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He paused long enough in his worry to have the presence of mind to retrieve the dagger the goddess had gifted him from his room before leaving Gaius’ chambers in a rush.
Merlin could hear the morning bell chiming the early hour, telling the citizenry to awaken and start going about their day, as he raced through the halls of the citadel. Darkness still blanketed the whole of Camelot in shadow and the frost of early winter bit at Merlin’s exposed skin. Between waking to...whatever it was that was apparently trying to consume his soul and searching through Gaius’ books for an answer, he hadn’t changed out of his nightshirt. He didn’t have time to regret his sartorial choices in the face of the danger to Arthur, though, so he kept moving and ignored the sharp cold that chased on his heels.
As cold as he had felt when touched by that thing that seemed to be made of shadows. Goddess willing, Arthur would never know what it felt like.
Nobody roamed the halls at such an early hour, the servants would be down in the warmer kitchen where the massive hearths would be in use, had been for hours, baking bread for the residents of the castle. They would be taking advantage of the heat as they waited for their masters and mistresses breakfasts to be ready, or loitering before beginning their tasks in cooler areas of the castle. He crashed past the guards in the corridor that led to the king’s chambers without a word, and for once was annoyed when they didn’t raise an eyebrow as he streaked by. The king was in danger, the least they could do was be more vigilant.
Without a thought Merlin threw the heavy doors open and his fears were confirmed: the shadowy figure that he had awoken to was hovering over Arthur, close enough to touch him.
“No!” Merlin shouted, rushing forward as fast as his feet could carry him. “Leave him alone!”
The figure paused, and shifted until Merlin assumed it was looking at him. It didn’t have a face that he could see, the entire shape of it draped in cloak and shadow. Merlin stared at it, wondering if he could reach it before it hurt Arthur, or killed him and took his form. His hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger until his nerves tingled with tension.
“Merlin?” Arthur said groggily as he stirred from his slumber. He was waking so much more slowly than he should have been. Normally he would have sprung out of bed and toward his sword in the blink of an eye at the first whiff of danger, but he seemed almost drunk. Was someone behind this? Had someone drugged Arthur somehow? “What’s going on?”
Merlin ignored Arthur’s question, addressing the shadowy figure, trying to draw its full attention away from the king and onto himself. “Leave him alone, you wanted me. Well I’m here,” he said desperately, trying to mask his fear under a veneer of bravado.
“Emrysssss,” a guttural voice scratched from the depths of the shadows, raising the hair on Merlin’s neck. He tried not to let his disquiet show, and stiffened his spine.
“Leave Arthur alone,” he repeated. The creature glided forward, toward Merlin. His heart hammered in his chest and every instinct in him screamed at him to escape, but he stood firm.
“Merlin what on earth are you doing?” Arthur demanded, sounding more coherent than he did a few moments before.
“Shut up, Arthur,” Merlin said through gritted teeth. “Let me handle this.”
“Emryssss,” the creature repeated. Merlin tried to remember every fighting lesson Arthur had ever tried to knock into his skull and widened his stance, readying to strike when the shadowy form got close enough. He didn’t know if he would triumph against something that seemed to be made of air and darkness, but he was damned if he would give up without a fight. The dagger the goddess had given him had helped before, perhaps it would help again. He could only hope.
Merlin’s pulse thundered rhythmically in his ears, and his attention narrowed down to the problem at hand. It was only by chance he heard Arthur’s soft swearing and the sound of him throwing his duvet off and stumbling to his feet. The creature was focused on Merlin, though, and he couldn’t take his attention off of it to figure out what his clotpole king thought he was doing.
“Emryssss,” it said once more, and Merlin hated the way it sounded, like a rusted sword scraping against armour, high and screeching. Merlin shifted his grip on the dagger, readying himself to strike as the creature approached. “Miiiiine,” it grated.
“DUCK,” Arthur commanded, and Merlin’s body did so without his permission. He dropped to the floor as he saw the swinging silver arc of a sword cutting through the air and catching the creature’s midsection. It wailed, causing Merlin to slap his hands over his ears, before a whirlwind took it away just as it had in Merlin’s room. He looked up a moment later to see Arthur holding Excalibur and looking down at him in a combination of annoyance and worry.
A classic look, honestly.
“Why did it call you Emrys?” Arthur demanded as Merlin pushed himself to his feet.
“That’s the first thing you want to know?” Merlin asked incredulously. “Not if I’m injured? Or what that thing was? Which, the answer to that is ‘I’m not entirely sure, but it’s dangerous,’ by the way.”
“You’re deflecting. Why do you always— argh.” Arthur gripped Excalibur’s hilt tightly, before setting it on the edge of the bed. “Would it kill you to be fully honest with me for once?” Arthur said in a voice filled with frustration edging on anger. It made Merlin’s hackles rise, especially in the face of an adrenaline comedown. He never asked for any of this, all he wanted was to find a place in the world he could live in peace. Sharing a destiny with the king of Camelot wasn’t in his plans.
“Yes, I thought it might!” Merlin snapped before he could stop himself. He didn’t blame Arthur for his father’s policies, especially not now as he was doing his utmost to reverse them. Arthur stared at him in the flickering candlelight, the first rays of dawn spilling onto the floor beneath the heavy curtains shielding the window and chasing away the worst of the— thankfully non-sentient— shadows cast by the dancing flames.
The king broke the standoff first, turning to face the covered window with jerky movements that were at odds with his usual practiced grace. Merlin felt a hint of guilt creep over him, even though he had told the truth. He really had feared for his life living every day in Camelot as a secret criminal. Even though things were different, and Arthur was actively working to make things better, old habits died hard. But Arthur didn’t deserve to take the blame for that. No, that responsibility lay squarely on the shoulders of someone who was no longer around to bear it.
“Arthur, I didn’t mean that,” Merlin said, taking a step forward with a hand raised toward Arthur.
“No, you clearly did. And for good reason,” Arthur said in a neutral tone that sent a shiver along Merlin’s spine. “I know I have a lot to make up for, to everyone—”
“You don’t, it’s not your fault—”
“Please Merlin, let me finish.” Arthur turned around to look at Merlin, and it was one of those moments that made Merlin see the king Arthur would become. He was calm and determined, the anger turning into a firm resolve. “I intend to see the wrongs my father perpetuated set right. You fearing for your life if the truth of your power were to get out is one of them. It may not be my fault, but it is my responsibility to see it corrected. Everyone that was ever hurt by Camelot’s stance on magic deserves a chance to finally live peacefully as who they are without hiding.”
“Arthur…” Merlin whispered. He had heard Arthur talking about lifting the ban and making peace with the druids, but even with a citadel full of visiting druids it hadn’t quite felt real until just now.
“I want to do that, but I can’t if I don’t have all the information I need,” Arthur said, and Merlin felt himself colouring. “So please, Merlin, tell me.”
Merlin walked over to the bed and set the dagger down next to Excalibur so his hands were free to twist his fingers together nervously. He didn’t look up at Arthur just yet, instead he idly admired the way the dagger and Excalibur almost seemed as though they were a matched set. The larger arming sword meant to protect, with the smaller dagger for closer up, turning the tables on an unsuspecting enemy. The shadow and the light.
“I was planning on telling you today,” he said softly, and mostly meant it. He knew Arthur was going to ask, and he never intended on lying to him. But he wasn’t sure if telling Arthur about Emrys was going to include telling him that he was Emrys. “I swear, Arthur, I didn’t keep it from you purposefully.” He looked up at Arthur, begging him with his eyes not to see him any differently. “Emrys is what the druids call me. I’m apparently some… prophesied saviour, but I’ve never felt like a prophesied anything.”
“So you telling me that Emrys is the most powerful warlock alive was the truth, then?” Arthur asked. Merlin nodded and Arthur’s eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. “You’re telling me that you, the world’s clumsiest and most incompetent manservant, are the most powerful warlock alive?”
“You don’t have to sound so shocked,” Merlin muttered, his cheeks heating even more.
“Excuse me while I try and wrap my mind around this,” Arthur said, bringing a hand up to massage at his temple. Merlin squinted at him in annoyance.
“After everything, this is what you’re having a hard time with?” he asked. “And anyway, how did you learn about Emrys in the first place?”
Inexplicably, Arthur’s face flushed a deep red and his mouth opened and closed several times before he answered. “Never mind that for now. We have more important things to worry about at the moment.”
“Arthur,” Merlin said in what he meant to be a warning, commanding tone but came out as more of a whine.
“Leave it, Merlin. It will keep. We need to focus on that creature and what it wanted,” Arthur said, setting the matter to rest. Merlin was dying of curiosity about the reason for Arthur’s sudden reticence about it, but figured he could wheedle the information out of him later.
“I don’t know what it’s called, but according to one of Gaius’ books it consumes the souls of the living and can take on their form. And consuming the soul of someone with magic makes it stronger,” Merlin explained. Arthur nodded thoughtfully.
“It makes sense that if it can take on someone’s identity that it would target the king. What better way to bring an entire kingdom to its knees than by becoming someone in such a position of power?” Arthur said. “But how did you know it was after me?”
“I woke the same way you did,” Merlin said. “It was hovering over me, I assume trying to eat my soul. I chased it off with the dagger, and thought it would come here next.”
“Good thinking,” Arthur said, patting Merlin’s shoulder with a pleased nod as he passed him in the beginnings of pacing the room. “The question we should be asking is who sent it. Do you think this is a plot of Morgana’s?”
Merlin shrugged. “I’m not sure. We haven’t heard from her in so long, not since before you announced your intentions to make peace with the druids and the rest of magic-kind. I suppose she could be behind it, but we don’t have any proof. What if it isn’t her?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it for now except wait and see,” Arthur said with a grimace. Waiting and seeing were not his strong points, he was more about taking action.
“How are you feeling?” Merlin asked. “You woke much slower than you usually would in a dangerous situation.”
Arthur paused his pacing, and flexed both his hands as if testing his limbs. “I still feel foggy,” he said slowly. “Though the adrenaline of the moment chased most of it off when I realised something was wrong.”
Merlin bit his lip, fearing his the worst. “Do you think you could have been drugged?” he asked. Arthur stared at him for the duration of several heartbeats before shaking his head.
“I can’t be sure. But it begs the question, who would do such a thing that has access to my chambers?”
Merlin ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Not to mention, I don’t think you killed the creature. I think you got a good hit in when you swung at it, but it disappeared like that when I hit it with the dagger as well.”
Arthur swore softly at this news. “Which means it’s still on the loose in the castle,” he said, stripping out of his sleep trousers and shirt. “Help me dress, Merlin.”
Merlin looked down at his own nightshirt and regretted for a moment not taking the time to put on some actual clothes before going monster hunting.
“Where do you think it went next?” he asked as he opened Arthur’s wardrobe to retrieve his clothes.
Arthur dropped his shirt on the floor as he gave Merlin a very serious look. “Who else in the castle do we know of that has magic? Magic that apparently makes this thing stronger?”
Merlin sucked in a panicked breath, before murmuring, “The druids.”
What better way was there to disrupt peace talks than by finding the visiting delegation murdered in their beds? Or better yet, having one of them replaced by the creature to sabotage everything?
“We need to hurry,” Arthur said.