"I had a normal childhood, for this century at least. I had friends, studied, got into trouble." Arthur's voice sounded dull and bored, but his arms were crossed defensively across his chest while he spoke. "The only thing that could be considered different to any other child were the dreams that I had. They were vivid and strange for a five year old. They were also frequent. Almost every night while I grew up."
Merlin rested his elbows on his knees while he listened, watching while his friend leaned back against the bark of the tree they were under.
"I dreamt that I was a prince and a knight. I had a sword and a cape, and I went on grand adventures with men who depended on me. As a child, none of it made any sense. The older I grew however, the more I would get excited to go to sleep so I could dream again. I'd get to go on those new and interesting adventures." The blond frowned then, staring down at the grass.
"It never occurred to me that none of that was normal. That the dreams I was experiencing were odd or unreal. I felt as though I made my very own screen that played the stories while I slept. I never woke up tired or anything after, and a lot of the time the stories would take weeks to fully play out, and they always did. I always picked up right where I'd left off in the morning when I woke up, like I had simply pressed the pause button." Digging the toe of his sneaker into the mud, Arthur's fingers curled over his arms.
"I dreamt I was older and stronger, and when you're eight, that's the most out of reach thing you can imagine. People adored me, people told stories about Prince Arthur. And I had friends in my dreams. My father moved us to this town right after my eighth birthday, so I hadn't met very many children my age yet. That, and I was put into school in the middle of the year. No one wanted to get to know the new kid. Of course, that didn't bother me like it should have. Why would it? I knew that once I went home and to sleep, I would have everything I was missing."
Merlin's lips turned down in a frown as he tried to imagine his friend so small and alone, looking forward to sleeping at the end of a night like a middle aged man working too hard. It didn't fit. No child should experience that.
"I had nightmares too, and just like my normal dreams, they played out like stories. Which meant they had to finish before a new one could start. There were times those nightmares would last a week or more, and I'd wake up my parents nightly with the way I would shout and scream in my sleep. It terrified them. It terrified me. My dreams were the perfect escape, and they suddenly felt unsafe. But then they would finish, and the exciting and fun ones would return, and I wouldn't care anymore."
Pained blue eyes cut to the warlock then, and Merlin could see how distraught the man was while talking.
"As I got older though, the nightmares stuck out more and more. The death of my people. The death of friends. It started to get harder to be excited about the good stories. And it got harder to tell what was real and what was just the dream."
Merlin couldn't even begin to imagine. Yes, he'd gone through his share of troubles, and he'd experienced not knowing what was real or fiction. But Arthur had been a child dealing with that, and that made it so much worse.
"One night when I was twelve, I dreamt differently. I was no longer a prince, but a king. I was more important than ever, but it came with a price. There was a war. People betrayed me. My knight betrayed me. I was stabbed. And there was so much blood and pain. I woke up screaming and crying, and my parents rushed to my side asking what was wrong. I was clutching my side, the pain burning like fire through my chest."
Hesitating in his tale for a moment, Arthur reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up, causing Merlin to gasp. A discoloration of his skin stretched along his side and chest, exactly where Mordred had stabbed him during the fight that had ultimately ended the king's life.
"They told me it was nothing, just a birthmark that I'd had all my life, but I couldn't believe them. I knew what I'd dreamt, and as time passed, I began to believe that they were no longer dreams. They were memories of a past life. A life when I'd once been King Arthur of Camelot." Merlin's eyebrows shot up, and Arthur frowned at him. "Yes, once upon a time before I fell into a fountain, I believed." He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting out a soft breath.
"My parents had spent years getting me different things related to Arthurian mythology because I had shown such an interest in it from a young age. They'd bought books and stories, play swords and costumes. To the point where all I did, all I focused on, were those stories. But my parents began to grow concerned when I became a teenager." Dropping his head and glaring at the grass, Arthur cut his eyes to Merlin briefly before looking away again.
"Fights started happening at my school. We began studying those legends, and I was made fun of for how much I knew about it all. The other kids began to tease me, mocking me and calling me King Arthur. I never really cared, because a part of me still believed I really was. Then I made the mistake of saying that aloud." Merlin couldn't help grimacing, and Arthur caught the look and nodded.
"More than once after that my parents were called to the school for fights I was either a part of or had started entirely. I spent fourteen covered in scrapes and bruises, as did a lot of the other boys. I was forced to admit what caused those fights, and my parents believed I was delusional."
"Wait, what?" Merlin stared openly, and Arthur looked down at him before slowly sinking to the ground.
"Think about it, Merlin. How would you react as a normal parent? Your kid suddenly starts causing all of these fights, and then comes to you one day and says 'mum, I think I might be the mythical King Arthur reincarnated'. How does that sound?"
"Alright, I guess that's fair." Merlin relented, running a hand through his hair as Arthur rested his folded arms across his knees.
"They started taking me to this psychiatrist, said that talking to someone about my problems would help to clear everything up in my head. I talked to this guy for over two years. About school, a job I had gotten, and my parents. I even talked to him about the dreams I had been having, and you know what he said? That I had an overactive imagination, and that I was coping with the expectations my parents had for me as their only child by trying to live out a fantasy."
Arthur paused after that, and Merlin could see the anger and frustration on his friend's face. How would he have felt if he were in his position? Unseen. Unheard. Mental. Merlin hated that.
He may have lived all these years, but Arthur had been dropped into a life he wasn't remotely prepared for. Magic had a way of twisting things around, no matter how good the intentions.
"I was almost seventeen before I realized there was no point in talking anymore. No one would ever believe me. I had changed schools, I joined a football team, I was making my parents proud again. That was what mattered. The dreams never changed, though they did become less frequent. Some nights were just blank. Empty. And I decided that I would be cured. I stopped talking about the myths, I got rid of almost every piece of Arthurian legend my parents had bought me, and I moved on. At least, I did in their eyes." Turning to look at Merlin, Arthur's expression softened. "You know, I dreamt about you."
"Oh really?" Merlin asked, his lips ticking up into a smile. "Was I your knight in shining armor?"
"Shut it." The man scowled, swinging a hand at him. "No, but really. I never saw your face. It was almost like something was clouding it. But I heard your voice. It was high pitched and annoying as always, like a scared little girl."
"Oh, I bet." Merlin snorted as Arthur grinned.
"You were always around. It was nice, I guess. I could always feel something in the air when you were a part of my dreams. I realize now that it was magic, but back then it was just sort of comforting." Arthur ducked his head in what the warlock assumed was embarrassment at the admittance before he continued.
"When I graduated and started preparing for university, my parents found a small stash I had kept of my favorite Arthurian books. First editions, rare copies, and the very first book my father gave me." Gesturing to the book sitting beside them, Merlin nodded.
"They confronted me about it, asking why I still had them. Because I was older, I assumed I could be truthful with them and not have to face the repercussions. I admitted that I planned on studying Arthurian legend, that I wanted to become a professor in it."
"Like Leon." Merlin cut in, and the blond nodded.
"It turned into this whole fight though, and my father was furious. He'd had a plan for me ever since I was a kid. I was supposed to go to school for business and take over his ventures one day. Now, not only had there been rumors that his only son had gone mental, but now I was throwing away his plan to study something that wasn't real." Arthur wrung his hands together with a frown.
"My father, once he finished yelling, offered me a choice. I could have my school paid for, as was the original plan, but I would study business. Or my father would cut me off, kick me out, and I would have to find a way to pay for university myself, but I could study what I wanted." Arthur lifted his hands then and gestured around them. "Obviously you can see what I chose."
"Why?" Merlin asked softly, causing the man to look over at him.
"I didn't want to lose my family. As much as my father irritates me, and as much as we disagree, I do still love him. And my mother. Besides, I was far from prepared to live on my own at that point. I'm sure I would have managed, but the idea terrified me. So I agreed. I figured there would be no harm in minoring in Arthurian legend still, and they'd never have to know."
Merlin's smirk began to rise, but a frown stayed firm on Arthur's face as he shook his head once. "Don't look too proud, Merlin. When I went to set up my schedule for my first term, my father was already there. Turns out he was friends with the Dean, and he took it upon himself to plan out my every class, making sure I had time for the business meetings I would need to go to while I interned at his company."
A look of disgust settled on the blond's face, and his fingers curled into tight fists. "I thought I could outsmart him. Do what I wanted. But I underestimated him, and it screwed me in the end. I spent the first two terms drinking and partying as much as possible. Out of spite, I suppose. It's not as if I actually had any fun with it all. I just wanted to make him angry."
"Did it?"
"Sure, of course. I was arrested once even. But somehow all of that was better than what he felt was my obsession. I realized everything I wanted was completely out of reach. I found another therapist, and I started taking medication. My dreams stopped, I focused on my studies, and I accepted my fate." He shrugged as if that were it, but Merlin couldn't believe that.
"You never told anyone what you believed? Or even what your father made you do?" It was the right question. Or maybe the wrong one.
Arthur immediately became guarded, looking away again as he tucked in on himself. "I was dating this girl last year. Nothing serious, just for some fun. But she found that book and started making jokes about how it was the reason that I talked in my sleep. According to her, I would mumble about the knights, or a Merlin, or of Camelot. I told her that it was nothing, but she kept making fun. I stopped seeing her after that. I never even told her the truth and she still mocked. I couldn't take it anymore. The mockery, the jokes, the feeling like I had gone completely mad." He shook his head, and the two fell into silence.
"You're not mad." Merlin said softly after a few moments had passed. "At least, no more than I am." He shrugged, and Arthur let out a snort in response.
"Not really reassuring, Merlin." He pointed out, eyeing his friend while the warlock smiled.
"It was prophesized that you would return. This was destined to happen one day."
"So you've said." Arthur spoke dryly, picking at the cuticles on one of his hands while staring off at the campus.
The rain had slowed considerably, but students still hurried past with bags and binders held over their heads in an effort to stay dry.
"I'm sorry for what happened. And I'm sorry I can't make any of this easier for you." Merlin spoke, running his fingers along the grass in front of him.
"It doesn't matter. Besides, it's not your fault. I'll try talking to my mother, see if she can't change his mind." The blond shrugged, leaning back and stretching as Merlin perked up.
"Your mother is still alive here?"
Arthur nodded once, his expression softening. "Yeah. One good thing in all the chaos." Sitting up straighter, he looked up at the leaves of the tree they'd chosen for shelter as a few drops of water fell through the cracks around them. "She never agreed with my father when he would go off on me, but she stood by his side and followed his word like the law. She felt that was what a wife was meant to do."
"Stand by and not say a word? I think Gwen would disagree." Merlin chuckled. When Arthur didn't respond however, the warlock's expression sobered quickly. "You alright?" He should've realized Gwen would be a sensitive subject with him.
"I miss her is all. I didn't know I missed her until my memories came back, but then.." Arthur trailed off, and Merlin found guilt rushing through him for even making the comment in the first place.
"I'm sorry." He said again, watching while his friend glared at him.
"Would you quit apologizing for things? None of this is your fault, Merlin. None of it."
"But what if—" Merlin's words were suddenly cut off as a football flew past them and hit the trunk of the tree, splattering water all over as it rolled to a stop right in front of the warlock.
"What the hell?" Arthur stared, jerking away from the muddy ball.
"Apologies, mates!" A man shouted, bounding towards them through the rain.
He wore a pair of tight, muddied jeans, and a jersey that was sopping wet and dripping water as he ducked beneath the branches. A wide grin spread across the man's face as he bent over and scooped up the ball, seemingly oblivious to the extra mud that spread across his chest from the action.
"Can't skip out on a game just because it's a bit wet out." He beamed, tucking the ball up under his arm and offering a small wave before he took off across the field, leaving the two men speechless.
"Oh my God." Arthur finally broke the silence, and all Merlin could do was nod. "That looked just like—"
"Gwaine. I know." Merlin uttered, straining to see where the man had gone. "We need to go get your computer."
"What, why?"
"I want to go online and check the student registry."
"Wait," Arthur lifted a hand when Merlin looked back, and the blond's face was screwed up in confusion. "You think there are more of the knights here?"
"I think there's more at play than we realize. If that's true, then no, you are not the only who has returned."
The blond blinked at him in silence for a moment before his eyes lit up. "Do you think Gwen..?" The question was quiet, and Merlin found himself shaking his head, not wanting to get his friend's hopes up too high.
"I don't know," Merlin admitted. "But I think it's about time we find out."
A/N
So many people are returning! Are the knights getting back together like a broken up boy band? Who knows. Maybe they're all on Morgana's side now. But, whatever the case, I hope you all will stick around to keep reading and find out!