To a Wild Rose (3/3)

Chapter 3; A Few Hopeful Promises

Arthur didn't sleep at all that night. The ghost came to him and stared at him mournfully with hollow eyes.

The lips moved.

Then the ghost was gone.

He lay back down with a thump and a groan. He was really getting used to having long nights.

--

Lancelot smoothed a hand over the sheets. He repeated this motion several times while Arthur watched him carefully. Finally, he shook his head. "Arthur, I don't see any blood. You must have imagined it." With that, he straightened up. "It was late when you came up here last night, anyway, wasn't it?"

"But there's blood," Arthur insisted, pointing to the stain. "It's still there! The sheets haven't even been changed. Can't you see it?"

"Arthur..."

"I swear, I'm not lying!" Arthur pointed to the sheets. "Father was even limping--"

"Limping?" Lancelot raised a brow. "The Duke looked fine to me. Moreover, Arthur..."

"What?"

"You don't exactly look fine," Lancelot said, placing a steadying hand under Arthur's elbow. "I think you'd better lie down. I'll alert the kitchens and have them bring lunch to your chambers."

--

"You're a little pale, but I think you're fine," Gwen said, giving him a concerned look. "There's no blood on the bed though, I went with Lancelot and checked. Twice."

"But I swear I saw--"

"Arthur, it was late at night," Gwen touched his arm. "You must have been tired. And I may not have the best memory in the world, but I could have sworn that the Duke was fine when he left Chatsworth."

Arthur bit his lip. "...so I'm crazy."

Gwen was quick to shake her head. "Don't say that; you're just tired. You've gone out on rides every day, no wonder you're winding down. A day of rest definitely won't hurt you."

"Or maybe the Marquess really is insane and you're just too nice to tell him so," said Merlin's voice and Arthur snapped his head towards the door. It wasn't just Merlin's voice, it was the whole of Merlin--carrying his lunch. "No wonder he's so spoilt. You people are too good to him."

"Merlin..."

"Don't get so worked up, Marquess." Merlin shut the door with a decisive click behind him. "Just returning the favor, for once. You've pestered me for the better part of your stay."

"Or else Gaius will have your head?" Arthur looked at him.

"Something like that."

Gwen looked between the two of them. "I guess...neither of you will mind very much if I make myself scarce." She headed towards the door and nodded at Merlin. "Please, take care of Arthur."

"I'll try my best," Merlin gave her a vague half-smile of sorts. After Gwen left, he latched the door and joined Arthur on the bed. "And it looks like I will have to end up trying my best because you hardly help your own cause, Arthur."

"Is that you trying to say that you worry about me?" Arthur stared hard at the plate in his lap. "I thought you hated the house. What brought this on?"

"I do. That hasn't changed," Merlin shrugged one shoulder. "I wouldn't have to come check up on you if you weren't so careless. You should have known they couldn't have seen anything. You're a worrisome person."

"I thought they'd be able to see the blood, at least," Arthur said.

"Not if the ghost spilled it." Merlin shook his head. "They probably couldn't see your father's limp either, could they?"

"And now everyone thinks I'm insane."

"Not everyone," Merlin reminded him with a little smile and a gentle kiss to his jaw. "I don't."

"But you're practically crazy on your own already, you don't count." Arthur was not in the best of moods with Merlin this morning--rather, afternoon, it was afternoon, now.

"You hurt my feelings terribly, Marquess." Merlin clicked his tongue at him. "But I suppose you're right. At the end of the day, you are the Duke's son, so you probably can't help yourself."

"I'm nothing like my father," Arthur mumbled into his pillow, trying not to sound as offended as he felt.

"I wouldn't have come within a hundred feet of you if you were anything like the Duke, worry not, Arthur." If anything, Merlin did sound a little too cheerful. "I like to think I'm a fair judge of character."

"That's comforting."

"It should be." Merlin ran a hand through Arthur's hair. "Come now, don't mope. Everyone already thinks I'm a bad influence on you anyway, there's no need to make it any worse. Eat something." He gestured invitingly to the plate.

After a pause, Arthur complied and cut himself a piece of meat.

Merlin studied him. "Perhaps you really are ill."

"Just because I don't have an appetite doesn't mean I'm ill," Arthur reminded him tersely. "Do you even know what this means?"

"What?"

"The ghost is determined to hurt my father, this time he escaped with a limp." Arthur looked at him for a long moment. "I'm still in this house."

"Ah..." Merlin's smile flipped to a half smirk. "The Marquess is afraid of something."

Arthur glared at him. "Whoever said I was scared?" He stared down at his hands. "I'm just saying. If he's a ghost, then I can't touch him if he turns on me. Not exactly fair game."

Merlin nuzzled at his neck. "You forget about magic."

"I certainly don't need you to save me," Arthur said.

"Because it's humiliating?" Merlin raised his eyebrow. "That's too bad, Arthur. I was sort of looking forward to being your white knight in shining armor."

"Shut up."

Merlin leaned forward and kissed him. Arthur smelled mead on Merlin's breath and tasted mead on Merlin's tongue. "As you wish."

--

"I thought this was supposed to be a summer holiday, Arthur." Lancelot looked down at the sword in his hand, rather puzzled. "Time to relax, sleep, swim in the river--" He cut off abruptly at the look that Arthur gave him. "Right, I forget, you don't know how to swim."

Arthur bit his lip. "For that, I hope your footwork's as nimble as ever, Lancelot."

Lancelot took a cautionary step back and shrugged. "I like to think it is," he said with a disarming smile. "You should try me. Don't expect me to go easy because of your little spell this morning."

There was a loud clang of metal as Arthur suddenly sprang forward. "I certainly plan to."

Merlin was watching him from a nearby tree. The tree was large, and Arthur made a mental note to ask him how he got up there so quietly without anyone noticing. Must have been magic--

There was a sudden sharp throb in his arm and Arthur's sword dropped from his hands.

Lancelot was smirking at him. "Gwen was right, Arthur." He bent to pick up the wayward sword and tossed it back in Arthur's general direction. "Your head's really been turned through and through by the stable boy. I wonder what your darling Spanish princess thinks about that."

"Maria doesn't know about Merlin," Arthur said hastily, turning away from the tree. "Stop making it into a big deal."

This earned him a long searching look from Lancelot. "Arthur...you've changed."

"I haven't." Arthur shook his head, "I'm just..."

"Well, if you haven't changed, Marquess, you must just be tired, or maybe you just lost your form." Merlin was there, slinging a casual arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Would you mind terribly if I kidnapped him for the rest of the afternoon, Lancelot?"

--

"You really did not have to do that," Arthur informed Merlin when they were back at the stable. "You've just gone and made things worse."

"As far as I know, I saved you from making a lengthly explanation that no one will believe. How exactly are you going to explain that you have changed? I doubt they even know how to explain that you have changed. Perhaps it is better that way." Merlin looked at him calmly. "Sword training won't do anything, especially when even your butler can best you."

"I'm having a bad day." Arthur glared at him. "Usually, Lancelot can't even touch me. And you...you're distracting. How'd you get up to that tree, anyway?"

"I climbed up there. I used to do it all the time." Merlin was giving him a strange look, much like the one that Lancelot had given him earlier. "How'd you think I got up there? Magic?"

Arthur shrugged.

"Honestly, Arthur, I wouldn't have blatantly used magic in front of someone like your butler. It'd be like digging my own grave." Shaking his head, Merlin brushed a hand by his arm. "I used to climb trees all the time when I was a boy."

"...Here?"

Merlin nodded. "Here...when the Duke wasn't around, of course. Else, I probably wouldn't be here."

"...Did you put him up to this?"

"Who?"

"The ghost."

Merlin paused. "Arthur, I said the ghost won't hurt you."

Arthur looked at him for a long moment. "So you say, but excuse me if I'm not exactly comfortable with a ghost just staring at me all night. You may be used to it, but I certainly am not."

"You're thinking too much." Merlin smiled faintly at him. "Let's go for a swim."

--

"I don't know how to swim." It cost Arthur his courage and then some to admit that when they came to the river.

Merlin stopped. "You might as well learn," he reasoned evenly as he tossed his shirt aside. "When a future damsel in distress falls into a river, you can call yourself a hero."

Arthur studied Merlin's bare back. He'd been traumatized the last time he got the chance (Uther really did take the fun out of everything without trying too hard,) but this time...

"Merlin? Where'd you get that scratch?"

There was a jagged scar along Merlin's left shoulder. "Actually..." he said, shrugging, "it was nothing. An accident when I was little." He stood up. "You're just stalling now. Shall I throw you in, instead?" he asked, smiling faintly. "I don't think anyone would be too pleased with me--or you, for that matter--if your clothes were ruined."

"Instead of worrying about me, I suggest you worry about yourself." Arthur glanced at him. "I could just say you coerced me."

"If your pride would let you say it." Merlin bit back a snort. "Which I honestly doubt it will."

Arthur, momentarily distracted by Merlin jumping into the water stark naked, almost forgot to be offended. But after giving his stable boy a dirty look, he stripped off his clothing and followed suit.

--

"This water is freezing."

"Come off it, Arthur, it's not like you're going to freeze to death. It's the middle of summer."

"Yes, well, before I freeze, I'm going to drown." Arthur grabbed at the bank.

"I thought you had more faith in me than that." Merlin's arms were around him, and Arthur forced himself to relax. Maybe it would be better if he didn't think about it so much. "Do you think I'd ask you to go swimming just to drown you?"

Or Arthur could be conveniently distracted by the fact Merlin was very wet, and very indecent. That seemed to be a much better focus for his attentions than worrying about how he was going to drown.

"I was hoping you'd have other intentions, honestly," Arthur tipped his head back slightly so that it rested on Merlin's shoulder.

"Oh, I do," Merlin's smirk widened, "Thoroughly indecent intentions." Gently, he turned Arthur around in the water, hitching Arthur's legs up around his waist. "I trust that you'll enjoy them."

--

He would only admit it within the deeply private recesses of his mind, but Arthur did end up enjoying Merlin's indecent intentions. Both of them were laying on the grass, and Arthur turned on his side to look at Merlin. Merlin, who always looked so troubled before, looked peaceful and content.

"Will you tell me about the ghost?" Arthur asked softly.

"I told you he's not going to hurt you." Merlin said. "Why do you want to know so much?"

Arthur hooked his fingers with Merlin's. "He's important to you, that's why."

"I had no idea you spoke poetry so well." Merlin looked genuinely surprised.

Arthur smiled a little. "I try," he said, giving Merlin's hand a squeeze. "I didn't think you'd fall for poetry, Merlin."

"I don't. But I'll tell you," Merlin said, "since you want to know so much."

"How kind of you."

"I try." It was Merlin's turn to smile. "I knew him when I was a boy. We used to climb trees together. He taught me how."

"Here at Chatsworth? How come I never saw you?"

"You were probably too young to remember me." Merlin shrugged one shoulder. "But I remember you...you were here one summer. I was grooming one of the horses. You were with your mother."

Arthur paused. "My...mother?"

"She was nice...the Duchess gave me her handkerchief. I still have it." Merlin smiled at him. "You were afraid of me...well, either me or the horse."

"It was probably you," Arthur looked at him.

"Probably." Merlin propped himself up on his elbows. "We should go, Gaius will never forgive me if the precious Marquess catches a cold." With that, he stood abruptly to retrieve the pile of clothing that they'd left by the bank.

For a moment, Arthur did not move. He just lay there, hands outstretched towards the dusky sky.

"Arthur?" Merlin looked at him.

"We should just stay here forever." Arthur grinned at him.

Merlin was rolling his eyes, probably, as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Don't be ridiculous. You’re such a boy."

--

"Merlin is joining us as the table. Set a place for him," Arthur announced to a dining room full of people that that simultaneously went slackjawed. (Hopefully they went slackjawed at the nature of his request and not at how utterly wrecked he looked, or at the grass stains on his shirt and trousers.)

"I'm not staying, Arthur," Merlin immediately said, "I never said I was staying, anyway."

"Well, you're staying." Arthur gave him a look. "Come on, just sit down."

Gaius coughed pointedly. "Arthur..."

"It may have slipped your mind, Marquess, but you've just committed treason by offering a mere stable boy a seat at your table." Merlin quickly wrenched his hand out of Arthur's grip. "I'm leaving."

Merlin was walking away.

Arthur thought fast. “Wait!”

Merlin stopped, and Gaius looked as if he was prepared to hit Arthur with something blunt. Gwen seemed hesitant, and Lancelot’s shoulders were shaking with silent mirth.

“Figuratively speaking, if everyone sits and eats with me, it wouldn’t exactly be treason, would it?” Arthur said, “So...everyone, sit down.”

Lancelot clapped a hand on his young master’s shoulder. “You couldn’t have been any more eloquent about it, sir. All that is left for you to do now is to get on your knees and grovel for your stable boy’s mercy.”

Arthur had the decency to look (somewhat) horrified. “Lancelot...”

Lancelot blinked at him nonchalantly. “Am I wrong, Arthur?”

Gwen was giggling quietly with her hand over her mouth--but still, it was giggling all the same.

With a shake of his head, Merlin walked back to the table and put a hand on Arthur’s head. For the first time, Arthur realized that Merlin was indeed taller than he was, and the discovery irked him to no end.

“You really are hopeless sometimes, Marquess.” And then Merlin took a seat in the chair on Arthur’s right and reached for the silk napkin. “If you’ve come short of just groveling, then I guess I will have to abide by your wishes.”

Arthur smiled at him and sat. Gwen and Lancelot followed suit. Some of his father’s servants dawdled, and Arthur sent one confused looking boy down to the cellar for wine.

By the time the wine was gone, even Gaius was sitting.

--

“So I’ve ate at your table, I’ve drunk your wine,” Merlin mused as he and Arthur made slow progress up the stairs while the others scurried back to their rightful stations. “What next? I suppose I will have to share your bed too?”

Arthur flushed a brilliant red. “You said it, I certainly didn’t.”

“Then...would you be averse to it?” Merlin nuzzled at him.

“You know I wouldn’t be.” Arthur glanced at him briefly. “For someone who’s so averse to this house, you’ve adapted beautifully.”

“It’s the wine, Marquess.” Merlin smiled and rubbed Arthur’s arm. “Just the wine, please don’t get your hopes up.”

Even if it was really just the wine, Arthur was glad for it. He unlatched the door to his bedroom and Merlin followed him in.

“Arthur.”

Arthur paused. “What?”

Merlin looked uncertain for a moment, but he swallowed and said, “You...you slept in this room when you were a boy.”

Arthur felt a shiver crawl up his spine. "How did you--”

Merlin shrugged. “I just do. Magic, maybe.”

“You and your magic.” Arthur held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. “I suppose it lets you have an answer for everything.” He sank down on a pile of pillows with a slight pout to his lips.

“Almost everything, but not quite,” Merlin laughed. He crawled into bed next to Arthur and Arthur put his arms around him. “I’m just glad I wasn’t born a seer, it’d be terribly boring to know what the future holds...and anyway, it’s not even magic.”

“What...seeing the future?” Arthur mulled this over. “I suppose so. I’d take that over being able to see ghosts.”

“Because he scares you?”

“Because he gives me a bad feeling.” Arthur glared at him. “Stop misinterpreting me.”

For his pains, Merlin gave him a look again, biting his lip. “You’re that inspiring. We shouldn’t look so suspicious when your chambermaid is coming to check on you any minute--”

“If you’ve been around her long enough, you’ll learn that it’s useless to hide anything from Gwen,” Arthur said with a shake of his head. “Just stay, it hardly matters.”

“I will then.”

As if on cue, Gwen poked her head in with a lamp in hand. “And I thought you knew me well enough to know that whenever you talk about me, I know about it.” She surveyed the scene before her with a hand planted on her hip. “You two look comfortable.”

“We’re comfortable,” Merlin said.

“Right, I’m sure.” Gwen half rolled her eyes. “Good night, Arthur, Merlin.”

--

The ghost was there. There in that very room, but for once, Arthur wasn’t going to wake up for it. But he knew it was there because his bones chilled.

Arthur snuggled closer to Merlin and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Even with that, he could tell the ghost was smiling at him, the way it always did.

Then he suddenly could not breathe. When Arthur opened his eyes, the ghost was leering at him.

“I’m going to kill you.” It was as if the wind had spoken it, but the words rang in his head.

Clawing at his throat, Arthur found nothing there. Merlin shifted quietly beside him. It never occurred to him to scream...though he opened his mouth and nothing came out. His sword suddenly seemed a million reaches away.

Merlin! Wake up!

“Arthur!” For someone who had just woken up, Merlin was incredibly nimble. In a swift motion that any serious fencer would have envied, he tossed the ghost over onto the bed and Arthur just stared.

The ghost lay very still. And it touched Merlin’s face.

Merlin flinched a little, Arthur thought--or maybe he’d wanted to imagine it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have taught me that.”

The ghost shrugged.

“Arthur...Arthur is nothing like the Duke,” Merlin said. “He’s been nothing but kind to me, he’s nothing like his father. You’ve no reason to hurt him, Will.” He paused for a long moment. “Arthur makes me happy. So...it’s all right, I think.”

Merlin looked towards him for a long moment.

“You really do.”

Arthur lay back against the pillows and looked at him. The silence stretched between them and the ghost--

The ghost was gone.

“Tell me about it,” Arthur said quietly as he opened hims arms to a weary Merlin, “...soon?”

There was warm magic against Arthur’s mouth.

--

The day after that, Merlin was delirious in the morning. He didn't seem to recognize Arthur at all.

Three long, long days passed before Arthur got Merlin to talk again. Otherwise, he looked ghastly pale, like he was ill. Arthur ordered him to stay in bed, but of course Merlin didn't listen.

The ghost seemed to be gone for good. Which was a good thing, of course, but Arthur was still disturbed by the fact that Merlin wasn’t talking to him. On their first ride out after the incident, Merlin directed them into the forest to a small clearing. They both rode on Laurent because Arthur kept having the worst feeling that Merlin was going to fall off.

There was a small pile of stones there, arranged carefully by someone into a circle. Arthur walked towards it, carrying Merlin on his back in spite of vehement complaints from Merlin that he was indeed all well and fine.

“You can complain all you want, but I’m not letting you down.”

“Prat,” Merlin mumbled into Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur looked back at him. “I’m trying to help you, how does that make me a prat?”

“I don’t need your help.”

“So you’re so fond of saying,” Arthur brushed that off with a mild shrug. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I built that when I was eleven.” Merlin pointed to the pile of stones. “Gaius lied to me and said that was where they buried Will. I think they burned him.”

Arthur was silent.

“He was the stable boy before me.” Merlin’s voice was considerably muffled. “He taught me all sorts of things, stupid things, wise things...Will knew about my magic.” His voice shook just a little. “He was the first person I ever told.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Arthur asked, “What happened to him?”

“He...well, no, that’s not right.” Merlin shook his head. “I...I went riding in the wood, and...I went riding on one of your father’s best--favorite horses. It hurt its foot. It’d never walk again. My magic was weak then, I had no chance of healing it.” For a long moment, Merlin didn’t say anything. “Your father was absolutely furious with me. He threatened to have me flogged.”

“And Will took your place.”

Merlin nodded.

“You said you saved my father.” Arthur glanced at him.

"I did," Merlin affirmed soberly, his arms tightening a little around Arthur's neck. "Will came one night and tried to stab your father while he was asleep. Much like he did a few days ago."

Arthur said, "...Did you stop that too? So you were in the house before? That night."

"I was, yes." Maybe it was Arthur's imagination, but it seemed like Merlin was almost ashamed of his decision.

Merlin had made it more than clear that he hated Chatsworth House and everything that it stood for. It was this house that had witnessed the murder of his dear friend and Arthur's own father had a direct hand in it. Yet, Merlin came to him, and stayed with him in the house. "Why?"

“Because...” There was a brief pause, and then Merlin said, “I thought of you. You aren’t your father, Arthur--though at times you do try to be. Must you need a reason for everything? It does get a little tiresome that way.”

"How am I like my father?"

If anything, Merlin looked pained at his query. "Arthur, you belong to your father's world. You are his son. And one day, you shall be like him, whether I like it or not." He ran a hand through Arthur's hair, "Following in your whimsical footsteps, I wish I could keep you like this forever."

Somehow, Arthur’s own eyes stung. (He’d never admit it, though). “I’ll make it up to you,” he spoke solemnly to the pile of stones after taking a minute to collect himself. “I’ll protect Merlin...and I promise to do right by him.”

“Do right by me?” Merlin sounded rightly amused. “I’m hardly going to make you the king of Spain.”

“No, but playing the damsel in distress hardly suits me,” Arthur decided as he turned away from the pile of stones. “Next time, it’s going to be my turn.”

Merlin kissed his cheek. “I’ll look forward to that.”

--

The day that Arthur was scheduled to ride back to London, he went to the stables to fetch Laurent feeling more miserable than he could ever remember. Merlin met him there, and Laurent’s coat was so smooth it practically glowed.

Merlin simply handed him the reins and said nothing. They’d said so much already. Arthur swung easily onto his horse and looked down.

“You should come with me to London,” Arthur said softly. “I’d take care of you like I promised him. Devonshire isn’t as big as Chatsworth, but I’m sure there’s room for you.”

“I had the feeling you’d ask me that,” Merlin said with an amiable shrug. “But no, I hate the city.”

“Merlin--”

Merlin held up a hand, “Before you say anything, no, don’t ask me again. I’m not changing my mind.” He dug in his pocket and came up with a small silk bundle. “This is for you.”

Arthur held out his hand. “What’s that?”

“Your mother’s handkerchief,” Merlin grinned. “With a little magic. Like I promised.”

“You didn’t promise.” Arthur pointed out; it was the truth, after all. Merlin had never really promised him anything.

“Must have slipped my mind. Now I promise.” Merlin smiled at him warmly, squeezing Arthur’s hand.

Arthur bit his lip. “I wish,” he began, “I wish that you would change your mind.”

“I won't,” Merlin paused. “But I might surprise you some day.” His smile was almost promising. But not quite.

Arthur stared at him for a long, long moment. “I’d like that.” And he hoped it was soon.