A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

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

182. Chapter 184

This chapter is dedicated to Heilyx, who wanted drunk Merlin to say a few things about Arthur-to Arthur-when he's too drunk to realize who he's talking to. So I hope they enjoy how I portrayed it ;p

This chapter is also dedicated to brusnika5, who wanted Arthur to ask Merlin what he had liked about Lancelot. So I hope they enjoyed how I did it…

X

Arthur Pendragon couldn't say he knew what was going on in front of him right this minute. He also couldn't say he understood exactly what he was seeing. It would have made more sense if the scene was some kind of hallucination. Just a fucked up piece of his own imagination trying to come to life right in front of him. Only, it was a hallucination he was sure wasn't going to vanish if he dared to try touching it. Oh, sure. It definitely LOOKED like Merlin. The figure wearing the same dark clothing his consort had chosen for the night's events. And the consort still had the same long fingers that his consort had, curling around the edge of the bench he was sitting on as if it was helping keep him balanced. He still had the same, wild tufts of dark hair that curled around those overly large ears and did absolutely nothing to hide them. He still had the same white skin, pale and clear but now flushed a bright drunken red. His eyes were still a blue color that Arthur always had trouble deciding whether or not it's closer to the clear skies or to a calming river. But those eyes also looked all kinds of crazy at the moment, almost blown out, if Arthur had to describe them. The swirls of color now stuck around the black rims of the pupil that almost overtook all of the eye. But the most shocking, was the giant arse goofy grin Merlin had along his face.

It was ridiculous.

Merlin was smiling, more carefree and happily than Arthur had seen in…well. It was almost a sure thing that he had NEVER seen a grin that wide coming from Merlin. It seemed to take up his entire face, making his eyes crinkle slightly in the corners and doing something else to his face that Arthur couldn't exactly pinpoint. Whatever it was, it made Arthur's belly twist and turn, as if his kidney was trying to get into a fight with his spleen or something. Merlin's smile was a …thing of beauty. Something else entirely, that Arthur had never expected he'd see. Merlin didn't seem to take notice of him, rambling away happily to his new subjects (cough cough fans cough cough). Arthur didn't know exactly what he was saying, not with the way he kept stumbling and tripping over his words as he sped through them, his hands starting to wave around as if was completely incapable of standing still. It was absolutely fascinating, seeing the way Merlin worked when he wasn't on his guard. When he was just talking, telling stories to the people who were hanging onto his every word. Arthur himself would've been one of the admirers surrounding him, if he could only get his feet to take him the rest of the way. The spell that had befallen Arthur only broke after that consort of his said something new, throwing his hands out so suddenly that it made him loose balance and he almost fell off the bench completely with all of his drunken stupor.

Arthur's teeth clinched together as he stepped forward urgently to stop him from getting hurt. The fall from the bench to the floor wasn't something that would kill Merlin. Hell, if he was as drunk as Arthur feared, he was pretty sure Merlin would bounce right back up as if he hadn't felt a thing. But there was just something about Merlin hitting the ground at all, that made Arthur want to rip up the stone floors as if they were somehow to blame for Merlin being as incapacitated as he was. But Arthur was saved from having to decide whether or not it was a good idea to grab onto Merlin before he could face plant on the floor and bust open his nose and shed his precious lifeblood (wasn't allowed to touch, wasn't allowed to touch, wasn't allowed to touch, had to keep that in mind), when somebody else did the deed for him.

Lancelot.

Lancelot swooped in like some kind of guardian, as if he was already preparing for when Merlin would fall over. Or perhaps Merlin had already fallen like this before, and Lancelot had gotten adapt at keeping him steady. Because that is exactly what Lancelot did. He grabbed onto a fistful of cloth covering Merlin's shoulder, and wrapped an arm around his waist, dragging Merlin back in place on the bench, the boy bumping sturdily into his chest. Merlin didn't behave as if he even noticed Lancelot had saved him from a painful and embarrassing fall in front of his people. The consort only tilted his head back and laughed, some kind of carefree bubble of laughter bursting from his throat, the kind of laugh that practically screamed how happy Merlin was. It had to be the drink, clearly, making Merlin forget all his problems, perhaps even pushing them beneath the surface of his mind until his problems was nothing left but a shadow he hardly knew was there. Arthur was surprised, if he had thought Merlin smiling was a thing to be noted, it had absolutely nothing on his laughter.

Arthur almost felt as if he had sunken into a warm bath, the warmth soaking in his bones until it nearly swallowed him whole.

Arthur didn't even care that Lancelot was still holding onto Merlin, or that his consort was playfully swatting at Lancelot's arm as if the knight had actually said something funny, even though Lancelot hadn't spoken at all. This was the usual moment in which Arthur would've gone batshit crazy. He would've been pissed at Lancelot for holding onto Merlin. Pissed that Merlin was flaunting his lover in Arthur's face, showing off his lover before the servants of the court as if he had no shame. But Arthur didn't need to feel that way anymore. He didn't need to be pissed at Merlin's impudence. Because Merlin wasn't actually being impudent! And Lancelot wasn't actually sleeping with Merlin! Merlin was only having himself a swell old time, and Lancelot was simply making sure the boy didn't get into more trouble than he should. Keeping a steady eye on Arthur's consort while Arthur had been throwing himself a pity party in the hall.

"Alright Merlin, I think that you've had enough fun for one night. Perhaps even enough fun to last an entire year at the rate you've been going. But why don't you come with me now, and we'll get you someplace you can rest for the night. I'm sure your bed is probably looking pretty good right about now." Spoke the new knight in his ever calm voice, using the arm wrapped around the consorts waist to help gentle ease him up to his feet. Merlin wobbled for a second there before regaining his footing, but he was in no danger of falling back down with the way Lancelot held onto him with the gentle patience that Arthur seemed to always lack. "Now, why don't you say goodnight to all your new friends. You're not going to be seeing them until after you've had a night to rest up and get a more clear mind. Unless you wish for them to see you like this."

Lancelot was looking a little drunk himself, a teasing smirk spreading across his face as if he knew Merlin would never want somebody to see him in such a state, but he looked far better off than Merlin did. Who stumbled through such an odd goodbye, that Arthur was surprised anybody understood a single word of it, as the servants stepped aside to let them by. Arthur honestly would have been jealous by this point…here Lancelot was, with his consort leaning his tiny bit of weight against him, and Lancelot talking about getting Merlin back in his warm bed. To be honest, maybe Arthur was feeling a little jealous, but it felt as if it was a reflex. Arthur was used to being jealous. Used to see Merlin being a certain way with him, and then being a certain way with others. It shouldn't be Lancelot carrying Merlin's drunken arse away from the vultures that circled all around him. And it shouldn't be Lancelot who tucked Merlin away in his bed so he was safe and sound, where no harm would befall him. But that was also an emotion that Arthur needed to stomp down. An emotion that Arthur needed to squash and learn to ignore…because he knew now that Lancelot wasn't going to try anything funny. He knew now that Lancelot wasn't going to try and take advantage of Merlin in the state he was in, to do things the boy otherwise was not going to want. Another thing for him to remember…Lancelot liked Gwen. It was women that he liked. And it was Merlin that he kept an eye on.

His jealousy was further rended useless when he saw Merlin smiling at him.

Arthur stopped, and he blinked, and he blinked again just to make sure that he wasn't seeing things. But no. It was right there in front of his bloody face. His consort…Merlin…he really was smiling at him. Now that Lancelot had taken his consort out of the circle of servants, Merlin got a clear view of Arthur standing right behind them. And his heart leaped in his throat, his hands growing heavy and sweaty by his sides…it was so stupid of him to have hope even after all the ways Merlin had made himself perfectly clear. But Merlin was actually smiling at him, and that had to mean something, right?! Merlin didn't just walk around smiling at the people he hated. Merlin didn't go around pretending he liked a person when he didn't. Merlin didn't….Arthur opened his mouth to try saying something even though he didn't have a clue what he wanted to say. He simply wanted to know what about Arthur had put the consort in a suddenly awesome mood. But before he could, Merlin was already beating him to the punch.

"LANCELOT!"

Arthur had been slowly starting to smile, his lips twitching upwards as Merlin's entire attitude almost seemed to be contagious. But the other man's name had thrown him off, and Arthur's growing smile became a bit more fixated along his lips…what? Why was he…why had Merlin called him Lancelot? Didn't he already know that Lancelot was the one holding him? Didn't he recognize the prince in front of him? It's not as if he and Lancelot even looked remotely alike! He was all blond hair and blue eyes and tan skin. And Lancelot was all dark hair, dark eyes, with an olive skin tone. The two of them could've have looked even more different if they've been actively trying. So why…Arthur's stomach twisted with concern filling him once again…why had Merlin not recognized him? Maybe all this was what Morgana and Gwen had been talking about…they had known the consort wouldn't recognize him! But why…why…why…why…Arthur had to press down the insane urge to race to Merlin's side. To cup his face in his hands and try to find, with his limited skills, if Merlin had gotten hit somewhere along his head. Maybe Lancelot had failed to catch him at one point and Merlin was now suffering from some kind of brain deformation. But Knight Lancelot didn't look as if he was the least bit concerned. Shaking his head with more exasperation coming from him.

"No, Merlin. That's not me standing there. That's Arthur. Remember? The fella you hit over the head earlier? Just remember that much, alright? Just like you have to remember I'm not Gaius. And Gwen isn't your mother. And Morgana is not your old friend Will. None of those people are here with you today. It's just me, okay. Lancelot." The knight was completely calm, running a hand down the length of his consort's spine in a soothing manner when Merlin looked up with big, wide eyes. Almost like a baby deer who was still stumbling around with its new legs, unable to tell the difference between the grass beneath its feet and the mother trying to guide it. Lancelot shook his head and turned back to the prince to offer Arthur an explanation, "Don't worry about it, Arthur. Merlin has had a bit too much to drink. Probably more than he should've. I'm really happy that he can still walk, actually. He's been getting names confused for at least an hour now. It seems everyone he knows is suddenly somebody else inside of his mind. He talked to this serving girl, Mary, forever. And he kept calling her Gwen. So don't be too offended. He probably won't even recognize Gaius after I get him back."

Arthur blinked a few times, eyeing Merlin's goofy grin…he didn't seem to know they were talking about him. Happy and content to be in his head, living his life in whatever world he was seeing around him that the other two wasn't going to be privy too. Arthur clenched his jaw a little, the sourness filled his belly where his hope had been moments before. Arthur would be the first to say he'd never gotten so drunk, he didn't recognize the people around him. It wasn't safe for a Prince of his caliber to let loose like that unless he explicitly trusted the ones around him to keep an eye on him. And Arthur definitely didn't have that level of trust, not even for the knights he'd known all his life. Especially, for the men he had known all his life. But this made sense. Of course Merlin would only be happy to see Arthur, when he didn't know he was actually seeing Arthur. That boy of his thought he was seeing LANCELOT. Thought he was smiling with the other knight. Talking to the other knight. Leaning towards Arthur only because he trusted Lancelot! On some deep level that Arthur himself would never have the chance to breech. His own fault, yes. But it didn't alleviate his sorrow.

"C'mon now, Merlin. I'm sure you've had a long and tiring day, and you'll need to be well rested for whatever tomorrow is going to bring you. The hangover I bet you're going to get is probably going to be killer. So it's best you sleep for as long as you can before it hits you." Lancelot said, calmly starting to guide Merlin around Arthur towards the doors. Merlin stumbled over his feet, but the grip Lancelot had around his waist never wavered, and he only pulled Merlin all that closer to keep him steady. Arthur frowned, watching them go…he was not entirely sure what to do with himself. This was the exact thing that he feared the first time he realized Merlin was drunk. That Merlin would be too out of it if something happened and couldn't protect himself proper. Arthur was meant to keep him safe if that was the case. But it looked as if Lancelot had already got a handle of the situation. It made Arthur useless, unnecessary, and having no real reason for being here if Merlin was already being looked after. "I'm almost positive that you want to climb into your bed, don't you Merlin? Wrap yourself in your sheets, they'll probably feel like a cloud to you in this state, would they not? Maybe your bed will feel like a boat, rocking you to sleep once you climb into it. Doesn't that sound nice? It does to me."

Lancelot looked as if he was fighting back a yawn, clearly tired himself, even as he pushed Merlin forward. Coaxing him into moving his feet, planting the idea of heaven in the form of his bed in his mind. Giving Merlin something to look forward too, and a reason to keep moving forward so he wouldn't plop himself down on the floor on his butt and decide to stay there all night instead. But Lancelot's coaxing tone suddenly seemed to have the opposite effect, the consort planting himself where he stood, refusing to move unless the knight decided the easiest way to get him home was to throw him over his shoulder and carry him there. But Merlin was frowning, a little wetness forming inside his eyes as if he was about to burst out crying. Arthur did a half aborted step towards him, being stopping completely. What was Arthur going to do? Take Merlin into his room and rock him some, maybe wipe away the tears before he could shed them? Merlin wouldn't have liked that, not if he knew it was Arthur doing it. And it would involve touching Merlin…but damn it! Why did the other boy suddenly look as if somebody had told him his puppy had died? What did Lancelot say that made Merlin look as if his heart had been taken straight out of his chest! And would Merlin be alright if Arthur snatched up the first knife he came across and carved Lancelot's chest open for making Merlin cry! That knight was supposed to be Merlin's friend! What kind of friend made another friend cry? What kind of husband made…

"I don't want to go to that stupid room! I absolutely hate it! It's an ugly room so I don't even know why it belongs to me! It's way too big, I can hardly breathe in it because of how big it is! I can fit my entire hut back home in that room, don't you know! The bed is much too big for just one person! I feel like I will drown if I sleep in that thing! Can't even stretch my arms and touch the ends of it! Who needs a bed that size!" Merlin ranted, his speech slurred but not so slurred the two men couldn't understand what he was saying. Merlin had thrown his arms out, unbalancing himself if Lancelot hadn't held onto his waist. And the smaller boy even stomped his foot, like some kind of demented toddler. It would have been cute, seeing Merlin acting so differently from his usual self, if this didn't cause both Lancelot and Arthur concern. The two knights shared this strange look over Merlin's head, and Arthur's brows creased together. Merlin loved his bed chambers! He enjoyed being in there, had fought the prince took and nail to be allowed to stay there. So why, all of a sudden, was he singing a different tune? And what was he talking about…too big? Arthur had been in that room, it was the size of a broom cupboard, as far as he was concerned. Arthur hated it, but Merlin wanted it, so Arthur had indulged him on that one matter. "And you don't even want to get me started on my neighbors! I mean, Arthur sleeps just next door! How the hell do you expect me to sleep when I've got him only one door away! And it's really just one door! They've got a bloody door inside the room that connects to his! Tell me, how can I sleep when Arthur can walk into my room any time he wants to?"

Ooooh….Arthur's heart dropped straight down to his feet when he realized just what the consort was talking about. Lancelot didn't seem to get it, of course it wasn't something he would get. Lancelot hadn't been here during their third or so month of marriage. He hadn't been around to find Merlin had moved out the royal suites without Arthur's permission. He hadn't been around whenever the prince finally found Merlin sequestered away in his uncle's chambers, already moved in as if he planned to stay there for a while. He hadn't been around to see Arthur insisting Merlin move back into his chambers where he belonged, before ultimately being talked into letting Merlin stay with Gaius because of his 'frail mental healthy.' He hadn't been around when Merlin and him made a deal…keeping where he was staying a secret from those who didn't need to be in the know. Lancelot probably wasn't somebody to worry about, nor was the prince worried about Gwen or Morgana. But his father finding out…that's the one thing that kept all of them on their toes. And now, here Merlin was…was it possible that his mind was so muddled that he forgot he had already moved out? No wonder he was so resistant to Lancelot taking him anywhere if he was thinking he was being taken to the Royal suites.

Lancelot was trying to talk Merlin into coming with him, the calmness he spoke with never giving away to frustration, though Arthur figured it had to be a huge struggle not to give into it. Merlin was stubborn, even in his drunken state, and he kept shaking his head no, crossing his arms over his chest and pursing out his lower lip like a petulant child. Arthur watched the scene playing out in front of him, heart feeling heavier and heavier the more Merlin protested. The guilt in his chest wanted to eat him up entirely, it wanted to swallow him whole until there was nothing left of him, made him feel as if his own heart was trying its hardest rip its way out of his chest. Was that why Merlin had moved out of his rooms without a word? Because he was scared to death of Arthur barging right in on him? Scared to death that Arthur would…come in at any hour of the day or night and torment him just as he did whenever they saw each other. Scared to death that Arthur would use that door as his own personal gateway to giving Merlin hell. Arthur couldn't even get through that door! He had placed his key stand right in front of it years ago to make use of the space before he actually had somebody occupying the next room, and the thing was too heavy for even Arthur to move on his own. It was all but bolted down to the floor with its own weight. Fuck…had Merlin slept at all during those two months he had stayed in that room? Did he rest, or did he stay on his guard the entire time, waiting for the night in which that door would creep open like a silent warning of what was to come. He tried to remember if Merlin had looked tired back then, but…he'd been so dismissive and angry with Merlin back then, he didn't think he would have noticed if he was.

Lancelot still wasn't making any headway with Merlin, as the boy had started to frantically shake his head back and forth. And Arthur swallowed hard…it was always discontenting to see how Merlin reacted whenever Arthur got closer in proximity. But he had to do something about this. Merlin deserved a nice place to sleep. Somewhere he felt safe. Where he didn't have to fear Arthur throwing open that door and doing whatever nefarious thoughts he'd been having with the boy in mind on his one bed. Even now, Arthur's stomach churned…Merlin's innocence was in the forefront of his mind. How scared and confused he'd be if Arthur had given into his sinful temptations…he had to make it up to Merlin. Had to regain the boy's feeling of safety, earn his forgiveness for allowing even one sinful thought past his mind, even if Merlin never knew what he was trying to do. It would be just enough for Arthur to know. For Arthur to push down the 'wrong' thoughts that had been threaded throughout his mind practically since the day he'd met the boy.

"…Merlin." Arthur spoke up, clearly his throat roughly, and he was regretting it already when both Merlin and Lancelot turned towards him. Lancelot had lifted an eyebrow, clearly having not expected Arthur to try anything, Arthur almost felt indignant. Merlin was his consort! Of course he wasn't just going to walk off when Merlin was being all sad. And sad he was, his consort sniffling a little as if he was being punished by staying in the nice room that had been set up for him before his arrival. But Merlin didn't have to worry about that. The blond would burn down the entire room if Merlin hated it that much, maybe add just a few walls to the interior so that it would feel smaller if that was what Merlin wanted. But no matter, the prince thought as he forced a smile that felt way too awkward across his face, Merlin wasn't going to be staying there. Arthur would make sure Merlin got to where he wanted, whether or not he knew that it was where he wanted. "I know that you don't trust me, and wouldn't follow me even if it saved your life. But I can promise you, you won't have to step in the Royal suites if you don't want to. If you come with me, I can take you to a much better place. Where your family is waiting for your safe return."

Gaius was probably going to throw a fit the second he saw his inebriated little nephew stumbling through their front door so late at night. And he was likely going to blame Merlin's state on Arthur, especially if Arthur was there bringing him back. But he was already on Gaius' bad side. One more infraction was not going to much change matters. But his concern was for Merlin. There's plenty that could still happen on the way to his quarters. Merlin could stumble, falling down a set of stairs and smash his head to bits if either him or Lancelot wasn't watching close enough. Merlin could wonder into one of the knights roaming the castle, and not one of the friendly ones. Merlin could…come across some kind of snake and be poisoned by its venom, passing out in the middle of the courtyard where nobody could help him until it was too late. Unlikely as those sceneries were, Arthur still feared each one as a possibility. Just as he feared the crystal clear liquid clinging onto Merlin's lower eyelashes, making the small strands of hair look darker against the blue of his eyes. Merlin was biting down on his bottom pink lip, but Arthur didn't allow his eyes to wonder down to them this time. He kept his gaze firmly on Merlin's eyes, refusing to give into the sin that always taunted him, and waited for him to make the first move.

"…You promise?"

Arthur was almost startled by the soft tone Merlin spoke in, the vulnerability in those eyes that said he was putting his trust into whatever the prince's answer was going to be. A drunken mistake, Merlin was making, but was putting trust in Arthur more stupid than say…waking up to find you've lost your virginity in a one night stand you couldn't remember. Arthur would say no, but Merlin is the one whose answer mattered the most. And the way Merlin was looking towards him right now…the way it looked as if Merlin would follow him (follow Lancelot) no matter where they went…it made Arthur's heart clench up tight. Fuck. All of the things this boy did to him. The way he drove Arthur to the brink of insanity while simultaneously making Arthur want to wrap him up in the biggest blanket he could find and keep him safe and protected from all the dangers the world posed to him. Arthur would do it too. If he didn't already know that the consort would throw a gasket the second he was back to normal.

"I promise, Merlin. You're not going to have anything to fear, as long as you are with me. You're going to remain safe, and warm, and won't have any problems once we get to where we are going. In fact, I'm sure that you'll find it the…best place you can be." Arthur said softly, his voice going intimate, something that was just between him and Merlin, even as Lancelot continued looking between the two of them. As if he wasn't sure if he should allow Arthur to keep talking to Merlin, or if he should keep quiet since Merlin was actually responding with the prince better than he'd been with Lancelot. But promises were something Arthur had always been trying to give Merlin…promises that said Arthur would do better. Promises that said Merlin was going to be happy. Promises that said Merlin would never have to spend another day living in fear while he was living in his castle. All promises that Merlin had scoffed at and scorned without even a second thought. Call it taking advantage, but if this was the only time Merlin would consider accepting Arthur's promise, then…he was going to take it. As it wouldn't be long, only the night, before Merlin wised back up. "All I'm asking is for you to trust me to get you there. Do you trust me? Trust me to walk you all the way there? Trust me to make sure that…nasty old Arthur won't disturb you while you are sleeping?"

Arthur's voice cracked somewhere over his own name, and he was sure Merlin must've heard it too. But the consort didn't give any indication that he realized there was something amiss. He simply stared at Arthur, for the longest time…it was strange. And Arthur almost instantly wanted to recoil back, wanting to try and shield himself from Merlin analyzing him. If he hadn't known the other was drunk, Arthur would've said he wasn't. Not with the way Merlin was staring him down, as if he was trying to determine for himself whether or not Arthur could be considered trustworthy. Sober, Merlin would've instantly said no. But drunk Merlin clearly needed another minute to think about it. And despite his instinct to hide himself, Arthur held strong. Allowing Merlin to have his look. To get his fill of Arthur while he was still conscious enough to do so. If Merlin wanted this look at Arthur, if he wanted to stare into Arthur's very soul to figure out exactly what kinda man Arthur was, then…Arthur would've cut his soul out himself and placed it in Merlin's hands to hold if he could. Arthur didn't know what kind of man his soul would show, but…Merlin was the one forced to deal with him. He deserved to see the wickedness Arthur could feel buried deep in his heart.

"Of course I trust you, Lancelot!"

Merlin had the biggest and widest and dopiest of grins stretched out across his face, as if he couldn't even contemplate the idea of not handing over every ounce of trust he had to the man in front of him. To…not Arthur, but Lancelot…it made Arthur go stiff. Of course he had known. Of course he had known that Merlin was as drunk as a fox, and could very well be seeing all manner of color bouncing off the walls as if they were sentient beings for all Arthur knew. But it was somehow very different hearing Merlin calling him by that name. Hearing the earnest way Merlin had spoken it. As if Arthur-Lancelot-should've already known Merlin wasn't planning on going anywhere without him. But still…it had been nice to dream. To dream for even a single second, that Merlin would have been placing his trust in Arthur's hands. His fragile little trust, like a bird with a broken wing, being handed over to willingly to somebody as tainted as Arthur was.

It was going to be a very long night, Arthur knew, as he trailed behind Lancelot helping a now more mobile Merlin from the room.

X

As Arthur Pendragon had expected, Gaius didn't look terribly amused when the three boys came stumbling through his front door so late at night, making far more ruckus than they probably should have. Startling the elderly man that had been sitting at one of his benches, bent over an incredibly heavy tome and reading it by candlelight. But to Arthur's defense, it was pretty hard just sitting back and watching as Lancelot forced an incredibly uncoordinated Merlin into the room. Somehow, Merlin seemed to have gotten even more drunk during his walk, as if the blood pulsing through his veins was adding to the potency of all the alcohol in his veins. In fact, Merlin hadn't been able to stop giggling a good two staircases ago. Acting like a hyperactive five year old that forced Lancelot to stop every couple of seconds to catch Merlin's hand before he could touch a pair of decorative swords hung on the wall. Or knock over a particular vase he was so keen on touching. Or from ripping down a tapestry with a dragon on it that, for some reason, Merlin seemed to really hate. Something about…some knowledgeable dragons giving him headaches? Arthur didn't really understand what Merlin had been fussing about. But at least he and Lancelot were both on the same field, considering he seemed just as lost as Arthur did when the boy had started cussing at it like it was the real thing.

Definitely a side of Merlin he'd yet to see.

And one Gaius had clearly not see either.

"What on earth have you two done to my nephew! It looks as if you just stood there and watched him down an entire barrel of mead all his own! You two are lucky he didn't get poisoning in his blood from how much of this stuff is in his system right now!" Gaius had been fussing at the two of them for several long minutes, as if Merlin wasn't being held up sorely by Lancelot at this point. Just giggling up a storm, as if Gaius' thunderous face was something to be amused by. Arthur was too scared to even bother mentioning he hadn't been there and so Merlin's drunkenness was hardly his fault. Hell, Arthur was almost jealous of his consort, for being in his blissed out fantasy land and not seeing how much trouble they were in. "I would've thought, as the older ones, SOMEBODY would have thought to stop the boy who hasn't drunk more than a sip of wine here or there before, from drinking himself sick! He'll be lucky if he's not spending the next morning throwing up what little he has in his stomach!"

Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had been punished like this, yelled at for doing something so stupidly idiotic. But he felt his shoulders coming up to his ears, shame filling him and only growing each time another drunken little giggle came from Merlin. Maybe he hadn't known Merlin was going to drink as much as he had. But he had known Merlin wanted a drink! That should've been his warning sign to follow the boy around, just to make sure he didn't overstep like he clearly had. But he hadn't. And now Merlin…Merlin might be sick! And it was his fault for not curbing Merlin's need to get drunk when he had a chance to do it. And okay, maybe it was perfectly natural to get sick once you've had a binge drinking marathon. Waking up with hangovers and throwing up was part of the norm on that front. But Merlin doing it…when Merlin already had trouble with his food…it tore something apart inside of Arthur. Merlin had been eating at the party! He had seen him eating! And now, now he was going to throw all of it up come morning. He was going to lose the food he had consumed, and Merlin was going to get smaller by the house, and Arthur wanted to kill himself for this step backwards! Merlin's frame was so skinny already, Arthur honestly felt like he saw Merlin shrinking in front of his very eyes after inevitable losing this one meal.

"Why is Uther so mad at me?"

Merlin said this in a very inconspicuous whisper that wasn't much of a whisper at all, leaning against Lancelot and cupping his hand around his mouth as if he thought it would muffle what he was asking. Gaius arched an eyebrow up high on his forehead, so high that it almost disappeared completely into his hairline. This felt like a very good moment for Arthur to slap a palm against his face due to how ridiculous this was. It wasn't all that hard to keep up with, but the leaps Merlin was making with his addled mind was baffling! As far as Arthur was able to pick up, Lancelot had been deemed Gaius. And Gaius had been deemed his father. And Gwen had been coined as Merlin's mother…did Gwen resemble his mother somewhat, and that was why he chose her? Or was it more personality wise…and then there was Morgana who had been deemed as some guy named 'Will.' Somebody from Merlin's home village, he assumed, but who the hell that guy actually was, was a mystery to Arthur. And Arthur himself, was now known as Lancelot. God, the twists and turns Merlin's mind must be overtaking during all this name jumping.

"Err…don't worry about it, Gaius. Merlin seems to be getting his names mixed up. Nothing that won't be fixed by the time the alcohol gets through the rest of his body. But if it helps, you being named Uther isn't exactly the weirdest one of the night." Lancelot said, flashing Arthur an indescribable look. Arthur gave him a scowl, not knowing why he did. He just hadn't liked the way the man had been looking at him. Was it really so weird that Merlin thought he could be like Lancelot? That Merlin, who hasn't noticed the friction in the room and had now started this rocking back and forth motion on the heels of his feet humming a little tune under his breath, could decide Arthur was as good and as kind as he clearly thought Lancelot was. Personally, Arthur thought Morgana's had been the weirdest one, being mistaken as a boy had to be the first for her. "But the hour is late, so with your permission, I would like to get Merlin into bed and let him sleep this off. There's no point in him getting in trouble when he's not in a state of mind to realize he is."

And wasn't that the truth, as Merlin didn't acknowledge himself being the main focus of the conversation. Staring off into space with his dilated blue eyes, the sights in which he saw not clear to any of them. Arthur clenched his jaw a little bit…he really didn't want to give Lancelot permission to get Merlin to bed. Sure he could admit with confidence that Lancelot wasn't going to try anything with Merlin, but there was still something upsetting about Lancelot being allowed in Merlin's private space. Someplace Arthur himself wasn't even allowed to enter these days. But when Arthur opened his mouth to explain his reservations with the matter, Gaius had already nodded his head and stepped aside so the stairs were open. Arthur clinked his mouth shut with a clink of teeth, realizing that it wasn't his permission being asked. This wasn't his home. This home belonged to Gaius. And Merlin wasn't his husband…not as far as Gaius was concerned…

Arthur was only an interloper. An unwanted one. Forced to watch as Lancelot took hold of the crook of Merlin's elbow and started leading him to the stairs…

And Lancelot stumbled over the step, nearly taking Merlin down with him.

Arthur's heart leaped into his throat, taking half a step forward before he was able to stop himself. He suddenly had a new concern that he hadn't thought of before…Lancelot was drunk as well. Not nearly as drunk as Merlin, but he was still drunk enough that it made him wobbly on his own feet. Arthur wouldn't be trusting Lancelot to carry a mutt up those stairs right now. And especially not his consort. His fragile consort, that could break his bones if Lancelot tried to help him up the stairs only to drop him before they made it. Merlin could have bounced straight down those steps and hit the ground with a loud thud before any of them realized what happened. Merlin could be unconscious, or he could be dead, or if he be sitting at the bottom and crying pitifully because he felt as if he had been abandoned. Or whatever else his drunk mind would conjure for him.

"Oh no, Gaius! I can't go up those stairs with you! How are you supposed to hold me up when I'm going up them! No, no, no, no! You're old and fragile and I might break your back or something. Who's going to be my uncle if I end up killing you under my weight!" Merlin exclaimed before Arthur could stop what madness had been unfolding in front of him, pulling himself free from the other knight, continuing with this whole 'Lancelot is Gaius' mindset he seemed to be having. The real Gaius wasn't looking nearly as amused, catching onto what's going on faster than Arthur would have. He didn't seem too happy to be seen as 'frail', and it wasn't as if Merlin weighed enough where breaking someone's back was a real concern. Hell, Merlin probably weighed less than a bag full of potato's. And okay, Arthur's never carried that before. But he HAS carried over a large buck on his shoulders before, and Merlin definitely weighed less than a full grown buck did! "Oooh, I know! Why don't we just get Lancelot to carry me up there! I don't want to hurt myself! And Lancelot's all big and strong and not frail. And he's my bestest friend ever! I'm sure he'll be happy to help me! And I know I can trust him to take care of me just like a bestest friend should!"

Arthur felt a spike in his chest…there was just so much unadulterated trust in Merlin's voice, practically leaking out into the air. He…he shouldn't continue to feel this way. Things were…not perfect between him and Lancelot. But things should at least be better between them, now that he knew Lancelot had never seen his consort in any fit state of undress. Even if he was Merlin's…bestest of friends. Which Arthur had thought was Gwen, or maybe it was that Will guy he had never heard about before. Arthur didn't know. He just knew he should've disappeared into the woodwork. Not be here. If Merlin wanted Lancelot to help him to his bed, then who was Arthur to deny him, even if it did cause Merlin to injure himself. He didn't have a right to stop him from doing something that is utterly foolish. He didn't…Gaius cleared his throat loudly, bringing the prince's attention back onto him. The aged physician was looking a bit put out, but just before Arthur could question why he was looking at him, Arthur suddenly had a face full of Merlin.

"Well, will you do it Lancelot? Will you take me upstairs? I'm soooo sleepy!"

Merlin's seemed to have regressed into his childhood, the tone he using was so high-pitched and innocent, it almost stunned Arthur. But it didn't stun the prince more than when Merlin flung his arms around his shoulders with an over eager hug. Arthur's eyes almost popped out of his head from how wide they'd gone, his hands catching onto Merlin's bony little hips to catch him before the boy knocked them both over. It felt as if Arthur's lungs had frozen inside of his chest, the scent of Merlin filling his nostrils from the tufts of dark hair coming out of Merlin's head. Merlin had somehow bent himself down so that his head was buried against the prince's broader chest, meowing almost like a cat…as if he enjoyed being held by Arthur.

Being held…

Being held…

Being held…

Arthur didn't know what he was supposed to touch, didn't know what he was supposed to do, didn't know how he could even breathe for fear of dislodging Merlin from his position. But he did know it felt…blazing. Like hot flashes going across his body every where Merlin was touching him. His arms wrapped along Arthur's next sent hot shivers down his spine. His head buried inside Arthur's chest like a cherub, only made Arthur want to wrap himself more securely over the boy. His hands on Merlin's hips, feeling their slight curve in a way he'd not been able to before. It was…it was…it was marvelous. Arthur could have stood there for hours, doing nothing but breathing in the storm that was Merlin. As if Merlin carried the scent a storm made in the air just before it struck land. This was warmth and protection, and Arthur being charged with Merlin. Pulling him closer would've been ideal, knowing this was probably never going to actually happen again once Merlin was sober. But the fear held him still. A single move could send Merlin into a fury. And with Merlin in a fury…he couldn't try burying his face into Merlin's hair…

"Um…I think you heard him, Arthur. You might want to bring him upstairs. Else he'll fall asleep on you, and I'm sure you have other things to do than standing around being somebody's pillow."

Arthur looked up, startled, his hands squeezing Merlin's little hipbones before he could stop himself. Merlin wiggled a bit at the touch, his back arching just a little as he pushed his head further into Arthur's chest before thankfully, going still. With a contented little sigh that almost had Arthur reeling. Arthur's round eyes met with Lancelot's, who gestured towards the stairs, looking like he was expecting Arthur to do the deed. And Arthur…his eyes fell onto the rickety old steps, his heart plummeting. Those stairs were nothing. But they were looking daunting now. There were only twenty or so steps leading up to the consort's room. And yet, Arthur felt as if it was miles. Miles and miles of stairs, and the consort would be clinging onto him the entire time. Arthur could do it, Merlin was a slight little thing. But could he do it with Merlin next to him, wiggling his body as if he didn't know how to be still the entire time. Breathing against the prince's next as they hadn't been enemies for so long. Pressing together until there was absolutely no space between them…Arthur shouldn't agree with any of this. Merlin wouldn't like it. Merlin wouldn't want it. He would throw a huge gasket if he knew Arthur was seriously contemplating this…

"Please, Lancelot. I'm…I'm…I'm sleepy. Carry me."

Merlin's sweet little breaths, signs of the living flesh and blood boy in his arms, hit the side of his neck, and the pulse point there almost skyrocketed. His little consort was calling out for Lancelot, but Merlin was holding onto HIM. And his little consort wanted Arthur to carry him…trusted him not to just guide him up the stairs but to get him there without dropping him. Arthur's heart rate felt as if it was trying to beat its way out of his chest as he glanced between Lancelot and Gaius, neither entirely sure what to do about Merlin's clinging. His consort would need a crowbar taken to his arms to get him to let go, but since neither of the two men looked as if they were going to be stopping him…Arthur's really going to do this. He was really going too…to carry Merlin. Because his consort was sleepy, and Arthur wouldn't mind being made into a pillow as Lancelot was thinking he would, but Merlin would be more comfortable in a bed. Wrapped in the sheets Arthur would toss on top of him. Cuddled into a pillow that his little consort would think was a poor substitute for Arthur's chest…

Fuck.

Before Arthur could convince himself how INSANE this was, he pushed Merlin away from him. The little whine of discontent escaping Merlin's drunk lips was enough to make even a grown man like Arthur cripple…Merlin should not EVER sound as if he had just been rejected. But before anybody could get onto his case about this, Arthur was bending over at the waist. Grabbing onto one of his consort's arms; and tugging him forward. The little light tug was enough to send Merlin falling forward over his clumsy legs. And Merlin yelped as Arthur fitted him over his shoulder, standing back to his feet with relative ease. Merlin had his waist pressed over Arthur's shoulder, it was this comforting weight he hadn't been expecting. Something warm and soft and sweet, even when Merlin practically had his bottom pressed against Arthur's face.

"I'll just…I'll just bring him upstairs and get him settled in bed. So he doesn't brain himself on the headboard or something trying to climb into the thing for himself." Arthur stuttered, under LancelotMs watchful gaze and Gaius' stern look. The older physician was practically daring Arthur to try and do anything harmful to his nephew. And it only made Arthur's teeth clench tightly with this renewed sense of determination. There wasn't a lot Arthur was good at when it came to his consort. But how hard could it be to get Merlin laid down? Sure, it was…intimate. Being so close to where Merlin let his guard down and laid his head down each and every night. Perhaps even a little too intimate, and more than Arthur was ready for. But…he could do this without screwing up. "I'll be down in a few minutes, okay? And then we can all get ready for bed. I mean…I can get ready for bed…in my own room! I can get ready for bed back inside of my own room without Merlin there."

Arthur fumbled like some kind of inebriated fool, even though he hadn't drunk more than a single goblet, which wasn't even a fraction compared to the mess Merlin had drunken. His face was almost growing ember as he hurried past the knight and the physician with Merlin in tow, his arm braced firmly on the back of Merlin's legs so he wouldn't fall off, cursing himself under his breath due to how stupid he had sounded. He had simply been telling Gaius he didn't need to worry about anything strange happening because Arthur would be down in a few minutes. And he had somehow, instead, made it sound as if he had not been planning on leaving. Made it sound as if he was about to strip his clothes off in Merlin's room, stand over Merlin's bed in nothing but his undergarments, before climbing in next to the drunken boy so they could sleep within the same bed. God, could he be even more of a fool! Arthur could barely handle a single hug from the boy, could feel the rush under his skin with having Merlin pulled over his shoulder like this. Actually being NEXT TO HIM. In the same bed, with hours of unlimited time before them, feeling the warmth of Merlin's body right next to his own…just the mere thought made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

He needed to get out of here before he actually did have one…

X

Arthur Pendragon made it up Merlin's steps with relative ease after that, only relieved to step into Merlin's bedroom because it meant he didn't have to feel the stares of Gaius and Lancelot on him any longer. They had been making him feel like a criminal, needing his every step watched because they thought he'd try stealing the first thing he put his hands on. Well…he might attempt to steal away his consort, but that was beside the point. For one, Merlin had legs and would run away from him the second he tried. And two…Merlin fucking giggled when Arthur eased him down onto the bed. The tiny thing bouncing a little as Merlin settled down. Arthur had been bent over at the waist, hands curling on the back of Merlin's legs as he settled him on the bed, but his head popped up at the giggle.

The little light hearted giggle that could shatter a man.

Arthur didn't dare to blink, his lips parted only slightly as he stared up from in-between Merlin's legs. Merlin was looking back at him, the blue swirls inside of his eyes drawing him in like some kind of trance. What was so funny that it had Merlin giggling…what was so funny that it had Merlin laughing at him? Maybe it was just funny to Merlin that Arthur had carried him around like he was a pack mule. Or maybe Merlin was so drunk, a poke to the nose would've forced him into fits of giggles. Whatever it was…Arthur suddenly wanted to do it over and over again. He would do anything just to hear that little twinkle of laughter, he would do anything to keep Merlin looking at him like that. As if Arthur was the only man in the entire world. Arthur's hands were starting to feel slick against the back of Merlin's legs, sweaty, but his hands were attached to the muscles beneath his clothing and he didn't move them. Not until a loud clatter started coming from downstairs as somebody moved something, breaking apart their little trance.

"Err…"

Arthur stuttered, his throat so achingly dry that it felt like he had swallowed up handfuls of after handfuls of sand, his eyes wandering up and down the lazily relaxed length of Merlin's body, as if he couldn't quite take his eyes off of him even as he forced his hands off. Arthur straightened up and stepped back…he shouldn't touch. Even if Merlin was relaxed, and seemed to lean into his warm touch, and wanted him to do it…he had to keep remembering that sober Merlin wouldn't want him too. He needed to remember sober Merlin, instead of going off drunk Merlin…fuck! Arthur's spine went ramrod straight when Merlin sat up on the bed with the same grace of a pureblooded cat, the drunken stumbles a thing of the past it seemed. What was he doing…why was he sitting up! Merlin shouldn't be sitting up! He shouldn't be looking at Arthur with half lidded eyes that seemed to silently say something Arthur couldn't quite understand, being all dark and smoky as they were. What had happened to being sleepy? Merlin should've been laying back down, curling up on the hard thing he tried calling his bed, and…

"Why was everybody calling you Arthur downstairs? I mean, Gaius kept calling you Arthur and I didn't much like him doing that. If he wasn't my uncle then I'd have given him a piece of my mind. You shouldn't be called something that is even remotely sounding like 'Arthur.' You know…" Merlin stopped, looking along the room as if he thought somebody might pop out of the shadows and listen to what he was saying. It would've been cute, with a hint of paranoia, if Arthur wasn't suddenly filled with apprehension. The hair on his arms rose when the consort leaned forward, "I have a husband named Arthur. But I don't think that I very much like him. I've known him for months now, and he hasn't been very nice to me."

Hasn't been very nice to me, Arthur rolled that sentence around over and over again in his mind…it was an understatement if Arthur had ever heard. Him not being very nice would've been Arthur just ignoring Merlin all these months into their marriage. It would've been not engaging with him, letting Merlin flounder or rise on his own without any input on him. It would've been staying inside of his own lane, and pretending Merlin's lane wasn't even on the track. The blond hadn't 'not been very nice.' He had been pure, downright, mean. Evil. Taking it all out on an innocent boy because HE couldn't handle marriage. He regretted all that now, but…that regret has came a little too late.

"I think you should go to bed now…your husband wouldn't want you speaking about him, I'm sure."

Arthur spoke in a very low tone beneath his breath, eyes shifting down toward the floor, wooden and hard beneath him. It hadn't been anything that he hadn't heard before, but it still made his chest throb with an ache he hadn't knew was there until Merlin had drawn it out of him. Honestly, Merlin was being mild right now, compared to the screaming and hollering and fussing he'd been doing all this time to Arthur. But that only made Arthur hurt even more. The other hadn't been mad at him about something just now, and screaming at him because this seemed to be the only thing Arthur reacted too. Merlin had simply been doing nothing more other than stating a fact. 'My husband's not been very nice with me.' That was what he had said. And Arthur didn't have the strength to try and say anything to rebuff this. What was there to rebuff? He'd done it. And Arthur was now living with the consequences of his actions.

Sleep sounded like it would be the best thing for Merlin, the prince thought as he watched Merlin fumbling with the clasp on the family sigil he wore, trying to clumsily undo the cape around him so he could sleep easier. Sleeping would at least stop Merlin Freon speaking to Arthur…Merlin didn't even know that it was him he was speaking too. It was tempting, perhaps for another man, to try and use Merlin's willingness to talk to his advantage. Maybe Merlin had some kind of idea about what Arthur could do to earn his forgiveness, something he was not sharing because Arthur deserved to suffer and figure it all out for himself. And Arthur was in a prime position to figure out what that was, but…no. It felt kinda crummy…having Merlin be so trusting towards him, and then doing that to him. Like he was betraying Merlin all over again. And besides, it would have been…taking the easy way out. Cheating, in a way. Rather than earning proper forgiveness.

Well…Arthur always did do things the hard way.

He was just thankful he didn't need to help Merlin with the clasp, watching the other boy finally get the thing undone. He didn't want Merlin to feel his sweaty hands any more than he already had. He didn't want to touch Merlin and then feel the heat of his skin as Arthur's fingers brushed along the soft skin on his neck. Didn't want to be near something so fragile, for fear even the simplest of brushes with skin against skin might be enough to break something. Fearful he would touch the slight curve that made up the sensitive Adam apple in Merlin's throat…he had nibbled on that spot in his dream. It wouldn't be right for him to touch it now. Or to touch Merlin at all. Or…Arthur watched as the other boy let the cape fall from his fingertips. The dark cloth falling into a puddle right next to his bed…it was something Arthur would've done. Too used to having one of the servants trailing after him and picking things up behind him. But the other boy didn't have the same luxury, refusing to take any manservant Arthur might try to shove at him.

But it looked as if Merlin didn't much need one.

Arthur didn't think he had been up in this room since Merlin had got poisoned for him, he had needed a moment to himself and Merlin's room had been as far as he was willing to go with Merlin in his delicate state, but it was obviously so much different than then. Back then, the room had been completely smashed to bits. Each and everything destroyed. Clothes strewn everywhere, glasses on the floor broken and shattered, sheets and blankets rolled up in big balls that were abandoned and useless. Now though, the cloth was the only thing Merlin had on the floor. If Arthur didn't know this was Merlin's room, if it didn't smell like him, then he would've thought he'd gone into the wrong room by complete accident. It was spotless, for one. Perhaps a little 'too' spotless. And perhaps a little 'too' meticulous. Not even Arthur's was this straight, and he had people keeping proper eye on his belongings. It made Arthur…uncomfortable. Merlin's small permeating the air being the one thing to get him through this, even if it made him a bit fuzzy in the head. Arthur could still remember, after all, the day he had first walked in here and found Merlin's belongings had been moved out of the suites. The room hadn't been destroyed back then, but it had certainly looked more lived in.

This…this…this room now resembles a museum.

Stiff and lifeless.

Merlin's essence only lingering.

"I don't think my husband cares much about what I do. Not unless I've gone and done something to embarrass him in front of his people. Only then is he ever around me. When he has to be. Not because he wants to be. I'm pretty sure I did something tonight that I'll have to hear about later. I'm pretty sure I did…" Merlin trailed off, sitting on the edge of the bed as he tapped at his chin with a single long finger. His eyes were narrowed, looking as if he was thinking seriously hard. Probably about the goblet he had hit Arthur with, and Arthur's shoulders went up to his ears. Merlin wasn't exactly far off. If Merlin had gone and hit him before everything, before Arthur had known the truth, it was likely that Arthur would've done something to retaliate. He probably would've tried to hurt Merlin after his public display in the grand hall, probably would've hurt him worse than he has yet. His stomach was churning again, imagining Merlin and his lifeless eyes after Arthur was finally finished with him…the real Merlin clicked his tongue and shrugged off trying to figure out what had happened to them tonight. It was what Arthur wanted, for Merlin to shrug off their issues so he could start fresh. But it wasn't real. Merlin was drunk and didn't understand that he had every right in the world to hit Arthur. And Arthur had every right to stand there and take it. "He's probably going to hurt me again, you know. He's been telling me he's sorry and all this crap, but I know it's a lie. I know that he is just trying to get my guard down for whatever reason so he can spring some kind of trap on me. Why he's bothering, I don't really know. It's not like he has ever needed to trick me before to hurt me. My bruises from him have vanished from my body, finally. But I don't know how much longer he's going to play his stupid game before putting more on me. And then I'm going to have to see my friends when they look at me…like I'm some kind of battered housewife…"

Battered housewife…battered housewife…battered housewife…was that what Merlin had been all this time? What Arthur had done to him…Arthur could see it so very clearly in his mind's eye. Returning to his chambers each and every day where Merlin, after Arthur had enough and forcibly moved him to his own chambers where he could be watched after more closely, would be waiting for him. What clothes Arthur allowed him to wear doing absolutely nothing to hide the array of bruises that would decorate his skin in sickly patches of yellow or purple or brown or blue. Marks on Merlin's arms that were large, wrapping over his biceps in the same pattern as Arthur's hands, showing how harshly he was dragging Merlin around the place. Marks, if Arthur glanced down the back of Merlin's shirt, would show more handprints over his fair skin. Where the blond had shoved him, or pushed him, or kicked him to his knees whenever he got a bit too lippy with him. Maybe marks around Merlin's ankles if Arthur had gone through with chaining him to his bed or desk. It was like a never ending parade in the prince's mind. Mark after mark, marks that had never happened and the marks that had happened, flashing in Arthur's mind until he felt dizzy with the images of what he had been capable of. What he was still capable of if he let himself slip for even a second.

No wonder Merlin was attacking him on every front.

Staying on his guard and showing Arthur aggression with teeth and claws.

Because he still thought Arthur was going to hurt him. Because he thought the prince was, for some reason, trying to make him his friend. Just so he could've betrayed him. Something like that…it would've left an even deeper scar, a quiet one hidden within the heart. But one that was no less painful than the rest the consort had silently bore all this time. It had been wrong for Arthur to continue touching Merlin the way he had, grappling around with him like he was nothing but a toy. But to make Merlin think they were friends? Setting the stage just so Arthur could rip the metaphorical rug out from under him, so Arthur ended up being the one with the last laugh…it was diabolical. And completely on point to how Arthur had been acting all these months. Fuck, Arthur could feel his tears starting to return, eyes shining wet and his heart aching so much that he could have sworn he'd just been stabbed…he had screwed up so damn much. Ruined everything before it could begin. Never thought twice about it, until he had the other boy right in front of him. Sad and despondent. Sharing secrets that were not meant for Arthur's ears, but had been heard nonetheless.

"I'm not going to…I know that you don't believe me. We've been through this so many times before. But…it's not going to happen. Not again. Not for as long as I live will I ever hurt you again, Merlin. Even if I have to chain myself up just to stop it…I won't do it." Arthur's voice cracked something fierce, the water in his eyes wanting to make its race down his cheeks. He needed to say it, had to make his promises to Merlin. Even if he didn't believe them no matter all of the many times he'd said it before. Even if it sounded like a broken record after all this time. He would write his promises down in blood if he thought it would do a lick of good. "I swear to you Merlin…come hell or high water, my hands won't ever touch you again. You'll never get another bruise made by my hand. You'll never have to starve, or wonder about your place and role within the boarders of this kingdom. Never…never have to be scared, or be abused by those meant to keep you safe. Never wonder…wonder whether my sincerity is nothing more than a trick…"

Arthur was practically trembling, his entire body shaking from the effort it had taken him to speak these words. And it wasn't even everything he had wanted to say. Sure, there were some key points in there somewhere. But it seemed to not be enough. There were a thousand more things Arthur wanted to speak to Merlin, a thousand more unspoken words that needed to be out there. For the world to hear it. And yet, the lump throbbing in Arthur's throat prevented him from speaking another word. It made him want to cry until the heavens fell all around him. Made him want to scream until the insides of his throat started to bleed from how raw it was. Wanted to beg the entire earth to open up just so it could swallow him whole, releasing him only after eons had passed. Because it would surely take eons before Merlin forgave him. Just…anything! Anything to fix what had been broken. Anything to repair the damage he had caused. This …doing this to a drunken Merlin wasn't real. Merlin wasn't going to remember a damn thing in the morning, not with how drunk he was. Merlin would not be able to remember his sincerity. Would not remember how much effort it took for Arthur to not break down right here, drowning under problems that he had made himself.

"…but Lancelot, you haven't done anything to me…"

Arthur blinked, turning his focus back onto Merlin. He was so ashamed of what he had done to Merlin, he could barely even look at him now. But Merlin looked at him. With wide, unassuming blue eyes, his head tilted to the side with all of his drunken confusion. But so pliable. So open. So trusting of Arthur to do the right thing. Or…for Lancelot to do the right thing. And it was stupid, extremely stupid of Arthur, but…he laughed. It was a wet sounding laugh that sounded as if the end of the world was neigh. But it was a laugh all the same. If he did not laugh though, Arthur was sure he would've collapsed on his weak legs. It was wrong, for Merlin to look at him like that. As if Arthur was the one he had that stupid bond of trust with. The one Lancelot had forged with him because the other knight wasn't a complete dumbarse like Arthur was. Lancelot seemed to actually understand the value that was Merlin. Something Arthur had failed to recognize until it was far too late. The prince cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes roughly, scrubbing them until they felt pink and raw.

"C'mon, Merlin. Let's climb beneath the blankets. I'm sure you will want to lay your head down somewhere comfortable before you end up sick whenever you wake up. You can't exactly sit up like that for the rest of the night, you'll kneel over since you can't even walk straight." Arthur said in a low murmur, aware of Merlin watching his every step from where he was sitting on the bed's edge. It was uncomfortable, Arthur thought quietly, as he pulled down the sheets from the top of the bed so that Merlin could climb in. But the bed didn't look all that comfortable, the prince thought as he stared solemnly down at the straw bed and nearly flat pillow. Merlin would be so much more comfortable in the bed he had in the Royal suites. The blankets all fluffed up, with pillow to keep his head up so he wouldn't choke to death in his sleep on his own vomit. He shook that thought from his mind, knowing it would make him want to camp out along the consort's floor if he thought on it too much. "Here, nice and comfortable don't you think? The perfect place to sleep off a night of too much fun and causing scenes, as you said. A perfect place to rest your sleepy little head before the morning sun forces you up…"

Arthur felt stupid, as he brushed a hand down the length of Merlin's bed, just to coax Merlin beneath the sheets. He could feel all the lumps in the bedding, the places where straw was poking dangerously through the fabric. But he did not allow a single unsatisfied expression cross his face. He didn't want Merlin to get worked up if he thought Arthur didn't like his bed. Or give Merlin a real reason to put up a fight getting into it. Not that Merlin seemed to be in much of a fighting mood…he seemed to be more of a happy drunk right now. Much better than the belligerent drunk he'd been earlier, he thought as he chanced a glance out the corner of his. Merlin was watching him with that same grin, full of dopiness. Looking as if nothing in the world made him happier than seeing Arthur-or Lancelot-doing the peasant work that was turning the sheets. A wiry grin flashed on Arthur's face…yeah. Drunk or not, Merlin would enjoy watching him doing such lowborn work. But the things Arthur would do for this boy…

Even lowering himself to these standards…

"Fine, fine, fine. I'll play your games and I'll get into bed. But I don't think I'm very sleepy at all anymore! It's too early to go to bed when I could be having so much fun! That drink I had tonight was the yummiest thing ever, it tasted so fruity and sweet!" Merlin babbled on, doing a complete one eighty turn on the sleepy little boy he'd been when he had Arthur hauling his scrawny little arse up those stairs, praying they wouldn't fall through the wood whenever it had started to crack ominously beneath them. And then Merlin was there, playing Arthur's 'game', as if it had been Arthur's idea to get him into bed in the first place, flopping himself down on top of Arthur's hard work like some demented starfish. Spreading his limbs out to each end of the bed, his limbs far too long and hanging off the little cot as he buried his face with the pillow. The blond's eyes twitched, considering he had been making everything straight and Merlin had ruined it within five seconds, but he didn't say a word as he backed a step up from the bedding. "But just so you know, I am going to have a lot of dreams tonight! I don't usually like it when I dream! They're scary sometimes, but I do think tonight's going to be an okay dream! Cause you're going to be in it! I can just tell! And you're so much more cuter than Arthur is, Lancelot. You'll at least give me something more interesting to look at-"

Merlin continued his drunken little rambles, speaking to Arthur more than he'd spoken to the prince in ages, but his cute little rants faded into the back of his mind, too unnoticed and unheard by the prince. The floor felt like it was about to move under Arthur, upsetting him from his feet…cute. Merlin had just said it, it was impossible to deny or pretend he had misheard it. It felt as if some kind of siren or alarm was going off in his head, centered around that one word…it made his blood feel a little bit hotter in his veins. Merlin, in his own drunk way, had just said Arthur was…cute. As in, he was attracted to him. Still? Or was the consort talking about Lancelot? He thought Arthur was Lancelot, so maybe the consort was talking about him. Or maybe he had really been talking about the prince. Lancelot was cuter than him…Arthur brought a hand up to tug lightly at the blond bangs on his forehead. Feeling a little flushed in the face…he hadn't thought about it before. Merlin being attracted to him. Not since Merlin's crush on him, once upon a time, had been deemed a thing of the past. But now it's in his face again, and Arthur wanted to flee from the room in a panic, but he also …really wanted to know if Merlin was talking about Arthur himself. Or if he was still confusing him for Lancelot. The smartest thing to do would be to ask, but was that an answer he wanted to know? Would asking make him feel better, no matter which the answer was? Or would it make everything worse? Would him asking, while Merlin was in no fate state to answer questions, be considered as taking advantage…probably. And didn't Arthur JUST decide he wasn't going to do anything or ask anything of Merlin that he wouldn't if he wasn't sober? But Arthur had already broken his 'no touching vow', though these were also very special circumstances.

Especially considering it was the first time Merlin hadn't flinched beneath the grasps of his hands…

Something hard hit Arthur in the face.

Sudden and smacking and making him sputter in surprise.

The only reason Arthur didn't come out of his thoughts swinging, was because he was used to it by now. His consort throwing things at him, usually aimed at his face-he had a surprisingly good arm and good aim. But it had stil taken him by surprise, and he jerked the offending thing off of his face, the natural smell of Merlin's perfume hitting him in the face almost at once, choking him as that scent clogged up his throat. It wasn't particularly thick or heady, but the blond was like a bloodhound when it came to Merlin, and the clothing in his hand was saturated with Merlin. Merlin's scent. Merlin's sweat. Merlin's perspiration. The scent clinging to the fabric in his hand like a leach, leaving Arthur staring down at it for several long seconds, trying to understand what it was he was actually holding. And when he did finally clear the fog of his mind enough to recognize what it was in his hand…a blood vessel in the prince's head almost burst.

Arthur's blood went from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye, boiling in his skin until it felt like he was going to combust. His entire face flamed until it resembled a tomato more than human skin, and Arthur dropped Merlin's pants as if they had struck him. The dark cloth puddled to a floor at his feet, and the prince trembled as if he was facing a two headed viper preparing to strike him down. He almost felt as if he had just been caught with his hand down Merlin's underwear drawer, by Merlin himself, or doing something else incredibly stupid in his normal quest to get as close to Merlin as he possibly could. He was too scared to look, but it was as if he had no control over his eyes, feeling the pair raising back to the bed as if being led by some kind of magnets. Arthur's pale pink lips popped open, the blood rushing from his head to somewhere further south so fast, he could've collapsed if he hadn't grabbed onto the edge of the bedside table.

Merlin was naked…he was bloody naked…okay. Maybe naked was actually an overstatement. Merlin wasn't ACTUALLY naked. But he might as well be, with the sudden miles of pale skin suddenly open to Arthur's gaze. Merlin was flat on his stomach, his head turned away from Arthur so only black hair, thick and full, was in his sights. But god help him if Arthur bothered looking at it. Merlin still wore his tunic, but it was long, covering his upper body fully. The ends of it reaching just beneath Merlin's bottom…Arthur wasn't even sure if the other boy was wearing undergarments. But below that…were legs that could've gone on for miles and miles. Legs so pale and white, they could've been mistaken as milk. A light dusting of hair along the back of his thighs, so fair and slight that it could've just been Arthur's imagination that it was there at all. Arthur's seen Merlin's legs in his dreams, how he had imagined them to be since he's never seen them bare before, but the sight of them in reality was too much for him to handle. His brain was ringing in his head, tracing the curves of his thighs that peeked out from under the tunic, down the bend in the back of his knee, to the thin calf's that formed into his ankles. Delicate ankles that Arthur's entire hand could've wrapped around, the slim curve of Merlin's long foot and the toes the consort wiggled restlessly against the bedsheets.

Arthur made a strangled noise before he could stop himself…this was so much like his dream that he almost couldn't tell the difference between reality or the scenes his subconsciousness had forced on him. Sure, he wasn't on top of the consort like he had been in his dreamworld, but that didn't seem to matter. He was still here. Still staring at Merlin in an untoward state. Still shaking from the mad desire to touch, and the shame that rose in his throat when he realized he was starstruck with the sight in front of him. But Merlin must've heard him, the boy must've heard how Arthur sounded like an entire road had crammed itself down his throat. Because Merlin was shifting, the muscles and tendons inside his legs moving until the consort was turned halfway on his hips, blinking up at Arthur. Still innocent, still trusting, eyes still so blue that it stole the breath out of Arthur's chest.

Did Merlin know?

Did he know that Arthur wanted to trace those calf's with his fingers, find out if they are as soft as they looked?

Merlin was so innocent and pure, so naive and unaware of the dangers he was in with the vulnerability that he posed just now. But surely on some level, some bloody unconscious level, Merlin knew what he was offering up. Laying there so pliant, waiting for any fiend to come and take a bite out of that supple little thigh peeking out, Merlin's tunic only just covering the important bits. But no…Arthur knew now. Merlin was gazing at him like a child would, curious, maybe mildly interested. But not afraid of Arthur climbing onto the bed with him. Not afraid to be in another room with another man in a state of undress because…they were both men. They had the same parts. There was nothing for either to be shamed or embarrassed. Like brothers changing in the same room because it was how they've always done it.

But Merlin wasn't his brother.

And this was definitely not something they'd always done.

This was new.

This was different.

This was fucking scary.

And Arthur still didn't budge.

"You…you took your pants off…"

Arthur's voice came out still strangled, trying to offer some sort of explanation for his weird behavior. Because how fucking drunk was Merlin if he went ahead and started stripping right in front of him? What was next…would he strip away his tunic? Temping Arthur into looking, tempting him into figuring out what the exact shade of pink Merlin's little nipples were…tempting him into finding out-for curiosities sake-if the dream matched reality. But Merlin didn't seem to be taking the hint Arthur was giving him…he desperately wanted Merlin to put his pants back on, so he could think more clearly. But the consort only trailed his eyes down to his bare legs, frowning as if he didn't understand what was the prince's problem with him flashing about his pale legs like a fancy lady flashed her cleavage. God, Arthur really hoped he wouldn't have to explain why all this was so wrong…Merlin wouldn't remember any of this come morning. So it may be good practice, testing how Merlin would react when sober to Arthur trying to explain…certain things…

"But I don't like sleeping with my pants on! They are always so hot and stuffy and I can never move around in them like I like! They always get tangled about my legs and they make it hard for me to sleep! I can't sleep wearing that kind of stuff!" Merlin rambled on, blinking several times in his drunken stupor, and Arthur felt like he was hit by an aneurism. Did Merlin just…did he just say that he NEVER slept in pants? Arthur never wore a shirt to bed unless it was on a freezing cold night, but Merlin opted to take his pants off…fuck! Merlin had to make this so much harder than it was. He was going to get a bloody nosebleed staying in this room for a second longer. He was never going to be able to go to sleep again. Not without knowing Merlin was sleeping, bare legs tangled in his sheets. Bare legs flashing every time he moved around. Bare legs getting goosebumps in the chill of the room as Merlin pulled himself out of the bed in the mornings… "Besides! I love being free and not having anything to stop me or anything that would trip me up while I'm still sleepy! There's nothing in the world like being wrapped up in my blankets without sleep pants constricting me! You should try it sometime! It's wonderful!"

Merlin grinned blissfully, wiggling about in his bed as if he couldn't hold still for even a minute, such a mundane topic holding more weight than either of them knew. And Merlin's…Merlin's tunic rose up, bunching around his hips till Arthur saw…till Arthur saw…Arthur's heart made a valiant attempt to leap out of his chest when he saw…not skin. Fuck. Merlin was wearing undergarments…the prince darted his eyes away before he could stare at the tiny things Merlin had been wearing underneath. He shouldn't be…he shouldn't be looking right now. He shouldn't be seeing those faded red small clothes curved around the curves of Merlin's thighs. Shouldn't be wondering whether or not the little bits of fabric stretched across Merlin's bottom every time he moved. If they might even be big enough to…hold his private bits…or if Merlin walked around with those bits squished inside his undergarments all day long. This was the worse heart attack in the world just waiting to happen, and fuck Merlin when the boy decided to throw himself back. Flopping on his back on the bed as if he didn't have a single care in the entire world…giving Arthur un unadulterated view of sights never before seen by another's eyes.

Giggling.

Sweet.

Perfect.

Fuck.

"You're so funny…why can't I be married to somebody like you, Lancelot."

Arthur's breath caught in his throat, hitching as he whipped his head back to look at Merlin, without the strange urges killing him. Something else was now killing him…like a knife twisting itself in his body, until his guts spilled out of his chest cavity. His hands clenched and unclenched uselessly at his sides, his Merlin unaware of the devastation his simple words had brought to the young blond. Merlin's eyes were starting to flutter shut, his long lashes gracing along the apples of his cheeks as his legs splayed out in an uneven mess. His breath was coming out a bit slower, being lulled to sleep by the drink brimming strong in his veins. Slipping into his dreams, leaving Arthur behind to visit a world that he would never be able to follow him too. Perhaps that was the best, as it kept him from Arthur. But the knife twisted in his chest, until he could've sworn the real blade was actually there. Carving him up, leaving his insides ripped open as some kind of sick gift for Merlin to find when he woke up.

"What does…what does he have that I don't? I mean…what does Lancelot have that Arthur doesn't…"

Arthur wasn't even sure if Merlin heard him, considering the first thing the boy did was give a sleepy little mumble that had no hope of being real words, and wiggling himself deeper into the rough looking mattress. He wasn't even sure why he had asked them…of course Merlin would wish he was married off to a man like Lancelot! The two of them were so close, practically brothers, as the prince could now admit that lovers were off the table. But anyway, that other knight seemed like he would be Merlin's type. Somebody…perfect. Because as hard as Arthur had hated that man, he had been infuriatingly perfect. Standing up for Merlin, always being there to get in the way if he thought Arthur poised a problem, probably lending a listening ear whenever Merlin talked to him too…all the things Arthur hadn't done. All the things Arthur had thought had been far too beneath him to bother with. But god, he would listen to Merlin ramble if he could. Listen to him for hours without interruption, if only because it made him happy. Because it made Arthur happy, knowing there was so much life in that boy of his…so much life he would've missed out on…

"Everything."

The breathy little mumble escaping Merlin's lips a second time got the prince's attention, and Arthur's eyes snapped onto the slackened lips thad hardly even opened from how tired Merlin was. And Arthur was going to hell, or he had fell to hell already, he could hardly imagine hell feeling any worse than what it was he felt now. He was going to hell for asking Merlin questions he wouldn't have answered if he wasn't drunk. He was going to hell for taking advantage of the other boy, in his own way. And he was going to hell for wanting to climb in the bed, bury his face in Merlin's tunic, and cry himself into a sobbing mess that couldn't be contained. He hadn't expected a different answer. But having the confirmation, knowing that Merlin liked everything Lancelot had to offer when Arthur could do so much more than him…it felt like his entire world was ending in a flash.

"He's kind, and he's handsome, and he's respectful, and he's funny, and he not once ever hit me. There's so many things to like about Lancelot that I couldn't name them all even if I tried. I can see why Gwen likes him so much. I hope the two of them live happily ever after forever and ever." Merlin mumbled, his eyes fluttered open, but closing back almost immediately. He could've been talking to himself, instead of Arthur, as the consort rolled over on his side and curled into a little ball. Opening his mouth wide in a yawn that had Arthur seeing just a hint of white teeth before smacking them close. "I had a crush on you once an upon a time, Lancelot.I bet you didn't know that. But it's okay. I don't think I do anymore. I can't imagine a better coupling than you and Gwen. I hope that I …I hope that I (yawn) I hope that we're all still friends and I get to see you have a wedding day…bet it'd be beautiful. Not like a prison sentence…not like it was for mine…"

A prison sentence, Arthur thought, looking away from the aching sight in front of him, his consort falling into a blissful sleep with Arthur still standing there in his room. Merlin looked at their marriage like a prison sentence…it was exactly the same way Arthur had seen it for so long. Stuck with Merlin, hoping that his father would be able to send him away after a few years when he was ready to find a woman that could bear him Camelot's next heir. But him and Merlin…the two of them were the same. Forged with different metals, but part of the same weapon, that no woman would be able to encroach on no matter the reason for her involvement. His life with Merlin…it wasn't a prison sentence. Not anymore.

Not now that his eyes had been opened.

He simply needed to have Merlin see things the same way he did.

Arthur wiped furiously at his eyes, already knowing they were still going to be pink and raw when he faced Lancelot and Gaius down the stairs, but it was the only thing he could do. To try and hide the pain that would linger inside of his heart until he and Merlin were able to come together as one. As unlikely as this was right now. Arthur just had to keep holding onto his feeble little hope, even with Merlin's drunken little rambles forever echoing in the beat of his heart.

Arthur left the room after that, trying hard not to stare at Merlin's lithe form, as he shut the door quietly behind him.