BROKEN, Part 2
Part One is here
Merlin, believing that he had come to Camelot to be a servant, asked Arthur if there were any duties he wanted him to perform. Arthur shook his head, saying, “You’re not recovered yet from a severe battle wound, and your hands are not up to laundry or scrubbing. I want you to rest today. Gaius will come by to examine you later this morning. For now, I’ll send Gwaine to keep you company. ”
Arthur fought down the flash of jealousy that he felt when Merlin’s face lightened at the prospect of a morning with Gwaine.
He trusted that Gwaine would stay within the proper boundaries. Merlin was sick in body and mind, and Gwaine had his own brand of honor, and he wouldn’t cross that line.
Besides, Gwaine was well aware that if he ever touched Merlin inappropriately, Arthur would run him through.
He found some books that Merlin had enjoyed reading in the last few months, and left him with those as well as some parchment and a quill. Before he left, he gestured for the guards to enter the room and another pair to guard the door. Gwaine gave him an exaggerated eye roll, which made Arthur angry. He took him aside and hissed, “Are you immune to magic now, Gwaine?”
“I’m not afraid of Merlin,” Gwaine hissed back.
“The more fool you,” was Arthur’s response. “The guards stay.”
He gathered his most trusted councilors at his big round table. Gwaine wasn’t much of a planner, he was a man of action, so Arthur felt comfortable leaving him out of the meeting.
Leon was there, and Lance, and Gwen. He needed her insights about Merlin, who had been one of the people closest to her since he’d first come to Camelot. Gaius arrived, looking exhausted, and Arthur knew that the old man had stayed up far too late doing medical and magical research on how to help Merlin.
They all looked grave as Arthur described Merlin’s behavior during the night, and Arthur concluded, “We have to bring this to an end as soon as possible. I left him writing a letter to his mother.”
Gwen gasped in sympathy, and the men exchanged glances full of concern for Merlin.
“All right, I need thoughts on how to proceed from here. Gaius, what have you found out? What treatment do you recommend?”
Gaius spoke slowly. “He seems to exhibit some of the behaviors of people who have cracked under great stress- apathy, withdrawal, melancholia. The hallucinations may be a different matter. He could have been poisoned somehow, or had a spell put on him that addled his brain. Or… ,” he hesitated.
Arthur tried to not snap at the older man, who loved Merlin like a son. “Just say it, Gaius.”
“Sire, there is a type of illness that comes on in young people, usually somewhere between the beginning of adolescence and the mid- twenties. It is characterized by hearing voices, by visual hallucinations, and by odd sensations such as the feeling of insects crawling on the skin. ” He hesitated and then said, “If this is the affliction Merlin suffers from, it might have somehow been precipitated by the mistreatment he received. Merlin is twenty-nine, he is a bit older than the usual age for the onset of this malady, but I have seen cases of the disease developing later.”
This time Arthur did allow sharpness to enter his voice. “I know how old he is. I threw a feast in honor of his birthday last Beltane.”
He would have said more, but they heard running footsteps at the door. A member of the household guard burst into the room. “Sire, it’s Lord Merlin. You must come.”
Arthur was out of his chair and sprinting across the room before the guard had finished his sentence, with the others at his heels, Gwen picking up her skirts so she could run faster.
They all burst into Arthur’s chambers, Arthur in the lead, to see a very scary tableau unfolding.
Gwaine was sitting on the floor, holding his head and looking like he’d taken a hard hit. Obviously, Merlin had overpowered him with magic, since he could never have done it by physical strength alone. Merlin was sitting in the open window, perched precariously half in and half out. His legs dangled toward the room, but his upper body was twisted so that he could take a head-first dive. There were three guards in a circle with swords drawn and pointed at Merlin, about three feet away from him. Merlin looked scared, like he wasn’t positive he wanted to jump but just might do it anyway.
“Put your weapons down, you fools,” Arthur barked out. He pushed his way through them, and time seemed to slow as he locked eyes with Merlin. It felt like they were the only people in the room.
Praying to the gods of all religions, old and new, Arthur put out a hand in supplication. “Merlin, you don’t want to do this. We’re three stories up. Chances are good the fall would kill you, but it might just cripple you for life. Think about that. Why don’t you just get down from there and we’ll talk?”
“Talking doesn’t help,” Merlin said sadly, looking back.
“You haven’t really tried it yet. I’ve only had a few dozen words out of you. You could try talking to Gaius, you know.” Arthur scrabbled for the right thing to say to calm Merlin. “You can trust Gaius. Hunith entrusted you and your secret to him, didn’t she?”
Out of his peripheral vision he caught a slight movement from Gwaine. He kept talking, his voice calm. “If your mother trusted him, don’t you think you should, too? He’s a physician…”
Arthur stopped mid-sentence when he saw Gwaine lunge for the window and grab Merlin’s ankle, pulling him down. He helped Gwaine wrestle Merlin to the ground, pinning his arms so he couldn’t use his hands to cast a spell.
But Arthur knew better than anyone that Merlin didn’t need his hands to do magic.
As soon as he saw Merlin’s eyes glow gold, he punched him in the temple, hard.
Lance helped Arthur to his feet, and he looked down at the unconscious form of the man he loved.
“Take him to the dungeons, and put him in iron chains,” he commanded. He hoped he didn’t sound as wrecked as he felt.
*****
The meeting reconvened once Merlin had been carried off. He’d ordered Gwaine to see to it that Merlin was secured and then to join them, and when he did, he looked subdued and lacked his usual swagger.
When Arthur motioned for him to sit down, he stayed on his feet and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, sire. He seemed glad to see me, and we were talking and playing dice, and out of nowhere he attacked me.” He finally raised his eyes, looking sick at heart, and said, “You entrusted him to my care, and I let you down. I should have been more careful.”
Arthur shrugged. “It’s hard to be distrustful of someone who seems so familiar. But we all have to remember that we are not dealing with our Merlin. Fortunately, no lasting harm was done.” But they both knew that if Merlin had plunged to his death, Arthur would neither have forgotten nor forgiven.
And that applied to Gwaine, and to Arthur himself.
Gaius was outlining a plan to treat Merlin with herbs for clarity of mind, such as sage and rosemary, and valerian to help with his sadness. Arthur was willing to try anything, but it seemed unlikely that herbs alone could cure such a severe mental imbalance.
Leon had seemed lost in thought while Gaius was talking, and he spoke at the first opportunity. “I have heard of cases where torture or severe duress has made a man lose his memory and revert to a babbling infant. But Merlin was never weak-minded. He seemed so much stronger than that.”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was deep in concentration. Finally he said, “I think we have to remember that while a skilled torturer will always be able to break any man, given enough time, Merlin is more than just a man. He has powerful magic at his disposal, and mind control disciplines that he learned from the Druids. Even if they were able to keep him from using his magic, he still would have inner resources to fight them with.” He looked around the room. “Let’s start at the beginning, even if it seems obvious. What would be the motivation for taking him?”
“He’s the most powerful sorcerer in Albion, and the Mercian king hoped to gain his power for himself,” Lance answered promptly.
“He has strategic information about Camelot’s defenses and future plans, which could be very valuable to enemies of Camelot,” was Leon’s response.
Gwaine said what no one else wanted to say. “It’s an open secret that he shares your bed.” He saw Gaius wince, and added, “I’m sorry for being indelicate, Gaius. But it’s Merlin’s life and sanity at stake here, and there’s no point in beating around the bush. He might have been kidnaped solely to hurt Arthur, by someone who has a personal grudge against him.”
Arthur did his best to synthesize the answers into a single picture. “So let’s say he was taken by someone who hoped to personally hurt me through him, but also hoped to use his knowledge and his power to win Camelot and remove me from the throne.”
Arthur continued to think out loud. “It would take a very powerful sorcerer to create the illusion that he was me, right down to looking and sounding and even smelling like me. And assuming that Merlin did not lose his memory under the stress of torture, it would take a very powerful sorcerer to wipe his mind clean like that, to erase all traces of his life in Camelot and take him back to the age of eighteen.”
Leon cut in. “Mercia is known to have sorcerers, but their magic is primarily battle magic, and Merlin always said that it was not particularly impressive. I have never heard that they have a sorcerer who even approaches Merlin’s skill.”
Gaius said gravely, “Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived. There is only one other who holds a faint candle to him.”
It was clear from the quick glances around the table that everyone knew who Gaius was talking about. They had lost track of Mordred two years ago, and some of them had hoped he was dead, but Merlin had always been certain that he was still out there somewhere, plotting against Arthur.
Arthur was still struggling to come up with a theory for what had happened to Merlin. “What is the single most outstanding thing about Merlin, something that everyone in the Five Kingdoms knows about him?”
“That he is absolutely loyal to you,” Lance answered.
Arthur always seemed to think better on his feet, and without realizing it he was up and pacing around the table. “And if Merlin thought that he could save my throne by sacrificing himself, would he do it?”
Gwaine drawled out, “I assume that’s what you well-educated types call a rhetorical question?”
“So let’s say Merlin was captured, wounded, in pain, not by any means at the top of his game…” Arthur continued. “He’s being mistreated, there’s at least some torture, so maybe he thinks the best way to protect me is to not know anything about Camelot’s defenses…”
Gwen was the first to grasp his train of thought. “So he takes himself back to the time before he arrived at Camelot, so he would still be Merlin, but would not know anything that could be used against you.”
Leon looked stunned. “So you think the sorcerer who did this to Merlin is Merlin himself?”
“I think we need to explore that possibility,” Arthur said grimly. “Gaius and Lance, come with me. I think it’s time to see what young Merlin has to say for himself.”
*****
Merlin was in a cell in the dungeon, but it wasn’t like the old days when he would get pitched into a room holding nothing but a pile of straw and a thin blanket. He was huddled on a cot, but it was piled with blankets and furs, and there was a small fire in a brazier just outside the bars to take the chill off the damp stone walls.
He looked up when the guard unlocked the entrance, and Arthur pushed back the emotions that flared up when he saw Merlin with iron chains looped around his wrists and a thin iron collar around his neck. It was all Arthur could do to keep from reaching out to him, to comfort him and order the chains removed. But that wouldn’t help Merlin in the long run, and getting the Merlin he knew back was Arthur’s first priority.
Merlin shot him a resentful look and turned his face to the wall.
“None of that, Merlin. It’s time you and I had a conversation,” Arthur said firmly.
“You put me in iron chains. I can’t feel my magic, and it hurts.”
“And you attacked Gwaine, a man who would cheerfully die for you, and tried to harm yourself. You gave me no choice.”
“You could let me go. Of what importance to you is some youth from Ealdor?” Merlin was getting angry, and he sat up straight. “And while we’re on the subject, why am I wearing such rich clothing? And why are you so insistent that I sleep in your chambers? Am I your bed slave?”
“Hardly. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. I need you to tell me, what is the last thing you remember?”
Merlin’s voice took on a rote quality, as if he had repeated the story often, although he had not done so in Camelot. “I bade my mother farewell, and set out for Camelot on foot, with my backpack and a bedroll. I was looking for a position with Gaius, the court physician, who was a friend of my mother’s.”
Arthur let his voice get sharper. “I didn’t ask you what the story you told for three weeks was. I asked you what the last thing you remember is. Think, Merlin. It’s your only chance of getting better.”
Merlin’s mouth was set in a stubborn line, and Arthur could see his chance of getting anything from him slipping away. He was considering yelling (because that always works with Merlin, great plan, Arthur) when Lance touched his arm to get his attention and spoke to him in a low, urgent voice. “Arthur, could you let me try something? It’s something I saw in my travels in the East.”
Arthur shrugged. It was worth a try.
Lance said, “Gaius and I will need some time to prepare,” and he had a whispered consultation with the physician. A servant was sent to fetch the necessary items from Gaius’s workroom, as Merlin and Arthur eyed each other unhappily.
The servant returned with a hot drink for Merlin, which he was reluctant to take. But Gaius said, “It contains something to relax you, but it will not make you unconscious or harm you in any way. You have my promise of that.” Something of Gaius’s concern for him must have breached Merlin’s defenses, because he took a cautious sip and then another, and over the next five minutes drank the whole cup.
Lance also lit some incense that Gaius said had been enchanted by Merlin to have a beneficial effect on the sick, and the air filled with its sweet resinous scent.
Finally, Lance knelt in front of Merlin and said, “I want to try something that might help you remember. It won’t hurt. Will you try it with me?”
Merlin nodded, and Arthur took a deep breath and tried to control his hurt that Merlin was responding to Lance better than to him. The two had always been close, and Arthur knew that Merlin was still reacting to the illusionary Arthur who had mistreated him, but still…
Arthur resolutely turned his thoughts away from the path they were treading and concentrated on the matter at hand.
Lance’s voice was low and soothing as he said, “Close your eyes, and think of a place that you like very much, someplace that has happy memories for you.” Merlin obediently closed his eyes, and after a minute or two Arthur could see some of the tension leaving his face.
“Where are you, Merlin?”
“The swimming hole by Ealdor. Will and I used to spend all our free time there, in the summers, swimming or lying on the bank in the sun and talking.”
“That’s good, very good,” Lance said. “You’re at the swimming hole, and you’re safe, and no one can hurt you. It’s warm, and the sun is shining, and you’re happy. And if you remember something that frightens or distresses you, just step back from the memory and remember how the sun feels on your skin. Can you do that?”
Merlin nodded. He seemed to be lulled into a different state by Lance’s calm voice.
Lance said, “Tell us what you remember about your imprisonment. But remember it isn’t happening to you right now. Just try to watch it as if you were an outsider and you are not involved in it.”
Merlin closed his eyes and was quiet for a minute. Then he started speaking, slowly. “I remember being afraid. Very afraid. I remember wanting some water and he told me I couldn’t have any until I told him things. I told him I didn’t know anything. And then he kept hurting me.”
“What kinds of things did he want to know?” Lance asked softly.
“He wanted to know about Excalibur, and he wanted to know about the secret tunnels underneath the castle and where the entrance was and where they led. And he wanted to know what kind of magical protection and wards I had around Camelot and the King.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about.” Merlin shuddered. “And then he got out a very small knife and slid it under my fingernails and I screamed and screamed until I was hoarse and he did them one at a time and then I think I fainted.”
“Calm down, Merlin. You’re safe, and you’re at the swimming hole, and Will is there.”
Merlin smiled, and he looked soft and young, like he really was an eighteen year old. “Will is my best friend. He always has my back.”
That cost Arthur a pang. He remembered Merlin’s grief at Will’s death, and how ungiving he had been in the face of that grief. He remembered his harsh words, “You should have told me, Merlin.”
He snapped back to the present when Lance said, “And when you told him that you had no idea what he was talking about, was it true?”
“Yes!” Merlin’s sincerity was beyond question. “I don’t know what Excalibur is, and I don’t know anything about the castle, and I don’t even know any spells.” His voice was growing ragged with emotion. “I have magic, but mostly it’s a huge disaster and it gets me in trouble and I can’t even control it very well.”
Lance’s voice got even lower and more hypnotic, and he said, “It’s all right, we’re almost done. You’re doing really well. I only have one more question, and I want you to just tell me the first thing that comes into your mind.”
He paused, and put his hand on top of Merlin’s where it was resting on the fur covering of the cot.
“Why didn’t you know anything about Arthur and Camelot?”
“I locked it up in my mind and threw away the key.”
*****
Merlin was exhausted by the time the conversation was over, so he curled up on the cot and slept. Leon and Gwaine had joined them in the cell by then, and they talked in low tones so they wouldn’t disturb him.
“So Merlin did this to himself? Clever man.” Gwaine said proudly. “He protected Camelot by making absolutely certain that he couldn’t reveal anything.”
“Not so clever if we never get him back,” Leon pointed out.
“We’re getting him back,” Arthur said grimly. It was unthinkable that the life he’d shared with Merlin could simply be gone.
Gaius was trying to walk through the implications. “So if Merlin became younger and untrained in magic, he was unable to defend himself against Mordred’s illusions. And not just about Arthur. Mordred has become a vicious creature, and he probably planted the thoughts about the insects and self-harm just to be cruel.”
“He’s known to have a hatred for you, Sire,” Lance added. “And what better way to hurt you than by wrecking the mind of someone who is dear to you?”
Arthur was already on the next step. “All right, we know that Merlin used magic to shut off his memories. What can be done to reverse it?”
“He needs to call a dragon to heal him. A magical illness of the mind will only respond to a magical cure.” Gaius answered instantly. “And if Kilgarrah was able to cure Merlin of the Serkit bite and bring Morgana back from the point of death, he could certainly restore Merlin’s mind.”
Leon glanced back to make sure that Merlin was still asleep. “He doesn’t know he’s a dragonlord. Who will call the dragon for him?”
Arthur had never been more certain of anything in his life. “He and I will call the dragon together.”
*****
They waited until Merlin woke up, because Gaius said that sleeping was good for him, and then Arthur ordered the chains removed, and he and Merlin rode out with Leon and Gwaine and Lance. Gaius had wanted to come, but Arthur dissuaded him by promising that they would bring Merlin straight back when it was over. It was dark by then, which suited Arthur’s purposes. Dragons avoided the daylight.
When they reached the clearing where Merlin always summoned Kilgarrah and Aithusa, Arthur and Merlin left the others with the horses at the edge where the woods ended. Horses were notorious for disliking dragons, and Arthur did not want his knights to overhear what he was about to say to Merlin.
Merlin didn’t seem so distrustful of Arthur now, but Arthur took care not to touch him or get too close.
When they had walked to the center of the clearing, Merlin said, “I don’t know why we’re here. I know nothing about dragons, I’ve never seen one, and I certainly don’t know how to call one to me like a favorite dog.”
“When the time comes, you will know what to do. For right now, I hope that you will listen to me with an open mind.”
Merlin didn’t agree, but he didn’t protest either, and Arthur took that as good enough.
There was only a faint moon, and Arthur wanted to be able to really see Merlin, so he gave an order.
“Hold out your hand and say, ‘Accendo.’”
Merlin did as he was told, and broke out in a delighted grin when a large ball of light appeared, bright enough that the whole clearing was illuminated. “I had no idea I could do that,” he said in a tone of wonder.
“That’s just the tiniest part of what you can do,” Arthur answered. “Now, I am going to tell you who you are, and who you are to me.”
Merlin said warily, “I’m listening.”
“You came here eleven years ago and almost immediately saved my life, and my father gave you the position as my manservant. We didn’t care for each other much at first, but eventually we became friends, and you were convinced by the dragon Kilgarrah that our destinies lay together. He told you we were two sides of the same coin.”
Merlin frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“Hush. I’m telling you the story of your life. You were afraid to tell me about your magic because of my father’s hatred of anything magical, and because your mother had told you from toddlerhood that concealing it was a life or death matter, so you hid it from me for the first five years you were in Camelot. When you told me, I was very angry at first, but we worked through it. You are my official court sorcerer, and I would not still be king of Camelot if you had not been here. As you are fond of telling me, you’ve saved my royal backside countless times.”
Merlin seemed to like that idea, if the small smile he gave Arthur was any indication.
Arthur steeled himself for the harder part of what he needed to do.
“You prefer the company of men to women. You were in a relationship with another man for a year or two, but eventually we realized that we loved each other in all senses, physically as well as emotionally. We have been together ever since, and the whole court knows that you are my consort.”
Merlin sputtered. “But… but what about Gwen? She’s so… perfect.”
“She is perfect. She’s kind and wise and an invaluable councilor to me, and the people love her. But it’s a marriage in name only. I needed a queen to appease my courtiers and my advisers, and to run my household and be my official hostess. But she and I have never shared a bed. I occasionally spend the night in her rooms, but it’s only for form’s sake. And if she gives me a son or daughter, it will be my heir, but Lancelot’s child.”
“You don’t care about having a legitimate heir?”
“Not as much as I care about you.”
Merlin looked like he’d been pole-axed, with his eyes wide and his jaw dropped open. Arthur reached out and ran his thumb along Merlin’s lower lip and teased, “Close your mouth. It isn’t an attractive look on you.”
Merlin did as he was told, but he still looked stunned. Then he slowly said, “Ohhhh…. I guess that explains why I had those strange feelings about you.”
“Yes, that explains it. And I’m happy to know that you have feelings about me, strange or otherwise.”
Arthur grew serious. “You and I have made vows to each other. I will have none other than you, for the rest of my life. And you have sworn fealty to me, and promised to obey all of my commands.” He took Merlin’s hands in his own, and gazed intently into his eyes. “I am commanding you. Call the dragon.”
Merlin whispered, “I don’t know how.”
Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hands, and dropped to his knees. He looked up at Merlin with all the love and trust of their years together, and said, “Husband. Call the dragon.”
And Merlin did.
*****
The guttural tones of Merlin’s dragonspeak had just finished echoing through the clearing when it became filled with the sound of beating wings, so loud that Arthur had to fight back the urge to cover his ears with his hands.
He watched in awe as not one but two dragons landed a few yards from them.
Arthur had been introduced to Kilgarrah before, and Merlin had told him about Aithusa and that he was a powerful good omen for the future he and Merlin would create together. But nothing had prepared him for the magnificent sight of two huge beasts bowing their heads in homage to Merlin.
Kilgarrah was powerful and scary, with a human-like face that Arthur privately thought was creepy on a giant lizard. Aithusa was smaller, not fully grown yet, and solid white with blue eyes. He had a playful air that stood out in contrast to Kilgarrah’s look of concern.
Aithusa greeted Merlin enthusiastically. “Master! I am so happy to see you! Can I take you for a ride?”
Kilgarrah silenced Aithusa with a look, and said to him, “Not now, hatchling. Our dragonlord is troubled.” He seemed to study Merlin intently. Arthur moved a bit closer to Merlin, his hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case. His mind knew that the last two dragons on earth were allies of his kingdom, but his body still carried his childhood fear of them.
And he had not forgotten the deaths and destruction caused by Kilgarrah’s attack on Camelot in the last years of his father’s reign.
After long moments, Kilgarrah spoke. “Young warlock,” he said, once again inclining his head respectfully to Merlin. “Why have you summoned us?”
Merlin didn’t seem afraid. He supposed it was the same phenomenon as with the knights, that Merlin knew their faces even though he didn’t know who they were.
Merlin spoke, quietly but confidently. “I am ill. I was captured and tortured by Mordred. Gaius and Arthur say that I have wiped my mind clean of my memories to protect Camelot, and I am troubled by visions of things that are not real. They tell me that I am a dragonlord, and that my father was one before me, but I remember none of this. Can you heal me?”
Aithusa squeaked at the mention of Mordred, and Kilgarrah looked grave. “We will assist you, young warlock,” he responded solemnly. “You and Arthur Pendragon have a great destiny ahead of you. Your names will still be spoken in a thousand years. But you cannot fulfill your destiny in your current state. You were wise to come to us for help.”
The two dragons consulted quietly in their own language, and then Kilgarrah jerked his head toward a large rock and said, “Sit, dragonlord, and your king with you. We will begin.”
They sat on the rock, their legs touching, and Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist. Kilgarrah began incanting words in a low hum, and Aithusa joined in with his higher voice. The incantation became more like a song, and soon the air around them was filled with the sound of hundreds of beautiful voices, male and female, and somehow Arthur knew that dragons past and present had gathered to heal Merlin.
Arthur dragged his attention from the sight of Kilgarrah and Aithusa, bent over singing to Merlin like a mother would sing to her child in its cradle, and took a look at Merlin. Merlin’s eyes were closed, and his face had a peaceful, rapt expression.
The beautiful sound continued for long minutes, and when it ended Merlin opened his eyes and the magical creatures bowed to him once more.
Kilgarrah spoke to Merlin. “You are healthy in your mind once again, young warlock.” Then he turned to Arthur with what could only be described as a smirk. “I have restored his memories in all respects but one. All of his memories will be his again in twenty-four hours. You can thank me later.”
The dragons launched themselves into the sky, shaking the trees around the clearing, and Aithusa turned and called to Merlin, “Goodbye, Lord Merlin, we will meet again,” as Merlin waved at him.
Merlin turned to Arthur with a sweet smile, his eyes revealing the man of twenty-nine and not the boy of eighteen. They embraced wordlessly, holding each other tight.
Finally Merlin pulled away, and said, “My mother is gone.”
“Yes, she is. I’m sorry.”
They walked back to the knights, Arthur’s arm looped around Merlin’s neck in an affectionate half hug, pulling him close to his side. Right where he belonged.
*****
Arthur had kept his promise to Gaius to let him examine Merlin when he returned, but he smiled to himself as Merlin convincingly feigned tiredness and quickly cut short the procedure.
Finally they were alone in Arthur’s chambers, and Arthur fully intended to extend a good “welcome home” to the man he hadn’t made love to in more than three weeks.
He reached for Merlin’s velvet jacket and started unbuttoning the small buttons down the center. When the jacket was off, he pulled Merlin’s loose linen shirt over his head, running his fingers along the healing wound on his chest. “Are you well enough for me to take you to bed?” he asked huskily.
“Always,” Merlin said, but there was a note of false bravado in his voice that Arthur noticed.
Arthur pulled off his own shirt and started unfastening his trousers, toeing off his boots at the same time. He was a man on a mission. But he wasn’t going to let the slightly off tone of Merlin’s voice go unremarked.
He put his hands on Merlin’s bare shoulders, and said, “Merlin. What’s wrong?”
Merlin blushed and looked down, but Arthur cupped the side of his face with his palm (his cheekbones were very sharp, Arthur would have to have a word with the kitchens about fattening Merlin up) and said, “Please tell me.”
Merlin dared a look, and said softly, “I know that we’re longtime lovers. But I have no memory of the actual physical acts.” He blushed even deeper and murmured. “I, um, I feel like I’ve never done this before.”
Arthur gave him a predatory smile. “I will take very good care of you. In fact, you are going to love every moment of this.”
“I see the trauma of losing me hasn’t affected your ego, Sire.”
“If it’s true it isn’t bragging,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s ear, making the words sound absolutely filthy.
Arthur lay down on the bed, still wearing his trousers and socks, and smiled up at Merlin. “C’mere,” he said softly.
Merlin sat next to him, looking uneasy, and Arthur said, “Here’s something you may not know. Your magic has always liked me. In fact, some days your magic likes me better than you do. Your magic will do just about anything to make me happy.”
He lifted Merlin’s left hand to his lips, and kissed each finger, starting with the thumb and working his way to the little finger. As Arthur kissed each one in turn, the blackened fingernail became pink and healthy, and the lingering pain disappeared.
Merlin looked at him in awe. “Do you have magic?”
“Not an iota,” Arthur answered cheerfully. “But you do, and as I told you, your magic wants me to be happy, and it knows that I am unhappy when you are injured. So it fixed your fingers to please me. Now give me your other hand.”
Arthur pressed five more kisses on five more fingers, and they were instantly healthy again. He gently licked his way up the messy scar on Merlin’s side, and it disappeared, leaving Merlin’s skin white and unscarred.
“So that’s how you got me to call the dragon, you simply wished it?” Merlin asked in a tone of wonder.
“It’s not quite that simple, but that’s basically it. When I want something very badly, your magic tries hard to give it to me. It isn’t infallible, but I gambled that your magic’s desire to please me would trump your memory loss. And I was right.”
“You don’t have to sound so smug,” Merlin complained. “In fact, I think you can put that mouth to much better use than blathering on about how great you are.”
“Is that so?” Arthur said casually, just before grabbing Merlin’s arm and neatly flipping him onto his back.
Merlin was unable to answer the question because he had some great egoist’s tongue down his throat.
Arthur had always cherished his memories of his first time with Merlin. Merlin had been incredible, passionate and skilled and insatiable. He’d even had to grudgingly acknowledge (but only to himself) that Gwaine may have taught Merlin a few tricks worth knowing.
But this Merlin was something else entirely. Sweet and virginal, he moaned the first time Arthur sucked on his nipple. He yelped when Arthur reached into his trousers and palmed his cock. And he screamed and pulled Arthur’s hair when he came down his throat.
Later, Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s thick hair and smiled as he remembered that Merlin had another eighteen hours of “firsts” in front of him.
“Get some sleep, my love,” he murmured. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”
Merlin, believing that he had come to Camelot to be a servant, asked Arthur if there were any duties he wanted him to perform. Arthur shook his head, saying, “You’re not recovered yet from a severe battle wound, and your hands are not up to laundry or scrubbing. I want you to rest today. Gaius will come by to examine you later this morning. For now, I’ll send Gwaine to keep you company. ”
Arthur fought down the flash of jealousy that he felt when Merlin’s face lightened at the prospect of a morning with Gwaine.
He trusted that Gwaine would stay within the proper boundaries. Merlin was sick in body and mind, and Gwaine had his own brand of honor, and he wouldn’t cross that line.
Besides, Gwaine was well aware that if he ever touched Merlin inappropriately, Arthur would run him through.
He found some books that Merlin had enjoyed reading in the last few months, and left him with those as well as some parchment and a quill. Before he left, he gestured for the guards to enter the room and another pair to guard the door. Gwaine gave him an exaggerated eye roll, which made Arthur angry. He took him aside and hissed, “Are you immune to magic now, Gwaine?”
“I’m not afraid of Merlin,” Gwaine hissed back.
“The more fool you,” was Arthur’s response. “The guards stay.”
He gathered his most trusted councilors at his big round table. Gwaine wasn’t much of a planner, he was a man of action, so Arthur felt comfortable leaving him out of the meeting.
Leon was there, and Lance, and Gwen. He needed her insights about Merlin, who had been one of the people closest to her since he’d first come to Camelot. Gaius arrived, looking exhausted, and Arthur knew that the old man had stayed up far too late doing medical and magical research on how to help Merlin.
They all looked grave as Arthur described Merlin’s behavior during the night, and Arthur concluded, “We have to bring this to an end as soon as possible. I left him writing a letter to his mother.”
Gwen gasped in sympathy, and the men exchanged glances full of concern for Merlin.
“All right, I need thoughts on how to proceed from here. Gaius, what have you found out? What treatment do you recommend?”
Gaius spoke slowly. “He seems to exhibit some of the behaviors of people who have cracked under great stress- apathy, withdrawal, melancholia. The hallucinations may be a different matter. He could have been poisoned somehow, or had a spell put on him that addled his brain. Or… ,” he hesitated.
Arthur tried to not snap at the older man, who loved Merlin like a son. “Just say it, Gaius.”
“Sire, there is a type of illness that comes on in young people, usually somewhere between the beginning of adolescence and the mid- twenties. It is characterized by hearing voices, by visual hallucinations, and by odd sensations such as the feeling of insects crawling on the skin. ” He hesitated and then said, “If this is the affliction Merlin suffers from, it might have somehow been precipitated by the mistreatment he received. Merlin is twenty-nine, he is a bit older than the usual age for the onset of this malady, but I have seen cases of the disease developing later.”
This time Arthur did allow sharpness to enter his voice. “I know how old he is. I threw a feast in honor of his birthday last Beltane.”
He would have said more, but they heard running footsteps at the door. A member of the household guard burst into the room. “Sire, it’s Lord Merlin. You must come.”
Arthur was out of his chair and sprinting across the room before the guard had finished his sentence, with the others at his heels, Gwen picking up her skirts so she could run faster.
They all burst into Arthur’s chambers, Arthur in the lead, to see a very scary tableau unfolding.
Gwaine was sitting on the floor, holding his head and looking like he’d taken a hard hit. Obviously, Merlin had overpowered him with magic, since he could never have done it by physical strength alone. Merlin was sitting in the open window, perched precariously half in and half out. His legs dangled toward the room, but his upper body was twisted so that he could take a head-first dive. There were three guards in a circle with swords drawn and pointed at Merlin, about three feet away from him. Merlin looked scared, like he wasn’t positive he wanted to jump but just might do it anyway.
“Put your weapons down, you fools,” Arthur barked out. He pushed his way through them, and time seemed to slow as he locked eyes with Merlin. It felt like they were the only people in the room.
Praying to the gods of all religions, old and new, Arthur put out a hand in supplication. “Merlin, you don’t want to do this. We’re three stories up. Chances are good the fall would kill you, but it might just cripple you for life. Think about that. Why don’t you just get down from there and we’ll talk?”
“Talking doesn’t help,” Merlin said sadly, looking back.
“You haven’t really tried it yet. I’ve only had a few dozen words out of you. You could try talking to Gaius, you know.” Arthur scrabbled for the right thing to say to calm Merlin. “You can trust Gaius. Hunith entrusted you and your secret to him, didn’t she?”
Out of his peripheral vision he caught a slight movement from Gwaine. He kept talking, his voice calm. “If your mother trusted him, don’t you think you should, too? He’s a physician…”
Arthur stopped mid-sentence when he saw Gwaine lunge for the window and grab Merlin’s ankle, pulling him down. He helped Gwaine wrestle Merlin to the ground, pinning his arms so he couldn’t use his hands to cast a spell.
But Arthur knew better than anyone that Merlin didn’t need his hands to do magic.
As soon as he saw Merlin’s eyes glow gold, he punched him in the temple, hard.
Lance helped Arthur to his feet, and he looked down at the unconscious form of the man he loved.
“Take him to the dungeons, and put him in iron chains,” he commanded. He hoped he didn’t sound as wrecked as he felt.
*****
The meeting reconvened once Merlin had been carried off. He’d ordered Gwaine to see to it that Merlin was secured and then to join them, and when he did, he looked subdued and lacked his usual swagger.
When Arthur motioned for him to sit down, he stayed on his feet and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, sire. He seemed glad to see me, and we were talking and playing dice, and out of nowhere he attacked me.” He finally raised his eyes, looking sick at heart, and said, “You entrusted him to my care, and I let you down. I should have been more careful.”
Arthur shrugged. “It’s hard to be distrustful of someone who seems so familiar. But we all have to remember that we are not dealing with our Merlin. Fortunately, no lasting harm was done.” But they both knew that if Merlin had plunged to his death, Arthur would neither have forgotten nor forgiven.
And that applied to Gwaine, and to Arthur himself.
Gaius was outlining a plan to treat Merlin with herbs for clarity of mind, such as sage and rosemary, and valerian to help with his sadness. Arthur was willing to try anything, but it seemed unlikely that herbs alone could cure such a severe mental imbalance.
Leon had seemed lost in thought while Gaius was talking, and he spoke at the first opportunity. “I have heard of cases where torture or severe duress has made a man lose his memory and revert to a babbling infant. But Merlin was never weak-minded. He seemed so much stronger than that.”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was deep in concentration. Finally he said, “I think we have to remember that while a skilled torturer will always be able to break any man, given enough time, Merlin is more than just a man. He has powerful magic at his disposal, and mind control disciplines that he learned from the Druids. Even if they were able to keep him from using his magic, he still would have inner resources to fight them with.” He looked around the room. “Let’s start at the beginning, even if it seems obvious. What would be the motivation for taking him?”
“He’s the most powerful sorcerer in Albion, and the Mercian king hoped to gain his power for himself,” Lance answered promptly.
“He has strategic information about Camelot’s defenses and future plans, which could be very valuable to enemies of Camelot,” was Leon’s response.
Gwaine said what no one else wanted to say. “It’s an open secret that he shares your bed.” He saw Gaius wince, and added, “I’m sorry for being indelicate, Gaius. But it’s Merlin’s life and sanity at stake here, and there’s no point in beating around the bush. He might have been kidnaped solely to hurt Arthur, by someone who has a personal grudge against him.”
Arthur did his best to synthesize the answers into a single picture. “So let’s say he was taken by someone who hoped to personally hurt me through him, but also hoped to use his knowledge and his power to win Camelot and remove me from the throne.”
Arthur continued to think out loud. “It would take a very powerful sorcerer to create the illusion that he was me, right down to looking and sounding and even smelling like me. And assuming that Merlin did not lose his memory under the stress of torture, it would take a very powerful sorcerer to wipe his mind clean like that, to erase all traces of his life in Camelot and take him back to the age of eighteen.”
Leon cut in. “Mercia is known to have sorcerers, but their magic is primarily battle magic, and Merlin always said that it was not particularly impressive. I have never heard that they have a sorcerer who even approaches Merlin’s skill.”
Gaius said gravely, “Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived. There is only one other who holds a faint candle to him.”
It was clear from the quick glances around the table that everyone knew who Gaius was talking about. They had lost track of Mordred two years ago, and some of them had hoped he was dead, but Merlin had always been certain that he was still out there somewhere, plotting against Arthur.
Arthur was still struggling to come up with a theory for what had happened to Merlin. “What is the single most outstanding thing about Merlin, something that everyone in the Five Kingdoms knows about him?”
“That he is absolutely loyal to you,” Lance answered.
Arthur always seemed to think better on his feet, and without realizing it he was up and pacing around the table. “And if Merlin thought that he could save my throne by sacrificing himself, would he do it?”
Gwaine drawled out, “I assume that’s what you well-educated types call a rhetorical question?”
“So let’s say Merlin was captured, wounded, in pain, not by any means at the top of his game…” Arthur continued. “He’s being mistreated, there’s at least some torture, so maybe he thinks the best way to protect me is to not know anything about Camelot’s defenses…”
Gwen was the first to grasp his train of thought. “So he takes himself back to the time before he arrived at Camelot, so he would still be Merlin, but would not know anything that could be used against you.”
Leon looked stunned. “So you think the sorcerer who did this to Merlin is Merlin himself?”
“I think we need to explore that possibility,” Arthur said grimly. “Gaius and Lance, come with me. I think it’s time to see what young Merlin has to say for himself.”
*****
Merlin was in a cell in the dungeon, but it wasn’t like the old days when he would get pitched into a room holding nothing but a pile of straw and a thin blanket. He was huddled on a cot, but it was piled with blankets and furs, and there was a small fire in a brazier just outside the bars to take the chill off the damp stone walls.
He looked up when the guard unlocked the entrance, and Arthur pushed back the emotions that flared up when he saw Merlin with iron chains looped around his wrists and a thin iron collar around his neck. It was all Arthur could do to keep from reaching out to him, to comfort him and order the chains removed. But that wouldn’t help Merlin in the long run, and getting the Merlin he knew back was Arthur’s first priority.
Merlin shot him a resentful look and turned his face to the wall.
“None of that, Merlin. It’s time you and I had a conversation,” Arthur said firmly.
“You put me in iron chains. I can’t feel my magic, and it hurts.”
“And you attacked Gwaine, a man who would cheerfully die for you, and tried to harm yourself. You gave me no choice.”
“You could let me go. Of what importance to you is some youth from Ealdor?” Merlin was getting angry, and he sat up straight. “And while we’re on the subject, why am I wearing such rich clothing? And why are you so insistent that I sleep in your chambers? Am I your bed slave?”
“Hardly. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. I need you to tell me, what is the last thing you remember?”
Merlin’s voice took on a rote quality, as if he had repeated the story often, although he had not done so in Camelot. “I bade my mother farewell, and set out for Camelot on foot, with my backpack and a bedroll. I was looking for a position with Gaius, the court physician, who was a friend of my mother’s.”
Arthur let his voice get sharper. “I didn’t ask you what the story you told for three weeks was. I asked you what the last thing you remember is. Think, Merlin. It’s your only chance of getting better.”
Merlin’s mouth was set in a stubborn line, and Arthur could see his chance of getting anything from him slipping away. He was considering yelling (because that always works with Merlin, great plan, Arthur) when Lance touched his arm to get his attention and spoke to him in a low, urgent voice. “Arthur, could you let me try something? It’s something I saw in my travels in the East.”
Arthur shrugged. It was worth a try.
Lance said, “Gaius and I will need some time to prepare,” and he had a whispered consultation with the physician. A servant was sent to fetch the necessary items from Gaius’s workroom, as Merlin and Arthur eyed each other unhappily.
The servant returned with a hot drink for Merlin, which he was reluctant to take. But Gaius said, “It contains something to relax you, but it will not make you unconscious or harm you in any way. You have my promise of that.” Something of Gaius’s concern for him must have breached Merlin’s defenses, because he took a cautious sip and then another, and over the next five minutes drank the whole cup.
Lance also lit some incense that Gaius said had been enchanted by Merlin to have a beneficial effect on the sick, and the air filled with its sweet resinous scent.
Finally, Lance knelt in front of Merlin and said, “I want to try something that might help you remember. It won’t hurt. Will you try it with me?”
Merlin nodded, and Arthur took a deep breath and tried to control his hurt that Merlin was responding to Lance better than to him. The two had always been close, and Arthur knew that Merlin was still reacting to the illusionary Arthur who had mistreated him, but still…
Arthur resolutely turned his thoughts away from the path they were treading and concentrated on the matter at hand.
Lance’s voice was low and soothing as he said, “Close your eyes, and think of a place that you like very much, someplace that has happy memories for you.” Merlin obediently closed his eyes, and after a minute or two Arthur could see some of the tension leaving his face.
“Where are you, Merlin?”
“The swimming hole by Ealdor. Will and I used to spend all our free time there, in the summers, swimming or lying on the bank in the sun and talking.”
“That’s good, very good,” Lance said. “You’re at the swimming hole, and you’re safe, and no one can hurt you. It’s warm, and the sun is shining, and you’re happy. And if you remember something that frightens or distresses you, just step back from the memory and remember how the sun feels on your skin. Can you do that?”
Merlin nodded. He seemed to be lulled into a different state by Lance’s calm voice.
Lance said, “Tell us what you remember about your imprisonment. But remember it isn’t happening to you right now. Just try to watch it as if you were an outsider and you are not involved in it.”
Merlin closed his eyes and was quiet for a minute. Then he started speaking, slowly. “I remember being afraid. Very afraid. I remember wanting some water and he told me I couldn’t have any until I told him things. I told him I didn’t know anything. And then he kept hurting me.”
“What kinds of things did he want to know?” Lance asked softly.
“He wanted to know about Excalibur, and he wanted to know about the secret tunnels underneath the castle and where the entrance was and where they led. And he wanted to know what kind of magical protection and wards I had around Camelot and the King.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about.” Merlin shuddered. “And then he got out a very small knife and slid it under my fingernails and I screamed and screamed until I was hoarse and he did them one at a time and then I think I fainted.”
“Calm down, Merlin. You’re safe, and you’re at the swimming hole, and Will is there.”
Merlin smiled, and he looked soft and young, like he really was an eighteen year old. “Will is my best friend. He always has my back.”
That cost Arthur a pang. He remembered Merlin’s grief at Will’s death, and how ungiving he had been in the face of that grief. He remembered his harsh words, “You should have told me, Merlin.”
He snapped back to the present when Lance said, “And when you told him that you had no idea what he was talking about, was it true?”
“Yes!” Merlin’s sincerity was beyond question. “I don’t know what Excalibur is, and I don’t know anything about the castle, and I don’t even know any spells.” His voice was growing ragged with emotion. “I have magic, but mostly it’s a huge disaster and it gets me in trouble and I can’t even control it very well.”
Lance’s voice got even lower and more hypnotic, and he said, “It’s all right, we’re almost done. You’re doing really well. I only have one more question, and I want you to just tell me the first thing that comes into your mind.”
He paused, and put his hand on top of Merlin’s where it was resting on the fur covering of the cot.
“Why didn’t you know anything about Arthur and Camelot?”
“I locked it up in my mind and threw away the key.”
*****
Merlin was exhausted by the time the conversation was over, so he curled up on the cot and slept. Leon and Gwaine had joined them in the cell by then, and they talked in low tones so they wouldn’t disturb him.
“So Merlin did this to himself? Clever man.” Gwaine said proudly. “He protected Camelot by making absolutely certain that he couldn’t reveal anything.”
“Not so clever if we never get him back,” Leon pointed out.
“We’re getting him back,” Arthur said grimly. It was unthinkable that the life he’d shared with Merlin could simply be gone.
Gaius was trying to walk through the implications. “So if Merlin became younger and untrained in magic, he was unable to defend himself against Mordred’s illusions. And not just about Arthur. Mordred has become a vicious creature, and he probably planted the thoughts about the insects and self-harm just to be cruel.”
“He’s known to have a hatred for you, Sire,” Lance added. “And what better way to hurt you than by wrecking the mind of someone who is dear to you?”
Arthur was already on the next step. “All right, we know that Merlin used magic to shut off his memories. What can be done to reverse it?”
“He needs to call a dragon to heal him. A magical illness of the mind will only respond to a magical cure.” Gaius answered instantly. “And if Kilgarrah was able to cure Merlin of the Serkit bite and bring Morgana back from the point of death, he could certainly restore Merlin’s mind.”
Leon glanced back to make sure that Merlin was still asleep. “He doesn’t know he’s a dragonlord. Who will call the dragon for him?”
Arthur had never been more certain of anything in his life. “He and I will call the dragon together.”
*****
They waited until Merlin woke up, because Gaius said that sleeping was good for him, and then Arthur ordered the chains removed, and he and Merlin rode out with Leon and Gwaine and Lance. Gaius had wanted to come, but Arthur dissuaded him by promising that they would bring Merlin straight back when it was over. It was dark by then, which suited Arthur’s purposes. Dragons avoided the daylight.
When they reached the clearing where Merlin always summoned Kilgarrah and Aithusa, Arthur and Merlin left the others with the horses at the edge where the woods ended. Horses were notorious for disliking dragons, and Arthur did not want his knights to overhear what he was about to say to Merlin.
Merlin didn’t seem so distrustful of Arthur now, but Arthur took care not to touch him or get too close.
When they had walked to the center of the clearing, Merlin said, “I don’t know why we’re here. I know nothing about dragons, I’ve never seen one, and I certainly don’t know how to call one to me like a favorite dog.”
“When the time comes, you will know what to do. For right now, I hope that you will listen to me with an open mind.”
Merlin didn’t agree, but he didn’t protest either, and Arthur took that as good enough.
There was only a faint moon, and Arthur wanted to be able to really see Merlin, so he gave an order.
“Hold out your hand and say, ‘Accendo.’”
Merlin did as he was told, and broke out in a delighted grin when a large ball of light appeared, bright enough that the whole clearing was illuminated. “I had no idea I could do that,” he said in a tone of wonder.
“That’s just the tiniest part of what you can do,” Arthur answered. “Now, I am going to tell you who you are, and who you are to me.”
Merlin said warily, “I’m listening.”
“You came here eleven years ago and almost immediately saved my life, and my father gave you the position as my manservant. We didn’t care for each other much at first, but eventually we became friends, and you were convinced by the dragon Kilgarrah that our destinies lay together. He told you we were two sides of the same coin.”
Merlin frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“Hush. I’m telling you the story of your life. You were afraid to tell me about your magic because of my father’s hatred of anything magical, and because your mother had told you from toddlerhood that concealing it was a life or death matter, so you hid it from me for the first five years you were in Camelot. When you told me, I was very angry at first, but we worked through it. You are my official court sorcerer, and I would not still be king of Camelot if you had not been here. As you are fond of telling me, you’ve saved my royal backside countless times.”
Merlin seemed to like that idea, if the small smile he gave Arthur was any indication.
Arthur steeled himself for the harder part of what he needed to do.
“You prefer the company of men to women. You were in a relationship with another man for a year or two, but eventually we realized that we loved each other in all senses, physically as well as emotionally. We have been together ever since, and the whole court knows that you are my consort.”
Merlin sputtered. “But… but what about Gwen? She’s so… perfect.”
“She is perfect. She’s kind and wise and an invaluable councilor to me, and the people love her. But it’s a marriage in name only. I needed a queen to appease my courtiers and my advisers, and to run my household and be my official hostess. But she and I have never shared a bed. I occasionally spend the night in her rooms, but it’s only for form’s sake. And if she gives me a son or daughter, it will be my heir, but Lancelot’s child.”
“You don’t care about having a legitimate heir?”
“Not as much as I care about you.”
Merlin looked like he’d been pole-axed, with his eyes wide and his jaw dropped open. Arthur reached out and ran his thumb along Merlin’s lower lip and teased, “Close your mouth. It isn’t an attractive look on you.”
Merlin did as he was told, but he still looked stunned. Then he slowly said, “Ohhhh…. I guess that explains why I had those strange feelings about you.”
“Yes, that explains it. And I’m happy to know that you have feelings about me, strange or otherwise.”
Arthur grew serious. “You and I have made vows to each other. I will have none other than you, for the rest of my life. And you have sworn fealty to me, and promised to obey all of my commands.” He took Merlin’s hands in his own, and gazed intently into his eyes. “I am commanding you. Call the dragon.”
Merlin whispered, “I don’t know how.”
Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hands, and dropped to his knees. He looked up at Merlin with all the love and trust of their years together, and said, “Husband. Call the dragon.”
And Merlin did.
*****
The guttural tones of Merlin’s dragonspeak had just finished echoing through the clearing when it became filled with the sound of beating wings, so loud that Arthur had to fight back the urge to cover his ears with his hands.
He watched in awe as not one but two dragons landed a few yards from them.
Arthur had been introduced to Kilgarrah before, and Merlin had told him about Aithusa and that he was a powerful good omen for the future he and Merlin would create together. But nothing had prepared him for the magnificent sight of two huge beasts bowing their heads in homage to Merlin.
Kilgarrah was powerful and scary, with a human-like face that Arthur privately thought was creepy on a giant lizard. Aithusa was smaller, not fully grown yet, and solid white with blue eyes. He had a playful air that stood out in contrast to Kilgarrah’s look of concern.
Aithusa greeted Merlin enthusiastically. “Master! I am so happy to see you! Can I take you for a ride?”
Kilgarrah silenced Aithusa with a look, and said to him, “Not now, hatchling. Our dragonlord is troubled.” He seemed to study Merlin intently. Arthur moved a bit closer to Merlin, his hand on the hilt of his sword, just in case. His mind knew that the last two dragons on earth were allies of his kingdom, but his body still carried his childhood fear of them.
And he had not forgotten the deaths and destruction caused by Kilgarrah’s attack on Camelot in the last years of his father’s reign.
After long moments, Kilgarrah spoke. “Young warlock,” he said, once again inclining his head respectfully to Merlin. “Why have you summoned us?”
Merlin didn’t seem afraid. He supposed it was the same phenomenon as with the knights, that Merlin knew their faces even though he didn’t know who they were.
Merlin spoke, quietly but confidently. “I am ill. I was captured and tortured by Mordred. Gaius and Arthur say that I have wiped my mind clean of my memories to protect Camelot, and I am troubled by visions of things that are not real. They tell me that I am a dragonlord, and that my father was one before me, but I remember none of this. Can you heal me?”
Aithusa squeaked at the mention of Mordred, and Kilgarrah looked grave. “We will assist you, young warlock,” he responded solemnly. “You and Arthur Pendragon have a great destiny ahead of you. Your names will still be spoken in a thousand years. But you cannot fulfill your destiny in your current state. You were wise to come to us for help.”
The two dragons consulted quietly in their own language, and then Kilgarrah jerked his head toward a large rock and said, “Sit, dragonlord, and your king with you. We will begin.”
They sat on the rock, their legs touching, and Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist. Kilgarrah began incanting words in a low hum, and Aithusa joined in with his higher voice. The incantation became more like a song, and soon the air around them was filled with the sound of hundreds of beautiful voices, male and female, and somehow Arthur knew that dragons past and present had gathered to heal Merlin.
Arthur dragged his attention from the sight of Kilgarrah and Aithusa, bent over singing to Merlin like a mother would sing to her child in its cradle, and took a look at Merlin. Merlin’s eyes were closed, and his face had a peaceful, rapt expression.
The beautiful sound continued for long minutes, and when it ended Merlin opened his eyes and the magical creatures bowed to him once more.
Kilgarrah spoke to Merlin. “You are healthy in your mind once again, young warlock.” Then he turned to Arthur with what could only be described as a smirk. “I have restored his memories in all respects but one. All of his memories will be his again in twenty-four hours. You can thank me later.”
The dragons launched themselves into the sky, shaking the trees around the clearing, and Aithusa turned and called to Merlin, “Goodbye, Lord Merlin, we will meet again,” as Merlin waved at him.
Merlin turned to Arthur with a sweet smile, his eyes revealing the man of twenty-nine and not the boy of eighteen. They embraced wordlessly, holding each other tight.
Finally Merlin pulled away, and said, “My mother is gone.”
“Yes, she is. I’m sorry.”
They walked back to the knights, Arthur’s arm looped around Merlin’s neck in an affectionate half hug, pulling him close to his side. Right where he belonged.
*****
Arthur had kept his promise to Gaius to let him examine Merlin when he returned, but he smiled to himself as Merlin convincingly feigned tiredness and quickly cut short the procedure.
Finally they were alone in Arthur’s chambers, and Arthur fully intended to extend a good “welcome home” to the man he hadn’t made love to in more than three weeks.
He reached for Merlin’s velvet jacket and started unbuttoning the small buttons down the center. When the jacket was off, he pulled Merlin’s loose linen shirt over his head, running his fingers along the healing wound on his chest. “Are you well enough for me to take you to bed?” he asked huskily.
“Always,” Merlin said, but there was a note of false bravado in his voice that Arthur noticed.
Arthur pulled off his own shirt and started unfastening his trousers, toeing off his boots at the same time. He was a man on a mission. But he wasn’t going to let the slightly off tone of Merlin’s voice go unremarked.
He put his hands on Merlin’s bare shoulders, and said, “Merlin. What’s wrong?”
Merlin blushed and looked down, but Arthur cupped the side of his face with his palm (his cheekbones were very sharp, Arthur would have to have a word with the kitchens about fattening Merlin up) and said, “Please tell me.”
Merlin dared a look, and said softly, “I know that we’re longtime lovers. But I have no memory of the actual physical acts.” He blushed even deeper and murmured. “I, um, I feel like I’ve never done this before.”
Arthur gave him a predatory smile. “I will take very good care of you. In fact, you are going to love every moment of this.”
“I see the trauma of losing me hasn’t affected your ego, Sire.”
“If it’s true it isn’t bragging,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s ear, making the words sound absolutely filthy.
Arthur lay down on the bed, still wearing his trousers and socks, and smiled up at Merlin. “C’mere,” he said softly.
Merlin sat next to him, looking uneasy, and Arthur said, “Here’s something you may not know. Your magic has always liked me. In fact, some days your magic likes me better than you do. Your magic will do just about anything to make me happy.”
He lifted Merlin’s left hand to his lips, and kissed each finger, starting with the thumb and working his way to the little finger. As Arthur kissed each one in turn, the blackened fingernail became pink and healthy, and the lingering pain disappeared.
Merlin looked at him in awe. “Do you have magic?”
“Not an iota,” Arthur answered cheerfully. “But you do, and as I told you, your magic wants me to be happy, and it knows that I am unhappy when you are injured. So it fixed your fingers to please me. Now give me your other hand.”
Arthur pressed five more kisses on five more fingers, and they were instantly healthy again. He gently licked his way up the messy scar on Merlin’s side, and it disappeared, leaving Merlin’s skin white and unscarred.
“So that’s how you got me to call the dragon, you simply wished it?” Merlin asked in a tone of wonder.
“It’s not quite that simple, but that’s basically it. When I want something very badly, your magic tries hard to give it to me. It isn’t infallible, but I gambled that your magic’s desire to please me would trump your memory loss. And I was right.”
“You don’t have to sound so smug,” Merlin complained. “In fact, I think you can put that mouth to much better use than blathering on about how great you are.”
“Is that so?” Arthur said casually, just before grabbing Merlin’s arm and neatly flipping him onto his back.
Merlin was unable to answer the question because he had some great egoist’s tongue down his throat.
Arthur had always cherished his memories of his first time with Merlin. Merlin had been incredible, passionate and skilled and insatiable. He’d even had to grudgingly acknowledge (but only to himself) that Gwaine may have taught Merlin a few tricks worth knowing.
But this Merlin was something else entirely. Sweet and virginal, he moaned the first time Arthur sucked on his nipple. He yelped when Arthur reached into his trousers and palmed his cock. And he screamed and pulled Arthur’s hair when he came down his throat.
Later, Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s thick hair and smiled as he remembered that Merlin had another eighteen hours of “firsts” in front of him.
“Get some sleep, my love,” he murmured. “You’ll need your strength tomorrow.”