The sky was dark and cloudy, hiding any trace of the moon and stars, creating a blanket that shrouded the sky above. Streetlights were lit up in intervals around them, but the other businesses were shut down for the night. Most people were already home with their families, asleep in their beds and snoring away.
Merlin knew that his friends were probably wishing they were doing the same. Instead, they stood outside in the freezing wind on the street, waiting and watching as two security guards made slow rounds inside the museum across from them.
"This is stupid." Arthur huffed, his breath clouding around him as he stamped his feet and huddled further down into his coat.
His bright blond hair was hidden beneath a thick black beanie, and a scarf was pulled up around his face so when he spoke his words came out muffled. Merlin had half a mind to tighten the scarf around his face, effectively cutting off any further complaints the man felt the need to share. Instead, the warlock settled for a roll of his eyes as he stuffed his own frozen hands into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt.
"What, you're telling me you aren't happy to be on another adventure with us, Your Majesty?" Gwaine teased from behind, and when Merlin glanced back at him, caught sight of a flask in his hand.
"You're not seriously drinking right now." Merlin chided, watching as the knight shrugged and flashed him a grin.
"Just trying to stay warm out here." Gwaine beamed, but behind his smile Merlin could see the strain on his face.
Gwaine had been drinking a lot more recently, ever since he remembered. It was his way of coping, Merlin supposed, so he couldn't really blame him. Elyan smelled of smoke all the time nowadays, and Percival had gotten two new tattoos.
Leon and Lancelot seemed to be the only two having an easier time in coping, but even Merlin couldn't ignore the tension that had been steadily growing between Lance and Gwen. Sighing, the warlock turned back towards the museum, catching sight of the two guards disappearing around the corner of the building.
"Now." He said, surging forward while keeping low to the ground.
Arthur and Gwaine's muffled footsteps sounded behind him, and Merlin paused next to the locked side door only briefly.
Lifting his hand, he felt an old power rise inside him. "Aliese duru rýne."
The lock clicked and Merlin twisted the knob, a breath of relief leaving him when no alarm went off. Slipping inside, the three men navigated the various halls until they stood across from the Arthurian exhibit.
"Of course." Arthur scowled, staring at the pull down grate that blocked them off from the exhibit.
"I'll handle this one." Gwaine declared, pulling a large pair of bolt cutters from his bag.
Merlin stared in surprise as the knight slipped forward and easily cut the thin lock securing the grate, easing the metal up enough for them to slip under.
"Why did you bring those?" Merlin gawked as Arthur slid inside.
"I trust you, Merlin. But sometimes the best tool is force, not magic." Gwaine winked, tucking them back into his bag along with the lock.
As the two of them joined Arthur inside the exhibit, Gwaine paused, staring at the old robes and snorting. "Nice clothes, Arthur."
"Shut it, Gwaine." The man snapped as Merlin's phone chimed.
Pulling it from his pocket, the warlock cursed as he read the message from Percival. Sinking low to the ground and moving to a wall hidden in shadows, he looked around for the other two.
"Get down!" He hissed, waving his hand at them as Arthur dropped down behind a display across the room and Gwaine slid next to one of the hanging tapestries.
Moments later, two dark shadows passed across the hall, and Merlin stared at the grate that they'd left partially lifted. Pressing his lips together in frustration, the warlock lifted his hand and whispered a single word.
"Clyse!"
Moving his hand slowly down, the grate followed his movement, sliding quietly back into place as Gwaine's wide eyes met his across the room. Several seconds passed in silence before the shadows appeared right outside the exhibit.
A torch beam passed over the floor and Arthur pressed himself tighter against the display he hid behind. Finally, the light disappeared, and the shadows of the guards moved on soon after. Merlin's phone went off again another few seconds later, and he relaxed at the message from Lancelot.
"We're clear." Merlin whispered, pushing away from the wall and gathering with his two friends.
Together they walked to the back of the exhibit where a case sat on display with two dim lights illuminating the sword.
"She hasn't done anything to it yet." Arthur noted, his shoulders relaxing as Merlin gave a single, sharp nod.
"Which means we have to get it out of here right now." Kneeling down, the warlock studied the edges of the case before he stood and stretched out both of his hands. "Onstyrian, onbregdan." The glass lid slowly lifted into the air, allowing access to the sword underneath.
"Couldn't we have just lifted it manually?" Arthur asked in a bored tone as Merlin's magic set the lid carefully on the ground.
"Do you want your fingerprints left behind?" The warlock asked, giving the blond a pointed glare.
"Whatever." He muttered, stifling a yawn.
Rolling his eyes, Merlin stood in front of the case and carefully reached inside for the sword. As his fingers touched the base of the hilt, they slipped straight through, causing the entire sword's image to shudder like a shaken projector.
"What the hell?" The warlock stared, reaching for it again, and passing through it like a ghost.
"It's not there." Gwaine sounded stunned, hovering over his shoulder while Arthur leaned in to look as well.
"This is a trap." Merlin said, pulling his hand back as a scoff sounded across the room.
"Oh, is it now?" Morgana's voice drifted over to them from the back of the room, and as she came walking out of the shadows, the anger on her face was clear.
"Morgana." Merlin spoke, standing protectively over the fake sword as Gwaine and Arthur both drew away from him.
"Hello, Merlin. Arthur." The woman said, her eyes drifting from the warlock over to the king.
"What, I don't get my own hello?" Gwaine complained, his voice tense and his hand resting at his side as if he was about to ready a weapon.
Morgana sneered at the knight as she took another step forward, her dark pantsuit hiding her well in the shadows of the walls. "Hello, Gwaine."
"Where is the sword?" Merlin demanded, his hands balling into small fists as the fake projection rippled.
"That's what I'd like to know." Morgana scowled, bringing the warlock's racing mind to a screeching halt.
"Wait, what?"
"Why are you here?" The woman huffed, her arms folding across her chest while her eyes skirted over all three of them.
"Why are we here?" Arthur asked, throwing out his hands as he did. "Why are you here?"
"I'm trying to live my life!" Morgana snapped, her cheeks flushing from anger as hard, dark eyes glared at the king. "You ruined my last one, so I'm trying to make the most out of this one!"
"We ruined it? You ruined it yourself!" Arthur shot back, taking a step closer. "You killed so many people, innocent people, Morgana."
"You say those words as if you haven't done the same." The woman spat, bringing Arthur's rage to a halt.
"Wait. Everyone just, hold on for a moment." Merlin leaned over the case again, his breath causing the image of the blade to shudder, ripples of light distorting the mirage.
"Why did you collect all of this? What are you planning?" Arthur asked, reaching to his side as well, no doubt looking for a sword that was no longer there.
"I'm not planning anything!" Morgana scowled, gesturing around them at the items on display. "I was hired to create this exhibit."
"Yeah, right. Just like you were 'hired' to steal Camelot's throne right out from under me!"
"It was my throne, I am the one who deserved to sit upon it, not you!" Morgana uttered darkly, her voice low and threatening.
"Stop bickering over a chair!" Merlin snapped, his eyes darting around the edges of the exhibit.
Other than the places to set the blade upon for display, the case was empty. Or so he thought. When he looked closer, small indentations were placed every few inches, with small covers that looked as though they slid in and out of place.
"Why are you even here in the middle of the night? Were you following us?" Arthur demanded, glowering at the woman who rolled her eyes.
"I wanted to speak with you, and I knew you'd end up back here after I saw you in the exhibit. I want you all to leave me alone."
"Us? Leave you alone?" Gwaine stared, his head shaking with a laugh. "I think it's more the other way, with you leaving us be!"
"I haven't done anything to bother you!" Morgana spat, her voice low but rising in pitch the angrier she got. "I didn't even know you remembered who you were!"
"Why exactly do you remember?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously as Merlin looked over each of them in turn as his mind raced.
"I've known who I was since I was a child, and I'm just trying to live my life right this time." Morgana's voice was so earnest, a piece of the warlock yearned to believe her. Unfortunately, his suspicions were too high in that moment to give it more than a fleeting thought.
"Something else is going on here." Merlin mumbled, leaning back over the case and reaching his hand inside.
He brushed his fingertips over one of the small holes, and a panel no bigger than his fingernail fought back when he tried to pry it open. Why were there so many set into the base like they were?
"You have the sword." Arthur spoke harshly, stepping closer to the woman who let out a strangled laugh.
"Had. I had the sword. When I came in here and found it missing tonight I figured you'd already been here and taken it. That was until I saw your ridiculous, foolhardy crew outside pretending to play spies."
"Who hired you to create this exhibit?" Merlin asked suddenly, half of his body still hovering over the case, but his head tilted to look at Morgana.
"My benefactor." She shrugged, her brows drawing together in thought.
"Yes, but who is your benefactor?"
"I don't know." Morgana said slowly, cutting her eyes to Arthur before looking back at Merlin. "He wanted to remain anonymous. I'm good at what I do, and when he reached out, I figured this was the perfect opportunity to set the record straight."
"About what?" Arthur frowned.
"About my story." Morgana sneered again as Gwaine turned to the warlock who had a frown of his own.
"What's wrong, Merlin?"
"This is all some big game." Merlin mumbled, looking back as the image of the sword suddenly vanished.
At the same time, nine small valves shot open at the base of the display and gas began to billow out, directly into the warlock's face. Coughing, Merlin stumbled away from the fumes, his face and lungs burning as his vision clouded.
"Merlin!" Gwaine yelled, catching the man's shoulders as he crashed to the floor.
"What did you do to him?" Arthur demanded, pulling a knife he'd hidden in his pocket out and turning it on Morgana.
Black spots began to fill the warlock's vision, and Merlin's head was throbbing as he coughed again. His mouth tasted like metal, and his lungs screamed each time he drew in a ragged breath.
His head lay in Gwaine's lap, his friend gripping his shoulders and uttering some useless phrases like 'hang in there' and 'hold on' as if he weren't trying to hang in and hold on. Somewhere in the distance the sound of sirens appeared, followed by the sound of Morgana chanting as Arthur suddenly lunged for her.
"No," Merlin coughed, trying to sit up. His lungs constricted with the movement and pain washed over him as blood dripped from his nose. "It's not her.." He whispered, his eyes falling shut as pain stabbed through his chest like a hot knife and forced him to fall back.
"Who?" Arthur shouted, but his voice was echoing through a tunnel, and Merlin didn't have the strength to respond.
The noise of footsteps both running away and growing close sounded, and the warlock's body was hoisted up with a grunt.
"This was a set up. The sword is gone, and now we're trapped." Arthur hissed, his voice right next to his ear as Merlin pried his eyes open.
They were no longer in the exhibit, but a storage room, and each of his arms were slung over both Gwaine and Arthur as they whispered.
"We've got to get him out of here and get him some help. How would we even explain this to the police if they catch us?" Gwaine shuddered, and Merlin's eyes drifted to the ground where a small puddle of blood had gathered beneath them. Where was it coming from?
"Morgana..?" Merlin croaked, sending blood splattering to the floor as his wet lips cracked.
Oh. The blood was coming from him. Damn.
"She ran. Left us here to take the blame." Arthur scowled, repositioning the warlock as Merlin's next breath wheezed out of him.
He felt ill, his nose stopped up and raw, but when he tried to sniff, blood trickled down his chin and joined the growing puddle between his feet.
"There!" Gwaine shouted in a hushed tone, but when Merlin tried to turn his head to see what he'd found, the world swayed and darkened until he was forced to close his eyes again.
"Clean up some of the blood." A new voice spoke a moment later, and when Merlin found the strength to lift his eyelids he was staring at the back of a car seat. "He'll choke if we don't clean this up. He has to be able to breathe."
That was Leon's voice. When had Leon joined them? And when had they gotten into a car?
"He needs a hospital." Arthur's voice came next, strained and afraid, and somewhere above him.
Merlin tried to move, but something shifted beneath him, and a hand on his shoulder urged him to stay still.
"I don't think a doctor can help him." Leon's grave voice sent a wave of silence throughout the car, only broken by a weak cough as Merlin's body shuddered.
"We need to find somewhere safe to lie low." Lancelot sighed, somewhere in front of them.
The car moved and bumped around, and fresh pain stabbed through the warlock's eyes, forcing him to shut them tight to fight back the wave of nausea that surfaced.
"The sword was stolen." Another voice whispered, followed by a flash of pain shooting through Merlin's lungs.
"A guard was lying dead just outside. Stabbed straight through the heart. There were no excuses we could have given if we'd stayed." The next voice brought fire bursting through his head.
"He's going to die." The third voice brought heavy darkness that left Merlin immobile but feeling every moment of pain. It was an inescapable hell, leaving the warlock wishing for the first time in weeks that he'd died all those years ago beside Arthur in Camelot.
A/N
Well, well, well. Is Morgana innocent? Is there a new villain? Is Merlin going to die? This was a fun chapter to write, but maybe because I've been watching a few too many crime shows lately. Oh well. I hope you guys enjoyed!