Scarborough Fair - Part 3
Title: Scarborough Fair
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Canon era
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
A/N: Scarborough Fair was written for the After Camlann Big Bang and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt. Thanks to my talented artist rishimakapur, my cheerleader gilli_ann, my proofreader gibbous_moon, and my wonderful beta lawgoddess.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
Tell her to find me an acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Between the salt water and the sea strand,
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.
“I don’t know, Gaius,” Merlin said when he made it safely inside Gaius’s workshop. “This poetry shit is getting deep.”
Gaius snorted. “Language, Merlin,” he said. His eyes roved over Merlin’s excessively wrinkled clothing and rumpled hair. “What on earth happened to you?”
Merlin’s shoulders slumped. “I brought Arthur the shirt that he wanted from Gwen,” he said, stripping off his jacket and his neckerchief, which dangled askew.
“And how did it go?” Gaius asked. “Will he welcome Gwen back to Camelot?”
“Everything seemed fine until the conversation became all about Arthur and his feelings,” he said with a sigh.
“Feelings? The only feelings I’ve noticed Arthur expressing lately are the ones of anger that end up with you in the stocks,” Gaius said.
“Oh, believe me, that’s the last thing that will happen to me now,” Merlin said. He went to the basin and splashed his face with cold water.
Gaius raised an eyebrow. “What happened when you gave Arthur the shirt? Did he at least see reason where Gwen is concerned?” Gaius asked.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it reason,” Merlin said, drying his face on a sheet of linen, and hoping that Gaius didn’t notice any reddening the king’s stubble might have left on his skin. “Not only does he seem to have a complete change in plans, but he also assigned Gwen a new task to perform.”
“But I thought she was supposed to make a shirt and that was the end of it?” Gaius said.
“It’s gotten a bit more complicated than that,” Merlin said, drying his hands. He wished he could tell Gaius the truth, but he feared that his mentor would go mad if he told him that he used magic to make the shirt for Gwen. “I have to ride back to Scarborough to give Gwen the bad news.”
“Poor girl,” Gaius said, shaking his head. “Did the shirt fail to meet with Arthur’s approval?”
“Something like that,” Merlin said.
“Gwen has suffered a lot in her young life. Do you think she’ll be very disappointed that there’s more work to be done?” Gaius asked.
Merlin clamped his lips closed and tried to look stern. “Very disappointed,” he said. He couldn’t very well tell Gaius that Gwen seemed like she couldn’t care less whether she returned to Camelot or not. Nor that the new task Arthur had assigned Gwen was even more impossible to accomplish than the first.
“Well, you know the king’s wishes best,” Gaius said. “If he demands that Gwen do more, it is your duty to tell her-both as her friend, and as Arthur’s manservant.”
Merlin mulled over the word manservant in his mind. A manservant who Arthur kissed-on the lips!
“Take heart,” Gaius said, patting Merlin’s shoulder. “The three of you have weathered worse storms. If you succeed in bringing Gwen back to Camelot, things can go back to normal, just like you wanted.”
“I hope so,” Merlin said.
“Merlin? You wouldn’t have used your magic to help Gwen with her task, would you?” Gaius asked.
“No, of course not,” Merlin said. “Magic is as illegal in Camelot as it ever was.”
“Hmmm….” Gaius said suspiciously.
“Gaius, I’m not foolish enough to risk my life just to bring a lovesick couple together,” Merlin insisted. “I use my magic only for Arthur, and that’s all I’ll ever use it for. I’m just talking to Arthur and Gwen about reconciling and hoping that they’ll listen to me. They’re meant to be together, aren’t they?”
“You seem to think so,” Gaius said.
That night, Merlin tossed and turned, even without the lingonberries.
Merlin dreamed himself in Arthur’s bedchamber, the king’s lips hot on his neck.
“You were a fool to try to repair my relationship with Gwen,” Arthur said.
Merlin moaned softly when Arthur’s teeth caught his earlobe and sucked sloppily enough to make Merlin squirm.
“Don’t you know that all I’ve ever wanted was you?” Arthur asked, his words of desire travelling straight to Merlin’s sleeping cock.
“Arthur,” Merlin moaned as he framed Arthur’s face in his hands. “I need to show you something.’
Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the room suddenly became filled with tiny golden dragons that darted between the bedposts and perched atop the furnishings.
When Merlin next looked into Arthur’s eyes, they were filled with horror.
“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice echoed through his bedchamber, but the lush Camelot crimson sheets that decorated the King’s chambers were not found on his simple bed. No, Merlin’s bed was as plain and unadorned as ever. His bed had served as a resting place for an injured traveller or a triage post for Gaius to examine the bloody and battered who sought shelter with the physician and his apprentice. Now Merlin exhibited the same sweat-matted hair and the hollow expression of those who had gone to battle.
But his battle was more complicated than one fought on a field of war.
Merlin gazed around his simple quarters, the thin bedsheet pooling at his waist, the summer night requiring no heavy blanket or bed-warmer of hot coals stolen from the king’s chambers. Alone, Merlin took deep breaths as he tried to establish some feeling of normalcy.
He sipped from the cup of water at his bedside, the lukewarm liquid stagnant from the summer air in this lonely room of the castle. Above his desk the moonlight shone through the streaked pane of glass. The sun showed no sign of rising any time soon. Merlin slumped back into his mattress, the horsehair shifting with the jut of a hipbone and the shove of an elbow.
There were so many secrets that Arthur could never learn, no matter how fond of Arthur Merlin had become.
Merlin tried to settle himself. But the dream of his magic revealed made his heart beat more loudly than the drums that once echoed through the courtyard to signal the burning of a sorcerer on the pyre in the days when Uther ruled over Camelot. He pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on Arthur and the kiss they shared.
Merlin longed to kiss Arthur again. He imagined climbing the stairs to his chambers before morning broke, but he thought better of it. Arthur would be furious if Merlin awoke him now, running to his chambers like a girl to tell him that a frightening dream roused him from a sound sleep. Besides, there was Gwen to think about.
A liaison with Arthur should be the furthest thing from Merlin’s mind.
~
“Merlin, I have such fantastic news for you,” Gwen said.
Merlin could hardly believe it when Gwen rushed into his arms. He thought he’d have a hard time finding her, now that the grand Scarborough Fair was in full swing. The main road bustled with tourists and the cries of vendors as the hawked their wares.
“I have news for you as well,” Merlin said, embracing his friend. “Good news and a bit of bad news-but nothing we can’t overcome together.”
“Tell me your good news first,” Gwen said, stepping back to let Merlin unshoulder the satchel of fresh herbs he had brought to market.
“The good news is that Arthur loved the shirt,” Merlin said happily. “And the bad-”
“Lancelot has come to Scarborough,” Gwen blurted out, her smile bright with joy.
“Oh,” Merlin said. “Oh, dear.” His enthusiasm dimmed as quickly as it had flared.
“Merlin, Lancelot is your friend,” Gwen said. “You must have been worried sick about him. I thought you’d be happy to know that he is well.”
“Yes, of course,” Merlin said. He looked around nervously at the surrounding stalls, full of shoppers and traders.
“He’s not here now, silly,” Gwen said, lightly punching Merlin’s arm. “He’s in Caerleon, training as one of Queen Annis’s guards. But he’ll be back to Scarborough as soon as he gets his first chance. I think he really loves me.”
Merlin’s eyes went wide. He didn’t want to disappoint Gwen, but he was sure that Gwen was destined to be with Arthur. He couldn’t allow this love affair with Lancelot to proceed. What was Gwen thinking? He had already risked his life by revealing his magic to her when they made the shirt. Didn’t that mean anything to her?
Of course Lancelot was appealing with his thick dark hair and his skill with the sword, but Arthur’s hair glowed like the sun, and his sword skills were twice those of Lancelot’s. Merlin could hardly believe that Gwen would risk disappointing the king.
“That’s awful,” Merlin said. “I mean, I’m glad someone loves you, but you’re wonderful Gwen-everyone loves you. I hope you’re not making a mistake by hoping that Lancelot will love you more than Arthur does.”
“Merlin!” Gwen said with her hands on her hips. “I would have thought a sensitive fellow like you would know that love doesn’t work that way. I’m not hoping for anything, I’m just delighted that Lancelot is doing well after our incident with Arthur.”
“I know,” Merlin said, “but it’s Arthur who you’re supposed to love.”
Gwen laughed, “You obviously don’t know the first thing about love then,” she said. “There are no strict rules about it. It’s about how you feel toward someone special.”
It was true that Merlin didn’t know much about the kind of love Gwen was going on about, but he dreaded bringing Arthur the disappointing news that Gwen had rebuffed his offer to return to his side.
Gwen didn’t even care enough to hear the bad news Merlin had brought. Before they could finish their discussion, one of the fair’s vendors, a man holding a broken chain, approached Gwen.
“Can you tell me where I can take this to be repaired?” he asked her, the metal jangling in his hands.
“What is it? It looks like something the smith can fix,” Gwen said.
“Yes, a smith ought to be able to do it,” the man said.
“Well, then,” Gwen said, taking the man’s arm. “He’s a bit hard to find. I’ll take you there myself.”
“But, Gwen?” Merlin said.
“You can leave your herbs in my stall and I’ll tend to them later,” Gwen said. “I need to get back to my vendors.”
“But what about Arthur?” Merlin asked.
“I’m finished talking about him with you,” Gwen said. “Take a look around. Try to enjoy yourself.”
Merlin knew Gwen was doing her best to hide how annoyed she was with him. But what was he to do now? With Lancelot back in the picture and Arthur waiting in Camelot for Gwen to complete the next task, Merlin alone had the responsibility for bringing Gwen and Arthur back together.
He left his satchel of herbs and wandered among the stalls. Silken fabric of every colour hung from the stall beside Gwen’s workshop. Merlin let the soft fabric slide through his hands as he admired the rich designs and the pretty images that were rendered onto the silk. Further along, a woodworker displayed his carvings of animals that some lucky child would receive as a toy.
Merlin walked through the centre of the village that had been transformed by the fair. Everyone seemed happy to sell their wares and to be able to purchase rare items that usually were not available to them.
Thoughts of Arthur weighed heavily on Merlin’s mind as he turned down a side road that led to the sea. He wanted Gwen and Arthur to reunite, but now that Lancelot had reappeared in Gwen’s life, it seemed less likely that Gwen would be willing to reconcile with Arthur.
And then, there was Arthur.
Merlin swept his thumb over his lips and remembered the kiss they had shared. He had tried to forget that it had happened at all, but he wondered if Arthur was truly sorry, blaming it on the wine, instead of his own feelings.
The road dipped ahead to where it met the sea. Merlin followed the worn path through the heather, descending at an angle toward the beach. To Merlin’s left, a stone wall separated the road from the sand, but on his right, the sandy shoreline stretched as far as Merlin could see.
The beachfront was quiet. It seemed like everyone within a ten mile radius of Scarborough had been sucked into the activities of the fair. A gentle breeze rose off the water and swept Merlin’s hair off his sweaty forehead.
He had ridden half the day to give Arthur’s message to Gwen, but it was no use. She likely had no intention of reconciling with him, not now that Lancelot was back in her life. She probably didn’t even want to return to Camelot.
Merlin sat in the grass that sprung up between the rocks by the sandy shore. He wrapped his hands around his knees and thought about what should be done. If he returned to Arthur without accomplishing the task he required of Gwen, Arthur would never allow Gwen back in Camelot. But maybe if he completed the task for Gwen, there was still hope that Gwen would return. She might want to visit Elyan someday.
Lancelot had always seemed nice enough to Merlin. But what if he rode off again, leaving Gwen behind in Scarborough, after she had given him her heart?
Gwen would need Arthur’s forgiveness and an end to their feuding. How else would they all get along together again? Arthur needed a partner. Gwen needed to become Arthur’s queen. Merlin knew what he had to do.
Taking a quick look around the seashore, Merlin couldn’t see anyone loitering far from the town centre. He held his right hand over the horizon and spoke. His eyes flared gold as the ancient words tumbled out of his mouth.
When he finished casting his spell, his lips were clamped shut, his jaw resolute, and a patch of dry land the size of an acre had risen from the ocean floor where once there had been only waves.
~
Merlin rode all night, without bothering to say goodbye to Gwen. When he reached Camelot, he left his horse with a stable-boy and hurried to Gaius’s workshop. The sun was just beginning to rise and he knew his mentor would wake soon, so he didn’t bother to be quiet.
In his room, he stripped off his soiled tunic and left it on the floor. Taking a fresh tunic from his cupboard, he hurried to the workshop and poured water into the basin. He washed quickly, splashing water onto his face with his hands.
Gaius woke and propped himself up on his cot. He looked surprised to see Merlin had returned to Camelot already.
“Merlin, what on earth are you doing?” Gaius asked. “I didn’t expect you to return for at least a few days.”
“I had to come back,” Merlin said. “I have more good news for Arthur. I just wanted to freshen up a bit before I saw him.”
Gaius looked sceptical. “As I recall, your news wasn’t received very well the last time you returned from Scarborough,” he said. Flinging off his blanket, he hunted around on the floor for his slippers.
For a brief moment, Merlin thought Gaius wouldn’t ask him what happened with Arthur’s latest request. He was thrilled with his accomplishment at bringing the land from the sea, but he didn’t want Gaius to find out that he used his magic for what Gaius would consider a foolish project.
“What have you done now, Merlin?” Gaius asked. “You look like the cat who swallowed the canary.”
“I did it. I completed the second task that Arthur expected Gwen to do,” Merlin said.
Gaius shoved his feet into his slippers and sat on the bed. “Merlin,” he said. “Do you mean to tell me that you performed the task in Gwen’s stead?
Merlin’s face dropped. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Merlin asked. “Arthur simply wanted the task to be completed. He never said anything about me helping Gwen or not. At least, I don’t think he meant it like that.”
Merlin scratched his head.
Gaius’s eyebrow shot up. “And you haven’t told Arthur that you completed this additional chore he assigned to Gwen?”
“Not yet,” Merlin said. “I wanted to surprise him. He doesn’t know I’m back.”
Gaius sighed. “You need to sit down,” he said, motioning for Merlin to take a seat at the small table that was strewn with vials and scattered bundles of dried herbs.
Merlin pulled out his chair and sat. “I really need to get to Arthur,” he said. “He’ll be excited to hear the news.”
“You’re convinced that bringing Arthur and Gwen back together is the right thing to do?” Gaius asked, taking the seat across from Merlin.
Merlin traced a finger around one of the vials. “Well, yes. They belong together, don’t they?” he asked, although he feared that he knew exactly what Gaius was talking about. It was one thing to help Gwen, but if his mentor learned that he had used magic to help Gwen accomplish the tasks, he would be very disappointed. “I want Arthur to be happy, and the way he’s been lately…. he loves Gwen,” Merlin said with a shrug.
“Merlin,” Gaius said with a raised an eyebrow. “I worry that you know very little about how love works.”
“Gwen said that to me, too,” Merlin said.
They remained in silence for a time, with Merlin staring out over the work table, his face twisted with confusion. The chirp of crickets floated through the castle windows, promising the end to summer and the beginning of harvest time.
“Are you sure that you didn’t fall and hit your head?” Gaius asked.
“No,” Merlin said. “Why ever would you think so?”
“I worry that you’re suffering from some kind of mental affliction,” Gaius said. “You’re so single-minded about bringing Gwen back to Camelot, you’re ignoring the very reason why she might not want to return.”
Merlin fidgeted in his seat. He hoped that Gaius wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable the questions made him.
“You think she loves Lancelot more than Arthur?” Merlin asked.
“It could be,” Gaius said. “You must be careful. It’s good of you to help Gwen get back together with Arthur, but you shouldn’t do so unless it is truly what’s in Gwen’s heart.”
“I promise to be careful,” Merlin said. “I’m just trying to get things back to normal. Now, I really need to get Arthur his breakfast,” Merlin said, pushing out his chair. “You know how he gets when he’s hungry.”
He left Gaius in his workshop and scrambled for the door. Knowing that Arthur would be awake soon, Merlin grabbed the laundry from the washing that hung in the kitchen and got a platter of breakfast foods from the cook.
He ran up the stairs to the king’s bedchamber with food, clothing, and the good news about the land, although Gaius’s caution made Merlin a bit nervous about revealing that the task had been completed.
~
Merlin caught the king just as he rose for the day. He set Arthur’s clothing aside and dropped a fresh square of linen beside Arthur’s plate. Then he went to the window and threw the draperies open to gaze out into the morning light.
“You won’t believe what good news I have for you today,” Merlin said happily.
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said.
“That’s no way to greet your manservant,” Merlin said.
Arthur peered out from beneath his royal coverlet. “You’re not going to tell me that Gwen found the land I instructed you to tell her about,” Arthur said, wagging his finger at Merlin.
“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Sire,” Merlin said.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Arthur said, pulling the covers over his head.
It was almost like old times-the silly banter they would engage in long before Arthur sent Gwen away.
“You could listen to what I have to s-” Merlin began, but his words were cut off by Arthur.
“Merlin, that’s enough,” Arthur said. He pushed himself from the bed and stood on his feet, coming face to face with Merlin. “You’re lying. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the view from the stocks, hasn’t it? Don’t make this be the day when I send you to get reacquainted with them.”
“I was merely suggesting that you’d like to hear what Gwen accomplished so you can welcome her back,” Merlin said, raising his hands in surrender and taking a step backwards. “I was there when she secured the land. She’s amazing.”
“And I suggest that you spend the day mucking out my stables,” Arthur said. “It should give you plenty of time to think about why you insist on claiming that Gwen did any such thing.”
“You don’t believe me?” Merlin said. He sighed and began to fold the laundry he had brought to Arthur’s chambers. There had to be some way that he could convince Arthur that the acre of land existed, there above the sea in Scarborough.
“Have you seen my blue tunic?” Arthur asked. He paced in front of the wardrobe where Merlin had moved on to hanging his clothes, fresh from the castle laundry.
“I don’t think you have a blue tunic,” Merlin replied, taking another red tunic from where it lay across the chair. He held the garment up with outstretched hands and fussed with the sleeves until they were evenly draped on each side.
“I’m sure it was in here somewhere,” Arthur said. He stepped between the wardrobe and Merlin, grabbing at clothing that was folded and stored already in its place.
“Arthur-” Merlin tried to stop him, but it was too late. He’d have to begin the task again. At least the clothing remained clean this time. It hadn’t suffered from one of the king’s more destructive tirades that involved red wine or a plum pudding.
“Merlin, have you no idea how you are supposed to address your king?” Arthur asked, his hand clasped to his forehead in despair, the clothes strewn around his feet.
“Stop it, Arthur, you don’t mean that,” Merlin said, letting his anger about the rumpled clothes fuel his confidence.
“Don’t tell me what I mean. I’m the king. It’s my job to give orders and your job to listen and obey,” Arthur said.
Merlin would have none of this. “Arthur, what’s happened to you? One day, you seemed destined to reign over Camelot in peace with Gwen. Then, you exile her. One day, you were my friend. Now, you’re pulling this power play on me. I miss you. I miss the old you, and I think you miss the way things used to be too.”
Arthur planted his hands on his hips and pouted like a petulant child.
“There are responsibilities that come with being the king that you couldn’t possibly understand. I do what I must to run the kingdom. I must treat the subjects the way they should be treated-the way my father did. I must behave like a king-the way my father did. That’s what it means to be a great king. I cannot love someone, if the people will lose their respect for their king because of who I love,” Arthur said, before proceeding to rummage through the wardrobe again.
“Right,” Merlin nodded with a sarcastic grin on his face. “Your father was a great king.”
Merlin tried to get the image of sorcerers burning on a pyre out of his mind, tried not to imagine the feel of the axe blade as it struck a magic-user’s neck.
“He was a great king, Merlin. Don’t give me that look,” Arthur said. “It’s inappropriate.”
“I’m not giving you any kind of inappropriate look,” Merlin said with a laugh. He stooped to pick another garment off the floor for folding. He tried not to notice that a smile crossed Arthur’s lips. It seemed like it had been too long since he had seen joy on Arthur’s face.
“What would he do, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice grew quiet.
Merlin dropped the tunic he was holding. It fell to the floor with the other clothes that Arthur had left there.
“About what?” Merlin asked.
Arthur made no reply. A soft morning breeze swept through the open window of the bedchamber.
“I think you know what he would do,” Merlin said, his voice as gentle as possible. “He’d find a way to do what was right. That’s what a truly great king would do.”
Arthur leaned against the wardrobe. “And how exactly would he do that, Merlin?”
Merlin took a step toward Arthur. Merlin knew how much Arthur respected his father. If he could get Arthur to see reason by comparing himself to his father, he would try. “He’d find an answer that he could live with. Even if it meant throwing everything he believed in by the wayside. If he could see an answer that made sense to him, he’d embrace it. You could do the same thing.”
“How can I, Merlin? To cast off old ingrained beliefs... sometimes it’s simply impossible,” Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s no more impossible than when your father used sorcery to bring you into the world, and no more impossible than it was for him to order the purge that followed,” Merlin said. His heart pounded as he tried to convince Arthur to make a decision he wouldn’t regret. He wasn’t used to throwing around sorcery so casually when the fear of Arthur learning about his magic haunted his daily thoughts.
“My father did what he thought was right. He cared about the people. I care about the people. I always have their best interests in mind. I’d lay down my life for them,” Arthur said.
“The people trust you to do what’s right,” Merlin said. “As much as you’d like to believe that you are as resolute as your father, you’re not. You’re doubtful and worried about perceptions. These feelings could be resolved if you would allow yourself to do this one thing. You need to forgive Gwen.”
Arthur’s eyes remained closed. His knees buckled and he let himself slide to the floor, bracing his back on the side of the wardrobe. When he came to a rest, he turned away from Merlin. “What if the people hate me for what I do?” he asked. “What if I haven’t I done enough for them to make them hold me in high esteem? What if it wasn’t enough to lose my mother… my father… Gwen…?”
“They couldn’t hate you,” Merlin said, dropping to his knees. He hesitated only momentarily before he touched his hand to Arthur’s shoulder in an effort to ground him, to show him that someone cared. And it wasn’t just for show, some pathetic display to obtain the king’s favour. Merlin did care. He cared especially when the people closest to Arthur had vanished from his life.
Arthur raised his eyes to Merlin. “And yet, you want me to forgive Gwen?”
“You need to find a way,” Merlin said.
Arthur seemed to relax at the feel of Merlin’s hand on his shoulder. Merlin hoped that his words were finally making sense to him.
“You can do it,” Merlin reminded Arthur.
“It’s up to me alone,” Arthur added, uncertainly.
“You’re not alone,” Merlin said, trying to encourage him.
“You know, Merlin,” Arthur said, reaching up and covering Merlin’s hand with his own. “Sometimes, I think you’re very wise.”
“You really think so?” Merlin asked.
“Either that, or you’re just very lucky,” Arthur said. His lips curled into a smile, one that Merlin had been sorely missing.
“Come on, you,” Merlin said. “It’s time to start your day. I won’t have the knights blaming me when you arrive late to the training field.”
Merlin turned his hand so Arthur’s palm lay flat against his. He stood up, his hand never breaking contact with Arthur’s. When he stood, he gave it small tug to draw the king to his feet.
“Go make your plans for the morning, while I pick up this mess,” Merlin said.
It didn’t take more than a moment for Merlin to realize that Arthur hadn’t let go of Merlin’s hand. Merlin’s eyes went to where their hands were joined. His own fingers were long and slim, nimble for gathering mushrooms, or picking herbs. Powerful for casting spells.
Arthur’s fingers were nearly the same length, but rough from years of practice with a sword, strong from the power he wielded over his kingdom.
Arthur’s hands were warm.
Merlin thought for certain that Arthur would laugh at their contact and release his hand. His eyes roamed from their hands to Arthur’s face. Merlin gasped with surprise when instead of letting go, Arthur pulled him closer and leaned to press his forehead against Merlin’s.
Merlin flushed from the intimacy of the contact. He felt Arthur’s breath, warm on his face.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked.
Merlin had never felt like he knew less about love than he did in that moment. He was in Arthur’s chambers, intent on telling him that Gwen had accomplished his task-the task for which Arthur would let her return to Camelot. But here he was, falling into Arthur’s arms, secretly hoping that Arthur wanted him the same way he wanted Arthur.
Merlin could barely breathe as he dared to surge forward to capture Arthur’s lips with his. After a moment, he was not disappointed when Arthur gave a soft moan while tasting his mouth, the press of his warm tongue sweeping across Merlin’s lips before thrusting inside in a clash of teeth. The sounds Arthur made slid down Merlin’s spine and made his cock grow hard in his breeches.
Arthur met Merlin breath for breath, his hands clutching at Merlin’s tunic. He tugged at the fabric until his hands met with the warm skin of Merlin’s back.
Merlin pulled away for air, his teeth scraping Arthur’s jaw while Arthur left a trail of kisses down his smooth neck. Gwen and the tasks she was charged to complete were long forgotten.
“I want you,” Arthur said, his breath warm in Merlin’s ear.
“And do you always get what you want?” Merlin asked.
“You would question your king?” Arthur asked teasingly, his teeth grazing Merlin’s earlobe.
“Do you always treat your servants with such authority?” Merlin asked.
“As if I can control you,” Arthur said with a light chuckle.
Merlin couldn’t keep from breaking into a brilliant smile.
“Your wish is my command, my Lord,” Merlin said.
Arthur didn’t need to utter another word. Merlin gave him a tiny shove and they both tumbled onto the bed.
Arthur wrapped a hand around Merlin’s shoulders and rotated him so he lay on his back with Arthur sprawled out on top of him, hot with morning heat and wanting.
Merlin let his hips cant upward to rub his cock against Arthur. For so many nights, he had dreamed of what it would feel like to have Arthur’s weight pressing him into the mattress of his royal bed. And now his dream was coming true. The fragrant scent of Arthur’s hair filled Merlin’s head as he sunk back into the plush pillows. The taste of Arthur’s lips on his was intoxicating.
Arthur’s hand found Merlin’s warm belly. He palmed at Merlin’s cock through his breeches, the fabric straining against the unmistakable bulge of swollen desire.
“Tell me, Merlin,” Arthur said, pressing his lax mouth to Merlin’s chest, his flank, his belly. When he arrived at his journey’s end, down into the folds of Merlin’s breeches, he softly bit at the strained seam.
Merlin whined in response to the heat of Arthur’s mouth against his most intimate flesh.
“Hasn’t anyone ever let you put your cock in their mouth?” Arthur asked.
Merlin moaned, his only answer to Arthur’s question. His thighs trembled with anticipation.
Arthur fumbled with the laces of Merlin’s breeches. It seems like his single-minded ambition was to find how long it would take for him to make his manservant fall apart.
“Arthur,” Merlin cried out when Arthur’s hand found the warm hard cock that lay beneath Merlin’s clothes.
“No one, Merlin?” Arthur said, blowing gently on the beaded drops that escaped from Merlin’s slit.
Merlin heard the teasing in Arthur’s voice. He wanted to shout at him to get on with it, but just as he took a breath, Arthur licked Merlin’s cock from root to tip.
“Not a pretty maid from the tavern? Not one of the sweet stableboys? Surely there were many of them whose mouth ached to taste you,” Arthur teased as he rolled Merlin’s balls in the palm of one hand.
“No one, Arthur,” Merlin moaned, “they never wanted me.”
Arthur was silent and Merlin felt his heart clench. It was a sad truth that Merlin had been too busy tending to Arthur’s needs and serving his king. He never sought to be with someone intimately.
“Only you,” he whispered, softly enough so Arthur wouldn’t hear.
“You dreamed of it though, didn’t you?” Arthur asked. His tongue darted forward to lick at the slick trail of stickiness that seeped from Merlin’s prick. That earned him a groan that rumbled from Merlin’s chest and made his body shudder from top to tail.
“You imagined what it would feel like for someone to suck your cock,” Arthur said. “For me to suck your cock.”
It was as if Arthur knew he was tormenting Merlin with his questioning-and he loved to see him squirm.
Arthur undoubtedly got a thrill to know that he was the first person to ever see Merlin undone like this. Merlin had confessed that no one had ever tasted him there before. Arthur probably doubted that Merlin had put a hand to himself in all the years that had passed since he came into his service.
“Please,” Merlin gasped. “By all the gods, please touch me.”
And for once, Arthur obeyed. He took Merlin deep into his mouth and lavished attention on his cock.
Merlin frantically gripped the bedclothes. Both joy and regret spiralled through his thoughts. He wanted to cry out an apology to Arthur. He was sorry for lying to him, sorry for lying all along, about his feelings about Arthur, about Gwen, about magic.
Most of all, Merlin regretted that he was supposed to be on Gwen’s side. He was supposed to be helping the couple resolve their differences so they could live happily in Camelot again, but instead, Merlin found himself luxuriating in the king’s bed.
If he lost Arthur’s friendship over this, he didn’t care whether he burned on the pyre or not.
“Arthur,” Merlin cried, deciding that he wished to burn happily in the flames of love.
Merlin had hoped to extend his pleasure, but the sensation of Arthur’s lips on his cock was too much. His cock pulsed with the force of his orgasm, filling Arthur’s mouth with his warm come.
Arthur swallowed deeply and licked the mess from Merlin’s belly. He pressed kisses as we moved from waist to nipple to mouth while Merlin shuddered through the aftershocks.
Merlin moved quickly to repay the favour of Arthur’s attention. He manoeuvred his way from beneath Arthur until they were both on their sides. Merlin let his fingers trail over the muscles of Arthur’s chest. He pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s neck, taking time to flick his tongue over the salty skin.
Arthur’s cock prodded warmly against Merlin’s thigh. Slick with moisture that eased from its tip, his cock left a sticky trail on Merlin’s skin.
Merlin’s palm skated down Arthur’s body to take his cock in hand. Even after all the years of bathing together on hunts and sharing quarters outside the castle, Merlin was surprised by the beauty of it. Long and pale with its flushed pink head peeking out from Arthur’s tight foreskin.
Arthur arched up to meet Merlin as he pressed forward, a small moan escaping his lips. He didn’t last nearly as long as Merlin had. Come sprayed over Merlin’s fist and onto the bedclothes.
“This land you’ve come to tell me about,” Arthur said, when they both lay in each other’s arms after their breathing settled.
“Yes?” Merlin asked, threading his fingers with Arthur’s. He could barely remember why he had come to Arthur’s bedchamber in the first place this morning.
“The next time you travel back to Scarborough… tell her to plough it with a ram's horn, and sow it all over with one peppercorn,” Arthur said.
“Anything else, Sire?” Merlin asked, still dazed from their lovemaking.
“Tell her to shear it with a sickle of leather,” Arthur said, his voice sleepy, “and gather it all in a bunch of heather. Tell her to thrash it on yonder wall, and never let one corn of it fall.”
Merlin was too worn out to care about the puzzle of Arthur’s words. He settled into Arthur’s embrace and fell asleep.
~
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Canon era
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
A/N: Scarborough Fair was written for the After Camlann Big Bang and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt. Thanks to my talented artist rishimakapur, my cheerleader gilli_ann, my proofreader gibbous_moon, and my wonderful beta lawgoddess.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
Tell her to find me an acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Between the salt water and the sea strand,
Then she’ll be a true love of mine.
“I don’t know, Gaius,” Merlin said when he made it safely inside Gaius’s workshop. “This poetry shit is getting deep.”
Gaius snorted. “Language, Merlin,” he said. His eyes roved over Merlin’s excessively wrinkled clothing and rumpled hair. “What on earth happened to you?”
Merlin’s shoulders slumped. “I brought Arthur the shirt that he wanted from Gwen,” he said, stripping off his jacket and his neckerchief, which dangled askew.
“And how did it go?” Gaius asked. “Will he welcome Gwen back to Camelot?”
“Everything seemed fine until the conversation became all about Arthur and his feelings,” he said with a sigh.
“Feelings? The only feelings I’ve noticed Arthur expressing lately are the ones of anger that end up with you in the stocks,” Gaius said.
“Oh, believe me, that’s the last thing that will happen to me now,” Merlin said. He went to the basin and splashed his face with cold water.
Gaius raised an eyebrow. “What happened when you gave Arthur the shirt? Did he at least see reason where Gwen is concerned?” Gaius asked.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it reason,” Merlin said, drying his face on a sheet of linen, and hoping that Gaius didn’t notice any reddening the king’s stubble might have left on his skin. “Not only does he seem to have a complete change in plans, but he also assigned Gwen a new task to perform.”
“But I thought she was supposed to make a shirt and that was the end of it?” Gaius said.
“It’s gotten a bit more complicated than that,” Merlin said, drying his hands. He wished he could tell Gaius the truth, but he feared that his mentor would go mad if he told him that he used magic to make the shirt for Gwen. “I have to ride back to Scarborough to give Gwen the bad news.”
“Poor girl,” Gaius said, shaking his head. “Did the shirt fail to meet with Arthur’s approval?”
“Something like that,” Merlin said.
“Gwen has suffered a lot in her young life. Do you think she’ll be very disappointed that there’s more work to be done?” Gaius asked.
Merlin clamped his lips closed and tried to look stern. “Very disappointed,” he said. He couldn’t very well tell Gaius that Gwen seemed like she couldn’t care less whether she returned to Camelot or not. Nor that the new task Arthur had assigned Gwen was even more impossible to accomplish than the first.
“Well, you know the king’s wishes best,” Gaius said. “If he demands that Gwen do more, it is your duty to tell her-both as her friend, and as Arthur’s manservant.”
Merlin mulled over the word manservant in his mind. A manservant who Arthur kissed-on the lips!
“Take heart,” Gaius said, patting Merlin’s shoulder. “The three of you have weathered worse storms. If you succeed in bringing Gwen back to Camelot, things can go back to normal, just like you wanted.”
“I hope so,” Merlin said.
“Merlin? You wouldn’t have used your magic to help Gwen with her task, would you?” Gaius asked.
“No, of course not,” Merlin said. “Magic is as illegal in Camelot as it ever was.”
“Hmmm….” Gaius said suspiciously.
“Gaius, I’m not foolish enough to risk my life just to bring a lovesick couple together,” Merlin insisted. “I use my magic only for Arthur, and that’s all I’ll ever use it for. I’m just talking to Arthur and Gwen about reconciling and hoping that they’ll listen to me. They’re meant to be together, aren’t they?”
“You seem to think so,” Gaius said.
That night, Merlin tossed and turned, even without the lingonberries.
Merlin dreamed himself in Arthur’s bedchamber, the king’s lips hot on his neck.
“You were a fool to try to repair my relationship with Gwen,” Arthur said.
Merlin moaned softly when Arthur’s teeth caught his earlobe and sucked sloppily enough to make Merlin squirm.
“Don’t you know that all I’ve ever wanted was you?” Arthur asked, his words of desire travelling straight to Merlin’s sleeping cock.
“Arthur,” Merlin moaned as he framed Arthur’s face in his hands. “I need to show you something.’
Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the room suddenly became filled with tiny golden dragons that darted between the bedposts and perched atop the furnishings.
When Merlin next looked into Arthur’s eyes, they were filled with horror.
“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice echoed through his bedchamber, but the lush Camelot crimson sheets that decorated the King’s chambers were not found on his simple bed. No, Merlin’s bed was as plain and unadorned as ever. His bed had served as a resting place for an injured traveller or a triage post for Gaius to examine the bloody and battered who sought shelter with the physician and his apprentice. Now Merlin exhibited the same sweat-matted hair and the hollow expression of those who had gone to battle.
But his battle was more complicated than one fought on a field of war.
Merlin gazed around his simple quarters, the thin bedsheet pooling at his waist, the summer night requiring no heavy blanket or bed-warmer of hot coals stolen from the king’s chambers. Alone, Merlin took deep breaths as he tried to establish some feeling of normalcy.
He sipped from the cup of water at his bedside, the lukewarm liquid stagnant from the summer air in this lonely room of the castle. Above his desk the moonlight shone through the streaked pane of glass. The sun showed no sign of rising any time soon. Merlin slumped back into his mattress, the horsehair shifting with the jut of a hipbone and the shove of an elbow.
There were so many secrets that Arthur could never learn, no matter how fond of Arthur Merlin had become.
Merlin tried to settle himself. But the dream of his magic revealed made his heart beat more loudly than the drums that once echoed through the courtyard to signal the burning of a sorcerer on the pyre in the days when Uther ruled over Camelot. He pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on Arthur and the kiss they shared.
Merlin longed to kiss Arthur again. He imagined climbing the stairs to his chambers before morning broke, but he thought better of it. Arthur would be furious if Merlin awoke him now, running to his chambers like a girl to tell him that a frightening dream roused him from a sound sleep. Besides, there was Gwen to think about.
A liaison with Arthur should be the furthest thing from Merlin’s mind.
~
“Merlin, I have such fantastic news for you,” Gwen said.
Merlin could hardly believe it when Gwen rushed into his arms. He thought he’d have a hard time finding her, now that the grand Scarborough Fair was in full swing. The main road bustled with tourists and the cries of vendors as the hawked their wares.
“I have news for you as well,” Merlin said, embracing his friend. “Good news and a bit of bad news-but nothing we can’t overcome together.”
“Tell me your good news first,” Gwen said, stepping back to let Merlin unshoulder the satchel of fresh herbs he had brought to market.
“The good news is that Arthur loved the shirt,” Merlin said happily. “And the bad-”
“Lancelot has come to Scarborough,” Gwen blurted out, her smile bright with joy.
“Oh,” Merlin said. “Oh, dear.” His enthusiasm dimmed as quickly as it had flared.
“Merlin, Lancelot is your friend,” Gwen said. “You must have been worried sick about him. I thought you’d be happy to know that he is well.”
“Yes, of course,” Merlin said. He looked around nervously at the surrounding stalls, full of shoppers and traders.
“He’s not here now, silly,” Gwen said, lightly punching Merlin’s arm. “He’s in Caerleon, training as one of Queen Annis’s guards. But he’ll be back to Scarborough as soon as he gets his first chance. I think he really loves me.”
Merlin’s eyes went wide. He didn’t want to disappoint Gwen, but he was sure that Gwen was destined to be with Arthur. He couldn’t allow this love affair with Lancelot to proceed. What was Gwen thinking? He had already risked his life by revealing his magic to her when they made the shirt. Didn’t that mean anything to her?
Of course Lancelot was appealing with his thick dark hair and his skill with the sword, but Arthur’s hair glowed like the sun, and his sword skills were twice those of Lancelot’s. Merlin could hardly believe that Gwen would risk disappointing the king.
“That’s awful,” Merlin said. “I mean, I’m glad someone loves you, but you’re wonderful Gwen-everyone loves you. I hope you’re not making a mistake by hoping that Lancelot will love you more than Arthur does.”
“Merlin!” Gwen said with her hands on her hips. “I would have thought a sensitive fellow like you would know that love doesn’t work that way. I’m not hoping for anything, I’m just delighted that Lancelot is doing well after our incident with Arthur.”
“I know,” Merlin said, “but it’s Arthur who you’re supposed to love.”
Gwen laughed, “You obviously don’t know the first thing about love then,” she said. “There are no strict rules about it. It’s about how you feel toward someone special.”
It was true that Merlin didn’t know much about the kind of love Gwen was going on about, but he dreaded bringing Arthur the disappointing news that Gwen had rebuffed his offer to return to his side.
Gwen didn’t even care enough to hear the bad news Merlin had brought. Before they could finish their discussion, one of the fair’s vendors, a man holding a broken chain, approached Gwen.
“Can you tell me where I can take this to be repaired?” he asked her, the metal jangling in his hands.
“What is it? It looks like something the smith can fix,” Gwen said.
“Yes, a smith ought to be able to do it,” the man said.
“Well, then,” Gwen said, taking the man’s arm. “He’s a bit hard to find. I’ll take you there myself.”
“But, Gwen?” Merlin said.
“You can leave your herbs in my stall and I’ll tend to them later,” Gwen said. “I need to get back to my vendors.”
“But what about Arthur?” Merlin asked.
“I’m finished talking about him with you,” Gwen said. “Take a look around. Try to enjoy yourself.”
Merlin knew Gwen was doing her best to hide how annoyed she was with him. But what was he to do now? With Lancelot back in the picture and Arthur waiting in Camelot for Gwen to complete the next task, Merlin alone had the responsibility for bringing Gwen and Arthur back together.
He left his satchel of herbs and wandered among the stalls. Silken fabric of every colour hung from the stall beside Gwen’s workshop. Merlin let the soft fabric slide through his hands as he admired the rich designs and the pretty images that were rendered onto the silk. Further along, a woodworker displayed his carvings of animals that some lucky child would receive as a toy.
Merlin walked through the centre of the village that had been transformed by the fair. Everyone seemed happy to sell their wares and to be able to purchase rare items that usually were not available to them.
Thoughts of Arthur weighed heavily on Merlin’s mind as he turned down a side road that led to the sea. He wanted Gwen and Arthur to reunite, but now that Lancelot had reappeared in Gwen’s life, it seemed less likely that Gwen would be willing to reconcile with Arthur.
And then, there was Arthur.
Merlin swept his thumb over his lips and remembered the kiss they had shared. He had tried to forget that it had happened at all, but he wondered if Arthur was truly sorry, blaming it on the wine, instead of his own feelings.
The road dipped ahead to where it met the sea. Merlin followed the worn path through the heather, descending at an angle toward the beach. To Merlin’s left, a stone wall separated the road from the sand, but on his right, the sandy shoreline stretched as far as Merlin could see.
The beachfront was quiet. It seemed like everyone within a ten mile radius of Scarborough had been sucked into the activities of the fair. A gentle breeze rose off the water and swept Merlin’s hair off his sweaty forehead.
He had ridden half the day to give Arthur’s message to Gwen, but it was no use. She likely had no intention of reconciling with him, not now that Lancelot was back in her life. She probably didn’t even want to return to Camelot.
Merlin sat in the grass that sprung up between the rocks by the sandy shore. He wrapped his hands around his knees and thought about what should be done. If he returned to Arthur without accomplishing the task he required of Gwen, Arthur would never allow Gwen back in Camelot. But maybe if he completed the task for Gwen, there was still hope that Gwen would return. She might want to visit Elyan someday.
Lancelot had always seemed nice enough to Merlin. But what if he rode off again, leaving Gwen behind in Scarborough, after she had given him her heart?
Gwen would need Arthur’s forgiveness and an end to their feuding. How else would they all get along together again? Arthur needed a partner. Gwen needed to become Arthur’s queen. Merlin knew what he had to do.
Taking a quick look around the seashore, Merlin couldn’t see anyone loitering far from the town centre. He held his right hand over the horizon and spoke. His eyes flared gold as the ancient words tumbled out of his mouth.
When he finished casting his spell, his lips were clamped shut, his jaw resolute, and a patch of dry land the size of an acre had risen from the ocean floor where once there had been only waves.
~
Merlin rode all night, without bothering to say goodbye to Gwen. When he reached Camelot, he left his horse with a stable-boy and hurried to Gaius’s workshop. The sun was just beginning to rise and he knew his mentor would wake soon, so he didn’t bother to be quiet.
In his room, he stripped off his soiled tunic and left it on the floor. Taking a fresh tunic from his cupboard, he hurried to the workshop and poured water into the basin. He washed quickly, splashing water onto his face with his hands.
Gaius woke and propped himself up on his cot. He looked surprised to see Merlin had returned to Camelot already.
“Merlin, what on earth are you doing?” Gaius asked. “I didn’t expect you to return for at least a few days.”
“I had to come back,” Merlin said. “I have more good news for Arthur. I just wanted to freshen up a bit before I saw him.”
Gaius looked sceptical. “As I recall, your news wasn’t received very well the last time you returned from Scarborough,” he said. Flinging off his blanket, he hunted around on the floor for his slippers.
For a brief moment, Merlin thought Gaius wouldn’t ask him what happened with Arthur’s latest request. He was thrilled with his accomplishment at bringing the land from the sea, but he didn’t want Gaius to find out that he used his magic for what Gaius would consider a foolish project.
“What have you done now, Merlin?” Gaius asked. “You look like the cat who swallowed the canary.”
“I did it. I completed the second task that Arthur expected Gwen to do,” Merlin said.
Gaius shoved his feet into his slippers and sat on the bed. “Merlin,” he said. “Do you mean to tell me that you performed the task in Gwen’s stead?
Merlin’s face dropped. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Merlin asked. “Arthur simply wanted the task to be completed. He never said anything about me helping Gwen or not. At least, I don’t think he meant it like that.”
Merlin scratched his head.
Gaius’s eyebrow shot up. “And you haven’t told Arthur that you completed this additional chore he assigned to Gwen?”
“Not yet,” Merlin said. “I wanted to surprise him. He doesn’t know I’m back.”
Gaius sighed. “You need to sit down,” he said, motioning for Merlin to take a seat at the small table that was strewn with vials and scattered bundles of dried herbs.
Merlin pulled out his chair and sat. “I really need to get to Arthur,” he said. “He’ll be excited to hear the news.”
“You’re convinced that bringing Arthur and Gwen back together is the right thing to do?” Gaius asked, taking the seat across from Merlin.
Merlin traced a finger around one of the vials. “Well, yes. They belong together, don’t they?” he asked, although he feared that he knew exactly what Gaius was talking about. It was one thing to help Gwen, but if his mentor learned that he had used magic to help Gwen accomplish the tasks, he would be very disappointed. “I want Arthur to be happy, and the way he’s been lately…. he loves Gwen,” Merlin said with a shrug.
“Merlin,” Gaius said with a raised an eyebrow. “I worry that you know very little about how love works.”
“Gwen said that to me, too,” Merlin said.
They remained in silence for a time, with Merlin staring out over the work table, his face twisted with confusion. The chirp of crickets floated through the castle windows, promising the end to summer and the beginning of harvest time.
“Are you sure that you didn’t fall and hit your head?” Gaius asked.
“No,” Merlin said. “Why ever would you think so?”
“I worry that you’re suffering from some kind of mental affliction,” Gaius said. “You’re so single-minded about bringing Gwen back to Camelot, you’re ignoring the very reason why she might not want to return.”
Merlin fidgeted in his seat. He hoped that Gaius wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable the questions made him.
“You think she loves Lancelot more than Arthur?” Merlin asked.
“It could be,” Gaius said. “You must be careful. It’s good of you to help Gwen get back together with Arthur, but you shouldn’t do so unless it is truly what’s in Gwen’s heart.”
“I promise to be careful,” Merlin said. “I’m just trying to get things back to normal. Now, I really need to get Arthur his breakfast,” Merlin said, pushing out his chair. “You know how he gets when he’s hungry.”
He left Gaius in his workshop and scrambled for the door. Knowing that Arthur would be awake soon, Merlin grabbed the laundry from the washing that hung in the kitchen and got a platter of breakfast foods from the cook.
He ran up the stairs to the king’s bedchamber with food, clothing, and the good news about the land, although Gaius’s caution made Merlin a bit nervous about revealing that the task had been completed.
~
Merlin caught the king just as he rose for the day. He set Arthur’s clothing aside and dropped a fresh square of linen beside Arthur’s plate. Then he went to the window and threw the draperies open to gaze out into the morning light.
“You won’t believe what good news I have for you today,” Merlin said happily.
“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said.
“That’s no way to greet your manservant,” Merlin said.
Arthur peered out from beneath his royal coverlet. “You’re not going to tell me that Gwen found the land I instructed you to tell her about,” Arthur said, wagging his finger at Merlin.
“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Sire,” Merlin said.
“I don’t want to hear it,” Arthur said, pulling the covers over his head.
It was almost like old times-the silly banter they would engage in long before Arthur sent Gwen away.
“You could listen to what I have to s-” Merlin began, but his words were cut off by Arthur.
“Merlin, that’s enough,” Arthur said. He pushed himself from the bed and stood on his feet, coming face to face with Merlin. “You’re lying. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the view from the stocks, hasn’t it? Don’t make this be the day when I send you to get reacquainted with them.”
“I was merely suggesting that you’d like to hear what Gwen accomplished so you can welcome her back,” Merlin said, raising his hands in surrender and taking a step backwards. “I was there when she secured the land. She’s amazing.”
“And I suggest that you spend the day mucking out my stables,” Arthur said. “It should give you plenty of time to think about why you insist on claiming that Gwen did any such thing.”
“You don’t believe me?” Merlin said. He sighed and began to fold the laundry he had brought to Arthur’s chambers. There had to be some way that he could convince Arthur that the acre of land existed, there above the sea in Scarborough.
“Have you seen my blue tunic?” Arthur asked. He paced in front of the wardrobe where Merlin had moved on to hanging his clothes, fresh from the castle laundry.
“I don’t think you have a blue tunic,” Merlin replied, taking another red tunic from where it lay across the chair. He held the garment up with outstretched hands and fussed with the sleeves until they were evenly draped on each side.
“I’m sure it was in here somewhere,” Arthur said. He stepped between the wardrobe and Merlin, grabbing at clothing that was folded and stored already in its place.
“Arthur-” Merlin tried to stop him, but it was too late. He’d have to begin the task again. At least the clothing remained clean this time. It hadn’t suffered from one of the king’s more destructive tirades that involved red wine or a plum pudding.
“Merlin, have you no idea how you are supposed to address your king?” Arthur asked, his hand clasped to his forehead in despair, the clothes strewn around his feet.
“Stop it, Arthur, you don’t mean that,” Merlin said, letting his anger about the rumpled clothes fuel his confidence.
“Don’t tell me what I mean. I’m the king. It’s my job to give orders and your job to listen and obey,” Arthur said.
Merlin would have none of this. “Arthur, what’s happened to you? One day, you seemed destined to reign over Camelot in peace with Gwen. Then, you exile her. One day, you were my friend. Now, you’re pulling this power play on me. I miss you. I miss the old you, and I think you miss the way things used to be too.”
Arthur planted his hands on his hips and pouted like a petulant child.
“There are responsibilities that come with being the king that you couldn’t possibly understand. I do what I must to run the kingdom. I must treat the subjects the way they should be treated-the way my father did. I must behave like a king-the way my father did. That’s what it means to be a great king. I cannot love someone, if the people will lose their respect for their king because of who I love,” Arthur said, before proceeding to rummage through the wardrobe again.
“Right,” Merlin nodded with a sarcastic grin on his face. “Your father was a great king.”
Merlin tried to get the image of sorcerers burning on a pyre out of his mind, tried not to imagine the feel of the axe blade as it struck a magic-user’s neck.
“He was a great king, Merlin. Don’t give me that look,” Arthur said. “It’s inappropriate.”
“I’m not giving you any kind of inappropriate look,” Merlin said with a laugh. He stooped to pick another garment off the floor for folding. He tried not to notice that a smile crossed Arthur’s lips. It seemed like it had been too long since he had seen joy on Arthur’s face.
“What would he do, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice grew quiet.
Merlin dropped the tunic he was holding. It fell to the floor with the other clothes that Arthur had left there.
“About what?” Merlin asked.
Arthur made no reply. A soft morning breeze swept through the open window of the bedchamber.
“I think you know what he would do,” Merlin said, his voice as gentle as possible. “He’d find a way to do what was right. That’s what a truly great king would do.”
Arthur leaned against the wardrobe. “And how exactly would he do that, Merlin?”
Merlin took a step toward Arthur. Merlin knew how much Arthur respected his father. If he could get Arthur to see reason by comparing himself to his father, he would try. “He’d find an answer that he could live with. Even if it meant throwing everything he believed in by the wayside. If he could see an answer that made sense to him, he’d embrace it. You could do the same thing.”
“How can I, Merlin? To cast off old ingrained beliefs... sometimes it’s simply impossible,” Arthur closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s no more impossible than when your father used sorcery to bring you into the world, and no more impossible than it was for him to order the purge that followed,” Merlin said. His heart pounded as he tried to convince Arthur to make a decision he wouldn’t regret. He wasn’t used to throwing around sorcery so casually when the fear of Arthur learning about his magic haunted his daily thoughts.
“My father did what he thought was right. He cared about the people. I care about the people. I always have their best interests in mind. I’d lay down my life for them,” Arthur said.
“The people trust you to do what’s right,” Merlin said. “As much as you’d like to believe that you are as resolute as your father, you’re not. You’re doubtful and worried about perceptions. These feelings could be resolved if you would allow yourself to do this one thing. You need to forgive Gwen.”
Arthur’s eyes remained closed. His knees buckled and he let himself slide to the floor, bracing his back on the side of the wardrobe. When he came to a rest, he turned away from Merlin. “What if the people hate me for what I do?” he asked. “What if I haven’t I done enough for them to make them hold me in high esteem? What if it wasn’t enough to lose my mother… my father… Gwen…?”
“They couldn’t hate you,” Merlin said, dropping to his knees. He hesitated only momentarily before he touched his hand to Arthur’s shoulder in an effort to ground him, to show him that someone cared. And it wasn’t just for show, some pathetic display to obtain the king’s favour. Merlin did care. He cared especially when the people closest to Arthur had vanished from his life.
Arthur raised his eyes to Merlin. “And yet, you want me to forgive Gwen?”
“You need to find a way,” Merlin said.
Arthur seemed to relax at the feel of Merlin’s hand on his shoulder. Merlin hoped that his words were finally making sense to him.
“You can do it,” Merlin reminded Arthur.
“It’s up to me alone,” Arthur added, uncertainly.
“You’re not alone,” Merlin said, trying to encourage him.
“You know, Merlin,” Arthur said, reaching up and covering Merlin’s hand with his own. “Sometimes, I think you’re very wise.”
“You really think so?” Merlin asked.
“Either that, or you’re just very lucky,” Arthur said. His lips curled into a smile, one that Merlin had been sorely missing.
“Come on, you,” Merlin said. “It’s time to start your day. I won’t have the knights blaming me when you arrive late to the training field.”
Merlin turned his hand so Arthur’s palm lay flat against his. He stood up, his hand never breaking contact with Arthur’s. When he stood, he gave it small tug to draw the king to his feet.
“Go make your plans for the morning, while I pick up this mess,” Merlin said.
It didn’t take more than a moment for Merlin to realize that Arthur hadn’t let go of Merlin’s hand. Merlin’s eyes went to where their hands were joined. His own fingers were long and slim, nimble for gathering mushrooms, or picking herbs. Powerful for casting spells.
Arthur’s fingers were nearly the same length, but rough from years of practice with a sword, strong from the power he wielded over his kingdom.
Arthur’s hands were warm.
Merlin thought for certain that Arthur would laugh at their contact and release his hand. His eyes roamed from their hands to Arthur’s face. Merlin gasped with surprise when instead of letting go, Arthur pulled him closer and leaned to press his forehead against Merlin’s.
Merlin flushed from the intimacy of the contact. He felt Arthur’s breath, warm on his face.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked.
Merlin had never felt like he knew less about love than he did in that moment. He was in Arthur’s chambers, intent on telling him that Gwen had accomplished his task-the task for which Arthur would let her return to Camelot. But here he was, falling into Arthur’s arms, secretly hoping that Arthur wanted him the same way he wanted Arthur.
Merlin could barely breathe as he dared to surge forward to capture Arthur’s lips with his. After a moment, he was not disappointed when Arthur gave a soft moan while tasting his mouth, the press of his warm tongue sweeping across Merlin’s lips before thrusting inside in a clash of teeth. The sounds Arthur made slid down Merlin’s spine and made his cock grow hard in his breeches.
Arthur met Merlin breath for breath, his hands clutching at Merlin’s tunic. He tugged at the fabric until his hands met with the warm skin of Merlin’s back.
Merlin pulled away for air, his teeth scraping Arthur’s jaw while Arthur left a trail of kisses down his smooth neck. Gwen and the tasks she was charged to complete were long forgotten.
“I want you,” Arthur said, his breath warm in Merlin’s ear.
“And do you always get what you want?” Merlin asked.
“You would question your king?” Arthur asked teasingly, his teeth grazing Merlin’s earlobe.
“Do you always treat your servants with such authority?” Merlin asked.
“As if I can control you,” Arthur said with a light chuckle.
Merlin couldn’t keep from breaking into a brilliant smile.
“Your wish is my command, my Lord,” Merlin said.
Arthur didn’t need to utter another word. Merlin gave him a tiny shove and they both tumbled onto the bed.
Arthur wrapped a hand around Merlin’s shoulders and rotated him so he lay on his back with Arthur sprawled out on top of him, hot with morning heat and wanting.
Merlin let his hips cant upward to rub his cock against Arthur. For so many nights, he had dreamed of what it would feel like to have Arthur’s weight pressing him into the mattress of his royal bed. And now his dream was coming true. The fragrant scent of Arthur’s hair filled Merlin’s head as he sunk back into the plush pillows. The taste of Arthur’s lips on his was intoxicating.
Arthur’s hand found Merlin’s warm belly. He palmed at Merlin’s cock through his breeches, the fabric straining against the unmistakable bulge of swollen desire.
“Tell me, Merlin,” Arthur said, pressing his lax mouth to Merlin’s chest, his flank, his belly. When he arrived at his journey’s end, down into the folds of Merlin’s breeches, he softly bit at the strained seam.
Merlin whined in response to the heat of Arthur’s mouth against his most intimate flesh.
“Hasn’t anyone ever let you put your cock in their mouth?” Arthur asked.
Merlin moaned, his only answer to Arthur’s question. His thighs trembled with anticipation.
Arthur fumbled with the laces of Merlin’s breeches. It seems like his single-minded ambition was to find how long it would take for him to make his manservant fall apart.
“Arthur,” Merlin cried out when Arthur’s hand found the warm hard cock that lay beneath Merlin’s clothes.
“No one, Merlin?” Arthur said, blowing gently on the beaded drops that escaped from Merlin’s slit.
Merlin heard the teasing in Arthur’s voice. He wanted to shout at him to get on with it, but just as he took a breath, Arthur licked Merlin’s cock from root to tip.
“Not a pretty maid from the tavern? Not one of the sweet stableboys? Surely there were many of them whose mouth ached to taste you,” Arthur teased as he rolled Merlin’s balls in the palm of one hand.
“No one, Arthur,” Merlin moaned, “they never wanted me.”
Arthur was silent and Merlin felt his heart clench. It was a sad truth that Merlin had been too busy tending to Arthur’s needs and serving his king. He never sought to be with someone intimately.
“Only you,” he whispered, softly enough so Arthur wouldn’t hear.
“You dreamed of it though, didn’t you?” Arthur asked. His tongue darted forward to lick at the slick trail of stickiness that seeped from Merlin’s prick. That earned him a groan that rumbled from Merlin’s chest and made his body shudder from top to tail.
“You imagined what it would feel like for someone to suck your cock,” Arthur said. “For me to suck your cock.”
It was as if Arthur knew he was tormenting Merlin with his questioning-and he loved to see him squirm.
Arthur undoubtedly got a thrill to know that he was the first person to ever see Merlin undone like this. Merlin had confessed that no one had ever tasted him there before. Arthur probably doubted that Merlin had put a hand to himself in all the years that had passed since he came into his service.
“Please,” Merlin gasped. “By all the gods, please touch me.”
And for once, Arthur obeyed. He took Merlin deep into his mouth and lavished attention on his cock.
Merlin frantically gripped the bedclothes. Both joy and regret spiralled through his thoughts. He wanted to cry out an apology to Arthur. He was sorry for lying to him, sorry for lying all along, about his feelings about Arthur, about Gwen, about magic.
Most of all, Merlin regretted that he was supposed to be on Gwen’s side. He was supposed to be helping the couple resolve their differences so they could live happily in Camelot again, but instead, Merlin found himself luxuriating in the king’s bed.
If he lost Arthur’s friendship over this, he didn’t care whether he burned on the pyre or not.
“Arthur,” Merlin cried, deciding that he wished to burn happily in the flames of love.
Merlin had hoped to extend his pleasure, but the sensation of Arthur’s lips on his cock was too much. His cock pulsed with the force of his orgasm, filling Arthur’s mouth with his warm come.
Arthur swallowed deeply and licked the mess from Merlin’s belly. He pressed kisses as we moved from waist to nipple to mouth while Merlin shuddered through the aftershocks.
Merlin moved quickly to repay the favour of Arthur’s attention. He manoeuvred his way from beneath Arthur until they were both on their sides. Merlin let his fingers trail over the muscles of Arthur’s chest. He pressed a soft kiss to Arthur’s neck, taking time to flick his tongue over the salty skin.
Arthur’s cock prodded warmly against Merlin’s thigh. Slick with moisture that eased from its tip, his cock left a sticky trail on Merlin’s skin.
Merlin’s palm skated down Arthur’s body to take his cock in hand. Even after all the years of bathing together on hunts and sharing quarters outside the castle, Merlin was surprised by the beauty of it. Long and pale with its flushed pink head peeking out from Arthur’s tight foreskin.
Arthur arched up to meet Merlin as he pressed forward, a small moan escaping his lips. He didn’t last nearly as long as Merlin had. Come sprayed over Merlin’s fist and onto the bedclothes.
“This land you’ve come to tell me about,” Arthur said, when they both lay in each other’s arms after their breathing settled.
“Yes?” Merlin asked, threading his fingers with Arthur’s. He could barely remember why he had come to Arthur’s bedchamber in the first place this morning.
“The next time you travel back to Scarborough… tell her to plough it with a ram's horn, and sow it all over with one peppercorn,” Arthur said.
“Anything else, Sire?” Merlin asked, still dazed from their lovemaking.
“Tell her to shear it with a sickle of leather,” Arthur said, his voice sleepy, “and gather it all in a bunch of heather. Tell her to thrash it on yonder wall, and never let one corn of it fall.”
Merlin was too worn out to care about the puzzle of Arthur’s words. He settled into Arthur’s embrace and fell asleep.
~