Glow of a Rose (4/6)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Merlin woke up being confused. He felt rested for the first time in days, and for a moment, he didn’t understand why that didn’t seem to be a good thing. He watched the morning sunlight streaming through the window, and then it hit him. He shot up, looked at the other side of his bed -empty- and then fell assfirst out of the bed in his hurry to get up without really freeing his legs that were still wrapped in the sheets.
Fuck, where is he?
Merlin didn’t stop to put on clothes; he ran down the hall clad only in his boxers, looked into the bathroom -also empty- and then somehow made it downstairs without breaking his neck. He rushed towards the kitchen, barely looked into the living room on his way and then stopped so suddenly that he almost landed on his ass again. There he was. Arthur was sitting on the couch close to the fireplace, Prince’s head in his lap, staring down at the dog. He looked up when Merlin entered the room, his eyes widening a bit by whatever he saw on Merlin’s face.
“What… how are you?” Merlin asked, trying not to wheeze like the maniac he was.
Arthur only nodded. “When did you get him? How is he?”
Taking a deep breath, Merlin toddled over and crashed onto the couch facing them. “Yesterday, when you were sleeping. He had pneumonia but he will be fine. He still has to take antibiotics but that doesn’t seem to be a problem; he eats anything you put in front of him.”
“But he will be fine?”
“Yes. He needs to take it easy, stay inside as long as possible, sleep a lot… actually quite like you. The only difference is that I will take him out in my garden so he can do his thing,” Merlin grimaced slightly at this prospect, “and you can go to the bathroom.”
“You have a garden?”
“Yes, behind the house. I hope I can keep him out of my herbs. You want to see it?”
“Not now, maybe later.”
Merlin nodded, watching Arthur closely. He certainly looks better, he thought. But something’s off again; he’s jumpy as hell.
“What’s going on?”
Arthur shook his head. “Nothing. Thank you for… everything. Thank you for not dumping me at a hospital.”
“I promised you I wouldn’t.”
“I know, I remember that. Still… it couldn’t have been fun for you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it fun but it wasn’t a hardship either. I’m just glad the worst seems to be over.” Merlin’s glance fell on Arthur’s hands that were trembling badly. “The worst is over, isn’t it? Please level with me… how are you feeling?”
“I’m…” Arthur bit on his lower lip. The tremor seemed to wander up and downwards from his hands, until he shook all over. Prince whimpered softly and looked at Merlin, but he was already on his way over to them.
“What’s going on with you?” Merlin repeated softly, laying a hand on Arthur’s back. Since he was now close to Arthur he could hear and feel how erratically Arthur was breathing.
“I… I don’t know. Give me a minute,” Arthur gasped.
Merlin frowned. Arthur was sweating heavily again, but he wasn’t feverish anymore. He slid his hand quickly up to Arthur’s neck, catching an incredibly fast heartbeat. “Hey… calm down. Nothing will happen to you.”
“A moment.”
“Arthur…”
“NO!” Arthur jumped away from Merlin, landing on the other side of the wide couch, and put his hands over his ears. “Don’t call me that; I can’t deal… I can’t…” Arthur broke off, obviously because he wasn’t able to talk anymore. He was beyond pale, still breathing far too quickly, and looked like he would pass out any second. Merlin realized that he would if Merlin didn’t act right now. He stood up and ran over to a cabinet in the hall, noticing absently that he was freezing his ass off. Getting the paper bag he had been looking for, he also grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that were lying on the floor near the hamper for whatever reason, and hopped back to Arthur, struggling with dressing himself on his way there.
Arthur was lying on the couch, feet drawn up almost into a fetal position, still wheezing helplessly. Sitting down, Merlin took hold of both of Arthur’s arms and pulled him slowly to his chest. He handed him the paper bag, and Arthur apparently knew the drill; he started breathing into it immediately. “Slowly,” Merlin murmured. “Try to breathe out longer than you breathe in.”
Arthur’s eyes were almost completely black and wide with fear; far too soon, he lowered the bag and gasped out, “I… it isn’t working! I need…”
“No, you don’t. Keep breathing into the bag, it will go away.” Arthur struggled and Merlin tightened the hold he had on him.
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly well,” Merlin answered, bringing Arthur’s hand with the bag back to his mouth. “You’re having the mother of all panic attacks; but even the worst of those will go away on their own.” Merlin took Arthur’s free hand and was relieved when he felt Arthur clinging to him. “There is only so much adrenaline your body can produce until it gets too much and it stops,” he continued talking in what he hoped was a calming voice. “Just go on breathing, slowly.”
Finally, some color came back to Arthur’s face, and he relaxed slightly against Merlin. He let go of the paper bag and rubbed his face with one hand: the other was still holding Merlin’s tightly.
“Better?” Merlin asked, and Arthur nodded, averting his gaze.
“Hey.” Merlin saw shame written clearly over Arthur’s face. “Your mind and your body have been through hell the last days. Stop being so hard on yourself; I told you before, we’ll deal.”
“How?”
“Time. Right now, I can’t give you anything to calm you down, not even herbal stuff like valerian. So we keep paper bags close and I talk you through the attacks, if you can stand it. I don’t think the anxiety will stay around for long, but you know, the cravings…”
“Won’t ever stop, I know.”
“I wouldn’t say ever, but it will take time for it to get better. And you will have to be careful about what meds you take in the future; no benzos anymore, ever.”
Arthur nodded, head falling back against Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin rested his cheek on it. They sat in silence for a while; then Merlin noticed Arthur was gearing up for something to say.
“Why are you… calling me that?”
Merlin considered the question for a moment, then answered. “I know you under that name.”
Silence again; Merlin felt the body in his arms trembling a bit.
“So… I am crazy. Oh God. This isn’t happening, right?”
“What isn’t?”
“This!” Arthur waved his hand around, pointing at the living room and at Prince. Then he raised their linked hands. “This. I will wake up in a hospital, chained to a bed.”
“I really doubt they chain people to beds nowadays.”
Arthur made a weird sound. “Oh they do. It has happened before.”
Clamping down hard on his reaction to this statement, Merlin answered calmly and -as he knew- futilely, “You’re not crazy, you’re not insane, you’re not psychotic. There is no hospital this time, this is real. I am real.” He hitched the body in his arms up and closer.
Suddenly Arthur started to laugh. Merlin tried to get a look at his eyes, but Arthur stared straight ahead. “So what… you’re a… wizard?”
Again, Merlin paused for a minute. “Well, wizard reminds me awfully of Harry Potter. It might be out-dated, but I still prefer the title Warlock.”
“Yeah, sure,” Arthur whispered.
Merlin took a deep breath. “What do you say… I make us breakfast, and you tell me what happened to you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have loads of time.”
It was immensely satisfying for Merlin to watch Arthur practically inhaling a huge breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, coffee and orange juice; all of it vanished inside Arthur with immense speed. Merlin just clung to a cup of coffee and tried to relax. He already knew that the coming day would be even more taxing on them than the last few had been.
Arthur finally pushed his plate away and leaned back on the couch, looking a bit queasy.
“Stomach okay?” Merlin asked.
“Yeah. Let’s hope it stays that way.”
Merlin nodded and continued to watch Arthur carefully. He noticed that Arthur looked anywhere but him, eyes never settling on anything. The pressure of the silence between them grew until Merlin decided that he had to be the one to start this conversation if he wanted them to have it.
“So… you know who I am?”
Arthur jumped at that, threw a startled gaze at Merlin and immediately averted his eyes again. “I know nothing about you!” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, I do know your name is John Emerson and that you… are a writer. Horror novels.”
Surprised, Merlin sat down the cup he had been still clutching between his hands on the table. “You know my books?”
“I own one. Someone gave it to me.”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “Someone?”
“I don’t know who. It was there when I woke up one morning. I… I was in another state then. Uh…” Arthur looked around. “Did you… where is my backpack?”
“It’s still in the car. Wait a moment, I’ll get it.” Merlin stood up and then paused, looking at Arthur, assessing him.
“What?”
Merlin sighed. “Nothing.” He went out into the hall where the bag had already appeared, grabbed it and returned to Arthur.
“I thought it was still in the car?”
Merlin didn’t answer, just handed the bag over to Arthur and sat down again. He still wasn’t sure if he should openly use magic around the other man. Arthur wasn’t stupid, he had to have noticed some things by now but Merlin hadn’t put any magic on open display yet. He all too well remembered the panic attack one hour ago; an attack that had been provoked by him calling Arthur by his name.
“No answer?”
“You sure you want one?”
Arthur lowered and shook his head. Merlin saw him biting his lips for a minute, then he opened the bag and pulled out a well-known hardcover. Merlin winced. ‘Mirrors’. Great choice.
“Did you read it?”
“Yes, of course, it creeped the hell out of me. But you know what the creepiest thing was? This.” Arthur turned the book around in his hands, and Merlin could see his own face on the inner cover. “Well, this and… that.” He opened the book in the middle and drew two things out; one looked like a card and the other like… a ticket or something.
“Can I take a look at that?”
Arthur handed it over and Merlin glanced at the card. He took a deep breath. The typed name and address of Lancelot’s and Guinevere’s pub, and beneath it, in block letters, Here you will find what you’re looking for. “Subtle.” Merlin concentrated on the handwritten letters, letting his fingers stroke over them, reaching. For a second, a wave of dread washed over him, but before he could hold on to it, the feeling vanished again. Merlin frowned. This wasn’t possible; there was no one alive on Earth who would be powerful enough to elude him.
“What is it?”
Merlin shook his head and looked at the other piece of paper… it was a train ticket, issued to John Smith; a ride to this town, on a train that had arrived here five weeks ago. “That was in the book, too?”
Arthur nodded.
“Well, then I have to ask again. Do you know who I am?”
Mute, Arthur stared at him.
“It’s only a logical question… Arthur.” Merlin ignored the other man’s flinch. “Why would you have come here if not for me?”
Still deadly quiet, Arthur’s breathing took up speed again.
“You’re here, Arthur. Not in a hospital, and you’re not dreaming. I can pinch you if you don’t believe me.” And then, Merlin did exactly that. Without moving a muscle, he let his magic pinch Arthur in the arm, not too gently. Arthur jumped again, looking at him wide-eyed.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Arthur whispered, “You weren’t there.”
“I know. You found Lancelot, Guinevere and Gwaine.”
“Will and Mary.”
“Lancelot and Guinevere.”
Arthur didn’t answer, so Merlin pressed on. “Did they recognize you?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you stay then?”
Arthur closed his eyes. “You weren’t there,” he repeated.
“No. My letter got… delayed, I guess.”
Eyes flying open again, Arthur asked, “Your letter?”
This time, Merlin stayed seated. He just raised his hand and kept a close look on Arthur while the letter flew out of his jacket’s pocket in the hall right into his hand. Arthur didn’t really react to it; he was pale anyway, he just looked wearier than he had before.
Merlin handed the envelope to Arthur and watched him look at the picture. When he saw the name typed on the letter, Arthur glanced at him. “This looks like…”
“Yes. I’m pretty sure it has been written on the same typewriter.” Merlin let his head drop on the backrest and sighed. “Someone is orchestrating all this; and it’s annoying the hell out of me that I can’t find out who that someone is.”
“Orchestrating what?”
“Us meeting again.”
Arthur shook his head slowly. “All right, who told you about me? Why are you playing me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Look, if you want me to accept that I’m not in some drug induced delirium, you have to tell me why you’re doing this. How did you do that with that letter? I don’t believe in magic!” Arthur stated quite desperately.
Merlin smiled. “You’re lucky I’m not a fairy. I might have dropped dead.”
Unbelievingly, Arthur asked, “What? Now you’re quoting movie lines to me?”
Merlin sighed again. “No, sorry. I’m just having a hard time to think of a way to convince you it’s true; you are Arthur Pendragon and I’m your long-suffering warlock, Merlin.”
“Do you know how insane that sounds?” Arthur yelled suddenly.
“Not for me, it doesn’t.” Merlin saw how hard Arthur worked on looking angry, to no avail. It was easy to read the fear underneath. “Look… why don’t you tell what happened to you?”
Huffing, Arthur spat out, “I don’t even know where to start.”
“At the beginning?”
Arthur rubbed his hands over his face. “Right. Okay, I’m an orphan. I have no idea who my parents are, nor what happened to them, if they’re still alive or not. I was raised in… quite a few institutions, since I was a baby.”
Merlin frowned. “What… you weren’t adopted? Why not?”
Shoulders drawn up, Arthur murmured, “I already told you why. I was… ‘round the bend.”
“You were a crazy baby?”
Arthur hesitated. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Maybe there was something off about me even then.”
All of a sudden, a thought struck Merlin. He reached out towards Arthur and let his magic search for something he hadn’t considered before. Arthur reacted immediately; his eyes went wide and he shrank back as far as he could. “What are you doing to me? And your eyes…”
Merlin drew back; he learned what he had wanted to know. “I’m sorry. I really thought I had grown out of it, but for some reason… well, since you reappeared, I’m not as good at hiding my magic as I had been before. Therefore the color-changing eyes. About what I did… I wanted to know if you’re under a spell. You’re not.” But you have been, Merlin thought. God dammit! What the fuck is going on?
“Maybe you are the crazy one here,” Arthur said, staring at him.
Merlin managed a little laugh. “Well, I have to admit, since I found you on that damned street, as a beggar, I had quite a few moments of insanity. Whatever. Please continue.”
Arthur swallowed. “Uh… as I said, I grew up in treatment homes. Well, I was in one until I was ten years old. Then they started to move me around; to other places or… later in hospitals.”
“What happened?”
“Um. When I was five, actually exactly on my fifth birthday, I started to dream about weird things. A castle. Soldiers. Rooms I’ve never seen before. But mostly, I dreamt about… you.”
“You dreamt about me when you were five years old?”
“Yes. I dreamt about you every night. The other things changed, you were always there. I… even when I was awake, I saw you sometimes. I knew your name was Merlin. I knew you were my friend. And I waited for you to come and get me. You never did.”
Merlin felt like someone had punched him in the gut; he somehow swallowed around the lump in his throat and bit out, “I didn’t know.”
Smiling strangely, Arthur said, “Of course not. You weren’t real.”
“Arthur…”
“No! You can’t be real! I learned it the hard way, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I told the guys… the caretakers. About you, about who I really was…” Arthur shook his head. “I remember they were quite amused in the beginning. In hindsight, I guess they thought I’ve seen the Disney movie or some other stuff.” He buried his face in his hands. “God, that sounds so crazy. Anyway, they told me that it was okay to have an imaginary friend. I insisted that you were quite real. I kept dreaming, lots of stuff.”
Merlin interrupted him. “What stuff?” He was worried now; Camelot had never been a peaceful place and he wondered how the hell a little boy could cope with that.
“Oh, happy stuff.” Arthur huffed. “The hardcore dreams came when I was… I don’t know, fourteen, fifteen? I was already on medication then, so I’m not sure. When I was about nine, they started to try and talk me out of it; they said I was too old now to only live in my dream world. They wanted me to make real friends; I didn’t want to. I already had one and I was still waiting for him. As I said, when I was ten they moved me to another orphanage, one who cared for kids with special needs. Lots of shrinks there.” Arthur lowered his gaze. “They tried for two years… but I wouldn’t budge. They showed me lots of stuff; documentaries, stories, movies… they told me there wasn’t ever a King Arthur, no wizard named Merlin, that this was all a legend, a fairy tale. But I still insisted; I pointed out what the stories got right and what was wrong. Then… it got worse. I had real trouble separating reality from… my dreams. For example, I saw you standing in a corner in the public room, but when I ran there you vanished into thin air. And for the first time, I remembered… Uther. I hid from him. I pointed him out to others. That got them going. Shrink said I was showing symptoms of schizophrenic psychosis. They dragged me to a psychiatrist and before I knew what hit me, I found myself in a hospital.” Arthur was talking faster and faster. “I can’t remember what they gave me when I first arrived there, but it put me under for good. I… I lost lots of time then. When I woke up… I guess they lowered the dosage, well, I totally lost it. I didn’t know where I was. I kept screaming for… the dreams came back with a vengeance. I think that was the first time when I dreamt about dying. Over and over again. I was alone, you weren’t there.”
Arthur wasn’t looking at him, and that was the one thing Merlin was grateful for. He felt close to vomiting; he had to swallow the whole time to keep the bile rising in his throat down.
“I kept switching between being depressed and violent. I threw punches at everyone who came close, so they cuffed me to the bed. And, God, they stuffed me with drugs. They didn’t help anymore, though. To the contrary, I was flooded with images… and there were no happy images anymore. I can’t describe it… it was like… it’s not true, there were good things I remembered, even fun things but… the overall feeling was, I don’t know, pressure? Pressure and betrayal.”
Merlin couldn’t stay on his side of the table anymore. He jumped up and sat down again beside Arthur, reaching for him, but Arthur moved away at once. “No, don’t touch me!”
“Arthur…”
“No! I have to get this out now, don’t you understand?”
Nodding, Merlin settled down and leaned back.
“Okay. Finally, things became calmer. Oh, my mind was filled with all these… well, I thought memories… but… I was more lucid when I was awake and I realized I had to shut my mouth and stop attacking others or I would never get out of that damn hospital again. I somehow managed it. I started to give the right answers. They prodded at me for about a year, I think. I… developed a sleeping disorder. I didn’t want to sleep anymore because I didn’t want to dream. And I got those damn panic attacks. And then…” He broke off.
“Lorazepam.”
“Yeah. Ativan… well, the generic stuff.”
“With what dosage did they start?”
“Eight milligram.”
“What? That’s the maximum dose!”
“I know. I thought it was quite brilliant. I felt good. No dreams, no panics… I felt normal if a bit tired.”
“How long…”
“Until I was eighteen.” Arthur looked at Merlin and grimaced. “They didn’t care and neither did I. The stuff’s cheap… well, as long as you have a doctor prescribe it. They were all quite happy with the results. I was moved to another house then, one for very special kids and hell, I was the calmest one there, believe me. When I turned eighteen, they threw me out. That was real fun. It was winter; I had no idea where to go or what to do.”
“I can’t believe they didn’t help you… I don’t know, point you to somewhere.”
“Oh, they did. They gave me an address for a homeless shelter. Hey, I found out it wasn’t only me. Two days after I landed there, another guy from the house turned up. On his eighteenth birthday, too. I was already in trouble then. I only had a few pills left, and I cut them down to two a day. That barely took the edge off.” Arthur hesitated again. “You know… I wasn’t exactly only taking four a day before anymore. Anyway, the other guy had quite a few suggestions how I could earn money to buy my drugs.”
Merlin’s head whipped around, and he stared at Arthur, tensing all over.
Arthur smiled a bit, looking horribly young. “No, I didn’t do that. I think I would have rather… doesn’t matter. I tried to keep it together. I didn’t want to lose it so badly they could have sent me back to a hospital. I ate at the soup kitchen; when I was lucky and someone else got sick, I earned some money there. And I was on the streets, begging. I made enough to buy me some of the stuff. It wasn’t enough to keep the nightmares away, but I didn’t have any panic attacks while I was awake. And then, well… on the first night I slept outside the shelter, someone left the book. You know the rest.”
Pursing his lips, Merlin asked, “If you don’t believe I’m… real, why did you come here?”
“I wanted to get out of that godforsaken town anyway. So… free ticket, big city.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow and Arthur flushed. “All right. So I was… intrigued. I thought maybe you were… I thought you had left the book for me. You… how old are you?”
Merlin smiled. “A bit over 1500 years old.”
“You’re quite the comedian.”
“It’s the honest truth.”
“Right. That’s written on your ID card?”
“No. Let me think… according to that, I’m 34 years old.”
“You look a bit young for that.”
“I know. I have to decide soon what to do… either age up my appearance or start over as someone else again.”
“Do you even know how crazy you sound?”
“Yes.” Merlin nodded and then threw a speculating look at Arthur. “Can you maybe try to accept who I am? Who you are?”
Standing up, Arthur went over to the window and looked at the street below for a few minutes. Then he turned around again. “Look, there are two possibilities here. One, I’m hallucinating - and I so wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. Two…”
Merlin interrupted him. “Why? As far as you told me, you dreamt of Camelot, not of today.”
“I told you, I saw you around even when you weren’t…”
“Hm. How did I look? How was I dressed? Black from head to toe, with a cape? Or,” Merlin winced, “with a tunic, boots and some sort of hideous scarf?”
Arthur stared. “How do you know that?”
“Because it’s me! And I still can very well remember what I was wearing then.”
Arthur shook his head and Merlin sighed again. “What’s your second option then?”
“That you somehow found out… and… I don’t know… maybe…” He broke off, apparently realizing how insecure he sounded.
“Found out what, Arthur? Even if I had hacked myself into the hospital’s database and got access to your files… what, do you think there is a picture of me in it? No way to take a picture of a hallucination, right? And even if there would have been one, or some sort of picture you’d drawn… what, you think I had plastic surgery to look like your ‘hallucination’? And anyway… how do you explain that you dreamt of someone looking like me when you were five years old? That was thirteen years ago.”
Arthur sat down again, head bent. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“Maybe we should try and break this down a bit. You’ve said you don’t believe in magic. Maybe that’s the key? I can surely show you enough magic to convince even someone as stubborn as you are.”
Arthur looked up at him. He talked so quietly, Merlin could barely understand him. “I wish I could believe you. Believe in you.”
Arthur watched the teapot hovering in the air, filling the cup beneath it, looked at the sugar cubes flying on their own through the air into the cup in front of him with an impossibly sad face. Merlin sighed; he knew tricks like this wouldn’t really help Arthur to believe, but he ran out of ideas hours ago. He had tried everything he could think of… growing plants, thunder and lightning, an earthquake, hell, even an eclipse of the sun and Merlin was very sure this would be the talk of the century for every astronomer on earth.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered.
“No, don’t be sorry. I just don’t know how to prove to you it is true.”
“You can’t. It’s insane, a paradox. No matter what you do, I will never know…”
“It’s not insane. You are not insane. I wish I’d know a way…” Merlin paused. “Maybe this, Arthur?” He raised his right hand, and on his palm appeared a ball made out of blue light. It hovered there a moment, then the ball floated over to Arthur, who held his hand out just like Merlin. It nestled right into Arthur’s palm, as it had done a hundred times before. Arthur stared at it, then looked up at Merlin, tears in his eyes. “How… I never told anyone…” he hesitated. “Merlin?”
“I tried so hard, Arthur.” Merlin felt a tear sliding down his own cheek. “I tried so hard to send it to you. To let you know I was still there, even if I couldn’t be with you. But… it didn’t work. Her spell was too powerful. I couldn’t…” He broke off, choking.
“What happened to you? Gods, Merlin, what happened? You were supposed to be gone for two days and then… I searched for you; we all searched for you. I never stopped, my whole life I never stopped, but I couldn’t find you.”
“Viviane called to me…”
“Viviane?”
“Freya.” Merlin smiled through his tears. “You remember Freya, right? There was quite a bit of name changing going on, even then. So she wasn’t Freya, the shape-shifter, anymore, she was Viviane, the Lady of the Lake. Sounded better, I guess,” Merlin said bitterly.
“You loved her.”
“Loved her? Gods, Arthur. I was nineteen when I met her. I fell in love with a scared girl who lived under a terrible curse someone put on her and who dreamt of… I don’t know, a place, a home, where she didn’t have to be scared anymore. Then, I wanted so badly to save her, to share her dream. I failed her, of course. Believe me, Viviane had nothing to do with that girl anymore.”
“You still went.”
“Guilt. She called out for help, and I went to her. Every time. Arthur, she played me for years. She told me fairy tales about creatures who were threatening her, and I taught her my magic.” Merlin huffed. “Ah, I was never able to see through women. Show me a warlock, and I can tell you what he wants, how powerful he is. But witches? There is something about female magic… it’s more in the shadows. Anyway, that day? I knew something was off. I waited at the lake for the ferry, and for a moment, I thought I had seen Mordred’s face in the water. I should have run for my life in that second, but you know how arrogant I was then.”
“Mordred? He was there that day?”
“I don’t know. Some part of me tells he must have been there, but when I’m honest… in hindsight, I think it was a warning for me. But you also know that the Sight was never my greatest gift, let alone actually acting on something I’ve foreseen. So I stayed, arrogant, full of belief that nothing, no one could hurt me, conquer me. I was wrong. Before I even knew what was happening, Viviane threw me into that cave and put a spell on it and me.” Merlin leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. “I have to give it to her, she totally surprised me. First I was pissed off, but soon enough I found out that my magic didn’t work in that godsforsaken cave. For years, I didn’t believe it. I raged against it. I… I was stuck in time. I didn’t get older, I wasn’t hungry or thirsty.” He opened his eyes again and looked at Arthur. “She showed me things.”
A pale and worried looking Arthur leaned forward. “What things?”
“You.” Merlin swallowed. “It was all about you. I saw you searching for me. I saw you getting older. And then… Lancelot. Guinevere. The Grail. Mercia.” His voice became quieter and quieter. “Camlann. Mordred.” Merely a whisper now.
When he felt a hand on his back, Merlin startled badly. He hadn’t even noticed Arthur standing up and sitting down beside him on the couch; he had completely forgotten his surroundings, overwhelmed by images from the past. Arthur began to rub circles over Merlin’s back, and Merlin tried to withdraw, to no avail. “I failed you.”
“Merlin…”
“I did! I didn’t listen, either to those who knew better or to my own instincts! I let you die, alone, on that filthy battlefield!”
Arthur still looked at him and for the first time since they’d met again, Merlin felt the power shifting between them. Arthur’s body might be eighteen years old, but his eyes certainly weren’t; his eyes belonged to the king he once had been. Merlin on the other hand, was scared all of a sudden and felt too young.
“How did you escape?”
“What?”
“The cave. How did you escape?”
Gods, even his voice is deeper now. “Years later. I was quite insane then.” Arthur huffed and Merlin tried to smile without really managing it. “After I don’t know how many years, they finally came together again, all three of them. They celebrated your death every year, you know? And that year, they did it right in front of my cave. Viviane let me see them, but then, she made a mistake. Morgana wanted to take a look at me, and Mordred,” Merlin barked out a laugh, “I don’t know, I guess he wanted to piss on me. Viviane didn’t want to open the way, but the others told her they could easily overpower me. Big mistake.”
“You killed them?”
Feeling ashamed, Merlin shook his head. “No. But I hurt them, I still do. As I said, I was completely insane then.”
“They are still around?”
“Oh yes. That night, I put my mark on them. They will never be free of me.”
“What does that mean?”
Merlin licked his dry lips. “There are some things you don’t want to know, believe me.”
“You know as well as I do that this isn’t true.”
“Arthur, I’m not the man…” Merlin broke off when he was suddenly jostled. Before he could do more than squeak, he was dragged back almost on top of Arthur and put into a half-serious headlock. He heard Arthur laugh above him.
“Merlin, spare me the cliché, all right? I’m not an idiot, I know you’ve changed! But under all that bluster, you’re still the same twit you were all those years ago.”
“Arthur!”
“Keep your secrets for now, old man. But know I will drag them out of you in no time.”
Merlin, still in a most undignified position half on Arthur’s lap and half on the couch, stared up at Arthur’s laughing face and something inside him shattered. Unable to stop it, he started to cry and watched Arthur’s smile vanish. In the next moment he was crushed to Arthur’s chest, dragged completely onto his lap, and found himself in one of those bear hugs Arthur always had been so good at.
“Don’t you cry, don’t you cry, Merlin, you hear me?”
“I failed you,” Merlin croaked. It was the utter truth; a truth Arthur had never understood.
“Ah Gods, Merlin. You were the only one, the only one, who has never failed me. Never.”
“I always have.”
“Never.” The hug got impossibly tighter, and Merlin gave up, turned his face into Arthur’s sweater and cried for only the Gods knew how long on Arthur’s chest, until he finally passed out.
When he woke up again, Merlin was lying on the couch, covered by one of the patchwork quilts. Groaning, he sat up, rubbed his hands over his face and then combed his fingers through his hair. He felt like death warmed over. Blinking wearily, he looked around; the only living being besides him in the room was Prince who slept peacefully in his basket in front of the fireplace. But there were sounds coming from the kitchen, so he stood up to investigate. He wasn’t really keen on facing Arthur after that crying fit he had had, but there was nothing for it; he couldn’t exactly hide under the couch.
About to enter the kitchen, Merlin stopped on the threshold. Right in front of him was Arthur’s sweatpants covered ass, while the owner of said ass hung his head over in one of Merlin’s chest freezers, searching for only the Gods knew what.
“What are you doing?”
Arthur jumped a bit, turned around quickly and smiled dazzlingly at him. Merlin leaned on the doorframe; he still wasn’t used to a smiling Arthur.
“I’m looking for something to go with the green stuff in your fridge. And while there are many interesting things in here… interesting and disturbing things, I may add- there isn’t any meat. At least, no meat I want to eat. Please tell me you don’t eat the things in here either?”
“You’re in the wrong freezer.”
“I’m in the wrong freezer? I’m not in it; I’m just looking into it.”
“You’re looking into the wrong freezer. Take a look at that one,” Merlin pointed to the other side of the kitchen, “and stay out of this one.”
“Will do!” Arthur banged the open freezer door closed, bounced over to the other one, and exclaimed, after opening it, “That’s what I call a freezer!”
Merlin still stood at the door, not being able to move a muscle. He didn’t know what to say, hell, he didn’t know what to think. Arthur seemed completely changed; gone was the depressed, ill young man, as well as the suddenly older and wiser man who had appeared so briefly at Merlin’s break-down. This Arthur Merlin was not familiar with; he had never known a care-free behaving Arthur.
“What about some roasted pork?” Arthur asked, turning around with a big piece of pork in hand, waving it like some kind of prize.
“Pork’s fine. Arthur? Er… how are you feeling?”
Arthur put the meat down on the counter; his face became serious. “Don’t worry, I’m not losing it. I feel… okay, I guess. Pins and needles like crazy in my arms and legs, and for some weird reason in my nose, and I can imagine all too well finding me some pills, but… I don’t really want any, you know? Not anymore. Not with what I know now. I don’t know what will happen when the nightmares or panic attacks come back but right now? No.” Arthur threw a glance at him and grimaced slightly. “You don’t look exactly convinced.”
Merlin shook his head. “No. No, it’s not… it’s just… you were… you are…”
“Jittery, I know. And my damn hands are still shaking. But I do my best to ignore it; nothing I can do against it. But…” Arthur smiled again and Merlin immediately had trouble breathing properly, “… I’m just really… I don’t know. I never saw so much food in one place in my life. At least, in this life. And I’m hungry as hell all of a sudden.”
Merlin swallowed, wincing at the clicking sound his throat made. “Then roast pork it is. With carrots and potatoes?”
“Sounds great!” Arthur unwrapped the frozen meat and put it in a bowl, then he looked around. “Do you have a microwave?”
“I don’t need one.”
Arthur looked confused for a second, then his glance fell on the already thawed out meat. “Ah, of course.” He grinned. “Handy as always.”
“Need some help with the carrots and potatoes?”
“Please! Oh and… please tell me there is nothing human in the other freezer.”
“You knew about Lancelot and Guinevere from the beginning, didn’t you?”
Merlin, who was just about to cut up the peeled potatoes, tensed and put down the knife. Turning around, he glanced warily at Arthur who leaned on the fridge. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When, Arthur? When? When you were a prince and I was your manservant? When you were King and I was still your manservant? On your wedding day, when I was still your manservant?”
“Wow, touchy. Merlin, you know as well as I do, you were never really my manservant!”
Merlin stared at Arthur a few more seconds, and then lowered his gaze. “I don’t know. I… I didn’t want to hurt you. You were so in love with her and at the beginning, I’d have never thought that they really…” He broke off when he heard humorless laughter coming from Arthur.
“Yes, I was so in love.” Arthur shook his head. “And so stupid. You know, Gwen was safe. When I think about the princesses my father had thrown at me… Gwen wasn’t demanding.”
“Gwen wasn’t demanding?”
This time, Arthur’s laugh was for real. “Yeah, I know what you think of… she was bitchy as hell, I give you that, especially after the wedding. But I didn’t mean it that way; she loved to discuss things and get into fights with me, but I never minded that. No, she was very undemanding when it came to romantic things, like taking strolls under the moon in the rose garden, you know? Or later, when it came to sex.” Arthur huffed. “As I said, I was stupid. Loving someone because they’re safe, that’s settling, right? And maybe she couldn’t say no to me, either, for the same reasons. Merlin, I don’t think she really believed she would someday marry me. And then, when my father died far earlier than anyone would have thought, I had managed to back both of us into a corner where I couldn’t see a way out. I couldn’t go back on my word, and apparently, neither could she. The marriage was doomed from the start.”
Arthur went over to the table, sat down and helped himself to a cup of coffee. Getting a beer out of the fridge, Merlin wished for something stronger but doubted the wisdom of drinking vodka while having this conversation. In fact, he didn’t want to have this conversation at all, sober or not.
“I mean, I’m not an idiot. I knew there was something between them; I just didn’t think they would ever act on it… which probably makes me an idiot, in hindsight. Hell, Merlin, you knew how it was back then. Today I would get a divorce and wish them luck but then? I tried, I really did.” Arthur sighed. “No, I didn’t. I was glad she wanted her own chambers. I was glad she didn’t feel so well so often, so I didn’t have to… you know. Not that ‘not feeling well’ meant that she couldn’t race through the castle, or make visits or take a ride… on whatever.” Arthur grinned a bit, then threw a glance at Merlin. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, maybe some input on the matter? Or maybe you could tell me why you look like you wanted to kill someone?”
Merlin flinched badly at that. Seeking for a distraction, he said, “You’re taking this pretty well. Linda said something about you badmouthing Gwen in front of Lancelot not so long ago.”
Arthur laughed out loud and sputtered at the same time, somehow swallowing the coffee and not spitting it out again. “Aw man, how does she know about that?”
“Gwaine told her.”
“Ah shit.” Arthur shook his head. “Honestly? When I said that she wasn’t even there; I wanted to provoke him into a fight with me… I really wanted to punch him in the nose, I still do.”
“Not Gwen?”
Arthur looked horrified. “Firstly, I would never hit a woman and secondly… nah. It was more my fault than hers…” Merlin bit on his lips hard while hearing this, “… but hell, Lancelot? You know how he was… all noble and knightly and whatnot. He should have kept his hands off her, or at least, he could have come to me with it and just told me, you know?”
“You’re joking, right? He could have come to you? He was your best friend! You’re right about one thing, he should have kept his hands off her but you know what? She should have kept her hands to herself, too! I will never understand why you…” Merlin broke off when Arthur shook his head.
“My best friend? Are you mad? He was never my ‘best friend’. You were.”
“I wasn’t there anymore,” Merlin croaked.
“And that would change what exactly? You still were my best friend. Merlin, you were the only one I could really talk to, ever. What changed was that I closed up after you vanished.”
Merlin narrowed his eyes. “Viviane showed me what had happened after you found out and they ran away. Excuse me for saying so, but I don’t exactly buy your cool attitude… you totally lost it then.”
“Of course I lost it! What… they cuckolded me! In front of the whole fucking kingdom! Everybody knew about it! How do you think I should have reacted? Bid them farewell and suppressed a few tears?”
“You started a war over them!”
“No!” Arthur held up a hand and then pointed at Merlin. “I did so not start a war over them, I started a war because they ran to… hey, hold on. What is this really about?”
Merlin stood up, got another beer and threw the fridge door closed so violently everything in it rattled for some time. So he wasn’t heartbroken and hurt, it was just about his fucking pride. Gods, what have I done?
“Merlin?”
“What?” Merlin asked reluctantly, sitting down.
“What aren’t you telling me? And don’t even try to bullshit me, I know that look! Spit it out!”
Merlin hugged himself, pretending to only cross his arms. Looking at Arthur, he saw him raising his eyebrows. Honesty, my ass. He will leave me over this, I know he will leave me.
“Merlin…”
“I killed them.”
Arthur stared. “You… what?”
“I killed them.” Merlin got up again, turned away and closed his eyes. His hands grabbed the edge of the sink; he could feel potato peel under them. Roasted pork, potatoes and carrots… He felt like throwing up. Behind him, he heard Arthur standing up and his heart took a nose-dive. That’s it, then. He jumped badly when a hand landed gently on his back.
“Merlin, sit down again, all right? Sheesh, you look like you really should sit down!”
Merlin let Arthur drag him back to the table and push him onto a chair. Then, Arthur sat down right beside him, shoved the cup of coffee aside and took a swallow from Merlin’s beer. “Now… slowly please. You killed them? What happened?”
Merlin stared down at his hands on the table; he didn’t dare to look at Arthur. He felt like he wouldn’t ever be able to look at him again. “I told you how I escaped. When I was… finished with them,” he swallowed and then tensed when Arthur interrupted him.
“You know, I wanted to ask you before… why the hell is Mordred still alive? I’m not exactly sure anymore about everything that had happened at Camlann but I know I killed the bastard before I keeled over myself.”
“Either he faked his death or it was one of his facsimiles he had running around… and he only shortly possessed the body of it.”
“Oh lovely. Zombies. Sorry, I’ve interrupted you.”
Merlin thought for a short moment about just continuing with what happened to Mordred and the others -suddenly, that seemed far easier to tell than the other story- but he knew Arthur wouldn’t go for it, not now.
“Well, I… I searched for Lancelot and Guinevere. I found them in Scotland.” Merlin paused again; he could see what had happened then all too well before his inner eye. “They were quite the cozy couple. And when they saw me, Lancelot…” Merlin stopped and shook his head. He couldn’t tell this to Arthur. He listened to his heart hammering in his ears and Gods! He didn’t want to be here right now. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Arthur leaning close, and then his hand settled again on Merlin’s back. “Lancelot did what?”
“Lancelot smiled at me. He smiled at me as if he was really happy to see me.” Merlin made a choked sound. “Gwen didn’t. She knew. She knew all about me and why I was there. I descended on them like… it was over in seconds. Lancelot couldn’t even draw his sword.”
Silence. Merlin gritted his teeth and waited for the verdict. “What do you mean… Gwen knew all about you?”
Freezing, Merlin thoughts raced back to what he had said. Oh no. I didn’t… His eyes were now glued to the tabletop; he didn’t answer.
“Merlin?”
He didn’t have to answer, did he?
“Merlin, look at me.”
Yeah, sure.
He didn’t have to answer, and he surely didn’t have to look at this man right now. Then Merlin saw Arthur’s left hand, the one that was still free and not resting on his back, moving toward his face. Now, that was even worse than looking at Arthur, Merlin couldn’t stand more touching. He leaned back and looked up…. and saw Arthur’s eyes widen.
And all of a sudden, Merlin knew, he knew that everything he had ever felt for Arthur was written all over his face. The rather impressive flight impulse he had suppressed for some time broke free, and he jumped up, dodged Arthur’s hands and ran.
Sadly, it turned out that while he could run really fast, Merlin had as good as no brain cells left at all. Instead of running out of the house or transporting himself to the other side of the Earth he landed on the hall on the second floor, a barking Great Dane and Arthur hot on his heels. Merlin got stuck between the choice of either locking himself into the bathroom or the bedroom, and Arthur was already close enough to touch when he finally made a dash for the bedroom and tried to close the door behind him. Too late. Arthur and Prince piled in after him, and Arthur managed to take hold of one of his arms. Totally freaked, Merlin lashed out at Arthur with his magic and… nothing happened. Oh, Arthur hesitated for a moment -probably because Merlin’s eyes had changed color again- but then, he raised an eyebrow. “Interesting,” he said, grabbed Merlin around the waist and shooed Prince out of the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
“Let go of me!”
“Make me!” Arthur grinned at him.
“This isn’t even remotely funny!”
“You’re right about that.”
And then Arthur’s face came closer and closer, and before Merlin could remind himself that he was far too old to be so scared and before he found enough of the few brain cells he still had left to stop this, Arthur’s lips met his and Merlin simply folded under the kiss. Clutching Arthur’s arms to stay upright, he thought he heard the voice of reason in his mind screeching something at him, but then Arthur’s tongue swept slightly over his lips and he couldn’t even remember what reason was. He made a pathetically gurgling sound and opened his mouth; Arthur’s tongue immediately moved in to stay there. Merlin held on to Arthur for dear life; he could feel Arthur’s fingertips sliding under his shirt and running slowly up on his spine. Shuddering all over, Merlin tried to get some, at least some grip on the sensations raking over his body, to no avail. The moment he started to draw back a bit, Arthur tightened the hold he had on his waist and deepened the kiss even more. He tasted like coffee and beer and for some inexplicable reason like something close to cardamom. And he was warm, so warm.
Finally, Merlin simply let his head fall back to get some air into his lungs. He gulped in some, but found out that there didn’t seem to be enough air left in the room; at least not enough to feed his brain some much needed oxygen. Since they were close in height, and Arthur still hadn’t let him go, they were pressed together from chest down to their legs and this was really more than enough for him to… suddenly, Merlin felt Arthur’s hands shifting on his back and for one moment, he wondered dimly what would happen if Arthur actually let him go. He would probably drop like a rock. But Arthur didn’t release him; to the contrary, he turned both of them around, one hand sliding into Merlin’s hair, dragging him into yet another kiss, while he steered them slowly in the direction of the bed. And this was the moment when all kinds of warning bells started to ring in Merlin’s head, and this time, they didn’t sound like Camelot’s warning bells; the noise was so loud that Merlin had the feeling of standing directly under Emmanuel at Notre Dame while it was tolling.
Ripping his mouth away, Merlin somehow managed to bring one hand up to Arthur’s cheek, shoving him back a little. “Wait. Stop. This isn’t a good idea.” Even the still screeching voice of reason fell silent in awe when it heard this most intelligent sentence.
Arthur nodded sagely. “I know you think that,” he answered, took another step and let both of them drop onto the bed. The last bit of breath Merlin’s lungs still held whooshed out of him due to Arthur’s weight on top of him.
Merlin wheezed, Arthur straightened up a bit but not to say anything or let Merlin take a breath, no, he started to unbutton Merlin’s shirt.
“Arthur, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m undressing you.”
Merlin had always hated it with a passion when Arthur decided to play dumb and answered rhetorical questions. He almost asked, “Why?” but in the last moment, he stopped himself. He really didn’t want to hear the answer, not spoken in that voice. So he merely shook his head, not knowing what to do.
Eyes narrowed, Arthur suddenly looked at him. “Did I misread things?”
“What?”
“Well, this,” Arthur rolled his hips against Merlin’s erection, “tells me you do want it. If you don’t, tell me.”
Merlin stared up at him. The problem was he wasn’t able to look away from Arthur’s eyes. Under his hands, he could feel that the body in his arms was far too thin, too young for him. But Arthur’s eyes… they were the same they always had been. He knew he should stop this, but again, he tried to avert his eyes and couldn’t. It was as if Arthur had him spell-bound.
“Merlin?”
Merlin decided to just continue wheezing.
A slow smile spread on Arthur’s face. “All right then. Can you maybe try and, for once, just… go with the flow?”
Merlin wheezed again.
“I take this as a yes,” Arthur murmured, lowered his head and pressed a damp kiss on Merlin’s neck. Groaning embarrassingly loud, Merlin let his head fall to the side, baring even more of his throat, giving in. Just this once, he told himself. One time. Something inside his head snorted loudly at that thought but Merlin ignored it.
His shirt had completely fallen open by now, and Merlin wanted to even the field a bit. He took hold of Arthur’s sweater and t-shirt under it and dragged it over Arthur’s head, moaning with Arthur when their naked chests collided. Things became a bit hazy for Merlin then; the room swayed a bit from time to time and he was sure that it kind of changed… in some moments he could see a canopy, Camelot-red, over his head. Arthur seemed to want to devour him, and Merlin didn’t do anything besides lie under him, like a complete moron. Clothes vanished and Arthur chuckled a bit, which probably meant Merlin’s magic was running wild again; he certainly didn’t do a thing… he wasn’t able to cast even the simplest spell. And every time Merlin’s brain tried to surface Arthur seemed to know it and slid upwards again, kissing him, drowning every thought Merlin might have had until the only thing he could hear or think of was the whooshing sound in his ears.
One thing Merlin did notice on some level was that Arthur wasn’t exactly sure what to do with him; but that thought and what it meant let him tumble even faster to the edge. He somehow managed to move a bit; he let his arms wander up Arthur’s arms until they landed on his bony but still broad shoulders. Then he combed through the blond hair above him. He had always been fascinated by the blond locks, from the first moment he had laid eyes on the man. Arthur began to shift erratically over him, breathing heavily. His hips moved up and down quickly, pressing their erections together. Stretching out under him and spreading his legs wide, Merlin’s hand twisted in Arthur’s hair; he wanted another kiss, he wanted Arthur’s lips swallowing the embarrassing sounds Merlin made, but Arthur just moaned loudly, swerving, and then his mouth found Merlin’s neck again. He bit down, not too gently, and that was it. Crying out, Merlin came, head thrown back so far it hurt. About a second later, Arthur froze above him, almost growling, and came apart, too. He said something, but Merlin couldn’t understand him, couldn’t even see him; the only thing he did manage was clinging to the sweat-covered body lying on top of him. His magic swirled around them, the room and even Arthur seemed to change again and again until Merlin wasn’t sure anymore where he was and who the man in his arms was; the King of Camelot with longer hair and beard or the young, homeless Arthur he had found on the streets a week ago. His fingernails were digging into Arthur’s back like talons, not willing to let go. Arthur raised his head from Merlin’s shoulder, asking “Merlin?” but even that didn’t help, his voice sounded off, too.
Almost sobbing, Merlin lifted his head and thankfully, Arthur seemed to understand. He kissed him, deep and surely, anchoring him, until Merlin finally stopped shaking. Then Arthur slid off him without releasing him, wiped them down cursorily with the blanket, and crushed him into the next bear hug while dragging Merlin’s head onto his chest. Merlin thought he heard Arthur mumbling about things being all right, and really, he should have said something but couldn’t because he was fading too fast. The last thing Merlin noticed was Arthur wrapping the sheets around them, then he was out like a light.
Part 5