Breathe Again
The museum was busy today, the children on school trips pressed their fingers and faces against the glass, the adults; when they thought no one was looking trailed their fingers across the cold, glass surface. They reveled in the feeling it brought them as they stared at the beautiful etchings on the sword.
The sword of legend, the sword of a man who lives even today, in the hearts of those who have heard of his deeds. Excalibur. It stood alone, a wooden sheath lay next to it with carvings that were obviously done by hand. There was a message carved into the soft wood, but it had smoothed with age and wear; and the only thing legible were two words.
Stay Safe.
Everybody crowded around King Arthur's sword, which left an exhibit in the corner of the room completely desolate. For who would prefer to read a book when they could look at a sword? King Arthur's sword no less.
A boy, about ten years old wanders off from his mother, bored of the sword and her incessant ramblings. He headed over to the corner where the book caught his eye. He ran a hand over the leather bound cover, the smooth, old leather leaving a pleasant fuzz under his fingertips.
He opens the front cover, glancing at the language he didn't understand. The boy slowly flipped through the soft, discolored paper worn with age and use; not unlike Excalibur's sheath; both were obviously cared for and loved. The boy flips through the book, his eager eyes studying every detail, when a page floats out of the book.
It looks as if it is written in a hurry, a quick note to a lover perhaps? The boy bends down to pick it up, and something inside him cannot help but recognize the scrawl of the handwriting. The way the 'M's curl as the writer addressed it to his love,Merlin.
The letter is short, mostly full of 'I'm Sorry', 'I love you' and 'Forgive me.' The sides were torn and ripped, as if someone had begun to crumple it up and cast it away before desperately smoothing it out again. Tears stained the paper, the boy traced a finger on the water stains; sure that they were his from another time.
He remembers the feel of the paper, still crisp and new in his hands. He had held it so tight, the sharp edges of it had pierced his skin; quick and painless, blood was drawn- but it was left hurting for days.
The boy stares down at the signature at the bottom of the letter.
You are my king,
Arthur.
The boy feels the familiar pain stab at his chest; the unknown feeling that would surface at the weirdest of moments. The emptiness, the loss; the boy knew now what he was missing and what he had to find.
Arthur.
"Colin! Time to go!" The boy turns around, he wanted to set the book where it belonged, next to Excalibur. But his mother was already calling, and they were going to go for ice-cream if he was good! He folds the letter and slides it into his jacket, above his heart.
The leather bound book sits alone and battered, while Excalibur's display case is cleaned until it shone. The lights click off one by one and the night falls silent. The book and sword can see the stars through the large skylight. The stars are not unlike they were in the time of King Arthur and Merlin.
The Kings of Albion that ruled side by side and brought prosperity to the land. Their people rejoiced, and for a long time, the people and their Kings forgot the meaning of true suffering.
But with happiness there must come pain, and did it come. War came to Albion, as did the wrath of Mordred and his army. The book and sword; useless as they laid next to each other on their Kings bed. King Arthur and King Merlin's crowns were tossed next to them; forgotten. For now, for the night; they were simply Arthur and Merlin.
Prat and Idiot, respectively. Tomorrow Arthur would ride out into battle, without Merlin at his side. He had made Merlin promise, swear, years ago before he was ever crowned king that if it ever came to this, Merlin would have no chance of getting hurt. Arthur would have never taken the chance.
Merlin had made Arthur promise that he wouldn't go too. Arthur promised. Merlin knew he would break it. The next morning, with the empty space next to him, Merlin found the letter, where his lover laid the night before.
The book and sword saw everything. The pain, the heartbreak, the lust; oh had they seen the lust. They had been the very instruments that had gotten Merlin and Arthur to act on their love in the first place.
It was the day Merlin had told Arthur about his magic. The prat had still been pretending to be angry and intimidating when he had used Excalibur's blade to turn the pages of Merlin's magic book.
Both boys shuddered as a shiver passes through them. Their eyes seek out the other, and all Merlin sees is Arthur's pale lips parted as he breathed hard. Arthur watches his friend's eyes as they get darker with want.
Arthur pushes the blade of the sword into the book, and they both shudder and the pleasure; bright and burning passes through them. Merlin's knees buckle and he is panting at Arthur's feet as his king continues to stab into his book; into Merlin.
Neither of them are aware when the book and sword are thrown aside, but soon steel and paper are replaced with skin on skin. Merlin's lips are bitten and dark, his hips bruised with the etchings of Arthur's fingers.
Every visible surface of Merlin was marked by Arthur. He wanted to tell the world that this man, thisbeautiful, loving, stupid, idiotic, clumsy, loyal, affectionate man was his. Arthur wanted to make sure no one would ever take him away now that he had him. Merlin knew better.
Though his skin bore his lover's marks; they with time would fade away, but the permanent marks he had made inside Merlin; the things he makes him feel, would never fade away. No matter how much time would pass.
The book and sword would claim the credit if they could, but the love had already been there between the two young souls. The trust, loyalty and friendship that had grown and evolved as they risked their lives for each other over and over again.
It was a bond that could never be broken.
Merlin rides into the battlefield, his magic wild as a wall of flames burst from the ground, engulfing enemy soldiers. His eyes burned with the cold gold as a King of Albion searches for his other half.
Only to find that he had fallen.
The book is grabbed roughly and stuffed into a backpack as someone hisses. "Be careful with that! If Merlin finds out…" One of the men laughs and runs a hand through his hair. "Oh please. He barely even remembers, I certainly doubt he's gonna get angry over some book."
A bright light fills the room and Excalibur and it's sheath reappear in the hands of a boy who looked no older than twelve. He holds the sword, the hilt familiar, it's balance comfortable. He exhales slightly as if he was underwater, so close to the surface but not yet able to breathe.
He opens his light blue eyes that seem older than those of an average twelve year old. "It is not just a book, Gwaine." The boy lifts his head to stare at the dark blue of the night sky that reminded him of the eyes of a lover from long ago. He takes the book gently out of the backpack and cradles it to his chest. It was finally where it belonged, after all these years; next to Excalibur, it's other half.
The joking mood is gone, and the older man replies softly. "I'm sorry, Bradley." Because they all are. The end was so bad, the bloodshed and tears that sent the world flying into chaos and insanity. It only made sense that they were to be reborn in such a time.
They were here to set things right. Their beginning would be better, the boy promises himself as he grips Excalibur tightly. He would make sure of it.
The next morning Colin manages to elude his mother as he escapes back to the Arthurian exhibit of the museum. He ignores the empty sword case and bee lines towards where the book would be. He feels his heart pounding as he stares at the empty podium, it wasn't there.
His only link to himself was missing. Colin feels the tears leak from behind his eyes, the empty feeling was back again, the loneliness that pricked under his skin and in his heart. He'd have no chance in finding him now.
"You never did care much for my swords did you, Merlin?"
The boy blinks his tears away as he whirls around to face the blonde boy. His heart is beating faster, the empty feeling is gone - he is finally whole. Merlin stumbles forward, his hands bunching in the older boy's shirt. He doesn't dare believe it, all these years of feeling so empty, so lonely- all gone, all over. He would never be alone again.
Warm arms circle Merlin's waist, and he leans his head on Arthur's shoulder. He feels his King exhale, the warmth of his breath on his cheek.
Arthur could finally breathe.