Arcane Asylum 8/16
Aug. 22nd, 2010 12:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
new_kateTitle: Arcane Asylum
Fandom: Merlin BBC
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin and a bunch of less true pairings mentioned in the flashbacks.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings for this part: sexy tiems! :D
Summary: Modern AU. Originally written for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kinkme_merlin
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
devikun and ghost_guessed for betaing!
Word count: 9K for this part.
First part
Chapter index
Part 8: Boundary
Merlin slept till well past noon. Since the riot he'd perfected the art of sleeping for ten hours a day at least, and sometimes could manage twelve in a row. There wasn't much else to do, and anything he could use to break up his day had to be spaced out evenly and savoured for all it was worth. Ever since he all but stopped talking to the others and had memorised all the books he had interest in reading the most exciting activity he had left was eating. And he was never that into food.
He woke up slowly, and lazed on his bunk with his eyes closed, hoping to doze off again. Mordred wasn't in bed with him, which was unusual. Mordred always got up early and went outside around dawn time, probably to do something Druidic. But then he would come back and tuck himself against Merlin's side again, and stay there, warm and quiet, for a few hours more.
Merlin didn't mind. Sometimes the need for privacy would be immediate like a physical ache, and he would push everyone away and spend a day or night on the roof, often standing in a pouring raid he'd summon to match his mood, keeping himself warm with spells even as his skin chilled till it felt too tight for his body. But mostly he liked Mordred's silent company. Nobody else wanted to be near Mordred since he arrived here, not even the other druids, just like nobody really wanted to be near Merlin since the day of the riot. That suited them both perfectly. They didn't need anybody else.
Suddenly he remembered, and jerked fully awake against the sinking feeling of impending disaster.
When he'd gone to sleep, the top bunk was sagging under the weight of Arthur's heavy, muscled body. It had been easier to handle yesterday, with Mordred breathing softly by his side, but being alone in the room made him too conscious of Arthur being so close, suspended above him. If he made the top bunk disappear, Arthur would fall on top of him. He actually had to concentrate on not making that happen.
He'd spent a good part of the night staring upwards in the dark, imagining the outlines of Arthur's back on top of the mattress, trying to map out movements of his limbs every time the bed frame creaked. This whole thing wasn't working out the way he expected it to.
All he wanted was to keep everyone safe. It wasn't right to let a man be tortured just because he got stuck with Uther Pendragon for a father, that wasn't his fault. Merlin thought he'd keep Arthur with him, under his protection, for a few days. Just till everyone got used to his presence and the idea of making him suffer for their amusement lost its fresh appeal. And then – well, then something would happen, things would sort themselves out. Planning far ahead was never his forte.
He'd expected Arthur Pendragon to spend his time in the Facility being quiet, shaken up, keeping his head down. Easy to ignore. Knowing Uther, it was possible that his son had inherited some of his personality traits, and would take finding himself safe and protected as his cue to be obnoxious and resentful. It didn't matter. Merlin wasn't doing any of it to earn anybody's gratitude.
He hadn't expected Arthur to be anything like this.
The top bunk was now empty. Mordred sat on the floor by the wall, doing something highly involved to his toy knights. He threw Merlin a quick smile over his shoulder and turned back to his work.
"Where's Arthur?" Merlin asked.
"Underground," said Mordred's voice inside his head.
"What? Why?"
"He's looking for something."
Mostly he liked mind-speaking and there were days, sometimes weeks, when they communicated only by snippets of thought pushed inside each other's heads. But sometimes it just was unnecessarily creepy.
He touched at Mordred's mind, trying for more, and got an image of Arthur wandering around the basement, tracing the routes of the water pipes along the walls and uncertainly poking at the machinery.
"He'll get hurt," he thought at Mordred furiously.
"They wouldn't. He's yours."
"You don't like him, do you?" he asked quickly. Sometimes an element of surprise would get him a more direct answer. It worked, in a way: he got a sudden flood of thoughts and memories. Arthur's voice, serious and impressed, as he talked about Mordred's art projects, the sound of his amused laughter, Arthur's eyes, sharp and clever, the tilt of his head as he listened to what was said around him, carefully talking it all in; the long half-lidded look he'd sometimes give Merlin – trying to figure him out, perhaps. Arthur's face, chalk white and wrecked, locked in fierce concentration, as they saw him for the first time: half-naked, beaten, shaking, ready to fight again.
Mordred shut him out so fast that it felt like a sting to his mind.
"No. I don't like him," he thought at Merlin sulkily. "He doesn't belong here. But you have needs, I get that."
"It's not like that..."
Mordred turned around and looked at him reproachfully, and Merlin sighed and conceded the point. It was quite a bit like that, even though he wasn't going to act on it, ever. Arthur was a very handsome man, and everyone around here expected him to take advantage. Even Arthur himself. He could see that.
"I better go find him," he sighed.
Mordred's back was turned to him, narrow and hunched over, his shoulder blades sticking out sharply under the coarse orange uniforms. Merlin petted his hair on the way out of the cell, and Mordred leaned into it slightly, but ducked away almost immediately, looking annoyed. He must be already getting too old for cuddles.
Arthur was still in the basement. He had finished exploring and was now taking apart some metal box, wrestling the screws undone with his fingers and a broken plastic spoon.
He wasn't alone. There was about twenty others in the room, sat along the walls, watching Arthur work. They were talking among themselves, discussing him: the speed at which his bruises were healing, whether or not he was limping from being well used, what part of his body Merlin considered his best feature. Arthur was ignoring them easily, without even tensing up. He took a step backwards for more leverage against the panel he was wrangling open, and a sneakily thrown spell swept his legs from underneath him, creating a vicious momentum.
Arthur fell heavily and landed hard on his back, accompanied by guffawing laughter from all the spectators. It took him a good few seconds to get his breath back. He got up slowly, surrounded by mocking sniggering, red-faced and furious, clenching his fists.
"How clumsy of me," he said finally and bent toward the panel again.
Another spell swished across the room, aiming at the backs of his knees. Arthur grabbed onto a pipe, side-stepped the blow, almost managing to avoid being jostled, and stayed on his feet.
"I don't want to catch any of you doing this again," said Merlin from the doorway. Phil quickly tucked his hands between his knees and attempted to look innocent.
"Don't let him wander off if you don't want him hurt," said Tauren glumly. "Tempting people like that is irresponsible."
Arthur turned to Merlin at the sound of his voice and stood there, silent and expressionless, clearly not sure how to even talk to him in front of the others. Merlin didn't quite know how to act with all of them watching, either.
"What are you doing here, Arthur?" he said as neutrally as he could.
"I'm trying to fix the heating," Arthur answered eagerly, happy for an easy topic to discuss. "I think I've found the boiler! Now it's gotta be something simple, like flipping a switch. Or a loose wire. We'll get it going again in no time."
"We don't need the boiler to work," said Tauren. "Merlin, please. If you want to keep him, keep him in your room. I don't have a quarrel with him, but the more I look at him traipsing around, sticking his nose into our business..."
"Why do you have a problem with me fixing a boiler, anyway?" asked Arthur, whirling around to face Tauren. "What is it you have against central heating and hot water?"
"We don't need it. A warmth spell is the first one a child learns."
"So in winter you just sit in your own warmth and not shower? That's really gross."
"Nice, finely honed bigotry there from Pendragon the youngest, his father taught him well. But he needs to start learning to respect our culture if he's going to live among us. Merlin, you should be telling him this, not me."
"It's nothing to do with culture! It's a bloody boiler!"
"Arthur," said Merlin. "Leave it."
"Merlin, with your permission, I'd like to ask him a question," said Tauren.
"Be my guest," sighed Merlin. This was going to get tiresome very quickly. He didn't want to hurt Tauren. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He's had enough of that a long time ago.
"You don't need permission to talk to me," said Arthur. It was like his mouth was on inertia and wouldn't stop running off; he'd just keep digging himself in deeper till somebody knocked him unconscious and put them all out of this misery.
"You don't know what I need. You have no idea what any of us need or want. Do you even understand how much you're insulting us all? How dare you assume we need your help with this, or anything else? Why would you think there is something all of us couldn't achieve in a year that you'll be able to fix?"
"This is technology," said Arthur, unwavering. "It's the opposite of magic, isn't it? I have more affinity with it than any of you do. What, I'm not an idiot, this is something I can help with."
Tauren stared at him till Merlin was taut with tension, a spell ready and twitching on his lips. And then Tauren bent forward, dropped his head on his crossed arms where they rested on his knees and started laughing, bitterly, brokenly, almost sobbing.
"Oh, child," he said. "What a strange world you grew up in."
Arthur shrugged, pulled the last screw free and jiggled the panel open.
"Aha," he said triumphantly, flipping the switches around and pulling on the wires. "Right. Oh. What's this?"
"That's the motherboard," said Tauren. "Don't touch anything there, you've no idea what you're doing."
"Oh, and you do?"
"I've got a PhD in engineering," said Tauren. "I left the temple and my family when I was fourteen, to study technology and the ways it can be fused with magic. The practical applications would be limitless, the possibilities were..."
He sighed and fell silent, staring through the wall.
"I see," said Arthur after holding a polite pause. "Okay, I didn't know – I always thought once you start doing magic that's all you ever can do. That it changes you."
"The thesis that magic alters the psychological make-up of a person to the point where one is unsuited to most professional fields is a relatively new one," Tauren said. "I was arrested when it was still controversial. Not any more, it seems."
"How come you couldn't fix this thing, then? Does it need replacement parts? We can ask my father..."
"I didn't spend seventeen years studying so I could fix boilers in prison."
"You've not even tried? Look, no disrespect, I understand your point, this hasn't exactly been my whole life's aspiration, either. But I'm at least trying. I'm not going to give up because this work is beneath me. It still needs doing."
"He's an odd one, isn't he, Merlin?" Tauren said. "I think I see now why you're so smitten."
"Like a puppy," said Charlie from a corner and grinned at Merlin triumphantly. "There we go."
It was such an old memory. From a different lifetime, when things were so simple. Merlin still remembered his first day in here, resignation mingled with new hopes, and this promise for the future: that he'd fall in love among these walls.
He'd never been completely sure if he ever was in love with Edwin. He'd wanted to be, and at the time he believed he could be. But ever since he understood who Edwin really was, since he realised that all those spells Edwin had been teaching him were always intended to be used as weapons, that he himself was always meant to be used as Edwin's weapon, since he saw Edwin set the guards on fire and watch with a soft happy smile as they thrashed in agony, Merlin didn't have any shred of lingering affection left for the man. He still respected his intelligence and skill, but didn't feel any attraction, as if it was never there. Edwin used to say that it was childish, that Merlin was too squeamish, that it was selfish to try to keep his hands clean in the middle of the war, and perhaps he was right about that. But Merlin couldn't change how he felt, even if he'd wanted to. All their tryst left him with were regrets and shame for having been fooled so easily.
Now the last thing he wanted was to be puppy-smitten with the son of Uther Pendragon. It would be a betrayal of all he was, an insult to himself and all of his people who had suffered at Uther's hands. It couldn't possibly end in anything but disaster. And the fact that Arthur was completely in his power, his to do with as he pleased, made everything infinitely worse.
Arthur stood by the half-disassembled boiler, looking at him with an odd, quizzical expression. Bruised, surrounded by people who hated him and wanted him broken, he still stood tall and unafraid, still had the nerve to speak his mind. And he still looked so beautiful, his hair shining in the dull basement lights, his perfect jaw set firmly, and Merlin couldn't help but feel his heart flood with stupid, useless, wrong feelings, and he didn't want any of it.
"I was like you once, Arthur Pendragon," said Tauren. "Much as the comparison disgusts me. Once upon a time I didn't think any work was beneath me, if it needed doing. When I was needed, I left my job at the research lab, turned my back on my career and my dreams, on everything I worked for all my life, and I went to fight for my people."
"You were a terrorist?" Arthur asked, and that was it. Merlin crossed the room, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out. Arthur went without struggle, quietly, and that helped dissolve some of his rage.
"First of all," Merlin said as soon as they were alone in a secluded corridor. "Tauren was a freedom fighter. He fought for our freedom."
"Fat lot of good it did you," muttered Arthur.
"No, it didn't do me any good. In fact, when his group was arrested, what they did was used as an excuse to start taking people who hadn't done anything wrong. I was twelve when it started: mandatory psychological evaluations of all magic users. And they were all evaluated to be potentially dangerous. If it hadn’t been for my mother that would have been it for me, right then. Three years in a mental institution, and then four years in here. That would've been my life. But he fought for my freedom. He'd give his life for my freedom."
"Did he kill anyone?"
"Yes. Most of the people here have, you know. I have. Mordred has."
"Mordred? Really?"
"Really. About fifty people. Don't piss him off, seriously. But if someone was to actually count how many of us are dead now because of your father..."
"That's different!"
"For you, yes, of course it is. I don't expect you to understand."
To his surprise, that somehow shut Arthur up. He bit his lip and looked down, and only then Merlin realised he was still clutching at his arm. He let go and stepped back, so he wouldn't be breathing right into Arthur's face.
"Second thing," he said. "Thanks for not being a dick to me in front of them. I know you probably wanted to."
"Well, a certain decorum is necessary, if we want to keep up this weird charade you have going with them."
"It's not a charade."
"I heard them. They all talk about you like you're some sort of evil magic messiah. I don't know how you've fooled them all, but the moment they aren't scared of you any more they'll eat you alive. So, whatever you need to do to keep it going, I'll go along with it."
"Will you?" Merlin asked. His mouth suddenly went dry with a rush of temptation, shameful and dirty, completely beneath him. He's been fighting it for days now, he was a better man than that, or at least he wanted to be. But it was too much, with Arthur standing right there, so close, speaking to him softly, trustingly, blindly offering anything Merlin would ask. Like he had the absolute faith that Merlin could never ask for anything he wouldn't want to give.
"Yes," said Arthur simply, and the sound of it shot through Merlin's whole body, right down to his cock. For the last three days it had been a struggle not to pop a boner whenever Arthur was around, and it was getting out of control. He needed to get some privacy and wank for a good hour or so, soon. It would be best to go right now, just walk away and not come near Arthur till he could think clearly again.
"Right. How about kneeling at my feet, then?" he heard himself saying instead, and a part of him was horrified and disgusted, but it obviously wasn't in control right now.
"I don't know," said Arthur contemplatively. "It might be a struggle for me. I'm sure you understand. We could practise alone before we try that in public."
"Very funny, Arthur."
"No, I'm serious. Say it. You have to say it. Tell me to kneel."
He stared right into Merlin's eyes, his pupils blown wide in the dimness of the corridor, his breaths quickened. The order was at the tip of Merlin's tongue, about to spill out, and not just because he wanted to see it: Arthur Pendragon kneeling before him, willingly, obediently, his face level with Merlin's straining cock, his neck bent down submissively, in complete surrender. He wanted that - but also, somehow, the compulsion to do whatever Arthur asked of him, even when he asked to be given orders, was worryingly strong. He couldn't allow that to take over him. This was a cruel joke, a mind game, something. He was a Pendragon, he was playing him, of course.
"I guess we both will have to work at this," whispered Arthur, smiling faintly. "That's okay. I'll teach you how to sound authoritative."
"What the fuck," managed Merlin. "Stop."
"Fine, I'll just do it."
He put his hand on Merlin's elbow for balance and sank down on one knee, almost touching it to the floor before Merlin gathered what was left of his wits and jerked him upright by the shoulders.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
"You know what will get us both killed in here, Merlin?" said Arthur, not breaking out of his hold. His face was pink, with either embarrassment or anger. "My fucking pride and your - your weakness. I don't want to die here. We have to get over our hangups, we have to play the game."
"It's not... All right. Fine. I need to explain this to you. I didn't want to, I still don't want you to know, but you need to understand. Come on. I'll show you."
He took them down to the segregation, past the solitary units, to the end of the corridor where the box still sat against the wall, where he left it. It was now orange with rust, surrounded by a ring of dust that fell off its edges. Eventually it would all rust through and dissolve into a small heap of metal oxides, but for now it still held its shape.
"Woah," Arthur crouched next to it and peeked inside through the mess of the front wall where the door used to be. It was still there somewhere, mashed into the torn and twisted ribbons of iron. "Looks like a cannon hit it from the inside. What was in there? Some magical beast?"
"Me. Your father used this for punishment."
"Shit," said Arthur.
"It was supposed to be impossible to get out of. This metal, cold iron, it drains magic, it's like you can feel it being sucked out of you, along with bits of yourself. Nobody could do anything in there, not even warm themselves up or cast sleep on themselves to make time pass faster. Nobody ever."
"It's really small," Arthur ducked inside, like he wanted to get in and experience what it was like for him. He saw the bucket in the corner and cringed. "That – that's cruel. I'm sorry."
"Are you listening? It's supposed to be impossible to get out. I was in there when the riot started. I knew it was coming, and I didn't want to fight. Whatever, yes, I was a coward, I was selfish, I didn't want to kill anyone. I could've told your father and saved all those guards, but I couldn't betray my people."
"So you got yourself locked up in this thing."
"Yeah."
"Brilliant tactical move, dickhead."
"I know. I know, all right? I didn't know what to do! Stupid decisions, I told you. When I felt people dying, I couldn't – I got out. I tried to save everyone, but I just ended up having to choose. I had to kill some of them to stop them killing others. Three. Maybe four. That one might have survived, I don't know."
"Guards or inmates?" Arthur asked, breaking his train of thought, and now he saw them again, as they fell, screaming, and he tried to contain the damage, but everything was too much. He let his magic flow wild to break the cold iron cage, dropped all the barriers he knew he had, and it was coursing through him, overwhelming, roaring, taking over all of his senses. He could barely see with his eyes – his magic flooded his head with patterns of energy and elements, so far beyond the spectrum of normal vision he couldn't even map it all onto the three dimensions, sliding through time when he wanted to just move, his body ghosting through several places at once.
Arthur's hand was on his shoulder, rubbing down firmly, reassuringly.
"Don't tell me, you don't have to tell me now," he was saying. "Shh, it's okay. Just go back to the story, leave that for now. Come on, what happened afterwards?"
"I got out whom I could. Your father, too. I didn't want to - I wanted to let them kill him, Arthur. I nearly did let them."
"Of course you wanted that. Why wouldn't you have? You would," said Arthur and suddenly dropped his hand. Its absence left a cold spot on Merlin's shoulder.
"Wait," Arthur said. "He never told me how he got out. Was it you, really? How?"
"Like this," Merlin flicked his fingers at the box and slid it through the wall in a sloppy, careless push. They heard the thing rattle against the floor on the other side, rolling around. Arthur rushed to the wall and put his hands on it, feeling the place where the box went through. It wasn't even scratched, but he palmed at the concrete as if hoping to find a secret to the trick, a trap door, maybe. A slab of plaster came off the wall and crashed on his feet, powdering him with thin dust.
"What," Arthur said weakly.
"Vibrations."
"Yeah, no, not the plaster."
"Magic."
"Right. But, all right, but how come they haven't tried to kill you yet? Don't they know you saved him?"
"Of course they do. And yeah, some tried. Didn't work out so well for them."
He felt calmer now that the worst part of the story was nearly over, and he could look at Arthur again. But Arthur was lost in his own troubled thoughts now, his eyes huge, wide open and very blue, fixed on nothing.
"He lied to me," he muttered. "My dad, he... I asked him about you – you saved his life, and he didn't tell me. You – you're fucking crazy, Merlin. The more I know you, the less I understand how you're still alive."
"They can't kill me. Really, I mean it, enough people have tried by now. Not just because of Uther. They were angry, yeah, but I told them they should suck it up, vengeance is a completely useless thing and we needed him to be our liaison, he wouldn't make trouble after what he'd seen in here. And he never has."
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you think this place was never stormed or under siege? They just let us have it."
"It's cheaper and safer to..."
"Yeah, right. Why do you think we're still in here? We can leave any time we want, I think you realise that by now."
"I don't know why, Merlin, why don't you enlighten me?"
"I'm holding a barrier of magic over the Facility. Nobody gets out. Nobody gets in. Not unless I let them. Nobody will take revenge on us for what we did, and nobody will hurt us anymore."
"It's you? You're keeping them here?"
"Yes. I don't want them out there. I saw what we can be, like a fucking pack of animals, running the prey down. Here we're safe, and the world is safe from us. Some still want to leave, but that's not up to them. Everyone stays, because I say so."
Arthur raked his hand through his hair and heaved a shaky breath.
"That makes sense," he said. "Something didn't add up, but that makes sense."
"So that's the story. That's who I am. Maybe I'm a traitor to my people, maybe I am an evil magic messiah, maybe I'm not even human, because my power is nothing like what any of them has. Maybe this whole thing was a really stupid idea. But I'm doing it. I'm their protector and I'm their keeper and they can't do anything to me. And some of them hate me, some of them worship me in a really creepy way, but they're all afraid of me, and that won't change just because I'm not making you... That's never going to change."
"Why didn't you just tell me right away?"
"I didn't want you to be afraid of me," he said, voice catching in a whiny, pathetic way. "I wanted to just be Merlin. Like, maybe we could be, I don't know. Friends, sort of."
"Oh, please. I'm not afraid of you, Merlin. What a ridiculous thing to say."
Somehow the obvious lie made him angrier than he'd felt in months. It was all wrong from the start, he shouldn't have wanted this, Edwin was right. He was being played again, just like before, letting himself be led on and used because he was horny and lonely and he didn't have anyone for so long. He was an idiot to fall for this man, an outsider, their enemy. Arthur was nothing like that shining image he'd built up in his head, this was all just pretence, bluster and fake courage, Pendragon pride and entitlement. He had to end it right now. Years of old suppressed anger boiled up all at once, and all he wanted was to ruin everything immediately, make it final, end all hopes, burn this weakness out of his soul.
He grabbed at Arthur's neck and slammed him into the wall, hard, just with his strength, not even putting any magic into it yet. Arthur let him do it, let his back hit flaky plaster in a soft, practised way, like a trained athlete who knows how to cushion any kind of fall. He looked a little surprised, but still not scared, and Merlin had to get to him, had to rip this perfect mask off, see the real man inside, terrified and revolted. He needed the truth.
"Don't talk to me like that," he hissed in Arthur's face, leaning on him to box him against the wall. "You're mine. You belong to me. You've no idea what kinds of things I can do to you."
And that did something, there was something flitting across Arthur's face now, something real and raw.
"I can kill you whenever I want to," Merlin continued. "Nobody would help you."
"Yeah, I know, but," said Arthur in an oddly scratchy voice, like his throat already went dry with fear, and licked his lips with a tip of his tongue. "It's not like you would. I don't really get what you're saying here. I mean, if you didn't have magic, I've got twice your muscle weight, I could take you apart with one blow. Would you be randomly scared of me?"
His pulse hammered wildly under Merlin's fingers where they were splayed over his collarbone, and his whole body was taut and stiff; this close up Merlin could feel the shivers running through Arthur's hard stomach.
"You are afraid," said Merlin triumphantly. "You're shaking with it."
"I'm not, Merlin, stop this already," Arthur shifted against him uncomfortably, something almost like pain making his mouth quirk. "I'm... uh."
Merlin grabbed him and shoved him back again, to hold him in place, and then he felt it: Arthur's cock, hard against his thigh, swelling more as he leaned closer, unable to help himself.
Arthur was blushing now, face screwed up awkwardly, and pushing him off, his arms weak and uncoordinated, barely jostling him.
"Oh fuck," Merlin muttered as his own long-denied erection sprung up hard, nearly making him double over with a surge of lust. He stepped back hastily, before he could do something he'd regret, dizzy with the roaring of blood in his ears, his legs weak and trembling.
"You're really not scared, then," he said dumbly, unable to take his eyes off the bulge in Arthur's jeans. Arthur reached down to adjust himself, wincing a little, palming at his cock through the jeans to shift it in a less awkward position. Merlin's fingers were twitching to help him with that.
"No, Merlin, I'm really not scared," Arthur said in his bitchiest voice. His lips looked so soft, and he kept licking them, leaving shiny wet trails against pink. "Let me explain this to you very slowly. Power doesn't make a man scary, malice does. And – newborn baby kittens have twice the malice you do. Your magic is, well, it's kind of hot, okay, but it's not scary. You're a good man."
"Arthur, I told you, I'm -"
"You're an idiot. But also a good man. And if things were different, I'd – we'd be having sex right now. Up against this wall."
"Oh. Really," said Merlin, trying for sarcasm or denial, or something. The way it came out was like he was begging for proof, which wasn't what he was going for, at all. Arthur was still slumped against the wall, shifting his legs in obvious discomfort: he still was so hard, the outlines of his thick cock clearly visible through the denim now. Arthur's eyes were fixed on Merlin's mouth, the intensity of the stare making him feel hot all over, making him shift closer without even noticing.
"Yes," said Arthur, almost breathlessly, but with firm conviction. "Trust me, Merlin, I can be so charming, your pants would like, evaporate. But we're not going to. And it's not just because of the whole prison bitch thing. Or the warlock thing. You're an inmate, and this would be a horrid abuse of my father's position."
At first Merlin couldn't even process that, his brain stuck somewhere around the idea of not having pants on, flinging himself at Arthur and rubbing himself all over that lovely body, and all the ways he could spread Arthur out with the magic, gently, carefully, hold them both suspended mid-air to do just as he pleased, for as long as he pleased. He would have moaned out loud at the images in his head if Arthur's words hadn't snapped him back to reality, and he yelled, annoyed beyond coherency:
"What? What? And you're calling me an idiot? Have you been paying attention to anything at all? Your father has no power here! And he abandoned you! He gave you to his enemies, to play with! My mother would have grabbed me and run half way across the world, she would have killed anyone in her way, she would never have let something like this happen to me -"
"My father has responsibilities, you wouldn't understand," muttered Arthur distractedly, like he really had no idea what words his mouth was making. And then he surged forward, grabbed Merlin's head with both hands and smashed their lips together.
It was awkward and a little painful with the sudden brutality of it, and so impossibly sweet Merlin felt his eyes rolling back, shutting against his will. Arthur was growling into his mouth, scraping his lips with sharp teeth, forcing his tongue in, thrusting it against Merlin's to get more friction. Merlin let himself be pulled closer, slapped his both palms against the wall near Arthur's head and dove in, biting and licking those lips he'd been staring at for days, drinking in sweet scent of Arthur's breath, the slickness of his mouth, pressing closer and closer to get deeper in, as deep as he could. He was dimly aware that he was drooling all over Arthur's face like a dog, but couldn't stop, and couldn't stop humping his leg, either. Arthur's fingers tightened in his hair, and then their hold disappeared and he whined into the kiss, bereft. But next moment Arthur's large hands were grabbing at his arse, palming it hard, shifting him to stand between his spread legs so he could rub himself right against Arthur's thick, deliciously hard cock. He wanted it in his mouth so, so badly, but couldn't have broken the kiss if his life depended on it.
Arthur pulled back first and tried to say something, but his lips were wet, puffy where they were bitten and lusciously red. So Merlin fisted both hands in Arthur's soft, beautiful hair and kissed him again, harder and harder, licking greedily across his lips and sucking on his tongue as he ground down with his hips. He could feel it almost building now, the long, long awaited release, like his whole body was wound up tight for the last three days and was going to uncoil now, be free and weightless and float up to the sky on this wave of bliss that was rolling closer and closer.
Arthur's hands slipped down his trousers, gave his arse a quick hard squeeze, and slid to the front. Merlin moaned something wordlessly ecstatic and shifted his hips to rub his cock at Arthur's hands, every touch a jolt of sweet white heat, and tried to fumble with the buttons on Arthur's fly one-handed. As much as he wanted to have Arthur's cock twitching in his fist, getting harder and hotter as he squeezed down, he just couldn't let go of Arthur's hair. It felt like the best thing he'd ever touched, and he needed to hold Arthur's head in place to keep kissing him, forever if at all possible.
"Ugh, you're so useless," panted Arthur against his lips, grabbed his hips and lifted him so easily – before Merlin could gasp and object he was propped against the opposite wall, and Arthur was on his knees in front of him, tearing down his uniform trousers.
Merlin's mouth made a string of sounds that made no sense whatsoever even to himself. He pulled gently on Arthur's hair, his fingers still tangled in it. Arthur gave him a quick look, with just a flash of his white teeth between kiss-swollen lips, his strong warm hand already squeezing Merlin's cock by the root. He planted a wet sloppy kiss on Merlin's stomach and sucked the cock head into his mouth, lapping around it eagerly, hungrily, with lingering broad swipes of his tongue.
Merlin couldn't stay still, rocking on the balls of his feet to get in deeper, or maybe pull back to make this last longer, his body couldn't decide what it wanted more. Arthur pushed him into the wall with both arms and held him there, one hand spread on his chest under his shirt, thumbing at his nipple, the other clasped on his arse cheek, fingers kneading at it, dipping into his crack, stroking sensitive places there. His mouth slid down, lips tight and soft and tongue working incredible patterns against the veins on the underside, and pulled back up, sucking just hard enough to be almost too much, almost enough to make him come on that first stroke.
"Arthur, Arthur," Merlin panted, hands pawing uncontrollably all over Arthur's gorgeous face, touching at his lips where they were stretched tight around his cock. Arthur moaned loudly, sending the vibrations through his skin, and they rolled through his tightening balls, and all the way up to top of his head, making everything tingle. He'd dropped his hand from Merlin's chest, pushed his jeans down and was now working his own cock in his fist, in hard, fast pulls, and Merlin could barely see it, needed to touch it.
But before he could voice his protest Arthur gave his cock a long wet lick, took him back in, deeper now, and started to suck harder, faster, and it was happening, oh, it was there, and he threw his head back and screamed into the ceiling as his orgasm washed over him, long and hard, draining him utterly, leaving him shaking and sated.
When he'd looked back down again, still dizzy and bleary-eyed with it, Arthur had come already, was milking last drops out of his still hard cock, letting them puddle on the concrete floor. His face was pressed against Merlin's thigh, and his harsh panting breaths where searing Merlin's skin, and that was enough to make him start getting hard again – too soon, he was too spent, it was too much.
He kept stroking Arthur's hair, slowly coming down and feeling increasingly uneasy as his brain started thinking thoughts again. Eventually Arthur stirred and moved away, shifted on his knees to pull his jeans back up. He wouldn't look up, staring fixedly into the floor. He buttoned up his fly and still stayed there, sitting on his heels. Then he leaned sideways and lightly banged his head against the wall a few times.
"Yeah," said Merlin, nodding wholeheartedly.
"Oh, shut the fuck up."
"What, you started it."
"If you tell anyone about this..."
He didn't continue, obviously for the lack of any believable threat he could make.
"Funny thing, I was going to say that to you," said Merlin. "But then I thought: which of your many friends around here would you tell?"
Arthur raised his head to give him an evil stare, and he looked so good – dishevelled, flushed, his mouth swollen and red, his eyes clear and, despite the attempted glare, so very soft. Merlin knelt down and kissed him again, licked at bitter drops of his own come in the corners of Arthur's lips and down his chin. Arthur shut his eyes and sighed into his mouth, contently, straining for more as Merlin pulled back.
"I don't want them to know," Merlin said. "Yeah, they all expect me to fuck you, or think I am already, but I didn't want it to actually be true. Not like this, not here."
"Well, it's true," muttered Arthur against his lips. "Just have to deal with it."
"Do you really think my magic is hot?"
Arthur looked at him with a confused frown for a couple of seconds, and then burst into giggles. He slumped forward, draping himself over Merlin in a move that was not quite a cuddle but close enough, and carried on laughing into his shoulder.
"Weirdo," he said.
"Me? Arthur, you're easily the weirdest guy I've ever met. And I've met some pretty special people."
"Yeah, no doubt. Okay, go do the walk of shame, I need to shower. You've dribbled your man juice all over me."
As soon as Merlin walked into the cell Mordred took one look at him and started snickering.
"Not a word from you," Merlin warned. "And don't tell anyone. Please."
He made it to the bunk, his legs still wobbling unsteadily, and stretched on his back.
He felt incredibly good. Every bit of his body felt good. His head was clear and light, his every muscle and bone felt warm, strong, supple. His bruised lips tingled and his cock was the happiest cock on the planet, and he couldn't relax his face enough to stop smiling.
Mordred climbed over him, wrinkling his nose at the smell and still smirking, and settled between him and the wall, curling his back against Merlin's side.
Arthur came in after a while, carrying his wet button-down shirt in outstretched arms and shaking it out with extreme concentration. His white t-shirt was tight and clingy, and Merlin allowed himself to look his fill.
"Had to partially wash it," Arthur said, spreading the shirt over the bunk frame. "Do you have laundry detergent? I couldn't find any."
"There's soap."
"Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that."
He wouldn't quite look at Merlin, but once he was done hanging up the shirt he sat down on the floor and sprawled backwards, his shoulders propped on the edge of the bed, his head resting on the mattress next to Merlin's hip.
"Are you all right there?" Merlin asked, carefully dipping his fingertips into damp strands of Arthur's hair.
"Yeah, fine."
"Do you want a pillow to sit on?"
"No, I don't want a pillow, and you just gave that little pervert the wrong impression because it's not what happened, not that it's any of his business. Yes, Mordred, I know you're awake. Tell Brigit I said hi."
"Brigit is mildly pleased with your offerings," droned Mordred into the wall.
"Mildly?" yelped Arthur in indignation, and Mordred laughed out loud at that, happily and squeakily, startling Merlin a little. He's never heard him really laugh before.
"I would like him," Merlin heard him say. "If he wasn't who he is."
"It's not his fault."
"It wasn't my fault when they were going to kill me. Nobody cares if it's fair or not."
There was nothing to say to that. Merlin clandestinely stroked Arthur's hair, feeling it soften and dry under his fingers. Arthur turned his head and brushed his cheek against Merlin's knuckles, and then seemed lost in thought. As time passed his face slowly hardened, the small content smile turned into a scowl, and soon he was no longer lounging, sat there rigidly with his arms crossed on his chest.
"Arthur, stop revelling in your manly angst, it's really annoying. What we did – it doesn't have to happen again," said Merlin.
"No, I'm thinking about my father. I don't know how to talk to him now."
"I wouldn't tell him if I were you. He doesn't like me very much."
"Not that! I wasn't planning on telling my father – seriously, what's wrong with you? I meant, all the things I've found out here. He's been lying to me. I just don't understand."
"Don't tell him that either. This isn't a good time to make him mad, Arthur. You need him to keep fighting to get you out. Don't give him any excuses to back down."
Instead of arguing as usual Arthur just nodded glumly, and Merlin felt a small pang of guilt. To open Arthur's eyes to everything that had been done by Uther, make him doubt his father, even turn against him - that would be the ultimate revenge, really. But vengeance was a completely useless thing, he believed that even if he still wanted it sometimes, and he wasn't going to wreck Arthur's heart for something completely useless.
"I'm sure he'll do it soon," he said. "He might have sorted everything out already. You might be out today."
"Maybe."
It was possible. Merlin untangled his fingers from Arthur's hair – it had dried while he was petting it, and now was sticking up at odd angles, which looked far sexier than it had any right to. It would be good if Arthur could go home today. Nothing disastrous has happened yet, nothing any of them wouldn't recover from, and he already had the good memories to last him for years. This would be perfect timing.
"If I do get out, promise me something," said Arthur.
"Sure, anything."
"Fix this place up. Tell everyone to pull their fingers out and at least clear the rubble. And take the broken cell doors down, they're a hazard and they're rusting, you'll all get tetanus. And for fuck's sake, get rid of that red splat on the wall – and please don't tell me what it actually is. If you need anything, supplies, paint, whatever, make a list and I'll talk to my father. This place has been way under budget for a year now, you have the funds to install hot tubs on every floor if you want to."
"Um, why do you want me to do that?"
"Because it's horrible! It's filthy! No, I get it, this place was your prison and you all hate it. And a lot of you might have depression and PTSD with all that's happened, and some of those psychiatric diagnoses clearly aren't bogus. So yeah, I understand that you're not the most industrious bunch and you'd rather cast a warmth spell and sleep in it all day. But this needs to be done. You're keeping them here, you have to make this into a home."
"No, I told them not to touch it. Leave it all as it is. So we always remember what happened, what was done to us and what we did, and why we can never leave."
"And this is just another example of why you shouldn't be in charge of anything."
"I don't even have a comeback to that," admitted Merlin, trying and failing to get as insulted as he felt he should be. "Words are inadequate to describe what a prat you are. Tauren's right: you've been here three days and you already think you would've done everything better, that's just – such bollocks. I tried my best, considering I never wanted to be in charge! And why should I listen to you, anyway? You're a Pendragon, I should trust your advice even less than I do Edwin's."
"Because, the whole sanity issue aside, your Edwin studied medicine or whatever, and I almost have joint honours in Political Science and Economics. Way more relevant. So think of me as a professional consultant, and my professional advice is to paint the fucking walls already. This war will never be over until we all start moving on."
"I don't even think it can be over. Not after – everything."
"See," said Arthur. "This is exactly what I mean. You can't effectively manage several hundred crazy homicidal warlocks with a defeatist attitude like this."
He shifted against the bed and butted his head into Merlin's fingers, which Merlin took as a permission to pet him some more. This time he used just a tiniest frisson of magic, letting some of this odd, fluttery affection pooled in his chest pour out through his fingertips, sink back into Arthur's skin as a different kind of caress, barely felt, just enough to make it more memorable.
He didn't go down to the gates with Arthur. He stayed in the cell and waited for sunset with his eyes shut and his mind emptied. As the sun touched the horizon, making his magic swirl yearningly, he reached outside the building and felt for the barrier.
It wasn't any spell, just his raw power stretched over the fence like a bubble, grounding him to the compound. He was fused into it now, his magic rooted into the concrete and woven through the sky above them. He thought at first that it would quickly drain him, he wouldn't last few hours holding it up. But all the destructive spells the others threw at the barrier in the very beginning, when they tried to break out before the army would get here, didn't tear at him as he expected it to. They hurt and were terrifying to take head on without letting his magic flinch away and dissipate, but he did it, and as he absorbed each hit they fed right back into him as purest energy, strengthening his hold. Nowadays he barely felt it when someone attempted an attack.
Now it took no effort whatsoever to manipulate the barrier, no more than moving his eyelids. It was a familiar, almost pleasant ache in his mind, and soon he could believe he always had lived like this: his magic unravelled, strained and spread across half a square mile, seeping freely into the ley lines of the land. He was a part of the landscape, his body sometimes lost on his mental map because the whole of the Facility was him now, the physical frame for his power.
He knew from the start this fixed pulse of large-scale magic would do something to the land. And it was doing it, more with every day, warping the flow of elements around his protective cocoon in the ways far beyond his understanding. Only a few months later, just before Mordred had arrived, he realised what was happening to him and to everything around him. The earth had surrendered against the constant, foreign pull of his magic and let him in, took him in as something that belonged, and was now feeding him with its strength. He had created his own place of power. Here he was already almost invincible; with time he could become limitless.
He stroked his magic through the whole span of the barrier, enjoying the feel of its smooth, untarnished integrity. Then he took a breath and opened the gateway.
He held it for fifteen minutes, as always, confident that should something happen in that time the others would hold the defence till he was alerted. Mordred was watching him quietly: he loved looking at Merlin when he worked the barrier. As he reached to the outer boundary of himself he felt the earth tugging at his magic, just a whisper, like skin catching on skin – almost nothing. But Mordred could see it, and he liked watching.
Then the time was up, and he slowly slid the breach closed and waited.
He could ask Mordred if Arthur had left. Mordred was amazing at pinpointing people's locations by casting for their minds. But Merlin didn't want to let on how much this got to him, how desperate he was for an answer. He could wait and find out.
He wanted Arthur to leave. He wanted Arthur to go home, be safe and happy. It was incredibly, horribly selfish to wish him to stay.
When he heard the familiar footsteps outside the cell his whole face broke into a ridiculous, inappropriate grin, and he had to struggle to look sombre, nearly had to douse himself with a spell to do it.
"Sorry," he said with painstakingly emoted sadness as Arthur came back in and sat on the bunk, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"It's all right."
"Maybe tomorrow."
"Maybe."
They sat together in silence, no words good enough to match all their moods. Then Mordred got bored and went out for fresh food, and they all picked at it with the same lack of enthusiasm.
"There's just... no real hope," whispered Arthur eventually, very quietly.
He didn't know what to say. Arthur's eyes glistened wetly, just for a second, and then he was in motion again, pacing the room, stretching, surreptitiously wiping at his face and faking a yawn to hide it.
"So, tomorrow, what shall we do tomorrow," he said with his usual cheery arrogance. "I suggest we... What's that sound?"
"Where?"
"I don't know," he turned about, screwing up his face in a hilarious expression of puzzled concentration. "Don't you hear it? Sort of a bubbling hissing sound."
Merlin tried to listen harder, and only then noticed the familiar pattern among the background noise.
"That's just central heating," he said, and then remembered that they hadn’t had that for about eight months now. "Oh. Huh. I guess Tauren's fixed the boiler."
Arthur gaped at him for a moment, and then smiled smugly, about to say something extremely obnoxious. But instead he just started laughing, loudly, till he was out of breath, shaking his head and waving his hands in pure glee, and Merlin wasn't sure he understood what was so funny, but still couldn't help laughing along with him.
Next Part
Fandom: Merlin BBC
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin and a bunch of less true pairings mentioned in the flashbacks.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings for this part: sexy tiems! :D
Summary: Modern AU. Originally written for this prompt at
kinkme_merlinMany thanks to
devikun and ghost_guessed for betaing!Word count: 9K for this part.
First part
Chapter index
Part 8: Boundary
Merlin slept till well past noon. Since the riot he'd perfected the art of sleeping for ten hours a day at least, and sometimes could manage twelve in a row. There wasn't much else to do, and anything he could use to break up his day had to be spaced out evenly and savoured for all it was worth. Ever since he all but stopped talking to the others and had memorised all the books he had interest in reading the most exciting activity he had left was eating. And he was never that into food.
He woke up slowly, and lazed on his bunk with his eyes closed, hoping to doze off again. Mordred wasn't in bed with him, which was unusual. Mordred always got up early and went outside around dawn time, probably to do something Druidic. But then he would come back and tuck himself against Merlin's side again, and stay there, warm and quiet, for a few hours more.
Merlin didn't mind. Sometimes the need for privacy would be immediate like a physical ache, and he would push everyone away and spend a day or night on the roof, often standing in a pouring raid he'd summon to match his mood, keeping himself warm with spells even as his skin chilled till it felt too tight for his body. But mostly he liked Mordred's silent company. Nobody else wanted to be near Mordred since he arrived here, not even the other druids, just like nobody really wanted to be near Merlin since the day of the riot. That suited them both perfectly. They didn't need anybody else.
Suddenly he remembered, and jerked fully awake against the sinking feeling of impending disaster.
When he'd gone to sleep, the top bunk was sagging under the weight of Arthur's heavy, muscled body. It had been easier to handle yesterday, with Mordred breathing softly by his side, but being alone in the room made him too conscious of Arthur being so close, suspended above him. If he made the top bunk disappear, Arthur would fall on top of him. He actually had to concentrate on not making that happen.
He'd spent a good part of the night staring upwards in the dark, imagining the outlines of Arthur's back on top of the mattress, trying to map out movements of his limbs every time the bed frame creaked. This whole thing wasn't working out the way he expected it to.
All he wanted was to keep everyone safe. It wasn't right to let a man be tortured just because he got stuck with Uther Pendragon for a father, that wasn't his fault. Merlin thought he'd keep Arthur with him, under his protection, for a few days. Just till everyone got used to his presence and the idea of making him suffer for their amusement lost its fresh appeal. And then – well, then something would happen, things would sort themselves out. Planning far ahead was never his forte.
He'd expected Arthur Pendragon to spend his time in the Facility being quiet, shaken up, keeping his head down. Easy to ignore. Knowing Uther, it was possible that his son had inherited some of his personality traits, and would take finding himself safe and protected as his cue to be obnoxious and resentful. It didn't matter. Merlin wasn't doing any of it to earn anybody's gratitude.
He hadn't expected Arthur to be anything like this.
The top bunk was now empty. Mordred sat on the floor by the wall, doing something highly involved to his toy knights. He threw Merlin a quick smile over his shoulder and turned back to his work.
"Where's Arthur?" Merlin asked.
"Underground," said Mordred's voice inside his head.
"What? Why?"
"He's looking for something."
Mostly he liked mind-speaking and there were days, sometimes weeks, when they communicated only by snippets of thought pushed inside each other's heads. But sometimes it just was unnecessarily creepy.
He touched at Mordred's mind, trying for more, and got an image of Arthur wandering around the basement, tracing the routes of the water pipes along the walls and uncertainly poking at the machinery.
"He'll get hurt," he thought at Mordred furiously.
"They wouldn't. He's yours."
"You don't like him, do you?" he asked quickly. Sometimes an element of surprise would get him a more direct answer. It worked, in a way: he got a sudden flood of thoughts and memories. Arthur's voice, serious and impressed, as he talked about Mordred's art projects, the sound of his amused laughter, Arthur's eyes, sharp and clever, the tilt of his head as he listened to what was said around him, carefully talking it all in; the long half-lidded look he'd sometimes give Merlin – trying to figure him out, perhaps. Arthur's face, chalk white and wrecked, locked in fierce concentration, as they saw him for the first time: half-naked, beaten, shaking, ready to fight again.
Mordred shut him out so fast that it felt like a sting to his mind.
"No. I don't like him," he thought at Merlin sulkily. "He doesn't belong here. But you have needs, I get that."
"It's not like that..."
Mordred turned around and looked at him reproachfully, and Merlin sighed and conceded the point. It was quite a bit like that, even though he wasn't going to act on it, ever. Arthur was a very handsome man, and everyone around here expected him to take advantage. Even Arthur himself. He could see that.
"I better go find him," he sighed.
Mordred's back was turned to him, narrow and hunched over, his shoulder blades sticking out sharply under the coarse orange uniforms. Merlin petted his hair on the way out of the cell, and Mordred leaned into it slightly, but ducked away almost immediately, looking annoyed. He must be already getting too old for cuddles.
Arthur was still in the basement. He had finished exploring and was now taking apart some metal box, wrestling the screws undone with his fingers and a broken plastic spoon.
He wasn't alone. There was about twenty others in the room, sat along the walls, watching Arthur work. They were talking among themselves, discussing him: the speed at which his bruises were healing, whether or not he was limping from being well used, what part of his body Merlin considered his best feature. Arthur was ignoring them easily, without even tensing up. He took a step backwards for more leverage against the panel he was wrangling open, and a sneakily thrown spell swept his legs from underneath him, creating a vicious momentum.
Arthur fell heavily and landed hard on his back, accompanied by guffawing laughter from all the spectators. It took him a good few seconds to get his breath back. He got up slowly, surrounded by mocking sniggering, red-faced and furious, clenching his fists.
"How clumsy of me," he said finally and bent toward the panel again.
Another spell swished across the room, aiming at the backs of his knees. Arthur grabbed onto a pipe, side-stepped the blow, almost managing to avoid being jostled, and stayed on his feet.
"I don't want to catch any of you doing this again," said Merlin from the doorway. Phil quickly tucked his hands between his knees and attempted to look innocent.
"Don't let him wander off if you don't want him hurt," said Tauren glumly. "Tempting people like that is irresponsible."
Arthur turned to Merlin at the sound of his voice and stood there, silent and expressionless, clearly not sure how to even talk to him in front of the others. Merlin didn't quite know how to act with all of them watching, either.
"What are you doing here, Arthur?" he said as neutrally as he could.
"I'm trying to fix the heating," Arthur answered eagerly, happy for an easy topic to discuss. "I think I've found the boiler! Now it's gotta be something simple, like flipping a switch. Or a loose wire. We'll get it going again in no time."
"We don't need the boiler to work," said Tauren. "Merlin, please. If you want to keep him, keep him in your room. I don't have a quarrel with him, but the more I look at him traipsing around, sticking his nose into our business..."
"Why do you have a problem with me fixing a boiler, anyway?" asked Arthur, whirling around to face Tauren. "What is it you have against central heating and hot water?"
"We don't need it. A warmth spell is the first one a child learns."
"So in winter you just sit in your own warmth and not shower? That's really gross."
"Nice, finely honed bigotry there from Pendragon the youngest, his father taught him well. But he needs to start learning to respect our culture if he's going to live among us. Merlin, you should be telling him this, not me."
"It's nothing to do with culture! It's a bloody boiler!"
"Arthur," said Merlin. "Leave it."
"Merlin, with your permission, I'd like to ask him a question," said Tauren.
"Be my guest," sighed Merlin. This was going to get tiresome very quickly. He didn't want to hurt Tauren. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He's had enough of that a long time ago.
"You don't need permission to talk to me," said Arthur. It was like his mouth was on inertia and wouldn't stop running off; he'd just keep digging himself in deeper till somebody knocked him unconscious and put them all out of this misery.
"You don't know what I need. You have no idea what any of us need or want. Do you even understand how much you're insulting us all? How dare you assume we need your help with this, or anything else? Why would you think there is something all of us couldn't achieve in a year that you'll be able to fix?"
"This is technology," said Arthur, unwavering. "It's the opposite of magic, isn't it? I have more affinity with it than any of you do. What, I'm not an idiot, this is something I can help with."
Tauren stared at him till Merlin was taut with tension, a spell ready and twitching on his lips. And then Tauren bent forward, dropped his head on his crossed arms where they rested on his knees and started laughing, bitterly, brokenly, almost sobbing.
"Oh, child," he said. "What a strange world you grew up in."
Arthur shrugged, pulled the last screw free and jiggled the panel open.
"Aha," he said triumphantly, flipping the switches around and pulling on the wires. "Right. Oh. What's this?"
"That's the motherboard," said Tauren. "Don't touch anything there, you've no idea what you're doing."
"Oh, and you do?"
"I've got a PhD in engineering," said Tauren. "I left the temple and my family when I was fourteen, to study technology and the ways it can be fused with magic. The practical applications would be limitless, the possibilities were..."
He sighed and fell silent, staring through the wall.
"I see," said Arthur after holding a polite pause. "Okay, I didn't know – I always thought once you start doing magic that's all you ever can do. That it changes you."
"The thesis that magic alters the psychological make-up of a person to the point where one is unsuited to most professional fields is a relatively new one," Tauren said. "I was arrested when it was still controversial. Not any more, it seems."
"How come you couldn't fix this thing, then? Does it need replacement parts? We can ask my father..."
"I didn't spend seventeen years studying so I could fix boilers in prison."
"You've not even tried? Look, no disrespect, I understand your point, this hasn't exactly been my whole life's aspiration, either. But I'm at least trying. I'm not going to give up because this work is beneath me. It still needs doing."
"He's an odd one, isn't he, Merlin?" Tauren said. "I think I see now why you're so smitten."
"Like a puppy," said Charlie from a corner and grinned at Merlin triumphantly. "There we go."
It was such an old memory. From a different lifetime, when things were so simple. Merlin still remembered his first day in here, resignation mingled with new hopes, and this promise for the future: that he'd fall in love among these walls.
He'd never been completely sure if he ever was in love with Edwin. He'd wanted to be, and at the time he believed he could be. But ever since he understood who Edwin really was, since he realised that all those spells Edwin had been teaching him were always intended to be used as weapons, that he himself was always meant to be used as Edwin's weapon, since he saw Edwin set the guards on fire and watch with a soft happy smile as they thrashed in agony, Merlin didn't have any shred of lingering affection left for the man. He still respected his intelligence and skill, but didn't feel any attraction, as if it was never there. Edwin used to say that it was childish, that Merlin was too squeamish, that it was selfish to try to keep his hands clean in the middle of the war, and perhaps he was right about that. But Merlin couldn't change how he felt, even if he'd wanted to. All their tryst left him with were regrets and shame for having been fooled so easily.
Now the last thing he wanted was to be puppy-smitten with the son of Uther Pendragon. It would be a betrayal of all he was, an insult to himself and all of his people who had suffered at Uther's hands. It couldn't possibly end in anything but disaster. And the fact that Arthur was completely in his power, his to do with as he pleased, made everything infinitely worse.
Arthur stood by the half-disassembled boiler, looking at him with an odd, quizzical expression. Bruised, surrounded by people who hated him and wanted him broken, he still stood tall and unafraid, still had the nerve to speak his mind. And he still looked so beautiful, his hair shining in the dull basement lights, his perfect jaw set firmly, and Merlin couldn't help but feel his heart flood with stupid, useless, wrong feelings, and he didn't want any of it.
"I was like you once, Arthur Pendragon," said Tauren. "Much as the comparison disgusts me. Once upon a time I didn't think any work was beneath me, if it needed doing. When I was needed, I left my job at the research lab, turned my back on my career and my dreams, on everything I worked for all my life, and I went to fight for my people."
"You were a terrorist?" Arthur asked, and that was it. Merlin crossed the room, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out. Arthur went without struggle, quietly, and that helped dissolve some of his rage.
"First of all," Merlin said as soon as they were alone in a secluded corridor. "Tauren was a freedom fighter. He fought for our freedom."
"Fat lot of good it did you," muttered Arthur.
"No, it didn't do me any good. In fact, when his group was arrested, what they did was used as an excuse to start taking people who hadn't done anything wrong. I was twelve when it started: mandatory psychological evaluations of all magic users. And they were all evaluated to be potentially dangerous. If it hadn’t been for my mother that would have been it for me, right then. Three years in a mental institution, and then four years in here. That would've been my life. But he fought for my freedom. He'd give his life for my freedom."
"Did he kill anyone?"
"Yes. Most of the people here have, you know. I have. Mordred has."
"Mordred? Really?"
"Really. About fifty people. Don't piss him off, seriously. But if someone was to actually count how many of us are dead now because of your father..."
"That's different!"
"For you, yes, of course it is. I don't expect you to understand."
To his surprise, that somehow shut Arthur up. He bit his lip and looked down, and only then Merlin realised he was still clutching at his arm. He let go and stepped back, so he wouldn't be breathing right into Arthur's face.
"Second thing," he said. "Thanks for not being a dick to me in front of them. I know you probably wanted to."
"Well, a certain decorum is necessary, if we want to keep up this weird charade you have going with them."
"It's not a charade."
"I heard them. They all talk about you like you're some sort of evil magic messiah. I don't know how you've fooled them all, but the moment they aren't scared of you any more they'll eat you alive. So, whatever you need to do to keep it going, I'll go along with it."
"Will you?" Merlin asked. His mouth suddenly went dry with a rush of temptation, shameful and dirty, completely beneath him. He's been fighting it for days now, he was a better man than that, or at least he wanted to be. But it was too much, with Arthur standing right there, so close, speaking to him softly, trustingly, blindly offering anything Merlin would ask. Like he had the absolute faith that Merlin could never ask for anything he wouldn't want to give.
"Yes," said Arthur simply, and the sound of it shot through Merlin's whole body, right down to his cock. For the last three days it had been a struggle not to pop a boner whenever Arthur was around, and it was getting out of control. He needed to get some privacy and wank for a good hour or so, soon. It would be best to go right now, just walk away and not come near Arthur till he could think clearly again.
"Right. How about kneeling at my feet, then?" he heard himself saying instead, and a part of him was horrified and disgusted, but it obviously wasn't in control right now.
"I don't know," said Arthur contemplatively. "It might be a struggle for me. I'm sure you understand. We could practise alone before we try that in public."
"Very funny, Arthur."
"No, I'm serious. Say it. You have to say it. Tell me to kneel."
He stared right into Merlin's eyes, his pupils blown wide in the dimness of the corridor, his breaths quickened. The order was at the tip of Merlin's tongue, about to spill out, and not just because he wanted to see it: Arthur Pendragon kneeling before him, willingly, obediently, his face level with Merlin's straining cock, his neck bent down submissively, in complete surrender. He wanted that - but also, somehow, the compulsion to do whatever Arthur asked of him, even when he asked to be given orders, was worryingly strong. He couldn't allow that to take over him. This was a cruel joke, a mind game, something. He was a Pendragon, he was playing him, of course.
"I guess we both will have to work at this," whispered Arthur, smiling faintly. "That's okay. I'll teach you how to sound authoritative."
"What the fuck," managed Merlin. "Stop."
"Fine, I'll just do it."
He put his hand on Merlin's elbow for balance and sank down on one knee, almost touching it to the floor before Merlin gathered what was left of his wits and jerked him upright by the shoulders.
"What are you doing?" he demanded.
"You know what will get us both killed in here, Merlin?" said Arthur, not breaking out of his hold. His face was pink, with either embarrassment or anger. "My fucking pride and your - your weakness. I don't want to die here. We have to get over our hangups, we have to play the game."
"It's not... All right. Fine. I need to explain this to you. I didn't want to, I still don't want you to know, but you need to understand. Come on. I'll show you."
He took them down to the segregation, past the solitary units, to the end of the corridor where the box still sat against the wall, where he left it. It was now orange with rust, surrounded by a ring of dust that fell off its edges. Eventually it would all rust through and dissolve into a small heap of metal oxides, but for now it still held its shape.
"Woah," Arthur crouched next to it and peeked inside through the mess of the front wall where the door used to be. It was still there somewhere, mashed into the torn and twisted ribbons of iron. "Looks like a cannon hit it from the inside. What was in there? Some magical beast?"
"Me. Your father used this for punishment."
"Shit," said Arthur.
"It was supposed to be impossible to get out of. This metal, cold iron, it drains magic, it's like you can feel it being sucked out of you, along with bits of yourself. Nobody could do anything in there, not even warm themselves up or cast sleep on themselves to make time pass faster. Nobody ever."
"It's really small," Arthur ducked inside, like he wanted to get in and experience what it was like for him. He saw the bucket in the corner and cringed. "That – that's cruel. I'm sorry."
"Are you listening? It's supposed to be impossible to get out. I was in there when the riot started. I knew it was coming, and I didn't want to fight. Whatever, yes, I was a coward, I was selfish, I didn't want to kill anyone. I could've told your father and saved all those guards, but I couldn't betray my people."
"So you got yourself locked up in this thing."
"Yeah."
"Brilliant tactical move, dickhead."
"I know. I know, all right? I didn't know what to do! Stupid decisions, I told you. When I felt people dying, I couldn't – I got out. I tried to save everyone, but I just ended up having to choose. I had to kill some of them to stop them killing others. Three. Maybe four. That one might have survived, I don't know."
"Guards or inmates?" Arthur asked, breaking his train of thought, and now he saw them again, as they fell, screaming, and he tried to contain the damage, but everything was too much. He let his magic flow wild to break the cold iron cage, dropped all the barriers he knew he had, and it was coursing through him, overwhelming, roaring, taking over all of his senses. He could barely see with his eyes – his magic flooded his head with patterns of energy and elements, so far beyond the spectrum of normal vision he couldn't even map it all onto the three dimensions, sliding through time when he wanted to just move, his body ghosting through several places at once.
Arthur's hand was on his shoulder, rubbing down firmly, reassuringly.
"Don't tell me, you don't have to tell me now," he was saying. "Shh, it's okay. Just go back to the story, leave that for now. Come on, what happened afterwards?"
"I got out whom I could. Your father, too. I didn't want to - I wanted to let them kill him, Arthur. I nearly did let them."
"Of course you wanted that. Why wouldn't you have? You would," said Arthur and suddenly dropped his hand. Its absence left a cold spot on Merlin's shoulder.
"Wait," Arthur said. "He never told me how he got out. Was it you, really? How?"
"Like this," Merlin flicked his fingers at the box and slid it through the wall in a sloppy, careless push. They heard the thing rattle against the floor on the other side, rolling around. Arthur rushed to the wall and put his hands on it, feeling the place where the box went through. It wasn't even scratched, but he palmed at the concrete as if hoping to find a secret to the trick, a trap door, maybe. A slab of plaster came off the wall and crashed on his feet, powdering him with thin dust.
"What," Arthur said weakly.
"Vibrations."
"Yeah, no, not the plaster."
"Magic."
"Right. But, all right, but how come they haven't tried to kill you yet? Don't they know you saved him?"
"Of course they do. And yeah, some tried. Didn't work out so well for them."
He felt calmer now that the worst part of the story was nearly over, and he could look at Arthur again. But Arthur was lost in his own troubled thoughts now, his eyes huge, wide open and very blue, fixed on nothing.
"He lied to me," he muttered. "My dad, he... I asked him about you – you saved his life, and he didn't tell me. You – you're fucking crazy, Merlin. The more I know you, the less I understand how you're still alive."
"They can't kill me. Really, I mean it, enough people have tried by now. Not just because of Uther. They were angry, yeah, but I told them they should suck it up, vengeance is a completely useless thing and we needed him to be our liaison, he wouldn't make trouble after what he'd seen in here. And he never has."
"What do you mean?"
"Why do you think this place was never stormed or under siege? They just let us have it."
"It's cheaper and safer to..."
"Yeah, right. Why do you think we're still in here? We can leave any time we want, I think you realise that by now."
"I don't know why, Merlin, why don't you enlighten me?"
"I'm holding a barrier of magic over the Facility. Nobody gets out. Nobody gets in. Not unless I let them. Nobody will take revenge on us for what we did, and nobody will hurt us anymore."
"It's you? You're keeping them here?"
"Yes. I don't want them out there. I saw what we can be, like a fucking pack of animals, running the prey down. Here we're safe, and the world is safe from us. Some still want to leave, but that's not up to them. Everyone stays, because I say so."
Arthur raked his hand through his hair and heaved a shaky breath.
"That makes sense," he said. "Something didn't add up, but that makes sense."
"So that's the story. That's who I am. Maybe I'm a traitor to my people, maybe I am an evil magic messiah, maybe I'm not even human, because my power is nothing like what any of them has. Maybe this whole thing was a really stupid idea. But I'm doing it. I'm their protector and I'm their keeper and they can't do anything to me. And some of them hate me, some of them worship me in a really creepy way, but they're all afraid of me, and that won't change just because I'm not making you... That's never going to change."
"Why didn't you just tell me right away?"
"I didn't want you to be afraid of me," he said, voice catching in a whiny, pathetic way. "I wanted to just be Merlin. Like, maybe we could be, I don't know. Friends, sort of."
"Oh, please. I'm not afraid of you, Merlin. What a ridiculous thing to say."
Somehow the obvious lie made him angrier than he'd felt in months. It was all wrong from the start, he shouldn't have wanted this, Edwin was right. He was being played again, just like before, letting himself be led on and used because he was horny and lonely and he didn't have anyone for so long. He was an idiot to fall for this man, an outsider, their enemy. Arthur was nothing like that shining image he'd built up in his head, this was all just pretence, bluster and fake courage, Pendragon pride and entitlement. He had to end it right now. Years of old suppressed anger boiled up all at once, and all he wanted was to ruin everything immediately, make it final, end all hopes, burn this weakness out of his soul.
He grabbed at Arthur's neck and slammed him into the wall, hard, just with his strength, not even putting any magic into it yet. Arthur let him do it, let his back hit flaky plaster in a soft, practised way, like a trained athlete who knows how to cushion any kind of fall. He looked a little surprised, but still not scared, and Merlin had to get to him, had to rip this perfect mask off, see the real man inside, terrified and revolted. He needed the truth.
"Don't talk to me like that," he hissed in Arthur's face, leaning on him to box him against the wall. "You're mine. You belong to me. You've no idea what kinds of things I can do to you."
And that did something, there was something flitting across Arthur's face now, something real and raw.
"I can kill you whenever I want to," Merlin continued. "Nobody would help you."
"Yeah, I know, but," said Arthur in an oddly scratchy voice, like his throat already went dry with fear, and licked his lips with a tip of his tongue. "It's not like you would. I don't really get what you're saying here. I mean, if you didn't have magic, I've got twice your muscle weight, I could take you apart with one blow. Would you be randomly scared of me?"
His pulse hammered wildly under Merlin's fingers where they were splayed over his collarbone, and his whole body was taut and stiff; this close up Merlin could feel the shivers running through Arthur's hard stomach.
"You are afraid," said Merlin triumphantly. "You're shaking with it."
"I'm not, Merlin, stop this already," Arthur shifted against him uncomfortably, something almost like pain making his mouth quirk. "I'm... uh."
Merlin grabbed him and shoved him back again, to hold him in place, and then he felt it: Arthur's cock, hard against his thigh, swelling more as he leaned closer, unable to help himself.
Arthur was blushing now, face screwed up awkwardly, and pushing him off, his arms weak and uncoordinated, barely jostling him.
"Oh fuck," Merlin muttered as his own long-denied erection sprung up hard, nearly making him double over with a surge of lust. He stepped back hastily, before he could do something he'd regret, dizzy with the roaring of blood in his ears, his legs weak and trembling.
"You're really not scared, then," he said dumbly, unable to take his eyes off the bulge in Arthur's jeans. Arthur reached down to adjust himself, wincing a little, palming at his cock through the jeans to shift it in a less awkward position. Merlin's fingers were twitching to help him with that.
"No, Merlin, I'm really not scared," Arthur said in his bitchiest voice. His lips looked so soft, and he kept licking them, leaving shiny wet trails against pink. "Let me explain this to you very slowly. Power doesn't make a man scary, malice does. And – newborn baby kittens have twice the malice you do. Your magic is, well, it's kind of hot, okay, but it's not scary. You're a good man."
"Arthur, I told you, I'm -"
"You're an idiot. But also a good man. And if things were different, I'd – we'd be having sex right now. Up against this wall."
"Oh. Really," said Merlin, trying for sarcasm or denial, or something. The way it came out was like he was begging for proof, which wasn't what he was going for, at all. Arthur was still slumped against the wall, shifting his legs in obvious discomfort: he still was so hard, the outlines of his thick cock clearly visible through the denim now. Arthur's eyes were fixed on Merlin's mouth, the intensity of the stare making him feel hot all over, making him shift closer without even noticing.
"Yes," said Arthur, almost breathlessly, but with firm conviction. "Trust me, Merlin, I can be so charming, your pants would like, evaporate. But we're not going to. And it's not just because of the whole prison bitch thing. Or the warlock thing. You're an inmate, and this would be a horrid abuse of my father's position."
At first Merlin couldn't even process that, his brain stuck somewhere around the idea of not having pants on, flinging himself at Arthur and rubbing himself all over that lovely body, and all the ways he could spread Arthur out with the magic, gently, carefully, hold them both suspended mid-air to do just as he pleased, for as long as he pleased. He would have moaned out loud at the images in his head if Arthur's words hadn't snapped him back to reality, and he yelled, annoyed beyond coherency:
"What? What? And you're calling me an idiot? Have you been paying attention to anything at all? Your father has no power here! And he abandoned you! He gave you to his enemies, to play with! My mother would have grabbed me and run half way across the world, she would have killed anyone in her way, she would never have let something like this happen to me -"
"My father has responsibilities, you wouldn't understand," muttered Arthur distractedly, like he really had no idea what words his mouth was making. And then he surged forward, grabbed Merlin's head with both hands and smashed their lips together.
It was awkward and a little painful with the sudden brutality of it, and so impossibly sweet Merlin felt his eyes rolling back, shutting against his will. Arthur was growling into his mouth, scraping his lips with sharp teeth, forcing his tongue in, thrusting it against Merlin's to get more friction. Merlin let himself be pulled closer, slapped his both palms against the wall near Arthur's head and dove in, biting and licking those lips he'd been staring at for days, drinking in sweet scent of Arthur's breath, the slickness of his mouth, pressing closer and closer to get deeper in, as deep as he could. He was dimly aware that he was drooling all over Arthur's face like a dog, but couldn't stop, and couldn't stop humping his leg, either. Arthur's fingers tightened in his hair, and then their hold disappeared and he whined into the kiss, bereft. But next moment Arthur's large hands were grabbing at his arse, palming it hard, shifting him to stand between his spread legs so he could rub himself right against Arthur's thick, deliciously hard cock. He wanted it in his mouth so, so badly, but couldn't have broken the kiss if his life depended on it.
Arthur pulled back first and tried to say something, but his lips were wet, puffy where they were bitten and lusciously red. So Merlin fisted both hands in Arthur's soft, beautiful hair and kissed him again, harder and harder, licking greedily across his lips and sucking on his tongue as he ground down with his hips. He could feel it almost building now, the long, long awaited release, like his whole body was wound up tight for the last three days and was going to uncoil now, be free and weightless and float up to the sky on this wave of bliss that was rolling closer and closer.
Arthur's hands slipped down his trousers, gave his arse a quick hard squeeze, and slid to the front. Merlin moaned something wordlessly ecstatic and shifted his hips to rub his cock at Arthur's hands, every touch a jolt of sweet white heat, and tried to fumble with the buttons on Arthur's fly one-handed. As much as he wanted to have Arthur's cock twitching in his fist, getting harder and hotter as he squeezed down, he just couldn't let go of Arthur's hair. It felt like the best thing he'd ever touched, and he needed to hold Arthur's head in place to keep kissing him, forever if at all possible.
"Ugh, you're so useless," panted Arthur against his lips, grabbed his hips and lifted him so easily – before Merlin could gasp and object he was propped against the opposite wall, and Arthur was on his knees in front of him, tearing down his uniform trousers.
Merlin's mouth made a string of sounds that made no sense whatsoever even to himself. He pulled gently on Arthur's hair, his fingers still tangled in it. Arthur gave him a quick look, with just a flash of his white teeth between kiss-swollen lips, his strong warm hand already squeezing Merlin's cock by the root. He planted a wet sloppy kiss on Merlin's stomach and sucked the cock head into his mouth, lapping around it eagerly, hungrily, with lingering broad swipes of his tongue.
Merlin couldn't stay still, rocking on the balls of his feet to get in deeper, or maybe pull back to make this last longer, his body couldn't decide what it wanted more. Arthur pushed him into the wall with both arms and held him there, one hand spread on his chest under his shirt, thumbing at his nipple, the other clasped on his arse cheek, fingers kneading at it, dipping into his crack, stroking sensitive places there. His mouth slid down, lips tight and soft and tongue working incredible patterns against the veins on the underside, and pulled back up, sucking just hard enough to be almost too much, almost enough to make him come on that first stroke.
"Arthur, Arthur," Merlin panted, hands pawing uncontrollably all over Arthur's gorgeous face, touching at his lips where they were stretched tight around his cock. Arthur moaned loudly, sending the vibrations through his skin, and they rolled through his tightening balls, and all the way up to top of his head, making everything tingle. He'd dropped his hand from Merlin's chest, pushed his jeans down and was now working his own cock in his fist, in hard, fast pulls, and Merlin could barely see it, needed to touch it.
But before he could voice his protest Arthur gave his cock a long wet lick, took him back in, deeper now, and started to suck harder, faster, and it was happening, oh, it was there, and he threw his head back and screamed into the ceiling as his orgasm washed over him, long and hard, draining him utterly, leaving him shaking and sated.
When he'd looked back down again, still dizzy and bleary-eyed with it, Arthur had come already, was milking last drops out of his still hard cock, letting them puddle on the concrete floor. His face was pressed against Merlin's thigh, and his harsh panting breaths where searing Merlin's skin, and that was enough to make him start getting hard again – too soon, he was too spent, it was too much.
He kept stroking Arthur's hair, slowly coming down and feeling increasingly uneasy as his brain started thinking thoughts again. Eventually Arthur stirred and moved away, shifted on his knees to pull his jeans back up. He wouldn't look up, staring fixedly into the floor. He buttoned up his fly and still stayed there, sitting on his heels. Then he leaned sideways and lightly banged his head against the wall a few times.
"Yeah," said Merlin, nodding wholeheartedly.
"Oh, shut the fuck up."
"What, you started it."
"If you tell anyone about this..."
He didn't continue, obviously for the lack of any believable threat he could make.
"Funny thing, I was going to say that to you," said Merlin. "But then I thought: which of your many friends around here would you tell?"
Arthur raised his head to give him an evil stare, and he looked so good – dishevelled, flushed, his mouth swollen and red, his eyes clear and, despite the attempted glare, so very soft. Merlin knelt down and kissed him again, licked at bitter drops of his own come in the corners of Arthur's lips and down his chin. Arthur shut his eyes and sighed into his mouth, contently, straining for more as Merlin pulled back.
"I don't want them to know," Merlin said. "Yeah, they all expect me to fuck you, or think I am already, but I didn't want it to actually be true. Not like this, not here."
"Well, it's true," muttered Arthur against his lips. "Just have to deal with it."
"Do you really think my magic is hot?"
Arthur looked at him with a confused frown for a couple of seconds, and then burst into giggles. He slumped forward, draping himself over Merlin in a move that was not quite a cuddle but close enough, and carried on laughing into his shoulder.
"Weirdo," he said.
"Me? Arthur, you're easily the weirdest guy I've ever met. And I've met some pretty special people."
"Yeah, no doubt. Okay, go do the walk of shame, I need to shower. You've dribbled your man juice all over me."
As soon as Merlin walked into the cell Mordred took one look at him and started snickering.
"Not a word from you," Merlin warned. "And don't tell anyone. Please."
He made it to the bunk, his legs still wobbling unsteadily, and stretched on his back.
He felt incredibly good. Every bit of his body felt good. His head was clear and light, his every muscle and bone felt warm, strong, supple. His bruised lips tingled and his cock was the happiest cock on the planet, and he couldn't relax his face enough to stop smiling.
Mordred climbed over him, wrinkling his nose at the smell and still smirking, and settled between him and the wall, curling his back against Merlin's side.
Arthur came in after a while, carrying his wet button-down shirt in outstretched arms and shaking it out with extreme concentration. His white t-shirt was tight and clingy, and Merlin allowed himself to look his fill.
"Had to partially wash it," Arthur said, spreading the shirt over the bunk frame. "Do you have laundry detergent? I couldn't find any."
"There's soap."
"Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that."
He wouldn't quite look at Merlin, but once he was done hanging up the shirt he sat down on the floor and sprawled backwards, his shoulders propped on the edge of the bed, his head resting on the mattress next to Merlin's hip.
"Are you all right there?" Merlin asked, carefully dipping his fingertips into damp strands of Arthur's hair.
"Yeah, fine."
"Do you want a pillow to sit on?"
"No, I don't want a pillow, and you just gave that little pervert the wrong impression because it's not what happened, not that it's any of his business. Yes, Mordred, I know you're awake. Tell Brigit I said hi."
"Brigit is mildly pleased with your offerings," droned Mordred into the wall.
"Mildly?" yelped Arthur in indignation, and Mordred laughed out loud at that, happily and squeakily, startling Merlin a little. He's never heard him really laugh before.
"I would like him," Merlin heard him say. "If he wasn't who he is."
"It's not his fault."
"It wasn't my fault when they were going to kill me. Nobody cares if it's fair or not."
There was nothing to say to that. Merlin clandestinely stroked Arthur's hair, feeling it soften and dry under his fingers. Arthur turned his head and brushed his cheek against Merlin's knuckles, and then seemed lost in thought. As time passed his face slowly hardened, the small content smile turned into a scowl, and soon he was no longer lounging, sat there rigidly with his arms crossed on his chest.
"Arthur, stop revelling in your manly angst, it's really annoying. What we did – it doesn't have to happen again," said Merlin.
"No, I'm thinking about my father. I don't know how to talk to him now."
"I wouldn't tell him if I were you. He doesn't like me very much."
"Not that! I wasn't planning on telling my father – seriously, what's wrong with you? I meant, all the things I've found out here. He's been lying to me. I just don't understand."
"Don't tell him that either. This isn't a good time to make him mad, Arthur. You need him to keep fighting to get you out. Don't give him any excuses to back down."
Instead of arguing as usual Arthur just nodded glumly, and Merlin felt a small pang of guilt. To open Arthur's eyes to everything that had been done by Uther, make him doubt his father, even turn against him - that would be the ultimate revenge, really. But vengeance was a completely useless thing, he believed that even if he still wanted it sometimes, and he wasn't going to wreck Arthur's heart for something completely useless.
"I'm sure he'll do it soon," he said. "He might have sorted everything out already. You might be out today."
"Maybe."
It was possible. Merlin untangled his fingers from Arthur's hair – it had dried while he was petting it, and now was sticking up at odd angles, which looked far sexier than it had any right to. It would be good if Arthur could go home today. Nothing disastrous has happened yet, nothing any of them wouldn't recover from, and he already had the good memories to last him for years. This would be perfect timing.
"If I do get out, promise me something," said Arthur.
"Sure, anything."
"Fix this place up. Tell everyone to pull their fingers out and at least clear the rubble. And take the broken cell doors down, they're a hazard and they're rusting, you'll all get tetanus. And for fuck's sake, get rid of that red splat on the wall – and please don't tell me what it actually is. If you need anything, supplies, paint, whatever, make a list and I'll talk to my father. This place has been way under budget for a year now, you have the funds to install hot tubs on every floor if you want to."
"Um, why do you want me to do that?"
"Because it's horrible! It's filthy! No, I get it, this place was your prison and you all hate it. And a lot of you might have depression and PTSD with all that's happened, and some of those psychiatric diagnoses clearly aren't bogus. So yeah, I understand that you're not the most industrious bunch and you'd rather cast a warmth spell and sleep in it all day. But this needs to be done. You're keeping them here, you have to make this into a home."
"No, I told them not to touch it. Leave it all as it is. So we always remember what happened, what was done to us and what we did, and why we can never leave."
"And this is just another example of why you shouldn't be in charge of anything."
"I don't even have a comeback to that," admitted Merlin, trying and failing to get as insulted as he felt he should be. "Words are inadequate to describe what a prat you are. Tauren's right: you've been here three days and you already think you would've done everything better, that's just – such bollocks. I tried my best, considering I never wanted to be in charge! And why should I listen to you, anyway? You're a Pendragon, I should trust your advice even less than I do Edwin's."
"Because, the whole sanity issue aside, your Edwin studied medicine or whatever, and I almost have joint honours in Political Science and Economics. Way more relevant. So think of me as a professional consultant, and my professional advice is to paint the fucking walls already. This war will never be over until we all start moving on."
"I don't even think it can be over. Not after – everything."
"See," said Arthur. "This is exactly what I mean. You can't effectively manage several hundred crazy homicidal warlocks with a defeatist attitude like this."
He shifted against the bed and butted his head into Merlin's fingers, which Merlin took as a permission to pet him some more. This time he used just a tiniest frisson of magic, letting some of this odd, fluttery affection pooled in his chest pour out through his fingertips, sink back into Arthur's skin as a different kind of caress, barely felt, just enough to make it more memorable.
He didn't go down to the gates with Arthur. He stayed in the cell and waited for sunset with his eyes shut and his mind emptied. As the sun touched the horizon, making his magic swirl yearningly, he reached outside the building and felt for the barrier.
It wasn't any spell, just his raw power stretched over the fence like a bubble, grounding him to the compound. He was fused into it now, his magic rooted into the concrete and woven through the sky above them. He thought at first that it would quickly drain him, he wouldn't last few hours holding it up. But all the destructive spells the others threw at the barrier in the very beginning, when they tried to break out before the army would get here, didn't tear at him as he expected it to. They hurt and were terrifying to take head on without letting his magic flinch away and dissipate, but he did it, and as he absorbed each hit they fed right back into him as purest energy, strengthening his hold. Nowadays he barely felt it when someone attempted an attack.
Now it took no effort whatsoever to manipulate the barrier, no more than moving his eyelids. It was a familiar, almost pleasant ache in his mind, and soon he could believe he always had lived like this: his magic unravelled, strained and spread across half a square mile, seeping freely into the ley lines of the land. He was a part of the landscape, his body sometimes lost on his mental map because the whole of the Facility was him now, the physical frame for his power.
He knew from the start this fixed pulse of large-scale magic would do something to the land. And it was doing it, more with every day, warping the flow of elements around his protective cocoon in the ways far beyond his understanding. Only a few months later, just before Mordred had arrived, he realised what was happening to him and to everything around him. The earth had surrendered against the constant, foreign pull of his magic and let him in, took him in as something that belonged, and was now feeding him with its strength. He had created his own place of power. Here he was already almost invincible; with time he could become limitless.
He stroked his magic through the whole span of the barrier, enjoying the feel of its smooth, untarnished integrity. Then he took a breath and opened the gateway.
He held it for fifteen minutes, as always, confident that should something happen in that time the others would hold the defence till he was alerted. Mordred was watching him quietly: he loved looking at Merlin when he worked the barrier. As he reached to the outer boundary of himself he felt the earth tugging at his magic, just a whisper, like skin catching on skin – almost nothing. But Mordred could see it, and he liked watching.
Then the time was up, and he slowly slid the breach closed and waited.
He could ask Mordred if Arthur had left. Mordred was amazing at pinpointing people's locations by casting for their minds. But Merlin didn't want to let on how much this got to him, how desperate he was for an answer. He could wait and find out.
He wanted Arthur to leave. He wanted Arthur to go home, be safe and happy. It was incredibly, horribly selfish to wish him to stay.
When he heard the familiar footsteps outside the cell his whole face broke into a ridiculous, inappropriate grin, and he had to struggle to look sombre, nearly had to douse himself with a spell to do it.
"Sorry," he said with painstakingly emoted sadness as Arthur came back in and sat on the bunk, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"It's all right."
"Maybe tomorrow."
"Maybe."
They sat together in silence, no words good enough to match all their moods. Then Mordred got bored and went out for fresh food, and they all picked at it with the same lack of enthusiasm.
"There's just... no real hope," whispered Arthur eventually, very quietly.
He didn't know what to say. Arthur's eyes glistened wetly, just for a second, and then he was in motion again, pacing the room, stretching, surreptitiously wiping at his face and faking a yawn to hide it.
"So, tomorrow, what shall we do tomorrow," he said with his usual cheery arrogance. "I suggest we... What's that sound?"
"Where?"
"I don't know," he turned about, screwing up his face in a hilarious expression of puzzled concentration. "Don't you hear it? Sort of a bubbling hissing sound."
Merlin tried to listen harder, and only then noticed the familiar pattern among the background noise.
"That's just central heating," he said, and then remembered that they hadn’t had that for about eight months now. "Oh. Huh. I guess Tauren's fixed the boiler."
Arthur gaped at him for a moment, and then smiled smugly, about to say something extremely obnoxious. But instead he just started laughing, loudly, till he was out of breath, shaking his head and waving his hands in pure glee, and Merlin wasn't sure he understood what was so funny, but still couldn't help laughing along with him.
Next Part
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Date: 2010-08-22 12:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 01:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 03:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 03:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 04:07 am (UTC)Can't wait to see where this leads!
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Date: 2010-08-22 05:27 am (UTC)I absolutely LOVE this! I love Uther's POV and the evolution you see of Merlin from innocent boy to this kind of cold-hearted man, and why everyone fears him and all that. And I love Arthur's effect on the prisoners, and vice versa.
I think this is becoming one of my fave Merlin fics, and my fave AU, ever.
Loving this, and can't wait for more! ^+^
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Date: 2010-08-22 08:15 am (UTC)Everything, so good! As always, I await for your next update. :)
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Date: 2010-08-22 09:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 11:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 12:04 pm (UTC)I really like in this latest installment how epic Merlin is, and you've conveyed the scope of his magic just brilliantly.
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Date: 2010-08-22 08:27 pm (UTC)At first, it was like "Oh, this is okay." and then it was like the story suddenly grew a jet pack and took off at high sonic speed. THis is wonderful.
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Date: 2010-08-23 12:21 am (UTC)8/16? We can't already be halfway done ;_;
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Date: 2010-08-23 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-23 02:11 am (UTC)Loved that Tauren has fixed the boiler :-D
And the boys &hearts They are so smitten ! Aww.
I'm looking forward to more.
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Date: 2010-08-23 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-23 12:41 pm (UTC)Fantastic fic!
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Date: 2010-08-23 05:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-23 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-24 04:46 am (UTC)And yes, I've read everything and only commented now because this was recced to me today and I'm incredibly lazy when reading things at work :D
I'm greatly interested in this, thank you for sharing ^_^
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Date: 2010-08-24 04:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-25 10:41 am (UTC)At the same time, this is one epic plot! Cannot wait to find out how this all unravels.
(Oh, & I added you as a friend to stalk this fic better. I hope you don't mind.)
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Date: 2010-08-26 12:33 am (UTC)it is so typically ME for the post-sexytiems crack to be my favorite part of something this magnificent and huge.
but this is srsly breaking my brain.
the uber!powerful!evil-magic-messiah!Merlin,
the creepy!awesome!pervy!Mordred,
the.....the......the......EVERYTHING!!!!!!!
*dies*
because yes, if I had just done the dirty with Arthur Pendragon, my cock would be the happiest cock on the planet. and I don't even have a cock.no subject
Date: 2010-08-28 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-28 10:39 pm (UTC)