Fic: London, Said He (11/12)
Title: London, Said He
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 6100 (this chapter); 45k total
Betas: percygranger, messyangel81
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Chapter 1: Camelot
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Chapter 3: Gwaine
Chapter 4: Getting to Know You
Chapter 5: Arthur
Chapter 6: The Glorious Life of a PA
Chapter 7: Trouble in Paradise
Chapter 8: Cooking Classes
Chapter 9: The Confession
Chapter 10: Kay
Chapter 11: Back to Camelot
Merlin kept his eyes shut for a moment, letting the queasy feeling dissipate. He would have kept them shut for longer, but then a foot caught on his torso, and a surprised squawk emanated from above him.
“Merlin?” Gaius blinked down at him, clutching the edge of his worktable for support. “I - how long have you been lying on the floor?” He sniffed, his nostrils flaring. “What’s that smell?”
Merlin looked down. The half-eaten hot dog was resting on his stomach, warming the skin underneath and leaving a greasy smear on his tunic. “It’s a hot dog.” He took a small bite and chewed thoughtfully.
“What?” Gaius was looking at him as though he had gone mad. Well, perhaps he had. He was still lying on the floor, his back pressed against the stone, a hot dog in one hand.
Merlin glanced down at his outfit, but for whatever reason, he was back in his typical Camelot clothing, boots and all, instead of the shirt and jeans he had been wearing in London. His red neckerchief smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and hot dogs.
“Merlin, whatever is the matter?” Gaius reached down and tugged on Merlin’s arm. Merlin pushed himself up, his back protesting. He managed to stumble to his feet, cramming the last bit of hot dog in his mouth. He really should savour it - it was the last hot dog he would get to taste in who knows how long - but for some reason, he was starving. Besides, the cook’s roast chicken was better than Kay’s charred attempt at a meal. You’d think he’d have taken some cooking classes… maybe they weren’t any fun without Arthur there?
Gaius had levelled the eyebrow of doom at him. “Merlin?”
“Sorry, but it’s rather a long story, and I don’t have time to explain. That is to say, I do, but I… never mind.” He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts to jangle back into their proper positions.
He knew for a fact that he could save Arthur; Kay had said so. Arthur was destined to survive this. Everyone in the future had gone on about King Arthur, not Prince Arthur, that one bloke who was poisoned before he became king.
Assuming it was poison.
Merlin turned to Gaius, who was now looking at Merlin with a confused head tilt. “Do you have any more of that potion that causes the appearance of death?”
Gaius’ forehead scrunched up and his eyes gained a faraway look. “Hmmm. Yes, I do have some on hand. Why?”
“We need to kill Arthur.” He looked away from Gaius’ raised eyebrows. “Not actually.”
Gaius crossed his arms over his chest, emitting the long-suffering sigh he reserved especially for Merlin’s special brand of reckless idiocy. Merlin had missed that sound.
“Look,” he said, as Gaius’ frown deepened, “Assume that someone is planning on poisoning Arthur. What’s the best way to thwart them?” Merlin wiped his left hand on his tunic absentmindedly and started pacing the tiny space of the workshop. “That was rhetorical, by the way. We need to get to him first, obviously. We need to make whoever is trying to poison Arthur think they’ve succeeded. When we announce that Arthur isn’t really dead, we can suss out the assassin.”
Gaius nodded. At least, Merlin thought he had. He was only watching peripherally as he stalked to and fro. “So, we poison him - ah, that is, we give Arthur the potion, bring him in here, convince everyone he’s dead, I get arrested-“
“For heaven’s sake, Merlin! Why would you allow yourself to be arrested?”
He stopped in his pacing and looked over at Gaius, who was looking increasingly disgruntled. Merlin cleared his throat. “I… Look, perhaps I should explain. I have to be arrested because I’ve already been. Arrested. By Leon. But not yet. After Arthur dies.”
Silence echoed throughout the room. Merlin could have sworn he heard crickets. Wait, did Camelot even have crickets?
“We don’t have time for this. Give me the potion, and I’ll go explain to Arthur.”
Gaius blinked a few times before turning to his shelf of potions, examining a few, and then turning back to Merlin with a translucent green bottle. He pressed it into Merlin’s palm, curving his fingers around Merlin’s own, before wordlessly turning and opening up a large tome on the table.
Merlin stood stock still for a few moments, looking down at the bottle in his hands. “And the antidote?”
“I’ll have it ready by the time you get back.”
Neither man looked at the other as Merlin pushed through the door and started making his way to Arthur’s chambers.
Arthur lifted an eyebrow when he saw Merlin slip into his chambers. “Strange. I seem to remember telling you to muck out the stables. Did you get lost on your way there?”
Merlin didn’t bother to reply; he simply clapped a hand over Arthur’s mouth and moved to whisper in his ear. “Arthur. This is important. I believe someone means to make an attempt on your life this morning.”
Arthur froze, and as he cupped his chin gently, Arthur’s lips pressing into his palm, Merlin couldn’t help but remember how that mouth had felt against his skin. He let go as though burned, and Arthur turned to stare at him.
“Merlin,” he hissed, “you had better have a damn good explanation for this.”
“Someone means to poison you,” Merlin said, his voice pitched low, “but not if we do it first.”
Arthur grimaced, turning his head away from Merlin for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Merlin blinked.
Arthur shoved him in the shoulder, glaring. “Well? Tell me what I need to do. Quickly.”
“Put this potion in your goblet, and drink the entire thing. It’s the same one we used when we needed to make your father cry.”
“Yet another example of your cunning plans.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Merlin said, affronted, and Arthur smirked. “Wait to drink this until I come back, though.” He slipped the potion into Arthur’s hand, and he flicked his eyes down to watch as Arthur tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Oh, and I may act a bit strangely. Just play along.”
Arthur nodded, once, then turned away. Merlin was halfway out the door when he heard Arthur’s voice, just barely above a whisper. “I trust you.”
Merlin turned towards Arthur. His back was to him, stiff and ramrod straight, muscles tense beneath the thin fabric of his tunic. The early morning sunlight streamed through his hair, tinging the edges gold.
“I know.”
Merlin closed the door quietly and slipped behind the tapestry at the end of the corridor.
It took surprisingly little time before he heard muffled voices inside Arthur’s chamber, and the slow thud of footsteps as a knight passed nearby.
“Gaius! Someone!” his own voice called.
“Merlin?” cried Leon’s voice. Merlin peeked out from behind the curtain just in time to see Leon throwing open the doors to Arthur’s chamber and rushing inside. After a few moments of talking, other-Merlin emerged, looking pale and frightened. His eyes darted back and forth and he started scuttling towards the tapestry where Merlin was hiding. He ducked back behind as his past self rushed closer, panting heavily. “I need more time,” he started muttering, and then half familiar words. It took Merlin a moment to realise he was reciting the spell.
Merlin whipped the parchment out of his tunic and started reading the words along with other-Merlin the second time. It was working. He could feel magic stretching between the two of them, tingling in his extremities. He chanced a peek outside the curtain, and other-Merlin muttered the last words of the spell with him, his eyes closed, a look of intense concentration on his face.
Merlin opened his eyes to see sun streaming through tree branches. He could feel moisture seeping into his tunic and breeches from the wet grass beneath him.
Stupid spell, Merlin thought. Other-Merlin must have succeeded in casting it at the same time as Merlin; both had been transported somewhere.
Merlin pushed himself to a sitting position as his vertigo faded.
He was sitting at the shore of a great lake, with a hill rising in a small island in the middle. He’d been here before.
There was a lone figure standing knee-deep in the water, staring out towards the horizon. A boat floated in the water a short distance away, growing smaller as it moved towards the island.
“Who was it?” he asked, and the figure turned towards him.
Merlin watched his other self stiffen, saying nothing as they stared at each other. Finally, his shoulders drooped, and he started slogging his way back towards shore.
“Freya?” Merlin asked, but he knew it was wrong, even as he said it; this man looked older than himself, if only by a few years. If his age was not apparent in the broad strength of his shoulders, then it was made obvious by the shadows in his expression.
“No,” future-Merlin said. His eyes pored over Merlin’s face, as if looking for something lost. “Suppose you want me to send you back?”
Merlin nodded. “Did you… need me to send you somewhere?”
Future-Merlin swallowed visibly, his adam’s apple bobbing slowly, and his eyes widened. “I…”
Merlin waited.
“Why do you think he sent you here?”
The question threw Merlin off-balance. He hadn’t really thought about how the spell worked, really. Kay had used it to send him back to before Arthur’s death, so he’d have a chance to do something about it. Merlin had sent his other self to the future, to find Kay and the future incarnations of Gwaine and Arthur. Because that’s how it had happened to him. He imagined he’d send back his jailed self to witness Arthur’s death. He’d need to go back to do that, though. So where had his other self sent him?
“What is here, anyway? It must be important.”
Future-Merlin smiled and turned away.
“I guess,” Merlin said, “he sent me here because he was thinking-“
“Because you were thinking,” future-Merlin corrected.
Merlin cleared his throat. “I was thinking that I couldn’t lose him.”
Future-Merlin spread his hands in a placating gesture. “And here you are.”
“Is Arthur…”
“Here?” Future-Merlin dropped his hands. “No. Not anymore.”
“Is future-me always this cryptic?” Merlin asked, and a short, shocked laugh burst out of future-Merlin’s throat.
“I guess I just don’t really feel like explaining. Sorry.” He didn’t look particularly sorry.
“Well, can you send me back, then?” Merlin scuffed the toe of his boot on the patch of dirt where he was standing.
Future-Merlin shook his head. “I don’t remember the spell.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t keep it on your person at all times in case of emergency time travel?”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I just don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Oh.” They stood there for a moment in silence, staring at each other. Future-Merlin looked exhausted. “Do you want to start a fire, maybe?”
Future-Merlin’s shoulders drooped in relief. “I’ll get you back before dawn.”
“All right.”
Merlin came to in Arthur’s chambers. His back was a bit stiff from staying up all night talking, but his future self had shown him some neat tricks with making animal shapes from the flames. They hadn’t spoken much, simply sat together on a fallen log, thighs pressed together, staring into the fire.
He pried his eyes open and looked around, but the room was empty. There was no sign of Arthur. The spoon of porridge still lay on the floor where Merlin had flung it, and the goblet had gone missing.
He peered out the cracked door into the corridor, but it appeared to be empty. He took a shortcut to Gaius’ room and managed to get there without being spotted by Leon.
“It’s done,” Merlin said, a bit breathless, as he threw open the doors of Gaius’ chambers. The bed was still empty. “Has Leon been here yet?”
“Hmmm? No, I’ve not seen him.” Gaius smiled weakly at Merlin over his bubbling potion cauldron. “I’m almost finished with the antidote.”
“Good. Can you hide me in here until I get arrested?”
Gaius raised an eyebrow menacingly. His disapproving glare could beat out Arthur’s any day. “Perhaps you could explain that. Why, exactly, are you going to be arrested?”
“For Arthur’s murder. Uh. There’s something you should know-“ But then Merlin heard footsteps outside the door. “Bollocks. Hide me. Now.”
Merlin ducked into an empty storage barrel and Gaius carefully tucked the stiff cloth over his head. He had no time to pour in rice to complete the disguise. Merlin squirmed uncomfortably, flexing his muscles occasionally so they wouldn’t cramp. Even without the weight of the rice, the cloth over his head was suffocating.
The sound of the doors being thrown open stopped Merlin mid-thought. He could hear most everything, but not being able to see was maddening.
“Gaius.” Leon was speaking, his voice strained. “Merlin said to…” There was a pause, and some shuffling. They must have been laying Arthur on the spare bed. “He’s been poisoned.”
Gaius spoke, his voice sharp and businesslike. “Do we know with what?”
“Merlin thought,” Leon said, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “I brought the goblet.” There was a soft thud of metal on wood.
“I’ll have to perform tests. If it’s recoverable, I’ll know.” A pause, and a short cough, before Gaius spoke again. “Inform the king.”
“N-now? Before we know for sure?”
Gaius’ voice was softer now. “He deserves to know.” The door creaked on its hinges, and Gaius said, “Thank you. For bringing him here straight away.”
“Of course.”
“If there were anything to be done…”
The room was silent for so long, Merlin was sure Leon had left, but then his voice rang out, sudden and abrupt. “There isn’t, is there?”
“I can’t say for sure.”
Merlin held his breath until he heard the soft snick of the door pressing into its frame. There was no click of a deadbolt, and Merlin smiled at the thought of Gwaine’s flat in London. At least the doors in Camelot would never lock him out of his own chambers.
“Merlin,” Gaius hissed, his voice near enough to the slats of the barrel that the consonants were only slightly muffled. “When did you give Arthur the poison?”
“Um, just before Leon found him? He should have taken him here straight away. I don’t know if he stopped somewhere first…”
The warning bells started chiming before Gaius could properly gape.
“We don’t have the luxury of time to-“ The door squeaked, cutting Gaius off mid-sentence. The faint murmur of the guards outside filtered in, their voices indistinct. Merlin tried not to give himself away by breathing too loudly.
“Where is he?” Oh, shite. Uther.
“Your Majesty. Prince Arthur is-“
A gasp, and the rustle of clothing. “Was it sorcery?”
“We have determined it was most likely a poison, sire.”
“Whoever did this…” Uther’s voice sounded strangled. Merlin remembered his face when he’d seen Arthur die the first time, pale and drawn. He trailed off and Gaius’ footsteps retreated. Other than the occasional rustle, Uther was silent in his grief.
The silence was broken by footsteps, and a soft thud as the door swung open against the back wall. “Is it true?” And, oh. Gwen.
Merlin had forgotten that Gwen had been here. He’d been so overwhelmed by his own grief that he’d completely missed everyone else’s.
“I must depart,” Uther said, sounding extremely uncomfortable.
“Of course, sire.”
Gwen was quiet until the door clicked shut. “Is he…?”
“I’m so sorry,” Gaius said.
“No.” Gwen’s voice cracked on that single syllable. And then, Merlin heard a shuddering breath, another, and then…
Don’t cry, he wanted to say. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.
But he couldn’t say anything.
“I’m here,” Gaius said, over and over, and Merlin squirmed in his barrel, made uncomfortable by more than just the cramped space.
What could have been mere moments later, but felt like an eternity, the door blasted open one more time, and this time, Merlin knew what was coming.
“Gaius?” his own voice called.
“Merlin.” Now that he was listening for it, Merlin could tell there was shock in Gaius’ tone. Come to think of it, he’d never gotten to the multiple Merlins part of his explanation. Or any part of his explanation, really. Damn.
“He’s gone, Merlin.” Gwen’s voice was soft, the strain in it still audible.
“What?” Was his voice really that high-pitched? He’d always fancied himself as more manly-sounding than that. Circumstances being what they were, however…
Why, oh why, had he chosen to hide in the barrel? He could be in the stables. He could be in Arthur’s chambers. Anywhere but here, reliving this awful scene. Even knowing that it was all a ruse didn’t make it any better.
“Ar- Arthur. He’s…”
“I don’t…”
“Prince Arthur is dead.”
Nausea churned inside Merlin’s stomach, just as it had the first time he’d heard those words.
“No. It’s not- I was just speaking with him this morning. He told me to polish his armour. He was fine then. He was fine. He’s not-“
“Merlin,” Gaius said.
Gwen’s voice was shaky. “Merlin, I’m sorry, I know what he meant to you…”
Gaius shushed her. “He meant something to all of us, dear. Perhaps… it would be best to leave the two of them.”
“Of… of course.” Fabric rustled, and footsteps shuffled unevenly. The door clicked again, and now there was just the sound of uneven breathing.
Oh, god, other-Merlin was crying.
Merlin was stuck in a room with his past self, who was sobbing over his best friend’s death, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t block out the sound, couldn’t scratch the infuriating itch that had sprung up on his elbow, couldn’t say anything, couldn’t make it stop, and if he had to sit here listening to himself he was going to go mad-
“Merlin,” Gaius’ voice cut through the tension, through Merlin’s thoughts, through other-Merlin’s hysterical sobs. “Merlin. Merlin, look at me.”
Silence.
“Merlin, you have to leave.”
“I… what?”
Merlin never wanted to hear his own voice again. How did Kay manage it without going mad? Merlin forced himself to ignore the rest of the conversation, all of his muscles tensed. What came next? As soon as Merlin was gone, they could revive Arthur. They didn’t have much time before the antidote would lose effect, and Arthur really would be dead. And all of this would be for nothing.
Merlin blinked into the too-bright daylight as Gaius ripped the cloth covering away from his head. “What in the devil’s name was that?” Gaius’ voice was spiked with panic.
“I’m sorry! I just… I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Is the antidote ready?”
Gaius hurried over to the bench and grabbed the glass vial in trembling fingers. “You’d better give it to him,” he said. “My hand is not terrible steady right now.”
“Right,” Merlin said, and tipped the contents in Arthur’s mouth without a blink.
“Come on, come on,” he murmured, pressing his fingers to the side of Arthur’s throat to coax the antidote down. There was still a drop of antidote clinging to the corner of Arthur’s mouth. He pushed the drop in between Arthur’s lips with his index finger without thinking, before drawing his hand back as though burned.
Arthur just… laid there.
“Come on!” Merlin shouted. “It can’t have been too long, it can’t, wake up!”
Just before Merlin was about to smack him, Arthur coughed.
“Oh thank fuck,” Merlin muttered. Gaius threw him a strange look.
Arthur glared up at Merlin. “Did it work?”
“Which part?” Merlin asked, looking down at Arthur with a frown. “Did you notice you’re not dead?”
“You idiot… you said you were doing this because of an assassination attempt!”
“Well, like I said, you’re not dead, are you?”
Arthur grinned, and Merlin’s heart stuttered in his chest.
Gaius cleared his throat. “I think we would all appreciate an explanation, Merlin.”
“Right. Explanation. This might take a while.” He side-eyed Arthur. Well. He’d done it in the future, hadn’t he? So, maybe he could do it here, too.
“So, the short version is, Arthur died and so I travelled through time to try to find a cure, failed, and decided to poison him myself so we could figure out why he died in the first place.”
“Travelled through time?” Arthur said, mouth dropping open.
“Um. Yes. Sorry. I’m magic?” He wiggled his fingers and rotated his wrists in what Gwaine had affectionately called jazz hands. New Gwaine, that is. He’d have to start distinguishing between them.
“I… what?” Arthur said, his mouth gaping open, before Gaius walloped him upside the head with a book on medicinal herbs. A very thorough book. With many pages.
“What was that for?” Merlin asked, gaping.
“You intend to reveal your magic to Arthur? Now?” Gaius shook the encyclopaedia at him. “You idiot!”
“So you knocked him unconscious?”
“Better than having him inform his father, who is currently out for your blood, that you are a sorcerer!”
“Okay, maybe not my best thought out plan.”
Gaius sighed. “And what was this about you getting arrested?”
“Oh, right! Yes. They should be taking me to the dungeons about now. Oh, they might come here, actually. So you can confirm the cause of Arthur’s death.”
A knock sounded on Gaius’ door.
“Bollocks!” Merlin yelped. He’d really need to unlearn all this new vocabulary at some point. Curse New Gwaine and his filthy mouth. “Hide me!”
“Hide yourself!” Gaius hissed between clenched teeth, as he started walking towards the door.
Merlin dove for the door to his own chambers and slipped inside, heart pounding.
After a few moments, the soft sounds of voices stopped, and Merlin chanced a peek outside. Gaius’ room was empty, with Arthur lying limply on the bed, breaths shallow, and an untended potion simmering over a small fire. He moved fully into the room and went to stand by Arthur’s bedside.
Arthur stirred, groaning. “My head.”
“Arthur!” Merlin rushed over to him, his hands gently cradling the lump that had formed from Medicinal Herbs and their Components.
Arthur blinked up at Merlin. “I had the oddest dream…”
“Side effect of the poison,” Merlin lied. “How are you feeling?”
“I… terrible, actually.”
Merlin knelt next to the bed and gathered Arthur up in his arms. Maybe Arthur would have him thrown in the stocks for it; Merlin didn’t really care. “I’m glad.”
“You’re glad I feel terrible?” Arthur asked, chuckling, as his hands looped gently around Merlin’s back and squeezed back.
“It’s revenge for all the times you’ve made me feel terrible.”
Arthur pulled back. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He was smiling. “So, what’s the plan?”
Merlin swallowed. “Well, I’ll probably be arrested for your murder. So, prevent my execution, catch the real killer, if there is one-“
“If?” Arthur glared.
“You know how these rumours are, I mean…”
“Merlin, why do I constantly put my life in your hands?” He rolled his eyes.
“Just suicidal, I guess?”
Arthur punched him in the shoulder, then winced. “Oh, gods, my head. It didn’t hurt like this the last time we pulled this trick.”
Merlin flinched guiltily. “Maybe we brewed the antidote wrong.”
Arthur’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? Was that a possibility? So I might not have woken up at all?”
“No!” Merlin blurted. “No, of course not!”
“You fill me with such confidence, Merlin,” Arthur proclaimed dryly, swinging his legs off the side of the bed as he did so. “It’s no wonder I keep you on as my servant.” He started ticking off traits on his hands. “Your stellar service, your natural grace, your punctuality… you never complain about the chores I assign…”
“Oh, shut up,” Merlin said, but he was grinning.
The door opened, and Merlin ducked under the bed, but it was only Gaius. Arthur looked down at him with baffled amusement, but Gaius only sighed noisily. “I have just spoken with the king. He believes you are dead.”
Arthur sighed. “Well, I’m not. Can you get him down here so we can explain?”
Gaius’ eyes flickered to Merlin’s momentarily. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“He wants to arrest me, yeah?” Merlin stood up and brushed off his knees. “Well, perhaps I should go down to the dungeons, then.”
“What?” Arthur asked. “No! What’s wrong with you?”
“You ask me that question every day, Arthur, I’d think you’d know by now-“
“Shut up, Merlin, I’m not letting you go to the dungeons.”
Merlin turned towards Arthur, letting one hand settle on top of his shoulder. Arthur looked up at him from where he sat. “Would you let them execute me for a crime I did not commit?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then I have nothing to worry about.”
“Merlin,” Arthur growled.
And it was that one word, more than anything, that let Merlin know he was home.
“Arthur.”
Arthur stood, brushing Merlin’s hand away. “Fine, have it your way. It’ll be your own fault if my father chops your head off in a fit of rage before I get the chance to talk him out of it.”
“Of course, sire,” Merlin said, not bothering to hide his grin.
Gaius rolled his eyes. “Come, Merlin. Don’t dawdle.”
“Why am I lying about this?” Gaius asked, not for the first time.
“Because he’s… I’m… too grief-stricken to understand anything else.”
“This story is preposterous.”
“It’s emotional! It’ll appeal to his… my… uhhh. What was I saying?”
“Merlin!” Gaius hissed. “I’m never going to remember this.”
“Look, let’s just do a trial run. It’ll be easy.”
“Fine. Merlin. I have a spell for you.”
“That was a terrible start, but fine. Oh, Gaius! I’m so sad! I deserve to die! I can’t live if I’m without Arthur!”
Gaius stood there for a moment, lifting his eyebrows. Merlin couldn’t see them very well in the semi-darkness, but the flickering torches lining the dungeon walls cast long shadows over Gaius’ face, making them appear even bushier than normal.
“Come on, it’s your line.”
“You’re ridiculous. Merlin! Take this spell.”
“No spells can help me when Arthur’s already dead.”
“This one can. It’s… it belonged to Balinor.”
“My father?”
“Yes, I got it from him when… Merlin, how would he have even given this to me? I haven’t seen him since he left for Ealdor!”
“The details are irrelevant, Gaius. Stick to the story.”
Gaius sighed. “Balinor used this to save your mother’s life. It stands to reason that you can use it to save Arthur in the same way.”
“How?”
“How what?” Gaius grimaced at Merlin. There was a soft rustle from the guard’s room, and they both froze. “How long are they going to stay asleep, did you say?”
“Practically until dawn. It’s fine. I tested this spell on Gwaine, once.”
Gaius sighed. “Merlin, you-“
“Yes, yes, be more careful. How did Balinor save my mother?”
Gaius frowned. “He… travelled in time?”
“No, you can’t say that, I won’t understand what that means.”
“Are you finally admitting to being thick-headed?”
“No! I’m grief-stricken! Give me a break! Other me, that is.”
“Then what am I supposed to say?”
Merlin scrubbed his palm across his face. If only he could remember that conversation with Gaius. It was all a blur at this point. “Just say he used it to bring my mum back to life. You don’t know the details.”
“Fine,” Gaius said. “We don’t have much time before someone comes down to check on you.”
“I know,” Merlin said. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”
“What?” Gaius asked, his nose scrunched up in bafflement.
“Um, never mind.”
There was some desperate mumbling, and Gaius wandered back a few minutes later, looking noticeably relieved. “It appears that he believed my story.”
“Good. Now we just have to wait for him to cast the spell.”
Gaius glanced nervously towards the guardroom. “Perhaps I should return to my quarters?”
Merlin nodded absently. The noises coming from other-Merlin’s cell had stopped. Maybe he had already fallen asleep?
As Gaius hiked back to his quarters, Merlin snuck into the cell block where other-Merlin was staying. He found him lying on the floor, unconscious, spell gripped in his fist and tears streaking his cheeks.
“Oh,” Merlin whispered. He unlocked the cell with a whispered onlúcan, slipped inside, and sat down next to other-Merlin, cradling his head in his lap.
“Don’t worry,” Merlin said, running his fingers through his hair. “This will all be better in the morning. You’ll see.” He pried Merlin’s fingers loose from the spell and smoothed it out on the stone so that he could read the words.
With a deep breath, he started reciting the spell that would send himself to witness Arthur’s death. Perhaps it was what started this whole mess. Or maybe it had always been meant to go this way, in an endless loop. It didn’t really matter either way.
When Merlin woke up the next morning, he was alone in the cell, and Arthur was looming over him.
“I think Gwen’s angry with me,” he commented blandly, as Merlin blinked his eyes in the early morning light.
“Oh?”
“She cried and hit me when she found out I was alive.”
“Oh,” Merlin said, stretching. “That’s all right then. I thought she would do worse. You certainly deserved it.”
Arthur grinned. “I don’t have to let you out, you know.”
Merlin pushed out his lower lip and batted his eyelashes. “But then who would muck your stables?”
Arthur laughed, the sunlight streaming behind him and framing his face and torso. Merlin drank in his fill.
“Idiot,” Arthur said, when he’d stopped laughing.
“Prat,” Merlin replied.
“There are worse things to be.”
Yeah, thought Merlin. “So you going to let me out, prat?”
“Maybe.”
When he got back to his chambers, he unfolded the magic spell that he’d slipped into his pocket, smoothed out the creases, and sandwiched it between the pages of his spell book. He had a long way to go before he’d get the chance to return it.
Three weeks later, Merlin was sitting in the armoury scrubbing at Arthur’s breastplate and replaying his kiss with New Arthur. Would he forgive him for leaving without saying goodbye? Technically, Merlin wouldn’t disappear; he’d just become Kay. Would his feelings have changed by then?
He wasn’t really paying attention when the door opened and shut, or even when a shadow fell across the platemail he was polishing, but he definitely noticed when someone cuffed him upside the head and flopped to the floor beside him.
“If I didn’t know you better,” said Gwaine, “I’d say you were avoiding me.”
“Am not,” said Merlin.
“That would be more convincing if you weren’t bright red right now,” Gwaine pointed out.
“Look, it’s just…”
Well. Maybe Merlin couldn’t tell Arthur about his magic. But he could tell someone.
Gwaine raised an eyebrow and waited, his smirk growing wider the longer Merlin sat there fidgeting.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Gwaine nodded solemnly. “I give my word, on the grave of my father, and the ample bosom of my mother, that I shall never breathe a word of what you say.”
Merlin snorted. “Right. I may have been avoiding you, but it’s only because you have a rubbish sense of humour.”
“My jokes are hilarious; it’s the rest of the world that has a poor sense of humour.”
Merlin sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself, got to his feet, and walked over to the armoury door. Gwaine followed his movements with his eyes but said nothing.
Once Merlin had locked the door, he cast a silencing spell so no one could eavesdrop.
Gwaine grinned wide as Merlin’s eyes flashed gold. “About time.”
A wave of relief washed through Merlin and he grinned back. “Now. Have you ever heard of time travel?”
Gwaine shook his head and grabbed a pile of furs from a nearby shelf, settling back and stretching out his legs.
Merlin smiled and returned to the platemail, picking his cloth back up and turning to face Gwaine. “I was the one to poison Arthur.”
Gwaine frowned. “He said he’d worked alone. And you were so shocked when he died. You couldn’t have been in on it.”
Merlin nodded. “I wasn’t, at the time.”
Fifteen minutes later, Merlin hadn’t even gotten to the description of Kay yet, and Percy started banging on the door because he needed to get his practice sword.
Over the next few days, Gwaine and Merlin took to wandering the castle grounds after supper.
“So, in conclusion, you really need to tumble Percy already,” Merlin said, his mouth full of stolen sausages from the kitchens.
Gwaine rolled his eyes. “That was terrible, Merlin. I can’t believe I waited a fortnight to get to the moral of the story.“
Merlin interrupted with an affronted, “Only twelve days!” Gwaine ignored him.
“I figured you’d be spouting off some nonsense about the power of love,” and at this Gwaine waved his hands and pulled a face, showing exactly what he thought of Love with a Capital L, “not telling me that I need to get laid.”
“I’m serious! If New Gwaine did it, why not you?”
“What makes you think I haven’t already?”
Merlin swallowed. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Gwaine said, smirking, and Merlin stuffed the rest of his sausage in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond.
“So when are you going to tumble Arthur?” Gwaine asked, his tone mild.
Merlin chewed thoughtfully, swallowing after a long pause. “It may be a while. But don’t worry. It’ll happen eventually.”
“In the meantime, do you want to give me a go?” Gwaine asked, leering.
“Not in a million years.”
Merlin supposed he deserved the shove.
Arthur’s boat shimmered in the distance, growing hazy as it slid towards Avalon. Merlin felt numb.
It was dark now, Arthur long gone, and still Merlin stood, shivering slightly as the cold dark surrounded him. Every part of him ached. His ankles. His elbows. His earlobes. His nostrils, even.
Merlin wasn’t sure how long he stood there, letting the dark grow steadily thicker, folding him into itself, the stars shining in a swath of sky, reflected in the gentle ripples of the lake below. As the night descended, Merlin let himself be wrapped up in the soft sounds of owls hooting and the rustling of leaves, the cold bite of the wind against his cheeks, the occasional spray of water from the surface of the lake, the smell of earth and water and leaves on the ground. Still, he kept returning to the memory of Arthur’s blood, a tangy copper that filled Merlin’s nose and permeated his head and chest until he could not breathe through the thick cloying taste as Arthur filled his lungs and his brain and his mouth.
Merlin closed his eyes and cleared his mind of Arthur’s last moments.
Instead, he thought of cottage pie, data entry, and cooking classes; of watered-down ale, pumpkin muffins, and charred hot dogs; of blue eyes, golden hair, and laugh lines.
“Who was it?” called out a familiar voice, and Merlin turned around slowly.
It was still strange to see himself. He didn’t think he’d ever really get used to it.
“Freya?”
“No,” Merlin said. “Suppose you want me to send you back?”
“Did you… need me to send you somewhere?”
For a moment, he was tempted; his past self could send him to the past, to see Arthur again. He could try to change things, prevent his death. But it wouldn’t really change anything, would it? Arthur would always die, in the end.
He could go to the future instead, if he wanted. He could visit Kay and claim his happy-ever-after working in Gwaine’s cafe. But no matter how many times he tried to run away from destiny, it always caught up with him, in the end. Besides, if something went wrong - if one or both of them somehow bungled the spell - then they would both be stranded in time. Best not to risk it.
“Why do you think he sent you here?” he asked, instead.
In the morning, Merlin woke alone. The sun rose over the lake, rays rippling pink and gold over its surface. He stood, stretched, and started the long journey into the future.
At least he had something to look forward to.
Epilogue
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 6100 (this chapter); 45k total
Betas: percygranger, messyangel81
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Chapter 1: Camelot
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Chapter 3: Gwaine
Chapter 4: Getting to Know You
Chapter 5: Arthur
Chapter 6: The Glorious Life of a PA
Chapter 7: Trouble in Paradise
Chapter 8: Cooking Classes
Chapter 9: The Confession
Chapter 10: Kay
Chapter 11: Back to Camelot
Merlin kept his eyes shut for a moment, letting the queasy feeling dissipate. He would have kept them shut for longer, but then a foot caught on his torso, and a surprised squawk emanated from above him.
“Merlin?” Gaius blinked down at him, clutching the edge of his worktable for support. “I - how long have you been lying on the floor?” He sniffed, his nostrils flaring. “What’s that smell?”
Merlin looked down. The half-eaten hot dog was resting on his stomach, warming the skin underneath and leaving a greasy smear on his tunic. “It’s a hot dog.” He took a small bite and chewed thoughtfully.
“What?” Gaius was looking at him as though he had gone mad. Well, perhaps he had. He was still lying on the floor, his back pressed against the stone, a hot dog in one hand.
Merlin glanced down at his outfit, but for whatever reason, he was back in his typical Camelot clothing, boots and all, instead of the shirt and jeans he had been wearing in London. His red neckerchief smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and hot dogs.
“Merlin, whatever is the matter?” Gaius reached down and tugged on Merlin’s arm. Merlin pushed himself up, his back protesting. He managed to stumble to his feet, cramming the last bit of hot dog in his mouth. He really should savour it - it was the last hot dog he would get to taste in who knows how long - but for some reason, he was starving. Besides, the cook’s roast chicken was better than Kay’s charred attempt at a meal. You’d think he’d have taken some cooking classes… maybe they weren’t any fun without Arthur there?
Gaius had levelled the eyebrow of doom at him. “Merlin?”
“Sorry, but it’s rather a long story, and I don’t have time to explain. That is to say, I do, but I… never mind.” He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts to jangle back into their proper positions.
He knew for a fact that he could save Arthur; Kay had said so. Arthur was destined to survive this. Everyone in the future had gone on about King Arthur, not Prince Arthur, that one bloke who was poisoned before he became king.
Assuming it was poison.
Merlin turned to Gaius, who was now looking at Merlin with a confused head tilt. “Do you have any more of that potion that causes the appearance of death?”
Gaius’ forehead scrunched up and his eyes gained a faraway look. “Hmmm. Yes, I do have some on hand. Why?”
“We need to kill Arthur.” He looked away from Gaius’ raised eyebrows. “Not actually.”
Gaius crossed his arms over his chest, emitting the long-suffering sigh he reserved especially for Merlin’s special brand of reckless idiocy. Merlin had missed that sound.
“Look,” he said, as Gaius’ frown deepened, “Assume that someone is planning on poisoning Arthur. What’s the best way to thwart them?” Merlin wiped his left hand on his tunic absentmindedly and started pacing the tiny space of the workshop. “That was rhetorical, by the way. We need to get to him first, obviously. We need to make whoever is trying to poison Arthur think they’ve succeeded. When we announce that Arthur isn’t really dead, we can suss out the assassin.”
Gaius nodded. At least, Merlin thought he had. He was only watching peripherally as he stalked to and fro. “So, we poison him - ah, that is, we give Arthur the potion, bring him in here, convince everyone he’s dead, I get arrested-“
“For heaven’s sake, Merlin! Why would you allow yourself to be arrested?”
He stopped in his pacing and looked over at Gaius, who was looking increasingly disgruntled. Merlin cleared his throat. “I… Look, perhaps I should explain. I have to be arrested because I’ve already been. Arrested. By Leon. But not yet. After Arthur dies.”
Silence echoed throughout the room. Merlin could have sworn he heard crickets. Wait, did Camelot even have crickets?
“We don’t have time for this. Give me the potion, and I’ll go explain to Arthur.”
Gaius blinked a few times before turning to his shelf of potions, examining a few, and then turning back to Merlin with a translucent green bottle. He pressed it into Merlin’s palm, curving his fingers around Merlin’s own, before wordlessly turning and opening up a large tome on the table.
Merlin stood stock still for a few moments, looking down at the bottle in his hands. “And the antidote?”
“I’ll have it ready by the time you get back.”
Neither man looked at the other as Merlin pushed through the door and started making his way to Arthur’s chambers.
Arthur lifted an eyebrow when he saw Merlin slip into his chambers. “Strange. I seem to remember telling you to muck out the stables. Did you get lost on your way there?”
Merlin didn’t bother to reply; he simply clapped a hand over Arthur’s mouth and moved to whisper in his ear. “Arthur. This is important. I believe someone means to make an attempt on your life this morning.”
Arthur froze, and as he cupped his chin gently, Arthur’s lips pressing into his palm, Merlin couldn’t help but remember how that mouth had felt against his skin. He let go as though burned, and Arthur turned to stare at him.
“Merlin,” he hissed, “you had better have a damn good explanation for this.”
“Someone means to poison you,” Merlin said, his voice pitched low, “but not if we do it first.”
Arthur grimaced, turning his head away from Merlin for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Merlin blinked.
Arthur shoved him in the shoulder, glaring. “Well? Tell me what I need to do. Quickly.”
“Put this potion in your goblet, and drink the entire thing. It’s the same one we used when we needed to make your father cry.”
“Yet another example of your cunning plans.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Merlin said, affronted, and Arthur smirked. “Wait to drink this until I come back, though.” He slipped the potion into Arthur’s hand, and he flicked his eyes down to watch as Arthur tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Oh, and I may act a bit strangely. Just play along.”
Arthur nodded, once, then turned away. Merlin was halfway out the door when he heard Arthur’s voice, just barely above a whisper. “I trust you.”
Merlin turned towards Arthur. His back was to him, stiff and ramrod straight, muscles tense beneath the thin fabric of his tunic. The early morning sunlight streamed through his hair, tinging the edges gold.
“I know.”
Merlin closed the door quietly and slipped behind the tapestry at the end of the corridor.
It took surprisingly little time before he heard muffled voices inside Arthur’s chamber, and the slow thud of footsteps as a knight passed nearby.
“Gaius! Someone!” his own voice called.
“Merlin?” cried Leon’s voice. Merlin peeked out from behind the curtain just in time to see Leon throwing open the doors to Arthur’s chamber and rushing inside. After a few moments of talking, other-Merlin emerged, looking pale and frightened. His eyes darted back and forth and he started scuttling towards the tapestry where Merlin was hiding. He ducked back behind as his past self rushed closer, panting heavily. “I need more time,” he started muttering, and then half familiar words. It took Merlin a moment to realise he was reciting the spell.
Merlin whipped the parchment out of his tunic and started reading the words along with other-Merlin the second time. It was working. He could feel magic stretching between the two of them, tingling in his extremities. He chanced a peek outside the curtain, and other-Merlin muttered the last words of the spell with him, his eyes closed, a look of intense concentration on his face.
Merlin opened his eyes to see sun streaming through tree branches. He could feel moisture seeping into his tunic and breeches from the wet grass beneath him.
Stupid spell, Merlin thought. Other-Merlin must have succeeded in casting it at the same time as Merlin; both had been transported somewhere.
Merlin pushed himself to a sitting position as his vertigo faded.
He was sitting at the shore of a great lake, with a hill rising in a small island in the middle. He’d been here before.
There was a lone figure standing knee-deep in the water, staring out towards the horizon. A boat floated in the water a short distance away, growing smaller as it moved towards the island.
“Who was it?” he asked, and the figure turned towards him.
Merlin watched his other self stiffen, saying nothing as they stared at each other. Finally, his shoulders drooped, and he started slogging his way back towards shore.
“Freya?” Merlin asked, but he knew it was wrong, even as he said it; this man looked older than himself, if only by a few years. If his age was not apparent in the broad strength of his shoulders, then it was made obvious by the shadows in his expression.
“No,” future-Merlin said. His eyes pored over Merlin’s face, as if looking for something lost. “Suppose you want me to send you back?”
Merlin nodded. “Did you… need me to send you somewhere?”
Future-Merlin swallowed visibly, his adam’s apple bobbing slowly, and his eyes widened. “I…”
Merlin waited.
“Why do you think he sent you here?”
The question threw Merlin off-balance. He hadn’t really thought about how the spell worked, really. Kay had used it to send him back to before Arthur’s death, so he’d have a chance to do something about it. Merlin had sent his other self to the future, to find Kay and the future incarnations of Gwaine and Arthur. Because that’s how it had happened to him. He imagined he’d send back his jailed self to witness Arthur’s death. He’d need to go back to do that, though. So where had his other self sent him?
“What is here, anyway? It must be important.”
Future-Merlin smiled and turned away.
“I guess,” Merlin said, “he sent me here because he was thinking-“
“Because you were thinking,” future-Merlin corrected.
Merlin cleared his throat. “I was thinking that I couldn’t lose him.”
Future-Merlin spread his hands in a placating gesture. “And here you are.”
“Is Arthur…”
“Here?” Future-Merlin dropped his hands. “No. Not anymore.”
“Is future-me always this cryptic?” Merlin asked, and a short, shocked laugh burst out of future-Merlin’s throat.
“I guess I just don’t really feel like explaining. Sorry.” He didn’t look particularly sorry.
“Well, can you send me back, then?” Merlin scuffed the toe of his boot on the patch of dirt where he was standing.
Future-Merlin shook his head. “I don’t remember the spell.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t keep it on your person at all times in case of emergency time travel?”
His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I just don’t want to be alone right now.”
“Oh.” They stood there for a moment in silence, staring at each other. Future-Merlin looked exhausted. “Do you want to start a fire, maybe?”
Future-Merlin’s shoulders drooped in relief. “I’ll get you back before dawn.”
“All right.”
Merlin came to in Arthur’s chambers. His back was a bit stiff from staying up all night talking, but his future self had shown him some neat tricks with making animal shapes from the flames. They hadn’t spoken much, simply sat together on a fallen log, thighs pressed together, staring into the fire.
He pried his eyes open and looked around, but the room was empty. There was no sign of Arthur. The spoon of porridge still lay on the floor where Merlin had flung it, and the goblet had gone missing.
He peered out the cracked door into the corridor, but it appeared to be empty. He took a shortcut to Gaius’ room and managed to get there without being spotted by Leon.
“It’s done,” Merlin said, a bit breathless, as he threw open the doors of Gaius’ chambers. The bed was still empty. “Has Leon been here yet?”
“Hmmm? No, I’ve not seen him.” Gaius smiled weakly at Merlin over his bubbling potion cauldron. “I’m almost finished with the antidote.”
“Good. Can you hide me in here until I get arrested?”
Gaius raised an eyebrow menacingly. His disapproving glare could beat out Arthur’s any day. “Perhaps you could explain that. Why, exactly, are you going to be arrested?”
“For Arthur’s murder. Uh. There’s something you should know-“ But then Merlin heard footsteps outside the door. “Bollocks. Hide me. Now.”
Merlin ducked into an empty storage barrel and Gaius carefully tucked the stiff cloth over his head. He had no time to pour in rice to complete the disguise. Merlin squirmed uncomfortably, flexing his muscles occasionally so they wouldn’t cramp. Even without the weight of the rice, the cloth over his head was suffocating.
The sound of the doors being thrown open stopped Merlin mid-thought. He could hear most everything, but not being able to see was maddening.
“Gaius.” Leon was speaking, his voice strained. “Merlin said to…” There was a pause, and some shuffling. They must have been laying Arthur on the spare bed. “He’s been poisoned.”
Gaius spoke, his voice sharp and businesslike. “Do we know with what?”
“Merlin thought,” Leon said, cutting himself off mid-sentence. “I brought the goblet.” There was a soft thud of metal on wood.
“I’ll have to perform tests. If it’s recoverable, I’ll know.” A pause, and a short cough, before Gaius spoke again. “Inform the king.”
“N-now? Before we know for sure?”
Gaius’ voice was softer now. “He deserves to know.” The door creaked on its hinges, and Gaius said, “Thank you. For bringing him here straight away.”
“Of course.”
“If there were anything to be done…”
The room was silent for so long, Merlin was sure Leon had left, but then his voice rang out, sudden and abrupt. “There isn’t, is there?”
“I can’t say for sure.”
Merlin held his breath until he heard the soft snick of the door pressing into its frame. There was no click of a deadbolt, and Merlin smiled at the thought of Gwaine’s flat in London. At least the doors in Camelot would never lock him out of his own chambers.
“Merlin,” Gaius hissed, his voice near enough to the slats of the barrel that the consonants were only slightly muffled. “When did you give Arthur the poison?”
“Um, just before Leon found him? He should have taken him here straight away. I don’t know if he stopped somewhere first…”
The warning bells started chiming before Gaius could properly gape.
“We don’t have the luxury of time to-“ The door squeaked, cutting Gaius off mid-sentence. The faint murmur of the guards outside filtered in, their voices indistinct. Merlin tried not to give himself away by breathing too loudly.
“Where is he?” Oh, shite. Uther.
“Your Majesty. Prince Arthur is-“
A gasp, and the rustle of clothing. “Was it sorcery?”
“We have determined it was most likely a poison, sire.”
“Whoever did this…” Uther’s voice sounded strangled. Merlin remembered his face when he’d seen Arthur die the first time, pale and drawn. He trailed off and Gaius’ footsteps retreated. Other than the occasional rustle, Uther was silent in his grief.
The silence was broken by footsteps, and a soft thud as the door swung open against the back wall. “Is it true?” And, oh. Gwen.
Merlin had forgotten that Gwen had been here. He’d been so overwhelmed by his own grief that he’d completely missed everyone else’s.
“I must depart,” Uther said, sounding extremely uncomfortable.
“Of course, sire.”
Gwen was quiet until the door clicked shut. “Is he…?”
“I’m so sorry,” Gaius said.
“No.” Gwen’s voice cracked on that single syllable. And then, Merlin heard a shuddering breath, another, and then…
Don’t cry, he wanted to say. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.
But he couldn’t say anything.
“I’m here,” Gaius said, over and over, and Merlin squirmed in his barrel, made uncomfortable by more than just the cramped space.
What could have been mere moments later, but felt like an eternity, the door blasted open one more time, and this time, Merlin knew what was coming.
“Gaius?” his own voice called.
“Merlin.” Now that he was listening for it, Merlin could tell there was shock in Gaius’ tone. Come to think of it, he’d never gotten to the multiple Merlins part of his explanation. Or any part of his explanation, really. Damn.
“He’s gone, Merlin.” Gwen’s voice was soft, the strain in it still audible.
“What?” Was his voice really that high-pitched? He’d always fancied himself as more manly-sounding than that. Circumstances being what they were, however…
Why, oh why, had he chosen to hide in the barrel? He could be in the stables. He could be in Arthur’s chambers. Anywhere but here, reliving this awful scene. Even knowing that it was all a ruse didn’t make it any better.
“Ar- Arthur. He’s…”
“I don’t…”
“Prince Arthur is dead.”
Nausea churned inside Merlin’s stomach, just as it had the first time he’d heard those words.
“No. It’s not- I was just speaking with him this morning. He told me to polish his armour. He was fine then. He was fine. He’s not-“
“Merlin,” Gaius said.
Gwen’s voice was shaky. “Merlin, I’m sorry, I know what he meant to you…”
Gaius shushed her. “He meant something to all of us, dear. Perhaps… it would be best to leave the two of them.”
“Of… of course.” Fabric rustled, and footsteps shuffled unevenly. The door clicked again, and now there was just the sound of uneven breathing.
Oh, god, other-Merlin was crying.
Merlin was stuck in a room with his past self, who was sobbing over his best friend’s death, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t block out the sound, couldn’t scratch the infuriating itch that had sprung up on his elbow, couldn’t say anything, couldn’t make it stop, and if he had to sit here listening to himself he was going to go mad-
“Merlin,” Gaius’ voice cut through the tension, through Merlin’s thoughts, through other-Merlin’s hysterical sobs. “Merlin. Merlin, look at me.”
Silence.
“Merlin, you have to leave.”
“I… what?”
Merlin never wanted to hear his own voice again. How did Kay manage it without going mad? Merlin forced himself to ignore the rest of the conversation, all of his muscles tensed. What came next? As soon as Merlin was gone, they could revive Arthur. They didn’t have much time before the antidote would lose effect, and Arthur really would be dead. And all of this would be for nothing.
Merlin blinked into the too-bright daylight as Gaius ripped the cloth covering away from his head. “What in the devil’s name was that?” Gaius’ voice was spiked with panic.
“I’m sorry! I just… I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Is the antidote ready?”
Gaius hurried over to the bench and grabbed the glass vial in trembling fingers. “You’d better give it to him,” he said. “My hand is not terrible steady right now.”
“Right,” Merlin said, and tipped the contents in Arthur’s mouth without a blink.
“Come on, come on,” he murmured, pressing his fingers to the side of Arthur’s throat to coax the antidote down. There was still a drop of antidote clinging to the corner of Arthur’s mouth. He pushed the drop in between Arthur’s lips with his index finger without thinking, before drawing his hand back as though burned.
Arthur just… laid there.
“Come on!” Merlin shouted. “It can’t have been too long, it can’t, wake up!”
Just before Merlin was about to smack him, Arthur coughed.
“Oh thank fuck,” Merlin muttered. Gaius threw him a strange look.
Arthur glared up at Merlin. “Did it work?”
“Which part?” Merlin asked, looking down at Arthur with a frown. “Did you notice you’re not dead?”
“You idiot… you said you were doing this because of an assassination attempt!”
“Well, like I said, you’re not dead, are you?”
Arthur grinned, and Merlin’s heart stuttered in his chest.
Gaius cleared his throat. “I think we would all appreciate an explanation, Merlin.”
“Right. Explanation. This might take a while.” He side-eyed Arthur. Well. He’d done it in the future, hadn’t he? So, maybe he could do it here, too.
“So, the short version is, Arthur died and so I travelled through time to try to find a cure, failed, and decided to poison him myself so we could figure out why he died in the first place.”
“Travelled through time?” Arthur said, mouth dropping open.
“Um. Yes. Sorry. I’m magic?” He wiggled his fingers and rotated his wrists in what Gwaine had affectionately called jazz hands. New Gwaine, that is. He’d have to start distinguishing between them.
“I… what?” Arthur said, his mouth gaping open, before Gaius walloped him upside the head with a book on medicinal herbs. A very thorough book. With many pages.
“What was that for?” Merlin asked, gaping.
“You intend to reveal your magic to Arthur? Now?” Gaius shook the encyclopaedia at him. “You idiot!”
“So you knocked him unconscious?”
“Better than having him inform his father, who is currently out for your blood, that you are a sorcerer!”
“Okay, maybe not my best thought out plan.”
Gaius sighed. “And what was this about you getting arrested?”
“Oh, right! Yes. They should be taking me to the dungeons about now. Oh, they might come here, actually. So you can confirm the cause of Arthur’s death.”
A knock sounded on Gaius’ door.
“Bollocks!” Merlin yelped. He’d really need to unlearn all this new vocabulary at some point. Curse New Gwaine and his filthy mouth. “Hide me!”
“Hide yourself!” Gaius hissed between clenched teeth, as he started walking towards the door.
Merlin dove for the door to his own chambers and slipped inside, heart pounding.
After a few moments, the soft sounds of voices stopped, and Merlin chanced a peek outside. Gaius’ room was empty, with Arthur lying limply on the bed, breaths shallow, and an untended potion simmering over a small fire. He moved fully into the room and went to stand by Arthur’s bedside.
Arthur stirred, groaning. “My head.”
“Arthur!” Merlin rushed over to him, his hands gently cradling the lump that had formed from Medicinal Herbs and their Components.
Arthur blinked up at Merlin. “I had the oddest dream…”
“Side effect of the poison,” Merlin lied. “How are you feeling?”
“I… terrible, actually.”
Merlin knelt next to the bed and gathered Arthur up in his arms. Maybe Arthur would have him thrown in the stocks for it; Merlin didn’t really care. “I’m glad.”
“You’re glad I feel terrible?” Arthur asked, chuckling, as his hands looped gently around Merlin’s back and squeezed back.
“It’s revenge for all the times you’ve made me feel terrible.”
Arthur pulled back. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He was smiling. “So, what’s the plan?”
Merlin swallowed. “Well, I’ll probably be arrested for your murder. So, prevent my execution, catch the real killer, if there is one-“
“If?” Arthur glared.
“You know how these rumours are, I mean…”
“Merlin, why do I constantly put my life in your hands?” He rolled his eyes.
“Just suicidal, I guess?”
Arthur punched him in the shoulder, then winced. “Oh, gods, my head. It didn’t hurt like this the last time we pulled this trick.”
Merlin flinched guiltily. “Maybe we brewed the antidote wrong.”
Arthur’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? Was that a possibility? So I might not have woken up at all?”
“No!” Merlin blurted. “No, of course not!”
“You fill me with such confidence, Merlin,” Arthur proclaimed dryly, swinging his legs off the side of the bed as he did so. “It’s no wonder I keep you on as my servant.” He started ticking off traits on his hands. “Your stellar service, your natural grace, your punctuality… you never complain about the chores I assign…”
“Oh, shut up,” Merlin said, but he was grinning.
The door opened, and Merlin ducked under the bed, but it was only Gaius. Arthur looked down at him with baffled amusement, but Gaius only sighed noisily. “I have just spoken with the king. He believes you are dead.”
Arthur sighed. “Well, I’m not. Can you get him down here so we can explain?”
Gaius’ eyes flickered to Merlin’s momentarily. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
“He wants to arrest me, yeah?” Merlin stood up and brushed off his knees. “Well, perhaps I should go down to the dungeons, then.”
“What?” Arthur asked. “No! What’s wrong with you?”
“You ask me that question every day, Arthur, I’d think you’d know by now-“
“Shut up, Merlin, I’m not letting you go to the dungeons.”
Merlin turned towards Arthur, letting one hand settle on top of his shoulder. Arthur looked up at him from where he sat. “Would you let them execute me for a crime I did not commit?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then I have nothing to worry about.”
“Merlin,” Arthur growled.
And it was that one word, more than anything, that let Merlin know he was home.
“Arthur.”
Arthur stood, brushing Merlin’s hand away. “Fine, have it your way. It’ll be your own fault if my father chops your head off in a fit of rage before I get the chance to talk him out of it.”
“Of course, sire,” Merlin said, not bothering to hide his grin.
Gaius rolled his eyes. “Come, Merlin. Don’t dawdle.”
“Why am I lying about this?” Gaius asked, not for the first time.
“Because he’s… I’m… too grief-stricken to understand anything else.”
“This story is preposterous.”
“It’s emotional! It’ll appeal to his… my… uhhh. What was I saying?”
“Merlin!” Gaius hissed. “I’m never going to remember this.”
“Look, let’s just do a trial run. It’ll be easy.”
“Fine. Merlin. I have a spell for you.”
“That was a terrible start, but fine. Oh, Gaius! I’m so sad! I deserve to die! I can’t live if I’m without Arthur!”
Gaius stood there for a moment, lifting his eyebrows. Merlin couldn’t see them very well in the semi-darkness, but the flickering torches lining the dungeon walls cast long shadows over Gaius’ face, making them appear even bushier than normal.
“Come on, it’s your line.”
“You’re ridiculous. Merlin! Take this spell.”
“No spells can help me when Arthur’s already dead.”
“This one can. It’s… it belonged to Balinor.”
“My father?”
“Yes, I got it from him when… Merlin, how would he have even given this to me? I haven’t seen him since he left for Ealdor!”
“The details are irrelevant, Gaius. Stick to the story.”
Gaius sighed. “Balinor used this to save your mother’s life. It stands to reason that you can use it to save Arthur in the same way.”
“How?”
“How what?” Gaius grimaced at Merlin. There was a soft rustle from the guard’s room, and they both froze. “How long are they going to stay asleep, did you say?”
“Practically until dawn. It’s fine. I tested this spell on Gwaine, once.”
Gaius sighed. “Merlin, you-“
“Yes, yes, be more careful. How did Balinor save my mother?”
Gaius frowned. “He… travelled in time?”
“No, you can’t say that, I won’t understand what that means.”
“Are you finally admitting to being thick-headed?”
“No! I’m grief-stricken! Give me a break! Other me, that is.”
“Then what am I supposed to say?”
Merlin scrubbed his palm across his face. If only he could remember that conversation with Gaius. It was all a blur at this point. “Just say he used it to bring my mum back to life. You don’t know the details.”
“Fine,” Gaius said. “We don’t have much time before someone comes down to check on you.”
“I know,” Merlin said. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”
“What?” Gaius asked, his nose scrunched up in bafflement.
“Um, never mind.”
There was some desperate mumbling, and Gaius wandered back a few minutes later, looking noticeably relieved. “It appears that he believed my story.”
“Good. Now we just have to wait for him to cast the spell.”
Gaius glanced nervously towards the guardroom. “Perhaps I should return to my quarters?”
Merlin nodded absently. The noises coming from other-Merlin’s cell had stopped. Maybe he had already fallen asleep?
As Gaius hiked back to his quarters, Merlin snuck into the cell block where other-Merlin was staying. He found him lying on the floor, unconscious, spell gripped in his fist and tears streaking his cheeks.
“Oh,” Merlin whispered. He unlocked the cell with a whispered onlúcan, slipped inside, and sat down next to other-Merlin, cradling his head in his lap.
“Don’t worry,” Merlin said, running his fingers through his hair. “This will all be better in the morning. You’ll see.” He pried Merlin’s fingers loose from the spell and smoothed it out on the stone so that he could read the words.
With a deep breath, he started reciting the spell that would send himself to witness Arthur’s death. Perhaps it was what started this whole mess. Or maybe it had always been meant to go this way, in an endless loop. It didn’t really matter either way.
When Merlin woke up the next morning, he was alone in the cell, and Arthur was looming over him.
“I think Gwen’s angry with me,” he commented blandly, as Merlin blinked his eyes in the early morning light.
“Oh?”
“She cried and hit me when she found out I was alive.”
“Oh,” Merlin said, stretching. “That’s all right then. I thought she would do worse. You certainly deserved it.”
Arthur grinned. “I don’t have to let you out, you know.”
Merlin pushed out his lower lip and batted his eyelashes. “But then who would muck your stables?”
Arthur laughed, the sunlight streaming behind him and framing his face and torso. Merlin drank in his fill.
“Idiot,” Arthur said, when he’d stopped laughing.
“Prat,” Merlin replied.
“There are worse things to be.”
Yeah, thought Merlin. “So you going to let me out, prat?”
“Maybe.”
When he got back to his chambers, he unfolded the magic spell that he’d slipped into his pocket, smoothed out the creases, and sandwiched it between the pages of his spell book. He had a long way to go before he’d get the chance to return it.
Three weeks later, Merlin was sitting in the armoury scrubbing at Arthur’s breastplate and replaying his kiss with New Arthur. Would he forgive him for leaving without saying goodbye? Technically, Merlin wouldn’t disappear; he’d just become Kay. Would his feelings have changed by then?
He wasn’t really paying attention when the door opened and shut, or even when a shadow fell across the platemail he was polishing, but he definitely noticed when someone cuffed him upside the head and flopped to the floor beside him.
“If I didn’t know you better,” said Gwaine, “I’d say you were avoiding me.”
“Am not,” said Merlin.
“That would be more convincing if you weren’t bright red right now,” Gwaine pointed out.
“Look, it’s just…”
Well. Maybe Merlin couldn’t tell Arthur about his magic. But he could tell someone.
Gwaine raised an eyebrow and waited, his smirk growing wider the longer Merlin sat there fidgeting.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Gwaine nodded solemnly. “I give my word, on the grave of my father, and the ample bosom of my mother, that I shall never breathe a word of what you say.”
Merlin snorted. “Right. I may have been avoiding you, but it’s only because you have a rubbish sense of humour.”
“My jokes are hilarious; it’s the rest of the world that has a poor sense of humour.”
Merlin sucked in a deep breath, bracing himself, got to his feet, and walked over to the armoury door. Gwaine followed his movements with his eyes but said nothing.
Once Merlin had locked the door, he cast a silencing spell so no one could eavesdrop.
Gwaine grinned wide as Merlin’s eyes flashed gold. “About time.”
A wave of relief washed through Merlin and he grinned back. “Now. Have you ever heard of time travel?”
Gwaine shook his head and grabbed a pile of furs from a nearby shelf, settling back and stretching out his legs.
Merlin smiled and returned to the platemail, picking his cloth back up and turning to face Gwaine. “I was the one to poison Arthur.”
Gwaine frowned. “He said he’d worked alone. And you were so shocked when he died. You couldn’t have been in on it.”
Merlin nodded. “I wasn’t, at the time.”
Fifteen minutes later, Merlin hadn’t even gotten to the description of Kay yet, and Percy started banging on the door because he needed to get his practice sword.
Over the next few days, Gwaine and Merlin took to wandering the castle grounds after supper.
“So, in conclusion, you really need to tumble Percy already,” Merlin said, his mouth full of stolen sausages from the kitchens.
Gwaine rolled his eyes. “That was terrible, Merlin. I can’t believe I waited a fortnight to get to the moral of the story.“
Merlin interrupted with an affronted, “Only twelve days!” Gwaine ignored him.
“I figured you’d be spouting off some nonsense about the power of love,” and at this Gwaine waved his hands and pulled a face, showing exactly what he thought of Love with a Capital L, “not telling me that I need to get laid.”
“I’m serious! If New Gwaine did it, why not you?”
“What makes you think I haven’t already?”
Merlin swallowed. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Gwaine said, smirking, and Merlin stuffed the rest of his sausage in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to respond.
“So when are you going to tumble Arthur?” Gwaine asked, his tone mild.
Merlin chewed thoughtfully, swallowing after a long pause. “It may be a while. But don’t worry. It’ll happen eventually.”
“In the meantime, do you want to give me a go?” Gwaine asked, leering.
“Not in a million years.”
Merlin supposed he deserved the shove.
Arthur’s boat shimmered in the distance, growing hazy as it slid towards Avalon. Merlin felt numb.
It was dark now, Arthur long gone, and still Merlin stood, shivering slightly as the cold dark surrounded him. Every part of him ached. His ankles. His elbows. His earlobes. His nostrils, even.
Merlin wasn’t sure how long he stood there, letting the dark grow steadily thicker, folding him into itself, the stars shining in a swath of sky, reflected in the gentle ripples of the lake below. As the night descended, Merlin let himself be wrapped up in the soft sounds of owls hooting and the rustling of leaves, the cold bite of the wind against his cheeks, the occasional spray of water from the surface of the lake, the smell of earth and water and leaves on the ground. Still, he kept returning to the memory of Arthur’s blood, a tangy copper that filled Merlin’s nose and permeated his head and chest until he could not breathe through the thick cloying taste as Arthur filled his lungs and his brain and his mouth.
Merlin closed his eyes and cleared his mind of Arthur’s last moments.
Instead, he thought of cottage pie, data entry, and cooking classes; of watered-down ale, pumpkin muffins, and charred hot dogs; of blue eyes, golden hair, and laugh lines.
“Who was it?” called out a familiar voice, and Merlin turned around slowly.
It was still strange to see himself. He didn’t think he’d ever really get used to it.
“Freya?”
“No,” Merlin said. “Suppose you want me to send you back?”
“Did you… need me to send you somewhere?”
For a moment, he was tempted; his past self could send him to the past, to see Arthur again. He could try to change things, prevent his death. But it wouldn’t really change anything, would it? Arthur would always die, in the end.
He could go to the future instead, if he wanted. He could visit Kay and claim his happy-ever-after working in Gwaine’s cafe. But no matter how many times he tried to run away from destiny, it always caught up with him, in the end. Besides, if something went wrong - if one or both of them somehow bungled the spell - then they would both be stranded in time. Best not to risk it.
“Why do you think he sent you here?” he asked, instead.
In the morning, Merlin woke alone. The sun rose over the lake, rays rippling pink and gold over its surface. He stood, stretched, and started the long journey into the future.
At least he had something to look forward to.
Epilogue