That Old Black Magic (6/9)
Title: That Old Black Magic (6/9)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Words: This part 4100
Genre: Modern AU, Action/Adventure
Rating: This part pg-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing, as per usual.
Summary: Morgana has always protected her step-brother from magical threats through the strength of her visions, but when her powers begin to fail, it's up to somebody else to save the day. Enter Arthur's new bumbling assistant, Merlin.
Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4
A/N I know, I fail at updates. I honestly don't know where my time goes :/ Sorry about the wait! I'll try very hard to get the next one up quicker, and it's the chap I've been most looking forward to writing, so hopefull it can be written pretty sharpish. Thanks to everyone who's still with the story, I have no intention of leaving it unfinished!
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That Old Black Magic
Chapter 5 - Into the Fire
“A fire?” Arthur repeats, sounding faint, his voice low and breathy. His brow creases and he pitches forward, until his forehead is pressed against the cold window, his mouth leaving a steamy imprint on its surface. “That’s them, isn’t it?! It’s them!”
“Them?” Merlin croaks in questioning, before he can stop himself. His mouth is working faster than his brain, which is still stuck on a continual loop of, ‘You’re fired! You’re fired!’
“The ones that hurt Morgana!” Arthur cries, almost automatically. He turns on a heel, quicker than Merlin has ever seen him, and bolts for the door, determination lined on his features. He’s an inch away from the exit, with Merlin watching in complete astonishment, before his assistant finally jolts to life.
“What?!” he yelps, eyes flashing in alarm. “No!”
Arthur stumbles backwards, as though hit by an invisible shield, and lets out a cry. He whirls back towards his ex-assistant, eyes wide and disbelieving, breath coming out in short sharp pants. “What?!” His fists curl. “What was that?!”
Merlin shakes his head, mouth opening soundlessly. What could he say?!
“Magic!” Arthur croaks. “That was magic!”
Merlin recoils in shook, eyes wide, and pants heavily through his teeth. Arthur knows about magic?! Since when?! He’s an ordinary businessmen, with a big office and a red Ferrari, and a strange addiction to heavily sugared caffeine. Just a normal living, breathing human being. Right?!
“Um, what?” is all he manages to croak out in response. Because it just seems unfathomable, Arthur knowing about magic. And it seems unfathomable that he could have missed it. Wasn’t he supposed to sense important things like this?!
“You used magic,” Arthur reiterates, sounding almost as disbelieving as Merlin feels. Which isn’t actually particularly reassuring. “Morgana was right.” He raises a finger, stabbing it viciously, and recovers enough from his shock to look accusing once more; Merlin is hardly surprised, Arthur’s nothing if not persistent. “You were the one who did this to her!”
“No,” Merlin blurts, holding up his hands in a useless sort of protest. “No!” He breathes heavily, trying to regain some sort of control, but is unable to hold back the twinge of desperation that creeps into his voice. “You must understand - I’m just trying to help!”
“Help?!” Arthur repeats, sounding faint and disbelieving. He staggers away from Merlin, looking pale and ghostly in the dim light, the dark rings circling his eyes betraying his despair and frustration; it looks strange, combined with the usual brightness of his classic good-looks. “Am I supposed to believe that?” He takes in a rattling breath. “All along, Morgana was right: You are magic!”
“Good - good magic!” Merlin cries, waving his arms empathically and suppressing the urge to wince as Arthur recoils automatically at the action. “I do good! I’ve been trying to protect you! I didn’t do this - whoever created that fire is doing this!”
Arthur shakes his head violently, and he seems unable to look his ex-assistant in the eye, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. It’s unnerving to see - Arthur is usually so unflappable, so in control, but all he looks now is lost and confused, as though his world has just been tilted on it’s axis.
“Morgana said you were not to be trusted,” he mutters, sounding bewildered, like he can’t quite believe that she was actually right. He stumbles backwards slightly, like his legs are incapable of holding him upright, and clasps at the edge of his own desk, as though he’s hanging on for dear life.
Merlin inhales a lungful of air, eyes wide and round. “She - she knew I was magic?” he pants, Arthur’s previous words slowly registering in his brain, like a jigsaw clicking gradually into place. Morgana had known? How? Who was she?! What were they both?!
“Yes.” Arthur’s answer is short and sharp, revealing nothing, and his eyes keep flickering to the window, where the glimmering of flames are still shining in the dark. He takes a breath and seems to pull himself together slightly, the rotating expressions on his face settling into one of stony indifference - like he’s steeling himself for something. Like someone with a renewed purpose.
“How did she know?” Merlin can’t help but ask, unsure whether to be frightened or relieved that Arthur’s surprise and anger is dissolving, wondering where else it could lead.
Arthur’s eyes flicker with something like surprise, before his face settles again, looking coolly sceptical. He grits his teeth. “So you didn’t do it on purpose?”
Merlin frowns, feeling more lost than he has done in years. This wasn’t how everything was supposed to go. Why couldn’t Dragon warn him?! None of it made any sense. “Did what on purpose?” he breathes, attempting to portray his genuine confusion with as much sincerity as he’s capable of.
Arthur’s steely expression doesn’t so much as twitch. “Block Morgana’s powers.”
Merlin blinks, opens his mouth soundlessly, then blinks again. “Morgana has powers?” he mouths.
Well. That certainly explained a lot.
Arthur studies him for a moment, his gaze dark and intense, before something relaxes ever so slightly in his face. It’s like he believes Merlin is telling the truth - about that, at least. But he still crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow accusingly, looking at his assistant as though he’s never actually seen him before, hooded and on-guard.
“And so do you,” is all he says in response.
Merlin nods, a small jerk of his head, and croaks a very shaky, “Yes.” There’s simply no point is attempting to deny it now - it would only make the blond angrier.
“But you didn’t do this?” Arthur asks, waving a hand towards the window, where the flames still dance merrily in the distance, bright and gleaming - almost mocking.
“No,” Merlin replies firmly, just willing for Arthur to believe him, his expression almost painfully earnest and sincere. He prays, with every ounce of magic that he has, that his boss would at least understand that. “Honestly, I am just here to help.”
Arthur stares at him for a long moment, as Merlin’s heart pounds erratically in his chest, before he gives him a defeated nod. “Right,” Arthur says, sounding softer than he did a moment ago, sadly accepting. “Ok.” He nods again, almost to himself more than Merlin, and adds a final, “Fine.”
Merlin blinks for a second, waiting for some other response, but when none comes, blinks some more. “Wait, that’s it?” he cries, completely incredulous. He had expected Arthur to rage and storm, and possibly punch him, not accept his explanation like a reasonable human being. Arthur wasn’t reasonable - ever. “Aren’t you still angry? Upset?” He pauses for a second, before adding timidly, “Am I still fired?”
Arthur throws up his arms, looking frustrated, and snaps, “What do you want me to say, Merlin?! I’ve got bigger problems than you right now! I can’t deal with this.” He takes in several laboured breaths, but seems to get a hold of himself a second later, his strained expression settling onto something much darker, and much more stony. “If you’re right, the one who attacked Morgana conjured those flames. I have to stop them!”
“What?” Merlin squawks, sounding dangerously high-pitched in the other-wise silent office. “Are you serious?” He flails around slightly, panic creeping into his voice. “You can’t!”
“Why can’t I?!” Arthur challenges, jaw snapping. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, despite your powers, I’m the authority round here! You can’t tell me what to do!”
Merlin’s eyes boggle, and not for the first time, he wonders how such a prestigious company is run by such an utter idiot. “It’s a trap, Arthur!” he cries, pointing at the fire with a rather violent finger, sharp and accusing. “Why do you think they conjured the fire where you could see it?! Whoever it is, they’re trying to draw you in.”
Arthur’s steeled expression doesn’t so much as flicker. “I don’t care,” he snips, drawing himself up slightly, knuckles white as his fists clench themselves subconsciously. “They hurt Morgana - I have to go! There is no choice here.”
Merlin opens his mouth to argue, but recognising the fierce determination lining Arthur’s face, says nothing. He sighs, loud and longsuffering, before announcing in what he hopes is his most authoritative voice, “Alright. Fine. Then I’m coming with you.”
Arthur recoils slightly, before barking out a laugh that is dark, bitter, and humourless. “Excuse me?!” he cries, sounding disbelieving, “What?”
“It’s what I came here for, Arthur,” Merlin explains, taking in a deep breath and drawing himself up, steeling his shoulders against Arthur’s still accusing gaze. He’s come this far, and he sure as hell isn’t going to let the blond thwart him now. “To protect you - whether you believe it or not.” He shrugs. “I didn’t come here to file your paperwork.”
For a moment Arthur looks as though he’s going to argue - Merlin is expecting it, in fact - but instead spends a long minute staring at the determined lines of his assistant’s faces. He sighs, loud and pointed, but it’s tinted with defeat. “Alright, fine,” he concedes at last, “Just don’t get in my way.”
***
“So…” Merlin begins, his voice loud in the quiet of the car, where he can hear the dim noises of the bustling London streets outside, “Morgana’s powers?” He twiddles his thumbs, eager to get rid of the stifling silence, and asks, “They’re reliable?”
Arthur glances at him out of the corner of his eye, where he’s sat in the driver’s seat, and shrugs, looking almost suspicious by Merlin’s rather feeble attempt to break the ice. Arthur might have agreed to let Merlin come along for the ride - for lack of a better choice - but the dark-haired man evidently hadn’t yet been forgiven for his lies.
“I guess,” Arthur replies slowly, after a long pause, as though weighing his words with careful thought. “She’s a powerful seer.”
Merlin nods, unsure whether the blond can actually see him out the corner of his eye, and still feeling slightly thrown; the events of the day are almost too much for him to wrap his head around.
Arthur says nothing for a moment, seemingly debating with himself, before he confesses, “She’s saved me plenty of times in the past.”
Merlin blinks, surprised but pleased by the willing share of new information, and says, “Really?” in an embarrassingly eager voice. He doesn’t want to ask Arthur too much, or push him for too much information, not when the man obviously doesn’t trust him anymore, but a part of him needs to know - needs to know how this stuck-up businessman had become involved in a world of mystery, magic and utter mayhem.
“Yes.” Arthur inclines his head slightly, eyes focused on the road, bright and gleaming, as he mutters, “This has happened before. I mean, not exactly like this.” He frowns, seemingly remembering something, and adds, “But similar.”
Sensing the beginning of a story, Merlin does nothing, unwilling to break the encouraging silence and snap the blond out of his story-telling mood.
“Her name was Morgause,” Arthur says eventually, his voice small but stoitic, as though he is recalling something of no particular feeling or importance, “And she came after me, using Morgana.” He takes in a breath, his fingers clenching on the steering wheel, but shows no other signs of distress. “She led me to believe Morgana had been kidnapped, when she was in fact round at Morgause’s for tea.”
Merlin is unable to hold back his explanation of surprise, suddenly wondering if he’d misheard completely, and blurts, “Tea?!” in a loud questioning voice.
Arthur nods automatically, as though there is nothing weird about a supposed enemy sitting down with you for tea, and continues in the same bored tone as before. “Yeah - the drink,” he explains, completely rationally, like Merlin is the one asking a stupid question. “It was all very civilized.”
Merlin nods dumbly.
“So I charge in, all guns blazing,” Arthur continues, slamming on the car breaks and cursing the London traffic, even though it’s now ten at night, “and find that Morgana is fine. I find out that Morgause used my sister to lure me there. But because Morgause’s power was greater than that of Morgana’s, Morgana had no idea - she saw nothing in her visions.”
“Oh,” Merlin mouths, something from earlier registering slowly in his brain. “Is that why you accused me of blocking Morgana’s powers?”
“Yes.” Arthur glances at him for the first time in minutes, his gaze long and measured. “Did you?”
Merlin shrugs. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with Seer’s, the Dragon notwithstanding, and can’t honestly say he wasn’t the one blocking Morgana’s powers. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I might have done. But not on purpose - I think the presence of my magic alone might have blocked out her powers.”
Arthur looks as though he wants to say something, his face contorting in the dim light, but merely settles on a simple, “Oh.”
“I’m sorry?” Merlin offers weakly, and now somewhat desperate to change the subject again and rid them of the mounting awkwardness, asks, “What happened with Morgause then? In the end? Did Morgana realise she had been tricked?”
“Yes, and she felt so guilty for being fooled,” Arthur laughed, low and hollow. “She was the one who defeated Morgause though - the stupid bitch hadn’t been expecting Morgana to attack her. They had been friends, in a weird and twisted sort of way.”
“But she chose you?”
Arthur glances at him, surprised and mildly incredulous. “Yes, of course,” he replies, brow furrowed and gaze almost wistful. “She’s my sister - she’d never let me down.”
Merlin smiles, somewhat touched by the fierce protectiveness underlining Arthur’s voice at the mere mention of Morgana, and tilts his head slightly, mildly questioning. “One thing I don’t understand,” he begins, tapping his chin in what he hopes is polite interest, “Morgause, Sophia, and whoever is doing this now - why do they want you so much? There’s something about you, I can feel it, but essentially, you’re still only human.”
Arthur says nothing for a long while, his gaze unblinking on the traffic they are slowly trailing through, before he shrugs, feigning indifference. “I don’t know,” he admits, sounding reluctant. “Morgana and I have never figured it out. But I think something Morgause said when she tried to capture me might have something to do with it.”
Merlin is very curious now. “What did she say?”
Arthur pauses, either with hesitance or purely for dramatic effect, Merlin isn’t sure. He looks down, his eyelashes flicker, and Merlin watches the strong profile of his face carefully, studying every twitch and tremble of a muscle. He wants to smooth his finger down the bridge of Arthur’s nose, caress away the frown lines, and bring his invincible boss back - he really, really just wants.
Arthur sighs. “She said I was born of magic,” he says, something like amusement tinged in his voice, but it’s strained and unconvincing, caught in his throat.
Merlin is fairly sure his mouth drops open. “What?!”
“Yep, I’m the product of some sorceress’ Frankenstein experiment.” He shrugs with nonchalance, but his shoulders are stiff and rigid. “I don’t posses magic, but I was made from it. That’s probably what you can feel. It’s what all magicians can feel. I don’t know why it makes me such a target, but there you go.” He waves a careless hand.
Merlin is merely in awe. He’s never even heard of such power - to create life itself! It’s almost beyond comprehension. “If only I had time to ask Dragon about this,” he muses, sounding dazed and far away, even to his own ears.
Arthur, however, is listening with rapt attention. “Who’s Dragon?” he asks immediately, sounding almost relieved for an appropriate change of subject.
Merlin hardly blames him and answers without really thinking about it. “He’s the one that sent me to protect you.”
“He told you to protect me?!” Arthur sounds aghast, and swivels around slightly, until he’s not really facing the road anymore - it’s just lucky that they’re still sat in traffic and not really moving anywhere. “Why?!” He frowns, thinks for a bit, then frowns deeper. “‘Cause I’m fairly sure I’ve never met anyone called Dragon before.”
“Dragon is what he calls himself,” Merlin explains, figuring it’s only fair to share what he knows now Arthur has been honest with him. “He didn’t tell me to do anything. I protect you because I choose to. He merely told me that I would.”
Arthur digests this for a second, looking eager and much more like his normal self - or at least not so scary anymore. “So, he can see the future?” he concludes. “Like Morgana?
Merlin shrugs, because he’s actually not so sure about the ins-and-outs himself. “Not exactly like Morgana,” he says, trying to sound as though he has some idea what he’s talking about. “It seems she saw - sees - the future through visions or images that come to life. Dragon prophases…and it usually always come true.”
“He hasn’t happened to prophesise the outcome of this fight, has he?” Arthur asks immediately, just as the traffic moves and he accelerates around a corner. “Preferably naming us a winners.”
Merlin’s answer is simple. “No.”
The blond looks disappointed but not particularly surprised - if anything, the look appears to be more exasperated. He gazes down the street, which is strangely empty when compared to the bustle and lights of the previous road, and glares into the darkness. “And now that Morgana’s…been subdued,” he whispers, sounding pained, “We’re literally going into this blind.”
“Yes,” Merlin replies, feeling a little bit queasy at the very thought. Why was he doing this again?
“I don’t understand then,” Arthur muses, shaking his head in apparent confusion. He turns another corner (again empty, despite the fact they’re in the centre of London) and recoils slightly in his seat as the burning flames come back into view. They’re close now, the light bright and almost blinding, and Merlin knows something isn’t right, because why are he and Arthur the only two people that can see them? Flames, in Hyde Park - someone should have noticed!
“What don’t you understand?” Merlin asks, to distract himself from the fire that is so obviously a trap.
Arthur shakes his head again, almost disbelieving. “Why are you here? If Dragon didn’t order you to protect me.”
Merlin opens his mouth to reply, to laugh and shrug it off, but his words get caught in his throat. He stares at his boss unabashedly, even longingly, and takes in every line of his face. His strong jaw, furrowed brow, fair eyelashes, and even the golden glint of his hair, shining slightly in the light of the fire. Merlin’s chest heaves, and unable to lie anymore, he merely chokes, “I’m here for you,” low and full of unsaid meaning.
Arthur obviously catches something in his tone, and turns to look at him, slow and careful, before understanding blossoms over his features.
He looks surprised, and a little bit disbelieving. Merlin’s heart thunders.
But, “Oh,” is all Arthur says in reply, faintly stunned and unsure of how to process the revelation, brow working furiously.
“Yeah,” Merlin breathes.
The rest of the ride is silent.
***
After spending ten minutes attempting to find somewhere to park in London and failing, Arthur simply gives up; it’s an emergency for fuck’s sake, and he has better things to do with his time than trying to find a fucking parking space. He drives his car up onto the pavement of a side street, seemingly uncaring that he’s probably blocking most of the road, and leaps out his door, eager and ready now to put an end to everything, once and for all.
Merlin, still reeling from his own confession, staggers out the car with far less purpose and grace than his companion, feeling slightly sick with nerves. He’s never actually faced anyone magical before - well, other than Sophia, and she was nothing but a petite twenty-year old girl with a stick. For all Merlin knew, he could be about to face an enormous fire-breathing Dragon; although he supposes someone probably would have noticed a Dragon flapping around in the centre of London.
Except there doesn’t actually seem to be many people about. It’s dark, and quiet, and the normal bustling streets are mostly empty, the closer and closer they get to the fire. It sends shivers down Merlin’s spine and he frowns, following reluctantly as Arthur dashes off to one of the entrances of the park, without so much as a word.
He looks fierce and determined, totally unafraid, but Merlin supposes that this isn’t the first time Arthur has faced a magical enemy. Far from it, by the sounds of it, and Merlin suddenly feels envious, because to be totally honest with himself, he’s shitting a bloody brick.
“Arthur,” he wheezes, scrambling on wobbling legs to catch up to his companion’s long effortless strides, “We can’t just waltz in! We don’t even know what we’re facing!”
Arthur turns to look at him incredulously, but does not break his stride, fists clenched and swinging quickly at his sides. “Well, what do you suggest we do?” he snaps sarcastically, as they hurry through the gate, Merlin stumbling behind him, “Knock on a tree and hope somebody answers?”
It’s almost completely dark, practically black, and Merlin can barely see shadowed outlines of distant trees. He sees nobody and can barely even see the grass a metre away from his feet, so focuses only on the fire that is gleaming at the centre of the park, silent and ominous. It casts no light on the area around it, or from what Merlin can tell, any warmth, and continues to dance mockingly across his vision.
It’s still some distance away.
“Oh god,” Merlin breathes, feeling faint, “This is such a trap.”
Arthur stops for a moment, faltering, and frowns, watching the flames with an almost helpless expression, back straight and shoulders steeled. “I know,” he mutters, before shaking his head and resuming his walk. “I know.”
Merlin is about to comment, although he’s not entirely sure what he can say, when his vision blacks out once more. Just like when he was back in Arthur’s office, he staggers, swearing loudly at the momentary loss of his senses, and flails his arms around, blind and bewildered.
But just like before, it only lasts a second.
His vision returns, and Merlin blinks, attempting to gather himself as a mass of green invades his eyesight.
He rubs his head, feeling woozy, and gasps in surprise, because suddenly he’s not looking at a park anymore. In front of him, behind him, and all around him are bushes, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time for him to realise why.
It’s a maze. A very big, very real, maze.
And he’s right in the middle of it.
The ground beneath his feet looks the same as it did before, mossy and green, and the stars are still twinkling in exactly the same position as they had ten seconds previously, so he doesn’t think he’s actually moved. It seems that the maze has come directly to him.
It towers around him, tall and intimidating, and tunnels in front of him, long and twisting, hiding the fire from view. And much more importantly, hiding Arthur from view.
Merlin turns on a heel, panic flaring in his chest, and cries, “Arthur?!” loud and questioning, into the silent darkness.
Arthur had been beside him only moments before! Who had done this?! How had they done this?! And where the bloody hell was Arthur?!
***
TBC...
A/N My new motto: hours to write, seconds to comment, so let me know what you think :)