Chapter Five: Revelations in the Night
"Merlin!" Arthur whispered through clenched teeth, trying to keep quiet so that he wouldn't wake up the sleeping knights—soldiers—whatever it was these strange men with their strange weapons were. There was a familiarity surrounding the scene that Arthur didn't understand—perhaps it was how much these men reminded him of his knights. At that thought, a quickly stifled wave of lament swept over him.
Merlin groaned and rolled over. Arthur kicked him again. They were on the second floor of a small building, not unlike the one above the jousting ring that had once stood in Camelot. It was closed on all sides and the sleeping group was surrounded by windows of that same smooth, colorless glass that Arthur had been seeing everywhere. How people had managed to fashion it into such large panes Arthur was yet to wrap his head around: Which reminded him of another flood of questions he had to ask Merlin—immediately.
"MERLIN!" Arthur hissed, this time not hesitating to flick his sleeping companion lightly on the back of the neck. Merlin's body tensed and he let out a small yelp just in time for Arthur to slide his hand over the servant's mouth, gripping his face roughly and turning it toward his own. Merlin's deep gray eyes were wide with confusion. His face was warm to the touch—almost pleasantly so—but Arthur shook the thought out of his mind and proceeded to give the young sorcerer an impatient glare. Just like old times.
Arthur jerked his head in a clear "come this way" gesture then took another look around at the men who were fast asleep around them—all except for Shane who was out in front of the small building keeping watch. Arthur had been up all night, studying their shift rotations, so he knew Shane's wouldn't be over for at least another hour, give-or-take.
Once his he removed his hand from over Merlin's lips, Arthur crept to his feet, careful that his armor didn't make any unwanted sounds. He heard the quiet thud of Merlin's footfalls following close behind him. The door was latched from the inside, and although the lock was more complicated than those Arthur was accustomed too, it wasn't hard to figure out.
The hatchway opened surprisingly quietly, allowing Merlin and Arthur to slip through without a sound. Once shrouded in the darkness of the empty first floor, Arthur shoved Merlin past him. With a quiet thud, Merlin fell against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Arthur was down in seconds, pinning the young sorcerer against the stone wall and hissing:
"What the hell is going on Merlin!"
Arthur watched Merlin swallow before answering in his usual calm voice, "I don't know what you mean."
"Yes you do Merlin!" Arthur made sure to put extra emphasis on the servant's name. His heart was flooded with a mixture of confusion, frustration, and something he hated like fear. The young king could only hope that Merlin didn't see it in his eyes.
"You'll have to be more specific than that." The young sorcerer's tone was verging on teasing, which sent rippled of heat up Arthur's spine. Suddenly the he was aware of how close his face was to Merlin's. Even in the near-darkness, he could see the slight flush on Merlin's high, ivory cheeks. The king's eyes betrayed him, straying down to the servant's pink lips which were shifting from a mischievous smile to an expression of innocent confusion as the Arthur suddenly struggled to find his words. He swallowed and took a step back, hoping that the red rising in his cheeks would go unnoticed in the dim light that surrounded them—especially since he didn't understand why.
Arthur coughed, suddenly feeling like his clothes were to tight, "I mean these men. What's the significance behind our names?"
Merlin seemed to shake himself out of some sort of daze before answering in a low tone to match his king's. "It's the legends-Of Camelot, and of you and me. I always said history would remember you. You were-are perhaps the greatest king to ever live…" There was a sad fondness in Merlin's eyes.
Arthur straightened up, struggling to process the words coming out of the sorcerer's mouth. He inhaled, trying to take in the strength to ask the question that had been gnawing at him all this time.
"Merlin," He began, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "What happened to Camelot?"
A wave of sadness seemed to come crashing down over the young sorcerer, forcing Arthur's heart down into his stomach. Merlin's face told him everything he needed to know. A painful hiraeth consumed the king as he pressed his palm against the wall, fearing he would lose the ability to stand.
"It…" Merlin seemed to struggle, "It fell. It was conquered."
"B-by whom?" Arthur couldn't meet his best friend's eyes.
"The Normans… a few hundred years after your—um—your death."
When Arthur was silent, Merlin went on. "They took most of Britain. I kept expecting you to come back then—but apparently a darker day was coming for Albion."
"And that time is now?" Arthur swallowed his sadness and managed to speak; holding his head higher as if feigning strength would give him some.
"It looks that way." The sorcerer replied. There was kindness in his silvery-blue eyes that Arthur had seen many, many times before. He felt a weak little smile flash across his face as he looked away from Merlin again and spoke.
"And these 'legends'?"
"Camelot lives on in the hearts of men. Although, most people are convinced it's just myths and legends. Fairy tales with movie adaptations."
"Mova—what?" Arthur frowned.
"Nevermind." Merlin smiled, "It's not important. Especially since I doubt there's going to be any movies for a while."
Arthur didn't exactly know how to reply to that so he changed the subject.
"Those weapons that the men up there have…"He didn't have to finish for Merlin to give him a look of understanding. Whatever they were, they were bloody terrifying—and Arthur wasn't afraid to admit that to himself. He'd spent the past hours of fake-sleep staring at them. The men pulled a small, finger sized lever and they struck down armies.
"Guns." Merlin answered, "Firearms. They fire bullets." He seemed to realize that Arthur didn't understand any of what he'd just said. "You pull a trigger and a little sharp ball of led shoots out of the barrel fast enough to tear right through a man's armor."
"And that's what they did to those-erm—those things back there?" Arthur nodded his head in no direction in particular.
"Yeah." Merlin replied. "Think of it like a bow and arrow, but it takes much less skill to learn, it's 500 times more accurate in the hands of a non-professional, and 500 times more deadly—on a large scale at least. Not to mention you can shoot from much further away and still hit the same target. And you don't have to reload every time you fire."
Arthur's confusion was replaced with awe—and a hint of apprehension. What if such weapons were turned on him—or Merlin?
"I'd bet wars these days are over much faster." Arthur suggested.
Merlin's voice tone was both light and dark at the same time. "I think you'd be surprised."
Once again, Arthur internally mused over the things Merlin must have seen and experienced in all his years of immortality. He prayed that one day the two would have chance to sit down for hours and Merlin could spill his lifetimes out to Arthur.
"So is that the only reason you through me down here and nearly beat me up?" Merlin teased.
A warm smile stretched across Arthur's face. "I didn't beat you up, you clotpole!" the king stole Merlin's favorite insult, nudging him playfully. "And also, the knights upstair—I mean soldiers…"
"Yeah, I keep calling them knights too…" Merlin looked up as if he could see them through the ceiling. "They just have that way about them I guess."
"Yeah, a bit of a brotherhood." Arthur finished.
"I was thinking more like their habit of bullying other people." Merlin muttered loud enough for Arthur to hear. When the king turned to Merlin the young servant was grinning at him, running his tongue nonchalantly over those pink lips. Arthur gave him a teasing death stare and things felt like old times again—a feeling Arthur was beginning to treat like a drug. Something sweet and addictive. Something that only Merlin could give him.
"You know…" a new voice cut through the pause. Arthur turned to see Shane leaning in the doorway, his long haired silhouette looking smug. "If you two wanted to be alone you could have taken watch. I wouldn't mind the extra sleep."
Arthur's cheeks flushed with that annoyingly familiar fire again and he coughed uncomfortably. Merlin was looking equally awkward.
"We weren't no—We were just talking." Arthur assured the almost-stranger.
Shane shrugged, "Hey," he started to walk past them, "You two could be reading poetry for all I care. Just don't' do it when I'm in the room."
Apparently Arthur had miscalculated when it came to how much time was remaining in Shane's shift. Moments later, Price came down looking just as huge and intimidating as ever. He had a gun, one of the longer two-handed ones, slung across his shoulder. When he saw the two standing in the storage room he said nothing—which seemed to be customary for him—but an amused grin crept across his face. Arthur had a sudden impulse to smack it off of him but thought better of it.
"You guys had better finish up in here. We've got a long trip ahead of us in the morning." Shane called from the top of the stairs. Arthur shot him a look, then turned to Merlin who couldn't seem to meet his eyes.
"We probably should get some sleep." Merlin suggested quietly.
"Yeah." Arthur agreed as they started back up the stairs. Wherever they were going tomorrow—"the castle"—Arthur knew he would be faced with a hundred more things he didn't understand. He'd need his energy for that. On the other hand, he wasn't sure why, but he didn't think he'd be getting much sleep lying back-to-back with Merlin for the rest of the night.