Merlin fic: Sweet to Tongue and Sound to Eye
And here's the second story written for the Merlin/Arthur Fuh-Q-Fest Prompt Challenge!
Title: Sweet to Tongue and Sound to Eye
Author: Sleep-Not
Rating: PG
Challenge: Round 2, prompt 11: Arthur eats something amazingly delicious at a huge feast and has to share it with Merlin. Without cluing everyone in on the fact that they are lovers.
Word Count: 1785
Summary: In which something may well be sweet to tongue, but Merlin and Arthur’s behaviour is certainly not sound to eye.
Warnings: None
Notes: i) I will let the readers decide what the ‘something delicious’ is.
ii) The story title is from Christina Rossetti’s poem, ‘Goblin Market.’
iii) I recently realised that I unconsciously named Lady Amaranth after someone’s LJ name - this is purely coincidental!
iv) Beta’d (and glee’d over) by spiderwood
Lady Amaranth had lovely, heavy-lidded eyes and silky hair piled into a delicate chignon. Her voice was sweet, her manner demure, her skin smooth and soft to behold - and her father was not only wealthy but powerful too.
Merlin had worried when he’d first laid eyes on her earlier that day, when she had been presented at court: not because she was a sorceress, but because there was a very real chance that Uther might see fit to marry Arthur off to her.
Arthur had kissed her hand in welcome, and Merlin, standing at the back of the room had strained to see his expression. Was that fascination on Arthur’s face? Was his smile a little wider and more welcoming than usual?
The anxious feeling grew when he listened to the castle gossip: she sang as sweetly as a nightingale, danced as gracefully as a swan and -
“Can actually cook, apparently,” he added, “Though I don’t know what business she can have cooking when there are umpteen cooks to do it for you.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, in an annoyed tone, “would you stop talking about someone else while I’m trying to make love to you?”
“Not - ah! - someone; the Lady Amaranth.” Merlin panted petulantly. Honestly, Arthur never listened.
Arthur rolled off him.
“Where are you going?” Merlin complained.
Arthur was going to the feast. Since Merlin was apparently not in the mood.
This did not assuage Merlin’s concern at all.
By the time he’d helped serve fruit and other pre-dinner dainties to the guests, Merlin had heard so much positive feedback about the Lady Amaranth that he was prepared to turn her into an animal, she’d been compared (favourably) with so many.
“If I were a sorcerer, that is,” he added hastily to Gwen, “And I bet she has bad breath.”
Gwen gave him the hairy eyeball.
“Merlin,” she said slowly, “have you told Arthur about how you feel?”
She blushed.
“I mean, not how you feel, obviously not how you feel, but you know, about your opinion? Maybe? Because I know. I mean I don’t know, but I think, as his friend, Arthur would take your opinion to heart. Not that I’m implying you could influence the prince…”
“Right,” Merlin scoffed, “I’ll just say ‘Arthur, I think-”
“Yes?” Arthur said, “What do you think, Merlin? Because I was under the impression thinking wasn’t one of your strong suits.”
He’d used his super knight skills to creep up on them without them noticing. Not that princes did much creeping, no; they called it ‘stealth.’
Merlin gave Gwen a ‘god, why am I in love with such a prat?’ look and she returned it with a ‘what can you do?’ look. Arthur gave a threatening cough but Merlin knew that while Arthur excelled in incomprehensible hand signals, he was shit at reading meaningful looks.
Otherwise Gaius would have given away Merlin’s magical nature ages ago, rather than Merlin saying, one evening when Arthur was bonelessly post-coital and still tied to the bed (four-posters were so useful); “You know I’m a sorcerer, right? Right? Arthur?”
There had been rather a lot of shouting. But the angry sex that followed had been so worth it.
“I think it’s time for the court to sit for the feast,” Merlin said diplomatically.
Arthur huffed and went to sit by his father at the royal table. Merlin and Gwen exchanged a second meaningful look, just because they could, and went to take their own places. It pained Merlin to see that Lady Amaranth, who had been given a place of honour at the royal table, was sitting right beside Arthur. Could he get away with ‘accidentally’ spilling wine on her dress? With the mood Arthur was in it was probably best not to risk it, no matter how much Merlin wanted to.
The evening passed in a haze of poured wine and sore feet for Merlin as the revellers worked their way through one course after another. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves -a fact that usually made Merlin happy- everyone, and more importantly, Arthur was relaxed. Worst of all though, Arthur was relaxed with Lady Amaranth. He actually seemed to be enjoying talking with her. Merlin wanted to spill wine on Arthur now more than the hapless noblewoman, especially when his hair caught the light as he tossed his head back to laugh at something she’d said.
Finally came the sweets course, and with it the toasting. Uther stood to give his usual ‘Camelot Is Great Because I Made It So. Die, Magic, Die!’ speech and then some drunken lord toasted the royal family’s good health and then, to Merlin’s surprise -since he’d been tuning out Uther’s reply to the drunken lord’s toast- Lady Amaranth stood up. She smoothed her skirts down with lily-white hands (how could she possibly do any cooking with those?).
“Your majesty, your highness” she intoned dulcetly, “honoured members of the court; it is my sincere wish to thank you for the generous welcome I have received. Please accept this small trifle I have prepared as a token of my esteem.”
She motioned (as gracefully as a swan) to the servants now laying the tables with platters of sweetmeats and small bowls of... something. Murmurs of approval rose as the diners examined the new dessert placed before each of them.
Merlin frowned. This would be a perfect opportunity to bring Camelot low, by poisoning everyone. Only, neither Lady Amaranth nor her father had any motive to do so, from what he’d heard, and she certainly wasn’t giving off any ‘I am an evil sorceress!’ vibes. In fact, Lady Amaranth was so unmagical she was practically a magical null zone.
So he stood back, waiting a few paces behind Arthur as the prince scooped up whatever this dessert-thing was onto a spoon and took a bite.
The prince’s posture went taut. “WHAT IS THIS?” he asked in a voice so scandalised one would think he’d been fed dirt.
Merlin was possibly the only one who knew otherwise, having read the orgasmic pleasure broadcast by the line of Arthur’s spine and his broad shoulders in the split-second as Arthur swallowed. Merlin was used to seeing that expression in an entirely different set of circumstances.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, turning to him abruptly, voice still too loud, “you must taste this-“
“Is something wrong with my gift?” Lady Amaranth asked.
Merlin was deeply aware of the gaze of the whole court and King Uther on them in that moment. Arthur had scooped up another piece of the dessert, with his spare hand held carefully under the spoon to avoid spilling its contents, and had frozen in the act of proffering it to Merlin.
Morgana was probably the only noble paying them no mind, and that was because she obviously shared a similar opinion of the dessert with Arthur and was stuffing her face like a chipmunk.
“Arthur?” Uther asked, “What reason do you have to think you need a food-taster?”
Lady Amaranth flushed with dismay, “Sire, I assure you-“
The whole situation was beginning to scream ‘Diplomatic Incident!’
“Um.” Said Arthur, “No! No reason! It’s very good!”
“Then why would you want your manservant to test it?” Lady Amaranth asked.
Arthur looked at her, then down at the dessert spoon he was still holding. The dessert was melting and would soon begin to drip. He looked up at his father, and then around at all the nobles and servants gawking at him in the hall. And finally, after meeting what seemed like each and every one of their gazes, he looked at Merlin.
“Lady Amaranth,” he said, still looking at Merlin, “I am deeply grateful for this gift. You have excelled yourself.”
He turned back to the bowl on the table, returning the spoon to it before he got stickiness all over his clothes. Lady Amaranth, whose hands had been hovering by the bowl as if preparing to snatch it away, drew back placated.
“The reason,” Arthur continued smoothly, “I have for sharing it with Merlin is that I had the good fortune to taste something, dare I say, as good on a sojourn to Merlin’s natal village, and wished to see how he thought it compared. That is all. I apologise if in my enjoyment I expressed my wishes in a way that could be misinterpreted.”
“Oh! Well,” Lady Amaranth smiled, a little flustered by the crown prince’s eloquence, “You honour me, sire.”
“Indeed.” Uther said, and Merlin shivered a little at his tone. No one knew Arthur the way Merlin did, but equally no one knew Arthur like his father did either.
“Well come on, Merlin,” Arthur ordered, a touch impatiently, drawing Merlin’s attention back to the prince, “come here and taste this.”
Merlin gaped at him. Only Arthur would think to insist; only Arthur would have the sheer brazenness to feed his lowly manservant a dessert prepared specifically for kings in public and expect to get away with it. Only Arthur would get away with it.
In Merlin’s mind he heard Arthur’s voice, pleasure-soaked and languorous, and it was all just a figment, but at the same time Merlin believed it was real to his very core: “Merlin, you must taste this...”
Arthur proffered the spoon once more and Merlin shuffled the few steps forward that brought him to Arthur’s side. Instead of passing the spoon to Merlin, Arthur made a slight ‘hurry up’ gesture with it, beckoning Merlin closer.
Merlin bent at the waist to reach, one hand lightly touching Arthur’s wrist to direct the spoon into his mouth, and Arthur slid it gently between his lips.
Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s from below his fringe as he savoured the light, sweet taste on his tongue, and as he swallowed, Arthur seemed to swallow with him.
“Almost as good as-” Arthur said quietly, withdrawing the spoon, letting it slide wetly over Merlin’s bottom lip. And Merlin, not at all concerned about Lady Amaranth anymore, said, “Yes.”
Title: Sweet to Tongue and Sound to Eye
Author: Sleep-Not
Rating: PG
Challenge: Round 2, prompt 11: Arthur eats something amazingly delicious at a huge feast and has to share it with Merlin. Without cluing everyone in on the fact that they are lovers.
Word Count: 1785
Summary: In which something may well be sweet to tongue, but Merlin and Arthur’s behaviour is certainly not sound to eye.
Warnings: None
Notes: i) I will let the readers decide what the ‘something delicious’ is.
ii) The story title is from Christina Rossetti’s poem, ‘Goblin Market.’
iii) I recently realised that I unconsciously named Lady Amaranth after someone’s LJ name - this is purely coincidental!
iv) Beta’d (and glee’d over) by spiderwood
Lady Amaranth had lovely, heavy-lidded eyes and silky hair piled into a delicate chignon. Her voice was sweet, her manner demure, her skin smooth and soft to behold - and her father was not only wealthy but powerful too.
Merlin had worried when he’d first laid eyes on her earlier that day, when she had been presented at court: not because she was a sorceress, but because there was a very real chance that Uther might see fit to marry Arthur off to her.
Arthur had kissed her hand in welcome, and Merlin, standing at the back of the room had strained to see his expression. Was that fascination on Arthur’s face? Was his smile a little wider and more welcoming than usual?
The anxious feeling grew when he listened to the castle gossip: she sang as sweetly as a nightingale, danced as gracefully as a swan and -
“Can actually cook, apparently,” he added, “Though I don’t know what business she can have cooking when there are umpteen cooks to do it for you.”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, in an annoyed tone, “would you stop talking about someone else while I’m trying to make love to you?”
“Not - ah! - someone; the Lady Amaranth.” Merlin panted petulantly. Honestly, Arthur never listened.
Arthur rolled off him.
“Where are you going?” Merlin complained.
Arthur was going to the feast. Since Merlin was apparently not in the mood.
This did not assuage Merlin’s concern at all.
By the time he’d helped serve fruit and other pre-dinner dainties to the guests, Merlin had heard so much positive feedback about the Lady Amaranth that he was prepared to turn her into an animal, she’d been compared (favourably) with so many.
“If I were a sorcerer, that is,” he added hastily to Gwen, “And I bet she has bad breath.”
Gwen gave him the hairy eyeball.
“Merlin,” she said slowly, “have you told Arthur about how you feel?”
She blushed.
“I mean, not how you feel, obviously not how you feel, but you know, about your opinion? Maybe? Because I know. I mean I don’t know, but I think, as his friend, Arthur would take your opinion to heart. Not that I’m implying you could influence the prince…”
“Right,” Merlin scoffed, “I’ll just say ‘Arthur, I think-”
“Yes?” Arthur said, “What do you think, Merlin? Because I was under the impression thinking wasn’t one of your strong suits.”
He’d used his super knight skills to creep up on them without them noticing. Not that princes did much creeping, no; they called it ‘stealth.’
Merlin gave Gwen a ‘god, why am I in love with such a prat?’ look and she returned it with a ‘what can you do?’ look. Arthur gave a threatening cough but Merlin knew that while Arthur excelled in incomprehensible hand signals, he was shit at reading meaningful looks.
Otherwise Gaius would have given away Merlin’s magical nature ages ago, rather than Merlin saying, one evening when Arthur was bonelessly post-coital and still tied to the bed (four-posters were so useful); “You know I’m a sorcerer, right? Right? Arthur?”
There had been rather a lot of shouting. But the angry sex that followed had been so worth it.
“I think it’s time for the court to sit for the feast,” Merlin said diplomatically.
Arthur huffed and went to sit by his father at the royal table. Merlin and Gwen exchanged a second meaningful look, just because they could, and went to take their own places. It pained Merlin to see that Lady Amaranth, who had been given a place of honour at the royal table, was sitting right beside Arthur. Could he get away with ‘accidentally’ spilling wine on her dress? With the mood Arthur was in it was probably best not to risk it, no matter how much Merlin wanted to.
The evening passed in a haze of poured wine and sore feet for Merlin as the revellers worked their way through one course after another. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves -a fact that usually made Merlin happy- everyone, and more importantly, Arthur was relaxed. Worst of all though, Arthur was relaxed with Lady Amaranth. He actually seemed to be enjoying talking with her. Merlin wanted to spill wine on Arthur now more than the hapless noblewoman, especially when his hair caught the light as he tossed his head back to laugh at something she’d said.
Finally came the sweets course, and with it the toasting. Uther stood to give his usual ‘Camelot Is Great Because I Made It So. Die, Magic, Die!’ speech and then some drunken lord toasted the royal family’s good health and then, to Merlin’s surprise -since he’d been tuning out Uther’s reply to the drunken lord’s toast- Lady Amaranth stood up. She smoothed her skirts down with lily-white hands (how could she possibly do any cooking with those?).
“Your majesty, your highness” she intoned dulcetly, “honoured members of the court; it is my sincere wish to thank you for the generous welcome I have received. Please accept this small trifle I have prepared as a token of my esteem.”
She motioned (as gracefully as a swan) to the servants now laying the tables with platters of sweetmeats and small bowls of... something. Murmurs of approval rose as the diners examined the new dessert placed before each of them.
Merlin frowned. This would be a perfect opportunity to bring Camelot low, by poisoning everyone. Only, neither Lady Amaranth nor her father had any motive to do so, from what he’d heard, and she certainly wasn’t giving off any ‘I am an evil sorceress!’ vibes. In fact, Lady Amaranth was so unmagical she was practically a magical null zone.
So he stood back, waiting a few paces behind Arthur as the prince scooped up whatever this dessert-thing was onto a spoon and took a bite.
The prince’s posture went taut. “WHAT IS THIS?” he asked in a voice so scandalised one would think he’d been fed dirt.
Merlin was possibly the only one who knew otherwise, having read the orgasmic pleasure broadcast by the line of Arthur’s spine and his broad shoulders in the split-second as Arthur swallowed. Merlin was used to seeing that expression in an entirely different set of circumstances.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, turning to him abruptly, voice still too loud, “you must taste this-“
“Is something wrong with my gift?” Lady Amaranth asked.
Merlin was deeply aware of the gaze of the whole court and King Uther on them in that moment. Arthur had scooped up another piece of the dessert, with his spare hand held carefully under the spoon to avoid spilling its contents, and had frozen in the act of proffering it to Merlin.
Morgana was probably the only noble paying them no mind, and that was because she obviously shared a similar opinion of the dessert with Arthur and was stuffing her face like a chipmunk.
“Arthur?” Uther asked, “What reason do you have to think you need a food-taster?”
Lady Amaranth flushed with dismay, “Sire, I assure you-“
The whole situation was beginning to scream ‘Diplomatic Incident!’
“Um.” Said Arthur, “No! No reason! It’s very good!”
“Then why would you want your manservant to test it?” Lady Amaranth asked.
Arthur looked at her, then down at the dessert spoon he was still holding. The dessert was melting and would soon begin to drip. He looked up at his father, and then around at all the nobles and servants gawking at him in the hall. And finally, after meeting what seemed like each and every one of their gazes, he looked at Merlin.
“Lady Amaranth,” he said, still looking at Merlin, “I am deeply grateful for this gift. You have excelled yourself.”
He turned back to the bowl on the table, returning the spoon to it before he got stickiness all over his clothes. Lady Amaranth, whose hands had been hovering by the bowl as if preparing to snatch it away, drew back placated.
“The reason,” Arthur continued smoothly, “I have for sharing it with Merlin is that I had the good fortune to taste something, dare I say, as good on a sojourn to Merlin’s natal village, and wished to see how he thought it compared. That is all. I apologise if in my enjoyment I expressed my wishes in a way that could be misinterpreted.”
“Oh! Well,” Lady Amaranth smiled, a little flustered by the crown prince’s eloquence, “You honour me, sire.”
“Indeed.” Uther said, and Merlin shivered a little at his tone. No one knew Arthur the way Merlin did, but equally no one knew Arthur like his father did either.
“Well come on, Merlin,” Arthur ordered, a touch impatiently, drawing Merlin’s attention back to the prince, “come here and taste this.”
Merlin gaped at him. Only Arthur would think to insist; only Arthur would have the sheer brazenness to feed his lowly manservant a dessert prepared specifically for kings in public and expect to get away with it. Only Arthur would get away with it.
In Merlin’s mind he heard Arthur’s voice, pleasure-soaked and languorous, and it was all just a figment, but at the same time Merlin believed it was real to his very core: “Merlin, you must taste this...”
Arthur proffered the spoon once more and Merlin shuffled the few steps forward that brought him to Arthur’s side. Instead of passing the spoon to Merlin, Arthur made a slight ‘hurry up’ gesture with it, beckoning Merlin closer.
Merlin bent at the waist to reach, one hand lightly touching Arthur’s wrist to direct the spoon into his mouth, and Arthur slid it gently between his lips.
Merlin’s eyes met Arthur’s from below his fringe as he savoured the light, sweet taste on his tongue, and as he swallowed, Arthur seemed to swallow with him.
“Almost as good as-” Arthur said quietly, withdrawing the spoon, letting it slide wetly over Merlin’s bottom lip. And Merlin, not at all concerned about Lady Amaranth anymore, said, “Yes.”