Happy Merlin Holidays to reni_m! [2/2]

[merlin-hols.livejournal.com]

* * *
In the moonlight, Arthur watched from the shade of an oak tree as Mordred traced a spiral in the snow. He was chanting over it, in that same language that Merlin had used to destroy the monster. Arthur's hands clenched into fists at his side, and he forced himself to think of Merlin. I'm doing the right thing, he told himself. And, he'd do the same for me. Because Merlin would — Arthur was sure of it. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize Mordred had stopped chanting until the boy stood in front of him, offering a dagger, hilt forward.

"You'll have to do this next bit," he said.

Arthur regarded the dagger warily. "What do I do?" he asked.

"Let one drop of blood fall in the center of the spiral," Mordred said, pointing to it. "Make sure not to mess up any of the markings." He smiled, a little dreamily. "One drop of blood now, for the promise of more in twenty-three years."

Arthur glanced at the dagger, then up at Mordred. "Twenty-three years is a long time," he said. "My life is dangerous. You do realize that I might die before then?"

Mordred shrugged. "I'm willing to take the chance that you might die," he said. "Are you willing to take the chance that you might live?"

Arthur regarded him warily for a long moment, then took the dagger. Moving carefully around the outside edge of the spiral, he leaned forward and brought the tip of the dagger to the palm of his shield hand. A drop of blood welled up, dark against the gleaming steal blade. Extending his hand, Arthur let it fall.

For a moment, the blood gleamed like a single ruby in the white expanse of snow. Then it sank, disappearing into the earth. The spiral glowed gold, then faded.

"It's done," Mordred said. "The pact is sealed and binding." Crossing to stand in front of Arthur, he held out his hand for the dagger. Arthur swallowed, curiously reluctant to turn it in his hand and offer it hilt first, as custom dictated. Feeling Mordred's eyes on him, he forced himself to wrap his fingers around the blade, clumsier than he'd ever been with a dagger. Meeting Mordred's smirk with a haughty expression, he offered the bone hilt of the dagger to him.

Mordred smiled, and slid it from his grip with exaggerated care. "Remember this dagger, Arthur Pendragon," he said, lifting it to the moonlight. "Twenty-three years from now, it will seal your fate."

Arthur forced his face to remain impassive, though his stomach twisted sickeningly. "If I live that long," he said lightly. Retrieving the cup from his bag, he offered it to Mordred. "The Cup of Life?"

"Of course." Mordred lifted the Cup into the air, and, looking skyward, began to chant. As Arthur watched, clouds gathered in the clear sky above, and a bolt of lightning flashed, thunder shaking the ground beneath his feet. Inexplicably, rain began to fall, melting the snow around their feet. Somehow dry, despite the rain which streaked around them, plastering Arthur's fringe to his hair and weighing down his cloak, Mordred passed the Cup, now brimming with water, to Arthur. With a word, the rain lessened, then stopped as quickly as it had begun.

"Don't spill this," Mordred warned him. "If Emrys's soul remains in his body, the water from this cup will revive him."

Arthur nodded. Holding the Cup gingerly, he climbed onto his horse, settling it on the saddle between his legs. "Thank you, Mordred," he said.

Mordred smiled, and the hair on the back of Arthur's neck lifted. "Oh no, Arthur," he breathed. "Thank you."

* * *
The trip back to Camelot was longer than the trip to the forest. Arthur rode all night, and through the following day. He didn't dare to spur his horse to a gallop, lest the water spill. Instead, he kept to a slow trot, his palm braced over the open mouth of the Cup to keep the water from sloshing over the slides. By the time he rode through the palace gate, it was already sunset. Despite his best efforts, some of the water had spilled, although the Cup remained nearly full.

"Sire!" Gaius said in relief, as Arthur rushed into his workroom. His eyebrows raised at the Cup in Arthur's hand.

"This is it," Arthur said tightly. "Did you . . .?" He couldn't bring himself to ask the words out loud. The sick bed was empty.

"He's in his room," Gaius said.

Arthur nodded, and started up the stairs to Merlin's room. Whatever Gaius has done worked wonders, Arthur thought dully, staring down at Merlin's body. He looked like he might be asleep, save for his waxy complexion. Settling gingerly on the edge of the bed, Arthur lifted the cup to Merlin's lips. The water poured into his mouth and dribbled down the sides, but nothing happened.

"No," Arthur whispered. "Merlin."

He emptied the goblet down Merlin's throat, and waited, but Merlin lay still, cold and unresponsive.

A gentle hand curled over Arthur's shoulder. "Sire," Gaius said. "He's moved on."

"No!" Arthur protested. "I'll try again."

"Arthur," Gaius said quietly. "You've got to let him go."

"I can't," Arthur whispered. His breath hitched, and only then did he notice the tears sliding down his face. "I can't do this without him, Gaius!"

He sank to his knees beside the bed, letting the Cup fall to the floor beside him. In his mind, he saw only Merlin. Merlin's slim, quick fingers, his blue eyes and dimpled smile. The ache that he hadn't allowed himself to feel welled up in his chest, and Arthur bowed his head, shoulders shaking. He couldn't imagine twenty-three years without Merlin. The grief in his heart swelled and rolled like waves. The pain was intense, like his own soul was breaking, yet beneath dark, crashing grief, flashed a sudden bolt of golden light, like the fire in Merlin's eyes as he'd faced the amphisbaena.

Arthur stared at the ground, seeing Merlin in his mind. "We . . . we were like two sides of the same coin," he whispered, knowing even as he spoke that the words were true.

The golden fire beneath the grief flashed again, brighter this time. In its light, he saw Merlin's tall, slim form. Merlin lifted a hand to wave, smiling sadly, then turned to walk away.

"No!" Arthur roared, rising to his feet. In his mind, he was lunging forward, diving into the crashing waves. Merlin turned at the sound, his mouth opening in surprise. Struggling through the grief and the fear, Arthur pressed forward and caught Merlin's wrist. The shock of contact was instantaneous.

The golden light crashed through him, suffusing his senses, and the effect in the physical world was like a blanket of fog drawing around him. The sights and sounds of the room faded. Arthur gasped in shock, his soul clinging to Merlin's with all its might.

"Sire?" Gaius said, concerned, in a voice that sounded like he'd been saying it for some time.

Arthur ignored him, dropping to a crouch. Blindly, he felt on the floor for the Cup of Life. His fingers felt cold and numb as they wrapped around it, like he'd plunged his hands in snow. On shaky legs, he rose, and stumbled across the room to the window.

Gaius was watching him with pursed lips now, his eyebrows risen nearly to his hairline. "Sire?" he said again. "What are you doing?"

Arthur lifted a trembling hand, and reached for the window latch. His fingers felt numb, prickly, as though they'd fallen asleep. It took him two tries to unlatch it, and then the shutters were falling open, hitting the side of the castle with a muffled bang. Gripping the side of the windowsill for balance, Arthur leaned out the window, and held the Cup of Life out to the falling snow.

The first flake hit the silver rim and melted slowly, trailing wetly down the concave surface. Another followed, then another. It was too slow, though — the snow was falling too sparsely.

"Sniwe!" he heard a voice say. Only when his throat closed hollow and sore around the unfamiliar word did he realize it was his own.

"Arthur!" Gaius yelled, gripping his shoulder.

Arthur shook him off, his whole attention focused on the blizzard that was rising up around him. Snow fell in great clumps from the sky. It melted as soon as it hit the cup, splashing nearer and nearer to the brim each time. The Cup had grown warm in his hands, pulsing like a heart.

Turning from the window, Arthur nearly collided with Gaius, who stood behind him, frowning and hunched beneath his robes. He was speaking urgently to Arthur, but the words couldn't penetrate the fog of his brain. Patting Gaius's shoulder to reassure him, Arthur set the Cup of Life on Merlin's night table, and stepped away from it.

"Amel eftforgienesse!" he said, lifting his hand over the chalice. In the melted snow, he caught a glimpse of his own eyes flashing gold.

He turned to Merlin, so still and empty on the bed. Lifting the cup in a toast, he murmured, "Aethwierth gast," and drank.

The water hit his tongue like liquid lightning, stronger than the spirits in his father's storeroom. It tasted cold and sharp, like glacier water or pine-scented mountain air. His hair rose on end from the shock of it, and for a moment, he felt so giddy with life that he thought he might fly, if he could only stand.

"Arthur!" Gaius was yelling, his voice finally registering in Arthur's ears. "You don't know what it will do to you!"

He didn't know. He didn't care.

Leaning forward, he touched a hand to Merlin's cold, stiff cheek. Carefully, Arthur sealed his mouth over Merlin's, and let the water flow between them.

Merlin's eyes flew open, blazing with the same golden fire that coursed through Arthur's body. He drew in a breath that threatened to steal the last vestiges of air from Arthur's lungs. His lips softened, warmed beneath Arthur's. Merlin's mouth moved, weakly, like he was trying to speak, but it was soundless, weak. It felt like a kiss, and Arthur couldn't stop himself from pressing forward and running his tongue along the bow of Merlin's upper lip. It was damp, tasting of blood and melted snow. Arthur pulled back dizzily. Merlin murmured a wordless sigh, and followed, his lips seeking Arthur's. They kissed again, mouths opening to each other, and through the conduit of lips and tongues, Arthur felt the golden fire moving through him, back into Merlin where it belonged.

When it left him, he shuddered and gasped, slumping down against Merlin. The room was spinning around him, and he felt weak suddenly. Below him, Merlin's eyes had widened with alarm. Merlin was sitting up, shakily, ignoring Gaius's protests, his limbs tangling with Arthur's.

Merlin's lips were moving, forming Arthur's name, but he couldn't make out the sound over the rushing of blood in his ears. The last thing he felt was Merlin's arms wrapping around him, and then the world went dark.

* * *
Arthur woke to a hand brushing back his hair. Wearily, he opened his eyes, expecting to see Merlin, or maybe Gwen. But Uther was sitting by his bedside, dressed in black. The haunted expression on his face reminded Arthur of Gaius's face at Merlin's death bed, and he shuddered.

"Merlin?" he whispered, half afraid to know. The ride to the forest, the pact with Mordred, Merlin waking beneath his kiss -- it felt like something from a dream. Arthur thought his heart might break if he were wrong, if Merlin was still dead.

Uther laughed, a harsh and ragged sound, like shards of broken glass. "Your servant," he spat, "has recovered fully from the poison. He certainly hasn't spent the last day unconscious, as you have."

Arthur sank back against the pillows, limp with relief. "Thank God," he murmured.

Uther leaned forward with a murderous expression. "You used the Cup, Arthur!" he roared. For the first time since he'd lost his throne to Morgana, he sounded like his old self. "How could you betray me like this? After everything that this kingdom has gone through, you dare use the very instrument that our enemies used against us? And for a servant?"

"He's more than a servant to me," Arthur protested, struggling to sit up.

"You used magic!" Uther roared, throwing the word between them like a gauntlet. He was leaning forward, breathing heavily, sparked with life in a way that Arthur hadn't seen in months. His hatred of magic flared with the heat of a hundred funeral pyres, his rage reviving him in a way that none of Gaius's treatments had.

"Yes," Arthur said, feeling exhausted. "I used magic. And I'd do it again."

Uther stared at him, stricken, then stumbled to his feet. "Guards!" he yelled.

Yet when the door opened, it was Lancelot and Gwaine who entered. They stepped inside and stood calmly at attention, looking, not towards Uther, but at Arthur for instruction.

"Your majesty?" Gwaine asked calmly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving Arthur's. It was a king's title, and Uther turned purple at the use of it.

Arthur sighed. "Father," he said. "Please. Don't make me do this."

Uther looked from the knights to Arthur, speechless with betrayal and impotent rage. His old fire had dulled, and he was merely sputtering now, like a candle about to burn out. "You can't imagine," he said, his voice dripping venom, "what a terrible thing it is to have your own child betray you." Drawing himself up to his full height, he turned and swept out of the room in a way that was startlingly reminiscent of Morgana.

Arthur leaned back against the bed, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Gwaine sighed loudly, breaking the tension in the room. "Parents," he said. "What can you do with them?"

Lancelot turned to stare at him with a faintly scandalized expression, and Arthur felt his eyebrows rise. Gwaine's cheekiness reminded him so very much of Merlin in that moment that he almost wanted to hug him. Or maybe throw something. Instead, he drew himself back up.

"Leave me," Arthur said. "Don't let anyone else enter."

They nodded, and scooted out of the room, Lancelot with a sympathetic bow, and Gwaine with a pat on the back.

* * *
Arthur was peering out the window, one foot perched on the sill, when he heard the door open behind him. He didn't need to look to know that it was Merlin. Nobody else would get past Gwaine and Lancelot.

"You have the evening off," he said without turning.

Merlin, predictably, ignored him. His footsteps sounded on the floorboards. Behind him, Arthur heard the soft clank of a tray hitting the table, and the rattle of cutlery.

"I brought you dinner, Sire," Merlin said, sounding hesitant.

Giving into temptation, Arthur turned and looked at Merlin. He looked fragile, still, his cheekbones even more prominent than usual, with dark circles beneath his eyes. But he was alive. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and Arthur found himself fixating on the movement, fascinated. Merlin caught him staring, and blushed, busying himself with the wineskin's fastening.

"I wanted to thank you," Merlin said. "For . . ." He waved his hand vaguely, looking faintly ill.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, it would be a pity to saddle another servant with all of the work you've left unfinished."

"Oi!" Merlin said. "You and Gaius work me to the bone!"

Arthur flinched, reminded suddenly of Merlin lying dead on the workbench. Merlin frowned, and turned to pour the wine. Deciding that distraction was an excellent idea, Arthur lifted the lid from the platter to reveal roast chicken, mashed turnips, clustered grapes, mild cheese, and a hunk of dark bread.

"What? No rat tonight?"

"They were out," Merlin said, but a dark, brooding note lingered beneath the false cheer in his voice. He hesitated, drumming his fingers on the back of a chair and shooting sidelong glances at Arthur.

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur asked sharply.

Merlin looked up, face and voice suddenly serious. "Arthur," he started, and Arthur groaned, interrupting him.

"If this is about my father," he said, "don't even start."

Merlin's eyebrows flew up. "Your fath--? No! I mean, Lancelot and Gwaine told me what happened. But that's not . . ." he trailed off, looking uncertain.

"What, then?" Arthur asked, sipping his wine.

Merlin took a deep breath, as if steadying his courage. "What did you offer in return for my life?"

Arthur coughed, nearly choking on his wine, and Merlin had to step forward and pound his back. When he'd recovered enough to speak, Arthur twisted his napkin in his lap and said, "It was nothing."

Merlin glared at him, suddenly fierce. "It's a life for a life, Arthur!"

"Listen to you!" Arthur said. "You sound like you've never used the Cup yourself!" Merlin paled, and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't look so surprised," he said. "Gaius told me." Merlin glared, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. Arthur tore a savage bite from his roll. When the silence between them had grown tense enough, he asked, "So, who did you offer up?"

Merlin sighed. "It's complicated."

"So is this," Arthur announced, vindicated.

"Fine!" Merlin snapped. "You really want to know?" He planted his hands on the table, glaring down at Arthur. "You were dying from the Questing Beast's bite!" Arthur stared up at him, startled, but Merlin kept talking, his voice gaining momentum. "There was no way to cure you. I offered myself in your place, but instead, the gods tried to take my mother!" The roll fell from Arthur's hand, and rolled off the side of the table. "And then!" Merlin continued, growing louder, "Gaius snuck out ahead of me, and offered his life for mine, because I was going to offer myself in her place, you see."

Arthur frowned, trying to keep sense of everything. "But Gaius isn't dead."

"That's because I killed Nimueh instead!" Merlin yelled. "So don't try to tell me that it's not a big deal. I know better, Arthur!" He glared at Arthur, breathing heavily. Arthur stared back, stunned into silence. After a moment, Merlin seemed to deflate beneath his gaze. He sank into the chair beside Arthur, glaring down at the table. His hands were shaking.

Arthur shook his head, trying to make sense of everything Merlin had told him. Conflicting emotions chased each other through his head. Was he impressed? Upset? Angry? Relieved? He didn't know what he felt. He didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to shake Merlin, to scream at him for even thinking about giving his life that way. Part of him wanted to apologize for Hunith, for Gaius, for Merlin himself. Part of him wanted to thump Merlin on the shoulder and congratulate him for besting Nimueh, though Arthur had a niggling suspicion that Merlin just might incinerate him if he tried. Instead, Arthur poured another glass of wine, then one for Merlin. Slowly, quietly, he told him everything.

It went over about as well as he expected.

"You're insane!" Merlin said, rising to his feet and nearly spilling his wine as he slammed it down on the table. "Arthur, what on earth were you thinking?"

"I don't know," Arthur snapped. "That I didn't want to train another manservant?"

Merlin stared at him, dumbfounded, then pushed away from the table, pacing back and forth across Arthur's chambers like a caged bird. Arthur could practically feel the air thrumming around him. "I," Merlin started, then shook his head, exhaled sharply, and said, "Arthur, I never want you to die for me! I don't care if it's 23 years or 203! You can't!" His voice broke, and he wiped his eyes, his glare growing even more venomous through the unspilled tears. "I've spent the last five years protecting you, you arrogant arse! And now you just hand yourself to Mordred? For me? As if I would ever want to see you dead!"

He was shaking with anger, fighting back tears, and looking at him, Arthur felt suddenly more fond than he could bear. Taking a steadying breath to clamp down on his emotions, he stood, crossing to stand beside Merlin. The other man stiffened at his approach, but held his ground. Arthur stepped closer, near enough to feel the heat of Merlin's body. Then calmly, deliberately, he reached out and cuffed Merlin across the head.

"What was that for?" Merlin snapped, glaring at him.

"Because you, Merlin, are an idiot," Arthur drawled, smirking at the way Merlin puffed up indignantly. "You don't honestly think I only made that bargain for you, do you?"

"What, then?" Merlin snapped. "You just fancied dying at Mordred's hands?"

Arthur drew himself up as proudly as he could. "No," he said, "I did it for Camelot."
Merlin snorted, crossing his arms. The banter was starting to calm him. His breath was coming a tad more slowly, and his voice didn't sound quite as hysterical as he said, "That makes no sense, Arthur."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That's because you're a moron. You're a sorcerer!" Merlin paled slightly, but Arthur charged on. "And according to the Druids, you're not half bad at it."

"I'm brilliant!" Merlin protested, but Arthur ignored him.

Trying to sound as calm and collected as he would when outlining a campaign, he said, "For 23 years, Camelot has had a tactical disadvantage. My father --" he swallowed, bit his lip, and then continued. "My father's ban on magic left us defenseless against magical attacks. I've never agreed with him, there. If your enemy owns a sword, you'd damn well better learn to use a shield. " Forcing a smile, he reached out and clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "You, Merlin," he said, "are my shield. From now on, we're going to be unstoppable!"

Merlin just stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Then a small smile quirked his lips, and the tight, scared place in Arthur began to loosen. "You're that sure I'm going to help you," Merlin said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Please," Arthur said airily. "I know you're going to help me."

"I don't know," Merlin teased. "I might have something better to do."

"Like what? Wash my socks?"

"Washing your socks is a full-time job," Merlin said. "They're bloody disgusting." He was grinning now, dimples beginning to form, and Arthur felt an answering smile spread across his own face. He'd almost lost this, he thought, drinking in Merlin's smile. What would he have done without it? A decision that he hadn't even realized he'd been mulling over snapped into place, and Arthur straightened, becoming more serious. Merlin cocked his head at him, still smiling.

"You stood with me," Arthur said quietly. "At the round table." Merlin nodded curiously. Arthur forged ahead. "I knighted the others, but I didn't do anything for you."

Merlin wrinkled his nose. "Don't even think about making me a knight," he warned.

"As if I would!" Arthur hesitated, shy, but determined. Gathering his courage, he sank to one knee in front of Merlin.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked dubiously.

"Shut up, Merlin!" Arthur said. "I'm trying to --" he swallowed, cheeks burning.

Abandoning words entirely, he reached out and caught Merlin's hand. Merlin stared down at him, but let him take it. Arthur turned the hand in his grip, marvelling at Merlin's long, slim fingers, at the wonderful wamrth of his skin. Merlin wore no ring, so instead Arthur kissed the back of his knuckles. His lips lingered a bit longer than strictly necessary, as though, through them, he could impart some measure of the emotion bubbling up in his chest. I would do it again, he thought, pressing Merlin's hand to his cheek before releasing it. I would do anything for you.

Merlin remained quiet. The seconds passed, and finally, Arthur dared a glance up, thinking that if Merlin were laughing at him, so help him God, he would kill him all over again. But Merlin was looking down at him with shining eyes, tears rolling down his face. His lips were trembling, but he was smiling, beaming really, looking so radiantly happy, despite the tears, that Arthur's heart swelled at the sight of him. Cowed in the face of such naked joy, Arthur glanced away, then back again, quickly. How long had Merlin been waiting for some kind of acknowledgment? Arthur swallowed, abashed that it had taken Merlin's death for him to get it.

"Don't let it go to your head," Arthur mumbled, climbing to his feet. His ears were hot, and he couldn't quite meet Merlin's eyes.

A shaky laugh escaped Merlin. "Does this mean I still need to wash your socks?"

"Shut up," Arthur said, reaching over to muss his hair. Merlin blinked at him, eyes bright and impossibly blue. Arthur swallowed, realizing, for the first time, how close they'd moved. He could feel the warmth of Merlin's body, smell the green, medicinal scents of Gaius's workshop on him. His lips still tingled with the warmth of Merlin's hand, and he suddenly remembered the strange half-kiss that had brought Merlin back to life. Merlin swallowed, bright spots of colour flaring in his cheeks. Arthur wondered if he was thinking of it as well.

It was too much. He trembled, turning away.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. It burned through the thin fabric of Arthur's shirt, and he swallowed, longing to turn and take Merlin in his arms, to burrow close to that warmth, hold it, and never let it go.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the stone wall. "You should leave," he said.

Momentary silence, and then Merlin was drawing closer, a warm line against Arthur's back. "No," he said, after a moment's silence. "I don't think I will."

Figuring that he'd given Merlin as much warning as could possibly be expected of him, Arthur turned and caught hold of Merlin's neckerchief. Merlin met his eyes squarely, a bit confused, a bit defiant. Arthur hauled him close, and kissed him.

At first, the kiss was close-mouthed and chaste, like his kisses with Gwen always were. Tentatively, Merlin's arms wrapped around him. It felt nice, lovely and warm, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly. Arthur ran his tongue along Merlin's upper lip, as he had when reviving him, and Merlin's mouth opened for him again. At the first brush of their tongues, Arthur knew that he was lost.

He clung to Merlin, drinking him in, trying to say with his body what he couldn't manage aloud. I missed you, he said with pressure of his arms around Merlin. I need you, he said with a long, slow sweep of his tongue against Merlin's. I've never been so scared in my life, he said, burying his face in Merlin's neck and inhaling deeply before Merlin's fingers tilted his chin up for another kiss.

Merlin was taking the lead now, cradling Arthur's face in his hands. He licked into Arthur's mouth, and Arthur opened to him, letting Merlin's mouth, his hands, undo him as slowly and competently as he removed Arthur's armour after battle. It was like mulled wine in winter -- sweet, and warm, and deliciously wet. Arthur moaned into the kiss, and Merlin responded by pulling him closer, until the space between their bodies had vanished. The whole world shrunk to Merlin's narrow chest and wiry arms, the clever hands that were working their way inside Arthur's shirt to trace hot lines against the small of his back. Their legs slotted together, and Merlin's head fell back as Arthur's thigh pressed against the burgeoning hardness in his breeches.

A quiet, shuddering laugh escaped Arthur, and he grinned against Merlin's jaw, kissing him there because he could. Merlin sighed, tilting his chin up in invitation, and Arthur nuzzled into the fine skin of his throat. Merlin's neckerchief was in his way, so he tugged at it, fumbling with the knot until it finally came loose in his hand. The long expanse of Merlin's throat beckoned him. He flicked his tongue against the pulse throbbing in the base of Merlin's jaw, his hand closing over the back of Merlin's neck to hold him in place. Merlin drew in a quick, sharp breath. Humming his pleasure, Arthur closed his mouth over the spot, licking, and nibbling, and peppering it with tiny kisses. He worked his way down Merlin's neck and collarbone, and tugged the laces from the neckline of his shirt to reach his chest.

"Arthur," Merlin groaned, grinding himself in small circles against Arthur's thigh, as though he couldn't help himself. He was a beautiful wreck -- hair mussed, lips swollen, cheeks red from stubble burn, and a bruise already beginning to form on his neck. His belt was undone, though Arthur's brain was too fogged to even remember which of them had done it. His jacket was half off, dangling from one arm.

"Take that off," Arthur said, flicking the dangling sleeve of the jacket. "Take it all off."

Merlin nodded eagerly, sliding off his jacket and reaching for the hem of his shirt. Ripping off his own shirt, Arthur started for the bed, not daring to look back at Merlin lest he get distracted from the task at hand. He stepped out of his trousers, hearing Merlin inhale sharply behind him as he bent to fumble in the nightstand. After a moment, he found it, hidden beneath a handkerchief in the back of the drawer: the tiny jar of salve he'd purloined from Gaius because it felt so good to slick his hand up before thrusting into his fist at night.

He'd never tumbled another man. His dalliances with women had been few, all whores and barmaids in villages far from Camelot. But he'd stumbled across two of his knights in a forest once. He'd read Martial and Catallus. He knew what men did to one another. Cradling the jar, Arthur turned, and let his eyes sweep over Merlin's naked body.

Merlin was all lines and angles, long limbs, jutting hipbones, sharp knees and elbows. His prick, as long and slender as the rest of him, jutted up from the dark patch of hair between his legs. Arthur longed to wrap his hand around it, to taste the pre-come glistening at the tip. But he'd mapped out the plan of attack in his mind already, and Arthur didn't like to deviate from his plans. Blushing furiously, he thrust the little pot at Merlin, who took it, wide-eyed.

Arthur met his eyes, refusing to look away, despite the burning heat in his cheeks. "Will you fuck me?" he asked, scarcely recognizing his own voice.

Merlin just stared at him for a second, speechless, and then he was stumbling forward, pulling Arthur into a kiss. Arthur gasped at the heat of Merlin's bare chest flush against his own, the wet slide of his prick against Merlin's flat stomach. Merlin's kisses were frantic, eager. He took one step forward, then another, crowding Arthur, propelling him backwards in a tangle of bare limbs and hot, firm skin until the bed caught Arthur behind the knees. He lay back, drawing Merlin down along him. Merlin went willingly, sliding over him, solid, warm, and deliciously alive.

"Merlin," Arthur groaned. "God, Merlin. Please."

Drawing back a little, Merlin looked down at Arthur, and tapped the lid of the jar. "Have you done this before?" he asked.

"What do you think?" he snapped. Merlin just looked at him, calm and a little disappointed. Arthur sighed, looking away. "I haven't." A sudden flash of jealousy hit him, and he propped himself up on his elbows, nearly dislodging Merlin. "Why? Have you?"

Merlin shrugged. "A few times."

"Who?" Arthur demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"Will," Merlin said. He glanced at Arthur sidelong, and added, "Um . . . and Lancelot. And Gwaine."

"Both of them?!"

"Not at the same time!" Merlin snapped, defensively, and Arthur's mind boggled at the very thought. "It only happened the once with Lancelot! A few years ago, when he first arrived. And Gwaine and I, we're just mates. We've done it a few times for fun, is all."

Arthur shot him a warning glance. "We," he warned, "are not mates, Merlin."

Merlin laughed, a little breathlessly, and squeezed Arthur's hand. "I know," he said. A giddy smile touched his face, and he ducked his head, as if to hide it. "Believe me," he said. "I know." Charmed despite himself, Arthur reached to touch his cheek. Merlin nuzzled into the touch, kissing Arthur's palm. "They were before you," he promised. His cheeks flared red again, and he said, "And, well, if it helps, I was always on the other end of things with both of them."

It did help, for some reason, although Arthur had no idea why. Lying back on the mattress, he met Merlin's eyes.

"Do it," he said gruffly.

Merlin nodded, opening the jar. The sweet scent of chamomile and lavender filled the room. Merlin scooped a finger into the jar, and Arthur closed his eyes, face burning. Merlin leaned down to kiss him, and Arthur accepted it gratefully. Merlin went gently, circling his hole lightly before pushing inside, but Arthur hissed just the same.

"Relax," Merlin soothed, running a hand down his flank. Arthur nodded, gritting his teeth as Merlin drew the finger out before pressing in again. How they were going to fit Merlin's cock in there, he had no idea. For his part, Merlin looked a bit concerned, too, frowning down at the place where his finger disappeared inside Arthur's body. Finally, he nodded once, decisively. "Right then," said Merlin. "Plan B." He withdrew his finger.

"What are you --?" Arthur started, but Merlin quieted him.

"Let's try this," Merlin murmured, and leaned forward to close his mouth over the weeping tip of Arthur's prick. The sudden shock of wet heat flooded his veins, and he sighed blissfully, rolling his hips up into it.

"Merlin," he groaned appreciatively, as Merlin kissed and licked the length of him. Merlin pulled back to kiss the head, almost chastely, before plunging down completely, drawing Arthur into his throat. Arthur gasped, rising onto his elbows to watch. Merlin was beautiful like this, his kiss-swollen mouth stretched taut around Arthur's girth, his eyes heavy-lidded, dark with desire. Tangling a hand in Merlin's hair, Arthur lay back, surrendering himself to the gentle suction of Merlin's mouth, the steady rise and fall of his head. Merlin drew up, then down again, slicking in a finger as he swallowed Arthur's length. Arthur tensed, but not for long, as Merlin hummed deep in his throat.

"Oh fuck," Arthur whispered, shuddering. He could barely think through the vibration of Merlin's throat around his cock. Even the finger was starting to feel good, pressing firmly back and forth inside him. Arthur found himself rocking in time to it. "More," he gasped.

Merlin slipped the finger out, and returned with two in its place. Arthur groaned at the increased stretch, pressing his knees further apart to give Merlin more room to manouvre.

"Yes," he whispered, falling back into the delicious rhythm -- up into the wet heat of Merlin's mouth, down to the steady press of his fingers. When Merlin added a third, it was almost too much. He bit his lip, throwing his head back against the pillow. But then Merlin reached deep inside him, brushing against a spot that sent a shiver of lightning down Arthur's spine, while at the same time, sucking hard on the very tip of Arthur's prick.

"Shit!" Arthur groaned, arching his spine and bearing down on the fingers inside him. "Shit, Merlin! Stop, or I'm going to --"

Merlin pulled away from Arthur's prick with an obscene slurp, a string of saliva connecting them. He wiped his mouth, and grinned at Arthur, utterly beautiful.

"Ready?" he asked. At Arthur's nod, he rose shakily to his feet, his swollen prick dark against the pale skin of his stomach. Merlin was stroking it with one hand, slicking it with salve. The mingled scents of sweat, herbs, and pre-come was heady, almost intoxicating. Arthur closed his eyes, breathing it in until the gentle touch of Merlin's fingers on his hip called him back to himself. "Roll over," Merlin murmured, stroking gentle circles on Arthur's skin. "It's easier on your hands and knees, the first time."

Blushing furiously, Arthur did as he asked, spreading his knees and raising his arse in the air. He felt horribly exposed, open, hard, and so obviously waiting to be fucked. But Merlin was staring at him with awe in his eyes.

"Arthur," he breathed, almost wonderingly. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to one arse cheek, then the other. "You're beautiful like this," Merlin whispered quietly, reverently.

Climbing onto the bed and kneeling between Arthur's spread legs, Merlin stroked his flank soothingly and murmured, "Here we go."

The first press hurt more than the fingers had. Arthur fisted his hands, wincing at the tight stretch of muscle around the invading head of Merlin's prick. He gritted his teeth, burying his face in the mattress. His erection wilted beneath the pain.

"Okay?" Merlin asked, easing in another half inch. Arthur grunted, spreading his legs and willing himself to open, to fit Merlin into his body as he'd fit him, so completely, into the rest of his life. He was glad now, that Merlin couldn't see his face. He guessed that his expression didn't look very encouraging.

"Do it," Arthur said through his teeth. "For God's sake, Merlin! Just --"

"All right," Merlin said, stroking his hip. "Relax."

He pushed forward slowly without stopping. Arthur inhaled sharply, his arms trembling slightly from the strain of holding himself up. It felt like being impaled, like being split in two. But Arthur had faced pain worse than this, and so he only bore down on it, taking it, taking Merlin, until his balls nestled snug against Arthur's arse.

"How are you doing?" Merlin asked, running his hand down Arthur's back. Arthur could feel him trembling with the effort it took to hold back.

"Fine," Arthur said. "It's fine." With a shaking hand, he reached behind himself to touch the place where their bodies were joined. "Oh," he whispered, wonderingly, stroking the base of Merlin's prick and the tight seal of his body around it.

"I know," Merlin whispered, leaning forward to kiss the base of his spine. "It's amazing, isn't it?" He gave an experimental roll of his hips, and Arthur gasped, gripping the blankets beneath his hand. Merlin's hands slid over his hip in a soothing caress. "It gets better," he promised, and slowly began to move.

After a few thrusts, the excruciating pain of the initial breach faded, dulled. Arthur felt sore and stretched, and uncomfortably like he had to use the chamber pot. But Merlin kept rocking into him, whispering, "Yes, Arthur," and "Oh, you feel good!" Arthur felt himself relaxing more and more with every thrust, until he realized that he was bucking back to meet each press of Merlin's hips.

Merlin pressed down gently between his shoulder blades, and Arthur followed the gentle pressure, letting his head and chest fall to the mattress, leaving his arse raised like an offering. "That's right," Merlin breathed against his back, kissing him there. "Just like that."

His next thrust pressed him hard against the spine-tingling spot he'd found with his fingers, and Arthur groaned in surprise, writhing beneath him. It was like magic, he thought, like the charged water from the Cup of Life. He buried his face in the pillow and surrendered himself to it, to the liquid heat pooling in his spine and the steady snap of Merlin's hips. Each thrust curled Arthur's toes and coaxed a low keen out of his throat, and he thought that he'd never in his life been half this happy. Merlin had been dead, but now he was back, he was fucking Arthur, taking him, reaching deeper and deeper inside him with each press of his hips, so joined, in that moment, that nothing could tear them apart again.

Keeping one hand steady on Arthur's hip for balance, Merlin reached around to fist Arthur's renewed erection, dragging his hand in time to the rhythm of their coupling. His hand was dry, hot, and almost too much, and Arthur felt his balls tightening, the promise of imminent relief almost painful in its intensity.

"Give it to me, Arthur," Merlin growled, working him steadily, inside and out. "I want to see you come." The words were like a turning key inside him. In the next moment, Arthur gasped, arching his spine.

"Merlin!" he groaned, as his first hot streams of semen striped his chest and stomach. The long-fingered hand on his prick milked him through it, squeezing every last drop until Arthur lay shaky and limp on the mattress. Clutching Arthur's hips with both hands, Merlin started to move with manic intensity, quick and shallow thrusts that left Arthur whimpering breathlessly in the pool of his own come, his body so sensitized that each of Merlin's movements registered somewhere between pleasure and pain. He scrabbled back for Merlin's hips, urging him on. Merlin's sigh was warm and moist against his back as he came inside of Arthur, his hips still moving in small, maddening circles. Arthur shuddered his pillow, reaching for Merlin's hand as he collapsed on top of him, sweaty and limp.

For a long moment, they could only lie there, back to chest, Merlin's spent prick still buried inside of Arthur. Finally, Merlin rolled off with a groan, Arthur wincing as he pulled free of his body. Turning onto his back, Arthur opened his arms and pulled Merlin down against his chest. He felt like he did after battle -- flushed and victorious.

This wasn't as easy as a tournament, Arthur knew, and in the morning, there would be hell to pay for this, for each hot puff of Merlin's breath against his sweat-damp skin, for the easy curl of Merlin's finger into his own. There was Uther, after all, half mad and sure to challenge Arthur's right to the throne. Somewhere out there was Morgana herself, planning her revenge. There was Mordred, and a battlefield twenty-three years in the future.

But Arthur had the throne. He had the Cup of Life. He had twenty-three years, if he lived that long, and a kingdom to rebuild. He had Merlin.

"Don't you ever leave me again," Arthur whispered into Merlin's damp hair, holding him closely, fiercely.

Merlin returned the embrace with equal fervor, pressing his face into Arthur's shoulder. "I won't," he promised.

Feeling Merlin's heart beat beneath his hand, Arthur allowed himself to believe it.

The End

Comments

[nix-this.livejournal.com]

Oh um...

Yeah.

Bunk. *waves distractedly* In there.

God - that was amazing. And heart breaking. And really bloody hot.

<3

[kerryblaze.livejournal.com]

Great work linking Arthur giving his life for Merlin's and linking it to his ultimate demise.

[venivincere]

Oh, my heart was in my throat thinking that Merlin may not make it back to the land of the living. And then the way Arthur accomplished it in the end, drawing Merlin's magic into himself and casting the spells... WOW. It blew me away. Well done!

[marguerite-26.livejournal.com]

SQUEEE!!!! I love love love this fic. I love the plot, the way you use the turmoil left in S3, the cup and the druids! I love creepy as fuck Mordred and Arthur willingly making a deal with the devil there. And such a clever deal that was! I love the way Merlin is brought back and the ultimate UNF ending. *clutches fic to chest*

[chicaintcheap.livejournal.com]

Oooh my, what a satisfying read! Quite sad in the beginning, but really worth it in the end; you captured all the emotions brilliantly, and I loved the smooth transition from sad to happy to downright sexy. And bottom!Arthur is always a pleasant surprise. Beautiful work :)

[archaeologist-d.livejournal.com]

Loved that Arthur bargained with Mordred for Merlin's life. At least they are both safe for the moment. Great job.

[sabriel75.livejournal.com]

Very nice usage of Arthurian legend and having Mordred coming to Arthur's aid.

Lovely plot and boys again. :D

[forest-rose.livejournal.com]

Oh, I love how you tied this into legend!

[reni-m.livejournal.com]

First off, thank you so much for my lovely present! This was a fantastic adventure story!

The way you tied in the traditional legend and the story canon was wonderfully done. I always wondered how Mordred was going to go from peaceful druid boy to Arthur’s undoing. Very cleverly done. Those darn youngins have no respect for elders. Though it makes me wonder if Mordred had an ulterior motive for helping Arthur out besides bringing about his eventual death.

I have to say one of my favorite parts is at the end when Uther confronts Arthur. I loved the whole comparison to a dying flame, and leaving the room like Morgana! Makes me feel bad for Uther … an unfortunate taste of his own medicine.

You hit the nail on the head with one of my hidden kinks of magic!Arthur. That was a wonderful surprise and completely badass.

Thank you for the display of equal power and loyalty between the boys! If only the show would acknowledge that.

Thank you again!

[emeraldsword.livejournal.com]

"And you will be great, Arthur. How would you rather pass? As an old man, doddering away while your kingdom moves forward without you, waiting for you to die and your heir to replace you? Or as a warrior, at the height of your reign, struck dead nobly, on the battlefield by my hand? Old men die forgotten, Arthur. But that death? Stories will be told about it centuries from now."
I LOVE this line. Enjoyed the rest of the story, but this was just perfect. Really nice job, well done.

[kathyh]

Wow! I absolutely loved this story. I think you hit more or less every kink I've got - use of the original legends, Arthur saving Merlin, Arthur doing magic and bottom!Arthur. The ghost girl helping Arthur was beautifully creepy as was Mordred and I really liked that you used both Gaius and Uther too. Great to see a post-Season 3 fic too, which I can imagine as canon. Great story :)

[starlollie.livejournal.com]

*clapping*
Wow awesome plot!!!
Oh Arthur cares so much :)
Such a hot ending!
Overall loveliness overflows from this.

[besamislabios]

Oh I loved this!!! The plot was amazing, and the deal with Mordred, so creepy and brilliant. The ending was beautiful and so hot!! Wonderful read. ♥

[heehee11.livejournal.com]

Nice to see a ff happening after S3 and using it as a foundation to construct the story towards the actual arthurian legend. I absolutely love Merlin's confession of having slept with Lancelot, Gwaine and Will. It cuts the whole serious feeling your ff has and makes a break.

[minnie0707.livejournal.com]

Canon and legend and Magic!Arthur - OH MY!! Bringing Mordred in that way was brilliant! This story is wonderful even without the smokin' hot porn.

[scabbyfish.livejournal.com]

That was great - I so felt for poor Arthur as he tried to save Merlin D: And clever to use the deal with Mordred in that way!

[sparklespiff]

This was fantastic. Thank you so much for sharing it with us!

[shoshele04.livejournal.com]

Oh my goodness. You know that feeling you get when you've been reading a mystery novel or something similar and suddenly everything you've been wondering about this whole time just slots quietly into place? Yeah. That's this fic, slotting into my heart. Ouch. (in a good way)

Also, I absolutely loved the fact that Arthur wasn't perturbed by his feelings for Merlin (and even thought of Martial and Catullus!). Two men together didn't always used to be so frowned upon, after all, and I'm glad you mentioned that.

[thisgirl-is.livejournal.com]

Oh man, that was brutal. The deathbed scene was genuinely touching, and Arthur's grief was devastating. I love that you set up the battle between Mordred and Arthur. Most of the fics I've read have a Happily Ever After ending, but this story doesn't have a happy ending. And I love that a) you set that up, and b) you made it kind of worth it - a conscious decision that Arthur makes rather than a sad story of things going badly wrong.

And the sex was scorching. I <3 me some Arthur on the bottom. :oD

[sunny-rainfall.livejournal.com]

gosh 23 years that's so little :(
but those years are gonna be glorious :D

[amythystluna.livejournal.com]

Okay, so somehow I missed this last year. But gah, FANTASTIC *_* The plot points were simply fabulous (magic-using!Arthur! SQUEEE!!! Mordred-striking-a-deal --OMG, what a great idea!) And yeah, the ending was HOT *fans self*

[exx-cecilegr.livejournal.com]

Such a touching story. Really nicely written! Thank you for writing and sharing. :D