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“Take my life instead, spare that of my king.” Merlin’s voice echoed through the near empty throne room with the authority of a man several positions above his servant status. He had burst into the dim room without warning, eyes glowing gold and expression set into a murderous scowl.
Hades had barely moved in his throne, let alone stood to greet him. Clearly, the God saw no threat in an enraged warlock trespassing in his domain. “Why should I listen to the pleas of a mere mortal?” The King of the underworld asked, his voice never rising above a calm question.
Arthur stood stock still before the throne, panic thrummed through his veins. He hadn’t been anxious when he’d died and appeared here before Hades and his wife, but now that Merlin was in the room making demands to beings far too powerful to comprehend, he was definitely on edge. What was the idiot doing?
Persephone shifted on her throne, the twin to her husband, eyes alight with mirth. “Oh but my love, this is no mere mortal.” She purred, before motioning to Merlin, “look closer.”
Arthur stilled as the great God lent forward in his throne, eyes raking over Merlin’s defiant stance. His intelligent eyes narrowed, following something invisible to the naked eye. Realisation abruptly swept across his expression as he collapsed back in his throne. “Chronos?”
“The god of time.” Persephone helpfully supplied, hands drawing patterns in her husband’s shoulder.
“Merlin actually.” The nitwit corrected.
“To your friends perhaps.” Persephone agreed, “but you go by many names, don’t you old friend? Chronos. Emrys. Warlock.”
“Liar.” Hades helpfully interjected, earning him a playful swat from his queen. He waved her off. “So you come back here, after centuries, to plead the life of one mortal king.”
“Arthur is the Once and Future King.”
“We know that.” Persephone assured him.
Merlin pressed on, taking another confident step towards the thrones. “Then you know how important he is to Albion.”
Hades responded this time. “I know that I am to guard him until he is needed.”
Arthur swallowed the urge to shiver. He didn’t want to remain in this dark place a moment longer. He could feel the souls past all around him, breathing in unison. Soon, he would be joining them.
Merlin seemed determined not to let that happen however as he kept talking, kept negotiating as if he had power in this strange realm. “Does Lady Fate /require/ he stays here until it is time.”
“What are you getting at, old man?”
Merlin bristled but did not lose the politeness of his tone. “I’m just curious. Surely, as a family man yourself you would sympathise. Arthur has people waiting for him back home. An entire Kingdom that needs him.”
Persephone piped up, cutting Merlin off. “But what about you Emrys?” She shifted in her throne, eyes kind but full of unspeakable knowledge. “Whilst your king grows old in the embrace of the sun, what will become of you?”
“That is irrelevant-”
“Your soul will be cut adrift.” Hades interjected, “you’ll lose yourself in the underworld. Even as a God, if you agree to this deal you’ll be in my domain. Is that what you want, Chronos?”
“Merlin.”
“I’ll do it.”
“/Mer/lin!”
“My one purpose is to keep Arthur safe. Everything I’ve sacrificed until now has been for him. To give up now would prove it all meaningless.” It was clear Merlin wasn’t thinking straight. His duty had overshadowed his self-preservation. His stubbornness to serve clouding his better judgement.
“It won’t be meaningless. I’ll come back, you said so yourself.” Arthur argued, panic making him try to reach for his friend only for his dead fingers to phase straight through him. “If you do this, nothing will tether you to us. I’ll lose you.”
Merlin fixed him with a look that burned with years of suppressed devotion and determination. “I’m willing to take that chance, for you.” He said it like a promise, but Arthur saw it as a dare.
“I forbid it. And that’s an order.” Arthur barked even though he knew it had fallen on deaf ears. Merlin was wearing that expression he always did when he was planning to ignore whatever advice or demand Arthur had directed at him. He’d always been stubborn like that. But now more than ever, Arthur pleaded he would listen, just this once.
“Good show!” Persephone cackled with a mighty clap of her hands. She slumped back in her throne, head tipped back in mirth, causing the two men to cease fighting. Her husband watched her giggle with nothing but love in his gaze. As if he were staring at the stars on a clear night; the look was private but no less adoring.
“Do you remember when we were like this Hades?” She breathed, rolling her head to gaze upon her husband with equal amounts of adoration.
Hades chuckled softly. “So young, so full of love.”
“Love?” Arthur spluttered before he could bite his tongue.
“It’s not like that.” Merlin tried to insist.
“I do love a good fairytale. What do you say, love? Why don’t we give them a fighting chance?” Persephone proposed, her hand creeping between their thrones to weave her fingers in the King’s limp hand. Hades looked upon her as if he would agree only to keep that smile forever aimed at him.
“Young love should always be tested.” He agreed.
“He’s married!” Merlin continued to argue, genuine sweat beading on his forehead.
“People marry all the time.” Persephone stated dismissively. “It’s the bond you share that truly holds binding force, not a metal circle you decorate your heart vein with. Now-” She gracefully rose from her throne, skirts billowing on an invisible breeze.
Merlin took half a step in front of Arthur’s spirit, hands clenched at his sides despite the fact he knew he could never hope to raise them in time. The harsh stare Hades shot his way kept him firmly in line. For all his unspeakable power, Merlin was severely outmatched in the domain of the God of Death.
“I will graciously issue you a test.” Persephone began, voice rich with mirth. “Merlin, you must leave the underworld.”
Arthur’s eyebrows drew together in confusion as Merlin scoffed. “But Arthur-”
“Will follow you out, but,” she paused for dramatic effect, drinking in the way Merlin’s words had immediately cut off to allow her to speak. “You must never look back. His spirit will be allowed to return to his body in the living world, if you keep your promise and trust that he will follow you to freedom.”
“You may /never/ look back at him.” Hades interjected, a vicious grin playing upon his lips. “If you so much as catch a glimpse of him before he has stepped into the daylight, he will be condemned to slumber in the underworld until Albion calls on him again.”
“Do you agree with these terms Merlin?”
Merlin stalled, but resolutely did not turn to check for Arthur’s reaction, he kept his posture firmly forward as if he’d already agreed. “Arthur?” He asked instead, making the King roll his eyes. Of course Merlin would still want to check for his opinion. The cabbage head was too kind for his own good.
“It’s worth a shot.”
“Then I accept your terms.” Merlin agreed.
Persephone clapped her hands three times, every collision of her palms echoing deeper into the room. There was power in the force of her movements. More than Arthur could ever hope to replicate with his sword or Camelot’s army.
“The deal it struck.” Hades narrated.
“Good luck.” The Queen sang for the final time, spinning on her heel to sit herself back upon her throne.
Merlin floundered, not expecting the transition to be so abrupt or so soon. “So um.”
“Speak up boy?”
“Which way is out?”
“Oh! Knew I forgot something.” Persephone giggled before turning to her husband. “Hades? Love? Light of my life? Would you be a dear?” The God of Death merely smiled before waving his hand dismissively.
To Merlin’s left, the unforgiving rock face that made up the far wall of the throne room shuddered and collapsed, leaving behind an ominously lit hallway beyond.
Trap.
Arthur’s instincts immediately screamed, making him want to seize Merlin by the arm the moment the man stepped towards the mysterious opening. The godly couple could have easily decided to send them to their deaths together, rather than offer them a way out. Why not toy with some desperate fools for fun? It had to be boring upon that throne for all of eternity. From the short time Arthur had been on the throne, he already knew he could barely sit through a morning council session before he wanted out, let alone centuries in the same routine doing the same job. How utterly dull.
“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice helped to prompt him out of his thoughts. The warlock had already entered the small hallway, his back remaining to the throne room.
“Coming.” Arthur returned easily, not wanting Merlin to believe he had been tricked and turn back. The King at least wanted a fighting chance if he was going to play this fool’s game. Speaking of. He took a moment to bow to each of the royals in turn, uttering soft words of appreciation for their kindness, before he began to follow Merlin out of the underworld and towards the light.
“You need to keep talking to me Arthur.” Merlin pleaded as he walked on ahead. His shoulders were tense as he walked, hunched up under his large ears. Arthur would have found it endearing if he weren’t so concerned.
“What exactly is there to talk about Merlin? The weather.”
“Just anything.” The pure desperation in his tone made Arthur’s stomach lurch.
“Even council politics.”
The warlock snorted, but kept moving. “I’d take even that right now. I just need to know that you’re still there.”
“I’m not going anywhere Merlin.”
“You said that before.” The warlock helpfully replied, to which Arthur huffed. He’d been dying before. It was hardly his fault that he hadn't been able to uphold his promise. He told Merlin as such and grimaced at the pained note within his manservant’s laugh.
“Did they say anything against touching?” Arthur asked instead, eager to change the subject.
“Just sight. I can’t see you. I have to trust that you’ll follow me, after everything.”
Arthur nodded despite the predicament. He had plenty of thoughts but no means of vocalising them.
It was symbolic almost, what the Queen had decided to be their test. Merlin had spent his service at Camelot chasing after Arthur, protecting the King behind his back and proving his undying loyalty, and now the tables were turned.
Merlin had shown everything to Arthur, and the King had accepted it, magic and all. But that was the acceptance of a dead man who wouldn’t live to see those words put to use. Now was his chance to prove to Merlin and himself that their bond went both ways. Arthur would follow Merlin to the ends of the earth. And deep down, Arthur knew that thought to be true.
But still, he wanted Merlin to believe it too.
“Take off your neckerchief and put it over your eyes.”
“What? How am I gonna navigate the way out if I can’t bloody see?”
“I’ll guide you.”
“This isn’t a game Arthur.”
“Do you trust me?”
Merlin paused, his steps faulting for half a second. Hands twitching at his sides, debating whether to follow the request or stay put.
He stopped walking but did not turn. “Yes Arthur, I trust you.”
“Then do what you’re told for once you stubborn clotpole.”
“That’s my word.”
“/Merlin/.”
“Alright, alright.” He laughed. “I’m doing it.” And he did. With shaking hands, the warlock untied his neckerchief from his throat and refolded it so it made a thick blindfold over his eyes. He rested it over his ears to ensure it wouldn’t slip and tied the back tightly. Arthur was pretty sure he heard the soft utterance of a spell to ensure that the cloth did not betray them, but allowed it to pass.
“Ready?” Arthur asked, letting Merlin fuss over the placement as much as he wanted. There was no time limit. He could afford to look at Merlin for a moment more.
Merlin swallowed, his voice unnaturally quiet. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” Arthur replied, “can I take your hand Merlin?”
“Yes.”
They simultaneously held their breaths as Arthur did just that. In truth, there had been no warning against touching one another, but Arthur still dreaded to think they had been tricked somehow. No magic whisked him away. No booming voice rumbled from the depth of the throne room deep below that the challenge had been failed.
Their hands brushed, and Arthur was still there. They breathed. Arthur took Merlin’s hand more firmly, remarking that he could hold him now rather than pass through him. Hungrily, Arthur gripped onto the warmth of Merlin’s calloused palm for dear life, and then they continued on up the path. Arthur made sure to lead Merlin along the smoothest path he could find, eyes continuously flickering from the light up ahead to the rocky ground.
To his credit, the warlock remained mostly on his feet. Boots keeping a sure grip on the uneven terrain even without his sight. It was endearing in a strange way, how completely and utterly Merlin trusted Arthur with himself, even in this vulnerable state. All he needed was soft words of encouragement and a firm hand to hold and he was more than willing to go anywhere Arthur led him. The King could be leading him to the pyre for all he knew, but Merlin did not care.
Arthur had no idea what he’d done to muster such undying loyalty within his friend, but mentally vowed to do everything in his power to be worthy of such unfaltering love and trust. The Gods knew Merlin deserved no less after all.
“We’re nearly there.” Arthur declared, hope flaring in his chest as the light at the end of the tunnel grew gradually larger. He could see the green of trees beyond, and hear the call of the birds from the forest. Freedom was within his grasp. It couldn’t be this easy, could it?
“Fantastic, I don’t think I’ll have any toes left if it’s much further. My nails are gonna be black and blue with how many times I’ve stubbed them.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Hey! I came all the way down here to save you from an eternal slumber, and this is the thanks I get?”
“You’re right.” Arthur found himself agreeing, the giddiness from the smell of the river beyond fueling his emotions. “Thank you Merlin, for everything. Known and unknown.”
“Are you dying or something?”
“No more than I already have.”
“You’re funny.” Merlin mused sarcastically.
On another day, Arthur would have tackled him for such disrespect, but not today, not now.
The tunnel had run out. Wind swept across the earth to greet them, making the grass bow as Arthur, the Once and Future King, stepped out of the underworld, his hand still firmly clasped in Merlin’s. He sucked in a greedy breath of warm, spring air, feeling his still lungs start to expand and contract with the motion. The sunlight kissed his cheeks, welcoming him home.
“Your hand is warming up.” Merlin whispered absentmindedly, his thumb brushing over the back of Arthur’s fingers. The King turned his attention from the world around him to the man who had bent over backwards to ensure he stayed in it.
Merlin stood oblivious before him, his grin stupidly wide and bright, warmer than any summer sunlight. His cheeks bunched the blindfold up over his eyes, pushing it into his hairline, whilst his ears stuck out comically either side of his face. He was the picture of a fool, but Arthur felt himself starring much like Hades had gazed upon Persephone.
It was too early to call it love. Arthur knew that for sure. He felt very strongly for Merlin, but he could not yet distinguish what he felt from gratitude and relief of being alive again. It would be unfair to spring such unlabelled feelings upon Merlin after such an exhausting day afterall.
Besides, he was still married. He had Gwen to go home to. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least discuss it with her first. But those were thoughts for later.
He was alive. He was free. And Merlin was right beside him, as he had always been.
“Can I take off your blindfold, Merlin?” Arthur, ever the gentleman, asked.
Merlin’s hand clenched tightly around his for a moment, his bright smile melting into a shallow frown. “It worked then? You’re alive again?”
“Started drawing breath the moment the sun touched my skin.” Arthur reassured him, but Merlin didn’t seem convinced. In contrast, he’d begun to chew on his lower lip, caught in the limbo between wanting to check Arthur over and make sure for himself, and keeping the blindfold on for longer to make sure they’d done everything correctly. Arthur could sympathise.
Words would only reassure the warlock so much tho. So instead of wasting his breath, the King took Merlin’s free hand in his - the warlock refused to let the King’s other hand go - and brought it to the side of his neck over his pulsepoint. With his armour and chainmail on, it was highly unlikely either of them would feel a heartbeat through all that metal. So instead, he carefully pushed Merlin’s fingers into his fluttering pulsepoint beneath his jaw.
Merlin’s fingers flexed at the abrupt texture of day-old stubble beneath his fingers but quickly adapted. His palm curved into the shape of Arthur’s throat. His years of experience as a physician shone through as he expertly found the King’s pulse point and applied a healthy amount of pressure.
Merlin visibly sagged at the rhythmic flutter beneath his fingertips.
“It worked.” He breathed.
Arthur hummed in agreement. “You did it Merlin.”
“We did it. I wouldn’t have been able to walk all the way out without you guiding me. I was far too paranoid that I was leaving you behind. I couldn’t-”
“/You/ did fantastically Merlin.” Arthur insisted, desperately wanting to convey how deeply he believed those words. “Can I see you Merlin?”
Merlin nodded, eagerly now that he was sure Arthur wouldn’t disappear within seconds of their eyes meeting. Arthur smiled and let both of the Warlock’s hands go. Merlin frowned at the withdrawal but didn’t complain. His own hands never moved. The hand that had been clasping Arthur’s immediately found the King’s waist, bony fingers winding into his belt, holding on tightly.
Arthur smiled at the action, but wasted no more time. With precision, he expertly untied Merlin’s neckerchief from his face and allowed the red fabric to drop from his eyes, revealing the gorgeous blue irises beneath.
Arthur realised he had been previously mistaken. He had believed he was the one gazing at Merlin as if he were the stars, mirroring Hades’ adoration for his wife, when instead Merlin looked at Arthur like he was the moon. As if he were the only one in sight with the light of the sun to back it up.
Perhaps the Queen had been right, they were a pair of lovesick fools.