Mykonos 9/16
| Masterpost| Part Eight|
As he wandered through the city, taking in the booth cafés and the towering office buildings, he searched for somewhere to stay. There were hotels and other places to stay in the old books Merlin had read, so he’d simply assumed there was somewhere he’d be able to stay.
But Camelot weren’t accepting new people. Why should they run hotels when there was no need? Assuming that everyone got their own home, which would be the most practical thing, what was the point of hotels?
He turned onto another road and it was almost as though he’d stepped into another world. The pavements were cluttered with people, most laughing and smiling under the twinkle of electric lights, and there were rows of open shops, restaurants and other places of interest. Somehow, Merlin had stumbled upon the heart of the Sky City, to the buzzing core of it all and he couldn’t help but smile.
He’d missed seeing so many people in one place with smiles. He’d missed looking through groups of people to see a women smiling and men laughing, genuinely happy people. Merlin smiled slightly dumbly, picking his way through the masses of people and looking around in interest.
It was dark, almost night time (though Merlin wasn’t sure if the sky shown above was real or a fake, and he was more inclined to think that it was a fake) and bright signs shone, reflecting off of metal structures.
The whole city twinkled with the electricity that was slowly choking it and Merlin had to look away. Yes, it was beautiful, but he knew the price of such beauty, and once you looked past the superficial twinkle, all that was left was an ugly backbone. True, it was disguised by lights and huge signs, luring the people of Camelot into their trap and the never ending spiral that would be the downfall of the New World, but that made it no less true.
A growl sounded and Merlin’s whole middle jerked as his stomach made his hunger known. He was surprised that he’d lasted this long, in complete honesty, as the last thing he’d eaten had been the dirt-tasting bulb that Mordred had given him, and it wasn’t exactly a staple meal. He’d have to eat first and then see about sleep, as the pain in his stomach spread, clawing at his insides and almost doubling Merlin with its vigour.
There was a glaring sign that stood out, even amongst the other rows of shops and food places. It was plain, compared to the fancy lettering and coloured lights around Merlin, but it toted a word Merlin was familiar with and he headed towards it, wondering how easy it would be to get food at The Restaurant.
Merlin looked through the window and saw people of all types inside, a few in a uniform to match Merlin’s. That made him relax a little, and he slid his hand into his pocket to clutch at the wallet, bringing it out less shakily than he had the last time he’d used the cards, knowing that he’d have to use them as it was his only source of money.
At the door, there was a holographic person, a cheerful woman, and she greeted Merlin with a chirpy hello, welcoming him in. And, as predicted, she asked him to insert his card, so Merlin did so, hoping that he’d got the right one the first time around.
The woman’s image flickered as a small, red light beeped over the slot Merlin had entered the card, and he gave a slight snort of laughter, throwing a look over his shoulder. There were a few people behind him, but none seemed too worried by how long Merlin was taking.
He slid another card in, but the red light refused to budge, so Merlin looked at the wallet again, realising that he had no more cards.
“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, biting his lower lip as he decided what to do. He obviously couldn’t go in, but he needed to eat. Was the reason the card didn’t work due to there not being enough money - or whatever they used - on it, or had Merlin’s switch been noticed?
Merlin closed his eyes, about to step out of the line to look for rubbish disposal sites - there had to be some, right? And there would be food there at least - when the woman behind him tapped his shoulder.
“Sorry sir,” she said politely, smiling as she tucked a dark curl behind her ear. “Are your cards not working?”
Swallowing thickly, Merlin shook his head.
“How about I get you in on mine? I was supposed to meet someone for dinner but they cancelled, so you can repay me by keeping me company?” Merlin was about to protest when someone behind the woman harrumphed loudly and she moved forwards, slotting the card in and speaking to the holographic woman, telling her that she wanted two people to be charged.
“No, really I-“ Merlin began, but the woman simply shook her head, cheeks reddening.
“Please,” she cut in, “I don’t want to eat by myself and I’ve already paid for you now. You have to come.”
Shooting a glance out at the street, Merlin realised that there wasn’t any other option he’d prefer. It was easy to push aside the doors and follow the woman - he didn’t even know her name for pity’s sake - down to a table, sitting down on a plush chair opposite her.
“It’s not the nicest place,” she was saying, placing her bag on the table and rifling through to find a purse. “But the food’s better than you’d expect and it’s good value for money. Especially considering the stock crises at the moment and all,” she said, tilting her head expectantly at Merlin, obviously hinting that this stock issue was a massive problem and everyone should know.
“Um… yeah,” Merlin said, nodding as he cast a look around.
The Restaurant was simple, tables of all sizes planted strategically around pots of trees and flowers and at first they looked beautiful. But then Merlin looked a little closer and he noticed the glimmer in the flowers and the shimmer to the trees that would never have been found naturally. They were, like the woman outside, holographic images, about as real as his dragon.
The woman placed her bag on the ground and turned to Merlin brightly, suddenly gaping at him and flushing.
“Oh I’m sorry,” she apologised, looking down at the table and twisting her hands together. “I know I was pushy outside, but my friend called last minute to cancel so I was annoyed about that and now I just realised that I haven’t even introduced myself and…” she trailed off, clamping her mouth shut with a slight grin.
“Let me start again. I’m Gwen,” she said, smiling beautifully and openly, the first sign of something real that Merlin had seen in Camelot since he’d arrived.
“Merlin,” Merlin replied. Though it would have been simpler to use his alias, Gwen seemed like a nice person and a friend, had been willing to let someone get into a restaurant on her pay even though they were a stranger, and Merlin had never been brought up to be a liar. He’d just become one when he had to, when there was no other choice.
He remembered her reaction to the card flashing red and asked, conversationally, whether it happened a lot.
“It depends,” she began, pressing a button in the centre of the table and Merlin had to stop himself staring in amazement as two menus sprang into existence on the table, underneath what Merlin had simply assumed was wood. “It’s been happening more increasingly, mostly to Uniforms like yourself, and it’s generally just a glitch that will pass, but food’s an important matter and there were a few annoyed people behind me in the queue.”
That meant there was every chance his card simply had a glitch then, Merlin realised, and not that he’d been discovered. The weight on his chest lifted a little and he gave Gwen a real smile, scanning the menu in front of him and wondering what half of the things even were.
“It must be hard,” Gwen said, moving her fingers over the table in front of her, evidently searching through the menu. “Doing what you do and all,” she added.
Merlin wondered what she thought he did, as the general public surely couldn’t know the truth, so he nodded, humming non-committedly.
“It’s still work though and keeps me busy,” he forced a laugh, Gwen joining in a moment later.
“That’s true. But I hear the journey’s the killer.” She pressed something on the table and it made a ‘bloop’ noise. “I mean all that hard work reinforcing the Tower and then you have to sit in the shuttles for a good half hour?” Gwen shook her head, “Not for me!”
“It’s not too bad,” Merlin began, looking down at the menu and pressing the first thing that looked remotely edible. “Gives you time to think about things at least!”
There was a silence then, but not an uncomfortable one. Merlin thought that he was lucky to have met someone like Gwen, someone who was a little lonely and wanted company, could be pushy without harm and yet was reserved enough not to ask too many questions.
“So what do you do?” Merlin asked gently, hoping that it was an innocent question, one that Gwen would pick up and carry for a while, dodging away from Merlin entirely.
She brightened, thankfully. “I work in the royal household,” she said proudly and Merlin looked at her sharply.
“Oh don’t give me that look, why does everyone act like that?” She shook her head. “They don’t actually sit around all day doing nothing, contrary to popular belief. The King has input into the council sessions and works closely with the Magicians to protect the city.”
The table made a whizzing noise suddenly and Merlin pulled his arms up instantly, staring at it wildly and then looking at Gwen. She simply slid her hands off calmly, raising an eyebrow at Merlin’ antics, as if he was a complete idiot.
A moment later, Merlin knew that she had every right to look at him like that, as a plate of food was pushed up by a lever (or something, Merlin didn’t really know) and the table closed back, leaving his dinner there.
His stomach grumbled, but not because of any delicious scents wafting from the plate. It looked, in all honesty, like a mismatch of processed and blandly coloured food, but it was still food and that was what set Merlin’s stomach off.
Merlin took a bite, trying to keep control of himself and not wolf the whole thing down in one go. Gwen didn’t say anything, but Merlin knew that she had to think him a complete weirdo. He could cope, though, as long as she didn’t pry too much or become suspicious.
“So what kind of work do you do?” Merlin asked between mouthfuls of food, wondering if Gwen could get him to see the prince.
“I work for the Lady Morgana,” Gwen said and Merlin nodded, pretending he knew who she meant. “Officially I’m her assistant, but we’re friends so it’s not really like a job to me.”
Gwen frowned, her fork half-lifted to her mouth. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” she said quietly. “I just feel like I can trust you.”
Merlin nodded, looking down at his plate and taking another mouthful. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel like a particularly trustworthy person, but he wanted Gwen to like him and he could use her connections to check on Ygraine’s son and find his dragon.
“So,” Gwen said, “What’s work in the Tower like?” She’d finished her food now, Merlin having finished his a while ago, and the table whirred again, taking their plates away.
“I mean,” she continued, “You don’t look like one of the rough-tough types you usually see who are working on the construction.” She blushed suddenly, “I don’t mean… what I meant was maybe you’re an architect or something.”
“Yeah,” Merlin said. “I’m more of an overseer than an actual worker.”
Gwen seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding her head. An awkward silence passed between them before Gwen reached down for her bag, standing.
“I suppose...” she began, drifting off.
“Oh, right,” Merlin replied, standing up as well, realising that dinner was done.
There was no waiting around in the New World. You did something and then you moved on. Back in Ealdor, dinners had spanned sometimes over hours, people talking and laughing, and yet in Camelot, Merlin was sure this one hadn’t lasted even thirty minutes.
Gwen led them out of the restaurant, thanking Merlin and apologising again.
“It was Morgana, actually, who was supposed to meet me,” she said, giving a little chuckle. “She got held up though, a meeting with the king.”
Gwen frowned, turning to Merlin on the pavement and looking at him. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she said, again, with a shake of her head. “But… it’s like you’re important, whatever that means.”
Her frown deepened and she reached to smooth a crease in Merlin’s uniform, pressing down the fabric on his shoulder.
Merlin didn’t feel important, even though he had a destiny he needed to fulfil. He felt grubby, a stranger in an odd world and certainly someone who didn’t belong. He’d never considered the possibility that his magic would be able to facilitate his way through this world, but with what Gwen said, it was certainly something to consider.
In this world built entirely on magic, with magic running straight from the earth up to the tips of the buildings, it wasn’t a surprise that Merlin held some sway here. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the sway of magic rolling through the ground, he could feel it responding to his own. It was possible that his magic could connect to the people around him, sway their views and opinions in the same way Gaius had mentioned how he’d saved himself and his mother.
Merlin didn’t like the fact that he could, potentially, be manipulating Gwen into liking him, but she held connections that would allow him to search for the dragon as well as being able to peek in on the prince.
“Where’s your house?” Gwen asked then, cutting into Merlin’s thoughts.
“Ah,” Merlin began, struggling for an answer. He bit his lip, an idea coming to him slowly. “Well in truth, I’m not officially moved in here.”
Gwen’s eyebrows shot up, before they drew back into a frown. “I’m sorry?” she asked, and Merlin smiled.
“I’m part of a new project we’re working on. I came from one of the other Sky Cities, Ealdor. It’s half an ocean away, really, and less up to date than Camelot, so a few of us were sent over.” He shrugged his shoulders, throwing a look at Gwen to judge whether or not she was buying it. More than anything she seemed curious, so he continued.
“I was living down in one of the barracks in the Tower, but my rota for this month has ended. They hadn’t sorted out where I was going to stay so I said I’d have a look around.” Merlin smiled again and felt nervousness bubble up when Gwen looked suspicious.
He didn’t want to use his magic more than it naturally seemed to work, but Merlin knew that if Gwen didn’t accept this then he’d have to. This wasn’t about what Merlin wanted anymore and he couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t do whatever it took to save his mother and friends. He wasn’t the same person who had stepped onto a boat in Ealdor and he would do all that he could if it meant he could save the people he loved.
The suspicion faded on Gwen’s face, much to Merlin’s relief (he didn’t want to physically enchant her after all).
“Do you know anywhere I could stay?” he asked, turning to stare after someone as they bashed into his shoulder. They offered no apology and Merlin narrowed his eyes after the figure, but they were just another face of the New World.
“You could stay with me,” Gwen said quietly, colour rising on her cheeks. Merlin looked at her in surprise, honestly not suspecting anything like that. “I mean, if you were okay with moving in with a stranger… I don’t want to presume anything, but you look like you could use a friend.”
Suddenly it didn’t matter that his magic may have influenced their introductions and why Gwen had been so willing to pay for his dinner. He hadn’t expected Gwen to suggest he came back to her house, not even hoped for it, and knew that this was beyond his magic. Gwen was a genuinely nice person and she liked Merlin, wanted to help him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low.
He hadn’t realised it, but Merlin could use a friend. She didn’t have to know anything about destiny or magic, but Merlin could do with someone like Gwen. She was kind, comforting and Merlin needed someone to simply be there for him for a while.
“Of course,” she said with a frown. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”
Gwen took Merlin’s arm, linking them together and pulling him to a walk.
“I know, I know I’m probably a bit odd if I take in random strangers I coerce into having dinner with me home and practically insist they stay,” she smiled. “But I like you Merlin. And I like helping people.”
She grimaced then and Merlin’s heart jumped in his chest. Had she already decided against it?
“Plus Morgana will be insufferable this evening. We share the apartment and she’ll be annoyed she missed dinner.” She gave Merlin a wicked glance, “But you can distract her. You look like you could use a bit of smartening up and I know Morgana would be happy to oversee that.”
Merlin wondered how bad he looked and ran a hand over his face. Stubble was showing on his jaw now and he grimaced as he felt bits of mud and bog caught between hairs. He knew he didn’t look good and, in all honesty, a smartening up sounded wonderful right about now.
Gwen and Morgana’s apartment was located in the inner circle of the city, or so Gwen informed him. What that really meant was that it was closer to the central castle, where the affairs of state were held and the king and sorcerers lived. Merlin had commented that it was odd for the king’s ward not to live in the castle, but Gwen had simply laughed.
“You want to try living with Uther and Nimueh in the same castle. Both Morgana and the prince moved out as soon as they could, feigning the fact they needed to learn independence. “
Merlin had chuckled with her at that, before looking around the area, taking in the slick outline of buildings and the glow of electric lights. It was clearly an exclusive area, but didn’t seem intimidating. And when they reached the apartment in question - built in a block, spanning the whole of the sixth floor - it felt homely and welcoming.
His first impression of Morgana was that she was fearsome. Though she was dressed in a simple t-shirt and comfortable trousers combo, she was a striking woman and Merlin instantly knew he didn’t want to get on her bad side.
“Oh Gwen,” she said as soon as they were through the door. “I’m so sorry, I tried to tell Uther I had plans, but he wouldn’t listen, you know what he’s like.” The latter statement was accompanied with an eye-roll, Morgana opening her mouth to say something else when she finally noticed Merlin.
“Gwen?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought we had rules about these things and you’d let me know if you needed a bit of peace.”
Morgana smirked and the penny dropped for Merlin. Gwen flushed, shaking her head as Merlin joined in, trying to compose a reply.
“It’s not like that,” Gwen said, still shaking her head. “Merlin’s going to be taking the spare room. He needed somewhere to stay - he’s on a project from another City - and I offered to take him in.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Morgana approached Merlin and looked him up and down.
“You don’t look like much,” she muttered before shooting a look at Gwen. “But Gwen likes you and I trust her judgement. Plus I reckon with a few meals under your belt you’d be in ship-shape to help at the smithy.”
Morgana nodded to Gwen, a proud smile on her face.
“Gwen oversees the local smithy. Specialises in trinket fixing herself, but keeps the boys who do the bigger things in line.” Gwen flushed at the statement, shaking her head a little, but Morgana was insistent. “They need a woman’s touch and that’s what Gwen gives them. Otherwise it’s all brawn and no brain.”
Merlin didn’t really know what to say to that, so he simply joined in the chuckle, looking around the apartment.
It was large, having taken up the whole sixth floor, and there was a spacious kitchen - state of the art appliances and sleek lines - a comfortable looking lounge area and a corridor leading, presumably, to the bedrooms and bathroom. It was a homely place, clearly New World and yet more, with personal touches of the people who lived there.
“Do you want a bath?” Gwen asked softly, Morgana moving to perch on the kitchen counter, watching them like a hawk.
Merlin hadn’t heard sweeter words in his life so he nodded, a smile widening on his face.
“Morgana has some clothes you can have and the towels are already in there. Feel free to use any products you need, we have far too many really.” Gwen looked to Morgana, who nodded and slid off the counter.
“There’s a razor too, in case you want to get rid of that mini-beard,” she said as she walked past, presumably to gather the aforementioned clothes.
The bathroom wasn’t much different from the ones he was useful, though it was obviously more modern. The faucets worked the same, the shower was pretty much the same, though the overall design was nicer and more sleek than Merlin was used to.
He filled the tub with hot water, rummaging through the cupboards like Gwen had suggested, to try and find something to scrub his hair with. Back on Ealdor they’d all simply put up with water and soap, but Merlin figured that he’d need the New World products to scrape the grime coating him.
Sinking into the water was bliss. It was the first time Merlin had ever had a bath like this, with little effort and plenty of hot water that was simply there. He moved to the collection of bottles he’d gathered, blinking past the slogans proclaiming them to solve all his stresses or detox his body completely, looking to see which ones were for his body and which ones for hair.
The bubbles in the water faded, leaving the bath full of murky, grey liquid and Merlin grimaced, scrubbing himself harder. When he was pink all over, free of mud and grime, he hopped out of the tub, wrapping one of the fluffy towels Gwen had left out around his body as he drained the bath.
He grimaced again as rings of dirt clung to the edge of the bath and Merlin flicked the shower on, hissing as the water ran out freezing cold down his arm. Once the bath was rinsed out, he hooked the shower head back up to the wall, hopping back in and drawing the curtain around the edge of the tub, moving to wash his hair.
When he was finished, Merlin climbed out of the shower again, standing in the middle of the room, almost lost. He moved to the sink and used the razor Morgana had mentioned to shave the stubble from his jaw, careful not to cut into his skin.
Once done, he splashed his face with water and took a step back, looking in the mirror above the sink. Merlin winced as he pushed the towel aside, eyes raking over his body. He was scrawnier than he had been in Ealdor, thinner too. Muscles that he’d built up from working on the Island had faded, bones more prominent.
He didn’t look too sickly, after all he’d fed relatively well with the druids, but Merlin knew wasn’t at a healthy weight, like so many other people below the Tower. He sighed, running a hand over his chest and poking down at his ribs. He then remembered his shoulder and looked, seeing the small scar left, perfectly healed and glistening against undamaged skin. Magic worked wonders, Merlin knew, and if it could heal something this small, then he’d make it heal the damage Nimueh had done.
“Merlin?” a voice called through the door. “I have some pyjamas for you. They’re men’s,” Gwen added and Merlin didn’t really want to think about who might have left them here. He knew enough about Morgana by now to know that she wasn’t held back by propriety, like one would think for someone of the royal family.
He opened the door a little, glad that Gwen hadn’t opted for electronical doors (he probably would have opened the door starkers by accident) as a hand shoved the pyjamas through the crack. Merlin took them, thanking Gwen, and quickly shucked the on, making sure he was dry.
They were a little big on him, at least the shirt was. The trousers stopped at his ankles, Merlin evidently being taller than their previous owner, but they hung off his waist slightly. He tied the drawstrings in a bow, rubbing the towel through his hair once more and digging the Obsidian out of his pocket, tucking it into the waistband of the pyjamas, making sure it would stay there.
He left the bathroom then, putting all of his clothes into the basket Gwen had left out and wandering into the kitchen.
True to their words, Morgana and Gwen had made him a mug of hot chocolate. He sipped at it gingerly, remembering the stale bars of chocolate that he and Will had once found in the wreckage of a boat. It hadn’t been particularly tasty, but it had been old. This chocolate was brand new and the smell was unlike anything Merlin had experienced and, when he sipped it, it was delicious and warming.
“Thank you,” he said to Gwen, following Morgana over to the sitting area. She flicked on the box in the corner - a television, Merlin realised - and flicked through some of the channels, flicking it off soon after.
“Nothing’s worth watching at this time,” she said, rolling her eyes and tilting her head back to look at Merlin. “Mid-week, everyone’s working after all.”
Merlin nodded, pretending that he understood what she meant. He looked around the room and almost choked on a sip of his drink when he spotted a sleek, black object on one of the tables. It looked almost identical to his stone, aside from the fact that it was larger and looked easy to hold.
“The stone,” Morgana said. “Exclusive to Camelot apparently, but it works just like a phone. They were designed to imitate the Obsidian Stones and, allegedly, they all contain a small fleck of the original stones.”
Morgana’s face contorted into something ugly. “A fact which I made clear I did not approve of. Uther wouldn’t listen to any of us though and was intent on chipping down all the Obsidians in the queen’s garden.”
A sad look crossed Morgana’s face for a moment, but it was gone a moment later and replaced by the fierceness Merlin was used to seeing.
“Uther never really listens, not even to his own son,” she commented softly, and Merlin wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to hear that.
After the chocolate, and listening to Morgana and Gwen talking about anything and everything, Merlin was shown his bedroom. It was a modest room, comforting and with a decent sized bed. Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept on a bed and he tried not to run over and fling himself into the pillows.
“Help yourself to anything in the night,” Gwen said, poking her head through the door. “Morgana’s going to root out some old clothes for you, don’t ask where they came from,” she hastily added on the end. “It’s probably better you don’t know.”
Merlin didn’t want to think about that too much and simply bid Gwen a goodnight, falling back onto the bed as the door shut. He was grateful to have found Gwen and Morgana, two people who were kind and open to him. He knew this went far beyond anything his magic could have created and he realised that the people in the Sky Cities weren’t as ignorant or blind as he’d thought.
It was clear Morgana disagreed on a lot of things when it concerned Uther, such as the destruction of the Stones, and Gwen would follow her views anywhere, for the most part. They may be a minority, but Morgana would fight for her cause until the death if she had to. If she knew about what was going on below the Tower, she would wage a war by herself.
Merlin sighed, thinking back to the offhanded comment Morgana had made about the Stones and Ygraine’s garden. He’d have to ask her more about that, find out if she knew who could access the garden, or maybe who would think to go to the ruined Stone circle for peace.
The pillows were welcoming and Merlin had barely slipped his Obsidian from the waistband of his pyjamas before sleep started to creep in. He crawled under the duvet, sighing at the comfort that enveloped him, and fell asleep, the Stone clutched in his hand.
.
A week passed in a blur of seeing the sights of Camelot and getting to know Gwen and Morgana. When they were gone in the day, up to the castle for official business or to Gwen’s family workshop to make Old World trinkets, Merlin would walk around Camelot, searching for anything that could link him to the dragon and getting to know what the City ran on.
There were two systems, Merlin had discovered. There was the electrical system, all wires and energy stores, everything moving down, down, down and connecting to the Stone circle. When Merlin tried to feel it, all he could get was a humming buzz, something ugly and unnatural. It worked, well in fact, for the people of the City, but it wasn’t sustainable.
The second system, the older one, was for the magic. It was shoddily built, which made sense for the sorcerers of the past, the ones who had to pour their magic hurriedly into the Towers before the Ocean had risen. But these pathways contained so much more potential; Merlin could feel it, except the magic inside of them was twisted.
Of course it would be twisted, Merlin had realised. It was being forced out of people, stolen from those of no power and warped by the dragon’s magic. It wasn’t given with love or care that the original magic had been and it was because of this that Camelot was falling. You couldn’t sustain a kingdom on force alone and expect it to last forever.
Merlin had tried experimenting with a pathway, a small one inside of Gwen’s home. As with all the other magic channels, it was wrapped around an electrical one, but the two powers hadn’t fused as the sorcerers must have hoped. It wasn’t something that would occur naturally, at least not with the way the magic was in.
But Merlin managed to change it, summoning his power and pouring it directly into the electric cable. Unlike the magic pathway, you could see the cables with your own eyes and Merlin felt the change instantly.
The electricity ran smoother, bolstered by the pure magic. Merlin could tell without testing that the electricity he had just altered would last for a longer time and ideas began to creep inside of his head. Could it be done to the entire city? Merlin didn’t know, but he swore to find out, wondering if he finally had a solution to at least some of the problem.
It was after a week of this routine, with Merlin wandering around the huge city, cataloguing the people and the places, searching equally for his dragon and the crest of the prince, that Merlin wondered if he should just ask Morgana to find him work in the castle. While the crest was everywhere (literally everywhere), it meant little other than branding the Pendragon family across the New World.
He’d returned home that night - yes, Gwen’s apartment had become a home - to see Morgana and Gwen already home, evidently having finished up at the castle earlier.
“Merlin,” Morgana greeted warmly.
To begin with, their relationship had been somewhat rocky. Morgana hadn’t trusted him, Merlin knew that, and he wondered if she had magic of her own. That would have had an impact on how Merlin’s magic influenced those around him, a person’s own magic cutting off any sway his might have held. Morgana had grown to like him though, saying that he was an odd one, yet there was something she trusted in him, and Merlin had smiled, relieved that he hadn’t had to fool his way into all of his new friendships.
“We’re going out tonight,” she said brightly, clearly excited at the prospect.
Merlin looked over at Gwen. He hadn’t realised there was anywhere to go, other than general restaurants and bars, none of which had inspired this much excitement in Morgana before.
“To the Isle,” Morgana confirmed, and Gwen nodded her head a little.
At Merlin’s blank look, she continued, “The Isle of the Blessed, the hottest club this side of the Ocean.”
She shot Merlin an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it? I knew you weren’t down with popular culture and all, but this is the Isle. The place where you can forget everything, even that you’re human.”
At her words, Merlin felt an odd emotion rise in him. Why would anyone want to forget that they were human when they’d all accomplished so much? They had built a Tower to live on, spread across the skies in ways they never should have been able to, simply because they had harnessed magic and bent its will to fit the needs of the human population. And yes, it was a terrible thing, but it was amazingly resourceful and clever.
Why would anyone want to forget about that?
“It’s the place to be,” Morgana stressed again, shaking her head at Merlin. “Where, just for that night, you don’t have to have the world snapping at your heels and you can forget all your worries.”
Merlin looked at her this time. Morgana’s eyes were bright and wide, excited as she was, and Merlin knew that this was a battle he’d never win. Evidently Gwen hadn’t been lying when she’d told him that whatever Morgana wanted, Morgana got.
Thinking about it, in all honesty, wouldn’t one night to himself be good? He’d only been in Camelot for a few days and already Merlin had been subject to a completely new and different world that it would be nice just to relax and forget it all. Surely he could afford to forget about his destiny just for one night? Nothing life-changing would happen in one night, after all.
“I don’t have any clothes,” he said weakly, knowing that Gwen and Morgana would find something. And they did, in record time, and Merlin was only slightly ashamed to say that the jeans clearly belonged to Morgana, being as skinny and malnourished as he was.
The journey to the club was uneventful, Gwen hailing one of the light-weight, track-free shuttles that served as taxis, and the three of them climbing in. Morgana fired off the directions and they were off, oddly sober and Merlin with a clear head.
In all the books he’d read, and the magazines for that matter, you were supposed to be tumbling out of clubs, swaying under the influence of alcohol. There hadn’t been a drop yet, even though the Isle was supposed to make you forget. Perhaps it was just some New World thing.
He found out, after they’d been ushered into the club, skipping the long queue thanks to Morgana, that it was a New World thing. In fact, the bouncers at the doors refused entry to anyone who had been drinking, sending them off with a roll of the eye.
Morgana led them down the wide stairs, Gwen and Merlin in tow. At the foot of the stairs lay a wide foyer area, strangely clean and prim for a club. Off of that, there were two doors, one bigger than the other and clearly the door to the rest of the club, while the other was smaller and manned by someone in a glowing, neon-coloured shirt.
They were let in to the manned door, the guard bowing his head when he took in Morgana’s fearsome presence. Merlin gave the man a side look, wondering why they were headed away from the club and into an obviously secret room.
As if reading his thoughts, Morgana turned to Merlin as they stood in a darkened room. “This is where you come to forget,” she said, casting her hands up and out, showing the room to Merlin.
It was an impressive room, with swirling wallpaper. Someone clapped their hands and the swirls lit up, twinkling with electricity and… Merlin did a double take. The walls weren’t just twinkling with electricity, magic was flowing freely in the swirls, more powerful than Merlin had seen in Camelot.
He could feel his own magic responding, welcomingly and as if it wanted to pull the magic from the walls. A tendril snaked out to curl around Merlin curiously and he tried to show no reaction, even when he realised that this was unlike any magic he’d felt before. It felt twisted, but not in a bad way.
The magic brushed against Merlin’s own and he suddenly realised why Morgana wanted to come here of all places. He tried not to look at her, not to give himself away, but risked a small glance and his suspicions were confirmed in the curl of Morgana’s lips and her half-lidded eyes.
The kick that the Isle of the Blessed provided, first and foremost, was to cater to those with magic. Somehow the people who had designed the club had added something - a drug perhaps, an emotion maybe, Merlin didn’t understand - into the magic that fortified the building. The magic reacted with each person’s own, passing on the pleasurable feeling, one more powerful than any drug could provide.
Morgana had magic. However latent or powerful it might be, she still possessed some, and so was able to get a high greater than she would otherwise.
“The Lady Morgana,” a voice said, from the back of the room. A blonde haired woman stepped forwards, warm smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around Morgana. “It’s been too long since I saw you last, how are you?”
As Morgana spoke to the woman, evidently a friend, Merlin turned to look at Gwen and noticed that she was beginning to fall under the spell of the magic too, a soft smile on her lips and a slight glassy quality to her eyes.
“We’ll go into the main area soon, Morgana just wanted to see how Morgause was,” Merlin was informed and was glad to see, at least, that Gwen hadn’t begun slurring her words.
“I see you’ve brought a friend,” Morgana’s friend - Morgause - said and Merlin looked at her, automatically wary in the same way he’d been of Morgana at first.
“I’m Merlin,” he introduced, though he didn’t hold out a hand. His magic was practically bubbling under his skin and he didn’t want to risk anyone realising is power.
“Your first night is free,” Morgause said, smiling. “You have the full range of potions and cures to sample, take advantage of the fact you’re Morgana’s friend.”
She turned her attention away from Merlin again and whispered something in Morgana’s ear, drawing a roll of the eyes and a sigh from the woman.
“Enjoy your evening,” Morgause said as they left the room, Gwen linking her arm with Morganas as they stepped ahead, tottering slightly on their heels as they all crossed the space between the doors.
The first thing that Merlin thought as the doors open was that all the magazines and books had been right. There were people everywhere, crammed into the room and in every space imaginable. Music pounded through the room and the doors closed silently behind them, blocking off the real world and reality.
Magic swirled lazily in the air, dancing through the crowd and brushing against the people throwing their hands up or grinding together. There was nothing beautiful about this kind of magic, at least not in an aesthetic sense, but it allowed everyone in the room freedom and a chance to forget their mundane lives slogging away for a stale world that was never really going anywhere.
Morgana led them to the bar first, gesturing to Gwen and Merlin before drinks were slid towards them.
He had a choice now, Merlin realised. He could say no, watch and fight off the sway of the magic around him or he could say yes. If he said yes, then for one night he could just be Merlin of Camelot, another subject to the king who knew nothing about the terrible travesties that were being committed. For one night he didn’t have to think about the weight placed upon his shoulders as Emrys and, as barbaric as it sounded, he didn’t have anyone waiting for him.
In the morning he’d return to saving the people he loved, but Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something for himself. One night wouldn’t be so terrible, would it, so Merlin took the drink, downing it alongside Gwen and Morgana.
The night blurred on, so fast and so slow at the same time. Drinks were free flowing and fast and Merlin was almost certain at one point there had been pills, but he didn’t care. His magic was racing inside of him, shooting around like bird in the sky, and it felt so good, he felt so good that nothing else mattered.
He was happy. Genuinely happy, with people who he could call friends and enjoying himself.
The music changed again and the people around him rose in cheers at an apparently familiar tune, bobbing their heads and swaying shoulders to the music, drinks splashing down Merlin’s front as he stumbled to the bar, waving for the next round for Morgana and himself. Gwen had said no this time, so Merlin returned to the floor with a drink in either hand, blinking as he tried to locate Morgana.
Merlin eventually found her, wrapped up against someone and kissing them soundly, so he backed off with a wolfish grin. Good for her, he thought, as Morgana was the kind of person who would seize her chance when she could. And in the morning? Well it didn’t matter did it? This was the time to forget who they were and wash away the troubles of their normal lives. They’d simply put this night in the past in the morning and move on.
As Merlin turned, with the intention to find Gwen and shout with her about Morgana hooking up, his hand jerked against something, sploshing one of the drinks over someone’s leg.
“Oi,” a voice said and Merlin looked at the man with wide eyes, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said, half-wailing, “Really, really sorry. I mean… how did that happen?” Merlin stared at the empty drink in his hands, then remembered he had another one in the other.
“Here,” he shoved the drink at the man, this time not spilling it. “To say sorry,” he slurred slightly, letting out a huff of laugh.
In a surprising turn, the man reached for Merlin’s drink with an accompanying laugh, his other hand taking the empty from Merlin and throwing it on the floor.
“It’s fine,” he whispered and Merlin looked at him. He was all blonde hair and blue eyes, confident swagger and yet there was something behind all of that, something that made Merlin want to pull him closer and make him spill all of his secrets.
His magic apparently agreed, for it sizzled under his skin. The man was still holding Merlin’s fingers between his own in their empty hands, and Merlin hadn’t let go of the drink yet, and those points of touch were the only comfortable places over his whole body.
As a final push, Merlin remembered Morgana’s resolve and how tonight wasn’t his chance to be Merlin from across the ocean, but to be Merlin of Camelot. He was a brand new person and if this brand new person was drawn to someone then he was going to go with it, especially considering the way his magic reacted.
“I’m Merlin,” he said, moving against the man to say it in his ear. The blonde stiffened as Merlin pressed against him, before he tilted his head back, raking his eyes over Merlin’s face before breaking into a smile.
“Arthur,” he replied, against the shell of Merlin’s ear. “And I probably shouldn’t have another drink, considering the amount I’ve had tonight.”
Merlin smiled and then the drink was gone from his hands and Arthur had his head tilted back, throat exposed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, just before he passed the drink back to Merlin, showing that he’d only drunken half of it.
“What do you say?” Arthur asked as Merlin took the cup, draining the rest of the drink. It burnt down his throat, but he held Arthur’s stare, challenging him.
The kiss tasted of alcohol and hurt, burning into Merlin as Arthur seized his lips. There was a moment of pause before Merlin dropped the cup on the floor, not caring that it would soon be thousands of plastic shards under the dance floor’s feet, and moved his hands to grip tightly to Arthur, daring him to stop.
It would be a lie to say Merlin was experienced, but he was hardly innocent. Before he’d realised he’d preferred men, there had been a few kisses and uncertain touches with the girls in the village. And then he had realised he preferred men and there had been that one time, when Will had found an old bottle of whiskey under a floorboard, that Will said he was curious and they’d clumsily jacked each other off… but this was different.
Merlin had never been kissed like this, with strength and passion, even though they were both shit-faced and well on their way to passing out. Arthur made Merlin’s magic tingle violently, until the only way he could tamper down the sensation was to shove a knee between Arthur’s legs and try to feel every inch of the man, kissing him harder.
“Do you want to,” Arthur began, breaking their kiss before ducking back in, as drawn to Merlin as Merlin was to him. “Come back to mine?”
He should say no, should turn around and find Gwen and make her take him out of the Isle, or maybe grab Morgana and tell her they had to go… but Merlin did none of these things. His magic hummed inside of his chest, almost making the decision for him, and he tilted his head back, looking at Arthur with half-lidded eyes and smiled.
“Sure,” he agreed, wanting Arthur more than anything he’d ever wanted and feeling as though this was right somehow, as though something was falling into place.
They left then, Merlin wrapped against Arthur, kissing his neck and lapping at his collarbone as they walked out of the club. The air wasn’t cool, wasn’t natural, but Merlin paid no mind, because Arthur’s hand was snaking under his shirt and his fingers were sparking off his magic with every touch.
He didn’t notice the part of the city they went to, only that it was in a slightly different direction to Gwen’s house. He didn’t notice what Arthur’s place looked like, simply hauling the man against one of the walls as he fumbled for his keys, kissing him without regret.
When they finally got inside, Arthur led them to the sofa, pushing Merlin back until they both fell, Arthur grinning above him as if his birthday had come early.
They didn’t say much, but there wasn’t a lot that needed to be said. Their hands did most of the talking, and the rest was matched by moans and breathy kisses, intensifying as soon as Arthur freed their erections, rutting against Merlin like a teenager just breaking into his puberty stride.
For a moment it scared Merlin what he could reduce Arthur to, but then their cocks brushed and Merlin didn’t need to think anymore, simply lying back and kissing Arthur again, cupping his hand over their cocks and rubbing.
Soon after that, the night took them both and they collapsed on the sofa, dead to the world.
.
| Part Ten|
As he wandered through the city, taking in the booth cafés and the towering office buildings, he searched for somewhere to stay. There were hotels and other places to stay in the old books Merlin had read, so he’d simply assumed there was somewhere he’d be able to stay.
But Camelot weren’t accepting new people. Why should they run hotels when there was no need? Assuming that everyone got their own home, which would be the most practical thing, what was the point of hotels?
He turned onto another road and it was almost as though he’d stepped into another world. The pavements were cluttered with people, most laughing and smiling under the twinkle of electric lights, and there were rows of open shops, restaurants and other places of interest. Somehow, Merlin had stumbled upon the heart of the Sky City, to the buzzing core of it all and he couldn’t help but smile.
He’d missed seeing so many people in one place with smiles. He’d missed looking through groups of people to see a women smiling and men laughing, genuinely happy people. Merlin smiled slightly dumbly, picking his way through the masses of people and looking around in interest.
It was dark, almost night time (though Merlin wasn’t sure if the sky shown above was real or a fake, and he was more inclined to think that it was a fake) and bright signs shone, reflecting off of metal structures.
The whole city twinkled with the electricity that was slowly choking it and Merlin had to look away. Yes, it was beautiful, but he knew the price of such beauty, and once you looked past the superficial twinkle, all that was left was an ugly backbone. True, it was disguised by lights and huge signs, luring the people of Camelot into their trap and the never ending spiral that would be the downfall of the New World, but that made it no less true.
A growl sounded and Merlin’s whole middle jerked as his stomach made his hunger known. He was surprised that he’d lasted this long, in complete honesty, as the last thing he’d eaten had been the dirt-tasting bulb that Mordred had given him, and it wasn’t exactly a staple meal. He’d have to eat first and then see about sleep, as the pain in his stomach spread, clawing at his insides and almost doubling Merlin with its vigour.
There was a glaring sign that stood out, even amongst the other rows of shops and food places. It was plain, compared to the fancy lettering and coloured lights around Merlin, but it toted a word Merlin was familiar with and he headed towards it, wondering how easy it would be to get food at The Restaurant.
Merlin looked through the window and saw people of all types inside, a few in a uniform to match Merlin’s. That made him relax a little, and he slid his hand into his pocket to clutch at the wallet, bringing it out less shakily than he had the last time he’d used the cards, knowing that he’d have to use them as it was his only source of money.
At the door, there was a holographic person, a cheerful woman, and she greeted Merlin with a chirpy hello, welcoming him in. And, as predicted, she asked him to insert his card, so Merlin did so, hoping that he’d got the right one the first time around.
The woman’s image flickered as a small, red light beeped over the slot Merlin had entered the card, and he gave a slight snort of laughter, throwing a look over his shoulder. There were a few people behind him, but none seemed too worried by how long Merlin was taking.
He slid another card in, but the red light refused to budge, so Merlin looked at the wallet again, realising that he had no more cards.
“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, biting his lower lip as he decided what to do. He obviously couldn’t go in, but he needed to eat. Was the reason the card didn’t work due to there not being enough money - or whatever they used - on it, or had Merlin’s switch been noticed?
Merlin closed his eyes, about to step out of the line to look for rubbish disposal sites - there had to be some, right? And there would be food there at least - when the woman behind him tapped his shoulder.
“Sorry sir,” she said politely, smiling as she tucked a dark curl behind her ear. “Are your cards not working?”
Swallowing thickly, Merlin shook his head.
“How about I get you in on mine? I was supposed to meet someone for dinner but they cancelled, so you can repay me by keeping me company?” Merlin was about to protest when someone behind the woman harrumphed loudly and she moved forwards, slotting the card in and speaking to the holographic woman, telling her that she wanted two people to be charged.
“No, really I-“ Merlin began, but the woman simply shook her head, cheeks reddening.
“Please,” she cut in, “I don’t want to eat by myself and I’ve already paid for you now. You have to come.”
Shooting a glance out at the street, Merlin realised that there wasn’t any other option he’d prefer. It was easy to push aside the doors and follow the woman - he didn’t even know her name for pity’s sake - down to a table, sitting down on a plush chair opposite her.
“It’s not the nicest place,” she was saying, placing her bag on the table and rifling through to find a purse. “But the food’s better than you’d expect and it’s good value for money. Especially considering the stock crises at the moment and all,” she said, tilting her head expectantly at Merlin, obviously hinting that this stock issue was a massive problem and everyone should know.
“Um… yeah,” Merlin said, nodding as he cast a look around.
The Restaurant was simple, tables of all sizes planted strategically around pots of trees and flowers and at first they looked beautiful. But then Merlin looked a little closer and he noticed the glimmer in the flowers and the shimmer to the trees that would never have been found naturally. They were, like the woman outside, holographic images, about as real as his dragon.
The woman placed her bag on the ground and turned to Merlin brightly, suddenly gaping at him and flushing.
“Oh I’m sorry,” she apologised, looking down at the table and twisting her hands together. “I know I was pushy outside, but my friend called last minute to cancel so I was annoyed about that and now I just realised that I haven’t even introduced myself and…” she trailed off, clamping her mouth shut with a slight grin.
“Let me start again. I’m Gwen,” she said, smiling beautifully and openly, the first sign of something real that Merlin had seen in Camelot since he’d arrived.
“Merlin,” Merlin replied. Though it would have been simpler to use his alias, Gwen seemed like a nice person and a friend, had been willing to let someone get into a restaurant on her pay even though they were a stranger, and Merlin had never been brought up to be a liar. He’d just become one when he had to, when there was no other choice.
He remembered her reaction to the card flashing red and asked, conversationally, whether it happened a lot.
“It depends,” she began, pressing a button in the centre of the table and Merlin had to stop himself staring in amazement as two menus sprang into existence on the table, underneath what Merlin had simply assumed was wood. “It’s been happening more increasingly, mostly to Uniforms like yourself, and it’s generally just a glitch that will pass, but food’s an important matter and there were a few annoyed people behind me in the queue.”
That meant there was every chance his card simply had a glitch then, Merlin realised, and not that he’d been discovered. The weight on his chest lifted a little and he gave Gwen a real smile, scanning the menu in front of him and wondering what half of the things even were.
“It must be hard,” Gwen said, moving her fingers over the table in front of her, evidently searching through the menu. “Doing what you do and all,” she added.
Merlin wondered what she thought he did, as the general public surely couldn’t know the truth, so he nodded, humming non-committedly.
“It’s still work though and keeps me busy,” he forced a laugh, Gwen joining in a moment later.
“That’s true. But I hear the journey’s the killer.” She pressed something on the table and it made a ‘bloop’ noise. “I mean all that hard work reinforcing the Tower and then you have to sit in the shuttles for a good half hour?” Gwen shook her head, “Not for me!”
“It’s not too bad,” Merlin began, looking down at the menu and pressing the first thing that looked remotely edible. “Gives you time to think about things at least!”
There was a silence then, but not an uncomfortable one. Merlin thought that he was lucky to have met someone like Gwen, someone who was a little lonely and wanted company, could be pushy without harm and yet was reserved enough not to ask too many questions.
“So what do you do?” Merlin asked gently, hoping that it was an innocent question, one that Gwen would pick up and carry for a while, dodging away from Merlin entirely.
She brightened, thankfully. “I work in the royal household,” she said proudly and Merlin looked at her sharply.
“Oh don’t give me that look, why does everyone act like that?” She shook her head. “They don’t actually sit around all day doing nothing, contrary to popular belief. The King has input into the council sessions and works closely with the Magicians to protect the city.”
The table made a whizzing noise suddenly and Merlin pulled his arms up instantly, staring at it wildly and then looking at Gwen. She simply slid her hands off calmly, raising an eyebrow at Merlin’ antics, as if he was a complete idiot.
A moment later, Merlin knew that she had every right to look at him like that, as a plate of food was pushed up by a lever (or something, Merlin didn’t really know) and the table closed back, leaving his dinner there.
His stomach grumbled, but not because of any delicious scents wafting from the plate. It looked, in all honesty, like a mismatch of processed and blandly coloured food, but it was still food and that was what set Merlin’s stomach off.
Merlin took a bite, trying to keep control of himself and not wolf the whole thing down in one go. Gwen didn’t say anything, but Merlin knew that she had to think him a complete weirdo. He could cope, though, as long as she didn’t pry too much or become suspicious.
“So what kind of work do you do?” Merlin asked between mouthfuls of food, wondering if Gwen could get him to see the prince.
“I work for the Lady Morgana,” Gwen said and Merlin nodded, pretending he knew who she meant. “Officially I’m her assistant, but we’re friends so it’s not really like a job to me.”
Gwen frowned, her fork half-lifted to her mouth. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” she said quietly. “I just feel like I can trust you.”
Merlin nodded, looking down at his plate and taking another mouthful. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel like a particularly trustworthy person, but he wanted Gwen to like him and he could use her connections to check on Ygraine’s son and find his dragon.
“So,” Gwen said, “What’s work in the Tower like?” She’d finished her food now, Merlin having finished his a while ago, and the table whirred again, taking their plates away.
“I mean,” she continued, “You don’t look like one of the rough-tough types you usually see who are working on the construction.” She blushed suddenly, “I don’t mean… what I meant was maybe you’re an architect or something.”
“Yeah,” Merlin said. “I’m more of an overseer than an actual worker.”
Gwen seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding her head. An awkward silence passed between them before Gwen reached down for her bag, standing.
“I suppose...” she began, drifting off.
“Oh, right,” Merlin replied, standing up as well, realising that dinner was done.
There was no waiting around in the New World. You did something and then you moved on. Back in Ealdor, dinners had spanned sometimes over hours, people talking and laughing, and yet in Camelot, Merlin was sure this one hadn’t lasted even thirty minutes.
Gwen led them out of the restaurant, thanking Merlin and apologising again.
“It was Morgana, actually, who was supposed to meet me,” she said, giving a little chuckle. “She got held up though, a meeting with the king.”
Gwen frowned, turning to Merlin on the pavement and looking at him. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she said, again, with a shake of her head. “But… it’s like you’re important, whatever that means.”
Her frown deepened and she reached to smooth a crease in Merlin’s uniform, pressing down the fabric on his shoulder.
Merlin didn’t feel important, even though he had a destiny he needed to fulfil. He felt grubby, a stranger in an odd world and certainly someone who didn’t belong. He’d never considered the possibility that his magic would be able to facilitate his way through this world, but with what Gwen said, it was certainly something to consider.
In this world built entirely on magic, with magic running straight from the earth up to the tips of the buildings, it wasn’t a surprise that Merlin held some sway here. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the sway of magic rolling through the ground, he could feel it responding to his own. It was possible that his magic could connect to the people around him, sway their views and opinions in the same way Gaius had mentioned how he’d saved himself and his mother.
Merlin didn’t like the fact that he could, potentially, be manipulating Gwen into liking him, but she held connections that would allow him to search for the dragon as well as being able to peek in on the prince.
“Where’s your house?” Gwen asked then, cutting into Merlin’s thoughts.
“Ah,” Merlin began, struggling for an answer. He bit his lip, an idea coming to him slowly. “Well in truth, I’m not officially moved in here.”
Gwen’s eyebrows shot up, before they drew back into a frown. “I’m sorry?” she asked, and Merlin smiled.
“I’m part of a new project we’re working on. I came from one of the other Sky Cities, Ealdor. It’s half an ocean away, really, and less up to date than Camelot, so a few of us were sent over.” He shrugged his shoulders, throwing a look at Gwen to judge whether or not she was buying it. More than anything she seemed curious, so he continued.
“I was living down in one of the barracks in the Tower, but my rota for this month has ended. They hadn’t sorted out where I was going to stay so I said I’d have a look around.” Merlin smiled again and felt nervousness bubble up when Gwen looked suspicious.
He didn’t want to use his magic more than it naturally seemed to work, but Merlin knew that if Gwen didn’t accept this then he’d have to. This wasn’t about what Merlin wanted anymore and he couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t do whatever it took to save his mother and friends. He wasn’t the same person who had stepped onto a boat in Ealdor and he would do all that he could if it meant he could save the people he loved.
The suspicion faded on Gwen’s face, much to Merlin’s relief (he didn’t want to physically enchant her after all).
“Do you know anywhere I could stay?” he asked, turning to stare after someone as they bashed into his shoulder. They offered no apology and Merlin narrowed his eyes after the figure, but they were just another face of the New World.
“You could stay with me,” Gwen said quietly, colour rising on her cheeks. Merlin looked at her in surprise, honestly not suspecting anything like that. “I mean, if you were okay with moving in with a stranger… I don’t want to presume anything, but you look like you could use a friend.”
Suddenly it didn’t matter that his magic may have influenced their introductions and why Gwen had been so willing to pay for his dinner. He hadn’t expected Gwen to suggest he came back to her house, not even hoped for it, and knew that this was beyond his magic. Gwen was a genuinely nice person and she liked Merlin, wanted to help him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low.
He hadn’t realised it, but Merlin could use a friend. She didn’t have to know anything about destiny or magic, but Merlin could do with someone like Gwen. She was kind, comforting and Merlin needed someone to simply be there for him for a while.
“Of course,” she said with a frown. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”
Gwen took Merlin’s arm, linking them together and pulling him to a walk.
“I know, I know I’m probably a bit odd if I take in random strangers I coerce into having dinner with me home and practically insist they stay,” she smiled. “But I like you Merlin. And I like helping people.”
She grimaced then and Merlin’s heart jumped in his chest. Had she already decided against it?
“Plus Morgana will be insufferable this evening. We share the apartment and she’ll be annoyed she missed dinner.” She gave Merlin a wicked glance, “But you can distract her. You look like you could use a bit of smartening up and I know Morgana would be happy to oversee that.”
Merlin wondered how bad he looked and ran a hand over his face. Stubble was showing on his jaw now and he grimaced as he felt bits of mud and bog caught between hairs. He knew he didn’t look good and, in all honesty, a smartening up sounded wonderful right about now.
Gwen and Morgana’s apartment was located in the inner circle of the city, or so Gwen informed him. What that really meant was that it was closer to the central castle, where the affairs of state were held and the king and sorcerers lived. Merlin had commented that it was odd for the king’s ward not to live in the castle, but Gwen had simply laughed.
“You want to try living with Uther and Nimueh in the same castle. Both Morgana and the prince moved out as soon as they could, feigning the fact they needed to learn independence. “
Merlin had chuckled with her at that, before looking around the area, taking in the slick outline of buildings and the glow of electric lights. It was clearly an exclusive area, but didn’t seem intimidating. And when they reached the apartment in question - built in a block, spanning the whole of the sixth floor - it felt homely and welcoming.
His first impression of Morgana was that she was fearsome. Though she was dressed in a simple t-shirt and comfortable trousers combo, she was a striking woman and Merlin instantly knew he didn’t want to get on her bad side.
“Oh Gwen,” she said as soon as they were through the door. “I’m so sorry, I tried to tell Uther I had plans, but he wouldn’t listen, you know what he’s like.” The latter statement was accompanied with an eye-roll, Morgana opening her mouth to say something else when she finally noticed Merlin.
“Gwen?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought we had rules about these things and you’d let me know if you needed a bit of peace.”
Morgana smirked and the penny dropped for Merlin. Gwen flushed, shaking her head as Merlin joined in, trying to compose a reply.
“It’s not like that,” Gwen said, still shaking her head. “Merlin’s going to be taking the spare room. He needed somewhere to stay - he’s on a project from another City - and I offered to take him in.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Morgana approached Merlin and looked him up and down.
“You don’t look like much,” she muttered before shooting a look at Gwen. “But Gwen likes you and I trust her judgement. Plus I reckon with a few meals under your belt you’d be in ship-shape to help at the smithy.”
Morgana nodded to Gwen, a proud smile on her face.
“Gwen oversees the local smithy. Specialises in trinket fixing herself, but keeps the boys who do the bigger things in line.” Gwen flushed at the statement, shaking her head a little, but Morgana was insistent. “They need a woman’s touch and that’s what Gwen gives them. Otherwise it’s all brawn and no brain.”
Merlin didn’t really know what to say to that, so he simply joined in the chuckle, looking around the apartment.
It was large, having taken up the whole sixth floor, and there was a spacious kitchen - state of the art appliances and sleek lines - a comfortable looking lounge area and a corridor leading, presumably, to the bedrooms and bathroom. It was a homely place, clearly New World and yet more, with personal touches of the people who lived there.
“Do you want a bath?” Gwen asked softly, Morgana moving to perch on the kitchen counter, watching them like a hawk.
Merlin hadn’t heard sweeter words in his life so he nodded, a smile widening on his face.
“Morgana has some clothes you can have and the towels are already in there. Feel free to use any products you need, we have far too many really.” Gwen looked to Morgana, who nodded and slid off the counter.
“There’s a razor too, in case you want to get rid of that mini-beard,” she said as she walked past, presumably to gather the aforementioned clothes.
The bathroom wasn’t much different from the ones he was useful, though it was obviously more modern. The faucets worked the same, the shower was pretty much the same, though the overall design was nicer and more sleek than Merlin was used to.
He filled the tub with hot water, rummaging through the cupboards like Gwen had suggested, to try and find something to scrub his hair with. Back on Ealdor they’d all simply put up with water and soap, but Merlin figured that he’d need the New World products to scrape the grime coating him.
Sinking into the water was bliss. It was the first time Merlin had ever had a bath like this, with little effort and plenty of hot water that was simply there. He moved to the collection of bottles he’d gathered, blinking past the slogans proclaiming them to solve all his stresses or detox his body completely, looking to see which ones were for his body and which ones for hair.
The bubbles in the water faded, leaving the bath full of murky, grey liquid and Merlin grimaced, scrubbing himself harder. When he was pink all over, free of mud and grime, he hopped out of the tub, wrapping one of the fluffy towels Gwen had left out around his body as he drained the bath.
He grimaced again as rings of dirt clung to the edge of the bath and Merlin flicked the shower on, hissing as the water ran out freezing cold down his arm. Once the bath was rinsed out, he hooked the shower head back up to the wall, hopping back in and drawing the curtain around the edge of the tub, moving to wash his hair.
When he was finished, Merlin climbed out of the shower again, standing in the middle of the room, almost lost. He moved to the sink and used the razor Morgana had mentioned to shave the stubble from his jaw, careful not to cut into his skin.
Once done, he splashed his face with water and took a step back, looking in the mirror above the sink. Merlin winced as he pushed the towel aside, eyes raking over his body. He was scrawnier than he had been in Ealdor, thinner too. Muscles that he’d built up from working on the Island had faded, bones more prominent.
He didn’t look too sickly, after all he’d fed relatively well with the druids, but Merlin knew wasn’t at a healthy weight, like so many other people below the Tower. He sighed, running a hand over his chest and poking down at his ribs. He then remembered his shoulder and looked, seeing the small scar left, perfectly healed and glistening against undamaged skin. Magic worked wonders, Merlin knew, and if it could heal something this small, then he’d make it heal the damage Nimueh had done.
“Merlin?” a voice called through the door. “I have some pyjamas for you. They’re men’s,” Gwen added and Merlin didn’t really want to think about who might have left them here. He knew enough about Morgana by now to know that she wasn’t held back by propriety, like one would think for someone of the royal family.
He opened the door a little, glad that Gwen hadn’t opted for electronical doors (he probably would have opened the door starkers by accident) as a hand shoved the pyjamas through the crack. Merlin took them, thanking Gwen, and quickly shucked the on, making sure he was dry.
They were a little big on him, at least the shirt was. The trousers stopped at his ankles, Merlin evidently being taller than their previous owner, but they hung off his waist slightly. He tied the drawstrings in a bow, rubbing the towel through his hair once more and digging the Obsidian out of his pocket, tucking it into the waistband of the pyjamas, making sure it would stay there.
He left the bathroom then, putting all of his clothes into the basket Gwen had left out and wandering into the kitchen.
True to their words, Morgana and Gwen had made him a mug of hot chocolate. He sipped at it gingerly, remembering the stale bars of chocolate that he and Will had once found in the wreckage of a boat. It hadn’t been particularly tasty, but it had been old. This chocolate was brand new and the smell was unlike anything Merlin had experienced and, when he sipped it, it was delicious and warming.
“Thank you,” he said to Gwen, following Morgana over to the sitting area. She flicked on the box in the corner - a television, Merlin realised - and flicked through some of the channels, flicking it off soon after.
“Nothing’s worth watching at this time,” she said, rolling her eyes and tilting her head back to look at Merlin. “Mid-week, everyone’s working after all.”
Merlin nodded, pretending that he understood what she meant. He looked around the room and almost choked on a sip of his drink when he spotted a sleek, black object on one of the tables. It looked almost identical to his stone, aside from the fact that it was larger and looked easy to hold.
“The stone,” Morgana said. “Exclusive to Camelot apparently, but it works just like a phone. They were designed to imitate the Obsidian Stones and, allegedly, they all contain a small fleck of the original stones.”
Morgana’s face contorted into something ugly. “A fact which I made clear I did not approve of. Uther wouldn’t listen to any of us though and was intent on chipping down all the Obsidians in the queen’s garden.”
A sad look crossed Morgana’s face for a moment, but it was gone a moment later and replaced by the fierceness Merlin was used to seeing.
“Uther never really listens, not even to his own son,” she commented softly, and Merlin wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to hear that.
After the chocolate, and listening to Morgana and Gwen talking about anything and everything, Merlin was shown his bedroom. It was a modest room, comforting and with a decent sized bed. Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept on a bed and he tried not to run over and fling himself into the pillows.
“Help yourself to anything in the night,” Gwen said, poking her head through the door. “Morgana’s going to root out some old clothes for you, don’t ask where they came from,” she hastily added on the end. “It’s probably better you don’t know.”
Merlin didn’t want to think about that too much and simply bid Gwen a goodnight, falling back onto the bed as the door shut. He was grateful to have found Gwen and Morgana, two people who were kind and open to him. He knew this went far beyond anything his magic could have created and he realised that the people in the Sky Cities weren’t as ignorant or blind as he’d thought.
It was clear Morgana disagreed on a lot of things when it concerned Uther, such as the destruction of the Stones, and Gwen would follow her views anywhere, for the most part. They may be a minority, but Morgana would fight for her cause until the death if she had to. If she knew about what was going on below the Tower, she would wage a war by herself.
Merlin sighed, thinking back to the offhanded comment Morgana had made about the Stones and Ygraine’s garden. He’d have to ask her more about that, find out if she knew who could access the garden, or maybe who would think to go to the ruined Stone circle for peace.
The pillows were welcoming and Merlin had barely slipped his Obsidian from the waistband of his pyjamas before sleep started to creep in. He crawled under the duvet, sighing at the comfort that enveloped him, and fell asleep, the Stone clutched in his hand.
.
A week passed in a blur of seeing the sights of Camelot and getting to know Gwen and Morgana. When they were gone in the day, up to the castle for official business or to Gwen’s family workshop to make Old World trinkets, Merlin would walk around Camelot, searching for anything that could link him to the dragon and getting to know what the City ran on.
There were two systems, Merlin had discovered. There was the electrical system, all wires and energy stores, everything moving down, down, down and connecting to the Stone circle. When Merlin tried to feel it, all he could get was a humming buzz, something ugly and unnatural. It worked, well in fact, for the people of the City, but it wasn’t sustainable.
The second system, the older one, was for the magic. It was shoddily built, which made sense for the sorcerers of the past, the ones who had to pour their magic hurriedly into the Towers before the Ocean had risen. But these pathways contained so much more potential; Merlin could feel it, except the magic inside of them was twisted.
Of course it would be twisted, Merlin had realised. It was being forced out of people, stolen from those of no power and warped by the dragon’s magic. It wasn’t given with love or care that the original magic had been and it was because of this that Camelot was falling. You couldn’t sustain a kingdom on force alone and expect it to last forever.
Merlin had tried experimenting with a pathway, a small one inside of Gwen’s home. As with all the other magic channels, it was wrapped around an electrical one, but the two powers hadn’t fused as the sorcerers must have hoped. It wasn’t something that would occur naturally, at least not with the way the magic was in.
But Merlin managed to change it, summoning his power and pouring it directly into the electric cable. Unlike the magic pathway, you could see the cables with your own eyes and Merlin felt the change instantly.
The electricity ran smoother, bolstered by the pure magic. Merlin could tell without testing that the electricity he had just altered would last for a longer time and ideas began to creep inside of his head. Could it be done to the entire city? Merlin didn’t know, but he swore to find out, wondering if he finally had a solution to at least some of the problem.
It was after a week of this routine, with Merlin wandering around the huge city, cataloguing the people and the places, searching equally for his dragon and the crest of the prince, that Merlin wondered if he should just ask Morgana to find him work in the castle. While the crest was everywhere (literally everywhere), it meant little other than branding the Pendragon family across the New World.
He’d returned home that night - yes, Gwen’s apartment had become a home - to see Morgana and Gwen already home, evidently having finished up at the castle earlier.
“Merlin,” Morgana greeted warmly.
To begin with, their relationship had been somewhat rocky. Morgana hadn’t trusted him, Merlin knew that, and he wondered if she had magic of her own. That would have had an impact on how Merlin’s magic influenced those around him, a person’s own magic cutting off any sway his might have held. Morgana had grown to like him though, saying that he was an odd one, yet there was something she trusted in him, and Merlin had smiled, relieved that he hadn’t had to fool his way into all of his new friendships.
“We’re going out tonight,” she said brightly, clearly excited at the prospect.
Merlin looked over at Gwen. He hadn’t realised there was anywhere to go, other than general restaurants and bars, none of which had inspired this much excitement in Morgana before.
“To the Isle,” Morgana confirmed, and Gwen nodded her head a little.
At Merlin’s blank look, she continued, “The Isle of the Blessed, the hottest club this side of the Ocean.”
She shot Merlin an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it? I knew you weren’t down with popular culture and all, but this is the Isle. The place where you can forget everything, even that you’re human.”
At her words, Merlin felt an odd emotion rise in him. Why would anyone want to forget that they were human when they’d all accomplished so much? They had built a Tower to live on, spread across the skies in ways they never should have been able to, simply because they had harnessed magic and bent its will to fit the needs of the human population. And yes, it was a terrible thing, but it was amazingly resourceful and clever.
Why would anyone want to forget about that?
“It’s the place to be,” Morgana stressed again, shaking her head at Merlin. “Where, just for that night, you don’t have to have the world snapping at your heels and you can forget all your worries.”
Merlin looked at her this time. Morgana’s eyes were bright and wide, excited as she was, and Merlin knew that this was a battle he’d never win. Evidently Gwen hadn’t been lying when she’d told him that whatever Morgana wanted, Morgana got.
Thinking about it, in all honesty, wouldn’t one night to himself be good? He’d only been in Camelot for a few days and already Merlin had been subject to a completely new and different world that it would be nice just to relax and forget it all. Surely he could afford to forget about his destiny just for one night? Nothing life-changing would happen in one night, after all.
“I don’t have any clothes,” he said weakly, knowing that Gwen and Morgana would find something. And they did, in record time, and Merlin was only slightly ashamed to say that the jeans clearly belonged to Morgana, being as skinny and malnourished as he was.
The journey to the club was uneventful, Gwen hailing one of the light-weight, track-free shuttles that served as taxis, and the three of them climbing in. Morgana fired off the directions and they were off, oddly sober and Merlin with a clear head.
In all the books he’d read, and the magazines for that matter, you were supposed to be tumbling out of clubs, swaying under the influence of alcohol. There hadn’t been a drop yet, even though the Isle was supposed to make you forget. Perhaps it was just some New World thing.
He found out, after they’d been ushered into the club, skipping the long queue thanks to Morgana, that it was a New World thing. In fact, the bouncers at the doors refused entry to anyone who had been drinking, sending them off with a roll of the eye.
Morgana led them down the wide stairs, Gwen and Merlin in tow. At the foot of the stairs lay a wide foyer area, strangely clean and prim for a club. Off of that, there were two doors, one bigger than the other and clearly the door to the rest of the club, while the other was smaller and manned by someone in a glowing, neon-coloured shirt.
They were let in to the manned door, the guard bowing his head when he took in Morgana’s fearsome presence. Merlin gave the man a side look, wondering why they were headed away from the club and into an obviously secret room.
As if reading his thoughts, Morgana turned to Merlin as they stood in a darkened room. “This is where you come to forget,” she said, casting her hands up and out, showing the room to Merlin.
It was an impressive room, with swirling wallpaper. Someone clapped their hands and the swirls lit up, twinkling with electricity and… Merlin did a double take. The walls weren’t just twinkling with electricity, magic was flowing freely in the swirls, more powerful than Merlin had seen in Camelot.
He could feel his own magic responding, welcomingly and as if it wanted to pull the magic from the walls. A tendril snaked out to curl around Merlin curiously and he tried to show no reaction, even when he realised that this was unlike any magic he’d felt before. It felt twisted, but not in a bad way.
The magic brushed against Merlin’s own and he suddenly realised why Morgana wanted to come here of all places. He tried not to look at her, not to give himself away, but risked a small glance and his suspicions were confirmed in the curl of Morgana’s lips and her half-lidded eyes.
The kick that the Isle of the Blessed provided, first and foremost, was to cater to those with magic. Somehow the people who had designed the club had added something - a drug perhaps, an emotion maybe, Merlin didn’t understand - into the magic that fortified the building. The magic reacted with each person’s own, passing on the pleasurable feeling, one more powerful than any drug could provide.
Morgana had magic. However latent or powerful it might be, she still possessed some, and so was able to get a high greater than she would otherwise.
“The Lady Morgana,” a voice said, from the back of the room. A blonde haired woman stepped forwards, warm smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around Morgana. “It’s been too long since I saw you last, how are you?”
As Morgana spoke to the woman, evidently a friend, Merlin turned to look at Gwen and noticed that she was beginning to fall under the spell of the magic too, a soft smile on her lips and a slight glassy quality to her eyes.
“We’ll go into the main area soon, Morgana just wanted to see how Morgause was,” Merlin was informed and was glad to see, at least, that Gwen hadn’t begun slurring her words.
“I see you’ve brought a friend,” Morgana’s friend - Morgause - said and Merlin looked at her, automatically wary in the same way he’d been of Morgana at first.
“I’m Merlin,” he introduced, though he didn’t hold out a hand. His magic was practically bubbling under his skin and he didn’t want to risk anyone realising is power.
“Your first night is free,” Morgause said, smiling. “You have the full range of potions and cures to sample, take advantage of the fact you’re Morgana’s friend.”
She turned her attention away from Merlin again and whispered something in Morgana’s ear, drawing a roll of the eyes and a sigh from the woman.
“Enjoy your evening,” Morgause said as they left the room, Gwen linking her arm with Morganas as they stepped ahead, tottering slightly on their heels as they all crossed the space between the doors.
The first thing that Merlin thought as the doors open was that all the magazines and books had been right. There were people everywhere, crammed into the room and in every space imaginable. Music pounded through the room and the doors closed silently behind them, blocking off the real world and reality.
Magic swirled lazily in the air, dancing through the crowd and brushing against the people throwing their hands up or grinding together. There was nothing beautiful about this kind of magic, at least not in an aesthetic sense, but it allowed everyone in the room freedom and a chance to forget their mundane lives slogging away for a stale world that was never really going anywhere.
Morgana led them to the bar first, gesturing to Gwen and Merlin before drinks were slid towards them.
He had a choice now, Merlin realised. He could say no, watch and fight off the sway of the magic around him or he could say yes. If he said yes, then for one night he could just be Merlin of Camelot, another subject to the king who knew nothing about the terrible travesties that were being committed. For one night he didn’t have to think about the weight placed upon his shoulders as Emrys and, as barbaric as it sounded, he didn’t have anyone waiting for him.
In the morning he’d return to saving the people he loved, but Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something for himself. One night wouldn’t be so terrible, would it, so Merlin took the drink, downing it alongside Gwen and Morgana.
The night blurred on, so fast and so slow at the same time. Drinks were free flowing and fast and Merlin was almost certain at one point there had been pills, but he didn’t care. His magic was racing inside of him, shooting around like bird in the sky, and it felt so good, he felt so good that nothing else mattered.
He was happy. Genuinely happy, with people who he could call friends and enjoying himself.
The music changed again and the people around him rose in cheers at an apparently familiar tune, bobbing their heads and swaying shoulders to the music, drinks splashing down Merlin’s front as he stumbled to the bar, waving for the next round for Morgana and himself. Gwen had said no this time, so Merlin returned to the floor with a drink in either hand, blinking as he tried to locate Morgana.
Merlin eventually found her, wrapped up against someone and kissing them soundly, so he backed off with a wolfish grin. Good for her, he thought, as Morgana was the kind of person who would seize her chance when she could. And in the morning? Well it didn’t matter did it? This was the time to forget who they were and wash away the troubles of their normal lives. They’d simply put this night in the past in the morning and move on.
As Merlin turned, with the intention to find Gwen and shout with her about Morgana hooking up, his hand jerked against something, sploshing one of the drinks over someone’s leg.
“Oi,” a voice said and Merlin looked at the man with wide eyes, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry,” he said, half-wailing, “Really, really sorry. I mean… how did that happen?” Merlin stared at the empty drink in his hands, then remembered he had another one in the other.
“Here,” he shoved the drink at the man, this time not spilling it. “To say sorry,” he slurred slightly, letting out a huff of laugh.
In a surprising turn, the man reached for Merlin’s drink with an accompanying laugh, his other hand taking the empty from Merlin and throwing it on the floor.
“It’s fine,” he whispered and Merlin looked at him. He was all blonde hair and blue eyes, confident swagger and yet there was something behind all of that, something that made Merlin want to pull him closer and make him spill all of his secrets.
His magic apparently agreed, for it sizzled under his skin. The man was still holding Merlin’s fingers between his own in their empty hands, and Merlin hadn’t let go of the drink yet, and those points of touch were the only comfortable places over his whole body.
As a final push, Merlin remembered Morgana’s resolve and how tonight wasn’t his chance to be Merlin from across the ocean, but to be Merlin of Camelot. He was a brand new person and if this brand new person was drawn to someone then he was going to go with it, especially considering the way his magic reacted.
“I’m Merlin,” he said, moving against the man to say it in his ear. The blonde stiffened as Merlin pressed against him, before he tilted his head back, raking his eyes over Merlin’s face before breaking into a smile.
“Arthur,” he replied, against the shell of Merlin’s ear. “And I probably shouldn’t have another drink, considering the amount I’ve had tonight.”
Merlin smiled and then the drink was gone from his hands and Arthur had his head tilted back, throat exposed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, just before he passed the drink back to Merlin, showing that he’d only drunken half of it.
“What do you say?” Arthur asked as Merlin took the cup, draining the rest of the drink. It burnt down his throat, but he held Arthur’s stare, challenging him.
The kiss tasted of alcohol and hurt, burning into Merlin as Arthur seized his lips. There was a moment of pause before Merlin dropped the cup on the floor, not caring that it would soon be thousands of plastic shards under the dance floor’s feet, and moved his hands to grip tightly to Arthur, daring him to stop.
It would be a lie to say Merlin was experienced, but he was hardly innocent. Before he’d realised he’d preferred men, there had been a few kisses and uncertain touches with the girls in the village. And then he had realised he preferred men and there had been that one time, when Will had found an old bottle of whiskey under a floorboard, that Will said he was curious and they’d clumsily jacked each other off… but this was different.
Merlin had never been kissed like this, with strength and passion, even though they were both shit-faced and well on their way to passing out. Arthur made Merlin’s magic tingle violently, until the only way he could tamper down the sensation was to shove a knee between Arthur’s legs and try to feel every inch of the man, kissing him harder.
“Do you want to,” Arthur began, breaking their kiss before ducking back in, as drawn to Merlin as Merlin was to him. “Come back to mine?”
He should say no, should turn around and find Gwen and make her take him out of the Isle, or maybe grab Morgana and tell her they had to go… but Merlin did none of these things. His magic hummed inside of his chest, almost making the decision for him, and he tilted his head back, looking at Arthur with half-lidded eyes and smiled.
“Sure,” he agreed, wanting Arthur more than anything he’d ever wanted and feeling as though this was right somehow, as though something was falling into place.
They left then, Merlin wrapped against Arthur, kissing his neck and lapping at his collarbone as they walked out of the club. The air wasn’t cool, wasn’t natural, but Merlin paid no mind, because Arthur’s hand was snaking under his shirt and his fingers were sparking off his magic with every touch.
He didn’t notice the part of the city they went to, only that it was in a slightly different direction to Gwen’s house. He didn’t notice what Arthur’s place looked like, simply hauling the man against one of the walls as he fumbled for his keys, kissing him without regret.
When they finally got inside, Arthur led them to the sofa, pushing Merlin back until they both fell, Arthur grinning above him as if his birthday had come early.
They didn’t say much, but there wasn’t a lot that needed to be said. Their hands did most of the talking, and the rest was matched by moans and breathy kisses, intensifying as soon as Arthur freed their erections, rutting against Merlin like a teenager just breaking into his puberty stride.
For a moment it scared Merlin what he could reduce Arthur to, but then their cocks brushed and Merlin didn’t need to think anymore, simply lying back and kissing Arthur again, cupping his hand over their cocks and rubbing.
Soon after that, the night took them both and they collapsed on the sofa, dead to the world.
.
| Part Ten|