Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or it's characters. Boosobboo. :(
A/N: Hey everyone! Here's the second chapter to Keepsake, sorry it took a little longer to get out then I hoped; it's been a mental week!
It should start to become clear how this story's laid out. . . hope you all enjoy it! ;)
Keepsake
Chapter 2
Merlin's smile slipped of his face as he watched several knights carry a sleeping Arthur back to the castle. His heart plummeted as he realised he still had Arthur's reaction to come, and even though he knew he should trust the prince with his very soul, fear still held him by the throat; he was scared.
0*0*0*0*0
The last time Arthur had awaken from being knocked out, he'd been on his back in a forest, with only twigs and dry grass for comfort. This time, his eyes fluttered open and he was swathed in softness, he could feel red velvet beneath his rough fingertips.
He groaned as he tried to move his head, trying to work out where he found himself; the room was fairly large, a wooden table where his armour lay, an open fireplace. . .
His mind was brought back down from its cloud when he heard someone shut the door.
Arthur watched through heavy lids as a woman in a pale yellow dress moved about the room. There was something in her quiet grace that made Arthur's heart skip a beat. He shifted under his sheets a little, and at the slight noise she swivelled round.
"I wondered if you'd wake soon." she said, smiling kindly at him, her deep brown eyes conveying a warmth he'd never seen before. She swallowed, those eyes flashing for a second- a broken hurt in her aura, "Merlin told me what happened. . .he's gone to get Gaius. . ."
"I'm sorry." he whispered; he wasn't sure what for, but it seemed like right thing to say
"It's ok; it's not your fault."
The prince's gaze dropped, he hated feeling like this; everyone knew more about him than he did himself; it made him feel useless.
"Morgana visited you earlier whilst you were sleeping. She's your father's ward; you treat her like a sister."
Morgana. He passed the name around in his head. It held a certain familiarity to it, yet it seemed distant, like finding an old childhood toy.
"What's your name?" Arthur asked inquisitively.
"I'm Guinevere, but everyone calls me Gwen. I just returned back this evening, I've been staying with friends a few miles south of Camelot in case we were invaded."
The prince nodded in understanding, Gwen releasing an internal sigh, expecting him to say or do something that she would truly recognise.
They both looked as they saw Merlin enter with two older men. One was dressed mainly in black and was wearing a crown, the other had longer, white hair. Gwen quickly curtseyed and slipped out of the room, Arthur's gaze following her for a few seconds.
"Arthur! Thank goodness you're safe!" The first man cried out, kneeling by his son's bedside and clasping his hand in his own. He assumed this man must be his king and father.
"I'm fine, father. My side is a little sore, but I'm nearly fully healed."
He glanced over at Merlin, who was looking at him oddly, the other man's eyebrows furrowed as if he were analysing him.
"I'm sorry I cannot stay Arthur, there is too much organise. . . Cenred fled when a sorcerer appeared in blue and gold flames; they managed to destroy every one of his men, and all of our knights have no idea of the identity of this sorcerer. We are going after both Cenred and the sorcerer."
Arthur's expression was one of complete bafflement. Why did the king speak with such disdain to a person who had won this war for them?
The prince could not help but glimpse at his manservant; a muscle was twitching in his jaw again and he was swaying slightly from one foot to the other, "Why are you hunting down the sorcerer when they have done nothing but help us?"
"I have told you before Arthur, magic corrupts the soul and in time they will turn and attack us like every other sorcerer as done."
Arthur fell quiet, staring at his father as he strode out of the room, the door slamming closed behind him.
Merlin let out on audible sigh of relief, the two boys sharing a look; thankful on both accounts.
"How's your stomach?" Merlin asked tentatively.
"Fine, thanks to you." Arthur replied, quirking a slight grin. His manservant flushed a bit; he wasn't used to praise.
"I did say you'd get injured; you nearly always do." Merlin smirked in reponse.
The brief pause in conversation gave the older man a chance to swoop in, "So Arthur, Merlin tells me you have had your memory wiped?"
Arthur nodded a little, wincing as he propped himself up against the headboard, "I can remember nothing of my past, my family, my friends. . ."
"I've tried all the spells I can find already, nothing worked, and Gaius, my neckerchief was lost-"
"Merlin, now's not the time." Gaius interrupted, waving a dismissive hand to his ward, "Go make yourself useful and take Arthur's clothes; get them washed; they're covered in blood and goodness knows what else."
The onyx-haired boy sighed heavily to himself, sending an apologetic glance to Arthur before he scooped up the prince's clothes and silently left the room.
Gaius watched Merlin leave, before focusing his attention back onto Arthur; "I'm Gaius, the Court Physician, and I've been serving your father for many years."
Arthur studied the old man's face kindly, as if searching for something that'd make him remember. It seemed far too surreal to Gaius, introducing himself so formally to Arthur when he'd known him since his birth; it was like the world was oddly inverted.
"Now, what's the first thing you can remember?"
The prince cleared his throat, "Well, I'd been knocked out, and I woke up on the forest floor with Merlin hovering above me. He'd said that I'd had my memory wiped and it was 'all his fault'. I didn't really get a chance to ask what had happened exactly, because we had to set off quickly as I was supposed to be leading an army."
"Can you remember anything else?"
"To be honest, it was all a bit of a blur, half the time I was just trying to concentrate acting as normal as possible."
Gaius nodded seriously, perching on the edge of the prince's bed, "Was there any moment where you felt like something was trying to break out? A particularly overriding emotion that mentally didn't seem to fit?"
The prince's brows crinkled a little, "They've been a couple of times. Just now, that servant girl Gwen. . . and she mentioned Morgana- my sister. . ."
"Go on."
"And then there was a moment when we were fighting. . ." he paused for a second, grouping together his small collection of sporadic thoughts, "Merlin was up on some rocks. . . he was surrounded, and I felt this horrible breathlessness, like someone had thrown a piece of rock at my stomach. Something was crying out to me to protect him . . . that he was important."
"And you saved him?"
Arthur shook his head, "That's when I got struck." he pointed out the scar on the side of his stomach. Merlin had saved himself. He'd saved all of them.
The old physician sighed a little, a small smile on his face.
"Will I ever get my memories back?" Arthur whispered, he sounded so alone; like a lost boy searching for his parents.
"Although your mind may be completely empty of your memories, there's no magic on this earth that can fully eradicate them from within your heart."
"Do you think a part of me still remembers Merlin then? And everyone else?"
"From what you've said, yes. The old Arthur would never admit it, but you'd probably consider Merlin your best friend, and you his."
Arthur smiled a little in recognition, "That's what he told me."
"Well, he's right; we just need a way to unearth it."
0*0*0*0*0
Merlin walked slowly through the long corridors, under his arm the pile of Arthur's dirty washing.
It was the first time in days he'd been completely alone it seemed; a pang vibrated somewhere deep in his chest as his mind was momentarily swarmed by memories of Arthur. The old one.
Merlin was aware, on a completely selfish level, that he missed him. He missed the endless banter, the teasing and the winding up. They'd been glimpse of it in New Arthur, but it was not quite the same. This Arthur was shyer, more thoughtful before he spoke and generally more isolated. In fact, he sounded a bit more like another Merlin; two Merlin's didn't work, he needed Arthur to be the boisterous older brother figure that, despite his better judgement, he'd grown fond of. They were, in short, best friends.
Although it was oddly difficult having Arthur like this- reserved and uncertain- he sympathised with him completely. He knew he'd be the same if their positions were switched; how lonely must he feel, not recognising a single face, with only a blank canvas of a mind to keep him company?
Everything in his life now seemed out of step, Arthur it seemed had accepted his magic, but at the same time, he hadn't at all; because Old Arthur didn't even know.
He clawed at his hair in frustration and helplessness. Half the knights of Camelot knew for goodness sake! A wave of dizziness crashed over him as he stumbled a little, a bead of sweat on his forehead as if the fire had just been lit beneath him. . . he should leave now before Uther could catch him.
He couldn't though. He owed it to Arthur. Merlin had to find a way out of this; he had to give Arthur his life back.
The manservant reached Gaius' quarters, dumping Arthur's clothes on the floor and dragging out the wash basin. He probably could have got a maid to do it with a twinkly-eyed smile, but he needed some time to think.
He grabbed Arthur's wool trousers, scrubbing at the brown stains- dirt or blood, he didn't no which- off the scratchy surface. What on earth was he going to do, without his neckerchief . . .it was hopeless. Perhaps he could call Kilgharrah. . .
Although he didn't think he'd be too pleased.
He could feel guilt tripping him up again; this was all his fault . . . he should've acted quicker. But he'd been scared of what Arthur would think.
And now it was too late.
Arthur knew nothing of himself now; he was living a shadow of his former existence; living in the wake of a dream. However much he could tell him about the emotions he had felt, the concerns he had had, the life he had lived- it was not truly living.
He threw the damp trousers to one side, picking up Arthur's favourite red shirt and dumping it into the basin.
Merlin had thought he'd been unharmed; the king would be beside himself if he found out what had happened. Or if Arthur decided to tell Uther his secret. Merlin felt a pebble sized lump rise in his throat.
The manservant swirled the material half-heartedly around the basin, looking down into it as if he would find the answer in its cloudy depths, like a poor man's crystal ball. He sighed theatrically, pulling it out and dropping it carelessly next to the trousers. Ruffling his dark hair with a wet hand, creating a sort of sleepy spikiness, he pulled his magic book from the bottom of a pile of papers.
He spent the next hour flicking desperately through the pages, head resting on his hand as each spell seemed even more useless than the next. He slammed the book shut, quickly arranging the pile of yellowing papers back on top. What on earth was he going to do?
He should probably go check on Arthur, the servant thought. Gaius would probably be attending once again to the rest of the knights' wounds by now.
Merlin froze as he reached the door, his heart pounding aggressively in his chest. He slowly swivelled around on his heels, his eyes fixed on the basin.
He walked slowly, retracing his steps, his azure eyes shining with burning hope as he looked at the murky water. There, floating on the surface, was his red neckerchief.
A/N: Hope you liked it, look out for the next chapter to hit soon! Please review etc. :)