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The wind howled and roared as the horse rode through the forest. The two men on its back, one weakly clutching onto the other, seemingly desperate to reach a place yet unknown to them.
Eventually the riders came to a screeching halt outside a cave covered by vines so thick, not even a sword could cut through them.
Regardless of that, the taller of the two men hurriedly dismounted before lifting the other into his arms and pushing his way through the foliage.
“Hello?!” He desperately called out, “Is anyone here? I need help!”
He ventures further into the cave as the man in his arms weakly calls out his name.
“Arthur…”
“Shut up Merlin, you’re not going to die on me, not this time!” Arthur exclaims in desperation.
“Arthur Pendragon,” Comes a voice from further in the cave, hauntingly low and echoing off the stone walls.
“Who’s there?” Arthur questions, cursing internally for not being able to draw his sword.
A ragged figure emerges from the shadows that shielded them from view.
“Young Pendragon, why have you sought me out?” they ask as they step closer.
“I-I need help. My servant, he’s been wounded.” Arthur replies, gesturing with his head at the unconscious Merlin in his arms.
“I can see that, but why have you come to me? Surely Gaius would have something for him?” The figure replies once again.
“How do you know Gaius?” Arthur tenses up, his nerves buzzing with fear and anxiety, not only from the person in front of him, but also for the man in his arms.
“I know a lot of things, young Arthur; but first, let us take care of Merlin, shall we?” The figure gestures with a wave of their hand to follow before starting to delve deeper into the cavern.
Arthur, in no position to refuse the order, follows the figure cautiously. As they go deeper, there begins to be a faint light coming from the wall. Delicate blue and gold crystals emit a soft light that bounces off the stone in a whirl of color.
Suddenly the figure speaks up, “What were you doing when you came looking for me?”
Arthur is reluctant to tell them; this person seems like trouble, the magical kind of trouble.
“I was in the area, with a company, when we were attacked.” He says, deciding to share some of the truth in order to gain trust.
“And would this…company…be in search of the Lady Morgana?” The figure speaks again.
This was the final straw for Arthur. Setting Merlin down behind him, he draws his sword and points it at their impromptu host.
“How did you know that?” He snarls, fearful of the implications that this might have been a trap.
The figure turns around, and grins; at least, Arthur thinks so. He can’t make out any discerning features in the dim light.
“Ahh…so you are between seasons. How tragic is what is to come,” The figure speaks as they grin even wider.
“What do you mean? Speak not in riddles, sorcerer!” Arthur cries, frustrated at the ambiguous words and hidden information spouting from the other’s mouth.
“Ah, ah, ah..!” The figure wiggles a finger at him, “I am no sorcerer, young prince. You may call me…a reader.” This seems to amuse them even more and they chuckle under their breath.
“Is this funny to you? I need answers!” Arthur says, pushing his sword ever so slightly closer.
“No. What you need is help, and I am offering it to you. Now, if you don’t want Merlin to die, then you’ll let me help you. Now pick him up off the ground! It’s unsanitary,” And with that said, the figure turns around again and continues walking.
Arthur wars with himself on what to do, but a pain-filled moan from Merlin decides for him. Letting out a frustrated grunt, he once again hoists the manservant into his arms and follows the mysterious person down the long tunnel.
They walk for a few more minutes before turning a corner into a firelit room inside the cave system. There’s a bed on the right that Arthur carefully sets Merlin on, never once turning his back to the figure. Said person is on the other side of the small room where shelves are carved into the stone. They take out bottles of a strange material and start to make their way over to the unconscious Merlin.
“Merlin, such a wonderful man he is,” The figure says as they sit on a nearby stool and remove his shirt to examine the wound.
“And how would you know that?” Arthur retorts shortly, crossing his arms as he watches the procedures like a hawk.
“I know many things. Things mostly about you and Merlin,” The figure laughs to themself as they take a piece of white cotton and pour out a liquid onto it. The liquid tickles the inside of Arthur’s nose, and he watches as Merlin hisses in pain as it comes into contact with his injury.
“What are you doing?” He demands, grabbing the person’s wrist in order to yank them away.
“I am saving his life!” The person replies, angered. Arthur realizes he still can’t make out their face, even in the light from the fire burning brightly.
“What are you?” He breathes out.
“Someone you can trust. Now let me save his life, young Pendragon.” the person snaps back, continuing to apply that strange smelling concoction.
Arthur watches as Merlin’s injury becomes inflamed, but cleaner at the same time. He watches bandages so white they could be clouds as they’re wrapped around his torso.
Merlin’s gotten so thin again. He looks almost as scrawny as when he first arrived in Camelot.
“And whose fault is that?” the figure suddenly speaks.
“What?” Questions Arthur. He never said anything.
“I asked whose fault it was that he looks like this now,” The person clarifies.
“It was some bandits. He got slashed by a sword when one slipped past me.” Arthur replies, shame creeping into his voice.
“I see. Shame for a young boy like him. He’s lost so much in so little time. No one can even see him,”
“What?” Arthur asks again, completely confused.
“Hah!” Barks the figure as they step back, “You don’t know Merlin at all. I don’t think you could even tell when he’s lying through his teeth,”
“How dare you! I know Merlin better than anyone; there’s nothing he could hide from me!” Arthur shouts out, pointing a finger at the person before him in accusation.
The figure gazes at him for a long moment before speaking, “Merlin will be well enough to travel in a day or two. You can stay until the morning, but then you’ll have to return to your camp.
Arthur remains silent a moment longer.
“Alright,” He says finally, “Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.”
“Oh you wouldn’t last a month without him by your side, kind of romantic actually,” The figure laughs as they approach a small cauldron in a corner of the room.
Arthur scoffs and says, “I highly doubt that,”
The figure only hums as they ladle soup into two small wooden bowls.
“I would!” Arthur insists upon the figure’s indifferent reaction.
“Sure you would, just like how you survived a dragon attack without him,”
That gives Arthur pause.
“What did you just say?” He questions.
The figure doesn't reply at first, only pulls out another stool and places it across from the original one they sat in.
Once seated, they gesture for Arthur to take a seat. When Arthur refuses they sigh, “I’ll tell you, but only if you rest. Merlin does not need to be worried over you when he is still injured and recovering.
Conceding to this point, Arthur sits down and takes the bowl from them.
The figure takes a couple bites before looking up to see Arthur staring at them.
Sighing once again, they start to explain, “I know a lot about what has been, and what will be. Not all paths diverge or collide in the same way, but yours, right now, is diverging from the intended track.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with the dragon?” Arthur says, getting irritated by the sidetrack.
“Yes, yes, the dragon. A dragon’s heart is on its left, not its right. The blow you struck to Kilgharrah has healed by now.”
Arthur feels horror overtake his body. The Dragon isn’t dead? Then…how is he alive right now?
“How…Why did it leave then?” Arthur has no idea why he’s asking this person, but he also thinks they may have an answer.
“Why, the last dragonlord of course,” they comment nonchalantly.
“The last dragonlord is dead, I watched him die.” Arthur says.
The figure only shakes their head.
“No,” They say, “You watched his father die. The last dragonlord has come into his power now,”
“What are you trying to say?” Arthur asks, not understanding what the person sitting in front of him is trying to imply.
“Oh you dollop head,”
“HEY!”
“Oh shut up!” The figure shouts, “You are so unobservant you don’t even realize when Merlin has lost someone.”
“What has that got to do with the last dragonlord?” Arthur says exasperatedly.
“Arthur…Balinor was Merlin’s father,”
There’s a heavy silence that stretches between the two people in the room.
“No!” Arthur laughs out nervously, “Merlin, a dragonlord? Do you take me for a fool?”
“No, you are no fool. Even you can’t deny this truth; I will not allow it.” The figure says, placing their empty bowl onto the ground next to them and clasping their hands together between their knees.
“Okay, even if this was true, which it’s not, that would mean Merlin has magic. Could you think of anyone less likely to be magical?” Arthur stands up and laughs shakily, watching as the figure remains silent.
“Are you saying it’s true?” He asks, stepping forward.
“Yes, but you must try to understand why he did not tell you,” The figure replies, barely moving.
“Understand?! He kept this from me for months! He’s…HE’S a sorcerer. God, how could I be so foolish?” Arthur collapses back onto the stool he was given and puts his head into his hands.
“Yes, you were. But so was Merlin,” The figure continues.
“What ever do you mean?” Arthur sighs into his hands.
“Merlin chose to stay by you, even when he was hurt. Even when he was scared for his life, scared for yours, he stayed by your side and fought to protect you to the end.”
“How do you know all this?” Arthur asks again, “How could you possibly know how he feels?”
“I told you, I am a reader.” The figure replies, “Call me as such please,”
“Reader of what?”
“Reader of stories, reader of songs, reader of worlds. It doesn’t matter right now; what matters is that you are an idiot, and I came to help.” The Reader replies.
“Are you saying you caused this? That you hurt him?” Arthur was suddenly angry that this person might’ve dared to cause Merlin pain just to get to him.
“No, no, of course not. I’m just saying I took an opportunity to help because of my frustrations.”
“And what could you possibly be frustrated by in my life?” Arthur huffs.
“How much you hurt Merlin.”
There’s another painfully tense silence.
“I’ve never hurt him.” Arthur defends.
“Never? Not only is that not true, but you know it.”
“I would hardly think a small punch would count for that,” Arthur scoffs out.
“Ah so you do know of something you did.”
“It just didn’t seem to matter,” Arthur shrugs off, glancing back to where Merlin is laying asleep on the bed. Did Merlin mind?
“He doesn’t usually, but it’s the other things you do that hurt him,”
Arthur whips back around, “Did you just read my mind?” He’s a little panicky at this point.
“I am a reader” The figure grins before sobering. “In all honesty, I only know some things, others are lost to me.”
“That is…very unsettling,” Arthur shudders.
“I know, which is kind of why it’s fun.”
“So this is fun to you?” Arthur grits out.
“Yes, but that’s besides the point.”
“Fine. How have I been hurting Merlin?” Arthur asks, huffing out a breath in obvious annoyance.
“With your words.”
“My words?” Arthur questions, confused.
“Yes. Every time you make a remark about magic, Merlin is hurt.”
Arthur hadn’t even considered that, hadn’t had time to consider that. He didn’t even notice Merlin’s reactions to his words during those times, too preoccupied by what had caused them. He called magic evil in front of him. He had called Merlin evil right to his face, and Merlin had smiled.
Arthur groans in the realization of his mistakes. “How can he even put up with me?”
“Because he loves you, just as you love him,”
“Of course I love him; he’s my friend,”
The figure gives a wane smile. “If that is how you want to think about it for now.”
Another silence stretches as the Reader gets up and begins to pull out blankets from a chest at the foot of the bed. Arthur watches them set a couple in one corner of the room before piling the rest onto the floor next to him.
Arthur looks at the blankets, or more appropriately furs, piled around the room. He reaches out to touch one of them and finds them incredibly soft and plush, the likes of which have not even made it to the castle in Camelot.
He drapes one around his shoulders, then looks over to where Merlin is laying, and decides to drape the rest over him. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it's the need to see him happy, but Arthur finds himself wanting to give Merlin better treatment these days.
He thinks back on what the Reader said, how Merlin loved him. Did they really mean it in a way that was romantic? Merlin never thought of him that way, couldn’t think of him that way. They were both men.
But…if the Reader knew of something he didn’t, if maybe the future was different, would he want Merlin to love him like that?
When he thought of how much Merlin meant to him, how much it hurt to see Merlin in love with Morgana, how much he wanted him by his side…it was obvious.
It was more than what he felt for Guinevere, as ashamed as he was to say that. Was it possible to be in love with more than one person, much less a man?
Uther would kill him if he knew.
But what if he didn’t?
If what the Reader said was true, then he and Merlin could have…something together, even if it could not be said out loud. Merlin was already by his side at all times so it wouldn’t even be suspicious.
“You’re musing are obvious, young prince,” The Reader’s voice interrupts his thoughts.
Arthur startles at the interruption, then glares at them.
“Must you do that?” He groans.
“No, but it’s funny!” Laughs the Reader. “I love watching the gay panic on your face; it fills something deep in my soul,” They let out another chuckle.
“Gay…panic?” Arthur wonders out loud.
“Yes. Don’t worry, you’re not the only knight that’ll fall for our little wizard there.”
“He’s not your’s” Arthur snaps quickly, much to his chagrin and the Reader’s delight.
“That’s right, he’s yours.” Teases the Reader, poking the fire since it had begun to die down.
“He’s-He’s not mine…he’s…Merlin,” Arthur sputters in denial.
The Reader lets out a ‘Tsk’ sound before saying, “Denial is not a pretty look on you. Why don’t you and Morgana just take your guys’ gay sunshine characters and live happily?”
Arthur sobers at the mention of his father’s ward.
“What do you know about Morgana?” He asks, suddenly serious.
“I know you will find her.” the Reader says. “And that she loves Lady Guinevere,”
Those two pieces of information leave Arthur speechless for a minute.
“She loves…Lady Guinevere?” He finally gets out.
“Oh yes, very much so. Didn’t you see how distraught she was when Guinevere was kidnapped? Though…she might get jealous of Lancelot and you when she finds out. Guinevere is a very lovable girl,”
“I can’t believe this,” Arthur groans.
“You don’t have to believe it, Arthur; you just have to choose the actions which benefit the most people.”
“That sounds strangely like a prophecy,” Arthur pries.
“Oh I am no prophet!” The Reader exclaims, “I merely know some spoilers. Your life is quite interesting.”
“Thanks,” Arthur says dryly.
The Reader laughs softly as they arrange the pile of blankets they had set in the corner into a makeshift bed. He watches as they pull out a roll of strange fabric, then proceed to blow into a black knob on the end.
“What’s that?” He finally asks, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Oh, it’s an air mattress. I brought it from home,”
Air Mattress huh? “It’s very interesting. Are things like this common where you’re from?” He asks, looking to get more information about this mysterious person.
“For some.” Comes the short reply.
Well, that was a dead end. The only time this person seemed to be willing to talk was when Arthur was asking about Merlin or himself.
Maybe that was the way to play this.
“Could you tell me a little bit more about Merlin and his…er…magic?” Arthur finally says.
The Reader pauses for a second in arranging the blankets before speaking.
“Merlin’s life is one of tragedy and happiness.” they say.
That was a contradiction if ever Arthur heard one.
“And could you elaborate on how that’s possible?” He bites out.
The Reader looks up at him and locks their gaze with his. “Within the time Merlin has been your servant,” They start, “He has had to bury 3 people he cared about. Yet, at the same time, he finds joy in your presence despite the danger you pose to him. If that isn’t tragic happiness, I don’t know what is.”
Arthur sets his jaw at the harsh words. “Who did he lose?” He breathes out in a low voice.
“He lost his lover, his friend, and his father,”
…silence stretches…
“His lover?”
“Her name was Freya, and she died two days after he met her.”
“That’s so soon,”
“Yes, he defended her from you so she could die in peace. He took her to Avalon.”
“But, I never knew a girl named Freya…how did I..?” Arthur starts to say, then cuts himself off with the look the Reader is giving him.
“She was cursed. She was the girl cursed to transform into a beast and kill.”
Arthur’s face crumples as it dawns on him just who it was, and how Merlin had been acting during that incident. He was happy, giddy, and unusually absent minded. He was stealing food. Food for the girl.
“God I was an idiot…” He groans.
“Yes you were. You didn’t even realize how many times he’s saved your life. How many times he said goodbye.”
“Merlin’s saved my life?” Arthur asks. He’s heard this before, heard it from Merlin himself even, but now he’s more inclined to take it seriously.
The figure seems to pause for a moment, seemingly contemplating what to tell him.
Finally they speak up. “One of the first instances was in the cave; he guided you with a shining light.”
Arthur remembers that night; he always had wondered who saved him then. He finds that he’s glad it was Merlin.
The Reader continues: “He has shielded you from swords, always watching your back in battle. He has speared monsters with his magic, such as the Questing Beast. He has drunk poison for you. He…he was betrayed by you, when a con man came to Camelot. Merlin stayed by your side even as your trust in him was shattered by a few quick words.”
Arthur remembers all of that too. The strange instances when he’d turn around and find an enemy that had fallen to a spear or fallen just before reaching him. That happened with the Troll too…It was Merlin, always Merlin.
“I can’t believe what he’s done for me.” Arthur says, feeling his heart throb at the realization of how much Merlin has done for him, for an enemy. Uther was his enemy, enemy of his people, yet he protected Arthur, Uther’s son, with his very life. This dedication has never been seen by Arthur from any of his knights, regardless of bravery or loyalty.
“He was willing to die for you,” The Reader goes on, “He met Nimueh when the Questing Beast almost killed you. He offered his own life to sway the old religion, and he came to say goodbye.”
“What? When did that…” Arthur trails off in horror. “Oh god…he was saying goodbye? I thought he was just being an oaf like always.” Arthur brings a hand to where he can feel his heart beating. He clenches it into a fist. His heart is only beating today because Merlin was willing to die.
“The unicorn’s test too,” Arthur says, starting to look back at all the memories he’s shared with Merlin so far.
“There were so many times he said something…” He finally mutters.
The Reader smiles at him. They shrug and say, “Now you know. That was my purpose here. To help you.” They give him another smile.
“Ar-thur?” Comes a weak voice from the bed.
“Merlin?!” Arthur exclaims, instantly on his knees beside Merlin’s place.
“How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?” The Reader questions, standing up to look over the two men slightly entwined with each other.
“I’m feeling quite fine, but may I ask who you are?” Merlin asks, trying and failing to sit up, ending up on his elbows instead.
“I am a Reader, and please call me as such,” They reply.
“A Reader, nice to meet you,” Merlin says as he looks around a little breathlessly, “Mind telling me where we are?” He raises his eyebrows as he asks.
The Reader lets out a soft laugh, “It’s nice to see you still have your spirit. Arthur and I were just talking about you,”
“All good things I hope?” Merlin directs the question to Arthur, who just stares at him.
Merlin furrows his brows at Arthur’s look. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?!” He worriedly asks.
“No, no! Nothing like that!” Arthur exclaims. “The Reader,” He gestures at said person, who is currently scooping another bowl of soup for Merlin, “took us in to help with your wound.”
Merlin looks down and seems a little surprised to see a sword mark there.
“Huh,” He comments, “I don’t even feel it…”
“That’s the painkillers talking.” The Reader comments as they hand him the now-full bowl of soup.
“I see,” Merlin says as he takes a sip. “This is good. Thanks.” He raises the bowl in a semi-toast as he says this.
“It’s nice to meet you Merlin. You’re a very impressive sorcerer.” The Reader says, turning to sit back on their stool.
Merlin’s eyes go wide as he chokes on his soup, and he panickily turns to Arthur. “I don’t know what they’re talking about! I don’t have magic, you know this, I-”
Merlin gets interrupted by Arthur raising a hand to stop him from speaking.
“I know everything, Merlin,” he says. The Reader coughs from their seat.
Arthur rolls his eyes before correcting himself, “I know almost everything. And…it’s okay.”
Merlin looks terrified as he looks from Arthur to The Reader and back again.
“I-I don’t know what to say…” He lets out finally.
“That’s okay.” Arthur says, hesitating slightly before reaching out a hand to lay it on Merlin’s shoulder.
“I know about your magic, and the ways you-you saved me. Saved Camelot, Merlin.” He says, looking Merlin directly in the eyes.
“Arthur…” Merlin breathes, staring said man down. “I was born with magic; it’s part of me.”
“It’s okay. I’ve-I’ve realized how much you’ve done for me and the kingdom. I’m sorry I couldn’t recognize that sooner. And thank you, for everything.” Arthur says, breaking his gaze away, but leaving his hand where it is.
Merlin feels his eyes tear up, and he places his hand on top of Arthur’s.
“I would do it all over again,” he says as he sets down the bowl of soup and uses his free hand to touch Arthur’s face.
“This is more than I could’ve ever imagined hearing from you, Arthur.”
Aruth looks Merlin in the eye and smiles, “Well, you’ll be hearing it a lot more from now on. Though, I’m still calling you an idiot when you trip over your own shoes.”
Both Merlin and Arthur burst into laughter at that.
Merlin’s grin is impossibly wide as he says, “I’d expect nothing less, you dollop-headed prince!”
They both burst into peals of laughter yet again, holding onto each other as they do so.
When their laughter finally dies down, they remember they’re not alone.
Arthur looks at The Reader and says, “Thank you for the help you have given us,” and Merlin nods along with the statement.
The Reader grins, and stands.
“I appreciate that.” They say, “I am excited to see what happens now. Don’t disappoint me.”
In the next instant they snap their fingers.
—
Arthur sits bolt upright on his bedroll, panting at the stress of the dream he just had. Next to him Merlin also sits up, a half scream on his lips.
They look at each other as they both have a realization.
“The-The dream…” Arthur asks, pointing a shaking finger at his head.
“The Reader,” Merlin confirms and asks at the same time.
“Do you really have magic?”
Merlin hesitates, then nods slowly.
Arthur laughs and falls back onto his bedroll. “It was all true, wasn’t it?” he asks with his arm over his eyes.
“I mean, I think so. I feel like I wasn’t there for most of it,” Merlin retorts.
There’s a small silence between the two men.
“Merlin?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I love you.”
“...WHAT?!”