Chapter Thirteen.
The door to the club slammed opened loudly. Arthur, a little disheveled and smelling to high heavens like opium, sweat, and gun smoke, burst through. Merlin, just a step behind him, and the Knights filtered into the club, too. The Camelot looked like a warzone, with empty glasses littered about like corpses, whatever liquid left inside trickling out like blood.
Morgana was sitting at the bar, drumming her fingers on the wood. Gwen was behind it washing dishes to distract herself from her worry. They both jerked to attention at the sight of their champions.
"Oh, thank god," Gwen breathed. She always worried whenever the Knights went into battle, but she never showed it until they were all home safe.
"Victory was ours," Elyan told her happily. He held open his arms as she rushed around the bar and gave him a hug hello. Quickly, she moved on to Lance, her expression filled with relief as she pressed her cheek into his chest.
"Oh, thank god!" Morgana echoed Gwen, not so much for their victory but for the Kings' defeat. Finally, a week after Annis had heard of Arthur's plan to take the last two dens, did it happen. The plan went perfectly. The Kings never saw them coming.
"So, that's it? They're gone?" Morgana made sure as she stood up from the barstool.
Arthur's heart was still pounding in his chest. His fists were tense with energy. His skin vibrated. When he walked, his feet struck the floor like they could turn the Earth.
"Gone," he confirmed. His throat scratched and his voice was a bit hoarse from shouting. "The Black Kings have no more holdings on the West Side." He'd waited a long time to say that. The rush it gave him didn't disappoint.
He looked to his side, at his men clapping each other on the back in triumph and brotherhood. Elyan shook Merlin's shoulder, too. Merlin had been there when they won the den, and when they got news of the Caerleons doing the same across town. Arthur had been wary at first, and afraid Merlin would only distract him during such an important fight. But Merlin had been adamant about going.
"You'll exaggerate how great you were when you talk about it later," he'd said. "I'm coming with you so I can tell people the truth."
"What, that you cowered beneath a table the whole time?" Arthur had retorted.
But Merlin went, anyway. He wouldn't have missed it for anything, and Arthur was secretly pleased he'd been at his side.
And now Merlin was included in the celebration. He's become one of them. He fit.
Arthur wondered if he should tell his friends what had been going on between himself and Merlin. Over the past week, he'd spent the night with Merlin four times. It was wrong keeping their relationship a secret for so long. But something stopped Arthur from revealing it.
What would he say, anyway? He wasn't really certain what to call whatever was between he and Merlin. It felt like more than just sex. It was only the start of their relationship, but it felt a whole lot like an ending.
Arthur cleared his throat, and the chatter died down. "Why don't we all get some rest," he said, more like an order than a suggestion. "I'll see you all here tomorrow morning."
Everyone seemed to agree. They began saying their goodnights, and filtering back up the stairs in twos and threes. All of them called a goodbye to Arthur as they left. Merlin did, too.
Arthur wanted more than that. He wanted to kiss Merlin goodnight.
When everyone else had disappeared, Gwaine stood at Arthur's side.
"Seems the Bandits didn't know about our trick," he said.
The thought had occurred to Arthur. "Seems so," he answered. He started up the stairs, and Gwaine followed.
"Mordred's not their man," Gwaine continued, filling in the gaps. "Told you we could trust him."
"You did. Multiple times. It was annoying."
As they stepped into the ring, Gwaine held his hands up in an innocent shrug. "What can I say, I was rooting for the kid. So, this means I can take our snitches off of him?"
Arthur let out a heavy breath. He now knew Mordred was trustworthy, but that only left him with more questions. Somehow, the Bandits had known where Arthur had hidden their liquor supply. Somehow, they knew the exact night the Camelot had received its first shipment from Tristan and Isolde's farm. Somehow, they were able to poison it.
Mordred could be trusted. But the Kings had found out the Knights' secrets. Arthur just couldn't reconcile the two.
"Yes," he said, knowing it would be a waste of resources to spy on Mordred any longer. Maybe he even felt a little guilty for the scrutiny he'd placed on an innocent man.
Gwaine offered him a tight smile to show he was pleased, and slapped Arthur's shoulder to say goodbye. When they exited the club, Gwaine went left in hopes of meeting up with the others. Arthur went right in hopes of catching Merlin.
When Arthur reached the road, Merlin was half a block ahead, slumping with his hands in his pockets as he walked, a shadow amongst the orange streetlamps. The neon lights of the buildings along the water glowed pale and sickly, painting the sidewalks in a rainbow of color that didn't look quite right in the dark, early morning solitude.
Arthur rushed after Merlin. The slapping of his footfalls echoed against brick walls and desolate tar roads. The sound caught Merlin's attention. He looked over his shoulder and stopped walking so Arthur could catch up. Ahead, headlights sprung up in the distance along the avenue.
"You shouldn't be walking alone at this time of night. It isn't safe," Arthur joked when he reached Merlin.
"Right," said Merlin, "what with all those cut-throat gangsters around these parts."
Arthur smirked at him, watching the Hudson breeze tousle Merlin's hair.
"Let's go somewhere," he said at last. It didn't matter where they went—any place would do. It must have been well after four in the morning, but that hardly mattered, either. It was New York. Somewhere was bound to be open.
Merlin laughed and looked off, as though trying to find a reason to resist temptation. "Aren't you exhausted?"
Arthur couldn't even think about sleep. He was too wired, too pumped-full of adrenaline from the night. "Not in the slightest!"
"Killing a bunch of people riles you up?" Merlin asked dryly, raising a brow.
"Winning does," Arthur corrected, "which is exactly what happened tonight."
Merlin sighed. His breath fogged around him—the very first hint of autumn's chill revealing itself. His eyes were sparkling, and he was on the cusp of saying yes.
"Oh, come on!" Arthur pressed. "What else are you going to do? Go back to Alphabet City? You shouldn't, you know. The Bandits won't be happy about tonight. It'll be dangerous to be affiliated with me. To be my—." He stopped himself, gesturing vaguely to Merlin as he searched for the correct term.
Both Merlin's eyebrows were raised now. "Your what? Bartender?" he supplied. "Lover?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. He was happy the sun was still down, and that the shadows masked the sudden heat in his cheeks. He'd always hated that word. Lovers were people in steamy, complex affairs, riddled in deceit and passion, in Victorian novels. Arthur had never experienced something so ardent. He'd never been in love before.
He didn't even know if he was in love now. Maybe. All he knew was, when he looked at Merlin, Arthur felt like he'd been knocked over—splintered into bits and pieces by an invisible force, and he wanted Merlin to put him back together.
But he was no expert on love. He wasn't really sure what love meant. He'd never had two parents, or anyone else, to use as a model for a relationship. All he ever saw was Uther's sadness.
Is that was love is? Sadness?
"Whatever this is," Arthur answered, powering through his awkwardness. It gave him no satisfaction at all. "What is this, anyway?" He had to know—if this was love, if that particular bud would ever be allowed to flower.
Merlin shrugged and pouted. He looked down at his shoes and kicked at some invisible thing. "Do we have to call it anything?"
It probably shouldn't have frustrated Arthur. If he didn't know what was between them, how could he expect Merlin to? But he had. "Well, I should know what to refer to you as."
"Most people just call me Merlin."
"I think I prefer idiot."
"Prat."
Perhaps Merlin was right. It might have been best not to give it a name just yet. It was what it was, and they'd figure out the nature of it with time. Neither of them were going anywhere, after all. Or, at least, Arthur hoped not.
Maybe that's what love is. Hope.
Anyway, it was clear that Merlin was too tired to paint the town. His posture suggested he'd much rather be lying in bed. Arthur decided to take pity on him.
"Fine. Just—don't get murdered on the way home."
Merlin snorted. "I think the term is normally goodnight."
Arthur watched another stream of headlights as they approached. "You wouldn't have such a good night if you were killed, would you? I thought the meaning was pretty clear."
A taxi was coming down the block. Arthur whistled for it. As it headed for them, Merlin said, "Then, you try not to get murdered, either."
"I'll do my best."
The taxi pulled up the curb and Arthur opened the back. He hovered in the door momentarily before changing his mind. He turned around again and chastely kissed Merlin—because he wanted to. Merlin kissed back—because goodnight didn't feel right without it anymore.
Only then did Arthur fit into the backseat of the taxi and give the driver the cross-streets of his apartment. As the car merged back onto the avenue, Arthur cast a look over his shoulder out the back window. Merlin was still standing there, watching Arthur go. He was bathed in scarlet from the break lights. His hands were in his pockets again. He lifted one out to hold it up in a wave.
Arthur waited until Merlin had started walking again to face forward.
Early the next morning, there was a knock on Merlin's door. Lots of knocks—more like a pummeling, really. The beefy messenger on the other side told Merlin to meet Cenred at the factory immediately. Merlin allowed for a loose understanding of the word immediately.
He'd decided that he was done with the Kings. That didn't mean the Kings were done with Arthur. Merlin had no intention of telling Cenred or Kanen what the Knights were up to anymore, but he still had to be a spy—only now, for the other side. He had to know what sinister plans the Kings were concocting so he could prevent them. For Arthur's sake.
Kilgharrah had said Arthur might just become the next kingpin of Manhattan, so long as Merlin played his part. Merlin was starting to think he might have been right.
So, he came to Cenred's beck and call, but he took his time doing it. That, at least, gave him a sliver of satisfaction. Just because he had to continuing working with the Kings didn't mean he had to like it.
When he got to the factory, the office door was open, as it always had been since Cenred occupied it. Kanen had made the back room of the Essetir his temporary office—which gave Merlin more satisfaction than his tiny tardy rebellion, until he remembered that he also hated Cenred.
However, it wasn't just Cenred inside. Kanen and Sigan were there, too. So was Morgause, perched on the side of the desk again, with her eyes trained on Merlin as soon as he walked in like she'd sensed him coming from down the block. Merlin put his guards up at the sight of the four of them. This wouldn't be some chat where Cenred asked him to report on the Knights. Merlin felt like he was walking into the lion's den.
He thought he preferred dragons.
"You're late!" Kanen sneered as soon as he saw Merlin.
Merlin pulled a mock-innocent face. "Sorry?" he offered.
"Never mind. We'll just have to make this quick," Cenred said in a tone as razor-sharp as ever. He gestured to the chair in front of him. Merlin walked behind it but did not sit down. He didn't want to feel anymore ambushed than he already did.
"I have a meeting with the future Mayor of New York in a few minutes," Cenred continued.
It piqued Merlin's interest. The meeting could have been about anything. The Kings had put the new Mayor in office, after all. Cenred could be calling on him for a favor once his term officially started in January—and that favor could have been about the Knights.
Merlin remained casual, pulling a mildly confused yet dutiful face, and asked, "What for?"
"Oh, it's nothing to do with you or Arthur," Cenred assured him, waving it away. "Mr. Walker and I have other business to discuss regarding the police commissioner."
Soon-to-be former police commissioner, Merlin assumed from the thorny grin Cenred was giving him.
"Speaking of Arthur," Cenred went on, as though Arthur wasn't the reason Merlin had been called upon. "He and his Knights raided the last of our dens on the West Side yesterday. He's finally managed to push us out of his territory."
He made no mention of the Caerleons. As far as Cenred was concerned, the West was Arthur's. All Arthur's. Merlin tried not to swell with pride, just as he tried not to show his worry over how Cenred might lash out next.
"I take it you knew?" Cenred queried off Merlin's silence.
Merlin nodded. "I was there."
Cenred and Morgause's expression remained unchanged, but Kanen's flashed with anger. "And you didn't think to tell us about their plan?"
Merlin kept his tone even. "I didn't know of it until it was happening last night."
It was a lie. Merlin knew about it before Annis did.
"Arthur didn't tell you beforehand?" That had been Cenred. Now, he looked curious. The expression didn't conceal the accusation in his tone, however. "I thought you were a part of the Knights' meetings now. You had been last I stepped foot in the Camelot."
"No! I'm not." That was a lie, too. Merlin had known about the plan before Annis did because he was in the room when Arthur and the Knights were coming up with it. He hadn't been at first. He'd walked into the office with a bottle of whiskey and some glasses, and then Arthur told him to stay and provide his opinion about the strategy. Merlin hadn't known why Arthur had done it. (He still didn't know.) But he generally wanted to be as close to Arthur as he could all the time—a feeling that appeared mutual—so he'd stayed.
"I wasn't in the meeting you walked in on, either—not really," Merlin went on. That, at least, was the truth. "Gwaine—uh, one of the Red Knights—asked me to help talk Arthur out of buying the new club."
Something he said must have interested Morgause, because her dull, dark eyes turned sharp. "Arthur listens to your opinion over that of his Knights?"
Merlin opened his mouth to protest. All he did was trip over his own tongue.
It gave Sigan enough of a gap to voice, "It doesn't matter about your opinions. Your job is to find out information, not wait around until Pendragon tells you something!" He'd said it directly to Merlin, as though voicing his concerns to his superiors would be disrespectful.
Merlin had no problem being disrespectful. "Isn't his job to collect information? Shouldn't he be slinking around some sewer with the other rats?"
"Yeah, well, at least I'm no traitor," Sigan spat back. "At least I never put the Golden Knight up in my flat for the night!"
Merlin's stomach dropped. It must have been a visceral reaction, because Sigan smirked smugly in victory. Everyone else's eyes were on Merlin, too, watching him carefully. Merlin didn't know what to say. He wanted to deny it—it was on the tip of his tongue. Who's word would they believe? His or Sigan's?
Most importantly, how did Sigan know?
Merlin had gone very pale. Words escaped him.
It was Cenred who spoke, his voice calm. "The morning after the explosion, Mr. Sigan saw you accompany Arthur to the Astor Place Subway Station."
Merlin closed his eyes. He remembered the panic that had washed over him when Arthur kissed him, the dread that someone had seen them together. He should have listened to his instinct on that day. He should have paid better attention to the tingling in his mind and the prickling hairs on his arms.
"Did you harbor him that night?"
Merlin opened his eyes. He would not let this be Arthur's undoing.
"Yes," he admitted into a gulp. When he breathed, he forced it to clear his head. He willed another lie to surface. "He knows where I live. He dropped me off after work once when the subway in Chelsea broke down." He spoke slowly, trying to come up with a story on the fly but trying not to make it sound obvious. It was plausible so far: Merlin didn't have money to burn on taxi rides. And the subway broke down all the time.
"After the explosion, Arthur came to me. He was wounded. He trusted me to put him up until he could leave the East Side unseen."
"How did he survive the fire?" Cenred pondered.
Merlin bit the inside of his mouth. He tried very hard not to look at Morgause, or else he'd lose his nerve in thinking she possessed some kind of telepathy.
He had to answer quickly, but came up empty. "He didn't say." He prayed to whomever was listening that Cenred bought the story.
Cenred narrowed his eyes at Merlin again, trying to read him.
"And why didn't you come to one of us and tell us you had Pendragon with you?" Kanen asked in a low growl.
"Because he didn't just harbor him." Everyone's eyes went to Morgause, but she was looking at Merlin. Again, he got the distinct feeling that, unlike her husband, she could read him. She raised a brow. "Is that so?" She already knew the answer.
Cenred sat back, looking pleased, taking Morgause's word as the indisputable law. Kanen and Sigan exchanged perplexed glances.
Merlin swallowed hard. He didn't want to tell the truth. It was private. It was his and Arthur's alone.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Kanen finally asked into the quiet. Or at least, it was technically quiet. Merlin had never heard silence so loud, so full of weighted conversation. "What else would he have been doing?"
Cenred and Morgause completely ignored the questions.
"You've done as we discussed?" Cenred asked.
Merlin didn't look him in the eyes as he nodded feebly. He hadn't done it for Cenred or anyone else. He'd done it because he wanted to, no ulterior motive. But, suddenly, it felt like he was under Cenred's thumb. He was repulsed by his own actions. He hated himself for putting Arthur in the middle of it.
"Hold on," Sigan said, obviously having worked it out. He must have remembered the kiss he'd witnessed. "You're not saying—?" He looked at Merlin in utter disgust. "Are you sleeping with Pendragon?"
"What?" Kanen jumped once the information clicked. He gawked at Cenred. "You don't mean—? You told him to do that? For god's—He's a boy! He shouldn't be perverted like that!"
Merlin would have scoffed in how offended he was if he hadn't been so hotly embarrassed. He felt like his skin was trying to crawl off his bones and hide. This shouldn't have been any of their business!
"Oh, don't be so close-minded, Kanen. Merlin certainly isn't," Cenred said with humor, which only made Merlin flush more. "Now, we can go ahead with the plan."
"What plan?" Merlin and Kanen asked in unison, the rise in their tones for different reasons. Merlin forgot his embarrassment and thought only of Arthur's future.
"You," Cenred schemed, turning back to Merlin. He was smiling again in that knife-edged way that managed to simultaneously make him more handsome and more ugly. "You have Arthur's affection, but does he love you?"
Merlin actually managed a scoff that time. He scoffed again, like the idea was ridiculous. He knitted his brows together and pulled a face. He stuttered. The idea was ridiculous!
His heart soared at the possibility.
"No!" he said forcefully. "Of course—Arthur? Definitely not!"
"Then, you must make him," Morgause stated, stopping Merlin in his verbal tracks.
He blinked at her. She did not blink back. He tried to remember if he'd ever seen her blink at all.
"Why?" he asked, when a good soldier would have asked, how?
"There are more ways to destroy a man than with a weapon. Betrayal from the one he loves will pierce deeper than any blade or bullet ever could." Her voice was toneless and unsettling. She wasn't reasoning, but confident. Factual. Merlin realized the plan had been hers all along.
"Then, Arthur will be vulnerable, and we can end this once and for all," she finished.
End him, was what she meant.
Upon their first meeting, Morgause had eyed him like he was a grenade. He got the crushing feeling that she'd just pulled out the pin.
"Make him love you," Cenred ordered clearly. "Wait until he says the words. Then, tell us. We'll take care of the rest."
Merlin looked at them all in turn. Morgause and Cenred appeared to be waiting, looking for all the world like proper psychopaths. Kanen looked uncomfortable with the plan, or maybe he was just uncomfortable with the newfound discovery of Merlin's sexuality, but would not speak out against either one in Cenred's presence. Sigan glared with more contempt than usual.
"Okay," Merlin said with a shrug. His tone was quick, effortless, nonchalant. Because it didn't matter. He wasn't going along with the plan, so what was the point of seeming anything less than agreeable? If Cenred thought Merlin was following orders, he wouldn't be distrustful. Merlin could continue to spy on the Kings and continue his relationship with Arthur.
Besides, the plan was for not, anyway. Arthur would never love Merlin. Arthur was like the sun—too bright, too golden, too unattainable. Merlin was lucky to feel his warmth, but that was all. Soon, gravity would pull Merlin away just as quickly as it had made him revolve a course around Arthur. And then there would be nothing, and Merlin would just have to live with it. Or freeze.
Merlin never wanted that day to come. He'd fight tooth and nail to stave it off.
"Okay," Cenred repeated, satisfied. "Then, go on. Get to work."
Merlin nodded to Cenred and Morgause. He forced himself to flash a glare at the other two men in the room before he left.
It was night. It was quiet, all but for ragged breaths.
Arthur rolled over onto the mat of the square circle. His breath was floating somewhere above him, just out of reach. Next to him, Merlin was panting with the same flushed exhaustion. His bare chest, the black hairs on it sleek and matted, rose in erratic procession.
"So. That's boxing?" Merlin asked in a daze.
"Sort of. Not all of those moves were strictly legal," Arthur answered, watching the ceiling high above them turn.
"Should I be jealous next time you get in the ring?"
"Only for worthy opponents."
Merlin's rumbled. Arthur's laughter was more like a long exhale.
As the film of perspiration lining his body dried, his skin prickled with the chill of the night. He reached for his long jacket, which might have served as evidence that he and Merlin had meant to leave the Camelot after closing and go to Arthur's apartment, but they hadn't quite made it out the door.
He spread the jacket like a blanket over them. It only reached their knees, and midway up Arthur's chest. Merlin huddled in closer.
"Kilgharrah would probably have a heart attack if he saw us here," he said.
Arthur rolled onto his side and scrunched his nose in distaste. "Please don't mention Kilgharrah while I'm lying naked next to you."
At first, Merlin chuckled, but his expression soon twisted into horror. He cupped his hand over his eyes as though trying to blind himself. "Oh god," he choked. He dragged his palm up his forehead and into his hair. "Such a bad mental image!"
Arthur bit his lower lip to stop himself from laughing.
"Make it go away!"
Arthur obliged, even though Merlin had brought it on himself. He held Merlin's cheeks steady and kissed him so no other thoughts could survive.
"Better?" he asked afterwards.
"Better," Merlin confirmed with relief. He sounded sleepy, and his eyes were still closed. He nuzzled into Arthur's chest and grumbled happily.
Arthur wondered how pathetically fond he must have looked in that moment. He couldn't stand to break it, so he settled in. Staying for a few more minutes wouldn't kill them. Besides, the sun was still down. It would be hours until anyone reported in for work.
He rested his head on the mat and watched the steady rise and fall of Merlin's freckled back. His eyes started to droop heavily. Soon, he was dozing . . .
Behind Arthur's back, the main door of the building boomed opened. Arthur started, on high alert as he looked over his shoulder at the intruder. His newly conscious mind was convinced Cenred had sent someone to burn down the Camelot, too. His pulse raged with sudden adrenaline.
And then he noticed the morning sunlight pouring through the windows. He blinked rapidly at the silhouettes crowding in the doorway. When his eyes adjusted, he was staring at Morgana, Gwen, and all of his Knights. They were each giving him amused but bewildered stares.
It was Morgana who spoke. "Arthur? What are you—?"
Before she could finish, Arthur felt movement next to him. Merlin propped himself up on his elbows. His hair a ruffled mess, he blinked at the group over Arthur through squinted, groggy eyes. Eventually, it must have caught up to him that he was naked, save for half of Arthur's jacket still flung about him. He suddenly looked very alert.
In the doorway, Morgana's jaw had dropped, but she still managed to wear her sly, holier-than-thou smirk. Gwen's palm flew to her mouth as she squealed with delight and hit Lance's chest with the back of her hand, just in case he hadn't noticed. He had. He and the rest of the Knights were whooping and wolf whistling and clapping, hollering things like "Finally!" and "About time!" Leon opened his wallet and handed a smug Gwaine and Percy a few dollars each.
Arthur dropped his shoulders and turned away. He met Merlin's stare with an air of defeat. Merlin only pursed his lips to the side and shrugged.