FIC: Pull (2/4)
Sep. 19th, 2009 12:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
corilannamTitle: Pull
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,577
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Elements of mind control within a consentual sexual encounter
Summary: Merlin has spent his life running from the Pendragons, but destiny has other plans.
Chapter 1
Then they were falling. He felt Lancelot's power around them, slowing them. Merlin sent a blast of his own power at the ground to cushion them. They bounced off nothing, then tumbled in heaps on the pavement.
Arthur groaned, but Merlin dragged him back to his feet without mercy. "No time. Your friends can't delay them long, and they'll have a Sniff."
"Tristan. My uncle." Arthur groaned out the words, leaning on Merlin more heavily than before. "And Nimueh will be with him."
"Oh, fantastic." It took Merlin another second to realize that Gwen hadn't followed them. He looked up just in time to see the window slam shut. He blinked, and the window was gone like it had never been.
"Wonder which one of them she fancies?" Merlin muttered to himself and hoisted Arthur higher on his shoulder.
"Your friend Gwen? Both of them, actually," Arthur said as they stumbled forward.
"Really? You’re kidding." Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur without thinking. Nose to nose they grinned at each other until Arthur abruptly straightened his face and cleared his throat as he looked away.
"Look, if you're supposed to be helping me escape, you'd better get a move on. Ow, fuck!"
Merlin steered him away from the lamp post a second too late. "Sorry," he lied. "Guess you'll have to have to settle for me saving your life from whatever perverted thing your father was trying to do to you back there."
Arthur stiffened against his side. "I'm sure Morgana told you what happened."
"She told me about the drug. She didn't tell me why Pendragon was testing it on his own son."
Arthur didn't answer, but he did gradually begin to regain his strength. By the time they had zigzagged down a third alleyway and emerged onto the street, Arthur was walking under his own power and looking, if not healthy, at least a bit less like lukewarm death.
"So where exactly are we going?" Arthur was starting to ask just as Merlin felt a warning prickle along the back of his neck, accompanied by an overwhelming urge to get off the street.
"We can't keep walking much longer," he said as they turned another corner. He spotted an Underground sign and grabbed Arthur's arm again.
"First sensible thing I've heard you say." Arthur followed until he noticed where he was being dragged. Then he dug his heels in, literally, until Merlin was jerked to a stop. "Merlin. I do not take public transport."
"Of all the--" Merlin stopped and looked around the busy street, then leaned in to speak quietly. "Look, they're coming now. We have to move faster, and the tube is harder to follow than a taxi in this traffic." Not to mention he didn't have money for a taxi, and he very much doubted Arthur had any cash on him, given the circumstances.
"Tristan and Nimueh are the best track-and-capture team around, and they've had a bitch of a time finding you before." Arthur sounded as casual as if he hadn't been part of the hunt, as though Merlin hadn't seen the man capturing people Merlin knew with little more than a wave of his hand as he dragged them back to Division. "You're a strong Shadow."
"I'm only strong enough to hide myself, not anyone else. That's how most of my powers are." Merlin felt his mouth twisting in something that might resemble a grin. "Aren't you glad you've spent so much time trying to catch me?"
Arthur gave him an odd look, but didn't take the bait. "I've no idea how strong I am at it, or even how to do it. I was a very strong Mover, but--everything's different now."
Merlin felt torn between compassion and anger. It was hard to forget who Arthur was, but he couldn't deny that Arthur was right. Everything had changed, and somehow they had ended up on the same side. It was equally as hard not to feel a kinship with him now, on the run from the people they both had reason to fear and hate.
"I think you'll be pretty strong once everything settles," he offered. "I could feel it when I touched you before."
Arthur's cheeks colored slightly, as though he weren't used to such intimacies. "Well, let's see, then," he muttered and looked at the newsstand just outside the station.
A stack of Guardians trembled, then the top copy flew to Arthur's hands. The newsstand owner started to shout, then subsided with a glassy-eyed stare as Arthur's whispered command erased all memory of the event.
"Not bad," Merlin admitted, trying not to acknowledge the tiny niggle of envy.
"Christ." Arthur stared down at the newspaper. "How long was I sick before Morgana got me out of there?"
Merlin felt another unwanted twinge of sympathy. It wouldn't do to hope that Arthur had truly repudiated Division and his father's quest for power. There was one way to find out, one person who could Watch enough to know, though Merlin liked the idea about as much as asking Uther himself.
But he needed to know why he could feel himself getting entangled with this man's life more with every minute.
"Come on," he said, pulling Arthur into the tube station.
Arthur followed without protest this time, shoving his newspaper at a passing commuter who showed no signs of surprise after Arthur looked at her for a second. Another Pendragon Pusher. God help them all.
"All right, I think I have enough on this to get us there," Merlin said as he dug in his pockets for his Oyster card. "I'll swipe it and make sure the gate stays open long enough for you to follow me. You take care of it if the copper over there starts looking at us."
"Or I could just use this," Arthur said behind him.
Merlin turned to see the other man fingering a bright blue Oyster card as though he'd never seen one before. "How did you--?" he started before realizing it was a stupid question.
Arthur grinned at him, proud of himself. "I just asked nicely," he said, inclining his head toward a middle-aged man in a suit who was unconcernedly buying himself a travelcard.
"I guess I can't talk about scruples right now," Merlin said as he turned back to the gates. "Let's go."
He didn't let Arthur stand on the escalators, shoving him into the stream of anonymous commuters thundering down into the tunnels as though they were about to miss the last train that would ever run. Merlin felt a similar sense of urgency: Shadow or not, their luck couldn't hold out much longer.
A train had just pulled in when they reached the platform. Merlin started to get on the next to last carriage, then stopped. There was something wrong with that carriage. He should get on one of the other carriages, or perhaps wait for the next train.
He blinked, then shook off the compulsion and looked around at the people streaming out of their chosen carriage. When it was empty, Arthur stepped aboard and surveyed his new domain. "Much better," he said, then impatiently pulled Merlin after him just as the doors closed. "You're not easy to push. I could feel the suggestion slipping off you almost as soon as I sent it. Everyone else was like a sheep."
"That's the most I've ever gotten out of my pushing ability." He dropped into a seat across the aisle from Arthur. "I've never done much to other people, but nobody else can push me if I don't want them to. Except maybe your father."
They sat in silence in the empty carriage as the train jerked into motion. "This is the District Line train for Gedref. Next station, Mercia Square," the pleasant female voice said over the loudspeaker.
By the time they passed through two stations, Merlin's sense of foreboding had eased, but a different unsettling feeling took its place. He jiggled his leg for a minute, then got up, paced the length of the carriage under Arthur's baleful stare, then sat again, this time next to Arthur. Strangely, he felt better, like he was where he meant to be.
"I know," Arthur murmured, staring up at something more distant than the advert for English courses overhead. "I feel it, too. Absurd, isn't it?"
"You didn't answer me before, you know." Merlin studied the profile of the man next to him. In his gray running gear, looking lost, he barely resembled the cool, unruffled Division agent that Merlin had once seen take down three other Movers at the same time. "Why is your father running his experiments on you? It didn't sound like this drug has much of a survival rate."
"It has a zero percent survival rate." The corner of Arthur's mouth that Merlin could see twisted a bit. "Well. Until me. And to answer your question, I volunteered."
"You volunteered? With a survival rate of nothing? Wow. I knew you were an enormous prat, but I didn't realize you were an even bigger idiot."
Arthur turned his head just enough to shoot him a glare. "You calling me an idiot. That's rich." He turned away again. "It was my duty. I was the strongest, I had the best chance. I don't expect you to understand."
He didn't think he'd ever understand how a Pendragon thought, but he was beginning to understand this Pendragon a little better. Merlin leaned to his right almost imperceptibly, brushing his shoulder against Arthur's in silent acknowledgment of the cost of his words.
Arthur huffed and elbowed him away. "I don't require pity. You needn't pretend not to hate me. I don't expect this to change anything."
Merlin sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Oh, I'd like to still hate you. Believe me, I'd like that very much." He stood up as the train slowed again. "This is our stop."
They stood together in silence as the train came to a stop. When the doors opened, Arthur started to step out. On impulse, Merlin stopped him with a hand to his chest. "It isn't that I hate you. But your father's experiments.... He killed my mother."
Arthur looked at him, something that wasn't sympathy or sorrow or regret in his eyes. "Yeah," he said finally. "He killed mine, too."
Then he was off, striding through the twists of the station as if he knew exactly where they were going. Merlin shook off his surprise and sent an experimental push at Arthur, a command to fucking stop and wait for him. He could see when Arthur brushed it off, though several random people on the opposite platform stopped in their tracks, not seeming to mind the cursing in their wake.
Merlin grinned widely at even that much success and stopped to get the people moving again before he jogged after Arthur. He found him waiting outside the station, calmly sipping a coffee though there wasn't a stand or cafe anywhere in sight. Some unsuspecting Londoner would be under-caffeinated today and not know why.
"So where are we going?" Arthur asked as Merlin came up panting beside him.
Merlin tried to glare, but it had even less effect than his attempt at pushing. "Follow me. We need someone to tell us what comes next. I don't know about you, but I'm well out of my league."
Thankfully, Arthur decided to forgo the obvious insult. He still looked dubious, and privately, Merlin was as well. The Dragon was, without question, the most powerful Watcher anyone had heard of. Even Division were so afraid to deal with him that they had imprisoned him and then let him go, or so legend had it. Personally, Merlin had always suspected that Uther had finally met his match and wisely found himself a less aggravating Watcher to serve him.
Though after today, Merlin was beginning to question Uther's general ability to judge people's character.
"You must be kidding," Arthur said as Merlin stopped in front of the old pub buried back between a church and a derelict hat shop.
Merlin ignored him and pushed the door open. The place might look a little downscale, but if Arthur preferred the undoubtedly pristine laboratories of Division, he was welcome to go back there.
He led the way through the maze of empty tables toward the back. The sole worker behind the bar didn't even bother looking up from her magazine. Any visitors before the noon hour were always for the Dragon.
Around the corner from the kitchen, a long dingy corridor stretched down to a single door at the end. Two burly guards stood on either side of it. Behind him, Merlin felt Arthur tensing for a confrontation. Without thinking, Merlin put his hand back to touch Arthur's arm just as the guards stood aside.
One of them pushed open the door. "He's expecting you."
"Of course he is," Merlin said under his breath, awkwardly nodding his thanks as he pulled Arthur past them. He wasn't sure if the old Watcher's blessing would prevail if they realized who Arthur actually was.
The room beyond was exactly as Merlin remembered from when he had stormed out of it two years ago. He gritted his teeth at the memory. Arthur looked at him briefly, then went back to examining their surroundings.
There was not much to examine. The overhead light was rather dim; rumor had it the old man's visions were so powerful he didn't need normal light to see. A wide wooden table, its surface clear even of dust, took up most of the space with two chairs in front of it and one behind it.
"There are always exactly as many chairs as visitors," Merlin noted, just to have something to say in the silence.
"I endeavor to be hospitable. Everyone has a place at my table. Even you, young Pendragon."
They both jerked their heads around at the voice, strong even as it creaked with age. The Dragon was sitting in his chair like he'd been there all along. He was immaculate in a suit that had been fashionable a century ago. White hair swept back almost like a crest over the top of his head. His large, dark eyes glittered with thinly veiled impatience. Merlin supposed that when you always knew what was going to happen, it must be difficult to wait for the rest of the world to catch up.
"Thank you," Arthur replied cautiously, never taking his eyes from the Dragon as he groped for one of the free chairs and lowered himself into it. "I think I've heard a lot about you."
"I'm certain that you have, son of Uther." The Dragon turned to Merlin, who was sliding into the other chair with a painful sense of deja vu. "Young Merlin, I am surprised to see you here again."
"No, you're not," Merlin answered flatly.
"The last time you were here, you swore by all that was holy that you would never return."
"The last time I was here, you told me my mother was going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."
"And now she is dead," the old man agreed. "And here you sit."
His teeth started grinding again, and he glared at the old man, knowing it wouldn't make any difference one way or the other. "Things have changed."
The Dragon looked between them and suddenly, bizarrely, beamed at them like it was Christmas morning. "Indeed, they have. Indeed, they have!"
They waited, but the old man just kept smiling like a loon. After a minute, Arthur cast a questioning glance at Merlin. The look quickly turned to exasperation as Merlin avoided looking back.
"Look, you're going to have to be just a bit more forthcoming than that," Arthur finally said as he leaned forward in his chair to tap his fingers on the table. "We need to know what to do. We need to know what's coming."
"Of course you do. If you looked for yourselves, you would not have to bother an old man."
"I've only just gained that ability." Arthur sat back and gestured dismissively toward Merlin. "And he's pretty well useless, as I'm sure you know."
"Hey," Merlin protested, but the Dragon was already shaking his head and beckoning to them both.
"For the sake of destiny," he said, keeping his hands outstretched towards them. "This once, I will show you what you should have already known."
"What destiny?" Merlin tried to ask, but the old man just gave him another impatient look.
Arthur was already rising up far enough to lean over the table and let the Dragon place one wizened hand on his face. He looked determined and serene--growing up a Pendragon apparently gave one a higher tolerance for concepts like destiny.
Reluctantly, Merlin rose and mimicked Arthur's stance. He let the old man curve his hand around Merlin's cheek and tried not to think about how it resembled a claw.
They stood like that until Merlin felt his back twinge. He opened his mouth to say something, started to pull away--and then the world dropped out around him.
Real Watchers, or so he'd been told, saw the future like a slide show: disconnected images of things to come with no explanation. The best of them saw clips of a moving picture: brief, vivid, and if they were very good indeed, targeted at what they wanted to know.
This was nothing like that. The visions flashed like a dream, and like a dream, Merlin was inside it. He experienced his own actions without context or volition. He was running, shouting, talking, walking down a long gray corridor he didn't recognize. He was face to face with Uther Pendragon and he felt no fear.
Through all of it, he was at Arthur's side, always at his side. He felt the weight of that just as he felt the weight of the blue eyes boring into his. The vision settled abruptly.
They were alone now, in a room Merlin didn’t know. He had time to see that Arthur wore the same ratty joggers as today before he found his mouth seized by Arthur’s demanding lips. Then it flashed until there was only the weight of Arthur's naked body on his back, pressing him into a painted brick wall, surging and thrusting and desperate.
Then the dream ended with the jolt of waking, except that everything went black.
He was still humming with the wholly unexpected arousal when he came to, sprawled on his back over the table. His eyes hurt when he opened them. He blinked and squinted to focus on the object hovering above him.
When it spoke, he realized it was the Dragon, looking down at him with an expression both curious and complacent. "You really should get up," the old man said. "Nimueh is here. Good-bye."
Merlin started to tip over the edge of the table. He flailed his arms and legs until he ended up in a heap on the fraying carpet. By the time he picked himself up, the Dragon was gone.
Chapter 3
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,577
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Elements of mind control within a consentual sexual encounter
Summary: Merlin has spent his life running from the Pendragons, but destiny has other plans.
Chapter 1
Then they were falling. He felt Lancelot's power around them, slowing them. Merlin sent a blast of his own power at the ground to cushion them. They bounced off nothing, then tumbled in heaps on the pavement.
Arthur groaned, but Merlin dragged him back to his feet without mercy. "No time. Your friends can't delay them long, and they'll have a Sniff."
"Tristan. My uncle." Arthur groaned out the words, leaning on Merlin more heavily than before. "And Nimueh will be with him."
"Oh, fantastic." It took Merlin another second to realize that Gwen hadn't followed them. He looked up just in time to see the window slam shut. He blinked, and the window was gone like it had never been.
"Wonder which one of them she fancies?" Merlin muttered to himself and hoisted Arthur higher on his shoulder.
"Your friend Gwen? Both of them, actually," Arthur said as they stumbled forward.
"Really? You’re kidding." Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur without thinking. Nose to nose they grinned at each other until Arthur abruptly straightened his face and cleared his throat as he looked away.
"Look, if you're supposed to be helping me escape, you'd better get a move on. Ow, fuck!"
Merlin steered him away from the lamp post a second too late. "Sorry," he lied. "Guess you'll have to have to settle for me saving your life from whatever perverted thing your father was trying to do to you back there."
Arthur stiffened against his side. "I'm sure Morgana told you what happened."
"She told me about the drug. She didn't tell me why Pendragon was testing it on his own son."
Arthur didn't answer, but he did gradually begin to regain his strength. By the time they had zigzagged down a third alleyway and emerged onto the street, Arthur was walking under his own power and looking, if not healthy, at least a bit less like lukewarm death.
"So where exactly are we going?" Arthur was starting to ask just as Merlin felt a warning prickle along the back of his neck, accompanied by an overwhelming urge to get off the street.
"We can't keep walking much longer," he said as they turned another corner. He spotted an Underground sign and grabbed Arthur's arm again.
"First sensible thing I've heard you say." Arthur followed until he noticed where he was being dragged. Then he dug his heels in, literally, until Merlin was jerked to a stop. "Merlin. I do not take public transport."
"Of all the--" Merlin stopped and looked around the busy street, then leaned in to speak quietly. "Look, they're coming now. We have to move faster, and the tube is harder to follow than a taxi in this traffic." Not to mention he didn't have money for a taxi, and he very much doubted Arthur had any cash on him, given the circumstances.
"Tristan and Nimueh are the best track-and-capture team around, and they've had a bitch of a time finding you before." Arthur sounded as casual as if he hadn't been part of the hunt, as though Merlin hadn't seen the man capturing people Merlin knew with little more than a wave of his hand as he dragged them back to Division. "You're a strong Shadow."
"I'm only strong enough to hide myself, not anyone else. That's how most of my powers are." Merlin felt his mouth twisting in something that might resemble a grin. "Aren't you glad you've spent so much time trying to catch me?"
Arthur gave him an odd look, but didn't take the bait. "I've no idea how strong I am at it, or even how to do it. I was a very strong Mover, but--everything's different now."
Merlin felt torn between compassion and anger. It was hard to forget who Arthur was, but he couldn't deny that Arthur was right. Everything had changed, and somehow they had ended up on the same side. It was equally as hard not to feel a kinship with him now, on the run from the people they both had reason to fear and hate.
"I think you'll be pretty strong once everything settles," he offered. "I could feel it when I touched you before."
Arthur's cheeks colored slightly, as though he weren't used to such intimacies. "Well, let's see, then," he muttered and looked at the newsstand just outside the station.
A stack of Guardians trembled, then the top copy flew to Arthur's hands. The newsstand owner started to shout, then subsided with a glassy-eyed stare as Arthur's whispered command erased all memory of the event.
"Not bad," Merlin admitted, trying not to acknowledge the tiny niggle of envy.
"Christ." Arthur stared down at the newspaper. "How long was I sick before Morgana got me out of there?"
Merlin felt another unwanted twinge of sympathy. It wouldn't do to hope that Arthur had truly repudiated Division and his father's quest for power. There was one way to find out, one person who could Watch enough to know, though Merlin liked the idea about as much as asking Uther himself.
But he needed to know why he could feel himself getting entangled with this man's life more with every minute.
"Come on," he said, pulling Arthur into the tube station.
Arthur followed without protest this time, shoving his newspaper at a passing commuter who showed no signs of surprise after Arthur looked at her for a second. Another Pendragon Pusher. God help them all.
"All right, I think I have enough on this to get us there," Merlin said as he dug in his pockets for his Oyster card. "I'll swipe it and make sure the gate stays open long enough for you to follow me. You take care of it if the copper over there starts looking at us."
"Or I could just use this," Arthur said behind him.
Merlin turned to see the other man fingering a bright blue Oyster card as though he'd never seen one before. "How did you--?" he started before realizing it was a stupid question.
Arthur grinned at him, proud of himself. "I just asked nicely," he said, inclining his head toward a middle-aged man in a suit who was unconcernedly buying himself a travelcard.
"I guess I can't talk about scruples right now," Merlin said as he turned back to the gates. "Let's go."
He didn't let Arthur stand on the escalators, shoving him into the stream of anonymous commuters thundering down into the tunnels as though they were about to miss the last train that would ever run. Merlin felt a similar sense of urgency: Shadow or not, their luck couldn't hold out much longer.
A train had just pulled in when they reached the platform. Merlin started to get on the next to last carriage, then stopped. There was something wrong with that carriage. He should get on one of the other carriages, or perhaps wait for the next train.
He blinked, then shook off the compulsion and looked around at the people streaming out of their chosen carriage. When it was empty, Arthur stepped aboard and surveyed his new domain. "Much better," he said, then impatiently pulled Merlin after him just as the doors closed. "You're not easy to push. I could feel the suggestion slipping off you almost as soon as I sent it. Everyone else was like a sheep."
"That's the most I've ever gotten out of my pushing ability." He dropped into a seat across the aisle from Arthur. "I've never done much to other people, but nobody else can push me if I don't want them to. Except maybe your father."
They sat in silence in the empty carriage as the train jerked into motion. "This is the District Line train for Gedref. Next station, Mercia Square," the pleasant female voice said over the loudspeaker.
By the time they passed through two stations, Merlin's sense of foreboding had eased, but a different unsettling feeling took its place. He jiggled his leg for a minute, then got up, paced the length of the carriage under Arthur's baleful stare, then sat again, this time next to Arthur. Strangely, he felt better, like he was where he meant to be.
"I know," Arthur murmured, staring up at something more distant than the advert for English courses overhead. "I feel it, too. Absurd, isn't it?"
"You didn't answer me before, you know." Merlin studied the profile of the man next to him. In his gray running gear, looking lost, he barely resembled the cool, unruffled Division agent that Merlin had once seen take down three other Movers at the same time. "Why is your father running his experiments on you? It didn't sound like this drug has much of a survival rate."
"It has a zero percent survival rate." The corner of Arthur's mouth that Merlin could see twisted a bit. "Well. Until me. And to answer your question, I volunteered."
"You volunteered? With a survival rate of nothing? Wow. I knew you were an enormous prat, but I didn't realize you were an even bigger idiot."
Arthur turned his head just enough to shoot him a glare. "You calling me an idiot. That's rich." He turned away again. "It was my duty. I was the strongest, I had the best chance. I don't expect you to understand."
He didn't think he'd ever understand how a Pendragon thought, but he was beginning to understand this Pendragon a little better. Merlin leaned to his right almost imperceptibly, brushing his shoulder against Arthur's in silent acknowledgment of the cost of his words.
Arthur huffed and elbowed him away. "I don't require pity. You needn't pretend not to hate me. I don't expect this to change anything."
Merlin sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Oh, I'd like to still hate you. Believe me, I'd like that very much." He stood up as the train slowed again. "This is our stop."
They stood together in silence as the train came to a stop. When the doors opened, Arthur started to step out. On impulse, Merlin stopped him with a hand to his chest. "It isn't that I hate you. But your father's experiments.... He killed my mother."
Arthur looked at him, something that wasn't sympathy or sorrow or regret in his eyes. "Yeah," he said finally. "He killed mine, too."
Then he was off, striding through the twists of the station as if he knew exactly where they were going. Merlin shook off his surprise and sent an experimental push at Arthur, a command to fucking stop and wait for him. He could see when Arthur brushed it off, though several random people on the opposite platform stopped in their tracks, not seeming to mind the cursing in their wake.
Merlin grinned widely at even that much success and stopped to get the people moving again before he jogged after Arthur. He found him waiting outside the station, calmly sipping a coffee though there wasn't a stand or cafe anywhere in sight. Some unsuspecting Londoner would be under-caffeinated today and not know why.
"So where are we going?" Arthur asked as Merlin came up panting beside him.
Merlin tried to glare, but it had even less effect than his attempt at pushing. "Follow me. We need someone to tell us what comes next. I don't know about you, but I'm well out of my league."
Thankfully, Arthur decided to forgo the obvious insult. He still looked dubious, and privately, Merlin was as well. The Dragon was, without question, the most powerful Watcher anyone had heard of. Even Division were so afraid to deal with him that they had imprisoned him and then let him go, or so legend had it. Personally, Merlin had always suspected that Uther had finally met his match and wisely found himself a less aggravating Watcher to serve him.
Though after today, Merlin was beginning to question Uther's general ability to judge people's character.
"You must be kidding," Arthur said as Merlin stopped in front of the old pub buried back between a church and a derelict hat shop.
Merlin ignored him and pushed the door open. The place might look a little downscale, but if Arthur preferred the undoubtedly pristine laboratories of Division, he was welcome to go back there.
He led the way through the maze of empty tables toward the back. The sole worker behind the bar didn't even bother looking up from her magazine. Any visitors before the noon hour were always for the Dragon.
Around the corner from the kitchen, a long dingy corridor stretched down to a single door at the end. Two burly guards stood on either side of it. Behind him, Merlin felt Arthur tensing for a confrontation. Without thinking, Merlin put his hand back to touch Arthur's arm just as the guards stood aside.
One of them pushed open the door. "He's expecting you."
"Of course he is," Merlin said under his breath, awkwardly nodding his thanks as he pulled Arthur past them. He wasn't sure if the old Watcher's blessing would prevail if they realized who Arthur actually was.
The room beyond was exactly as Merlin remembered from when he had stormed out of it two years ago. He gritted his teeth at the memory. Arthur looked at him briefly, then went back to examining their surroundings.
There was not much to examine. The overhead light was rather dim; rumor had it the old man's visions were so powerful he didn't need normal light to see. A wide wooden table, its surface clear even of dust, took up most of the space with two chairs in front of it and one behind it.
"There are always exactly as many chairs as visitors," Merlin noted, just to have something to say in the silence.
"I endeavor to be hospitable. Everyone has a place at my table. Even you, young Pendragon."
They both jerked their heads around at the voice, strong even as it creaked with age. The Dragon was sitting in his chair like he'd been there all along. He was immaculate in a suit that had been fashionable a century ago. White hair swept back almost like a crest over the top of his head. His large, dark eyes glittered with thinly veiled impatience. Merlin supposed that when you always knew what was going to happen, it must be difficult to wait for the rest of the world to catch up.
"Thank you," Arthur replied cautiously, never taking his eyes from the Dragon as he groped for one of the free chairs and lowered himself into it. "I think I've heard a lot about you."
"I'm certain that you have, son of Uther." The Dragon turned to Merlin, who was sliding into the other chair with a painful sense of deja vu. "Young Merlin, I am surprised to see you here again."
"No, you're not," Merlin answered flatly.
"The last time you were here, you swore by all that was holy that you would never return."
"The last time I was here, you told me my mother was going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."
"And now she is dead," the old man agreed. "And here you sit."
His teeth started grinding again, and he glared at the old man, knowing it wouldn't make any difference one way or the other. "Things have changed."
The Dragon looked between them and suddenly, bizarrely, beamed at them like it was Christmas morning. "Indeed, they have. Indeed, they have!"
They waited, but the old man just kept smiling like a loon. After a minute, Arthur cast a questioning glance at Merlin. The look quickly turned to exasperation as Merlin avoided looking back.
"Look, you're going to have to be just a bit more forthcoming than that," Arthur finally said as he leaned forward in his chair to tap his fingers on the table. "We need to know what to do. We need to know what's coming."
"Of course you do. If you looked for yourselves, you would not have to bother an old man."
"I've only just gained that ability." Arthur sat back and gestured dismissively toward Merlin. "And he's pretty well useless, as I'm sure you know."
"Hey," Merlin protested, but the Dragon was already shaking his head and beckoning to them both.
"For the sake of destiny," he said, keeping his hands outstretched towards them. "This once, I will show you what you should have already known."
"What destiny?" Merlin tried to ask, but the old man just gave him another impatient look.
Arthur was already rising up far enough to lean over the table and let the Dragon place one wizened hand on his face. He looked determined and serene--growing up a Pendragon apparently gave one a higher tolerance for concepts like destiny.
Reluctantly, Merlin rose and mimicked Arthur's stance. He let the old man curve his hand around Merlin's cheek and tried not to think about how it resembled a claw.
They stood like that until Merlin felt his back twinge. He opened his mouth to say something, started to pull away--and then the world dropped out around him.
Real Watchers, or so he'd been told, saw the future like a slide show: disconnected images of things to come with no explanation. The best of them saw clips of a moving picture: brief, vivid, and if they were very good indeed, targeted at what they wanted to know.
This was nothing like that. The visions flashed like a dream, and like a dream, Merlin was inside it. He experienced his own actions without context or volition. He was running, shouting, talking, walking down a long gray corridor he didn't recognize. He was face to face with Uther Pendragon and he felt no fear.
Through all of it, he was at Arthur's side, always at his side. He felt the weight of that just as he felt the weight of the blue eyes boring into his. The vision settled abruptly.
They were alone now, in a room Merlin didn’t know. He had time to see that Arthur wore the same ratty joggers as today before he found his mouth seized by Arthur’s demanding lips. Then it flashed until there was only the weight of Arthur's naked body on his back, pressing him into a painted brick wall, surging and thrusting and desperate.
Then the dream ended with the jolt of waking, except that everything went black.
He was still humming with the wholly unexpected arousal when he came to, sprawled on his back over the table. His eyes hurt when he opened them. He blinked and squinted to focus on the object hovering above him.
When it spoke, he realized it was the Dragon, looking down at him with an expression both curious and complacent. "You really should get up," the old man said. "Nimueh is here. Good-bye."
Merlin started to tip over the edge of the table. He flailed his arms and legs until he ended up in a heap on the fraying carpet. By the time he picked himself up, the Dragon was gone.
Chapter 3
