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Chapter 7: Drowning without Him
"NO!"
Arthur shot up in his bed, drenched in sweat and heart racing. Night had fallen, and it took him a good few minutes before the King calmed down enough to realize that he was in his own chambers and that it had already been two days since returning from the patrol.
His breath sounded loud and ragged, even to himself in the quiet of his surroundings, the inhale-exhale of the air leaving and entering his body serving as a bit of a grounding element for him. Being jolted out of his dreams made him feel not quite awake and he felt as if he needed more time to adjust. He blinked blearily in the dark as two sharp knocks premeditated the hurried entrance of Leon into his chambers.
"Sire, we heard a yell from your rooms, are you alright?"
Arthur squinted, trying to avoid the bright light of the hallway to hurt his light sensitive eyes. He felt bad, seeing the way Leon was huffing and puffing, knowing the knight had probably been dragged out of his own bed since the other, younger, knights were scared to enter his chambers.
"Yes, I'm fine. I woke up in the middle of a dream. Go back." Arthur tried to give his most reassuring look to his head knight but given the man's look in response, it was obvious, it did nothing to assuage his concerns.
"Really. I'm fine, Leon. Truly." Leon gave him an exasperated glance and retreated from the room, closing the door as he went.
Arthur hung head, feeling ashamed. As a King, to have his Knights come running in in the middle of the night because of a nightmare was mortifying. He didn't want to admit it but he had changed far too much in recent years. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he had had a nightmare that had made him actually frightened.
He ran both hands through his hair and groaning. Normally, it wasn't this bad, after all, the dream was the same every time, just sometimes the events happened out of order. It was always Merlin, in that moment right before the castle had come down on him, the last images of Merlin that he had ever seen, the young man doubled over, fangs growing long and sharp out his mouth and his eyes changing to a canine shape, gasping in pain. He could still hear his own voice, raw with panic, screaming Merlin's name and making eye contact with him just as he could see him turn from man to beast. There had been something predatory and territorial in his gaze, Arthur could see that clearly, and then, right in front of him, the castle collapsed and Arthur would wake up gasping, left again with the knowledge that he would never see Merlin again. That he was responsible for all of it, and if there had been any way to do it over, Arthur would have moved heaven and earth to save his man servant. Maybe that's why Arthur often found it so hard to breathe, because he knew he should have done more and he didn't.
He watched the moonlight dance across his sheets, tracing its shape with his eyes and found that he could no longer sleep, the urge to do so having long since escaped him. He stood then, and pulled on proper clothes, knowing that he could not walk around in the castle wearing his sleepwear, and stepped out into the hallway.
The Knights stationed outside his rooms nodded in acknowledgement of Arthur and he returned the gesture. Then he continued down to corridor until he entered the pathways to the main courtyard and turned from there, almost absentmindedly to the training yards. It was well into the early hours of the morning, and the only ones awake in the castle were the night patrol and the few servants that were preparing items for the coming morning.
Arthur had fully expected the grounds to be empty, with the time that it was, so he was surprised to hear the muted sounds of conversation coming from the courtyard of the training grounds. Without realizing it, he stopped just before he would come into view for whoever was currently sitting there. From this angle, all Arthur could see were two pairs of feet, clearly both knights, judging from the footwear.
Then he heard the sounds of a liquid sloshing around inside a bottle and groaned to himself. Only one person would dare bring alcohol to the grounds.
"It's not something I can control Perce." Yes, that was definitely Lord Gwaine, and from his loose tone, Arthur could tell he was probably by now onto his second bottle at least.
"It's his fault! He brought me here. I told him that I would rather spend my days just playing around, and then he goes and makes me care about that princess I call King." Arthur rolled his eyes, noting to himself that he was going to make Gwaine train all the new Knights tomorrow as punishment. Still, he persevered and kept listening.
"I told him that I didn't want to. But he kept coming back, again and again!" Gwaine took another large gulp and continued. "I didn't want this life Percival. I thought I was going to die alone and drunk in some seedy tavern. But then that twit comes along and he says," Gwaine gave a sort of incredulous laugh, but oddly, it sounded as if he were on the verge of tears instead.
"That scrawny kid says to me that I can do more, that I wasn't meant to leave this world without making a difference and that I should fight to make it mean something more than just booze and drunkenness." Arthur listened silently continually toeing the line between offended and sort of understanding where Gwaine was going. Percival thus far had had the good sense to keep quiet, he just sat next to Gwaine, who was getting more agitated and just made his presence known. Arthur saw him put a hand on Gwaine's knee and how the simple touch seemed to be enough to bring the man back down from the impending frenzy.
"He kept talking about it, how Arthur was different than the other nobles, that he was 'kind'" Arthur could hear the disdain in the Knight's voice as he spoke. "or how he was truly trying to create a fair 'just' kingdom, and that he needed men of the same caliber to help him achieve that goal."
All Arthur heard was Percival sigh before Gwaine began again, now lying flat on ground with head in the older man's lap.
"What am I, your mother? Get off." The startled tone in Percival's voice made Arthur realize that that was most likely the most he had ever the stoic man say since coming to Camelot. Even as a general rule, he seemed more comfortable speaking to Gwaine than to anyone else, so much so that Gwaine had almost become the defacto mouthpiece for anything concerning Percival. Arthur pondered that for a moment until Gwaine continued. His voice sounded thick and heavy, and Arthur couldn't be sure if it was a result of his emotions or his inebriated state.
"He's gone, Perce. Merlin's gone." Now Gwaine was trying to hold back real tears and Arthur was surprised to find himself struggling to do the same. "Merlin was my rock, my person. He made everything better Percival. Even when it looked like we might die, I could just look at him and think, I don't care if I die now, I have Merlin, I have someone who is mine. But he's gone and I don't know how I'm going to keep going. My best friend is gone. My best friend, my reason to live is gone and it makes me so mad, that I think I'm going crazy. I want to yell and scream at him for turning me into this mess. I want to tell him to just leave me alone. I want to go back and never meet him. I want to tell him that If he was just going to go and die like that, then why did he make me want to live, when I was only living to die?"
Arthur felt Gwaine's words knife through him and found he no longer had the courage to keep listening, for fear of what he might hear, and so Arthur fled back the way he came, the sound of his feet hitting the floor echoing loudly in his ears. Gwaine's words kept repeating in his head like an accusation. He didn't want to admit that he too felt the same way as Gwaine.
He knew he shouldn't feel like this, but Gwaine's words brought forth a feeling that he couldn't hold back any longer. He was angry, like Gwaine, but not for the same reasons. That stupid twit of a man servant had always made a point of telling Arthur that he and Merlin were in this together. And he had broken that promise. They weren't in it together.
Merlin had left Arthur alone.
He wasn't going to do it. No, he was going to resist it with everything he had, even if it killed him. It had been 3 days since Merlin had broken through the door and gone on his first killing spree since the day he'd first changed.
It had been the single most painful thing he had experienced since his time in solitude. To know that Arthur was so close was a kind of torture that Merlin hadn't been aware could hurt this much. Going through that portal had been like second nature to him. All it took was seeing his King and his friends tied up and Merlin lost total control of the restraint he had worked so hard to build for three years.
He'd snapped in an instant and broken his own rule to never take a human life again. He could still feel, unnervingly, in his human body, the feeling of bone, sinew and blood in his mouth, and how raw brute strength had allowed him to render skin from flesh in an instant. Merlin had never been more frightened and elated in his life and the unstable combination of the two emotions had made it so that he forced himself to remain in the castle for the next few days, if only to detoxify himself of that feeling of recklessness.
His old clothes, as a result of the last transformation, now needed to be mended again, and that was what Merlin was doing, in an attempt to keep himself busy. He could still hear that portal calling to him, trailing temptingly on the edges of his mind, and Merlin had to keep a firm hold on himself to avoid being lured in like a siren did to her prey.
Merlin shook his head to avoid thinking about it and focused on the task at hand. He was currently wearing dark trousers and a white shirt that he had found in another room in the castle. The warlock could only assume that they belonged to Picus, since the size now fit his own body. He looked at his fingers as they slowly worked on the pants, threading the needle through the fabric, in, out, around and repeat. The monotony allowed for a certain amount of thought that Merlin took advantage of.
He needed to find something to do. If he allowed himself to remain inside the castle indiscriminately, then he ran the risk of approaching the mirror carelessly again and that was something he couldn't afford to happen again. As much as Merlin was loathe to admit it, Arthur would have to learn how to survive without him again. Merlin let out a snort at the idea and surprised himself. He hadn't laughed in the longest time, and here he was, just a glimpse of the King and Merlin found himself somewhat in better spirits. Even if he was a monster, he could still keep an eye on Arthur. He almost smiled when he realized that Arthur would be learning to get used to getting by without having something he never knew he had in the first place.
But the smile disappeared instantly when Merlin realized that while he could see the King again, it didn't mean the King could see him again. He scolded himself for needlessly giving himself the hope that things could ever go back to the way they were.
Arthur could never know he was alive. Knowing the stupidly loyal side to the prat, Merlin could say with clear certainty that if it was found that Merlin was alive that the King would abandon everything to bring him back out some misguided sense of responsibility. That loyalty was what would ruin him if it came down to it. Merlin knew that he was only partially in control of his beastly side and he couldn't risk exposing Camelot to that, not ever. He would rather die alone in the woods like an animal than cause his friends have to put him down. That is if they would even be able to do so, he could still see his own nightmares clearly, the ones in which he ripped his friends apart mercilessly while he screamed, a prisoner in his own body.
Merlin threw the clothes down to the floor, suddenly fed up with the task and stood. He grabbed his cloak and bow and arrows and ducked out towards the rear of the castle. He needed food and hunting was the only way to get it considering winter was approaching soon and all the animals were starting to disappear. Merlin had to get out the castle, away from the mirror and his foolish thoughts.
Wrapping the black cloak around himself, Merlin pulled up the hood and stepped out into the cold, relishing the sharp sting of the air on his cheeks. The temperature grounded him in the present and Merlin forgot, for the while, that he was a monster and that he was resigned to a life of hiding and focused on using his heightened senses to locate his prey. He knew he probably shouldn't feel as content as he did while hunting, but it was a welcome change from the misery that permeated his existence and for that Merlin was grateful.
He walked briskly into the forest, listening carefully for sounds of life as he went. What he heard however, was prey entirely different than what he expected. Merlin listened closely and realized he was hearing the sounds of screaming and the sounds of flesh striking flesh. He kept walking through the forest until he found the source of the noise.
It didn't surprise him that when he emerged from the forest, he was on a cliff on a mountain overlooking Ealdor, and that the sounds he was hearing were coming from a house farther out in the village, almost completely at the base of the mountain. His lip curled in distaste as he recognized the scene. It had been a frequent one when he lived in the village, when he was young and helpless.
The door to the hut opened and Merlin saw a young woman stumble out, falling to the ground in an ungainly heap, and recognized her to be Evelyn. It was old man Ivan's daughter, and from the way she was holding her stomach, Merlin was sure that what he was seeing was another instance of Ivan's way of 'disciplining' his child.
Even from where he stood, Merlin could see that Evelyn was covered in injuries, all in various stages of healing. Moments later, another figure came bustling out and crouched next to her, and Merlin recognized the person as Evelyn's mother, Merina.
"Please Ivan, she apologized!" Tears ran unchecked down her face while she gathered her daughter to her chest protectively. Ivan came tottering out unsteadily out after them, tankard in hand, and Merlin saw that once again, Ivan had taken to beating his daughter while drunk. When he was younger, it had been a daily occurrence and no one had ever been able to do anything about it. Merlin had a soft spot for Merina too, considering she was the only woman in town that had ever treated his mother with the common courtesy expected of each other.
Clearly Evelyn and Merina were terrified, as were the villagers who watched the going's on warily, no one brave enough to interfere. Ivan was a large hulking man, easily the biggest and strongest in the village, a trait that he made sure to emphasize. He considered himself a rather significant prize and that's why, the villagers would whisper amongst themselves, that he had forcibly wed Merina, since in her youth, Merina was widely considered the most beautiful maiden in Ealdor.
Merlin watched as Ivan stomped towards the cowering women and kicked Merina hard, sending both mother and daughter sprawling. Merina was coughing and Evelyn seemed more concerned for her than herself. Merlin felt himself grow angry. He was done. Done watching from the sidelines.
As Ivan made to go after them again, Merlin felt his eyes flash and suddenly the ground rippled minutely under Ivan, so that even he didn't know what was happening until it was too late. Ivan lost his footing, sliding and falling down on the ground and rolling down the hill his home was situated on. A loud snap was heard and then silence for a moment before Ivan began to shriek in pain, holding his left leg when he finally came to a rolling stop.
In his moment of victory, Merlin failed to notice that someone in crowd below had seen the figure on the cliff. But he couldn't help the feeling of slight satisfaction that coursed through him and he watched for only a few seconds longer before he turned and disappeared back into the forest, searching for his next prey.
Arthur tossed and turned. Then tossed and turned again. Arthur lay flat on his back in the darkness of his chambers and sighed. What was he a child? Afraid of a few nightmares? This was ridiculous. Was he that scared? He sat up and groaned. It was no use, he couldn't sleep. He reluctantly slid out of the bed, stoking the fire in his hearth, rubbing his hands together and warming them before sitting on the desk in front of it. Arthur lit the lamp on the table using the fireplace, since he felt that he would be unable to sleep, Arthur decided he would get a head start on the items needed for tomorrow.
He settled in, knowing that it was very early in the night and hoped that doing something tedious like this would be enough to make him tired enough to ignore the nightmares in favor of sleep. But he was wrong, an hour passed, then two hours and then three and Arthur was no closer to sleeping than he had been before, although on the bright side, he was done most of the work for tomorrow entirely.
He was almost getting ready to lose it again when he heard a light tapping on his door. He sat up straight in his chair, and cleared his throat.
"Come in." To Arthur's surprise, it was Hunith who peeked her head in the door before walking in fully, shutting the door softly behind her. She wore a soft exasperated smile on her face as she walked towards him.
"Lady Hunith, to what do I owe the pleasure of you visiting me? I mean not that I am not happy to see you, but it is quite late. Is something the matter."
"You." Hunith replied simply, stumping Arthur for the moment. He blinked, not quite sure what to make of the monosyllabic response.
"Me?"
"Yes, my King." She bowed her head, and Arthur noticed for the first time that she was carrying a blanket in her hands. "I was told that you were having trouble sleeping."
Arthur sputtered incoherently, vaguely upset that someone would violate his privacy like that until he remembered Leon's face from a few days ago. Of course. Only he would meddle so much in a trivial matter like this. He slumped back in his chair, hanging his head back over the back.
"I told Leon I was fine. Honestly, that man treats me as if I were a child."
"Sire, if I may?" Arthur looked back at Hunith and she gestured to the fireplace. "I have something that may help." She blew out Arthur's lamp and grabbed his hand, stunning him. He allowed himself to be dragged out his chair and brought to sit on the fur padding in front of the fireplace. Hunith left him there for a moment while she brought pillows from his bed to lean against. Then she finally sat down next to him.
In the low flickering light of the fireplace, Arthur could see Merlin in her features, from the line the of her nose to the set of her jaw. It was only her eyes that were different, and Arthur supposed those were what Merlin inherited from his father. The father he had never heard anything about.
"Tell me about him." The words were out of his mouth before Arthur was aware he was asking the question. Hunith looked at him questioningly.
"About who my King?"
"Merlin's father." Arthur saw the widening of Hunith's eyes and her swallow nervously. He held her hand, in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He didn't know why, but suddenly he was realizing that there was a lot he didn't know about his manservant, and though it was late, he needed to know everything about him. Maybe he needed to know everything about Merlin before he could even think about letting him go.
"It is not a happy story, Arthur." She said gently, her eyes downcast. Arthur gently held her hand, and just looked at her.
"Just the same. If you can bear to, please tell me."
Hunith's eyes softened and she used the hand that Arthur was holding to draw him to her. She had him lay his head down in her lap, facing the fire and was silent for a moment before she begun.
"It was many years ago, after my mother and father had died, that I met Merlin's father. It was a time of fear. Many people were being persecuted and hunted and no one felt safe in our village."
"Ealdor?" Arthur asked, Hunith shook her head.
"No, this was before Ealdor, I lived in a small house, on my own, some distance from the border to Pellinor's Kingdom. It was my parent's home that I had inherited with my brother, though I lived in it alone, since my brother had gone to work for the King."
"Gaius."
"Yes."
It was quiet while it seemed that Hunith was trying to look for the right words.
"I keep trying to remember if anything special had happened that day, before he came. I wondered if there was a way I could have known how my life would change. But no matter what I do, the answer is the same. Everything was the same and yet, everything was different." Her tone was a sort of wistful that Arthur couldn't even begin to understand but nonetheless, she continued on.
"It was the early hours of the night and I was asleep when I heard banging on the door. When I woke up, I saw my brother standing in the doorway, drenched to bone. It was raining terribly and at first I thought he was alone, until I noticed someone standing next to him." Arthur found it incredibly comforting to hear her voice wash over him while she threaded her hands through his hair. He didn't even think she knew she was doing it.
"The first look I got of him was frightening honestly. He had these eyes Arthur. They looked as if they could see your soul in one glance. Gaius told me in no uncertain terms that I had to hide him. He was being pursued by someone and he had nowhere else to go." Arthur gave her a look and Hunith laughed a little.
"I realize how it sounds, but remember at the time, there was no one I trusted more than my brother and if he needed this, than I would help him no matter what the cost. So, after dumping him on me, my brother left right then and there. It was possibly the most awkward I have ever felt with another human being in my life." She looked into the fire, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality.
"He was a unique man, standoffish, but kind. He spoke unkindly but was quick to lend a hand or offer help. After some time, his being there became as natural as the air I breathed. His presence in my life went from intrusive and uncomfortable to necessary. I never realized how alone I had been before I had met him."
"How did you know you loved him?" He heard a soft cluck of her tongue as she pondered the question.
"The day we realized we were in love was the last time I ever saw him."
"What?"
"He had already been with me for two months and he grew more nervous each day, wondering if today was the day that those who sought him would find him. We sat together, one night, in front of the fire, and talked, as we did everyday. Nothing was different, Sire, and yet, everything felt different. We just looked at each other and realized that it wasn't enough anymore."
"Wasn't enough?"
"Just being near each other wasn't enough. I felt like I had to know everything about him. It was like fire, Arthur. Both of us knew very well that what we had couldn't survive but when we looked at each other, it was like we needed each other like the air we needed to breathe and without him, I couldn't. I couldn't breathe. I still can't." Hunith reached behind her, grabbing the blanket she had brought, and draped it over Arthur, the movement natural and only a measure of comfort.
The motion was a like a splash of cold water as the blanket settled. He was assaulted suddenly by a scent he had not smelled in years.
"Is this -" Hunith looked a little startled, from the way Arthur shot up out of her lap, clutching the blanket.
"Merlin's? Yes, I thought you would – Arthur?" But Arthur wasn't listening anymore. He felt like his entire body was throbbing and he knew suddenly, why he couldn't calm down.
It was like she said. No one could tell when everything changed, because it wasn't obvious, the same way the air you breathe wasn't obvious. It never had been because he had always been there. There had never been a reason to address it because there had never been the indication that he would lose it.
He couldn't breathe because Merlin wasn't there. He crushed the blanket to his face, feeling the tears splash on to it, knowing he was moments away from sobbing like a child. Everytime he inhaled, he could smell him, the scent of ink, herbs and iron polish, like a sword stabbing at the barely healing wounds on his soul.
His shoulders heaved from the effort of resisting the urge to cry, and Hunith, bewildered by this sudden display of emotion could do nothing else but draw him into her embrace.
He had only just realized it and it was too late.
He was in love with Merlin.
He had loved Merlin. Merlin who was dead. Merlin who never know how he felt because Arthur had killed him.
Arthur loved Merlin and there was nothing he could do about was a fool. An utter fool. He should have known. The moment he left, the light had left Arthur's life.
The moment he was gone, Arthur couldn't breathe because Merlin was his air and without him, Arthur was slowly suffocating.
Drowning in a world without him.
