Tales of The Gibbet III (part one)

[welshinnit]

Title: Tales of the Gibbet III (part one)
Word Count: 3261
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Owned by Shine and BBC with apologies to George Lucas (and Disney now); please don’t sue me, I’m only playing!
Warnings/spoilers: language
Summary: Merlin has new guests at his inn, which creates turmoil, and is embroiled in the upper politics of Larkhos Island

The previous episode of The Gibbet series can be found here: http://welshinnit.livejournal.com/2013/03/21/

1.

The Guildhouse holds dominion over most of Larkhos Island and exists for one thing only; profit. It was at the time of the last so called threat from the Indran Empire that a great gathering of all the Hellenic city states was called. I remember that the occasion was hosted by Larkhos City. To that illustrious city’s fathers it was just another business day. To the plebs, it was just another opportunity to make money.

To this lowly nature priest, it was a chance to enjoy playing one of my most mischievous and favourite games; politics…

A Drunkard's Visit to Larkhos

By Staffwielder Oakhaven

Merlin chewed at his lower lip thoughtfully. Would Arthur like a single white rose or perhaps a dozen? He looked at the collection of wilting blooms in a clay vase before him and mentally cursed the nature priest who had sold them to him. So much for keeping their pristine condition in this wilting heat. Also, they had been rather expensive (well, the money was someone else’s but that was beside the point).

“I don’t think Arthur’s really a flower guy,” said Betuna Morgana Leleges.

The master thief scrubbed a hand over his sweaty face and flicked a glance in her direction. The large woman reclined on a couch under the badly repaired stairway that led to the first floor of The Gibbet. Dressed in a dark blue chiton and manicured to perfection, she oozed coolness. How did she do that in this gods’ forsaken heat?

“Yeah,” he said finally, dejected. “Operation Wooing Arthur is not off to a good start, is it?”

The forger chuckled and gracefully got to her feet to go behind the bar. “We have company.”

At that moment, six fully armoured and armed warriors stormed into the inn and went up to Betuna, who was casually pouring six wines into cups. Really, how did she do that? They took their helmets off and the master forger nodded at one of them. “My lord,” she said.

Merlin had quite enough of being ignored and joined her behind the counter. He saw the leader’s face and gulped. An elf (the only one in the group) stood before him with slightly pointed ears, cheek bones as sharp as his own and eyes the colour of beryls. The elven queendom on Larkhos Island had an uneasy truce with The Guildhouse and its territories (well, they ignored each other) and Merlin had never seen one before. A small tattoo of an upright sword on his left cheek (just under the eye) marked him out to be of the royal family of the city state of Spartra way to the north over the sea. Not of Larkhos then. The overseer of Dishwater District was still not impressed.

“You’re an elf!” Merlin liked to state the obvious. “I want no trouble in my place.”

The noble ignored him. “What’s this cup of piss before me?”

“This particular piss is called Spartran Dawn,” Betuna replied coolly, but then grinned when Merlin gave a slight moan; she did have to use the most expensive booze he had. He’d have to steal some more.

The elf barked a laugh and slapped a fellow warrior on the shoulder. “You owe me a certain favour later, Prion; this place may look like a shit hole from the outside,” Merlin had to agree with that statement, “but it’s big enough for the men and they serve excellent wine here.”

Prion smiled and winked at the same time. Merlin cleared his throat to get attention; he definitely hated being ignored. The noble finally stared at him with those green orbs and brushed a stray strand of his long black hair from his face. The master thief was pleased that his cock behaved itself from the scrutiny of the complete hotness before him; where was Arthur when Merlin displayed such self-control? He thanked the gods of trickery and/or luck (not for the first time) for their dark humour.

“Innkeeper, know that I am called Cedones and the leader of my men and we are here for the great ekklesia called by Athenos; that city seems to be worried about the scimitar rattling from the Indran Empire and my father has sent me to represent him, and be bored witless in your soft city. Know also, good innkeeper, that we are well disciplined and will not ask for much; water from now on and meat based stew. Besides my officers, another thirteen men you will find rooms for and, on leaving, you will be well compensated. Is that agreeable innkeeper…?”

“Merlin and yes, it is. Have to warn you though, the beds are not that comfortable,” Betuna rolled her eyes but he ignored her, “but The Gibbet has its own well and not sweeter water you will find in Dillarel District, erm, Prince Cedones.”

The young noble smiled and shook his head slightly. “Just Cedones, Merlin. The accommodation will be enough for our tastes. ’A soft bed makes a soft man’, so the saying goes”. Merlin was about to say a lewd joke on the matter but thought better of it. “Oh, and my mother is elven though my father is not. Now, perhaps your assistant could show us to our rooms? I would ask you to do so, but Prion here may get jealous of the attention I’m giving you.”

The young warrior called Prion laughed and kissed the prince on the cheek. The noble kissed him back on the lips and Merlin swore he could cut the sexual tension with one of his enchanted daggers. He cleared his throat a second time and Cedones smiled into the kiss before he broke the connection to his lover. “Before you ask; we could stay for a day, a week or even several months. It all depends on the amount of chattering from old men I have to endure.”

Great, though profitable.

Before he could get Betuna to show the warriors upstairs, the front doors opened a second time. Gawain stood with a forlorn look on his face and a large sack at his feet. “Merlin, your mother has kicked me out. She said I was giving too many freebies to the good looking clients and I’m banned from most of the taverns and…” the half-naked man (well, it was a hot day) smiled. “Well, hello boys. Let me introduce myself; Gawain, Celtae bard and most definitely at your service.” The handsome bard wantonly raked his eyes over Cedones’ muscular form and licked his lips. Prion bristled.

Laughing, and keeping a firm grip on his lover’s shoulder, the prince turned his head towards Merlin. “I’m going to enjoy staying here, methinks.”

Merlin smiled weakly in response. “Gawain, you can stay in the cellar and help out with cooking and serving for your board and lodge.” The bard seemed pleased with that and while he hauled his sack over the counter he made a play of slowly lifting it to land at Merlin’s feet (and also making sure that his well-defined physique was on display). Merlin face-palmed himself and forced down the groan that threatened to escape. Prion was about to say something, but the stern look on Cedones’ face and the slight shake of his head quietened the warrior; disciplined indeed.

Gawain vaulted the bar, picked up his bag and made for the kitchen. Once again the front doors opened (his inn was really like Dillarel Market on a busy day, which was all the time) and there stood Arthur dressed in his half-plate and chain armour and with the great Moonblade scabbarded at his back. He looked hot and bothered and sweaty and hot and lickable and very hot. Unfortunately Merlin’s dreamy smile (well, more lust than dreamy) dropped when he noticed the frown on His Hotness’ face.

“Merlin, thanks for the gifts and all, but I really don’t like goat head stew.”

“But I cooked it myself!” Merlin protested.

“Exactly.”

Everything went downhill from there.

“Hello lover,” said Cedones to Arthur.

His Hotness’ jaw dropped. “Cedones?”

“Lover?” whispered Merlin, his whole life suddenly shattered.

Then Arthur noticed Betty, who was trying to hide her bulk behind two strapping officers of Spartra’s finest. “Morgana, is that you and why aren’t you at school? And you’ve put on a lot of weight in the last three days?”

“Athena’s tits,” swore Betty. She never swore. The master forger smiled weakly. “Hello Arthur.”

The front doors opened again and Merlin wondered if the weight of so many people at one time could actually damage the infrastructure of the decrepit Gibbet. His mother, fetching in several layers of green silk and dripping in gold (not a good sign) stormed in, sat at a clean table near the stairs, produced a flagon of excellent wine and waited. Betty immediately got a silver goblet and placed it before the brothel keeper. Still, the matriarch did not smile (definitely not a good sign).

“Merlin Emrys”, now Merlin knew he was in trouble, “how dare you send back your birthday present.” She turned to the finest warriors in the Hellenic world and smiled. “By the way, the cock and cunt at my place are very reasonably priced and we deal with most tastes, though I draw the line at animals, children and the dead. Also, I guarantee my boys and girls are pox free; ask anyone in Larkhos City if you don’t believe me.”

“Birthday?” said Arthur, his confused face very kissable, but then Merlin remembered he was pissed off with Blondie.

Gawain came back out from the kitchen and somehow had found the smallest white kilt to wear. It did not hide his ‘interest’ in Cedones one bit. “Yeah, good party too, I think.”

The front doors (oh for the love of…) opened once more and in walked Will. The master thief of Cerone immediately spotted Merlin behind the counter and put on his most leering smile. “Hey Merls, just want to say that I didn’t mean anything about the challenge I gave you a few days ago,” liar, “and I want to make up. Remember the good times we had.” The overseer of a small corn producing and not really import town on Larkhos Island, well not that important, well, very important really, smiled in Arthur’s direction. “The things we used to get up to, in and out of bed…”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The whole room turned towards Merlin and stared at him (with faces ranging from amused to shock to boredom - that was Gawain, he was used to Merlin and his ‘moments’), but he didn’t care. Now he was angry. However, before he could speak little Leon came in. The boy pickpocket took one look around the room and wisely retraced his steps.

“Right.” Merlin took in a deep breath. “ Mum, sending Percy up naked, glistening with perfumed oil and wearing a cock ring is not a birthday present.” Hunith shrugged her shoulders and immediately started to think up a new plan to get her son’s balls drained, for his own good of course. Merlin had not noticed for he had turned to Will. “You, you fucking conniving, boyfriend relationship breaking, fucking slut…” Merlin had once been a slut, but that was not the main point, “can fucking fuck off now. You’re banned from The Gibbet.” Will snarled and then spat in Merlin’s direction, a challenge from one thief to another. The spittle should have landed in Merlin’s face to make it a real challenge, but it fell short and landed on Prion’s sandal. The rather tall and muscular Spartran narrowed his eyes. That was Will’s cue to copy Leon and make a hasty retreat. “Arthur, I sent an invitation to a special celebration but you said you were too busy.” Arthur looked down at his feet, ashamed. So he definitely had received the invitation. Merlin saw red. “LEON!” he shouted at the boy still outside the inn. “Go round through the stables and join Gawain in the kitchen to help out.” The overseer of Dishwater waited a few moments. “Five copper plates.”

“Gotcha ‘boss’”, shouted back the little tyke. Gawain took the hint and, with one last lustful glance at Cedones, went to join the pickpocket.

Merlin forced himself to smile. “Betty or Morgana or whatever your name is, can you show our guests their rooms now?”

Betty meekly took a smiling Cedones and his troop upstairs.

Finally, Merlin came from behind the counter and faced Arthur, who still stared at his boots. “Lover?” was all he said, softly and with a slight tremor to his voice.

The handsome blond looked up and chewed at his gorgeous, kissable lower lip for a few moments. “Four years ago, when I was only sixteen, father sent me to Spartra for sword training…they are the best in the world and…well…I fell in love with the prince and he taught me…well…he showed me a good…I mean…”

Merlin put him out of his misery, in a way. “When we made love six months, two weeks and four days ago you said you were a virgin_”

“_I didn’t actually use that word_”

“You fucking implied it!” Throughout Merlin had spoken softly but now his sorrow threatened to come through as his voice quavered. Arthur made to step forward, as if to embrace him with his hot muscular arms and, although Merlin desperately dreamed of such a thing, stepped back out of reach. Said hot muscular arms were lowered once more.

“He never, erm, what I mean to say is that I was the one to, erm, use him as a woman. He preferred that. Cedones was everything to me; very attractive, sophisticated, gentle, fun to be with…” Arthur seemed to realise what he had been saying and his fond memory smile disappeared.

Merlin closed his eyes, but the image of the two making love together forced him to open them again. “Do…” Merlin’s voice broke, so he coughed and tried again. “Do you still love him?”

Arthur’s smile returned, obviously as he remembered his time with the hot warrior prince.

“Get out,” was Merlin’s reply, surprisingly calm. “You’re banned.”

“But Merlin, I’ve already said I’ve had sex with men and women, my father insisted on it. But Cedones, ah Cedones, he was special, he…”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING INN YOU FUCKING CUNT.” Merlin then brushed a hand over his faced and bravely stared into the hot blond’s red one (red from anger not from his usual cute embarrassment). “I don’t want to see you again, I mean it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Er, I’ll go then.”

“What, you want a fucking map to get out of here or what?”

Stiffly, Arthur turned on his heel and marched out of the inn. Silent tears started to glide down Merlin’s sharp cheeks.

“So nobody cares what day I’ve had to be endure then,” huffed Mistress Hunith, still sat by the stairs and sipping at her own wine (she claimed her son’s establishment only served goat’s pissed, which was usually true).

“Okay mum,” Merlin whispered as he sat opposite her, “what kind of day have you had?”

“Went to the theatre to see a new play, a comedy, if you can call it that. All about an incompetent magistrate; Uther was there with a fixed smile on his face. Have never seen him smile, except when he’s dishing out punishment in his courts, but that’s different.”

“I bet that didn’t go down well.” Merlin signed. Were Arthur and he finished then? He produced another sigh, but his mother didn’t seem to notice.

“And Uther must have had agitators in the crowd, which was in an ugly mood anyway. You would have been if you had to sit through that drivel.”

“This isn’t going to end well.”

“Of course, I threw the first stone_”

“_’lucky’_”

“You know, the one I’ve named Lucky. Hit him right in the crotch, so it did.”

“Mum!”

“Well, no incompetent playwright is going to waste my day and take my well-earned cash. It’s an affront to Dionysos. I’m not totally callus; gave money for his funeral I did, not that he deserved it.”

Merlin produced another sigh and put his head in his hands. “This city goes through playwrights like…like…a totally fit and handsome master thief through his one true love.”

Sadly, for him, said master thief did not see his mother’s eyes narrow and then clip him round the ear.

“Ow! What was that for, I’m in agony here with a broken heart?”

Again the narrowed eyes and for safe measure Merlin stood and stepped back a pace.

“I said take on casual lovers not give up the one that mattered. Why did Heres bless me with such a useless son?” Merlin knew that was a rhetorical question and dared not answer. “You are to make up with that cute little boy. “ Cute, yes, but little? “He is Uther’s son after all; very useful.”

Merlin’s voice was plaintive in a doomed lover sort of way. His mother would call it whining. “But how?”

Hunith rolled her eyes and the master thief took another step back. “Really? You have to ask? Drug him so that he can’t run away and give him the best blow job ever. Works for me!”

The innkeeper closed his mouth. He really shouldn’t ask his mother for advice in matters of the heart. “Hang on a minute, what do you mean it works for you?” Too late, Merlin realised he had asked her a question on matters of the heart.

Mistress Hunith opened her mouth to speak at length on her seductive techniques but was interrupted by Cedones and Prion descending the stairs noisily (there was no other way with the state the building was in). “The rooms will do nicely, Merlin, and you have my thanks. Also, you can come with me to the Guildhouse tomorrow morning for the opening ceremony. If I’m going to be bored witless I might as well have someone else to talk to beside Prion here.”

The plaintive voice was back. “But…erm…guild leaders and me don’t really mix and I have The Gibbet to run and…” The three opposite him burst into laughter. “Fine, I’ll go. Perhaps Arthur will be there. His father is head of the textile traders after all.”

An eyebrow on the face of a very handsome half-elf rose. “Interesting. Bring food and water, and that little street urchin who calls you his boss. I’m sure there’s a tale or two he could tell to while away the boring hours.” Merlin stifled a groan as Cedones glanced at Prion. “Master Gawain can look after your ‘inn’.” He then turned to the thief’s mother, bowed and kissed her hand. “Perhaps the Lady Hunith could be persuaded to join us for…entertaining conversation.”

Hunith blushed (she could produce it on command) and tilted her head in acquiescence. “Oh, I’ll bring Lucky.”

The groan this time definitely escaped Merlin’s lips and he face palmed.

His mother laughed.