A Drop Of Magic

by themasterofescapism

Present day city of London and Merlin Emrys is the new Detective Constable in Scotland Yard. Arthur Pendragon is the arrogant Detective Sergeant. The decades old mystery of the Old Religion leads them into an unconventional partnership, their involvement sparking a fated chain of events governed by magic, love, and darkness. Merlin stands, unknowingly, at the centre of this stage.

35. Memories, Maybe Dreams

Memories, Maybe Dreams.

'The Great Dragon,' Morgana said when Kilgharrah opened the door to her cell. She kept her back pressed against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, and watched him step inside. Her dry eyes had become itchy and the scratchy sensation forced her to blink too many times.

He didn't come any closer as he watched her. Shivers still lanced through her body as the cold touch of the rain from her dream blew into her. It wasn't really there. She knew that. It didn't stop though. Hours after waking up and she still felt wet, her skin burned and her ears ached from the growl in the air.

His blank expression bore into her. 'I have a task for you.'

'Task?'

'You need to find Nimueh.'

She tightened her arms around her legs to secure them harder against her chest as another sheet of ghost rain ran into her. 'Isn't Arthur charging ahead with all his knights to do just that?'

'They don't have magic,' Kilgharrah said.

'Merlin, then.'

'As powerless as Mordred,' he shot her down. The air tasted wet and thick as Morgana kept her breaths steady. 'Track Nimueh's magic, not her physical presence. It will be noticeable enough. I think she plans to return magic to all the previous users who have been brought into this modern world with us. With renewed strength. She'll have to create a powerful weapon, and she can't conceal those enchantments. You're a High Priestess, like her, which should make it easier. Search the mountains.'

Morgana fought to stay focused, the ballooning fire on that cliff blinding her for a moment. If she winced, Kilgharrah didn't say anything, or didn't notice. 'Mountains?'

'There's no time for this, Morgana,' he said and knocked on the cell door. 'I'm surprised you haven't tried to find her already given what she's done and how much you care for that boy.'

She narrowed her sore eyes. 'His name is Mordred.'

'As if I could ever forget that name.' The clang of keys outside approached and the tumblers in the lock soon turned with a mechanical roll and click. 'Find her. You have until midnight on Friday.'

'What happens then?'

'If you fail? Mordred dies.'

Morgana pressed her lips together and shut her eyes against the onslaught of unwelcome feelings. Why couldn't the rain just go away? Why couldn't she stop hearing it fold over in her head? Dragonlord, Dragonlord, Dragonlord. She took in a breath of the hot wet air. 'She's going to kill him.'

'After a fashion. The evidence suggests as much. Taking his magic is the first step in a ritual,' Kilgharrah answered with his weathered voice. 'Trust in your powers, in my authority, and find Nimueh. Find her and you'll find him too.'

The cell door squeaked as it opened, but she didn't hear his footsteps. At last she looked back up and saw him standing by the open door. 'Whatever it is you saw last night, it would be best if you kept it to yourself for now.'

Her forehead ached with the frown that pushed into it.

'Your visions should never be ignored, but choose how you respond to them with great care.'

'Why is this happening?' she asked before he could leave. Her voice was strong in spite of how battered she felt, and she almost whimpered when the question made it out into the air. A soft kind of darkness fell over Kilgharrah's eyes. 'Why are we here? How can we all be here?'

'History repeats itself, Morgana,' he said after a pause and stepped out. 'We've been brought back because we need to be here. Something has changed in the world and we're the ones who have to protect it.'

The door shut, locked, and she bowed her head down, chin to chest with hands resting on the back of her neck. In the space between her knees, staring down into the triangular gap formed by her chest and legs, she could finally breath in warm, dry air. The magic grated against her nerves but she coaxed it out and struck out with as much strength as she could safely manage.

The web spread outwards. Each string merged with and passed through people, bricks, birds, trains. They plucked with the whispers of subdued magic, but none had the right tone. She knew mountains were quite a while from London, so kept calm and waited for the right string to hit the right tone with the right kind of magic. It would take time, but she was old friends with patience.

.

.

.

Merlin saw Arthur glare at Gaius when he stepped out of the lift. The human, handsome, clueless Arthur who was progressively more angry and confused each time he saw him. The two stood by Arthur's desk in a serious discussion which cut short once Kilgharrah reached them from his office.

Merlin wanted to remain by the lift doors, leave without them knowing he'd been there, but he had to tell them. Moving was a general pain he'd gotten used to but he was slower, and it took him twice as long to reach them. Twice as long for the few officers on the floor to shoot him strange looks and whisper to each other in a remarkably unprofessional way.

He was close enough to hear Arthur scoff and say, 'You can't be serious.'

'I'm deadly serious, Arthur. My telling you is a professional courtesy. Bayard is on his way. You, and your team, have a robbery to go deal with.'

Arthur turned to Gaius. 'There's no DNA linking Edwin's murder to-'

He stopped when he saw Merlin. They all faced him with varying degrees of apprehension and concern.

'No, there wasn't any DNA to link Merlin to Edwin's murder,' Gaius finished for him. 'There was one last piece of evidence I couldn't quite understand.'

'The Gaelic found in Edwin's pocket?' Kilgharrah asked and held out an evidence bag with a note on it. Gaius took it from him, the two fazed by his appearance for only a moment. Arthur hadn't stopped staring at him, though. 'Hope you don't mind I borrowed it yesterday. I had my suspicions but this confirmed them. It's quite possibly the most important piece of evidence, and very unnerving. This term, Lughnasadh, is more commonly known as-'

Arthur came towards him and interrupted them when he asked, 'Merlin, are you alright?'

Merlin met his stare. He wasn't alright. He didn't matter though, not then. 'I think Nimueh took Mordred.'

Kilgharrah hummed. 'I suspected as much.'

Merlin frowned and Arthur mirrored his confusion. 'You suspected as much?'

'I believe Nimueh intends to sacrifice Mordred's magic, and then his life. Your life and magic too, Merlin. Like I was saying, it's part of an ancient ritual taking place during Lúnasa which is in a few days-'

'Lúnasa?'

'The more common term for what Edwin wrote on this paper. In ancient Gaelic tradition it marks the start of the harvest. Midway between the summer solstice and autumn equinox. A prime time to access powerful magic, and if timed correctly with a powerful sacrifice it will allow Nimueh to return magic to this world. The modern world hasn't evolved to handle that kind of situation. People's grasp on reality will fail, and a lot worse.'

'It'd be chaos,' Arthur said.

'Vivian Maclain is a perfect example,' Kilgharrah added and Merlin flinched. The whole scene he'd walked in on last night still clung to him and he couldn't get Aredian's warning out of his head. A warm hand slipped into his own and squeezed.

'Don't blame yourself,' Arthur told him. 'She was going to find out eventually.'

Merlin pulled his hand back and stepped away from the three of them.

Kilgharrah trained a questioning look onto him. 'What is it?'

'It's nothing.'

'This is no time for secrets, Emrys.'

'Vivian,' he started, his head now aching more than his body. It was like he'd run a marathon the day before without proper training, and was now left with pain blistering everywhere and a hangover without the drinking. 'She's dead.'

'Aredian?' Kilgharrah asked and Merlin nodded. Arthur had become more guarded, but the concern in his blue eyes was even harder.

'We have to do something,' he said in a familiarly commanding way. 'About Nimueh, Aredian, all of it.'

Merlin let out a long and tired breath.

'You'll go do your job,' Kilgharrah ordered, getting an upset look from Arthur. 'There's nothing for you to do. Not now, at least. Merlin, I'm afraid your suspension will remain in place until everything's been cleared. You and DS Pendragon will be meeting with the Commissioner this Friday at one, and the interviewing process for your team will begin next week.'

'I understand.'

'That's it? A woman's been murdered, Kilgharrah, one of our own,' Arthur protested but Kilgharrah held up a hand to silence him.

'Two more of our own might be dead in two days time. Don't regard my attitude as one of neglect, DS Pendragon. There's nothing we can do. Aredian has outsmarted us at every turn so far and I refuse to make Merlin any more of a target than he already is. I trust you want to do the same?'

'Of course,' Arthur said, and at that point Merlin headed back to the lift with Aredian's threat resting on his tongue like a heavy metal coil. They couldn't know.

'Good. Then go do your job, while you still have one.'

Arthur caught him in the lift before the doors could close.

'Merlin, how do you know Vivian's-'

'I don't want to talk about it, Arthur,' he said and pressed in the ground floor button. In the close proximity he noticed Arthur's cologne was different, or his experience of it was. It was woody, clean and subtle. Merlin looked at him and his hurt expression, Aredian's threat making the lump in his throat grow. He swallowed it down and clenched his teeth. Control. That's what he'd told Dr Ruadan he'd wanted so many weeks ago. He had to stay in control of himself, for Arthur.

'We need to talk. I haven't seen you in days, and people keep dying around you,' Arthur told him so blankly Merlin couldn't help but scoff. 'People keep dying around you' was as accurate a description he'd ever gotten. 'I want to know you're okay, even though I know you're not. You get that, right? I'm worried about you.'

'I just need time to figure things out,' Merlin assured him, hoping no one else got into the lift as it slowly dropped floor by floor. 'I need to be alone.'

Arthur's held a hand gently at his back. 'I'm tired of leaving you alone.'

'I know, Arthur,' he said. 'I can do this, okay?'

'I don't know.'

'Thanks for the vote of confidence.' Merlin's side-glance at the blonde made his chest hurt. The doors slid open to let some Uniforms enter the left. Merlin and Arthur shuffled to the back. The movement forced them closer together. 'I'm alright, really,' he told him in a quiet voice.

'You're a terrible liar.' Merlin looked down at his shoes. Arthur sighed and moved the hand at his back down to reach into his trouser pocket. 'I got you this.'

'A phone?' Merlin accepted it when Arthur held it out to him. It was an older Samsung model with slightly chipped silver edges that revealed a light grey. Merlin wondered what he'd be able to tell about its history if he had his magic, but part of him liked that he didn't know. He could only wonder.

'Noticed you left yours at the flat before we went to that café. Screen was wrecked, so I found my old one and booted it up,' Arthur explained. He'd have thought it sheepish if Arthur wasn't wearing such a deep look of sincerity and worry. 'Put all our numbers in it already. If you need help, with anything, just call, alright?'

Merlin nodded and stuffed it into his jeans as the lift doors opened on the ground floor. 'Thanks.'

'I'll see you later?' Arthur asked they filed out with the others.

Merlin paused and watched him for a moment. Arthur waited patiently, with expectant eyes and his mouth not quite closed. 'Sure.'

He ducked his head down and headed out. The paparazzi lurked on the main street a few yards away, and he wished it would rain just to make their lives harder. Arthur hadn't followed him, and he was grateful. He had to think and organise. The 148 turned down Victoria Street and headed to the bus stop just in time. Merlin fished out his oyster and found a seat on the upper deck. He settled in for the journey with his new phone in hand and swiped it to life. Once it was awake he checked the Contacts and sure enough they were all there. Even Mordred. It must have been hard for Arthur to put that number on, not that it was of much use now.

The second summer shower for that day started up and a low rumble thrummed above the tall rooftops of the buildings. Rain pattered down against their glass walls and started to run over the bus quietly before it grew heavy and relentless. The view was obscured by running water and all sounds of traffic were muffled by the watery veil.

He had tomorrow, and that was it. Aredian would come for him the next day. Hopefully not before he saw the Commissioner. He didn't want to leave Arthur's career in even more question by disappearing before he could sort it all out. That thought made him frown. Would he disappear? Would Aredian leave his body somewhere to be found? Would he make it look like murder or suicide? Merlin groaned and rested his elbow against the black windowsill, holding his tired head there as he scrolled through the random things Arthur had loaded onto the phone. From pictures to music to the BBC Weather app, he'd either forgotten to wipe it or kept it all there for Merlin. He shut the mobile down and put it back in his pocket to stare through the rain instead.

.

.

.

Mordred couldn't move more than a few inches in any direction. There was plenty of space, but his body refused to function. With his head leaning back against the hard rock wall of what he assumed was some kind of cave, he could only watch as Nimueh's dark figure entered the claustrophobic space. It reminded him of the closet he'd hidden in at the Baker's house. From age nine to eleven that closet had been his best friend. Dark, closed, but warm and his own. This cave was dark, closed, and freezing. Too similar to his Camelot days for any possible comfort.

'It's not long now, Mordred.' Nimueh's clear words brought him back to the moment, but focusing was hard and the shadows weighed down on everything. They were heavy and did their best to drag him back into the memories. 'Your power will give us our strength back. We'll take Albion back.'

Albion. Nimueh was such a relic. People had to learn to let go of the traditions, of the ages gone by. History was history for a reason.

'You still think they'll save you, don't you?'

He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry and his tongue stuck uncomfortably to the roof of his mouth.

'They won't, Mordred.'

'Shut up,' he breathed and winced at the pain in his chapped lips as he blinked against the cold air.

'You're alone, like you were when Morgana cursed you.'

She'd said something similar yesterday, hadn't she? Or was it the day before? It was hard to tell. The fog in his brain kept messing with time, and the memories he'd worked so hard to forget kept crawling back up the back of his mind to play through like a sick movie reel. Camelot blurred with foster homes, murder merged with the heat of Merlin when they kissed, and the breaking porcelain mug chimed perfectly with the sound of sword striking against sword.

'Like you were when Old Religion controlled you. We're still controlling you actually, just differently.'

She touched his arm and he couldn't move away. It was a light touch but invaded whatever space he had. Her words began to slip out of the air and he couldn't catch them. They fought with several others. The voices might have come from the memories, maybe dreams. One said something about the tea being cold, another was asking him about a case report. Merlin was there too, the low voice distinct but any words garbled.

'You aren't their friend, Mordred. You killed Arthur. You think Merlin can ever forgive that? In this life, in the next?'

Mordred's limbs blended with the cold air and he concentrated on the sensation to try and block her out. It was as if he were everything in the cave. From the wall to the floor, that wet patch of moss that nestled against his right bare foot. Stretched through the air, he was strung tightly through it all by the strange words and that warm closet.

'They'll sing songs about your sacrifice, Mordred. You've always been marked for greatness, and in this life you will truly come into that greatness. I'll see you again soon.'

Nimueh was gone when he next opened his eyes. Part of his mind questioned whether she'd ever been there to being with. Questioned whether he was even in the cave. The warmth of the closet was so familiar, so real. The rough cardboard of an old shoe box dug into his left thigh, and the lemony smell of the detergent the Bakers always used was so strong he almost sneezed. The only sound was his own breathing: in, then out, and in again, like waves on a shore. Gentle and repetitive. Maybe he was standing on a beach. His feet were definitely cold enough.

No, he was definitely in the closet, head sandwiched by the clothes that hung down from those thin wiry dry cleaners hangers. Most of them were too big for him, hand-me downs from whoever they'd decided to take in before him. They never mentioned that boy, and whenever he asked what happened to him he'd be shouted at or ignored or made to go have a timeout in the garage. He'd grow into them eventually, though, and they were a lot nicer than the clothes he'd taken with him from the last home. There was a really nice grey hoodie that he wanted to wear all the time, but he was too small and it swamped him. At night he snuck it on and used it to replace the duvet when he hid in the closet. He clutched the ends of the long sleeves in his fists. The extra fabric was soft and folded over with some of the uneven pleats slotted between his fingers. In a few years it would really fit. That was something to look forward to.

.

.

.

Merlin had spent upwards of three hours just walking around, until he'd finally grabbed a seat on a bench in Southbank. Kilgharrah, Gaius, the Commissioner and even Bayard had all warned him to keep his distance from the Yard. Gwaine had been sending him updates of the robbery case they were working on. It was some jewellery store in New Bond Street, a very upper class and high profile target and easily solved. They'd be done with it in two weeks tops, only because they would be slowed down by the interviews next week.

Everything, everything will be alright.

Arthur's taste in music weighed heavily in favour of indie rock, and the last track came to an upbeat guitar-filled close. Merlin had listened to the music left on the phone as he weighed one decision against the other. The pros and cons list stuffed in his jacket pocket was a reminder of the day's troubles. It was obvious. There wasn't a decision to be made, and he knew that. He'd already made it. Hell, he'd made it the second Aredian had threatened him. There was just one con that really made him hesitate, but he'd sifted it through with logic.

A soft plucking started up through the earbuds, and then then an oddly clear but muffled voice joined it. It was an Oasis cover, the harsh guitar stripped and smoothed out.

By now you shoulda somehow realised what you gotta do.

Merlin smiled at the lyrics and watched the strangers as they walked by. The bright red buses crossed Waterloo Bridge and caught the sunlight. It was late afternoon, and the day had seen only sunshine and reached a high of twenty four degree celsius. His body still shivered from a cold that wasn't his, but he felt the heat too. The light was comforting even if the the warmth had no real effect. That was the greatest con. If Aredian purged him, he effectively purged Mordred too. If he died, Mordred died too.

Maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me.

He and Mordred would both be removed from the situation. Nimueh wouldn't be able to sacrifice him, which would render her plans moot. Aredian would leave Arthur and the knights alone. Morgana would be safe, Kilgharrah and Gaius too. Gwen and Lance, Gwaine and Percy, Elyan and Leon.

All the roads we have to walk are winding.

Everyone would be safe, including thousands more by stopping Nimueh. Aredian wasn't going to stop, and Merlin couldn't stop him, or save Mordred. He could protect Arthur though, even without his magic. He was his magic, magic was him, but he could still do that. He could save Arthur without it, and because of it. He'd only been able to save Arthur from Morgause seven months prior because of his magic. Without it that shot would have killed him. Morgana would have killed him.

And after all, you're my wonderwall.

Merlin turned the music off and plucked out the headphones. He'd died in this life once already, and it hadn't been terrible. Temporary and from a bullet, which was different, but it must count for something. He'd let Arthur die once before too, let prophecy overrule him. He wasn't going to let that happen again. He couldn't. The decision was strange. It almost left him giddy, but hollow and tired at the same time. Tears rose up into his vision and blurred things slightly. He let them sit and burn for a moment before he wiped them away roughly with the palm of his hand. Merlin stood and walked to the concrete stairs that led up to the bridge.

He brought up Arthur's contact details and called him as he went. Several metallic rings passed before he picked up.

'Merlin? You okay?'

He worked his way up the steps and slipped around strangers, hearing similar background noises of traffic on the other end of the call. 'Yeah, where are you now?'

'Heading home.'

'I'll meet you there.'

'Something's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong, you clotpole.' He crossed to the opposite side of the bridge through the gaps in traffic and narrowly missed a black cab. 'See you in forty?'

'Just ring when you get there and I'll come get you. Gwaine, will you piss off? Yes it's Merlin.' Arthur groaned over the line and Merlin smiled at the sound. 'Gwaine wants to know if you've got an opinion on the Asprey case.'

'Sorry, I haven't been paying a whole lot of attention to it,' he said as he meandered through the tourists and commuters.

'It's fine, I think Gwaine just misses you. Percy is off on a lead with Gwen and and I'm no fun apparently.'

The smile broke out even more. 'You're plenty of fun.'

'Tell him that. Anyway, I'll see you soon, Merlin. Glad you called.'

'See you then,' he said and the call ended with an unwelcome beep of finality. Merlin pushed the mobile back into the leather jacket. Merlin had worn it so much he couldn't smell that strange minty scent that clung to it from time spent with Mordred. Not without magic, anyway. He buried himself further in it when he boarded the bus, standing wedged between suits and other colourless people. He concentrated on the cool touch of the metal bar he held onto with his right hand. The surface was smooth and gradually warmed. He leaned into it heavily and tried to watch the street through the wall of people. If he was leaving all of this tomorrow, leaving it all again, he was going to spend the night happy. Spend it with someone he'd been tied to by fate for centuries. He'd spend it with Arthur.

/The two songs playing when Merlin is sat on the bench are "The Middle by Jimmy Eat World" and "Wonderwall by Ryan Adams".

Also back from university for the summer (first year completed yay :D), so there won't be another four/five month gap before the next chapter (I'm so sorry for the wait but education is always the priority :P)