A/N: To make up for making everyone wait so long between the last two updates, I decided to put up another chapter already. I want to thank everyone who's liked, read and reviewed so far. You guys absolutely rock!
Disclaimer: I only play with the characters, I don't own them.
Chapter Eight
'Cause though the truth may vary this ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.
"Arthur? Are you okay? You've gone awfully quiet in there. Should I be worried?" Merlin called out, only slightly concerned. Arthur had stepped in the bedroom to collect a shirt for him; he'd spilled some soup onto it as he'd filled a cup for Artur and one for himself, and Arthur had suggested he get him a new one as Merlin had done all the work so far.
That hadn't been entirely true, but Merlin had relented anyway. Arthur needed to feel useful, and if this helped then he would let the man raid his closet for a shirt. There wasn't anything there Arthur shouldn't see, so there wasn't any risk to it. And it did spare him a trip upstairs, which was a nice bonus.
But Arthur had been there for nearly ten minutes now, and that had him slightly worried. He hoped the blond hadn't fallen and injured himself, or nothing else had happened to keep him from coming back down.
Since Arthur didn't respond, Merlin walked up the stairs. If the blond couldn't or wouldn't come down for some reason, then there was no choice but to go up. He was certain he hadn't said something wrong, so he was pretty sure he would be able to help. He only prayed he wouldn't have to use his medical skills to help him.
Arthur didn't even step into the hallway when Merlin stepped onto the creaky last step. The sound was too loud not the hear, so either Arthur was ignoring it or he was unconscious. Despite neither one of those scenarios being good, Merlin knew which one he preferred.
His heart was beating faster than normal, his fear not being put at ease by him focusing on the most positive of the two possibilities. He tried to breath regularly, but he failed miserably. His pace was a lot quicker than normal as well as he crossed the hallway to his bedroom.
When he pushed open the door, Arthur was standing in front of the wardrobe. That was where Merlin had expected and hoped to find him. The black shirt that was slung over Arthur's shoulder was also something Merlin had expected to see, both because he owned quite the collection of black shirt and because it was so very like Arthur. What he hadn't expected was to see Arthur holding the green tunic that had belonged to the blond back in the days of Camelot.
His breath caught in his throat. He should have known this was bound to happen one day. The first few times he'd made sure to stick around while Arthur grabbed a shirt to sleep in if he'd forgotten his pyjamas. But over the last month, he'd been neglecting that duty; he'd known the man for five months now, they were close to starting a relationship and he trusted him.
At this moment, though, he wished he'd been a little more apprehensive. Touching something that had belonged to him in his first life could easily have triggered a memory that was stronger than Arthur was ready to handle. He should have taken the tunic out and started keeping it somewhere Arthur was not going to go, for example the attic.
But he was moving faster than he should. It could be that Arthur hadn't recalled something from the past but was simply surprised Merlin had something like that in his closet. It was obviously old, and no one else would have that in their house. But unless Arthur turned around, Merlin wouldn't be able to guess what was going on inside the former King of Camelot's head.
"Arthur? Please don't go all quiet on me. Talk to me, tell me what it is so I can fix it," Merlin said, trying desperately to keep the pleading note out of his voice. He didn't succeed entirely, but it was better than it could have been and that would have to do for the moment.
His voice sounding so close brought Arthur back from whatever place in his mind he'd retreated to, and Merlin let out a sigh of relief. He'd feared he'd have to physically shake Arthur to get his attention, and that could have done more harm than good. Especially if the last thing Arthur wanted right now was for anyone to touch him.
"I dreamt about wearing this tunic. The dream was too fuzzy to remember, but this tunic was in it. I couldn't get the piece of fabric out of my mind for days after it had happened. I even drew it in an attempt to forget about it. It didn't work. And now I find it in your closest. What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked, his voice sounding too harsh and insecure. The words were unlike any the blond had ever used before and they felt like a slap to the face for Merlin.
It looked like the time had come to face the past. Merlin wasn't sure telling Arthur who he really was would turn out to be the best thing to do, but the only other option was to not say anything. If he did that, he would be in big trouble when those dreams became harder to forget. It might cost him their friendship, which he wasn't willing to sacrifice.
He walked towards the bed, settling down on it. Arthur joined him, settling so close to Merlin that there wasn't even enough space for him to place his hand between them. Therefore, he folded his hands in his lap. He wanted nothing more than to settle on of them on Arthur's knee, but he also understood this wasn't the time to take risks.
"That's because the tunic you're holding has belonged to me for a very long time. And before you ask, no, I never wore it when you were around and you couldn't have seen it in my closet before today. You found it for a different reason," Merlin began his story, his voice trembling a little.
Arthur was looking at him, but the warlock couldn't meet the other man's eyes. He was unsure and scared, and he wanted to hide that as much as possible. Arthur would need a strong shoulder to lean on, something only he would be able to provide once he'd finished his tale.
"You remembered that tunic because it belonged to you before it came into my possession. I can't even begin to guess what your dream was about, but the tunic was the least dangerous thing for you to remember. It was a lead-in to more telling dreams, dreams that would finally tell you something you have had the right to know since the day you were born," Merlin said.
The silence that fell over them was an uneasy one. Arthur's eyes widened to an almost comical extend, but there was a mixture disbelieve, fear and something akin to despair in them. Not at all what he'd hoped. He would have to deal with all of those emotions, and he was praying he would get that chance.
"What do you mean that tunic was mine before you got it? I've never seen it before, and I'd remember if I had," Arthur pointed out, wrinkling his nose in something like disgust. Merlin's heart sank into the ground. Arthur would have had a point if this had been an ordinary situation, and Merlin would have a hard time explaining why this wasn't one.
"Normally you would have. But it's been as long since you've seen it as it's been since it came into my possession. One and a half thousand years, to be exact. Over a millennium," Merlin said, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. The small twinge of pain he felt as he bit down was lost in the greater myriad of emotions coursing through his body.
Arthur's mouth dropped open, his hand immediately coming up to cover it. Merlin waited patiently for him to regain his bearings. There was a good chance he would run out and never come back, but he couldn't do anything but he honest. Lying by omission was lying as well, after all.
"I'm not almost a thousand five hundred years old, Merlin. No matter how old I might look at times. It's physically impossible. And I have pictures of myself as a baby. How could I have those if what you're saying is true? And besides all of that, it's just plain crazy," Arthur finished.
His voice had a warning tone to it. Merlin knew he was on the verge of walking out in the assumption Merlin was barking mad, so he needed to act now. And that meant doing the only thing that might work. If that failed, he would have lose whatever chance he had to make this work. Instead, he'd either have to pack up and move. Arthur wouldn't want him in his life anymore if he was certain Merlin was berserk.
"Do you know the legend of King Arthur? I know it sounds meaningless, but it has everything to do with this. So please, answer my question. Do you know the legend of King Arthur?" Merlin repeated, keeping his voice as steady as he could, not breaking eye contact this time.
The question surprised Arthur so much that the man simply cocked his head as he pondered it, almost forgetting what he'd been thinking about before. Merlin was glad for the reprieve; it have him the time to gather his wits about him and formulate some kind of plan to deal with whatever came next.
"Uh, yeah, I know a bit about it. Arthur was born to Uther and Igraine. Igraine was married to Gorlois of Cornwall before she married him. Arthur had a half-sister named Morgana. There was another woman, Morgause. I think she was a sister of Morgana's or something. When Uther died, Arthur took over as ruler of Camelot. He was trained by a sorcerer named Merlin. The King married Guinevere in the end, a princess. She cheated on him and he had her burnt at the stake for her infidelity. Arthur eventually died at the hands of Mordred at the battle of Camlann. Merlin then sent him off to rest on the Isle of Avalon until his country needed him again," Arthur finished, frowning as he spoke.
It was the version of the legend most people knew, and Merlin was bot glad and not to hear it. He had hoped Arthur would have read some of the others version as well and would have alluded to them. It might have made it easier to touch on one of the most difficult topics in this conversation.
"The legend you just cited isn't entirely correct, and we of all people should know that. Guinevere, or Gwen as we called her, was not a princess. She was a servant girl to your half-sister Morgana. Morgana wasn't Igraine's daughter with Gorlois, she was Uther's daughter. Her mother was Vivienne, Gorlois's wife. When Gorlois died, she most likely went into hiding and Uther took Morgana in. Your father loved the girl with all his heart. Gwen didn't cheat on you; she never got the chance. You found out you loved men, more specifically the young man who was magic, before that could happen. But you did die at Mordred's hand. I tried to save you, but I failed. I indeed sent you off to Avalon and awaited your arrival. You are King Arthur, Arthur. And I'm Merlin, the same as in the legend," Merlin finally said, glad he had this all of his chest.
Another silence fell between them, and the tension it brought with it was thick enough to slice. Merlin's eyes closed for a second, the emotional onslaught too harsh to withstand. Nothing he'd envisioned or predicted was of any use to him now. It was frustrating and it made him angry.
"I'm out of here. I can't believe this… I should've seen you were completely of your rocker as soon I met you. God, I can't believe I got myself into this mess…" Arthur muttered, standing up and taking a step towards the door.
Merlin reacted on instinct, clasping the man's hand so tightly he knew it would hurt. He then used part of Arthur's momentum to drag himself off the bed. Arthur's eyes were ablaze with an inner fire Merlin had only seen a few times before, and each of those occasions had been in his first life.
"Please, Arthur. I know you think I'm crazy. I would think that too if I were you. But will you give me one last chance to prove I'm telling you the truth? It's all I ask. If you still think I'm a liar after this, you can go. I'll move and you'll never see me again. I promise you that," he said, forcing himself to say the words even though they hurt.
Arthur didn't immediately pull away, but Merlin did let go of him. He didn't want to put any more of a strain on the man than he really had to, considering this was difficult enough as it was.
And there was no certainty whatsoever that his plan would work. There was only hope, and he held onto it as tightly as possible. The spell Kilghara had given him the day he left Camelot might work here. In all these years, he'd never used it. He'd found Arthur without it and he'd thought he would never need it. But now, his instinct was telling him to utter those ancient words.
"Give me your hand. It won't take long and it won't hurt, I promise. But I'm not sure it'll work if I'm not touching you, which is the only reason I'm asking you to do this. I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was important," Merlin said, holding out his hand.
Arthur took it, surprising Merlin by linking their fingers together. Somewhere deep down there was a part of Arthur that still trusted him, and that made Merlin's resolve to make the spell works grow even bigger. He wouldn't abandon Arthur; he'd promised that a long time ago. And leaving him to deal with this on his own and without any way to find him when he realised Merlin had been right would be abandoning him.
"Ábeþecedest mín oþres dæl," Merlin said, his eyes turning into pools of gold as they always did when he used his powers. He only knew they did that because he'd seen it in the other users of magic he'd met back in the day. Arthur had been so awed when he'd first seen it that he'd stared at Merlin's eyes all day afterward.
But that wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was whether or not he'd been right in assuming this spell had never just been meant to find Arthur, but had also been meant to help him discover the memories of his previous life that were buried so deeply.
Merlin could feel Arthur tense, the blond man's grip on his hand becoming uncomfortably tight. He didn't let go, though, knowing the spell was working. He feared putting an end to that, so he stood ramrod straight as he waited for Arthur's muscles to relax.
When they did, Arthur's eye flew open. The fear that bad been there before had multiplied ten times; it had drowned out every other emotion that had been there before. Merlin decided that holding onto Arthur was the only option now. The blond needed to know he didn't have to do this alone.
"This really is true… It's true… I'm King Arthur… Good Lords…" the words kept tumbling from lips, barely indistinguishable. His chest rose and fell irregularly, and too fast. He was hyperventilating, and Merlin needed to act quickly.
He pushed Arthur down on the bed, gently pressing one of his legs between Arthur's. As soon as the blond spread them, he guided Arthur's head down between them. To prevent Arthur from rising, he kept his hand on his neck.
Fortunately, Arthur was soon breathing normally again. Merlin let go of him, but as soon as Arthur got to his feet, he doubted that he'd made the right decision. Arthur had to walk part of the road alone, though, the part where he accepted all of this. Merlin would always be there, but he could only fill in the blanks for him and support him.
"I have to go," Arthur said as soon as he was on his feet. He was already looking at the door, which told Merlin that there would be no way to stop him from leaving. He looked oddly like a caged animal. Merlin had seen enough of those the know it was a very accurate description.
However, closer assessment of the situation revealed he wasn't trembling. He didn't seem dizzy or disoriented, so that was a good thing too. There really was no reason for Merlin to keep him here if Arthur didn't want that. Not to mention that the space and time to think were probably exactly what Arthur needed. He really had to put the part of him to rest that was screaming he shouldn't let Arthur go.
"I know. Just promise you'll call me to let me know you've arrived home, okay? And whenever you want to talk. I have a bit of a clue as to what this is like, even if I never had to deal with reawaking memories," Merlin said, stepping aside so Arthur would see his path was free.
Without uttering another word, Arthur left. The only indication he gave that he had even heard what Merlin said was the small nod he gave before exiting the room. Merlin had hoped he'd be given more, that he'd be given a small sign that things would be alright in the end. But he'd simply have to live with it.
He'd also have to learn to live with the fact it would be a while before they saw each other again. And all those days would hard on the both of them, even though neither one would readily admit to it.