Supermassive Black Hole (Part 1)
TITLE: Supermassive Black Hole (Part 1)
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: NC-17
GENRE: Modern AU, slash, drama, action
WORDS: This part 4000
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing (including the title, which I shamefully stole from Muse)
SUMMARY: Arthur and Morgana are on the run. They live in a world where magic is outlawed, they’ve been named as fugitives, and their own father seeks to destroy them. They must fight for survival no matter what it takes, and Uther Pendragon’s new weapon, Merlin Emrys, is but one of their many problems.
A/N I've had such a craving for Badass!Morgana, Badass!Arthur and even Badass!Merlin, that I sat down and spent the last day writing this, instead of what I should've been doing, which was work XD I don't know why, but this all sort of came to me, already figured out *shrugs*
***
Somewhere in South-East London
23:43 21st January 2010
“Which way, Morgana?!” Arthur gasped, attempting to not to sound as desperate as he felt. His legs were aching, his lungs were burning, and his heart pounding erratically in his chest, as though pushing him to go harder, faster, and further. But oxygen just wasn’t getting into his body quickly enough, no matter how much he breathed, and he was beginning to feel weak and dizzy, like he was about to keel over where he ran.
He wheezed loudly, attempting to inhale more air, but instinctively knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Morgana!” he cried again, casting a panicked glance at his sister, feeling the weight of their enemies press closer behind them. He could hear them now - the echoes of their shouts and the bang of their guns - drawing frighteningly near.
“Both ways are blocked,” Morgana replied at last, running beside him, long dark hair streaming behind her and eyes closed tightly in contemplation. She frowned, her eyelashes fluttered, and she clenched her fists, nails leaving angry red indentations in the palms of her hands.
“What?!” Arthur yelped, breath coming out in short sharp pants. That was really not what he’d been hoping to hear. “What do you mean?! Is that it, is it?! We’re officially doomed?”
Morgana sighed, head lowered, feet pounding rhythmically against the ground. “Nothing is certain.”
Arthur would have normally rolled his eyes and said something scathing to such an obsure remark, but as it stood - being chased by hordes of murderous Ministry officials - he was really not in the mood for her deliberate vagueness. “Stop being cryptic and give me an answer!” he cried, as they reached the bottom of the alley and came to a turning. “Left or right?”
Morgana’s eyes opened, but they were glazed, as though she was seeing something nobody else could, distant and unclear. “I told you,” she muttered, sounding flat, almost hollow, “Both ways are blocked.”
Arthur’s heart skittered in his chest, and he cocked the gun he'd held loosely in his palm, trying to ignore the way it slipped slightly in his grasp, dampened by his sweat-slick skin. “So, we’re dead either way?” he asked, in feigned carelessness, unsure of whether he really wanted to know the answer. He checked his clips, despite knowing it would make little difference in the end, and gripped his weapon tightly, his last defence against the Ministry officials that were quickly closing in on them.
He would go out fighting, at least.
“They’re coming,” Morgana informed him, looking in the opposite direction, eyes unfocused, and tone still distant and aloof.
Arthur raised a disbelieving eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder, where he could see people swiftly emerging through the darkness, nearing the ending of the alley, guns poised and ready to shoot. “No shit are they coming,” he said sarcastically, narrowing his eyes and aiming his gun. “I don’t need to be ‘gifted’ to see that!”
He shot three times in quick succession, and three men fell, dead and silent to the ground. The victory was short lived, however, because more simply materialized, determined, angry and ready to finish him. They were so close now that Arthur immediately knew he and Morgana had finally come into shooting range, and could both get hit at virtually any moment.
“Something is changing,” his sister muttered, apparently oblivious to the commotion behind her. She clutched her head, fisted her fingers into her hair and tugged, as though attempting to pull something straight from her mind. “Another factor - it’s clouding things. His choices are unclear. He’s conflicted - conflicted already.”
“Morgana!” Arthur bellowed, pushing his sister behind a wall to escape the volley of gunfire now heading straight towards them. They were running out of time - the men would be upon them in less than a minute, and then there would be no way to escape. “Pick a way! Which one has more chance of survival?”
Morgana gazed up at the sky, maddeningly calm and serene. “Left. Maybe - maybe he will spare us.”
Not taking a single second to contemplate what his sister might mean, Arthur grabbed her hand and pulled, turning left and charging down another twisting street, where the officers of the Ministry temporarily vanished from view.
They ran through the darkness, feet splashing through filthy puddles, and gasped into the air, both worn, tired and almost defeated.
***
Ministry Headquarters
Somewhere in London
23:43 21st January 2010
“Sire,” said Tristan, bowing his head respectfully. His expression was cold and blank, features stretched tightly across a sharp chiseled face, but his eyes were gleaming, revolving uneasily, almost unwilling to look at his master. “They’re still on the run.”
Uther cocked an eyebrow, barely visible in the darkness. “Where?”
“South-East London,” Tristan replied, gazing steadily at the floor. “They’re outrunning the Ground Forces. Morgana’s…gift, is causing a problem.” He let out a breath and ground his teeth, admitting reluctantly, “It’s impossible to corner them.”
Uther surveyed him for a long moment, expression so unreadable Tristan shifted under the intensity of it. “Nothing is impossible,” he stated, tapping a finger gently against his chin, “Even against these monsters. I suggest a different approach if your Ground Forces aren’t working.”
Tristan’s eyebrows creased and he glanced up, expression politely questioning. “Valiant - ?”
“No,” came the sharp reply. A pause, then, “Not Valiant. We already know where they are, we don’t need to track them - Valiant’s expertise will be of little help.”
Tristan frowned in confusion. “Then, who?” He let in a breath. “Sire.”
“Emrys,” Uther replied slowly, lips quirking in something vaguely resembling a smirk. “He’s yet to be tested.” Tristan’s master looked contemplative. “Let us see if he’s as powerful as people say he is.”
Tristan steeled his jaw and was forced to admit, “Emrys won’t want to.”
Uther laughed, but it was cold and without humour.
A lesser man than Tristan would have shivered.
“He won’t have much choice,” Uther muttered, inclining his head regally. “Send him. He should be able to trap them - regardless of whether Morgana sees him coming.”
“Yes, sire,” replied Tristan dutifully.
***
Profile: Morgana Le Fay
Full name: Morgana Le Fay
Gender: Female
Date of Birth: 5th September 1985
Known user - Otherwise known as a Seer - Grade 1/2
Power/s: Foresight
Alliances: Arthur Pendragon - brother, Gwen Hywfer (?) - old friend
Status: On the run
A Grade 1/2 magic user, Le Fay foresaw Operation 22 before it was even set in motion. She ran away from home on the 21st January 2005, quickly followed by step-brother Arthur Pendragon, and has been on the run ever since. Although there have been a number of attempts to capture her, her abilities as a Seer make her very hard to outmaneuver. But despite being gifted in foresight, her magic has little other use and she has no known active powers, meaning once cornered, she should be relatively easy to bring in.
***
Somewhere in South-East London
00:03 22nd January 2010
Dark blank buildings whizzed past as Arthur gazed blankly at the street lights, running completely on automatic, breath ragged and increasingly erratic. He followed Morgana’s movements, twisting and turning down different avenues and streets, hearing the distant sounds of the Ministry behind them.
But they saw nobody else, heard nobody else, and Arthur’s stomach sunk with dread, an uneasy feeling settling in his chest.
“Where are we going?” he gasped, head spinning.
“Well, we’re trying to escape,” Morgana replied, in that sarcastic way she did, face flushed with exhilaration.
“I’m going to die,” the blond informed her, almost hyperventilating. They turned down another alley, the sounds of the Ministry fading away, and Arthur couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, despite knowing danger was far from over. “Seriously, about to keel over.”
Before Arthur could feel his legs give way, however, Morgana stopped halfway down the alley, skidding to a silent halt.
The blond blinked in alarm and rushed to her side, fingers biting into the tender skin of her arms. “Morgana,” he hissed, sounding strangely loud in the sinister silence. A streetlamp flickered. “What are you doing? We’ve got to go!”
“We can’t,” she replied in a quiet voice, looking around curiously, up and down the street. “Besides, they’re gone.”
Frowning, Arthur looked back the way they came and squinted, seeing and hearing nothing following them in the distance. In fact, the whole street was eerily silent, something that in Arthur’s rather extensive experience, never boded particularly well.
“They’re not following us?” he asked, feeling even more uneasy than he had before. His grip tightened on his gun and he narrowed his eyes dangerously, looking out for any sign of movement in the cold empty alley.
“They don’t need to,” Morgana explained, spreading her arms wide and twisting on a heel, “They already have us.”
But before Arthur could even question what the hell his sister might mean, another voice spoke from the shadows, sounding soft, resigned and slightly impressed. “Well, they did say you were good, Morgana Le Fay,” it said, coming from a slight figure that had suddenly appeared out of the darkness, at the far end of the street.
It seemed to be a man, perhaps no older than twenty, with jet black hair, pale white skin, and gleaming golden eyes. A sorcerer?
Without wasting a single second, Arthur raised his gun and shot, one bullet, two bullets, three bullets, in quick fire succession.
But instead of riddling the man in the chest and neck, there was a crack of blinding light and the bullets splinted against an invisible shield, falling soundlessly to the ground. The man’s face flinched in strain but he remained unharmed, arms lying limply at his sides, unmoving and misleadingly unthreatening.
“Arthur Pendragon,” the stranger said dully, looking him up and down. “Morgana’s brother and loyal bodyguard. Fast, strong, and good with a gun.”
Arthur blinked in surprise, but rallied himself a second later, feeling a burst of anger explode in his chest. “The Ministry’s using magic ‘users’ now?!” He laughed, loudly, but it was cold and empty. “Those filthy hypocrites.”
The dark-haired man cocked his head and stared at him in interest, seemingly unconcerned that Arthur had tried to shoot him only moments before. “Ever heard the saying ‘fight fire with fire?’” he asked, voice deceptively innocent - soft and lilting. He sounded bored - purposely nonchalant - but he appeared to be working hard to keep it that way, his relaxed stance and careless shrug almost too casual. “All’s fair in love and war.”
Arthur ignored him. “You’re betraying your own kind!” he hissed, watching in satisfaction as the man’s jaw jumped instinctively, teeth grinding so loudly Arthur imagined he could hear it. The sorcerer didn’t look so collected anymore, and Arthur smirked in triumph, realising he’d hit a nerve. “Helping the Ministry kill people just like you!”
“It’s not so simple,” Morgana interrupted softly, before the stranger had a chance to reply. She gazed at him with all-seeing eyes, her stare penetrating and unblinking. She smiled, and it was mysterious, just a small quirk of her lips. “Is it, Merlin?”
The man looked surprised for a split second before his face clouded, twisting into a deep uneasy frown.
Arthur on the other hand, looked back and forth between the mysterious man and Morgana, watching the events unfold with vainly-concealed interest. It sounded as though his sister was appealing to the sorcerer, almost playing him, something she surely wouldn’t do if she already knew there was no hope. Arthur guessed it was because their fates were not yet sealed, and that maybe they could escape.
“You’re not doing this because you want to,” his sister continued, watching Merlin closely, her voice soft and persuading. “They have someone you care about.”
Arthur’s jaw dropped as he finally understood what Morgana was trying to say. He turned to Merlin in astonishment and exclaimed, “You’re being blackmailed?!” in a loud incredulous voice.
Well, he never was one for tact.
But Merlin was too busy staring at Morgana with wary eyes to respond to Arthur’s indignation, lips pursed, and hands curled into fists at his sides. He considered her closely before speaking, working to keep his voice cool and faintly curious, as though the words were of no real importance to him. “I was told you see the future, not the past,” he mused, face shielded by shadows.
“I do.” Morgana nodded, eyes glazed as she saw something far off, a small smile curving at her lips. “I see us freeing her.”
That certainly got Arthur’s attention. “Um, excuse me?! Us?!” he cried, pointing at himself with a steely finger before crossing his arms and glowering towards Merlin, chin raised and shoulders steeled. He wasn’t really sure what was going on, but he did know one thing: he would never help anyone who worked for the Ministry, regardless of their motives! “I’ll do no such thing!”
Merlin ignored him. He looked directly at Morgana, a muscle jumping erratically in his jaw. “You’re lying to me,” he whispered, sounding increasingly dangerous but slightly unsure. He stepped closer, as though unable to help himself, face shining with sweat as he stepped into the light of the street lamp.
Morgana shook her head, slow and sure. “No, I’m not.”
Merlin crossed his arms and set his jaw, as though he was steeling himself against Morgana’s words. Arthur almost laughed - it looked comical on someone so young and geeky looking.
“I’m not going to let you go, no matter what you say,” the dark-haired man informed them, in a hard firm voice, causing Arthur to tense like a coiled spring. “I have to bring you in.”
The blond scoffed and cocked his gun. “Like hell you’re bringing me anywhere!”
“Merlin,” Morgana murmured, waving a soothing arm in Arthur’s direction, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t have to.”
Merlin looked strained now, and the blond could see haunted shadows beneath his eyes. “Yes, I do. You don’t understand. I have to capture you.”
“Then why haven’t you done it yet?!” Arthur asked challengingly. He was fed up of standing around talking - fed up of all the blatant mind-fuckery and manipulation. If Merlin was going to capture them, kill them, or whatever, he could just bloody well do it already. There was no point in dragging the whole thing out.
“Not now, Arthur,” Morgana hissed, meeting his eye. “You can take out your frustration later.”
Arthur blinked, but fell silent, catching the meaning behind her words. He and Morgana had been on the run with each other for years, and had learnt to trust and rely on nothing but each other. Arthur could read her look a book - he knew he just had to wait for his queue.
“Look, Merlin,” Morgana continued, now sure she had Merlin’s undivided attention, “I know you want to save her, but you won’t be able to do that by working for them. We can save her, I promise you.” She stepped closer, and Merlin stepped back, staring at her with a frightening intensity, something like hope shining in his eyes - he looked painfully conflicted. “You’ll realise that soon enough.”
“I can’t take that risk,” he replied, shaking his head violently. “If I let you go, they’ll kill her. So I won’t let you escape - I can’t.”
“I know you won’t,” Morgana admitted, sounding casual. She shrugged her shoulders and moved closer, stopping only inches from Merlin’s face, commanding his full and rapt attention. “But you’ll change your mind eventually -” she let out a sigh “- which is why I’m sorry we have to do this.”
Turning back to her brother on a twisting heel, Morgana screeched, “Arthur, NOW!” in an uncharacteristically shrill voice, catching Merlin completely off guard.
The dark-haired man recoiled instinctively, but Arthur was quicker. He raised his gun and shot three times, teeth grinding in wary anticipation.
The first shot caught Merlin unprepared, and he yelped, blood splattering down his shirt. The bullet had hit him directly in the arm, just beneath his shoulder, and he’d gone ghostly white in pain.
The next shots however, ricocheted off his resummoned shield, but it was already too late - the sorcerer was stumbling back in pain and exertion, sweat beading down his forehead. His eyes were shining gold, his face was etched in agony, and Arthur immediately knew they had to leave before Merlin recovered; no doubt he’d want to take revenge for the gaping bullet wound.
Morgana had evidently realised the same thing. She turned on a heel, threw her brother a pointed look, and charged back down the alley, grapping Arthur’s hand as she went. “Run!” she cried, face flushed and eyes wild.
Needing no further prompting, Arthur followed her down the street, dimly hearing Merlin’s ragged swearing behind them, sounding pained but increasingly distant.
They ran for over ten minutes, still paranoid that Merlin could be following them, until Morgana skidded to a halt, scared, relieved, and completely exhausted. They were both rasping into in the silence.
“Fuck,” Arthur breathed after a moment, scrapping his fingers down his face and bending over, a stitch stabbing at his sides and the gun shaking in his grasp. “That was close.”
“Too close,” Morgana agreed, sweeping her hair out her eyes. She let out a wobbly breath and shook her head, looking weirdly shaken. “That could have gone either way,” she explained.
Arthur eyes widened and he cringed, exclaiming, “You didn’t know we’d survive?” in a scarily high-pitched voice.
“No, my visions were unclear,” his sister explained, squeezing her eyes shut. “But I knew that if we caught Merlin off guard at the right time, there’d be a chance that we could run for it. And we did.”
“Well, you can’t expect him to spare us if this happens again,” Arthur grumbled, rolling the muscles in his shoulders and checking his gun. “I don’t think he’ll forgive me for shooting him.”
Morgana smiled, throwing him a small secretive look. “Oh, he’s already forgiven you,” she informed him, sounding sure. “He knows you did what you had to.”
Arthur eyed her suspiciously. “You have a lot of faith in him, considering you just met,” he observed.
“I’ve seen his coming for a long time, Arthur,” she explained cryptically, letting out a tired sigh. “I just hoped we’d meet under different circumstances.”
***
Profile: Arthur Pendragon
Full name: Arthur Pendragon
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: 19th November 1987
Power/s: None
Alliances: Morgana Le Fay - sister, Gwen Hwyfer (?) - old friend, Leon - ex-boyfriend (?)
Status: On the run
Although Pendragon has no magical abilities of his own, he has been fighting alongside his step-sister Morgana Le Fay, since 2005. He’s a skilled fighter, both fast and strong, and carries various weapons on his person. He’s a strategist, who knows the background of the ministry and how it works, enabling him to evade capture and help protect Le Fay. Not to be underestimated.
***
Somewhere in South-East London
02:23 22nd January 2010
Blinking his eyes open, after basically sleepwalking for the last two hours, Arthur looked around warily, taking in the terraced houses and vaguely familiar streets. “Where are we going?” he asked, an uncomfortable feeling curling in his gut; he hoped they weren’t going where he thought they were.
Morgana glanced at him out the corner of her eye, evidently sensing his trepidation, and muttered, “The only place that’s safe.”
Arthur stopped in the middle of the street and stared, shaking his head violently. He definitely recognised the area. “We can’t go back to Gwen’s, Morgana,” he hissed, resisting half-heartedly as she grabbed his arm and made to pull him along the pavement. He wriggled. “We can’t put her in danger again.”
Morgana sighed, looking visibly strained in the dim light, face pale and features pinched. But her eyes were focused, clear, and completely determined. "We have no choice -”
Arthur cut across her, unable to believe his sister would put their friend in such a dangerous situation, no matter the circumstances; if the Ministry believed that Gwen was harbouring them, they’d have no qualms about hunting her too. “Morgana -”
“There’s no point in arguing,” Morgana interrupted, waving a hand with the superiority of someone who could see the future. “I have already foreseen that Gwen’s is where we’re going.”
Arthur grumbled under his breath. “God, this whole seeing the future thing: very annoying!”
His sister rolled his eyes. “So you’ve said ten hundred times in the last five years,” she muttered, patting him on the arm. She looked him in the eye, expression earnest, and willed him to believe her. “Look, don’t worry, Gwen will be safe. Nothing will attack us here.” She looked down the road, spotting Gwen’s house, and smiled. “Trust me - it’s where we’re supposed to be.”
Arthur only wished he had as much faith as she did.
***
Profile: Gwen Hywer
Full name: Gwen Hywer
Gender: Female
Date of Birth: 25th August 1986
Power/s: None
Alliances: Morgana Le Fay (friend), Arthur Pendragon (friend)
Status: Being Monitored
Hywer is a long suspected friend and ally of Morgana Le Fay. They attended the same school for four years, and Hywer has been accused on harbouring the fugitive on a number of occasions. However, nothing has ever been proven, and so the civilian has never been charged. She has no particular skills or powers to be of any threat, although she is being monitored in case Le Fay attempts to contact her.
***
Ministry Headquarters
Somewhere in London
06:00 22nd January 2010
“Emrys, he will see you now,” Tristan called, inclining his head and opening a majestic steel door, signaling for the sorcerer to proceed.
Merlin gave him an uneasy look and took in a deep breath, gathering the courage to scuttle over the threshold. He stepped forwards after a long moment and slowly entered the room, blinking blearily at the bright light that was streaming through the wall of windows, the blinding sunrise visible over the buildings of London.
“Er - sire?” he choked, looking around the spacious room, filled with nothing but a desk in front of the gleaming windows. His heart was in his throat and his hands were sweating, his stomach twisting with an anxious dread; he had failed to capture Le Fay and Pendragon, and now, his mother might have to pay for it.
“So,” said a voice, causing the sorcerer to leap backwards in surprise, “They escaped?”
Merlin turned on heel to find Uther Pendragon standing behind him, looking calm and collected, although this voice was tinted with unforgiving steel. He brushed past the sorcerer, sat at his desk - the sun basking him in a deep red glow - and laced his fingers together, watching Merlin expectantly.
“Well?” he prompted.
“Yes, they -” Merlin inhaled a lungful of air and gestured to his arm, which he’d made a half-hearted attempt at healing, still angry and red from the bullet wound. “They didn’t want to come quietly,” he explained.
“Well, obviously,” Uther deadpanned, looking unimpressed. “You are trying to capture them - they’re not supposed to come quietly.”
“I’m sorry sire,” Merlin said hastily, face crumbling, picturing his mother, hurt and imprisoned. “I’m sorry! They - they just caught me off guard.”
“I can see that,” came the icy reply. Uther cocked his head, sighed loudly, and twirled a fountain pen curiously through his fingers, shaking his head with a strange sort of disappointment. “I was led to believe that you were powerful,” he muttered quietly.
“I am!” Merlin cried, feeling increasingly desperate. “Please, just, let me prove it!” He panted loudly. “Give me three days to catch them with no other interference.”
Uther raised his eyebrows, and for the first time in the whole conversation, his expression appeared entirely genuine. “You expect to catch them alone? When all other attempts have failed?”
Merlin nodded violently. “Yes, I swear that I can.”
“And I suppose that if you succeed, you’ll want something in return?” Uther asked, in a way that made it sound not at all like a question. “Your mother’s freedom, perhaps?”
Merlin let out a breath, before admitting quietly, “Yes, I do want that.” He closed his eyes. “And if I fail, you can send in the troops to capture Pendragon and Le Fay instead.”
“If you fail, Emrys,” Uther began, “Your mother will die. So see that you don’t.” He smiled coldly. “Three days. You’re dismissed.”
Merlin gulped, and all but fled the room, confused but newly determined.
***
To be continued...
Part 2
***
A/N Idk, shall I continue this? Atm I feel quite inspired, but I'll no doubt change my mind tomorrow :S If I do continue I'll probably need a beta for the next part, to kick me into gear. If anyone's up for it, let me know XD
Comments are appriciated!