lady_ragnell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-01-09 11:32 pm
lady_ragnell) wrote2011-01-09 11:32 pm
A Metaphor of Human Bloody Existence, part 3
Part One (contains summary and AN)
Part Two
Merlin stays out at the farm after that, and continues letting Gwaine get the groceries. Aredian still hasn’t left, and Arthur has taken to texting Merlin more and more frequently as two more days go by.
Is the frog-coughing offer still on the table? he sends during breakfast, and Merlin chokes on his toast, which makes Gwaine smirk and Freya look alarmed.
Thus far I can turn him into a frog, but not make him cough them. Working on it, though, he replies, and that starts off all sorts of dreadful suggestions of tortures for Aredian. Gwaine joins in when Merlin is finally forced to explain what he’s grinning about, and when Freya realizes they’re talking about Aredian, she joins in, although her suggestions are sometimes a bit terrifying.
A. keeps having accidents and being remarkably clumsy. Your fault? comes the next morning.
Merlin has to think about that for a few minutes, because he’s certainly been known to do accidental magic before, especially on people he dislikes, but he can’t feel his power anywhere it shouldn’t be. Then he asks Freya, who bites her lip and shakes her head and says she still isn’t ready to use her magic again. He asks Gaius as well, just for the sake of completeness, and only gets a disdainful raise of eyebrows in response.
No. Maybe he’s hungover he replies eventually.
And he would even almost believe it--except Arthur keeps texting. To say Aredian tripped over nothing. To say he keeps misplacing papers, or that he set his sleeve on fire trying to light a cigarette, or that he looks more alarmed every time it happens. Merlin wonders at first if the dragon figured out some way of doing something, because he knows it’s not him doing it, but figures if the dragon were more powerful it would not manifest itself on groceries.
A. insulted Morgana and his car blew up, Arthur texts that night.
Merlin texts back as fast as he can type. Bring her here. Now. And Gwen. “Gaius,” he yells. “We’ve got a problem!”
By the time Arthur arrives, Gaius has finished shouting at Merlin for recklessly revealing secrets, Freya has retreated to her room, and Gwaine is demanding to know what the hell they’re all talking around. He softens when they come through the door, at least. Arthur’s expression is surprisingly neutral, but Morgana is wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf. Gwen is holding her arm and looking worried. “What’s going on?” she asks, sitting Morgana down at Gaius’s kitchen table. “Arthur just dragged her into the kitchen while Lancelot and I were doing the last few dinner orders and said we were leaving.”
“Morgana, do you know what happened?” Merlin asks.
“I--” She looks between all of them and predictably enough settles on looking at Gwen. “Should I be worried? None of you is pleased with me right now.”
“We haven’t dragged you here to kill you and leave you to fertilize the potato beds,” says Arthur.
“I doubt you’re organically certified,” Merlin adds, and everyone else glares at the two of them for derailing the conversation. “Sorry. But do you have any idea what happened?”
“I was talking with Aredian, and I felt a little odd, that’s all.” She raises her chin, daring any of them to contradict her.
“And then his car blew up,” Arthur contributes.
Gwen and Gwaine blink in unison, but Morgana’s gone pale, so Merlin’s pretty sure she understands what might be going on. “But I didn’t--I couldn’t--”
It’s rare but not unheard of for people to discover they have magic when they’re older, especially when their talents aren’t quite as flashy as Merlin’s can be. Morgana’s always been quick to guess what other people are thinking or telling when something’s going to go wrong, but she doesn’t seem prone to blowing things up. Other than Aredian’s car, and Merlin really can’t blame her there. “You probably did,” he says as gently as he can. “It seems you’ve got magic.”
It’s surprisingly easy to convince Morgana. She’s shaken, and worried, but Merlin knows how it feels to suddenly have everything odd about your life explained. Gwen takes it well, too. “I always knew there was something different about her,” she says quietly when Merlin checks to make sure she’s okay. “This is--this is weird, especially knowing you and Gaius, but … it makes sense.”
Gwaine, though, is unusually quiet through the explanations and the demonstrations, and he excuses himself before Merlin can take him aside and apologize for springing it on him. When he goes upstairs, he goes in the direction of Freya’s room and not his own, and Merlin spares a second to hope that doesn’t go horribly awry.
“So what’s this got to do with Aredian?” Morgana asks finally into the awkward silence that follows Gwaine’s departure.
Gaius is the one who answers. “He can sense magic, and he likes to hurt those with it. He probably knew about yours before you knew about it. It’s why he’s stayed in Albion so long, most likely.” He pauses. “And it’s likely he’s reporting to Morgause.”
Morgana freezes. “What do you mean?”
“She’s got magic too. Freya told us. She and some others at Avalon, they use it to do some pretty awful things in business, and they sort of … convince reluctant people to join them. They’ve found a relatively large group of us, here, which is probably why Aredian’s stayed so long.” Merlin wonders how much of Freya’s story to betray. “They aren’t always nice about it,” he settles on at last, and Arthur gives him a sharp look and shifts closer to him.
Now Morgana looks really shaken, and Gwen’s mouth is pressed tightly closed again, but she doesn’t pull away when Morgana puts a hand over hers on the table. “Surely Morgause wouldn’t--we’re friends,” she says at last. “She never asked me anything about Albion or Camelot.”
“I’m sorry,” says Merlin, and shrugs helplessly. Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder and Merlin leans into the touch as much as he dares. “It’s not just Camelot, though. I mean, sure, she’d love to shut it down, and that was what the mouse and Val were there for, but then Val got word to her somehow about the magic, I’m guessing, and now she wants … us.” Arthur’s grip tightens, and Merlin gives his best reassuring look while he waits for someone else to say something.
“So if she means to do this to us,” Morgana says at last in a flat tone, and Gwen turns her hand over to squeeze her fingers, “then what do we do about it?”
Gaius opens his mouth to say something, probably about being prudent, but Arthur beats him to it. “We call Gwaine and Freya back downstairs. All of us have to be in on this.”
“And then?” says Gwen.
“And then we come up with a plan,” says Arthur, and smiles.
*
The plan, after scrapping back and forth (mostly between Morgana and Arthur), turns out to be researching records to get Aredian, Morgause, and anyone working with them arrested, and it doesn’t work well. Gaius and Freya go to the local records office, and Morgana gets on the internet, but none of them turn anything up at all. On top of that, Gwaine and Gwen between them manage to spill to whole business to Lancelot because apparently neither of them can keep a secret, and Merlin is feeling increasingly like the whole of Albion is going to know about magic and the Avalon problem before it’s solved.
Of course, all of that is minor setbacks compared to the fact that Aredian walks into Camelot while Merlin is in the midst of having a shouting row with a box of cereal. “Seriously, you’ve got to give me specifics if you expect me to save the day heroically!” he yells, and someone coughs behind him.
It is not, he discovers a horrified moment later, Arthur, who is standing at the till with his mouth open. Merlin managed to spill the whole business about the dragons to the group after muttering about destiny one time too many, so he didn’t ask Merlin too many questions when Merlin entered his shop and immediately started interrogating his inventory. Instead, there’s Aredian with a supercilious smile on his face. “Young man, are you quite all right?”
“I’m … practicing lines. Albion’s trying to get a bit of community theater going. And I’m practicing for my audition. But Arthur won’t practice with me. So I’m practicing with … this …”
“Cartoon dragon, yes,” says Aredian.
“Our Merlin’s a bit odd,” says Arthur, aiming for jovial and landing somewhere around panicked.
Aredian just smiles, thin and pleased. “Gentlemen, we’re alone, and perhaps it’s time to lay all of our cards on the table.”
Merlin shifts around, trying to get himself between Arthur and Aredian. He’s somewhat hampered by the fact that Arthur seems to have the same idea, coming out from behind the counter. “Cards? What cards?” says Merlin, edging away from the cereal aisle, since the dragons don’t seem to feel like being helpful. “This is a card-free establishment.”
Arthur sighs. “Merlin, you are not helping.”
“I will not find an error here,” says Aredian like they haven’t even said anything. He turns while Merlin skirts around him, but seems more amused by the protective effort than anything else. “It would be better if I did. Dealing with me is far preferable to dealing with Morgause.”
“We don’t respond to intimidation around here, thanks,” says Arthur.
“She knows how much magic there is in this town,” Aredian announces casually, and Merlin manages to get between them, although Arthur immediately grabs Merlin’s arm and shoves him to the side until they’re standing next to each other. “If you’d allow yourself to be shut down just temporarily, I’m sure she’d be less likely to … make her interest known.”
Merlin snorts, and winces when Arthur elbows him for it. “I’m not really inclined to believe you there.”
“Believe it or don’t, but you won’t like the consequences if you continue to be stubborn.”
“He sounds like a panto villain,” says Merlin in a stage whisper, because he’ll feel far less guilty for making Aredian cough frogs if he’s actually attacked first.
“You will agree to being cited for a hidden vermin infestation and close Camelot while it’s fixed. You will not reopen until after Avalon has opened its doors next month. If you don’t agree to these terms, I will be forced to tell Morgause you were uncooperative.”
Merlin takes a second to think that Gaius will be disappointed, and Freya and Morgana will both be upset that he didn’t let them help, but he really doesn’t have the patience to deal with Aredian’s threats and general being an arse. “I could kill you and make it look like a heart attack, you know,” he says conversationally, even though he would never actually do it. Arthur’s alarmed look isn’t comforting, though.
“Morgause would see to it that you were prosecuted,” Aredian says coolly.
“She’s using you just like she wants to use Mer--my friends,” says Arthur, shouldering Merlin behind him again. “Or do you just enjoy ruining people’s lives so much that you don’t care?”
Aredian opens his mouth, but Merlin’s a bit sick of him being all condescending and threatening and it’s the quiet time of day so he doubts anyone will come in and see anything untoward happening. “You are a toad,” Merlin says with intent, and Aredian’s eyes widen before his clothes collapse into a pile.
“Did you--Merlin, did you just--?” Arthur’s voice is high, and he seems disinclined to move.
Merlin grins at him, and hopes that Arthur won’t run for the hills now that he’s seen actual magic without being strangled by a garden hose first. “Arthur? I’m afraid Camelot’s got a bit of a vermin problem.”
Aredian ribbits.
*
Once they’re finished celebrating with Gaius’s lethal cider and Freya has burst into tears all over Merlin and Morgana has complained that she got left out of the action and Arthur has stopped looking at Merlin like he’s going to go mad any moment and Gwaine has finished taking pictures of Aredian with a bowtie on, they mail him to Morgause.
In retrospect, it was not one of their better plans.
The first sign that something is amiss comes the next time Merlin comes into Camelot. Lance is at the counter chatting with Arthur (though he stops to stare a bit at Merlin, which he’s been doing ever since he had the magic explained to him), so he waves at both of them and goes about his shopping. A can of cocoa flags him down. “This is not the end,” the stylized dragon on it tells him. “It is the beginning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he hisses, glancing around. Nobody’s about other than Arthur and Lance, and they both know about him talking to dragons, but it’s always good to check.
“It will not be so easy to defeat the witch, especially now that you’ve angered her.”
“So how should we do it? I mean, I don’t want to murder her.”
“Young warlock, that is for you and the young Pendragon to decide. For your paths, as you have surely now discovered, have always been meant to twine …” The dragon sounds as if it’s enjoying itself far too much, and Merlin feels his ears turn red.
“Specifics. Specifics are good.”
“The specifics are not for polite company, young warlock.”
“Not that kind of specifics!” Merlin yells, and the quiet conversation at the register stops. He buries his face in his hands and quietly wishes for death.
“Merlin?” says Arthur a few seconds later. “What did the dragon just say to you?”
“It’s not being helpful,” he tells his hands. “And it has some really interesting ideas about you and me. No, I won’t elaborate.”
If he were up to looking at them, he suspects he would find Arthur and Lancelot eyebrow-telegraphing at near-light speed. Lance is the first one to break the silence. “Well, Gwen wants to try out something new for dinner tonight, so I’d better get back to The Castle. I’ll talk to you later, Arthur, Merlin. Morgana says to tell you she wants to talk to you about everything, by the way.”
“We’ll talk to her,” says Merlin, and manages a wave over his shoulder before the shop bell rings and silence descends again. It takes almost a full minute before Arthur huffs out a sigh and walks over to him. “Why couldn’t I have a useful dragon talk to me?” he asks, finally looking up.
Arthur is giving him an intense look that easily turns into a moment, and Merlin only breaks it because he can almost feel the dragon radiating smugness in his direction. “Could you--is there some sort of spell that would let me hear it as well?” Arthur asks when Merlin looks down.
Merlin blinks at him. “None that I know. But I can improvise a lot better than most other magicians I know, so I can try.” He closes his eyes, grabs Arthur’s hand, and waits until Arthur relaxes to wrap their fingers together and whisper a few words. And then a few more when the first set doesn’t work. “Dragon? Can you talk to Arthur?” he says after a third set finally feels right.
“Ah, young Pendragon. I have hoped that the warlock would allow us to speak.” Merlin opens his eyes when Arthur jumps and grips his hand so hard it hurts. “For he cannot save Camelot alone, and neither can you. You are two halves of the same whole.”
Arthur turns and gives Merlin an incredulous look and then turns back. “Like, soul mates?”
“If you will. It only matters that your destinies are entwined.” Merlin’s pretty sure that if this drawing had eyelids it would wink at them. Arthur’s expression means the dragon’s tone hasn’t got past him, but he doesn’t remove his hand from Merlin’s. “Once you have defeated the witch and removed the threat of Avalon from your horizons, you can fulfill your destiny.”
“Which is?”
“Really, son of Uther, I thought I’d made that quite obvious.”
Merlin wrenches his hand out of Arthur’s. “Well,” he says as brightly as he can manage. “You two catch up on things, I’m just going to run up to The Castle.”
“You haven’t finished your shopping,” Arthur points out, smile going just a bit predatory. Merlin swallows. “I’d hate to chase you out.”
“I’m not chased. I just figure you two might want to chat about this without me around. Or something.” He knows he’s turning a horrible shade of magenta, and Arthur seems torn between smirking and looking worried. “I’ll stop by again on my way out of town,” he promises, and flees.
*
The Castle, because that’s the way his luck goes, is in an uproar when Merlin arrives. Lancelot is looking terrified and Morgana is in the midst of a rant that mostly consists of “how dare she?”, so Merlin goes to Gwen the second he gets in the kitchen. “What’s happened? Is it Morgause? Or has Katrina’s meat supply come rotten again? You need a new source there.”
“It’s Morgause,” says Gwen, glaring at the sauce she’s making like it’s personally offended her. “Called Morgana shrieking about betrayal and promising revenge.”
“Any specific sort of revenge?” he asks, hoping she’s told Morgana if she intends to storm into Albion today or something. Morgause, from what they’ve picked up on Gaius’s grapevine, is powerful enough to make Merlin very nervous.
“I doubt she would tell us, unless she wanted us to do something,” says Morgana, interrupting her rant. “But whatever she’s doing, she’ll have to do it soon, before Avalon opens up. We need to call everyone.”
“I’ll call Arthur,” Merlin says without thinking, and turns red again when all three of them pause to look at him. “Shut up. The other three are just at the house today, except for trips out to the field. We can call them on the way.”
“The pair of you, honestly,” Gwen murmurs, turning the heat down on her sauce. “If this mess with Morgause isn’t fixed soon, Morgana, we’re going to need another chef.”
Lancelot shakes his head. “I’ll take care of the kitchen tonight, and as much as you need me to. I don’t think I’ll be much help in these meetings.”
“I’m not either, to be honest,” says Gwen with a half-smile.
Morgana stops pacing and fixes her girlfriend with an intense look that reminds Merlin uncomfortably of Arthur. “You are a great deal of help. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you.” Gwen smiles at her properly, the first of her old sunny smiles he’s seen directed at Morgana since they started fighting.
Merlin decides that’s a private moment and turns away to call Arthur. He picks up on the second ring. “Well, Merlin, your dragon and I have been having a very interesting conversation,” he says.
Merlin is only too glad to have an excuse to change the subject. “We need you at The Castle. Morgause called Morgana.”
“Shit. Is she okay? Are you okay? I can’t exactly leave the store unless one of you tells my father I’m ill, and then he’ll insist I go see Alice because I’ve kept the store open when I had the flu.”
“You really need someone else to take a shift once in a while,” Merlin informs him. Arthur just sighs across the line. “I’m fine. Morgana’s not quite as fine, but Gwen is taking care of her.”
“I’ll come out to the farm after closing tonight, okay? Call me if Morgause shows up or calls again or anything and I’ll figure something out with my father.” There’s a moment (which Merlin suspects would be a moment if they could actually see each other) where neither of them hangs up the phone. “We will be talking about some of the things the dragon said, Merlin,” Arthur adds at last.
Merlin swallows. “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yes, you will,” says Arthur, and hangs up before things can get even more awkward.
When Merlin turns around, Gwen and Morgana are hugging, but Gwen is also winking at Merlin over her girlfriend’s shoulder. He clears his throat. “He can’t come just yet, but he says he will when the store’s closed. We should probably get out to the farm, though. Just in case.”
“Will it make much difference?” Gwen gives her sauce a sideways glance. “If we’re there or here? Because I’ve been missing a lot of work …”
He thinks about it for a minute. On one hand, it feels like the news that there’s a crazy CEO/sorceress out to get them should cause them to have meetings and make plans and possibly figure out to defeat her without killing her. On the other, chances are Morgause won’t come for them right this instant, and he’s been falling behind on work at the farm anyway. “I guess not,” he says at last, because for some reason they’re all thinking about it. “If she really wants to find us, she’ll find us. And it might be best if we’re not all in the same place when she does, anyway.” Morgana’s face goes tight, and he winces in apology.
“We can call each other frequently,” Lance contributes. “And make sure that we’re not alone as much as possible.”
“Right,” says Morgana, and straightens up, although she leaves an arm around Gwen’s waist. “I’ve got a meeting with Uther that I’ve been putting off, in that case, about whether we ought to make a deal with Percival and his hiking business.” She gives Gwen a peck on the cheek that would be hesitant if she weren’t Morgana. “Talk to you later, love. And you, Merlin. We really do need to chat about magic in general soon.”
He waves in acknowledgment as she breezes out, then turns to Lancelot. “Does she ever stop being terrifying?”
“No,” says Gwen, sounding more cheerful than she has in weeks despite the fact that they have an evil sorceress to defeat. “Not even when you’re sleeping with her.”
“Well, it’s not like that option was available to us anyway,” Lancelot points out. “Merlin, do you want to stick around and wash some dishes or wait tables or something? Tonight’s duck is bound to be delicious.”
“I’d love to, but meeting or not, I’ve been spending too little time at the farm lately. Gwaine and Freya help a great deal, but I still want to be there.” He grimaces. “And Gaius actually sent me to town to do a bit of shopping, in the first place, so I’ve got to go back to Camelot.”
Gwen smiles, wide and bright, and Lancelot gives him an assessing look that makes Merlin want to squirm. At least Morgana’s gone, he’d hate to see her reaction. “Go on, then,” says Gwen after the silence gets uncomfortable. “I’ll save you a serving and you can have it for lunch tomorrow.”
“You’re an angel, and you’re getting extra beets,” says Merlin, and gives them his best grin.
Five minutes later, he walks back into Camelot and Arthur blinks at him from where he’s having an intense, low-voiced conversation with a box of cereal. “You’re back. Is something the matter?”
“We decided maybe we didn’t need a meeting after all. And I still have my shopping to do.” Merlin digs the list Gaius gave him out of his pocket and waves it around a bit in explanation. “I sort of ran out without doing it earlier.”
Arthur takes a few steps towards him; the dragon remains conspicuously silent. “Merlin, if you--we don’t have to, if it’s just because my groceries are telling us we’re soul mates, but if you’d like to--”
The shop bell gives its little tinkly greeting, and Merlin, dazed, spins around to see who’s interrupting and if he can justifiably tell them to sod off, because he has a sort of urgent need to snog Arthur right now. Instead, he finds himself staring at Morgause, terrifying in a business suit and a great deal of eyeliner, followed by a smirking man with shaggy dark hair. She waves a hand casually and the lock on the door clicks home. “Well,” she says mildly, smiling. “Just the two people I most wanted to see. I wouldn’t try the phone if I were you, Mr. Pendragon. It won’t work.”
*
Arthur starts forward, and Merlin holds out his hand, never looking away from Morgause. He’s always been rubbish at telling who has magic (case in point: Morgana), but she practically reeks of power, and he doesn’t want to chance Arthur with her. Plus, he’s supposed to stay in frequent contact with the others. If they can keep Morgause talking long enough, things might just be okay. However, he has no way of reminding Arthur of that, and Arthur seems inclined to do something dangerous.
Dragon, he thinks furiously, now would be a good time to make yourself useful and pass a message on, if Morgause can’t hear you.
“Now is not the time to act rashly, young Pendragon,” says the dragon, right on cue, and Morgause doesn’t even blink, just keeps smiling at them, so Merlin figures that at least is useful.
“Look,” says Merlin, as conciliatory as he can manage, “perhaps it wasn’t fair of me to turn Aredian into a toad. I apologize for that. But isn’t this a bit of a bad idea? Do you plan to kill us or something?”
“Of course I don’t plan to kill you, Merlin. What would be the use in that?”
Arthur steps forward until Merlin can almost feel his body heat. “So what do you plan to do?”
“We just want to have a reasonable chat,” says her thug. “That’s all. I’m Cenred, and I’ll be staying in the area to oversee the Mercia store, so we really all ought to be friendly.”
Merlin doesn’t dare turn round, but he can tell that Arthur is crossing his arms and leveling his most unimpressed look at the intruders. “I imagine that your version of friendly is telling me to back off so you won’t have to deal with competition. Are you afraid we’d win?”
“Arthur,” Merlin whispers. “This is an epic battle, not a pissing contest.”
“We can work together. Merlin, you have power. Avalon is always more than willing to employ bright young things like you.” He thinks that’s rich, coming from a woman perhaps five years his senior, but he makes a point of not mentioning it. “We do far more than just sell groceries or grow vegetables. You could learn a great deal.” Her gaze flicks to Arthur. “Of course, Mr. Pendragon, you can keep your shop, though I would recommend working with us rather than against us. Aredian is not the worst I could send you.”
“This is all highly illegal, you know,” Arthur points out, finally impatient enough to try to shove Merlin to the side. Merlin refuses to go. “Merlin, for pity’s sake, you may be bloody Harry Potter but that doesn’t mean you’re immortal.”
Morgause raises her eyebrows. Merlin thinks he might like her more if she didn’t just stand there and look patient and reasonable while her thug smirks at them. “This is what you put up with around here, Merlin? Aredian said you were the most powerful warlock he’s run across in years, and you’re taking orders from a grocer? And Gaius?” She smiles, a bit pitying. “It’s as if you want to be a farmer forever.”
Merlin considers that for a few seconds, distracted enough to let Arthur manhandle him so they’re at least standing next to each other again, and thinks about being a kid, telling Will and his mother how he wanted to use magic to go into space and rescue damsels. Arthur gives him a look that he will undoubtedly pretend later wasn’t anxious and shifts his grip on the broom he somehow managed to pick up, and Merlin decides he doesn’t need to rescue damsels to be good. “Actually, I quite like being a farmer.”
Gaius will notice how long he’s been gone soon, and call him. Or Gwen will call Gaius and ask if he’s there yet, or Uther will call Arthur. They only have to keep Morgause here a bit longer and then they’ll … do something. That might be a flaw in his otherwise flawless plan.
“You can’t be serious,” says Cenred, and gives a pointed look around Camelot. “You actually want to stay here?”
“Right, that’s enough,” snaps Arthur, and lunges with his broom--in Cenred’s direction, luckily. Cenred doesn’t have magic of his own, from what they’ve found out, so at least Arthur is unlikely to get set on fire from that direction.
“End it!” shouts the dragon.
“Yes, all right, I’m trying,” Merlin says, and starts magically pelting Morgause with whatever products are on the shelves. She fends most of them off as easily as swatting flies and sends a bolt of pure energy his way. Merlin responds in kind, keeping one eye on Arthur and Cenred who have resorted to fisticuffs (the broom is in splinters on the floor, which might have been the fault of a flying jar of pickles, considering the amount of broken glass and brine on the floor).
It doesn’t take long for Morgause to figure out that hurting Arthur is going to hurt Merlin, and that he’s far less able to defend himself from her magic. Arthur yells and accidentally knees Cenred in the crotch when she turns at the last second and throws a bolt at him instead of Merlin, but miraculously dodges the worst of it. Morgause gets ready to send another, and Merlin loses his temper.
One of the first things Gaius taught Merlin was meditation, because half the reason Merlin went to him in the first place was because he had a bit of a tendency to make things explode when people pissed him off. This time, he blasts Morgause off her feet with a jet of flame that he stops before it melts anything in Arthur’s shop. Her suit smolders and she looks shaken for the first time, but she shouts a few words and Arthur starts clawing at his throat like he’s being choked.
“That is outside of enough,” says Merlin, and the dragon is shouting at him but he doesn’t particularly care, and he calls a length of hose out and ties Cenred up with it so there’s one less thing to worry about, which distracts Morgause just enough to let Arthur breathe, and then calls up so much energy he’s almost blind with it and lets it loose.
Morgause shrieks, and sends something back at him, knocking him off his feet and back into a wall, where he hits his head. Arthur yells something and then there’s a dull thunk, and Merlin pries his eyes open in time to see three or four Morgauses crumple to the ground while three or four Arthurs brandish the remainder of the broom handle above her. A few seconds later, when she shows no signs of moving, Arthur sprints across the store and drops to his knees next to Merlin, wincing. “Shit, Merlin, are you okay? What the hell was that? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Considering both of his hands are on Merlin’s shoulders, Merlin decides that’s a trick question. “You have to hold fingers up first, Arthur,” he says patiently. “Do you think maybe you could call 999?”
“Right, right,” says Arthur, sounding more than a bit panicked, and levers himself to his feet again. “Just stay awake, yeah? You’ve probably got a concussion, and--”
“Mmm,” says Merlin agreeably, and passes out to the sound of the glass door breaking and Officer Leon and their friends bursting through it.
*
They don’t get around to celebrating till the next night. First they have to explain everything to Officer Leon, and then several other police officers, and by “explain everything” Merlin of course means “lie through their teeth.” Merlin, through his concussion, sitting in Alice’s examination room with a blanket around his shoulders in case he’s in shock, puts on his most guileless expression and explains that Morgause and Cenred came in and started threatening them and then attacked them. No, he doesn’t know why it looks like Morgause got set on fire. Yes, it’s very amazing that Arthur managed to incapacitate Cenred long enough to tie him up that tight. He doesn’t quite remember how he got concussed, but he’s quite sure Morgause was the one who did it.
Morgause and Cenred both try to claim that they were the ones being attacked, but no one seems inclined to listen to them and an out-of-town police officer takes Arthur aside and actually thanks him, as apparently they’ve been looking for an excuse to investigate them for ages. (Merlin doesn’t find that bit out for a few days, since he’s busy being scolded by Alice and Gaius at the time, in between fighting down nausea and trying to work out how many of each person is around.)
Morgana, it turns out, is the one who realized that something was wrong, and the one who insisted that Officer Leon come to Camelot with them. She claims, when Uther and the police ask, that it was because Arthur was meant to call her when Merlin got to Camelot because she’d forgotten to tell him something. With the rest of them, she smirks and beams at Gwen because apparently they’ve worked things out properly at last.
They all end up out at the farm the next night. Merlin, on strict orders to do nothing strenuous, lays with his head on Arthur’s lap on the porch while everyone else gets giddy with success and cider. Gaius and Alice are giggling on the other side of the porch, Lance sitting near and expounding about how he wants to go to France next summer and do another cooking apprenticeship. Gwen and Morgana drift between groups, never letting go of each other’s hands and smiling at each other more than they manage to chat with anyone else. Gwaine grabs Freya’s hand and drags her out for a drunken approximation of a jig, and Freya actually laughs and dances along with him and conjures a daisy to hand to him when it’s over.
Arthur just sits and strokes his hand gingerly through Merlin’s hair. “My father,” he says at last, “is thinking of hiring Elena on part-time at the store. You know, Godwyn’s daughter? Says I’m working too much.”
“You do work too much,” says Merlin, comfortable and half-ready to drop off to sleep.
“Well, it looks as if I’ll have a bit more free time on my hands. So if sometime you’d like to go to a restaurant that isn’t The Castle, I would definitely be more than willing.”
Merlin smiles up at him. “Arthur, are you asking me on a date? You’re my destiny, you know. Other side of my coin. It’s sort of a forgone conclusion.”
Arthur scowls back. “No, actually, it’s not. I want you to go out with me because you want to, not because some barmy dragon on a can of peas told you it was meant to be.”
If he were feeling a bit less content, Merlin might think about smacking Arthur, who’s honestly got to be the thickest person he knows sometimes. And he knows Will. But he is content, and generous with it, and Morgana’s here to make sure Arthur’s ego doesn’t swell all the way to Neptune, so he feels okay with smiling and snuggling a bit closer and saying “I want to. Have wanted to. Honestly.”
Arthur attempts to turn a beam into a smirk and fails miserably. “Thought so.”
“Insufferable ass.”
“But you love me.”
Merlin ponders that. “If I agree, will you blame it on the concussion and let me pretend that I don’t remember it in the morning?”
Arthur just catches his eye and smiles, fond, and Merlin lets it turn into a moment and lets that stretch out while Gaius talks about visiting Marseilles and Morgana says something low and tucks Gwen’s hair behind her ear and Gwaine calls Freya “fair lady” and she giggles and yeah, okay, maybe everything the dragon says isn’t total bollocks after all.
Part Two
Merlin stays out at the farm after that, and continues letting Gwaine get the groceries. Aredian still hasn’t left, and Arthur has taken to texting Merlin more and more frequently as two more days go by.
Is the frog-coughing offer still on the table? he sends during breakfast, and Merlin chokes on his toast, which makes Gwaine smirk and Freya look alarmed.
Thus far I can turn him into a frog, but not make him cough them. Working on it, though, he replies, and that starts off all sorts of dreadful suggestions of tortures for Aredian. Gwaine joins in when Merlin is finally forced to explain what he’s grinning about, and when Freya realizes they’re talking about Aredian, she joins in, although her suggestions are sometimes a bit terrifying.
A. keeps having accidents and being remarkably clumsy. Your fault? comes the next morning.
Merlin has to think about that for a few minutes, because he’s certainly been known to do accidental magic before, especially on people he dislikes, but he can’t feel his power anywhere it shouldn’t be. Then he asks Freya, who bites her lip and shakes her head and says she still isn’t ready to use her magic again. He asks Gaius as well, just for the sake of completeness, and only gets a disdainful raise of eyebrows in response.
No. Maybe he’s hungover he replies eventually.
And he would even almost believe it--except Arthur keeps texting. To say Aredian tripped over nothing. To say he keeps misplacing papers, or that he set his sleeve on fire trying to light a cigarette, or that he looks more alarmed every time it happens. Merlin wonders at first if the dragon figured out some way of doing something, because he knows it’s not him doing it, but figures if the dragon were more powerful it would not manifest itself on groceries.
A. insulted Morgana and his car blew up, Arthur texts that night.
Merlin texts back as fast as he can type. Bring her here. Now. And Gwen. “Gaius,” he yells. “We’ve got a problem!”
By the time Arthur arrives, Gaius has finished shouting at Merlin for recklessly revealing secrets, Freya has retreated to her room, and Gwaine is demanding to know what the hell they’re all talking around. He softens when they come through the door, at least. Arthur’s expression is surprisingly neutral, but Morgana is wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf. Gwen is holding her arm and looking worried. “What’s going on?” she asks, sitting Morgana down at Gaius’s kitchen table. “Arthur just dragged her into the kitchen while Lancelot and I were doing the last few dinner orders and said we were leaving.”
“Morgana, do you know what happened?” Merlin asks.
“I--” She looks between all of them and predictably enough settles on looking at Gwen. “Should I be worried? None of you is pleased with me right now.”
“We haven’t dragged you here to kill you and leave you to fertilize the potato beds,” says Arthur.
“I doubt you’re organically certified,” Merlin adds, and everyone else glares at the two of them for derailing the conversation. “Sorry. But do you have any idea what happened?”
“I was talking with Aredian, and I felt a little odd, that’s all.” She raises her chin, daring any of them to contradict her.
“And then his car blew up,” Arthur contributes.
Gwen and Gwaine blink in unison, but Morgana’s gone pale, so Merlin’s pretty sure she understands what might be going on. “But I didn’t--I couldn’t--”
It’s rare but not unheard of for people to discover they have magic when they’re older, especially when their talents aren’t quite as flashy as Merlin’s can be. Morgana’s always been quick to guess what other people are thinking or telling when something’s going to go wrong, but she doesn’t seem prone to blowing things up. Other than Aredian’s car, and Merlin really can’t blame her there. “You probably did,” he says as gently as he can. “It seems you’ve got magic.”
It’s surprisingly easy to convince Morgana. She’s shaken, and worried, but Merlin knows how it feels to suddenly have everything odd about your life explained. Gwen takes it well, too. “I always knew there was something different about her,” she says quietly when Merlin checks to make sure she’s okay. “This is--this is weird, especially knowing you and Gaius, but … it makes sense.”
Gwaine, though, is unusually quiet through the explanations and the demonstrations, and he excuses himself before Merlin can take him aside and apologize for springing it on him. When he goes upstairs, he goes in the direction of Freya’s room and not his own, and Merlin spares a second to hope that doesn’t go horribly awry.
“So what’s this got to do with Aredian?” Morgana asks finally into the awkward silence that follows Gwaine’s departure.
Gaius is the one who answers. “He can sense magic, and he likes to hurt those with it. He probably knew about yours before you knew about it. It’s why he’s stayed in Albion so long, most likely.” He pauses. “And it’s likely he’s reporting to Morgause.”
Morgana freezes. “What do you mean?”
“She’s got magic too. Freya told us. She and some others at Avalon, they use it to do some pretty awful things in business, and they sort of … convince reluctant people to join them. They’ve found a relatively large group of us, here, which is probably why Aredian’s stayed so long.” Merlin wonders how much of Freya’s story to betray. “They aren’t always nice about it,” he settles on at last, and Arthur gives him a sharp look and shifts closer to him.
Now Morgana looks really shaken, and Gwen’s mouth is pressed tightly closed again, but she doesn’t pull away when Morgana puts a hand over hers on the table. “Surely Morgause wouldn’t--we’re friends,” she says at last. “She never asked me anything about Albion or Camelot.”
“I’m sorry,” says Merlin, and shrugs helplessly. Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder and Merlin leans into the touch as much as he dares. “It’s not just Camelot, though. I mean, sure, she’d love to shut it down, and that was what the mouse and Val were there for, but then Val got word to her somehow about the magic, I’m guessing, and now she wants … us.” Arthur’s grip tightens, and Merlin gives his best reassuring look while he waits for someone else to say something.
“So if she means to do this to us,” Morgana says at last in a flat tone, and Gwen turns her hand over to squeeze her fingers, “then what do we do about it?”
Gaius opens his mouth to say something, probably about being prudent, but Arthur beats him to it. “We call Gwaine and Freya back downstairs. All of us have to be in on this.”
“And then?” says Gwen.
“And then we come up with a plan,” says Arthur, and smiles.
*
The plan, after scrapping back and forth (mostly between Morgana and Arthur), turns out to be researching records to get Aredian, Morgause, and anyone working with them arrested, and it doesn’t work well. Gaius and Freya go to the local records office, and Morgana gets on the internet, but none of them turn anything up at all. On top of that, Gwaine and Gwen between them manage to spill to whole business to Lancelot because apparently neither of them can keep a secret, and Merlin is feeling increasingly like the whole of Albion is going to know about magic and the Avalon problem before it’s solved.
Of course, all of that is minor setbacks compared to the fact that Aredian walks into Camelot while Merlin is in the midst of having a shouting row with a box of cereal. “Seriously, you’ve got to give me specifics if you expect me to save the day heroically!” he yells, and someone coughs behind him.
It is not, he discovers a horrified moment later, Arthur, who is standing at the till with his mouth open. Merlin managed to spill the whole business about the dragons to the group after muttering about destiny one time too many, so he didn’t ask Merlin too many questions when Merlin entered his shop and immediately started interrogating his inventory. Instead, there’s Aredian with a supercilious smile on his face. “Young man, are you quite all right?”
“I’m … practicing lines. Albion’s trying to get a bit of community theater going. And I’m practicing for my audition. But Arthur won’t practice with me. So I’m practicing with … this …”
“Cartoon dragon, yes,” says Aredian.
“Our Merlin’s a bit odd,” says Arthur, aiming for jovial and landing somewhere around panicked.
Aredian just smiles, thin and pleased. “Gentlemen, we’re alone, and perhaps it’s time to lay all of our cards on the table.”
Merlin shifts around, trying to get himself between Arthur and Aredian. He’s somewhat hampered by the fact that Arthur seems to have the same idea, coming out from behind the counter. “Cards? What cards?” says Merlin, edging away from the cereal aisle, since the dragons don’t seem to feel like being helpful. “This is a card-free establishment.”
Arthur sighs. “Merlin, you are not helping.”
“I will not find an error here,” says Aredian like they haven’t even said anything. He turns while Merlin skirts around him, but seems more amused by the protective effort than anything else. “It would be better if I did. Dealing with me is far preferable to dealing with Morgause.”
“We don’t respond to intimidation around here, thanks,” says Arthur.
“She knows how much magic there is in this town,” Aredian announces casually, and Merlin manages to get between them, although Arthur immediately grabs Merlin’s arm and shoves him to the side until they’re standing next to each other. “If you’d allow yourself to be shut down just temporarily, I’m sure she’d be less likely to … make her interest known.”
Merlin snorts, and winces when Arthur elbows him for it. “I’m not really inclined to believe you there.”
“Believe it or don’t, but you won’t like the consequences if you continue to be stubborn.”
“He sounds like a panto villain,” says Merlin in a stage whisper, because he’ll feel far less guilty for making Aredian cough frogs if he’s actually attacked first.
“You will agree to being cited for a hidden vermin infestation and close Camelot while it’s fixed. You will not reopen until after Avalon has opened its doors next month. If you don’t agree to these terms, I will be forced to tell Morgause you were uncooperative.”
Merlin takes a second to think that Gaius will be disappointed, and Freya and Morgana will both be upset that he didn’t let them help, but he really doesn’t have the patience to deal with Aredian’s threats and general being an arse. “I could kill you and make it look like a heart attack, you know,” he says conversationally, even though he would never actually do it. Arthur’s alarmed look isn’t comforting, though.
“Morgause would see to it that you were prosecuted,” Aredian says coolly.
“She’s using you just like she wants to use Mer--my friends,” says Arthur, shouldering Merlin behind him again. “Or do you just enjoy ruining people’s lives so much that you don’t care?”
Aredian opens his mouth, but Merlin’s a bit sick of him being all condescending and threatening and it’s the quiet time of day so he doubts anyone will come in and see anything untoward happening. “You are a toad,” Merlin says with intent, and Aredian’s eyes widen before his clothes collapse into a pile.
“Did you--Merlin, did you just--?” Arthur’s voice is high, and he seems disinclined to move.
Merlin grins at him, and hopes that Arthur won’t run for the hills now that he’s seen actual magic without being strangled by a garden hose first. “Arthur? I’m afraid Camelot’s got a bit of a vermin problem.”
Aredian ribbits.
*
Once they’re finished celebrating with Gaius’s lethal cider and Freya has burst into tears all over Merlin and Morgana has complained that she got left out of the action and Arthur has stopped looking at Merlin like he’s going to go mad any moment and Gwaine has finished taking pictures of Aredian with a bowtie on, they mail him to Morgause.
In retrospect, it was not one of their better plans.
The first sign that something is amiss comes the next time Merlin comes into Camelot. Lance is at the counter chatting with Arthur (though he stops to stare a bit at Merlin, which he’s been doing ever since he had the magic explained to him), so he waves at both of them and goes about his shopping. A can of cocoa flags him down. “This is not the end,” the stylized dragon on it tells him. “It is the beginning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he hisses, glancing around. Nobody’s about other than Arthur and Lance, and they both know about him talking to dragons, but it’s always good to check.
“It will not be so easy to defeat the witch, especially now that you’ve angered her.”
“So how should we do it? I mean, I don’t want to murder her.”
“Young warlock, that is for you and the young Pendragon to decide. For your paths, as you have surely now discovered, have always been meant to twine …” The dragon sounds as if it’s enjoying itself far too much, and Merlin feels his ears turn red.
“Specifics. Specifics are good.”
“The specifics are not for polite company, young warlock.”
“Not that kind of specifics!” Merlin yells, and the quiet conversation at the register stops. He buries his face in his hands and quietly wishes for death.
“Merlin?” says Arthur a few seconds later. “What did the dragon just say to you?”
“It’s not being helpful,” he tells his hands. “And it has some really interesting ideas about you and me. No, I won’t elaborate.”
If he were up to looking at them, he suspects he would find Arthur and Lancelot eyebrow-telegraphing at near-light speed. Lance is the first one to break the silence. “Well, Gwen wants to try out something new for dinner tonight, so I’d better get back to The Castle. I’ll talk to you later, Arthur, Merlin. Morgana says to tell you she wants to talk to you about everything, by the way.”
“We’ll talk to her,” says Merlin, and manages a wave over his shoulder before the shop bell rings and silence descends again. It takes almost a full minute before Arthur huffs out a sigh and walks over to him. “Why couldn’t I have a useful dragon talk to me?” he asks, finally looking up.
Arthur is giving him an intense look that easily turns into a moment, and Merlin only breaks it because he can almost feel the dragon radiating smugness in his direction. “Could you--is there some sort of spell that would let me hear it as well?” Arthur asks when Merlin looks down.
Merlin blinks at him. “None that I know. But I can improvise a lot better than most other magicians I know, so I can try.” He closes his eyes, grabs Arthur’s hand, and waits until Arthur relaxes to wrap their fingers together and whisper a few words. And then a few more when the first set doesn’t work. “Dragon? Can you talk to Arthur?” he says after a third set finally feels right.
“Ah, young Pendragon. I have hoped that the warlock would allow us to speak.” Merlin opens his eyes when Arthur jumps and grips his hand so hard it hurts. “For he cannot save Camelot alone, and neither can you. You are two halves of the same whole.”
Arthur turns and gives Merlin an incredulous look and then turns back. “Like, soul mates?”
“If you will. It only matters that your destinies are entwined.” Merlin’s pretty sure that if this drawing had eyelids it would wink at them. Arthur’s expression means the dragon’s tone hasn’t got past him, but he doesn’t remove his hand from Merlin’s. “Once you have defeated the witch and removed the threat of Avalon from your horizons, you can fulfill your destiny.”
“Which is?”
“Really, son of Uther, I thought I’d made that quite obvious.”
Merlin wrenches his hand out of Arthur’s. “Well,” he says as brightly as he can manage. “You two catch up on things, I’m just going to run up to The Castle.”
“You haven’t finished your shopping,” Arthur points out, smile going just a bit predatory. Merlin swallows. “I’d hate to chase you out.”
“I’m not chased. I just figure you two might want to chat about this without me around. Or something.” He knows he’s turning a horrible shade of magenta, and Arthur seems torn between smirking and looking worried. “I’ll stop by again on my way out of town,” he promises, and flees.
*
The Castle, because that’s the way his luck goes, is in an uproar when Merlin arrives. Lancelot is looking terrified and Morgana is in the midst of a rant that mostly consists of “how dare she?”, so Merlin goes to Gwen the second he gets in the kitchen. “What’s happened? Is it Morgause? Or has Katrina’s meat supply come rotten again? You need a new source there.”
“It’s Morgause,” says Gwen, glaring at the sauce she’s making like it’s personally offended her. “Called Morgana shrieking about betrayal and promising revenge.”
“Any specific sort of revenge?” he asks, hoping she’s told Morgana if she intends to storm into Albion today or something. Morgause, from what they’ve picked up on Gaius’s grapevine, is powerful enough to make Merlin very nervous.
“I doubt she would tell us, unless she wanted us to do something,” says Morgana, interrupting her rant. “But whatever she’s doing, she’ll have to do it soon, before Avalon opens up. We need to call everyone.”
“I’ll call Arthur,” Merlin says without thinking, and turns red again when all three of them pause to look at him. “Shut up. The other three are just at the house today, except for trips out to the field. We can call them on the way.”
“The pair of you, honestly,” Gwen murmurs, turning the heat down on her sauce. “If this mess with Morgause isn’t fixed soon, Morgana, we’re going to need another chef.”
Lancelot shakes his head. “I’ll take care of the kitchen tonight, and as much as you need me to. I don’t think I’ll be much help in these meetings.”
“I’m not either, to be honest,” says Gwen with a half-smile.
Morgana stops pacing and fixes her girlfriend with an intense look that reminds Merlin uncomfortably of Arthur. “You are a great deal of help. I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you.” Gwen smiles at her properly, the first of her old sunny smiles he’s seen directed at Morgana since they started fighting.
Merlin decides that’s a private moment and turns away to call Arthur. He picks up on the second ring. “Well, Merlin, your dragon and I have been having a very interesting conversation,” he says.
Merlin is only too glad to have an excuse to change the subject. “We need you at The Castle. Morgause called Morgana.”
“Shit. Is she okay? Are you okay? I can’t exactly leave the store unless one of you tells my father I’m ill, and then he’ll insist I go see Alice because I’ve kept the store open when I had the flu.”
“You really need someone else to take a shift once in a while,” Merlin informs him. Arthur just sighs across the line. “I’m fine. Morgana’s not quite as fine, but Gwen is taking care of her.”
“I’ll come out to the farm after closing tonight, okay? Call me if Morgause shows up or calls again or anything and I’ll figure something out with my father.” There’s a moment (which Merlin suspects would be a moment if they could actually see each other) where neither of them hangs up the phone. “We will be talking about some of the things the dragon said, Merlin,” Arthur adds at last.
Merlin swallows. “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yes, you will,” says Arthur, and hangs up before things can get even more awkward.
When Merlin turns around, Gwen and Morgana are hugging, but Gwen is also winking at Merlin over her girlfriend’s shoulder. He clears his throat. “He can’t come just yet, but he says he will when the store’s closed. We should probably get out to the farm, though. Just in case.”
“Will it make much difference?” Gwen gives her sauce a sideways glance. “If we’re there or here? Because I’ve been missing a lot of work …”
He thinks about it for a minute. On one hand, it feels like the news that there’s a crazy CEO/sorceress out to get them should cause them to have meetings and make plans and possibly figure out to defeat her without killing her. On the other, chances are Morgause won’t come for them right this instant, and he’s been falling behind on work at the farm anyway. “I guess not,” he says at last, because for some reason they’re all thinking about it. “If she really wants to find us, she’ll find us. And it might be best if we’re not all in the same place when she does, anyway.” Morgana’s face goes tight, and he winces in apology.
“We can call each other frequently,” Lance contributes. “And make sure that we’re not alone as much as possible.”
“Right,” says Morgana, and straightens up, although she leaves an arm around Gwen’s waist. “I’ve got a meeting with Uther that I’ve been putting off, in that case, about whether we ought to make a deal with Percival and his hiking business.” She gives Gwen a peck on the cheek that would be hesitant if she weren’t Morgana. “Talk to you later, love. And you, Merlin. We really do need to chat about magic in general soon.”
He waves in acknowledgment as she breezes out, then turns to Lancelot. “Does she ever stop being terrifying?”
“No,” says Gwen, sounding more cheerful than she has in weeks despite the fact that they have an evil sorceress to defeat. “Not even when you’re sleeping with her.”
“Well, it’s not like that option was available to us anyway,” Lancelot points out. “Merlin, do you want to stick around and wash some dishes or wait tables or something? Tonight’s duck is bound to be delicious.”
“I’d love to, but meeting or not, I’ve been spending too little time at the farm lately. Gwaine and Freya help a great deal, but I still want to be there.” He grimaces. “And Gaius actually sent me to town to do a bit of shopping, in the first place, so I’ve got to go back to Camelot.”
Gwen smiles, wide and bright, and Lancelot gives him an assessing look that makes Merlin want to squirm. At least Morgana’s gone, he’d hate to see her reaction. “Go on, then,” says Gwen after the silence gets uncomfortable. “I’ll save you a serving and you can have it for lunch tomorrow.”
“You’re an angel, and you’re getting extra beets,” says Merlin, and gives them his best grin.
Five minutes later, he walks back into Camelot and Arthur blinks at him from where he’s having an intense, low-voiced conversation with a box of cereal. “You’re back. Is something the matter?”
“We decided maybe we didn’t need a meeting after all. And I still have my shopping to do.” Merlin digs the list Gaius gave him out of his pocket and waves it around a bit in explanation. “I sort of ran out without doing it earlier.”
Arthur takes a few steps towards him; the dragon remains conspicuously silent. “Merlin, if you--we don’t have to, if it’s just because my groceries are telling us we’re soul mates, but if you’d like to--”
The shop bell gives its little tinkly greeting, and Merlin, dazed, spins around to see who’s interrupting and if he can justifiably tell them to sod off, because he has a sort of urgent need to snog Arthur right now. Instead, he finds himself staring at Morgause, terrifying in a business suit and a great deal of eyeliner, followed by a smirking man with shaggy dark hair. She waves a hand casually and the lock on the door clicks home. “Well,” she says mildly, smiling. “Just the two people I most wanted to see. I wouldn’t try the phone if I were you, Mr. Pendragon. It won’t work.”
*
Arthur starts forward, and Merlin holds out his hand, never looking away from Morgause. He’s always been rubbish at telling who has magic (case in point: Morgana), but she practically reeks of power, and he doesn’t want to chance Arthur with her. Plus, he’s supposed to stay in frequent contact with the others. If they can keep Morgause talking long enough, things might just be okay. However, he has no way of reminding Arthur of that, and Arthur seems inclined to do something dangerous.
Dragon, he thinks furiously, now would be a good time to make yourself useful and pass a message on, if Morgause can’t hear you.
“Now is not the time to act rashly, young Pendragon,” says the dragon, right on cue, and Morgause doesn’t even blink, just keeps smiling at them, so Merlin figures that at least is useful.
“Look,” says Merlin, as conciliatory as he can manage, “perhaps it wasn’t fair of me to turn Aredian into a toad. I apologize for that. But isn’t this a bit of a bad idea? Do you plan to kill us or something?”
“Of course I don’t plan to kill you, Merlin. What would be the use in that?”
Arthur steps forward until Merlin can almost feel his body heat. “So what do you plan to do?”
“We just want to have a reasonable chat,” says her thug. “That’s all. I’m Cenred, and I’ll be staying in the area to oversee the Mercia store, so we really all ought to be friendly.”
Merlin doesn’t dare turn round, but he can tell that Arthur is crossing his arms and leveling his most unimpressed look at the intruders. “I imagine that your version of friendly is telling me to back off so you won’t have to deal with competition. Are you afraid we’d win?”
“Arthur,” Merlin whispers. “This is an epic battle, not a pissing contest.”
“We can work together. Merlin, you have power. Avalon is always more than willing to employ bright young things like you.” He thinks that’s rich, coming from a woman perhaps five years his senior, but he makes a point of not mentioning it. “We do far more than just sell groceries or grow vegetables. You could learn a great deal.” Her gaze flicks to Arthur. “Of course, Mr. Pendragon, you can keep your shop, though I would recommend working with us rather than against us. Aredian is not the worst I could send you.”
“This is all highly illegal, you know,” Arthur points out, finally impatient enough to try to shove Merlin to the side. Merlin refuses to go. “Merlin, for pity’s sake, you may be bloody Harry Potter but that doesn’t mean you’re immortal.”
Morgause raises her eyebrows. Merlin thinks he might like her more if she didn’t just stand there and look patient and reasonable while her thug smirks at them. “This is what you put up with around here, Merlin? Aredian said you were the most powerful warlock he’s run across in years, and you’re taking orders from a grocer? And Gaius?” She smiles, a bit pitying. “It’s as if you want to be a farmer forever.”
Merlin considers that for a few seconds, distracted enough to let Arthur manhandle him so they’re at least standing next to each other again, and thinks about being a kid, telling Will and his mother how he wanted to use magic to go into space and rescue damsels. Arthur gives him a look that he will undoubtedly pretend later wasn’t anxious and shifts his grip on the broom he somehow managed to pick up, and Merlin decides he doesn’t need to rescue damsels to be good. “Actually, I quite like being a farmer.”
Gaius will notice how long he’s been gone soon, and call him. Or Gwen will call Gaius and ask if he’s there yet, or Uther will call Arthur. They only have to keep Morgause here a bit longer and then they’ll … do something. That might be a flaw in his otherwise flawless plan.
“You can’t be serious,” says Cenred, and gives a pointed look around Camelot. “You actually want to stay here?”
“Right, that’s enough,” snaps Arthur, and lunges with his broom--in Cenred’s direction, luckily. Cenred doesn’t have magic of his own, from what they’ve found out, so at least Arthur is unlikely to get set on fire from that direction.
“End it!” shouts the dragon.
“Yes, all right, I’m trying,” Merlin says, and starts magically pelting Morgause with whatever products are on the shelves. She fends most of them off as easily as swatting flies and sends a bolt of pure energy his way. Merlin responds in kind, keeping one eye on Arthur and Cenred who have resorted to fisticuffs (the broom is in splinters on the floor, which might have been the fault of a flying jar of pickles, considering the amount of broken glass and brine on the floor).
It doesn’t take long for Morgause to figure out that hurting Arthur is going to hurt Merlin, and that he’s far less able to defend himself from her magic. Arthur yells and accidentally knees Cenred in the crotch when she turns at the last second and throws a bolt at him instead of Merlin, but miraculously dodges the worst of it. Morgause gets ready to send another, and Merlin loses his temper.
One of the first things Gaius taught Merlin was meditation, because half the reason Merlin went to him in the first place was because he had a bit of a tendency to make things explode when people pissed him off. This time, he blasts Morgause off her feet with a jet of flame that he stops before it melts anything in Arthur’s shop. Her suit smolders and she looks shaken for the first time, but she shouts a few words and Arthur starts clawing at his throat like he’s being choked.
“That is outside of enough,” says Merlin, and the dragon is shouting at him but he doesn’t particularly care, and he calls a length of hose out and ties Cenred up with it so there’s one less thing to worry about, which distracts Morgause just enough to let Arthur breathe, and then calls up so much energy he’s almost blind with it and lets it loose.
Morgause shrieks, and sends something back at him, knocking him off his feet and back into a wall, where he hits his head. Arthur yells something and then there’s a dull thunk, and Merlin pries his eyes open in time to see three or four Morgauses crumple to the ground while three or four Arthurs brandish the remainder of the broom handle above her. A few seconds later, when she shows no signs of moving, Arthur sprints across the store and drops to his knees next to Merlin, wincing. “Shit, Merlin, are you okay? What the hell was that? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Considering both of his hands are on Merlin’s shoulders, Merlin decides that’s a trick question. “You have to hold fingers up first, Arthur,” he says patiently. “Do you think maybe you could call 999?”
“Right, right,” says Arthur, sounding more than a bit panicked, and levers himself to his feet again. “Just stay awake, yeah? You’ve probably got a concussion, and--”
“Mmm,” says Merlin agreeably, and passes out to the sound of the glass door breaking and Officer Leon and their friends bursting through it.
*
They don’t get around to celebrating till the next night. First they have to explain everything to Officer Leon, and then several other police officers, and by “explain everything” Merlin of course means “lie through their teeth.” Merlin, through his concussion, sitting in Alice’s examination room with a blanket around his shoulders in case he’s in shock, puts on his most guileless expression and explains that Morgause and Cenred came in and started threatening them and then attacked them. No, he doesn’t know why it looks like Morgause got set on fire. Yes, it’s very amazing that Arthur managed to incapacitate Cenred long enough to tie him up that tight. He doesn’t quite remember how he got concussed, but he’s quite sure Morgause was the one who did it.
Morgause and Cenred both try to claim that they were the ones being attacked, but no one seems inclined to listen to them and an out-of-town police officer takes Arthur aside and actually thanks him, as apparently they’ve been looking for an excuse to investigate them for ages. (Merlin doesn’t find that bit out for a few days, since he’s busy being scolded by Alice and Gaius at the time, in between fighting down nausea and trying to work out how many of each person is around.)
Morgana, it turns out, is the one who realized that something was wrong, and the one who insisted that Officer Leon come to Camelot with them. She claims, when Uther and the police ask, that it was because Arthur was meant to call her when Merlin got to Camelot because she’d forgotten to tell him something. With the rest of them, she smirks and beams at Gwen because apparently they’ve worked things out properly at last.
They all end up out at the farm the next night. Merlin, on strict orders to do nothing strenuous, lays with his head on Arthur’s lap on the porch while everyone else gets giddy with success and cider. Gaius and Alice are giggling on the other side of the porch, Lance sitting near and expounding about how he wants to go to France next summer and do another cooking apprenticeship. Gwen and Morgana drift between groups, never letting go of each other’s hands and smiling at each other more than they manage to chat with anyone else. Gwaine grabs Freya’s hand and drags her out for a drunken approximation of a jig, and Freya actually laughs and dances along with him and conjures a daisy to hand to him when it’s over.
Arthur just sits and strokes his hand gingerly through Merlin’s hair. “My father,” he says at last, “is thinking of hiring Elena on part-time at the store. You know, Godwyn’s daughter? Says I’m working too much.”
“You do work too much,” says Merlin, comfortable and half-ready to drop off to sleep.
“Well, it looks as if I’ll have a bit more free time on my hands. So if sometime you’d like to go to a restaurant that isn’t The Castle, I would definitely be more than willing.”
Merlin smiles up at him. “Arthur, are you asking me on a date? You’re my destiny, you know. Other side of my coin. It’s sort of a forgone conclusion.”
Arthur scowls back. “No, actually, it’s not. I want you to go out with me because you want to, not because some barmy dragon on a can of peas told you it was meant to be.”
If he were feeling a bit less content, Merlin might think about smacking Arthur, who’s honestly got to be the thickest person he knows sometimes. And he knows Will. But he is content, and generous with it, and Morgana’s here to make sure Arthur’s ego doesn’t swell all the way to Neptune, so he feels okay with smiling and snuggling a bit closer and saying “I want to. Have wanted to. Honestly.”
Arthur attempts to turn a beam into a smirk and fails miserably. “Thought so.”
“Insufferable ass.”
“But you love me.”
Merlin ponders that. “If I agree, will you blame it on the concussion and let me pretend that I don’t remember it in the morning?”
Arthur just catches his eye and smiles, fond, and Merlin lets it turn into a moment and lets that stretch out while Gaius talks about visiting Marseilles and Morgana says something low and tucks Gwen’s hair behind her ear and Gwaine calls Freya “fair lady” and she giggles and yeah, okay, maybe everything the dragon says isn’t total bollocks after all.