Author's Note: Hey guys! So I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you who are reading this story, and to all of you who left reviews. They make my day, and if you have a moment, I would love to hear what you think, how to improve, or even just what you like about the story. There's nothing better than a review for a writer. On that note, I'll tell you that this story was originally written as a birthday present for a friend, and started as mere fluff that got merrily out of hand. So I apologize for the upcoming chapters which are both shorter and increasingly hard to believe as far as plot goes. I wasn't sure how to end this story, so it's kind of a lame resolution (again, your thoughts on the matter are much appreciated). There will be two more chapters after this one, and they're both already written, so I hope to have them up really soon (after I make sure there are no embarrasing typos).

Okay, so I think that's it. Thanks again you guys, and remember, reviews make my day! And now, I hope you enjoy this next installment of Live Like Magic.


"Merlin? Merlin, it's Gwen. I'm calling because we haven't heard from you in a while, and you said you'd call, and you didn't. Is everything alright? Call me back okay?"

"Hey Merlin it's Lance. Gwen asked me to call. Look, I know you're probably busy with Arthur, God I really don't want to think about that, but just, call Gwen alright? She's driving me mad. Oh… don't tell her I told you that. Cheers mate."


JANUARY 13, 2011

One day, Arthur thought to himself, I will actually listen to Morgana.

Arthur was cold, increasingly so as the hours ticked by and no one came to remove him from this cement room. They had taken Arthur's hood off and thrown him in here, literally, thrown, and Arthur was pretty sure his head was bleeding from where he crashed it into the far wall. His hands were bound and his pockets were empty, after a preliminary search had deemed cell phone and chapstick too dangerous to leave with the prisoner.

Fuck, Arthur thought. I'm a prisoner.

He had scooted himself across the floor until his back hit the wall, letting his cloudy head rest on the hard stone behind him. He knew he was losing a lot of blood, and was smart enough to know that was a very-not-good thing. He was trying to stay still, to not exacerbate the problem, as well as trying to puzzle out why he'd just been fucking kidnapped. Obviously it had something to do with his father and the politics of the Pendragon family, and very likely had something to do with money as well. Arthur was running through likely suspects in his head, anyone that might have sufficient motivation to commit a high-class felony, but he was having trouble focusing due to all the cotton that had somehow made it into his brain. His body was telling him to sleep, to sleep it off and when you wake up you'll feel better, and Arthur was fighting it with all of his might, but it became harder and harder as the night became colder and more of his blood dripped onto the floor.

Then, "Who the hell is this?"

Arthur sat bolt upright, causing blood to rush from his head and a wave of dizziness to wash over him. He knew that voice.

A new voice spoke. "He was in the room with the Earl."

Merlin. Arthur strained to hear, inching closer to the door and pressing his ear against the cool metal there.

"Doing what?"

"Getting in the way."

Arthur spared a moment to mentally berate Merlin for not just hiding under the duvet like a good little girl.

"Is he part of the peerage?" The first voice was back, a hint of worry creeping into his tone.

"Unlikely, sir. We believe he is a commoner."

"Why didn't you just shoot him?" Arthur twitched violently away from the door. Best be on my toes then, he thought, Morgana's words ringing in his head.

"Might seem suspicious."

The first voice laughed. "Because Earl disappearing from his own home in the dead of night wasn't suspicious at all."

The other man remained silent, apparently at a loss for how to respond.

"Very well. Throw him in with the Earl, since they're so close."

Arthur had a split second to throw himself away from the door before it was yanked open to reveal Agravaine, looking, for lack of a better analogy, like the cat who had gotten the canary.

Trust no one, Morgana had said. An image of Merlin chucking her letter into the trash bin popped into Arthur's head, and he winced. I'm sorry, Morgana.

Agravaine smiled down at Arthur, dressed to the nines in a perfectly tailored suit, looking oddly out of place here in this cold cell. Behind him was his lackey who was dressed in combat blacks, and behind him, being dragged along the cement floor, was Merlin.

"And how are we this morning, Lord Pendragon?" Agravaine spoke pleasantly from the doorway. "I trust your accommodations are to you liking?"

Arthur remained silent.

"What?" Agravaine cupped a hand to his ear. "No accusations? No threats? Tsk tsk, Arthur. Whatever will we do with you?"

Arthur watched as the soldier (mercenary?) pulled Merlin into the cell, his long limbs all akimbo. He was clearly unconscious, and Arthur caught a glimpse of a large welt on the back of his head, blood matting his hair and staining his skin.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, Arthur thought.

He wanted to shout, to scream, to beg Agravaine to let Merlin go, but he could hear his father's voice in his head, "don't reveal your weaknesses, Arthur, they will only be used against you." And so he watched, silently, as Merlin was dropped haphazardly onto the floor beside him, and Agravaine, still smiling that pleasant smile, gave a little wave and shut the heavy door, pitching the room once again into semi-darkness.

As soon as the footsteps receded down the hallway, Arthur scooted quickly over to Merlin, trying to take in the damage. He wanted to touch, to smooth back the hair that had fallen into Merlin's eyes, but his hands were still tied tightly behind his back. Merlin's eyes were open, but they were unseeing blue, staring up blindly at Arthur. Merlin's hands were bound, same as his, and he could see where the zip tie was cutting into Merlin's wrist.

This is insane! Arthur thought, mind racing to think of a plan, of some course of action that would be beneficial. But his mind was cloudier than ever, and he was barely staying awake now. He caught another glimpse of Merlin's injury, and to his own horror started laughing.

Look at us, Arthur thought. We can have matching scars.

This whole thing was so ridiculous. Merlin, beautiful, ridiculous, insane Merlin, sprawled out with Arthur on the floor of a cell where he was being held against his will by his political advisor. Good. Right. Smashing.

Against his better judgment, Arthur laid down beside him, ignoring the nausea that was threatening to overwhelm him. He scooted as close as he possibly could, basking in what little heat was coming off of Merlin's body. Then, he let his weary head fall to land on Merlin's chest and allowed the slow descent into unconsciousness.


"Merlin? It's Gwen again. They're saying on the news that the Earl of Albion has disappeared overnight. Merlin, please tell me you and Arthur haven't run off to elope or something. Why haven't you called me? Worst best friend ever. Stop snogging Arthur and call me back you prat!"

"Merlin? Lance here. Look, Gwen is going mad, you have to call her mate. She's worried about you. Arthur's disappearance is all over the news, even here in America. I know something is going on that you're not telling us. If you don't let Gwen in on it soon she might actually fly to London and find you, so just pick up the phone, alright? Merlin? Merlin!"


The next time Arthur woke up, it was to find Merlin hovering over him, repeating his name like a broken record.

"Arthur! Oh bloody hell! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!"

"Merlin," he croaked out, and he heard Merlin breath a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank you Jesus- Moses- whoever. I thought you were dead! There's blood everywhere and you looked dead and why are we even here? This is so crazy! Have we been kidnapped? Oh fuck. We've been caught haven't we? We're in the Tower of London. The Queen is waiting outside to behead me, or string me up by my thumbs or-"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said, not meaning it. It was so good to hear, Merlin sounding normal, and he could almost forget where they actually were.

"But think of my thumbs, Arthur."

"Screw your thumbs."

Merlin let out a gasp of horror. "Do they still do that?"

"Possibly," Arthur said, making to sit up and instantly regretting it. "Probably."

He could sense Merlin fluttering around, trying to help and failing miserably, completely useless without access to his magic hands. "Arthur, stop moving."

Arthur decided this was a wise course of action, and let his head fall back onto the floor. "You suffered a head injury as well, why aren't you a hopeless case?"

"You mean I'm not a hopeless case?"

"It's debatable."

"I feel fine," Merlin said, shrugging.

Fine, Arthur thought. He had a welt the size of a grapefruit on his head.

"Turn around," he instructed Merlin, and saw that somehow, the wound that he had seen when Merlin had been dragged in was completely healed.

More like disappeared. It looked like he had never been injured at all. If it wasn't for the residual blood dried and crusty in Merlin's hair, Arthur would say he had never been hurt. It was like magic.

"How's it look?" Merlin asked, turning his head to talk over his shoulder. "Am I going to make it?"

"It's gone," Arthur said, bafflement clear in his tone, and Merlin made a spastic attempt to try to see the back of his own head.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"I mean," Arthur said slowly, "gone. As in never hurt."

"Well shit," Merlin said. Then, a slow smile started forming on his face and Arthur watched as his eyes became golden, penetrating the darkness to stare out at Arthur. "That wasn't supposed to happen yet."

Trust no one. Surely Morgana hadn't meant Merlin; she didn't even know Merlin. But Arthur was starting to get concerned, especially when Merlin whispered something that had way too many vowels to be English and the tie around his wrist snapped free with a crack. Merlin's hands flew forward, reaching for Arthur, and without thinking, Arthur rolled sideways, dodging.

Merlin looked genuinely surprised, before something like understanding passed through those molten eyes.

"Oh, shit. Arthur, no." He put his hands up, palms out in a sign of peace. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I promise." He spoke in that strange tongue again, and Arthur felt his own binding snap open, immediate relief coming to his sore wrists. Arthur brought his hands up to his face, surveying the damage. Merlin thankfully stayed where he was.

"How did you do that?" Arthur asked, picking the zip tie off the ground to study it. It wasn't broken, and when Arthur pushed the end of it through the clasp, it held fast, tight as ever. "That's not possible. It's like…"

Like magic, Arthur's brain supplied.

Merlin said nothing, just stretched out one hand, eyes darting to Arthur's wrists.

"Hælan."

Arthur watched as the cuts on his wrists healed, skin meshing perfectly together, leaving no trace of any sort of wound.

"That's not possible," Arthur said, fingers tracing over his wrists, finding nothing there, no pain, no scar. "How can you do that?"

Merlin smiled, waggling his fingers at Arthur. "Magic hands."