When Myra woke up on her eighteenth birthday, she knew something was a bit off. She couldn't quite put her finger on just what, but there was a slight twinge in her stomach, almost like she was about to be sick. She tried to brush it off as being excitement for the day - her boyfriend of three years, Gary, had promised to have a big surprise waiting for her today. Which, on any other day would be a scary thought, what with his love of tricks and pranks, but for today she just knew he'd have planned something really special.
She got out of bed a little slower than she normally did, a hand clutched to her flat abdomen. Maybe she'd eaten some thing a bit off the other day? There was that chicken in the fridge that had smelt funny, but her mum had reassured her it was perfectly edible.
Maybe not, she thought, as her stomach suddenly lurched. She panicked internally, scared to think she'd miss out on Gary's first proper planned anything. He was always sweet and cheeky, and had been a right playboy before he'd met her, but presents really weren't his fort. Both last year and the year before he'd gone and gotten her socks. Literally showed up at her door, present-wrapped socks in one hand and a smuggled bottle of wine in the other. He did make up for it both times with movie marathons and jokes all day, but in all honesty even he looked apologetic.
This year would be different though. He was beyond amazing on a normal day but yesterday, as he'd told her she would be in for a shock, he'd practically been glowing with joy. She would not disappoint him. Rubbing her mid-section, she shuffled into the bathroom. After using the toilet and quickly showering, she finally got a look at herself in the mirror. What she saw made her gasp.
Her blue eyes were bloodshot and had dark bags underneath them - even though she'd gone to sleep at ten o'clock the night before. Her face was pale - more so than her normal porcelain complexion - and her otherwise softly curling black hair looked like a cross between a bird's nest and a battlefield. She looked like a mess. Worse than a mess, she looked like a corpse. And she couldn't think of why.
As she pondered, tentatively bringing a hand to touch her face, she saw something through the corner of her eye. It only lasted a second. Barely a flash, really. But she knew, without a doubt, what she'd just seen. It was her - her face, body, her very own eyes just beside her for that one nano-second, with such a sad expression on her face... it was a look that would've made Myra herself feel sad if she weren't panicking so much from the sight. That had been her, only not somehow. Was she so sick she was hallucinating now?
Shaking her head to clear the thought - of all thoughts about being sick - she swiftly went back to her room to change and hopefully cover the signs of her illness with make-up. She would not miss her date with Gary.
Once she was happy with her outfit - she'd stupidly forgotten to pick one out the night before - a simple dark blue, knee-length dress and brown ankle-boots, she went back to her wardrobe to look for a light jacket and scarf. It was very early September and the weather was a constant cool and breezy. She settled with a light blue denim jacket and was just about to grab her favourite white scarf when a sudden, random twitch of her shoulder brought her hand to an older, red scarf. It was almost as if she'd lost control of her arm. Shakily laughing to herself, she gently pulled out the material, as if she thought it might break in her grasp.
For some indescribable reason, the otherwise ratty and fluffy scarf felt almost too-precious for her to look at. Almost as if it wasn't her that was looking at it, but someone else, someone who had memories about a scarf just like this one. Myra was beyond a little scared now. This day was already too weird than could ever be considered normal and it wasn't even noon yet.
She huffed out an annoyed breath and wrapped the scarf around her neck with one hand whilst she texted Gary with her other.
Hey. All set, when r u gonna get here?
The reply came almost instantly. Already on my way, love.
Myra chuckled to herself as she made her way downstairs for a quick breakfast. This was good, some good old Gary to cool her down was just what she needed. Despite all his sock-giving ways, he had the amazing ability to always know when she needed him - without her having to say a word. It'd been the same since the first day they'd first met. And what a day that'd been.
She'd been walking home from school, with her earphones in as always, and so hadn't heard the screeching wheels of the car that'd suddenly rounded the sharp bend. Facing the other way, completely oblivious, she would've been hit by the speeding vehicle had he not come along and pulled her out of the way. Gary. She didn't know him - and he hadn't known her - because he'd just moved to the area and wouldn't be coming to her school till the next week. But he'd gotten his arm broken for her, when he let her fall on top of him a foot away from the car that'd - thankfully - swerved left.
She'd spent the next couple days with him at the hospital, then at school, and before either of them could pinpoint when exactly it happened, they were boyfriend and girlfriend and their school's own 'perfect couple'. Inseparable and loving it. He liked to wind her up and fake-flirt with other girls and then pouted sweetly when she retaliated. Every time she had a fight with a friend or her forever-out-of-town parents, there he would be, her very own radiator-slash-cushion to take all the pain away. She liked to think she was the same for him but that probably wasn't the case.
She was pondering on just how she might try and help him, too, if he got especially unhappy one day - which really wasn't often, with his happy-go-lucky personality - when the door-bell rang. Getting up excitedly - not without her stomach lurching, unfortunately - she bounded over to open the door and smiled.
There he stood, neck-length brown hair gleaming, brown eyes shinning - the perfect picture of health and happiness. That is, of course, until he got a better look at her. She should've known she couldn't hide it from him.
"Are you okay?" he asks, stepping inside to gently cup her cheek. "You look like shit."
"Why thank you, oh-so-kind boyfriend of mine. Just sick would've done the trick." She replies, none too nicely.
He grins at her, but she can see the that there's worry in his eyes. Closing the door behind him, he follows her inside and sits next to her on the couch.
"I'm okay, really," She smiles reassuringly at him. "I've just felt a bit off this morning, is all. Nothing that'll keep me away from this surprise of yours. Now that's kept me thinking all night."
Just as she'd hoped, some of the mischief came back in his eyes as they glance down at her lips before he speaks.
"Oh is that so? And was it just my present that kept you up or was it really me?"
She tilts my head to the side, as if seriously contemplating her answer. "Hmmm... I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" She finally say, pulling his mouth onto hers for a kiss.
He responds immediately, one hand resting comfortably on her hip as the other threads through her hair. She pulls on his own long hair, eliciting a soft moan from him, and then giggles when he slips his tongue in her mouth.
They haven't really gotten far, sex-wise, but he'd said he could wait for her for however long she needed. Which was sweet, really, considering she'd already explained it could be a long wait.
She wasn't sure exactly why, considering she had no reservations about sex or him, but something had always made her feel a bit queasy about them sleeping together. Whenever they got almost there, she just had to pull out. It was almost as if her body and mind would separate - whereas her body was practically crying to be with him, her mind simply put its foot down and said no. She hoped to change that tonight.
When they finally parted, both gasping slightly but smiling, she looked up into his eyes, witty remark on her lips. But her breath caught in her mouth before she could utter a word. Just like before, for barely a few seconds, she saw something - someone - that couldn't possibly be there. In place of her Gary sat a man - a man with Gary's face, his smile - only he wore such strange clothes, like some kind of armour. And he looked so very tired.
As the window streamed in sunlight behind him, like a halo, he said only seven words. And then he was gone.
"Merlin. It is time to wake up."
"Myra! MYRA! Wake up, please, sweetie! Can you hear me?" Suddenly Gary was speaking, shaking her shoulders. When had she laid down? Rubbing at her tired eyes, she frowned at him, confused. At least he was dressed normally.
"What's going on?" She asks, her voice sounding horse even to her own ears.
"You fainted. For almost five minutes. I was just about to call the ambulance when you started to groan and open your eyes." Gary looks panicked, terrified even. "Don't you ever dare scare me like that again! I thought I'd- I'd kissed you to death. I mean, I know I'm good, but that good? I almost feel like I should be impressed-"
He stops talking after glancing at her face. His expression becomes more serious - if that were even possible - and cups her face again, like he'd done when he'd first saw her.
"Tell me seriously. Are you okay?"
She'd just opened her mouth to answer when her stomach all but punched her from the inside out, leaving her gasping for breath, and still it wasn't over. She didn't know what was happening - hadn't the energy to even think - when suddenly it was like her mind was exploding. Only it became evident very quickly that that wasn't the right way to put it.
Merlin's mind was exploding. And Myra couldn't do a thing about it.
She could still hear Gary speaking - swearing it seemed like, and trying to use his mobile - as she spasmed violently on the couch. Although she couldn't think straight it was clear enough that some foreign part of her brain - a part hidden right at the back, that'd only surfaced for the first time today - was trying to get out. To take over her. And if not letting it do so would mean to stay in this state of agony, Myra saw only one solution: to let it out.
And it was so, gasping for air for the first time in a few decades, that Merlin woke up in yet another reincarnation, hoping beyond hope that she'd meet Arthur again, finally. It was all she'd been living for for the last dozen centuries or so. It was all she could think about, an-all consuming direction in her existence since the moment she split her immortality between her closest friends and loved ones.
The first face she saw was Gwaine's, framed by his oh-so-famous chestnut waves of hair. It was good to see he hadn't cut it this time. Although they mostly had control over their reincarnated bodies before being re-awoken, sometimes they acted almost of their own accord. Last time, for example, Gwaine had had a military-short hair cut - something that had really put him off when she'd finally gotten around to waking him up.
She smiled up at him, remembering that it'd been a vision of him that'd brought her fully back, and held out her hand to him.
"Sorry for scaring you," She says gently, her reincarnation's - Myra's - memories still at the forefront of her mind. "But I've woken up now. And I think it's time you did, too."
