Arcane Asylum 11/16
Aug. 29th, 2010 10:09 pm![[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: minor character death
Summary: Modern AU. For the last twenty two years Uther Pendragon had been waging war on magic. When his son Arthur is framed for a magical crime he's sent to the prison for magic users. He's instantly targeted by the inmates, but mysterious top dog Merlin takes him under his wing. They form a bond, and Merlin decides to help Arthur clear his name.
Originally written for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kinkme_merlin
Notes: I could say the chapter title is a James Joyce reference but LOL like I ever read James Joyce. It's totally a Jonathan Creek reference.
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
devikun and ghost_guessed for betaing!
Word count: 7K for this part.
First part
Chapter index
Part 11: Warlocks Wake
He couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours, because the light bulb in the little cage on the ceiling was still on, and that meant it still wasn't night-time.
Three inmates were standing in front of him, backlit by that single bulb into becoming flat silhouettes. He couldn't see their faces, and probably didn't know them by name anyway. Merlin wasn't with them. That told him pretty much all he needed to know.
"Get up," said one of the men. "It's time."
Arthur slowly pulled his cold, cramped legs underneath him and stood up, holding onto the wall.
The men gestured toward the exit to the main cell block, back the way he came, and waited.
They were only his escort to the main event, whatever that was going to be. He could fight, but they'd just drag him there thrashing and flailing. At least if he walked by himself he'd still have some dignity.
The men didn't push him or hurry him along, letting him stagger forth at his own pace. They didn't meet a single person the whole way, and when they walked into the cell block it was completely empty.
It had never been empty before, and it had never been this quiet. Even at night this huge room was always buzzing with voices, snores, sounds of hundreds of people sharing enclosed space. Now the silence was so complete that it felt like physical pressure on his eardrums.
"What happened? Where is everyone?" Arthur asked, looking around for signs of struggle, fresh blood or scorch marks on the floor, any clue to what had happened here. "Did Merlin... what did he do?"
"Keep walking," one of the men said.
"Everyone's outside," said another.
Arthur rushed to the doors, stepped outside and froze on the spot.
Everyone was there. He'd never seen them all in one place like this, and hadn't truly realised how many people the Facility held. The yard was packed full. They all sat on the ground in circles arranged around a bonfire.
There was no wood, just a twisted metal frame made from several cell doors fused together. Upon it rested a log-like object about six feet long, tightly wrapped in bedsheets. It was burning without fuel, as if the sheets were doused in petrol, or magic.
Suddenly he knew what that thing in the sheets was.
"It's," he said out loud. "It's a funeral."
"Yeah, dickhead, it's a funeral," said one of the men behind him and shoved him forward a step. "That's what happens when you kill people."
Merlin was there too, in the front row, solemnly watching the corpse burn. Somehow Arthur's eyes immediately zeroed in on him in that sea of bodies in orange uniforms. Aglain was at his side, with the rest of the druids positioned close to them, and Aulfric and Muirden sat nearby as well. Whatever had happened in Arthur's absence, it looked like they'd made peace with each other.
Arthur expected to be led to the centre, to be made part of the ceremony somehow. He didn't really believe that druids practised human sacrifice; even Uther didn't truly believe that. There was never any evidence of that, but they could have been wrong.
Instead the men took him around the circle, by the edge of the yard, and led him to the gates.
"Don't touch the food," said one of them. "We're fasting till dawn."
"Yes, you better show some respect," said another. "He might have been a first grade cock, but he was one of us. So watch yourself."
They left him there and waded into the circle, seating themselves among the others. The moment they settled down the gates began to open, revealing his father and the guards waiting outside, and only then Arthur remembered. Sundown.
None of the inmates stirred from their vigil as the soldiers wheeled food vats in and out.
"What's going on?" Uther asked.
"There has been a death," Arthur said. "It's a funeral."
"Ah. Do you happen to know the name? I'll have to do the paperwork."
"They called him Val."
"Val, oh yes, the chap with the snakes?"
"Yes," Arthur said. "Father, you know I'm not guilty, right?"
"Of course, Arthur. There was never any doubt in my mind."
"I didn't kill those people. I need you to know that."
It seemed more important to draw that distinction now, when he really was a murderer. There was just one life he'd taken. Not seven.
"And I want you to know," he continued. "That you're still my hero, and I'm proud to be your son. Even though I know you've – I know you're – nevermind, that's not important. We've not always agreed, and I know how often I've disappointed you, but..."
"Arthur, is something wrong? Why are you saying this?"
"This death," he said with a shaky nod at the pyre, unable to hold his father's worried eyes any longer. "It wasn't natural causes. It was -"
"You need to remember who they are," said Uther urgently, cutting him off. "Even their magic aside, they're all criminals. They've rioted, plotted treason, resisted arrest, slaughtered innocent people just to terrorise us. Even if it hadn't been self-defence – and it was, regardless of technicalities – it was completely justified. You're not to blame."
He knew, somehow he knew. Arthur nodded, too choked up to speak.
"I told you to do what you needed to stay alive. I meant it, son. Whatever it takes."
And then his eyes strayed toward something over Arthur's shoulder, and his face froze.
Yes, that makes sense, Arthur thought, slowly turning around. They would wait till this moment. They would want his father to watch.
But it was only Merlin, walking toward them in his usual gawky strides. He wasn't even doing his glowing eyes trick. He threw Arthur a quick glance and a wan half-smile and stood by his side, so that their elbows almost touched.
"Sir," he said by the way of a greeting, self-consciously formal, as if Uther was his headmaster. Or, indeed, his boyfriend's father. Maybe that's what it was: Merlin was making an effort to get along. And he'd promised Merlin he'd come out to his father. And, the way things were going, this could turn out to be the last opportunity he'd have to let his father know who he really was.
Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand and laced their fingers together.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said quickly, to get it over with. "About me. And, well, me and Merlin."
He lifted his chin – he wasn't going to do this looking down, as if he was ashamed of himself. Merlin stared at him with huge, wide eyes, his lips parted, his hand completely lax in Arthur's hold. He was the only one who seemed surprised: all the soldiers tactfully looked away, and Uther was nodding, accepting and understanding. Unhappy, resigned, but accepting, and that was more than Arthur had ever dared to hope for.
"Father," he muttered, and then his voice failed him, stuck hopelessly in his throat. Which was just as well, because next words out of Uther's mouth were:
"Yes, whatever it takes, son, as I said. We never need to discuss this"
"It's nothing like that!" Arthur yelled, feeling his face flush. Merlin squeezed his hand, hard enough to hurt.
"No, I agree, we don't need to discuss this," Merlin said. "But there's something I need to ask you. Whatever happens next, I need you to know that I'm doing it for Arthur. If you don't see him here tomorrow, you'll have to trust me that he's safe. Any step you take might make things very dangerous for us. I need you to stay out of this and do nothing."
"How dare you," Uther hissed, drawing himself up. Arthur had seen him bully seasoned politicians into cardiac episodes like this; he'd never had the full force of his father's temper turned on him, and never wanted to.
"Remember the mercy I have shown you," said Merlin. "If nothing else, you owe me your trust."
"I owe you nothing."
"I've seen the box," Arthur said. "I think at the very least you owe him an apology."
"He's a warlock!" Uther yelled, his eyes flashing with real anger, and the first impulse to bow his head and apologise was unnervingly strong.
"He's human," Arthur said instead. "There are limits. We're supposed to be just."
"You – you have no idea what he's capable of."
"I trust Merlin with my life," Arthur said simply, and Uther almost flinched at that.
"What is he planning to do?" Uther asked after a long pause.
Arthur shrugged. He really had no clue. Merlin was probably planning something utterly stupid, and Arthur would have to talk him out of that and come up with a sane course of action by himself, but that wasn't the point right now.
Somehow his gesture mollified Uther the way the words couldn't. He sighed and nodded at Merlin without quite meeting his eyes.
"I'll keep him safe," Merlin said again and wandered off, leaving them to say their goodbyes.
When the gates closed, Arthur stood there for a time, and then walked to the edge of the circle and touched the shoulder of the nearest inmate.
The man looked up at him. He couldn't have been older than sixteen – round-eyed, with a constellation of acne on his forehead and a thin beard that had probably never been shaved.
"Hey," Arthur said quietly. "Sorry. Could you tell me - I don't know this stuff – will it be offensive if I join in?"
"No," the boy said. "Not for this part."
Arthur nodded and sat down, keeping a respectful distance from the others.
The dusk was gathering now, and there was an autumn-cold bite to the breeze. Arthur hugged his knees to his chest and stared into the ground past the dusty toes of his shoes. The vigil was silent; there were no chants or prayers, and everyone seemed deep in their own thoughts.
He probably could have done it differently. At the time killing Val seemed the only way to defuse the situation, but now he wondered if he'd done it because he wanted to.
It had been easy to talk about peace, treaties and negotiations when he was snuggled in Merlin's lap, looking up into his kind, open face. Then he was thinking about all the people like Merlin, caught up in this fight just because they were born into it. But there were others, people like Tauren and Muirden, and after decades of hostilities it was those people, warmongers and terrorists, who would be seen as natural leaders by the magic community. To end the war they might have to negotiate with those. To break the cycle of vengeance compromises would have to be made; a lot of horrible things would have to be forgiven. If he couldn't find the strength to forgive what was done to him and move on, he couldn't expect that of others.
And maybe he could. Maybe one day he'd sit at the negotiation table with the people who held him down while Val plundered his body, and with those who stood and watched, and with those who didn't even care enough to watch, and he'd talk with them about peace. He'd probably be able to do it, because he'd already had his fill of revenge. Because Val wouldn't be there.
It wasn't like him, this wasn't what he used to believe in. He'd only been here for a week – he couldn't imagine what he would become after years of living like this. And most of the inmates in the Facility had grown up like this: hunted, hated, never safe. Merlin grew up like this.
The courtyard was getting dark when he was nudged in the side. It was the same boy he'd spoken to earlier.
"You have to go inside," the boy said. "This part is private."
The crowd had thinned considerably – there were less than a hundred left, and they were busily arranging themselves in a tighter circle around the pyre. The fire had gone out; the druids were doing something to the pyre and the remains, preparing for the next stage of the ritual.
He headed in and only when he was turning the corner to their cell he remembered that it was no longer his. He'd rejected Merlin's protection, he said he'd manage alone. But it seemed like there'd been some new development, and they probably needed to talk about that.
He knew he was fishing for an excuse to see Merlin. He missed him already, his smile, his fluffy eyelashes, his stupid ears, and he needed him right now so badly, just to be around. It was pathetic on many levels, and he was going to get a hold of himself and -
"If you want my opinion, Emrys," came a voice from their cell. "I think the Pendragon boy was given to us as a Sacred King."
"Aglain, Merlin is unfamiliar with this lore," said someone else, and this time Arthur recognised the voice – it was Muirden. "Merlin, sacred in this context means sacrificial."
"That makes no sense," said Merlin. "First, since when do druids practice human sacrifice? I thought it was all propaganda."
"There are very few such rituals," said Aglain. "This one is very old and powerful. By offering the blood of a king back to the earth it's possible to release very potent magic. This ritual can revive barren lands, purge a plague, turn the tide of the war. It could change our world as we know it."
"Still makes no sense. How's Arthur a king? He's just a student."
"He's of the bloodline. He's explicitly consented to sacrifice himself; all the requirements have been met."
"Merlin's right," said Tauren's voice. Arthur was beginning to wonder how many were there and how they all squeezed into that cell. "Sorry, Aglain, this is nonsense. Pendragon's bloodline is useless for the purposes of that ritual. Uther was our jailer and our enemy; he might have controlled our lives, but he never had our fealty. The difference is crucial."
"Well, whoever arranged for him to be here might have been flawed in their reasoning," said Aglain a little gruffly.
"True, true," agreed Muirden cheerfully. "Sadly, age and power don't always go hand in hand with intelligence."
"Edwin, my boy," said the same voice that called Merlin a half-sidhe before. Now Arthur was certain that was Sophia's father. "I know you think yourself very clever. But it doesn't matter how many flashy tricks you master. Until you learn proper respect for your elders you can never become one with the Old Religion. You'll always be a petulant child who was cut off from the source of our true power before you could scratch the surface."
"Yes, yes, you're very old, Aulfric, we're all suitably impressed," Muirden said. "I still think your plan will backfire quite spectacularly."
"We have to do this, Edwin," said Merlin. "Arthur is important. I believe in him. I know he seems like a right prick, but I’ve got to know him a little, and he's - he's amazing. He's brave, and noble, and kind, he'll never give up, he'll always do what's right..."
"Merlin, please, spare us, we all know you're saying this because you're completely infatuated with that boy."
"No, Edwin, I'm completely – I like him because that's all true. Because of who he is. And yes, sure, he's got an arse to die for, and the loveliest cock I've ever seen, but that's not -"
"You know he's listening outside, don't you?" asked Muirden sweetly.
Merlin didn't say anything, but a few other voices started snickering quietly. Arthur gritted his teeth and walked into the cell.
Tauren was in their only chair, and Aglain sat cross-legged on the floor by the wall. Aulfric was perched at the foot of the bunk, with Merlin curled up at the other end. Muirden was lounging on the top bunk, where Arthur slept, which was downright infuriating.
Merlin was wearing normal clothes: cheap old jeans and several layers of blue shirts with clashing patterns. He was hugging to his chest something that looked like two bundled up coats, and there was a neckerchief wound sloppily around his neck. If that was a fashion statement, it was stating something rather lame.
Still, just seeing him out of the prison uniforms was an unexpected treat. He looked so good; his eyes were brighter and bluer, the right hues turned his complexion from pasty to porcelain, and Arthur ached to touch him.
"Colour suits you," Arthur said casually, keeping it cool. "Did you magic those up?"
"These are my clothes," Merlin said. "I got them from the storage. This is for you."
He pulled out one of the coats and handed it to Arthur. It was a lavender blue duffel coat, almost new and quite nice, except for the whole duffel coat business.
"Okay, what's going on?" Arthur asked.
"We're leaving. You and me are going to find the person who framed you, and we're going to set things right."
"You know who did it?"
"Well, no, we don't. But Aulfric has contacts, he gave me a name and a place."
"My friend is both wise and powerful," Aulfric said pompously. "If he doesn't have the information yet, he'll know how to obtain it."
"Yes, so we'll find whoever sent you here, and we'll ask them to undo it. Because so far it’s only brought us conflict and trouble, and we'll explain that. They wouldn't talk to you, of course, but they'll talk to me. I'll make them understand."
"Perhaps there was some unforeseen trouble," Aulfric nodded. "Perhaps things didn't go to plan. Our best option is to confer with whoever set this in motion and learn what the intention was."
"You can't stay here, Arthur," said Merlin. "It won't end well for anyone. It's time we did something."
Arthur folded the coat, trying to organise his thoughts. Just the idea of freedom, safety, possible resolution to this whole mess – he couldn't think straight. He wanted to get out, he needed to be out, and it was happening. Merlin would get him out.
"Wait," he said. "What about the barrier? Can you maintain it if you leave?"
"No."
"Well, then, it's a stupid plan! Haven't you thought about that? We have a truce now, and without the barrier - "
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," purred Muirden.
"Well, somebody has to! What will happen when people start running? The remote operation will be considered a failure, the army will storm the place and kill anyone who stays, and with hundreds of known warlocks on the loose there will be a national emergency, martial law, you can't even imagine! We can't do this. It's too dangerous for everyone, we need to find another way."
There was a long pause. The warlocks still looked slightly through him, as they've always done: like he was something not quite sentient, not worth making eye contact with. But now there was some new contemplative quality to their sideways stares. Merlin wouldn't look at Arthur either, too busy staring at the others with an inexplicably smug smile.
"I think Merlin has a point," said Tauren. "Maybe we're too old and too bitter to still believe. You know, in one of the new religions there is a story about a man who delivered his people from slavery. He led them to safety, and when they reached their new home, he couldn't enter it. He had too much blood on his hands and too much pain in his heart to live in this new free world, even though he fought and bled for it. Perhaps that's how it must be: we played our parts, for better or worse, and it's time to step aside. It's all up to the kids now."
"How dreadfully maudlin," said Muirden with a theatrical yawn. "Well, shall we get on with this?"
"Yes, it's almost time," Aglain nodded, and they all headed out.
"It'll be okay," said Merlin once they were alone in the cell. "I spoke with everyone before the burial. I told them what you told me – about ending the war. I asked them to let me help you, and for them to stay here till I come back, and they all agreed."
"Of course they did. You said it yourself, they're just too afraid to argue with you. Once you're gone, who knows what they'd do! And Aulfric – you know, he tried to kill me last year. He was inciting them against you just a few hours ago – why would he be so helpful now? It's a setup, it has to be."
"It's the only plan we have," Merlin got up and shrugged on the enormous parka he'd been holding. "Come on. No, wait," he quickly kissed Arthur's lips, and pulled back resolutely. "Okay, let's do this."
The cell block was teeming with people. They were everywhere – standing by the walls, leaning over the railing on the upper levels, waiting in the walkways as they went past. Most of them gave Merlin a wave or a nod as he walked by, and he nodded and smiled in return.
"I won't be long," he kept saying.
"Bring us some fish and chips!" shouted someone, and that started a whole chorus of requests, ranging from beer and curry to a squad of hookers.
"Magic some up, slackers," Merlin giggled and led Arthur up onto the roof.
The sky was pitch black, but the roof was brightly lit by eerie glowing spheres that were scattered about on the concrete. Arthur stepped around them carefully, just in case. Muirden, Aulfric and a few others were fussing together over a spot by the northern edge, drawing complicated lines with coloured chalks. Aglain was directing them, somehow aligning their doodles with the position of the Moon in the sky. Next to them Tauren was reading something from a notebook, tracing the lines with a pencil and muttering to himself.
"Okay, we worked out the technical details back in my room," Merlin said. "This part is slightly tricky. The thing about the barrier is that I didn't really think it all through when I put it up. So over time I sort of, uh, fused myself into this location. I'm more or less stuck here. Walking away would be like turning myself inside out."
"I'm not even surprised," Arthur sighed. "That is just so you, Merlin."
"You don't understand how complicated it is to – oh, never mind, why do I bother explaining these things to you? It's like teaching nursery school sometimes."
"Fine, fine, so how are we getting around that?"
"I have to sever my connection to the land. Which I can do, but then there will be a bit of a rift where the connection was and it will partially go through me, and it's not a good thing."
"I didn't think I could like this whole plan any less, but there you go. But this thing they're drawing, is it going to protect you?"
"In a way, yeah. It will teleport us about forty miles East from here. That should give me enough distance to lessen the effects. Also that way we won’t have to sneak past the perimeter, which is great because I might be, um, a bit disoriented after I do this. I won't be up to much for a while."
"Right. Apart from disorientation, what sort of effects are we talking?"
"Hard to tell," said Merlin shortly. "Edwin, is your spell ready?"
"Tauren's just checking my maths," Muirden replied, wiping chalk off his palms.
"All looks good," nodded Tauren. "This is very clever, Edwin, I must say."
"Why, thank you. Some of my best work. Merlin, if you please?"
Merlin took the notebook from Tauren and flipped back to the first page.
"I don't think this will hold very well, even if I cast it," he said, skimming the writings.
"This is why we call it a fake barrier spell," said Muirden testily. "It can withstand a few shell blasts. If that doesn't convince the invaders that our impenetrable defences are still in place, then yes, gentlemen, we're screwed."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," sighed Tauren. "I'll rig it up to the power grid later. That'll give us a boost."
Merlin nodded and began reading from the notebook out loud, slowly, pausing between what could be sentences. In the sky above them something shimmered, as if moonlight was caught on a giant metal cobweb. As Merlin continued reading the spell, the shimmer changed colour, rippled in radiating waves, and disappeared.
"Excellent work, Merlin, thank you!" cheered Muirden, clapping. "Really, it's such a pity. What a pointless waste of a great talent."
"Edwin, enough," said Merlin. "I don't want to hear any more of that. Arthur, let's..."
The door to the roof slowly creaked open. Mordred shuffled through, looking tinier than ever, shivering, his face screwed up in misery.
"Don't," he said. "Emrys, don't."
"Mordred," groaned Merlin. "We talked about this. Go back to your room, please."
Mordred pushed off the doorpost, ran across the roof and caught Merlin's arm.
"Emrys!" he yelled, clinging tight, hanging on with all his weight. Merlin frowned and yanked his hand free, and the boy stumbled backward and started crying, choking on sobs, tears streaming freely down his face.
Arthur lunged forward, knelt in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. Mordred felt so small and fragile underneath the bulky clothes: tiny sharp bones, thin arms, all of him quaking with the force of his weeping.
"Don't cry, Mordred," he said. The boy wailed louder and tried to break free, but stopped struggling right away. Crying robbed him of all breath, he just didn't have the strength. "He'll come back. I promise you. I won't let anything happen to him. He'll be back. Look..."
He let go of Mordred and pulled his signet ring off his finger.
He hadn't taken it off in six years, he hardly ever remembered he was wearing it. For a second he thought it wouldn't come off, but eventually he managed to wrench it past the knuckle and pressed it into Mordred's cold hand:
"This is very important to me. My dad gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. Look, this is my family crest. I'd never part with it if I didn't know I'd get it back. Keep hold of it till Merlin returns. Then you'll give it back to me, when I come to visit."
Mordred stopped crying. He stared down at the ring and tightly closed his fist around it. Then he gave Arthur a very odd grin, turned on his heel and sprinted to the exit.
"Not good," muttered Merlin under his breath and walked to the centre on the chalk drawing.
"Quite amusingly ironic, however," said Tauren glumly. "Pendragon, you need to be standing behind Merlin."
Arthur picked up the duffel coat and put it on. He wasn't keen on wearing some inmate's cast-offs, but the nights were getting cold; he was pretty chilly already.
"Whose is this, anyway?" he asked, joining Merlin inside the central circle of the diagram.
"I don't know, I just grabbed it from the storage. I thought the hood might be handy for travelling," Merlin said.
"It's mine, actually," chirped Muirden. "I got it from Harrods. Oh, don't cringe like that, sweet prince. It's not the only thing of mine you're currently borrowing."
"Edwin," said Merlin wearily. "Shut up. Don't listen to him, Arthur, it's not even his size."
The warlocks surrounded the drawing, each of them taking position at one of the smaller circles evenly spaced over the perimeter of the drawing.
"Keep your limbs inside the line at all times," Tauren said. "Pendragon, you'll have to hold Merlin still. He'll be..."
"Disoriented, I know," Arthur nodded and awkwardly curled an arm around Merlin's waist.
"Not like that. Pin his arms. Don't let his body sway, whatever happens."
Arthur pulled Merlin closer and wrapped both arms around his chest, trapping his elbows between their bodies.
"All right, I'm doing it," said Merlin. He inhaled deeply – Arthur felt his narrow back moving against his chest as his lungs expanded – and started slowly breathing out. Almost immediately his whole body tensed, locked rigid; he moaned and attempted to double over, but Arthur held him tight.
"The faster you break the link, the better," Aglain said. Merlin grunted and pushed upright for a second, and then convulsed violently, over and over, as if he was being tasered, his throat spasming around a ragged scream. The sky overhead lit up again, this time with bright, angry yellow glow; Arthur didn't dare to look up, concentrating on keeping Merlin clear of the edges of the circle.
"Hold him still!" the warlocks were yelling. "He's almost there – be ready, everyone!"
The chalk lines around their feet began to glow, blurring and changing colours. Merlin lost his footing and was hanging heavily in Arthur's arms, still thrashing wildly and making awful pained sounds.
"Is this normal?" Arthur cried, searching the warlocks' faces. "Is he okay?"
"Keep him still!" yelled a few voices at once.
"Have faith!" Aglain was bellowing. Next to him Muirden was watching them, stone-faced, with something like regret in his eyes.
Merlin arched backwards and screamed. It was a sound of a man in complete agony, and all Arthur could do was hold him upright, with his arms pinned, and bear with it – he didn't know how much more of this he could take.
"There is no possible way he can survive this," said Muirden, and Arthur nearly lost his hold on Merlin. He was about to yell, protest, demand for the spells to be aborted, but just then Merlin stopped flailing in his arms and the sky went black.
"Now!" he heard someone scream, and all the warlocks went down on one knee and slammed their palms into the glowing symbols. The drawing exploded upwards, every line turning into a blade of white light.
It took him some seconds to regain vision, and a few more to figure out that he was lying on his side, with his arms still locked around Merlin's body. He let go; Merlin was still, not screaming, not shaking. The pain must have stopped.
They were in a grazing field, lying on short cool grass. There was a dark copse nearby, and a neatly trimmed line of bushes further off separated the field from a country lane, or from another field. There was a string of pale lights far away, a village road, perhaps, and a clump of dark shapes at the far edge of the field – a farm, or maybe a caravan park, he couldn't tell. The landscape was flat, stretched luxuriously in every direction for countless miles, the dark sky shading delicately into lighter blue where it sloped toward the horizon. The moon was peeking through scant clouds, and everything under it was still and perfect, outlined in the silvery light. Arthur could see every branch on those trees, every blade and leaf of the grass, and the splendour of it all was breathtaking, literally so, making his throat so tight he nearly sobbed aloud.
"England is so beautiful," he muttered, pushing himself upright. "Merlin, look."
Merlin was quietly staring upwards with his eyes wide-open, unblinking. His face, bleached by the moonlight, was smooth and expressionless and far too still.
Arthur shook him by the shoulder. Merlin's head rolled on the grass limply, and still he didn't blink.
"Merlin!" Arthur yelled in his face, grabbing for his thin wrists. He pressed his fingers in the dips between bones and couldn't feel anything. But he was panicking, he was flustered. He must have been doing it wrong. He pushed the parka out of the way and flattened his ear against Merlin's chest, at the same time groping with his hand between Merlin's collarbones, at the sides of his neck, searching for the pulse.
There was nothing; no breathing, no heartbeat. Not a single sound or movement.
"Merlin, Merlin, don't, please," Arthur muttered, not even thinking about it. He couldn't keep his hands still, they were shaking on Merlin's skin, he was shaking all over. His vision was blurry, and he couldn't focus his eyes. It wasn't true, it couldn't be happening, it couldn't be, he couldn't -
He shoved a side of his hand in his mouth and bit down, not feeling any pain, till everything became slightly clearer.
"CPR," he said to himself.
He made sure Merlin was flat on his back, braced his hands in the right position and pushed.
"One, camera, two, camera, three, camera, four," he counted out loud. Merlin's chest didn't feel solid enough, like he could easily break all his ribs if he pushed too hard, but he knew he had to exact force for this to work. He prised Merlin's jaw open, sealed their mouths together and exhaled long and hard down Merlin's throat.
Merlin winced and coughed, and that was entirely disgusting. Arthur tasted bile and blood, but still couldn't pull back for a second, kissing Merlin's quivering lips fiercely. Then he gathered him into his arms and crushed him close, just to feel him breathe.
"You stupid jerk, your heart had stopped," he hissed into Merlin's ear. "How could you – I'm going to kill you once you're better. You knew this could happen. You knew and you did it, fuck, Merlin, I hate you so much. So very much."
Merlin sobbed weakly against him, his fingers curled tight around Arthur's arms.
"I can't use my magic," he mumbled. "Can't control it, it's all torn up. It hurts."
"Just hold on, it'll be okay. Look, I think there's a caravan park there. There'll be a guard, and he'll have a phone. I'll get you an ambulance. Just hold on a few more minutes."
"They can't help me," moaned Merlin through gritted teeth.
"They can do something! Painkillers, at least! Warm bed, crash cart on standby..."
"I'm in the system. They'll know who I am."
"Yes, but I'd much rather have you arrested than dead."
"They won't arrest me the second time," said Merlin, pulling back from the embrace. His face was streaked with tears, and he looked so ill, in so much pain. "They're supposed to shoot fugitives on sight. I'm helpless right now; they'll kill me."
"Right, of course," Arthur said. Now he remembered, and couldn't believe he'd forgotten and let Merlin go on the run and take this risk. But, considering the bigger picture, this wasn't the time to squabble over that. "Right. What can I do? What do you need?"
"I'll be fine. If I keep my magic still, it will heal up eventually. I just need to rest a little."
He stretched out where he lay, breathing slowly, with his both hands fisted tight in the grass, trying to relax into the pain. He managed that for a few seconds, steadily getting paler with each breath, and then flopped to the side and retched painfully, over and over. Nothing came up, apart from a few wispy strands of white glow that sluggishly rolled off his lips and melted into the air.
"See, better already," he muttered breathlessly and passed out, with his face pressed into the clover leaves.
He didn't stir for over an hour, and when he did his first words were:
"Cup of tea."
Arthur snorted with relief and amusement. He sat on the edge of the bed, cradled Merlin's head and raised the steaming mug to his lips.
"Cup of tea," cooed Merlin, blinking sleepily and taking small sips. "We meet again. You're delicious."
"It's only naff teabags," Arthur said. "I ripped them up though, so at least it's properly infused."
He'd been trying not to look at Merlin too much while he was unconscious, so he wouldn't freak himself out. He just hovered close and checked Merlin's pulse and breathing every few minutes. As he had hoped, waking up instantly made Merlin look a lot better. Some colour returned to his face. His eyes were still sunken and ringed with deep shadows, but they were open and bright and glittering with the simple pleasure of drinking cheap tea black, no sugar, and somehow finding it lovely.
Merlin drained the mug, shifted in Arthur's arms and looked around: at the wood-panelled walls, the electric kettle rumbling on the counter by the window, cheery bed linens printed all over with happy lambs.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"In a caravan."
"What?"
"A caravan, Merlin. I don't know where your culture shock is coming from. Caravanning is a traditional past-time of your people."
"Of... warlocks?" Merlin asked, looking incredibly daft. The hair on the back of his head was standing up in a small adorable tuft, which was just completing the picture.
"Working class."
"You know, Arthur, when you stand for MP, make sure you campaign on issues, not personality, because as a person you're – oh fuck, Arthur, you broke into somebody's caravan!"
"I knew you'd catch up eventually. Another cup of tea?"
"We can't stay here, it's too dangerous," Merlin said, furiously trying to wriggle out of the blankets. Arthur had tucked him in perhaps a little too thoroughly. "Come on. We'll find a barn or something."
"Merlin, for all I know you just had a heart attack. You're not sleeping in a barn. It's all right, relax, I checked everything. The park is empty, these blinds are solid, there are no cameras and the only guard is about a hundred and ten and fast asleep. We'll be out of here at the first light. Just rest for now."
He fetched the can of soup he'd been reheating over and over for the last half an hour and handed Merlin a spoon.
"Try to eat. Tell me if you're going to be sick, I'll get you a bowl."
"How did we even," Merlin asked between swallowing cautious spoonfuls. "Did you carry me here?"
"Yeah, you weigh about as much as a labradoodle, it was hardly a feat of strength."
"And you undressed me," commented Merlin, peeking under the blankets.
"Just so you're comfortable. And I didn't undress you, technically, I left your underwear on. I prefer if people are conscious and helpful when I strip them naked."
Merlin smiled, handed him back the half-eaten soup and reclined into the pillows.
"You're kind of enjoying this, aren't you," he said.
"Not being in prison? Kind of loving every second of it, yes."
"No, being in charge. Looking after me," he said with a sly sidelong glance, slow flutter of his eyelashes, shadows of dimples around his smile. By now Arthur knew him well enough to recognise this coy routine as premeditated, shameless flirting, but it still didn't fail to affect him.
"I think we both agree I'm better at it than you are," he said a little unsteadily.
"Pillock," sighed Merlin affectionately. "Sleep with me. I'll get cold alone."
Arthur switched the lights off, stripped and climbed into the bed, slid under the blankets to where the sheets were warm from Merlin's body. The bed was narrow, hardly wider than a prison bunk; while he was still figuring out where to tuck his arms and point his knees, Merlin turned just a little and slotted himself against him perfectly, snugly, spooning them together. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist, marvelling at how simple the solution was.
They lay there, breathing in the dark, warming up against each other.
"I might be like this for a while," Merlin said. "Pretty much useless."
"I'm sure I'll find a use for you," said Arthur, brushing his lips over the fine skin on the back of his neck. Merlin tasted of illness and sour sweat, but that only made Arthur mouth at him harder, the knowledge that Merlin was alive, didn't die, suddenly bright and new in his mind.
"Mmm," Merlin wriggled his skinny hips, grinding against Arthur's crotch. "Do you want to? We haven't yet..."
"No," said Arthur firmly. "You need to rest."
"C'mon," Merlin pushed down his boxers, and Arthur's hardening cock pressed against smooth bare skin of his backside. "You can, just like this, just..."
"Don't even."
"Yeah, maybe we shouldn't," Merlin drawled, still undulating softly against him. "We already broke into these people's caravan, ate their food. Staining their sheets would be..."
He shifted and lifted his arse, and Arthur's cock slid between his legs, nested snugly in the warm soft place there. It was almost impossible not to thrust into that tightness, but Arthur stoically managed, kept almost still, as Merlin pressed his thighs together, giving him gentle teasing squeezes.
Arthur just started to lose his resolve, panting into Merlin's neck and palming the sharp angles of his hipbones, when Merlin stilled and said:
"I'm worried about Mordred."
"Ahh. I can't believe that little shit is still cockblocking me even when he's not here."
"I wish you hadn't given him your ring."
"He's a small kid. We left him there all alone. He needs something to hold on to."
"Now he can track you anywhere."
"That's good. He can find us if he needs us."
"Arthur, you have no idea what he's capable of."
"Now you sound like my father," Arthur said viciously. "Are you trying to give me an erectile dysfunction?"
Merlin laughed bitterly and kicked him in the shin.
"I don't know how you do this," he said after a long silence. "How can you trust us? Even me?"
"Same way you trust me, I guess."
"That's different. I wasn't raised in a temple. None of my friends had magic, I knew they were still good people. But when you were growing up, to you anyone with magic was always just the monster at the end of this police report."
"No, that's where you're wrong, actually. You're not the first one with magic whom I cared about."
"Oh," said Merlin in a small voice. His whole body relaxed a little, shifted closer, melting into Arthur's. "I had no idea. Tell me about them?"
"Hm. Maybe someday. I don't want to dredge that up right now."
"Are they alive?"
"I don't know."
Merlin nodded sadly, fussed with his pillow a little and soon was breathing steadily and deeply, heavy and warm in Arthur's arms. With his eyes closed Arthur could almost imagine that they weren't squatting in a shitty mobile home in a field somewhere. They could be in Mayfair, in his room, in his own bed, with the city slowly settling down for the night around them. They could've been on a date, could have had a great dinner and watched a horrible movie together, and now Merlin was spending the night.
One day, maybe, that could really happen. It certainly was something worth working towards.
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: minor character death
Summary: Modern AU. For the last twenty two years Uther Pendragon had been waging war on magic. When his son Arthur is framed for a magical crime he's sent to the prison for magic users. He's instantly targeted by the inmates, but mysterious top dog Merlin takes him under his wing. They form a bond, and Merlin decides to help Arthur clear his name.
Originally written for this prompt at
kinkme_merlinNotes: I could say the chapter title is a James Joyce reference but LOL like I ever read James Joyce. It's totally a Jonathan Creek reference.
Many thanks to
devikun and ghost_guessed for betaing!Word count: 7K for this part.
First part
Chapter index
Part 11: Warlocks Wake
He couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours, because the light bulb in the little cage on the ceiling was still on, and that meant it still wasn't night-time.
Three inmates were standing in front of him, backlit by that single bulb into becoming flat silhouettes. He couldn't see their faces, and probably didn't know them by name anyway. Merlin wasn't with them. That told him pretty much all he needed to know.
"Get up," said one of the men. "It's time."
Arthur slowly pulled his cold, cramped legs underneath him and stood up, holding onto the wall.
The men gestured toward the exit to the main cell block, back the way he came, and waited.
They were only his escort to the main event, whatever that was going to be. He could fight, but they'd just drag him there thrashing and flailing. At least if he walked by himself he'd still have some dignity.
The men didn't push him or hurry him along, letting him stagger forth at his own pace. They didn't meet a single person the whole way, and when they walked into the cell block it was completely empty.
It had never been empty before, and it had never been this quiet. Even at night this huge room was always buzzing with voices, snores, sounds of hundreds of people sharing enclosed space. Now the silence was so complete that it felt like physical pressure on his eardrums.
"What happened? Where is everyone?" Arthur asked, looking around for signs of struggle, fresh blood or scorch marks on the floor, any clue to what had happened here. "Did Merlin... what did he do?"
"Keep walking," one of the men said.
"Everyone's outside," said another.
Arthur rushed to the doors, stepped outside and froze on the spot.
Everyone was there. He'd never seen them all in one place like this, and hadn't truly realised how many people the Facility held. The yard was packed full. They all sat on the ground in circles arranged around a bonfire.
There was no wood, just a twisted metal frame made from several cell doors fused together. Upon it rested a log-like object about six feet long, tightly wrapped in bedsheets. It was burning without fuel, as if the sheets were doused in petrol, or magic.
Suddenly he knew what that thing in the sheets was.
"It's," he said out loud. "It's a funeral."
"Yeah, dickhead, it's a funeral," said one of the men behind him and shoved him forward a step. "That's what happens when you kill people."
Merlin was there too, in the front row, solemnly watching the corpse burn. Somehow Arthur's eyes immediately zeroed in on him in that sea of bodies in orange uniforms. Aglain was at his side, with the rest of the druids positioned close to them, and Aulfric and Muirden sat nearby as well. Whatever had happened in Arthur's absence, it looked like they'd made peace with each other.
Arthur expected to be led to the centre, to be made part of the ceremony somehow. He didn't really believe that druids practised human sacrifice; even Uther didn't truly believe that. There was never any evidence of that, but they could have been wrong.
Instead the men took him around the circle, by the edge of the yard, and led him to the gates.
"Don't touch the food," said one of them. "We're fasting till dawn."
"Yes, you better show some respect," said another. "He might have been a first grade cock, but he was one of us. So watch yourself."
They left him there and waded into the circle, seating themselves among the others. The moment they settled down the gates began to open, revealing his father and the guards waiting outside, and only then Arthur remembered. Sundown.
None of the inmates stirred from their vigil as the soldiers wheeled food vats in and out.
"What's going on?" Uther asked.
"There has been a death," Arthur said. "It's a funeral."
"Ah. Do you happen to know the name? I'll have to do the paperwork."
"They called him Val."
"Val, oh yes, the chap with the snakes?"
"Yes," Arthur said. "Father, you know I'm not guilty, right?"
"Of course, Arthur. There was never any doubt in my mind."
"I didn't kill those people. I need you to know that."
It seemed more important to draw that distinction now, when he really was a murderer. There was just one life he'd taken. Not seven.
"And I want you to know," he continued. "That you're still my hero, and I'm proud to be your son. Even though I know you've – I know you're – nevermind, that's not important. We've not always agreed, and I know how often I've disappointed you, but..."
"Arthur, is something wrong? Why are you saying this?"
"This death," he said with a shaky nod at the pyre, unable to hold his father's worried eyes any longer. "It wasn't natural causes. It was -"
"You need to remember who they are," said Uther urgently, cutting him off. "Even their magic aside, they're all criminals. They've rioted, plotted treason, resisted arrest, slaughtered innocent people just to terrorise us. Even if it hadn't been self-defence – and it was, regardless of technicalities – it was completely justified. You're not to blame."
He knew, somehow he knew. Arthur nodded, too choked up to speak.
"I told you to do what you needed to stay alive. I meant it, son. Whatever it takes."
And then his eyes strayed toward something over Arthur's shoulder, and his face froze.
Yes, that makes sense, Arthur thought, slowly turning around. They would wait till this moment. They would want his father to watch.
But it was only Merlin, walking toward them in his usual gawky strides. He wasn't even doing his glowing eyes trick. He threw Arthur a quick glance and a wan half-smile and stood by his side, so that their elbows almost touched.
"Sir," he said by the way of a greeting, self-consciously formal, as if Uther was his headmaster. Or, indeed, his boyfriend's father. Maybe that's what it was: Merlin was making an effort to get along. And he'd promised Merlin he'd come out to his father. And, the way things were going, this could turn out to be the last opportunity he'd have to let his father know who he really was.
Arthur grabbed Merlin's hand and laced their fingers together.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said quickly, to get it over with. "About me. And, well, me and Merlin."
He lifted his chin – he wasn't going to do this looking down, as if he was ashamed of himself. Merlin stared at him with huge, wide eyes, his lips parted, his hand completely lax in Arthur's hold. He was the only one who seemed surprised: all the soldiers tactfully looked away, and Uther was nodding, accepting and understanding. Unhappy, resigned, but accepting, and that was more than Arthur had ever dared to hope for.
"Father," he muttered, and then his voice failed him, stuck hopelessly in his throat. Which was just as well, because next words out of Uther's mouth were:
"Yes, whatever it takes, son, as I said. We never need to discuss this"
"It's nothing like that!" Arthur yelled, feeling his face flush. Merlin squeezed his hand, hard enough to hurt.
"No, I agree, we don't need to discuss this," Merlin said. "But there's something I need to ask you. Whatever happens next, I need you to know that I'm doing it for Arthur. If you don't see him here tomorrow, you'll have to trust me that he's safe. Any step you take might make things very dangerous for us. I need you to stay out of this and do nothing."
"How dare you," Uther hissed, drawing himself up. Arthur had seen him bully seasoned politicians into cardiac episodes like this; he'd never had the full force of his father's temper turned on him, and never wanted to.
"Remember the mercy I have shown you," said Merlin. "If nothing else, you owe me your trust."
"I owe you nothing."
"I've seen the box," Arthur said. "I think at the very least you owe him an apology."
"He's a warlock!" Uther yelled, his eyes flashing with real anger, and the first impulse to bow his head and apologise was unnervingly strong.
"He's human," Arthur said instead. "There are limits. We're supposed to be just."
"You – you have no idea what he's capable of."
"I trust Merlin with my life," Arthur said simply, and Uther almost flinched at that.
"What is he planning to do?" Uther asked after a long pause.
Arthur shrugged. He really had no clue. Merlin was probably planning something utterly stupid, and Arthur would have to talk him out of that and come up with a sane course of action by himself, but that wasn't the point right now.
Somehow his gesture mollified Uther the way the words couldn't. He sighed and nodded at Merlin without quite meeting his eyes.
"I'll keep him safe," Merlin said again and wandered off, leaving them to say their goodbyes.
When the gates closed, Arthur stood there for a time, and then walked to the edge of the circle and touched the shoulder of the nearest inmate.
The man looked up at him. He couldn't have been older than sixteen – round-eyed, with a constellation of acne on his forehead and a thin beard that had probably never been shaved.
"Hey," Arthur said quietly. "Sorry. Could you tell me - I don't know this stuff – will it be offensive if I join in?"
"No," the boy said. "Not for this part."
Arthur nodded and sat down, keeping a respectful distance from the others.
The dusk was gathering now, and there was an autumn-cold bite to the breeze. Arthur hugged his knees to his chest and stared into the ground past the dusty toes of his shoes. The vigil was silent; there were no chants or prayers, and everyone seemed deep in their own thoughts.
He probably could have done it differently. At the time killing Val seemed the only way to defuse the situation, but now he wondered if he'd done it because he wanted to.
It had been easy to talk about peace, treaties and negotiations when he was snuggled in Merlin's lap, looking up into his kind, open face. Then he was thinking about all the people like Merlin, caught up in this fight just because they were born into it. But there were others, people like Tauren and Muirden, and after decades of hostilities it was those people, warmongers and terrorists, who would be seen as natural leaders by the magic community. To end the war they might have to negotiate with those. To break the cycle of vengeance compromises would have to be made; a lot of horrible things would have to be forgiven. If he couldn't find the strength to forgive what was done to him and move on, he couldn't expect that of others.
And maybe he could. Maybe one day he'd sit at the negotiation table with the people who held him down while Val plundered his body, and with those who stood and watched, and with those who didn't even care enough to watch, and he'd talk with them about peace. He'd probably be able to do it, because he'd already had his fill of revenge. Because Val wouldn't be there.
It wasn't like him, this wasn't what he used to believe in. He'd only been here for a week – he couldn't imagine what he would become after years of living like this. And most of the inmates in the Facility had grown up like this: hunted, hated, never safe. Merlin grew up like this.
The courtyard was getting dark when he was nudged in the side. It was the same boy he'd spoken to earlier.
"You have to go inside," the boy said. "This part is private."
The crowd had thinned considerably – there were less than a hundred left, and they were busily arranging themselves in a tighter circle around the pyre. The fire had gone out; the druids were doing something to the pyre and the remains, preparing for the next stage of the ritual.
He headed in and only when he was turning the corner to their cell he remembered that it was no longer his. He'd rejected Merlin's protection, he said he'd manage alone. But it seemed like there'd been some new development, and they probably needed to talk about that.
He knew he was fishing for an excuse to see Merlin. He missed him already, his smile, his fluffy eyelashes, his stupid ears, and he needed him right now so badly, just to be around. It was pathetic on many levels, and he was going to get a hold of himself and -
"If you want my opinion, Emrys," came a voice from their cell. "I think the Pendragon boy was given to us as a Sacred King."
"Aglain, Merlin is unfamiliar with this lore," said someone else, and this time Arthur recognised the voice – it was Muirden. "Merlin, sacred in this context means sacrificial."
"That makes no sense," said Merlin. "First, since when do druids practice human sacrifice? I thought it was all propaganda."
"There are very few such rituals," said Aglain. "This one is very old and powerful. By offering the blood of a king back to the earth it's possible to release very potent magic. This ritual can revive barren lands, purge a plague, turn the tide of the war. It could change our world as we know it."
"Still makes no sense. How's Arthur a king? He's just a student."
"He's of the bloodline. He's explicitly consented to sacrifice himself; all the requirements have been met."
"Merlin's right," said Tauren's voice. Arthur was beginning to wonder how many were there and how they all squeezed into that cell. "Sorry, Aglain, this is nonsense. Pendragon's bloodline is useless for the purposes of that ritual. Uther was our jailer and our enemy; he might have controlled our lives, but he never had our fealty. The difference is crucial."
"Well, whoever arranged for him to be here might have been flawed in their reasoning," said Aglain a little gruffly.
"True, true," agreed Muirden cheerfully. "Sadly, age and power don't always go hand in hand with intelligence."
"Edwin, my boy," said the same voice that called Merlin a half-sidhe before. Now Arthur was certain that was Sophia's father. "I know you think yourself very clever. But it doesn't matter how many flashy tricks you master. Until you learn proper respect for your elders you can never become one with the Old Religion. You'll always be a petulant child who was cut off from the source of our true power before you could scratch the surface."
"Yes, yes, you're very old, Aulfric, we're all suitably impressed," Muirden said. "I still think your plan will backfire quite spectacularly."
"We have to do this, Edwin," said Merlin. "Arthur is important. I believe in him. I know he seems like a right prick, but I’ve got to know him a little, and he's - he's amazing. He's brave, and noble, and kind, he'll never give up, he'll always do what's right..."
"Merlin, please, spare us, we all know you're saying this because you're completely infatuated with that boy."
"No, Edwin, I'm completely – I like him because that's all true. Because of who he is. And yes, sure, he's got an arse to die for, and the loveliest cock I've ever seen, but that's not -"
"You know he's listening outside, don't you?" asked Muirden sweetly.
Merlin didn't say anything, but a few other voices started snickering quietly. Arthur gritted his teeth and walked into the cell.
Tauren was in their only chair, and Aglain sat cross-legged on the floor by the wall. Aulfric was perched at the foot of the bunk, with Merlin curled up at the other end. Muirden was lounging on the top bunk, where Arthur slept, which was downright infuriating.
Merlin was wearing normal clothes: cheap old jeans and several layers of blue shirts with clashing patterns. He was hugging to his chest something that looked like two bundled up coats, and there was a neckerchief wound sloppily around his neck. If that was a fashion statement, it was stating something rather lame.
Still, just seeing him out of the prison uniforms was an unexpected treat. He looked so good; his eyes were brighter and bluer, the right hues turned his complexion from pasty to porcelain, and Arthur ached to touch him.
"Colour suits you," Arthur said casually, keeping it cool. "Did you magic those up?"
"These are my clothes," Merlin said. "I got them from the storage. This is for you."
He pulled out one of the coats and handed it to Arthur. It was a lavender blue duffel coat, almost new and quite nice, except for the whole duffel coat business.
"Okay, what's going on?" Arthur asked.
"We're leaving. You and me are going to find the person who framed you, and we're going to set things right."
"You know who did it?"
"Well, no, we don't. But Aulfric has contacts, he gave me a name and a place."
"My friend is both wise and powerful," Aulfric said pompously. "If he doesn't have the information yet, he'll know how to obtain it."
"Yes, so we'll find whoever sent you here, and we'll ask them to undo it. Because so far it’s only brought us conflict and trouble, and we'll explain that. They wouldn't talk to you, of course, but they'll talk to me. I'll make them understand."
"Perhaps there was some unforeseen trouble," Aulfric nodded. "Perhaps things didn't go to plan. Our best option is to confer with whoever set this in motion and learn what the intention was."
"You can't stay here, Arthur," said Merlin. "It won't end well for anyone. It's time we did something."
Arthur folded the coat, trying to organise his thoughts. Just the idea of freedom, safety, possible resolution to this whole mess – he couldn't think straight. He wanted to get out, he needed to be out, and it was happening. Merlin would get him out.
"Wait," he said. "What about the barrier? Can you maintain it if you leave?"
"No."
"Well, then, it's a stupid plan! Haven't you thought about that? We have a truce now, and without the barrier - "
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," purred Muirden.
"Well, somebody has to! What will happen when people start running? The remote operation will be considered a failure, the army will storm the place and kill anyone who stays, and with hundreds of known warlocks on the loose there will be a national emergency, martial law, you can't even imagine! We can't do this. It's too dangerous for everyone, we need to find another way."
There was a long pause. The warlocks still looked slightly through him, as they've always done: like he was something not quite sentient, not worth making eye contact with. But now there was some new contemplative quality to their sideways stares. Merlin wouldn't look at Arthur either, too busy staring at the others with an inexplicably smug smile.
"I think Merlin has a point," said Tauren. "Maybe we're too old and too bitter to still believe. You know, in one of the new religions there is a story about a man who delivered his people from slavery. He led them to safety, and when they reached their new home, he couldn't enter it. He had too much blood on his hands and too much pain in his heart to live in this new free world, even though he fought and bled for it. Perhaps that's how it must be: we played our parts, for better or worse, and it's time to step aside. It's all up to the kids now."
"How dreadfully maudlin," said Muirden with a theatrical yawn. "Well, shall we get on with this?"
"Yes, it's almost time," Aglain nodded, and they all headed out.
"It'll be okay," said Merlin once they were alone in the cell. "I spoke with everyone before the burial. I told them what you told me – about ending the war. I asked them to let me help you, and for them to stay here till I come back, and they all agreed."
"Of course they did. You said it yourself, they're just too afraid to argue with you. Once you're gone, who knows what they'd do! And Aulfric – you know, he tried to kill me last year. He was inciting them against you just a few hours ago – why would he be so helpful now? It's a setup, it has to be."
"It's the only plan we have," Merlin got up and shrugged on the enormous parka he'd been holding. "Come on. No, wait," he quickly kissed Arthur's lips, and pulled back resolutely. "Okay, let's do this."
The cell block was teeming with people. They were everywhere – standing by the walls, leaning over the railing on the upper levels, waiting in the walkways as they went past. Most of them gave Merlin a wave or a nod as he walked by, and he nodded and smiled in return.
"I won't be long," he kept saying.
"Bring us some fish and chips!" shouted someone, and that started a whole chorus of requests, ranging from beer and curry to a squad of hookers.
"Magic some up, slackers," Merlin giggled and led Arthur up onto the roof.
The sky was pitch black, but the roof was brightly lit by eerie glowing spheres that were scattered about on the concrete. Arthur stepped around them carefully, just in case. Muirden, Aulfric and a few others were fussing together over a spot by the northern edge, drawing complicated lines with coloured chalks. Aglain was directing them, somehow aligning their doodles with the position of the Moon in the sky. Next to them Tauren was reading something from a notebook, tracing the lines with a pencil and muttering to himself.
"Okay, we worked out the technical details back in my room," Merlin said. "This part is slightly tricky. The thing about the barrier is that I didn't really think it all through when I put it up. So over time I sort of, uh, fused myself into this location. I'm more or less stuck here. Walking away would be like turning myself inside out."
"I'm not even surprised," Arthur sighed. "That is just so you, Merlin."
"You don't understand how complicated it is to – oh, never mind, why do I bother explaining these things to you? It's like teaching nursery school sometimes."
"Fine, fine, so how are we getting around that?"
"I have to sever my connection to the land. Which I can do, but then there will be a bit of a rift where the connection was and it will partially go through me, and it's not a good thing."
"I didn't think I could like this whole plan any less, but there you go. But this thing they're drawing, is it going to protect you?"
"In a way, yeah. It will teleport us about forty miles East from here. That should give me enough distance to lessen the effects. Also that way we won’t have to sneak past the perimeter, which is great because I might be, um, a bit disoriented after I do this. I won't be up to much for a while."
"Right. Apart from disorientation, what sort of effects are we talking?"
"Hard to tell," said Merlin shortly. "Edwin, is your spell ready?"
"Tauren's just checking my maths," Muirden replied, wiping chalk off his palms.
"All looks good," nodded Tauren. "This is very clever, Edwin, I must say."
"Why, thank you. Some of my best work. Merlin, if you please?"
Merlin took the notebook from Tauren and flipped back to the first page.
"I don't think this will hold very well, even if I cast it," he said, skimming the writings.
"This is why we call it a fake barrier spell," said Muirden testily. "It can withstand a few shell blasts. If that doesn't convince the invaders that our impenetrable defences are still in place, then yes, gentlemen, we're screwed."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," sighed Tauren. "I'll rig it up to the power grid later. That'll give us a boost."
Merlin nodded and began reading from the notebook out loud, slowly, pausing between what could be sentences. In the sky above them something shimmered, as if moonlight was caught on a giant metal cobweb. As Merlin continued reading the spell, the shimmer changed colour, rippled in radiating waves, and disappeared.
"Excellent work, Merlin, thank you!" cheered Muirden, clapping. "Really, it's such a pity. What a pointless waste of a great talent."
"Edwin, enough," said Merlin. "I don't want to hear any more of that. Arthur, let's..."
The door to the roof slowly creaked open. Mordred shuffled through, looking tinier than ever, shivering, his face screwed up in misery.
"Don't," he said. "Emrys, don't."
"Mordred," groaned Merlin. "We talked about this. Go back to your room, please."
Mordred pushed off the doorpost, ran across the roof and caught Merlin's arm.
"Emrys!" he yelled, clinging tight, hanging on with all his weight. Merlin frowned and yanked his hand free, and the boy stumbled backward and started crying, choking on sobs, tears streaming freely down his face.
Arthur lunged forward, knelt in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. Mordred felt so small and fragile underneath the bulky clothes: tiny sharp bones, thin arms, all of him quaking with the force of his weeping.
"Don't cry, Mordred," he said. The boy wailed louder and tried to break free, but stopped struggling right away. Crying robbed him of all breath, he just didn't have the strength. "He'll come back. I promise you. I won't let anything happen to him. He'll be back. Look..."
He let go of Mordred and pulled his signet ring off his finger.
He hadn't taken it off in six years, he hardly ever remembered he was wearing it. For a second he thought it wouldn't come off, but eventually he managed to wrench it past the knuckle and pressed it into Mordred's cold hand:
"This is very important to me. My dad gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. Look, this is my family crest. I'd never part with it if I didn't know I'd get it back. Keep hold of it till Merlin returns. Then you'll give it back to me, when I come to visit."
Mordred stopped crying. He stared down at the ring and tightly closed his fist around it. Then he gave Arthur a very odd grin, turned on his heel and sprinted to the exit.
"Not good," muttered Merlin under his breath and walked to the centre on the chalk drawing.
"Quite amusingly ironic, however," said Tauren glumly. "Pendragon, you need to be standing behind Merlin."
Arthur picked up the duffel coat and put it on. He wasn't keen on wearing some inmate's cast-offs, but the nights were getting cold; he was pretty chilly already.
"Whose is this, anyway?" he asked, joining Merlin inside the central circle of the diagram.
"I don't know, I just grabbed it from the storage. I thought the hood might be handy for travelling," Merlin said.
"It's mine, actually," chirped Muirden. "I got it from Harrods. Oh, don't cringe like that, sweet prince. It's not the only thing of mine you're currently borrowing."
"Edwin," said Merlin wearily. "Shut up. Don't listen to him, Arthur, it's not even his size."
The warlocks surrounded the drawing, each of them taking position at one of the smaller circles evenly spaced over the perimeter of the drawing.
"Keep your limbs inside the line at all times," Tauren said. "Pendragon, you'll have to hold Merlin still. He'll be..."
"Disoriented, I know," Arthur nodded and awkwardly curled an arm around Merlin's waist.
"Not like that. Pin his arms. Don't let his body sway, whatever happens."
Arthur pulled Merlin closer and wrapped both arms around his chest, trapping his elbows between their bodies.
"All right, I'm doing it," said Merlin. He inhaled deeply – Arthur felt his narrow back moving against his chest as his lungs expanded – and started slowly breathing out. Almost immediately his whole body tensed, locked rigid; he moaned and attempted to double over, but Arthur held him tight.
"The faster you break the link, the better," Aglain said. Merlin grunted and pushed upright for a second, and then convulsed violently, over and over, as if he was being tasered, his throat spasming around a ragged scream. The sky overhead lit up again, this time with bright, angry yellow glow; Arthur didn't dare to look up, concentrating on keeping Merlin clear of the edges of the circle.
"Hold him still!" the warlocks were yelling. "He's almost there – be ready, everyone!"
The chalk lines around their feet began to glow, blurring and changing colours. Merlin lost his footing and was hanging heavily in Arthur's arms, still thrashing wildly and making awful pained sounds.
"Is this normal?" Arthur cried, searching the warlocks' faces. "Is he okay?"
"Keep him still!" yelled a few voices at once.
"Have faith!" Aglain was bellowing. Next to him Muirden was watching them, stone-faced, with something like regret in his eyes.
Merlin arched backwards and screamed. It was a sound of a man in complete agony, and all Arthur could do was hold him upright, with his arms pinned, and bear with it – he didn't know how much more of this he could take.
"There is no possible way he can survive this," said Muirden, and Arthur nearly lost his hold on Merlin. He was about to yell, protest, demand for the spells to be aborted, but just then Merlin stopped flailing in his arms and the sky went black.
"Now!" he heard someone scream, and all the warlocks went down on one knee and slammed their palms into the glowing symbols. The drawing exploded upwards, every line turning into a blade of white light.
It took him some seconds to regain vision, and a few more to figure out that he was lying on his side, with his arms still locked around Merlin's body. He let go; Merlin was still, not screaming, not shaking. The pain must have stopped.
They were in a grazing field, lying on short cool grass. There was a dark copse nearby, and a neatly trimmed line of bushes further off separated the field from a country lane, or from another field. There was a string of pale lights far away, a village road, perhaps, and a clump of dark shapes at the far edge of the field – a farm, or maybe a caravan park, he couldn't tell. The landscape was flat, stretched luxuriously in every direction for countless miles, the dark sky shading delicately into lighter blue where it sloped toward the horizon. The moon was peeking through scant clouds, and everything under it was still and perfect, outlined in the silvery light. Arthur could see every branch on those trees, every blade and leaf of the grass, and the splendour of it all was breathtaking, literally so, making his throat so tight he nearly sobbed aloud.
"England is so beautiful," he muttered, pushing himself upright. "Merlin, look."
Merlin was quietly staring upwards with his eyes wide-open, unblinking. His face, bleached by the moonlight, was smooth and expressionless and far too still.
Arthur shook him by the shoulder. Merlin's head rolled on the grass limply, and still he didn't blink.
"Merlin!" Arthur yelled in his face, grabbing for his thin wrists. He pressed his fingers in the dips between bones and couldn't feel anything. But he was panicking, he was flustered. He must have been doing it wrong. He pushed the parka out of the way and flattened his ear against Merlin's chest, at the same time groping with his hand between Merlin's collarbones, at the sides of his neck, searching for the pulse.
There was nothing; no breathing, no heartbeat. Not a single sound or movement.
"Merlin, Merlin, don't, please," Arthur muttered, not even thinking about it. He couldn't keep his hands still, they were shaking on Merlin's skin, he was shaking all over. His vision was blurry, and he couldn't focus his eyes. It wasn't true, it couldn't be happening, it couldn't be, he couldn't -
He shoved a side of his hand in his mouth and bit down, not feeling any pain, till everything became slightly clearer.
"CPR," he said to himself.
He made sure Merlin was flat on his back, braced his hands in the right position and pushed.
"One, camera, two, camera, three, camera, four," he counted out loud. Merlin's chest didn't feel solid enough, like he could easily break all his ribs if he pushed too hard, but he knew he had to exact force for this to work. He prised Merlin's jaw open, sealed their mouths together and exhaled long and hard down Merlin's throat.
Merlin winced and coughed, and that was entirely disgusting. Arthur tasted bile and blood, but still couldn't pull back for a second, kissing Merlin's quivering lips fiercely. Then he gathered him into his arms and crushed him close, just to feel him breathe.
"You stupid jerk, your heart had stopped," he hissed into Merlin's ear. "How could you – I'm going to kill you once you're better. You knew this could happen. You knew and you did it, fuck, Merlin, I hate you so much. So very much."
Merlin sobbed weakly against him, his fingers curled tight around Arthur's arms.
"I can't use my magic," he mumbled. "Can't control it, it's all torn up. It hurts."
"Just hold on, it'll be okay. Look, I think there's a caravan park there. There'll be a guard, and he'll have a phone. I'll get you an ambulance. Just hold on a few more minutes."
"They can't help me," moaned Merlin through gritted teeth.
"They can do something! Painkillers, at least! Warm bed, crash cart on standby..."
"I'm in the system. They'll know who I am."
"Yes, but I'd much rather have you arrested than dead."
"They won't arrest me the second time," said Merlin, pulling back from the embrace. His face was streaked with tears, and he looked so ill, in so much pain. "They're supposed to shoot fugitives on sight. I'm helpless right now; they'll kill me."
"Right, of course," Arthur said. Now he remembered, and couldn't believe he'd forgotten and let Merlin go on the run and take this risk. But, considering the bigger picture, this wasn't the time to squabble over that. "Right. What can I do? What do you need?"
"I'll be fine. If I keep my magic still, it will heal up eventually. I just need to rest a little."
He stretched out where he lay, breathing slowly, with his both hands fisted tight in the grass, trying to relax into the pain. He managed that for a few seconds, steadily getting paler with each breath, and then flopped to the side and retched painfully, over and over. Nothing came up, apart from a few wispy strands of white glow that sluggishly rolled off his lips and melted into the air.
"See, better already," he muttered breathlessly and passed out, with his face pressed into the clover leaves.
He didn't stir for over an hour, and when he did his first words were:
"Cup of tea."
Arthur snorted with relief and amusement. He sat on the edge of the bed, cradled Merlin's head and raised the steaming mug to his lips.
"Cup of tea," cooed Merlin, blinking sleepily and taking small sips. "We meet again. You're delicious."
"It's only naff teabags," Arthur said. "I ripped them up though, so at least it's properly infused."
He'd been trying not to look at Merlin too much while he was unconscious, so he wouldn't freak himself out. He just hovered close and checked Merlin's pulse and breathing every few minutes. As he had hoped, waking up instantly made Merlin look a lot better. Some colour returned to his face. His eyes were still sunken and ringed with deep shadows, but they were open and bright and glittering with the simple pleasure of drinking cheap tea black, no sugar, and somehow finding it lovely.
Merlin drained the mug, shifted in Arthur's arms and looked around: at the wood-panelled walls, the electric kettle rumbling on the counter by the window, cheery bed linens printed all over with happy lambs.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"In a caravan."
"What?"
"A caravan, Merlin. I don't know where your culture shock is coming from. Caravanning is a traditional past-time of your people."
"Of... warlocks?" Merlin asked, looking incredibly daft. The hair on the back of his head was standing up in a small adorable tuft, which was just completing the picture.
"Working class."
"You know, Arthur, when you stand for MP, make sure you campaign on issues, not personality, because as a person you're – oh fuck, Arthur, you broke into somebody's caravan!"
"I knew you'd catch up eventually. Another cup of tea?"
"We can't stay here, it's too dangerous," Merlin said, furiously trying to wriggle out of the blankets. Arthur had tucked him in perhaps a little too thoroughly. "Come on. We'll find a barn or something."
"Merlin, for all I know you just had a heart attack. You're not sleeping in a barn. It's all right, relax, I checked everything. The park is empty, these blinds are solid, there are no cameras and the only guard is about a hundred and ten and fast asleep. We'll be out of here at the first light. Just rest for now."
He fetched the can of soup he'd been reheating over and over for the last half an hour and handed Merlin a spoon.
"Try to eat. Tell me if you're going to be sick, I'll get you a bowl."
"How did we even," Merlin asked between swallowing cautious spoonfuls. "Did you carry me here?"
"Yeah, you weigh about as much as a labradoodle, it was hardly a feat of strength."
"And you undressed me," commented Merlin, peeking under the blankets.
"Just so you're comfortable. And I didn't undress you, technically, I left your underwear on. I prefer if people are conscious and helpful when I strip them naked."
Merlin smiled, handed him back the half-eaten soup and reclined into the pillows.
"You're kind of enjoying this, aren't you," he said.
"Not being in prison? Kind of loving every second of it, yes."
"No, being in charge. Looking after me," he said with a sly sidelong glance, slow flutter of his eyelashes, shadows of dimples around his smile. By now Arthur knew him well enough to recognise this coy routine as premeditated, shameless flirting, but it still didn't fail to affect him.
"I think we both agree I'm better at it than you are," he said a little unsteadily.
"Pillock," sighed Merlin affectionately. "Sleep with me. I'll get cold alone."
Arthur switched the lights off, stripped and climbed into the bed, slid under the blankets to where the sheets were warm from Merlin's body. The bed was narrow, hardly wider than a prison bunk; while he was still figuring out where to tuck his arms and point his knees, Merlin turned just a little and slotted himself against him perfectly, snugly, spooning them together. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist, marvelling at how simple the solution was.
They lay there, breathing in the dark, warming up against each other.
"I might be like this for a while," Merlin said. "Pretty much useless."
"I'm sure I'll find a use for you," said Arthur, brushing his lips over the fine skin on the back of his neck. Merlin tasted of illness and sour sweat, but that only made Arthur mouth at him harder, the knowledge that Merlin was alive, didn't die, suddenly bright and new in his mind.
"Mmm," Merlin wriggled his skinny hips, grinding against Arthur's crotch. "Do you want to? We haven't yet..."
"No," said Arthur firmly. "You need to rest."
"C'mon," Merlin pushed down his boxers, and Arthur's hardening cock pressed against smooth bare skin of his backside. "You can, just like this, just..."
"Don't even."
"Yeah, maybe we shouldn't," Merlin drawled, still undulating softly against him. "We already broke into these people's caravan, ate their food. Staining their sheets would be..."
He shifted and lifted his arse, and Arthur's cock slid between his legs, nested snugly in the warm soft place there. It was almost impossible not to thrust into that tightness, but Arthur stoically managed, kept almost still, as Merlin pressed his thighs together, giving him gentle teasing squeezes.
Arthur just started to lose his resolve, panting into Merlin's neck and palming the sharp angles of his hipbones, when Merlin stilled and said:
"I'm worried about Mordred."
"Ahh. I can't believe that little shit is still cockblocking me even when he's not here."
"I wish you hadn't given him your ring."
"He's a small kid. We left him there all alone. He needs something to hold on to."
"Now he can track you anywhere."
"That's good. He can find us if he needs us."
"Arthur, you have no idea what he's capable of."
"Now you sound like my father," Arthur said viciously. "Are you trying to give me an erectile dysfunction?"
Merlin laughed bitterly and kicked him in the shin.
"I don't know how you do this," he said after a long silence. "How can you trust us? Even me?"
"Same way you trust me, I guess."
"That's different. I wasn't raised in a temple. None of my friends had magic, I knew they were still good people. But when you were growing up, to you anyone with magic was always just the monster at the end of this police report."
"No, that's where you're wrong, actually. You're not the first one with magic whom I cared about."
"Oh," said Merlin in a small voice. His whole body relaxed a little, shifted closer, melting into Arthur's. "I had no idea. Tell me about them?"
"Hm. Maybe someday. I don't want to dredge that up right now."
"Are they alive?"
"I don't know."
Merlin nodded sadly, fussed with his pillow a little and soon was breathing steadily and deeply, heavy and warm in Arthur's arms. With his eyes closed Arthur could almost imagine that they weren't squatting in a shitty mobile home in a field somewhere. They could be in Mayfair, in his room, in his own bed, with the city slowly settling down for the night around them. They could've been on a date, could have had a great dinner and watched a horrible movie together, and now Merlin was spending the night.
One day, maybe, that could really happen. It certainly was something worth working towards.
Next part
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Date: 2010-08-29 09:58 pm (UTC)I love the way you've put them in such a different situation, but they are still very much the TV characters we know and love. Merlin's kind heart and ruthlessness in protecting his friends, Arthur's nobility and competence (and prattishness ;-D).
I look forward to reading the rest of the story.
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Date: 2010-08-30 01:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 10:16 pm (UTC)I loved it as usual :D
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Date: 2010-08-30 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 11:03 pm (UTC)And what of Mordred?!! Will he really do something to Arthur through his ring? I thought it sweet of Arthur but now Im worried about him! (And haha at Arthur's cockblocker comment btw!!) I cant wait to see where that goes!
Oh and Merlin severing the connection! And almost dying! Oh my poor darling!! I knew he wouldnt die but still - I hate to see him hurt! I hope he recovers soon! *coos over him*
And I'm actually surprised at how Edwin and co are helping Merlin and Arthur - though I am pleased about it!
"Oh, don't cringe like that, sweet prince. It's not the only thing of mine you're currently borrowing." - I dont know why but that bit gave me a bit of a thrill - does Arthur know about Merlin and Edwin? And will that have any relevance to future occurences?!
OH THE INTRIGUE!!!! I really want answers and I want them NOW! I love this to pieces, you know I do. And Im really glad to hear that you are almost completely done with writing this fic! I shall be really sad when it ends, but till then I'm practically drooling in anticiaption of more! Hope you update soon, hun! (and when I say 'hope;, you know I really mean 'demand', right?!) ;) xx
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Date: 2010-08-30 01:40 pm (UTC)Mordred is very cross that his Merlin chose to go help that Arthur guy instead of being all snuggly with Mordred. He definitely wants to do something, but he doesn't have a plan yet. Mwahahaha :P Arthur, I think, gets a certain vibe off Edwin, but tries not to think about him and Merlin together because he finds it icky and it makes him jealous. He's possessive :D
Thank you so much! So happy you're still reading, I shall try to post the next chapters soon!
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Date: 2010-08-30 06:50 pm (UTC)And OF COURSE I'm still reading!! I look forward to the next chapters!! xx
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Date: 2010-08-30 01:49 pm (UTC)Arthur's definitely not going to die, I need happy ends in all my stories, I'm a total sap! But Mordred is so angry with him. That kid is pretty messed up and definitely needs more help than Merlin knows how to give him.
Thank you so much for reading and commenting! I'll try to post more soonish! (though I'm so distracted by the Big Bang week!)
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Date: 2010-08-30 01:35 am (UTC)I love this verse, it just feels so right in relation to the show characters.
And I'm excited about boys being out, I really didn't see that coming.
Special thanks for protective!Arthur. I'm a huge fan. :)
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Date: 2010-08-30 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 01:57 pm (UTC)Excellent story. Merlin attracts a lot of prison AUs, but yours is the only one that works, that maintains a coherent logic, takes into account the actual characters, and most important of all has a believable psychology and sociology.
You have also grasped the trick of enabling us to see inside the head of a non-POV character without anvil-dropping. Nice.
Love the smut. Love uber-Merlin. Love the intricacies of the power relationship(s). Looking forward to seeing more of the latest plot twist -- and to meeting Morganna.
But really? Leaving pyro/psycho Edwin unhampered behind a sham shield? Not to mention telling Uther it's a sham in advance? On what planet are those good ideas, boys?
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Date: 2010-08-30 10:19 pm (UTC)Ahaha yes I could say that Merlin isn't really a tactical genius but in truth, well. Can't make a novel-length omelet without breaking open a few plot holes...
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Date: 2010-08-31 04:36 am (UTC)Yeah, most of the inmates are so not going to buy the "We're getting out but leaving you inside for your own good" line.
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Date: 2010-08-30 02:46 pm (UTC)It is very much in character, but still, I caught myself thinking "this would be a great book". Actually, you could change some names and work on this to be a really exciting fantasy novel. I, for sure, would buy it!
Girl, you´ve got som talent! Please give up your day job. ;-)
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Date: 2010-08-30 10:22 pm (UTC)Ahaha actually the company I was with just liquidated so I'm looking for a day job right now which is why I wrote 30K last week - almost done with the story! My poor brave betas <3
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Date: 2010-08-30 03:49 pm (UTC)I adore the power shift so much~ I mean, I loved that Merlin got to protect Arthur (sadly, he doesn't get to do that a lot in fics) but I do find it charming that Arthur has a change now to be all possessive and protective in return. And it balances out their relationship nicely. Arthur won't have to feel like he's just Merlin's 'thing' anymore.
Also, I like your characterization of Edwin, a lot. Especially the way he talks, saying evil, twisted things in a rather polite and charming manner. (And I'm a sucker for all the jealous reactions he manages to stir in Arthur so yes, I quite like him really. :D)
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Date: 2010-08-30 10:26 pm (UTC)I admit, power shifts are kind of my kink. I love it when each of the partners get to be protective and supportive in different ways. And I'm so glad you like Edwin! Oh, Edwin <3 Thank you so much for reading and commenting!
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Date: 2010-08-30 05:22 pm (UTC)Thanks again for writing! :)
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Date: 2010-08-30 10:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 06:03 pm (UTC)The spell was vividly drawn and its violence was an unexpected surprise. Merlin's slight case of death was even more unexpectedly unpleasant. It's no wonder Arthur was spun. It must have been jarring to see such a powerful force snuffed out, even for a few seconds.
I love the image of these two in a caravan. The domesticity is surreal in light of their situation.
It feels like Mordred's played these guys. Arthur's handed the boy great power over them both. I'm left wondering just whose side the druid is really on.
Drat, I'm out of chapters! Do you mind if I friend you so I can get an alert when you post more of this fascinating story?
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Date: 2010-08-30 10:42 pm (UTC)So glad you like the caravan scene! It's weird - caravanning is such a mundane commonplace thing and neither of them would have ever experienced it before. Arthur was too posh and Merlin was too poor even for that kind of holiday :D
Mordred is so terribly confused. His formative years were a mess and he's not heading in a good direction right now, when he sees that Merlin isn't really that invested in him compared to Arthur. Poor kid D: I do adore the twist on the show that Merlin keeps trying to protect Arthur from Mordred and thus sets Mordred on his path of evil vengeance. So cool.
Oh and yay, friends! Heads up, I'm about to spam with my Big Bang story so apologies in advance.
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Date: 2010-08-31 07:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-31 06:59 pm (UTC)It's brilliant! I love the interactions between Arthur and the other prisoners, and his plans for helping then when he gets out are both heartwarming and heartbreaking. And poor Mordred - I love how Arthur was so intent on coming back and being reassuring and all, and how you start to see hints that the prophecy about him and Merlin are going to be about Arthur. And yay for Arthur taking care of Merlin like that after they get out! I hope they succeed. ^+^
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Date: 2010-08-31 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 09:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 08:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-01 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-02 05:40 pm (UTC)"We have to stop this."
"How? By turning ourselves in?"
"By finding the Scarlet Witch."
"I don't think the Avengers would approve."
"I don't think I care."
"I don't think I've ever been more attracted to you."
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Date: 2010-09-02 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-02 09:01 pm (UTC)During World War II a young Jewish orphan boy named Max Eisenhart managed to survive Auswitch, and to help others survive.(1) When his sweetheart believed herself to be the only Gypsy left alive by the Holocaust, he took her family name of Lensherr (and his Uncle Eric's first and middle name) at their wedding. After a few years of post-war marriage and proper nutrition his body started to fill out and his mutant powers kicked in. His neighbors tried to kill him and his family, and succeeded in killing his 3 year-old daughter Anya. He killed them, and his wife ran away. He never saw her again.(2)
He eventually met another mutant named Charles Xavier, and the two men became best friends. Charles planned to open a school for mutants, show humans they could be good guys, and somehow win their favor. Eric helped at first, but eventually became convinced that Charles' plan was too naive to succeed. He decided he was going to keep mutants safe at any cost, and if he had to subjugate the entire planet to do it, he would. He gathered together a group of disgruntled mutants and tried to do just that.
Among his charges were the orphaned teenage Gypsy twins Wanda and Pietro Maximoff whose lives he had saved from an angry mob. Pietro (Quicksilver) was super-fast and Wanda (the Scarlet Witch) could do magic just by waving her hands, although she had poor control over her ability. Pietro and Eric clashed often, and the twins eventually left him and joined the Avengers.(4) Pietro tried to control his sister's life, but eventually he married and moved away to his in-laws' home. Wanda promptly married her android team-mate Vision.(5)
After 150 issues the second team of X-Men finally convinced Magneto he was doing mutantkind more harm than good. Not sure what to do with himself, he made another stab at finding his missing wife. This time he found out that she had been pregnant when she left him, and that the Maximoff twins were in fact his own children. He tried to reconnect with them. Pietro was repelled; but Wanda, who had used her magic to make herself pregnant, tried to form a familial bond with him, much to the horror of the Avengers. Wanda eventually gave birth to twin sons named William and Thomas, with her whole family, Magneto included, at her side.(6) Magneto went to work at Charles' school, even serving as interim headmaster for a while.(7)
Unfortunately Wanda and her little family then fell into the diabolical clutches of writer John Byrne, who hated them. The infant twins disappeared to the horror of their parents. A demon claimed that Wanda had deluded herself into thinking she had babies, and stolen two "lost souls" from his realm to perpetuate her delusion. For some insane reason he was believed, even though everyone knows demons lie. Wanda and Vision divorced, Wanda had a nervous breakdown, and her mentor Agatha Harkness thought it would be a really good idea to erase Wanda's memory of ever having children, and somehow got the idiot Avengers to play along. Magneto took Wanda away for some (much-needed) TLC.(8)
At which point Crabby couldn't take it anymore and cried out, "FU Marvel! I'm leaving and I'm not coming back until you take the consequences of your wretched action seriously!" And I didn't. (It was the 90s, so no great loss.)
Around 15 years later, writer Brian Michael Bendis took over the Avengers and took up my challenge. Wanda accidentally learns of the memory wipe, goes insane from grief and (well-deserved IMO) rage, kills Agatha and several Avengers, trashes their house, and completely demoralizes the remaining members. (I thought they got off way too lightly.) Magneto once again shows up at the end of the story to take his daughter away.(9)
(We're about to get to the good part!)
(1) Magneto: Testament by Greg Pak. Won several comics and literary awards, and deserved them.
(2) X-Men Vignettes. Gorgeous art by John Bolton.
(3) Uncanny X-Men #1 and up.
(4) Avengers #10 and up.
(5) Vision and the Scarlet Witch Volume 1.
(6) Vision and the Scarlet Witch Volume 2.
(7) The New Mutants #50 and up, and related X-issues.
(8) The West Coast Avengers.
(9) Avengers Dis-assembled.
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Date: 2010-09-02 09:02 pm (UTC)Meanwhile Magneto called in the world's greatest experts, including Charles Xavier and the sorcerer Doctor Strange, to help Wanda. While her shattered mind probably would have recovered over time by itself, she unfortunately still had full control of her powers, which threatened to destroy all reality in her unstable hands. A joint meeting of what's left of the Avengers and the X-Men were called to review their progress and discuss their options, including killing Wanda. Pietro overhears this discussion and races to his sister's side, where he persuades her to change the whole world into a (fairly peaceful, stable, and prosperous) place ruled by Magneto, where Princess Wanda spends all her time sequestered in her father's palace playing with her twin sons.
Unfortunately Wanda's heart isn't in the deception, and she leaves enough clues behind that some Avengers and X-Men figure it out and try to undo it. They attack Magneto first, thinking he's behind it, then figure out it's really Pietro's fault. When her brother is attacked Wanda sickens of all the fighting and puts everything back, but not before uttering a curse, "No more mutants." The world changes back to the way it was, with one difference. Almost every one of the nearly two million mutants on the planet is depowered. (Doctor Strange worked a counter-spell that saved 198 of them, but that was all he could do.) (10)
The X-Men and Magneto are frantic to do what they can to keep the world's remaining mutants alive and undo Wanda's curse. Long story short, they pull Magneto's former space station off the bottom of the ocean floor and turn it into an island in San Francisco Bay, declaring it a haven for all the world's remaining mutants. Magneto has pledged to help them, and although his stamina is no longer what it was his control over his powers is greater than ever. While recovering from injuries sustained while protecting the island's mutant children from the latest attempt at genocide, he sees pictures of some young superheroes in New York. The Young Avengers had repelled an attack on a Gay Pride parade by anti-gay extremists when one of them threatened to kill Ted. Billy's retaliation was a bit -- flashy. The Avengers are wondering if they should take pre-emptive action against Billy before he turns into another Wanda. Billy and his team-mates aren't satisfied with how the Avengers are treating them, or once they learn the whole story with how Wanda was treated either. The normally polite and respectful teens (no, they really are) are starting to get fed up with their elder. Grandpa Magneto shows up to help. The adult Avengers go ape-shit. This is the opening of Young Avengers: Children's Crusade available at fine comics shops right now, or if you don't have access to a fine comic shop available pm me.
(10) House of M.
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Date: 2010-09-02 09:23 pm (UTC)Will check my comic book store - that should be a conclusive test on how fine it really is. Thank you!!!!
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Date: 2010-09-02 09:44 pm (UTC)Scans_daily has some scans as well, although you might want to be by yourself when Billy decides his friends and his new Grandpa should cosplay The Sound of Music. http://scans-daily.dreamwidth.org/2342837.html
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Date: 2010-09-02 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 10:43 pm (UTC):sobs:
This is outstanding, truly.
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Date: 2010-09-03 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-03 11:02 pm (UTC)*sigh*
Date: 2010-09-08 01:12 pm (UTC)Re: *sigh*
Date: 2010-09-09 10:54 am (UTC)Season 3 is about to staaaaart I'm so excited.
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Date: 2010-09-16 02:37 am (UTC)Anyway, yes. So I'm not asking you to write more of this. Not at all.
...but if you do, I'll totally read it. : )
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Date: 2010-09-17 03:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-09 03:26 am (UTC)Peace,
Bubba
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Date: 2010-10-12 08:55 pm (UTC)OH MY GOD
Date: 2010-12-29 09:25 am (UTC)I am loving this so much, because I want to know what happens, and I am going to love every moment it takes for me to get there. EVERY SINGLE MOMENT. This is beautiful and so full of adventure, and I am SO glad I found it.