He hated the environment, he hated tests, he hated finals, and he hated Professor Nitwit! Arthur slumped into the kitchen, annoyed, and flung open the cupboard. Pulling out a jar of peanut butter like it had insulted him and nearly ripped off the lid, sticking his finger inside. He pulled it out and shoved it into his mouth, thinking darkly of how he could fail this class and hardly give a damn. In the end, he decided he had better pass the class or his parents would have his head. So, he stalked back into the living room, pulling the dreaded environments book back onto his lap. But he didn't study, instead he grabbed a piece of spare paper and started doodling. (Men can doodle!)
Merlin walked out of the bedroom sometime later, arms wrapped around himself as he did, Arthur had thought it was rather cold today. He looked up at Merlin, once he had sat down on the couch.
"Am I bothering you?" Merlin asked and Arthur shrugged. "I just wanted to know if I could barrow a jumper."
"You don't have to ask, you know that!" Arthur told him, waving off the idea. But then it struck him, he really didn't need to be sharing clothes with Merlin. Merlin should have his own clothes. "We're going to the mall tomorrow," Arthur stated. "We're buying you some clothes, and then you won't have to worry about asking."
"I have my own clothes!" Merlin said back, Arthur looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Where do you keep these clothes?" he asked. "Have you got some magic bag like Merry Poppins hidden somewhere in the UK?"
"No, they're in my house," Merlin said, like it was perfectly normal that he had a house. Last Arthur had known, the man was homeless. "I'm not homeless," Merlin added, as if he knew what Arthur had been thinking. "You just never asked if I did have a house…"
"Where the hell is this house?"
"I could take you there," Merlin shrugged. "It's a bit of a trip though."
"Let's go now!" Arthur insisted, fully interested in Merlin's supposed house. He thought vaguely of a cardboard box being destroyed in an ally somewhere. He hoped that wasn't Merlin's house.
"Arthur, it's hours away!"
"I've got time."
"But aren't you...?" Merlin tried to ask, but Arthur picked up the paper and showed Merlin the doodle of the shape ship he had been drawing and Merlin chuckled. "Alright then, since you're not busy studying."
Arthur got up, leaving his book on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen again, grabbing his jacket and the car keys. By the time he was done doing this, Merlin, who had gone back into the bedroom to grab a jumper, came into the kitchen, he was shoving something in his pocket as he did. Arthur didn't pay much attention to this, yelling a goodbye to Mr. Noodles and headed outside.
In the car, Merlin insisted on taking a train to…wherever his house was.
"Look, Arthur….it's just easier; my house isn't exactly on the main road and...there isn't any roads to get to it."
Arthur was really starting to think it wasn't a house at all. He sighed and agreed, driving to the train station. Merlin had handled buying the tickets while Arthur stood back and watched. Merlin seemed rather happy about taking Arthur to…wherever they were going and this made Arthur grin a bit, as they entered the train car, taking two seats. Merlin allowed Arthur the window seat.
"You're such a weird guy," Arthur said, because he had been thinking it. Merlin grinned at him. "Where is your house exactly?"
"On a lake," Merlin replied, simply. Soon enough the train started moving and Arthur sighed, sinking into the seat behind him. He should be home studying, he knew this. But he couldn't pass up seeing where Merlin lived, until today he had thought he was homeless.
The train ride had been good few hours, as they got off the train it was nearing midday. So much for studying, Arthur thought. Eh, maybe tomorrow. He followed Merlin, through the train station and out of the front doors.
"It's only a few minute walk," Merlin explained, looking around with a pleasant, familiar look on his face. He started off, heading to the right, passing a welcome sign. Arthur continued to follow him, down the side of a highway. (Or just a very busy road, he wasn't sure.) Cars and tall, blue trucks passed them as they went. Arthur watched Merlin ahead, walking along the road like he had walked this path a thousand times and he probably had. They reached a lake and Arthur paused by the road. Merlin wasn't kidding then, he actually lived on a lake. Though, as Arthur looked around, he saw no house. That worried him.
Merlin didn't seem to notice Arthur hadn't been following him anymore, he walked closer to the water and stopped at the edge, looking out. Arthur watched him still, the sun formed around him, glistening off the blue water and from the sky, making it seem like Merlin glowed. Arthur gulped at the thought, walking forward. He saw now, as he came to stand next to Merlin, that there was a small island in the middle of the lake, he hoped Merlin's house wasn't on it.
"Lake Avalon," Merlin stated, answering Arthur's unasked question. He turned to Arthur and smiled then. "My house is just over there," he pointed to the other side of the lake and Arthur looked, in the shadows of some trees, stood a small house. "Come on."
When they reached the house, Arthur stopped to admire it. It was made entirely out of wood. The windows were circle, like something you should find on a cruise ship and the door was oval. The house had the feeling of being very old. Merlin walked forward and seemly opened the door with ease; Arthur wondered why the hell he had left the doors unlocked as they entered. Just like the outside, the inside was made of wood, all the archways were ovaled and with the sun shining in, it all looked rather romantic. Arthur thought of staying here for a holiday, lounging outside by the lake, in the sunshine and a campfire at night. He walked into the dining area and saw a circled, wooden table in the center. (It really seemed Merlin liked wood.) Merlin walked up next to Arthur and ran a hand over the wooden surface.
"I got this table from Camelot," he explained, Arthur looked over at him with a (worried) raised eyebrow. "It was half burnt by the time I got there, but I managed to make this, it was the round table."
But of course, Arthur thought, Merlin had his very own round table. Arthur nodded then, turning away from it. He saw all of the half-staffed burnt candles and figured, Merlin didn't have any power; how did he watch the telly? Merlin followed Arthur around now, as he looked around the house. In the sitting room sat a ratty sofa and no TV at all, in the bedroom was a single bed with red sheets, a nightstand, and a big cupboard, that took up most of the room. Merlin walked over to it and ran his hands along the wood, as if it were a lover.
"This was…the king's," he said, Arthur didn't respond. (He didn't know how to.) "His room was the only room untouched by the fire when I got there; I took as much as I could."
"What caused the fire?" Arthur finally asked, not sure what to say about the cupboard, it was a nice cupboard. But that was all, really.
"The king that destroyed the kingdom, everyone had left by then," Merlin sighed. "The land had gone dry, the man who was supposed king sucked the money and life from the whole kingdom."
"Why?" Arthur asked, lamely.
"He was greedy, he only cared about himself," Merlin shrugged, Arthur nodded and turned to leave then, glancing once more at the cupboard before he left. He could hear Merlin, following behind still.
"I didn't bring you here to talk about Camelot, I want to show you something," Merlin said, passing Arthur, in the hall, and going to another cupboard, this one in the sitting room, and more along the lines of a filing cabinet. Merlin pulled open a drawer and inside was rows and rows of different papers and what not. He pulled out one, that looked brownish-egg shell; with a hit of old age about it. He brought it over and placed it on the mini-round table then, smiling up at Arthur.
"Read it."
Arthur looked at him, as he leaned down and picked it up, looking over the carefully written words.
"Merlin," he started reading, glancing at Merlin, who held a mourning smile now. "Merlin, I realize it was wrong to have called you a coward, you are still one of the bravest men I have ever known. Whatever the reason is, that you cannot accompany me to Camalnn, must be of great importance," Arthur stopped reading and glanced at Merlin once more; he now had tears in his eyes, but was listening intently to Arthur anyway. "I consider myself lucky to call you a friend; you have always been at my side, no matter the cause. my only wish is you trusted me enough to tell me your secrets in return. Once I have returned from battle and this war is won, I think we need to talk."
Arthur looked up at Merlin again, who openly wept now, Arthur didn't know what to say or what he had just read. So, he (not so) calmly waited for Merlin to pull himself together for an answer.
"I found that on my bed, when I returned to Camelot, after…" he trailed off and Arthur nodded, not needing to hear the rest. But he still didn't know what to say, he only watched as Merlin pulled something from his jumpers pocket. "Look at this," Merlin said, handing the bit of paper to Arthur. "Look at the signatures."
Arthur looked down at the paper, it was the note Arthur had left him, the day he went to class and come back to find Merlin lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor. He looked between the quick jerks of his own rushed note and the calmness and importance of the other letter. He followed them both down to the signature. That day he wasn't sure why he had written his name at the end of the note, who the hell else would leave Merlin a message on the table? But still, he had. The king had signed his name too. Dignified and structured. Arthur's breath hitched in his throat as he looked between them, they were the same, almost exactly. The loop in the A was the same, and the curve of the first R was the same. The only difference was the quickness Arthur had written in, while the other was careful and meaningful; the signature of a king. Arthur set them both on the table, still looking between them as he leaned over the table, heart racing.
"Do you see it?" Merlin was asking, but Arthur couldn't respond. Yes he saw it, he would have to be blind not to. "I never thought I'd see it again, that signature, and then...there it was," Merlin sighed. "I guess I sort of just lost control then, and my magic reacted."
This had to be faked, Arthur thought. Merlin faked it! But how could he? He hadn't hardly left Arthur's side since he had arrived on that rainy night. 'You have always been at my side, no matter the cause.' Arthur's chest hurt, it hurt really badly. It felt like all of the air had been sucked from his body; he was light headed and very, very nauseas. It couldn't be real, Arthur was so sure Merlin was crazy. If this all was real…then Merlin really was a thousand and some year old wizard, and Arthur really was a reincarnated king. But this sort of thing didn't happen in real life! He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked back at Merlin, who was watching him, worried.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Arthur said, standing up right, even though he couldn't breathe. He was sure this is what a heart attack felt like. He handed the king's letter back to Merlin and sighed. He was breathing, he knew he was, but it still didn't feel like any air was getting into his chest.
"Are you sure, because…"
"I'm fine," Arthur said again, trying to reassure himself more than Merlin. He had just suffered from a major mind fuck, he needed a minute. "I really am," he handed the other note back to Merlin and he pocketed that one, while he looked longingly down at the king's letter. "He was going to tell you he was in love with you."
"What?" Merlin asked, looking up at Arthur suddenly. Arthur had said it, but he didn't really know why, it had just struck him in that moment, while he was reading. It was true too, he knew it was.
"Him…the king," Arthur pointed down to the letter. "He was going to tell you he was in love with you, that's what he wanted to talk about."
"No," Merlin shook his head, looking at Arthur like he was an idiot. "He had Gwen."
"I don't know," Arthur shrugged, smiling a little. "If that Gwen was anything like this one…"
"She wasn't, not really…" Merlin trialed off, walking back over to the filing cupboard. Putting the letter away. "Is that all you got from the letter?"
Arthur shrugged, trying to clear his head. If this was real, why didn't he remember? If he was really the king, why didn't he remember that life? If he and Merlin had been so close, how come he didn't remember Merlin?
"I believe you, you know," he said, still trying, desperately to remember, anything, at all. A castle, a room, Merlin….nothing came to him. "I can't remember, but I believe you."
Merlin walked back over to him, quickly, and smiled.
"I told you I wasn't crazy!" he said.
"Nah, I'm thinking I'm the crazy one, actually," Arthur grinned back. "Sooner or later I'm going to wake up and write a book about this."
(A/N: We finally see why Merlin reacted so strongly to the letter, and so at least now Arthur believes Merlin, he still doesn't remember...will he ever remember? This chap felt a bit rushed to me, but I ran out of things to say, UGH! Anyway, comment and tell me what you think! Oh...and Merlin isn't homeless, SURPRISE!)