Fic: London, Said He (1/12)
Title: London, Said He
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 4900 (first chapter); 45k total
Warning: Temporary character death
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Author's Notes: It really does take a village. Thanks so much to percygranger and messyangel81, the best betas a girl could ask for; to numberthescars for the gorgeous cover image and divider; to eternal_jazz for holding my hand, listening to me when I whined, and countless pots of shared tea; to jbuggy for cheering me on and offering advice, even though I kept forgetting to email her; to go_fishboys for sharing her writing block pain; to the_muppet for organizing this madhouse; and to everyone in the paperlegends community for being so awesome.
Chapter 1: Camelot
At the end of an hour we saw a far-away town sleeping in a valley by a winding river; and beyond it on a hill, a vast gray fortress, with towers and turrets, the first I had ever seen out of a picture.
"Bridgeport?" said I, pointing.
"Camelot," said he.
-- Mark Twain, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
Merlin sighed as he struggled to keep pace with the rest of the knights. He shifted his pack on his shoulders as he stumbled down the dusty pathway back to Camelot. The bloody thing had all of his belongings, as well as Arthur’s, so it practically weighed more than he did. Only Gwaine was still in earshot, the rest of the group marching up ahead. Arthur was up near the front, shouting orders at the knights and arguing quietly with Leon.
“So,” Gwaine said, nudging Merlin with an elbow as they ambled along at the back of the group. “Have you told him yet?”
Merlin glared at his friend and adjusted his pack once more. Not that it did any good. “Told him what?”
Gwaine gestured wildly with his hands. “You know! How you feel, all that bollocks.”
Merlin pursed his lips. “Sure I have.”
Gwaine frowned, tilting his head back as if to get a better look at Merlin. “You… have?”
“I tell him pretty much daily. He’s a prat, and a git, and a clot pole, and an idiot.”
Gwaine barked out a sharp laugh before he managed to turn it into a cough. Percy, who was marching in front of them a way, turned and threw a raised eyebrow in their direction before facing back front. Gwaine leaned closer to whisper in Merlin’s ear. “Don’t be dense, Merlin.”
“Look,” Merlin hissed, “just because you sleep with everyone and everything you can get a leg over, doesn’t mean I-”
Gwaine smirked. “So you do know what sex is. I’d thought you were completely ignorant, considering how often you ignore my jokes.”
“I ignore your jokes because they aren’t funny.”
“Sure they are,” Gwaine said, clapping a broad hand on Merlin’s shoulder, making him stumble a few steps. Merlin glared at him sullenly once he’d regained his footing. Gwaine merely grinned, unblinking in the face of his ire. “I wasn’t talking about sex, you know.”
“Of course you weren’t.”
“Oh, come off it, Merlin. Everyone sees the way you look at him.”
Merlin shifted uncomfortably, feeling heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Like you can talk. I’ve seen the way you look at Percy.”
“Shut up,” Gwaine hissed, elbowing him in the side. “That’s entirely different.”
Sensing this was a battle he couldn’t win, Merlin asked, “Any recent conquests?”
Gwaine grinned broadly, his shoulders falling slack, seemingly as glad for the change in subject as Merlin was. “Well, someone sent me a love letter the other day.”
“Yeah? Was it Gaius?”
Gwaine smacked the top of Merlin’s head good-naturedly. “Not Gaius, you arse. It was from a secret admirer.”
“How d’you know it wasn’t Gaius, then?”
Gwaine wrinkled his nose. “I’d recognise the old fart’s handwriting.”
“He’s a clever one, you know. He’s smart enough to disguise his penmanship when writing anonymous love letters.”
Gwaine grinned at Merlin. “How do I know it wasn’t from you, then?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Never going to happen, Gwaine.”
“Not even a kiss?”
“No.”
“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Merlin.”
“My life of servitude has made me bitter and angry.”
Gwaine followed Merlin’s gaze to where Arthur was laughing at some joke Leon had made. “Aye, that it has. I can see how much you hate your master.”
“Oh, shut it, Gwaine.”
Merlin could feel his face heat as Arthur glanced back at them, raising an eyebrow at Merlin. Merlin stuck his tongue out at his prince, who merely grinned before turning back to Leon.
“I’m just saying, Merlin…”
Merlin jabbed Gwaine with his elbow, and both men spent the rest of the walk in silence. Gwaine, however, kept sneaking amused glances in Merlin’s direction, which Merlin pretended not to notice.
When they finally reached the castle, Arthur waved off Leon and turned back to look at Merlin. “Hurry up, Merlin. I haven’t got all day.”
“Of course, sire. I live to serve.”
Gwaine snorted from behind them, and Merlin studiously ignored him.
When he finally caught up to Arthur, they proceeded up the stairs of the castle in silence. Merlin shot Arthur a look from the corner of his eye every so often, but the other man was simply staring straight ahead, cloak flowing behind him majestically, hair ruffled artistically. In other words, Arthur looked every inch the prince he was. Whereas Merlin, with his shabby tunic, oddly fluffy hair sticking out every which way, and two gigantic ears as big as saucers, looked like a complete idiot.
When they finally arrived at Arthur’s private chambers, Merlin let the pack thud to the floor with a sigh of relief, rubbing his aching shoulders.
“Oi,” Arthur reprimanded, though his stern tone was undercut with an amused grin flickering at the edges of his mouth. “You had best not break my belongings, Merlin.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sire.” Merlin stretched, arms reaching up towards the ceiling, feeling his joints pop and revelling in the pull of his aching muscles.
When Merlin opened his eyes back up, Arthur jerked away, a guilty expression flickering across his face, as though he’d been doing something he oughtn’t.
Arthur cleared his throat as his gaze returned to meet Merlin’s. “You’ll need to wash my clothes and polish my armour,” Arthur said. “And check on the stables. Lord knows how filthy they’ve gotten since you’ve been gone.” Arthur raised an eyebrow when Merlin wrinkled his nose in displeasure. “That can wait until tomorrow, though.”
“Anything else?” Merlin asked, settling to lean against the door frame as he watched Arthur putter about his room, shuffling the papers on his desk.
Arthur glanced up at Merlin briefly before returning his attention back to his desk. “I’ll need help removing my armour, naturally.”
“Of course.” Merlin moved to start unbuckling Arthur’s plate mail. “Does Gwen know you’re back?”
Arthur shot him a pointed look before raising his arms so that Merlin had access to the side buckles. They worked in silence for a few moments before Arthur raised his gaze to meet Merlin’s. “Why would she care?”
Merlin’s hands stilled on the smooth metal, just for a moment, before he moved to lift the plate over Arthur’s head. “I’ve no idea, Arthur. Why would anyone who cared about you want to know you were still alive after coming back from a patrol?”
Arthur bit his lip, but said nothing.
Merlin slid his hands under the chain mail vest Arthur wore, hands lingering over the thick fabric of Arthur’s tunic. He could feel the soft shift of Arthur’s chest breathing in and out, the steady thump of his heartbeat. It was as close as Merlin would ever get to touching Arthur’s skin in a caress. Arthur raised his arms as Merlin lifted the mail over his head, smoothing it out on the bed. “Did you want me to prepare a bath?”
“No. It’s fine.”
Merlin hesitated, lingering in the doorway as Arthur moved behind the screen to strip out of his now-sweaty tunic and trousers, and change into his bed clothes. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.”
Arthur’s hands stilled behind the screen, and he shot Merlin a pointed look from over the top, mouth tweaking into a half-smile. “When do you ever not, Merlin?”
Merlin barked out a laugh as he backed through the doorway. “And just for that, tomorrow I’m going to call you dollop head.”
Arthur grimaced. “Better than clotpole.”
As Merlin was shutting the door behind him, he paused, just long enough to say, “Sleep well, sire.”
The last thing Merlin heard was Arthur’s voice ringing out, echoing into the hallway, “No thanks to you!”
After a night of tossing and turning, Merlin finally gave up on any pretence of sleep.
“Merlin.” Arthur glared from under his duvet as Merlin slipped through the door to Arthur’s chambers. “What are you doing?”
Merlin set down the porridge he was holding onto Arthur’s breakfast table, before he walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. The sun hadn’t yet risen; the sky was still a shade of dusky grey with the faintest hint of pink at the horizon. “Getting a fresh start. It’s a beautiful day.” He spun around, lifting his arms theatrically. “Rise and shine!”
Arthur groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. “I hate it when you’re cheerful before breakfast.”
Merlin hummed happily, laying down the place setting for Arthur’s breakfast. “Don’t worry, I still haven’t forgotten about calling you a dollop head.”
“Praise the gods,” Arthur mumbled from inside his blanket cocoon. He flung the covers aside, sitting up and rubbing his hands through his hair. “Really, though, Merlin. You never get up this early. Did you just spend the night in the tavern and come straight here instead of going to sleep?” He sniffed at the air pointedly, wrinkling his nose. “It would explain the smell.”
“No, that would be you, Arthur.”
“Oi!” Arthur said, flinging a pillow at Merlin’s head. “Which one of us is prince, here?”
“Yes, well, that just goes to show that titles aren’t everything.” Merlin squatted to pick up the pillow from where it had landed on the floor at his feet, and made his way over to the bedside.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, his face solemn, though Merlin could sense the grin hovering just below the surface. “Your highness.”
“Titles aren’t everything, your highness.”
“That’s better.”
Merlin grinned and shoved at Arthur’s shoulder. “Shut up and eat your breakfast.” He walked back to the breakfast table and pulled out the chair for Arthur to sit.
Arthur stood up, stretching, and wandered over. “It’s gone cold, Merlin.” Arthur frowned dubiously at the no-longer-steaming bowl of porridge.
“Has not,” Merlin lied. “You just waited too long to eat it.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and settled in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Bring me another.”
Merlin tried to hold back his grin, he really did. “Another what? Another prince? Afraid we only have one of those available.”
“Shame. Sure you don’t have a spare tucked away somewhere?”
“Sadly, no. It certainly would come in handy, wouldn’t it? Having a spare prince.”
“I’d be able to sleep in, for once.”
Merlin snorted.
“What?”
“You already sleep in, you lazy sod.”
“I was up before dawn today, I’ll have you know!” Arthur gestured animatedly at the window, where the first rays of sun were peeking out from under a layer of low flung clouds.
“Only because I woke you!”
“So?”
Merlin laughed, and his smile softened as he looked down at Arthur. “I wish every day could be like this.”
“Like what?” Arthur, too, had gone soft, his smile a gentle curve and his eyes crinkling up at the corners.
Merlin just shrugged in response. They were silent a moment, just looking at each other, before Arthur tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “Don’t forget to polish my armour.”
“Yes, sire.” Merlin started to make his way towards the door as Arthur picked up a spoon and started stirring the porridge.
“Put some elbow grease in, Merlin. I want to see my face reflected in it.”
“So vain.”
“Don’t talk back to your betters, Merlin.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sire.” Merlin shut the door behind him with a smile on his face.
Merlin was mucking out the stables when he felt it - a clenching sensation low in his belly, and a fear that seized his chest. His magic crackled in his fingertips, and he was just setting down his bucket on the stable floor when he heard the warning bells chiming, a slow, mournful sound.
He dashed up the steps to the castle without thinking, nausea churning in his stomach as he ran.
The castle was in an uproar. Merlin shoved his way past guards and servants alike as he made his way to Gaius’ chambers, the feeling of unease growing as he went.
Gwaine and Percival were standing outside the door of Gaius’ chambers, looking pale. When Merlin tried to run past, Gwaine reached out to grip Merlin’s arm.
“Merlin-“ Gwaine managed, but his voice sounded strangled.
“What’s happened?” Merlin wrenched his arm free and stared at Gwaine. The other man refused to look him in the eye, and Merlin’s nausea worsened. “Who is it?” Merlin knew the meaning of those bells, but more than that, he trusted the distressed writhing of his magic. Someone had died. Someone important. “Is Gaius all right?”
Gwaine swallowed visibly, but said nothing.
“Gwaine,” Merlin warned. His heart was thundering in his chest.
Gwaine simply averted his eyes and stepped back. “I’m so sorry, Merlin.” This time he did not try to hold Merlin back as he threw open the door to Gaius’ chambers and stormed inside.
Only to see Gaius, sitting in his customary chair, his back to the door, clutching Gwen’s hand and stroking her hair as she knelt on the floor, crying into his lap.
“Gaius?” Merlin called.
Gaius turned and Merlin could see his face was solemn, eyes tinged with a sadness Merlin had not seen since he had learned of Balinor’s passing. “Merlin.”
It was only then that Merlin saw the form stretched out on the cot in front of Gaius and Gwen. His skin was so very pale, blond hair falling in a mess across his forehead. Merlin tried to move forward to take his place at Arthur’s side, only to find that his legs had somehow stopped working. Try as he might, he could not take a single step.
Gwen looked up at Merlin, eyes puffy and red from crying. “He’s gone, Merlin.”
“What?”
“Ar- Arthur. He’s…” Gwen shook and buried her face in Gaius’ lap once more.
Merlin was next to the cot before he realised his muscles were working again. He stretched out a hand to touch Arthur’s cheek. It was still warm. “I don’t…”
Gaius’ voice echoed dully in the room, unable to mask the sound of Gwen’s sobs. “Prince Arthur is dead.”
Merlin turned back to Gaius. “No. It’s not- I was just speaking with him this morning. He told me to polish his armour. He was fine then. He was fine. He’s not-“
“Merlin,” Gwen interrupted, her voice cracking on the second syllable.
Merlin stared at her, silent, for a long moment, before falling to the floor as his knees gave out underneath him.
“Merlin,” a voice called. There was a pressure on his arm, tugging, trying to make him let go. But he was holding on to Arthur. He couldn’t let go. Letting go would mean…
“Merlin,” the voice repeated, more insistent. “Merlin, look at me.”
Merlin blinked and looked up into Gaius’ familiar features. “Merlin, you have to leave.”
“I… what?”
Gaius’ eyes fell shut, and his hand slipped from Merlin’s arm. Merlin looked around the room, startled to notice that Gwen was gone. It was just the three of them now, Merlin, Gaius, and... He glanced at the bed, at the prone figure whose arm he was clutching.
Gaius’ gentle voice interrupted any further thoughts. “You need to leave Camelot, Merlin.”
Merlin blinked rapidly at his uncle. “What? Why?”
“There has been talk, Merlin. Uther believes you to be responsible for…” Gaius looked over at Arthur’s body and his lips tightened.
It took a few moments for the implication to sink in. “Uther thinks that I- that I murdered…” He shut his eyes. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“There is no time for this, Merlin!” Gaius snapped. “You must leave the city, as soon as possible, or you will be executed!”
Merlin gripped Arthur’s cold wrist tightly before struggling to his feet. His legs trembled as pinpricks of pain flooded his muscles.
“Let go, Merlin,” Gaius said, his voice gentle.
“What?”
Callused fingers lay on top of Merlin’s, and he blinked down at his hand, which was still gripping Arthur’s wrist. With a heavily indrawn breath, he forced his fingers loose, and Gaius brought Merlin’s fist close to his chest.
“This is a dream. It must be. Morgana has bewitched me. All I need to do is wake up.”
Gaius shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you must go while you still can.”
The next few moments were a blur for Merlin, as Gaius thrust a loaded satchel in his arms and ushered him into the deserted hallway. Merlin was alone until he found himself, standing still as stone, outside of Arthur’s chambers. If he just opened the door, perhaps this would all turn out to be a bad dream…
“Merlin.” Leon was at his side, gripping his shoulder tightly. When had he gotten there?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in Merlin’s ear. “I told you to run, you idiot.” Ignoring Merlin’s confused look, Leon straightened and twisted Merlin’s arm behind his back. “You are hereby under arrest for the murder of the crown prince.”
By the time they had reached the doors to the throne room, Merlin had gathered his wits around him enough to at least maintain awareness of his surroundings. Leon’s grip on his arm was firm, but not over-rough; his remorse was apparent in his gait and his tense shoulders as much as in the guilty glances he kept throwing Merlin’s way as they marched down the corridor.
“… have suffered a great loss today,” Uther said, his voice echoing around the throne room. An assortment of knights and nobles filled the halls, heads bowed in respect as the king continued. “My son would have been a great king, and a fine ruler. My only wish is to bring his killers to justice. Sir Leon!” He stepped forward, cloak swishing behind him, and Leon’s grip tightened on Merlin’s arm. “Bring forward the boy.”
Merlin was pushed forward roughly, stumbling and falling to kneel before Uther. Two knights gathered around him, pushing down on his shoulders. The edge of Leon’s scabbard dug into the back of his head. Merlin kept his head bowed, looking at Uther’s boots, dark against the wooden floor.
“He was seen in the prince’s chambers, your Majesty,” Leon said. “At the time of his death.”
“I wasn’t,” Merlin said. “I was in the stables.” Leon coughed, his stance shifting behind Merlin; Merlin attempted to look up at Leon, but his scabbard simply dug further into the back of his skull. “I haven’t seen Arthur since-“
“Silence!” Uther shouted. “Sir Leon, please continue.”
Leon cleared his throat. “He said the prince’s drink had been poisoned.”
“Did you see Arthur drink it?”
“No, my liege.”
“Then that proves nothing.” Uther growled and the sound of his boot stamping the floor reverberated through Merlin’s skull.
Merlin’s thoughts raced - he hadn’t been anywhere near Arthur at the time of death, but Leon sounded so certain. Did he have a dopplegänger, somewhere in the castle? It must have been the murderer, disguised as Merlin, trying to throw Leon off the scent! “It could have been sorcery!”
He managed to crane his neck to look up at Leon, who was now looking at him as though he were mad. “What are you talking about?” Leon asked.
Uther sounded more defeated than angry when he spoke. “We have ruled out sorcery as an option; the boy is obviously lying. Furthermore, he denies his presence at the scene, in direct contradiction to the word of a knight. This is plain evidence of guilt.”
“No! I wouldn’t kill Arthur!” Merlin struggled to rise to his feet, and several knights pushed him forward, forcing his head back down so the only thing he could see were the king’s feet.
“Enough!” The boots withdrew, receding from Merlin’s view. “Take the boy to the dungeons. He will be executed at dawn.”
“Wait!” Merlin shouted, as the knights flanking him wrestled him back to his feet. “I didn’t kill Arthur - someone else did. You have to find out who it was!”
Uther had his back to Merlin, shoulders slumped, but when he turned to look at Merlin, his gaze was icy enough to send shivers down Merlin’s spine. “Do not try to talk yourself out of this, traitor. You will pay for what you did to my son.”
After being escorted to the dungeons, Merlin had paced back and forth within his cell until overcome with exhaustion. Now, he curled up on a straw pallet in the far corner of his cell, huddling against the cold dungeon walls. He stirred from a fitful slumber to the sound of heavy footsteps.
“Merlin,” Gaius called out, his voice pitched in a harsh whisper.
Merlin said nothing. This was not the first night Merlin had spent in the dungeons, but it looked as though it would be the last. All Merlin could think was that if Arthur was gone, it was just as well that he was to be executed.
“Merlin, come here. I think I may have found a way to fix this.”
Merlin dragged his eyes open and looked up to the hunched figure pressing his face in between the bars of the cell.
“Merlin, don’t just sit there. Do you want to save Arthur, or not?”
“I can’t save Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice cracking. “He’s dead.”
Gaius simply sighed. “Come here, Merlin.”
Merlin struggled to his feet and came up to the bars. Gaius handed him a folded slip of parchment. “This is very ancient, very powerful-“ Gaius looked over his shoulder, nervous. “You must cast this before your execution. It is a transportation spell. It will allow you to find exactly what you need to cure Arthur.”
Merlin narrowed his eyes. He had never heard of such magic before.
“It is,” Gaius paused, eyes flitting away from Merlin’s, “what your father used, a long time ago. To save your mother.”
“What?”
Gaius frowned, placing a long index finger against his pursed lips. “Hush. No one must know that this exists. But when Uther’s men first found Balinor after he fled to Ealdor… they did not succeed in arresting him. But they did fatally wound your mother.”
Merlin simply stared down at the parchment in his now-trembling hands.
“He used this spell to bring her back from death. I do not know how; he would not tell me. But he entrusted this spell to my care, should I ever have need of it.”
Merlin jolted as Gaius brushed Merlin’s knuckles with the tip of his index finger. “I must leave you now.”
Merlin simply nodded, and Gaius slipped quietly back up the stairs. Merlin unfolded the parchment and began to read.
Focusing on Arthur’s image, Merlin closed his eyes and murmured the words from the parchment, over and over, until his knees gave out and his breath failed him.
Merlin blinked, his vision slowly clearing, as he grew aware of his new surroundings. He was on the floor of someone’s sleeping quarters, lying on his stomach with his head turned to the left, a duvet hanging in front of his face from the bed towering in front of him. His left arm was trapped underneath his chest, pressed uncomfortably into cool, smooth stone. As he pushed himself up on his elbows, he heard a familiar snort behind him. “Merlin? Back already?” The shuffle of footsteps inched closer. “What are you doing on the floor, of all things?”
Merlin blinked as he rose to a sitting position, craning his neck to look up at Arthur’s smile - the corners of his mouth twitching up with exasperated amusement, and his eyebrows cocked in puzzlement. He felt dizzy, but his joy at seeing Arthur alive and whole overrode his fear. “I was inspecting the floor for cracks, sire. Terrible business. Sign of rot.”
Arthur lifted one eyebrow and the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth. “In a stone floor?”
Merlin nodded as he rose to his feet, dusting off the back of his breeches with his hands. “Even more dangerous than in a wood floor, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Merlin hesitated, eyeing Arthur critically. He appeared to be healthy. In fact, he looked perfectly fine. “Are you sure you’re all right, sire?”
“You’re not the one who should be asking that question.” Arthur’s smile faded, and he scrunched his eyebrows together in that way of his that meant, Are you really as daft as you look, Merlin, or are you even worse than that?
Merlin shook his head. “It’s just, I…” And then he realised - it hadn’t happened yet. Whatever it was that had killed Arthur had yet to occur. Merlin had a chance to stop it. He just needed to figure out how.
Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes, and moved to sit at the breakfast table. He was halfway through gathering a large bite of porridge when Merlin registered the danger.
“No!” Merlin shouted, lunging for Arthur’s spoon.
Have you gone mad? said Arthur’s eyebrows, but his mouth only managed, “Merlin!” before they were both sprawled on the tile, the chair knocked to the floor, sticky porridge coating Merlin’s hair, elbows lodged in the tender flesh of bellies and ribs, and Merlin’s hand gripping Arthur’s wrist as the spoon fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor. “What is wrong with you?”
Merlin stared at the spoon. “I ah, just remembered that your porridge was cold. You wanted me to get you a new one.”
“Merlin, I don’t know what your problem is this morning-“ and here he made a half-hearted attempt to shove Merlin off his chest, “-and I don’t want to know. What I do want is to eat my breakfast in peace, and carry on with my day.”
Merlin, still sprawled over Arthur, his belly warm under the fabric of his tunic (and Merlin really needed to stop noticing such things; he had more important problems to worry about right now), reached for the spoon loosely gripped in Arthur’s palm and sniffed suspiciously at the porridge.
“Get off me, you oaf!” Arthur managed to roll both of them over, so that this time Merlin was the one trapped between Arthur’s legs as he pushed off the floor with a grunt. “You’re insane, Merlin,” Arthur said, as he lifted himself to his feet.
Merlin was still laying on the floor, blood thrumming through his veins and heart beating unnaturally fast.
Then Arthur was reaching for his goblet, and before he had the clarity of mind to stop him, Arthur had downed the whole thing and turned to regard Merlin with a softening in his eyes. “Lord knows why I like you so much.”
And Merlin saw as Arthur collapsed, his knees giving out from under him.
No breaths fluttered from his mouth and nose. No heartbeat thudded under Merlin’s palms, curled around Arthur’s chest and back.
“Gaius!” Merlin shouted. “Someone!”
“Merlin?” a voice cried out from behind the heavy oak door to Arthur’s chambers.
“Arthur, he-“
The door burst open, and Leon rushed in, stumbling to a halt as he saw Arthur lying limp in Merlin’s embrace.
“He’s not breathing.”
Leon stumbled forward, gently extricating Arthur from Merlin’s hold. “What happened?”
“He drank from the goblet, and collapsed-“
“What did the goblet contain?”
“Water, it was just water.” He looked down at Arthur’s prone form and then quickly away. He needed to think, and seeing Arthur like this wasn’t helping. “It must have been poisoned, but when? I brought it up for Arthur’s breakfast, I poured it myself!”
Leon’s face paled. “Merlin. Did you-“
This was not right. Merlin had failed; Arthur was (still) dead. But now he knew that the goblet contained a poison. Merlin simply needed to go back and stop Arthur from drinking. Doubts, however, had already begun to creep in at the edge of Merlin’s consciousness. Arthur had also eaten the porridge, hadn’t he? Or it could have been an enchantment, something Merlin hadn’t seen, and he couldn’t risk going back a third time and being seen by Arthur more than once-
“You must leave,” Leon said, interrupting Merlin’s train of thought. His jaw clenched as he rose to his feet. “Now. If I find you in Camelot, I will have no choice but to arrest you.”
Merlin blinked, his mind still spinning with how to go back and try to save Arthur once more. The meaning of Leon’s words finally sank in, and he jerked back in alarm. “What?” Merlin’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “No!”
“The prince has been poisoned, most likely by your hand, Merlin. Whether you meant it or not. Leave. Before I change my mind!”
“Take him to Gaius, he might be able to-“
“I will! Now go!”
Merlin fled.
He quickly ducked into a dark corner in the corridor outside Arthur’s chambers, heart pounding in his ears. He crowded against the stone wall, barely daring to breathe, as two guards marched past his hiding place.
Merlin needed more time to form a plan and to determine what had poisoned Arthur, and how. But he would find no solace here. He had already failed to save Arthur once, and he could not afford to make any more mistakes.
He could feel his magic pooling at the edges of his fingertips, desperate to escape. This time, the words rolled off of his tongue more easily, and it only took two tries before he felt a warm sensation in his belly. In a rush of power, his magic swirled through and around him.
I can’t lose him, he thought, as darkness closed in around him. Give him back to me.
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Rating: R
Genres: Science Fiction (Time Travel), Humour, Romance
Era: Mix of canon-era and near-future (22nd century) reincarnation era
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Gwaine/Merlin, implied Gwaine/Percy
Wordcount: 4900 (first chapter); 45k total
Warning: Temporary character death
This really hasn't been Merlin's day. Or week. Or month, really. Seeing his best friend die in front of him was bad enough. But magicking himself into the future in order to save Arthur? Probably not as good an idea as it seemed on paper. And this future version of Gwaine will not stop hitting on him. Even in front of the future Arthur - talk about embarrassing. Especially since Merlin needs to get to know this Arthur if he's ever going to figure out how to save his.
Author's Notes: It really does take a village. Thanks so much to percygranger and messyangel81, the best betas a girl could ask for; to numberthescars for the gorgeous cover image and divider; to eternal_jazz for holding my hand, listening to me when I whined, and countless pots of shared tea; to jbuggy for cheering me on and offering advice, even though I kept forgetting to email her; to go_fishboys for sharing her writing block pain; to the_muppet for organizing this madhouse; and to everyone in the paperlegends community for being so awesome.
Chapter 1: Camelot
At the end of an hour we saw a far-away town sleeping in a valley by a winding river; and beyond it on a hill, a vast gray fortress, with towers and turrets, the first I had ever seen out of a picture.
"Bridgeport?" said I, pointing.
"Camelot," said he.
-- Mark Twain, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
Merlin sighed as he struggled to keep pace with the rest of the knights. He shifted his pack on his shoulders as he stumbled down the dusty pathway back to Camelot. The bloody thing had all of his belongings, as well as Arthur’s, so it practically weighed more than he did. Only Gwaine was still in earshot, the rest of the group marching up ahead. Arthur was up near the front, shouting orders at the knights and arguing quietly with Leon.
“So,” Gwaine said, nudging Merlin with an elbow as they ambled along at the back of the group. “Have you told him yet?”
Merlin glared at his friend and adjusted his pack once more. Not that it did any good. “Told him what?”
Gwaine gestured wildly with his hands. “You know! How you feel, all that bollocks.”
Merlin pursed his lips. “Sure I have.”
Gwaine frowned, tilting his head back as if to get a better look at Merlin. “You… have?”
“I tell him pretty much daily. He’s a prat, and a git, and a clot pole, and an idiot.”
Gwaine barked out a sharp laugh before he managed to turn it into a cough. Percy, who was marching in front of them a way, turned and threw a raised eyebrow in their direction before facing back front. Gwaine leaned closer to whisper in Merlin’s ear. “Don’t be dense, Merlin.”
“Look,” Merlin hissed, “just because you sleep with everyone and everything you can get a leg over, doesn’t mean I-”
Gwaine smirked. “So you do know what sex is. I’d thought you were completely ignorant, considering how often you ignore my jokes.”
“I ignore your jokes because they aren’t funny.”
“Sure they are,” Gwaine said, clapping a broad hand on Merlin’s shoulder, making him stumble a few steps. Merlin glared at him sullenly once he’d regained his footing. Gwaine merely grinned, unblinking in the face of his ire. “I wasn’t talking about sex, you know.”
“Of course you weren’t.”
“Oh, come off it, Merlin. Everyone sees the way you look at him.”
Merlin shifted uncomfortably, feeling heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Like you can talk. I’ve seen the way you look at Percy.”
“Shut up,” Gwaine hissed, elbowing him in the side. “That’s entirely different.”
Sensing this was a battle he couldn’t win, Merlin asked, “Any recent conquests?”
Gwaine grinned broadly, his shoulders falling slack, seemingly as glad for the change in subject as Merlin was. “Well, someone sent me a love letter the other day.”
“Yeah? Was it Gaius?”
Gwaine smacked the top of Merlin’s head good-naturedly. “Not Gaius, you arse. It was from a secret admirer.”
“How d’you know it wasn’t Gaius, then?”
Gwaine wrinkled his nose. “I’d recognise the old fart’s handwriting.”
“He’s a clever one, you know. He’s smart enough to disguise his penmanship when writing anonymous love letters.”
Gwaine grinned at Merlin. “How do I know it wasn’t from you, then?”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Never going to happen, Gwaine.”
“Not even a kiss?”
“No.”
“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Merlin.”
“My life of servitude has made me bitter and angry.”
Gwaine followed Merlin’s gaze to where Arthur was laughing at some joke Leon had made. “Aye, that it has. I can see how much you hate your master.”
“Oh, shut it, Gwaine.”
Merlin could feel his face heat as Arthur glanced back at them, raising an eyebrow at Merlin. Merlin stuck his tongue out at his prince, who merely grinned before turning back to Leon.
“I’m just saying, Merlin…”
Merlin jabbed Gwaine with his elbow, and both men spent the rest of the walk in silence. Gwaine, however, kept sneaking amused glances in Merlin’s direction, which Merlin pretended not to notice.
When they finally reached the castle, Arthur waved off Leon and turned back to look at Merlin. “Hurry up, Merlin. I haven’t got all day.”
“Of course, sire. I live to serve.”
Gwaine snorted from behind them, and Merlin studiously ignored him.
When he finally caught up to Arthur, they proceeded up the stairs of the castle in silence. Merlin shot Arthur a look from the corner of his eye every so often, but the other man was simply staring straight ahead, cloak flowing behind him majestically, hair ruffled artistically. In other words, Arthur looked every inch the prince he was. Whereas Merlin, with his shabby tunic, oddly fluffy hair sticking out every which way, and two gigantic ears as big as saucers, looked like a complete idiot.
When they finally arrived at Arthur’s private chambers, Merlin let the pack thud to the floor with a sigh of relief, rubbing his aching shoulders.
“Oi,” Arthur reprimanded, though his stern tone was undercut with an amused grin flickering at the edges of his mouth. “You had best not break my belongings, Merlin.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sire.” Merlin stretched, arms reaching up towards the ceiling, feeling his joints pop and revelling in the pull of his aching muscles.
When Merlin opened his eyes back up, Arthur jerked away, a guilty expression flickering across his face, as though he’d been doing something he oughtn’t.
Arthur cleared his throat as his gaze returned to meet Merlin’s. “You’ll need to wash my clothes and polish my armour,” Arthur said. “And check on the stables. Lord knows how filthy they’ve gotten since you’ve been gone.” Arthur raised an eyebrow when Merlin wrinkled his nose in displeasure. “That can wait until tomorrow, though.”
“Anything else?” Merlin asked, settling to lean against the door frame as he watched Arthur putter about his room, shuffling the papers on his desk.
Arthur glanced up at Merlin briefly before returning his attention back to his desk. “I’ll need help removing my armour, naturally.”
“Of course.” Merlin moved to start unbuckling Arthur’s plate mail. “Does Gwen know you’re back?”
Arthur shot him a pointed look before raising his arms so that Merlin had access to the side buckles. They worked in silence for a few moments before Arthur raised his gaze to meet Merlin’s. “Why would she care?”
Merlin’s hands stilled on the smooth metal, just for a moment, before he moved to lift the plate over Arthur’s head. “I’ve no idea, Arthur. Why would anyone who cared about you want to know you were still alive after coming back from a patrol?”
Arthur bit his lip, but said nothing.
Merlin slid his hands under the chain mail vest Arthur wore, hands lingering over the thick fabric of Arthur’s tunic. He could feel the soft shift of Arthur’s chest breathing in and out, the steady thump of his heartbeat. It was as close as Merlin would ever get to touching Arthur’s skin in a caress. Arthur raised his arms as Merlin lifted the mail over his head, smoothing it out on the bed. “Did you want me to prepare a bath?”
“No. It’s fine.”
Merlin hesitated, lingering in the doorway as Arthur moved behind the screen to strip out of his now-sweaty tunic and trousers, and change into his bed clothes. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.”
Arthur’s hands stilled behind the screen, and he shot Merlin a pointed look from over the top, mouth tweaking into a half-smile. “When do you ever not, Merlin?”
Merlin barked out a laugh as he backed through the doorway. “And just for that, tomorrow I’m going to call you dollop head.”
Arthur grimaced. “Better than clotpole.”
As Merlin was shutting the door behind him, he paused, just long enough to say, “Sleep well, sire.”
The last thing Merlin heard was Arthur’s voice ringing out, echoing into the hallway, “No thanks to you!”
After a night of tossing and turning, Merlin finally gave up on any pretence of sleep.
“Merlin.” Arthur glared from under his duvet as Merlin slipped through the door to Arthur’s chambers. “What are you doing?”
Merlin set down the porridge he was holding onto Arthur’s breakfast table, before he walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open. The sun hadn’t yet risen; the sky was still a shade of dusky grey with the faintest hint of pink at the horizon. “Getting a fresh start. It’s a beautiful day.” He spun around, lifting his arms theatrically. “Rise and shine!”
Arthur groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head. “I hate it when you’re cheerful before breakfast.”
Merlin hummed happily, laying down the place setting for Arthur’s breakfast. “Don’t worry, I still haven’t forgotten about calling you a dollop head.”
“Praise the gods,” Arthur mumbled from inside his blanket cocoon. He flung the covers aside, sitting up and rubbing his hands through his hair. “Really, though, Merlin. You never get up this early. Did you just spend the night in the tavern and come straight here instead of going to sleep?” He sniffed at the air pointedly, wrinkling his nose. “It would explain the smell.”
“No, that would be you, Arthur.”
“Oi!” Arthur said, flinging a pillow at Merlin’s head. “Which one of us is prince, here?”
“Yes, well, that just goes to show that titles aren’t everything.” Merlin squatted to pick up the pillow from where it had landed on the floor at his feet, and made his way over to the bedside.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, his face solemn, though Merlin could sense the grin hovering just below the surface. “Your highness.”
“Titles aren’t everything, your highness.”
“That’s better.”
Merlin grinned and shoved at Arthur’s shoulder. “Shut up and eat your breakfast.” He walked back to the breakfast table and pulled out the chair for Arthur to sit.
Arthur stood up, stretching, and wandered over. “It’s gone cold, Merlin.” Arthur frowned dubiously at the no-longer-steaming bowl of porridge.
“Has not,” Merlin lied. “You just waited too long to eat it.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and settled in the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Bring me another.”
Merlin tried to hold back his grin, he really did. “Another what? Another prince? Afraid we only have one of those available.”
“Shame. Sure you don’t have a spare tucked away somewhere?”
“Sadly, no. It certainly would come in handy, wouldn’t it? Having a spare prince.”
“I’d be able to sleep in, for once.”
Merlin snorted.
“What?”
“You already sleep in, you lazy sod.”
“I was up before dawn today, I’ll have you know!” Arthur gestured animatedly at the window, where the first rays of sun were peeking out from under a layer of low flung clouds.
“Only because I woke you!”
“So?”
Merlin laughed, and his smile softened as he looked down at Arthur. “I wish every day could be like this.”
“Like what?” Arthur, too, had gone soft, his smile a gentle curve and his eyes crinkling up at the corners.
Merlin just shrugged in response. They were silent a moment, just looking at each other, before Arthur tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. “Don’t forget to polish my armour.”
“Yes, sire.” Merlin started to make his way towards the door as Arthur picked up a spoon and started stirring the porridge.
“Put some elbow grease in, Merlin. I want to see my face reflected in it.”
“So vain.”
“Don’t talk back to your betters, Merlin.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sire.” Merlin shut the door behind him with a smile on his face.
Merlin was mucking out the stables when he felt it - a clenching sensation low in his belly, and a fear that seized his chest. His magic crackled in his fingertips, and he was just setting down his bucket on the stable floor when he heard the warning bells chiming, a slow, mournful sound.
He dashed up the steps to the castle without thinking, nausea churning in his stomach as he ran.
The castle was in an uproar. Merlin shoved his way past guards and servants alike as he made his way to Gaius’ chambers, the feeling of unease growing as he went.
Gwaine and Percival were standing outside the door of Gaius’ chambers, looking pale. When Merlin tried to run past, Gwaine reached out to grip Merlin’s arm.
“Merlin-“ Gwaine managed, but his voice sounded strangled.
“What’s happened?” Merlin wrenched his arm free and stared at Gwaine. The other man refused to look him in the eye, and Merlin’s nausea worsened. “Who is it?” Merlin knew the meaning of those bells, but more than that, he trusted the distressed writhing of his magic. Someone had died. Someone important. “Is Gaius all right?”
Gwaine swallowed visibly, but said nothing.
“Gwaine,” Merlin warned. His heart was thundering in his chest.
Gwaine simply averted his eyes and stepped back. “I’m so sorry, Merlin.” This time he did not try to hold Merlin back as he threw open the door to Gaius’ chambers and stormed inside.
Only to see Gaius, sitting in his customary chair, his back to the door, clutching Gwen’s hand and stroking her hair as she knelt on the floor, crying into his lap.
“Gaius?” Merlin called.
Gaius turned and Merlin could see his face was solemn, eyes tinged with a sadness Merlin had not seen since he had learned of Balinor’s passing. “Merlin.”
It was only then that Merlin saw the form stretched out on the cot in front of Gaius and Gwen. His skin was so very pale, blond hair falling in a mess across his forehead. Merlin tried to move forward to take his place at Arthur’s side, only to find that his legs had somehow stopped working. Try as he might, he could not take a single step.
Gwen looked up at Merlin, eyes puffy and red from crying. “He’s gone, Merlin.”
“What?”
“Ar- Arthur. He’s…” Gwen shook and buried her face in Gaius’ lap once more.
Merlin was next to the cot before he realised his muscles were working again. He stretched out a hand to touch Arthur’s cheek. It was still warm. “I don’t…”
Gaius’ voice echoed dully in the room, unable to mask the sound of Gwen’s sobs. “Prince Arthur is dead.”
Merlin turned back to Gaius. “No. It’s not- I was just speaking with him this morning. He told me to polish his armour. He was fine then. He was fine. He’s not-“
“Merlin,” Gwen interrupted, her voice cracking on the second syllable.
Merlin stared at her, silent, for a long moment, before falling to the floor as his knees gave out underneath him.
“Merlin,” a voice called. There was a pressure on his arm, tugging, trying to make him let go. But he was holding on to Arthur. He couldn’t let go. Letting go would mean…
“Merlin,” the voice repeated, more insistent. “Merlin, look at me.”
Merlin blinked and looked up into Gaius’ familiar features. “Merlin, you have to leave.”
“I… what?”
Gaius’ eyes fell shut, and his hand slipped from Merlin’s arm. Merlin looked around the room, startled to notice that Gwen was gone. It was just the three of them now, Merlin, Gaius, and... He glanced at the bed, at the prone figure whose arm he was clutching.
Gaius’ gentle voice interrupted any further thoughts. “You need to leave Camelot, Merlin.”
Merlin blinked rapidly at his uncle. “What? Why?”
“There has been talk, Merlin. Uther believes you to be responsible for…” Gaius looked over at Arthur’s body and his lips tightened.
It took a few moments for the implication to sink in. “Uther thinks that I- that I murdered…” He shut his eyes. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“There is no time for this, Merlin!” Gaius snapped. “You must leave the city, as soon as possible, or you will be executed!”
Merlin gripped Arthur’s cold wrist tightly before struggling to his feet. His legs trembled as pinpricks of pain flooded his muscles.
“Let go, Merlin,” Gaius said, his voice gentle.
“What?”
Callused fingers lay on top of Merlin’s, and he blinked down at his hand, which was still gripping Arthur’s wrist. With a heavily indrawn breath, he forced his fingers loose, and Gaius brought Merlin’s fist close to his chest.
“This is a dream. It must be. Morgana has bewitched me. All I need to do is wake up.”
Gaius shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you must go while you still can.”
The next few moments were a blur for Merlin, as Gaius thrust a loaded satchel in his arms and ushered him into the deserted hallway. Merlin was alone until he found himself, standing still as stone, outside of Arthur’s chambers. If he just opened the door, perhaps this would all turn out to be a bad dream…
“Merlin.” Leon was at his side, gripping his shoulder tightly. When had he gotten there?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in Merlin’s ear. “I told you to run, you idiot.” Ignoring Merlin’s confused look, Leon straightened and twisted Merlin’s arm behind his back. “You are hereby under arrest for the murder of the crown prince.”
By the time they had reached the doors to the throne room, Merlin had gathered his wits around him enough to at least maintain awareness of his surroundings. Leon’s grip on his arm was firm, but not over-rough; his remorse was apparent in his gait and his tense shoulders as much as in the guilty glances he kept throwing Merlin’s way as they marched down the corridor.
“… have suffered a great loss today,” Uther said, his voice echoing around the throne room. An assortment of knights and nobles filled the halls, heads bowed in respect as the king continued. “My son would have been a great king, and a fine ruler. My only wish is to bring his killers to justice. Sir Leon!” He stepped forward, cloak swishing behind him, and Leon’s grip tightened on Merlin’s arm. “Bring forward the boy.”
Merlin was pushed forward roughly, stumbling and falling to kneel before Uther. Two knights gathered around him, pushing down on his shoulders. The edge of Leon’s scabbard dug into the back of his head. Merlin kept his head bowed, looking at Uther’s boots, dark against the wooden floor.
“He was seen in the prince’s chambers, your Majesty,” Leon said. “At the time of his death.”
“I wasn’t,” Merlin said. “I was in the stables.” Leon coughed, his stance shifting behind Merlin; Merlin attempted to look up at Leon, but his scabbard simply dug further into the back of his skull. “I haven’t seen Arthur since-“
“Silence!” Uther shouted. “Sir Leon, please continue.”
Leon cleared his throat. “He said the prince’s drink had been poisoned.”
“Did you see Arthur drink it?”
“No, my liege.”
“Then that proves nothing.” Uther growled and the sound of his boot stamping the floor reverberated through Merlin’s skull.
Merlin’s thoughts raced - he hadn’t been anywhere near Arthur at the time of death, but Leon sounded so certain. Did he have a dopplegänger, somewhere in the castle? It must have been the murderer, disguised as Merlin, trying to throw Leon off the scent! “It could have been sorcery!”
He managed to crane his neck to look up at Leon, who was now looking at him as though he were mad. “What are you talking about?” Leon asked.
Uther sounded more defeated than angry when he spoke. “We have ruled out sorcery as an option; the boy is obviously lying. Furthermore, he denies his presence at the scene, in direct contradiction to the word of a knight. This is plain evidence of guilt.”
“No! I wouldn’t kill Arthur!” Merlin struggled to rise to his feet, and several knights pushed him forward, forcing his head back down so the only thing he could see were the king’s feet.
“Enough!” The boots withdrew, receding from Merlin’s view. “Take the boy to the dungeons. He will be executed at dawn.”
“Wait!” Merlin shouted, as the knights flanking him wrestled him back to his feet. “I didn’t kill Arthur - someone else did. You have to find out who it was!”
Uther had his back to Merlin, shoulders slumped, but when he turned to look at Merlin, his gaze was icy enough to send shivers down Merlin’s spine. “Do not try to talk yourself out of this, traitor. You will pay for what you did to my son.”
After being escorted to the dungeons, Merlin had paced back and forth within his cell until overcome with exhaustion. Now, he curled up on a straw pallet in the far corner of his cell, huddling against the cold dungeon walls. He stirred from a fitful slumber to the sound of heavy footsteps.
“Merlin,” Gaius called out, his voice pitched in a harsh whisper.
Merlin said nothing. This was not the first night Merlin had spent in the dungeons, but it looked as though it would be the last. All Merlin could think was that if Arthur was gone, it was just as well that he was to be executed.
“Merlin, come here. I think I may have found a way to fix this.”
Merlin dragged his eyes open and looked up to the hunched figure pressing his face in between the bars of the cell.
“Merlin, don’t just sit there. Do you want to save Arthur, or not?”
“I can’t save Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice cracking. “He’s dead.”
Gaius simply sighed. “Come here, Merlin.”
Merlin struggled to his feet and came up to the bars. Gaius handed him a folded slip of parchment. “This is very ancient, very powerful-“ Gaius looked over his shoulder, nervous. “You must cast this before your execution. It is a transportation spell. It will allow you to find exactly what you need to cure Arthur.”
Merlin narrowed his eyes. He had never heard of such magic before.
“It is,” Gaius paused, eyes flitting away from Merlin’s, “what your father used, a long time ago. To save your mother.”
“What?”
Gaius frowned, placing a long index finger against his pursed lips. “Hush. No one must know that this exists. But when Uther’s men first found Balinor after he fled to Ealdor… they did not succeed in arresting him. But they did fatally wound your mother.”
Merlin simply stared down at the parchment in his now-trembling hands.
“He used this spell to bring her back from death. I do not know how; he would not tell me. But he entrusted this spell to my care, should I ever have need of it.”
Merlin jolted as Gaius brushed Merlin’s knuckles with the tip of his index finger. “I must leave you now.”
Merlin simply nodded, and Gaius slipped quietly back up the stairs. Merlin unfolded the parchment and began to read.
Focusing on Arthur’s image, Merlin closed his eyes and murmured the words from the parchment, over and over, until his knees gave out and his breath failed him.
Merlin blinked, his vision slowly clearing, as he grew aware of his new surroundings. He was on the floor of someone’s sleeping quarters, lying on his stomach with his head turned to the left, a duvet hanging in front of his face from the bed towering in front of him. His left arm was trapped underneath his chest, pressed uncomfortably into cool, smooth stone. As he pushed himself up on his elbows, he heard a familiar snort behind him. “Merlin? Back already?” The shuffle of footsteps inched closer. “What are you doing on the floor, of all things?”
Merlin blinked as he rose to a sitting position, craning his neck to look up at Arthur’s smile - the corners of his mouth twitching up with exasperated amusement, and his eyebrows cocked in puzzlement. He felt dizzy, but his joy at seeing Arthur alive and whole overrode his fear. “I was inspecting the floor for cracks, sire. Terrible business. Sign of rot.”
Arthur lifted one eyebrow and the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth. “In a stone floor?”
Merlin nodded as he rose to his feet, dusting off the back of his breeches with his hands. “Even more dangerous than in a wood floor, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Merlin hesitated, eyeing Arthur critically. He appeared to be healthy. In fact, he looked perfectly fine. “Are you sure you’re all right, sire?”
“You’re not the one who should be asking that question.” Arthur’s smile faded, and he scrunched his eyebrows together in that way of his that meant, Are you really as daft as you look, Merlin, or are you even worse than that?
Merlin shook his head. “It’s just, I…” And then he realised - it hadn’t happened yet. Whatever it was that had killed Arthur had yet to occur. Merlin had a chance to stop it. He just needed to figure out how.
Arthur shook his head, rolling his eyes, and moved to sit at the breakfast table. He was halfway through gathering a large bite of porridge when Merlin registered the danger.
“No!” Merlin shouted, lunging for Arthur’s spoon.
Have you gone mad? said Arthur’s eyebrows, but his mouth only managed, “Merlin!” before they were both sprawled on the tile, the chair knocked to the floor, sticky porridge coating Merlin’s hair, elbows lodged in the tender flesh of bellies and ribs, and Merlin’s hand gripping Arthur’s wrist as the spoon fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor. “What is wrong with you?”
Merlin stared at the spoon. “I ah, just remembered that your porridge was cold. You wanted me to get you a new one.”
“Merlin, I don’t know what your problem is this morning-“ and here he made a half-hearted attempt to shove Merlin off his chest, “-and I don’t want to know. What I do want is to eat my breakfast in peace, and carry on with my day.”
Merlin, still sprawled over Arthur, his belly warm under the fabric of his tunic (and Merlin really needed to stop noticing such things; he had more important problems to worry about right now), reached for the spoon loosely gripped in Arthur’s palm and sniffed suspiciously at the porridge.
“Get off me, you oaf!” Arthur managed to roll both of them over, so that this time Merlin was the one trapped between Arthur’s legs as he pushed off the floor with a grunt. “You’re insane, Merlin,” Arthur said, as he lifted himself to his feet.
Merlin was still laying on the floor, blood thrumming through his veins and heart beating unnaturally fast.
Then Arthur was reaching for his goblet, and before he had the clarity of mind to stop him, Arthur had downed the whole thing and turned to regard Merlin with a softening in his eyes. “Lord knows why I like you so much.”
And Merlin saw as Arthur collapsed, his knees giving out from under him.
No breaths fluttered from his mouth and nose. No heartbeat thudded under Merlin’s palms, curled around Arthur’s chest and back.
“Gaius!” Merlin shouted. “Someone!”
“Merlin?” a voice cried out from behind the heavy oak door to Arthur’s chambers.
“Arthur, he-“
The door burst open, and Leon rushed in, stumbling to a halt as he saw Arthur lying limp in Merlin’s embrace.
“He’s not breathing.”
Leon stumbled forward, gently extricating Arthur from Merlin’s hold. “What happened?”
“He drank from the goblet, and collapsed-“
“What did the goblet contain?”
“Water, it was just water.” He looked down at Arthur’s prone form and then quickly away. He needed to think, and seeing Arthur like this wasn’t helping. “It must have been poisoned, but when? I brought it up for Arthur’s breakfast, I poured it myself!”
Leon’s face paled. “Merlin. Did you-“
This was not right. Merlin had failed; Arthur was (still) dead. But now he knew that the goblet contained a poison. Merlin simply needed to go back and stop Arthur from drinking. Doubts, however, had already begun to creep in at the edge of Merlin’s consciousness. Arthur had also eaten the porridge, hadn’t he? Or it could have been an enchantment, something Merlin hadn’t seen, and he couldn’t risk going back a third time and being seen by Arthur more than once-
“You must leave,” Leon said, interrupting Merlin’s train of thought. His jaw clenched as he rose to his feet. “Now. If I find you in Camelot, I will have no choice but to arrest you.”
Merlin blinked, his mind still spinning with how to go back and try to save Arthur once more. The meaning of Leon’s words finally sank in, and he jerked back in alarm. “What?” Merlin’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “No!”
“The prince has been poisoned, most likely by your hand, Merlin. Whether you meant it or not. Leave. Before I change my mind!”
“Take him to Gaius, he might be able to-“
“I will! Now go!”
Merlin fled.
He quickly ducked into a dark corner in the corridor outside Arthur’s chambers, heart pounding in his ears. He crowded against the stone wall, barely daring to breathe, as two guards marched past his hiding place.
Merlin needed more time to form a plan and to determine what had poisoned Arthur, and how. But he would find no solace here. He had already failed to save Arthur once, and he could not afford to make any more mistakes.
He could feel his magic pooling at the edges of his fingertips, desperate to escape. This time, the words rolled off of his tongue more easily, and it only took two tries before he felt a warm sensation in his belly. In a rush of power, his magic swirled through and around him.
I can’t lose him, he thought, as darkness closed in around him. Give him back to me.
Chapter 2: Let's Do the Time Warp Again