Hi again! So I'm alive! Big apologies for taking over two weeks to upload... Just a warning, not in this chapter but within the next couple I may instigate some Leon/Gwen aka Liam/Jen (I'm so clever ;D) Also I LOVE every ones comments! Ya'll are great! Keep the reviews coming! I also apologize for all the angst! Some lighter stuff soon I promise! ENJOY!
Chapter Nine: Coming to Terms
Arthur woke up with the suspiciously smooth sheets of the suspiciously comfortable bed clinging to him and he lifted his face from a pool of sweat. A somewhat familiar aching in his skull sloshed behind his eyes when the light of day poured from the window. What was he doing in Merlin's chambers?
"Gaius?" Arthur murmured sluggishly to the old man who'd just thrown open the shutters.
"Who?" The figure turned. He was not Gaius, and Arthur instantly recognized him as the kind physician who'd spoken to him briefly the night before. Everything surged forth from the shadows in the back of his mind—Camelot in ruins, him fainting like a little girl—but even with all the pain he was feeling, there was a glimmer of light through the thick numbness of depression. Merlin's kind words from the night before. The memory was kept sort of slushy by the drink he'd been under, but slowly it was all coming back to him, one heartwarming moment at a time.
"Arthur, I don't know why, or when, or for what exactly, but please trust me. You're Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King of Camelot, and Albion needs you… and I need you to stay with me."
The memory of the boy's blue eyes in the candle-light lifted Arthur's soul from the dark abyss where it had come to rest. It was only a thread of happiness—a lifeline of faith over a pit of wild confusion, terror, and self-doubt—but it was Merlin, and Arthur was quickly realizing that his best friend and better half was all he really ever needed.
The physician left the room without saying anything so Arthur figured he'd be back in a moment. The king stood up and braced for the throbbing in his skull as he approached the window.
But I'm not king. Camelot is dead—no! He pushed the thought away as he rubbed sleep from his eyes—Merlin says Camelot lives, and I can do nothing but trust him. Camelot was never about the place anyway…
He blinked into the sunlight and stared out at the settlement he was yet to even lay eyes on.
It was always about…
There it was, the upper and lower towns with smoke rising from refurbished chimneys. He could hear the familiar sounds of hundreds of footfalls on stone streets and people calling out to one another—with hope in their hearts.
The people…
And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Arthur's heart rose.
"You're up." The physician spoke from behind him. Arthur turned—the smile that he hadn't even known was there fled.
"Yes." The king replied. He realized quickly that this was his first time talking to someone in this new world without Merlin to keep him from sounding mad. So the appropriate first question was, "Where's Merlin?"
"I'm sure he'll be over soon. It's only seven." The physician began to fumble with the cabinets and Arthur felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He hadn't been entirely certain of what he'd used to drown his sorrows the night before, and he knew even less about the art of medicine. For all he knew, whatever alcohol he drank might have been vital to curing some disease or something.
"I see you managed to get into my personal stash, even though your body was in shock…"
"I'm sorry…" Arthur's apology was sincere.
The doctor shut the cabinet and shrugged, "Well, probably wasn't good for you, but then again, neither is getting ripped to shreds by half-living monsters and that's all men your age seem to be doing these days…" he went about his work as though all were normal, but there was a twinge of bitterness in his voice. A doctor would surely be the one to meet all injuries coming in from whatever hell was outside the city walls—this poor physician must have seen enough death for a lifetime treating people in a time like this one.
"Sorry there's no running water. They've set up a manual shower sort of thing down the hall if you're interested in that. Obviously you don't have to but it's good to be clean."
What…? Arthur thought. Everything the man had just said was complete balderdash to the medieval man's ears. He'd have to ask Merlin about it when the sorcerer arrived.
Merlin… Arthur's memories began swimming to the surface again just as the physician spoke:
"I hope you don't mind, but Shane explained to me the nature of yours and Merlin's… 'relationship' to me last night. He's never been much for the privacy of others. If it's something you'd rather keep private you can trust me not to tell. 'Doctor-patient confidentiality' you know…" The physician gave him a friendly wink.
Arthur swallowed hard, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. The doctor's wink finally broke the dam and sent the entirety of the previous night spilling into Arthur's conscious. He'd actually kissed Merlin. Not only had he kissed Merlin, but he'd wanted to do so, so much more than that. He'd been feeling strange things for the attractive sorcerer, even before the battle of Camlan, but never in his life has he connected those thick, hot sensations that made his pulse race to anything like… like lust! Oh god, what Merlin must think of him! Thank god the servant had pushed him away. And god, how did Dr. Grey know? Who else knew? What was Shane talking about?
"Umm…" He stuttered.
Arthur's face must have been florid because the physician just gave him a smile and said "Say no more. Your secret's safe with me—you may want to have a word with Shane though. You'd best hope he hasn't already gone to training because if he has a moment to chat with the other boys… well… he's a gossiper that one."
Great… now the "knights" know.
"Hello?" Arthur heard a voice that sent a pulse of elation to his heart. Merlin was peering around the door. When he saw Dr. Grey the sorcerer didn't hesitate to let himself in.
Even in the sober light of day… God… Arthur felt himself wanting him. The king blinked it away, able to contain himself for a few moments while Merlin spoke—although his eyes couldn't stop straying to those perfect, sanguine lips parting and pressing together as the young sorcerer spoke.
"Arthur…erm… how are you?"
Suddenly the third wheel in the room was Dr. Grey. But smart men like doctors always figure things out quickly.
"Right, so, I'll leave you two here… I've got to do some… um… make some house calls." He fled.
"I'm," Arthur swallowed, forcing his eyes to at least stay on Merlin's face and not stray to where he really wanted them to go. "I'm… better."
Merlin half nodded. It was a slow motion that seemed to ask 'Are you still dangerously depressed?'
"I'm not great," Arthur admitted. He'd become accustomed to confiding in Merlin about his feelings. "I won't be for a while—maybe not ever. But I'm better. And you were right."
"About what?" Merlin seemed hesitant. Perhaps he was wondering if Arthur even remembered their encounter the night before.
"This may not be Camelot anymore, but these people have made it their home and their stronghold and they're decedents of Albion. They may not need a king…" He hesitated, "But they need a fighter—not someone who sits around wasting away in bed." Arthur sounded far more certain than he felt, but he couldn't help but smile when he saw the happiness in his friend's eyes. "And who knows. Maybe they need a…" he swallowed, "a sorcerer too."
"I'm glad to hear it." Merlin grinned, "So this means you want to stay?"
"Where else is there?" Arthur shrugged—then wondered for a moment if there was anywhere else. He even wondered what this time was like before the apocalypse. How much more is there than Albion?
"So…" Merlin began as they strode out of the Physician's ward. "Last night…" A million emotions seemed to be swimming behind the sorcerer's dark blue eyes. Arthur watched with a mixture of curiosity and desire as Merlin's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
The king was consumed by anxiety—his pulse picked up like the thundering of horses hooves. His words shot out too fast to sound natural: "RELAX MER-LIN!" He swallowed and quieted himself, "I was drunk and upset. You pushed me away so good on you for that."
He hated the relief that swept through Merlin's eyes. He abhorred it more than he could have ever explained. That was proof that Merlin wasn't feeling what he was, and proof that he should never mention it again.
"Where are we going?" Arthur was looking around like a lost puppy again as they passed people dressed in strange clothes walking in groups through the palace courtyards. "Where did you sleep last night?"
"The men gave me a place with them. They all stay in the castle, not far from where the knight's quarters used to be. There a bit like an army for the community." Merlin explained. "Everyone's ready to fight but there's about forty of them that have made a little militia. They're interested in you joining up too."
"Just me?" Arthur frowned curiously.
"Well me too…" Merlin assured him with a laugh that made Arthur's skin tingle, "But I'm not exactly built like a knight am I?"
"Certainly not!" Arthur teased, "Knights are fine warriors, trained for years and sculpted to physical perfection. You're only tiny."
The sorcerer looked hurt, but not really. The truth was that Merlin had bulked up a bit since Arthur had gone under, and the king couldn't pretend that he hadn't noticed.
"So you still can't use your… powers?"
"The world forgot about Magic." Merlin replied quietly. "They might not burn me at the steak anymore, but they certainly wouldn't want some newcomer with demonic abilities sleeping within their walls. Not after all that's happened."
"Right." Arthur nodded. He knew exactly where they were headed now. And when they crested the hill and heard the alien BANG of guns he knew they'd reached the old training field of the knights.
"Aye! There's our sleeping beauty!" Liam walked up to them with a smile. He had a long gun slung over his back. Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away from the weapon that he knew was more dangerous than anything he'd ever encountered before. One day, Merlin would explain to him how thousands were massacred with the sticks of fire. "You guys here to join our little Militia?"
"Unless we're needed somewhere else." Merlin shrugged.
"We saw you two do a little fighting—and our own King Arthur over here can handle the melee stuff like a pro. He'll be handy when we run low on Ammo."
"You ride horses?" Arthur was staring past him at the two men on brown mounts. Between their thighs were strange saddles, but the king recognized equestrian equipment when he saw it.
"Yeah, most of our patrols are done in backcountry terrain. A little tough to get trucks through those forests." He laughed, "Why? Do you ride?"
Arthur tried to think of what he could say to sound like he was from this time. "A little, mostly as a kid."
He felt proud of himself for that one.
"Great!" Leon clapped his hands together, "We'll get you started on a little target practice then!"
