by GR Griffin
Releasing him, Gwenevere tried to offer her friend a smile, but she failed miserably. Will had been a close friend of Gwen’s, her first druid friend. She’d saved his life; she’d experienced many hardships with him. Now he was gone, now he might not be coming back. Merlin noticed her despair and decided to lock away his turmoil. Reaching for her hands, he caressed the palms soothingly.
“He’ll be fine.” He said blankly, voice lacking emotion or depth, eyes empty.
Gwenevere nodded fiercely, blinking away her tears. She squeezed Merlin’s hands with her own before walking back to Ealdor silently. Hunith followed her swiftly, smoothing a hand over her son’s shoulder as she went. Sighing, Balinor leant towards his son. Merlin gazed into his father’s eyes, allowing the suppressed emotions to surface. His eyes became watery, his body shaking, his lips trembling. Instinctively, he fell into his father’s comforting embrace, allowing his tears to fall quietly, muffled by the navy robes. Balinor cupped his son’s head, gently stroking the dark hair.
“It’s not your fault Merlin,” He cooed, expression severe. Merlin should have known better than to hide what he was thinking from his father, he knew him too well. “He wanted to go. You know Will,”
Lifting his head from his father’s chest, Merlin sniffed.
“I do. He’s a stubborn ass, only satisfied if he gets his own way.” There was slight hint of bitterness intertwined with the fondness radiating from his voice.
For a moment, the pair of them dwelled in the morose silence. Will would be fine. Will was headstrong. He was going to be with Freya after all, the pair of them would be happy, together finally. Merlin was still unsure how he felt about this, and hadn’t told anyone else this personal information. Nobody else needed to know. It wasn’t like he still had those kinds of feelings for Freya anymore. A pang in his chest resonated, full of a dull ache. It was an ache to see his old friends again, an ache for Will to come stumbling through the forest chanting ‘fooled you!’. The ache grew when he realised this wasn’t going to happen. Abruptly, Merlin left his father’s arms and walked back to Ealdor. Balinor followed slowly, glad Merlin couldn’t see the overwhelming amount of concern and pity emitting from his eyes.
♦☼♦
Arthur had noticed it immediately. The second he had seen Merlin approach from across the clearing he knew, something was wrong. The druid looked weary, restless and fatigued, and a whole lot of other things all meshed together dangerously in a combination that seemed extremely unstable. He didn’t acknowledge Arthur’s presence as he walked past, his eyes locked on the horizon – they were empty and lacking life. Arthur watched Merlin trudge towards a thick log. He sat on it pensively, hands clasped over his knees. He was clearly deep in thought. Curiously, Arthur strode towards Merlin, sitting beside him on the fallen, decaying tree trunk. It was so thick that their feet dangled off the sides, not close enough to touch the ground. They sat in silence for a moment. Then Merlin cleared his throat and spoke, not acknowledging Arthur with his eyes.
“William’s father was killed,” he stated banally. “whilst rescuing a group of druids from the labs in Camelot. That’s why he doesn’t trust you.”
Well. Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise at the dark news, unsure what exactly toe say. That certainly put things into perspective. No wonder William was set out to kill Arthur with vehement looks and aggressive behaviour. His father had no doubt been slaughtered in the labs, under the orders of Uther Pendragon. He homed into Merlin’s last words: That why he doesn’t trust you. Trust. Arthur tried not to wince at the word. Nobody here really should trust him. As Gwaine said, he was playing a dangerous game, toying with things completely out of his control, playing ‘secret spy’ for his father. Grimacing, he bought a hand to his face.
“What if he’s right not to trust me?” he exhaled.
At this surprising statement, Merlin turned his attention to Arthur in anxiety. Is that what Arthur thought? Did he really think that the druids didn’t trust him, that they honestly believed he had some kind of secret agenda? Affection and loyalty blazed through Merlin’s eyes passionately. Arthur Pendragon had revealed his true self recently. He was a good man- a great man. He was going to change things. They were going to change things, together. Arthur observed the blinding faith radiating from Merlin’s stern expression, filtering through his eyes. Leaning towards the blonde, Merlin shook his head determinedly.
“He isn’t.” his voice had infinite fortitude. “I know he isn’t.”
Feeling uneasy, and suddenly nauseous Arthur found he couldn’t overlook the overwhelming amount of resilience in that voice. Merlin really did trust him, really did respect him. But no – it was more than this. Merlin believed in him. The words were touching, reassuring. Fondly, Arthur smiled at the druid, eyes blissfully open and revealing the warmth bleeding out from his insides.
“He’ll come around though I’m sure,” he replied, a low chuckle slipped past his lips. “You did.”
Meeting Arthur’s eyes, Merlin laughed. He hoped it was convincing. However, the laugh sounded mechanical and hollow, evidently forced. It didn’t take long for the blonde to establish this. Arthur scrutinised the druid’s face in the few seconds that passed between them. Those eyes were sparkling, but they weren’t actually sparkling. It was an illusion forged by the rays of sunlight glistening down over them. His cheekbones created dark crevasses in his face, heavily exaggerated in the light. His lips were pursed shut tightly, drawn into a thin unwavering line. Narrowing his eyes, Arthur gazed imploringly into Merlin’s eyes, hoping for some kind of explanation for his subdued behaviour.
“Will he….” Pausing for a moment, Merlin averted his eyes attempting regain composure. “he left.” Silence. Arthur’s eyes widened at the shocking news. “This…morning.”
“Oh, right.” Arthur offered meekly, eyes rendering Merlin’s body language, understanding the depth of his sadness. He didn’t know much about Will and Merlin’s friendship, but he assumed they’d been friends for a heck of a long time. They were contrasting characters, each bearing essential qualities the other lacked and using it to balance the other out. Merlin shrugged non-committedly.
“It’s okay.” He muttered, bowing his head.
It was not okay. Arthur had learnt by now Merlin was a terrible liar. Raking a hand through his blonde locks, Arthur sighed.
“How about we continue the next lesson tomorrow?” he asked hesitantly, unsure if Merlin would comprehend what he was implying. Merlin remained motionless, Arthur continued swiftly. “I have some things to attend to back at the base.”
Merlin nodded in agreement, a trace of a smile framing his soft lips. Arthur was giving him space, giving him time to himself because he knew Merlin needed it. It was a gesture of compassion, one of the first gestures of such emotion between them. Arthur leapt off the fallen tree trunk, beginning to edge away into the bustling centre of the clan. Abruptly Merlin lifted his head.
“Arthur.”
Tearing his head back towards the druid, Arthur met Merlin’s eyes. The same compassion echoed through them, his smile growing slightly.
“Thank you.”
Smiling back, Arthur said nothing in response. Instead, he intensified the gaze between them, pouring his words into the connection bonding their eyes together. Then he turned his attention away, preparing himself for a mundane day back in Camelot Base. He had turned too quickly to notice Merlin’s smile broaden into a substantial beam, or see the way the sapphire eyes actually sparkled hopefully.
Chapter 24
Breakfast had been torturous. The large hall was bustling with people, employees of Camelot Enterprise. Some were soldiers, some businessmen and some worked in maintenance and some had other jobs that may not be crucial to the project, but were no doubt essential to the running of the base. Everybody was queuing eagerly for the morning bacon rashers or whatever they desired from the kitchen. The glorious weather outside had stimulated optimism and cheer amongst many. Gwaine, Leon and Lancelot we
re amongst the group that had been indoctrinated by the sunlight. Merrily, Leon placed his tray beside Morgana, offering her a warm smile that gently stirred her heart. Part of her had wondered if she should tell Leon about the events of last night. Would he understand? What if he didn’t understand?
By the time Gwaine bounded over with Lancelot two minutes later (boasting about their adventures in Ealdor, knowing it would turn Leon green with envy), Morgana found her opportunity had faded and she remained conspicuously quiet whilst they ate. If the boys noticed anything, they hadn’t voiced their concerns. However, she was aware of Leon casting her dubious glances during conversation as she prodded her bacon vacantly. He too, to her relief, said nothing.
There was only one person that would understand, and that was Arthur.
The slight ache in her chest grew at the realisation that she had no idea when he was next returning. Unable to finish the greasy food, Morgana stood from the table, and made her way towards the back door. She entered the base grounds, inhaling the fresh pine air. It soothed her lungs, relieving her tension a little. She made her way around to the delicate flower patch when an ugly buzzing noise screeched out from behind her. Spinning around, she watched the man transform from a fuzzy hologram to a solid body. He adjusted the teleporting device in his hands; clearly naive to the fact he was being watched.
He lifted his head finally, meeting her eyes. A peculiar mixture of affection and annoyance brushed over his features. Morgana smiled back, almost nervously. Observing this newfound anxiety within her, he strode forwards and examined her weary face in more detail.
“Come on then,” he said rather petulantly, Morgana assumed he had just come back from a dispute with Merlin. “spit it out.”
Frowning, the raven-haired woman hesitated, feeling the words forming but unsure whether to voice them. Arthur raised is eyebrows, and she resigned to being honest with him.
“Do you remember when I was seven, I had those nightmares?” she asked, watching his lax jaw tighten, eyes become stern and hollow. This indication of concern quickly fled and in its place was something resembling scepticism. He appeared to have already established where this was going and what she was going to say.
“Morgana.” He drew the word out slowly on his tongue, leaning towards her with narrowed eyes. It was pathetic how his rendering of her name in this instance almost crumbled her resolution and determination to continue the conversation. Dismissing his tone, she clutched his arm severely, locking their eyes together.
“I had another one last night Arthur.” He rolled his eyes at this, causing her to wince. “It was like nothing I’ve ever dreamt before. I saw things Arthur. Terrible things. But I feel.” She paused to catch herself before her words became an incoherent spluttering. Inhaling a deep breath of air, she continued steadily.
“I feel like it’s going to happen…as if the nightmare was real. It was like I saw the futu-”
“-Morgana!” Arthur interrupted warily, voice dangerously low and suggesting she should not utter such things in the middle of a Camelot facility.
His insensitive reaction released her short-fused temper.
“Don’t you Morgana me!” she squeezed his arm a little tighter. “It’s not impossible Arthur.” Water began welling in her eyes. “You’ve been spending everyday with the druids, you know what powers they possess. I…I think…” swallowing a lump of tears, she averted her gaze to the ruby flowers.
Eyes wide, she blinked slowly as her mind pieced together the theory that had just revealed itself. Gaius had magic. He had administered the potions for her nightmares. What if Gaius had put magic into it because she herself was a-
“….You think you have magic?” he whispered, almost inaudibly.
The weight of the words aloud sent her heart plummeting to the tips of her toes and quickly rising back up again. It suddenly was difficult to anchor her balance on the ground beneath her feet. Wavering from side to side, she stumbled meekly. Arthur instinctively reached out and supported her. Their eyes met in a long, silent gaze that said nothing, and meant everything. Adjusting herself, she leant towards him now fully aware that if anybody heard this conversation she could be in grave danger.
“You can use magic.” She muttered curiously, and Arthur turned his head rapidly around the area in caution. Nobody knew of his secret and surprising gift here. Not even his father. Only Gwaine and Lancelot had witnessed his spell-casting in Ealdor. But neither had said a word. The consequences of baring magic could be colossal. He was slightly taken-aback as to how she knew about his powers. Hiding his surprise, Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. His magic was mystery, even to Hunith it seemed.
“I am just one of a few rare þá útlendan that can use it.” He replied, lowering his gaze to her grip on his arm then back up to her urgent eyes. The uncertainty resonated in his sapphire eyes, and gave Morgana a wealth of hope.
“You can’t learn magic Arthur, even you know that.”
Arthur didn’t respond, he knew the truth of her words, the message that was encrypted behind it. There were implications of his father’s dark past or something along those lines plastered on her forehead.
“Well, I’m just so amazing Albion made an exception for me.” He bragged with a false grin.
Shooting him an incredulous look, Morgana felt the corners of her lips tingle a little. Slight warmth spread through her chest at this moment of short amusement. Shifting the conversation from himself, Arthur sighed softly.
“Morgana-“
“-Why didn’t you tell me you could do magic Arthur? This changes everything-”
“-It changes nothing.” He fiercely retorted, eyes burning into her. The fear of his father finding out, or Cedric and Valiant for that matter invigorated the raging inferno. “You are to tell no-one of this Morgana.”
Nodding reluctantly, Morgana frowned and released his arm. The wave of disappointment clouding her body language washed over the male, soaking him in guilt. He pursed his lips together, then placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” He said distantly. However, she appeared to be completely immersed in a different stream of thoughts.
“I don’t know what to do Arthur.” She breathed, shaking her head. “I…I’ve seen things. I…”
“Shhhh. It’s okay.” She was cut off by Arthur’s calming tone, his hands reached to her back and rubbed over it comfortingly. Just like when she was younger, here he was looking after her. He had always looked after her. She had always tried to look after him too. Yes, granted was the fact that the past ten years of their lives had been saturated in petty arguments, serious arguments and playful arguments. Arguing had begun to be their sole method of communication, an unhealthy dysfunctional relationship threatening to form. It was the moments like this that assured Morgana that she and Arthur would never truly lose their unique bond.
“They’re just dreams. Nothing more Morg.” He cooed in her ear.
Unsure whether to believe him, but certain to trust Arthur’s words, Morgana hummed in response inanely. She remembered the childhood nickname he had for her, how strange it sounded to her ears after all of these years of dormancy. Smiling against his protective embrace, the nightmares slipped to the back of her mind. Then abruptly, just when she had begun to indulge in the safety of his arms, he released her and kissed the top of her forehead, the same way he had fifteen years ago. The gesture had great significance to the pair, who exchanged a profound look.
“I’ll let Merlin know I’m staying here tonight.” He said before coughing awkwardly.
The unspoken significance of the words rang through Morgana’s ears. With that, Arthur brushed over his clothes and began to make his way towards the Camelot Enterprise building, clearly a little fazed by this meeting with the woman.
“-Arthur!” Morgana called out, drawing the male to a halt.
He glanced over his shoulder to see her twinkling eyes swathed in gratitude.
“Thank you.”
He offered her
a small smile, and then began to make his way into the building, out of Morgana’s sight. The day was long, with duties to complete for both Merlin and Uther, Arthur had no more time to waste. As he made his way into the building, he glanced back at the abnormally shaken woman, deeply confused about their recent conversation. Questions raced in his mind. How did she know he could do magic? Did Gwaine tell her? What if she really did have magic? What if-
“-Arthur. I wasn’t expecting you until this afternoon.”
The sound of his father’s voice dragged him away from his thoughts and back to the reality of Camelot. He cast his eyes back to the raven-haired woman who was studying the flowers before acknowledging his father.
♦☼♦
“How much longer are you going to stand there watching me like a clotpole?” Merlin asked absently, eyes remaining focused on the burnishing amber sky, the clouds ablaze with regal shades crimson and gold.
The vast forest of Ealdor was a black silhouette against the languid rays of light radiating from the sun that was plummeting down behind the hilly terrain of the western valleys. It had been many months since the sun had announced its departure to slumber in such a splendid manner. Merlin was certain many other druids were marveling at the beautiful sight. In fact, he himself was so fixated on the sunset that he had almost forgotten Arthur’s presence until the blonde spoke.
“I’m…sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll just head back to-”
Reluctantly tearing his eyes from the horizon, momentarily worried it would vanish if he looked away; Merlin narrowed his eyes at the male in confusion. He could sense hesitance and something else stirring through Arthur’s voice. Before the blonde could lower his foot onto the branch below, Merlin replied.
“-No. Stay.” Arthur gazed up, only to see Merlin’s tuft of black hair against the majestic sky.
Slowly, he sat down beside the druid cross-legged on the gigantic branch. It had been a strange day. Merlin was offset by Will’s departure, and Arthur was subdued by Morgana’s nightmares. The pair of them were both harboring different anxieties. Then he allowed himself to appreciate the glorious sunset unraveling before him. Mouth agape slightly; he watched the final curvature of the sun slip out of sight beneath the hills. A small laugh of disbelief escaped his lips, drawing Merlin’s attention towards him curiously.
