Mykonos 12/16
| Masterpost| Part Eleven|
Everything had changed for them now, what with Morgause being part of their group, though not properly involved. They now could move around without hurting other people and they had the advantage of finding out more about Nimueh and what she was doing.
Morgana and Gwen had said they’d try to find out what they could, but Merlin didn’t hold much hope that they’d be able to find out much, let alone something important. Arthur had only discovered a partial truth and that had been because he was the prince, able to access all areas freely. Besides, he had accidentally stumbled upon it and Merlin doubted that Nimueh discussed private matters at the time of day that Morgana and Gwen would be there, considering they didn’t live at the castle and spent as little time there as possible.
The journey back to Gwen and Morgana’s was slow, with the bustling, busy people shoving and pushing at Merlin as he walked down the pavement, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.
He still had a lot to tell Arthur. Merlin hadn’t fully explained about the magic and Pickings, and while Morgause would understand how it was done, Arthur wouldn’t. And there was still the matter of Ygraine to disclose, but Merlin didn’t know how to approach the subject.
It was clear that Arthur wasn’t his father’s man, but that didn’t matter when he’d spent his whole life raised by the man and dictated by him. Arthur still loved his father, still respected him on most levels and still saw him as his king. Merlin knew that from spending just two days in his company.
Everything was a mess and Merlin was right in the centre of it all. There was too much in his head, too much crammed into a tiny space, and he knew that he had to get it all out soon or he’d drive himself to insanity with the weight of it all.
Morgana and Gwen were home when Merlin entered, and Morgana fixed him with a stern look.
“You were supposed to be home,” she said, remarkably like Morgause. Merlin was tired of it all though, having to conceal the truth from so many people and bargain with others. He shook his head and said, “I just wanted some fresh air,” and walking to his room.
He barely got through his doorway when he heard Gwen chiding Morgana, and he couldn’t help but smile. After changing into comfier clothes, he re-joined the girls and took a plate of offered food, following them into the sitting room and hunkering down on the sofa.
“We didn’t find anything,” Gwen said, after the silence became too heavy to be comfortable any longer. Morgana sniffed on the other side of the sofa, pointedly ignoring Merlin as he grimaced.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, taking a mouthful of dinner and plastering a smile on his face as he chewed. “Why don’t we just enjoy the evening? Tomorrow I promise I’ll tell you everything… I won’t even take a walk or whatever.”
Gwen’s face instantly brightened and Merlin looked at Morgana, keeping his smile and keeping his face placid, hoping that she’d buy it too. She scrutinised him for a moment before she nodded, satisfied with Merlin’s idea.
“Fine, but I expect you to tell us the whole truth tomorrow.” She smiled, mood lifting. “We did have quite a hard day,” she admitted, rolling her eyes at Gwen. “Arthur’s been slacking recently and it’s sent Uther into a rage. I mean, I know he’s the prince and thinks he’s the best in the world, but he didn’t even give an excuse as to why he skipped out on his duties today.”
Morgana shook her head. “Always was an arrogant prat,” she mumbled and Gwen sighed, setting her fork on the side of her plate.
“Not this again. Seriously, whenever you’re not at each other’s throats, you’re calling names behind each other’s backs. It’s juvenile, really,” Gwen chided, looking to Merlin as if seeking support.
“Um, sure,” he said. “Though I don’t know Arthur,” he added, hoping to turn the conversation to their tryst and exploit the embarrassment, distancing himself from Arthur for possible places he’d gone to hide when he left the next day.
Morgana took the bait, grinning widely like the cat that’d got the cream.
“I’m sure you know Arthur better than either of us,” she said, smirking. “Don’t try and deny it, though I love how pink he gets,” she added, turning to Gwen.
Gwen, who was supposed to be the kind one and defender of Merlin, laughed. “Oh come on, leave him alone. He gets embarrassed enough as it is, imagine if he actually saw Arthur again?”
Thank you, Merlin thought.
“That’s true. I think sirens would erupt if Merlin ever saw him again.” Morgana’s smile turned kinder as she looked back at Merlin. “We’re only teasing you,” she said, patting his leg.
They spent the rest of the evening watching films on TV, of complex action scenes and story plots that Merlin couldn’t quite grasp, not having grown up in a Sky City. Morgana and Gwen tried their best to explain, but there were only so many questions that you could ask before people got annoyed and told you to shut up and watch the film.
They went to bed late, Merlin savouring every moment he could, knowing that everything would change in the morning, even if Gwen and Morgana didn’t sense it over breakfast. He packed the few belongings he had into a rucksack that had been in the corner of the room, making sure he had the clothes Morgana had given him as well as the shirts he’d taken from Arthur. He kept one out to wear the next day, somehow wanting the tiny connection to Arthur to make sure he went through with leaving.
As he lay back in bed that night, Merlin wondered, for the first time in ages, about the future. Tomorrow night he’d be at Arthur’s, probably on the sofa, and they’d be a step closer to fulfilling an age-old prophecy. One more step closer to defying everything Camelot had been built upon and closer to Merlin discovering what the choice he’d have to make was.
It didn’t scare him, or at least not yet, because he had no idea what it involved. There was so much more to get through before all of that, that Merlin couldn’t worry about a choice that was in the future. He had to worry about Morgana and Gwen, hope that Morgause would keep Nimueh’s attention away from them and hope that he and Arthur could find a way to help everyone who was suffering.
He fell asleep shortly after that, gripping one of Arthur’s shirts in his hand.
.
By the time Merlin woke up, Gwen and Morgana had already gone. There was a note left on the kitchen counter - flashing on the work surface, a far cry from a pen and paper message Merlin would have expected - that said they’d see him later, when they’d all talk.
He felt guilty for leaving, but Merlin couldn’t afford to stay. Besides, now that they had struck a bargain with Morgause, Merlin couldn’t double back on his side of the argument. He had to move forwards now, move forwards and step next to Arthur, where they could change the world for the better.
He slunk from the house with a single rucksack, feeling like a thief. It was relatively early in the morning and the crowds throughout Camelot were thinner than usual, most of the public plugged into their offices and work stations, racking up points for the stock market and keeping the City ticking over.
When he arrived at Arthur’s, Merlin entered the code for the door and slid in, sighing in relief he hadn’t known he’d been craving as the door slid shut behind him. Since learning that Nimueh knew about him, Merlin felt slightly nervous in the open, preferring company to hide behind, should it come to that.
And, for some reason, being in Arthur’s house felt right. Merlin felt as though he belonged there, as if their purpose was being met simply by living in the same house.
He dumped his bag off at the end of the sofa, walking to Arthur’s bedroom where the books were kept, stacked on a wall-long shelf. For someone who had never seen so many books, it was amazing to see them all neatly lines up, in pristine condition and undamaged by the elements.
Merlin walked around the large bed, plain white sheets, boring and opposite to Arthur’s nature, and rested the tips of his fingers on the bedside table, planted between the shelf and the bed, balancing slightly as his eyes skimmed over titles. He looked up and down, occasionally plucking a book from its spot to place it on the bed, before doing another scan of the shelves and selecting a few more volumes.
With his stack of treasure, Merlin walked back to the living room, placing his pile on the table and lying stomach-down on the cushions to start reading.
The first book he’d picked was a history of the royal family, from the time of the Great Flood to present day. Merlin flicked through the pages, skimming information about Arthur’s ancestors, stopping at the page for the current king and frowning as the book detailed his life and achievements.
While it was true that Uther had revolutionised the production of electricity, installing solar technology and planting wind farms on the tips of the towers, he’d most likely only done that because it was the last option left. No one else had taken those measures, but that was because the imbalance between magic and the New World hadn’t been so prevalent.
There was a picture of a young, smiling woman on one of the pages and Merlin traced his finger over the page, smiling at how free and beautiful Ygraine looked.
“Childhood friend of Uther, the woman who would grow up to become the beloved Queen Ygraine,” Merlin read, shaking his head slightly as he thought of the lonely woman miles and miles below him. Where was she in this woman’s future?
The book gave a brief overview of her supposed death, a paragraph that explained she became ill months after her son was born, a complication from the birth ruled as the major cause of death. People had mourned, Uther was wracked with grief, but he bravely pulled onwards, pushing everything into saving Camelot.
There was a tiny picture of Arthur, just a small child, but he had the same, lost look on his face. Merlin’s heart twinged at the sight of the lost little boy, a scruffy horse doll clenched in one of his hands and a loneliness far beyond his years evident in his eyes, even through the paper of the photograph.
“Oh Arthur,” Merlin said softly. In all of his books, all of the fairy tales and games he’d played back on Ealdor, the prince had been a treasured character. The prince had been the happiest, bravest character, the one whom everyone loved and always, always had the happy ending.
But being a real prince wasn’t anything like the games or the stories. Arthur had suffered at his father’s hand, from never having enough friends or attention, instead striving to be the perfect model of an adult that his father had wanted, but a child should never be. It was no doubt that Arthur didn’t have anyone close; Merlin had read enough from the book to see Uther was a man who preferred his distance. Arthur would have copied that, learnt from it, and it had destroyed his blooming relationships with children of his own age.
Merlin placed the book back on the table, rolling onto his side as he picked another one up, tracing the cover lazily and whispering the title.
“Mykonos,” he said, the words coloured gold and sweeping over the cover.
It was a story, Merlin realised, as he flipped the page over and looked through names of people and places, of gods and monsters and epic battles fought and lost. There were so few stories left in the New World - and Merlin should know that as he’d asked Gwen and Morgana once, but Morgana had rolled her eyes saying that the only stories were the tales Uther told to appease the Court - that Merlin knew this was a rare treasure.
The pages were dog-eared and a few still folded slightly. It was clearly a favourite of Arthur’s, and Merlin held the little book tightly, skimming through the backstory of gods and their eternal struggles.
When he was done, Merlin lay back on the sofa, the book resting on his chest, heart beating heavily in his chest, not quite knowing why it struck him so deeply.
The story had been between gods and titans, forces of nature itself, and staged upon the titular island of Mykonos. The struggle had been a choice between family, of revenge and cruelty, of nature and its whims. It was completely different to Merlin and Arthur’s fate, yet so eerily similar at the same time.
Arthur would have to fight his family. There was no maybes or ifs, he would have to do it now that he’d aligned himself with Merlin. Merlin had already battled the elements and found that he could tame them, chain them to his will and force them to let him pass where all else would have failed. They echoed the gods of the story in a horrific manner, one that Merlin never would have wanted to admit.
The story wasn’t beautiful, unlike the stories of his childhood. Those stories had been built upon ‘once upon a times’ and ‘happily ever afters’. The struggle Mykonos had placed wasn’t one that was over, and had shadowed consequences later. This would be true for their battle and Camelot. Whatever happened, whether they succeeded or failed, Camelot would never be the same after.
Merlin let the book rest on the sofa and he buried his face in his hands. It seemed as though the whole thing would never be over, even before they’d properly started. The world crashed down on all of them and yet there was nothing Merlin could do, yet anyway.
The principles were simple. Free the people taken during Pickings, use magic to repair and meld the electrical-magical systems and open the gates for those who needed a home.
Of course, those were just the principles. How they could free the people, Merlin did not know, and he hadn’t even covered the subject of fortifying the City. He was powerful, yes, but he didn’t have enough magic to covert the whole of Camelot, Merlin knew, could feel that fact in his chest.
He threw the book on the table, small and thin compared to the other volumes Merlin had brought out. It truly was a pathetic object in comparison, but the word had struck him deeply in ways that the other books wouldn’t. if there were such things as prophecies and oracles, this book - read so many times by Arthur and singled out by Merlin - could have a bigger meaning, foreshadowing their own battles perhaps.
In the end, the gods won against the forces of nature. If it foreshadowed their fight, Merlin realised that he would have to choose between the gods - Arthur, so, very clearly it had to be Arthur - and the titans, the magic and nature he had always had by his side. It was the choice, Merlin understood, that he’d have to make, the choice that could either save the world or throw it into further chaos.
Still, that time was not now, and Merlin pushed himself up off of the sofa and walked into the kitchen. Since the last time he’d been there, Arthur had restocked his cupboards with proper food, so Merlin made himself a plain sandwich, something New World-y, but tasted like chicken, and returned to the sofa, switching on the TV and submerging himself in bland, monotonous shows.
When Arthur returned home, it had passed midday and was creeping onto early evening. He looked tired and stopped when he entered the lounge, looking at Merlin in slight surprise, before his wits caught up with him and he nodded, smiling a little too stiffly for it to be real.
“You managed to get away then,” he commented lightly, moving into his bedroom. The door half-closed and Merlin heard the tell-tale rustlings of someone changing, so politely kept his gaze fixed on the television and not, not, letting his eyes drift to the door of the bedroom in hope.
“It was surprisingly easy,” Merlin said as Arthur reappeared, hair dishevelled and dressed in plain clothes. “For all they went on about it, I was half-convinced they’d shackle me to a table or something.”
It was intended as a joke, and Merlin smiled weakly, but the words didn’t quite reach their potential, the pair of them too caught up in the seriousness of it all.
Arthur joined him on the sofa, side-eyeing the books Merlin had been flicking through.
“My family history?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why Merlin,” he said, with faux-surprise “I didn’t know you cared.”
Merlin grunted, a small smile slipping onto his face. “I like to do my research before shacking up with a stranger,” he replied as Arthur slung an arm across the back of the sofa cushions. “You know, in case they turn out to be a psycho with hidden agendas and all.”
“Hidden agendas,” Arthur deadpanned, before he gave a shark bark of laughter, shaking his head. “You’re one of a kind,” he said a moment later, looking at Merlin as if he was something more, something greater.
Shrugging the compliment off, Merlin shifted in his seat, turning so he could see Arthur a little better, the conversation drawing down to business again.
“Yesterday I mentioned the Stones and the Pickings,” he began, looking at Arthur to see if he was following what he was saying. Comprehension was clear in his eyes, so Merlin continued.
“I’m going to explain it properly, so you can understand why it’s so terrible,” Merlin said.
“I know why it’s terrible,” Arthur shot back, frowning slightly. Merlin nodded, but didn’t back down.
“You do,” he agreed, “But you have to understand, not just know. The only way that you can help them is if you know exactly what they’re going through, and so I have to tell you every detail.”
Arthur looked as if he was about to disagree, then thought better of it, simply nodding and waiting for Merlin to continue.
“I’m different to every other sorcerer there is,” Merlin began with a wry smile, “But even so, I know what magic is like, what it feels like.”
“What does it feel like?” Arthur interrupted quietly, glancing at Merlin.
“It’s…” Merlin started, then realised he couldn’t quite explain it. “I can’t explain,” he admitted, and Arthur’s face visibly fell.
“But,” he hurried on, “I think I can show you what it feels like, if you want.”
Arthur’s eyes were wide and clear blue as he looked at Merlin in surprise.
“Show me?” he parroted dumbly. Merlin nodded.
“Here, give me your hand,” and Arthur gave him his hand, their palms slipping together with ease.
Merlin took the hand, pressing it palm-first to his chest, exactly in the centre where he felt the ball of magic coil warmly. He didn’t even have to think for his magic to react, the ball bubbling happily at the contact, surging up to meet Arthur.
At this proximity, Merlin could feel the latent magic inside of Arthur. It was the magic that had helped to create him, still there in his veins, almost completely dormant yet unsullied. It gave a slight twitch of interest as Merlin’s own magic flowed into Arthur, but accepted the foreign power with ease, letting it pass into Arthur and fill him up.
“How does that feel?” Merlin asked, the connection between them stronger than it had ever been.
“It’s…” Arthur said, mirroring Merlin’s earlier words with awe in his voice. “Unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”
They remained like that, connected deeper than touch would ever let them, for a few minutes more. In those minutes, Merlin felt the lethargic swirl of Arthur’s magic as it moved through him, curiously yet sluggish. It felt different to his own magic, but just as wonderful, with just as much potential and something that could only be described as Arthur contained in it.
But, as with so any things, the connection had to end, and their magic separated reluctantly as Arthur removed his hand from Merlin, and Merlin pulled his magic back into the ball in his chest. It had been an experience, but it couldn’t last.
“The people you call sorcerers have enough magic to get by and use themselves, even if they can’t do much with it,” Merlin said calmly. “The people they take for the Pickings have only a fraction of the magic the sorcerers have and almost all of them have no idea it’s there at all.”
“So they can’t use it,” Arthur said slowly, “Can’t feel it?”
Merlin shook his head. “They’re taken from their families, made unconscious where they remain for the rest of their lives.” He looked down, sickened by the thought of how many people he’d had to leave behind even though he’d been so close, so near to them.
Arthur was silent for a moment, considering his words. “How can it be taken from them then?” It wasn’t said accusingly, just curiously, as Arthur openly admitted that he didn’t understand and wanted to know everything he could.
“The Stone Circle is the sorcerer’s main channel of power. It’s connected to everything; the earth, the City, the people even.” Merlin sighed lightly, “The sorcerers twist the Circle, warp its power and channel it into the cubicles the refugees are lying in. They chained it to the dragon’s magic, the Great Dragon, down in the very earth itself, so that the magic passes through and pulls any trace of magic out, no matter how deep down or small it is.”
That was Merlin’s understanding of how it worked. It wasn’t fully comprehensive, due to the fact that he had never seen the Circle or felt the connections when he’d been down in the cubicle, but it was what made sense from everything he’d been told and seen so far.
“They have to renew the spells more often now,” Merlin continued, voice quiet. “The magic is wearing off and dying, but it’s not because it’s being eradicated.”
“You said magic wanted to be used,” Arthur said, looking at Merlin. “But if it wants to be used, then why are their spells ineffective?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted freely. “But I think it’s because what they’ve done is twisted. Nimueh is messing with a Circle that has survived for centuries and will keep on surviving long after we’re all gone. She’s playing with the elements of the earth and hasn’t bothered to make sure that they were compatible.”
He paused, trying to think of a clearer explanation. “It’s like oil and water,” he began, thinking of the large pools of oil that had often floated on the waters around Ealdor. “Magic and electricity can’t mix together in the way that Nimueh and the other sorcerers want. I’ve felt it, there are two pathways that will never be able to merge and it’s slowly destroying the City.”
Merlin ran a hand through his hair, shifting in his seat until his feet were resting on the floor and his forearms rested on his thighs. His head was downcast, shoulders heavy with expectation and doing what was right.
“From the beginning, magic was used to build the Tower. Everyone knows that,” he said, and Arthur gave a light grunt in agreement. “But that magic is fading, has faded, because it’s not connected to the earth and can’t connect to the natural magic all around us.”
He stopped, shaking his head slightly, trying to un-jumble all the injustices and the wrongs that their ancestors had begun.
“And that’s why they steal the magic,” Arthur said, though it wasn’t a question, but a fact.
Merlin nodded.
“But if that’s the case,” Arthur murmured, voice low, “Then what can we do to stop it? The magic won’t just connect; they would have tried that before going to the trouble to warp the Stones, surely?”
Shrugging, Merlin replied, “I don’t know what they did. All I know is that magic and electricity can be made compatible, and through that I’m sure the Tower can be reinforced. With the right conduit and the right amount of power, it can be linked back down to the earth and use that as a natural resource.”
He hadn’t said it, but Merlin knew that Arthur understood what he was saying. It would be possible, because Merlin would do it. He had done it, on a much smaller degree and only as a test, but it was proof that it could be done. Magic and the New World could merge together, and Merlin would be the one to do it.
“So you can do it?” Arthur asked, focusing solely on Merlin. “You can save them all?”
“It’s what I was prophesised to do,” he said, with a lilt of sarcasm. “And it’s what I crossed the Ocean for. I have to at least try,” he continued, looking at Arthur with bright eyes. “They have my mother down there, and my friends.”
“Gaius too,” Arthur said, having picked that up from the conversation with Morgause, and Merlin nodded sadly.
“It’s the only way we can make Camelot safe for all of those people on the ground. When the Tower is reinforced, we can build again, make it bigger for all of those who need a home.” Merlin’s voice was hopeful, almost pleading for Arthur to accept it and agree. After all, he couldn’t do this without Arthur, just as Arthur couldn’t do without Merlin.
“So what do we do now?” Merlin asked a moment later, when Arthur hadn’t replied. Arthur was frowning, jaw clenched and hands mashed together, knuckles white.
“You said that we need to find a way to merge the pathways, combine the magic and electricity rather than force them to work together?” Arthur asked quietly, gaze sliding over Merlin.
“It’s the only way I can think of that we can save the Tower,” Merlin replied. “If enough magic was poured into the channels that run throughout the City, I believe you can root the Tower to the ground and to the natural magic in the earth.”
Arthur looked amazed at the prospect, and Merlin smiled slightly, glad he understood where Merlin was going. If they could root the Tower to the ancient magic in the earth, there wouldn’t be a need to renew spells, no need to keep thousands of people locked up as slaves and no need to worry about stealing their magic. The energy from the earth would flow through the Tower, powering the structure and reinforcing it.
Merlin knew that sorcerers would still be needed to check that the sources were flowing correctly, but it meant that magic wasted in trapping children and sucking their souls could be sent on building Camelot, opening the doors to those camped on the ground. And if Camelot ran out of space, who was to say that the support towers couldn’t be changed, smaller Cities being built on the tops of them, all interlinking to Camelot.
Both Merlin and Arthur could envision this new City, and they drew into thicker discussion, time passing quietly outside as they smiled and gestured along with their ideas, planning a better, greater world than the one they lived in right now.
It wasn’t until Arthur pulled back from where they’d navigated together, legs pressed together and heads bent low, checking the clock and making a small sound of surprise.
“Wow,” he said, and Merlin followed his gaze to the clock on the wall, eyebrows arching as he noticed how late it was.
Dinner was a quiet affair, almost hurried, and after that came Arthur’s simple announcement he was going to bed. For a moment, he stood between where Merlin sat on the sofa and the kitchen, looking to his bedroom door and then the sofa, looking for all the world that he’d invite Merlin in. A second later, though, he shook his head and looked down, saying that he’d fetch some blankets and a pillow.
Disappointment rose up in Merlin, even though he knew that they shouldn’t do anything. They’d already done too much, and that had been under the influence of alcohol. They were friend, allies, and nothing more, no matter what his magic may want.
Arthur returned a moment later with, true to his word, a set of blankets and a pillow. He shifted his weight on his feet, handing the materials to Merlin without a word.
“Well,” Merlin began, desperately reaching for the companionable atmosphere that had clouded them before this. “Good night then.”
Nothing more was said as Arthur walked into his room, closing the door soundly behind himself. Merlin set the blankets on the sofa and plumped up the pillow, trying and failing not to think about Arthur.
The problem was, Merlin couldn’t quite remember what it had been like to be with Arthur. He could remember snatches - the darkness of the night as they’d stumbled, the warmth of Arthur’s breath against his throat and the frantic rush they’d been in - but it wasn’t enough. Now that he had to be here with Arthur, and only Arthur now, Merlin couldn’t help but want more.
It certainly didn’t help that his magic felt as though it deserved more, wanting to curl against Arthur and seep into him, relax him and soothe away his worries. Merlin couldn’t let it though, because if he let his magic slip through just once, it would never be enough.
Merlin sighed and rolled over, tucking an arm under his head. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about Arthur that he needed. His magic could sense that and it was only common sense holding Merlin back. He could remember what Morgana and Gwen had said about Arthur not having taken anyone home for a while and knew that his magic had swayed the prince. It hadn’t forced him, but it had interested Arthur beyond what he would normally feel, and that made Merlin dangerous, to an extent.
He needed to focus on Aglain’s teachings to control his magic, rather than rely on Arthur and what his magic wanted. And then, perhaps when all this was over…
Merlin felt the Obsidian against his heart and closed his eyes, slipping easily into sleep for the first time in a long while, content that he was striding towards his destiny.
.
It was three days before Merlin finally snapped. It was morning and Arthur was pouring over some papers his father had left for him, something about power shortages in part of the City, and Merlin had just finished the bland food that was his usual breakfast now.
“I need to get out of here,” he said, pacing in the space between lounge and kitchen.
Arthur paused in his reading, looking up at Merlin with his hair tousled and eyes narrowed slightly from waking up not too long ago.
“Out?” he asked, “even with what Morgause said about Nimueh?”
Morgause had dutifully been in contact, through an alias of course, and informed them that Nimueh’s behaviour of late had been erratic and unpredictable. She’d pressed them to be cautious, warning them multiple times of the risk they would be taking if they left their security, and Merlin bit his lip, considering the pros and cons.
“I know it might be dangerous,” he began, and Arthur raised an eyebrow, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip. “But I’m going to go crazy if I have to stay here much longer. Do you know how boring television is in the day? I don’t think I can take anymore stock exchange reports or how to enhance your looks with cosmetic surgery.”
Arthur gave a huff of laughter before he drew back to seriousness, noting the annoyance Merlin had to be projecting by now.
“I have to review these this morning, so maybe you can help,” he began and Merlin frowned, it not quite being the answer he’d expected. “But how about we do lunch or something? I’d rather stick together if you want to go out. Nimueh will be risking treason if she wanted to do something to me, but you’re unknown.”
Merlin nodded a little shakily, knowing it was the truth. Though he should feel a little sad he couldn’t be alone - he was an Islander, one who had enjoyed walking the rugged beaches when he could - Merlin wanted to be with Arthur, and so the reply was easy.
“Lunch it is then,” he said with a smile.
They poured over the reports and Arthur jotted down some ideas for his father down. When the time came to leave the house, they slipped through Arthur’s section of the City and hit the main streets, merging in with everyday life.
The weather in Camelot was good that morning, artificial sky bright and sunny. Merlin missed the open skies and winds, yes, but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the lumen-sun. It was just as warm as any real sun and there was also comfort in knowing that, unlike the true elements, he was safe under its rays. It wasn’t real, as with so much of this City, and it was one less thing to worry about going wrong.
“Here,” Arthur said, interrupting Merlin’s thoughts as they paused on the pavement. Sunlight caught Arthur’s hair, and Merlin offered a small smile, probably a bit too wide and a bit too stupid, but Arthur smiled back and that was what mattered.
“It’s not the traditional restaurant you’ll fine in the City,” he added, opening the door and letting Merlin pass through into the comfortable bubble of a busy restaurant. “But it’s a favourite of mine. The food’s good and so’s the service.”
It was a nice restaurant, and as the staff recognised who Arthur was - being prince did have some benefits after all - they were ushered to a private table, right in the heart of the restaurant. Service came at once, menus presented in pomp and drinks ordered without any fuss. While Merlin hadn’t been to any restaurant aside from the Restaurant where he’d met Gwen, he could tell that this wasn’t the usual experience for average subjects in Camelot.
They chose their lunches, Arthur often explaining what the meals were to Merlin, and ordered easily. Just when everything was going well, Merlin relaxing into the afternoon and narrowing his world down to Arthur (without the saving-the-world issues), a woman walked by and Arthur stiffened at once.
She turned on her heel, wearing sunglasses and a hat that covered a large portion of her face, but it did nothing to hide the wide smile across her face.
The woman sat down at the table, tipping the unnecessary glasses up onto the crown of her head, smirking at Merlin before she turned her attention to Arthur. Beside him, Merlin felt Arthur tense, and he wondered who the woman was.
"Arthur," she greeted casually, before her eyes flicked to Merlin. "Merlin," she greeted again, and Merlin felt shock course through him, knowing there was only one person she could be.
As the realisation hit, Merlin felt his magic react too, defensive yet probing, trying to connect with Nimueh's, testing her instinctively. He reeled most of his power back, hoping that she wouldn't notice exactly how much of an influence she had caused over him and his magic. She didn't need to know how much of a potential threat to him she was.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur whispered, leaning across the table. He was trying not to draw attention to them, but failing.
While the staff at the café had been respectful of the prince wanting a bit of privacy, seeing the prince and the best sorceress in Camelot together, along with a completely unknown man, was evidently something of interest. A few of the staff would walk past, trying not to stare too hard at their table and failing miserably, while other patrons were shooting pointed glances, trying to be coy and, again, failing.
"Can I not enjoy lunch with some friends?" Nimueh asked, pseudo-politely, gesturing to one of the passing waiters to take her order. They snapped to attention and there was a tense break in the conversation as Nimueh reeled off her order, turning back to Merlin and Arthur with the same, half-mocking smile on her lips.
"I suppose," Arthur said, "If we were your friends. And considering everything you've done, I really don't think that's going to happen anytime soon."
Merlin shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether he should say anything. Here was the woman he'd been warned about multiple times, yet she was nothing like he'd expected. She was younger, for starters, but seemed far more dangerous that even Ygraine's warnings had prepared him for.
"Perhaps," she commented lightly, "But I'm not too concerned with you."
The waiter returned with her drink - just a glass of water, ice and a straw, simple - and she thanked him, smiling too widely for Merlin's comfort. When the waiter left, she crossed her legs, shifting her weight until Merlin found himself under Nimueh's direct stare.
"I'm more interested in finding out everything there is to know about your friend Merlin here." She was so casual, so relaxed, that, if Merlin didn't know of the terrible things she had done, he would fall under her sway at once.
"Really," he said darkly, not waiting for Arthur to step in. He hadn't stood up for what was right before and it had cost him two of his friends, this time, no matter what, he'd stand up for himself and make his point.
"Really," Nimueh repeated, smiling again, as if Merlin would grow to trust her based on what her lips did.
"Nimueh," Arthur started, voice low and furious, but he was interrupted by their food arriving.
Arthur hadn't been lying when he said this place was different to most restaurants in Camelot. It was a homage, in a way, to the restaurants of the past and it was people, not technology, that carried their food out. It was a refreshing welcome, as well as postponing whatever Nimueh was planning, and Merlin thanked the waiter thoroughly.
They were left a moment later with their food and each other’s company once more, and Nimueh wasted no time in tucking into her food as she spoke.
"I've been watching you for a long time," she began, "Longer than you realise."
Neither Merlin nor Arthur had touched their food yet, but Merlin's stomach growled and he gave in, copying in Nimueh.
"You re-run tests on me when I'd been Picked," Merlin replied simply, taking a bite of his lunch.
"I did," she confirmed, "But do you think that was the first time we took notice of you?" she snorted and Merlin looked at her, frowning.
"After the stunt you pulled, you had half of the sorcerers wanting to bring you into Camelot there and then and the other half scared out of their minds that you were going to bring us crashing down to our knees a moment later." Nimueh took another bite, drawing the tension out for as long as she could.
"What stunt?" Merlin grated out, setting his cutlery on the table. Arthur was still tensed by his side, but he was still there, which was an immense relief.
"Your glowing stunt. Imaginative, sparked a feud as to whether you could really harmonise magic like the Chronicles of Beltane suggested or whether you were fear mongering, just using a spell for the glow." She looked bored, as if this whole conversation was nothing more than commentary on the weather.
"Most of the sorcerers convinced themselves it was fear mongering, but I know your potential. I know who your father was, and I know he'd seen something in the Obsidians." Nimueh placed her fork down, leaning across the table to Merlin. "He told me that someone would come along and they'd destroy everything that I'd built up and save Camelot, all in one stride. But you're just a child," she said, offhandedly. "A powerful child I'll admit, but a child all the same."
Her eyes were piercing as she looked at Merlin. "Which is why I wanted to offer you the chance to join us."
Merlin's eyes widened and he heard the sharp intake of breath from Arthur by his side. Nimueh wasn't done, though, for she added,
"Think of all the things you can learn. Our sorcerers have knowledge even books could not contain, basic and elemental teachings that were passed on through word of mouth only. You'd be a fool to turn that down." She shook her head, as if anyone opposed to her way of thinking would even dare say it to her face.
"We can teach you how to use the Obsidians," she added, looking back at him. "The ultimate testament of power, to control them at your will and have the whole of Camelot in your palm."
For a second, Merlin considered the offer. Not in the way of what Nimueh was saying made any sense, but because he might be able to use the opportunity to his advantage. If he could work from the inside to take down Nimueh…
But no. The notion was scrapped from his mind as Arthur shifted in his seat. He couldn’t leave Arthur like that, not when their plans were beginning to take full form. He was staying with Arthur, even if it meant more hard work in the end.
“That’s not what I want,” Merlin said, looking down to his food. “And besides, you have nothing to offer me that I do not have already.”
That was probably a lie, because he didn’t know everything and even Gaius’ spell book had to have limitations, but Nimueh didn’t need to know that. In fact, Merlin would prefer it if Nimueh thought of him as an already trained sorcerer without, well, the actual trained part.
“I can use the Obsidian,” he said simply. “I began using it without any training at all.”
Nimueh arched an eyebrow. “And you’re certain that you’ve learnt all there is to know?” her voice was taunting, but Merlin didn’t rise for the bait, looking at Arthur instead.
“We’re covered,” he said, drawing a small smile from Arthur. “But thank you.”
Nimueh’s face turned stony and cold as she drew back from the table.
“You’ll regret it,” she said, “Because no matter what you might have been told down in the Wastelands, you’re no hero. You may have power, but you have no idea how to use it.”
She rose from the table, gracefully and not a hint of the spiteful woman Merlin knew her to be. She’d perfected her public persona, never once stepping outside of helpful sorceress who was saving Camelot despite the odds. Looking at her now, Merlin knew they could never work together.
“If you change your mind,” she began, but Merlin just shook his head.
“I’m not going to, no matter what.” Merlin’s voice was firm and he could feel Arthur’s stare boring into him. “No matter what you offer, my place is by Arthur’s side.”
And how true that was, and would remain that way until all of this was over. Past it all, if Merlin had his way, truth be told.
Nimueh gave Merlin a once over, frowning as she pulled her glasses back down, stepping out of the café with grace, as if she hadn’t just been prepared to strike a deal and destroy Merlin and Arthur’s plans against her.
“Camelot’s a strange place,” Merlin muttered, turning to look at Arthur. His eyes were still fixed on the door, but he broke out of the trance and offered Merlin a small smile.
“It probably is for simpletons like you,” he said with no hint of malice, bumping their shoulders together companionably.
They finished their lunch soon after, leaving the café unshaken by Nimueh’s appearance and the fact she’d been tracking Merlin for longer than they’d realised. Even though she knew of Merlin’s power, she hadn’t accepted it and that would work well for their advantage. Merlin wasn’t going to underestimate Nimueh, but it was almost certain that she would be underestimating him.
Although he knew it wasn’t the smart thing to do, with Nimueh having met him already, Merlin wanted to see Morgana and Gwen again. He missed them, even though he had Arthur now, but knew that it was a fruitless wish. Even though Nimueh knew about him, association with Emrys could get Morgana and Gwen hurt. Morgause had been very clear about that and Merlin wasn’t going to hurt his friends on a whim.
“We can walk through the private gardens in the palace,” Arthur offered, breaking into Merlin’s thoughts, almost as if he knew when Merlin needed distracting.
“I thought the queen’s garden was in the Tower itself,” Merlin said, brow furrowing.
“It is,” Arthur nodded. “But these are smaller gardens. More for display than a true purpose, but they’re attractive enough and there’s the added bonus that the plants are real.”
Merlin smiled, eyebrows shooting up in amazement. It didn’t matter what kind of plants they were, Merlin’s repertoire or real-life spottings of plants consisted of gnarled trees in the Wastelands and the scrubby flora back on Ealdor. Neither had been attractive, but if this was a garden designed to be impressive, then Merlin was sure there had to be splashes of colour and fragrant flowers.
The City fell into step around them once more, unaware they had just met with Nimueh and were planning to bring the monarchy to its heels. It was comforting to know that, despite everything, the world was normal, calm and running as per usual.
Together, they walked to the castle, Arthur being sure to take the lesser crowded ways, hiding Merlin from general view. Despite Nimueh being open, Arthur didn't want to take any chance, and Merlin wasn't about to argue with that.
The gardens were on the eastern side of the castle, closeted in their own little biosphere habitats. They were separated with doors, and when the first of the doors opened to one of the rooms, Merlin felt a rush of natural air, far more natural than he'd felt since he first came to Camelot, overwhelm him.
The flowers weren’t extraordinary, muted colours of beiges and pinks, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Merlin left Arthur’s side at once, bending down to see if they were fragrant, and caught a slight wiff of them, delight clear on his face as he turned to face Arthur.
“These are beautiful,” he said, drawing a smile from Arthur. The prince came to stand by Merlin’s side, fingers reaching for one of the stems, when the door leading to another room opened and a man strode in, long, leather coat wrapping around his knees as he walked forwards. He gave a slight start when he noticed Merlin and Arthur, and stopped where he stood, acknowledging Arthur and giving Merlin a dirty look.
“Arthur,” he greeted, voice warm yet far too polite.
“Father,” Arthur replied in the same tone and Merlin’s eyes widened, bowing his head instantly in respect. He wasn’t sure if they still bowed to kings in Camelot, but surely it couldn’t help.
“I thought you were running through the reports on building work in the lower towns? We can’t afford to lose the power supply down there and it’s looking to fail soon.” Again, Uther shot Merlin another cold glare, as if it were his fault Arthur wasn’t doing his task.
In truth, Arthur had completed the plans before they’d set out, over breakfast, saying that they should find a way to fuse the electrical and magical connections together in one channel, rather than the duel-system that ran through the city and try it out there firs if possible. Arthur had paused over his cereal thoughtfully and jotted down some notes, thanking Merlin, but they couldn’t reveal that much to Uther without blowing their much needed cover.
“This is a specialist,” Arthur said, lying through his teeth to his father. “I asked for his help on the project because I wanted to consider merging the two systems into one, both magical and electrical. I believe,” Arthur continued, “that we could benefit greatly from it, having a larger power supply bolstered, plus it would give the advantage of reinforcing-“
“Enough,” Uther interrupted, raising a hand. He sighed wearily, “We’ve had this conversation before Arthur, we don’t have the magic to merge the two systems. It’s never been done before, only hypothesised, and even the greatest sorcerers have never been able to complete the task.”
His eyes strayed to Merlin once more. “No matter what kind of specialist,” he said, with heavy emphasis on the word ‘specialist’, “You have at your disposal, it won’t be enough. I expect your proper report in a few days’ time,” Uther finished, sidestepping around them, making it clear his point was absolute and there was nothing they could do to change that.
Merlin took a moment to look at Arthur, noticing that his shoulders were slightly slumped. How many times had Uther shot down his son’s ideas, not even willing to discuss possibilities. Did the king even know the intelligence his son possessed, that he was the one who would be able to find a way without magic to make the pathways connect? It wouldn’t be easy - so it was a good thing they did have Merlin and his magic - but Merlin had full confidence that Arthur would find a way around that.
“I’ve never seen a flower like this,” Merlin said instead, catching Arthur’s hand with his own and pulling him back to the pale pink blooms. “Everything in Ealdor was hardy and practical, while in the druid land, it was boggy and suited to the marsh.”
Arthur caught his gaze for a moment, sending a spark of heat through Merlin, before he separated their fingers and reached again for the flower. He snapped the stem, offering the flower to Merlin.
“Not everyone gets to just snap off flowers from the garden,” Arthur commented dryly, still waiting for the flower to change hands. “We can press it when we get home if you like, or you can wait until it dies and I can pick you a new one.”
It was a simple, stupid gesture, but Merlin couldn’t think of anything nicer Arthur could have offered. Without really thinking, he threw his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling the man into a hug before hurriedly letting go again. It was the most contact they’d had since the night at the Isle, and Merlin felt suddenly hyper aware of Arthur, his magic wanting to feel their connection again, deeper than what they had at the moment.
The flower passed from Arthur to Merlin, and he cradled it gently at first, afraid it would fall apart. When Merlin was sure the petals weren’t about to crumble, he took it firmly by the stem, not in the least slighted by the fact it was a flower.
“Thank you,” Merlin said a moment later, and Arthur nodded, leading them from the gardens and the palace, back to the house.
That night, Merlin lay on his back on the sofa, eyes closed yet far from sleep. He could hear Arthur in the other room, every breath he took as the door was wide open, and though they were mere metres apart, Merlin felt as though they’d never been further, even with their pasts and a whole Ocean that had been between them.
He didn’t understand Arthur Pendragon. Yes, they were comrades, two people taking on an almighty task to overthrow a corrupt monarchy, but they were also friends. Or at least Merlin thought so, though he knew his magic would be more than content with something more. Merlin himself too would be happier if he could touch Arthur again, lay beside him in a bed and not out here on the sofa, but that was a hopeless thought.
One drunken mistake and his magic was convinced Arthur and he belonged together. One drunken mistake and Merlin wondered what more would be like, craved more when there was nothing else to think about under the cover of night.
Merlin ran a hand over the two items laid on his chest, the Obsidian and the flower Arthur had given him. They’d press it between the pages of the Chronicles of Beltane tomorrow, but Merlin wanted to keep it with him for now, enjoying the lingering scent of the petals and remembering the innocent and vulnerable expression that had crossed Arthur’s face when he’d presented the flower.
He shuffled a little, pressing his head back into the cushions underneath and gave a small sigh, wondering what they would do next. There was so much to do, lest of all think about the relationship between them, no matter how much Merlin wanted to pay attention to it.
Perhaps when everything was done, Nimueh vanquished and Arthur taking control of his kingdom, Merlin could think about what he wanted. When he had his mother, Gaius and Mordred back and had divulged the truth about Ygraine to Arthur.
There was guilt in knowing that he still hadn’t told Arthur about his mother, but compared to everything else, it weighed little around Merlin’s neck. He sniffed, soaking in the flower’s scent, before he let his hand fall from his side and he finally succumbed to slumber.
.
| Part Thirteen|
Everything had changed for them now, what with Morgause being part of their group, though not properly involved. They now could move around without hurting other people and they had the advantage of finding out more about Nimueh and what she was doing.
Morgana and Gwen had said they’d try to find out what they could, but Merlin didn’t hold much hope that they’d be able to find out much, let alone something important. Arthur had only discovered a partial truth and that had been because he was the prince, able to access all areas freely. Besides, he had accidentally stumbled upon it and Merlin doubted that Nimueh discussed private matters at the time of day that Morgana and Gwen would be there, considering they didn’t live at the castle and spent as little time there as possible.
The journey back to Gwen and Morgana’s was slow, with the bustling, busy people shoving and pushing at Merlin as he walked down the pavement, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.
He still had a lot to tell Arthur. Merlin hadn’t fully explained about the magic and Pickings, and while Morgause would understand how it was done, Arthur wouldn’t. And there was still the matter of Ygraine to disclose, but Merlin didn’t know how to approach the subject.
It was clear that Arthur wasn’t his father’s man, but that didn’t matter when he’d spent his whole life raised by the man and dictated by him. Arthur still loved his father, still respected him on most levels and still saw him as his king. Merlin knew that from spending just two days in his company.
Everything was a mess and Merlin was right in the centre of it all. There was too much in his head, too much crammed into a tiny space, and he knew that he had to get it all out soon or he’d drive himself to insanity with the weight of it all.
Morgana and Gwen were home when Merlin entered, and Morgana fixed him with a stern look.
“You were supposed to be home,” she said, remarkably like Morgause. Merlin was tired of it all though, having to conceal the truth from so many people and bargain with others. He shook his head and said, “I just wanted some fresh air,” and walking to his room.
He barely got through his doorway when he heard Gwen chiding Morgana, and he couldn’t help but smile. After changing into comfier clothes, he re-joined the girls and took a plate of offered food, following them into the sitting room and hunkering down on the sofa.
“We didn’t find anything,” Gwen said, after the silence became too heavy to be comfortable any longer. Morgana sniffed on the other side of the sofa, pointedly ignoring Merlin as he grimaced.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, taking a mouthful of dinner and plastering a smile on his face as he chewed. “Why don’t we just enjoy the evening? Tomorrow I promise I’ll tell you everything… I won’t even take a walk or whatever.”
Gwen’s face instantly brightened and Merlin looked at Morgana, keeping his smile and keeping his face placid, hoping that she’d buy it too. She scrutinised him for a moment before she nodded, satisfied with Merlin’s idea.
“Fine, but I expect you to tell us the whole truth tomorrow.” She smiled, mood lifting. “We did have quite a hard day,” she admitted, rolling her eyes at Gwen. “Arthur’s been slacking recently and it’s sent Uther into a rage. I mean, I know he’s the prince and thinks he’s the best in the world, but he didn’t even give an excuse as to why he skipped out on his duties today.”
Morgana shook her head. “Always was an arrogant prat,” she mumbled and Gwen sighed, setting her fork on the side of her plate.
“Not this again. Seriously, whenever you’re not at each other’s throats, you’re calling names behind each other’s backs. It’s juvenile, really,” Gwen chided, looking to Merlin as if seeking support.
“Um, sure,” he said. “Though I don’t know Arthur,” he added, hoping to turn the conversation to their tryst and exploit the embarrassment, distancing himself from Arthur for possible places he’d gone to hide when he left the next day.
Morgana took the bait, grinning widely like the cat that’d got the cream.
“I’m sure you know Arthur better than either of us,” she said, smirking. “Don’t try and deny it, though I love how pink he gets,” she added, turning to Gwen.
Gwen, who was supposed to be the kind one and defender of Merlin, laughed. “Oh come on, leave him alone. He gets embarrassed enough as it is, imagine if he actually saw Arthur again?”
Thank you, Merlin thought.
“That’s true. I think sirens would erupt if Merlin ever saw him again.” Morgana’s smile turned kinder as she looked back at Merlin. “We’re only teasing you,” she said, patting his leg.
They spent the rest of the evening watching films on TV, of complex action scenes and story plots that Merlin couldn’t quite grasp, not having grown up in a Sky City. Morgana and Gwen tried their best to explain, but there were only so many questions that you could ask before people got annoyed and told you to shut up and watch the film.
They went to bed late, Merlin savouring every moment he could, knowing that everything would change in the morning, even if Gwen and Morgana didn’t sense it over breakfast. He packed the few belongings he had into a rucksack that had been in the corner of the room, making sure he had the clothes Morgana had given him as well as the shirts he’d taken from Arthur. He kept one out to wear the next day, somehow wanting the tiny connection to Arthur to make sure he went through with leaving.
As he lay back in bed that night, Merlin wondered, for the first time in ages, about the future. Tomorrow night he’d be at Arthur’s, probably on the sofa, and they’d be a step closer to fulfilling an age-old prophecy. One more step closer to defying everything Camelot had been built upon and closer to Merlin discovering what the choice he’d have to make was.
It didn’t scare him, or at least not yet, because he had no idea what it involved. There was so much more to get through before all of that, that Merlin couldn’t worry about a choice that was in the future. He had to worry about Morgana and Gwen, hope that Morgause would keep Nimueh’s attention away from them and hope that he and Arthur could find a way to help everyone who was suffering.
He fell asleep shortly after that, gripping one of Arthur’s shirts in his hand.
.
By the time Merlin woke up, Gwen and Morgana had already gone. There was a note left on the kitchen counter - flashing on the work surface, a far cry from a pen and paper message Merlin would have expected - that said they’d see him later, when they’d all talk.
He felt guilty for leaving, but Merlin couldn’t afford to stay. Besides, now that they had struck a bargain with Morgause, Merlin couldn’t double back on his side of the argument. He had to move forwards now, move forwards and step next to Arthur, where they could change the world for the better.
He slunk from the house with a single rucksack, feeling like a thief. It was relatively early in the morning and the crowds throughout Camelot were thinner than usual, most of the public plugged into their offices and work stations, racking up points for the stock market and keeping the City ticking over.
When he arrived at Arthur’s, Merlin entered the code for the door and slid in, sighing in relief he hadn’t known he’d been craving as the door slid shut behind him. Since learning that Nimueh knew about him, Merlin felt slightly nervous in the open, preferring company to hide behind, should it come to that.
And, for some reason, being in Arthur’s house felt right. Merlin felt as though he belonged there, as if their purpose was being met simply by living in the same house.
He dumped his bag off at the end of the sofa, walking to Arthur’s bedroom where the books were kept, stacked on a wall-long shelf. For someone who had never seen so many books, it was amazing to see them all neatly lines up, in pristine condition and undamaged by the elements.
Merlin walked around the large bed, plain white sheets, boring and opposite to Arthur’s nature, and rested the tips of his fingers on the bedside table, planted between the shelf and the bed, balancing slightly as his eyes skimmed over titles. He looked up and down, occasionally plucking a book from its spot to place it on the bed, before doing another scan of the shelves and selecting a few more volumes.
With his stack of treasure, Merlin walked back to the living room, placing his pile on the table and lying stomach-down on the cushions to start reading.
The first book he’d picked was a history of the royal family, from the time of the Great Flood to present day. Merlin flicked through the pages, skimming information about Arthur’s ancestors, stopping at the page for the current king and frowning as the book detailed his life and achievements.
While it was true that Uther had revolutionised the production of electricity, installing solar technology and planting wind farms on the tips of the towers, he’d most likely only done that because it was the last option left. No one else had taken those measures, but that was because the imbalance between magic and the New World hadn’t been so prevalent.
There was a picture of a young, smiling woman on one of the pages and Merlin traced his finger over the page, smiling at how free and beautiful Ygraine looked.
“Childhood friend of Uther, the woman who would grow up to become the beloved Queen Ygraine,” Merlin read, shaking his head slightly as he thought of the lonely woman miles and miles below him. Where was she in this woman’s future?
The book gave a brief overview of her supposed death, a paragraph that explained she became ill months after her son was born, a complication from the birth ruled as the major cause of death. People had mourned, Uther was wracked with grief, but he bravely pulled onwards, pushing everything into saving Camelot.
There was a tiny picture of Arthur, just a small child, but he had the same, lost look on his face. Merlin’s heart twinged at the sight of the lost little boy, a scruffy horse doll clenched in one of his hands and a loneliness far beyond his years evident in his eyes, even through the paper of the photograph.
“Oh Arthur,” Merlin said softly. In all of his books, all of the fairy tales and games he’d played back on Ealdor, the prince had been a treasured character. The prince had been the happiest, bravest character, the one whom everyone loved and always, always had the happy ending.
But being a real prince wasn’t anything like the games or the stories. Arthur had suffered at his father’s hand, from never having enough friends or attention, instead striving to be the perfect model of an adult that his father had wanted, but a child should never be. It was no doubt that Arthur didn’t have anyone close; Merlin had read enough from the book to see Uther was a man who preferred his distance. Arthur would have copied that, learnt from it, and it had destroyed his blooming relationships with children of his own age.
Merlin placed the book back on the table, rolling onto his side as he picked another one up, tracing the cover lazily and whispering the title.
“Mykonos,” he said, the words coloured gold and sweeping over the cover.
It was a story, Merlin realised, as he flipped the page over and looked through names of people and places, of gods and monsters and epic battles fought and lost. There were so few stories left in the New World - and Merlin should know that as he’d asked Gwen and Morgana once, but Morgana had rolled her eyes saying that the only stories were the tales Uther told to appease the Court - that Merlin knew this was a rare treasure.
The pages were dog-eared and a few still folded slightly. It was clearly a favourite of Arthur’s, and Merlin held the little book tightly, skimming through the backstory of gods and their eternal struggles.
When he was done, Merlin lay back on the sofa, the book resting on his chest, heart beating heavily in his chest, not quite knowing why it struck him so deeply.
The story had been between gods and titans, forces of nature itself, and staged upon the titular island of Mykonos. The struggle had been a choice between family, of revenge and cruelty, of nature and its whims. It was completely different to Merlin and Arthur’s fate, yet so eerily similar at the same time.
Arthur would have to fight his family. There was no maybes or ifs, he would have to do it now that he’d aligned himself with Merlin. Merlin had already battled the elements and found that he could tame them, chain them to his will and force them to let him pass where all else would have failed. They echoed the gods of the story in a horrific manner, one that Merlin never would have wanted to admit.
The story wasn’t beautiful, unlike the stories of his childhood. Those stories had been built upon ‘once upon a times’ and ‘happily ever afters’. The struggle Mykonos had placed wasn’t one that was over, and had shadowed consequences later. This would be true for their battle and Camelot. Whatever happened, whether they succeeded or failed, Camelot would never be the same after.
Merlin let the book rest on the sofa and he buried his face in his hands. It seemed as though the whole thing would never be over, even before they’d properly started. The world crashed down on all of them and yet there was nothing Merlin could do, yet anyway.
The principles were simple. Free the people taken during Pickings, use magic to repair and meld the electrical-magical systems and open the gates for those who needed a home.
Of course, those were just the principles. How they could free the people, Merlin did not know, and he hadn’t even covered the subject of fortifying the City. He was powerful, yes, but he didn’t have enough magic to covert the whole of Camelot, Merlin knew, could feel that fact in his chest.
He threw the book on the table, small and thin compared to the other volumes Merlin had brought out. It truly was a pathetic object in comparison, but the word had struck him deeply in ways that the other books wouldn’t. if there were such things as prophecies and oracles, this book - read so many times by Arthur and singled out by Merlin - could have a bigger meaning, foreshadowing their own battles perhaps.
In the end, the gods won against the forces of nature. If it foreshadowed their fight, Merlin realised that he would have to choose between the gods - Arthur, so, very clearly it had to be Arthur - and the titans, the magic and nature he had always had by his side. It was the choice, Merlin understood, that he’d have to make, the choice that could either save the world or throw it into further chaos.
Still, that time was not now, and Merlin pushed himself up off of the sofa and walked into the kitchen. Since the last time he’d been there, Arthur had restocked his cupboards with proper food, so Merlin made himself a plain sandwich, something New World-y, but tasted like chicken, and returned to the sofa, switching on the TV and submerging himself in bland, monotonous shows.
When Arthur returned home, it had passed midday and was creeping onto early evening. He looked tired and stopped when he entered the lounge, looking at Merlin in slight surprise, before his wits caught up with him and he nodded, smiling a little too stiffly for it to be real.
“You managed to get away then,” he commented lightly, moving into his bedroom. The door half-closed and Merlin heard the tell-tale rustlings of someone changing, so politely kept his gaze fixed on the television and not, not, letting his eyes drift to the door of the bedroom in hope.
“It was surprisingly easy,” Merlin said as Arthur reappeared, hair dishevelled and dressed in plain clothes. “For all they went on about it, I was half-convinced they’d shackle me to a table or something.”
It was intended as a joke, and Merlin smiled weakly, but the words didn’t quite reach their potential, the pair of them too caught up in the seriousness of it all.
Arthur joined him on the sofa, side-eyeing the books Merlin had been flicking through.
“My family history?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why Merlin,” he said, with faux-surprise “I didn’t know you cared.”
Merlin grunted, a small smile slipping onto his face. “I like to do my research before shacking up with a stranger,” he replied as Arthur slung an arm across the back of the sofa cushions. “You know, in case they turn out to be a psycho with hidden agendas and all.”
“Hidden agendas,” Arthur deadpanned, before he gave a shark bark of laughter, shaking his head. “You’re one of a kind,” he said a moment later, looking at Merlin as if he was something more, something greater.
Shrugging the compliment off, Merlin shifted in his seat, turning so he could see Arthur a little better, the conversation drawing down to business again.
“Yesterday I mentioned the Stones and the Pickings,” he began, looking at Arthur to see if he was following what he was saying. Comprehension was clear in his eyes, so Merlin continued.
“I’m going to explain it properly, so you can understand why it’s so terrible,” Merlin said.
“I know why it’s terrible,” Arthur shot back, frowning slightly. Merlin nodded, but didn’t back down.
“You do,” he agreed, “But you have to understand, not just know. The only way that you can help them is if you know exactly what they’re going through, and so I have to tell you every detail.”
Arthur looked as if he was about to disagree, then thought better of it, simply nodding and waiting for Merlin to continue.
“I’m different to every other sorcerer there is,” Merlin began with a wry smile, “But even so, I know what magic is like, what it feels like.”
“What does it feel like?” Arthur interrupted quietly, glancing at Merlin.
“It’s…” Merlin started, then realised he couldn’t quite explain it. “I can’t explain,” he admitted, and Arthur’s face visibly fell.
“But,” he hurried on, “I think I can show you what it feels like, if you want.”
Arthur’s eyes were wide and clear blue as he looked at Merlin in surprise.
“Show me?” he parroted dumbly. Merlin nodded.
“Here, give me your hand,” and Arthur gave him his hand, their palms slipping together with ease.
Merlin took the hand, pressing it palm-first to his chest, exactly in the centre where he felt the ball of magic coil warmly. He didn’t even have to think for his magic to react, the ball bubbling happily at the contact, surging up to meet Arthur.
At this proximity, Merlin could feel the latent magic inside of Arthur. It was the magic that had helped to create him, still there in his veins, almost completely dormant yet unsullied. It gave a slight twitch of interest as Merlin’s own magic flowed into Arthur, but accepted the foreign power with ease, letting it pass into Arthur and fill him up.
“How does that feel?” Merlin asked, the connection between them stronger than it had ever been.
“It’s…” Arthur said, mirroring Merlin’s earlier words with awe in his voice. “Unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”
They remained like that, connected deeper than touch would ever let them, for a few minutes more. In those minutes, Merlin felt the lethargic swirl of Arthur’s magic as it moved through him, curiously yet sluggish. It felt different to his own magic, but just as wonderful, with just as much potential and something that could only be described as Arthur contained in it.
But, as with so any things, the connection had to end, and their magic separated reluctantly as Arthur removed his hand from Merlin, and Merlin pulled his magic back into the ball in his chest. It had been an experience, but it couldn’t last.
“The people you call sorcerers have enough magic to get by and use themselves, even if they can’t do much with it,” Merlin said calmly. “The people they take for the Pickings have only a fraction of the magic the sorcerers have and almost all of them have no idea it’s there at all.”
“So they can’t use it,” Arthur said slowly, “Can’t feel it?”
Merlin shook his head. “They’re taken from their families, made unconscious where they remain for the rest of their lives.” He looked down, sickened by the thought of how many people he’d had to leave behind even though he’d been so close, so near to them.
Arthur was silent for a moment, considering his words. “How can it be taken from them then?” It wasn’t said accusingly, just curiously, as Arthur openly admitted that he didn’t understand and wanted to know everything he could.
“The Stone Circle is the sorcerer’s main channel of power. It’s connected to everything; the earth, the City, the people even.” Merlin sighed lightly, “The sorcerers twist the Circle, warp its power and channel it into the cubicles the refugees are lying in. They chained it to the dragon’s magic, the Great Dragon, down in the very earth itself, so that the magic passes through and pulls any trace of magic out, no matter how deep down or small it is.”
That was Merlin’s understanding of how it worked. It wasn’t fully comprehensive, due to the fact that he had never seen the Circle or felt the connections when he’d been down in the cubicle, but it was what made sense from everything he’d been told and seen so far.
“They have to renew the spells more often now,” Merlin continued, voice quiet. “The magic is wearing off and dying, but it’s not because it’s being eradicated.”
“You said magic wanted to be used,” Arthur said, looking at Merlin. “But if it wants to be used, then why are their spells ineffective?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted freely. “But I think it’s because what they’ve done is twisted. Nimueh is messing with a Circle that has survived for centuries and will keep on surviving long after we’re all gone. She’s playing with the elements of the earth and hasn’t bothered to make sure that they were compatible.”
He paused, trying to think of a clearer explanation. “It’s like oil and water,” he began, thinking of the large pools of oil that had often floated on the waters around Ealdor. “Magic and electricity can’t mix together in the way that Nimueh and the other sorcerers want. I’ve felt it, there are two pathways that will never be able to merge and it’s slowly destroying the City.”
Merlin ran a hand through his hair, shifting in his seat until his feet were resting on the floor and his forearms rested on his thighs. His head was downcast, shoulders heavy with expectation and doing what was right.
“From the beginning, magic was used to build the Tower. Everyone knows that,” he said, and Arthur gave a light grunt in agreement. “But that magic is fading, has faded, because it’s not connected to the earth and can’t connect to the natural magic all around us.”
He stopped, shaking his head slightly, trying to un-jumble all the injustices and the wrongs that their ancestors had begun.
“And that’s why they steal the magic,” Arthur said, though it wasn’t a question, but a fact.
Merlin nodded.
“But if that’s the case,” Arthur murmured, voice low, “Then what can we do to stop it? The magic won’t just connect; they would have tried that before going to the trouble to warp the Stones, surely?”
Shrugging, Merlin replied, “I don’t know what they did. All I know is that magic and electricity can be made compatible, and through that I’m sure the Tower can be reinforced. With the right conduit and the right amount of power, it can be linked back down to the earth and use that as a natural resource.”
He hadn’t said it, but Merlin knew that Arthur understood what he was saying. It would be possible, because Merlin would do it. He had done it, on a much smaller degree and only as a test, but it was proof that it could be done. Magic and the New World could merge together, and Merlin would be the one to do it.
“So you can do it?” Arthur asked, focusing solely on Merlin. “You can save them all?”
“It’s what I was prophesised to do,” he said, with a lilt of sarcasm. “And it’s what I crossed the Ocean for. I have to at least try,” he continued, looking at Arthur with bright eyes. “They have my mother down there, and my friends.”
“Gaius too,” Arthur said, having picked that up from the conversation with Morgause, and Merlin nodded sadly.
“It’s the only way we can make Camelot safe for all of those people on the ground. When the Tower is reinforced, we can build again, make it bigger for all of those who need a home.” Merlin’s voice was hopeful, almost pleading for Arthur to accept it and agree. After all, he couldn’t do this without Arthur, just as Arthur couldn’t do without Merlin.
“So what do we do now?” Merlin asked a moment later, when Arthur hadn’t replied. Arthur was frowning, jaw clenched and hands mashed together, knuckles white.
“You said that we need to find a way to merge the pathways, combine the magic and electricity rather than force them to work together?” Arthur asked quietly, gaze sliding over Merlin.
“It’s the only way I can think of that we can save the Tower,” Merlin replied. “If enough magic was poured into the channels that run throughout the City, I believe you can root the Tower to the ground and to the natural magic in the earth.”
Arthur looked amazed at the prospect, and Merlin smiled slightly, glad he understood where Merlin was going. If they could root the Tower to the ancient magic in the earth, there wouldn’t be a need to renew spells, no need to keep thousands of people locked up as slaves and no need to worry about stealing their magic. The energy from the earth would flow through the Tower, powering the structure and reinforcing it.
Merlin knew that sorcerers would still be needed to check that the sources were flowing correctly, but it meant that magic wasted in trapping children and sucking their souls could be sent on building Camelot, opening the doors to those camped on the ground. And if Camelot ran out of space, who was to say that the support towers couldn’t be changed, smaller Cities being built on the tops of them, all interlinking to Camelot.
Both Merlin and Arthur could envision this new City, and they drew into thicker discussion, time passing quietly outside as they smiled and gestured along with their ideas, planning a better, greater world than the one they lived in right now.
It wasn’t until Arthur pulled back from where they’d navigated together, legs pressed together and heads bent low, checking the clock and making a small sound of surprise.
“Wow,” he said, and Merlin followed his gaze to the clock on the wall, eyebrows arching as he noticed how late it was.
Dinner was a quiet affair, almost hurried, and after that came Arthur’s simple announcement he was going to bed. For a moment, he stood between where Merlin sat on the sofa and the kitchen, looking to his bedroom door and then the sofa, looking for all the world that he’d invite Merlin in. A second later, though, he shook his head and looked down, saying that he’d fetch some blankets and a pillow.
Disappointment rose up in Merlin, even though he knew that they shouldn’t do anything. They’d already done too much, and that had been under the influence of alcohol. They were friend, allies, and nothing more, no matter what his magic may want.
Arthur returned a moment later with, true to his word, a set of blankets and a pillow. He shifted his weight on his feet, handing the materials to Merlin without a word.
“Well,” Merlin began, desperately reaching for the companionable atmosphere that had clouded them before this. “Good night then.”
Nothing more was said as Arthur walked into his room, closing the door soundly behind himself. Merlin set the blankets on the sofa and plumped up the pillow, trying and failing not to think about Arthur.
The problem was, Merlin couldn’t quite remember what it had been like to be with Arthur. He could remember snatches - the darkness of the night as they’d stumbled, the warmth of Arthur’s breath against his throat and the frantic rush they’d been in - but it wasn’t enough. Now that he had to be here with Arthur, and only Arthur now, Merlin couldn’t help but want more.
It certainly didn’t help that his magic felt as though it deserved more, wanting to curl against Arthur and seep into him, relax him and soothe away his worries. Merlin couldn’t let it though, because if he let his magic slip through just once, it would never be enough.
Merlin sighed and rolled over, tucking an arm under his head. He wasn’t sure why, but there was something about Arthur that he needed. His magic could sense that and it was only common sense holding Merlin back. He could remember what Morgana and Gwen had said about Arthur not having taken anyone home for a while and knew that his magic had swayed the prince. It hadn’t forced him, but it had interested Arthur beyond what he would normally feel, and that made Merlin dangerous, to an extent.
He needed to focus on Aglain’s teachings to control his magic, rather than rely on Arthur and what his magic wanted. And then, perhaps when all this was over…
Merlin felt the Obsidian against his heart and closed his eyes, slipping easily into sleep for the first time in a long while, content that he was striding towards his destiny.
.
It was three days before Merlin finally snapped. It was morning and Arthur was pouring over some papers his father had left for him, something about power shortages in part of the City, and Merlin had just finished the bland food that was his usual breakfast now.
“I need to get out of here,” he said, pacing in the space between lounge and kitchen.
Arthur paused in his reading, looking up at Merlin with his hair tousled and eyes narrowed slightly from waking up not too long ago.
“Out?” he asked, “even with what Morgause said about Nimueh?”
Morgause had dutifully been in contact, through an alias of course, and informed them that Nimueh’s behaviour of late had been erratic and unpredictable. She’d pressed them to be cautious, warning them multiple times of the risk they would be taking if they left their security, and Merlin bit his lip, considering the pros and cons.
“I know it might be dangerous,” he began, and Arthur raised an eyebrow, reaching for his coffee and taking a sip. “But I’m going to go crazy if I have to stay here much longer. Do you know how boring television is in the day? I don’t think I can take anymore stock exchange reports or how to enhance your looks with cosmetic surgery.”
Arthur gave a huff of laughter before he drew back to seriousness, noting the annoyance Merlin had to be projecting by now.
“I have to review these this morning, so maybe you can help,” he began and Merlin frowned, it not quite being the answer he’d expected. “But how about we do lunch or something? I’d rather stick together if you want to go out. Nimueh will be risking treason if she wanted to do something to me, but you’re unknown.”
Merlin nodded a little shakily, knowing it was the truth. Though he should feel a little sad he couldn’t be alone - he was an Islander, one who had enjoyed walking the rugged beaches when he could - Merlin wanted to be with Arthur, and so the reply was easy.
“Lunch it is then,” he said with a smile.
They poured over the reports and Arthur jotted down some ideas for his father down. When the time came to leave the house, they slipped through Arthur’s section of the City and hit the main streets, merging in with everyday life.
The weather in Camelot was good that morning, artificial sky bright and sunny. Merlin missed the open skies and winds, yes, but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the lumen-sun. It was just as warm as any real sun and there was also comfort in knowing that, unlike the true elements, he was safe under its rays. It wasn’t real, as with so much of this City, and it was one less thing to worry about going wrong.
“Here,” Arthur said, interrupting Merlin’s thoughts as they paused on the pavement. Sunlight caught Arthur’s hair, and Merlin offered a small smile, probably a bit too wide and a bit too stupid, but Arthur smiled back and that was what mattered.
“It’s not the traditional restaurant you’ll fine in the City,” he added, opening the door and letting Merlin pass through into the comfortable bubble of a busy restaurant. “But it’s a favourite of mine. The food’s good and so’s the service.”
It was a nice restaurant, and as the staff recognised who Arthur was - being prince did have some benefits after all - they were ushered to a private table, right in the heart of the restaurant. Service came at once, menus presented in pomp and drinks ordered without any fuss. While Merlin hadn’t been to any restaurant aside from the Restaurant where he’d met Gwen, he could tell that this wasn’t the usual experience for average subjects in Camelot.
They chose their lunches, Arthur often explaining what the meals were to Merlin, and ordered easily. Just when everything was going well, Merlin relaxing into the afternoon and narrowing his world down to Arthur (without the saving-the-world issues), a woman walked by and Arthur stiffened at once.
She turned on her heel, wearing sunglasses and a hat that covered a large portion of her face, but it did nothing to hide the wide smile across her face.
The woman sat down at the table, tipping the unnecessary glasses up onto the crown of her head, smirking at Merlin before she turned her attention to Arthur. Beside him, Merlin felt Arthur tense, and he wondered who the woman was.
"Arthur," she greeted casually, before her eyes flicked to Merlin. "Merlin," she greeted again, and Merlin felt shock course through him, knowing there was only one person she could be.
As the realisation hit, Merlin felt his magic react too, defensive yet probing, trying to connect with Nimueh's, testing her instinctively. He reeled most of his power back, hoping that she wouldn't notice exactly how much of an influence she had caused over him and his magic. She didn't need to know how much of a potential threat to him she was.
"What are you doing here?" Arthur whispered, leaning across the table. He was trying not to draw attention to them, but failing.
While the staff at the café had been respectful of the prince wanting a bit of privacy, seeing the prince and the best sorceress in Camelot together, along with a completely unknown man, was evidently something of interest. A few of the staff would walk past, trying not to stare too hard at their table and failing miserably, while other patrons were shooting pointed glances, trying to be coy and, again, failing.
"Can I not enjoy lunch with some friends?" Nimueh asked, pseudo-politely, gesturing to one of the passing waiters to take her order. They snapped to attention and there was a tense break in the conversation as Nimueh reeled off her order, turning back to Merlin and Arthur with the same, half-mocking smile on her lips.
"I suppose," Arthur said, "If we were your friends. And considering everything you've done, I really don't think that's going to happen anytime soon."
Merlin shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether he should say anything. Here was the woman he'd been warned about multiple times, yet she was nothing like he'd expected. She was younger, for starters, but seemed far more dangerous that even Ygraine's warnings had prepared him for.
"Perhaps," she commented lightly, "But I'm not too concerned with you."
The waiter returned with her drink - just a glass of water, ice and a straw, simple - and she thanked him, smiling too widely for Merlin's comfort. When the waiter left, she crossed her legs, shifting her weight until Merlin found himself under Nimueh's direct stare.
"I'm more interested in finding out everything there is to know about your friend Merlin here." She was so casual, so relaxed, that, if Merlin didn't know of the terrible things she had done, he would fall under her sway at once.
"Really," he said darkly, not waiting for Arthur to step in. He hadn't stood up for what was right before and it had cost him two of his friends, this time, no matter what, he'd stand up for himself and make his point.
"Really," Nimueh repeated, smiling again, as if Merlin would grow to trust her based on what her lips did.
"Nimueh," Arthur started, voice low and furious, but he was interrupted by their food arriving.
Arthur hadn't been lying when he said this place was different to most restaurants in Camelot. It was a homage, in a way, to the restaurants of the past and it was people, not technology, that carried their food out. It was a refreshing welcome, as well as postponing whatever Nimueh was planning, and Merlin thanked the waiter thoroughly.
They were left a moment later with their food and each other’s company once more, and Nimueh wasted no time in tucking into her food as she spoke.
"I've been watching you for a long time," she began, "Longer than you realise."
Neither Merlin nor Arthur had touched their food yet, but Merlin's stomach growled and he gave in, copying in Nimueh.
"You re-run tests on me when I'd been Picked," Merlin replied simply, taking a bite of his lunch.
"I did," she confirmed, "But do you think that was the first time we took notice of you?" she snorted and Merlin looked at her, frowning.
"After the stunt you pulled, you had half of the sorcerers wanting to bring you into Camelot there and then and the other half scared out of their minds that you were going to bring us crashing down to our knees a moment later." Nimueh took another bite, drawing the tension out for as long as she could.
"What stunt?" Merlin grated out, setting his cutlery on the table. Arthur was still tensed by his side, but he was still there, which was an immense relief.
"Your glowing stunt. Imaginative, sparked a feud as to whether you could really harmonise magic like the Chronicles of Beltane suggested or whether you were fear mongering, just using a spell for the glow." She looked bored, as if this whole conversation was nothing more than commentary on the weather.
"Most of the sorcerers convinced themselves it was fear mongering, but I know your potential. I know who your father was, and I know he'd seen something in the Obsidians." Nimueh placed her fork down, leaning across the table to Merlin. "He told me that someone would come along and they'd destroy everything that I'd built up and save Camelot, all in one stride. But you're just a child," she said, offhandedly. "A powerful child I'll admit, but a child all the same."
Her eyes were piercing as she looked at Merlin. "Which is why I wanted to offer you the chance to join us."
Merlin's eyes widened and he heard the sharp intake of breath from Arthur by his side. Nimueh wasn't done, though, for she added,
"Think of all the things you can learn. Our sorcerers have knowledge even books could not contain, basic and elemental teachings that were passed on through word of mouth only. You'd be a fool to turn that down." She shook her head, as if anyone opposed to her way of thinking would even dare say it to her face.
"We can teach you how to use the Obsidians," she added, looking back at him. "The ultimate testament of power, to control them at your will and have the whole of Camelot in your palm."
For a second, Merlin considered the offer. Not in the way of what Nimueh was saying made any sense, but because he might be able to use the opportunity to his advantage. If he could work from the inside to take down Nimueh…
But no. The notion was scrapped from his mind as Arthur shifted in his seat. He couldn’t leave Arthur like that, not when their plans were beginning to take full form. He was staying with Arthur, even if it meant more hard work in the end.
“That’s not what I want,” Merlin said, looking down to his food. “And besides, you have nothing to offer me that I do not have already.”
That was probably a lie, because he didn’t know everything and even Gaius’ spell book had to have limitations, but Nimueh didn’t need to know that. In fact, Merlin would prefer it if Nimueh thought of him as an already trained sorcerer without, well, the actual trained part.
“I can use the Obsidian,” he said simply. “I began using it without any training at all.”
Nimueh arched an eyebrow. “And you’re certain that you’ve learnt all there is to know?” her voice was taunting, but Merlin didn’t rise for the bait, looking at Arthur instead.
“We’re covered,” he said, drawing a small smile from Arthur. “But thank you.”
Nimueh’s face turned stony and cold as she drew back from the table.
“You’ll regret it,” she said, “Because no matter what you might have been told down in the Wastelands, you’re no hero. You may have power, but you have no idea how to use it.”
She rose from the table, gracefully and not a hint of the spiteful woman Merlin knew her to be. She’d perfected her public persona, never once stepping outside of helpful sorceress who was saving Camelot despite the odds. Looking at her now, Merlin knew they could never work together.
“If you change your mind,” she began, but Merlin just shook his head.
“I’m not going to, no matter what.” Merlin’s voice was firm and he could feel Arthur’s stare boring into him. “No matter what you offer, my place is by Arthur’s side.”
And how true that was, and would remain that way until all of this was over. Past it all, if Merlin had his way, truth be told.
Nimueh gave Merlin a once over, frowning as she pulled her glasses back down, stepping out of the café with grace, as if she hadn’t just been prepared to strike a deal and destroy Merlin and Arthur’s plans against her.
“Camelot’s a strange place,” Merlin muttered, turning to look at Arthur. His eyes were still fixed on the door, but he broke out of the trance and offered Merlin a small smile.
“It probably is for simpletons like you,” he said with no hint of malice, bumping their shoulders together companionably.
They finished their lunch soon after, leaving the café unshaken by Nimueh’s appearance and the fact she’d been tracking Merlin for longer than they’d realised. Even though she knew of Merlin’s power, she hadn’t accepted it and that would work well for their advantage. Merlin wasn’t going to underestimate Nimueh, but it was almost certain that she would be underestimating him.
Although he knew it wasn’t the smart thing to do, with Nimueh having met him already, Merlin wanted to see Morgana and Gwen again. He missed them, even though he had Arthur now, but knew that it was a fruitless wish. Even though Nimueh knew about him, association with Emrys could get Morgana and Gwen hurt. Morgause had been very clear about that and Merlin wasn’t going to hurt his friends on a whim.
“We can walk through the private gardens in the palace,” Arthur offered, breaking into Merlin’s thoughts, almost as if he knew when Merlin needed distracting.
“I thought the queen’s garden was in the Tower itself,” Merlin said, brow furrowing.
“It is,” Arthur nodded. “But these are smaller gardens. More for display than a true purpose, but they’re attractive enough and there’s the added bonus that the plants are real.”
Merlin smiled, eyebrows shooting up in amazement. It didn’t matter what kind of plants they were, Merlin’s repertoire or real-life spottings of plants consisted of gnarled trees in the Wastelands and the scrubby flora back on Ealdor. Neither had been attractive, but if this was a garden designed to be impressive, then Merlin was sure there had to be splashes of colour and fragrant flowers.
The City fell into step around them once more, unaware they had just met with Nimueh and were planning to bring the monarchy to its heels. It was comforting to know that, despite everything, the world was normal, calm and running as per usual.
Together, they walked to the castle, Arthur being sure to take the lesser crowded ways, hiding Merlin from general view. Despite Nimueh being open, Arthur didn't want to take any chance, and Merlin wasn't about to argue with that.
The gardens were on the eastern side of the castle, closeted in their own little biosphere habitats. They were separated with doors, and when the first of the doors opened to one of the rooms, Merlin felt a rush of natural air, far more natural than he'd felt since he first came to Camelot, overwhelm him.
The flowers weren’t extraordinary, muted colours of beiges and pinks, but they were beautiful nonetheless. Merlin left Arthur’s side at once, bending down to see if they were fragrant, and caught a slight wiff of them, delight clear on his face as he turned to face Arthur.
“These are beautiful,” he said, drawing a smile from Arthur. The prince came to stand by Merlin’s side, fingers reaching for one of the stems, when the door leading to another room opened and a man strode in, long, leather coat wrapping around his knees as he walked forwards. He gave a slight start when he noticed Merlin and Arthur, and stopped where he stood, acknowledging Arthur and giving Merlin a dirty look.
“Arthur,” he greeted, voice warm yet far too polite.
“Father,” Arthur replied in the same tone and Merlin’s eyes widened, bowing his head instantly in respect. He wasn’t sure if they still bowed to kings in Camelot, but surely it couldn’t help.
“I thought you were running through the reports on building work in the lower towns? We can’t afford to lose the power supply down there and it’s looking to fail soon.” Again, Uther shot Merlin another cold glare, as if it were his fault Arthur wasn’t doing his task.
In truth, Arthur had completed the plans before they’d set out, over breakfast, saying that they should find a way to fuse the electrical and magical connections together in one channel, rather than the duel-system that ran through the city and try it out there firs if possible. Arthur had paused over his cereal thoughtfully and jotted down some notes, thanking Merlin, but they couldn’t reveal that much to Uther without blowing their much needed cover.
“This is a specialist,” Arthur said, lying through his teeth to his father. “I asked for his help on the project because I wanted to consider merging the two systems into one, both magical and electrical. I believe,” Arthur continued, “that we could benefit greatly from it, having a larger power supply bolstered, plus it would give the advantage of reinforcing-“
“Enough,” Uther interrupted, raising a hand. He sighed wearily, “We’ve had this conversation before Arthur, we don’t have the magic to merge the two systems. It’s never been done before, only hypothesised, and even the greatest sorcerers have never been able to complete the task.”
His eyes strayed to Merlin once more. “No matter what kind of specialist,” he said, with heavy emphasis on the word ‘specialist’, “You have at your disposal, it won’t be enough. I expect your proper report in a few days’ time,” Uther finished, sidestepping around them, making it clear his point was absolute and there was nothing they could do to change that.
Merlin took a moment to look at Arthur, noticing that his shoulders were slightly slumped. How many times had Uther shot down his son’s ideas, not even willing to discuss possibilities. Did the king even know the intelligence his son possessed, that he was the one who would be able to find a way without magic to make the pathways connect? It wouldn’t be easy - so it was a good thing they did have Merlin and his magic - but Merlin had full confidence that Arthur would find a way around that.
“I’ve never seen a flower like this,” Merlin said instead, catching Arthur’s hand with his own and pulling him back to the pale pink blooms. “Everything in Ealdor was hardy and practical, while in the druid land, it was boggy and suited to the marsh.”
Arthur caught his gaze for a moment, sending a spark of heat through Merlin, before he separated their fingers and reached again for the flower. He snapped the stem, offering the flower to Merlin.
“Not everyone gets to just snap off flowers from the garden,” Arthur commented dryly, still waiting for the flower to change hands. “We can press it when we get home if you like, or you can wait until it dies and I can pick you a new one.”
It was a simple, stupid gesture, but Merlin couldn’t think of anything nicer Arthur could have offered. Without really thinking, he threw his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling the man into a hug before hurriedly letting go again. It was the most contact they’d had since the night at the Isle, and Merlin felt suddenly hyper aware of Arthur, his magic wanting to feel their connection again, deeper than what they had at the moment.
The flower passed from Arthur to Merlin, and he cradled it gently at first, afraid it would fall apart. When Merlin was sure the petals weren’t about to crumble, he took it firmly by the stem, not in the least slighted by the fact it was a flower.
“Thank you,” Merlin said a moment later, and Arthur nodded, leading them from the gardens and the palace, back to the house.
That night, Merlin lay on his back on the sofa, eyes closed yet far from sleep. He could hear Arthur in the other room, every breath he took as the door was wide open, and though they were mere metres apart, Merlin felt as though they’d never been further, even with their pasts and a whole Ocean that had been between them.
He didn’t understand Arthur Pendragon. Yes, they were comrades, two people taking on an almighty task to overthrow a corrupt monarchy, but they were also friends. Or at least Merlin thought so, though he knew his magic would be more than content with something more. Merlin himself too would be happier if he could touch Arthur again, lay beside him in a bed and not out here on the sofa, but that was a hopeless thought.
One drunken mistake and his magic was convinced Arthur and he belonged together. One drunken mistake and Merlin wondered what more would be like, craved more when there was nothing else to think about under the cover of night.
Merlin ran a hand over the two items laid on his chest, the Obsidian and the flower Arthur had given him. They’d press it between the pages of the Chronicles of Beltane tomorrow, but Merlin wanted to keep it with him for now, enjoying the lingering scent of the petals and remembering the innocent and vulnerable expression that had crossed Arthur’s face when he’d presented the flower.
He shuffled a little, pressing his head back into the cushions underneath and gave a small sigh, wondering what they would do next. There was so much to do, lest of all think about the relationship between them, no matter how much Merlin wanted to pay attention to it.
Perhaps when everything was done, Nimueh vanquished and Arthur taking control of his kingdom, Merlin could think about what he wanted. When he had his mother, Gaius and Mordred back and had divulged the truth about Ygraine to Arthur.
There was guilt in knowing that he still hadn’t told Arthur about his mother, but compared to everything else, it weighed little around Merlin’s neck. He sniffed, soaking in the flower’s scent, before he let his hand fall from his side and he finally succumbed to slumber.
.
| Part Thirteen|