by GR Griffin
“In all my life…I’ve never seen a sunset like it.” He said breathlessly, leaning forwards as if it would somehow preserve the moment forever and freeze time. The man beside him smiled warmly, humming in agreement whilst drinking in the final touches of the sunset. A light violent shade began to paint the lower canvas of the sky against a darker red and gold hue, suggesting that the night was gradually approaching.
“I…I wanted to thank you.” Arthur felt Merlin’s intense gaze fall upon him as he spoke. He could practically feel the doubt in the man’s eyes, taste the interest. Merlin’s suspicions that something was troubling Arthur was instantly deemed correct now. Since when had Arthur thanked him for anything aside from being sarcastic or flippant? Surely Merlin should be thanking Arthur for his consideration of today’s events. The young Pendragon continued.
“You have been generous and accommodating for me, despite my background.”
Instead of acknowledging the complement and gratification, Merlin drew his knees to his chest, leaning close to Arthur. His eyes did not leave the horizon.
“Something’s troubling you.”
Attempting to hide his astonishment at Merlin’s effortless ability to read him, Arthur shrugged casually. He too found the scenery too intoxicating to deviate his vision.
“What gives you that idea?” he retorted in a gruff manner, gesturing that there was indeed something troubling him. Arthur had never been a brilliant liar after all.
“Well,” Merlin began, eyes crinkling gently in amusement. “For starters you haven’t acted like a prat or said anything stupid so something must have-“ his words faded into a fond chuckle as Arthur forcefully shoved him with his elbow with a playful grin.
“Shut-up Merlin.”
A light-hearted laugh escaped Merlin’s lips whilst outstretching his own palm. Arthur watched him intently, his eyes gleaming in a manner that definitely did not resemble anything like veneration or fascination for that matter. Gazing out into the horizon, Merlin’s lips twitched a little with something Arthur could not identify. Then the sapphire orbs shifted into that captivating gold hue, and in the druid’s palm appeared a hovering crimson sphere that matched the burning sky around Ealdor, emitting a healthy glow that added more rapture to Merlin’s usual radiance.
Choking back an amazed smile, this magic lark still continued to astound him in its simple beauty and sheer power, Arthur revealed a crocked grin. His grin faded the moment Merlin shifted his palm towards him, gesturing for him to open up his hand. Swallowing-hard, Arthur reluctantly opened his own palm. Practicing spells and conjuring light magical enchantments was all he had been capable of producing so far. None of Merlin’s lessons so far had involved anything of this caliber. He noticed the dark-haired man’s reassuring smile and decided to trust those glimmering eyes.
Merlin bought his palm slowly over to Arthur’s and titled it slightly, causing the crimson sphere to wobble unsteadily in the air. Focusing his mind for a moment, Arthur studied the sphere. He admired the smooth curvatures; its burnishing glow. Then unexpectedly, Merlin let his palm rest vertically, and the sphere toppled into Arthur’s open hand. It wavered with Arthur’s brief shock, and then settled into his magic with a low, hypnotic hum.
Reaching out his free hand to towards it curiously, Arthur released a shaky laugh at the tingling sensation in his skin. It resonated through his body warmly, and it left a dull ache of longing when it disappeared. Merlin observed him with softened features, fingers trailing over the sphere to appreciate the conjured object. Gently, now with more confidence, Arthur transferred the sphere to his other palm. He was too transfixed on it to see a sickening level of satisfaction wash over Merlin’s face.
“That’s good Arthur.” He said, clearly impressed with the level of accuracy and control his student -no…acquaintance- not really….fr-his Arthur was showing.
If it were any other day, when the sunset wasn’t so enrapturing, or when his mind was not fixed on all of his lies and secrets, Arthur would have grinned before making a sarcastic teasing comment. Instead, he bounced the sphere with gentle movements of his palm pensively. Morgana’s words came back to him in this instance, instigating a frown.
“…How is it I can do magic Merlin?” he asked hesitantly. “Lance and Gwaine can’t do it. Gwenevere can’t do it and she’s lived with you for years.” Exasperated by the question he had suddenly become engrossed with, he sighed and passed the sphere back into Merlin’s palms. “Why me?”
Grimacing at the blonde man’s words, Merlin remained silent. Was this all that was troubling Arthur’s mind? The fact that he could do magic? Then it dawned on Merlin. Arthur Pendragon had been sheltered from magic his whole life, taught by his father and his bitter world it was nothing more than a tool for malevolence and evil. Now suddenly, he was wielding magic effortlessly under the lessons of Merlin. If people in Camelot knew of his powers, perhaps he too could suffer the consequences other druids did. The sphere softly was drained of its colour, fluctuating between a duller red, orange and yellow until it faded into transparency and ceased to exist.
“Some people are born with a destiny, born for greatness.” The enigmatic twinkle in Merlin’s eyes denoted a deep understanding that stunned Arthur for a moment. Sometimes when Merlin wasn’t being such a dimwit, he was incredibly wise and fabricated the perfect words, sculpted by truth and honesty. This was one of those times. Gaze hovering over the raven-haired man’s face, he sighed and resolved to respond to Merlin with a similar truth and honesty.
“I hear a voice,” Arthur said and instantly winced at the desperation lingering in his own voice. Averting his eyes from the mesh of amber and violet spread over the sky, Merlin watched him intently. Arthur shuffled uncomfortably under the gaze.
“She calls to me at night. It sounds crazy but I…I think it’s…I” bowing his head Arthur sighed audibly, not believing he was about to say this aloud. But it was Merlin. Who was Merlin going to tell? For some ridiculous reason, Merlin seemed to be becoming the one person he felt he could talk to. Though they had never really spoken like this before, it felt peaceful and soothing. Arthur wondered why the pair were both drawn to constant bickering and childish jibes as their sole method of communication when it was apparent they could confide in each other in this strange way.
“It’s my mother. Igraine. I’ve never heard her voice until I came to Albion. But it’s just one of those things I can feel it in my gut. I know it’s her.”
“Perhaps she is trying to tell you something, trying to communicate with you.” Merlin replied thoughtfully.
Arthur turned to him urgently, meeting his eyes.
“What do I do Merlin?” the vulnerability radiating from a normally resolute man stunned the raven-haired druid for a moment. The young Pendragon who called him an idiot and all sorts of other things was now searching for advice. No. It was more than that. He was lost; confused. His sapphire eyes revealed that much. Placing a hand on his knee, Merlin smiled.
“Follow her voice, it will take you to her.”
The prospect of meeting his mother overwhelmed Arthur, and created a sate of desperate frenzy. Eyes wide, he leant towards the druid urgently. His next words tumbled out rapidly and slightly incoherent due to his flustered nature.
“Can you take me to her? Can you help me follow her voice? Please Merlin I have to-”
“-Only you can hear the calling Arthur.” Merlin interrupted, sadness etching over his expression at the distressed look on the blonde’s face.
He squeezed the man’s knee gently in hope Arthur would accept his condolences for not being able to offer anything more than words. Merlin knew more than anyone how frustrating words seemed to be when all you wanted was a visual confirmation of someone important. His mind drifted to Gaius, and he removed his hand slowly with a solemn smile. Closing his agape mouth, Arthur nodded silently and cast his eyes away. Realisation of his recent behavior swathed over him, pulling him into a void of embarrassment. His father had taught hi
m to keep his guard up, to never seen vulnerable or exposed. And yet here he was, talking to a druid – Merlin – about matters that had plunged him into a state of disrepair. He hadn’t even begun to think about how he was going to deal with Morgana’s nightmares yet. Bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose, Arthur clamped his eyes shut tightly.
“There’s something else.” Arthur gritted his teeth. Damn Merlin and his perception. “What’s troubling you Arthur?”
Standing up abruptly, he strode towards the trunk of the tree.
“Nothing. I’m fine.” He spat irritably. Fine, fine fine.
If Merlin coaxed one more trouble from his mind – Arthur reached the thick trunk, pulling out his teleporting device. He’d had enough of Merlin’s persuasion; god knows what else he would tell the druid if he didn’t leave. Turning his head, not bothering to stand from his meditative pose and abandon the sky, Merlin raised his eyebrows at Arthur’s dramatic mood change. It was unlike Arthur to be genuinely angry. Unable to resist prying, Merlin replied.
“You don’t sound like you’re fine-”
“-just shut the fuck up Merlin.” The brash insult lacked its usual comedic tone, gesticulating severity.
A little wounded by the harsh tone in Arthur’s voice, Merlin narrowed his eyes. Hadn’t they just been getting along? Hadn’t Arthur just poured his heart and soul into Merlin’s hands and trusted his advice? Swallowing the painful lump in his throat, unsure why Arthur managed to evoke such concentrated emotions from him, Merlin let his own demeanor shift into a more petulant one. If Arthur wanted to play this stupid game then fine. He spared a glance backwards, noticing the blonde had his teleporting device out.
“Where are you going?” he asked, unrestrained annoyance plastered over his words.
“Camelot Base. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Without registering the evident upset on Merlin’s face, he pressed the green button and vanished from sight. Merlin cast a vacant stare at the spot he had once been stood in, and then turned his impassive attention back to the fresh mauve blanket and emerging stars of the night sky.
Chapter 25
It wasn’t until around 2am in the morning that the disturbance from sleep came. Arthur had submerged himself into a peculiar dream, surrounded by Merlin and his blinding smile. They had travelled to the majestic mountains of Ghedent on a silvery Wyvern. It was a surprisingly peaceful dream; a dream that collapsed in on itself when the violent tremors of reality shook his body. Opening his eyes rapidly, Arthur jumped back at the sight of a raven-haired woman, eyes glassy and unrecognisable. Despite him having woken up, she continued to tug at his nightshirt. In one quick movement, he sat up and grabbed her hands, attempting to restrain the despairing motions. They struggled against his grip, a groan of fear slipped past her lips. Gazing at her eyes that had not once met his, he noted the extent of their dilation. The usual laurel green iris was fully consumed by black. Instantly, he established that she was still trapped in her nightmare. How she managed to get to his room, he was unsure. He softly lowered the pressure of his grip on her wrists, not wanting to intensify her fear or startle her.
“Morgana.” He whispered calmly, unable to fully control her writhing. She had never had a nightmare of this ferocity, even in her childhood. He was sure if she had he would have been terrified. She appeared to be unresponsive to his words, locked in a terrifying world.
“Morgana!” he raised his voice a little, heart pacing at the sight of her subconscious hysteria.
He gently shook her, realising the idea was far from good as she clawed at his arms in a frantic struggle, a yelp escaping her lips. Before she could push him down, her weight toppling over him, he drew the two of them up and attempted to reach for her hand.
“It’s me, Morgana.” She turned her head, gesturing she had recognised the voice from somewhere.
Maintaining his feigned composure, Arthur successfully grabbed her shaking hand without violent retaliation. It appeared his voice was becoming effective in rousing her.
“Morg. It’s Arthur.”
The word Arthur seemed to break the final barrier, and Morgana stumbled towards the ground. Catching her weary body, Arthur pressed a hand to her icy skin. Her pupils slowly contracted, and confused swathed over her face.
“….Arthur?”
Guilt consumed Arthur. The extent of her nightmares was worse than he could have possibly imagined, and to think earlier he had dismissed them made him shudder. The terror that had previously gripped her swung back to his mind. Instinctively, he pulled her closer.
“Yes. It’s Arthur.” He spoke slowly, lengthening his syllables. “I’m right here.” Silence. “Are you alright?”
“Help me Arthur, make it stop.” She whispered through a hoarse throat, tears welling in her eyes.
Determinedly, Arthur released her and opened the drawer by his bed. Morgana was right, he realised. If he had magic, then why was it impossible for her to have it too? These nightmares had returned in Albion. Arthur had experienced his own strange phenomenon here of hearing his mother’s voice in his dreams since their arrival. As Hunith said, it was a sacred land. Magic was inescapable, pocketed inside every breath of air, in very corner of Albion. Picking up the teleporting device from the drawer, he strode back towards Morgana and grabbed her hand. Before she could question him, he pressed a button and the two of them fell into a blinding flash of disorientating colours. But as soon as it begun it had ended, and Morgana found herself standing in a well-kept tiny room.
“Merlin.” Arthur hissed, crouching over the raven-haired man who was asleep in his uncomfortable bed. There was no response. “Merlin!”
A groan of protest escaped the man’s lips, and Arthur bit back a fond smile before shaking the man from his sleep once more. Opening his eyes reluctantly, Merlin peered over his shoulder and then shut his eyes once more. He thought the hallucinations of Arthur in the middle of night had stopped months ago. Rolling his eyes, Arthur smacked him against the shoulder, causing Merlin to realise this was not a dream. He sat up quickly, hair tousled chaotically and nostrils flared in frustration.
“What on earth are you doing you clotpo-“ his words faded into a gape as his eyes drifted to the woman standing in the corner of his room, hands pressed together.
Leaping out of his bed, Merlin stared at the pale-faced woman. She was wearing a delicate cream gown falling to her feet. Her eyes were distant, and fear was consumed over her pallid complexion. Then he turned back to Arthur for an explanation. Arthur left his crouching position beside the low bed and sighed.
“This is Morgana.” He said, holding a hand out towards the woman. “Morgana this is-”
“-Merlin.” She breathed pensively, eyes wide and locked on the druid. Arthur shuddered slightly at the tone of her voice. It was almost as if she had known his face long before they had teleported here- which was impossible. Merlin noted her peculiar recognition and then sharply spun back to the blonde man who had destroyed his tranquil evening by telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’ earlier.
“She shouldn’t be here. You saw yourself how the clan felt about you bringing Gwaine and Lancelot here.” He said in an authoritative voice, startling Arthur a little.
Tilting his head, Arthur gazed at the druid in shock. How could Merlin turn his back, when the terror consuming Morgana was so obvious it plagued the air?! Sure Balinor had commanded that he was to bring nobody else here – and he had already broken that. But this was different. Anger flashed over his eyes as he took a step towards Merlin.
“We need your help Merlin. This is important.”
Shaking his head, Merlin leant towards Arthur seriously, eyes radiating concern.
“If she’s spotted or her presence is felt by the Elders you could be banished from Ealdor!” he cried, and Arthur pretended he did not detect the evident upset in Merlin’s voice about this notion. “You cannot get away with violating the sanctions imposed upon your arrival twice!”
Instead of receivi
ng an aggressive retort from Arthur as he expected, Merlin twisted his head to see the woman was now standing close beside him; her beauty was unfathomable. But it wasn’t her beauty that captivated him.
“I understand…I understand why I can’t be here.” She whispered, voice laced with that fear he had spotted initially. “I’ll go back. I promise. But I need your help.”
Gazing into her eyes, Merlin frowned. He could already feel the subconscious energy of the clan hovering around her. He spared Arthur a glance, and the silent pleading of the pair broke his resolution. Grabbing his tattered brown jacket, Merlin threw it over his shoulders and headed for the door.
“Follow me.”
Morgana let out a suppressed breath and made her way to the door with Arthur close behind.
“Thank-” Arthur begun but was cut off by Merlin instantly. For a moment, Arthur was dumbfounded by the command the idiot somehow had over him.
“-Don’t speak until I say so. They’ll hear you.”
♦☼♦
They walked for what felt like hours under the guidance of a cryptically silent Merlin and the pale moon hanging mysteriously in the sky, emitting dim silvery wisps of patchy light through the occasional slits in the overlapping forest leaves. In Merlin’s hand was an enchanting blue sphere that allowed the two characters trailing behind to see roughly a diameter of two metres encompassing them. Arthur shuffled uncomfortably against the shrubbery beneath his feet, reminded of his first grim night in the forests. Surely Merlin was not idle enough to keep them on the forest floor? Who knew what sort of creatures was prowling through the lush thick trees, stalking their every move.
Morgana appeared unaffected by the notion of beasts and monsters, consumed in curiosity instead. Her eyes were latched onto the back of Merlin’s head, meeting his eyes intently whenever he glanced over his shoulder to ensure they were still there. Ten paces ahead, Merlin walked straight through the trees, vanishing from sight.