A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

128. Chapter 129

Contrary to popular belief-or contrary to Arthur's belief-the Consort of his Nightmares was not laughing. Though he was smiling, that much Merlin was willing to admit. If only for the sheer audacity and irony of what Arthur had just done…over how Arthur had just 'apologized' to him. As if he thought his back handed apology would be the one thing to make Merlin swoon and grab onto his arm like a maiden. Maybe he would have the first time Arthur had apologized to him-for refusing to listen about Valiant at first-but Merlin was no little simple minded maiden. Not anymore. Or maybe he never was.

It was hard to imagine a time where Merlin would've started grinning, a blush staining high across his cheeks before he'd grab onto the muscular arm in front of him. Maybe he would have even been giggling, as Arthur carted him into the room to mingle among his colleagues and friends and family and a good dozen or so more people neither one of them had met in their entire lives. Feeling a touch embarrassed perhaps as he wondered rather or not Arthur was as happy to have him be the one on his arm, as Merlin was happy to be there. But staring at the arm practically under his nose now, the small sorcerer was left to wonder…why did Arthur immediately go and assume Merlin would be the one clinging to his arm. He was a bloody man too, so why couldn't Arthur be the one to take his arm instead?

But, Merlin figured it would be quite the marvel concept for the prince-such a hot headed man, a complete prude if one thought about it-if the consort merely suggested they do an outrageous idea such as that. Arthur would probably try and throw one of his famous fits before accusing Merlin of trying to turn him gay. Because holding onto another man's arm as they attended a banquet together was more gay then being …you know…together through the actual feast. That kind of fight was most certainly not worth the hassle it was going to bring with it, so Merlin shook the notion out of his head. And knowing grudgingly-he'd heard before, of people asking just who the girl was in a relationship between men. And he had always thought it was so stupid. Because wasn't the point of a relationship between two men, was that there wasn't any girl to speak of-that Arthur probably considered him as the girl.

But girl he was not.

"…You have spoken like a true abuser." Merlin said quietly as he brought up one of his hands and grabbed onto the crook of Arthur's elbow-a sense of revulsion rolling through him at the touch of Arthur's jacket rubbing beneath his fingertips…knowing he was touching Arthur voluntarily-and pushed the offending limb out of his face. Where he could breath easier without Arthur's scent wasn't filling his lungs every time he inhaled. But when he saw Arthur's eyes narrow sharply and saw he was opening his mouth to scream at him, he started to talk first, his voice deceptively calm, lest it go and betray the strong urge he had to throw up for the second time this day. "If you are going to apologize, you can at least pretend and make it sound good. Otherwise, you only end up being looked at as if you are some kind of demented old fool."

And Arthur was growling low in his throat, and Merlin could hear the threat in it. And not for the first time today, he was able to feel the white hot flash of pure fear screaming to get away. To run and hide somewhere far better then the simple cleaning closet Gaius had found him in before Arthur turned from verbal abuser, to physical abuser. But Merlin had to do this…he needed to get this out. And so he stayed put, trying to ignore the way his knees were threatening to give out on him. If Merlin did succeed with his plan, and if he did end up dying today, then the least Arthur could do was stand there and listen to his dying words. How many times had he stood there and listened to Arthur ranting and raving about how he was an absolute horrible human being. How many times had Merlin stood there and been mocked, or yelled at, or treated as if he was a parasite or pariah?

…It was time for Arthur to listen to his own faults.

Actually listen.

And maybe the next unfortunate soul that married into this family, wouldn't be as unlucky as he was.

"You apologized. That's great. Whoop-de-doo for you. Your conscious is clear, and you might even get some reward for lowering yourself to apologize to a peasant." Merlin spit the words out, not being sarcastic in the least. The earnest from his tongue was enough to speak volumes to any decent man listening. But Arthur was no decent man. Perhaps if the man had been, they would have never gotten to this point. Merlin jabbed himself in the chest roughly, indicating that this was about 'him'. And how he wasn't going to let Arthur twist his words around until it made Merlin look as if he was the bad guy in this story again. "But you don't even care about your conscious, do you? I honestly don't think you even have one at this point. Apologizing to somebody can go a long way, it involves admitting you made a mistake and you trying to go and make amends. But you and I are far past that point. We have been for a very long time and you know it. I don't think a sincere apology would make me go in there and behave as you want me too. And yet, you somehow think that crap you just gave me is somehow enough?"

Merlin shook his head ruthfully, and he could see the red on Arthur's cheekbones, flushing with anger. It was obvious the prince didn't care to listen to what he thought of as just a bit of whining from Merlin. But did Merlin really want to be quiet and die later, knowing he'd allowed Arthur to do the one and only thing not a soul before him had managed to do in all of the nineteen years Merlin had been alive: keep him silent. It wasn't the kind of legacy Merlin wanted to leave before. The consort 'wanted' Arthur to remember him after he was gone and 'know' that Merlin hadn't been afraid of him. Even if the consort could feel the wet shimmer in his eyes, could feel as if he wanted to curl into a fetal position, and shake until the night ended and he could crawl back home without any soul seeing him. Scared shitless or not…throwing insults or being a sarcastic shit like he had been, wasn't going to get Merlin anywhere. Neither was the truth of Merlin's woes. But…they owouldn't be bottled up himself of him anymore, right?

Some might have called it bravery. Merlin trying to stick up for himself this one last time, knowing any breath could be his last as Arthur decided his rambles had grown tiresome.

But Merlin wouldn't cal it bravery at all.

He certainly didn't feel like he was brave.

More desperate, perhaps. Sticky with sweat, definitely.

But brave?

Never.

"I mean, not only am I going to have to walk around with this disgusting thing on my face for however long-" Merlin said, as he jabbed his thumb at his bruised cheek and split lip. He didn't touch it though, knowing that it would only send light throbs of pain through him if he tried to prod at it. "But now, thanks to you, I'm going to know my husband is some kind of neanderthal who solves all of his problems with his fists instead of his words." And Merlin shuddered, eluding to how Arthur had literally admitted seconds before that he had no problem with hitting Merlin again. His whole entire life really had became the thing he had feared when he had first heard he was going to be marrying a stranger. The only thing that would be the cherry on top of this crap-tastic cake was if he got found out about his magic. But hopefully, he could end up in his grave without that secret being revealed. "I will be forced to think-every damn time I try to go into the market-about today. And how you screamed at me in the middle of the street and…and…and beat me!-" Merlin could feel it as his voice crackled dangerously, in a way that he couldn't say had happened since he was fifteen and his voice started to go through 'the change'. "In front of everybody! And why did you do this? Why…because of a damn fucking rumor that is not true!"

Merlin recognized his voice had grown too high pitched, to an almost hysterical level. And he gave a full body shudder once again, his throat working to push down the lump that had grown. And he took several long and deep breaths-the kind that was so ragged and screamed he needed to take a minute-to try and call himself down. The bones inside of his chest was literally shaking, and Merlin was just pleased with himself, for managing to get those words out. But he was so damn terrified as well. Because Arthur wasn't saying a word to Merlin all but baring his soul in front of him. The man was allowing Merlin to have his say, but he had a awful stubborn look in his eyes, as if whatever Merlin said was going to end up in one ear and go straight through the other. As if he had no brain in between that would connect with what the young consort was trying to get through to him. And maybe Merlin was a little crazy, maybe he was finally losing his touch with reality…maybe Arthur was making him crazy by acting like it was Merlin-who only wanted to be treated decent. Hell, the consort would have settled for 'tolerated' at this point now-who was in the wrong. Because he laughe He laughed even though nothing was funny.

Because he knew if he didn't laugh, he was going to start ugly crying. Screaming. Causing one hell of a scene when the noise inevitably finally drew people to them. And it was going to go down in Camelot history as the day Merlin had lost all semblance of control.

"But, I suppose I was expecting a little too much from a man like you." Merlin said only when his bitter laughter had died down. Though he still smiled, feeling the gruesome pulling of the split on his lip threatening to start bleeding again. He needed to smile. Because it was better then spewing Arthur with curses that would never land as strongly as the hit his husband had landed on him. Because he knew he couldn't fight back the same…without his magic, Arthur was far more stronger then he was. And if Merlin hit first, Arthur could go and claim some bullshit about self-defense. As if Merlin was not fighting back in his own defense. "I mean, you really do not seem to learn, do you? You don't take experiences that happen and learn so that it won't happen again. You just go and make the same mistakes over and over again without a fail. I have almost come to expect it from you by this point."

Merlin wouldn't act like some kind of saint who never made a mistake in his life. Some might even say his mistakes were worse then Arthur's. Because at least Arthur's mistake had not almost ended a life…almost ended Gwen's last month. It was a terrible experience, but at least Merlin had learned his lesson the hard way. Had learned to be more careful when it came to where and how he used his magic when there were others involved. But Merlin hadn't been the only one to take all of the mistakes that had happened during that time. The prince had made a few mistakes of his own that Merlin knew he had never owned up too. And if Merlin was doing a poor job of defending himself, perhaps he would do better when it came to defending Gwen.

"Or did you forget all about Gwen. You jumped to the wrong conclusions with her, just as you did with me. Now I have all the marks to prove it. And Gwen was arrested. She might be free but…" Merlin stopped himself abruptly. Before he could tell Arthur any of the problem Gwen was facing. There was a certain stigma that came with being accused of witchcraft…and it mattered very little to some people if somebody was lucky enough to get pardoned. But those were Gwen's own personal issues. It was one thing to blurt out his own in the face of a tyrant. But he couldn't betray Gwen and share the struggles she had with the man that had caused them. The consort shook his head ruthfully, before changing his words some. "You have no idea the damage you are causing to the people around you. And what's worse? You do not even care long enough to look around and see it for yourself. All I hear is excuses after excuses over your bad behavior, and I don't think I've let to hear a soul make you accountable for any of your actions? Why? Because they can't upset bloody Prince Arthur with the truth, can they? But I cannot say I care much for upsetting you. I'm going to do that anyway. So I guess I'll just have to ask you to 'forgive me, my prince' for having the nerve to dare speak out against your tyranny. And for having no interest in playing the happy couple with you more than I have to, to get through tonight."

And Arthur was hearing Merlin, but he also wasn't hearing what Merlin was telling him. Pleading, almost. With eyes so raw it made even Arthur Pendragon look away from him. The prince, as far as he was concerned, was insulted. By each of the words that came from Merlin's mouth. Every last one the consort had uttered through his teeth. Merlin had went and called him a neanderthal, for crying out loud. That one thing right there would have been enough for Arthur to knock out the boy's teeth. But what was a consort who didn't have all of his teeth? And what was Arthur for marrying a man who'd lost all of his so young?

A deviant, that's who.

But Arthur was already a deviant, if one considered his plan for the boy. If only Merlin had learned to keep his trap shut, the prince would have gone so much easier on him. His little reward for lying to Clarissa about his bruises. But now…the prince had this white hot rage wrapping itself all around his heart. And it was a miracle he didn't lay hands on Merlin this instant. But how many times had Arthur already considered trying to do something to the boy here and now. Arthur did not, most certainly, appreciate the way Merlin was trying to flip things around on him. Did not appreciate Merlin bringing up old issues like Gwen, during a present argument. And he most certainly, did not appreciate, the way Merlin had went and called him a tyrant.

When he had not even seen the kind of tyrant Arthur would become when it came to his consort.

But soon…that constant whispering in the back of his mind kept promising him, was the only thing keeping him calmed down to a reasonable agree. The dark promise of what soon would bring to him. He just had to keep thinking that…soon …Merlin would regret ever trying to provoke him. Soon, the consort would be all his in every way imaginable. And he'd never have to be a part of these tired old arguments for as long as either of them should live.

"…I know that I have said this to you once before, but I do think I have to remind you again…you don't get to talk to me like that." Arthur said, in a light voice. As if the darkness that stirred in his veins wasn't getting restless and desperate. As if that darkness wasn't urging him to throw himself ahead so he could tackle Merlin to the ground. Take him down, and do …Arthur didn't know what he would do after that. There was

no actual plan amongst the many real ones Arthur'd already made that included being done in the middle of the hallway. But whatever he decided…it would have been glorious. And most likely involved bathing in Merlin's blood like some kind of deranged lunatic. "Now, I will admit I made a mistake with Gwen, but I refuse your claims that I didn't do my job to the best of my abilities. She had a poultice in her home. There's very little I could have done to argue against that. And there is no reason to poke around in the rumors about you. I know they are true, just as I know you make very poor decisions. I also know that you-" and here, Arthur scanned his eyes up and down Merlin's body decidedly slow. Taking in the tight pants and boots and collarbone baring top, and the bruises as if he was seeing all of this for the very first time. Making sure to linger until he could see Merlin start squirming…and already unknowingly under Arthur's power. Arthur was sure to hold back his smirk, already anticipating just how much it was going to be fun to break Merlin down, build him back up and then do it all over again. "Have very poor control when it comes to your impulses. As I'm sure you remember when you ran full force into a cavern holding that beast when you were alone. It's not a large leap to think your impulses also extend to the company you keep."

Merlin knew exactly what Arthur was talking about when he said 'don't get to talk to me like that'. He could remember it like it was yesterday, the day after they had met when he'd been followed through the marketplace by Arthur. He'd been so different just those short months ago. Sarcastic and rude and thought himself to be quite funny…until Arthur swung a mace at his head. Maybe that should've been his first clue that things between them weren't going to work out in the long run. Not even with being simple acquaintances who got together once a month or so to put on a show for all of the

people. But he hadn't. And Merlin had paid the price for all of that nativity. But he wanted to be done with not seeing all the things for what they were. Wanted to be done making all these decisions that turned out to be the wrong call. Merlin knew what he wanted now. And what he wanted was to give Arthur the blade that would strike him down.

"…You really are projecting hard, aren't you?" Merlin asked the prince, with a shallow swallow. Trying to ignore the icy cold grip being held against his heart…he didn't want to see Arthur's eyes on him. Didn't like how it made him feel…as if he was vulnerable. These clothes were supposed to be like an army almost. Meant to shield him as he played a part he had been given. Like the warriors and tribal men of old who faced their enemies with war paint across their faces. But it wasn't working. He wasn't covered enough. These clothes were far too thick and suffocating and Arthur made him feel as if he was looking straight through him. But Merlin started all of this, hadn't he? So why shouldn't he at least try just a bit harder and finish what he started. Even if it left him being emotionally drained after. "My impulses? My actions in that cave saved lives. But you have impulses too. Or did you plan to hit me that day?"

Arthur would deny to his dying day that he started blushing at that. But luckily, his already red with anger face would be enough to cover it up. And Arthur's eyes lingered again, on the splashes of color that decorated Merlin's face. He knew the answer…but did he really want to admit to Merlin that he had simply lost control of his faculties. He'd always planned on hurting Merlin after discovering the rumors. But the way it had all gone about…it had definitely been done without his conscious thought. The next hit against Merlin would be far more deliberate and sure. And so would the next one. And the one after that…but that was probably going to be one of the hardest lessons Arthur would have to tech himself. How to control his 'impulses' as Merlin had called them, when he always made Arthur so mad and furious. Arthur didn't have any plans on holding back with Merlin. But…he knew he was liable to go too far or do more then he wanted too, if he did not keep his anger in check. Which was why now seemed to be the perfect time for some practice. If Arthur could make it through tonight without giving into his urges early, then…it meant he wouldn't slice Merlin to ribbons long before either of them were actually ready for the consequences of such a thing.

"And you don't get a say in the company that I keep. Maybe if you were around more, I wouldn't be keeping company at all." Merlin sneered, and Arthur could feel a bit of his tightly contained control starting to chip away a little piece by little piece. The control he had just managed to get a handle on…or thought he had anyway. How bloody like Merlin, trying to blame Arthur for him being a whore. As if they were lovers in that sense, and Arthur spent too much time away from their home until Merlin decided to get his attention by dangling a new 'friend' in front of him. "And before you even start with me. I am talking about Gwen. You know, the girl who I have been seeing everyday since I got here. Kinda sad to see her more then my own husband, isn't it? But you know what she also is? The girl you never apologized too. I can admit…that poultice didn't help matters, and I can see how it can cause heads to turn. But I also bet you never once thought to try and apologize to her for the ordeal you put her though. Like I said, apologies can sometimes go a long way. But I bet that is one lesson that was skipped over with you growing up."

Arthur's control frayed a little more…it was bad enough the consort had gotten Arthur to apologize to him not only once but twice as well. But now he wanted Arthur to apologize to a serving girl…wasn't her life being pardoned enough? Fuck, surely it wouldn't hurt if Arthur gave Merlin a little shove into the stone wall behind him. Surely it wouldn't hurt for Arthur to pin Merlin there with his body, forcing the boy to feel how bloody strong Arthur was when compared to himself. Plant a bloody hand over that boy's mouth and hiss in his ear to just shut the fuck up for once, before Arthur did something that was dangerously stupid. Like removing the boy's tongue out of the cavern he called a mouth. But no…those thoughts felt like waving meat in front of a dog. And Arthur would end up being the dog, Merlin his meat. And like all dogs…the prince couldn't say he disliked the taste of fresh meat. Maybe a bit of his teeth marks digging into the boy's jugular, biting with enough danger that it could cut through something that was important in the boy's throat. Perhaps the cords in his neck that worked his voice box…but Merlin would've been mighty boring if Arthur couldn't hear him screaming…

"But hey, I'm sure you don't want to stand here all night and talk about my issues with you. In fact, I'm pretty sure that is the last thing either of us feel like doing right now." Said the consort, and Arthur straightened his back. Inwardly nodding to himself. Now 'that' sounded a little bit better. As if Merlin might finally be getting on board instead of trying to force a past issue that had no reverence to today, onto Arthur. "But I do know, if you don't really want to hear it. I'm sure you've got you're little girlfriend you can go running back too. I am sure she will love to stroke the thing you call an ego."

And Arthur could have sworn he heard the sound of echoing in his eardrums…something-like his control-splinting into all different directions. Crackling beyond repair until it was this misshapen form. Something that didn't even look like it was a shield meant to keep Arthur in line before he had the right opportunity to break free. Good god….Arthur had thought it once and he would think it again. Nearly sleeping with Lady Clarissa was the worse mistake of his life. Simply because Merlin could not stop bringing her up! As if Arthur's almost attempt at pleasure was anything close to what Merlin had been doing. That bloody hypocrite. Arthur wanted to shove Merlin down onto the ground and bash his bloody head into the floor until he stopped kicking. Or moving altogether. Till there was a cracked head underneath him and blood trying to pool out of the skull like the yolk would in a broken egg.

"BLOODY STOP IT MERLIN!" Arthur practically screamed as loud as he could, bringing a hand up to press harshly along the side of his head. Trying to ease the pounding inside his head that screamed at him…dealing with Merlin and putting him in his place over the next few decades might not be as worth it as he was thinking. Would seeing Merlin trembling underneath him, submitting at his feet beautifully, simpering before his master…be the most delicious thing in the world? Why, yes. Yes it would. But the next fifty or sixty years-if life should allow them to die from old age-of having to deal with having jabs thrown at him about Clarissa…he just knew he'd have an aneurism before he was thirty. "I bloody swear, if I have to hear her name come from your bloody lips one more time, then maybe…" an idea struck Arthur. A great one that made the pounding in his head ease up just a little…Merlin didn't know about the clause in the contract, after all. That he could get the kingdom if Arthur dishonored him. Well…it was time to use that to his advantage and do something he would have never done in front of his father. Admitting that he wanted Clarissa…if only to drive Merlin inside. "You know I might just do that. Make Clarissa my girlfriend. With all the boy toys you have on the side, I think it's only right that I get something! Don't you think? And no more fits thrown if you happen to walk in on us again! Because maybe you should learn how to bloody knock. Do I make myself clear?"

And Arthur had every intentions to organize such a thing if the things between him and Merlin got out of hand-as if this whole thing between them hadn't already. But it would have been absolutely lovely to see Merlin's face if he walked into something that was a bit more…intimate, then what he had seen that first time. Perhaps, it could be Arthur doing all of the more active work, then just allowing Clarissa to do what she pleased without really stopping her. Arthur had not ever had a girl in his actual bed before. But he would be far too eager to break that little rule of his if Merlin walked in when Arthur was…otherwise disposed. Perhaps with Lady Clarissa having her skirts shoved around her belly, and Arthur's face in between her thighs as he tongued her down there. Maybe something less intimate and more…he knew Clarissa wanted to lay with him. But would she be willing to allow him to play with her back? Allow him to fuck her from behind instead of from the front. There was less chance of a pregnancy, which was something Arthur was careful to prevent at all costs, by doing it that way. But most girls didn't like it, and some were even willing to consider it the devil's work. As if they weren't honoring their bodies if the man they laid with wasn't going to look them in the face as if they were lovers.

But Arthur thought he could stomach going this far only if Lady Clarissa was turned away from him. It would be easier to imagine the breathy moans being more desperate squeal. Easier to imagine the long hair was shorter and darker if he could close his eyes. Easier to imagine pale unmarked flesh if he didn't have to see large breasts bouncing like ugly flab in front of him….it would probably be easier for him to finally ejaculate inside her if he could focus sorely on hearing when the door opened up. Giving Merlin a full view of what Arthur knew he would never have in all of their lives together….the prince chuckled darkly under his breath. And watched with satisfaction as Merlin took several long steps back trying to get away from him. But Arthur couldn't haven been anymore pleased then he was, seeing that Merlin might actually have a sense of self-awareness. At least Merlin wasn't entirely on the stupid side. Well, he knew that already because of how many tragedies Merlin had avoided. But it was nice for it to be confirmed.

Now, Arthur thought as he eyed the little curl falling into his consort's eye, plastering against his forehead because of all the anxiety induced sweat Merlin was emulating, obviously the boy had no idea of the things Arthur planned to do with him. But clearly Merlin could sense that something was off with Arthur. And Arthur liked that…was able to breath in with a deep inhale, and hold the scent of Merlin's fear as if filled up the hallway. Holding that scent-something that smelt of the untamed smoke that came from a campfire-in his lungs until it burned. And he was forced to let it go with a deeper exhale. It was absolutely delicious, as it scraped against his lungs on the way out, and Arthur had to fight down the insane urge to brush that curl away from Merlin's eye. If only to see how Merlin would react. If he would think it was sweet of Arthur, taking care of his stupid little consort who couldn't even keep his own hair straight. Or if he would try and escape from him…the chase would be fun. And Arthur thought he quite liked the idea of either one…

So, maybe he would really keep him for the next fifty or so years…

"How many-" Merlin's voice cracked in the middle, and the prince watched with an eerie and unimaginable fascination as the consort's Adam apple bounced as he swallowed right before it settled back into place. "…Do I even want to try and ask you how many guys you think I've been dating?" He said in reference to Arthur's earlier 'boy toys' comment. And the prince wanted to scoff at such a ridiculous question, having to fight to pull his eyes away from Merlin's ridiculous looking adam's apple-was it as soft as it looked. Would Merlin try to bite back a moan if Arthur pressed on it. Would he try to do his best to get away…perhaps bite his hand this time, if the prince was dumb enough to get his hand that close to him, leaving Arthur with a mark of his own from the boy-because was that what Merlin was calling his whorish ways? The man supposed it was better for any man to claim they were only casually dating around, trying to see if he would find anyone he liked enough to do a courtship with. That would hold far less stigma than saying 'hey, I'm a whore and I lay down for strange men to touch me just so I can string them along till I know longer have use for them'. "But hey…I can promise that if you do get together with Clarissa, you won't hear a single problem out of me. I'm sure you two will be very happy with each other."

Arthur could see the weariness in Merlin's eyes, the corners wrinkling in a way that betrayed his young age. Was able to see Merlin waiting for his reaction, and the prince dropped his eyes down to Merlin's leg. Where he was scratching the toe of his boot against the ground, looking as if he may just try and dart off like some frightened little bunny. Which left Arthur as the big bad wolf. And as everybody knows…a little bunny could often be considered a wolf's most favorite kind of snack. And Arthur was starving, ravenous almost. And all he could see was the scratches Merlin was probably leaving on the toe of that boot. And before…Arthur probably would have yelled at him. Because it was a waste of Arthur's gold if Merlin was just going to mess up his pretty clothes before they could really utilize them in full. But now, it only left the prince with a fresh smirk creeping across his face. Because the whole action practically screamed insecurity and being nervous…did Arthur make Merlin nervous? He hoped that he did…maybe Merlin would spend as much time as Arthur had been, on thinking about how they had gotten to where they were now. But only after Arthur had Merlin strung up with all his new, pretty, golden chains…

"Great. I'll be sure to get right on that the first chance that I get." Arthur drawled out sarcastically, having absolutely no intention of going after Clarissa now that Merlin was trying to practically shove him to her. He just knew the other boy was mocking him, the way he had said 'sure you'll be very happy together', when Arthur knew for a fact that Clarissa and him would never be happy together. Well more likely…he would never be happy with her. Couldn't Merlin see-Arthur thought as his gaze wondered across Merlin's body just so he could try and see if there were any other indicators that Merlin might be nervous. It pleased him greatly, to think he was affecting his consort in such a way-that he only needed to have Merlin at his side to be happy? There was nobody in the entire world that would fill Arthur with this excited hum of destruction that wrecked through his body. Nobody else in all the world that Arthur wanted to make scream for him, swallowing those noises like a symphony meant only for his own ears. Nobody else in all the world…that made his heart thrum and glow and squeeze all at once. Made his hands go all sweaty as he contemplated all the things he would get to do to Merlin once he got his hands on him. But Arthur could hardly tell Merlin any of this. Lest the boy start getting all of the wrong ideas about all of this. Or make his head swell up with cockiness if he knew Arthur would never be able to find a soul that matched Merlin's-would never be able to replace him with another-if Arthur ever lost him. Through his death or by other means. "But just so we are clear, I do not think I need your permission to go after Clarissa if I choose to try going after her. But it just so happens, I'm not currently in the market for such affairs, unlike some people."

Arthur couldn't resist getting one more childish dig out at Merlin, sneering as he flashed his wedding ring at the boy…god, if only Arthur hadn't polished the ring to get the blood the boy had left behind off it after Arthur had back-handed him across the face. He was sure Merlin would've trembled so sweetly, at the sight of his own blood staining the silvery cold glint of Arthur's ring. But no matter. Arthur was sure he would have the boy trembling underneath his hands, and all but shaking like a leaf as Arthur started clipping his golden cuffs around the boy's limbs. God. Arthur hoped that Merlin got out whatever extreme sexual frustration whores like him had, with the knight Arthur had given him too. Because that would be the last time for the next good while, that the boy would have been trembling because he was being pleasured to his core. He hoped Merlin had enjoyed himself…because it would probably be months before Arthur would dare even consider granting Merlin some kind of toy he could press to his trembling hole. But, then again…that was only if his little consort could prove himself as Arthur's good boy.

"Um…sire. Might I interrupt?" And Arthur's back went stiffed then concrete when he whipped his head around, the horrid and absolutely perfect-perfect to torture, perfect to play to his heart's content with, perfect to make his own-consort in front of him, following his gaze. And Arthur could feel a slow rumble building in the back of his throat…he had to literally stop himself from snarling like some kind of animal towards the knight who had dared interrupt his private time with the boy. The one who had absolutely no idea what he may have just walked into…Arthur's skin felt overheated, just by being in Merlin's presence. But the knight getting between them-as he ignored Merlin completely in favor of the prince-could have made him nearly rabid. Nobody should ever try taking a place between him and Merlin…it made it so much harder for Arthur to grab Merlin along the back of his neck like one would a kitten, and drag him back before he could try to get too far away from him. "I sincerely apologize, sire. But I fear that your father has grown impatient. And he insists that you come along inside. With or without your date."

Arthur could feel the salvia suddenly flooding his mouth for reasons unknown, this new anxiousness filling him after he realized he would-grudgingly-need to allow the other knight to live. He could hardly kill the man for interrupting them, as he was only conveying a message on his father's order. The prince honestly should have suspected this, instead of just allowing himself to get carried away. But Merlin seemed to have that effect on him, making Arthur forget when even the most important of things came up. Why would Arthur want to attend a banquet when-he glanced over the shoulder of the knight to check on his sweet consort-when torturing his consort sounded so much better. When he could have been spending his time finally implementing all of his fantasies to reality…it would have been lovely indeed. If Arthur could've left Merlin strung up in his golden chains to the ceiling while Arthur did the banquet. Arthur talking to his father and also shaking hands with King Bayard, acting as if everything was normal in the world. As if he didn't have his consort thrusted up and waiting for him for to return. Being held there for far too many hours as Arthur sweet talked their guests, with his own blood boiling under his skin because he knew his bratty consort was waiting for him to release him. Because he just knew Merlin was going to be all red faced and angry and the most delicious looking brat on the planet when he screamed at Arthur to get him down.

"There is no reason for my father to worry about Merlin. My consort has arrived, and we will both be in there in the next few moments." Arthur said in a slow murmur, his voice being barely audible over the still air in the room. Keeping his gaze on Merlin's shrinking form, his smirk growing wider when he saw Merlin trying to hide himself behind the knight standing between them. What a naughty little boy, trying to hide from his master's sight. But Arthur could forgive him. His consort had no way of knowing that was unacceptable behavior, but Arthur would teach him. Would teach him there was not one place in the entire world he could go, where Arthur wouldn't be able to find him. Hell. When Arthur forcibly undressed his little consort for the first time, there was no doubt the other boy would probably try and cover his bits. And that was also perfectly fine. Because did Arthur really want to see his bits dangling about in the air? On, yes he did. But only since that would be another way to humiliate Merlin. Humiliation could often be seen as a key factor to changing other's behavior…but soon, Arthur figured. After the two of them had got used to their new roles, Merlin would know better then to try and cover himself. He could hardly spank the boy by holding his hands down every time, so that he wouldn't cover his arse in an attempt to protect himself from the onslaught of sudden blows. And tying down Merlin's hands was definitely going to happen, so Merlin could only squirm around in place on his lap. But Arthur would also like to see Merlin offering his arse up to him one of these days. Would like to see him just bend right over, wrapping his hands around his own ankles so Arthur could spank him as he pleased. Giving the prince breathy 'thank you's' between each and every blow. "…I do thank you could perhaps inform my father that I am now on my way. I only need one more extra minute with my consort. Alone."

The knight bowed his head in agreement to Arthur's order, but Arthur barely acknowledged him. His sole focus on the consort as his eyes once again wondered his form, not sure which part of the boy's body was more fascinating. Could it be the shapely legs, better seen now that he was wearing a outfit that wasn't larger then he was. Could it have been the collarbone, no longer hidden beneath a neckerchief, causing Arthur to want to stick his finger out and trace along one of the bones sticking out. Could it have been the bruise, which was Arthur's own making, giving the consort a reminder of who he belonged too, the sting of it more effective then the consort's own wedding ring. Arthur barely noticed the other knight as he turned around to leave. Or he would've barely noticed the knight, if he hadn't stopped in place and silently stared at Merlin.

Perhaps the knight was staring at the bruises lining along the consort's face, but it mattered not if he was. Because the prince could see Merlin easing back-and was his face as pale as it was now, his eyes little more sunken in then the prince had thought they were, when he thought back to the vibrancy of those eyes the day they met-and there was this light trembling to his hands. Was the consort trembling still because of Arthur…or because of the knight watching him? It displeased Arthur, his smirk dying down into a scowl…he did not like the possibility of somebody else making Merlin tremble like a leaf. That was his job. And Arthur had always taken his jobs very seriously.

"My father, sir Knight, if you don't mind." Arthur said in this sharp tone, causing the knight to jolt back in surprise. But the prince didn't care if he had startled the knight-he was a bloody knight of Camelot! He should not be able to get so startled in the first place! Besides, yes, yes…the prince was fully aware that Merlin had some kind of allure that dragged people's eyes to him all the time. Mostly for being Arthur's consort, but there was something else there that kept eyes on him. Arthur knew…he was the one that was struck under it's spell most of the time. Perhaps Arthur would've thought the boy 'actually' played around with sorcery and cast this compulsive and obsessive need for him…if he didn't already remember his own descent into madness very well. Weren't spells supposed to be instantaneous? Or at least that's what Arthur had always heard. But a slow madness over time-that surely had to be out of range for a magic-users capabilities. But anyway…just because Merlin had this allure, didn't mean other men could stop and stare at him and wish they could have him for themselves. "I'm sure he is waiting impatiently for you to report back to him. So he's not left wondering just why he's holding this banquet alone."

The knight bowed his head once again-only to Arthur while he went back to ignoring Merlin, which pleased the man. He would not have pointless staring on the boy's flesh that was meant only for his own staring-and disappeared back inside of the hall. Arthur watched the door slamming shut with this dull thud right behind him…could it be possible, that Knight Whoever, was one of the men Merlin had slept with behind his back? Arthur's jaw hurt because of how tightly he was clenching it…maybe the knight had been silently trying to do his best to ask Merlin if they could meet up sometime down the line so they could have a redo? Or maybe he was simply remembering what his consort looked like naked? Maybe he was remembering what kind of sounds Merlin made after he had entered him, pressing his cockhead against Merlin and his TREMBLING hole. Maybe he was remembering how the consort had clenched so sweetly around his member, as he wrongfully carved out a space for himself in the boy. A small space meant not for the lesser likes of a lower knight. There was only one meant for sure a space…and Arthur had surely not gone anywhere near that hole. Which meant the blonde had definitely not given anybody…permission…to try filling it up for themselves.

"Um…" Arthur's head snapped to the side so quickly, when he heard a sweet murmur from the other boy, causing the consort to snap his mouth shut, looking anxious. As if there was something on the tip of his tongue that he was dying to ask Arthur, but was holding himself back for some reason. It was his hands that caught Arthur's eye, the slim fingers that clenched and unclenched rapidly, and Arthur trailed his slow eyes back up Merlin's form. The boy surely shouldn't try and stop his talking on Arthur's account, he thought as he finally stopped back on Merlin's collarbones. Unless he was trying to do something stupid, and let Arthur know he was going to be running off with that knight after the festivities. Since the prince now knew of his activities, maybe he thought he had no more reason to hide them. But Arthur would have to deny him, of course. And-his eyes started tracing along the black fabric that clashed nicely against pale skin right beneath the collarbones-perhaps he would dip his finger between all the soft skin and the fabric so he could tug it out some. Only so Arthur could get a peak down Merlin's shirt. See for himself, the soft line of Merlin's belly. See how pink or dusty rose the boy's nipples were for himself, since other men had already seen them when they were hard and pebbled. Had any other man pinched them into hardness? Rolled them around under their tongue until Merlin was meowing? The prince knew not all men liked having their nipples played with. Arthur himself wasn't a particular fan of it. But Merlin struck him like a man who did…perhaps he would keen towards the heavens if his little nipples really were that sensitive? Perhaps he would go to keening loudly if Arthur himself flicked at one during one of their sessions? Catching sight of Merlin's chest would've hardly seemed like a consolation prize, since many others in the kingdom had already seen the full…everything. But he'd be willing to have a simple chest shot before they went into that room, to tide him over until Arthur could strip him down onto nothing… "Is this a date?"

Arthur felt it when his brain froze, gaping at the boy with a sudden wave of…incomprehension. Whatever thoughts he had about convincing Merlin to lift his shirt for him to get a peak, was washed away in an instant. A date…the moron thought something like 'this' might be a date? That was…an absolutely horrid thought. The prince could feel the anxiety induced sweat going down the side of his neck as his brow twitched violently. It was one thing to think of Merlin in all of these compromising positions, it was Arthur disciplining him and training him and all that jazz. But a date…that word had romantic entanglements involve. 'Dates' meant intentions to a future together, had feelings that involved opening up with another person and inviting somebody else to stay with you for the possibility of a proper courtship. A date had all these expectations that Arthur would never be able to apply with…as an itch formed under his skin. A date meant Arthur would want to push things to a far more 'intimate' level then one could get from simply punishing another. A date meant the prince wanted to do 'more.' Like pressing soft kisses against Merlin and his trembling lips. It meant wanting to trail his. tongue all the way down Merlin's chest, tasting the sweat and hearing the whimpers of pleasure above him. It meant wanting to be gentle and take his time as he did something outrageous to him…like taking Merlin's little cock inside his own mouth, to give the boy pleasure when Arthur would get none in return.

Arthur's whole body seemed to twitch at that, and already felt himself gagging. As if he had a cock pushing pass his lips and resting on his tongue until it would hit the back of his throat and trigger his gag reflexes. Absolutely disgusting and it was an absolute mystery how there were people who might actually enjoy such a thing. Enjoy the hefty weight of something on their tongue, the smell of male musk waving it's way into his nose, the taste as what would've inevitably spurted from the end of that cock to fill up Arthur's mouth…a date meant absolutely everything Arthur did not want. The prince could admit to the possibility of fucking Merlin one of these days if he had absolutely no choice…it would've been like he was coerced into doing it for the safety of the entire kingdom and all that. He could even admit to the possibility of giving Merlin pleasure, if only because the prince couldn't dream of allowing somebody to leave his bed with stories of horror about how Arthur was as a lover. But all the extra bits and pieces one might do with a lover, compared to what one may do when simply consummating and making their bond valid in the eyes of the law…that was a step too far for him.

"I know that we have to attend this together, as per orders from your father. And I know it's my duty to be here as your consort. But nobody said anything about a 'date'. This does not sound like a good date at all. And I remember once, not long after I got here, Morgana told me I should make you try and ask me out on a date. Because you're used to having all things just handed to you…" Merlin stuttered out in a ramble as he wrung his hands together in a way Arthur couldn't say he remembered him ever doing before, but the rambles only seemed to make Arthur's horror intensify. Bloody Morgana…she was involved in this? Involved in getting these thoughts in Merlin's head…thoughts the other knight must've brought to the surface after he called Merlin his 'date.' A word Arthur hadn't thought twice about before Merlin started asking him all these questions. He said this happened not long after he arrived…so what else did Morgana have a hand in? He knew it was her who encouraged Merlin to get him his neckerchief as a favor. Perhaps she had been involved with other things Arthur weren't yet aware of? …And what did Mean mean by 'this wasn't a good date at all'. Sure. Arthur's go to move did involve something more simple, like a picnic in the woods or something. But thousands of people would've loved being in attendance at a fancy banquet as Arthur's date. "So if this is a date…I am trying to say, the least you could've done would be mentioning that! I do not appreciate being blindsided by having my first date 'ever' taken from me because you could not have been bothered to ask me properly!"

Arthur felt as if he had just been picked up and dropped off in some kind of alternate universe that resembled his own…but resembled it not at all. He could see the flush rising on the boy's face…a delicious red that indicated his anger and highlighted the bruising on his face. Was Merlin really mad at him because…Arthur didn't bother 'asking him' to come to this party with him?! As if that was something Arthur had to actually do…they were bloody expected to come together here! But Merlin wanted him to ASK him to come? Was this just some kind of ploy from Merlin, a way of making Arthur lower himself down to the level mere peasants were at by being forced to ask-beg-his own idiotic consort to attend a gala with him? Not in this bloody lifetime would Arthur ever-in any circumstance-ASK Merlin to show up where he was supposed to be.

"I am going to say this only one time and one time only. We are not dating. This is not a date. It never will be a date. And it most certainly will not be something I ever 'ask' you to do, because attending these things with me is the only reason I think you are here at all for, is that understood." Arthur said in a demanding and harsh tone, imparting this onto Merlin's psyche, so he would hopefully never have to hear a thing as ridiculous as this was. While also being insanely aware that Merlin had just…confessed?…that he was angry with Arthur for taking his-first date?-from him. Did Merlin not require all the men he spent time with, to at least treat him to a dinner before they got naked? Or did they just jump into the stack of hay together, or wherever Merlin was allowing himself to be defiled at. At least Arthur had always entertained one of the few girls he had been with, before they snuck off. Arthur supposed Merlin just didn't have enough class to expect at least some self-respect. But what did Arthur expect from a whore…clearly something other then just taking his clothes off the first time he met somebody. The bloody man could be a crazed lunatic who would kill Merlin as soon as he was done with him. But the whore lifestyle Merlin lived with was clearly making him less picky about his choices. It was just a good thing Arthur would be putting a stop to all of this, once he took full reins of Merlin. The idiot would have most likely died after walking off with the wrong man, or by catching a disease of some sort otherwise. But just to make sure Merlin got the message loud and clear, the blond had to make sure to reiterate himself. "This banquet is simply you fluffing your role as consort. And requires no extra effort to do anything more on my part."

Arthur watched as Merlin opened his mouth to argue with him again, but seemed to think better of it, and closed his mouth again. Or perhaps he just knew arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere with Arthur. But either way…the whole moment Arthur had been building up was ruined because of Merlin's stupid question. There wasn't any chance in hell for the prince to get his peek under Merlin's shirt. No chance of the consort standing still so Arthur could pry the shirt away from his skin just long enough for a look. He would have to-grudgingly-wait until the banquet was over because he got a chance to do absolutely anything. So, with wearing a look of annoyance because of his ruined plans, Arthur held out a arm for Merlin to take. They could hardly walk into the feast if they both looked like they wanted to kill the other.

"Here, give me your arm this time. And do not think of trying to argue with me again. I didn't just lie and tell my father we were going to be one moment just for us to be out here and throwing more insults at the other." Arthur said snidely, but Merlin at least seemed to agree with him-or realize that they could not delay their presence any longer then they already had. But when Merlin-grudgingly-slid his own arm into the prince's, he held onto the crook of Arthur's arm delicately, in between two little fingers. Which meant he was either trying to touch Arthur the least amount he could get away, which wasn't going to work if they were going to sale this properly for the nobles. Which was crap, because Merlin could touch other men's cocks, but Arthur's arm was too disgusting for him? Or Merlin didn't know how to take somebody by the arm properly…maybe a combination of both? Arthur was not able to imagine there being very many fancy feasts held in the middle of nowhere, where Merlin had grown up. Arthur rolled his eyes and snapped, "Can you at least act as if you are here and ready to enjoy yourself and make proper peace with Mercia. Or are you going to go around with such a sour expression on your face all night long?"

Because Merlin really did have this absolutely sour look on his face, as if the worse thing in the world was attending the party with Arthur. Arthur would even go so far as to call him out for 'pouting'. It would have been almost cute, if it'd been done by literally anybody else on the planet. And Arthur was able to just 'tell' Merlin was about to start up all of his stupid fussing again, because the consort was growing more red in the face. Apparently he didn't like Arthur calling him out for being 'sour'. But before Arthur had to endure anymore of the consort yelling at him, the prince grabbed Merlin by the two fingers holding onto the crook of his elbow. And Merlin was letting out a-Arthur would die before he admitted how much it was adorable-squeak as Arthur jerked him closer. Pulling Merlin's arm all the way through so the crooks of their arms could rest snugly against each other, plastering the boy up against him till Arthur could only feel Merlin's chest against the back of his arm. There, Arthur thought with satisfaction as he let Merlin's hand go so it could fall into place curled all around his bicep, now they could look like a real couple.

Since couples were always hanging off the other, looking for any old excuse to touch each other, from what Arthur could see with other real couples. He had never personally got the reason why, he was a man that usually liked his space. But if they wanted to…then it was probably best for him to try and copy them. If only so no 'real couples' recognized there was something wrong between them.

"Did you really just say you don't like my face." Merlin said slowly, pulling himself back some so that he wasn't forced to use Arthur's body like a clutch. But he didn't jerk his arm away either, so Arthur counted that as a win. Though he was digging his nails into Arthur's bicep, just hard enough to feel the pinpricks of them…and he was of course, wrong. Arthur hadn't said he didn't like Merlin's face. He said he didn't like the sour look on Merlin's face. Which would be a completely different concept altogether. Merlin didn't exactly have what could be described as, the worse face ever. And with Arthur having put his own claim across the boys face via markings to decorate it up…yeah. Still not the 'worse face' he could've ended up being married off too. But before Arthur could get a chance to correct Merlin of his delusions, "But you maybe right about this one. I'm sure the people would enjoy us, if I only smiled more." And Arthur could feel his shoulders going broader, a smirk starting to emerge on his lips. Until… "What do you think? Is it everything you imagined?"

Arthur's eye twitched violently, glaring over at Merlin when he saw the boy's idiotic smile. The kind that was a little too wide to be genuine, showing off every one of his perfectly white teeth, and Arthur cursed inwardly at whatever god out there thought giving Merlin a smart mouth would have ever been a good idea. The smile was absolutely ridiculous…and could have made little kids run away screaming in terror at the scene. Maybe that was an over exaggeration, but…the prince felt like being over dramatic right now, since he knew Merlin was mocking him. But it really was a sight…the vividly red cut across Merlin's lip was tugging-painfully it looked as the edges of it started splitting some. It made Merlin's entire face look slightly off, distorted? In a way. Gruesome. And he might like it, but that didn't mean it wouldn't turn the insides of those in the hall….perhaps being sour wasn't entirely the worse thing he could be. And Arthur could just save each of those twisted little smiles for when they were back inside of Arthur's chambers. And getting started on a few things that were far more…interesting…then these festivities were.

"Oh, how about you just go back to being sour." Arthur said in a dark grumble, his voice rumbling, under his breath and turning away from the boy, disgruntled. He started walking to the doors, tugging Merlin along with him and half waiting for the consort to try jerking away from him again. His little spitfire though, didn't try to escape, obediently following his husband to the grand doors. Arthur stopped whenever they reached them, stopping to give Merlin a stern glare. Merlin had returned to the sour look he had before, and returned a glare in Arthur's direction. Arthur sneered, "You know, there is one favor that you can do for the both of us. You can stop acting as if you don't want to be seen hanging off the arm of the prince. I admit, I'm not too familiar with whores. But that is something they actually like to do, right? Cling onto a rich man the first chance they get? If you're going to spread out your legs for the first man to come your way, the least I think you can do, is allow me to take over once we get inside. Not a word out of you once we get in, yes?"

Arthur's delivery had been absolutely crude and nasty and not the kind of thing you would say in proper company. Or the sort of thing any fine young man of his worth should be saying at all. But Merlin was not proper company. And the prince was ready for when Merlin tried to jerk his arm out of the prince's grip, offended by Arthur calling him out. Within seconds of feeling Merlin's hand starting to slide, the prince was grabbing onto it with his other hand. His fingers-much larger and stronger then Merlin's own-slid directly between the consort's. Interlocking their fingers, and Arthur made his grip tight. Tight enough to bruise? Tight enough to make the consort-as his arm seized up completely within the grasp of the prince-feel the ache of it whenever Arthur finally let him go. But Arthur didn't want to let the hand go, pressing it into his bicep to keep their arms interlocked. He could've almost felt Merlin's pulse-was it supposed to be beating as rapidly as it was now? That didn't seem normal-reverberated right through his wrist and into Arthur's arm. It gave a whole new meaning to the word 'intimate.' And Arthur watched with a mild fascination as Merlin took a few quick breaths…he was doing that stupid thing he did with his fingers. Bouncing the fingers across his thigh-was Merlin really so energy bound that he could not keep still for more then a second-and the prince had to resist reaching out to grab those fingers too.

Just to compare and contrast…see if this was only Arthur's imagination. Or if the hand he was holding really did fit in all the empty spaces of Arthur's own. Like a puzzle piece that needed to slide home.

"I don't think I understand what you are saying." Merlin said after a long moment…the consort had needed to catch a bit of his breath back. He couldn't afford to have a panic attack right now. Could not afford to be seen like that by Arthur…he was feeling trapped. Unable to get his hand from Arthur…he just needed to focus. And to concentrate…his fingers could only do so much to keep him grounded in reality. Talking…it had to help him, right? Keep him focus. Even if talking to the prince was the exact thing causing it. But he needed to do…to do something. Anything. Quickly. Breathe…breathing was definitely good. Air, yes. Fresh…crisp…air…spreading out his legs…Arthur was talking about his apparent dates…that was something he could focus on. Something that seemed to be confusing enough to hold his attention. What did spreading his legs open have anything to do with going out? Unless he was sitting somewhere, and he had his date laying down in between his legs so that Merlin could feed him fresh fruit, or something as horribly romantic as that. But that also didn't track with the rest of what Arthur had said…trying to do his best and be all romantic with his apparent 'date' meant that Arthur expected him not to talk? So maybe he was wrong…or maybe that was just how fancy nobles talked when they thought their 'significant other' was stepping out on them? "…What does spreading my legs have to do with anything. I don't even know why I would do a thing like that. Let alone why it means I need to do what you say."

Though really, Merlin thought as he tried to regulate how he was breathing. One breath, two breaths, three breaths…just like the fingers. All he needed to do was keep counting out his breaths…four breaths. Five breaths. Six breaths. Merlin did try to wiggle his fingers, trying to see how much room he had. And if he could use that space to free himself. But he didn't know what he would do after…he just knew taking a step back so his head wouldn't feel like it was spinning in circles, would do wonders right now. But Arthur's grip went even tighter, almost suctioning against his hand. And Arthur had a rough hand, Merlin could feel the callouses scraping between his fingers, and…sevenbreaths. Eightbreaths. Nine breaths. Tenbreathselevenbreathstwelvebreaths…

"You will do as I said because I am your husband and prince and have ordered you to do it." Arthur said darkly, agitated by Merlin playing dumb with him. Did he think pretending he didn't know what Arthur meant by 'spreading his legs' would get him anywhere with Arthur? Perhaps Merlin thought if he started denying it now, Arthur would actually believe him or his little 'I'm a precious bloody virgin so please spare me so I don't have to be speared on your cock on the night of our wedding' lie. Bloody fool Merlin was…did he really think that Arthur was dumb enough to fall for such lies a second time? "And just for the record, you might have Morgana fooled by your little innocent act. But you can damn well bet that it's not going to work on me anymore. So you can just go ahead and stop all that."

Merlin held his breath for the longest time, his lungs nearly screaming at him for not allowing the breaths he had been so desperately counting minutes before, to enter him. Why…Merlin was so bloody tired of being confused. What did the prince mean by 'innocent act' and why did he think he was lying about it? Merlin wasn't trying to put on an act. He was gingerly confused. He had no idea what was going on and he had no idea how to fix it. Was this really all because the prince thought Merlin had gone on a couple of measly little dates? Maybe if they were actually married, Merlin would've understood his anger a bit better. But they weren't, and the prince still thought him a whore who dated a lot. And Merlin was tired, his bones aching…the consort exhaled. His lungs practically screamed in relief this time, as the consort jerked his head once to nod. He could feel himself growing slack in the prince's hold, the fistful of Arthur's shirt Merlin had not realized he was holding loosening until it fell free of his slim fingers. He didn't want to argue anymore. And there was no point with Arthur. Fighting to have Arthur kill him suddenly seemed like far more energy then Merlin had to spare. And he had a feeling he would need every bit he had for the next few hours.

"Perfect. I'm glad that we are finally starting to understand each other for a minute here." Arthur said, in this ridiculous soothing voice. It sent a slither of unpleasantness through Merlin's body, chilling him to the core. And Arthur even went the added mile by loosing his grip on Merlin's hand, just so he could slide a thumb across the back of his hand. As if he was trying to soothe the skittish Merlin. Or was mocking him for being in the position he was in now. It only made Merlin want to wretch, but he didn't think he had the energy to do even that. "But I do find myself wanting to remind you…I do not want you to embarrass me when we go in there, Merlin Pendragon."

There was a lingering threat lacing the prince's words, and the consort could feel himself starting to sink. Like he had the last time he had zoned out. His body was still standing in place, but the light of his eyes were dimming and he was staring ahead but seeing nothing. His mind sinking further and further away, trying to find someplace warm, free from the abyss of darkness surrounding him. It was thick and was hard to swim though, but it had to be safer then the banquet was going to do. It had to be…the consort thought…trying to find his safe space. But 'Merlin Pendragon' he kept hearing in the back of his ears like some kind of echoing drumbeat trying to remind him that he was caged. Sinking into himself wouldn't stop the reality that was happening around him.

Nothing would.

"You don't need to worry about a thing, Arthur Pendragon." The consort said, in that slow and almost robotic way he'd started speaking with at some point. His earlier anger and reckless behavior was smothered beneath the layers of self doubt and anxiousness, knowing he was going to be being paraded in front of the people who openly scorned him and hated him. But as Arthur had said…he was Merlin's husband and prince and so he must listen to him. And Arthur seemed to think nothing of the way Merlin sounded like he was dead in the ground somewhere. Leaving only his ghost behind to fulfill his role as consort. Because the prince nodded, like he was satisfied for the first time in his life. "…I wouldn't dare to dream about embarrassing you in front of all your people."

But Merlin would, the consort thought as he fought with all the self loathing returning. He wanted to be reckless again, allow the fire he had been feeling earlier return and flood his body with endorphins. Make him feel 'something' again. But he'd already gone that route. And look where he ended up…as the marionette doll he was trying to avoid becoming. The prince tugging on his strings until Merlin was poised…oh no, wait…Arthur actually was pulling on his strings. Or if he was more specific…Arthur was tugging on his arm. Pulling Merlin along as he reached out for the door handle. Merlin watched as Arthur's fingers grasped onto the handle, his breath was held in anticipation and fear and not knowing what to expect or how he was going to get through this and…

Arthur tugged the door open.

The light that streamed from inside the hall nearly blinded the consort, firelight seemed to be coming from each and every direction from the millions of lanterns hanging artfully from the ceiling. Merlin had to squint through it, being more accustomed to the dimmer light of the hall. But the light was giving Merlin a raging headache building somewhere in the middle of his temples. Merlin's legs felt like lead and he was sure his knees were shaking, and Merlin needed to allow the prince to tug him inside. He hated having to rely on the man to get him inside, not sure he would've been able to see just where he was going. And he could only hope Arthur was not going to be petty and try running him into something for the sheer purpose of messing with him….Merlin was pretty sure the only reason he wasn't flat on his face, as the grand door fell closed behind them, trapping them inside the room, was because of the grip he had on Arthur's arm. The prince was far sturdier then he was…or perhaps better at hiding it then Merlin was.

"NOW WELCOMING PRINCE ARTHUR PENDRAGON AND HIS HUSBAND, HIS ROYAL CONSORT SIR MERLIN OF THE PENDRAGON FAMILY!"

XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX

The announcer had yelled directly in Merlin's ear, making it ring unsettling, and Merlin winced harshly. He wished that the announcer hadn't done that though, because it was like his eyes had adjusted to the lights in the room. Everything was a little 'too' bright for comfort, but Merlin wished he'd been able to stay unable to see anything. Because he could see eyes…everywhere he looked and no matter where it was he turned…all Merlin could see was different sets of eyes as they tried drilling into his vulnerable skin.

Blue eyes.

Grey eyes.

Green eyes.

Brown eyes.

Even one set that looked like a birth defect gone wrong and held two different colored eyes…

And they were all insanely focused on Merlin and his prince.

Merlin wanted to deny he did it, but he could feel himself as he shrunk further into Arthur's side. Bending his knees just a little so that he could press the side of his face against the prince's shoulder. How did the saying go…it was better to be with the devil you know, then the one you don't? Because he definitely felt the truth in those words. It was better to stick with Arthur because he at least knew what to expect out of the prince. What he didn't know was how these people were going to react to Merlin encroaching on their fancy feast as an honored guest. And Merlin couldn't help but wonder if all of them knew he was an imposter, as the prince led him into the room, the crowd parting for them.

This…Merlin thought helplessly as he darted his eyes every direction he could to try and find a familiar face…was going to be Merlin's greatest performance to date. He could play the consort. He could not play the consort if he decided to try poking the bear that was Arthur again. He could be like the warriors he was thinking of earlier…the ones with all the face paint who scared their enemies into submission as they all fought for their lives and for their freedom. He could do it all….or fuck, he could do nothing at all. But Merlin could say with confidence, that he was surprised Arthur hadn't tried shoving him off yet. He was absolutely positive he had to be cutting off the circulation in his arm because of how tightly he was holding onto it.

But Arthur seemed to be in a world all his own, blending into his princely persona perfectly and without hesitation. Giving out smiles and polite nods to the people who stepped out of their way, forming a pathway all the way to the main table in the center of the room. But nobody seemed to be doing the same back. They couldn't…not with their attention focused surely on Merlin, or more like the state of Merlin's face. Not many people were saying much, the hall far quieter then it'd ever been in its existence. A pin could have been heard like an echo across the room. And Merlin still couldn't see a soul he actually recognized…most of the women he saw seemed to do nothing to hide their scandalized expressions. And the men were no different, though many looked more disgusted …it was as if Merlin's mere presence had completely ended the happy mood of the party. All of the excitement had been sucked out as if it had never been there in the first place…it left a gloomy atmosphere that stuck to Merlin's skin like day old sweat.

Mercia and Camelot had seemed to be doing an excellent job of mingling together, putting down old issues so they could celebrate the new peace. Men wearing blue capes were standing next to men in red. Servant girls who wore blue garments were being helped and shown around by the ones in different shades of red. But now that the pathway was formed, it's like everybody subconsciously walked to their own section. The people on Merlin's right seemed to be wearing at least something that was red (a belt, or their dress, or buckle) to indicate they were Camelot. And then there was the ones on the left, mostly soldiers though the consort did see a few servants standing out on the sidelines who wore pretty similar things. Only in shades of blue just to show off their Mercia pride. Nobody would've had to ask the other which land they hailed from. People seemed as if they were pretty content letting their clothing do the talking.

There seemed to be three long tables-long enough to sit at least fifty people or more-spread throughout the room. The one on the left had a Mercia table cloth spread out along its surface. With mountains and mountains of food that made it feel as if Merlin's stomach was churning all over again. Well, it looked as if Merlin was once again going to be pretending his dinner didn't exist. Many people had already started the sampling of the food, as this was the…Before Dinner First of the Seven Courses section of the meal. The exact same look alike table seemed to be mirrored on the other side, with at least ten feet of space between the two. The only difference was this table had a Camelot tablecloth spread out over the top of it.

The Mercia Table seemed to hold only strangers among the group, so Merlin paid them no attention. Each and everyone of his steps feeling as if he had a slab of concrete tied onto his ankle as his eyes wondered over the Camelot side. He'd been able to note somewhat familiar faces, people he might have passed in the halls or might have spit at his feet when he passed them by. But there was nobody Merlin could see that he had an actual connection with. Granted, that would only be about three people in the entire city. But it would've been a relief if he could see one of those three people…just so he wouldn't feel as if he was this stranger just wondering his way through a strange land that had never been meant to house the likes of someone like him….

Gaius.

Merlin could feel something loosening in his chest when he saw Gaius standing at the end of the long table, the closest spot he was able to get to the main table. Where he could at least keep a closer eye on Merlin and what was going on. He would be more then ready to swoop in and make some kind of excuse to get Merlin out of the room if he saw something that he didn't like. And Merlin's tense shoulders loosened a fraction, as did his grip on Arthur's arm. Gaius was here…he was going to be okay…of course Gaius hadn't left him to go dealing with all of this on his own. He should probably have more faith in his uncle if he thought for one second, that the other man wasn't going to show up for him. And maybe he'd only shown up because he was a member of the court and it was 'expected' of him, like it was 'expected' of Merlin. But it was probably more for Merlin's sake…right? With how much anger Merlin had seen in his uncle after the elderly man had found him stricken in his own bed.

Gaius gave him an encouraging look, as if he did not notice the way people were starting to clump together and whisper hurriedly to their friends. No doubt asking if anybody in the room knew what happened to Merlin's face…nobody seeing a girl in orange on the Camelot side, ducking down behind a purple clad girl calmly sticking a grape into her mouth, as if trying to hide from the royal couple. Merlin 'did notice' when the quiet atmosphere seemed to give way for questions and confusion and stares and 'what in the world happened with the consort this time?' And it would have made Merlin want to bury his face against Arthur's shoulder-as disgusting as it was-to hide his mark of shame from the world. But with the glowing encouragement of his uncle nodding at him, Merlin did find it a bit easier to walk on his own, as he turned and faced the main table.

If only he looked a second longer.

He would have seen the furious glare Gaius had turned onto the husband at his side.

X

There was a podium, Merlin noted, sitting in the center of the room directly in front of the main table. The black slabs of marble the podium was made out of, seemed to brighten and glitter underneath the firelight. Made for the purpose of bringing eyes to look at it. And while Merlin was too far away to be able to read it properly, he could see a single piece of parchment being held on top of it by these decorative-also made out of black marble, and distinctively dragon shaped-paper weights, he knew exactly what it was. The thin letters spanning thousands and thousands of words, detailing out their plans going forward, so small one would need to have an actual magnifying glass out to read it all…was the treaty everybody was throwing themselves around for.

Or in other words…

A contract.

Waiting for the signatures of King Bayard and King Uther to commemorate it.

Merlin couldn't stop the image from forming in his mind if he had tried…was this what it had looked like when the contract between his family and Arthur's was signed, when they had promised their future children to a life of hell together. Did it also stand on top of a black podium, with all the members of King Uther's court standing around them to mark the event in celebration. Had King Uther and his blond haired Queen Ygraine, stood on one side of the podium with pleased little smiles on their faces. Too young and too naive to think there was anything wrong with deciding the future of those who'd live in the next generation. Had Merlin's own parents taken a place on the other side of the podium. His mother who had always carried herself with a gentle demeanor, even when it was becoming too much. Had his father-just a mystery man forever casted in shadows, indicating how much of a blank spot Merlin had on what he actually knew about his father-also stood by her side. Sliding his quill across the piece of parchment in a flourish, signing away his rights towards the child he would one day bore but never meet.

Or had it been more of a private affair. Just the parents and a few close knit advisors. Merlin doubted, with how secret it was being kept, that many people would've known about the contract. Not even back then.

Merlin tore his eyes away from the podium, deciding that he didn't want to think about the event that had started all this chaos. Didn't want to think about what might've happened if his mother had decided to rip the contract in two, instead of going through with it. He would probably still be back home …but Merlin didn't want to be stuck in the endless loop that was his homesickness again. So he looked towards the final table…it was standing between the other two tables. Facing sideways instead of longways, which created this 'U' shape out of the three tables. This table didn't 'look' as elaborate as the other two, but that was because it didn't need any of the extras to make it more lavish than any other.

For one thing, it didn't have a colored tablecloth to show off which kingdom they stood with. It was bare, decorated only with beautiful plates piled high with food. This was a way of indicating that both of the kingdoms were of equal worth, so neither King Bayard nor King Uther was more important then the other one. There could be no treaty, if one stood to gain more then the other. There could be no treaty if one of them acted like they were better then the other. And there would be no treaty, if they could not stand tougher in front of both of their citizens and at least pretend as if they were friends.

Therefore…no tablecloth.

And Merlin raised his eyes to the people standing behind the table, getting out of their chairs to welcome the last two members of their party. Standing in the middle of the table, were two large throne like chairs, big enough to sit at least two or three people comfortably. Standing in front of one of these chairs, was King Bayard. Merlin could see how wide his eyes were, opening and closing his mouth as if he wasn't quite sure he was seeing Merlin's face as it was. And Merlin felt the returning burn of humiliation racing through him…he ducked his head to try letting some of his hair to fall into his face to try and hide it. But the gel Gwen had used was much too good, and his hair was too short anyway, so it didn't do anything to help him out.

Bayard had been so kind to him, Merlin thought as he tried to swallow down the shame clogging up his throat. He had been expecting somebody crude, when he was told he was going to meet the new King. Somebody like Uther, who was pompous and couldn't be told he was wrong and would try and destroy everything he wanted if he didn't agree with it. But Bayard hadn't been like that at all…he'd been nice. And he was actually talking 'to' Merlin, instead of just 'at' him or expecting him to get things right on the first try. He'd even known this was Merlin's first royal meeting, and seemed to be proud to lead Merlin through it. Albeit, Merlin hadn't said much in that conversation. But what he'd heard from Bayard had been enough for Merlin to admire him. The King felt like somebody Merlin could look up too. Somebody he was able to see himself in…a gay ruler who wouldn't allow the rules or customs of the past shame him from being who he was. The man who ruled a kingdom that-while shunned magic users-didn't outright kill them for merely suspecting they might be one. And now Bayard was in front of him again, and the king was seeing the miserable state Merlin was in, and…he could do nothing to impress Bayard with this mark on his face.

Impress Bayard because he liked being 'seen' by the older man, and wanted to do something actually noteworthy.

And not impress him because he expected to gain anything, like this treaty, from it.

Merlin dragged his eyes away from the other man, before he had a chance to see the disappointment shining in the other king's eyes…and knowing he didn't want to be seen as just a disappointment, even to a man he'd just met. But looking his way further down the table, did very little to encourage him to keep walking. There were three different knights standing beside the king, each one wearing the full knightly garb that Mercia required. Long blue capes streaming down to stop at their ankles, and their shining blades put away inside of the scabbards strapped to their sides. They were probably most likely, the same group of knights that'd been standing guard over Bayard during their first meeting. But each one of them now wore a look of upmost horror, not even trying to behave as if this was normal…doing nothing to hide their shock with Merlin's face.

Merlin felt his stomach churn…

Just keep walking…

Just keep walking…

Just keep walking…

Was this really how things were going to be, Merlin thought as he and Arthur were nearing the table. Just how much had Merlin messed up in a past life, that the gods were trying to punish him so harshly in this one. How was it even possible for one boy, a former peasant at that, to become not only a pariah of one kingdom. But the pariah of 'two' kingdoms…it certainly felt as if this was something that could've seriously only happen to Merlin Fucking Pendragon. Hated by millions of people, ninety percent of them he didn't know and yet he had somehow offended. But at least Camelot had given him a few weeks before the hate had really started. Mercia had only known him in person for a day at best, and the only real contact he'd had with them had been his one meeting with the king. Which probably wasn't his best impression either, now that he was thinking back on it…

Though Merlin did wish he had continued staring at Mercia…maybe even pretended he was going to go back to their city after all of this was over…pretended he was one of them so he could get a fresh start somewhere else entirely. Where it might be possible to turn people's opinion on him around if they weren't set in stone like Camelot. Because when Merlin turned his gaze onto the Camelot side of the table…the boy had no hope of avoiding the eye's of King Uther, situated at the side of the Mercia King. And Uther looked…pissed was almost too short of a word. It didn't justify the kind of anger he could see brewing in Uther's eyes.

The King's nostrils were flaring for good sake!

Looking as if he wanted to strangle Merlin for causing such a spectacle in front of not only their kingdom, but in front of their royal guests as well. Merlin could feel the color-or what little he still had-draining out of his face. Arthur was always going to be far scarier to Merlin then the king was…that was just a fact of life. Arthur had been the one that scorned him publicly. The one that hurt him. The one that slapped him in the face. The one that ruined him. Broke him. Tore him into pieces and ripped him a new one. But Merlin also knew the king was the one controlling things in the background. And Arthur would jump through hoops to get rid of Merlin if the king gave up this whole charade and demanded it of him.

But Uther's instance of following the contact through was probably the only reason Merlin was still alive.

But Merlin wanted to die…

Would Uther allow him to?

Merlin could feel his heart thudding away inside his chest as it skipped far too many beats, and Arthur was still holding a hand over his own to keep it in place. And…and…it was most likely the only thing in the world that was preventing Merlin from turning tale and running. Just like the girl in this story his mother had told him once as a child…of a girl who had to flea a ball to prevent the noble guests from finding out she's as peasant as they came. Leaving behind her shoe by mere accident, where it would be found by the one she'd danced the entire night away with. Who would use it to find her, and make her his Queen…

Only Merlin wouldn't be losing his boot.

And Arthur wasn't any kind of prince that would follow him to make sure he was okay…

He wasn't okay…

But Gaius' eyes drilling into him from his seat felt as if they were screaming 'you can do this'. And Merlin found Morgana standing further down the table-two empty seats situated in between her and the king, where he and Arthur were meant to be sitting-right where she said she would be. And Merlin felt his chest loosening up even more…his breathing coming out just a little bit easier. But her eyes were also trying to do their best to encourage him…silently screaming at him…'you can do this'. And Merlin could see Gwen standing behind the lady, a pitcher of wine situated in her hands. And she looked as if she was also trying to say 'you can do this', though her dark hands were trembling around the pitcher as if she was about to drop it if Merlin gave her a reason too.

The vote of confidence was actually nice for once. This was something Merlin wished he could have just wash over him for everyday of his life. Something that would comfort him in the dead of night, when the shadows of his room started to feel a little too dark for comfort. Something that would keep him warm when the sun itself failed to do its job. Something he could hold onto tightly, when he was brushing aside dirt some idiot knight had kicked in his face after knocking him to the ground. Something that…he wished would transcend with him into the afterlife.

But it wouldn't…

Because Merlin knew something they clearly did not…

He knew…

He couldn't do this.