Fanfic - This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be (9/11)
Title: This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author’s Note: See part one.
Part Eight
Before Arthur was even able to take a step forward, multiple lightning bolts flew through the air with a crackling intensity, striking every single one of the creatures in the room, and the simultaneous screech of eight wyverns roared through the vicinity, sound both piercing and frightening in equal measure. Arthur's head whipped to the side just in time to catch the fade of Merlin's eyes from a brilliant gold back to blue, hand stretched out towards the creatures. It didn't appear to cause any serious injury to the creatures, but if their stunted movements were any indication, it had at least stunned the wyverns momentarily.
Arthur took advantage of this opportunity, lunging forward and swiping with all his strength at the neck of the first wyvern, blade slicing cleanly through the flesh. Its head fell to the ground with a dull thud, followed a few moments later by the rest of its body. That was one down, with at least seven to go. With little effort, he was able to take out two more of the beasts as he swung his sword at their necks.
But his luck began to fade as he moved towards the fourth beast in the room, most of them having regained their bearings once more. Arthur swung his sword at the wyvern, but it jumped back just in time, preventing the attack from connecting, rearing up on hind legs as it screeched at Arthur. He pulled back, moving into a defensive stance, but the wyvern was surprisingly quick as it swung its own head around, connecting with the right side of Arthur's body, even as he attempted to duck out of the way.
Arthur tumbled a few feet across the room and hit the ground hard, sword flying out of his hand as he rolled further along the floor. Another of the creatures tried to bite him as he rolled past, but Arthur managed to narrowly avoid the attack. He rolled until he reached the wall, jumping to his feet at the same time that he realised three of the wyverns were advancing on him, nearly trapping him against the wall, weaponless and virtually defenceless.
He recognised the danger that now presented itself, and was about to make a mad dash along the wall in the hopes that he'd somehow be able to outrun the wyverns' incredibly powerful attacks along the way, when he heard Merlin's voice ring out from the other side of the room. "Arthur, get down and cover your head!"
He obeyed the command without question, dropping to the floor and curling into a ball with his back to the wall, covering his head protectively while still attempting to catch a glimpse of what was going on. It appeared as if the wyverns were in a prime position to end his life here and now as they advanced a few more feet. But then suddenly a large, glowing orange and red ball of fire was soaring through the air, and it landed on the floor a foot in front of the middle wyvern that was headed towards the prince. Within seconds, it'd moved to engulf all three of the creatures in its flames. Another set of shrill wails pierced the air, the sound so anguished and tortured that Arthur attempted to cover his ears to subdue the noise. He watched through narrowed eyes as the fire seemed to consume the creatures. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air around him, assaulting his nostrils, and sweat pooled on Arthur's forehead, back and chest from the heat of the fire.
Within no more than fifteen seconds, the wyverns had disintegrated into barely more than piles of ash on the floor. It was admittedly one of the most incredible sights Arthur had ever seen -- to literally have the power to roast something from the inside out was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure -- but the battle was still far from over. Arthur glanced up to see Merlin, still standing on the far side of the room, watching with a mixture of fascination and relief. He appeared out of breath, chest heaving just slightly, almost as if he was recovering from some sort of strenuous physical activity, and Arthur felt worry hedge into his consciousness.
As it turned out, there wasn't any time for Arthur to spend worrying about Merlin's breathing habits, as one of the two remaining wyverns had noticed Merlin and was making its way in his direction. The wyvern howled, the head at the end of its long neck swaying threateningly as it charged towards Merlin, down on all fours.
Arthur heard Merlin's scream before he was even able to warn him. The creature slammed its head into Merlin's stomach, sending him flying backwards across the room. He hit the wall with a sickening thud, body crumpling to the ground, and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat as fear washed over him.
The creature was still advancing on Merlin, while the other seemed to be contemplating following along. Merlin lay prone on the floor, body twitching as he struggled to sit upright, but Arthur knew there was no way he'd have enough time to stand up and run away from the wyvern before it attacked. He spotted his sword several feet away and made a mad dive to retrieve the weapon.
"Merlin, stay down," Arthur called out, hand gripping the hilt of his sword with an intense ferocity. Arthur knew he only had one chance at doing this right, or they were both finished.
Taking aim, he flung the sword across the room with all his strength, praying for success as he watched it soar through the air. It struck the beast just below its neck, blade impaling the flesh with incredible accuracy. A thrill of joy shot through Arthur briefly, but he knew it wasn't over just yet. The wyvern screeched with alarming intensity, wings fluttering as it jumped up, as though that would somehow dislodge the sword and prevent its imminent death. The beast continued to flop around, cries ringing throughout the room for several moments, movements slowing as time passed. Merlin had managed to right himself, propping up against the wall, and watched the scene play out before him.
After what felt like minutes, the wyvern finally collapsed, toppling over onto the ground, and even from a distance Arthur knew it was dead.
"Are you all right?" Arthur called out to Merlin, as he began to rush over to his side. He saw Merlin nod grudgingly in his direction, and Arthur assumed that his silence was due to the strain he'd just been subjected to. Still, it was enough.
The remaining wyvern roared, throwing its head back before suddenly ducking down and charging towards Merlin. This time there was nothing to throw at the creature, as his sword was still buried in the wyvern lying a few feet away from Merlin, so Arthur did the only thing he could think of.
"Hey, you bastard! Look over here. I've got what you want right here," he yelled out, jumping up and down and waving his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but couldn't be bothered to care, if it meant pulling its focus away from Merlin.
The beast halted mid-charge, apparently deciding Arthur's attempts at distraction were worthy of its attention, and it turned to glare at him. It was in this moment that it dawned on Arthur that he needed to come up with a plan besides simply diverting the wyvern from its current course, as he still was weaponless.
Arthur glanced around, weighing his options. There was a chair about six feet away that wouldn't likely accomplish more than scratching the wyvern, but it could potentially delay its progress, which might give Arthur time to race to the other side of the room. He could try rushing for his sword, but if Arthur wasn’t able to dislodge the weapon from the body it currently occupied, Arthur would be risking both their lives yet again. No, he needed to divert the wyvern away from Merlin, and consequently his sword, even if that left Arthur more vulnerable.
Not knowing what else to do, Arthur ducked and rolled away from the beast as it bore down on him, just barely averting the attack. Of course, it only bought him a few extra seconds, but Arthur wasn't going to let that deter him now.
The wyvern roared, whirling around at alarming speeds, tail flying and wings flapping. And then it stopped moving entirely, as if rooted to the spot unexpectedly, as a ball of water arrived virtually out of thin air and engulfed its body. The creature's eyes widened in terror as it opened wide jaws only to be flooded with water. Arthur scurried back, keeping both eyes still trained on the drowning beast as it flailed around helplessly. Arthur was absolutely mesmerised by the sight before him, and then, when it looked as if the wyvern was close to death, the water solidified in a single instant, shifting from liquid to ice. The wyvern remained in place, frozen like a statue in the middle of the room.
Arthur blinked, then slowly turned, just in time to witness Merlin lowering his arm. Amazing.
Within two strides, Arthur had made it across the room to Merlin, hands and eyes immediately conducting a full examination of Merlin's injuries.
"Arthur, I'm fine," Merlin said, but he didn't seem to have the energy to fight off Arthur's prodding hands.
"I'll be the judge of that."
*****
Once satisfied that Merlin didn't have any broken bones and was still able to walk, they permitted themselves a few minutes to rest before carrying on. Merlin remained seated on the floor with his head resting against the back wall, eyes shut as he struggled to catch his breath, Arthur crouching beside the wall, forehead and left hand pressed against its cool surface, sword still clutched in his right hand, dangling down by the floor.
“Bloody hell,” Arthur muttered after a couple of minutes. "I had no idea you actually possessed that kind of power." This was the first time he'd witnessed such an incredible magical attack by the man who'd been just a regular person only a month earlier, and Arthur would be damned if the display of power hadn't been just this side of incredible.
"I haven't really had time to master these skills, obviously," he said, as if what he'd just done was nothing more than a child's magic trick, but there wasn't an ounce of arrogance in his tone.
"Obviously," Arthur shot back.
Merlin shot him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t really do much. Just sort of helped you out,” he carried on, and Arthur wondered why now, of all times, Merlin chose to take on the role of humble servant, especially when he should be proud of himself for what he’d just done.
Arthur wasn’t going to allow the opportunity to pass. Merlin deserved more than that. "That's an understatement. You single-handedly killed four wyverns today, Merlin. Four! That's... well, it's something else." The awe returned once more, and he didn't bother trying to hide it any longer. "I've never seen anything like it."
Merlin smirked, looking well pleased with himself all of a sudden. "Thank you. But don't forget that you killed four of them yourself."
"I wouldn't have been able to without your help, I don't think," Arthur admitted, surprised at his own declaration but oddly okay by the fact that he'd just confessed to a weakness of sorts.
Merlin shrugged. "I’ve never used that much elemental magic in one day, so it probably wasn’t as strong as it could’ve been. I just hope I don’t need to do any more. It’s quite exhausting."
“Well, either way, that was pretty damn impressive,” he told Merlin, leaning back on his heels and shooting Merlin a quick smile. “Now if we could just improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, you might just be useful on the battlefield some day.”
Merlin snorted, the sound carrying in the quiet of the empty dining hall. “Why thank you, sire.”
“We should get going,” Arthur said a few seconds later.
Reluctantly they both stood, walking slowly towards the back door with a justified measure of trepidation. Merlin limped slightly beside him, and Arthur tried not to let that fact worry him too much.
"I'll go first," Arthur announced upon reaching their destination, and for once, Merlin didn’t put up a fight about it, which filled Arthur with a whole other sort of anxiety.
Pushing on the door, Arthur stepped back, waiting, shielding Merlin with his body. A few moments passed without any sort of attack, and Arthur took this as a promising sign. Poking his head through the doorway, Arthur took in the area in more thorough detail. It appeared as if the door they’d just exited through led straight to a corridor. To the right there was a dead end -- nothing more than an incredibly high-set window on that wall that they would not be able to climb out of -- which meant that there was only one option as to where they could go next.
Arthur led the way, holding out his sword as he followed the hall. There was nothing on the walls, save for dirt, which left little indication of whether there was anyone -- or ever had been anyone -- living here. The hallway twisted to the right at some point, and just when Arthur thought they must be nearing the end, it would twist once more. A feeling of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach, twisting and turning uncomfortably the longer they walked, and Arthur didn’t like it at all. He turned back several times throughout the walk, tossing a glance over his shoulder just to ensure Merlin was still there, even though he stuck to Arthur like glue, to the point where Arthur could hear Merlin’s ragged breathing. All the same, it helped quell his nerves to know that Merlin was still right there with him.
Finally, after several tedious minutes of walking down the world’s longest corridor, they arrived at a flight of very steep stone stairs that seemed out of place in a building that wasn’t really all that tall to begin with. He gestured with a hand, signalling to Merlin that they were going to head upstairs.
The top landing opened up to another passage, wider than the one they’d just emerged from. Unlit candelabras hung on the walls between sets of doors -- two on either side of the hall -- that seemingly led to rooms. There was another high-set window on the far wall but no other way out.
“Well, this seems promising,” Merlin said.
Arthur frowned, forehead crinkling in annoyance. That was an understatement. The high priestess had to be here somewhere, and Arthur was determined to find her before something else found them.
“You could say that again. I guess we might as well see what’s behind door number one,” said Arthur, reaching for the handle of the door to their immediate right and pushing it open.
He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but unlike last time there were no dangerous creatures lurking about, or any sign of anything, really. The room was empty, save for a large brown chest which sat in the upper left corner of the room, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.
Arthur strolled over to the chest, sheathing his sword for the moment. There was no threat here that he could see. A soft click from behind indicated that Merlin had shut the door behind them, and Arthur wondered if that was the best plan, but didn’t bother commenting on it, seeing as how it was already closed, the damage already done.
“This place is disgusting,” he mused, swiping a single finger across the top of the chest. It emerged black, crushed layers of dust and filth coating the tip of his finger, and Arthur absently wiped the gunk off on his trousers.
Kneeling in front of the chest, Arthur started fiddling with what appeared to be a sophisticated, and entirely too complicated lock, attempting to determine the best way to open the darn thing. Perhaps if he stared at it long enough, with the superior stare of intimidation that usually snapped unruly knights to attention in a heartbeat, it would just open on its own.
“Do you know of any magic spells for opening locks?” Arthur asked, beginning to realise just how useful Merlin could potentially be in similarly frustrating situations.
A beat passed with no comment. “Merlin, have you suddenly gone deaf or something?”
The responding silence was uncharacteristic, and in the next moment it occurred to Arthur that he could no longer hear Merlin’s breathing. Something felt off again, like there was some sort of threat looming in the distance, and Arthur didn’t like the way his stomach coiled tightly. Whirling around, Arthur came face to face with nothing but empty space where Merlin should have been.
"Merlin?" Arthur blinked, scanning the small room for any sign of his lanky manservant, but he was nowhere to be seen.
He headed back towards the door they'd just entered, and gave it a firm tug, but it didn't budge. "Merlin?" Arthur called again, placing both hands on the door handle and giving it a solid yank. He nearly fell back from the force, frustration building steadily. Arthur kicked at the bottom of the door in annoyance, his only reward a brief jolt of pain that shot up his right leg.
Arthur pressed his ear to the solid wood and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Are you out there, Merlin?" he shouted, trying to project the sound as far as possible as he waited for a response. There was nothing.
"Well, isn't this just bloody fantastic?" Arthur grumbled to himself as he stepped back from the door. It appeared as though he was stuck in this room, alone, and he didn't have a clue as to where Merlin was, or if he was all right.
The window looking out the west side of the building was small, but large enough to squeeze through, in theory. Arthur went over to examine the situation. Bars prevented him from sticking a head outside to see if there was any ledge to climb on, but after a quick test, it became apparent that the bars framing the window were only still loosely attached, at best. After several minutes of exertion, coupled with a long string of expletives that probably weren't wholly necessary, Arthur gave one last shove, and the bars practically flew off the window, landing with a loud clatter on the ground below.
He let out a whoop of success, before sobering.
"Aren't you clever," he heard from behind, all of a sudden, causing him to nearly crack open the back of his skull on the top of the window in surprise.
Arthur whipped around at the sound, eyes widening upon seeing Merlin, leaning casually in the doorway. There hadn't even been any sound to indicate that the door opened at all to begin with. All the same, Arthur felt relief wash over him at the sight of Merlin.
"Thank the gods, where have you been? Didn't you hear me calling you?" Arthur asked. Merlin eyed him, but said nothing.
Window completely forgotten for the moment, Arthur strolled back towards Merlin, already formulating a plan.
"Come on, let's go. There's nothing of use in this room," he announced, heading for the door.
But he was prevented from walking through by an arm. Merlin's arm, to be specific. "What are you doing?" he asked, trying to push past him, but Merlin was surprisingly strong as he singlehandedly stopped Arthur from exiting the room.
"Where are you going?" Merlin queried, voice even.
"What do you mean? I told you there's nothing here. Stop messing around, Merlin. We have to find the high priestess."
Arthur made another attempt to shove past Merlin, annoyance rising at his ridiculous antics. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he was willing to admit during the wyvern attack. But this time Merlin placed a hand on his chest, touch icy and painful, and Arthur tried to jump back away from the sensation, confusing burning in his eyes, but he found he couldn't move.
In the next instant, Arthur felt himself being shoved back by an invisible force, pulling him until he hit the far wall. Shoving away from the wall, he quickly found that something was holding him in place -- nothing tangible, but a strong magical force that felt similar to chains, if he were able to see them. Merlin stepped fully into the room as the door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud. Everything about the situation felt off, like it was all wrong and he'd stepped into some alternate universe; except he was quite certain that he hadn't.
"You need to stay here," Merlin said, voice cold and commanding as he strolled casually towards Arthur, still held in place by the invisible chains.
"What the hell are you doing? We don't have time for games." Arthur felt himself getting more annoyed with every passing second.
Merlin fell silent once more, staring hard at Arthur with no real purpose or intent that he could see. "You think this is a game?” he asked. “Maybe you're the one who's mentally deficient."
In spite of the little evidence he had to go on, he decided that this was definitely not Merlin, as much as it may have looked and sounded like him. "I'm not sure who you are, but I know you're not really Merlin. What the hell have you done with him?"
The man chuckled mirthlessly, the sound chilling to Arthur’s ears. "I'm the real Merlin. There's no mistake about that."
Arthur glared. "No, you're not. I know Merlin, and you're not him."
"Oh, but I am," the man pretending to be Merlin drawled, voice seeping with sadistic pleasure as he took another step forward. "Do you need me to prove it? Fine, I will."
Without waiting for a comment, he began speaking again. "As a child you had two bloodhounds that you loved dearly. You cried for three days when one was accidentally killed in a hunting accident."
Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. "That's not exactly uncommon knowledge." It wasn't as if the entire kingdom was aware of the incident, but enough people had been involved in the whole situation -- Arthur's nursemaid at the time had even held a funeral for his lost companion -- that it wouldn't be hard to track down the story, if one so desired to know.
Merlin proceeded to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Fine. That clearly wasn’t satisfactory for you. Let's move onto something else then. You have a long, narrow scar on your lower back from getting into a fight as a teenager with the son of a visiting noble."
Once again, that little piece of evidence wasn’t overly convincing to Arthur, who was already certain that this wasn’t the Merlin he knew.
"That, too, isn't some deep, dark secret. Many people are aware of stories surrounding scars I have. I'm a prince, after all." Well, mostly only Arthur's father and a handful of nursemaids and servants were aware of the fact that he had a scar; even less knew why, but it could just have easily been a lucky guess. It did nothing to sway Arthur’s opinion whatsoever.
"Even the one on your inner left thigh, about four inches above your knee?"
Arthur blinked, knowing exactly what scar he was referring to. It was a ridiculous incident, involving a blade, poor insight on Arthur's part, and Merlin's general incompetence; basically, a lesson on throwing daggers gone awry. Arthur'd figured that it might be easier to start Merlin off with some basic training with a smaller weapon instead of a broadsword, but clearly that'd been a poor decision. Arthur had raged, Merlin had freaked right out, there was a lot more blood than either had expected, and after a great deal of apologising and reassurances, everything had been fine. Needless to say, no one knew about that incident save for Merlin, Arthur and Gaius, whose assistance they'd required with helping to properly bandage the wound.
"I take it your silence is causing you to have second thoughts?" Merlin crowed at him, smirking devilishly.
Arthur shook his head, keeping his expression neutral. It was entirely possible Gaius had told someone about the incident. "Not at all. I know Merlin, and you're not him, so why don't you just tell me what you want?"
The smirk grew tenfold. Merlin folded his arms, looking amused. "I want you," he said, stare heavy and intense, but voice twisted... malicious, almost. "I thought that was obvious the other day when I clung to you, after we both came in the forest. You begged me to never leave you, don't you remember?"
Arthur felt himself pale, stomach churning just a little. This time it was painfully obvious that no one else knew about that particular moment between them, and in spite of still being fairly convinced that the man standing before him was an imposter or some magical incarnation of Merlin, he couldn’t quite quash the tiny bit of doubt that wormed its way into his head anyway.
Merlin watched him expectantly, but Arthur refused to allow anything to show in his face. “Did you think I didn’t know what was going on back in the dungeons, when you asked me to read that piece of paper? Did you honestly think I was so stupid that I didn’t know what you were doing?”
Arthur kept quiet, pushing against the forces holding him in place, but they were still working exactly how they were supposed to, and he was barely able to do more than move an inch or two away from the wall at his back.
Merlin carried on, apparently taking the silence as an indication to keep speaking. “Have you ever wondered why I didn’t ever tell you about my magic? Why I’ve helped you all this time? Did you think it was because I was trying to protect you?” He laughed, the sound cold and humourless. “I knew I had to make sure you were alive to ascend to the throne, and bonding our souls was so brilliant I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.”
A true scowl cropped up on Arthur’s face, brows furrowing. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” Merlin walked up to Arthur, placing a cold hand against his chest. Arthur tried to pull away from the touch, but he had nowhere to retreat to. “I spent all this time using my magic to keep you alive. I managed to earn your friendship and your trust and I protected you so that if you ever found out about my abilities, you would realise that all I’d ever done was try and help you. I knew you would forgive me and trust me again, because you have a weakness for me.”
Arthur swallowed heavily, fighting down the urge to recoil as Merlin dragged a single finger down his chest and stomach, stopping at the waistband of his trousers. He was also pointedly ignoring the fact that this version of Merlin was correct about one thing -- he was beginning to realise that it was quite clear that Arthur did have a weakness for Merlin, and perhaps that would one day become his downfall, if he wasn’t careful. Their current predicament notwithstanding.
“And now that I’ve won not only your friendship and trust, but your heart as well, you are completely helpless against me, Arthur Pendragon.”
Merlin’s hand moved up to his chest once more, and then, he started pushing, digging into the flesh around his rib cage. Arthur gasped as the cold mixed with a sudden, searing pain, and he watched with a sense of abject horror as Merlin began to push his fingers into Arthur’s chest. He felt the tear of skin, the crushing of bones, breath stilting in his throat as he tried to gasp, but couldn’t seem to find the ability to do so over the white hot burn in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, hair matting to the damp surface. It was some of the most excruciating pain he’d ever been subjected to before in his life, agony intensifying only with the knowledge that it was Merlin -- or someone masquerading as Merlin -- causing him to suffer like this.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” Merlin taunted, pressing his hand further into Arthur’s chest until he felt like he was going to explode from the pain and the pressure.
But he shook his head, closing his eyes briefly against another wave of nausea. “No.”
“Why not?” Merlin growled into his ear. “Are you too afraid? What’s the worst that could happen? You don’t think I’m really Merlin anyway, so if you attack me it’s not as if you’re hurting your real lover, is it?”
The voice continued to taunt him, though he could barely hear through the searing pain. He wouldn’t hurt Merlin, didn’t think it was even possible for him to do so -- not under any circumstances -- even if Merlin shattered his heart entirely, plucking it piece by piece from his chest.
“Unless you finally believe me and know that I’m exactly who I say I am and can’t bring yourself to hurt me anyway, even though I betrayed you. Again. I always knew you were weak, Arthur, but this is pathetic, even for you,” Merlin practically spat, twisting his fingers inside Arthur’s chest, causing him to lurch violently from the agony for a moment before it subsided enough for him to be able to breathe again. “Come on, I’ll even give you a fair chance here,” he said.
Merlin wrenched his hand out of Arthur’s body, stained crimson with his blood, and the pain was almost as paralysing as when he’d first pushed fingers through Arthur’s chest. The few threads of logic that still weaved through Arthur’s mind told him that he shouldn’t even be alive, that these injuries should have been fatal. No one could sustain an open wound to the chest like this and still be able to breath... to move. How Arthur was even conscious at all was a mystery, and he was certain there had to be an explanation somewhere. However, he couldn’t reason past the pain, and then, without warning, the magical chains suddenly disappeared.
“Get up,” Merlin commanded. “You’re not dead yet. You have a chance to even the score here.”
Using the last reserves of strength he had left, reserves that should’ve been non-existent by all logic, Arthur pushed himself up into a seated position, only faintly aware of the blood soaking his tunic and the ground. “I am not fighting you,” he managed to grind out, before his world started spinning again.
“Not even if I gave you the means to get rid of me for good?”
And suddenly a small dagger appeared on the ground at Arthur’s feet. Merlin walked up to him, kneeling down between his legs, and he picked up the dagger, placing it into Arthur’s right hand, curling fingers around Arthur’s until he had a strong enough grasp not to drop it.
“You’re a coward,” Merlin taunted, wicked smirk plastered on his face so much so that it barely even resembled the man Arthur knew.
Arthur glanced down at the dagger in his hand.
“Your father was right -- you are weak. You would be an embarrassment to Camelot as a king.”
Arthur’s hand tightened momentarily around the hilt.
“Your mother is dead because of you, and your father hates you for it; he always will. Every time he looks at you he wishes he had your mother instead.”
Fingers twitched, and somewhere between the haze of the pain and anger, the idea that he could do this and end the misery slipped into Arthur’s mind.
Merlin continued his string of mockery. “I hope you understand how much I despise you, in case there was any doubt. I’ve never met a more self-centered, arrogant, weak, cowardly person in my life. Even in Ealdor I could find men with more honour than you have in your little finger.”
Arthur peered up at Merlin’s snarling face, suddenly filled with the desire to use the dagger like he’d been suggesting, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to hurt Merlin, regardless of the situation.
“Do it,” Merlin practically screamed at him, throwing arms out to the side in a sacrificial pose. “I know you want to; you’re dying to kill me.”
Arthur coughed, a thin trail of blood dripping from the corner of his lip. Even though it was what Merlin wanted, he still couldn’t do it. Perhaps it was true, that he was a coward who was completely helpless for Melrin. This was a terrible way to go, but Arthur didn’t see any other options. So he let his hand loosen, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clank.
“I won’t,” he finally managed to spit out just before his world faded to black.
Arthur awoke to the feeling of someone prodding and poking him, a frantic voice chattering at him, even though he couldn’t make out the words.
He rolled onto his back, mostly involuntarily, and when his vision finally cleared, he was able to make out the face of Merlin, staring down at him in worry.
Without even really processing what he was doing, Arthur jumped up, and scrambled back towards the wall, putting distance between himself and Merlin, not knowing if this was the real one, or the one who’d just tried to kill him.
“Arthur...?” Merlin asked, eyes concerned and expression unable to hide the hurt.
“Stay away,” Arthur said, holding out a hand as he struggled to clear his head and make sense of what was going on.
“Arthur, it’s me. Don’t worry,” Merlin said, trying to reassure Arthur as he took a single step forward.
“How do I know that?” Arthur demanded, coming across far more harshly than he’d intended.
Something in Merlin’s eyes flickered briefly, like sadness, but Arthur staunchly chose to ignore it. “Because I just had the same thing happen to me as you did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I was just attacked by you. Or, er, someone who looked like you. But I knew it wasn’t. You, I mean.” He took another cautious step forward, and Arthur felt his heart skip involuntarily, even as his brain registered that this was a possible scenario.
“You don’t look like you were attacked,” he said, gesturing towards Merlin, who appeared to be in perfect physical condition. Or as perfect as he was prior to their separation, anyway.
“This was how I looked when I woke up, but trust me when I say it was not good.”
“How would your injuries just suddenly heal like that?”
Merlin shrugged, glancing down at his feet before casting eyes upon Arthur once again. “I don’t know. In the same way that yours did?”
Arthur frowned, confused all of a sudden. “What are you talking about? Can’t you see all the blo--” He trailed off mid-sentence as he looked down at himself, and was struck with the fact that he appeared just as healthy as Merlin did. No blood, no gaping wound, no nothing.
“What the hell happened?” he wondered, talking as much to himself as he was to Merlin.
Merlin took the last couple of steps to reach Arthur, and he knelt down on the floor in front of Arthur. “I’m not entirely sure, but I heard you tell me to check out the room across the hall, so I did. And then when I was about to leave, you came in and attacked me.” He bit his lip. “Well, not you, but someone like you.”
Arthur nodded, a pained expression briefly appearing on Merlin’s face before he hurried to hide it, though not before Arthur noticed. He suspected that Merlin’s false Arthur had probably said some very hurtful things to him.
“The injuries should have killed me, I think. But obviously they didn’t, since we’re both still here. Maybe they were all a dream or a vision or something? Definitely magical, at the very least,” Merlin continued on.
Arthur blinked. “If it was a dream, it was the most realistic I’ve ever had.” He drifted back into memories, unable to entirely erase them.
“I would never hurt you. I’d never, ever hurt you Arthur,” Merlin said, drawing Arthur out of his own mind as Merlin leaned in to press a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. “I promise it’s the real me.” And then he moved forward again, planting a soft kiss on Arthur’s mouth, lips warm and gentle and loving.
When they pulled apart, Arthur captured Merlin’s face in both hands, studying his eyes, looking for any evidence that he was being taken advantage of. But there was none of the hatred and cruelty that’d been present in the fake Merlin’s eyes; there was nothing but concern and affection and unwavering trust in these beautiful eyes, and he knew for good that this was Merlin, his Merlin.
“I know,” he breathed, pulling him close, arms wrapping around Merlin for just a moment. “I’m sorry. I just needed to be sure.”
“It’s all right,” Merlin said. “I know you did. Do you think you can get up?”
Arthur thought about it for a second, didn’t feel any of his earlier pain, and nodded, accepting Merlin’s extended hand as he helped pull him up off the floor.
“We stick together from now on,” Arthur said, and reached out to take Merlin’s right hand in his left. “Don’t let go under any circumstances,” he instructed, threading their fingers together.
“I won’t,” Merlin promised, and they made their way out of the room to see what else they had to face.
It was not all that surprising when Arthur and Merlin exited the room, only to find that the staircase they’d originally ascended had completely vanished. In its place was a blank wall, dirty and worn, as if it’d always been there. However, at the other end of the hall there was now a new stone pathway that extended upwards.
“I guess this leads us to our next disaster,” Arthur said, pointing to the newly revealed staircase. “Wherever that might be. You ready?”
Merlin nodded, appearing far more certain than Arthur felt, and he withdrew the sword once again, just in case, leading the way.
At the top of the stairs, there was a small landing and a single wooden door.
“What do you think is behind the door?” Merlin asked.
Arthur shrugged, tossing an encouraging look in Merlin’s direction, despite the fact that he felt anything but encouraged at the moment. “I have no idea, but I’m praying that it isn’t any crazed magical creatures or another set of doubles. Or anything else dangerous, for that matter.”
Merlin’s expression was nothing short of dubious. “And, um, what do you think the likelihood of there being nothing whatsoever is?”
“Probably slim to none.”
A sigh. “I thought so.”
“Cheer up, Merlin. We’ve made it this far already. It can’t get much worse than that, right?” He smiled in spite of himself, already regretting the statement he’d just made, and dreading what they were going to find on the other side of this door. He sobered quickly, and using his sword, Arthur carefully gestured towards Merlin’s free hand. “You’re going to need to open the door for us, though,” he added. “I’m not letting go of your hand or my sword.”
Merlin reached out and grabbed onto the latch, opening the door slightly before stepping back. Using his foot, Arthur lightly kicked the door open. They waited with bated breath, hoping against hope that nothing would spring out and attack them, and thankfully, nothing did.
After a few moments, Arthur made his way cautiously into the room, Merlin at his heels.
“Congratulations,” a female voice announced, though Arthur couldn’t see anyone. His left hand continued to grip Merlin’s firmly, right hand still holding out his sword as Arthur’s gaze quickly swept the room.
“You have passed the trials,” the voice continued. It seemed to be originating from the furthest wall from where they stood. Instinctively, Arthur pulled Merlin behind him, even though it was painfully obvious that he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
“Show yourself,” Arthur said, swinging the sword slowly back and forth through the air in front of them.
“I mean you no harm,” the woman said, and suddenly he could see her, standing behind a large oak table at the back of the room, though he had no idea how she’d managed to get there without Arthur noticing in the first place. “You should be proud of yourselves.”
“We’ve what?” Arthur asked, only now actually beginning to process the meaning of her words.
She smiled at them, warm, sincere. “You’ve passed the trials. Please, come closer.” She gestured with her hands for them to move towards where she stood.
Arthur shot Merlin a questioning look, but he simply shrugged in response. It appeared as though they were no longer in danger, though Arthur couldn’t help but remain somewhat distrustful regardless. However, the reality was that they had nowhere else to go anyway, no way out that they’d seen. Besides, they were here to meet with the high priestess in the first place. So he gave Merlin’s hand a tug, deciding for them both, leading him hesitantly forward as they approached the woman standing several feet away with no small amount of trepidation. But something in the air felt less perilous, and Arthur allowed his sword to lower to the ground, though he refused to sheath it, as a precautionary measure.
She was fairly tall, with dark eyes, olive skin and a solid frame. Long, silver curls framed her face, which appeared to be both youthful and aged at the same time. She wore a long, sleeveless sky blue dress that appeared to shine, even in the absence of natural lighting. Her expression was warm and welcoming, but Arthur sensed a great power emanating from her person, and knew instinctively that she could just as easily turn against them if enraged. It wasn’t hard, from that point, to make the leap that this was the high priestess they’d been seeking.
Suddenly her words clicked in Arthur’s mind. “What do you mean, we’ve passed the trials?” he asked. Beside him, Merlin shifted, moving to stand in line with Arthur. “We haven’t done anything.”
She smiled at them, a cryptic gleam in her eyes. “Haven’t you, though?”
Arthur frowned, having absolutely no clue what she was talking about. Apparently Merlin felt the same way. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“What do you think you just did?”
Multiple thoughts immediately sprang to mind -- attacked a slew of wyverns, barely escaping with their lives; wandered through the veritable mazes of this tower; and battled false versions of one another -- but somehow he didn’t quite think that she would appreciate any of those answers.
Without waiting for a response, she started walking around the table, heading in their direction. “Tell me, what is your business here?” she asked, completely side stepping her previous question.
Arthur caught Merlin’s eye, raising a brow in silent query. You can tell her, he replied through their mental connection, and Arthur nodded. But he wasn’t oblivious to the slight hint of sadness Merlin hadn’t quite been able to mask.
“We are seeking the high priestess to undo a soul bond,” he said, ignoring the way his stomach churned at the words. He found, quite cowardly, that he couldn’t look at Merlin.
The woman stopped approximately six feet away, folding her hands, studying them both for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “I am the high priestess you seek.” Arthur didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed, but she carried on before he had a chance to respond. “You say that you’re here to break a soul bond, but I see that your particular bond is quite unique.”
“Unique? What do you mean?” Merlin asked, shooting Arthur a curious glance before returning his attention to the high priestess.
“The trials,” she said, holding out one palm as if that explained anything.
The confusion must have been plastered plainly across their faces, as she heaved a disappointed sigh and shook her head, lowering the raised hand back to her side. “The trials you just completed assess three main components: strength of power, strength of character, and strength of bond. The creatures that attacked you when you first arrived are called wyverns. They are not something that can be defeated alone. This was the test of the strength of your power. Your strength of character and bond were tested when you were separated and confronted with your worst nightmares of one another. Even though they were merely manifestations, if either of you had risen to the bait, you would have failed. Your bond was also tested during the wyvern fight. You were required to work together and efficiently, something that would not have been possible without a strong bond to carry you through.”
She paused, eyeing Merlin, then Arthur, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. “While you both possess vastly different styles of combat, the strength of your individual powers is significant, and when combined, truly staggering. This can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how you use your powers. Which is why the strength of your character is significant.”
The woman tilted her head, focusing her attention on Merlin, and she nodded in his direction. “You are impulsive and often act before you’ve entirely thought through the consequences. But you are fiercely loyal and dedicated to those who are important to you. Your heart is pure, and filled with love and compassion. You do not always make the wisest decisions, but most everything you do comes from the right place. You would willingly sacrifice yourself for family or a close friend without hesitation, even risking your life for a stranger, if you felt strongly enough about the situation.”
Arthur glanced over at Merlin, curious to see his reaction to her words. Merlin gazed over at her curiously, a light flush tinting his cheeks pink. He seemed both flattered and embarrassed at the same time, and the sight of it stirred something warm in Arthur’s gut.
She turned her attention to Arthur next, and captured his gaze. It felt as though she was peering right into his soul, eyes searching and intense, and he simultaneously wanted to break the contact while wishing it would never end. “You are guarded, often keeping your true self from others, as a great deal of responsibility lies on your shoulders. Sometimes you make the wrong decisions, but your heart is ruled by fairness and compassion. You will not stand around and allow injustices to occur, and are willing to fight for what you believe in. There are many who pledge their allegiance to you, but there are those to whom your loyalty is pure and unwavering. You, too, possess a character of great strength.”
She smiled at him, lips quirking softly, and gave them both an expectant look, as if she was expecting something from them in return.
“Thank you,” Arthur told her sincerely. But that still didn’t explain anything about their soul bond, or how it somehow made it unique. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still not quite certain what this has to do with our bond.”
She laughed, light and airy, as if the thought was utterly amusing. “Have a seat,” she told them, sweeping a hand out in front of her.
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. There were no chairs in the room at all. But then he felt a tug on his arm and turned around to see two chairs a few feet back. It was as if they’d sprung up like magic, which was actually probably exactly what had happened. He shot Merlin a dubious look but sat down anyway, extricating his hand from Merlin’s, having completely forgotten he was still holding it at all. He missed the contact immediately.
The high priestess snapped her fingers and another chair materialized before their eyes, sat a few feet in front of the table to the rear, elevated above theirs. She perched on the edge of the chair, staring down at them, and Arthur could feel the power radiating from her once more.
“I sense you have many questions for me. But first, let me tell you a few things about soul bonds. A successful soul bond is a rarity, like a highly valued gem. Most attempts at bonding two souls usually fail, not because of the complexity of the spell, but because of the connection -- or lack of connection, as if often the case -- between the two individuals attempting the bond.”
Merlin’s fingers brushed against the back of Arthur’s hand as it rested against the armrest of the chair, and he turned to glance at Merlin, who stared back at him. That explains a lot, don’t you think? he asked silently, and Arthur nodded in response.
She gave them a knowing look before carrying on, and it caused a blush to rise up Arthur’s face, preposterous as he knew the reaction was. “A soul bond can only be successfully formed between two people who already have a very close connection, often occurring between family members, close friends, or lovers.” The blush spread all the way to the tips of Arthur’s ears, but he steadfastly ignored it, keeping curious eyes locked on the high priestess.
"Most successful bonds are able to elicit certain special abilities, unique to the soul bond, as a consequence of the magic that was used to create them. Some of the most common abilities include being able to communicate using only the power of your mind, sensing each other's feelings and emotions, even at a great distance, and having the power to affect each other’s emotions," she said. "Then, of course, there are the other elements of the soul bond, which can be troublesome. Separation of a great physical distance can cause weakness, mental anguish, and sickness that can sometimes lead to a physical shutting down of the body until the bond is re-established. In rare cases, if the distance separated is too great for an extended period of time, the consequence can be death. But this is only the case in new, or untrained soul bonds."
Something lit at the back of Arthur's mind, like a mental torch being set aflame. "Wait, what do you mean 'untrained soul bonds'? Are you saying that we're able to control aspects of the bond?" he asked, leaning forward, curious.
The high priestess nodded at him, folding her hands in her lap elegantly. "Yes, to an extent. When new bonds are formed, even strong ones, the bonded still need time to grow into and adjust to them. Their newfound connection needs to be fostered and practiced in order to see it fully blossom. For example, newly bonded individuals cannot be separated by long distances for great periods of time, or they are both affected physically and mentally.”
Arthur shot Merlin a knowing look before returning his attention to the high priestess.
“However, if they start off slowly, separating for short periods of time and short distances, over time they can increase the distance and length of time spent apart without any negative impact.”
This was intriguing information, and Arthur suddenly wanted to know more, entirely ignoring the fact that this wouldn’t be relevant to them soon anyway. “So are there other things we could do, in theory, to train our bond?” he asked.
The high priestess shot him a curious look, eyeing him suspiciously, but she carried on. “Of course. A bond can be trained in any number of ways, if the right attention is paid to it. The more the bonded utilise their mental connection, for example, the less physical strain it will cause them, until eventually it is no longer difficult at all.”
Arthur nodded, absorbing the information, all the while pondering deeply what other sorts of ways there were for them to train and develop this bond. Maybe... Perhaps it was possible that they didn’t have to... But no, Arthur knew it was foolish to allow his mind to even travel down that path seriously and mentally scolded himself for the same.
Still, he couldn’t quite stop himself from asking the question anyway. “I know that the bond can cause death, right? But in theory, could it also not prevent it in the same way?”
Brows arched high on the priestess’ forehead, and Arthur could feel Merlin’s gaze piercing the side of his face. Her eyes developed a mischievous glint and she folded her hands in her lap. “Now, that is an interesting question, Arthur Pendragon. To my knowledge it has never been successfully done before. But that doesn’t mean that it’s impossible, especially with a bond as strong as yours.”
Silence descended on the room with the significance of those words suddenly weighing heavily on Arthur’s heart. Numerous thoughts immediately popped into his head, demanding attention and filling him with an unidentified feeling of hope all of a sudden, but Arthur didn't know where to begin exactly. There was a part of him that wanted to pursue this line of questioning further and another part that felt like he knew enough already. In the end, Merlin made the decision unwittingly for him.
"So what makes our particular bond so special?" Merlin piped in, breaking the silence, effectively moving the conversation in a different direction.
She smiled at them with a twinkle in her eye, as if she'd been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to answer this particular question.
"Because when you were bonded," she pointed at each of them in turn, "you had a connection as intense as that of lovers."
Arthur opened his mouth to protest that they weren't lovers at the time -- not because he was embarrassed, but because he felt obligated to defend both of their honour -- however, she held up a hand, and Arthur bit his tongue to allow her to speak instead. "I know that you were not then," she said, as if reading his mind, "but you are now. The closest and most effective bonds are between lovers, followed closely by immediate relatives, and then friends. The significant factor about a bond between lovers is that there is a physical as well as a mental and emotional connection between them, which does not exist with the other two types of bonds.”
He wasn't surprised to hear that, and in fact believed it made perfect sense that lovers would have the strongest bond. But there was something else Arthur desperately had to know. It wasn't that he believed it was true, but at the same time, he needed to hear the truth, so that he wouldn't ever doubt in the future. "You said earlier that one of the resulting aspects of the bond is the ability to feel each other's emotions and feelings. But the bond... it can't create thoughts, or emotions, or other things along those lines, correct? For example, it won't make you suddenly change your feelings or opinions about a person?"
Arthur tried not to look up at Merlin, hoped that he wouldn't take offense to the question. He cared deeply for Merlin -- had for a long time, if he were being completely honest with himself -- of that he was absolutely certain now. But if there was even the smallest chance that any of the feelings he currently harboured for the man had been a result of the bond, it was important that he knew.
A soft laugh escaped past her lips, bubbling out of her with sheer amusement, and Arthur’s brows shot immediately up his forehead at her response. Shaking her head, she smiled down at him. “No,” she responded simply. “A soul bond never creates something from nothing. It merely brings to the surface what is already there in your heart. In some ways it is like a gift to those who may deny or are not as in touch with their feelings.”
Arthur felt himself blush again, feeling as if she was speaking directly to him with that last statement, and perhaps she was.
---------------------------------------
Continue on to part ten.
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author’s Note: See part one.
Part Eight
Before Arthur was even able to take a step forward, multiple lightning bolts flew through the air with a crackling intensity, striking every single one of the creatures in the room, and the simultaneous screech of eight wyverns roared through the vicinity, sound both piercing and frightening in equal measure. Arthur's head whipped to the side just in time to catch the fade of Merlin's eyes from a brilliant gold back to blue, hand stretched out towards the creatures. It didn't appear to cause any serious injury to the creatures, but if their stunted movements were any indication, it had at least stunned the wyverns momentarily.
Arthur took advantage of this opportunity, lunging forward and swiping with all his strength at the neck of the first wyvern, blade slicing cleanly through the flesh. Its head fell to the ground with a dull thud, followed a few moments later by the rest of its body. That was one down, with at least seven to go. With little effort, he was able to take out two more of the beasts as he swung his sword at their necks.
But his luck began to fade as he moved towards the fourth beast in the room, most of them having regained their bearings once more. Arthur swung his sword at the wyvern, but it jumped back just in time, preventing the attack from connecting, rearing up on hind legs as it screeched at Arthur. He pulled back, moving into a defensive stance, but the wyvern was surprisingly quick as it swung its own head around, connecting with the right side of Arthur's body, even as he attempted to duck out of the way.
Arthur tumbled a few feet across the room and hit the ground hard, sword flying out of his hand as he rolled further along the floor. Another of the creatures tried to bite him as he rolled past, but Arthur managed to narrowly avoid the attack. He rolled until he reached the wall, jumping to his feet at the same time that he realised three of the wyverns were advancing on him, nearly trapping him against the wall, weaponless and virtually defenceless.
He recognised the danger that now presented itself, and was about to make a mad dash along the wall in the hopes that he'd somehow be able to outrun the wyverns' incredibly powerful attacks along the way, when he heard Merlin's voice ring out from the other side of the room. "Arthur, get down and cover your head!"
He obeyed the command without question, dropping to the floor and curling into a ball with his back to the wall, covering his head protectively while still attempting to catch a glimpse of what was going on. It appeared as if the wyverns were in a prime position to end his life here and now as they advanced a few more feet. But then suddenly a large, glowing orange and red ball of fire was soaring through the air, and it landed on the floor a foot in front of the middle wyvern that was headed towards the prince. Within seconds, it'd moved to engulf all three of the creatures in its flames. Another set of shrill wails pierced the air, the sound so anguished and tortured that Arthur attempted to cover his ears to subdue the noise. He watched through narrowed eyes as the fire seemed to consume the creatures. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air around him, assaulting his nostrils, and sweat pooled on Arthur's forehead, back and chest from the heat of the fire.
Within no more than fifteen seconds, the wyverns had disintegrated into barely more than piles of ash on the floor. It was admittedly one of the most incredible sights Arthur had ever seen -- to literally have the power to roast something from the inside out was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure -- but the battle was still far from over. Arthur glanced up to see Merlin, still standing on the far side of the room, watching with a mixture of fascination and relief. He appeared out of breath, chest heaving just slightly, almost as if he was recovering from some sort of strenuous physical activity, and Arthur felt worry hedge into his consciousness.
As it turned out, there wasn't any time for Arthur to spend worrying about Merlin's breathing habits, as one of the two remaining wyverns had noticed Merlin and was making its way in his direction. The wyvern howled, the head at the end of its long neck swaying threateningly as it charged towards Merlin, down on all fours.
Arthur heard Merlin's scream before he was even able to warn him. The creature slammed its head into Merlin's stomach, sending him flying backwards across the room. He hit the wall with a sickening thud, body crumpling to the ground, and Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat as fear washed over him.
The creature was still advancing on Merlin, while the other seemed to be contemplating following along. Merlin lay prone on the floor, body twitching as he struggled to sit upright, but Arthur knew there was no way he'd have enough time to stand up and run away from the wyvern before it attacked. He spotted his sword several feet away and made a mad dive to retrieve the weapon.
"Merlin, stay down," Arthur called out, hand gripping the hilt of his sword with an intense ferocity. Arthur knew he only had one chance at doing this right, or they were both finished.
Taking aim, he flung the sword across the room with all his strength, praying for success as he watched it soar through the air. It struck the beast just below its neck, blade impaling the flesh with incredible accuracy. A thrill of joy shot through Arthur briefly, but he knew it wasn't over just yet. The wyvern screeched with alarming intensity, wings fluttering as it jumped up, as though that would somehow dislodge the sword and prevent its imminent death. The beast continued to flop around, cries ringing throughout the room for several moments, movements slowing as time passed. Merlin had managed to right himself, propping up against the wall, and watched the scene play out before him.
After what felt like minutes, the wyvern finally collapsed, toppling over onto the ground, and even from a distance Arthur knew it was dead.
"Are you all right?" Arthur called out to Merlin, as he began to rush over to his side. He saw Merlin nod grudgingly in his direction, and Arthur assumed that his silence was due to the strain he'd just been subjected to. Still, it was enough.
The remaining wyvern roared, throwing its head back before suddenly ducking down and charging towards Merlin. This time there was nothing to throw at the creature, as his sword was still buried in the wyvern lying a few feet away from Merlin, so Arthur did the only thing he could think of.
"Hey, you bastard! Look over here. I've got what you want right here," he yelled out, jumping up and down and waving his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but couldn't be bothered to care, if it meant pulling its focus away from Merlin.
The beast halted mid-charge, apparently deciding Arthur's attempts at distraction were worthy of its attention, and it turned to glare at him. It was in this moment that it dawned on Arthur that he needed to come up with a plan besides simply diverting the wyvern from its current course, as he still was weaponless.
Arthur glanced around, weighing his options. There was a chair about six feet away that wouldn't likely accomplish more than scratching the wyvern, but it could potentially delay its progress, which might give Arthur time to race to the other side of the room. He could try rushing for his sword, but if Arthur wasn’t able to dislodge the weapon from the body it currently occupied, Arthur would be risking both their lives yet again. No, he needed to divert the wyvern away from Merlin, and consequently his sword, even if that left Arthur more vulnerable.
Not knowing what else to do, Arthur ducked and rolled away from the beast as it bore down on him, just barely averting the attack. Of course, it only bought him a few extra seconds, but Arthur wasn't going to let that deter him now.
The wyvern roared, whirling around at alarming speeds, tail flying and wings flapping. And then it stopped moving entirely, as if rooted to the spot unexpectedly, as a ball of water arrived virtually out of thin air and engulfed its body. The creature's eyes widened in terror as it opened wide jaws only to be flooded with water. Arthur scurried back, keeping both eyes still trained on the drowning beast as it flailed around helplessly. Arthur was absolutely mesmerised by the sight before him, and then, when it looked as if the wyvern was close to death, the water solidified in a single instant, shifting from liquid to ice. The wyvern remained in place, frozen like a statue in the middle of the room.
Arthur blinked, then slowly turned, just in time to witness Merlin lowering his arm. Amazing.
Within two strides, Arthur had made it across the room to Merlin, hands and eyes immediately conducting a full examination of Merlin's injuries.
"Arthur, I'm fine," Merlin said, but he didn't seem to have the energy to fight off Arthur's prodding hands.
"I'll be the judge of that."
*****
Once satisfied that Merlin didn't have any broken bones and was still able to walk, they permitted themselves a few minutes to rest before carrying on. Merlin remained seated on the floor with his head resting against the back wall, eyes shut as he struggled to catch his breath, Arthur crouching beside the wall, forehead and left hand pressed against its cool surface, sword still clutched in his right hand, dangling down by the floor.
“Bloody hell,” Arthur muttered after a couple of minutes. "I had no idea you actually possessed that kind of power." This was the first time he'd witnessed such an incredible magical attack by the man who'd been just a regular person only a month earlier, and Arthur would be damned if the display of power hadn't been just this side of incredible.
"I haven't really had time to master these skills, obviously," he said, as if what he'd just done was nothing more than a child's magic trick, but there wasn't an ounce of arrogance in his tone.
"Obviously," Arthur shot back.
Merlin shot him a sidelong glance. “I didn’t really do much. Just sort of helped you out,” he carried on, and Arthur wondered why now, of all times, Merlin chose to take on the role of humble servant, especially when he should be proud of himself for what he’d just done.
Arthur wasn’t going to allow the opportunity to pass. Merlin deserved more than that. "That's an understatement. You single-handedly killed four wyverns today, Merlin. Four! That's... well, it's something else." The awe returned once more, and he didn't bother trying to hide it any longer. "I've never seen anything like it."
Merlin smirked, looking well pleased with himself all of a sudden. "Thank you. But don't forget that you killed four of them yourself."
"I wouldn't have been able to without your help, I don't think," Arthur admitted, surprised at his own declaration but oddly okay by the fact that he'd just confessed to a weakness of sorts.
Merlin shrugged. "I’ve never used that much elemental magic in one day, so it probably wasn’t as strong as it could’ve been. I just hope I don’t need to do any more. It’s quite exhausting."
“Well, either way, that was pretty damn impressive,” he told Merlin, leaning back on his heels and shooting Merlin a quick smile. “Now if we could just improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, you might just be useful on the battlefield some day.”
Merlin snorted, the sound carrying in the quiet of the empty dining hall. “Why thank you, sire.”
“We should get going,” Arthur said a few seconds later.
Reluctantly they both stood, walking slowly towards the back door with a justified measure of trepidation. Merlin limped slightly beside him, and Arthur tried not to let that fact worry him too much.
"I'll go first," Arthur announced upon reaching their destination, and for once, Merlin didn’t put up a fight about it, which filled Arthur with a whole other sort of anxiety.
Pushing on the door, Arthur stepped back, waiting, shielding Merlin with his body. A few moments passed without any sort of attack, and Arthur took this as a promising sign. Poking his head through the doorway, Arthur took in the area in more thorough detail. It appeared as if the door they’d just exited through led straight to a corridor. To the right there was a dead end -- nothing more than an incredibly high-set window on that wall that they would not be able to climb out of -- which meant that there was only one option as to where they could go next.
Arthur led the way, holding out his sword as he followed the hall. There was nothing on the walls, save for dirt, which left little indication of whether there was anyone -- or ever had been anyone -- living here. The hallway twisted to the right at some point, and just when Arthur thought they must be nearing the end, it would twist once more. A feeling of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach, twisting and turning uncomfortably the longer they walked, and Arthur didn’t like it at all. He turned back several times throughout the walk, tossing a glance over his shoulder just to ensure Merlin was still there, even though he stuck to Arthur like glue, to the point where Arthur could hear Merlin’s ragged breathing. All the same, it helped quell his nerves to know that Merlin was still right there with him.
Finally, after several tedious minutes of walking down the world’s longest corridor, they arrived at a flight of very steep stone stairs that seemed out of place in a building that wasn’t really all that tall to begin with. He gestured with a hand, signalling to Merlin that they were going to head upstairs.
The top landing opened up to another passage, wider than the one they’d just emerged from. Unlit candelabras hung on the walls between sets of doors -- two on either side of the hall -- that seemingly led to rooms. There was another high-set window on the far wall but no other way out.
“Well, this seems promising,” Merlin said.
Arthur frowned, forehead crinkling in annoyance. That was an understatement. The high priestess had to be here somewhere, and Arthur was determined to find her before something else found them.
“You could say that again. I guess we might as well see what’s behind door number one,” said Arthur, reaching for the handle of the door to their immediate right and pushing it open.
He wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting, but unlike last time there were no dangerous creatures lurking about, or any sign of anything, really. The room was empty, save for a large brown chest which sat in the upper left corner of the room, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime.
Arthur strolled over to the chest, sheathing his sword for the moment. There was no threat here that he could see. A soft click from behind indicated that Merlin had shut the door behind them, and Arthur wondered if that was the best plan, but didn’t bother commenting on it, seeing as how it was already closed, the damage already done.
“This place is disgusting,” he mused, swiping a single finger across the top of the chest. It emerged black, crushed layers of dust and filth coating the tip of his finger, and Arthur absently wiped the gunk off on his trousers.
Kneeling in front of the chest, Arthur started fiddling with what appeared to be a sophisticated, and entirely too complicated lock, attempting to determine the best way to open the darn thing. Perhaps if he stared at it long enough, with the superior stare of intimidation that usually snapped unruly knights to attention in a heartbeat, it would just open on its own.
“Do you know of any magic spells for opening locks?” Arthur asked, beginning to realise just how useful Merlin could potentially be in similarly frustrating situations.
A beat passed with no comment. “Merlin, have you suddenly gone deaf or something?”
The responding silence was uncharacteristic, and in the next moment it occurred to Arthur that he could no longer hear Merlin’s breathing. Something felt off again, like there was some sort of threat looming in the distance, and Arthur didn’t like the way his stomach coiled tightly. Whirling around, Arthur came face to face with nothing but empty space where Merlin should have been.
"Merlin?" Arthur blinked, scanning the small room for any sign of his lanky manservant, but he was nowhere to be seen.
He headed back towards the door they'd just entered, and gave it a firm tug, but it didn't budge. "Merlin?" Arthur called again, placing both hands on the door handle and giving it a solid yank. He nearly fell back from the force, frustration building steadily. Arthur kicked at the bottom of the door in annoyance, his only reward a brief jolt of pain that shot up his right leg.
Arthur pressed his ear to the solid wood and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Are you out there, Merlin?" he shouted, trying to project the sound as far as possible as he waited for a response. There was nothing.
"Well, isn't this just bloody fantastic?" Arthur grumbled to himself as he stepped back from the door. It appeared as though he was stuck in this room, alone, and he didn't have a clue as to where Merlin was, or if he was all right.
The window looking out the west side of the building was small, but large enough to squeeze through, in theory. Arthur went over to examine the situation. Bars prevented him from sticking a head outside to see if there was any ledge to climb on, but after a quick test, it became apparent that the bars framing the window were only still loosely attached, at best. After several minutes of exertion, coupled with a long string of expletives that probably weren't wholly necessary, Arthur gave one last shove, and the bars practically flew off the window, landing with a loud clatter on the ground below.
He let out a whoop of success, before sobering.
"Aren't you clever," he heard from behind, all of a sudden, causing him to nearly crack open the back of his skull on the top of the window in surprise.
Arthur whipped around at the sound, eyes widening upon seeing Merlin, leaning casually in the doorway. There hadn't even been any sound to indicate that the door opened at all to begin with. All the same, Arthur felt relief wash over him at the sight of Merlin.
"Thank the gods, where have you been? Didn't you hear me calling you?" Arthur asked. Merlin eyed him, but said nothing.
Window completely forgotten for the moment, Arthur strolled back towards Merlin, already formulating a plan.
"Come on, let's go. There's nothing of use in this room," he announced, heading for the door.
But he was prevented from walking through by an arm. Merlin's arm, to be specific. "What are you doing?" he asked, trying to push past him, but Merlin was surprisingly strong as he singlehandedly stopped Arthur from exiting the room.
"Where are you going?" Merlin queried, voice even.
"What do you mean? I told you there's nothing here. Stop messing around, Merlin. We have to find the high priestess."
Arthur made another attempt to shove past Merlin, annoyance rising at his ridiculous antics. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he was willing to admit during the wyvern attack. But this time Merlin placed a hand on his chest, touch icy and painful, and Arthur tried to jump back away from the sensation, confusing burning in his eyes, but he found he couldn't move.
In the next instant, Arthur felt himself being shoved back by an invisible force, pulling him until he hit the far wall. Shoving away from the wall, he quickly found that something was holding him in place -- nothing tangible, but a strong magical force that felt similar to chains, if he were able to see them. Merlin stepped fully into the room as the door slammed shut behind him with a loud thud. Everything about the situation felt off, like it was all wrong and he'd stepped into some alternate universe; except he was quite certain that he hadn't.
"You need to stay here," Merlin said, voice cold and commanding as he strolled casually towards Arthur, still held in place by the invisible chains.
"What the hell are you doing? We don't have time for games." Arthur felt himself getting more annoyed with every passing second.
Merlin fell silent once more, staring hard at Arthur with no real purpose or intent that he could see. "You think this is a game?” he asked. “Maybe you're the one who's mentally deficient."
In spite of the little evidence he had to go on, he decided that this was definitely not Merlin, as much as it may have looked and sounded like him. "I'm not sure who you are, but I know you're not really Merlin. What the hell have you done with him?"
The man chuckled mirthlessly, the sound chilling to Arthur’s ears. "I'm the real Merlin. There's no mistake about that."
Arthur glared. "No, you're not. I know Merlin, and you're not him."
"Oh, but I am," the man pretending to be Merlin drawled, voice seeping with sadistic pleasure as he took another step forward. "Do you need me to prove it? Fine, I will."
Without waiting for a comment, he began speaking again. "As a child you had two bloodhounds that you loved dearly. You cried for three days when one was accidentally killed in a hunting accident."
Arthur tried not to roll his eyes. "That's not exactly uncommon knowledge." It wasn't as if the entire kingdom was aware of the incident, but enough people had been involved in the whole situation -- Arthur's nursemaid at the time had even held a funeral for his lost companion -- that it wouldn't be hard to track down the story, if one so desired to know.
Merlin proceeded to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Fine. That clearly wasn’t satisfactory for you. Let's move onto something else then. You have a long, narrow scar on your lower back from getting into a fight as a teenager with the son of a visiting noble."
Once again, that little piece of evidence wasn’t overly convincing to Arthur, who was already certain that this wasn’t the Merlin he knew.
"That, too, isn't some deep, dark secret. Many people are aware of stories surrounding scars I have. I'm a prince, after all." Well, mostly only Arthur's father and a handful of nursemaids and servants were aware of the fact that he had a scar; even less knew why, but it could just have easily been a lucky guess. It did nothing to sway Arthur’s opinion whatsoever.
"Even the one on your inner left thigh, about four inches above your knee?"
Arthur blinked, knowing exactly what scar he was referring to. It was a ridiculous incident, involving a blade, poor insight on Arthur's part, and Merlin's general incompetence; basically, a lesson on throwing daggers gone awry. Arthur'd figured that it might be easier to start Merlin off with some basic training with a smaller weapon instead of a broadsword, but clearly that'd been a poor decision. Arthur had raged, Merlin had freaked right out, there was a lot more blood than either had expected, and after a great deal of apologising and reassurances, everything had been fine. Needless to say, no one knew about that incident save for Merlin, Arthur and Gaius, whose assistance they'd required with helping to properly bandage the wound.
"I take it your silence is causing you to have second thoughts?" Merlin crowed at him, smirking devilishly.
Arthur shook his head, keeping his expression neutral. It was entirely possible Gaius had told someone about the incident. "Not at all. I know Merlin, and you're not him, so why don't you just tell me what you want?"
The smirk grew tenfold. Merlin folded his arms, looking amused. "I want you," he said, stare heavy and intense, but voice twisted... malicious, almost. "I thought that was obvious the other day when I clung to you, after we both came in the forest. You begged me to never leave you, don't you remember?"
Arthur felt himself pale, stomach churning just a little. This time it was painfully obvious that no one else knew about that particular moment between them, and in spite of still being fairly convinced that the man standing before him was an imposter or some magical incarnation of Merlin, he couldn’t quite quash the tiny bit of doubt that wormed its way into his head anyway.
Merlin watched him expectantly, but Arthur refused to allow anything to show in his face. “Did you think I didn’t know what was going on back in the dungeons, when you asked me to read that piece of paper? Did you honestly think I was so stupid that I didn’t know what you were doing?”
Arthur kept quiet, pushing against the forces holding him in place, but they were still working exactly how they were supposed to, and he was barely able to do more than move an inch or two away from the wall at his back.
Merlin carried on, apparently taking the silence as an indication to keep speaking. “Have you ever wondered why I didn’t ever tell you about my magic? Why I’ve helped you all this time? Did you think it was because I was trying to protect you?” He laughed, the sound cold and humourless. “I knew I had to make sure you were alive to ascend to the throne, and bonding our souls was so brilliant I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself.”
A true scowl cropped up on Arthur’s face, brows furrowing. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Doesn’t it, though?” Merlin walked up to Arthur, placing a cold hand against his chest. Arthur tried to pull away from the touch, but he had nowhere to retreat to. “I spent all this time using my magic to keep you alive. I managed to earn your friendship and your trust and I protected you so that if you ever found out about my abilities, you would realise that all I’d ever done was try and help you. I knew you would forgive me and trust me again, because you have a weakness for me.”
Arthur swallowed heavily, fighting down the urge to recoil as Merlin dragged a single finger down his chest and stomach, stopping at the waistband of his trousers. He was also pointedly ignoring the fact that this version of Merlin was correct about one thing -- he was beginning to realise that it was quite clear that Arthur did have a weakness for Merlin, and perhaps that would one day become his downfall, if he wasn’t careful. Their current predicament notwithstanding.
“And now that I’ve won not only your friendship and trust, but your heart as well, you are completely helpless against me, Arthur Pendragon.”
Merlin’s hand moved up to his chest once more, and then, he started pushing, digging into the flesh around his rib cage. Arthur gasped as the cold mixed with a sudden, searing pain, and he watched with a sense of abject horror as Merlin began to push his fingers into Arthur’s chest. He felt the tear of skin, the crushing of bones, breath stilting in his throat as he tried to gasp, but couldn’t seem to find the ability to do so over the white hot burn in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead, hair matting to the damp surface. It was some of the most excruciating pain he’d ever been subjected to before in his life, agony intensifying only with the knowledge that it was Merlin -- or someone masquerading as Merlin -- causing him to suffer like this.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” Merlin taunted, pressing his hand further into Arthur’s chest until he felt like he was going to explode from the pain and the pressure.
But he shook his head, closing his eyes briefly against another wave of nausea. “No.”
“Why not?” Merlin growled into his ear. “Are you too afraid? What’s the worst that could happen? You don’t think I’m really Merlin anyway, so if you attack me it’s not as if you’re hurting your real lover, is it?”
The voice continued to taunt him, though he could barely hear through the searing pain. He wouldn’t hurt Merlin, didn’t think it was even possible for him to do so -- not under any circumstances -- even if Merlin shattered his heart entirely, plucking it piece by piece from his chest.
“Unless you finally believe me and know that I’m exactly who I say I am and can’t bring yourself to hurt me anyway, even though I betrayed you. Again. I always knew you were weak, Arthur, but this is pathetic, even for you,” Merlin practically spat, twisting his fingers inside Arthur’s chest, causing him to lurch violently from the agony for a moment before it subsided enough for him to be able to breathe again. “Come on, I’ll even give you a fair chance here,” he said.
Merlin wrenched his hand out of Arthur’s body, stained crimson with his blood, and the pain was almost as paralysing as when he’d first pushed fingers through Arthur’s chest. The few threads of logic that still weaved through Arthur’s mind told him that he shouldn’t even be alive, that these injuries should have been fatal. No one could sustain an open wound to the chest like this and still be able to breath... to move. How Arthur was even conscious at all was a mystery, and he was certain there had to be an explanation somewhere. However, he couldn’t reason past the pain, and then, without warning, the magical chains suddenly disappeared.
“Get up,” Merlin commanded. “You’re not dead yet. You have a chance to even the score here.”
Using the last reserves of strength he had left, reserves that should’ve been non-existent by all logic, Arthur pushed himself up into a seated position, only faintly aware of the blood soaking his tunic and the ground. “I am not fighting you,” he managed to grind out, before his world started spinning again.
“Not even if I gave you the means to get rid of me for good?”
And suddenly a small dagger appeared on the ground at Arthur’s feet. Merlin walked up to him, kneeling down between his legs, and he picked up the dagger, placing it into Arthur’s right hand, curling fingers around Arthur’s until he had a strong enough grasp not to drop it.
“You’re a coward,” Merlin taunted, wicked smirk plastered on his face so much so that it barely even resembled the man Arthur knew.
Arthur glanced down at the dagger in his hand.
“Your father was right -- you are weak. You would be an embarrassment to Camelot as a king.”
Arthur’s hand tightened momentarily around the hilt.
“Your mother is dead because of you, and your father hates you for it; he always will. Every time he looks at you he wishes he had your mother instead.”
Fingers twitched, and somewhere between the haze of the pain and anger, the idea that he could do this and end the misery slipped into Arthur’s mind.
Merlin continued his string of mockery. “I hope you understand how much I despise you, in case there was any doubt. I’ve never met a more self-centered, arrogant, weak, cowardly person in my life. Even in Ealdor I could find men with more honour than you have in your little finger.”
Arthur peered up at Merlin’s snarling face, suddenly filled with the desire to use the dagger like he’d been suggesting, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to hurt Merlin, regardless of the situation.
“Do it,” Merlin practically screamed at him, throwing arms out to the side in a sacrificial pose. “I know you want to; you’re dying to kill me.”
Arthur coughed, a thin trail of blood dripping from the corner of his lip. Even though it was what Merlin wanted, he still couldn’t do it. Perhaps it was true, that he was a coward who was completely helpless for Melrin. This was a terrible way to go, but Arthur didn’t see any other options. So he let his hand loosen, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clank.
“I won’t,” he finally managed to spit out just before his world faded to black.
Arthur awoke to the feeling of someone prodding and poking him, a frantic voice chattering at him, even though he couldn’t make out the words.
He rolled onto his back, mostly involuntarily, and when his vision finally cleared, he was able to make out the face of Merlin, staring down at him in worry.
Without even really processing what he was doing, Arthur jumped up, and scrambled back towards the wall, putting distance between himself and Merlin, not knowing if this was the real one, or the one who’d just tried to kill him.
“Arthur...?” Merlin asked, eyes concerned and expression unable to hide the hurt.
“Stay away,” Arthur said, holding out a hand as he struggled to clear his head and make sense of what was going on.
“Arthur, it’s me. Don’t worry,” Merlin said, trying to reassure Arthur as he took a single step forward.
“How do I know that?” Arthur demanded, coming across far more harshly than he’d intended.
Something in Merlin’s eyes flickered briefly, like sadness, but Arthur staunchly chose to ignore it. “Because I just had the same thing happen to me as you did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I was just attacked by you. Or, er, someone who looked like you. But I knew it wasn’t. You, I mean.” He took another cautious step forward, and Arthur felt his heart skip involuntarily, even as his brain registered that this was a possible scenario.
“You don’t look like you were attacked,” he said, gesturing towards Merlin, who appeared to be in perfect physical condition. Or as perfect as he was prior to their separation, anyway.
“This was how I looked when I woke up, but trust me when I say it was not good.”
“How would your injuries just suddenly heal like that?”
Merlin shrugged, glancing down at his feet before casting eyes upon Arthur once again. “I don’t know. In the same way that yours did?”
Arthur frowned, confused all of a sudden. “What are you talking about? Can’t you see all the blo--” He trailed off mid-sentence as he looked down at himself, and was struck with the fact that he appeared just as healthy as Merlin did. No blood, no gaping wound, no nothing.
“What the hell happened?” he wondered, talking as much to himself as he was to Merlin.
Merlin took the last couple of steps to reach Arthur, and he knelt down on the floor in front of Arthur. “I’m not entirely sure, but I heard you tell me to check out the room across the hall, so I did. And then when I was about to leave, you came in and attacked me.” He bit his lip. “Well, not you, but someone like you.”
Arthur nodded, a pained expression briefly appearing on Merlin’s face before he hurried to hide it, though not before Arthur noticed. He suspected that Merlin’s false Arthur had probably said some very hurtful things to him.
“The injuries should have killed me, I think. But obviously they didn’t, since we’re both still here. Maybe they were all a dream or a vision or something? Definitely magical, at the very least,” Merlin continued on.
Arthur blinked. “If it was a dream, it was the most realistic I’ve ever had.” He drifted back into memories, unable to entirely erase them.
“I would never hurt you. I’d never, ever hurt you Arthur,” Merlin said, drawing Arthur out of his own mind as Merlin leaned in to press a kiss to Arthur’s forehead. “I promise it’s the real me.” And then he moved forward again, planting a soft kiss on Arthur’s mouth, lips warm and gentle and loving.
When they pulled apart, Arthur captured Merlin’s face in both hands, studying his eyes, looking for any evidence that he was being taken advantage of. But there was none of the hatred and cruelty that’d been present in the fake Merlin’s eyes; there was nothing but concern and affection and unwavering trust in these beautiful eyes, and he knew for good that this was Merlin, his Merlin.
“I know,” he breathed, pulling him close, arms wrapping around Merlin for just a moment. “I’m sorry. I just needed to be sure.”
“It’s all right,” Merlin said. “I know you did. Do you think you can get up?”
Arthur thought about it for a second, didn’t feel any of his earlier pain, and nodded, accepting Merlin’s extended hand as he helped pull him up off the floor.
“We stick together from now on,” Arthur said, and reached out to take Merlin’s right hand in his left. “Don’t let go under any circumstances,” he instructed, threading their fingers together.
“I won’t,” Merlin promised, and they made their way out of the room to see what else they had to face.
It was not all that surprising when Arthur and Merlin exited the room, only to find that the staircase they’d originally ascended had completely vanished. In its place was a blank wall, dirty and worn, as if it’d always been there. However, at the other end of the hall there was now a new stone pathway that extended upwards.
“I guess this leads us to our next disaster,” Arthur said, pointing to the newly revealed staircase. “Wherever that might be. You ready?”
Merlin nodded, appearing far more certain than Arthur felt, and he withdrew the sword once again, just in case, leading the way.
At the top of the stairs, there was a small landing and a single wooden door.
“What do you think is behind the door?” Merlin asked.
Arthur shrugged, tossing an encouraging look in Merlin’s direction, despite the fact that he felt anything but encouraged at the moment. “I have no idea, but I’m praying that it isn’t any crazed magical creatures or another set of doubles. Or anything else dangerous, for that matter.”
Merlin’s expression was nothing short of dubious. “And, um, what do you think the likelihood of there being nothing whatsoever is?”
“Probably slim to none.”
A sigh. “I thought so.”
“Cheer up, Merlin. We’ve made it this far already. It can’t get much worse than that, right?” He smiled in spite of himself, already regretting the statement he’d just made, and dreading what they were going to find on the other side of this door. He sobered quickly, and using his sword, Arthur carefully gestured towards Merlin’s free hand. “You’re going to need to open the door for us, though,” he added. “I’m not letting go of your hand or my sword.”
Merlin reached out and grabbed onto the latch, opening the door slightly before stepping back. Using his foot, Arthur lightly kicked the door open. They waited with bated breath, hoping against hope that nothing would spring out and attack them, and thankfully, nothing did.
After a few moments, Arthur made his way cautiously into the room, Merlin at his heels.
“Congratulations,” a female voice announced, though Arthur couldn’t see anyone. His left hand continued to grip Merlin’s firmly, right hand still holding out his sword as Arthur’s gaze quickly swept the room.
“You have passed the trials,” the voice continued. It seemed to be originating from the furthest wall from where they stood. Instinctively, Arthur pulled Merlin behind him, even though it was painfully obvious that he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
“Show yourself,” Arthur said, swinging the sword slowly back and forth through the air in front of them.
“I mean you no harm,” the woman said, and suddenly he could see her, standing behind a large oak table at the back of the room, though he had no idea how she’d managed to get there without Arthur noticing in the first place. “You should be proud of yourselves.”
“We’ve what?” Arthur asked, only now actually beginning to process the meaning of her words.
She smiled at them, warm, sincere. “You’ve passed the trials. Please, come closer.” She gestured with her hands for them to move towards where she stood.
Arthur shot Merlin a questioning look, but he simply shrugged in response. It appeared as though they were no longer in danger, though Arthur couldn’t help but remain somewhat distrustful regardless. However, the reality was that they had nowhere else to go anyway, no way out that they’d seen. Besides, they were here to meet with the high priestess in the first place. So he gave Merlin’s hand a tug, deciding for them both, leading him hesitantly forward as they approached the woman standing several feet away with no small amount of trepidation. But something in the air felt less perilous, and Arthur allowed his sword to lower to the ground, though he refused to sheath it, as a precautionary measure.
She was fairly tall, with dark eyes, olive skin and a solid frame. Long, silver curls framed her face, which appeared to be both youthful and aged at the same time. She wore a long, sleeveless sky blue dress that appeared to shine, even in the absence of natural lighting. Her expression was warm and welcoming, but Arthur sensed a great power emanating from her person, and knew instinctively that she could just as easily turn against them if enraged. It wasn’t hard, from that point, to make the leap that this was the high priestess they’d been seeking.
Suddenly her words clicked in Arthur’s mind. “What do you mean, we’ve passed the trials?” he asked. Beside him, Merlin shifted, moving to stand in line with Arthur. “We haven’t done anything.”
She smiled at them, a cryptic gleam in her eyes. “Haven’t you, though?”
Arthur frowned, having absolutely no clue what she was talking about. Apparently Merlin felt the same way. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“What do you think you just did?”
Multiple thoughts immediately sprang to mind -- attacked a slew of wyverns, barely escaping with their lives; wandered through the veritable mazes of this tower; and battled false versions of one another -- but somehow he didn’t quite think that she would appreciate any of those answers.
Without waiting for a response, she started walking around the table, heading in their direction. “Tell me, what is your business here?” she asked, completely side stepping her previous question.
Arthur caught Merlin’s eye, raising a brow in silent query. You can tell her, he replied through their mental connection, and Arthur nodded. But he wasn’t oblivious to the slight hint of sadness Merlin hadn’t quite been able to mask.
“We are seeking the high priestess to undo a soul bond,” he said, ignoring the way his stomach churned at the words. He found, quite cowardly, that he couldn’t look at Merlin.
The woman stopped approximately six feet away, folding her hands, studying them both for a moment before nodding, satisfied. “I am the high priestess you seek.” Arthur didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed, but she carried on before he had a chance to respond. “You say that you’re here to break a soul bond, but I see that your particular bond is quite unique.”
“Unique? What do you mean?” Merlin asked, shooting Arthur a curious glance before returning his attention to the high priestess.
“The trials,” she said, holding out one palm as if that explained anything.
The confusion must have been plastered plainly across their faces, as she heaved a disappointed sigh and shook her head, lowering the raised hand back to her side. “The trials you just completed assess three main components: strength of power, strength of character, and strength of bond. The creatures that attacked you when you first arrived are called wyverns. They are not something that can be defeated alone. This was the test of the strength of your power. Your strength of character and bond were tested when you were separated and confronted with your worst nightmares of one another. Even though they were merely manifestations, if either of you had risen to the bait, you would have failed. Your bond was also tested during the wyvern fight. You were required to work together and efficiently, something that would not have been possible without a strong bond to carry you through.”
She paused, eyeing Merlin, then Arthur, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. “While you both possess vastly different styles of combat, the strength of your individual powers is significant, and when combined, truly staggering. This can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on how you use your powers. Which is why the strength of your character is significant.”
The woman tilted her head, focusing her attention on Merlin, and she nodded in his direction. “You are impulsive and often act before you’ve entirely thought through the consequences. But you are fiercely loyal and dedicated to those who are important to you. Your heart is pure, and filled with love and compassion. You do not always make the wisest decisions, but most everything you do comes from the right place. You would willingly sacrifice yourself for family or a close friend without hesitation, even risking your life for a stranger, if you felt strongly enough about the situation.”
Arthur glanced over at Merlin, curious to see his reaction to her words. Merlin gazed over at her curiously, a light flush tinting his cheeks pink. He seemed both flattered and embarrassed at the same time, and the sight of it stirred something warm in Arthur’s gut.
She turned her attention to Arthur next, and captured his gaze. It felt as though she was peering right into his soul, eyes searching and intense, and he simultaneously wanted to break the contact while wishing it would never end. “You are guarded, often keeping your true self from others, as a great deal of responsibility lies on your shoulders. Sometimes you make the wrong decisions, but your heart is ruled by fairness and compassion. You will not stand around and allow injustices to occur, and are willing to fight for what you believe in. There are many who pledge their allegiance to you, but there are those to whom your loyalty is pure and unwavering. You, too, possess a character of great strength.”
She smiled at him, lips quirking softly, and gave them both an expectant look, as if she was expecting something from them in return.
“Thank you,” Arthur told her sincerely. But that still didn’t explain anything about their soul bond, or how it somehow made it unique. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m still not quite certain what this has to do with our bond.”
She laughed, light and airy, as if the thought was utterly amusing. “Have a seat,” she told them, sweeping a hand out in front of her.
Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. There were no chairs in the room at all. But then he felt a tug on his arm and turned around to see two chairs a few feet back. It was as if they’d sprung up like magic, which was actually probably exactly what had happened. He shot Merlin a dubious look but sat down anyway, extricating his hand from Merlin’s, having completely forgotten he was still holding it at all. He missed the contact immediately.
The high priestess snapped her fingers and another chair materialized before their eyes, sat a few feet in front of the table to the rear, elevated above theirs. She perched on the edge of the chair, staring down at them, and Arthur could feel the power radiating from her once more.
“I sense you have many questions for me. But first, let me tell you a few things about soul bonds. A successful soul bond is a rarity, like a highly valued gem. Most attempts at bonding two souls usually fail, not because of the complexity of the spell, but because of the connection -- or lack of connection, as if often the case -- between the two individuals attempting the bond.”
Merlin’s fingers brushed against the back of Arthur’s hand as it rested against the armrest of the chair, and he turned to glance at Merlin, who stared back at him. That explains a lot, don’t you think? he asked silently, and Arthur nodded in response.
She gave them a knowing look before carrying on, and it caused a blush to rise up Arthur’s face, preposterous as he knew the reaction was. “A soul bond can only be successfully formed between two people who already have a very close connection, often occurring between family members, close friends, or lovers.” The blush spread all the way to the tips of Arthur’s ears, but he steadfastly ignored it, keeping curious eyes locked on the high priestess.
"Most successful bonds are able to elicit certain special abilities, unique to the soul bond, as a consequence of the magic that was used to create them. Some of the most common abilities include being able to communicate using only the power of your mind, sensing each other's feelings and emotions, even at a great distance, and having the power to affect each other’s emotions," she said. "Then, of course, there are the other elements of the soul bond, which can be troublesome. Separation of a great physical distance can cause weakness, mental anguish, and sickness that can sometimes lead to a physical shutting down of the body until the bond is re-established. In rare cases, if the distance separated is too great for an extended period of time, the consequence can be death. But this is only the case in new, or untrained soul bonds."
Something lit at the back of Arthur's mind, like a mental torch being set aflame. "Wait, what do you mean 'untrained soul bonds'? Are you saying that we're able to control aspects of the bond?" he asked, leaning forward, curious.
The high priestess nodded at him, folding her hands in her lap elegantly. "Yes, to an extent. When new bonds are formed, even strong ones, the bonded still need time to grow into and adjust to them. Their newfound connection needs to be fostered and practiced in order to see it fully blossom. For example, newly bonded individuals cannot be separated by long distances for great periods of time, or they are both affected physically and mentally.”
Arthur shot Merlin a knowing look before returning his attention to the high priestess.
“However, if they start off slowly, separating for short periods of time and short distances, over time they can increase the distance and length of time spent apart without any negative impact.”
This was intriguing information, and Arthur suddenly wanted to know more, entirely ignoring the fact that this wouldn’t be relevant to them soon anyway. “So are there other things we could do, in theory, to train our bond?” he asked.
The high priestess shot him a curious look, eyeing him suspiciously, but she carried on. “Of course. A bond can be trained in any number of ways, if the right attention is paid to it. The more the bonded utilise their mental connection, for example, the less physical strain it will cause them, until eventually it is no longer difficult at all.”
Arthur nodded, absorbing the information, all the while pondering deeply what other sorts of ways there were for them to train and develop this bond. Maybe... Perhaps it was possible that they didn’t have to... But no, Arthur knew it was foolish to allow his mind to even travel down that path seriously and mentally scolded himself for the same.
Still, he couldn’t quite stop himself from asking the question anyway. “I know that the bond can cause death, right? But in theory, could it also not prevent it in the same way?”
Brows arched high on the priestess’ forehead, and Arthur could feel Merlin’s gaze piercing the side of his face. Her eyes developed a mischievous glint and she folded her hands in her lap. “Now, that is an interesting question, Arthur Pendragon. To my knowledge it has never been successfully done before. But that doesn’t mean that it’s impossible, especially with a bond as strong as yours.”
Silence descended on the room with the significance of those words suddenly weighing heavily on Arthur’s heart. Numerous thoughts immediately popped into his head, demanding attention and filling him with an unidentified feeling of hope all of a sudden, but Arthur didn't know where to begin exactly. There was a part of him that wanted to pursue this line of questioning further and another part that felt like he knew enough already. In the end, Merlin made the decision unwittingly for him.
"So what makes our particular bond so special?" Merlin piped in, breaking the silence, effectively moving the conversation in a different direction.
She smiled at them with a twinkle in her eye, as if she'd been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to answer this particular question.
"Because when you were bonded," she pointed at each of them in turn, "you had a connection as intense as that of lovers."
Arthur opened his mouth to protest that they weren't lovers at the time -- not because he was embarrassed, but because he felt obligated to defend both of their honour -- however, she held up a hand, and Arthur bit his tongue to allow her to speak instead. "I know that you were not then," she said, as if reading his mind, "but you are now. The closest and most effective bonds are between lovers, followed closely by immediate relatives, and then friends. The significant factor about a bond between lovers is that there is a physical as well as a mental and emotional connection between them, which does not exist with the other two types of bonds.”
He wasn't surprised to hear that, and in fact believed it made perfect sense that lovers would have the strongest bond. But there was something else Arthur desperately had to know. It wasn't that he believed it was true, but at the same time, he needed to hear the truth, so that he wouldn't ever doubt in the future. "You said earlier that one of the resulting aspects of the bond is the ability to feel each other's emotions and feelings. But the bond... it can't create thoughts, or emotions, or other things along those lines, correct? For example, it won't make you suddenly change your feelings or opinions about a person?"
Arthur tried not to look up at Merlin, hoped that he wouldn't take offense to the question. He cared deeply for Merlin -- had for a long time, if he were being completely honest with himself -- of that he was absolutely certain now. But if there was even the smallest chance that any of the feelings he currently harboured for the man had been a result of the bond, it was important that he knew.
A soft laugh escaped past her lips, bubbling out of her with sheer amusement, and Arthur’s brows shot immediately up his forehead at her response. Shaking her head, she smiled down at him. “No,” she responded simply. “A soul bond never creates something from nothing. It merely brings to the surface what is already there in your heart. In some ways it is like a gift to those who may deny or are not as in touch with their feelings.”
Arthur felt himself blush again, feeling as if she was speaking directly to him with that last statement, and perhaps she was.
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Continue on to part ten.