Fic: Silk and Light, [2/3]

[jade_dragoness]

Title: Silk and Light, [2/3]
Author: J.D. aka jade_dragoness
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG-13 for this part
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Spoilers: Series 1
Summary: Merlin is discovered as a sorcerer and faces the death sentence.
Word Count: 4,140, for this part
Disclaimer: Never ever will be mine. *sadness*
A/N: Yet another Merlin is outed as a sorcerer fic. But one with my own take on it. Um, so I lied, it’s going to be a total of 3 parts. Ooops. Also, I’ve cruelly abused Old English, so just a warning for those who are sensitive about that sort of thing. Feedback is hugely welcomed.

Thanks so much to neptuneskisses and x_bellaitalia_x for the awesome beta job.
*-*-*-*
Part 1
*-*-*-*

Arthur stalked through the corridors of Camelot heading for the cells. His determination created an aura of danger about him that made any lingering eyes look away, in case it drew down his wrath upon them.

He walked past the guards at the entrance of the dungeon cells without stopping or slowing down. They didn’t dare protest. If anything, they straightened up at the sight of their commander in his armor with his sword sheathed at his side, reminding them of their lower status as clearly as a crown upon Arthur’s head.

Arthur entered Merlin’s cell with one of the keys from the ring he carried at his hip. Merlin’s head rose at the sound of metal on metal. He could see Merlin’s blue eyes widen as he took in Arthur, resplendent in plate and mail. He walked into the cell, making sure to close the door behind him, and double checking that the guards had remained at their posts. They hadn’t moved. Good.

“Where‘s the book?” asked Merlin, as he stood.

“Shhh,” Arthur hissed. He pulled back the cape, letting Merlin glimpse the edge of the book strapped to his back. Merlin made a low pleased sound and reached for it. Arthur stood still as Merlin pulled it free from the harness Gwen had made with the leather straps.

“How did you do that?” Merlin asked, in amazement. He began undoing the straps to free the book from Arthur’s back.

“Guinevere and Morgana,” admitted Arthur. “Did you know your friend has a secret side as a smuggler?”

“Gwen’s a what?” said Merlin, outrage making his voice loud.

Arthur clamped his hands over Merlin’s mouth. He instantly regretted the leather gauntlets that kept him from feeling the heat and shape of Merlin’s mouth under his palm.

Merlin’s eyes glared hotly at Arthur, the book cradled in his arms was the only thing that kept him from shoving Arthur away.

Arthur rolled his eyes at him. “Do you think you can focus?” he hissed. He slowly pulled his hand back from Merlin’s mouth to reveal a fierce scowl. “You have the book. Find the spell you need.”

Merlin gave him a narrow suspicious look, before sitting down onto the thickest clump of straw, opening the book and flipping through the pages. Arthur watched him slow down, then start reading the book with careful concentration. Merlin’s brow furrowed and his fingers traced the pages for a moment before flipping over to the next page, clearly not finding what he wanted.

Arthur went back to the door to double check the guards. If they were discovered with the book, Arthur would find himself thrown into a cell or even locked into his rooms until his father was satisfied that he’d learned his lesson. Which wouldn’t end until long after Merlin had been executed.

He noted that they were still guarding the entrance to the dungeon, then Arthur walked back to Merlin. Yet he didn’t relax, he was feeling too tense, and too full of energy to simply stand still.

He started pacing.

“Arthur, you‘re making me anxious,” said Merlin.

Arthur stopped and glared down at him. There was a hint of a smile to Merlin’s face, obviously remembering the last time those words were passed between them.

“Have you found it yet?” asked Arthur, rolling his eyes.

Merlin’s eye flickered down to his book, the smile still on his face, but he nodded.

Arthur slowly let out a breath, some of the tension going with it. He joined Merlin on the floor. Merlin didn’t say anything for a moment, just leaned against Arthur’s side. Arthur had to resist the need to wrap an arm around him. It wouldn’t be comfortable for Merlin with Arthur wearing his plate. He did lean back though, allowing himself and Merlin that comfort while wishing he hadn’t needed to wear to armor to sneak in the book.

“I actually found two spells that I could use,” Merlin explained. His fingers tapped the page, before flipping over to another section of the book. Arthur looked over, seeing odd writing that was nonsense to his eyes. “The first one will get me out of Camelot, maybe as far away as Ealdor. But-”

“But-?” Arthur asked.

Merlin bit his lower lip, his eyes anguished. “I wouldn‘t be able to come back to Camelot again.”

Arthur’s breath caught. The idea of that was nearly as horrible as Merlin being executed. Almost. He could live with it if Arthur knew that Merlin lived. He said, “If that‘s the only option-”

“Well, there‘s the second spell,” Merlin continued. “It would take more concentration. It shouldn‘t harm anyone. I think it should be one that will-”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted. “Stop babbling. What’s the spell?”

“The spell is a memory spell. It would block the memories of everyone so they wouldn‘t remember seeing me do magic,” he finally explained.

Arthur was impressed. Something that would hit so many people all at once? He hadn’t even heard of such a thing before. Even the Afanc that had poisoned the water hadn’t affected everyone at once, it had taken time to affect all its victims. Even the unicorn‘s curse had only affected crops, then the water, and not the people. It made him wonder exactly how much power it would take, and if Merlin could pull it off.

“Can you do it?” he asked. This was the best solution in Arthur’s opinion. It would be the one that would keep Merlin in Camelot.

“Yes, I think so,” said Merlin. “I need to study the spell to be certain.”

“Very well,” Arthur said. “That will be the first thing you try. If it doesn‘t work-” Arthur swallowed with a hollow feeling in his gut, “-if it doesn’t work use the other spell in order to get away.”

Merlin nodded in agreement and bent his head over the book.

As Merlin focused on his task, Arthur tried to think of what he’d need to do if Merlin’s magic failed him. Merlin would need provisions, weapons, or maybe even a horse, if Arthur could sneak one away from the stables. He’d need wealth. Money would be the only thing that would allow Merlin to cross the boundaries of kingdoms, to bribe guards, to pay for lodgings and food. Merlin wouldn’t be able to stay in Ealdor. His father knew where Merlin had come from. Arthur wasn’t certain if knowing that Ealdor was in another kingdom would keep Uther from striking at the village in revenge for having raised a sorcerer. If it had been a situation that hadn’t involved magic then Arthur would have been confident in saying no. His father would not risk war. Since it did involve magic - well, the possibility of war was the most likely outcome. Arthur would have to do anything he could to minimize that situation. Not only for Merlin’s sake, but also for Camelot and the blood of its people that would be shed in such unnecessary war.

He wondered if he could get Morgana to lend her voice to such protests. Arthur could say this for his foster sister - she was impossible to ignore when she was determined to voice her opinions. He would rather have her at his side in such an argument than clashing against him.

“Arthur, I don‘t think I can do this,” Merlin said, throwing Arthur out of his mental plans.

Arthur gave him a frustrated look. “You just said you could.”

Merlin’s expression was grave. “I can do it. But-”

“But what?” Arthur asked, exasperated. It was well into the night, dawn was only a couple of hours away and they were quickly running out of time.

“I have a lot of power, but my control isn‘t that great yet. I wouldn‘t be able to target the memory spell to specific individuals. It‘ll hit everyone in the castle.”

Arthur frowned in puzzlement as to why this would be a concern but then realization dawned. He said quietly, “Even me.”

Merlin nodded and dropped his head to stare at the page in his hands.

Arthur looked at him for a moment before saying quietly, “Merlin. Do you honestly think that I would rather keep my memory than have you remain alive? The king, my father, is going to have your head chopped off in the morning. He’s probably already informed the executioner to begin the preparations.”

Merlin flinched.

“You will do this spell,” ordered Arthur.

“I don‘t want you to forget,” admitted Merlin. He blushed, “I don‘t want you to forget… us,” he waved at the wall Arthur had pressed him up against, where he had kissed him, and made him come nearly hard enough to pass out.

“I don‘t want to forget either,” admitted Arthur, after a moment. “That‘s why you‘ll have to tell me.” Arthur knelt by Merlin’s side, the straw cushioning his knees against the stone floor. “Your memory will remain intact, right?”

Merlin nodded, “Yes. I‘m pretty certain that it wouldn‘t affect me.”

“Then, you‘ll have to tell me,” Arthur said. “Don‘t let me remain a coward.”

“You‘re not a coward!” denied Merlin hotly.

Arthur felt a warmth in his gut at the passion in Merlin’s voice, feeling both proud and humbled by his loyalty. “The way that I feel about you. It didn‘t just spring into life today,” Arthur said, he looked off to the side, feeling embarrassed at the admission. “I‘ve been feeling this way for a while now. I just haven‘t been able to face it. I‘m a prince! And you‘re… well… you‘re you. I‘ve just been refusing to even acknowledge it to myself.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered back to see how Merlin took this. Merlin just looked stunned.

Arthur was amused. Sarcastically he asked, “What? You thought I just had a fetish for prison cells?”

“Well no, not exactly,” said Merlin, his cheeks turning pink. His eyes flickered over to the wall and back to Arthur. The color of his cheeks deepened into wine red.

Arthur snorted and smacked the back of Merlin’s head. Arthur knew exactly what perverted thoughts he was thinking.

“Well, think of it this way. If you don‘t tell me, it will never happen again,” Arthur said dryly, and a trifle smugly.

Merlin’s eyes widened and he nodded in frantic agreement. Arthur laughed, low and warm, and caught Merlin’s head by the chin to kiss him just one more time. He would not remember this, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t cherish it while the memory of it remained.

Merlin pulled him closer, and Arthur balanced carefully so as to not fall upon him while fully armored. And he wished yet again that the hauberk and plate hadn’t been necessary. It would take too much effort for Merlin to remove them from his body. The noise that it would make would draw down the guards for certain.

Then all their planning and efforts to save Merlin’s life would be for naught.

But for now, he focused on the warm wet feel of Merlin’s mouth. He licked Merlin’s slick teeth with barely restrained passion. Merlin moaned, the vibrations catching in Arthur’s throat. Merlin’s tongue slipped brazenly into Arthur’s mouth. The firm feel made Arthur’s eyes close simply to savor the heat of him, the live feel of Merlin so intimately against him, in him, and deeply wished that they had more time.

Reluctantly, Arthur pushed Merlin away. He grabbed the book where it had been resting near Merlin’s feet and handed it to him.

“Use the spell,” Arthur ordered.

Arthur watched Merlin take in a deep breath. Then his expression firmed in determination. Merlin started chanting, “ingemynd béon nánuht ac sídan ac léohtfæt. sceadwiau ingemynd of þes nihtbealu.”

Arthur braced himself, even though he knew such an action was useless. He was unable to stop himself from reacting after a life-time of facing magic as a foe. Even knowing Merlin meant him no harm, the feel of power building up as a low buzz against his skin was unnerving.

Nothing happened.

Arthur arched his eyebrows at Merlin, who flushed. Merlin admitted, “Sometimes it takes a little practicing before I get a spell to work right.”

“Some big scary sorcerer you turned out to be,” Arthur said sarcastically. “Why am I not surprised you‘re as terrible at being a sorcerer as you are being a servant.” Arthur straightened abruptly, “Wait! Then how did you manage to get the spell to save me from the sorcerer right? He didn‘t exactly give you a chance to practice.”

“Luck?” said Merlin, he scratched at his head and peeked at Arthur through the dark fringe of his hair.

Arthur stared back. “Luck? You risked my life on luck?” he asked, outraged.

“My life too,” Merlin reminded him. Merlin had been the one standing between the sorcerer and Arthur when the spell had been cast.

“Right,” sighed Arthur. “Try again.” He grumbled under his breath about moronic sorcerers.

Merlin nodded and the words rolled over them again, and again and again.

Until his blue eyes flashed bright and golden and then everything in Arthur’s world went white before fading to black.
*-*-*-*

Arthur groaned and covered his face with his forearm. However even that slight shift made everything hurt more.

He felt like the one and only time he’d been foolish enough to get too close enough to a blood maddened warhorse, receiving a kick to his chest. It had been a glancing blow, but it had left him hurting for days. This had the same deep ache to it. The only difference was that the pain was right inside his head and in every muscle in his body.

Arthur lay on his back. The softness at his back and the familiar scent in the air clued him in that he was in his own rooms. He considered the benefits of actually opening his eyes for a long moment.

Finally, he slowly cracked his eyes open, which made him deeply regret trying. Cursing, he clamped his eyes shut. The light had felt like a flaming lance, right into his brain, making the pain double in intensity.

“You‘re awake!”

“That‘s blatantly obvious,” gritted Arthur. Merlin’s voice actually made the pain worse. “Oh god, do shut up,” he moaned softly, not even managing to sharpen an edge to his voice. He pulled the covers over his head and huddled his head against his pillows, so Merlin’s whispered apology didn’t make his head scream.

Merlin left him alone, doing something, no doubt incompetently around Arthur’s room. Not that Arthur could bring himself to care. Merlin could have set the bed on fire and Arthur would not have moved.

Arthur tried to force his thoughts into some form of coherency. What had happened last night? Everything was a blank right up until-

“Sorcerer!” he shouted, sitting up abruptly. Arthur’s head instantly started pounding with greater intensity. His head throbbed and threatened to burst apart like a rotten fruit. It took all his self control not to whimper pathetically. The prince of Camelot did not whimper. Even when he really, really wanted to.

Merlin dropped something off to Arthur’s side. High-pitched, he asked, “What?”

“Not here,” groaned Arthur, he pressed his hands to his face. “Last night. There was a sorcerer. He attacked the court.”

“Oh, that sorcerer.”

“Yes. That sorcerer,” Arthur glared blearily in Merlin’s general direction - there seemed to be more than one of him. That was rather terrifying. “Exactly how many sorcerers do you think there are Camelot?”

“Um-”

“Forget it,” Arthur shoved himself up. “I need to get dressed, I need to see my father.”

Arthur’s legs were rather weak and shaky but he forced himself to stand straight. Through sheer will-power he remained upright, but he could not stop the swaying.

Merlin’s hands hovered at his side, but Arthur batted them away. He wasn‘t going to fall over! He just needed a moment to catch his breath. He noticed absently that he was still wearing the clothes he’d worn at the banquet instead of his sleep clothes.

“What happened last night?” Arthur asked, after a moment, as the room stopped tilting back and forth and the double Merlins fused into one. Much better.

Merlin said slowly, as if testing how the words sounded in his head before he said them out loud, “The entire castle was knocked unconscious by magic.”

“I figured that out,” snapped Arthur. He winced and put his hand back to his head.

“Some of us woke up sooner,” continued Merlin, as if Arthur hadn’t said a word. “So, we moved everyone to their rooms where they‘d be more comfortable.”

“And you couldn‘t put me in my sleep clothes?”

Merlin's cheeks turned red. “Not while you were unconscious!” he yelped.

Arthur shot him a bemused and puzzled look. “Why not? You‘ve done it before.”

Merlin just shook his head, turning a brighter shade of red.

“Alright,” Arthur said slowly, his head aching too much to try to make sense of Merlin’s convoluted thought processes.

“Get me a new set of clothes. I can‘t see my father wearing these,” Arthur ordered.
*-*-*-*

The next few days went by quickly. Arthur spent them riding out to trying to track down any trail of the sorcerer who’d knocked out the entire court, no matter how nebulous it seemed.

Uther had been furious that the sorcerer had escaped. After the shouting tapered off, he’d then ordered Arthur and every single knight that could be spared from protecting Camelot out to the countryside and outlaying villages, to see if there was anyone who knew the sorcerer and where he could be found. Yet no matter how intently Arthur questioned innkeepers and village leaders nothing turned up. Arthur had even sent messengers with descriptions of the sorcerer to their allies to try to flush out any hint of where he could have gone to ground.

Only to turn up nothing.

It got to the point that his frustration with the task made Arthur so surly that his own knights began keeping a respectful distance, close enough to still provide protection to their prince but far enough away to avoid getting hit by the fallout of his slowly deepening bad humor.

Every time Arthur returned to Camelot to re-supply and report on his findings, or lack of findings in all honesty, his temper would only grow worse. His father’s commentary on Arthur’s search was becoming unbearable, until the only measure of relief Arthur was able to get was in the sanctuary of his own chambers.

That is, until he realized that Merlin was acting strange, well, stranger than usual. Merlin was always strange. Arthur found himself growing increasingly bewildered by the looks Merlin kept giving him. Merlin, already the worst servant Arthur had ever had, seemed to be trying to reach new and unparalleled lows in service.

Also, he kept noticing Merlin looking at him with a fascination that kept catching Arthur off-guard. He was used to Merlin shooting him glares, mockingly servile agreeable nods, and sarcastic smirks. Now, Merlin was looking at him like Arthur was an amazing and wonderful person. The sort of look that Arthur was accustomed in seeing on the faces of others, but never, ever an expression he’d seen on Merlin, well, outside of a tournament match.

It made his heart race just thinking of it.

It wasn’t until the fifth trip back from looking for the sorcerer that Arthur was finally able to convince his father that the sorcerer had to have slipped beyond Camelot’s reach, because no trace of him could be found within its borders or those of their allies.

It had been an exhausting search, and all Arthur wanted was a hot bath and a full meal.

Upon reaching his chambers, Arthur noticed that Merlin was nowhere to be found. Arthur wasn‘t exactly surprised, though he was irritated at the inconvenience. With him spending so much time out of Camelot, Gaius had been using Merlin to run errands. While the sorcerer’s spell had fortunately caused no fatalities, people had fallen where they’d been standing since it had hit them without warning. There were quite a few injuries as a result, broken bones, bruises, and the worst injury was a cook who’d fallen too close to a fire and developed burns to the point of blistering along half her body. Arthur knew this because Gaius had delivered his report to the king when requesting funds for more pain-killing ingredients at a time that Arthur had been in attendance. The list of wounded had made Arthur grateful that he’d gotten away only with a sore head and a minor split lip.

Merlin was probably spending his time helping deliver potions, poultices, or gathering any plants that Gaius would need to treat his patients.

Arthur was too tired to go about tracking down his manservant, especially since Arthur couldn’t even be certain Merlin was still within the castle walls, so he ordered another servant to bring him food and get a bath ready for him.

As he waited, Arthur pondered the possibility of ordering Merlin to be placed in the stocks for the next week, if only because doing so would be entertaining and Arthur could use the laugh. A good servant would have been waiting for his master’s return, ready to leap into action at any possible order. Merlin should have been waiting for him.

He wasn’t sulking.

Arthur pondered the mental image of Merlin leaping to obey any of his orders without some sort of insolent commentary and snorted in amusement. While an entertaining thought, it was pure fantasy. As if Merlin could ever learn to be servile.

But then, his service skills weren’t why Arthur kept Merlin around. For all that he called Merlin the worst servant he’d ever had, Arthur was also certain that he was the best company. There was a reason that he dragged Merlin along with him on his hunts, and it was simply that Arthur enjoyed everything a lot more when Merlin was there with him. Even if he was complaining every step of the way and made hunting rabbits as difficult a task as hunting wild boar.

Arthur shook those thoughts from his head and then struggled to get out of his jacket. His muscles ached from riding all day, for too many days in a row. Arthur swore as the ties of his breeches knotted. He grabbed his nearby food knife and cut through the gnarled mess, too impatient to try to pick it apart. He stank of horse and road dust, and he could not tolerate it another moment longer.

“What are you doing?”

Arthur jerked around at Merlin’s voice. Only his long cultivated awareness of the danger posed by a blade kept him from cutting himself. As it was he got a little too close to slicing himself.

It didn’t stop him from swearing at Merlin.

“Damn it! For the last time, learn to knock!” Arthur glared. He had to resist the urge to fling his knife at Merlin‘s head.

Merlin’s eyes went wide as he saw the knife and the mutilated state of Arthur’s breeches.

He moved rapidly to Arthur, his hands reaching out, fingers working nimbly to get Arthur free of his clothes. Arthur jerked again before stilling. Merlin’s eyes looked at what he was doing, neatly avoiding Arthur’s gaze. Yet Merlin’s cheeks started pinking up, and Arthur’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

It had been months since Merlin had last become embarrassed at having to undress him. If fact, Merlin had succeeded in getting over his embarrassment in less than a week, something that had irritated Arthur at the time because he‘d enjoyed making Merlin stumble and turn beet red. It baffled Arthur to see Merlin blushing for no apparent reason.

It wasn’t like Merlin had caught Arthur enjoying the attentions of a chambermaid, or an agreeable lady.

Arthur added this to the list of peculiar ways Merlin was acting.

His breath suddenly caught in his throat at the feel of Merlin’s fingertips leaving warm trails across his stomach. His heart started beating fast again. Merlin was caressing his skin. There was no mistake.

Arthur froze.

His mind went blank and he stared down at Merlin with wide eyes.

Merlin didn’t seem to realize what he was doing.

God. Merlin.

“Merlin,” he croaked. His stomach muscles were tightening. It was all he could do not to start panting.

Blue eyes jerked to Arthur and he could see the exact moment Merlin realized what he was doing.

“Oh god, I‘m sorry! I didn‘t mean-”

“Wait-” but Merlin was already backing away and out the door.

Leaving Arthur, alone with his breeches unlaced and slipping down his thighs. His skin felt cold, apart from where Merlin’s fingers had left trails of heat.

What the hell had just happened?

*-*-*-*

TBC Part 3

Old English Words translate to:
[Memories are naught but silk and light.
Cover in shadow those of this night.]

But I’m certain I massacred the language.