another teenage love story || Arthur/Merlin, PG-13
be careful what you wish for
a fairy-tale about coming out
Arthur/Merlin; PG-13; Little Mermaid AU
In which there is a teenage prince, a thwarted sea witch, and sex on the beach.
[I've been watching Disney's The Little Mermaid over and over, and this grabbed me and wouldn't let go. For the record this is NOT for the help_haiti auction, and I still have 2000 some words of Merlin/Will to finish off sometime this week, no worries.]
Arthur is honestly surprised when Uther calls him into the throne room, to berate him for missing the feast. Having eight outspoken, older sisters (several of whom would skewer him themselves before letting him succeed their father) generally gives him a lot of time to himself, zoning out during unimportant lessons in royal etiquette and policy, skipping off celebrations of he doesn't even know what, since his father's kingdom is a fairly peaceful one and they live under the ocean, so, policy is mostly whether or not they feel like chasing off sharks or pruning the coral that's been ripping holes in passing ships.
The answer to both being no, because Uther feels having an abundance of sharp things under the water will keep the humans above it.
Which is another reason Arthur's smiling and nodding through this lecture, because it's one thing to be absent from the almost-weekly celebrations his father holds (alright, Arthur can't really blame him, he has eight daughters of marrying age who are absolutely terrifying when they all decide to want the same thing, and what they want are parties); it's entirely another to be absent because he was hiding on the rocks near shore, watching humans on the beach.
To admit that, well, he might as well pretend he was smuggling goods to the bloody sea-witch. At least then he might just end up under some kind of house arrest, instead of dead.
(peace is easy to maintain when you have a tendency to execute troublemakers, Arthur figures)
"Have I made myself clear," Uther asks, weary with the understanding that Arthur will do the same thing next week.
"Oh yes," he answers anyway, hands folded behind his back and face mirroring his father's stern look. "I won't disappoint you again."
The trick to telling a lie is to stand by it every time, no matter how well everyone knows it isn't true.
-
And it is very, very untrue. Arthur isn't sure if he could disappoint his father any more if he were actively trying instead of just not making much effort to avoid it. Yes, he could probably resist the temptation to swim up to the surface, climb up out of the water onto rocks where people can see him, where he can see them. But he likes it up there, where he can actually smell the sea, and feel the sun, and just. He's all on his own, away from his father's rules and his overbearing, if loving sisters, and the fact that no one's really expecting him to become much of anything, maybe end up in charge of that stuffy earldom in the canyon south of his father's kingdom.
Actually, if his father ever finds out about this, he thinks, trailing his tail in the water and stretching a bit on his rock, that is exactly the kind of place Uther will send him. Deep down near the bottom of the bloody sea, where it's dark and everything feels tight and heavy. The idea makes his skin crawl and his breath hitch. It's utterly stupid, but, he just feels like he can breathe better in the air. What kind of merman can't breathe under water?
He doesn't much understand it himself; he can't expect his father to.
A whistle cuts the air, and he rolls over, tousled blond head popping up over the water-worn edge of his perch to stare intently at the shore. In a moment he'll swim closer, find another rock to hide behind, and stay there until dark willing himself to go up there, heart hammering in his chest because the idea is terrifying but oh, how he wants to crawl up onto the sand and say hello.
The familiar figure makes its way to the tide-line, wandering its usual path through the shallow waves in bare feet and rolled up--whatever they are, the skin that people wear on their legs. This one has skinny legs, with dark hair that matches the rest, and so pale for someone who walks the open shore every afternoon.
Which is why Arthur misses the evening feasts, and why his father absolutely cannot know where he is. Because, you see, there's a boy.
There's a boy. Arthur had watched him from far off enough that he hadn't known, at first, swimming home each night with a tight chest, going soft and sentimental over dark, wind-torn hair and the way the human moved, so different from anything under the sea. And one day he followed the tide in and saw the flat chest and angular jaw and none of the feelings went away, just cemented, now that he could put a face to them.
-
And, well, having already done such fundamentally stupid things as visit the surface and watch humans, and maybe just a little bit fall in love with a boy, Arthur isn't surprised when his actions continue to show a deep lack of judgment. It's probably for the best that Morgana is going to succeed the king, just as soon as she can find a man who isn't absolutely terrified of her to marry.
Now that man, he'll deserve to be king.
Arthur probably deserves to be harpooned and his corpse left for bottom-feeders, at this point, swimming hard for shore with the dark-haired boy limp in his arms. His father and his blasted pointy coral, had ripped a hole in their ship, right when Arthur was climbing up the side to get a closer look at it all, and of course this stupid bastard doesn't know how to go down with a sinking ship without drowning.
Not that he really knows if he's a stupid bastard, or anything about him. It was only in the confusion that he figured out the boy's name, someone screaming Merlin as he went under, and Arthur followed.
He doesn't even notice that he's finally on the beach, finally crawling up on the sand the way he's always so afraid to. Merlin is limp and soggy and Arthur still has to stare at him, still has to wonder at this creature that can't be that different from him but is. Merlin doesn't even look like the other mermen, all soft flesh and stark bone in contrast with their muscle, built from pulling themselves through the water. He's pretty like the girls, but not like them, either. His face is all angles, chapped from wind and sun, pale as stripped coral--
--alright, maybe that's the being half-drowned part. Arthur stops oggling him long enough to roll off and thump him on the chest, wake him up enough to choke and spit and moan. He's never heard Merlin's voice before tonight, never this close, and instead of doing the sensible thing and pulling himself back into the water, he stays, watching bright blue eyes slit and open. Merlin is hoarse and weak, and Arthur likes that too, in a way: he's never really felt like much use to anyone, and here he's just saved a life.
Okay, drowned humans aren't something to fawn over, and Merlin rolls over and throws up and coughs for a very long time, clutches his head and mewls in a truly pathetic way before he can pay some bleary attention to Arthur, but just before he passes out again he says thank you. That's the part Arthur keeps, the secret buried next to his heart where no one can see it: he went to the surface, and he saved a human, he let himself be seen, let himself stay within arm or weapon's reach, and his human said thank you. Merlin said thank you.
-
Except, it's not actually hidden where no one can see it, it's all over his face; it's in his voice, it comes off his body like electricity, it's in his heartbeat that travels through the water to touch every other being in it. Morgana teases him at breakfast and he just smiles at her, utterly careless and disarming, and she spends the rest of the meal watching him instead of eating.
Uther asks him to stay after, and right, obviously, he missed another feast. His father is trying something new today, actually forcing himself to bring up the dreaded subject of Arthur's mother and how she doted on him and how much they all miss her, and asking, without using any of the actual words, straining to understand what has gotten into his son, if Arthur has any interest in his princely duties at all.
And he says no.
Cheerfully.
Just, no.
"Oh not really," he answers airily, not noticing until he sees Uther looking horrified, and then he's also horrified, trying to remember what they were talking about. Before he can attempt to explain, before he can remind his father yet again that he's really bollocks at this whole good son routine and listening and paying attention, Uther is quietly dismissing him and he's floating dejectedly out of the hall, into the ranks of his eavesdropping sisters, most of whom are hiding their mouths behind their hands and giving him looks of profound sympathy.
So he does another stupid thing, and huffs a petulant lie about his room before swimming off for shore.
-
Then it's like connecting dots, point a to point b of sheer stupidity. He reaches the shore in time to find Merlin out early, wandering the beach, wading out into the water until his leg-skin-things are soaked and Arthur has to duck behind a rock to avoid his stricken gaze, and he realizes Merlin is looking for him.
He imagines his father's temper; then remembers his dismissal, so quiet, so weary, tired of trying with him, and he starts to swim forward.
Which is precisely when his sister and future queen grabs him by the arm and drags him back under the water, to scream at him in a very undignified way. "Have you lost your mind," she asks, knowing what Uther said, knowing what Arthur is reacting to, but also knowing how heartbroken their father would be if anything ever happened to his only son. To any of them, but especially Arthur.
Arthur, though, Arthur's forgotten that. "He doesn't even want me," he cries, shoving her away, feeling so deeply betrayed, that she's followed him, that she's found his secret place and his secret boy, all of the things that were his alone. "Nobody wants me, I don't even want me!" And with all the teenage angst he can muster, he turns and throws himself into the depths, into the dark waters where he can't breathe and can't be free, but at least he can hide.
-
He comes to point c.
Well, point c comes to him, a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness, the crackling, smooth glide of eelskin over his flesh startling him from his sulk. "Who's there?
Morgana?"
The eel laughs at his little voice, and it cuts to the heart of him, that laugh. Makes him feel small and worthless all over again, the kingdom's little baby prince, hiding under the reef and crying like a girl. "Go away," he mutters.
"Ohhh," the eel has a voice that hums and hisses at once, echoing in the water. It's completely creepy and feels gross on his skin, like there's oil coming off its body, separating from the water and rising through it. It curls around his middle and he can feel its voice there, too. "The poor, poor prince. I was only teasing."
Which, obviously.
"I know someone who can help," it continues, its glowing eyes the only thing to focus on in the dark, moving away as it uncoils from his waist and glides off. Unthinking, Arthur follows. "I know someone who can bring you and your human--" his throat constricts, with the idea that anyone knows "--together."
The eyes go down into the deeper dark, until he can't even find them anymore. Arthur knows he should turn around, find Morgana and make her promise not to tell by promising not to go back, and he should never go back, return to the safety of the palace and--
and just--
The whole sea presses down on him, and he swallows his tears, swallows his nerves, and feels his way down after glowing gold eyes and a promise.
-
At first Arthur isn't sure about the whole thing--human for three days, get the guy or get turned into a weepy little urchin on Nimueh's wall--because he's cocked up everything else in his life thus far, and he doesn't even know if Merlin likes boys, much less boys who crawl up out of the sea because they can't walk yet.
But, still running on the fumes of his tantrum, Arthur signs on the dotted line and downs the potion, twisting his way out of the cave and pulling himself to the surface as his tail burns, splits, grows new bones and sheds its scales. Then he's less worried about which way Merlin leans, and more worried about being in more pain than he has ever felt in his life.
Getting the guy, however, turns out to be ridiculously easy, and he can almost hear Nimueh screaming and gnashing her teeth as Merlin tackles him back into the surf. "I knew you were real," he whispers, hoarse again, still hoarse, Arthur doesn't know. Arthur has never felt naked before, but now he has all these parts he doesn't know what to do with, laid bare for Merlin to see, to straddle in the water as he touches Arthur's face and hair and gets all breathless with recognition.
He has a million questions, all of them about Arthur, all of his attention and his touches and his bright, open smile for Arthur, and it doesn't feel like a stupid thing at all. Arthur at least knows how to use his arms, and he grabs Merlin by those strange, thin shoulders, that weird, extra skin coarse and wet under his hands, and kisses all the words out of him.
Sometimes it just pays to find a straightforward solution.
Clouds gather and thunder booms angrily across the sky, and he just laughs, thinking three sunsets my ass when Merlin grins wider than ever and kisses him back, ignores the sudden sweeps of rain that try to drive them apart and under some kind of cover. Merlin laughs too, asks his name and says Arthur, hums it, when he grinds back against sensitive new skin, making Arthur feel like an eel, full of secret currents.
It isn't until later, when the rain is over and Merlin knows more about Arthur's new body than he does, that they crawl out of the water, ridiculously uncomfortable and laughing it off.
And later still, after he lets Merlin ask his questions and gives a few answers, Merlin takes him by the hands and teaches him to walk.
-
Okay, three days in, he realizes his mistake. Maybe it would have been better if Merlin hadn't been the kind of tart that threw himself at strangers on the beach, and Arthur had some time to think about being human for the rest of his life, and never seeing his father or sisters ever again.
He hadn't even said goodbye, is the thing. He'd just thrown a fit, disappeared, and there's no way for any of them to know that, aside from learning how to wear shoes and trousers and eat with little pointy utensils that he's sure his father would enjoy, he's alright. He really should have asked Nimueh about leaving him a note, or like, going over to the palace to gloat a little bit about turning the prince into a human.
Clearly she'd wanted to gloat about turning him into a pet urchin far more, but Arthur isn't really sorry about ruining that for her. If Merlin had rejected him, he might have had a dramatic moment and not minded being an urchin, so unloved would he be, but he's currently in Merlin's chambers, overlooking the sea from the castle window and thinking clearly for the first time in weeks.
It's not that he wants to go back, really. Now that he has legs, there are so many new things to try--running, dancing, riding horses--that the idea of having them fused back together and set to one specific purpose is horrifying. And he has Merlin, who is funny and sweet and took the whole thing extremely well, once he stopped sucking Arthur's face long enough to let him explain.
"That is absolutely brilliant," he'd said, wide-eyed and excited because his mysterious new friend used to be magic, which made Arthur laugh because no, Nimueh was magic, and Uther hates magic almost as much as he hates humans. Merlin likes his laugh, apparently, and his smile, and his eyes, and his hair, and his legs with their fresh, clumsy knees and fine gold hairs. It's a list he continually adds to and, Arthur suspects, could be easily summarized with everything.
That, more than anything, is reason to stay.
What he wants is--well. He doesn't even know. He thought this was all he wanted, to get away from being the little prince of an underwater kingdom, where he wasn't anything anyone needed, anything his father wanted, and talk to Merlin, and maybe more besides.
Merlin smiles at that, reaching over to brush his hair out of his face. "Couldn't you just tell him? I'm sure he'd just be glad you're alright--"
"What would you know about it," Arthur snaps, because Merlin doesn't even know his father, which is pretty unfair since Arthur doesn't know his mother, either, which is sort of the crux of the whole thing. "He hates humans, if I. If he knew about this, he'd hate me too."
Merlin asks why. "Because they killed my mother."
And then it's quiet, for a very long time, while Merlin is sorry on behalf of everyone who ever walked on two legs and maybe hates himself, a bit, and finally says, "Well, he knows you didn't--"
"See," Arthur interrupts, because zoning out during his lessons means he has absolutely no manners, "that's the thing. I did."
-
Like all of the utterly stupid, utterly horrible things Arthur has done, it started with a trip to the surface. He'd only been a few years old, already choking on the wake of his sisters, and escaped them long enough to swim up and up toward the distant lights.
His mother, being, as much as he could recall, a proper and motherly sort, had gone straight after him, swimming fast enough that he'd gotten excited, he'd thought it a game of chase and her desperate cries just part of the fun.
And then she'd screamed, and he'd stopped, dead in the water. He'd rolled over, looked up at the stars then back, where a ship had passed, where his mother was being pulled up in a net with millions of fish, and her cries were drowned out by the triumph of the crew.
Morgana had found him, of course, jerked him down under the surface as he'd tried to swim after her, as he'd jumped through the water and cried, tried desperately to catch up, though he had no idea what he'd planned to do once he got there. By then she'd be on the deck, strangled by ropes or buried under the bodies of her subjects, or spotted and torn apart by men.
Nothing the youngest of nine could do anything about.
Morgana knew that even before he did, dragging him down by the arms and not even scolding him, just squeezing his arms and staring her fear, her grief into him with wide green eyes. Shaking him and saying you, you, you, before she realized what she was doing, and broke, and clutched him to her chest to tell him it wasn't his fault, even if it clearly was.
-
The funny thing is, when he's done telling it, Merlin's the one who pretends not to be crying, and Arthur's the one putting his hand out and touching Merlin's hair until he chokes and apologizes and needs to hold onto Arthur for a minute.
Arthur sighs and pets his hair, feeling awkward in his skin for the first time since the change: signing away his fins and getting Merlin to kiss him was the easy part. Making sure Merlin still wanted to kiss him after those three days was the trial, and he doesn't think it's ever really going to end.
-
He cops out.
Well, first he spends the next week brooding, wondering if it's worth his father's reaction to ease everyone's mind. Merlin's mother, Hunith, is ridiculously kind to him. She doesn't ask questions like her son, instead eying Arthur like she already knows, or maybe like she knows as much as she needs to and doesn't care about the rest.
"She knows you need a mom," Merlin says, when he asks. "And she doesn't, you know, have nine kids to hassle her. It's nice having you."
Arthur really doesn't think Uther's reaction to Merlin would be, this boy needs a paternal influence, so he broods some more and ends up writing a letter, putting it in a bottle and letting the current have it.
In the weeks that follow, his mood worsens, his nerves tighten in his stomach and he figures this is point d on the list of stupid things he's done. He has no way of knowing if Uther still doesn't know, or if he's given up completely.
-
Apparently, somewhere in week two, Morgana's maid found his note, which meant Morgana found his note, which meant Uther was lectured within an inch of his patience about its contents before he even got to hear Arthur's side of the story.
Which is why he took another few weeks to seek Arthur out, and he's still sending off waves of frustration when they meet, head tipped back, eyes narrowed disdainfully at the rowboat Arthur's sitting in, bobbing on the waves instead of in them. He can still swim, of course, it just seems useless to pretend like that.
"Morgana tells me you've taken up with a--" man? human? Uther can't even say it, so Arthur fills in the blanks. The important part is Morgana told him, anyway, with its subtle jab--Uther had to hear about it from her, not his son, and it isn't doing Arthur any favors.
Right now he'd really like to just put his head in his hands and wait for his father to have his say, but he's still his father's son, still a prince, and he's not going to sit there staring at his feet. Even if Uther stares at them first.
"I know, it was stupid, it was everything you told me to never do. But I'm never going to be, well, anything. I've got eight sisters who make better princes than I do, and I don't know what I'm supposed to be up here either, but at least I don't have anyone to compete with."
That was pretty future-kingly, he thinks with something that's more disgust than pride. He managed to explain himself while completely avoiding the point.
Uther hasn't uncrossed his arms, though, so it probably went over his head. "So I suppose you're happy now, and that's all that matters?" Which, in some kind of fairy-tale ending, Arthur thinks would be the case.
He doesn't laugh, though. It's not a funny question, not when his father is looking at him like he would have done better to let them believe he was dead. "No," he says, completely honest now. "I'm not happy at all. I thought if I came up here, and ran away from you, and got Merlin to love me that would be it. Everything would make sense and I'd live happily ever after, and Morgana would become queen and you'd all just go on with your lives, but--"
and his voice breaks, which he's not proud of, but it's a very big but--
"I don't want you to go on with your lives. I want," his face heating, his throat tight, like maybe those are going to split into another pair of legs, and he can't fucking say it, I want you to love me too.
Uther doesn't soften, Arthur isn't sure his father even has it in him, to soften, not for him, but he deigns to reach out, draw the boat closer with his hand, and drop a heavy coral ring between Arthur's feet, snatching his hand away before the two can touch. It's not something Arthur ever thought he'd have, the royal seal carved gently into the brittle ring. He gapes at it, any tears he'd been ready to shed forgotten.
"I'm still angry," Uther admits. "I still think this is a mistake, and I wish you'd chosen differently, but Morgana assures me this will grow easier with time." Probably because the only choice Morgana will give him is to give in, or suffer her lectures on his deathbed, Arthur assumes, based on Uther's pronounced grimace. "But you will always be my son, and if you throw this into the sea, it will find me, and I will find you."
The way he says it, it should sound like a threat, but Arthur can't remember his father ever being this nice to anyone, him least of all. The princely thing to do would be tip up his chin and say thank you, promise to keep it safe, or something, but Arthur gave up on being a prince before he even gave up on being a merman. Stripping off his jacket in a surprisingly fluid motion, he tackles Uther back into the water before he can draw away, retreat into the depths that now separate them. It takes a minute for Uther to realize his son isn't attacking him, and another still to return the embrace, but he does. Eventually he does.
"Thank you," Arthur breathes, remembering Merlin retching on the shore, ugly and pitiful and half-dead, and how he'd stayed anyway, loved him anyway, and maybe that's something he inherited from his father. Thank you, over and over, until Uther draws a wet hand through his mostly dry hair, understanding what he really means.