Character/s: Arthur, Merlin
Summary: It's the Prince's 21st birthday and he gets a very special gift from his father's allies.
Warnings: slavery, mild sexual content
Word Count: 1k
Prompt: #314: The Tower
Author's Notes: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
The Great Hall was crowded, overflowing with noise and laughter, snippets of conversation carried from one side of the room to the other, an air of amiability and camaderie reigned amongst the guests of Camelot.
The Prince's twenty-first birthday was a lavish affair, his father, King Uther Pendragon, had insisted on making it so. Arthur had suspected the festivities were more for his father's sake than his own. He sought to remind every single person of his power over the lands at all times. The Pendragon's rule of Albion was resolute.
A sumptuos banquet had been served, savory roasted meats, rich stews, fancy pastries and sweets that melted in the mouth upon the first taste. Tankards of ale, and goblets of wine were being efficiently refilled, right before the last drop was gone.
Arthur observed from his place in the main table, snorting when he caught sight of King Odin and King Caerleon patting each other on the back, resembling long lost friends. There was nothing like a celebration to bring the kingdoms together. Animosities buried for the night.
His father was enjoying the night, that much was obvious, he was beaming with something Arthur could only describe as pride. With the authority he commanded, he called for his guests attention. He stood up, launching into a speech about unity and peace, and by the end the Five Kingdoms stood like a fellowship.
"And now a toast for my son. Prince Arthur of Camelot."
"Prince Arthur of Camelot!"
KIng Caerleon and his wife, Queen Annis, were the first to approach their table to offer their best wishes to Arthur, and present him with a gift. Then the rest followed. Arthur put on his best smile, thanked everyone. His words more subdued than his father's. He got beautiful tapestries with intricate patterns, rich fabrics fit for a king, silver and gold, and exquisite objects he had no real use for.
When King Cenred went up, Arthur was given a small wooden box that could fit in the palm of his hand, it was beautifully carved with symbols Arthur had only seen beyond Albion's borders, well into Druid land. "Essetir wishes you a long and healty life," he said, his smirk vicious and self-satisfied.
"Thank you." Arthur turned the box over, and then opened it. His brow creased, inside lay a small, golden key. He wondered if it was some sort of symbolic gesture.
"I hope this gift pleases you."
"It was my best find," Kanen declared, puffing out his chest proudly. Arthur tried to hide his disgust. He was a nasty man with a violent streak, and as Cenred's right hand man he got away with things lesser men were hunged for.
"What do you mean?" Arthur's puzzlement increased when Cenred made a gesture and the music that had been background, drowned out by the hubbub of voices, turned into something else.
The music was alive. It was exalted, full of dramatic strings and majestic drums. Arthur could feel it under his skin. The room filled with smoke, and out of nowhere a man appeared, he was tall and lean, his black hair a contrast to the paleness of his skin. He was barefoot, dressed in leather pants, a linen tunic unlaced exposing his chest. Golden cuffs on his wrists, and a matching collar around his neck.
Then he finally understood. The key.
The man moved in time with the music, showing the strenght of his body as he contorted and swayed his hips, translating the sound into a hypnotic dance. Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away. He was graceful and wild, each motion was meant to entice. A ball of heat gathered Arthur's his groin, his breathing has increaced. As surreptitious as he could, he presssed the heel of his hand against his straining cock, barely mffling a groan. Thankfully everyone else was equally beguiled by the dancer. He swallowed, shifted in his seat. Arthur needed the spectacle to be over, and go find release.
Arthur felt like a hypocrite, all those times he'd denounced Essetir's treatment of magic folk, and here he was, hard and aching. But, there was no denying it, the man ignited something within him.
When the music reached its apogee flames burst from his hands, lighting up his face with a warm glow. The entire room erupted into applause.
The man stood tall in the middle of the room, head held high, chest rising and falling, staring at Arthur defiantly.
Arthur rushed to his chambers, having bid his goodbyes to his guests, claiming fatigue. His heartbeat was frantic, like the beating drums of the music. He knew what was waiting for him,
Walking inside he found nothings amiss, the room stood as he'd left it. Almost. A fire was burning in the hearth, and the man was there. Standing by Arthur's bed. His eyes cold and calculating.
"What is your name?"
The man's lips remained closed, Arthur had expected nothing less. He walked to him, stopping in front of the man. Up close, he was even more alluring. Sharp cheekbones, plump lips, blue eyes. Arthur would even dare to call him beautiful.
"Have you come to take your pleasure, Sire?" His voice was deep, full of disdain. Arthur couldn't figure out if it was for him, the situation, or his former captors.
Lifting a hand, Arthur caressed the man's cheek,fully expecting him to recoil from his touch, instead he stood still. Arthur watched his thumb tracing the man's full lips. He imagined him on his knees, those lips wrapped around him, wet and swollen, his hard cock disappearing between them. "As much as I'd love to, I'm not going to. You have a choice."
"I don't have a choice. I'm a Pet, Sire," he said, as if he thought Arthur was dense.
Arthur dropped his hand, grabbed both of his wrists, brought them up close to his face, there were red marks near his pulse point. The cuffs were cold and smooth against his fingertips. The man barely moved, barely breathed, it was disconcerting when he had been so alive dancing, The cuffs were the only thing keeping him from attacking Arthur, his magic was dormant. He could only do his owner's bidding. And he was Arthur's now.
Arthur took out the key, the man's expression was one of panic. Arthur unlocked the cuffs, one at a time, they fell to the floor with a clank, the collar followed. The man gasped, rubbing his hurt wrists and neck.
"I say you do. You may go."
His eyes were wide, searching Arthur's face for any trace of a lie.
Arthur laid down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes, listening to the man's retreating steps. The key burned hot in his fist. He wasn't aware of how much time had passed, his surroundings were silent. It was a shock when he felt a pressure on his lips, a warm body hovering above his. His eyes flew open. It was the man, giving him one of the softest kisses he'd ever gotten. It was almost sweet.
The man climbed on the bed, straddling him. Arthur sat up, bewildered by his actions. His hands automatically flew to the man's hips. His weight on top of Arthur pleasant,
"I have nowhere to go. I no longer have a home," he said in a whisper, his breath fanning over Arthur's face. The distance between them was minimum,
Before Arthur could form a word, he sneaked a hand between them, palm rubbing Arthur's cock through his clothes. The pressure was just right, perfect. Arthur let out a shuddery breath. He rocked his hips, provoking a moan from Arthur. His deft fingers began working on the laces of his pants.
Arthur grabbed his hand, stopping his movements, his restraint was barely in control."You don't have to do that."
He stilled above Arthur, looking confused, and a bit hurt. "But— Don't you want me?"
Those words broke sonething inside Arthur. He surged forward, his hand on the back of the man's neck, keeping him in place. The kiss was open mouthed, their tongues tangling together, sweet and exploring. The man whimpered against his mouth, and Arthur wondered if it was real, or an act. Arthur placed his palm on his chest, he was warm and shivered at his touch. He deepened the kiss, ground his hips against Arthur's, pulling him closer by looping his arms around him, as if he needed this too. The contact, someone else.
When they broke apart, they were both breathless. Arthur pressed their foreheads together, said, "Stay with me. Be with me."
The man slowly smiled. "My name is Merlin."