A/n: Hello again. You stayed, how wonderful. Sorry I took so long to get this up. I've been pecking at it since last posting, but well, I won't make any excuses seeing as their legitimacy bled into sheer laziness. I will try to update every Thursday from here on out though!

The Goblin in the Maze

Chapter Two

More than confident enough to traverse the bumpy, mountainous road (even with neglected guard railing along the tightest shoulders), Merlin belted the chorus of Piano Man with an off-key gusto as he swayed slightly to the beat.

Despite the noise, Arthur didn't stir. If there was anything Merlin had learned about his boyfriend on this trip, it was the fact that he could sleep through anything. Well, Merlin had already known that. After all, he had accidentally spilled water over the slumbering blond's back while reaching for Arthur's untouched, still-full cup. Not to mention the time that Arthur had somehow managed to dangle slightly less than half his body off Merlin's low-set bed frame, and Merlin may have stepped on and tripped over Arthur's limp arm, which sent the brunet careening into his nightstand, nearly breaking yet another lamp. All the racket and not a peep. The fresh bruise that had bubbled its way onto his skin wasn't even enough to rouse him (though Arthur divulged later that in his dream, he was in battle and had been wounded in that particular spot). In fact, nothing seemed to wake Arthur up. Nothing but that damned alarm ringtone that blared like the death throes of a thousand harpies. It was truly a miracle Merlin had never done anything untoward towards that phone.

As he enthusiastically mumbled his way through another verse of the song, Merlin peered over at his coffee, giving it a brief, albeit longing glance. No, he had to finish this song before indulging in another sip of the now-tepid brew. He had to honor even the instrumental parts with las, das, dis, and dums. Coffee be damned.

After reducing speed, he carefully glided around one of the sharper turns. Merlin's singing reduced to off-melody humming until he safely rounded the bend, at which point he took another look at Arthur. The blond was still fast asleep with his seat reclined as far as Merlin's car would allow with the small suitcases and the costumes in the back vying for valuable space. Arthur managed to make do, even with the snack bag huddled at his feet. Though, admittedly, Arthur had made good use of the spider costume. The stuffed legs seemed to make a rather serviceable pillow and sun shade.

The chorus resumed, and Merlin jumped at the chance to participate in the portion of the song he actually knew. "Sing us a song, you're the piano man! Sing us a song tonight! We're all on the moon for a malady! And you've got us keeling alright!" he bellowed confidently. Why this song was about quarantining ill people on the moon because of some futuristic super-plague, he didn't know. Merlin figured there was nothing better for them to do other than sing, and at least this piano man has a captive audience, he supposed. Unless of course this piano man was causing the malady. Now that was a theory!

When the decline of the mountains smoothed into a valley, the song ended, changing to some modern top-40 that the brunet had not heard before. Realizing he was lucky the station signal had traveled this far into the country, he didn't bother changing it. He grabbed his now-cold coffee that was evidently dissociating into its cream and coffee layers and gave it a swirl before downing a few gulps. As he slid it back into the cup holder, Merlin looked outside his passenger window and saw the start of a rather large ranch that ran deeper than it appeared from the road. As per his traditional custom, he greeted the cows and the occasional horse, who were grazing on the lush overgrown grass at the bottom of said mountains.

A few minutes later, he found himself surrounded by the nearly-barren farmland that had probably a month ago contained the entirety of the fall harvest, which had been carefully collected throughout the season. The farms, which Merlin knew were owned by separate people, blended seamlessly into one another until he passed the one with the extraordinarily large, aggressively rusted windmill. This windmill, for as long as Merlin has been alive, never actually performed its duty as it should. No matter the wind strength, it would stand stalwart against it, refusing to pinwheel with its rusted-shut blades. At this point, the young teacher was partially convinced that it had become a performance art piece in its own right (because quite frankly, neglect, lack of funds, and laziness were too boring of reasons).

After passing the windmill, Merlin grabbed his coffee and chugged it while passing the steadfast flats leading to his hometown. Though he tired to avoid its stale twang by skipping past his taste buds, he still managed to taste its rankness in the back of his throat. Grabbing for the mint gum, the brunet finally caught sight of Ealdor, the entrance of which was marked by the threatening (but often unenforced) 30 MPH speed sign. As he obeyed the speed laws regardless, Merlin slowly passed a few small shops and clusters of houses. When he came across someone he knew from school, he rolled down his windows and shouted a few pleasantries while his boyfriend still slumbered soundly.

Despite the slow speed, Merlin reached his mother's home in the matter of minutes and pulled into the patch of gravel beside the house that served as a driveway. Killing the engine, Merlin unbuckled himself and leaned over to shake Arthur awake. "Arthur, come on, we're here. Wake up, Arthur. Dammit," Merlin prodded as he hasted his shakes. "Arthur, you're going to be late for work!" Merlin shouted, only to be answered by a loud snore. "Doesn't snore, my ass," he mumbled before restrategizing. "Arthur, I invited Morgana and Uther over for dinner! They'll be here in ten minutes!"

To the brunet's relief, Arthur startled awake, throwing himself forward only to be thrust back into his seat by his locked seat belt. His eyes flew open and began darting around as he desperately tried to ascertain his surroundings. It was only when Arthur caught sight of Merlin's stupid laughing face that he was able to calm down and stabilize his breathing. "Prick," Arthur mumbled, unbuckling his seat belt and rubbing at his whip-lashed shoulder.

"Hey, I only pulled out the big guns because it was strictly necessary. And don't worry, I can kiss it better later," Merlin said with a brief eyebrow waggle and a toothy grin.

"In your childhood bed?" Arthur asked in a low voice, scandalized.

Merlin laughed, eyes crinkling in fondness at the blond's feigned display. "Trust me, that bed has seen things that would make you blush," Merlin returned, grin still splitting across his face.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's where you learned the things that make me blush," Arthur returned coolly with a bit of a chuckle. Merlin shot him a look that confirmed his suspicion, and Arthur could feel such thoughts wedging to the forefront of his mind. Oppressing them for later, Arthur looked at what he presumed was Hunith's home. It was a rather small house, covered in quaint, mint wood paneling. Plants and bird feeders festooned the lush yard, which was a myriad of vivid colors. "Bird feeders, huh? Is that how she came up with—"

"Merlin? Yeah, she loves bird watching. A merlin was the last bird she saw before having me, and then when she remembered the legendary wizard, she couldn't resist...I told you how she sobbed with laughter when I told her I was bringing home my boyfriend named Arthur, right?" Merlin interrupted, and Arthur nodded, smiling at the memory. "You're going to love her. Anyway, we should grab our things." Patting Arthur on the chest, Merlin popped the trunk with the fob and they unloaded their small suitcases. They agreed Merlin's costume could be left in the car until it was absolutely necessary.

As Merlin led them to the front door, Arthur's eyes traced over the little decorations that were lovingly nestled between the wild plants and the cordoned-off section that constituted and herb and vegetable garden. He saw a spattering of hand-painted, hand-carved wooden mushrooms that accompanied the actual mushrooms that grew in the yard, a few stone trolls, and some weather-worn gnomes as he approached the three steps to the front door. Before ascending, Merlin warned him to watch his head for the wind chimes.

Both careful to not disrupt the chimes with their heights, Merlin knocked on the wood beside the door, and the couple stood in silence for a few seconds before they heard an energetic run towards the door. The door flung open inward, and before either man could comprehend what was happening, a small child had thrown himself at Merlin, hugging him tightly around the midsection. "Merlin!" the boy shouted.

Arthur looked at Merlin with an inquiring gaze, and Merlin mouthed, "I'll tell you later." Patting the boy's tuft of brunet hair, Merlin greeted, "Hello to you, too, Mordred. Is Hunith home?"

Before Mordred could answer, Hunith entered the picture, scrambling behind Mordred at the door. "Mordred, dear, you shouldn't answer the door..." she began to scold, but stopped as soon as she saw her son.

"Seeee, but it's Merlin. Merlin's not a stranger," the five year old pouted, still clinging to the young schoolteacher.

"Well, I could have been, Mordred. I could have been a big, scary stranger," Merlin lightly chastised, accentuating "big, scary stranger" with a few tickles. The child squealed with laughter, and Merlin gave it a few more seconds before stopping entirely.

Mordred, now free from Merlin's tickling grasp, scuttled behind Hunith with his arms tucked around his sides. He made sure to give Merlin his best "I don't trust you" gaze, but gave it up in favor of a cracked smile.

Merlin took the opportunity to step forward with his arms open wide. "Hello, Mum," he greeted, giving her a hug and a peck on the cheek. "This is Arthur, my boyfriend. Arthur, this is Hunith, my mother."

Arthur smiled and offered his hand. Immediately waving him off, Hunith said, "No no, none of that. Come here." She waved him over, opening her arms for a hug. Arthur happily obliged, and though it was a bit awkward on his part, Arthur was pleased to see where Merlin got his warmness from. After breaking the embrace, Hunith took a step back and gave Arthur the full once-over. "Merlin, dear, he is much more handsome than you said on the phone," she teased, eyes crinkling with that same fond expression Merlin gets when chuffed. Both boys averted their gazes to the floor, and Arthur scratched the back of his neck. Pleased with how much she had embarrassed them, she continued, "Anyway, I can't keep you on that front stoop of mine. Come on in, bring your things, and I'll let Merlin show you up to his old room."

The two boys stepped inside, pulling their luggage behind them. Arthur was not surprised in the slightest to see dozens of small animal figurines (many of which were birds) and a few houseplants decorating the relatively sparse living space. There was an atrocious floral couch that appeared to be incredibly comfortable, and a tired coffee table that seemed to have become Mordred's activity table. After Merlin suggested he return to coloring, and that he'd be back down in a bit, Mordred bounced along and resumed his crayon masterpiece. Much like Merlin's own space, the walls were lined with bookshelves, which served as the home to many read and reread books as well as an abundance of bric-a-brac. In the corner, Hunith had a small television set, an older box model with antennae on the top, with a VHS player nestled on a shelf below it. The entertainment center had rows of various movies all in their cases, children's movies lower where Mordred could reach, as well as a few movie-related figurines and spaceship reproductions next to their associated films.

Though he was pleased that Arthur seemed fascinated by his new cluttered surroundings, Merlin grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him from the room. Within the minute, they had trudged up the staircase with their suitcases in hand. Arthur's attention, once again, caught on Hunith's decor choice, which only this time involved the embarrassing photos from Merlin's childhood that hung on the stairway wall. "Merlin, look at you in the bath with the rubber ducky," Arthur crooned, admiring the sheer adorableness of his boyfriend's child self.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Merlin sighed. Those were never going to get taken down, were they? "She's got some really bad ones from a folk dancing festival, too. I bet she'll show you them if you ask. Actually, she'll probably show you them regardless..." the brunet trailed off, wondering if it was possible to somehow be out of the house when that was occurring.

"Oh come on, they can't be that bad," Arthur teased.

Merlin shook his head. "Think about those pictures Morgana emailed me last week." Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "Now, think about those pictures Morgana took of you and make it one thousand times worse. Morgana could only dress you up for so long, and don't forget awful stuffy scratchy traditional attire isn't out of place here." Merlin pulled at his collar as if his old costuming was still itching him. "Now here, mine's the second on the left. The bathroom is the first, and I'm guessing Mordred is staying in the guest room across the hall. My mother's is at the very end on the right side," the brunet said, pointing to each door as he described their contents.

For a second, Arthur gauged the short distance between Merlin's and his mother's room, marveling at his boyfriend's bravery. If his room were as close to his father's as Merlin's was to his mother's, he wouldn't have done half the things he had in his teenage years.

"Okay," Merlin said as he paused in front of his door, hand about to turn the knob. "I cannot guarantee whether or not I have any dorky posters on the wall, nor can I promise there are normal sheets on the bed..."

"Normal sheets?" Arthur asked.

Sighing, Merlin elaborated, "Okay, so it was my senior year of high school and I glued my glue gun to my normal flannel set. Only, instead of telling Mum, I kind of just, you know? Tried to take care of it myself?" He cringed. "And instead of dissolving the glue, I somehow managed to rip a hole in it and bleach it..."

"Wait, wait, wait didn't you glue your glue gun to your pillowcase the other night?" Arthur remembered, holding his laughter.

Rolling his eyes, Merlin opened the door and stepped inside as he continued, "Yeah, yeah, I know. For a teacher, I sure don't learn. Only now I've more than invested in glue solvent. It was just easier to crawl in yours than deal with mine last night. Oh, and if you're brave enough, look under this awful rug. I promise you I don't just glue bedspreads." The brunet kicked at the blue shag rug that covered almost the entirety of his once-white now-taupe carpeting and looked around as if he was forgetting something. "Wait, I didn't finish the story," Merlin realized as he pulled his suitcase to the side of his faux wood desk with a bubbling veneer. "Anyway, so it was my last year at home, and there was no real point in buying me a new flannel set because I was moving out soon anyway. I wound up using my old Star Wars set from when I was eight..."

As Arthur pulled his suitcase behind Merlin's, he watched his boyfriend walk over to his old bed and lift up a colorful scrap quilt. Sure enough, the Star Wars sheets were there, tucked in careful hospital corners. Both man laughed at the well-washed bedding. Merlin threw the quilt back over and proclaimed, "Well, I suppose that answers that question." When Merlin plopped on the edge of his bed, Arthur sidled up beside him.

"So, who was that kid anyway?" the blond asked, leaning back on the heels of his palms.

Merlin looked at his door, which was slightly ajar, and went to close it before sitting back down and explaining. "He's the grandson of one of my mother's friends. He died a while back, but Morgause kept bringing him over..."

"Morgause? As in Morgana's half-sister Morgause?" Arthur interrupted with wide eyes.

Merlin stared back for a second before answering, "I mean, probably, yeah. How many Morgauses are there just floating around? You should ask Morgana about that. Huh. That's weird." He shook his head, contemplating the possibility. "But yeah, she always left him with my mother, and I'm not entirely sure why he's here or for how long...Sort of not really nephew or not, be nice to him though. He's seen a lot, and it's a wonder he's such a good kid."

Arthur nodded. While he had never particularly been good with children, he would never deliberately do something mean. Maybe he'd even get bonus points for calling Morgana? For some reason small children liked her (though Arthur suspected it had a lot to do with the fact that she continually carried "gran candy" in her bag), and Arthur was sure that his sister had met her nephew sometime before? He wasn't sure. She almost never mentioned her exclusive side of the family around him.

Patting Arthur's thigh, the brunet stood, declaring, "Well, we should probably get down there. I can smell the vegetable soup, and she probably wants my help with the bread." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, smiling to himself as he remembered all the years he had made bread from scratch with his mother.

The blond sniffed the air as he stood, and his stomach growled longingly. Merlin smiled at the sound and led him back down the stairs towards the kitchen, where Hunith called them both in as predicted.

Merlin, without missing a beat, grabbed a spare apron off some wooden pegs near the back door and washed his hands. He briefly checked that Mordred was still coloring in the other room before returning. "So Mum, how long do you have Mordred?"

Hunith stopped stirring the post-dinner pudding and looked at both the boys. "I don't know. I legally have him indefinitely, but his mother said he was only leaving him for 'maybe a week' a month ago. I can't contact her either..." Hunith sighed as she looked in the direction of her living room, where Mordred was still presumably coloring. "Don't get me wrong, I love having Mordred here, but don't you think he deserves to know? He misses her. Poor boy."

The brunet gave his mother a sad smile before turning to Arthur and suggesting, "Why don't you go sit down with Mordred while I help Mum with dessert? We can go through the corn maze after dinner before it gets too dark out, alright?"

Arthur, who didn't want to get in the way of their little reunion (and who didn't want to be a victim of Merlin's whipped cream), walked into the living room. "Hello, Mordred," Arthur greeted with an awkward wave as he moved to sit on the floor across the table from the child.

Mordred pointedly ignored him and continued coloring beyond the liberties of the lines in a forest green crayon.

Maybe he hadn't heard him? "That's a nice picture you've got there, Mordred," he complimented, craning up to catch a glimpse of a jack-o-lantern.

When the boy decided to place his crayon back down among the others, Arthur thought he was finally going to get a response, only for Mordred to continue to ignore him as he chose a blue crayon for the pumpkin's spindly vines. Struck into a stunned silence, Arthur did not know what else to say until Mordred finally spoke up, "I don't like you."

Jaw dropping, Arthur gaped like a bubbling fish, completely at a for words. Any attempts at a response died on his lips. He stared at the impetuous child, the picture of innocence, as he continued to color and began to hum, completely tuning the adult's presence out entirely.

"Arthur, Mordred!" Merlin called from the kitchen. "Dinner's done in ten. You both had better wash up!"

End of Chapter Two

A/n: Um, a few things. I based this off a lot of my own road trips into the country (only I KNOW all the words to Piano Man please don't kill me), but I don't know when farming season is. At all, so forgive me if I'm a little off. Please, if you want to see more in a timely manner, favorite and follow, and if you want to give me a little extra motivation, please review!

Next Time: Merlin drags a reluctant Arthur through the kid's corn maze at dusk just after dinner. Enter the shart goblin, some HORRIBLE puns, and probably a bit more Mordred. It really depends on how long it gets.

~gecko