Metanoia

"Damn The Consequences"

Merlin

"I don't like him," Arthur spoke, biting his lip in concern to the comment.
I sighed, shrugging on a coat, letting my fingers smooth over the blemishes. "Neither do I; but our goal is to make allies with them." My eyes met Arthur's. "My current focus is on courting the Princess Selma."
Arthur's orbs darkened upon hearing the sentence. Shifting, he gritted his teeth, turning away from me, pretending to mess himself with the papers on my desk. I watched silently as Arthur reorganized the shuffles of parchment.
"Who knows," my voice continued, patting down the unkept hairs on my head. "Maybe it would be a good alliance. Maybe I will learn to cope with the kingdom."
Arthur instantly dropped the papers his hands were fumbling with, sliding to face me, a glare painted on his face. "No."
I raised a brow. "No?"
He licked his lips, ready to speak, before I beat him.
"Do you not think I'm capable of courting Princess Selma?"
Arthur's eyebrows dropped, the angered expression growing deeper. "You know that's not what I meant."
Tilting my head, my hands abandoned my hair, as I strode over to him, my eyes now staring intently into his. "Then what?" We were inches apart—the only thing keeping us apart the encased air of our exhaled breaths.
A warm breeze tickled my face, as Arthur kept his gaze steady, brows twitching. "I think people shouldn't marry for benefit, wealth, or protection." He paused, breathing heavily from rushed anger and aggravation. "People should marry for love. And if others disagree, then damn the consequences."
Then, as if a rush of energy hit me, I felt the strong urge to kiss him. To place my lips on his. Oh how it was so simple yet impossible. It's been two years. Surely after all of that time he's lost touch.
I averted my eyes, unable to stare at his any longer, feeling my fingers clench against my palm. Could he still love me?
Arthur huffed after receiving no reply, shoving past me to reach the door, before walking out in a frustrated fit. I gazed at the fallen papers on the floor, reading the blurs with no comprehension. My mind was in a haze. Heaving a breath, I wiped the fallen liquid from my face, before collecting myself, readjusting my jacket, before heading out the door.

_________________

"You made quite the appearance last night," Selma said, popping a grape into her mouth. The woman was pretty—long, brown hair cascading down like a waterfall; brown eyes the hue of honey; along with her flawless complexion. I gazed, scrunching my eyebrows for an answer. The Princess was everything another would want. The epitome of perfection. Everyone would swoon in the woman's presence.
So why wouldn't I?
Selma looked to me, giving a soft chuckle to my staring. "Don't strain yourself."
"What do you mean appearance?" I asked, leaning back from my analyzations, avoiding her previous comment.
She tilted her head in amusement, the past scenario glossing over her eyes. "A good first impression, I must say," came her mumble.
"What?"
"Everyone was staring at you," she continued mindlessly. "Many's eyes were filled with lust. Women..." Selma snuck a glance to me. "Men."
"So I put on a show," I said in a carefree tone, sifting my fingers through the grass beside the picnic blanket.
The Princess nodded. "Quite. Dressed in elegant robes like that? You had the whole crowd at your feet."
One of my brows raised. "Including you?"
She snorted softly, picking at another grape, before deciding to eat it. "Possibly."
Heaving a suppressed sigh, my eyes directed themselves towards the sky, watching as the clouds aimlessly floated about. They were free—able to wander without anything holding them back. My jaw clenched, as a hand aggressively ripped a shoot of grass from their roots.
I didn't want to marry her.
"Tell me something, Merlin," came Selma's voice. Her tone was calm—not at all deterred by the forced engagement. I raised my eyebrows, still not staring at the woman. My mind wasn't able to execute the action just yet.
"That boy you sat beside at the feast..." She trailed off, analyzing my reaction. After a longer pause than intended, I rolled my eyes with frustration, waving my finger in the air to gesture that she could continue.
Selma sighed. "Are you aware of the man's affection for you?"
My ears twitched. "What are you on about, Selma?" There a small sliver of hope zooming through my mind. My exterior remained expressionless, as I waited for the Princess to continue.
"I saw the way he gazed at you. Like a lovestruck girl meeting the man of her dreams for the first time."
"How would you know," I croaked, quickly swallowing, messing my hand in the dirt to distract me from my internal thoughts.
"I know because I had the same look," she murmured.
Heat instantly scattered across my face when the words tumbled from Selma's mouth. She wasn't fazed or angry at the forced marriage.
She had wanted it all along.
"We should be heading back," I mumbled in a dazed state, attempting to stand before an arm grasped onto mine.
"Merlin."
My eyes met Selma's. Her heartbeat was racing with lust. Mine was with terror.
"I can tell you're not like most kings, Merlin," she started. "When you stood up to my father..." Her voice dissipated, before picking up again after a prominent swallow. "I thought you were so brave. Nobody has ever defied him that way before."
"Plenty of people were willing to do that."
Her eyebrows delicately laced in confusion. "Then why didn't they?"
Exhaling a short, cut off breath, I blinked, staring into her eyes with a fierce look. "Because I was the only one who had the power to do so."
A quiet, intimate moment passed. Selma's eyes were trained on mine. I wasn't sure if she was going to ever break the contact. I didn't breath—didn't move a muscle—because if I did, I felt that she would do something I would later regret. Then, as if a sudden bell rang off, a smile dashed across the Princess's face. A grin that would deflect enemies to their knees like a flash of light. It blinded all darkness with a flick of a finger. Selma was absolutely beautiful.
And it angered me.
She then broke away as if nothing had happened, distractingly wiping her hands on her dress, standing from the ground. "I guess we better get going, then."
Giving a silent, curt nod, I turned, picking up all of the supplies from the picnic we had. I felt the woman's eyes on me—intrigued and amorous.
"Merlin," she spoke softly.
Closing my eyes, my brain sought for release. She was emotionally holding me captive. "Yes, milady?" I spoke, not daring to turn around. One move and this could all go south.
"The picnic was lovely."
"I'm glad you're satisfied."
She gave a low hum of agreement. Mostly. "Oh," she suddenly spoke in fake surprise. "You missed a fork."
Hearing her gentle footsteps sound off, the Princess inhaled a breath, before silence was heard. Her feet were heard trailing back to me calmly—practiced.
I stuck out my hand, the gesture asking for the silverware to be handed to me. Only seconds later, a cold, smooth texture hit my hand. "Thank you-" My answer got quickly cut off when an arm turned me, the body of mine not able to react—just watch—as my lips collided into Selma's.
It was forced.
It was without consent.
And the worst thing about it was that I slightly craved it.

A/N: Hello everyone! Don't worry! Our children are still undeniably in love! (The Gods have spoken) Anyway; if y'all have enjoyed this story so far, please leave a vote or comment! Thanks! Bye!