Merlin - Where This Road May Go 6/9 (Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Morgana - pg13)
Title: Where This Road May Go 6/9
Author: batgurl88
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, Gaius, Uther, Nimueh
Wordcount: 6,156 (52,352 overall)
Summary: Arthur is a royal who can't remember his past. Merlin and Gaius are con-men, hoping to return Arthur to Uther for a hefty reward, but little do they know they have the real deal on their hands.
A/N: Some lines and plot aspects respectfully borrowed from both Twentieth Century Fox’s Anastasia and BBC’s Merlin. Extra special thanks to justicemischief for beta'ing and for all of her help with the action scenes in this chapter.
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Where This Road May Go
Part Six
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Merlin leaned back in his seat, holding up an old photograph of a gaunt man with a moustache.
"All right, who's this?"
"Count Gawain Demidov," Arty answered with ease. "He bred dogs, and he hated children. Owain and I used to hide during his visits."
"Right. And this?" he asked, pointing to a portrait of a young girl.
"Sophia Tarasova, only daughter of Count Aulfric Tarasov, Councillor of State. Widower. He used to travel with a large walking stick."
Merlin nodded, turning to a new page in the photo album. After more than a month of walking and hitching short rides, they'd finally managed to get spots aboard a bus that would take them all the way to Stralsund, where they would be catching their boat to Paris. Gwen and Gaius had settled into their seats across the aisle, the pair taking another much-needed break from royalty lessons, insisting that he and Arty do the same. Surprisingly, though, Arty had shown little interest in stopping, eagerly skimming through one of the photo albums until Merlin finally decided to quiz him on it.
His eyes fell to an older picture of the Petrovins, bribed off a baroness who'd been down on her luck.
"Okay, here's the tsar, and the tsaritsa, and their family," Merlin pointed, indicating the different people in the photograph, more out of habit than actual need. Arty had been studying them intently for over a month, and probably could have drawn their faces in his sleep. "And that's their boat-"
"'The Standardt,'" Arty finished distractedly, his eyes following Merlin's finger around the page.
Merlin frowned, trying to remember when they’d taught him the name of the boat. "How did you know that?"
Arty blinked. "It's... written on the side of the lifeboat," he pointed hesitantly.
"Oh," said Merlin, feeling foolish. "Right. Well, the tsar loved boating. In the spring, the royal family spent their time at Tsarskoye Selo. And in summer, they lived at Peterhof Palace."
"Tsarskoye Selo and Peterhof," repeated Arty. "Got it."
Merlin studied him, impressed with the dedication that had only increased as they neared Paris. He'd had his doubts initially, but Arty had turned out to be a fairly good student, absorbing whatever he and Gaius taught him.
"Do you think the comtesse will agree to see me?" Arty wondered, his voice far too casual as he turned to the next page of photographs.
He nodded. "Gaius is an old acquaintance of hers. She'll agree to see him, which means she'll see you."
Arty's head shot up, intrigued. "Gaius? Really?"
"He was a member of the Imperial Court," Merlin confided. He and Gaius had shared little with Arty and Gwen of their respective pasts, but Merlin didn't think his partner would mind.
"Well, that makes sense," Arty shrugged, taking it in stride. "Doesn't really explain you, though."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Arty drawled, "That he has an excuse for the vast reserve of royal knowledge he has at his disposal, whereas your decidedly creepy firsthand knowledge has no real explanation. Tell me, Merlin," he said seriously, looking him in the eye. "Are you secretly harbouring obsessive tendencies for members of the royal family?"
Merlin rolled his eyes, looking out the window.
"It's all right, you know," Arty continued, still in the same overly-serious tone of voice Merlin had come to associate with his teasing. "You can tell me all about your little crush. Did you draw hearts around Grand Duchess Helen's name? It seems like the sort of girly thing you would do."
He felt his cheeks heat, the taunting hitting a little too close to home. Not that he'd ever drawn hearts around the grand duke's name or anything like that.
"You're slouching again," he commented lamely in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
Arty smirked, knowing he'd won, though he straightened his shoulders all the same. There was a bit of tightness around his eyes that confused Merlin.
"Have you ever been to France before?" said Arty after a moment of silence.
"No," answered Merlin, leaning back in his seat again. "I've never left Russia, actually."
"Do you plan on staying there?" he asked, staring hard at the photo album, an odd inflection in his voice. "Once we meet the prince, I mean."
Merlin frowned - hadn’t they already gone over this? He supposed he’d never given a straight answer on the train, irritated as he’d been by Arty’s pestering, but now he gave the question serious thought.
Truthfully, he still hadn't worked out what he'd like to do next. If everything went according to plan, he'd have more than enough money to do whatever he liked. He'd always assumed that would mean buying himself a nice place somewhere in Russia, but now that they had gone so far, he rather liked his earlier idea of travelling a bit more. Maybe he could tour France for a while - after finding Gaius a nice place to retire to, of course.
Arty was still looking at him expectantly, but Merlin was saved the task of having to answer, catching sight of the approaching harbour outside the window. "We're here."
* * *
The cargo ship Merlin had bartered them passage on was called the USS Odenwald. They were the only civilian passengers leaving with the crew from Stralsund, and had been given a small two-bunk room on the lower deck. Gaius had begged off to the upper deck almost immediately after they cast off, sickened by the movement of the ship, while Gwen had avoided the lower deck entirely, disappearing to explore their new environment, her drawing materials in tow.
Arty neatly smoothed out his bedroll on top of the thin bed sheets of the bunk. It was still too early in the day to retire, but it didn't hurt to stake a claim.
They'd been at sea for a couple of hours, and Arty was already acclimatizing to the steady lean and tilt of the boat, adjusting his footing accordingly as he made his way about their small compartment. He didn't hear the door creak open behind him, but he caught sight of dark brown hair out of the corner of his eye.
"Settling in, I see," Merlin commented dryly from the doorway, raising an eyebrow, his hands behind his back.
"I've already claimed the bottom bunk, and Gaius will need the other one, so you'll have the floor, I think," Arty informed him brightly. "Gwen's decided to sleep in the corridor if she can - I don't think she likes being below deck much."
Merlin nodded, seeming a bit distracted.
"I got you something," he said, holding out a paper-wrapped package.
Arty paused, standing up straight.
"What is it?" he questioned, eyeing the package with distrust.
Merlin rolled his eyes, shoving it at his chest. "It's a court uniform. Tsar Nicholas the first required all men to wear them to the imperial balls. I thought you might like it- I mean- you might want to wear it when we meet Morgana."
"Why?" Arty asked, glancing curiously at Merlin.
The other man looked as if the conversation were quickly taking an undesired turn.
"Because...er, that is..." he answered uncomfortably. Arty raised his eyebrows. "Well, you can't wear those rags to meet Morgana. Put it on, will you?"
Quirking his lips, Arty tore at the packaging, revealing a red tunic with gold threading. It wasn't new, by any means, but it must have cost Merlin a pretty penny all the same.
"Careful, Merlin," he cautioned, smirking. "If you keep buying me presents, people will start to think you're a nice person."
Merlin scoffed, his cheeks reddening. "Just put it on, already."
He turned quickly and left, shaking his head, the door falling closed behind him.
Arty stared after him thoughtfully, a puzzled frown marring his brow as he glanced back down at the gift in his hands. There were times when he almost thought he understood Merlin. But other times...
* * *
"How long until we reach Paris?" Gwen wondered.
"About three days," Merlin replied, leaning against the railing as he gazed out at the water. Gwen and Gaius had found makeshift seating on-deck, pushing some wooden boxes together near the rail. Gwen sat drawing, as usual, her fingers coated in charcoal and a smudge of gray across her forehead where she'd pushed her unruly hair out of her face. Gaius had been silent, for the most part, the motion of the ship making him yearn for fresh air and steady ground. "We'll be docking in the port of Le Havre. We'll catch another train from there."
"I only hope Arty is ready," Gaius remarked idly. "It won't be easy convincing Morgana he's the grand duke. She's as sharp as her father was, and twice as hard to win over."
"He's ready," Merlin said with certainty.
"Oh," Gwen interrupted with a gasp, standing to stare at something behind him.
"Now, that's more like it," commented Gaius approvingly, following her gaze with a soft smile.
Merlin turned his head, his jaw dropping.
Arty stood near the stairs to the lower decks, his hands clasped behind his back. The red tunic and breeches looked stunning on him, giving him a commanding presence, and the gold trimming made something in his eyes glitter with power and charm. The setting sun behind him presented him with an almost ethereal glow. He stood straighter, somehow, his confident smile tinged with a hint of uncertainty that only added to his appeal. Merlin stared - for the first time, he could truly see the shimmering of royalty beneath the orphan’s rough exterior.
"Well?" Arty prompted when no one spoke.
Merlin shook himself from his reverie and cleared his throat.
"You- you look nice," he replied, inwardly wincing at himself. Nice? Really? That was the best he could come up with?
Arty rolled his eyes, appearing to have expected nothing less. He ventured closer, giving a small spin for Gwen. The artist rushed forward to admire the fine threads up close.
"You look like a grand duke, indeed, Arty," Gaius complimented with a pleased smile. "And now that you are dressed for a ball, we can work on your dancing. Merlin?"
Both men seemed to be caught off-guard by this request, turning together to frown at the white-haired forger.
"Me?" Merlin demanded.
Gaius tutted. "He needs to learn how, and you're a fair enough dancer. Besides, far I'm too old for such things," he added lightly.
Merlin scowled - Gaius always pulled the age card at the most inconvenient of times.
"Better you than me," Gwen whispered to him as she moved to take her seat again. "I swear I have two left feet."
The two men exchanged an awkward glance, quickly looking away again. Deciding it was up to him to take the first step, Merlin cleared his throat. He moved forward, taking Arty's hand in his and laying his other hand on a trim waist, trying to ignore the odd feeling that coursed through him at the contact.
They stood like that for a moment, neither quite sure what to do next, Merlin trying not to notice Gwen's gleeful grin as she watched them from the sidelines.
"... Shouldn't we be moving?" Arty asked, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin shook himself from his frozen stupor.
"Right. Yes. Well, it's pretty simple," he said, looking down at their feet. "It's a fast beat, but it's just the same four steps around in a circle for the first part."
Gaius cleared his throat, interrupting.
"Don't you think Arty ought to lead, Merlin?"
Steadfastly ignoring Arty's smug grin, he sighed before moving his left hand to Arty's shoulder, letting the other man's hand rest on his waist.
"Excellent," Gaius assessed, waving his hand to an imaginary beat in lieu of music. "Now, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three..."
It was a rocky start, with both men walking straight into each other, neither used to this particular orientation. The second attempt wasn't much better. Arty moved to his left just as Merlin went the opposite way, resulting in an awkward pulling of arms.
"Together, now!" Gaius called helpfully from the railing, sounding vaguely amused to Merlin's great annoyance.
He stumbled, trampling Arty's feet. Arty rolled his eyes.
"Aren't you supposed to be teaching me how to dance?" he asked, pulling him up straight.
Merlin scowled at him, stepping on his foot again, this time on purpose.
They turned in another clumsy circle, Arty shaking his head at the other man's actions. "Stop trying to lead, Merlin," he ordered.
"It's hard to follow someone who doesn't know what they're doing," he retorted pleasantly.
"I know what I'm doing," Arty snapped, affronted, and truthfully he did seem to. For someone who'd never taken a dance lesson in his life, he was good at keeping the beat, and had only stepped on Merlin's foot twice so far. His grip on Merlin's waist was light, but he knew how to press down a bit as they turned, guiding him.
"You know," Arty said after a moment of silence, a slow teasing grin working its way across his face, "I don't think this feels right, somehow. Shouldn't you be wearing a dress of some sort? How else am I to practice manoeuvring around my partner's skirts?"
Merlin's face reddened - already a far-too-familiar feeling on this voyage. "I'm not wearing a dress!" he protested.
But Arty seemed rather caught up in the idea. "A nice red one," he decided, giving it much thought. "With feathers, most likely."
The conman stared at him. "Only you would think red feathers were a good look for a person. And if you want a partner in a dress, you can ask Gwen to dance, but I don't think she'd have you."
Arty frowned at this suggestion. Somehow, over the course of their bickering, they'd evened out in their dancing, their brisk steps more resembling of a waltz than the clumsy fumbling they'd started out with. Neither one seemed to notice when Gaius stopped counting out the beat.
"So, where did someone like you learn to dance?" Arty inquired interestedly, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin blushed, remembering the evenings he'd spent watching the royal balls from the servant's entrance. There was no reason to tell Arty about that, of course. "We're not all country bumpkins, you know," he replied instead. "Some of us have picked up a thing or two along the way."
"I never said you were a country bumpkin," said Arty, a peculiar look on his face.
From their seats near the railing, Gaius and Gwen watched as the pair spun in-time to music only they could hear.
"They're doing quite well together, I think," said Gwen as she lightly sketched two dancing figures onto a thin piece of paper she'd procured from one of the sailors.
"Yes," Gaius agreed, raising a thoughtful eyebrow.
They had the deck completely to themselves, giving Merlin and Arty plenty of room. Their steps became increasingly in-sync as they spun, though Merlin outright refused to let Arty twirl him, arguing that it was something only the "really pompous" dancers did unless part of the original dance pattern.
Arty cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Look, I ... I forgot to thank you earlier," he said, his grip tightening on Merlin's waist, not meeting his eyes. "For the tunic."
"Oh, er, yeah, no problem," Merlin replied awkwardly. He coughed. "...Red's a good colour for you," he complimented, regretting the words the minute they were out of his mouth. He waited for the mocking glint to appear in his dance partner's eyes, but instead of offering to have him fitted for that dress or making an arrogant statement about his own attractiveness, Arty appeared almost pleased by the compliment.
Merlin felt his oversized ears turn red with unwarranted embarrassment, the twirling of their dance starting to make him dizzy. Feeling lightheaded, he slowed the waltz to a halt. "That's... probably enough for now," he said softly, his hand still in Arty's.
Arty nodded, his face slightly flushed from exertion. "Yeah," he replied.
They locked eyes, and he found himself leaning forward slightly.
"Arty, I-"
Arty swallowed. Was it Merlin's imagination, or had he leaned forward as well? "Yes?"
"I-" He tilted his head slightly, stepping closer-
A gust of wind swept up, sending Gwen's paper flying across the deck and her chasing after it with a startled cry.
Merlin stepped back, dropping his hands at the reminder of their audience. He cleared his throat. He couldn't believe he'd almost...
Embarrassed, he shook the thought from his head.
"You- you’re getting better," he said instead, giving a confused Arty an awkward pat on the shoulder. He headed for the lower deck, blaming the sea air for his brief moment of insanity, leaving his three companions behind.
* * *
The rest of the evening had passed without consequence, the four of them taking their meal in the mess before retiring to their room, bidding goodnight to Gwen, who'd resolved to find a "less cramped" place to sleep, taking her bedroll with her.
Cautiously, Arty toed at Merlin's bedroll on the floor, the other man giving a sleepy sigh as he turned on his side away from him. Merlin had been suspiciously quiet the rest of the night, turning in shortly after Gwen left, claiming to be too tired to stay up for the remainder of Arty's lesson on Grand Duke Owain's favourite books.
"He's alert most of the time, but when he gets the chance, he can sleep through just about anything." Gaius sounded like a disapproving parent, his eyes on Merlin's sleeping form.
Ashamed to have been caught, Arty retracted his foot, leaning back against the edge of his bunk. Instead he glared at the bedroll on the floor, inexplicably angry at Merlin for sleeping when he was too keyed up with excitement to do the same. They'd reach Paris in a matter of days, and then Arty would finally have a chance to put his teachings to the test, finding out once and for all if it had been in vain.
"How much longer do you think it'll be till we get there?" he asked, watching as the older man gulped down a concoction he'd bartered off one of the sailors to settle his stomach.
"I imagine about an hour less than the last time you asked me," Gaius answered dryly. He shot Arty a glance over his shoulder. "You know, it will seem much faster if you get some sleep," he added, raising a meaningful eyebrow.
Arty stood reluctantly, accidentally knocking over Merlin's bag as he did. A bundle of fabric fell out with a soft clink, a hint of silver glimmering from beneath the folds. Curious, he knelt, unwrapping the bundle to discover a palm-sized hunk of silver metal and jewels.
His eyes narrowed in thought.
"It’s a fine piece, isn't it?" Gaius commented disinterestedly, folding his clothes for the next day.
"Yeah," Arty replied distractedly, frowning. Something about the box tugged at his memory, but trying to hold onto the thought was like trying to grab a fistful of smoke. He turned the box in his hands, studying the patterns as they went all the way around. The dragons seemed almost alive, the way they bent and twisted around the corners, as if in flight. The jewels glittered in the poor light of the compartment.
"Where did Merlin get this?" he wondered. It seemed far too expensive a trinket for a peasant to own, especially one who lived as modestly as Merlin did. The unpleasant thought that he may have stolen it entered Arty's mind, but he brushed it aside.
Gaius coughed uncomfortably. "He's had that for as long as I've known him," the older man hedged, climbing the ladder to his bunk. Arty didn't pursue the matter further, too enthralled by the treasure in his hands.
His fingers ran around the edges, feeling the bumps and curves in the design. Slowly, he moved his fingers to the lid, pushing the latch to open it.
Inside, it was empty.
He closed the box again, feeling rather disappointed. He'd been certain there was something special inside it... something secret...
He shook his head at the thought - secrets! Where had he ever gotten such an idea? Clearly, the sea air was going to his brain. Hastily, he stowed the box back in Merlin's bag and settled down on his bunk.
"'Night, Gaius," he bid, turning on his side, trying to put the box from his mind.
At the mumbled reply from the bunk above him, Arty gave an amused huff. Closing his eyes, the gentle sway of the ship soon lulled him off to sleep.
* * *
Nimueh smirked as she gazed into the water, the image of the sleeping grand duke reflected back at her. She needed to end this once and for all - she'd waited far too long already.
"I will not fail again," she vowed, bringing her red phial up to dangle over the water, her eyes burning red as she invoked her borrowed power once again.
She wouldn't waste her efforts on theatrics this time. No more sending minions in her place. No more messy explosions or daring escapes. She would not give the others a chance to save him. This time, she'd let the grand duke finish himself off, all while his friends were too busy sleeping to notice.
"Gemǣlan," she chanted, feeling the magic flicker within her like a small flame, fusing with the brightly burning light of the phial. She'd infect his mind while he was helpless to fight back. He'd join the rest of the tsar’s family where he belonged, and she'd finally be at peace, free from the curse that tied her to this plane of existence.
Red tendrils crept downwards through the air, breaching the water to wrap themselves around Arthur.
She watched, a pleased grin growing on her face, as he began to stir.
* * *
The palace was a maze of hallways, each one stretching out for miles before him. He frowned lightly - it all felt so familiar, but he had no idea which way to go, the faces in the portraits that lined the walls grinning their amusement.
"Arthur?"
A beautiful blonde woman with clear blue eyes smiled at him, her laughter like tinkling bells. "Are you coming, dearest?"
He smiled back cheerfully, following her down the middle hall, the floor tilting invitingly beneath his feet, bidding him forward.
"Hurry, Arthur."
She picked up her skirts, grinning over her shoulder as she sped up, disappearing inside a doorway.
"Wait!"
He pressed his hand against the door, gripping the knob until it opened and he caught sight of her blue skirt vanishing around a corner.
"They're waiting for us, Arthur. I'm going to beat you there at this rate." Her laughter echoed down the hall.
He gave a deep laugh as well, feeling it rise from within his belly. He'd never felt so at ease, like everything around him was there for his amusement. Straightening again, he followed her.
* * *
Gwen shifted where she sat, crouched next to the stairs to the main deck, her knees pulled up to her chest and her blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She felt a little foolish for refusing to sleep in the cabin they'd been given, but the thought of being trapped in such a small room below deck had made her anxious. Her makeshift bed beneath the stairs wasn't much better, but the ship's crew had told her it was far too dangerous to sleep on the upper deck, much as the open air might have soothed her nerves a bit.
As it was, there was little chance of her getting any sleep tonight. She'd overheard one of the sailors talking earlier about a storm they were due that evening, and if the unsteady rocking of the ship was any indication, it had arrived. She hoped the medicine Gaius had taken was keeping him asleep - she feared the increased tumult of their trip would be too much for her seasick friend. She was feeling a bit nauseous, herself.
She shifted again as the ship swayed hard to the right, her stomach doing flips. As exciting as sea-travel was, she'd be happy to put her feet on solid ground again - and this with still a few days to go. A drawing pencil dug into her leg through her apron pocket as she twisted, trying to get comfortable.
A creak at the end of the hall caught her attention. She sat up straight, alert as she squinted through the darkness, looking for the source of the noise. She'd heard of rats living on large ships, along with other small rodents, and she didn't fancy being surprised by vicious vermin in her sleep.
Instead, her eyes widened as Arty came stumbling into view, slowly wafting out of the shadows of the hall. She frowned, wondering what had sent him from his bed so late at night. Perhaps he and Merlin had had another fight? They'd been getting along much better these days, but there was always a chance of one of them taking their teasing a bit too far....
He didn't appear to notice her, his eyes staring straight ahead as he walked, his face slack.
"Arty?" she whispered, standing slowly, not wanting to startle him. He kept walking, heading for the stairs, and she moved to cut him off. "Arty? What is it? Did something happen?"
In the low light below deck it was difficult to see, but something about his expression unnerved her, his eyes vacant as he continued to ignore her presence. She laid a hand on his shoulder as he passed, giving him a quick shake. "Arty!" she said, a bit louder now.
He gave no sign that he'd heard her, a strange smile on his face as he moved toward the stairs.
He's asleep, she realised, going still. Gwen had heard about this sort of thing, but had never seen it firsthand. The sailors' warnings echoed in her head as the ship gave another violent sway. There was no telling what trouble Arty could get himself into in this state.
"Wake up!" she urged, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him harder. "Arty, you need to wake up, now."
His arm shot out unexpectedly, shoving her roughly out of the way. Shocked, she watched as he slowly ascended the stairs, heading for the upper deck.
She raced back down the corridor to their cabin, finding the door to be locked. Panicked, she frantically beat her open hand against the door.
"Merlin!" she shouted, glancing back down the hall to where she could just see Arty disappearing up the stairs. "Gaius, wake up! Please!"
* * *
The staircase went on forever, the blonde woman always just ahead of him, her eyes twinkling in delight at his slow pace.
"They're waiting for us, dearest. Hurry," she called, her voice familiar and warm. He had no choice but to follow.
The stairs tilted beneath his feet - pulling him forward or pushing him back, he couldn’t say - but he kept his balance, hearing sounds of laughter from somewhere outside. A swell of longing surged through him.
"Faster, Arthur. Faster," the woman urged, a bit of panic in her eyes, but it vanished quickly. "They're waiting."
He followed as best he could, taking the stairs two at a time, eager to get closer to the voices that called to him in their amusement.
* * *
Nimueh smirked as she watched him ascend the stairs, stepping out onto the upper deck of the ship. The storm was perfect, sending waves crashing over the sides as rain poured down in sheets, both beating senselessly against the oblivious grand duke. Even if those friends of his tried to stop him, they'd be too late. There was no way they could save him from the torrent of waves and winds that had turned the calm sea into a tempest.
She ran her fingers along the edge of her scrying bowl, anxious as he stumbled his way across the slippery deck, heading for the rail.
"That's it," she soothed, urging him along, her voice mixing with the narrative of his dream. "You're so close."
In the dream, he smiled, following his mother, and Nimueh laughed. He'd be back with his family soon enough - back with that pack of arrogant traitors where he belonged.
* * *
"Wake up!"
Gwen grit her teeth, pounding harder on the cabin door. They weren't answering, and she was growing tenser with each passing second. Arty was in danger up on that deck alone and they needed to help him.
"Merlin, please!"
A lifetime passed and the handle turned, the door falling open to reveal a messy-haired Merlin, confusion and annoyance battling for prominence on his face. She sagged in relief, stepping back from the door.
"Gwen? Whussit?" he mumbled, rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.
"Something's wrong with Arty," she said anxiously.
He frowned, turning back to the bottom bunk. His eyes went wide in shock as he found it empty.
"Where is he?" he demanded, panic flashing across his face.
"He's headed for the upper deck," she said, twisting her hands anxiously. "He’s asleep and I couldn’t wake him."
Merlin didn't wait to hear the rest, darting past her into the hallway and bounding up the steps. "Wake Gaius," he called over his shoulder as he ran, and Gwen nodded, stepping into the cabin to try and stir her drugged friend.
* * *
He hesitated, looking at the branches of the tree with uncertainty, not sure what was holding him back.
The woman touched his arm, encouraging. "Don't you want to see them, Arthur?"
He did, more than anything. Their laughter sounded once more from the other side of the fence, just out of reach.
Stepping forward, he began to climb.
* * *
Merlin rounded the stair to the upper deck, shoving the heavy door open, and was instantly drenched by a wall of water and wind. Squinting through the water dripping into his eyes, he scanned the deck, finding no sign of Arty.
Something was seriously wrong, he could feel it. He needed to find him, needed to be certain that he was all right.
He slid across the wet deck, sprayed with the remnants of a wave, struggling to keep himself from being washed over the side.
Merlin’s longish hair whipped about his face as he scanned the rain-soaked deck desperately for some sign of the other man.
He shouted in panic as he spotted his missing companion climbing the rail on the far side of the ship, wavering unsteadily in the storm. His stomach dropped out, horror freezing him in place.
"Arty!"
* * *
Arthur continued to climb, steadying his feet against the rain-soaked rail when they threatened to slide. Gripping one of the anchor lines, he pulled himself onto the top bar, swinging back and forth with the tilt and sway of the ship, inches from death.
Nimueh grinned, anticipation seeping into her bones.
"That's it," she bid eagerly. "Just another step, Arthur. Then it will all be over.”
His grip was slipping. He wouldn’t be able to stay aloft for much longer. She cheered the grand duke on, longing to see him bring about his own demise, one final stab against the Petrovins. Her smirk twitched to the side as he lifted a foot off the rail, hovering out over the stormy water.
Just a bit further.
* * *
Wrenching back his fear, Merlin flat out ran, focused solely on reaching Arty before a wave could pull him overboard.
Struggling against the wind and the increasingly slippery deck, Merlin stumbled, silently begging anyone who was listening for the strength to get there in time. Arty lurched forward dangerously, one foot off the rail, and he suddenly envisioned him disappearing over the side, lost in the crash of the waves.
"Arty!" he screamed, but the sound was lost in the roar of the storm. The other man continued on, locked in a deadly dream.
Arty's grip on the line loosened, his body started to fall forward, and Merlin reached out a hand, gripping the back of Arty's soaked nightshirt for all it was worth. He pulled against the weight of the larger man, his feet slipping as they tried to find purchase on the water-logged deck, knowing he was just as likely to go toppling overboard with the heavier man as he was to pull him to safety.
A second later, he was crushed by the weight of Arty's body falling back into him. He had barely a second to revel in his victory before the sleeping man started struggling for his life, shoving and kicking. An errant punch caught Merlin across the jaw as he tried to grab the stronger man's wrists long enough to wake him.
"Stop- Arty, wake- Ouch! Arty, damn it, wake up you idiot!"
Arty was pulling back toward the rail, seemingly desperate to go over it. Against his greater bulk and strength Merlin knew he couldn't hold him back for long. Desperate, he pulled his hand back, landing a heavy slap across Arty's face, the sound echoing over the loud roar of the storm.
He cringed, awaiting retaliation from the sleepwalker. Instead, Arty's hands dropped to their sides, a puzzled look replacing the vacant one.
"I- Wha- Did you just slap me?"
* * *
Screaming in outrage, Nimueh dashed her hand across the water, distorting the image of the two friends. Three times now, she'd failed in killing the youngest grand duke, all because he was too heavily protected, always hiding behind others to save his sorry life. She screeched, lobbing a ball of fire against the wall of her cave, watching with little satisfaction as it exploded into nothing.
The other man was proving far more trouble than he was worth, his insistence on protecting the grand duke quickly becoming a nuisance. As long as he was around, she’d have no chance of getting close enough...
She'd need to get Arthur completely alone. Far away from the annoying peasants who kept insisting on interfering in her revenge. This would call for something far more drastic than a simple sleeping spell. Raising the phial, she glared into the oozing red contents, drawing up the power she'd need. There was no room for mistakes this time.
She'd kill him in person.
* * *
Arty blinked owlishly against the pounding rain on his face, feeling disoriented. His clothes were soaked to the skin, and how had he gotten to the upper deck? Not to mention that his jaw stung from where he'd been slapped - slapped! Like a hysterical girl! - by a pale-faced Merlin, who was still staring at him as if uncertain what he'd do next.
As it turned out, it was he who should have worried about Merlin's next action, as the other man shoved him back across the deck rather forcefully, anger sweeping across his eyes.
"You idiot! Why didn't you warn us you wander in your sleep? You could have been killed!"
Confused, his brain struggled to put together the pieces, bits of the rather peaceful dream he'd been having coming back to him, though the face of the woman leading him was distorted. It almost felt as if it had been someone else urging him along, someone he recognized.... A chill swept through him that had little to do with the large puddle of water they currently sat in.
"I was... sleepwalking?"
"You almost jumped off the boat, you great moron!" Merlin shouted angrily over the sound of another wave crashing against the deck. The harried concern in his eyes was no doubt more evident than Merlin was aware. This had obviously shaken him badly. Guilt gripped Arty.
"I- It's never happened before," he said in shock, the gravity of what could have happened sinking in. He frowned, feeling a confusing mixture of foolishness and fear for his actions, but the anger faded from Merlin's face almost as quickly as it had appeared.
"I guess this nightmare thing's a bit of an issue with you, isn't it?" he joked feebly, his expression strained.
Arty didn't answer, though he appreciated the attempt at normalcy. Shivering, the cold rain blew hard against his back and Merlin jerked his head toward the stairs, standing.
"Come on, let's get back to the cabin. Wouldn't want you freezing your royal behind off when we’re so close to Paris."
He nodded, following him inside, his thoughts on the woman with the pale blue eyes that now seemed almost red in memory.
Part Seven
Translations (for those that want them):
Gemǣlan - (Old English) dream
Author: batgurl88
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, Gaius, Uther, Nimueh
Wordcount: 6,156 (52,352 overall)
Summary: Arthur is a royal who can't remember his past. Merlin and Gaius are con-men, hoping to return Arthur to Uther for a hefty reward, but little do they know they have the real deal on their hands.
A/N: Some lines and plot aspects respectfully borrowed from both Twentieth Century Fox’s Anastasia and BBC’s Merlin. Extra special thanks to justicemischief for beta'ing and for all of her help with the action scenes in this chapter.
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Where This Road May Go
Part Six
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Merlin leaned back in his seat, holding up an old photograph of a gaunt man with a moustache.
"All right, who's this?"
"Count Gawain Demidov," Arty answered with ease. "He bred dogs, and he hated children. Owain and I used to hide during his visits."
"Right. And this?" he asked, pointing to a portrait of a young girl.
"Sophia Tarasova, only daughter of Count Aulfric Tarasov, Councillor of State. Widower. He used to travel with a large walking stick."
Merlin nodded, turning to a new page in the photo album. After more than a month of walking and hitching short rides, they'd finally managed to get spots aboard a bus that would take them all the way to Stralsund, where they would be catching their boat to Paris. Gwen and Gaius had settled into their seats across the aisle, the pair taking another much-needed break from royalty lessons, insisting that he and Arty do the same. Surprisingly, though, Arty had shown little interest in stopping, eagerly skimming through one of the photo albums until Merlin finally decided to quiz him on it.
His eyes fell to an older picture of the Petrovins, bribed off a baroness who'd been down on her luck.
"Okay, here's the tsar, and the tsaritsa, and their family," Merlin pointed, indicating the different people in the photograph, more out of habit than actual need. Arty had been studying them intently for over a month, and probably could have drawn their faces in his sleep. "And that's their boat-"
"'The Standardt,'" Arty finished distractedly, his eyes following Merlin's finger around the page.
Merlin frowned, trying to remember when they’d taught him the name of the boat. "How did you know that?"
Arty blinked. "It's... written on the side of the lifeboat," he pointed hesitantly.
"Oh," said Merlin, feeling foolish. "Right. Well, the tsar loved boating. In the spring, the royal family spent their time at Tsarskoye Selo. And in summer, they lived at Peterhof Palace."
"Tsarskoye Selo and Peterhof," repeated Arty. "Got it."
Merlin studied him, impressed with the dedication that had only increased as they neared Paris. He'd had his doubts initially, but Arty had turned out to be a fairly good student, absorbing whatever he and Gaius taught him.
"Do you think the comtesse will agree to see me?" Arty wondered, his voice far too casual as he turned to the next page of photographs.
He nodded. "Gaius is an old acquaintance of hers. She'll agree to see him, which means she'll see you."
Arty's head shot up, intrigued. "Gaius? Really?"
"He was a member of the Imperial Court," Merlin confided. He and Gaius had shared little with Arty and Gwen of their respective pasts, but Merlin didn't think his partner would mind.
"Well, that makes sense," Arty shrugged, taking it in stride. "Doesn't really explain you, though."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Arty drawled, "That he has an excuse for the vast reserve of royal knowledge he has at his disposal, whereas your decidedly creepy firsthand knowledge has no real explanation. Tell me, Merlin," he said seriously, looking him in the eye. "Are you secretly harbouring obsessive tendencies for members of the royal family?"
Merlin rolled his eyes, looking out the window.
"It's all right, you know," Arty continued, still in the same overly-serious tone of voice Merlin had come to associate with his teasing. "You can tell me all about your little crush. Did you draw hearts around Grand Duchess Helen's name? It seems like the sort of girly thing you would do."
He felt his cheeks heat, the taunting hitting a little too close to home. Not that he'd ever drawn hearts around the grand duke's name or anything like that.
"You're slouching again," he commented lamely in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
Arty smirked, knowing he'd won, though he straightened his shoulders all the same. There was a bit of tightness around his eyes that confused Merlin.
"Have you ever been to France before?" said Arty after a moment of silence.
"No," answered Merlin, leaning back in his seat again. "I've never left Russia, actually."
"Do you plan on staying there?" he asked, staring hard at the photo album, an odd inflection in his voice. "Once we meet the prince, I mean."
Merlin frowned - hadn’t they already gone over this? He supposed he’d never given a straight answer on the train, irritated as he’d been by Arty’s pestering, but now he gave the question serious thought.
Truthfully, he still hadn't worked out what he'd like to do next. If everything went according to plan, he'd have more than enough money to do whatever he liked. He'd always assumed that would mean buying himself a nice place somewhere in Russia, but now that they had gone so far, he rather liked his earlier idea of travelling a bit more. Maybe he could tour France for a while - after finding Gaius a nice place to retire to, of course.
Arty was still looking at him expectantly, but Merlin was saved the task of having to answer, catching sight of the approaching harbour outside the window. "We're here."
* * *
The cargo ship Merlin had bartered them passage on was called the USS Odenwald. They were the only civilian passengers leaving with the crew from Stralsund, and had been given a small two-bunk room on the lower deck. Gaius had begged off to the upper deck almost immediately after they cast off, sickened by the movement of the ship, while Gwen had avoided the lower deck entirely, disappearing to explore their new environment, her drawing materials in tow.
Arty neatly smoothed out his bedroll on top of the thin bed sheets of the bunk. It was still too early in the day to retire, but it didn't hurt to stake a claim.
They'd been at sea for a couple of hours, and Arty was already acclimatizing to the steady lean and tilt of the boat, adjusting his footing accordingly as he made his way about their small compartment. He didn't hear the door creak open behind him, but he caught sight of dark brown hair out of the corner of his eye.
"Settling in, I see," Merlin commented dryly from the doorway, raising an eyebrow, his hands behind his back.
"I've already claimed the bottom bunk, and Gaius will need the other one, so you'll have the floor, I think," Arty informed him brightly. "Gwen's decided to sleep in the corridor if she can - I don't think she likes being below deck much."
Merlin nodded, seeming a bit distracted.
"I got you something," he said, holding out a paper-wrapped package.
Arty paused, standing up straight.
"What is it?" he questioned, eyeing the package with distrust.
Merlin rolled his eyes, shoving it at his chest. "It's a court uniform. Tsar Nicholas the first required all men to wear them to the imperial balls. I thought you might like it- I mean- you might want to wear it when we meet Morgana."
"Why?" Arty asked, glancing curiously at Merlin.
The other man looked as if the conversation were quickly taking an undesired turn.
"Because...er, that is..." he answered uncomfortably. Arty raised his eyebrows. "Well, you can't wear those rags to meet Morgana. Put it on, will you?"
Quirking his lips, Arty tore at the packaging, revealing a red tunic with gold threading. It wasn't new, by any means, but it must have cost Merlin a pretty penny all the same.
"Careful, Merlin," he cautioned, smirking. "If you keep buying me presents, people will start to think you're a nice person."
Merlin scoffed, his cheeks reddening. "Just put it on, already."
He turned quickly and left, shaking his head, the door falling closed behind him.
Arty stared after him thoughtfully, a puzzled frown marring his brow as he glanced back down at the gift in his hands. There were times when he almost thought he understood Merlin. But other times...
* * *
"How long until we reach Paris?" Gwen wondered.
"About three days," Merlin replied, leaning against the railing as he gazed out at the water. Gwen and Gaius had found makeshift seating on-deck, pushing some wooden boxes together near the rail. Gwen sat drawing, as usual, her fingers coated in charcoal and a smudge of gray across her forehead where she'd pushed her unruly hair out of her face. Gaius had been silent, for the most part, the motion of the ship making him yearn for fresh air and steady ground. "We'll be docking in the port of Le Havre. We'll catch another train from there."
"I only hope Arty is ready," Gaius remarked idly. "It won't be easy convincing Morgana he's the grand duke. She's as sharp as her father was, and twice as hard to win over."
"He's ready," Merlin said with certainty.
"Oh," Gwen interrupted with a gasp, standing to stare at something behind him.
"Now, that's more like it," commented Gaius approvingly, following her gaze with a soft smile.
Merlin turned his head, his jaw dropping.
Arty stood near the stairs to the lower decks, his hands clasped behind his back. The red tunic and breeches looked stunning on him, giving him a commanding presence, and the gold trimming made something in his eyes glitter with power and charm. The setting sun behind him presented him with an almost ethereal glow. He stood straighter, somehow, his confident smile tinged with a hint of uncertainty that only added to his appeal. Merlin stared - for the first time, he could truly see the shimmering of royalty beneath the orphan’s rough exterior.
"Well?" Arty prompted when no one spoke.
Merlin shook himself from his reverie and cleared his throat.
"You- you look nice," he replied, inwardly wincing at himself. Nice? Really? That was the best he could come up with?
Arty rolled his eyes, appearing to have expected nothing less. He ventured closer, giving a small spin for Gwen. The artist rushed forward to admire the fine threads up close.
"You look like a grand duke, indeed, Arty," Gaius complimented with a pleased smile. "And now that you are dressed for a ball, we can work on your dancing. Merlin?"
Both men seemed to be caught off-guard by this request, turning together to frown at the white-haired forger.
"Me?" Merlin demanded.
Gaius tutted. "He needs to learn how, and you're a fair enough dancer. Besides, far I'm too old for such things," he added lightly.
Merlin scowled - Gaius always pulled the age card at the most inconvenient of times.
"Better you than me," Gwen whispered to him as she moved to take her seat again. "I swear I have two left feet."
The two men exchanged an awkward glance, quickly looking away again. Deciding it was up to him to take the first step, Merlin cleared his throat. He moved forward, taking Arty's hand in his and laying his other hand on a trim waist, trying to ignore the odd feeling that coursed through him at the contact.
They stood like that for a moment, neither quite sure what to do next, Merlin trying not to notice Gwen's gleeful grin as she watched them from the sidelines.
"... Shouldn't we be moving?" Arty asked, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin shook himself from his frozen stupor.
"Right. Yes. Well, it's pretty simple," he said, looking down at their feet. "It's a fast beat, but it's just the same four steps around in a circle for the first part."
Gaius cleared his throat, interrupting.
"Don't you think Arty ought to lead, Merlin?"
Steadfastly ignoring Arty's smug grin, he sighed before moving his left hand to Arty's shoulder, letting the other man's hand rest on his waist.
"Excellent," Gaius assessed, waving his hand to an imaginary beat in lieu of music. "Now, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three..."
It was a rocky start, with both men walking straight into each other, neither used to this particular orientation. The second attempt wasn't much better. Arty moved to his left just as Merlin went the opposite way, resulting in an awkward pulling of arms.
"Together, now!" Gaius called helpfully from the railing, sounding vaguely amused to Merlin's great annoyance.
He stumbled, trampling Arty's feet. Arty rolled his eyes.
"Aren't you supposed to be teaching me how to dance?" he asked, pulling him up straight.
Merlin scowled at him, stepping on his foot again, this time on purpose.
They turned in another clumsy circle, Arty shaking his head at the other man's actions. "Stop trying to lead, Merlin," he ordered.
"It's hard to follow someone who doesn't know what they're doing," he retorted pleasantly.
"I know what I'm doing," Arty snapped, affronted, and truthfully he did seem to. For someone who'd never taken a dance lesson in his life, he was good at keeping the beat, and had only stepped on Merlin's foot twice so far. His grip on Merlin's waist was light, but he knew how to press down a bit as they turned, guiding him.
"You know," Arty said after a moment of silence, a slow teasing grin working its way across his face, "I don't think this feels right, somehow. Shouldn't you be wearing a dress of some sort? How else am I to practice manoeuvring around my partner's skirts?"
Merlin's face reddened - already a far-too-familiar feeling on this voyage. "I'm not wearing a dress!" he protested.
But Arty seemed rather caught up in the idea. "A nice red one," he decided, giving it much thought. "With feathers, most likely."
The conman stared at him. "Only you would think red feathers were a good look for a person. And if you want a partner in a dress, you can ask Gwen to dance, but I don't think she'd have you."
Arty frowned at this suggestion. Somehow, over the course of their bickering, they'd evened out in their dancing, their brisk steps more resembling of a waltz than the clumsy fumbling they'd started out with. Neither one seemed to notice when Gaius stopped counting out the beat.
"So, where did someone like you learn to dance?" Arty inquired interestedly, raising an eyebrow.
Merlin blushed, remembering the evenings he'd spent watching the royal balls from the servant's entrance. There was no reason to tell Arty about that, of course. "We're not all country bumpkins, you know," he replied instead. "Some of us have picked up a thing or two along the way."
"I never said you were a country bumpkin," said Arty, a peculiar look on his face.
From their seats near the railing, Gaius and Gwen watched as the pair spun in-time to music only they could hear.
"They're doing quite well together, I think," said Gwen as she lightly sketched two dancing figures onto a thin piece of paper she'd procured from one of the sailors.
"Yes," Gaius agreed, raising a thoughtful eyebrow.
They had the deck completely to themselves, giving Merlin and Arty plenty of room. Their steps became increasingly in-sync as they spun, though Merlin outright refused to let Arty twirl him, arguing that it was something only the "really pompous" dancers did unless part of the original dance pattern.
Arty cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Look, I ... I forgot to thank you earlier," he said, his grip tightening on Merlin's waist, not meeting his eyes. "For the tunic."
"Oh, er, yeah, no problem," Merlin replied awkwardly. He coughed. "...Red's a good colour for you," he complimented, regretting the words the minute they were out of his mouth. He waited for the mocking glint to appear in his dance partner's eyes, but instead of offering to have him fitted for that dress or making an arrogant statement about his own attractiveness, Arty appeared almost pleased by the compliment.
Merlin felt his oversized ears turn red with unwarranted embarrassment, the twirling of their dance starting to make him dizzy. Feeling lightheaded, he slowed the waltz to a halt. "That's... probably enough for now," he said softly, his hand still in Arty's.
Arty nodded, his face slightly flushed from exertion. "Yeah," he replied.
They locked eyes, and he found himself leaning forward slightly.
"Arty, I-"
Arty swallowed. Was it Merlin's imagination, or had he leaned forward as well? "Yes?"
"I-" He tilted his head slightly, stepping closer-
A gust of wind swept up, sending Gwen's paper flying across the deck and her chasing after it with a startled cry.
Merlin stepped back, dropping his hands at the reminder of their audience. He cleared his throat. He couldn't believe he'd almost...
Embarrassed, he shook the thought from his head.
"You- you’re getting better," he said instead, giving a confused Arty an awkward pat on the shoulder. He headed for the lower deck, blaming the sea air for his brief moment of insanity, leaving his three companions behind.
* * *
The rest of the evening had passed without consequence, the four of them taking their meal in the mess before retiring to their room, bidding goodnight to Gwen, who'd resolved to find a "less cramped" place to sleep, taking her bedroll with her.
Cautiously, Arty toed at Merlin's bedroll on the floor, the other man giving a sleepy sigh as he turned on his side away from him. Merlin had been suspiciously quiet the rest of the night, turning in shortly after Gwen left, claiming to be too tired to stay up for the remainder of Arty's lesson on Grand Duke Owain's favourite books.
"He's alert most of the time, but when he gets the chance, he can sleep through just about anything." Gaius sounded like a disapproving parent, his eyes on Merlin's sleeping form.
Ashamed to have been caught, Arty retracted his foot, leaning back against the edge of his bunk. Instead he glared at the bedroll on the floor, inexplicably angry at Merlin for sleeping when he was too keyed up with excitement to do the same. They'd reach Paris in a matter of days, and then Arty would finally have a chance to put his teachings to the test, finding out once and for all if it had been in vain.
"How much longer do you think it'll be till we get there?" he asked, watching as the older man gulped down a concoction he'd bartered off one of the sailors to settle his stomach.
"I imagine about an hour less than the last time you asked me," Gaius answered dryly. He shot Arty a glance over his shoulder. "You know, it will seem much faster if you get some sleep," he added, raising a meaningful eyebrow.
Arty stood reluctantly, accidentally knocking over Merlin's bag as he did. A bundle of fabric fell out with a soft clink, a hint of silver glimmering from beneath the folds. Curious, he knelt, unwrapping the bundle to discover a palm-sized hunk of silver metal and jewels.
His eyes narrowed in thought.
"It’s a fine piece, isn't it?" Gaius commented disinterestedly, folding his clothes for the next day.
"Yeah," Arty replied distractedly, frowning. Something about the box tugged at his memory, but trying to hold onto the thought was like trying to grab a fistful of smoke. He turned the box in his hands, studying the patterns as they went all the way around. The dragons seemed almost alive, the way they bent and twisted around the corners, as if in flight. The jewels glittered in the poor light of the compartment.
"Where did Merlin get this?" he wondered. It seemed far too expensive a trinket for a peasant to own, especially one who lived as modestly as Merlin did. The unpleasant thought that he may have stolen it entered Arty's mind, but he brushed it aside.
Gaius coughed uncomfortably. "He's had that for as long as I've known him," the older man hedged, climbing the ladder to his bunk. Arty didn't pursue the matter further, too enthralled by the treasure in his hands.
His fingers ran around the edges, feeling the bumps and curves in the design. Slowly, he moved his fingers to the lid, pushing the latch to open it.
Inside, it was empty.
He closed the box again, feeling rather disappointed. He'd been certain there was something special inside it... something secret...
He shook his head at the thought - secrets! Where had he ever gotten such an idea? Clearly, the sea air was going to his brain. Hastily, he stowed the box back in Merlin's bag and settled down on his bunk.
"'Night, Gaius," he bid, turning on his side, trying to put the box from his mind.
At the mumbled reply from the bunk above him, Arty gave an amused huff. Closing his eyes, the gentle sway of the ship soon lulled him off to sleep.
* * *
Nimueh smirked as she gazed into the water, the image of the sleeping grand duke reflected back at her. She needed to end this once and for all - she'd waited far too long already.
"I will not fail again," she vowed, bringing her red phial up to dangle over the water, her eyes burning red as she invoked her borrowed power once again.
She wouldn't waste her efforts on theatrics this time. No more sending minions in her place. No more messy explosions or daring escapes. She would not give the others a chance to save him. This time, she'd let the grand duke finish himself off, all while his friends were too busy sleeping to notice.
"Gemǣlan," she chanted, feeling the magic flicker within her like a small flame, fusing with the brightly burning light of the phial. She'd infect his mind while he was helpless to fight back. He'd join the rest of the tsar’s family where he belonged, and she'd finally be at peace, free from the curse that tied her to this plane of existence.
Red tendrils crept downwards through the air, breaching the water to wrap themselves around Arthur.
She watched, a pleased grin growing on her face, as he began to stir.
* * *
The palace was a maze of hallways, each one stretching out for miles before him. He frowned lightly - it all felt so familiar, but he had no idea which way to go, the faces in the portraits that lined the walls grinning their amusement.
"Arthur?"
A beautiful blonde woman with clear blue eyes smiled at him, her laughter like tinkling bells. "Are you coming, dearest?"
He smiled back cheerfully, following her down the middle hall, the floor tilting invitingly beneath his feet, bidding him forward.
"Hurry, Arthur."
She picked up her skirts, grinning over her shoulder as she sped up, disappearing inside a doorway.
"Wait!"
He pressed his hand against the door, gripping the knob until it opened and he caught sight of her blue skirt vanishing around a corner.
"They're waiting for us, Arthur. I'm going to beat you there at this rate." Her laughter echoed down the hall.
He gave a deep laugh as well, feeling it rise from within his belly. He'd never felt so at ease, like everything around him was there for his amusement. Straightening again, he followed her.
* * *
Gwen shifted where she sat, crouched next to the stairs to the main deck, her knees pulled up to her chest and her blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She felt a little foolish for refusing to sleep in the cabin they'd been given, but the thought of being trapped in such a small room below deck had made her anxious. Her makeshift bed beneath the stairs wasn't much better, but the ship's crew had told her it was far too dangerous to sleep on the upper deck, much as the open air might have soothed her nerves a bit.
As it was, there was little chance of her getting any sleep tonight. She'd overheard one of the sailors talking earlier about a storm they were due that evening, and if the unsteady rocking of the ship was any indication, it had arrived. She hoped the medicine Gaius had taken was keeping him asleep - she feared the increased tumult of their trip would be too much for her seasick friend. She was feeling a bit nauseous, herself.
She shifted again as the ship swayed hard to the right, her stomach doing flips. As exciting as sea-travel was, she'd be happy to put her feet on solid ground again - and this with still a few days to go. A drawing pencil dug into her leg through her apron pocket as she twisted, trying to get comfortable.
A creak at the end of the hall caught her attention. She sat up straight, alert as she squinted through the darkness, looking for the source of the noise. She'd heard of rats living on large ships, along with other small rodents, and she didn't fancy being surprised by vicious vermin in her sleep.
Instead, her eyes widened as Arty came stumbling into view, slowly wafting out of the shadows of the hall. She frowned, wondering what had sent him from his bed so late at night. Perhaps he and Merlin had had another fight? They'd been getting along much better these days, but there was always a chance of one of them taking their teasing a bit too far....
He didn't appear to notice her, his eyes staring straight ahead as he walked, his face slack.
"Arty?" she whispered, standing slowly, not wanting to startle him. He kept walking, heading for the stairs, and she moved to cut him off. "Arty? What is it? Did something happen?"
In the low light below deck it was difficult to see, but something about his expression unnerved her, his eyes vacant as he continued to ignore her presence. She laid a hand on his shoulder as he passed, giving him a quick shake. "Arty!" she said, a bit louder now.
He gave no sign that he'd heard her, a strange smile on his face as he moved toward the stairs.
He's asleep, she realised, going still. Gwen had heard about this sort of thing, but had never seen it firsthand. The sailors' warnings echoed in her head as the ship gave another violent sway. There was no telling what trouble Arty could get himself into in this state.
"Wake up!" she urged, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him harder. "Arty, you need to wake up, now."
His arm shot out unexpectedly, shoving her roughly out of the way. Shocked, she watched as he slowly ascended the stairs, heading for the upper deck.
She raced back down the corridor to their cabin, finding the door to be locked. Panicked, she frantically beat her open hand against the door.
"Merlin!" she shouted, glancing back down the hall to where she could just see Arty disappearing up the stairs. "Gaius, wake up! Please!"
* * *
The staircase went on forever, the blonde woman always just ahead of him, her eyes twinkling in delight at his slow pace.
"They're waiting for us, dearest. Hurry," she called, her voice familiar and warm. He had no choice but to follow.
The stairs tilted beneath his feet - pulling him forward or pushing him back, he couldn’t say - but he kept his balance, hearing sounds of laughter from somewhere outside. A swell of longing surged through him.
"Faster, Arthur. Faster," the woman urged, a bit of panic in her eyes, but it vanished quickly. "They're waiting."
He followed as best he could, taking the stairs two at a time, eager to get closer to the voices that called to him in their amusement.
* * *
Nimueh smirked as she watched him ascend the stairs, stepping out onto the upper deck of the ship. The storm was perfect, sending waves crashing over the sides as rain poured down in sheets, both beating senselessly against the oblivious grand duke. Even if those friends of his tried to stop him, they'd be too late. There was no way they could save him from the torrent of waves and winds that had turned the calm sea into a tempest.
She ran her fingers along the edge of her scrying bowl, anxious as he stumbled his way across the slippery deck, heading for the rail.
"That's it," she soothed, urging him along, her voice mixing with the narrative of his dream. "You're so close."
In the dream, he smiled, following his mother, and Nimueh laughed. He'd be back with his family soon enough - back with that pack of arrogant traitors where he belonged.
* * *
"Wake up!"
Gwen grit her teeth, pounding harder on the cabin door. They weren't answering, and she was growing tenser with each passing second. Arty was in danger up on that deck alone and they needed to help him.
"Merlin, please!"
A lifetime passed and the handle turned, the door falling open to reveal a messy-haired Merlin, confusion and annoyance battling for prominence on his face. She sagged in relief, stepping back from the door.
"Gwen? Whussit?" he mumbled, rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.
"Something's wrong with Arty," she said anxiously.
He frowned, turning back to the bottom bunk. His eyes went wide in shock as he found it empty.
"Where is he?" he demanded, panic flashing across his face.
"He's headed for the upper deck," she said, twisting her hands anxiously. "He’s asleep and I couldn’t wake him."
Merlin didn't wait to hear the rest, darting past her into the hallway and bounding up the steps. "Wake Gaius," he called over his shoulder as he ran, and Gwen nodded, stepping into the cabin to try and stir her drugged friend.
* * *
He hesitated, looking at the branches of the tree with uncertainty, not sure what was holding him back.
The woman touched his arm, encouraging. "Don't you want to see them, Arthur?"
He did, more than anything. Their laughter sounded once more from the other side of the fence, just out of reach.
Stepping forward, he began to climb.
* * *
Merlin rounded the stair to the upper deck, shoving the heavy door open, and was instantly drenched by a wall of water and wind. Squinting through the water dripping into his eyes, he scanned the deck, finding no sign of Arty.
Something was seriously wrong, he could feel it. He needed to find him, needed to be certain that he was all right.
He slid across the wet deck, sprayed with the remnants of a wave, struggling to keep himself from being washed over the side.
Merlin’s longish hair whipped about his face as he scanned the rain-soaked deck desperately for some sign of the other man.
He shouted in panic as he spotted his missing companion climbing the rail on the far side of the ship, wavering unsteadily in the storm. His stomach dropped out, horror freezing him in place.
"Arty!"
* * *
Arthur continued to climb, steadying his feet against the rain-soaked rail when they threatened to slide. Gripping one of the anchor lines, he pulled himself onto the top bar, swinging back and forth with the tilt and sway of the ship, inches from death.
Nimueh grinned, anticipation seeping into her bones.
"That's it," she bid eagerly. "Just another step, Arthur. Then it will all be over.”
His grip was slipping. He wouldn’t be able to stay aloft for much longer. She cheered the grand duke on, longing to see him bring about his own demise, one final stab against the Petrovins. Her smirk twitched to the side as he lifted a foot off the rail, hovering out over the stormy water.
Just a bit further.
* * *
Wrenching back his fear, Merlin flat out ran, focused solely on reaching Arty before a wave could pull him overboard.
Struggling against the wind and the increasingly slippery deck, Merlin stumbled, silently begging anyone who was listening for the strength to get there in time. Arty lurched forward dangerously, one foot off the rail, and he suddenly envisioned him disappearing over the side, lost in the crash of the waves.
"Arty!" he screamed, but the sound was lost in the roar of the storm. The other man continued on, locked in a deadly dream.
Arty's grip on the line loosened, his body started to fall forward, and Merlin reached out a hand, gripping the back of Arty's soaked nightshirt for all it was worth. He pulled against the weight of the larger man, his feet slipping as they tried to find purchase on the water-logged deck, knowing he was just as likely to go toppling overboard with the heavier man as he was to pull him to safety.
A second later, he was crushed by the weight of Arty's body falling back into him. He had barely a second to revel in his victory before the sleeping man started struggling for his life, shoving and kicking. An errant punch caught Merlin across the jaw as he tried to grab the stronger man's wrists long enough to wake him.
"Stop- Arty, wake- Ouch! Arty, damn it, wake up you idiot!"
Arty was pulling back toward the rail, seemingly desperate to go over it. Against his greater bulk and strength Merlin knew he couldn't hold him back for long. Desperate, he pulled his hand back, landing a heavy slap across Arty's face, the sound echoing over the loud roar of the storm.
He cringed, awaiting retaliation from the sleepwalker. Instead, Arty's hands dropped to their sides, a puzzled look replacing the vacant one.
"I- Wha- Did you just slap me?"
* * *
Screaming in outrage, Nimueh dashed her hand across the water, distorting the image of the two friends. Three times now, she'd failed in killing the youngest grand duke, all because he was too heavily protected, always hiding behind others to save his sorry life. She screeched, lobbing a ball of fire against the wall of her cave, watching with little satisfaction as it exploded into nothing.
The other man was proving far more trouble than he was worth, his insistence on protecting the grand duke quickly becoming a nuisance. As long as he was around, she’d have no chance of getting close enough...
She'd need to get Arthur completely alone. Far away from the annoying peasants who kept insisting on interfering in her revenge. This would call for something far more drastic than a simple sleeping spell. Raising the phial, she glared into the oozing red contents, drawing up the power she'd need. There was no room for mistakes this time.
She'd kill him in person.
* * *
Arty blinked owlishly against the pounding rain on his face, feeling disoriented. His clothes were soaked to the skin, and how had he gotten to the upper deck? Not to mention that his jaw stung from where he'd been slapped - slapped! Like a hysterical girl! - by a pale-faced Merlin, who was still staring at him as if uncertain what he'd do next.
As it turned out, it was he who should have worried about Merlin's next action, as the other man shoved him back across the deck rather forcefully, anger sweeping across his eyes.
"You idiot! Why didn't you warn us you wander in your sleep? You could have been killed!"
Confused, his brain struggled to put together the pieces, bits of the rather peaceful dream he'd been having coming back to him, though the face of the woman leading him was distorted. It almost felt as if it had been someone else urging him along, someone he recognized.... A chill swept through him that had little to do with the large puddle of water they currently sat in.
"I was... sleepwalking?"
"You almost jumped off the boat, you great moron!" Merlin shouted angrily over the sound of another wave crashing against the deck. The harried concern in his eyes was no doubt more evident than Merlin was aware. This had obviously shaken him badly. Guilt gripped Arty.
"I- It's never happened before," he said in shock, the gravity of what could have happened sinking in. He frowned, feeling a confusing mixture of foolishness and fear for his actions, but the anger faded from Merlin's face almost as quickly as it had appeared.
"I guess this nightmare thing's a bit of an issue with you, isn't it?" he joked feebly, his expression strained.
Arty didn't answer, though he appreciated the attempt at normalcy. Shivering, the cold rain blew hard against his back and Merlin jerked his head toward the stairs, standing.
"Come on, let's get back to the cabin. Wouldn't want you freezing your royal behind off when we’re so close to Paris."
He nodded, following him inside, his thoughts on the woman with the pale blue eyes that now seemed almost red in memory.
Part Seven
Translations (for those that want them):
Gemǣlan - (Old English) dream