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Chapter Text

Lady Clarissa of the Beckett family was almost giddy with excitement, an odd feeling to have when one felt like they were marching into a war. Clarissa easily slid her mask into place, wiping a thumb along the bottom curve of her lip just to make sure her lipstick wasn’t smudged or out of place. Clarissa easily fixed her armor into place, tugging at the top half of her lilac dress so that it looked as if her bosom was about to bounce free from the confining fabric. And she’s grabbed hold of her reason for being in his vicinity, her little trick for coming to him in the first place, the goblet’s dark wine-colored liquid brimming nearest to the top in her dainty hands. And now, all she needed to do was make sure that her target was in place.

Arthur Pendragon.

Lady Clarissa’s lips curved into a smirk that would’ve made her mother—a very eager and headstrong woman who had always gone after what she wanted and dug her claws into it—very proud of her. She could see the prince now, through the small gaps between the people that were separating them, and her wicked smile grew even wider as she saw him coming closer, pushing his way through the crowd as if he had somewhere to be. Prince Arthur, the lady thought as her eyes went half-lidded, trailing her green orbs down the prince’s shapely form…it was a huge shame that he was wearing the ridiculous red cloth that was long enough to hide most of it from view. The prince really was such a handsome kind of fella, and she couldn’t wait to see his eyes latching onto her. She, with her many years—but not too many; she was a lady, and everybody worth a damn knew ladies were timeless and beautiful creatures of adulthood—had somehow never managed to bag herself a prince. Oh, she’s had nobles and squires, both married and non-married; stately generals like the uncle she was currently staying with; seasoned knights looking for a good time; and probably everything in between. But a prince, rare as they were since not everybody could have been a royal, was something she’d never tasted before. And Lady Clarissa was quite eager to see if he was any better than the dozens of men she had already had crawling out of her bed after she kicked them out.

She bet he was.

A prince could probably touch her in places no other man knew to pay proper attention to. He could probably reach deep inside of her and pull her insides straight out through her soaking center. He could probably take her straight to new lengths, make her see stars, and might even be good enough for her to be willing enough for a repeat performance. Many men, as dumb as they usually were, would assume she’d let them return to her. As if she was some kind of ‘loose woman’ just because she had allowed them to taste her sweet nectar a single time. Clarissa usually crushed that delusion beneath her heel and knew she had left a platoon of broken hearts behind her everywhere she went. But it was quickly becoming clear to the lady that Arthur Pendragon might’ve been her one exception.

Everybody had to have one, correct?

That one person you would allow into your bedroom for a double dip, that one person who probably knew how to move his tongue against her slick folds better than most men knew how to move their whole bodies, that one man she would welcome behind a closed door. It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship…there were men in this world, like Arthur, who looked as if they would be good doing anything. She was curious about the intensity that would shine within his eyes as he touched her, how powerful his thrusts would be… She could already feel herself growing wet between her thighs. And she had to clench the quivering muscles to prevent a mess from running down her inner thighs… She couldn’t remember the last time she was so turned on without being touched.

But she had never been challenged either.

Which only excited her more. 

Clarissa Beckett had always found men to be so…easily swayed by their own male desires. Ready to think with the head between their legs instead of the one on their shoulders. And she had often used that as a weapon; most men would sing like a bird to have a beautiful woman in their bed. She simply had to smile half the time, and they would tell her everything that she wanted to know before she even had to ask it. And she had thought Arthur was just the same, that day so many months ago, when she had entered his room and coaxed him to pay attention to her. He had fallen for her charms too easily, allowing a hand to slide down his pants, responding to her as if he was already tired of having the same partner within his bed. Oooh, if Merlin hadn’t walked in, she would’ve had him.

Which was probably most of the reason as to why she wanted Arthur so badly.

Merlin had gotten in the way, and now Arthur was behaving far differently from how she had pegged him. He was defying her at every turn, brushing her away as if her feminine grace meant absolutely nothing, turning away from her as if she wasn’t worth the breath in his body. Clarissa couldn’t have that…no, no, no, no. Clarissa was beautiful, and she was glamorous, and any man should carry themselves with PRIDE to have had her just once and should have been riding on cloud fucking nine to know SHE was the one chasing THEM this time. But it had all changed, the little game Clarissa was toying with between the consort and his prince escaping her delicate fingers after ARTHUR had decided on his own that they were done. Clarissa had never been more humiliated, even after holding onto her composure with the grace and ease that every true-born noble lady should have; then she had left that field after the prince lost his mind and berated her right there and then. Didn’t even have enough of the common decency to take her somewhere private before telling her he was no longer ‘interested’ in her.

As if she believed such a thing…there was nothing in this world, Clarissa had found, that couldn’t be persuaded in her favor. And as her elderly father had always told her, Clarissa had a silken tongue that could sway most people to do her bidding. It was why she was brimming with confidence when she took a step out into the pathway Arthur had been heading down, timing it with such perfection that the prince had to jolt to a stop before he could run her down with his much larger body. The goblet in her hands nearly spilled over the lip from where they had bumped into the other before it settled back down, but it was only a secondary notice to the lady. Her first and foremost was standing in front of her right now, and Clarissa angled her body into its most seductive of stances.

“Arthur!” She exclaimed loudly, as if she was just as surprised to see him there as he was to see her now, making her green eyes go wide as if she’s innocent in this fated meeting of theirs. This was an age-old dance of hers, one she had practiced many times with many different men… Men often liked to believe they were something special, liked to believe their very presence could make a girl like Clarissa happy. It was a superiority thing, and these men rarely figured out Clarissa had been the one who picked them instead of the other way around. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you just now. You nearly ran me down. But I admit, I’m not entirely displeased with it. I feel as if it has been entirely too long since we last spoke.”

And Clarissa pouted, her thick bottom lip jutting out of her mouth to give him something…sensual to focus on. The color staining her lips, the way they were glistening as if they were meant for him to touch. Such foolish creatures these men were, their eyes always drawn down to the curve of her lips as if they had fallen into some sort of trance. And Arthur was no different, she figured as the prince eyed her, but…he was frowning. Why was Arthur frowning at her… Grown men did not frown at her! And then Arthur was looking somewhere beyond her head, trying to find something perhaps, but turning his attention back onto her when he couldn’t find it. A wrinkle creasing his brows together as if he may’ve truly been displeased by her presence.

“What are you doing here, Clarissa? I thought we had a clear understanding of what I expect from you the last time I saw you. Which was just yesterday, so it hasn’t been nearly as long as you seem to believe. Which, in case you forget, I told you I am no longer interested in having you hang around me.” The blond prince said in a surprisingly blunt tone, making Clarissa’s confidence slip just a bit as she noted the aggravation in his voice. If she were a man, he most likely wouldn’t have been kind enough to use just words with her. “So why, on God’s green earth, would you think it’s okay to approach me like this? You are meant to stay in some part of the castle that I’m not in. Not be standing in front of me and acting as if what I said earlier wasn’t serious. Because believe me, I wasn’t playing around with you.”

At some point during Arthur’s lecture, Clarissa’s smile had dropped until it was gone almost entirely… This was not how she had meant for things to go so early on in their conversation. Yes, perhaps she should expect some kind of lashing out, some kind of resistance to her pull, but…she was a seductive creature not meant to be denied. Arthur had simply had a lapse in judgment when he sent her away that first time, nothing she would hold against him considering all he was dealing with… being a prince and married to…that thing! That little boy who couldn’t possibly please him like she could. But Arthur was still hardly looking at her at all, his eyes constantly darting over her head as he tried finding some random object behind her. Clarissa almost turned around to look for herself, but it wasn’t something she should do. Arthur’s focus had to be on her, and it should not be on whatever he was looking for, so Clarissa threw her head back before she started to laugh. A light twinkle of a thing, pure innocent grace, working as a charm when Arthur turned his gaze back onto her, frown deepening after she took what he said as nothing more than a joke.

“Please, Arthur. You make it sound as if I WANTED this to happen. Do try and keep up; we both ran into the other. It’s not like I searched you out and made sure I was standing here right when you would be passing! What kind of girl do you take me for? I am not that desperate for your attention.” Clarissa said, with an innocent air surrounding her, meant to make Arthur ashamed of how he was treating her. Like she was some sort of nefarious being trying to ease her way between him and his marriage. She was, but Arthur hardly needed to know the facts until after Clarissa saw Merlin’s face when he realized his husband slept with someone other than him. Somebody who would KNOW how to make such a prince sing. “And besides, Arthur. This is a party; it’s expected for me to come here, so I can’t ‘stay’ in some part of the castle you’re not in. I was invited, and I intend to make it a night to remember. You can hardly expect me to stand on the wall all night and wait for…somebody…to approach me. What would the fun in that be? When there are a million other things that could…rile my interest.”

And Clarissa had no shame as she allowed her eyes to wander over the form of the prince, taking in the curves and the muscles that would soon bear scratch marks when she was done with him. And she saw the exact moment when the prince noticed her double meaning; Arthur went rigid and sharp, staring down his shapely nose at her. A lesser woman may have been intimidated by Arthur looking at her like this, but Clarissa was not a lesser woman…it was obvious to the lady that Arthur was all wound up. And that only made Clarissa more sure of herself… Merlin clearly didn’t know how to please a man of Arthur’s strict…caliber. Or Arthur wouldn’t look nearly as stressed out as he seemed to be in the past few days. If Merlin was failing the one duty he had as a husband, then…it could hardly be blamed on Clarissa if she decided to pick up the slack. People would hardly blame even Arthur for seeking out…other ways to relax himself.

“I’m sure there are thousands of men here who would tickle your fancy other than me; considering the history that we have together, I’m sure even you can understand why I won’t be entertaining whatever notion you have got going in your mind for even a moment.” Arthur said, his entire body bristling, each one of his muscles tense, his eyes sharp enough it could’ve been a razor wire. And Lady Clarissa blinked, her fingers tightening around the goblet in her hand… It may just be her imagination, but she was sure Arthur had just called her stupid in his own roundabout, noble way. Clarissa scowled… She wasn’t stupid! All she was doing was making sure Arthur knew she wasn’t offended by him sending her away earlier! That he still had the chance of being welcomed in her bed if he played his cards right! If he played along with her games. “Now, if you don’t mind, LADY CLARISSA, I find I have more important matters to attend to too. I am sure my consort will start wondering where I am if I don’t show up soon. I don’t believe I need to tell you about the fury he will bring if he catches us talking to the other once again.”

Clarissa blinked, her mouth popping open just a bit in sheer disbelief… The man had not treated her nearly as awful the last time she had approached him at a party like this. He had shown her the utmost respect, and it wasn’t like Merlin was standing right behind them and watching what was going on…that would be something that came later. When Clarissa guided an unsuspecting Arthur in that direction…she quite enjoyed seeing if she could push Merlin’s button. But her fortune seemed to not be in her favor, as her gaze wandered from Arthur… Her spine went ramrod straight at what she saw only a few feet away…her old friends. Three girls, each wearing a different colored dress (green, yellow, and blue in a similar style to her own lilac) that Clarissa had used to hang out with on a daily basis. Trading gossip and secrets as if it were currency, pushing the servants to their limits in their quest to please just one of them, working just to find a perfect match that would please their parents enough to get them off of their backs…or at least, they had been her friends. Until those horrid rumors of her impurity had started spreading… Clarissa had always been so careful to not let a single whiff of her activities get far from her bedroom. But she had gotten a bit greedy when it had come to Arthur, and now…the same friends who would no longer associate with her were seeing her being rejected.

The three girls had large, voluminous fans opened in front of their faces, eyes glinting with amusement as they hid back their giggles. Clarissa could feel her face burning, the humiliation stinging and sharp…this was almost worse than the actual rejection. And Arthur was still looking somewhere over her head to find… Clarissa’s jaw went tight when it looked as if Arthur had finally found the thing he’d been fixated on. His entire face lit up as if she weren’t standing right there in front of him. And Clarissa knew it was stupid and knew that she was pushing her luck, but her friends were right there, and she wasn’t ready to give into the humiliation. So, when Arthur started walking past her, she took a fistful of his sleeve close to his wrist. And she threw her head back before she started to laugh. Louder than any lass should, belly aching, as if the other man had just told her the funniest of jokes. One may have even mistaken her to be a hyena, the way she was going at it, pressing herself closer so her far above average chest could lean against Arthur’s bicep and… Clarissa fumbled.

Her laughter cut itself off abruptly when Arthur took a large step back, all but wrenching his sleeve out of her grip as if she were diseased. If Clarissa did not have as much practice as she did wearing her heels, she would have ended up on the floor, no thanks to Arthur. But the fumble was humiliating enough, with her face burning brighter than embers as the quiet giggles from her old friends grew louder. She slowly straightened up, eyes looking on Arthur’s completely unimpressed face…god. If the ground could open up right now and swallow her whole, she would have been thankful. Clarissa had never made such a fool out of herself, and she was still holding the stupid goblet she had been meant to give to Arthur as some sort of ‘peace offering,’ and now…

“What do you think you are doing?”

There was a muscle in Clarissa's jawline that twitched violently; her knuckles had gone white around her goblet; she felt as if she was a little girl being scolded after she had stepped out of line. But Clarissa wasn’t a little girl; she was a full-grown woman who had only wanted Arthur to appreciate her feminine form in a way he never could when it was Merlin’s. Why was that so difficult for him to do? Why wasn’t Arthur falling for the bait like any other man… Clarissa couldn’t have made herself more available to him if she tried. And yet…nothing. Nothing other than scorn came from the prince, and Clarissa tightened her hand along her goblet, keeping her eyes focused in front of her so she wouldn’t be forced to see her friend’s faces.

“I…understand that you may have some reservations, Arthur. Your consort has a habit of…stepping out of line when he’s displeased with something, and I am sure you don’t wish to cause another scene. And I am sure I don’t want to have my name linked to something that your consort has done.” Clarissa said as she forced herself to swallow her spite down… What she wanted to do was dump all her wine onto the prince’s head. To force him to walk out of here with his fully soggy clothes as if he were doing the walk of shame, to make him feel the same humiliation she was enduring now. But Clarissa had more class than that, and as an angry red flush built up on Arthur’s cheek, furious on behalf of that idiotic consort of his, Clarissa spoke up again, “Perhaps you were right, and it’s really me that has stepped out of line. Perhaps I should’ve listened to you after you made yourself clear about…not seeing me any longer. I simply thought you and I…we briefly had a good time together. I simply wanted to…recapture that moment. But it’s clearly foolish of me.”

Clarissa was honestly surprised with herself, being able to get all of that out of her mouth without throwing herself a massive tantrum. It just wasn’t fair, being forced to grovel so she could keep some sort of standing with the prince. Until she found another way to sink her claws into him, at least. But that moment is clearly not going to be tonight. Or…was it… Clarissa straightened up with eager anticipation when Arthur leaned into her. Lowering his head down until his lips were brushing against the shell of her ear, his hand came up to overlap along her fingers as he took hold of the other side of the goblet. His breath fell down the length of her neck, and her eyes were practically glowing with interest… Not all was lost. Not if Arthur could stand to be this close to her. Not when he felt so strong and sturdy against her… Perhaps they really could reenact that very first day they’d had together. Perhaps Clarissa actually would get the chance to slide her hand further down his pants that she had the first time, could wrap her hand around the hot, throbbing erection…

“Clearly, one of us had more fun than the other.”

It was as if glass had shattered all around her, Clarissa’s eyes going wide while she stared straight ahead. Unable to comprehend or see anything that may have been happening right in front of her… Had he just…had he just said what it was she thought he said? Had Arthur… Clarissa’s heart was a dull thud inside of her chest as she tried understanding what she had just heard. Had Arthur… Was he insinuating he hadn’t had fun with her that first night? Was Arthur saying that Clarissa hadn’t made him feel good in their brief affair together? Clarissa was able to feel herself starting to shake with fury… WHAT! She was PERFECT! She was BEAUTIFUL! She was a GODDESS! And Arthur had the NERVE to go and disrespect her like that? To act as if she couldn’t have rocked his entire world if she had simply been given the chance. She should…she should… If he weren’t the bloody prince, Clarissa would have raked her nails across his face. And she would have screamed assault, had him bloody well arrested for this offense. It would’ve been the last thing he did, turning her down… Guards would’ve been AT her side within seconds! He would’ve never seen the light of day again if it went her way…

“Thanks for the drink, by the way. I am sure my CONSORT will love it.”

Arthur enunciated his husband’s title, as if he was trying to rub salt into the red, gushing wound that had just been carved into her chest the same way that an ax could’ve done. And Clarissa could hardly blink before Arthur was taking her drink away from her… The lady’s eyes narrowed sharply, and her shoulders had started to shake when Arthur started walking away from her. He was TAKING her drink from her…the same drink that was meant to be given to Arthur like a token of her gratitude. For giving into her whims. But now he had taken it, and he was going to give it to Merlin, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this boiling hot rage. Clarissa was usually calm and collected; she got her payback quietly and without anything coming back onto her. But it wasn’t going to happen this time. No… Arthur Pendragon wasn’t going to go crossing her and then walk away from her as if she was nothing but some cheap thing he didn’t care to entertain any longer…

“Do you think Consort Merlin will want to see you after what you did?”

Arthur had only gotten a few steps away from her, but he stopped straight in his tracks as if she had just said the magic words. Clarissa sneered in distaste, ignoring her friends so she could stride across the small length that separated them. Fucking Arthur…he refused to even speak to her more than he would’ve had to, but the second his consort was mentioned, he was suddenly all ears? It was pitiful and disgusting, and Clarissa was damn well going to get her two cents in while she could. After all, Clarissa had heard a few things when she’d spoken to Merlin and Morgana herself. And what lovely information it had been for her to find, though she hadn’t considered it would be anything of note until this very moment. If Arthur wanted to crush her spirit, then she would simply have to do the same thing.

“I don’t think he’s going to be very pleased with you, not after the way you just stood in front of this entire crowd and spoke about that unseemly rumor that’s been spread about him. I mean, you clearly didn’t think that one through very much, did you?” Clarissa released a little thing that could’ve been a laugh, but it was too casual to actually BE casual. And though Clarissa couldn’t catch his face, she could still see the way Arthur’s shoulders were bunching up beneath his tunic. She could see the tension in those shoulder blades as if they’d been her own…he was listening to her. Good. Clarissa carried on, a knowing tone in her voice that was meant to bloom a seed of doubt in the prince. “I suppose that it was a valiant effort, trying to compose your consort’s modesty and all that, but I am sure, for many of the nobles at least, you may as well have been leading a lamb to the slaughterhouse. All you’ve done is put Merlin out there, and even if you ‘do’ start arresting people, all you’ve done is brought new life to the rumor itself. You might have had good intentions, but you’ve only brought Merlin into focus all over again. What would your consort have to say about that once you approach him?”
 
Clarissa still couldn’t see Arthur’s face, but she could feel the confident smirk returning to her face anyway. Yes…Arthur had gotten one up on her. But she’s the one that showed Arthur up… Stupid, gullible Arthur. Defending his consort and not being appreciated by him…being appreciated by her but not wanting her either…what a conflict Arthur was in. But Clarissa SUPPOSED she could be just a bit generous, considering the circumstances…she MIGHT be willing to allow Arthur her forgiveness. If he ceased this nonsense and left that dratted boy by himself. She only needed five minutes of his time, after all, to make him regret what he had said to her. Five simple minutes, and she could get his toes to go curling in pleasure. Five simple minutes, and she would show him how lucky he was to have her. And surely Arthur would prefer actually CELEBRATING tonight instead of wasting his evening tracking Merlin back down all over again…

“Come with me, Arthur. I know that you want to too. We don’t have to go off and do anything. We can stay here if you want to, out in the open…you know. It was only a few months ago we got to have our first dance; it was such a shame we had to end it earlier than planned.” Clarissa said in a seductive tone, pressing herself up against Arthur’s back like some kind of bitch in heat, pulling out all the stops that usually had the tongues of men wagging in anticipation. It was such a shame, really, Clarissa thought, that Morgana had interrupted that first dance of theirs. Clarissa could’ve probably had Arthur, fully, if they had time to swoon together properly. “I would love it if you accompanied me to the dance floor…if only so we could have a proper goodbye. To finish our story the same way that we started. So very few people get to leave their relationships on any kind of good note. I would hate it if ours soured just because you allowed your anger to get in the way…”

Clarissa was quite a devious thing, she thought with a Cheshire Cat smile, as she pressed against the top of Arthur’s shoulder blade and allowed him to feel it through his tunic. She had quite enjoyed the attention she’d gotten from her friends after their dance had happened that first time; she was sure that it was something that could happen again. All she needed was for Arthur to give in so he could cooperate with her just a little. All she was asking for was…one simple dance. A simple dance, to Arthur. But to her…it meant regaining the attention of her friends who would want to know…how close she was…to Arthur. It meant seeing Merlin’s face once he got a look at where his precious husband chose to be. It meant being the one on top instead of the one that had been pushed into humiliation, treated like nothing more than a slug… Clarissa reached out to take Arthur’s hand in hers. Her long nails scraping lightly along the palm of his hand, confident in herself that she had managed to get the two of them back on track…until Arthur wrenched his hand out of hers as if she had just slapped him.

“No!” Arthur’s sharp tone has Clarissa taking a step back, and when the prince whips back around to finally face her, she could see the anger written along it. Vibrant and strong, his face almost turned red, and when he gave her a soft poke against the shoulder, it felt as if he had just stabbed her. “I really cannot say for sure what kind of games you are playing here, but read my lips so I can make this loud and clear. There is no RELATIONSHIP between us! There’s not a single BEGINNING, nor is there an ENDING. I danced with you one time, and let me assure you, it was probably the biggest mistake I could’ve made. If I could go back in time, I would’ve chosen to stay with my consort against that bloody wall and spent my night talking to him. I can assure you, his insight toward any of the most mundane of subjects would’ve been more thrilling than that single minute we had together.”

Clarissa’s body started shaking all over again, not with fear but with the returning of her anger. She was TRYING here! Trying to talk Arthur into giving up on the stupid being he called a consort, trying to tempt him into a single evening with her so she could lord it over Merlin for the rest of their days. But Arthur was so …stubborn! He was all but cursing her out right now… HER! A LADY within their kingdom’s court! What kind of man wanted to sit on the sidelines listening and listening to Merlin droning on about whatever he drones on about! When there was a very available girl standing in front of him that he could be doing instead … But what really got Clarissa was when she saw her friends leaving. The group of three girls nudging each other and walking past her as if they’d already seen what they needed to see… Clarissa blinked rapidly to get rid of these frustrated tears trying to escape her. And when Arthur tried to leave her AGAIN, the lady nearly went rabid. 

“I don’t understand why you are always going after him! Or why you are really choosing him over me! You should hear how he talks about you; he’s not going to appreciate you! He’s not! You can try and try and try again, and all he’ll do is turn you away! How can you not see that?” Clarissa exclaimed, throwing down her arms on either side of her as she took several frantic steps to the prince in her attempt to get closer to him. Arthur seemed to be ignoring her this time as he continued walking; only the subtle flexing of his shoulder made Lady Clarissa know that he had heard her at all. And Clarissa got more desperate, already knowing she had lost this battle to MERLIN, that her tongue left her, “Go ahead and tell me you know what kind of freak he is, and that’s why you keep chasing him around! You’re his husband, so surely you know about the deformities that he suffers! Both in the head and in the body! His scars…the ones on his wrists, I saw them once! Why would you waste your time on somebody that does such a sick thing to themselves?”

Clarissa barely got the final word out before Arthur snatched her around her wrist, grabbing onto her faster than she could blink. His squeeze came so punishingly that she winced, the fight behind her words dying out as the blond prince started dragging her through the partygoers. Clarissa followed, feeling her stomach churning with unease as Arthur led them off to the side; the two of them were less likely to be overheard over here. And this might have been a good spot for kissing at one point, but seeing the pure, unaltered HATRED creasing the prince’s face into a hard mask made Clarissa think she wasn’t going to be getting any kisses at all. Clarissa had never been treated so roughly in her life, and she had to rub the ache out of her wrist when Arthur finally released her…

“What do you know about it, Clarissa?”

Clarissa glared down at the floor silently, curling in on herself as she stayed as stubborn as she could… So, Arthur did know about Merlin’s scars. The scars on his wrists that Clarissa had seen all those weeks ago were still fresh and bloody as the wounds tore open before Merlin had gotten all the attention he’d wanted with that little ‘poisoning’ stunt of his. She had assumed he had; what kind of man didn’t know when his own husband was hurting himself? But Clarissa had also hoped he didn’t know. If Arthur hadn’t known what Merlin had been doing to himself, then he would’ve been stunned. Horrified. Disgusted. Only a freak would disfigure themselves like that. Arthur would never want to go near that dratted boy again if he knew how seriously messed up in the head he actually was. And Clarissa wasn’t above using that moment of weakness to worm into Arthur’s good graces…

“Damn it, Clarissa! What the bloody hell do you know about it!”

Clarissa flinched and Arthur’s hand came down, his flat palm hitting against the wall beside them, making a soft boom that went ignored by the loudness of the party going on around them. Clarissa clamped her lips into a thin line as her hands curled into fists… She would have never allowed a man to speak with her that way. But Arthur was looking furious, rage boiling away inside of him as if he were a volcano waiting to spew… He was probably ashamed of Merlin, Lady Clarissa figured. Already ashamed and disgusted by Merlin’s actions, he’d clearly been trying to keep it under wraps as well. Perhaps he was just furious, Clarissa knew, and he hadn’t known it. Furious that Clarissa had this personal kind of information literally at her fingertips, about to do whatever she wanted with it. But…what did she want to do with it?

“Nothing! I don’t know anything about him! I just know that he’s this little boy who plays dress-up when the situation calls for it and then hurts himself in his spare time. That’s all I NEED to know about him. And I don’t think I really want to know anything else. I, for one, am surprised by you, Arthur.” Clarissa said as she tried putting herself on equal footing with the prince and tried making herself assertive. As if she wasn’t the fly Arthur was about to swat into the wall till she could no longer bother anybody else like the gnat she really was. “That you’ve got no shame acting the way you do! Making announcements and trailing him like a lost little puppy. He’s not one of us! No matter how much you try to have him decorated. He’s a peasant, and he hurts himself, and why can’t you simply leave him alone?”

There was a moment… Just a moment… green eyes meeting stormy blue, where Clarissa thought she had finally pushed Arthur over the edge. Arthur's hand… It was clenching and unclenching at his side, as if he wanted to make a grab for her, and not the sexy kind Clarissa had hoped they would be doing. But Arthur didn’t, though Clarissa was sure it wasn’t because he was being merciful with her. Perhaps it was because he knew where they were and knew he could not very well be seen grabbing a woman like he wanted to… Nobody would follow a prince who publicly tormented women for very long. Or perhaps he didn’t go through with it simply because she was a woman… But Clarissa could still feel the way her wrist was burning from where he had grabbed onto her moments before… She probably wouldn’t have survived if Arthur made an attempt at her.

“You’re right.”

Those two simple words had Clarissa coming up short, and she blinked at the prince almost comically. That…was the last thing she had expected. Arthur was void of emotion, it looked like, his face scarily blank considering he’d been full of rage only moments before. But he wasn’t spitting vile words at her, was not having her sent away, was not doing anything she may have expected from a man in power above her after she disrespected them. But…Arthur had said she was right. Clarissa pushed her shoulders back a little, lifting her chin just a little bit higher. Clarissa liked it when people said she was right, but there seems to be something insanely different about ARTHUR admitting she was right. As if Arthur had finally admitted defeat and was going to follow her lead from this day forward…perhaps that was just wishful thinking on her part. But hey, what was a life if one didn’t dream big? She knew better than most that she had to make things happen to get what she wanted. And if she was finally getting the prince to see sense, well…that was a job well done in her book.

“Merlin’s NOT one of us. He is a peasant, and he does hurt himself, and people are going to constantly tell me he’s more trouble than he’s worth. I’ve found out lately that there are dozens of my own people in this kingdom who follow the same vein of thought that you have. That he’s worthless. That he’s not special. Or that he’s going to somehow drag Camelot down despite doing everything to oppose that mindset.” Arthur said, his head bowing down so they could be eye to eye with the other, and Clarissa’s stomach muscles clenched up something fierce. There was a certain…hardness in Arthur’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. A determination, a fire that couldn’t be quenched, this proud gleam of grudging respect. “But you know what… I think I will continue humiliating myself over and over and over again for him. I will punish and end those that cannot come to terms with the new life he will bring into Camelot. And while I might look ‘like a puppy’ following him around, I find I don’t entirely mind that right now. And do you want to know why, Lady Clarissa?”

Arthur’s tone was entirely mocking as he said her title, as if it was something she didn’t deserve to have despite it being her birthright. And Clarissa could feel herself starting to tremble, her stomach muscles clenching even tighter than they had been before…no. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to know why Arthur was content to be seen as a desperate little puppy dog, begging for even a scrap of his master’s attention. Didn’t think she wanted to know just HOW anybody could be willing to debase themselves like that. But she did not have a choice in the matter, though Arthur had asked her if she had wanted to know. Arthur was going to tell her one way or the other, and Clarissa wouldn’t have any other choice but to listen…

“Because he’s my HUSBAND.”

Clarissa hadn’t realized how close Arthur had gotten to her until he breathed that final word out on her face, and all at once it felt like Clarissa had just gotten punched in the gut. Her sticky purple lips fell open as ragged little breaths rushed out of her… She had heard people calling other people out as their husbands before. But never like Arthur had. As if there was some kind of …hidden meaning behind the word. As if ‘husband’ was too little of a word to use, but he didn’t have any other word to put in its place. So he had put all of the emotions behind it into that one word, and Clarissa… Clarissa didn’t know what to make of it. Didn’t know if she wanted to prod more and figure it out for herself or if it was better to just leave this one alone.

“Now, Clarissa… I think I’ve been very generous with you. Even explaining to you that you should no longer approach me, but we can all see how well that worked out, what, with you approaching me anyway. But I’m not too concerned about it right now, not when there are more important things to attend to.” The prince said, straightening back up and giving Clarissa room to breathe. But the lady didn’t know if she wanted room to breathe or if Arthur’s next words would be her damnation. “Like making sure you and I are ABUNDANTLY clear on this topic. So make sure you are listening carefully and clearly, Clarissa. If I hear even a single ‘hint’ of anybody talking about Merlin’s scars, then I’m going to assume it was you that told them. And then I’ll be coming after you. I will rip your head clean off your shoulders and bury you so far beneath the castle that they will not ever find your remains. Do you understand me?”

Was he… For one heart-stopping second, Clarissa had thought the prince had to be joking around with her. There was absolutely no way he would threaten any lady like that; he wouldn’t threaten HER with something so…grotesque. But it only took a single second of gazing into those soul-drowning eyes for Clarissa to start to realize…this was no joke. Arthur was being more serious than a heart attack was, and Clarissa could feel the pounding of her heart and a sliver of fear roll down her spine. She suddenly felt very much like the prey, as if she was some kind of mouse that was only two seconds away from becoming the far larger cat’s dinner. She didn’t know what to say; she didn’t know what to do other than gape at the prince as if she had no idea who he was. And really…perhaps she didn’t know him. Just because Arthur was royal didn’t mean he was the same as any other royal out there was supposed to be. There was something darker in the prince, something she hadn’t seen before, and she didn’t know if it was something she wanted to explore.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!”

Clarissa nearly jumped a mile into the air by the sudden booming of Arthur’s voice, and she nodded meekly, quickly before he got too upset with her once again and decided to make good on his threat. This seemed to satisfy Arthur enough though, as he released a grudging ‘humph’ before leaving her there by herself without another word on the subject. Disappearing into the crowd as if he hadn’t just scared Lady Clarissa within an inch of her life. Arthur seemed to take the heat that had engulfed them away with him, leaving her chilled as all these little goosebumps broke out along her arms. She couldn’t have moved if she had wanted to…not after Arthur’s threat. There was a part of her, a small part of her, that couldn’t relax, that feared he may turn around and decide he wanted to end her after all. Drag her off into the night and do away with her as everybody else danced and partied their troubles away without a single care in the world…

It wasn’t very princely-like.

But Clarissa knew what she had seen in those eyes.

Arthur Pendragon was not a man to make idle threats, and Clarissa had gotten herself on his radar in a way that she didn’t want to be. She would be forced to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder, hiring a dozen guards just to protect her if he came after her, hiding away somewhere remote where she was never going to be around decent people again. And Arthur would probably find her anyway and make good on his word if she continued down the path she’s been going. What had she been thinking…trying to seduce a man that had the skills to kill a human while hardly lifting a finger? He didn’t even need to be in her vicinity; he could very well pay somebody to do it for him and leave Arthur to come up with the perfect alibi… Clarissa suddenly didn’t feel very safe in the room. There were too many people, and possibly many that had Arthur’s hand in their pockets. Many who would probably do whatever Arthur said with nary a question about it…

“M’lady?”

Clarissa flinched violently, whipping around as if an assailant ordered by the prince had just come after her when she’d been distracted. But the young boy standing in front of her didn’t look as if he was an assailant or assassin at all…he looked like nothing. He was just a simple serving boy, one that needed a far better haircut if he wanted to distract people from seeing the awful peasant clothing he wore. This boy was somebody Clarissa would’ve had no problems making fun of with her three friends that had ditched her, somebody she knew she would have ordered to do the most ridiculous of things just to please her if he didn’t want his lackluster service to be reported straight back to his master who had lent him out for the evening. But Arthur’s threat still hung heavy over her, like a demented shroud that wanted to keep her covered up until nothing else remained. She didn’t have time to be dealing with the servants; she had to pretend everything was normal. As if she were still on top, instead of being put on the bottom of the social chain by Arthur’s forceful hand.

Clarissa cleared her throat, stuck her nose in the air as if she had just smelt a foul object that needed to be out of her sight, and ran a hand down the front of her skirts as if she was smoothing out invisible wrinkles. Clarissa didn’t pay the nose-serving boy any mind as she reached into the pocket carefully hidden in the folds of her dress and pulled out her purple fan, identical to the fans that her three old friends had. And she flipped it open with the ease of somebody who had done it since the day they were born, waving it to feel a nice wind on her flustered cheeks, as if that small breeze would feel good against the heat of her face. It only made her face feel more sticky with her stricken terror, but she didn’t show that on her face, ever presenting herself as the proper woman she was supposed to be. Clarissa walked past the servant without one look in his direction, ready to get out of here and return to her home for the evening…while she still could. She only got a few feet away, though, before the serving boy called out after her by name instead of title.

“Clarissa!”

Clarissa immediately felt her withering self-control starting to fray until it was pulled so taut she didn’t know how she hadn’t spun around and slapped him for his impudence. How dare this…this…this little slug!! Address a lady with no formality! How dare he speak to her as if they were, god forbid, FRIENDS! She might not have as much power as she thought she did, but she was still a lady. And no little toad was going to forget that; no little toad was going to call her name as if they were…EQUALS!  Clarissa was so wrung out from her little ‘talk’ with Arthur that she would have actually slapped him and caused what had to be the ‘worst scene’ in Camelot history if the servant boy hadn’t taken that moment to speak up.

“I noticed that you were having some problems with Prince Arthur. And I could not help but overhear that much of it was centered around Consort Merlin. I’m correct, aren’t I? I didn’t mishear or misunderstand something, right? I’m sure I didn’t, but you never know when you walk into a conversation that you hadn’t been invited in.” The servant said, as if he spent every day of his life speaking to ladies as if he had even a CHANCE to be with them in anything other than a servant capacity. Clarissa pursed her lips… She didn’t know why she had yet to start screaming at him. the disgusting little worm that he was. She had already gotten chewed out by Arthur, so she was liable to smack the servant along his face if he was here in some…misguided attempt to defend the consort. All the servants…such fickle little creatures that they were. So eager to start pleasing the total nobody that was Consort Merlin Pendragon. “Consort Merlin…there is honestly something really wrong with him. The way he’s got the prince tangled around his little finger…it’s almost like he put some kind of spell of some sort on Arthur! It wouldn’t really be a shame if something happened to get Consort Merlin out of the picture…don’t you think? Or am I barking up the wrong tree here?”

Clarissa had already opened her mouth to give the irritating worm a piece of her mind, verbally ripping him apart until there was nothing left for him to try clinging onto. But she stopped before the first sound could leave her lips, the words of the servants circling around her until it was the only thing she could hear…perhaps this servant wasn’t such a big fan of Consort Merlin as she had originally thought. There weren’t many people brave enough to say their point of view against a royal in front of another noble. Not when that same noble is just as likely to run to the prince himself and spill everything. There had been servants who were arrested for far less than just stating their point… But even a simpleton servant would know how fatal a mistake this could be if Clarissa did that. So why in the world would anybody make such a foolish mistake…

“I’m sorry, I see that I’ve caught you off guard here. Perhaps I should’ve begun with an introduction first. My name is Morris, and I was once a manservant to Prince Arthur. Before Consort Merlin came into his life and ruined it for me. But anyway, if you would be willing to follow me… I think we’ve got a few things that we can talk about, don’t you?” Morris gestured towards one of the many side halls that led out of the grand hall, clearly waiting for her to go forward. And it was probably a bad idea; her reputation would be even lower than it was right now. People would assume she actually ‘wanted’ to be around such a low-class boy if they caught her leaving with him, but… Clarissa couldn’t say she was not intrigued.

And so she walked.

X

Arthur Pendragon was very agitated, his threat to Clarissa ringing in his mind as if it were on a never-ending loop… He hadn’t been joking in the least. It would only be so easy for Arthur to grab Clarissa by those stupid blond locks of hers and rip them clean off her shoulders. And perhaps this should scare him…with such a strong and violent streak tainting his soul. Clarissa wasn’t like all of the others that had gotten in his way in one way or the other… Valiant and all of the knights are currently being punished for their treatment of Merlin. Clarissa was an actual lady, but…she was no Lady, as far as Arthur was concerned. The bloody bitch had honestly thought Arthur would just walk off with her, abandon Merlin for the evening for a night he wouldn’t want to remember. For a night he knew would be as unremarkable as the last. He had said it once; he would say it over and over again if he had to…

What a bloody bitch!

Arthur could feel a vein in the side of his forehead starting to throb, perhaps dangerously so, just remembering the wanton way Clarissa had tried against him! Arthur wasn’t that kind of man! He wasn’t the kind of man who could be tempted into having…not even second best, when he could claim the prize he knew would be waiting for him! Merlin… Merlin, who would, very much, accuse Arthur of cheating on him again if he had actually been stupid enough to take up her offer of a simple dance. As if she wasn’t planning on using that dance to talk him into joining her in one of the many private suites decorating all over the castle. Say what you want about Arthur, but at least he knew enough to learn from his past mistakes. There was no chance in HELL he would’ve gone anywhere with Clarissa! Not to the dance floor, not to her chambers, not even to shake her damn bloody hand. 

What little respect Arthur may have carried for her as a fellow noble had been lost to the winds of time.

The way she had tried telling Arthur about Merlin’s…mutilating himself.

Arthur glared at the ground so harshly, hardly noticing the way he was pushing past people, that his face could’ve gotten stuck like that. His hand curled into a tight fist down at his side…who the hell had she thought she was? Divulging such a personal secret of Merlin’s as if it was hers to do so…he should’ve gone and wrung her bloody neck while he was at it. Yes. His Merlin had hurt himself at one point, but it had been none of Clarissa’s bloody business! Arthur’s been aware of the problem and working on it the best way he could…by chancing a glimpse whenever he could just to make sure none of the scars looked fresh or new. For the time being though, it seemed as if Merlin’s habit had been put to a rest, or a standstill… He very much wished he could say it had been put to a stop altogether. But he wasn’t that naive either…

She had called him a freak…

She had looked disgusted…

Arthur breathed as best as he could with the raging burn sliding throughout his veins, god! He wanted to turn back around right now and finish what he’s started. Even if Clarissa had finally gotten the message and was going to leave them well enough alone, he still wanted to make her bleed. Maybe that bloody woman wouldn’t have been so quick to judge if she had a few scars matching Merlin’s. Merlin’s scars spoke about hardship! About how much he struggled in the past days…struggled because of Arthur. And that had healed over, turning into light indentations in his flesh…showing Arthur that Merlin was one hell of a survivor! Arthur would do anything to erase the marks he had left behind with Merlin, his stomach churning with guilt and pain every time he thought about them, but…they were also badges of honor. Badges of strength! Horrid scars that showed Arthur how much…better than him, Merlin was.

Any scars left behind on Clarissa would only show how much of a tramp she’d been behaving….

Arthur Pendragon finally stopped walking when he reached the table he knew Merlin had been standing at, but one single glance around showed him that it was no longer the case. Arthur’s jaw went rigid, looking back and forth as if he was just going to pop out of the woodwork and demand to know what Arthur’d been thinking by his earlier speech to the crowd. But Merlin wasn’t there, and Arthur’s heart clenched the same as he clenched his hand around the stupid goblet he had taken from Clarissa… He hunched his shoulders up towards his ears and stared unseeingly down at the white tablecloth covering the length of the food table. Maybe that stupid bitch had been right…maybe Arthur really is stupid for taking his matters in front of the entire hall. And now Merlin left him here to stand like a fool, spiriting himself away to wherever he would go when he was escaping a party he hadn’t wanted to be at in the first place.

Not even Morgana, Gwen, or Lancelot was still standing there, as if they had all decided to flee the second they saw Arthur standing too close for comfort. Merlin was hiding from him, and Morgana was god-knows-where and talking to god-knows-who, while his heart was being trampled on by a million stampede of horses. And Gwen and Lancelot were probably making their courtship more official as Lancelot led her off into the night. Arthur blinked, feeling emotional as he stared down at the goblet in his hand, his hand going so tight around the cup that it could’ve cut into his fingers. His hand was starting to shake, which caused the wine to swish towards the lip of the cup but never actually ended up over it. He had a stupid, bloody cup and nobody to bloody well give it to… The only reason he had taken the cup from Clarissa was because of Lancelot!

When Arthur had been busy with Clarissa, he had managed to catch sight of the four friends from across the hall… Only a few people standing in between them had parted to give Arthur the view, but he liked to think of it as the fates aligning in his favor for once. And what he had seen…fuck…he really was such a stupid man. So what if Arthur had seen Lancelot handing over a similar cup to Guinevere, bowing himself down with a sheepish flourish as if he was giving her the key to Camelot’s sacred vaults? So what if Arthur had seen, even from across the way, how Gwen had blushed and done a playful little curtsy towards him before taking the cup? Clearly as enamored with Lancelot as he was with her. And so what if, when Clarissa had been talking his ear off, Arthur had gotten stuck with the lingering question inside his skull…would Merlin react the same for him if he gave him a goblet with the best wine Camelot had to offer inside of it?

Perhaps he didn’t deserve an answer.

He should just cut his losses and leave himself before anything else happens to cap off such a ‘wonderful’ night this has been so far…

But perhaps his night was about to get better…

X

Arthur Pendragon stopped walking, mere feet away from the front doors, his body stalling as if he could hardly believe his eyes. He had literally been ‘this’ close to walking out the doors. Had been ‘this close’ to leaving behind this dreadful place and not looking back for even a minute. He could have gone left instead of right, could have gone out one of the side halls and disappeared without even a trace of himself instead of going out the front door where anybody could see his own personal ‘walk of shame.’ And yet, he had not. The fates had started to align themselves in his favor, and while Arthur had never really been much of a believer in things he couldn’t see, he was willing to trust the fates this one and only time.

He would’ve never come across Merlin otherwise.

As it turned out, Merlin had not left the party like Arthur had assumed. Merlin had simply taken cover elsewhere, now that he was left on his own without any of his friends to accompany him, which Arthur thought was quite silly. To think Merlin’s friends had opted to leave him alone, sitting on a bench situated next to the door as if they didn’t always hover over him like the most overprotective hawks he had ever seen in his life. Well… Arthur supposed perhaps Gwen and Lancelot had decent reasons, too, too busy staring into each other’s eyes so they can giggle about nothing with the other. But what was Morgana’s excuse? The prince couldn’t think of a single reason that would have been more interesting than keeping Merlin company.

And what company Merlin would make…

Arthur’s mouth felt as if it was suddenly dry, almost overcome with the urge to drink Merlin’s cup himself just to get some moisture back into his mouth. It did not seem as if Merlin needed this particular wine; he had clearly gotten his own hands on his own cup. Merlin had his head tilted back against the wall, so far back it was a true miracle that Arthur hadn’t simply walked past him without noticing it was him. The silver goblet was resting against the curve of his lips in a way that Arthur couldn’t quite see from the angle he was standing at. But he could very damn well see the way Merlin’s throat was convulsing, taking sip after sip from the cup. His Adam's apple bobbed each time Merlin swallowed, leaving the man almost mesmerized by what he was seeing.

Fuck…

Merlin…

How did he make even drinking look good?

And a better question…why hadn’t Arthur gone over there yet? Why hasn’t he just walked up to Merlin and started a conversation with him? Why hadn’t the prince taken the chance being presented to him and spoken to Merlin while he was alone? Ah… Arthur remembered exactly why he didn’t as Merlin lowered his goblet from his lips. He remembered as Merlin stared morosely into the empty cup. And he remembered as Merlin slowly licked his tongue along the upper lip of his. A slick muscle that left a glimmering layer above his lip; the lip itself just turned a slightly darker shade of red that made Arthur’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

Ah…right.

Arthur was scared.

He was bloody scared shitless.

Arthur still had Clarissa’s words running through his mind, warning him that his consort was going to hate him for putting him on the spot like he had. And the prince had Merlin sitting right in front of him, innocent about his surroundings as if Arthur wasn’t a very real danger to him. And Arthur had faced bandits and traitors and knights and even magic itself, and yet…one boy had been the only thing to bring him down to his knees. One boy, so pure and untouched by their world, that Arthur wanted to wrap him up in the cloak of his and make sure the consort never got the chance to see the ugliness that rested in the souls of his people.

But Merlin had already seen the ugliness, hadn’t he?

Because Arthur had been the ugliest of them all.

Arthur forced himself to take a steadying breath, one of calm indecision, when he realized he couldn’t spend the next few hours just gazing at Merlin as if the other boy would never realize he was there. His legs felt like they were forced down with lead, weighing him to the ground like an anchor that wanted to keep him anchored when salvation was right THERE. He stopped only when he got to Merlin’s side, staring down at the back of his dark head, oh…god!! Was the consort pouting? Was Merlin honestly, to god, pouting! Jutting his lower lip out as if his empty cup was the saddest thing in the entire world he had seen in all his life. God. Arthur closed his hand tighter around the cup, resisting the urge to reach out and pinch that plush lip between his fingers. If Merlin was going to stick it out, then shouldn’t Arthur do something to show him what a really bad idea that was?

People might…get thoughts…if Merlin was going about with his lower lip out on display like that. 

“… Can I sit here?”

Arthur barely heard the words when they left his lips, immediately feeling as if a toad had just wedged itself down his throat… Can I sit here? He had honestly said, ‘Can I sit here!’ as if Merlin wouldn’t have any problems with saying ‘yes’ to him. Arthur should’ve just sat down before Merlin had the chance to storm off on him! But…Arthur never really did give Merlin choices. He usually just did what he wanted and took what he wanted, even at the price of Merlin. So…him letting Merlin make the decision was a good thing, right? It gave Merlin some control, the control Arthur had been trying to command everyday for the last four months or so before admitting defeat. Even if it left Arthur once again on his own, holding a goblet his pouty consort would never touch.

But Merlin didn’t lift his head for the longest of moments.

For so long, Arthur had honestly thought maybe Merlin hadn’t heard him at all. Which he could see was a good thing! If Merlin hadn’t heard him, it gave Arthur the chance to try this once again. And hopefully come up with a better version of ‘Can I sit here?’ Because every word and every syllable counted. One wrong sound could have Merlin running for the hills. Just as any right sound could have Merlin actually…agreeing…with letting him sit there. But while the prince was contemplating what his next attempt should be, Merlin finally lifted up his head. Looking as if his head weighed too much for his neck to lift back up, Arthur frowned.

There was something wrong with Merlin’s eye…

Were the blues in them wider than they usually were? 

Or was he imagining that because of how desperately he had been wanting to see Merlin?

“Surrre.” Merlin finally said, his voice coming out thick and his country accent coming out to play, hitting Arthur in all the right spots, a warm shiver caressing Arthur’s spine with the same attention to detail he imagined Merlin’s long and thin fingers would have. But Merlin had said ‘sure’! And that was all the blond prince needed to hear, his entire face lighting up as if Merlin had just handed him the holy grail. He was so elated, he barely even took note of the slur that had accompanied Merlin’s words, the drawl that would’ve warned Arthur that Merlin was far out of his reach right about now. If not physically, then he most definitely was mentally. “It’s not as if you aren’t going to do it anyway. So why don’t you save us both the trouble and not bother asking as if you care about the answer either way and aren’t just going to do whatever makes the bloody prince happy!”

Arthur paused, his bottom a mere inches away from making contact with the bench itself, his head whipping around to look at Merlin pitifully. Realizing he had been tricked into falsely believing Merlin wasn’t as angry with him as the bitch-who-shall-not-be-named. Merlin wasn’t even looking at him—still—and he lifted his empty goblet to his lip to try and drink generously from the cup. That should have been Arthur’s first clue, when Merlin lowered his cup to pout just a bit more, as if he had somehow forgotten his goblet was now dry in the last few seconds. But Arthur didn’t notice, too caught up in his own pitiful spiral as if it was more important than Merlin’s well-being. Too caught up in feeling…sad for himself, rather than focusing on what Merlin would truly need from him a bit later that night.

“I won’t sit down if you don’t want me to.”

Arthur straightened back up so he wasn’t just hovering there in suspended animation. It practically killed him to do so, but whatever small, fleeting hope Merlin’s ‘sure’ had given him had already fled him. Leaving Arthur to feel as if he was almost a numb and broken shell of a man. Maybe the bitch-who-should-not-be-named was actually right. And maybe Arthur was more stupid than stupid. Maybe he should’ve just done what Merlin wanted and left him alone instead of chasing after him if it always ended up like this. Maybe if Arthur had…fuck. Maybe if Arthur had done a lot of things, he wouldn’t be in this mess now.

“Then I don’t want you to.”

Merlin sounded petulant, almost ridiculously so, and exaggeratedly pouted his lips out as he whipped his head away from Arthur so he would have to look at him. Arthur furrowed his brows into the center of his forehead…he was pretty sure Merlin didn’t ‘usually’ sound so childlike. Having purity didn’t mean that he actually WAS a child. It just made him…innocent. And Merlin had returned to pouting down at his goblet as if he was trying to will the cup to fill itself up with more wine. It was, dare Arthur even think it…adorable. The way that the consort was glaring into his cup at the little droplets of purple that remained inside, concentrating as hard as his sweet brain could, only to pout some more when he realized he didn’t have some kind of…magical power that would allow his goblet to fill itself back up again. But… Arthur had a goblet. One that hadn’t been touched and defiled by either him or Clarissa. A cup that Merlin wouldn’t have to spend an entire night staring into in submission as if it would melt under the heat of his gaze.

“I brought you this!” Arthur nearly shouted as he shoved the goblet in Merlin’s direction…fuck. He really was a fool, he noted as some of the liquid flipped just over the lip of the cup and wetted his fingers. But he couldn’t stand watching that cute little pout, couldn’t stand standing here and feeling lost when there was at least this ONE thing he could give him. But it was all going to be worth it, he decided, when he saw Merlin eyeing the goblet… Maybe it was just all the lights playing tricks on him, but Merlin almost looked…greedy. His eyes lighting up on the cup in Arthur’s hand as if Arthur had just handed Merlin his greatest treasure. Which was silly! MERLIN was Arthur’s greatest treasure, and clearly Arthur wasn’t going to hand Merlin over to Merlin. And this…was a really lame string of thoughts, he noted as Merlin’s eyes tracked the goblet in his hands the same way a cat might track down a mouse. “You were standing for a really long time during Lancelot’s celebrations, and I know that it must’ve left you a bit perched. I know I certainly wanted a drink or two when I was standing right there, ha. A good drink is always appreciated after these types of things. And you’re done with the one you have, so please, take this one.”

Arthur had barely finished his sentence before Merlin was abandoning the cup he had on the bench beside his thigh and snatching up the cup in his hand. It was there one second and gone the next. Leaving his hand grasping at only a hint of air and blinking confused. But Merlin didn’t seem to notice the way the prince was analyzing him, taking in the red flush of Merlin’s cheeks, or how he gulped down his new cup as if it was water, or how his Adam’s apple had gone and started bobbing up and down up and down again and again. All it took was a blink, Arthur eyeing Merlin’s flawless and unblemished and untouched throat that could make a man move mountains if he got the chance to bury his head in the crook of his neck, and then Arthur was collapsing on the bench without Merlin’s permission. Too stunned to even think about asking again, his mouth opened and closed in dumb shock as Merlin removed the goblet from his lips with a breathy gasp. 

Merlin was drunk.

Merlin was fucking drunk.

His sweet and innocent, pure and virginal, and so ripe for the picking consort had gone and gotten himself drunk. Not completely drunk, it seemed, as the consort still seemed to have a pretty good handle on himself. He was sitting upright, not tipping sideways as if the world were spinning around him like it would be if he had drunken too much. But it explained other things, the way he pouted and the way he barely noted Arthur’s presence until he made him and the way Merlin hadn’t said anything about him sitting here. Hell, Merlin’s gone back to pouting at his now empty cup as if it had personally insulted him to high heaven. He probably didn’t even realize Arthur was still sitting here or was probably content to ignore his presence as long as Arthur kept supplying him with drink. 

Arthur never would have given Merlin that cup if he had known Merlin was well on his way to getting himself into a situation that he couldn’t get himself out of as easily as he had gotten himself out of other situations. Or… Arthur stopped as he watched Merlin stick a finger into his goblet and wipe up the few smaller droplets clinging to the inside of it. And then the bloody boy stuck his finger in his mouth to lick off the juices as if it was a fucking sweet dessert instead of a burning bubble going down your gullet. And Merlin didn’t just stick the tip into his mouth; he practically shoved the entire thing down his throat. Wrapping his lips around the long digit all the way down to the base, clearly swirling the pink muscle that was his tongue around the thing. Making sure not even one single drop would be wasted.
 
Arthur was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing; his breath was caught in a little bubble in his throat that threatened to drown him if it burst. His eyes didn’t leave that slick digit and where it was connected to Merlin’s wine-colored lips and where Merlin’s cheeks went hollow as he sucked… Arthur felt really warm suddenly. It was as if he had gotten a fever in the span of a second, his body boiling from the inside out… What the fuck was wrong with him? Where the bloody hell had his pure, innocent, virginal Merlin learned how to suck…anything! …like that! This was bloody obscene, that was! And while Arthur would’ve flown completely off the handle just earlier today, thinking Merlin was showing off what he did with his ‘lovers,’ he knew better now.

Merlin was being obscene.

He was innocent and pure and fucking GOOD.

And he was drunk.

“WHAT!”

Arthur jumped from the sudden rage in Merlin’s voice, the darker-haired boy whipping his head around to glare at him. Arthur blinked rapidly… He was used to Merlin having spurts of violence towards him, all very well-deserved spurts of violence. It usually terrified him, because everything he said always ended up twisted, and he never learned that it was better to give up than make things worse by trying. But Merlin’s face was still flushed, not with anger but with this drunken stupor and… Arthur wasn’t as terrified. Merlin looked as terrifying as a newborn puppy did, teetering on the edge of his seat as if he was about to go sliding right off the edge and land on his bottom on a heap on the ground.

Which brought Arthur to a question…

Should he really be here while Merlin was drunk? 

Arthur knew what to expect, kinda, when he was dealing with a Merlin that was fully in control of himself. He knew what to expect when Merlin was pissed and what to expect when Merlin wanted to throw stuff at him. But drunk Merlin was something completely unknown to him, some foreign entity that he never ever thought he would come in contact with. And Merlin was…innocent, pure, and so good…had he ever gotten drunk before? It didn’t look as if he had, if just a single goblet or two could make Merlin as bad as he was. Arthur bit down on the inside of his cheek and darted his eyes all around the room; he was hoping Morgana would come back. Maybe she had stepped away to be Merlin’s wine supplier, and she would be back any minute, and she would know what to do with a Merlin that was now swinging his legs back and forth under the bench as if he was a child and his legs were too small to reach the floor. A comical scene, considering how long Merlin’s legs actually were.

But Morgana didn’t show up.

And Arthur couldn’t very well leave Merlin sitting here in this state while he went searching her out, because surely Morgana would know what to do with this situation. Far better than Arthur, who had made Merlin even more drunk…oh, god, did that mean he had somehow ‘taken advantage’ of Merlin, who he knew would never take a drink from his hand if he hadn’t already been a good bit drunk to begin with? Good god, Merlin couldn’t be left alone, and he’ll most likely kill Arthur once he gets over the killer hangover he was sure to have, and exactly how many other people knew Merlin wasn’t exactly in his right state of mind at the moment? Arthur glanced over the crowd of people to see if there’s anybody who was paying…special attention…to his consort’s floundering state of being. Anybody who would see a beautiful drunken boy who could barely lift his head and decide to ‘actually’ take advantage of him…

Fuck.

Forget Merlin killing him after his hangover cleared.

Merlin was going to kill him right now with how much stress he was giving him.

“…You probably shouldn’t be drinking so much. It’s not good for you; you will probably get sick really bad. Maybe you’ll even throw up. Do you feel dizzy at all right now? Because that’s a sign that you’ve drunk too much. Perhaps if you’re still thirsty, you can have something else that isn’t alcoholic.” Said the prince, feeling as if he was giving a lecture, one much softer and with more rambles than the one his father had given him the first time he had ever gotten drunk. A prince needed to be aware of himself at all times or leave himself open to attack or betrayal. If Merlin wanted to get incapacitated like this, then it needed to be somewhere more secure than an open room full of people they both knew and didn’t know. Familiar faces and strangers alike. Perhaps the prince’s chambers would be a good place, where Arthur could watch him in relative privacy. “Would you like some water? It’ll flush out some of what’s in your system already. And perhaps a thing of bread? I hear that it soaks up the alcohol, so you won’t be feeling it as much.”

Arthur didn’t wait for an answer before he was already looking around with his hand half-raised, trying to flag down one of the servants who could fetch him what he wanted. But looking around the room, Arthur couldn’t actually see any of the servants near him, which made him frown heavily. He was a prince, and he couldn’t even get his hands on some damn bread and water so his consort wouldn’t get sick from how much he had drunk. It was stupid and was hardly his fault, considering the servants should have been at his beck and call at just a moment’s notice, but it made Arthur feel completely useless. He had literally, verbally, ripped Clarissa to shreds by claiming Merlin as HIS husband. And this failure only proved to Arthur how pitiful a job he was doing at providing for the boy, where even his most basic needs weren’t being met like they should’ve been.

“And you should really mind your own damn business.”

Arthur flinched at the scoff in Merlin’s tone, his hand still half up and hanging there uselessly before he finally settled it back down along his leg. But Merlin acted as if he hadn’t said anything, already looking down at the sharp toes of his new boots as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. Arthur’s lips thinned, and he dug his fingertips into the skin above his knee… He could not help Merlin if he didn’t want to be helped. But he couldn’t sit here like he was some kind of chump. He needed to do something for Merlin, something he would accept for once. What Arthur really wanted was to know what might be going on in Merlin’s head; the way he was staring at his boots told of unbidden fascination. And they were just ordinary boots! Something Arthur could have worn if he felt like it. But was Merlin seeing something different? Was that drunken mind of his seeing something different? Were there swirls of colors that Merlin had never seen before? Maybe it was a mixture of blues and greens and pink… or something else completely. What was Merlin going to be like now that he’s drunk? Was he going to be an angry drunk, being more belligerent and more violent towards Arthur than he’s ever been? Or was he more of a sad kind of drunk that would leave Arthur forced to take care of him…how was he going to handle Merlin if he started crying right there and now? Or maybe he would be a happy drunk…singing about the unimaginable colors he was seeing that not another soul could.

These were all very important questions.

And, of course, Arthur asked Merlin the stupidest thing to pop into his mind.

“Are you cold?”

Arthur remembered the first time he had gotten drunk, waking up on the edge of a river half naked, with his father and a platoon of men whom he was meant to lead someday standing right behind him. He still didn’t remember where he’d taken his clothes off or why he had decided that would be a good night to try and go swimming. But he knew that it had been freezing, the weather starting its first days of winter…he had been lucky they lived in a relatively warm kind of climate, or he could’ve gotten frostbite and lost a few toes. And yes, Arthur knew their circumstances were completely different. For one, Merlin wasn’t in the middle of a river slowly turning blue and waiting for somebody to come so they could fish him out. But perhaps he was still cold all the same; now that he had latched onto the thought, it seemed imperative for Arthur to make sure his consort wasn’t suffering. 

He could remember…last month, when Merlin had joined him just before they went into the banquet, how he had wanted to wrap Merlin up in his coat. The thought had seemed like a good idea at the time, though he hadn’t actually done it because Merlin had been walking around in that silk little thing that had Arthur all twisted around himself. Baring his neck and his collarbones as if he was showing himself off to everybody else…Arthur’s coat would’ve covered him up. Give him more modesty. And then… Merlin’s poisoning had happened, and amongst Arthur’s panicking mind, he had briefly mourned the fact that he hadn’t just taken off his coat and wrapped it around Merlin. That he may never get the chance to see what Merlin looked like wearing something that would’ve been undeniably Arthur’s. Maybe now would be the chance for him to see, but when Arthur reached for his jacket, he had a heart-shattering realization…

He wasn’t wearing one.

Tonight had been a relatively warm night, and Arthur had been content to only wear the red overtop that came with his armor. And the evening had only made the prince hotter… Merlin made him feel like he had a blistering fever that was not going to go away anytime soon. Merlin made him sweat in places he didn’t even know could sweat…there was just something about knowing how Merlin’s been… unclaimed…that made him feel like a beast had been awakened in his chest. And the beast needed to be fed. But Arthur couldn’t touch Merlin; even drunk, the boy would never allow Arthur to prod at his skin. Just to see if there were any goosebumps that might follow the trail of Arthur’s fingertips on soft, untouched skin. Would Merlin shiver if Arthur touched him? Would he be really sensitive if Arthur even so much as bumped shoulders with him? Arthur could already feel the hair on his arms and the back of his neck start standing up as an electrical charge surged through him, some kind of secret call warning him his consort was entirely too close on this stupidly small bench. Did Merlin feel the same charge in the air, or was it just him…it was probably just him. Arthur, the freak. Freaking out about his strange dreams one minute and then letting Merlin’s scent drown him the next…

“Are you stupid?”

Arthur was jolted back to where he was, blinking rapidly as he registered the consort’s words. It took him entirely too long, his brain sluggish as if he was the one that was drunk instead, to remember what he had asked Merlin. And it took even longer for Arthur to register the way Merlin was tugging loosely on his cape…oh. Arthur felt the blood rising to his face with embarrassment. That’s right. Merlin didn’t need a bloody coat, especially not a non-existent one from Arthur, since he was covered head to toe. He wasn’t dressed like he was at that last party. His clothes were thick and dark and most definitely warmer than the clothes Arthur was wearing now. Of course he would turn down a jacket. Such a thing would look stupid trying to fit it over the cloak Merlin wore. The two of them lapsed into an awkward silence after that, where Arthur moved his leg up and down in an anxious fashion, trying to come up with something else to say, while Merlin went back to his bloody boots, which wouldn’t make him feel like a laughingstock. 

Perhaps now would be the time to ask Merlin about, well…everything. About the real truths behind the rumors, how Merlin had felt—all the raw, gritty details that would make Arthur want to cry right alongside him—when Arthur had gone and rejected him publicly. How he had dealt with the false accusations, what it would take to earn even a fraction of Merlin’s forgiveness, ask him why he had not proven to Arthur he was a virgin, and this whole thing could’ve been put to rest ages ago. But then again… How many times had Merlin claimed the rumors were false, even if he had thought they were talking about something as simple as dating? Besides, Arthur thought ruefully, how would Merlin have been able to prove he was a virgin? It’s not like he was going to yank his pants down before bending himself over and instructing Arthur to stick a few fingers inside of him just to check if there was any resistance. The kind that could only come from a bottom that had never been penetrated before…

Merlin was probably as sensitive as he had been in his dreams, releasing loud moans that could draw the wrong kind of attention from anybody close enough to overhear…

“Would you like some food? There are plenty of great suggestions laid out along the tables! Have you tried the smoked ham yet? I don’t know if you can get any boar where you come from, but it’s great! And definitely something that should be tried if you haven’t! Especially when it’s drizzled in honey! Or would that be too much on your stomach still? I know Gaius told me once that you cannot eat rich foods because of your eating problems, so if that’s still a problem, maybe it would be better for you to have something light. Something that you already know won’t upset your stomach. Especially considering you’re drunk.” Said the blond prince in a rush, nearly jumping to his feet in order to put some kind of breathing room between the two of them. Help Arthur clear his head just a tiny bit… How sensitive were virgins? They’d never been touched before, so would it feel as if the softest of caresses was lighting a wildfire inside of them? Or was that just Arthur’s overactive imagination kicking into overdrive once again? “A few bowls of apples might be left so I could snag a few of those; I know you’ll eat that, considering you threw one you were snacking on at me. Or maybe it’s time for something different… You aren’t allergic to anything, are you? I refuse to give you something simply to watch you kneel over and die… Perhaps grapes would be a good choice. You like those, and you aren’t allergic to them…”

Arthur didn’t realize until just now that he knew Merlin liked grapes, but that bit of knowledge had always been there in the back of his mind. Something he must’ve subconsciously picked up on because of all the times he had talked to Merlin and found a bowl of grapes lingering nearby. Like the bowl he had been eating out on the day they had been married, probably the first food his lovely consort had gotten his hands on as a married man. And the time Arthur walked up to him after Valiant’s defeat, wanting to apologize for not believing him that first time, and caught Merlin chowing down on grapes. It almost felt…good…to know he wasn’t completely ignorant on Merlin and the things he liked and the things he enjoyed. Even if it was something as simple as food. But Arthur DID need to know if Merlin was allergic to something so the prince could keep a more careful vigilance over what he was putting into his body. What if Arthur had managed to flag down a servant and ordered him to bring Merlin some of the bread, and it turned out to be the bread with nuts baked into it, and Merlin ended up being allergic to nuts! Merlin could’ve dropped from something that came from Arthur’s hand…

Arthur was eyeing the table closest to them, the one that had been dedicated to fruits and vegetables, before Merlin spoke to him. Trying to figure out if he could chance the risk of going to the table himself and dishing Merlin up one of the plates…make sure he wasn’t starving himself since he’d be tricked into thinking his belly was full from the warmth of the alcohol lingering inside his veins. The table really wasn’t that far away, and Arthur would be close enough to keep an eye on Merlin, just to make sure he wouldn’t wander off in his drunk state and get himself hurt. The brief break could be good for both of them, and Arthur could work out how he was going to word himself whenever he got around to talking to Merlin about his…maidenhood? Maidenhood was probably not the right word; Merlin was undeniably male after all. But it’s not as if Arthur could have thought ‘manhood.’ Manhood didn’t have the same ring as the first one did. Plus…manhood made Arthur think of Merlin’s, well…his manhood. And the manhood that had popped in front of his face when he had dreamed of the way he had kissed down Merlin’s pale and beautiful body…

Fuck!

Arthur was a damn hunter! He caught food and brought it back to the castle to be cooked and used often enough. And that was probably the easiest of the things he could do. He could damn well dish up Merlin a plate of food and keep eyes on him without losing concentration. He needed to provide for Merlin without being caught in his dreamland. And he needed to speak to Merlin about some things that had gone unspoken between them for so long. And he couldn’t do that if his head was as foggy as a drunken Merlin’s was! Couldn’t do anything if he didn’t get himself under some manner of control…

“Really? Grapes! Is that some kind of crack about how I dumped that bowl of grapes all over the floor the day we married! Because I swear to you now, that was entirely your fault, Arthur Pendragon. Because I was doing just fine on my own before you interrupted me trying to eat!” Merlin was suddenly focused on him, eyes sharper than they were, not cloudy from the alcohol but still a bit hazy, as he referenced the huge disaster scene he had made the day they had married. Arthur had almost completely forgotten about that and about how mad he had been at Merlin’s antics. Such simpler times they had been, when their worst embarrassments had been the sound of a bowl smashing along the floor as Merlin failed to catch it with his clumsy fingers. “I don’t know what game it is you are playing at, but I don’t want anything to do with it! I refuse to accept a single thing if it’s you handing it to me! So just fuck off!”

Ah, Arthur realized, as one of his earlier questions was finally answered… His consort was a belligerent drunk then.