Fic: Harmonia Mundi (Merlin/Arthur, R): Part 3
Part Three
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Time passed. Days were full repairing the damage the dragon had wrought, rebuilding houses and lives. Evenings were spent tending to Arthur or talking with Gaius, who seemed to have endless questions, trying to find words to describe what he heard. Gaius wrote down everything Merlin could tell him in a little blue book that carefully contained no names and was hidden behind the leech tank.
It had been spring when Merlin had first arrived in Camelot, so long ago, and now the seasons were turning again. The cold north wind hummed with the approaching winter.
Uther continued to search for Morgana, Arthur leading patrols to all the far-flung corners of the kingdom looking for any sign of her presence. Sometimes he took Merlin on these trips, and sometimes he didn’t.
Merlin hated being left behind. Not only did he worry about Arthur, but the prince’s absence left a palpable hole in the symphony of the castle. There was a silence where his song ought to be, a gap in the tapestry of life that was Camelot, and Merlin hated it. He felt like he was continually reaching for something only to find it gone, as if he were climbing stairs and overestimating how many there were, expecting one too many and then finding his foot falling through air, crashing to the hard stone with a jolt. A hundred times a day he found himself reaching for Arthur’s bright resonance and falling short.
He didn’t know when Arthur’s presence had become so important to him, and somehow he didn’t care. He just missed the prince whenever he was gone, and worried about him constantly. And if, when Arthur was gone, Gaius had to call his name several times before he managed to get Merlin’s attention, or if he didn’t hear Gwen talking to him until she actually touched his arm and made him jump, well - it was just that he was busy and distracted. Nothing more.
When Arthur was in Camelot, Merlin spent most of his days running after the prince. They were almost always together, Arthur ordering Merlin around and Merlin answering back, bickering companionably as Arthur trained the knights or Merlin polished armour. It was so comfortable to spend time in the prince’s presence, so unbelievably easy to hear his voice over the constant background din that Merlin made every effort to spent as much time with Arthur as possible.
Of course, this made Arthur’s frequent trips away even harder to bear. Compared to listening to the prince, Merlin was now much more aware of how much of an effort he had to make just to hear other people speak over the unrelenting noise of the busy castle. It also helped that something about being around the prince also made it more easy to concentrate on the real world. It was as though Arthur’s familiar music took up enough of his attention that it distracted the part of Merlin that was always listening to the songs, and let the rest of him interact with the real world. When Arthur was away on patrol, Merlin found that somehow he always had a headache.
As the song of winter grew louder, north wind blowing fierce and strong and reminiscent of King Uther, Merlin found it was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on the world. The music rang in his ears as he did his chores, just as it always had but somehow more distracting now. The frequent headaches grew worse.
Arthur returned from another trip away, and suddenly Merlin found he was staring at the prince’s mouth whenever he spoke. He didn’t know what to make of it, until he realised that he was staring at Gaius’s mouth as the old man berated him about something or another, and started to pay more attention to where he was looking. That was how Merlin discovered that whenever he spoke to anyone, he watched their mouth, reading the words from their lips instead of hearing their voices. And when Arthur spoke, because Merlin did not need the extra assistance, only then had he that noticed he was staring at all.
Trips to collect herbs for Gaius became Merlin’s favourite part of the day. He had always relished his time alone with the song of the forest, but now it was a chance to escape the deafening thrum of the castle and the near-constant headache. And if it was a time where he was alone and had no need to concentrate to hear what people were saying to him, well, that was all to the good and probably helped as well. Merlin deliberately did not consider that the strain to hear words over the music could also be the reason for his headache.
And then one morning Merlin woke to find the song of the city overlain with the quiet, constant, beautiful song of fresh white snow. He rushed to open his window, throwing the shutters wide to let the sun stream through, staring down on the snow-covered town and glorying in the beauty of the sight and the sound.
There was whiteness everywhere, singing clean and bright and joyful from every direction. Merlin couldn’t resist letting the sound wash over him, enveloping him, the music sweeping into every part of his mind. It cascaded through him like a river, gentle at first, singing golden and happy and bright, growing steadily stronger. Louder. Soon Merlin could hear nothing else. There was just music. A frisson of fear went through him, and he tried to focus his suddenly-blurring eyesight. But the music was overwhelmingly strong now, a mighty roaring in his ears, an unstoppable torrent of sound and magic flooding through him and washing everything away until there was nothing but white and gold and music. Merlin felt like he was drowning in light, and everything else was fading away. Even as he reached out for the reality he could only just remember, it was gone as though it had never existed. Time no longer had any meaning. There had never been anything but music. There could never be anything else but this golden existence.
“Merlin!”
Arthur’s voice cut through the beauty, jerking Merlin sharply back into reality. His mind reeled with the suddenness of the awakening, the alien feel of stone beneath his fingers and cloth against his skin, the strange variety of colours as the room swam back into focus. For a moment he felt utterly lost. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and looked around. Gaius, Gwen and Arthur were all standing in his room, and all three were staring at him. The music was quieter now, the magic calmed by Arthur’s bright presence. Merlin blinked, searched for words he was sure he had known once.
“...what?” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What are you all doing here?”
Gwen looked worried, and her lips were moving. Merlin concentrated hard, trying to hear what she was saying. “Gaius said he came in almost an hour ago to wake you, and you were just staring out the window. I came to meet you as usual, and he was in here trying to get your attention, but we couldn’t get you to respond. Then Arthur came looking for you, because you were so late, he just got here and then you woke up. Are you feeling okay? Is there something wrong?”
Merlin rubbed his face, staring blankly at his friends and trying to focus on the world around him rather than the music in his head. “Um....”
The music was beguiling, but he tried not to listen. He could remember struggling uselessly against the torrent of noise - if Arthur hadn’t been able to call him back to himself, how long would he have been lost for? Would he ever have been able to come back? Or would he have faded into nothing, a dying note unmissed in the bright symphony?
As his mind wandered, the music tugged at his attention, trying to pull him away again. He fought to keep his focus on the people in front of him, focusing on Arthur’s song, letting its simple harmony ground him to the real world.
And then Arthur’s voice cut straight through all the noise, blessedly easy to hear. Merlin had never been so relieved to hear anything in his entire life. “What is wrong with you, Merlin? Are you ill? Or just completely deaf this morning?”
“I - sorry, I was just. Um. Lost in my own head, I guess.”
“Well, there’s enough empty space in there that I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised!” Arthur snarled.
Gaius jumped in at that point. “Are your ears still giving you trouble, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked in confusion. “What?”
Gaius glared meaningfully at him. “You were complaining about your ears last night, remember? I thought you might be getting an infection, and that would explain what happened this morning. How are they feeling now?”
Gwen’s look turned sympathetic. “Oh, yes, Merlin, you do look pale. Though you are normally fairly pale - not that I’m saying that’s a bad thing!”
Merlin tried to smile reassuringly at her. He hadn’t heard every single word she’d said, but he had gotten most of it. It was easier to understand people if he focused on Arthur, somehow - the spring of the prince’s song was a strange contrast to the bright chiming snow all around him, but the unusual dichotomy was oddly easy to let play underneath the words, instead of over the top of them.
The prince was still staring at him, frowning.
“Maybe you should take the day off, if you’re not well,” Gaius suggested, but the idea of not being around Arthur sent a bolt of fear through Merlin. If the prince left, he might get lost in the snow-song again, and not be able to find his way back.
“No! No, I’m sure its fine. I’m fine. I’ll just...” He fished frantically for clean clothes, looking for enough layers to keep him warm in the cold air outside and hoping he hadn’t left the magic book anywhere obvious (again).
“Are you sure?” Gaius gave him the eyebrow look, but right now Merlin was much more worried about losing the world again than he was of any kind of disapproval, and he was soon stumbling towards the training yards after Arthur, wishing he’d not lost so much time as to be forced to skip breakfast.
The morning passed in a whirlwind of confusion. Merlin tried his hardest to concentrate on the world around him, closing his ears to the music and focusing on the cold air biting his face as he watched the knights train, or on the solid reality of the metal in his hands as he sharpened a sword. The prince kept him nearby, to Merlin’s relief, though Arthur kept shooting him strange looks, a frown on his face. Merlin tried his best to appear healthy, innocent, and focused.
Fortunately, the day was easier than he had expected - strangely, somehow a large part of his chores were done before he got to them. When he went to muck out the stables, he found they had already been done, and the floors in Arthur’s chambers were still damp with scrubbing when he got to them. It was a bit odd, as he didn’t know who would have gained access to the room without the prince’s permission, but when he asked Arthur all he got was a glare for his trouble. “Stop worrying, Merlin. You sound like an old woman. Now sit down and polish my amour.”
Merlin spent most of the afternoon in the prince’s chambers, polishing old pieces of armour that Arthur had suddenly decided needed to be spotless, even though he hadn’t used any of them for months. It was an easy task, and the prince’s near-constant company was reassuring. But when Arthur had to go to a council meeting, Merlin had to swallow against the fear thickening in his throat, clutching a pauldron tight to hide his shaking fingers. It would be so easy to let the music sweep him away again, to lose himself in the beautiful symphony. He could so easily be lost, without Arthur nearby to keep him safe.
There was nothing he could do, though, and for the few hours he was alone he tried to close his ears even further. The cold metal in his hands helped, and he found himself reaching out for the reassurance that was Arthur’s distant song every few minutes, letting it anchor him to the real world.
But he did not lose himself again, and the comfort of having the prince nearby made him feel safe, less fragile, less completely foreign and at odds with the world. Because really, getting lost like this was about as ridiculous as it was terrifying - but Merlin couldn’t stop his hands trembling whenever he considered what might have happened had Arthur not come to find him that morning.
The beauty of the music now seemed sinister.
That evening, Gaius scowled worriedly across the table as they ate. It was harder to concentrate without Arthur around, but Merlin was more comfortable being without the prince immediately nearby now, still reaching for him every so often for reassurance but feeling more confident after not having gotten lost at all that afternoon. He did his best to answer the urgent questions as he ate.
“You say that you didn’t notice the time passing?” Gaius pressed, eyebrow demonstrating his concern.
“No! One minute I was opening the shutters, and then Arthur was calling my name. I have no idea how a whole hour could have passed, I didn’t notice anything at all.”
“That is strange. And you say you couldn’t focus on the real world?”
Merlin nodded. “I was lost, Gaius. I couldn’t get back.” He looked down, and then back up again. “I tried, but it was too strong, I just... couldn’t.”
Gaius frowned. “This is worrying. If you could get lost at any time, how are we going to keep you safe?”
“I don’t know!” Merlin said desperately, leaning forward on his elbows. “What can I do? I can’t risk getting lost and not being able to get back! And people are going to notice if I can’t hear them!”
“For now, the priority is keeping your secret and keeping you as grounded as possible,” Gaius told him. “Is there anything apart from Arthur’s voice that helps? Food, cold, touch? None of those worked this morning, but if they could help prevent another attack…”
“Well…,” Merlin pondered. “I guess... I guess people touching me helps? Or at least it has before, even if it didn’t this morning. Arthur being around is best though, his resonance is really grounding - just like the dragon, and his voice helps even more. The problem with other things is their music is just as likely to be distracting as they are to be helpful. Though maybe...”
“Wait,” Gaius interrupted. “You said the dragon was grounding? It helped you?”
“Yes. His song was always in the background, and it really useful for whenever I needed to focus. And his voice is audible in the same way as Arthur’s.” Merlin paused for a moment, then continued. “Do you think that might be why this is happening now? Because the dragon is no longer hidden under the castle?” Merlin leaned back, not sure if he hoped he was right or not.
“It certainly would make sense.” Gaius said, looking thoughtful. “You have only started having trouble after you sent the beast away from Camelot. And now with the prince away frequently, the only other centering force you have is not always present. It makes sense that you would start to have difficulties.”
Merlin nodded, and then frowned. “But what can we do about it? We can hardly bring the dragon back, because someone would definitely notice that. And if I keep hanging around Arthur, eventually he’s going to get suspicious.”
“Well, you do normally spend a large part of your day with the prince anyway, and you are managing well enough with him on the other side of the castle now. We just need to make sure you are not exposed to anything that could overwhelm you without him being nearby, and find a way to make sure you go with him on patrol.”
Merlin groaned with frustration. “Oh, is that all? Great, no problems at all then! That’ll be easy. Oh, Arthur, I’m just going to follow you like a pet dog wherever you go, don’t mind me. And if I seem to be a bit vague, just hit me upside the head and I’ll be fine. Easy as that!”
“Merlin, please,” Gaius glared at him. “I am trying my best to help you.”
Merlin sighed, slumping down to hold his head in his hands. “I know, I know. Sorry.”
Gaius reached out and patted his arm. “I’m sure we’ll work something out. For now, just do the best you can and I’ll see what I can come up with. All right?”
Merlin nodded. “All right, Gaius, thank you. And if I get lost again, just - I don’t know. Please make sure I come back.”
“I won’t let you stay lost, Merlin, don’t worry. We’ll work it out.”
Not really reassured, Merlin took himself off to bed and lay in the dark, trying to ignore the now-ominous singing of the world around him.
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For the next few days, Merlin stuck as close to Arthur as he could and tried to ignore the music as much as he was able. The prince didn’t seem to notice anything different, or if he did, he didn’t object.
And then one afternoon, Merlin opened the window in Arthur’s chambers to let in some fresh air. The snow chimed in welcome, and all of Camelot just glowed in the soft sunshine, ringing with bright beauty, and he was lost. There was only light, and sound, and all the rest fell away.
A small part of him struggled, fighting against the overwhelming glory that drowned out any capacity conscious thought, protesting the loss of... what? Surely there had never been anything but the song, and the light, and there never could be anything else because what could equal this? But even as that tiny part screamed in terror, it was fading, lost beneath the power and glory of the music, swelling louder still until
“Merlin!”
and he came crashing back into reality, his name on Arthur’s lips like an anchor, the prince’s voice pulling at the centre of his chest and forcing him back to the world. It was like waking from a dream of falling just before he hit the ground, to find himself somehow caught, and safe. He gasped for breath, panting at the shock of his return, and Arthur’s hands were on his shoulders, real and solid, rubbing his back and gently manoeuvring him to sit while the familiar, comforting voice grumbled about his uselessness.
Merlin, still gasping, looked up into Arthur’s worried eyes and wondered how they got to be so blue. “Thank you,” he managed. And he was grateful, so unbelievably grateful, he had never been so grateful for anything in his life.
“What? What are you talking about, Merlin?”
Merlin looked down again, trying to catch his breath, mind still a whirl of panic, fear, thankfulness and music. He tried to reign in his racing thoughts, tried to focus, and something floated to the top. He looked back up at the frowning prince, and smiled. “I’m glad that it’s you.”
Arthur blinked at him, still frowning. “What are you on about, Merlin?” His hands were still on Merlin’s back, rubbing gently, and his tone was exasperated as he continued, “You imbecile, you’re obviously still unwell from whatever it was the other day, why aren’t taking time off like any sensible person would? Of course, I know you aren’t anything remotely resembling sensible, but I can’t believe Gaius let you out if you’re sick. You could be contagious, and I’m sure making the crown prince ill is a crime, I could have you in the stocks for this, you idiot. No, don’t try to get up!”
Merlin tried to fight off the strong grip that keeping him in the chair. “I’m fine! Really, it was just a passing dizzy spell, I’m better, honest, it was nothing.”
“You are staying here until Gaius checks you over. No arguments.” Arthur crossed to the door, sticking his head out into the corridor and ordering a passing servant to bring the court physician, at once, and hurry up about it.
Merlin let his head fall back against the chair, breath still coming a little fast, fighting against the fear swirling in his gut. Arthur obviously didn’t think sorcery was to blame for his servant’s ‘dizzy spell’, which was a relief, but Merlin was still rather desperately anxious that it would happen again. He’d been hoping, after a few days had passed, that the first time had just been a fluke - a one-time occurrence that he could forget had ever happened. But it seemed that it was not, and he was going to need to be much, much more careful in the future.
And then Gaius was there, green and familiar and fussing, taking Merlin back to his room and making him spend the rest of the day reading huge tomes looking for anything that might be an answer.
“What if you blocked your ears? That way you wouldn’t be able to hear the music.”
“Then I couldn’t hear anything else either, which hardly helps! And I think my ears don’t really matter for the music, half the time it feels like I hear it in my head instead of through my ears. That’s why it’s so loud.”
“If the music is magical in origin, maybe something that blocked magic would block the noise...” Gaius mused, rubbing his chin.
“There are things that do that? Block magic?” Merlin asked, surprised.
“Oh, yes. They were instrumental in the great purge - stopping the more powerful from escaping or from using their powers to hurt the king’s men. Powerful magic objects themselves, naturally, they have their roots in the Old Religion. I believe there are some articles still stored in the vaults that block all access to magical power.”
“All access? So - so I wouldn’t hear anything at all, if it worked?”
“Why yes, Merlin. You would be like any other person, no magic at all, not hearing anything apart from the normal sounds of every-day life.”
Gaius had barely finished speaking before Merlin was shaking his head, raising trembling hands as if to ward off an attacker, eyes wide and voice loud. “NO. No, no, not ever, no, oh gods, no.”
Gaius looked surprised at the fear in Merlin’s voice. “Really? I thought it rather a good idea - it would certainly solve the problem of your losing yourself, and it would probably fix the headaches as well. You’d be able to take off the blocking device whenever you needed to do magic. I think it could work quite well.”
An involuntary shudder swept through Merlin’s body, and another. “Nothing could be worse than silence, Gaius. I don’t care if I get lost again, I don’t care if I never come back!” He ducked his head, wrapping his arms around himself, shaking his head. “Not hearing anything... existing in silence? No. I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t bear - it would be like being dead! No, no, I - no. No, not ever. No.”
“If it scares you so much, my boy, then of course we will try to find another way.” Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s shaking shoulder, trying to reassure him. “I had no idea that silence scared you so much, you never mentioned it before. We will find a different solution, I promise.”
Merlin looked up and tried to smile, but his voice was still shaking. “Thanks, Gaius. I guess the - the silence thing, it never came up.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know how you can bear to live without hearing, live with silence. I don’t care what the risks are, anything is better than that.”
“Then we will find another way.” Gaius reassured him.
Merlin nodded, lowering his head and trying to quell the fear gnawing at his belly. There would be another way, because there had to be. Anything was better than silence.
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Much later that night, Merlin couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and then sat up, rubbing his face. He was so used to the soft humming of the city lulling him as he drowsed off, trying to ignore it made it falling asleep nearly impossible.
Almost without a thought, he got up and pulled on a coat, slipping easily past a softly-snoring Gaius to wander aimlessly through the chilly corridors of the quiet castle.
His feet led him along a familiar path, and he stopped at the top of the dungeon stairs before deciding that the cave beneath the castle was as good a place as any to mope undisturbed. Getting past the guards was as easy as ever, and soon he was sitting on the ledge, kicking his feet over the huge space and wondering at how empty it seemed without the dragon-song echoing from the walls.
But somehow, to Merlin’s confusion, there was still a soft, faint ringing of dragon coming from the rocks below. He climbed down the stairs, listening carefully for the fire-and-mountain resonance, and there it was. A scale, about the size of his palm, probably shed months ago, still softly humming with the song of the dragon. Merlin picked it up, running his fingers over the rough, hard surface and letting the music of it centre him and hold him safe.
The next morning, Gaius was sceptical. “You can’t expect to just carry it around in your pocket! What if you lose it? What if it is discovered? How do you explain why you are carrying a dragon scale around?
“So maybe it’s not a permanent solution, but it works for now,” Merlin argued. “Surely that’s enough?”
“Hmmmm,” Gaius remained unconvinced. “I want you to stay as close to the prince as possible anyway. If I teach you more about the basics of healing, that will give you a good enough reason to go with Arthur when he patrols, and then you may not even need the scale.”
“All right.” Merlin agreed, though he was not looking forward to the extra lessons he had no doubt Gaius was going to pile on him. The dragon scale was brilliant, he was sure, and would work perfectly. He didn’t need to worry any more.
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It was a relief to be able to accompany Arthur on his various missions and patrols. Merlin bickered contentedly with the prince as they travelled, enjoying the new sights and sounds and the comforting familiarity that was Arthur, the scale tucked safely in his pack just in case. The prince seemed happy enough with Merlin following him almost everywhere, and the castle was already used to the sight of the two of them joined at the hip, arguing as they crossed the courtyard or teasing each other on the training grounds. And if Merlin was happiest when Arthur was nearby, well, that was because of the magic, of course.
Months passed, and Merlin made sure to take the scale with him everywhere he went, even with Arthur around. He still struggled to hear voices, and there always seemed to be a headache hovering somewhere around his temples, but he didn’t get lost again and that was enough for him to be content.
There was still no sign of Morgana. Uther refused to stop searching for her, but Merlin was secretly relieved whenever the patrol returned without having found any trace. He hoped Morgause had taken her far away, and that he would never hear either of them again.
Of course, only weeks after Merlin had finally convinced himself that they were gone for good, Morgana came staggering out of the forest, dishevelled and terrified, ringing oh-so-familiar, her eagle-song sounding just as it always had.
And she said she forgave him. For a short while, Merlin let himself believe that it was all going to be alright again.
It took him far too long to realise the magical nature of the eerie discordance that was Uther’s madness, and when he did the knowledge of his role in turning Morgana into Camelot’s betrayer burned like fire in his chest. The guilt was suffocating, overwhelming, and he struggled against it as he fought Morgause’s chains. But he was as helpless against the guilt as he was against the high ringing chains which bound him tight and distracted him with their piercing song, making it so much harder to keep the giant insects away.
Seeing Kilgharrah again after so long was a relief, and Merlin let the dragon’s fire-and-mountain music wash over him and comfort him, safe in the knowledge that he was with the only other being in the world, apart from Arthur, who could recall him to himself. And if the dragon knew what his presence, or his absence, had meant for Merlin, he did not mention it.
It was nice to know, when he finally got back to Camelot, that Arthur had missed him - even if the prat had a poor way of showing it. And then Cenred was attacking the castle and Merlin had to focus so as not to get swept away by the loud mass of humanity clamouring at the gates.
The silent undead skeletons were easy to miss in the roar of the battle raging around them, and Merlin had to listen hard to find the source of the magic. Facing Morgana in the crypt hurt more than he thought it would, her song so familiar and her words so full of hate.
After the battle was won, though, it seemed that the lines were drawn and things went back to some vague semblance of normal. Merlin tried to avoid Morgana as much as he could, and if that meant spending less time in Arthur’s company, well, at least he had the scale to keep him safe for now. Strange things still happened with a startling regularity, but then that was fairly standard for Camelot anyway.
Meeting Gwaine in the tavern was much more fun than any other odd, dangerous things that seemed to happen around Arthur. The other man rang with the cheeky happiness of a magpie, but somehow deeper and more complex as well, with shades of the capricious west wind weaving themselves in and out of the song. A small part of Merlin wanted to sit and listen to him for hours, just trying to hear all the secret aspects of the music he was sure were there under the surface. Of course, it helped that the man was gorgeous. Merlin might be a little distant from the real world at the best of times, but he certainly wasn’t blind, not when there was a fit, half-naked man in his bed, smiling at him in that disarming way.
Gwaine's Song
Gwaine didn’t stay long, but Merlin had hopes of seeing him again one day. Hopefully soon.
Then there was Taliesin, who seemed somehow muted, as if he was not really there, but maybe that was just because the crystals in the cave were so loud. The sheer strength of the cave-song made his head spin, the symphony of past, present and future twining sinuously through his mind and making it hard to focus on anything but the music. Merlin tried not to think about how certain he was that if he hadn’t had the dragon-scale in his pocket, he would probably never have found his way out of the cave again. And then that future came to pass, everything happening just as he had heard that it would, and Merlin despaired, hating destiny and hating a world that showed him these things and left him powerless to change them.
Elena was a sweet-sounding girl, though she always seemed somehow out of tune - as though here were a second song beneath her resonance that Merlin couldn’t quite hear until he and Gaius discovered the Sidhe’s plans and released the changeling inside her. Elyan sounded like the clanging iron that was his trade as a blacksmith, and Merlin was glad they were able to rescue him successfully from the smirking raven-Cenred despite all Morgana’s attempts to thwart them.
Seeing Gwaine again was a delight, and questing with both him and Arthur was the most fun Merlin had had in ages, even with the dead-sounding Perilous Lands and the poor Fisher King alone in the desolate castle. The water in the jar sounded just like what it was - water, nothing to mark it as different from any other. Merlin tucked it away safely, though, just in case.
Time rolled by, strange things happened, and life went on as usual. Merlin kept the scale with him and felt safe. He still tried to ignore the music as much as he could, though, and was careful never to immerse himself in it, the way he had done so often in the past. It was better to be safe, even if he mourned the loss that glorious beauty, fiercely, missing it like he would one of his limbs.
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And then Leon almost died. Merlin could hardly believe that the only thing that saved him was that cup, the one Merlin had thought safely lost on the Isle of the Blessed, out of reach and hopefully forgotten by all. And then he and Arthur were off on a quest once again, Arthur sounding bright and confident, happy to be on the road, and Merlin happy to be with Arthur.
Getting captured by slave-traders was not exactly part of the plan, even though finding Gwaine was almost enough of a pleasure to make up for the inconvenience. If Merlin had tucked the dragon scale into a pocket of his breeches, safe and hidden and secret, instead of slipping in the rest of the baggage with the royal seal and stash of coin, it would have been. If they had not had to flee for their lives with only the clothes on their backs, he would have had no qualms about the whole experience and would have enjoyed the oddly melodious harmony that was Arthur-and-Gwaine running through the forest.
Unfortunately, this was not what happened.
Merlin had to hide his shaking hands as he leaned against the tree, still out of breath. He was safe, Arthur was safe, Gwaine was safe. The loss of their possessions should be insignificant considering how close they’d come to being killed by the slavers. Merlin had to bite back a groan of frustration and fear. He had known being so reliant on the scale was a bad idea, that having such a crutch could only end badly - as it had. But he still hadn’t found any way of grounding himself that did not involve either the dragon scale or the crown prince. At least Arthur was still there, panting, resonating obliviously as he clipped Merlin over the head for telling Gwaine about the cup.
The song of the forest surged around them, pretty and distracting. It was probably only the fear that made everything seem louder, wilder, that made him think that the music twining around the edges of his awareness anything like a cat stalking a wing-damaged bird. He shook his head, trying to quash the panic slowly uncoiling in his chest and focus on the real world. Arthur. Arthur was there. That would be enough. That would have to be enough.
The cave sounded far too comfortable and familiar for Merlin’s peace of mind, the druids blending into their place in song as effectively as they hid from sight. And when they did emerge, earthy and disquietingly peaceful, it was to be surprisingly accommodating. Merlin felt as suspicious as Arthur looked when the druid handed over the pure, resonant cup without a fight.
He did have to suppress a shudder when they addressed him as Emrys, though, the words echoing through his head and sending ice sliding down his spine. It was one thing to have Mordred name him such in the privacy of their own minds, but to hear the druids address him so with the prince standing right there felt like much more of a risk - even if he knew Arthur couldn’t hear them.
It all seemed too easy, really, and Merlin pondered this as he tried hard not to listen to the melodious woods around them, or the rather loud cup tucked into Arthur’s belt, focusing on his sight and touch, and on Arthur’s song. This turned out to be a mistake, as he was so busy trying to be distracted that he missed the soldiers surrounding them, and suddenly they were running for their lives from Cenred’s soldiers. Arthur was collapsing with an arrow in his leg and the cup was singing radiantly as it flew through the air. Merlin reached for it, trying to twist its song to here, but something in the essence of the metal resisted his attempts and instead it was rolling into the hands of the soldiers, and then it was gone and Arthur was lying unmoving on the ground.
The poison from the arrow flowed insidiously through Arthur’s veins, stealing his strength and tainting his song with disharmony. It made Merlin wince to hear the prince’s bright song sound so wrong. He had to keep his hands from shaking as he tried all he could to force it back into tune, trying any word-spell he could think of when Gwaine was gone, or just keeping his eyes averted while he pushed at the faltering resonance, desperately shoving Arthur towards health.
He did not let himself think about what might happen if Arthur’s song faded for too long, or if the fever-wracked prince did not get better.
Waking the next morning to Arthur’s grumpy sniping was an incredible relief. Not even the growing dread as they made slow progress back to Camelot, and worry for the prince’s wound, could completely stifle the bubble of happiness Merlin felt at Arthur not being dead - until they crested the hill and saw the smoke billowing up from the mighty turret, and he heard the low, horrible, throbbing discordance of the cup filled with blood echoed through the city.
But apart from that low, constant, terrible thrum, the castle seemed strangely silent, with very little to indicate the presence of an occupying army. Merlin puzzled over this until he realised how oddly quiet the immortal soldiers were, somehow muted in a way that reminded Merlin of Taliesin - as though they were not really there at all. Nonetheless, they were easy enough to avoid as the three of them crept through the empty streets, past the silent bodies of Camelot’s men. Arthur’s leg was much worse now, and Merlin could only hope, desperately, that he would be able to get something from Gaius’s chambers that might help.
They found Elyan alive and unharmed, ringing metal song filling the small house and Merlin had to quell his discomfort at Arthur’s evident concern for Gwen, reminding himself that she was his friend and this was really, really not the time. Getting into the occupied citadel was easier than it might have been, and finding Gaius was a relief. But Merlin would have done anything, anything at all, to prevent that look of broken-hearted despair on Arthur’s face when he saw Morgana wearing his father’s crown.
The cave was a comforting, earthy hum, strategic in its location and fortunately not too overwhelming for Merlin. He did his best to encourage his despondent prince as he tried to work out how to deal with the powerful magic protecting Morgana’s throne - while also making sure he didn’t get lost in the overwhelming music of the woods and the knights. Gwaine was a wonderful friend, but his song was really very distracting.
The water from the Fisher King, when spilled, rang with the peaceful, familiar song of a high mountain lake. It sounded just like Freya had, when she had been alive, and Merlin fought back tears as she told him how to defeat the undead soldiers. The soft music washed over him gently, soothing him like she had, and for the first time in days he felt himself relaxing.
“There is but one weapon that can slay something that is already dead.” Her voice was faint, and he had to concentrate hard to hear it. “Anyone who toys with the cup pays a terrible price. The moment they entered into their pact with Morgause, they became the living dead.”
The strange, muted resonance of the soldiers suddenly made sense. Merlin felt relief surge through him. This would not be easy, but it could be done.
Summoning Kilgharrah made him feel even better. The dragon’s song was familiar and strong, its reassuring beauty making Merlin feel safe again. Retrieving Excalibur was easy enough with Kilgharrah’s help, and the bright fire of the sword’s song was encouraging.
But then the dragon was leaving again and Merlin had to command him to stay, to hear Merlin’s second request. But when Merlin asked for another scale, the response was not what he expected.
The dragon glared balefully at him. “You have brought your current plight upon yourself. You used my scale in a way that was never intended.”
“What else can I do? I can’t get lost in the music, not when Arthur needs me!”
“You and the young Pendragon are two parts of the same harmony. One part is meaningless without the other. When your melodies are truly entwined, you will no longer need any part of me to keep you safe.”
Great, thought Merlin, more cryptic and unhelpful riddles. “But that doesn’t help me now!”
Kilgharrah was already flying away, as he always did after giving utterly useless advice, but lying on the ground where he had been was a small sliver of dragon-claw, small and sharp and humming with bright, saving resonance. Merlin picked it up gratefully and turned it over in his hands, wincing when the sharp point cut painfully into his thumb. He tucked it into his pocket and sucked at the cut, trying not to think too carefully about what the dragon might have meant by ‘truly entwined’.
And then suddenly, amazingly, Gwen and Leon were there, and the enemy had found them. Then somehow Lancelot was there as well, and with him a new man who sounded solid and reliable and somehow like the strong rock foundations on which mighty things were built, and together they were escaping the muted soldiers to retreat to an abandoned castle.
The round table rang with a song louder and fiercer than a mere table should, and Merlin wondered what it had been used for in the past - and how important it would be in the future. He looked around at the companions sitting with him, and now that he felt safe in the dragon’s protection, he let the music wash over him as he had not for far, far too long.
It was a symphony. Powerful and strong, each note both complemented the others and augmented them, the individual songs weaving together into a perfect tapestry of sound. Merlin let the harmony sweep over him. From the familiarity of Arthur’s bright-burning fire-and-spring, Gwen’s warm flowers and Gaius’s green forest-song, to the pure-water that was Lancelot and the dependable earth of Leon, the happy tickling breeze of Gwaine, the ringing clang of Elyan and the firm solidity of Percival.
It was a good balance, a strong one. Merlin was pleased. He smiled at his prince, his future king, delighting in the hope in his eyes, and began to plan his own strategy for the attack on Camelot.
~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~
Her sister was lying limp and lifeless on the cold floor. Blood trickled down the wall, and the cup of life rocked gently, emptied of the blood that had been the foundation of her reign.
One of the first things the late and unlamented King Cenred had taught Morgana, in the long months she’d spent as a guest in his citadel with him and her sister, learning everything they had to teach her, was that one should always have a back-up plan, a second option, a secret escape known only to oneself. No matter what, you should always leave yourself a way out.
Morgan had not forgotten the dream of Gwen and Arthur, smiling and radiant on Camelot’s throne.
After she took the throne, after the prisoners had been escorted back to the dungeon, after her immortal army was installed in the castle, she went with Morgause to the castle vaults. The cold, cobwebbed, echoing cellars had been just as unpleasant as she remembered. She tried to avoid looking at the crystal lying on its velvet cushion, instead trailing fingers over the dusty shelves and peering at the mysterious boxes.
Morgause smiled as she looked around her. “This is most excellent, sister. We will be able to restore many magical artefacts to their rightful masters. A great victory for the Old Religion, and a blow to Uther and his tyranny.”
Morgana left the management of the vault’s treasures to her sister, instead focusing on tightening her grasp on the fragile threads that were the web of Camelot’s politics. Many things were taken from the castle, distributed to allies or moved to a more secure location. And it turned out that this was just as well.
“It’s over, Morgana.” Merlin’s voice was cold, echoing in the hall that had been filled with her men only minutes before. Gaius moved to stand behind him, face blank and implacable.
“No, you’re wrong! It is just begun.”
Cradling her sister in her arms, Morgana let the fury she felt surge out of her, the tingling, burning magic gushing from the well deep inside her as she screamed.
She had not forgotten Cenred’s advice.
“NO!”
~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~
To Part Four
~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~
Time passed. Days were full repairing the damage the dragon had wrought, rebuilding houses and lives. Evenings were spent tending to Arthur or talking with Gaius, who seemed to have endless questions, trying to find words to describe what he heard. Gaius wrote down everything Merlin could tell him in a little blue book that carefully contained no names and was hidden behind the leech tank.
It had been spring when Merlin had first arrived in Camelot, so long ago, and now the seasons were turning again. The cold north wind hummed with the approaching winter.
Uther continued to search for Morgana, Arthur leading patrols to all the far-flung corners of the kingdom looking for any sign of her presence. Sometimes he took Merlin on these trips, and sometimes he didn’t.
Merlin hated being left behind. Not only did he worry about Arthur, but the prince’s absence left a palpable hole in the symphony of the castle. There was a silence where his song ought to be, a gap in the tapestry of life that was Camelot, and Merlin hated it. He felt like he was continually reaching for something only to find it gone, as if he were climbing stairs and overestimating how many there were, expecting one too many and then finding his foot falling through air, crashing to the hard stone with a jolt. A hundred times a day he found himself reaching for Arthur’s bright resonance and falling short.
He didn’t know when Arthur’s presence had become so important to him, and somehow he didn’t care. He just missed the prince whenever he was gone, and worried about him constantly. And if, when Arthur was gone, Gaius had to call his name several times before he managed to get Merlin’s attention, or if he didn’t hear Gwen talking to him until she actually touched his arm and made him jump, well - it was just that he was busy and distracted. Nothing more.
When Arthur was in Camelot, Merlin spent most of his days running after the prince. They were almost always together, Arthur ordering Merlin around and Merlin answering back, bickering companionably as Arthur trained the knights or Merlin polished armour. It was so comfortable to spend time in the prince’s presence, so unbelievably easy to hear his voice over the constant background din that Merlin made every effort to spent as much time with Arthur as possible.
Of course, this made Arthur’s frequent trips away even harder to bear. Compared to listening to the prince, Merlin was now much more aware of how much of an effort he had to make just to hear other people speak over the unrelenting noise of the busy castle. It also helped that something about being around the prince also made it more easy to concentrate on the real world. It was as though Arthur’s familiar music took up enough of his attention that it distracted the part of Merlin that was always listening to the songs, and let the rest of him interact with the real world. When Arthur was away on patrol, Merlin found that somehow he always had a headache.
As the song of winter grew louder, north wind blowing fierce and strong and reminiscent of King Uther, Merlin found it was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on the world. The music rang in his ears as he did his chores, just as it always had but somehow more distracting now. The frequent headaches grew worse.
Arthur returned from another trip away, and suddenly Merlin found he was staring at the prince’s mouth whenever he spoke. He didn’t know what to make of it, until he realised that he was staring at Gaius’s mouth as the old man berated him about something or another, and started to pay more attention to where he was looking. That was how Merlin discovered that whenever he spoke to anyone, he watched their mouth, reading the words from their lips instead of hearing their voices. And when Arthur spoke, because Merlin did not need the extra assistance, only then had he that noticed he was staring at all.
Trips to collect herbs for Gaius became Merlin’s favourite part of the day. He had always relished his time alone with the song of the forest, but now it was a chance to escape the deafening thrum of the castle and the near-constant headache. And if it was a time where he was alone and had no need to concentrate to hear what people were saying to him, well, that was all to the good and probably helped as well. Merlin deliberately did not consider that the strain to hear words over the music could also be the reason for his headache.
And then one morning Merlin woke to find the song of the city overlain with the quiet, constant, beautiful song of fresh white snow. He rushed to open his window, throwing the shutters wide to let the sun stream through, staring down on the snow-covered town and glorying in the beauty of the sight and the sound.
There was whiteness everywhere, singing clean and bright and joyful from every direction. Merlin couldn’t resist letting the sound wash over him, enveloping him, the music sweeping into every part of his mind. It cascaded through him like a river, gentle at first, singing golden and happy and bright, growing steadily stronger. Louder. Soon Merlin could hear nothing else. There was just music. A frisson of fear went through him, and he tried to focus his suddenly-blurring eyesight. But the music was overwhelmingly strong now, a mighty roaring in his ears, an unstoppable torrent of sound and magic flooding through him and washing everything away until there was nothing but white and gold and music. Merlin felt like he was drowning in light, and everything else was fading away. Even as he reached out for the reality he could only just remember, it was gone as though it had never existed. Time no longer had any meaning. There had never been anything but music. There could never be anything else but this golden existence.
“Merlin!”
Arthur’s voice cut through the beauty, jerking Merlin sharply back into reality. His mind reeled with the suddenness of the awakening, the alien feel of stone beneath his fingers and cloth against his skin, the strange variety of colours as the room swam back into focus. For a moment he felt utterly lost. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and looked around. Gaius, Gwen and Arthur were all standing in his room, and all three were staring at him. The music was quieter now, the magic calmed by Arthur’s bright presence. Merlin blinked, searched for words he was sure he had known once.
“...what?” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What are you all doing here?”
Gwen looked worried, and her lips were moving. Merlin concentrated hard, trying to hear what she was saying. “Gaius said he came in almost an hour ago to wake you, and you were just staring out the window. I came to meet you as usual, and he was in here trying to get your attention, but we couldn’t get you to respond. Then Arthur came looking for you, because you were so late, he just got here and then you woke up. Are you feeling okay? Is there something wrong?”
Merlin rubbed his face, staring blankly at his friends and trying to focus on the world around him rather than the music in his head. “Um....”
The music was beguiling, but he tried not to listen. He could remember struggling uselessly against the torrent of noise - if Arthur hadn’t been able to call him back to himself, how long would he have been lost for? Would he ever have been able to come back? Or would he have faded into nothing, a dying note unmissed in the bright symphony?
As his mind wandered, the music tugged at his attention, trying to pull him away again. He fought to keep his focus on the people in front of him, focusing on Arthur’s song, letting its simple harmony ground him to the real world.
And then Arthur’s voice cut straight through all the noise, blessedly easy to hear. Merlin had never been so relieved to hear anything in his entire life. “What is wrong with you, Merlin? Are you ill? Or just completely deaf this morning?”
“I - sorry, I was just. Um. Lost in my own head, I guess.”
“Well, there’s enough empty space in there that I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised!” Arthur snarled.
Gaius jumped in at that point. “Are your ears still giving you trouble, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked in confusion. “What?”
Gaius glared meaningfully at him. “You were complaining about your ears last night, remember? I thought you might be getting an infection, and that would explain what happened this morning. How are they feeling now?”
Gwen’s look turned sympathetic. “Oh, yes, Merlin, you do look pale. Though you are normally fairly pale - not that I’m saying that’s a bad thing!”
Merlin tried to smile reassuringly at her. He hadn’t heard every single word she’d said, but he had gotten most of it. It was easier to understand people if he focused on Arthur, somehow - the spring of the prince’s song was a strange contrast to the bright chiming snow all around him, but the unusual dichotomy was oddly easy to let play underneath the words, instead of over the top of them.
The prince was still staring at him, frowning.
“Maybe you should take the day off, if you’re not well,” Gaius suggested, but the idea of not being around Arthur sent a bolt of fear through Merlin. If the prince left, he might get lost in the snow-song again, and not be able to find his way back.
“No! No, I’m sure its fine. I’m fine. I’ll just...” He fished frantically for clean clothes, looking for enough layers to keep him warm in the cold air outside and hoping he hadn’t left the magic book anywhere obvious (again).
“Are you sure?” Gaius gave him the eyebrow look, but right now Merlin was much more worried about losing the world again than he was of any kind of disapproval, and he was soon stumbling towards the training yards after Arthur, wishing he’d not lost so much time as to be forced to skip breakfast.
The morning passed in a whirlwind of confusion. Merlin tried his hardest to concentrate on the world around him, closing his ears to the music and focusing on the cold air biting his face as he watched the knights train, or on the solid reality of the metal in his hands as he sharpened a sword. The prince kept him nearby, to Merlin’s relief, though Arthur kept shooting him strange looks, a frown on his face. Merlin tried his best to appear healthy, innocent, and focused.
Fortunately, the day was easier than he had expected - strangely, somehow a large part of his chores were done before he got to them. When he went to muck out the stables, he found they had already been done, and the floors in Arthur’s chambers were still damp with scrubbing when he got to them. It was a bit odd, as he didn’t know who would have gained access to the room without the prince’s permission, but when he asked Arthur all he got was a glare for his trouble. “Stop worrying, Merlin. You sound like an old woman. Now sit down and polish my amour.”
Merlin spent most of the afternoon in the prince’s chambers, polishing old pieces of armour that Arthur had suddenly decided needed to be spotless, even though he hadn’t used any of them for months. It was an easy task, and the prince’s near-constant company was reassuring. But when Arthur had to go to a council meeting, Merlin had to swallow against the fear thickening in his throat, clutching a pauldron tight to hide his shaking fingers. It would be so easy to let the music sweep him away again, to lose himself in the beautiful symphony. He could so easily be lost, without Arthur nearby to keep him safe.
There was nothing he could do, though, and for the few hours he was alone he tried to close his ears even further. The cold metal in his hands helped, and he found himself reaching out for the reassurance that was Arthur’s distant song every few minutes, letting it anchor him to the real world.
But he did not lose himself again, and the comfort of having the prince nearby made him feel safe, less fragile, less completely foreign and at odds with the world. Because really, getting lost like this was about as ridiculous as it was terrifying - but Merlin couldn’t stop his hands trembling whenever he considered what might have happened had Arthur not come to find him that morning.
The beauty of the music now seemed sinister.
That evening, Gaius scowled worriedly across the table as they ate. It was harder to concentrate without Arthur around, but Merlin was more comfortable being without the prince immediately nearby now, still reaching for him every so often for reassurance but feeling more confident after not having gotten lost at all that afternoon. He did his best to answer the urgent questions as he ate.
“You say that you didn’t notice the time passing?” Gaius pressed, eyebrow demonstrating his concern.
“No! One minute I was opening the shutters, and then Arthur was calling my name. I have no idea how a whole hour could have passed, I didn’t notice anything at all.”
“That is strange. And you say you couldn’t focus on the real world?”
Merlin nodded. “I was lost, Gaius. I couldn’t get back.” He looked down, and then back up again. “I tried, but it was too strong, I just... couldn’t.”
Gaius frowned. “This is worrying. If you could get lost at any time, how are we going to keep you safe?”
“I don’t know!” Merlin said desperately, leaning forward on his elbows. “What can I do? I can’t risk getting lost and not being able to get back! And people are going to notice if I can’t hear them!”
“For now, the priority is keeping your secret and keeping you as grounded as possible,” Gaius told him. “Is there anything apart from Arthur’s voice that helps? Food, cold, touch? None of those worked this morning, but if they could help prevent another attack…”
“Well…,” Merlin pondered. “I guess... I guess people touching me helps? Or at least it has before, even if it didn’t this morning. Arthur being around is best though, his resonance is really grounding - just like the dragon, and his voice helps even more. The problem with other things is their music is just as likely to be distracting as they are to be helpful. Though maybe...”
“Wait,” Gaius interrupted. “You said the dragon was grounding? It helped you?”
“Yes. His song was always in the background, and it really useful for whenever I needed to focus. And his voice is audible in the same way as Arthur’s.” Merlin paused for a moment, then continued. “Do you think that might be why this is happening now? Because the dragon is no longer hidden under the castle?” Merlin leaned back, not sure if he hoped he was right or not.
“It certainly would make sense.” Gaius said, looking thoughtful. “You have only started having trouble after you sent the beast away from Camelot. And now with the prince away frequently, the only other centering force you have is not always present. It makes sense that you would start to have difficulties.”
Merlin nodded, and then frowned. “But what can we do about it? We can hardly bring the dragon back, because someone would definitely notice that. And if I keep hanging around Arthur, eventually he’s going to get suspicious.”
“Well, you do normally spend a large part of your day with the prince anyway, and you are managing well enough with him on the other side of the castle now. We just need to make sure you are not exposed to anything that could overwhelm you without him being nearby, and find a way to make sure you go with him on patrol.”
Merlin groaned with frustration. “Oh, is that all? Great, no problems at all then! That’ll be easy. Oh, Arthur, I’m just going to follow you like a pet dog wherever you go, don’t mind me. And if I seem to be a bit vague, just hit me upside the head and I’ll be fine. Easy as that!”
“Merlin, please,” Gaius glared at him. “I am trying my best to help you.”
Merlin sighed, slumping down to hold his head in his hands. “I know, I know. Sorry.”
Gaius reached out and patted his arm. “I’m sure we’ll work something out. For now, just do the best you can and I’ll see what I can come up with. All right?”
Merlin nodded. “All right, Gaius, thank you. And if I get lost again, just - I don’t know. Please make sure I come back.”
“I won’t let you stay lost, Merlin, don’t worry. We’ll work it out.”
Not really reassured, Merlin took himself off to bed and lay in the dark, trying to ignore the now-ominous singing of the world around him.
~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~
For the next few days, Merlin stuck as close to Arthur as he could and tried to ignore the music as much as he was able. The prince didn’t seem to notice anything different, or if he did, he didn’t object.
And then one afternoon, Merlin opened the window in Arthur’s chambers to let in some fresh air. The snow chimed in welcome, and all of Camelot just glowed in the soft sunshine, ringing with bright beauty, and he was lost. There was only light, and sound, and all the rest fell away.
A small part of him struggled, fighting against the overwhelming glory that drowned out any capacity conscious thought, protesting the loss of... what? Surely there had never been anything but the song, and the light, and there never could be anything else because what could equal this? But even as that tiny part screamed in terror, it was fading, lost beneath the power and glory of the music, swelling louder still until
“Merlin!”
and he came crashing back into reality, his name on Arthur’s lips like an anchor, the prince’s voice pulling at the centre of his chest and forcing him back to the world. It was like waking from a dream of falling just before he hit the ground, to find himself somehow caught, and safe. He gasped for breath, panting at the shock of his return, and Arthur’s hands were on his shoulders, real and solid, rubbing his back and gently manoeuvring him to sit while the familiar, comforting voice grumbled about his uselessness.
Merlin, still gasping, looked up into Arthur’s worried eyes and wondered how they got to be so blue. “Thank you,” he managed. And he was grateful, so unbelievably grateful, he had never been so grateful for anything in his life.
“What? What are you talking about, Merlin?”
Merlin looked down again, trying to catch his breath, mind still a whirl of panic, fear, thankfulness and music. He tried to reign in his racing thoughts, tried to focus, and something floated to the top. He looked back up at the frowning prince, and smiled. “I’m glad that it’s you.”
Arthur blinked at him, still frowning. “What are you on about, Merlin?” His hands were still on Merlin’s back, rubbing gently, and his tone was exasperated as he continued, “You imbecile, you’re obviously still unwell from whatever it was the other day, why aren’t taking time off like any sensible person would? Of course, I know you aren’t anything remotely resembling sensible, but I can’t believe Gaius let you out if you’re sick. You could be contagious, and I’m sure making the crown prince ill is a crime, I could have you in the stocks for this, you idiot. No, don’t try to get up!”
Merlin tried to fight off the strong grip that keeping him in the chair. “I’m fine! Really, it was just a passing dizzy spell, I’m better, honest, it was nothing.”
“You are staying here until Gaius checks you over. No arguments.” Arthur crossed to the door, sticking his head out into the corridor and ordering a passing servant to bring the court physician, at once, and hurry up about it.
Merlin let his head fall back against the chair, breath still coming a little fast, fighting against the fear swirling in his gut. Arthur obviously didn’t think sorcery was to blame for his servant’s ‘dizzy spell’, which was a relief, but Merlin was still rather desperately anxious that it would happen again. He’d been hoping, after a few days had passed, that the first time had just been a fluke - a one-time occurrence that he could forget had ever happened. But it seemed that it was not, and he was going to need to be much, much more careful in the future.
And then Gaius was there, green and familiar and fussing, taking Merlin back to his room and making him spend the rest of the day reading huge tomes looking for anything that might be an answer.
“What if you blocked your ears? That way you wouldn’t be able to hear the music.”
“Then I couldn’t hear anything else either, which hardly helps! And I think my ears don’t really matter for the music, half the time it feels like I hear it in my head instead of through my ears. That’s why it’s so loud.”
“If the music is magical in origin, maybe something that blocked magic would block the noise...” Gaius mused, rubbing his chin.
“There are things that do that? Block magic?” Merlin asked, surprised.
“Oh, yes. They were instrumental in the great purge - stopping the more powerful from escaping or from using their powers to hurt the king’s men. Powerful magic objects themselves, naturally, they have their roots in the Old Religion. I believe there are some articles still stored in the vaults that block all access to magical power.”
“All access? So - so I wouldn’t hear anything at all, if it worked?”
“Why yes, Merlin. You would be like any other person, no magic at all, not hearing anything apart from the normal sounds of every-day life.”
Gaius had barely finished speaking before Merlin was shaking his head, raising trembling hands as if to ward off an attacker, eyes wide and voice loud. “NO. No, no, not ever, no, oh gods, no.”
Gaius looked surprised at the fear in Merlin’s voice. “Really? I thought it rather a good idea - it would certainly solve the problem of your losing yourself, and it would probably fix the headaches as well. You’d be able to take off the blocking device whenever you needed to do magic. I think it could work quite well.”
An involuntary shudder swept through Merlin’s body, and another. “Nothing could be worse than silence, Gaius. I don’t care if I get lost again, I don’t care if I never come back!” He ducked his head, wrapping his arms around himself, shaking his head. “Not hearing anything... existing in silence? No. I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t bear - it would be like being dead! No, no, I - no. No, not ever. No.”
“If it scares you so much, my boy, then of course we will try to find another way.” Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s shaking shoulder, trying to reassure him. “I had no idea that silence scared you so much, you never mentioned it before. We will find a different solution, I promise.”
Merlin looked up and tried to smile, but his voice was still shaking. “Thanks, Gaius. I guess the - the silence thing, it never came up.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know how you can bear to live without hearing, live with silence. I don’t care what the risks are, anything is better than that.”
“Then we will find another way.” Gaius reassured him.
Merlin nodded, lowering his head and trying to quell the fear gnawing at his belly. There would be another way, because there had to be. Anything was better than silence.
~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~ ♫ ~ ♪ ~
Much later that night, Merlin couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and then sat up, rubbing his face. He was so used to the soft humming of the city lulling him as he drowsed off, trying to ignore it made it falling asleep nearly impossible.
Almost without a thought, he got up and pulled on a coat, slipping easily past a softly-snoring Gaius to wander aimlessly through the chilly corridors of the quiet castle.
His feet led him along a familiar path, and he stopped at the top of the dungeon stairs before deciding that the cave beneath the castle was as good a place as any to mope undisturbed. Getting past the guards was as easy as ever, and soon he was sitting on the ledge, kicking his feet over the huge space and wondering at how empty it seemed without the dragon-song echoing from the walls.
But somehow, to Merlin’s confusion, there was still a soft, faint ringing of dragon coming from the rocks below. He climbed down the stairs, listening carefully for the fire-and-mountain resonance, and there it was. A scale, about the size of his palm, probably shed months ago, still softly humming with the song of the dragon. Merlin picked it up, running his fingers over the rough, hard surface and letting the music of it centre him and hold him safe.
The next morning, Gaius was sceptical. “You can’t expect to just carry it around in your pocket! What if you lose it? What if it is discovered? How do you explain why you are carrying a dragon scale around?
“So maybe it’s not a permanent solution, but it works for now,” Merlin argued. “Surely that’s enough?”
“Hmmmm,” Gaius remained unconvinced. “I want you to stay as close to the prince as possible anyway. If I teach you more about the basics of healing, that will give you a good enough reason to go with Arthur when he patrols, and then you may not even need the scale.”
“All right.” Merlin agreed, though he was not looking forward to the extra lessons he had no doubt Gaius was going to pile on him. The dragon scale was brilliant, he was sure, and would work perfectly. He didn’t need to worry any more.
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It was a relief to be able to accompany Arthur on his various missions and patrols. Merlin bickered contentedly with the prince as they travelled, enjoying the new sights and sounds and the comforting familiarity that was Arthur, the scale tucked safely in his pack just in case. The prince seemed happy enough with Merlin following him almost everywhere, and the castle was already used to the sight of the two of them joined at the hip, arguing as they crossed the courtyard or teasing each other on the training grounds. And if Merlin was happiest when Arthur was nearby, well, that was because of the magic, of course.
Months passed, and Merlin made sure to take the scale with him everywhere he went, even with Arthur around. He still struggled to hear voices, and there always seemed to be a headache hovering somewhere around his temples, but he didn’t get lost again and that was enough for him to be content.
There was still no sign of Morgana. Uther refused to stop searching for her, but Merlin was secretly relieved whenever the patrol returned without having found any trace. He hoped Morgause had taken her far away, and that he would never hear either of them again.
Of course, only weeks after Merlin had finally convinced himself that they were gone for good, Morgana came staggering out of the forest, dishevelled and terrified, ringing oh-so-familiar, her eagle-song sounding just as it always had.
And she said she forgave him. For a short while, Merlin let himself believe that it was all going to be alright again.
It took him far too long to realise the magical nature of the eerie discordance that was Uther’s madness, and when he did the knowledge of his role in turning Morgana into Camelot’s betrayer burned like fire in his chest. The guilt was suffocating, overwhelming, and he struggled against it as he fought Morgause’s chains. But he was as helpless against the guilt as he was against the high ringing chains which bound him tight and distracted him with their piercing song, making it so much harder to keep the giant insects away.
Seeing Kilgharrah again after so long was a relief, and Merlin let the dragon’s fire-and-mountain music wash over him and comfort him, safe in the knowledge that he was with the only other being in the world, apart from Arthur, who could recall him to himself. And if the dragon knew what his presence, or his absence, had meant for Merlin, he did not mention it.
It was nice to know, when he finally got back to Camelot, that Arthur had missed him - even if the prat had a poor way of showing it. And then Cenred was attacking the castle and Merlin had to focus so as not to get swept away by the loud mass of humanity clamouring at the gates.
The silent undead skeletons were easy to miss in the roar of the battle raging around them, and Merlin had to listen hard to find the source of the magic. Facing Morgana in the crypt hurt more than he thought it would, her song so familiar and her words so full of hate.
After the battle was won, though, it seemed that the lines were drawn and things went back to some vague semblance of normal. Merlin tried to avoid Morgana as much as he could, and if that meant spending less time in Arthur’s company, well, at least he had the scale to keep him safe for now. Strange things still happened with a startling regularity, but then that was fairly standard for Camelot anyway.
Meeting Gwaine in the tavern was much more fun than any other odd, dangerous things that seemed to happen around Arthur. The other man rang with the cheeky happiness of a magpie, but somehow deeper and more complex as well, with shades of the capricious west wind weaving themselves in and out of the song. A small part of Merlin wanted to sit and listen to him for hours, just trying to hear all the secret aspects of the music he was sure were there under the surface. Of course, it helped that the man was gorgeous. Merlin might be a little distant from the real world at the best of times, but he certainly wasn’t blind, not when there was a fit, half-naked man in his bed, smiling at him in that disarming way.
Gwaine's Song
Gwaine didn’t stay long, but Merlin had hopes of seeing him again one day. Hopefully soon.
Then there was Taliesin, who seemed somehow muted, as if he was not really there, but maybe that was just because the crystals in the cave were so loud. The sheer strength of the cave-song made his head spin, the symphony of past, present and future twining sinuously through his mind and making it hard to focus on anything but the music. Merlin tried not to think about how certain he was that if he hadn’t had the dragon-scale in his pocket, he would probably never have found his way out of the cave again. And then that future came to pass, everything happening just as he had heard that it would, and Merlin despaired, hating destiny and hating a world that showed him these things and left him powerless to change them.
Elena was a sweet-sounding girl, though she always seemed somehow out of tune - as though here were a second song beneath her resonance that Merlin couldn’t quite hear until he and Gaius discovered the Sidhe’s plans and released the changeling inside her. Elyan sounded like the clanging iron that was his trade as a blacksmith, and Merlin was glad they were able to rescue him successfully from the smirking raven-Cenred despite all Morgana’s attempts to thwart them.
Seeing Gwaine again was a delight, and questing with both him and Arthur was the most fun Merlin had had in ages, even with the dead-sounding Perilous Lands and the poor Fisher King alone in the desolate castle. The water in the jar sounded just like what it was - water, nothing to mark it as different from any other. Merlin tucked it away safely, though, just in case.
Time rolled by, strange things happened, and life went on as usual. Merlin kept the scale with him and felt safe. He still tried to ignore the music as much as he could, though, and was careful never to immerse himself in it, the way he had done so often in the past. It was better to be safe, even if he mourned the loss that glorious beauty, fiercely, missing it like he would one of his limbs.
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And then Leon almost died. Merlin could hardly believe that the only thing that saved him was that cup, the one Merlin had thought safely lost on the Isle of the Blessed, out of reach and hopefully forgotten by all. And then he and Arthur were off on a quest once again, Arthur sounding bright and confident, happy to be on the road, and Merlin happy to be with Arthur.
Getting captured by slave-traders was not exactly part of the plan, even though finding Gwaine was almost enough of a pleasure to make up for the inconvenience. If Merlin had tucked the dragon scale into a pocket of his breeches, safe and hidden and secret, instead of slipping in the rest of the baggage with the royal seal and stash of coin, it would have been. If they had not had to flee for their lives with only the clothes on their backs, he would have had no qualms about the whole experience and would have enjoyed the oddly melodious harmony that was Arthur-and-Gwaine running through the forest.
Unfortunately, this was not what happened.
Merlin had to hide his shaking hands as he leaned against the tree, still out of breath. He was safe, Arthur was safe, Gwaine was safe. The loss of their possessions should be insignificant considering how close they’d come to being killed by the slavers. Merlin had to bite back a groan of frustration and fear. He had known being so reliant on the scale was a bad idea, that having such a crutch could only end badly - as it had. But he still hadn’t found any way of grounding himself that did not involve either the dragon scale or the crown prince. At least Arthur was still there, panting, resonating obliviously as he clipped Merlin over the head for telling Gwaine about the cup.
The song of the forest surged around them, pretty and distracting. It was probably only the fear that made everything seem louder, wilder, that made him think that the music twining around the edges of his awareness anything like a cat stalking a wing-damaged bird. He shook his head, trying to quash the panic slowly uncoiling in his chest and focus on the real world. Arthur. Arthur was there. That would be enough. That would have to be enough.
The cave sounded far too comfortable and familiar for Merlin’s peace of mind, the druids blending into their place in song as effectively as they hid from sight. And when they did emerge, earthy and disquietingly peaceful, it was to be surprisingly accommodating. Merlin felt as suspicious as Arthur looked when the druid handed over the pure, resonant cup without a fight.
He did have to suppress a shudder when they addressed him as Emrys, though, the words echoing through his head and sending ice sliding down his spine. It was one thing to have Mordred name him such in the privacy of their own minds, but to hear the druids address him so with the prince standing right there felt like much more of a risk - even if he knew Arthur couldn’t hear them.
It all seemed too easy, really, and Merlin pondered this as he tried hard not to listen to the melodious woods around them, or the rather loud cup tucked into Arthur’s belt, focusing on his sight and touch, and on Arthur’s song. This turned out to be a mistake, as he was so busy trying to be distracted that he missed the soldiers surrounding them, and suddenly they were running for their lives from Cenred’s soldiers. Arthur was collapsing with an arrow in his leg and the cup was singing radiantly as it flew through the air. Merlin reached for it, trying to twist its song to here, but something in the essence of the metal resisted his attempts and instead it was rolling into the hands of the soldiers, and then it was gone and Arthur was lying unmoving on the ground.
The poison from the arrow flowed insidiously through Arthur’s veins, stealing his strength and tainting his song with disharmony. It made Merlin wince to hear the prince’s bright song sound so wrong. He had to keep his hands from shaking as he tried all he could to force it back into tune, trying any word-spell he could think of when Gwaine was gone, or just keeping his eyes averted while he pushed at the faltering resonance, desperately shoving Arthur towards health.
He did not let himself think about what might happen if Arthur’s song faded for too long, or if the fever-wracked prince did not get better.
Waking the next morning to Arthur’s grumpy sniping was an incredible relief. Not even the growing dread as they made slow progress back to Camelot, and worry for the prince’s wound, could completely stifle the bubble of happiness Merlin felt at Arthur not being dead - until they crested the hill and saw the smoke billowing up from the mighty turret, and he heard the low, horrible, throbbing discordance of the cup filled with blood echoed through the city.
But apart from that low, constant, terrible thrum, the castle seemed strangely silent, with very little to indicate the presence of an occupying army. Merlin puzzled over this until he realised how oddly quiet the immortal soldiers were, somehow muted in a way that reminded Merlin of Taliesin - as though they were not really there at all. Nonetheless, they were easy enough to avoid as the three of them crept through the empty streets, past the silent bodies of Camelot’s men. Arthur’s leg was much worse now, and Merlin could only hope, desperately, that he would be able to get something from Gaius’s chambers that might help.
They found Elyan alive and unharmed, ringing metal song filling the small house and Merlin had to quell his discomfort at Arthur’s evident concern for Gwen, reminding himself that she was his friend and this was really, really not the time. Getting into the occupied citadel was easier than it might have been, and finding Gaius was a relief. But Merlin would have done anything, anything at all, to prevent that look of broken-hearted despair on Arthur’s face when he saw Morgana wearing his father’s crown.
The cave was a comforting, earthy hum, strategic in its location and fortunately not too overwhelming for Merlin. He did his best to encourage his despondent prince as he tried to work out how to deal with the powerful magic protecting Morgana’s throne - while also making sure he didn’t get lost in the overwhelming music of the woods and the knights. Gwaine was a wonderful friend, but his song was really very distracting.
The water from the Fisher King, when spilled, rang with the peaceful, familiar song of a high mountain lake. It sounded just like Freya had, when she had been alive, and Merlin fought back tears as she told him how to defeat the undead soldiers. The soft music washed over him gently, soothing him like she had, and for the first time in days he felt himself relaxing.
“There is but one weapon that can slay something that is already dead.” Her voice was faint, and he had to concentrate hard to hear it. “Anyone who toys with the cup pays a terrible price. The moment they entered into their pact with Morgause, they became the living dead.”
The strange, muted resonance of the soldiers suddenly made sense. Merlin felt relief surge through him. This would not be easy, but it could be done.
Summoning Kilgharrah made him feel even better. The dragon’s song was familiar and strong, its reassuring beauty making Merlin feel safe again. Retrieving Excalibur was easy enough with Kilgharrah’s help, and the bright fire of the sword’s song was encouraging.
But then the dragon was leaving again and Merlin had to command him to stay, to hear Merlin’s second request. But when Merlin asked for another scale, the response was not what he expected.
The dragon glared balefully at him. “You have brought your current plight upon yourself. You used my scale in a way that was never intended.”
“What else can I do? I can’t get lost in the music, not when Arthur needs me!”
“You and the young Pendragon are two parts of the same harmony. One part is meaningless without the other. When your melodies are truly entwined, you will no longer need any part of me to keep you safe.”
Great, thought Merlin, more cryptic and unhelpful riddles. “But that doesn’t help me now!”
Kilgharrah was already flying away, as he always did after giving utterly useless advice, but lying on the ground where he had been was a small sliver of dragon-claw, small and sharp and humming with bright, saving resonance. Merlin picked it up gratefully and turned it over in his hands, wincing when the sharp point cut painfully into his thumb. He tucked it into his pocket and sucked at the cut, trying not to think too carefully about what the dragon might have meant by ‘truly entwined’.
And then suddenly, amazingly, Gwen and Leon were there, and the enemy had found them. Then somehow Lancelot was there as well, and with him a new man who sounded solid and reliable and somehow like the strong rock foundations on which mighty things were built, and together they were escaping the muted soldiers to retreat to an abandoned castle.
The round table rang with a song louder and fiercer than a mere table should, and Merlin wondered what it had been used for in the past - and how important it would be in the future. He looked around at the companions sitting with him, and now that he felt safe in the dragon’s protection, he let the music wash over him as he had not for far, far too long.
It was a symphony. Powerful and strong, each note both complemented the others and augmented them, the individual songs weaving together into a perfect tapestry of sound. Merlin let the harmony sweep over him. From the familiarity of Arthur’s bright-burning fire-and-spring, Gwen’s warm flowers and Gaius’s green forest-song, to the pure-water that was Lancelot and the dependable earth of Leon, the happy tickling breeze of Gwaine, the ringing clang of Elyan and the firm solidity of Percival.
It was a good balance, a strong one. Merlin was pleased. He smiled at his prince, his future king, delighting in the hope in his eyes, and began to plan his own strategy for the attack on Camelot.
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Her sister was lying limp and lifeless on the cold floor. Blood trickled down the wall, and the cup of life rocked gently, emptied of the blood that had been the foundation of her reign.
One of the first things the late and unlamented King Cenred had taught Morgana, in the long months she’d spent as a guest in his citadel with him and her sister, learning everything they had to teach her, was that one should always have a back-up plan, a second option, a secret escape known only to oneself. No matter what, you should always leave yourself a way out.
Morgan had not forgotten the dream of Gwen and Arthur, smiling and radiant on Camelot’s throne.
After she took the throne, after the prisoners had been escorted back to the dungeon, after her immortal army was installed in the castle, she went with Morgause to the castle vaults. The cold, cobwebbed, echoing cellars had been just as unpleasant as she remembered. She tried to avoid looking at the crystal lying on its velvet cushion, instead trailing fingers over the dusty shelves and peering at the mysterious boxes.
Morgause smiled as she looked around her. “This is most excellent, sister. We will be able to restore many magical artefacts to their rightful masters. A great victory for the Old Religion, and a blow to Uther and his tyranny.”
Morgana left the management of the vault’s treasures to her sister, instead focusing on tightening her grasp on the fragile threads that were the web of Camelot’s politics. Many things were taken from the castle, distributed to allies or moved to a more secure location. And it turned out that this was just as well.
“It’s over, Morgana.” Merlin’s voice was cold, echoing in the hall that had been filled with her men only minutes before. Gaius moved to stand behind him, face blank and implacable.
“No, you’re wrong! It is just begun.”
Cradling her sister in her arms, Morgana let the fury she felt surge out of her, the tingling, burning magic gushing from the well deep inside her as she screamed.
She had not forgotten Cenred’s advice.
“NO!”
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To Part Four