(no subject)
Title: King and Country
Pairing: Arthur x Merlin
Fandom: Merlin BBC
Rating: PG-13 for cross dressing and boys kissing
Disclaimer: No slander, libel, or copyright infringement is intended in the writing of this fic.
Summary: Merlin has to stand in for Lady Morgana
Notes: In the same day there was Merlin in a veil, Merlin in a corset, and Merlin knocked up. So, basically, I blame fandom for Merlin crossdressing. Also, I am aware Morgana and Merlin don't look too much alike, but humor me. And I am aware that Igraine is not Morgana's aunt in the legends, but if the BBC can fuck with the legends, so can I.
This was so not his problem, Merlin thought, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw as Gwen heaved the laces tighter yet. He glanced over to the bed where Morgana lay, alabaster complexion pallid and sickly. She truly did look a sight. But it still wasn't his fault, and yet he was the one being punished. Because the Lady Morgana was so bloody in love she couldn't keep her legs closed, and now she was in a family way. Which meant she had to be kept out of sight. Which somehow, had led to his having to impersonate the Lady Morgana. He gasped sharply as Gwen heaved again, the stiff stays clinching around his middle.
"That will have to do," Gwen said breathlessly, "if I lace him in any tighter I'm afraid the seams will come loose". Merlin would have laughed if he had the air to breathe properly. "Try him in one of my older gowns first," Morgana ordered weakly, "until he gets used to walking in a gown, he'll ruin the hems". And again, somehow this was his fault? He would have sighed, if he could draw the breath for it. "Easy," Gwen said comfortingly, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and he tried, but the room was already spinning. "Quick," Morgana said, realizing the trouble, "unlace him a bit Gwen, or he'll pass out. He isn't used to stays, you won't be able to tight-lace him the first few days. Put out that I'm not well, it's the truth after all, and no one will really notice if Merlin is often to my chambers to deliver medicine, or if I don't look or act quite right."
She turned to Merlin. "Three hours a day," she ordered, "you'll come and we'll work on getting you ready. You have to be ready by next month's visit from the Princess of the Western Isle". He nodded only slightly, his vision still swimming a bit. "Put him in my starter stays," Morgana ordered next, "not too tight, just to get used to them". Gwen nodded, deftly unlacing the more restrictive stays that Merlin currently wore. He gasped for air when she took them off, slumping bonelessly against the post of the bed he had been gripping for support. After the stays Morgana wore currently, the starter stays were practically comfortable. They weren't of course, they were still baleen and twill and laces, crushing his innards into the wrong places, but not quite as out of place as the first stays, and really, this was on Uther of all people's orders, so there was no getting out of it.
"Alright," Morgana murmured, eyeing him critically, "that will have to do for now. And remember, not a word to Arthur. We'll have to think of something to tell him for when you take my place as well. For now, no hair cuts, not too much sun, and here, every afternoon, as soon as lunch is finished". Merlin nodded and bowed slightly. "Curtsey," Morgana ordered, and Merlin paled, then flushed. "I don't know how," he said in a soft, startled voice, and Morgana looked pointedly at Gwen. "It's not difficult," the handmaiden promised, "like this". She demonstrated, and after a few moments, Merlin could at least manage a rough attempt without falling over. "Good enough for today," Morgana sighed, and Merlin hurried away, forced to walk with stiffer, smaller steps than normal due to the stays tightened around his middle.
The next few weeks were incredibly awkward for Merlin. He had his regular duties for Arthur, who was being kept in the dark regarding the entire matter, as well as what he came to at least mentally term his "princess lessons". Every afternoon between lunch and tea he would report to Morgana's rooms under the pretext of caring for her in her sickness. While there, he would be laced into the tighter stays and one of her older gowns, and made to sit, stand, walk, talk and dance. When Arthur asked about Merlin's shaggier than usual hair, he said that Gwen liked it like that. When Arthur asked if he had lost weight, Merlin replied that his appetite had been a bit off, worried over Lady Morgana's health. When Arthur asked if Morgana really needed him three hours a day, Merlin simply shrugged, and Arthur went off in a huff to the lists.
Towards the end of the month, Merlin started going out in public as Morgana. Gwen was always with him, and they continued the charade of Lady Morgana being ill. Merlin and Gwen would just take short walks in the gardens, Merlin leaning heavily on the handmaiden, as if he were weak after a long sickness. A week before the delegation from the Western Isle was due to arrive, Merlin took his leave of Arthur. He pled his own illness, and it was believable, because he was paler than he once had been, more slender. So by day Merlin left through one gate, and by night returned through another. Gwen met him, cast one of Morgana's more voluminous cloaks over his shoulders, and their charade began in earnest.
"Morgana" wasn't seen by Arthur until the night before their visitors arrived, and he noticed that something was off, but everyone knew she had been sick, and he didn't quite manage to go speak to her, just watched her move weakly from across the room. Her voice was husky with sickness still, her motions far less graceful than normal. He saw little of her the next week either, for she was often occupied with her good friend the Princess of the Western Isle. When he did see her, it was from across the room, and he soon got the feeling that she was avoiding him. It seemed as if every time he caught her eye and then started toward her, she would find some other place to be.
The annoyance of being ignored by the closest thing he had to a family of his own age was more than he would have anticipated. That slow burning frustration was only compounded however, by the idiocy of the dolt that had replaced Merlin as his manservant. Merlin wasn't the best servant really, but he more than made up for it by entertaining Arthur, and the new boy was not only twice as clumsy, he was less than half as interesting. Which meant that Arthur sacked the new servant after a week, and the next one within a few days.
Morgana kept avoiding him even after the delegation from the Western Isle left, but at least visibly improved, her motions returning to their usual sure grace, her voice regaining it's smooth, tinkling quality. Slowly, as the months passed, Morgana warmed back up to him, and they returned to their usual bantering ways. At the tournaments he was once again her champion, and at the feasts and balls, her escort. Still the feeling that something wasn't quite right persisted, but other than going through a new and dissatisfactory servant every few days, he couldn't pin point a single thing wrong.
"Gwen tells me you've dismissed another servant," Morgana commented idly one night as they sat in front of the fire, playing chess. He looked up at her, struck, as he had been recently, but the generous curve of her mouth. "He was not satisfactory," Arthur said shortly, not really wishing to speak of it. "I believe you haven't kept a single manservant for more than a week since that last one, oh, what's his name-" she pursed her lips and Arthur hurriedly said, "Merlin. His name was Merlin". Morgana smiled. "Yes, Merlin, of course, none of them have lasted more than a week since he ran off. I'd think you actually missed the boy".
Arthur felt his face heat, and he sputtered awkwardly for a moment. "It's nothing," he covered hurriedly, "it just seems none of the servants they send me know anything. I haven't the time to train someone as to my wants and needs". Morgana nodded slightly, but Arthur could see the laughter sparking in her blue eyes and curling at the corners of her mouth. "You do look especially lovely tonight," he said abruptly, and they quickly looked away from one another, both of them blushing heatedly. "It's kind of you to say so," Morgana said softly, her voice low and husky with emotion, eyes still lowered demurely.
The Prince took the moment to really look at her. Strands of her dark hair were coming loose from the chignon she wore it pulled back in to frame her face, her normally pale skin lit golden from the fire and flushed pink along the apples of her cheeks. Her thick dark lashes lay against her cheeks, hiding her luminous blue grey eyes. Her neck curved elegantly into the high collar of her midnight blue gown, gossamer silver veiling laying over the crown of her head and shoulders. Since she had returned to health the styles had changed, and he couldn't help but wonder how she would look in one of the lower cut gowns popular a few months back, the cream of her shoulder contrasting starkly with the velvet of her gown.
"I mean it," Arthur said, and his own voice sounded low and gruff in his ears. "I was worried for you when you took ill Morgana, and since then, I have found - I have found how truly I enjoy your company. I cannot help but notice, despite that, that you are also a woman". Morgana blushed more furiously, delicate fingers clasped trembling on her knee. "Forgive me," Arthur said hurriedly, "I did not mean to disturb you". He stood, and she looked up sharply, her hand instantly on his wrist. "Don't go," she said, voice still soft and low, and he could see tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. He nodded dumbly, reaching down to cup her cheek with one palm, thumbing away the tears gently. She shook again, burying her face in his hand, kissing the palm quickly.
Arthur gasped sharply at the intimacy. It was what he desired, and yet he hadn't dared to hope. Gently he reached down with his other hand, pulling her up by the waist. He could feel the stiff boning of her stays beneath the thick velvet of her gown, and his breath suddenly caught in his chest as his mind flew ahead to imagine her stripped to her stays and small clothes, pale and slim against his sheets. He leaned in and kissed her mouth roughly, and she gasped against him, hands fisting in his tunic. "Arthur," she breathed gently against his face, "we mustn't". He knew he ought to agree, ought to respect her wishes. But he couldn't. Not when she tasted like spiced wine and roasted apples. He kissed her again, teasing her lips open with his tongue, and this time, she melted obligingly against him.
"We mustn't," she protested weakly when they parted, but her head lay against his shoulder, her trim waist still trapped in the circle of his hands. He gently brushed his fingers along the curve of her cheek, breathing in the scent of her perfume, sweet and spicy. "Uther will not like it," Arthur admitted, "but I will not have anyone but you, Morgana". She let out a single low sob, wrenching herself from his arms and nearly running from the room. He stared after her confusedly. Promising undying devotion usually didn't get that sort of reaction, in his rather limited experience. He furrowed his brow in displeasure, wishing more than ever that Merlin were there. The servant might not be any help in the matter, but he would at least come up with some ridiculous thing to take Arthur's mind off it.
In the morning, Morgana did not come down to break her fast. After a bit of internal debating, he went to her quarters. The door swung open at his touch, and he stared blankly at the seat she usually occupied. "The Lady Morgana?" He inquired of the first guard he came across and the man straightened slightly. "Departed through the north gate this morning 'ere dawn," the guard said, "to visit the Lady Igraine of Tintagel". Arthur nodded, confusion muddling his mind. Igraine often sent for Morgana, she was Morgana's aunt after all, but Morgana had not mentioned it the night before. Arthur's stomach dropped painfully. They must have been discovered. Someone had told Uther of their kiss, and the King had decided to separate them.
Arthur hurried back to his own quarters, shouting for his servant as soon as he approached. Quickly he was bear arms and armor, heavy traveling cloak around his shoulders. As soon as a pack was prepared, he was off for the stables, calling for his horse to be saddled by the time he arrived. It all happened so quickly that there was no time for the guards to react, and then Arthur was clattering out of the city, racing for Tintagel. A single man on horseback easily made better time than a carriage, and by noon he had them in sight. Rather to his surprise, Morgana rode ahead of the carriage, veiled against the elements. Gwen rode at her side, their flanks protected by a retinue of the household knights. He spurred his horse on, easily outpacing them.
When Morgana spotted him, her eyes widened almost comically. She leaned across to Gwen though, and then the two women were whipping up their mounts, leaning low and close to the mares' necks. Tired after the long journey, Arthur's mount couldn't pace theirs, and they soon disappeared over to horizon. The carriage continued at it's sedate pace, flanked by the knights, the wagon of supplies trailing behind. Arthur rode with them a ways, but Morgana and Gwen did not return, and so finally he gave up. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, and if Morgana so wished to avoid him, there was nothing he could do. Hurt and dejected more than he cared to think on, Arthur turned his horse for Camelot.
By the time a week had passed, Arthur was certain that no one was the wiser. Igraine had simply wished to see Morgana urgently. After all, Uther would have reprimanded him if he knew. So he again prepared to travel, this time packing for a slightly longer journey. Lady Igraine would not begrudge him hospitality, and he did not mean to return to Camelot until Morgana agreed to return with him, as his royal wife. He grinned to himself, mentally undressing her. He wondered absently if she would be that same shade of alabaster all over, or if her chest and slender waist would be paler yet. He rode tirelessly, stopping only to rest the horse as he made for Tintagel once more.
The court of Tintagel was empty when he arrived, and he hurried into the castle. Lady Igraine had never kept much staff, but the keep was just as desolate, and he unsheathed his sword warily, creeping up into the palace proper. On the second floor, he heard a woman's unearthly scream, and he was certain it was Morgana. He burst into motion, racing through the halls. The bloodcurdling cry came again, and he poured on more speed. Crashing through the door, sword at the ready, he came to a sudden confused halt.
Morgana lay sweating on the bed, stripped to her sheer chemise. A mewling infant was curled to her breast, still wet and red with birth. Lady Igraine, Gwen, and a girl who could have doubled for Morgana crowded the bed, and Arthur stared. Morgana, for he was certain the one with the child was Morgana was as he remembered her from before her sickness, the same high brow and ice cold eyes, the same rose red lips and long black curls. And now he saw that the woman he had professed his love to, the woman he had kissed, had not been Morgana at all. His sword clattered to the floor.
The girl looked up at him from beneath long dark lashes, eyes the blue grey of the sea. For the first time Arthur's mind fully processed the double. The hair was darker than Morgana's, and shorter, not even fully shoulder length, although Arthur had never really seen it loose before. The nose was stronger, more aquiline, the cheeks higher and hollowed, the jaw stronger as well. Arthur's eyes followed the curve of the strong jaw into the curve of the pale neck, stopping at the unavoidable knob of an Adam's apple. The rest clicked into place. The broad shoulders and slender hips, the height and moments of gracelessness, the low rasp of Morgana's voice at times over the past months.
"Merlin?" He asked rather stupidly, and the double lowered her, his eyes and curtseyed. His breath caught in his chest, and he crossed the room, grasping Merlin roughly by the arm. For the first time, those blue eyes truly flashed at him, and he hated himself that he could have been fooled so easily. He crushed their mouths together, and for a moment, Merlin didn't respond, just stood there, stiff and awkward in his arms. But then Merlin let out a low groan of pleasure and sagged against him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Arthur panted for air when they parted, staring not-quite-comprehendingly at the jeweled drop earring threaded through a hole in Merlin's ear, bright as blood against his pale skin and dark hair.
"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured softly against Arthur's neck, and his voice was still higher than Arthur remembered it, breathless. Arthur tightened his arm around Merlin's waist, the stiff boning of the stays reminding him of the months of loneliness. He pulled away, looking over Merlin with this new knowledge. And yet, after these months of training, after these ignorant months of wanting, he cannot help but see more than a little of Morgana in Merlin. It is in the way he only meets Arthur's eyes through his thick lashes, the curve of his neck and the way he clasps his hands together at his waist. "You are so beautiful," he breathed out, and Merlin blushed hotly. Morgana and Gwen laughed softly, reminding Arthur that he and Merlin are not alone, and the three women smiled at him conspiratorially.
In his mind, Arthur could now perfectly imagine Merlin stripped to his stays, in a way he had never quite been able to manage when he thought it was Morgana in his arms. The idea of the boy who had once served him, splayed on his sheets, pale and slender, was almost too much to bear. "Merlin," he breathed, and Merlin finally looked him full in the eye, and Arthur could see the naked want there, desire burning pure and dark in Merlin's eyes. "I'm yours Arthur," Merlin said, in that same breathless tone, "in any way you will have me". Arthur nearly groaned in arousal, reaching again for the serving boy's waist, pulling him close.
Merlin's hands came up to Arthur's chest, and again Merlin peered at Arthur from beneath lowered lashes. "I would marry you in a heartbeat," Arthur confessed softly, leaning in to kiss Merlin soft and chaste, "and yet I know this scheme could not have been possible without my father's knowledge". Merlin nodded, eyes still lowered. "Now that the child has come, I will return to my duties," Morgana said softly, "Merlin may return to his if he wishes, with no one any the wiser". Arthur looked at her, nodding in acceptance. He looked back at Merlin. "Will you?" He asked, and Merlin looked up sharply, again meeting his eyes fully. Now Merlin's eyes sparked steely fire, and Arthur grinned, then again pulled Merlin close for a deep kiss.
Three weeks later, the carriage left Tintagel for Camelot. The Prince and his Manservant rode ahead, Ladies Morgana and Igraine, their handmaiden Gwen, and Gwen's adopted daughter rode in the carriage. Arthur found himself staring as intently at Merlin as he had at "Morgana". The wind lifted strands of long black hair from Merlin's face and neck where it had come loose from it's tail. His waist was still small, his figure changed by the long months in a woman's garments. But his stride was smooth and graceful, and he sat the horse with ease. Arthur's eyes followed the sloping shoulders down to slender, delicate hands, and he imagined again Merlin in his bed, this time entirely naked, skin nearly as pale as the sheets, limbed with gold from the candles and hearth. The Prince smiled.
Pairing: Arthur x Merlin
Fandom: Merlin BBC
Rating: PG-13 for cross dressing and boys kissing
Disclaimer: No slander, libel, or copyright infringement is intended in the writing of this fic.
Summary: Merlin has to stand in for Lady Morgana
Notes: In the same day there was Merlin in a veil, Merlin in a corset, and Merlin knocked up. So, basically, I blame fandom for Merlin crossdressing. Also, I am aware Morgana and Merlin don't look too much alike, but humor me. And I am aware that Igraine is not Morgana's aunt in the legends, but if the BBC can fuck with the legends, so can I.
This was so not his problem, Merlin thought, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw as Gwen heaved the laces tighter yet. He glanced over to the bed where Morgana lay, alabaster complexion pallid and sickly. She truly did look a sight. But it still wasn't his fault, and yet he was the one being punished. Because the Lady Morgana was so bloody in love she couldn't keep her legs closed, and now she was in a family way. Which meant she had to be kept out of sight. Which somehow, had led to his having to impersonate the Lady Morgana. He gasped sharply as Gwen heaved again, the stiff stays clinching around his middle.
"That will have to do," Gwen said breathlessly, "if I lace him in any tighter I'm afraid the seams will come loose". Merlin would have laughed if he had the air to breathe properly. "Try him in one of my older gowns first," Morgana ordered weakly, "until he gets used to walking in a gown, he'll ruin the hems". And again, somehow this was his fault? He would have sighed, if he could draw the breath for it. "Easy," Gwen said comfortingly, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and he tried, but the room was already spinning. "Quick," Morgana said, realizing the trouble, "unlace him a bit Gwen, or he'll pass out. He isn't used to stays, you won't be able to tight-lace him the first few days. Put out that I'm not well, it's the truth after all, and no one will really notice if Merlin is often to my chambers to deliver medicine, or if I don't look or act quite right."
She turned to Merlin. "Three hours a day," she ordered, "you'll come and we'll work on getting you ready. You have to be ready by next month's visit from the Princess of the Western Isle". He nodded only slightly, his vision still swimming a bit. "Put him in my starter stays," Morgana ordered next, "not too tight, just to get used to them". Gwen nodded, deftly unlacing the more restrictive stays that Merlin currently wore. He gasped for air when she took them off, slumping bonelessly against the post of the bed he had been gripping for support. After the stays Morgana wore currently, the starter stays were practically comfortable. They weren't of course, they were still baleen and twill and laces, crushing his innards into the wrong places, but not quite as out of place as the first stays, and really, this was on Uther of all people's orders, so there was no getting out of it.
"Alright," Morgana murmured, eyeing him critically, "that will have to do for now. And remember, not a word to Arthur. We'll have to think of something to tell him for when you take my place as well. For now, no hair cuts, not too much sun, and here, every afternoon, as soon as lunch is finished". Merlin nodded and bowed slightly. "Curtsey," Morgana ordered, and Merlin paled, then flushed. "I don't know how," he said in a soft, startled voice, and Morgana looked pointedly at Gwen. "It's not difficult," the handmaiden promised, "like this". She demonstrated, and after a few moments, Merlin could at least manage a rough attempt without falling over. "Good enough for today," Morgana sighed, and Merlin hurried away, forced to walk with stiffer, smaller steps than normal due to the stays tightened around his middle.
The next few weeks were incredibly awkward for Merlin. He had his regular duties for Arthur, who was being kept in the dark regarding the entire matter, as well as what he came to at least mentally term his "princess lessons". Every afternoon between lunch and tea he would report to Morgana's rooms under the pretext of caring for her in her sickness. While there, he would be laced into the tighter stays and one of her older gowns, and made to sit, stand, walk, talk and dance. When Arthur asked about Merlin's shaggier than usual hair, he said that Gwen liked it like that. When Arthur asked if he had lost weight, Merlin replied that his appetite had been a bit off, worried over Lady Morgana's health. When Arthur asked if Morgana really needed him three hours a day, Merlin simply shrugged, and Arthur went off in a huff to the lists.
Towards the end of the month, Merlin started going out in public as Morgana. Gwen was always with him, and they continued the charade of Lady Morgana being ill. Merlin and Gwen would just take short walks in the gardens, Merlin leaning heavily on the handmaiden, as if he were weak after a long sickness. A week before the delegation from the Western Isle was due to arrive, Merlin took his leave of Arthur. He pled his own illness, and it was believable, because he was paler than he once had been, more slender. So by day Merlin left through one gate, and by night returned through another. Gwen met him, cast one of Morgana's more voluminous cloaks over his shoulders, and their charade began in earnest.
"Morgana" wasn't seen by Arthur until the night before their visitors arrived, and he noticed that something was off, but everyone knew she had been sick, and he didn't quite manage to go speak to her, just watched her move weakly from across the room. Her voice was husky with sickness still, her motions far less graceful than normal. He saw little of her the next week either, for she was often occupied with her good friend the Princess of the Western Isle. When he did see her, it was from across the room, and he soon got the feeling that she was avoiding him. It seemed as if every time he caught her eye and then started toward her, she would find some other place to be.
The annoyance of being ignored by the closest thing he had to a family of his own age was more than he would have anticipated. That slow burning frustration was only compounded however, by the idiocy of the dolt that had replaced Merlin as his manservant. Merlin wasn't the best servant really, but he more than made up for it by entertaining Arthur, and the new boy was not only twice as clumsy, he was less than half as interesting. Which meant that Arthur sacked the new servant after a week, and the next one within a few days.
Morgana kept avoiding him even after the delegation from the Western Isle left, but at least visibly improved, her motions returning to their usual sure grace, her voice regaining it's smooth, tinkling quality. Slowly, as the months passed, Morgana warmed back up to him, and they returned to their usual bantering ways. At the tournaments he was once again her champion, and at the feasts and balls, her escort. Still the feeling that something wasn't quite right persisted, but other than going through a new and dissatisfactory servant every few days, he couldn't pin point a single thing wrong.
"Gwen tells me you've dismissed another servant," Morgana commented idly one night as they sat in front of the fire, playing chess. He looked up at her, struck, as he had been recently, but the generous curve of her mouth. "He was not satisfactory," Arthur said shortly, not really wishing to speak of it. "I believe you haven't kept a single manservant for more than a week since that last one, oh, what's his name-" she pursed her lips and Arthur hurriedly said, "Merlin. His name was Merlin". Morgana smiled. "Yes, Merlin, of course, none of them have lasted more than a week since he ran off. I'd think you actually missed the boy".
Arthur felt his face heat, and he sputtered awkwardly for a moment. "It's nothing," he covered hurriedly, "it just seems none of the servants they send me know anything. I haven't the time to train someone as to my wants and needs". Morgana nodded slightly, but Arthur could see the laughter sparking in her blue eyes and curling at the corners of her mouth. "You do look especially lovely tonight," he said abruptly, and they quickly looked away from one another, both of them blushing heatedly. "It's kind of you to say so," Morgana said softly, her voice low and husky with emotion, eyes still lowered demurely.
The Prince took the moment to really look at her. Strands of her dark hair were coming loose from the chignon she wore it pulled back in to frame her face, her normally pale skin lit golden from the fire and flushed pink along the apples of her cheeks. Her thick dark lashes lay against her cheeks, hiding her luminous blue grey eyes. Her neck curved elegantly into the high collar of her midnight blue gown, gossamer silver veiling laying over the crown of her head and shoulders. Since she had returned to health the styles had changed, and he couldn't help but wonder how she would look in one of the lower cut gowns popular a few months back, the cream of her shoulder contrasting starkly with the velvet of her gown.
"I mean it," Arthur said, and his own voice sounded low and gruff in his ears. "I was worried for you when you took ill Morgana, and since then, I have found - I have found how truly I enjoy your company. I cannot help but notice, despite that, that you are also a woman". Morgana blushed more furiously, delicate fingers clasped trembling on her knee. "Forgive me," Arthur said hurriedly, "I did not mean to disturb you". He stood, and she looked up sharply, her hand instantly on his wrist. "Don't go," she said, voice still soft and low, and he could see tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. He nodded dumbly, reaching down to cup her cheek with one palm, thumbing away the tears gently. She shook again, burying her face in his hand, kissing the palm quickly.
Arthur gasped sharply at the intimacy. It was what he desired, and yet he hadn't dared to hope. Gently he reached down with his other hand, pulling her up by the waist. He could feel the stiff boning of her stays beneath the thick velvet of her gown, and his breath suddenly caught in his chest as his mind flew ahead to imagine her stripped to her stays and small clothes, pale and slim against his sheets. He leaned in and kissed her mouth roughly, and she gasped against him, hands fisting in his tunic. "Arthur," she breathed gently against his face, "we mustn't". He knew he ought to agree, ought to respect her wishes. But he couldn't. Not when she tasted like spiced wine and roasted apples. He kissed her again, teasing her lips open with his tongue, and this time, she melted obligingly against him.
"We mustn't," she protested weakly when they parted, but her head lay against his shoulder, her trim waist still trapped in the circle of his hands. He gently brushed his fingers along the curve of her cheek, breathing in the scent of her perfume, sweet and spicy. "Uther will not like it," Arthur admitted, "but I will not have anyone but you, Morgana". She let out a single low sob, wrenching herself from his arms and nearly running from the room. He stared after her confusedly. Promising undying devotion usually didn't get that sort of reaction, in his rather limited experience. He furrowed his brow in displeasure, wishing more than ever that Merlin were there. The servant might not be any help in the matter, but he would at least come up with some ridiculous thing to take Arthur's mind off it.
In the morning, Morgana did not come down to break her fast. After a bit of internal debating, he went to her quarters. The door swung open at his touch, and he stared blankly at the seat she usually occupied. "The Lady Morgana?" He inquired of the first guard he came across and the man straightened slightly. "Departed through the north gate this morning 'ere dawn," the guard said, "to visit the Lady Igraine of Tintagel". Arthur nodded, confusion muddling his mind. Igraine often sent for Morgana, she was Morgana's aunt after all, but Morgana had not mentioned it the night before. Arthur's stomach dropped painfully. They must have been discovered. Someone had told Uther of their kiss, and the King had decided to separate them.
Arthur hurried back to his own quarters, shouting for his servant as soon as he approached. Quickly he was bear arms and armor, heavy traveling cloak around his shoulders. As soon as a pack was prepared, he was off for the stables, calling for his horse to be saddled by the time he arrived. It all happened so quickly that there was no time for the guards to react, and then Arthur was clattering out of the city, racing for Tintagel. A single man on horseback easily made better time than a carriage, and by noon he had them in sight. Rather to his surprise, Morgana rode ahead of the carriage, veiled against the elements. Gwen rode at her side, their flanks protected by a retinue of the household knights. He spurred his horse on, easily outpacing them.
When Morgana spotted him, her eyes widened almost comically. She leaned across to Gwen though, and then the two women were whipping up their mounts, leaning low and close to the mares' necks. Tired after the long journey, Arthur's mount couldn't pace theirs, and they soon disappeared over to horizon. The carriage continued at it's sedate pace, flanked by the knights, the wagon of supplies trailing behind. Arthur rode with them a ways, but Morgana and Gwen did not return, and so finally he gave up. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, and if Morgana so wished to avoid him, there was nothing he could do. Hurt and dejected more than he cared to think on, Arthur turned his horse for Camelot.
By the time a week had passed, Arthur was certain that no one was the wiser. Igraine had simply wished to see Morgana urgently. After all, Uther would have reprimanded him if he knew. So he again prepared to travel, this time packing for a slightly longer journey. Lady Igraine would not begrudge him hospitality, and he did not mean to return to Camelot until Morgana agreed to return with him, as his royal wife. He grinned to himself, mentally undressing her. He wondered absently if she would be that same shade of alabaster all over, or if her chest and slender waist would be paler yet. He rode tirelessly, stopping only to rest the horse as he made for Tintagel once more.
The court of Tintagel was empty when he arrived, and he hurried into the castle. Lady Igraine had never kept much staff, but the keep was just as desolate, and he unsheathed his sword warily, creeping up into the palace proper. On the second floor, he heard a woman's unearthly scream, and he was certain it was Morgana. He burst into motion, racing through the halls. The bloodcurdling cry came again, and he poured on more speed. Crashing through the door, sword at the ready, he came to a sudden confused halt.
Morgana lay sweating on the bed, stripped to her sheer chemise. A mewling infant was curled to her breast, still wet and red with birth. Lady Igraine, Gwen, and a girl who could have doubled for Morgana crowded the bed, and Arthur stared. Morgana, for he was certain the one with the child was Morgana was as he remembered her from before her sickness, the same high brow and ice cold eyes, the same rose red lips and long black curls. And now he saw that the woman he had professed his love to, the woman he had kissed, had not been Morgana at all. His sword clattered to the floor.
The girl looked up at him from beneath long dark lashes, eyes the blue grey of the sea. For the first time Arthur's mind fully processed the double. The hair was darker than Morgana's, and shorter, not even fully shoulder length, although Arthur had never really seen it loose before. The nose was stronger, more aquiline, the cheeks higher and hollowed, the jaw stronger as well. Arthur's eyes followed the curve of the strong jaw into the curve of the pale neck, stopping at the unavoidable knob of an Adam's apple. The rest clicked into place. The broad shoulders and slender hips, the height and moments of gracelessness, the low rasp of Morgana's voice at times over the past months.
"Merlin?" He asked rather stupidly, and the double lowered her, his eyes and curtseyed. His breath caught in his chest, and he crossed the room, grasping Merlin roughly by the arm. For the first time, those blue eyes truly flashed at him, and he hated himself that he could have been fooled so easily. He crushed their mouths together, and for a moment, Merlin didn't respond, just stood there, stiff and awkward in his arms. But then Merlin let out a low groan of pleasure and sagged against him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Arthur panted for air when they parted, staring not-quite-comprehendingly at the jeweled drop earring threaded through a hole in Merlin's ear, bright as blood against his pale skin and dark hair.
"I'm sorry," Merlin murmured softly against Arthur's neck, and his voice was still higher than Arthur remembered it, breathless. Arthur tightened his arm around Merlin's waist, the stiff boning of the stays reminding him of the months of loneliness. He pulled away, looking over Merlin with this new knowledge. And yet, after these months of training, after these ignorant months of wanting, he cannot help but see more than a little of Morgana in Merlin. It is in the way he only meets Arthur's eyes through his thick lashes, the curve of his neck and the way he clasps his hands together at his waist. "You are so beautiful," he breathed out, and Merlin blushed hotly. Morgana and Gwen laughed softly, reminding Arthur that he and Merlin are not alone, and the three women smiled at him conspiratorially.
In his mind, Arthur could now perfectly imagine Merlin stripped to his stays, in a way he had never quite been able to manage when he thought it was Morgana in his arms. The idea of the boy who had once served him, splayed on his sheets, pale and slender, was almost too much to bear. "Merlin," he breathed, and Merlin finally looked him full in the eye, and Arthur could see the naked want there, desire burning pure and dark in Merlin's eyes. "I'm yours Arthur," Merlin said, in that same breathless tone, "in any way you will have me". Arthur nearly groaned in arousal, reaching again for the serving boy's waist, pulling him close.
Merlin's hands came up to Arthur's chest, and again Merlin peered at Arthur from beneath lowered lashes. "I would marry you in a heartbeat," Arthur confessed softly, leaning in to kiss Merlin soft and chaste, "and yet I know this scheme could not have been possible without my father's knowledge". Merlin nodded, eyes still lowered. "Now that the child has come, I will return to my duties," Morgana said softly, "Merlin may return to his if he wishes, with no one any the wiser". Arthur looked at her, nodding in acceptance. He looked back at Merlin. "Will you?" He asked, and Merlin looked up sharply, again meeting his eyes fully. Now Merlin's eyes sparked steely fire, and Arthur grinned, then again pulled Merlin close for a deep kiss.
Three weeks later, the carriage left Tintagel for Camelot. The Prince and his Manservant rode ahead, Ladies Morgana and Igraine, their handmaiden Gwen, and Gwen's adopted daughter rode in the carriage. Arthur found himself staring as intently at Merlin as he had at "Morgana". The wind lifted strands of long black hair from Merlin's face and neck where it had come loose from it's tail. His waist was still small, his figure changed by the long months in a woman's garments. But his stride was smooth and graceful, and he sat the horse with ease. Arthur's eyes followed the sloping shoulders down to slender, delicate hands, and he imagined again Merlin in his bed, this time entirely naked, skin nearly as pale as the sheets, limbed with gold from the candles and hearth. The Prince smiled.