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Arthur sat again and tried to concentrate on the scrolls long-cluttering his desk. Planting plans for the new spring season. Mundane reading. The documents could not hold his attention. Not like Merlin continued to hold his thoughts. Arthur constantly peered up at him. His manservant moved about while busily tidying his chambers.
A servant, who challenged a king. Arthur still found it inconceivable. He found it downright disturbing, since the king was his father. He found it an absolute obsession, to think that Merlin could make a king stop a witch burning. Especially, since the king was Uther Pendragon, who absolutely loathed magic.
Merlin was complicated, Arthur granted him that as he continued to peer up at him. Far from the idiot that he pretended, Merlin tripped over his own feet one moment, but the next moment he fought bandits, dragons, monsters and sorcerers with him. Now, Merlin had battled a king to save a child. His battle lost, Merlin's self-inflicted sexual punishment attested to his intricate character, Arthur thought as he continued to peer.
On the surface, Merlin seemed back to normal but for a servant that was abnormal in itself. His insolent retorts, unsolicited advice and cheeky grin slowly had returned. His sexual appetite now seemed healthier than ever. Beneath the surface, however, where few others had privy to tread, Arthur readily could see it. A ghostly, haunting sadness lurked hidden in the shadows just behind an added mischief in Merlin’s now evasive eyes. Intricate, indeed, Arthur thought…
“Arthur," he spoke while gazing at his desk but never noticed that Arthur peered up at him. "The milk thistles are blooming and the wheatgrass is seeding. If you have need of nothing else, right now, Gaius has a long list of herbs for me to fetch. Winter depleted all of his medicine shelves.”
Arthur raised his head higher and looked directly into his face. Merlin had his own eyes cast evasively aside and Arthur could see the mischievous twinkle, again, dancing to overshadow his sadness. Confounded by his strange and elusive behavior, Arthur muddled his reply. “Um, um, of course. Go right ahead.”
Merlin nodded but never made eye contact before leaving.
Watching him go, Arthur frowned to comprehend his complexity. The haunting sadness, he understood and blamed the girl’s death. The mischievous twinkle in Merlin's eyes Arthur also was certain but like the grinning and blushing his apology once caused, he refused to fuel that old humiliating fire. Merlin’s evasive eyes, however, left him unnerved. What were they hiding, he continued to ponder. What ghastly knowledge about his father did Merlin choose not to confide? What did Merlin know, which he didn't? Arthur knew he would not rest until he uncovered the means by which Merlin had challenged the king.
Sacks filled with plants and roots weighing down both shoulders, Merlin returned home. “Gaius," he beamed, although tired and dirty. Aching to deposit his heavy sacks, he went straight to a table. "This should keep you busy for a while," he said, while dumping the contents. "I’ll fetch more in a few days.”
Merlin got no reply. He looked closely at Gaius. The old man's thoughts seemed leagues away as he sat on his bed and haphazardly mended a tear in his pillow with needle and thread. "Gaius," he asked, growing more concerned to see his messy stitches.
Gaius finally glanced around at him. In a low and distant voice, he answered, “ah, Merlin,” but consumed with worry, he resumed his mindless sewing. He then started to mumble. More so, to ease himself. “I know that you meant well," he said. "I can't fault you for your efforts. But I do wish that you had thought things through before you decided to challenge Uther.”
Merlin eased hesitantly toward him. “Gaius, what’s wrong?”
After a moment, Gaius confessed. “I don’t like to be interrogated," he said. "Not when the Witchfinder’s evil tactics landed me on a pyre." The memory flashed pain mixed with anger, across his brow. "Arthur was cordial enough." He admitted, in comparison. "Still, he practically called me the liar I was, when I said that I knew nothing of the quarrel between you and his father.”
“Arthur was here, while I was out gathering herbs,” he deduced, although still confused.
“I’m most disappointed in you, Merlin, that you didn’t realize your quarrel with Uther would leave Arthur very suspicious.”
"But Gaius," he said, seeking to ease the old man's mind now that he had pieced together his baffling behavior. “Arthur thinks that I challenged Uther to keep him from killing a child. Not another sorcerer.” He defended himself that he wasn’t a total idiot.
Gaius shook his head, implying otherwise. “It wasn’t the why, which Arthur interrogated me but the, how. He demanded to know how did you stop Uther from killing the girl?”
“Oh,” he said, and he sat slumped beside Gaius on his bed. Rubbing at his dirty face, he admitted, “I haven’t come up with an excuse for that one, just yet.”
"Well, we better think of something. And fast. Arthur is determined to find the answer and I fear that he’ll question countless others, to do so. Surely, Morgana, Lancelot and maybe even your mother. Arthur doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s on a witch hunt. We all may be exposed by the time he uncovers the truth.”
“I’m so sorry, Gaius. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
"I know," he sympathized and tenderly patted his thigh. "But now is not the time for regret. We must think of a way to stop his hunt.”
After a couple of moments, Merlin jumped to his feet. “Wait a minute,” he said as he remembered something. He then started to pace while trying to remember more. “Arthur is on the wrong trail," he reasoned from their past conversations. "He thinks that I used some deep dark secret about Uther to make him stop the execution.”
“About Uther,” he asked, and with a ray of hope in his voice.
Merlin nodded. "That’s what Arthur is trying to uncover. I'm sure of it.”
"Then, we best give him some deep dark secret about Uther. And a very convincing one," he said, as he stood and started to pace with Merlin. While he paced, he thought back over the decades in Uther's service for a convincing secret. “It may be our only option to save all three of our lives.”
“Morgana.”
Glancing backward, she acknowledged, “Arthur,” as she casually walked the corridor toward the dining hall. “Did you finally decide to join us for dinner, again," she asked and with a sly and cutting little implication in her tone. "I assumed that you’d still be indulging in your manservant’s return.”
He ignored her sexual innuendo while slowing his stride to walk beside her. Next on his list for interrogation, Gaius, Geoffrey of Mammoth and Sir Leon had netted him nothing. He eased into the conversation with a gentle strategy. “I was hoping to spend a bit more time with you,” he offered his pleasurable companionship.
“Oh, really,” she doubted.
Since she doubted, he offered another excuse. “Then perhaps, to ascertain why you dislike Merlin, so."
A more honest response, Morgana dropped her guard. In her usually spiteful retort, she asked, “Beginning to pull our arrogant head out of our pompous ass, are we?"
Arthur smiled. “Enough to know that if it truly were jealousy, as father said, you'd gladly have sought my company in Merlin’s absence. Instead, I saw no more of you than before you tried to have him killed. Perhaps, it’s this secret agenda, which you ranted, after all,” he asked, hoping that she would rant, again.
Disappointing him, Morgana clammed tighter than a shell. Uther's threat loomed large. 'If she exposed the warlock, she would share a chopping block with him.' Frightened for her own head, her skin paled, and her face grew taut as she quickened her pace.
Arthur stood still, stunned by her sudden fright. "Morgana," he insisted to know the matter.
“Your father doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she gave excuse.
Watching her rush away, Arthur felt as though a bolt of lightning struck him. He now felt convinced. Morgana knew the secret, too. She knew how Merlin had challenged his father. No doubt, the ghastly secret had prompted her to seek Merlin's death. Killing Merlin, she had assumed, would protect the king. For the secret to frighten the hardhearted Morgana, Arthur grew frightened, himself. Quickly turning, he paced for his chambers, his refuge, to process what information he had, thus far. Whatever this secret, it had paled Merlin with ghostly jitters that sent him running to pee. It had scared Morgana into scheming murder. It had made Gaius blatantly lie. Most of all, it had made an unyielding king stop a witch burning.
By the time Arthur reached his chambers, he knew that his interrogations must stop. Asking questions, he risked exposing the gruesome knowledge about his father to the light of day. It must remain buried, yet, he could not rest until he uncovered it. Lost to learn how, he went to his window and stood, gazing out. As he gazed, he saw only one road to reach the truth. A troublesome trek, it was fraught with embarrassing booby traps. An intricate trail, few others had privy to tread it. Now a promenade, Arthur knew that his only path to the secret led directly through the mischievous twinkle in Merlin’s now evasive eyes.
As Arthur stood gazing out, Gaius and Merlin carried large baskets through the winding corridors toward Uther's chambers. Their plan in motion, Gaius gave Merlin more sensitive details. “The little room is of the utmost secrecy," he said. "It was built to hide the queen in case of attack. A vertical tunnel leads to the catacombs and out beyond the castle walls. Uther assigned me the duty of escorting first Igraine, then Arthur and Morgana to safety. However, Igraine died years ago and the castle was never attacked while Arthur and Morgana were growing up. I'm certain that Arthur knows nothing about the room. Documents of this secret, along with many others, are sealed in Uther's royal chest. Arthur is to receive them only when he becomes king.”
Merlin struggled under the weight of his basket. “And you’re certain that we can get inside Uther's chambers, carrying all of this,” he asked, again.
Gaius’ basket was lighter but he struggled, too, as he said, “A thorough treatment requires that we change all of his drapes as well as his sheets, mattress cover and eiderdown.” He stopped as they approached Uther's guards standing sentry at the entrance to his private corridor. "Let me do all of the talking," he insisted.
Bedbug prevention gained the court physician, his assistant and their large baskets easy access into the royal chambers. Half an hour later, Gaius stood lookout, peeping through the cracked door and down the hallway. He turned and shouted in a whisper. “Merlin, will you hurry up! Uther and his manservant will be back from dinner at any moment.” He then wiped a bit more of the clove, tobacco leaf and garlic mixture on a nearby table.
Merlin shouted in whispers, too, from the small hidden room. “You said that it has to look convincing,” he reminded Gaius as his golden eyes dotted and danced in a fury, constructing, etching, stroking, arranging…
“Merlin!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he insisted while adding what he considered to be the most important final touches. After easing out, he secured the secret door and helped Gaius spread more pesticide about the room. With their empty baskets enchanted to look filled again with the changed linens, they left.
Arthur continued to stand and stare out at the full moon rising. He waited for Merlin to come perform his nightly manservant's duties. However, he often shook his head in disbelief at his chosen promenade. His head shook, too, at the image of Merlin grinning, blushing and himself humiliated, through all eternity.
Merlin rushed in, apologizing. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I was helping Gaius replenish the medicine shelves." Covering his lie, he quickly asked, "Have you had dinner, yet? Do you want me to fetch you a tray from the kitchens?”
Arthur turned from his window. Intent and intense, he approached Merlin with his best seductive ogle. Merlin never noticed. Not with his evasive eyes. Arthur suddenly stopped a meter from him. “You smell like bedbug treatment,” he sniped.
“Oh, um, Gaius and I just treated the king’s chambers," he replied, in a half-lie.
As Merlin lied with his eyes turned aside, Arthur found it hard to seduce pesticide. Still, he tried. “Bring my dinner," he instructed. "Then, prepare a bath.”
“A bath,” he grumbled. “You just had a bath, this morning.”
Arthur forced another seductive ogle. "The bath is for you," he said. "And prepare two clysters, as well."
"Clysters," he objected and with a deep and exhausted frown. “What brought this on," he asked. "We've already slept together three times, this week.”
Arthur tried to hide his shock. Merlin objecting to sex definitely was an abnormality, he thought, until he looked closer into his face. “Oh, how thoughtless of me," he said. "You must be worn out from crawling around in the woods, all day.” As he spoke, he started undressing Merlin, stripping him of his smelly clothes. Still forcing his seduction, he said, "I'll prepare the clysters, myself." Forcing more sensuality, he instructed, "I want you to get some rest. I’ll have the kitchens bring our dinner and prepare the bath.” With a peck of a kiss to the back of his head and a pat on his butt, Arthur beckoned him into his bed. "I'll wake you when it's ready." He then drew the drapes to conceal his manservant's presence while the castle staff did his chores.
Merlin peered out, wondering his motive. He thought Arthur was being much too kind. After his rest, food, clyster and bath, it became clear to Merlin. Sprawled on his back in the large bed, the aroma of frankincense, a fire blazing and the room glowing sensuously amber, the special attention left Merlin with no doubts. Arthur was trying to finagle the secret from him. A devious game that two could play, Merlin decided to settle back and enjoy the ride.
Whispering sweet nothings in Merlin's ear, Arthur started there, kissing him. "Merlin, I know that you're tired, but I can't seem to get enough of you," he said. "Just relax and let me sooth your body.” He continued to kiss while moving steadily downward. “I've missed you, so…," he continued to whisper.
“I missed you, too, Arthur,” he panted, in earnest. The truth made it easy to play along.
Arthur went lower. “…I never should have dismissed you," he admitted. "It was all my fault. Now, I want to make it up to you. Please, Merlin, tell me what you want,” he asked, although he already knew, by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“Um, Arthur, um, " he stammered. "If you would, um, would, um,”
“Would what," he asked. "Do this?" Suddenly, he took half his length into his mouth.
Instantly, Merlin bucked, thrusting upward.
Arthur simply held his hips down and lingered while tormenting him with more intermittent whispers. “Do you like this, Merlin," he asked, and he teased his slit before running his tongue over his length and breadth, thoroughly coating him. "Tell me what else you like,” he asked, teasing him further with warm breaths against his wet and sensitive flesh. “Would you like me to do this, too,” he asked, and he took his scrotum between his lips, gently rolling his balls inside his sac. “Or this," and he pushed his face down deeper between his legs, circling his tongue and flickering it, insinuating his own thrusts to come.
Merlin was near tears in his pleasure. When Arthur took him back into his mouth, Merlin went into an almost painfully spastic release. In his desperate crave for more of Arthur, he literally yanked him forward to land atop him. He then wrapped his arms around him and took his mouth as he felt Arthur's hot length push deep inside and stroke him on into oblivion. No sooner had his depleted body settled into a peaceful snore, Arthur resumed. He planted more kisses to his ear while whispering sweet nothings, again. “Merlin, what else do you like," he asked. "Tell me. I want to hear all of your private thoughts, your deepest fantasies and all of your darkest secrets.”
"Secrets," he asked, in a sleepy little tone. "You mean, the one about your father?”
Arthur jumped off the bed. "What," he shouted. "Then you knew, all along, what I was doing! And you let me continue! You, you conniving little twit!"
"You're such a dollophead," he uttered as he rolled over, going back to sleep.
Arthur stood, huffing and staring at his back. His strategy foiled, he swore, “I’ll be damned if I let you get away with that!” He rolled Merlin back over. He then straddled him and delved into a full-force assault. Gnawing, sucking, kissing and leaving bruises, he attacked with their long-running sexual battlefare. This time, in a war of stamina.
Merlin laughed under the onslaught. However, five hours later, he no longer laughed. Both too tired to move but Merlin had managed to retain everything. Sprawled and totally exhausted, yet feeling so sexually satisfied, Merlin decided, at that moment, to exploit the secret room and milk it for all it was worth.
Gaius paced his floor when Merlin returned home, near midday. Worry caused the old man to fuss. “You’re out somewhere, dawdling, while our necks are on the line and our plan is falling apart.”
“What's happened,” he asked, but rather unconcerned. A silly little grin and a permanent twinkle now in his eyes, he took a table seat.
Gaius continued to pace. “Geoffrey came to see me, last night," he explained. "I was depending upon him to tell Arthur about the secret room. An old friend, he would have asked me no questions. But Arthur already interrogated him. The poor man was in a tizzy. Our only option now is Morgana, if he hasn't interrogated her, as well. I don’t trust her but maybe she’ll cooperate once she realizes that her own neck is on the line.”
Merlin sat, listening and smiling. Finally, he said, “I don’t think we’ll need her.”
Gaius turned and looked at him. “Certainly, not Lancelot," he objected. "There's no earthly reason that he should know about the room. Do you have someone else in mind who we can trust?”
“Yes, um. Me,” he answered, and with his cheeky grin. “I believe that Arthur has changed his tactics from interrogation, to um, well… let’s just say, a war of stamina.”
Gaius stared at him in a moment of confusion. “Stamina," he asked, but looking closer at Merlin, he noticed the dark purple bruises on his neck. “I see," he said, then shook his head as if to erase the images of their long, hard, and passionate activities. "Perhaps, a second scarf will help cover those battle injuries on your neck.” Somewhat relieved for the time being, he returned to the roots and herbs on his workbench. “Oh, and Merlin," he advised. "Try not to play too hard to get.”
A week later, Gaius thought to turn Merlin over his knee but doubted the good a spanking would do. The young man was enjoying himself entirely too much. Five occasions in that week, he returned home near midday, pleading the same excuse. “But Gaius," he explained. "You said that it has to be convincing.”
Gaius furrowed at him, across their lunch table. “I’m beginning to wonder which is more important to you," he admonished. "Our lives, or your sexual gratification.”
“Gaius, that’s not fair.”
“Neither is what you’re doing to Arthur.”
“Well, he started it,” he defended.
“And now, it’s up to you to end it.”
“And I will,” he promised.
“Merlin!”
“Very soon," he said but committed to no particular date.
Another week, Arthur’s exhaustion was showing. Gaius feared that he may be ready to change his tactics back to interrogations. While Merlin gathered more herbs, Gaius visited Arthur on the training field. Casually, he mentioned, “Sire, your crop of winter knights seems to have progressed quite nicely.”
Tired and sweaty, Arthur stood near a table and gulped a pitcher of water after his hard training session. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he nodded to agree. “A couple of more weeks and I’ll turn them over to Sir Leon for regiment placement.”
“If you can last that long,” he voiced his doubt while gazing up at Arthur with concern. “Forgive me, my lord, but you look exhausted. I noticed it yesterday, as well. If you don’t mind, I took the liberty to bring you a draft." He held out a round pint-size bottle. "One small swig a day will give you ample energy to complete the next two weeks. However, I don’t recommend its use for longer than that."
Arthur readily accepted the bottle of energy. “How long does it take to work,” he asked, with his mind on the night's battle with Merlin.
“Oh, instantly, sire,” he answered as he turned, leaving. However, he turned, again, as if he had forgotten to mention, "Oh, and Arthur, no more than one swallow per day or you'll have far too much energy to properly sleep, at night." He could almost hear the victory celebration exploding in Arthur's brain.
Arthur assured him that he would take caution with the draft. “Then, one small swig tomorrow, before practice," he said but concealed his smile behind another wipe of his hand. "Thank you, Gaius.”
As Gaius walked away, satisfied with his own scheming against Merlin, who schemed against Arthur, he tried not to smile, too, as he answered, “You’re more than welcome, my lord.”
"Arthur, Arthur, no more, no more.” Merlin pleaded in a desperate attempt to scoot toward the headboard and escape his sexual onslaught.
“Then, give me the secret,” he demanded. He grabbed Merlin by his legs and pulled him back to the center of the bed.
“Alright, alright,” he promised, but no sooner reclined again, he started to fall asleep from his exhaustion.
"No, you don't," Arthur insisted. With energy to burn, he slapped Merlin about his hips and thighs to keep him awake. Against Gaius' advice, Arthur had taken three big swigs. He also knew that the twinkle in Merlin's eyes told his love for blow jobs. Arthur gave him another. The sixth one, that night.
Merlin tried to scoot away, again. Arthur pulled him back, again. Their tug-of-war left Merlin completely worn out. So exhausted, he surrendered. "You win, Arthur. You win. You win.”
“Then, give me the secret."
“Alright, alright,” he said, but he started to drift in the lull.
“I said, no, you don’t!” Arthur quickly swallowed him, again.
“A room! A room,” he cried out.
“That’s not good enough,” he insisted and with his mouth still surrounding his acutely tender head. "What about a room?"
Merlin shuddered as the words vibrated against his sensitive flesh. He barely could speak and he stammered out, “The secret, Arthur. The secret is in a room. I’ll take you there. Tomorrow. I promise. But please, no more. Let me rest, now. Please.”
Arthur nodded and allowed him to roll over for sleep. He knew that finally he was close to learning the truth and he reclined beside Merlin. Wide awake from the three big swigs, he wondered what ghastly knowledge he would uncover about his father. All his life he had loved his father, had tried to honor and respect him. Now, his own curiosity may leave him with nothing but hatred, loathing and regret. The prospect frightened him, and he spooned behind Merlin and held on tightly.
The king breakfasted with Morgana in the dining hall. Arthur stood watching as Merlin opened the secret door in his chambers. Quiet, reserved and fearful, Arthur vaguely heard Merlin's endless ramble as he explained, “…I discovered the room one day, when your father's manservant ordered me to dust all the books on these shelves. I dropped one and it fell against the wall. My foot accidentally hit this brick here, just so, and the entire bookcase started sliding toward me. I thought it would crush me, for sure, but it suddenly stopped moving. That’s when I discovered that the bookcase actually is a secret door, which conceals this little room, here.”
With the door opened, Merlin handed Arthur a candelabra, stepped aside and waited nervously for his reaction.
Arthur took the candles and steeled himself to go inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the change in light in the small, four by six-foot space. Then, anxiety struck, and he forgot how to breathe. Standing motionless, he stared directly at a portrait and into the face of a man not much older than himself. But was it a man, his thoughts cried out. Not, when dressed in a long shimmering evening gown with face rouge, lipstick and a thin gold tiara that set atop pinned and swirling blond hair.
For the longest while, Arthur stared at the portrait with his gut churning. He then gazed slowly about the small and ghostly room. Beneath the portrait stood a vanity. Cluttered with forsaken perfume bottles, jeweled encrusted brooches, gold plated hairpins, more rouge and lipstick containers, all, set covered in dust. Against his left shoulder, a rack held several more flowing gowns that had years since lost their sheen. To his right, a small table with large delicate high heel shoes, now dried, and crackled at his touch. Above the shoes, a lighter shade etched the outline of a recently missing portrait. Obvious to Arthur, the one Merlin used to challenge his father to stop a witch burning.
Arthur stared at the remaining portrait again and his emotions begin to well from the pit of his soul, streaming tears down his face. To the outside world, his father would lose all manner of respect. The king would be laughed an aberration, a deviant, a freak. However, Arthur recognized the dress he wore, he recognized the blond swirling hair, the tiara atop his head. He had seen them all before but in what had been labeled an illusion. "Mother," he whispered, and suddenly his love, honor and respect for his father magnified.
All his life, he had questioned his father’s love for his mother. Now, given a portrait of his father's soul, he saw a suffering man so filled with grief and despair by her lost that once he had tried to become her. A greater grieving, Arthur could not imagine. Left grieving, too, he knew that Merlin stared at him from the doorway. In a voice that could manage only a few words, Arthur asked, "The missing portrait?"
Merlin managed to say only one word, himself. "Destroyed," he uttered.
Arthur nodded to accept his answer. He knew the portrait no longer mattered to Merlin, since the girl's death had ended his challenge. For all intent and purpose, he now knew that Merlin had won, too. Merlin had kept him from killing another child. Arthur turned away from his father's private shrine to his mother and eased out. Unwilling for Merlin to see the tears dripping from his chin, he turned his face aside while passing back the candelabra. Still quiet and reserved but no longer frightened, he started leaving as he ordered, “reseal the room and we will speak of this, never again.”
Merlin nodded to his back, with his own tears streaming. The deception was cruel, he knew, but no comparison to a pyre or a chopping block, which they all may have faced. He took consolation in knowing that Arthur had grasped his intended meaning and perhaps cherished his father, even more. Neither could have borne the opposite, Merlin was certain, as he closed the door to the secret room.