Arthur Pendragon was irritated…but would that really be any kind of surprise…to anybody. He had been irritated everyday for the last three months. Not just moody. But irritated, once or twice or…more like ten times a day. It had already gotten to the point where it was becoming less Arthur just 'feeling' irritated. And more…a major defining personality trait Arthur found he couldn't quite shake…Arthur needed to go out and do something…irritated because it made him stop thinking for two seconds about how miserable Merlin made him. Had he needed to converse with his father…irritated. Because he could only figure Merlin had done something to upset Uther and now Arthur was going to be the one getting all the flak for it while Merlin was off ruining somebody else's life. Hell…if Arthur wanted to eat dinner in the privacy of his chambers then he would spend half the meal glaring over the plate to the empty chair across from him that Merlin had never once sat down at. Because if Arthur was going to be going mental with fussing at him as he tried to do something as mundane as eating, the least Merlin could do was sit in that chair only so Arthur could fuss at him in person. It would be hard to be blindsided by Merlin's next attempt at causing trouble, if he managed to keep his eyes on the boy at every minute of the day successfully.
But for the first time in three months…Arthur realized that he could have possibly just found something that was even more irritating then Merlin himself was…
Guinevere.
There was just something particularly off putting about him seeing the girl appearing at the top of the stairs. Maybe that was because of how flushed she was? Breathing desperate enough that one would have thought she had just ran about five miles to get there. Maybe it was because her curly hair was now sticking out of place and looking wind blown-could peasants not bother to at least make themselves look more presentable, if they were going to serve the royal family-as it was two seconds from falling out of her ponytail. Maybe it was that same old red peasant dress Gwen often wore but it was an eyesore to Arthur, who had gotten tired of looking at it some time ago-okay, that wasn't really true. Arthur hardly paid enough attention to Gwen to know what she wore on a daily basis, let alone watched her often enough to recognize the same dress. But the plain red color only made Arthur get worse with his mood, spiking him with irritation again. But if there was ever a clear sign as for why Guinevere was being as irritating as her mere presence suggested…it was this…
She wasn't Merlin.
Guinevere wasn't the bubbling fool that had turned him into the irrational mess he had become. She wasn't the one that could simultaneously drive Arthur mad with an almost crazy level of possession as easily as He made Arthur want to lock him in a room only he had the key too so he would know just where he was, always. She wasn't the one that made Arthur want to punch him in the face for being a fucking whore just as easily as he made Arthur want to carve his own initials in the skin of Merlin's inner thigh with a rusty knife so that any who saw that thigh, would know whose whore Merlin was. It was Him-and not Guinevere-who had made Arthur willing to jump off the deep end, as long as he could drag Merlin with him with a solid hand latched firmly around his wrist. Now…it was a complicated level of emotion that Arthur couldn't say he was used to experiencing. And this was made even more acutely noticeable when his normal level of emotion weren't any deeper then a teaspoon. The emotional maturity seen in a toddler more often then not. One who'd throw tantrum's to the extreme if life threw them a curveball that they were not quite expecting. Only Arthur wasn't a toddler. And he had all the strength and power of a grown man who knew he would always be the one in charge.
Now if only Merlin could understand that as well.
Arthur had known reigning Merlin in was going to be quite a difficult feat. It was like trying to tame a mountain lion, a big and majestic creature that would sooner claw one's face off before it allowed themselves to be petted. Like trying to put a collar on a shark and expecting it to heel or come when it was called, instead of coming only because it assumed that he was the one on the dinner menu. Like burning an entirety of a fire down to the ground until it was nothing more then a bunch of smoldering ash, and only later would he realize the forest had actually survived. A few acorns and seeds who'd managed to cling onto their survival with hands tighter then the jaws of a starved dog clamped around its first meal in so many weeks. But the prince had also assumed Merlin got his message loud and clear after Arthur had-how'd Morgana try explaining it to him, ah yes…brutalized him.
But there was something else that irritated him-as the blond prince scanned his eyes behind Gwen, hoping Merlin would have came to his senses and would just materialize behind Gwen, because even Merlin wasn't dumb enough to think he wasn't going to fuss at him for this unreasonable wait-and it was only noticeable when the handmaiden reached the last of the steps. And the girl stopped in place, pulling to a stop as if she couldn't have done it fast enough, looking at Arthur in her way with large and wounded eyes. She almost looked like an owl, clearly not sure how to approach and ask him to move over so she could pass him by. But there was plenty of room for her to go around him, because like hell was Arthur going to budge from this one spot unless it was to drag his consort through the grand doors himself.
Arthur almost wanted to hiss at her, just to watch her jump back in fright. Idiot girl…it was no wonder Merlin had gone and-against Arthur's wishes-made friends with the girl. But that was probably exactly why Merlin had decided to make a friend out of the serving girl…because he knew how much it was going to upset Arthur. But as it turned out, Arthur didn't need to hiss at all. It simply took Arthur glaring at her, with a sneer forming on his lips, before Gwen made a startled little yelp sound, plastering herself against the banister and away from Arthur. Such a frightful little thing, Morgana could have done so much better in the handmaiden department but the girl would have no other then Gwen. And Arthur didn't try to hide the way he rolled his eyes when he saw the other maid in question trying to inch herself around him. If it had been Merlin pulling such a thing, Arthur probably would've taken the time to grab him by the scruff of his neck, and jerk him down the rest of the stairs just to hear the little yelps that's come bursting from those bitten pink lips of his. At least he would give Merlin an actual reason for yelping, unlike Gwen who practically made a beeline straight toward Morgana the very second she managed to make it a good bit around the prince.
Gwen made it directly to Morgana's side, and Arthur noted the handmaiden was a bit to…touch friendly…the way she'd practically grabbed onto Morgana's arm as if she thought it was her lifeline and not her employer. Such disrespect…his own manservant would have never deemed himself worthy enough to touch him outside of helping him dress. His own servant had far better manners…Morris would've known not to interrupt any important conversation between the prince and his father's ward. To be fair though…Arthur was grateful for Gwen's interruption-or at least he would be once he was hit with the hindsight of the conversation-simply because it was tiresome.eHearing Morgana going on and on about how Arthur's treated Merlin…hearing Morgana trying her hardest to get involved in things that simply didn't include her. Gwen interrupting would probably end up being the least irritating thing to happen to him all day…later. But hey, at least Arthur knew Morris had been taught better manners then Morgana had taught hers. His servant was doing exactly what he was told to do…preparing two plates for himself and his consort among the dinner table where the two royal families would sit together as an opportunity to 'break bread' and have the chance to understand the other's cultures and ways just a bit better. It was hard to start a fight or whatever, when the food was good and the wine continued being poured…or at least that was what Arthur had always been told. And who was he to question things…
Question things like…why the hell was Morgana glaring at him with daggers in her eyes this time? Arthur was brought back to attention, frowning with an almost constipated look on his face from trying to understand. Was Morgana simply mad at him for refusing to take all of her 'oh, so very helpful advice' regarding his consort? Or was she mad at him for a whole new reason, as she dragged Gwen closer against her side, almost like a mother hawk protecting her young as she rearranged herself so that her body covered at least half of Gwen from view. So strange…and so very odd…Arthur shook his head. Morgana always did carry a soft spot for the ones who worked underneath them, but this whole display of hers was ridiculous. And boarding on completely crossing over a invisible line that was there for a reason…to separate those with noble blood from those who bore none. But how stupid was it really, that Morgana thought Arthur would try to do a thing to her little handmaiden. Arthur had bigger fish to fry, and the fish he was going to capture didn't resemble Gwen in the least.
But Arthur thought he had done an amazing job at holding his tongue-how Morgana constructed herself with the girls beneath her was her business, just as how Arthur decided to take care of his consort was his prerogative-when Gwen reached out and tugged gently on Morgana's sleeve to try and get her attention. Arthur could feel the return of his own sneer trying to appear back on his face…any good servant would know one simply didn't 'tug' on a noble's clothes. The very fine and thickly made fabric might tear, or gather some kind of unknown filth coming off of the servant's hand. He'd had thrown Morris out his room on the spot, had he tried to do the same thing. But Morgana seemed to see no problem with Gwen's familiarity toward her, and simply leaned back her head so that she could hear what Guinevere was trying to tell her.
It was obvious that Gwen was trying to be quiet, as her lips barely opened to allow the words to flow. Arthur's ears were straining to hear what she said, but with how soft her voice was and with Morgana's thick hair blocking any view of her lips-perhaps Arthur would've been able to figure out what she was saying by reading her lips-he only managed to do a bare minimum. And catch a few words here and there…need to…in private…important…and that was all Arthur had heard. But it was enough for him to dismiss it, with a roll of his eyes as he leaned back against the banister, staring with a horrid and bland expression on his face as Morgana asked the girl what the problem was. But Gwen shook her head, and made a jerking motion of her head towards the grand doors. It was probably the only place in the entire castle that was so lively and festive, that nobody would be able to listen in among all of the chaos brewing on the inside. This was just one reason more for why Gwen was suddenly a much horrid servant to Arthur than she had been yesterday. Morgana had asked her a deliberate question-what was the emergency-and she had held the information back instead of just speaking frankly to her mistress. Morris would have never…
But anyway, Arthur liked to think he knew women pretty well for the most part. And he knew what a woman considered to be an emergency. When Arthur thought of any emergency…he usually assumed that people were dead. Perhaps some of the horses had managed to escape the stables and had trampled over several people in their haste to get as far as they could before they were wrangled back to where it was they belonged. Or maybe there was a maniac in the village who had clearly gone off his potions, and was causing deep havoc in the castle, running amok and swinging whatever he could grab at the first person who tried to stop him. Maybe an emergency was something more serious, like a witch had taken place in the center of the courtyard. And was striking down anybody-the guards who tried to stop her, as well as the unfortunate peasants who got caught in the crossfire of her attack-with a bolt of lightning from the heaven. Or if the prince wanted to think of the biggest emergency that could happen…it would involve an army closing in on Camelot out of nowhere. Trying to take claim over a piece of their land or take command over Camelot as a whole if they made it all of the way up to the castle. But Arthur knew 'women' had a far different standard for what was 'an emergency.'
To a woman, an emergency could mean…the color shade of green didn't match the exact shade to the decorative comb that had holding their hair back. It might mean the dress did not flatter her figure as much as she had thought it did after it was first brought to her. It might mean her curls refused to lay like they wanted it too. It might mean that they-the blond prince had grown accustomed to thinking most women were fickle beings, and couldn't decide on anything even if it was their life at stake-couldn't decide what style of makeup was the best look for whatever was happening. Absolutely crazy to think anything similar to these examples could've caused a grown woman to go completely feral in her attempts to get it fixed. Or run off to try and hide her shame when the other girls scorned her because the bright pink feather decorating their hair matched somebody else who was there first…he'd literally seen that fight break out once a few years ago. The guards had to drag the two ladies away from each other just to stop the First Lady from clawing out the eyes of the other for 'copying' her style.
These were only a few of the reasons for why Arthur wasn't able to say he was worried about whatever Gwen's sudden 'emergency' was. Perhaps Gwen had simply had some kind of mishap and accidentally ruined one of Morgana's favorite dresses or something. Arthur would have had Morris' head on a sliver platter if he wasn't able to do something to get it fixed if it was his favorite item of clothing destroyed. But the Lady Morgana was a sort of different breed…Arthur doubted the other girl would even be punished for what trouble she'd caused. But as long as it distracted Morgana from ranting at him about Merlin again while he was waiting…he would have paid Gwen to purposely ruin more of Morgana's dresses just to keep her off his case.
And speaking of things to distract Arthur as he impatiently tapped the toe of his boot against the bottom step, moving his eyes away from Morgana as she tried to tell Gwen 'but I am not done with Arthur!'-oh, yes she was!-But Gwen didn't seem to be having it, and just continued trying to command the situation by tugging Morgana to the doors…Arthur made a humming noise under his breath as his stomach gave out a low grumble that was only audible to himself. He had not managed to eat much today, before all this whole nastiness with his consort had started up, and it had been a long day to the extreme. He was getting pretty hungry, and he would need to eat a big dinner if he wanted to have enough energy and strength to cart Merlin around whenever he would try to get away from him the second he realized Arthur was taking him captive. Arthur wouldn't risk something as simple as he taking his consort away for privacy, be evaded because the boy had managed to escape when Arthur was distracted by an ill-timed rumble of his stomach. Not on his watch…Arthur was not going to lose Merlin and give him a better chance to hide just because Arthur was distracted by his plans to take note of his own bodily needs.
But thinking of his upcoming dinner, and thinking of all the future plans he had for Merlin…also made him think of what his manservant was doing right now? Had Morris finished fixing up their plates-maybe he should add another five or so lashes to Merlin's already impending punishment, since it was his fault Arthur's manservant had to work twice as hard to take care of two people. Since Merlin had done the most stupidest thing Arthur thought he could do, and fired away his manservant-and if he had finished, did that mean Morris already had their goblets ready. Usually one waited until the noble was sitting before pouring their cup, so that the wine would be as fresh as possible. But sometimes, servants that were overeager about their duties would fill it up before just to try and prove themselves as the best person for the new job, by already anticipating the wants of their master of the mistress. Most servants learned overtime, but Morris wasn't a new servant. He'd been in Arthur's employment for these last three years, and most likely hadn't.
Which meant it wasn't too late for Arthur to slide a hand on top of Merlin's goblet before Morris could pour in the usual wine that was served with dinner. Merlin could just have the plain water to quench his thirst during his meal. Thinking on it now…Arthur couldn't say for certain how the boy handled his wine. He had never seen the boy drinking any-and it was not as if they had ever sat down long enough that getting a drink would be needed-so he didn't know rather or not that boy was a lightweight. Restricting his access to such liquids that could inebriate him seemed like the smartest choice for him to make. It Merlin was already a mess when he was fully sober, Arthur couldn't imagine the mess he would be if he'd gotten himself drunk and in front of their guest…Seeing how small Merlin was, Arthur couldn't confidently say one single goblet of wine would be enough to cause problems. For one like Arthur-who'd practiced his drinking since he had turned the ripe old age of thirteen (the usual age parents started to allow their children a few sips of their own goblet to get use to the taste)-it wouldn't have been a problem. But for Merlin …for all Arthur knew, Merlin would only mix up the wine with his more whorish tendencies and start hitting on Bayard! So it was better not to risk anything, especially since the other King had already expressed 'too much' of an interest in his consort then he was comfortable with. Arthur didn't want to risk taking his eyes off Merlin for only one second, and then end up finding him an hour later…pinned to some wall off in a random hall against his stomach, pants around his knees…as Bayard grunted like an animal and came spilling inside of his consort's twitching cunt.
Perhaps cunt wasn't the most adequate description of his husband's arsehole-Arthur thought grudgingly as he was scraping his nails agitatedly against the sleeve of his jacket-but if Merlin was going to act like a bitch, then perhaps that was the right description after all. It was only right that the prince used more female adjectives whenever he was stuck having to refer to one of his consort's body parts. If Merlin complained Arthur had whipped him hard enough that the rope curled around his chest and scraped against his sharp and pointy-frozen stiff in the air of the room-nipples, Arthur might've been persuaded to reward Merlin with a tiny bottle of soothing lotion if he admitted he had small boobs. If that idiot boy grew desperate and horny after Arthur denied him relief by allowing somebody into the room to take care of all his more…gay-ish needs…Arthur would simply throw one of the toys he got him at his head. Shove him through the door connecting their rooms and tell him to have fun playing with his pussy, before slamming the door. And if Merlin was really dumb enough to complain the toys weren't filling enough for his greedy arsehole-fucking whore was probably more used to real men, then carefully carved bits of wood meant to be satisfying-Arthur would simply deny him access to any toy Arthur had gotten him out of a brief moment of pity for the boy having no way of finding sexual release. If Arthur's toys were not agreeable for the boy's cunt, then he simply would not have them at all.
But…Arthur cleared his dry throat, he could really use one large helping of that wine right now…back to his current and more recent issue at hand. Merlin drinking…one more major reason for why Arthur didn't want Merlin drinking, would be having a massive hangover afterwards. As fun as it would be to wake Merlin up when he was suffering from a hangover to end all hangovers, it wouldn't be nearly as fun chaining him up if he was too distracted by trying to get his bearings into place. No…there would be no drinking for Merlin tonight. As Arthur-a dark look ebbing into his eyes as he crossed arms over his chest to stop himself from ruining his jacket by his needless scratching-didn't want the boy suffering from any ailment that Arthur did not give him himself. Arthur wanted to see criss crossed lashes across the low base of Merlin's spine and all the way up his back. He didn't want to see the boy trying to stop himself from throwing up because of the room spinning or something.
"Okay, Gwen. I'll go with you, but this really had better be important if you are dragging me away from Arthur before he admits how absolutely horrid he is!" Morgana said this in a loud tone over her shoulder, clearly meant for the prince to hear her. But if Morgana thought walking away now would make Arthur chase after her before falling onto his knees to beg for forgiveness and swearing on his life that he wouldn't ever touch Merlin again for as long as the both of them were going to live, she was going to be surely disappointed when Arthur did nothing instead.
Prince Arthur Pendragon simply stared at her, before he was bringing his gaze down onto his nails as if they would be the most interesting thing in the entire world that he had seen in all his life. He could hear Morgana huffing loudly, and out of the corner of his eye, could see Morgana grabbing Gwen to hook their arms together, dragging the handmaiden towards the grand doors. Arthur could feel a slow smirk spreading its way across his face…check and mate. It looked as if he had been the one to win their little battle of wills. And it was the most pleasing feeling, knowing that Morgana wasn't going to get her way just because she showed him displeasure. It would teach her that Arthur was a stubborn man, and there was no amount of arguing that would change his mind once he had made it up. No amount of arguing that would've got Arthur to give up Merlin…
"Oh, and Arthur darling. There is probably one little thing I think you should know before you end up having to spend the entire night-and leaving your guests disappointed since their prince couldn't be bothered to show up-and standing out here all by your lonesome." Morgana drawled the very second she had reached over to grab the door handle. The handmaiden threw Morgana a very panicked look, tugging a bit more insistently on her arm, as if she already knew what Morgana was about to start spewing. But Arthur paid her no attention, narrowing his eyes on Morgana, who had the little gleam in her eyes that brightened them up considerably. He could definitely say for certain, that she looked like the one cat that finally managed to catch hold of the canary, clearly determined to be the one to get the last word in on the ever growing argument between them. But Arthur allowed her to do it, knowing that he would be the one who ended with the victory-with his arm wrapped firmly around Merlin's waist as he carted him wherever he wanted to go. He was absolutely positive that Morgana's last word-she never wanted to leave a fight until she got the final say-wouldn't do him any harm …she was probably just going to pull something straight out of her arse to get into his head…but it wouldn't work. Arthur was most definitely not going to be standing out here all by his 'lonesome' for long. Not when he still had Merlin coming his way, and it was a cheap shot if she thought anything she had to say… "Merlin's not coming."
Arthur could have sworn there was this sudden screeching sound echoing in his eardrums, loud enough that he might have wanted to try pulling his own ears off his head in order to preserve his hearing. But as it turned out, the prince was struck speechless, unable to do anything more then blink as the color drained out of his face. He must've had something wrong with him, that had to be it, right? Perhaps he needed to simply clean his ears…though Arthur was pretty good on keeping himself clean. But maybe he had some kind of odd infection that was causing the words around him to sound a bit different then what they actually were. Or maybe he had some kind of brain injury…one of the older guys participated in his training of the knights session had managed to get in a lucky hit before Arthur had dispatched him. Arthur moved him into the advance class, since not many people managed to actually hit him during training. But…that's also been two weeks ago. Was it possible for brain injuries to only show its symptoms after such a long time had passed by? And would one of those systems be a temporary loss of his hearing…he having a brain injury was literally the better alternative when compared to what Morgana had told him just now…
Perhaps there actually was something Morgana could have told him that would have sent Arthur's entire world into this odd sort of tailspin. Because this was the only way he could have described…Arthur was tailspinning, feeling as if he had just decided to take a free fall off the edge of the highest or topmost tower the castle had. Those words just kept hitting him upside the head as if he had just been struck with some kind of brick…over and over again until he had lumps being pushed up out of his hair: Merlin wasn't coming. Maybe this had to be some kind of metaphor or something…maybe the brat hadn't liked any of the outfits Madame Teresa went out of her way to make specifically for him. Which was definitely proof that Arthur had been spoiling the boy far too much by allowing him to run wild, if he couldn't even be grateful for a gift given to him by somebody nobles often fought over just to have one of her creations. Perhaps this spoiled boy would simply be running late-or later then he already was-because he was trying to raid Madame Teresa's work studio to find a outfit that was more to his liking? It was certainly unlikely for this to happen, but…this was also Merlin. And he'd definitely done things Arthur would have never expected, so this was just one more thing on the list.
But even if something like that had happened…certainly his consort would have already been done preparing himself by this point…yes? It wasn't as if Merlin knew the standards the noble class held to getting dressed, so he would have most likely just thrown on the first thing that caught his fancy. He couldn't have taken more then five minutes at most…so why had Arthur been standing here for almost an hour, waiting to see a boy who wouldn't know punctuality if it literally bit him on the nose, unless…unless Arthur really didn't have a thing wrong with him. And Morgana had only spent all this time on trying to fight him over Merlin…because she knew there was no chance he would be able to go chasing Merlin. Not when the banquet was directly behind him…not when Arthur had all the people that were waiting for him. For him and for his consort…Arthur might be able to wait out here, but he also could not just disappear. Not if he needed to make himself an appearance rather sooner then later…
But it made perfect sense that Morgana would try to go out of her way to sabotage him like this. She was pissed ar him about Merlin, and had nothing better to do with her life then try to get under his skin. Hell, Arthur would probably go so far as to accuse Morgana of being the one that told Merlin to stay away. Merlin would have known-unless he really was as stupid as Arthur first thought him to be when they'd met-Arthur would do far more damage to him then a simple little disciplinary slap across the face, if he screwed this banquet up for him. Unless Morgana had told him something, or had convinced him to stay away…bloody hell, that would be just like her! And now because of Morgana, Arthur would have to spend the entire night fending off questions about where he had hidden his consort, and when was he going to join them to celebrate the treaty…Merlin was going to bloody well end up with twenty extra lashes with his whip for this! For going ahead and listening to 'Morgana'-who had free access to do whatever she had done with him while Arthur had ended up running himself ragged all over this castle to finish his final preparations-instead of doing what even Merlin should have known would be in his best entrance.
But by the time Arthur had gotten his faculties back into the proper working order, Morgana had already tugged open the door before Arthur could start cussing up a storm. The kind of language Merlin had, that would have made his father go ahead and wash his mouth out with soap because 'prince's did not need to use that horrible commoner language to get their meaning across' but all Arthur wanted to do was start screaming, his face turning beat red with his anger. But the burst of music and chatter and chaos as those from Mercia and those from Camelot mingled together erupted from the hall. Arthur could see the dozens and dozens of people…so loud that any cussing he had done would've been drowned out long before Morgana would have been able to hear one word from him. The Royal Announcer standing by the door to greet people as they walked into the hall, made the room even louder as he blew three short bursts through his horn to get the room's attention, somehow able to project himself loud enough to be heard from all corners of the room.
"NOW ENTERING LADY MORGANA LE FAY, WARD TO KING UTHER PENDRAGON OF CAMELOT!"
And Arthur watched with the belated urge to chase after the lady and her maid to demand some proper answers-why did she say Merlin wasn't coming? What had she told him that'd make him go against what Arthur wanted? And why did that bloody brat listen to Morgana, when he surely knew there'd be grave consequences for their latest act of disobedience and rebellion-as the door started to close. Separating them and preventing Arthur from chasing after them, knowing he would be stuck inside with no chance of staying here on the stairs and waiting it out, with the hope that Merlin would've came to his senses. But when the door seemed to be only a inch wide, just enough for Arthur to still see Gwen and Lady Morgana standing in front of it. And Gwen finally managing to whisper something in Morgana's ear, tugging her down to meet her slightly smaller frame so it wouldn't be a strain to stand herself up on her toes. But whatever Gwen must have told her, must have been far worse then a few dresses being ruined in the wash like Arthur had been thinking.
"HE'S DOING WHAT!" Morgana's shout was drowned out by the returning chatter of the people now that her arrival had been noticed. She didn't look back at Arthur, but she'd also turned her head to look at Gwen, giving Arthur a better view of half her face. The single eye he could see nearly so wide, it could've fallen straight out of her eyes socket. Leaving her face looking fraught with tension, and leaving Arthur almost craving to know what Gwen could have told her to put a look like that on her face. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S GOING-"
But the door finished closing before Arthur had the chance to hear the rest of what she had been about to say. With an echoing thud, the heavy door muffled any and all sound but for the faintest of noise echoing from the room. The silence of the hall was almost deafening after the loud boom made from the door had finished echoing down the hallway. And it was final…Arthur was finally on his own. No Morgana being in his face to tell him what he should and shouldn't do, and no father coming out for the tenth time to 'check' on exactly how much longer he would waste standing out here while he grew increasingly more impatient the more he had to come get Arthur. There was no more random couples making their way into the grand hall, no knights as they were all either on the inside to make sure Mercia didn't have some kind of odd coup planned to take over Camelot while they were all being treated like long time friends. Or had been delegated in the different areas around the entrances of the kingdom, being sure no enemy of Camelot would try to use the banquet as a distraction to get inside the castle. And…there was also not a single sight of Merlin anywhere…
The silence seemed even louder then it was before when he took that in…there was no Merlin. And according to Morgana there was not going to be any Merlin. Not tonight at the very least. No Merlin to badger Arthur…no Merlin to distract him from how terribly horrible he knew this banquet was going to be, with him having to give a speech and all…there wasn't any Merlin that Arthur could watch like a hawk. No Merlin he needed to monitor, watching how he interacted with any of the men he got introduced too…just so Arthur could try and pick up some signs of when Merlin was flirting. It would be a bore, but it would at least pay off later on, give Arthur some kind of warning sign if Merlin thought himself clever enough to sneak away after Arthur wrongfully deemed him ready to leave their room.
But those were all things Arthur had planned to do during this insufferable banquet, but with Merlin not coming…it felt as if all those plans had just been ripped up and scattered in the winds just like he had done to Merlin's bloody love letter earlier that day. Even if Arthur knew exactly what to expect when attending a 'normal' banquet, he somehow felt as if he was lost, not knowing what to do with himself. Everything he knew that happened in a normal banquet…Arthur had been already intermingling and integrating Merlin into it. The boy was meant to sit at his side, but now there would be just an empty chair left to the side. Arthur was supposed to greet his people with Merlin dragging his feet as he clung onto his arm. Arthur was supposed to deliver the speech he'd tried to work up explaining how grateful he was for this treaty and how he hoped he could carry it on when he became king far too many years down the line. But Merlin was meant to be in front and center, where Arthur could keep a firm and steady eye on him-not breaking contact until Merlin felt as if Arthur was trying to penetrate his skin through his stare alone-and clap politely with the rest of their people whenever he would finish. Merlin was MEANT to be like a tick that had burrowed itself under his skin, being carted everywhere with Arthur as he drained Arthur's patience dry like a tick would blood.
Click, click, click…Arthur barely registered the light clicking sound of shoes coming from somewhere above his head as he brought his head up to scratch roughly at the back of his neck. His shirt collar was feeling a little too tight, and he did not know what to do now…the embarrassment he knew that this was going to cause his father-click, click, click-and the prince just knew that he was going to get the blame for not being able to control his bloody consort. Click, click, click…it was not panic that encased Arthur, he would never say he was the type to 'panic' when something went wrong. But he was definitely anxious…okay, he was bloody panicking up a storm, so bloody sue him…and didn't know how he would be handling this. Click, click, click…but staying out here would only be stalling for time, especially if Merlin really did never show up. Click, click, click…Arthur hadn't realized just how much of this banquet had Arthur involving his brat in some way, until he was no longer there to keep Arthur distracted from the nuances of royal court life…
Click, click, click…the light tinkling of shoes finally reached the prince's eardrums but only when it stopped somewhere above his head. Arthur's head whipped around so fast, that something in the side of his neck popped. But the dull pain of it was thrown into the back of Arthur's head as he saw a very well dressed gentlemen standing on the top step, and this man was looking directly at Arthur. Standing with such a frozen disposition, that it was painfully clear he hadn't been expecting to run into Camelot's prince this soon. And Arthur bit back a sneer of disgust, not in the mood to have another star struck boy wasting his time by gushing over his person, and falling over his own feet to try and make himself known to Arthur-even if it was in an unfavorable light. Arthur didn't have time for that kind of hero worshipping, nor did he feel like dealing with it. He only wanted to stand here and panic until he worked up the nerve to see the expression that was going to paint his father's face when he realized Arthur had walked in alone. Instead of accompanied by…
No, Arthur could hardly bare to think of the name anymore, or he would surely loose what little composer he thought he was holding onto. Forget twenty lashes…thirty, or maybe he would do forty instead…it would be excessive for their very first session, but nothing Merlin wouldn't have deserved, he thought as he turned away from the stranger at the topmost step of the staircase. Fifty lashes…sixty…this whole ignoring Merlin's name was hardly going to matter if he continued to think of the boy and what he was going to do to him after he missed this. It took practically everything Arthur had inside of him-his responsibilities to his father and his duty towards the court and this kingdom would not be trumped by Merlin, of all people-not to abandon where he was needed and run to Gaius' chambers. And spend the rest of the entire bloody night watching the blood streaming from fresh, new wounds as Arthur used the belts in his wardrobe to get creative and hold Merlin down. A night of hearing Merlin scream while he finally got payback for 'everything' these last three months had thrown at him, almost sounded too good for him to pass up. Especially when the alternative was sitting through what would probably be a dozen speeches before they finally got to sign the damn parchment and eat their dinner proper. He would never be able to pay attention like he should anyway, if he was too busy thinking of what 'after' the banquet was going to bring him.
Arthur scratched a bit high on his neck, closer to his chin to make it look as natural as possible, and not as if he was just trying to stop himself from jerking his neckline down to give his tight throat an easier time getting air down into his own lungs. Though he might as well just rip his shirt off and walk around without it if he was going to do that, considering the low neckline already went halfway down his chest…perhaps having a staring contest with the stranger standing in place at the top of the stairs would have been preferable to being forced into contemplating the risks and rewards he'd have in his hands if he tried to ditch tonight's festivities to deal with a certain brat who'd gone too far…again. That was certainly going to distract him from doing something that would have been entirely stupid, like running after Merlin once again.
Arthur, with his hand scratching a bit absentmindedly at the side of his neck, creeping up to scratch alongside the bone of his jaw, glanced back up. And immediately wished he had not when he realized the boy at the top of the stairs hadn't moved an inch. It grated on Arthur's already frail nerves and perhaps yelling at the boy would have been a better option instead. Yes, he bloody well knew he was the prince! But it didn't mean somebody could just stop and gawk at him as if he was some kind of meat dish they were about to devour in a heartbeat. Idiot boy…Arthur thought with his gritted teeth before turning back around…the boy at the top of the stairs was probably used to getting things he wanted. If the prince was not mistaken, the boy had to be somebody's concubine that they thought were appropriate to bring into a feast that was known for being formal. It wasn't as if this was just any old feast…it was a 'very' formal one, and somebody bringing a concubine was verging on being inappropriate.
But everything was verging on being inappropriate now, and Arthur had a feeling him and his consort would be to blame for a 'concubine' being brought to a formal gathering. Why…a concubine was literally only one step away from being like any standard hooker or whore. The only difference was that a concubine slept with one man, usually a noble whose own wife wouldn't indulge him in the things he liked to do in bed if they were more on the rougher side. Or somebody a man could use if their own wife was pregnant or sick, and unable to do their wifely duties and please their husbands. Though a concubine didn't sleep with any random man for simply a few pennies, and were often paid quite handsomely. Having their own room in the house, with an allowance of gold that would allow them to buy anything that would make them be more pleasing to their master. Arthur suspected people saw his consort-a former peasant-running around, and thought all the rule books on propriety would simply be thrown out of the window now. Perhaps those rules had been, with the peasant now having a strong grasp and right to his crown…but Arthur still thought it was improper to bring one's sexual partner to mingle with the higher class, when one's wife was most likely sitting at home and tending to the children.
But Arthur wasn't one to start a scene whenever he would see something he didn't like-no, really! That wasn't like him at all-and Arthur glanced back up to the concubine when he took a sudden step down, all bow legged and awkward while he grabbed tightly onto the banister of the stairs just before he almost took a nasty fall down the stairs. Arthur could not stop the sneer from forming on his face before he glanced away again, his scratching fingers absentmindedly working up towards a specific spot on his chin…at least that stupid concubine would be gone soon, off to find his master after Arthur offered him no recognition or entertainment. And he could return to his panicking in private…were all peasants as clumsy as his consort was…OW! Fucking OW!
Arthur hissed loudly, the sound echoing up the stairs, which caused the boy to freeze in misstep, but Arthur paid him no attention as he whipped his hand away from his face. Which thankfully, he saw that his fingertips were clear, no drops of blood in sight to ruin his image. That bloody Merlin…fucking idiotic brat…that spot Arthur had just touched along his chin happened to be the same spot where he'd been nicked with Merlin's claws. At some point during his fight with Merlin in the marketplace, the brat had came at him with arms almost violently swinging at him. It was all a big blur to Arthur, he'd been too mad to think about anything other then reaping his revenge on Merlin, but at some point, one of his nails ended up catching Arthur on the chin. Not enough to disfigure him, but he had most definitely been scratched up.
When Arthur had finally returned to his chambers so that he could dress, he'd told Morris not to bother questioning him on what had happened, not willing to get into the 'pleasures' of marital bliss with his manservant. And had simply told the manservant to find something that would help cover up the scratch mark so his father wouldn't ask him more questions he wouldn't be allowed to dismiss. Morris had only nodded, used to the strangeness that was his prince, and for some reason, had already been prepared. Pulling out a container of powder that matched Arthur's skin…it was embarrassing to be wearing makeup-even if it was only on that part of his chin-and uncomfortable feeling it against his skin like some kind of added layer. But it apparently matched his skin tone close enough that it would go unnoticed, which Arthur could thank his lucky stars for, at least.
But for now…Arthur pressed his thumb up against the light scarring, feeling the stinging erupting along his jawline once again. Only instead of pulling his hand away, he pressed on it harder, forcing the stinging to intensify…bloody Merlin. His eyes fell shut, concentrating sorely on the stinging mark the brat had left on him…Merlin was always causing him to start bleeding, wasn't he? It was almost funny, Arthur thought as he traced down his jawline where he knew the exact width and length of the scratch by heart, how Merlin claimed that he was the abusive one. And yet, it was always Arthur who walked away with more scratches then not, since Arthur had always pulled his punches back when holding the boy down before now. How many times had one of Merlin's nails left a mark on him…the scratches he once had along the inside of his wrist after he tried taking the flower Gwen had given him away were healed, but Arthur could still feel the them like a phantom if he concentrated hard enough. What about when Merlin had stabbed him in the hand with his own quill-Arthur still had the blood tipped quill in the back of one of his desk drawers. Or when Arthur had first tried giving into his urges and spank Merlin on his desk…Arthur's nose had ended up feeling swollen for at least two weeks afterwards. And here it was again, a new little scar to add to the collection that he had gotten from Merlin bloody Pendragon…
Maybe Arthur needed to just look at the concubine-who was still frozen on the steps behind him, seriously? Was he really so fascinating that random people would stop whatever just to stare at him-before he gave into the impending bloodlust Merlin drew out of him that was starting to stir his veins-hot and heavy like molted fire trying to roar through him. Trying to get rid of the concubine-for what else could he be, there wasn't a noble alive who wouldn't be able to look at him and simply 'know' he wasn't anybody important because of how his posture was alone-would distract himself. And that was what Arthur did, jerking his thumb away from the scar along his jawline though it did little to help, continuing to throb to remind him it was there, and glaring up at the concubine to show just how displeased he was by the boy's presence.
What noble, Arthur thought as the boy took his glare as the permission he needed to start walking down the steps in his awkwardly slow gait, had been shameful enough to think he could bring a slut here? Perhaps Arthur should try to have a conversation with him about what he deemed was a suitable public companion, as he darted his eyes down to where the boy's collarbones were on display. The least the concubine could have done was dress a bit modestly if they were going to come here, of all places. Quite ironic considering Arthur's shirt left half of his chest on display, and the only thing even Arthur would say was revealing about the concubine would have to be the flashes of pure milky white skin being caught in the torchlight and contrasting against his dark shirt just to make it even more noticeable.
Arthur rolled his eyes, that must've been a deliberate act by the boy to draw attention to himself. Perhaps Arthur should just turn the boy away himself at the door, let him know that there was a party going on and his presence would probably be better handled if he waited in his master's bed chambers to do what he was being paid to do. Yes. Just because there were people that were whores, didn't mean they needed to go about flaunting their professions. It was probably people like this concubine, that made his own consort think he was able to be open about his own sexual desires. Were people like this put on this earth for the sheer pleasure it gave them to torture him…first whores and now concubines? Would the prince find a hooker next in the castle? Offering to touch the first noblemen they ran across under their robes only for the gold coin they could produce from their pockets.
But…Arthur didn't know what it was that made himself take a second look at the concubine-really look at him-instead of just dismissing them outright. Perhaps it was when they had walked by a torchlight hanging near the steps, giving Arthur only the briefest hint of sharp cheekbones that was vaguely familiar to the prince. Maybe it was the way the concubine clearly tripped, the back of his heel scraping against a step they missed, roughly catching themselves onto the bottom one as they frantically grabbed onto the banister to prevent taking a tumble the rest of the way. It was an action sending alarm bells in the back of Arthur's mind,..he was positive he had never met anybody as clumsy as his consort was before right now…but the real kicker were the ears.
Arthur found himself unexplainably drawn to looking directly at the concubine's ear as he reached the first landing of the staircase. Two great things on either side of his head, both of them sticking out like an elephant's might. Not even all of the inky blackness of the boy's hair artfully framing the pair was enough to hide them from view. And as the boy walked more firmly into the light, standing on the landing that was separating the two sections of staircase, and once again looking down at Arthur as if he knew him..Arthur could have sworn he had just been hit with a sledgehammer. It felt as if whatever air had been in his lungs had suddenly been taken from him by some kind of hose, whooshing out of him until he had nothing else to give…the possibility for why the boy's familiarity striking him much harder and faster then the blow Arthur given to Merlin's face.
Merlin…
Merlin…
Merlin…
The name echoed inside of Arthur's head as if it was trying to become synonymous with the beating of his own heart…for only Merlin could ever have ears like that. And he knew only Merlin would have tripped on the stairs like he had. And he knew…that this was most definitely not a version he had ever seen of Merlin, didn't even know it was possible for the boy to become…this. Almost like a swan being born after it'd spent its entire life being nothing more than the just the ugly ducking it had always been. But that couldn't be…it couldn't be Merlin…right? People who looked like Merlin didn't show up to something looking like…that…
Arthur was so used to seeing nothing but those old rags the consort always wore. Oversized clothing that would've fit on somebody about two sizes larger then Merlin actually was, it now though…it would have taken nothing less then an actual explosion to pull Arthur's gaze off of him. Nothing less then fire and chaos and people dying in the street would've made Arthur move-frozen as he was-at the foot of the steps. And while Arthur didn't get a chance to get a proper look along Merlin's face, the boy too high up and the shadows dancing across his form to make him appear like some kind of weird shaman emerging from the depths of hell. Because that had to be what this was…Arthur had somehow died while he had been getting screamed at by Morgana-perhaps she'd been the one to kill him, even-and this was his hell. Waking up in a world where Merlin…didn't look as much of a freak like he usually did.
Arthur's gaze dropped from Merlin's smooth collarbones-is the boy seriously not wearing a neckerchief? After the fit he had thrown when Arthur had tried taking it off of him before their first meeting with Bayard? He would have thought the boy would have tried wearing it even now-and straight down the length of one of his arms. Seeing all the black fabric that was tight and taut around his shoulder blade, but looked like it grew looser the further down the arm it went until it ended in a little flair out around the wrist bone. And Arthur couldn't stop watching as that boy-was something wrong with him…he had to be getting sick or something. Maybe some sort of strange inflammation of his brain. It had to be the reason as to why Arthur was finding Merlin so utterly…captivating-was lifting his arm and placing his hand back on the railing of the staircase. It looked to be done with surprising grace, almost befitting for a noble, as his fingers loosely curled around the edge of it. It would have been graceful, if Arthur didn't know the boy had only done it to help him with the problem Merlin had keeping his balance.
Arthur was positive that he himself looked to be a fool…his jawline had gone lax and unhinged as he stared up at Merlin with a gaping jaw. His eyes just a little wider then they would be usually as they darted around different spots and pieces of Merlin's form as the boy started his slow and careful walk down the stairs. But the prince could hardly recognized him being the fool this time. Each spot of Merlin his eyes landing on capturing his attention just as fully as the full picture had done. And Arthur honestly couldn't say he knew which part of Merlin he should be lookin at, or if it was wrong for him to be looking 'there', and…bloody hell. Arthur couldn't get any piece of his scrambled mind to come together…what exactly had Merlin done to himself?
Several times in the span of twenty seconds, Arthur could have sworn his eyes landed on Merlin's hips no less then a dozen or so times. The way they would gently sway with all the steps Merlin took…Arthur had noticed how the boy had a walk to him that came natural when most women tried to copy a similar style to drag attention to their…assets. But it seemed to be incredibly noticeable now, with the black belt tied around his hips emphasizing just how small and dainty his consort was…was he always that skinny? It was hard for Arthur to see a boy that was taller then him be so incredibly small as well, but he barely thought more on the subject as his eyes fell onto the excess fabric of the belt hanging loose against Merlin's thigh. And for one startling second of pure unabashed clarity, Arthur could have seen Merlin standing in front of him so closely that not even one piece of parchment could have fit between their chest. Merlin's eyes practically daring him as Arthur-with his own eyes glowing with a dark intensity that would have startled him if he could think more clearly-casually reached out and slowly (sensually) removed the belt from around Merlin. The boy cocking an eyebrow as he lifted his wrists up in silent surrender, asking Arthur to be the one to give it to him, before Arthur carefully wrapped up Merlin's wrists. Binding them together so snugly, there'd no doubt be red lines left behind on Merlin's frail wrists when it was taken off.
Arthur's suddenly felt this sudden and intense urge to drink an entire pitcher of wine, his dry throat needing something that would burn on the way down, as his eyes dropped even lower. Arthur couldn't get a real good look at the top half of Merlin's legs-the top he wore so long that the bottom half of it below the belt could have been mistaken for a skirt-and it was no good trying to look at the bottom. Because Merlin's dark black boots hid them from view, encasing his calf's like silk would have. But from what Arthur did see…Arthur could say with certainty that he was seeing far more of his consort then he had ever before. Seeing curves and muscles and oh god, the shapely angels…Arthur hadn't even known his idiot boy had something like that in his possession. And yet there it was, being shown to Arthur's viewing as his eyes roamed up and down with abandonment. Taking in the view as if this was his, and his alone…
And don't even get him started on all the expanse of skin he could see…the only skin actually showing would be Merlin's collarbones. But that was also the one spot Arthur couldn't stop himself from returning to. Again and again and again…it was as if there was nothing but a long line of fresh milk skin that was practically begging for Arthur to leave some kind of mark on. It practically screamed for Arthur to put a hand on it and 'squeeze' ever so gently. Just to see how much Arthur would have to press for the faint forming of a bruise to start erupting beneath his hand. Like a canvas that was waiting to be splattered in different shades of purples and yellows and dark black…Merlin was literally a fucking tease by this point, because there was literally nothing Arthur could do to see a color or three being brought out by Merlin's unique shade…
The way the collarbone brought focus to his shoulders, and the way Arthur couldn't quite see the entire length of it. The prince wouldn't be able too unless he gave into the urge and tugged down the fabric long enough for the blond to get the proper peek he needed at what laid underneath. Just for the prince to satisfy his curiosity about what Merlin had hid this entire time with those baggy clothes of his. Just a little peek that would allow Arthur to get a handle on himself, and keep him satisfied for a few hours until the party would eventually start winding down and Arthur could drag Merlin to his room for a more…proper…inspection. There wouldn't be anymore hiding for Merlin…Arthur would know him inside and out if it was the last thing he did. No more surprises like this to keep him startled and shaken like a dumbstruck deer.
And up and up and up, Arthur's eyes continued to go until it was drawn to the long length of Merlin's neck, where he was just able to see his Adam apple's poking out slightly. But the consort's Adam Apple was usually hidden by Merlin's horrid neckerchief's, so this was probably the first time Arthur was getting a real good look at it. And it looked…just as ordinary as any other man's would have. Which was strange…Arthur would've thought it would look disfigured. Or maybe it might even be so small, it was hardly noticeable, making the other boy look more like a woman than he already did. But clearly, Merlin was no woman. And Arthur was sure this couldn't be the first time he was seeing Merlin without his neckerchief…but it certainly felt like the first time. And all Arthur wanted to do was press his hand down on the boy's throat, right on top of that Adam apple and PRESS. Just to see what kind of reaction he would get…would Merlin sputter and choke with the prince putting pressure against it? Would Merlin let him do it, or would he try to fight him again to get him off…
Arthur was so distracted by Merlin, he hardly noticed when the boy finally reached the bottom of the stairs and landed directly in front of him. But still, the silence continued to be heavy and grow with tension the longer Arthur went without saying a word, continuing to take his fill in on Merlin until he was bloody satisfied with what he saw. Even when the other boy started to fidget, tugging on his sleeves to try covering himself up better, Arthur didn't stop looking. Even when his consort keeping his head down, giving Arthur what could be only described as an unobstructed view of half his face…the prince did not stop LOOKING.
With Merlin closer now, Arthur was able to see just how pale Merlin's face was, matching the rest of his body…he thought with honesty…Merlin's paleness could have competed with a glow left behind by a new moon filling up the sky. Now, most people usually carried around with them some kind of flaw…even if they tried hiding it. Be it wrinkles, or scars, or a little bump here or there…a pimple or two, maybe. But from what Arthur could see…Merlin didn't have anything like that. And Arthur honestly wanted to reach out and touch, just wanting to see rather or not Merlin's skin was as soft as it looked. To see rather or not the sharpness of Merlin's cheekbones was able to mask any softness, or if it would be as just as soft as the rest of him would be.
And yet…Merlin continued to keep his eyes focused on the floor as if the stones were more interesting then the prince in front of him. And all Arthur wanted to do was grab onto his chin, capturing the small muscle between his fingertips and forcing the boy's head up so Arthur could continue and continue and continue looking at him. So he could see more of Merlin's blue eyes, instead of just his eyelashes that kept his lowered eyes from view, framing around the apple of his cheek. Could see rather or not Merlin's tousled hair framed his face better then the wild mess it usually was. Could see if those pink lips, brighter and darker amongst the expanse of pale flesh, was as raw bitten as they had been when the prince had hit him. So he could see, well…everything. There was something stopping the prince from doing this though, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what it was, when his eyes dropped lower for the umpteenth time.
The links of chain…the design going down along the upmost top of Merlin's shirt…it looked like chains, was the only thing Arthur could compare them too. And how could Arthur look at this design and not think of the iron shackles that he had being commissioned right this moment? How was he meant to look at that shirt-see those links of chains forever being engraved into his mind just like the taste of a fine wine may have-and NOT think of what he was going to be doing with Merlin later on. How could he look at Merlin and not imagine those links moving up only a few inches, materializing into a physical shape, and wrapping themselves firmly around the consort's throat. Constricting his breathing…making every breath he took only be because Arthur was willing to allow him to breathe.
The only problem was the color…Arthur had thought Merlin might actually look good-like he was worth something-if the prince had him draped from head to toe in gold. Had Merlin held down with golden chains heavier then he was…pierced even, if he felt like it, with more gold…a golden collar just to show off what Arthur could afford for his boy. But he'd been so obsessed with seeing Merlin in gold, it hadn't occurred to him that Merlin might look good in other colors as well. And that was definitely something the prince was going to have to expand on later. Now that Arthur had seen the flashes of those silver links, could imagine what they might look like if the color was pressed against Merlin's skin, the two shades so similar and luminescent…he just knew he couldn't let this go. One of these days, Arthur was going to have many more commissions made with a variety of colors. Colors he could choose for whatever he was in the mood for…
Gold…silver…Arthur's head nearly spun when he imagined the two colors. Imagined them intermingling with bits of red as Merlin bled…imagining leaning forward and licking a drop of blood from Merlin's back as it slid from a fresh welt long before it could go low enough to stain the chains. Being able to taste the potent fear in the air, taste it upon his lips when he withdrew from Merlin's back…fucking hell. Even the black of Merlin's clothes was doing something to him…when he'd first started having thoughts like this, one of the first he had was Merlin wearing a black leather collar. Something soft or supple…and seeing how that color also looked good against Merlin's skin…he couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake with Merlin's commissioned. If he should have gone for the black instead of the gold…
And the words Morgana had spoken earlier when she'd been fussing at him about Merlin almost seemed to hit him upside the head. Lovely creature…that was what Lady Morgana had the nerve to call Merlin to Arthur's face. A…lovely creature…but lovely creatures were not meant to describe any boy like Merlin. The title 'lovely creature' was meant only for actual woodland creatures. Things girls might find cute if they saw them on a ride through the woods or was traveling to some other place. Like bunnies or squirrels or deers. Arthur could have gotten behind calling Merlin a creature, because there wasn't a soul alive that could be as wild as the Merlin Arthur had first met. But lovely would have been taking it a step too far…ridiculous even.
At least it would have been…before now. Before Merlin went out of his way and finally got himself all dolled up like Arthur had wanted him too. Before he waited here for over a bloody hour just for his brat to finally show up, and…he'd obviously dressed to impress. But that brought with it this whole new set of problems for him to address, didn't it? Arthur wanted to gnash his teeth as the surge of irritation renewed itself in his blood…for a brief second there, he had forgotten Merlin was a bloody whore. He had obviously dressed for the sheer purpose of impressing somebody, and Arthur knew it would most certainly not be Merlin actually wanting to dress up for Arthur's viewing pleasure.
So who did Merlin think he would be impressing during the banquet where he was meant to be hanging off of Arthur's arm. Was it that bloody knight Merlin had been with earlier that day? But that couldn't be it, because Arthur had taken the time already to check the records. And knew the Knight known as Erick was going to be delivering the nights 'thank you for attending' notices his father had worked up, under the doors of all the nobles who had attended. He would be nowhere near the banquet, which was good news for him, as Arthur didn't think he would be able to stand the knight trying to stalk around his husband so noticeably. But surely even Merlin would know his little pet boyfriend wouldn't be there to see him all dressed up tonight. Unless Merlin had a ridiculous plan to meet up with the knight afterwards…but it seemed as if Arthur was just gonna have to burst that little bubble, wouldn't he?
Unless Merlin was all dressed up for other reasons? Sure, it could have been because Arthur had ordered him too earlier but he had clearly gone above and beyond what Arthur had been expecting. Perhaps he expected to find another to try taking his little boyfriend's place for the night, was planning on seducing away one of the other guards so he could have a bit of fun on the side while Arthur was trying to do all the wining and dining of Bayard with his father. Unless…unless it was Bayard Merlin wanted to seduce. Arthur had saw all the signs earlier, after all. The little connection that had formed between the two of them somehow, right before his eyes. A man like Bayard-while way older than somebody Arthur had figured Merlin would go for-was a rich and powerful man. It was a trait that attracted the bottom feeders like Merlin…he would clearly need to keep a close watch between the two of them if Merlin tried to make something of that little…tiny…connection.
But until then…
"Why the bloody hell are you dressed like that?" Arthur told the boy in a rather rude and demanding tone of voice, even if it was something Arthur clearly liked. Merlin flinched with an almost violent surprise when being spoken to so sudden after all the quiet, but Arthur hardly cared. He was already leaving forward, trying to scan his eyes better over Merlin's neck, trying to see if there was anything he should be more concerned about. Like love bites, perhaps…decorating their way around Merlin's neck like a different kind of collar. One meant for those in romantic-or sexual-entanglements. With Merlin's whorish way-and because they were about to enter a room filled with the most powerful men that lived inside of this kingdom and the next-one couldn't be too careful. And Arthur had left him alone with his boyfriend, so there wasn't any telling what they had gotten to after he'd left. But as the prince had already seen…Merlin's neck looked as smooth as it had probably looked the day he was born. There were not any signs of red splotches vaguely shaped like a mouth, but that also didn't mean anything. It either meant Merlin's little boy toy wasn't the type to leave marks-which Arthur wasn't able to understand. What was the point of doing anything if one didn't leave their mark like a stamp of territory or brand being marked into the skin-or he had been smart enough to only leave those kinds of marks in places that wasn't going to be seen by others. Smart…but this was going to drive him batshit crazy until he could get Merlin to his room and strip him of his clothing and check him over himself. Arthur didn't want to leave his own marks until Merlin was clear from any others, sort of like starting fresh on a new canvas that would be entirely meant for himself. And really, who wanted to play with something that was dirty? "I suppose you must've just really wanted to dress the part and show yourself off to that boyfriend of yours since you went all out."
Arthur gave a sniff of his nose in disgust, but even he knew he was being ridiculous by this point. He should have been happy Merlin wasn't going to embarrass him-at least not in his choice of outfit, this time. The jury was still out when it came to his behavior-but he wasn't happy. Merlin had gone and somehow managed to make Arthur think he was some bloody concubine! Before he had finally recognized him. It was pretty universal when somebody was a concubine, that they served under one 'master'. But it wasn't strange for the more lecherous men to try and get a taste…some might try to appeal to the master directly and offer some sort of odd trade to have the concubine entertain them for the night. Or they might be greedy and think they have a right to grab the arse of said concubine. Because apparently…what else was somebody meant to do when confronted with this beautiful young thing who was known for selling her body for all the comforts of nobility without any of the commitment coming with actually being one.
Now…Arthur knew nobody was stupid enough to make such a bold gesture when he was right beside his consort. And it was pretty much a given that he would be picking his steak knife up and burying it into the offending hand if somebody actually tried it, all the way up to the hilt. But that definitely did not stop Arthur's anxiety from going straight up through the roof. Couldn't Merlin make this easy for Arthur, for once in his life! Arthur wasn't happy with Merlin showing up to an event in his normal clothes. And he wasn't happy whenever Merlin showed up in proper clothes. But anything would be better then Arthur trying to play 'keep away' all night while also doing his princely duties to entertain the king-who may very well be one of those lecherous men he needed to keep an eye on-and his father. And it didn't help him at all if that consort of his was actually receptive towards anybody who tried eyeing him up. Arthur wasn't even gay! And could tell Merlin would be drawing some eyes tonight.
There were absolutely no telling how many perverts were in the great hall at this very moment, just waiting to ogle at his consort. Nobles were meant to be better behaved then the common filth or the street-despite the few bad eggs who'd see nothing wrong with just grabbing a concubines assets-but this was also a group who had no problems on allowing their eyes to linger if they saw something they wanted but knew not even they could have. But just imagining what the other people were thinking…imagining old men wishing they had a chance with Merlin (not yet knowing that chance may be a very real possibility if Merlin was inclined towards it)-did Arthur's blood pressure absolutely no favors.
And just imagine! What if Arthur wasn't able to contain the rumors outside of the castle, what if Mercia knights started to hear them? Would the respect they were meant to show his consort go away if they knew he was all used up? Would they also expect to have a turn with Merlin before they left…as if Merlin was some sort of parting gift and a thank you for agreeing to this treaty, before being discarded like a simple used carriage. Others might not notice, but…Merlin's lack of neckerchief almost felt as if it was some kind of invitation for others to do what they wanted. And Arthur was almost overcome with some insane urge to rip his own jacket away from his shoulders and bundle Merlin up inside of it. Arthur would do practically anything to get Merlin covered up just a bit more. And besides, if Merlin's wedding ring wasn't a sign of ownership. Then surely people would recognize a way too large jacket as being Arthur's and would get the message to back the hell off. So Arthur could focus fully on the signing of the treaty, and not on rather or not his consort would take the first opportunity to disappear into some corner with any random man.
"Ah…Arthur…"
Merlin's voice was painfully quiet and the consort winced as he kept his eyes focused sorely on his feet. That wasn't the response he was hoping to give…fucking hell. He wanted to come down here and be an absolute savage, had wanted to be so absolutely horrible…that was half the reason for doing all of this anyway, wasn't it? So Merlin could force his hand like he'd been thinking about ever since Gaius had patched him all up. But then he had actually seen Arthur standing at the bottom of the stairs, and now he was in front of him and let's just say…it was easier for Merlin to think up a far better plan when Arthur wasn't standing right in front of him. And saying mean things about him and his apparent boyfriend all over again. His insides quivered, but…why shouldn't Merlin be a little scared?
Death itself was a very scary thing. Being tossed straight to the unknown, not knowing if there was really peace waiting on the other side. A place where loved ones long gone had been waiting for you to join them so they could reunite. Not knowing if perhaps it was just endless darkness waiting for you once your number was up. Just fading into an endless void like one would when they were going to sleep, only to never wake up. Not knowing if instead…an eternity of pain and agonizing fire was waiting to burn and burn and burn till you couldn't remember what your human life had been, and what you had done to earn this place here. But death would always be a mystery. One that would forever go unsolved no matter how many 'experiments' or scientific discoveries was going to come by.
But there also came a time in every young man's life-maybe that was just Merlin though, and not every young man-when he finally asked himself the hard question. Was life really all that cracked up to be? Was it worth living when all the pain was an everyday occurrence? Was the chance of dying, and finding out even endless darkness was what happened after the body could no longer house the soul, worth forcing one to do the unthinkable? Merlin liked to think it would be, and that was why he had to be much stronger then the absolute pitiful version of himself that Arthur turned him into. Merlin couldn't chicken out now, couldn't fall back into his newest habit of trying to cater to Arthur to get him to leave him the bloody hell alone. Because if he did…Merlin almost feared it would never end. He feared if he didn't do something 'now', then he most likely never would. And if Merlin was going to really force Arthur to be the one to do it, then…he needed to step up his game.
Now.
"I think that you should be a bit more careful when you say things like that about me." Merlin said, still keeping his eyes focused on the floor by his feet, forcing his voice to emerge just a bit louder, though it felt as if sandpaper was scraping the insides of his throat. But he could do this, he only had to get over this one hump. To get himself started. If Merlin was able to say something rude and scathing, something he may have said before Arthur had worn him down into becoming absolute nothingness, then the rest would come easier. Or it was the hope, at least. "…Somebody might assume that this is just your really passive aggressive way of saying that I do look pretty."
Merlin nearly crumbled himself into a ball after such a bold remark…after all the fits Arthur had thrown about not being gay and how Merlin wasn't doing it for him, throwing it in his face and insinuating he thought Merlin as anything besides an annoying pest was almost asking for a punch across his cheek this time, hard enough to shatter the bone. But that was okay…Merlin didn't expect for Arthur to just pull out a dagger from nowhere and stab him in the gut. That kind of intense reaction would have been even more ridiculous then being accused as a whore in front of the entire kingdom. No …there had to be some kind of build up to this. There had to be some kind of pain he would have to experience before he could finally leave this earthly plain. And now that that he'd gotten through the first hurdle, he only needed to be brave enough to do the one thing he had been dreading since he'd left his uncle's…show off the bruises across his face as if he was proud to be a survivor, rather then falling into the trope of a victim. Even though a survivor was the exact opposite of what he felt like being…could one really be called out as a survivor, if their ultimate goal was to die anyway?
"You little bitch." Arthur suddenly said, his eyes burning as if they were on fire, intensifying their blue shade. There was a short burst of heat flaring up somewhere in his gut, just this low throbbing of warmth and fire somewhere below his own belly button that threatened to spread out and try taking all of him whole. Arthur mistook this flare of heat as a sudden rage building up inside of him over Merlin's smart mouth but there was a tinge of excitement there as well. It had been far too long since Arthur had heard such sarcastic quips being launched at him by his consort, and it gave him even more surety that he was doing the right thing by moving ahead on his plans and enforcing his new life on Merlin. If Arthur was just a little less emotionally constipated and less blinded by his hatred over Merlin, perhaps he could've recognized this heat as a stirring of arousal trying to make itself known. Or a stirring in his neither regions that went entirely ignored with his focus entirely on Merlin, trying to get the boy to say and do even more dumb things that would increase how harshly Arthur would decide their first session would go, "Are you so dumb, that you really haven't learned your lesson yet! Or do I seriously have to spell it out for you. You. Do not. Get to go talking. To me. Like. Tha-"
Arthur's indignation and outrageous sputtering was abruptly cut off when Merlin raised his head up into the light. Giving the prince his very first look at his consort's complete and utterly disfigured face. At first, Arthur didn't even know just what he was seeing…perhaps Merlin had decided to try his hand at playing with makeup, and hadn't wiped his own face off properly when it didn't turn out right. But the longer that his eyes traced rapidly across the molted bruises that were decorating half of Merlin's face, completely transforming his consort from the almost angelic and acceptable noble he'd been meant to be, into something that was a lot more horrid and disgusting, the more he realized…this wasn't any kind of art project going wrong. This was real...and while Arthur trailed his eyes down the sliced opened cut on his lips, and back up to where his right eye looked like it trying to swell itself shut…the prince could've sworn he lost any semblance of thought.
Arthur could feel his lips moving up and down, but not one word formed on his lips. Not one syllable was able to exit his mouth, or come off his tongue. Hell, Arthur could have gone and swallowed his own tongue at this point, for all the good it was doing for him now. But it felt as if there was this circle of light surrounding him and Merlin, bright enough for them to be in the spotlight, but allowing nobody else to enter into a world that was entirely their own. If they had been outside during this, then Arthur wouldn't have been able to hear any sound of crickets, or people, or wildlife. Not when there was a ringing forming inside the depths of Arthur's eardrums as he struggled to understand exactly what was going on with a brain that suddenly seemed to turn sluggish on him.
This was…this was…this was not happening, the prince had managed to think, as this cold shard of panic started a slow course to rip through his entire body. As if he had swallowed a thousand different tiny shards of glass and now they were getting caught in his throat, dripping down into his stomach and intestines and ripping him open as he tried his hardest to swallow. But such an action would only result in all of his organs being torn to shreds as the glass continued traveling throughout his body. Making him bleed from the inside out, with no hope of survival…there were just too many pieces to pull out of him if he ended up on Gaius' surgical table. And it was too late for him, Arthur's face turning an ashen color as his brain finally connected the dots he already knew but had not wanted to admit.
He had done this…Arthur had been the one to put all those horrid markings on his face. He was the reason Merlin was decorated as he was now. He had been the one who'd been dumb enough to hit Merlin right before the biggest event to happen since they'd married. And he had most definitely not been shy about it. Arthur had put every bit of force that had been building up inside of him since he'd met Merlin into his swing. And now here Arthur was, being confronted with his own handiwork for the very first time. Able to see what the colors of a rainbow-red from the cut on his lip, purple from the dark bruises, yellow surrounding the edges of it-looked like when they were on Merlin's skin.
And it was absolutely beautiful.
All this time, where Arthur had daydreamed about just what it would look like when Merlin was marked or scarred by his hand. What different colors would go bursting from Merlin's skin as Arthur played with his body, testing his limits to see how far he could go before he was broken. All the times he had been dying to do something like this…and now that he had gotten a taste for it…it was this pure euphoric feeling he had been left behind with. Arthur only wished it hadn't gone and happened right before the banquet. But other then that little fallback…Arthur could feel the dull heat returning to his stomach now that the initial shock was over. His eyes would continue tracing across those bruises for several long, silent minutes to come as Arthur combated his inner desire.
Because Arthur didn't just want to stare at those bruises. He didn't want to just trace them with his eyes until he was able to memorize the exact look. Until he was able to remember the exact lines of where the bruises ended and where they begin every time he closed his eyes. Until he knew exactly where the shades of color started shifting and turning much lighter the higher up it went. He didn't just want to be able to explain to someone that the yellowing shade looked like a dying sun, or how the purple looked the exact same shade of the violet flowers that grew along the edges of the castle walls every spring. He wanted far more then that…
He wanted to touch.
Arthur wanted to cup his hand-hot and heavy and maybe it was a bit sweaty from untoward nerves-around the bruises on Merlin's cheek. He wanted to feel the consort as he was quivering beneath his touch. Wanted to know if there was a difference in feeling between the bruises and Merlin's more regular and untainted flesh. He wanted the chance to slide his hand down, slow and firm, until he could press his thumb against the vivid cut left behind on Merlin's lip. Arthur had known Merlin had bled a little, the blood that had been left on his ring was a pretty good indicator, but nothing would be able to compete with seeing that lip bleed in reality. Now if only Arthur could dig his thumbnail into Merlin's cut, and watch as Merlin hiss in pain as it split back open, the fresh river of blood sliding from the corner of his mouth and down his chin in a smooth line of red against pale flesh.
And if Arthur was strong enough to gain the courage, strong enough to face Merlin's shocked reaction…maybe he would lean forward just a bit. Maybe he would press his hand, firm and strong and unyielding, against the underside of Merlin's chin. Press it up until Merlin's neck was forced into this very uncomfortable arch. And maybe Arthur would allow himself to give into the desire to taste. Allow himself to press close so his lips could dance teasingly along Merlin's jawbone, his nose bumping playfully against Merlin's lower cheek. Before he gave Merlin soft licks, tonguing the red river of blood up and down until he could no longer taste the coppery iron of his blood. Until he could taste nothing other then what had to be his own saliva mixed with something that was going to be unmistakably Merlin.
Morgana had been right…
Arthur had brutalized Merlin…
And he wished he had done it much sooner.
