Merlin - Realms [Part 2]
Title: Realms
Genre: pre-slash: Arthur/Merlin, tiny bit of het: Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: R for violence
Length: ~45,000 words - Complete
Spoilers: Through Series 2, AU after the end of Series 2
Warnings: Violence, death of minor original characters
Synopsis: A portal has opened in Gaius’ rooms between Merlin’s realm and one very much like it, only on the other side magic was never banned and can be used freely without pain of death. Needless to say, Merlin has fallen through this portal more than once.
Author’s Notes: OMG, it’s done! Oh-so-many thanks to the awesome threnodyjones for the beta job on this monster, and to all the excellent cheerleaders over at
camelot_fleet for their support as I tried to wrap this up for the Finish-a-thon. This ended up far longer than originally intended, but tells the tale I wanted to get out, so I hope people are willing to give it a chance.
Secondary Notes: Suaimhneas = Irish for quiet, peaceful.
Synopsis: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Live Journal Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Dreamwidth Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
“Master Emrys!” he exclaimed, hand outreached to catch Merlin as he tripped over his own feet in surprise.
That surprise turned to exasperation as he was suddenly pulled behind James, dangerously close to the portal, and the knight crouched down into an attack stance. Merlin looked up and could have slapped himself as he remembered Arthur had followed him down the corridor, likely to ensure he did not fall over asleep in the middle of two realities on his way to bed. The last thing he had said was something along the lines of sending Merlin to the dungeons themselves if he even tried to get up before midday.
Arthur stood there now, his own sword extended as he had armed himself early into the previous evening’s debacle. “Release him now,” he warned, and took a menacing step forward.
“I do not recognise you nor your authority,” James advised.
“And I do not recognise you as a knight of Camelot,” Arthur countered, shifting his stance ever so slightly. Merlin knew from long experience that this meant he was readying himself for the offensive if necessary.
“Are your knights always so arrogant and unprotected?” James asked Merlin over his shoulder.
“Are you so dim as to think wearing the armour of the realm will protect you from me?” Arthur responded. Merlin admitted it was a valid question as he had seen the prince take on large groups of well-armed and armoured men with nothing but a sword and live to tell the tale. Then again, Merlin himself had usually been surreptitiously helping during those times, and really did not think he could actively harm James given the whole having saved his life factor, so it was possible the whole thing would end in a draw.
He shook himself and tried to push away the exhaustion and focus on the now. As in ending the now and not letting it continue, draw or no. He held up a hesitant hand and tried, “James?”
“You will be safe, Master Emrys, I will make certain of that,” James promised, eyes never leaving what he perceived as his target and threat.
“Yes, I know I will,” Merlin told him, actively trying to ignore the look Arthur had given him at the title. “He is of no threat to me, not really,” he explained.
James shook his head. “I heard him threaten you with the dungeons, sir,” he pointed out.
Now it was Merlin’s turn to sigh. “That was if I did not get some sleep and meant as a joke, I think. Usually he’d threaten me with the stocks, but it’s so hard to sleep standing up.” He tried for levity, and then remembered James rarely had any, especially when preparing for battle.
“And just who does he think he is that he can threaten you with such things?” James demanded.
Arthur looked at the knight as though he had grown two heads. “I’m Arthur Pendragon, the bloody Crown Prince! I could have him flogged if I didn’t like the colour of his shirt or if he spilt wine on mine yet again; sending him to bed is hardly going to kill him!”
Arthur looked as though he was just building up steam, but was as observant as always and noticed the way James’ blade faltered and his mouth hung open like a guppy at the same time Merlin was able to push past him and notice the same. A motion from Merlin and Arthur lowered his blade as well, though he kept it in a ready position, and Merlin crept around to stand fully in front of the shocked knight, much to Arthur’s chagrin.
“James?” Merlin tried to get his attention. He waved his hands to show once again he was unarmed. “We had this conversation, remember? Things are different here.”
“Get back from there, Merlin,” Arthur ordered in a huff. When Merlin did not immediately move, He grabbed his shoulder and hauled him away by force.
“Let him go!” James ordered, blade back in place. He looked every bit the warrior, ready to take on anything and anyone to complete the mission given to him, despite some truly jolting surprises. The fact his mission was Merlin, something Merlin himself could use to his benefit, was reiterated by him asked, “Are you uninjured, Master Emrys?”
“I am fine,” Merlin insisted, ignoring the way Arthur made a face at the man and his apparent obsession with Merlin’s newfound title. “And before this truly gets out of hand, I ask that you lower your weapon and let us talk this out like the civilised beings we truly are.”
James’ eyes darted from Merlin to Arthur, then back again. “And this man? This prince? Will he lower his weapon as well?” he questioned.
“I certainly will not!” Arthur protested. He visibly flinched and jerked the blade away when Merlin reached out and lowered it with his bare hand. “What are you trying to do, cut off your blasted fingers?” he demanded.
Merlin turned so his attention was solely on his prince and not on his supposed saviour. “This is James, a knight from the other realm,” he explained. “He does not know who you are any more than you know who he is. I told you things were similar there, but this is one of the differences. Please lower your weapon so that we can hear his message with a little less bloodshed and a little more concentration, yeah?” he tried.
Arthur reluctantly sheathed his sword and muttered something about being able to get to it faster than the ponce before him anyway, but Merlin ignored all that and turned to James instead. “What brings you to this side?” he asked, then added as an afterthought, “And for the sake of your deity, put that thing away.”
James nodded at the order and dutifully tucked his sword away. “You did not respond, so we grew concerned for your well-being,” he replied, head bowed but voice full of more than just professional concern.
“Reply?” Merlin rubbed his forehead and tried to get his tired mind to focus. Then he saw it: the scroll case still sitting opened upon the table. “Oh!” he exclaimed in understanding. “You mean to Mo-, er, her message! We had a bit of an emergency and I was unable to send it back through.”
“Emergency?” James questioned and Merlin could tell he was still in full protective mode. The fact he kept glaring in Arthur’s direction was further proof of that.
“Poison applied to armour and such. We believe it may have been an assassination attempt,” Merlin explained. He wandered further into the room and sat down heavily in the padded rocking chair beside the hearth. He was far too exhausted to be dealing with this right now. He was also far too exhausted to deal with the look Arthur gave him for spilling supposed secrets or some other such nonsense.
He briefly wondered if it was safe to leave those two at it without him standing between them as a shield, but found they had both reluctantly come closer to where he sat, Arthur closing the door behind him when he could have just as easily called for guards.
“What kind of poison?” James asked just as Arthur said, “They’d really send someone for not replying to a scroll? What if we’d been out hunting or such?”
“Two journeys through the portal in such short succession? We gave him time to sleep off the effects, but he still did not reply,” James explained.
“Didn’t sleep and didn’t reply,” Merlin yawned. Arthur slid the footstool over in his direction with a quick kick and Merlin nodded his thanks as he propped up his feet.
“You’ll make yourself ill again,” James chided. He knelt down beside the fire and threw on a few more logs, easily building it up again.
Merlin shook his head. “That involved far more magic and attacks and life threatening conditions than I hope this does,” he reminded him. He hoped Arthur thought he meant magic directed at him and not magic performed by him, and tried to think up a way to make it seem like that when prince himself cleared his throat.
“Do I even want to know what went on over there?” Arthur asked. He grabbed one of the benches for himself, but Merlin noticed that he sat in a way to give him easy access to his weapon.
“Probably not,” Merlin confirmed. His eyes started to drift closed and he had to actively try to keep them open. “Most of it would be against your father’s laws and the rest of it was just plain scary.”
James chuffed out a laugh at that and pulled up a stool for himself, mirroring Arthur’s position. “More than one knight requested a talisman after that battle. I think Noel still sleeps with his.” He gestured towards a slightly bewildered looking Arthur and asked, “Is this man truly the prince, son of the king you spoke of?”
Merlin nodded. “James of Suffolk, please meet Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot.”
James bowed from his seated position and raised a dark eyebrow at the supposed royalty. “You will have to forgive my disbelief, sire, but you simply do not exist in my realm. However, I can say with some certainty that I know quite a few people who would love to meet you.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man nearly identical in size and age to himself, but with far darker features and a thin scar that was visible down the right side of his neck. “I knew a James from Suffolk when I first took over training the knights. He was a good man, had a brother Arivan who serves me still, but he died in what should have been a simple patrol exercise long before Merlin ever set foot in Camelot.”
James eyes widened only slightly. “My brother was injured in the last battle, and not yet able to return to his duties,” he confirmed. He ran a gloved finger down the scar on his neck and said, “This nearly did me in, but we were lucky enough to have a healer with us who was able to save me with his Gifts.”
Merlin knew what that meant. Anytime anyone from the other realm referred to Gifts, they usually meant of the magical nature. James from that realm got lucky; the James here did not have such fortune on his side.
The fire was warm and the chair very comfortable and he was quite thoroughly tired, so he found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the conversation when it turned back to the poison and the attempt on Arthur’s life. “It doesn’t make sense,” Arthur admitted. “It is too random. Any knight could have touched these pieces, or a squire even. If it was an assassination attempt, it was a poor one. The only possible outcome would be chaos and fear of the seemingly random deaths.”
“Perhaps that is what they were after?” James suggested. Merlin prised open one eye to take in the expected look of disbelief on Arthur’s features. He was not disappointed. He was also not surprised when James held up a gloved hand and continued, “Chaos and fear and weakening of the ranks, even if it was not in a prescribed order, would still have a detrimental effect on the men. Had this happened in my realm, I would have increased the border patrols as it would be likely someone was readying a more direct attack while we were still flailing about.”
Arthur looked like he was considering James’ words, but was not quite sure if he could trust his point of view. “He’s First Knight over there,” Merlin threw in on the off chance that helped change Arthur’s mind.
“What happened to Leon?” Arthur asked in surprise.
“Who is Leon?” James rejoined.
Merlin was not certain if he was asking Arthur or himself, so he supplied, “Earl of Sussex’s son. The one I told you would make a great addition to your knights. Did he ever come visit?”
James shook his head. “His father has taken ill and he has taken charge of his estates. I have yet to meet the man but, if he is as you say, at the very least there will be a strong presence on that border.”
“He’s a good man with natural talents with the sword and mace and I really cannot believe I am having this conversation,” Arthur mused, shaking his head. “I don’t even know who you are, and you appear so soon after an attack and here I am having a conversation with you as though we are simply stopping for tea.”
“I could make some tea for you,” Merlin suggested just to get a reluctant grin out of him.
Arthur threw a small satchel of something from the table at him and it bounced harmlessly off his chest before it landed in his lap. He recognised it as a bit of lavender he had picked and stripped the day before and tucked it behind his head like a pillow, inhaling the soft scent as he made a show of recrossing his legs on the footstool and settling back in the chair.
James simply raised an eyebrow at the show before he returned to business and asked, “What can you tell me about the properties of this poison?”
Arthur shrugged and admitted, “Not much, I’m afraid. Gaius has not yet run all of his tests, so all we know at this time is that it is extremely effective.”
“If you can spare a sample, I can take it back to my realm and see if our people can make anything of it,” James offered.
“Your magicians and sorcerers, you mean,” Arthur corrected, just a bit of heat to his tone.
“Not everyone has the Gift, but it has proved incredibly useful for our needs,” James defended his people. “It’s also possible that the poison itself is magical in origin, especially if so many have a vendetta against your crown. Our court sorcerers may be able to find a cure or treatment that would not be available here.”
“You seem pretty eager to get your hands on this poison,” Arthur pointed out, and Merlin feared the conversation was about to take a turn for the worse.
“Only to help,” James insisted.
“You expect me to willingly turn over a weapon used against us to a group of sorcerers to do with as they please?” Arthur asked, giving more than a hint of his point of view on the issue. “You claim you wish to help, but I do not know you nor do I have any reason to put my trust in anyone who sides with magic.”
Merlin’s eyes shot open at that, just in time to see the look James shot him. “Told you. Magic is not considered an asset here; it’s considered more of a ‘punishable by death’ thing instead.” He hoped James got the unspoken message and would remember to keep his secret.
It seemed to be enough and James offered him a slight nod that did not go missed by Arthur before offering his view of the situation. “Where I stand, a threat to the crown has been made. It may be your crown instead of the crown of my realm, but Camelot has been threatened. Given the similarities between this realm and my own, there is a possibility that something similar may happen there and I cannot allow it. I take any threat seriously, and would be surprised if you did not do the same in my stead.”
Arthur seemed to think about that for a moment. He sighed reluctantly and reached into the pouch at his side to remove a small cloth bundle. Inside, Merlin knew, laid the buckle with the green residue still upon it. Arthur tossed it to James, who caught it easily. “Gaius has enough to run more tests already,” he explained. “If not, I am certain we will find even more tainted weapons before long.”
James inclined his head slightly at the capitulation. “I can send it through the portal now, and hopefully we can find a cure, if not a source,” he offered.
Merlin suspected James intended to send only the poisoned piece, something that was reinforced as he reached for a quill and some parchment. “You need to go with it, James,” he told him. He could see the knight’s protective nature start to rise and explained, “You need to go and explain what is going on. She will be less likely to send others with a personal report versus some parchment and poison and you know it. Besides, there is nothing you could do here other than hide, and what good would that do?”
“I could protect you, and this prince you are so keen to look out for,” James offered.
Arthur shook his head. “We are on high alert. Any face not recognised will be met with suspicion, especially one pretending to pose as a knight and using the name of someone fallen years before.”
“But who will look after Master Emrys?” James questioned. Merlin tried not to roll his eyes, but knew the knight suspected his exasperation anyway, as well as his wish not to reveal anything beyond the normal duties of a servant and physician’s assistant. At least James was quick of mind as he added, “If the physician and his assistant are known to be researching the poison, then their lives may be at risk.”
“I will assign a guard to Gaius, someone I trust implicitly,” Arthur promised. “And, as for Master Emrys,” he paused as if simply the use of the name delighted him and Merlin feared he would never live this down. “Merlin is to do no more than sleep until midday at the earliest. I can lock this room and assign a guard if need be. You have my word that he will be safe. Well, as safe as Merlin can ever be, that is.”
James seemed doubtful, but accepted Merlin’s promise as much, if not more so, than that of the prince. He insisted on seeing Merlin to his room, something Arthur agreed with as he made disparaging comments about Merlin falling through the portal once more, and tucked a small talisman into Merlin’s hand as he pretended to catch him upon the short set of steps. “It will protect you more than any prince,” he whispered.
“James...” Merlin chided. He did not want to go into the whole magic being banned and how he could be killed if caught with such a thing, especially when there was a magical poison-wielding assassin on the loose.
“Your talents may be many, but even you need protection in your sleep, especially if you are not allowed to cast the shielding spell,” James told him.
Merlin sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and tucked the charm on its cord beneath his scarf. He kicked off his boots and pulled his thin blanket up to his shoulders, not even bothering to change into sleeping clothes as he was simply too exhausted to do much more. “Night, James,” he yawned.
“Good day, Master Emrys,” James corrected. The knight looked around the small room with more than a hint of distaste, but Merlin ignored the implication that he lived in a hovel. The grand rooms he had been gifted with on the other side were nice, but far too fine for his liking. He was afraid of touching anything for fear of breaking it or getting it dirty, versus here was simply home. Basic, simple, small, and cosy home.
Merlin listened to a hushed final conversation between Arthur and the knight, and felt the portal surge as James returned home. He could not keep his eyes open any more as he heard Arthur check in on him one last time, and then a key turn in the lock to the main door. It was ridiculous, this need of theirs to protect him, and he would tell them both as much just as soon as he could stay awake long enough to do so.
He next awoke to the sound of a key in a lock again and the burning sensation of the talisman upon his chest. It was not glowing or creating a shield or anything like that, just warning him than another being was approaching and he should be aware. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced up at the window to see that the light was slanting in a way that indicated it was a fair deal past midday, a fact his stomach chose to reinforce by choosing that moment to rumble as well.
“It seems I got here just in time,” Gwen teased as she carried a small tray up the steps to his room. The smells of stew and fresh bread filled the tiny area and he could not help but lick his lips in anticipation.
He remembered himself though, and the manners his mother taught him, and insisted, “You did not need to bring me anything Gwen, that’s not fair to you.”
Gwen shook her head, a few curls falling loose as she set the tray down on the small table beside his bed. “Arthur did not want me returning to my home, he said I would be putting myself at risk and making another target, and I have nearly nothing else to do with Morgana still missing, so this will at least keep me busy for a little while.”
“It is much appreciated,” Merlin told her, torn between being polite and reaching for the delicious smelling creations she had on offer.
“Oh, eat already!” she laughed, lifting the lid to reveal the thick and hearty stew. It was better fare than the servants usually received, and was still piping hot, which meant it was dished purposefully for him and was not leftover from a noble’s meal. “Arthur insisted,” she answered his unvoiced question. “He said you were up half the night chasing after the assassin and likely would need something more than bread and fruit to make up for it.”
Merlin was not about to argue with that. He dug in and savoured the taste upon his tongue, scooping up more perhaps a bit quicker than was strictly healthy, and only slowing when Gwen pushed a mug of tea into his hands and patted him on the back while he coughed sheepishly. She told him about the events of the morning, which were not much, unfortunately. They were no closer to finding the potential assassin, though they did find more of the green residue around a cask of ale, leading to its demise and some very sorrowful knights.
She carried his dishes away, and he watched to make certain she avoided the portal even though she had obviously already done so on the way in and he knew she was intelligent enough to avoid anything so obvious and odd. She did not question the line drawn about the floor, but dutifully stepped to the side as directed, likely believing Merlin and Gaius had some experiment in place that she best know nothing about.
Once she left, he heard the lock on the door once more and was reminded of the fact he was supposed to be looking for a way to close the portal as much as a way to fight the poison. He figured one precluded the other, and set to washing up instead, taking a cloth and water from the basin and scrubbing over his face and neck before changing into a clean tunic for the day. He had no sample of the poison as Gaius had everything save for what Arthur gave James, so he was not certain what he was supposed to do for the day.
He was about to either ask the guard to find Arthur, or simply attempt to leave to find him himself, when he heard the prince in question in the hallway. Arthur dismissed the guard after explaining Merlin should now be coherent enough to figure out how to lock the door on his own and that they likely did not need extra people around while he and Gaius played about with the poison.
Merlin was about to question the intelligence of the guard given that Arthur did not usually explain himself quite so much, and Gaius had set up a lab in the armoury to test as many pieces as possible prior to allowing any knight to touch anything, but Arthur chose that moment to enter, so Merlin withheld his doubts for the time being.
The door had barely closed when Arthur demanded, “Did you find anything?”
Merlin looked at him incredulously. “I just woke up!” he protested. “I could hardly research anything in my sleep.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Arthur pointed out. With a smirk, he added, “Who knows? Maybe your unconscious mind is less addled than you conscious one anyway.”
Merlin settled for glaring at him while he made certain his habitual scarf was tied in a way to hide the talisman he still wore. “There’s nothing from James yet either,” he pointed out.
Arthur eyed the portal warily. “Can you trust him? Or, more accurately, do you trust him?” he asked. Merlin noted the distinction with interest.
“He saved my life, more than once,” Merlin replied.
Arthur nodded, but pursed his lips. “It’s just... if he fears no magic...”
Merlin held up a hand to stop that line of thought, knowing it was the crux the problem. “He fears magic,” he insisted. “He’d have to after everything he’s seen. It’s just, well, he knows it has a use for good as well as evil.”
Arthur scoffed. “I have yet to see any evidence that magic can ever be good.”
Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened them, he found Arthur watching him curiously. “I’ve seen magic do far more good than a sword or the best of Gaius’ herbs,” Merlin insisted. Realizing he was perhaps a little overzealous in his tone, he forced himself to shrug and add, “So it can’t be all bad, yeah?”
Arthur shook his head and started to absently flip through books on the table. “Well, maybe it’s like you said. Things are different there.”
“Something like that,” Merlin muttered before setting about researching both portals and poisons for the day.
They paged through as many books as they could, setting them aside into three distinct categories. The first was anything the might have to do with the poison. The second was anything that might have to do with the portal. The final bunch was what Arthur deemed worthless despite containing priceless tomes with vast repositories of information simply because said information was not useful to them at that particular time.
Merlin grabbed more than one from midair during a careless toss and carefully set it into the designated stack. He hated to think of what Gaius would say about the state of his workroom as it was. Books and scrolls were everywhere, some open, some closed, and some stacked precariously atop each other and far too close to candled braziers for even Merlin’s liking, let alone his mentor’s. This was all, of course, mixed in with platters of food Arthur had brought whenever he had a craving, or possibly got bored. There were a lot of plates, some even still with meats and cheeses.
Arthur leaned against a now empty shelf while Merlin compared a figure sketched on parchment with what Gwen had dropped off as Gaius’ findings thus far. The physician was now sleeping in guest quarters near his makeshift lab, and Merlin envied him despite his own lie in, but had threatened that everything had better be in order when he returned in the morning. Gwen had promised to stop by first thing to help if needed, and reminded Arthur to keep his wine and tea away from the books if at all possible, which they both took to mean by any means necessary.
Arthur had just taken another sip from his goblet, when Merlin felt the surge of portal behind him. Arthur must have sense something as well, as suddenly he was at the edge of the barrier, sword in hand and wine long forgotten. “Is this how it works then? A brief glow to tell you that someone is on his way?” he asked, repositioning himself in front of Merlin.
Merlin used a ribbon to mark his page and looked up at Arthur in surprise. “You can see that? Even Gaius had trouble,” he mused aloud. He also mused as to the possible reasons why, but kept that to himself. Arthur hated to be reminded of his possibly magical beginnings, and Merlin rather needed him focused on the task at hand and not on the past at the moment.
The task at hand was apparently another scroll case being slid through. Arthur glared at it in mistrust, and then turned that same glower in Merlin’s direction when he very calmly picked it up and opened it, not even bothering to check if it was booby trapped. Merlin could feel the familiar warmth Morgana’s magic even through the portal, and knew whatever she sent would be safe.
He opened the seal and quickly scanned the contents, sighing in disappointment when he found that no antidote had been found on that side either, though they had discovered that at least one of the ingredients was magical in origin, so there was that. He dutifully reported his findings to Arthur, who looked as though he was torn between being relieved and displeased. Merlin suspected that it was likely due to Arthur hoping for a magical cure to be hand delivered to put an end to all this, and had to admit it was something he would have rather liked as well.
There was one thing of interest, however. It was minor, and Morgana seemed to have mentioned it solely in passing in her attempt to be forthcoming with anything and everything that could potentially be of aid. The magical ingredient was also referenced in a book of histories as being revered by a group known as “Suaimhneas.” Not much was known about them, save a mention of the Druid legends of a private and cloistered group that wished simply to live as one with nature and to be left alone.
The word reminded Merlin of something he had seen. He resisted the urge to use his magic to locate the reference, and instead rummaged through the stack of parchment and books until he found what he was looking for. There, on a chart of rare and useful herbs, was a drawing of a lily-like plant. Scrawled beneath it were the words, “Source: Suaimhneas.” There was also a little symbol that looked like a stylised version of the plant simplified into near runic form.
“I’ve seen that,” Arthur commented. Merlin was about make a comment of his own regarding the prince’s memory, or lack thereof, when he reached not for the stack full of herb lore and curatives, but for the stack with hints about portals and magical transports instead, only to quell such urges when Arthur placed the text side by side with the parchment and said simply, “Here.”
Merlin looked back and forth at the aged pieces of parchment, and was forced to agree: the symbol was the same, down to the little curve at the end. “But if there is a connection between the plant and the portal...” he started.
“Then we have to question if there is a connection between your little group of friends and the assassin,” Arthur finished for him.
“I was going to say that then we should warn them that the same group could be on both sides, if they are even connected at all,” Merlin argued.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “The likelihood of a magical portal appearing with a pretty little symbol and a magical poison appearing with a pretty little symbol at nearly the same moment in time is rather small, wouldn’t you say?” he huffed. “The similarities are too great; there must be a connection.”
“There are far more similarities between the realms than just a single symbol with possible ties to magic,” Merlin huffed back. “People, places, even the tapestry that hangs in the west wing, all of these are the same. Same enough to know they are not all bad, at least.”
“And yet magic is not banned and I apparently do not exist,” Arthur pointed out. “Something is fundamentally different there. Are you saying that this difference is not enough to make a supposed good turn evil? Or at least some section of that ‘good’ to want to ensure nothing challenges their reign, whether from this realm or their own?”
“I’m saying that I know who I trust on that side, and feel the need to warn them that their lives may also be at risk,” Merlin replied. He pulled on his hair in frustration, trying to think of something that would convince Arthur other than just simply going against his wishes and sending something through. He knew Arthur would be watching him far too closely for that and, unless he wanted to risk using his magic in front of the prince, he needed Arthur to at least contemplate the fact that a land inherently magical was not also inherently evil.
The fact that an understanding Arthur would also be less likely to run through any visitors from the other side with his sword just out of sheer pig-headedness was also a plus.
He bit his lip but quickly released it when it looked like Arthur was about to start up again. He’d probably ask just who it was Merlin was trusting and he’d be forced to say Morgana and he’d be forced to reveal the Morgana on that side was a powerful sorceress which would in turn make Arthur question if the Morgana on this side was a sorceress which would in turn make Arthur wonder just who else might have magic and he’d begin to look at things far too closely and it would all be such a mess. He needed more time to think it over, and that meant he needed a stalling tactic.
He was not quite certain why this particular example came to him, but he blurted out, “Cedric!”
Arthur paused, clearly not expecting that. “Cedric?” he repeated, quite obviously looking for clarification.
Merlin nodded. “The Cedric on this side was a thief who got caught up with something magical, right?” he began, reminding Arthur of long conversations that stressed a lack of jealousy over someone else waiting on him hand and foot and more actual concern for the prince’s well-being. “Well, the Cedric on that side was also a thief.”
“What, and his little bauble formed the portal?” Arthur asked sceptically. “Well done, let’s just jump to conclusions without any evidence and, no, wait, that still does not convince me that people on that side are good, so what is your point, Merlin?”
Merlin resisted rolling his eyes, but just barely. “The ‘little bauble’ as you called it made all sorts of bad things happen: giant beasts, mass destruction, things like that. He tried the same on that side, only it got the better of him.”
“Still don’t see how this is supposed to convince me that side is good,” Arthur pointed out.
Merlin waved his hand to try to get him to shut up long enough to finish, then had to check that he did not actually cast a spell and was not going to be put to death for it when Arthur miraculously complied. From the look on his face though, he was tempted to smack him for daring to command a sovereign or some such thing, so Merlin rushed to continue, “The people that I want to warn, people who are as loyal to Camelot there as their counterparts are here, allowed magic to save the castle and save lives. Only one knight was injured and, even then, magic healed him. They did not give in to that power, they protected their people, and Camelot lives on. How bad can they be?”
“That’s the problem, Merlin, I don’t know!” Arthur shouted back. He started to pace and kicked a fallen parchment that was hopefully not life-changing or valuable out of his way in his frustration. He looked up and over to Merlin, indecision in his eyes. “I don’t know the people there. I don’t know if they are good or evil, if they want to help us or kill us all. I know that my people here are at risk and that a possible connection has been found between that risk and the people I know nothing about. My father would say to let them die, let them burn for their magic, but...”
“But you are not your father,” Merlin finished quietly. He did not know if it was a statement of fact or a plea or a hope for something better, but he felt it needed to be said. “There are people there who saved my life. You met one of them yourself. All I ask for is a chance to repay that favour by way of a simple warning.” Arthur’s jaw was tensing and releasing and Merlin knew he was close to capitulating, so he asked, “Do you trust me?”
The tension released fully, even his shoulder sagging as he said, “God help me, but yes, I do.”
“Then let me send the message,” Merlin tried.
“And if it’s a trap to see if you have figured it out and they send someone through to kill us all in our sleep?” Arthur asked.
“Then you have your answer and can tell me ‘I told you so’ as much as you want,” Merlin shrugged. With an impish grin, he added, “Of course, we’ll all be dead so it won’t be that much, unless they can make the dead talk and wouldn’t that be useful?”
“Not if they were as addled-brained as you,” Arthur muttered, but there was no heat to his tone. Louder, and far more sure of himself, he ordered, “There will be guards posted outside this door any time I leave. Anyone or anything comes through that portal will have to face either them or myself before they can do harm to the castle as a whole.”
Merlin nodded and silently added that they would have to get through him as well and he thought he may be a bit better suited to the task of taking down deranged sorcerers than Kerin the baker’s son who was just promoted to the position. That thought was neither her nor there at the moment though as he doubted anyone could get through all the wards Morgana had placed on the castle, battle her guards to find the portal room, and slip through without some advance warning, but he thought Arthur could use the reassurance as it was still a big step for him to risk trusting anything remotely related to being magical at all.
He searched around and found one of Gaius’ old quills and a pot of ink that was hopefully not too dried out. A bit more digging and he found some parchment that was actually clean and unused. It was far from the smooth velum Morgana had sent, and he knew his penmanship would be far from as refined as well, but also knew she was used to reading his scrawl by now.
He had just cleared off a space on the table to lay out his findings and begin his letter when he heard Arthur scuffing his feet and being petulant and basically trying to draw his attention without seeming like he was drawing his attention. Merlin looked up to find him, as expected, leaning against the bookcase poking at some random binding. He stared, knowing he was being watched in return, and waited as patiently as he could knowing Morgana was likely waiting with just as much impatience on the other side.
“Who is this person, Merlin?” Arthur finally asked.
He trusted Merlin’s word; he was letting him pen the missive, but clearly his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Unfortunately, that curiosity would not be sated, at least not any time soon. “I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you,” Merlin replied.
“Is it someone I know? From this realm? Someone I trust?” Arthur continued, undeterred.
Merlin sighed and put the quill down he had only just picked up, hoping it would not leave a blot on the page. “It is someone you would recognise; I have already told you this.”
“But would I trust this person?” Arthur pressed on.
Merlin paused before answering. Arthur trusted the Morgana of this world, though Merlin himself had good reason not to. He could not be positive that, with what Merlin knew of this realm’s Morgana plus the knowledge that she openly used magic in the other realm, Arthur would trust her word. Then again, he knew neither. In Arthur’s mind, Morgana was his surrogate sister, a ward taken in by his father who needed to be protected despite her best and most vehement protests. Knowing he likely did not fully keep the reluctance from his tone, Merlin answered, “I believe you trust the version of this person who resides in this realm.”
Arthur pondered that for a moment, thumb to his lip, before he asked, “Is it you?”
That was not what Merlin was expecting. He managed a squawked, “What?” in reply and fumbled the quill he had just picked up again, leaving more than a slight smear of ink behind.
“Is the person you are writing to yourself?” Arthur repeated. “Is it the other you, the you from that realm? You said ‘she’ before, but you could be attempting to mislead me or it is possible someone else is working for the other you.”
“Yes, Arthur, I am writing to myself,” Merlin said, disbelievingly. He shook his head before Arthur could cut in again. “Why would I hide that from you?”
“I won’t hold it against you if the other you happened to be cursed with magic, you know. Both you and that James repeatedly tried to convince me things are quite different there,” Arthur pointed out. “I don’t quite fully believe you regarding these differences, and likely will not until I can see it with my own eyes, but would like to place a name and possibly a face to this mysterious person I am supposed to blindly trust. I trust you, relatively so, and would extend that trust conditionally to the other you as well, at least until proven otherwise.”
The fact that Arthur claimed to trust him warmed Merlin’s heart. The fact he was so clearly wrong with his guess made Merlin want to laugh. The fact that he used the phrase “cursed with magic” made Merlin squirm, so he called the others a wash and replied simply, “It is not me, I can promise you that much.”
Arthur frowned as though disappointed by this knowledge. “Have you met the other you there? Perhaps if you can spot the differences between yourself and him, it will give us, and by us I mean me, something to go off of as to how the people there stack up against the people here.”
Merlin saw a glimmer of hope in his gaze, and knew Arthur wanted a reason to trust, wanted a reason to believe that this was actually a safe option, that he needed to go against a lifetime of being taught magic was evil as was anyone remotely associated with it, that he could trust a poor servant and not the word of his king or his advisors on this matter. Unfortunately, Merlin did not have the means to give him this reassurance at this time. He knew it was safe, but had no way of convincing Arthur of this fact. He could lie, say there was another man identical to him on the other side who promised him so many splendid things and they all come true, but Merlin felt that rather went against that whole trust thing that was being offered and could not bring himself to do so.
Instead, Merlin answered honestly, “There is no me on the other side, just as there is no you. Some things are different, and we happen to be two of the most obvious of these changes.”
Arthur looked crestfallen, but Merlin knew he appreciated the honesty. “Write your letter, send it through,” he ordered, words clipped and precise and clearly showing his emotions. “But I would feel much better if you were not sleeping alone here at night with that thing active.”
“Gaius-” Merlin started to say, but was cut off.
“Is no match for an armed assassin or a doorway to a magical realm,” Arthur finished for him. He tone broke no argument on that matter. “He will keep his room on the other side of the castle until this is sorted out.”
“The guards?” Merlin tried.
“He will have guards assigned to him there just as this room shall this evening as well,” Arthur said either not getting it or being purposefully dense. “This door will be locked and no one in or out without my approval until morning.”
Merlin slammed the quill down on the table, the little pot of ink teetering dangerously at the action. “And just where am I supposed to sleep, the stables?” he fumed. His little corner room was not much, but it was his and it was home and he’d be damned if he was going to leave it for a night full of horse manure.
Arthur simply rolled his eyes. “A cot can be made up for you in the antechamber of my rooms,” he explained as if he had not just happily taken away all of Merlin’s privacy. “It’s far safer and likely just as comfortable as that hovel of yours.”
“I don’t want a cot, I want my bed!” Merlin replied. “Not to mention a door with a means to shut you out. Anyway, what if another package comes through? Or James? We would have no way of knowing until far past whatever deadlines they set, or at least until after the guards attacked James when they heard him mucking about in here. And don’t say they would not - an assassin loose in the castle and an unknown man in knight’s garb appears in a locked room full of poisons? They’d attack, he’d attack, there would be a whole thing of attacking and quite possibly bloodshed, all because you won’t let me do something I have already been doing for weeks!”
He had, quite possibly, used a less than respectful tone with someone who could have him in chains at a moment’s notice and technically owned the entire castle - his little so-called hovel included, but he was quite fed up of Arthur’s pigheadedness and simply making assumptions about what was best when he did not have all the facts at hand to base that decision off of in the first place. It was not until he had to consciously get his breathing under control that he realised just how worked up he had gotten, and he winced inwardly in anticipation of Arthur’s response.
A response which was, once again, not quite what he was expecting. “That was quite dramatic, really,” Arthur said dryly. “One might even say melodramatic, even.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and smirked at Merlin’s answering frown. “You did raise a fair point, however. Should James come through again, he will likely be caught and I am assuming the other side would not be pleased with the prospect of losing what you claim to be their First Knight, nor would I be pleased with trying to convince my father why he should not simply behead him and be done with it. I cannot stay here myself to ensure your safety as that would look quite suspicious. The only solution is to lock you in again until I retrieve you in the morning.”
Merlin nodded in agreement, even though he felt a bit like one of the royal hounds being kennelled for the night. Then again, he had seen the kennels and they were often times less draughty than his own quarters come winter, so maybe he should not mind the comparison quite so much.
Arthur stayed quiet long enough after that for Merlin to finish writing, though it was absolutely no surprise when he attempted to read over Merlin’s shoulder as to just who the thing was addressed to, frowning when he found no such thing. The parchment was to be placed back into Morgana’s scroll case and sent back through, it would not take a genius on the other side to figure out just who should and should not read what was found.
Live Journal Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Dreamwidth Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/342768.html. Current comments
Genre: pre-slash: Arthur/Merlin, tiny bit of het: Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: R for violence
Length: ~45,000 words - Complete
Spoilers: Through Series 2, AU after the end of Series 2
Warnings: Violence, death of minor original characters
Synopsis: A portal has opened in Gaius’ rooms between Merlin’s realm and one very much like it, only on the other side magic was never banned and can be used freely without pain of death. Needless to say, Merlin has fallen through this portal more than once.
Author’s Notes: OMG, it’s done! Oh-so-many thanks to the awesome threnodyjones for the beta job on this monster, and to all the excellent cheerleaders over at
camelot_fleet for their support as I tried to wrap this up for the Finish-a-thon. This ended up far longer than originally intended, but tells the tale I wanted to get out, so I hope people are willing to give it a chance.
Secondary Notes: Suaimhneas = Irish for quiet, peaceful.
Synopsis: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Live Journal Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Dreamwidth Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
“Master Emrys!” he exclaimed, hand outreached to catch Merlin as he tripped over his own feet in surprise.
That surprise turned to exasperation as he was suddenly pulled behind James, dangerously close to the portal, and the knight crouched down into an attack stance. Merlin looked up and could have slapped himself as he remembered Arthur had followed him down the corridor, likely to ensure he did not fall over asleep in the middle of two realities on his way to bed. The last thing he had said was something along the lines of sending Merlin to the dungeons themselves if he even tried to get up before midday.
Arthur stood there now, his own sword extended as he had armed himself early into the previous evening’s debacle. “Release him now,” he warned, and took a menacing step forward.
“I do not recognise you nor your authority,” James advised.
“And I do not recognise you as a knight of Camelot,” Arthur countered, shifting his stance ever so slightly. Merlin knew from long experience that this meant he was readying himself for the offensive if necessary.
“Are your knights always so arrogant and unprotected?” James asked Merlin over his shoulder.
“Are you so dim as to think wearing the armour of the realm will protect you from me?” Arthur responded. Merlin admitted it was a valid question as he had seen the prince take on large groups of well-armed and armoured men with nothing but a sword and live to tell the tale. Then again, Merlin himself had usually been surreptitiously helping during those times, and really did not think he could actively harm James given the whole having saved his life factor, so it was possible the whole thing would end in a draw.
He shook himself and tried to push away the exhaustion and focus on the now. As in ending the now and not letting it continue, draw or no. He held up a hesitant hand and tried, “James?”
“You will be safe, Master Emrys, I will make certain of that,” James promised, eyes never leaving what he perceived as his target and threat.
“Yes, I know I will,” Merlin told him, actively trying to ignore the look Arthur had given him at the title. “He is of no threat to me, not really,” he explained.
James shook his head. “I heard him threaten you with the dungeons, sir,” he pointed out.
Now it was Merlin’s turn to sigh. “That was if I did not get some sleep and meant as a joke, I think. Usually he’d threaten me with the stocks, but it’s so hard to sleep standing up.” He tried for levity, and then remembered James rarely had any, especially when preparing for battle.
“And just who does he think he is that he can threaten you with such things?” James demanded.
Arthur looked at the knight as though he had grown two heads. “I’m Arthur Pendragon, the bloody Crown Prince! I could have him flogged if I didn’t like the colour of his shirt or if he spilt wine on mine yet again; sending him to bed is hardly going to kill him!”
Arthur looked as though he was just building up steam, but was as observant as always and noticed the way James’ blade faltered and his mouth hung open like a guppy at the same time Merlin was able to push past him and notice the same. A motion from Merlin and Arthur lowered his blade as well, though he kept it in a ready position, and Merlin crept around to stand fully in front of the shocked knight, much to Arthur’s chagrin.
“James?” Merlin tried to get his attention. He waved his hands to show once again he was unarmed. “We had this conversation, remember? Things are different here.”
“Get back from there, Merlin,” Arthur ordered in a huff. When Merlin did not immediately move, He grabbed his shoulder and hauled him away by force.
“Let him go!” James ordered, blade back in place. He looked every bit the warrior, ready to take on anything and anyone to complete the mission given to him, despite some truly jolting surprises. The fact his mission was Merlin, something Merlin himself could use to his benefit, was reiterated by him asked, “Are you uninjured, Master Emrys?”
“I am fine,” Merlin insisted, ignoring the way Arthur made a face at the man and his apparent obsession with Merlin’s newfound title. “And before this truly gets out of hand, I ask that you lower your weapon and let us talk this out like the civilised beings we truly are.”
James’ eyes darted from Merlin to Arthur, then back again. “And this man? This prince? Will he lower his weapon as well?” he questioned.
“I certainly will not!” Arthur protested. He visibly flinched and jerked the blade away when Merlin reached out and lowered it with his bare hand. “What are you trying to do, cut off your blasted fingers?” he demanded.
Merlin turned so his attention was solely on his prince and not on his supposed saviour. “This is James, a knight from the other realm,” he explained. “He does not know who you are any more than you know who he is. I told you things were similar there, but this is one of the differences. Please lower your weapon so that we can hear his message with a little less bloodshed and a little more concentration, yeah?” he tried.
Arthur reluctantly sheathed his sword and muttered something about being able to get to it faster than the ponce before him anyway, but Merlin ignored all that and turned to James instead. “What brings you to this side?” he asked, then added as an afterthought, “And for the sake of your deity, put that thing away.”
James nodded at the order and dutifully tucked his sword away. “You did not respond, so we grew concerned for your well-being,” he replied, head bowed but voice full of more than just professional concern.
“Reply?” Merlin rubbed his forehead and tried to get his tired mind to focus. Then he saw it: the scroll case still sitting opened upon the table. “Oh!” he exclaimed in understanding. “You mean to Mo-, er, her message! We had a bit of an emergency and I was unable to send it back through.”
“Emergency?” James questioned and Merlin could tell he was still in full protective mode. The fact he kept glaring in Arthur’s direction was further proof of that.
“Poison applied to armour and such. We believe it may have been an assassination attempt,” Merlin explained. He wandered further into the room and sat down heavily in the padded rocking chair beside the hearth. He was far too exhausted to be dealing with this right now. He was also far too exhausted to deal with the look Arthur gave him for spilling supposed secrets or some other such nonsense.
He briefly wondered if it was safe to leave those two at it without him standing between them as a shield, but found they had both reluctantly come closer to where he sat, Arthur closing the door behind him when he could have just as easily called for guards.
“What kind of poison?” James asked just as Arthur said, “They’d really send someone for not replying to a scroll? What if we’d been out hunting or such?”
“Two journeys through the portal in such short succession? We gave him time to sleep off the effects, but he still did not reply,” James explained.
“Didn’t sleep and didn’t reply,” Merlin yawned. Arthur slid the footstool over in his direction with a quick kick and Merlin nodded his thanks as he propped up his feet.
“You’ll make yourself ill again,” James chided. He knelt down beside the fire and threw on a few more logs, easily building it up again.
Merlin shook his head. “That involved far more magic and attacks and life threatening conditions than I hope this does,” he reminded him. He hoped Arthur thought he meant magic directed at him and not magic performed by him, and tried to think up a way to make it seem like that when prince himself cleared his throat.
“Do I even want to know what went on over there?” Arthur asked. He grabbed one of the benches for himself, but Merlin noticed that he sat in a way to give him easy access to his weapon.
“Probably not,” Merlin confirmed. His eyes started to drift closed and he had to actively try to keep them open. “Most of it would be against your father’s laws and the rest of it was just plain scary.”
James chuffed out a laugh at that and pulled up a stool for himself, mirroring Arthur’s position. “More than one knight requested a talisman after that battle. I think Noel still sleeps with his.” He gestured towards a slightly bewildered looking Arthur and asked, “Is this man truly the prince, son of the king you spoke of?”
Merlin nodded. “James of Suffolk, please meet Arthur Pendragon, Crown Prince of Camelot.”
James bowed from his seated position and raised a dark eyebrow at the supposed royalty. “You will have to forgive my disbelief, sire, but you simply do not exist in my realm. However, I can say with some certainty that I know quite a few people who would love to meet you.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man nearly identical in size and age to himself, but with far darker features and a thin scar that was visible down the right side of his neck. “I knew a James from Suffolk when I first took over training the knights. He was a good man, had a brother Arivan who serves me still, but he died in what should have been a simple patrol exercise long before Merlin ever set foot in Camelot.”
James eyes widened only slightly. “My brother was injured in the last battle, and not yet able to return to his duties,” he confirmed. He ran a gloved finger down the scar on his neck and said, “This nearly did me in, but we were lucky enough to have a healer with us who was able to save me with his Gifts.”
Merlin knew what that meant. Anytime anyone from the other realm referred to Gifts, they usually meant of the magical nature. James from that realm got lucky; the James here did not have such fortune on his side.
The fire was warm and the chair very comfortable and he was quite thoroughly tired, so he found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the conversation when it turned back to the poison and the attempt on Arthur’s life. “It doesn’t make sense,” Arthur admitted. “It is too random. Any knight could have touched these pieces, or a squire even. If it was an assassination attempt, it was a poor one. The only possible outcome would be chaos and fear of the seemingly random deaths.”
“Perhaps that is what they were after?” James suggested. Merlin prised open one eye to take in the expected look of disbelief on Arthur’s features. He was not disappointed. He was also not surprised when James held up a gloved hand and continued, “Chaos and fear and weakening of the ranks, even if it was not in a prescribed order, would still have a detrimental effect on the men. Had this happened in my realm, I would have increased the border patrols as it would be likely someone was readying a more direct attack while we were still flailing about.”
Arthur looked like he was considering James’ words, but was not quite sure if he could trust his point of view. “He’s First Knight over there,” Merlin threw in on the off chance that helped change Arthur’s mind.
“What happened to Leon?” Arthur asked in surprise.
“Who is Leon?” James rejoined.
Merlin was not certain if he was asking Arthur or himself, so he supplied, “Earl of Sussex’s son. The one I told you would make a great addition to your knights. Did he ever come visit?”
James shook his head. “His father has taken ill and he has taken charge of his estates. I have yet to meet the man but, if he is as you say, at the very least there will be a strong presence on that border.”
“He’s a good man with natural talents with the sword and mace and I really cannot believe I am having this conversation,” Arthur mused, shaking his head. “I don’t even know who you are, and you appear so soon after an attack and here I am having a conversation with you as though we are simply stopping for tea.”
“I could make some tea for you,” Merlin suggested just to get a reluctant grin out of him.
Arthur threw a small satchel of something from the table at him and it bounced harmlessly off his chest before it landed in his lap. He recognised it as a bit of lavender he had picked and stripped the day before and tucked it behind his head like a pillow, inhaling the soft scent as he made a show of recrossing his legs on the footstool and settling back in the chair.
James simply raised an eyebrow at the show before he returned to business and asked, “What can you tell me about the properties of this poison?”
Arthur shrugged and admitted, “Not much, I’m afraid. Gaius has not yet run all of his tests, so all we know at this time is that it is extremely effective.”
“If you can spare a sample, I can take it back to my realm and see if our people can make anything of it,” James offered.
“Your magicians and sorcerers, you mean,” Arthur corrected, just a bit of heat to his tone.
“Not everyone has the Gift, but it has proved incredibly useful for our needs,” James defended his people. “It’s also possible that the poison itself is magical in origin, especially if so many have a vendetta against your crown. Our court sorcerers may be able to find a cure or treatment that would not be available here.”
“You seem pretty eager to get your hands on this poison,” Arthur pointed out, and Merlin feared the conversation was about to take a turn for the worse.
“Only to help,” James insisted.
“You expect me to willingly turn over a weapon used against us to a group of sorcerers to do with as they please?” Arthur asked, giving more than a hint of his point of view on the issue. “You claim you wish to help, but I do not know you nor do I have any reason to put my trust in anyone who sides with magic.”
Merlin’s eyes shot open at that, just in time to see the look James shot him. “Told you. Magic is not considered an asset here; it’s considered more of a ‘punishable by death’ thing instead.” He hoped James got the unspoken message and would remember to keep his secret.
It seemed to be enough and James offered him a slight nod that did not go missed by Arthur before offering his view of the situation. “Where I stand, a threat to the crown has been made. It may be your crown instead of the crown of my realm, but Camelot has been threatened. Given the similarities between this realm and my own, there is a possibility that something similar may happen there and I cannot allow it. I take any threat seriously, and would be surprised if you did not do the same in my stead.”
Arthur seemed to think about that for a moment. He sighed reluctantly and reached into the pouch at his side to remove a small cloth bundle. Inside, Merlin knew, laid the buckle with the green residue still upon it. Arthur tossed it to James, who caught it easily. “Gaius has enough to run more tests already,” he explained. “If not, I am certain we will find even more tainted weapons before long.”
James inclined his head slightly at the capitulation. “I can send it through the portal now, and hopefully we can find a cure, if not a source,” he offered.
Merlin suspected James intended to send only the poisoned piece, something that was reinforced as he reached for a quill and some parchment. “You need to go with it, James,” he told him. He could see the knight’s protective nature start to rise and explained, “You need to go and explain what is going on. She will be less likely to send others with a personal report versus some parchment and poison and you know it. Besides, there is nothing you could do here other than hide, and what good would that do?”
“I could protect you, and this prince you are so keen to look out for,” James offered.
Arthur shook his head. “We are on high alert. Any face not recognised will be met with suspicion, especially one pretending to pose as a knight and using the name of someone fallen years before.”
“But who will look after Master Emrys?” James questioned. Merlin tried not to roll his eyes, but knew the knight suspected his exasperation anyway, as well as his wish not to reveal anything beyond the normal duties of a servant and physician’s assistant. At least James was quick of mind as he added, “If the physician and his assistant are known to be researching the poison, then their lives may be at risk.”
“I will assign a guard to Gaius, someone I trust implicitly,” Arthur promised. “And, as for Master Emrys,” he paused as if simply the use of the name delighted him and Merlin feared he would never live this down. “Merlin is to do no more than sleep until midday at the earliest. I can lock this room and assign a guard if need be. You have my word that he will be safe. Well, as safe as Merlin can ever be, that is.”
James seemed doubtful, but accepted Merlin’s promise as much, if not more so, than that of the prince. He insisted on seeing Merlin to his room, something Arthur agreed with as he made disparaging comments about Merlin falling through the portal once more, and tucked a small talisman into Merlin’s hand as he pretended to catch him upon the short set of steps. “It will protect you more than any prince,” he whispered.
“James...” Merlin chided. He did not want to go into the whole magic being banned and how he could be killed if caught with such a thing, especially when there was a magical poison-wielding assassin on the loose.
“Your talents may be many, but even you need protection in your sleep, especially if you are not allowed to cast the shielding spell,” James told him.
Merlin sighed for what felt like the hundredth time and tucked the charm on its cord beneath his scarf. He kicked off his boots and pulled his thin blanket up to his shoulders, not even bothering to change into sleeping clothes as he was simply too exhausted to do much more. “Night, James,” he yawned.
“Good day, Master Emrys,” James corrected. The knight looked around the small room with more than a hint of distaste, but Merlin ignored the implication that he lived in a hovel. The grand rooms he had been gifted with on the other side were nice, but far too fine for his liking. He was afraid of touching anything for fear of breaking it or getting it dirty, versus here was simply home. Basic, simple, small, and cosy home.
Merlin listened to a hushed final conversation between Arthur and the knight, and felt the portal surge as James returned home. He could not keep his eyes open any more as he heard Arthur check in on him one last time, and then a key turn in the lock to the main door. It was ridiculous, this need of theirs to protect him, and he would tell them both as much just as soon as he could stay awake long enough to do so.
He next awoke to the sound of a key in a lock again and the burning sensation of the talisman upon his chest. It was not glowing or creating a shield or anything like that, just warning him than another being was approaching and he should be aware. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced up at the window to see that the light was slanting in a way that indicated it was a fair deal past midday, a fact his stomach chose to reinforce by choosing that moment to rumble as well.
“It seems I got here just in time,” Gwen teased as she carried a small tray up the steps to his room. The smells of stew and fresh bread filled the tiny area and he could not help but lick his lips in anticipation.
He remembered himself though, and the manners his mother taught him, and insisted, “You did not need to bring me anything Gwen, that’s not fair to you.”
Gwen shook her head, a few curls falling loose as she set the tray down on the small table beside his bed. “Arthur did not want me returning to my home, he said I would be putting myself at risk and making another target, and I have nearly nothing else to do with Morgana still missing, so this will at least keep me busy for a little while.”
“It is much appreciated,” Merlin told her, torn between being polite and reaching for the delicious smelling creations she had on offer.
“Oh, eat already!” she laughed, lifting the lid to reveal the thick and hearty stew. It was better fare than the servants usually received, and was still piping hot, which meant it was dished purposefully for him and was not leftover from a noble’s meal. “Arthur insisted,” she answered his unvoiced question. “He said you were up half the night chasing after the assassin and likely would need something more than bread and fruit to make up for it.”
Merlin was not about to argue with that. He dug in and savoured the taste upon his tongue, scooping up more perhaps a bit quicker than was strictly healthy, and only slowing when Gwen pushed a mug of tea into his hands and patted him on the back while he coughed sheepishly. She told him about the events of the morning, which were not much, unfortunately. They were no closer to finding the potential assassin, though they did find more of the green residue around a cask of ale, leading to its demise and some very sorrowful knights.
She carried his dishes away, and he watched to make certain she avoided the portal even though she had obviously already done so on the way in and he knew she was intelligent enough to avoid anything so obvious and odd. She did not question the line drawn about the floor, but dutifully stepped to the side as directed, likely believing Merlin and Gaius had some experiment in place that she best know nothing about.
Once she left, he heard the lock on the door once more and was reminded of the fact he was supposed to be looking for a way to close the portal as much as a way to fight the poison. He figured one precluded the other, and set to washing up instead, taking a cloth and water from the basin and scrubbing over his face and neck before changing into a clean tunic for the day. He had no sample of the poison as Gaius had everything save for what Arthur gave James, so he was not certain what he was supposed to do for the day.
He was about to either ask the guard to find Arthur, or simply attempt to leave to find him himself, when he heard the prince in question in the hallway. Arthur dismissed the guard after explaining Merlin should now be coherent enough to figure out how to lock the door on his own and that they likely did not need extra people around while he and Gaius played about with the poison.
Merlin was about to question the intelligence of the guard given that Arthur did not usually explain himself quite so much, and Gaius had set up a lab in the armoury to test as many pieces as possible prior to allowing any knight to touch anything, but Arthur chose that moment to enter, so Merlin withheld his doubts for the time being.
The door had barely closed when Arthur demanded, “Did you find anything?”
Merlin looked at him incredulously. “I just woke up!” he protested. “I could hardly research anything in my sleep.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Arthur pointed out. With a smirk, he added, “Who knows? Maybe your unconscious mind is less addled than you conscious one anyway.”
Merlin settled for glaring at him while he made certain his habitual scarf was tied in a way to hide the talisman he still wore. “There’s nothing from James yet either,” he pointed out.
Arthur eyed the portal warily. “Can you trust him? Or, more accurately, do you trust him?” he asked. Merlin noted the distinction with interest.
“He saved my life, more than once,” Merlin replied.
Arthur nodded, but pursed his lips. “It’s just... if he fears no magic...”
Merlin held up a hand to stop that line of thought, knowing it was the crux the problem. “He fears magic,” he insisted. “He’d have to after everything he’s seen. It’s just, well, he knows it has a use for good as well as evil.”
Arthur scoffed. “I have yet to see any evidence that magic can ever be good.”
Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened them, he found Arthur watching him curiously. “I’ve seen magic do far more good than a sword or the best of Gaius’ herbs,” Merlin insisted. Realizing he was perhaps a little overzealous in his tone, he forced himself to shrug and add, “So it can’t be all bad, yeah?”
Arthur shook his head and started to absently flip through books on the table. “Well, maybe it’s like you said. Things are different there.”
“Something like that,” Merlin muttered before setting about researching both portals and poisons for the day.
They paged through as many books as they could, setting them aside into three distinct categories. The first was anything the might have to do with the poison. The second was anything that might have to do with the portal. The final bunch was what Arthur deemed worthless despite containing priceless tomes with vast repositories of information simply because said information was not useful to them at that particular time.
Merlin grabbed more than one from midair during a careless toss and carefully set it into the designated stack. He hated to think of what Gaius would say about the state of his workroom as it was. Books and scrolls were everywhere, some open, some closed, and some stacked precariously atop each other and far too close to candled braziers for even Merlin’s liking, let alone his mentor’s. This was all, of course, mixed in with platters of food Arthur had brought whenever he had a craving, or possibly got bored. There were a lot of plates, some even still with meats and cheeses.
Arthur leaned against a now empty shelf while Merlin compared a figure sketched on parchment with what Gwen had dropped off as Gaius’ findings thus far. The physician was now sleeping in guest quarters near his makeshift lab, and Merlin envied him despite his own lie in, but had threatened that everything had better be in order when he returned in the morning. Gwen had promised to stop by first thing to help if needed, and reminded Arthur to keep his wine and tea away from the books if at all possible, which they both took to mean by any means necessary.
Arthur had just taken another sip from his goblet, when Merlin felt the surge of portal behind him. Arthur must have sense something as well, as suddenly he was at the edge of the barrier, sword in hand and wine long forgotten. “Is this how it works then? A brief glow to tell you that someone is on his way?” he asked, repositioning himself in front of Merlin.
Merlin used a ribbon to mark his page and looked up at Arthur in surprise. “You can see that? Even Gaius had trouble,” he mused aloud. He also mused as to the possible reasons why, but kept that to himself. Arthur hated to be reminded of his possibly magical beginnings, and Merlin rather needed him focused on the task at hand and not on the past at the moment.
The task at hand was apparently another scroll case being slid through. Arthur glared at it in mistrust, and then turned that same glower in Merlin’s direction when he very calmly picked it up and opened it, not even bothering to check if it was booby trapped. Merlin could feel the familiar warmth Morgana’s magic even through the portal, and knew whatever she sent would be safe.
He opened the seal and quickly scanned the contents, sighing in disappointment when he found that no antidote had been found on that side either, though they had discovered that at least one of the ingredients was magical in origin, so there was that. He dutifully reported his findings to Arthur, who looked as though he was torn between being relieved and displeased. Merlin suspected that it was likely due to Arthur hoping for a magical cure to be hand delivered to put an end to all this, and had to admit it was something he would have rather liked as well.
There was one thing of interest, however. It was minor, and Morgana seemed to have mentioned it solely in passing in her attempt to be forthcoming with anything and everything that could potentially be of aid. The magical ingredient was also referenced in a book of histories as being revered by a group known as “Suaimhneas.” Not much was known about them, save a mention of the Druid legends of a private and cloistered group that wished simply to live as one with nature and to be left alone.
The word reminded Merlin of something he had seen. He resisted the urge to use his magic to locate the reference, and instead rummaged through the stack of parchment and books until he found what he was looking for. There, on a chart of rare and useful herbs, was a drawing of a lily-like plant. Scrawled beneath it were the words, “Source: Suaimhneas.” There was also a little symbol that looked like a stylised version of the plant simplified into near runic form.
“I’ve seen that,” Arthur commented. Merlin was about make a comment of his own regarding the prince’s memory, or lack thereof, when he reached not for the stack full of herb lore and curatives, but for the stack with hints about portals and magical transports instead, only to quell such urges when Arthur placed the text side by side with the parchment and said simply, “Here.”
Merlin looked back and forth at the aged pieces of parchment, and was forced to agree: the symbol was the same, down to the little curve at the end. “But if there is a connection between the plant and the portal...” he started.
“Then we have to question if there is a connection between your little group of friends and the assassin,” Arthur finished for him.
“I was going to say that then we should warn them that the same group could be on both sides, if they are even connected at all,” Merlin argued.
Arthur rolled his eyes. “The likelihood of a magical portal appearing with a pretty little symbol and a magical poison appearing with a pretty little symbol at nearly the same moment in time is rather small, wouldn’t you say?” he huffed. “The similarities are too great; there must be a connection.”
“There are far more similarities between the realms than just a single symbol with possible ties to magic,” Merlin huffed back. “People, places, even the tapestry that hangs in the west wing, all of these are the same. Same enough to know they are not all bad, at least.”
“And yet magic is not banned and I apparently do not exist,” Arthur pointed out. “Something is fundamentally different there. Are you saying that this difference is not enough to make a supposed good turn evil? Or at least some section of that ‘good’ to want to ensure nothing challenges their reign, whether from this realm or their own?”
“I’m saying that I know who I trust on that side, and feel the need to warn them that their lives may also be at risk,” Merlin replied. He pulled on his hair in frustration, trying to think of something that would convince Arthur other than just simply going against his wishes and sending something through. He knew Arthur would be watching him far too closely for that and, unless he wanted to risk using his magic in front of the prince, he needed Arthur to at least contemplate the fact that a land inherently magical was not also inherently evil.
The fact that an understanding Arthur would also be less likely to run through any visitors from the other side with his sword just out of sheer pig-headedness was also a plus.
He bit his lip but quickly released it when it looked like Arthur was about to start up again. He’d probably ask just who it was Merlin was trusting and he’d be forced to say Morgana and he’d be forced to reveal the Morgana on that side was a powerful sorceress which would in turn make Arthur question if the Morgana on this side was a sorceress which would in turn make Arthur wonder just who else might have magic and he’d begin to look at things far too closely and it would all be such a mess. He needed more time to think it over, and that meant he needed a stalling tactic.
He was not quite certain why this particular example came to him, but he blurted out, “Cedric!”
Arthur paused, clearly not expecting that. “Cedric?” he repeated, quite obviously looking for clarification.
Merlin nodded. “The Cedric on this side was a thief who got caught up with something magical, right?” he began, reminding Arthur of long conversations that stressed a lack of jealousy over someone else waiting on him hand and foot and more actual concern for the prince’s well-being. “Well, the Cedric on that side was also a thief.”
“What, and his little bauble formed the portal?” Arthur asked sceptically. “Well done, let’s just jump to conclusions without any evidence and, no, wait, that still does not convince me that people on that side are good, so what is your point, Merlin?”
Merlin resisted rolling his eyes, but just barely. “The ‘little bauble’ as you called it made all sorts of bad things happen: giant beasts, mass destruction, things like that. He tried the same on that side, only it got the better of him.”
“Still don’t see how this is supposed to convince me that side is good,” Arthur pointed out.
Merlin waved his hand to try to get him to shut up long enough to finish, then had to check that he did not actually cast a spell and was not going to be put to death for it when Arthur miraculously complied. From the look on his face though, he was tempted to smack him for daring to command a sovereign or some such thing, so Merlin rushed to continue, “The people that I want to warn, people who are as loyal to Camelot there as their counterparts are here, allowed magic to save the castle and save lives. Only one knight was injured and, even then, magic healed him. They did not give in to that power, they protected their people, and Camelot lives on. How bad can they be?”
“That’s the problem, Merlin, I don’t know!” Arthur shouted back. He started to pace and kicked a fallen parchment that was hopefully not life-changing or valuable out of his way in his frustration. He looked up and over to Merlin, indecision in his eyes. “I don’t know the people there. I don’t know if they are good or evil, if they want to help us or kill us all. I know that my people here are at risk and that a possible connection has been found between that risk and the people I know nothing about. My father would say to let them die, let them burn for their magic, but...”
“But you are not your father,” Merlin finished quietly. He did not know if it was a statement of fact or a plea or a hope for something better, but he felt it needed to be said. “There are people there who saved my life. You met one of them yourself. All I ask for is a chance to repay that favour by way of a simple warning.” Arthur’s jaw was tensing and releasing and Merlin knew he was close to capitulating, so he asked, “Do you trust me?”
The tension released fully, even his shoulder sagging as he said, “God help me, but yes, I do.”
“Then let me send the message,” Merlin tried.
“And if it’s a trap to see if you have figured it out and they send someone through to kill us all in our sleep?” Arthur asked.
“Then you have your answer and can tell me ‘I told you so’ as much as you want,” Merlin shrugged. With an impish grin, he added, “Of course, we’ll all be dead so it won’t be that much, unless they can make the dead talk and wouldn’t that be useful?”
“Not if they were as addled-brained as you,” Arthur muttered, but there was no heat to his tone. Louder, and far more sure of himself, he ordered, “There will be guards posted outside this door any time I leave. Anyone or anything comes through that portal will have to face either them or myself before they can do harm to the castle as a whole.”
Merlin nodded and silently added that they would have to get through him as well and he thought he may be a bit better suited to the task of taking down deranged sorcerers than Kerin the baker’s son who was just promoted to the position. That thought was neither her nor there at the moment though as he doubted anyone could get through all the wards Morgana had placed on the castle, battle her guards to find the portal room, and slip through without some advance warning, but he thought Arthur could use the reassurance as it was still a big step for him to risk trusting anything remotely related to being magical at all.
He searched around and found one of Gaius’ old quills and a pot of ink that was hopefully not too dried out. A bit more digging and he found some parchment that was actually clean and unused. It was far from the smooth velum Morgana had sent, and he knew his penmanship would be far from as refined as well, but also knew she was used to reading his scrawl by now.
He had just cleared off a space on the table to lay out his findings and begin his letter when he heard Arthur scuffing his feet and being petulant and basically trying to draw his attention without seeming like he was drawing his attention. Merlin looked up to find him, as expected, leaning against the bookcase poking at some random binding. He stared, knowing he was being watched in return, and waited as patiently as he could knowing Morgana was likely waiting with just as much impatience on the other side.
“Who is this person, Merlin?” Arthur finally asked.
He trusted Merlin’s word; he was letting him pen the missive, but clearly his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Unfortunately, that curiosity would not be sated, at least not any time soon. “I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you,” Merlin replied.
“Is it someone I know? From this realm? Someone I trust?” Arthur continued, undeterred.
Merlin sighed and put the quill down he had only just picked up, hoping it would not leave a blot on the page. “It is someone you would recognise; I have already told you this.”
“But would I trust this person?” Arthur pressed on.
Merlin paused before answering. Arthur trusted the Morgana of this world, though Merlin himself had good reason not to. He could not be positive that, with what Merlin knew of this realm’s Morgana plus the knowledge that she openly used magic in the other realm, Arthur would trust her word. Then again, he knew neither. In Arthur’s mind, Morgana was his surrogate sister, a ward taken in by his father who needed to be protected despite her best and most vehement protests. Knowing he likely did not fully keep the reluctance from his tone, Merlin answered, “I believe you trust the version of this person who resides in this realm.”
Arthur pondered that for a moment, thumb to his lip, before he asked, “Is it you?”
That was not what Merlin was expecting. He managed a squawked, “What?” in reply and fumbled the quill he had just picked up again, leaving more than a slight smear of ink behind.
“Is the person you are writing to yourself?” Arthur repeated. “Is it the other you, the you from that realm? You said ‘she’ before, but you could be attempting to mislead me or it is possible someone else is working for the other you.”
“Yes, Arthur, I am writing to myself,” Merlin said, disbelievingly. He shook his head before Arthur could cut in again. “Why would I hide that from you?”
“I won’t hold it against you if the other you happened to be cursed with magic, you know. Both you and that James repeatedly tried to convince me things are quite different there,” Arthur pointed out. “I don’t quite fully believe you regarding these differences, and likely will not until I can see it with my own eyes, but would like to place a name and possibly a face to this mysterious person I am supposed to blindly trust. I trust you, relatively so, and would extend that trust conditionally to the other you as well, at least until proven otherwise.”
The fact that Arthur claimed to trust him warmed Merlin’s heart. The fact he was so clearly wrong with his guess made Merlin want to laugh. The fact that he used the phrase “cursed with magic” made Merlin squirm, so he called the others a wash and replied simply, “It is not me, I can promise you that much.”
Arthur frowned as though disappointed by this knowledge. “Have you met the other you there? Perhaps if you can spot the differences between yourself and him, it will give us, and by us I mean me, something to go off of as to how the people there stack up against the people here.”
Merlin saw a glimmer of hope in his gaze, and knew Arthur wanted a reason to trust, wanted a reason to believe that this was actually a safe option, that he needed to go against a lifetime of being taught magic was evil as was anyone remotely associated with it, that he could trust a poor servant and not the word of his king or his advisors on this matter. Unfortunately, Merlin did not have the means to give him this reassurance at this time. He knew it was safe, but had no way of convincing Arthur of this fact. He could lie, say there was another man identical to him on the other side who promised him so many splendid things and they all come true, but Merlin felt that rather went against that whole trust thing that was being offered and could not bring himself to do so.
Instead, Merlin answered honestly, “There is no me on the other side, just as there is no you. Some things are different, and we happen to be two of the most obvious of these changes.”
Arthur looked crestfallen, but Merlin knew he appreciated the honesty. “Write your letter, send it through,” he ordered, words clipped and precise and clearly showing his emotions. “But I would feel much better if you were not sleeping alone here at night with that thing active.”
“Gaius-” Merlin started to say, but was cut off.
“Is no match for an armed assassin or a doorway to a magical realm,” Arthur finished for him. He tone broke no argument on that matter. “He will keep his room on the other side of the castle until this is sorted out.”
“The guards?” Merlin tried.
“He will have guards assigned to him there just as this room shall this evening as well,” Arthur said either not getting it or being purposefully dense. “This door will be locked and no one in or out without my approval until morning.”
Merlin slammed the quill down on the table, the little pot of ink teetering dangerously at the action. “And just where am I supposed to sleep, the stables?” he fumed. His little corner room was not much, but it was his and it was home and he’d be damned if he was going to leave it for a night full of horse manure.
Arthur simply rolled his eyes. “A cot can be made up for you in the antechamber of my rooms,” he explained as if he had not just happily taken away all of Merlin’s privacy. “It’s far safer and likely just as comfortable as that hovel of yours.”
“I don’t want a cot, I want my bed!” Merlin replied. “Not to mention a door with a means to shut you out. Anyway, what if another package comes through? Or James? We would have no way of knowing until far past whatever deadlines they set, or at least until after the guards attacked James when they heard him mucking about in here. And don’t say they would not - an assassin loose in the castle and an unknown man in knight’s garb appears in a locked room full of poisons? They’d attack, he’d attack, there would be a whole thing of attacking and quite possibly bloodshed, all because you won’t let me do something I have already been doing for weeks!”
He had, quite possibly, used a less than respectful tone with someone who could have him in chains at a moment’s notice and technically owned the entire castle - his little so-called hovel included, but he was quite fed up of Arthur’s pigheadedness and simply making assumptions about what was best when he did not have all the facts at hand to base that decision off of in the first place. It was not until he had to consciously get his breathing under control that he realised just how worked up he had gotten, and he winced inwardly in anticipation of Arthur’s response.
A response which was, once again, not quite what he was expecting. “That was quite dramatic, really,” Arthur said dryly. “One might even say melodramatic, even.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and smirked at Merlin’s answering frown. “You did raise a fair point, however. Should James come through again, he will likely be caught and I am assuming the other side would not be pleased with the prospect of losing what you claim to be their First Knight, nor would I be pleased with trying to convince my father why he should not simply behead him and be done with it. I cannot stay here myself to ensure your safety as that would look quite suspicious. The only solution is to lock you in again until I retrieve you in the morning.”
Merlin nodded in agreement, even though he felt a bit like one of the royal hounds being kennelled for the night. Then again, he had seen the kennels and they were often times less draughty than his own quarters come winter, so maybe he should not mind the comparison quite so much.
Arthur stayed quiet long enough after that for Merlin to finish writing, though it was absolutely no surprise when he attempted to read over Merlin’s shoulder as to just who the thing was addressed to, frowning when he found no such thing. The parchment was to be placed back into Morgana’s scroll case and sent back through, it would not take a genius on the other side to figure out just who should and should not read what was found.
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