by GR Griffin
“Onto our next lesson.” Merlin said swiftly, continuing to walk forwards determinedly.
Arthur was unsure what exactly to say, it was obvious Merlin didn’t want to talk about it. He cast one look back at Will before stumbling forwards silently.
♦☼♦
Arthur reluctantly reached his hand out, patting the violet Wyvern on its back. It snapped towards his hand, warning him to keep his distance. Casting a glance over to Merlin, who was at ease beside this creature, he frowned.
“Don’t look it in the eye,” Merlin explained, stroking the scaly skin affectionately.
“Why?”
“Because it’s my Wvyern. It sees you as a meal. A Wyvern will fly with one druid its whole life once you’ve bonded with it.” Jumping onto the back of the small dragon, Merlin whispered something, eyes glowing gold.
In a flash the Wyvern leapt from the thick tree, soaring around the sky. Merlin steered them to fly past Arthur. At this spectacle of flying a dragon –a burst of raw laughter erupted. He couldn’t wait for when his time came to try that himself.
♦☼♦
Merlin, and Gwenevere for that matter, were in fits of laughter, to the point where both of them had to hold onto the other to maintain upright. Ábilgest was flying around the pair in delight, fluttering its wings faster than necessary whenever it looked upon the scene. Burrying her face into Merlin’s jacket, Gwen tried, she honestly tried to hold her composure together and look Arthur square in the eye without a trace of amusement. But it was just impossible. Cupping one hand to his mouth, holding Gwen with the other, Merlin shook his head, glee radiating from his eyes. Ábilgest landed on Merlin’s shoulder, singing a…well a bloody ábilgest song. To say that Arthur was not impressed by their display was an understatement. Then again, it wasn’t like he could do anything to stop it, because he was stuck.
He was stuck in a hole, in the ground, a hole which yes Merlin had warned him about. Watch out for the holes Arthur, they’re ancient traps set by the land to catch out strangers who don’t understand or respect her ways– and how was he to believe that really? That was ridiculous. It sounded like something a heavily intoxicated person would say. Naturally, he hadn’t listened of course, because he knew so much more about Ealdor than Merlin…of course. Now, he had fallen through a hole, just big enough to suck in his legs and waist, leaving his upper body and arms scrambling around.
“Something wrong Arthur?” Merlin asked, unable to sustain the look of innocence plastered across his face.
“I’m…I’m stuck.” He replied with a sigh, willing to admit he was wrong in order to get out of the damn ground.
Bringing a hand to his chin, Merlin studied Arthur’s situation, pulling a comedic face.
“Hmmm…I guess you are.” Grinning he whispered something in Gwen’s ear. She gasped audibly at it and slapped him across the wrist, still laughing nonetheless. The pair shared a mischievous glance.
“Ábilgest,” Arthur began, then narrowed his eyes. What was he thinking? Ábilgest wouldn’t help him. The bird was far too amused by all of this, encouraging Merlin’s laughter. Gazing between Merlin, Ábilgest and Gwen, Arthur smiled. He met Gwen’s eyes and she looked away quickly, clearly feeling a bit guilty about all of this. That was all the proof he needed.
“Gwenevere,” Arthur said, voice low, turning his charm on. “You’re a fine, lovely young woman. Help me out.”
Rolling his eyes, Merlin pouted.
“Don’t do it Gwen, he’s brainwashing you-”
“-Gwen, come on. There’s not a bad bone in your body, unlike Merlin here.” Merlin grinned at the accusation, meeting Arthur’s eyes playfully. “You wouldn’t leave me.”
Gwen walked towards Arthur with a blinding smile, laughing as she watched Merlin feign upset behind her.
“All our years of friendship,” he said jokingly, shaking his head in dismay. “thrown away.”
♦☼♦
“Arthur come on!” the familiar druid said, rushing over from the crowd, face slightly flushed.
“No, no and no.” Arthur replied stubbornly, ignoring the look of hurt flash across Merlin’s face.
“Then you leave me no choice.” He said in response, hauling Arthur up by his arms. Ábilgest chirped in delight, earning a glare from Arthur because this wasn’t funny.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Arthur cried in despair, huffing as Merlin cast him into the arms of the dancing druids.
“Dance!” Merlin called out to him, laughing at the lost, confounded expression on his face.
“Looks like Arthur’s getting the hang of it…” Gwaine jaunted, grinning at Ábilgest. Then he raised his eyebrows, gazing over at Lancelot and Gwenevere, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.
“…Lance too.”
Arthur hauled Merlin back into the dance by his jacket. The pair of them were at ease with each other, smiling freely. Merlin practically turned the colour of a tomato when the dance finished and they both discovered moments later that their hands were still intertwined.
♦☼♦
“I know that look!” Morgana gasped, dragging Arthur back towards her when he tried to creep around her unnoticed.
Narrowing his eyes, Arthur sighed, not really in the mood for her personal attacks on him.
“What look?” he growled.
“Deer caught in the headlights, dazed, a little bit,” Morgana pulled a comical face. “flummoxed-
Arthur indignantly distorted his face at her impression of him.
“-I didn’t pull that face-“
“-It’s Merlin isn’t it?” she taunted with glee, not allowing him to make excuses for his behaviour.
Arthur choked on the laughter escaping his throat. Coughing violently, eyes wide, he shot his sister an incredulous look. Merlin? What on earth?
“Don’t be ridiculous Morgana!” he spat, releasing himself from her grip to carry on walking. He had a very important meeting with his father after all.
“It’s okay to talk about your feelings Arthur-”
“-F-feelings wh-what feelings?!!” he spoke rapidly, annoyance apparent, coherence less apparent. “The only…feelings,” he made a bizarre hand gesture. “I have for that…druid is annoyance, impatience, anger, sometimes he makes me so angry with his constant babbling, and oh yes irritating and exasperated and –“ he stopped midsentence, spotting the mischievous look crawl over her face. “-God dammit what is it now?”
Raising her eyebrows, Morgana folded her arms across her chest, acting as if she were giving a diagnosis.
“Hmmm…that’s an awful lot of feelings Arthur.” She cooed. Arthur’s eyes widened, shock quickly replaced by irritation. Her teeth were revealed in a flashy grin as Arthur began to walk away from her gruffly.
“Where are you going?” Morgana called, laughter laced in her tone.
“I don’t have time for this.” He grunted back non-committedly, not bothering to cast a look back in her direction.
♦☼♦
“What’s this?” Merlin asked, gazing curiously at the wooden object Arthur had put into his hands.
Staring incredulously at Merlin, Arthur scoffed. Was he really that blind? Wasn’t it obvious what it was?
“A dragon.” He replied.
Smiling, Merlin ran his fingers over the smooth groves, the delicate features of the wooden model in his hands. It had dainty wings, a majestic body and large, mysterious eyes. Gazing over to the blonde, he held the dragon in the air.
“I haven’t taught you an incantation for carving yet.” He mused curiously.
“Not all things require magic Merlin.” Arthur supplied, holding out the palms of his hands which revealed small cuts and splinters.
Placing the dragon down, Merlin reached for the bruised and worn palms in concern. He narrowed his eyes at the sight. Without hesitation, words left his lips, and a tingling sensation spread over Arthur’s hands. In seconds, the splinters and cuts were gone, replaced by fresh skin. Eyes w
ide, Arthur pressed his fingers across his palms, sceptical for a moment that magic really could do that. Releasing Arthur’s hands, Merlin picked up the dragon. For reasons he didn’t understand, Arthur felt embarrassed, silly even and dived for the gift.
“You don’t have to keep it, I just…I-I w-”
Merlin pushed Arthur’s hands away lightly, holding the dragon out of his reach. Smiling fondly, he met the man’s eyes.
“Thank you Arthur.” With that he left, leaving Arthur alone in the edge of the forest.
Or so he thought.
“You’re playing a dangerous game Arthur.”
Turning around, Arthur frowned as he met the unusually concerned glance of Gwaine. For a moment, he detected something in those brown eyes revealing that he knew something…something that Arthur Pendragon hadn’t told anybody. Swallowing-hard, praying the admission that his was true hadn’t resonated in his eyes, Arthur spun on his heel, walking away from the man.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grumbled, heart racing, hands a little clammy.
Gwaine laughed bitterly behind him, outstretching his arms dejectedly.
“Uther,” he called out, freezing Arthur in his tracks. Clamping his eyes shut, Arthur listened to the sound of Gwaine pacing closer towards him. “He sent you here for a reason.” Pause.
Breath hitching in his throat, Arthur attempted to steady his breaking composure. How had Gwaine figured it out? If he had….were others on his trail too? Then this anxiety morphed into blind panic, panic because Arthur had forgotten all about his dirty little secret recently, completely indulging himself in Ealdor, and Merlin’s company. It was too late to respond to Gwaine, the silence had stretched out long enough to unveil what he couldn’t say. Gwaine took two more steps forwards.
“He’s asked you to spy on them, hasn’t he?”
Opening his eyes, Arthur fiercely met the judgemental eyes and that scowl.
“I have no choice-”
Anger flashed through Gwaine’s eyes. Reaching out forcefully, he grabbed Arthur’s shirt, pulling him forwards viciously.
“-This would destroy Merlin if he found out.” He spat, and yes of course Arthur knew that. A pang of…jealousy of all things boiled beneath his blood. To say that Gwaine and Merlin were close would be an understatement. “He cares about you-”
“-And I care about him.” Arthur snapped, releasing himself from Gwaine’s grip.
Snorting, the rugged man skewed his expression to one of amused bewilderment.
“You have a funny way of showing it. But then again, you always have.”
Throwing his head back in exasperation, Arthur sighed audibly.
“I’m not technically doing anything wrong here Gwaine.” Lie. Blatant lie.
Instead of an immediate response, Gwaine grimaced. He met his friend’s eyes solemnly. He’d known Arthur Pendragon for a long time, watched him change over the years from a hardworking -but fun- guy to a severe, counterfeit version of himself. He’d never thought he would get his Arthur back, the one everybody loved. However, being in Ealdor, Gwaine had noticed the changes occurring. The exterior around Arthur was cracking away, revealing the true man inside. He was smiling more, laughing more. And it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out why. Even if he wouldn’t admit it yet, because he was a stubborn arse, Gwaine was sure Arthur secretly had discovered it. But to think all this time, he was hiding a dark secret imposed by his father, one that would undoubtedly break Arthur himself in due course….it just counteracted everything going on here. Sighing, Gwaine placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
“They won’t move Arthur. You know this.”
Lowering his gaze dejectedly, Arthur attempted to feign composure. Yes. It had become more and more obvious how special Ealdor was, how crucial the Crystal Cave was to the druids. Of course they wouldn’t move. This was their home. Arthur was slowly beginning to understand the deep connection the druids had to their world, to this land. How on earth he was going to tell his father this, he was unsure. He’d thought about playing along with this dangerous game. Maybe he could bluff his way through….giving away nothing to his father. At least until his six months were over? That would give him time to prepare, time to act upon all of this. Or maybe he should tell his father now, tell him that they wouldn’t move and that this was clearly a stupid, ridiculous plan.
Yeah, like that would work.
“…Are you going to tell Merlin?” he asked slowly, lifting his head.
“No.” Gwaine replied, surprising Arthur. Narrowing his eyes, Arthur studied his friend’s stern expression. “It’s not my secret to tell. You have to be the one to tell him.”
Chapter 21
The orange sun was still rising over Ealdor, giving the Crystals wavering outside the cave a hypnotic golden shimmer when Arthur reluctantly opened his eyes. As Merlin had offered up his bed up the past few nights, he had rather nobly agreed to sleep outside in the company of the earth. He recalled the blatant surprise smeared over Merlin’s face, how his eyes had widened, cheeks flushed. Slowly, he got onto his feet, ruffling a hand through his dishevelled blonde hair. It was definitely a lazy morning; mutual disagreement to rise for the approaching dawn had spread across the druid clan, possibly even all of Albion.
To Arthur’s astonishment, Merlin – the earliest riser of all the druids – was still asleep. A smile framed Arthur’s mouth. It must have been challenging chaperoning Arthur, teaching him the ways of the druids and completing his responsibilities for the clan. Arthur liked to think he’d made great progress in Merlin’s lessons. He was unsure whether to ask, Merlin was either cryptically silent or severely amused in their lessons.
Barely a handful of souls had left the world of dreams. A few of the children wandered around the outskirts of the settlement, mystically quiet as if they were still dozing. Even the trees awoke languidly, timidly stretching their arms to the wind’s hushed yawn. The forest around, Arthur noted as he began to walk, was cryptically silent, secrets nested away and trapped in an enchanted slumber.
Enchanted, just the word and its connotations sent an unpleasant shiver up and down his spine, leaving an unfamiliar but pleasant twinge in his skin. Magic. It hadn’t exactly been easy discovering that he could conjure spells. Merlin had acted as if it were normal. Yet Gwen, who was also from his world, was not capable of magic. He pretended this didn’t concern him, but it did. Part of him wanted to trust Merlin’s carefree, soothing words, his reassurance that it was not Arthur’s decision to learn magic, that magic had welcomed him into its heart. It was a magical land after all, perhaps Merlin was right. Arthur hardly understood magic, despite spending every hour of the day in Ealdor. It was…ironically – magical. The more he had learnt from Merlin, the more spells he’d acquired, he was more attune to a newfound tingling sensation in his body and the content humming inside that warmed his chest.
Then there was the voice in his head. The woman.
He’d tried to ignore it all the months he’d spent in Albion. For the first few weeks of his time in Albion, the whispering saccharine voice had echoed in his mind. At first he believed it to be nothing more of a hallucination, or a consequence of extreme fatigue. However, the voice had not subsided. In fact, the longer he spent here in Albion, the realer it felt, the closer the voice felt. Each time the smooth voice sounded, he found he could construct more of a picture in his mind of the woman, especially last night. Throughout the night, he had glimpsed a woman in the background of his dreams – faint and blurry, never coming into focus or into the limelight. But this figure appeared with the voice. Arthur knew this could be no coincidence. The thought unsettled him, stirred him awake several times.
Why did her voice bring him such overwhelming poignancy like a thousand daggers piercing his skin, and then become a refreshing caress full of hope and unceasing joy? That wasn’t the important question though. The real question was who-
-He quickly brushed aside the thoughts the moment he landed in Camelot Ba
se. Frowning, Arthur strode through the bleak, empty bay. It was a big moment for him. Gwaine’s words had sparked worry and panic through his mind. He had decided to tell his father that enough was enough. The mission was off. He couldn’t afford to jeopardise the friendship and trust he’d built with these people- yes people. See. That was the thing he had realised. The druids weren’t outcasts or savages; they were people – people with a far more amiable and peaceful culture than his own that was for sure. During the past few months he had learnt the ways of the druids. He had come to respect it, respect Merlin and the others. He was beginning to understand their perspective. In doing so, he had realised his father was wrong. Therefore he had no choice but to tell him, the boss, his father.
The secret agenda had to be terminated at whatever cost.
He pretended to ignore the anxiety building up in his skin. What would his father say if he discovered Arthur had been using magic? Maybe he wouldn’t say anything, he could be automatically disowned or disinherited. What would he say to Arthur’s proposal? He could hardly waltz in and say ‘Hey Dad! The past few months I’ve been learning magic, and I’ve decided we should just ditch the whole thing’. No. This required a much more calculated, cunning approach. Swallowing-hard, he strode through the bland corridors, already littered with people up bright and early for another day of hard work. As he reached his father’s office, he half-expected to be greeted by Morgause and told to come back later. It was ridiculously early.
However, to his surprise, as he opened the door he spotted his father sitting by the wooden desk. Before his father could speak, Arthur seized the blind rush of courage streaming through his veins.
“Father, they won’t move.” He said firmly, lifting his head boldly to assert authority. “I’m sure of it.”
Uther Pendragon gazed up form his paperwork, expression stern and cold. It was really pathetic how one menacing look from his father had the power to break an alarming amount of his resolve. Studying his son, clearly unimpressed with his messy appearance and simple attire, Uther frowned. Then, he set his attention back to the documents on the table.