What's that coming over the hill...?
Title: Death, Love and Everything In Between [4/7]
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: MerlinxArthur
Length: This part is 2,156 words. Overall, it’s about 13,000 words, chapter average 1,800.
Rating: PG-13.
Status: Complete. Beta’d by princessezzy and fortassetu who also made my banner! ♥
Notes: In each part I’ve done some research to make sure I know what I’m talking about. If you read something and go ‘hang on a sec...’ check if I’ve done the research first; if not, please let me know. :) I know the producers of the show don’t bother, but that’s no reason for me not to.
Back to the Start
Last Chapter
Research for this chapter.
Inns - around in England since the Roman times.
Dice - conventionally introduced in England by Romans.
Chapter IV
“Camelot,” Belvedere breathed, and Merlin looked aghast.
“Camelot?!” he whispered. “Camelot can’t - ” He stumbled. “I mean - it’s - ”
He stared.
“It was a trap,” Merlin gasped. “It was all a trap!”
Oh no.
Belvedere turned to him with wide eyes. “They destroyed Camelot’s two main defenders in one blow! They incapacitated Arthur, knowing I’d ride off to his rescue, waited till I’d left then marched on the citadel with no one left behind to defend her!” He let out a long shaky breath. “Oh, God… What have I done?!” Merlin looked at Belvedere, eyes panicking. “We have to go back! We have to - ”
“No!” he shouted back, gripping on Merlin’s arm. “What’s the point in going back? If Camelot is destroyed there is nothing we can do! It’s too late!” Merlin struggled against his grip, but it was feeble and desolate. “Your friends will be dead, Merlin, or captured. If someone is powerful and wise enough to set up such an intricate plan then we have no hope of defeating them!”
“That’s not true! If they sent me away they knew I would be strong enough to beat them - ”
“When you’re with your friends, not isolated and alone!” Belvedere sighed. “I’ve seen many a city rise and fall, Merlin. I’m older than you think. It always happens. Trust me; there’s no hope in riding back. Our best chance is to continue and see if this sorcerer Morgana knows is of any help.”
He’s right, Merlin. Arthur didn’t seem begrudging; he just sounded desperately sad. He’s right.
“That’s my home,” Merlin whispered. “Gone.”
Your town will have survived; it’s too far away and too small to be a problem, Arthur replied, but they both knew that wasn’t what he meant.
“Come on,” Belvedere said gently. “If we make it to the village by nightfall we can find lodgings. You can sleep in a proper bed for once!”
Merlin tore his eyes from the landscape and turned from it once more, riding off into the gloom.
The village was small, quiet and hospitable, dwarfed by the mountain range looming overhead. Belvedere explained their route to Merlin; there was a pass they could make on foot, but the horses would be left behind. “They’d slip and break their necks; their hooves aren’t meant for steep rock.” Merlin had not had much argument for this; he was used to walking, and stretching his legs would be a welcome break from saddle sores. They bought heavy furs from the village people, who were only too happy to provide a seldom-seen trade, linings for their packs to keep them safe from snow and damp, and copious amounts of what appeared to be dried meat that Merlin was not particularly looking forward to.
They’d settled in to a rather homey looking inn, and were currently spread out on a large table in what could be loosely labelled a dining area. Across the room, a competition of some form of intricate local game was being played, the rules too obscure for Merlin to understand; he’d given up a while ago and was focusing on the battered map spread on the table. They’d left their horses with the landlord called, rather wonderfully, Larry - Merlin had at least five minutes of good fun (much to Arthur’s protests) repeating ‘Larry the landlord!’ under his breath. He was the most trustable man of the village, and the least likely to sell them off before they got back… if they ever got back.
Merlin tried not to think about that.
Belvedere took another sip of wine, gesturing to the other side of the mountains. “When we get out the other side it’s pretty easy from there, probably half a day’s walk across some fields. The mountain pass should be pretty simple.” He frowned. “Apart from the rock slides, of course…”
Merlin blanched. “Rock slides?”
“He’s having you on,” Larry laughed as he scooped up their finished plates. “The mountain had a bit of fuss, but that was well over a century ago.” Belvedere appeared to nod in agreement, and Merlin frowned in puzzlement, but Larry had moved off before he could ask any more.
“Don’t fancy joining in?” Belvedere gestured to the raucous championship happening across the room, and Merlin shook his head. “Good choice. Some people don’t take too kindly to strangers, especially if you beat them. Get back to your room. We’ll wait till dawn to leave tomorrow so we have a clear view of where we’re treading.”
Merlin bid Larry goodnight before trekking up the stairs; he paused to watch Belvedere walk over to the game. He was welcomed like an old friend, and picked up the dice with familiar fingers.
Who is this man? Arthur mused, and Merlin couldn’t help but muse with him.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered as he traced his fingers in lazy circles on the pillow next to him, “do you ever wonder what life could be like? If you’d not been born a prince? If I’d never come to Camelot? If I’d never left?”
No.
“I think I’d have found you anyway,” he continued, ignoring Arthur’s sarcasm. “I think this was destiny.”
After all this, you still believe in destiny?
Merlin thought of the dragon. “Someone told me something was going to happen, and I promised them I’d make it true.”
What could be so important?
Merlin hesitated. “They told me you would be a great king.”
They lied. There’s no such thing as destiny. There’s only death.
“And love,” Merlin murmured, and to this Arthur had to concede.
Yes. Death and love and everything in between.
It had snowed overnight, and whilst this was a rarity for Merlin he supposed he should probably get used to it. He blew on nervous gloved fingers as Belvedere adjusted his pack’s straps, before turning to stare into the horizon. He thought of his friends, of Camelot, and for a moment was desperately sad, before he straightened his shoulders and turned back to Belvedere, who was talking to Larry.
“Give us a month, then sell our belongings and remove our records. If we get to the other side and find what we’re looking for there’s a good chance there’ll be no point in coming back.”
Larry nodded gravely before clapping Merlin on the shoulder. “Belvedere’s the best. You’re very lucky to have him with you.” Merlin smiled gratefully, but his reassurance sparked off more questions than comfort. With a final glance around they set off on a small path meandering from the back of the inn, which dropped from sight pretty quickly as they entered the bottom of the mountain.
It was good to be walking again. Merlin had walked most of the way from his home town to Camelot; the activity was calming, though his pack was heavier and the road was colder. Walking up the mountainside to where the pass was basically involved a winding road with a steady incline; this was deceptively tiring, and Merlin’s legs ached when they stopped for the night. He took one look at the stony ground and knew sleeping wasn’t going to be any fun. They’d left the tent behind with Larry; it would be impossible to pitch on the uneven ground, and besides, there were plenty of handy caves for travellers along the mountainside. They squatted in one as Belvedere went off to find some water to cook their pathetic meal of various vegetables and Merlin’s first introduction to dried meat.
“The going’s pretty easy this far down; the shepherds often use these roads for exercising their animals, or getting to some fields the other side. When we get higher up it’ll get colder and more treacherous,” Belvedere explained as he stoked the fire. Merlin took a hesitant bite out of the meat and found it was sharp, salty and not altogether unpleasant. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.
The cave was dry, and kept warm from the fire and various magical symbols put in the rock to help travellers. Superstition this far away from the cities tended to bend the other way; magic was seen as a way of keeping away monsters, of both spiritual and physical kinds, and a handy way to survive the winter. Warlocks were more like doctors, and were frequent visitors to the poorer villages of the area. Merlin decided he wouldn’t mind travelling around helping the poor, if worst came to worst, but for now Belvedere said it would be better Merlin kept away from any sorcerers, as to not raise suspicions. Merlin curled up in a back corner, warm and feeling safe for the first time in a very long while. Making sure Belvedere was asleep, he pulled his blanket further around him and whispered to Arthur.
“I miss you.”
Arthur took a moment to reply. I’m right here.
“I know you are, and I’m glad.”
Good, because I was starting to feel like leaving if I was so unappreciated.
Merlin paused. “Could you? Leave, I mean. Where would you go?”
I don’t know.
“I didn’t mean that, anyway.” He sighed. “I miss seeing you. I miss talking to you.” He hesitated. “I miss… touching you.”
An awkward silence fell.
Merlin?
“What?” he whispered.
What’s going to happen to us?
“I don’t know,” he mumbled.
You were right.
“About what?”
There was no reply. About everything.
“I was?”
Merlin… I’m scared. What if I die? What if you die, and I just sort of… float, forever?
“I won’t let that happen,” said Merlin, his voice determined. “I won’t let any of that happen. That’s a promise.” He thought of Gaius, of Morgana, of Gwen, of the dragon. “I always keep my promises.” Merlin began to sink into unconsciousness, weariness overtaking him.
Merlin?
“Hmm?” he yawned, eyes fluttering closed.
I miss you, too.
The air was billowing from Merlin’s mouth in fresh, sharp clouds when they stopped for lunch, Belvedere leaning on the rocky cliff face. Merlin had already perched on a rock to keep from the edge; he’d never thought himself as much of a ‘heights’ person, and the sheer drop into smoky white wasn’t particularly helping this. Belvedere handed him a strip of meat and he took it happily, biting and chewing slowly and thoughtfully. “What will you do, if we can’t go back to Camelot?” he asked Belvedere as they shared out the last of the blackberries.
Belvedere shrugged. “I’ve always sort of worked as a mercenary. I imagine wherever we settle someone will need a fighter.” He paused. “There are always wars to be fought,” he said softly, and Merlin nodded quietly in agreement. “How are you finding the shoes?” Merlin’s had fallen apart from falling into a snowdrift; he’d had to slap some together from an old pair of Belvedere’s and some of the leftover skins from the village.
“Sore, but breaking in nicely. I used to do a lot of walking, but that was before I went to Camelot…” He trailed off into nothing and stared at his feet.
“You must be very worried,” Belvedere said softly, and Merlin nodded.
“They’re my friends, and I don’t even know if they’re alive. But I still have Arthur,” he added, and Belvedere looked at him oddly. “I mean, I still have the hope of rescuing Arthur,” he corrected quickly.
“Not if Arthur’s body was lost in Camelot.”
Merlin’s stomach wrenched. The thought hadn’t occurred to him…
I don’t think it has been, Arthur murmured when they were walking again. Most of the time he’d stayed silent, letting Merlin save his breath for walking, apart from the occasional soft song he’d hummed gently.
“Do you feel… connected to it?”
Not as much. I just… don’t see any sense in it being gone. And I wouldn’t worry about the others; they are capable of looking after themselves.
Merlin trudged for a while, before continuing. “Do you reckon the others are alright?”
I think they’re probably the last stage of the plan. If this sorcerer wants you, they’ll know that you’re brave enough to come back to rescue your friends, so there’s a good chance they’ll be kept alive.
“You think I’m brave?” Arthur didn’t reply, but Merlin’s heart was carried with a little more than hope. He opened his mouth to reply, and found himself short of breath and gasping slightly.
The air’s getting thin. Save your breath.
Merlin nodded, evening out his breaths, and walked to the sound of Arthur’s soft singing. He stopped and frowned; a soft snow had begun to fall, and he could no longer read Belvedere’s leading footsteps underfoot. He tried calling out to him, but the wind stole his voice; he felt the hot, heavy surges of panic begin to settle in his chest, and he ran, stumbling blindly until he fell into the mouth of a cave.
There was a hot, heavy breath on the back of his neck. An inhuman breath.
Merlin turned round and screamed.
See you all on Sunday ;)