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Entry tags:
Merlin - Virtuous
Title: Virtuous
Genre: Gen, hint of more if you squint that way.
Rating: R
Length: ~ 5,800 words
Warnings: Non-con (I would say light non-con, but there’s really no such thing).
Synopsis: When a nobleman has his sights set on an evening’s entertainment involving an unwilling Gwen, Merlin offers himself in her stead.
Author’s Notes: I’m a Yank. My Beta caught as much as she could, but any and all remaining mistakes are all mine.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myth, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing it and making no profit.
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“I’ll do it,” Merlin announced, surprising himself as well as Lord Halwaine.
“Merlin,” Gwen protested. Her eyes were wide with fear, though he could not tell if it was fear for herself or for him at this time. His own eyes darted between her panicked face and the way her hand was turning a pinkish shade of red from the crushing grip the good Lord had on her wrist.
The large git of nobility, or so he fashioned himself, turned his gaze to Merlin, looking him up and down as if to size him up, though he did not release Gwen. “Who says I want you?” he demanded.
Merlin was surprised Gwen was not getting drunk off the fumes emanating from the man given the wine upon him was strong enough to nearly taste at this distance. Instead of commenting on such, he forced himself to concentrate on convincing the man that he was a better catch than she. Laughable, yes, but he was determined to try.
He really hoped Gwen would forgive him for what he was about to do. “Well,” he began, hoping his stalling came across as coyness instead. Where were the blasted guards when you needed them? “She’s such a fragile little thing, isn’t she? All maidly and girly. So easily damaged or broken. Not to mention the fear of illegitimate rug rats to care for or payoff at a later date in hopes they never threaten your true children’s claims.”
“Go on,” Halwaine said, even as Gwen mouthed, “What are you doing?”
He gathered up his courage and continued. “Now me, on the other hand, I’m, well, a man. I haul armour and weaponry day in and day out.” Yes, he was ignoring the fact that Gwen was the blacksmith’s daughter and could probably take him with one hand tied around her back. “I may look frail, but believe you me, I am far from it.” He tried to straighten his slouch as much as possible and even push out his chest a bit. He may have also, possibly, willed the other man to believe his words with every ounce of his being that did not include glowing golden eyes. “And definitely none of those pesky offspring to worry about, unless there is something you know that I, a lowly court servant, do not.”
He forced himself to look away from his friend, which was just as well as she was now mouthing, “Arthur is going to kill you,” and matched the other man’s gaze. He could see him wavering and did the one thing that always seemed to get him his way: he lowered his head ever so slightly and looked up through his lashes. His mouth had grown dry as he had already run out of things to say, so he licked his lips to try to bide him time to think up something else. The effect was immediate, yet not in the way he had thought it would be.
Gwen’s gasp signalled her release as much as the swoosh of her skirts as she was pushed past him. “Be gone with you,” Halwaine ordered, taking Merlin into his less than tender embrace. “I have found my entertainment for the night.”
“Merlin,” she protested.
“Go tend to your Lady,” he told her, trying to infuse his tone with confidence. He could tell she saw right through it. He hoped she picked up on his hint as he added, “She should be entertaining my Master at this time. Alternately, my Master may be entertaining her, I am not quite sure of their plans for this evening.”
Her eyes widened again, this time in understanding and, really, he hoped he would never have to refer to Arthur as such ever again. “Very well,” she said, voice shaking only slightly. A quick bow later, and she was gone, the echo of her hurried footsteps the only sign she had been there in the first place.
Merlin found himself rather dragged along the hallway and pondered once again as to the location of Camelot’s finest. He also wondered why no one thought to question why the personal servants to the Prince and the King’s ward had disappeared without a word. Just as those thoughts began to turn to how he could use this knowledge to his advantage, Halwaine drew his attention once more. “And just who is your Master, boy?”
He thought fast and used the knowledge that he truly was a terrible liar to his advantage. “A Royal Prat,” he answered without shame. “Nothing at all like you, my Lord.” He tried to smile. When that did not seem like that worked, he licked his lips again.
Halwaine’s quick pace faltered for a moment and it was clear he had lost his train of thought. He screwed up his face, not that it was much to look at in the first place, and tried to right his thoughts. Merlin gave him time; it was obviously quite the task, though it was unclear if the difficulty was from drink or lineage. Regardless the cause, his steps had noticeably slowed and slow was a good thing.
“Your Master, he serves the King?” the man finally asked, which was probably as close to on track as he was going to get.
Merlin nodded, it was not untrue. “All who abide in Camelot serve the King, do they not?” he hedged. And if his less than direct answer happened to serve as an added reminder that they were in Uther’s court and must abide by his rules, all the better. Merlin knew for a fact that what Halwaine had planned was not status quo as far as Uther was concerned.
Now it was the drunken man’s turn to nod as he stopped fully in his tracks. “Just between you an’ me,” he whispered, stagnant wine warm against the nape of Merlin’s neck as he bent low to confide his secret. “The King, he’s rather a, what’s that word you used?”
“Prat,” Merline helpfully supplied.
“Yes, that,” Halwaine agreed. “I don’t think he much likes the way I run my little corner of his great kingdom. Always making laws and shorting supplies and hefting taxes. Having... leisure... with his servantry while I am here? My little way of taking a bit more of what should be mine.”
Merlin silently cursed. The idiot had remembered his original purpose.
“None of you ever complain,” the supposed Lord continued. He smiled, all teeth, which happened to show Merlin that yes, the cook had found the rosemary earlier after all. “Proves to me how much you all want it. Must find your good King and his high and mighty righteousness lacking, eh?”
Or they were all afraid to speak up on the off chance Uther was not truly so righteous and punished them for either participating or complaining were Merlin’s thoughts, but he wisely kept that to himself.
Halwaine crowded him against the stone wall. Merlin lost his balance briefly and grabbed on to whatever he could to catch himself. Unfortunately, that happened to be Halwaine.
“See?” the larger man asked. He pressed himself close, Lordly accoutrements pressing uncomfortably against places Merlin would rather not have pressed. “Just look at you... practically begging for it. Bet you I can make you beg by the time the night is over...”
Guards. Any time, really. He knew the castle was big, just like he knew Arthur and Morgana were on the far side from where he was now. He highly doubted Gwen would dawdle, but he also highly doubted she had even found them yet. He considered the use of his magic, but figured that would be precisely when the guards would finally appear. Accusations of sorcery and head on the chopping block later, and Halwaine would most likely still be free to terrorize the maids and like as, well, Merlin sometimes panicked and spells just did not work right when that happened.
No, as much as he disliked it, he needed to wait. Either for the cavalry to arrive, or until he was safely ensconced in Halwaine’s private rooms with no random witnesses.
Luckily, the man was drunk enough that he no longer appeared certain of his location, nor the location of his rooms. He was paused, tongue poked out in thought as his head wavered between the hallway to the left and the hallway to the right.
“This way, my Lord,” Merlin suggested. He pointed back where they had just come from and put on his most earnest expression.
Halwaine narrowed his thick eyebrows. “Are you daft?” he asked.
“I have been told that before, yes,” Merlin nodded.
It earned him a chuckle and what was surely intended to be a friendly slap upside the head, or at least Merlin hoped so. He blinked away the sting and tried to hide a wince as his escort for the evening pushed himself off the wall and tugged him along in the unfortunately correct direction.
All too soon they stood in front of a door hung with a banner depicting Halwaine’s family crest. It took three tries, but the drunken man finally managed to fumble the lock open and tripped them both inside. Merlin spared a final glance to the stone hallway, not exactly surprised to find it still deserted. The heavy oak slammed shut with a resounding thud, the lock handled with far more surety this time as it slid into place.
Halwaine once again pressed up against Merlin, who openly attempted to squirm away this time. “What, now you’re shy?” he asked with a laugh. He shifted his weight in tandem, not giving Merlin any leeway. Worse yet, it reiterated the reason they were where they were, should there have been any doubt.
“Just wanting to make sure we are truly alone,” the sorcerer answered truthfully. He stood on the tips of his toes, trying to see over the larger man’s broad shoulder. The main room looked to be empty, but he could not quite see the alcove or servants’ area from this angle.
“It’s just us,” Halwaine assured him. “My people know my preferences and will not return until morning.” He stepped back and gestured widely, half-propped on the wall to hold himself upright. “Take a look for yourself,” he offered.
“I believe I shall,” Merlin replied with a tip of his head. He wandered the room slowly, taking note of where everything from weaponry to the ridiculously long cloaks lay should he happen to need them.
Everything was, as promised, empty save the two of them. He circled slowly back towards the door, Halwaine at his heels. “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” he asked. “You made your deal for the maid, though I would still fancy a turn at her as well.”
Merlin knew his eyes were glowing as he unlocked the door, sans key. He clapped his hands together to cover the sound of the bolt sliding home, turning to face his new opponent head on. “Let’s get started, shall we?” he asked with forced mirth.
Halwaine blinked a few times and cocked his head to the side. “Anyone ever tell you the light reflects in those eyes of yours in the most peculiar way?”
“No?” Merlin tried, face schooled in a look of innocence.
“No matter,” Halwaine said, taking a step closer.
Merlin attempted to sidestep him, and almost succeeded. Halwaine made a swipe at his arm, overbalanced, and ended up knocking him towards the large bed that dominated the room. Merlin caught himself on one of the poles supporting the canopy, turning slightly to keep track of just where the good Lord had disappeared.
Unfortunately, he had stumbled closer, pushing Merlin until he ended up in a half-sitting/half-sprawling position at the foot of the bed. “Eager, I like that,” the large man guffawed as he leaned even closer.
Merlin rolled to the side to avoid him and quickly stood in an attempt to distance himself as much as possible. He raised his hands in a slightly defensive position before him as he backed towards the door. “You’d hate for this to be over too quickly,” he tried.
Halwaine had righted himself with the help of the carved wood and took a tottering step towards where Merlin stood. The glare he gave showed his frustration was turning to fury. He reached for his belt and the slide of leather against metal echoed through the room. “Now,” he said, not setting it aside but rather coiling it in his hand. “Your behaviour determines your enjoyment of this little experience, understand? Behave and I’ll make it worth your while. Do not, and I will make worth mine.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow at the man’s lack of subtlety. “Trust me when I say I understand what you need perfectly,” he said, voice as ice.
“Good,” the Lord nodded. He grabbed at Merlin’s habitual scarf and removed it with a single tug. “Now get undressed so we don’t have to waste time with such trivialities.” He turned on his heel and began to walk towards the bed as he pulled at the ties to his trousers.
One whisper from Merlin had the rug flip to the side, becoming tangled around the Lord’s boots and causing him to lunge to the side in an attempt to keep his balance. Another whisper sent the chair he reached to brace himself on sliding just out of reach and he tumbled to the floor. “Do watch your step, sir,” Merlin cheerfully warned. He offered a hand out as if to help him to his feet, but received another glower in return. The emotion portrayed was definitely fury this time.
“How?” Halwaine demanded. He waved off the help and clambered upright on his own.
“Well, you have had much to drink, sir,” Merlin offered. With a smile that did nothing to hide his amusement, he added, “Are you sure you are up for this?”
Halwaine blustered and blurted and waved his hands and dropped the belt and Merlin was not quite sure exactly what he said or meant other than that he had taken the comment as the personal affront that it was intended to be. His grin was wiped off his face, however, when a meaty fist collided with his mouth.
“What was that for?” he demanded after he caught himself on the same chair that had avoided his opponent. He swiped the back of his hand across his lip, not surprised when it came away with blood. The jewelled ring that marked the other man’s station had sliced the flesh clean through. His entire jaw throbbed and he had to blink to rid the sting in his eyes from the pain.
“You do not laugh at your betters, boy,” Halwaine growled. He fisted his hand in the fabric of Merlin’s tunic and dragged him closer.
“All I did was verify you were still desiring to continue,” Merlin tried which, okay, was a lie, but he really rather hoped the man was too drunk to see through it. At least he did not comment on the “betters” comment, which he personally felt showed great resolve on his part.
The other hand lifted to cup his chin, thumb pressed painfully against his split lip and he could feel the blood ooze from it freely. “There are a great many things I desire,” Halwaine told him, lips a mere wine-stenched breath away from his own. “And I shall have them all.”
Merlin opened his mouth to protest, only to find it plundered by one of the most vile and disgusting things he ever had the displeasure of tasting and that included rat. He tried to wrench his head away, but found the man’s grip held sound. He pulled back as much as he could and willed the strip of leather on the floor to wrap around Halwaine’s ankle and pull.
It had the desired effect of causing the other man to trip, but had the undesired additive of taking himself with him as the fist had never released itself from his tunic. He struggled to get away, but Halwaine’s far greater weight pinned him in place. The candlestick from the table collided with his opposition’s skull with a whispered word, but it was not enough – the man was either too drunk or too thick-skulled to notice. “What are you?” Halwaine demanded.
Merlin felt his own skull ring upon the stone floor and decided that this really was not going to plan. There was a growing tightness around his throat that he belatedly realized was his own tunic twisting in the Lord’s grasp. He was shook again, and added another bruise to his collection, his focus good and truly gone at this point, unable to even will the brass holder closer to use as a weapon once more. Of course, it might have helped if he could tell which of the three that blurred before him was the correct one to grab.
Just as he decided to toss it all in and attempt to shout for anyone and everyone who may hear him and make a full fool of himself, the door burst open, a furious Arthur framed by the dark wood.
Halwaine’s head jerked towards the intrusion and Merlin used the distraction to as much advantage as he could. He aimed for the middle of the three candlesticks and felt his hand wrap around it. He then used his makeshift weapon to beat at any and all parts he could reach of the man who really just needed to get off him already.
As if on command, the weight lifted and he found he was able to breathe far more easily than before. With the increased breath came a clarity of vision, and he found Arthur poised above him, glower firmly in place as his attention flitted between Merlin and Halwaine who now lay gasping to his left. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Arthur demanded, gaze finally settled upon his erstwhile manservant.
Merlin had a moment of panic, not certain if he had used his magic to lift the bastard off of himself before remembering he could barely move a piece of brass let alone that arse of a man, which meant Arthur himself had done it. His eyes darted to that piece of brass to find it spattered with a bit of blood that he was fairly certain was not his own. He put two and two together and silently cursed: The Crown Prince had just walked in on a lowly servant beating an unarmed nobleman.
He opened his mouth to speak and found no such power. He forced himself to cough to clear the bile from his throat and finally managed to make a sound. “I was defending myself!” he insisted, just as Halwaine seemed to find a voice of his own and accused, “He attacked me, sire! With no provocation!”
Merlin blinked, not having calculated the man’s to think on the fly into his little scenario and tried to think of a way to convince Arthur that he was the victim not the criminal in this instance.
It was apparently unnecessary as Arthur turned to the man who supposedly swore fealty to the crown and therefore the Prince who wore it and snarled, “You? Shut up.” Turning to Merlin, in the same growl he demanded, “You? Speak.”
Merlin dropped the candlestick he still held as he figured it did not exactly help his case, and attempted to push himself into a somewhat upright position. His body protested in new and interestingly painful ways, so he settled on a half-sprawl sort of thing. Oddly enough, Arthur gave him time to steady himself, his eyes going somewhat softer around the edges as his glare lessened.
“Lord Halwaine brought me here for reasons best known to him,” Merlin began, cursing the way his voice was little more than a whisper. He coughed once more and, louder now, added, “He was apparently displeased with my services.” After a pause, he belatedly added, “Sire.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows, clearly finding the explanation lacking. Before he could voice as much, Halwaine cut in. “He’s a sorcerer, sire!” he insisted. “He bewitched me and forced his way into my rooms. He attacked me with his magic!”
Merlin widened his eyes in disbelief. So, yes, the sorcerer and attacking with magic part were true, but forced his way into the rooms? The idea was laughable. “And what of Gwen? Did she bewitch you as well when you grabbed her and tried to drag her here against her will?” he challenged. “Three separate kitchen maids alerted me to your efforts before I found you manhandling her back to your rooms.”
Arthur did not even deign to turn around as he asked, “Is that true, Gwen?”
Merlin tried to focus his still cloudy vision enough to make out his friend now standing in the doorway, a blue and black shape that could only be Morgana at her side. “Lord Halwaine was most forcible in his intentions, sire,” she confirmed. “Merlin arranged to be taken in my stead to allow time to alert you.”
“Really?” Arthur confirmed. It was only a single word, but the way he drew it out spoke volumes.
She stepped fully into the room and must have been able to see her saviour for the first time. She gasped and hurried her last few steps before she dropped to the floor. “Oh, Merlin!” she cried. “What did he do to you?”
“I am fine,” he insisted. He tried to shrug away from her touch and, ow, it was quite the painful task. “Okay, so maybe not fine,” he amended.
Her hands ran through his hair and he could not fathom what she thought she would find there until his head hollered in protest and her fingers came away with blood. “Not fine at all,” she confirmed.
He grabbed her forearm with gentle fingers and lightly traced the still blossoming bruising along her wrist. “Gwen?” he asked.
“Far better off than you, I’m afraid,” she said wryly. She pulled out of his grasp and helped him to sit fully upright.
“You will both be seen by Gaius,” Morgana announced. She strode fully into the room now and stood at Arthur’s side.
“They were both working together!” Halwaine tried. He rolled from his side to his back, but had yet to attempt to sit up on his own “She lured me and then he tricked me with his magic!” There was a frantic look to his eye as he looked around the room. “I believe they intended to rob me, and he beat me when I tried to stop him!”
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “Do shut up,” he ordered. He glanced down at the belt on the floor and raised his eyebrows at the man’s untied trousers. “Also, do cover up, there are ladies present.”
Halwaine hurriedly hiked up his trousers and pulled his tunic down as much as possible. Given that he was still clearly drunk, this proved to be quite the feat. Unfortunately, he did not follow Arthur’s first order and began to prattle on. “I am a Lord of your father’s court!” he insisted with what he must have thought passed for authority. “Just whose word are you going to take? More importantly, whose word will your father accept? That of nobility who swears himself to your King, or that of lowly servants caught with a weapon in the act? We both know his thoughts on sorcery, they will be put to death for this!”
Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Arthur with a single look. “Let me present this to you from my point of view,” the Prince offered, head tilted slightly to the side. “I was having a refreshing cup of tea with dear Morgana when her serving maid rushed in to advise us that my idiot manservant had just traded his virtue for her own. We obligingly come here to find you, a man easily nearly thrice his size, apparently assaulting him whilst presently in quite an unacceptable state of undress.”
“Your manservant?” Halwaine asked, face paling. His hands once again tugged his tunic down sharply.
Arthur ignored the interruption. “Whose word should we trust? That of the personal servant to the Prince of Camelot and the serving maid of the King’s ward, or that of a man known for his lack of respect and appetites of the flesh?”
“I would swear upon Gwen’s word,” Morgana said without hesitation, crossing her arms before her.
“And I, unfortunately, would swear upon Merlin’s,” Arthur admitted. With a shake of his head he added, “He can’t lie to save his life, really.”
Morgana nodded in agreement and added, “And claiming witchcraft now, after these accusations were levied against you does seem to be quite grasping at straws to save yourself.”
“You can’t be serious!” Halwaine protested. He moved as if to push himself up from the floor, but his balance had not yet returned.
“Yes, I quite am,” Arthur assured him. “You may also note that the laws of Camelot treat false accusations of sorcery with nearly the same severity as witchcraft itself.” Then, with a tone infused with boredom in the way only royalty ever could, he snapped his fingers and added, “Guards?”
Merlin watched as the great guards of Camelot finally made their appearance. His guess was they had been waiting in the hallway since Arthur and Morgana’s arrival, but it could have also been that they were finally back from their privy break or wherever they had disappeared to.
Halwaine lunged towards Arthur, who stepped to the side with the same uninterested look to his face. “Add attempted assault of the Prince to his charges,” he noted, the very corner of his mouth curled in pleasure as he turned towards Merlin.
The guards hauled Halwaine upright, protesting the entire way even as he grappled with his sagging garments, at one point insisting that the Prince himself must have been bewitched, which was not taken lightly at all by his handlers. “Cell or dungeon, sire?” one of the men asked. Merlin thought his name was Thomas, but he was not quite certain. He vaguely remembered him as the one who let him sneak in after the gates were to be closed one night.
“Cell,” Arthur replied. “He can stay there until the morning when my father sorts this out.”
The guard nodded and gestured to the others who dragged the possibly soon to be former Lord into the hallway with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He paused as he turned to follow, what looked to be a pitying glance spared in Merlin and Gwen’s direction. “Shall I send for the physician, sire?”
“Please do,” Morgana told him. With a final nod, he disappeared after his men.
“I don’t need a physician,” Merlin protested. It was ridiculous; he was perfectly fine. Well, maybe not perfectly, but he far from needed Gaius’ overzealous ministrations.
Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. The sudden change of position made his head swim, that was all, and he really did not need the Royal Prat’s steadying hand.
“Yes, you do,” Arthur said in a tone that brokered no argument. Not that said tone usually stopped Merlin. What did stop him was the gentle way the Prince lowered him into one of the chairs with the admonishment, “Sit down before you fall down.”
“I was sitting just fine on the floor,” Merlin sulked, though he had to admit that the soft cushions on the wood felt quite nice on his back as he slouched.
“You were laying in your own blood!” Arthur replied.
“I was...” Merlin started to answer. Arthur stepped to the side to show more than a smattering of reddish brown upon the stones were he had been. “Huh, that explains the ache in the head...” He knew Gwen had found blood but really had not thought it was anywhere near that amount.
Arthur mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “You are an ache in the head,” as he paced before him.
“Some of that may be Lord Halwaine’s,” Merlin offered as he eyed the bloody candlestick.
“Not nearly enough,” Morgana sighed. She must have realized her response was less than lady-like as she added, “I will not apologize for my words. The man is a blight upon this kingdom.”
“I know,” Arthur agreed. He paused in his pacing long enough to help Gwen to rise before he continued. “He is also a Lord who has sworn fealty to my father and offers his required share of crops and workers upon demand.” He turned on his heel and addressed Merlin, “Not that any of that excuses his behaviour and, by God, did he attempt to garrote you with your own tunic?”
Merlin reached for his throat and found his hands slapped away to be replaced by tender fingers along the raw skin. “Possibly?” he admitted, voice harsh to his own ears. He tried coughing to clear his throat, but all that did was remind him that the much larger Lord had been pressed against his chest for far too long. “Ow.”
“Here, try this,” Gwen offered. She poured water from the carafe on the table into one of the small wooden cups and held it towards him.
“Thank you,” he replied, taking the cup with hands that only shook a little, thankful no one made mention of that little observation or he’d be in Gaius’ care even longer. He took a wonderfully cool sip and felt it dribble down his throat. “Might help get that vile taste out of my mouth as well,” he commented, taking another, deeper draught.
He looked up from his cup to find not understanding, but fury. Arthur’s eyes darted between the belt still coiled on the floor to the door and then back to Merlin. “I’ll kill him,” he swore.
Merlin’s own eyes widened as his sluggish mind put two and two together. “Oh no!” he insisted, splashing water from the cup as his hands waved in protest. “Nothing... untoward... happened, at least not in that sense. I’m not sure what his plans were for the evening, actually, and was hoping not to learn such things, but...”
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, cutting him off. He crouched down next to the chair, taking the cup away and placing it on the table when water spattered upon him. His face was nearly as red as his waistcoat but after blinking several times, possibly to get up the courage, he asked, “Did Lord Halwaine force himself upon you?”
He fully blamed Arthur for the fluster he now felt. “Yes, but no, but of a sort, but not in the way you mean,” he tried.
“We can leave, if it makes it easier,” Morgana offered, a pitying look upon her face as she glanced to Gwen and, really, that was enough. Gwen looked near tears and that just was not acceptable.
Merlin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That is not necessary,” he told her, trying very hard to keep his voice steady. “The truth of the matter is that Lord Halwaine may have had a good many things planned, but matters were not allowed to escalate to that point. Gwen was able to reach you in time, allowing you to reach me in time and, please, no comments about damsels in distress.” He thought a bit of levity was needed right about now; the look upon Arthur’s face told him it was not as appreciated as he thought it would be.
“You are an idiot,” Arthur sighed. He wiped a hand across his face and stood. “You voluntarily put yourself in a position to be harmed, or worse, betting upon others to come to your rescue. What if Gwen had not found us, or if the door had been locked, or if Halwaine had reached for a weapon? There are so very many ways this could have gone wrong.” He traced what Merlin now knew to be the marks on his neck with his eyes, shaking his head. “Even more than it did.”
“And the alternative?” Merlin challenged. “I could not knowingly let Gwen or anyone else face this monster for even a moment alone. The seconds he had her in his grasp he harmed her, what of the long wait? I could not allow it, and I will not should the situation arise again. Please do not ask me to consider the possibility.”
Arthur leaned up against the table, hands gripping the edge for a moment with whitened knuckles before slowly releasing, finger by finger. “I will not,” he promised. “I may not like that you chose to put yourself in danger, but I appreciate what led you to do it.”
“Your choice makes you a far better man than Halwaine will ever be,” Morgana told him, pressing a quick kiss to his brow.
“And drives me to want for a drink,” Arthur muttered, glancing at the water pitcher with distain.
“Guest quarters are usually outfitted with a flask of wine, more if a guest’s tastes are known,” Gwen helpfully supplied. She opened a cupboard to the side and revealed a mixture of flasks and dried fruits and nuts. She took a leather bag from a peg and offered it in his direction. At his nod, she filled another wooden cup and handed it to him.
Arthur took what must have been the cup’s entire contents in a single gulp. “Better,” he admitted, licking his lips. He held his cup out towards Gwen, who dutifully refilled it. “Merlin?” he offered. “If anyone needs this, it is you.”
“Is wine a good idea with an obvious head wound?” Morgana questioned, taking a far more delicate sip of her own cup.
“Think of it as antiseptic,” Arthur shrugged.
“Gaius should love this,” Merlin commented, but dutifully took a small sip. It reminded him a bit too much of the smell emanating from Halwaine though, and decided to stick to water for the time being.
Arthur drank his second cup far more slowly than his first, seeming to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment. As tempted as Merlin was to make a comment on this, he ached too much and was far too tired to be bothered. Gaius would tsk over him, and make him drink things far worse than the wine, but he would sleep and this would all be but a memory in the morning, or so he hoped.
Merlin felt his eyes begin to droop when Arthur spoke again. “You did good,” he said, ruffling his hair and then wincing in sympathy as he realized he’d just pulled at fresh wounds.
Merlin looked from him to Morgana, and then to Gwen. He thought of the kitchen maids and everyone else Halwaine had ever tried this on and how it was unlikely he would get the chance to do so any time soon. He thought of how his idiotic bet as Arthur had called it had paid off with only minimal damage overall. Finally, he thought, “Yeah, I did.”
End.
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Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: Gen, hint of more if you squint that way.
Rating: R
Length: ~ 5,800 words
Warnings: Non-con (I would say light non-con, but there’s really no such thing).
Synopsis: When a nobleman has his sights set on an evening’s entertainment involving an unwilling Gwen, Merlin offers himself in her stead.
Author’s Notes: I’m a Yank. My Beta caught as much as she could, but any and all remaining mistakes are all mine.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myth, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing it and making no profit.
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“I’ll do it,” Merlin announced, surprising himself as well as Lord Halwaine.
“Merlin,” Gwen protested. Her eyes were wide with fear, though he could not tell if it was fear for herself or for him at this time. His own eyes darted between her panicked face and the way her hand was turning a pinkish shade of red from the crushing grip the good Lord had on her wrist.
The large git of nobility, or so he fashioned himself, turned his gaze to Merlin, looking him up and down as if to size him up, though he did not release Gwen. “Who says I want you?” he demanded.
Merlin was surprised Gwen was not getting drunk off the fumes emanating from the man given the wine upon him was strong enough to nearly taste at this distance. Instead of commenting on such, he forced himself to concentrate on convincing the man that he was a better catch than she. Laughable, yes, but he was determined to try.
He really hoped Gwen would forgive him for what he was about to do. “Well,” he began, hoping his stalling came across as coyness instead. Where were the blasted guards when you needed them? “She’s such a fragile little thing, isn’t she? All maidly and girly. So easily damaged or broken. Not to mention the fear of illegitimate rug rats to care for or payoff at a later date in hopes they never threaten your true children’s claims.”
“Go on,” Halwaine said, even as Gwen mouthed, “What are you doing?”
He gathered up his courage and continued. “Now me, on the other hand, I’m, well, a man. I haul armour and weaponry day in and day out.” Yes, he was ignoring the fact that Gwen was the blacksmith’s daughter and could probably take him with one hand tied around her back. “I may look frail, but believe you me, I am far from it.” He tried to straighten his slouch as much as possible and even push out his chest a bit. He may have also, possibly, willed the other man to believe his words with every ounce of his being that did not include glowing golden eyes. “And definitely none of those pesky offspring to worry about, unless there is something you know that I, a lowly court servant, do not.”
He forced himself to look away from his friend, which was just as well as she was now mouthing, “Arthur is going to kill you,” and matched the other man’s gaze. He could see him wavering and did the one thing that always seemed to get him his way: he lowered his head ever so slightly and looked up through his lashes. His mouth had grown dry as he had already run out of things to say, so he licked his lips to try to bide him time to think up something else. The effect was immediate, yet not in the way he had thought it would be.
Gwen’s gasp signalled her release as much as the swoosh of her skirts as she was pushed past him. “Be gone with you,” Halwaine ordered, taking Merlin into his less than tender embrace. “I have found my entertainment for the night.”
“Merlin,” she protested.
“Go tend to your Lady,” he told her, trying to infuse his tone with confidence. He could tell she saw right through it. He hoped she picked up on his hint as he added, “She should be entertaining my Master at this time. Alternately, my Master may be entertaining her, I am not quite sure of their plans for this evening.”
Her eyes widened again, this time in understanding and, really, he hoped he would never have to refer to Arthur as such ever again. “Very well,” she said, voice shaking only slightly. A quick bow later, and she was gone, the echo of her hurried footsteps the only sign she had been there in the first place.
Merlin found himself rather dragged along the hallway and pondered once again as to the location of Camelot’s finest. He also wondered why no one thought to question why the personal servants to the Prince and the King’s ward had disappeared without a word. Just as those thoughts began to turn to how he could use this knowledge to his advantage, Halwaine drew his attention once more. “And just who is your Master, boy?”
He thought fast and used the knowledge that he truly was a terrible liar to his advantage. “A Royal Prat,” he answered without shame. “Nothing at all like you, my Lord.” He tried to smile. When that did not seem like that worked, he licked his lips again.
Halwaine’s quick pace faltered for a moment and it was clear he had lost his train of thought. He screwed up his face, not that it was much to look at in the first place, and tried to right his thoughts. Merlin gave him time; it was obviously quite the task, though it was unclear if the difficulty was from drink or lineage. Regardless the cause, his steps had noticeably slowed and slow was a good thing.
“Your Master, he serves the King?” the man finally asked, which was probably as close to on track as he was going to get.
Merlin nodded, it was not untrue. “All who abide in Camelot serve the King, do they not?” he hedged. And if his less than direct answer happened to serve as an added reminder that they were in Uther’s court and must abide by his rules, all the better. Merlin knew for a fact that what Halwaine had planned was not status quo as far as Uther was concerned.
Now it was the drunken man’s turn to nod as he stopped fully in his tracks. “Just between you an’ me,” he whispered, stagnant wine warm against the nape of Merlin’s neck as he bent low to confide his secret. “The King, he’s rather a, what’s that word you used?”
“Prat,” Merline helpfully supplied.
“Yes, that,” Halwaine agreed. “I don’t think he much likes the way I run my little corner of his great kingdom. Always making laws and shorting supplies and hefting taxes. Having... leisure... with his servantry while I am here? My little way of taking a bit more of what should be mine.”
Merlin silently cursed. The idiot had remembered his original purpose.
“None of you ever complain,” the supposed Lord continued. He smiled, all teeth, which happened to show Merlin that yes, the cook had found the rosemary earlier after all. “Proves to me how much you all want it. Must find your good King and his high and mighty righteousness lacking, eh?”
Or they were all afraid to speak up on the off chance Uther was not truly so righteous and punished them for either participating or complaining were Merlin’s thoughts, but he wisely kept that to himself.
Halwaine crowded him against the stone wall. Merlin lost his balance briefly and grabbed on to whatever he could to catch himself. Unfortunately, that happened to be Halwaine.
“See?” the larger man asked. He pressed himself close, Lordly accoutrements pressing uncomfortably against places Merlin would rather not have pressed. “Just look at you... practically begging for it. Bet you I can make you beg by the time the night is over...”
Guards. Any time, really. He knew the castle was big, just like he knew Arthur and Morgana were on the far side from where he was now. He highly doubted Gwen would dawdle, but he also highly doubted she had even found them yet. He considered the use of his magic, but figured that would be precisely when the guards would finally appear. Accusations of sorcery and head on the chopping block later, and Halwaine would most likely still be free to terrorize the maids and like as, well, Merlin sometimes panicked and spells just did not work right when that happened.
No, as much as he disliked it, he needed to wait. Either for the cavalry to arrive, or until he was safely ensconced in Halwaine’s private rooms with no random witnesses.
Luckily, the man was drunk enough that he no longer appeared certain of his location, nor the location of his rooms. He was paused, tongue poked out in thought as his head wavered between the hallway to the left and the hallway to the right.
“This way, my Lord,” Merlin suggested. He pointed back where they had just come from and put on his most earnest expression.
Halwaine narrowed his thick eyebrows. “Are you daft?” he asked.
“I have been told that before, yes,” Merlin nodded.
It earned him a chuckle and what was surely intended to be a friendly slap upside the head, or at least Merlin hoped so. He blinked away the sting and tried to hide a wince as his escort for the evening pushed himself off the wall and tugged him along in the unfortunately correct direction.
All too soon they stood in front of a door hung with a banner depicting Halwaine’s family crest. It took three tries, but the drunken man finally managed to fumble the lock open and tripped them both inside. Merlin spared a final glance to the stone hallway, not exactly surprised to find it still deserted. The heavy oak slammed shut with a resounding thud, the lock handled with far more surety this time as it slid into place.
Halwaine once again pressed up against Merlin, who openly attempted to squirm away this time. “What, now you’re shy?” he asked with a laugh. He shifted his weight in tandem, not giving Merlin any leeway. Worse yet, it reiterated the reason they were where they were, should there have been any doubt.
“Just wanting to make sure we are truly alone,” the sorcerer answered truthfully. He stood on the tips of his toes, trying to see over the larger man’s broad shoulder. The main room looked to be empty, but he could not quite see the alcove or servants’ area from this angle.
“It’s just us,” Halwaine assured him. “My people know my preferences and will not return until morning.” He stepped back and gestured widely, half-propped on the wall to hold himself upright. “Take a look for yourself,” he offered.
“I believe I shall,” Merlin replied with a tip of his head. He wandered the room slowly, taking note of where everything from weaponry to the ridiculously long cloaks lay should he happen to need them.
Everything was, as promised, empty save the two of them. He circled slowly back towards the door, Halwaine at his heels. “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” he asked. “You made your deal for the maid, though I would still fancy a turn at her as well.”
Merlin knew his eyes were glowing as he unlocked the door, sans key. He clapped his hands together to cover the sound of the bolt sliding home, turning to face his new opponent head on. “Let’s get started, shall we?” he asked with forced mirth.
Halwaine blinked a few times and cocked his head to the side. “Anyone ever tell you the light reflects in those eyes of yours in the most peculiar way?”
“No?” Merlin tried, face schooled in a look of innocence.
“No matter,” Halwaine said, taking a step closer.
Merlin attempted to sidestep him, and almost succeeded. Halwaine made a swipe at his arm, overbalanced, and ended up knocking him towards the large bed that dominated the room. Merlin caught himself on one of the poles supporting the canopy, turning slightly to keep track of just where the good Lord had disappeared.
Unfortunately, he had stumbled closer, pushing Merlin until he ended up in a half-sitting/half-sprawling position at the foot of the bed. “Eager, I like that,” the large man guffawed as he leaned even closer.
Merlin rolled to the side to avoid him and quickly stood in an attempt to distance himself as much as possible. He raised his hands in a slightly defensive position before him as he backed towards the door. “You’d hate for this to be over too quickly,” he tried.
Halwaine had righted himself with the help of the carved wood and took a tottering step towards where Merlin stood. The glare he gave showed his frustration was turning to fury. He reached for his belt and the slide of leather against metal echoed through the room. “Now,” he said, not setting it aside but rather coiling it in his hand. “Your behaviour determines your enjoyment of this little experience, understand? Behave and I’ll make it worth your while. Do not, and I will make worth mine.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow at the man’s lack of subtlety. “Trust me when I say I understand what you need perfectly,” he said, voice as ice.
“Good,” the Lord nodded. He grabbed at Merlin’s habitual scarf and removed it with a single tug. “Now get undressed so we don’t have to waste time with such trivialities.” He turned on his heel and began to walk towards the bed as he pulled at the ties to his trousers.
One whisper from Merlin had the rug flip to the side, becoming tangled around the Lord’s boots and causing him to lunge to the side in an attempt to keep his balance. Another whisper sent the chair he reached to brace himself on sliding just out of reach and he tumbled to the floor. “Do watch your step, sir,” Merlin cheerfully warned. He offered a hand out as if to help him to his feet, but received another glower in return. The emotion portrayed was definitely fury this time.
“How?” Halwaine demanded. He waved off the help and clambered upright on his own.
“Well, you have had much to drink, sir,” Merlin offered. With a smile that did nothing to hide his amusement, he added, “Are you sure you are up for this?”
Halwaine blustered and blurted and waved his hands and dropped the belt and Merlin was not quite sure exactly what he said or meant other than that he had taken the comment as the personal affront that it was intended to be. His grin was wiped off his face, however, when a meaty fist collided with his mouth.
“What was that for?” he demanded after he caught himself on the same chair that had avoided his opponent. He swiped the back of his hand across his lip, not surprised when it came away with blood. The jewelled ring that marked the other man’s station had sliced the flesh clean through. His entire jaw throbbed and he had to blink to rid the sting in his eyes from the pain.
“You do not laugh at your betters, boy,” Halwaine growled. He fisted his hand in the fabric of Merlin’s tunic and dragged him closer.
“All I did was verify you were still desiring to continue,” Merlin tried which, okay, was a lie, but he really rather hoped the man was too drunk to see through it. At least he did not comment on the “betters” comment, which he personally felt showed great resolve on his part.
The other hand lifted to cup his chin, thumb pressed painfully against his split lip and he could feel the blood ooze from it freely. “There are a great many things I desire,” Halwaine told him, lips a mere wine-stenched breath away from his own. “And I shall have them all.”
Merlin opened his mouth to protest, only to find it plundered by one of the most vile and disgusting things he ever had the displeasure of tasting and that included rat. He tried to wrench his head away, but found the man’s grip held sound. He pulled back as much as he could and willed the strip of leather on the floor to wrap around Halwaine’s ankle and pull.
It had the desired effect of causing the other man to trip, but had the undesired additive of taking himself with him as the fist had never released itself from his tunic. He struggled to get away, but Halwaine’s far greater weight pinned him in place. The candlestick from the table collided with his opposition’s skull with a whispered word, but it was not enough – the man was either too drunk or too thick-skulled to notice. “What are you?” Halwaine demanded.
Merlin felt his own skull ring upon the stone floor and decided that this really was not going to plan. There was a growing tightness around his throat that he belatedly realized was his own tunic twisting in the Lord’s grasp. He was shook again, and added another bruise to his collection, his focus good and truly gone at this point, unable to even will the brass holder closer to use as a weapon once more. Of course, it might have helped if he could tell which of the three that blurred before him was the correct one to grab.
Just as he decided to toss it all in and attempt to shout for anyone and everyone who may hear him and make a full fool of himself, the door burst open, a furious Arthur framed by the dark wood.
Halwaine’s head jerked towards the intrusion and Merlin used the distraction to as much advantage as he could. He aimed for the middle of the three candlesticks and felt his hand wrap around it. He then used his makeshift weapon to beat at any and all parts he could reach of the man who really just needed to get off him already.
As if on command, the weight lifted and he found he was able to breathe far more easily than before. With the increased breath came a clarity of vision, and he found Arthur poised above him, glower firmly in place as his attention flitted between Merlin and Halwaine who now lay gasping to his left. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Arthur demanded, gaze finally settled upon his erstwhile manservant.
Merlin had a moment of panic, not certain if he had used his magic to lift the bastard off of himself before remembering he could barely move a piece of brass let alone that arse of a man, which meant Arthur himself had done it. His eyes darted to that piece of brass to find it spattered with a bit of blood that he was fairly certain was not his own. He put two and two together and silently cursed: The Crown Prince had just walked in on a lowly servant beating an unarmed nobleman.
He opened his mouth to speak and found no such power. He forced himself to cough to clear the bile from his throat and finally managed to make a sound. “I was defending myself!” he insisted, just as Halwaine seemed to find a voice of his own and accused, “He attacked me, sire! With no provocation!”
Merlin blinked, not having calculated the man’s to think on the fly into his little scenario and tried to think of a way to convince Arthur that he was the victim not the criminal in this instance.
It was apparently unnecessary as Arthur turned to the man who supposedly swore fealty to the crown and therefore the Prince who wore it and snarled, “You? Shut up.” Turning to Merlin, in the same growl he demanded, “You? Speak.”
Merlin dropped the candlestick he still held as he figured it did not exactly help his case, and attempted to push himself into a somewhat upright position. His body protested in new and interestingly painful ways, so he settled on a half-sprawl sort of thing. Oddly enough, Arthur gave him time to steady himself, his eyes going somewhat softer around the edges as his glare lessened.
“Lord Halwaine brought me here for reasons best known to him,” Merlin began, cursing the way his voice was little more than a whisper. He coughed once more and, louder now, added, “He was apparently displeased with my services.” After a pause, he belatedly added, “Sire.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows, clearly finding the explanation lacking. Before he could voice as much, Halwaine cut in. “He’s a sorcerer, sire!” he insisted. “He bewitched me and forced his way into my rooms. He attacked me with his magic!”
Merlin widened his eyes in disbelief. So, yes, the sorcerer and attacking with magic part were true, but forced his way into the rooms? The idea was laughable. “And what of Gwen? Did she bewitch you as well when you grabbed her and tried to drag her here against her will?” he challenged. “Three separate kitchen maids alerted me to your efforts before I found you manhandling her back to your rooms.”
Arthur did not even deign to turn around as he asked, “Is that true, Gwen?”
Merlin tried to focus his still cloudy vision enough to make out his friend now standing in the doorway, a blue and black shape that could only be Morgana at her side. “Lord Halwaine was most forcible in his intentions, sire,” she confirmed. “Merlin arranged to be taken in my stead to allow time to alert you.”
“Really?” Arthur confirmed. It was only a single word, but the way he drew it out spoke volumes.
She stepped fully into the room and must have been able to see her saviour for the first time. She gasped and hurried her last few steps before she dropped to the floor. “Oh, Merlin!” she cried. “What did he do to you?”
“I am fine,” he insisted. He tried to shrug away from her touch and, ow, it was quite the painful task. “Okay, so maybe not fine,” he amended.
Her hands ran through his hair and he could not fathom what she thought she would find there until his head hollered in protest and her fingers came away with blood. “Not fine at all,” she confirmed.
He grabbed her forearm with gentle fingers and lightly traced the still blossoming bruising along her wrist. “Gwen?” he asked.
“Far better off than you, I’m afraid,” she said wryly. She pulled out of his grasp and helped him to sit fully upright.
“You will both be seen by Gaius,” Morgana announced. She strode fully into the room now and stood at Arthur’s side.
“They were both working together!” Halwaine tried. He rolled from his side to his back, but had yet to attempt to sit up on his own “She lured me and then he tricked me with his magic!” There was a frantic look to his eye as he looked around the room. “I believe they intended to rob me, and he beat me when I tried to stop him!”
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “Do shut up,” he ordered. He glanced down at the belt on the floor and raised his eyebrows at the man’s untied trousers. “Also, do cover up, there are ladies present.”
Halwaine hurriedly hiked up his trousers and pulled his tunic down as much as possible. Given that he was still clearly drunk, this proved to be quite the feat. Unfortunately, he did not follow Arthur’s first order and began to prattle on. “I am a Lord of your father’s court!” he insisted with what he must have thought passed for authority. “Just whose word are you going to take? More importantly, whose word will your father accept? That of nobility who swears himself to your King, or that of lowly servants caught with a weapon in the act? We both know his thoughts on sorcery, they will be put to death for this!”
Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Arthur with a single look. “Let me present this to you from my point of view,” the Prince offered, head tilted slightly to the side. “I was having a refreshing cup of tea with dear Morgana when her serving maid rushed in to advise us that my idiot manservant had just traded his virtue for her own. We obligingly come here to find you, a man easily nearly thrice his size, apparently assaulting him whilst presently in quite an unacceptable state of undress.”
“Your manservant?” Halwaine asked, face paling. His hands once again tugged his tunic down sharply.
Arthur ignored the interruption. “Whose word should we trust? That of the personal servant to the Prince of Camelot and the serving maid of the King’s ward, or that of a man known for his lack of respect and appetites of the flesh?”
“I would swear upon Gwen’s word,” Morgana said without hesitation, crossing her arms before her.
“And I, unfortunately, would swear upon Merlin’s,” Arthur admitted. With a shake of his head he added, “He can’t lie to save his life, really.”
Morgana nodded in agreement and added, “And claiming witchcraft now, after these accusations were levied against you does seem to be quite grasping at straws to save yourself.”
“You can’t be serious!” Halwaine protested. He moved as if to push himself up from the floor, but his balance had not yet returned.
“Yes, I quite am,” Arthur assured him. “You may also note that the laws of Camelot treat false accusations of sorcery with nearly the same severity as witchcraft itself.” Then, with a tone infused with boredom in the way only royalty ever could, he snapped his fingers and added, “Guards?”
Merlin watched as the great guards of Camelot finally made their appearance. His guess was they had been waiting in the hallway since Arthur and Morgana’s arrival, but it could have also been that they were finally back from their privy break or wherever they had disappeared to.
Halwaine lunged towards Arthur, who stepped to the side with the same uninterested look to his face. “Add attempted assault of the Prince to his charges,” he noted, the very corner of his mouth curled in pleasure as he turned towards Merlin.
The guards hauled Halwaine upright, protesting the entire way even as he grappled with his sagging garments, at one point insisting that the Prince himself must have been bewitched, which was not taken lightly at all by his handlers. “Cell or dungeon, sire?” one of the men asked. Merlin thought his name was Thomas, but he was not quite certain. He vaguely remembered him as the one who let him sneak in after the gates were to be closed one night.
“Cell,” Arthur replied. “He can stay there until the morning when my father sorts this out.”
The guard nodded and gestured to the others who dragged the possibly soon to be former Lord into the hallway with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He paused as he turned to follow, what looked to be a pitying glance spared in Merlin and Gwen’s direction. “Shall I send for the physician, sire?”
“Please do,” Morgana told him. With a final nod, he disappeared after his men.
“I don’t need a physician,” Merlin protested. It was ridiculous; he was perfectly fine. Well, maybe not perfectly, but he far from needed Gaius’ overzealous ministrations.
Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. The sudden change of position made his head swim, that was all, and he really did not need the Royal Prat’s steadying hand.
“Yes, you do,” Arthur said in a tone that brokered no argument. Not that said tone usually stopped Merlin. What did stop him was the gentle way the Prince lowered him into one of the chairs with the admonishment, “Sit down before you fall down.”
“I was sitting just fine on the floor,” Merlin sulked, though he had to admit that the soft cushions on the wood felt quite nice on his back as he slouched.
“You were laying in your own blood!” Arthur replied.
“I was...” Merlin started to answer. Arthur stepped to the side to show more than a smattering of reddish brown upon the stones were he had been. “Huh, that explains the ache in the head...” He knew Gwen had found blood but really had not thought it was anywhere near that amount.
Arthur mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “You are an ache in the head,” as he paced before him.
“Some of that may be Lord Halwaine’s,” Merlin offered as he eyed the bloody candlestick.
“Not nearly enough,” Morgana sighed. She must have realized her response was less than lady-like as she added, “I will not apologize for my words. The man is a blight upon this kingdom.”
“I know,” Arthur agreed. He paused in his pacing long enough to help Gwen to rise before he continued. “He is also a Lord who has sworn fealty to my father and offers his required share of crops and workers upon demand.” He turned on his heel and addressed Merlin, “Not that any of that excuses his behaviour and, by God, did he attempt to garrote you with your own tunic?”
Merlin reached for his throat and found his hands slapped away to be replaced by tender fingers along the raw skin. “Possibly?” he admitted, voice harsh to his own ears. He tried coughing to clear his throat, but all that did was remind him that the much larger Lord had been pressed against his chest for far too long. “Ow.”
“Here, try this,” Gwen offered. She poured water from the carafe on the table into one of the small wooden cups and held it towards him.
“Thank you,” he replied, taking the cup with hands that only shook a little, thankful no one made mention of that little observation or he’d be in Gaius’ care even longer. He took a wonderfully cool sip and felt it dribble down his throat. “Might help get that vile taste out of my mouth as well,” he commented, taking another, deeper draught.
He looked up from his cup to find not understanding, but fury. Arthur’s eyes darted between the belt still coiled on the floor to the door and then back to Merlin. “I’ll kill him,” he swore.
Merlin’s own eyes widened as his sluggish mind put two and two together. “Oh no!” he insisted, splashing water from the cup as his hands waved in protest. “Nothing... untoward... happened, at least not in that sense. I’m not sure what his plans were for the evening, actually, and was hoping not to learn such things, but...”
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, cutting him off. He crouched down next to the chair, taking the cup away and placing it on the table when water spattered upon him. His face was nearly as red as his waistcoat but after blinking several times, possibly to get up the courage, he asked, “Did Lord Halwaine force himself upon you?”
He fully blamed Arthur for the fluster he now felt. “Yes, but no, but of a sort, but not in the way you mean,” he tried.
“We can leave, if it makes it easier,” Morgana offered, a pitying look upon her face as she glanced to Gwen and, really, that was enough. Gwen looked near tears and that just was not acceptable.
Merlin took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That is not necessary,” he told her, trying very hard to keep his voice steady. “The truth of the matter is that Lord Halwaine may have had a good many things planned, but matters were not allowed to escalate to that point. Gwen was able to reach you in time, allowing you to reach me in time and, please, no comments about damsels in distress.” He thought a bit of levity was needed right about now; the look upon Arthur’s face told him it was not as appreciated as he thought it would be.
“You are an idiot,” Arthur sighed. He wiped a hand across his face and stood. “You voluntarily put yourself in a position to be harmed, or worse, betting upon others to come to your rescue. What if Gwen had not found us, or if the door had been locked, or if Halwaine had reached for a weapon? There are so very many ways this could have gone wrong.” He traced what Merlin now knew to be the marks on his neck with his eyes, shaking his head. “Even more than it did.”
“And the alternative?” Merlin challenged. “I could not knowingly let Gwen or anyone else face this monster for even a moment alone. The seconds he had her in his grasp he harmed her, what of the long wait? I could not allow it, and I will not should the situation arise again. Please do not ask me to consider the possibility.”
Arthur leaned up against the table, hands gripping the edge for a moment with whitened knuckles before slowly releasing, finger by finger. “I will not,” he promised. “I may not like that you chose to put yourself in danger, but I appreciate what led you to do it.”
“Your choice makes you a far better man than Halwaine will ever be,” Morgana told him, pressing a quick kiss to his brow.
“And drives me to want for a drink,” Arthur muttered, glancing at the water pitcher with distain.
“Guest quarters are usually outfitted with a flask of wine, more if a guest’s tastes are known,” Gwen helpfully supplied. She opened a cupboard to the side and revealed a mixture of flasks and dried fruits and nuts. She took a leather bag from a peg and offered it in his direction. At his nod, she filled another wooden cup and handed it to him.
Arthur took what must have been the cup’s entire contents in a single gulp. “Better,” he admitted, licking his lips. He held his cup out towards Gwen, who dutifully refilled it. “Merlin?” he offered. “If anyone needs this, it is you.”
“Is wine a good idea with an obvious head wound?” Morgana questioned, taking a far more delicate sip of her own cup.
“Think of it as antiseptic,” Arthur shrugged.
“Gaius should love this,” Merlin commented, but dutifully took a small sip. It reminded him a bit too much of the smell emanating from Halwaine though, and decided to stick to water for the time being.
Arthur drank his second cup far more slowly than his first, seeming to lose himself in his thoughts for a moment. As tempted as Merlin was to make a comment on this, he ached too much and was far too tired to be bothered. Gaius would tsk over him, and make him drink things far worse than the wine, but he would sleep and this would all be but a memory in the morning, or so he hoped.
Merlin felt his eyes begin to droop when Arthur spoke again. “You did good,” he said, ruffling his hair and then wincing in sympathy as he realized he’d just pulled at fresh wounds.
Merlin looked from him to Morgana, and then to Gwen. He thought of the kitchen maids and everyone else Halwaine had ever tried this on and how it was unlikely he would get the chance to do so any time soon. He thought of how his idiotic bet as Arthur had called it had paid off with only minimal damage overall. Finally, he thought, “Yeah, I did.”
End.
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