Okay, full stop. So, a reviewer of mine earlier on asked me if I was still going to include the whole-she's pretty for being a princess, yet along a handmaiden'-scene Merlin has as he's standing with Gwen. Talking about Nimueh disguised as that serving girl. But they gave me an alternative scene following the same idea. So that's their contribution to helping me on this chapter. Only problem is…I usually write down people's usernames so I can remember to thank them for giving me an idea. But for some reason, I must've forgotten to do it for this idea. But hey. If you're still reading, you know who you are and this chapter goes out to you ;p
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Merlin Pendragon could have said a lot of thing by the time Arthur pulled them to a stop in front of the royal table. And none of them would have been something Arthur wanted to hear in that moment. Like explaining how his head felt as if it was stuck in this eternal swirl, everything spinning around in mismatched patterns everywhere he looked. Blinking rapidly to try and correct this only seemed to make everything way worse then it already was. Trying to avoid looking at the two Kings sitting at the head table had Merlin looking toward the other guests in the grand chambers, but there must've been something seriously wrong with his eyes. Because the noble guests looked as if their heads had grown two sizes to large for their bodies. Their eyes literally the size of dinner plates as their gazes wondered from him and back towards others to gossip more about him. Their voices coming from around him in every direction. Soft and sturdy, barely opening their mouths as they gossiped, but to Merlin, it sounded like nails scraping down the length of a chalkboard.
Loud. And unnecessary. And painful to his ringing eardrums.
The people themselves were not the only thing Merlin found he was having issues with. This was just the most apparent to the sheer volume only he seemed bothered by. Sensitive and being overstimulated from too much going around him too fast. But the walls…the walls made the dizziness inside his head more painful, leaving Merlin concerned over rather or not he would actually sit on the floor and try to hug it…he could trust that the floors were going to be still enough for Merlin to feel grounded. Unlike the walls…Merlin wasn't sure if they were bouncing out of place. Or if they were trying to close in on him. He just knew that walls should definitely not be moving…but that didn't stop his eyes from seeing what it was they wanted to see.
And don't even get Merlin started on the firelight…it was far too bright to be normal. Like white hot, and burning Merlin's retina's when he tried looking at it. Making a harsh pounding in his temples go off…he wanted to press his hands against his ears to try and block it all out. Sort of how he had done when Clarissa's orange clad friend had declared him to be a whore and he had almost spiraled out of control. But there was too many people…too many eyes…everybody watching him…they would all know…all see what a freak he was…see the neurotic mess Arthur had turned him into.
Even his arm wrapped around Arthur's made him feel as if he was closed in and cluttered.
…Gaius…
…Morgana…
…Gwen…
…Gaius…
…Morgana…
…Gwen…
Merlin just had to keep breathing. He had to concentrate on things that were important to him. If he focused, if he forced the air down into his lungs and just…breathed. He was going to be okay. Rather he couldn't do this or not was completely irrelevant, because the banquet had to end at some point. It would…and then Merlin could return to his bed and pretend the last twenty four hours hadn't happened. It sounded way easier said then done. Especially since the evening could be spanning for hours and hours…far more hours then he could stay up in the state he was in. And he was going to start his spiraling again. Only somebody would see. And Merlin was going to be a freak. And it wasn't even going to be because of his magic. But he was going to ruin everything, and all the children really would starve and it really would be all Merlin's fault and he was never going to live this down and it was too much and…
He was already starting to spiral…
…Gaius…
…Morgana…
…Gwen…
…Gaius…
…Morgana…
…Gwen…
Merlin's head pounded harsher then before, but he tried to hold onto this ache with a vice like grip. This situation was far too much for the little finger trick Merlin had learned of and been keeping up with whenever things did start feeling as if they were about to get out of hand. But he needed to focus on something that was even stronger then the finger trick, if he expected to get through tonight. He needed his friends more then he ever thought possible. As an anchor of sorts to keep his grounded. Because it felt as if Merlin could literally start floating away. And while floating away might've sounded like a grand idea, as it could get Merlin away from all of his problems. The actual idea of it only seemed to get him sick.
…Gaius…His uncle who claimed Merlin was stronger then any other he'd ever met.
…Morgana…who'd disappeared from his chambers simple to get back at Arthur for him.
…Gwen…who made sure when he faced his husband again, he was going to be ready.
They were all he needed. They were all Merlin wanted. And it was with a desperate need tugging harshly at his heart, he wished it was them standing on either side of him to face up against the king's wrath with him. Selfish, it was. For Merlin to want his three friends to be put into the line of fire just so he wouldn't be alone. But he also knew they would've been a far better defensive team then Arthur Pendragon would've ever been. His own little pseudo council members, as Merlin had once called them…
"Father," Arthur's smooth voice cut in through all the noises bouncing off the walls of Merlin's head. But it still sounded disconnected due to the whirlwind that was Merlin's state at the moment. He knew it was coming from Arthur, but it also didn't sound as if it was actually coming from Arthur. "I shall hope that you can forgive my consort and I for arriving to all the festivities far later then we planned. I wanted to be here far sooner, but you do know how girls can take forever when they get dressed. It seems as if my consort has decided to take up the habit. But I do hope we haven't missed anything of importance."
Merlin didn't bother trying to correct Arthur on this…wasn't even surprised by Arthur's joking tone as he easily spun this lateness onto Merlin. It wasn't worth the hassle or any of the drama that would follow. He'd pretty much used every bit of energy he had to throw the best he could at the prince when they were outside. But now he was drained, and he needed his anchors, and breathing seemed more work then it would actually be worth. Trying to add another pointless fight onto the top of all that…Merlin felt exhausted just thinking about it all. And exhaustion would probably be the one thing that would make his knees give out…breathe Merlin…just breathe for now…
"No. You haven't missed one thing. We couldn't have moved forward without Camelot's prince present. We are all looking forward to your speech, and how grateful you are for Bayard to be here with us now." Uther said in this slow and rumbling sort of tone, never taking his eyes off Merlin. It looked like it was the king's turn to focus on his breathing, trying to avoid letting his anger get the best of him in front of all the guests that had joined them this evening. But Uther's tone had this subtle threat lacing through it, but Merlin's senses were too full and almost overlooked it completely. Almost overlooked how his father-in-law was basically telling Arthur to grow up and start 'acting' as if he was grateful for the other king and his presence in their kingdom. But Merlin could feel the way Arthur grimaced with the reminder of his speech…and now Merlin knew he wasn't the only one dreading tonight, even if it was for two entirely different reasons. "But perhaps, there is still time for you to correct your consort's behavior. Long before this whole 'making people wait' becomes a habit. At least we know he knows how to dress now."
Arthur's arm bunched under Merlin's hand, before it relaxed and Merlin knew why…Merlin did have a habit of making the prince wait for him. But if Arthur wasn't so despicable, then perhaps Merlin would actually make run faster to get where he needed to be.
But Merlin's eyes fell to stare at one of the many dishes of food in front of him on the table…carrying the large chicken he had told Mary he wanted for tonight's dinner. He knew he sure didn't feel like eating chicken tonight, but then again…it didn't matter what the main meal was. He still wouldn't have been eating it to begin with. And Merlin had to wonder why Uther wasn't just spitting out the obvious questions as they were plastered all across his face. Why he was making small talk with Arthur instead of demanding to know what Merlin'd been doing to his face. Considering how uptight King Uther had been about his appearance when Merlin had thought to attend Arthur's celebration party after he'd won the tourney against Valiant. But perhaps this was another noble thing he would never get…perhaps they didn't ask questions or were content to look the other way as long as it wasn't happening to them. Or perhaps Uther didn't care if his son had caused these marks and therefore 'ruined' whatever 'they've found true love together' bullshit he'd been peddling them. Maybe Uther was even pleased with his son's behavior…and Merlin tried sinking into his safe space. Maybe if he could get away from here mentally, dull his senses…he could survive.
Or maybe everything was tuned up to a fifteen on the scale, and he was stuck enduring this shitshow.
"Ah, King Bayard. I would like to extend my most humblest of apologies to you as well. I know you are a busy man and did not come all this way just for my consort to keep you all waiting far longer then you should." Arthur said, voice being considerably tight, showing just how much of a kiss-ass he could be when somebody else held all the power. It was the Blue King after all, that could decide Merlin's tardiness only meant he wasn't as dedicated to this treaty as he should be and it was a sign that they should withdraw their agreement before it became immortalized with parchment and ink. "I do hope you will not come to see us unfavorably. But as you've mentioned earlier when you first arrived, my consort is quite new to all of this and doesn't understand the importance of all of this. So I hope you will take that into consideration and not think of Camelot in a bad light-"
Merlin zoned out as Arthur started rambling, which included pretty much rewording himself about half a dozen times, but it all meant the same. He was sorry. It was apologetic. And it wasn't Camelot's fault that Merlin lacked the social graces a small noble child would have known…yada, yada, yada. Now, no matter which way Arthur twisted it, it all came out exactly the same…it was all Merlin's fault. As if Arthur hadn't wasted a bit of time on his own, trying to behave like he was Prince Charming while he asserted his control over the teenage girl that had called Merlin a whore. And he was sure that Bayard was eating all of this up, nodding his head along to what the prince was saying…because nobles would always stick with other nobles and all that. Even if said noble spent his nights chopping up peasant girls into little pieces after tormenting them…because hey. At least they weren't noble girls…
But just for the record, Merlin did know how important this treaty was.
He just didn't know how his presence was supposed to have made anything better. When Arthur was already apologizing on Merlin's behalf within the first five minute of then being in here.
"What happened to your face, Consort Merlin." King Bayard suddenly interrupted Prince Arthur mid-word, causing the rest of the prince's apology to die in his throat. And Merlin flinched in a violent manner, his eyes snapping back up to look at the Blue King startled. The last thing Merlin'd been expecting, was for Bayard to actually acknowledge him for himself. Merlin was nothing more then a figurehead. Only a prop meant to fill up a space, but not meant to be engaged with. But King Bayard had obviously noted Merlin's extreme reaction, and Merlin could see the Blue King's eyes narrow sharply in a calculating manner. "I know that I have got old, but my eyes have not gone bad. You did not have that mark on your face the last time we spoke. So what's happened to you since then?"
The calculating way Bayard was looking at him left him with an unsettled feeling. As if Bayard was searching through his soul and trying to find his own answers…Merlin tried to think hard on remembering what his bruise looked like when he'd seen it in the mirror he had crushed up. But the image would not come to mind no matter how hard Merlin tried shaking it out of his head. Merlin opened his mouth to answer the Blue King, just like how he had practiced with Lady Clarissa. The only thing Merlin needed to do was stick to the lie he'd been told…but Merlin couldn't even remember what his own mark had looked like. Lady Clarissa might've been dumb enough to believe the first thing Merlin had said, but it didn't mean Bayard would believe it as well. And what if his mark had the distinct shape of a hand…? Surely Merlin would be caught in his lie if his bruise looked like a handprint. It wasn't exactly a mark one could get from falling down the stairs. And weren't kings meant to be good at detecting lies and knowing when they were having Bullshit being spewed at them? Sure, King Uther wasn't exactly good at detecting lies: Merlin had lied to him about being a sorcerer when he'd first arrived. Valiant had lied to him about using magic. Arthur had bloody lied to him to get Merlin out of being executed in Gwen's place.
But what if Bayard was more clever then the Red King? The Consort would lie, and with the truth already being 'literally' written across his face, he would be caught. Bayard was so nice to him, and the first thing Merlin would do…was be this known liar. But Arthur had commanded this from him, Merlin could feel the two halves inside of him battling. The half that said he should submit and do whatever it took to get out of here with minimal drama. VS the half of him that said it just might be fun to stir the pot a little. And see how red Arthur's head could get if Merlin decided to stick to his 'make Arthur rue the day he'd been born' half-baked plan. And the words were brimming on the edge of his tongue, trying to emerge but Merlin had no idea if it would've been the lie or the truth coming out. He was almost too scared to know which half of his heart would be chosen…
"Oh, please. Allow me to explain King Bayard. I believe that it might be too embarrassing for my consort to explain since it's happened so recently. Just earlier this afternoon in fact." Arthur cut in smoothly, causing King Bayard's eyes to return to the prince. Merlin nearly sagged in relief, for once feeling grateful for Arthur's interference. It meant that Merlin didn't have to decide on what was more important…getting out of here alive or killing himsel with the consequences that might follow when one refused to listen to the prince. He would let Arthur take the reins on this one, and explain things how he liked. It was easier to let somebody else handle things, and pretend he wasn't hearing the lies spewing off Arthur's own tongue. "I do not know if you have realized this about Merlin quite yet, but my consort is extraordinarily clumsy. You can probably ask just about anybody in the castle, and they'd be able to tell you stories about him."
And Merlin could vaguely note in the background, how some people standing nearby-close enough to strain their ears to try and hear the false news of what had happened to him as if it would be the gospel truth-were nodding their heads, like they were also showing the Blue King that Arthur spoke the truth about Merlin's character. Merlin could hear snippets of what other people were whispering about, little bitty stories of when they had seen Merlin falling in front of them. Half of the stories weren't even something that happened. Had only been made up so somebody could get about five minutes of attention. And the other half was when somebody had made him fall via trip or shove or thrown, only reworded when they conveniently left out their own involvement as to how Merlin had ended up face first in the ground with both cracked jaw and the wind knocked out of him. Absolutely disgusting.
The consort had to clench his jaw to stop the fighter in him from taking over, wanting to scream that none of this was true. Sure, Merlin's a klutz. He had accepted that long ago, and he still had not quite grown into his lanky arms and legs yet. But not once, with how many times Merlin had tripped over his own awkward feet, had ever resulted in him having anything worse then a scraped palm when he tried catching himself. He had certainly never did anything that would have resulted in busting up half his face. Until it looked like it was the mangled remains of a dead animal after a dog had gone and gotten into it. But who was Merlin Pendragon, to try and rebuff the Prince's lie?
"I was getting prepared for tonight's festivities when one of the guards informed me that my consort had taken quite a nasty fall down the stairs. And was now being seen by our Master Physician, Gaius. Obviously, I had to rush down and make sure he was alright for myself. Luckily, despite Merlin's appearance, nothing is broken and he will make quite a swift recovery over the next few days. So there's no reason to be concerned." Arthur said in an easily measured voice, with no hint of a lie to be detected. "Luckily, he was still able to walk and had no troubles coming tonight. It just took us a little bit longer then we thought it would."
Merlin had to admit, the prince was grudgingly good at what he did. If Merlin hadn't lived through it himself, perhaps he'd have even believed it. If the offending party-him, as it would be-didn't speak up. Arthur had even came up with a reason as for why Merlin would've been at Gaius', if there had been anybody else watching him leave from his chambers earlier in the night. That would probably stop anybody from trying to connect the dots and realize Merlin was actually sleeping there at the moment. While also making himself sound as if he was a 'concerned husband' who risked upsetting Bayard by being late because he just 'had' to rush downstairs and find out if his consort was going to live or not. But the blond had to be overestimating his healing abilities if he thought it was going to be gone in a few days, well…it might be gone in a few days, actually. He usually healed pretty fast. But it was hard to think he would, when he still felt so sore all over his body.
…And not all of the pain was sorely physical.
"Your consort…fell down the stairs." Uther repeated with a slow and incredulous tone. Arthur didn't hesitate to nod his head in agreement, and Uther narrowed his eyes onto Merlin as if he was a toad underneath his foot. "Of all the foolish of things you could've done boy. On all the day you could have decided to fallen-" and Merlin winced, wondering if the king truly believed Merlin had simply 'fallen'. It wasn't Merlin who was risking everything and teetering on the edge. It was the king's son who put him there, while lining things up to be his fault if things didn't work out with this precious treaty. "I do trust that you will be more careful in the future. I assume the next time we have royal guests visiting our castle and eager to meet the new member of our 'family', you will not come to them un-presentable like you are now. An embarrassment it is, for you to have came here like this and disrespected our guest."
Each word felt like a lash against Merlin as the king lectured him, cruelly and without mincing words, easily imitating the way his son would do it. It made Merlin wonder rather or not the two had gotten together and organized such a thing. But he felt like such a cry baby, his hair length just long enough to cast a short shadow over his eyes to hide the wetness he could feel making them shine. And all the while, Arthur was standing there. And allowing his father to lecture Merlin on things that were clearly his fault. It was one thing to place all the blame on him, but it was another thing to have him living through a public ridicule. But he shouldn't be surprised, and he wasn't. This wasn't the worse thing Arthur had done with him, his sore face could attest to that much.
But there was a clearing of a throat that stopped Uther dead cold in mid-lecture. NOBODY ever interrupted the older king as he was talking. Most people in this kingdom knew better then to say something, and draw any unnecessary attention towards themselves when the king was already in this awful mood. But not everybody in this room today lived within the boarders of this kingdom…Bayard. The Blue King was once again staring Merlin down as if he was trying to dissect him of all his secrets, and Merlin shifted uncomfortably along his feet. Bayard seemed entirely unbothered by the silence that had once again overtaken the room as all others turned their attention onto the Mercia King.
"It seems as if things have not changed much since we had last seen each other as teenagers, Uther. You still allow your mouth to get away from you as you speak." Bayard said with a tone that could've been mistaken as a friendly joke, like he was looking to tease about the mess they'd been as youths. But his eyes were deceptively calm, no hint of teasing within them as his words caused a ripple effect. Horrid gasps as all the nobles and servants from Camelot started sharing looks of disbelief and shock. Knights from Mercia looking at each other with smirks, recognizing their king's lack of decorum, but clearly expecting no less from the other man. And Uther didn't say anything. Though his face turned an awful shade of red…perhaps enough blood was rushing to his head that it would make it explode as if it were a melon. "But I do think this is one thing that can be let go. I am sure Consort Merlin did not throw himself down the stairs. It was simply nothing more than an ill-timed incident. I am not offended. Consort Merlin has even dragged himself to these celebrations when he should be in his bed resting after his ordeal. But I see his priorities clearly align with Camelot if he decided to come to our little banquet instead. An honorable thing indeed. And I think we should all be grateful that it wasn't anything worse. A fall could have broken his neck instead. To your Consort."
Merlin felt as if all of the air had just washed out of his lungs when King Bayard lifted his goblet to Merlin. A toast, meant to honor the consort who had 'bravely' fought his way with an opponent of stairs and won. It would've looked mocking if anybody else had done it. As if they were jokingly trying to compare a set of stairs to surviving a mass murderer. But he could see the king's eyes, and Merlin couldn't say he knew how to react to this. It was so unexpected, and he could feel the blush rising onto his face. People like Merlin…they didn't get toasts made in their honor for 'dragging themselves to a feast injured'. They got spit at. And thrown out of the grand hall for being such a disgrace. But as the Blue King brought his wine to his lips and drunk deeply, Merlin glanced around and could see several people doing it as well. Or at least…all of Mercia's men were drinking from their wine to show they were also 'honoring' Merlin. Though he did notice when the Camelot side obviously snubbed him, nobody lifting a hand to even touch their goblet to do the same. Nobody…except for Gaius and Morgana. And Merlin was sure Gwen would've done it as well, if she had been sitting at a table with a drink in front of her.
Merlin brought his gaze back to King Bayard, who nodded to him in silent camaraderie….it had only lasted for a few short seconds, but to Merlin it felt as if eons had passed. Shaken and confused and…knowing he definitely didn't deserve to have a toast made in his honor. He didn't deserve it because he was nothing more than a fraud…he hadn't came here just to show his 'priorities' were with Camelot. He'd arrived only because Arthur had made him. Both by circumstances and with force…he would have turned his ire onto his uncle and Gwen and even Morgana, if he had known they'd gone out of their way just to help him. People who attended feasts to get out of something worse happening…did not deserve the toast of honor from a King. And Merlin wondered rather King Bayard would've still honored him with a toast if he knew he was no survivor. If he knew Merlin was getting beaten up on the sidelines by his own husband…he wouldn't seem like he was so brave then. An absolute coward. Unable to truly stick up for himself and make all the pain stop. Resorting to going through drastic measures to get it to stop himself…
Arthur cleared his throat roughly, jolting Merlin back into his reality. He had almost forgotten Arthur was still standing at his side…Bayard's actions must've really stunned Merlin to have forgotten his biggest tormentor was still holding onto his arm. " "Well then. Now that my consort has survived his faithful fall, perhaps the celebrations can commence." The prince was looking decidedly uncomfortable. As if he'd also not expected for Bayard to have done what he did. But the prince seemed to recover quickly enough, and slid his arm out of Merlin's numb grip. Merlin's arm fell to his side as if it was nothing more then a limp noodle. Something that would need to be tossed before it ruined all the other noodles that sat in the pot. "Come with me, Merlin. Let's get you seated down. We wouldn't want you to aggravate anything standing around and have Bayard's toast go to waste."
Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin when Arthur placed a hand on the small of his back, intent on leading him around the table and to his proper seat between Morgana and the empty chair that would house Arthur. As would be a proper order of the succession: King Uther…Prince Arthur…Consort Merlin…and Lady Morgana. But from the way his husband was giving Merlin the side eye, he had clearly noticed how skittish Merlin was behaving. And Merlin winced when the prince purposely pressed his hand harder against the base of his spine, imprinting his hand on Merlin's back as if it was an iron brand. And Merlin walked with numbed legs as the prince pushed on him. Playing the doting husband who was 'guiding' Merlin to his chair.
Because yeah. Perhaps he deserved to be touched when he didn't want to be. A 'good husband' as Merlin was supposed to be, certainly didn't shy away from his husband's touch. A touch was something that should've been melted into, easy going and free between two people who choose to spend a lifetime together. But Merlin didn't feel much like playing at pretend. And only stared blankly when Arthur-really laying it on thickly for the crowd-pulled his chair out for him, waving a hand towards it with a flourish. The last time Arthur pulled a chair out for Merlin, had been the night they had married, and immediately attended their wedding feast afterwards. It had been a bold Merlin-cocky with his nativity and knowing not yet what the consequences would be for his disrupting their lives-who had ignored it. And taken a seat beside the king where Arthur was meant to sit.
But since Uther was looking as if he wished his little 'falling down the steps' really had broken his neck, Merlin opted to sit in the chair offered to him. And nearly fell out of it when Arthur gave a mighty push, easily shoving the chair into its place under the table. Merlin's belly a scant inch away from melding into the table itself. Though that wasn't a bad idea. Being a table. Being able to actually serve its one and only purpose, which was to hold up the food being provided to it. The only way Merlin could've failed at a job like that, was if his table leg had broken. Sending all the plates crashing to the ground in loud smashes, one after the other. But it was Merlin…and that impossible turn of events would definitely happen if he was living out his days as a simple table.
A hand landed, hot and heavy on his shoulder. And the only reason Merlin didn't come up out of his chair-reverting into the freaked out Merlin who panicked over every little thing now that he was around so many people-was because that hand held him down in place. Refusing to let up, even when Arthur leaned forward, and Merlin refused to look back, his eyes staring unfocused ahead, as the man's breath ghosted down the side of his neck. To anybody else, it may've looked like an intimate whisper, a sweet nothing, or even a calming reassurance. But they didn't hear the sickly sweet words the prince whispered into his ear. They didn't feel the ghost of a smirk as Arthur's lips just barely brushed alongside the top of his ear. And they most definitely didn't know how Merlin's stomach lurched as the prince pulled away, leaving him with his words echoing in his head…
"I hope you enjoy what tonight brings you. Because after we get through this…you and I…things are going to change…my little whore."
Merlin didn't know how long he sat there, staring in front of him as the people returned to their 'before the signing' feast and celebrations. The blood had drained out of his face until it left him this pasty face character, bringing out the bruises under his eyes that were caused by many sleepless nights in his bed. The majority of his body was frozen stiffer then if Arthur had thrown him into a snowstorm and left him behind to freeze to death. Except for his hands…his hands were shaking harder then a leaf flying in the breeze. He was not able to get them to stop, couldn't even get them under control long enough for him to do his finger thing. The table was the only thing hiding his fear, and Merlin pressed those shaking fingers in between his thighs. The table wasn't safe and anybody could've bent down to pick something up and caught sight of Merlin's weakness. He didn't like it…he most definitely didn't like this room. With how open it was, with all of these strangers…with Arthur making nice beside him, the consort vaguely noticing Arthur taking his seat beside him.
Merlin's head was almost robotic again, when he turned and looked at Arthur, the pain neigh in his eyes. But the man did not look back at him. The prince leaned back in his chair for his manservant to place a plate-the same plate Merlin had chosen before everything had blown up in his face-directly in front of him. And Arthur was smiling easily, looking like he had not a care in the world, as Morris started piling up meat and cheeses and potatoes and fruit onto the place until the thing looked to be two items away from spilling over the top of it. How could…how could…Merlin swallowed hard before turning back around to face the crowds sitting at the other two tables. His fingers felt icy cold against his legs, his new outfit too thin and silky to do much to help him not feel it.
…How could anybody threaten somebody, and then go and start eating dinner as if nothing had happen. How could the prince call him a whore, and then start spooning himself up a mouthful of potatoes as if all was right in the world. How it was even possible…people would like to say that those who practiced magic had no soul. For they had traded their soul to the devil in exchange for their magic. But Merlin knew all of that was nothing more then propaganda to ensure people were frightened of people like him. But…Arthur really didn't have a soul of his own if he could threaten somebody as if it was normal for him. And then to insinuate…insinuate that he was going to do something tomorrow…
'After tonight, everything is going to change.'
That didn't sound much like a man who would be willing to kill Merlin before the festivities were over. That sounded like a man who had already decided what he was going to do to him. And whatever it was…Merlin could've only imagined the psychological damage it was going to inflict on him. He had to step up his game. Stop Arthur before Arthur had any real chance at stopping him. But Merlin had already tried to pull out his old self-the one he knew Arthur hated with every tiny fiber of his being-and Arthur hadn't so much as tried hitting him again. He needed to go bigger, needed to do something that would hit home. Something so huge, Arthur would allow his temper to get the best of him and put him out of his ever growing misery.
But what…what could be so big, something that would drive Arthur's bloodlust to the surface so that he'd act out rashly, despite their 'true love' lies telling him it was a bad idea. He didn't know, but he needed to find out quickly. Because if he did not…there was no telling what was going to happen after the party died down and people started heading for the bed chambers. There was no telling what would happen to him if he couldn't disappear in the crowd…but even if he did get all the way to Gaius' chambers…there would be no sleeping for him tonight. How could he? When he imagined every single creak coming from his door was really Arthur, preparing to make his move on him. How could he sleep when the prince could kick down the door and drag him out into the street to do whatever he had planned. Something public…to humiliate Merlin like the prince thought Merlin had humiliated him with all these falsehoods of his 'dates' going around.
Merlin barely noticed when Morris-since Merlin no longer had a servant of his own-placed a plate in front of him and started filling it up with food he wouldn't be eating. But he did eventually notice the intense stare he could feel across his skin. Which wasn't 'entirely' strange, because there was still people at the other tables glancing over towards him as if they were waiting for Merlin to do some entertaining trick they didn't want to miss. Merlin didn't altogether know what made this stare different enough for him to notice but it had him looking around. Until he found the one person who had not averted their eyes away when Merlin saw them…
Bayard.
Looking around both Uther and Arthur…
Merlin bunched his shoulders up, not sure why Bayard was looking at him. Had he not gotten out whatever he wanted to say when he had given Merlin an 'honored toast'. Which was definitely something Merlin didn't think a peasant had ever been subjected to before. Those were mostly used for knights who had done something remarkable. Something a knight would get if…they had been captured by the enemy and tortured for months on end for information on Camelot and its secrets. Only for Camelot to learn-after he had been rescued-that he hadn't broken and told the enemy a single thing. Leaving their defenses completely in tact and ready if the enemy tried to launch an actual attack. But anyway…why was Bayard looking at him now. Now that he wasn't in front of the table anymore, getting attention from every direction looking at him…there was really no reason for the Blue King to be bothered with him.
…Merlin saw Bayard's eyes slide away from him and straight to Arthur, with that same calculating stare he had earlier…
Merlin couldn't have flung himself back into his chair faster then he did, his back pressed harshly against the backboard of the chair. His eyes wider then melons. His heart seizing in his chest,vaguely noticing Morris finishing up fixing his plate before stepping back-as a thought hit him harder across the head then if it had been a sledgehammer. Bayard had never struck Merlin as an idiot, he'd seemed far smarter then any of the other royals Merlin had met before. So was it possible that Bayard had seen…did the other king realize something was wrong with the story Arthur had peddled them?
Merlin's brain raced into overdrive, trying to piece together the puzzle he'd gotten from a single look…
Wasn't falling down the stairs an age old excuse to someone who was being hit on the regular? Merlin could remember, it was often a favored excuse made by a woman who had lived in Ealdor when he was a child. This woman would come and see his mother for help being patched up, citing the excuse as the reason for her bruises. Made rememberable because this woman didn't have steps in her home. But Merlin knew after her husband had died under 'mystery circumstances', another mark had never appeared on her again. Everybody had known her husband was beating on her, though she had refused to accept help until she'd taken matters in her own hands. Was it the same here…had Bayard figured out Arthur was hitting him?
But how?
Unless one of Bayard's servants had been in the market that day and saw what happened, he couldn't see how the Blue King could have figured it out so easily. And Merlin certainly didn't remember seeing anybody clad in blue whenever he'd been out and about. But then again, he'd also been just a bit occupied by getting his face smashed across the ground as if he was ground meat that needed to be flattened out long before the cooks could start cooking it. Or perhaps Bayard was just more perceptive then Uther was? Maybe Uther was able to figure it out too, if he bothered thinking about things instead of doing exactly what his son did, and believing the very first thing he'd heard.
And Arthur…Merlin swallowed hard…the prince had taken control over the conversation when Bayard had asked him what had happened. Wasn't that also the classic signs of an abuser? Monopolizing the conversation so the one they had under their control wouldn't do something stupid like asking for help? That woman from his village…other then when she came to see his mother for help, she had rarely talked with anyone. Not unless her husband was there, who would often jump in and take control of the conversation so smoothly, all of the adults had taken a while before they realized just how toxic that kind of behavior was. Maybe Arthur doing this and not insisting Merlin be the one to speak, was actually what'd gotten Bayard's notice.
And the toast Bayard had given him…perhaps there was also a different meaning to it 'other' then Merlin not dying from a broken neck via 'fall down the stairs'. Perhaps Bayard meant something else to his toast…maybe it had been a distraction meant to get Uther to stop yelling at him. Maybe it had been less about 'honoring Merlin' for still deciding to come to the feast even when he was obviously hurt. And more about the Blue King trying to help Merlin get away from the scrutiny of everybody else. It hardly seemed believable that Bayard was trying to help him out. Or maybe he was only trying to help out Arthur-that whole 'nobles club elitist' thing coming into play, before somebody else had realized what was going on just as Bayard had.
Maybe he was just thinking about this too hard, and maybe Bayard didn't really know anything at all.
At some point, Bayard had stopped looking at him and was resuming his quiet conversation with Uther. But this meant Merlin could finally breath on his own. He was just being this absolutely ridiculous fella, Merlin reasoned to himself. There was no evidence once so ever, other then a strange look the king had cast towards his husband, that proved any of what he'd been thinking was true. There was no evidence that the Blue King pieced together the truth in five minutes, when he still had Arthur denying he was an abuser for the last several weeks. He was being stupid, and so what if Bayard did know the truth. It wasn't as if it was going to change anything. He was still going to be here, left behind with Arthur, long after the Mercia King and his people had left Camelot's grounds.
Merlin's eyes fell down onto his plate, all the sounds of the room reverberated in his eardrums, where he couldn't help but notice…he had noticeably less food on his plate. It didn't matter how much Merlin had, since he wasn't going to eat it, and it was still far more then they could have afforded to eat in one sitting back home. But it was still…less then. But that was what Merlin got for allowing Morris to be the one to fix his plate, instead of doing it himself like he would've usually done if he wasn't such a mess. Arthur-prince and heir of the entire kingdom-got more food then one man should've been expected to eat in one sitting. And Merlin…he got this single leftover drumstick and a messy spoonful of peas.
Just Morris making it clear how much he enjoyed having the Consort around again.
"So, Merlin." The consort whipped his head around with the sound of his name, his muscles coiling up on the off chance he had to run for it, like a scared rabbit trying to dart his way into the underbrush to escape a skilled hunter. But all it was, was the Blue King, leaning forward so that he could see the consort around Uther (who stopped what he was saying, as a displeased frown filtered on his face) and Arthur (who was stopping in mid-bite the second he notice somebody trying to make conversation with his consort). The Blue King didn't seem to notice, smiling brightly at Merlin as if the bruises on his face wasn't something to be grimacing at. "Gosh, I really do hate these tables, don't you? They are so impractical. It really does make it hard to talk, doesn't it? That's why those in my kingdom rarely sit down a line like this. It's hard to get to know somebody when you can hardly see them."
Merlin…wasn't sure what to make of that, as King Uther was cutting in to explain with elegant words about how sitting in a row like this was tradition. Allowing for their people to get a good front row seat to seeing the Royal Family United as a single United Front. Merlin was sure there was about a good half dozen or so technical terms in there, but he knew there was no chance of him remembering any of them. Merlin was a bit pre-occupied with other things. Like…why was Bayard talking to him about the table? Why was he talking about a kingdom Merlin would never get to see as long as he was a pawn in whatever game Uther and Arthur were playing with their people. And what had Bayard meant when he'd said it was hard 'getting to know somebody.' Surely Bayard could not have meant he wanted to get to know Merlin. Now 'that' was an impractical decision. Merlin was the screws up. And the one that ruined lives by just existing. He was a fuck up of epic proportions. And anybody wanting to know him-this might also be Bayard's excuse for talking to him, and trying to flesh out rather his possible theories about Merlin being abused was true, which gave Merlin even more anxiety-was clearly going to be for nefarious reasons.
"I was just marveling at the decorations being used for the festivities tonight. And it made me remember how much my queen loves to decorate-" his apparent lesbian queen who was off having fun with her female lover while the Blue King was here trying to make peace. "She says it is something to help her relax. Being able to change things around, since it's something so small and meaningless. It's a type of decision making that she knows isn't going to ruin the kingdom if she makes a slight mistake. Somebody is hardly going to throw a fit because their taste in decor defers, you know." And the consort continued to stare, utterly baffled at what the other King was getting at. As the king lifted up his goblet and took a generous drink of his wine, casually smacking his lips after putting it back down. "It has me wondering if you also had a hand in choosing the look that goes on tonight. My beautiful Queen might be dismissive about it, but i think a look could say a lot about a person. And it's also something others will remember when they think back to their day. The food they have eaten, the colors splashing out at them…perhaps they will not be remembered, as little details compared to when we do the actual signing. But I am quite certain people will remember details here and there years from now that will be able to paint a better picture of today. And that will be quite a remarkable thing to achieve, I do believe."
Merlin was sure there was some hidden meaning behind the other king's words. Something that would elude only to the consort that he 'knew' what Arthur had done to him. And he was pretty sure he knew what it was, though it was possible he was overthinking this all over again. King Bayard had said a 'look' could say a lot about a person. He had been talking about the room itself, Merlin knew from the context. But why didn't he just say 'decorations.' Look, seemed like this funny word to use instead. Unless he meant 'look' and 'person' as in 'Merlin' and how he 'looked.' He had also said that people would remember details from today that would paint a much better picture. Details…it was hard to imagine, now that the consort was looking around, that people would remember a damn thing about what he had chosen. Remember the thick red Camelot banners he had chosen or the cloth napkins he had thought looked exactly the same, or the eating utensils with the swirls on the handles, or the plates with the blueish boarder encircling all around it. But…it wasn't nearly as hard to think about the people remembering Merlin-as Uther had said-being a disgrace. And an embarrassment. And Bayard toasting him in response to Uther's outrage.
Remarkable…was most certainly not him.
And Merlin most certainly did not believe choosing all these decorations was meaningless. Well…yes…they really were in a way…in a major way, actually. But Merlin had been positive choosing wrong really was going to lead them to a war…but what did he know? Other then how he'd let Clarissa get into his head and made the decorations out to be a something far larger issue then what they actually were.
"Oh, I believe there's been some kind of misunderstanding here, King Bayard. I know that it's usually the job of one's consort or queen to make decisions dealing with the home, but my consort has not made any kind of choices." Merlin's husband cut in before Merlin could get his bearings straight, quickly putting down his fork so he could focus more on the conversation. More like, so he could monitor what was being discussed with his consort. And rather or not he found this topic to be acceptable. "As has been previously mentioned, my consort is still new around these parts. And even newer to the ways of nobility, so we've been taking things slow to accommodate his learning curve. No. Our decorations were chosen by Madame Teresa, our Royal Tailer. She has an eye for color. And has been keeping up with the job on top of all her other duties for as long as I could remember. For as long as somebody wasn't here to properly take it up. But this will be far above my consort's skill level at the moment. Perhaps the next time you visit us in Camelot, things will be different but for now. It just isn't happening."
As Arthur finished his monologue, the prince thought it was a good idea to put a hand on Merlin's shoulder. The consort stared down at it, as if it was something that would give him an infectious disease that would peel away his flesh and eat at whatever skin was left. The prince squeezing his shoulder as if he was a lover comforting his beloved for being unable to choose something as simple as colors. As if he was trying to 'comfort' Merlin for being such a waste of human skin, so useless he could contribute nothing to the cause. He felt his jaw going tight, a muscle jumping in the jawline as the other man slid his hand from Merlin's person, his touch seemingly lingering long after he was gone.
And Merlin thought…this was his chance. This was probably his one and only opening to do something to force Arthur's hand. He had to do it now, say something, do something…he didn't even care what. Just as long as he got some kind of reaction out of Arthur. He was desperate too, knowing that his time for such things was running short. This party had to end at some point, and just how long after would Merlin be alone before Arthur got hands on him again. Before he was going to do…whatever changes he had been talking about earlier. He had to…had too…
"Really, you think your consort is so incompetent, that there is no reasonable expectation for him to do something that is as simple as…picking out designs or colors. Even if he does not have an eye for such things, it can't take too much skills to learn a bit of the basics by this point. The two of you have been married for several months now, yes? Surely the Royal Tailor could have taught him a few things within this area of running a household." Bayard said casually, through he was arching an eyebrow at Arthur, the two talking over Merlin's head and around the stone faced Uther, practically daring to have the prince admit Merlin was a useless waste of space in the castle. Perhaps this was because the King wanted to agree, or because he was trying to talk Arthur into a corner and admit he thought very little of the person he was meant to be in love with. "Or are you also saying that your consort is incapable of learning new skills or arts? And if that is the case, then I would like to know what traits you found him to be in possession of, that you would bring a newcomer into your Royal Line."
Arthur's easy going smile had slid off his face completely, because this was probably the first time ever, that all Arthur said was being twisted. Or taken out of context. Or thrown in his face. Bayard was pointing out very sensible things one should think about when bringing a newcomer into the Royal line of succession. Especially one that couldn't bare heirs of any sort. But to Arthur…it might as well have felt like he was being attacked. And Merlin couldn't even be happy that this was finally Arthur's moment to see how fun it was. To know how it felt when nothing you said or did seemed right. But it wasn't a time for gloating. It was a time for Merlin to assert himself and remind Arthur that he was here. And not just a prop meant for their own entertainment.
He just needed to speak up…
Now…
Or maybe now…
Or Maybe…
Good lord, Arthur was starting to stumble over his words as he tried to explain how none of what Bayard had said is right and Merlin had many good qualities. And as fun as it would be to listen to Arthur trip over his words as he tried coming up with 'good' traits of Merlin he could use to prove to King Bayard that he was in love…he had to end this shitshow…
Now…
Ugh, fuck it. He wanted Arthur to kill him anyway, and all of this hesitation and panicking and overthinking was delaying the inevitable.
"Actually King Bayard, you're right. I did pick out everything that you see tonight." Merlin spoke up tightly, forcing both of the men to stop the little pissing contest they seemed to be having, though Merlin was utterly clueless as to how this had started in the first place. And when Merlin noted Arthur starting to stumble and fumble and demand to know what he's talking about, Merlin turned back to him with this thin lipped little smile. Trying to ignore the quivering of his bones or the phantom ache echoing from his wrist bone, "You may want to have a little chat with your servants. You might think I cannot handle a responsibility like that, but they have been accosting me all day, asking me to choose this or to choose that. Perhaps you should just be happy I didn't go out of my way to choose the worse possible thing I can think of. Don't you think lime green banners would look fetching along your walls?"
Arthur looked positively horrified, this ghastly shade coming over his face when he realized just how much power Merlin had been in possession of that day. Of course, it only made sense for the servants to come rushing to Merlin during the first official party he was attending. As Consort, it really was more of an expectation for him to take over. And Bayard was letting out an unkingly snort, chortling as if Merlin had said the funniest thing on the planet-and probably imagining just what everybody's reaction would've been if they had walked in and seen lime green banners hanging from the walls-and cuffing Uther on the shoulder. Saying something like 'I really do like this one, your son has made an excellent choice. I do believe Camelot needs someone with a bit of backbone.'
This was clearly a slight against Arthur, as if Bayard noticed the arse kissing Arthur did every time he tried to talk to him or appeal to his good side. Polite conversation, rather then allowing themselves to be who they were. Rude and all. The consort only heard this though, as if it was a whisper in the back of his mind, entirely focused on Arthur's hand. Arthur's hand which was currently holding the handle of his spoon as if he had a limp wrist. Most likely, Arthur wasn't able to eat a damn thing anymore, knowing that the utensils and the food and even the plates had been chosen by Merlin's apparently tiny and dainty fingers. Hands that shouldn't hold the huge and massive responsibility it was to choose colors that were not going to clash horribly against the other or offend King Bayard when he first walked in.
Merlin's stomach roiled at the thought, but he reveled in the stumped look on Arthur's face. He took power-see, talking wasn't nearly as hard as Merlin had been making it out to be just now-in baffling and horrifying Arthur. So ignoring the man staring holes into the side of his face, Merlin picked up his own spoon and scooped up a generous helping of those green peas rolling about in his nearly empty plate. The peas were large and juicy and burst with flavors he'd never before tasted, used to the peas back home that were dry and bitter and scrawnier-but might as well have tasted like ash.
Nothing would taste nearly as good anyway, Merlin thought as he forced himself to swallow the peas and give himself a little something in his stomach…nothing would satisfy Merlin more then the look on Arthur's face did.
Bayard and Uther started talking among themselves, as they ignored the 'youngsters' at their sides. And Merlin could just barely make out Uther bragging about the good qualities his son had. Things like his skills with a sword-yawn, Merlin was only interested in the sword nowadays if it would be used to gut him like a fish-and how he had a mind for strategies and would make a great asset among the leaders of Camelot by the time he was old enough to take over for Uther. Which…wasn't that just what Merlin wanted to hear. Arthur had the mind for battle strategies, which…perhaps that wasn't a bad thing to have. Since Arthur didn't have a mind for anything else. But it was entirely boring as well. Wasn't this meant to be a party? The parties in Ealdor had involved dancing and making bonfires and celebrating what little they had as they used only the barest minimum they could spare. Parties did not involve bragging about somebody's 'keen' battle ready mind.
And Merlin could feel Arthur still staring at him, as if he was trying to drill a hole into Merlin's head with his glare alone. It was most likely embarrassment, the prince horrified after he had been corrected about his assumptions by Merlin. Arthur didn't like when Merlin corrected him. Which was why it was the perfect thing for Merlin to admit too. Something he was able to use to get Arthur riled up a bit more…and Merlin set his spoon down with a soft clang. If he thought his stomach roiled with the thought of eating, it was absolutely nothing if he compared it to the thought of Arthur watching him eat.
How absolutely disgusting was it, to have Arthur staring at him as his lips encircled around the spoon. How was Merlin supposed to chew when Arthur was showing his hostility in the worse of ways. And how was Merlin meant to swallow up his food, his throat bobbing as it went down, when Arthur's dark eyes looked like two voids trying to swallow him hole or punish him for speaking out loud. Fucking hell…Merlin could feel his hand itching towards the butter knife sitting besides his plate. And he wondered how hard he would have to slice before the dull blade would slit across his throat. And end all this tensed up misery.
Merlin's hand froze two inches away from reaching the knife when Arthur finally leaned over, his stupid breath ghosting along Merlin's neck-heated enough to make Merlin wish he could scrub himself clean with icy cold river water to get all of it off of him-again. Merlin could just barely see how half-lidded Arthur's eyes were as he tried leaning away, arching his neck unintentionally to get Arthur's breath off of him. It only drew Arthur's gaze down across the length of his neck and Merlin felt as if he couldn't breath, the room too stifling hot all of a sudden.
"You are embarrassing me in front of King Bayard. I know it is probably some plan you've got hidden away inside of your head to ruin this meeting, but remember what I said. Things are going to change tomorrow. And how you behave tonight is going to decide what I do about you tomorrow, whore. Do you understand." Arthur asked him, voice as smooth as silk and Merlin curled his fingers into a tight ball to try and stop them from shaking. Arthur had been all sugar sweet, using the word 'whore' as if it was a term of endearment. A cute nickname meant to be shared between lovers who spent all their nights cuddling together in front of a warm fire. Merlin didn't think it was nearly as sweet, glaring at his plate when he jerked his head harshly the one time. He still found it was hard to breath, when Arthur leaned away from him with this self-satisfied smirk. "Good, I am glad that we are coming to an understanding."
There was no understanding, Merlin thought as the fire that burned in his chest rattled his ribcage with increasing force, and begging Merlin to release it. He had only been allowing it to come forth in small doses, whenever he would get lippy with Arthur. But he knew if he allowed for more of that fire to emerge…it would probably be hard for him to contain it back up. But god, did it burn as if he had a pyre set to light inside of him as he watched Arthur pick up his wine and take a big and generous swig of it. Behaving as if he was the king of all creation and people should be basking to be in his shadows. Egotistical. Disgusting. Little toe rag…there was a fog trying to descend over Merlin's cracked up mind, trying to protect him from the worse of Arthur. But Merlin knew if he allowed it to descend…there was no telling what he would find when he came out of it. Perhaps his magic would finally roar and shatter every window this grand hall had, sending shards of blades flying until Merlin was free.
Justice being served against his tormentors.
There was a loud crash that startled Merlin out of his raging fire, and a loud exclamation of 'Morgana!' that had the dark haired boy whipping around to stare at Arthur-where he had heard the loud exclamation coming from. Somehow, Merlin had been so caught up with his own turbulent emotions, he hadn't noticed Morgana reaching over him. Before dumping her entire goblet of wine onto Arthur's lap. There wasn't all that much considering Morgana had drunk move of it by this point, but there was still enough for this dark ugly patch of wetness to stain across the leg of Arthur's pants. Merlin had his jaw dropping, looking down at Arthur's lap as Morris was rushing forward to try mopping up the mess for himself, and his hands wandering a little too close to Arthur's crotch for the prince's comfort. If Arthur's jolt and yanking the napkin out of Morris' hands with an exclamation of 'I can do it, that will be all, Morris!'
Arthur's cheeks were staining red after his startled yell had drew far too much attention to them, desperately scrubbing at the wetness to dry it up before it could stain and he'd be forced to walk around like a common peasant with stains on his clothes. But Merlin could feel his lips starting to curl into his first real genuine smile in a long time-and god, did it feel both strange and good to smile-as he watched the prince's cheeks go more ruddy. And he made no move to correct the prince and let him know that scrubbing his pants like he was would only make the stain set more firmly in the fabric. Not take it out like Arthur was trying to do.
"I am so sorry Arthur dear. Please," Morgana glanced down the table towards Uther and Bayard watching. "I do hope all can be forgiven. I was simply trying to get Merlin's attention and must've overreached. Or perhaps I have drunken just a bit too much. Strange, as one goblet hardly effects me in a manner like this. But perhaps it is for the best." She looked so mournfully as she turned back to Arthur, her lips pouting a little as the prince glared at her, not buying her act for one single second. "It seems as if Arthur was getting just a little bit too close to his consort then what is acceptable. I know it must be hard to keep your hands off your husband, but it is probably something that shouldn't be done in public. I do like looking on the brighter side. Perhaps you could think of my little mishap as your version of getting a cold bath?"
Morgana arched an eyebrow at Arthur, casually lifting up her goblet so that Gwen could refill it for her. The handmaiden quickly hurried forward, and Merlin could spy her trying to bite back her smile…maybe Merlin had gone mad, but there was this feeling in his gut. This bubbling burst of what could have only been amusement. Such a strange feeling-as Lady Morgana flashed him an amused smirk of her own-after he'd spent so long in this dark voice. And it only grew worse after hearing the horrific gasp ripping from Arthur's throat, as he looked at Morgana completely scandalized. And Uther was on the other side of him, sputtering incoherent at the bold words coming from Morgana. The two girls had planned all of that, Merlin realized as Morgana took a slow sip…Merlin was almost regretful that he hadn't been part of the plan.
But he supposed this was the girl's way of…protecting him? Merlin had a feeling that another glass of wine was going to be dumped on Arthur if they thought he was acting out. The Lady might not have been able to hear what Arthur had said to him, but she had most decidedly decided to take matters into her own hands if she saw how uncomfortable he'd been in that moment. But…
Merlin couldn't help but notice the way Arthur slid his chair a little closer towards his father, as if he was trying to put up a bit more distance between the two of them. Merlin wanted to shake his head at how ridiculous Arthur was, because the gay marriage apparently wouldn't convince people the other man was gay. But sitting next to Merlin would make them all think he was. Morgana wasn't wrong though. Arthur seemed to always have a hand on Merlin for one reason or the other, he was just happy this closeness hadn't given him an extra bit of trauma to work through. Though what a cold bath had to do was anything was a mystery to Merlin. Maybe the joke was just going straight over his head, because his husband sure was scowling at Morgana pretty hard. Looking as if he was trying to crucify Morgana with his eyes alone, as well as keeping his hands firmly on the table. Lest people think that he was putting his hands on Merlin if they hadn't been in full view.
"Ha," Bayard let out a bark of laughter, sending this curious look between the two young boy's, and Merlin couldn't have helped but wonder rather or not the king had put aside what suspicions he might've had about Merlin's 'relationship' with his husband. "Don't look so shocked, Uther." And the other king cuffed Uther on the back of his shoulder again, nearly knocking the king out of his chair with his exuberance, and forcing Uther to shake off the look of horror that had equally matched his son's. Because of course…how dare the King of Camelot think for one second that Arthur actually 'wanted' to touch Merlin. Merlin was absolutely positive Arthur would have to explain later on that he wasn't trying to do anything stupid like holding Merlin's hand as they ate their dinner. He was sure the Red King would behave a lot more favorably if he knew Arthur was carrying on the tradition of threatening Merlin. "They are both grown, married men. And they are in their first year of marriage still. The honeymoon phase I've heard the commoners calling it." As if they were a different species entirely. But while they most definitely weren't, the commoners might as well have a culture that was different to anything the nobles would ever know. "I am sure you can remember the excitement of young love. Personally, I think anything they can get away with in a room full of people will not be nearly as bad as what I'm sure they get into when the two of them retire for the night."
Everybody seemed to know what Bayard's little joke meant, other then Merlin, that was. Morgana choked a little on her wine, and Gwen quickly patted her back to make sure that she was alright. If anything, Merlin was sure he had not ever seen Arthur's face twisted up in so much disgust and horror. And even Uther was looking scandalized by what had to be a bold comment from Bayard. But Merlin only tilted his head and tries to keep up. He wasn't sure what Bayard meant by …what he and Arthur got up to when they retire. Thinking of it, obviously Bayard would assume Merlin was sleeping near Arthur. In the Royal Suite that he had abandoned a month or more ago. But what they could do together…perhaps he had simply meant Arthur and Merlin probably hung out together before they went to their separate beds. Yes? Maybe King Bayard even thought they were doing romantic things…like reading books together by the fireplace. Or talking about all the things they had done that day. Or just laying in front of a fire and hearing the crackling of the flames as they revealed in just being together.
The simple things that a helpless sap like Merlin would have wanted to do if Arthur wasn't such a horrific person. But the Royal Family really did have a way of making Merlin feel as if he was a flea…he got it. Uther and Arthur hated gay people and this meant they definitely hated Merlin even without his magic being known to them. But the reaction they had with Bayard's words was definitely more extreme for two people who were so insistent they carry out this whole 'we're really in love' crap. One would think the people constantly trying to harp on Merlin for failing to put on a decent show for the people, would have done a better job at hiding their disgust.
"Forgive me, King Bayard. But whatever Merlin and I do after night falls, is entirely our business. And I do not think that it is an appropriate topic for discussion." Arthur said, with his jaw so tight, Merlin was surprised he had managed to talk at all. Though Merlin could hardly understand how anything his Blue Kingship had said was inappropriate. But then again, it was Arthur who was offended by the mere prospect of them holding hands. Other romantic things were obviously going to be high on the list of offense. "I hope that you will be able to understand why I do not like talking about my husband in such ways."
It was the diplomatic answer. But…
Bayard nodded, holding up both his hands in what looked to be a temporary surrender, agreeing to no longer talk of any 'inappropriate' things. But Merlin was still lost, and he truly doubted he was going to get any answers from Arthur. Not since Arthur refused to say one thing to him without trying to include 'whore' in the sentence. And if Merlin had to hear it one more time…his insides clenched up, knowing he only needed to hold it together for a few more hours. Which felt as if it was far too long. But once he managed that, he was free to return to his room and scream into his pillow all that he liked. As long as he managed to escape Arthur if he tried to hold out his threat over him. If getting himself killed was going to turn out to be a bust…
Merlin turned away from Arthur trying to make nice with the other king, but it only made him look more like this kiss arse then he did before. The consort scanned his eyes all across the crowd of people who had returned back to their talkings now that whatever chaos Morgana had caused with her little bit of wine was over. Talking, talking, and more talking…and not one person out there noticing Merlin was only holding it together by a thread. Just an endless parade of people who would notice Arthur's exclamation. But would probably not even look up if Merlin stood on top of the table and started screaming until he was blue in the face. Not unless it would be to call him a freak, maybe even though their own goblet at him to get his down. Arthur would most likely grab onto him by the seat of his pants and jerk him back into his chair.
And…there was Cara.
Merlin sat up a bit straighter when he finally noticed his new friend in all her blue clad, dark haired glory. The Mercia girl he had knocked into just before Arthur had gone all batshit crazy on him. The serving girl that Gaius thought had some kind of weird crush on him…the young girl was standing by herself near one of the side doors. It was no wonder that the consort had not seen her until now. That particular doorway was half hidden by a pillar, keeping it out of the way and was used mainly by servants who couldn't come in through the main entrance…since servants needed to do their duties but be unnoticed and all that.
X
Arthur Pendragon found himself politely clapping his hands only when he heard his own people doing the same, taking it as his cue since he wasn't paying nearly as much attention as he should've been. His father and King Bayard had taken their place a few moments ago in front of the black podium holding the peace treaty in place. His father had just signed his name across one of the dotted lines, and was starting to say the speech he had worked up for this occasion. He was usually impressed by his father being able to sound strong and confident when he gave speeches-Arthur's own speech always sounded clumsy and off in comparison-but the only thing Arthur managed to catch was a few words here and there. Things like 'powerful new friendship' and 'treaty that could define our nations' and 'brand new start for all of our people.'
Merlin wasn't clapping.
Arthur could see that from where he was spying on the boy out of the corner of his eye. Merlin wasn't clapping. And this was a disrespect to his father who'd worked his arse off for all these months to get this treaty off the ground. While the consort had Arthur chasing him around the entire city more times then Arthur would ever care to admit. This was going to be another thing Arthur enforced in their lessons together later on. Make Merlin put both of his hands onto a table just so Arthur could give them a well meaning lash right across the back of them so a welt would form. Just so Merlin would know showing the proper respect to his father wasn't going to be something Merlin could just decide not to do. It would be a requirement…
Stupid bloody brat…giving Arthur more to work to remember to do just by sitting there. At least he looked pretty, and was giving Arthur something interesting to look at. All bruised up and broken…almost like one of the old paintings hanging all around the castle that he hardly noticed. Until it looked as if Merlin could slide into one with seamless ease. Yes, he had his little freak out when Bayard had started asking questions about it. But now that a heart attack like that had been, was over and done with, Arthur could sit back and enjoy the view for once. Instead of panicking himself into a near fit thinking about the speech of his own he would have to give soon.
His speech was crap. But hopefully nobody else was going to notice as long as Arthur could emulate the leader he was meant to become…
"Pardon me for interrupting, but Consort Merlin…if I may be of assistance to you." the small voice reached Arthur's ears as his father was getting into the crust of his speech. While this small form-crouched down low and squeezing between his and Merlin's chairs as to not disturb anybody else trying to listen to the grandness of his father's speech-smiled in a hapless manner as he held up a pitcher of wine. "I couldn't help but notice you did not have a drink to accompany your meal. I thought I could offer my assistance. It would be quite an honor if you allow this of me."
In retrospect, the Mercia manservant looked unremarkable in every way imaginable. With his floppy brown hair and his bright copper brown eyes and his hopeful smile…it actually was an honor to serve a royal family, even the Unwanted one from a different kingdom. Arthur wouldn't have noticed him if he were in a crowd. Would doubt he would've been able to pick him up out of a lineup later on, gone from his memory as fast as he had arrived. If Merlin hadn't nodded his head, picked up his goblet-Arthur hadn't noticed it was dry, unlike his own. But he supposed Morris had just forgotten to fill it up. His own personal manservant wasn't used to working for two people instead of one-and held it out to the manservant with a weak smile.
A smile.
Merlin was bloody smiling at this kid? Why the fuck was 'his' consort smiling at some random kid. At one of the servants, at that. A Mercian Servant…Arthur had always known Merlin and his strange insistence on being friends with the staff in this castle was going to cause problems. But he also had not expected Merlin to 'smile' at one directly in front of him at the most important banquet of their lives so far. He could feel the rush of blood in his veins, scowling annoyingly when the manservant lifted his pitcher up to hover over Merlin and his goblet.
His pitcher of wine…
And wine was a bad idea entirely for Merlin at the moment.
Arthur took immense pleasure in sliding his head over the lip of the goblet, only a few drops of wine spilling forth and the purple color splashing across the back of his hand, forcing Bayard's personal manservant to pull back before he could wet Arthur more then Morgana had. Arthur could barely feel the sticky mess Morgana had left behind on his leg, focused on the manservant trying to supply his husband with wine-a drink meant to lower inhibitions. "That won't be necessary. I think my husband doesn't need wine for this evening." None of Arthur's plans were going to see fruition if the boy-Merlin definitely looked like a lightweight, unless that was just one more thing Arthur was assuming about him (just like he had assumed the boy was telling the truth by being a virgin and an idiot)-and Arthur could hardly do anything to the other if he was too drunk to realize what was going on. "I think that just water will be fine for him."
The two younger boy's stared at Arthur as if they thought he had grown two heads, but Arthur was obviously the one that made the rules. Such as what he would allow his husband to fill his body with. But it still infuriated Arthur to know end, as he saw the serving boy give a questioning look towards the Consort to see rather or not this was okay with him. And the prince grounded his teeth together, knowing he had to be ruining his teeth because of how much Merlin made him do it, but hardly caring in the moment. Arthur outranked Merlin and there was no and, ifs, or buts about it. The servant was meant to jump up and do what Arthur told him to do. What he should not be doing was asking Merlin's 'permission' to follow through with it. As if Merlin had any say on rather or not he would get to spend the evening falling into a drunken stupor.
But before Arthur could give the manservant a piece of his mind and probably drag unwanted attention to them as the king was nearing the end of his speech, Merlin was already flashing that stupidly innocent-moronic and completely fake since Merlin was in no way 'innocent'-smile at the boy. "I do think that water sounds great right now. You know some of these nobles are so stingy with their drinks. Unable to share even with their husband's. But thank you, anyway. Water will be great." And Merlin set his goblet back down on the table to wait to be filled. But then the manservant had the actual nerve to 'giggle', as if Merlin had just made this particularly funny joke at Arthur's expanse.
Perhaps Arthur would have been infuriated by Merlin trying to emasculate him. Calling him 'stingy' when he had no real reason to be. Camelot has dozens of wine cellars which got to be used at their leisure. Merlin could've had wine barrels by the dozen if he so desired it-or if the prince felt generous enough to allow it. But the serving boy was walking away to fetch the pitcher of water on the other side of the hall. And his giggle was echoing in his ears. And Merlin had the nerve to watch him leave-was Merlin watching the other boy's swaying backside as he disappeared through a throng of nearby servants standing on the sidelines, or was all of it just Arthur's imagination-before he settled back in his seat to watch the ends of Uther's speech. But Arthur didn't want to watch the speech. And he didn't want to pretend as if he had not just seen Merlin…flirting…with that servant boy!
"…You know, you really should not be thanking the servants like that." Arthur said, in a carefully contained and tight tone of voice, tapping his fingers slowly along the table directly in front of him. It was something to do with his hands so he wouldn't try to grab Merlin and remind him exactly who the consort belonged too. Arthur's heart nearly seized with the thought, but…it hadn't occurred to Arthur that Merlin might be willing to open his legs to literally anyone. Even to a dirty peasant. At least when Arthur had thought Merlin was trying to sleep his way through his knights, the prince could have convinced himself it was because Merlin was going to get something in return for his 'services'. Gold or trinkets he'd always refused from Arthur's hand. Or perhaps Merlin only got satisfaction out of knowing how absolutely batty it was driving the prince just thinking about it. But now the pool of people Merlin could've slept with was potentially far larger then Arthur thought it was, if he also had to imagine Merlin was sleeping with the male servants as well. Not only any of the male servants running around Camelot. But now Arthur had to keep a close eye on the foreign male servants racing all over Camelot this week. "He might get the wrong idea if you try acting so nice to him. And he's Mercian. So that right there is a good reason to send him on his way and not ever be bothered with him again. We can't have you going and getting involved with one of 'them' just in case it happens to effect the treaty in some way."
Arthur didn't see how Merlin fucking one of those Mercian's were going to effect the treaty, as long as it was kept closed with discretion. But Bayard still hadn't signed the treaty yet, as his father continued to drone on. So who knew what was going to happen in the next few minutes. Especially if Arthur was forced to watch that boy return and try luring his idiotic consort off to parts unknown just so they could go and get naked together. Arthur had plans, and he refused to execute them if Arthur stripped Merlin of his clothing only to find all of these other markings from somebody else clinging on his skin like they belonged there. It was best to nip this thing in the bud, if Merlin was even attempting to disappear for how ever long it took for two boys to become satisfied after they touched on the other.
"…By something happening to effect the treaty, I am going to take a guess here and say you don't want me to run off and try to get a date out of him for the night?" Merlin asked in an equally carefully contained voice. But he wasn't lifting his head to look at Arthur either, and Arthur rumbled low in his throat as he watched Merlin carefully pick his spoon up again. One or two measly little peas in the bowl of it, and it hardly seemed necessary to even bother eating it when the consort had so little on it to begin with. But the only thing Arthur wanted to do was smack the whole thing out of the consort's hand as he lifted the spoon up to his lips…did the boy really think 'now' was a good time for eating? As if the prince's pulse wasn't behaving like it was a drumbeat going off inside his eardrums. "You don't need to worry about me running off anytime soon. I do think you should know I don't date. But I also know that you will not believe me either. So why bother?"
And Arthur watched as Merlin pushed those measly peas in his mouth, his lips wrapping around the handle of the spoon before pulling it out, the end glistening with little bits of spit clinging onto it…Arthur had to wonder if that was really what Merlin looked like when he left his lips up to other activities he would probably find more pleasing. Did he often leave a trace amount of spit clinging onto whatever cock he would wrap his lips around? Did he suction his lips together to try making a tight seal for optimal pleasure? Or would he let his tongue do all the talking…and more importantly. Did Merlin have to keep referring to his whoring habits as 'dates'? As if Arthur didn't know very well that Merlin enjoyed spending all of his time on his knees for anybody but Arthur. Stupid boy could have at least 'tried' to get with Arthur like that before being shut down and taking that rejection as permission to find somebody else.
Merlin's hand looked to be shaking as he carefully set down his spoon so that it wouldn't cling and make a unnecessary noise interrupt his father's speech, which had to have been the first considerate thing Merlin had done all evening. But Arthur was getting impatient, his fingers rapping one after the other on the table just a little bit harder and faster then he had been before. He wanted to know rather or not Merlin was going to turn the serving boy down because he was not his type, or if there was another reason Merlin wasn't trying to throw himself down onto his knees right then and there to swallow the serving boy's cock down in front of every other person here. Merlin had no shame, and Arthur figured there had to be a bit of an exhibition kink in there somewhere if he was trying to play coy with Arthur now.
"…Don't be coy with me, Merlin. I saw the way you smiled at him. You think he's handsome, don't you? A manservant is handsome too you, honestly?"
Arthur's tone was sharp and accusing, daring Merlin to try and tell him he was wrong. And Merlin must've choked on air or perhaps one of those stupid peas had gone down the wrong pipe-which made Arthur want to stick his fingers into Merlin's throat and watch the boy choke around his fingers as he fished it out himself. Stupid boy, Arthur had known those peas were a bad idea-because he was choking and sputtered as if he was generally surprised by Arthur talking so brashly. No longer willing to pretend Merlin was innocent as the boy talked about 'dates' like something people twelve years old did when they first started getting crushes. There were some people starting to glance over again, and Uther talked just a bit louder as if he was trying to drown it out. He needed Morgana-eyebrows furrowed in concern for the little slut trying to get sympathy points out of somebody he had wholly convinced of his innocence-to put one of her hands on the crook of his elbow before he calmed down enough to wave her off.
But Arthur hardly cared about the little stunt the consort was putting on, clenching his fists hard enough together, he could feel his nails trying to pierce his skin. And the prince made his eyes pull away from Merlin so that he could scan across the crowd, until he caught sight of the manservant trying to get involved with people far above his station. The other boy was idly chatting with one of the other servants-excitement in his motions as he gestured towards the royal table-as he was switching out his wine pitcher for the water pitcher that sat on the side table by the door. Arthur was incensed with the sight…the manservant was probably doing something he knew was entirely inappropriate. Like 'bragging' about how confident he was about getting Merlin to himself after all the banquet business had been handled.
"Really, Arthur. Really? You are just going to come out and ask me…accuse me…of liking him just because I 'smiled' at him? Like a decent human being should when somebody is waiting on them?" Merlin immediately hissed underneath his breath the second he got his breathing under control, while turning sideways in his chair so his back was turned more to Morgana. But Arthur dragged his eyes away from the stupid manservant who thought he was going to be getting lucky with anything other then Arthur's sword, to face his consort again. And scowled at the boy…Merlin really needed to get out of his whole peasant mindset. The whole point of having servants was for them to do things they shouldn't have to do. Fetching drinks for people as important as them, should have been the only thanks necessary. And besides, people didn't just 'smile' at somebody because they were trying to be decent. People smiled because they wanted something you had. And in Merlin's case…that manservant wanted a try for Merlin's arse. "Are you absolutely, completely mad?"
But Arthur didn't feel as if he was crazy. No. He thought that he was being perfectly rational at the moment. He could've stood up the second he saw that manservant smiling with all the sweetness in the world at his consort. He could've made a huge scene, dishonoring the manservant and demanding Bayard punish him for dare trying to lure Merlin into his bed with the sweet wine he had been trying to give him. Hell, the boy probably had fantasies about drinking the wine himself and Merlin sucking the wine from his lips and into his own as they shared an intimate kiss…an ultimate drunken stupor made out of heat and the clumsy fingers they would have tugging at the other's clothes.
"Just how stupid do you think I am?" Arthur demanded, and he hissed at Merlin when he saw the boy about to answer…it had been a rhetorical question. He didn't bloody need to go hearing his consort telling him how stupid he was. Just like Merlin was stupid for wearing that outfit of his…it drew too much attention to the eye. It was probably what had made the manservant be bold enough to approach them both in the first place. Arthur blamed the stupid neckline and the stupid silver link of embroidery chains going across the top of the shirt. All that fresh skin was literally calling out to the horn dogs in the room to try their luck with him. "If you truly do not think he's handsome, then you would've told me 'no' when I asked you. You wouldn't have behaved as if you were a girl having some kind of scandalized fit over me asking a perfectly reasonable question. I deserve to know what my consort is bloody thinking about the men standing within my court."
Arthur saw Merlin blinking rapidly, as if he was trying-most likely failing-to understand what had Arthur so angry. Okay, Arthur admitted it…he had more demanded Merlin answer his question, rather then actually ask it. But that was hardly a point to mention because the question still stood, and the prince didn't know why it was so important but he 'needed' to know what traits the manservant had that drew Merlin to him. Surely there had to be something other then Merlin just finding the other boy easy, the way he'd been behaving like a cheap tart. Talking about the 'honor' of filling up Merlin's goblet. The boy might as well have dropped his pants to the ground and waved his arse in Merlin's face in invitation.
"…Alright. You want to know what I think? Then I will just tell you what I bloody think about him." Merlin said, a strangely determined expression steeling his features. It was a look he hadn't seen in a long time, and Arthur's stomach clenched in a sudden nervous anticipation when Merlin spun around in his seat so he could search the crowd for the manservant Arthur hated so badly. Arthur knew the exact second Merlin had found him, still standing at the table as he gathered up a few extra cloth napkins-probably something else the boy thought he could use to butter Merlin up-because Merlin stilled. Was it bad that Arthur was so intensely focused on Merlin that he noticed this? Probably. But Arthur found that he didn't care one bit…not with this anxiousness causing his stomach to tighten in an entirely unfamiliar way. Was this…it couldn't have been nerves, could it? But the longer the boy took with giving him an answer, the more certain Arthur was about it…he was definitely nervous. Nervous about what his consort would say about the manservant. Nervous to know what traits drew Merlin's eyes. Nervous to know why Merlin didn't see those same traits in Arthur… "Honestly? I think he is handsome enough to be a prince. But he's probably more on the pretty side. He's cute. Like a puppy."
Like a puppy.
Like a puppy.
He's cute.
Like a fucking puppy.
Arthur's jaw literally dropped when Merlin gave him a daring look, practically telling him with his eyes 'what're you gonna do about that.' And perhaps Arthur shouldn't be so angry at the moment, because a dog was a dog. Arthur knew hunting dogs and they could be quite vicious once they got paws on their prey. But a puppy was entirely different. A puppy would always be 'cute.' As in Merlin would always find this boy with his stupid fluffy hair 'cute.' And to even change the word the prince had used…to change 'handsome' to 'pretty'…that was probably even worse!
Handsome, Arthur could forgive, because it implied Merlin was only attracted to his looks. It meant he would probably only want five minutes with the guy before moving on with his life and never thinking about him again. But pretty…that implied something that was much softer. The kind of word someone used when they were being sweet on somebody. It was the kind of word somebody used when they wanted to see somebody for far longer then a single night. And to the prince…he might've asked for it, but it wasn't an acceptable answer to Arthur. If Merlin was a proper husband, he would have denied any interest instead of point blank showing the prince how his eyes wondered from man to man.
Fucking Whore…
Merlin had bloody well asked for this.
Merlin's bold and daring look disappeared in a heartbeat, his leg seizing up under the table as Arthur slapped his hand on Merlin's thigh. Perhaps a little higher then Arthur wanted to do, and borderline inappropriate. But Merlin's deer stuck in the firelight expression was totally worth it, as he squeezed that thin muscle spasming out of control beneath the heat of his hand. Trying to imprint his fingerprint's into Merlin's skin through his pants, just as Arthur had done to his face…a punishing and brutal grip that had Merlin squeezing into himself in an effort to escape from the hand on his thigh.
"…You little fucking minx." Arthur hissed under his breath as Merlin shied away from him. Which was fucking stupid. If it was so easy for Merlin to talk about finding servants were as 'cute' as 'princes'-Arthur was far more handsome then that guy would ever hope to be-then Merlin should feel perfectly comfortable with Arthur's hand grabbing his thigh with all of the strength of a steel cable. If Merlin could behave so bold, then Arthur could behave equally as bold, his fingers sliding their way between Merlin's clenched legs so he could grope at Merlin's inner thigh. It took more effort than he would've thought, with Merlin's legs clamped far tighter together then he would've expected. But the results was worth it, when he could rub his three middle fingers over a certain spot Arthur noticed caused Merlin to tremble beneath him…this was the spot…the perfect spot for Arthur to place the brand he had been thinking of earlier. Marking Merlin as his in a way that was not as easily taken off as Merlin's ring was. Arthur kept up the slow caress-Merlin's bug eyed stare looking down in his lap to watch horrified-in a gentle way. It could've almost imitated a lover, as Arthur protectively pressed his fingers to that one spot gracing high up Merlin's inner thigh. "You are going to regret that."
And Arthur let out a low and dark chuckle under his breath, watching in amusement as Merlin's whole body started to tremble more. And the prince dropped his gaze down onto Merlin's bare collarbones, once again noticing those links of silver chain's embroidering the top of the tunic. Yes…maybe Arthur should go ahead and invest in having another collar made for the boy. One inspired by those silver links. Arthur could already imagine the chain wrapped delicately around the column of Merlin's pale throat. Meant not as ownership like the golden collar being constructed was, but to make a beautiful sight of his consort for Arthur's viewing pleasure.
Yes…that was something Arthur was interested in.
And all the while, Arthur could feel only the heat of Merlin's thighs clenching around his hand. Trembling as Arthur kept his fingers over the spot that was destined to wear his mark brand.
Forever.
