Extended Summary: We all know that Merlin has a secret, but Arthur is hiding his own truth as well. As the two men struggle to conceal their true identities, Arthur's final destiny approaches, and Merlin can't let him die. In an attempt to save his friend's life, Merlin transports them both to 21st Century New York: a strange and mysterious land where secrets don't stay secrets for very long. Merthur (duh), AU, and oh yeah, gay sex.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I'm only borrowing these characters.
Chapter One: The Prophecy
Merlin:
The blade is just inches away from Arthur's skin. I am crouched where no one can see me, but I can see them: I can see Mordred and I can see Arthur and I can see Mordred's sword; I can see death. Everything is quiet, oh so quiet. The silence is screaming, deafening, and I want to cry out, I want to end this. But I know I can't save him.
During these final moments, time moves slowly, sluggishly, and I cannot turn away. I am frozen, forced to watch this gruesome scene play out. It doesn't matter anyway. I know what is going to happen. I've seen it already.
At first, Arthur's final destiny came to haunt me in my dreams. I would wake up, crying, drenched in sweat, still tasting the sickly sweet smell of blood that accompanied these visions. I would close my eyes, trying to fall asleep again, trying to blot out the images that I could not stop seeing. It's just a dream, I would tell myself, just a dream, but of course, it wasn't.
I didn't want to believe the terrible truth, the truth of Arthur's demise, so I decided to ignore it. But as hard as I tried, I couldn't stop dreaming. Soon, my dreams had turned into a sick reality. I would look into Arthur's eyes and all I would see was death. Death. Death. Death.
And Pain.
I would pass Mordred in the halls of the castle and I would feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Now I am here. I am stuck in this waking nightmare. I know exactly what is going to happen, and I cannot do anything about it. Mordred will strike the fatal blow, the blow that will eventually kill Arthur. My king will fall to his knees. His face, stripped of it's defenses, will be an open book of emotions. I will feel his anger: powerful, raging, surging. Even as he is about to die, Arthur will be as strong as ever. Then, underneath the powerful raging and surging, there will be a sadness: soft and fleeting as it mixes with the anger and melts into surprise.
Arthur is clueless; he always has been. He may be strong, brave... smart even, but he has always been hopelessly clueless. He sees the evidence, but he does not want to put the pieces together. The truth hurts too much, so he lets himself be deceived by everyone he cares about. This is why, when Mordred spears him, Arthur will be surprised, although he really shouldn't be. The surprise will be short lived, and Arthur's face will close up again, no longer easy to read, but hard and brittle: The face of a warrior. But I know Arthur. I will still be able to see the pain in his eyes.
"You gave me no choice," Mordred will softly say, almost regretfully. Then, with a last surge of energy, Arthur will rise and strike Mordred, who will crumble to the ground, his final smirk frozen on his face. In my visions, it always happens like this: Arthur will stumble forward, arms outstretched as if reaching for the life he is about to lose, but before he can continue, he falls once more, and this time he does not get up.
Yes, these are the last moments of Arthur Pendragon, but they have not happened yet. These are the moments that I have been forced to watch over and over in my mind; these are the moments I am forced to witness now, by my cruel, unyielding eyes. As time inches slowly by, as Mordred's sword flies through the air towards Arthur, I am suddenly caught by a cacophony of memories that come flooding back, and I willingly escape into the past.
My mind takes me back, way back, to the beginning. It is my first day in Camelot. I am an outsider, new to this vibrant city. And there he is: There is Arthur. Of course, I don't know that he is the prince, and I immediately hate him. Oh Arthur, you were such a clotpole back then, I think wistfully. No, Arthur is still a clotpole. Endearingly so. He is the clotpole that I have come to love throughout these years of servitude.
Images of Arthur fill my brain. Arthur laughing, Arthur hunting, Arthur ordering me around. Arthur pulling me close, so close that our noses almost touch and angrily telling me to go polish the armor. I remember nodding mutely, my tongue tied, not wanting this strange moment to end. Whatever had happened that day, Arthur was in a foul mood and I could feel his heavy breath on my face. I couldn't stop my eyes from lingering on his lips, just inches from mine, wondering what they might feel like.
"What is wrong with you, Merlin?!" Arthur spat; his little patience dwindling. "What are you waiting for? Get a move on! I have better things to do than wait around for you to do as you're told." And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed out the door, leaving me clutching at my racing heart, trying to understand the peculiar feelings that had nestled their way into my mind, these uncanny feelings that refused to go away, but instead grew into a full fledged longing that would not budge.
My memories take me back to the day Arthur married Gwen. Of course, I was happy for him. Gwen? She's a great person, it only makes sense that he would choose to make her his queen, but underneath my joyous facade, the bitter feeling of jealousy welled up within me.
There they are, Arthur and Gwen: kissing. There they are, Arthur and Gwen: embracing. There I am: alone in the stable. I am fingering my erection, hard cock in hand, moaning his name: Arthur... Arthur... softly though, so no one can hear.
Arthur...Arthur... I snap back to the present, and I can feel the tears coursing down my cheeks.
Oh, Arthur, how I wish I could save you. But I can't. Can I? The prophecy cannot be changed. Can it? I love you, Arthur.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Mordred's blade sings through the air, breaking the silence that fills the chamber, snapping me out of my haphazard thoughts. I gaze at Arthur. I drink in the sight of his chiseled face, his rough hands, his muscular body. I know that I love this man, and even if we could never be, Arthur and I, I know I cannot let him die. I am suddenly possessed by a passion, one that fills my ears, my lungs, my eyes. I will do everything in my power to save Arthur. I whisper, mangled words that make no sense, not even to me, but I harness their energy, and there is a deafening roar that I am surprised to realize is no longer in my head.
Anywhere, take us anywhere. Somewhere far far away; somewhere as far away from here as possible, I pray, and just like that my vision blurs. I have a churning sensation in the pit of my stomach, and before I can cry out with fear, I am plunged into darkness.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :) Please let me know what you think. Srsly, hand over that crit! (hint: the review button is right down there).