No Law - Chapter Nine: During the Night
Title: No Law
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen, Arthur/Gwen/Merlin
Rating: R
Summary: It was a silly thing. Just a wine stain on a very white shirt removed by magical means. But now, Arthur knows about the magic, and everything is not quite as Merlin would have expected. Arthur is weirdly vulnerable and brilliant, Gaius is growing distant and mysterious and maybe a little bit insane, and Gwen knows exactly just where she wants her boys to be. Or: The one where Arthur finds out about the magic, is angry about the lies but not at Merlin, and things keep changing. Also, fathers are a difficult thing to have.
Warning: Some intriguing sex (het, slash and threesome). Plotting Gaius is plotting. Goes AU somewhen in the hiatus between S4 and S5.
Disclaimer: The characters and concept of this version of the Arthurian legends belong to Shine and the BBC, not to me. I'm just playing with them.
Author's Note: Reply to this prompt on kinkme_merlin: http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/33344.html?thread=34990656#t34990656
First Chapter:
Teaser: Where Gaius gets an unwelcome surprise and things start to get wonky
Chapter Warning: Disturbing dream images hinting at disturbing real life occurances
Also, excessive use of capitals and itialics.
During the Night
THE WALL WAS ALL AROUND HIM. IT WAS HARD AND COLD AND SEE-THROUGH AND HE COULDN’T BREACH IT, COULD NEVER BREACH IT. HE ALWAYS KNEW THAT. HE ALSO KNEW THAT HE WAS SMALL, AND HE WAS VERY SCARED. HE WASN’T ALLOWED TO BE SCARED, BUT HE STILL WAS.
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL, THERE WERE PEOPLE, GLITTERING AND SHINY AND HAPPY AND TWIRLING, BUT THEY MADE HIM SAD AND SHIVERY, BECAUSE HE WASN’T OUT THERE WITH THEM. HE WAS BEHIND THE WALL WITH THE THING THAT WAS HARD AND COLD AND SCARED-MAKING, ALMOST LIKE THE WALL, ONLY WORSE. HE PRESSED HIS NOSE AGAINST THE WALL TO BE CLOSER TO THE PRETTY PEOPLE, BUT HE DIDN’T DARE MAKE A SOUND, BECAUSE THEN THE THING WOULD HEAR, AND IT WOULD COME. IT ALWAYS CAME.
THERE WAS A BOOMING NOISE OVER HIS HEAD, AND THEN ANOTHER, AND ANOTHER. HE DUCKED IN FRIGHT AND LOOKED UP, ALTHOUGH HE KNEW HE SHOULDN’T. THERE WERE BIRD-LIKE CREATURES FLYING AGAINST THE WALL WHERE IT ARCHED INTO A WIDE DOME OVER HIS HEAD, AND WHEN THEY HIT IT, THEY BURST APART LIKE OVER-RIPE FRUIT. THEIR BLOOD WAS RUNNING DOWN THE WALL, AND THEY SCREAMED LIKE CHILDREN AS THEY DIED. HE ROLLED HIMSELF INTO A BALL, HIDING HIS HEAD BENEATH HIS ARMS. IT WAS A MISTAKE, BECAUSE THE THING KNEW WHEN HE WAS FRIGHTENED, AND THEN IT CAME, BUT HE COULDN’T HELP IT. HE WAS ONLY SMALL.
LEATHERY TALONS CLOSED AROUND HIS NAPE, PRESSING HIS FACE INTO THE DIRT. A TINY, PLEADING SOUND ESCAPED HIS THROAT, AND HE FLAILED ABOUT WILDLY, BUT THE THING WAS TOO STRONG FOR HIM AND HELD HIM DOWN WITH EASE.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” THE THING HISSED. “COWERING ON THE GROUND, CRAWLING IN THE DIRT LIKE A WORM? ARE YOU A WORM? ARE YOU?”
HE TRIED TO CRY OUT THAT HE WASN’T A WORM AND THAT HE DIDN’T WANT TO BE ONE, BUT THE LEATHERY TALONS TIGHTENED AROUND HIS NECK UND PUSHED HIS FACE DEEPER INTO THE EARTH, DEEPER AND DEEPER WHERE THE WORMS LIVED, HUGE AND SLIMY, SO THAT THEY COULD EAT HIS EYES OUT, AND ALL THE FLAILING AND CRYING IN THE WORLD DIDN’T HELP. THE THING WAS KNEELING ON HIS SHOULDERS NOW, FORCING HIS ENTIRE BODY INTO THE SOIL, AND THE DIRT CRAWLED INTO HIS MOUTH AND HIS NOSE AND HIS EYES, WHILE HE WAS SINKING THROUGH THE EARTH, DEEPER AND DEEPER, AND THE THING CALLED HIM WEAK AND DISGUSTING AND DISGRACEFUL AND LAUGHED AT HIM. AND WITH THE LAUGHTER AND THE DIRT CAME THE WORMS, FILLING HIS MOUTH AND WRIGGLING DOWN HIS THROAT, AND HE KNEW THEY WOULD EAT HIM INSIDE OUT, GUTS AND EYES AND ALL, AND ALTHOUGH HE KNEW HE COULDN’T AND HE KNEW HE SHOULDN’T, HE SCREAMED AND SCREAMED AND SCREAMED FOR IT TO STOP.
“Hush, hush, Arthur, my darling, shhhh, I’m here, we’re both here.”
He clung to the owner of the voice and gulped for air. The dream had left the taste of soil in his mouth, soil and other things he didn’t dare name, and he wanted to get rid of it so badly he started retching, bringing up nothing but air.
“Oh, hush, darling, hush. Oh god, Merlin …”
“Here, let me take him. You won’t be able to hold him much longer, if he goes on like that.”
Stronger arms closed around him, pulling him back against a solid chest. He fought them instinctively and almost panicked when their hold became even tighter, but then a deep, powerful voice said his name, calmly and yet authoritatively. It sounded like safety. He stopped fighting so hard, and the soft-strong hands over his stomach grew warm like sunshine. They were the very opposite of the cool, leathery talons of the thing in his dream, and somehow, that was enough. He burrowed into the body holding him and inhaled the familiar scent of it to eradicate the taste of dirt and other stuff.
“Oh god, Merlin, oh god. What is happening?”, said the other voice, the gentle one. Guinevere. Home. He felt her legs press against his side.
“What did you give him earlier?” asked the calm, powerful voice. Was that Merlin? It had to be Merlin. It smelt like Merlin. But Merlin didn’t hold him, unless he was dying. Was he dying? He didn’t think so. He coughed a bit to get the last of the dirt out, but Merlin’s scent had already helped a lot with that.
“Some … Some of the draught Gaius always uses when one of us has trouble sleeping. There was some left. Was that wrong?” She sounded distressed, and he didn’t like it. He searched for her hand with his, without raising his head from his dark, safe resting place against Merlin’s strong shoulder, and felt her fingers enclose his.
“It wouldn’t be, not normally. It is harmless enough, only some calming herbs, mixed with Gaius’s special recipe. However, I fear it did little good in this case. It might have helped him fall asleep, but it didn’t take away his distress. It just redirected it, causing bad dreams and maybe even preventing him from waking up sooner. I don’t think he is quite aware even now.”
“He can’t be. Otherwise he wouldn’t … oh god, Merlin, he does have nightmares sometimes, but nothing like this.”
“Don’t cry, G’envere.” He had lifted his head from his save place to say it and blinked into the flickering candle-light. There were shadows beyond the bed, but he avoided looking at them, concentrating on Guinevere’s illuminated face and the sorrow in it. “Don’t cry.”
She did anyway, burying her face against his chest and clinging to him.
“Don’t scare us like that again,” powerful-calm Merlin said against his ear. His lips were tickling his skin, and Arthur tilted his head back to look at him. He looked strange like that, his nose as giant as his ears and his cheekbones white and steep like the cliffs in the south. Arthur giggled.
“Oh, now you’re laughing, are you?” Merlin said, but his voice sounded like milk and honey. Or maybe clotted cream. Something soft and sweet anyway. Arthur raised the hand Guinevere was not clutching and traced one of Merlin’s cheekbones with his forefinger.
“My Merlin,” he whispered. “Saved me.”
He saw Merlin smile. His mouth was giant, too, but it looked broken, like glass. “I’ll always save you.”
Arthur nodded. “Even from the worms. And the wall. And the thing.”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. They looked like the sea branding against the cliffs, although they lay above them, like the sky. Arthur giggled again.
“I’ll save you from anything,” Merlin said with his powerful calmness-voice.
“Already did,” Arthur yawned and petted Guinevere’s hair to make her stop crying. He loved her too much to hear her cry. “You’re my giant, Merlin.”
“Your giant?”
Arthur nodded sleepily, his eye-lids slipping close. “My beautiful, white giant. Mine.”
“Yours,” Merlin whispered, and the word followed Arthur into his dreams.
**
Some time after Merlin had left, Gaius had finally managed to force down some bread and cheese and a few gulps of stale water. Then, he went to bed because there was nothing else he could do. Merlin was entirely unwilling to listen to him. Gaius had never seen his boy so angry, and he had to admit that there had been a few moments when he had been almost afraid of Merlin. He should have known accusing Arthur of anything would achieve nothing with the stubborn boy. Merlin would keep on believing what he wanted to believe. Luckily, he seemed to be save enough at the moment; at least Gaius had accomplished something by begging Gwen to interfere. But what was he to do next?
Gaius tossed and turned under his thin blanket (he broke into sweat so easily these days), while he mulled the problem over and over in his mind. What did Arthur want from Merlin? The boy was not wrong when he said that Arthur was usually impulsive rather than calculating, but that didn’t mean the king couldn’t strategize when he wanted to. He was an excellent military commander after all, and that surely hadn’t changed, even if his kind, forgiving heart had. And Merlin, the warlock, was, above all, a weapon. Kilgharrah had always known that and used it, Nimueh had misjudged its potential, Taliesin had honed it, the druids revered it, and many had died by it. Gaius had tried his best to shield Merlin from this cruel fate whenever possible. Quite often, however, he had had no choice but to utilise the weapon himself, for the good of Camelot and a future that might never come to pass now. Because Arthur must have recognized the weapon that was Merlin, too.
Gaius turned on his back, staring at the ceiling and the bundles of drying herbs hanging down from the beams, swaying slightly. They looked like witch-hair. Dawn was already seeping through the shutters, suffusing the room with a dirty-grey half-light. He must have drifted off somewhen during his musings, but now, he was wide awake. Arthur had seen the weapon. And he was first and foremost a soldier. More than that, he was a killer, born and raised. Uther had seen to that, as Gaius had been reminded painfully the evening before. And a bred warrior would never destroy a superb weapon. He would wield it.
Gaius shut his eyes in dismay. Behind his closed eyelids, pyres burned and Merlin was standing next to them with empty eyes. Uther had feared, hated and despised magic in equal measure, but he had never shied away from using it, be it by manipulating the dragonlords to deliver their charges to him or by drawing on Gaius’s own knowledge to bring yet another sorcerer down. Why should his son, the soldier, be any different?
With a start, Gaius forced his old bones out of bed. He couldn’t be idle, although he knew there was nothing immediate to be done. There was no longer an execution to stay, insofar Merlin was most probably right. However, Gaius had to prevent something potentially even more devastating. He shuddered to think what it might do to his gentle boy to be used like that, possibly against practitioners of magic and non-sorcerers alike, against anyone who crossed Arthur in any way. It might even have started already. After all, had the king not always used Merlin in some manner or another? And hadn’t Merlin let him, each and every time, because he couldn’t see straight for all the hope and all the adoration and maybe even for lust? (Gaius had always preferred not knowing, but now he did wonder where the power Arthur held over Merlin truly stemmed from.) Why should it be any different now? After all, Gaius knew all too well how things like this could happen, and his boy was even blinder and more naïve than Gaius himself had been in face off a young, shining king.
Gaius washed hastily, while some revitalizing tea was brewing over the fire. What was he to do? He was so old now, and Arthur had already made clear that he would be barely tolerated in Camelot from now on. How was he supposed to fight this rising young king when Merlin refused to even listen? By all that was holy, it had been a long time since he had felt so utterly powerless. Even while Morgana had had him imprisoned, he had felt like it was in his power to at least die and relieve the young knights of an unnecessary burden. But now?
Gaius sipped his bitter tea and grimaced. He had to face the truth: he was as good as helpless on his own. He needed allies desperately. To save Merlin. To save Camelot. To save the future. Or all might be lost.
**
Merlin felt quite unable to let go of Arthur. He was kind of squished against the headboard, with Arthur resting with his back against Merlin’s chest and Gwen lying halfway atop of Arthur, but he wouldn’t have changed his position for the world, not right now. He felt like he was holding something infinitely precious in his arms, and he wasn’t even ashamed of thinking soppy thoughts like that, and about Arthur, of all people, too. Tentatively, he rested his cheek against Arthur’s blond head. His hair felt soft on Merlin’s skin, kind of like he imagined golden grass would feel like, and the scent of it was so familiar it hurt.
Oh god, who was he even kidding anymore?
Merlin murmured some words into Arthur’s hair which he was sure he would deny even on his deathbed, and tightened his arms a little bit around the king’s torso. Arthur waking up from his nightmare gasping and retching had scared him a lot more than he had (hopefully) let on. It hadn’t felt like he was holding a grown man in his arms, despite Arthur’s solid bulk. His friend hadn’t even fought against his grip like a man, like himself; he had fought like a frightened child, trying to get away from something much stronger and larger than him.
Something trembled inside of Merlin, not from fear, but from pure fury. The urge to p r o t e c t had never been stronger (and that was saying something), even though there was nothing there to smite, nothing to eradicate in order to keep Arthur save. His magic was sizzling in the air, agitated, impatient. It wanted to act, but there was nothing Merlin could do short of invading Arthur’s dreams, and even in the state he was in, he knew better than that. So instead, he had his magic fill the room with calming noises like babbling brooks and tinkling wind chimes, and he held Arthur tight. There was no way, though, that he would get any sleep tonight, he was sure of that, not while his magic and his thoughts and his heart were playing havoc with his poor mind. Merlin was in full protector-mode, and he half feared Arthur might be snatched from his arms at any moment by something dark and sinister and monstrous
SOMETHING THAT WAS LURKING IN THE SHADOWS OF A CAVE THAT KNEW NO LIGHT, A CAVE SO DARK AND DEEP AND OLD IT BREATHED TIME, HE COULD FEEL IT LIKE A DRAGON INHALING AND EXHALING, ONLY IT WAS MUCH, MUCH MORE MALEVOLENT THAN A DRAGON COULD EVER BE.
HE TURNED AROUND, SEARCHING FOR A CLUE WHERE HE WAS. HE FOUND NONE, THOUGH, AND HE WAS ALL ALONE.
“ARTHUR?” HE YELLED. “ARTHUR?!?!”
THE DARKNESS AROUND HIM THREW THE NAME BACK AT HIM AND WHATEVER WAS BREATHING IN IT STARTED TO LAUGH. IT SOUNDED LIKE THE KING, THE OLD KING WHO HAD NEVER DIED. MERLIN SUDDENLY KNEW THAT WITH THE UTMOST CERTAINTY.
“SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING, SORCERER?” THE OLD-KING ASKED, STEPPING OUT OF THE DARKNESS THAT CLUNG TO HIM WITH INKY FINGERS, DRAGGING ARTHUR’S LIMP BODY BEHIND HIM. AT LEAST, MERLIN THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE ARTHUR. IT COULD HAVE BEEN A WOMAN, TOO. OR MAYBE A CHILD.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?” MERLIN WHISPERED.
“I DESTROYED IT!” THE OLD KING HISSED, HIS TEETH LONG AND SHARP. “I WILL DESTROY ALL OF YOU!”
THE OLD KING TOSSED THE BODY AT MERLIN LIKE A BUNDLE OF RAGS. IT LANDED FACE UP AT HIS FEET, AND GAIUS’S DEAD, EMPTY EYES STARED BACK AT HIM.
“NO,” MERLIN RASPED. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
“I BROKE IT,” DEAD GAIUS SAID, AND MERLIN KNELT DOWN NEXT TO HIM. HE TOUGHT HE KNEW THAT DEAD PEOPLE WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO TALK, BUT IT SOMEHOW MADE SENSE THAT GAIUS WOULD.
“WHAT DID YOU BREAK, GAIUS?”
“FAITH,” THE DEAD MAN SIGHED, AND THEN FIRE WAS BURSTING FORTH FROM HIS MOUTH, AND MERLIN THOUGHT HE WOULD FINALLY BURN, BUT THE FIRE WAS COOL LIKE A BREEZE IN SPRING, ENFOLDING HIM WITH THE GENTLENESS OF SOMEONE WHO CARED. MERLIN OPENED HIS EYES, EVEN THOUGH HE HADN’T BEEN AWARE OF CLOSING THEM, AND HE WAS LOOKING INTO ARTHUR’S CALM, SMILING FACE. HIS KING WAS HOLDING HIM, HIS HANDS MEETING BEHIND MERLIN’S SHOULDERBLADES.
“DON’T BE AFRAID,” HE SAID.
“I’M NOT,” MERLIN ASSURED HIM, BECAUSE HOW COULD HE BE, WITH HIS KING SURROUNDING HIM?
ARTHUR’S SMILE DEEPENED. “I’M GLAD,” HE WHISPERED, AND HIS HANDS SANK THROUGH MERLIN’S BACK AND CLOSED AROUND HIS HEART, HOLDING IT SOFTLY AND SO VERY CAREFULLY.
“CAN I KEEP IT?” HE ASKED, AND MERLIN NODDED AND STEPPED BACK, LEAVING HIS HEART IN ARTHUR’S GRASP. IT DIDN’T EVEN HURT.
**
Merlin didn’t wake with a start, but very gradually, only slowly realizing that he had been asleep and dreaming at all. The light that flooded through the undraped window was almost mauve, and he stared at it in wonder. The dream had been disturbing, yes, but it had also been oddly peaceful, like every single thing in it was just as it was supposed to be. These thoughts didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t dwell on it. It was only a dream.
Merlin didn’t tear his gaze away from the mauve morning light that was too beautiful for words until he felt a slight movement on his chest. He looked down and met Arthur’s clear, blue eyes. There was no fear in them, and Merlin smiled. Arthur blinked at him, but he didn’t move his head, his chin digging comfortably into Merlin’s chest.
“I feel like I should ask what you’re doing in my bed, but I dread the answer,” the king said in a very deadpan tone, and Merlin grinned. Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re not trying to guard me from woodworms again, are you?”
Merlin let his grin widen, but he had to force himself to do it. After last night, he didn’t much care for Arthur mentioning worms in any shape or form, even though it seemed like his friend didn’t remember his nightmare or what happened afterwards.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered and quickly ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “You have nothing to fear from the woodworms while I’m here.”
“I was not worried, Merlin!”
The protest was so familiar, that Merlin’s grin grew sincere again. His heart was beating warm and fast in his chest, and he felt so alive it was ridiculous. It made him a bit stupid, and before he could really think about it, he bent down and planted a smacking kiss right on Arthur’s forehead. The king stared at him with round eyes, unblinking.
“Oh, good,” he said after a moment in the same deadpan tone as before. “You’ve gone completely mad. Lovely.” Despite his words, however, he made no move to change his position atop of Merlin. All he did was lie his head back down on his manservant’s chest and huff a breath Merlin felt right through his borrowed shirt.
“Aren’t you going to get up?” he asked. “You know, off me?”
“Nope,” Arthur mumbled into his chest. It tickled. “For such a skinny guy, you’re surprisingly comfortable. Also, I can’t get up. My wife is lying on my back.”
So she was, or as good as. Somewhen during the night, Arthur had turned, so he was lying on his front (atop of Merlin, mind), and Gwen had curled up against her husband’s back like a cat, her upper half resting against his left shoulder.
“You would take any excuse not to get up in the morning,” Merlin admonished his king nevertheless, while his hand had resumed petting Arthur’s hair without consulting him. He’d missed this, seeing Arthur all sleep-ruffled and addled-brained. Since the king had taken him to task after his maybe, perchance, possibly a tiny bit overenthusiastic breakfast-serving the morning after the Royal Wedding, Merlin seldom came face to face with a sleepy Arthur anymore. Even if he served the king and queen breakfast in bed, it was a quite formal and dignified affair now (as far as attending two people who were probably entirely naked under the sheets and had most likely just done Dragoon-knows-what with each other could ever be dignified). There was no need to muzzle Arthur with scones and drag him bodily out of bed anymore, that was the point, and Merlin missed it. Full stop. It probably made him weird, but he still did.
“I do remember what happened, you know,” Arthur solemn words jolted him out of his musings. Merlin looked down. Other than pressing slightly (and probably unconsciously) into Merlin’s caressing touch, his king hadn’t moved. Even his eyes were still closed, but there was no mistaking the words Merlin had heard.
“I didn’t think you wouldn’t,” he replied hastily. “I’m glad you do, actually. Imagine me having to explain the whole magic thing again! I probably wouldn’t survive it.”
“And everyone would blame me for your sudden, inexplicable death. I can already see Gwaine giving me the evil eye. You know the one? Where I think I must have killed his favourite puppy in a former life?”
“You’re ridiculous. Gwaine holds you in great esteem.”
“But he adores you, you dolt. They all do. Even Leon adores you. He used to adore me!”
“Don’t be a dollop-head. Leon still adores you. Like crazy. I’m certain he would let you play with all his weapons, if you only asked.”
That, finally, made Arthur raise his head and gape at Merlin who was blinking at him with his best innocent “who, me?” expression.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” Arthur sputtered, and Merlin was treated to the rare sight of a bright blush creeping up the king’s cheeks. He stared at it in silent wonder for a few heartbeats, but when it dawned on him what it meant, he couldn’t hold back an incredulous guffaw.
“No! No, you didn’t!”
The blush grew even brighter.
“No!” Merlin exclaimed again. “Really?! Leon? You and Leon …” Sadly, Arthur’s hand over his mouth stifled any further exclamation of amazement, but Merlin still couldn’t keep in his laughter, muffled though it was.
“Shut up, Merlin, you idiot!” the king hissed. “How can you even …” He darted a glance backwards, but Gwen was sleeping on peacefully. He blew out a sigh of relief, but still looked incredibly flustered.
“Shut up,” he said again, although Merlin was valiantly working on supressing his giggles. “It was a long time ago anyway, before you even came here, and it is none of your business, understood?”
Merlin nodded, but he could feel his eyes sparkling above Arthur’s hand. This was truly priceless. It also stung a bit, learning after all this time that Arthur wasn’t all averse to manly charms, but mostly, it was hilarious, and Merlin wanted to ask so many questions, like when and what and how and why and possibly even where?
Any urge for indiscrete inquiries was smothered most effectively, though, when Arthur buried his face against Merlin’s neck and let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a quiet sob.
“Arthur?” Merlin said hesitantly, cradling the king’s head with both his hands. God, what had he done now? He really was an idiot.
“It’s not your fault,” Arthur mumbled against his neck. “But, god, every time I think there is nothing left of me for you to take, you find something else.”
“Um …”
“After last night … Good grief, you’ve truly seen all of me, haven’t you, Merlin? That’s what I meant when I said I remembered. What you saw last night, me and my nightmares and my fear and my weakness, and there I thought that there was nothing left of me to uncover, Merlin, nothing that isn’t yours. I’m naked when you look at me, Merlin, all the time. And how, how, how can you see and not turn away? How?”
“I’ll never have seen enough, Arthur, never,” Merlin rasped. His heart felt like thorns in his chest, and he wanted to obliterate anyone who had contributed to Arthur feeling like this, possibly including himself. “And I will keep every bit, every single piece and shard and splinter of you that I discover safe. Do you hear me?” He grabbed Arthur’s hair softly and shook him a bit. “Do you hear me?”
Arthur nodded. His arms closed around Merlin and he was clutching him like a child would a treasured toy. Merlin started stroking his hair again.
“I mean it, you know. I have protected you almost from the very start, and I will never falter in it. I might not have told you the truth or let you see all of me, but I have never and will never betray your trust. That always has been and always will be the entire truth of me. I’m yours, Arthur. I said it last night, and I meant it. I’m yours.”
“My white giant.”
“Yes, whatever that means. If you need me to be that, then I am.”
“I’m tired, Merlin.”
“Then sleep. It’s still early.”
“No, I meant I am tired of losing people. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Guinevere or to you, if anything or anyone took you away from me.”
Merlin pressed another kiss onto Arthur’s head and hugged his king close. He felt a bit awful because of it, but to hear Arthur name him together with Guinevere, and them alone, in his desperately honest statement set his heart ablaze with joy. Seeing Arthur stripped bare like this was as wonderous as it was painful, in a bitter-sweet, delicious way, and Merlin knew he would have to help his friend put his metaphorical armour on again before he left this room. It was his job, after all, and Merlin had learned enough of court life to know that Camelot could never be allowed to see her king like that. They might love him all, but they weren’t prepared to witness him be human and vulnerable. Uncle Agravaine might have been a vile scumbag, but his counsel had not always been totally wrong, even if Merlin had always advised the opposite on mere principle. Camelot needed her king to be heroic and strong, if not almost divine. Otherwise, she might just eat him alive.
“Merlin?”
“Yes?” Merlin said, trying to get rid of the disturbing image of the castle nibbling on Arthur like a piece of Yule candy.
“Would you like to move here?”
“Move where?” Didn’t he already live here? Had been living here for more than eight years?
“Here. Into these rooms.”
Merlin looked down again, meeting Arthur’s puppy-dog gaze. “Um … Move in here?”
Arthur nodded.
“With you?”
Arthur swatted at him. Obviously, his squishy, soft, sad, sharing phase had passed without Merlin noticing. “Don’t be ridiculous! You know these aren’t really my chambers anymore. I’m offering them to you. I don’t know yet what your official status will be once I’ve dealt with the whole magic issue, but you can’t live in Gaius’s spare room anymore. You should have moved out long ago anyway, given your change of position.”
“My position as what exactly? And when did it change from what it was before?”
Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Um, how about when you became Royal Chamberlain?”
“I became what?! When?”
“Good grief,” came a sleepy voice from the vicinity of Arthur’s left shoulder blade. “Don’t tell me that Merlin didn’t notice his promotion and that you didn’t officially inform him.”
“Um,” Merlin said at the exact moment that Arthur did the same. Gwen’s rumpled dark head emerged from behind the king, and Merlin had to face her glowering all by himself, as Arthur, the bloody coward, had buried his face in Merlin’s neck again. The queen shook her head incredulously.
“Honestly. How do you two even communicate without me?”
“Inadequately?” Merlin tried, while Arthur made some undecipherable sounds against his shoulder. Gwen looked at them assessingly, and Merlin became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was still clutching Arthur as if he belonged to him. After a moment however, a corner of Gwen’s mouth curled upwards.
“Somehow, you seem to manage with the important bits at least,” she chuckled. “It’s alright, Merlin. Just take the rooms. It won’t keep him from hiding in here anyway.”
And what other choice did Merlin have, but to agree? He did hope, however, that the bed came with the rooms. It was bloody comfortable, all things considered, and he was already getting used to waking up in it. Also, in truth, he knew these chambers better than his own little room, and the thought of calling them home made him quite giddy. And last but not least, surely him being honoured like that should effectively take care of the ludicrous ideas that had taken hold in Gaius’s poor worry-addled mind. All in all, it was a brilliant plan, Merlin decided and nodded his head. Brilliant.
Chapter Ten:
Where Merlin thinks his life is brilliant, and maybe it even is
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen, Arthur/Gwen/Merlin
Rating: R
Summary: It was a silly thing. Just a wine stain on a very white shirt removed by magical means. But now, Arthur knows about the magic, and everything is not quite as Merlin would have expected. Arthur is weirdly vulnerable and brilliant, Gaius is growing distant and mysterious and maybe a little bit insane, and Gwen knows exactly just where she wants her boys to be. Or: The one where Arthur finds out about the magic, is angry about the lies but not at Merlin, and things keep changing. Also, fathers are a difficult thing to have.
Warning: Some intriguing sex (het, slash and threesome). Plotting Gaius is plotting. Goes AU somewhen in the hiatus between S4 and S5.
Disclaimer: The characters and concept of this version of the Arthurian legends belong to Shine and the BBC, not to me. I'm just playing with them.
Author's Note: Reply to this prompt on kinkme_merlin: http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/33344.html?thread=34990656#t34990656
First Chapter:
Teaser: Where Gaius gets an unwelcome surprise and things start to get wonky
Chapter Warning: Disturbing dream images hinting at disturbing real life occurances
Also, excessive use of capitals and itialics.
During the Night
THE WALL WAS ALL AROUND HIM. IT WAS HARD AND COLD AND SEE-THROUGH AND HE COULDN’T BREACH IT, COULD NEVER BREACH IT. HE ALWAYS KNEW THAT. HE ALSO KNEW THAT HE WAS SMALL, AND HE WAS VERY SCARED. HE WASN’T ALLOWED TO BE SCARED, BUT HE STILL WAS.
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALL, THERE WERE PEOPLE, GLITTERING AND SHINY AND HAPPY AND TWIRLING, BUT THEY MADE HIM SAD AND SHIVERY, BECAUSE HE WASN’T OUT THERE WITH THEM. HE WAS BEHIND THE WALL WITH THE THING THAT WAS HARD AND COLD AND SCARED-MAKING, ALMOST LIKE THE WALL, ONLY WORSE. HE PRESSED HIS NOSE AGAINST THE WALL TO BE CLOSER TO THE PRETTY PEOPLE, BUT HE DIDN’T DARE MAKE A SOUND, BECAUSE THEN THE THING WOULD HEAR, AND IT WOULD COME. IT ALWAYS CAME.
THERE WAS A BOOMING NOISE OVER HIS HEAD, AND THEN ANOTHER, AND ANOTHER. HE DUCKED IN FRIGHT AND LOOKED UP, ALTHOUGH HE KNEW HE SHOULDN’T. THERE WERE BIRD-LIKE CREATURES FLYING AGAINST THE WALL WHERE IT ARCHED INTO A WIDE DOME OVER HIS HEAD, AND WHEN THEY HIT IT, THEY BURST APART LIKE OVER-RIPE FRUIT. THEIR BLOOD WAS RUNNING DOWN THE WALL, AND THEY SCREAMED LIKE CHILDREN AS THEY DIED. HE ROLLED HIMSELF INTO A BALL, HIDING HIS HEAD BENEATH HIS ARMS. IT WAS A MISTAKE, BECAUSE THE THING KNEW WHEN HE WAS FRIGHTENED, AND THEN IT CAME, BUT HE COULDN’T HELP IT. HE WAS ONLY SMALL.
LEATHERY TALONS CLOSED AROUND HIS NAPE, PRESSING HIS FACE INTO THE DIRT. A TINY, PLEADING SOUND ESCAPED HIS THROAT, AND HE FLAILED ABOUT WILDLY, BUT THE THING WAS TOO STRONG FOR HIM AND HELD HIM DOWN WITH EASE.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” THE THING HISSED. “COWERING ON THE GROUND, CRAWLING IN THE DIRT LIKE A WORM? ARE YOU A WORM? ARE YOU?”
HE TRIED TO CRY OUT THAT HE WASN’T A WORM AND THAT HE DIDN’T WANT TO BE ONE, BUT THE LEATHERY TALONS TIGHTENED AROUND HIS NECK UND PUSHED HIS FACE DEEPER INTO THE EARTH, DEEPER AND DEEPER WHERE THE WORMS LIVED, HUGE AND SLIMY, SO THAT THEY COULD EAT HIS EYES OUT, AND ALL THE FLAILING AND CRYING IN THE WORLD DIDN’T HELP. THE THING WAS KNEELING ON HIS SHOULDERS NOW, FORCING HIS ENTIRE BODY INTO THE SOIL, AND THE DIRT CRAWLED INTO HIS MOUTH AND HIS NOSE AND HIS EYES, WHILE HE WAS SINKING THROUGH THE EARTH, DEEPER AND DEEPER, AND THE THING CALLED HIM WEAK AND DISGUSTING AND DISGRACEFUL AND LAUGHED AT HIM. AND WITH THE LAUGHTER AND THE DIRT CAME THE WORMS, FILLING HIS MOUTH AND WRIGGLING DOWN HIS THROAT, AND HE KNEW THEY WOULD EAT HIM INSIDE OUT, GUTS AND EYES AND ALL, AND ALTHOUGH HE KNEW HE COULDN’T AND HE KNEW HE SHOULDN’T, HE SCREAMED AND SCREAMED AND SCREAMED FOR IT TO STOP.
“Hush, hush, Arthur, my darling, shhhh, I’m here, we’re both here.”
He clung to the owner of the voice and gulped for air. The dream had left the taste of soil in his mouth, soil and other things he didn’t dare name, and he wanted to get rid of it so badly he started retching, bringing up nothing but air.
“Oh, hush, darling, hush. Oh god, Merlin …”
“Here, let me take him. You won’t be able to hold him much longer, if he goes on like that.”
Stronger arms closed around him, pulling him back against a solid chest. He fought them instinctively and almost panicked when their hold became even tighter, but then a deep, powerful voice said his name, calmly and yet authoritatively. It sounded like safety. He stopped fighting so hard, and the soft-strong hands over his stomach grew warm like sunshine. They were the very opposite of the cool, leathery talons of the thing in his dream, and somehow, that was enough. He burrowed into the body holding him and inhaled the familiar scent of it to eradicate the taste of dirt and other stuff.
“Oh god, Merlin, oh god. What is happening?”, said the other voice, the gentle one. Guinevere. Home. He felt her legs press against his side.
“What did you give him earlier?” asked the calm, powerful voice. Was that Merlin? It had to be Merlin. It smelt like Merlin. But Merlin didn’t hold him, unless he was dying. Was he dying? He didn’t think so. He coughed a bit to get the last of the dirt out, but Merlin’s scent had already helped a lot with that.
“Some … Some of the draught Gaius always uses when one of us has trouble sleeping. There was some left. Was that wrong?” She sounded distressed, and he didn’t like it. He searched for her hand with his, without raising his head from his dark, safe resting place against Merlin’s strong shoulder, and felt her fingers enclose his.
“It wouldn’t be, not normally. It is harmless enough, only some calming herbs, mixed with Gaius’s special recipe. However, I fear it did little good in this case. It might have helped him fall asleep, but it didn’t take away his distress. It just redirected it, causing bad dreams and maybe even preventing him from waking up sooner. I don’t think he is quite aware even now.”
“He can’t be. Otherwise he wouldn’t … oh god, Merlin, he does have nightmares sometimes, but nothing like this.”
“Don’t cry, G’envere.” He had lifted his head from his save place to say it and blinked into the flickering candle-light. There were shadows beyond the bed, but he avoided looking at them, concentrating on Guinevere’s illuminated face and the sorrow in it. “Don’t cry.”
She did anyway, burying her face against his chest and clinging to him.
“Don’t scare us like that again,” powerful-calm Merlin said against his ear. His lips were tickling his skin, and Arthur tilted his head back to look at him. He looked strange like that, his nose as giant as his ears and his cheekbones white and steep like the cliffs in the south. Arthur giggled.
“Oh, now you’re laughing, are you?” Merlin said, but his voice sounded like milk and honey. Or maybe clotted cream. Something soft and sweet anyway. Arthur raised the hand Guinevere was not clutching and traced one of Merlin’s cheekbones with his forefinger.
“My Merlin,” he whispered. “Saved me.”
He saw Merlin smile. His mouth was giant, too, but it looked broken, like glass. “I’ll always save you.”
Arthur nodded. “Even from the worms. And the wall. And the thing.”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. They looked like the sea branding against the cliffs, although they lay above them, like the sky. Arthur giggled again.
“I’ll save you from anything,” Merlin said with his powerful calmness-voice.
“Already did,” Arthur yawned and petted Guinevere’s hair to make her stop crying. He loved her too much to hear her cry. “You’re my giant, Merlin.”
“Your giant?”
Arthur nodded sleepily, his eye-lids slipping close. “My beautiful, white giant. Mine.”
“Yours,” Merlin whispered, and the word followed Arthur into his dreams.
**
Some time after Merlin had left, Gaius had finally managed to force down some bread and cheese and a few gulps of stale water. Then, he went to bed because there was nothing else he could do. Merlin was entirely unwilling to listen to him. Gaius had never seen his boy so angry, and he had to admit that there had been a few moments when he had been almost afraid of Merlin. He should have known accusing Arthur of anything would achieve nothing with the stubborn boy. Merlin would keep on believing what he wanted to believe. Luckily, he seemed to be save enough at the moment; at least Gaius had accomplished something by begging Gwen to interfere. But what was he to do next?
Gaius tossed and turned under his thin blanket (he broke into sweat so easily these days), while he mulled the problem over and over in his mind. What did Arthur want from Merlin? The boy was not wrong when he said that Arthur was usually impulsive rather than calculating, but that didn’t mean the king couldn’t strategize when he wanted to. He was an excellent military commander after all, and that surely hadn’t changed, even if his kind, forgiving heart had. And Merlin, the warlock, was, above all, a weapon. Kilgharrah had always known that and used it, Nimueh had misjudged its potential, Taliesin had honed it, the druids revered it, and many had died by it. Gaius had tried his best to shield Merlin from this cruel fate whenever possible. Quite often, however, he had had no choice but to utilise the weapon himself, for the good of Camelot and a future that might never come to pass now. Because Arthur must have recognized the weapon that was Merlin, too.
Gaius turned on his back, staring at the ceiling and the bundles of drying herbs hanging down from the beams, swaying slightly. They looked like witch-hair. Dawn was already seeping through the shutters, suffusing the room with a dirty-grey half-light. He must have drifted off somewhen during his musings, but now, he was wide awake. Arthur had seen the weapon. And he was first and foremost a soldier. More than that, he was a killer, born and raised. Uther had seen to that, as Gaius had been reminded painfully the evening before. And a bred warrior would never destroy a superb weapon. He would wield it.
Gaius shut his eyes in dismay. Behind his closed eyelids, pyres burned and Merlin was standing next to them with empty eyes. Uther had feared, hated and despised magic in equal measure, but he had never shied away from using it, be it by manipulating the dragonlords to deliver their charges to him or by drawing on Gaius’s own knowledge to bring yet another sorcerer down. Why should his son, the soldier, be any different?
With a start, Gaius forced his old bones out of bed. He couldn’t be idle, although he knew there was nothing immediate to be done. There was no longer an execution to stay, insofar Merlin was most probably right. However, Gaius had to prevent something potentially even more devastating. He shuddered to think what it might do to his gentle boy to be used like that, possibly against practitioners of magic and non-sorcerers alike, against anyone who crossed Arthur in any way. It might even have started already. After all, had the king not always used Merlin in some manner or another? And hadn’t Merlin let him, each and every time, because he couldn’t see straight for all the hope and all the adoration and maybe even for lust? (Gaius had always preferred not knowing, but now he did wonder where the power Arthur held over Merlin truly stemmed from.) Why should it be any different now? After all, Gaius knew all too well how things like this could happen, and his boy was even blinder and more naïve than Gaius himself had been in face off a young, shining king.
Gaius washed hastily, while some revitalizing tea was brewing over the fire. What was he to do? He was so old now, and Arthur had already made clear that he would be barely tolerated in Camelot from now on. How was he supposed to fight this rising young king when Merlin refused to even listen? By all that was holy, it had been a long time since he had felt so utterly powerless. Even while Morgana had had him imprisoned, he had felt like it was in his power to at least die and relieve the young knights of an unnecessary burden. But now?
Gaius sipped his bitter tea and grimaced. He had to face the truth: he was as good as helpless on his own. He needed allies desperately. To save Merlin. To save Camelot. To save the future. Or all might be lost.
**
Merlin felt quite unable to let go of Arthur. He was kind of squished against the headboard, with Arthur resting with his back against Merlin’s chest and Gwen lying halfway atop of Arthur, but he wouldn’t have changed his position for the world, not right now. He felt like he was holding something infinitely precious in his arms, and he wasn’t even ashamed of thinking soppy thoughts like that, and about Arthur, of all people, too. Tentatively, he rested his cheek against Arthur’s blond head. His hair felt soft on Merlin’s skin, kind of like he imagined golden grass would feel like, and the scent of it was so familiar it hurt.
Oh god, who was he even kidding anymore?
Merlin murmured some words into Arthur’s hair which he was sure he would deny even on his deathbed, and tightened his arms a little bit around the king’s torso. Arthur waking up from his nightmare gasping and retching had scared him a lot more than he had (hopefully) let on. It hadn’t felt like he was holding a grown man in his arms, despite Arthur’s solid bulk. His friend hadn’t even fought against his grip like a man, like himself; he had fought like a frightened child, trying to get away from something much stronger and larger than him.
Something trembled inside of Merlin, not from fear, but from pure fury. The urge to p r o t e c t had never been stronger (and that was saying something), even though there was nothing there to smite, nothing to eradicate in order to keep Arthur save. His magic was sizzling in the air, agitated, impatient. It wanted to act, but there was nothing Merlin could do short of invading Arthur’s dreams, and even in the state he was in, he knew better than that. So instead, he had his magic fill the room with calming noises like babbling brooks and tinkling wind chimes, and he held Arthur tight. There was no way, though, that he would get any sleep tonight, he was sure of that, not while his magic and his thoughts and his heart were playing havoc with his poor mind. Merlin was in full protector-mode, and he half feared Arthur might be snatched from his arms at any moment by something dark and sinister and monstrous
SOMETHING THAT WAS LURKING IN THE SHADOWS OF A CAVE THAT KNEW NO LIGHT, A CAVE SO DARK AND DEEP AND OLD IT BREATHED TIME, HE COULD FEEL IT LIKE A DRAGON INHALING AND EXHALING, ONLY IT WAS MUCH, MUCH MORE MALEVOLENT THAN A DRAGON COULD EVER BE.
HE TURNED AROUND, SEARCHING FOR A CLUE WHERE HE WAS. HE FOUND NONE, THOUGH, AND HE WAS ALL ALONE.
“ARTHUR?” HE YELLED. “ARTHUR?!?!”
THE DARKNESS AROUND HIM THREW THE NAME BACK AT HIM AND WHATEVER WAS BREATHING IN IT STARTED TO LAUGH. IT SOUNDED LIKE THE KING, THE OLD KING WHO HAD NEVER DIED. MERLIN SUDDENLY KNEW THAT WITH THE UTMOST CERTAINTY.
“SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING, SORCERER?” THE OLD-KING ASKED, STEPPING OUT OF THE DARKNESS THAT CLUNG TO HIM WITH INKY FINGERS, DRAGGING ARTHUR’S LIMP BODY BEHIND HIM. AT LEAST, MERLIN THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE ARTHUR. IT COULD HAVE BEEN A WOMAN, TOO. OR MAYBE A CHILD.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?” MERLIN WHISPERED.
“I DESTROYED IT!” THE OLD KING HISSED, HIS TEETH LONG AND SHARP. “I WILL DESTROY ALL OF YOU!”
THE OLD KING TOSSED THE BODY AT MERLIN LIKE A BUNDLE OF RAGS. IT LANDED FACE UP AT HIS FEET, AND GAIUS’S DEAD, EMPTY EYES STARED BACK AT HIM.
“NO,” MERLIN RASPED. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
“I BROKE IT,” DEAD GAIUS SAID, AND MERLIN KNELT DOWN NEXT TO HIM. HE TOUGHT HE KNEW THAT DEAD PEOPLE WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO TALK, BUT IT SOMEHOW MADE SENSE THAT GAIUS WOULD.
“WHAT DID YOU BREAK, GAIUS?”
“FAITH,” THE DEAD MAN SIGHED, AND THEN FIRE WAS BURSTING FORTH FROM HIS MOUTH, AND MERLIN THOUGHT HE WOULD FINALLY BURN, BUT THE FIRE WAS COOL LIKE A BREEZE IN SPRING, ENFOLDING HIM WITH THE GENTLENESS OF SOMEONE WHO CARED. MERLIN OPENED HIS EYES, EVEN THOUGH HE HADN’T BEEN AWARE OF CLOSING THEM, AND HE WAS LOOKING INTO ARTHUR’S CALM, SMILING FACE. HIS KING WAS HOLDING HIM, HIS HANDS MEETING BEHIND MERLIN’S SHOULDERBLADES.
“DON’T BE AFRAID,” HE SAID.
“I’M NOT,” MERLIN ASSURED HIM, BECAUSE HOW COULD HE BE, WITH HIS KING SURROUNDING HIM?
ARTHUR’S SMILE DEEPENED. “I’M GLAD,” HE WHISPERED, AND HIS HANDS SANK THROUGH MERLIN’S BACK AND CLOSED AROUND HIS HEART, HOLDING IT SOFTLY AND SO VERY CAREFULLY.
“CAN I KEEP IT?” HE ASKED, AND MERLIN NODDED AND STEPPED BACK, LEAVING HIS HEART IN ARTHUR’S GRASP. IT DIDN’T EVEN HURT.
**
Merlin didn’t wake with a start, but very gradually, only slowly realizing that he had been asleep and dreaming at all. The light that flooded through the undraped window was almost mauve, and he stared at it in wonder. The dream had been disturbing, yes, but it had also been oddly peaceful, like every single thing in it was just as it was supposed to be. These thoughts didn’t make much sense, but he didn’t dwell on it. It was only a dream.
Merlin didn’t tear his gaze away from the mauve morning light that was too beautiful for words until he felt a slight movement on his chest. He looked down and met Arthur’s clear, blue eyes. There was no fear in them, and Merlin smiled. Arthur blinked at him, but he didn’t move his head, his chin digging comfortably into Merlin’s chest.
“I feel like I should ask what you’re doing in my bed, but I dread the answer,” the king said in a very deadpan tone, and Merlin grinned. Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re not trying to guard me from woodworms again, are you?”
Merlin let his grin widen, but he had to force himself to do it. After last night, he didn’t much care for Arthur mentioning worms in any shape or form, even though it seemed like his friend didn’t remember his nightmare or what happened afterwards.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered and quickly ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair. “You have nothing to fear from the woodworms while I’m here.”
“I was not worried, Merlin!”
The protest was so familiar, that Merlin’s grin grew sincere again. His heart was beating warm and fast in his chest, and he felt so alive it was ridiculous. It made him a bit stupid, and before he could really think about it, he bent down and planted a smacking kiss right on Arthur’s forehead. The king stared at him with round eyes, unblinking.
“Oh, good,” he said after a moment in the same deadpan tone as before. “You’ve gone completely mad. Lovely.” Despite his words, however, he made no move to change his position atop of Merlin. All he did was lie his head back down on his manservant’s chest and huff a breath Merlin felt right through his borrowed shirt.
“Aren’t you going to get up?” he asked. “You know, off me?”
“Nope,” Arthur mumbled into his chest. It tickled. “For such a skinny guy, you’re surprisingly comfortable. Also, I can’t get up. My wife is lying on my back.”
So she was, or as good as. Somewhen during the night, Arthur had turned, so he was lying on his front (atop of Merlin, mind), and Gwen had curled up against her husband’s back like a cat, her upper half resting against his left shoulder.
“You would take any excuse not to get up in the morning,” Merlin admonished his king nevertheless, while his hand had resumed petting Arthur’s hair without consulting him. He’d missed this, seeing Arthur all sleep-ruffled and addled-brained. Since the king had taken him to task after his maybe, perchance, possibly a tiny bit overenthusiastic breakfast-serving the morning after the Royal Wedding, Merlin seldom came face to face with a sleepy Arthur anymore. Even if he served the king and queen breakfast in bed, it was a quite formal and dignified affair now (as far as attending two people who were probably entirely naked under the sheets and had most likely just done Dragoon-knows-what with each other could ever be dignified). There was no need to muzzle Arthur with scones and drag him bodily out of bed anymore, that was the point, and Merlin missed it. Full stop. It probably made him weird, but he still did.
“I do remember what happened, you know,” Arthur solemn words jolted him out of his musings. Merlin looked down. Other than pressing slightly (and probably unconsciously) into Merlin’s caressing touch, his king hadn’t moved. Even his eyes were still closed, but there was no mistaking the words Merlin had heard.
“I didn’t think you wouldn’t,” he replied hastily. “I’m glad you do, actually. Imagine me having to explain the whole magic thing again! I probably wouldn’t survive it.”
“And everyone would blame me for your sudden, inexplicable death. I can already see Gwaine giving me the evil eye. You know the one? Where I think I must have killed his favourite puppy in a former life?”
“You’re ridiculous. Gwaine holds you in great esteem.”
“But he adores you, you dolt. They all do. Even Leon adores you. He used to adore me!”
“Don’t be a dollop-head. Leon still adores you. Like crazy. I’m certain he would let you play with all his weapons, if you only asked.”
That, finally, made Arthur raise his head and gape at Merlin who was blinking at him with his best innocent “who, me?” expression.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” Arthur sputtered, and Merlin was treated to the rare sight of a bright blush creeping up the king’s cheeks. He stared at it in silent wonder for a few heartbeats, but when it dawned on him what it meant, he couldn’t hold back an incredulous guffaw.
“No! No, you didn’t!”
The blush grew even brighter.
“No!” Merlin exclaimed again. “Really?! Leon? You and Leon …” Sadly, Arthur’s hand over his mouth stifled any further exclamation of amazement, but Merlin still couldn’t keep in his laughter, muffled though it was.
“Shut up, Merlin, you idiot!” the king hissed. “How can you even …” He darted a glance backwards, but Gwen was sleeping on peacefully. He blew out a sigh of relief, but still looked incredibly flustered.
“Shut up,” he said again, although Merlin was valiantly working on supressing his giggles. “It was a long time ago anyway, before you even came here, and it is none of your business, understood?”
Merlin nodded, but he could feel his eyes sparkling above Arthur’s hand. This was truly priceless. It also stung a bit, learning after all this time that Arthur wasn’t all averse to manly charms, but mostly, it was hilarious, and Merlin wanted to ask so many questions, like when and what and how and why and possibly even where?
Any urge for indiscrete inquiries was smothered most effectively, though, when Arthur buried his face against Merlin’s neck and let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a quiet sob.
“Arthur?” Merlin said hesitantly, cradling the king’s head with both his hands. God, what had he done now? He really was an idiot.
“It’s not your fault,” Arthur mumbled against his neck. “But, god, every time I think there is nothing left of me for you to take, you find something else.”
“Um …”
“After last night … Good grief, you’ve truly seen all of me, haven’t you, Merlin? That’s what I meant when I said I remembered. What you saw last night, me and my nightmares and my fear and my weakness, and there I thought that there was nothing left of me to uncover, Merlin, nothing that isn’t yours. I’m naked when you look at me, Merlin, all the time. And how, how, how can you see and not turn away? How?”
“I’ll never have seen enough, Arthur, never,” Merlin rasped. His heart felt like thorns in his chest, and he wanted to obliterate anyone who had contributed to Arthur feeling like this, possibly including himself. “And I will keep every bit, every single piece and shard and splinter of you that I discover safe. Do you hear me?” He grabbed Arthur’s hair softly and shook him a bit. “Do you hear me?”
Arthur nodded. His arms closed around Merlin and he was clutching him like a child would a treasured toy. Merlin started stroking his hair again.
“I mean it, you know. I have protected you almost from the very start, and I will never falter in it. I might not have told you the truth or let you see all of me, but I have never and will never betray your trust. That always has been and always will be the entire truth of me. I’m yours, Arthur. I said it last night, and I meant it. I’m yours.”
“My white giant.”
“Yes, whatever that means. If you need me to be that, then I am.”
“I’m tired, Merlin.”
“Then sleep. It’s still early.”
“No, I meant I am tired of losing people. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Guinevere or to you, if anything or anyone took you away from me.”
Merlin pressed another kiss onto Arthur’s head and hugged his king close. He felt a bit awful because of it, but to hear Arthur name him together with Guinevere, and them alone, in his desperately honest statement set his heart ablaze with joy. Seeing Arthur stripped bare like this was as wonderous as it was painful, in a bitter-sweet, delicious way, and Merlin knew he would have to help his friend put his metaphorical armour on again before he left this room. It was his job, after all, and Merlin had learned enough of court life to know that Camelot could never be allowed to see her king like that. They might love him all, but they weren’t prepared to witness him be human and vulnerable. Uncle Agravaine might have been a vile scumbag, but his counsel had not always been totally wrong, even if Merlin had always advised the opposite on mere principle. Camelot needed her king to be heroic and strong, if not almost divine. Otherwise, she might just eat him alive.
“Merlin?”
“Yes?” Merlin said, trying to get rid of the disturbing image of the castle nibbling on Arthur like a piece of Yule candy.
“Would you like to move here?”
“Move where?” Didn’t he already live here? Had been living here for more than eight years?
“Here. Into these rooms.”
Merlin looked down again, meeting Arthur’s puppy-dog gaze. “Um … Move in here?”
Arthur nodded.
“With you?”
Arthur swatted at him. Obviously, his squishy, soft, sad, sharing phase had passed without Merlin noticing. “Don’t be ridiculous! You know these aren’t really my chambers anymore. I’m offering them to you. I don’t know yet what your official status will be once I’ve dealt with the whole magic issue, but you can’t live in Gaius’s spare room anymore. You should have moved out long ago anyway, given your change of position.”
“My position as what exactly? And when did it change from what it was before?”
Arthur’s brow furrowed. “Um, how about when you became Royal Chamberlain?”
“I became what?! When?”
“Good grief,” came a sleepy voice from the vicinity of Arthur’s left shoulder blade. “Don’t tell me that Merlin didn’t notice his promotion and that you didn’t officially inform him.”
“Um,” Merlin said at the exact moment that Arthur did the same. Gwen’s rumpled dark head emerged from behind the king, and Merlin had to face her glowering all by himself, as Arthur, the bloody coward, had buried his face in Merlin’s neck again. The queen shook her head incredulously.
“Honestly. How do you two even communicate without me?”
“Inadequately?” Merlin tried, while Arthur made some undecipherable sounds against his shoulder. Gwen looked at them assessingly, and Merlin became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was still clutching Arthur as if he belonged to him. After a moment however, a corner of Gwen’s mouth curled upwards.
“Somehow, you seem to manage with the important bits at least,” she chuckled. “It’s alright, Merlin. Just take the rooms. It won’t keep him from hiding in here anyway.”
And what other choice did Merlin have, but to agree? He did hope, however, that the bed came with the rooms. It was bloody comfortable, all things considered, and he was already getting used to waking up in it. Also, in truth, he knew these chambers better than his own little room, and the thought of calling them home made him quite giddy. And last but not least, surely him being honoured like that should effectively take care of the ludicrous ideas that had taken hold in Gaius’s poor worry-addled mind. All in all, it was a brilliant plan, Merlin decided and nodded his head. Brilliant.
Chapter Ten:
Where Merlin thinks his life is brilliant, and maybe it even is