Where there is no prophetic vision
the people cast off restraint,
but blessed is he who keeps the law.
- Proverbs 29:18
The familiar warmth of a scratchy blanket and stiff mattress rouses him out his slumber with no memory of the intervening years.
"Gaius? Am I late?"
Without opening his eyes he stretches stiffly and frowns at the tightness in his arms. He doesn't remember being injured recently.
Someone moves quietly around the room and Merlin lies still to listen to their patter, unwilling to get up and face the morning just yet.
"Merlin?"
Merlin's eyes snap open. "Arthur? What are you-" He takes in his surroundings from the cheap sheets covering his body to the TV set in the corner playing the fore-heard music and snaps them shut again. "You're not really here are you? It was just a dream."
He feels it as Arthur draws closer to him and settles on the bed at his side. "What was a dream Merlin?"
His voice is soft and caring in a way Merlin doesn't think he's ever imagined before. Wasn't Arthur supposed to be mad at him? Dreamily he rolls to turn on his side, hoping to recapture the hazy moments where he'd still been in Camelot and his world hadn't fallen apart yet. A pair of hands gently but firmly rolls him back.
"You've got to keep the circulation up in your arms. That means no sleeping on your side."
Merlin peers out from under his lashes and briefly scans the room for whomever had touched him but sees no one but Arthur. He sighs wearily. So much for that. Who'd brought him here anyways, and where are they? And why wasn't he on meds? His eyes flick toward the hallucination of his King and close again in denial. "I suppose I have to get up now?"
"No. Just rest. I've decided to give you the day off." There is laughter in Arthur's voice and it takes a moment for Merlin to process that he's made a joke. The Arthur in his head never makes jokes. He opens his eyes and looks.
This Arthur is paler than he remembers by several shades though he still sports a tan much darker than Merlin's own skin. He doesn't have the muscles of a knight in constant training either. Merlin had never pictured him this way, with his wavy blond hair shaved close to his head and dressed in clothing of the, what century was it again?, the twenty-first century rather than the fifth. Everything adds up to a conclusion he can't help but denounce. He can't be real. He can't. Not after all this time. Not after everything.
"You're not really real Arthur." His eyes fly open suddenly worried that his King might take offense. Part of him ridicules himself for not making up his mind. Either he's not real and he can't take offense or he's real and he can. He ignores the logic. He's magic. Since when had things been logical? "I'll still do anything for you. I don't care if you're not real, but, but you're not, right? Promise me?"
OoO
"Promise me you're not real?"
Arthur grimaces. When Merlin had first woken calling for Gaius as if they were back in Camelot Arthur had been tempted, only for moment, but tempted to play the charade for as long as he could until Merlin had opened his eyes and remembered and the world seemed darker again.
"Of course I'm real." He mumbles. "Why shouldn't I be?"
Merlin shrugs carelessly. "It's just that you haven't been, that's all. I didn't see you at first of course. That only came later. But ever since you died, you've never been real. Why would you be this time?"
Arthur struggles to wade through his friend's broken explanations. "It's only been fifteen years Merlin. You've only been here fifteen years this time. What happened?"
Merlin frowns as if trying to calculate something. "No. That's not quite right. It's only been ten years this time. Before that it was five and before that it was twenty. That was a good time. Everyone was doing stuff so I wasn't crazier than anyone else."
Arthur clutches his hair in frustration. Merlin had always been a tad mad, no one who wasn't would have done half the things he'd done without a second thought, but it had always been a friendly sort of madness, a cheerful, 'always have your back', kind of madness. This. He doesn't know what to do with this. With a Merlin who's madness threatens to harm him at every turn.
Merlin squints sideways at the lone thumbnail sticking out of the bandages and attacks it viciously with his teeth.
"Stop that Merlin." Arthur reaches to nudge away the damaged limb but Merlin's already dropped it. Right. He has total control over the boy now. All he has to do is say the word and Merlin will go to the ends of the earth to fulfill it. Somehow the idea of Merlin doing what he's told for once doesn't make Arthur feel any better. Just the opposite. He feels sick at the thought that of the cheeky, insolent person he knew being so broken.
When he looks up again, Merlin has drifted off. Arthur tucks him in more firmly and then takes the opportunity to step into the adjoining hotel room.
"How's progress?"
Gwaine looks up from his computer. "Progressing. The hotel feed is already looped with our prerecorded footage. Now if I can only…"
He trails off as numerous pop-ups appear and he leans in closer to read the fine print in the new programing screens. Arthur leaves him to it. Trust Gwaine to be a skilled troublemaker no matter what era he occupies. In the time of myths that meant skilled swordsmanship and a silver tongue. In this day and age the silver tongue is just as smooth but weaponry has been abandoned for technology.
'If you need a gun now a days you're not good enough' or so Gwaine had told him once, ' if your using brawn you're either horribly inefficient and likely to get arrested or are working much too high up in politics for my tastes'.
As much as Arthur sometimes wishes for the simplicity of the old days when a dozen skilled warriors could keep the peace just fine thank you, he has to agree. A single man armed with a bomb made in his garage and no training whatsoever can take out as many civilians today as a small army then. Times have changed.
"I'm going to get some coffee, need anything?"
Gwaine grunts in negative so Arthur lets himself out and heads downstairs. For a minute he dithers over taking the car to get something decent and then remembers Merlin. He can't be left alone for long and Gwaine is too preoccupied with other matters to babysit. Lobby coffee it is.
"Did you hear about the breakout?"
Arthur idly attunes his ears to the conversation as he fills his cup and grabs a creamer.
"What about it?"
"Well they're saying a mental patient broke out of the hospital. No one knows how he did it or where he went."
Casually Arthur pours in the creamer and stirs it gently.
"Any leads?"
He perks his ears.
"Not that they've let the news hear about. Got a picture of him up though."
"Yeah, I saw that. Freaky looking bloke, aye?"
Arthur's heard enough. He passes on the news to Gwaine and then returns to Merlin's room.
He looks so peaceful sleeping there as if he'd simply had an exhausting day and nothing more than a good night's rest would have him up and about as usual.
"Promise me you're not real?" The remembered plea shatters the illusion. Tousling the messy black hair one last time Arthur settles back in his armchair. Merlin will be ok again if Arthur has to drag him there himself. There's nothing to cry about. He'll fix it.
OoO
When Merlin next opens his eyes the sight of Arthur quietly reading next to him nudges his subconscious just a little further in favor of accepting the man's presence. He'd never seen Arthur willingly read a book before without the utmost reluctance, certainly not as a hallucination. Burrowing back into his blankets he allows the muted banging of pipes somewhere in the building, the hiss of a shower next door, and the dry rasp of the page on page as Arthur makes his way through the paperback to lull him into complacency. Nobody's asking him to do anything. Nobody's injecting him with anything or rolling him down the hallway for shock treatment. All he has to do is nothing.
It's a festival day. Garlands hand on every surface, one corner of the training grounds have been given over to a large maypole and smiles are plentiful.. Servants weave skillfully down the crowded hallways with all manner of trays, bundles and decorations. Laughter hangs over everything like a heavy incense. Merlin watches it all with a contented smile. Everything is going perfectly. Even Arthur won't find fault with this year's celebration.
The TV flickers and reverts to static. Frowning Arthur turns another page, then another before finally reaching for the remote and waving it irritatedly at the set. The screen flickers and for a moment it appears to be working as the picture flickers back on. Suddenly the channels whir upwards coming to a stop on what appears to be a music channel. A fife picks up and a singer becomes audible.
"The squire serves the gentleman and the gentleman follows me/ and in so doing learns the ways of skill and courtesy/ We ever serve the household with our hands and hearts and knees/ and the Rose and Lion stand and serve the King/ For the King!/ The Rose and Lion stand and serve the King"
The lyrics have altered with the language but the tune is eerily familiar, a festive tune he vividly remembers as a favorite at many a banquet. Try as he might the channel refuses to change and the info and menu buttons give up only the name of the station, IEEE 754. Returning to his book in disgust when he finds he can't even turn the dang thing off he doesn't notice the soft glow seeping out from under his warlock's eyelids.
"We serve as those before us and we teach it to our young/ and fair the blooms that face the sky that from our soil have sprung/ and oft our deeds are roared aloud when honor's praised and sung/ and the Rose and Lion stand and serve the King/ For the King!/ and the Rose and Lion stand and serve the King"
The familiar tune is struck up by a lone bard who is soon joined by several other musicians and singers. Couples pair up under the spontaneous music and soon the entire courtyard is awhirl with skirts and stomping boots. Merlin's eyes widen in surprise as two smooth hands drag him from his hiding place into the thick of it. The next minutes are a blur of breathless laughter as he and Gwen twirl in, around and through the other couples until the music stops and they collapse on one of the many benches set up for the occasion. Morgana comes up from behind and joins them in surveying the happy crowd. Merlin smiles up at her in welcome.
By the time Gwaine pokes his head in to ask what Arthur is up to the channel has gone through several reincarnations of songs they had first known in Camelot.
"Any ideas?"
Gwaine shakes his head. "It's like nothing I've ever seen. Almost like-" His spins towards the sole occupied bed realization dawning, "magic."
Arthur also switches his attention over to the sleeping warlock. "You don't think?"
The knight shrugs. "Who else would be able to do that?" He asks, pointing with a thumb over his shoulder to the set now playing a song he'd sung himself on many an occasion.
"I saw the mouse chase the cat/ Fie man fie!/ I saw the mouse chase the cat/ Who's the fool now?/ I saw the mouse chase the cat then the cheese ate the rat/ Thou hast well drunken man whose the fool now!"
Arthur nods slowly as he peers more closely at their sleeping friend. Merlin's eyes… Reaching out he lifts an eyelid and gasps. The pupil is a bright gold he's only seen in one context, spellcasting.
Letting go he moves to shake Merlin awake when Gwaine shoos him away. "Let him sleep!"
Arthur frowns. "And what happens when someone notices that?" motioning to the TV.
"Who's going to notice? Noone but us is going to try to use the remote and how will anyone who hears the music know it's magical? By it's obvious antiqueness? You were playing something similar before Merlin took over."
Groaning Arthur throws his hands up in defeat. "All right, but you get to do the sweet-talking if it's not fixed by the time we leave."
OoO
Sometime later the static returns. Merlin tosses, throwing the covers off with a wild sweep of his hands.
The maypole stands in gay contrast to the looming storm and blackened cobblestones. Merlin stares in horror at row after row of bodies laid out in ceremonial fashion under the open sky. Shuddering he steps forward. The first face looms up at him. Will.
He turns away. Balinor. turns. Lancelot. turns. Eylan. Daegel. Gwaine. Morgana. Percival. Gaius. Guinevere. Leon. Kay. Bedivere. Arthur.
He gasps, stricken. Locked in death Arthur's face is twisted with agony.
"No."
It didn't happen this way. He knows it didn't. In his last moments Arthur had smiled at him. Right?
"Does it matter if this is real?"
The voice sounds silently in his head, twisting through his mind like black snakes.
"After all, they all died. That's true enough. They all left you."
"Shut up Mordred."
"Why should I? I'm there too you know. Everyone whom ever hurt you. Everyone you ever cared about. I'm touched honestly."
"Shut up Mordred."
"Aw. Don't be like Merlin. I'm only trying to make conversation. Or do you not like bringing up old failures?"
"Arthur will rise again. Everyone will. The circle is not yet complete."
"Well in that case I suppose I will see you again. Won't that be nice? Maybe I can stab Arthur in the back for old times sake-"
"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM!"
The courtyard begins to shake. Mansonry crashes down all around him, mutilating bodies and rising a cloud of dust. Lightening strikes. A drop of rain splatters across Merlin's face and then a sheet of water drops from the sky. Amidst it all the Maypoles ribbons flutter brightly.
Thunder booms in his mind and Merlin sits straight up in bed nearly knocking heads with a worried Arthur who jumps backwards just in time.
"Merlin! What's wrong?"
OoO
When Merlin throws his blankets clear off the bed into Arthur's lap and the music simultaneously devolves into static Arthur immediately puts the book aside to lay a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder.
"It's ok Merlin. You're ok. I'm ok."
"Shut up Mordred."
Taken aback, Arthur tries to formulate a response. Before he can Merlin repeats with an even more vehement, "Shut up Mordred."
Catching on, Arthur shakes the sleeping boy softly trying to wake him from the nightmare.
"Arthur will rise again. Everyone will. The circle is not yet complete."
The angry hope in his friend's voice spurs Arthur to shake him even harder. "C'mon Merlin! Wake up! I'm right here. Not sometime in the future. Right now. All you have to do is open your eyes."
"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM!"
Arthur flinches as the furniture beings to rattle and the TV flickers back on, showing an old horror flick with a woman screaming shrilly in utter silence.
"Merlin!"
Scared now that they really will be fond out and Merlin drug back to the loony Arthur leans over to order the younger boy to snap out of it right now. Before he can get in the first word Merlin startles upright and Arthur shies away. The door slams open revealing a harried Gwaine who takes one look at the mess and asks in the voice he used in his past life for soothing crazed horses,
"Merlin! What's wrong?"
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