Greetings Readers! This is the first part of a two-shot I'm writing for a Halloween Challenge at the Heart of Camelot fansite. I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Language, blood, scariness

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

Drinking deeply from his mug, Arthur Pendragon felt tired, old, and washed out. It wouldn't have made sense to an outsider, who could see his relatively young age, recognize his name from the paper as the CEO of his father's multibillion dollar company, and admire the handsomeness of his profile.

They didn't know of the hours and hours he spent trying to please his father, the stresses and frustrations from the job. They didn't know how his work was keeping him away from his beautiful wife and from spending time with his friends. He felt ill and tired, and wanted the spinning of the world to stop long enough to catch his breath.

He wasn't naïve enough to imagine that chance would come, no matter how his wife or best friend tried to prove the contrary. Arthur smiled wryly as he recalled how Merlin, attempting to use all the weight that being a doctor would give him, tried to convince him to seek help.

"Would you recommend crying to the bartender?" Arthur countered wryly, nodding to the man across the bar, "Because I'm not sure he's qualified to give advice."

"No," Merlin smirked, "But he is qualified to royally spike your drinks if you anger him, so I wouldn't push it."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "There's that famous wit of yours. Rich coming from a lightweight such as you."

Merlin's pager beeped, and he looked down, cursing. "Oh no," he gasped, "one of my patients needs emergency surgery. I have to go." He tossed the money for his drink on the counter. "Seriously, Arthur," he said, placing his hand on Arthur's shoulder, "consider it. Please."

"Fine," Arthur waved him off. "Go on and be the hero. I'll see you later."

Arthur smirked at the thought. He had considered it for all of ten seconds. He didn't need a shrink, he needed a miracle.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw the shadowy figure of an attractive woman approach. "Excuse me…"

Arthur pulled his mug closer. "I'm not interested." If he'd cared, the lack of chivalry in his tone would have chaffed. But frankly, he didn't care anymore.

Much to his surprise, the woman didn't look insulted or confused; instead she looked faintly amused. "Well, that's obvious," she said calmly, signaling for a drink, "you don't seem to be interested in much of anything."

"What?"

"It's not that hard," the woman nodded to the bartender as he slid her drink towards her, "you're getting on in years, running to seed a bit." She took a long sip and sighed in appreciation, her long brown hair falling in tendrils over her shoulders. "It's the way of things."

Arthur felt as though steam was about to blow from his ears. "What? I'm not getting on in years, or running to seed!"

A low chuckle echoed in the back of her throat. "You could have fooled me." She held up an elegant, red-tipped hand. "Calm yourself, sir, I was merely making an observation. But now," she looked towards him, her eyes glinting strangely in the dim bar light, "I'm about to make an offer."

Almost against his better judgment, Arthur leaned forward. "What kind of an offer?"

"It seems to me," she continued smoothly, pausing to take another sip of her drink, "that all you are missing – is energy. You seem so bored and dull with life, when there are such...possibilities…to take advantage of. What I propose," she leaned forward, her hand sliding into her purse, "is a way to give you more energy."

Arthur just restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "If this is some sort of energy supplement –"

The woman laughed. "No, no, it's not." She pulled her hand, curled it into a fist around something from the bag, and dropped it on the counter.

It was a spool of thread.

"You can't be serious."

"I can and I am," the woman smiled, leaning back, "this spool is the answer to your problems. Just give it a pull and see."

Breathing deeply through his nose, Arthur looked suspiciously from the woman to the spool. She arched one brow with quiet amusement and shrugged her shoulders. "It's your choice."

The thread felt thicker than he'd expected as Arthur wrapped his fingers around the spool and tested the weight in his hand. Glancing once more around to make sure there wasn't some sort of camera about, he took a fortifying breath and pulled.

Suddenly, the blood in his veins seemed to pulse with energy and he sat back with a jerk. Breath rushed cool and sweet and rejuvenating into his lungs, and the world tinged itself in a rosy glow. He felt young, he felt enthused, he felt invincible.

The redness became a golden haze, intensifying into the world glowed so bright he could no longer see anything. He soaked in the brightness, reveling the feel of absolute, untethered freedom.

When the light faded and he once again could see, Arthur panted from the aftershock and turned with wonder to the woman. She smiled at him.

"Bright at the end, isn't it?"

"That is unbelievable!" Arthur stared in wonder at the spool that made him feel alert and rested and jubilant, in ways he hadn't felt in years.

"What do you want for it?"

He had already began to open his briefcase when she held up a hand. "Nothing at all. It is something of an experiment of mine. All I ask is that you tell me what you think of it should we ever meet."

The businessman in Arthur felt a little suspicious at the offer of anything free, but the memory of the rush of energy swept any misgivings away. "Of course."

A shrill beeping drew Arthur's attention to his watch and he stood up. "It's getting late, my wife will be wondering where I am. Thank you, Miss…?"

The woman put her drink down and raised one hand in farewell. "Oh, just call me Nim."

xxx

The door snagged a little on the same piece of the doormat as Arthur stepped into his flat. He slipped off his shoes and placed his briefcase on the hall table, feeling the spool bounce against his leg in his coat pocket.

"Arthur?" His wife called from the living room, "Is that you?"

"Yes," he replied, shrugging off his coat, "you expecting anyone else?"

Gwen walked into the hallway from the living room and helped him hang his coat on the rack. "No," she laughed, "it's just nice to see you home before dinner's finished cooking."

The bitter twinge of an old argument pressed on his mind, but Arthur ignored it to kiss his wife. "I know, I'm sorry."

"And I know it's beyond your control," Gwen smiled tiredly, "let's not talk about that tonight. It's just nice to have you here. And even nicer that I don't have stacks of papers to grade tonight!"

Arthur laughed lightly as he followed Gwen into the kitchen, feeling the adrenaline he'd felt fade away into a sort of contentment. That's some sort of a miracle thread, he marveled quietly to himself, reflexively flexing his shoulder to relieve the ache that was no longer there. "Little monsters all right today then?"

"Arthur!" Gwen admonished, although her eyes were dancing, "They are fifth years, they are not monsters."

"What was that you said around midterms last term then?" Arthur replied, smirking, "Something about how the lunatics were beginning to run the asylum?"

Gwen put her hand to her face, fingers splaying over the blush on her cheeks. "It was a moment of weakness."

"Hey," Arthur said gently, stepping behind his wife to wrap his arms around her, placing his chin on her head. He smiled at the blissful sigh she made as she leaned against his chest. "It's hardly weakness if it's the truth."

She picked up the oven mitt and slapped him on the shoulder with it.

"Arthur!"

xxx

When Arthur awoke the next morning, the thought of the thread seemed almost like part of a dream. The old tightness returned to his shoulders, with the permanence he had come to accept, and he shuffled wearily into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

In the time it had taken him to shower, Gwen had roused herself and was sitting at the kitchen table, hair in a messy bun and eyes drooping. She kissed him warmly as he bent down towards her, holding up a thermos of coffee as they parted. "Have a good day at work."

"As good as I ever will."

xxx

"Certainly, Mr. Pendragon."

Arthur nodded in an authoritative way as his secretary slipped out to her desk, and then slumped into the back of his chair as the door closed behind her. It had been a hell of a day. The relief of the day before seemed even more of a dream as the morning had progressed. To make things worse, his father had decided that they needed to finish their current project two weeks ahead of schedule, and had chosen to impart this unwelcome news through his secretary.

He rubbed at the tension between his eyes and groaned, shifting in a hopeless attempt to get more comfortable.

An odd lump pressed into the small of his back. Curious, he reached behind him, digging through the folds of the coat he'd been too preoccupied to hang up. His hand closed around something and he dropped it on the desk.

It was the spool.

Fascinated, Arthur stretched out his hand, toying with the end of the golden thread. He could almost feel the pulse of energy again, without even having to pull the thread…

He pulled his hand back. He'd probably imagined the adrenaline rush of the night before. Even if not, the idea of relying on something, anything other than himself was abhorrent to everything his father had taught him. Self-reliance was everything. Still…

His fingers played with the thread. Still, it was his father who had laid all this work on him at the last minute. The string might do nothing, but what would it hurt to try.

Before he allowed any more doubt, Arthur grabbed the string and pulled.

Even the knowledge of what was coming did not dampen the rush as it enflamed his entire body. He sat upright and his mind felt sharp and alert as he looked over the work on his desk. No longer wearying, his brain bubbled over with creative ideas and insights on how to tackle the simple problem ahead of him. Arthur's very blood seemed to pulse with energy as he bent to his work, enthralled with the ideas that were rushing to the surface as his fingers flew over the keys.

Not even the blinding flash of light deterred his fervor as he worked on.

xxx

Uther sat back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "Well done, Arthur," he said, "this work really is some of your best. I'm impressed."

Arthur nodded, struggling to suppress the grin threatening to spread across his face. "Thank you, Father."

"I really had expected," Uther said, in a voice just approaching wonder, "that that would take up until the last minute to get this finished. But you have pleasantly surprised me." He stood up from his seat and walked over to Arthur, clapping a hand on his son's shoulder. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off? There's nothing that won't keep until tomorrow or even the day after – this was the most pressing assignment we would have for the next two weeks. Get some rest."

Arthur nodded, modestly. "Thank you, Father. I think I will."

Once he'd walked down the hallway from his father's office, far away enough from the curious eyes of his employees, he jumped up in the air, clicking his heels.

xxx

Arthur kicked the door to his flat open, a broad grin on his face as he heard the whack of the door against the wall. "Gwen," he crowed, "I'm home!"

Gwen hurried out from her study, still wearing her ID pin from school, smudges of red ink on her fingers. "So you are," she replied, her tone surprised but pleased, "what is all that?"

Dropping his briefcase onto the hallway table, Arthur shifted the bouquet of roses to one hand and pulled the box of chocolates into the other. He presented the roses to Gwen with a flourish. "For you."

"Oh, Arthur," Gwen brought the roses to her face, her eyes closing as she took in their fragrance, "they're lovely." She pushed up on the balls of her feet to kiss him. "Let me put these in a vase."

Arthur followed her as she carried her flowers into the kitchen, appreciating the view as she knelt down below the sink to grab a vase.

"It's nice to have you home this early," Gwen said as she turned on the tap to fill the vase, "what's the occasion?"

"Nothing much," Arthur replied as he slid the box of candy onto the table, "I'm just finished with the Taki-san Project."

Gwen turned to him in surprise, the roses slipping through her fingers into the vase. "What?" she exclaimed, "But that wasn't supposed to be completed until next month."

Even the memory of his anger at his father's decision could not darken Arthur's euphoria. "Father felt we needed to make it up two weeks," he explained, "but I managed to find the solution and complete it today."

"Wow! That must have been some coffee I gave you this morning," Gwen joked, placing the roses on the table before sitting beside him.

Arthur shook his head, his broadening grin nearly splitting him face. "It wasn't the coffee, Gwen."

"Oh!" Gwen gently slapped her forehead. "I know that. It's all you – it's just that you've been so tired lately, so I'm surprised you were able – oh!" She shook her head. "Sorry, you know what I mean."

Arthur reached over and kissed her on the forehead. "It's okay, Gwen." He chuckled, "You're right – it wasn't just me today. Your coffee may have helped a bit, but there was something else."

Furrowing her brows, Gwen looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"You really want to know?" Arthur stood up and stuck his hand into his pocket, looking down at Gwen expectantly.

She stood up, looking quizzical. "Sure!"

He laughed again. "You're going to think I'm crazy." He pulled out his hand from his pocket, the spool sitting modestly on his palm.

"It's…thread?" Gwen reached out to fetch the spool. "I don't understand – what can thread do?"

Arthur grinned devilishly, a very attractive prospect entering his mind.

"You want to see?" Without waiting for her response, he took the spool back, putting the golden thread hard. He tossed the spool to the table and, just before the bright flash of energy took over his vision, grabbed Gwen's face with both hands and brought it to his, kissing her hungrily.

Every fiber seemed more attuned to the sensation of her hair sliding through his hands and the feel of her lips kissing eagerly back. As they parted, chests heaving for air, Gwen looked up into his face with sparkling eyes. "Arthur…"

Smirking roguishly, Arthur swept her up into a bridal hold, making her squeal and wrap her arms around his neck. "Gwen," he laughed as he began walking towards their bedroom, "you haven't seen anything yet."

xxx

As Gwen fell asleep, her head pillowed on Arthur's chest, her husband brushed the damp, beautiful curls away from her flushed face. He relished in the afterglow, his body tingling from the infusion of energy he'd felt after pulling the thread. Even as he bent down to rest his chin on the crown of Gwen's head, his fingers burned at the memory of the thread.

His hand twitched.

xxx

Arthur had decided, the morning after using the spool, that it would be best to use it sparingly. Everything he'd thought and felt seemed like a miracle – but even miracles had to run out. So, he decided to only use it when the situation called for it.

Despite his resolution, Arthur only hesitated for a few moments before stuffing the spool into the pocket of the coat.

The day at work wasn't terribly stressful, although an idiotic manager early in the afternoon made Arthur's hand convulsively twitch towards the spool, now stored in the bottom drawer of his desk. He sagged back in his chair, drained as the manager finally left, and opened the drawer. His hand grazed the top of the spool as he debated using the spool so early on – but decided if he only pulled a little bit, it wouldn't be too great a loss. So he pulled, and the rest of the day breezed by.

There were some days where he never touched the spool, although the itch for it was constantly in the back of his mind. And he never used it first thing in the morning, preferring to fall back on caffeine to give him the needed jolt to get the day started. But then, one morning, things began to change.

He stared at the pot, dismayed that they'd forgotten to program the pot the night before, leaving him with no coffee to drink. He was already running late, since the smell had not helped to rouse him, and there was no time to get more before the morning's big meeting with one of their foreign alliances.

And there was the spool in his pocket bouncing against his leg.

Arthur deliberated for only a second before pulling – and with that he was immediately out the door.

So, the days began with a quick pull in the morning, followed by a tug after lunch to fight the regular dullness that came with digestion. Some afternoons would linger on too long, and so he'd take a teatime tug to get him through the rest of the day. Other evenings, the subway would wear him out, and so he'd take another pull to keep standing up.

Keeping energetic and alert in long board meetings. Loving his wife the way she deserved to be loved. Relishing the way ideas just seemed to flow again. Embracing the feeling that he could physically do anything.

Pull after pull after pull.

It got to where he had to cut the loose thread away; the cloud of tangled golden thread completely obstructed his access to the miracle spool.

He told no one, not besides Gwen. She only saw it as a self-esteem boost, not as the miracle it was. She didn't understand.

xxx

"Hey Arthur," Merlin said, sliding onto his usual stool at the Rising Sun, "it's been ages – again."

Arthur laughed, rolling his eyes, and Merlin stared. "What?"

Merlin shook his head in slight wonder. "Mate, you know how long's it been since I heard you laugh like you weren't about to start snoring. You're looking much better!"

"I'm feeling better," Arthur nodded.

"Did you try any of those doctors I recommended?"

Arthur raised his gaze to the ceiling. "I'm a grown man, I can do some things on my own, you know?"

Merlin crossed his arms, looking stern – or as much as he could with his rumpled doctor's coat and tousled hair. "What exactly did you do then?"

"You wouldn't believe diet and exercise?"

"No," Merlin frowned, "there's something else. What?"

Arthur shook his head. "You're going to think I'm crazy," he said as he rifled through his coat, "but it's this."

He banged the spool on the counter before leaning back and folding his arms, preparing for the skepticism he was sure to follow. However, as Merlin leaned forward to examine the spool more closely, Arthur remembered that Merlin was the last to be skeptical out of their friends – in university especially, he'd been fascinated in the possibility of the supernatural.

Merlin's eyes nearly crossed as he stared intently at the spool, his nose nearly grazing the top. He stretched out his right hand, flexing the fingers slightly as he swept it through the air around the spool. Finally, brows furrowed, he brushed the top with his index finger.

He retched so hard he nearly fell backwards off the stool, and Arthur nearly upended his drink trying to catch him. Merlin waved him away, taking in deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, and the greenness about his face began to fade away.

"The bloody hell is that?!" Merlin stammered out, wiping the corner of his mouth.

"It's a spool, idiot," Arthur replied, his concern belying the insult, "I'm more wondering what the bloody hell just happened to you."

"You mean," Merlin panted, "you don't feel that? Where did you get that thing?"

"Some woman I met in a bar," Arthur responded.

Merlin covered the spool with a dirty napkin, pushing it away with a spoon. "Arthur, you've got to get rid of this thing. There's something wrong about it."

"You sure you didn't just have something off at lunch, Merlin?" Arthur drawled, the aftershock of seeing his friend's reaction fading away, "I don't think you should blame thread for your indigestion."

"It's not a joke." Merlin was unfazed. "At least talk to this woman if you won't get rid of it."

He picked up the covered spool, and suddenly Arthur was the one retching and sagging forward. Merlin dropped the spool in horror and leaned over to help, only for Arthur to instantly recover. The two of them stared at the spool with dazed confusion.

"Okay," Arthur replied, "I will."

xxx

"I need," Arthur said as he sat down besides Nim, blocking her from the doorway, "to talk with you."

"Arthur," Nim nodded, smiling as she raised a glass in greeting, "I wondered when we'd been meeting again."

Arthur wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. He'd spent hours trying to find the bar where Nim was, hampered slightly by the time it took to dissuade Merlin from following him. Merlin had early surgery the following morning, and he didn't need a bloody chaperone. He slammed the spool onto the bar. "What is this thing?"

"Ah, yes," Nim took a sip of her drink, "I should have known you wouldn't be content to just use what you'd been given without being just the least bit curious. Although you won't be too surprised when I tell you. It's almost obvious, really."

"Get to the point."

Nim's lips set themselves. "Fine. Think back to your classics classes, Arthur. Think of the Greeks and the Romans." Arthur's eyes narrowed, so she continued on. "Thread…Greeks…fates…"

"The thread of life," Arthur said reminsciently, "each person has a thread of life that would be cut at the time of their death." He froze.

"You don't mean to say that this is-"

"Yes, Arthur," Nim looked pleased, "you are literally holding someone's life in your hands."

"The hell!" Arthur almost dropped the thread in disgust. "That can't be possible! I can't have been –" He shook his head. "That can't be right – such a thing, it doesn't exist!"

"Yet," Nim countered. "I told you it was an experiment, didn't I? A successful one, given how much you've been enjoying it."

"This is murder!"

"Is it really?" Nim replied, "Life is so fleeting anyway, and I can assure you the person in question has no idea."

Arthur shuddered. "Who is it?"

Nim shrugged an elegant shoulder, examining the redness of her nails. "I couldn't say."

His fists clenched so tightly that the knuckles glowed white. "This isn't some joke!"

"I never said it was," she replied coolly, looking irritated for the first time. "There are several billion people on the planet, Arthur. You can't expect me to remember one name from all those people."

Arthur began to shake with anger and Nim sighed. "Look, if it makes you feel so uncomfortable, you can stop using it. You don't pull, the thread doesn't run out." She wrapped her fingers around her glass. "It's a simple solution really."

Gritting his teeth, Arthur reached out for the spool. It felt so delicate and heavy in his hand. He shuddered again. Glancing suspiciously at Nim, he slid the spool securely into his pocket. "I will never use this again."

"As you wish," she nodded. "It's your choice."

Arthur stomped out of the bar, not seeing the sly smile wind about her beautiful face.

A/N: And there you are, the plot thickens. Gets a bit more horror-y in the next part.

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!