Fic: Love Potion No. 9, or: A Midsummer Night's Dream in Camelot!
Title: Love Potion No. 9, or: A Midsummer Night's Dream in Camelot!
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Gwen, Morgana/Merlin -- sort of
Words: 6,500
Rating: PG-13
Beta: Many thanks to strainconductor and
serotonin_storm
Summary: Gaius had warned Merlin about manipulating others' emotions with magic. “Magic used for selfish purposes never ends well,” he'd said. But this, Merlin was confident, didn't count.
Gaius had warned Merlin about manipulating others' emotions with magic. “Magic used for selfish purposes never ends well,” he'd said.
But this, Merlin was confident, didn't count.
Firstly, it wasn't really a love potion. More of an infatuation potion, when you thought about it. Merlin had been very careful with the recipe, giving it just enough of a kick to inspire a little passion.
And secondly, he wasn't using it for selfish ends at all. A scullery maid had been shirking her duties to sulk ever since one of the grooms had snubbed her. Merlin was certain that she was more enamoured of her own heart-broken state than the boy in question, and if the groom were to suddenly return her affections, she would come to her senses rather quickly. Meanwhile, the potion would wear off in a few days, and the boy could go back to staring at himself in reflective surfaces.
So, in a way, it was a public service -- his duty, even. And if it meant Merlin was no longer stuck running the girl's errands while she hid in the cellar and wept, well, that was just as side benefit.
It was one of Merlin's better plans, and he took a moment to appreciate his work as he decanted a little of the potion into a vial. His mouth watered at the strong the scent of strawberries, and he stoppered it quickly.
The trickiest part of his plan was that, having consumed the potion, the victim would fall in love, er, infatuation with the first person they saw afterwards. He'd looked for a spell that could target a specific individual, but unfortunately, those were all powerful love spells, difficult to break and dangerous to attempt.
This spell amounted to a bottle of wine and some flattering lighting. He set the small bottle down with a feeling of satisfaction. It couldn't be too hard to ensure the potion went to the right person.
“Merlin!”
Merlin jumped, knocking over the vial. He scrambled to put it to rights as Arthur clapped him on the shoulder.
“Yes, can I help you?” Merlin inquired with a strained smile.
“I need a sparring partner. Go get your kit on.”
“What, now?”
“No, I was thinking sometime next week. How's Thursday?” Arthur said, irritated. “Yes, of course now.”
“Because, you see, I've actually got something I rather need to do this afternoon. Can't you rope one of the knights into being your punching bag?”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, the warning evident in his tone. “They've got the afternoon off. You haven't.”
“But....” Merlin protested weakly, but Arthur was already leaving, the argument settled.
Merlin rose and trailed after him reluctantly.
---
Merlin didn't mind that Arthur always won; it was that he won so easily that rankled. Badly out of breath, sweat dripping into his eyes and his ears ringing with the last blow he'd taken, Merlin wondered just what sort of appeal this held for Arthur.
“You should have seen that last one coming.” Arthur danced from side to side, grinning fiercely under his helm.
“Can I have five minutes, please?” Merlin said as soon as he'd got enough breath for it. “I'm about to keel over.”
Arthur stopped with the bobbing-and-weaving bit. “Oh, yes, fine. Honestly, Merlin. Morgana had more stamina when she was twelve.”
Merlin collapsed where he was, dropping his sword and shield. “Surely you get enough practice with the knights' regular exercise.”
“This isn't practice,” Arthur corrected, removing his helm. “I'd have to fight someone halfway decent for it to be practice.” He carefully sheathed his sword and sat down next to Merlin. “This is just letting off steam.”
Arthur's fair skin was flushed with the exertion, damp hair curling a bit behind his ears. Merlin's fingers itched to reach out and tweak it. He sat on them just to be sure, but maybe his face betrayed him: Arthur was giving him a strange look.
“Wouldn't a sturdy post serve as well?” Merlin said crossly. “And bruise less easily?”
Arthur smirked, making a show of pulling off his gloves. “But they'd be considerably less fun to rough up. Besides, you need toughening.”
Merlin sank back into the grass, which was wonderfully soft and springy and tickled his neck. His limbs ached, and it was indescribably lovely to lie there and do nothing but watch a wisp of cloud drift by. His eyes closed. An insect buzzed somewhere nearby.
“Merlin.”
Merlin cracked open first one eye and then the other. Arthur loomed over him. His lips -- very pink, Merlin noted -- were pursed in displeasure.
“Get up.”
“Can't.” Merlin closed his eyes. “I'm dead. You've killed me.”
Arthur snorted. “A pity. You're replaceable, but it's an inconvenience.” He seized Merlin's wrists, and his calloused fingers were rough and hot. “Up you go.” He heaved, but Merlin sagged bonelessly, becoming dead weight, and Arthur failed to get him very far.
“Enough,” Arthur said, bracing himself for a better effort. “I'm ready for another round.”
“Then it's too bad I'm dead,” Merlin said, refusing to cooperate. “Very sad.”
Arthur hauled mightily upwards and succeeded in getting Merlin halfway up. Merlin yanked backwards suddenly, and they both toppled over, Arthur landing on top of Merlin, the hilt of his sword catching Merlin in the ribs.
“Ow!” Merlin yelped.
Arthur pushed himself up, a hand braced on either side of Merlin's head. Merlin's mouth went very dry.
“It's a good thing you're dead, because if you weren't, I would kill you,” Arthur said, but he didn't sound angry. With a final grimace, he got up.
This time Merlin scrambled up without further complaint.
---
Gaius was puttering about his work table when Merlin returned.
“Had a good day?” he asked gently, taking in Merlin's dishevelled, sweaty appearance.
“He treats his horse with more concern,” Merlin complained, going to the cupboard to retrieve the jar of cassia ointment for his aching shoulders.
“I'm sure he appreciates your efforts in his service,” Gaius said. Merlin couldn't tell if he was serious or not. “And thank you for mixing up Morgana's draught. You'll be glad to know I've spared you the trip and already delivered it.”
“Thanks, Gaius.” Merlin pushed aside several bottles, rummaging through the cupboard. He paused, a jar of lavender tincture in hand. “... Wait, what draught?”
“The one you left on the table like I asked you this morning.”
Merlin turned slowly. The vial of Morgana's sleeping draught was in his room, where he'd left it last night.
“Is something wrong, Merlin? You look rather pale.”
“Nothing's wrong,” Merlin said quickly. “I, ah, remembered that I should go help Arthur. Now, actually.”
“Well, if you must--” Gaius said, but Merlin was already gone.
---
Merlin leaned against the wall outside Morgana’s room, trying to catch his breath. His concern was out of proportion. Morgana would notice the sudden change in the potion's colour; she wouldn't actually drink it.
He hesitated, his knuckles poised above the door, and then knocked. There wasn’t an answer, and he tried again, jittering in impatience.
The door swung open, revealing a cool and collected Morgana.
“Merlin?” she asked, her forehead creasing in concern. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not really,” he gulped, relief washing over him. “It’s just, there’s been a mix-up--”
“Are you sure you’re quite well?” She reached out to press the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re positively feverish.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I just ran up here from Gaius’ room.” Her hand lingered, trailing down his temple. His heart sank as she tenderly cupped the side of his face.
“You ran up here to see me? How sweet.”
“No! Not sweet, not sweet at all -- I made a horrible mistake with your sleeping draught. I don’t suppose you haven’t--”
“It tasted different this time, rather an improvement. Like strawberries.” She licked her lips slowly. Merlin flushed and grabbed her wrist before her fingers could tangle in his hair.
“I should go,” he tried, but she’d taken a firm hold on his arm, ushering him into the room. He would have resisted, but a maid with a stack of folded linens rounded the corner at the end of the hall.
He didn't want any witnesses.
Once inside, Morgana shut the door and leant against it. Her dressing gown had worked itself loose, and she wore a thin chemise underneath. A very thin chemise, Merlin noticed, quickly dragging his gaze back to her face.
“Merlin, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate that you always look out for me,” she said, somewhat breathily. She stepped forward, and Merlin retreated, stumbling into the table and nearly falling.
“Oh, it’s really no problem. No problem at all. In fact, I do it for everyone.” He righted himself and put the table between them.
“But does anyone ever thank you for it?” Morgana idly twirled a lock of hair around her fingers and blinked rapidly; she was batting her eyelashes at him, Merlin realised in horror.
“Well ...” Merlin started, “no, they don’t. Not that I mind.”
She shook her head sadly. “Arthur doesn’t appreciate all you do for him.”
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck as he considered. “It is my job, so I suppose it’s all right....”
“He takes you for granted. It’s not fair.” She rounded the table, her fingers trailing along its edge.
“It’s not!” Merlin agreed, feeling vindicated. “Just today he made me spar with him, and he only does it because beating one of the practice dummies isn’t as satisfying. Now I’m bruised black and blue.” Merlin rubbed a particularly vicious welt on his arm at the memory.
“There, there. You poor thing. Hush now.” The hug surprised Merlin, and it took him a moment to collect himself. It was actually rather nice. Morgana was all ... soft, and she smelled sort of flowery. “I’ll speak to him. He can’t keep treating you like this.” She rubbed his back, and that wasn’t bad either.
Merlin’s eyes widened as he registered her hand drifting lower down his back to cup his--
The sound of crockery shattering startled them both. Merlin twisted, freeing himself from Morgana’s embrace.
Gwen stood, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, shards of pottery and a spreading puddle of water at her feet. “Oh! I’m sorry -- I just, I should have knocked. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I am so, so sorry. Won’t happen again.” The water must have soaked through the toes of her slippers, because she suddenly looked down, noticing the mess. “I’ll just clean this up, shall I? Or I could wait and come back later?”
“It’s all right, Gwen. You’re not interrupting,” Merlin assured her, guilt and gratitude washing over him in equal measure. “I was just leaving.”
Behind him Morgana made a little noise of protest, but she didn’t try to restrain him as he skirted around a painfully red Gwen and escaped.
---
He attended Arthur at breakfast the following morning, making a point to avoid eye contact with Morgana. Which was difficult, as she kept waving a napkin at him. When he was obliged to fill her goblet, she held it nearly out of reach, forcing him to lean over her.
He straightened awkwardly and caught Arthur watching him, handsome features marred by a frown. Merlin gave a little shrug and hurried off to the kitchen to fetch more bread.
He left breakfast with Morgana hot on his heels, but he lost her by hiding in a broom closet. Thankfully, Arthur had a hunting trip planned, and for once, Merlin was only too happy to spend the day mucking about in the underbrush.
“Shall we turn back now?” Arthur asked after a quick lunch. “We've already got quite a brace of rabbits.”
“Why go back now?” Merlin asked. “The day's not even half done.”
Arthur's eyes narrowed. “You're never this keen to hunt.”
“What, no...? I love killing things. Always have.” But Arthur's suspicious look didn't improve.
“What are you avoiding?”
“Nothing,” Merlin insisted a little too vehemently.
“All right,” Arthur said. “We can stay out the rest of the afternoon -- but only if you spar with me tomorrow. And no complaints.”
Merlin bit his lip; it was a hard bargain. “Deal,” he sighed finally, remembering Morgana's wandering hands.
Arthur snorted. “You must be desperate.” He cocked his head to the side as he considered. “So what are you avoiding?”
“Gaius wants me to help him distil the muckwort. It's foul.”
“Lying,” Arthur singsonged. “I can always tell when you're lying. You can't keep secrets from me.”
“Is that so,” Merlin said wryly, reaching for the water.
“Mm hm,” Arthur confirmed with a grin that made Merlin ache just a little. He handed the flask over, and Merlin drank thirstily to keep from looking at him.
---
Luck was with Merlin that evening: Arthur was content to eat supper in his room, and Merlin made it safely back to his own quarters without seeing anyone. He collapsed into bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
---
“Merlin....”
Merlin sighed, his brain foggy with sleep. It was still dark, far too early to be up and about. He blinked slowly, and Morgana's face came into focus above him, her skin ghostly in the weak moonlight.
“Gah!” he cried, tried to stand, got tangled in the blankets and landed arse-first on the floor. “What are you doing here? Er, my Lady,” he tacked on as an afterthought.
She peered down at him in concern, strands of her hair brushing against his face. “I couldn't bear to be apart any longer. Dearest, darling Merlin, I must tell you how I feel.”
Merlin extracted himself from the bedding and rubbed his bruised backside. “D'you find anything ... strange about this? I mean, it's all very sudden.”
Morgana pushed her hair over her shoulder as she considered. “I confess I've never been interested in someone like you before--”
“A servant?” Merlin asked.
“A man.” Merlin choked, but she was going on, “Even now I can't quite believe it.” A confused look crossed her face, but then she shook herself a little and her coy expression returned. “But the heart wants what it wants.” She crooked her finger, beckoning him forward.
“Look, Morgana, I'm flattered, but I just don't think this is a good idea.” Her expression darkened and he hastened to add, “Think of your reputation. And Uther would kill me.”
He winced to think of it, and Uther's wrath was enough to give even Morgana pause.
“Oh,” she said, and then, reaching out for him, “We'll just have to be careful.”
He took her hands, but instead of letting her pull him down, he levered her to her feet, carefully sidestepping to avoid another embrace. “I just can't. In good conscience, I mean. I'll just have to pine from afar. Far, far afar.” He pushed her gently -- but insistently -- towards the door. “It's going to be hard, for both of us. But we must be strong and stay away from each other.”
He guided her to the hallway, pushed her out the door, and, with a quick, “Good night,”
he shut the door in her face and locked it.
He waited until he heard her footsteps retreat, and then he went and slept in the stables.
---
He hid with the horses until after breakfast. Arthur would doubtless note his absence, but any punishment was worth it -- even the stocks. Then again, if Morgana found him in the stocks ... vulnerable, helpless, exposed ... he pushed the thought away.
He took the long way ‘round to get back into the castle, skirting the vegetable garden behind the kitchen. He heard something and stopped short: someone was crying. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned from the castle and started hunting through the bushes.
He rounded the chicken coop, and his heart sank. Gwen.
She sat, her knees drawn up to her chest, head pillowed on her arms. Her shoulders shook as her voice caught on another sob.
“Gwen,” Merlin said, and she looked up, startled.
She tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Oh, hello, Merlin. Sorry, I was just coming in. Do you need something?” She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.
He shook his head and took a seat beside her, tugging his neckerchief loose and handing it to her. She accepted it with a sniffle.
“So.” Merlin carefully scraped dirt out from under his thumbnail.
“I’m sorry,” Gwen hiccoughed. “I’m happy for you, really.”
“It'd be easier to believe that if you could say it without crying.” Merlin continued over her protest, “Gwen. There’s nothing between me and Morgana.”
“Funny, that’s not the impression I got. You two seemed uncommonly close yesterday. And she won’t stop talking about you.”
“It’s not real, she’s,” and he lowered his voice to a whisper, “enchanted.”
Gwen’s brow knit in uncertainty. “Enchanted?”
He nodded emphatically. “How else could she go for me? Definitely a spell.”
She blinked, her eyes rimmed in red. “Why would anyone want Morgana to fall in love with you?”
“Well, you know. Sorcerers are a shifty lot. Probably hoping to disgrace Morgana and embarrass Uther.” Gwen looked horrified. “Don’t worry, I’m working on it -- I mean, Gaius is working on it. We’ll have her right as rain in no time. Meanwhile, maybe keep this is as quiet as you can?”
She nodded, but her pained expression didn’t ease. “What if it’s not a spell? Oh Merlin, I don’t think I could live if she didn’t love me anymore....” She buried her face in the neckerchief.
He put a hesitant arm around her shoulders, and she turned, clutching the front of his shirt. He sighed and gathered her in his arms, her head tucked neatly under his chin. “Hush now. It’ll be all right, I promise you.” He rocked her gently, and she quieted after a bit. “Go and get yourself cleaned up,” he said when another crying bout no longer seemed imminent.
She nodded and stood, running her hands over her hair. “Am I presentable?”
He smiled. “Yeah, very.”
“Thank you, Merlin. What would I do without you?”
“Something tells me you’d get on well enough.”
---
Gaius was out on his rounds when Merlin returned, and Merlin wasted no time retrieving the magic book from its hiding spot. The antidote always went hand in hand with the poison.
He got out the remaining potion and poured a bit into a shallow bowl. The scent of strawberries was overpowering as he leafed through the magic book, looking for a promising counter-potion. The book suggested hazelwood as a dissolving agent. He added a few drops.
The potion thickened and turned yellow. And started to smoke.
Merlin choked on the oily, black smoke, the acrid stench of singed hair burning the back of his throat. He dumped a glass of water over it, but that only made matters worse, so he opened a window and waited it out.
On the next trial, he was a little more cautious, but that one didn't do anything at all. And here Merlin realised his problem: the only way to see if he'd got it right was for Morgana to drink it, and he couldn't very well go around asking her to drink strange potions without her getting curious as to why. If they all turned out like this, he couldn't even slip it in her wine -- it would surely settle to the bottom.
He sighed, propping his head in his hand and staring at the half-empty bottle as if it might suddenly start cooperating.
“Did you forget your promise? Or did you hope that I would?”
Merlin jumped. Arthur stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, the sleeves of his shirt rolled past his elbows.
“Oh, I didn't forget,” Merlin protested, but Arthur saw through it. “I just got caught up ... working on something.”
Arthur sauntered over, and Merlin surreptitiously slid the book off the edge of the table, catching it with magic and easing it down onto the bench beside him, cover down.
“What is this?” Arthur asked, picking up the love potion and sniffing it curiously.
“Don't! Er, please don't touch that,” Merlin said, taking the bottle from Arthur and setting it back down. “It's, uh, a cure for ... warts.”
“Oh,” Arthur said, losing interest.
“Give me a moment, and I'll be ready. Then you can beat me to a pulp to your heart's content.”
“Excellent.” Arthur perched on the edge of the table, fiddling curiously with a jar of dried something-or-other.
His palms sweating, Merlin carefully straightened a few of the instruments and then picked up the book, casually shielding it from view with his body. Arthur wasn't paying attention as Merlin retreated to his room and quickly stashed the book away.
He returned, brushing his hands off. “Ready. Let's go bash my head in.”
Arthur still sat on the table. He was watching Merlin with a curious expression.
“Morgana seems to have grown quite fond of you. Apparently,” Arthur said, shaking his head in wonderment.
The blood drained from Merlin's face, but he plastered on a weak smile. “What's not to like?” He passed Arthur, making for the door, but Arthur reached out and caught his wrist. Merlin tried to tug free, but Arthur just tightened his grip.
“The truth, now: what is between you and the Lady Morgana?”
“Nothing but friendship,” Merlin said, his throat dry.
Arthur searched Merlin's face and then -- whatever he found there -- he leant in and kissed Merlin, full on the mouth.
Merlin leant into the kiss, his hand coming up automatically to curl around the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur dropped Merlin’s wrist, but only so his arm could twine around Merlin’s waist, pulling him in close. Merlin moaned a little, his mouth opening under Arthur’s.
A niggling thought arose in the back of Merlin’s mind. He tried to ignore it as his fingers combed through Arthur’s hair. The thought grew more insistent, and Merlin reluctantly broke the kiss.
Arthur tried to take his mouth again, but Merlin evaded, and Arthur kissed his ear instead.
“Mmmm,” Merlin said, steeling himself. “Arthur, you haven’t, you didn’t ... drink that potion, did you?”
“Hmm?” Arthur said distractedly. “God, you’re beautiful. How did I never notice?”
Merlin’s heart sank like a stone, and he released Arthur, pushing him away when he didn’t do the same.
“We can’t do this,” Merlin said, and it took everything he had to say it. Confusion clouded over Arthur’s face.
“Why not?” he asked with a laugh of incredulity. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to.”
“It’s just ... not right,” Merlin finished weakly. Arthur snorted and moved towards him again. Merlin backed away, and that brought Arthur up short. His amused expression turned ugly, mouth twisting downward.
“I’m not going to force you,” he said. “You needn’t worry.”
“It’s not that,” Merlin said hastily. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh really?” Arthur’s brow rose, and he leered, “Are you sure about that?”
Merlin flushed. “I didn’t mean physically. I’m sure you’re very good -- er, never mind. But we -- but I -- can’t. Believe me, Arthur, please.”
Arthur drew a sharp breath, his jaw clenched, and Merlin feared he would argue. Instead, he turned on his heel, tension written in the line of his shoulders. “Come on, unless you’re going to try and get out of sparring.”
Merlin nodded mutely and followed, comforting himself with the thought of his preserved principles.
---
Next time his principles could sod off, Merlin swore as Arthur worked out a considerable amount of rage. Turning Arthur down and then handing him a sword had to be the daftest thing Merlin had ever done. And that was saying something.
Merlin got his shield up in time to block Arthur’s swing, but his arm vibrated with the impact, and his fingers were going numb. He gave ground as Arthur struck again and again, without seeming to tire.
Merlin had always assumed that Arthur hadn’t been holding back in their previous bouts -- an assumption which was quickly proving erroneous. He’d long since given up trying to return Arthur’s blows, and now he just settled for avoiding as many as possible, Arthur chasing him around the field.
“How about if you pick on someone who can fight back, you bully?”
They both turned in surprise, but not before Arthur got a sharp rap in on Merlin’s shoulder.
Morgana wore full armour, sword already drawn, helm under one arm.
“You better not let my father catch you out in trousers and armour,” Arthur said. “Hardly proper attire for a lady of the court.”
“No need to make excuses, Arthur,” she said with a sweet smile. “If you’re afraid to fight me, just say so. But I’ll not stand by and watch you beat Merlin for your own sick pleasure.” She looked to Merlin, and her smile turned genuine. “Don’t worry, Merlin, you don’t have to endure this any longer.”
“Er, thanks?” he said, and Arthur shot him a withering look.
Morgana fit her helm over her hair and came to stand before Arthur, sword at the ready. Merlin backed off, trying to make himself inconspicuous.
“And why do you care what happens to Merlin?” Arthur sneered.
“Don’t say it, don’t say it....” Merlin muttered under his breath.
“I love him,” Morgana declared.
Merlin very much wished the earth would swallow him up, but nothing so fortuitous happened. Instead, Arthur said, “Oh yeah? Well, you can’t have him.”
Arthur struck first, but Morgana sidestepped easily, and Arthur’s momentum made him stagger. She brought her own blade around smartly, and Arthur was hard-pressed to get his shield up in time.
Merlin sat down a safe distance away and watched, trying to work feeling back into his numb fingers. The pair were surprisingly well-matched; Arthur was heavier and stronger, but Morgana was faster and kept luring Arthur in with a seeming opening, only to trap him. Once she caught his ankle with her own and sent him sprawling.
“He’s not yours to do with as you please,” she spat as he collected himself.
“Actually, yes, he is. That’s sort of what being my servant means,” Arthur said and lunged.
“Servant, not slave!” Morgana parried neatly. “You treat him like rubbish. He deserves better.”
“Have you taken complete leave of your senses?” Arthur said through gritted teeth. “And you think you should be the one to give him what he deserves?”
“Yes.” She grunted as Arthur got under her shield and elbowed her in the stomach. “I'm what he deserves.”
“Maybe I’m not what he deserves -- just what he wants!”
Morgana screeched in outrage and renewed her attack. Merlin was trying to think of a way to explain how Arthur had come to be chopped into very small pieces when Gwen ran onto the field.
“Stop it, stop it, both of you!” she cried, throwing herself between the combatants. “Are you trying to kill each other?”
Arthur stepped back, breathing heavily. “Tempting, very tempting. Your mistress doesn’t know to stay out of affairs that don’t concern her. I was merely administering a little correction.”
Morgana would have thrown herself at Arthur again, but Gwen grabbed her arm, restraining her.
“Lady, Uther has called for you. And we had better hurry, you’re in no state to be seen now,” Gwen said.
Morgana hesitated but then let Gwen drag her away. She threw a glare in Arthur’s direction and called over her shoulder, “This isn’t over, Pendragon.”
---
Merlin trailed after Arthur as he made his way up to his room, keeping a safe distance and hoping to go unnoticed.
Arthur stopped on the landing, and Merlin nearly ran into him.
“Nothing but friendship, hm?” he said, his voice flat.
“It's just some idea she's got into her head. It'll pass in a few days, I'm sure,” Merlin tried, backing up as far as he could on the narrow landing.
“What aren't you telling me, Merlin?” Arthur leant in, and Merlin thought he might strike him. He flinched, screwing his eyes shut in anticipation. Arthur grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pushed him into the wall. Merlin braced himself, but Arthur didn't hit him, his mouth catching Merlin's instead. He started to protest, but Arthur took Merlin's lip between his teeth, nipping sharply. Merlin whimpered, the pain jolting through him and becoming something more like pleasure.
Arthur's hand came up between Merlin's legs, and Merlin squirmed, both trying to escape the touch and encourage it. He tipped his head away, and Arthur worked along his chin to the point of his jaw.
“Please, Arthur,” he whispered brokenly as Arthur licked his pulse. “Please. Stop.”
Arthur hesitated, his lips still pressed to Merlin's neck. Finally he stepped away, flushing, his lips wet. Merlin struggled to catch his breath.
“You want me,” Arthur said, his tone making it an accusation. Then he added, a note of uncertainty creeping in, “I know you do.”
Merlin swallowed hard and forced himself to look Arthur in the eye. “No.”
Arthur's demeanour changed, shoulders squaring, chin coming up haughtily. “I don't require you services this evening. You may retire.”
He stalked up the stairs, leaving Merlin staring after him.
---
“Gaius, I need your help.” Merlin drew a steadying breath. “I’ve done a ... not-good thing.”
Gaius blinked, his finger holding his place in his book. “A not-good thing?”
“A bad thing,” Merlin clarified. “A really bad thing.”
Gaius sighed heavily and closed the book, sitting back. “And what is it that you’ve done?”
“I maybe made a love potion. And Morgana may have drunk it by accident.”
“Oh dear.”
“That’s not the worst of it. Arthur may have drunk it too.”
“Also an accident?” Gaius asked carefully.
“Yes, of course.” Merlin slumped onto the bench. “There have been rather a lot of accidents lately.”
“So it seems.” Gaius reached for the flagon of wine and poured himself a generous glass. “How was it that both Morgana and Arthur came to drink this potion?”
Merlin did his best to explain about the scullery maid and the groom and his original plan and how it had all gone so horribly, horribly wrong. “And then they were fighting over me! With swords!”
“How very romantic,” Gaius observed.
“My virtue is in very serious danger of being compromised,” Merlin said miserably. “It’s only a matter of time before one of them catches me off-guard.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Gaius said, and though his tone was serious enough, a hint of a smile hid about the corners of his mouth. “Anything but your virtue. Well now, let’s see this spell you used.”
Merlin fetched the book and waited as Gaius muttered to himself. He fought the urge to pace, his fingers drumming against the tabletop.
“Well,” Gaius said finally. “I shouldn’t think it will be that hard to break. In fact, I know just the thing.”
“Oh thank you, Gaius,” Merlin exhaled. “You’re brilliant.”
“But, Merlin,” Gaius said, his brows knitting. “I must extract a promise that you won’t ever try something like this again. Love spells are not toys, you know. And if Uther....”
“I know, I know, and I swear never to do anything so stupid again.” Merlin held up his right hand to demonstrate his sincerity.
Gaius harrumphed in a way that suggested he did not entirely believe Merlin, but went about gathering the ingredients for the counter-spell. Or ingredient; there was just one.
“Water?” Merlin asked, unimpressed. “That’s it?”
“We’ll put a charm on it, of course. But water is excellent for both purifying and dissolving magics of all kinds. And, of course, washing -- but you wouldn't know about that.”
Merlin stood by as Gaius muttered a short incantation over the water. He poured it into a small flask.
“There. Now go see if you can’t get her to drink that -- just a few drops will do -- before she does anything really unfortunate.”
---
“Hello, Lady Morgana,” Merlin said and held a bottle of wine aloft. “Care for a drink?”
She smiled and ushered him in. “I’m so sorry about that unpleasantness with Arthur earlier.”
“Me, too,” Merlin said and went to the table to pour two goblets of wine. “Let’s put this all behind us.”
She raised her goblet in a toast. “To the future.”
“The future.” Merlin bit his lip and watched as she brought the goblet to her mouth and drank deeply.
She lowered her glass and licked her lips. Her brow furrowed. “What am I ... where is Gwen?”
“I think she’s in the kitchen.”
“I -- I need to see her. Right now,” she said, her skirts swishing as she left.
“I'm a bit surprised that worked, actually,” Merlin announced to the empty room. He collected the laced wine and stared at it for a moment, a strange ache settling behind his sternum.
One down, one to go.
---
Merlin knocked on Arthur's door, forcing himself to stand and wait and not find some place dark to hide. There was no answer, and for a moment he was relieved. Then he tried again, more forcefully.
“Bugger off!” came Arthur's eloquent reply.
“Sire?” Merlin cleared his throat. “Sire, it's me.”
“How many times do you have to be told to go away?”
“You can tell me as many times as you'd like, but I'm not going to do it,” Merlin called, trying to sound as though he meant it. “Not until you hear me out.”
There was a lengthy pause and then the door swung violently open. Arthur blocked the way, the neck of his shirt undone and a wild look in his eye.
“You have no claim on my time or attention,” he told Merlin. “Why is it that every other servant in the castle grasps this, but the concept continues to elude you?”
“Well, I--”
“It was rhetorical.”
“Look, Arthur, just ... give me a few minutes to explain.” Arthur didn't move, but waited expectantly. “It would be easier to do this in privacy.”
Arthur turned and stalked to the window, his arms crossed. Merlin entered the room and shut the door behind himself. Busying himself with pouring a glass of wine, he stole a glance at Arthur, whose jaw was clenched, hands gripping the sill.
“Say what you've come to say.” Arthur didn't turn from the window.
Merlin took the goblet up. “Arthur, I'm sorry.”
“If that's if that's all you've got, you can leave.”
“It's not.” He approached Arthur carefully. “One more thing. Or two, actually.” He touched Arthur on the shoulder, and Arthur turned, still refusing to meet Merlin's eyes. Mindful of the wine glass in his hand, Merlin kissed him. The kiss was more chin than mouth, but it was the last Merlin was going to get, and he savoured it. Arthur didn't pull away, but he didn't return it either.
When Merlin broke the kiss, Arthur said, “What was that?”
“The first thing.” Merlin pressed the goblet into Arthur's hand. “Here, have a drink.”
Arthur's gaze dropped to the goblet and then returned to Merlin. “What's the second thing?”
“Drink first.”
Arthur was clearly on the verge of tossing Merlin out, but he heaved a heavy sigh and drained the goblet. “There,” he said. “Any other demands?”
“No,” Merlin said, waiting for ... anger? Horror? Disgust? He wasn't sure what to expect, and none of those things seemed to be happening, anyway.
Instead, Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you playing at, Merlin? You've already said you don't return my affections, though kissing me seems to be a colossal case of mixed signals.” He set the goblet on the window sill and braced his hands against it. “If you want to be released from service, go with my blessing. I'll see you settled in Ealdor or wherever you want to go.” He cast a sidelong glance at Merlin. “If you stay, I promise not to burden you with ... my attentions. I've managed them thus far. It was watching you spurn Morgana that made me think--” He cut himself off and shook his head.
“Wait,” Merlin said, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. “Did you drink that potion in Gaius' study this morning?”
“Why would I do such a thing?” Arthur asked, bewildered.
“There was that tonic. It smelled of strawberries, remember? It affects a person's ability to think clearly. It got mixed up with Morgana's sleeping draught.”
Arthur straightened as he put the pieces together, and then he gave Merlin a pained look. “And you thought I was daft enough to just drink whatever happened to be sitting out in a physician's workroom?”
“Um,” Merlin said. “I didn't think of it like that, no.”
“How exactly did you think of it, then?” Arthur said, infinitely weary.
“It's just ... why else would you want me?” Merlin said, his voice breaking on the last word.
Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but he said nothing and shut it again. “So when you said you weren't interested....” he said finally.
“I didn't want you do anything you would regret later,” Merlin answered.
Arthur moved in slowly, cautiously, giving Merlin time to stop him. Merlin let his eyes drift closed, holding perfectly still. He could feel Arthur's breath on his face as he whispered, “I want you, Merlin.” His lips found Merlin's in a light kiss.
“Except when you want to thrash me?” Merlin said against Arthur's mouth, and Merlin felt him smile.
“Oh, especially when I want to thrash you.”
Merlin twined his arms around Arthur's neck. “Mmm, romantic.”
Arthur didn't bother to answer. At least, not in words.
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Gwen, Morgana/Merlin -- sort of
Words: 6,500
Rating: PG-13
Beta: Many thanks to strainconductor and
serotonin_storm
Summary: Gaius had warned Merlin about manipulating others' emotions with magic. “Magic used for selfish purposes never ends well,” he'd said. But this, Merlin was confident, didn't count.
Gaius had warned Merlin about manipulating others' emotions with magic. “Magic used for selfish purposes never ends well,” he'd said.
But this, Merlin was confident, didn't count.
Firstly, it wasn't really a love potion. More of an infatuation potion, when you thought about it. Merlin had been very careful with the recipe, giving it just enough of a kick to inspire a little passion.
And secondly, he wasn't using it for selfish ends at all. A scullery maid had been shirking her duties to sulk ever since one of the grooms had snubbed her. Merlin was certain that she was more enamoured of her own heart-broken state than the boy in question, and if the groom were to suddenly return her affections, she would come to her senses rather quickly. Meanwhile, the potion would wear off in a few days, and the boy could go back to staring at himself in reflective surfaces.
So, in a way, it was a public service -- his duty, even. And if it meant Merlin was no longer stuck running the girl's errands while she hid in the cellar and wept, well, that was just as side benefit.
It was one of Merlin's better plans, and he took a moment to appreciate his work as he decanted a little of the potion into a vial. His mouth watered at the strong the scent of strawberries, and he stoppered it quickly.
The trickiest part of his plan was that, having consumed the potion, the victim would fall in love, er, infatuation with the first person they saw afterwards. He'd looked for a spell that could target a specific individual, but unfortunately, those were all powerful love spells, difficult to break and dangerous to attempt.
This spell amounted to a bottle of wine and some flattering lighting. He set the small bottle down with a feeling of satisfaction. It couldn't be too hard to ensure the potion went to the right person.
“Merlin!”
Merlin jumped, knocking over the vial. He scrambled to put it to rights as Arthur clapped him on the shoulder.
“Yes, can I help you?” Merlin inquired with a strained smile.
“I need a sparring partner. Go get your kit on.”
“What, now?”
“No, I was thinking sometime next week. How's Thursday?” Arthur said, irritated. “Yes, of course now.”
“Because, you see, I've actually got something I rather need to do this afternoon. Can't you rope one of the knights into being your punching bag?”
“Merlin,” Arthur said, the warning evident in his tone. “They've got the afternoon off. You haven't.”
“But....” Merlin protested weakly, but Arthur was already leaving, the argument settled.
Merlin rose and trailed after him reluctantly.
---
Merlin didn't mind that Arthur always won; it was that he won so easily that rankled. Badly out of breath, sweat dripping into his eyes and his ears ringing with the last blow he'd taken, Merlin wondered just what sort of appeal this held for Arthur.
“You should have seen that last one coming.” Arthur danced from side to side, grinning fiercely under his helm.
“Can I have five minutes, please?” Merlin said as soon as he'd got enough breath for it. “I'm about to keel over.”
Arthur stopped with the bobbing-and-weaving bit. “Oh, yes, fine. Honestly, Merlin. Morgana had more stamina when she was twelve.”
Merlin collapsed where he was, dropping his sword and shield. “Surely you get enough practice with the knights' regular exercise.”
“This isn't practice,” Arthur corrected, removing his helm. “I'd have to fight someone halfway decent for it to be practice.” He carefully sheathed his sword and sat down next to Merlin. “This is just letting off steam.”
Arthur's fair skin was flushed with the exertion, damp hair curling a bit behind his ears. Merlin's fingers itched to reach out and tweak it. He sat on them just to be sure, but maybe his face betrayed him: Arthur was giving him a strange look.
“Wouldn't a sturdy post serve as well?” Merlin said crossly. “And bruise less easily?”
Arthur smirked, making a show of pulling off his gloves. “But they'd be considerably less fun to rough up. Besides, you need toughening.”
Merlin sank back into the grass, which was wonderfully soft and springy and tickled his neck. His limbs ached, and it was indescribably lovely to lie there and do nothing but watch a wisp of cloud drift by. His eyes closed. An insect buzzed somewhere nearby.
“Merlin.”
Merlin cracked open first one eye and then the other. Arthur loomed over him. His lips -- very pink, Merlin noted -- were pursed in displeasure.
“Get up.”
“Can't.” Merlin closed his eyes. “I'm dead. You've killed me.”
Arthur snorted. “A pity. You're replaceable, but it's an inconvenience.” He seized Merlin's wrists, and his calloused fingers were rough and hot. “Up you go.” He heaved, but Merlin sagged bonelessly, becoming dead weight, and Arthur failed to get him very far.
“Enough,” Arthur said, bracing himself for a better effort. “I'm ready for another round.”
“Then it's too bad I'm dead,” Merlin said, refusing to cooperate. “Very sad.”
Arthur hauled mightily upwards and succeeded in getting Merlin halfway up. Merlin yanked backwards suddenly, and they both toppled over, Arthur landing on top of Merlin, the hilt of his sword catching Merlin in the ribs.
“Ow!” Merlin yelped.
Arthur pushed himself up, a hand braced on either side of Merlin's head. Merlin's mouth went very dry.
“It's a good thing you're dead, because if you weren't, I would kill you,” Arthur said, but he didn't sound angry. With a final grimace, he got up.
This time Merlin scrambled up without further complaint.
---
Gaius was puttering about his work table when Merlin returned.
“Had a good day?” he asked gently, taking in Merlin's dishevelled, sweaty appearance.
“He treats his horse with more concern,” Merlin complained, going to the cupboard to retrieve the jar of cassia ointment for his aching shoulders.
“I'm sure he appreciates your efforts in his service,” Gaius said. Merlin couldn't tell if he was serious or not. “And thank you for mixing up Morgana's draught. You'll be glad to know I've spared you the trip and already delivered it.”
“Thanks, Gaius.” Merlin pushed aside several bottles, rummaging through the cupboard. He paused, a jar of lavender tincture in hand. “... Wait, what draught?”
“The one you left on the table like I asked you this morning.”
Merlin turned slowly. The vial of Morgana's sleeping draught was in his room, where he'd left it last night.
“Is something wrong, Merlin? You look rather pale.”
“Nothing's wrong,” Merlin said quickly. “I, ah, remembered that I should go help Arthur. Now, actually.”
“Well, if you must--” Gaius said, but Merlin was already gone.
---
Merlin leaned against the wall outside Morgana’s room, trying to catch his breath. His concern was out of proportion. Morgana would notice the sudden change in the potion's colour; she wouldn't actually drink it.
He hesitated, his knuckles poised above the door, and then knocked. There wasn’t an answer, and he tried again, jittering in impatience.
The door swung open, revealing a cool and collected Morgana.
“Merlin?” she asked, her forehead creasing in concern. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not really,” he gulped, relief washing over him. “It’s just, there’s been a mix-up--”
“Are you sure you’re quite well?” She reached out to press the back of her hand to his forehead. “You’re positively feverish.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I just ran up here from Gaius’ room.” Her hand lingered, trailing down his temple. His heart sank as she tenderly cupped the side of his face.
“You ran up here to see me? How sweet.”
“No! Not sweet, not sweet at all -- I made a horrible mistake with your sleeping draught. I don’t suppose you haven’t--”
“It tasted different this time, rather an improvement. Like strawberries.” She licked her lips slowly. Merlin flushed and grabbed her wrist before her fingers could tangle in his hair.
“I should go,” he tried, but she’d taken a firm hold on his arm, ushering him into the room. He would have resisted, but a maid with a stack of folded linens rounded the corner at the end of the hall.
He didn't want any witnesses.
Once inside, Morgana shut the door and leant against it. Her dressing gown had worked itself loose, and she wore a thin chemise underneath. A very thin chemise, Merlin noticed, quickly dragging his gaze back to her face.
“Merlin, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate that you always look out for me,” she said, somewhat breathily. She stepped forward, and Merlin retreated, stumbling into the table and nearly falling.
“Oh, it’s really no problem. No problem at all. In fact, I do it for everyone.” He righted himself and put the table between them.
“But does anyone ever thank you for it?” Morgana idly twirled a lock of hair around her fingers and blinked rapidly; she was batting her eyelashes at him, Merlin realised in horror.
“Well ...” Merlin started, “no, they don’t. Not that I mind.”
She shook her head sadly. “Arthur doesn’t appreciate all you do for him.”
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck as he considered. “It is my job, so I suppose it’s all right....”
“He takes you for granted. It’s not fair.” She rounded the table, her fingers trailing along its edge.
“It’s not!” Merlin agreed, feeling vindicated. “Just today he made me spar with him, and he only does it because beating one of the practice dummies isn’t as satisfying. Now I’m bruised black and blue.” Merlin rubbed a particularly vicious welt on his arm at the memory.
“There, there. You poor thing. Hush now.” The hug surprised Merlin, and it took him a moment to collect himself. It was actually rather nice. Morgana was all ... soft, and she smelled sort of flowery. “I’ll speak to him. He can’t keep treating you like this.” She rubbed his back, and that wasn’t bad either.
Merlin’s eyes widened as he registered her hand drifting lower down his back to cup his--
The sound of crockery shattering startled them both. Merlin twisted, freeing himself from Morgana’s embrace.
Gwen stood, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, shards of pottery and a spreading puddle of water at her feet. “Oh! I’m sorry -- I just, I should have knocked. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I am so, so sorry. Won’t happen again.” The water must have soaked through the toes of her slippers, because she suddenly looked down, noticing the mess. “I’ll just clean this up, shall I? Or I could wait and come back later?”
“It’s all right, Gwen. You’re not interrupting,” Merlin assured her, guilt and gratitude washing over him in equal measure. “I was just leaving.”
Behind him Morgana made a little noise of protest, but she didn’t try to restrain him as he skirted around a painfully red Gwen and escaped.
---
He attended Arthur at breakfast the following morning, making a point to avoid eye contact with Morgana. Which was difficult, as she kept waving a napkin at him. When he was obliged to fill her goblet, she held it nearly out of reach, forcing him to lean over her.
He straightened awkwardly and caught Arthur watching him, handsome features marred by a frown. Merlin gave a little shrug and hurried off to the kitchen to fetch more bread.
He left breakfast with Morgana hot on his heels, but he lost her by hiding in a broom closet. Thankfully, Arthur had a hunting trip planned, and for once, Merlin was only too happy to spend the day mucking about in the underbrush.
“Shall we turn back now?” Arthur asked after a quick lunch. “We've already got quite a brace of rabbits.”
“Why go back now?” Merlin asked. “The day's not even half done.”
Arthur's eyes narrowed. “You're never this keen to hunt.”
“What, no...? I love killing things. Always have.” But Arthur's suspicious look didn't improve.
“What are you avoiding?”
“Nothing,” Merlin insisted a little too vehemently.
“All right,” Arthur said. “We can stay out the rest of the afternoon -- but only if you spar with me tomorrow. And no complaints.”
Merlin bit his lip; it was a hard bargain. “Deal,” he sighed finally, remembering Morgana's wandering hands.
Arthur snorted. “You must be desperate.” He cocked his head to the side as he considered. “So what are you avoiding?”
“Gaius wants me to help him distil the muckwort. It's foul.”
“Lying,” Arthur singsonged. “I can always tell when you're lying. You can't keep secrets from me.”
“Is that so,” Merlin said wryly, reaching for the water.
“Mm hm,” Arthur confirmed with a grin that made Merlin ache just a little. He handed the flask over, and Merlin drank thirstily to keep from looking at him.
---
Luck was with Merlin that evening: Arthur was content to eat supper in his room, and Merlin made it safely back to his own quarters without seeing anyone. He collapsed into bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
---
“Merlin....”
Merlin sighed, his brain foggy with sleep. It was still dark, far too early to be up and about. He blinked slowly, and Morgana's face came into focus above him, her skin ghostly in the weak moonlight.
“Gah!” he cried, tried to stand, got tangled in the blankets and landed arse-first on the floor. “What are you doing here? Er, my Lady,” he tacked on as an afterthought.
She peered down at him in concern, strands of her hair brushing against his face. “I couldn't bear to be apart any longer. Dearest, darling Merlin, I must tell you how I feel.”
Merlin extracted himself from the bedding and rubbed his bruised backside. “D'you find anything ... strange about this? I mean, it's all very sudden.”
Morgana pushed her hair over her shoulder as she considered. “I confess I've never been interested in someone like you before--”
“A servant?” Merlin asked.
“A man.” Merlin choked, but she was going on, “Even now I can't quite believe it.” A confused look crossed her face, but then she shook herself a little and her coy expression returned. “But the heart wants what it wants.” She crooked her finger, beckoning him forward.
“Look, Morgana, I'm flattered, but I just don't think this is a good idea.” Her expression darkened and he hastened to add, “Think of your reputation. And Uther would kill me.”
He winced to think of it, and Uther's wrath was enough to give even Morgana pause.
“Oh,” she said, and then, reaching out for him, “We'll just have to be careful.”
He took her hands, but instead of letting her pull him down, he levered her to her feet, carefully sidestepping to avoid another embrace. “I just can't. In good conscience, I mean. I'll just have to pine from afar. Far, far afar.” He pushed her gently -- but insistently -- towards the door. “It's going to be hard, for both of us. But we must be strong and stay away from each other.”
He guided her to the hallway, pushed her out the door, and, with a quick, “Good night,”
he shut the door in her face and locked it.
He waited until he heard her footsteps retreat, and then he went and slept in the stables.
---
He hid with the horses until after breakfast. Arthur would doubtless note his absence, but any punishment was worth it -- even the stocks. Then again, if Morgana found him in the stocks ... vulnerable, helpless, exposed ... he pushed the thought away.
He took the long way ‘round to get back into the castle, skirting the vegetable garden behind the kitchen. He heard something and stopped short: someone was crying. After a moment’s hesitation, he turned from the castle and started hunting through the bushes.
He rounded the chicken coop, and his heart sank. Gwen.
She sat, her knees drawn up to her chest, head pillowed on her arms. Her shoulders shook as her voice caught on another sob.
“Gwen,” Merlin said, and she looked up, startled.
She tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. “Oh, hello, Merlin. Sorry, I was just coming in. Do you need something?” She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.
He shook his head and took a seat beside her, tugging his neckerchief loose and handing it to her. She accepted it with a sniffle.
“So.” Merlin carefully scraped dirt out from under his thumbnail.
“I’m sorry,” Gwen hiccoughed. “I’m happy for you, really.”
“It'd be easier to believe that if you could say it without crying.” Merlin continued over her protest, “Gwen. There’s nothing between me and Morgana.”
“Funny, that’s not the impression I got. You two seemed uncommonly close yesterday. And she won’t stop talking about you.”
“It’s not real, she’s,” and he lowered his voice to a whisper, “enchanted.”
Gwen’s brow knit in uncertainty. “Enchanted?”
He nodded emphatically. “How else could she go for me? Definitely a spell.”
She blinked, her eyes rimmed in red. “Why would anyone want Morgana to fall in love with you?”
“Well, you know. Sorcerers are a shifty lot. Probably hoping to disgrace Morgana and embarrass Uther.” Gwen looked horrified. “Don’t worry, I’m working on it -- I mean, Gaius is working on it. We’ll have her right as rain in no time. Meanwhile, maybe keep this is as quiet as you can?”
She nodded, but her pained expression didn’t ease. “What if it’s not a spell? Oh Merlin, I don’t think I could live if she didn’t love me anymore....” She buried her face in the neckerchief.
He put a hesitant arm around her shoulders, and she turned, clutching the front of his shirt. He sighed and gathered her in his arms, her head tucked neatly under his chin. “Hush now. It’ll be all right, I promise you.” He rocked her gently, and she quieted after a bit. “Go and get yourself cleaned up,” he said when another crying bout no longer seemed imminent.
She nodded and stood, running her hands over her hair. “Am I presentable?”
He smiled. “Yeah, very.”
“Thank you, Merlin. What would I do without you?”
“Something tells me you’d get on well enough.”
---
Gaius was out on his rounds when Merlin returned, and Merlin wasted no time retrieving the magic book from its hiding spot. The antidote always went hand in hand with the poison.
He got out the remaining potion and poured a bit into a shallow bowl. The scent of strawberries was overpowering as he leafed through the magic book, looking for a promising counter-potion. The book suggested hazelwood as a dissolving agent. He added a few drops.
The potion thickened and turned yellow. And started to smoke.
Merlin choked on the oily, black smoke, the acrid stench of singed hair burning the back of his throat. He dumped a glass of water over it, but that only made matters worse, so he opened a window and waited it out.
On the next trial, he was a little more cautious, but that one didn't do anything at all. And here Merlin realised his problem: the only way to see if he'd got it right was for Morgana to drink it, and he couldn't very well go around asking her to drink strange potions without her getting curious as to why. If they all turned out like this, he couldn't even slip it in her wine -- it would surely settle to the bottom.
He sighed, propping his head in his hand and staring at the half-empty bottle as if it might suddenly start cooperating.
“Did you forget your promise? Or did you hope that I would?”
Merlin jumped. Arthur stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, the sleeves of his shirt rolled past his elbows.
“Oh, I didn't forget,” Merlin protested, but Arthur saw through it. “I just got caught up ... working on something.”
Arthur sauntered over, and Merlin surreptitiously slid the book off the edge of the table, catching it with magic and easing it down onto the bench beside him, cover down.
“What is this?” Arthur asked, picking up the love potion and sniffing it curiously.
“Don't! Er, please don't touch that,” Merlin said, taking the bottle from Arthur and setting it back down. “It's, uh, a cure for ... warts.”
“Oh,” Arthur said, losing interest.
“Give me a moment, and I'll be ready. Then you can beat me to a pulp to your heart's content.”
“Excellent.” Arthur perched on the edge of the table, fiddling curiously with a jar of dried something-or-other.
His palms sweating, Merlin carefully straightened a few of the instruments and then picked up the book, casually shielding it from view with his body. Arthur wasn't paying attention as Merlin retreated to his room and quickly stashed the book away.
He returned, brushing his hands off. “Ready. Let's go bash my head in.”
Arthur still sat on the table. He was watching Merlin with a curious expression.
“Morgana seems to have grown quite fond of you. Apparently,” Arthur said, shaking his head in wonderment.
The blood drained from Merlin's face, but he plastered on a weak smile. “What's not to like?” He passed Arthur, making for the door, but Arthur reached out and caught his wrist. Merlin tried to tug free, but Arthur just tightened his grip.
“The truth, now: what is between you and the Lady Morgana?”
“Nothing but friendship,” Merlin said, his throat dry.
Arthur searched Merlin's face and then -- whatever he found there -- he leant in and kissed Merlin, full on the mouth.
Merlin leant into the kiss, his hand coming up automatically to curl around the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur dropped Merlin’s wrist, but only so his arm could twine around Merlin’s waist, pulling him in close. Merlin moaned a little, his mouth opening under Arthur’s.
A niggling thought arose in the back of Merlin’s mind. He tried to ignore it as his fingers combed through Arthur’s hair. The thought grew more insistent, and Merlin reluctantly broke the kiss.
Arthur tried to take his mouth again, but Merlin evaded, and Arthur kissed his ear instead.
“Mmmm,” Merlin said, steeling himself. “Arthur, you haven’t, you didn’t ... drink that potion, did you?”
“Hmm?” Arthur said distractedly. “God, you’re beautiful. How did I never notice?”
Merlin’s heart sank like a stone, and he released Arthur, pushing him away when he didn’t do the same.
“We can’t do this,” Merlin said, and it took everything he had to say it. Confusion clouded over Arthur’s face.
“Why not?” he asked with a laugh of incredulity. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to.”
“It’s just ... not right,” Merlin finished weakly. Arthur snorted and moved towards him again. Merlin backed away, and that brought Arthur up short. His amused expression turned ugly, mouth twisting downward.
“I’m not going to force you,” he said. “You needn’t worry.”
“It’s not that,” Merlin said hastily. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh really?” Arthur’s brow rose, and he leered, “Are you sure about that?”
Merlin flushed. “I didn’t mean physically. I’m sure you’re very good -- er, never mind. But we -- but I -- can’t. Believe me, Arthur, please.”
Arthur drew a sharp breath, his jaw clenched, and Merlin feared he would argue. Instead, he turned on his heel, tension written in the line of his shoulders. “Come on, unless you’re going to try and get out of sparring.”
Merlin nodded mutely and followed, comforting himself with the thought of his preserved principles.
---
Next time his principles could sod off, Merlin swore as Arthur worked out a considerable amount of rage. Turning Arthur down and then handing him a sword had to be the daftest thing Merlin had ever done. And that was saying something.
Merlin got his shield up in time to block Arthur’s swing, but his arm vibrated with the impact, and his fingers were going numb. He gave ground as Arthur struck again and again, without seeming to tire.
Merlin had always assumed that Arthur hadn’t been holding back in their previous bouts -- an assumption which was quickly proving erroneous. He’d long since given up trying to return Arthur’s blows, and now he just settled for avoiding as many as possible, Arthur chasing him around the field.
“How about if you pick on someone who can fight back, you bully?”
They both turned in surprise, but not before Arthur got a sharp rap in on Merlin’s shoulder.
Morgana wore full armour, sword already drawn, helm under one arm.
“You better not let my father catch you out in trousers and armour,” Arthur said. “Hardly proper attire for a lady of the court.”
“No need to make excuses, Arthur,” she said with a sweet smile. “If you’re afraid to fight me, just say so. But I’ll not stand by and watch you beat Merlin for your own sick pleasure.” She looked to Merlin, and her smile turned genuine. “Don’t worry, Merlin, you don’t have to endure this any longer.”
“Er, thanks?” he said, and Arthur shot him a withering look.
Morgana fit her helm over her hair and came to stand before Arthur, sword at the ready. Merlin backed off, trying to make himself inconspicuous.
“And why do you care what happens to Merlin?” Arthur sneered.
“Don’t say it, don’t say it....” Merlin muttered under his breath.
“I love him,” Morgana declared.
Merlin very much wished the earth would swallow him up, but nothing so fortuitous happened. Instead, Arthur said, “Oh yeah? Well, you can’t have him.”
Arthur struck first, but Morgana sidestepped easily, and Arthur’s momentum made him stagger. She brought her own blade around smartly, and Arthur was hard-pressed to get his shield up in time.
Merlin sat down a safe distance away and watched, trying to work feeling back into his numb fingers. The pair were surprisingly well-matched; Arthur was heavier and stronger, but Morgana was faster and kept luring Arthur in with a seeming opening, only to trap him. Once she caught his ankle with her own and sent him sprawling.
“He’s not yours to do with as you please,” she spat as he collected himself.
“Actually, yes, he is. That’s sort of what being my servant means,” Arthur said and lunged.
“Servant, not slave!” Morgana parried neatly. “You treat him like rubbish. He deserves better.”
“Have you taken complete leave of your senses?” Arthur said through gritted teeth. “And you think you should be the one to give him what he deserves?”
“Yes.” She grunted as Arthur got under her shield and elbowed her in the stomach. “I'm what he deserves.”
“Maybe I’m not what he deserves -- just what he wants!”
Morgana screeched in outrage and renewed her attack. Merlin was trying to think of a way to explain how Arthur had come to be chopped into very small pieces when Gwen ran onto the field.
“Stop it, stop it, both of you!” she cried, throwing herself between the combatants. “Are you trying to kill each other?”
Arthur stepped back, breathing heavily. “Tempting, very tempting. Your mistress doesn’t know to stay out of affairs that don’t concern her. I was merely administering a little correction.”
Morgana would have thrown herself at Arthur again, but Gwen grabbed her arm, restraining her.
“Lady, Uther has called for you. And we had better hurry, you’re in no state to be seen now,” Gwen said.
Morgana hesitated but then let Gwen drag her away. She threw a glare in Arthur’s direction and called over her shoulder, “This isn’t over, Pendragon.”
---
Merlin trailed after Arthur as he made his way up to his room, keeping a safe distance and hoping to go unnoticed.
Arthur stopped on the landing, and Merlin nearly ran into him.
“Nothing but friendship, hm?” he said, his voice flat.
“It's just some idea she's got into her head. It'll pass in a few days, I'm sure,” Merlin tried, backing up as far as he could on the narrow landing.
“What aren't you telling me, Merlin?” Arthur leant in, and Merlin thought he might strike him. He flinched, screwing his eyes shut in anticipation. Arthur grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pushed him into the wall. Merlin braced himself, but Arthur didn't hit him, his mouth catching Merlin's instead. He started to protest, but Arthur took Merlin's lip between his teeth, nipping sharply. Merlin whimpered, the pain jolting through him and becoming something more like pleasure.
Arthur's hand came up between Merlin's legs, and Merlin squirmed, both trying to escape the touch and encourage it. He tipped his head away, and Arthur worked along his chin to the point of his jaw.
“Please, Arthur,” he whispered brokenly as Arthur licked his pulse. “Please. Stop.”
Arthur hesitated, his lips still pressed to Merlin's neck. Finally he stepped away, flushing, his lips wet. Merlin struggled to catch his breath.
“You want me,” Arthur said, his tone making it an accusation. Then he added, a note of uncertainty creeping in, “I know you do.”
Merlin swallowed hard and forced himself to look Arthur in the eye. “No.”
Arthur's demeanour changed, shoulders squaring, chin coming up haughtily. “I don't require you services this evening. You may retire.”
He stalked up the stairs, leaving Merlin staring after him.
---
“Gaius, I need your help.” Merlin drew a steadying breath. “I’ve done a ... not-good thing.”
Gaius blinked, his finger holding his place in his book. “A not-good thing?”
“A bad thing,” Merlin clarified. “A really bad thing.”
Gaius sighed heavily and closed the book, sitting back. “And what is it that you’ve done?”
“I maybe made a love potion. And Morgana may have drunk it by accident.”
“Oh dear.”
“That’s not the worst of it. Arthur may have drunk it too.”
“Also an accident?” Gaius asked carefully.
“Yes, of course.” Merlin slumped onto the bench. “There have been rather a lot of accidents lately.”
“So it seems.” Gaius reached for the flagon of wine and poured himself a generous glass. “How was it that both Morgana and Arthur came to drink this potion?”
Merlin did his best to explain about the scullery maid and the groom and his original plan and how it had all gone so horribly, horribly wrong. “And then they were fighting over me! With swords!”
“How very romantic,” Gaius observed.
“My virtue is in very serious danger of being compromised,” Merlin said miserably. “It’s only a matter of time before one of them catches me off-guard.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Gaius said, and though his tone was serious enough, a hint of a smile hid about the corners of his mouth. “Anything but your virtue. Well now, let’s see this spell you used.”
Merlin fetched the book and waited as Gaius muttered to himself. He fought the urge to pace, his fingers drumming against the tabletop.
“Well,” Gaius said finally. “I shouldn’t think it will be that hard to break. In fact, I know just the thing.”
“Oh thank you, Gaius,” Merlin exhaled. “You’re brilliant.”
“But, Merlin,” Gaius said, his brows knitting. “I must extract a promise that you won’t ever try something like this again. Love spells are not toys, you know. And if Uther....”
“I know, I know, and I swear never to do anything so stupid again.” Merlin held up his right hand to demonstrate his sincerity.
Gaius harrumphed in a way that suggested he did not entirely believe Merlin, but went about gathering the ingredients for the counter-spell. Or ingredient; there was just one.
“Water?” Merlin asked, unimpressed. “That’s it?”
“We’ll put a charm on it, of course. But water is excellent for both purifying and dissolving magics of all kinds. And, of course, washing -- but you wouldn't know about that.”
Merlin stood by as Gaius muttered a short incantation over the water. He poured it into a small flask.
“There. Now go see if you can’t get her to drink that -- just a few drops will do -- before she does anything really unfortunate.”
---
“Hello, Lady Morgana,” Merlin said and held a bottle of wine aloft. “Care for a drink?”
She smiled and ushered him in. “I’m so sorry about that unpleasantness with Arthur earlier.”
“Me, too,” Merlin said and went to the table to pour two goblets of wine. “Let’s put this all behind us.”
She raised her goblet in a toast. “To the future.”
“The future.” Merlin bit his lip and watched as she brought the goblet to her mouth and drank deeply.
She lowered her glass and licked her lips. Her brow furrowed. “What am I ... where is Gwen?”
“I think she’s in the kitchen.”
“I -- I need to see her. Right now,” she said, her skirts swishing as she left.
“I'm a bit surprised that worked, actually,” Merlin announced to the empty room. He collected the laced wine and stared at it for a moment, a strange ache settling behind his sternum.
One down, one to go.
---
Merlin knocked on Arthur's door, forcing himself to stand and wait and not find some place dark to hide. There was no answer, and for a moment he was relieved. Then he tried again, more forcefully.
“Bugger off!” came Arthur's eloquent reply.
“Sire?” Merlin cleared his throat. “Sire, it's me.”
“How many times do you have to be told to go away?”
“You can tell me as many times as you'd like, but I'm not going to do it,” Merlin called, trying to sound as though he meant it. “Not until you hear me out.”
There was a lengthy pause and then the door swung violently open. Arthur blocked the way, the neck of his shirt undone and a wild look in his eye.
“You have no claim on my time or attention,” he told Merlin. “Why is it that every other servant in the castle grasps this, but the concept continues to elude you?”
“Well, I--”
“It was rhetorical.”
“Look, Arthur, just ... give me a few minutes to explain.” Arthur didn't move, but waited expectantly. “It would be easier to do this in privacy.”
Arthur turned and stalked to the window, his arms crossed. Merlin entered the room and shut the door behind himself. Busying himself with pouring a glass of wine, he stole a glance at Arthur, whose jaw was clenched, hands gripping the sill.
“Say what you've come to say.” Arthur didn't turn from the window.
Merlin took the goblet up. “Arthur, I'm sorry.”
“If that's if that's all you've got, you can leave.”
“It's not.” He approached Arthur carefully. “One more thing. Or two, actually.” He touched Arthur on the shoulder, and Arthur turned, still refusing to meet Merlin's eyes. Mindful of the wine glass in his hand, Merlin kissed him. The kiss was more chin than mouth, but it was the last Merlin was going to get, and he savoured it. Arthur didn't pull away, but he didn't return it either.
When Merlin broke the kiss, Arthur said, “What was that?”
“The first thing.” Merlin pressed the goblet into Arthur's hand. “Here, have a drink.”
Arthur's gaze dropped to the goblet and then returned to Merlin. “What's the second thing?”
“Drink first.”
Arthur was clearly on the verge of tossing Merlin out, but he heaved a heavy sigh and drained the goblet. “There,” he said. “Any other demands?”
“No,” Merlin said, waiting for ... anger? Horror? Disgust? He wasn't sure what to expect, and none of those things seemed to be happening, anyway.
Instead, Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you playing at, Merlin? You've already said you don't return my affections, though kissing me seems to be a colossal case of mixed signals.” He set the goblet on the window sill and braced his hands against it. “If you want to be released from service, go with my blessing. I'll see you settled in Ealdor or wherever you want to go.” He cast a sidelong glance at Merlin. “If you stay, I promise not to burden you with ... my attentions. I've managed them thus far. It was watching you spurn Morgana that made me think--” He cut himself off and shook his head.
“Wait,” Merlin said, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. “Did you drink that potion in Gaius' study this morning?”
“Why would I do such a thing?” Arthur asked, bewildered.
“There was that tonic. It smelled of strawberries, remember? It affects a person's ability to think clearly. It got mixed up with Morgana's sleeping draught.”
Arthur straightened as he put the pieces together, and then he gave Merlin a pained look. “And you thought I was daft enough to just drink whatever happened to be sitting out in a physician's workroom?”
“Um,” Merlin said. “I didn't think of it like that, no.”
“How exactly did you think of it, then?” Arthur said, infinitely weary.
“It's just ... why else would you want me?” Merlin said, his voice breaking on the last word.
Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but he said nothing and shut it again. “So when you said you weren't interested....” he said finally.
“I didn't want you do anything you would regret later,” Merlin answered.
Arthur moved in slowly, cautiously, giving Merlin time to stop him. Merlin let his eyes drift closed, holding perfectly still. He could feel Arthur's breath on his face as he whispered, “I want you, Merlin.” His lips found Merlin's in a light kiss.
“Except when you want to thrash me?” Merlin said against Arthur's mouth, and Merlin felt him smile.
“Oh, especially when I want to thrash you.”
Merlin twined his arms around Arthur's neck. “Mmm, romantic.”
Arthur didn't bother to answer. At least, not in words.