Somewhere Only We Know

[lady_krystal_79]

Title: Somewhere Only We Know
Author: Lady_Krystal
Rating: PG
Warnings: None - nothing but kisses here.
Disclaimer: I don't own them; just borrow them and put them back (mostly) unharmed.
Summary: Modern AU. A distraught Arthur gets stranded in the countryside after the death of his father. Things get interesting from there...

I walked across an empty land.
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand.
I felt the earth beneath my feet,
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Arthur had been driving for hours and he was lost. This fact did not worry him. He had been desperate to get away, to leave behind the half-hearted sorry’s and patently false he’ll be missed’s. Arthur had no illusions about his father; he had been a hard man, cold and calculating and brilliant. And Arthur had loved him. Now he was gone and everyone had assumed he would want to take his place at the company helm, had speculated how easily he could be manipulated or gotten rid of. All Arthur had wanted was to breathe.

The car sputtered and coughed before the engine died completely. Arthur looked down in surprise. He should have had more petrol than that, but the indicator was sitting firmly on empty. Arthur managed to roll to the side of the road, out of the way of traffic, and then pulled the hand break. There was silence. He liked it.

Climbing out of the vehicle, Arthur looked around. There was nothing as far as he could see but rolling hills and fields. In the distance he could see the cliff face of a low mountain range. There was no sign of civilisation; no homes, no fences, no livestock. It was a land empty of human habitation. He tried to remember when he had last seen a house, or shop, or anywhere he might be able to contact the outside world. His phone was on the table in his apartment, where he had left it vibrating with false tidings.

Arthur wandered a little down the roadside, wondering if he should go back or press forward. The sun was warm on his shoulders, and he stopped to look out across the countryside once more. That was when he saw it; a pathway that he had somehow missed the first time. It was well overgrown, but there was a tingle of recognition dancing at the back of his memory, like he knew this path, had walked it many times before. He knew it was stupid, he knew he was likely to get lost or injured, but he still took that first step onto the faint outline of the course he was taking.

The further he walked, the more he seemed to ‘know’. He knew that just beyond this hill it curved, that that dip was deeper than it appeared and could cause an unwary rider to fall... Arthur shook his head. He had never ridden a horse in his life! What strange thoughts were these? And yet...they did not feel strange. They felt familiar, they felt like his own.

A moment after he knew he would, he came across the river. Stream, he corrected in his mind, but it didn’t seem right. Looking at the height of the banks, Arthur could tell that this once had been a river, and he seemed to remember how treacherous it could be when it flowed fast after the winter thaw, or how refreshing it had been to paddle out into it during the long, hot days of summer. Arthur felt a little dizzy, so he took off his shoes and put his feet into the water. Digging his toes into the silt felt good, like he was connected to the ground once more. The dizziness subsided and Arthur relaxed.

This was exactly what he had needed. To be free of his father’s corporate world. To take time out and just be himself. Still, he felt something - no, someone - was missing. His mind supplied him with a picture of a dark haired boy with wild blue eyes and an infectious smile. He heard the youth laughing in his head.

“Relax, you prat. Our time will come soon enough.” So Arthur did, closing his eyes and laying back on the grassy bank, and he felt whole.

I came across a fallen tree.
I felt the branches of it looking at me.
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

When he woke from his nap, Arthur felt more refreshed than he had in a long time. Perhaps more than ever. The sun was sliding lower over the hilltops, and he reluctantly put his shoes back on. He left the river behind - this time he didn’t correct himself - and continued down the faint track. It wasn’t much further, though the rushing of the water could no longer be heard, before he came to a tree fallen across the path. There weren’t many trees around, but a few dotted the countryside. Something about that seemed wrong. A vision of a dense and extensive forest flashed across his mind. Like the river, he knew that the forest had been real, and it had stood here. How many generations, he wondered, has it taken to reduce it down to these empty fields?

He sat down on the tree, dizzy again, but this time it did not let up. He felt that someone was watching him, and he turned his head, but there was nothing but the bare branches of the tree. They seemed, to him, to be waiting for something expectantly. “I don’t know what you think I’m going to do about it. I’m not replanting the whole damn forest! It wouldn’t help you anyway. You’ve already fallen.” Arthur wondered if there was something seriously wrong with him. He was talking to a dead tree.

“They used to speak to me, once long ago.” It was the smiling youth from before, only he wasn’t quite so young as all that. He was perhaps a year or two younger than Arthur. But at 26, he wasn’t all that old himself. Certainly too young to be talking to dead trees and conjuring up big-eared boys who thought they talked back.

“I must be losing my mind.” Arthur surmised to himself, oddly unconcerned by this turn of events.

“No, just regaining it.” His new companion replied and sat down beside him. He felt real enough when he bumped his shoulder against Arthur’s. “I am real.”

“Are you reading my thoughts?” Arthur asked. He wondered why that question didn’t seem strange to him at all.

“Well, you always were dreadful at sharing them.” But he smiled again to take the sting out of the words. Arthur felt his own lips curve in response.

“I know you, don’t I?” It was like the name, and everything else, was just outside of his grasp.

“You did. We used to ride these woods together, You used to drag me along when you went hunting and try to leave me behind when you rode to war.” As he spoke, Arthur could hear their voices, raised to bicker and bursting into laughter, like an echo that remained on the wind long after the event had passed. He could hear the clinking of armour and the snorting of nervous horses picking up the mood of their riders. Arthur shook his head, the dizziness becoming a loud buzzing in his ears, yet he could still hear the other man talking. “Don’t fight it. I can’t take you there until you let it in.”

“It was really here, then? I wasn’t just imagining it?”

Low laughter met his question. “Be honest with yourself, Arthur. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen these things, is it?”

Arthur looked up into patient blue eyes. Was that gold flecking them? Another memory tugged, but he couldn’t grab it long enough to see it. “The dreams? They were real?”

“Of course they were. Who you were then is stronger than anything you have ever been since. But it’s time to come home, Arthur, once and for all.”

Nausea welled in Arthur’s stomach. His head was splitting, the world was spinning, he couldn’t draw enough air with his panting breaths. The blackness was beginning to crowd in at the corners of his consciousness. There was suddenly a warm, soothing hand upon his neck, stroking up into the longer strands of hair upon his neck. The world stopped spinning. He could breathe. “What’s happening?” There was no fear in his voice, for he felt strangely at peace, but he wanted to understand.

“I’m sorry.” His companion told him with real regret in his voice. “I didn’t realise it was affecting you quite so strongly. It is just your memories, of a different lifetime, trying to return home. You must let them in.”

“How?”

“Open your mind.” Seeing Arthur’s confusion, he offered, “I can help...”

“Please...” There was no more to his request, for it was like a door had been flung open and the memories flooded in, a lifetime trying to all come in at once. Arthur screamed and passed out.

Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.
So tell me when you're gonna’ let me in.
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

Arthur woke up. The sky was still blue, but it was taking on a darker hue. Looking around, he could see the shadows approaching; the sun long since fallen behind the mountains this time. He wondered idly how far away the car was. If he spent the night out in the open, there was a very good chance he would catch pneumonia, or hypothermia, or die. Then he realised that he was lying against something warm, something human.

“Merlin.” The name came naturally to his lips, and the body behind him jolted.

The voice, when it came, was calm. “You remember.”

Remember what? And then he realised. All those memories, clamouring to come in, were now simply there. “I remember”, he answered, and then, “This complicates matters considerably.”

“Arthur...”

“Yes, that’s just it. When you say Arthur, you mean one thing, but to everybody else, I’m something else.” He sighed, remembering the calculating looks of his father’s Board of Directors. “They see a youth and I’m, what? A couple of millenniums old?”

“Not quite.” Merlin replied dryly.”Besides, you won’t be going back to that life.”

“I...” Arthur gaped and sat up, turning to look at his companion. “I beg your pardon?”

Merlin flushed. “I mean, you don’t have to. You have a choice.”

“Of what? Going back or staying here, lost in the wilds of England?”

“No.” Merlin scowled at him. “God, do you never change? Always a prat.”

“And you’re still an idiot.” Arthur snapped.

“I knew I should have just left you here to work it out on your own.” Merlin huffed and his eyes blazed gold.

Suddenly afraid of being left alone in this strange in-between place, he grabbed Merlin’s arm. “No!”

“Then listen.” It was a grumble, but his eyes had softened. Merlin had never been immune to Arthur when he showed even the smallest hints of vulnerability.

“Well, start making sense.” Arthur muttered, but there was no heat in it. He could remember having had this conversation countless times before, and the memory was a good one. Merlin would always get indignant, and then Arthur would smile and charm him back into his usual good mood.

“I would if you’d give me a chance!” Merlin cried indignantly. Arthur smiled, and then laughed. Merlin followed his lead. “No, nothing ever changes.”

“Would you want it to?” Arthur asked, curious as to what the magician’s answer might be.

Merlin looked at him, eyes drinking him in like he had been without for too long. “No”, he replied. “No, I wouldn’t want to change you.”

Arthur leaned down and kissed him, as natural as could be, and Merlin opened up to it just the same. When he pulled back, Arthur was torn between his two worlds. Modern Arthur was not attracted to men, had never even looked at one for anything beyond friendship, but the old Arthur had been deeply in love with the man now before him. Those feelings were just as real now, but it put him at odds with himself. “I’m sorry. I don’t...”

“Don’t apologise. We are what we are, Arthur. I can wait for you to decide which way you wish to go.”

“Speaking of choices...” Arthur put that decision on the backburner. “You were about to explain my other choice?”

“Yes.” Merlin seemed to shake himself, his eyes becoming serious. “There are only so many incarnations for each of us to live. That number changes for every person. I was only given one, but that one came with great longevity, followed by eternity in the realm of magic. You were given many more, but this is the last. Now you are free to join us.”

“In the realm of magic?” Arthur asked, possibly more confused than before.

“In Camelot.” Merlin replied.

“Camelot?” Arthur frowned. “Camelot is long gone, Merlin, and if you take me back in time, won’t I already be there?”

“The day you died, so did Camelot. Many were devastated, and disillusioned. So I took Camelot....somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.” It was said like a statement, but it was clearly a query. “You just...took a city, and its people, and, what? Magicked them to another realm?”

“No, not like that. The city was left to wither and die naturally, but I kept the memory of it alive elsewhere. Those who were righty disposed, those who longed for the glory days of Camelot until the day they died, were allowed to return to it.”

“So....you’re telling me that Camelot is Heaven? Where people go when they’re dead? Wait! Am I dead? Is that what this is all about?”

Merlin huffed out a laugh. “No! No, you’re not dead. Not yet, anyway. And Camelot isn’t Heaven. I...I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just...there.” He shrugged helplessly.

“So, it’s Brigadoon, but you have to die to get there?” There may have been a hint of hysteria to Arthur’s laughter.

“Brigadoon? No, Arthur, it’s Avalon!”

“Well then, why didn’t you just say so?” Arthur asked, things finally coming together for him. Merlin gave a frustrated little cry and Arthur wisely moved on. “So, when do we go there?”

“That is up to you, Arthur.”

“Well, let’s go then!” He jumped up, more than ready to visit the home of his heart.

“No, Arthur, you don’t understand. You can’t just visit. If we go, it is forever.” Merlin sounded sad.

Arthur looked at him. “That’s what you meant when you said I wasn’t dead yet, isn’t it? If I go with you now, I’ll have to die.”

Merlin nodded. “Yes. That is why it must be your choice. You must decide if there is anything in this world that you must live for. Family, lovers, friends. Are there things you must do? I can’t make the decision for you.”

“My father is dead.” Arthur told him, his voice still wavering slightly over the words. “And I have no other family, no lovers. I do have one friend who would miss me.”

Merlin’s eyes flashed momentarily gold and then he was handing Arthur a mobile. “He will, and if you disappear he will always search for you. He’s a good friend.” Merlin smiled at Arthur. “If you decide to come with me, you can call him and tell him not to worry.”

Arthur looked at Merlin. The wizard had followed him everywhere, into battle, into the future. There was nothing in this life he loved as much as he had loved his Camelot, and his sorcerer. Merlin wasn’t pushing him; he would wait as long as Arthur needed. Arthur flipped open the phone and entered the only number he knew by heart. It rang for a moment before going to voicemail. He was vaguely relieved that his friend wouldn’t be able to ask questions. “Hey Brett. It’s Arthur. I wanted to let you know...I’m going away...and I won’t be back. It’s going to look suspicious, like I’ve disappeared, but I wanted you to know I’m alright. Please don’t tell anyone I’ve contacted you.” He paused, wondering if he could have said it better. “Anyway, I wanted you to know, and I wanted to say thank you. You’ve put up with a lot to be my friend, and you’ve been the only thing that kept me sane much of the time. So, ah, that’s it. I just...goodbye.”

The phone disappeared as soon as Arthur closed it. Merlin looked at him. “Are you absolutely sure? You can’t go back...”

“I’m sure.” Arthur cut in, and then smiled to ease the sharpness of his tone. “I’m sure.”

Merlin stepped close and put his hand either side of Arthur’s head. “Goodnight, sweet prince,” he quoted whimsically, “and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but there was no breath to speak. Before he could panic, before it could be painful, the darkness took him.

And if you have a minute why don't we go,
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything.
So why don't we go,
Somewhere only we know?

Arthur opened his eyes. Again. He had to admit that he was sick of this whole waking up thing that he had going on today. But then again, he supposed it was better than the option of not waking up at all. That thought led him to remember what had just happened, and he sat up with a gasp. The rolling fields were gone, replaced by a thick forest. The overgrown path had become a wide dirt track, well-trampled by hooves. And his clothes...the red coat he wore was comfortable and familiar and nothing like his modern day clothes. Arthur threw his head back and laughed, wild and free and light.

“Are you alright? Is something wrong?” Suddenly, a panicked Merlin was beside him, patting him over with frantic hands.

Laughing a moment longer, Arthur finally managed to answer, “It’s here. It’s all here! Merlin...”

“I know.” The dark-haired man smiled widely, like he understood all the things Arthur hadn’t said.

Arthur jumped up, reached down and hauled Merlin up by the hand he gave him, and started to pull them both down the road. “Hurry! I want to see it. It’s been so long...” The yearning was strong in his voice, and Merlin stumbled along behind him, chuckling at the blonde’s boyish enthusiasm. Arthur looked at him impatiently and said, “Can’t you magic us up a couple of horses or something?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, two white horses appeared. Or, no, they were... “Unicorns, Merlin? Really?”

“It’s Avalon.” Merlin shrugged, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. Again Arthur laughed, dragging them towards the waiting animals. A whisper of sound blew through the trees. He is returned. Merlin’s eyes widened. “Arthur! The trees!”

“Yes, I know, they’re back.” Arthur rolled his eyes.

Merlin hit him on the arm. It was still like a fly hitting an elephant, as far as Arthur’s reaction to it went. “No, Arthur. They’re talking. The trees have not spoken since...” He looked at Arthur, wide-eyed. “Since you died.”

“I assure you, Merlin, I am not making them talk.” Arthur was amused, and just a little uncomfortable.

We mourned. The rustling told him. Now we rejoice. Merlin blinked his suddenly wet eyes. “They kept silent in sorrow; for you.”

“Oh.” Arthur looked around. Louder, he said, “Ah, thank you. I...um, appreciate it?”

Swept away with the joy that was resounding from every part of Camelot, Merlin kissed Arthur, remembering too late that the other man was still confused. He stepped back, blushing again. “Sorry.”

Arthur smiled and placed a gentle hand on Merlin’s cheek. “Now I am here, I feel more like...me. Less like...the other...me. I like your kisses, Merlin. I always did.”

“Arthur...” Merlin whispered. An impatient snort interrupted whatever it was he had been about to say, and he gave a rueful smile. “I fear our lift is keen to go; with or without us.”

“Then we should go.” Arthur was back to being excited. He quickly climbed onto the first unicorn’s back while Merlin clambered onto the other one, still clumsy after all this time. He didn’t care when he saw how affectionate exasperation made Arthur’s eyes soft.

Without any need for guidance, the unicorns cantered along the track. Arthur could feel his heart slowly rising in his chest and, as they crested the last hill, it lodged firmly in his throat. Before them, on a slight rise, sat Camelot. The walls gleamed in the late afternoon sun, the red flags flapping lazily in the soft breeze. It was like coming home after a long campaign, seeing everything you had taken for granted with new, wiser eyes. A warm, gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder and Arthur tore his eyes away long enough to see the joy and delight in Merlin’s smile.

“We’ve waited a long time for you.” As they started forward once more, there was a blast of trumpets from the battlements. “They’re announcing the return of their King.” Arthur sat straighter on his steed, his shoulders straightening. It was a regal bearing that could only be bred, not taught. Merlin’s eyes glinted briefly. “One last thing, Sire.”

Arthur opened his mouth to give Merlin his usual speech about his lack of respectful tone, when he felt an added weight upon his brow. Now it was there, he knew that he had missed it up until now. Falling back on his prattish arrogance to hide the emotions practically swamping him, Arthur asked, “Which one did you choose? Not the hideously pretentious one, I hope.”

Merlin raised a brow, knowing exactly what Arthur was doing. “It’s the one your father gave you on your 21st birthday; the day you became the Crown Prince of Camelot.”

Looking up, Arthur’s eyes met Merlin’s and held. It was all there; everything they were both feeling, everything they had never, and would never, say to one another, everything they already knew about each other and had always understood. Arthur smiled, cocky and excited once more. “Let’s go home, Merlin.”

Side by side, the King and his Warlock rode through the gates of Camelot, an eternity together before them.

The End

A/N: The song is, of course, Somwhere Only We Know by Keane.