Of Masks and Feathers for agenttrojie
Title: Of Masks and Feathers
Author: adeina_rhyddha
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1550~
Disclaimer: They belong to the BBC and Shine. *sadface*
Summary/prompt: For agenttrojie. Victorian AU, set at Morgana's Beltane masquerade party.
Beltane.
Morgana took any and every excuse to throw a party, and this was no exception. Though why she had decided it had to be a masquerade party was beyond Arthur - the mask made his face too hot in the sticky, summer heat.
People were milling around, dancing and sipping the champagne that was on offer. Arthur wasn’t sure who most people were, what with faces hidden behind masks. He was sure everyone knew him, because of the distinctive golden hair atop his head, and the bright blue eyes that peered out from behind his simple red and gold mask. He knew Morgana, looking resplendent in a peacock blue gown and a mask with a peacock feather on it, and he knew Guinevere, who was following her around. But past that, Arthur didn’t know. Everyone started to look the same after a while.
It was then that Morgana materialised, coming at him out of nowhere in that rather startling way she had, and the peacock feather on her mask hit Arthur in the face, making him splutter and twist to get away from it.
“Arthur! I found a man I like, but he does not know how to dance!” Morgana informed him. Arthur blinked down at her, golden lashes just missing the eye-holes of his mask.
“I suppose you want me to go and find him and teach him how to dance, then?” Arthur asked, his voice long suffering. Just because he was a good dancer, Morgana expected him to teach every useless person they came across.
“That would be lovely. Thank you for offering,” Morgana smiled. “He went outside.”
Arthur sighed, rolled his eyes and headed for the doors. There was just no arguing with his sister, and in the long run it was better to have her happy than to have her annoyed. Morgana was a force to be reckoned with when she was annoyed.
And besides, Arthur wanted to make sure this man Morgana had met was good enough for her. If he wasn’t, then he’d scare him off. If he was, he just had to make sure he could take care of him if he hurt Morgana.
Arthur stepped outside and expelled a breath in relief. It was slightly cooler outside in the night air. It was not cool enough for Arthur to feel completely relieved, but it was much less sticky than in the ballroom with all the bodies crushed so close together, and that was something to be thankful for. Arthur felt like he could finally breathe.
He realised that he had no idea what this man looked like, and that this might cause a slight problem when it came to locating said man. With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Arthur started walking through the grounds of the Pendragon estate, the full moon blanching all colour from the garden and rendering it black and white and every shade of grey in between. When he was younger, Arthur had found it creepy. Now, he found it rather soothing, especially after the bright colours of the party.
Arthur took the meandering path towards the pond at the top of the grounds. It was refreshing out here. The sun had not long set, and some of the warmth from it still lingered, so the night was very pleasant. Stars were scattered carelessly across the velvet sky, and Arthur craned his head back to look at them, sparkling down at them, watching over them.
Beltane indeed. Summer was definitely upon them.
“And this is for my brother!”
Arthur recognised that voice, and he stopped. There was a small copse of trees to his left, and there were the feral sounds of a struggle coming from within it. A harsh thump and a soft groan emanated, and Arthur realised it was a fight.
It only took him a moment before he was heading into the trees.
He saw a group of men crowded around a prone figure on the ground. They were kicking at the man - for he was a man, there was no doubt about that - and he was groaning softly.
“Hey! Hey, leave him alone!” Arthur called, striding into the clearing.
He saw that Owain was there, one of his friends. His mask was the only one that had been discarded, or maybe it had been torn off, Arthur wasn’t sure. Six pairs of eyes registered him standing there, and noted that Arthur could probably take all of them with minimal effort.
“Sorry,” they all mumbled, and then they scarped, Owain scooping up his mask on the way. Arthur narrowed his eyes at his friend, who at least had the decency to look ashamed.
“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, kneeling next to the man. He was skinny and long, clearly in no shape to fight back.
“I think so,” he groaned, sitting up slowly. His hair was dark as the sky above their heads, his skin pale, and his eyes, in the moonlight, looked silver, like the mask on his face. Arthur wondered what colour they were normally.
“They’re idiots,” Arthur said amiably, sitting down next to the man.
“Yeah, they are,” the man agreed, adjusting his mask and sighing. “Thank you, though.”
Arthur turned his head and smiled at him. The man smiled back, and his silver eyes sparkled.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
They sat in silence for a while, but it was not awkward. Far from it - Arthur felt more comfortable with this stranger than he had in the room with people he knew.
“Why?” the man asked after a while. His voice was barely even a whisper, but it sounded loud in the silence.
“Why?” Arthur questioned, looking at the man in confusion.
“Why did you rescue me?”
“Because…I don’t know. Because I don’t agree that a fight is the best way to settle an argument. Why were they…you know…” Arthur waved his hands around for emphasis. “Picking on you,” he finally settled on.
“Because I kissed Owain’s brother,” the man said slowly, cautious.
“Lancelot?” Arthur asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Lancelot,” the man said softly.
“You know that homosexuality is a sin?”
“Yes. So do you.”
Arthur looked at him. There was a sly smile tugging the corners of the man’s full lips upwards.
“Lancelot told you, I suppose?” Arthur asked.
“You suppose correctly,” the man said.
“So you know who I am.”
“Arthur Pendragon.”
“Yet I do not know who you are.”
“Names are not important.”
Arthur peered at him, this strange, pale man with the silver eyes. His eyelashes were long and thick and dark, and they fanned over the eye-holes of his mask when he blinked or looked down and bit his bottom lip, like he was doing now. Even in the dark, Arthur could see the blush on his face.
“My name is Merlin,” the man said.
“Merlin.”
Arthur rolled the unfamiliar name off his tongue. It was different. Strange. It sounded quite nice rolling off his tongue. The man - Merlin - was looking at him oddly, a little shyly from beneath his mask. Arthur lifted his hands to rest his fingers gently at the edges. When Merlin made no sign that it wasn’t okay, Arthur slowly removed the mask from his face.
He was incredibly pretty, with sharp cheekbones and rather ludicrous ears. He blinked at Arthur, eyelashes casting long, delicate shadows across his soaring cheekbones. Arthur tore his own mask off and Merlin smiled.
“You didn’t need to do that. I know what you look like,” he said. It was Arthur’s turn to smile.
“I know. But it is not my fault that Lancelot is so loose lipped. And besides, it was too hot,” Arthur said. Merlin chuckled.
“His lips did not feel so loose to me,” he said. Arthur almost choked.
“Well. I suppose not,” he admitted.
They sat in silence for many long moments, each one stretching endlessly into the next. It was comfortable, a soft kind of silence that Arthur was perfectly content to let linger.
“Would you like to come home with me?” Merlin asked suddenly. Arthur turned to look at him, and now he could even feel the heat emanating from the other man, he was blushing so hard.
“Would I…?” he started.
“For tea,” Merlin quickly amended.
“Would I like to go home with you for tea?” Arthur asked.
“Yes?” Merlin said meekly.
Arthur stood up then, and Merlin lowered his head, ashamed of his boldness. He played absently with his mask, twirling it in his fingers. After a few moments, he realised Arthur was still there and he raised his head slowly. Arthur was standing with a hand extended towards him, smiling lightly.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said.
And if he pressed Merlin down against the padded seats of his carriage on the way to his house, well, no one saw.
And if he slammed the door shut behind them and pushed Merlin just as roughly against the wall, well, no one saw that either.
And Arthur got to see that Merlin’s eyes were blue. Very, very blue.
Author: adeina_rhyddha
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1550~
Disclaimer: They belong to the BBC and Shine. *sadface*
Summary/prompt: For agenttrojie. Victorian AU, set at Morgana's Beltane masquerade party.
Beltane.
Morgana took any and every excuse to throw a party, and this was no exception. Though why she had decided it had to be a masquerade party was beyond Arthur - the mask made his face too hot in the sticky, summer heat.
People were milling around, dancing and sipping the champagne that was on offer. Arthur wasn’t sure who most people were, what with faces hidden behind masks. He was sure everyone knew him, because of the distinctive golden hair atop his head, and the bright blue eyes that peered out from behind his simple red and gold mask. He knew Morgana, looking resplendent in a peacock blue gown and a mask with a peacock feather on it, and he knew Guinevere, who was following her around. But past that, Arthur didn’t know. Everyone started to look the same after a while.
It was then that Morgana materialised, coming at him out of nowhere in that rather startling way she had, and the peacock feather on her mask hit Arthur in the face, making him splutter and twist to get away from it.
“Arthur! I found a man I like, but he does not know how to dance!” Morgana informed him. Arthur blinked down at her, golden lashes just missing the eye-holes of his mask.
“I suppose you want me to go and find him and teach him how to dance, then?” Arthur asked, his voice long suffering. Just because he was a good dancer, Morgana expected him to teach every useless person they came across.
“That would be lovely. Thank you for offering,” Morgana smiled. “He went outside.”
Arthur sighed, rolled his eyes and headed for the doors. There was just no arguing with his sister, and in the long run it was better to have her happy than to have her annoyed. Morgana was a force to be reckoned with when she was annoyed.
And besides, Arthur wanted to make sure this man Morgana had met was good enough for her. If he wasn’t, then he’d scare him off. If he was, he just had to make sure he could take care of him if he hurt Morgana.
Arthur stepped outside and expelled a breath in relief. It was slightly cooler outside in the night air. It was not cool enough for Arthur to feel completely relieved, but it was much less sticky than in the ballroom with all the bodies crushed so close together, and that was something to be thankful for. Arthur felt like he could finally breathe.
He realised that he had no idea what this man looked like, and that this might cause a slight problem when it came to locating said man. With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Arthur started walking through the grounds of the Pendragon estate, the full moon blanching all colour from the garden and rendering it black and white and every shade of grey in between. When he was younger, Arthur had found it creepy. Now, he found it rather soothing, especially after the bright colours of the party.
Arthur took the meandering path towards the pond at the top of the grounds. It was refreshing out here. The sun had not long set, and some of the warmth from it still lingered, so the night was very pleasant. Stars were scattered carelessly across the velvet sky, and Arthur craned his head back to look at them, sparkling down at them, watching over them.
Beltane indeed. Summer was definitely upon them.
“And this is for my brother!”
Arthur recognised that voice, and he stopped. There was a small copse of trees to his left, and there were the feral sounds of a struggle coming from within it. A harsh thump and a soft groan emanated, and Arthur realised it was a fight.
It only took him a moment before he was heading into the trees.
He saw a group of men crowded around a prone figure on the ground. They were kicking at the man - for he was a man, there was no doubt about that - and he was groaning softly.
“Hey! Hey, leave him alone!” Arthur called, striding into the clearing.
He saw that Owain was there, one of his friends. His mask was the only one that had been discarded, or maybe it had been torn off, Arthur wasn’t sure. Six pairs of eyes registered him standing there, and noted that Arthur could probably take all of them with minimal effort.
“Sorry,” they all mumbled, and then they scarped, Owain scooping up his mask on the way. Arthur narrowed his eyes at his friend, who at least had the decency to look ashamed.
“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, kneeling next to the man. He was skinny and long, clearly in no shape to fight back.
“I think so,” he groaned, sitting up slowly. His hair was dark as the sky above their heads, his skin pale, and his eyes, in the moonlight, looked silver, like the mask on his face. Arthur wondered what colour they were normally.
“They’re idiots,” Arthur said amiably, sitting down next to the man.
“Yeah, they are,” the man agreed, adjusting his mask and sighing. “Thank you, though.”
Arthur turned his head and smiled at him. The man smiled back, and his silver eyes sparkled.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
They sat in silence for a while, but it was not awkward. Far from it - Arthur felt more comfortable with this stranger than he had in the room with people he knew.
“Why?” the man asked after a while. His voice was barely even a whisper, but it sounded loud in the silence.
“Why?” Arthur questioned, looking at the man in confusion.
“Why did you rescue me?”
“Because…I don’t know. Because I don’t agree that a fight is the best way to settle an argument. Why were they…you know…” Arthur waved his hands around for emphasis. “Picking on you,” he finally settled on.
“Because I kissed Owain’s brother,” the man said slowly, cautious.
“Lancelot?” Arthur asked, surprised.
“Yeah. Lancelot,” the man said softly.
“You know that homosexuality is a sin?”
“Yes. So do you.”
Arthur looked at him. There was a sly smile tugging the corners of the man’s full lips upwards.
“Lancelot told you, I suppose?” Arthur asked.
“You suppose correctly,” the man said.
“So you know who I am.”
“Arthur Pendragon.”
“Yet I do not know who you are.”
“Names are not important.”
Arthur peered at him, this strange, pale man with the silver eyes. His eyelashes were long and thick and dark, and they fanned over the eye-holes of his mask when he blinked or looked down and bit his bottom lip, like he was doing now. Even in the dark, Arthur could see the blush on his face.
“My name is Merlin,” the man said.
“Merlin.”
Arthur rolled the unfamiliar name off his tongue. It was different. Strange. It sounded quite nice rolling off his tongue. The man - Merlin - was looking at him oddly, a little shyly from beneath his mask. Arthur lifted his hands to rest his fingers gently at the edges. When Merlin made no sign that it wasn’t okay, Arthur slowly removed the mask from his face.
He was incredibly pretty, with sharp cheekbones and rather ludicrous ears. He blinked at Arthur, eyelashes casting long, delicate shadows across his soaring cheekbones. Arthur tore his own mask off and Merlin smiled.
“You didn’t need to do that. I know what you look like,” he said. It was Arthur’s turn to smile.
“I know. But it is not my fault that Lancelot is so loose lipped. And besides, it was too hot,” Arthur said. Merlin chuckled.
“His lips did not feel so loose to me,” he said. Arthur almost choked.
“Well. I suppose not,” he admitted.
They sat in silence for many long moments, each one stretching endlessly into the next. It was comfortable, a soft kind of silence that Arthur was perfectly content to let linger.
“Would you like to come home with me?” Merlin asked suddenly. Arthur turned to look at him, and now he could even feel the heat emanating from the other man, he was blushing so hard.
“Would I…?” he started.
“For tea,” Merlin quickly amended.
“Would I like to go home with you for tea?” Arthur asked.
“Yes?” Merlin said meekly.
Arthur stood up then, and Merlin lowered his head, ashamed of his boldness. He played absently with his mask, twirling it in his fingers. After a few moments, he realised Arthur was still there and he raised his head slowly. Arthur was standing with a hand extended towards him, smiling lightly.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said.
And if he pressed Merlin down against the padded seats of his carriage on the way to his house, well, no one saw.
And if he slammed the door shut behind them and pushed Merlin just as roughly against the wall, well, no one saw that either.
And Arthur got to see that Merlin’s eyes were blue. Very, very blue.