Melin: You're A Mile Away And You Have Their Shoes (3/3) PG-13
Title: You're a Mile Away and You Have Their Shoes 3/3
Author: mad_maudlin
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, and also Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: All episodes
Warnings: Crack, shovels, massive rupture of the fourth wall.
Summary: Arthur wanted to know what was going on in Merlin's head. He just didn't mean it so literally.
Waking up in the aftermath was like the worst hangover Arthur had ever had; every part of him hurt in a slightly different way and he could sort out neither time nor space. He was back in his room, he could tell that, and naked; one thin sheet was pulled up to his waist for modesty's sake. The sky outside his window was still dark, and a single candle lit the room. He remembered...lots of things, actually, but all in a jumble, like someone had ripped pages from a book and shuffled them around. There was a curse, or a spell, or something, like when Merlin had accidentally shot the unicorn, only worse...and Merlin was ill...and he, Arthur, he had do...or be...or something...
The door of his room opened, but it was Gwen, not Gaius, and she was carrying a bowl and a rag. "Oh!" she said. "You're awake. Gaius said the fever might not break until morning."
"What happened?" Arthur asked blearily, trying to push himself up.
Gwen was instantly at his side, pushing him back down far too easily. "No, don't, you're sick...you sent someone to Gaius saying Prince Merlin was ill, and when he got there you were both unconscious on the floor. The king is afraid it's another plague." She dipped her rag in the water, wrung it out and laid it across Arthur's forehead; it was blessedly cool, and he sighed in relief. "Gaius is with Merlin now, he asked me to mind you until he got back."
"Where'd you get the water?" Arthur asked, seizing onto a clear memory of cisterns full of pale blue jelly.
"Oh! I took it from the rain barrels," she said with an embarrassed little smile. "I know it's not the cleanest, but it's all we've got, and we're pretty sure we got all the froggy bits out..."
He swiped the rag off his forehead and sat up, and this time Gwen didn't try to stop him; he felt weak and shaky all over, and the sheets were sticking to his skin from old sweat. He was starting to remember now--not perfectly, and in fact there were some terrifying gaps, but he remembered more or less what he had to do and it started with that damn dragon. "Could you," he asked, then swallowed hard in his dry throat. "Could you get me my clothes? I need to...talk to somebody."
She looked at him like he was insane. "Arthur, you passed out only a couple hours ago, and it's the middle of the night. Even if anyone was awake to talk to, you're in no shape to be up walking around."
"It's important," he said. He tried to scratch at the cut on his throat, but it had already been bandaged. "I mean really important. Save-the-world important."
Gwen bit her lower lip. "Has it got something to do with Rowena?"
"Sort of," Arthur said. "It's complicated."
"And it can't wait until morning?"
Arthur just stared at her. "Gwen, Merlin might be dead by morning. There might not be a Camelot in the morning. No."
She hesitated only a minute longer, then drew herself upright and stared him sternly down. "Fine. Then I'll come with you."
"No," Arthur said. "I mean, there's no point in you getting in trouble with Gaius, too. And doesn't Morgana need you?"
"Morgana's been unconscious since lunch," Gwen said bitterly. "And I'll be in even worse trouble if I let you go alone and you fall down a flight of steps or something."
"Fine," Arthur said, unable to spare the energy to argue. "You can come. But I still need my clothes."
Gwen let him alone to dress, and no matter how shaky Arthur's limbs felt, the image of Merlin lying death-like on the ground kept him moving quickly. He had to sit down to get his breeches on, and he stole a moment to breathe deeply and try to finish clearing his head. There was a spell, right, and he needed to break it, because...because he wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to be this. Whatever that meant. He glanced at the candle, and as an experiment, tried to put it out by magic.
Nothing happened.
Swallowing hard, Arthur tried a second time, and the room plunged into darkness, but it felt--wrong. Weak. Like the magic was coming from somewhere far away. Which both did and didn't make sense, and that was why he was going to see the dragon, because how was he meant to solve a magical crisis if there wasn't any magic to solve it with?
He re-lit the candle so he could finish dressing, and then, even though it was disgusting, took a sip of water from the bowl to sooth his parched throat. Gwen was waiting for him in Gaius's main workroom, and she brought her own candle so they could make their way down to the dungeons. The castle seemed quiet, though he didn't have the first idea about the time; maybe the residents were all hiding in their rooms, afraid of what new aberrations the night would bring. Frankly, he wouldn't blame anybody for boarding up the windows and hiding under the bed at this point. He wondered what it was like, when you could wait for someone else to save the world.
"Are we going to the dungeon?" Gwen asked after a short while.
"Under the dungeon, actually," Arthur said. The walking around actually seemed to be helping him; he felt stronger, and his mind clearer, and the details were starting to come back to him, though far too sluggishly for his liking. They came to the top of the dungeon stairs, and Arthur reached around to pinch out Gwen's candle with his fingers. "All right, you're going to trust me for this part."
"Of course I trust you," Gwen said. "But the guards--"
"That's what you need to trust me for," he said. "And...for the record, I'm sorry for this bit."
"Arthur, what--" But he hushed her, and she obeyed, creeping down the stairs behind him to just within sight of the dungeon guards. They weren't dicing tonight; they were tense, scared as everyone in Camelot was scared, but they still couldn't see in the dark. Arthur put out the torches--he had to stretch out his hand and really push them out, and Gwen pressed a hand to her mouth to smother her own squeak of surprise. He took her other wrist and they darted right through the confusion and around the curve, where Arthur found the torches by tripping over them, again.
"Arthur what was--oh my god," Gwen said, as he picked up a torch and lit it. "Oh my god, Arthur, your eyes...but you can't be..."
"You can't hold it against me because I already said I'm sorry," Arthur said promptly. "Just...you know why I'd keep it a secret, yeah?"
She nodded, slowly. "Is--is that how you knew Rowena--?"
"Sort of." Arthur adjusted his grip on the torch. "C'mon, there's someone I'd like you to meet."
They wound their way down through the dungeons, and Arthur tried to move briskly past the place where Gwen's father had died to spare her any memories; down the tunnels, past the broken gate, and Gwen was just starting to ask "Where are we?" when they came in sight of the cavern. Arthur rushed forward, hoping the dragon would be on the rock and ready to talk; and he got at least half of what he wanted.
The dragon was sprawled on the rock opposite the ledge. Its wings hung down limply, the membranes all eaten away so the bone spines that should've supported them were left to hang at twisted angles. Patches of scales were missing all over its visible body, revealing raw greenish flesh. Its head was hanging downward, eyes half-open and filmy, and when Arthur shouted "Hey! Hey, you!" it didn't react at all.
"Is that a dragon?" Gwen asked.
"It's meant to be," Arthur said. He found a few small stones and tried throwing them; the first one missed, and the second hit one massive foreleg and knocked another scale off. He let the rest drop. "Come on, you can't give up now! You're supposed to help me!"
The dragon raised its head, just enough to be level with the ledge, but didn't seem to be able to see them clearly. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," it said in a singsong voice. "The once and future king."
"Yes, me," Arthur said. "I need to know what's wrong with Merlin. And with me--the magic's not working right."
The dragon bobbed its head silently for a few minutes, then snorted a great deal of greasy black smoke with no flames. "Dark," it muttered. "Why's it so dark? Normally I've got excellent night vision..."
"I don't care about your fucking night vision!" Arthur screamed, forgetting briefly that there was a lady present. "There's no water left, the crops are going mad, Merlin's dying and I need to know how to fix it! Why won't the spell work?"
"Two sides of the same coin," the dragon murmured. "You and Merlin are bound to one another. It won't work without him."
"In case you haven't noticed, he's not a sorcerer anymore!" Arthur shot back. "Also, he's a wee bit delusional at the moment. How the hell is he supposed to help?"
The dragon took a deep breath, then two.
Arthur waited, leaning forward.
"Luuuuucy in the skyyyyy with diiiiiiaaaaamonds..." the dragon began to sing.
Arthur stared at it for a moment, while Gwen covered her ears, and had the terrible realization that he was on his own.
X
Gwen, of course, had eleven million questions, and the more she asked the more confused Arthur got about them until finally he just snarled "Leave it!" and accidentally lit a candle in a wall sconce. That was little comfort in the overall scheme of things, and Arthur was wearier than before when he stumbled back into Gaius's work room.
To find Gaius waiting for him, looking stone-faced and furious. "When I prescribe bed rest, I generally expect to find my patient either resting or in bed, if not both."
"Sorry," Arthur said. "I just...I had to go look for something."
Gaius held up the second Hermes Ring to glitter in the candlelight. "Not this, I hope?"
Arthur blinked at it for a moment. "You got that off Merlin?"
"I did," Gaius said. "And considering you also had one in your possession, a great number of things have suddenly become clear."
"Gaius, what are you talking about?" Gwen asked. "What is that? What's it got to do with Merlin?"
"Is Merlin okay?" Arthur asked, ignoring the question for a moment so he could flop onto one of Gaius's stools. "I mean, obviously not okay, but--"
"He's weak, but resting," Gaius said. "He hasn't regained consciousness, and his fever is getting steadily worse."
"But Arthur's getting better," Gwen said, and folded her arms again, drawing herself up to her full height (unimpressive though it might be) to glare at them. "I want to know what's going on here," she said, as commanding as any princess.
Gaius opened his mouth, but Arthur figured he could explain it faster and without the history lesson. "Merlin and I sort of...switched places," he said. "Not, like, bodies, but our lives. And until I figure out how to undo it, all this weirdness is going to carry on and get worse, until the world just...falls apart."
"You switched lives?" Gwen asked. "But...but that's impossible..."
"The magic of the rings is powerful enough to rewrite the past, alter memories, even twist the subtleties of bloodlines to its bidding," Gaius said. "But in every record I can find of their use, they have always been used by two sorcerers or two mundane men--never one of each."
"Is that why Merlin's sick?" Arthur said. "Because the magic's supposed to be his and not mine?"
"It's perfectly reasonable," Gaius said. "Although frankly, this is so far out of my depth..."
"We're all out of our depth," Arthur snapped.
Gwen swatted him on the shoulder--what happened to him being too frail to move? "Snapping at each other isn't going to help," she scolded.
Gaius continued. "Before I met you, Arthur--at least, according to my present memories--I had always understood magic to be a thing acquired with much study and practice. The magic you do is of a far different sort--innate and instinctual. It is a part of you as much as your arm or leg. I don't see how it could be transferred to another person without tremendous damage, to your soul if not your body."
"And yet, I'm the one lighting things on fires with my brain," Arthur said. He took a deep breath. "I can...when I'm close to Merlin, it feels like...like the magic's trying to get out. Get home, maybe."
"Which would explain why you lost consciousness when he did," Gaius said. "Arthur, whatever you do, you mustn't go near Merlin again until this is over."
"Excuse me?" Arthur asked. "If I've got a missing bit of his soul, I could save his life--"
"At the cost of your own," Gaius said. "Arthur, even if this magic originally came from Merlin, the rings have made it just as much a part of you. His gain is your loss, and you cannot help him and still muster the strength to stop the rings."
"It's not going to matter if he dies before we find the reversing spell," Arthur snapped. He was somewhat used to the idea that he was worth more than common people in various intangible ways, being a prince, but it never stopped rankling when that meant he couldn't take a perfectly reasonable risk, help where help was needed, follow some insignificant whim. And now that it was Merlin..."I'm forgetting things, Gaius," he confessed. "Yesterday morning I remembered perfectly how the world's supposed to be, and now it's all...mixed up...and the sicker Merlin gets, the more I lose."
Gwen took his hand and gave it a warm squeeze; Gaius looked even more troubled than before, eyebrows lowering severely. "Well," he finally said. "If that is the case, then we haven't a moment to waste. And with Gwen's help, the work should go that much faster..."
He started re-distributing the books, and Arthur groaned. Gwen asked, "But didn't you say you found something in Rowena's room? The spell that started it all?"
"Yeah, but I tried that one already and nothing happened," Arthur said.
"You didn't have both rings at the time," Gaius pointed out. "It certainly can't hurt to try it again."
So Arthur found the book and the spell, took one ring in each hand, and concentrated. This time he could feel something going on, not the usual easy rush of lighting fires and moving things; he could feel something building, that uncomfortable pressure under his skin, until he was sort of surprised that his hair wasn't standing on end with the force of it. He stared at the rings, and could nearly see the sparks flying between them...
And then all the magic seemed to rush out like a burst barrel. Arthur nearly threw the rings across the room. "It's useless," he declared. "Doesn't work."
"It was worth a try," Gwen said. "Maybe if Merlin has one--"
"Already tried that version," Arthur said.
"So we carry on," Gaius said, and opened a book. "If we put our minds to it, I'm sure we can find something by morning."
X
So they put their minds to it, poring over the most arcane and ancient texts in Gaius's library. For long stretches of time there was no sound but Gaius's occasional distracted snorts, or Gwen occasionally asking about an unfamiliar word; they also accused Arthur of tapping his fingers against the table while he read, though he considered that a bald-faced lie.
He wasn't sure how many hours actually passed like that, but Gaius eventually stood up with much alarming popping of the vertebrae and announced he was going to check on Merlin. Arthur took the chance to push his book away, coaxing an unnatural sound from his own back in the process; he wondered how long he'd had to rub his eyes to make them see straight again.
"What's it like?" Gwen suddenly blurted, startling him. She buried her face in book again. "Sorry. Never mind."
"What's what like?" Arthur asked, just for the change of pace.
"The other...I mean, the real world," she said shyly. "It's strange to think of it like that, isn't it? I mean, this all seems real enough to me...except for the part where you've been a warlock all this time and never told me..."
"Well, excuse me if I didn't want to get hanged," Arthur said. "Or force you to lie for me, which in some ways would be even worse."
"I think that was a nice thing to say?" Gwen said dubiously.
He sighed. "Sorry. I just...a little while ago this all felt like the biggest, strangest joke to ever happen to me, and now...that other world...it's starting to feel more like a dream."
Gwen set her book aside. "Maybe it'll help you remember to talk about it."
Arthur rocked his stool back on two legs like Gaius always told him he shouldn't and stared at the old stains and marks in the tabletop. "Well...I'm the prince," he said. "Feels a bit stupid to stay it like that. Everything else is pretty much the same--I mean, Morgana's the king's ward, you're her maid, Gaius is physician...Merlin's my manservant. I don't know what else to tell you."
"Do you like it?" Gwen asked. "I mean, not like it, but...well, if you've seen the difference now...would you switch? For good?"
"The fate of all Albion's a bit of a steep price for no fancy receptions," Arthur said.
Gwen rolled her eyes. "So if we weren't looking at the end of days, would you?"
Arthur followed a trace with his finger. "I...no. No, I wouldn't. This...even when my memories are starting to slip, I feel like this is wrong, Gwen, like...all my life, I've known that I'm supposed to be something better, something more that just a farmer or a servant, you know? I used to think magic would get me there, make me somebody strong, somebody respected. But instead I ended up shining Merlin's bloody boots."
"Magic doesn't seem to cause anything but trouble," Gwen said. "Well, I mean, not just trouble--but like--it makes a problem first and then it fixes it. Sometimes I can't fault the king for wanting to just be rid of the whole mess."
"No, see, you've got it the wrong way round," Arthur said. "Magic's just...it's like anything else. It's like a horse. No, not a horse--a hammer. You can break things with a hammer, sure, or you can build something or shape something, and the hammer doesn't know any different. Same hammer, but it's who uses it. Uther drove away or killed all the good magicians in Camelot, so we're just left with the bad ones, but if you start with good--if you decide only to use magic to help and not to hurt--one good warlock could do more for his people than any king."
Gwen blinked at him. "Sounds like you've worked it all out, haven't you?"
Arthur shrugged, but something about the motion sent a lance of pain through his head, like someone was stabbing him in the eye with a quill. "I--he did," he said. "This world's Arthur, the warlock. I...didn't know until last night that my manservant was casting spells behind my back, and I still don't think I've quite forgiven him for it."
"But do you agree with him?" Gwen asked. "Or yourself? Don't you have to agree with yourself?"
"I don't think there's actually a pronoun for this situation," Arthur said.
"Well, whatever," Gwen said. "Do you agree about the magic?"
Arthur shrugged. "It's an act of faith, isn't it? A good warlock can save a kingdom, but you have to trust that he is good, that he's not going to go mad or senile or just start turning people into toads all willy-nilly. You're putting your faith in him to do the right thing."
"And how's that different from a regular king?" Gwen asked. "I mean, U--anybody could start getting some funny ideas about justice, one way or another."
Arthur grimaced at what she almost said. "I guess you're right," he said. "But it's a bit easier to stop a king than a sorcerer of the Old Religion."
"Maybe to you," Gwen said. "I mean, you're sort of one of each right now, aren't you? The dragon called you a future king or something..."
"Right," Arthur said, and once again he felt like there was something on the tip of his tongue. "But so's Merlin, and he wasn't exactly eager to partner up for the brighter future of Albion," he added with a gesture at his bandaged neck.
"He's not thinking clearly," Gwen said, picking up her book again. "Put yourself in his place--I mean, you are in his place, right? He's feverish and we're all scared and I'm still not sure I believe half the things I've heard tonight."
Of course. Arthur, in Merlin's place--without the benefit of both sets of memories--he couldn't say what he'd have done. Probably sent Merlin into exile. In Brittany. Stuffed inside a barrel. A small barrel...
Gwen suddenly squeaked, and pointed at a page. "Arthur--what's 'concordance' mean?"
'Haven't a clue," he said. "What's it say?"
"'Then Urien the rings did gather, from the four corners of Albion, and brought them together in one place; and he spake these words of power, and the spheres did re-align, and all the world was brought back into concordance.' Arthur, I think this is it!"
He leap up and snatched the book out of her hands, locating the paragraph and scanning the words that followed.
Then he threw the book across the room. He did not set it on fire, but it was a very near thing.
"What's wrong?" Gwen asked. "Isn't that what you need?"
"It's the same bloody spell that switches them on!" Arthur said. "Word for word! Except the ones Rowena spelled wrong!"
"I...I don't understand," Gwen said. "It said right there he used it to stop the rings..."
Arthur slumped back at his stool and pressed his forehead against the worn tabletop. "That's it. We're doomed."
X
He wasn't aware of dozing off, but he awoke with a start anyway, from a peculiar dream about watching Merlin drink from a poisoned goblet, though he couldn't sort out where it had been or when. The room was still mostly dark, but Gwen had disappeared and Gaius was back, staring out the windows into a softly bluing sky. "What time's it?" Arthur asked, stifling a yawn.
"Just past dawn," Gaius said absently. "I didn't have the heart to wake you. I sent Guinevere back to bed."
He kneaded the back of his neck, which had twisted up horribly. "If it's dawn, why's it still so bloody dark?"
"That would be because the sun has chosen this morning to rise in the north," Gaius answered.
The words settled heavily in the air. Arthur rubbed his eyes. "We're not going to last another day, are we?" he asked quietly.
"I sincerely doubt it."
He didn't know whether to stand up, sit down, or just fall on the floor and swear at the impossible unfairness of the universe for a bit. "How's Merlin?" he asked.
"Alive, though barely," Gaius said. "I confess I grow tired of watching one or the other of you lingering for hours on your death bed."
"Yeah, well, it's no picnic for us, either," Arthur said. "Gaius, why won't the spell work? If it's the same one coming and going, it ought to work--Rowena made it work and I think she's squashed most of her brain under her pointy hats."
Gaius shook his head. "It may simply be too late. Magic is still a part of the natural order of things, and that has become so perturbed..."
"So do we just give up?" Arthur demanded. "Let the Old Religion tear itself apart?"
"I don't see that we have any choice," Gaius said. "I have found nothing else in all my library that could help us, neither scientific nor magical. What else is left?"
Something! Arthur wanted to say, because there was always something to do, some response that wasn't defeat and resignation. He climbed to his feet and stretched as best he could, then headed for the door. "I'm going to see Merlin," he said. Gaius started to protest. "If there's nothing we can do, then there's no reason not to, right?"
Gaius sighed. "Fine. But do be careful, Arthur."
He smirked, even though the humor felt forced. "When am I not careful?"
"Ever," Gaius said, and managed the ghost of a genuine smile.
Walking the halls of the castle felt strange with all the light coming through the wrong windows; there were fewer people moving about than normal, and Arthur imagined people hiding in their rooms, unable to face the world turned upside-down. He spotted Morgana in a courtyard, staggering about drunkenly and singing the same song the dragon had been, while Gwen and another maid tried to catch her; Arthur watched for a while, until a fine, greenish snow began to fall from the hazy sky, warm and dry and utterly unnatural.
He could fix this. He ought to be able to fix this. He'd held the power of life and death, once; he ought to be able to cast one stupid spell that would put the sun and moon back in order. Restore Morgana's mind. Save Merlin's life. And if it just so happened that the same spell made him a prince, gave him the status and respect he'd always dreamed of...
No. No, Arthur had that status, because he already was a prince, just a severely misplaced one. He had to hold onto that memory, if nothing else. Even if he died, he wasn't going to forget who he really was, and he owed it to Merlin to remember him, too. Even if it now seemed like he'd barely known Merlin at all. Arthur was a prince and he'd die with the dignity of one--sword in hand, he wanted to say, and actually it probably wouldn't be hard to steal one out of the armory just now, if only for appearances...which meant Merlin had a right to die like a warlock, whatever that meant...
No, actually, Arthur knew exactly what that meant. And with a pounding heart he suddenly realized why the dragon had said he'd need Merlin's help. Well, not so much realized it as imagined it, one possible scenario that was utterly insane, but that didn't seem to much of an impediment to anything else around Camelot these days, and it was better than sitting around and waiting for the sky to fall in. He checked his pockets, and yes, he'd managed to bring both the rings and Rowena's copy of the spell, so if this worked...
Well, if this worked it there was a good chance it would kill him. But Arthur had always known he was going to die in a fight, and the fact it wouldn't be one with swords suddenly wasn't important. He'd never thought he'd die as a peasant, but he'd already learned the lesson that his people were more important than his pride.
He ran flat-out to Merlin's room, and lit every torch and candle he passed along the way, probably scaring the few people out and about halfway to death. No matter; they'd blame it on the end of the world. At the doors he froze, struggling to catch his breath and checked again for the rings, both of them, and the spell. Nobody was in this part of the corridor, but Arthur still slipped into Merlin's room quietly and snatched a candlestick off the table to bar the door with before he even looked in the direction of the bed.
Merlin was, just as Arthur had been, naked on the bed, a damp cloth neglected on his brow, a sweaty sheet pulled up over his legs and no higher than the bare edge of modesty. His arms were spread slightly away from his sides and his breathing was shallow and rapid, like he was fighting some kind of intense pain and losing. Arthur put the rings and the spell on the bedside table, within reach, and thought about how exactly to do this. Hands on hands had hurt; hands on face had hurt a lot; the kissing, though, with their hands and mouths all over each other, hadn't hurt at all, so maybe it was a case of the more contact, the better? What the hell, why not. "This is not, for the record, how I actually wanted do this," Arthur said, as if Merlin were awake enough to hear him, and then he stripped out of his clothes and left them in a heap on the floor.
He pulled down the sheet and climbed onto the bed, and at the first touch of skin to skin the magic roared to life, clawing at the inside of Arthur's chest. This time Arthur let it: he wrapped himself around Merlin, basically pulled him into his lap, and watched his pale, clammy skin start to flush to a healthy color. He wrapped his arms loosely around Merlin's chest and pressed their legs together and finally let himself smell his dark hair, and it didn't hurt at all, it felt good--nice--warm but not burning. Even if it didn't work and they were all certain to die, Arthur decided he couldn't possibly regret this.
Merlin made a few small noises and started to move fitfully, so Arthur squeezed him gently. There was a very pleasant moment when Merlin turned his head and nuzzled blindly into Arthur's shoulder, but then reason must've returned, because his brow knit and at long last he opened his eyes. When he saw who he was cuddled against, he made a noise that just might've been a laugh. "Arthur," he said, layering so much meaning onto the two syllables that Arthur was surprised they didn't break.
"Yeah," he said, which felt foolish, but he didn't know what else to say, except possibly Surprise! Or, actually, there was also, "How do you feel?"
"I think this is what going mad feels like," Merlin said, and lay his head on Arthur's shoulder again. "Not all bad, surprisingly."
Arthur could've laid there like that for--well, a long time, without doing anything, but he knew that outside the four walls of the room the world was going to hell and they were running out of time. He spread his hands out over Merlin's ribs, feeling the subtle shifting as he breathed. "I realize this isn't the usual time and place for this sort of conversation, but...do you trust me?"
Merlin snorted. "Course I do, prat."
"I'm serious, Merlin," Arthur said.
Merlin looked up again, and rolled over heavily so he was on his front, mostly draped over Arthur. "When have you ever given me a reason not to?" Merlin asked.
Arthur's heart fluttered, because there were reasons--prince or pauper, he could suddenly think of several reasons why Merlin wouldn't, shouldn't trust him. In one world Arthur had kept the most serious of secrets; in the other he had made arrogant mistakes that nearly cost everything. But before he could voice the unexpected anxiety Merlin stretched up and kissed him, slow and sure, licking his way into his mouth and tangling one hand in his hair. With an argument like that, Arthur really had no choice but to kiss him back and slide his hands down Merlin's flanks, around to the ridge of his spine, and then lower; the thought crossed his mind lazily that hey, they were naked here, there were possibilities...
But Merlin was also trembling in a way that had nothing to do with Arthur's prowess as a kisser, and he couldn't forget the aberrations beyond the doors. He pulled his mouth back and said, "I need you do me a favor."
Merlin outright giggled at that, and dropped his head to rest on Arthur's collarbone. "I really, really wish that was your idea of a come-on."
Arthur let himself pet Merlin's hair, because he could do that, and it might be the only time he got to. "What do you remember?" he asked.
"Things." Merlin took a deep breath and let it out. "Lots of things. Things that don't make any sense."
"That's pretty much been the last three days," Arthur agreed. "And I can--you can fix it. But you just have to trust me."
Merlin looked up again and smiled, not the generous smile of a prince or the sharp-edged smile of a servant, but just Merlin, tired but game. "What do you need me to do?"
Arthur reached out to the nightstand and gathered what they needed. "Hold these," he said, pressing the rings into one of Merlin's hands. "And read this." He pressed Rowena's copy of the spell into the other.
Merlin rolled over, laboriously, so he was laying back against Arthur's chest again. "Just read it?" he asked.
"That's all," Arthur said, and thought about adding, I'm sorry, but it might stop Merlin from doing this and he was increasingly sure that was the only way to make it work. Which was the final proof that Merlin shouldn't trust him, not at all, but it had to be done. For the sake of all Camelot, and for Merlin's own heart beating steadily under his hands.
Merlin took a deep breath and started to slowly read out the spell, with lots of stops and pauses and misplaced accents. Arthur shut his eyes and pressed his face against Merlin's hair again, and he could feel the magic rising, obeying its proper master. He could feel it building just like when he'd tried the spell alone, rising up into an unbearable pressure, to the edge of bursting--
And then a numbness began to sweep Arthur's body, just like he'd hoped and feared. The magic kept building, and he tried to keep his grip firm on Merlin as the strength in his limbs flowed out into the spell. The Old Religion wouldn't break its rules for him; there could only be one warlock in Camelot, one with enough strength to make the spell work. Merlin would live, regain the lost piece of his soul, and Camelot would be safe, and for Arthur, that was worth all the thousands of lost futures he could've dreamed.
He managed to kiss Merlin's hair one last time before everything went dark.
X
Arthur awoke in a prince's suite, in a bed of satin and velvet and goosedown, and as soon as he realized this he sat bolt upright and threw the Hermes Ring in his hand across the room. The sunlight through the window was bright and, as far as he could tell, coming from the usual direction; his hand flew to his throat and he felt no bandage, no cut. His sword was still in his room and he happily hacked his least-favorite chair to pieces with it just to prove he could, then tried to set the pieces on fire with his mind just to prove he couldn't. Merlin was nowhere to be see, which meant--
Arthur ran into the hall and grabbed the first servant he saw passing--possibly a Gregory, but different to the other one. "You! Over there! What day is it today?"
The servant blinked slightly at the prince in his royal nightshirt standing bare-legged in the hall. "Friday?" he answered warily.
"Friday," Arthur repeated. The same day he'd woken up a peasant, which meant nothing had actually happened. "Of course it is. God, I love Fridays." He was so overexcited that he kissed maybe-a-Gregory on the cheek before stomping back into the room to get dressed properly.
He was only halfway there, though, when the thought occurred to him that Merlin wasn't in the room. If it was still Friday, Merlin ought to be in his own room, of course. But Gaius had been so certain that the Old Religion would kill one of them--and granted, maybe they'd put things in order before then--but still--
Arthur ran flat-out for Merlin's room, and this time there was no misplaced magic to light the candles, but the breeze of his passing was almost enough to put a few of them out.
He burst into Gaius's rooms as Gaius was just sitting down to breakfast. "I went mad but I got better, I'll explain later," Arthur shouted as he ran past, into Merlin's room, and when Gaius seemed likely to follow him, Arthur shut the door and put all his weight against it.
Merlin was sprawled untidily on the bed, undisturbed by Arthur's commotion; every three or four breaths he snored or made one of those ridiculous smacking sounds, but that was okay, because everybody was alive and well and, as far as Arthur could see, as sane as they'd started out. Though he should check on Morgana, just to make sure. Later, though. Much, much, later. Because now that he was certain Merlin was safe and alive, Arthur discovered there were a few other things on his priority list.
As soon as he was sure Gaius wasn't going to try to investigate, Arthur pulled away from the door and crossed to the loose floorboard where the spellbook was kept. He no longer felt anything particularly unique about it, though the newt spell was still marked with a bit of string. He dropped the book on the bed, right in Merlin's lap, shocking him out of his sleep: Merlin scrabbled upright and looked around, looking at the book and at Arthur with dull sleepy shock. Arthur could just about read Merlin's mind through his face: the way his eyebrows dropped and eyes widened when he made the connection between Arthur and spellbook, the sharp snap of his head as he searched Arthur's face, an equally sharp look down at the Hermes Ring clutched loosely in one hand, and then a bug-eyed, open-mouth expression of horror that could only mean he had just remembered everything.
"So this is what we'll do," Arthur said, once he'd given Merlin adequate time to freak out. "First, we're going to have a talk. Second, we're going to have sex. Third, we're going to kill Rowena. Fourth, we will either have more sex or go punch the damn dragon, depending on how late it's gotten and our respective moods. That sound like an appropriate agenda to you?"
Merlin gaped like a fish for a minute, then said, "You--that--I....okay."
"Okay?" Arthur echoed. "Just okay?"
"As long as you explain to me what the fuck happened last night, okay," Merlin said. He even scooted over on the bed, creating a space for Arthur to sit in, which he did. "I mean, you did just offer me sex and all, so it'd be kind of rude..."
"It'd be a lot more than rude," Arthur said, leaning against Merlin's thin pillow and running a hand over the mess of scratchy sheets. There was a moment of precipitous uncertainty, because he knew things in that other twisted world didn't necessarily mean anything for this one; then Merlin hesitantly caught Arthur's hand with his own, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, like he was asking permission, which Arthur gladly gave.
It was a soft, chaste kiss, which on one hand a was bit silly of them, but really, it was just meant as a promise of what was to come. Arthur made himself pull back from it and pull the book up to rest across both their laps. "So, first question," he said, leaning into Merlin's shoulder. "Can you really turn someone into a newt?"
END
Part One
Part Two
Author: mad_maudlin
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, and also Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: All episodes
Warnings: Crack, shovels, massive rupture of the fourth wall.
Summary: Arthur wanted to know what was going on in Merlin's head. He just didn't mean it so literally.
Waking up in the aftermath was like the worst hangover Arthur had ever had; every part of him hurt in a slightly different way and he could sort out neither time nor space. He was back in his room, he could tell that, and naked; one thin sheet was pulled up to his waist for modesty's sake. The sky outside his window was still dark, and a single candle lit the room. He remembered...lots of things, actually, but all in a jumble, like someone had ripped pages from a book and shuffled them around. There was a curse, or a spell, or something, like when Merlin had accidentally shot the unicorn, only worse...and Merlin was ill...and he, Arthur, he had do...or be...or something...
The door of his room opened, but it was Gwen, not Gaius, and she was carrying a bowl and a rag. "Oh!" she said. "You're awake. Gaius said the fever might not break until morning."
"What happened?" Arthur asked blearily, trying to push himself up.
Gwen was instantly at his side, pushing him back down far too easily. "No, don't, you're sick...you sent someone to Gaius saying Prince Merlin was ill, and when he got there you were both unconscious on the floor. The king is afraid it's another plague." She dipped her rag in the water, wrung it out and laid it across Arthur's forehead; it was blessedly cool, and he sighed in relief. "Gaius is with Merlin now, he asked me to mind you until he got back."
"Where'd you get the water?" Arthur asked, seizing onto a clear memory of cisterns full of pale blue jelly.
"Oh! I took it from the rain barrels," she said with an embarrassed little smile. "I know it's not the cleanest, but it's all we've got, and we're pretty sure we got all the froggy bits out..."
He swiped the rag off his forehead and sat up, and this time Gwen didn't try to stop him; he felt weak and shaky all over, and the sheets were sticking to his skin from old sweat. He was starting to remember now--not perfectly, and in fact there were some terrifying gaps, but he remembered more or less what he had to do and it started with that damn dragon. "Could you," he asked, then swallowed hard in his dry throat. "Could you get me my clothes? I need to...talk to somebody."
She looked at him like he was insane. "Arthur, you passed out only a couple hours ago, and it's the middle of the night. Even if anyone was awake to talk to, you're in no shape to be up walking around."
"It's important," he said. He tried to scratch at the cut on his throat, but it had already been bandaged. "I mean really important. Save-the-world important."
Gwen bit her lower lip. "Has it got something to do with Rowena?"
"Sort of," Arthur said. "It's complicated."
"And it can't wait until morning?"
Arthur just stared at her. "Gwen, Merlin might be dead by morning. There might not be a Camelot in the morning. No."
She hesitated only a minute longer, then drew herself upright and stared him sternly down. "Fine. Then I'll come with you."
"No," Arthur said. "I mean, there's no point in you getting in trouble with Gaius, too. And doesn't Morgana need you?"
"Morgana's been unconscious since lunch," Gwen said bitterly. "And I'll be in even worse trouble if I let you go alone and you fall down a flight of steps or something."
"Fine," Arthur said, unable to spare the energy to argue. "You can come. But I still need my clothes."
Gwen let him alone to dress, and no matter how shaky Arthur's limbs felt, the image of Merlin lying death-like on the ground kept him moving quickly. He had to sit down to get his breeches on, and he stole a moment to breathe deeply and try to finish clearing his head. There was a spell, right, and he needed to break it, because...because he wasn't supposed to be here, wasn't supposed to be this. Whatever that meant. He glanced at the candle, and as an experiment, tried to put it out by magic.
Nothing happened.
Swallowing hard, Arthur tried a second time, and the room plunged into darkness, but it felt--wrong. Weak. Like the magic was coming from somewhere far away. Which both did and didn't make sense, and that was why he was going to see the dragon, because how was he meant to solve a magical crisis if there wasn't any magic to solve it with?
He re-lit the candle so he could finish dressing, and then, even though it was disgusting, took a sip of water from the bowl to sooth his parched throat. Gwen was waiting for him in Gaius's main workroom, and she brought her own candle so they could make their way down to the dungeons. The castle seemed quiet, though he didn't have the first idea about the time; maybe the residents were all hiding in their rooms, afraid of what new aberrations the night would bring. Frankly, he wouldn't blame anybody for boarding up the windows and hiding under the bed at this point. He wondered what it was like, when you could wait for someone else to save the world.
"Are we going to the dungeon?" Gwen asked after a short while.
"Under the dungeon, actually," Arthur said. The walking around actually seemed to be helping him; he felt stronger, and his mind clearer, and the details were starting to come back to him, though far too sluggishly for his liking. They came to the top of the dungeon stairs, and Arthur reached around to pinch out Gwen's candle with his fingers. "All right, you're going to trust me for this part."
"Of course I trust you," Gwen said. "But the guards--"
"That's what you need to trust me for," he said. "And...for the record, I'm sorry for this bit."
"Arthur, what--" But he hushed her, and she obeyed, creeping down the stairs behind him to just within sight of the dungeon guards. They weren't dicing tonight; they were tense, scared as everyone in Camelot was scared, but they still couldn't see in the dark. Arthur put out the torches--he had to stretch out his hand and really push them out, and Gwen pressed a hand to her mouth to smother her own squeak of surprise. He took her other wrist and they darted right through the confusion and around the curve, where Arthur found the torches by tripping over them, again.
"Arthur what was--oh my god," Gwen said, as he picked up a torch and lit it. "Oh my god, Arthur, your eyes...but you can't be..."
"You can't hold it against me because I already said I'm sorry," Arthur said promptly. "Just...you know why I'd keep it a secret, yeah?"
She nodded, slowly. "Is--is that how you knew Rowena--?"
"Sort of." Arthur adjusted his grip on the torch. "C'mon, there's someone I'd like you to meet."
They wound their way down through the dungeons, and Arthur tried to move briskly past the place where Gwen's father had died to spare her any memories; down the tunnels, past the broken gate, and Gwen was just starting to ask "Where are we?" when they came in sight of the cavern. Arthur rushed forward, hoping the dragon would be on the rock and ready to talk; and he got at least half of what he wanted.
The dragon was sprawled on the rock opposite the ledge. Its wings hung down limply, the membranes all eaten away so the bone spines that should've supported them were left to hang at twisted angles. Patches of scales were missing all over its visible body, revealing raw greenish flesh. Its head was hanging downward, eyes half-open and filmy, and when Arthur shouted "Hey! Hey, you!" it didn't react at all.
"Is that a dragon?" Gwen asked.
"It's meant to be," Arthur said. He found a few small stones and tried throwing them; the first one missed, and the second hit one massive foreleg and knocked another scale off. He let the rest drop. "Come on, you can't give up now! You're supposed to help me!"
The dragon raised its head, just enough to be level with the ledge, but didn't seem to be able to see them clearly. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," it said in a singsong voice. "The once and future king."
"Yes, me," Arthur said. "I need to know what's wrong with Merlin. And with me--the magic's not working right."
The dragon bobbed its head silently for a few minutes, then snorted a great deal of greasy black smoke with no flames. "Dark," it muttered. "Why's it so dark? Normally I've got excellent night vision..."
"I don't care about your fucking night vision!" Arthur screamed, forgetting briefly that there was a lady present. "There's no water left, the crops are going mad, Merlin's dying and I need to know how to fix it! Why won't the spell work?"
"Two sides of the same coin," the dragon murmured. "You and Merlin are bound to one another. It won't work without him."
"In case you haven't noticed, he's not a sorcerer anymore!" Arthur shot back. "Also, he's a wee bit delusional at the moment. How the hell is he supposed to help?"
The dragon took a deep breath, then two.
Arthur waited, leaning forward.
"Luuuuucy in the skyyyyy with diiiiiiaaaaamonds..." the dragon began to sing.
Arthur stared at it for a moment, while Gwen covered her ears, and had the terrible realization that he was on his own.
X
Gwen, of course, had eleven million questions, and the more she asked the more confused Arthur got about them until finally he just snarled "Leave it!" and accidentally lit a candle in a wall sconce. That was little comfort in the overall scheme of things, and Arthur was wearier than before when he stumbled back into Gaius's work room.
To find Gaius waiting for him, looking stone-faced and furious. "When I prescribe bed rest, I generally expect to find my patient either resting or in bed, if not both."
"Sorry," Arthur said. "I just...I had to go look for something."
Gaius held up the second Hermes Ring to glitter in the candlelight. "Not this, I hope?"
Arthur blinked at it for a moment. "You got that off Merlin?"
"I did," Gaius said. "And considering you also had one in your possession, a great number of things have suddenly become clear."
"Gaius, what are you talking about?" Gwen asked. "What is that? What's it got to do with Merlin?"
"Is Merlin okay?" Arthur asked, ignoring the question for a moment so he could flop onto one of Gaius's stools. "I mean, obviously not okay, but--"
"He's weak, but resting," Gaius said. "He hasn't regained consciousness, and his fever is getting steadily worse."
"But Arthur's getting better," Gwen said, and folded her arms again, drawing herself up to her full height (unimpressive though it might be) to glare at them. "I want to know what's going on here," she said, as commanding as any princess.
Gaius opened his mouth, but Arthur figured he could explain it faster and without the history lesson. "Merlin and I sort of...switched places," he said. "Not, like, bodies, but our lives. And until I figure out how to undo it, all this weirdness is going to carry on and get worse, until the world just...falls apart."
"You switched lives?" Gwen asked. "But...but that's impossible..."
"The magic of the rings is powerful enough to rewrite the past, alter memories, even twist the subtleties of bloodlines to its bidding," Gaius said. "But in every record I can find of their use, they have always been used by two sorcerers or two mundane men--never one of each."
"Is that why Merlin's sick?" Arthur said. "Because the magic's supposed to be his and not mine?"
"It's perfectly reasonable," Gaius said. "Although frankly, this is so far out of my depth..."
"We're all out of our depth," Arthur snapped.
Gwen swatted him on the shoulder--what happened to him being too frail to move? "Snapping at each other isn't going to help," she scolded.
Gaius continued. "Before I met you, Arthur--at least, according to my present memories--I had always understood magic to be a thing acquired with much study and practice. The magic you do is of a far different sort--innate and instinctual. It is a part of you as much as your arm or leg. I don't see how it could be transferred to another person without tremendous damage, to your soul if not your body."
"And yet, I'm the one lighting things on fires with my brain," Arthur said. He took a deep breath. "I can...when I'm close to Merlin, it feels like...like the magic's trying to get out. Get home, maybe."
"Which would explain why you lost consciousness when he did," Gaius said. "Arthur, whatever you do, you mustn't go near Merlin again until this is over."
"Excuse me?" Arthur asked. "If I've got a missing bit of his soul, I could save his life--"
"At the cost of your own," Gaius said. "Arthur, even if this magic originally came from Merlin, the rings have made it just as much a part of you. His gain is your loss, and you cannot help him and still muster the strength to stop the rings."
"It's not going to matter if he dies before we find the reversing spell," Arthur snapped. He was somewhat used to the idea that he was worth more than common people in various intangible ways, being a prince, but it never stopped rankling when that meant he couldn't take a perfectly reasonable risk, help where help was needed, follow some insignificant whim. And now that it was Merlin..."I'm forgetting things, Gaius," he confessed. "Yesterday morning I remembered perfectly how the world's supposed to be, and now it's all...mixed up...and the sicker Merlin gets, the more I lose."
Gwen took his hand and gave it a warm squeeze; Gaius looked even more troubled than before, eyebrows lowering severely. "Well," he finally said. "If that is the case, then we haven't a moment to waste. And with Gwen's help, the work should go that much faster..."
He started re-distributing the books, and Arthur groaned. Gwen asked, "But didn't you say you found something in Rowena's room? The spell that started it all?"
"Yeah, but I tried that one already and nothing happened," Arthur said.
"You didn't have both rings at the time," Gaius pointed out. "It certainly can't hurt to try it again."
So Arthur found the book and the spell, took one ring in each hand, and concentrated. This time he could feel something going on, not the usual easy rush of lighting fires and moving things; he could feel something building, that uncomfortable pressure under his skin, until he was sort of surprised that his hair wasn't standing on end with the force of it. He stared at the rings, and could nearly see the sparks flying between them...
And then all the magic seemed to rush out like a burst barrel. Arthur nearly threw the rings across the room. "It's useless," he declared. "Doesn't work."
"It was worth a try," Gwen said. "Maybe if Merlin has one--"
"Already tried that version," Arthur said.
"So we carry on," Gaius said, and opened a book. "If we put our minds to it, I'm sure we can find something by morning."
X
So they put their minds to it, poring over the most arcane and ancient texts in Gaius's library. For long stretches of time there was no sound but Gaius's occasional distracted snorts, or Gwen occasionally asking about an unfamiliar word; they also accused Arthur of tapping his fingers against the table while he read, though he considered that a bald-faced lie.
He wasn't sure how many hours actually passed like that, but Gaius eventually stood up with much alarming popping of the vertebrae and announced he was going to check on Merlin. Arthur took the chance to push his book away, coaxing an unnatural sound from his own back in the process; he wondered how long he'd had to rub his eyes to make them see straight again.
"What's it like?" Gwen suddenly blurted, startling him. She buried her face in book again. "Sorry. Never mind."
"What's what like?" Arthur asked, just for the change of pace.
"The other...I mean, the real world," she said shyly. "It's strange to think of it like that, isn't it? I mean, this all seems real enough to me...except for the part where you've been a warlock all this time and never told me..."
"Well, excuse me if I didn't want to get hanged," Arthur said. "Or force you to lie for me, which in some ways would be even worse."
"I think that was a nice thing to say?" Gwen said dubiously.
He sighed. "Sorry. I just...a little while ago this all felt like the biggest, strangest joke to ever happen to me, and now...that other world...it's starting to feel more like a dream."
Gwen set her book aside. "Maybe it'll help you remember to talk about it."
Arthur rocked his stool back on two legs like Gaius always told him he shouldn't and stared at the old stains and marks in the tabletop. "Well...I'm the prince," he said. "Feels a bit stupid to stay it like that. Everything else is pretty much the same--I mean, Morgana's the king's ward, you're her maid, Gaius is physician...Merlin's my manservant. I don't know what else to tell you."
"Do you like it?" Gwen asked. "I mean, not like it, but...well, if you've seen the difference now...would you switch? For good?"
"The fate of all Albion's a bit of a steep price for no fancy receptions," Arthur said.
Gwen rolled her eyes. "So if we weren't looking at the end of days, would you?"
Arthur followed a trace with his finger. "I...no. No, I wouldn't. This...even when my memories are starting to slip, I feel like this is wrong, Gwen, like...all my life, I've known that I'm supposed to be something better, something more that just a farmer or a servant, you know? I used to think magic would get me there, make me somebody strong, somebody respected. But instead I ended up shining Merlin's bloody boots."
"Magic doesn't seem to cause anything but trouble," Gwen said. "Well, I mean, not just trouble--but like--it makes a problem first and then it fixes it. Sometimes I can't fault the king for wanting to just be rid of the whole mess."
"No, see, you've got it the wrong way round," Arthur said. "Magic's just...it's like anything else. It's like a horse. No, not a horse--a hammer. You can break things with a hammer, sure, or you can build something or shape something, and the hammer doesn't know any different. Same hammer, but it's who uses it. Uther drove away or killed all the good magicians in Camelot, so we're just left with the bad ones, but if you start with good--if you decide only to use magic to help and not to hurt--one good warlock could do more for his people than any king."
Gwen blinked at him. "Sounds like you've worked it all out, haven't you?"
Arthur shrugged, but something about the motion sent a lance of pain through his head, like someone was stabbing him in the eye with a quill. "I--he did," he said. "This world's Arthur, the warlock. I...didn't know until last night that my manservant was casting spells behind my back, and I still don't think I've quite forgiven him for it."
"But do you agree with him?" Gwen asked. "Or yourself? Don't you have to agree with yourself?"
"I don't think there's actually a pronoun for this situation," Arthur said.
"Well, whatever," Gwen said. "Do you agree about the magic?"
Arthur shrugged. "It's an act of faith, isn't it? A good warlock can save a kingdom, but you have to trust that he is good, that he's not going to go mad or senile or just start turning people into toads all willy-nilly. You're putting your faith in him to do the right thing."
"And how's that different from a regular king?" Gwen asked. "I mean, U--anybody could start getting some funny ideas about justice, one way or another."
Arthur grimaced at what she almost said. "I guess you're right," he said. "But it's a bit easier to stop a king than a sorcerer of the Old Religion."
"Maybe to you," Gwen said. "I mean, you're sort of one of each right now, aren't you? The dragon called you a future king or something..."
"Right," Arthur said, and once again he felt like there was something on the tip of his tongue. "But so's Merlin, and he wasn't exactly eager to partner up for the brighter future of Albion," he added with a gesture at his bandaged neck.
"He's not thinking clearly," Gwen said, picking up her book again. "Put yourself in his place--I mean, you are in his place, right? He's feverish and we're all scared and I'm still not sure I believe half the things I've heard tonight."
Of course. Arthur, in Merlin's place--without the benefit of both sets of memories--he couldn't say what he'd have done. Probably sent Merlin into exile. In Brittany. Stuffed inside a barrel. A small barrel...
Gwen suddenly squeaked, and pointed at a page. "Arthur--what's 'concordance' mean?"
'Haven't a clue," he said. "What's it say?"
"'Then Urien the rings did gather, from the four corners of Albion, and brought them together in one place; and he spake these words of power, and the spheres did re-align, and all the world was brought back into concordance.' Arthur, I think this is it!"
He leap up and snatched the book out of her hands, locating the paragraph and scanning the words that followed.
Then he threw the book across the room. He did not set it on fire, but it was a very near thing.
"What's wrong?" Gwen asked. "Isn't that what you need?"
"It's the same bloody spell that switches them on!" Arthur said. "Word for word! Except the ones Rowena spelled wrong!"
"I...I don't understand," Gwen said. "It said right there he used it to stop the rings..."
Arthur slumped back at his stool and pressed his forehead against the worn tabletop. "That's it. We're doomed."
X
He wasn't aware of dozing off, but he awoke with a start anyway, from a peculiar dream about watching Merlin drink from a poisoned goblet, though he couldn't sort out where it had been or when. The room was still mostly dark, but Gwen had disappeared and Gaius was back, staring out the windows into a softly bluing sky. "What time's it?" Arthur asked, stifling a yawn.
"Just past dawn," Gaius said absently. "I didn't have the heart to wake you. I sent Guinevere back to bed."
He kneaded the back of his neck, which had twisted up horribly. "If it's dawn, why's it still so bloody dark?"
"That would be because the sun has chosen this morning to rise in the north," Gaius answered.
The words settled heavily in the air. Arthur rubbed his eyes. "We're not going to last another day, are we?" he asked quietly.
"I sincerely doubt it."
He didn't know whether to stand up, sit down, or just fall on the floor and swear at the impossible unfairness of the universe for a bit. "How's Merlin?" he asked.
"Alive, though barely," Gaius said. "I confess I grow tired of watching one or the other of you lingering for hours on your death bed."
"Yeah, well, it's no picnic for us, either," Arthur said. "Gaius, why won't the spell work? If it's the same one coming and going, it ought to work--Rowena made it work and I think she's squashed most of her brain under her pointy hats."
Gaius shook his head. "It may simply be too late. Magic is still a part of the natural order of things, and that has become so perturbed..."
"So do we just give up?" Arthur demanded. "Let the Old Religion tear itself apart?"
"I don't see that we have any choice," Gaius said. "I have found nothing else in all my library that could help us, neither scientific nor magical. What else is left?"
Something! Arthur wanted to say, because there was always something to do, some response that wasn't defeat and resignation. He climbed to his feet and stretched as best he could, then headed for the door. "I'm going to see Merlin," he said. Gaius started to protest. "If there's nothing we can do, then there's no reason not to, right?"
Gaius sighed. "Fine. But do be careful, Arthur."
He smirked, even though the humor felt forced. "When am I not careful?"
"Ever," Gaius said, and managed the ghost of a genuine smile.
Walking the halls of the castle felt strange with all the light coming through the wrong windows; there were fewer people moving about than normal, and Arthur imagined people hiding in their rooms, unable to face the world turned upside-down. He spotted Morgana in a courtyard, staggering about drunkenly and singing the same song the dragon had been, while Gwen and another maid tried to catch her; Arthur watched for a while, until a fine, greenish snow began to fall from the hazy sky, warm and dry and utterly unnatural.
He could fix this. He ought to be able to fix this. He'd held the power of life and death, once; he ought to be able to cast one stupid spell that would put the sun and moon back in order. Restore Morgana's mind. Save Merlin's life. And if it just so happened that the same spell made him a prince, gave him the status and respect he'd always dreamed of...
No. No, Arthur had that status, because he already was a prince, just a severely misplaced one. He had to hold onto that memory, if nothing else. Even if he died, he wasn't going to forget who he really was, and he owed it to Merlin to remember him, too. Even if it now seemed like he'd barely known Merlin at all. Arthur was a prince and he'd die with the dignity of one--sword in hand, he wanted to say, and actually it probably wouldn't be hard to steal one out of the armory just now, if only for appearances...which meant Merlin had a right to die like a warlock, whatever that meant...
No, actually, Arthur knew exactly what that meant. And with a pounding heart he suddenly realized why the dragon had said he'd need Merlin's help. Well, not so much realized it as imagined it, one possible scenario that was utterly insane, but that didn't seem to much of an impediment to anything else around Camelot these days, and it was better than sitting around and waiting for the sky to fall in. He checked his pockets, and yes, he'd managed to bring both the rings and Rowena's copy of the spell, so if this worked...
Well, if this worked it there was a good chance it would kill him. But Arthur had always known he was going to die in a fight, and the fact it wouldn't be one with swords suddenly wasn't important. He'd never thought he'd die as a peasant, but he'd already learned the lesson that his people were more important than his pride.
He ran flat-out to Merlin's room, and lit every torch and candle he passed along the way, probably scaring the few people out and about halfway to death. No matter; they'd blame it on the end of the world. At the doors he froze, struggling to catch his breath and checked again for the rings, both of them, and the spell. Nobody was in this part of the corridor, but Arthur still slipped into Merlin's room quietly and snatched a candlestick off the table to bar the door with before he even looked in the direction of the bed.
Merlin was, just as Arthur had been, naked on the bed, a damp cloth neglected on his brow, a sweaty sheet pulled up over his legs and no higher than the bare edge of modesty. His arms were spread slightly away from his sides and his breathing was shallow and rapid, like he was fighting some kind of intense pain and losing. Arthur put the rings and the spell on the bedside table, within reach, and thought about how exactly to do this. Hands on hands had hurt; hands on face had hurt a lot; the kissing, though, with their hands and mouths all over each other, hadn't hurt at all, so maybe it was a case of the more contact, the better? What the hell, why not. "This is not, for the record, how I actually wanted do this," Arthur said, as if Merlin were awake enough to hear him, and then he stripped out of his clothes and left them in a heap on the floor.
He pulled down the sheet and climbed onto the bed, and at the first touch of skin to skin the magic roared to life, clawing at the inside of Arthur's chest. This time Arthur let it: he wrapped himself around Merlin, basically pulled him into his lap, and watched his pale, clammy skin start to flush to a healthy color. He wrapped his arms loosely around Merlin's chest and pressed their legs together and finally let himself smell his dark hair, and it didn't hurt at all, it felt good--nice--warm but not burning. Even if it didn't work and they were all certain to die, Arthur decided he couldn't possibly regret this.
Merlin made a few small noises and started to move fitfully, so Arthur squeezed him gently. There was a very pleasant moment when Merlin turned his head and nuzzled blindly into Arthur's shoulder, but then reason must've returned, because his brow knit and at long last he opened his eyes. When he saw who he was cuddled against, he made a noise that just might've been a laugh. "Arthur," he said, layering so much meaning onto the two syllables that Arthur was surprised they didn't break.
"Yeah," he said, which felt foolish, but he didn't know what else to say, except possibly Surprise! Or, actually, there was also, "How do you feel?"
"I think this is what going mad feels like," Merlin said, and lay his head on Arthur's shoulder again. "Not all bad, surprisingly."
Arthur could've laid there like that for--well, a long time, without doing anything, but he knew that outside the four walls of the room the world was going to hell and they were running out of time. He spread his hands out over Merlin's ribs, feeling the subtle shifting as he breathed. "I realize this isn't the usual time and place for this sort of conversation, but...do you trust me?"
Merlin snorted. "Course I do, prat."
"I'm serious, Merlin," Arthur said.
Merlin looked up again, and rolled over heavily so he was on his front, mostly draped over Arthur. "When have you ever given me a reason not to?" Merlin asked.
Arthur's heart fluttered, because there were reasons--prince or pauper, he could suddenly think of several reasons why Merlin wouldn't, shouldn't trust him. In one world Arthur had kept the most serious of secrets; in the other he had made arrogant mistakes that nearly cost everything. But before he could voice the unexpected anxiety Merlin stretched up and kissed him, slow and sure, licking his way into his mouth and tangling one hand in his hair. With an argument like that, Arthur really had no choice but to kiss him back and slide his hands down Merlin's flanks, around to the ridge of his spine, and then lower; the thought crossed his mind lazily that hey, they were naked here, there were possibilities...
But Merlin was also trembling in a way that had nothing to do with Arthur's prowess as a kisser, and he couldn't forget the aberrations beyond the doors. He pulled his mouth back and said, "I need you do me a favor."
Merlin outright giggled at that, and dropped his head to rest on Arthur's collarbone. "I really, really wish that was your idea of a come-on."
Arthur let himself pet Merlin's hair, because he could do that, and it might be the only time he got to. "What do you remember?" he asked.
"Things." Merlin took a deep breath and let it out. "Lots of things. Things that don't make any sense."
"That's pretty much been the last three days," Arthur agreed. "And I can--you can fix it. But you just have to trust me."
Merlin looked up again and smiled, not the generous smile of a prince or the sharp-edged smile of a servant, but just Merlin, tired but game. "What do you need me to do?"
Arthur reached out to the nightstand and gathered what they needed. "Hold these," he said, pressing the rings into one of Merlin's hands. "And read this." He pressed Rowena's copy of the spell into the other.
Merlin rolled over, laboriously, so he was laying back against Arthur's chest again. "Just read it?" he asked.
"That's all," Arthur said, and thought about adding, I'm sorry, but it might stop Merlin from doing this and he was increasingly sure that was the only way to make it work. Which was the final proof that Merlin shouldn't trust him, not at all, but it had to be done. For the sake of all Camelot, and for Merlin's own heart beating steadily under his hands.
Merlin took a deep breath and started to slowly read out the spell, with lots of stops and pauses and misplaced accents. Arthur shut his eyes and pressed his face against Merlin's hair again, and he could feel the magic rising, obeying its proper master. He could feel it building just like when he'd tried the spell alone, rising up into an unbearable pressure, to the edge of bursting--
And then a numbness began to sweep Arthur's body, just like he'd hoped and feared. The magic kept building, and he tried to keep his grip firm on Merlin as the strength in his limbs flowed out into the spell. The Old Religion wouldn't break its rules for him; there could only be one warlock in Camelot, one with enough strength to make the spell work. Merlin would live, regain the lost piece of his soul, and Camelot would be safe, and for Arthur, that was worth all the thousands of lost futures he could've dreamed.
He managed to kiss Merlin's hair one last time before everything went dark.
X
Arthur awoke in a prince's suite, in a bed of satin and velvet and goosedown, and as soon as he realized this he sat bolt upright and threw the Hermes Ring in his hand across the room. The sunlight through the window was bright and, as far as he could tell, coming from the usual direction; his hand flew to his throat and he felt no bandage, no cut. His sword was still in his room and he happily hacked his least-favorite chair to pieces with it just to prove he could, then tried to set the pieces on fire with his mind just to prove he couldn't. Merlin was nowhere to be see, which meant--
Arthur ran into the hall and grabbed the first servant he saw passing--possibly a Gregory, but different to the other one. "You! Over there! What day is it today?"
The servant blinked slightly at the prince in his royal nightshirt standing bare-legged in the hall. "Friday?" he answered warily.
"Friday," Arthur repeated. The same day he'd woken up a peasant, which meant nothing had actually happened. "Of course it is. God, I love Fridays." He was so overexcited that he kissed maybe-a-Gregory on the cheek before stomping back into the room to get dressed properly.
He was only halfway there, though, when the thought occurred to him that Merlin wasn't in the room. If it was still Friday, Merlin ought to be in his own room, of course. But Gaius had been so certain that the Old Religion would kill one of them--and granted, maybe they'd put things in order before then--but still--
Arthur ran flat-out for Merlin's room, and this time there was no misplaced magic to light the candles, but the breeze of his passing was almost enough to put a few of them out.
He burst into Gaius's rooms as Gaius was just sitting down to breakfast. "I went mad but I got better, I'll explain later," Arthur shouted as he ran past, into Merlin's room, and when Gaius seemed likely to follow him, Arthur shut the door and put all his weight against it.
Merlin was sprawled untidily on the bed, undisturbed by Arthur's commotion; every three or four breaths he snored or made one of those ridiculous smacking sounds, but that was okay, because everybody was alive and well and, as far as Arthur could see, as sane as they'd started out. Though he should check on Morgana, just to make sure. Later, though. Much, much, later. Because now that he was certain Merlin was safe and alive, Arthur discovered there were a few other things on his priority list.
As soon as he was sure Gaius wasn't going to try to investigate, Arthur pulled away from the door and crossed to the loose floorboard where the spellbook was kept. He no longer felt anything particularly unique about it, though the newt spell was still marked with a bit of string. He dropped the book on the bed, right in Merlin's lap, shocking him out of his sleep: Merlin scrabbled upright and looked around, looking at the book and at Arthur with dull sleepy shock. Arthur could just about read Merlin's mind through his face: the way his eyebrows dropped and eyes widened when he made the connection between Arthur and spellbook, the sharp snap of his head as he searched Arthur's face, an equally sharp look down at the Hermes Ring clutched loosely in one hand, and then a bug-eyed, open-mouth expression of horror that could only mean he had just remembered everything.
"So this is what we'll do," Arthur said, once he'd given Merlin adequate time to freak out. "First, we're going to have a talk. Second, we're going to have sex. Third, we're going to kill Rowena. Fourth, we will either have more sex or go punch the damn dragon, depending on how late it's gotten and our respective moods. That sound like an appropriate agenda to you?"
Merlin gaped like a fish for a minute, then said, "You--that--I....okay."
"Okay?" Arthur echoed. "Just okay?"
"As long as you explain to me what the fuck happened last night, okay," Merlin said. He even scooted over on the bed, creating a space for Arthur to sit in, which he did. "I mean, you did just offer me sex and all, so it'd be kind of rude..."
"It'd be a lot more than rude," Arthur said, leaning against Merlin's thin pillow and running a hand over the mess of scratchy sheets. There was a moment of precipitous uncertainty, because he knew things in that other twisted world didn't necessarily mean anything for this one; then Merlin hesitantly caught Arthur's hand with his own, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, like he was asking permission, which Arthur gladly gave.
It was a soft, chaste kiss, which on one hand a was bit silly of them, but really, it was just meant as a promise of what was to come. Arthur made himself pull back from it and pull the book up to rest across both their laps. "So, first question," he said, leaning into Merlin's shoulder. "Can you really turn someone into a newt?"
END
Part One
Part Two