![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
merlin-hols.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
merlin_holidaysTitle: From The Mouths of Children Come Truth
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
faynia
Author:reiya_wakayama
Rating: R
Pairings: ArthurxMerlin
Word Count: 7,527
Warnings: Slash, language, future!fic, father!Arthur, wall!sex, aphrodisiacs usage(with no bad fallout after), a few season 1, 2, and the first two episodes of 3 spoilers, references to the original legend, reincarnation, confrontation with Morgana about post season 2 events.
Summary: Future AU, slash, A/M, They say a picture has a thousand words, but unlike a picture, it’s not what is shown but what is written between the lines that is most important. Can two figures from times past read between the lines of their own history to see what is truly important?
Author's Notes:Happy Holidays dear and I hope you like my fic for you. I tried to work with as much of what you wanted as I could, but some had to be thrown out. Sorry, but I did get some inspirations from the rest so here is your fic. Enjoy!
A/N: I don’t know what the Library of London looks like, if it even exists with that name, so just pretend it is right and go along with the story.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
xXx
The silence was overwhelming for any who had never been in its presence before. But to him, it was like an enveloping blanket, comforting him as he moved from shelf to shelf, books as far as the eye could see on so many subjects that one could not even contemplate them all, let alone try and read them.
The Library of London was a timeworn place. Built so many years ago for some lord or another, it had changed hands until at last, some hundred years ago, it had come into the hands of a very wealthy nobleman who converted the old Victorian styled building into the library it was now.
Only in the last twenty or so years had it been brought up to date of the current century, with electric lighting, AC and heating, and lines for internet with brand new computers standing proud and out of place in this timeless place of learning. He could admit that they were useful, but he preferred the books to anything else.
For ten years now, he had lived and worked among these books, learning as much history as he could. When looked at, he would pass as a man in his late twenties, maybe early thirties…except when you looked into deep blue eyes, all you could see was time itself and knowledge of things unknown in this day and age.
None knew of the secret knowledge buried deep in his heart, the knowledge of who he had been so many centuries ago. Merlin Kalenson, age twenty-six, had once lived the life of Merlin Emrys. Ironic, the name, but he never questioned fate. If he looked in a mirror, he could see his old self overshadowing his face in the mirror. Not much had changed since that past life. His hair was still a lustrous black, if a little longer. Eyes still blue, if a little darker and skin as pale as it had once been. He even still had those damn large ears that had plagued his lives.
Shaking his head, he continued to push his cart ahead of him, wheeling his load of books to the next shelf across the aisle. Libraries hadn’t changed that much since his life in Camelot. It was certainly more organized, the books lasting longer and made of better materials, but the smell was still the same.
The smell of old books and leather, a musk rising up off of the pages to tickle at the nose with dust caught between the pages. Moving down the row, he shelved the bound volumes with practiced ease, never breaking step as the books disappeared from the cart.
Finished, he turned around and started back towards the front desk where he normally sat when not shelving books. He was halfway there when a voice called out, shattering the quiet of the room. “Look out!” He didn’t have time to react as something small barreled into him, knocking him over.
He looked down to see a small blonde head lying on his stomach. It looked up to show bright blue green eyes that were suspiciously wet and a protruding lower lip that quivered ever so slightly. “Are you alright?” he asked the child softly.
Before he could answer, the sound of running feet made them look up. A man, presumably his father, stopped beside them, bright blonde hair disheveled and suit jacket coming off of one shoulder. Seeing their curious glances, he straightened up, jerking his jacket back into place and running his fingers through his hair to tame it.
He looked down at the blonde boy. “Aaron, what have I told you about running inside?” he said slightly cross at the boy.
“But I just wanted‒”
“No buts. You know you can’t run indoors. Now apologize.” He stared his son down before the boy backed down.
Small shoulders sagging, he got up off of Merlin with a sigh. Turning, he looked at the brunette. “I’m sorry for running into you and knocking you over.”
“It’s alright, it was an accident. I’m guessing you were excited about getting a new book?” he asked with a smile at the boy.
The boy nodded vigorously, blonde locks flying in his energetic display. “It just came in, and I want to get it before everyone else, so Papa drove me over here right after school got out.”
Smiling, he hauled himself up off the floor and looked down at the boy. “What book is it? I’ll show you where it is.”
“You work here?” he asked with amazement evident in his voice. Merlin nodded. “It’s called ‘The Tale of Merlin the Great’.”
Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the title. He’d lived the life of Merlin, and he couldn’t remember anyone calling him great, but this was a children’s fiction book so it was understandable. His father snorted at the name, but said nothing.
“Well, you’re just in luck; it just came in and is waiting to be shelved. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll get it for you.” They started back up the aisle, Aaron chattering away; in an inside voice after his father chastised him for speaking to loud.
They reached the front desk and he circled around it, depositing his cart with the others before he went into the back, scanning the newest additions for the boy’s book. Pulling it out, he glanced down at the cover. It was brightly colored, an image of an old man in robes and a pointed hat adorned the picture, his white beard contrasting with them.
Again, he couldn’t remember ever having a beard during his last life. If anything, he’d have wanted a beard of his own, but you couldn’t argue with your genes. Straightening, he headed back out, book in tow.
He looked around for the boy, but he had disappeared. His father stood at the desk patiently waiting for Merlin to come back with the book so he could check it out. The blonde looked slightly apologetic about this. “Sorry again, about earlier.”
“It’s alright, these things happen. Do you have a card?” He nodded and dug out his wallet to find his card.
“I’m Arthur Carrington,” he said as Merlin scanned the card to bring up his account. He quickly scanned it; he had to admit that computers made it easier to keep track of books like this. He arched a brow at the name but said nothing as he held out a hand for the book. Quickly scanning its barcode, he handed it back with a receipt with its due date printed on the flimsy white paper. “Your name?” Arthur asked.
“Huh, oh, Merlin Kalenson.” For the first time since his run in with the small blonde boy, he really looked at the man. Tall, bright flaxen locks, the heavy build of someone who works out, bright blue eyes, his dark blue suit cut to fit him, and an annoyed look as he scanned for his errant son, completed the look. If Merlin hadn’t known better, this man could have been his Arthur’s double.
Except he could see the subtle differences. Straight, even teeth, hands calloused in all the wrong places, eyes more a gray blue than sky blue. There was an air of arrogance around the man, and from his clothes, he wasn’t poor.
“How long have you worked here?” he asked him.
“Hmm, just about ten years now.”
“Why have I never seen you at any of the charity banquets? Or any of the other events the library holds?” he asked, confusion clear on his face as he tried to place Merlin in his appropriate place in his mind. Merlin arched a brow. “My family’s a benefactor of the library,” he explained, waiting for Merlin to answer his question.
“I’m more comfortable around books then other people. And they’re not mandatory, so I don’t go,” he explained, turning away to empty out the turn-in bin. They were silent as Merlin checked in the returned books.
“You must really love it here,” Arthur said aloud, not looking at Merlin as he watched his son talking with some other child.
“I love the books,” he told him.
Arthur seemed to space out for a few minutes before he shook himself back into the present. “Well, Merlin, it was nice meeting you.” He nodded to the brunette before walking over to his son and extracting him from his conversation with the other child.
Merlin followed his path through the library until the front doors cut off any view of them. He jerked around when something rattled behind him. Gwen, one of the summer volunteers, smiled in apology for making him jump. “I’m here to relieve you.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a smile and left the area of the front desk. He quickly headed for the back of the library, where the books on history were located. Walking through it, he quickly selected the books he wanted. A pile in his arms, he headed for the front desk and checked them out before heading home.
He had already read these books, but he still liked to read them as a reminder of what had passed. His small flat was dark and empty, only a few pieces of furniture adorned the main room. His bedroom was a different matter. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books of all sizes and colors, ranging from a few dozen pages to well into the hundreds.
Setting his stack down, he crawled onto his king size bed, a luxury to the small bed he’d slept in before. What could he say; some whims just had to be indulged. Curling up against his mound of pillows and tucking his feet underneath the thick comforter, he pulled the first book in the stack towards himself, opening to the title page. The ink, although printed, was small and squashed together, though the title was large and bolded. It read ‘Le Morte de Arthur’. He was soon lost in it, the present ignored for memories of the past.
“I want you to clean my boots, muck out my stables, polish my armor…”
Merlin glared up at the ceiling, annoyed at being woken. Sunlight still peeked through his heavily curtained window, announcing that he should still be asleep. He turned to glance blearily at his clock. He wasn’t supposed to be up for another couple of hours.
Sighing, he sat up and shoved aside his book from last night. His foul mood had more to do with his latest dream then his early awakening. His memories from when he’d first met Arthur, although amusing, were still not pleasant. The hours Arthur had spent torturing him with chores had left a very bad flavor in his mind.
Shoving the heavy blanket aside, he stumbled through the room to his small bathroom to shower and shave. Routine was an easy thing to keep going, and he was out of the bathroom and seated at his small kitchen table with a cup of strong tea before he finally noticed his surroundings.
Frowning into his cup he glanced at the clock. He didn’t have to be at the library for another couple of hours. He worked the night shifts on the weekends, going through everything that needed doing before the library opened up again in the morning. The fact that he got the entire library to himself was an added bonus.
He saw his book from last night sitting on the table, moved there due to autopilot of the brain. Frowning, he recalled the story in it. It was about him and Arthur and everyone else he could think of. Except it was wrong.
For one thing, Merlin had never been an old man. If anything, he’d died quiet young at the age of twenty-five, one less than this life. As for Mordred being Arthur and Morgana’s incestuous child, if he could, he would beat that idea out of the author’s head. For one thing, he and Morgana couldn’t stand each other like that, and that Arthur would have had to be a child to have sired the boy was another improbability.
As for Morgana, well, that was someone he would rather not contemplate. Things tended to break if he did. Lancelot had not been a noble and knight, and they never seemed to mention the large scaly, fire-breathing dragon that had been chained beneath the castle. Nor did they mention the blood bathed purge that Uther had instigated.
No, there were much dissimilarity between what had happened and what had been written. There were many similarities as well, like Arthur’s courage, Lancelot’s loyalty, Gwen’s kindness. Morgana’s…
No, not going there.
He pulled the book closer, absently opening it to a random page and staring blankly as he remembered his past.
He staggered under the heavy load of armor, weaponry and a tray of food as he headed for his master’s chambers. The fact that the sun had yet to rise made no difference when chores needed to be done.
Hands full and following long established routine, he edged the door open with his shoulder, walking inside to set down his burden and shut the door. Arthur lounged on his bed, head buried underneath a pillow and blankets tangled around his waist and legs.
Walking quietly, he strode over to his prince. “Arthur.” He shook his shoulder gently. The blonde started and turned over to glare blurrily at him. “Time to rise. You need to be ready for the council meeting the king said you must sit in.” The blonde groaned but did not turn back over.
Merlin smiled fondly at the memory. In comparison to later days, those first few years had been very pleasant indeed, attacks and all. It appeared his thoughts were still centered on the rotten core from his past, leading to things he couldn’t and wouldn’t contemplate.
Sighing, he stood. He might as well leave now. Getting there early would give him time to get his area set up. He quickly flushed his mug with water, cleaning it and setting it up to dry. Grabbing his wallet, he headed for the door, hurrying to catch the bus he knew came by around this time.
He actually arrived later than he had been expecting. There had been an accident on the road and it held up his bus, making it half an hour late on its route. The library was just starting to shut down, most of the patrons leaving with their books in tow.
He ascended the steps two at a time, impatient for the few stragglers to leave before he could finish locking up. Gwen waved at him in hello and farewell as she gathered her stuff, her boyfriend, Lance, waiting for her. Yes, ironic, wasn’t it? The original star-crossed lovers reunited. It didn’t matter to him one way or another, but he wondered if they were like him and remembered.
Waiting at the front desk, he watched the last of the people inside leave and quickly shut and locked the front door. Quiet reigned supreme here and he reveled in it. Pocketing his keys, he went to work, the routine of ten years setting in.
He craned around the stack of books in his arms, looking for the last thing he needed to take down. His gaze steadily going higher on the shelf as he searched until at last he spotted it on the very top shelf, just out of reach of even his long limbs.
Shifting the books into one arm, he reached up, standing on tiptoes, to gain a few extra inches. It remained just out of reach, his fingertips bare millimeters away. Sighing in exasperation, he reached inside, calling out the magic which had been passed onto him in this life, though much reduced.
The book inched forward until at last it slid into his out stretched hand. He jumped as someone coughed behind him, books flying everywhere as he lost his balance and wind milled his arms.
His magic, already called forth, reacted to the moment, slowing time down until the books hung suspended in midair. He looked up to see serious blue eyes regarding him back, taking in the scene before them.
His stomach did a sort of flip-flop as he let the magic go and the books landed with a clatter of bindings and a rustle of pages. He sat on the floor, staring up at Arthur, too stunned by this sudden development to do anything to explain away what had just happened.
As it happened, he didn’t need to. Arthur’s next words left him speechless and confused. “I thought it was you.” Merlin stared at him in bewilderment. What the hell was he talking about? He should be freaking out by now, trying to explain away the magic he had just seen, not mystifying him with vague statements.
“What?” Came the expected line.
“Come now, Merlin. I know you were an idiot, but you can’t be that dense.” He ignored Merlin’s ‘Oi!’ and continued, “You must have guessed by now.”
Merlin just stared up at him, lost beyond belief. It wasn’t his fault, shock does that to people. Arthur stared back. Finally he gave a large sigh. “Merlin, you really are an idiot.”
Shock washed through him again, making him tense up at the inflection on his name. Only one person had ever said it that way and he was long since dead…or was supposed to be. “No…” he said, disbelieving.
“Give the man a prize. Idiot,” he said in exasperation.
Merlin’s brain disconnected with his mouth and random patches of words just spewed forth. “You…no…how is that…it can’t be…” Finally he settled on one sentence. “What the hell, you prat?”
The whole time, Arthur had been steering him towards a table and some chairs, shoving him into a seat before taking his own. “I’m still your king, Merlin. Let’s keep the insolence to a minimum,” Arthur drawled at him. “As to your last eloquent statement, I just now put the pieces together after seeing you little stunt back there.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, and then Merlin jerked back as if slapped, eyes going wide as he just seemed to recall doing in front of this man. He’d used magic in front of Arthur. His hands started to tremble as panic set in, mind whirling around, trying to find some excuse, something to down play what he’d done.
“Merlin, Merlin! Calm down.” Arthur had come to stand beside him, shaking his shoulder to get his attention. He took a few deep breaths, reining in his panic until it was under lock and key. He braced himself for the disgust, hatred, look of betrayal, anything.
Arthur just remained quiet and finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He looked up at the blonde, wanting‒no needing‒ to see his expression. His face was calm, though stoic, giving nothing away behind those gray blue eyes.
He looked away, turning eyes onto hands that had become the most fascinating thing in the world at the moment. He fidgeted guiltily under the piercing stare the blonde was giving him. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.
“What for?” He seemed to genuinely want to know.
“For…hiding it and not telling you. I had planned to, but then everything went out of control and she…it all…I’m sorry,” he finished again.
“I would have liked for you to have finally trusted me enough to tell, but I have a bit of a confession to make. I’ve known about it for some time now,” he admitted.
“What! How? When?” Merlin looked up at him, gaping at the small smirk on his prince’s face.
“Come now, Merlin. I was the best knight in Camelot. You’re stupid to think I wouldn’t put two and two together eventually. As to when, it was a few months after the questing beast. When you saved that woman from the runaway cart. I saw you as I was walking by.”
Merlin let out a groan and thumped his head on the table, hard. “So you’re saying, all this time you knew, and never said anything?” Arthur nodded. “All those excuses I made to you. You must have thought I was an even bigger idiot.”
“There were a few times.” Merlin glanced up at this. “As if you could ever stop me with a branch, Merlin,” he told him, referring to Sophia and Aulfric. “What were they by the way?” he asked curious.
“Sidhe, a type of fey folk. Aulfric had killed another Sidhe and was sentenced to live a mortal life, as was his daughter. He wanted to sacrifice your heart to let his daughter back into Avalon,” he explained, exasperated with himself.
Arthur glanced at his watch. “Well, since it appears you have some time on your hands, start from the beginning. I want to hear every detail about what you’ve done with your magic.” Merlin gulped softly, but did as commanded, telling of every instant he had used magic to save Arthur and Camelot.
Merlin stared blankly ahead as he sat behind the front desk at the library. Two months had gone by since he and Arthur had reacquainted with each other and now their lives were just as intertwined as they had been in their past life.
If they weren’t meeting somewhere at a café or coffee shop, Arthur was appearing at the library, mostly when Merlin worked at night, but even during the day time. Sometimes, he brought his son along, sometime not.
That was the strangest part about this new Arthur. In the past, he’d never gotten around to having children. And though the legend said he married Gwen, it wasn’t true. Yes, there had been some feelings between them, but her love for Lancelot had outweighed her love for Arthur, and Arthur, being the gentlemen he was, had backed down. They had remained close friends until the end, but their romance had never been meant to be.
He jumped, knocked out of his wool gathering, as something hard landed in front of him. A burley man in a black delivery uniform stood before him. “You Merlin?” he asked impatiently when Merlin didn’t say anything.
“Ah, yes,” he answered hesitantly.
“Sign here please.” He held out an electronic clipboard. Taking the plastic pen, he scrawled his name hastily. The man snatched it back and left hastily, probably late with his deliveries.
Merlin glanced down at the package. Wrapped in plain brown paper, and twine, it had no return address. He glanced around quickly, but no one was nearby. Most had left due to the nearing closing time. Those that were there hadn’t even glanced up as the man spoke. Reassured no one had seen, he quickly went into the back and tucked it into his bag.
He stepped off the bus into the gloom of the evening outside his building. He quickly walked to the front, and unlocking the front gate, slipped inside. Ignoring the elevators, they were broken anyways; he climbed the stairs, six flights in total.
He nearly dropped his bag in shock at the person leaning against the wall next to his door. Sighing in annoyance, he pulled out his keys, ignoring the blonde who stared at him. He opened the door and walked in, Arthur just behind him.
“Oh, just make yourself at home, why don’t you,” Merlin said crossly, setting his bag on the table as Arthur sank into his little used couch. The blonde wasn’t in his customary suit tonight. Instead, he wore a dark blue button down and black slacks. It suited him and brought out the color of his eyes.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he drawled with a small smirk at the brunette.
Merlin gave an annoyed huff, but smiled back a little. Turning back to his bag, he extracted the package carefully. Setting it down, he got to work on the knot holding the twine together.
“What’d you get?” Arthur asked him.
He glanced up and turned back to the twine. “I have some connections with the occult and magical groups throughout the country. If they find any books that might become problematic in the wrong hands, they send them to me for safe keeping. This is one of them. This one’s from Freya.”
“How can you tell?” he asked, interested.
“She placed a spell on it so only I can undo the knot. I recognized her magical signature.” He frowned for a moment. “There.” The twine slid down the sides of the package to pool in laze loops. “Now let’s see what she’s sent me now.” He peeled back the paper wrapping to show the book inside.
It was old, the leather binding cracked and withered. It had been colored a dark red, but time had changed it to a dull burgundy. He ran gentle fingers over the edges of the pages. They were all thick parchment, each cut a different length. There was no writing on the spine or cover, but he hadn’t been expecting there to be any.
“Ready?” Merlin asked the blonde, looking up. The blonde nodded, bending closer to get a better look. He pulled back the cover.
A cloud of dust rose from the pages, making them cough and sneeze, their eyes watering as they blinked tears away. “What…what was that?” Arthur asked as he cleared his throat.
“Must have been held in some locked place to have had that much dust collected in it,” Merlin said aloud, frowning down at the book. “Well, let’s look inside shall we?”
He started leafing through the pages, scanning over the cramped, spidery script that was ever so slightly faded with time. Much of it appeared to be theory, on rituals and what they were for or originally intended for. That wasn’t the problematic thing. The problematic part was that the book also gave the exact spells and many, if done correctly and if someone had enough magic, which could do a lot of damage in real life. Merlin didn’t want to have to deal with an Afanc, just because some idiot amateur had meddled with things he didn’t understand.
Just the thought of an Afanc brought back the memory of the one he and Arthur had faced a few months after he had arrived in Camelot. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
He wiped at the sweat on his forehead. “It’s getting hot in here. You want some water?” He asked the blonde. Arthur nodded and he walked to his small kitchen to rummage in his fridge for some bottled water.
His loose t-shirt felt too tight on his neck for some reason, and he tugged at it distractedly. Pulling out the bottles, he made for the table. He stopped briefly to look at the thermostat: seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. Why was it so hot all of a sudden?
Walking back to the table, he handed it over and sat down, pressing the cool bottle to flushed cheeks. He looked over and saw Arthur was in a similar state, face flushed a soft red and sweat beading on his forehead.
Arthur turned to look at him when he noticed Merlin’s staring. Merlin licked at his lips, trying to get some moisture on them. Arthur’s gaze followed the movement; eyes getting a strange light in them, making his heart skip a beat.
He tugged at his shirt subconsciously, hands shaking with a nervous energy. He looked away, but couldn’t help but look back at the blonde, drawn for some reason. Arthur continued to stare at him.
He could do nothing but blink as Arthur leaned forward quick as a snake, pressing their lips together. His body appeared to be miles ahead of his mind though, because the next thing he knew, he was kissing back.
It wasn’t a chaste thing, or a passion filled one, it was a full out snog. Arthur just seemed to take command, pressing closer and closer, taking, taking, taking and giving just as much in return. Merlin couldn’t hold back a small moan at the feeling of it.
They pulled apart for air, gasping and red faced, foreheads pressed up against each other. Arthur’s hands were hot brands were they had landed on the side of his neck and his hip. Heat spread from those two points, making his skin tingle and blood quicken.
Arthur released a low growl and came back, kissing him breathless anew. His brain just went along with this, temporarily giving up control as pleasure buzzed pleasantly along his nerves. He just pressed himself closer to the blonde, winding pale arms around his neck as he was pulled roughly from his chair.
They kissed again and again, the whole time Arthur maneuvered them through his flat until something flat and very solid blocked his path. He released one arm to feel at the surface behind him. Arthur had him pressed snuggly up against the wall.
He groaned loudly as warm lips traveled down his neck, sucking and nibbling at pale flesh, leaving a trail of marks in their path. All the while, nimble fingers got to work on the buttons of his shirt, popping each one, each landing with a clatter as they hit the tile floor.
Arching into his touch, he gripped at his shirt, actually undoing the buttons instead of snapping them off. Soon warm, supple flesh met his seeking fingers, muscle rippling underneath it.
His hand traveled down Merlin’s torso to cup him through the material of his pants, squeezing and messaging him, making him writhe and pant harder as he was brought closer to his climax. “Wait‒” he gasped out, the first word spoken since this whole thing started.
Arthur looked up at him, eyes blown and full of lust; an irritated gleam in his eyes for being interrupted. “Not yet,” he amended softly.
Arthur seemed to agree with it since he just kissed him again. The hand left his groin to travel a little ways up to the button of his pants. It gave with ease, the zip sliding down with an unmistakable grating of metal teeth.
The cloth slipped down slightly, but did not fall. Impatient hands forced it down past sharp hipbones until it pooled around his feet. Glad he’d removed his shoes and socks before he opened the package, he kicked the material to the side, not caring where it landed.
Eager hands were all over him, leaving no inch of skin unexplored, untouched. Tanned skin slid down his side, cupping at his thigh, drawing it up to wrap around a hard waist. The action was repeated, until all that held him up was Arthur and the wall. Rubbing shamelessly against him, he brought his head down for another kiss.
Arthur pulled back. “Do you have any‒” Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and something flew across the room. A bottle of scentless oil landed in his outstretched hand. Arthur kissed him and took the bottle. It opened with a small pop of the cork and then cool, slippery fingers played along his entrance.
He gasped at the feeling, clutching at Arthur’s broad shoulders. Arthur gave no warning as he breeched him, oil making the action one smooth motion. It burned, making his eyes water slightly, but he didn’t want him to stop. He pressed down, letting the burn travel through him.
Arthur worked quickly, but efficiently, opening him with a touch that spoke of some experience. It was over quicker than Merlin was expecting and he let out a small whine as those clever fingers left him.
He didn’t have long to wait as something a lot bigger was pressing at his entrance, hot and demanding. He could feel it slowly pressing in, not stopping until it was completely embedded in him. He clutched at muscled shoulders as pain seared through him, a few tears escaping.
Arthur just licked them away, holding still as Merlin breathed through the pain. A few minutes later and he nodded his head where it leaned against Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m okay,” he whispered.
Gently, he pulled out and pushed back in, letting him become accustomed to the feeling. The speed built up gradually, pressing in deeper each time, hitting something that made him see stars. Merlin could do nothing but hold on for the ride, moaning wantonly as Arthur pounded him into the wall.
It was getting to be too much; his climax spiraling tighter and tighter, ready to break free at any moment. He cried out as warm fingers wrapped around him, pumping with each thrust, pulling him closer to the end.
He couldn’t hold on as he was flung over the edge, a cry escaping his lips as his release struck, white coating his chest and Arthur’s hand in ropes of his seed. Arthur let out a grunt and heat blossomed inside him, spreading out.
They leaned against each other, the wall their only support as they gasped for breath. Finally, slowly, Arthur pulled out, letting his legs drop. He did so with a wince, muscles throbbing at the pounding they had received.
His eyes were drooping in fatigue. So instead of talking, he pulled Arthur along to his room. Climbing in, he felt the bed dip as the blonde followed suit. He felt warm arms encircle him, pulling his pliant body closer until Arthur was spooned up behind him. He just nestled closer, eyes flashing gold briefly, turning the lights out.
Merlin woke to sunlight streaming in through still open curtains and the feeling of sandpaper in his mouth. Glaring at the light, he shifted closer to the soft warmth he laid on. It shifted as well, raising and falling, a soft thump accompanying it.
Sitting up, he looked down. Arthur lay next to him devoid of any clothing and softly snoring. What the hell had happened? His mind protested at the mistreatment he was doing to it as he tried to remember.
Extracting himself from the blonde’s loose embrace, he walked out of his room, grabbing his robe that hung off a hook on the door. He shuffled through his flat, ignoring sore muscles and what they indicated.
He remembered coming home and Arthur being there. Then walking into the flat, and looking at the package. The package? He walked over to where they had left the book and wrapping on the table. Frowning, he looked at it, turning it over…and a small slip of paper fell out.
He picked it up and read:
Merlin, be cautious when opening the book. Avoid inhaling the powder. It appears to be a rather strong aphrodisiac. I think it’s some defense against thieves. Love, Freya.
He glared at the clear warning on the paper. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? It just lay on the table, uncaring of his worries or concerns. Sighing, he pushed the book away, careful not to disturb the dust that seemed to coat the whole book, now that he looked at it closer.
A muffled thump in the other room had him looking up. His thoughts scattered, emotions and stomach tying themselves in knots as he waited for doomsday to happen.
By the time the door opened and Arthur came out, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, Merlin was one big ball of nerves. He sat in the chair staring at the note from Freya, not daring to look in the blonde’s direction.
Arthur opened the door onto something he wasn’t expecting. Merlin sat at the table, dark blue robe covering him with his back to Arthur. Arthur could see from where he stood the tense set of the brunette’s shoulders. What was wrong?
Was Merlin mad at him for what had happened? He knew for certain that Merlin hadn’t said no, but still, was he having second thoughts? These thoughts ran through his mind as he drew closer, one step at a time. A few feet from him, he finally had to break the silence. “Merlin?”
The brunette looked up at him. He flushed red and turned away. Was that shame on his face? Guilt? Arthur felt his heart clench at the thought. He took another step forward and noticed the piece of paper on the table.
Stepping around him, he picked it up and read it over. By the time he was finished, he was even more confused. An aphrodisiac? So that explained the sudden intense urge to kiss Merlin and not worry about stupid fears, but it still didn’t explain this tense silence.
“I’m sorry!” Merlin finally blurted out. “If I had known…then you would never…and this wouldn’t have…” He stopped, shoulders slumped.
“What are you trying to say, that you didn’t want it to happen?” Arthur asked softly, heart clenching at the thought of Merlin regretting this, because he certainly didn’t.
“Yes…no…I don’t know…all I know is that it shouldn’t have happened. The last thing I recall, you were in love with Gwen, and even if you’re not now, it still meant something.”
“What has Gwen to do with this? Yes, I cared for her, but you seem to have forgotten the part where she chose Lancelot over me. Yes, I loved her, but I don’t think Gwen can change my realizing of whom she will choose, no matter what life it is.” He looked down at the brunette. “Besides, I’ve…well, I’ve wanted you for a while,” he admitted, turning away with a blush high on his cheekbones.
He heard the chair shift noisily as Merlin turned to look at him, but he didn’t turn around. “What? If you mean that…why did you never say?” he asked, voice confused.
“I was the Crown Prince, Merlin. I was expected to marry and have children…and then there was the fact that you are male. Add the magic into the equation and I would have been asking to get you killed. So…I hid it away, locked it up and never acted on it…or I never got the chance to act on it.”
The room was silent as they recollected the end of their last life. The fire and blood, smoke everywhere, flashes of swords shining through, and screams everywhere. It had ended horribly and if anything, they both wished they could have changed it somehow, done things differently.
He shook away his thoughts with some difficulty. He turned back to Merlin. “The fact of the matter is, that drug did not force me to do anything, and it bloody should and did happen.” He forced a tanned hand up under his pale chin, making him look up. “So tell me, should it have happened?”
Emotions warred across his so expressive face and Arthur waited patiently. Finally, the brunette’s shoulder’s slumped in defeat. “Yes,” he whispered, eyes suspiciously wet. Arthur took that as an invitation, pressing forward to kiss him lightly on the lips.
“Good.”
They strolled out of his apartment, with a quick call home to the head of his staff, Arthur was loaded even in this life, that he was ‘going to be home late so get Aaron to bed on time’, and so forth.
There were still things to work out between them, but all was good for now. They made a beeline for a nearby park, wanting the peace and quiet of foliage and manicured wilderness to soak in the newness of what they had created.
The paths were empty, most people at work or school. They strolled along leisurely, speaking every now and then, but mostly silent. They heard footsteps up ahead and stopped to see who was coming.
A woman stepped out from an intersecting path. Long black hair done up in a knot, she wore a pale gray tank top and brown slacks, a faded green jacket her only protection against the still chill air, though it was warming up.
She looked up as she noticed them and three sets of blue eyes met. Her face drained of color, turning her already pale skin white. Full lips worked, but no sound came out at first. Then one word sprang out jagged and broken. “Arthur.”
They both tensed at the word. Merlin stared at her, trying to figure out what this meant. His magic was churning underneath his skin, reacting violently to this woman. Then it clicked who she was. “Morgana.” He said coldly, spitting her name out as a curse.
Arthur growled low in his throat, shifting into a fighting stance that this body hadn’t learned. Morgana flinched, shrinking into herself as she fidgeted with her jacket sleeve.
“You don’t have to worry. My magic is no more,” she said softly. The world was quiet as they waited for her to continue. “I’m sorry, for how things played out,” she admitted.
“Sorry! Sorry doesn’t cut it, Morgana. You killed him…you killed my father and you want forgiveness?” Arthur demanded harshly.
“I never asked for forgiveness,” she said stubbornly, still ever the woman they had known.
“Why?” Merlin asked her quietly.
“At first, it was anger at Uther for his stupid law on magic. But then I met Morgause…and then it just seemed to get out of hand and it was like something broke inside of me. I never meant for you two to be drawn into everything. But by then it was too late to stop any of it. Cenred was already at Camelot’s gates. Afterwards, it was like I woke up from a trance, but it was too late.” She tried to explain how hatred had clouded her heart, but some things could not be put into words eloquently.
Arthur and Morgana both jumped as one of the many flowers growing along the trail rose in the air and flew towards her. She flinched back, but seeing the sincere look on the warlock’s face, she took it. “I think that what has happened was destiny and fate meddling in our lives. Some things are just meant to be and can’t be changed, no matter what we see.” He looked pointedly at the woman. “We may not forgive you, Morgana, but we can understand that much.”
He looked at Arthur and the blonde looked back before nodding. “Go, Morgana. We won’t keep you anymore.” She smiled slightly and turned back onto her original trail, disappearing among the many plants.
“Do you think that was right?” he asked the blonde a few minutes later.
Arthur nodded. “It may sit uncomfortably, but it was the right thing to do.” He pulled the brunette close and kissed him. “And that’s all we can do.”
The library was quiet as usual. Arthur sat in his usual spot, near the front desk where he had an unobstructed view of Merlin. Aaron was somewhere among the many bookcases that populated this large building. It seemed the little blonde was spending more and more time here and Arthur wondered if his son had caught on to his and Merlin’s relationship and was helping his father out.
If so, he could only smile in pride at the way his son was handling it. When Elena had died when he was six, neither male Carrington had known what to do with their lives. Arthur had fallen into a slump, affecting both his work life and home life. He’d become distant from Aaron for months before he’d finally pulled himself out of it.
It was the moment his memories had come back and he’d remembered his father, how he had acted around him. He refused to do that to his own son. So he pulled through, and four years later, he had gotten passed it.
Aaron never said anything, but he knew he wished Arthur would find someone to fill in that void. Now it appeared that he had, even if it was someone from the past. He glanced over at Merlin, but he was busy helping someone out and didn’t notice.
He jumped as a pile of books landed by his elbow. Aaron stood next to him, watching him with piercing eyes. “Dad, do you like Mr. Kalenson?” he asked, eyes giving nothing away as he waited for his father to answer.
“I…yes,” he admitted, looking his son straight in the eye.
The little blonde nodded. “Good, you should bring him over then.” He smiled impishly and ran off to go scavenge more books.
Arthur groaned, burying his face in his hands at the audacity of his son. “What’s wrong?” a voice asked next to his ear.
He looked up to see Merlin leaning over him. Quickly, before he could object, he kissed him on the lips. Merlin turned bright red but didn’t say anything to chaste him. “It appears I have the seal of approval to make this official from Aaron.” If anything, he went redder at the mention of Arthur’s son knowing about him. “What do you say, want to come over for dinner?” he asked him.
“Prat,” he muttered, but nodded in acquiescence.
“What can I say, from the mouths of children…” He didn’t finish as Merlin glared at him and he started laughing, pulling him forward to kiss him on the lips again, and ignoring those around him.
xXx
A/N: Well, here you go dear. All written up. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy holidays!
Recipient:
fayniaAuthor:
reiya_wakayamaRating: R
Pairings: ArthurxMerlin
Word Count: 7,527
Warnings: Slash, language, future!fic, father!Arthur, wall!sex, aphrodisiacs usage(with no bad fallout after), a few season 1, 2, and the first two episodes of 3 spoilers, references to the original legend, reincarnation, confrontation with Morgana about post season 2 events.
Summary: Future AU, slash, A/M, They say a picture has a thousand words, but unlike a picture, it’s not what is shown but what is written between the lines that is most important. Can two figures from times past read between the lines of their own history to see what is truly important?
Author's Notes:Happy Holidays dear and I hope you like my fic for you. I tried to work with as much of what you wanted as I could, but some had to be thrown out. Sorry, but I did get some inspirations from the rest so here is your fic. Enjoy!
A/N: I don’t know what the Library of London looks like, if it even exists with that name, so just pretend it is right and go along with the story.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.
xXx
The silence was overwhelming for any who had never been in its presence before. But to him, it was like an enveloping blanket, comforting him as he moved from shelf to shelf, books as far as the eye could see on so many subjects that one could not even contemplate them all, let alone try and read them.
The Library of London was a timeworn place. Built so many years ago for some lord or another, it had changed hands until at last, some hundred years ago, it had come into the hands of a very wealthy nobleman who converted the old Victorian styled building into the library it was now.
Only in the last twenty or so years had it been brought up to date of the current century, with electric lighting, AC and heating, and lines for internet with brand new computers standing proud and out of place in this timeless place of learning. He could admit that they were useful, but he preferred the books to anything else.
For ten years now, he had lived and worked among these books, learning as much history as he could. When looked at, he would pass as a man in his late twenties, maybe early thirties…except when you looked into deep blue eyes, all you could see was time itself and knowledge of things unknown in this day and age.
None knew of the secret knowledge buried deep in his heart, the knowledge of who he had been so many centuries ago. Merlin Kalenson, age twenty-six, had once lived the life of Merlin Emrys. Ironic, the name, but he never questioned fate. If he looked in a mirror, he could see his old self overshadowing his face in the mirror. Not much had changed since that past life. His hair was still a lustrous black, if a little longer. Eyes still blue, if a little darker and skin as pale as it had once been. He even still had those damn large ears that had plagued his lives.
Shaking his head, he continued to push his cart ahead of him, wheeling his load of books to the next shelf across the aisle. Libraries hadn’t changed that much since his life in Camelot. It was certainly more organized, the books lasting longer and made of better materials, but the smell was still the same.
The smell of old books and leather, a musk rising up off of the pages to tickle at the nose with dust caught between the pages. Moving down the row, he shelved the bound volumes with practiced ease, never breaking step as the books disappeared from the cart.
Finished, he turned around and started back towards the front desk where he normally sat when not shelving books. He was halfway there when a voice called out, shattering the quiet of the room. “Look out!” He didn’t have time to react as something small barreled into him, knocking him over.
He looked down to see a small blonde head lying on his stomach. It looked up to show bright blue green eyes that were suspiciously wet and a protruding lower lip that quivered ever so slightly. “Are you alright?” he asked the child softly.
Before he could answer, the sound of running feet made them look up. A man, presumably his father, stopped beside them, bright blonde hair disheveled and suit jacket coming off of one shoulder. Seeing their curious glances, he straightened up, jerking his jacket back into place and running his fingers through his hair to tame it.
He looked down at the blonde boy. “Aaron, what have I told you about running inside?” he said slightly cross at the boy.
“But I just wanted‒”
“No buts. You know you can’t run indoors. Now apologize.” He stared his son down before the boy backed down.
Small shoulders sagging, he got up off of Merlin with a sigh. Turning, he looked at the brunette. “I’m sorry for running into you and knocking you over.”
“It’s alright, it was an accident. I’m guessing you were excited about getting a new book?” he asked with a smile at the boy.
The boy nodded vigorously, blonde locks flying in his energetic display. “It just came in, and I want to get it before everyone else, so Papa drove me over here right after school got out.”
Smiling, he hauled himself up off the floor and looked down at the boy. “What book is it? I’ll show you where it is.”
“You work here?” he asked with amazement evident in his voice. Merlin nodded. “It’s called ‘The Tale of Merlin the Great’.”
Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the title. He’d lived the life of Merlin, and he couldn’t remember anyone calling him great, but this was a children’s fiction book so it was understandable. His father snorted at the name, but said nothing.
“Well, you’re just in luck; it just came in and is waiting to be shelved. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll get it for you.” They started back up the aisle, Aaron chattering away; in an inside voice after his father chastised him for speaking to loud.
They reached the front desk and he circled around it, depositing his cart with the others before he went into the back, scanning the newest additions for the boy’s book. Pulling it out, he glanced down at the cover. It was brightly colored, an image of an old man in robes and a pointed hat adorned the picture, his white beard contrasting with them.
Again, he couldn’t remember ever having a beard during his last life. If anything, he’d have wanted a beard of his own, but you couldn’t argue with your genes. Straightening, he headed back out, book in tow.
He looked around for the boy, but he had disappeared. His father stood at the desk patiently waiting for Merlin to come back with the book so he could check it out. The blonde looked slightly apologetic about this. “Sorry again, about earlier.”
“It’s alright, these things happen. Do you have a card?” He nodded and dug out his wallet to find his card.
“I’m Arthur Carrington,” he said as Merlin scanned the card to bring up his account. He quickly scanned it; he had to admit that computers made it easier to keep track of books like this. He arched a brow at the name but said nothing as he held out a hand for the book. Quickly scanning its barcode, he handed it back with a receipt with its due date printed on the flimsy white paper. “Your name?” Arthur asked.
“Huh, oh, Merlin Kalenson.” For the first time since his run in with the small blonde boy, he really looked at the man. Tall, bright flaxen locks, the heavy build of someone who works out, bright blue eyes, his dark blue suit cut to fit him, and an annoyed look as he scanned for his errant son, completed the look. If Merlin hadn’t known better, this man could have been his Arthur’s double.
Except he could see the subtle differences. Straight, even teeth, hands calloused in all the wrong places, eyes more a gray blue than sky blue. There was an air of arrogance around the man, and from his clothes, he wasn’t poor.
“How long have you worked here?” he asked him.
“Hmm, just about ten years now.”
“Why have I never seen you at any of the charity banquets? Or any of the other events the library holds?” he asked, confusion clear on his face as he tried to place Merlin in his appropriate place in his mind. Merlin arched a brow. “My family’s a benefactor of the library,” he explained, waiting for Merlin to answer his question.
“I’m more comfortable around books then other people. And they’re not mandatory, so I don’t go,” he explained, turning away to empty out the turn-in bin. They were silent as Merlin checked in the returned books.
“You must really love it here,” Arthur said aloud, not looking at Merlin as he watched his son talking with some other child.
“I love the books,” he told him.
Arthur seemed to space out for a few minutes before he shook himself back into the present. “Well, Merlin, it was nice meeting you.” He nodded to the brunette before walking over to his son and extracting him from his conversation with the other child.
Merlin followed his path through the library until the front doors cut off any view of them. He jerked around when something rattled behind him. Gwen, one of the summer volunteers, smiled in apology for making him jump. “I’m here to relieve you.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a smile and left the area of the front desk. He quickly headed for the back of the library, where the books on history were located. Walking through it, he quickly selected the books he wanted. A pile in his arms, he headed for the front desk and checked them out before heading home.
He had already read these books, but he still liked to read them as a reminder of what had passed. His small flat was dark and empty, only a few pieces of furniture adorned the main room. His bedroom was a different matter. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books of all sizes and colors, ranging from a few dozen pages to well into the hundreds.
Setting his stack down, he crawled onto his king size bed, a luxury to the small bed he’d slept in before. What could he say; some whims just had to be indulged. Curling up against his mound of pillows and tucking his feet underneath the thick comforter, he pulled the first book in the stack towards himself, opening to the title page. The ink, although printed, was small and squashed together, though the title was large and bolded. It read ‘Le Morte de Arthur’. He was soon lost in it, the present ignored for memories of the past.
“I want you to clean my boots, muck out my stables, polish my armor…”
Merlin glared up at the ceiling, annoyed at being woken. Sunlight still peeked through his heavily curtained window, announcing that he should still be asleep. He turned to glance blearily at his clock. He wasn’t supposed to be up for another couple of hours.
Sighing, he sat up and shoved aside his book from last night. His foul mood had more to do with his latest dream then his early awakening. His memories from when he’d first met Arthur, although amusing, were still not pleasant. The hours Arthur had spent torturing him with chores had left a very bad flavor in his mind.
Shoving the heavy blanket aside, he stumbled through the room to his small bathroom to shower and shave. Routine was an easy thing to keep going, and he was out of the bathroom and seated at his small kitchen table with a cup of strong tea before he finally noticed his surroundings.
Frowning into his cup he glanced at the clock. He didn’t have to be at the library for another couple of hours. He worked the night shifts on the weekends, going through everything that needed doing before the library opened up again in the morning. The fact that he got the entire library to himself was an added bonus.
He saw his book from last night sitting on the table, moved there due to autopilot of the brain. Frowning, he recalled the story in it. It was about him and Arthur and everyone else he could think of. Except it was wrong.
For one thing, Merlin had never been an old man. If anything, he’d died quiet young at the age of twenty-five, one less than this life. As for Mordred being Arthur and Morgana’s incestuous child, if he could, he would beat that idea out of the author’s head. For one thing, he and Morgana couldn’t stand each other like that, and that Arthur would have had to be a child to have sired the boy was another improbability.
As for Morgana, well, that was someone he would rather not contemplate. Things tended to break if he did. Lancelot had not been a noble and knight, and they never seemed to mention the large scaly, fire-breathing dragon that had been chained beneath the castle. Nor did they mention the blood bathed purge that Uther had instigated.
No, there were much dissimilarity between what had happened and what had been written. There were many similarities as well, like Arthur’s courage, Lancelot’s loyalty, Gwen’s kindness. Morgana’s…
No, not going there.
He pulled the book closer, absently opening it to a random page and staring blankly as he remembered his past.
He staggered under the heavy load of armor, weaponry and a tray of food as he headed for his master’s chambers. The fact that the sun had yet to rise made no difference when chores needed to be done.
Hands full and following long established routine, he edged the door open with his shoulder, walking inside to set down his burden and shut the door. Arthur lounged on his bed, head buried underneath a pillow and blankets tangled around his waist and legs.
Walking quietly, he strode over to his prince. “Arthur.” He shook his shoulder gently. The blonde started and turned over to glare blurrily at him. “Time to rise. You need to be ready for the council meeting the king said you must sit in.” The blonde groaned but did not turn back over.
Merlin smiled fondly at the memory. In comparison to later days, those first few years had been very pleasant indeed, attacks and all. It appeared his thoughts were still centered on the rotten core from his past, leading to things he couldn’t and wouldn’t contemplate.
Sighing, he stood. He might as well leave now. Getting there early would give him time to get his area set up. He quickly flushed his mug with water, cleaning it and setting it up to dry. Grabbing his wallet, he headed for the door, hurrying to catch the bus he knew came by around this time.
He actually arrived later than he had been expecting. There had been an accident on the road and it held up his bus, making it half an hour late on its route. The library was just starting to shut down, most of the patrons leaving with their books in tow.
He ascended the steps two at a time, impatient for the few stragglers to leave before he could finish locking up. Gwen waved at him in hello and farewell as she gathered her stuff, her boyfriend, Lance, waiting for her. Yes, ironic, wasn’t it? The original star-crossed lovers reunited. It didn’t matter to him one way or another, but he wondered if they were like him and remembered.
Waiting at the front desk, he watched the last of the people inside leave and quickly shut and locked the front door. Quiet reigned supreme here and he reveled in it. Pocketing his keys, he went to work, the routine of ten years setting in.
He craned around the stack of books in his arms, looking for the last thing he needed to take down. His gaze steadily going higher on the shelf as he searched until at last he spotted it on the very top shelf, just out of reach of even his long limbs.
Shifting the books into one arm, he reached up, standing on tiptoes, to gain a few extra inches. It remained just out of reach, his fingertips bare millimeters away. Sighing in exasperation, he reached inside, calling out the magic which had been passed onto him in this life, though much reduced.
The book inched forward until at last it slid into his out stretched hand. He jumped as someone coughed behind him, books flying everywhere as he lost his balance and wind milled his arms.
His magic, already called forth, reacted to the moment, slowing time down until the books hung suspended in midair. He looked up to see serious blue eyes regarding him back, taking in the scene before them.
His stomach did a sort of flip-flop as he let the magic go and the books landed with a clatter of bindings and a rustle of pages. He sat on the floor, staring up at Arthur, too stunned by this sudden development to do anything to explain away what had just happened.
As it happened, he didn’t need to. Arthur’s next words left him speechless and confused. “I thought it was you.” Merlin stared at him in bewilderment. What the hell was he talking about? He should be freaking out by now, trying to explain away the magic he had just seen, not mystifying him with vague statements.
“What?” Came the expected line.
“Come now, Merlin. I know you were an idiot, but you can’t be that dense.” He ignored Merlin’s ‘Oi!’ and continued, “You must have guessed by now.”
Merlin just stared up at him, lost beyond belief. It wasn’t his fault, shock does that to people. Arthur stared back. Finally he gave a large sigh. “Merlin, you really are an idiot.”
Shock washed through him again, making him tense up at the inflection on his name. Only one person had ever said it that way and he was long since dead…or was supposed to be. “No…” he said, disbelieving.
“Give the man a prize. Idiot,” he said in exasperation.
Merlin’s brain disconnected with his mouth and random patches of words just spewed forth. “You…no…how is that…it can’t be…” Finally he settled on one sentence. “What the hell, you prat?”
The whole time, Arthur had been steering him towards a table and some chairs, shoving him into a seat before taking his own. “I’m still your king, Merlin. Let’s keep the insolence to a minimum,” Arthur drawled at him. “As to your last eloquent statement, I just now put the pieces together after seeing you little stunt back there.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, and then Merlin jerked back as if slapped, eyes going wide as he just seemed to recall doing in front of this man. He’d used magic in front of Arthur. His hands started to tremble as panic set in, mind whirling around, trying to find some excuse, something to down play what he’d done.
“Merlin, Merlin! Calm down.” Arthur had come to stand beside him, shaking his shoulder to get his attention. He took a few deep breaths, reining in his panic until it was under lock and key. He braced himself for the disgust, hatred, look of betrayal, anything.
Arthur just remained quiet and finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He looked up at the blonde, wanting‒no needing‒ to see his expression. His face was calm, though stoic, giving nothing away behind those gray blue eyes.
He looked away, turning eyes onto hands that had become the most fascinating thing in the world at the moment. He fidgeted guiltily under the piercing stare the blonde was giving him. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out.
“What for?” He seemed to genuinely want to know.
“For…hiding it and not telling you. I had planned to, but then everything went out of control and she…it all…I’m sorry,” he finished again.
“I would have liked for you to have finally trusted me enough to tell, but I have a bit of a confession to make. I’ve known about it for some time now,” he admitted.
“What! How? When?” Merlin looked up at him, gaping at the small smirk on his prince’s face.
“Come now, Merlin. I was the best knight in Camelot. You’re stupid to think I wouldn’t put two and two together eventually. As to when, it was a few months after the questing beast. When you saved that woman from the runaway cart. I saw you as I was walking by.”
Merlin let out a groan and thumped his head on the table, hard. “So you’re saying, all this time you knew, and never said anything?” Arthur nodded. “All those excuses I made to you. You must have thought I was an even bigger idiot.”
“There were a few times.” Merlin glanced up at this. “As if you could ever stop me with a branch, Merlin,” he told him, referring to Sophia and Aulfric. “What were they by the way?” he asked curious.
“Sidhe, a type of fey folk. Aulfric had killed another Sidhe and was sentenced to live a mortal life, as was his daughter. He wanted to sacrifice your heart to let his daughter back into Avalon,” he explained, exasperated with himself.
Arthur glanced at his watch. “Well, since it appears you have some time on your hands, start from the beginning. I want to hear every detail about what you’ve done with your magic.” Merlin gulped softly, but did as commanded, telling of every instant he had used magic to save Arthur and Camelot.
Merlin stared blankly ahead as he sat behind the front desk at the library. Two months had gone by since he and Arthur had reacquainted with each other and now their lives were just as intertwined as they had been in their past life.
If they weren’t meeting somewhere at a café or coffee shop, Arthur was appearing at the library, mostly when Merlin worked at night, but even during the day time. Sometimes, he brought his son along, sometime not.
That was the strangest part about this new Arthur. In the past, he’d never gotten around to having children. And though the legend said he married Gwen, it wasn’t true. Yes, there had been some feelings between them, but her love for Lancelot had outweighed her love for Arthur, and Arthur, being the gentlemen he was, had backed down. They had remained close friends until the end, but their romance had never been meant to be.
He jumped, knocked out of his wool gathering, as something hard landed in front of him. A burley man in a black delivery uniform stood before him. “You Merlin?” he asked impatiently when Merlin didn’t say anything.
“Ah, yes,” he answered hesitantly.
“Sign here please.” He held out an electronic clipboard. Taking the plastic pen, he scrawled his name hastily. The man snatched it back and left hastily, probably late with his deliveries.
Merlin glanced down at the package. Wrapped in plain brown paper, and twine, it had no return address. He glanced around quickly, but no one was nearby. Most had left due to the nearing closing time. Those that were there hadn’t even glanced up as the man spoke. Reassured no one had seen, he quickly went into the back and tucked it into his bag.
He stepped off the bus into the gloom of the evening outside his building. He quickly walked to the front, and unlocking the front gate, slipped inside. Ignoring the elevators, they were broken anyways; he climbed the stairs, six flights in total.
He nearly dropped his bag in shock at the person leaning against the wall next to his door. Sighing in annoyance, he pulled out his keys, ignoring the blonde who stared at him. He opened the door and walked in, Arthur just behind him.
“Oh, just make yourself at home, why don’t you,” Merlin said crossly, setting his bag on the table as Arthur sank into his little used couch. The blonde wasn’t in his customary suit tonight. Instead, he wore a dark blue button down and black slacks. It suited him and brought out the color of his eyes.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he drawled with a small smirk at the brunette.
Merlin gave an annoyed huff, but smiled back a little. Turning back to his bag, he extracted the package carefully. Setting it down, he got to work on the knot holding the twine together.
“What’d you get?” Arthur asked him.
He glanced up and turned back to the twine. “I have some connections with the occult and magical groups throughout the country. If they find any books that might become problematic in the wrong hands, they send them to me for safe keeping. This is one of them. This one’s from Freya.”
“How can you tell?” he asked, interested.
“She placed a spell on it so only I can undo the knot. I recognized her magical signature.” He frowned for a moment. “There.” The twine slid down the sides of the package to pool in laze loops. “Now let’s see what she’s sent me now.” He peeled back the paper wrapping to show the book inside.
It was old, the leather binding cracked and withered. It had been colored a dark red, but time had changed it to a dull burgundy. He ran gentle fingers over the edges of the pages. They were all thick parchment, each cut a different length. There was no writing on the spine or cover, but he hadn’t been expecting there to be any.
“Ready?” Merlin asked the blonde, looking up. The blonde nodded, bending closer to get a better look. He pulled back the cover.
A cloud of dust rose from the pages, making them cough and sneeze, their eyes watering as they blinked tears away. “What…what was that?” Arthur asked as he cleared his throat.
“Must have been held in some locked place to have had that much dust collected in it,” Merlin said aloud, frowning down at the book. “Well, let’s look inside shall we?”
He started leafing through the pages, scanning over the cramped, spidery script that was ever so slightly faded with time. Much of it appeared to be theory, on rituals and what they were for or originally intended for. That wasn’t the problematic thing. The problematic part was that the book also gave the exact spells and many, if done correctly and if someone had enough magic, which could do a lot of damage in real life. Merlin didn’t want to have to deal with an Afanc, just because some idiot amateur had meddled with things he didn’t understand.
Just the thought of an Afanc brought back the memory of the one he and Arthur had faced a few months after he had arrived in Camelot. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
He wiped at the sweat on his forehead. “It’s getting hot in here. You want some water?” He asked the blonde. Arthur nodded and he walked to his small kitchen to rummage in his fridge for some bottled water.
His loose t-shirt felt too tight on his neck for some reason, and he tugged at it distractedly. Pulling out the bottles, he made for the table. He stopped briefly to look at the thermostat: seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit. Why was it so hot all of a sudden?
Walking back to the table, he handed it over and sat down, pressing the cool bottle to flushed cheeks. He looked over and saw Arthur was in a similar state, face flushed a soft red and sweat beading on his forehead.
Arthur turned to look at him when he noticed Merlin’s staring. Merlin licked at his lips, trying to get some moisture on them. Arthur’s gaze followed the movement; eyes getting a strange light in them, making his heart skip a beat.
He tugged at his shirt subconsciously, hands shaking with a nervous energy. He looked away, but couldn’t help but look back at the blonde, drawn for some reason. Arthur continued to stare at him.
He could do nothing but blink as Arthur leaned forward quick as a snake, pressing their lips together. His body appeared to be miles ahead of his mind though, because the next thing he knew, he was kissing back.
It wasn’t a chaste thing, or a passion filled one, it was a full out snog. Arthur just seemed to take command, pressing closer and closer, taking, taking, taking and giving just as much in return. Merlin couldn’t hold back a small moan at the feeling of it.
They pulled apart for air, gasping and red faced, foreheads pressed up against each other. Arthur’s hands were hot brands were they had landed on the side of his neck and his hip. Heat spread from those two points, making his skin tingle and blood quicken.
Arthur released a low growl and came back, kissing him breathless anew. His brain just went along with this, temporarily giving up control as pleasure buzzed pleasantly along his nerves. He just pressed himself closer to the blonde, winding pale arms around his neck as he was pulled roughly from his chair.
They kissed again and again, the whole time Arthur maneuvered them through his flat until something flat and very solid blocked his path. He released one arm to feel at the surface behind him. Arthur had him pressed snuggly up against the wall.
He groaned loudly as warm lips traveled down his neck, sucking and nibbling at pale flesh, leaving a trail of marks in their path. All the while, nimble fingers got to work on the buttons of his shirt, popping each one, each landing with a clatter as they hit the tile floor.
Arching into his touch, he gripped at his shirt, actually undoing the buttons instead of snapping them off. Soon warm, supple flesh met his seeking fingers, muscle rippling underneath it.
His hand traveled down Merlin’s torso to cup him through the material of his pants, squeezing and messaging him, making him writhe and pant harder as he was brought closer to his climax. “Wait‒” he gasped out, the first word spoken since this whole thing started.
Arthur looked up at him, eyes blown and full of lust; an irritated gleam in his eyes for being interrupted. “Not yet,” he amended softly.
Arthur seemed to agree with it since he just kissed him again. The hand left his groin to travel a little ways up to the button of his pants. It gave with ease, the zip sliding down with an unmistakable grating of metal teeth.
The cloth slipped down slightly, but did not fall. Impatient hands forced it down past sharp hipbones until it pooled around his feet. Glad he’d removed his shoes and socks before he opened the package, he kicked the material to the side, not caring where it landed.
Eager hands were all over him, leaving no inch of skin unexplored, untouched. Tanned skin slid down his side, cupping at his thigh, drawing it up to wrap around a hard waist. The action was repeated, until all that held him up was Arthur and the wall. Rubbing shamelessly against him, he brought his head down for another kiss.
Arthur pulled back. “Do you have any‒” Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and something flew across the room. A bottle of scentless oil landed in his outstretched hand. Arthur kissed him and took the bottle. It opened with a small pop of the cork and then cool, slippery fingers played along his entrance.
He gasped at the feeling, clutching at Arthur’s broad shoulders. Arthur gave no warning as he breeched him, oil making the action one smooth motion. It burned, making his eyes water slightly, but he didn’t want him to stop. He pressed down, letting the burn travel through him.
Arthur worked quickly, but efficiently, opening him with a touch that spoke of some experience. It was over quicker than Merlin was expecting and he let out a small whine as those clever fingers left him.
He didn’t have long to wait as something a lot bigger was pressing at his entrance, hot and demanding. He could feel it slowly pressing in, not stopping until it was completely embedded in him. He clutched at muscled shoulders as pain seared through him, a few tears escaping.
Arthur just licked them away, holding still as Merlin breathed through the pain. A few minutes later and he nodded his head where it leaned against Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m okay,” he whispered.
Gently, he pulled out and pushed back in, letting him become accustomed to the feeling. The speed built up gradually, pressing in deeper each time, hitting something that made him see stars. Merlin could do nothing but hold on for the ride, moaning wantonly as Arthur pounded him into the wall.
It was getting to be too much; his climax spiraling tighter and tighter, ready to break free at any moment. He cried out as warm fingers wrapped around him, pumping with each thrust, pulling him closer to the end.
He couldn’t hold on as he was flung over the edge, a cry escaping his lips as his release struck, white coating his chest and Arthur’s hand in ropes of his seed. Arthur let out a grunt and heat blossomed inside him, spreading out.
They leaned against each other, the wall their only support as they gasped for breath. Finally, slowly, Arthur pulled out, letting his legs drop. He did so with a wince, muscles throbbing at the pounding they had received.
His eyes were drooping in fatigue. So instead of talking, he pulled Arthur along to his room. Climbing in, he felt the bed dip as the blonde followed suit. He felt warm arms encircle him, pulling his pliant body closer until Arthur was spooned up behind him. He just nestled closer, eyes flashing gold briefly, turning the lights out.
Merlin woke to sunlight streaming in through still open curtains and the feeling of sandpaper in his mouth. Glaring at the light, he shifted closer to the soft warmth he laid on. It shifted as well, raising and falling, a soft thump accompanying it.
Sitting up, he looked down. Arthur lay next to him devoid of any clothing and softly snoring. What the hell had happened? His mind protested at the mistreatment he was doing to it as he tried to remember.
Extracting himself from the blonde’s loose embrace, he walked out of his room, grabbing his robe that hung off a hook on the door. He shuffled through his flat, ignoring sore muscles and what they indicated.
He remembered coming home and Arthur being there. Then walking into the flat, and looking at the package. The package? He walked over to where they had left the book and wrapping on the table. Frowning, he looked at it, turning it over…and a small slip of paper fell out.
He picked it up and read:
Merlin, be cautious when opening the book. Avoid inhaling the powder. It appears to be a rather strong aphrodisiac. I think it’s some defense against thieves. Love, Freya.
He glared at the clear warning on the paper. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? It just lay on the table, uncaring of his worries or concerns. Sighing, he pushed the book away, careful not to disturb the dust that seemed to coat the whole book, now that he looked at it closer.
A muffled thump in the other room had him looking up. His thoughts scattered, emotions and stomach tying themselves in knots as he waited for doomsday to happen.
By the time the door opened and Arthur came out, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, Merlin was one big ball of nerves. He sat in the chair staring at the note from Freya, not daring to look in the blonde’s direction.
Arthur opened the door onto something he wasn’t expecting. Merlin sat at the table, dark blue robe covering him with his back to Arthur. Arthur could see from where he stood the tense set of the brunette’s shoulders. What was wrong?
Was Merlin mad at him for what had happened? He knew for certain that Merlin hadn’t said no, but still, was he having second thoughts? These thoughts ran through his mind as he drew closer, one step at a time. A few feet from him, he finally had to break the silence. “Merlin?”
The brunette looked up at him. He flushed red and turned away. Was that shame on his face? Guilt? Arthur felt his heart clench at the thought. He took another step forward and noticed the piece of paper on the table.
Stepping around him, he picked it up and read it over. By the time he was finished, he was even more confused. An aphrodisiac? So that explained the sudden intense urge to kiss Merlin and not worry about stupid fears, but it still didn’t explain this tense silence.
“I’m sorry!” Merlin finally blurted out. “If I had known…then you would never…and this wouldn’t have…” He stopped, shoulders slumped.
“What are you trying to say, that you didn’t want it to happen?” Arthur asked softly, heart clenching at the thought of Merlin regretting this, because he certainly didn’t.
“Yes…no…I don’t know…all I know is that it shouldn’t have happened. The last thing I recall, you were in love with Gwen, and even if you’re not now, it still meant something.”
“What has Gwen to do with this? Yes, I cared for her, but you seem to have forgotten the part where she chose Lancelot over me. Yes, I loved her, but I don’t think Gwen can change my realizing of whom she will choose, no matter what life it is.” He looked down at the brunette. “Besides, I’ve…well, I’ve wanted you for a while,” he admitted, turning away with a blush high on his cheekbones.
He heard the chair shift noisily as Merlin turned to look at him, but he didn’t turn around. “What? If you mean that…why did you never say?” he asked, voice confused.
“I was the Crown Prince, Merlin. I was expected to marry and have children…and then there was the fact that you are male. Add the magic into the equation and I would have been asking to get you killed. So…I hid it away, locked it up and never acted on it…or I never got the chance to act on it.”
The room was silent as they recollected the end of their last life. The fire and blood, smoke everywhere, flashes of swords shining through, and screams everywhere. It had ended horribly and if anything, they both wished they could have changed it somehow, done things differently.
He shook away his thoughts with some difficulty. He turned back to Merlin. “The fact of the matter is, that drug did not force me to do anything, and it bloody should and did happen.” He forced a tanned hand up under his pale chin, making him look up. “So tell me, should it have happened?”
Emotions warred across his so expressive face and Arthur waited patiently. Finally, the brunette’s shoulder’s slumped in defeat. “Yes,” he whispered, eyes suspiciously wet. Arthur took that as an invitation, pressing forward to kiss him lightly on the lips.
“Good.”
They strolled out of his apartment, with a quick call home to the head of his staff, Arthur was loaded even in this life, that he was ‘going to be home late so get Aaron to bed on time’, and so forth.
There were still things to work out between them, but all was good for now. They made a beeline for a nearby park, wanting the peace and quiet of foliage and manicured wilderness to soak in the newness of what they had created.
The paths were empty, most people at work or school. They strolled along leisurely, speaking every now and then, but mostly silent. They heard footsteps up ahead and stopped to see who was coming.
A woman stepped out from an intersecting path. Long black hair done up in a knot, she wore a pale gray tank top and brown slacks, a faded green jacket her only protection against the still chill air, though it was warming up.
She looked up as she noticed them and three sets of blue eyes met. Her face drained of color, turning her already pale skin white. Full lips worked, but no sound came out at first. Then one word sprang out jagged and broken. “Arthur.”
They both tensed at the word. Merlin stared at her, trying to figure out what this meant. His magic was churning underneath his skin, reacting violently to this woman. Then it clicked who she was. “Morgana.” He said coldly, spitting her name out as a curse.
Arthur growled low in his throat, shifting into a fighting stance that this body hadn’t learned. Morgana flinched, shrinking into herself as she fidgeted with her jacket sleeve.
“You don’t have to worry. My magic is no more,” she said softly. The world was quiet as they waited for her to continue. “I’m sorry, for how things played out,” she admitted.
“Sorry! Sorry doesn’t cut it, Morgana. You killed him…you killed my father and you want forgiveness?” Arthur demanded harshly.
“I never asked for forgiveness,” she said stubbornly, still ever the woman they had known.
“Why?” Merlin asked her quietly.
“At first, it was anger at Uther for his stupid law on magic. But then I met Morgause…and then it just seemed to get out of hand and it was like something broke inside of me. I never meant for you two to be drawn into everything. But by then it was too late to stop any of it. Cenred was already at Camelot’s gates. Afterwards, it was like I woke up from a trance, but it was too late.” She tried to explain how hatred had clouded her heart, but some things could not be put into words eloquently.
Arthur and Morgana both jumped as one of the many flowers growing along the trail rose in the air and flew towards her. She flinched back, but seeing the sincere look on the warlock’s face, she took it. “I think that what has happened was destiny and fate meddling in our lives. Some things are just meant to be and can’t be changed, no matter what we see.” He looked pointedly at the woman. “We may not forgive you, Morgana, but we can understand that much.”
He looked at Arthur and the blonde looked back before nodding. “Go, Morgana. We won’t keep you anymore.” She smiled slightly and turned back onto her original trail, disappearing among the many plants.
“Do you think that was right?” he asked the blonde a few minutes later.
Arthur nodded. “It may sit uncomfortably, but it was the right thing to do.” He pulled the brunette close and kissed him. “And that’s all we can do.”
The library was quiet as usual. Arthur sat in his usual spot, near the front desk where he had an unobstructed view of Merlin. Aaron was somewhere among the many bookcases that populated this large building. It seemed the little blonde was spending more and more time here and Arthur wondered if his son had caught on to his and Merlin’s relationship and was helping his father out.
If so, he could only smile in pride at the way his son was handling it. When Elena had died when he was six, neither male Carrington had known what to do with their lives. Arthur had fallen into a slump, affecting both his work life and home life. He’d become distant from Aaron for months before he’d finally pulled himself out of it.
It was the moment his memories had come back and he’d remembered his father, how he had acted around him. He refused to do that to his own son. So he pulled through, and four years later, he had gotten passed it.
Aaron never said anything, but he knew he wished Arthur would find someone to fill in that void. Now it appeared that he had, even if it was someone from the past. He glanced over at Merlin, but he was busy helping someone out and didn’t notice.
He jumped as a pile of books landed by his elbow. Aaron stood next to him, watching him with piercing eyes. “Dad, do you like Mr. Kalenson?” he asked, eyes giving nothing away as he waited for his father to answer.
“I…yes,” he admitted, looking his son straight in the eye.
The little blonde nodded. “Good, you should bring him over then.” He smiled impishly and ran off to go scavenge more books.
Arthur groaned, burying his face in his hands at the audacity of his son. “What’s wrong?” a voice asked next to his ear.
He looked up to see Merlin leaning over him. Quickly, before he could object, he kissed him on the lips. Merlin turned bright red but didn’t say anything to chaste him. “It appears I have the seal of approval to make this official from Aaron.” If anything, he went redder at the mention of Arthur’s son knowing about him. “What do you say, want to come over for dinner?” he asked him.
“Prat,” he muttered, but nodded in acquiescence.
“What can I say, from the mouths of children…” He didn’t finish as Merlin glared at him and he started laughing, pulling him forward to kiss him on the lips again, and ignoring those around him.
xXx
A/N: Well, here you go dear. All written up. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy holidays!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}