Fic: Springes to Catch Woodcocks Chapter 7
cover by lolafiest
Springes to Catch Woodcocks: Chapter 7 on AO3 or
Springes to Catch Woodcocks, Chapter 7: Of that Dye, Which Their Investments Show
The pub was a riot of noise, the knights joining right in and adding to the ruckus as the redheaded barmaid came flouncing over to their table. She plopped down in Leon’s lap, looping her arm around his shoulders so her bosom was presented like two plump apples on a platter beneath Leon’s chin.
Leon looked hungrily at them, then at the barmaid’s mischievous grin, then stood quickly, dumping her to the floor so that he had to catch her up around the waist as she stumbled. Before she could do more than squeak in surprise, Leon scooped her up and strode through the curtain at the back of the tavern into the rooms Merlin had only heard boasting tales of.
Merlin grinned and took a long drink from his tankard, returning the bartender’s friendly smile and absently worrying his fingers over a rough knot in the wood of the bench where he sat.
He watched as Gwaine bellied up to the bar, one foot propped on a rung of a stool, arms folded on the bar top so he could lean in close to the barman, the hand running back through his hair a dead giveaway for what he must be saying. Merlin could just imagine the flirtatious words, the low drawl and seductive tone of Gwaine’s voice.
Merlin looked away, the ache in his chest an entirely different sort of torture to the kind he’d been feeling all night, since he’d gone to Arthur’s chamber to check on his wound.
Arthur hadn’t needed tending, truly - Merlin shouldn’t have gone - but he couldn’t stop thinking about how angry Arthur likely was about Merlin healing him with magic. Merlin had turned it over and over in his mind until his thoughts were a tight loop of worry and guilt. He’d needed to make sure Arthur wasn’t livid - and if he had been, Merlin had intended to somehow placate him. He couldn’t have Arthur angry with him; he wanted things to be civil between them, if nothing else.
Nothing else.
He took another gulp of his ale and sighed as Lancelot slipped in alongside him on the bench. Lancelot patted his thigh, and Merlin was glad for the simple gesture. Lancelot could read him far too easily for him to hide anything. He must’ve guessed that by this point, Merlin wasn’t capable of keeping up a mask of indifference over Arthur or Gwaine with someone who knew the truth already.
“Gwaine makes it look so easy,” Merlin whispered, looking across the bar and smirking as Gwaine grinned over his shoulder at him and Lancelot.
“Yes, he certainly knows how to put his best... uh... foot forward, doesn’t he?” Lancelot said, smirking and nodding in the direction of Gwaine’s round arse. It was pushed out at them as if on display for the entire tavern.
“If my bony arse was that attractive, I’d put it forward, too,” Merlin said, snorting. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t walk around backwards.”
Lancelot chuckled into his tankard, taking another drink and leaning his shoulder into Merlin’s. “He’s going to be all right, you know. Cat with nine lives, that one. Eight spent, of course, but he’ll land on his feet this time, I think.”
Merlin nodded, but couldn’t meet Lancelot’s eyes. “You know, he’s... tempting. It would be so much easier with him than... well. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it, the two of us being more than friends?”
“It does,” Lancelot said, tapping Merlin under the chin so he’d look up. “Or it would, if you hadn’t already lost your heart to another.”
Sighing, Merlin sank back against the wall, banging his head so hard it smarted. It was meagre punishment for the mess he’d made of things. “Arthur really does want me to leave. Perhaps I should just go. He’d be happier if I did.”
“Horseshit. You’ve seen how miserable he is without you at his side. His new manservant may be capable enough,” Lancelot said with a knowing look, “but make no mistake. Arthur is miserable. Just imagine if you were completely out of reach. Does he know why you won’t leave? Have you told him?”
“I’ve tried. Every time we speak, we just end up-” Merlin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t admit that I’m protecting him every bit as much as he wants to protect me. He’ll never admit he might actually need my help.”
“Not with you sitting here feeling sorry for yourself and him up in the castle doing the same. Keep at him. You know how stubborn he is.” Lancelot threw an arm around Merlin’s shoulder, ducking his head to catch Merlin’s gaze. “He needs you. And he cares for you.”
Merlin looked back over at the bar, at Gwaine, who was turned toward them now, leaning on his elbows, oozing confidence, scanning the crowd. “Gwaine needs me, too. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart broken.”
“Maybe this once, it’s his turn,” Lancelot murmured, and when Merlin looked at him in surprise, Lancelot’s eyes were narrowed at Gwaine. “He’s broken his fair share, you know. He’ll be fine.”
Seeing Lancelot’s attention so focused on Gwaine, a realization tickled at the back of his mind. What if...? “Lancelot?”
“Mmm hmm?” he asked absently, drinking deeply from his tankard, still staring at Gwaine.
“Nothing. Nevermind.” Merlin shook his head and fought down the grin that twitched at his lips. He was probably just imagining things.
“Go on, Merlin,” Lancelot said, finally looking away from Gwaine and giving Merlin’s shoulder a shake. “Go talk to Arthur. I’ll keep an eye on Gwaine.”
“Will you tell him to meet me in the tower later if he’s not... busy?” Merlin asked, watching as Gwaine held out his hand to a dark-haired young man who’d just sidled up to him.
“Looks like he might be a bit preoccupied just now,” Lancelot said, gesturing toward the man as he leaned in to whisper something to Gwaine. “That one looks a bit like you, doesn’t he?”
Merlin glanced at the two of them, and a wave of embarrassment heated his face. The young man was of Merlin’s height and build, and had raven hair only a bit longer than Merlin’s. He even had ears that suck out a bit too far.
Merlin’s stomach curled into a tight knot as Gwaine reached for the courtesan’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles on the bare skin exposed by the man’s unlaced tunic. Merlin knew the warm, soft strength of Gwaine’s touch, the way Gwaine’s focus narrowed in a way it almost never did.
It was impossible to steel himself against the shock of seeing Gwaine’s interest directed toward someone else, for all of Merlin’s well-reasoned refusals.
He stood, holding onto the table to steady himself. “Never mind the message - I’ll tell him myself,” he said, swallowing down the guilt. He’d never intended to hurt Gwaine, and the fact that he felt any degree of attraction and attachment toward him just made the whole thing more complex and painful. He wouldn’t stay and torture himself, wouldn’t wait to see if Gwaine would run fingers through the man’s hair, or press close when he kissed him.
Merlin had to leave, needed to speak to Arthur. “You just make sure he doesn’t drink half the bar. Arthur won’t foot the bill again if he does.”
Merlin crossed to Gwaine, who was obviously very carefully ignoring him. Merlin waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention, giving the man Gwaine was talking to a quick apologetic look. “A moment, please?” he asked.
The courtesan nodded curtly, leaned in to whisper against Gwaine’s ear, then stepped away, looking back at Gwaine with beckoning eyes as he stepped through the curtains.
Gwaine watched him go, his smile fading as he turned back to Merlin. “He saw me with the recruits today,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the man. “Thought I looked fit, apparently.”
“He’s not the only one, I think,” Merlin said, glancing quickly back at the table, smiling as Gwaine’s gaze slid to Lancelot. “You know what my mum always used to say?” he asked, reaching out to touch Gwaine’s arm, unable to resist reassuring himself that he still had that liberty.
The feeling of Gwaine’s warm skin beneath his fingertips was comforting and familiar. He paused, letting himself imagine for just a moment that there was no Arthur and he could tug his best friend out the door, run away with him and never look back. He would spend his life laughing with Gwaine, loving him, letting Gwaine’s passion spill over him and be enough for both of them.
But the red fall of Gwaine’s cloak caught his eye, the Pendragon insignia bold as the sun on his shoulder, and Merlin let his hand slide away.
“She used to say that opposites attract,” he said, looking pointedly at Lancelot, then back to Gwaine. If he was going to encourage a transfer of Gwaine’s affection to anyone, Lancelot was the one man Merlin could trust not to wound him. The courtesan waiting for Gwaine behind that curtain was only a temporary bandage, one that would soon wear thin and leave Gwaine’s wounds gaping and raw.
“Smart woman, your mum,” Gwaine said, lips quirking into a smile. As Merlin set his tankard on the bar and waved off another offered round from the barkeep, Gwaine straightened. “You’re not leaving already, are you?”
“Seems there’s a prince up at the citadel in need of a good talking-to. I think I know just the man for the job. Meet me in my tower in a couple of candlemarks? Unless, of course, he kills me this time.”
“Or unless you get him pissed and have your wicked way with him,” Gwaine teased, holding up his tankard in a mock toast.
“Or Cavill does,” Merlin joked, laughing as Gwaine shuddered comically at the thought of it.
Merlin gave him a quick pat on the shoulder and flagged down the bartender, calling for a bottle of wine. Gwaine was full of good ideas.
It was simple enough to change on the way to Arthur’s chamber, to duck into the disused room and go through the now-familiar ritual of transforming his visage and pulling on Cavill’s clothes. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice, practicing the slightly deeper tone he used as Cavill. He hefted the bottle of spirits he’d brought from the tavern and tried out some lines. “Thought you might need a nightcap, Sire... Excuse me, Sire. I thought some wine might speed your recovery. Let’s get you sloshed and see how handy you are with that sword.”
He sounded like a moron, he was well aware, but he made his way up to Arthur’s rooms anyway. Just as he raised his fist to knock, the door opened. Merlin half-hid the wine behind his back, trying to act nonchalant, as though Cavill routinely camped outside Arthur’s door with a bottle of wine, just waiting for Arthur’s orders.
“Good, you’re here,” Arthur said, brow furrowed as if confused. He leant around to see what Cavill held behind his back, then shrugged and waved Cavill into the room. “You read my mind, Cavill. Pour some of that for us and have a seat.”
He sagged down onto one of the regal armchairs by the fire, gesturing for Merlin to join him.
That Cavill showed up just when Merlin’s absence was becoming unbearable was pure luck. Arthur’d been brooding over their encounter all evening. He’d caught himself touching his healed wound more than once, as if he wanted any small reminder of Merlin and that one was literally palpable. Tangible proof that Merlin was still close by and didn’t loathe him.
“Here you are, Sire.” Cavill handed Arthur a full goblet, taking a seat beside him in front of the fire. “You look as though something is weighing on your mind.”
“What do you know of my predicament?” he asked, too exhausted to keep up pretences. It only made sense that Cavill would have overheard something of the situation with Merlin by now, especially if he’d been taking meals with the knights as he’d said. “You must’ve heard my men speaking of it.”
“Very little,” Cavill said, shrugging as Arthur arched an eyebrow at him. “Your knights generally believe that you ... are wounded.”
Arthur’s touched his side again, ready to protest, but Cavill shook his head slightly and Arthur’s hand fell away. Cavill hadn’t meant his physical wound, then, which meant he knew about Merlin and was trying to be discreet. Normally, Arthur might’ve appreciated the consideration, but he was sick of pretending tonight.
“I hadn’t thought them concerned enough to notice. They’re all very put out with me.” Arthur took a deep breath and sighed. What harm would it do to speak openly with Cavill? The man had proven himself a devoted servant of Camelot from the time he was a youngling. “But they’re not wrong, Cavill. I’m beginning to realize just how deep the wound is.”
“Sire,” Cavill began, pausing until Arthur looked over at him. “May I speak candidly?”
Arthur gestured with his goblet for Cavill to continue. “You might as well.”
Cavill nodded. “Your men say the young man in question is honourable and brave, that he risked his life for you and you turned him away for foolish reasons. They say he’ll be lost without you, and... and you without him.”
“They say all of that, do they?” Arthur murmured, surprised at just how much Cavill knew. The knights must trust him very much to speak so freely in front of him.
That Cavill hadn’t shown even a hint of contempt whilst referring to Merlin as “the young man” didn’t go unnoticed. He must not hold prejudice against men taking other men as lovers, but obviously he didn’t fully understand the situation. Arthur took a long drink and stared into the fire, wondering just how much the knights had told Cavill. “Do you know who he is?”
“I... yes, I do. I know quite a bit about him, actually. I’ve heard the tale of how he saved your life and those of Gwaine and Lancelot as well. He is either as brave as they claim or - forgive me - incredibly stupid.”
Arthur scoffed. “A bit of both, in my mind. He puts no value on his life whatsoever. He refuses to see just how complicated it would be for us to...”
“Perhaps he does see, Sire,” Cavill interrupted, leaning forward, arms resting on his knees. “Perhaps he chooses a life with you and all of the complications that would pose over a life without you.”
Arthur looked over at the old knight. “I cannot let him gamble his life on me. Not if I can stop him.”
“Your father would exile him? If he knew about the two of you?”
“My father wouldn’t hesitate to burn him for it.” Arthur closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to imagine Merlin tied to a stake in the courtyard beneath his window. He couldn’t make Cavill truly understand without also telling him of Merlin’s magic, which was out of the question, of course. “I’m meant to marry and produce an heir. Father overlooked my past... indiscretions, but he wouldn’t overlook this. I have a duty to ensure the future of the Pendragons..”
“There are ways around that. You’re not the first ruler whose inclinations ran in this direction. And he was your manservant. Your father might never have realized there was anything between you if you’d left things as they were.” Cavill leaned closer, lowering his voice though they were utterly alone together here. “What’s really stopping you?”
Arthur looked hard at him for a moment, then shook his head, reaching for the bottle, refilling his own cup. “We’ve not acknowledged the connection between us for very long - at least I haven’t. There was the war and before that, well, every woman was bewitched and the men...” Arthur gestured vaguely with his goblet and sighed. “I’d hoped the men were a passing fancy.”
“From what I’ve gleened, Merlin isn’t a passing fancy,” Cavill said gently
Arthur flinched at Merlin’s name on the old knight’s lips, as though not having said it up to now had made everything he’d admitted somehow less true.
“No,” Arthur admitted, staring into his cup. “I can’t imagine my feelings changing anytime soon.”
“And why would they?” Cavill went on. “The bond between you is as strong as any I’ve seen.I’ve seen how much he cares for you, Arthur.”
At the sound of his name, suspicion sliced through the warm, thin haze of the wine. Eyes narrowing at Cavill, Arthur set his mug down, anger flashing up hot and quick behind his eyes. He tensed, ready to throw the man bodily from his rooms. “Who sent you here tonight?”
“What?” Cavill asked, looking genuinely surprised. He pressed back in his chair as Arthur leaned forward.
“You seem to know a very great deal about Merlin and myself. My knights ‘ tongues may loosen when they’re in their cups, but they wouldn’t have confided so completely in you, and I can’t imagine Merlin would do so, either. You’ve never seen Merlin and I together, not once that I can recall. I won’t be played for a fool!” Arthur stood, hovering over Cavill, one word away from grabbing him by his collar and hurtling him out on his arse.
“Just how stupid do you think I am?” Cavill asked, jaw clenching as he stood chest to chest, meeting Arthur’s challenge without fear. “Your men didn’t send me and I didn’t need to hear a confession from Merlin, either! A man doesn’t pine the way you have without reason. He doesn’t seek out ways to be close to someone he claims to want gone. He doesn’t wake himself calling out their name or sit and stare out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of them.”
“I do not pine for him!” Arthur spluttered, face heating.
“Do you know that Merlin does all of those things, too? It’s obvious you two are both breaking your hearts over one another. A blind man would see it. No one sent me tonight -. I certainly didn’t need anyone to tell me you could use someone to talk to.”
Arthur took a step back, then another, leaning against the cold, smooth stone of the fireplace, closing his eyes. He should sentence Cavill to the stocks for such insolence, but what was the use? It was all truth and the only harm Cavill had done was force Arthur face it
Arthur scrubbed his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I spoke hastily.”
“You spoke as though I guessed rightly about something you’re ashamed of,” Cavill said, turning to go. “I won’t disturb you further, Sire.”
Arthur grabbed the sleeve of Cavill’s tunic before he could take two steps. “It isn’t shame.”
“Regret then,” Cavill said, not looking Arthur in the eye but not pulling his arm away, either. “I understand perfectly. He’s only a servant, a man.”
“Sit down, Cavill. I won’t have you thinking I’m some sort of arrogant prat or bigot.” Arthur let go his sleeve and went to sit back down in his chair, waiting until Cavill was seated again. “I couldn’t care less that Merlin is a servant. My father- well, that’s beside the point. I don’t regret Merlin because he’s a servant, or because he can’t give me an heir.”
Cavill didn’t look convinced. “But you do regret him?”
Arthur sighed. “I should never have allowed what happened between us, knowing I was going to lose him. And I am going to lose him, Cavill. In truth, I’ve likely lost him already.”
Cavill rested his cane against the arm of his chair again, stretching his leg out and rubbing it as he spoke. “You seem to be determined to be rid of him and dreading it at the same time. Which is it?”
“You don’t pull your punches, do you, old man?” Arthur scoffed, grudgingly impressed. He needed this, needed to talk it out with someone who wouldn’t simply bow to his opinion. “If we’re together, he risks his life. If he stays in Camelot, it’ll drive me mad. Seeing him around the citadel is... But if he leaves...”
“If he leaves, you’ll lose yourself as well as him,” Cavill finished quietly, laying a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You know that, don’t you?”
Arthur looked up, surprised at the gesture. No one touched him so intimately but Merlin and, rarely, the knights.
“I know what it’s like to be separated from the man you care for above all others,” Cavill said softly, squeezing Arthur’s shoulder once more before letting his hand fall away. “I don’t recommend it.”
Arthur shrugged. “It’s not as if we’re truly separated while he’s still in Camelot. We’re constantly crashing into one another, as if we’d rather have the pain of separating again and again than nothing at all.”
“Doing as much damage as you can before pulling away again,” Cavill said, nodding, staring into the fire. “I know what that’s like, too. It’s as if you’re punishing yourselves, and each other.”
Arthur heard the anguish in the knight’s voice, saw it etched on his face. “What kept you apart from the man you... were in love with?” he asked, feeling more connected to Cavill for his admission. Somehow, Arthur knew he’d be forgiven for asking such a personal question.
“He pushed me away. I thought it was because he didn’t truly want me, or he wasn’t brave enough to stand up to his family. But now I see that he thought he was protecting me much the way you’re protecting Merlin. He would have done better to keep me close to him rather than push me away if he wanted to protect me,” Cavill said, rubbing at his thigh and looking up with a smile. “Still, I’ve never strayed from the hope that someday we’ll work things out. I suppose that makes me a foolish old man, doesn’t it?”
“Have you never found anyone else?” Arthur asked quietly, hoping and dreading to hear that Cavill had moved on as Merlin might.
“No.” Cavill’s eyes shone brightly before he stood and fetched another log, leaning down to lay it across the dwindling fire. “I don’t have the slightest desire to look elsewhere.”
“I hope Merlin feels differently. I wouldn’t want him to be alone his entire life,” Arthur said, taking a drink to wash away the lie and the lump in his throat. It didn’t work.
“From what I hear, he doesn’t. Perhaps someday he’ll move on from you, but I sincerely doubt it. If you’re anything like myself and... well, you will only ever truly be suited for one another.”
Arthur scoffed. “We’re hardly a good match.”
“Aren’t you? After all, it must take a strong man to love a Prince, servant or no.”
“That’s a ill-disguised insult, I believe, Sir Cavill,” Arthur countered, smirking at the man’s audacity. Actually, he sounded a bit like Merlin - that much, at least, was comforting.
“Of course not!” Cavill said with mock-surprise as he took his seat again and raising his goblet in deference to Arthur. “I was merely complimenting Merlin.”
Arthur lifted his cup to meet Cavill’s, his mirth slipping away as he brought ot mind memories the strength Merlin had displayed throughout their friendship. Ealdor, the quest, Merlin at his side through every bit of intrigue and every battle.
“You’re not wrong, actually. If anyone could put up with me, it’s him. He is the strongest man I know,” he said quietly, remembering the sight of Merlin rushing headlong between Arthur and death without hesitation, then falling fearlessly over the cliff for him.
Merlin woke with a start, nearly falling from his chair at the sound of Arthur dropping a fresh log onto the fire. He pried open his eyelids and scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling Cavill’s wrinkled features and at once panicking. Had he somehow maintained the guise even in his sleep? He must’ve, though he had no idea how he’d managed it.
The light filtering in through Arthur’s windows was pale grey, and Merlin couldn’t hear the busy bustling of servants in the corridor, either. “Is it yet dawn?”
“Only just,” Arthur answered, stoking the fire. “Lay out a change of clothes for me, will you, Cavill?”
Merlin stood and stretched, not even needing to pretend the aches in his body after spending the night in Arthur’s chair. “Wouldn’t you like to sleep a bit longer?” Merlin looked over at the still-made bed, frowning. “Did you sleep at all?”
“I did a bit, despite you sawing logs all night.” Arthur grinned and stepped behind the dressing screen, flinging his breeches and tunic over the top and gesturing impatiently for Cavill to hand him a change of clothing. “There’s something I need to do before my duties begin today.”
“What could be so urgent?” Merlin passed the clothing around the screen, surprised when Arthur popped his head out again, grinning.
Arthur was never this cheerful of a morning.
“Merlin.”
It was all the explanation Arthur gave, but behind his name was everything Merlin longed to hear.
His heart thudded heavily in his chest and he turned away, ducking his head so Arthur wouldn’t see the emotion on Cavill’s face. He swallowed hard around the lump his throat, reaching for control but completely helpless to stop the overwhelming feelings of relief and affection that poured over him.
He nearly couldn’t breathe. He only wanted to reach out for Arthur, to touch him, to tell him he needn’t say another word.
But when Arthur stepped around the screen and reached for his belt, Merlin’s eyes went wide with realization.
Arthur was going to find him right now.
He knew where Arthur would surely look first - Merlin’s room in the tower.
“Won’t he still be abed?” Merlin asked as casually as he could manage, though his voice was a bit shaky. He cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t want to wake him, would you?”
Arthur fairly beamed at him. “Somehow I think I’ll be forgiven for it,” he answered, grinning.
“I’ll just fetch you some breakfast, then? For two?”
At Arthur’s nod, Merlin made a hasty, clumsy retreat. He tripped over a footstool as he crossed the chamber and then slammed the door so hard his hand stung with the force of it.
He ran full-out to the chamber he used for changing, praying to the Gods the entire way that no one would see the supposedly-crippled old knight running like a youngster. Luckily it was as early as Arthur had said and Merlin flew unseen through the corridors. He stripped Cavill off quick as lightning, yanking on his usual clothes and stomping into his boots, pausing only long enough to glance in the mirror and make sure he was fully himself again.
He skipped every other stair on the way up to the tower, gasping for breath, his thighs burning and his heart racing in anticipation. He forced himself to stop outside the tower door and take a deep breath, then open it silently so he wouldn’t wake Gaius.
But he was too late. Arthur was already there.
Gwaine stood at the bottom of the stairs to Merlin’s room, practically lewd in only his smalls with his morning erection outlined by the clinging fabric. His bare arms were spread wide, hands resting on either wall of the staircase, literally blocking the door to Merlin’s room.
“What are you doing here?” Arthur’s fists clenched at his sides, the words ground out in a harsh whisper through gritted teeth.
Merlin stood stock-still, frozen and speechless as he watched the disaster unfold.
“I stayed the nigh- oh...” Gwaine said quietly, looking down at himself and then shrugging, a huge grin on his face. “It’s not how it looks,” he offered with false-sincerity, his smirk obviously designed to make Arthur think he was lying.
Merlin couldn’t imagine what Gwaine was thinking, why he would goad Arthur into believing he and Merlin had slept together. Was he mad? He knew what Arthur was capable of!
Arthur took a determined step forward and Gwaine moved to intercept him, still barring the way into Merlin’s room.
“Could I tell him something for you?” Gwaine asked coyly, crossing his arms over his bare chest but not moving an inch. His tone was breezy, as though he wasn’t actually challenging Arthur in the slightest, though Merlin saw the telltale dare in the flex of Gwaine’s biceps. “Or shall I just send him down to you when he wakes?”
Arthur’s rage rolled off of his broad shoulders in waves, the air of the workroom thickening with tension until Merlin could scarcely draw breath. He dared not make a sound. If Gwaine saw him, he didn’t glance in Merlin’s direction or otherwise give him away.
“Well?” Gwaine persisted, a bit impatiently. “I’d like to get back to Merlin’s warm bed if you don’t mind. Do you have a message for him or no?”
Arthur took a step back and Merlin thought he was about to turn and see him standing there. It would all be over and they could just laugh about-
“You can give him this,” Arthur snapped, no longer bothering to keep quiet, and reared back.
He moved so fast that Merlin couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Arthur’s fist landed squarely in the middle of Gwaine’s face with a sickening crunch and Gwaine’s cry filled the otherwise-silent chamber. Gaius leapt up out of bed at the noise, hand on his chest in alarm, looking first to Merlin, then to Arthur and Gwaine.
“Merlin!” Gaius shouted, as if it was all his fault, and Arthur whirled, eyes wide as he saw Merlin standing dumbly in the middle of the room.
“Merlin!” Arthur gasped, his rage draining away. He looked back and forth from Merlin to Gwaine.
“Told you it wasn’t how it looked,” Gwaine groaned out, stomping his foot in pain and cupping his hands over his face. Blood seeped through his fingers and dripped to the flagstones. He swore and slapped his red-smeared palm against the stone wall, tears squeezing from his eyes. “Hell, Arthur, hit a bit harder next time!”
Merlin took a step towards Gwaine and stopped, realizing that Arthur was still between them. “I- I didn’t sleep with him,” he choked out, wincing as Arthur rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in exasperation. Merlin cleared his throat and waved a hand at Gwaine. “Obviously, I mean. I wasn’t here.”
“Where were you, then?” Gaius asked sleepily, getting to his feet and collecting a cloth from the worktable.
“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur interjected, though Merlin could hear the lie in his voice and had no doubt everyone else could, too.
“Apology accepted,” Gwaine scoffed, shoving at Arthur’s shoulder and stepping past him to sit on Gaius’ examination table. “I’m bleeding here, in case no one noticed.”
Gaius muttered and sighed, giving Merlin a pointed, disapproving glance as he held the cloth to Gwaine’s nose. “It’s a bit early for so many misunderstandings,” he complained.
“You’re absolutely right, Gaius. Outside, Merlin,” Arthur ordered, glaring at Merlin as he stalked past him to the door. “Now.”
Merlin looked to Gwaine for help, having no clue how to explain to Arthur where he’d been all night, but Gwaine was staring up at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of his nose as Gaius tried to staunch the flow of blood.
Merlin hurried over to him, taking his nose in hand and whispering a quick healing spell. The bone shifted and snapped back into place, and Merlin sent a second spell just behind the first, soothing away the worst of the pain.
“I’ll never get used to that. Go on,” Gwaine urged, shoving Merlin towards the door. “He’s waiting.”
“He’ll kill me,” Merlin groaned, looking over his shoulder at the door and then back to Gwaine. “Tell me what to say.”
“Oh no, my friend. You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out,” Gwaine laughed, touching his nose gingerly. “And let’s leave my nose out of this from now on, alright?”
Merlin sighed, wondering if Arthur really was angry enough to hit him as well. He couldn’t very well defend himself against Arthur, could he? He was strong enough magically, yes, but he would never-
Gwaine’s hand fell on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “The only reason he’s being so stubborn is that he cares about you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so worried about your safety. Remember that and don’t let him convince you otherwise, no matter what he says this time.”
Merlin nodded, though he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. All the progress he’d made as Cavill through the night had been wiped away and here he was, their relationship a tangled mess once again.
Merlin slipped out the door, shutting it behind himself. He braced himself for harsh words, every muscle coiled in anticipation.
Despite expecting Arthur’s anger, he flinched as Arthur crowded him against the wall, hands gripping his shoulders, shaking them hard.
“You didn’t sleep with him.” Arthur’s voice was barely audible, a tight, low murmur. His face was just a hands’ breadth from Merlin’s, his jaw tight.
Merlin barely shook his head. “No.”
“But he would,” Arthur accused, pressing Merlin harder against the cold wall. “He wants you.”
Merlin jerked his head in a tiny nod, closing his eyes against Arthur’s angry gaze. “I wouldn’t, though. He isn’t... you,” Merlin whispered, swallowing against the hard knot of pain in his throat. Pain for this, between he and Arthur, and pain for his bruised-nosed friend who loved him so dearly.
He wouldn’t rob Gwaine of finding a person who truly loved him, even if it meant Merlin would spend his life alone, watching as someone else made Gwaine happy.
Arthur stepped forward, his hand drifting down to rest on Merlin’s waist, his gaze dropping to focus on Merlin’s mouth.
Merlin licked his lips, breath already failing him, and fought the urge to lean in and take what he wanted. Every fibre of his being needed Arthur’s touch, his kiss. He yearned for it as desperately as he’d ever wanted anything, so absolutely that he almost couldn’t feel the pain anymore.
Arthur leaned against him, slipping his arm around Merlin’s waist and pressing so close that they touched in a dozen places. The rigid line of Arthur’s arousal pushed unabashedly against Merlin’s thigh, and Merlin squeezed his eyes closed.
“Don’t,” he breathed, turning his face away, pressing his palms against the wall to steady himself. Unable to think, he reached for magic instead, drawing energy from the very stones beneath his touch, letting it gather and swirl in his chest. He wouldn’t use magic against Arthur, but he felt stronger knowing the power was there if he needed it.
Arthur’s hand left his hip and closed on his jaw, turning his face back. “You’ve changed your mind?” he asked, though he didn’t move away.
Merlin opened his eyes and shook his head. “I’ll never change my mind. But you’re torturing me. You’re torturing both of us. Every time you do this - touch me - kiss me - it takes days for me to....”
Lowering his gaze, Arthur let his hand slide along Merlin’s cheek, down his throat, tugging at his tunic and resting over his chest . “There will be obstacles, you realize, if we’re to together. Until I am King, the laws of Camelot will not change..”
Merlin drew in a deep breath and let it shakily out, not daring to believe that Arthur was truly willing to be with him, to be together. “I understand it won’t be easy.,” he whispered, and Arthur nodded once, apparently satisfied.
“When I am crowned, it will be different, but I cannot wish for my father’s death.”
Merlin understood, truly. For all the power being a dragonlord brought, he wouldn’t have given Balinor up for any of it.
Still, the words held such promise and surety that Merlin couldn’t help but believe them. The tension drained from him as if through a sieve and he sagged against the wall. He looked into Arthur’s eyes, seeing nothing but hope and heat.
“Of course not. I understand, Arthur,” Merlin said quietly, reaching to lay a tentative hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
“Do you?” Arthur whispered, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s. “I want you to stay in Camelot, Merlin. But if you do, I’ll have your word that you won’t be stupid about when and where you use your gift. Promise me you’ll be more careful with it. No more chores or lighting fires. And what’s between us must remain secret as well.”
“You have my word,” Merlin vowed, pulling back to look into Arthur’s eyes. He felt as if his heart was swollen and crowding his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Was Arthur his, then? Is that what this meant?
Arthur’s arms encircled his waist and drew him away from the wall, his hips pressed tightly to Merlin’s, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s lips. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, and finally, finally took Merlin’s mouth in a slow, possessive kiss.
Merlin opened to him, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s back, rubbing from his strong shoulders all the way down to the round of his arse. He hummed in contentment, breathless and dizzy with the lingering kiss. Pressing his open palm against the base of Arthur’s spine, he pulled him impossibly closer, then let his hands explore, squeezing and kneading.
Arthur rubbed up and down his side, fingers slipping up beneath Merlin’s tunic to caress his skin. His touch was warm and firm, insistent but calm, the kind of calm that transferred to Merlin with every caress.
Merlin clung to that calm, willing his racing heart to slow. He pulled gently away from the kiss, tilting his head back against the wall and gasping for breath. He moved his hand between them and up around Arthur’s neck, fingers curling into Arthur’s hair and holding him close. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want Arthur to ever stop, but he had to catch his breath.
Arthur chuckled softly against Merlin’s throat, nuzzling, kissing, nipping a path along Merlin’s jaw and up to his ear. A warm tingle tripped along his skin as Arthur nibbled his earlobe, then whispered his name.
Merlin’s toes curled in his boots, his cock thickening in his breeches. “We should-“ he managed, but didn’t finish.
Footfalls echoed up the staircase from below. They froze, then flew apart, Arthur looking down the stairs as Merlin turned to press his forehead to the stone wall, grasping for control. He used the magical energy he’d gathered to ground himself, sending it in a torrential rush back into the castle but holding onto the end of the stream. It helped steady him, and by the time the servant appeared on the staircase, Merlin was breathing normally, at least.
“Prince Arthur, I’m so glad I found you!” the servant cried, obviously trying to hold back the panic in his voice. “There’s been word from the East.”
“What news?” Arthur asked quickly, urging the servant on.
“There’s been another Serkit attack. The villagers tracked it to its nest. They’ve found the entire swarm, your highness!”
Arthur’s stunned silence lasted only a moment before he straightened to his full height, throwing his shoulders back and resting his hand on his belt, though he didn’t wear his scabbard. It was as if he’d pulled on another skin, transforming into a valiant knight, a prince, a commander.
“We ride as soon as we’re assembled. Find Cavill and have him rouse my knights. Help him gather our gear and have the cook pack trail rations for the seven of us.”
Merlin stepped forward, shaking his head. “Cavill’s practically lame - he won’t withstand the journey. Take me instead.”
Arthur held up his hand to silence Merlin. “Cavill is far more capable with a sword,” Arthur told him, cutting off Merlin’s protests with a glare. He glanced back to the servant, who shifted from foot to foot, nearly vibrating with overexcited nerves. “Go on, then. Hurry, man!”
The servant bowed quickly and turned, running down the stairs. When they could no longer hear his footsteps, Arthur laid his hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “I want you where I know you’ll be safe.”
Merlin’s heart lodged in his throat. He would have to make the journey as Cavill, and as Cavill, part of his concentration must be spent on maintaining the guise. His magic would be that much weaker for the drain on it, and there was no time to find another way to make the transformation.
“I belong at your side. I could be of use against the swarm - you know I could,” Merlin argued, crossing his arms over his aching chest. “I’m coming with you.”
“I’ll chain you in the dungeon if I have to, Merlin,” Arthur threatened, though his lips quirked in a half-smile. “Wouldn’t you rather spend the time getting reacquainted with my laundry? I wonder if you’ve forgotten how to wash a floor. I’d hate to have to teach you that lesson again.”
Merlin huffed out a short laugh, remembering the dirty rag splatting against his face and the bucket poured over his head. “I’ve not forgotten.” He shook his head and tried again. “Arthur, you know I’m more useful than-“
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Arthur said sharply, cutting him off. “I’ll bring you a stinger for a trophy.”
“Please don’t,” Merlin said, scoffing despite himself. He would get his own stinger. He held power beyond any Gaius had ever known. Surely he could maintain his disguise and fight the Serkits at once.
“Obey me,” Arthur said, his voice low and commanding, his hands tightening on Merlin’s shoulders. “Think of it this way: When we return to Camelot victorious, I’ll be returning to you.”
“I like the sound of that,” Merlin whispered, pressing his lips to Arthur’s for one last, lingering kiss before Arthur dashed off, leaving Merlin to stare after him.
A moment later, Merlin opened the workroom door and rushed through the news, hurrying Gwaine into his clothes with a smack to the back of his head for his antics. “He could have killed you for making him think we shared a bed.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Gwaine laughed, pulling on his boots and looking Merlin up and down. “You look well-tousled enough, don’t you?”
“I think I convinced him last night,” Merlin said, stripping down and pulling on Cavill’s breeches and tunic, stuffing extra socks and trousers into a pack. He changed into Cavill and glanced in the bit of broken mirror hung on his wardrobe cabinet. “Arthur wants Cavill along instead of me, so be sure to tell him you left me here in the tower.”
Gwaine looked Merlin up and down, then reached over to tug on his beard. “Merlin is definitely staying behind.”
“I’ll need to practice casting something powerful while keeping the guise in place. I’ll need your help. We’ll have to contrive a reason to leave the others along the way, or somehow get out of camp at night.”
“No problem.” Gwaine clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you, my friend.”
Merlin smiled back at him, then pulled him in for a tight hug. “Don’t be,” he murmured against Gwaine’s shoulder. “Not yet.”
“He’s a fool if he doesn’t see how lucky he is to have you. Let’s go find the others,” Gwaine said, clearing his throat and turning to leave, looking back over his shoulder. “I bet a sovereign Leon’s cursing up a storm right about now. He’s a bear before dawn and he’ll not want to leave whoever’s warm bed he’s in.”
Merlin followed Gwaine out and down to the courtyard, nearly forgetting to assume Cavill’s limping gate and lower voice when Percival greeted him with a yawn.
They rode out of the citadel just as the sun crested the horizon, its brilliant rays washing over the castle behind them and the road ahead.
~ TBC
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: This chapter: PG; Overall: NC-17
Length: This chapter, @7,400K words; Overall: 83K words
A/N: Special thanks to sabriel75, prplhez and gwylliondream for beta, and to my flist for endless hand-holding and encouragement! Special thanks to archaeologist_d for nudging and encouraging me just when I needed it most!
Summary: Can Cavill sway Arthur where Merlin has failed?