Fic: Excalibur
You guys! I bring fic :D
Title: Excalibur
Author: suaine
Rating: R
Spoilers: general for the series, specific 1x09
Summary: The legends speak of a sword, beautifully crafted, powerful beyond the imaginings of man.
Notes: Thanks so much to my cheerleaders, especially the ever-awesome lunafenice, and sparky77 for beta and cheering.
Excalibur
The legends speak of a sword, beautifully crafted, powerful beyond the imaginings of man. A blow from this sword could not be blocked or parried. It cut through steel as easily as flesh. Its power was so great that only exceptional men and women, the denizens of legends themselves, could wield it.
But legend also speaks of the scabbard, woven out of the very fabric of magic. Protecting the sword and its bearer from all harm. A man who bore the scabbard would not bleed from his wounds and no strike could kill him.
-
The magic reared and bucked in his hand, the sword vibrated with revulsion, but all Uther seemed to feel was the slight imbalance in its weight, the slight hesitation as it cut through the air. Excalibur screamed as it slashed and cut at an invisible enemy, and Merlin could hear every single note as if it was uttered by his own heart.
"It was made for Arthur," was all he could say through the noise and the pain.
The power of class and station was almost as incredible as his magic. He could not simply take the sword back. He cursed himself for leaving it out of his sight for so much as a minute. The dragon would be furious with him and Merlin could appreciate that. He was breaking a promise, he could feel the bonds of the oath tugging at him, tearing out a little piece of him.
-
Watching Uther defeat the wraith, Merlin felt pride and relief, all of the things he would have felt if it had been Arthur's hand leading that power. The dragon would not see it like that. The dragon had already sacrificed soul and self, and he harbored a hatred of Uther that only his devotion to destiny could hold in check.
For the first time, Merlin felt a dark, icy fear of the dragon creep up his spine, as he began to grasp the true power of that creature. Shackled beneath the castle, he was a terrible force, and Merlin could see it unleashed, the image turning his blood to ice.
And the thing, the thing that got to him, that broke through his childish defenses, was that there was a deep hurt beneath the fury, a wound so harrowing, the dragon could put no words to it. The roar echoed in Merlin's heart and followed him up a mountain.
-
Toward the lake, sword thrumming in his mind, plucking the same harmonic chord night and day, Merlin lost all sense of time.
Cast me out!
The sword had not an ounce more weight than any other of its size, but there was a heaviness to it. Merlin could feel it on his back with every step.
Take me to the Gates of Avalon.
When the sword left his hand it also left his mind and Merlin almost choked on the sudden lack. Magic this powerful left an almost physical space when it parted. He felt cold, alone, hungry - all those things the magic had dampened came crashing back into the void.
He shivered.
-
“You look like death, Merlin,” won out over “Where the hell have you been?” but only just. It still read clearly in Arthur's eyes as Merlin fell off the horse he'd liberated from Arthur's stables for this quest. The mare had done him a great service, perhaps she had heard the voice of Excalibur in her mind just as he had.
“I had to run an errand.”
There was fury in Arthur's worried tone, or perhaps worry in his furious glances. Merlin was too tired to parse all the intricacies of Arthur's voice, Arthur's frown, and Arthur's hands on him. He took what comfort he could get before he stumbled and the world turned upside down.
-
A new voice took hold in that empty piece of his heart, a mocking voice that rang with tenderness, a contradiction in its very essence. Merlin recognized the voice but not the words. He floated in a sea of sound, all of it Arthur, all of it vibrating on the same key as Merlin's every cell.
“You're an idiot,” Arthur said, his fingers hovering somewhere between tenderness and business. “Have I mentioned that lately? Because I'm thinking you haven't really embraced that truth about yourself.”
The words burned brightly in his mind, an echo of light and shadow. Merlin could only stare, stare at Arthur's mouth and wonder when - how! - the Prince had acquired such a keen grasp on magic. Each word a mystery as it raced across his skin, danced across his nerves like so much minute lightning.
“Merlin?”
The sound of his name, a key, a guiding light, it went straight to his core, igniting each of Merlin's senses on the way.
“Arthur,” he groaned, sounding it like Excalibur and meaning it like destiny.
-
Merlin returned to work after a week of delirium. Arthur treated him no different, but something in Merlin felt as if changed. He tried not to think about it too much.
The feeling dwindled to nothing after a few days, his excursion to the lake becoming a hazy memory.
-
It took a while before he realized what was going on. He'd grown close to Arthur through the months of serving and saving the crown prince, friendly even, and despite his failure to grasp hand signals, Merlin did pick up on other subtle cues. The roll of his eyes or a simple smirk could convey quite a tale if Merlin was paying attention.
He often caught himself paying too much attention to Arthur, to every small detail.
It wasn't surprising, then, that he would take a while to detect the shift. It seemed like natural progression. One moment he could read Arthur's smile and decipher the shape of his lips, the next he imagined the voice in his head to go along with the words.
At the midsummer feast, he began to understand that something quite significant had happened to him. It started so innocent, too. Another feast meant Arthur was bored out of his mind and therefore drawing Merlin into a silent game of chicken. They traded glances across a crowded room, pointing out ridiculous dresses, or a knight embarrassing himself by looking down a serving maid's dress. The game had only the one rule: who laughed first had lost and would be faced with horrific reparations, such as wearing a feathery hat for a week, as well as looking like an idiot in front of the court.
Merlin had managed to lose every time, so far.
“My god, if Sir Branwen hits the ale any harder, he'll drop before father is done with the toast.”
Merlin couldn't help himself at the image that crystallized in his mind, of a comically drunk Branwen lapping at a too large cup, ale swishing over the sides - he barked a sharp laugh and turned around to hide what threatened to turn into giggles.
Arthur raised a brow and Merlin could hear very clearly: “He might be more stupid than usual. Lucky that he's still pretty.”
Merlin faced Arthur to say something but could only stare, as he heard Arthur say, “Maybe there's something wrong with him...” and not move his lips at all.
He blinked, turned back to the wall, and quietly freaked out.
At which point, Arthur's actual voice sounded behind him, “What the hell, Merlin?”
-
They sat across from each other at Arthur's table. Merlin tapped his fingers. Arthur whipped his leg. Neither of them spoke but there was a constant buzz of two people decidedly trying not think of anything at all. It didn't work out exactly to plan.
“Oh my god, would you stop with the drinking songs already?”
Merlin was beginning to fray under the stress of having ninety-nine bottles of ale on his wall and trying desperately not to think of the thing.
The thing he couldn't think of with Arthur in his head.
“You know I can hear that, right?” Arthur looked constipated, like thinking of increasingly insane distractions was giving him indigestion.
“We can't do this,” Merlin said, his voice going high-pitched and fragile.
Arthur nodded, his face shuttered. “Maybe it gets better when you're not here?”
Merlin stared, his eyes wide with the sting of rejection, but Arthur grimaced before he could say anything, and pressed out between clenched teeth: “That's not what I meant. Just... let's see if distance affects it at all.”
-
Arthur kept up a chorus of nursery rhymes in his head, which made Merlin want to jump off the battlements. It was dark enough that torches had been lit all around the perimeter. Guards gave him looks as he passed, but didn't challenge his right to be there. Privilege of a manservant to the crown prince - he could go almost anywhere without much trouble.
“You know, I think that might be a security risk.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. The connection hadn't faded at all, Arthur's voice still sounded like he was standing right behind Merlin, whispering into his ear.
“Yes, because of all the people who might want to kill you for being a prat, it's me you're worried about.”
Silence, a dark swirl of thoughts Merlin couldn't grasp, and then something like a shout, in his head. “Not you, never you.”
Merlin swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He blushed to the tips of his ears, he could feel the burn under his skin. Glad that Arthur couldn't see him, Merlin shot back an image of a smile, like he imagined himself to look when Arthur won a tournament or beat a monster - something proud and warm.
“Merlin,” Arthur thought, “I-” and then a nursery rhyme again, but Merlin got the sentiment loud and clear. It filled him with warmth even out there in the night.
“Where are you?” Covering his own embarrassment at the too intimate situation, he thought of practicalities.
Arthur picked up the thread of the conversation without so much as a hitch between Rows and rows of angels singing... and “Almost down by the stables. I could probably take a horse out and ride until morning, but I doubt it will make much difference.”
Merlin had to agree. “Yeah, distance doesn't appear to affect the... it at all.” He'd caught himself just in time, shutting down all thoughts in that direction. Even the possible consequences of slipping up got shut away in a small, dark part of his mind.
If Arthur ever knew-
“If I know what?” Sudden interest spiked in Merlin's mind, and he cursed the whole situation, all the while deflecting with a bit of nonsense rambling. The disappointment he could feel from Arthur surely had to be imagination.
-
They decided over dinner that Gaius would be the best person to tell. It wasn't easy to convince Arthur that the physician could be trusted with that kind of secret without implicating himself, but somehow Merlin had managed to babble Arthur into submission.
Although a suspicious nagging at the back of his mind refused to go away. He swatted at Arthur's thoughts like they were flies and Arthur actually yelped.
“Hey!”
They stared at each other across the corridor, only steps away from Gaius' chambers. Merlin could imagine his eyes as wide as serving bowls and then it wasn't imagination anymore, but a fuzzy overlay to the real world, of what, exactly, he looked like to Arthur right that minute. Merlin shuddered and pressed his eyes closed.
“Okay,” he said, “that's new.”
Arthur grunted, but there was a steady litany of break a finger, break a leg in his head, which was almost enough to make Merlin break into helpless laughter. Almost. Merlin still had his eyes closed when Arthur dropped into a crouch next to him (how he knew Arthur's exact position was not something Merlin wanted to think about) and touched Merlin's arm.
“Hey,” Arthur said, and his voice made something tense in Merlin's belly uncurl.
Merlin leaned his head against the wall, forcing his own thoughts into a calm, indecipherable mess, while trying to keep Arthur out as much as possible. He wanted to hear what Arthur actually said, not what he couldn't help thinking.
“That's, uhm,” Arthur began, and the rest came without words, a grateful, slightly embarrassed mess of emotion. Merlin wanted to wrap the feeling around him. He was getting a bit tired of the whole situation and he was glad that it was Arthur he had to share this with.
“Me too,” Arthur said. He released a sigh, his thoughts radiating both weariness and warmth. “Let's get you to Gaius and maybe he knows what this is all about.” He very obviously didn't mention magic and Merlin got the distinct impression that it was deliberate. He clamped down on the thought to examine later.
Arthur had his hand on Merlin's back all the way to Gaius' quarters. That, too, was something Merlin wanted to think about on his own time, but Arthur caught him at it, a questioning look on his face. Then his eyes wandered to his hand and he blushed, just the faintest hint, and stubbornly left his hand there as if it belonged.
For some reason, Merlin had the feeling that one of them was - or both were - thinking exactly that.
-
Gaius frowned at them. Merlin could read the expression easily enough, but there was nothing at all behind it - not anything like the connection he now shared with Arthur, who at that very moment coughed artificially, pretending not to have heard any of Merlin's thoughts.
“I can't explain it,” Merlin said, willing Gaius to understand what he couldn't possibly say out loud. The truth was... the truth was he couldn't even pinpoint exactly when it had started.
“The feast,” Arthur mumbled, “that's when I realized.” Merlin nodded.
“So the two of you have spent the time between then and now doing what exactly?” There was something fearful in that tone, and something angry. Merlin sighed.
“We might have been testing how it worked?”
Arthur chuckled. He sat so close, Merlin could feel breath on his neck, though he didn't need that clue to sense where Arthur was or how tense his muscles were beneath his outside bluster. "It's a bit disconcerting."
Gaius raised a brow. "You don't say."
"Do you have any idea what could be causing this?"
A nod, and a warning that their own, secret part of the conversation wasn't over - and then Gaius switched into scientist mode, the problem at hand the only thing he seemed to be thinking about. "Merlin, get me the book on Myth and Folklore of the Isles down from that shelf, and Sire, if you wish to be helpful, you can start reading this." Gaius dropped a heavy tome in front of Arthur and here Merlin couldn't keep the laughter inside anymore.
Arthur shot him a glare, but his mouth was twitching. "Very funny, Mr. Go-and-Fetch." The words were silent, or else Gaius would have looked up from his perusal of the Phenomenal Handbook of Mysterious and Strange Occurrences.
Merlin's eyes widened at an image of a dog running, stick firmly in its jaw, and the distinct impression of Merlin all over the creature. He retaliated with that very same image, but adding an impression of Arthur to the stick, which earned him an unexpected blush. He hadn't meant it like that!
"If you two are quite finished, there is work to be done." Gaius' glare could not hide the old man's amusement, but Merlin felt properly chastised anyway.
They went through every book in Gaius' possession and work was slow for both Merlin and Arthur, as they were both privy to the other's text as well as their own. They gave up half-way into the third book and just sat down to share, Arthur spending rather more time looking at and silently commenting the pictures.
"I think I've got something," Merlin said, until Arthur tapped his fingers next to the image of two small girls with flowers in their hair.
"Really, let me see that." Gaius gestured for the book, but Merlin just shook his head.
"It's , uhm, it doesn't-"
Arthur thumped the back of Merlin's head. "What little Miss Sunshine here wants to say, is that unless my father has been keeping something from the kingdom about Merlin's heritage, this probably doesn't apply to us."
Gaius looked at it anyway. "Twins, hm."
The next possibility came from Arthur, or rather, it markedly didn't, but the sudden silence made Merlin sit up and search through the images Arthur had been looking at.
"Uhm," Merlin said.
The picture was truly graphic, two people entangled in ecstasy, and the description spoke of two souls joining, a one-ness of the mind.
Arthur's mind was a mess that Merlin couldn't make sense of, so he turned to Gaius. "I think that, uhm, this requires us to be married."
Arthur choked and coughed and Merlin ignored the mental flinch he got for patting his back. Gaius sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Perhaps we should consider another option."
As Gaius spoke, resigned and tired, Merlin felt fear curl hot and tight in his stomach.
-
Merlin followed Arthur back to his chambers, putting everything out of his mind except for the rhythmic sound of their boots on the stone floor. It had something hypnotic, a calming effect, that spread through his body and into his thoughts.
Closing the heavy doors behind him, Merlin didn't know what to say, so he just stood next to his prince and master, waiting for orders. Arthur, his head bowed, didn't react to the closeness of their bodies or the hum of anxiety in Merlin's mind.
They stood for what felt like hours, Merlin with hands clenching ever tighter, Arthur breathing so low he might as well be holding his breath.
"So," Arthur started, and it all spilled out into the link. "You know magic. You lied to me. You know magic and you lied to me." It was a hot, hard, tangled mess of emotion and thought, a maelstrom that threatened to drag them both under.
Merlin nodded, thinking, "yes" and "I'm sorry" and "please forgive me" and "I never meant to hurt you".
Still, they stood, and the silence in the room was deafening.
"Merlin," Arthur said, and his voice was rough, hard-edged, laced with all the things they never said. "I should turn you over to my father. People, even valued officials of the crown, have been executed for less."
Merlin took a deep breath, though his lungs still felt constricted, burning with the lack of air. "I know." His voice, such as it was, seemed oddly without inflection to his own ears, no comparison to the tumult in his heart.
"I have always," Arthur said, "Always followed the law. No one, not even the Crown Prince, has the right to question that."
Merlin thought of the druid boy, and forced the thought into silence. He had no right to defend himself by accusing Arthur. Not like this.
Arthur shook his head, "My father is a great king, but he is wrong about magic." The words hurt Arthur, each one ripped from his tongue, and Merlin felt the pain as keenly as if it were his own. "The kind of kingdom I want to rule does not..." Arthur swallowed, and the anger in his eyes no longer burned like fire. Merlin forced his hands open and rested one at the base of Arthur's neck.
"Camelot should not judge people for the way they are born, only for their deeds."
Merlin felt tears well up in his eyes and he bit his lip. "Arthur, I-"
But Arthur cut him off. "I'm not finished." He looked fierce, dangerous, a wild animal driven mad by hunger or pain. Merlin did not fear him, for his mind was a whirlwind of fire and ice, but Merlin stood safe and protected at the center of it. An undercurrent of mine and Merlin ran counter to all the harsh words that dropped from Arthur's lips.
"I won't let you be punished for your magic," Arthur said, "not on my life."
Merlin gasped. The promise seared hot across their bond, burning everything in its way. Merlin began to understand just what Arthur had been hiding on his part. Arthur looked into Merlin's eyes, searching, and his hands found purchase on Merlin's hips. They were now facing each other, a foot apart, their hearts' beat speeding up at the tension that built between them.
"I asked you once about your magic and you lied to me. How can I trust you now?"
Merlin felt the insecurity, the fear, the desire, everything Arthur felt, and the sensation rushed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him with its intensity. This was his moment and he gripped it with both hands, his eyes locked onto Arthur's, his fingers digging into Arthur's skin. He opened himself, opened his mind to Arthur, and let everything go.
Magic began to hum between them, singing along the path that connected their minds. Arthur's eyes widened and then, on a shuddering breath, he crushed their mouths together.
It was a messy kiss, hard and wet and filthy. They came up for air like drowning men, and need brought them together again like the pull of the tide. Merlin's hands tugged at Arthur's shirt, needing it off. Arthur made a low sound at the back of his throat, something growly and sharp that curled under Merlin's skin.
"C'mon," Arthur said into Merlin's mouth, "you're wearing far too many clothes." An intense flash of skin on skin shot through Merlin's mind, Arthur had quite the imagination.
Merlin pushed himself back, his hands cupping Arthur's jaw, Arthur's hands holding Merlin's body tight against his. "Arthur:" He didn't need to say more, all of it rang in the air between them, how beautiful he thought Arthur to be, how he could not imagine a world without him.
Arthur closed his eyes and turned his cheek into Merlin's touch. The gesture seemed tender, almost sweet, not like the burning passion that waited at the back of their minds. "Merlin," Arthur said, his thoughts a jumble of need and want and love, "no more talking." He opened his eyes, their fire one of the hottest things Merlin had ever seen.
Merlin pulled Arthur in and kissed him hard, no thoughts left between them, just the taste of their skin, salt and sweat, the sound of their breaths, heavy and fast.
Falling into bed, Merlin couldn't tell where one of them began and the other ended. A hand splayed possessively on a hip, Merlin's perhaps, another dug deep into the skin of his back, or Arthur's, or both. Merlin was hard against the soft skin of Arthur's hip, an echoing hardness right against his own, the friction building with every thrust, with every frantic breath.
He licked the spot behind Arthur's ear, down to his jaw, and felt the touch on his own skin, a trail of fire. Arthur cupped the back of Merlin's head, his thumb drawing small circles on Merlin's scalp. They stared at each other and there was nothing separating them but air, no barriers left at all.
Arthur's hand brought them both off, and his lips found Merlin's as their world narrowed to each other and bloomed into white light.
-
Merlin's hand lay on Arthur's chest, the touch feathery soft, echoed on his own skin. It was the strangest sensation, to feel Arthur's body as he felt his own, an extension of self rather than another person. He sighed and let his head rest on Arthur's shoulder, mindful not to aggravate an old injury that had flared up again during a gruesome sparring session, only two days ago. It disturbed him to know this, to know every muscle and bone so intimately.
Arthur played with Merlin's hair. "You think too much."
Merlin snorted. "We can't all be so empty-headed."
While the link between them had grown stronger still, their bodies becoming two halves of the same - no, Merlin refused to think coin and Arthur chuckled at the image of the dragon - entity, their minds had calmed and thrown up natural barriers. The background noise had transformed into a soft hum, and only their surface thoughts shone through, if they allowed it. They were still thrumming with shared emotion and every time Arthur's breath quickened, Merlin could feel his own heart pick up the pace.
"I should have you sacked for talking to me like this, I am still the prince, you know."
Merlin grinned into Arthur's skin. "Of course you are."
Arthur kept stroking his hair, even as he tried to sound put out - which undermined the effect somewhat, when he said, "You should show some respect."
"Oh," Merlin said, "I respect you plenty, my Lord."
Merlin's ears turned red as he realized how those last words sounded to Arthur. They called up an image of the day they'd met for the second time and a strong feeling of possessiveness and lust. "Oh."
Arthur projected what was by all means a mental shrug, and grinned to himself, though Merlin didn't need to raise his head off his shoulder to see it, feel it, taste it on his own lips. "Don't let this go to your head," Arthur said, his fingers playing with the hair, "you're still a servant."
Merlin looked up, then, and Arthur bent to kiss his forehead, marking the statement as the lie it was.
-
They snuck into Gaius' chambers before dawn, trading only heated glances and light, almost innocent touches. Maintaining an air of decorum, while Arthur imagined vividly how he would bend Merlin over a table or push him up against a wall. Merlin spent most of their hurried walk through dark castle corridors blushing furiously and insinuating the things he could do with his tongue.
Arrived at their destination, Arthur stood somewhat lost between the scientific equipment, the herbal concoctions and the stacks of ordinary, non-magic books. Merlin crept toward Gaius' bed and touched the old man's shoulder, saying his name.
Gaius opened his eyes and jumped out of bed. "Merlin!" The relief warred with disbelief in his voice, and a thought from Arthur remarked how no one seemed to trust him with anything. It felt like a pout in Merlin's head.
Gaius crushed Merlin into a hug, and for a moment, all Merlin could feel was love and joy and a new, free life for him. Then, from the corner of his mind that he'd labeled Arthur came a wave of jealousy so intense, Merlin stiffened against the onslaught. Images crashed into his thoughts, a lonely boy surrounded by scary, lifeless toys; a dark man, with the Pendragon crest emblazoned on his chest (it burned brightly, lit by some kind of inner fire); Uther, his back turned; Uther frowning; Uther, Uther, Uther. Merlin looked up to meet Arthur's eyes. His face was impassive, perhaps a little tight around the lips, nothing at all reflecting on it.
Arthur shut himself down, the thoughts stopped as fast as they'd come, and there was an eerie, painful silence where the soft hum of Arthur's mind was supposed to be. Merlin could feel it, still, but Arthur had put such a tight clamp on his emotions, he himself would not have been able to access them.
"Arthur," Merlin said, letting go of Gaius and holding out his hand. "Come here."
Arthur's expression tightened. "I don't need your pity."
Merlin took a slow breath, putting all of his anger at Uther, his fears and desires, his own insecurities, on the surface, laid out for Arthur to peruse. "This isn't pity."
Arthur swallowed hard and though his movements seemed reluctant, he stepped forward and didn't flinch when Merlin threw his arms around him. Merlin pressed them close together, burying his head in the place between Arthur's neck and shoulder. Arthur relaxed against him, ever so slowly, as if he'd never been hugged.
It loosened a torrent of emotion in Arthur, impossible to hold back, and it lapped around them both like waves at a rock. Without letting go, without so much as retreating a single inch, Merlin began to weave words into the sea of emotion. "It's alright, you know, he does love you. He does." Merlin concentrated on the memory of Uther and the sword, only days ago, when he'd been willing to die for his son.
Arthur didn't sniffle, but his voice was suspiciously rough when he spoke. "I know."
Merlin smiled. "And if all else fails, you'll always have me." He'd intended it to be light-hearted and simple, a promise but not an oath, not this urge to bind himself to Arthur. Arthur understood, both the meaning behind the words and how it was intended, so he didn't push it, for once.
"Great," Arthur said, "a rubbish servant all to myself."
Before Merlin could bite Arthur's ear and start something right there in the lab, a gruff voice interrupted them. "If you two are quite finished," Gaius said, "we still have to find out how to help you stay out of each other's heads."
-
Merlin tapped a simple rhythm on the table next to the heavy tome he was ploughing through. Da-da-da-dun. The words began to make less and less sense, already it took him three read-throughs of a page to comprehend what it was about. They'd been at it for hours. Arthur sat on Merlin's bed, curled over a small leather-bound book on the history of magic.
"There's a reference here to a collection of old stories," Arthur said, "of course, they are oral tales and only a bard would know enough to be of any use."
Merlin frowned. "Your father doesn't entertain bards."
Arthur rolled his eyes and thought idiot at him, though he seemed unable to mask the affection beneath the word. "No bard would be stupid enough to come to Camelot after what Father threatened to do to anyone who portrayed magic in a positive light. Taliesin himself was the last bard at court, years ago."
"What happened?" Merlin felt dread creep up his spine.
"Mind you, I was only six or seven at the time, I'm not sure how much of this is true. But the Great Bard came when one of his own was to be executed."
Merlin closed the book, too fascinated by Arthur's story to concentrate on anything else. "Did he do any magic?"
"No, the bard just sang a song. It was about a foolish king who was cursed to have no children, and his beautiful wife wasted away at the thought to be barren all her life." Something in Arthur's voice broke Merlin open and let the story come to life between them, a moment of magic if he'd ever felt one. "The king loved his wife very much and so he asked many wise men for help in the matter. There were, however, no remedies to cure the will of nature. Finally, he asked his court magician for help in the matter. The witch was very powerful and with her magic, the king and his wife managed to conceive. But with every day the child grew in strength inside her, the queen lost months of her life. She died during childbirth and as much as the king had wanted a child, he could never get over the death of his beloved wife."
Merlin swallowed. The images faded away, but still he could recognize the face of the king as Uther. The bard had told the story of Arthur's birth. Arthur looked away, his thoughts still deep in the events of the past. "I didn't realize at the time," Arthur said, "Not until now, really. It's-"
"What happened with the bard?" Merlin was desperate to stop the spiral of thought Arthur was going down. It could not end well - there was no one to blame in a tragedy like that.
Arthur blinked, forcing himself back to where they had started. "Taliesin came to speak on the bard's behalf and because there was some kind of deal between him and my father. He called in a debt for the life of the man; my father was furious having to grant it. When they left, he decreed that no bard should ever set foot in Camelot again."
Merlin caught sight of his hand tapping again, or still. He couldn't quite explain why the rhythm bothered him.
"Perhaps someone in Ealdor can help. It's not in the kingdom, there've been bards travelling through, although I don't remember them ever staying long enough to tell a story."
Arthur shrugged, drawing Merlin's attention to his hands. "It's worth a try."
The prince had a couple of nervous gestures that came out whenever he was under stress. He liked to pace a room, or worry his fingernails. He never rapped his fingers against anything, not like this, not like Merlin would.
Da-da-da-dun. And then he did.
"I think," Merlin said, his gaze glued to Arthur's fingers, "We might have another problem."
-
Perhaps, Merlin thought, they'd been sabotaging themselves in their search for a cure.
"You think?" Arthur's intrusion wasn't unwelcome, which was half the problem.
The connection between them was intense and kind of annoying, but it was nice being this close to someone he loved. Even across the castle, Merlin could feel Arthur squirm at that thought. Squirm in a good way, blushing lightly, and drawing up all kind of images of the things he'd do to Merlin when he got out of the meeting with his father.
But then he was back to border disputes and knighting ceremonies, more royal bureaucracy than anyone except the king ever needed to know, and Merlin tuned it out as much as possible, hoping that his reading didn't interfere with Arthur's no doubt important decision making process. About vegetables.
"What?"
Arthur really wanted to roll his eyes at that, "Shut up, Merlin."
Merlin chuckled, "You know that most of those vegetables are going to end up in my face anyway."
Arthur returned his full attention to the king and his advisors while Merlin sifted through a few more ancient texts, letting the talk of politics and diplomacy lull him into a kind of half trance, until he wasn't quite sure where he was. At the subject of war, Arthur got a little agitated, especially when Sir Galehaut pointed out their weakness in the West.
"Merlin!" Panic, suddenly, so fast and hard, it made his eyes snap open. Merlin ran toward the northern hall with such speed, he almost tripped twice, all the while trying to connect to Arthur, who seemed so completely out of it there was no getting through. At least his voice was there, and his heartbeat, even as it fluttered like a panicked bird.
Merlin burst through the doors, propriety be damned.
Arthur turned to him, his eyes flashing gold. Merlin looked around the room - the frozen room - every occupant stuck in time like a fly in amber.
"Oh."
Arthur's eyes widened, "Merlin. What the hell just happened?"
"I think," Merlin said, "you just used my magic."
-
Merlin's eyes kept straying to Arthur in the practice fields, going through the same motions over and over, and failing every so often. He'd dropped his sword earlier this morning. Merlin had felt it crush his toes. Arthur never dropped his sword, he'd grown up with it, an extension to his arm.
"It's getting worse," Merlin said.
Gaius sighed. "We've sent word to Ealdor, there isn't anything else we can do right now."
Outside, Arthur stumbled over his own feet and cursed. Merlin had to repeat Gaius' words in his head to make sense of them. "There's something."
-
The dragon swooped down despite his threat that he would not help Merlin unless it was life and death. He scrutinized them both with narrowed eyes, looking for all the world like the monster people made him out to be.
"This is a really bad idea," Arthur hissed.
Merlin ignored him. "We need help," he said to the dragon.
"Ah," the dragon said, "I can see that."
"What do you mean?"
The dragon chuckled. "When you betrayed me, you betrayed the magic in every stone, in every plant, every creature."
Next to him, Arthur fidgeted. "You pissed off a dragon? What kind of idiot are you?"
Merlin glared at the prince. "Arthur, be quiet or he might just decide to eat you."
"Let this be a lesson to you, young warlock. The old magic always protects itself and works toward balance."
With that, he reared backward, standing on his powerful hindlegs, and flapping his great wings to stay upright. It was a magnificent sight.
"But how can that help us?"
"This magic cannot sustain itself, Merlin." He tensed, about to leap up into the air. "But it's not a sorcerer you are looking for." He pushed himself off and flew into the heights of the cave, chain rattling below him.
"Well," Arthur said, no small measure of awe in his voice, "that was different."
Merlin stared after the dragon. "Yeah, you get used to it. Besides, most of what he says is nonsense anyway." He tried, and failed, not to think of any of his previous conversations with the dragon.
Arthur, of course, picked up on it right away. "Two sides of a coin, really?"
Merlin shrugged. "Nonsense, as I said."
-
They slept entwined, close as skin on skin allowed. They walked together in dreams.
A voice in the darkness called out to them, "Come!" it said, and they came forward, through shadowed forests and sodden caves. "Come!" it said.
They came upon a lake that glittered in an unnatural sun, so bright, they had to shield their eyes from it. Their other hands entangled, they walked forward without sight, and only the beat of their hearts for guidance.
"Come!"
The water bore them easily and they walked as if on the softest meadow.
"Come!"
The island felt alive, trembling with the beat of a magical heart. They stopped and opened their eyes. In front of them, all around them, crystal and rock had grown into a flower and at its heart...
At its heart, there was the answer.
-
They both looked up when Gaius called Merlin's name, and the frown on his face deepened at something he found in their eyes.
"You both look like you haven't had any sleep."
"Bad dreams," they both said in unison, not quite aware of the synchronism.
Gaius shook his head, slowly, not taking his eyes off them. He looked worried. "What was it about?"
Merlin shrugged, but it was Arthur who spoke. "Can't remember."
"I've been thinking about what you said last night," Gaius said, "and I think the answer might be a cursed object, a powerful magical artifact of some kind."
Merlin gasped. "Of course!"
Beside him Arthur twitched, his expression turning dark and cloudy. "You know, I never actually got to use it."
Gaius crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation, but Merlin was too excited. How could he have been so stupid, the answer was so obvious! Arthur just rolled his eyes and threw in that if Gaius hadn't drugged him, this would likely not be a problem at all.
"Merlin?"
He blinked, then, trying to focus on his friend and mentor. "Hm?"
"What is going on?"
And Merlin grinned, wide and open like the road he could see ahead of him. "The sword, Gaius. Excalibur."
-
Arthur complained, holding on to a part of himself that threatened to drown in the ever increasing mess of them by being as much of an arse as he could possibly conceive of. Merlin gave as good as he got, whacking Arthur across the back of the head with a magical tendril. The magic flowed so freely between them now that it snapped right back and hit him in the face, courtesy of Arthur, Prince of Prats.
"Really?"
Arthur shrugged. "You deserved it."
Their horses carried them across the mountains, always following the magical trail, never wavering despite their fear and hunger. The animals grew haggard with the strain as time passed and the world changed into something half-seen, a shadow realm.
Merlin felt the magic of Excalibur tug at his heart, and Arthur scowled in disapproval. "Let's make camp."
They lay together at night, watching the stars, touching for the sake of touch, fighting the lure of the sword. It spoke to them, now, and their unity could no more bear the strength of it than a man could bear the weight of a kingdom.
"The way seems longer than you remember."
A smile. "It's magic."
-
"Come!" said Excalibur.
And they came.
-
The lake had changed. An island had risen from its depths, made of glittering rock, and at its center there was an altar of stone. Within the stone, as if driven into it by an angry god, stuck the sword Excalibur, burning with the fire of thirty suns.
"So what do we do now?" Arthur's eyes locked onto the sword.
Merlin frowned. "Honestly? I haven't the slightest clue."
The sword pulsed with light. Come closer.
Arthur looked at Merlin, eyes almost comically wide. "I suppose we could do what the nice magical object is telling us."
"Are you scared?"
"You're the expert on magic here. Should I be scared?"
Merlin tore his gaze from Arthur to glance at the sword. Where it had been magnificent in the dragon cave, incredible in the hands of Uther, it was divine now, a king of swords - the sword of the greatest king there would ever be.
Do not fear. Come, Arthur Pendragon, king of kings, and fulfill your destiny.
Merlin reached out to grab Arthur's arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Something isn't right here."
Myrddin Emrys, do not interfere.
Arthur shook with the effort not to move, there was something alluring and powerful about the sword. The magic drew him in, but Merlin stood strong and sure at his back. He didn't move, despite every cell urging him forward, despite all his thoughts singing with its beauty and power.
"Excalibur!" Merlin yelled, "We have come to request that you release us from your spell."
Silence. A magical wind started up around them. "Remember how we talked about not pissing off the powerful magical beings?"
Merlin laughed. "Release us!"
The magic ripped at them, tore at their clothes, and threw itself against them with terrible strength. Arthur stood his ground and his hand kept Merlin close. Safe.
"Release us!" Arthur said, his voice breaking despite his best efforts.
A howling like wolves and falcons, like death and darkness, sprang up and assaulted their ears. Still they stood and did not move toward the sword, and did not fall back toward safety.
You are strong, both of you. The power you have refused today will one day become yours to wield. Like a great king, the sword cannot stand alone. The scabbard must protect the blade.
Suddenly, the air was calm.
"Arthur?" Merlin sounded odd to his own ears. Lonely.
Arthur looked lost. "You know," he said, swallowing, "I wouldn't have believed it if you'd told me, but I really miss the... the thing."
Merlin felt around in his own mind, now fully his and his alone, and it felt-
"Yeah. It sort of grows on you, doesn't it?"
It felt like only half of a whole. One side of a coin. He wondered how the coin could stand it.
"Let's go home. We wouldn't want to miss the feast."
Arthur smiled, his small, private smile that always had an edge of pain and loss. Merlin smiled back, offering everything he had with a simple expression. "Of course, Sire. We wouldn't want to miss that."
"You're an idiot, Merlin," Arthur said, and it sounded like "I love you."
-
Alone, the sword and the sheath are among the most powerful magical items in history.
Together, they are unstoppable.
Title: Excalibur
Author: suaine
Rating: R
Spoilers: general for the series, specific 1x09
Summary: The legends speak of a sword, beautifully crafted, powerful beyond the imaginings of man.
Notes: Thanks so much to my cheerleaders, especially the ever-awesome lunafenice, and sparky77 for beta and cheering.
Excalibur
The legends speak of a sword, beautifully crafted, powerful beyond the imaginings of man. A blow from this sword could not be blocked or parried. It cut through steel as easily as flesh. Its power was so great that only exceptional men and women, the denizens of legends themselves, could wield it.
But legend also speaks of the scabbard, woven out of the very fabric of magic. Protecting the sword and its bearer from all harm. A man who bore the scabbard would not bleed from his wounds and no strike could kill him.
-
The magic reared and bucked in his hand, the sword vibrated with revulsion, but all Uther seemed to feel was the slight imbalance in its weight, the slight hesitation as it cut through the air. Excalibur screamed as it slashed and cut at an invisible enemy, and Merlin could hear every single note as if it was uttered by his own heart.
"It was made for Arthur," was all he could say through the noise and the pain.
The power of class and station was almost as incredible as his magic. He could not simply take the sword back. He cursed himself for leaving it out of his sight for so much as a minute. The dragon would be furious with him and Merlin could appreciate that. He was breaking a promise, he could feel the bonds of the oath tugging at him, tearing out a little piece of him.
-
Watching Uther defeat the wraith, Merlin felt pride and relief, all of the things he would have felt if it had been Arthur's hand leading that power. The dragon would not see it like that. The dragon had already sacrificed soul and self, and he harbored a hatred of Uther that only his devotion to destiny could hold in check.
For the first time, Merlin felt a dark, icy fear of the dragon creep up his spine, as he began to grasp the true power of that creature. Shackled beneath the castle, he was a terrible force, and Merlin could see it unleashed, the image turning his blood to ice.
And the thing, the thing that got to him, that broke through his childish defenses, was that there was a deep hurt beneath the fury, a wound so harrowing, the dragon could put no words to it. The roar echoed in Merlin's heart and followed him up a mountain.
-
Toward the lake, sword thrumming in his mind, plucking the same harmonic chord night and day, Merlin lost all sense of time.
Cast me out!
The sword had not an ounce more weight than any other of its size, but there was a heaviness to it. Merlin could feel it on his back with every step.
Take me to the Gates of Avalon.
When the sword left his hand it also left his mind and Merlin almost choked on the sudden lack. Magic this powerful left an almost physical space when it parted. He felt cold, alone, hungry - all those things the magic had dampened came crashing back into the void.
He shivered.
-
“You look like death, Merlin,” won out over “Where the hell have you been?” but only just. It still read clearly in Arthur's eyes as Merlin fell off the horse he'd liberated from Arthur's stables for this quest. The mare had done him a great service, perhaps she had heard the voice of Excalibur in her mind just as he had.
“I had to run an errand.”
There was fury in Arthur's worried tone, or perhaps worry in his furious glances. Merlin was too tired to parse all the intricacies of Arthur's voice, Arthur's frown, and Arthur's hands on him. He took what comfort he could get before he stumbled and the world turned upside down.
-
A new voice took hold in that empty piece of his heart, a mocking voice that rang with tenderness, a contradiction in its very essence. Merlin recognized the voice but not the words. He floated in a sea of sound, all of it Arthur, all of it vibrating on the same key as Merlin's every cell.
“You're an idiot,” Arthur said, his fingers hovering somewhere between tenderness and business. “Have I mentioned that lately? Because I'm thinking you haven't really embraced that truth about yourself.”
The words burned brightly in his mind, an echo of light and shadow. Merlin could only stare, stare at Arthur's mouth and wonder when - how! - the Prince had acquired such a keen grasp on magic. Each word a mystery as it raced across his skin, danced across his nerves like so much minute lightning.
“Merlin?”
The sound of his name, a key, a guiding light, it went straight to his core, igniting each of Merlin's senses on the way.
“Arthur,” he groaned, sounding it like Excalibur and meaning it like destiny.
-
Merlin returned to work after a week of delirium. Arthur treated him no different, but something in Merlin felt as if changed. He tried not to think about it too much.
The feeling dwindled to nothing after a few days, his excursion to the lake becoming a hazy memory.
-
It took a while before he realized what was going on. He'd grown close to Arthur through the months of serving and saving the crown prince, friendly even, and despite his failure to grasp hand signals, Merlin did pick up on other subtle cues. The roll of his eyes or a simple smirk could convey quite a tale if Merlin was paying attention.
He often caught himself paying too much attention to Arthur, to every small detail.
It wasn't surprising, then, that he would take a while to detect the shift. It seemed like natural progression. One moment he could read Arthur's smile and decipher the shape of his lips, the next he imagined the voice in his head to go along with the words.
At the midsummer feast, he began to understand that something quite significant had happened to him. It started so innocent, too. Another feast meant Arthur was bored out of his mind and therefore drawing Merlin into a silent game of chicken. They traded glances across a crowded room, pointing out ridiculous dresses, or a knight embarrassing himself by looking down a serving maid's dress. The game had only the one rule: who laughed first had lost and would be faced with horrific reparations, such as wearing a feathery hat for a week, as well as looking like an idiot in front of the court.
Merlin had managed to lose every time, so far.
“My god, if Sir Branwen hits the ale any harder, he'll drop before father is done with the toast.”
Merlin couldn't help himself at the image that crystallized in his mind, of a comically drunk Branwen lapping at a too large cup, ale swishing over the sides - he barked a sharp laugh and turned around to hide what threatened to turn into giggles.
Arthur raised a brow and Merlin could hear very clearly: “He might be more stupid than usual. Lucky that he's still pretty.”
Merlin faced Arthur to say something but could only stare, as he heard Arthur say, “Maybe there's something wrong with him...” and not move his lips at all.
He blinked, turned back to the wall, and quietly freaked out.
At which point, Arthur's actual voice sounded behind him, “What the hell, Merlin?”
-
They sat across from each other at Arthur's table. Merlin tapped his fingers. Arthur whipped his leg. Neither of them spoke but there was a constant buzz of two people decidedly trying not think of anything at all. It didn't work out exactly to plan.
“Oh my god, would you stop with the drinking songs already?”
Merlin was beginning to fray under the stress of having ninety-nine bottles of ale on his wall and trying desperately not to think of the thing.
The thing he couldn't think of with Arthur in his head.
“You know I can hear that, right?” Arthur looked constipated, like thinking of increasingly insane distractions was giving him indigestion.
“We can't do this,” Merlin said, his voice going high-pitched and fragile.
Arthur nodded, his face shuttered. “Maybe it gets better when you're not here?”
Merlin stared, his eyes wide with the sting of rejection, but Arthur grimaced before he could say anything, and pressed out between clenched teeth: “That's not what I meant. Just... let's see if distance affects it at all.”
-
Arthur kept up a chorus of nursery rhymes in his head, which made Merlin want to jump off the battlements. It was dark enough that torches had been lit all around the perimeter. Guards gave him looks as he passed, but didn't challenge his right to be there. Privilege of a manservant to the crown prince - he could go almost anywhere without much trouble.
“You know, I think that might be a security risk.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. The connection hadn't faded at all, Arthur's voice still sounded like he was standing right behind Merlin, whispering into his ear.
“Yes, because of all the people who might want to kill you for being a prat, it's me you're worried about.”
Silence, a dark swirl of thoughts Merlin couldn't grasp, and then something like a shout, in his head. “Not you, never you.”
Merlin swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He blushed to the tips of his ears, he could feel the burn under his skin. Glad that Arthur couldn't see him, Merlin shot back an image of a smile, like he imagined himself to look when Arthur won a tournament or beat a monster - something proud and warm.
“Merlin,” Arthur thought, “I-” and then a nursery rhyme again, but Merlin got the sentiment loud and clear. It filled him with warmth even out there in the night.
“Where are you?” Covering his own embarrassment at the too intimate situation, he thought of practicalities.
Arthur picked up the thread of the conversation without so much as a hitch between Rows and rows of angels singing... and “Almost down by the stables. I could probably take a horse out and ride until morning, but I doubt it will make much difference.”
Merlin had to agree. “Yeah, distance doesn't appear to affect the... it at all.” He'd caught himself just in time, shutting down all thoughts in that direction. Even the possible consequences of slipping up got shut away in a small, dark part of his mind.
If Arthur ever knew-
“If I know what?” Sudden interest spiked in Merlin's mind, and he cursed the whole situation, all the while deflecting with a bit of nonsense rambling. The disappointment he could feel from Arthur surely had to be imagination.
-
They decided over dinner that Gaius would be the best person to tell. It wasn't easy to convince Arthur that the physician could be trusted with that kind of secret without implicating himself, but somehow Merlin had managed to babble Arthur into submission.
Although a suspicious nagging at the back of his mind refused to go away. He swatted at Arthur's thoughts like they were flies and Arthur actually yelped.
“Hey!”
They stared at each other across the corridor, only steps away from Gaius' chambers. Merlin could imagine his eyes as wide as serving bowls and then it wasn't imagination anymore, but a fuzzy overlay to the real world, of what, exactly, he looked like to Arthur right that minute. Merlin shuddered and pressed his eyes closed.
“Okay,” he said, “that's new.”
Arthur grunted, but there was a steady litany of break a finger, break a leg in his head, which was almost enough to make Merlin break into helpless laughter. Almost. Merlin still had his eyes closed when Arthur dropped into a crouch next to him (how he knew Arthur's exact position was not something Merlin wanted to think about) and touched Merlin's arm.
“Hey,” Arthur said, and his voice made something tense in Merlin's belly uncurl.
Merlin leaned his head against the wall, forcing his own thoughts into a calm, indecipherable mess, while trying to keep Arthur out as much as possible. He wanted to hear what Arthur actually said, not what he couldn't help thinking.
“That's, uhm,” Arthur began, and the rest came without words, a grateful, slightly embarrassed mess of emotion. Merlin wanted to wrap the feeling around him. He was getting a bit tired of the whole situation and he was glad that it was Arthur he had to share this with.
“Me too,” Arthur said. He released a sigh, his thoughts radiating both weariness and warmth. “Let's get you to Gaius and maybe he knows what this is all about.” He very obviously didn't mention magic and Merlin got the distinct impression that it was deliberate. He clamped down on the thought to examine later.
Arthur had his hand on Merlin's back all the way to Gaius' quarters. That, too, was something Merlin wanted to think about on his own time, but Arthur caught him at it, a questioning look on his face. Then his eyes wandered to his hand and he blushed, just the faintest hint, and stubbornly left his hand there as if it belonged.
For some reason, Merlin had the feeling that one of them was - or both were - thinking exactly that.
-
Gaius frowned at them. Merlin could read the expression easily enough, but there was nothing at all behind it - not anything like the connection he now shared with Arthur, who at that very moment coughed artificially, pretending not to have heard any of Merlin's thoughts.
“I can't explain it,” Merlin said, willing Gaius to understand what he couldn't possibly say out loud. The truth was... the truth was he couldn't even pinpoint exactly when it had started.
“The feast,” Arthur mumbled, “that's when I realized.” Merlin nodded.
“So the two of you have spent the time between then and now doing what exactly?” There was something fearful in that tone, and something angry. Merlin sighed.
“We might have been testing how it worked?”
Arthur chuckled. He sat so close, Merlin could feel breath on his neck, though he didn't need that clue to sense where Arthur was or how tense his muscles were beneath his outside bluster. "It's a bit disconcerting."
Gaius raised a brow. "You don't say."
"Do you have any idea what could be causing this?"
A nod, and a warning that their own, secret part of the conversation wasn't over - and then Gaius switched into scientist mode, the problem at hand the only thing he seemed to be thinking about. "Merlin, get me the book on Myth and Folklore of the Isles down from that shelf, and Sire, if you wish to be helpful, you can start reading this." Gaius dropped a heavy tome in front of Arthur and here Merlin couldn't keep the laughter inside anymore.
Arthur shot him a glare, but his mouth was twitching. "Very funny, Mr. Go-and-Fetch." The words were silent, or else Gaius would have looked up from his perusal of the Phenomenal Handbook of Mysterious and Strange Occurrences.
Merlin's eyes widened at an image of a dog running, stick firmly in its jaw, and the distinct impression of Merlin all over the creature. He retaliated with that very same image, but adding an impression of Arthur to the stick, which earned him an unexpected blush. He hadn't meant it like that!
"If you two are quite finished, there is work to be done." Gaius' glare could not hide the old man's amusement, but Merlin felt properly chastised anyway.
They went through every book in Gaius' possession and work was slow for both Merlin and Arthur, as they were both privy to the other's text as well as their own. They gave up half-way into the third book and just sat down to share, Arthur spending rather more time looking at and silently commenting the pictures.
"I think I've got something," Merlin said, until Arthur tapped his fingers next to the image of two small girls with flowers in their hair.
"Really, let me see that." Gaius gestured for the book, but Merlin just shook his head.
"It's , uhm, it doesn't-"
Arthur thumped the back of Merlin's head. "What little Miss Sunshine here wants to say, is that unless my father has been keeping something from the kingdom about Merlin's heritage, this probably doesn't apply to us."
Gaius looked at it anyway. "Twins, hm."
The next possibility came from Arthur, or rather, it markedly didn't, but the sudden silence made Merlin sit up and search through the images Arthur had been looking at.
"Uhm," Merlin said.
The picture was truly graphic, two people entangled in ecstasy, and the description spoke of two souls joining, a one-ness of the mind.
Arthur's mind was a mess that Merlin couldn't make sense of, so he turned to Gaius. "I think that, uhm, this requires us to be married."
Arthur choked and coughed and Merlin ignored the mental flinch he got for patting his back. Gaius sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"Perhaps we should consider another option."
As Gaius spoke, resigned and tired, Merlin felt fear curl hot and tight in his stomach.
-
Merlin followed Arthur back to his chambers, putting everything out of his mind except for the rhythmic sound of their boots on the stone floor. It had something hypnotic, a calming effect, that spread through his body and into his thoughts.
Closing the heavy doors behind him, Merlin didn't know what to say, so he just stood next to his prince and master, waiting for orders. Arthur, his head bowed, didn't react to the closeness of their bodies or the hum of anxiety in Merlin's mind.
They stood for what felt like hours, Merlin with hands clenching ever tighter, Arthur breathing so low he might as well be holding his breath.
"So," Arthur started, and it all spilled out into the link. "You know magic. You lied to me. You know magic and you lied to me." It was a hot, hard, tangled mess of emotion and thought, a maelstrom that threatened to drag them both under.
Merlin nodded, thinking, "yes" and "I'm sorry" and "please forgive me" and "I never meant to hurt you".
Still, they stood, and the silence in the room was deafening.
"Merlin," Arthur said, and his voice was rough, hard-edged, laced with all the things they never said. "I should turn you over to my father. People, even valued officials of the crown, have been executed for less."
Merlin took a deep breath, though his lungs still felt constricted, burning with the lack of air. "I know." His voice, such as it was, seemed oddly without inflection to his own ears, no comparison to the tumult in his heart.
"I have always," Arthur said, "Always followed the law. No one, not even the Crown Prince, has the right to question that."
Merlin thought of the druid boy, and forced the thought into silence. He had no right to defend himself by accusing Arthur. Not like this.
Arthur shook his head, "My father is a great king, but he is wrong about magic." The words hurt Arthur, each one ripped from his tongue, and Merlin felt the pain as keenly as if it were his own. "The kind of kingdom I want to rule does not..." Arthur swallowed, and the anger in his eyes no longer burned like fire. Merlin forced his hands open and rested one at the base of Arthur's neck.
"Camelot should not judge people for the way they are born, only for their deeds."
Merlin felt tears well up in his eyes and he bit his lip. "Arthur, I-"
But Arthur cut him off. "I'm not finished." He looked fierce, dangerous, a wild animal driven mad by hunger or pain. Merlin did not fear him, for his mind was a whirlwind of fire and ice, but Merlin stood safe and protected at the center of it. An undercurrent of mine and Merlin ran counter to all the harsh words that dropped from Arthur's lips.
"I won't let you be punished for your magic," Arthur said, "not on my life."
Merlin gasped. The promise seared hot across their bond, burning everything in its way. Merlin began to understand just what Arthur had been hiding on his part. Arthur looked into Merlin's eyes, searching, and his hands found purchase on Merlin's hips. They were now facing each other, a foot apart, their hearts' beat speeding up at the tension that built between them.
"I asked you once about your magic and you lied to me. How can I trust you now?"
Merlin felt the insecurity, the fear, the desire, everything Arthur felt, and the sensation rushed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him with its intensity. This was his moment and he gripped it with both hands, his eyes locked onto Arthur's, his fingers digging into Arthur's skin. He opened himself, opened his mind to Arthur, and let everything go.
Magic began to hum between them, singing along the path that connected their minds. Arthur's eyes widened and then, on a shuddering breath, he crushed their mouths together.
It was a messy kiss, hard and wet and filthy. They came up for air like drowning men, and need brought them together again like the pull of the tide. Merlin's hands tugged at Arthur's shirt, needing it off. Arthur made a low sound at the back of his throat, something growly and sharp that curled under Merlin's skin.
"C'mon," Arthur said into Merlin's mouth, "you're wearing far too many clothes." An intense flash of skin on skin shot through Merlin's mind, Arthur had quite the imagination.
Merlin pushed himself back, his hands cupping Arthur's jaw, Arthur's hands holding Merlin's body tight against his. "Arthur:" He didn't need to say more, all of it rang in the air between them, how beautiful he thought Arthur to be, how he could not imagine a world without him.
Arthur closed his eyes and turned his cheek into Merlin's touch. The gesture seemed tender, almost sweet, not like the burning passion that waited at the back of their minds. "Merlin," Arthur said, his thoughts a jumble of need and want and love, "no more talking." He opened his eyes, their fire one of the hottest things Merlin had ever seen.
Merlin pulled Arthur in and kissed him hard, no thoughts left between them, just the taste of their skin, salt and sweat, the sound of their breaths, heavy and fast.
Falling into bed, Merlin couldn't tell where one of them began and the other ended. A hand splayed possessively on a hip, Merlin's perhaps, another dug deep into the skin of his back, or Arthur's, or both. Merlin was hard against the soft skin of Arthur's hip, an echoing hardness right against his own, the friction building with every thrust, with every frantic breath.
He licked the spot behind Arthur's ear, down to his jaw, and felt the touch on his own skin, a trail of fire. Arthur cupped the back of Merlin's head, his thumb drawing small circles on Merlin's scalp. They stared at each other and there was nothing separating them but air, no barriers left at all.
Arthur's hand brought them both off, and his lips found Merlin's as their world narrowed to each other and bloomed into white light.
-
Merlin's hand lay on Arthur's chest, the touch feathery soft, echoed on his own skin. It was the strangest sensation, to feel Arthur's body as he felt his own, an extension of self rather than another person. He sighed and let his head rest on Arthur's shoulder, mindful not to aggravate an old injury that had flared up again during a gruesome sparring session, only two days ago. It disturbed him to know this, to know every muscle and bone so intimately.
Arthur played with Merlin's hair. "You think too much."
Merlin snorted. "We can't all be so empty-headed."
While the link between them had grown stronger still, their bodies becoming two halves of the same - no, Merlin refused to think coin and Arthur chuckled at the image of the dragon - entity, their minds had calmed and thrown up natural barriers. The background noise had transformed into a soft hum, and only their surface thoughts shone through, if they allowed it. They were still thrumming with shared emotion and every time Arthur's breath quickened, Merlin could feel his own heart pick up the pace.
"I should have you sacked for talking to me like this, I am still the prince, you know."
Merlin grinned into Arthur's skin. "Of course you are."
Arthur kept stroking his hair, even as he tried to sound put out - which undermined the effect somewhat, when he said, "You should show some respect."
"Oh," Merlin said, "I respect you plenty, my Lord."
Merlin's ears turned red as he realized how those last words sounded to Arthur. They called up an image of the day they'd met for the second time and a strong feeling of possessiveness and lust. "Oh."
Arthur projected what was by all means a mental shrug, and grinned to himself, though Merlin didn't need to raise his head off his shoulder to see it, feel it, taste it on his own lips. "Don't let this go to your head," Arthur said, his fingers playing with the hair, "you're still a servant."
Merlin looked up, then, and Arthur bent to kiss his forehead, marking the statement as the lie it was.
-
They snuck into Gaius' chambers before dawn, trading only heated glances and light, almost innocent touches. Maintaining an air of decorum, while Arthur imagined vividly how he would bend Merlin over a table or push him up against a wall. Merlin spent most of their hurried walk through dark castle corridors blushing furiously and insinuating the things he could do with his tongue.
Arrived at their destination, Arthur stood somewhat lost between the scientific equipment, the herbal concoctions and the stacks of ordinary, non-magic books. Merlin crept toward Gaius' bed and touched the old man's shoulder, saying his name.
Gaius opened his eyes and jumped out of bed. "Merlin!" The relief warred with disbelief in his voice, and a thought from Arthur remarked how no one seemed to trust him with anything. It felt like a pout in Merlin's head.
Gaius crushed Merlin into a hug, and for a moment, all Merlin could feel was love and joy and a new, free life for him. Then, from the corner of his mind that he'd labeled Arthur came a wave of jealousy so intense, Merlin stiffened against the onslaught. Images crashed into his thoughts, a lonely boy surrounded by scary, lifeless toys; a dark man, with the Pendragon crest emblazoned on his chest (it burned brightly, lit by some kind of inner fire); Uther, his back turned; Uther frowning; Uther, Uther, Uther. Merlin looked up to meet Arthur's eyes. His face was impassive, perhaps a little tight around the lips, nothing at all reflecting on it.
Arthur shut himself down, the thoughts stopped as fast as they'd come, and there was an eerie, painful silence where the soft hum of Arthur's mind was supposed to be. Merlin could feel it, still, but Arthur had put such a tight clamp on his emotions, he himself would not have been able to access them.
"Arthur," Merlin said, letting go of Gaius and holding out his hand. "Come here."
Arthur's expression tightened. "I don't need your pity."
Merlin took a slow breath, putting all of his anger at Uther, his fears and desires, his own insecurities, on the surface, laid out for Arthur to peruse. "This isn't pity."
Arthur swallowed hard and though his movements seemed reluctant, he stepped forward and didn't flinch when Merlin threw his arms around him. Merlin pressed them close together, burying his head in the place between Arthur's neck and shoulder. Arthur relaxed against him, ever so slowly, as if he'd never been hugged.
It loosened a torrent of emotion in Arthur, impossible to hold back, and it lapped around them both like waves at a rock. Without letting go, without so much as retreating a single inch, Merlin began to weave words into the sea of emotion. "It's alright, you know, he does love you. He does." Merlin concentrated on the memory of Uther and the sword, only days ago, when he'd been willing to die for his son.
Arthur didn't sniffle, but his voice was suspiciously rough when he spoke. "I know."
Merlin smiled. "And if all else fails, you'll always have me." He'd intended it to be light-hearted and simple, a promise but not an oath, not this urge to bind himself to Arthur. Arthur understood, both the meaning behind the words and how it was intended, so he didn't push it, for once.
"Great," Arthur said, "a rubbish servant all to myself."
Before Merlin could bite Arthur's ear and start something right there in the lab, a gruff voice interrupted them. "If you two are quite finished," Gaius said, "we still have to find out how to help you stay out of each other's heads."
-
Merlin tapped a simple rhythm on the table next to the heavy tome he was ploughing through. Da-da-da-dun. The words began to make less and less sense, already it took him three read-throughs of a page to comprehend what it was about. They'd been at it for hours. Arthur sat on Merlin's bed, curled over a small leather-bound book on the history of magic.
"There's a reference here to a collection of old stories," Arthur said, "of course, they are oral tales and only a bard would know enough to be of any use."
Merlin frowned. "Your father doesn't entertain bards."
Arthur rolled his eyes and thought idiot at him, though he seemed unable to mask the affection beneath the word. "No bard would be stupid enough to come to Camelot after what Father threatened to do to anyone who portrayed magic in a positive light. Taliesin himself was the last bard at court, years ago."
"What happened?" Merlin felt dread creep up his spine.
"Mind you, I was only six or seven at the time, I'm not sure how much of this is true. But the Great Bard came when one of his own was to be executed."
Merlin closed the book, too fascinated by Arthur's story to concentrate on anything else. "Did he do any magic?"
"No, the bard just sang a song. It was about a foolish king who was cursed to have no children, and his beautiful wife wasted away at the thought to be barren all her life." Something in Arthur's voice broke Merlin open and let the story come to life between them, a moment of magic if he'd ever felt one. "The king loved his wife very much and so he asked many wise men for help in the matter. There were, however, no remedies to cure the will of nature. Finally, he asked his court magician for help in the matter. The witch was very powerful and with her magic, the king and his wife managed to conceive. But with every day the child grew in strength inside her, the queen lost months of her life. She died during childbirth and as much as the king had wanted a child, he could never get over the death of his beloved wife."
Merlin swallowed. The images faded away, but still he could recognize the face of the king as Uther. The bard had told the story of Arthur's birth. Arthur looked away, his thoughts still deep in the events of the past. "I didn't realize at the time," Arthur said, "Not until now, really. It's-"
"What happened with the bard?" Merlin was desperate to stop the spiral of thought Arthur was going down. It could not end well - there was no one to blame in a tragedy like that.
Arthur blinked, forcing himself back to where they had started. "Taliesin came to speak on the bard's behalf and because there was some kind of deal between him and my father. He called in a debt for the life of the man; my father was furious having to grant it. When they left, he decreed that no bard should ever set foot in Camelot again."
Merlin caught sight of his hand tapping again, or still. He couldn't quite explain why the rhythm bothered him.
"Perhaps someone in Ealdor can help. It's not in the kingdom, there've been bards travelling through, although I don't remember them ever staying long enough to tell a story."
Arthur shrugged, drawing Merlin's attention to his hands. "It's worth a try."
The prince had a couple of nervous gestures that came out whenever he was under stress. He liked to pace a room, or worry his fingernails. He never rapped his fingers against anything, not like this, not like Merlin would.
Da-da-da-dun. And then he did.
"I think," Merlin said, his gaze glued to Arthur's fingers, "We might have another problem."
-
Perhaps, Merlin thought, they'd been sabotaging themselves in their search for a cure.
"You think?" Arthur's intrusion wasn't unwelcome, which was half the problem.
The connection between them was intense and kind of annoying, but it was nice being this close to someone he loved. Even across the castle, Merlin could feel Arthur squirm at that thought. Squirm in a good way, blushing lightly, and drawing up all kind of images of the things he'd do to Merlin when he got out of the meeting with his father.
But then he was back to border disputes and knighting ceremonies, more royal bureaucracy than anyone except the king ever needed to know, and Merlin tuned it out as much as possible, hoping that his reading didn't interfere with Arthur's no doubt important decision making process. About vegetables.
"What?"
Arthur really wanted to roll his eyes at that, "Shut up, Merlin."
Merlin chuckled, "You know that most of those vegetables are going to end up in my face anyway."
Arthur returned his full attention to the king and his advisors while Merlin sifted through a few more ancient texts, letting the talk of politics and diplomacy lull him into a kind of half trance, until he wasn't quite sure where he was. At the subject of war, Arthur got a little agitated, especially when Sir Galehaut pointed out their weakness in the West.
"Merlin!" Panic, suddenly, so fast and hard, it made his eyes snap open. Merlin ran toward the northern hall with such speed, he almost tripped twice, all the while trying to connect to Arthur, who seemed so completely out of it there was no getting through. At least his voice was there, and his heartbeat, even as it fluttered like a panicked bird.
Merlin burst through the doors, propriety be damned.
Arthur turned to him, his eyes flashing gold. Merlin looked around the room - the frozen room - every occupant stuck in time like a fly in amber.
"Oh."
Arthur's eyes widened, "Merlin. What the hell just happened?"
"I think," Merlin said, "you just used my magic."
-
Merlin's eyes kept straying to Arthur in the practice fields, going through the same motions over and over, and failing every so often. He'd dropped his sword earlier this morning. Merlin had felt it crush his toes. Arthur never dropped his sword, he'd grown up with it, an extension to his arm.
"It's getting worse," Merlin said.
Gaius sighed. "We've sent word to Ealdor, there isn't anything else we can do right now."
Outside, Arthur stumbled over his own feet and cursed. Merlin had to repeat Gaius' words in his head to make sense of them. "There's something."
-
The dragon swooped down despite his threat that he would not help Merlin unless it was life and death. He scrutinized them both with narrowed eyes, looking for all the world like the monster people made him out to be.
"This is a really bad idea," Arthur hissed.
Merlin ignored him. "We need help," he said to the dragon.
"Ah," the dragon said, "I can see that."
"What do you mean?"
The dragon chuckled. "When you betrayed me, you betrayed the magic in every stone, in every plant, every creature."
Next to him, Arthur fidgeted. "You pissed off a dragon? What kind of idiot are you?"
Merlin glared at the prince. "Arthur, be quiet or he might just decide to eat you."
"Let this be a lesson to you, young warlock. The old magic always protects itself and works toward balance."
With that, he reared backward, standing on his powerful hindlegs, and flapping his great wings to stay upright. It was a magnificent sight.
"But how can that help us?"
"This magic cannot sustain itself, Merlin." He tensed, about to leap up into the air. "But it's not a sorcerer you are looking for." He pushed himself off and flew into the heights of the cave, chain rattling below him.
"Well," Arthur said, no small measure of awe in his voice, "that was different."
Merlin stared after the dragon. "Yeah, you get used to it. Besides, most of what he says is nonsense anyway." He tried, and failed, not to think of any of his previous conversations with the dragon.
Arthur, of course, picked up on it right away. "Two sides of a coin, really?"
Merlin shrugged. "Nonsense, as I said."
-
They slept entwined, close as skin on skin allowed. They walked together in dreams.
A voice in the darkness called out to them, "Come!" it said, and they came forward, through shadowed forests and sodden caves. "Come!" it said.
They came upon a lake that glittered in an unnatural sun, so bright, they had to shield their eyes from it. Their other hands entangled, they walked forward without sight, and only the beat of their hearts for guidance.
"Come!"
The water bore them easily and they walked as if on the softest meadow.
"Come!"
The island felt alive, trembling with the beat of a magical heart. They stopped and opened their eyes. In front of them, all around them, crystal and rock had grown into a flower and at its heart...
At its heart, there was the answer.
-
They both looked up when Gaius called Merlin's name, and the frown on his face deepened at something he found in their eyes.
"You both look like you haven't had any sleep."
"Bad dreams," they both said in unison, not quite aware of the synchronism.
Gaius shook his head, slowly, not taking his eyes off them. He looked worried. "What was it about?"
Merlin shrugged, but it was Arthur who spoke. "Can't remember."
"I've been thinking about what you said last night," Gaius said, "and I think the answer might be a cursed object, a powerful magical artifact of some kind."
Merlin gasped. "Of course!"
Beside him Arthur twitched, his expression turning dark and cloudy. "You know, I never actually got to use it."
Gaius crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation, but Merlin was too excited. How could he have been so stupid, the answer was so obvious! Arthur just rolled his eyes and threw in that if Gaius hadn't drugged him, this would likely not be a problem at all.
"Merlin?"
He blinked, then, trying to focus on his friend and mentor. "Hm?"
"What is going on?"
And Merlin grinned, wide and open like the road he could see ahead of him. "The sword, Gaius. Excalibur."
-
Arthur complained, holding on to a part of himself that threatened to drown in the ever increasing mess of them by being as much of an arse as he could possibly conceive of. Merlin gave as good as he got, whacking Arthur across the back of the head with a magical tendril. The magic flowed so freely between them now that it snapped right back and hit him in the face, courtesy of Arthur, Prince of Prats.
"Really?"
Arthur shrugged. "You deserved it."
Their horses carried them across the mountains, always following the magical trail, never wavering despite their fear and hunger. The animals grew haggard with the strain as time passed and the world changed into something half-seen, a shadow realm.
Merlin felt the magic of Excalibur tug at his heart, and Arthur scowled in disapproval. "Let's make camp."
They lay together at night, watching the stars, touching for the sake of touch, fighting the lure of the sword. It spoke to them, now, and their unity could no more bear the strength of it than a man could bear the weight of a kingdom.
"The way seems longer than you remember."
A smile. "It's magic."
-
"Come!" said Excalibur.
And they came.
-
The lake had changed. An island had risen from its depths, made of glittering rock, and at its center there was an altar of stone. Within the stone, as if driven into it by an angry god, stuck the sword Excalibur, burning with the fire of thirty suns.
"So what do we do now?" Arthur's eyes locked onto the sword.
Merlin frowned. "Honestly? I haven't the slightest clue."
The sword pulsed with light. Come closer.
Arthur looked at Merlin, eyes almost comically wide. "I suppose we could do what the nice magical object is telling us."
"Are you scared?"
"You're the expert on magic here. Should I be scared?"
Merlin tore his gaze from Arthur to glance at the sword. Where it had been magnificent in the dragon cave, incredible in the hands of Uther, it was divine now, a king of swords - the sword of the greatest king there would ever be.
Do not fear. Come, Arthur Pendragon, king of kings, and fulfill your destiny.
Merlin reached out to grab Arthur's arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Something isn't right here."
Myrddin Emrys, do not interfere.
Arthur shook with the effort not to move, there was something alluring and powerful about the sword. The magic drew him in, but Merlin stood strong and sure at his back. He didn't move, despite every cell urging him forward, despite all his thoughts singing with its beauty and power.
"Excalibur!" Merlin yelled, "We have come to request that you release us from your spell."
Silence. A magical wind started up around them. "Remember how we talked about not pissing off the powerful magical beings?"
Merlin laughed. "Release us!"
The magic ripped at them, tore at their clothes, and threw itself against them with terrible strength. Arthur stood his ground and his hand kept Merlin close. Safe.
"Release us!" Arthur said, his voice breaking despite his best efforts.
A howling like wolves and falcons, like death and darkness, sprang up and assaulted their ears. Still they stood and did not move toward the sword, and did not fall back toward safety.
You are strong, both of you. The power you have refused today will one day become yours to wield. Like a great king, the sword cannot stand alone. The scabbard must protect the blade.
Suddenly, the air was calm.
"Arthur?" Merlin sounded odd to his own ears. Lonely.
Arthur looked lost. "You know," he said, swallowing, "I wouldn't have believed it if you'd told me, but I really miss the... the thing."
Merlin felt around in his own mind, now fully his and his alone, and it felt-
"Yeah. It sort of grows on you, doesn't it?"
It felt like only half of a whole. One side of a coin. He wondered how the coin could stand it.
"Let's go home. We wouldn't want to miss the feast."
Arthur smiled, his small, private smile that always had an edge of pain and loss. Merlin smiled back, offering everything he had with a simple expression. "Of course, Sire. We wouldn't want to miss that."
"You're an idiot, Merlin," Arthur said, and it sounded like "I love you."
-
Alone, the sword and the sheath are among the most powerful magical items in history.
Together, they are unstoppable.