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chasingshhadows · 5 years

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on michael & maria

Yup, Imma talk about it.

I’m unfortunately well aware of the ~discourse~ on this particular topic, but I have Opinions and Feelings so I’m gonna share them. In this post, I’m gonna follow their relationship from the beginning of the show through episode 1.11 (Champagne Supernova). (The events of 1.13 are a topic that I’ll be addressing separately and a bit more in-depth.)

I am in what appears to be a minority of Malex Roswell fans that thinks the show did a really great job of setting up and seeing through the relationship with Michael and Maria, both in the ways it became physical and the ways it became emotional.

Before I begin, I want to emphasize something about this relationship that seems to bother a lot of people or maybe just go unnoticed: Much of the development between these two, while absolutely present, is not overt and oft times isn’t even on-screen. I get why and how this bothers people because it’s understandable to want to see character development on-screen and not have to infer it from context or subtext, or have to rely on people like me to do the work of going through the season and finding it. Plus, that means it likely falls through the cracks for most casual viewers who don’t take the time to process and analyze the meanings behind what they’re seeing. I get that, and understand that it’s frustrating.

That said, I’m here to play with everything the show has given us, and that includes the subtleties of the Michael & Maria dynamic. I’m a master extrapolator ok.

And just a ~warning~ to the shippers reading this: This post is about Michael & Maria and their relationship and how it builds and grows. This is not an extended diss post on Maria or Miluca, so if that’s what you’re looking for, this post is not for you. That said, I would be remiss in not acknowledging to any Miluca fans reading this that I am a hardcore Malex shipper and can’t guarantee that my bias in that way doesn’t leak through. Just - you’ve been warned.

Also to clarify - when I use the word “relationship,” I do not mean Relationship like, couple. I mean, any two people that interact with each other have a relationship with each other.

TL;DR: Michael and Maria were and are far closer as friends than most people seem to believe before they became involved. The journey of them hooking up, catching feelings, and coming together is marked by progressively stronger signs of affection and attraction. The development is there, if you care to look for it.

And now that my thesis is clear, let me show my work.

Anyway. Let’s start at the beginning.

We learn right as Michael is introduced that he spends a lot of time at the Wild Pony, and that getting arrested for getting drunk and getting into fights there is a common occurrence for him. As Maria runs this bar, this means the two of them spend a lot of time together, likely at odds considering she’s probably the one calling the cops.

The first interaction they have as characters isn’t an interaction at all, and seems to contradict the last assumption, at least in one way. Because Maria sees Alex looking at Guerin and the first thing she says about it?

She acknowledges he’s “rifraff” but then immediately says she thinks he’s hot. And then at Alex’s dubious look, she tries to justify. Which means that’s something she’s noticed, and the “sex in a truck” is something she’s thought about. And she and Alex have an easy enough relationship even after a decade spent mostly apart that she feels comfortable bringing that up. She’s gossiping about cute boys with her long lost best friend and Guerin is the cute boy on her mind right now.

This, my friends, is what we in the biz like to call foreshadowing.

Now, something that is entirely not stated but is at least tangentially hinted at: Michael is a punchy drunk that intentionally picks fights at the Wild Pony. Now, who do we know who appears to also spend a lot of time at the Wild Pony and are also walking “Hit Me” signs? That’s right, Racist Wyatt & Racist Hank. I’m not saying it happens every night or even every week, but I have to imagine at least a few times over the years, Michael decided to take out his dramatic cowboy angst on the two racist assholes spouting off in the corner. And regardless of her distaste for the violence and her annoyance at needing to call the cops again, I have to imagine that Maria at least noticed that Michael is throwing punches for the right reasons sometimes. (and again, none of this is explicitly stated, but all of the pieces are laid out and it doesn’t take a casual viewer to put them together).

We first see them actually interact at the bar during the blackout and it is hella flirtatious; they’re both smirking, leaning forward, teasing. It’s playful.

More than that though, it speaks to a deeply ingrained familiarity, friendliness, and banter. Michael swipes a bottle from behind the bar - an expensive bottle, apparently - as if that’s just a normal thing for him to do. And Maria doesn’t even try to stop him - sure, she Hey!’s him, but her only objection is, “that’s a health code violation” as she goes about cleaning up the bar and collecting glasses.

Again, I know this is subtle, but it says so much about their relationship before this moment. That Maria lets him grab the bottle. That he hears that he’s caught and just…. continues opening the bottle while making a teasing comment about her power-outage decorations. That she just watches as he takes a drink straight from the bottle. The soft, teasing “Didn’t I ban you for life?”

This isn’t behavior she would allow from just any customer and especially not one who we’re led to believe is a Problem Customer. And their conversation about his tab and such indicates they aren’t like, best friends or anything, but they’re on familiar enough territory that they can joke and tease and steal liquor like it’s habit, like it’s just how they are.

And remember - they both grew up in this town. They’ve probably known each since they were 11 (when Michael was sent back to Roswell) but definitely knew each other in high school. I doubt they ever hung out or even really interacted all that much but they have that awkward “I know too much about you because we’ve been sharing space for 15 years” thing going on.

And now Maria has watched him make a valiant attempt to drink himself to death for half a dozen years and bury his sorrows in anyone that’ll have him. She’s smart, she’s learned her lesson with Chad, she doesn’t just want to be another notch in Guerin’s bedpost.

But, he’s cute and he’s safe, so she flirts.

I mean look at this:

Like fuck, she’s practically purring.

Michael is clearly on board with that mood. This is sexy, this is him fully ready to hear exactly what he can do for Maria, this is his mind in the gutter.

He makes a joke - in a super sultry voice, mind you - about being her least favorite customer, to which she laughs while passing him glasses for the tequila (yes, it’s mezcal, I know) he stole.

This is all very friendly, y’all. And that doesn’t mean they’re the braid-each-other’s-hair, tell-me-all-your-deepest-secrets type of friends, but they are friends. Not best friends, but casual friends. Almost a coworkerly-type of teasing affection. They’re two people wholly comfortable with the other, they’re fond of each other. They tease each other but there’s never any bite - it’s playful and fun and easy. They sit on opposite sides of that bar at least several times a week and yeah, Maria has to call the cops when shit gets rowdy, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate Guerin’s personality and presence, or that he doesn’t enjoy the teasing banter with the hottie behind the bar that he knows he has no chance with.

From there, Isobel steals the floor, and Maria is annoyed and not taking shit. She makes a crack about Michael’s drinking, and Isobel makes her move.

And then Maria sees something I’m sure she’s seen before when he’s with Isobel but is still at odds with the Guerin in her mind - she sees Michael being soft, tender, and concerned.

And this prompts Maria, for what I believe is the only time in the first season, to call him Michael.

Jump to the day when both Isobel and Mimi go into institutions. Maria has reached her limit. She’s strung out, she’s had to fall back on her last resort because nothing else has worked and she’s feeling like a failure; she’s feeling lost because her mom has been her rock her entire life. And Michael is actually in a similar place. He’s been trying to protect Isobel, his own rock, from herself for so long, he’s let that destroy himself, his hope, his future, and now she’s put herself in the hands of people he vehemently distrusts because he failed.

So, they’re both here to drown their sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. And again, let’s talk about the fact that Michael gets an entirely different treatment than any other customer that might walk through that door. Because what she sees in that mirror? It’s a kindred spirit. It’s a broken man who’s been crumbling on a stool in her bar for years and who looks just like she feels: like he’s just a step away from shattering.

And this is also Michael Guerin, with whom she shares an easy camaraderie, who she knows can be soft. So, she lets him stay.

One drink. No talking.

She passes him the bottle and he sighs in relief because Maria is giving him exactly what he needs right now. To not be alone with his thoughts. To lose himself a little bit in a haze, to let the alcohol blur the self-hatred swirling in his mind.

And Maria, Maria doesn’t wanna crack. She doesn’t want to fall apart, because she can’t, because it’s her job to hold it together - for her mom, for her friends, for this town. She’s supposed to be the fun, happy friend, the bartender, the good time.

She’s not allowed to break.

But she knows if she opens her mouth, she will. So when Guerin starts to thank her, she shuts him right down.

Notice that she calls him Guer? Not Guerin. Not even Michael. But Guer. That’s soft, that’s familiar. That’s a nickname, and it rolls off her tongue like that’s normal. Like she’s used it before.

It’s these things, y’all, the little things that truly show us the depth of this relationship. I’ve seen said more times than I can count that Michael and Maria’s connection, their friendship, him “knowing her”, her feelings - that they all came out of nowhere. That these two went 10 years without liking each other or being attracted to each other and ~one day~ it all just changed. And that’s just not true. This thing between them, it’s been there, simmering, slowly building. The signs are there if you know what you’re looking for, if you know what it looks like before two people that know each other fall into bed, before they catch feelings.

And y’all, these two? Are a veritable construction zone of signs.

What happens next is pivotal to this relationship. Because Maria was right, opening her mouth was a catalyst and she starts to crack, and then loses it completely.

And this, this is new for Michael. Maria never cracks, never cries. She’s a firecracker and a half, fierce and strong, she commands the room, and never shows weakness. It takes him a moment to catch up to what he’s seeing and then-

This is so soft. He lets out a comforting “hey” as he wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close, holds her tight. Tries to give her the stability she’s clearly lacking, lets her lean on him for support.

He’s there for her. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t try to tell her it’s ok. Doesn’t cross any boundaries. He’s just there, just present, and lets her take what she needs from him in that moment.

This, again, proves the depth of their bond. Their friendship. Maria wouldn’t let any deadbeat from the bar touch her like that, especially not in a moment of weakness. And Michael wouldn’t offer unconditional comfort to anyone either - he’s not cruel by any means, but few people rank high enough to deserve his kindness. But here, Maria not only lets Michael hold her, she leans in, grabs at his jacket, settles in close.

She trusts him, and he cares for her.

And you can see even as he holds her, he’s still confused. He’s still not entirely sure what’s happening, but he pulls her closer anyway. Because she needs it.

This a turning point in their relationship. This is the moment they go from banter friends to comfort friends. The moment their friendship deepens from something fun to something warm. Something real.

A few weeks later, they’ve both come off their respective cliffs. Maria has come to him for help. And as we learn at the end of the episode, there’s an emotional attachment to her request. This sign is special, this sign specifically is important to her - and she’s trusting Guerin to fix it.

Now we know that “no once can fix a car as fast as” Michael, and that Isobel, at least, has a habit of calling him to fix things for her, but what this tells us is that Michael also likely has a reputation around town as a fixer, as a handy man. Enough, at least, for Maria to know Michael can fix this. And between his reputation and her experiences with him, she knows him to be dependable and reliable enough to do this for her.

They’ve fallen back into their banter because it’s easy and it’s not heavy. Because they’re still Maria and Guerin even after a moment of tenderness. Because this is natural to them.

Now, Michael says something that apparently confuses people. Because Max says, “Dude, tell me you’re not sleeping with Maria,” and Michael immediately shoots back with, “Never!” And to some, I suppose, this feels incongruous with his behavior in the next episode. And all I really have to say to that is if I truly “never” slept with any of the people I’ve said I would “never” sleep with, my List would be like…. half as long.

Anyway, Michael brings the sign to the bar later that same day. Which is significant because - remember what else is going on that day. Isobel nearly died. He’s been running all over town with Liz and worrying about losing his sister - the single most important person in his life - and still, he made time to fix Maria’s sign.

He and Max left the junkyard right after Maria dropped it off, and we saw him at the hospital, then chasing down Liz, then taking Liz to his bunker, then to the cave, then he ran back to get Isobel from the hospital.

Which means after Isobel went into the pod, Michael went back to the junkyard to fix Maria’s sign. Just as much because she needed it as because he needed it. He needed to do it, needed to not fail someone he cared about that day. Needed to have something to show to himself that he could fix things, to prove to himself he could fix Isobel.

And when he drops it off, Maria notes how fast it was, having no idea just how fast because she doesn’t know everything that happened that day. He reiterates that he could have made her a new sign, but what he means is that he wants her to know that he would have, for her. Max once said that Michael has never done anything for anyone, while we all know that that line was a flaming pile of bullshit, it’s true that Michael isn’t someone to offer his help to just anyone; he’s picky about the people deserving of his effort and he’s letting Maria know she’s one of them.

And she softens. She opens up. Explains the real reason she needs this sign. Let’s Michael see a glimpse of something she hid from her own best friend.

It gets heavy for a moment, which is a territory they’re still figuring out how to navigate. Maria “hmms” at Michael’s “beacon” comment and he aptly puts together that that’s all she wants to say on the matter. He redirects them into more familiar territory with a teasing joke to break the tension and Maria follows him there with a, “Jerk” and a poorly disguised smirk.

It’s comfortable. Easy.

Six weeks pass before we see them together again, though it’s certainly not the first time they’ve interacted, judging by the fact that Michael has racked up another bar tab.

Maria greets him coolly - whether that’s because of her mood re: her mother, or because Alex is there and Alex has already expressed discomfort at being around Guerin (see: human trio reunion scene) is unclear, but she does greet him. Even if she’s a bit prickly, he still warrants her attention just by walking in the door.

And this may be some of my own projection, but it also speaks a little to me of Maria starting to catch on - subconsciously, at least - that she might have feelings for Michael. After my own experiences with the Chads of the world, I tend to react defensively around people I start to fall for, including being actively cool around them. It’s not pulling pigtails, not quite, but more I’m-terrified-of-you-finding-out-I-have-feelings-and-rejecting-me-so-I’ll-be-extra-unfriendly-so-you-think-I-don’t-like-you.

Michael is flirting - stung, from Alex’s rejection, and trying to get lost in a distraction - but Maria lets it slide right off her.

When we see them again in Texas, it’s awkward, but not because of them. Max and Liz are seeing each other for what appears to be the first time since her declaration that they are not meant to be, after having promised to save the life of the woman who killed her sister because she can’t stand to see Max hurt. So. It’s awkward.

Michael recognizes this immediately - having spent significant time with Liz who I’m sure pointedly refused to talk about Max, and at least some time around Max even before the 4+ hour drive in which he was fully back on his broody bullshit - so he tries to cut the tension by teasing flirtily with Maria. Because that’s a thing he can do. Something that’s natural and fun for them.

Maria teases right back, likely having seen at least some of Liz’s side of this, and makes her subtle exit, knowing full well Michael would join her and leave the two lovebirds to their awkward hello.

Note that when Michael goes into the tent to have his hand healed, he goes in with Maria. Not Max, whose idea it was. But his friend, Maria. Which means they spent the long wait in that line together. She clearly needs proof - or disproof - of Arizona’s powers as much as Max, but we all know what Michael’s hand means to him, and that he was willing to have Maria there while discussing it, potentially having it healed says, again, so much about their friendship.

Arizona talks about Michael reopening the wound in his mind and he looks to Maria for reassurance. And Maria gives that to him, freely and warmly. Organically. And you can see how much that little act helps him, that he’s able to continue forward knowing she’s there.

And when Arizona essentially blows them off, Maria - who is here, remember, to find a way to heal her own ailing mother - offers Michael the comforting shoulder rub, the defensive “Come on [let’s get out of here]”.

When Maria is upset, following Arizona’s reveal as a fraud, it’s Michael, not Liz, her best friend, that follows her. For all that Michael wanted to go in guns blazing and confront her before, he’s ready to walk away when he sees that Maria is upset.

And no, Michael is not the arbiter of friendship, but he’s pretty sure it has something to do with supporting someone when they’re upset. He doesn’t know, as Liz does, that Maria does not need that, so this is his way of trying. Maria is important enough for Michael to try.

And thus gets us to my favorite scene of the Michael/Maria saga.

She says with a teasing smile on her face. She says with a fond glance at Guerin.

And his wink says he knows and he’s playing along.

When she gets up, Michael is concerned. Asking Liz if she’s going to follow her. “Don’t you think she needs a girlfriend or whatever?” Because Michael wants to make sure Maria is being taken care of.

And then.

I just. Cannot get over. This look. This is awe, this is wonder, this is heat. This is Michael for the first time seeing Maria, seeing just how strong and fierce and powerful and beautiful she really is. This is The Moment that Michael stops thinking of Maria as a fun, flirty friend, and starts seeing her as something more. As someone he might be able to really fall for. As someone who maybe, just might, be able to fill the void left behind by Alex.

And so he just stares. He cannot take his eyes off from her y’all. The whole rest of this scene is Michael just fixated on the marvel that is Maria DeLuca. He’s watching her the entire time Liz asks Max to dance. Watching her sing upon that stage. Hell, Liz has to grab his face to get him to look away and still his eyes find her again.

And Maria, for all her teasing and banter, is the one to make the first move. She extends her hand to Michael, beckons him forward and:

Imma just let that speak for itself.

She doesn’t just do it once those, she reaches for him again, just gently touching him, making contact. And it’s not just comforting contact like Michael did when she cried, or when Maria touched him in the tent. It’s not even really friendly.

No, it’s decidedly sensual. Sexy. She’s touching him in ways that are meant to illicit a reaction.

And it’s a reaction she gets, when Michael follows her from the bar.

Look at that smile. She’s teasing him, but you can see she’s happy that he’s chosen to be there, out there, with her. This is the face of a woman who’s just drunk and high enough to forget her reasons to stay away, and is just letting herself be giddy that the person she likes is here with her. She’s not thinking about her worry of being another one of Michael’s one night stands, not thinking about not letting herself get attached for fear of being hurt (spoiler alert: she was already attached).

That’s the thing, with humans. We’re really really good at lying to ourselves when we’re afraid. We’re experts at denying the existence of something that scares us, and convincing ourselves that we’re safe. Maria has convinced herself she feels nothing for Michael because admitting those feelings, even to herself, when she feels certain he doesn’t feel the same way, would be devastating. So she refuses to acknowledge it, pretends it’s not even there.

And that’s why we see such a drastic change in her behavior from night to morning. Why she was all smiles and wiles and flirtation when she was drunk, high, and looking for a distraction, but was cold and in full denial mode when she was sober and facing down the reality of the door she’d opened. Her subconscious is trying to preemptively protect her from the pain and she’s projecting her anger at herself onto Michael.

Exacerbated, I’m sure, by the fact that by the time they actually kissed, and slept together, neither of them were that drunk. We see them wander off together with a joint before Max and Liz leave the bar, and we don’t see them together again until after Liz and Max have found a hotel, gotten into bed, each tossed and turned long enough to get back out of bed, get dressed, head out to the park and talk, and then go back to bed. So I’d say it’s been at least a couple hours since their last drinks that things heat up.

So Maria doesn’t even have the excuse for herself that she was wasted because she wasn’t. Neither of them were. She let herself give into her feelings and attraction in a moment of weakness and the only one she’ll have to blame when it bites her in the ass is herself.

Even if Maria is refusing to allow herself to believe she has feelings, there is still a gut feeling that what she did was a mistake, was going to get her hurt. The mind can be interesting in that way, warning you of danger without allowing you to see what that danger is.

Michael is in a different place here. He’s upset, but in an entirely different and far more silent way than Maria. Alex broke his heart, again, just yesterday. He had to watch Alex walk away from him and for the first time, it truly felt final. Alex said it was over, full stop. I don’t think Michael had ever before thought about moving on from Alex, not really. He was always just waiting.

“Where I stand, nothing’s changed.”

But now Alex walked away and it looks like this time, he really isn’t coming back. And for the first time Mchael has to consider what his life might look like without Alex in it, and suddenly here Maria is, being the actual walking definition of charm and grace. She’s someone he knows, whom he knows to be good. She’s gorgeous and kind and beautiful and fierce. And he’s seeing for the first time just how strong she is, how courageous.

He’s mesmerized.

And he’s paying attention. To all of Maria’s little touches and smiles. To the way she seems to want exactly what he wants. Which is why he’s so unaffected by her protests and denials the next morning. Because this is Maria, his friend. He teases and pokes fun because they’re friends and he can. And because, as everyone in Roswell knows, Michael is an expert at navigating the awkward morning after, so he eases her panic about people finding out, and then teases some more.

Michael’s in a great mood. The sun is shining, there’s a gorgeous woman lying next to him, and maybe for the first time that he can remember, he’s not thinking about Alex. Or Isobel. Or anything that hurts.

That doesn’t last though. Alex shows up, reignites every emotion Michael has ever felt for him, and leaves Michael more certain than ever that he’ll never get to have Alex the way he wants him. (I have another meta on this coming, I promise). And so he’s hurt and alone again.

And he has Maria’s necklace.

So he decides to give it his best shot. He brings her the necklace, laying on a casual desire. Keeping it cool while still making clear what he wants.

And I’ve already talked about what happened with Maria and Alex between the ride home and Michael showing up, but the important take-aways here are:

Maria did not truly accept her feelings for Michael until she heard herself lie about them to Alex

Maria does not know Alex and Michael’s history beyond “they kissed once as teenagers” and “Alex still loves him”

Maria never wants to see that look of pain on Alex’s face again

And Alex knowing about them sleeping together also tells Maria that Michael, within hours of promising not to do so, told him. So she’s understandably pissy about that.

She cuts right to the chase when Michael starts to flirt.

And Michael’s face is… wounded.

Because he came to Maria to forget about Alex. He came to Maria because he likes her, and because he wanted to see if that spark he felt could light a fire, could turn into something real. He’s exploring, for the first time, the potential of really falling for someone who isn’t Alex.

And that’s what it is, at this point: potential.

But Maria says no, so he does with Maria the exact same thing he did when rejected by Alex - he deflects. Pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Why do you keep saying it can’t happen again, I got it the first time. That’s not why I’m here at all!” (narrator voice: it was, in fact, exactly why he was there).

And both of their faces when Michael walks away tell us this isn’t want they want.

This scene is a little bit devastating. Seeing Maria refuse herself something she wants. Seeing Michael once again turned away due to something outside his control.

But he takes the hint and leaves. He’d made an attempt and was shut down, and he wasn’t going to push it.

It appears they don’t see each other again until the morning of the Gala, when Maria straight up pretends she doesn’t see him.

And Michael calls her on it, because it’s bullshit and he knows it. They were friends before they slept together and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let that get in the way of what appears to be his only human connection aside from Alex.

Maybe it’s me, but this line was delivered with exactly the right amounts of relief and disappointment. Relief that she won’t have to endure seeing Michael in a tux. Disappointment that she won’t get to see Michael in a tux. It’s a Mood.

Michael makes a joke because that’s what they do. Maria said no, but he wants to ease them back into their friendly camaraderie. He doesn’t want to lose his friendship with Maria.

But Maria can’t do what she and Michael do. Because what she and Michael do is why she fell for him. So she can’t let them go back to being banter friends across the bar, not yet anyway. She needs time and she needs space so she can get over him.

Not to mention: Maria doesn’t know. Period. Maria doesn’t know Michael’s feelings for her might be genuine. Maria doesn’t know that Alex and Michael’s history is fraught and traumatic and painful. Maria doesn’t know that Michael and Alex were seeing each other over the summer. Maria doesn’t know that their history doesn’t start and end with that kiss in the museum. She doesn’t know that Michael still has feelings for Alex. And while Maria knows Alex is in love with Michael, she doesn’t know he’s made any effort to show that to Michael.

And she doesn’t want to hurt Alex. He’s always been there for her and she wants to protect him. To protect herself.

So she makes a jab about the museum - it was intentional insofar as she meant to drive the wedge of Alex further between them, but again, she does not know what else happened after Michael kissed Alex at the museum. She isn’t trying to hurt Michael here, she’s trying to build a wall.

When Michael says “It’s over. It’s been over,” she has no reason not to believe him.

And Michael isn’t saying that because he’s trying to come on to her again. He’s saying that because he can see that Maria feels guilty and he’s trying to assuage that. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The look Maria gives Michael here. The glance to his lips. She is gone on this man already. She wants him. She wants to believe him. She wants to be allowed to give in to him.

But she’s not. So she throws up more spikes and walks away.

This moment makes a whole lot more sense if you remember that, as far as we know, Michael has only ever given even a single shit about two humans in his entire life: Alex and Maria. We know what Alex is and was to him, the narrative makes it absolutely clear that Michael has been in love with Alex for a decade and has essentially been idling, just like Max, for Alex to come back. He sees their love as cosmic.

And we know what Maria is to him. She’s his friend. Someone who gets him, at least the little stuff. The light stuff. His sense of humor, his penchant for drowning his sorrows in substances, his compassion and his dependability.

Someone threatening that friendship? The one and only truly painless thing he’s ever found on this forsaken planet? Not a smart person.

Michael and Max make it to the Gala and that protective streak flares again. Because he was right. And Maria is innocent and now she’s vulnerable, and he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let anything happen to her.

This is him continuing to not push boundaries, even when she can’t hear him. She said they can’t continue whatever it was they started, but they were friends before that and he wants to go back to that. Go back to fun.

Not to mention that he is visibly worried in a way we have only seen him express before for Isobel and Alex.

He sits there, holding her, letting his presence be known as a comfort, stroking her hair.

So that when she wakes, she knows immediately that she is not alone. That she is safe and being looked after.

And at the first sign that she may not want him there? He immediately offers to leave, and not only leave, but find someone else she trusts to look after her so that she still won’t be alone.

“You gotta stop showing up for me like this, Guerin.” is what she says, but what she means is “you have to stop reminding me why I fell for you. Stop making it so hard for me to get over you just by being you.”

(And also just a reminder here that Maria is still under the influence of an inhibition-lowering drug. That means it makes her do and say things she would not normally allow herself to do/say. She’d never have admitted these feelings to Michael had she been sober, or under the influence of an intoxicant she’s used to, but this is not that. This is literally a date-rape drug and anyone who has anything shitty to say about Maria in this scene can Fite Me.)

And when Maria says that she never wants him to leave?

Riley put it best: “That is not the face of a man whose feelings have just been reciprocated. That is the face of a man whose life just got very complicated.”

His lips barely twitch towards a smile but he can’t even hold it. He knows he’s supposed to be happy, but he can’t feel it. He wanted to believe that he could want this, that his feelings for Maria could drown out the way he feels about Alex, but like with Maria not realizing her feelings until she heard herself lie, I don’t believe Michael truly recognized his lack of feelings until he heard Maria admit the depth of hers.

I think Michael absolutely, 100%, no doubt cares deeply for Maria. I believe he is unquestionably attracted to her. I think she makes him happy and feel light because she’s not bogged down in the trauma that marks his life, and because she, by her own admission, actively tries to be the Fun Friend.

And I think Michael wants to have feelings for Maria. Because he believes he can’t have Alex and continuing to dwell on that will only continue to hurt him. He wants to move on, and Maria is literally walking perfection. There is no reason Michael shouldn’t absolutely return every bit of her feelings and then some.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. His heart belongs to another.

Now we don’t see the end of the night for Michael and Maria, but we do know that he takes her home. How do we know this? Because there’s no way a man who emphatically threatened to explode anyone who came near her while she was drugged would let her go home alone. Not a chance in hell. I doubt they talked at all, but he made sure she made it home safely.

And that, as far as we know, is the last time that they see each other before the finale, before Michael shows up wrecked and broken and needing to feel something, anything, that doesn’t hurt.

I’ll be diving into his, Maria’s, and Alex’s headspaces, and then taking a look at the dynamic as a whole, but none of what happens in the finale makes any kind of sense if you don’t fully recognize everything that came before it. What lead to it. It was a perfect storm of emotion and heartbreak, and this is just one cloud.

#miluca #m&m #michael guerin #maria deluca #roswell new mexico #rnm meta #rnm #miluca meta #i just have a lot of feelings #on michael & maria #i've been working on this since i finished episode 9 #sooooooo here it finally is lolololol #michael guerin meta #maria deluca meta

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capmerthur · 5 years

Text

THE BODY SWAP (final chapter)

It’s all in the title :) Somewhere end S1 (after 1.11 Labyrinth, but pre 1.13 Morte). In a land of myth, and a time of magic, Arthur awakes inside Merlin’s body (and no, not in that way). Alternating Merthur POV. Bonus Gaius. Mentions of Will and George.

Excerpt PART XV:

" Do you feel any different, Merlin? Please tell me it's gone."

The words stab through Merlin like a knife.

"I do feel like myself", Merlin asserts in the most joyful tone he can master while his heart splits in two, answering only the first question because at least then it's *not* a lie - even knowing the words mean the contrary of the truth in Arthur's opinion.

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS UNDERS CHAPTER XV)

XV. TELL ME IT’S GONE (MERLIN POV)

"Do you feel any different, Merlin?"

Merlin had pondered the night before about how things could turn out, after having lifted the spell - if it worked, of course. And he cannot deny that he had thought, if only briefly, about how Arthur might simply come to accept his magic afterwards, as a new part of him; at least, Merlin wouldn't have to hide such an intrinsic part of himself from Arthur anymore, huh. It would have been a lie, too, though - even a greater one than simply keeping the original truth secret; and Merlin had felt guilty for having even ever entertained the wish for the easy way.

But now, Merlin understands that it isn't even an option anyway to start with. Arthur looks definitely worried. And there is no doubt in Merlin's mind about the answer Arthur wishes to hear, even before Arthur actually pleads for it:

"Please tell me it's gone."

The words stab through Merlin like a knife.

Admitting he has (no matter always or still) magic would only create distance between them now. Not even distance because Arthur might grow to mistrust him (you bet Merlin would never give him reasons to to start with); but simply, literally, a physical distance. Arthur would send him away. Arthur would not allow him to stay - not at his service, not in the castle, and not even within the borders of Camelot. Not because he might be a threat; simply because he wouldn't accept Merlin endangering himself - especially as he would feel responsible in the first place for having brought the trouble upon Merlin. In Arthur's eyes, Merlin going along on risky patrols is acceptable because it is, in fact, Merlin's own decision; but Merlin daily having to risk death in his own home for having magic meant to be Arthur's doom wouldn't be something Arthur would simply let be. That much is crystal clear.

And Merlin just doesn't want to, cannot, won't be sent away.

Which means he will have to lie then, anyway. And even worse: Merlin will now NEVER be able to tell the truth; Arthur will never get to know him - at least not fully. There would be no going back. Confessing the truth later on would only put a spotlight on the fact that he lied now...

Merlin though doesn't even hesitate. It's not only that he doesn't want to leave Arthur's side. It's also, simply, that he can't and won't have Arthur worry on his behalf.

For about three weeks, Arthur tests him - tests *it*. Making Merlin fall, throwing things his way - anything to trigger a defensive mechanism reaction. It's lucky Merlin has years of practice about refraining his magical surges, or he probably wouldn't have lasted an hour.

It settles though finally, once Arthur allows himself to believe Merlin is 'his usual self indeed'. The smile on Arthur's face as he speaks those words is both the most heartwarming and the most heartbreaking thing Merlin has ever seen.

THE END

THANKS AGAIN FOR YOUR AMAZING SUPPORT EVERYONE :) I HAVE SO MUCH FEEEEEEEEELS FOR/ABOUT THOSE TWO IDIOTS AND I HOPE I MADE THEM JUSTICE...

BACKSTORY : WHO THE HELL DID IT ? (I'M SURE YOU ALL WONDER...)

1) I could have gone fluffy (Merlin thought about having Arthur truly knowing him, or understanding what it is to be him, or something, before falling asleep, and his magic interprets it poorly and messes up. BUT Merlin is too attuned to his magic, he deals with it since his birth, that sort of magic blunders clearly belongs in the past...

2) I could have gone naughty (Merlin dreams about Arthur being inside him and him being inside Arthur in a physical way, and his magic interprets it poorly and messes up. But 1) see 1, and 2) Merlin imo just DOESN'T permit himself that sort of thoughts about Arthur. No way. He is so DEVOTED to Arthur, it would feel like disrespect, especially as soon as in S1. (He will long as time goes by for more contact and closeness though - but I think Merlin never permits himself to think further than the fact that he longs; instead of the specifics of what exactly he might long for). Also, to begin with anyway, imo Merlin doesn't permit himself that sort of thoughts about anyone in general too. I think he's honestly cautious about sex, because it includes losing control, which means his magic getting revealed somehow (how do you think Will ever found out, huh? Headcanon time: Will is older and tells him once about masturbating feeling like magic and Merlin tries and makes a butterfly and the next time he sees Will he's like 'wow, you were right, i made a butterfly' and Will is like ?); so it's just a BIG NO, with everyone and all the time. (It also explains in part too imo why he falls for Freya - she knows magic too, therefore not only does she understand him without need for justification and explanation, but also she is a potential mate, physically too - with her, it's safe. And as the prophecy says Arthur *will* be king, as long as Uther lives he should be alright, technically, so Merlin thinks maybe he CAN have it all after all, somehow - go with Freya until the time comes for him to return at Arthur's side...)

SO: IT'S NIMUEH.

The boys got it all wrong. No one is after Arthur, neither his body, neither his mind... It's just Nimueh coming for *Merlin*.

She understood Merlin has magic in 1.03, and decided he must be gone, in order for her to have her revenge on Uther = 1.04

But Merlin survived (as she realizes by 1.09)!

So to be rid of Merlin she switches Merlin and Arthur (=this fic) - that way, Merlin can't use his magic (and Arthur neither, because you don't learn how to deal with magical abilities overnight... normally at least, she has no idea about how powerful Merlin's magic is) - and she sends the Questing Beast (begin of 1.13) after ARTHUR'S BODY (because it is in fact Merlin) (and it's not kiling Arthur, as he can live on in Merlin's body...)

But, when later in 1.13 Merlin comes to her to beg for Arthur's life, she realizes that Merlin is still in fact in his body, which either means that he is too powerful for her to put a spell on him, or powerful enough to have find a way to reverse the spell even without his magic, which can only means that Merlin is Emrys, and she wants to bring him on her side more than kill him, now that she knows of his importance. And as she wasn't as she says supposed to be the one killing Arthur, she agrees to help (but cannot take Merlin's life, knowing he's the almighty Emrys, so takes his mother then Gaius instead as she doesn't really mind who goes anyway...)

SEE? IT MAKES (SOME) SENSE (And gave me the perfect opportunity to use Bradley's idea, because honestly - WHY DIDN'T THEY USE IT IN THE SHOW! I'm not that much into body swap in general, but in this MAGICAL universe to start with, and with those two idiots? It just works. SO, for the last time, everyone, say: THANK YOU BRADLEY :))

(By the way, as we're at it, another headcanon: it is more guilt than love that drives Uther / Ygraine. The questing beast was supposed to come for him - a price he had been ready to pay to have a legitimate masculine heir. But Ygraine sprung in between or something, saving him and dying. I cannot buy the love of my life thing knowing he cheated on her behind her back; and guilt is enough of a vicious motivator on his own too...)

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS)

I. AWAKING (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur awakes; lying on his back - unusual - and rolls over automatically.

He surprisingly falls, down, hard; and jerks fully awake now - on the floor, near a so very tiny bed, tangled in an unknown blanket (harsher than his standards, even while on errands, he can’t help but notice).

In disbelief, he eyes his surroundings…

Where is he? Has he been abducted?

Think, he admonishes himself - trying to clear his mind; to remember what must have happened, to guess who has dared to commit such an act, and, most important of all right now: Find a way out.

His eyes then suddenly meet Merlin’s, and relief surges through him somehow - Merlin is alive - before his anxiety returns; and double: because poor faithful, loyal Merlin has obviously been taken too; and it’s Arthur’s fault - he must have failed to save them both from being taken, even though he cannot remember anything…

Except when Arthur reaches out to Merlin for him to come closer (they need to share information and plan, but must be quiet as a mouse), he realizes with fright but indeniable certainty that Merlin is in fact a reflection in a mirror; and worse: *HIS* reflection!?

It his NOT his hand indeed that is stretching out in front of him; NOT his clothes on his person; and definitely NOT his own hair falling upon his eyes, as he notices the black strings in his vision range…

Arthur is dumbstruck. He sees Merlin’s mouth shaping a silent O, and he sees the dread in Merlin’s eyes… except they ARE - he feels - *his* mouth, and *his* eyes; and everything is just plainly wrong, and plainly impossible - but undeniably REAL.

He is… Merlin? Or better said, *inside* Merlin? How can such a thing have even come to be?

Sorcery, Arthur understands with horror: Camelot is under attack!

But now armed with the knowledge of his predicament, Arthur realizes he is actually in Merlin’s bedroom. He’s been in here before, once; and he recognizes it all now.

So. Not abducted. All things considered, that still counts as something, right…

And, as it surely doesn’t feel as if Merlin is still somewhere in his own head too while Arthur is inside of it, well… Maybe? Logically? Merlin might then be in return inside his own body?

Arthur suddenly finds himself praying for this to be true. It would be for the best, if Merlin was in his body - if they were the only ones concerned by this unnatural situation; because what if *everyone* was awaking inside someone else’s body this morning? That would be… precarious - the general panic leaving Camelot completely vulnerable to whoever must have plotted this? The worst though would be if the one responsible for this was right now in control of his body, and acting as Crown Prince to do, well, evil deeds… So yes, you bet Arthur truly wants to find Merlin to be the one inside his own body when he finally finds it.

Arthur jumps on his feet, ready for action. Luckily (even though Arthur feels a bit guilty, as he notices his armour in pristine state against the opposite wall - apparently Merlin has been polishing it late into the night then) Merlin hasn’t bothered to undress before falling asleep.

So. First thing first: he has to go to his chamber.

Picking some weapon on the way for good measure, you bet …

Simply walking the few paces to open the door though turns out to be a challenge. His limbs are too long, and dangly; it feels like he has two left feet, and he has to try thrice before actually getting a grip on the handle - because he isn’t used to this body, of course - but maybe it is truly NOT Merlin’s fault if he trips over his own feet that often after all…

Gaius is already out - hopefully looking for herbs and not wandering out of his mind… Arthur would have preferred to be able to test right away his theories about how many people were affected by the damn body change; but unfortunately, it would have to wait some more.

The corridors are empty too, except for a stray black cat who walks at his side long enough for Arthur to start questioning himself about asking to the cat if he *is* Merlin - because Merlin HAS to be somewhere, right, as he obviously isn’t where he should be to start with; but then the cat takes another turn… Arthur feels stupid for worrying so much about his silly manservant - but he cannot deny that he definitely will worry less only after having indeed finally found said silly manservant.

Arthur relaxes slighthly though when he enters the kitchen: people are working as usual, apparently not in shock, apparently in their right bodies. He picks up the first tray he finds, along with an extra knife that he hides in his pocket for good measure.

He tries to put on a confident grin as he walks (with the most assurance he can muster in this awkward-feeling body) towards the guards at his bedroom’s door - and can only hope it will look the same as usual to them. They let him pass without trouble, and Arthur isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing. On the one hand, he *doesn’t* doubt Merlin - he simply, intrinsically doesn’t; and would never want him to feel like he did if his guards were to search him whenever he was about to enter his chamber. On the other hand… well, it isn’t Merlin right now entering his chamber, with knifes at the ready… This time, it’s only him; but what if it happens again, and if the one then inside Merlin’s body has ill intentions…

Deciding not to dwell on this for the time being, Arthur enters his bedroom - hoping to find Merlin doing whatever Merlin always does, but preparing for a fight, if need be…

II. AWAKING (MERLIN POV)

Merlin awakes as if in a cocoon; literally. He is surrounded by softness, flush, warmth; he cannot remember ever feeling so comfortable - and the world can wait for just another few seconds before he opens his eyes, right… Merlin wriggles, shifting on his back, sighing softly as he nestles some more into the cushions…

When Merlin awakes for the second time - culpability sinking in as he realizes he has overslept - his eyes open to a Pendragon red canopy he would recognize even among hundreds. Merlin freezes: what the hell is he doing, sleeping IN ARTHUR’S BED?!

Merlin sits upright at once - blankets falling all around him to reveal that he wears ARTHUR’S NIGHTGOWN too ?!

Whaaaaaaaat?!

This… just DOESN’T make any sense. The last thing he can remind is sitting on his own bed, polishing the last bit of Arthur’s armour before letting himself fall down to sleep (*AN). He surely doesn’t recall walking to Arthur’s chamber, and even less…

Merlin’s mind is reeling as he shuffles out of bed as swiftly as he can. Oh my… What is Arthur going to think? And come to think of it - true panic now creeping down on Merlin at that thought: *WHERE* is Arthur to start with?

His attention is drawn out right then by Arthur calling out his name (Merlin feels relief, no matter his current embarrassing situation) - in one of those thousands yet unmistakably always Arthurian ways to say his name: a myriad of moods and meanings in those simple two syllables - the voice sounding odd though this morning (is Arthur sick?), and tensed (well, he just found his manservant in *his* bed, that might explain it!).

Merlin turns to face his sovereign, trying to feel less self conscious because he mustn’t look guilty, while wishing for inspiration, and buying time until it hits: “There is actually a perfectly valid explan-”

But it is NOT Arthur he sees: it is… himself? His breath catches as ‘utter confusion’ gets a new meaning, you bet…

At the same moment, Merlin notices suddenly just how *not his* his voice has just sounded, and how he’s wearing a very particular ring around one finger of what’s NOT his hand, and how *blond* hair is falling upon his eyes… And still nothing makes sense; but at least it *does* explain how he awoke in Arthur’s bed in Arthur’s clothes: he *is* Arthur?; and… Arthur… is him? MUST be him. He has been calling his name right the right way, right?!

“Sire?” Merlin barely dares to breathe out, both in wonder and in plea (because Arthur CANNOT be gone - the fear and pain and simple *impossibility* of such a concept slicing through Merlin’s mind like a knife).

There is a bright smile then appearing on his face - a smile that doesn’t entirely look like his own though - “Yes, Merlin. It’s me,” followed by a relieved sigh: “And it’s you”. And, despite the shock about them having apparently switched bodies (?!?!), Merlin can’t help but feel warm all over - because Arthur (and yes, it is so clearly Arthur, even in HIS body!) has apparently been worried about him.

(*AN) Headcanon time :

Merlin uses magic to clean Arthur’s armour in the beginning, indeed. And he still uses magic for most of the chores, as much as he can, of course (washing clothes, mending clothes, emptying chamber pots, sweeping fireplaces, preparing baths, refreshing beds, cleaning floors, cleaning everything, really (except for mucking the stables, because there are always others around, grrrr). But he quickly grows nearly *maniac* about Arthur’s food (picking at it as a way to make sure it’s not poisoned etc…) and about Arthur’s armour: it’s one of Arthur’s protections - so you bet Merlin definitely cleans and polishes and repairs and oils the leather ligaments that hold it together and EVERYTHING the hell out of it, with extra ardor and fervor, with his own two hands, all the while continuously trying to put on it any protecting spells he ever finds, and repeating those over and over at each occasion… Also, mirrors were probably not so advanced at the time… But let’s say Merlin has an enhanced one, after all he has magic, right…

On a side note, I’m never going to be over Arthur’s priority-thinking (I’m in trouble = CAMELOT IS UNDER ATTACK (babyyyy let me hold you - being Camelot Prince/King is NOT your only worth) and Merlin’s priority-thinking (what the hell is happening = WHERE THE HELL IS ARTHUR (babyyyy let me hold you - your devotion to The (brave, kind, admirable (shut up Merlin)) Prat doesn’t have to mean that you always must come second (and a bit self-preservation cannot be harmful)) *SIGH* I just love those two idiots so much !!!

III. DISABLED (MERLIN POV)

But soon, Merlin is terrified.

And not because of the puzzling body swap.

*HE HAS NO MAGIC!?*

(Not that Merlin knows of any spell to reverse their current situation at once, mind you; so he doesn’t actually try anything about it. But Merlin simply knows: there is nothing but blood running through his veins now - no vigorous warmth, no energic flow; there is simply nothing singing under his placid flesh, as he focuses on it.)

He cannot help but wish he’s wrong though, and desperately tries to move a quill on Arthur’s desk behind Arthur’s back - the simplest of things, really; yet he fails, indeed…

His magic is tied to his body. Not to his mind.

No, no, no, no, nooooooooooo.

Merlin is, to his core, *terrified* - as he has never been. Not only because he feels more powerless and utterly helpless than he has ever felt - and worse, unable to protect Arthur! But also because the longer Arthur stays in his body, the more chances he has to find out that he has magic!? (And even though Merlin has nearly told Arthur, once? He is still not ready for him to know right now… Will after all didn’t lie to protect Merlin’s secret on his deathbed for Merlin to take chances with his life so soon after…)

Merlin though decides to push his panic aside for the moment: he simply MUST focus. No matter which sorcerer has this week decided to deal with the Pendragon line once and for all, Arthur’s life is undoubtedly in the balance; and that’s dearer to Merlin than all the magic in the world - included his own.

Because Merlin’s life *has* tilted, on that rocky beach by The Great Seas of Meredor.

Merlin’s earnest readiness to lay his life down to save Arthur’s had been instinctive, beyond doubt visceral; and the concrete force of the impulse had surprised him. Because it hadn’t been related to his first supposed then anyway indeed wished upon destiny. It had merely been a reflex, a spontaneous reaction: what he had wanted to do; more than what he ought to do. And Merlin had realized right then that he had, somehow, but undeniably, actually come to *LOVE* Arthur? He had known, for some time, that he liked him. And he had felt oddly pleased when Arthur had turned up at Ealdor - maybe Arthur liked him too? But if your first thought when someone is threatened is ‘I’d rather die than see him die’? Well, there is a kind of selfishness, even in seflessness, that goes beyond ‘liking’, right…

It shouldn’t have been such a shocking revelation though. Sure, Arthur could be a spoiled, royal prat; an irritating, pompous ass; an arrogant, moronic bully - to list but the top of the iceberg of his massive shortcomings, and without even mentioning the complete dollophead he could sometimes be. But Arthur could also be truly brave, honest, and kind; willing not only to trust but also to actually defend the words of mere servants, ready to defy his father’s orders in order to save a child’s life, and volunteering to help a village not even belonging to his Kingdom, to note only a few examples. Also: at some point, Merlin had realized how what could at first appear as near manhandling tactility was in fact just Arthur’s disguised way to show (or ask?) affection (because one probably just doesn’t walk around asking for cuddles while growing up between Uther’s judging cold glares and Morgana’s sharp witty tongue; and the physical occasional playfulness of the knights training must have seemed like the only way to go…). And last but not least: Merlin owed Arthur his life - if Arthur hadn’t gone looking for a Mortaeus flower… So, in short: of course Merlin had gotten fond of the man. For his own values; and not because he was meant to be the other side of his coin or something. And notwithstanding how so annoyingly beautiful he always was (for the record on that particular subject: Gwen is so adorably beautiful, and Morgana so petrifyingly beautiful).

But, as Arthur - bound to be King one day Arthur - hadn’t even hesitate before choosing to sacrifice himself, in order to fix what he had recognized to be his error, instead of using the (even offered) life of a simple servant? Well… There is a difference still between having the conviction that Arthur is a good man ready to fight for the greater good, even knowing it could be his death; and knowing as a FACT that Arthur *is* a good man ready to *die* for the greater good, even knowing it *will* be his death. And you bet having been proven *exactly* how pure of heart Arthur intrinsically is has only cemented that burgeoning love deeper into Merlin’s heart - simply; truly; and maybe irrevocably. Merlin would now willingly die a thousand deaths to save his Prince.

(Feel free to shout with me about 1.11 because *MAJOR FEELS*!)

(And then hug me as I shamelessly cry because this is still NOTHING next to what’s to come - aka Arthur becoming ACHINGLY beautiful, as Merlin turns ready to KILL a thousands times to save his King, blackening his own heart in the process and thinking himself then unworthy of Arthur’s love because Arthur is just so BRIGHT; but wishing for it nonetheless?)

IV. PLANNING (MERLIN POV)

Arthur, miraculously (even though understandably; because he must be shaken too, right), is unaware of Merlin’s internal crisis as he shares what he’s uncovered until now: “It seems to be just us. The kitcheners and the guards all seem to be themselves.”

“So. Whoever has done this is targetting you - personnally.”

“Nice to see your wits are still so very particularly sharp, Merlin. Is there any reason for the one behind all this to be targetting you?”

It is beyond odd to *hear* Arthur’s usual tone in his own voice; but Merlin still has the grace to sigh, before pushing his point further: “But why you?”

“Well, obviously *you*’ve forgotten, but I am Camelot’s Crown Prince, responsib-.”

“Which is exactly what’s bothering me!” Merlin can’t help but interject. “Why take on the Prince when you can take on the King?”

“Oh… Do you think… Could someone be… training on us, then? Before attacking-”

“I honestly have no idea. Maybe you got targetted indeed because you’re head of security. We shouldn’t rule anything out.”

Arthur brings his fist down on the table, determinedly: “Well, whatever the evil plan might be, we just cannot permit for it to work. We’ll have to find a way to stop this nonsense - no offense. In the meantime, we must act as if nothing unusual is going on. It might be for the time being our best chance at keeping Camelot safe - making whoever planned this think the spell didn’t work?”

Merlin can’t help but let out a helpless (yet realistic) sigh: “That’s… a lot; on both accounts.”

Arthur echoes with a helpless sigh of his own: “I know.”

But if they are to keep up pretenses, Merlin is going to need to be prepared: “So. What’s on your agenda for today - besides the monthly open pleas this morning and the daily training this afternoon?”

“Nothing particular. And there are no coming feasts nor abroad visits planned for the coming time, thankfully. (worried sigh) But there’s concil, tomorrow.”

“Well, let’s start at the beginning. I should do fine enough for the pleas. It’s mostly your father’s duty; your presence is required, of course, but mostly you’re to hear and listen…” Fear grips Merlin at once: “But it’s public; so it would be a great opportunity to try to murder you!” He MUST protect Arthur’s body: “Will you please go fetch your chainmail in my room?”

“No.”

The tone is definitive, and Merlin is torn between begging, or growing impatient - because Arthur can be so obtuse sometimes (now really isn’t the time for Arthur to be feeling indignation about being ordered around like a simple servant; even though he *is* one at the moment - not that Merlin would ever think he was one, of course - but what if Arthur thinks he does and enjoys the chance at some payback?): “Arthur, please (again?). It’s the expected type of errands of the body you momentarily (because it MUST be momentarily, right?) inhabit - I can’t - You’re the target. I need your chainmail. I have no fighting skills, nor any kind of skills really to protect yo-”

“I cannot be seen wandering the castle in my chainmail without reason, Merlin; it would attract attention”, Arthur interrupts in a somehow gentler tone; and Merlin realizes that Arthur hadn’t registered at first how Merlin’s concern was about him, more than himself - and is obviously humbled by the thought. “Court clothes are required, anyway. We’re not supposed to look threatening, nor threatened, when our subjects come to present their wishes,” Arthur pursues, killing any possible protest in the bud. “Besides, the guards will be present. So don’t worry too much about anything happening to us”, Arthur ends in a lower voice; as if the last part had been more a thought to reassure himself than a phrase meant to be uttered - and Merlin just has to savour that precious ‘us’…

Merlin though isn’t reassured enough about his Prince’s safety: “Please (yes, that’s thrice; adamant much?) Sire, at least allow me to wear your thickest leather under your tunic” - willing his voice to make it sound like a not-to-be-denied demand more than a true question.

Arthur holds his gaze; and it actually feels like a blessing when he finally relents: “As you wish; but it won’t be comfortable against naked skin.”

“I’ll manage.” Merlin can’t help but fidget some before pursuing - asking Arthur to do what is and should be *his* work feeling not only weird but even wrong: “But I’ll need your help to tie it in the back?”

Arthur dimissively tousles his hair, grumbling: “I *know*, Merlin.” 'My clothes’ going unsaid.

Merlin can be relieved about one thing, at least: Arthur obviously isn’t piqued about doing a servant’s work…

Merlin picks out the largest fitting of Arthur’s clothes. He puts on the braies and trousers while still wearing the gown, respectfully tying the belt blindly around his waist. He puts on socks, and shoes. Then only does he take the gown off, and turns his back towards Arthur so that he may help with adjusting the leather’s straps.

A surprised but definitely pleased whisper (“Impressive, ain’t I?”) echoes in Merlin’s ears, as the Prat Prince seems apparently unable not to comment about his damn broad back, angling Merlin shortly that way and this way as if to assess it even better.

'Believe me, I know’, Merlin can’t refrain from thinking; feeling a blush coming over his face, and thankful that Arthur is too busy looking at his own back to notice any of it.

“I think I might even have outgrown Sir Leon - in width at least if not in height”, Arthur concludes proudly before finally starting to work the ties - leaving Merlin suddenly ashamed of his initial internal reprimand, and oddly upset. Of course Arthur would only wish to see in his physique the strength of a warrior. Of course his first thought, when finally able to actually see his own back, would be to compare it to his given models - the Knights; and most of all among them, to his own chosen model, Leon - both the noblest and strongest of them all, yet young enough to play the part of the older brother Arthur could look up to while growing up… No one has probably ever told him that he is beautiful, Merlin realizes sadly. But the fact that Arthur is so unaware only makes him even more beautiful in Merlin’s eyes…

Merlin forces himself to tease Arthur, hiding his turmoil under their usual banter: “Well, I could ask Gabriel to take measurements, if you so badly wish-”

“Shut up, Merlin”, accompanied by a rewarding hit in the back of his right shoulder, which Merlin gladly revels in, no matter the unusual fist size. This, no matter their predicament, feels normal.

And in that short moment of normalcy, when everything feels just right as Arthur ends tying the leather, Merlin notices something he hasn’t noticed before, when all he could feel was STRESS.

Oh no.

“Sire?” Merlin can’t help but wince at the intimidated tone in his voice as he turns around; and Arthur is eyeing him now with furrowed eyebrows. “I think I need - I mean you need… to… have to go?”

Arthur makes a face - with his face; except it still looks somehow like a typical outraged Arthur face (damn, this is just too confusing…): “Merlin!”

“He! Do not look at me like this is my fault! It’s *YOUR* body! Maybe you shouldn’t have drun-”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have brought a full pitcher at dinner then!”

They eye each other, both unrelenting over who is at fault.

And Merlin can’t help but think that somehow he is, indeed, no matter what. Because there are levels in intimacy; and he IS definitely crossing a line. There is a difference between being around and trying to avoid his gaze when Arthur walks in and out of his bath, or applying Gaius’s healing balm to bruises on Arthur’s back because it’s a place Arthur can’t reach on his own, and, well… watching and touching Arthur’s *manhood*, even if only for urinating, technically ensuring no mess is done while doing it?

Arthur suddenly sighs though, and his voice sounds kinder as he offers: “This will surely happens a few times before we sort it all out, huh. To the both of us. So. How should we proceed?”

Merlin scratches his head, summoning some courage: “Do you want to… hold-”

“Your hand, Merlin!”, Arthur demonstrates, lifting the would-be-culprit in the air and wiggling its fingers for good measure; and that’s a 'No way’ if Merlin ever heard one…

“Would you rather it to be your hand-”

“It’s *your* hand right now!” Indeed. So. Another 'No way’.

But suddenly Merlin has a solution, of sort: “What if I… go sit into the stream? There’s a quiet spot not so far from the castle I found while collecting herbs for Gaius… If I hurry I still can make it back before the pleas.”

Arthur actually claps his hands, obviously relieved: “Sometimes, I swear, you are a genius.” He hurries over, handing Merlin his tunic and grabbing the Pendragon red doublet before marching out: “Let’s go!”

“You’re coming?” (hastening to put the tunic on and grabbing a towel before following)

“Well, as I just said, it’s bound to happen to me - you - so I might just as well tag along, and know where it is.”

Once out of potentially spying ears reach, they plan the day further.

“We HAVE to tell Gaius, at the least, about our situation: no one will contest his word if he says you’re not to train for a while - because honestly how am I supposed to spare with your Knights? They will notice right away that something isn’t right. And, well…”

Merlin hesitates, not wanting to incriminate Gaius in any way. As it turns out, he doesn’t have to:

“You’re right. Besides, Gaius has heard about a lot of… stuff, in all his years. I was planning to go around Jeffrey and look for the forbidden books, but I have no ideas how many volumes are hidden down here, nor where they even *are* to start with… If anyone we know might have even the slightest clue about how to fix our problem, it’s him; even if it’s only about finding an adequate book.”

Merlin nods, relieved: “So. After the pleas, I stage a fall, and we go to Gaius, who tells you’re not to train for the time being. That leaves the rest of the day free, both for looking up about our situation, and briefing me on what I should be aware of for tomorrow’s concil. Do you address things in an established order; who’s whose specialisms; what you discussed by the latest concils which might be brought up again tomorrow; and so on…”

“I’m supposed to make the battle plans, Merlin? But as far as plans go, I have to admit this isn’t a bad one. Except I’m not you; I do not trip on my feet twice a day. So. I’ll make you fall. That’s more plausible.”

“No way! You’ll end up in the stocks!” Merlin realizes how - no matter what he might have been thinking just a few months ago - he simply doesn’t want Arthur in the stocks. Ever. “Which is NOT where you should be spending your afternoon.” Merlin quickly amends; hiding his concern under logic’s sake, knowing it to be the best way to persuade Arthur anyway. “So. You fall. I try to help you. But we both fall. I’m clumsy, as ever; you’re noble, as always; everyone get to laugh at me, and praise you; and your father might skip punishing me for you getting hurt in the process, as you obviously didn’t want me hurt to start with?” (pause, before adding earnestly, yet fiercely, as Merlin isn’t able to tone back the surge of threat in his eyes at the mere idea of having anyone disrespecting Arthur in that way) “If he doesn’t though, I’ll stand guard next to you.”

“Would you?” Arthur seems surprised; but touched: “Well, who knows, maybe I’ll return the favor the next time.”

Merlin can’t refrain a whine: “The next time?”

“Even I can’t save you from my father’s wrath every time; it’s bound to happen, either from your two left foots or your snarky mouth.”

They can hear the water now, and Arthur accelerates towards it, as Merlin lags behind, unable not to smile:

“I guess I’m supposed to say 'thank you’?”

“I might have forgotten to mention I’ll probably throw something in your face myself at the last moment. Prince’s privilege and all that…” - Arthur even turns towards him, giving him one of his goofy faces to boot (Merlin didn’t know *his* face could do *that*, by the way).

Merlin just keeps on smiling anyway. He probably hasn’t felt that brightly, positively, ridiculously happy since “I’m rehiring you - because someone needs to muck out my stables”. Arthur has a particular way to express fondness, and Merlin wouldn’t change it for the world.

V. THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT MERLIN (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur is the first to reach the stream, and crouches down to test the water with his hand.

“It’s cold”, he warns, while Merlin walks in a straight line towards a tree with a low hanging branch and starts undressing - he does come here often, clearly.

Merlin shrugs: “Be grateful it’s not winter yet. Try bathing around Imbolc - that’s cold.” Merlin goes on; stating an afterthought while hanging his pants on the branch: “Still worth it though; everything here is just more… alive, you know. You don’t get that indoors.”

And Arthur has bathed on patrols enough to know that, honestly?: he prefers his warm baths. He can’t help but feel a smile on his face though at the words; they are so intrinsically Merlin.

Arthur had been struck, when they had met. No one had ever defied him, in any way. And it had stung; Arthur could admit. So. He had not been displeased at all when he had overmastered the fool and turned him over. The affront had been too public to be allowed to slide, and Arthur had decided he wouldn’t dwell a further thought about the goodhearted fool (Arthur knew terrorrizing people wasn’t right. He tended though to react badly whenever anyone acted cowardly (which was, well, all the time, around him); especially as he was actually *praised* for it somehow), but fool nonetheless, who should have known to mind his own business…

It had been nothing though in comparison to his surprise when their paths had crossed again. Arthur hadn’t been able NOT to taunt him - hoping, somehow… But the last thing Arthur had been actually expecting had been for Merlin to act *exactly the same*. Surely, now that he knew who he was, he would just scrabble around him as anyone else - not defy him again, knowing it would get him in chains again, right? Arthur had been *delighted* by Merlin’s untamable fire - the words, and then the look he had thrown at him while taking his jacket off? (Maybe Arthur had just been waiting all his life for someone to finally stand his ground to him, indeed…) Of course Arthur had let him go without punishment that second time - and any time since then (which was honestly difficult, as Merlin - always fighting for what was right more than for himself Merlin - frequently got riled up, be it in private OR IN PUBLIC, by literally anyone and anything).

Since he has been to Ealdor though, Arthur can’t help but see things under a new light.

Hunith is everything Arthur believes a loving mother to be. But there had been no father at home, nor any mention of one. (Arthur knows the sting of this kind of wound - missing a parent; and he had been saddened, as he had realized that Merlin bore such a wound too.) Arthur hadn’t dared to ask, but he had wondered: did Merlin ever got a father to start with; or had he been abandoned - intentionally or not? (Arthur knows how even an accident still feels akin to a betrayal in a child’s heart.) Which would be the worst anyway? But what if Merlin had been bullied through his childhood because of it? - children could be particularly malicious, when they intended to… Was it how Merlin had learned, the hard way, that fighting - both with his words and his fists - was the only way to end the pestering? And had decided it wouldn’t be only for his own sake, but for the sake of anyone who might ever need help? Was it what had brought Merlin close to Will - the fact that they both had lost their father? Was it the reason Will had wanted to learn magic to start with? (Arthur knows the near constant anger, too. As does Merlin, obviously.)

Arthur can’t help but feel grateful anew, somehow, and no matter what, still, that Merlin has had Will around: surely, no matter how bad the fights Merlin had jumped into, Will must have kept him safe - at least safe enough - *with his magic*. The thought had been unbidden the first time it had occured, and had definitely surprised Arthur; but he hadn’t been able to deny that it was what he truly felt indeed.

Because of course Arthur had come to care for Merlin. Isn’t it why he had gone to Ealdor to start with after all…

Merlin.

Definitely not an ordinary manservant. And probably not the champion manservant by any book (fast learner, and smart, and hard working, he was; but only about what *he* deemed important - hence for example his total disregard for any kind of storage? - but Arthur generally agreed with what Merlin deemed important or not anyway). But honestly the only manservant Arthur now could imagine ever having - or ever want to have.

Because Arthur likes Merlin as his manservant exactly just the way he is, and would now never wish for another - no matter (and specifically because of) how well-schooled and zealous to satisfy his every need (and whim) that hypothetic other might be… Arthur now sees what others might judge flaws as assets (Merlin’s clumsiness and chattiness are more endearing and uplifting than unefficient, especially as his opinions always sound reasonable; his sarcasm and insults are a sure way to keep Arthur’s head from ever getting inflated; and his challenging manners push Arthur to do and be better - from training with the knights to saving people’s lifes), and what others might judge insubordinate as being treated, for once, finally, as an equal, somehow (even though they both know and acknowledge they aren’t) - no matter whenever it comes out at Arthur’s expanse too, food getting shoved into his mouth and getting unceremoniously pulled out of bed included in their everyday banter, as Merlin can give just as much as he gets indeed. But that’s maybe what Arthur values the most: how Merlin’s respect feels earned and honest; neither forced by birthright or fear for repercussions, nor cajoling nor calculated.

Arthur has never had a private servant for longer than a year - his Father’s rule; but you bet Arthur is decided about keeping Merlin at his side when the year would end. He will have to strategize; he will need irrefutable arguments. But if he plays his cards well - and Merlin never ceases to hand him over cards to play - Arthur has no doubt that his Father will actually allow it: it’s in the best interest of the Kingdom after all.

Merlin.

A whirlwind. Always animated, always busy; never still, even when he’s doing nothing. But always so expressive - so easy to read - a fact Arthur has come not only to appreciate after decades around perpetually guarded scheming faces, but even to *trust*.

A chatty nature-loving poet with dangly limbs, gentle heart, and the brightest smile Arthur has ever seen - Arthur has come to know. Yet the sassiest mouth and the most unrelenting fighter Arthur has ever met; his utter lack of skills balanced by sheer defiance - Arthur has learned right from the start. (Merlin just never backs off, no matter the odds; which is very stupid, but also very brave.)

A confusing, clashing mess of contraries. But an admirable man, with a beautiful soul.

And you bet Arthur wouldn’t have him be any different.

Arthur shakes his head. Maybe - just like with his two left feet - it isn’t Merlin’s choice to be such a poet all the time. Arthur hasn’t been inside Merlin’s body for more than a few hours, and already he is turning into a maudlin bard himself, huh…

Arthur sighs; bringing himself back to the present - only to be struck by Merlin yet again.

Merlin has by now disrobed of everything except for the leather, which he has rolled up to his chest (logic; it would take too much time to tie it up all once more), and the tunic, which he now holds tightly in a bundle against his chest too, even if (and no doubt exactly because) it must get in his vision range as he enters the water. The lengths Merlin now goes again, simply to avoid to *see* - treating his body with the utmost respect, even when it is betraying him?

It should be insignificant, but the whole endeavour screams once more just how *devoted* Merlin always is, to him; and it is honestly dumbfounding.

He has been willing to die for me. And more than once.

The thought slices through Arthur’s mind; as usual charged with guilt, and heartbreaking, yet oddly sweet.

Arthur doesn’t understand: he has truly done very little to earn such high esteem - and that’s an euphemism. Getting the man in the stocks? Letting him drink poison destined for him? Having his only friend die?

But you bet Arthur cherishes it all the same. And he wants - oh, he WANTS - to be worthy of it. Not because it’s what he ought to do, repaying kindness with kindness, loyalty with loyalty; and definitely not because he owes Merlin a friend - you can’t replace a friend (even if Arthur never actually had a friend, he knows that it’s supposed to be a special, powerful, unique bond). Not even because Merlin does indeed makes him want to be a better man - even if that’s true, and definitely positive for the future of Camelot. But simply because HE. WANTS. TO. Arthur has realized by now how he is always tempted, whenever they are together: either to act silly in order to cause a smile; or to provoke Merlin until he bites. Both reactions feel peculiarly satisfying; spreading a pleasant warmth through his whole being - and Arthur just always has to smile…

So.

On impulse, Arthur disrobes Merlin’s lower half and enters the (indeed very cold) water while holding his tunic bundled up too, keeping his eyes stubbornly fixed on his own body sinking until the water reaches up to above its waist, as Merlin sits on his knees in the middle of the stream. And yes, the fact that Arthur has just chosen to abide by Merlin’s stubborn dedication on that matter, instead of letting his perpetual interest about literally everything run free, for once, (because yes, if he hadn’t witnessed Merlin’s commitment, Arthur might have taken a look at Merlin’s body, out of sheer curiosity; he wouldn’t though, not from now on…), is both a pledge and a self-serving whim.

Merlin, drawn by the sounds, turns to him with questioning eyebrows, and Arthur sheepishly drops on his knees next to him: “I thought it unfair to let you have all the fun on your own. Now, ready to scare the fish?”

Merlin howls with laughter. Arthur decides it’s definitely worth playing silly while freezing his ass off.

(Imbolc = 31 january)

Feel free to come and fangirl with me over 1.01 and then scream with me over 1.10 !

On a side note, I’m sorry but not sorry about that fish line? It was *totally* unplanned but then it just rolled out and I went 'yep, sure, arthur would, totally; it stays!’ ?

VI. THE PRINCE’S PART (ALTERNATE ARTHUR/MERLIN POV)

They get out; get dried; put their clothes back on. Merlin ties the towel to the branch, for future use.

Then, on their way back to the castle, Arthur asks Merlin about his agenda for the day.

Merlin gives him a look - like he’s unsure whether Arthur means it. Arthur gives him a look back - meaning he isn’t joking indeed.

Merlin smiles, eyes full of mirth: “Your chambers are a complete mess, your clothes need washing, your boots need cleaning, your dogs need exercising, your fireplace needs sweeping, your bed needs changing and, oh, *someone* needs to muck out your stables.” Merlin sobers up. “But we have more pressing matters at hand; so I think you can consider yourself free for the day.”

Arthur is taken aback. He recognizes his own words, of course. It’s both baffling and humbling - that Merlin can quote him, months later? and that Merlin has omitted one part and one part only in his old speech, because they both know his armour doesn’t need any repairing (the devotion Merlin shows those metal pieces echoing the devotion he shows to Arthur himself)? Arthur had first planned to give a playful thankful bow; but it would feel wrong.

“So. I’ll go bother Geoffrey. Try to get him to show me where the secret books are hidden. I’ll tell him Gaius has found a strange herb and wants to make sure it isn’t dangerous or something…”

Merlin has to give Arthur that: he is indeed insightful.

The mention of Gaius’s name though has Merlin slightly panicking again: Gaius doesn’t know yet about their current situation. What if he mentions 'something’ upon walking on Arthur thinking he is him? No. Merlin has to be there when they’ll get to see Gaius.

“Speaking about Gaius? Stay clear from his chambers. I doubt he’ll be as magnanimous as I am. He’ll do that thing with his eyebrow and have you pick herbs and brewing healing potions and concocting ointments before you even got a chance to tell him about our predicament - he’s really dedicated in my education as a physician, you know…”

“And I believe you rather enjoy it.”

“I do, indeed. I mean… It’s fascinating - do you know that the same stuff can cure you or kill you sometimes, depending on the dosis? Anyway, who wouldn’t want to know how to save lives?” Merlin can’t help but twitch. “I’m not sure I’m any good at it though…”

There is a flash of guilt in Merlin’s disheartened eyes, and Arthur realizes two things:

1) Merlin feels responsible for having been unable to save his friend Will. Which is understandable, because Merlin must have gathered by now some knowledge from Gaius’s lessons; but heartbreaking - because Arthur has seen enough arrow’s wounds to know that Will’s could never have healed - and perplexing - because Will has died to save *him*, not Merlin; so why would Merlin think the guilt was his to start with? and how come Arthur has never felt like Merlin might blame him for it either?

2) Merlin’s face is always *transparent* - a fact Arthur truly appreciates on Merlin’s face - but a fact that could turn out problematic, now that it’s on his own face…

“Let’s get back to my chambers. There is still something you should master better before the pleas.”

And that’s how Merlin finds himself positioned by Arthur in front of a mirror.

“What do you see, Merlin?” Arthur asks.

“Well, you?” Merlin feels he’s missing Arthur’s point, but he has no clue…

“Do you? Because I see my body, I see my clothes; but I do not see the Prince of Camelot - I’d like to think I play it better than that - and I must be, because my Father would not allow *this* I assure you - at least I hope or the kingdom is doomed.” Arthur ends on a sigh, shakes his head, and then turns commanding eyes back towards Merlin via the mirror. “Close your eyes, Merlin. Think of me. I mean, *picture* me; and more especially, picture me at any official activity you’ve served me through. See how I walk, how I stand, how I sit, how I move, how I look?”

Merlin does as asked, searching through his memories. After a while, he nods.

“Got it?”

“I think?”

“Then open your eyes, Merlin. What do you see?”

Merlin understands now. He can’t help but sigh helplessly. “Not the Prince of Camelot. Obviously. I’m sorry, Sire, I guess I’m just not… majestic enough to play you.”

“It’s not that hard, Merlin. Come on; I’ll explain. Ready?” Arthur grins at him via the mirror, exuding confidence - trust in him?; and Merlin would face (has faced) monsters to earn it indeed.

Merlin nods, their eyes still linked via the mirror.

“First thing first? You’re slouching.”

“Yes. (Merlin tries not to slouch; but is still not satisfied with the result) I think though the biggest problem is- There’s something wrong with your face.”

“Because you wear your heart on it, Merlin; and you mustn’t. Believe me, you do not want to be lectured for hours about this by my Father…”

Arthur moves away, and Merlin can’t see him anymore in the mirror. His voice is directing though, and Merlin focuses on the words to school his face.

“You’re a prince, so you *must* always look like one. No matter what you do, you must always, *always*, look confident. That’s the first strength of a kingdom - the strenghth of its ruler. That’s what keeps your people safe. So. Chin up, Merlin. Square your shoulders. Stand tall - stand *proud*.”

Merlin realizes the words are not Arthur’s; they’re Uther’s. He wonders how often indeed Arthur has heared those words - most probably often enough to give himself a internal pep talk before any official anything apparently…

“That’s better; but still not good enough. No matter how you feel inside must not show, Merlin. When you’re tired, hide it. When you’re sick, hide it. When you hurt, hide it. When you’re stressed, hide it. When you worry, hide it. When you doubt, hide it. When you’re bored, and even more when you disagree; hide it - it’s disrespectful; and we do not want wounded pride to fester, don’t we Merlin? When you’re afraid, definitely hide it. When you’re sad, hide it. And the trickiest part maybe: when you’re happy, hide it too - or risk whatever is making you happy to be taken away: weakening you is weakening the kingdom; and its enemies will never hesitate to bring you down, if you let them see even an inch of an opportunity.”

Merlin is shaken. He feels guilty, somehow. This is, certainly, too intimate. Merlin feels like he’s intruding. This feels even more trespassing than being in Arthur’s body. It’s like being forced in Arthur’s head, without his consent. It’s nauseating.

“Again, Merlin. Your eyes; focus. It’s a part; but it’s part of your job. So for the love of Camelot, Merlin, please try harder. Your people reckon on you to lead them and protect them; so it’s your duty to be a leader, and to be strong. Work hard; harder than anyone else. You *must* be an example, an inspiration. You must be admirable in everything, so that your people will follow you everywhere. But you must lead, Merlin; never follow. A ruler is alone - *must* be alone. Do not trust anyone; at least do not trust anyone more than anyone else, and surely not more than you trust yourself. Your own judgement must *never* be clouded.”

Merlin can’t help but turn towards Arthur at the words, both in disbelief and in ache… Because Merlin has grown up hiding, but he had never realized that Arthur had, too; and maybe even more than him. Arthur must not only always pretend and perpetually watch over his shoulder; he must pretend and watch over his shoulder *alone*. And Merlin can only imagine how hard that must have been, and be. Back at Ealdor, Merlin had (and still has) his loving mother, and he had Will. Even here, now, Merlin has Gaius. And somehow, yes: he has Arthur too, Merlin suddenly realizes; and then feels ashamed, because he can’t help but feel blessed - Arthur trusts him. Because Arthur is definitely less guarded around him, isn’t he? When it’s just the two of them; Arthur and Merlin? Arthur laughs, Arthur doubts, Arthur *shows*; maybe not everything - but that’s probably not possible as he is so trained - but something at least always shines through; even if it’s by putting his feet on his face… But Merlin knows now, how rare and precious it truly is. They can never be friends, maybe; but Arthur trusts him. That’s undeniable; and that’s everything, somehow.

“Do not look at me; look at the mirror, Merlin. Harden your eyes. Smile; always politely, even when you don’t want to smile at all; more genuinely, when it’s true - but never let it go up to your eyes. First thing about tomorrow too; as we’re at it. Hear everyone out. Listen with your full attention to everyone; whether you agree or not. Never decides right away; except if it’s necessary, in war time. Your decisions must be thought upon; never a spur of the moment. If something is unclear, do not let it show during concil. If you favor a position, do not let it show during concil. If you disagree, do not let it show during concil. You need further advice, or even only further information? Seek the appropriate person in private; ask man to man. They will see the honor in it if it’s positive, and be thankful you kept it private if it’s negative. Also. You must be ready to be impartial, Merlin; because you do not need to be kind, but you must always be fair. You may - and you will, unfortunately - make mistakes; but never ackowledge them. Fix them. If you can’t; repair as much damage as possible. Learn from your errors, in order to never make the same mistake again. But never apologize. Come on Merlin; I’m sure you can do it. You’re nearly there.”

More over, Merlin realizes the Arthur he gets to see nowadays - the true Arthur - has always been there already, even under the pretense of the moron. Kilgarrah is wrong. His destiny isn’t to change Arthur; because there is nothing to change. Arthur already has everything to be a great king, the greatest king, all on his own.

And so, Merlin is *angry*. He has now yet another reason to despise Uther, it seems - scarring his child on the inside in such a way. Of course Arthur always feels inadequate; of course Arthur feels lacking; of course the only bond Arthur values is the one with his fellow knights - ride to glory or death, together? It’s the only bond Uther has authorized him to authorize himself to ever have… But Merlin’s anger is a good thing, apparently - because whenever Merlin thinks about Uther, Arthur finds that he’s playing the Prince’s part better.

“There Merlin, you have it. See? Right there. Lock it; just like that. That’s good enough for anyone looking today; because believe me, someone *will* be looking, even if only my Father and not the one who switched us or anyone else with ill intentions - there is *always* *someone* looking, Merlin.”

Fine. Think about Uther; until the pleas are done. Merlin can do it; and he’ll gladly do it. He’ll probably gladly do anything; for Arthur. He can still have a cry or hit a wall afterwards, right…

Arthur needs a hug. I volunteer. Anyone with me? (besides Merlin, obviously…)

VII. DOOMED (ARTHUR POV)

With a last commanding yet encouraging nod, Arthur leaves Merlin by the Great Hall’s entrance and starts to make his way towards the Library.

He is stopped by Merlin’s name being called out twice - because he has failed to react right away; Arthur chastises himself. It is the headmaster recruiting hands: his Father wants his bath ready when the pleas end.

Arthur doesn’t want to bring Merlin in trouble, of course; so he takes on the ordered job - after all, how complicated can it be?

He is paired with a newcomer answering the name of George who looks up to him as if he holds the sun: the Prince’s manservant! Which isn’t that bad. Until he starts, seemingly embarrassed but curious all the same, to ask questions like “Is the Prince as terrible as they say?” or “Is it true he throws knives?” and such? Arthur tries to explain that the training field is, well, to train? He isn’t sure the message gets across though, as George only holds his eyes with a perplexed gaze…

Arthur can’t help but hope that Merlin at least understands that he’s not only training himself but also trying to get Merlin to know how to defend himself if not to attack whenever he comes at him with a mace or anything… He should maybe make his intentions clearer, apparently…

Anyway. After yet another round of carrying buckets full of cold or warmed-up water up and down and left and right, Arthur realises there is more to it than it looks; and the bath is only half full still…

And when they’re nearly done? His three coworkers and the headmasteer seem satisfied, but Arthur can’t help but think while bringing up the last two buckets that they achieved nothing more than a luke warm bath with a clean but no particular scent. Merlin’s baths are definitely of a superior category on both accounts, and Arthur doesn’t know if he should feel guilty and spoiled for regularly enjoying better baths than the king himself, or more amazed or worried about Merlin’s bath-preparing skills (is he even thinking about his safety? he wouldn’t actually carry boiling water up the stairs, would he?)

Arthur decides he should address the issue. And maybe take baths downstairs from now on just in case - a little backroom near the kitchen would be more practical than his chambers, wouldn’t it? When the space isn’t needed for banquets preparations and such of course…

Arthur misses the first step towards the second floor (it’s actually the eleventh time today that he misses a step - he still isn’t used to Merlin’s feet). This time though, his balance is too lost for him to compensate and he falls backwards, landing on his butt and ready to get soaked and hit by the water and buckets he has released when instinctively freeing his hands (one to help catch his fall; one to protect himself from the falling projectiles). Except nothing comes: no water, no hit - and no falling sound either. And when Arthur takes a look? The buckets and water are… floating above his head?

Arthur gasps in surprise, his mind going both blank and reeling…

Then only does Arthur finally get drenched and hit on the shoulder.

Arthur blinks. Twice.

What has just happened isn’t normal, at all. Only - only magic could make such a thing possible!

Arthur looks around, instinctively - scanning for a threat.

He is alone; the corridors are empty as far as he can see, and he hears no voices, nor steps.

Which is good, because no one is attacking him then.

Which is the worst though - because if there is no one around… then the only person responsible for what he has just witnessed must be - is - HIMSELF?!

Arthur gasps again; this time in panick.

His first instinct is denial. But he knows what he saw. And somehow, it just makes sense, doesn’t it?

It’s not the body of the Prince that whoever switched him and Merlin is after. It’s his mind…

Put him in the body of a servant, give him magic, and sooner or later (and most probably sooner) he is bound to die by his Father’s law. What is he supposed to say in his defense? That he IS the Prince, in another body which had been given an ounce of magic on the sole purpose of getting him executed? Who would ever believe him…

In the meantime, the schieming sorcerer must have judged that a servant in his body may be too delighted by the upgrade in status to be a threat to his plans and would gladly unknowingly collaborate, on top of being totally untrained and incompetent at any of his duties.

Then? One only has to kill the King, either by making him ‘ill’ or using the same trick again and - for sure - Camelot is doomed to get wiped out from the map by the first band of Saxons passing by (and most probably enticed to pass by very soon after its King’s death): its only true heir gone, and the supposed one obviously improper to defend it. All of it without casualties on the attacking side, and without anyone knowing how it all came to be, which means no one, even loyal to Camelot, would have a reason to stand against the new regime put in place.

Arthur is more afraid than he has ever been - and he has been in combat enough for that fact to mean something. He feels crushed; defeated, even before the battle - and honestly? He has never despised himself that much. No matter that he has never felt both so unprepared and so intrinsically useless - and not even able to trust himself: surrender is simply inexcusable. Camelot depends on it.

Besides, Arthur owes it to Merlin to fight, right. It’s after all Merlin’s body that’s to die along his spirit. Oh! The villainy, the cowardice in this attack! Use an innocent victim as a vessel to be sacrificed. Sorcerers definitely have no sense of honor indeed.

So. Arthur is angry now. A much more suited mindset, he decides - as long as he doesn’t allow it to blind him. And he won’t. Merlin’s body depends on it too.

Arthur takes a deep breath. He has been taught strategy even before he could talk, right? Time to make a plan of action.

First. He is not as alone as Camelot’s enemy has calculated him to be. He is, in fact, not alone at all. He has Merlin.

Loyal Merlin; not only willing but even devoted to getting back into his own servant body rather than happily playing the prince. Magic familiar and open-minded Merlin - which means Arthur has not only someone who won’t judge him nor fear him to confide in about his new endangering (and in so many ways) abilities, but also someone who might have some basic understanding of it; since he was Will’s friend? Heart-in-the-right-place Merlin: too kind, maybe (but he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it); but naturally just and fair Merlin. Brave, fierce, tenacious Merlin; too reckless though (but again: he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it). Ressourceful Merlin, fast-learning Merlin: he would master his body’s strength, eventually; and Leon would be here to lead the Knights in the meantime… Arthur takes an oath. Even if they fail to find a solution to their problem, Camelot won’t be left unprotected. Come what may; even the worst? Merlin *will* be ready to take his place. Having Merlin’s unique edges smoothed out feels wrong; but it just has to be for show, right?

Second. Well, there is no really second yet; at least not more than what they have already planned. They need to find some books - and pray that they will be useful. And Arthur will just have to be particularly attentive about not repeating the kind of blunder he just did with witnesses present.

Yes. Merlin. Books. Start at the beginning; and with luck, it might just work out in the end.

Arthur cleans up as best as he can, using and wringing his soaked tunic in the buckets, then runs to Merlin’s room for a set of dried clothes. Turning up to retake his place at 'Arthur’’s side while drenched would only draw unwanted attention…

So. Basically? Yep. This is a magic-reveal unreveal fic. But. I mean… It’s Arthur? Also: this fic (to me) is canon (fitting) - so it just can’t be a reveal fic. Bonus: it explains too why Arthur doesn’t get the courage-magic-strength trio hint later on. He thinks Merlin is magic; but only because there is some residual trace to sense from when his body had magic (aka this fic), not that he actually has magic still at the time… Arthur can be at the same time very aware yet very unaware, and he can be so very biased and decided to see things his way, no matter how circumvoluted, right? (Also, of course Arthur thinks in fact then that HE is magic in the trio: he was after all the one inside Merlin when his body had magic; and Merlin IS courage - Arthur has such a low self-esteem to start with…)

On a side note: Arthur would actually trust Merlin with Camelot (even despite his limits). If that doesn’t tell you all there is to tell then I don’t know how to express it. *SIGH* *GROSS SOBBING* (Gwen though is innately made to be Queen - but Arthur doesn’t know that yet. He isn’t wrong about Merlin though - for Arthur’s memory? Merlin would do his best to be a great King too, you bet…) *GROSS SOBBING AGAIN*

VIII. MERLIN’S CHAINMAIL (ARTHUR POV)

“Merlin! My boy! You’re soaked! Did you provoke Arthur again and end up under the well for it this time?”

Great. Gaius sounds half amused half concerned. Does actually *everyone* think him to be a brute?

Well; nevermind. Merlin knows better, right - and that’s what matters. Merlin is never backing away, Merlin is never really complaining; Merlin just watches him with mirth in his challenging eyes: I dare you. Of course Arthur HAS TO then… It’s like… kind of a private wordless conversation only the two of them understand. But honestly? Arthur wouldn’t trespass Merlin’s limits - if anything, Arthur would probably even feel guilty, if Merlin actually ever made one known…

But then, Gaius is patting his shoulder, pushing him towards 'his’ room; and Arthur is stunned silent, as he can’t help but relish on the (for him unusual) affectionate paternalistic small gesture.

“Get changed. Get warmed up. You’ll tell me later. I haven’t heard the bell signaling the end of the pleas, it is already so late? I’ve just finished Sir Kay’s potion, and it should be drinken warm, as you know; so I’d better be on my way. We’ll prepare Uther’s draught and the balm for Little Kathleen’s knee when I’m back. Also, I’m afraid I’ve ruined my coat; if you could work your magic on it next time you’re mending Arthur’s clothes, I’d be very much obliged?”

And then Gaius is gone, and Arthur is still stunned, but now for another reason - it was but a polite turn of phrase, of course, and Arthur knows Merlin just isn’t capable of miracles, as proven by the state of some of his shirts - beyond mending; but Gaius would better not use some idioms that carelessly around the palace - who knows who might hear and takes things the wrong way… Arthur shakes his head as he hurries to change, feeling sorry for letting Gaius down, but not planning to stay around until Gaius comes back - he wouldn’t know anyway how to prepare his Father’s nor Kathleen’s medicine, right…

Arthur opens Merlin’s cupboard.

There are only two folded set of clothes (neckerchief included indeed), and Arthur just takes the one on top.

He’s about to close the door when his eyes fall on Merlin’s chainmail.

The first time Arthur had told Merlin that he had been assigned to lead some patrol, Merlin had right away asked:

“When do we leave?”

Arthur had been surprised, then had tilted his head, apprehending Merlin while explaining that coming along was to be Merlin’s choice; and not per se his duty as palace manservant. They usually asked for volunteers; there was extra coin to be earned and such.

Merlin had only repeated:

“Sire; when do we leave?”

Arthur had been surprised again, but definitely pleased:

“Tomorrow at first light.”

“I’d better start packing right away then. What do you need?”

After having listed their necessities, Arthur had mentioned that he would have a chainmail sent to Gaius’s for Merlin to wear. Merlin had countered that he had no wish for carrying extra weight around as it would only slow him down in his chores; and that he would rather wear his everyday clothes. Arthur had said it was folly to go unprotected - they would patrol the borders, and thiefs and saxons could fall on them - and Merlin had finally relented some and agreed to wear a chainmail he would self adapt as he wished above some clothing but under his tunic. Arthur had been suspicious when Merlin had turned up the next morning without even a cap showing out, and had actually moved his neckerchief aside to make sure Merlin was wearing metal under his tunic…

Without hesitation, Arthur takes the chainmail out too, deciding he should wear it under his clothes. After all, the longer Arthur might succeed in hiding his new abilities, the more chances there are that the one responsible for their troubles might choose to turn to more expeditive measures of his own. Killing a servant might go unnoticed for awhile, and would work just as well in case whoever had planned this got tired of waiting for Arthur to betray himself and get executed. Which means that Merlin’s body is just walking around as a mark waiting to get hit… and Arthur should do his best to protect it. Merlin’s chainmail is barely worth its name; but it does cover his chest, belly and back, at least.

Arthur makes it back to the Great Hall right on time for the end of the pleas. It was the moment they had planned to stage for Arthur’s injury; but Arthur discretly but authoritatively signals 'no’ with his head. It would be too risky; what if while falling he instinctively uses magic again - in front of the whole court? Merlin gives him a curious look but follows his cue anyway, thanksfully. There is still enough time to create an excuse before training; and they can still tell he fell even without witnesses anyway. It would have been a nice added touch at make-believe, but Gaius vouching for them should be enough on its own, right?

As they walk in silence back to Gaius’s quarters, Arthur feels Merlin’s eyes upon him, boring and questioning. So when they pass by his chambers, Arthur takes the opportunity for privacy. Once behind closed doors, Arthur leads them to the most private corner, as far from the door as possible. Then he takes a deep breath, and turns towards Merlin to explain… everything.

He hasn’t got the time to start though before Merlin hushes out, worry evident in his voice, pointing to Arthur’s side where a hint of metal is visible if you pay attention - and Merlin always pays attention, doesn’t he:

“Sire? Why are you wearing my chainmail?”

AN: It’s canon after all that Arthur doesn’t force Merlin to come along - he lets him leave before Camlann, right? But yes, this is just me giving some sense to the 'just let’s Merlin accompany us everywhere without any kind of protection’ unacceptable general policy. So. Merlin *has* some protection. We just don’t see it. Okay? And the few times he’s actually in armor on patrol, it’s because they need a decoy or something… Also, just so you know: Merlin of course thought that Arthur would probably think that he didn’t want to be seen in a chainmail because he didn’t want to look like a soldier in order not to seem a danger nor a target, but Merlin just couldn’t care: he HAD to be an unconspicuous nobody - it made it easier to protect Arthur with his magic if no one really paid attention to him. And to end with a cute note: whenever they ride out ? Arthur always checks that Merlin wears his chainmail - a fact Merlin can’t help but always secretly revel in…

IX. REVELATIONS (MERLIN POV)

Arthur looks anxious - which only makes Merlin worry more.

“I found out… why I was put into your body. I’m sorry, Merlin. I wear your chainmail because your body is in great danger; and it’s all because of me… again. ”

“Wha-”

Arthur cuts him with an imperative gesture from his hand, voice hushed - even though it echoes in Merlin’s ears like a shout:

“I have- I mean you have… Magic!”

Merlin’s breath catches; panick rising. Arthur knows! Arthur knows?

Arthur seems to read his struck expression though as simple denial.

“Yes, Merlin; you heard right! Magic! I saw water and wood floating above my head - floating, Merlin! - That’s the only way to explain it! But I have no idea how it gets triggered, I have no idea how to control any of it - I fell and it happened, I guess, instinctively? Now you understand why I couldn’t have us stage a fall… If people find out? *When* people find out? My Father will have me - YOU - beheaded!”

Merlin’s eyebrow furrow. He doesn’t understand. If Arthur knows he has magic? How come Arthur looks *contrite* instead of angry; afraid *for him* instead of afraid of him? Not that Merlin is complaining about the fact that Arthur obviously doesn’t wish to see him beheaded, of course; his evident worry is even heartwarming, in a way… but heartbreaking, too, as Merlin can’t help but feel that Arthur’s reaction must be induced by some reason that he doesn’t comprehend yet but that has little to do about him having magic at all…

Arthur then fully explains his theory about their attacker using his body to get to Camelot by erasing Arthur, then Uther, and marching against a Camelot lead by an unprepared servant playing Prince. Merlin is shocked, and shaken. Because indeed Arthur’s reaction isn’t about him having magic at all, but about Arthur feeling responsible for his body’s impending doom. But what hurts the most yet is the heavy guilt that settles upon Merlin’s chest - crushing, constricting, inescapable - as he realizes that in fact everything is his fault! Arthur’s thinking may be flawed on one account; but the rest of it makes sense, indeed. And so Merlin cannot deny that Arthur has been targeted and put into his own body because whoever did this actually knows that he has magic.

And so Merlin feels panick rising again, and even worse than before. It is already complicated enough for Merlin to hide his powers - and he has had practice at it since his birth. How could Arthur ever successfully hide them for long… And to think that *HE* might be the cause of Arthur’s death? It’s worse than anything; worse than everything. And it’s devastating. Merlin can’t hold Arthur’s gaze anymore.

Arthur probably thinks he is overwhelmed by the surprise of his body being a target though.

“And I’m sorry - again, Merlin - but I can’t go and hide at some random remote place until I’ve worked out how to subdue it at least, if not suppress it. There is no time. I can’t leave Camelot; not when it’s so endangered.”

Merlin feels like screaming: Arthur shouldn’t apologize; Arthur shouldn’t feel guilty - It’s all on him!

“It’s all right, Sire. I know you’re right: we have to stay here. After all, our best shot to end this mess is to find guidance in some books; and our best shot to find said books is staying here.” (Also, you bet Merlin isn’t willing to leave Camelot either because he is going to consult with Kilgarrah… Merlin had planned to go to the Great Dragon at the first occasion right when he had realized they had switched bodies; but he now can’t help but wish for the night to come even sooner.)

Arthur looks surprised by Merlin’s easy acceptance as he lets out: “I was going to point that out too?”

Arthur seems to hesitate an instant, taking a deep breath; but then, probably finally enticed by the fact that they still are on the same page apparently, he hushes out words that Merlin had never imagined he would ever hear, even in his wildest dreams.

“Now that’s settled… Do you have any idea that might help me keep it in check? I mean… Back in Ealdor? Did your friend Will maybe ever share something with you that we could use? Anything?”

Merlin’s mouth falls open; but nothing comes out of it. He realizes just how surreal it must have been for Arthur to utter those words. But Arthur looks decided, as always. He means it. And that’s when Merlin realizes Arthur is in fact ready to *learn*. Arthur still doesn’t trust magic, and definitely doesn’t trust his magic now that he has some; he only sees it as a treacherous condition. But he is willing to face it outright, instead of wishing or pretending it isn’t even there to start with. And Merlin realizes that this isn’t only proof of Arthur’s mighty heart; but that it also might actually be their saving too, with some luck?

And so Merlin just HAS to take a chance. Anyway, Arthur *needs* him; and how could Merlin ever let him down to start with… Besides, what if it made Arthur realize that magic isn’t only to be feared; that magic can be good, too, actually?

“Maybe you shouldn’t learn how to keep it check, but how to have it *work*?”

Arthur opens his mouth now, either in shock or to retort - or both; so Merlin hurries to push his point.

“Hear me out, please. Even when we do find an helpful book? The spell we’re under must be very powerful - I mean, have you ever heard or thought this could even be possible? - so we might still require magic too in order to perform whatever will be mentioned in the book? So yes, your new abilities are supposed to be our doom; but maybe we can turn them to our advantage? You have MAGIC, Arthur. If you can control it and use it - on your terms? Maybe that’s just what we need to solve our problem?”

Merlin waits. And Arthur isn’t taking the opportunity to repel his idea. Silence goes on; and still, Arthur isn’t refusing. If anything, he looks… thoughtful, even if doubtful. But there’s resolve, too; and maybe, even, a spark of hope? So Merlin just takes the final plunge.

“As you said… I might have… some basic notions about it? It’s worth a try, Arthur. What do you say?”

Merlin’s heart is pounding so hard it’s going to break his chest for sure, as they hold gazes for a long time - Merlin silently pleading for Arthur to just trust him. Then Arthur gives him a firm nod.

“I say this is probably folly but we have to try, indeed. So. You train me? And I train you.”

Merlin tilts his head, unsure about the second part.

“There are things I want to teach you, Merlin”, Arthur explains; pleads even. “In case we stay stuck in each others body no matter what we try; in case your body should- I know it’s a lot to ask, especially as I apparently keep making your life a hell just by existing? But will you please let me prepare you to take my place, if necessary?”

Merlin’s breath is knocked out of him. Arthur would trust *him* with *Camelot*? But Merlin cannot even contemplate it. Arthur cannot be gone; musn’t be gone; will not be gone. Merlin’s voice is fierce as it simply refutes the prospect.

“Sire, it won’t come to-”

Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder.

“It would mean a lot to me.”

And what can Merlin do then, but promise - and mean it:

“Anything, Arthur.”

The hand leaves his shoulder, but Arthur’s eyes stay fixed on him.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

And Merlin takes another oath - this one to himself. They’ll work it out. They’ll make it work. They will.

They both feel guilty for endangering the other more than they are worried about themselves *heavy sigh*

X. TRAINING (MERLIN POV)

Gaius is working on finishing Uther’s draught when ‘Arthur’ surprisingly comes in without knocking.

“Sire? Do you need-”

Merlin hasn’t prepared a speech on their way (how do you announce this anyway?) So he just blurts it out, as Arthur comes in after him and takes place at his side.

“We need your help, Gaius. Our bodies have been switched. (pointing to himself) Merlin. (pointing to his body) Arthur. We awoke like this this morning.”

Gaius looks stunned - of course. Then, for the shortest of times, he looks unconvinced; but this is after all Camelot, where strange things always happen, indeed - and not only Arthur would most probably have better things to do than playing along with Merlin’s pranks; but also Merlin wouldn’t have the heart to make *such* a prank to start with - not to him. So Gaius looks concerned now, gaze jumping with worry between Merlin and Arthur, holding Merlin’s eyes with a question in his eyes - and Merlin knows what’s worrying him.

Merlin can only give Gaius though a fragile smile to assure him that he is all right along with an apologetic look in return. He isn’t sure Arthur would want anyone else knowing about the magic too, so he will have to wait for a private occasion to explain everything to Gaius. For now, he just sticks to the plan.

“Arthur is expected to train soon, and we thought you could give us a way out of it. No one should be aware that Arthur isn’t Arthur until we’ve fixed this.”

Gaius doesn’t even hesitate.

“Of course (nodding to Merlin). I’ll go and tell you injured your sword arm (nodding to Arthur).”

Gaius goes out, mentioning coming back later to make Little Kathleen’s balm. Once the door closes, Arthur says he wonders what Merlin has in mind for 'training’. So Merlin decides he should help them both at once.

Merlin looks around for something basic, and his eyes light up when they fall on two bowls - not only basic but also potentially useful, if it works? He sets them on the table in front of Arthur: one stays empty, the other one get filled with water.

“Here. Try to make the water move into the other bowl.”

Arthur looks at the bowls, then at Merlin; incredulous.

“I’m not sure- I mean, even if I make this work, how am I supposed to put ourselves back into our bodies that way? How can I perform whatever must be performed if I am out of the performing body?”

“This is just a beginning, Sire. This is just a way to have you… feel your magic? Find it, and use it as you wish, when you wish. But if you need a valid reason, I promise this will be useful too, when you’ve mastered it.”

Arthur seems perplexed. Merlin confides, voice low as if sharing a secret: “We won’t have to disturb the fish anymore?”

Arthur is apparently too stressed out to even smile, sadly. But he gives Merlin a satisfied nod. “I’d better start trying then, huh.” A helpless sigh follows though. “Any hint about how to feel it to start with? Where to find it?”

Merlin hesitates. Not only because he wonders how much he can tell without Arthur realizing he knows too much, but also because he struggles about how to put into words what he has always simply felt. He has never had to search for it; it had always just been there. But maybe he can describe it by telling what he doesn’t feel, since he’s in Arthur’s body?

“Don’t search for 'where’. It’s not in one place; it’s everywhere. Not only in your body; literally everywhere - earth, air, water, fire. Like a… warm… tingling… flow? When you’ve found it, try to concentrate on it, focus on it, in order to direct it towards what you want - with your hands, your eyes, your voice; whatever works?”

Arthur’s brow has only deepened from the explanation, and Merlin can’t help but sigh:

“I’m sorry. It’s gibberish. I don’t know how to explain-”

“What you can’t know”, Arthur cuts him with a wave of his hand. “Of course. I have to find it on my own. Thank you for trying, at least?”

And so Arthur goes to sit at the table, facing the two bowls, while Merlin starts on the balm for Little Kathleen’s knee (hopefully for the last time, as her recovery seems to be going well, thanksfully) - both to feel useful and to give Arthur some kind of privacy. His moving around though must be disturbing, because Arthur switches place, turning his back to him. But it gives Merlin the freedom to check over his shoulders from time to time without risking to meet Arthur’s eyes.

This isn’t working though, Merlin can tell, by the time he’s done preparing Little Kathleen’s balm (he waits for Gaius to check if he got all doses and ingredients right though before finishing; he has only done it once) and a sleeping draught (for the guards guarding Kilgharra’s tunnel) (Gaius has had him prepare Morgana’s draught several times already, and has explained how to up the doses while keeping it safe): Arthur looks nothing but tensed, when he would need to be relaxed in order to feel… Trying too hard is nothing but counterproductive.

That’s when Merlin realizes he’s been going at it the wrong way. Arthur is not him. Arthur is *Arthur*. And when Arthur is at an impasse and needs a clear head? He trains. Activity helps him focus. Exhaustion helps him forget. To find his inner ground, Arthur must be physically busy; not sitting hunched over a table looking at two bowls.

Merlin eyes again his surroundings: spoons should work. Gaius has them in lots of size, both wood and metal. Merlin bundles them all in his tunic, and calls for Arthur as he passes in front of him.

“Let’s try something else. You can work on the water later on.”

Arthur’s eyes follow him questioningly up the stairs. Merlin sets his collection down, then holds a spoon up.

“Try to stop it from falling to the ground.”

Merlin let the spoon fall. It hits the ground, of course; but Arthur surely looks now interested by the new challenge. Merlin smiles, and lets another spoon fall.

After five rounds, Arthur gets up and gathers the spoons before handing them over to a crouching Merlin, instead of having Merlin going down, and up, and down, and up… A few rounds later still, Arthur picks up a spoon he has missed on his way and calls out for Merlin to catch it instead of walking back. Merlin misses it though, and it lands on his arm. And that’s when Merlin thinks his new idea can even be perfectioned.

He takes the offending spoon off the ground and holds it at the ready, eyeing Arthur, waiting for him to understand. And Arthur does, of course.

“Merlin? Are you threatening me with a spoon?”

Merlin grins wolfishly. He throws, and Arthur easily dodges, laughing.

“How long have you been waiting for such an opportunity?”

“Forever?” Merlin lies, before throwing another spoon, which Arthur blocks with an upraised arm.

Merlin can’t help but scowl: “You’re supposed to make the spoon divert its course; not block it or move out of its way.”

Arthur has actually the decency to look apologetic: “I know. Sorry. Reflexes.” Then he smirks. “But please, indulge yourself and do go on.”

And Merlin does. And it’s glorious somehow, how they are suddenly both intent and carefree, spoons clattering everywhere on both sides as Arthur now throws the spoons back to Merlin too. Hits land on both sides too, as they both throw quicker and harder.

At some point, the door opens and a spoon hits… Gaius.

“Sorry”, Merlin lets out, hurrying down to check he hasn’t hurt Gaius.

Gaius looks at the both of them with incomprehension, but Arthur explains even before Merlin has even opened his mouth.

“We’re actually working on something, Gaius; not destroying your chambers. (the slightest hesitation - but if Gaius is to be their ally then Arthur has decided he should know, well, everything, it seems) I have been jinxed too, on top of the body swap. It appears I have been given… magic; to be my doom - and well… Merlin’s body end.”

Gaius looks sort of disapprovingly to Merlin at the M word, but his gaze softens somehow, even though it turns outright anxious, as Arthur further explains his theory about their attacker’s plan.

“So, now you know it all, Gaius. And we also need your help for something more than giving me an excuse not to train… We need… information. I thought… You and Geoffrey go way back, right? Maybe you could persuade him to lend you a few special books?”

Gaius nods, eyeing Merlin.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Arthur nods back.

“In the meanwhile, I have to understand how it works, in order to prevent anyone finding it out until we’ve found a way to lift the spells?”

“Of course. Just let me take what’s necessary and I’ll leave you to it.”

Merlin then shows Gaius his previous work (safely tucked away in his room after the first round of spoons throwing - and yes, it also gives Merlin the opportunity to silently let Gaius know where his book is hidden, so that he will be able to retrieve it later on and present it to them as coming from Geoffrey or something). Gaius proudly tells he got everything right and gathers it all into a bowl.

“I can finish the balm in the kitchens. I’ll be back to bandage your arm though later on, Merlin; our Prince is supposed to be injured, and our King will want to check on his son right when he comes back from today’s hunt and hears about it.”

They start again where they had left, but nothing magical ever happens still, and after some time, Arthur exclaims in annoyance: “Maybe you should use knifes?”

And Merlin understands the logic; but Merlin just… can’t. He counters with an idea of his own.

“Maybe I should tie you up on a chair so that you can’t dodge them anymore?”

And Arthur gives a shrug… then goes to sit.

Merlin finds some rope and tie Arthur’s legs and chest to the chair. He hesitates, then tie only Arthur’s left hand behind the chair.

“In case it helps if you aim”, he explains.

Then Merlin is facing Arthur again. The spoons hit; one at a time. But Arthur glares at them - never at Merlin; and so Merlin goes on.

And then… (they’ve been going at it for so long that Merlin has stopped counting rounds) a spoon finally *stops*, mid-air, before simply falling vertically to the ground instead of keeping its course.

Merlin’s mouth falls open as Arthur keeps looking at his hand in wonder.

“Did you see-”

“Yes!” Merlin can’t help but shout happily.

Arthur meets his eyes, looking even more resolute than before.

“Again.”

Arthur doesn’t stop lots of spoons (yet, hopefully); but he regularly stops or redirects one.

And then, Arthur looks at his hand, and then at him, both in wonder.

“It *is* warm!”

And that’s definitely progress in the right direction, if Arthur has *felt* it.

The look they share is actually hopeful, for the first time since this began.

After some time, Merlin decides they should take a pause. Arthur still has to prepare him for tomorrow concil too, right?

So Merlin starts asking about what he should know for the coming concil right while untying Arthur’s legs.

“Will was definitely lucky to count you as a friend.”

Merlin’s eyes jump to Arthur’s in surprise; not only from the compliment, but also from the repeat mention of Will. Before today, Arthur had never mentioned Will, since they had left Ealdor.

Arthur doesn’t notice. Or - more probably - Arthur notices but goes on anyway; he is nothing but brave after all.

“I never had a friend, but I believe friends are supposed to help each other out, right? And well, you’re good at helping out, is all. And I know I have little to no right to talk about him; but I think you should know that I’m grateful, and that he has my respect, Merlin.”

Merlin is utterly speechless. Arthur has finally found, it seems, a way to shut him up. And to get him teary-eyed to boot. Merlin lowers his eyes to the ground.

“I believe he was a kind man. I mean- He must have been, of course - I don’t see you befriending someone cruel or-… But even taking only my own judgment into account? I suppose he could have probably done more harm than a whirlwind. But he didn’t. He wanted to defend, more than to attack; there is nothing malicious in that. It’s unfair his kindness caused his end though. Sometimes, maybe, it’s necessary to be the first to strike; even if you can never know how actually well-founded that decision then is; and you have to live with it.”

Merlin feels guilty, again. And angry. Does Arthur have to remind him that Will’s death is his fault? For all his magic? Merlin is indeed nothing but *useless*, indeed. He works on finishing to untie Arthur as quickly as he can.

Arthur must have read the inwards directed angry shake of his head for something else though, as he lets out a somewhat apologizing sigh.

“I realize I’m very biased, Merlin; because if he had used his powers in a harmful way? I would probably have been the first to accuse him of being a monster. (pause) But he hasn’t. And I haven’t searched for any magical powers - yet here I am.”

Another sigh; nothing but helpless this time. So Merlin *has* to look up. He has failed Will. He won’t fail again. He won’t fail Arthur. Arthur’s gaze is lost inward though.

“Sire”, Merlin pleads, hunting Arthur’s eyes then locking onto them.

Arthur fidgets; Merlin can’t help but note the oddity and rarity.

“I just- I realize this is the strangest thought to have while we are yet again under a sorcerer’s threat, but… Maybe not everything is always as black or white as I’ve been told all my life? Maybe not everyone with magic is actually evil? … Will? Me? … Again, maybe I’m only very biased. Because who knows then how many might have been wrongly punished- (a heavy sigh; wondering and remorseful this time, as Arthur shakes his head, apparently thinking about his Father’s deeds as his own - as he has allowed them to come to pass without opposition for so long…) But I *have* to believe that it’s possible to have magic without being corrupted by it. I mean… What if it sticks? Even after…”

“Arthur”, Merlin starts again as Arthur’s voice falters - even though Merlin still has no exact idea about what he wants to say; at least not in what order. Arthur’s genuine regrets and palpable fear are boring a hole right through his heart; just as Arthur’s words about Will and about magic (it is a step in the right direction; no matter how small) spread warmth through it too. Merlin’s possible soothing or grateful words in return all feel just tangled and messy and worthless and not enough and-

Arthur clears his throat, then softly exhales as he finally looks away: “I don’t really know what I’m trying to say, Merlin. Except… I’m glad you’re here?”

Maybe Merlin has conveyed what he couldn’t put into words through his eyes after all…

And then Arthur stands up, and his voice is back to his usual, assured tone.

“Now. One problem at a time, right? About the concil tomorrow…”

And Merlin listens, you bet.

So yep, yet another 'I’m glad you’re here’ (MY HEART). And spoons just had to be involved, indeed (I’m weak, blame 5.03)

XI. DESTINIES ARE TROUBLESOME THINGS (MERLIN POV)

Merlin can’t help but be on his guard. He has no idea, he realizes as he enters Kilgarrah’s cave after having successfully put to sleep the guards in front of it (after a shortened dinner with Uther and Morgana), about how the Great Dragon will react to a stranger’s presence in his lair.

But Merlin needs some guidance; and so, he calls out to him…

“Young warlock, what has happened to you?”

“You know it’s me?”

“Of course. Even though I am surprised indeed by your current appearance.”

“Arthur and I- Our bodies have been switched.”

The Great Dragon straightens up.

“So this is Uther’s heir’s body?”

“Yes. And I need - we need - help. Do you have any idea about how to reverse such a spell?”

“I do not have such knowledge. I can only tell you what you already know; that there is some very powerful magic at work here. (pause, tilting his head) But maybe you are not supposed to reverse it to start with.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are now *literally* two sides of a coin - both at once in the same body. Maybe this was the intent of the prophecy all along.”

(helpless, shocked sigh) “No.”

Merlin cannot believe his ears. But the idea is not only incongruous; it’s also outright enraging, and simply *impossible*.

“No”, Merlin repeats, firmly this time; a denial.

“You would throw away the opportunity to fulfill your destiny? You would carelessly discard the chance to bring forth the greatest time for Albion?”

Merlin doesn’t even flinch under the Dragon’s ire. *Arthur* is his destiny; and only Arthur. Albion’s welfare is in Arthur’s hands. And Arthur *will* be its greatest King; not Merlin. The notion only makes him sick. It’s not even about a possible guilt at cheating Arthur’s crown (which he doesn’t want to start with). It’s simply that Merlin wants - needs, and will not (and never) accept anything less - Arthur to be Arthur, intrinsically. Besides, Merlin knows the burden of pretending already; and he wouldn’t wish for anyone, and certainly not for Arthur, to have to shoulder it too. How can Kilgarrah not realise any of it?

“This just cannot be the way. It only feels wrong.”

“You should at least think about it, Merlin.”

“It is all decided. I cannot and will not abide to the belief that this masquerade could ever be our true fate. And if you don’t - can’t or won’t - help, we’ll look for a solution on our own - no matter how long it might take.”

They hold each other’s gaze; and Merlin won’t relent.

“I can only hope you will not come to regret your choice, young warlock”, Kilgarrah finally says as he flies away.

Merlin is still fuming as he enters Arthur’s chambers.

His fingers itch, longing to search through his spells book. He hasn’t had yet the opportunity - between being a Prince taking most of his day, and Arthur being at his side when he had been off duty. Unfortunately, it will have to wait until tomorrow - it would look suspicious if he went out in the night.

So. He should rest. After all, a clear mind will be necessary in the morning, both for council and for finding a way to break the spell they’re under, right?

Only looking at the bed though makes Merlin’s entrails twitch in disgust. This is wrong indeed; and will never feel otherwise. And no matter how comfortable that bed is, Merlin now knows (he might grow understanding of Arthur’s lack of will to leave it on some mornings from now on, huh), you bet he will never even contemplate sleeping in it.

Merlin makes his bed for the night on the floor, wondering if Arthur has been able to fall asleep yet.

Bear with me. The Dragonlord bond is an intrinsic link between souls, which is why it isn’t affected by the body swap. Whereas magic inhabits everything it’s in, and is therefore by nature anchored in physicallity. It explains too somehow why magic in general can be learned/found, but that the Dragonlord bond can only be inherited. Oh well, it makes sense in my head, at least…

Also :( I’ve really hurt myself with Kilgarrah’s last line :( Because of course Merlin *will* wonder about this, *for centuries*, later on (my heart:(). Anyone willing to hold me while I cry, pretty please?

XII. SOMETIMES, YOU PUZZLE ME (ARTHUR POV)

“Sire, you should rest.”

“Just a little bit longer, Gaius. Until the candles are out.”

“As you wish.”

A respectful bow; then Gaius is on his way to Merlin’s room, giving Arthur space and quiet - and only when the door closes does Arthur realize that he just kicked an old man out of his own bed?

Well, let it be worth it then, right! Arthur closes his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to connect with the magic inside. He actually feels it, now that he knows what to search for. He has no idea still though about how to have it work, apparently…

He can’t help but wonder briefly if Merlin has been able to fall asleep yet, before concentrating again on that damn water…

Arthur awakes, wincing, still at the table. Gaius has left bread and jam out for him, and he hastily eats before running out to help Merlin prepare (both physically and mentally) for concil. It is still earlier than he thought it was it seems, luckily. The kitcheners have just begun their work; Gaius does prefer to pick herbs in the early morning indeed. Arthur takes some bread and jam for Merlin, as little else is ready yet, and makes for his chambers.

When he gets in, Merlin is putting his clothes on. He is nearly finished; only the tunic and the coat are still laid out on the already made bed. Arthur approaches to help him with fastening the ties, and so notices the spread-out covers and pillows on the floor behind the bed.

“Merlin? Did you actually sleep on the floor?”

“Well, that bed of yours is way too soft”, Merlin retorts (even though Arthur DID see him getting out of said bed just the morning before: it hadn’t been too soft apparently, when Merlin hadn’t known it was Arthur’s, huh…), trying to cover his embarassment before walking out, heading for the stream. And Arthur has no choice but to follow, shaking his head while wondering if there would ever come a day when Merlin would stop astonish him…

After having left Merlin at the concil’s door, Arthur gets back to his bowls and water.

He has no progress to show though still when Merlin comes in and gives him a very detailed summary of what has been discussed. Arthur is thankful - even though he hasn’t doubted Merlin’s capacities (Merlin acting like an idiot or being clueless about etiquette doesn’t mean Merlin isn’t clever, indeed).

Then Merlin takes up the spoons, and helps Arthur train more actively about his magic again. They are both pleased to discover that Arthur is now able to divert about a third of the projectiles.

“Why am I getting better with the spoons and not making any progress with the water?”, Arthur wonders aloud.

“I am certain you will figure it out, Sire”, Merlin only has time to pledge as Gaius walks in, holding out a book and placing it on the table - which definitely ends the spoons training as Arthur and Merlin come to gather around it.

Gaius and Merlin seem to be waiting for his cue, so Arthur is the one to open the book, feeling both hopeful (this book might contains the answer to their predicament!) and worried (what if this book is simply full of evil?).

Arthur starts to read silently, both cautious about eventual passers-by overhearing and unwilling to invoke any probable further disaster on themselves by reading what could be spells aloud, a finger tracing along the opening line.

“Magic is potential, and possibilities. Its use is a choice, and a responsability”, Merlin whispers, echoing what Arthur is reading.

Arthur is stunned, and can’t help but blurt out in disbelief, turning his attention on Merlin:

“You know how to read?”

Merlin only shrugs.

“Sure I do. My mother taught me, along with the other kids from Ealdor. You know, the fact that it surprises you that a peasant can read probably says more about Camelot’s rampant illiteracy than about me?”

And Arthur can only admit it’s true:

“You’re right. We should probably ask Geoffrey to organize something about it.”

Then Arthur points at the book:

“But of course you may read along; it concerns you too. It might be safer though not to read aloud, you know…” (gesturing around, waving a hand)

“I can do that too”, Merlin assures.

So Arthur sits down on the bench, motioning for Merlin to do the same next to him. Gaius sits on the opposite bench - ready to give advice or help if needed; or ensuring they do not damage the book before it gets returned to the vaults?

They read further in silence, two pairs of eyes following the path of Arthur’s finger.

Arthur quickly realizes though that the first part of the book focuses on magical creatures, and skips through it - it might be handy, but it’s not what they need at the moment (he can’t refrain from briefly pausing though passing by the unicorns page)…

Then they reach the spells section, and Arthur turns tense.

And rightly.

When he understands what the first spell is about, he can’t help but shout out, pushing the book away:

“This is what Valiant did! How can we trust this book of tricks?” - this is nothing but evil indeed.

Of course Merlin just HAD to read that opening line aloud while in Arthur’s presence, huh…

XIII. PROGRESS (ALTERNATE MERLIN/ARTHUR POV)

“This is what Valiant did! How can we trust this book of tricks?”

There is fire in Arthur’s eyes - an anger at Valiant’s deeds that Merlin doesn’t wish to see grow blinding. Gaius gives Merlin a look, and Merlin understands that Gaius wants to be the one explaining - to protect him, surely. Merlin signals ‘no’; but Gaius is speaking anyway before Merlin has even opened his mouth.

“Sire, Valiant’s actions were definitely condemnable indeed; but the book is not to blame. It simply explains how to animate figures - it doesn’t tell *why* the spell should be used; that intent is entirely the responsability of the one using the spell. So yes, Valiant used such a spell to kill; but such a spell can be used to save or help too; can be useful and good.”

Arthur doesn’t seem convinced at all, judging by the growling tone in his voice:

“How could such a spell ever be used for good?”

Let’s say you need to animate snakes out of a shield at your will to confound an evil man and save a noble one; Merlin thinks but does not say, pleading Gaius to let him deal further with Arthur’s ire. Merlin has often pondered of course, even if with little success, about the best way to explain it all to Arthur. But he realizes, suddenly, that using Arthur’s own words and opinions might be the most helpful in that regard.

“Remember what you told me, Sire; about Will? So. Having magic is *not* having a weapon. It’s simply having *a tool*. You can use an axe to build a shelter or to break down a door - and even then, you might only be breaking that door to save blocked-in people from fire. You can use a shovel to plant an apple tree or to dig a grave - and even then, it might be out of respect and love, in another culture. The axe or the shovel have nothing to say about why they are used for. In the end, maybe, the only thing magic actually reveals is what’s truly in one’s heart.”

This approach works better, apparently. Palpable facts he experienced himself weigh more than rethorical theories in Arthur’s thoughts process. Arthur tilts his head, actually considering now, instead of refusing it all at once.

“So. This spell? Let’s say you badly injure yourself while alone and away, and you conjure a horse to carry you back home quickly enough to be saved? Let’s say a child is crying and you create a butterfly or something, to bring up a smile?”

“A butterfly, Merlin?”

Arthur looks incredulous but sounds, if anything, teasing - which Merlin interprets as a sign of progress, a smile growing on his face. He only shrugs though, playing along.

“What’s wrong with a butterfly?”

“Nothing, I guess, indeed. Let’s go on then.”

They read further for about an hour, Gaius preparing potions behind them. Arthur never shouts out again, but expectantly looks at Merlin on the few occasions he apparently feels like he might maybe be missing the whole picture. And Merlin just goes with it; the surprised yet somehow satisfied glow in Arthur’s eyes each time in some way worth the risk of possibly divulging too much…

Until dinner time comes, and Merlin has to go. He takes his leave, telling Arthur he should read on. Arthur’s answer leaves him breathless.

“I’d probably see things only one way on my own; who knows what I’ll miss… I’d rather bring the book to my chambers while you eat, and you can read further later. Besides, I should work on my water, you know… Be ready for it, in case you find something.”

Merlin can only nod, speechless from Arthur’s obvious trust.

As he opens the door, Arthur surprises him yet again, talking to his back: “And just so you know, I wouldn’t put you in the stocks for sleeping in my bed while you’re, well, me. What would the guards think if they saw me sleeping on the ground? ”

The tone is more gentle than gloating, and Merlin feels warmed up as he realizes Arthur is being simply honest. It doesn’t change his view on the matter though.

“I told you, Sire; I do not find your bed comfortable to start with.”

He doesn’t dare to look at Arthur as he walks out.

Gaius has proposed to bring the book to his chambers. He said he had to bring Morgana her sleeping draught anyway; but Arthur couldn’t help but sense that there was more to it - maybe he’d rather not have 'Merlin’ seen with such a book, maybe Geoffrey has made him sworn an oath to never let it out of his sight… Anyway, Arthur doesn’t have it in his heart to deny Gaius the demand.

Once alone, Arthur sits again in front of his two bowls. He closes his eyes, reaching *inside*.

It’s a tool. He tells himself when he senses the flow. Not a weapon.

There had been something in the way Merlin had talked. It had sometimes felt more like mentioning actual events than thinking aloud (Had Will ever performed any of the spells they read about?); especially - even though surprisingly - about…

It’s harmless. Merlin says it can be used to make butterflies.

Arthur takes a deep breath; focuses - visualizing in his head what he wishes to achieve.

When Arthur opens his eyes, the water has switched bowl.

Arthur blinks.

Then a loud “Yes” echoes in the room.

Arthur makes several times the water switch from bowl; then the books on the shelves from order (size, alphabetical, themes (as it was originally)) - he doesn’t dare mess with Gaius’s ingredients though, of course. At some point, he eyes the chamberpot and tests it too, like Merlin had mentioned they could once Arthur would have gotten how to. And indeed, it works too! Arthur can’t help but feel proud, trying to imagine the look on Merlin’s face come morning…

Then Arthur realizes maybe they do not have to be under the spell to start with any longer! What if he can just wish it away? Sadly, though, it doesn’t work; no matter how much nor how hard Arthur tries. Feeling a bit defeated now, even though he knows he definitely booked progress, Arthur decides he should go to sleep. With any luck, he might need all his energy tomorrow, if tonight turns out to be as fortunate for Merlin as it has been to him…

Gaius hasn’t come back yet - he probably stayed with Merlin to study the book; after all, as Court Physician, no one would question how long he stayed by his injured Prince… Arthur opens the door to Merlin’s bedroom - he doesn’t intend to keep Gaius out of his own bed tonight too…

As soon as possible, Merlin excuses himself from Uther’s and Morgana’s company to get to his book.

Since Gaius has given it to him, he hasn’t really had time to study it - mostly, he’s called forth through his magic the necessary spell or information when he needed any. He hopes though that the book will help them again, as it has in the past, and that he will find something useful in the over two thirds of the spells section he hasn’t read yet…

It’s late into the night when Merlin’s heart skip a beat. A spell-breaking spell? This might work, right! After all, one doesn’t have to reverse a spell to have it undone! Merlin rereads the pages again, and wishes the morning to hurry in order to show his finding to Arthur and Gaius.

Arthur saw magic as a weapon, of course. Which was sort of getting in the way of having his magic work for more than blocking the spoons attacks, because he felt still somehow that he *shouldn’t* use it, no matter the need to use it to fix their problem. But now that Merlin has had him understand, at least for a while, that it isn’t by definition a weapon, Arthur somehow feels like it is all right to use it. Which is why it works this time? It makes sense in my head, at least?

And imo Merlin wound’t link magic to a weapon both because he wants to unmake that precise link existing already in Arthur’s mind; but mostly because, well, he doesn’t see it that way - HE USES IT TO MAKE BUTTERFLIES, RIGHT (and I love him for it, HUGE sigh…)

XIV. THE SPELL (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur reads the pages Merlin just put under his nose with the utmost attention. A spell to break any spell? That sounds promising indeed!

Arthur can’t help but worry though, as he realizes that the primary condition for the spell to work is that the enchanted person(s) has to be truly, entirely, honestly willing to see the spell lifted for it to work (AN: which explains why Merlin cannot use that spell later on whenever Arthur is bewitched by the way…). And it is not about Merlin (positively-glowing-from-hope-right-now Merlin, sleeping-on-the-floor Merlin) Arthur has doubts about; it is about himself.

The truth, Arthur realizes with a shock, is that he likes it now, somehow - having magic!? Since Merlin told he saw it as a tool - not a weapon; and since Arthur has been proven that he could master his new abilities? Arthur has started considering apparently, at the back of his head, how it could turn out handy, how it could turn out good, for his people? What if he could multiply crops on bad years, ensuring no one would starve that winter? What if he could protect the borders, ensuring no one with ill intent could pass? *What if he could*- And that? That is the most dangerous, treacherous thought Arthur could ever have. Not only because it would be ill advised to rely on something that might disappear just as quickly as it has appeared to start with, but because the fact that he feels *tempted* to use it at all might be a signal of its luring, corrupting qualities. Who knows what he might get tempted to use it for, in time? Will there even come a limit? And that is what frightens Arthur the most - to succumb to its call. It would start with a genuine heart, but who could know how so much power might ever alter his first intentions?

So. No; indeed. He mustn’t entertain those thoughts. He should use magic to fix their current situation, and he will, simply because it is the only way to fix it to start it; but it would be for the best if it just disappeared along with it the moment their problem is solved. Besides, he owes it to Merlin, right. Because what if the magic stayed in Merlin’s body, instead of staying with his mind after they get back into their own bodies anyway? He would never wish to see such a risk, and a burden, on Merlin’s shoulders - particularly as he would know he would be responsible for it…

Arthur takes a deep breath, letting go of what could be, to focus on wishing for what must be.

The preparations are quite quick - Gaius already has everything they need in stock. It’s merely a mix of relaxing herbs, Merlin says as he aligns several pots of herbs in front of Arthur, that Arthur will have to crush into his hands. If anything, it smells nice, Arthur can’t help but notice with satisfaction. Somehow, the fact that it isn’t nauseous makes it feel not-evil.

The incantation is more tricky. It’s about six lines of text Arthur has to memorize and chant; and most of the words Arthur has never heard, so… Again, why can’t he simply wish for the spell to disappear - like with the water? Merlin explains that Arthur has to make the words his own while focusing on what he wishes - because it’s not only about working his own magic but also about lifting their attacker’s magic control on their bodies (even though it’s all a bit unclear whether the words of the spell are actually what makes it happens, or if they only help him achieve a certain level of inner focus that makes it happens - but Merlin might not know everything anyway, and whatever the reason, Arthur just HAS to master the incantation then anyway.)

It doesn’t seem to work, though. Hours later, and still nothing has changed; no matter how often Arthur has recited the spell nor the amount of herbs he has crushed into his hands. It’s not only frustrating and disheartening - it’s simply infuriating: Merlin and him were both so hopeful this might be it!

“It will work. *You* will make it work, Sire,” Merlin swears, voice steady, clear eyes unwavering, each time Arthur starts again.

Arthur closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries again. He owes it to Merlin’s faith in him to keep trying.

And then, suddenly, it’s done. Arthur has no idea what finally did it but he knows it’s done: he hears HIS voice chanting as Merlin gasps. And when Arthur opens his eyes, he sees Merlin, and not his own body. And the crazy thing? For a split second, it feels weird.

“This is real, right?” Arthur can’t help but ask, still in disbelief.

“I told you you’ll do it,” Merlin answers, beaming at him - proud of him, even.

They exchange a winning grin. Then Arthur howls.

The surge of victory and relief ends quickly though, replaced by crushing worry.

“Do you feel any different, Merlin?”, Arthur has to ask, as he doesn’t feel any warm tingling when searching inward. He is relieved to feel free from it; but not if the cost is that Merlin is tied to it now.

Merlin blanches, most probably from realizing the danger he could be in, and doesn’t answer right away - which is good, because it means that Merlin is actually doing an internal thorough check; but the silence is simply excruciating.

“Please tell me it’s gone,” Arthur can’t help but whisper, as if speaking the words could make it truth, even knowing he’s lost any ability to make it so.

#merlin #merthur #bbcmerlin #bbc merlin #merthur fic #merlin fic #my own two spells #the body swap #the once and future fic #text #fic #fanfic #complete

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