Fic :: Merlin :: The Stumble and the Fall :: Part 2: The Fall

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Arthur enters his father’s chambers just as Uther is sitting down to breakfast. Morgana sits at his side. She smiles when she sees him, and Arthur, still feeling a slight thrill from his adventure on the roof, the anticipation of what comes next, smiles back.

“Good morning, Arthur,” his father says. “Do you care to dine with us?”

His father’s voice is cordial, he’s already started to forgive Arthur for the blunder of Merlin’s escape. Arthur wonders who he has to thank for that. He guesses that it must be Morgana. He turns toward her and she looks down at her plate, but he notices her slight nod. He’ll have to thank her when this is over.

“Good morning, father,” Arthur returns. He stands at the opposite end of the table, formal. This is a business visit. “I’ve had word with a man in the village. He saw someone entering the vaults beneath the castle yesterday afternoon.”

“Merlin,” his father guesses. He’s holding tight to his spoon. Arthur watches the tension in his father’s knuckles.

“A woman,” Arthur counters. “The man described her as secretive, dressed in a dark cape, but he caught a glimpse of red hair.”

Uther thinks on this for a long moment. Arthur glances once again at Morgana. She shrugs and together they wait for Uther’s response. Finally, his father comes to a decision. He nods and then regards Arthur.

“Gather your men and investigate. We can’t risk intruders roaming the vaults or the passages.”

Arthur bows and exits his father’s chambers. Morgana catches him in the hallway, her hand at his arm to stop him.

“It isn’t Merlin?” she asks.

“Of course it isn’t Merlin,” Arthur scoffs. “Merlin’s about as far from a warlock as one can get.”

Morgana looks down at the floor of the passage for a moment, then back up to Arthur. She smiles. “Good.”

**

Arthur gathers several of his men and prepares his return to the tunnels beneath the castle. He doesn‘t think that he will need the men, not now that he has the second half of the orb. Based on the information in Gaius‘s text, Arthur will be able to reassemble the two pieces of the orb, and being that he is the one cursed, destroy it. Still, Arthur wants the men there. He chooses them carefully, the same men that were in the marketplace the day that Merlin found himself accused. Arthur needs witnesses.

He leads them through the vaults, into the passages beyond. He remembers the way easily, the turns, and when he comes to the tunnel he holds up a hand for his men to stop.

Things have changed since the last time Arthur was here. He remembers the bright light that threw them back against the wall of the passage, remembers the water that dripped from the orb afterward, as though the force of the magic had caused a vast temperature change, had resulted in condensation on the surface of the dome.

It wasn‘t condensation. A large black puddle has collected on the ground beneath the dome. As Arthur’s men gather around it Arthur notices a single bubble at its center. It pops and another bubble begins to form.

“Wait,” Arthur says. The puddle bubbles again and then it begins in earnest so that it looks to be boiling.

“Stand back,” Arthur orders.

His men obey and just in time. As they watch, a dozen creatures materialize from the depths of the pool, taking their ghastly shape from the liquid. The creatures have faces like miniature horses, but the flopping ears of a dog and the body of a rabbit. And they can fly. None of this is important though. What is important is their teeth, sharp and curved.

Gaius didn’t mention anything about this.

They plunge into a battle, his men shouting as they swing at the creatures. Arthur pursues one of the, stumbles, then drops his sword. Another comes at him from behind. His shoulder is bitten and he cries out.

His men are faring better than Arthur. Three of the creatures are lying on the floor of the passage. Arthur manages to hit one with his sword and he pierces it, but it grabs the end and won’t let go. Arthur grips the hilt hard as the creature drags him around the tunnel before finally dying on his blade. It takes Arthur several minutes of kicking to remove the corpse from his sword.

Arthur makes his way to the dome still attached to the ceiling of the passage. He removes its partner from his bag. As soon as it is exposed completely, its companion falls free of the ceiling, crashes to the ground. Arthur turns it over, presses the half from the roof to its twin and watches in amazement as the two halves merge to create a perfect black sphere. The sphere glows from within now, as though something is alive inside of it. Arthur stares, ignores the men still fighting around him.

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, different than the fight of his men and the creatures. He looks up to see Merlin watching him.

Arthur turns quickly back to the sphere. He doesn’t want to risk one of his men catching him staring off, turning to see what’s caught his attention. They can’t know of Merlin’s presence. Arthur shakes his head.

Get back, you idiot.

Merlin is going to ruin everything. If someone sees him here no one will be convinced that he had nothing to do with the orb. Arthur lifts his sword. He must end this now or risk one of his men noticing Merlin first.

Arthur brings his sword down hard onto the orb. The tip glances off the surface of the sphere, throwing Arthur forward. His sword hits rock, sending sparks flying and stopping Arthur from falling to the ground. Arthur curses, steadies himself. He stabilizes the sphere between his feet and tries again. The force pushes the sphere, and Arthur nearly falls once more as he watches it roll away from him.

Leon trips on the orb, flails back and hits Serrick with a fist. Serrick falls to the ground and is nearly mauled by one of the creatures but Arthur gets there first, knocks the creature away and helps Serrick to his feet.

Once Serrick is mobile again, Arthur chases after the orb, finally stops it against the wall of the tunnel with his foot. He presses his foot hard against it, pushing it against the unyielding rock. He lifts his sword. He tries to aim, but has difficulty stabilizing his sword, as though a force is pushing his blade away from the orb. Arthur concentrates, holds steady, fights it.

Finally he feels sure that his aim is good, feels his sword steady and still in his hands, and he bears down. It hits the surface with a loud metallic sound. Nothing happens and Arthur grunts and pushes down with as much weight as he can without moving his foot. Finally he hears a hiss and then feels his sword puncture the surface, sink down into the orb. The room is filled by that same flash of light and everyone shouts and stumbles back, covers their eyes.

When the light starts to fade, Arthur removes his hand from his face. The woman is back, growling at them and then she screams, her shriek piercing the room so that they all cower back, covering their faces once more, their ears.

When the light finally fades and the smoke clears, Arthur and his men are alone. The orb, the creatures and Merlin have all vanished.

**

“Sir Leon tells me that he saw a vision during your battle,” his father says when Arthur brings him the news. Leon must have rushed to speak with the king and Arthur clenches his jaw until he remembers that day in the forest, remembers Sir Leon’s face when he realized Merlin had escaped. Leon’s on his side.

“Yes,” Arthur agrees.

“Of a woman screaming,” his father urges.

“She fit the description of the woman seen entering the vaults,” Arthur confirms. Arthur describes the orb to his father, the markings on its surface. His father frowns at the description of the intersecting arrowheads, then urges Arthur to continue. Arthur describes the creature and the battle, and finally the vision of the woman.

Uther takes it all in, nods finally and says. “I’m glad that Merlin is innocent of this,” his father admits. “It’s only too bad that in this test of character he’s failed and run. You shall have a new manservant at once.”

“I think Merlin might turn up,” Arthur says.

The king shrugs, doesn’t seem to care what happens to Merlin one way or the other now that there isn’t magic involved.

“If he does return,” his father says. “I will leave his punishment to you.”

“Thank you, father,” Arthur concedes, bows and leaves.

**

Arthur spends the afternoon thinking. About Merlin. Everything has been about Merlin these past weeks.

He thinks about magic and he thinks about stolen kisses and fevered touches. He thinks of Merlin, careless, behind bars, with a noose around his neck. He thinks about how long Merlin’s hidden himself from Arthur and how easily that one small slip brought down his hard work. If Arthur had been a different man, Merlin would be dead now. Executed for trying to save his prince.

He thinks of Merlin helping him on the roof that morning, of Merlin watching the battle in the tunnels. He thinks of Merlin serving him breakfast and gathering his laundry and helping him with his armour. He thinks of the two of them in Arthur’s bed, bodies moving against each other, voices hushed.

All roads lead to Merlin’s execution.

He’s in the forest as soon as night falls, as soon as he’s fulfilled his day’s duties. Merlin, for once, isn’t hiding, is waiting patiently for Arthur to turn up. He grins when Arthur approaches and Arthur scowls, points a finger at Merlin’s chest.

“You,” he says, moving forward until his finger is pressed against Merlin. “You have no instinct for self preservation. You’re wreckless, insubordinate, stupid - “

He pauses. Merlin is still smiling up at him, seemingly just happy that Arthur is here, happy that the enchantment has been broken, happy that they’re alive and together. Arthur feels the anger in his chest drain. He looks away, sighs, and then turns back to Merlin. His pointing finger falls and when he lifts the hand again it’s to set it on Merlin’s shoulder instead.

“Thank you for saving my life this morning,” Arthur concedes.

Merlin’s mouth falls open so that he looks like a smiling and surprised lunatic.

“What was that?” Merlin asks. A smiling, surprised, deaf lunatic.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I said thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin says, still grinning. He moves away from Arthur and sits down on the log, then looks up and pats the space beside him.

Arthur accepts the invitation and sits.

“You could have been seen in the tunnels,” Arthur says. “And then what would I have said?”

Merlin shrugs, smiles again, but it‘s a smaller smile this time, not the happy grin of Arthur‘s arrival. “Yes, father. I’ve been hiding my fugitive manservant in the forest?”

Arthur laughs. “He’d execute you just to teach me a lesson.”

“Probably,” Merlin agrees.

His father is a great man, a great king. Arthur loves him, looks up to him, would follow him anywhere. But there are some things that Arthur just sees differently. Those things, those differences, have changed so much this last week that Arthur’s head spins.

Arthur shakes his head, sighs.

“You know that you will only be safe if you leave Camelot,” Arthur says when he cannot hold the words back any longer.

“I know,” Merlin says. Arthur turns to him, a hand on Merlin‘s knee.

“You could leave,” Arthur suggests. “You could join with the druids. They would help you.”

“Yeah,” Merlin agrees again.

“If we leave in the morning you could find their camp by nightfall,” Arthur continues, brain working now, making plans.

Merlin frowns.

“I’ll go with you,” Arthur offers. “Help you find them. We can make up some excuse for my absence.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

“I have a job here.

“I release you from it,” Arthur counters. “You can search out Lancelot. You can aid him.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I have to stay here. I belong here.”

“You - “ Arthur starts, but Merlin isn’t finished.

“I‘m needed here,” Merlin cuts in.

Arthur almost retorts, almost spits his next thought. Here doesn’t want you. Here you’ll be put to death for what you are, for what we are together. He holds his tongue.

It isn’t true anyway. Here wants him. Arthur wants him. Arthur sighs and Merlin knocks against him. Arthur isn’t sure what the gesture is supposed to mean. Consoling? Annoying? Strangely enough, Arthur doesn’t feel all that annoyed and he leans in, presses his mouth to Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin smells of earth and grass and fire. He must have taken a swim sometime that evening. Arthur can smell the lake on his skin.

“You’re a stubborn fool,” Arthur says after a moment.

Merlin laughs. “I’m the stubborn one here?”

Arthur sits up, away from Merlin. He clears his throat and says, “It will look suspicious if you show up at the castle again right away.”

Merlin sighs. “This is punishment, isn’t it? I try to help you and you force me to sleep on the ground with squirrels and worms.”

“Just a few more days,” Arthur assures him. “You’ll survive.” Neither of them notes that if Merlin is spending more nights in the forest, the chances are high that Arthur will choose to sleep with squirrels and worms as well.

“I woke up this morning with beetles on my face,” Merlin says. “I have no blankets, you haven’t once brought me food. I could starve out here and -”

“It’s just a few days,“ Arthur says again. “Stop talking,”

When Merlin doesn’t, Arthur kisses him. It works.

**

Each evening it’s the same. They couple frantically, hands and mouths needy, desperate for each other. They thrust against each other, slide together, suck and bite and clutch. It’s fevered and urgent, as though they both realize it can only last this short time. They don’t voice their thoughts. They don’t talk about it.

“It seems we’ve been possessed by rabbits,” Arthur jokes instead when they lay together afterward, breath heavy, skin damp.

“Maybe it’s another curse,” Merlin says. After a moment he adds, “Let’s not try to break it.”

“Maybe it isn’t a curse at all,” Arthur says and reaches for Merlin again.

The following night things move slower, as though through some unspoken agreement. Arthur kisses his way across Merlin’s skin, takes his time with every inch and feels Merlin’s fingers on him, doing the same. Their kisses are slow, lazy, until Arthur feels like he’s drunk on Merlin, drowning in him.

Merlin presses a small jar into Arthur’s hand.

“What is this?” Arthur asks. He doesn’t want to remove his hands from Merlin, but eventually he does, takes the jar, opens it and examines the contents.

“Gaius gave it to me,” Merlin says.

“Is it a serum?” Arthur asks, sniffing. The contents are colorless by the light of the fire, odorless. “Do I drink it?”

Merlin smiles against Arthur’s neck. He takes the jar back from Arthur’s hand.

“Here,” Merlin says. “Let me show you.”

It isn’t a potion or a medication. Arthur follows Merlin’s lead, lets Merlin show him what to do, and then takes over the task, sliding the contents of the jar into Merlin on his fingers. Merlin is quiet beneath him, breath a little ragged, eyes closed. Arthur wonders how Merlin knew to ask for this, when Merlin met with Gaius, what Merlin must have said. It doesn’t matter, what matters is the way that he feels when he’s finally surrounded by Merlin, hot and tight and his. The way Merlin grips him, pulls him closer, and kisses him when Arthur starts to move.

The week passes and they both start to feel it. Arthur has regained his coordination and is unlikely to be injured by tripping over his own two feet, unlikely to die a humiliatingly clumsy death right in front of Merlin. Arthur’s father does not mention the sorceress Nimueh again. He does not direct Arthur to search for her. He seems content for the time being to simply forget the affair entirely. He doesn’t ask about Merlin, but he has not tried to replace him either.

Enough time has passed, the atmosphere has settled, and for the moment, magic is no longer on the tip of Camelot‘s tongue.

Arthur kisses Merlin in the dark recesses of Camelot’s forest and finally says the words they’ve both been waiting for.

“Tomorrow I’m sending Leon into the forest,” Arthur says. “He will be scouting on the west side of the lake. Let him find you and bring you in.”

**

One week after Arthur destroyed the Orb of Undun, Arthur wakes to find Merlin setting his breakfast as though none of it ever happened.

“You’re back,” Arthur says. It’s only been a few hours since they left each other. It feels much longer.

“Sir Leon happened upon me in the woods this morning,” Merlin says conversationally. “I ran, but I tripped over a root and he caught me easily. He told me that you’ve identified the real sorcerer. He laughed that anyone ever thought that it could have been me.”

It has gone exactly as they’d planned it while lying alone together in the forest. Arthur looks down at himself, at his bare chest and the sheets bunched at his waist.

They haven’t discussed what would happen once Merlin returns. They’ve carefully avoided the subject, choosing to live in the moment instead. Arthur knows why they didn’t speak of it. Arthur knows the conclusion they would have reached if it had been a conversation. What’s happening between them must stop. It’s too dangerous, it’s too messy, and it will never end well. Arthur looks at Merlin now and doesn’t care for any of those reasons, thinks maybe it’s still worth a shot. He opens his mouth, but finds he doesn’t know how to tell Merlin so, doesn’t have the words.

“I need to train with my men,” Arthur says instead. It‘s true, yet sounds like a ridiculous lie, abrupt and inappropriate.

“Right,” Merlin nods. He begins collecting clothes from Arthur’s floor.

Arthur sits forward. “What are you doing?”

“Your laundry,” Merlin says. “It’s been a week. It’s a disaster in here.”

“Oh,” Arthur says. He looks toward the end of the bed, at the shirt that Merlin has laid out for him. “Good.”

**

Arthur watches Merlin as he carries a pile of swords. He’s awkward, fumbling, and the weapons threaten to fall from his grasp. He watches Merlin trip over the uneven ground, drop half of his load. He watches the way Merlin gets flustered when Arthur’s men laugh.

Arthur sees no trace of the magic that Merlin showed him in the forest, no sign that Merlin possesses any sort of power at all.

That night Arthur sleeps alone, thinks of Merlin in his bed at the other end of the castle. He wonders if Merlin will come to him, remembers the night that they slept here together, awkwardly avoiding each other’s touch. He closes his eyes and imagines Merlin wrapped around him now as he falls asleep.

Merlin is handling everything much better than Arthur, is clearly used to hiding parts of himself from everyone. Arthur finds himself staring at Merlin, looking for signs, hints that their time together hasn’t been so easily forgotten. Sometimes he thinks he catches Merlin smile when nothing is particularly funny. He hopes it’s a memory that involves him.

He watches, hoping to catch Merlin stealing a glance, watching him the way that Arthur has been so carefully watching Merlin these past few days. Arthur stands back and waits, observes, spies.

He stands beside a hedge in the courtyard and spends an hour watching Merlin lug buckets of water from the well. Merlin struggles with it, could easily ease his own load, but the thought doesn’t seem to cross his mind. When Merlin glances up and catches Arthur watching, Arthur turns and rushes away.

Arthur watches Merlin scrub the floor of his room, watches the way his shoulders move, remembers pressing his lips to the pale skin between them.

“Merlin,” Arthur says from his perch at the table.

Merlin looks up, eyebrows raised. They stare at each other for a moment, but Merlin’s face gives nothing away, no indication that he even remembers what’s passed between them.

Arthur shakes his head. “You missed a spot,” he says, points it out.

Later Merlin bends and pokes at Arthur’s hearth, stokes the flames. Arthur thinks of the tiny fire in the forest, of the two of them crouched beside it. Merlin’s hands hold him as they rock against each other.

When they walk together through the castle Arthur eyes every dark corner, every empty doorway. He wants to push Merlin within, remove his clothes, make him shake with it, make him remember.

**

It should be obvious. Merlin was so obvious when he was worried for Arthur’s life, when he was cataloging the strange happenings that surrounded Arthur within the castle. If Merlin is thinking of him now, Arthur feels sure he should be able to tell. He should be able to feel it.

It infuriates him, makes him feel like everything that has come before this was a lie. It‘s irrational, but it makes him wonder if Merlin used Arthur‘s feelings to gain Arthur‘s trust, to ensure that Merlin would be welcomed back into Camelot. As soon as he thinks it, he banishes the thought. It‘s ridiculous. It‘s not Merlin at all. Arthur remembers the way Merlin touched him, the feel of Merlin‘s kisses, of Merlin‘s eyes locked to his. Merlin was in this just as thick as Arthur. Arthur is sure of it.

Finally, several days after Merlin returns to the castle, Arthur snaps, can no longer take Merlin’s indifference, his inattention. They need to have a conversation. They need to talk about what’s happened between them and what’s happening now. Arthur needs to know.

He waits for Merlin in the passage below the physician’s tower. Merlin won’t be expecting him, Arthur knows. He won’t be looking for him. Merlin hardly cares anymore what becomes of Arthur when they aren’t together.

It’s nearly evening by the time Merlin turns the corner into the passage. Arthur waits as Merlin approaches, calculates, plans.

Merlin seems oblivious to his surroundings, as far from a dangerous warlock as one can get. When Arthur springs out, grabs Merlin and pulls him into the empty room he’s been lurking in, Merlin tries to shout and Arthur has to slap a hand over Merlin’s mouth to quiet him.

Merlin’s eyes go wide. He begins to struggle, tries to pull Arthur’s hand from his mouth.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Arthur says, voice low, and Merlin’s eyes flash yellow. He speaks muffled words against Arthur’s palm and the door to the room slams shut behind them.

“What - “ Arthur starts, jumps, but Merlin is wasting no time now.

In Arthur’s surprise he’s released his hold on Merlin and Merlin grabs at him, fingers pressing hard into his arms as he pulls Arthur in. Their mouths rush together, teeth knocking painfully before finding each other again in a desperate kiss. Arthur reaches for Merlin once more, his intentions changed.

Merlin’s hands are everywhere, on his arms one moment, then pushing up beneath Arthur’s shirt, pressing to the bare skin of Arthur’s stomach the next. His fingers are cold on Arthur’s skin and Arthur gasps.

Merlin surges forward, abandoning Arthur’s chest to hold Arthur’s face as Merlin presses hard kisses to Arthur’s mouth. Arthur kisses him back with equal passion, has to remind himself to breathe. He pulls away, just far enough to gasp, to suck air into his lungs. Just far enough to remember who they are, where they are, and what Arthur wants. Merlin kisses the corner of Arthur’s lips, presses his mouth wet to Arthur’s jaw.

Arthur wants Merlin, wants what they had in the forest, and for the first time in days is positive that Merlin is with him. Merlin is catching his breath now too. His fingers are twisted into Arthur’s clothes and he presses his forehead to Arthur’s cheek, holds Arthur to him, the urgency of the kiss subsiding for a moment.

“You’ve been spying on me,” Merlin says. Arthur can feel the air of the words tickle his neck.

Arthur laughs. It sounds nervous and unsure. “You’ve noticed.”

“You’re bad at it,” Merlin points out.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” Arthur admits. “Waiting for some sign that it even mattered at all to you, that you want it to continue.”

“It matters,” Merlin says. “Of course it - I was waiting for you. I thought you wanted it to end.”

And now, now with Merlin here with him, Arthur shakes his head, pushes Merlin’s head back so that his mouth can press to Merlin’s again. Merlin is aroused. Arthur can feel it in the press of their bodies, would be able to tell even if he couldn’t by the look in Merlin’s eye, by the clasp of his fingers and the slide of his mouth.

“Come back to my chambers,” Arthur says.

“How is this - “ Merlin starts and Arthur kisses Merlin again to stop the words. He knows what is coming. How is this going to work? How is this going to end? Arthur doesn’t know, doesn’t care. They’ll make it work. It won’t end.

They aren’t equals, not really, but it almost feels like they are now. Magic is a threat to the kingdom. Arthur understands that. But magic doesn’t inherently make someone evil, no more than Arthur’s power as Uther’s son makes him evil. Merlin isn’t a threat to him or to his father. Merlin will remain loyal as long as Arthur deserves that loyalty from him.

Instead of a threat, Arthur looks at Merlin and sees possibility. A chance to heal old wounds, to mend bridges that were burned long ago. He knows he should be wary, but this new knowledge somehow makes him feel safer in this. Makes him feel what he’s always felt, but had no rational basis for until now - they are stronger together.

They can keep this secret between them. They can hide it from the world the same way that Merlin has hidden his magic. Merlin is good at hiding, Arthur sees that now, though he wouldn’t have guessed it just two weeks ago.

They can do this. They can play their parts, live these double lives. Merlin will be safer with Arthur as his ally. Arthur will be safer with Merlin at his side. They are better together, happier, strong. Eventually they’ll put words to this, to this thing between them, and it will grow stronger still.

One day Arthur may be king. When that day comes, he’ll want Merlin still. He’ll need Merlin there.

“Come to my room,” Arthur says again.

“Yes,” Merlin agrees.

Arthur keeps his fingers on Merlin as they step out into the corridor. His hand is on Merlin’s arm, then his waist as he pushes Merlin toward his room. Arthur walks too close, steps on the back of Merlin’s shoe, stumbles forward against Merlin’s back. Merlin turns quick, grabs Arthur, steadies him.

“Don’t fall,” Merlin warns.

Arthur shrugs.

It’s a little too late for that.