Merlin fic: Welcome to Storybrooke (crossover with ABC's Once upon a Time) - Part 1/2
Title: Welcome to Storybrooke
Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Merlin, Snow/Charming
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~13k
Summary: Arthur and Merlin have been on this American road trip for what seems to be forever, when their car breaks and they stumble on a weird little town.
Warnings: Character death, mentions of torture, terminal illness. (But it's a lot less dark than these warnings make it look like.)
Disclaimer: Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. Once upon a Time is owned by ABC. No copyright infringement intended.
Note: This story is set post S4 for Merlin, and sometimes in the middle of S1 for OuaT-making it completely AU for the latter. It was written for this prompt on the kinkme_merlin.
‘This is clearly entirely your fault, Merlin!’ Arthur punches the glove compartment as he says it and Merlin has to force himself not to throw up his hands in frustration, because doing that while driving would certainly not be a good idea.
‘Is it?’ Merlin answers through gritted teeth. ‘I really don’t see how any of this can be my fault, when it all originated from you.’
‘Well, you were the one supposed to navigate us, but it seems to me we’re lost in the middle of nowhere.’ Arthur is letting his arrogant prat side take over and it’s a clear sign that he’s utterly exhausted.
Merlin is quite tired too, as things are, but it seems he’s never too tired to fight with Arthur. Why they’ve decided to have this kind of road trip together when they can’t spend two hours without bickering is a great mystery.
‘I can hardly navigate us properly when I’m to drive ninety percent of the time. Just because you decided you weren’t able to drive on the right side of the road…’ Merlin grumbles, his eyes fixed on the road.
The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders why on earth he accepted to come to the States with Arthur in the first place. He’s never really been as fascinated by what was on the other side of the pound as some people are, but even if his memories before the road trip are a bit fuzzy, he remembers thinking it was the thing to do. How trapping oneself in a car for an undetermined length of time with one’s unrequired and very straight crush could ever be the thing to do, Merlin’s guess is as good as anyone’s.
But he’s there now, in an American car with Arthur, and he can clearly think of a million places he’d rather be.
Because the worst of it is that, even after being subjected to Arthur’s awful musical tastes, his bossiness and his numerous criticisms on Merlin’s driving, Merlin’s crush hasn’t abated at all. Arthur is still the most gorgeous thing on earth, his smile is still knee-melting and when they take their time to talk-really talk, not just banter or bicker-Merlin can see that Arthur’s heart is as golden as his hair.
It’s quite fortunate that Arthur finds time to regularly mention that he’s engaged to Merlin’s best friend. Without that, there would be an even greater risk for Merlin to fall in love with the bastard. Not that the risk isn’t there anyway.
They’re on the curve of a road Merlin thinks they’ve already been on when the car breaks down. Arthur is leaning down to tie his shoe when they stop abruptly and he knocks his head on the side of the dashboard. Merlin smiles at his angry expletives. He knows it’s only a matter of seconds before Arthur chooses to pin the blame on Merlin.
‘What have you done to the car?’ Arthur accuses very expectedly.
‘Nothing,’ Merlin answers calmly. ‘I think I heard something pop just before everything stopped.
‘Something popped?’ Arthur asks disbelievingly. ‘Aren’t rented car supposed to be in top shape? Do you remember the agency saying anything about what we should do if something like this happened?’
Merlin honestly can’t. He doesn’t really remember the agency at all in fact. It’s weird because he knows they went there in New York and rented a car they decided to affectionately call The Dragon, but he really can picture neither the agency’s front desk nor the employee’s face. And it gives him a right headache just thinking about it.
‘D’you think we should check the engine? Maybe we can do something about it,’ Merlin suggests reasonably.
‘I don’t know about you, Merlin, but I doubt my master in political sciences qualifies me to repair a car.’
Merlin sighs and unbuckles his belt. It’s not the first time Arthur seems to be under the impression that because he never did anything practical in his life, Merlin should act like his manservant.
Merlin’s arm hurts when he pushes the driver’s door open and hurts a little more when he pulls the car bonnet open. He fishes his medicine from his jeans pocket. Only one pill left. Merlin stares at it, white and so small in his palm, and swallows it without water. No more painkillers for Merlin; there’s no need to waste water too. They don’t know how long until the next town, after all. It seems to be weeks since they last saw one.
He looks thoughtfully to what he can see of the engine. Something has definitely popped, and the engine no longer resembles what Merlin is pretty sure an engine should look like. When he closes the bonnet, Arthur is out of the car, leaning against the boot and nibbling on some chocolate biscuits they bought at the last filling station. The sky is grey but Arthur’s got his pair of aviator sunglasses on. It’s a shame, really, to hide such a beautiful shade of blue.
Merlin goes to stand next to him and grabs the biscuits packet. ‘The car seems pretty dead to me.’ He pops a biscuit in his mouth, lets the chocolate melt on his tongue, and says, ‘What should we do, now?’
‘It seems pretty obvious to me, Merlin,’ Arthur says with a long-suffering sigh. ‘I know you’re generally a very lazy person, but we’ll have to walk. There has to be some kind of town nearby, or they wouldn’t have bothered building such a nice piece of asphalted crap.’ Arthur grimaces as if the road has personally offended him. And maybe it has; there has to be a reason their Awesome Road Trip has turned so badly.
They take their backpacks and some food, and they’re on their way.
It’s almost ironic that they find a town sign in their first half hour of walk, after having driven for so long without anything in sight. Arthur is genuinely happy: Merlin can see it in the curve of his smile, a real smile without the usual hint of sarcasm.
‘Look at that, Merlin! Your little girly legs will be able to rest, now.’
Merlin is happy too, so much so that he doesn’t even take offense about the legs remark, because it’s true that his legs hurt a lot. He follows Arthur after taking a last look at the sign.
Welcome to Storybrooke.
~
Arthur was King for more than a year, but it didn’t mean he would stop doing fieldwork altogether; especially when the fieldwork concerned Morgana’s whereabouts. He trusted his knights with his life, but he knew there were some things he couldn’t totally leave in their hands.
He trusted Gwaine to fight anything Morgana would throw at him; he trusted Elyan not to let himself be fooled by her magic; he trusted Leon to give her a merciful death; he trusted Percival to protect all of them with his whole body and soul; and he trusted Merlin to absolutely crush Morgana with his magic. But it was only himself he trusted to offer her redemption if there was the slightest possibility she’d take it.
She had betrayed him in the worst way possible, but she was still his sister. He still had loved her very dearly. Once, he would have done anything to save her life. If there was any way he could still save her, even if it was from herself, he would do it with no hesitation.
Merlin had indicated where Morgana’s hut was situated and they were all there, with the addition of twenty knights and twice more soldiers. Morgana was supposed to still be recovering from her latest failed attack, but they didn’t want to take any chance.
They were circling her cabin now, and neither his hunter senses nor Merlin’s magical ones had detected anything untoward coming from inside. Whether it was a good or a bad thing, Arthur wasn’t so sure.
Arthur lifted his right arm and flicked his wrist. He held up four fingers and made a fist. Leon, Gwaine, Elyan and Percival got into position and Merlin looked at him in a very confused way.
‘We’re getting in,’ Arthur mouthed, hoping Merlin’s obtuseness concerning his hand-signals didn’t expand to reading on lips. This was not the time for Merlin, Great Warlock at the Camelot court, to behave like an idiot.
Merlin nodded and Arthur sighed in relief. He closed his eyes in concentration and, with one sharp gesture, gave the go-ahead.
Everything happened very fast. They charged the little cabin and were restraining Morgana before she could even lift her hands or utter a curse. Merlin’s eyes were glowing, which meant that he was doing something to keep her magic in check.
But before Arthur agreed to Gwaine’s unspoken request to finish her off, he had to say something, to talk to her and have this last confirmation that she couldn’t be redeemed.
As he was approaching her, as careful as with a wounded beast, he heard an unearthly cry above them, something animal and wretched that distracted him and the others enough to let Morgana the time to produce a blinding and deadly light.
It was coming towards Arthur, but Merlin was too, and the light hit Merlin right in the chest. Arthur didn’t hear himself scream Merlin’s name as he was projected a few feet back. All he could hear was the hut crumbling around them.
While he was trying not to lose consciousness and to get to Merlin, he saw what had produced the cry. It was landing inside the hut through the blown-off roof, huge and white, menacing claws coming first.
Arthur gripped Excalibur and threw it at what looked like the ghost of a dragon. His arm was too sluggish from the shock of Morgana’s curse and the sword reached the beast’s emplacement one second too late. The dragon-yes, it was a dragon-had already taken hold of Morgana and was flying away with another of its wretched cry.
Arthur tried to stand but stumbled. He crawled towards Merlin as fast as he could.
Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.
Arthur’s whole body hurt and he could see his faithful knights getting back on their feet and taking notice of their respective injuries. They didn’t seem too bad; they were all in one piece, with enough breath in their lungs to groan and moan. They looked all better than Merlin did.
When Arthur reached him, Merlin was paler than usual and his eyes were closed in pain, but he was breathing. He was breathing and Arthur could see no blood nor any sign of internal damage.
And then he opened his eyes and Arthur could see immediately the question there and the hope. But there was no hope anymore.
‘She’s gone, Merlin. Morgana escaped.’
Merlin didn’t answer; he just looked at Arthur with blank eyes and sweat drops rolling off his forehead.
‘Merlin? Merlin, are you all right? Can you hear me?’
Merlin shifted his head a little and Arthur was now close enough to see his imperceptible nod.
‘Can you talk, Merlin? Talk to me!’
Arthur knew he was not in a state a king should be, but he couldn’t help it. If he lost Merlin now, after losing Morgana, and his father, and his uncle…Arthur tried not to think about it. He pressed his head against Merlin’s limp body.
‘Please, Merlin, please…’ he whispered.
‘Don’t be a girl,’ Merlin said, his voice a little rough but as playful as it’d been all these mornings when it was still his task to wake Arthur up. ‘It’s not like I’m dead or anything…’
Arthur huffed, half in relief half in annoyance, and straightened up. When he looked into Merlin’s eyes again, he could see that despite his smile, Merlin was clearly still a bit in pain.
‘You could very well be dead,’ Arthur said seriously. ‘The thing Morgana hit you with blew up half her house. We need to get you to Gaius as soon as possible.’
Merlin’s lips turned down at this and he coughed a little before sitting up and saying, ‘I recognised the type of curse she hit me with. It is a slow-acting one, but there is nothing Gaius or anyone can do. I need to find Morgana and bring her back. She’s the only one who can…’ Merlin trailed off.
He was no doubt seeing Arthur’s aggravated expression, and maybe he could feel Arthur’s distress too, because he was soon concentrating his strength into gripping Arthur’s hand in his. ‘What’s wrong, Arthur? I can just use a localisation spell or something, I’ll be able to find her, don’t worry-’
Arthur was shaking his head now and he clutched Merlin’s hand harder. ‘She’s gone, Merlin. She-she flew away,’ he emphasised, as if doubtful Merlin would believe him. But Merlin was the sorcerer; there certainly were only a few things he wouldn’t believe. ‘She flew away with a white dragon. She could already be hours away, by now.’
Merlin didn’t look as alarmed as Arthur felt and he looked more like the complete idiot Arthur had always thought he was than like a supposedly almighty sorcerer. Sometimes Arthur really didn’t know if he wanted to protect Merlin with his life or tear him to pieces.
‘What now, Merlin?’
‘Well,’ Merlin said, as sheepishly as he could in his present state, ‘there’s one thing I still haven’t told you about my being a sorcerer…’
Arthur raised his eyebrows and tried to gather all the patience he had left in his body. He was really sick of secrets and of people he completely trusted not trusting him back.
‘I…I kind of have a dragon, too, and I may or may not be the last Dragonlord. Morgana’s got some kind of hold on Aithusa right now, but we can chase her easily.’
Arthur sighed again. He wouldn’t even ask what Aithusa was. Someday Merlin would really be the death of him. But he wasn’t completely useless, as he sensed Arthur’s irritation right away. Or maybe he was just used to it.
‘I can call the dragon right now and I’ll find Morgana in no time,’ Merlin hurried to say. ‘She must be very weak after the magic she just did-’
‘Nonsense, Merlin. You’re quite weak too, if you haven’t noticed. I’m obviously coming with you.’
‘But- You...you can’t! You’re the King! I might have to go very far away and you need to be in Camelot. You need to-’
‘Stop trying to decide what I need or not and just, for once in your lifetime, do what I order you. You’re not fit to travel on your own, hardly even fit to travel at all. We don’t know the effects the curse is going to have. You saved my life, Merlin, once again. I cannot stay here and wonder if you’re dead yet.’
Merlin didn’t seem to have heard Arthur’s sound arguments at all, though, and was keeping on protesting and spluttering, ‘But what about Gwen? She’s your wife! She needs you to be next to her, you can’t go on a chase around the world without-’
‘Guinevere doesn’t need me right now,’ Arthur cut in again. ‘I trust her to take care of the Kingdom while we’re away. You need me, Merlin. And I need to help you. Besides, I think she’d hold it against me if I didn’t do everything in my power to save you.’
Merlin stood up, smiled reluctantly and nodded. It was obvious that if Arthur hadn’t been his King, Merlin would have found a way to shake him off.
‘Very well, but I’ve got to warn you: travel by dragon is not the most comfortable, and you’d better not be whining about the state of your royal arse.’
Arthur lightly hit Merlin behind the head for the first time of their long travel.
~
The first thing Arthur sees upon entering Storybrooke is the black and white insignia of the Marine Garage in the distance. Thank God for small mercies, he was starting to doubt the town would be big enough to have a garage in it.
‘It seems luck’s with us after all, Merlin,’ he says, nudging Merlin with his elbow. ‘Maybe we’ll even be able to take the road again before the night.’
‘Are you serious?’ Merlin answers with the tone of someone who really doesn’t want Arthur to be serious. ‘Don’t you think we’ve been lost there long enough? I’d rather we don’t throw ourselves back into this American labyrinth anytime soon.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin! We’ll just have to ask local people for directions.’ Arthur knows he sounds a little too optimistic, but he really believes things will sort themselves out. Their Awesome Road Trip could resume very shortly and he’d rather go back to adventures and foreign discoveries than stay holed up in this tiny and boring-looking village.
Merlin doesn’t look too happy about it, but Arthur doesn’t worry. All right, maybe their trip hasn’t so far been as magical and exciting as he’d promised, but it is just a question of time. Once they are back on the right track, Merlin will be back to his joyous, smiling self. It is somehow very important to Arthur that Merlin would smile.
They have almost reached the garage when they get accosted by a blond woman with a frown. Well, maybe not accosted, exactly, but her frown is very prominent, so it does look a little threatening.
‘Hello,’ she says. Her tone is not cold, really, but it is not overly friendly either. ‘I’m the town’s sheriff. Can I help you both with anything?’
‘Hm, no, thanks, we were just going to-’
‘Where are you from?’ she cuts in. She looks less and less like she wants to help them in any way, and more like she suspects them of wanting to implant a drug cartel in her little town.
‘We’re from the UK actually,’ Arthur answers good-naturedly. There is no way he’ll let himself get intimidated by this girl. He even decides to go for the kill and plasters his patented Pendragon Dazzling Smile on his face.
It is very rare anyone can resist such a smile, but this town’s sheriff definitely does. Her frown only deepens and she doesn’t wait more to ask another question.
‘And what business exactly do you have in Storybrooke?’ she asks, not realising she’s supposed to be Pendragon-Dazzled. Arthur can see Merlin trying not to laugh in the corner of his eye. Stupid wanker. Well, at least he does smile now.
This doesn’t stop Arthur from feeling hurt. ‘And what business exactly does the sheriff have, interrogating innocent people like they’re common felons? Do you treat all your visitors like that?’
‘Well, actually,’ someone says in a very young voice. Arthur looks down and sees a little boy with brown hair standing next to the sheriff. Arthur wonders if he has been there the whole time. ‘There are never any visitors in Storybrooke.’
While the statement is a bit incongruous, the breathy quality of the child’s voice at least indicates that Arthur’s not crazy; the boy’s just run here and Arthur was too preoccupied with his own indignation to notice his arrival. Arthur wants to dismiss him and go on lashing out at this sheriff-woman, but of course soft-hearted (and most of the time soft-headed) Merlin has crouched next to the boy with an interested air.
‘What do you mean, there are never any visitors here? I see a Bed and Breakfast right there.’ Merlin points to the aforementioned building and Arthur wonders why Merlin even bothers discussing this point when they’ve got a blond sheriff scowling at them.
The woman seems to be on the same page as Arthur though, because when he looks up at her, he sees she’s looking at the boy the same way he must have been looking at Merlin: a little annoyed, but mostly fond. ‘Maybe we never get any visitors, Henry,’ she says to the child, ‘but these two gentlemen really seem to be just passing.’
Her last words are loaded with something very insistent that Arthur can’t decipher but that seems crystal clear to this Henry-boy. The latter raises his eyebrows half in surprise half in inquiry and Arthur decides he doesn’t have time for this.
‘Look here, I don’t care if you’re the sheriff or if this child his your deputy or whatnot, but I’ve got a car in a really bad state on the side of the road and all I want is to have your car mechanic take a look at it. Or maybe I need to fill out immigration papers to have the right to simply walk down your main street?’
Arthur knows getting angry won’t help his cause, but Henry just keeps looking at him with interest-and with absolutely no fear of the mad British man-so it mustn’t be too bad yet.
‘Are you really from abroad?’ Henry asks them, as if he has never known there is a world outside his town. Americans, Arthur thinks unkindly, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses; these people really think they’re the beginning and the end to everything, don’t they?
Arthur wants to just ignore the boy’s question, but Merlin is still crouched next to Henry and seems to have decided to bond with the kid. ‘We’re from the UK, we swear,’ he says with an amused smile. ‘Can’t you hear it from our accent?’
This playful tone of Merlin’s really grates Arthur’s nerves without him really knowing why. Maybe it’s just that he wants Merlin to be on his side, to talk next to his face and to smile at him like he does right now. Why is the crinkle of Merlin’s eyes never addressed to Arthur?
‘Well, the accent doesn’t really mean anything,’ Henry says. ‘Mr Gold’s got a Scottish accent, but he’s been here as long as everybody.’
Arthur frowns and Merlin opens his mouth, no doubt to ask what Henry means exactly, but the blond sheriff says, ‘Henry!’ very sternly and after a brief sheepish look, the boy turns his attention to her.
They seem to communicate by looks for a full half-minute and Arthur wants to take an un-crouched Merlin by the elbow and just go to the garage, but the sheriff addresses them again.
‘There’s no problem for you to be here, of course,’ she says, looking into Arthur’s eyes but not really convincing him. ‘Marco will help you with the car. If you’ve got any problem, come to the police station, I’ll be sure to give you a hand.’
As if, Arthur thinks right away. The woman really doesn’t give him the impression that she’ll help them in any way-more that she’ll find any reason to put them behind bars.
‘I’m Henry, by the way,’ the kid says. ‘And this is Emma.’
Arthur thinks the presentations are coming a little late and he’s already angling his body to leave, but Merlin answers as if their interaction so far had been the perfect model of politeness. ‘I’m Merlin,’ he says, ‘and this is-’
And then this very, very weird thing happens: at the exact same time Merlin pronounces the word, Henry says ‘Arthur’ with a wide smile and a meaningful look towards Sheriff Emma. This makes her frown almost as much as it makes Arthur frown, but doesn’t seem to affect Merlin much.
Arthur really thought they were done with this useless questioning, but the sheriff, it seems, has one more thing to say.
‘And you say you’re English.’ She sounds half-doubtful, half like she wants to make a joke about their names.
Arthur wants to answer this one, and to be as cutting as he can in his answer, but Merlin cuts him off. ‘We said we were British, actually, not English. We come from Wales.’ His tone is as friendly as ever, but it seems to shock Emma more than it would have if Arthur had answered the question the way he wanted.
Arthur grabs Merlin by the arm and uses the sheriff’s distraction to make for the garage. He doesn’t pay Emma or Henry more attention, but he swears he can hear Henry say ‘Told you’ in a very knowing and annoying way.
Arthur doesn’t know how the kid knew his name and what he’s implying about them, and doesn’t want to know. Whatever Merlin might think, they’ll never be out of this town soon enough.
~
Merlin had actually no good reason not to want Arthur with him on this chase. This didn’t mean he didn’t have reasons at all.
Because riding a dragon might be uncomfortable for the reason he’d told Arthur-and Merlin had never felt his legs so sore riding Kilgharrah before-but riding a dragon with Arthur’s arms wrapped around him was even worse.
Merlin was trying very hard not to let himself sink into those arms, and it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done (and he counted having to poison one of his best friends). He had known this would happen, that was why he didn’t want Arthur to come with him after Morgana, or on any quest.
Ever since Arthur had married Gwen, Merlin had tried his best to keep him at arm’s length. Because Merlin had always known Arthur wasn’t for him, but his marriage to Gwen made him forbidden.
And this made things really dangerous, because it just made Merlin want Arthur even more, which was completely irrational really, since Merlin had been one of the most fervent to root for Arthur and Gwen to marry as quickly as possible. He had sincerely thought that once they were married, his stupid crush on his King would resolve itself.
Arthur’s palms pressed against his sides just proved him once more that it hadn’t worked at all. It made Merlin feel even worse, because Gwen was his friend, and he really wanted to be happy for her and not to lust after her husband, not falling in love with him.
‘Are we getting closer?’ Arthur asked sharply, for what must have been the hundredth time.
Merlin would have snapped, or said something disparaging about Arthur behaving like a child, but the undertone in his voice was so worried that Merlin just answered as he always answered: ‘I’ll ask him.’
Kilgharrah had been, needless to say, very reluctant to let a Pendragon ride on his back. Merlin had been lucky enough to have the sense to remind the dragon that he couldn’t reasonably separate two sides of the same coin. One thing Kilgharrah hadn’t accepted to do though was to speak to Arthur. So much so that the king wasn’t even aware Kilgharrah understood human language.
‘Answer his question, then,’ Merlin said in dragon-tongue. ‘I’m quite tired of being your unnecessary interpret.’
Kilgharrah’s reaction felt almost like the dragon version of a chuckle, and all his body trembled. Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s waist and Merlin was tempted to kick the dragon on the flank. If only his legs didn’t feel so heavy right now.
‘It is my belief that you are tired from far more serious ailments, young warlock,’ Kilgharrah answered. ‘As for our target, we’re no longer as far as we’ve been. Aithusa might have found a way to escape his Dragonlord’s hold, but he is still a youngling, and my power exceeds his own.’
‘We’ll get to her soon,’ Merlin told Arthur, not worried how much of the dragon’s words got lost in translation.
Arthur relaxed his hold on Merlin somewhat, and Merlin could feel tension leaving his own body too. They’d been in this position for too long and he wished they could at least take some breaks to stretch their legs, but they hadn’t seen anything but water below them for a long time. Merlin wished Arthur’s breath on his neck didn’t feel so natural and that his presence behind him wasn’t so much like a second skin.
Even Merlin’s magic, which had been providing them with first necessities for the duration of their travel, was behaving with Arthur more comfortably than what was appropriate.
It was wrapping itself all around Arthur the same way Arthur’s arms were around Merlin when a sudden movement from Arthur jolted Merlin out of his daze. The movement-a sharp shake of his head-was soon followed by Arthur’s loud and enthusiastic voice: ‘Land! I can see land!’
Merlin looked down. He could see land, too, and how beautiful it was: great expanses of greens and greys and the warm browns of autumn. And if he squinted a little he could see something else too, a small stain of pure white on this explosion of colours.
‘Aithusa,’ Merlin said quietly.
‘I see him too, young warlock,’ Kilgharrah answered his untold question. ‘He must have tired of the long flight…’
‘Or maybe Morgana has reached her destination.’
Merlin was more scared of that than of anything, because it meant she had a plan, and wasn’t just acting wildly, doing everything she could to escape Emrys. It meant it could very well be a trap and Merlin didn’t have the upper hand as much as he would have liked.
And really, looking at things as they were now, with Merlin and Arthur in the air, in plain sight on a giant dragon, and Morgana hidden in the undergrowth of unknown lands, their only luck would be for Morgana not to notice they were following her. Merlin’s magic had absolutely no way to reach her. Arthur seemed to sense it too. Merlin could feel the muscles of Arthur’s arms and legs contracting the same way they were doing right before battle.
Merlin was going to say something, he didn’t know what-maybe something comforting, maybe a warning-when he got cut off by a flash of light flying just past them. It was only the sharp movement of Kilgharrah’s left wing that deflected it.
Merlin had recognised the light as the same curse he had been hit with back in Morgana’s hut, and hoped the dragon’s skin was thick enough to resist it.
All the hopes Merlin could have seemed foolish though, because the next curse came spiralling right to them and the only way for them to avoid being hit was either to jump off Kilgharrah’s back or-
Kilgharrah flipped abruptly, positioning his body as if standing on his hind legs on a cloud, and Merlin just had the time to utter a spell to allow them to keep their grip on the dragon before Kilgharrah was hit right in the centre of his big scaled belly.
Everything went too fast for Merlin to apprehend, then. Kilgharrah was not responsive anymore and they were hurled down by gravity and the force of the shock. Merlin’s magic was taking free reigns, slowing them, lightening them, and, mostly, checking that Arthur was all right and sticking him inalterably to Merlin’s back.
Merlin wasn’t sure it was enough though, because Morgana kept throwing her curses at them and Merlin could deflect some of them, but most ended up crashing against Kilgharrah’s scales, which didn’t help their situation at all.
When they finally hit the ground, it was almost a relief to no longer tumble in the air from one shock to the other. It was still painful though; they landed on trees and sharp rocks and even if Kilgharrah took the brunt of it all, Merlin could still feel blood wetting his tunic-his and Arthur’s. Merlin’s came from a long gash on the back of his left arm, and if the pain was intense, it was nothing next to the burning sensation he felt in all his articulations.
Merlin rolled from Kilgharrah’s back to the dirt and was tempted to let his eyes fall shut and his mind drift into oblivion.
But he wasn’t let the chance to get any rest. Only a few seconds passed before he was shaken by strong hands, Arthur’s panicked cries ringing inside his head.
Arthur’s face appeared in his field of vision and before the king’s shouting of ‘Merlin! Merlin! Merlin!’ could register, all Merlin could focus on was the huge amounts of blood running down the side of Arthur’s face and reddening his blond strands of hair.
Merlin sat up and cleared his head, and Arthur relaxed a little. The pain Merlin was feeling all over was dulling a little now, making every gesture more bearable.
Merlin reached for the magical strength he had left to clean and close Arthur’s head wound and as an answer to Arthur’s stern look, did the same to his own arm.
They both stood up after a little while and took in their surroundings.
Kilgharrah was lying on his side, his huge and limp form crushed against bent trees. He was completely unmoving. Even if Merlin had known there was no way for the dragon to survive the assault that had just happened, he still felt the deepest shock at the realisation that Kilgharrah wouldn’t be moving anymore.
Something cracked inside Merlin’s chest and even with Arthur standing just behind him, he felt a wave of loneliness crashing into him. Kilgharrah had been far from being a friend to Merlin, but had been a true ally and had died saving their lives-he’d always been there when Merlin needed him. Losing Kilgharrah was a little like losing hope.
Merlin approached his big snout and stroked it lightly. His dark eyes were still open, but depressingly expressionless.
Merlin closed his eyes and attempted to say something, but words-human and dragon words alike-stuck inside his throat.
‘Let’s go Merlin,’ Arthur said softly, after a little while.
And so they went.
~
‘You people were far closer from the town than you thought,’ the mechanic, whose name Merlin thinks is Marco, says with a smile. ‘Through the forest, we’re, I’d say, what? Five minutes from the town? And if you were coming this way, as you said, it seems you were more or less circling the town for some time, boys. It’s a wonder you didn’t find us sooner…’
This statement really doesn’t feel right with Merlin, and there’s an unease at the bottom of his stomach almost as bothering as the pain in his bones. It may or may not come from Arthur’s smug smile.
‘Incredible, Merlin! You managed to make us turn round and round.’
‘I did not!’ Merlin protests part because there’s no way he wouldn’t have noticed something so big and part because he has to disagree with Arthur when his tone is so conceited. ‘And you certainly didn’t realise anything either!’
‘No matter, Merlin. You were the one driving and supposed to pay attention to the road signs.’
Merlin splutters at Arthur’s hypocrisy, but it’s clear the only goal of Arthur’s insistence is to infuriate Merlin and watch him squirm, so he tries to ignore it.
‘After all these miles for nothing, you’ll be paying the fuel in full, next time we stop for gas,’ Arthur says with a playful tone, but very serious in his threat.
It’s more a question of principles than money, of course, and that’s what grates on Merlin’s nerves the most, because even when he’s wrong, Arthur always has to act so self-righteous about everything.
(Or maybe-maybe-what bothers Merlin more than anything is that despite how frustratingly annoying Arthur can be, Merlin still wants to kiss him more than he wants to punch him. And he wants to punch him a lot.)
‘What I can definitely tell you, boys,’ Marco the mechanic says, ignoring their bickering, ‘is that this car is not going to be able to drive you anywhere any time soon.’
‘What do you mean?’ Arthur demands importantly, and Merlin feels obligated to smile apologetically at Marco, because it sure sounds like Arthur’s accusing him for whatever happened to The Dragon.
‘What I mean, boy, is that the only way your car is salvageable is by changing the engine almost entirely. And this can take…what? At least one week for all the pieces to arrive, and minimum two full days of work for me to make sure your car is good to go. And keep in mind that I’ve got other things to do, too.’
Merlin sighs. He knows this kind of declaration won’t go well with Arthur and he’s not wrong: when he turns to him, Arthur has already brandished his phone and his stomping his foot angrily muttering about Americans and renting companies and bloody insurances. He doesn’t get to get into any rant though, because only a few seconds later, he snaps his Smartphone shut angrily and pushes it back inside his trousers’ pocket.
‘It seems as though we’re stuck here then, Merlin,’ Arthur says with gritted teeth and barely-controlled anger.
Fifteen minutes later, they’re at the town’s lone accommodation’s reception desk, and Arthur is ready to throw another fit.
‘What do you mean, you’ve got only one room left? The little kid told us you never got any visitors!’
Merlin sighs and tries to smile to the old lady as warmly as possible. It sure is going to be hard, managing to keep these people from throwing them out of the town, with the way Arthur is acting ever since they arrived.
‘No, we don’t get a lot of visitors, Sir,’ the lady-whose badge says Granny, but there’s no way Merlin can call her that without his own Gran turning in her grave-says with as much deference as Arthur is showing her (that is to say, not at all). ‘Hence the small number of rooms. And the other one is presently occupied, so you can share the one left or you can leave and stop wasting my time,’ she says with a threatening undertone that Merlin doesn’t like at all.
‘Oh, we’ll share, no problem!’ Merlin hurries to say, as conciliatory as possible, before Arthur can worsen their situation and make them sleep in their broken car.
Merlin doesn’t think his articulations could ever stand another night cramped in the cold, as sore as they already feel. There’s nothing he needs more than a good night sleep in a nice warm bed, and even if the prospect of lying inches from Arthur without being able to touch him is nightmarish, he owes it to his body.
The old lady smiles back at Merlin and hands him the key number two, completely ignoring Arthur as she informs Merlin about breakfast and check out time.
Merlin thanks her profusely and lets Arthur deal with most of the luggage. He considers that the prat owes him at least as much.
Merlin already has his head buried in one of the fluffiest pillow ever when Arthur brings the last backpack in the room and the last thing he hears before giving up to sleep is Arthur mentioning either a long shower or thong power.
He wakes up feeling stiff all over. His joints ache as much as before his nap, so there’s no surprise when he doesn’t manage to catch the take-away bag Arthur is throwing at him, resulting in a splatter of brown sauce on his favourite t-shirt. There’s not much more damage done, except maybe a rib Arthur is certainly cracking, what with his hysterical laughing.
Merlin sits up with difficulty and glares half-heartedly at Arthur, whose laughter finally dies down when he realises eating his daily gargantuan portion of food is more important than mocking Merlin.
‘You won’t sleep a wink tonight, Merlin. After such a long nap, you’ll fidget all night and keep me from sleeping,’ Arthur says between mouthfuls of meatballs sandwich, managing to still look distinguished despite his ogre-like diet.
Merlin unwraps his sandwich, careful of the spilt sauce, and he is too busy feeling pain with each move of his fingers to answer Arthur’s scolding. The prat is wrong anyway: there’s no way Merlin will be able to fidget during the night. All he wants right now is eating and going back to sleep.
‘I bought these at the diner. It’s owned by the same old hag as here, but she wasn’t there. Anyway, you should have seen it, Merlin: they all looked at me as if I was an alien invading their finest dining establishment. I think we’re the first foreigners they’ve seen in a very long time. My theory is they don’t have any telly here and we’re their sole entertainment. Maybe we should do something very foolish in public, just for their sake. Merlin, are you listening to me?’
Merlin glances up. Arthur has finished his sandwich and is looking at him half-worried, half-annoyed. Merlin only listened distractedly to his spiel, busy as he was swallowing a few mouthfuls of his sandwich, which is very tasty but feels impossible for his jaw to chew properly.
‘Are you all right, Merlin? Because you really don’t look it.’ Arthur’s tone is a hundred percent worried now, and even though he’s pleased to know he can provoke something else than annoyance and mockery in Arthur, Merlin’s bones hurt too much for him to enjoy the moment.
‘I’m just a bit under the weather, is all. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep,’ Merlin mumbles. He sets his sandwich on his bedside table, lays back down and closes his eyes, but he still feels as if each and every one of his bones is on fire.
‘You’re such a girl, Merlin,’ Arthur says with only a ghost of his usual derisive tone. Merlin can hear in his voice that it is just his attempt at making light of the situation.
There’s silence for a moment, the only sounds in the room Merlin’s louder-than-normal breath and a rustle of clothes, and then Merlin can feel the mattress dip next to him and Arthur’s warmth, soft against his back.
They’re both still for some time and then suddenly, Merlin can feel Arthur’s breath next to his ear. ‘You’ll be fine, won’t you, Merlin?’ His words are very quiet and for a moment Merlin is convinced that it’s only his imagination playing with him, but when the same voice adds a breathy, ‘You’d better be or I’ll leave you here to rot alone,’ Merlin definitely knows it’s real.
Merlin drifts off with Arthur’s reassuring arm against his back, and if it doesn’t take the pain away, at least it tries.
~
Next
Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Merlin, Snow/Charming
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~13k
Summary: Arthur and Merlin have been on this American road trip for what seems to be forever, when their car breaks and they stumble on a weird little town.
Warnings: Character death, mentions of torture, terminal illness. (But it's a lot less dark than these warnings make it look like.)
Disclaimer: Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. Once upon a Time is owned by ABC. No copyright infringement intended.
Note: This story is set post S4 for Merlin, and sometimes in the middle of S1 for OuaT-making it completely AU for the latter. It was written for this prompt on the kinkme_merlin.
‘This is clearly entirely your fault, Merlin!’ Arthur punches the glove compartment as he says it and Merlin has to force himself not to throw up his hands in frustration, because doing that while driving would certainly not be a good idea.
‘Is it?’ Merlin answers through gritted teeth. ‘I really don’t see how any of this can be my fault, when it all originated from you.’
‘Well, you were the one supposed to navigate us, but it seems to me we’re lost in the middle of nowhere.’ Arthur is letting his arrogant prat side take over and it’s a clear sign that he’s utterly exhausted.
Merlin is quite tired too, as things are, but it seems he’s never too tired to fight with Arthur. Why they’ve decided to have this kind of road trip together when they can’t spend two hours without bickering is a great mystery.
‘I can hardly navigate us properly when I’m to drive ninety percent of the time. Just because you decided you weren’t able to drive on the right side of the road…’ Merlin grumbles, his eyes fixed on the road.
The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders why on earth he accepted to come to the States with Arthur in the first place. He’s never really been as fascinated by what was on the other side of the pound as some people are, but even if his memories before the road trip are a bit fuzzy, he remembers thinking it was the thing to do. How trapping oneself in a car for an undetermined length of time with one’s unrequired and very straight crush could ever be the thing to do, Merlin’s guess is as good as anyone’s.
But he’s there now, in an American car with Arthur, and he can clearly think of a million places he’d rather be.
Because the worst of it is that, even after being subjected to Arthur’s awful musical tastes, his bossiness and his numerous criticisms on Merlin’s driving, Merlin’s crush hasn’t abated at all. Arthur is still the most gorgeous thing on earth, his smile is still knee-melting and when they take their time to talk-really talk, not just banter or bicker-Merlin can see that Arthur’s heart is as golden as his hair.
It’s quite fortunate that Arthur finds time to regularly mention that he’s engaged to Merlin’s best friend. Without that, there would be an even greater risk for Merlin to fall in love with the bastard. Not that the risk isn’t there anyway.
They’re on the curve of a road Merlin thinks they’ve already been on when the car breaks down. Arthur is leaning down to tie his shoe when they stop abruptly and he knocks his head on the side of the dashboard. Merlin smiles at his angry expletives. He knows it’s only a matter of seconds before Arthur chooses to pin the blame on Merlin.
‘What have you done to the car?’ Arthur accuses very expectedly.
‘Nothing,’ Merlin answers calmly. ‘I think I heard something pop just before everything stopped.
‘Something popped?’ Arthur asks disbelievingly. ‘Aren’t rented car supposed to be in top shape? Do you remember the agency saying anything about what we should do if something like this happened?’
Merlin honestly can’t. He doesn’t really remember the agency at all in fact. It’s weird because he knows they went there in New York and rented a car they decided to affectionately call The Dragon, but he really can picture neither the agency’s front desk nor the employee’s face. And it gives him a right headache just thinking about it.
‘D’you think we should check the engine? Maybe we can do something about it,’ Merlin suggests reasonably.
‘I don’t know about you, Merlin, but I doubt my master in political sciences qualifies me to repair a car.’
Merlin sighs and unbuckles his belt. It’s not the first time Arthur seems to be under the impression that because he never did anything practical in his life, Merlin should act like his manservant.
Merlin’s arm hurts when he pushes the driver’s door open and hurts a little more when he pulls the car bonnet open. He fishes his medicine from his jeans pocket. Only one pill left. Merlin stares at it, white and so small in his palm, and swallows it without water. No more painkillers for Merlin; there’s no need to waste water too. They don’t know how long until the next town, after all. It seems to be weeks since they last saw one.
He looks thoughtfully to what he can see of the engine. Something has definitely popped, and the engine no longer resembles what Merlin is pretty sure an engine should look like. When he closes the bonnet, Arthur is out of the car, leaning against the boot and nibbling on some chocolate biscuits they bought at the last filling station. The sky is grey but Arthur’s got his pair of aviator sunglasses on. It’s a shame, really, to hide such a beautiful shade of blue.
Merlin goes to stand next to him and grabs the biscuits packet. ‘The car seems pretty dead to me.’ He pops a biscuit in his mouth, lets the chocolate melt on his tongue, and says, ‘What should we do, now?’
‘It seems pretty obvious to me, Merlin,’ Arthur says with a long-suffering sigh. ‘I know you’re generally a very lazy person, but we’ll have to walk. There has to be some kind of town nearby, or they wouldn’t have bothered building such a nice piece of asphalted crap.’ Arthur grimaces as if the road has personally offended him. And maybe it has; there has to be a reason their Awesome Road Trip has turned so badly.
They take their backpacks and some food, and they’re on their way.
It’s almost ironic that they find a town sign in their first half hour of walk, after having driven for so long without anything in sight. Arthur is genuinely happy: Merlin can see it in the curve of his smile, a real smile without the usual hint of sarcasm.
‘Look at that, Merlin! Your little girly legs will be able to rest, now.’
Merlin is happy too, so much so that he doesn’t even take offense about the legs remark, because it’s true that his legs hurt a lot. He follows Arthur after taking a last look at the sign.
Welcome to Storybrooke.
~
Arthur was King for more than a year, but it didn’t mean he would stop doing fieldwork altogether; especially when the fieldwork concerned Morgana’s whereabouts. He trusted his knights with his life, but he knew there were some things he couldn’t totally leave in their hands.
He trusted Gwaine to fight anything Morgana would throw at him; he trusted Elyan not to let himself be fooled by her magic; he trusted Leon to give her a merciful death; he trusted Percival to protect all of them with his whole body and soul; and he trusted Merlin to absolutely crush Morgana with his magic. But it was only himself he trusted to offer her redemption if there was the slightest possibility she’d take it.
She had betrayed him in the worst way possible, but she was still his sister. He still had loved her very dearly. Once, he would have done anything to save her life. If there was any way he could still save her, even if it was from herself, he would do it with no hesitation.
Merlin had indicated where Morgana’s hut was situated and they were all there, with the addition of twenty knights and twice more soldiers. Morgana was supposed to still be recovering from her latest failed attack, but they didn’t want to take any chance.
They were circling her cabin now, and neither his hunter senses nor Merlin’s magical ones had detected anything untoward coming from inside. Whether it was a good or a bad thing, Arthur wasn’t so sure.
Arthur lifted his right arm and flicked his wrist. He held up four fingers and made a fist. Leon, Gwaine, Elyan and Percival got into position and Merlin looked at him in a very confused way.
‘We’re getting in,’ Arthur mouthed, hoping Merlin’s obtuseness concerning his hand-signals didn’t expand to reading on lips. This was not the time for Merlin, Great Warlock at the Camelot court, to behave like an idiot.
Merlin nodded and Arthur sighed in relief. He closed his eyes in concentration and, with one sharp gesture, gave the go-ahead.
Everything happened very fast. They charged the little cabin and were restraining Morgana before she could even lift her hands or utter a curse. Merlin’s eyes were glowing, which meant that he was doing something to keep her magic in check.
But before Arthur agreed to Gwaine’s unspoken request to finish her off, he had to say something, to talk to her and have this last confirmation that she couldn’t be redeemed.
As he was approaching her, as careful as with a wounded beast, he heard an unearthly cry above them, something animal and wretched that distracted him and the others enough to let Morgana the time to produce a blinding and deadly light.
It was coming towards Arthur, but Merlin was too, and the light hit Merlin right in the chest. Arthur didn’t hear himself scream Merlin’s name as he was projected a few feet back. All he could hear was the hut crumbling around them.
While he was trying not to lose consciousness and to get to Merlin, he saw what had produced the cry. It was landing inside the hut through the blown-off roof, huge and white, menacing claws coming first.
Arthur gripped Excalibur and threw it at what looked like the ghost of a dragon. His arm was too sluggish from the shock of Morgana’s curse and the sword reached the beast’s emplacement one second too late. The dragon-yes, it was a dragon-had already taken hold of Morgana and was flying away with another of its wretched cry.
Arthur tried to stand but stumbled. He crawled towards Merlin as fast as he could.
Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.
Arthur’s whole body hurt and he could see his faithful knights getting back on their feet and taking notice of their respective injuries. They didn’t seem too bad; they were all in one piece, with enough breath in their lungs to groan and moan. They looked all better than Merlin did.
When Arthur reached him, Merlin was paler than usual and his eyes were closed in pain, but he was breathing. He was breathing and Arthur could see no blood nor any sign of internal damage.
And then he opened his eyes and Arthur could see immediately the question there and the hope. But there was no hope anymore.
‘She’s gone, Merlin. Morgana escaped.’
Merlin didn’t answer; he just looked at Arthur with blank eyes and sweat drops rolling off his forehead.
‘Merlin? Merlin, are you all right? Can you hear me?’
Merlin shifted his head a little and Arthur was now close enough to see his imperceptible nod.
‘Can you talk, Merlin? Talk to me!’
Arthur knew he was not in a state a king should be, but he couldn’t help it. If he lost Merlin now, after losing Morgana, and his father, and his uncle…Arthur tried not to think about it. He pressed his head against Merlin’s limp body.
‘Please, Merlin, please…’ he whispered.
‘Don’t be a girl,’ Merlin said, his voice a little rough but as playful as it’d been all these mornings when it was still his task to wake Arthur up. ‘It’s not like I’m dead or anything…’
Arthur huffed, half in relief half in annoyance, and straightened up. When he looked into Merlin’s eyes again, he could see that despite his smile, Merlin was clearly still a bit in pain.
‘You could very well be dead,’ Arthur said seriously. ‘The thing Morgana hit you with blew up half her house. We need to get you to Gaius as soon as possible.’
Merlin’s lips turned down at this and he coughed a little before sitting up and saying, ‘I recognised the type of curse she hit me with. It is a slow-acting one, but there is nothing Gaius or anyone can do. I need to find Morgana and bring her back. She’s the only one who can…’ Merlin trailed off.
He was no doubt seeing Arthur’s aggravated expression, and maybe he could feel Arthur’s distress too, because he was soon concentrating his strength into gripping Arthur’s hand in his. ‘What’s wrong, Arthur? I can just use a localisation spell or something, I’ll be able to find her, don’t worry-’
Arthur was shaking his head now and he clutched Merlin’s hand harder. ‘She’s gone, Merlin. She-she flew away,’ he emphasised, as if doubtful Merlin would believe him. But Merlin was the sorcerer; there certainly were only a few things he wouldn’t believe. ‘She flew away with a white dragon. She could already be hours away, by now.’
Merlin didn’t look as alarmed as Arthur felt and he looked more like the complete idiot Arthur had always thought he was than like a supposedly almighty sorcerer. Sometimes Arthur really didn’t know if he wanted to protect Merlin with his life or tear him to pieces.
‘What now, Merlin?’
‘Well,’ Merlin said, as sheepishly as he could in his present state, ‘there’s one thing I still haven’t told you about my being a sorcerer…’
Arthur raised his eyebrows and tried to gather all the patience he had left in his body. He was really sick of secrets and of people he completely trusted not trusting him back.
‘I…I kind of have a dragon, too, and I may or may not be the last Dragonlord. Morgana’s got some kind of hold on Aithusa right now, but we can chase her easily.’
Arthur sighed again. He wouldn’t even ask what Aithusa was. Someday Merlin would really be the death of him. But he wasn’t completely useless, as he sensed Arthur’s irritation right away. Or maybe he was just used to it.
‘I can call the dragon right now and I’ll find Morgana in no time,’ Merlin hurried to say. ‘She must be very weak after the magic she just did-’
‘Nonsense, Merlin. You’re quite weak too, if you haven’t noticed. I’m obviously coming with you.’
‘But- You...you can’t! You’re the King! I might have to go very far away and you need to be in Camelot. You need to-’
‘Stop trying to decide what I need or not and just, for once in your lifetime, do what I order you. You’re not fit to travel on your own, hardly even fit to travel at all. We don’t know the effects the curse is going to have. You saved my life, Merlin, once again. I cannot stay here and wonder if you’re dead yet.’
Merlin didn’t seem to have heard Arthur’s sound arguments at all, though, and was keeping on protesting and spluttering, ‘But what about Gwen? She’s your wife! She needs you to be next to her, you can’t go on a chase around the world without-’
‘Guinevere doesn’t need me right now,’ Arthur cut in again. ‘I trust her to take care of the Kingdom while we’re away. You need me, Merlin. And I need to help you. Besides, I think she’d hold it against me if I didn’t do everything in my power to save you.’
Merlin stood up, smiled reluctantly and nodded. It was obvious that if Arthur hadn’t been his King, Merlin would have found a way to shake him off.
‘Very well, but I’ve got to warn you: travel by dragon is not the most comfortable, and you’d better not be whining about the state of your royal arse.’
Arthur lightly hit Merlin behind the head for the first time of their long travel.
~
The first thing Arthur sees upon entering Storybrooke is the black and white insignia of the Marine Garage in the distance. Thank God for small mercies, he was starting to doubt the town would be big enough to have a garage in it.
‘It seems luck’s with us after all, Merlin,’ he says, nudging Merlin with his elbow. ‘Maybe we’ll even be able to take the road again before the night.’
‘Are you serious?’ Merlin answers with the tone of someone who really doesn’t want Arthur to be serious. ‘Don’t you think we’ve been lost there long enough? I’d rather we don’t throw ourselves back into this American labyrinth anytime soon.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin! We’ll just have to ask local people for directions.’ Arthur knows he sounds a little too optimistic, but he really believes things will sort themselves out. Their Awesome Road Trip could resume very shortly and he’d rather go back to adventures and foreign discoveries than stay holed up in this tiny and boring-looking village.
Merlin doesn’t look too happy about it, but Arthur doesn’t worry. All right, maybe their trip hasn’t so far been as magical and exciting as he’d promised, but it is just a question of time. Once they are back on the right track, Merlin will be back to his joyous, smiling self. It is somehow very important to Arthur that Merlin would smile.
They have almost reached the garage when they get accosted by a blond woman with a frown. Well, maybe not accosted, exactly, but her frown is very prominent, so it does look a little threatening.
‘Hello,’ she says. Her tone is not cold, really, but it is not overly friendly either. ‘I’m the town’s sheriff. Can I help you both with anything?’
‘Hm, no, thanks, we were just going to-’
‘Where are you from?’ she cuts in. She looks less and less like she wants to help them in any way, and more like she suspects them of wanting to implant a drug cartel in her little town.
‘We’re from the UK actually,’ Arthur answers good-naturedly. There is no way he’ll let himself get intimidated by this girl. He even decides to go for the kill and plasters his patented Pendragon Dazzling Smile on his face.
It is very rare anyone can resist such a smile, but this town’s sheriff definitely does. Her frown only deepens and she doesn’t wait more to ask another question.
‘And what business exactly do you have in Storybrooke?’ she asks, not realising she’s supposed to be Pendragon-Dazzled. Arthur can see Merlin trying not to laugh in the corner of his eye. Stupid wanker. Well, at least he does smile now.
This doesn’t stop Arthur from feeling hurt. ‘And what business exactly does the sheriff have, interrogating innocent people like they’re common felons? Do you treat all your visitors like that?’
‘Well, actually,’ someone says in a very young voice. Arthur looks down and sees a little boy with brown hair standing next to the sheriff. Arthur wonders if he has been there the whole time. ‘There are never any visitors in Storybrooke.’
While the statement is a bit incongruous, the breathy quality of the child’s voice at least indicates that Arthur’s not crazy; the boy’s just run here and Arthur was too preoccupied with his own indignation to notice his arrival. Arthur wants to dismiss him and go on lashing out at this sheriff-woman, but of course soft-hearted (and most of the time soft-headed) Merlin has crouched next to the boy with an interested air.
‘What do you mean, there are never any visitors here? I see a Bed and Breakfast right there.’ Merlin points to the aforementioned building and Arthur wonders why Merlin even bothers discussing this point when they’ve got a blond sheriff scowling at them.
The woman seems to be on the same page as Arthur though, because when he looks up at her, he sees she’s looking at the boy the same way he must have been looking at Merlin: a little annoyed, but mostly fond. ‘Maybe we never get any visitors, Henry,’ she says to the child, ‘but these two gentlemen really seem to be just passing.’
Her last words are loaded with something very insistent that Arthur can’t decipher but that seems crystal clear to this Henry-boy. The latter raises his eyebrows half in surprise half in inquiry and Arthur decides he doesn’t have time for this.
‘Look here, I don’t care if you’re the sheriff or if this child his your deputy or whatnot, but I’ve got a car in a really bad state on the side of the road and all I want is to have your car mechanic take a look at it. Or maybe I need to fill out immigration papers to have the right to simply walk down your main street?’
Arthur knows getting angry won’t help his cause, but Henry just keeps looking at him with interest-and with absolutely no fear of the mad British man-so it mustn’t be too bad yet.
‘Are you really from abroad?’ Henry asks them, as if he has never known there is a world outside his town. Americans, Arthur thinks unkindly, rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses; these people really think they’re the beginning and the end to everything, don’t they?
Arthur wants to just ignore the boy’s question, but Merlin is still crouched next to Henry and seems to have decided to bond with the kid. ‘We’re from the UK, we swear,’ he says with an amused smile. ‘Can’t you hear it from our accent?’
This playful tone of Merlin’s really grates Arthur’s nerves without him really knowing why. Maybe it’s just that he wants Merlin to be on his side, to talk next to his face and to smile at him like he does right now. Why is the crinkle of Merlin’s eyes never addressed to Arthur?
‘Well, the accent doesn’t really mean anything,’ Henry says. ‘Mr Gold’s got a Scottish accent, but he’s been here as long as everybody.’
Arthur frowns and Merlin opens his mouth, no doubt to ask what Henry means exactly, but the blond sheriff says, ‘Henry!’ very sternly and after a brief sheepish look, the boy turns his attention to her.
They seem to communicate by looks for a full half-minute and Arthur wants to take an un-crouched Merlin by the elbow and just go to the garage, but the sheriff addresses them again.
‘There’s no problem for you to be here, of course,’ she says, looking into Arthur’s eyes but not really convincing him. ‘Marco will help you with the car. If you’ve got any problem, come to the police station, I’ll be sure to give you a hand.’
As if, Arthur thinks right away. The woman really doesn’t give him the impression that she’ll help them in any way-more that she’ll find any reason to put them behind bars.
‘I’m Henry, by the way,’ the kid says. ‘And this is Emma.’
Arthur thinks the presentations are coming a little late and he’s already angling his body to leave, but Merlin answers as if their interaction so far had been the perfect model of politeness. ‘I’m Merlin,’ he says, ‘and this is-’
And then this very, very weird thing happens: at the exact same time Merlin pronounces the word, Henry says ‘Arthur’ with a wide smile and a meaningful look towards Sheriff Emma. This makes her frown almost as much as it makes Arthur frown, but doesn’t seem to affect Merlin much.
Arthur really thought they were done with this useless questioning, but the sheriff, it seems, has one more thing to say.
‘And you say you’re English.’ She sounds half-doubtful, half like she wants to make a joke about their names.
Arthur wants to answer this one, and to be as cutting as he can in his answer, but Merlin cuts him off. ‘We said we were British, actually, not English. We come from Wales.’ His tone is as friendly as ever, but it seems to shock Emma more than it would have if Arthur had answered the question the way he wanted.
Arthur grabs Merlin by the arm and uses the sheriff’s distraction to make for the garage. He doesn’t pay Emma or Henry more attention, but he swears he can hear Henry say ‘Told you’ in a very knowing and annoying way.
Arthur doesn’t know how the kid knew his name and what he’s implying about them, and doesn’t want to know. Whatever Merlin might think, they’ll never be out of this town soon enough.
~
Merlin had actually no good reason not to want Arthur with him on this chase. This didn’t mean he didn’t have reasons at all.
Because riding a dragon might be uncomfortable for the reason he’d told Arthur-and Merlin had never felt his legs so sore riding Kilgharrah before-but riding a dragon with Arthur’s arms wrapped around him was even worse.
Merlin was trying very hard not to let himself sink into those arms, and it was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done (and he counted having to poison one of his best friends). He had known this would happen, that was why he didn’t want Arthur to come with him after Morgana, or on any quest.
Ever since Arthur had married Gwen, Merlin had tried his best to keep him at arm’s length. Because Merlin had always known Arthur wasn’t for him, but his marriage to Gwen made him forbidden.
And this made things really dangerous, because it just made Merlin want Arthur even more, which was completely irrational really, since Merlin had been one of the most fervent to root for Arthur and Gwen to marry as quickly as possible. He had sincerely thought that once they were married, his stupid crush on his King would resolve itself.
Arthur’s palms pressed against his sides just proved him once more that it hadn’t worked at all. It made Merlin feel even worse, because Gwen was his friend, and he really wanted to be happy for her and not to lust after her husband, not falling in love with him.
‘Are we getting closer?’ Arthur asked sharply, for what must have been the hundredth time.
Merlin would have snapped, or said something disparaging about Arthur behaving like a child, but the undertone in his voice was so worried that Merlin just answered as he always answered: ‘I’ll ask him.’
Kilgharrah had been, needless to say, very reluctant to let a Pendragon ride on his back. Merlin had been lucky enough to have the sense to remind the dragon that he couldn’t reasonably separate two sides of the same coin. One thing Kilgharrah hadn’t accepted to do though was to speak to Arthur. So much so that the king wasn’t even aware Kilgharrah understood human language.
‘Answer his question, then,’ Merlin said in dragon-tongue. ‘I’m quite tired of being your unnecessary interpret.’
Kilgharrah’s reaction felt almost like the dragon version of a chuckle, and all his body trembled. Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s waist and Merlin was tempted to kick the dragon on the flank. If only his legs didn’t feel so heavy right now.
‘It is my belief that you are tired from far more serious ailments, young warlock,’ Kilgharrah answered. ‘As for our target, we’re no longer as far as we’ve been. Aithusa might have found a way to escape his Dragonlord’s hold, but he is still a youngling, and my power exceeds his own.’
‘We’ll get to her soon,’ Merlin told Arthur, not worried how much of the dragon’s words got lost in translation.
Arthur relaxed his hold on Merlin somewhat, and Merlin could feel tension leaving his own body too. They’d been in this position for too long and he wished they could at least take some breaks to stretch their legs, but they hadn’t seen anything but water below them for a long time. Merlin wished Arthur’s breath on his neck didn’t feel so natural and that his presence behind him wasn’t so much like a second skin.
Even Merlin’s magic, which had been providing them with first necessities for the duration of their travel, was behaving with Arthur more comfortably than what was appropriate.
It was wrapping itself all around Arthur the same way Arthur’s arms were around Merlin when a sudden movement from Arthur jolted Merlin out of his daze. The movement-a sharp shake of his head-was soon followed by Arthur’s loud and enthusiastic voice: ‘Land! I can see land!’
Merlin looked down. He could see land, too, and how beautiful it was: great expanses of greens and greys and the warm browns of autumn. And if he squinted a little he could see something else too, a small stain of pure white on this explosion of colours.
‘Aithusa,’ Merlin said quietly.
‘I see him too, young warlock,’ Kilgharrah answered his untold question. ‘He must have tired of the long flight…’
‘Or maybe Morgana has reached her destination.’
Merlin was more scared of that than of anything, because it meant she had a plan, and wasn’t just acting wildly, doing everything she could to escape Emrys. It meant it could very well be a trap and Merlin didn’t have the upper hand as much as he would have liked.
And really, looking at things as they were now, with Merlin and Arthur in the air, in plain sight on a giant dragon, and Morgana hidden in the undergrowth of unknown lands, their only luck would be for Morgana not to notice they were following her. Merlin’s magic had absolutely no way to reach her. Arthur seemed to sense it too. Merlin could feel the muscles of Arthur’s arms and legs contracting the same way they were doing right before battle.
Merlin was going to say something, he didn’t know what-maybe something comforting, maybe a warning-when he got cut off by a flash of light flying just past them. It was only the sharp movement of Kilgharrah’s left wing that deflected it.
Merlin had recognised the light as the same curse he had been hit with back in Morgana’s hut, and hoped the dragon’s skin was thick enough to resist it.
All the hopes Merlin could have seemed foolish though, because the next curse came spiralling right to them and the only way for them to avoid being hit was either to jump off Kilgharrah’s back or-
Kilgharrah flipped abruptly, positioning his body as if standing on his hind legs on a cloud, and Merlin just had the time to utter a spell to allow them to keep their grip on the dragon before Kilgharrah was hit right in the centre of his big scaled belly.
Everything went too fast for Merlin to apprehend, then. Kilgharrah was not responsive anymore and they were hurled down by gravity and the force of the shock. Merlin’s magic was taking free reigns, slowing them, lightening them, and, mostly, checking that Arthur was all right and sticking him inalterably to Merlin’s back.
Merlin wasn’t sure it was enough though, because Morgana kept throwing her curses at them and Merlin could deflect some of them, but most ended up crashing against Kilgharrah’s scales, which didn’t help their situation at all.
When they finally hit the ground, it was almost a relief to no longer tumble in the air from one shock to the other. It was still painful though; they landed on trees and sharp rocks and even if Kilgharrah took the brunt of it all, Merlin could still feel blood wetting his tunic-his and Arthur’s. Merlin’s came from a long gash on the back of his left arm, and if the pain was intense, it was nothing next to the burning sensation he felt in all his articulations.
Merlin rolled from Kilgharrah’s back to the dirt and was tempted to let his eyes fall shut and his mind drift into oblivion.
But he wasn’t let the chance to get any rest. Only a few seconds passed before he was shaken by strong hands, Arthur’s panicked cries ringing inside his head.
Arthur’s face appeared in his field of vision and before the king’s shouting of ‘Merlin! Merlin! Merlin!’ could register, all Merlin could focus on was the huge amounts of blood running down the side of Arthur’s face and reddening his blond strands of hair.
Merlin sat up and cleared his head, and Arthur relaxed a little. The pain Merlin was feeling all over was dulling a little now, making every gesture more bearable.
Merlin reached for the magical strength he had left to clean and close Arthur’s head wound and as an answer to Arthur’s stern look, did the same to his own arm.
They both stood up after a little while and took in their surroundings.
Kilgharrah was lying on his side, his huge and limp form crushed against bent trees. He was completely unmoving. Even if Merlin had known there was no way for the dragon to survive the assault that had just happened, he still felt the deepest shock at the realisation that Kilgharrah wouldn’t be moving anymore.
Something cracked inside Merlin’s chest and even with Arthur standing just behind him, he felt a wave of loneliness crashing into him. Kilgharrah had been far from being a friend to Merlin, but had been a true ally and had died saving their lives-he’d always been there when Merlin needed him. Losing Kilgharrah was a little like losing hope.
Merlin approached his big snout and stroked it lightly. His dark eyes were still open, but depressingly expressionless.
Merlin closed his eyes and attempted to say something, but words-human and dragon words alike-stuck inside his throat.
‘Let’s go Merlin,’ Arthur said softly, after a little while.
And so they went.
~
‘You people were far closer from the town than you thought,’ the mechanic, whose name Merlin thinks is Marco, says with a smile. ‘Through the forest, we’re, I’d say, what? Five minutes from the town? And if you were coming this way, as you said, it seems you were more or less circling the town for some time, boys. It’s a wonder you didn’t find us sooner…’
This statement really doesn’t feel right with Merlin, and there’s an unease at the bottom of his stomach almost as bothering as the pain in his bones. It may or may not come from Arthur’s smug smile.
‘Incredible, Merlin! You managed to make us turn round and round.’
‘I did not!’ Merlin protests part because there’s no way he wouldn’t have noticed something so big and part because he has to disagree with Arthur when his tone is so conceited. ‘And you certainly didn’t realise anything either!’
‘No matter, Merlin. You were the one driving and supposed to pay attention to the road signs.’
Merlin splutters at Arthur’s hypocrisy, but it’s clear the only goal of Arthur’s insistence is to infuriate Merlin and watch him squirm, so he tries to ignore it.
‘After all these miles for nothing, you’ll be paying the fuel in full, next time we stop for gas,’ Arthur says with a playful tone, but very serious in his threat.
It’s more a question of principles than money, of course, and that’s what grates on Merlin’s nerves the most, because even when he’s wrong, Arthur always has to act so self-righteous about everything.
(Or maybe-maybe-what bothers Merlin more than anything is that despite how frustratingly annoying Arthur can be, Merlin still wants to kiss him more than he wants to punch him. And he wants to punch him a lot.)
‘What I can definitely tell you, boys,’ Marco the mechanic says, ignoring their bickering, ‘is that this car is not going to be able to drive you anywhere any time soon.’
‘What do you mean?’ Arthur demands importantly, and Merlin feels obligated to smile apologetically at Marco, because it sure sounds like Arthur’s accusing him for whatever happened to The Dragon.
‘What I mean, boy, is that the only way your car is salvageable is by changing the engine almost entirely. And this can take…what? At least one week for all the pieces to arrive, and minimum two full days of work for me to make sure your car is good to go. And keep in mind that I’ve got other things to do, too.’
Merlin sighs. He knows this kind of declaration won’t go well with Arthur and he’s not wrong: when he turns to him, Arthur has already brandished his phone and his stomping his foot angrily muttering about Americans and renting companies and bloody insurances. He doesn’t get to get into any rant though, because only a few seconds later, he snaps his Smartphone shut angrily and pushes it back inside his trousers’ pocket.
‘It seems as though we’re stuck here then, Merlin,’ Arthur says with gritted teeth and barely-controlled anger.
Fifteen minutes later, they’re at the town’s lone accommodation’s reception desk, and Arthur is ready to throw another fit.
‘What do you mean, you’ve got only one room left? The little kid told us you never got any visitors!’
Merlin sighs and tries to smile to the old lady as warmly as possible. It sure is going to be hard, managing to keep these people from throwing them out of the town, with the way Arthur is acting ever since they arrived.
‘No, we don’t get a lot of visitors, Sir,’ the lady-whose badge says Granny, but there’s no way Merlin can call her that without his own Gran turning in her grave-says with as much deference as Arthur is showing her (that is to say, not at all). ‘Hence the small number of rooms. And the other one is presently occupied, so you can share the one left or you can leave and stop wasting my time,’ she says with a threatening undertone that Merlin doesn’t like at all.
‘Oh, we’ll share, no problem!’ Merlin hurries to say, as conciliatory as possible, before Arthur can worsen their situation and make them sleep in their broken car.
Merlin doesn’t think his articulations could ever stand another night cramped in the cold, as sore as they already feel. There’s nothing he needs more than a good night sleep in a nice warm bed, and even if the prospect of lying inches from Arthur without being able to touch him is nightmarish, he owes it to his body.
The old lady smiles back at Merlin and hands him the key number two, completely ignoring Arthur as she informs Merlin about breakfast and check out time.
Merlin thanks her profusely and lets Arthur deal with most of the luggage. He considers that the prat owes him at least as much.
Merlin already has his head buried in one of the fluffiest pillow ever when Arthur brings the last backpack in the room and the last thing he hears before giving up to sleep is Arthur mentioning either a long shower or thong power.
He wakes up feeling stiff all over. His joints ache as much as before his nap, so there’s no surprise when he doesn’t manage to catch the take-away bag Arthur is throwing at him, resulting in a splatter of brown sauce on his favourite t-shirt. There’s not much more damage done, except maybe a rib Arthur is certainly cracking, what with his hysterical laughing.
Merlin sits up with difficulty and glares half-heartedly at Arthur, whose laughter finally dies down when he realises eating his daily gargantuan portion of food is more important than mocking Merlin.
‘You won’t sleep a wink tonight, Merlin. After such a long nap, you’ll fidget all night and keep me from sleeping,’ Arthur says between mouthfuls of meatballs sandwich, managing to still look distinguished despite his ogre-like diet.
Merlin unwraps his sandwich, careful of the spilt sauce, and he is too busy feeling pain with each move of his fingers to answer Arthur’s scolding. The prat is wrong anyway: there’s no way Merlin will be able to fidget during the night. All he wants right now is eating and going back to sleep.
‘I bought these at the diner. It’s owned by the same old hag as here, but she wasn’t there. Anyway, you should have seen it, Merlin: they all looked at me as if I was an alien invading their finest dining establishment. I think we’re the first foreigners they’ve seen in a very long time. My theory is they don’t have any telly here and we’re their sole entertainment. Maybe we should do something very foolish in public, just for their sake. Merlin, are you listening to me?’
Merlin glances up. Arthur has finished his sandwich and is looking at him half-worried, half-annoyed. Merlin only listened distractedly to his spiel, busy as he was swallowing a few mouthfuls of his sandwich, which is very tasty but feels impossible for his jaw to chew properly.
‘Are you all right, Merlin? Because you really don’t look it.’ Arthur’s tone is a hundred percent worried now, and even though he’s pleased to know he can provoke something else than annoyance and mockery in Arthur, Merlin’s bones hurt too much for him to enjoy the moment.
‘I’m just a bit under the weather, is all. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep,’ Merlin mumbles. He sets his sandwich on his bedside table, lays back down and closes his eyes, but he still feels as if each and every one of his bones is on fire.
‘You’re such a girl, Merlin,’ Arthur says with only a ghost of his usual derisive tone. Merlin can hear in his voice that it is just his attempt at making light of the situation.
There’s silence for a moment, the only sounds in the room Merlin’s louder-than-normal breath and a rustle of clothes, and then Merlin can feel the mattress dip next to him and Arthur’s warmth, soft against his back.
They’re both still for some time and then suddenly, Merlin can feel Arthur’s breath next to his ear. ‘You’ll be fine, won’t you, Merlin?’ His words are very quiet and for a moment Merlin is convinced that it’s only his imagination playing with him, but when the same voice adds a breathy, ‘You’d better be or I’ll leave you here to rot alone,’ Merlin definitely knows it’s real.
Merlin drifts off with Arthur’s reassuring arm against his back, and if it doesn’t take the pain away, at least it tries.
~
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