Chapter Text
Hunith thought to wad-up the letter and sling the filthy thing into her fireplace. All lies, her mind screamed. All, cruel and filthy lies. Yet, she knew she could not ignore the words when someone as kind and decent as Guinevere had written the letter. Instead of burning the rough brown parchment, Hunith added it to her hand-quilted haversack that she now packed for Camelot.
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Merlin dug his fingers into the mattress. Left clutching the sheets, he soon released his grip and arched his spine just as Arthur wrapped strong arms around his chest and pulled him up to his knees. Splaying his thighs wide, Merlin sought desperately to have Arthur deeper inside and he rotated his hips, wedging them locked into Arthur's loins with a force that pushed them backward upon their haunches. Sweat sealing their heated bodies, he turned his long neck to meet a mouth already parted and waiting for him. As their lips sealed, too, he gripped Arthur by his nape to keep them locked while swaying his pelvis faster, speeding their motions.
Arthur groaned, pleading faster. Faster. Their releases now urgent, Arthur rubbed the breadth of Merlin’s chest, squeezing muscles and nipples with scissored fingers that went downward and gripped his manhood in both hands, scrotum and length. Forcing their loins tighter still, Arthur readily matched his pace. Each suddenly cried into the other’s mouth to silence their passions as they drew motionless, melded, while bone-shattering tremors threatened to rip them apart.
In unison they resumed until draining their last iotas of energy. Nothing left, they fell purposely into their sleep positions. Merlin willed his spent arm to retrieve a cloth from the bedside table and wiped them up before straightening their covers. He then settled against the warm chest behind him.
Subconsciously, Arthur draped an arm across his stomach and pulled him closer. As he drifted, fading from the world, he mumbled, “I love you, Merlin.”
A simple declarative sentence spoken in the thralls of sleep, barely audible, Merlin knew the words were not meant for his ears, nor Arthur would have consciously said them. Neither would he. They were men, now, battle-tested and destined to rule a kingdom. Not tiptoeing tulips who verbalized such emotions. Especially, to another man. The words still brought tears to his eyes. Merlin snuggled tighter and whispered to an unhearing snore. “I love you, too, Arthur,” he uttered.
Near mid-morning, Merlin finished tidying the chambers. With Arthur's girly words still fresh in his mind and causing a happy little smile, he returned the royal breakfast trays to the kitchen before going to muck the stables. While he mucked, Gaius searched frantically for him. No luck in the prince's chambers or the kitchens, Gaius scurried down a corridor toward a castle exit that led to the knights training on the field.
A voice suddenly called out, "Gaius."
The old man recognized the voice but pretended to not hear. He considered his current business to be far more pressing.
"Gaius!" The voice called louder.
No choice, Gaius stopped and silently cursed, “damn,” before he turned and said, “Yes, sire,” to answer the king.
Uther approached and rested a casual hand upon his shoulder. His face beamed with pride as he said, “Olaf’s delegation brought with them his list of questions concerning our new sewage advancements. It seems, our skills precede us.” Steering Gaius toward their meeting room, he instructed, “enlighten them on our accomplishments in disease control...”
Merlin left the stables and headed for his room after his night with Arthur and his morning of chores. As he opened Gaius' door, he first startled, then excitement and apprehension filled his eyes. "Mother," he exclaimed. All the while, questions bombarded his brain. “When, how did you get here? Is everything alright,” he insisted to know.
Hunith quickly answered to ease his fears. “I’m fine. Ealdor is fine,” she said. Then smiling, she calmly asked, “Do I need a reason to visit my only child?”
Merlin exhaled. Her calming words and gentle smile relieved his worries and he rushed to hug her. However, he stopped short of their embrace with apologizing eyes. He suddenly remembered that horse dung covered his clothes.
Hunith hugged him, anyway. “We have horses in Ealdor, too. Remember,” she said as she lowered his head and kissed a clean spot on top. She then stepped back. Seeing an opportunity in his filthy clothes, she started her gentle probe and with a mother's proficiency. Still smiling, she asked, "I thought you were Arthur’s manservant? Not his stable boy.”
Merlin laughed in reply. "It's his idea of punishment," he said. "I failed to wake him in time to start training, this morning.” As soon as he had spoken, however, his amusement faded. Apprehensive, again, he wondered if she had grasped his full meaning.
Hunith assumed. Yet, she concealed her thoughts while slowly pacing her tender interrogation. Smiling again, she added, “I’m sure that his punishments are reasonable, as long as he doesn’t beat you.”
“Beat me,” he asked, surprised by her statement. A strange uneasiness developed between them and he cautiously inquired, “Mother, why would you say that?”
“Oh, a rumor has reached Ealdor,” she responded casually as if dismissing the rumor as trivial gossip. However, logic still dictated that she ask, “is the rumor true? Does Arthur hit you? In your face?”
Merlin stood, speechless. His eyes searched the room with his mind wondering Gaius’ whereabouts. As he searched and wondered, Hunith read evasion on his face and she concluded that the rumor was true. "Arthur does hit you," she deduced. "Does he put you in the stocks and throw you in the dungeons, as well,” she now demanded to know.
“Mother, where is Gaius," he asked. "Did you press him for this information, before I arrived?”
“Gaius has told me nothing! But he should have,” she replied, growing angry.
“Mother, please. Things aren’t what they seem. Let me explain,”
“Explain what,” she interrupted, growing angrier. “That Arthur is not as I believed but is a cruel and evil tyrant, like all the rest!”
“Mother, where are you getting this information,” he pleaded. “Arthur is neither cruel nor evil,”
She interrupted him, again. "You defend Arthur but I hear no denials! Did he cast you into the streets, as well? In the dead of winter? To freeze and starve to death?”
Merlin opened his mouth but didn't know which event to explain first. He begged, instead, "Please, mother, be reasonable. There are good explanations for everything,"
She still heard no denials from him. The entire letter was true, she concluded. Every cruel and filthy word. She now fought panic. Fear suddenly surpassed her anger, and she grabbed him by his shoulders. "We'll flee," she said. "This moment! Back to Ealdor and out of his kingdom! If he pursues, we’ll run farther! Deeper into Mercia! Into the forest of Ascetir. Live among the Druids if need be…” Still planning their escape, she turned and rushed toward his bedroom to pack his things. “…we must make our loads light…”
"Flee? Pursue? Live with the Druids? Mother, what are you talking about," he asked as he followed her. "I have no intentions of leaving Camelot…”
His words made no difference. As she rushed to pack his things, she tried to comfort him. Speaking in an equal rush, she said, “It’s alright, dear. I understand. Here, you mingle with royalty and serve a prince and even a king and live in a glamorous castle with knights and challenges and feasts and Camelot is always bustling and each day is filled with excitement and adventure for you, unlike Ealdor, where little ever happens and we barely can scratch out a living…”
Merlin sighed. Reasoning with her was hopeless, he thought. Especially, since everything that she believed was true. No denying it, he had been punched, pelted, locked up, cast out, nearly froze, nearly starved and yet, each had a valid explanation. As he stood inside his bedroom doorway and watched her move frantically about his room, grabbing this of his belongings and discarding that, he realized that she still considered him a child. But he wasn't a child. He was a tough and battle-tested man, now. Like a man, he raised his voice in objection. “Mother, I understand your concerns," he said, "but I’m not leaving.”
She continued to speak in her rush as she leaned over his bed and stuffed his knapsack. “Dear, you don’t realize what you’re saying. I know you believe that life is glorious here and worth the sacrifices that you make but I will not let you remain in this den of iniquity, subjected to Arthur’s abuse, subjected to his,”
Merlin spoke over her. He tried to put more authority into his tone as he said, “I’m sorry, Mother, but the choice is mine. And I choose to stay.”
Hunith went deadly quiet. In a slow turn, she gazed upon him. Summoning the spitfire of a mother bear protecting her cub, she swore, “Then, I will take that choice away from you.”
“What, how,” he stammered, and in the tone of a child, again. Never had he seen her so riled. “What are you planning to do,” he asked her.
Hunith thought fast. Within seconds, she answered him. Low and stern, she said, “I will give you a day’s head start. Then, I will go to the king, myself, and reveal your magic.”
Merlin's mouth fell open. The king already knew. Thinking it the greatest confusion of all for him to explain, he realized that she would be the one in danger if she should discover that the king knew -- and the king knew she knew he knew. His head ached. Muttering through his opened mouth, he asked, “Mother, you would do that to me?”
Rage twisted her face as she vowed, “Best we escape you far from Arthur, lest I kill him! And if I die in my attempt, so be it! Whatever the cost, I will never let you stay here as," Steeling herself, she finally said the most sordid part of the letter, "as Arthur's sexual slave!”
Arthur paced ahead. When Gaius finally caught up, Arthur stood gazing about Merlin’s shambled bedroom. Still in his training armor, sweat-soaked hair plastered his brow. Without turning, he acknowledged, “Gaius. We’re too late. They’ve already gone.”
The old man bent over his medicine table to sturdy himself and catch his breath. He struggled to apologize and he huffed out," I’m sorry, sire. I tried to reach you in time. Unfortunately, I was detained.”
Arthur turned and descended the bedroom steps in two giant strides. Leaving, he said, “They couldn’t have gotten very far. Not if they’re on foot.”
“Sire,” he cautioned as he reached out and grabbed Arthur's arm as he passed by him. “Before you pursue, there are several things that I think you should know.”
“Speak quickly, Gaius! Time is valuable!” He started to pace in his wait to listen.
“It concerns Gwen, my lord.”
Arthur stopped pacing. Stunned by the mention of her name, he asked, “Guinevere? What connection has she with Merlin’s leaving?”
Gaius finally stood up. He breathed a bit easier as he explained, “It's the reason that I believe you should delay. I feel it wise for you to arm yourself with as much information as possible before you face Hunith. As I said on the training field, she is a mother possessed. At all cost, she is determined to protect her son and I fear that she has been convinced the enemy is you.”
“Gaius, are you saying that Guinevere convinced her of this nonsense,” he asked, with his top lip contorting upward.
“My sentiments exactly, sire," he said. "And I told Hunith as much but in her anger, she let slip that Gwen communicated to her in a letter certain occurrences, which brought her to Camelot.”
“Occurrences,” he asked, with his doubt turning into confusion.
“Not pleasant for a mother to read, I’m afraid,” he said, then he gave a long and pensive gaze into Arthur's eyes.
Arthur stared back. He soon read the pensive gaze and he started to think back. As he thought, he took a seat on a bench. Numerous past occurrences, he now realized, would enrage a mother. Foremost, his punches to Merlin's face, not to mention his punches to Merlin's body, elsewhere. Then, his dismissal, with Merlin an outcast, forced to live on the streets, reduced to a common beggar, wasted to bone, nearly froze and seeking shelter in the dungeons. Merlin's subsequent illness -- long, harsh and debilitating. Arthur's thoughts finally settled on his bed with her son gripping the sheets while he thrust into him with a tireless and even reckless passion. After several moments of thought, he uttered, “I see.”
Gaius stood, looking down at him. By Arthur's resigned and angst-riddled face, Gaius imagined his thoughts. He cleared his throat as he sought to justify the letter. “Gwen loves you, Arthur," he said. "She loves Merlin, too. But only so much can she be expected to bear.”
“So, she breaks us apart,” he sighed as his shoulders slumped with the weight of his chain mail suddenly heavy upon his back. Together, he and Merlin had wage battle against creatures, sorcerers, bandits and even each other but never had he expected them to be ripped apart, defeated, and by all things, a sordid letter.