body, as well as his heart, he can willfully admit. His family is all he has left.

"It's my mother's." He opens the palm of his hand, showing him the small pendant almost indented into his skin.

"Your mother," Arthur repeats, with clear interest and a profoundly wistful tone that garners Merlin's attention.

There's a pain in his face that Merlin's never seen Arthur wear before, nothing like injuries from a shoot-out or a bar brawl.

"Yeah," Merlin puts his hands forward so Arthur can see, "it was given to me when I got here."

"Who gave it to you?"

Even though Merlin is willing to tell Arthur about himself, he can't risk Gaius. "Someone," he said with as much finality as he can.

Arthur doesn't press the question, only nods as though it's an acceptable response. "What do you know about her?"

"Honestly, I don't remember much. Only feelings."

"Describe them to me."

"Warm," Merlin struggles to say, starting and stopping for a minute before finding one word. He racks his brain for more, but dishearteningly he can't think of anything else. The only feeling left is his yearning for it, yearning for something more even than Gwen had provided those weeks ago.

His eyes begin to sting, his body hiccupping as he tries to withhold whimpers, and without warning he breaks. "I want my mom."

He laughs at the ridiculousness of the statement. It sounds absurd. He's in his twenties and has lived on the streets with other degenerates like himself for most of his life.

But he needs her now.

When Merlin turns to Arthur, he looks lost, which makes him laugh even more, because Arthur looks exactly how he feels.

"I feel stupid for saying that," Merlin admits.

"You don't have to." Again, Arthur sounds so wistful that Merlin thinks Arthur does understand, even if he doesn't know what to do about it.

Merlin takes the next few moments to calm himself down with Arthur's hand resting in his hair, playing with a single strand.

"I want to make you exclusive."

The words cut through Merlin's despair. "What do you mean?" He sits up and looks at Arthur, trying to see and understand the weight of Pendragon's words.

"It means only I'll get access to you. No one else can buy your time."

"Can you do that?"

"What can't I do?" It's a touch of cockiness that almost makes Merlin roll his eyes, but Arthur's seriousness makes him carefully think over the offer.

An offer to shelter him within the Avalon as Arthur's, personally—what would that make Merlin? If he isn't making money for the Avalon providing for various customers as a resident, then what is his purpose here? There's one term from the streets that he could apply to himself if he took Arthur's offer: a kept boy.

The words rankle against his will. He's never liked the idea of it, to be kept in a nice cosy apartment waiting for a single person to come by and play whenever they get bored. You have to pray that they don't get bored of you, or that their spouse doesn't find out. But thinking of it from that perspective, it's not too different from his life now. Maybe he just doesn't like the idea of catering to and depending upon one person, of placing the entirety of his existence in someone else's hands.

Merlin doesn't doubt Arthur. It's only a gut feeling, but it weighs down like a rock that Arthur wouldn't get bored of him, or leave him high and dry. He wouldn't be here now, checking on him, if he's going to do that. Arthur's commitment to his tasks and the people he surrounds himself with are the motives that drive him.

But if Merlin becomes exclusive to Arthur, what would that make him? A sheltered kept boy with bruises on his neck, hiding from the people he once spread his legs to. He isn't weak. He can take care of himself, had done it long before living at the Avalon. Maybe the brothel is making him soft, dulling all his street smarts and instincts. Maybe he already is a kept boy.

It's probably how Edwin gotten the jump on him. If Merlin had still been hustling on the pavement , he would have instantly said no to a man like Edwin. He would have instantly backed away at the first sign of trouble.

Merlin doesn't want to be kept safe. He can't allow himself that when he still owes Arthur his life. Arthur had gone beyond what any client would normally do for him, even the ones who continually make declarations of love during sex. Merlin needs to return the favour.

"I'm sorry, but no." He imagines that under normal circumstances, he would find Arthur's astounded look to be hilarious. Instead, he feels almost like he's rejecting him.

"Why?"

Merlin moves to sit properly on the sofa. "If I'm going to be exclusive—" he doesn't want to make this sound like an eye for an eye, "I want to help you in some way."

"Help me with what?" Arthur quickly cuts in, looking at him curiously, "Merlin, you don't owe me anything. I'm offering to keep you safe."

"I'm not weak," Merlin says lowly, pulling away from Arthur's hands. He ignores Arthur, creating a space between them.

"I never said you were. But if another incident like Edwin happens—"

"I can take care of myself," Merlin interjects more loudly, imploring Arthur to listen.

"Really." While the condescending tone could be taken as their usual banter, it sets him on edge. Merlin grits his teeth, having no problem showing his anger towards Arthur.

"Fuck you. I can take care of myself. I'm not your pet. I don't rely on you to feed me and house me! I don't need you to protect me!" Merlin takes a glass of water that had been on the table and throws it at the opposite wall. The shattering of glass does nothing to satisfy him. "I could have taken him. I would have gotten him before…I—" Merlin heaves a cough, his voice going hoarse from the shouting. He notices that he's sweating like he's run a mile, and the pinpricks of tears create a film over his eyes because he refuses to let them fall. What he notices most is that Arthur, who hadn't moved an inch during Merlin's tirade, is focusing his attention on Merlin's hands.

He can feel one finger twitching uncontrollably, and instantly closes his fist to stop the odd spasm. Merlin doesn't want to look at Arthur.

"Who was it?" Arthur asks.

"Who?" He feigns ignorance, despite knowing Arthur isn't fooled.

"The person you killed. Who was he?"

"What makes you say it was a he?" Merlin says, purposely being cheeky.

"Merlin," Arthur curtly admonishes.

"He was a john that got too rough."

"Did he choke you?"

Merlin looks at Arthur in surprise. The Pendragon heir is resting his elbows on his knees, giving Merlin all of his attention, and is completely calm despite Merlin's unusual outburst.

"Yeah," Merlin says slowly, "How'd you know?"

Arthur stands up and pats the cushion he was sitting on. "Sit down, tell me what happened."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Merlin is too worn to resist and does as he's told, resting on the warmed seat.

"Any way you want. But it'll be better if you get it off your chest."

Arthur's advice doesn't help. Instead, Merlin finds himself struggling to say anything. One of his legs rapidly bounces up and down and when Arthur speaks, it makes Merlin jump.

"Was it the first time you held a gun?"

It takes a few minutes for the question to register. "No," he begins, then immediately clarifies, "But I'd never fired one before. Someone just wanted to show off their piece." He wishes Arthur would stop looking at him, because it makes his skin crawl, ill at ease. Arthur must know he's ready to bolt, because two strong hands clamp down on his shoulders as the Pendragon sits down on the coffee table across from him. Their knees slot together and Merlin begins to knock on one of them with his own.

"He was choking me, didn't even realize it at first. The asshole was trying to rip me off of my money, so I got mouthy. Then it was just, bang!" His fist hits the flat of his palm, and the memories and feelings begin coming back. "Right up against the wall."

"That what happen?"

"I was able to get away for a bit. Kneed him in the crotch. I don't know how you Syndicate types fight it out, but you don't fight clean when you're working the streets."

"I know."

"But then he caught me—"

The force had been like being clipped by a speeding car, sending him flying onto the bed when the john tackled him. The sheets had been wet with sweat, and he'd scrambled to get off and away from the weight on top of him. He'd been flipped to face his attacker, the man spewing spittle as he'd pulled his fist back and landed a punch on Merlin's face. The pain had exploded in waves across his face, and he'd yelled for help, thinking the john was planning to beat him to death. That's when hands had wrapped around his throat.

That feeling of choking is the most visceral thing he remembers, and he'd never liked the sensation of something around his neck afterwards. Even though he has to get used to people touching that area, if someone wraps one hand, no matter how gently, around the curve of his neck, he always panics.

"I was beating his arms with my hands, but I might as well been hitting a wall. I was starting to see these dark spots popping in front of my eyes, and…I just let myself go limp." The first tear rolls down his face, and he keeps himself turned away as much as possible from Arthur.

"When I let go, I remember my hand brushing against the gun." He laughs sardonically. "It was holstered at his hip like some stupid cowboy. I just reacted."

His hands had been quick to reach for the gun and he'd easily pulled it from the holster. The john had backed off him instantly, hands in the air, looking at his weapon in Merlin's hand. Merlin hadn't been able to see straight, but he'd had enough strength left in him to raise the gun once more when the john had taken a step towards him.

"Son, how 'bout you put that down?"

As Arthur knocks back against Merlin's knees, Merlin laughs madly into his hands, having a fit. The only other contact between them is Arthur's hand on Merlin's other knee, meant to be comforting.

"You shot him then," Arthur says, finishing the story.

Merlin nods, finally looking up at Arthur. He doesn't care if the mucus running down his nose makes him look unpleasant, or if his eyes are bloodshot from crying—he needs the answers only Arthur can give him. "How'd you know?"

"I've noticed a few things about you since you pulled a gun on me."

Merlin thinks back to his very first appointment and his freak out, trying to figure out what Arthur had seen. "When you put your hand around my neck?" Merlin asks Arthur, then adds, "that's easy."

Arthur carefully reaches out two fingers, holding them mere millimeters from his neck. There's a buzz that follows the path the fingers take as they go up, and then back down to rest at his adam apple. "That actually took me a while to get. Took me some time to understand why the hell you freaked out on me."

Merlin watches as Arthur leans closer, puffing a warm breath on his neck that makes him shiver with pleasure and curl up on the inside.

"Don't." He's shaking uncontrollably.

"I won't," Arthur whispers, quickly placing a kiss on Merlin's cheek, before backing away. "It's my gun that I took notice of first. You seemed…at ease with it in your hands."

"I don't remember feeling at ease."

"You weren't, but I know when someone's used a gun before. Especially when they've killed." Arthur grabs one of Merlin's hands, holding it up between them at face level, and begins to massage his index finger. "You know have a tic? There's times where this finger here twitches. This is the one you'd use to pull the trigger."

He is aware of it, though he'd never thought of it as some sort of tell. "What else?"

"The third thing was when you asked me what it was like to kill a person."

He frowns, realizing how obvious in retrospect. "Oh?"

"It's the way you asked it. You looked like you were expecting me to give you some divine answer—tell you how you're supposed to feel and react."

"Is it really that easy to see?"

"I know what to look for."

Merlin supposes Arthur would, surrounded by guns and the Syndicate all his life. Sometimes Merlin had known when someone was giving their goods for the first time, working on his block. There had been an uncertainty in their actions, either too shy or overacting their confidence. While he's not sure if it's the same thing, Arthur does know what it's like to kill someone, and Merlin knows too.

The worst of it has always been that he doesn't feel as guilty as he think he should. One reason for that is that Merlin knows that the john would have killed him. He would have choked Merlin till his neck was wrung dry and his purpled face faded out to a deathly pale.

Pulling the trigger had been easy, but running from the memory is hard. He'd played it over in his mind to the point where he'd had to block it out if he wanted to pay the rent. The ease of killing a person had made him nervous holding a gun, but there's an equally strange sense of power when he remembers holding one in his hands.

He isn't a killer; the john's death hadn't satisfied him. Yet it had made him feel safe.

Merlin wonders what it's like for Arthur. Murder is almost part of his business. He'd work and one day inherit a Syndicate, give orders for competition to be eliminated or threatened, and, knowing Arthur, handle things personally if he had to.

Merlin's father had worked for the Pendragon Syndicate too, for Uther. Had his father followed Uther's orders, like Arthur's men follow his? If Balinor had been his father, did the ability to kill run in Merlin's blood?

Asking himself the question is too awkward to comprehend. Merlin doesn't even know what the man had looked like. He can't possibly find the answers to those questions. The john's death replays in his mind, and he wonders: if he'd been quicker with the lamp, would the blow to Edwin's head have killed him?

"Do you think it runs in the family?" At Arthur's questioning gaze, he reiterates. "Do you thinking it's easier for certain people to kill?"

"I'm not sure how you want me to answer that."

"If you don't know, just say you don't know."

Arthur laughs at Merlin's sudden sassiness.

"I don't feel guilty. I don't feel bad about killing him," Merlin says quietly.

"I know."

"But I'd rather not do it again."

Arthur grabs a couple of tissues and wipes at Merlin's runny nose and the tears. When he's done, Arthur cradles Merlin's face in his hands and examines him, before pulling him in for a kiss. Merlin responds to the warm mouth and wet tongue, moving in tandem with Arthur and pulling him closer so they can be flat against one another. The few minutes that they make out feel like hours, and calm him down, distracted by the feel of Arthur against him.

"Be mine."

Merlin can only smile at Arthur's tenacity, because he's already set on what he wants. "I don't want to be exclusive, Arthur. I want help you, do something for you. I can't do it if you keep me to yourself."

"I get what you're saying, but no."

Of course, Arthur would be stubborn about it. He'll stamp his feet about it if he has to, but he isn't going to yield. "You can't force me."

"I'm not-" Arthur starts loudly before pausing. He starts again, more calmly, "I'm not here to fight you."

"Then why are you here?"

"To see if you're okay."

"Really?" Merlin knows he's being childish, but having Arthur continue to deny him irks him a little. He can do it. He doesn't want to be a bird in a cage.

Arthur glares at him. "Fine then. I also wanted to get rid of a few things."

His heart begins to race as a paranoia sets in. The muscles in his legs tighten, coiled and ready to spring. Arthur won't hurt him. He repeats it like a mantra in his head. But then Merlin is laden with confusion as Arthur grabs a chair and places it against the wall. He doesn't understand what Arthur is doing, standing on the chair and skimming his hand along a picture frame. When Arthur steps down, there's something in his hands. He walks towards Merlin and hands it to him.

Merlin realizes it's a small camera. "Edwin," he says to himself, realizing his former client had been using these to spy on him. So it meant that he seen when Merlin let Arthur fuck him in the robe. No wonder he'd tried to kill him.

"There's a number of them in this room. Edwin had an intricate surveillance setup."

"For what?"

"To watch you, I guess," Arthur says from across the room, searching another picture frame. "Don't worry they haven't been active for some time."

Merlin doesn't miss the possessive tone, but the tiny camera in his hands captures his attention. "How did you know about them?"

Arthur looks at the camera intensely. "A while ago, my father had given me a head up about someone looking into my business, my history."

"Edwin?"

Arthur nods. "He had an entire room hidden behind a wall in his closet."

"You called the guards. Avalon's security," Merlin realizes.

"He had his hands around your throat. Of course, I called."

Merlin listens to the false bravado, wondering if Arthur is actually going to crush the small camera nestled between his fingers.

He'd been spied on this whole time. He tries to think when Edwin could have planted cameras in his room—it wouldn't have been difficult. He had never been allowed to move or look around. When their sessions first began, Edwin had sent Merlin to get changed, so he had prepped in his bathroom. It had probably been then. All this time, he'd never known cameras were feeding information to Edwin.

Spying.

Clients tend to tell him things. They give him a lot of information and he never bothers to remember it, because it has nothing to do with him. But if he can give Arthur something he needs badly enough—the idea begins to formulate. There are a lot of people that would be of use, but Merlin can think of one particular man that might prove to be a threat to Arthur.

"Why don't you want me helping you?" He doesn't have to do what Arthur says. He can do this.

Arthur groans, exasperatingly. "Do you not understand the concept of safe? Do you see this?" He holds up the camera. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"Well maybe I want the same thing with you!" Merlin shouts. Arthur looks at him in surprise, like the thought had never crossed his mind. Honestly, it had only crossed Merlin's.

"Tauren," Merlin says, like it's the key to everything.

"I already know that he's your client. I'm not getting you to spy on him."

"And he knows you're my client as well."

That gets Arthur's attention. "Has he done anything to you?"

It's not the response he's expecting but Merlin rolls with it. "He's only asked about you."

He can tell Arthur is figuring it out, reaching a conclusion he finds less than appealing. "Do not play with him Merlin," Arthur says slowly, to emphasize his warning.

"We just play games. I'm your boy and he plays with me."

Arthur grits his teeth, and Merlin can see that he wants to cuss him out. "Don't think games are going to dissuade Tauren. We have a bad history and Tauren's been out to nail me from the get go."

"Because you're Uther Pendragon's son?"

"Who the fuck knows! He works for a rival. We compete for territory. I've messed up his operations, he's fucked with mine! We've taken hits on each other, and I know he's got a personal vendetta against me, so do not get yourself involved with him!"

Arthur's like a raging bull in a pen. Merlin's never seen him like this, and something urges him to find safe cover. But his tenacity to stand against the charge of hoof and horns makes him press on anyway. "He's my client, I don't have a choice."

"You have a choice in whether or not to goad him!" Arthur slams a fist against the wall. "Don't think your stupid games have him distracted—I know Tauren and he's just biding his time."

"He thinks I'm playing a stupid game. I'm his favourite in the Avalon. I'm only a prostitute. What can he possibly suspect?" Merlin argues. "I can get information for you."

"No! You have no business in this! I want you to stay out!"

"Fine," he says, but then continues, "just know that being a resident in the Avalon allows me to be a confidante to my clients a lot of the time. I'm sure people have told me things that could be useful."

"Merlin," Arthur growls, ready to lash out again, holding back at the last second to speak in a calm, terse manner. "Stick to being a confidante and stay within the Avalon's rules. I don't want to babysit you because you feel like being reckless."

He feels like he's been backhanded. Arthur telling him to stay within the rules when he's been encouraging Merlin to break away from them the years they've known each other. Against his better judgement, he'd had sex with him wearing Edwin's robe, and his client had attempted to kill him because of it. Despite being the Pendragon heir, Arthur isn't his boss and he sure as hell can't tell Merlin what to do. His resolve sets in stone. "Then I'll see you whenever I get back to work."

"What?"

The sudden change Merlin's displaying is confusing for Arthur, and Merlin knows it's because it screams of an odd professionalism he hasn't exhibited for Arthur for a long time. Merlin does his best to keep his face impassive and polite. "I'm sorry sir, but the Avalon's rules state that you need an appointment if you want my time."

Arthur glowers at him, but heads for the door nonetheless. "I'll be back tomorrow," he says before leaving.

---

He does come back the next day to get rid of the rest of the cameras in Merlin's room. Neither of them talk about Tauren or Merlin's suggestions to spy . As Arthur continually comes back to check on him, Merlin can see he's actively avoiding the topic. He can't say he wants to bring it up either, still feeling too angry at Arthur. Instead, Merlin contents himself with Arthur's presence almost constantly by his side, lying down in bed with him until he can eventually sleep in it on his own. It's easier when he isn't alone.

This is why, Merlin thinks, watching the warm body beside him. Despite his anger at Arthur, Merlin doesn't want to give up. If anything, what Arthur's doing for him makes him want to do something more.

While he rests, he loses a few clients. Merlin figures it's due to his long absence, or their knowledge about the incident. He's able to find out that Tauren's been sating himself with the other residents and has an appointment with Merlin right when he gets back. It's enough time to consider what he's going to do, the planning making the down time breeze by until it's Tauren opening his door.

"Tauren," he says enthusiastically, showing his regular how much he misses him. He's been using that tactic to every regular that came back, panting with so much wanton abandon, he even impresses himself with the act. He feels motivated.

"Hmm, what a warm welcome." The kiss he's given hurts. "You've been gone for five months ."

"I know." Merlin not sure how well he can fake a smile with Tauren's hand resting purposely near his neck, but he hopes it's convincing. He's aware that everyone wants to test him and make sure he doesn't lose it.

"You missed me while I was gone," Merlin flirts, peeking his tongue out across his bottom lip.

Tauren pats his arse, "Show me what I've been missing."

Merlin laughs as he kisses Tauren. "I've been bored these months. The company I had to keep."

"Who? Your manager?" Tauren laughs as though he's told a hilarious joke.

"Worse," Merlin leans forward, whispering into Tauren's ear, "the boss's son."

He feels the growing smile against his cheek, and he knows Tauren has taken the bait. Merlin pulls away, giving subtle hints that he should follow him to the bed.

"Really? What's his name?" Tauren says, playing clueless.

"I can't tell you that." Merlin adds a wink.

"Then what's he like?"

He stretches his body out, tilting his head like he's thinking. "Handsome," he pauses for effect, using the opportunity to get Tauren to lay beside him and soothe his frown. "That's about the only good thing I can say about him."

"Ah. He's a brute."

"You know him?" Merlin sidles closer, pressing kisses to Tauren's face as his hands wanders under his shirt.

"You could say that. And what was he doing visiting you?"

It doesn't sound like Tauren is actually probing for information, but it still makes him squirm a little. "I guess he was making sure I was in working order. Maybe for you?"

Tauren laughs darkly. "I doubt that."

"Not friends then."

"Not in the slightest."

"Hmm. Then maybe I it's alright if I tell you he is a bit of a brute-pushy."

"That sounds about right," Tauren muses.

Merlin inwardly falters, unsure if he's raising Tauren's suspicion. He kisses his client to give himself time to think and work it over, wishing he knew how to plan this out better. If everything he says sounds too accurate then Tauren will notice and begin to press him for information, but Tauren's fantasy also requires him to not undermine it with gross lies.

He almost reconsiders going through with the task, because he's never had a clue what he's doing in the first place and has been mostly playing it by ear. But he figures his last sentence could be taken as a repetition of Tauren's description of Arthur.

The most difficulty he's having is the game of the fantasy. The game that he often plays with Tauren takes on a completely different meaning when he's trying to get Tauren to divulge information. He comes to the queasy realization that he can't play it as he had before, if he wants what he's aiming for.

"Though, now that I think about it... there's one other really good thing he does," Merlin says, feeling as though his bones are jittering beneath his skin.

Tauren gives him a questioning look and Merlin tries not to stumble back from what he's about to say. Besides the hate the two Syndicate men share for each other, Merlin can also sense an underlying competiveness. Despite the risk, he plans to use it.

Merlin gives him an obviously fake smile, even flutters his eyelashes absurdly enough that his oncoming excuse won't be taken with any consideration. "I'm sorry, forget—"

"Tell me," Tauren orders, his smile brimming with irritation.

He bites his lip as though he's trying to decide, before he rolls to his hands and knees, arse sticking out for his client's view. "When he's got me like this, he really knows how to hit this spot." He makes his eyes sultry, and the anger the Syndicate man had shown before dissipates into a smirk. Tauren understands the challenge he's been given, and from the thick outline in his trousers Merlin knows it's been accepted.

A finger trails the seam of Merlin's trousers, the line down the middle that dips between the curves of his arse. "Like this, huh?" His trousers are yanked down, baring him to the cold of the room. The material chafes painfully on his skin, but he covers it with a playful laugh.

Merlin stretches himself to lie flat against the bed, so he can grab materials from the drawer. Meanwhile, Tauren shucks off his clothes and fondles between Merlin's legs. Once Merlin has the items in hand, Tauren pulls him back by the hip into his original position. His trousers keep his legs from spreading any wider, and Merlin has to shimmy them down so he can give his client the view he wants.

"Pendragon can only do it like this?" Tauren asks, fingers pushing in.

"It's the only way he can really satisfy me."

"Tell me?"

"He preps me," he starts rocking his hips and adds a breathy quality to his voice, "fucks me. Does it hard when he finds that angle."

Merlin pants thinking about it. He doesn't have to use his imagination, recalling from any number of appointments he's had with Arthur. It makes him realize that they've haven't had sex in a long time. The Pendragon had avoided touching him in any way after Edwin.

There's a strange need that encompasses the thought, and it's much too surreal to decipher, because Merlin doesn't need sex. He gets plenty almost daily. But he misses that closeness when they join together.

He can't see his client's expression, but his eyes must be blown wide from the sound of Merlin's panting. When Arthur feels patient he likes to push him to the brink before pressing himself in. In contrast, Tauren is already settling deeply in.

The challenge has spurred Tauren on in a way Merlin's never experienced before. His client searches to find that spot. Merlin hums when Tauren gets close and groans in disappointment when its farther away. It's a game of hot and cold and it makes Merlin reel from the intensity.

"Is this better?" Tauren says, as Merlin gives a surprised cry when the right angle is hit. Tauren's enthusiasm to outdo Arthur is definitely making the sex between them better.

"Yes!" Merlin's fantasy isn't the least bit disrupted by Tauren's voice. He easily imagines Arthur's familiar tones, and the rumble of him when he's in the throes of pleasure. He doesn't have to fake anything. The pleasure burns him in a way that makes him want to beg for mercy.

All too soon Tauren's done, leaving Merlin sweaty and unsatisfied. He quietly brings himself off as his client recuperates, feeling guilty for reacting this way when it isn't Arthur behind him.

"That was good," Merlin says honestly, trying to keep himself fixed on his haphazard plan. "You got anything else up your sleeve?"

"Still got more in me if you want it," Tauren says cockily. He's even still half-hard.

"Didn't think talking about Pendragon like that would get you that riled up."

"You'd know, wouldn't you? I got in trouble for it from your manager." That incident had happened more than a year ago, and Tauren referred to it as some sort of inconvenience.

"It wasn't that bad. I've had worse. Cedric overreacted," Merlin reassures, before seriously asking, "You really hate Pendragon that much?" It feels safe to drop the façade of the Avalon's training and ask the question while his client is more subdued from their activity.

Tauren eyes him with a lazy caution, stuck in his post-coital bliss , trying to gauge the direction the conversation is heading. At some point something clicks and he looks at Merlin with a disbelieving suspicion. "How do I know you're not going to run to him? He's one of your clients."

"I don't have a lot of love for domineering tyrants." It's true. He does prefer one side of Arthur to the other.

"Like father, like son."

"Really?" His curiosity is peaked. Even if the man giving him the information is Arthur's enemy, Merlin didn't know anything about Uther Pendragon. "What's the father like?"

Tauren looks surprised, but then it flattens out into understanding. "I'd imagine a hooker wouldn't know."

"I hear rumours."

Tauren scoffs. "Those are nothing. Punks who wander into our business thinking they can make something of it. We use what's necessary to show them their place. When you're dealing with Syndicates, don't expect mercy."

There is a story of a gang leader getting shot in the knees that Merlin remembers from when he was living on the outside. He tries to grasp what constitutes as mercy for Tauren or Arthur.

"Is it really that harsh?"

Tauren gives a gut-wrenching laugh. "That's sweet," he says mockingly. "It's necessary. But Uther's the worst. Takes it past necessary." He beings counting with his fingers when he says, "The Pendragon Syndicate has a hand in just about everything: drugs, money laundering, brothels, weapons—"

"Don't all the Syndicates have involvement with those things?" Merlin receives a glare for his interruption.

"What sets us apart is politics and brutality."

"What kind of brutality? And how does politics help you guys?" Merlin finds he's interested in the discussion, learning something new about the running of a Syndicate.

"Uther's a bastard of a businessman who knows how to manoeuver things his way. When he can't, he'll use force. Think of all those TV shows and movies-us bad guys kidnapping children and wives. Pendragon will take them and your cousins."

While he can't say he's seen the sort of movies or television Tauren's described, Merlin only has to think about his own family. "Why do other Syndicates let him do it?"

Another bitter laugh. "We don't. But Pendragon's got a fuckin' army in comparison to everyone else. And no one's willing to cut ties or give us information, because everyone's got their tails between their legs."

"No one's ever… said no?"

"I knew someone who had some personal connections with Uther, even knew his wife. They were close friends, helped birth his son." Tauren pauses, wrinkling his nose. "He burned her alive."

Merlin reels back in shock. "Why?"

"Wife died during a complicated birth, so the friend got the gasoline."

"Does Arthur Pendragon—" He couldn't say it as his stomach churns from the thought of it. Burning a person alive sounds almost barbaric to him. He once skimmed the lit end of a cigarette someone was holding between their fingers, and the flare of pain was excruciating.

"Burn people?" Tauren seem to be enjoying his discomfort, before slipping back into his untapped hate for the Pendragon's. "He hasn't done anything like that. Mostly does what his dad tells him."

"Sounds like a puppet," he says strategically.

"Sure." Tauren trails off, and Merlin can see he's thinking over something with great effort.

"What?" He nudges him with his foot, then trails a toe up and down Tauren's calf. Tauren doesn't react to it, still working over his thoughts. Merlin has to nudge Tauren again to get his attention, wanting to know what's suddenly bothering his client. "You look troubled."

"I make Arthur Pendragon sound like a puppet." Tauren shakes his head, chuckling slightly. "I think he's the one everyone's got to watch out for. Even his father." He places emphasis on the last few words, and Merlin doesn't understand.

"Are you saying Pendragon Junior is going to burn down a whole building of people?"

Tauren laughs. "Hardly. But you always have to worry about someone who doesn't follow the ranks. Anyone in the Syndicate's got to watch out for someone who's arranging moves for their own benefit. Especially if they have the means to do it."

"Isn't it a good thing if that's happening in a rival Syndicate?"

"Clever, aren't you Merlin?" Tauren rolls over so he's right on top of him. "I'd be okay with it if it wasn't the idea of Arthur Pendragon gaining more power. Uther's ruthless, but Arthur-he's treacherous."

"How?"

"My Syndicate had a deal going with Arthur, a fair trade—back then I was just a small step on the ladder—but either way, the deal was we hand over some items in exchange for money. Simple, right?" He waits for Merlin to nod before continuing. "Well Arthur, he double crossed us. We gave him the stuff, he gave us the money. The minute we turn our backs, BANG!"

Merlin jumps from the sudden shout.

"Him and his men shot us in the backs, took the cash and left us to die. Someone in the area must have called the cops, because suddenly the place is swarming with uniforms and ambulances. My cousin died, and so did a good friend."

"You're still alive," Merlin says, knowing it's a meaningless condolence.

"From what I understand, I barely made it."

"What happened afterwards? That couldn't have been good for business relations."

"Oh we brought it up to Uther, since at the time we thought we were making the deal with him. But turns out Uther had no idea what we were talking about, thought we were some Syndicate small fries trying to start shit. Told us to fuck off."

"So Arthur had never told Uther about the deal?"

"Didn't know shit about it."

"So he got away with it?"

Tauren shrugs. "I heard Uther had tasked him to do some menial duties for the next few months. I still want to smash his face in. Either way, I think Uther will have to watch his own back around his son."

Could Arthur overthrow his father as Tauren suggests? Shoot his father in the back like he'd done to Tauren? He now understands why Tauren hates Arthur so much. He's heard the rumours, but to hear Tauren's story makes them real. Merlin has always perceived a sliver of the ruthlessness that Arthur contains, and now he's heard a firsthand account that can't be passed off as a tale.

A comment Arthur had made long before, about his father's disapproval of him 'sampling the goods,' makes Merlin aware that Arthur's defied his father before. And obviously, Arthur hasn't stopped coming by. But that seems miniscule in comparison to the suggestion of patricide.

Had Uther Pendragon had objections to Arthur killing Edwin in the Avalon? Beyond the kinky stuff, the brothel hasn't seen violence since its designation as a neutral zone. But knowing the situation surrounding Edwin's death, of a serial killer picking off the residents of several brothels, Merlin can't say. He can only make decisions on what he knows, and he doesn't know much outside the confinement of his living arrangement.

There's a new discomfort in knowing his life is in Arthur's hands, because he can only imagine the consequences of letting Arthur learn about his family. Nonetheless, he's determined not to let Tauren's perspective stop him from this task. Without Arthur, he might not be alive today.

"I don't blame you from wanting to smash his face in. He…" Merlin tries to think carefully about what he should say. Allying himself with Tauren is the only way he'll get any real information.

"He's overbearing." Merlin starts slowly, but finds the complaints coming forth with ease. "Egotistical, demanding—everything has to be his way, and it's practically impossible to do anything right." He clamps down on the words before he can say anything more. Merlin's surprised at himself. He's gotten used to Arthur's behaviour and handling Arthur's posh way, and overall, his time spent with the Syndicate heir has become more than simple physical pleasure. But it still feels great to get that off his chest.

"So Arthur Pendragon is your client." Tauren pulls him back from the relief of his stumbling rant, reminding him of his task.

"You already knew," he says, throwing the truth out in the open, and then follows it with a lie, "but we can both share our hate for a common enemy."

"A common enemy?" Tauren chuckles amusingly, "How is Arthur Pendragon your enemy?"

"I'm tired of spoilt princes, and I know how dangerous he can be." He gives the latter statement a certain weight, whispering it as though it's a secret.

Tauren looks sufficiently intrigued, looking Merlin over for proof.

"He's usually very good about not leaving marks," he adds, licking his fingers to wipe make-up from the bruise on his shoulder. The injury had had nothing to do with a client and everything to do with his own clumsiness, but it looks like it could have been a whip from a belt.

"Your manager doesn't do anything?"

"Cedric? Why would he? Arthur Pendragon is the boss's son." As expected, anger flushes Tauren's face. Merlin knows how often clients get too rough, and that Cedric makes them pay a hush fee if they don't want to get banned. Cedric giving Arthur free reign to do what he wants will only fan the flames of Tauren's hate.

"Don't worry," Tauren says sweetly, "sometime soon, you won't have to deal with Arthur Pendragon."

He huffs his disbelief, stamping on Tauren's ego, but Tauren ignores the slight and continues speaking.

"Arthur may think he has everything under his control, but I've found the one thing that can bring him down. I'm sure you've heard about the Pendragon boy's trail a couple years back." Merlin nods. "Well, the reason why the trail couldn't go through was that witnesses went missing or got into accidents, and then the last remaining witness-the important one—dropped off the face of the earth, so there was no one to testify."

"But you found them?" Merlin asks excitingly, everything he needs coming together.

Tauren's smile says it all. "Martin Kelly."

"It sounds like you have a good way of bringing him down, but would it really work?"

"Arthur's applied his pressure, and I can apply my own. If they know what's good for them, they'll sing in front of the judge. We've got cops on the payroll, so don't worry your pretty arse." He slaps it. "You don't have to worry about Pendragon any longer. Just worry how you should thank me." Tauren pulls Merlin so he's sitting astride his hips. His client is hard again, excited for another round.

Merlin gives his usual laugh as he grabs another condom and works it on Tauren. He has what he wants, information that will be useful for Arthur, though he hadn't imagined it would be something on this scale. If Arthur wants to stay out of prison, it's something he can't ignore.

He'll tell him at next week's appointment, avoiding any coy games hinting about the information he has. He'll come out and say it, and take the brunt of Arthur's anger, having gone against his expressed wishes. Merlin rides Tauren in satisfaction that he was able to siphon something useful from his unsuspecting client.

But he still finds himself shifting from side to side waiting for Arthur to come. The week until the scheduled date seems to fly by, and he feels unprepared with the sudden responsibility of the knowledge he holds. He struggles with how to tell Arthur, his prior courage scratched away by his thoughts and hesitance.

Despite the increasing boredom of following his usual etiquette training, the familiarity of it places him at the front door waiting for Arthur to walk through.

When Arthur does he knows immediately that Merlin has done something. And when he speaks, his voice is a gruff menace. "What did you do?"

It's still a struggle not to back down, so he throws it out as quickly as he can. "Martin Kelly."

Arthur's gaze doesn't leave him as the door slowly swings closed behind him. The lock clicks and the abrupt switch makes Merlin jump back as Arthur launches three solid punches to the door, hissing air through his teeth.

He waits with his back to the wall, watching Arthur cuss out and unleash his anger, smacking the door and wrenching off his jackets. There's a clearly audible ripping noise, but for once he either doesn't take notice, or doesn't care.

After an indistinguishable amount of time Arthur turns to him. "Who?" From the way Arthur speaks, Merlin believes he's unleashed a demon.

"Tauren," Merlin says slowly, trying to be brave and look into Arthur's eyes, to watch as the rage erupts like the spewing of molten lava, burning everything it touches. It becomes too much and he has to look away, peering at Arthur from beneath his lashes, waiting to see if he'll try to regain control of his temper. He can literally see the anger being tamped down till it's wrapped tightly inside and ready to spring when he wants it to.

Arthur turns to him with a cold stare and stalks towards him. Merlin presses himself into the wall, but doesn't flinch or move from his spot, even when Arthur grabs his wrists roughly in his grasp and presses his chest against Merlin's. Like a snake charmer trying to hypnotise the snake, Arthur says, "I want you to back off." His voice is so controlled it almost sounds monotone. "I want you to stop being stupid and realize that I don't want your help."

He had expected Arthur to tell him to let him handle things, but he being called stupid makes something spark inside him. Merlin tries to move with Arthur's hold keeping him in place, uninterested in hearing anymore insults and dismissals.

"Did you hear me Merlin?" Arthur shakes him a little.

It's safe to say, from Arthur's reaction, that he hadn't known the information Tauren had given away, and Merlin believes the simplest of thanks would have sufficed. Instead he's being treated like a misbehaving child. "My arse the only thing good enough for you?" he snaps back.

"Now you're being even more of an idiot."

"You didn't know Tauren knew about Martin Kelly!" Merlin growls. "I got that information. Do I get a shot in the back now too?"

"Did Tauren tell you that too?" Arthur presses in closer, baring his teeth, which Merlin responds to in kind. "You can't have any illusions of what I do Merlin. But keep talking, it'll make me realize how stupid-"

Merlin tries to kick him, but Arthur intercepts by suddenly pulling Merlin's weight up against the wall. His wrist are brought above his head, and he instinctively searches for balance by wrapping his legs around Arthur's waist. He tries to squeeze his legs tight in hope that it'll induce pain, but Arthur just smirks at his attempt. So he does the next best thing and rips his hands from Arthur's grip so he can claw into him.

He hisses as Arthur's hands migrate to his hips and dig in equally painfully. They're both angry—Merlin at Arthur, and Arthur at the situation—and taking it out on each other. "You wanna know what else Tauren said? You're a puppet, Arthur. You do your daddy's bidding like a good puppy. But you're rabid as hell, and one day you'll turn on your father like you turned on him."

"You're crossing a line." Merlin's hit something.

"It's true, isn't it. What illusions do I have about you, Arthur? I don't know anything about you." He means it and it makes Arthur angrier, but not for the reasons Merlin thinks.

Physical pain reigns across Arthur's face, and then he begins to yell, "What utter crap are you talking about! I've told you about myself, even my men! I told you about what's important to me! If anything, I don't know anything about you."

Arthur begins to wind down, anger sinking back to reveal his hurt. At the moment, he thinks they're mirrors of each other as Merlin's fury winds down in sync. Merlin's pressed further against the wall as Arthur leans on him for support, and he finds himself holding onto Arthur for comfort.

"You're not supposed to know anything about me," Merlin says quietly.

Arthur laughs. "We haven't been following the rules for a while, they're not going to mean anything now. Especially if you go around spying on other patrons for me."

Arthur steps back a little, enough that the wall isn't supporting him any longer. There's the tingle of blood rushing back as Merlin lowers his legs back down. Neither of them lets go of the other, so Merlin rests his head on Arthur's shoulder.

"Did you get in trouble for killing Edwin?"

"Of course, killing someone in a neutral establishment—even if he was a serial killer—doesn't look good for the Syndicate." A chaste kiss is placed on his neck. "I'm still here though."

Which means Arthur's father definitely doesn't want him here, so he has to ask, "Why?"

Arthur shrugs, refusing to say anything. Instead, they are brought back to the original topic of discussion, which hopefully won't devolve into another shouting match. "I need you to stay out of this, for me."

Merlin can barely hear Arthur's voice with how softly and politely he makes the request. It makes him feel guilty that he has to refuse. "I can't. I don't care why you think I'm doing this, even if it's right. I need to."

"So fuckin' stubborn." Arthur hugs him a little tighter before stepping back. "I need to think about it."

Merlin watches as Arthur crosses the room and locks himself in the bathroom. With the reprieve from the Pendragon's presence, he takes a moment to gather his resolve and think things over. Like whether he's really doing this for Arthur or himself. The more he embroils himself in the situation, the easier it is to see that his desire to involve himself in Arthur's affairs isn't really about returning a favour. Finding out about Martin Kelly has given him an incredible satisfaction—the sort he can get drunk on.

Though, he could have done without Arthur's sudden flare of temper. The door is made of heavy solid wood though, and wouldn't be damaged by a couple of strong punches. No one can be that strong, though he jokingly thinks that Arthur could defy that logic if need be. The idea sours as it unsettles him. How much should he trust Arthur? Thinking about himself, Merlin knows he's different when he's alone in the room than when he's working with clients. What does it really mean to know Arthur Pendragon?

The spoiled man makes complaints and snotty comments, throws him insults, and has sex with him gently when he feels like it. And Merlin does know a lot about Arthur's life and his relationships with the men under his command. But where does that Arthur end, and the Arthur full of rage and fury begin? Today is the first time he's seen Arthur throw a real fit, lacking any semblance of control.

Could he let Arthur know who he is? The question might already be a moot point, considering Merlin has already divulged some bits of his barely remembered family history. And he wonders if it's possible to really know himself when his mother is only an idea.

What about their argument as Arthur trapped Merlin to the wall? Merlin had responded to Arthur's violence with equal measure, and can admit that he enjoyed Arthur's struggle to contain him. There will definitely be bruises on his hips tomorrow.

The bathroom door opens and Merlin drops his hands to his sides to stop inspecting his body, though his trousers are snagged on one side right below his hip.

Arthur doesn't say anything about it and motions for Merlin to sit on the sofa as he takes a seat on the opposite end.

He waits for whatever Arthur plans to say, yet finds himself the recipient of only a stare. It takes some time for Merlin to realize he's now dealing with Arthur Pendragon, Syndicate member, as said man watches him carefully. Merlin does his best not to waver, despite not knowing what would look like a sign of weakness.

"You really want to know what I do?"

Merlin's elated, because he hadn't thought Arthur would give in. He's like a brick wall, so Merlin doesn't know what he did to shake the foundation. "Yes. What do you have in mind?"

"Just do as I say." Arthur's predatory smile alarms him, and the plan didn't make Merlin has comfortable.

Arthur asks about Tauren's next appointment and Cedric's side investments, then leaves with only one instruction: keep him entertained. Arthur won't say anything more when he asks, and Merlin's earlier elation grinds back down to frustration. The possibility that Arthur's simply trying to string him along into compliancy sets him back on edge.

The anger is quick to pass as a few days later, Cedric gives him a call. His voice shakes as he tells Merlin that he's giving Tauren a week's stay due to an payment error on his part, and Merlin knows the reason is bullshit. He's sure Cedric is aware as well, but they both nod like it's completely normal.

A week-long stay with Tauren where Merlin has to keep him entertained. Whatever the weapon is, it's in Arthur's hands. Merlin is certain that he's been assigned as bait, but it still doesn't explain Arthur's part in his plan. A brief moment of paranoia convinces him that Arthur will tell Tauren what he'd done. And he questions sanity, because there's no way that Arthur and Tauren would meet each other so peacefully. They'd shoot first. They wouldn't even ask questions.

He looks around the room, thinking about the soundproofing beneath and whether it could muffle the sound of a gun. It successfully blocks any shouting, all the rooms are designed that way. He thinks Arthur might kill Tauren in the Avalon, despite his father's disapproval of killing Edwin in neutral territory, but Merlin quickly dismisses the idea. If Arthur is planning to take Tauren out, there are a number of other places for the deed. People walk in and out of the Avalon at all hours of the day, ranging from staff, security, to clients. It isn't isolated enough. At least, that's how he thinks something like this is done.

Increasing nerves make him frantic, cleaning his room to a spotless shine almost obsessively. He feels more nervous for this appointment than the one where he'd schemed to cajole information from Tauren. Merlin rubs at his trigger finger like Arthur had done so long ago, but it doesn't have any effect. The closer the appointment date approaches the more difficult it becomes to sleep. He doesn't know the plan, only his part in it.

---

An hour before Tauren arrives, Merlin orders himself a full pot of coffee to keep his fatigue at bay, which doesn't help the shake in his hands. He questions if he can do anything in the state he's in.

A key inserts, the lock turns, and Merlin greets Tauren with too much enthusiasm. "Hi!"

"Hello." Tauren looks at him, perturbed, so he scrambles to make himself sound less crazed.

"Sorry, there's this new coffee I wanted to try." He points to the pot. "And I really like the taste. Since you're spending a whole week with me, maybe we could enjoy it together." There aren't many moments that make Merlin want to gag, but the stupidity of his words swirls in his gut. "A whole week," Merlin repeats, "you're spoiling me."

"Turns out Cedric can be more than a worm. Exactly when I needed some downtime. The timing couldn't be better." Tauren smiles at Merlin and he gets the feeling that he should understand what it means, except his blood is pumping heavily and roars in his ears. Mostly, he's trying to keep his finger from twitching.

"Do Syndicate men get vacation?"

"Only when there's a need to celebrate."

"What's the celebration?"

Tauren laughs at him and runs his hands over his body. "I think you should lay off the coffee Merlin. You can't think straight."

He latches onto the reason, shrugging his shoulders like he made a clumsy mistake. "It was really good." Even though his attempt at distracting Tauren from his nervousness hadn't worked, at least his client doesn't know the real reason behind it. Merlin takes deep breaths, making it look like he's taking in Tauren's scent. He falls into a routine, licking up the side of his neck, waiting for the nerves to become a distant buzz.

"You wanna stay in bed the whole week?" They give each other a dirty smile.

"That's probably the best way to stay off the radar."

"You in trouble?"

"I might get some heat, but I was here all week with you. Think you can remember." His crotch is squeezed lightly, pushing a thrill up his spine. "When Cedric called, I was wondering why the hell he was calling me about some loyal customer bullshit."

Merlin tries not to show his surprise, but fails. Hadn't Cedric said it was because of a payment error?

Thankfully, Tauren misinterprets his look. "I know. Here I thought your manager made a living sucking up to those above him, and he can't give me a better reason then customer service. I should wring his neck for every time he made me pay him to hush up."

"You got something he wants?"

"He probably doesn't want to die. Arthur Pendragon hasn't been in the best of moods lately. Heard he's snapped a few times." Tauren pulls back. "You had an appointment with him last week, didn't you? Did he seem agitated?"

Merlin reels a bit in surprise to hear Tauren blatantly describing Arthur's schedule with him, and his eyes shift around the room, thinking about hidden cameras and microphones.

Tauren frowns at Merlin's reaction. "Did Pendragon say something?"

"I—" he falters.

Eyes narrow dangerously at Merlin and suddenly he's against the wall again. Only now, there's an arm across his throat. "Did you say anything?" he hisses, threatening to press down further.

The face in front of Merlin changes. Tauren, Edwin, and the john's images float across his eyes, merging into one another as they bear down on him and suck out the air from his lungs. Strangely, despite his panic, another part of him is serenely calm. He needs to pull through on Arthur's 'plan', especially when he'd gone through so much trouble to put this in motion.

Merlin doesn't know why he'd decided to put the pendant in the pocket of his suit jacket, and he'd forgotten that he placed it there, until the tiny metal bump makes itself known as a monster closes in. The shape of the jewellery isn't defined, but he knows the feel of it from it cutting into his palms. He squeezes his fist, imagining it indenting into his skin, until it's Tauren clearly in front of him. The rest of his life he'll have to put onto Arthur.

"I didn't say anything," Merlin wheezes. As Tauren threatens to crush his windpipe, he struggles to repeat himself. "I didn't. Arthur was just in a really bad mood. I got scared."

"What kind of mood?" The arms eases off by an inch.

"He tried to punch his fist through the door, I thought he was going to try to push my head in too." Merlin stares Tauren down, hoping the lie doesn't sound far fetched.

When Tauren lets go Merlin does his best to hold in his sigh of relief. He'd almost cocked things up.

Merlin walks to the bar and takes the first random bottle. He doesn't know what he's pouring for Tauren and he doesn't care. Arthur left him with the instruction to entertain him, with no further details. If Arthur's doing this to spite him, the temptation to dig for more material is tempting, but he not off to a good start here.

A glass is raised to his client and he turns on his flirtatious charm. "In celebration." The alcohol is readily accepted, and swallowing the liquid down lets him know his throat is working just fine. Twice he's been restrained against the wall.

Arthur and Tauren aren't so different, though Merlin definitely holds more of an attraction to Arthur—was reeled in when they first met, hook, line, and sinker. His connection to Arthur had only gone deeper from there. Arthur is handsome, but it's something beyond that. Tauren has his own rugged charm but Merlin doesn't find himself yearning for his company, not that he'll tell Arthur that.

With his attraction to Arthur and the way they are with each other, Merlin doesn't think he can claim that Arthur's a client anymore. Yet calling it anything else resembling a relationship seems ridiculous for someone who makes their living sleeping with people. He likes listening to Arthur's stories, about his life or his men. It's against everything Merlin had gotten used to. Arthur's a breath of fresh air breezing through his cage.

His mouth is latched onto Tauren's, as Merlin opens Tauren's button-down shirt and slides it over his shoulders. Tauren's stubble pricks at his skin, scratching at his throat as he moves down to mouth at Merlin's collarbone.

He's slow to realize movement at the corner of his eyes. When Merlin turns his head, he freezes. Arthur's face is impassive as he's completely focused on his target. Merlin doesn't need to look to know there's a gun in Arthur's hand. The Syndicate heir's prized possession.

Tauren doesn't seem to realize Merlin has stiffened up, no longer paying him any attention. Arthur slowly takes his eyes off of Tauren and looks straight at Merlin. He jerks his head to the side, a silent command to get out of the way. Merlin stares at Arthur, trying to wrap his head around this. He'd understood the command perfectly and he'd known that something was going to happen, but he's still trying to discern if this is real. Understanding the reality of the gun in Arthur's hand takes less than a second, but for him it feels like ages.

This is happening now.

With as much strength as he can muster, Merlin pushes Tauren off him and launches to the other side of the room. Tauren shouts his confusion and displeasure, before he realizes who is in the room with them. Merlin's run into the safety of the closet and watches the final moments between these rivals.

Tauren faces Arthur with the look of a rabid dog, and lunges at him with no care for caution or cover. The force of the bullet, right in the forehead, knocks Tauren back. Confusion sets in as Merlin tries to remember hearing the sound of the gun firing. Looking back at the weapon in Arthur's hand, Merlin can see a long cylinder extending the length of the barrel.

He doesn't know if that's what changed the sound of the gun, but it must be—it's the only thing different. It's not the loud bang Merlin remembers from experience. Instead there had been a sharp sounding puff.

There isn't much blood either. A small trail spills down from the wound in Tauren's head, rather than the amount Merlin remembers, that had soaked the john's shirt and the floor.

This event is anti-climactic, but the results are the same. He's left breathing and dazed, staring at the body before him. He hadn't pulled the trigger, but he won't deny that he's intrinsically part of the moves that had brought about Tauren's death.

"Now you know what I do."

Merlin jumps, shifting his attention to Arthur, who is watching him steadily. He can't read what those eyes are saying to him, but there's no admonishment or congratulation. Looking back at Tauren, he still sees the body of another man.

"Are you thinking about him?"

Merlin doesn't say anything, barely registering that Arthur has moved in front of him a moment later and blocks his view. He has no choice but to pay attention to Arthur, who is checking his eyes and pulse. He stays silent through the examination, knowing what Arthur's looking for.

"You seem to be doing okay," Arthur whispers.

"You wouldn't have killed Tauren like this if you thought I couldn't handle it."

"I was gambling a bit. But I didn't think you would react too badly."

"I know what a body looks like," Merlin cuts in.

"I know." Arthur takes up Merlin's hands. "This finger's not twitching."

Merlin nods, unsure what it means. Instead he asks, "Was your plan to show me the hellish depths of the Pendragon Syndicate?"

"Yes," Arthur replies blatantly.

"I'm not going to back off," Merlin states firmly.

"I get why you want to help Merlin, because I know what it's like to feel powerless. But I don't want you in danger."

Merlin ignores Arthur's loving voice, asking an obvious question. Simultaneously, he tightens his hold on Arthur's hand. "What do we do with the body?"

"Help me prepare it for transport." Arthur's pulls Merlin towards Tauren, and any small bit of resistance Merlin feels is quickly squashed down.

"We're not cutting it to pieces are we?"

Merlin's given a queer look, which he answers with a shrug. "I don't want to know where you got that idea. Those bloodstains would be hard enough to explain to Cedric."

It's only a few drops of blood on the bed sheet, but it's evidence to what transpired. "Help me carry him to the coffee table, I don't want any blood getting onto the carpet."

Together they lift Tauren's body and amble their way with the heavy weight. A few times Merlin ends up dropping Tauren's feet, not use to this kind of heavy lifting. Arthur has a hold on the bulkier mass of the body and carries it with ease.

"After this week is over, people are going to notice Tauren not turning up. Some attention is going to come down on you and Cedric for a bit, since this is the last place he's been. I need you to be ready for that."

Merlin nods, looking at the bedsheet. He quickly yanks it off, gathering it in his arms, wondering where he should put it. When he looks to Arthur to ask, he halts at the sadness in his eyes, directed at him.

Merlin doesn't know what it will mean from here on out.

After the week passes, the events that follow are as Arthur described. Merlin has done everything Arthur had asked to keep up the illusion that Tauren was making use of his stay. Food and drinks for two are ordered daily, and he even goes so far as adding pillows underneath the blankets to look as though someone is resting in the bed, or closing the bathroom door and turning on the shower whenever the servers bring the orders.

Arthur doesn't come back again to check up on him. While it bolster his confidence that Arthur has that much trust in him, he's equally lost without his guidance in this. The last time he'd had to deal with this, Merlin had run as far as he could, cutting ties with the few friends he'd had. Now the only place he can run is to the other side of the room. It doesn't do much to qualm his fear of getting caught.

The instant the phone rings, three days after the end of Tauren's appointment, Merlin is already expecting Cedric's panicking voice. Merlin acts confused, repeating over and over that Tauren had left after the session was done. When a room of Syndicate men come barging in to question him, he repeats the lie with no difficulty as Tauren's men clench and unclench their fists. Merlin does feel bad for Cedric at this moment, but it doesn't change anything. He pretends to be surprised, and even when he feels real worry they don't question him, believing him to be intimidated by the weapons they are armed with.

Eventually, Tauren is found floating in the river. Merlin had never thought how it would look when two of his clients end up dying, but everybody passes it off as an odd coincidence. Merlin listens as the stories and rumours run through the phone lines, people telling him sorry that he lost a regular, not expressing much grief over a client's passing. He acts nonchalant, telling them he'll have to reel another person in. Then the conversations go on to the usual.

When he finally sees Arthur again, they don't speak, touch, or rejoice that they were able to get away with Tauren's murder. They're silent to the point that it feels almost awkward, because they should be doing something. Yet, going up to kiss Arthur feels wrong, and so would having sex on the bed.

The wrongness is not out of guilt though. The events that lead to Tauren's death still feels surreal to him, because he'd had a part in it. Honestly, he's okay that Tauren's dead. This was a Syndicate rivalry at work between Tauren and Arthur.

Arthur won.

Said man is sitting on the sofa, as Merlin sits cross-legged on the bed. His jacket is carelessly thrown to the side, and the sleeves are rolled up past his elbows. He's completely relaxed, waiting on Merlin. He has an idea why.

"If I offered to make you exclusive to me again, would you take it?"

"I was expecting you to say that."

"You know me too well."

Arthur says it like a joke, but it brings a genuine small smile to his face to hear it. He likes that he can have this freedom with a client—formally a client, a partner at best. It still doesn't change his mind though.

"Well, you know me too." It's not particularly true. Merlin hasn't given every detail of his life to Arthur, only a few of the important bits.

Arthur stays silent on that point. "Tell me why you want to spy for me. Don't say that you want to help me, or return some favour. It's a nice sentiment, but I want to hear what this is going to do for you."

"Can't I do this because I care about you? You've done a lot for me, and I'm only a hooker."

"You don't have to protect me Merlin."

"I saw my mother die," he says out of the blue. The recollection of the memory isn't clear, and it's not something he'd thought he'd tell Arthur. But maybe it's time he fessed up to his mistake. "A john and his friends followed her home. They shot her."

"Where were you?"

"My mom told me to hide when they broke down the door. I went under the bed and stayed there for a long time, but they didn't leave. I don't know when I realized they were looking for me, but the minute I could I slipped out the window.

"I remember that there was a gun on the floor. It had slid to me when my mom knocked it out of one of the guys hands. She fought back right to the end," Merlin smiles at that, "and then I ran away. I was probably nine or ten, but I could've done something. I've heard of six-year-olds firing off guns, I could have shot them. Helped her."

"You're blaming yourself for your mother's death?"

"I killed someone when I was sixteen, I fought back and protected myself. If I could do that—"

"Sixteen and ten are worlds away from each other, Merlin. The Syndicate's a part of me. I've trained to use a gun since I was a kid, but I wouldn't have survived that kind of attack when I was ten. There's no guarantee that you would have held off a gang of men from taking out your mother."

"How would you know?"

"Because my father doesn't take betrayal very well." That same sadness is in Arthur's eyes as when Merlin had taken the sheets stained with Tauren's blood off the bed. He stares at Arthur, silently asking him to confirm what he thinks that sentence means. Arthur looks away in shame.

Merlin feels sick, learning that this event in his life was orchestrated by Uther too. His mom is dead because a man who may or may not be his father had betrayed the wrong person. He finds he's also upset at the idea that Arthur probably knows more about his family than he does. And Arthur has most likely known these details for some time, ever since Merlin first spoke to Arthur about his mother.

He bites his lip to remain silent, because there's nothing to be done. He's heard of Uther's vengeance and now he knows he's experienced it firsthand. Arthur could have killed him anytime, maybe shot him and Tauren together. Instead, Arthur's sitting on his sofa looking like the burden of guilt rest completely on his shoulders. But mostly, he knows Arthur's right. He wouldn't have survived, even if the gang of men hadn't been out specifically to kill him and his mother.

"You're right to say I don't like feeling powerless. When I met you, I realized how powerless I had actually become. I've followed a routine over and over, fucking and flirting, and I haven't stepped a foot outside this room for…I've honestly never bothered remembering. I was content to have this. Being brought here…I suddenly I didn't have to worry about food, rent, cops, or someone trying to beat me so they didn't have to pay. Then you came and fucked things up for me."

Arthur snorts. "You love me for it."

Merlin shrugs at Arthur, knowing it would have been incredibly pompous if it wasn't true.

"Is that a confession?" Arthur tries to appear nonchalant, but Merlin can see the stiffness in his shoulders as he waits for a reply.

"Don't get full of yourself." It's a horrible attempt at sarcasm.

Arthur goes to Merlin, kneeling in front of him, pressing his stomach to the edge of the bed. Merlin's feet have gone numb sitting in this position, but he doesn't want to move.

"I have a different offer, if you want to hear me out."

"You're going to tell me anyway."

"Of course." They smile as they inch their way back to a connection they've nurtured with quips and banter. "If you won't accept my offer, if you want to keep me safe…if you're going to keep putting yourself in danger because you're unsatisfied with being the Avalon's dull puppet, then work for me."

It never crosses his mind not to accept.

---

Update – Part 4 – 10/07/2012