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z_fic2011-07-30 06:29 am
zoicite.livejournal.com) wrote in z_fic2011-07-30 06:29 am
Entry tags:
Fic :: Merlin :: The Stumble and the Fall :: Part 2: The Fall
Title: The Stumble and the Fall
Part 2/2: The Fall
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17 (though not particularly graphic)
Word Count: ~11,700 (story total is 22,350)
Notes: Set during the latter half of the 1st season
Summary: The infatuation is understandable. Arthur understands completely and quite honestly, he’s flattered. Merlin’s feelings are not the problem. The problem - the thing that Arthur can’t quite figure out - is why Merlin has begun spying on him.
link to Part 1: The Stumble
Arthur watches in disbelief as Merlin disappears around the turn at the end of the corridor.
“He’s getting away!” Serrick shouts. He pushes against Arthur, pushes at his nameless partner, can’t seem to find his footing and falls again to his knee.
Finally, with Merlin out of sight, Arthur’s brain kicks into gear again. He moves, shoves Serrick away from him and stands, knocking the other man’s hand away when he reaches out to help.
“Sound the alarm,” Arthur says. His voice sounds hard, stony.
The search begins in the castle. Merlin isn’t a complete idiot. He won’t be hiding here, but it makes the most sense to start here. And then there is the part that Arthur isn’t ready to admit to himself quite yet: it may give Merlin more time.
Warlock. Sorcerer. Wizard. Magician.
Arthur can’t wrap his head around it.
He should be furious. He should feel betrayed. He thinks maybe it explains everything. The kisses and the stangeness between them. Maybe it was Merlin all along. Maybe Arthur has merely been a puppet forced to dance on Merlin’s strings since Merlin’s arrival at Camelot.
Maybe Merlin is guilty of everything. All of this.
It’s in the back of his mind even as Arthur purposely slows the pace of his search, even as he worries that they’ll find Merlin around every corner, as he holds his breath when he enters every unsearched room.
**
When Arthur bursts into Gaius’s rooms, Gaius doesn’t stand, just sits at his rickety old table and says, “He isn’t here.”
“You know,” Arthur says. He’s not sure if he means the arrest or the magic.
“I’ve heard,” Gaius says, assuming Arthur means the arrest.
Arthur moves to stand in front of Gaius. His posture is straight, formal, unfeeling. “Do you know where he may have gone? If you know, you must tell me. You know the punishment for harboring a traitor.”
“I don’t know,” Gaius says. “He’s very small. He could be hiding anywhere.”
Arthur smiles despite himself. It really isn’t the time for such jokes.
He continues his search, striding across the room and throwing open the door to Merlin’s chambers, unsurprised to find the room empty and undisturbed. Merlin didn’t come back for anything.
Gaius is still sitting at the table when Arthur returns.
Arthur pauses, leans against the wood of the table, touches the half empty bottles strewn about.
“You don’t think Merlin is actually responsible for this enchantment, do you, Gaius?”
“No,” Gaius says, looks up and meets Arthur‘s eyes. “I think Merlin would do everything in his power to make sure that you do not come to harm, my lord.”
Arthur snorts, almost makes a comment about ‘everything in Merlin’s power’, but he knows now. He knows that he’s always underestimated Merlin, that Merlin is capable of so much more than Arthur has ever guessed.
Everything in his power.
“He won’t be executed for this,” Arthur says, assuring Gaius and admitting it, finally, to himself. Arthur isn’t angry, not really, and he doesn’t feel betrayed. He doesn’t believe that Merlin’s been manipulative with him, he doesn’t believe that Merlin craves power. There is a reason Merlin kept this from him and it is a good one.
“You’ll need to get to the bottom of this enchantment to have any hope of convincing your father of Merlin’s innocence,” Gaius points out.
“I know,” Arthur agrees “You’ve been researching, haven’t you? All of those books you had around. What have you learned?”
“Not much,” Gaius admits. “The events haven’t been frequent enough for us to get a handle on the patterns. I only know that there is magic involved. Merlin - pardon me for admitting this - searched your chambers twice for any sort of poultice or charm that could link you to the spell, but he’s found nothing.”
“He searched my chambers,” Arthur repeats.
“Twice,” Gaius confirms.
Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, reminds himself that Merlin is only trying to help him. Merlin would do anything in his power.
“I’m afraid that unless the strange occurrences continue, we’ve come to a dead end,” Gaius says. “And with Merlin accused -” He shrugs helplessly.
Arthur leans in close to Gauis and with his voice low, he says, “My men won’t find him. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make time.”
**
It’s late afternoon before the search expands into the forest. Arthur is wary, isn’t entirely convinced that Merlin is capable of avoiding detection.
“You, men,” Arthur directs. “Check by the stream. You, head toward the caves.”
Once his men have dispersed Arthur moves straight into the woods, toward an area of large rocky outcrops, a labyrinth of thick trees and impermeable stone. It isn’t as open as the stream and less obvious than the caves. If Arthur wanted to hide yet stay relatively close to the castle, this is where he would go.
“Merlin,” Arthur hisses. He hopes that Merlin isn’t actually close enough to hear him, not yet. He moves forward, quietly calls to Merlin periodically. He’s within the outcrops now and he calls out a little louder. He calls twice more before he hears a noise off to his right and turns in that direction.
“I’m alone,” Arthur says, unsure if he’s speaking to Merlin or a carelessly loud squirrel.
“Over here,” Merlin says, and Arthur turns toward his voice.
Merlin emerges from a fissure between two outcrops, large enough for a man to hide comfortably within. Arthur nods in approval. It’ll work for now.
“About what you saw,” Merlin starts immediately. He has his hands up in surrender and his expression is open, pleading.
“I didn’t see anything,” Arthur says immediately, shakes his head. Arthur isn’t sure yet what to think, what to say. They can discuss this later, once Merlin’s head is off the block. For now they must focus on the task at hand. They must clear Merlin‘s name.
“Let me explain,” Merlin continues as though Arthur hasn’t spoken at all.
“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts. “It’s okay. I didn’t see anything.”
“You didn’t,” Merlin repeats.
“No,” Arthur says, slowly, eyebrows raised.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Arthur says. “Now can we please stop prattling on about this and try to figure out who is behind it all? Or do you like your new home in the woods?”
“Even though - you don’t think it was me?” Merlin asks, and Arthur watches as Merlin‘s shoulders visibly relax.
“Why would you be trying to kill me?” Arthur scoffs.
It finally seems to sink in then that Arthur doesn’t plan to arrest Merlin at all and Merlin grins, ducks his head and says, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re pompous, spoiled, self-centered - “
“Hey, now.”
“Because I’ve seen you purposely step in horse dung just so I’d have to clean and polish your boots. Again.”
Arthur laughs. “So you do prefer your new home in the woods.”
Merlin sniffs, looks around, then turns back to Arthur.
“Nah,” he says. “Too damp. Smells funny.”
There’s a noise, movement in the direction of the stream, and Arthur lowers his voice and gets to the point. “Listen. I can’t stay now. I sent my men to the stream but it won’t take them long to realize that you aren’t there.”
“So you really aren’t going to turn me in,” Merlin confirms.
“For the millionth time, Merlin. I don’t see why I would,” Arthur says.
Merlin smiles, shakes his head.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Merlin says. “I just wasn’t sure - I thought you‘d be angry.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Arthur says. “I am angry. Now stay close and I’ll return after nightfall. We need a plan.”
Merlin’s still smiling at him and Arthur huffs a little, shoves at Merlin’s shoulder. The silly grinning can wait until Merlin’s name is cleared. Happiness is premature. Even so, Arthur finds it contagious, catches himself smiling too. He reaches out and shoves Merlin once more for good measure.
“Give me your scarf,” Arthur demands.
“What for?” Merlin asks, but he pulls it loose from his neck and hands it to Arthur.
Arthur shoves in into his tunic, hidden from sight.
“Don’t get caught,” Arthur says, and then he takes his leave of Merlin and heads back toward the stream.
**
Arthur and his men fan out into the forest. When they reach the borders of his father’s land, Arthur drops Merlin’s neckerchief to the ground, kicks at the dead leaves that blanket the forest floor until the neckerchief is partially concealed. He moves a short distance away and then calls Sir Leon to his side.
“How thoroughly did your men search the cave?” Arthur asks.
“There was no sign of Merlin there,” Leon assures him. He isn’t looking at Arthur, is squinting as he looks past him instead.
“Leon,” Arthur says, feigns annoyance.
“Sire,” Leon says absently. He steps past Arthur, walks the short distance to the neckerchief and picks it up. He pulls the fabric through his fingers and then, when Arthur joins him, Leon hands the strip of red fabric to Arthur.
“It’s Merlin’s,” Arthur confirms.
“He’s made it out of Camelot,” Leon notes.
Leon doesn’t seem overly disappointed by this news. Somehow, the fact that his trusted knights don’t believe in Merlin’s guilt, somehow it makes a difference to Arthur.
“Call off the men,” Arthur orders.
**
His father is furious. He rails on about Arthur’s incompetence, on the incompetence of Arthur’s men to let someone as clumsy and simple as Merlin escape them. He thinks, of course, that this proves Merlin’s guilt.
“The innocent don’t run,” Uther confirms.
It isn’t true. The innocent do run. They run if they know they’ll be killed for something they haven’t done. They run if they know that there is no hope.
**
Merlin and magic. As dusk settles over Camelot, Arthur is still trying to wrap his head around it all.
There’s no telling how strong Merlin might be. Maybe it’s just a little magic. Some moving statues, that’s all. Surely a little magic won’t bring down the entire kingdom. A novice as slow and dimwitted as Merlin surely doesn’t deserve to be executed over this.
Arthur says it often, thinks it, but he’s never been sure if Merlin actually is as much of an idiot as he sometimes seems. Merlin has always had moments where he’s seemed wise, where he’s provided valuable insight and has even shown remarkable bravery.
Arthur understands the threat that his father feels from magic, the feeling that a king’s control can be so easily lost. A king cannot be the most powerful voice when there are those who possess the power of magic.
Arthur thinks of the smile on Leon’s face when he realized that Merlin had escaped beyond their reach. It would be wise, Arthur says, for Merlin to leave Camelot. It would be wise for him to leave and never return. It would be the best thing for Merlin. He can seek company among the druids, find a place where he’ll truly fit, where he won’t be put to death for possession of power.
Arthur twists Merlin’s neckerchief in his hands. He lifts it to his face and breathes it in, then, disgusted with himself, he throws it to the floor.
Yes, Arthur decides. He must convince Merlin to leave. The enchantment will be broken and they can be through with this present fixation, with these ridiculous yearnings. Merlin must leave Camelot and save them both.
**
Arthur waits until well after dark and then he slips from his chambers, through the dark deserted halls of the castle. He slides into dark corners when he hears voices and thinks how ridiculous it is that he, of all people, should be hiding from his own knights. Finally he’s out of the castle, stalking silently through the town.
Alone in the dark of the woods, he lights a torch and then moves quickly, snapping sticks beneath his feet.
They’d concluded at the end of their search that Merlin had left Camelot, that he’d escaped and wouldn’t return. Arthur called his men out of the forest, told them to keep an eye out for Merlin around the village while they went about their usual duties. Now Arthur can walk briskly through the forest without fear of running into his search party, sure he isn‘t being followed. He makes it to the labyrinth of rock and trees in moments and whispers Merlin‘s name.
Arthur navigates the terrain until he finds the fissure where Merlin had been hiding earlier that day. It’s empty now. He presses his hand to the rock and brings his torch forward to peer into the darkness.
He’s about to turn when he hears a noise behind him and he freezes. When he feels the hand on his shoulder, he drops the torch into the dirt and turns. Arthur defends himself instinctively, whipping around and grabbing the offending arm. It isn’t until he has his attacker pushed up against a large boulder, the light from the torch flickering across their faces, that he realizes it’s only Merlin.
“It’s me,“ Merlin says. “It’s just me.“ He throws up his hands in surrender, and Arthur removes his hand from the hilt of his sword, brings it up to curl against Merlin’s neck instead, his thumb at Merlin’s jaw.
Merlin looks up and meets Arthur’s eyes in the dark, just for a moment, a mere second, but it’s long enough. They understand each other and Merlin reaches for Arthur, kisses him.
This time Arthur is pretty sure that he knows what this is for, is pretty sure he knows that Merlin isn’t just doing this because he is in Arthur’s employ. Frankly, Merlin probably doesn’t even need Arthur, doesn’t need this position, is here because - Maybe he is here for the same reason that Arthur is here, standing in the forest kissing his fugitive manservant. Maybe Merlin cares for Arthur, cares what happens to him. Maybe Merlin even likes him.
Merlin’s thin hands press against either side of Arthur’s face, holding him close, his kisses hot and open, trusting Arthur entirely for what Arthur realizes now is probably the first time.
Arthur means to break the kiss, means to steer them back to the issue at hand, but when he opens his mouth, Merlin pushes forward, his tongue pressing inside. Arthur is aroused, has been from the moment Merlin kissed him, but he feels it flare and curl within him as Merlin pushes against him, takes the initiative, steers the moment. Their mouths slide against each other and Arthur could laugh at himself for thinking that Merlin may have used magic to manipulate his feelings in this matter. This isn’t magic. But this kiss, forbidden and wanting and wet, it’s a spell that works far better than any sorcery ever has.
Merlin yanks at Arthur, pulls him closer until the full length of him is pressed against Merlin, pinning him against unyielding stone. Arthur feels Merlin, hard against his thigh, and he shifts, moves his leg closer still. Merlin’s fingers grip hard at Arthur’s shoulders as Merlin rocks against Arthur’s leg.
Arthur keeps close, mouth hungry as it kisses Merlin, as Merlin finds pleasure against Arthur‘s body. Arthur takes one hand from Merlin’s arm, his fingers fumbling with his own belt. He struggles alone for only a brief moment before Merlin catches on, releases Arthur’s shoulders and comes to Arthur’s aid. Merlin, with months of experience helping Arthur undress, has Arthur’s belt unfastened in no time. He lets it fall, Arthur’s sword knocking against his leg as it goes down.
For a brief moment Arthur thinks that this is exactly what an enemy would do, get Arthur vulnerable, strip him of his weapons. He leans back away from Merlin‘s kiss to look at Merlin.
Merlin’s eyes are dark, his face in shadow, illuminated only briefly by the light of the dying torch.
Merlin doesn’t look like he’s plotting anything. Merlin doesn’t look like he could form much of a coherent thought at all at this point, let alone be planning to seduce Arthur only to betray him. Merlin’s hands are at the waist of Arthur’s trousers, his arousal still pressed to Arthur‘s thigh, and when Arthur doesn’t do anything right away, Merlin leans in again and his mouth grazes Arthur’s jaw, his nose bumps against Arthur’s cheek.
Arthur finds Merlin’s mouth again, kisses him as Merlin pushes Arthur’s trousers down his hips. Merlin breaks their kiss so that he can glance down, so that he can look at Arthur now that he‘s exposed. It‘s quiet for a moment except for the heavy sound of their breathing and Arthur feels self-conscious. He‘s about to question Merlin, to ask if everything meets his approval, some other smart remark, but he doesn‘t have a chance. Merlin breaks the moment. His fingers wrap around Arthur, sure and firm, and Arthur’s mouth falls open, his eyes fall shut.
Arthur moans, low and quiet as Merlin’s hand works him, as he continues to thrust against Arthur. Merlin‘s fingers pull pleasure from him, slide over him, around him.
“Like this?” Merlin asks.
Exactly like that, and Arthur grunts and holds harder to Merlin. He’s close and he presses his hand hard to the rock behind Merlin, thrusts through the ring of Merlin’s hand. They kiss again, mouths sliding against each other. Arthur’s mouth misses its mark in the increasingly frantic movement of their bodies and he kisses Merlin’s cheek, his breath hot and wet on Merlin’s skin, and then shifts and finds Merlin’s lips again.
Arthur is loud when release barrels through him, taking him by surprise though it has been building in him forever. Merlin shushes him, tries to kiss Arthur as Arthur buckles against him. The release courses through Arthur so that he’s shaking with it, spent, his entire heart coursing out and onto Merlin’s hand.
Eventually Arthur manages to compose himself and he kisses Merlin again and again, deep and thorough.
It’s Merlin’s turn now and Arthur’s never done this before, not like this, but every touch of Merlin’s fingers ignited a fire within him, every movement increased Arthur’s pleasure, and Arthur is eager to return the favour. Arthur tastes Merlin’s tongue, loves the wet slide of it against his own, loves the promise in the dance of their kiss now that he can concentrate on it and take it in.
Merlin moves desperately against him and Arthur owes Merlin, owes him pleasure in return for pleasure given. Arthur slides a hand between their bodies, cups the bulge at the front of Merlin’s trousers, presses and feels Merlin’s heat through the fabric. Merlin moans and pushes into Arthur’s palm. His fingers clutch at Arthur as he pushes into Arthur’s hand once more, then again, and then he’s shuddering against Arthur, would slump to the ground if not for the pressure of Arthur’s body holding him against the rock.
Arthur holds tightly to Merlin, is disappointed to have it over so quickly, though he’s thrilled by the way that Merlin still jerks just a little in his hand, by Merlin‘s ragged breath against his neck.
When Merlin is able to stand on his own, he looks up and meets Arthur‘s eyes. Arthur takes a step back, releases the pressure on Merlin‘s groin.
“Really, Merlin,” Arthur says, his tone just slightly exasperated.
Merlin stares at him for a moment, and then his whole face transforms, lights up the dark forest, and he laughs.
**
They walk to the stream, clean off in the cool water there. On their way back to Merlin’s camp, Merlin collects firewood. Arthur sits on a fallen log and waits as Merlin piles the wood and begins to attempt lighting it.
Arthur watches him struggle with the flint for a moment and then says, “Can’t you - don’t you know how to light that?” He doesn’t say the last part, the part that makes the sentence important. Don’t you know how to light that with magic?
Merlin stops what he’s doing, stares at the pile of wood for a moment and then says, “Yeah, I do.”
“Well,” Arthur says, and waves a hand indicating that Merlin should proceed.
Merlin looks around as though there might be someone spying on them, waiting for Merlin to agree to do just this sort of thing.
“We’re alone,” Arthur assures him. Truth be told, Arthur is interested. He almost doesn’t believe what he saw in the corridor, could easily be convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him.
Merlin seems unsure for a few more moments, and then eventually he turns back toward the pile of sticks. He raises his hand, palm open toward the pile, and then says a word that Arthur doesn’t recognize. Merlin’s eyes glow in the darkness and the wood bursts into flame, the fire taking hold, flames dancing merrily.
Merlin wipes his hands on his trousers and moves back to sit beside Arthur.
“This is strange,” Arthur admits.
“Yeah,“ Merlin agrees with a sigh.
He’s seen it twice now but he’s still having a hard time wrapping his head around it. Merlin and magic. Merlin. He’s been conditioned to believe that magic is inherently evil, that there can be no good in it. He’s never been as passionate in this stance as his father, but even so, it’s difficult to see direct evidence that proves that his father must be wrong. Merlin practices magic and Merlin isn’t evil. Stupid at times, perhaps, clumsy and lazy, infuriating, but certainly not evil.
Arthur came here intending to push Merlin away, convince him to leave. He planned to lie if he had to, tell Merlin that Serrick saw Merlin in the corridor, tell him that there is no way to prove his innocence now. There is nothing Merlin can do but run.
Arthur doesn‘t want to say any of this now. He doesn‘t want Merlin to leave at all.
“I spoke with Gaius this afternoon,” Arthur says, then thinks about it a moment longer and admits, “I don’t know how to get to the bottom of this.”
“I think I have an idea,” Merlin says.
“Really?”
“Sometimes I have ideas,” Merlin retorts. “It’s just that you never listen to them.”
Arthur snorts. If he remembers correctly, he listened when Merlin said that the castle was enchanted. He listened when Merlin told him not to tell his father, to try to figure it out themselves. He listened when Merlin decided to spend a week holed up in his chambers. Arthur’s done nothing but listen to Merlin lately.
“I escaped through the caves,” Merlin continues. “While I was down there I felt something. I think whatever started all of this may be hidden in the tunnels beneath the castle.”
“You felt something,” Arthur repeats.
“Yeah,” Merlin says. “It’s the magic. When I get near someone or something else that has a lot of it, sometimes I can feel it. It’s like the air moves differently.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur asks.
“I don’t tell anyone,” Merlin shrugs.
“But you must talk to someone,” Arthur says. “Gaius surely knows.”
Merlin nods. “Gaius knows. No one else in Camelot.”
“You could have told me,” Arthur says.
“I wasn’t sure,” Merlin admits.
“You could have,” Arthur insists, though honestly he’s not sure he would have listened. He’s not sure he would have taken it so well if Merlin’s life wasn’t already on the line, if they weren’t already so tangled in each other, in this.
Merlin smiles, nods, looks down at the ground.
They’re quiet for a while until eventually Arthur sighs and stands, holds out a hand for Merlin.
“What are we doing?” Merlin asks.
“We’re going to find what you felt in the caves,” Arthur says.
**
The town is quiet as Arthur and Merlin slip through it, heading to the entrance to the vaults that run beneath the castle. They stick to the alleys and the dark corners before finally arriving at the entrance undetected.
Once they’re within the vault, Arthur hands Merlin a torch and Merlin lights it for him with a word.
It’s a handy trick, Arthur must admit.
“This way,” Merlin says, and Arthur follows.
They walk for a while, turning left and right, and Arthur memorizes their route in his head, maps it so that they’ll be able to find their way back, so that he’ll be able to find the location again if he needs to. The castle seems to sigh above them, heavy and sleeping.
“Sometimes when I’m down here it’s almost as though I can feel Camelot breathing,” Arthur says. “As though the castle is alive.”
“It’s not the castle,” Merlin says, absently.
“What?” Arthur asks.
“Never mind,” Merlin says. “We’re close. I can feel it.”
They round a corner and Merlin stops short, says, “There.”
“What?” Arthur asks. He peers ahead and doesn’t see anything. Arthur slips past Merlin, the torch thrust out in front of him. He moves forward and then he sees it, attached to the ceiling of the passageway, a dark orb that appears to grow directly out of the stone above his head.
“What is it?” Arthur asks.
“Be careful,” Merlin warns, but Arthur ignores him and takes a step closer so that he‘s standing directly beneath the sphere. There are markings on the surface and Arthur raises his torch to get a better look.
“Look here,” Arthur says. He reaches out to touch the markings. Two arrowheads that intersect, a circle at their center. “This must be the source.”
“Don’t touch it,” Merlin says.
Arthur ignores Merlin and continues to run his fingers across the sphere. He can feel a small lip where the stone meets the orb and realizes it isn’t a full sphere at all, but a dome with a flat base, fixed to bedrock of the tunnel.
“Arthur,” Merlin says again.
Arthur can just barely get his fingers beneath the edge. He pulls, but the dome doesn’t budge. Its surface is warm to the touch, much warmer than the surrounding stone.
Merlin’s moved forward now to stand beside Arthur, and he peers up at the dome as well.
“It’s warm,” Arthur notes, and Merlin reaches up to press his fingers to test the temperature.
The entire room lights up as soon as Merlin’s fingers brush the surface, the light flashes like lightening and Merlin shouts as they’re both pushed back, thrown against the wall of the tunnel. Arthur looks up, squints in the light. He sees something move and he grabs at Merlin, shouts. The vision is pale and shimmering in the air of the room, but definitely there. A woman, laughing at them.
He’s seen her before.
“I know her,” Arthur says.
“Nimueh,” Merlin breathes. Arthur doesn’t recognize the name, but he’s sure he’s seen the woman before.
The vision fades, the passage goes dark once more.
Arthur stands, helps Merlin to his feet.
“This is it,” Arthur says, excited. He grips Merlin, shakes him a little. “Here is the proof of your innocence.”
“You don’t have to say it that way,” Merlin says. “I’m not really innocent at all, am I?”
“Of course you are,” Arthur says, dismisses Merlin. Arthur’s preoccupied, examining the dome once more. There appears to be water dripping down it now and as Arthur watches, the liquid pools at the dome’s lowest point, then drips, one drip, then another and another onto the floor of the passage. The drops of liquid are black on the brown of the stone.
“We should ask Gaius,” Merlin says.
Arthur nods and begins to lead them back the way they came.
**
Once he’s returned Merlin safely to the forest, Arthur heads straight to the physician’s chambers. Gaius is asleep, which Arthur expects, but he rouses quickly when Arthur bursts into his room.
“Arthur,” Gaius gasps. “What’s happened? Have they caught Merlin?”
“No,” Arthur says. “Merlin is safe. We’ve found the source of the magic.”
“Where?” Gaius asks, immediately awake and alert.
Arthur describes the dome to Gaius, describes the markings upon it, the dripping pool beneath it, and the force of it when Merlin touched it.
Gaius takes all of this in and then, ignoring the task at hand for a moment, asks, “How long have you known? About Merlin?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Arthur says.
Gaius watches Arthur, reading him, gauging him. Arthur shifts under Gaius’s gaze, self conscious. They don’t have time for this. He’s about to open his mouth to say as much, but Gaius speaks first.
“You’re growing into a great man, Arthur,” Gaius concludes.
Arthur wants to protest. He thinks that if it were really true Arthur wouldn’t have wondered if turning Merlin in might be the right thing to do. Merlin and Gaius wouldn’t have had to keep this from him.
“Thank you,” Arthur says, finally, knows it’s what is expected. “So what is it?”
“What you’ve described isn’t something I’ve encountered before,” Gaius admits. “And the woman. Merlin recognized her as Nimueh?”
“That was the name that he said,” Arthur confirms. He’s bothered that Merlin and Gaius seem to understand the circumstances far better than Arthur does. “I’ve seen her before.”
“Yes,” Gaius agrees. “I believe that you have.” He’s opening a book, flipping through it and shaking his head with each page that passes. He mumbles to himself, turns another page.
Arthur clears his throat and Gaius looks up, raises an eyebrow. Arthur sighs, gives in and sits down at the table beside Gaius, opens another volume and joins in the search.
**
It’s the slowest most boring day of Arthur’s life. Arthur spends hours hunched in the hard chair beside Gaius. His eyes glaze over as he peruses page after page of strange creatures and objects of magic. He leaves periodically to attend to his duties, finds them to be a relief, but he spends every spare moment of the day with Gaius, trying to identify the strange dome beneath the castle.
By early evening Arthur is having a hard time concentrating, finds that he‘s been staring at the same page for half an hour. He sighs, pushes his hair back from his forehead, leans back in his chair.
“Nothing yet?” he asks Gaius.
Gaius grunts and shakes his head and turns a page.
Arthur picks up another book, reads the title, sets it back down. He picks up another. Magical Beasts of the Realm. It‘s one of the books he remembers seeing in Merlin‘s chambers during Merlin‘s week off. The dome isn‘t a beast as far as Arthur can tell and he sets the book aside.
“You know,” Arthur says, just because he can‘t handle the quiet any longer. “The possession of many of these texts could be seen as treason.”
“They are historical,” Gaius says, his voice calm, not rising to Arthur‘s prodding. He doesn’t even look up. “Research and anthologies. There is no book of spells here.”
Gaius is lying. Merlin is learning from somewhere and Arthur isn’t stupid. He knows Gaius must be helping him. Arthur knows little of Gaius’s past, but he does know that Gaius has been a loyal servant to his father for many years, long before magic was outlawed in the kingdom. Not for the first time, Arthur wonders what services Gaius performed for the king in the past.
“There are books in the vaults,” Arthur says. “Maybe they contain the information that we need.”
Gaius raises an eyebrow. “Those books are in the vaults for a reason,” he points out, voice careful now.
“Would this go faster if I were to leave?” Arthur asks finally. He has no doubt that Gaius is in possession of books like those in the vaults, books of spells, books of magic. If Gaius has information that he’s afraid to share with Arthur, information that would help them understand the dome and the enchantment, Arthur will gladly leave so that Gaius can peruse undisturbed and without witness by the son of his king.
“It would go faster if you helped, Sire,” Gaius returns, unruffled.
Arthur sighs again and goes back to the book open in front of him.
It‘s nearing midnight when Arthur turns a page and once again comes face to face with the dome hidden beneath the castle.
“Here it is!” Arthur says. He stands and sets his book atop the one that Gaius has open, points to the illustration. “This is it, but only half of it.”
Gaius peers down at the drawing, seems to take an age to look it over.
“How do we destroy it?” Arthur pushes. He leans close over Gaius’s shoulder. He’s impatient now, ready for all of it to be over. He remembers Merlin, sitting by a fire in the forest, waiting alone while Arthur and Gaius conduct their research. Arthur amends the previous thought. He isn’t ready for all of it to be over, just most of it.
“The Orb of Undun,” Gaius reads. He pauses, his finger marking the first line as though he might lose his place. “I’ve heard of the orb but have never set sight on one myself.”
“How do I destroy it?” Arthur asks again.
“The orb contains powerful magic. When the two halves are separated a field is created between them and the master of the device may lay a curse on those who reside within. The orb cannot be destroyed by magic or by force when the halves are separate. Only the master or the accursed may reassemble the orb and only then may it be destroyed.”
“The other half is somewhere within the castle,” Arthur concludes.
“It would seem so,” Gaius agrees, turning to regard Arthur.
“Wonderful,” Arthur says. He grips Gaius’s shoulders for a moment in thanks and then grabs his sword and takes his leave of the physician’s chambers.
**
He goes straight to the forest. When he comes upon Merlin‘s camp he finds Merlin‘s fire going, but no sign of Merlin.
“Merlin,” he says. Merlin had better just be practicing caution, had better just be out collecting more firewood. The alternative - the alternative is that he’s been caught by Arthur’s men, or worse, by someone else. Arthur pulls his sword.
“Merlin,” Arthur says again, louder. He hears the edge in his own voice and he clears his throat, tells himself not to panic.
“I’m here,” Merlin says, appearing from behind patch of thick trees. “I heard you coming, wasn’t sure.”
They stand together, still for a moment, regarding each other. It’s Merlin, finally, who shrugs, rubs his hands together and moves closer to his fire. Arthur returns his sword to its sheath and follows.
“I’ve spent the day with Gaius,” Arthur says. “We’ve learned how to destroy the orb.”
“What is it?” Merlin asks. He adds a few more sticks to the fire.
“An Orb of Undun,” Arthur says.
“Oh,” Merlin says, nods knowingly.
Arthur squints. “You know of it?”
“Never heard of it,” Merlin says. He grins at Arthur, seems pleased with his little joke.
Arthur gives Merlin a look, and then tells Merlin all that he knows, about the two halves, about the field of power, about the manner in which it must be destroyed.
Merlin takes this in, nods, thoughtful.
“I just need to find the second half,” Arthur concludes.
“That should be easy,“ Merlin says.
“What do you mean?“
“If the orb creates a field between the two pieces, the second half must be somewhere that would encompass the entire castle,” Merlin guesses.
Arthur thinks on this for a moment and then slaps his knee. “The roof. Of course.”
It’s the only other place they haven’t searched. But where on the roof?
“It would be located at the highest point,” Arthur says.
“The turrets at the gate?” Merlin suggests.
Arthur thinks for a moment. The turrets are certainly the highest point, Merlin’s right about that. Arthur shakes his head. “My men are there often. The dome would have been seen. It would have to be somewhere that no one goes.”
There are many turrets and towers, many places to hide something so small. The turrets at the gate are too busy, but the east tower, with its steep conical roof, is nearly as high. As soon as Arthur thinks it, he knows he must be right.
“The roof of the east tower,” Arthur says, his voice sure.
“The east tower is tall,” Merlin says.
“It’s the tallest,” Arthur says. “After the turrets.”
“Taller than the west tower?”
Arthur sees where Merlin is going with this. And he’s right. The east and west towers are the same height. But the east tower seems higher. The east tower seems right.
“It’s on the east tower,” Arthur says, his voice firm.
“All right,” Merlin says. He rubs his hands together. “The east tower.”
Merlin looks like he’s gearing up for an adventure and Arthur raises his eyebrows, regards him. “What’s that? What are you doing?”
Merlin falters, then smiles and says, “I’m going with you.”
Arthur shakes his head.
“There’s no way I can get you through the castle undetected. You’re a fugitive now, Merlin. You won’t have two days if you’re caught. You’ll have two hours before you’re executed.”
Merlin shrugs and Arthur isn’t sure if it’s because he thinks Arthur will be able to absolve him or if Merlin knows that he can easily escape.
“I’ll investigate the roof at first light,” Arthur decides. “You will stay here.”
Arthur stays by Merlin’s fire that evening. They lie beside each other, stare up at the stars over Camelot. Eventually Arthur turns toward Merlin, leans in to kiss him. Arthur is tired, too tired for more than this, but for now it’s enough that Merlin easily kisses him back. It’s good enough to feel how well their mouths fit together, to know that they haven‘t moved past this over the course of the day. It comforts Arthur, to know this, to return to this with Merlin, but it troubles him too. What if what is happening between them is lasting? What if it doesn’t fade in a few days, in a few weeks? Arthur kisses Merlin and thinks of what his father would say if he knew.
“A love spell,” Uther would gasp, his face a mask of horror and fear.
All roads suddenly seem to lead to Merlin’s execution.
**
Arthur looks out one of the uppermost windows in the east tower. It’s the highest point in the castle. After the turrets, anyway. And possibly the west tower. Arthur pushes the pane open and sits on the windowsill. He looks down into the inner ward of the castle, at his men milling about below. It’s a long way down.
Arthur sucks in a large breath, fills his cheeks with it, then lets it out in a heavy sigh. Might as well get it over with. He leans out and eyes the ledge above the window. It isn’t far. It will be easy to hoist himself up to it.
Arthur climbs up onto the sill, then turns, standing. He reaches up to grab hold of the ledge. It‘s as easy as it looks to hoist himself up. He‘s there in a matter of moments. The sloped roof of the tower is steep and Arthur pulls himself up onto the ledge, leans in against the roof, then scans the surface. There is nothing there and he curses and begins to slowly make his way around the tower.
Finally on the north side he spots it. The other half of the orb. It’s fixed flat to the roof several feet further up than Arthur can reach with his feet planted firmly on the ledge. He runs his hands along the plane of the roof, finally finds an edge where his boot may catch. He lifts his leg and tests it. It holds.
Arthur uses the lip to push himself up until finally his hands are gripping the dome. He pulls but it doesn’t budge.
“Come on,” Arthur grunts.
It’s beginning to occur to Arthur how stupid it was to come up here while cursed with some sort of clumsiness spell. On the other hand, if he’s holding the dome he should be out of the range of the curse. But then it’s unclear to Arthur how these things work, it’s unclear if the field can extend past the two halves of the orb, and if so, how far?
Just then the orb seems to hear his doubts, seems to realize the advantage that it has with him and it releases its hold on the roof, surprising Arthur so that he loses his balance and slides down the slope. He braces himself, prays that his feet catch on the ledge. They do, but he hits fast, jarring him so that he loses his balance, starts to fall back. He flails the arm not holding the dome, tries to stabilize himself, but it’s too late. He’s going to fall back, he’s going to plummet to his death. He‘ll be found by a villager, battered and broken at the base of the castle.
Arthur closes his eyes and braces himself for the fall, for the rush of air and unforgiving impact of landing. Then he feels it. A hand at his back, steadying him, pushing him back toward the roof, back onto the ledge. Arthur holds tight to the dome even as he grasps at the roof, presses his face to it. He could kiss its surface now that they’ve been reunited. He stands there, tries to calm down, to slow his heart and take a few deep breaths.
When he feels his heart start to slow just a little, Arthur moves. He slips the orb into the bag he has tied to his belt and then he inches slowly back around toward the open window.
Safely back within the tower, he turns to look out the window. He looks down at the fields and the forest that surrounds Camelot. His heart swells a little, the same way it always does when he pauses to take it all in. One day Arthur may be king of all of this.
He sees movement on the edge of the forest and he pauses, squints, tries to get a better look. He sees a small figure there, standing for just a moment before turning and disappearing into the trees. It’s Merlin, he’s sure. Watching him, saving his life.
Arthur wonders how many times this has happened before with them. How many times and Arthur just didn’t realize, wasn’t aware of what was happening? How many times would Arthur have been hurt, worse, killed, had he not had Merlin at his side?
Continue with Part 2: The Fall
Part 2/2: The Fall
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17 (though not particularly graphic)
Word Count: ~11,700 (story total is 22,350)
Notes: Set during the latter half of the 1st season
Summary: The infatuation is understandable. Arthur understands completely and quite honestly, he’s flattered. Merlin’s feelings are not the problem. The problem - the thing that Arthur can’t quite figure out - is why Merlin has begun spying on him.
link to Part 1: The Stumble
Arthur watches in disbelief as Merlin disappears around the turn at the end of the corridor.
“He’s getting away!” Serrick shouts. He pushes against Arthur, pushes at his nameless partner, can’t seem to find his footing and falls again to his knee.
Finally, with Merlin out of sight, Arthur’s brain kicks into gear again. He moves, shoves Serrick away from him and stands, knocking the other man’s hand away when he reaches out to help.
“Sound the alarm,” Arthur says. His voice sounds hard, stony.
The search begins in the castle. Merlin isn’t a complete idiot. He won’t be hiding here, but it makes the most sense to start here. And then there is the part that Arthur isn’t ready to admit to himself quite yet: it may give Merlin more time.
Warlock. Sorcerer. Wizard. Magician.
Arthur can’t wrap his head around it.
He should be furious. He should feel betrayed. He thinks maybe it explains everything. The kisses and the stangeness between them. Maybe it was Merlin all along. Maybe Arthur has merely been a puppet forced to dance on Merlin’s strings since Merlin’s arrival at Camelot.
Maybe Merlin is guilty of everything. All of this.
It’s in the back of his mind even as Arthur purposely slows the pace of his search, even as he worries that they’ll find Merlin around every corner, as he holds his breath when he enters every unsearched room.
**
When Arthur bursts into Gaius’s rooms, Gaius doesn’t stand, just sits at his rickety old table and says, “He isn’t here.”
“You know,” Arthur says. He’s not sure if he means the arrest or the magic.
“I’ve heard,” Gaius says, assuming Arthur means the arrest.
Arthur moves to stand in front of Gaius. His posture is straight, formal, unfeeling. “Do you know where he may have gone? If you know, you must tell me. You know the punishment for harboring a traitor.”
“I don’t know,” Gaius says. “He’s very small. He could be hiding anywhere.”
Arthur smiles despite himself. It really isn’t the time for such jokes.
He continues his search, striding across the room and throwing open the door to Merlin’s chambers, unsurprised to find the room empty and undisturbed. Merlin didn’t come back for anything.
Gaius is still sitting at the table when Arthur returns.
Arthur pauses, leans against the wood of the table, touches the half empty bottles strewn about.
“You don’t think Merlin is actually responsible for this enchantment, do you, Gaius?”
“No,” Gaius says, looks up and meets Arthur‘s eyes. “I think Merlin would do everything in his power to make sure that you do not come to harm, my lord.”
Arthur snorts, almost makes a comment about ‘everything in Merlin’s power’, but he knows now. He knows that he’s always underestimated Merlin, that Merlin is capable of so much more than Arthur has ever guessed.
Everything in his power.
“He won’t be executed for this,” Arthur says, assuring Gaius and admitting it, finally, to himself. Arthur isn’t angry, not really, and he doesn’t feel betrayed. He doesn’t believe that Merlin’s been manipulative with him, he doesn’t believe that Merlin craves power. There is a reason Merlin kept this from him and it is a good one.
“You’ll need to get to the bottom of this enchantment to have any hope of convincing your father of Merlin’s innocence,” Gaius points out.
“I know,” Arthur agrees “You’ve been researching, haven’t you? All of those books you had around. What have you learned?”
“Not much,” Gaius admits. “The events haven’t been frequent enough for us to get a handle on the patterns. I only know that there is magic involved. Merlin - pardon me for admitting this - searched your chambers twice for any sort of poultice or charm that could link you to the spell, but he’s found nothing.”
“He searched my chambers,” Arthur repeats.
“Twice,” Gaius confirms.
Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, reminds himself that Merlin is only trying to help him. Merlin would do anything in his power.
“I’m afraid that unless the strange occurrences continue, we’ve come to a dead end,” Gaius says. “And with Merlin accused -” He shrugs helplessly.
Arthur leans in close to Gauis and with his voice low, he says, “My men won’t find him. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make time.”
**
It’s late afternoon before the search expands into the forest. Arthur is wary, isn’t entirely convinced that Merlin is capable of avoiding detection.
“You, men,” Arthur directs. “Check by the stream. You, head toward the caves.”
Once his men have dispersed Arthur moves straight into the woods, toward an area of large rocky outcrops, a labyrinth of thick trees and impermeable stone. It isn’t as open as the stream and less obvious than the caves. If Arthur wanted to hide yet stay relatively close to the castle, this is where he would go.
“Merlin,” Arthur hisses. He hopes that Merlin isn’t actually close enough to hear him, not yet. He moves forward, quietly calls to Merlin periodically. He’s within the outcrops now and he calls out a little louder. He calls twice more before he hears a noise off to his right and turns in that direction.
“I’m alone,” Arthur says, unsure if he’s speaking to Merlin or a carelessly loud squirrel.
“Over here,” Merlin says, and Arthur turns toward his voice.
Merlin emerges from a fissure between two outcrops, large enough for a man to hide comfortably within. Arthur nods in approval. It’ll work for now.
“About what you saw,” Merlin starts immediately. He has his hands up in surrender and his expression is open, pleading.
“I didn’t see anything,” Arthur says immediately, shakes his head. Arthur isn’t sure yet what to think, what to say. They can discuss this later, once Merlin’s head is off the block. For now they must focus on the task at hand. They must clear Merlin‘s name.
“Let me explain,” Merlin continues as though Arthur hasn’t spoken at all.
“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts. “It’s okay. I didn’t see anything.”
“You didn’t,” Merlin repeats.
“No,” Arthur says, slowly, eyebrows raised.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Arthur says. “Now can we please stop prattling on about this and try to figure out who is behind it all? Or do you like your new home in the woods?”
“Even though - you don’t think it was me?” Merlin asks, and Arthur watches as Merlin‘s shoulders visibly relax.
“Why would you be trying to kill me?” Arthur scoffs.
It finally seems to sink in then that Arthur doesn’t plan to arrest Merlin at all and Merlin grins, ducks his head and says, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re pompous, spoiled, self-centered - “
“Hey, now.”
“Because I’ve seen you purposely step in horse dung just so I’d have to clean and polish your boots. Again.”
Arthur laughs. “So you do prefer your new home in the woods.”
Merlin sniffs, looks around, then turns back to Arthur.
“Nah,” he says. “Too damp. Smells funny.”
There’s a noise, movement in the direction of the stream, and Arthur lowers his voice and gets to the point. “Listen. I can’t stay now. I sent my men to the stream but it won’t take them long to realize that you aren’t there.”
“So you really aren’t going to turn me in,” Merlin confirms.
“For the millionth time, Merlin. I don’t see why I would,” Arthur says.
Merlin smiles, shakes his head.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Merlin says. “I just wasn’t sure - I thought you‘d be angry.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Arthur says. “I am angry. Now stay close and I’ll return after nightfall. We need a plan.”
Merlin’s still smiling at him and Arthur huffs a little, shoves at Merlin’s shoulder. The silly grinning can wait until Merlin’s name is cleared. Happiness is premature. Even so, Arthur finds it contagious, catches himself smiling too. He reaches out and shoves Merlin once more for good measure.
“Give me your scarf,” Arthur demands.
“What for?” Merlin asks, but he pulls it loose from his neck and hands it to Arthur.
Arthur shoves in into his tunic, hidden from sight.
“Don’t get caught,” Arthur says, and then he takes his leave of Merlin and heads back toward the stream.
**
Arthur and his men fan out into the forest. When they reach the borders of his father’s land, Arthur drops Merlin’s neckerchief to the ground, kicks at the dead leaves that blanket the forest floor until the neckerchief is partially concealed. He moves a short distance away and then calls Sir Leon to his side.
“How thoroughly did your men search the cave?” Arthur asks.
“There was no sign of Merlin there,” Leon assures him. He isn’t looking at Arthur, is squinting as he looks past him instead.
“Leon,” Arthur says, feigns annoyance.
“Sire,” Leon says absently. He steps past Arthur, walks the short distance to the neckerchief and picks it up. He pulls the fabric through his fingers and then, when Arthur joins him, Leon hands the strip of red fabric to Arthur.
“It’s Merlin’s,” Arthur confirms.
“He’s made it out of Camelot,” Leon notes.
Leon doesn’t seem overly disappointed by this news. Somehow, the fact that his trusted knights don’t believe in Merlin’s guilt, somehow it makes a difference to Arthur.
“Call off the men,” Arthur orders.
**
His father is furious. He rails on about Arthur’s incompetence, on the incompetence of Arthur’s men to let someone as clumsy and simple as Merlin escape them. He thinks, of course, that this proves Merlin’s guilt.
“The innocent don’t run,” Uther confirms.
It isn’t true. The innocent do run. They run if they know they’ll be killed for something they haven’t done. They run if they know that there is no hope.
**
Merlin and magic. As dusk settles over Camelot, Arthur is still trying to wrap his head around it all.
There’s no telling how strong Merlin might be. Maybe it’s just a little magic. Some moving statues, that’s all. Surely a little magic won’t bring down the entire kingdom. A novice as slow and dimwitted as Merlin surely doesn’t deserve to be executed over this.
Arthur says it often, thinks it, but he’s never been sure if Merlin actually is as much of an idiot as he sometimes seems. Merlin has always had moments where he’s seemed wise, where he’s provided valuable insight and has even shown remarkable bravery.
Arthur understands the threat that his father feels from magic, the feeling that a king’s control can be so easily lost. A king cannot be the most powerful voice when there are those who possess the power of magic.
Arthur thinks of the smile on Leon’s face when he realized that Merlin had escaped beyond their reach. It would be wise, Arthur says, for Merlin to leave Camelot. It would be wise for him to leave and never return. It would be the best thing for Merlin. He can seek company among the druids, find a place where he’ll truly fit, where he won’t be put to death for possession of power.
Arthur twists Merlin’s neckerchief in his hands. He lifts it to his face and breathes it in, then, disgusted with himself, he throws it to the floor.
Yes, Arthur decides. He must convince Merlin to leave. The enchantment will be broken and they can be through with this present fixation, with these ridiculous yearnings. Merlin must leave Camelot and save them both.
**
Arthur waits until well after dark and then he slips from his chambers, through the dark deserted halls of the castle. He slides into dark corners when he hears voices and thinks how ridiculous it is that he, of all people, should be hiding from his own knights. Finally he’s out of the castle, stalking silently through the town.
Alone in the dark of the woods, he lights a torch and then moves quickly, snapping sticks beneath his feet.
They’d concluded at the end of their search that Merlin had left Camelot, that he’d escaped and wouldn’t return. Arthur called his men out of the forest, told them to keep an eye out for Merlin around the village while they went about their usual duties. Now Arthur can walk briskly through the forest without fear of running into his search party, sure he isn‘t being followed. He makes it to the labyrinth of rock and trees in moments and whispers Merlin‘s name.
Arthur navigates the terrain until he finds the fissure where Merlin had been hiding earlier that day. It’s empty now. He presses his hand to the rock and brings his torch forward to peer into the darkness.
He’s about to turn when he hears a noise behind him and he freezes. When he feels the hand on his shoulder, he drops the torch into the dirt and turns. Arthur defends himself instinctively, whipping around and grabbing the offending arm. It isn’t until he has his attacker pushed up against a large boulder, the light from the torch flickering across their faces, that he realizes it’s only Merlin.
“It’s me,“ Merlin says. “It’s just me.“ He throws up his hands in surrender, and Arthur removes his hand from the hilt of his sword, brings it up to curl against Merlin’s neck instead, his thumb at Merlin’s jaw.
Merlin looks up and meets Arthur’s eyes in the dark, just for a moment, a mere second, but it’s long enough. They understand each other and Merlin reaches for Arthur, kisses him.
This time Arthur is pretty sure that he knows what this is for, is pretty sure he knows that Merlin isn’t just doing this because he is in Arthur’s employ. Frankly, Merlin probably doesn’t even need Arthur, doesn’t need this position, is here because - Maybe he is here for the same reason that Arthur is here, standing in the forest kissing his fugitive manservant. Maybe Merlin cares for Arthur, cares what happens to him. Maybe Merlin even likes him.
Merlin’s thin hands press against either side of Arthur’s face, holding him close, his kisses hot and open, trusting Arthur entirely for what Arthur realizes now is probably the first time.
Arthur means to break the kiss, means to steer them back to the issue at hand, but when he opens his mouth, Merlin pushes forward, his tongue pressing inside. Arthur is aroused, has been from the moment Merlin kissed him, but he feels it flare and curl within him as Merlin pushes against him, takes the initiative, steers the moment. Their mouths slide against each other and Arthur could laugh at himself for thinking that Merlin may have used magic to manipulate his feelings in this matter. This isn’t magic. But this kiss, forbidden and wanting and wet, it’s a spell that works far better than any sorcery ever has.
Merlin yanks at Arthur, pulls him closer until the full length of him is pressed against Merlin, pinning him against unyielding stone. Arthur feels Merlin, hard against his thigh, and he shifts, moves his leg closer still. Merlin’s fingers grip hard at Arthur’s shoulders as Merlin rocks against Arthur’s leg.
Arthur keeps close, mouth hungry as it kisses Merlin, as Merlin finds pleasure against Arthur‘s body. Arthur takes one hand from Merlin’s arm, his fingers fumbling with his own belt. He struggles alone for only a brief moment before Merlin catches on, releases Arthur’s shoulders and comes to Arthur’s aid. Merlin, with months of experience helping Arthur undress, has Arthur’s belt unfastened in no time. He lets it fall, Arthur’s sword knocking against his leg as it goes down.
For a brief moment Arthur thinks that this is exactly what an enemy would do, get Arthur vulnerable, strip him of his weapons. He leans back away from Merlin‘s kiss to look at Merlin.
Merlin’s eyes are dark, his face in shadow, illuminated only briefly by the light of the dying torch.
Merlin doesn’t look like he’s plotting anything. Merlin doesn’t look like he could form much of a coherent thought at all at this point, let alone be planning to seduce Arthur only to betray him. Merlin’s hands are at the waist of Arthur’s trousers, his arousal still pressed to Arthur‘s thigh, and when Arthur doesn’t do anything right away, Merlin leans in again and his mouth grazes Arthur’s jaw, his nose bumps against Arthur’s cheek.
Arthur finds Merlin’s mouth again, kisses him as Merlin pushes Arthur’s trousers down his hips. Merlin breaks their kiss so that he can glance down, so that he can look at Arthur now that he‘s exposed. It‘s quiet for a moment except for the heavy sound of their breathing and Arthur feels self-conscious. He‘s about to question Merlin, to ask if everything meets his approval, some other smart remark, but he doesn‘t have a chance. Merlin breaks the moment. His fingers wrap around Arthur, sure and firm, and Arthur’s mouth falls open, his eyes fall shut.
Arthur moans, low and quiet as Merlin’s hand works him, as he continues to thrust against Arthur. Merlin‘s fingers pull pleasure from him, slide over him, around him.
“Like this?” Merlin asks.
Exactly like that, and Arthur grunts and holds harder to Merlin. He’s close and he presses his hand hard to the rock behind Merlin, thrusts through the ring of Merlin’s hand. They kiss again, mouths sliding against each other. Arthur’s mouth misses its mark in the increasingly frantic movement of their bodies and he kisses Merlin’s cheek, his breath hot and wet on Merlin’s skin, and then shifts and finds Merlin’s lips again.
Arthur is loud when release barrels through him, taking him by surprise though it has been building in him forever. Merlin shushes him, tries to kiss Arthur as Arthur buckles against him. The release courses through Arthur so that he’s shaking with it, spent, his entire heart coursing out and onto Merlin’s hand.
Eventually Arthur manages to compose himself and he kisses Merlin again and again, deep and thorough.
It’s Merlin’s turn now and Arthur’s never done this before, not like this, but every touch of Merlin’s fingers ignited a fire within him, every movement increased Arthur’s pleasure, and Arthur is eager to return the favour. Arthur tastes Merlin’s tongue, loves the wet slide of it against his own, loves the promise in the dance of their kiss now that he can concentrate on it and take it in.
Merlin moves desperately against him and Arthur owes Merlin, owes him pleasure in return for pleasure given. Arthur slides a hand between their bodies, cups the bulge at the front of Merlin’s trousers, presses and feels Merlin’s heat through the fabric. Merlin moans and pushes into Arthur’s palm. His fingers clutch at Arthur as he pushes into Arthur’s hand once more, then again, and then he’s shuddering against Arthur, would slump to the ground if not for the pressure of Arthur’s body holding him against the rock.
Arthur holds tightly to Merlin, is disappointed to have it over so quickly, though he’s thrilled by the way that Merlin still jerks just a little in his hand, by Merlin‘s ragged breath against his neck.
When Merlin is able to stand on his own, he looks up and meets Arthur‘s eyes. Arthur takes a step back, releases the pressure on Merlin‘s groin.
“Really, Merlin,” Arthur says, his tone just slightly exasperated.
Merlin stares at him for a moment, and then his whole face transforms, lights up the dark forest, and he laughs.
**
They walk to the stream, clean off in the cool water there. On their way back to Merlin’s camp, Merlin collects firewood. Arthur sits on a fallen log and waits as Merlin piles the wood and begins to attempt lighting it.
Arthur watches him struggle with the flint for a moment and then says, “Can’t you - don’t you know how to light that?” He doesn’t say the last part, the part that makes the sentence important. Don’t you know how to light that with magic?
Merlin stops what he’s doing, stares at the pile of wood for a moment and then says, “Yeah, I do.”
“Well,” Arthur says, and waves a hand indicating that Merlin should proceed.
Merlin looks around as though there might be someone spying on them, waiting for Merlin to agree to do just this sort of thing.
“We’re alone,” Arthur assures him. Truth be told, Arthur is interested. He almost doesn’t believe what he saw in the corridor, could easily be convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him.
Merlin seems unsure for a few more moments, and then eventually he turns back toward the pile of sticks. He raises his hand, palm open toward the pile, and then says a word that Arthur doesn’t recognize. Merlin’s eyes glow in the darkness and the wood bursts into flame, the fire taking hold, flames dancing merrily.
Merlin wipes his hands on his trousers and moves back to sit beside Arthur.
“This is strange,” Arthur admits.
“Yeah,“ Merlin agrees with a sigh.
He’s seen it twice now but he’s still having a hard time wrapping his head around it. Merlin and magic. Merlin. He’s been conditioned to believe that magic is inherently evil, that there can be no good in it. He’s never been as passionate in this stance as his father, but even so, it’s difficult to see direct evidence that proves that his father must be wrong. Merlin practices magic and Merlin isn’t evil. Stupid at times, perhaps, clumsy and lazy, infuriating, but certainly not evil.
Arthur came here intending to push Merlin away, convince him to leave. He planned to lie if he had to, tell Merlin that Serrick saw Merlin in the corridor, tell him that there is no way to prove his innocence now. There is nothing Merlin can do but run.
Arthur doesn‘t want to say any of this now. He doesn‘t want Merlin to leave at all.
“I spoke with Gaius this afternoon,” Arthur says, then thinks about it a moment longer and admits, “I don’t know how to get to the bottom of this.”
“I think I have an idea,” Merlin says.
“Really?”
“Sometimes I have ideas,” Merlin retorts. “It’s just that you never listen to them.”
Arthur snorts. If he remembers correctly, he listened when Merlin said that the castle was enchanted. He listened when Merlin told him not to tell his father, to try to figure it out themselves. He listened when Merlin decided to spend a week holed up in his chambers. Arthur’s done nothing but listen to Merlin lately.
“I escaped through the caves,” Merlin continues. “While I was down there I felt something. I think whatever started all of this may be hidden in the tunnels beneath the castle.”
“You felt something,” Arthur repeats.
“Yeah,” Merlin says. “It’s the magic. When I get near someone or something else that has a lot of it, sometimes I can feel it. It’s like the air moves differently.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur asks.
“I don’t tell anyone,” Merlin shrugs.
“But you must talk to someone,” Arthur says. “Gaius surely knows.”
Merlin nods. “Gaius knows. No one else in Camelot.”
“You could have told me,” Arthur says.
“I wasn’t sure,” Merlin admits.
“You could have,” Arthur insists, though honestly he’s not sure he would have listened. He’s not sure he would have taken it so well if Merlin’s life wasn’t already on the line, if they weren’t already so tangled in each other, in this.
Merlin smiles, nods, looks down at the ground.
They’re quiet for a while until eventually Arthur sighs and stands, holds out a hand for Merlin.
“What are we doing?” Merlin asks.
“We’re going to find what you felt in the caves,” Arthur says.
**
The town is quiet as Arthur and Merlin slip through it, heading to the entrance to the vaults that run beneath the castle. They stick to the alleys and the dark corners before finally arriving at the entrance undetected.
Once they’re within the vault, Arthur hands Merlin a torch and Merlin lights it for him with a word.
It’s a handy trick, Arthur must admit.
“This way,” Merlin says, and Arthur follows.
They walk for a while, turning left and right, and Arthur memorizes their route in his head, maps it so that they’ll be able to find their way back, so that he’ll be able to find the location again if he needs to. The castle seems to sigh above them, heavy and sleeping.
“Sometimes when I’m down here it’s almost as though I can feel Camelot breathing,” Arthur says. “As though the castle is alive.”
“It’s not the castle,” Merlin says, absently.
“What?” Arthur asks.
“Never mind,” Merlin says. “We’re close. I can feel it.”
They round a corner and Merlin stops short, says, “There.”
“What?” Arthur asks. He peers ahead and doesn’t see anything. Arthur slips past Merlin, the torch thrust out in front of him. He moves forward and then he sees it, attached to the ceiling of the passageway, a dark orb that appears to grow directly out of the stone above his head.
“What is it?” Arthur asks.
“Be careful,” Merlin warns, but Arthur ignores him and takes a step closer so that he‘s standing directly beneath the sphere. There are markings on the surface and Arthur raises his torch to get a better look.
“Look here,” Arthur says. He reaches out to touch the markings. Two arrowheads that intersect, a circle at their center. “This must be the source.”
“Don’t touch it,” Merlin says.
Arthur ignores Merlin and continues to run his fingers across the sphere. He can feel a small lip where the stone meets the orb and realizes it isn’t a full sphere at all, but a dome with a flat base, fixed to bedrock of the tunnel.
“Arthur,” Merlin says again.
Arthur can just barely get his fingers beneath the edge. He pulls, but the dome doesn’t budge. Its surface is warm to the touch, much warmer than the surrounding stone.
Merlin’s moved forward now to stand beside Arthur, and he peers up at the dome as well.
“It’s warm,” Arthur notes, and Merlin reaches up to press his fingers to test the temperature.
The entire room lights up as soon as Merlin’s fingers brush the surface, the light flashes like lightening and Merlin shouts as they’re both pushed back, thrown against the wall of the tunnel. Arthur looks up, squints in the light. He sees something move and he grabs at Merlin, shouts. The vision is pale and shimmering in the air of the room, but definitely there. A woman, laughing at them.
He’s seen her before.
“I know her,” Arthur says.
“Nimueh,” Merlin breathes. Arthur doesn’t recognize the name, but he’s sure he’s seen the woman before.
The vision fades, the passage goes dark once more.
Arthur stands, helps Merlin to his feet.
“This is it,” Arthur says, excited. He grips Merlin, shakes him a little. “Here is the proof of your innocence.”
“You don’t have to say it that way,” Merlin says. “I’m not really innocent at all, am I?”
“Of course you are,” Arthur says, dismisses Merlin. Arthur’s preoccupied, examining the dome once more. There appears to be water dripping down it now and as Arthur watches, the liquid pools at the dome’s lowest point, then drips, one drip, then another and another onto the floor of the passage. The drops of liquid are black on the brown of the stone.
“We should ask Gaius,” Merlin says.
Arthur nods and begins to lead them back the way they came.
**
Once he’s returned Merlin safely to the forest, Arthur heads straight to the physician’s chambers. Gaius is asleep, which Arthur expects, but he rouses quickly when Arthur bursts into his room.
“Arthur,” Gaius gasps. “What’s happened? Have they caught Merlin?”
“No,” Arthur says. “Merlin is safe. We’ve found the source of the magic.”
“Where?” Gaius asks, immediately awake and alert.
Arthur describes the dome to Gaius, describes the markings upon it, the dripping pool beneath it, and the force of it when Merlin touched it.
Gaius takes all of this in and then, ignoring the task at hand for a moment, asks, “How long have you known? About Merlin?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Arthur says.
Gaius watches Arthur, reading him, gauging him. Arthur shifts under Gaius’s gaze, self conscious. They don’t have time for this. He’s about to open his mouth to say as much, but Gaius speaks first.
“You’re growing into a great man, Arthur,” Gaius concludes.
Arthur wants to protest. He thinks that if it were really true Arthur wouldn’t have wondered if turning Merlin in might be the right thing to do. Merlin and Gaius wouldn’t have had to keep this from him.
“Thank you,” Arthur says, finally, knows it’s what is expected. “So what is it?”
“What you’ve described isn’t something I’ve encountered before,” Gaius admits. “And the woman. Merlin recognized her as Nimueh?”
“That was the name that he said,” Arthur confirms. He’s bothered that Merlin and Gaius seem to understand the circumstances far better than Arthur does. “I’ve seen her before.”
“Yes,” Gaius agrees. “I believe that you have.” He’s opening a book, flipping through it and shaking his head with each page that passes. He mumbles to himself, turns another page.
Arthur clears his throat and Gaius looks up, raises an eyebrow. Arthur sighs, gives in and sits down at the table beside Gaius, opens another volume and joins in the search.
**
It’s the slowest most boring day of Arthur’s life. Arthur spends hours hunched in the hard chair beside Gaius. His eyes glaze over as he peruses page after page of strange creatures and objects of magic. He leaves periodically to attend to his duties, finds them to be a relief, but he spends every spare moment of the day with Gaius, trying to identify the strange dome beneath the castle.
By early evening Arthur is having a hard time concentrating, finds that he‘s been staring at the same page for half an hour. He sighs, pushes his hair back from his forehead, leans back in his chair.
“Nothing yet?” he asks Gaius.
Gaius grunts and shakes his head and turns a page.
Arthur picks up another book, reads the title, sets it back down. He picks up another. Magical Beasts of the Realm. It‘s one of the books he remembers seeing in Merlin‘s chambers during Merlin‘s week off. The dome isn‘t a beast as far as Arthur can tell and he sets the book aside.
“You know,” Arthur says, just because he can‘t handle the quiet any longer. “The possession of many of these texts could be seen as treason.”
“They are historical,” Gaius says, his voice calm, not rising to Arthur‘s prodding. He doesn’t even look up. “Research and anthologies. There is no book of spells here.”
Gaius is lying. Merlin is learning from somewhere and Arthur isn’t stupid. He knows Gaius must be helping him. Arthur knows little of Gaius’s past, but he does know that Gaius has been a loyal servant to his father for many years, long before magic was outlawed in the kingdom. Not for the first time, Arthur wonders what services Gaius performed for the king in the past.
“There are books in the vaults,” Arthur says. “Maybe they contain the information that we need.”
Gaius raises an eyebrow. “Those books are in the vaults for a reason,” he points out, voice careful now.
“Would this go faster if I were to leave?” Arthur asks finally. He has no doubt that Gaius is in possession of books like those in the vaults, books of spells, books of magic. If Gaius has information that he’s afraid to share with Arthur, information that would help them understand the dome and the enchantment, Arthur will gladly leave so that Gaius can peruse undisturbed and without witness by the son of his king.
“It would go faster if you helped, Sire,” Gaius returns, unruffled.
Arthur sighs again and goes back to the book open in front of him.
It‘s nearing midnight when Arthur turns a page and once again comes face to face with the dome hidden beneath the castle.
“Here it is!” Arthur says. He stands and sets his book atop the one that Gaius has open, points to the illustration. “This is it, but only half of it.”
Gaius peers down at the drawing, seems to take an age to look it over.
“How do we destroy it?” Arthur pushes. He leans close over Gaius’s shoulder. He’s impatient now, ready for all of it to be over. He remembers Merlin, sitting by a fire in the forest, waiting alone while Arthur and Gaius conduct their research. Arthur amends the previous thought. He isn’t ready for all of it to be over, just most of it.
“The Orb of Undun,” Gaius reads. He pauses, his finger marking the first line as though he might lose his place. “I’ve heard of the orb but have never set sight on one myself.”
“How do I destroy it?” Arthur asks again.
“The orb contains powerful magic. When the two halves are separated a field is created between them and the master of the device may lay a curse on those who reside within. The orb cannot be destroyed by magic or by force when the halves are separate. Only the master or the accursed may reassemble the orb and only then may it be destroyed.”
“The other half is somewhere within the castle,” Arthur concludes.
“It would seem so,” Gaius agrees, turning to regard Arthur.
“Wonderful,” Arthur says. He grips Gaius’s shoulders for a moment in thanks and then grabs his sword and takes his leave of the physician’s chambers.
**
He goes straight to the forest. When he comes upon Merlin‘s camp he finds Merlin‘s fire going, but no sign of Merlin.
“Merlin,” he says. Merlin had better just be practicing caution, had better just be out collecting more firewood. The alternative - the alternative is that he’s been caught by Arthur’s men, or worse, by someone else. Arthur pulls his sword.
“Merlin,” Arthur says again, louder. He hears the edge in his own voice and he clears his throat, tells himself not to panic.
“I’m here,” Merlin says, appearing from behind patch of thick trees. “I heard you coming, wasn’t sure.”
They stand together, still for a moment, regarding each other. It’s Merlin, finally, who shrugs, rubs his hands together and moves closer to his fire. Arthur returns his sword to its sheath and follows.
“I’ve spent the day with Gaius,” Arthur says. “We’ve learned how to destroy the orb.”
“What is it?” Merlin asks. He adds a few more sticks to the fire.
“An Orb of Undun,” Arthur says.
“Oh,” Merlin says, nods knowingly.
Arthur squints. “You know of it?”
“Never heard of it,” Merlin says. He grins at Arthur, seems pleased with his little joke.
Arthur gives Merlin a look, and then tells Merlin all that he knows, about the two halves, about the field of power, about the manner in which it must be destroyed.
Merlin takes this in, nods, thoughtful.
“I just need to find the second half,” Arthur concludes.
“That should be easy,“ Merlin says.
“What do you mean?“
“If the orb creates a field between the two pieces, the second half must be somewhere that would encompass the entire castle,” Merlin guesses.
Arthur thinks on this for a moment and then slaps his knee. “The roof. Of course.”
It’s the only other place they haven’t searched. But where on the roof?
“It would be located at the highest point,” Arthur says.
“The turrets at the gate?” Merlin suggests.
Arthur thinks for a moment. The turrets are certainly the highest point, Merlin’s right about that. Arthur shakes his head. “My men are there often. The dome would have been seen. It would have to be somewhere that no one goes.”
There are many turrets and towers, many places to hide something so small. The turrets at the gate are too busy, but the east tower, with its steep conical roof, is nearly as high. As soon as Arthur thinks it, he knows he must be right.
“The roof of the east tower,” Arthur says, his voice sure.
“The east tower is tall,” Merlin says.
“It’s the tallest,” Arthur says. “After the turrets.”
“Taller than the west tower?”
Arthur sees where Merlin is going with this. And he’s right. The east and west towers are the same height. But the east tower seems higher. The east tower seems right.
“It’s on the east tower,” Arthur says, his voice firm.
“All right,” Merlin says. He rubs his hands together. “The east tower.”
Merlin looks like he’s gearing up for an adventure and Arthur raises his eyebrows, regards him. “What’s that? What are you doing?”
Merlin falters, then smiles and says, “I’m going with you.”
Arthur shakes his head.
“There’s no way I can get you through the castle undetected. You’re a fugitive now, Merlin. You won’t have two days if you’re caught. You’ll have two hours before you’re executed.”
Merlin shrugs and Arthur isn’t sure if it’s because he thinks Arthur will be able to absolve him or if Merlin knows that he can easily escape.
“I’ll investigate the roof at first light,” Arthur decides. “You will stay here.”
Arthur stays by Merlin’s fire that evening. They lie beside each other, stare up at the stars over Camelot. Eventually Arthur turns toward Merlin, leans in to kiss him. Arthur is tired, too tired for more than this, but for now it’s enough that Merlin easily kisses him back. It’s good enough to feel how well their mouths fit together, to know that they haven‘t moved past this over the course of the day. It comforts Arthur, to know this, to return to this with Merlin, but it troubles him too. What if what is happening between them is lasting? What if it doesn’t fade in a few days, in a few weeks? Arthur kisses Merlin and thinks of what his father would say if he knew.
“A love spell,” Uther would gasp, his face a mask of horror and fear.
All roads suddenly seem to lead to Merlin’s execution.
**
Arthur looks out one of the uppermost windows in the east tower. It’s the highest point in the castle. After the turrets, anyway. And possibly the west tower. Arthur pushes the pane open and sits on the windowsill. He looks down into the inner ward of the castle, at his men milling about below. It’s a long way down.
Arthur sucks in a large breath, fills his cheeks with it, then lets it out in a heavy sigh. Might as well get it over with. He leans out and eyes the ledge above the window. It isn’t far. It will be easy to hoist himself up to it.
Arthur climbs up onto the sill, then turns, standing. He reaches up to grab hold of the ledge. It‘s as easy as it looks to hoist himself up. He‘s there in a matter of moments. The sloped roof of the tower is steep and Arthur pulls himself up onto the ledge, leans in against the roof, then scans the surface. There is nothing there and he curses and begins to slowly make his way around the tower.
Finally on the north side he spots it. The other half of the orb. It’s fixed flat to the roof several feet further up than Arthur can reach with his feet planted firmly on the ledge. He runs his hands along the plane of the roof, finally finds an edge where his boot may catch. He lifts his leg and tests it. It holds.
Arthur uses the lip to push himself up until finally his hands are gripping the dome. He pulls but it doesn’t budge.
“Come on,” Arthur grunts.
It’s beginning to occur to Arthur how stupid it was to come up here while cursed with some sort of clumsiness spell. On the other hand, if he’s holding the dome he should be out of the range of the curse. But then it’s unclear to Arthur how these things work, it’s unclear if the field can extend past the two halves of the orb, and if so, how far?
Just then the orb seems to hear his doubts, seems to realize the advantage that it has with him and it releases its hold on the roof, surprising Arthur so that he loses his balance and slides down the slope. He braces himself, prays that his feet catch on the ledge. They do, but he hits fast, jarring him so that he loses his balance, starts to fall back. He flails the arm not holding the dome, tries to stabilize himself, but it’s too late. He’s going to fall back, he’s going to plummet to his death. He‘ll be found by a villager, battered and broken at the base of the castle.
Arthur closes his eyes and braces himself for the fall, for the rush of air and unforgiving impact of landing. Then he feels it. A hand at his back, steadying him, pushing him back toward the roof, back onto the ledge. Arthur holds tight to the dome even as he grasps at the roof, presses his face to it. He could kiss its surface now that they’ve been reunited. He stands there, tries to calm down, to slow his heart and take a few deep breaths.
When he feels his heart start to slow just a little, Arthur moves. He slips the orb into the bag he has tied to his belt and then he inches slowly back around toward the open window.
Safely back within the tower, he turns to look out the window. He looks down at the fields and the forest that surrounds Camelot. His heart swells a little, the same way it always does when he pauses to take it all in. One day Arthur may be king of all of this.
He sees movement on the edge of the forest and he pauses, squints, tries to get a better look. He sees a small figure there, standing for just a moment before turning and disappearing into the trees. It’s Merlin, he’s sure. Watching him, saving his life.
Arthur wonders how many times this has happened before with them. How many times and Arthur just didn’t realize, wasn’t aware of what was happening? How many times would Arthur have been hurt, worse, killed, had he not had Merlin at his side?
Continue with Part 2: The Fall