Fic: Trembling on the Edge (3/?)
Title: Trembling on the Edge (Chapter 3)
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~9,246
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur (eventual), Will Stanton, Bran Davies, Lancelot/Gwen, Morgana, Freya, The Lady, Merriman, King Arthur, OC
Warnings: (Ch.3) non-con (off-screen), incest but they’re not related by blood but just to be safe (and I probably gave it away who the two people will be ;))
Disclaimer: The show Merlin is property of the BBC. The Dark Is Rising book series is property of Susan Cooper. Some elements inspired by the 2010 film, “Never Let Me Go.”
Summary: As darkness descends, six people come together to save the world. Nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter 3: The Dark gains an advantage.
The Devil’s Game ~
Past:
The rooks were flying directly at the nursery window, trying in vain to gain entry. Stephen Emrys paid them no mind. He took his nephew out of his crib and he sat down at the desk chair.
The baby had been crying, disturbed by the noise the rooks were making.
Stephen hushed Merlin. “It’s all right, Merlin. Here you are now,” he said to him, giving him his blue and yellow dragon plushie.
Merlin gurgled happily and hugged the dragon to him.
“Aren’t you a little Dragonlord?” Stephen murmured to him.
Merlin blinked at his uncle.
Determined to get this done before the rooks could break the window, Stephen removed the glove from one of his hands.
“Now this won’t hurt,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
He pulled up Merlin’s sleeve. From each finger, a thin line of flame shot out and merged together to form the symbol of a circle quartered by a cross on the baby’s forearm.
The Sign of the Light.
Stephen was relieved when Merlin didn’t appear to notice what had happened. He hadn’t felt the sensation of fire on his skin. Instead, Merlin seemed more interested in squeezing the dragon’s head with his tiny fingers. The quarter crossed circle faded away from Merlin’s forearm. It would remain an invisible sign for now. His nephew need never know it was there. Feeling a surge of something he preferred to keep inside of him, Stephen put the glove back on his bare hand.
Outside, the rooks made an almighty ruckus, but they knew it was no use now, and they all flew off. Though one particular rook was undeterred and managed to break through the window. A shard of glass was stuck inside of the black bird, leaving it half-dead. The offending rook fell to the ground.
Merlin started to cry again at the noise, and Stephen tried to quiet him and then set him back in his crib.
He cajoled the baby, giving him another dragon plushie - this one was red and white - as a companion to the other one. “Look, Merlin. Two little dragons. What could be better?” He said, smiling as Merlin enthusiastically played with the dragons, bumping them against one another in an attempt at different embraces.
Before he could return his attention to the rook, his older brother Balinor came into the room.
“Hunith is getting some much needed rest,” Balinor said.
“That’s good. She deserves it,” Stephen said sincerely. “The rooks have been causing a fuss,” He noted.
“Hmm, yes. I see. Get it back outside, would you, Stephen?” Balinor asked him. He reached into the crib and pulled out his son.
“But it’s injured. I know it’s no innocent creature, but…” Stephen paused, biting his lip.
“Do what you feel is best,” Balinor said to him.
Stephen nodded and he went to remove the glass from the bird, but once he saw that the rook was beyond saving, he took off his glove and formed a ball of fire in his hand. He set the deceased bird on fire, cremating the creature properly as that was more sanitary anyway.
“Merlin has an affinity for dragons, it seems,” Balinor mused as Merlin refused to let go of his dragon toy.
“You don’t sound surprised,” Stephen pointed out as he put his glove back on.
“Ah, you don’t either,” Balinor retorted lightly, smiling.
“Let us hope that he’ll regain what he has lost when he is old enough to deal with it,” Stephen said thoughtfully. “The Dark is only biding their time in our reality with those terrible boarding schools. But I doubt they’ll win in the final battle in the other reality,” he said firmly.
“The youngest Old One has befriended the Pendragon,” Balinor said. “The Light will surely win. But you can’t dissuade me, Stephen. I need to go there, to help. With the Light’s victory there, then the Dark will be unable to make a try in our reality for some time. They’ll be too weakened by the loss to do a mass assault on our reality.”
“And if they do, hopefully it’ll be when Merlin’s old enough, when the others too are old enough, to stop them properly.”
“You’ll want to know this,” Balinor confided in him. “I heard that if the Light wins, then they can set the year for when the Dark can strike at its strongest in our reality, if it comes to that. So, of course, they’d conveniently do it at least two decades from now.”
“Did Merriman tell you that?”
Balinor nodded. “They need aid in any form, and it is only right that I go. For my son’s sake. I know how you and change don’t cooperate. It is best you stay here.”
“But you can’t leave your son, Balinor. I have no son, no family, not like you. You should be the one to stay. I understand you want to help the cause of the Light, for humanity, but family still comes first. You can’t abandon your family.”
“You’ve said your piece many times, Stephen. But I need to do this. If I die, I’ll die knowing I did what I could to insure my son grows up in a non-apocalyptic world. That he’ll be able to follow in my footsteps when the time is right and not perish before he’s had an honest chance at life,” he said firmly, strong in his conviction. “You will keep an eye on him, won’t you, Stephen?”
“Of course. Merlin’s my nephew,” Stephen said with a nod.
“Good. I know I can trust you,” his older brother said confidently.
After a moment, Stephen said quietly, “Balinor?”
“Yes?”
“Did Merriman…about my soul, will my soul be saved?” He ventured tentatively.
Balinor sighed. He set down his son in his crib before sitting down beside his younger brother.
He took off Stephen’s gloves. “No, don’t do that,” Stephen said sharply, pulling his uncovered hands away from his brother.
“You’re a good person. That’s all that matters,” Balinor said resolutely.
Stephen’s hands trembled as he put his gloves back on. “I wish I could believe that as strongly as you,” he admitted.
Balinor pulled him into an embrace. Stephen relaxed, his conflicted mind easing for the moment.
Sometimes actions were louder than words after all.
~ * ~
Present:
“Arthur, I wasn’t expecting you,” Morgana started all too calmly.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he entered her home. “I’m not here for pleasantries, Morgana. I just want you to tell me about this,” he said firmly.
He showed her the “Most Wanted” poster of Will Stanton. It was crossed out, a big ‘X’ through the whole paper and the word, “dead” scrawled across it.
Morgana looked at him in puzzlement. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with me?”
“You’re working with the Rider, I know you are. It would be all too perfect if he told you to do this. You just couldn’t say no.”
“The Rider?” Morgana wondered, continuing to act confused. “I don’t understand, Arthur. Are you trying to accuse me of killing a boy of all people?” She asked in shock.
Arthur felt impatient and he just knew he looked it too. “Mr. Mitothin. Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t know exactly what he did to you, but you’re complicit in this. And I looked through a lot of flyers, and some even had your handwriting.” He informed her.
He pulled out another flyer, unfolded it, and then also removed a note that Morgana had written some weeks ago from his pants pocket as well.
Arthur gave her a firm look, daring her to deny it. Both papers had the same elegant, cursive writing that Arthur knew was Morgana’s. He had grown up with her after all.
“You’re mistaken. I don’t know what this has to do with your accusations. So that handwriting is mine. It doesn’t mean I killed someone.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised that the Rider would do this. To have my sister kill an enemy of the Dark. To send a message to me.”
“I thought you had a talk with him. Why do you still not see that you’re on the wrong side?”
Arthur latched on to her words. “How do you know that I talked to him?” Arthur asked.
“Elena called,” Morgana said slowly. “She told me you had a rather long conversation with Mr. Mitothin. And that after it, you came out of the office looking positively irritated about something.”
“Fine, you know what? If you’re going to act clueless, I’m going to leave. I don’t have the time or energy to get you to see that you, Morgana, are on the wrong side.”
Morgana’s green eyes sparked. “That boy was no boy. He wasn’t even human. The crime isn’t as bad as you make it seem. It was more like killing an alien. I did it for the sake of humanity!” She exclaimed.
Arthur was startled and dismayed that Morgana believed in her conviction so strongly when it was a lie.
“That’s what they have made you think, but I’m sorry, Morgana - I can’t see you as a sister of mine if you’re okay with killing a child who has done nothing to you personally. I remember who I truly am, and I will kill myself hundred times over before I side with the Dark,” Arthur said fiercely. “Good bye, Morgana.”
He moved toward the door, but Morgana’s parting words sent a tendril of uncertainty within him.
“No one leaves the Black Rider’s presence unscathed, Arthur. You may think that you’ve been left unaffected, but only time will tell,” she threatened smoothly.
Arthur clenched his jaw, his fists tight on either side of him. He didn’t deign to answer her. He just opened the door and left, shutting the door behind him.
Morgana didn’t know what she was saying. He wouldn’t let her words get to him. He felt the same. There was no way…the Rider couldn’t have done anything to him.
Arthur didn’t want to consider the possibility that this Lord of the Dark was capable of subtly manipulating him, so that even Arthur himself didn’t recognize it. That maybe the Rider wanted Arthur to be complacent, to believe he was still on the side of the Light. The thought made Arthur a little paranoid, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
He had to find a way to get in contact with Merlin’s Uncle Stephen. Arthur had a feeling this Stephen had a connection with the Light. If the Rider appeared to hate the man, then clearly that meant Stephen was an enemy of the Dark.
Like that boy, Will Stanton, had been…
Arthur thought it was horrible that even the life of a child could not be spared during these dark times. What was the world coming to?
~ * ~
Freya sat by Will’s bedside. She checked his pulse again, for what was the third time in the space of a few minutes. She felt anxious because he hadn’t woken up.
“Why isn’t he coming back to life, Mr. Emrys?” She asked Merlin’s uncle.
Merlin’s uncle, Stephen Emrys, had graying hair, a man well on in the middle of his years. But his blue eyes were just as inquisitive, just as vibrant as they’d been in his younger days. He wore a dark suit with a pale grey vest underneath, always the picture of propriety. But the strangest thing about him was the skintight dark leather gloves he wore most of the time.
“Merriman said it’s because he’s so young, his powers aren’t as strong as they could be,” Stephen explained to Freya, resting a gloved hand on the back of her chair. “He won’t come back to life as quickly as a consequence. But he will wake up. There is no doubt about that. Though having his immortality tested when he’s still a child, in a sense, will take a toll on him. But sometimes, we learn strength through weakness.”
“It’s horrible,” Freya remarked. “Especially with what’s happening now…it’s the worse time for him to die.”
“There’s nothing more that the Dark wants now is to ‘poke a hole’ in our efforts,” Stephen said.
“I see your way with words has not changed, Stephen,” Merriman said drily, a slight smile on his face, as he entered the room. He was holding a vial of a pale liquid.
“Merriman,” Stephen said with a nod.
“What is that you’re holding?” Freya asked him.
“Ah, this is just a restorative for my Will there,” Merriman explained to them. “He should wake soon. I think it best if I’m the only one in the room. I don’t want him to be startled during such a moment…”
“I understand. But my nephew, Merlin, he’s all right?” Stephen inquired, sounding concerned but his words laced with a sense of urgency.
“Yes. He’s outside Time now. He hasn’t remembered yet, but those are tricky matters. You cannot force it. Bran has taken a shine to him though,” Merriman noted, giving a small smile. “But it is not your nephew I am worried about,” he added grimly.
“Who is it?” Freya was curious to know.
“It’s best not to name names now. And it’s nearing time. If it’s all the same to you,” Merriman said, giving the other two significant looks.
“Of course. Come along, Freya.”
As the two of them left the room, Merriman said, “Thank you, Stephen, Freya.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Stephen said while Freya smiled in response.
The two of them departed from the room, leaving Merriman alone with Will.
~ * ~
Merlin woke up to find his bed empty.
Bran burst into his room. He had a smile on his face. “Good morning, Merlin. Will’s all right. The Lady told me so,” he said breathlessly.
“The Lady?” Merlin uttered, puzzled.
Then a small, old woman with strangely young-looking eyes entered his room. She wore a blue dress that brought out the blue in her eyes. Merlin had the sense that this woman was more than just a woman. She wasn’t an Old One, no; she had to be beyond that. Beyond any power…
“Hello, Merlin,” The Lady said, her voice soft yet pleasantly bell-like too. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
She held out her thin hand to him, and he shook it. On one finger, there was a ring with a rose-coloured stone. Merlin felt a warm feeling of peace and calm in her presence.
After the handshake, Merlin asked, “Who are you exactly? Bran said you’re the Lady.”
“I have lived a very long time, Merlin, and have gone by many names. You may simply call me the Lady. You have been told about the High Magic?”
Merlin nodded. “Are you a part of that?”
“I speak for the will of the High Magic on occasion, yes.”
“Merriman calls her ‘Madam’,” Bran pointed out.
Merlin thought if a 4,000 year old man deferred to someone like that, then clearly that meant this woman was very old, and very powerful as well.
“You have a Sign of Fire on you, Merlin,” she told him gently.
“What?”
“On your forearm. There you are,” she informed him. She pulled up his sleeve and swept her hand on the inside of his forearm.
Merlin was surprised to see a small quarter crossed circle appear on his forearm. It was a smooth white, looking well-healed like it had been a long ago burn.
“Oh, I didn’t even know who had that,” Bran remarked, peering at the sign.
“I didn’t know either,” Merlin mused, looking questioningly at the Lady. “Where did it come from?”
“Your Uncle Stephen gave it to you when you were very young. I do feel it best if Stephen would tell you his part in this troubling time, but it is better for you to know as soon as possible.”
“He didn’t tell me exactly what he’s caught up in, but is he working for the Light? But he’s just a man, is he?”
“Yes, your uncle is just a man, but a good man at heart, which we can’t have enough of when the Dark comes Rising. Stephen swore his services to the Light years ago. He is now one of the leaders for the Resistance, those who are fighting against the Dark in your reality. The Sign of Fire, which is a Sign of the Light as well, is meant as a symbol of protection for you. It has served you well, though you were unaware of its existence.”
“I wish I had met him earlier…although I haven’t actually seen him. He just calls or writes me. I don’t understand…”
Merlin noticed that not only the Lady but Bran too held an unhappy expression.
“Your uncle has his own struggles like any man,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice as she spoke. “I don’t wish to speak for him as that is his place, but he may think that if he saw you, then he’d have to tell you everything. As you are his kin, and it is your right to know. But how he communicates with you now creates a barrier.”
“So he would feel less guilty about not telling me,” Merlin decided with a sigh. Then he thought - if his uncle had doings with the Light, what about his father? “What about my father? Was he involved in the same way as my uncle? They were brothers after all. I know he disappeared, but I don’t know more than that.”
“Like your uncle, your father was involved with the Light,” The Lady confirmed. “I am sure if your mother knew what he was doing, she wouldn’t have let him do it. But he wanted to insure that the Dark was defeated in Bran’s reality. So your father chose to aid the Light. It was for your sake, I believe, to make sure that your reality was safer.”
Merlin was grateful to finally know what had happened to his father; but it still hurt that he hadn’t gotten the chance to know him. That his father had given up his life for a good cause, but he had paid the price of never getting the opportunity to watch Merlin grow up. And his mother had no clue while his uncle hadn’t told Merlin the truth. Maybe because he didn’t believe at the time that Merlin would believe it?
After all, this ordeal between the Light and the Dark was not something everyone could comprehend. Merlin wasn’t sure if he would’ve written his uncle off as being half-mad if he had delved into the truth.
Also, this was quite possibly the worst time to discover the truth of his father’s disappearance. Of course he’d find out about during an apocalypse. Merlin knew that to truly resolve this, he needed to discuss the matter properly with his uncle. But for now, he had to focus on dealing with the end of the world. It was what his father would have wanted, for Merlin to do what he could to help.
“Because if the Dark loses in one reality, they’ll have less chance of gaining control of another reality…” Merlin concluded slowly. Wasn’t that what they were doing now but in reverse? Now they were attempting to defeat the Dark to prevent them from making a second try in the reality they’d lost in. “Wait, but…is this the same battle that happened a year ago for you, Bran?”
“Yes,” Bran confirmed. “It wasn’t long ago for me, but from your uncle’s perspective…it has been a little over two decades. To the Light and the Dark, Time isn’t linear…since they can both travel in Time, there is less of a restriction. It is stupid, in my opinion, for the Dark to make a try in your reality after their recent total defeat in ours,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“Is this like real life Doctor Who then? With the time travel?”
“Oh, the bloke with the long scarf?” Bran asked.
“Er yeah…” Merlin said slowly. Back in the ‘70s, he thought to himself, feeling miffed.
Now he had a bowtie and sometimes wore a fez.
The Lady looked understandably bemused at the turn of conversation. “I’ll be leaving now,” she cut in smoothly. “Will is with Merriman at your uncle’s, Merlin. He’ll return here soon. He will be fine,” she reassured them, smiling.
Once the Lady left the room, Bran looked to Merlin. “The Lady only told me that Will had been hurt. But it has to be something really bad for Merriman to be involved.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you when he returns,” Merlin told him confidently.
He doubted Will could keep whatever had really happened from Bran. Anyway, Bran definitely seemed to be the type to be good at getting information out of someone - just by the force of his personality alone.
“Of course he will,” Bran agreed. “Are you all right though?” he asked of him in concern. “After finding out about your father?”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it,” Merlin assured him, giving him a small smile. Then changing the subject swiftly, he asked in curiosity, “Now what is this about the Doctor with the long scarf? That’s Tom Baker…that was decades ago.”
Bran looked amused. “Oh well, actually…my and Will’s present day is 1978, so he’s the current Doctor in our time.”
Merlin stared at him. “Seriously? And you didn’t think to tell me this before?”
“Sorry…it must have slipped my mind,” Bran remarked, looking a bit sheepish. “What about you? Your current year is 2011, isn’t it? What Doctor are you on?”
“The Eleventh Doctor. He wears a bowtie.”
Bran let out a breath. “Wow. You’re already on double digits!”
“Did you know Tom Baker was pretty much high in almost every episode during his run?” Merlin pointed out to him.
Bran frowned. “And how is that a bad thing?” He argued.
“Well, he is still considered one of the most popular Doctors even in my time,” Merlin conceded. “So I guess it wasn’t a bad thing exactly. Bad for his health, maybe.”
“Scarf beats a bowtie, I think,” Bran decided.
Merlin was hit by another memory flash then.
“Your neckerchiefs are completely ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur had said to him, and proceeded to remove the offending blue neckerchief from his neck.
Merlin shook his head. These memory flashes felt disorienting and he dearly wished he’d get a full memory return. Recalling bits and pieces out of order didn’t help much at all.
“We should make a pro and con list of our respective Doctors,” Bran announced.
Merlin thought it was a welcome relief to have the somber mood lifted after last night’s worry about Will.
Not long into their endeavor, Gwen and Lancelot found them arguing amicably. The couple soon joined in after they learned what they were discussing.
~ * ~
“Hullo,” Will said cheerfully enough to Stephen and Freya who came into the room.
He was sitting up in bed, in the midst of drinking tea. He set down the cup. Will looked too pale as if he had undergone a devastating illness instead of being shot to death. He looked tired, but otherwise in a good mood as he smiled.
“Stephen, I expect you to make sure he doesn’t get carried away,” Merriman said to him, giving him a significant look.
“Of course,” Stephen said.
“I’m not going to confront the Dark, Merriman. I do have sense,” Will assured him, though his voice sounded oddly adult. It wasn’t the words of a child defending himself, but more of someone older who deeply comprehended the gravity of the situation and knew what he shouldn’t do.
Merriman pat Will on the head in an intimate gesture, as a father would do to his child. Will smiled quietly at him.
“Yes, I know that,” Merriman acknowledged softly. “But you are still young and prone to believe in your invincibility. You will be physically weak for some time, so you should make sure to take it easy,” Merriman advised him firmly.
Will nodded, his expression solemn.
“Oh, I remember when I was your age,” Freya spoke up. “There was this really deep lake, and I was dared to dive into it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the best swimmer. It’s a miracle I survived that.”
“One time I hurt my arm after falling a few feet in the Welsh mountains…” Will told her. “Although that wasn’t completely my fault. The mountain shrugged, literally, and I lost my balance. It was the Dark’s way of telling me to go away.”
“They can do that?” Freya uttered. “That’s terrible. If you had fallen further, I can’t imagine…”
“Yes, they can. The Dark have their own tricks to manipulate and sometimes, it may not even be enough to be wary,” Merriman said, a note of weariness in his tone.
“You are planning to return to the others, right?” Stephen asked of Will.
“There’s somewhere else I need to go first,” Will informed him. “But that shouldn’t take long. And the Lady is at the Sanctuary, so they know I’m all right.”
“Stephen, I think it would be best if you contact Arthur,” Merriman directed him. “I expect he’s aware of you by now. Will needs to focus on his recovery. If you can bring him here, then I’ll take him to the Sanctuary.”
“I’ll get that taken care of,” Stephen said, nodding.
“Why don’t you just go to him, Merriman?” Freya wondered.
Will’s lips quirked into an amused smile, but he didn’t speak.
“My dear girl, you see, I can be a bit shy,” Merriman joked lightly.
“Quite the enigma, Merriman is,” Stephen put in.
Merriman appeared rather unaffected by the comment, as if used to others being perplexed by him.
~ * ~
Apparently everyone had gone mad, Arthur decided. Those who seemed to know about Merlin’s uncle kept talking about how he had the ‘hands of the devil’ and how you wouldn’t want to be near him if he had his gloves off.
As far as finding out where Stephen Emrys exactly lived, no one knew. It was in a secret location, or maybe his residence was magically hidden.
So Arthur, frustrated and tired with it all, thought it would be a good idea to get a drink or two. To loosen up a bit.
He knew his limit, and he was sure he’d gone over it as he downed shot after shot. But the world was ending, Gwen, Lancelot and Merlin were nowhere to be found, Gwaine and Elena were participating in a life-killing programme, and Morgana was someone he’d really rather not think about now.
Simply put, Arthur was stuck in a rut. He didn’t know what to do and even at work, he felt like he was on automatic, going through the motions. It was almost painful.
And there was this pretty woman at the bar. She had light brown hair and hazel, no, green eyes; but it was odd because Arthur felt like he should know this woman, but something…something made her seem like a stranger to him. He didn’t know what to make of her. But he was in the mood, so he couldn’t resist flirting with her for a bit.
She offered him a drink. Everything inside of him screamed against accepting the drink, but he was drunk and didn’t much care. It was only a drink, anyway. The woman had seemed trustworthy, and so Arthur drank it.
What happened after that, Arthur couldn’t quite recall.
~ * ~
“This will get me out of the organ donation programme, right?” Morgana wanted to confirm.
“It has only been a day, and you’re so sure you’re pregnant?” The Black Rider asked her, appearing amused.
“Yes, I know I am,” Morgana told him confidently. “And hopefully if the drink has worked as you said it would, Arthur won’t remember what I did with him.”
“Very well. We will check you out to make sure, and then we can proceed with the arrangement. We will send you, oh, thirteen years into the past to have the child there,” the Rider told her.
“But the programme?” Morgana asked again.
“We won’t have need of you once you give birth to the child,” the Rider said dismissively.
“Every child needs a mother. You need me. I’m more use to you with all my organs intact,” Morgana argued.
The Rider stroked his chin. “You may have a good point. Too much trouble finding someone else to look after the child. As long as you allow the Dark to have a strong influence in the child’s life.”
Morgana nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I’m sure the child will come to see you as a father,” she assured him.
The Rider clasped his hands, looking inordinately pleased. “It would be a great boon for us to have Mordred. If the Light has that little pale freak, then we deserve something too. And after being reprimanded for halting travel between outside Time and Earth, I certainly can use this happy news at the moment,” he mused, smiling a twisted smile.
~ * ~
Will found Bran’s birth father in the sitting room within the castle. The silver-circled castle at the back of the North Wind, among the apple trees, he thought. It was where Bran would have gone if he hadn’t decided to remain on Earth.
The fire was crackling merrily in the hearth. King Arthur, now a Lord of the High Magic, looked much the same as the last time Will had seen him. He had a strong, noble sun-tanned face and vibrant blue eyes. His hair was brown and lightly streaked with grey though his beard was fully grey. Will recalled when he had first seen him, how despite this lord being a man in the middle of his years, he still had the vigour of a young man and the wisdom of an old one.
There was a quiet authority about Bran’s true father. It was as if he was well-aware of his importance and was confident in the knowledge, but he didn’t carry the pomp that others of high standing were wont to do.
Will smiled quietly when Arthur noticed his presence. He nodded to the older man. “My Lord,” he said solemnly.
“Ah, Old One, it is good to see you. You should sit down. You’re not looking well,” he said, peering at him in concern.
“I’m all right,” Will declared steadily. He sat down in the vacant seat across from Arthur.
“Merriman told me what transpired,” Arthur informed him. “Terrible business, the apocalypse. Merriman had waited so long for the final battle, and now the Dark is having a try in another reality so soon after that. As you can imagine, Merriman is not happy about it.”
“I know. I see how grumpy he is about the whole matter. He was looking to retire in peace and now this is happening. But Merriman is dealing with it as best as he can. Certainly helps that I’m the one in charge now. It is my duty after all,” Will said with a sigh.
“A burden that I hope will not weigh you down. I do expect you to come here to hasten your recovery. I would think there’s no better place,” Arthur remarked, pride in his voice.
“I intend to come here, yes,” Will agreed.
“Now what is the true reason of your visit? It has to do with my son, Bran, doesn’t it?” Arthur asked him.
Will nodded. “This is the second time he has been called in the fight against the Dark, as you well know. I talked this over with Bran and we decided that a concession be made. Since this second calling was unexpected, and it’s not fair to Bran to forget again for the rest of his life.”
“Do not think I see that you hold some bias in these matters,” Bran’s father said knowingly. “But I understand what you are saying. An adjustment needs to be made.”
“What if, what if…” Will paused, worried that once he gave his idea, that there was the chance it would be denied. And then what could he do? “What if he forgets for only a period of time, and he remembers when he’s of age, so to speak?” He suggested.
Arthur smiled, appearing to like the idea. “I will see what can be done, but understand, I am just one lord, Old One. I am not all powerful.”
“Yes, I know, My Lord,” Will said quickly. “But Bran thinks he could deal with that. Though his first choice is not to forget again at all, but this is a delicate matter.”
“Have you considered that one reason he chose to remain on Earth and forget was because you would remain as well?” Arthur said shrewdly.
“Oh,” Will only said, realizing that he hadn’t really considered that before.
But it made sense. Bran had known Will would stay on Earth in his lonely task as the Watchman of the Light. If Bran had left to retire with his birth father, King Arthur, outside Time in this castle… then it would be a long time before he would see Will again. And Will would live his immortal life on Earth, waiting until the day that he too could retire outside Time with his fellow Old Ones.
Thinking of it like that, Will decided he’d take Bran forgetting about the Light and the Dark, his identity as the Pendragon, and Will’s true nature as an Old One…because despite what Bran could forget, he would still remember the most important thing, that Will Stanton was a strange English boy who was his friend. That’s what truly mattered in the end.
King Arthur saw that Will was coming to a realization. He looked pleased as he saw Will smile to himself. “Now -- I would like to hear how my son is doing,” he asked of Will.
As the strong fire warmed the room, Will was all too happy to tell him.
~ * ~
Arthur was spared the effort of finding Merlin’s uncle when a petite blonde woman by the name of Alice came by his home in a small silver vehicle. She said that she would take him to Stephen’s residence as it was, as Arthur figured, tricky to find and get to. Arthur had asked if Alice was Stephen’s wife, as she looked middle-aged, though she seemed to be the type to age gracefully.
She had said no, that she was simply a close friend of Stephen’s. Apparently, Arthur learned, Merlin’s uncle had never married. As he’d expected, Stephen did have something to do with the Light. He was one of the leaders of the Resistance against the Dark. That because Merlin’s uncle had sworn his services to the Light, the Dark couldn’t touch him…he didn’t have the compulsion to participate in the programme.
No wonder the Black Rider couldn’t stand the man.
Stephen lived in an impressive manor in the country; the grounds were expansive and well-kept. Arthur thought it odd that he couldn’t quite remember the directions to the manor from his place. Alice assured him that was the trick of the manor, that anyone visiting wouldn’t be able to recall the directions. Unless you knew how to outwit the trick, which only a few knew how to do.
After seeing that the inside of the manor was just as grand as the outside, Arthur soon found himself in Stephen’s study.
“Hello, Arthur,” Stephen said with a smile, his gloved hands clasped in front of him. He motioned with a hand, directing him to take a seat at the empty chair across from him. Arthur did.
“Hi. You’re Merlin’s uncle then? A bit elusive, I’ve heard,” Arthur remarked.
“Yes, unfortunately, that has to be the case. But I am glad you’re here,” Stephen said.
“This may seem forward," Arthur began a bit uneasily, "but I was wondering what people mean about you having the ‘hands of the devil’? That if you take your gloves off, something bad could happen. I think it sounds bollocks, but--” Arthur stopped, feeling like it was a bad idea to bring this up.
Stephen frowned, but before he could say a word, a dark-haired young woman walked quickly into the room. She gave Arthur a cursory glance before looking to Stephen.
“Mr. Emrys, Merriman’s left. He told me there’s an urgent matter he needs to deal with. He said he wasn’t sure what it was, but well…urgent isn’t exactly indicative of a good thing. Will’s going to come instead,” she informed the older man. She turned to Arthur then. “I’m Freya, by the way. Merlin’s friend. You must be Arthur, right?”
Arthur nodded. “Nice to meet you, Freya,” he said, standing up to shake her hand. She shook it while at the same time, she swept back a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear.
She looked like she had run to the study, but she had a smile on her face for Arthur.
“Why I am not surprised Merriman has left,” Stephen noted. “He’s always going off somewhere,” he mused to himself.
“Wait. Will as in Will Stanton?” Arthur asked, confused, as he sat back down. “The boy who died?”
“Will’s immortal…” Freya told him slowly. She looked strangely at Arthur as if wondering why he didn’t know that. Then she corrected herself, “Though dying for the first time has physically weakened him a bit. He has to take things slow with walking and that sort of thing. But he is alive.”
“I think it’s best if I tell you about the Old Ones of the Light, Arthur,” Stephen decided.
Arthur listened intently as Stephen explained who the Old Ones were to him.
~ * ~
“Hello, Arthur. It’s good to finally see you,” Will greeted him when he came.
Arthur thought the boy might faint at any moment. He looked so pale and just tired, like he’d be better off resting in bed. But Will seemed to be doing his best job at hiding his weakness, an amicable expression gracing his face.
“I’ll get to see the others then? You’ll take me to them?” Arthur assumed.
“Yes, I’ll take you to them,” he assured Arthur.
“Oh Will,” Stephen said, “I know you have that system in place at the Sanctuary, but I thought…this is just some of my nephew’s things he might like. And I have something for you and Bran as well,” he told him, giving him the suitcase that was behind his desk.
Will opened the suitcase. He grinned as he surveyed the contents. He looked to Stephen. “I’m sure Bran will love what you got him. And thank you for the book. It’s just what I was looking for,” he said gratefully.
“Not a problem. Just showing that I do listen,” Stephen joked lightly.
“Who’s Bran?” Arthur wondered.
“He’s a very good friend of mine,” Will told him. “You’ll find out the rest at the Sanctuary. Also, you won’t need to worry about food at the Sanctuary because you won’t feel hungry while you’re there. You could eat if you want to, to keep a sense of normalcy, but you don’t need to. We mostly have food and drink for when you need to return to Earth and your body readjusts and you’re hungry again. So it’s best to eat carbohydrates for the energy you’ll need. We have clothes for each person, but if you would like to bring some of your own, we can stop by your home. There’s a bathroom attached to each room as well…we have a laundry room too, but after Bran kicked the washer one time, it’s started acting funny,” Will warned, his lips quirking in amusement.
“Funny as in how?” Arthur asked, raising his brow.
Will shrugged. “Seems to do different things for different people. It will still wash clothes properly though. Just be on the look out for odd designs on your clothes or for your whites to turn yellow…”
“Great,” Arthur said drily.
“We should go then,” Will announced.
Arthur remembered something and turned back to Stephen. “I have these two friends, Gwaine and Elena, who are under the compulsion… If you could do anything to help them, I’d really appreciate it,” he said sincerely.
“Of course. I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for letting me know,” Stephen told Arthur.
Arthur nodded at him.
“Good luck you two,” Stephen wished them.
Arthur left with Will.
~ * ~
Merlin smiled when Arthur entered his room.
“Feeling overwhelmed?” He asked Arthur.
Merlin tried not to think about those dreams he’d been having of Arthur. But it was terribly hard considering Arthur was here in the flesh. He finally had the chance to meet him properly.
Arthur nodded, rubbing his brow to that effect. He sat down beside Merlin on the bed.
Arthur looked carefully at Merlin. “You haven’t remembered yet?” He guessed.
“No I haven’t. You have?” Merlin ventured.
“Yeah. I was hoping once you’d see me…but still nothing?” Arthur said, feeling a bit desperate.
It would be so much easier if Merlin would just remember. Arthur wasn’t in the best of moods after Bran, with Will in the room, informed Arthur straight that he was a pale imitation of his birth father.
Once Arthur had left the room, he could hear Will and Bran arguing in what he was sure was Welsh.
That had certainly left Arthur with the sinking feeling it would take some work to get Bran to like him. At best now, the boy tolerated him.
One good thing was that Arthur had finally found out who he’d been possessed by - a version of himself from an alternate reality. According to Bran, a much better Arthur…but considering the other Arthur was his birth father, of course Bran would be biased. And Bran appeared to have the tendency to get defensive a lot, and he definitely wasn’t one to back down.
The boy would probably be the death of him.
“I have been getting odd flashes of memories and I’ve been having dreams…er, with you in them,” Merlin confided in him, blushing a bit in embarrassment.
Arthur quirked his eyebrow. “Really, Merlin? Care to share them in detail?” He asked slyly.
Merlin gave him a look. “Not a chance,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry though that you’ve remembered while I haven’t. Lancelot and Gwen haven’t remembered either. But with you here, maybe that’ll help us,” he said hopefully.
Arthur muttered his agreement, leaning toward Merlin and placing his hand strategically on Merlin’s upper thigh.
“What if physical contact is the key?” Arthur ventured.
“I don’t know…you may remember, but to me, I’ve just met you, Arthur,” Merlin reminded him.
Arthur smiled. “But you’ve met me in your dreams. Surely that counts?” He teased.
“Okay…well, we could try,” Merlin agreed. “But I should let you know… I’m a virgin.”
Arthur thought Merlin looked like he wanted to cover his head with a brown paper bag.
“What about when you remember, I can see to despoiling you,” Arthur offered, looking highly amused.
Merlin groaned. “I hate you,” he told him without much heat. “But yeah, that would be good. I just, I want to do it properly if it’s with you. I want to remember all of you. That sounds stupid. I don’t know. You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Arthur said, then because he couldn’t resist, he kissed Merlin.
Merlin proved receptive to the kiss, his lips were soft, and he opened his mouth slightly. Arthur lightly teased his tongue inside Merlin’s mouth and Merlin let out a moan as their tongues collided. Merlin lay back down on the bed as Arthur moved on top of him.
Arthur broke away from Merlin for a moment. “Do you remember yet?” He asked.
“Patience is a virtue,” Merlin only said in a slightly annoying singsong voice. He grinned at Arthur mischievously. “Shut up and kiss me,” he ordered.
Arthur was all too ready to oblige him.
~ * ~
When Arthur went to sleep that night in his room, which was nicely located next to Merlin’s, he almost wished he hadn’t gone to sleep.
The dream had started out pleasant enough. Merlin was in the dream, lying on the bed, naked and looking completely relaxed as he had his full attention on Arthur. His blue eyes had a daring, mischievous sparkle to them.
Arthur surveyed Merlin before him, carefully, wanting to drink all of him in.
He started kissing his neck, hitting the pulse point, and then…
Arthur felt fangs extend from his mouth. Like a vampire of all things. And his fangs latched onto Merlin’s neck, drinking blood from him.
He was horrified at what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself in the dream.
Arthur woke up by sheer force of will before he could see if the dream would end in Merlin’s death.
What the hell…? Why had he dreamed that he was a bloody vampire? Was this the work of that Lord of the Dark? Was this how Arthur was being affected?
Arthur checked his teeth and he thought they all felt normal. He didn’t feel an unusual thirst for blood either. Maybe it would just remain a bad dream. Though he worried what else the Black Rider had in store to mess with him.
~ * ~
The next day, Arthur saw Gwen and Lancelot in the lounge area. He had already reunited with them the previous day. He was curious to know where Merlin was since he wasn’t in his room that morning. Arthur had debated about seeing Merlin after that horrible dream, but a niggling part of him wanted to make sure Merlin was all right. Seeing Merlin losing life in front of him, as a result of his actions, had made Arthur rather anxious.
“Hey, Gwen, Lancelot,” Arthur said to them. “Do you know where Merlin is?” He asked them as he sat down.
“Good morning, Arthur,” Gwen said with a smile. Lancelot said the same. “Merlin has gone with Bran to Will and Bran’s reality. I think it has to do with getting more food. Will said we might need more. There are some other things they need to get too. And since their reality doesn’t have the Dark, it’s safer to spend time there.”
“Right…” Arthur said. “Merlin and Bran are getting along well then?” He concluded.
“Oh yes, very well. Merlin gets the chance to play the big brother. It’s sweet,” Gwen noted.
Arthur frowned.
“Not happy about it, mate?” Lancelot put in knowingly.
“No, no. I get it. Bran’s not had an easy life and I just got here. I understand if bonds have been formed already. I’m not going to throw a tantrum about it,” Arthur said reasonably.
“The fact you’re even mentioning throwing one…” Lancelot noted wryly.
“I’ll just shut up now,” Arthur grumbled.
“Anyway, so Will’s not at the Sanctuary either. He’s gone somewhere else for his recovery. Poor boy,” Gwen said sympathetically. “But there are usually other Old Ones about this place. They don’t show themselves too often, but you can sort of sense that they’re there. Merriman might be here.”
“He had an urgent matter to deal with. He might still be wrapped up with that,” Arthur figured. “I haven’t met him yet.”
“So it’s still only Lancelot and me who’ve met him. That’s odd,” Gwen remarked.
“I think we both know why that’s the case,” Lancelot said to Gwen. They exchanged secretive looks with each other.
“What does it matter if I see Merriman or not?” Arthur interjected, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“No reason!” Gwen answered quickly. “And it’s best you know this sooner rather than later… but as a part of ending this apocalypse…”
“…you have to pull Excalibur out of a stone,” Lancelot finished.
“Oh, well, that sounds completely original,” Arthur commented drily. “And what’s the catch?”
“The location, Arthur… it’s in the Dark’s stronghold,” Lancelot told him unhappily. “Somehow they got a hold of it. Gwen and I will help you get to the sword and I think we’ll have Merlin’s magic to help us too.”
“Is Merlin coming?”
He shook his head. “It’s too risky,” Lancelot said. “There’s the chance the Dark will trap Merlin and find a way to drain his magic. And the last thing we need is the Dark having Merlin’s magic at their disposal. But luckily there is a way for us to ‘siphon’ some of Merlin’s magic from him. That way he could remain where it’s safer for him.”
“Merlin hates being stuck here. That’s why he jumped at the chance to go with Bran to the other reality,” Gwen explained. Then she amended, “Actually, Bran chose Merlin to go with him.”
Arthur considered the pros and cons of banging his head against the wall.
On the upside, he looked forward to getting Excalibur back.
~ * ~
In Bran’s reality in the year 1978, he and Merlin had parted ways, planning to meet later to eat. Bran wondered if maybe they should have stuck together. But still, he felt like this was something he should take care of on his own. So with that thought, he slipped into an alleyway. He had sensed someone who should not exist, and yet the person did. But as to the purpose of the person being here in this reality and time, Bran couldn't say.
“I know who you are,” Bran said, no doubt in his words or thought.
The dark-haired boy looked the same age as him. His blue eyes glittered with intent as he surveyed Bran. “Do you? And here I don’t feel surprised,” the boy said with a lazy smile.
Bran stepped away from him. “You should leave now. I won’t listen to anything you have to say.”
“Oh, I have nothing against you. I just want to talk,” the boy said casually. “We are alike in some ways. Our respective birth fathers carry the same name and we both grew up in a time not our own. But where you were born as a freak of nature--”
“You’re an affront to nature,” Bran shot back viciously.
The boy smiled. “You should be grateful, Bran Davies, that we are from different realities. That you are still the sole holder of your blessed birthright,” he said sarcastically.
“If you’re not going to tell me what your business is here, then you should just go,” Bran told him.
But the boy did not leave. He kept smiling and it honestly worried Bran. He closed the distance between him and Bran, and he reached out, grabbing hold of Bran’s forearm.
“Let me go,” Bran demanded of him.
The boy’s grip remained strong. “You won’t scream. I just need a little something from you. You’ll live,” he assured him, though his smile was cold.
“I won’t keep quiet about you, you know that, Mordred,” Bran warned him.
“Yes, go ahead. Go tell your Old One about me. Tell him that Mordred said hello,” Mordred said with a smug smile. “Now hold still,” he told Bran.
Bran tried to pull away from him when Mordred took out a dagger and a vial.
“What are you doing?” Bran wanted to know.
He tried to wrestle out of Mordred’s grip.
“I said, hold still, or I will have to knock you out.”
Bran stilled, not particularly wanting to be knocked out.
“Good,” Mordred commented when Bran had stopped fighting. “I told you I don’t plan to kill you,” he reminded him.
“And I’m not going to believe you for one moment,” Bran retorted.
Mordred shrugged. He took the dagger and cut into Bran’s palm. Bran started glowing a strange white light as blood welled up in his palm. Mordred took the vial and collected enough blood to fill it.
Once he was done, closing the vial afterwards, Mordred healed the cut on Bran’s palm. The glow coming from Bran subsided and was soon gone.
“You’re welcome,” Mordred said, meaning for the healing he’d done. He put away the vial and the dagger in his jacket pocket.
“Go to hell,” Bran only said. He ripped his arm away from Mordred’s now loosened grip.
“What did you need my blood for?” Bran asked him, but he doubted Mordred would answer him truthfully if at all.
Mordred got into his personal space again. He touched Bran’s cheek, almost gently.
“Don’t touch me,” Bran said to him forcefully. “Go be weird somewhere else.”
“He will abandon you. That is their nature,” Mordred told him quietly, moving his finger along Bran’s lips.
Bran’s golden eyes flashed in clear anger and he moved away from him. Then before Mordred could say another word, Bran punched him in the face.
“You don’t know anything, you rotten bastard,” he said fiercely.
Bran walked out of the alleyway. Mordred covered his face in his hands, hands coming away with blood.
Despite the hit, Mordred felt pleased. He had gotten what he had come for.
~ * ~
“Are you all right?” Merlin asked Bran, sliding into the booth across from him. He set his few bags of things, mostly food and other essentials, down beside him.
Bran was wearing his dark glasses and looking down in his cup like he was frustrated by the liquid inside of it.
Looking up, Bran shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it,” Merlin commented.
“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Bran admitted. “I ordered the pizza,” he then said.
“Okay. I was wondering…where does your father, your adoptive father, think you are?”
Bran smiled. “Oh, Will settled that. But of course he thinks I’m with Will, which isn’t far from the truth. Anyway, he’s not stupid. He always knew who my true father was. A woman named Gwen coming out of the Cader Idris, The Seat of Arthur…it’s not particularly hard to figure out. My father always had that feeling I was different, not counting my strange appearance, of course,” he added, his lips quirking into a smile.
“What is it like for you at home?” Merlin asked him.
“Well, one time I felt like I was locked up in jail,” Bran recalled. “My father is very religious, you see - he’s a deacon. I can’t go to the cinema, can’t do anything on Sundays except walk about the hills. Honestly, when Will came and I helped him to defeat the Dark, that was the most excitement I had had in a while.”
“So your father’s pretty strict with you?” Merlin deduced.
“Well now, I suppose, he’s getting better,” Bran conceded. “But still, if you want to know how I was raised, there you are… I did have this dog though. I loved him more than anything,” Bran stopped there, shaking his head. He didn’t look like he wanted to continue.
“Is the dog…?” Merlin asked quietly.
“He was shot and killed by a mad man,” Bran said bitterly, looking rather upset as he spoke.
“That’s horrible. What was the dog’s name?”
“Cafall,” Bran told him, his voice breaking a little with the pain of the loss.
Merlin reached out his hand to squeeze Bran’s. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
Bran returned the pressure, but he remained silent. Wisely, Merlin ventured into a lighter topic just as the pizza arrived.
~ * ~
Chapter 4
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~9,246
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur (eventual), Will Stanton, Bran Davies, Lancelot/Gwen, Morgana, Freya, The Lady, Merriman, King Arthur, OC
Warnings: (Ch.3) non-con (off-screen), incest but they’re not related by blood but just to be safe (and I probably gave it away who the two people will be ;))
Disclaimer: The show Merlin is property of the BBC. The Dark Is Rising book series is property of Susan Cooper. Some elements inspired by the 2010 film, “Never Let Me Go.”
Summary: As darkness descends, six people come together to save the world. Nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Chapter 3: The Dark gains an advantage.
The Devil’s Game ~
Past:
The rooks were flying directly at the nursery window, trying in vain to gain entry. Stephen Emrys paid them no mind. He took his nephew out of his crib and he sat down at the desk chair.
The baby had been crying, disturbed by the noise the rooks were making.
Stephen hushed Merlin. “It’s all right, Merlin. Here you are now,” he said to him, giving him his blue and yellow dragon plushie.
Merlin gurgled happily and hugged the dragon to him.
“Aren’t you a little Dragonlord?” Stephen murmured to him.
Merlin blinked at his uncle.
Determined to get this done before the rooks could break the window, Stephen removed the glove from one of his hands.
“Now this won’t hurt,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.
He pulled up Merlin’s sleeve. From each finger, a thin line of flame shot out and merged together to form the symbol of a circle quartered by a cross on the baby’s forearm.
The Sign of the Light.
Stephen was relieved when Merlin didn’t appear to notice what had happened. He hadn’t felt the sensation of fire on his skin. Instead, Merlin seemed more interested in squeezing the dragon’s head with his tiny fingers. The quarter crossed circle faded away from Merlin’s forearm. It would remain an invisible sign for now. His nephew need never know it was there. Feeling a surge of something he preferred to keep inside of him, Stephen put the glove back on his bare hand.
Outside, the rooks made an almighty ruckus, but they knew it was no use now, and they all flew off. Though one particular rook was undeterred and managed to break through the window. A shard of glass was stuck inside of the black bird, leaving it half-dead. The offending rook fell to the ground.
Merlin started to cry again at the noise, and Stephen tried to quiet him and then set him back in his crib.
He cajoled the baby, giving him another dragon plushie - this one was red and white - as a companion to the other one. “Look, Merlin. Two little dragons. What could be better?” He said, smiling as Merlin enthusiastically played with the dragons, bumping them against one another in an attempt at different embraces.
Before he could return his attention to the rook, his older brother Balinor came into the room.
“Hunith is getting some much needed rest,” Balinor said.
“That’s good. She deserves it,” Stephen said sincerely. “The rooks have been causing a fuss,” He noted.
“Hmm, yes. I see. Get it back outside, would you, Stephen?” Balinor asked him. He reached into the crib and pulled out his son.
“But it’s injured. I know it’s no innocent creature, but…” Stephen paused, biting his lip.
“Do what you feel is best,” Balinor said to him.
Stephen nodded and he went to remove the glass from the bird, but once he saw that the rook was beyond saving, he took off his glove and formed a ball of fire in his hand. He set the deceased bird on fire, cremating the creature properly as that was more sanitary anyway.
“Merlin has an affinity for dragons, it seems,” Balinor mused as Merlin refused to let go of his dragon toy.
“You don’t sound surprised,” Stephen pointed out as he put his glove back on.
“Ah, you don’t either,” Balinor retorted lightly, smiling.
“Let us hope that he’ll regain what he has lost when he is old enough to deal with it,” Stephen said thoughtfully. “The Dark is only biding their time in our reality with those terrible boarding schools. But I doubt they’ll win in the final battle in the other reality,” he said firmly.
“The youngest Old One has befriended the Pendragon,” Balinor said. “The Light will surely win. But you can’t dissuade me, Stephen. I need to go there, to help. With the Light’s victory there, then the Dark will be unable to make a try in our reality for some time. They’ll be too weakened by the loss to do a mass assault on our reality.”
“And if they do, hopefully it’ll be when Merlin’s old enough, when the others too are old enough, to stop them properly.”
“You’ll want to know this,” Balinor confided in him. “I heard that if the Light wins, then they can set the year for when the Dark can strike at its strongest in our reality, if it comes to that. So, of course, they’d conveniently do it at least two decades from now.”
“Did Merriman tell you that?”
Balinor nodded. “They need aid in any form, and it is only right that I go. For my son’s sake. I know how you and change don’t cooperate. It is best you stay here.”
“But you can’t leave your son, Balinor. I have no son, no family, not like you. You should be the one to stay. I understand you want to help the cause of the Light, for humanity, but family still comes first. You can’t abandon your family.”
“You’ve said your piece many times, Stephen. But I need to do this. If I die, I’ll die knowing I did what I could to insure my son grows up in a non-apocalyptic world. That he’ll be able to follow in my footsteps when the time is right and not perish before he’s had an honest chance at life,” he said firmly, strong in his conviction. “You will keep an eye on him, won’t you, Stephen?”
“Of course. Merlin’s my nephew,” Stephen said with a nod.
“Good. I know I can trust you,” his older brother said confidently.
After a moment, Stephen said quietly, “Balinor?”
“Yes?”
“Did Merriman…about my soul, will my soul be saved?” He ventured tentatively.
Balinor sighed. He set down his son in his crib before sitting down beside his younger brother.
He took off Stephen’s gloves. “No, don’t do that,” Stephen said sharply, pulling his uncovered hands away from his brother.
“You’re a good person. That’s all that matters,” Balinor said resolutely.
Stephen’s hands trembled as he put his gloves back on. “I wish I could believe that as strongly as you,” he admitted.
Balinor pulled him into an embrace. Stephen relaxed, his conflicted mind easing for the moment.
Sometimes actions were louder than words after all.
~ * ~
Present:
“Arthur, I wasn’t expecting you,” Morgana started all too calmly.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he entered her home. “I’m not here for pleasantries, Morgana. I just want you to tell me about this,” he said firmly.
He showed her the “Most Wanted” poster of Will Stanton. It was crossed out, a big ‘X’ through the whole paper and the word, “dead” scrawled across it.
Morgana looked at him in puzzlement. “I don’t understand. What does this have to do with me?”
“You’re working with the Rider, I know you are. It would be all too perfect if he told you to do this. You just couldn’t say no.”
“The Rider?” Morgana wondered, continuing to act confused. “I don’t understand, Arthur. Are you trying to accuse me of killing a boy of all people?” She asked in shock.
Arthur felt impatient and he just knew he looked it too. “Mr. Mitothin. Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. I don’t know exactly what he did to you, but you’re complicit in this. And I looked through a lot of flyers, and some even had your handwriting.” He informed her.
He pulled out another flyer, unfolded it, and then also removed a note that Morgana had written some weeks ago from his pants pocket as well.
Arthur gave her a firm look, daring her to deny it. Both papers had the same elegant, cursive writing that Arthur knew was Morgana’s. He had grown up with her after all.
“You’re mistaken. I don’t know what this has to do with your accusations. So that handwriting is mine. It doesn’t mean I killed someone.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised that the Rider would do this. To have my sister kill an enemy of the Dark. To send a message to me.”
“I thought you had a talk with him. Why do you still not see that you’re on the wrong side?”
Arthur latched on to her words. “How do you know that I talked to him?” Arthur asked.
“Elena called,” Morgana said slowly. “She told me you had a rather long conversation with Mr. Mitothin. And that after it, you came out of the office looking positively irritated about something.”
“Fine, you know what? If you’re going to act clueless, I’m going to leave. I don’t have the time or energy to get you to see that you, Morgana, are on the wrong side.”
Morgana’s green eyes sparked. “That boy was no boy. He wasn’t even human. The crime isn’t as bad as you make it seem. It was more like killing an alien. I did it for the sake of humanity!” She exclaimed.
Arthur was startled and dismayed that Morgana believed in her conviction so strongly when it was a lie.
“That’s what they have made you think, but I’m sorry, Morgana - I can’t see you as a sister of mine if you’re okay with killing a child who has done nothing to you personally. I remember who I truly am, and I will kill myself hundred times over before I side with the Dark,” Arthur said fiercely. “Good bye, Morgana.”
He moved toward the door, but Morgana’s parting words sent a tendril of uncertainty within him.
“No one leaves the Black Rider’s presence unscathed, Arthur. You may think that you’ve been left unaffected, but only time will tell,” she threatened smoothly.
Arthur clenched his jaw, his fists tight on either side of him. He didn’t deign to answer her. He just opened the door and left, shutting the door behind him.
Morgana didn’t know what she was saying. He wouldn’t let her words get to him. He felt the same. There was no way…the Rider couldn’t have done anything to him.
Arthur didn’t want to consider the possibility that this Lord of the Dark was capable of subtly manipulating him, so that even Arthur himself didn’t recognize it. That maybe the Rider wanted Arthur to be complacent, to believe he was still on the side of the Light. The thought made Arthur a little paranoid, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
He had to find a way to get in contact with Merlin’s Uncle Stephen. Arthur had a feeling this Stephen had a connection with the Light. If the Rider appeared to hate the man, then clearly that meant Stephen was an enemy of the Dark.
Like that boy, Will Stanton, had been…
Arthur thought it was horrible that even the life of a child could not be spared during these dark times. What was the world coming to?
~ * ~
Freya sat by Will’s bedside. She checked his pulse again, for what was the third time in the space of a few minutes. She felt anxious because he hadn’t woken up.
“Why isn’t he coming back to life, Mr. Emrys?” She asked Merlin’s uncle.
Merlin’s uncle, Stephen Emrys, had graying hair, a man well on in the middle of his years. But his blue eyes were just as inquisitive, just as vibrant as they’d been in his younger days. He wore a dark suit with a pale grey vest underneath, always the picture of propriety. But the strangest thing about him was the skintight dark leather gloves he wore most of the time.
“Merriman said it’s because he’s so young, his powers aren’t as strong as they could be,” Stephen explained to Freya, resting a gloved hand on the back of her chair. “He won’t come back to life as quickly as a consequence. But he will wake up. There is no doubt about that. Though having his immortality tested when he’s still a child, in a sense, will take a toll on him. But sometimes, we learn strength through weakness.”
“It’s horrible,” Freya remarked. “Especially with what’s happening now…it’s the worse time for him to die.”
“There’s nothing more that the Dark wants now is to ‘poke a hole’ in our efforts,” Stephen said.
“I see your way with words has not changed, Stephen,” Merriman said drily, a slight smile on his face, as he entered the room. He was holding a vial of a pale liquid.
“Merriman,” Stephen said with a nod.
“What is that you’re holding?” Freya asked him.
“Ah, this is just a restorative for my Will there,” Merriman explained to them. “He should wake soon. I think it best if I’m the only one in the room. I don’t want him to be startled during such a moment…”
“I understand. But my nephew, Merlin, he’s all right?” Stephen inquired, sounding concerned but his words laced with a sense of urgency.
“Yes. He’s outside Time now. He hasn’t remembered yet, but those are tricky matters. You cannot force it. Bran has taken a shine to him though,” Merriman noted, giving a small smile. “But it is not your nephew I am worried about,” he added grimly.
“Who is it?” Freya was curious to know.
“It’s best not to name names now. And it’s nearing time. If it’s all the same to you,” Merriman said, giving the other two significant looks.
“Of course. Come along, Freya.”
As the two of them left the room, Merriman said, “Thank you, Stephen, Freya.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Stephen said while Freya smiled in response.
The two of them departed from the room, leaving Merriman alone with Will.
~ * ~
Merlin woke up to find his bed empty.
Bran burst into his room. He had a smile on his face. “Good morning, Merlin. Will’s all right. The Lady told me so,” he said breathlessly.
“The Lady?” Merlin uttered, puzzled.
Then a small, old woman with strangely young-looking eyes entered his room. She wore a blue dress that brought out the blue in her eyes. Merlin had the sense that this woman was more than just a woman. She wasn’t an Old One, no; she had to be beyond that. Beyond any power…
“Hello, Merlin,” The Lady said, her voice soft yet pleasantly bell-like too. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
She held out her thin hand to him, and he shook it. On one finger, there was a ring with a rose-coloured stone. Merlin felt a warm feeling of peace and calm in her presence.
After the handshake, Merlin asked, “Who are you exactly? Bran said you’re the Lady.”
“I have lived a very long time, Merlin, and have gone by many names. You may simply call me the Lady. You have been told about the High Magic?”
Merlin nodded. “Are you a part of that?”
“I speak for the will of the High Magic on occasion, yes.”
“Merriman calls her ‘Madam’,” Bran pointed out.
Merlin thought if a 4,000 year old man deferred to someone like that, then clearly that meant this woman was very old, and very powerful as well.
“You have a Sign of Fire on you, Merlin,” she told him gently.
“What?”
“On your forearm. There you are,” she informed him. She pulled up his sleeve and swept her hand on the inside of his forearm.
Merlin was surprised to see a small quarter crossed circle appear on his forearm. It was a smooth white, looking well-healed like it had been a long ago burn.
“Oh, I didn’t even know who had that,” Bran remarked, peering at the sign.
“I didn’t know either,” Merlin mused, looking questioningly at the Lady. “Where did it come from?”
“Your Uncle Stephen gave it to you when you were very young. I do feel it best if Stephen would tell you his part in this troubling time, but it is better for you to know as soon as possible.”
“He didn’t tell me exactly what he’s caught up in, but is he working for the Light? But he’s just a man, is he?”
“Yes, your uncle is just a man, but a good man at heart, which we can’t have enough of when the Dark comes Rising. Stephen swore his services to the Light years ago. He is now one of the leaders for the Resistance, those who are fighting against the Dark in your reality. The Sign of Fire, which is a Sign of the Light as well, is meant as a symbol of protection for you. It has served you well, though you were unaware of its existence.”
“I wish I had met him earlier…although I haven’t actually seen him. He just calls or writes me. I don’t understand…”
Merlin noticed that not only the Lady but Bran too held an unhappy expression.
“Your uncle has his own struggles like any man,” she said, a touch of sadness in her voice as she spoke. “I don’t wish to speak for him as that is his place, but he may think that if he saw you, then he’d have to tell you everything. As you are his kin, and it is your right to know. But how he communicates with you now creates a barrier.”
“So he would feel less guilty about not telling me,” Merlin decided with a sigh. Then he thought - if his uncle had doings with the Light, what about his father? “What about my father? Was he involved in the same way as my uncle? They were brothers after all. I know he disappeared, but I don’t know more than that.”
“Like your uncle, your father was involved with the Light,” The Lady confirmed. “I am sure if your mother knew what he was doing, she wouldn’t have let him do it. But he wanted to insure that the Dark was defeated in Bran’s reality. So your father chose to aid the Light. It was for your sake, I believe, to make sure that your reality was safer.”
Merlin was grateful to finally know what had happened to his father; but it still hurt that he hadn’t gotten the chance to know him. That his father had given up his life for a good cause, but he had paid the price of never getting the opportunity to watch Merlin grow up. And his mother had no clue while his uncle hadn’t told Merlin the truth. Maybe because he didn’t believe at the time that Merlin would believe it?
After all, this ordeal between the Light and the Dark was not something everyone could comprehend. Merlin wasn’t sure if he would’ve written his uncle off as being half-mad if he had delved into the truth.
Also, this was quite possibly the worst time to discover the truth of his father’s disappearance. Of course he’d find out about during an apocalypse. Merlin knew that to truly resolve this, he needed to discuss the matter properly with his uncle. But for now, he had to focus on dealing with the end of the world. It was what his father would have wanted, for Merlin to do what he could to help.
“Because if the Dark loses in one reality, they’ll have less chance of gaining control of another reality…” Merlin concluded slowly. Wasn’t that what they were doing now but in reverse? Now they were attempting to defeat the Dark to prevent them from making a second try in the reality they’d lost in. “Wait, but…is this the same battle that happened a year ago for you, Bran?”
“Yes,” Bran confirmed. “It wasn’t long ago for me, but from your uncle’s perspective…it has been a little over two decades. To the Light and the Dark, Time isn’t linear…since they can both travel in Time, there is less of a restriction. It is stupid, in my opinion, for the Dark to make a try in your reality after their recent total defeat in ours,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“Is this like real life Doctor Who then? With the time travel?”
“Oh, the bloke with the long scarf?” Bran asked.
“Er yeah…” Merlin said slowly. Back in the ‘70s, he thought to himself, feeling miffed.
Now he had a bowtie and sometimes wore a fez.
The Lady looked understandably bemused at the turn of conversation. “I’ll be leaving now,” she cut in smoothly. “Will is with Merriman at your uncle’s, Merlin. He’ll return here soon. He will be fine,” she reassured them, smiling.
Once the Lady left the room, Bran looked to Merlin. “The Lady only told me that Will had been hurt. But it has to be something really bad for Merriman to be involved.”
“I’m sure he’ll tell you when he returns,” Merlin told him confidently.
He doubted Will could keep whatever had really happened from Bran. Anyway, Bran definitely seemed to be the type to be good at getting information out of someone - just by the force of his personality alone.
“Of course he will,” Bran agreed. “Are you all right though?” he asked of him in concern. “After finding out about your father?”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it,” Merlin assured him, giving him a small smile. Then changing the subject swiftly, he asked in curiosity, “Now what is this about the Doctor with the long scarf? That’s Tom Baker…that was decades ago.”
Bran looked amused. “Oh well, actually…my and Will’s present day is 1978, so he’s the current Doctor in our time.”
Merlin stared at him. “Seriously? And you didn’t think to tell me this before?”
“Sorry…it must have slipped my mind,” Bran remarked, looking a bit sheepish. “What about you? Your current year is 2011, isn’t it? What Doctor are you on?”
“The Eleventh Doctor. He wears a bowtie.”
Bran let out a breath. “Wow. You’re already on double digits!”
“Did you know Tom Baker was pretty much high in almost every episode during his run?” Merlin pointed out to him.
Bran frowned. “And how is that a bad thing?” He argued.
“Well, he is still considered one of the most popular Doctors even in my time,” Merlin conceded. “So I guess it wasn’t a bad thing exactly. Bad for his health, maybe.”
“Scarf beats a bowtie, I think,” Bran decided.
Merlin was hit by another memory flash then.
“Your neckerchiefs are completely ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur had said to him, and proceeded to remove the offending blue neckerchief from his neck.
Merlin shook his head. These memory flashes felt disorienting and he dearly wished he’d get a full memory return. Recalling bits and pieces out of order didn’t help much at all.
“We should make a pro and con list of our respective Doctors,” Bran announced.
Merlin thought it was a welcome relief to have the somber mood lifted after last night’s worry about Will.
Not long into their endeavor, Gwen and Lancelot found them arguing amicably. The couple soon joined in after they learned what they were discussing.
~ * ~
“Hullo,” Will said cheerfully enough to Stephen and Freya who came into the room.
He was sitting up in bed, in the midst of drinking tea. He set down the cup. Will looked too pale as if he had undergone a devastating illness instead of being shot to death. He looked tired, but otherwise in a good mood as he smiled.
“Stephen, I expect you to make sure he doesn’t get carried away,” Merriman said to him, giving him a significant look.
“Of course,” Stephen said.
“I’m not going to confront the Dark, Merriman. I do have sense,” Will assured him, though his voice sounded oddly adult. It wasn’t the words of a child defending himself, but more of someone older who deeply comprehended the gravity of the situation and knew what he shouldn’t do.
Merriman pat Will on the head in an intimate gesture, as a father would do to his child. Will smiled quietly at him.
“Yes, I know that,” Merriman acknowledged softly. “But you are still young and prone to believe in your invincibility. You will be physically weak for some time, so you should make sure to take it easy,” Merriman advised him firmly.
Will nodded, his expression solemn.
“Oh, I remember when I was your age,” Freya spoke up. “There was this really deep lake, and I was dared to dive into it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the best swimmer. It’s a miracle I survived that.”
“One time I hurt my arm after falling a few feet in the Welsh mountains…” Will told her. “Although that wasn’t completely my fault. The mountain shrugged, literally, and I lost my balance. It was the Dark’s way of telling me to go away.”
“They can do that?” Freya uttered. “That’s terrible. If you had fallen further, I can’t imagine…”
“Yes, they can. The Dark have their own tricks to manipulate and sometimes, it may not even be enough to be wary,” Merriman said, a note of weariness in his tone.
“You are planning to return to the others, right?” Stephen asked of Will.
“There’s somewhere else I need to go first,” Will informed him. “But that shouldn’t take long. And the Lady is at the Sanctuary, so they know I’m all right.”
“Stephen, I think it would be best if you contact Arthur,” Merriman directed him. “I expect he’s aware of you by now. Will needs to focus on his recovery. If you can bring him here, then I’ll take him to the Sanctuary.”
“I’ll get that taken care of,” Stephen said, nodding.
“Why don’t you just go to him, Merriman?” Freya wondered.
Will’s lips quirked into an amused smile, but he didn’t speak.
“My dear girl, you see, I can be a bit shy,” Merriman joked lightly.
“Quite the enigma, Merriman is,” Stephen put in.
Merriman appeared rather unaffected by the comment, as if used to others being perplexed by him.
~ * ~
Apparently everyone had gone mad, Arthur decided. Those who seemed to know about Merlin’s uncle kept talking about how he had the ‘hands of the devil’ and how you wouldn’t want to be near him if he had his gloves off.
As far as finding out where Stephen Emrys exactly lived, no one knew. It was in a secret location, or maybe his residence was magically hidden.
So Arthur, frustrated and tired with it all, thought it would be a good idea to get a drink or two. To loosen up a bit.
He knew his limit, and he was sure he’d gone over it as he downed shot after shot. But the world was ending, Gwen, Lancelot and Merlin were nowhere to be found, Gwaine and Elena were participating in a life-killing programme, and Morgana was someone he’d really rather not think about now.
Simply put, Arthur was stuck in a rut. He didn’t know what to do and even at work, he felt like he was on automatic, going through the motions. It was almost painful.
And there was this pretty woman at the bar. She had light brown hair and hazel, no, green eyes; but it was odd because Arthur felt like he should know this woman, but something…something made her seem like a stranger to him. He didn’t know what to make of her. But he was in the mood, so he couldn’t resist flirting with her for a bit.
She offered him a drink. Everything inside of him screamed against accepting the drink, but he was drunk and didn’t much care. It was only a drink, anyway. The woman had seemed trustworthy, and so Arthur drank it.
What happened after that, Arthur couldn’t quite recall.
~ * ~
“This will get me out of the organ donation programme, right?” Morgana wanted to confirm.
“It has only been a day, and you’re so sure you’re pregnant?” The Black Rider asked her, appearing amused.
“Yes, I know I am,” Morgana told him confidently. “And hopefully if the drink has worked as you said it would, Arthur won’t remember what I did with him.”
“Very well. We will check you out to make sure, and then we can proceed with the arrangement. We will send you, oh, thirteen years into the past to have the child there,” the Rider told her.
“But the programme?” Morgana asked again.
“We won’t have need of you once you give birth to the child,” the Rider said dismissively.
“Every child needs a mother. You need me. I’m more use to you with all my organs intact,” Morgana argued.
The Rider stroked his chin. “You may have a good point. Too much trouble finding someone else to look after the child. As long as you allow the Dark to have a strong influence in the child’s life.”
Morgana nodded. “Of course,” she said. “I’m sure the child will come to see you as a father,” she assured him.
The Rider clasped his hands, looking inordinately pleased. “It would be a great boon for us to have Mordred. If the Light has that little pale freak, then we deserve something too. And after being reprimanded for halting travel between outside Time and Earth, I certainly can use this happy news at the moment,” he mused, smiling a twisted smile.
~ * ~
Will found Bran’s birth father in the sitting room within the castle. The silver-circled castle at the back of the North Wind, among the apple trees, he thought. It was where Bran would have gone if he hadn’t decided to remain on Earth.
The fire was crackling merrily in the hearth. King Arthur, now a Lord of the High Magic, looked much the same as the last time Will had seen him. He had a strong, noble sun-tanned face and vibrant blue eyes. His hair was brown and lightly streaked with grey though his beard was fully grey. Will recalled when he had first seen him, how despite this lord being a man in the middle of his years, he still had the vigour of a young man and the wisdom of an old one.
There was a quiet authority about Bran’s true father. It was as if he was well-aware of his importance and was confident in the knowledge, but he didn’t carry the pomp that others of high standing were wont to do.
Will smiled quietly when Arthur noticed his presence. He nodded to the older man. “My Lord,” he said solemnly.
“Ah, Old One, it is good to see you. You should sit down. You’re not looking well,” he said, peering at him in concern.
“I’m all right,” Will declared steadily. He sat down in the vacant seat across from Arthur.
“Merriman told me what transpired,” Arthur informed him. “Terrible business, the apocalypse. Merriman had waited so long for the final battle, and now the Dark is having a try in another reality so soon after that. As you can imagine, Merriman is not happy about it.”
“I know. I see how grumpy he is about the whole matter. He was looking to retire in peace and now this is happening. But Merriman is dealing with it as best as he can. Certainly helps that I’m the one in charge now. It is my duty after all,” Will said with a sigh.
“A burden that I hope will not weigh you down. I do expect you to come here to hasten your recovery. I would think there’s no better place,” Arthur remarked, pride in his voice.
“I intend to come here, yes,” Will agreed.
“Now what is the true reason of your visit? It has to do with my son, Bran, doesn’t it?” Arthur asked him.
Will nodded. “This is the second time he has been called in the fight against the Dark, as you well know. I talked this over with Bran and we decided that a concession be made. Since this second calling was unexpected, and it’s not fair to Bran to forget again for the rest of his life.”
“Do not think I see that you hold some bias in these matters,” Bran’s father said knowingly. “But I understand what you are saying. An adjustment needs to be made.”
“What if, what if…” Will paused, worried that once he gave his idea, that there was the chance it would be denied. And then what could he do? “What if he forgets for only a period of time, and he remembers when he’s of age, so to speak?” He suggested.
Arthur smiled, appearing to like the idea. “I will see what can be done, but understand, I am just one lord, Old One. I am not all powerful.”
“Yes, I know, My Lord,” Will said quickly. “But Bran thinks he could deal with that. Though his first choice is not to forget again at all, but this is a delicate matter.”
“Have you considered that one reason he chose to remain on Earth and forget was because you would remain as well?” Arthur said shrewdly.
“Oh,” Will only said, realizing that he hadn’t really considered that before.
But it made sense. Bran had known Will would stay on Earth in his lonely task as the Watchman of the Light. If Bran had left to retire with his birth father, King Arthur, outside Time in this castle… then it would be a long time before he would see Will again. And Will would live his immortal life on Earth, waiting until the day that he too could retire outside Time with his fellow Old Ones.
Thinking of it like that, Will decided he’d take Bran forgetting about the Light and the Dark, his identity as the Pendragon, and Will’s true nature as an Old One…because despite what Bran could forget, he would still remember the most important thing, that Will Stanton was a strange English boy who was his friend. That’s what truly mattered in the end.
King Arthur saw that Will was coming to a realization. He looked pleased as he saw Will smile to himself. “Now -- I would like to hear how my son is doing,” he asked of Will.
As the strong fire warmed the room, Will was all too happy to tell him.
~ * ~
Arthur was spared the effort of finding Merlin’s uncle when a petite blonde woman by the name of Alice came by his home in a small silver vehicle. She said that she would take him to Stephen’s residence as it was, as Arthur figured, tricky to find and get to. Arthur had asked if Alice was Stephen’s wife, as she looked middle-aged, though she seemed to be the type to age gracefully.
She had said no, that she was simply a close friend of Stephen’s. Apparently, Arthur learned, Merlin’s uncle had never married. As he’d expected, Stephen did have something to do with the Light. He was one of the leaders of the Resistance against the Dark. That because Merlin’s uncle had sworn his services to the Light, the Dark couldn’t touch him…he didn’t have the compulsion to participate in the programme.
No wonder the Black Rider couldn’t stand the man.
Stephen lived in an impressive manor in the country; the grounds were expansive and well-kept. Arthur thought it odd that he couldn’t quite remember the directions to the manor from his place. Alice assured him that was the trick of the manor, that anyone visiting wouldn’t be able to recall the directions. Unless you knew how to outwit the trick, which only a few knew how to do.
After seeing that the inside of the manor was just as grand as the outside, Arthur soon found himself in Stephen’s study.
“Hello, Arthur,” Stephen said with a smile, his gloved hands clasped in front of him. He motioned with a hand, directing him to take a seat at the empty chair across from him. Arthur did.
“Hi. You’re Merlin’s uncle then? A bit elusive, I’ve heard,” Arthur remarked.
“Yes, unfortunately, that has to be the case. But I am glad you’re here,” Stephen said.
“This may seem forward," Arthur began a bit uneasily, "but I was wondering what people mean about you having the ‘hands of the devil’? That if you take your gloves off, something bad could happen. I think it sounds bollocks, but--” Arthur stopped, feeling like it was a bad idea to bring this up.
Stephen frowned, but before he could say a word, a dark-haired young woman walked quickly into the room. She gave Arthur a cursory glance before looking to Stephen.
“Mr. Emrys, Merriman’s left. He told me there’s an urgent matter he needs to deal with. He said he wasn’t sure what it was, but well…urgent isn’t exactly indicative of a good thing. Will’s going to come instead,” she informed the older man. She turned to Arthur then. “I’m Freya, by the way. Merlin’s friend. You must be Arthur, right?”
Arthur nodded. “Nice to meet you, Freya,” he said, standing up to shake her hand. She shook it while at the same time, she swept back a stray lock of her hair back behind her ear.
She looked like she had run to the study, but she had a smile on her face for Arthur.
“Why I am not surprised Merriman has left,” Stephen noted. “He’s always going off somewhere,” he mused to himself.
“Wait. Will as in Will Stanton?” Arthur asked, confused, as he sat back down. “The boy who died?”
“Will’s immortal…” Freya told him slowly. She looked strangely at Arthur as if wondering why he didn’t know that. Then she corrected herself, “Though dying for the first time has physically weakened him a bit. He has to take things slow with walking and that sort of thing. But he is alive.”
“I think it’s best if I tell you about the Old Ones of the Light, Arthur,” Stephen decided.
Arthur listened intently as Stephen explained who the Old Ones were to him.
~ * ~
“Hello, Arthur. It’s good to finally see you,” Will greeted him when he came.
Arthur thought the boy might faint at any moment. He looked so pale and just tired, like he’d be better off resting in bed. But Will seemed to be doing his best job at hiding his weakness, an amicable expression gracing his face.
“I’ll get to see the others then? You’ll take me to them?” Arthur assumed.
“Yes, I’ll take you to them,” he assured Arthur.
“Oh Will,” Stephen said, “I know you have that system in place at the Sanctuary, but I thought…this is just some of my nephew’s things he might like. And I have something for you and Bran as well,” he told him, giving him the suitcase that was behind his desk.
Will opened the suitcase. He grinned as he surveyed the contents. He looked to Stephen. “I’m sure Bran will love what you got him. And thank you for the book. It’s just what I was looking for,” he said gratefully.
“Not a problem. Just showing that I do listen,” Stephen joked lightly.
“Who’s Bran?” Arthur wondered.
“He’s a very good friend of mine,” Will told him. “You’ll find out the rest at the Sanctuary. Also, you won’t need to worry about food at the Sanctuary because you won’t feel hungry while you’re there. You could eat if you want to, to keep a sense of normalcy, but you don’t need to. We mostly have food and drink for when you need to return to Earth and your body readjusts and you’re hungry again. So it’s best to eat carbohydrates for the energy you’ll need. We have clothes for each person, but if you would like to bring some of your own, we can stop by your home. There’s a bathroom attached to each room as well…we have a laundry room too, but after Bran kicked the washer one time, it’s started acting funny,” Will warned, his lips quirking in amusement.
“Funny as in how?” Arthur asked, raising his brow.
Will shrugged. “Seems to do different things for different people. It will still wash clothes properly though. Just be on the look out for odd designs on your clothes or for your whites to turn yellow…”
“Great,” Arthur said drily.
“We should go then,” Will announced.
Arthur remembered something and turned back to Stephen. “I have these two friends, Gwaine and Elena, who are under the compulsion… If you could do anything to help them, I’d really appreciate it,” he said sincerely.
“Of course. I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for letting me know,” Stephen told Arthur.
Arthur nodded at him.
“Good luck you two,” Stephen wished them.
Arthur left with Will.
~ * ~
Merlin smiled when Arthur entered his room.
“Feeling overwhelmed?” He asked Arthur.
Merlin tried not to think about those dreams he’d been having of Arthur. But it was terribly hard considering Arthur was here in the flesh. He finally had the chance to meet him properly.
Arthur nodded, rubbing his brow to that effect. He sat down beside Merlin on the bed.
Arthur looked carefully at Merlin. “You haven’t remembered yet?” He guessed.
“No I haven’t. You have?” Merlin ventured.
“Yeah. I was hoping once you’d see me…but still nothing?” Arthur said, feeling a bit desperate.
It would be so much easier if Merlin would just remember. Arthur wasn’t in the best of moods after Bran, with Will in the room, informed Arthur straight that he was a pale imitation of his birth father.
Once Arthur had left the room, he could hear Will and Bran arguing in what he was sure was Welsh.
That had certainly left Arthur with the sinking feeling it would take some work to get Bran to like him. At best now, the boy tolerated him.
One good thing was that Arthur had finally found out who he’d been possessed by - a version of himself from an alternate reality. According to Bran, a much better Arthur…but considering the other Arthur was his birth father, of course Bran would be biased. And Bran appeared to have the tendency to get defensive a lot, and he definitely wasn’t one to back down.
The boy would probably be the death of him.
“I have been getting odd flashes of memories and I’ve been having dreams…er, with you in them,” Merlin confided in him, blushing a bit in embarrassment.
Arthur quirked his eyebrow. “Really, Merlin? Care to share them in detail?” He asked slyly.
Merlin gave him a look. “Not a chance,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry though that you’ve remembered while I haven’t. Lancelot and Gwen haven’t remembered either. But with you here, maybe that’ll help us,” he said hopefully.
Arthur muttered his agreement, leaning toward Merlin and placing his hand strategically on Merlin’s upper thigh.
“What if physical contact is the key?” Arthur ventured.
“I don’t know…you may remember, but to me, I’ve just met you, Arthur,” Merlin reminded him.
Arthur smiled. “But you’ve met me in your dreams. Surely that counts?” He teased.
“Okay…well, we could try,” Merlin agreed. “But I should let you know… I’m a virgin.”
Arthur thought Merlin looked like he wanted to cover his head with a brown paper bag.
“What about when you remember, I can see to despoiling you,” Arthur offered, looking highly amused.
Merlin groaned. “I hate you,” he told him without much heat. “But yeah, that would be good. I just, I want to do it properly if it’s with you. I want to remember all of you. That sounds stupid. I don’t know. You know what I mean.”
“I do,” Arthur said, then because he couldn’t resist, he kissed Merlin.
Merlin proved receptive to the kiss, his lips were soft, and he opened his mouth slightly. Arthur lightly teased his tongue inside Merlin’s mouth and Merlin let out a moan as their tongues collided. Merlin lay back down on the bed as Arthur moved on top of him.
Arthur broke away from Merlin for a moment. “Do you remember yet?” He asked.
“Patience is a virtue,” Merlin only said in a slightly annoying singsong voice. He grinned at Arthur mischievously. “Shut up and kiss me,” he ordered.
Arthur was all too ready to oblige him.
~ * ~
When Arthur went to sleep that night in his room, which was nicely located next to Merlin’s, he almost wished he hadn’t gone to sleep.
The dream had started out pleasant enough. Merlin was in the dream, lying on the bed, naked and looking completely relaxed as he had his full attention on Arthur. His blue eyes had a daring, mischievous sparkle to them.
Arthur surveyed Merlin before him, carefully, wanting to drink all of him in.
He started kissing his neck, hitting the pulse point, and then…
Arthur felt fangs extend from his mouth. Like a vampire of all things. And his fangs latched onto Merlin’s neck, drinking blood from him.
He was horrified at what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself in the dream.
Arthur woke up by sheer force of will before he could see if the dream would end in Merlin’s death.
What the hell…? Why had he dreamed that he was a bloody vampire? Was this the work of that Lord of the Dark? Was this how Arthur was being affected?
Arthur checked his teeth and he thought they all felt normal. He didn’t feel an unusual thirst for blood either. Maybe it would just remain a bad dream. Though he worried what else the Black Rider had in store to mess with him.
~ * ~
The next day, Arthur saw Gwen and Lancelot in the lounge area. He had already reunited with them the previous day. He was curious to know where Merlin was since he wasn’t in his room that morning. Arthur had debated about seeing Merlin after that horrible dream, but a niggling part of him wanted to make sure Merlin was all right. Seeing Merlin losing life in front of him, as a result of his actions, had made Arthur rather anxious.
“Hey, Gwen, Lancelot,” Arthur said to them. “Do you know where Merlin is?” He asked them as he sat down.
“Good morning, Arthur,” Gwen said with a smile. Lancelot said the same. “Merlin has gone with Bran to Will and Bran’s reality. I think it has to do with getting more food. Will said we might need more. There are some other things they need to get too. And since their reality doesn’t have the Dark, it’s safer to spend time there.”
“Right…” Arthur said. “Merlin and Bran are getting along well then?” He concluded.
“Oh yes, very well. Merlin gets the chance to play the big brother. It’s sweet,” Gwen noted.
Arthur frowned.
“Not happy about it, mate?” Lancelot put in knowingly.
“No, no. I get it. Bran’s not had an easy life and I just got here. I understand if bonds have been formed already. I’m not going to throw a tantrum about it,” Arthur said reasonably.
“The fact you’re even mentioning throwing one…” Lancelot noted wryly.
“I’ll just shut up now,” Arthur grumbled.
“Anyway, so Will’s not at the Sanctuary either. He’s gone somewhere else for his recovery. Poor boy,” Gwen said sympathetically. “But there are usually other Old Ones about this place. They don’t show themselves too often, but you can sort of sense that they’re there. Merriman might be here.”
“He had an urgent matter to deal with. He might still be wrapped up with that,” Arthur figured. “I haven’t met him yet.”
“So it’s still only Lancelot and me who’ve met him. That’s odd,” Gwen remarked.
“I think we both know why that’s the case,” Lancelot said to Gwen. They exchanged secretive looks with each other.
“What does it matter if I see Merriman or not?” Arthur interjected, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“No reason!” Gwen answered quickly. “And it’s best you know this sooner rather than later… but as a part of ending this apocalypse…”
“…you have to pull Excalibur out of a stone,” Lancelot finished.
“Oh, well, that sounds completely original,” Arthur commented drily. “And what’s the catch?”
“The location, Arthur… it’s in the Dark’s stronghold,” Lancelot told him unhappily. “Somehow they got a hold of it. Gwen and I will help you get to the sword and I think we’ll have Merlin’s magic to help us too.”
“Is Merlin coming?”
He shook his head. “It’s too risky,” Lancelot said. “There’s the chance the Dark will trap Merlin and find a way to drain his magic. And the last thing we need is the Dark having Merlin’s magic at their disposal. But luckily there is a way for us to ‘siphon’ some of Merlin’s magic from him. That way he could remain where it’s safer for him.”
“Merlin hates being stuck here. That’s why he jumped at the chance to go with Bran to the other reality,” Gwen explained. Then she amended, “Actually, Bran chose Merlin to go with him.”
Arthur considered the pros and cons of banging his head against the wall.
On the upside, he looked forward to getting Excalibur back.
~ * ~
In Bran’s reality in the year 1978, he and Merlin had parted ways, planning to meet later to eat. Bran wondered if maybe they should have stuck together. But still, he felt like this was something he should take care of on his own. So with that thought, he slipped into an alleyway. He had sensed someone who should not exist, and yet the person did. But as to the purpose of the person being here in this reality and time, Bran couldn't say.
“I know who you are,” Bran said, no doubt in his words or thought.
The dark-haired boy looked the same age as him. His blue eyes glittered with intent as he surveyed Bran. “Do you? And here I don’t feel surprised,” the boy said with a lazy smile.
Bran stepped away from him. “You should leave now. I won’t listen to anything you have to say.”
“Oh, I have nothing against you. I just want to talk,” the boy said casually. “We are alike in some ways. Our respective birth fathers carry the same name and we both grew up in a time not our own. But where you were born as a freak of nature--”
“You’re an affront to nature,” Bran shot back viciously.
The boy smiled. “You should be grateful, Bran Davies, that we are from different realities. That you are still the sole holder of your blessed birthright,” he said sarcastically.
“If you’re not going to tell me what your business is here, then you should just go,” Bran told him.
But the boy did not leave. He kept smiling and it honestly worried Bran. He closed the distance between him and Bran, and he reached out, grabbing hold of Bran’s forearm.
“Let me go,” Bran demanded of him.
The boy’s grip remained strong. “You won’t scream. I just need a little something from you. You’ll live,” he assured him, though his smile was cold.
“I won’t keep quiet about you, you know that, Mordred,” Bran warned him.
“Yes, go ahead. Go tell your Old One about me. Tell him that Mordred said hello,” Mordred said with a smug smile. “Now hold still,” he told Bran.
Bran tried to pull away from him when Mordred took out a dagger and a vial.
“What are you doing?” Bran wanted to know.
He tried to wrestle out of Mordred’s grip.
“I said, hold still, or I will have to knock you out.”
Bran stilled, not particularly wanting to be knocked out.
“Good,” Mordred commented when Bran had stopped fighting. “I told you I don’t plan to kill you,” he reminded him.
“And I’m not going to believe you for one moment,” Bran retorted.
Mordred shrugged. He took the dagger and cut into Bran’s palm. Bran started glowing a strange white light as blood welled up in his palm. Mordred took the vial and collected enough blood to fill it.
Once he was done, closing the vial afterwards, Mordred healed the cut on Bran’s palm. The glow coming from Bran subsided and was soon gone.
“You’re welcome,” Mordred said, meaning for the healing he’d done. He put away the vial and the dagger in his jacket pocket.
“Go to hell,” Bran only said. He ripped his arm away from Mordred’s now loosened grip.
“What did you need my blood for?” Bran asked him, but he doubted Mordred would answer him truthfully if at all.
Mordred got into his personal space again. He touched Bran’s cheek, almost gently.
“Don’t touch me,” Bran said to him forcefully. “Go be weird somewhere else.”
“He will abandon you. That is their nature,” Mordred told him quietly, moving his finger along Bran’s lips.
Bran’s golden eyes flashed in clear anger and he moved away from him. Then before Mordred could say another word, Bran punched him in the face.
“You don’t know anything, you rotten bastard,” he said fiercely.
Bran walked out of the alleyway. Mordred covered his face in his hands, hands coming away with blood.
Despite the hit, Mordred felt pleased. He had gotten what he had come for.
~ * ~
“Are you all right?” Merlin asked Bran, sliding into the booth across from him. He set his few bags of things, mostly food and other essentials, down beside him.
Bran was wearing his dark glasses and looking down in his cup like he was frustrated by the liquid inside of it.
Looking up, Bran shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it,” Merlin commented.
“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Bran admitted. “I ordered the pizza,” he then said.
“Okay. I was wondering…where does your father, your adoptive father, think you are?”
Bran smiled. “Oh, Will settled that. But of course he thinks I’m with Will, which isn’t far from the truth. Anyway, he’s not stupid. He always knew who my true father was. A woman named Gwen coming out of the Cader Idris, The Seat of Arthur…it’s not particularly hard to figure out. My father always had that feeling I was different, not counting my strange appearance, of course,” he added, his lips quirking into a smile.
“What is it like for you at home?” Merlin asked him.
“Well, one time I felt like I was locked up in jail,” Bran recalled. “My father is very religious, you see - he’s a deacon. I can’t go to the cinema, can’t do anything on Sundays except walk about the hills. Honestly, when Will came and I helped him to defeat the Dark, that was the most excitement I had had in a while.”
“So your father’s pretty strict with you?” Merlin deduced.
“Well now, I suppose, he’s getting better,” Bran conceded. “But still, if you want to know how I was raised, there you are… I did have this dog though. I loved him more than anything,” Bran stopped there, shaking his head. He didn’t look like he wanted to continue.
“Is the dog…?” Merlin asked quietly.
“He was shot and killed by a mad man,” Bran said bitterly, looking rather upset as he spoke.
“That’s horrible. What was the dog’s name?”
“Cafall,” Bran told him, his voice breaking a little with the pain of the loss.
Merlin reached out his hand to squeeze Bran’s. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.
Bran returned the pressure, but he remained silent. Wisely, Merlin ventured into a lighter topic just as the pizza arrived.
~ * ~
Chapter 4