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!

121. Chapter 122

"No, no, no, no, no. I wasn't trying to say anything like that at all, I can assure you of that. I wasn't trying to say that you are ugly, which you are most definitely not, of course! But I'll admit that I was just startled…surprised, is what I am trying to say. Madame Teresa really outdid herself when she made this one. It's absolutely gorgeous on you, more then when it was in my hands. I mean, not that I want to take it off of you because that would've been…entirely inappropriate-" Gwen abruptly cut her rambling off as fast as she could, the very second it occurred to her she'd indeed, been rambling. But her eyes went up and down the consort's form…she could honestly not have chosen a more perfect outfit for Merlin if she had tried. Even dealing with the loss of physical mass in his body from not eating, it had not been enough to ruin the effect of Madame Teresa's work. But it was more than that though. Madame Teresa was great with her work, but Gwen did not think an outfit like this would look half as good if it'd been created for somebody else. If Gwen still had a shred of respect for Arthur left, she would have been excited to see the prince's reaction to his consort and husband when they left the room. "I just meant…you really do look great."

Gwen could feel her face flushing with color as she finished off her words in a pitiful tone. She was so bloody stupid with what she'd said…not that I want to take it off you…what had she been thinking when she had said that little line. But the handmaiden could be scatterbrained, and even completely awkward at the worse of times. But the last thing Gwen was wanting was for Merlin to think she was…she was…testing? His sexuality by flirting with him in a manner she was most definitely not ready for. And would most definitely not have been doing with Merlin if she was ready. Not that she would not have enjoyed Merlin's companionship if they were going to head in that direction eventually, but…Merlin was gay. He was in an abusive marriage. And he was already in a state of delicacy without thinking his friend was about to start doing the most awkward of things, like throwing herself at him. To think…Gwen was now trying to justify her reasonings even in her own head, she really was an awkward person. And she'd already been awkward enough since her imprisonment, but that nightmare only seemed to make her anxiety flare up at the worse moments. To think…she had even thought for one single second there that Arthur-the monster that he was in their lives-would form a more healthy interest in Merlin if he only saw the boy all dressed up. A simple change of clothes, as good as they were, was not going to fix things up…it was not like Arthur was going to stop hurting Merlin just because they dressed him up for a night.

"Here, I just have to make a few adjustments here and there to make it sit right on you. But don't you worry, I know what I'm doing. Morgana likes to tease me by saying I'm the best seamstress in the kingdom whenever I have to fix up one of the hems on her dresses, so it's going to look perfect when I am done." Gwen said quickly, hoping to move away from her latest blunder as she snatched up the little pouch of pins on the bed. Before Merlin could say anything to stop her, Gwen was already rounding around him and kneeling down on her knees, using her thin dress to protect her skin from bruising against the wooden floor, so his back was to him, hoping to hide her blush until it faded from view. Which it should do as she started diving head first into her work, Gwen thought as she took to concentrated on the back of Merlin's legs. It was not as bad as it looked, and seemed like it would only take a few pins to hold it against him, so it wouldn't take nearly as much work as it would have if they had been a larger size on him. "This will actually only take me a few moments. And we can get started on your hair after I'm finished back here."

Merlin subconsciously brought his good hand up-though he kept his bad one leveled at his side-through his short crop of bangs. Pressing the straight strands to make them more smooth along his forehead, he wasn't entirely sure what the handmaiden meant by 'fixing his hai' but it terrified him far more then it should have. But perhaps this was a good thing to happen, for Merlin to fear terror over the little things that he at least knew wasn't going to kill him. It would be a good change of pace for him, since the things that often freaked him out was also adorned with blond hair. But really, it's not as if Gwen could do much to his hair, it was short and would be nothing like the long mane of hair that Lady Morgana had to play with. Hell, his hair was even shorter then…the prince Merlin's stupid brain refused to forget about. But Merlin did not get a chance to question Gwen on what she planned to do to his hair, or why his hair needed to be fixed at all since it usually had a mind of its own on the best of days, but the handmaiden distracted him by pulling on his pants. Making the skin tight fabric stretch, and Merlin gritted his teeth far too hard, feeling it constricting around his leg as Gwen was folding in the looser fabric, grabbing one of the pins out of the pouch.

"You know, you don't really have to help me dress. In fact, I can probably do this part myself, if you wanted to go and do …anything else." Merlin said slowly, voice far too cautious to talk to his friend with. But Merlin grimaced as he felt it when Gwen pulled the cloth around him tighter-should it really be that tight? It felt as if the pants were trying to be suctioned to his legs, pressing into every curve and every indent that he had, which in turn, caused it to constrict around his rump as well-and when he glanced down, Gwen looked to busy to even acknowledge him. She had her gaze focused intently on her work, and had somehow already managed to put at least three different pins sticking out of her mouth so there wouldn't be any pause as her hands worked, and so Merlin turned away, feeling something clipping into place as Gwen secured the first pin. It was a patch up job at best, but they hardly had the time to undo the seams completely so that it could be redone to became streamline against his body. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, and barely heard himself speaking-and barely noticed he was speaking at all, though very aware of how close Gwen's face became to his bottom, "Because I mean, you really don't have to do any of the things that you have been doing for me. You don't have to dress me now, or fix my hair, or my clothes. You definitely didn't have to feed me when it got so bad I was to weak to get out of bed. Or sit by my bed and wipe the sweat off my forehead. Or change my sheets…I know you are just being nice to me. You don't have to do all of this just for me just because I…" Merlin was hit with a new wave of sudden self deprecation as he lowered his face so that what bangs he had once again shadowed his eyes. "Because I did what anybody would have done, and saved your life. You do not have to pretend to be my friend just because your dad said he was…loyal…to me…"

Merlin obviously still wasn't sure what that kind loyalty was supposed to mean, or what somebody would do to fulfill the debt they owed to somebody that was as large as what the consort had done for their family. But this was Merlin, willing to lay himself down so that others could walk on his back if it meant they could get away free. Merlin hadn't even seen Tom much since, but Gwen…Gwen was always around, only because she was kind. And Merlin knew her kind trait had been strained because of what happened to her, because she'd associated herself with him. She didn't ask to be here and she didn't need to help her. Gwen needed to go back to her home and stay as far away from him as she could, long before Arthur Pendragon tried setting sights on her. And try doing something ridiculous, like accusing Gwen of trying to date him next, simply because she always wanted to spend time with him. Merlin would be sad to see her go, but Merlin also knew that he would be sadder if something else would happen to her just because he didn't see it coming. Or just because Merlin had been too selfish to tell her to leave him while she still had the chance. Merlin was already damaged goods, but that didn't mean that Gwen had to follow behind in his footsteps…Merlin's let out a painful yelp, and the boy was quick to jerk his leg out of Gwen's grip when something sharp jabbed him in his thigh.

"Oh, I am so sorry about that, Merlin! My hand must have slipped! These things are so thin you know, accidents can happen every now and then. But I can assure you that it will not happen again." Gwen said, her smile a little too bright as she looked up at him while Merlin goggled. The handmaiden was showing every one of her teeth in her smile, and Merlin had a dumbstruck feeling that Gwen…had just sunk a pin in his thigh on purpose. It still stung where she had pushed it in through all the cloth, but it was also something that would fade fairly quick. Gwen didn't seem to notice the consort's suspicion, because she returned to her work, folding in one more section of the pants and using a second pin to secure it unnoticed, into place. Merlin stared down at her for a long second, but realizing Gwen wasn't going to take his offer to leave right now, he slowly turned back to face his wall, while the handmaiden hummed to herself as she got back into her work. There was a few minutes of silence, where Merlin was almost able to pretend that he was relaxed, the humming of Gwen's the same tune that she would hum to him while she took care of him in his depressed state. But then, the young consort was snapped back into attention as Gwen secured the final pin, "You know, Merlin. I might be a maid, but there is nobody that gets to make my decisions for me. Or what I choose to do in my spare time."

And Merlin could feel a zing of panic and concern flooding through his body, which was surprising since Merlin hadn't realized he had enough soul left in him to feel compassion towards somebody else. But the last thing in the world that Merlin wanted, was for Gwen to feel as if he was trying to be a consort-a piss poor one-at the wrong minute by 'ordering' her to go. He hadn't ordered her to leave, and he was most definitely not trying to treat her as a maid. Somebody to do the job he didn't want to do and dismissing her afterwards since she was disposable and could be easily replaced by any other who would not put up such a fuss, like most of the people the boy had seen would do in a heartbeat. For Gwen to think he had became one of them….Merlin might've been willing to sell his soul just to make himself behave the part enough for him to start getting by so that the beatings from Arthur would not go on in their future days, but…he'd never 'truly' be standing among them as one of their own, Merlin knew that. Not if it meant treating one of his few friends so awful, not if it meant forsaking them to the dregs when they had been the only ones that had 'seen' him when nobody else did. Perhaps Merlin didn't know what -metaphorically-selling his soul meant. Because there were plenty of other consorts who would not mind throwing away those that were there for them when nobody else was, for the one chance they had at living the good life. But one thing was for sure…Merlin wasn't one of them…but he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he wasn't. Not yet, at least.

But when Merlin whipped around, with his mouth dry and his eyes wild and desperate, raw and panicking, the young handmaiden had already risen to her feet, her dress falling in its rightful place to swish around her ankles, "Merlin," Gwen said firmly, her eyes focused with a sharp clarity that forced Merlin to snap his jaw shut before he could try to offer her a million and one apologies for making her feel as if she would only ever be 'just the maid'. Merlin would know better then anybody else would, what it felt like being 'just the-' anything. Just the consort. The boy who should have everything figured out when he didn't have a single thing figured out. The boy who should definitely already have all the skills necessary to talk in front of a room filled with the most powerful people in the kingdom without stumbling his words. The boy who should, if he wasn't able to do anything else, look toward his princely husband for his guidance. And then tilt his neck toward the prince as if he was the prey offering himself towards the wolf in a bid for mercy before receiving none. "I can assure you of this, there is no chance that I would be here if I didn't want to be. My only duties are attending to Morgana, and unless I am mistaken by a large margin, you are not her. I am not doing this because of any…misconceive notion you might have. You might have saved my life, but that only means you are a decent person who couldn't let somebody die. I don't know why you were so sure I was innocent, but I do know that I wouldn't be here if you had only 'saved my life.' I want to help you dress only because you are my friend, and you need me just as I have needed you. That. Is why I am here. And that is why we have Lady Morgana currently tracking down Arthur. And why your uncle is preparing his equipment to fix you up. Arthur might not care, or maybe he does in his weird and twisted way, but we care about you. And you're just going to have to live with that. Is that understood?" And before Merlin could nod or do anything to say that he understood, the smaller girl moved to her next sentence, "Good, I suspect we won't be having a similar conversation again in the future."

Merlin wanted to curse himself, because apparently he did still have tears somewhere in his tear ducts, he could feel it when his eyes started misting over. But this was a good cry, the type of cry somebody did when they realized they were not as alone as they felt. And Merlin could only nod his head jerkily, not trusting himself to say something that would get the other girl upset with him again. But Merlin was positive that he'd done something like this before, at one point…had he not tried to push Gwen away like this? And hadn't the girl told him then as well that-basically-she had absolutely not a plan to leave him behind. Maybe Merlin should just stop this whole thing, should stop trying to push people away. He did not understand why they would not run and try to save their own skins from whatever ruin Merlin was going to bring into all of their lives, but…he couldn't spend his life continuing to push at people who were only going to push back. But their conversation fell flat after that…Merlin felt awkward and was unsure how to behave in front of a girl who defied what any other sensible person would have done…and why could the sorcerer not be more like Gwen? Able to overcome all of the adversaries that had been pitched against her, and was still able to stand as tall as she was. Sure, Gwen was still left to suffer after her ordeal, but she hadn't just let it break her in pieces either. Not like Merlin had…Merlin liked to think he'd been like that…at one time. But even though it hadn't been all that long ago, Merlin could only think of it as some far off distant memory. Though when he tried to remember the 'he' he'd been before, Merlin almost couldn't recognize him. The image in his head might as well have been this different boy completely, one who only looked like him but…wasn't him.

Not anymore.

Gwen moved around him easily, continuing her work as she moved Merlin to her liking. Which, as she was done pinning in his pants, was basically Gwen putting a hand on Merlin's shoulder and nudging him down to sit on the bed. So he was short enough for her to do her work without having to strain herself, as she stood above him. Gwen picked up a dark and wooden hairbrush she had fetched out of the trunk, and the consort sat stock still as she started running it down across his dark locks. Trying to make it lie flat, but Merlin could see from the way she had her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as she focused intently on his hair, that it wasn't working out for her. Merlin could have told her that, his hair was impossible to control. And Gwen seemed to have came to the same conclusion herself, and abandoned the brush to the edge of the bed. She reached back into the trunk before pulling something else out-Madame Teresa really thought of every choice they could take, Merlin had blandly thought as he watched Gwen tugging off the lid. It was this odd kind of gel, something only nobles wore because peasants knew it would be sweated out and cause a massive mess that would be too much of a hassle to deal with before it was even time for lunch. Though the real reason was probably because the gel wasn't entirely affordable to people who worried where the next meal would come from. Merlin wrinkled his nose at thick cloying smell that came from the container so close to his face, but didn't say a word as Gwen started working it through his locks. It made his head feel funny, his hair a bit stiffer then it usually was, as it was forced into place, but…he still didn't say a word. Until, the strangest thought struck him out of nowhere, and he was talking long before he could stop himself.

"Hey, Gwen." And Gwen made a non-communal sound from somewhere in the back of her throat, letting him know that she was listening. Merlin opened his mouth to ask her what was in his mind, but winced instead, when Gwen tugged on a particularly stubborn piece of hair, nearly yanking it out of his scalp as she gelled it into submission. Merlin would have tried protesting but honestly, it was probably the least type of pain he had felt in a long time. So, he shook it off himself and continued, "Morgana…was she the one that started the rumors about Clarissa? Because I know it wasn't me…"

Perhaps it was a strange moment to bring it up, but Merlin hardly cared about that. And when Gwen had started to talk about friends, and including Morgana's name in there…there had only been one thing that came to mind. Back when he'd ran into Clarissa…she had accused him of starting up some kind of rumor about what she and Arthur had been going to do the night Merlin walked in on them. The night that she'd tried to lure Arthur into her bed while Merlin had been busy running himself ragged to save the kingdom. Did he get any proper thanks for that…no, he'd gotten Arthur insisting their was nothing wrong with the way he treated Merlin, nor was he abusive. It would be pretty hard to deny with the bruises on Merlin now, but anyway…Merlin had known for a fact that he hadn't started those rumors. Clarissa hadn't seemed like she had believed him, only irritated because everybody was talking about what a snake she was. Those rumors had most likely been washed out by Merlin's own, but…Merlin couldn't understand why in the world Morgana would have involved herself with these marital problems that Merlin was finding himself in. Perhaps it was because she was like Gwen…and she'd also go above and beyond to protect her friends. After all, he had learned first hand how damaging a rumor could be, and his was not even true. But how damaging would a rumor be that was actually true…

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Morgana hasn't mentioned any such things to me. Are you sure you've got your information right, Merlin?" Gwen asked, glancing from where she was tugging another piece of hair out of the way to look him in the eye. But she had this strange smile across her face, as if Gwen knew exactly what Merlin was going on about, but it wasn't going to be from her lips that he heard the truth. Merlin looked away, a blush rising to his face…he wasn't smiling, but it was probably as close to one as Merlin could get nowadays. Gwen's gaze focused on him for a few seconds longer, her expression both incredibly warm as well as incredibly sad. She sighed heavily, the teasing smile had faded from her face as she turned back to her work, "Merlin, I hope you know…" the girl started to stay, before pausing as if she was thinking of the words in her head, but unsure how to say them out loud. Merlin glanced up, but Gwen kept her focus entirely on his hair as she readjusted his bangs so the strands could hang a bit off to the side, "…I hope that you'll always remember…you do have friends in Camelot. Even if it gets really bad, worse then is it even now and you don't feel as if there is anywhere you can go…I hope you know you can always come to me. Or to Morgana…"

Merlin felt this pang somewhere deep in his chest…he was not sure how much he could take if things would 'get worse' as Gwen had said. Things already felt as if they couldn't get any worse for him, Merlin was already as far down into this trench as he could get. There seemed to be no lower down, for him. But Merlin only nodded his head again, wishing that he could tell Gwen everything. She might wish she could be there for him, but there were just some things that he had to keep to himself. Like how Merlin felt as if most days, he was only barely hanging onto the world by his fingertips. How he always felt as if he was walking around in a daze, the world all around him seemed to follow him in shades of this muted grey that refused to light up with color. How every sound he heard from behind made him flinch, how he was completely afraid to close his eyes even to blink because when he did…Arthur was there. Ready to carry out the torture he had just inflicted on him, only for an eternity. How Merlin knew that it was only a matter of time before he jumped off the ledge of this cliff he stood on, but any second would it give away and he wouldn't even fight the fall. How Merlin could barely feel his own magic nowadays, the light inside of him hiding until he felt safe again…even when knowing he was never going to be safe even if the pain stopped. There were a few things in his mind…that were just too dark for Merlin to share with anyone. Let along, with sweet Gwen.

But Gwen seemed to be strangely perspective, and seemed to see that he was holding far more in then what a healthy person would have, because she gave another heavy sigh as she straightened up, her hands no longer fiddling around with his hair. But Merlin wasn't a healthy boy, not in mind or in body, and hadn't been for a long time. And he sat there as Gwen roved her eyes up and down his form, biting down on her lip as if she was toying around with the idea of admitting something to him. But finally, she spoke, sounding to Merlin as if she was braver than any lioness, just because she had dared to admit the truth. Even if it was only to Merlin, as he was probably the one person in all the kingdom who would be able to understand…because they had both been hurt by the same person, "Arthur has hurt me too. Nothing like he's hurt you, or course, but he has hurt me all the same." And in those words, Gwen had succeeded in getting Merlin and his complete attention, the consort noting that the handmaiden didn't try to minimize Merlin's pain when compared with her own person pain. And Merlin could see Gwen's eyes as they traced along the bruisings on his face, making them burn on his skin as if he had just been hit with hot embers straight to the face. "I have not been able to look at him the same way since that day. I cannot be in his presence for more then one moment without thinking of the cold blankness he showed me on his face, before he had his goons carting me towards the dungeons without a second thought. Arthur Pendragon seems to do more…harm, then he does good. And I am just so afraid Merlin…not for me, but for you. If he can do things like this-" Gwen gestured to his face to indicate the marking he wore across his eye. "Then…what if he…what if he tries to get rid of you as he did me?"

Perhaps this would have been the part where Merlin should open up to Gwen as well. To speak his truth, and share his fears…admit that he also feared the day Arthur decided that he was too much trouble to bother keeping. But the consort hated to admit it…he wasn't as brave as Gwen was. And that was what Gwen was…brave. For admitting what Arthur had done to her, for saying that it was not okay. But Merlin was used to keeping secrets, and this was another secret he had to take to his grave. Though, it would be right to share his pain…an eye for an eye, or a tooth for a tooth, or a shared pain for another's shared pain, and yet…it was an idea that made Merlin's throat close in on him. Like it was warning him not to be stupid again, telling him that any truth was like lighting kindling on fire. It started off as a slow spark, but how long did it take before it started to burn. And if not properly contained…it could burn an entire forest onto its roots. Merlin trusted Gwen, but it would take only a wrong mention of it at the wrong time, and Arthur would discover his pains. And the prince had already struck him until he'd been forced into showing him vulnerability. Did Merlin really want to put himself into that kind of position again…no, the consort did not. Though Merlin could admit…he was never going to look at Arthur the same way again either.

"He won't do anything to me." Merlin said with a wry smile that he knew was once again coming off a fake. But if Merlin wasn't going to be brave like Gwen, if he wasn't going to try burning this entire kingdom to the ground…if Merlin wasn't going to be the one spark that could turn this kingdom into a raging inferno covered with hellfire…then he needed to be the one that put Gwen's fears to rest. Be the one that could show her calmness, be the gentle river that the consort was only able to wish he could float in, allowing it to carry him on for miles and miles. Until he could finally leave his trouble in a place so far away, they could never follow him. "He is not going to do what he did to you to me. He's not going to try…accusing me of witchcraft just because there are a few little …issues, we need to work out. Besides, Arthur loves me just a little too much. Well…he loves torturing me too much to go and do something like that. Trust me, you aren't going to be the one visiting me in a cell next."

And Gwen let the disappointment show on her face, eyes dropping low to the floor with her shoulders sagging. That was not the kind of answer she was hoping for, but it'd been the only answer Merlin was willing to give to her. It was only a small piece, but…at least Merlin was talking. And that had to count for something, yes? At least Gwen herself was now talking…but Merlin's honest blue eyes had a way of being so earnest, before they were clouded over with his doubts and his misery, that one could not help but spill their deepest or darkest of thoughts to him. She hadn't liked the way Merlin had oh so casually mentioned that Arthur loved to live their lives torturing him, because that could only mean that Gwen would be seeing Merlin a lot more then she wanted too. The Merlin that would have more and more bruises dotting along his skin, a canvas of bruises and marks telling a story to her that Merlin would never speak from his lips. Little issues, the boy had called them. Gwen's had 'little issues' with servants before, and they had never resulted in blows to the face. So, Gwen ended up turning her back around to the trunk, while refusing to let Merlin see her heart 'ache' to help fix him up. But perhaps Merlin didn't need to be fixed, and Gwen could only do the most important thing a person could do. Which was being ready to offer a listening ear for when Merlin was ready to speak. And until he was, well…Gwen would be just fine helping Merlin to be his best self, she thought as she managed to find a little looking glass no bigger then the size of her palm.

"Here, Merlin. Why don't you take a look at yourself. I think I am pretty much done with the important bits." Gwen said to him, though she looked nervous. As if she was worried what Merlin's reaction would be. Though Merlin could've told her there was no reason for such things. Merlin was positive she couldn't have done anything worse to him then how he had already looked before she had gotten her hands onto him or his clothes or his hair. Hell, a child could have probably end up doing better then whatever Merlin himself would've tried to do. But Merlin didn't say a word, and reached out to take hold of the mirror that she was holding out for him. "Let me know if there is something you want to change or anything-"

Gwen's voice sounded raw, as if she was still feeling ripped open and vulnerable from speaking of her terrors. And that only made Merlin feel the same. He hadn't said much to give her an idea on his own pains, but…he still felt as if his inside had been ripped open for everyone to see and ogle at until he had nothing else to give. Something tangible for people to pick through until there was nothing left of Merlin for any person to see. But, Merlin still didn't say a word that would bring attention to the rawness that permeated the air right between them. And simply looked down into his reflection in the little mirror in the palm of his hand. And Merlin blinked…and blinked…and blinked again as he stared at himself. Or at least as he stared at…somebody that looked like him. But he did not 'feel' as if the man looking back was him. Not really.

Logically, Merlin knew that the man looking back at him was indeed…him. It was impossible to deny, and Merlin was only able to trace the bruised markings that lined the right side of his face with his eyes. It looked…grotesque, worse than what the boy had thought. He felt like his face had been held down so a carriage could ram into it, but somehow…he had hoped that it wouldn't be as noticeable as it was. But it most definitely was, and there was absolutely no hiding it from anybody. It was all molted purples and dark shades of grey…and it only seemed to stand out more when compared to the paleness of his own skin. Though the cut that went down along his lip seemed to keep catching his attention far too easily, how red it was when compared to the soft shade of light pink that was the usual color of his lips. But before the consort could think of how bad an idea this was, Merlin shot his little pink tongue out to play with the cut. Tracing it slowly up and down, feeling the groove of it sunken into his skin. It stung greatly, painful enough for the consort to start shuddering the entire time he played with it, like somebody had literally poured salt into the wound. But, it was like a far smaller version of Merlin digging his nails into his wrist, the pain he gave himself was easier to focus on then the pain he had been given. Like his anxiety was finally being released…now that he had something new to focus on. And so he did it again and again and again, the pain releasing endorphins into his system that relaxed him.

But Gwen was waiting for him to answer her, and Merlin was able to see the boy in the mirror copying his motions when he withdrew his tongue back into the cavern that would be his mouth. It was still disturbing, disconcerting…and Merlin felt…disconnected, from his actual body. Knowing that this was him, this bruised and broken boy…didn't make him feel as if any of this was actually real. But it was, and Merlin was forced to drag his eyes away from his bruises so that he was able to look at his hair. Gwen really had done a good job, he might have even looked good if there weren't signs of what he had endured all over his face. It had been bad enough to have his pains on the outside, and yet…his pains were stuck on his outsides now. Where Merlin couldn't hide them…and where Merlin couldn't pretend they didn't exist. The ugly of Merlin's soul now reflected on his face…Merlin shivered and forced his eyes up so he could refocus sorely on his hair. To pretend for a little longer that Arthur's hand hadn't collided with his face…it appeared as if Gwen really had given up on making his hair lay flat. She had used the gel to force it into the unruly hair style he usually had. Only…more tousled, as if he had just rolled straight out of bed and simply used his hand as a brush.

"I think that you look perfectly presentable. Just as beautiful as Lady Morgana was, and I'm sure that everybody else will see it too." Gwen said slowly, rambling on when Merlin took too long to answer her. But Merlin barely heard her over the drumming in his eardrums, feeling his hand squeeze slowly around the mirror. He could fairly hear a small crack, but the cracks starting to appear in the corner of the mirror did not phase him, the whites of his knuckles going unseen while he slow tightened his grip around the mirror. Merlin could only stare into the blue eyes of his own, captured by the light of the mirror, and felt disgust with himself. There was nothing wrong with what Gwen had done to him, but…Merlin could feel something hot and dark starting to rush throughout his veins, his eyes continuing to rove over the bruises that was going to make him who he was. A victim….and still, he could faintly hear Gwen talking in the background when she finally addressed the large elephant in the room, "Perhaps there's a few things I can do to touch up your face before we bring you out there. I'm not sure if what Madame Teresa packed is going to cover it, I'm sure she wasn't anticipating needing to hide injuries or she would have packed something that was a bit more…appropriate and could do the job. But maybe we can do something so that it doesn't look as…vivid, cover up the lighter patches. It's too dark to go away completely with what I have, but…maybe we can use some of the kohl along your eyes. Maybe if we made the blue in your eyes pop, it'll draw attention away from your cheek…guys are not always able to pull it off. But you have the face for it, I think it would look good on you…"

Gwen's voice drifted off as she started talking to herself, to work out some kind of game plan in her mind that he wasn't privy too. Merlin could vaguely notice Gwen picking up that little pouch that held the makeup supplies Madame Teresa had included…the woman had tried putting kohl on him for his wedding, but Merlin had denied her since he was unsure about the stuff. But Merlin made no such actions now, not even when he heard Gwen opening up the pouch, and heard the clattering of makeup supplies being spread out all along his nightstand. These little odd tubes and square containers and brushes that would look as if they were better fitted for an artist and their canvas then somebody's face. But once again…Merlin said nothing, unable to look away from all the mess that he had once called his face. Try as he might, the consort could only trace his bruisings with his eyes over and over again. Until he had memorized every little indent of the bruising, every harsh color as it changed and shifted shade as it went lower against his face. Until it was seared into his brain, and he could picture it in full detail even with his eyes closed to the world around him.

And Merlin did as such, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at himself. He heard Gwen chattering around in the background, going over different color pallets that may compliment his skin tone, and what colors she had that may be able to be blended together to hide a good portion of his bruising so that it wouldn't look as bad. But…Merlin took in a sharp breath, feeling like hot embers were forming inside of his throat and trying to suffocate him, like a dragon that was about to release a torrent of flames from his snout. Slowly, a few more cracks appeared on the mirror as Merlin squeezed it tighter, the glass splintering off in different directions as it tried accommodating to the tightness of Merlin's fist. Merlin knew he had deserved what he had gotten, knew with all of his soul that he was a horrid person who needed to be hit or slapped around before he could finally do things right but it was in this moment…staring at himself…that Merlin seemed to be hit with the sudden…unfairness of it all. Unfairness in his situation, and unfairness in his life as a whole, and…how had he gotten to this point in his life, Merlin didn't know.

Merlin took in another harsh and ragged breath, feeling his throat grow hotter and more embers that tasted like ash was building in his throat, the weak stir of his magic somewhere in his veins that Merlin wanted to hold onto like a lifeline. His lungs filled, not with the air he needed to breath but with all the fire he had been denying himself. This Merlin…the Merlin in the mirror…this was not him. This sad person, a little boy who looked back at him as if he was trying to say 'look, look at what Arthur's done to us'. And something inside of Merlin wanted to scream, to scream until his throat turned red and started to bleed from the force of his screams, until there were literal fire streaming from his words as he roared like a dragon that had been locked in his cage in his prison for far too long. Where was Merlin…the young boy who not even a month ago, had been willing to fight Arthur until they both ended up in the dirt. Willing to use whatever he had at his disposal-nails or quills, if he had too-to make Arthur bleed and hurt, so he could only a fraction of what he had been feeling these last three months. Where was Merlin …the one who had claimed not even a month ago, if Arthur ever lifted a hand on him in rage…swore he would rein the literal fires of hell down on his head. Was that boy still buried inside of him in some way, or was he gone completely…Merlin had always thrived to be a man of his word, but the sad sack of shit that was staring at him now…said that Merlin didn't have enough fire brewing in him to fight back. Not enough fire burning yet-even though he could feel something far more then just his magic trying to stir it's way out of his veins, this part of him that was dark and twisted from the circumstance he'd been living in, unrecognizable to the Merlin who'd first arrived in the city-to scorch Arthur until there'd be nothing left for even his father to identify.

No…Merlin didn't have enough fire storming inside him…but he would…one day. And until then…

The sound of shattering glass seemed to echo throughout the small room, forcing a startled yelp out of Gwen as she had to whip around to catch sight of the horror show in front of her. Merlin…with his arm outstretched, holding the broken remains of the mirror in his now bloody fist, shards of small glass raining down onto the ground to intermingle with all of the other pieces Merlin had already broken before they had got to him. And Merlin…with an undistinguished rage across his face that Gwen had never seen on him before…her eyes fell down to Merlin's wrist. Where the small cuts from where the glass had pierced him, now had blood leaking down and sliding around the joints of his wrist bone. Her insides were starting to quiver, and Gwen…Gwen didn't know what to do to fix something this…this horrid.

"Should I…should I just take that as a…no make up? You do not want me to cover them up?" Gwen asked Merlin, with a weak smile, doing everything she could to pretend that this was normal. That anything about this situation was normal…even if it was the complete opposite of normal, she thought as she watched the blood disappearing into the dark sleeve of the top she had Merlin wearing. Though confusion could have struck her cold…why would Merlin have this harsh and intense reaction, was it because of her? Because she'd just assumed that Merlin would want to cover up all the bruising on his face? Gwen had only thought Merlin wouldn't want to go out there, eat at the feast and make nice with the guests in their kingdom, looking like he'd just gone ten rounds with someone far larger and bigger than he himself was. Had she been wrong to think that…"You didn't have to break it apart, you could have just said something. It is only your decision on what you want. If I'm stepping over the line, you can just tell me. I won't be offended…."

And Merlin breathed again, the scorching heat feeling as if his lungs had been ruined as his breath scraped roughly on his insides, only cooled down by the sound of Gwen's soft voice echoing in his eardrums. The mirror that he held still held a few shards of glass barely clinging onto it but it was enough for Merlin to see only this small section of his face…his eye that was not broken up and bruised by the hand of a man who had no qualms about being seen beating on his husband in the middle of the street. Merlin's eyebrow was pushed down as he glared hatefully in the mirror-but he didn't know if he was more angry at Arthur for doing this to him, or himself for allowing this to happen-and there was a dark shadow in Merlin's eye. A certain darkness that hadn't been there before…something that said Merlin had seen and lived through far more then a man should be allowed to take in one lifetime. Something that said…Merlin had literally zero fucks to give about what happened to him anymore. Like the dragon that would fight with wings and talons and fire even as it was being tied with rope and pinned to the ground by a group of men who thought they could contain it. But fought still…for its right to live even as a dagger was being readied to slit its throat.

"…No." Merlin said, his tone not exactly harsh but definitely firm enough to get the message across. Because like Gwen had said…it was his decision. And only his. Merlin lowered his eyes away from his reflection, slowly putting the mirror down on the table beside the rest of the belongings Gwen had scattered around the table. And Merlin took in another deep breath…he could have sworn that it tasted like just like he imagined brimstone and hellfire tasting like, once again scraped along his throat…what did it matter if his husband took up a new hobby that included beating him around over and over again…what did it matter if Merlin stayed the victim that he was. Merlin had already lived this long, and the boy figured there was very little Arthur could do to him that he'd not already done before. So…why did he continue to bother staying in his little shell, in this…bubble…that had continued to warm him in a world where frosty stares would always be meeting his own. Why did he continue to stay quiet, why did he not ever allow himself to BURN mightier than a thousand suns when…Arthur could do no worse to him. There was this plan that was starting to form in Merlin's mind…though less then a plan, and more of a suicide mission…that had the boy rolling his shoulders and standing up a little straighter. This feeling settling in his gut that told him…he knew what had to be done. "…Let them see me." And Merlin turned to Gwen as this intensity burned in his eyes, making them almost glow a vibrant light that had Gwen's jaw going loose, blinking slow, dumbstruck by the resolve and seriousness in his gaze, "Let them see me. Let them all see what Arthur has done to me…and let Arthur rue the day that he ever put his hands on me."

Merlin knew though-as he uncaringly slid the dark fabric of his sleeve across his wrist to mop up any traces of blood as the dark fabric hid any wrongness he might've done-that he was not quite ready to burn yet. But there was a spark deep inside of him, buried under this pile and pile of nothingness just trying to break out. And when it did…Merlin hoped that it BURNED, Arthur before his suicide mission started going into action. It wasn't as if Merlin could do anything right in Arthur's eye…even when he didn't do something, it was him that ended up being the one that was burned. But if Merlin was just able to…push Arthur a bit more, if he was able to be the brattiest person on the planet that Arthur thought him to be…maybe Arthur would grant him mercy. And finally slit his throat to put an end to his suffering. This was the best plan Merlin had…if Merlin wasn't going to go ahead and end it all himself, which he'd had ample opportunity to do over these last few weeks that he would have been happy never living through, then…Arthur would just have to be the one that did it for him. The only problem was…Merlin wasn't as brave as Gwen was. She might be quiet but she still faced Arthur far more then Merlin had in these few weeks, as she followed alongside Morgana. He wasn't sure if he could do this, was not sure if he could force out the traits that Arthur found to be so…disgusting, about him. Which was pretty much every little part of him, but…Merlin could talk a good game now. It would be in time though, when Merlin faced him next…that'd tell rather or not Merlin had anything inside of him that had remained from the Old Him. But Merlin hoped…god he could hope as his bellow churned unsettled…that the next time he faced Arthur, he would truly rein the fires of hell down upon his head. And on anybody who stood with the prince…if the consort was going to burn. Then he wanted to burn all who thought him worthless…thought him…Unwanted….

What did he have to lose? Other then his soul. And his non-existent dignity. But you know…smectics.

"Okay…okay. Then we won't put anything on your face. You will just go as you are." Gwen spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as she felt the heat creeping up along her face. It was embarrassing, but…she was in absolute awe over what her friend had just declared. That was probably the bravest thing she had ever heard…wearing a literal battle wound on his face and turning it into a symbol of pride saying…he's a survivor, rather then trying to hide that he was a victim. She could have never done that herself, had never done that for herself. She had disappeared into her home for the entirety of a week to recover from her ordeal in the cells. But Merlin wasn't…he was going to face Arthur so soon after what had happened…Gwen turned her back to Merlin because she felt so overwhelmed. And started to smile to herself as she was carefully packing up the makeup supplies back into the little pouch that had came in. They wouldn't be needing these for a long time, if ever…Gwen jerked her head up though, as she heard a terrible and horrible gut churning wrenching coming from somewhere behind her. And Gwen spun around, as her skirts tangled themselves around her ankles, her eyes went wide at the sight in front of her. "Merlin!" She raced across the room to his side in a heartbeat, kneeling down onto the ground beside the consort, putting a hand on his sweating back. "Are you okay…" she patted him as he retched again and again, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, just let it all out and everything's going to feel so much better when you are done…"

Merlin tried in vain to lift his head out of his cleaning basin, the bucket that usually sat in a corner of his room until the consort needed to wash his clothes, but was being used as a makeshift place for him to put his sick. Merlin had barely opened his mouth before his face turned a horrid, unsettling shade of green and his head was back in the bucket. A large retching sound permeating the air as Merlin emptied all his stomach contents, though it was little more than this watery mess since Merlin didn't have much in his stomach to empty to begin with. But still, Gwen stayed by his side even as the smell started to carry out into the room, patting his back as she ignored the way her own stomach was starting to churn in sickness. Merlin wanted to tell her thank you…somebody being there made him feel as if he wasn't a total failure…but the second he tried to pick his head up, he would suddenly find something new that needed to exit his body.

After far too long with his head spent in the bucket, Merlin finally withdrew his head, wiping the leftover mess that was trying to cling to his bottom lip with the back of his hand, "I think I'm done." Merlin choked out, his breath ragged as he tried sucking in fresh air. But he didn't dare move away from the bucket either, just in case his stomach decided it would want to make a sudden reappearance in front of him. Merlin might have been able to talk up a good game, but…he could only see himself as being reduced to…this, and the young consort's eyes fell into the mess that had became of his one and only bucket…it would definitely need to be cleaned out, or just tossed completely, before he used it again. But…just the idea of standing up to Arthur, of facing him down like a dragon would face a tyrant trying to imprison him…could've been enough to make Merlin homestead with his bucket. Or risk throwing up all over Arthur's shoes as he tried spitting a fire at the prince…Merlin sure would be spitting. But it would not be fire that came out. But the longer that the young boy sat there, eventually…he had to admit that there wasn't one more thing willing to come out of him. Or in other words, he didn't have anything left to give. And Merlin had to admit he was just sitting there, his arms and legs curled around a tiny bucket as if it was going to be his lifeline, to stall for time he didn't have. "…I think it's time for me to go see Gaius and go get fixed up."

Gwen nodded her agreement, before bringing her hands up under his arm and helping him rise up to his feet. Merlin was shaky for a second, leaning most of his weight on her, as he was having trouble standing up straight. But the taller boy shook it off the best he could, and pulled his arm away from Gwen. Gwen might be great emotional support, but damn it …Merlin could walk on his own. That was at least something he was still able to do…unless Arthur intended to eventually snap his leg bone to accompany his fractured wrist. Merlin could have a matched set of injuries…wouldn't that actually be something else, the consort thought agitated. And Merlin brought a hand up to tug at the collar of his tunic, stretching out the fabric as far away from his skin as he could get it but feeling it trying to stick to him because of how much he had sweated when he'd been throwing up. Honestly…how did he think for one second that he was going to make it tonight, if he couldn't even get out the door without feeling like he was about to pass out. But perhaps, Merlin thought with this dry mirth, glancing down at his shirt with dulling eyes…he could play a nice little game of pretend, to help him get through a evening like the one coming ahead of him.

Merlin didn't think he had played pretend since he was at least ten years old, when he and his best friend Will would take long sticks and try beating each other up with them so that they could be knights, taking turns being the bad guy who needed to be killed so the good one had a real chance to save the 'princess'. But times had changed since then…and Merlin was no longer a child, the games needed to be changed. Looking down at his shirt now, tugged away from his body, Merlin could vividly see the silver colored links of chain design that followed along the neckline. How ironic it was that it was chains that decorated him…Madame Teresa must have a bit of a humorous streak in her. But perhaps the outfit could actually be good for something, being used as a costume for Merlin's greatest performance yet. Merlin would not be saving a Princess from a tower this time. Instead…he was going off to war, the soldier who marched straight into the battlefield while knowing full well that this battle could very well be his last. This silver embroidery along the collar of his tunic…could be something else other then the helmet that the knights wore, Merlin thought long and hard for what would be an acceptable substitute.

Merlin knew that Madame Teresa had to have worked super long hours of nonstop sewing for her to get the chain links looking as realistic as she did, the color shimmering as the consort moved it in the light. There were a reasons that the peasants didn't try to imitate the beautiful designs only one of noble birth could afford to have. Because the work it took to create an outfit that had actual images in the clothing, or designs that could take the breath away, took this immense amount of time and concentration. Something that peasants didn't have a great abundance of…just another way for all of the nobles to show how much better they were then a mere peasant. But…perhaps the embroidery could be looked at as Merlin's face paint. Not a helmet, but the way a fighter from days long since past-long before the world had things like a powerful crossbow or a perfectly balanced sword-would try to use paints or berries to create nasty designs across their face. A way to disfigure themselves as they hid in the woods so their enemies wouldn't know they were there…just before they struck them down. Yes…Merlin knew he wouldn't get a chance to strike Arthur down, but…he quite liked this game of pretend he was crafting. It would probably end up being the one thing he could hold onto, if Merlin ended up being a coward once he was faced with Arthur again.

X

Merlin's steps down the stairs that led out of his room and down to the main floor of Gaius' chambers were very slow and measured. His hand firmly set on the railing of the stairs to keep his balance, an odd thing for the boy that would've usually taken the steps two at a time because he thought it would get him down faster, reckless, because the thought of him possibly falling had never occurred to him. Before now…that was. Merlin wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't going to kneel over, but at least he was trying. And that had to count for something…to most people, it would. But the consort did suppose he could be thankful for the little things, at least. It was a proud achievement after all, that Merlin had gotten to the bottom step without turning tail and trying to barricade himself in his room. Making it to the bottom of the staircase might not be anything spectacular, but…baby steps, Merlin figured, was the best way to go.

Gwen was following close behind him, being this standing presence behind him, urging him forward with this steady hand on the base of his spine. Which was probably the only part of his body that wasn't sore or hurt in some way or the other. How lucky for him it was, that Gwen had managed to somehow find that one spot where he wouldn't flinch away from her…Gaius was waiting for them in the direct center of the room. He was standing beside one of the far too many tables he had standing around the room, but it looked as if he had cleaned off a corner of it. As well as cleaned up the mess Merlin mad made when he had first got here, leaving books and bandages and blood all over the place as he tried to fix himself, and Merlin winced. He should probably go and apologize for leaving Gaius with the clean up…the least that Merlin could do for his uncle was clean up when he made a complete disaster zone of his home. But Gaius didn't say a thing about it, removing his hands from where he had been anxiously rearranging the fresh bandages and these pieces of long, smooth wood that was obviously going to be used to fashion him a splint. Gaius did straighten up though when Merlin and Gwen reached the bottom of the staircase but as he turned to face them, Merlin felt his mouth going insanely dry…

Merlin didn't know what to say, as he came to a stop in front of his uncle…Merlin had been completely freaking out earlier in front of him. But now, things were calmer, or they were as calm as they were ever going to be. Merlin's hands twitched almost violently at his side, but he lowered his eyes down to the floor, shifting from foot to foot in his new boots. And the consort could not help but wonder, because Gaius was now staring at him without saying a word, what did the physician think of Merlin in his new clothes. Did Gaius know that he'd only worn them because he knew it was his only chance for survival, that he'd probably be hurt brutally if he decided to go in his normal clothes. Or was his uncle Gaius now seeing him as just another noble, somebody who was willing to sell their soul for a chance of being an esteemed member of the court, if only for a day. Merlin would sell his soul, but he'd at least do it for a means to escape somewhere where he knew he would not be followed by blond haired princes with some kind of agenda that included Merlin staying exactly where it was he was now. Merlin kept his eyes trained on the floor as he brought his good hand up to hold onto his elbow. This is the only behavior he allowed to show that would indicate to somebody how anxious he was…

"…Well!" Gwen said loudly, taking her place beside Merlin as she broke the silence that had been plaguing them. And the handmaiden glanced between the two men in front of her as she recognized…she'd done what she needed too. And this was clearly a family matter now, there was no reason for her to be here to be nosy or listening in. "I think I will just go on ahead and leave now. I'm sure Morgana is going to look for me if I take any longer then she deems necessary." She said with a playful smile, though it probably look strained around the edges. There were some things that Gwen had to do but it had nothing to do with Morgana needing her. She needed to warn Morgana that Merlin was definitely coming, and she might even need to stop her if she was doing something to Arthur that nobody wanted Merlin to see. Merlin was in such a delicate state…there was no telling how he'd react should he walk in on Morgana…berating Arthur or something. And unlike Morgana, neither herself nor Merlin would be allowed to get away with it if they wanted to join in, should the king himself discover what was going on. It would take Merlin a few minutes to get his wrist all fixed up, so she at least had that time to get a head start on Merlin. And speaking of the consort, Gwen turned back to him, and reached out to put a hand on his elbow to get his attention. She waited until the consort lifted his head to meet his eyes with her before she spoke in a gentle tone, "I'll see you in the great hall, yes? As soon as you're all done here…me and Morgana will be at the main table waiting for you, okay?"

Merlin didn't say anything, but he did nod his head and the handmaiden figured that was going to be as good as she'd get, and Gwen sighed heavily to herself. She'd thought for a second there that they were actually getting somewhere in Merlin. But it was as if the second they left the safety of his room, Merlin had retreated back into that little bubble Gwen called depression, keeping himself safe by keeping others-even the ones that cared about him-out. And Gwen wished with a throbbing need to be able to do something more then just 'clean him up' and make him 'look like a consort.' There had to be more that she could do…but Gwen feared that she could do very little other then just being there whenever the consort needed her. And sometimes that worked…some just needed to know somebody was always going to be for them when they were ready. But Gwen wanted to be a bit more…pro-active. Do something she could see happening before her eyes to make a difference…like Merlin had made a huge difference for her.

Gwen may have told Merlin she didn't see him helping her from the cells as some sort of debt that would need to be repaid, may have said she wasn't there helping him now just because she was trying to be even with what he had done for her. But…while she hadn't been there because of what he had done for her, Gwen still saw it as a huge moment in their friendship, she probably always would. Merlin had all but literally reached into the darkest pits of hell, reached his hand into fire-as she could only imagine the king would not have been happy to have been proven wrong about her-and pulled her from the darkness. Merlin had literally been that spot of light, the sun in her moment of weakness that would be there to guide her into the loving arms of her father. And it hurt, an aching hollow in her chest now, to see that Merlin was showing only…apathy, towards his situation. Merlin was content now, the fire she had seen burning upstairs for only a few short moments, was burned out…and Merlin seemed to be content to live with what he was given. Rather then to fight for his right to live in peace…and Gwen hadn't given all her loyalty to a man who was content to live with how things were.

Gwen had given her loyalty to a man that, when he saw that something was wrong, would throw himself into the fire if it meant making things right. Somebody that saw injustice as what was done to her, saw that it wasn't right…and then had declared that in front of the entire council, who could have locked Merlin himself in the cell right next to her if he hadn't the position of consort to protect him from such matters. It wasn't right…and Gwen wanted to be the one that was now screaming because of the injustice being done to her friend. But Gwen was only a maid, and could only stand in the back while watching Morgana fight his battles for him…because somebody needed to fight for Merlin for a change. But she supposed…being loyal to somebody specific was different compared to somebody being born loyal. Gwen's loyalty was to Camelot simply because she was born here, she had not choose her prince or her king. They have been given to her, or her to them more specifically, due to birth. But Gwen-and her father-had chosen Merlin, and there was something that was special in that. A bond Gwen couldn't quite understand herself. But a bond she cherished and wanted to hold on to for as long as she could…and this meant standing directly at Merlin's side. Through the good and the bad, as Merlin had already prove himself willing to do for others.

Something that the king and the prince would have not ever done…lowering themselves to allow a peasant to stand right beside them, instead of behind them as they waited in their rightful place to serve their ruler. Merlin didn't demand to be respected, didn't demand things from other people that the consort would have not done himself. And Gwen obviously knew that this was in part to Merlin being raised among the common people, but it didn't negate that it was a noticeable difference from how Arthur and Uther acted. Hell, it'd been years since the king had walked amongst his people, as the king preferred to stay in his throne where he could look right down his nose at the lessers. And while Arthur would walk in town among the people…it was quite obvious that he'd only be there because he wanted to stir up trouble or try to mess around with people and their businesses. But Merlin was not afraid to walk among them, not afraid to engage and be one of the people. Or at least…he hadn't been. And perhaps that was why Gwen didn't now bow on her way out though Merlin would certainly deserve the respect and so much more, but …friends didn't bow to each other. And that was what Merlin needed more then anything right now. Not a loyal subject to shower him with his great deeds. But a friend, who was not afraid to speak her mind and say something if she thought he'd misspoken. Like how Merlin had assumed she had only been helping him dress because of what he'd done for her in the cells….

But still…Gwen didn't leave the room until the boy gave her another nod, letting her know non-verbally that he'd come looking for them at the main table once he arrived. This was how Gwen knew that he'd be okay without her for a little bit, as he was being passed off to his uncle's loving hands so he could take care of him for a time. If Merlin had been showing any kind of distress with her leaving, Gwen would have been sure about staying with him during his healing process. But Merlin was fine, he was going to be fine…and as the young maid closed the door behind her and started to walk down the hall as fast as she could to find Morgana and let the girl know about the changes that had been made while she had been absent…she held onto that thought with the fierceness of a lioness. Fearing if she let go of it for only a second then it would prove to be a false thought…

…Merlin would be fine, Merlin would be fine, Merlin would be fine…

Because he would have all of them watching over him in the next coming days…

X

As soon as Merlin heard the door closing, the soft click of it echoing throughout the quiet of the chambers, the consort felt as if a large surge of panic suddenly swept through him now that she was out of sight. Merlin had to force himself to stay where he stood, knowing if he took a step to try and go after her, then he wouldn't stop. He would hold onto her for as tight and as long as Gwen would allow him…Merlin had to swallow down the lump in his throat. The lump that told him this was probably going to be the last time he got to see the other girl. But that was just ridiculous, Merlin had to reason out himself…he would see Gwen in a few minutes. He would see both her and Morgana, sitting at the main table…with all the noble guests visiting Camelot this week. Merlin wouldn't get to talk to them again, at least not with the freedom he'd be able to get away with inside these chambers. But…Merlin would at least get to see the girls one last time…even if he'd not be able to tell them that they had made all these weeks more bearable, that he'd only survived this long because the girls had been there to hold him up when he felt as if he had been drowning, but…at least he'd get to see them.

It sounded like a rip off, Merlin would get to be so close with the girls tonight, but it was going to be ruined by the prince sitting next to him. He wouldn't be able to tell them a damn thing that he wanted too, wouldn't be able to tell them some version of…goodbye. Merlin was sad and bitter and lonely…but he'd already made his decision. Merlin didn't know if the right words were going to come to him whenever he ended up face to face with Arthur, but…he did know that he would force Arthur's hand. Tonight, if he could. It was why he had been throwing up so profusely moments before, because he knew that this was going to be the end for him. And weirdly enough…Merlin's main regret seemed to be because he had no chance to say goodbye, no chance to offer himself some kind of closer. There were thousands of things that he knew he regretted…not being able to see his mom one last time or get her that stupid letter Arthur had ripped to pieces in front of his eyes. Not being able to do some actually good with all the magic inside him that had been plaguing him like a curse that followed him endlessly. Not being able to discover what people wanted from him as a consort, and being able to do it as instructed. Not being able to follow the destiny that the dragon said he had…clearly he'd made some kind of mistake when he had called for Merlin that first night.

But those were only the big things, there were smaller little things Merlin knew he would miss that had seemed almost…insignificant, before he knew it would be the last time he'd be able to do it. Like eating his mom's potato soup. Or being able to sit with Gaius and go over his reading lessons to give him the reading level of somebody with noble education-the consort had almost been there too. Not quite up to snuff but close enough that he could've touched it if it was something tangible. There was also eating meals with Morgana, or him just sitting around and watching Gwen sewing something up to patch it. Merlin would miss even simpler things than that …like feeling the sun on his skin, and being able to breath in crisp air as winter started settling in. All those things Merlin had dismissed before things had gotten bad, seemed to be suddenly precious memories that he wanted to hold onto as if it would disappear within a moment's notice. But since the consort hoped to tempt Arthur into using that precious long blade of his-perhaps Arthur could slice him up his belly like he had once done to Valiant-those memories probably were going to fade within a moment's notice. Like the light in his eyes were going to fade, as the blade tore through muscles and meat and vital organs that was meant to keep his body moving…fuck. Merlin had never even gotten the chance to explore his options, read more on Gaius' medical texts that had been fascinating him…see if that was something worth wasting his time on. But, Merlin supposed…it would be good that this was happening now. Because a dead man wouldn't need to know how to patch up a wound or starve off a fever of some kind…

"…Well then," Gaius suddenly cleared his throat loudly, and Merlin's eyes snapped around to face his uncle now that he had gotten his attention. And Merlin was stiff, frozen…all the consort could think about was how Gaius hadn't bothered to look back at him when he'd left his room earlier, when Gaius had left him to be tended to by Gwen. When he had actually disappointed his uncle with his decision to attend the feast tonight. Merlin dropped his gaze to the floor…this was how his uncle was going to remember him after he'd left behind the world that had only existed to hurt him. As some kind of weak and defected boy…as a 'disappointment'. But his uncle did not say a word to try and convince Merlin to change his mind-though Merlin wished he would, maybe he'd be selfish for once and stay where he was wanted if somebody asked him to stay-about going. "Why don't we see what Gwen has gone and done to you. Perhaps I will need to lock you up so that the boys can't get to you if you are going out looking as you do."

Merlin blinked, and frowned heavily before looking down at his own clothes. It was so strange to look down and not see the normal pants, overlarge shirt, and jacket he usually wore …he actually felt naked because he wasn't wearing his usual neckerchief around his neck. But seeing black on black…the clothes actually made him blink for an extra second since he knew it was such a strange sight to see. But Merlin couldn't say that he understood what Gaius meant by…locking Merlin up so that the boys wouldn't come for him? Merlin wouldn't exactly be opposed to being locked up, but only if there was no chance of Arthur being able to get inside of it. But boys…what boys were Gaius talking about. Was this…Merlin's face seemed to drop completely…some kind of cruel joke, where Gaius was making a crude comment about all the rumors he had been plagued with. Being crass by joking about the men who-according to these rumors and being the reason Merlin now sported a mark that was the perfect size and width of Arthur's hand-he'd been running around and going on dates with. But Gaius wasn't that ugly to him. Unless…his uncle meant something completely different and Merlin wasn't sure which one was worse, as the panic of it all started to engulf him again. Perhaps what his uncle really meant was that he looked horrible. So horrible, that he would have a horde of boys-men from the village perhaps, one's who had seen his disgrace at the hands of their own prince-showing up at the door. With plans on beating him up with sticks and pitchforks before Merlin even had a chance to get to meet up with Arthur…beat him to death before he had a chance to embarrass Arthur with his horrible change in outfit. Merlin should just go to his room right now, throw these things out his window, and wear his normal clothes. Yes, that may stop people from trying to burst in Gaius' door so they could get at him…

And…Merlin really needed to stop going back and forth. He was already dressed for the event, so he had to stop himself from trying to convince himself of any reason under the sun to stay home, and just dealing with the consequences of not going when Arthur came for him…

"No, no, no, no, nephew. You are misunderstanding once again and drawing your own conclusions and taking things completely out of context." Gaius said, reaching out to grab Merlin by his good wrist, reading Merlin as easily as anyone may read a book, before he could dart away to hide back in his room. Merlin glanced down at the much larger hand that was encircling his own, and it took a conscious effort before Merlin was able to relax. Gaius wasn't crushing his hand and trying to break it like Arthur had done. He was simply doing what needed to be done so that Merlin wouldn't run…which was exactly what Merlin would have done again. Gaius must have seen the way Merlin's eyes were starting to dart off to his staircase to have reacted so quickly, but maybe the old man was just better prepared now. It wasn't as if this would have been the first time Merlin had ran away from him. Not even the first time he had ran off today. But Gaius continued to talk, as if Merlin running off wasn't as big of a deal as the consort had been making it out to be. "I was simply trying to tell you that…you look beautiful. Anybody would be lucky to have you be the one they get to show off tonight."

The surprise was evident on Merlin's face, his head whipped up to look at his uncle started. That…wasn't true, he thought as he lowered his eyes back down to the ground. There was not a single man alive on the planet that would want to have him, no man that Arthur would hand him off too…unless that man was the knight Arthur had all but thrown him at. Beside that one though…Merlin started to scrape the toe of his new black boot across the floor, feeling the red starting to bloom up the back of his neck and coming to his face. His bruising probably looked way worse with the color of his face trying to bring it out, and he had to wonder if it was too late to get Gwen back in here so she could use her own little version of magic to hide it. Beautiful…that was what Gaius had called it but Merlin certainly didn't 'feel' beautiful. He felt like he was going to end up being a side show freak, just entertainment for the masses if things got to be too boring during all of the proceedings tonight. Gaius was just trying to be nice to him before he had a night through hell, but that was okay, Merlin could appreciate it since it was probably going to be the last time his uncle got the chance to be nice to him. The least he could do was appreciate it, and all that Gaius had done with trying to help him through this. From something like allowing him to live in his home, to cautioning him about when it was and wasn't okay to use his magic, to shielding him from the prince himself the best he could…and the other million little things Merlin had been too selfish to see or notice when he had been living through it…

"No…I'm not beautiful. Not at all." Merlin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at himself. Maybe if he was beautiful, perhaps Arthur wouldn't hate him like he did, since Merlin would at least look the part. And try as he might, Merlin struggled to see what Gaius was telling him …beautiful and Merlin weren't exactly words that were ever meant to go together. Merlin and clumsy, sure. Anybody was able to see that within the first five minutes of meeting him. Merlin and disaster zone…that would have been completely understandable since everywhere Merlin went seemed to go up in some kind of disaster. But beautiful…that was nothing but a joke that wasn't going to land right. And Merlin shook his head with bitterness as a wave of self loathing started to rise inside of him, and he brought his shoulders up hunching together in an attempt to protect his already frail self, "I am dressed up like I am nothing more than an oddly painted doll that is meant for Arthur to toy around with before he throws me away the first chance he gets. But…this is what my own husband wants from me. And as we all know, Arthur will get whatever he wants, whenever he wants it."

This was probably the first time Merlin had ever referred to himself as a 'painted doll' out loud. He usually kept thoughts like that to himself, not wanting to upset other people or not wanting other people to see how messed up in his brain that he was. But that didn't mean it wasn't true, Merlin wasn't all that upset about it anymore either. Perhaps this had been a destiny that was always meant for him, to sit at Arthur's side like the desperate little whore he was. Wearing clothes that made him feel cheap, simply because he knew he wouldn't be wearing them at all if his husband couldn't afford them. It was all perfectly okay. Merlin could even accept that being a 'painted doll' or a 'marionette doll' being tugged all around by its strings, was the best he could have hoped for, coming from a poor peasant such as himself. But this was probably because it seemed so silly for Merlin to be upset with all of this, if he wasn't going to be alive for the next fifty or so odd years being made to endure it. It was hard to be upset about something when Merlin knew it was only going to be for just a little while longer, rather then the eternity it felt like when he imagined the next five decades of his life following more of the same. Merlin felt strangely calm about his impending death, but…it was better then him throwing up again…

"No, Merlin! The prince does not always get what he wants to have just because he demands it to be so!"' Gaius looked as if he was angry with Merlin, snapping loudly while he had his face turning a disturbing shade of red, like it'd been after Gaius had first seen his injuries. But Merlin couldn't imagine why he would be so angry, it wasn't like Merlin wasn't telling the truth like it was. Perhaps after Merlin was dead, Merlin's uncle would be able to think with a clearer head. Maybe like Gwen and Morgana, Gaius would be sad for a day or two-he could only hope he had been worth something to the people he cared about to be afforded at least that much mourning time-but then he would see that Merlin's death was going to be for the best. Merlin shouldn't have been selfish for trying to stay alive all this time anyway. Not when others had been exhausting themselves trying to care for him when he could have just…taken the plunge already. And find out first hand if people born with magic went to hell the same way that a serial murderer might. "And just because Arthur demands a thing from you, does not mean you have to listen to him. He does not control you just because he is your husband! Trust me when I say that you have every right to deny him. Hell, it would probably do that boy some good to be told 'no' once in a while. And just because your parents made a deal years ago, does not mean you have to be Arthur's…painted up doll …now."

Merlin only looked at his uncle blandly…his little speech had been nice, but not enough to fool Merlin into thinking he had any rights or any autonomy or any authority when it came to Arthur. He'd already tried things that way, god knows he had tried things that way. Arthur didn't like being corrected, and he didn't like being told 'no' or 'he's wrong' as Gaius said to him. Maybe somebody much stronger then Merlin would be able to get through to Arthur someday, but Merlin knew that it was not going to be him. All Merlin could do was listen on to all of Arthur's demands but there was only so many times Merlin could fail at them before just giving up on even trying to do better. But of course, Gaius had the luxury of thinking what Arthur wanted didn't matter, but Merlin had the bruise on his face and fractured wrist at his side that would've said otherwise. Gaius had the luxury of thinking his parents deal with Uther didn't mean a damn thing, because Gaius hadn't been kidnapped from his home. Taken across the forest and into an entirely new land he'd never seen before. And being forced to marry a complete sadist, because the king refused to ignore some crumbling old paper that had sat around in a vault somewhere for twenty odd years. So yes, the contract his parents had made with Uther's, basically selling his soul just because they had been naive enough to trust the wrong people to take care of him…was the literal epicenter of all he felt had gone wrong in his life since Leon and his two weird knights had shown up on his doorstep.

"…Try looking at the contract with all their signatures on it, and this ring on my finger, and saying that again." Said the consort in an incredibly dry tone, holding up his not broken wrist so that the silver ring tying him to Arthur could start to glimmer under the candlelight's. Gaius narrowed his eyes on the ring, and felt an unbecoming sneer starting to take over his expression. The only thing Gaius wanted to do was force that ring off of Merlin, look the little dragon in that little eye it had and 'know' that the dragon ring did not make his own nephew a member of the Pendragon family. Gaius wanted to have the thing thrown in the gutter where it belonged. But…most people probably would have sold it. It would have been a good investment to get Merlin a better start in life. Where he could get enough gold that he could take care of himself for an entire lifetime, without Arthur ever being involved in it again. He'd get even more if the man he sold it too was fully aware that there were only one other ring like the one that Merlin was giving to him in the entire world. Merlin could've easily used the money to get smuggled out of the city long before Arthur even knew he was gone…perhaps Merlin saw the disgusted expression on his face, the way he wanted to hurl that ring-the money be damned, because he could take care of his nephew on his own-out the window, because he quickly lowered his hand back down to the side. And after a moment, Merlin sighed and said heavily, "Just face it, Uncle Gaius. I am not, nor will I ever be Arthur's husband. I am his property. You can sell it or trash it. You can dress it up if you prefer or leave it to rot in the gutter. You can even kick and scream at it because it isn't worth anything. But the one and only thing Arthur can't say is that he doesn't own me."

Merlin lowered his eyes down to the floor, a delusional but almost wistful expression coming to his face. The sad part of this was…Merlin didn't think he would have minded being owned. Because it meant that he belonged to somebody out there, because there was somebody else who would want to keep him. Somebody that Merlin could curl up with beside a warm hearth, somebody who would wrap their arm around his shoulder and pull him in close. Somebody who would've taken care of him, because they knew that Merlin would be more then willing to take care of them as well. A partnership kind of ownership, where either of them were able to claim the other as their own. It was a nice dream, Merlin thought as he remembered his reality, his eyes turning downcast but it was all it was. Nothing more than a dream, just something else that Merlin would never be able to experience having to himself. Merlin would just have to be okay with that, it's not as if sticking around for any length of time longer was going to change what his life was. He wasn't going to have a man show up and battle the prince in some kind of swords fight for the right to have Merlin. It was just him, and Merlin had already decided on what needed to be done to make all the pain stop.

"…You need to sit." Gaius said, his voice clipped, as the older man gestured down towards the supplies spread out along the table that would fix up Merlin's injuries. Merlin glanced up at him, and nodded, before taking his seat. He was not surprised that Gaius was angry with what he sad, the young boy thought as he was rolling up his sleeve so that his uncle could get to the fracture easier, but it was also something that needed to be said. Merlin didn't exactly have anything left to lose by saying what he wanted to say…he might as well enjoy the free rein he had to talk before he was face to face with Arthur.

Where his next words would most likely be his last…