Dóchas Part 6
As it turns out, Gwen and Lance are away with family, so it’s just Arthur and Morgana who bundle onto the train on the way to Armagh. Merlin meets them at the train station; beside him is a woman who Arthur takes to be Hunith, and a man who Arthur believes is Will. Merlin greets them both with hugs, followed by Hunith, who hugs them both, and kisses them on the cheek.
“Welcome dears. I’m glad you could make it,” she says warmly.
“It’s our pleasure.” Arthur smiles. “Thank you for letting us come up to visit.”
Will steps up next; he shakes Morgana’s hand, and then regards Arthur critically.
“So, I hear you’re trying to lure Merlin to the dark side,” he eventually says.
“We have cookies.” Arthur grins in reply.
“Ha! Good luck with it.” Will laughs.
The group makes their way back to Hunith’s, and settle in - Morgana in the spare room, and Arthur on a blow-up mattress in Merlin’s room. The party that night is loud and merry - cheesy 80s tunes blast from a record player in the sitting room, Derek Mooney leads the celebrations on RTE, and there’s plenty of food and drink. As midnight approaches, everyone spills out to the back garden, where one of the neighbours, Edwin, has arranged a fireworks display.
“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
Everyone cheers and hugs as Edwin lights the fireworks, and Arthur finds himself in a group hug with Merlin, Will and Morgana, singing ‘Auld Lang Sang’. Afterwards, everyone crowds back into the sitting room, for the favourite of party pastimes: singing. Another neighbour, Leon, whips out a guitar and starts off with “The Fields of Athenry,” everyone joining in for the rousing chorus. Afterwards, requests are called out, everything from Johnny Cash to The Rolling Stones to The Animals, and at one point Will drunkenly yells out, “Britney Spears!” Leon immediately complies, playing ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time,’ while Will shimmies around the floor and everyone cheers him on. The party starts to die down around 4am, and Arthur and Merlin stumble sleepily to bed around 6am.
“Happy New Year,” Merlin whispers as he climbs into bed. “I’m really glad you came.”
“Me too,” Arthur says happily, snuggling under his duvet. “Night.”
The next day, Will turns up, his face ashen.
“Will, what’s wrong?” Merlin asks worriedly.
“Daithi’s dead,” Will says numbly.
Merlin’s hand covers his mouth, and he then pulls Will into a fierce hug. “Oh Will, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, he died as he lived; battling the bubble clam.”
“That’s good.”
“Who’s Daithi?” Arthur asks, as Will goes hunting for chocolate.
“Will’s goldfish,” Merlin replies. “It was the last thing his dad gave him before he died.”
“Daithi was amazing!” Will wails around a mouthful of Cadburys.
“Then there’s only one thing to do,” Arthur says, clapping Will on the shoulder. “We’ll give him a proper send off: wake tonight and funeral tomorrow.”
About ten people gather in Will’s that night; Will’s sitting by the table, on top of which is a biscuit tin, lined with a pillowcase, and Daithi inside. Arthur can’t help staring at first: Daithi is HUGE and purple, with giant bulging eyes. He’s a very impressive-looking fish.
The wake goes as all wakes do: at the start, everyone sits around, murmuring between themselves and sipping on their drinks. Will can’t move, so people bring him drinks as they offer their condolences. As the night progresses, everyone’s getting steadily more and more drunk. The lamentations grow louder and wilder, and someone starts singing an old Irish song about a lost mermaid. In the middle of a rendition of ‘Nearer My God to Thee,’ Arthur suddenly has a BRILLIANT IDEA. As the song finishes, he clambers up on a chair, wobbles precariously, and then shouts, “It’s time for a decade of the rosary in honour of poor Daithi. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!”
Everyone follows suit, and Arthur starts belting out Hail Mary’s, everyone else shouting out the response. To Arthur, it’s as much for Daithi and Will, as it is for Merlin, who’s looking at him as if he hung the moon. Arthur maintains eye contact with him as he finishes up the decade, and then bows, hops down off the chair, and saunters over to Merlin.
“Arthur!” Merlin says, both please and astonished. “You learnt the rosary!”
“You inspired me,” Arthur winks, and throws an arm around Merlin’s shoulder, feeling brash and confident.
Merlin leans ever-so-slightly into the touch and so Arthur leaves it there for the rest of the night.
The next day is a sombre affair. Everyone gathers in the garden, as Merlin, forced into a black shirt and paper white collar, says a few prayers over the now-closed biscuit box. When he’s done, Will places the box in the hole some people had dug the night before, and covers it up, sniffing loudly.
“May his soul rest in peace.”
Afterwards, everyone agrees that a fry-up is the needed thing, and as Merlin is apparently the best, he’s sent off to the kitchen to get the food cooked, while everyone else gathers in the sitting room to play cards. After a few rounds of poker, Arthur decides to go help, and makes his way out to the kitchen. He freezes though, just before the kitchen door, as he hears voices - Will’s and Merlin’s - speaking, and his name being mentioned. Edging closer, he listens to what they’re saying, his curiosity overcoming his respect for privacy.
“I know you’ve got your whole, ‘I don’t fancy anyone’ thing, but Arthur doesn’t, and HE, fancies YOU,” Will argues.
“No he doesn’t,” Merlin replies, sounding annoyed. “We’re just friends.”
“Sure sure, you’re just friends who hug and share meaningful glances,” Will snorts. “I mean, have you even seen yourself around him? You look at him like he’s the best thing since sliced bread! Anyone would swear that… well, DO you fancy him?”
There’s a pause, in which Arthur’s heart leaps right into his throat… only to go plummeting back down as Merlin replies firmly, “No. I’m going to become a priest Will, and even IF Arthur does fancy me, he knows that.”
Arthur feels something small and fragile deep inside him break, and he shuffles off to the back garden, where he finds Morgana indulging in a stolen cigarette. He wordlessly sits beside her and steals a drag, then curls up, staring blankly ahead.
“Arthur? There’s something… I don’t know if this is the best time but… I saw you’ve been with Merlin lately, and-”
“Save it Morgana,” Arthur interrupts morosely, “I know. He’s going to become a priest, there’s no point in having feelings for him.”
“Yeah,” Morgana says sadly. “You should try and find someone else yeah? I don’t want you to get hung up on this and get hurt.”
She pushes her second smoke and lighter into his hands, kisses him on the cheek, and goes back inside. Arthur smokes the cigarette quickly, willing his problems away with the smoke as he exhales, but he’s still glum once he’s finished.
“There you are,” a voice says, and Merlin pops his head out the front door. “Breakfast is ready. I wasn’t sure about the pork for you, given that Leviticus says not to eat animals with cloven hooves,” he teases.
“Leviticus says a lot of things,” Arthur replies snarkily. “If you’re so hung up on them, why don’t you help me sell Morgana? Or stone your neighbour - I saw, he’s growing wheat and barley beside each other.”
Merlin laughs and replies, “Well, aren’t you God’s Little Trooper. Come on, I didn’t slave over a hot stove for ye so your breakfast could get cold, mover your lazy arse.”
“Make me,” Arthur says cheekily.
Merlin puffs his chest out and says in his most authoritative voice, “The Power of Christ commands you!”
“I’m a person, not a demon,” Arthur scoffs. “Honestly Meeeerrrrlin.”
“How about, I fried you an extra egg?”
“Now you’re talking,” Arthur grins, standing up. “Lead the way my good man.”
Arthur should move on and forget about Merlin, he knows he should, but while he has this, even if it’ll never be anything more, it’s all he’ll ever want.
*****
The next few months fly by for Merlin - after Christmas, Father Gaius decides to start into the sacraments, and Merlin finds himself studying, practising and attending various different ceremonies - baptisms, communions, confirmations, weddings, funerals, last rites and ordinations of priests and nuns. He also starts rehearsals for his own ordination, and most excitingly, starts studying exorcisms. Father Gaius has him summoning angels every time he studies, and he’s at the stage where he barely has to think about it anymore. He wonders why his mentor has him doing this, and eventually can’t help but ask.
“I believe the angels will help you should you ever have to perform an exorcism,” the priest tells him. “I know what you did was miraculous, but Merlin, there are priests who have been driven nearly mad after performing an exorcism - perhaps the angels can shield you from such.”
Along with his lessons, he has his sessions with Gwen, which now includes talk of her wedding plans, and his time with Arthur. Arthur who’s loud and questioning, and kind, and understanding, and utterly brilliant, and Merlin, for the first time in his life, is starting to have FEELINGS. He’s not too sure what they mean, but they make him feel giddy and depressed all at once, make him smile whenever he thinks of the man, and make him want to shout from the rooftops and keep it all to himself simultaneously.
He blames Will: ever since their talk at New Years, all sorts of crazy thoughts keep popping into his head, and try as he might, he can’t chase them away. Though that doesn’t mean he can’t stop trying, and so, every time Arthur smiles at him, or looks at him a certain way, and his stomach swoops giddily, he blames it on something he ate. And look at him Arthur does - fond looks, full of affection that make him feel warm, and heated looks that make him shiver dangerously. He finds himself drawn to Arthur; leaning imperceptibly towards him, leaving causal touches on his shoulders and back, hugging him just a tad bit longer than necessary, all the while telling himself that it means nothing because they are JUST FRIENDS AND HE DOES NOT HAVE FEELING FOR ANYONE.
Easter arrives in late April, and Easter Sunday finds Merlin in Gwen and Lance’s with Arthur, the four of them playing Whist(4): Arthur and Merlin against Gwen and Lance. According to Arthur, Morgana had once again tried to put something religious in her room to celebrate Easter; Uther had torn it asunder, causing a massive fight, and so, now they were taking each other out for dinner and a film to make up. This evening Merlin learns two things: one, Arthur is meant to be a leader of some sort of code-based operation, and two, he sucks at whist. As it comes to his turn, Arthur waggles his eyebrows, winks twice and touches his middle finger. Merlin stares in confusion at him, and hesitantly plays a three of spades. Arthur’s scowl tells him he may have been wrong. Gwen plays a better card and wins yet another trick for her and Lance.
“You idiot,” Arthur mouths at him.
Merlin sticks his tongue out at him, and thinks fondly, ‘You absolute numpty. I could just kiss y-”
He breaks that thought off abruptly, not wanting to acknowledge where exactly it is going. Arthur grins at him, and Merlin spends the rest of the game in a daze, half staring at Arthur’s mouth, and desperately trying to convince himself that he isn’t.
*****
“I’ve finished it,” Arthur grins as soon as Merlin opens the door. “I have now read the Bible.”
“Well done,” Merlin smiles, getting Arthur in. “So what did you think?”
Arthur lounges on the couch, all pleased-as-punch smiles and flushed cheeks, and Merlin feels his stomach jolt at the sight.
“Not bad,” Arthur admits. “The New Testament is quite good, and Revelations is cool.”
“I thought you’d like that book,” Merlin chuckles, taking a seat beside Arthur.
Arthur launches into a spiel about the story of Jesus walking on the water, and Merlin is drawn into a long conversation about the disciples, and the question of the gospels any of the rest might have written. Merlin and Arthur’s sessions have become this chatting type of time together, rather than Merlin doing most of the talking, and Merlin finds that this is one of his favourite times of the week. Arthur is very intelligent, and a mixture of thoughtful insight and passionate arguing that makes him great fun to talk and debate with.
Later that evening, Arthur turns to him and says, “So… I’ve been going to some of Morgana’s RCIA classes, and … I’m thinking of becoming a Catholic.”
Merlin gapes and replies, “Really? Are you sure, it’s a big step to take.”
“I know, and I’m sure,” Arthur tells him reassuringly. “You’ve helped me so much Merlin - a few years ago I was bullying people who were religious, but now, I can say that I’ve never been happier than I am being open to religion. There’s something about you Merlin, something that makes me want to be a better person, and not let you down.”
Arthur’s face is open and raw, and Merlin feels something fierce and wonderful rush down his spine.
“Arthur, you could never let me down,” he says with undisguised pride and affection. “I might have helped, but you’re the man who had the will to change, and you have the biggest, most open heart and mind I’ve come across in a long time.”
Arthur doesn’t hesitate, simply leans across and pulls Merlin into a tight hug. Merlin feels something pool in his belly, and loses himself in the embrace.
He is so screwed.
*****
Uther, not for the first time in his life, feels completely lost. This time though, it’s accompanied by an ache in his gut and a longing for something he rarely lets himself think about. How did things get so messed up? Once moment, Morgana was HIS Morgana - she played cards with him, stayed up late to watch cheesy horror films with him, talked to him about anything and everything. But now, she’s moody, distant, always arguing with him, always talking about… THAT. She keeps disappearing every Sunday, and Uther has the most terrible feeling of what she’s up to, but refuses to think of it, for fear of what he might do. Can she not see that she is on the path to madness? It’s these friends of hers, they’ve twisted her mind and turned her against him, and Uther knows only one way to respond to the mad things she says: anger. This is very easy for him, as he is already angry at so much - at Morgana for changing and abandoning him, at God for doing nothing but bring him misery and strife, at the world and life in general. He’s so angry he feels he could burn up at any moment, and he wishes with all his might that Morgana would be a cooling salve on his tormented soul, as she was once before.
At this moment, Morgana arrives back into his office, having closed up the front of the shop and emptied the cash register, and Uther’s heart leaps at the sight of her smile.
“All done,” she says breezily, putting the cash register money down and kissing him lightly on the cheek.
Uther fights the urge to turn his head into the kiss by reminding himself that it’s wrong, wrong, wrong - Morgana is thirteen years his junior, and he’s been looking after her since she was sixteen for Christ’s sake. But the truth of the matter is that Morgana has never felt like anything more than someone he cares for deeply, and that has never changed.
“Thank you,” he smiles at her. “You head home; I’ve got a couple more things to sort out.”
Morgana smiles and takes a seat beside him, leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder, just as she’s always done when it’s just the two of them. Uther smiles, kisses the top of her head, and carries on with the paperwork, Morgana watching.
A companionable silence sits between them, when Morgana suddenly murmurs, “There’s an art show coming to town I was thinking of going to see. It’s all Italian Renaissance painters, you know, Da Vinci, Michelangelo, all of them.”
Uther freezes, and his blood run cold. He knows exactly what kind of things are in those painting: representations of a vile system, and he’ll have no part of it.
“No,” he says abruptly, and winces as Morgana stiffens and pulls away.
“Why not?” She asks angrily.
“You know why,” he replies just as angrily.
“No I don’t - they’re just paintings Uther!”
“They are not just paintings Morgana, they are a representation-”
“Of a vile and cruel system blah blah blah,” Morgana interrupts nastily. “Save it for someone who cares, or at least come up with some new lines.”
Her face then softens and she says pleadingly, “Uther, you’re cutting so much out of your life because of this hatred. You were happy and free once, when you had faith, when you were a reverend, when-”
“When the love of my life was alive?” Uther asks coldly.
Morgana flinches as if struck, hurt evident in her eyes, and Uther thinks this is it, this is when whatever thing is between them shatters and dies, this is when he’ll lose her for good. Uther looks away, angry and ashamed, and is surprised when Morgana speaks.
“Yes, when your wife was alive,” she agrees softly. “But do you think she would have wanted this for you? For you to throw away everything you and her believed in? For you to raise Arthur to hate a God she loved? For you,” and at this she breaks off, and then speaks, her voice thick with emotion, “For you to never fall in love again?”
Uther feels something inside him snap at the horrible truths she’s just spoken.
Turning on her, he stands and walks right into her space, growling viciously, “How DARE you speak of Ygraine! You didn’t know her, you never will! You think you know so much, but you’re just a child, spoilt and petty and looking for attention; it’s pathetic. The truth is, you know nothing!”
Morgana grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him in for a fierce and bruising kiss. It lasts all of ten seconds, before she pushes him away and slaps him across the face, eyes blazing.
“I know YOU, Uther Pendragon,” she spits out, and then storms off, leaving Uther standing in the middle of the office, wondering what the hell just happened.
*****
It’s official: Merlin is FREAKED OUT. There’s no point in denying it anymore - he has feeling for Arthur, squishy, romantic feeling that are most definitely not platonic, and rather, border on thoughts of kissing and other terribly sinful and inappropriate things. He had even woken up this morning after having a horrific dream about kissing and touching a naked Arthur, and had woken up… excited, and therefore, is now curled up in the bathroom hyperventilating, tears streaming down his cheeks and surrounded by angels.
“Please,” he sobs, “tell me what’s going on. Is there something wrong with me? Is this a test from God - a test of my devotion, of my faith? Please, give me a sign, tell me something, anything!”
But as always, the angels are silent. Their warmth seems suddenly colder, and they fade away as Merlin cries his poor, confused heart out.
*****
Of course, even though he’s upset and confused, he can’t stay away from Arthur, can’t imagine not being around him, and so, Merlin finds himself dutifully turning up for Friday night hanging out, a bag of junk food with him. They’re hanging out in Arthur’s for the first time, as Morgana’s gone to stay with Gwen and Lance for a while, preparing for her baptism, and Uther, oddly enough, has gone for a weekend away in Cork. According to Arthur, Morgana and Uther are avoiding each other, though why, he has no idea.
Arthur opens the door with a giant smile, and Merlin feels warm and happy and sick to his core.
“You got the goods?” Arthur asks, in a fake ‘Russian spy’ accent.
Merlin grins, looks around shiftily and then holds up the bag, while saying, “The system?”
“Set up and good to go.”
“Excellent.”
The two friends traipse into the sitting room, where the XBOX 360 awaits. Merlin dumps the content of the bag on the floor, and the games begin. At one point during the first game, Arthur nudges Merlin, causing him to lose control and send his character driving off the track, and that sets up the tone for the night. Throughout the games, they constantly nudge and shout at each other, trying to psyche each other out. Merlin can’t stop laughing as he shoves against Arthur, who’s trying to tickle him with his feet. He’s having so much fun he’s forgotten why he was ever miserable or confused, because this is just brilliant.
Arthur suddenly shoves his foot in Merlin’s face, and Merlin yells and jumps on top of him, sitting on Arthur’s chest as he finishes the race in first place.
“Nice tr-YYYYY!”
He yells as Arthur grabs him round the waist and flips them over. Controllers tossed to one side, the two men tussle and wrestle around the floor, high on adrenaline and endorphins. Arthur reaches to tickles Merlin, and Merlin squirms out of his hold and tries to grab his hands. He suddenly finds an opening, and in a flash, he has Arthur pinned against the couch, his legs curled around Arthur’s thighs, and his hands holding the other man’s wrists firmly. Arthur tries to struggle free, but Merlin pushes in and down, keeping him in place. Merlin feels Arthur’s chest heaving against his, and suddenly realises just how close they are. He can’t help but stare into Arthur’s eyes, which are nearly black, his pupils are so diluted. Arthur’s gaze is heated and devouring, and Merlin leans in some more, wanting something he has no idea about. Arthur licks his lips, and Merlin feels something spike and pool in his groin and suddenly, he’s… oh Holey shit.
Arthur looks startled, and Merlin realises he’s said that last part out loud. Panic races through him and he quickly springs up, eyes wide and breathing becoming irregular.
“I, uh… I’ve got...”
He can’t speak, can’t think past what it is he’s almost done, and so, just turns and runs out the door and down the road until he’s back and safe in his bed. He prays and prays and summons angels for comfort and guidance, but it’s not working, and so he curls up in a ball of misery and hopes that sleep will help.
The worst thing is, he still wants to see Arthur, talk with him, laugh and hang with him. Despite all the trouble the man brings him, Merlin cannot let him go, cannot stop thinking about him, and it hits him with a start: he’s in sodding love with Arthur.
*****
“Father, um… what if… no - have you ever… I mean, surely there have been priests before… I just want to know how to stop it.”
“Merlin my boy, what on Earth are you talking about?” Father Gaius asks in a confused tone.
Merlin sighs miserably, staring down at his hands, and then answers softly, “Nothing, I don’t know.”
Maybe he’ll have better luck with Gwen.
“Gwen, I… I don’t know anymore,” he says desperately at their session. “It was all so simple and clear before - I was going to become a priest and that was that, but now… now there are all these feelings, and I’m so confused and… and what if it means my faith is waning? It doesn’t feel like that, but what if I’m not as devoted as I was before?”
“Merlin, Merlin, Merlin,” Gwen says soothingly, taking his hands in hers. “Do you still believe in God?”
“Of course.”
“And you still love him?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s okay,” she says brightly. “Your ordination is in two weeks, it’s natural to get cold feet or have doubts so close to such a big thing, but you’ll be fine.”
Merlin smiles wanly and curses his inability to explain this properly, and Gwen’s inability to be psychic. There’s only one thing to do: he’s just going to have to avoid Arthur for the next two weeks.
*****
(part 7)