Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~x~

Their mother had always been special. With her raven locks and her golden sparking eyes and her exuberant laughter.

That's how Merlin and Morgana always remembered her too. Laughing happily as their father spun her round and round and round, her skirts flying and fwooshing around them in waves.

She'd make fireworks explode over the beach in the summer with a blink of her eye and fireflies buzz out of thin air over their beds at night. She'd brew tonics for colds and salves for bruised knees. She'd weave lavender in Morgana's bracelet for when her nighttime visions grew too vivid and make Merlin mint tea for when he felt just a little too much, ran a little too hot. She'd sing, too. Well, hum. Singing was more their father's thing. His deep, soothing voice always calming. Always grounding. Always. And then…

For as long as they could remember, their aunt and uncle would tell them the story of their family. Instead of goodnight tales, instead of lullabies, that’s what they’d heard. And for as long as they could remember, it would always start the same way.

Morgana would take Merlin by the hand and whisper for him to close his eyes. Then, when their aunt and uncle would begin to speak, images would twirl into existence behind their closed eyelids one by one.

It would begin, always, with a field, filled with grim looking people. And with gallows, occupying the center of the field. On those gallows, a young woman would stand, a noose loosely wrapped around her neck.

“For more than two hundred years, we, the Ambrosius family, have been blamed for everything that has ever gone wrong in this village,” Uncle Gaius would start.

“Is that why people hate us so much, Uncle Gaius?” Merlin would inquire, his favorite dragon plushie gripped tight in one arm and his sister’s hand squeezed in the other.

“They don’t hate us, sweetheart, we just make them a little nervous.” Aunt Alice would smile reassuringly and pat them both on the cheeks.

The people around the gallows were all scowling, all the time. Women, much more so than the men, who only looked...forlorn and lost and more than a few, completely broken-hearted.

Uncle Gaius would snort then, shake his head and continue. “Let’s face it, Al, we Ambrosius’ have always created a stir. And it all started with our ancestor Nimueh. She, you see, was a---”

“Witch!” Morgana would whisper, and Uncle Gaius’ lips would twitch into a smile.

“Yes, a witch. She was the one to start us. You, dear ones, would be the most recent in a long, and distinguished, line.”

“Is that… is that why they wanted to hang her?” Merlin’s voice would always, always break on that. “Because she was a witch?”

“Well, the fact that Nimueh was a bit of a heartbreaker certainly didn’t help.” Gaius would chuckle. “Nor did it help that most of her lovers had wives on the hanging committee.”

The woman with the noose would look over them all, a serene sort of look on her beautiful, pale face, her long locks billowing around her with the soft wind.

“Well I don’t think it was either of those reasons,” Aunt Alice would continue, giving Uncle Gaius A Look, and making both Merlin and Morgana giggle. They too, had A Look between them and knew perfectly well what the use of it was. “I think they feared her because she had a gift. A power that had been passed on to you, children. She had the gift of Magic. And it was this very gift that saved her life.”

Before they could sentence her, she’d step off the stool herself, and the noose would snap, and she’d land on the ground, safe and sound. The people around would scatter like dust in the wind, screeching in fear, making her smirk in defiance, her bright blue eyes dancing with golden sparks.

“Failing to kill her, they banished her to this very village, her unborn child growing inside her belly.” Uncle Gaius would usually pause there, to make both children some warm milk before continuing. “Here, she waited for her lover to come and rescue her.”

“...but he never came,” Merlin would tell Morgana in a whisper, and she’d nod sagely, a sad, mournful look on her face.

“No one came.” Uncle Gaius, when he so chose, could be single-mindedly brutal.

“In a moment of despair, Nimueh cast a spell on herself, that she would never again feel the agony of love.” Aunt Alice would plop a teaspoon of honey into their cups then and with a single spark of gold in her eyes, the spoons would mix the honey up until it melted. “As her bitterness grew, the spell, well… it turned into a curse. A curse upon anyone who ever dared to love an Ambrosius.”

“So is that why Daddy died? From the curse?” Morgana would mumble through a mouthful of honeyd milk, and Aunt Alice would pat her cheek gently as Uncle Gaius would nod and continue.

“Yes, my darling. Your mother knew. She heard the beetle ticking for your father’s death all day long. She knew that when you hear the sound of the Death-Watch Beetle, the person you love is doomed to die.”

Aunt Alice would always smile then, taking their, now empty, cups and fluffing up their pillows for them. “But that’s how you came to live with us; we tucked you into our lives and raised you the best way we knew how.”

Merlin and Morgana would grin at each other - the greeting of ‘In this house, we have chocolate cake for breakfast. And we never bother with silly little things like bedtime or brushing our teeth!’ always ringing in their ears at that part of the story.

“But with the sweets, comes the sour.” Aunt Alice’s smile would drop then, even as she continued trying for a brave face. “So when you find yourself the center of attention, it’s not that they hate you. It’s that, well… we’re different.”

~x~

Morgana’s skirts were trailing after her like waves on sand, and she ran, a joyous grin on her face. Merlin was running behind her, his eyes more on the other side of the fence where a crowd of the village’s children were gathering. He hoped Morgana wouldn’t notice them. No such luck.

“Hello.”

Merlin winced internally. His sister was far too damn social.

“Would you like to play?” she asked them, a smile still open and wide across her face.

The kids stayed silent and just stared. Merlin moved closer to Morgana, anticipating what was about to come next before it did. He was still too slow to shield her from the apple that hit her straight on the forehead and knocked her to the ground. He was, thankfully, close enough to catch her as she fell.

“‘Gana!” He lowered her down slowly, just as the chant picked up.

“Witch witch - you’re a bitch! Witch witch - you’re a bitch! Witch witch - you’re a bitch!”

Merlin picked Morgana up, his blood boiling, eyes sparking golden fury, barely contained, and carried her back to the house as she hid her face in his neck and doused his tee shirt in quiet, hot tears.

Silence reigned over the table where the four Ambrosiuses sat. Gaius and Alice exchanged a glance before both raising their cups and taking a sip.

“Morgana, Merlin,” Aunt Alice started, waiting until both teens raised their eyes to her and continued. “You know, the only curse in this family?” She gave a little dainty chin thrust over to where Uncle Gaius was sitting. “Is sitting right down there at the end of the table.”

Merlin and Morgana gave a little giggle, while Gaius sputtered.

“Oh come on, Al, even you have to admit that anyone who falls for one of us is bound to end up six feet under,” he stated morosely, taking another sip of his tea.

“Spare me!” Aunt Alice waved her brother off.

“What about my poor Leila?” Gaius sent her way, his eyebrow raised in the way that always managed to impress his niece and nephew.

“An accident!” Aunt Alice said assuredly, turning to nod at both Merlin and Morgana in turn.

“Pish posh! It was fate.” Uncle Gaius disagreed firmly.

“Accident!”

“Fate!”

“Accident!”

“Fate!”

Merlin watched the verbal ping-pong match intently before uttering, “Mommy died of a broken heart, didn’t she?”

Uncle Gaius nodded, offering him a sad little smile. “Yes, my darling boy, she did.”

“Hey, my sweet little witch,” Aunt Alice interrupted the settling morose mood with her sunny expression, “let’s go inside and do some spells.”

“What about my homework?” Merlin asked, his lips twitching up a little in the corners already.

“Ah, pish posh. You will both learn things in this house that you will never learn in school!” Uncle Gaius huffed, jumping spryly to his feet and herding Merlin inside, while Aunt Alice led Morgana with just the smallest of pokes to her shoulder and arm, making her niece giggle.

~x~

It was a regular school night, so, naturally, both Merlin and Morgana were dressed in their pure white angel attires, complete with the sparkling haloes (very much magic) and fluffy feathery wings (not so much magic).

They had just had their evening chocolate cupcakes and were now practicing their spells.

Merlin closed his eyes, focused and blew softly at a wick of a candle. A second later, it crackled and burst into a beautiful little flame. Merlin whooped in joy.

“Very good, Merlin! You know, you’ve been blessed with a gift,” Aunt Alice cheered, clapping joyously at his progress and never stopping spinning her wheel.

“What about me? All I got are those stupid visions…” Morgana pouted from where she was perched crouching atop the table like a kitten.

“Oh, we don’t worry about you, Morgana-dove, your other talents will emerge in time,” Uncle Gaius soothed her, collecting dried sage bundles from a perch he’d been drying them on.

Morgana grinned, and Merlin sent her a conspiratorial wink in turn. There were very mature giggles all around then, right up until frantic knocks began at their kitchen door. The knocks were soon followed by the sound of nails, rapping on the kitchen door’s window.

“Merlin-dear, you two stay here, keep working on those spells.” Uncle Gaius stood, already moving towards the kitchen, Aunt Alice on his heels.

There was a woman, still rapping her nails on the window when they arrived. Aunt Alice and Uncle Gaius exchanged another Look, and nodded to one another quickly.

“Get the bird,” Aunt Alice said softly, her face grim.

“Get the book,” Uncle Gaius snorted in response, moving to their conservatory already where he grabbed a pigeon from their cage.

Aunt Alice, meanwhile, rustled up their ancestral Grimoire, placing it reverently on the table and opening the page they’d need unerringly. After all, it wasn’t the first time they had this particular situation on hand.

“I want him so so much. I can’t think about anything else I don’t sleep I ---”

The voice trailed up to the stair landing where Merlin and Morgana sneaked down to watch their aunt and uncle work.

“He has to leave his wife he has to he has to leave her now.”

They huddled behind the railings, watching through the bars as Aunt Alice threaded a needle and a woman they’d seen around the village sat at the table, wringing her hands.

“Perhaps, you might find one better suited…?” Aunt Alice suggested softly. She was always much more soft while dealing with their clients than Uncle Gaius, Merlin had noticed. Morgana would always echo their uncle’s eyerolls however, making Merlin snicker.

“N-no, I don’t want anyone else! He’s a-all I think about! I---” The woman was nearing hysterical fast. “Why the hell else would I come here!?”

Uncle Gaius approached then, a pigeon in his hands, and he absently ran a finger over the bird’s head in soothing little motions. “Take the money, Al,” he instructed his sister quietly, stopping beside the seated woman.

As soon as a rolled up bundle of cash dropped to the table, Aunt Alice handed over a silver tipped needle to the woman, who took it with a shaky hand and turned towards the bird, held out to her by Uncle Gaius.

“I want him to want me so much he can’t stand it,” she said, her voice strong with conviction but still shaky, and she plunged the needle into the pigeon’s heart.

Merlin gasped, and hid his face in Morgana’s neck. Morgana, meanwhile, watched the scene closely, her eyes gleaming.

Aunt Alice took the needle, looked at the single drop of blood, gleaming at the tip and smiled serenely. “Be careful what you wish for.”

On the stair landing, Merlin was shaking his head, his whole frame wracked with shivers. “I hope I never fall in love, I hope I never fall in love, I hope I never fall in love…” he whispered over and over and over, hiding his face in Morgana’s skirts.

“I can’t wait to fall in love,” Morgana whispered back, patting his head softly.

~x~

It was nearing midnight, and it was past their bedtime even by uncle and aunt’s standards. Merlin was alone in the conservatory, his only lightsource the light of a full, white moon shining brightly through the open terrace door.

“He will hear my call a mile away,” Merlin read carefully from his Grimoire, plucking a night-blooming flower from one of the many, many pots littered about the conservatory and plopping it into his mortar.

“He will whistle my favourite song.” A different bloom joined the first.

“He will be able to ride a pony backwards.” A third bloom dropped in.

Morgana wandered in then, their black kitten purring in her arms. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously, peeking over Merlin’s shoulder into the list he was tracing with his finger on the page.

“Summoning up a True Love spell called Amas Veritas,” Merlin told her in his ‘isn’t it obvious, duh’ voice. “He can flip pancakes in the air.” Merlin gently pulled out a petal from a white rose to add to his mortar. “He’ll be marvelously kind.” He reached up for another rose petal, this time from a bloom almost at the topmost shelf. “His favourite shape will be a star.” He picked a verbena bloom carefully, before adding it into his mix. “And his eyes will be blue like the summer’s skies, they’ll be the bluest in aaaaaaall the land,” Merlin finished with a grin and a wink to Morgana, picking two bluebells and popping them into the mortar as well.

Morgana frowned at the bluebells, her voice gentle when she turned to her brother. “I thought… I thought you never wanted to fall in love, Merls. Not to mention, he?”

Merlin chuckled at that. “That’s the point, ‘Gana, the guy I dreamed up? Doesn’t exist. And if he doesn’t exist, I’ll never die of a broken heart, will I?” He blushed a little then. “And yeah… I… I figured there’d be even less of a chance if it’s a guy.”

Morgana’s eyes were soft. “But… do you?”

Merlin nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I… girls are nice too…”

Morgana stepped up to him, snaking her arm around his waist and leaning her chin on his shoulder. “Yes, they are, aren’t they?”

Merlin turned his head and rubbed his nose on her cheek. Morgana grinned.

“Oh finish it then, will you?”

So Merlin stepped onto the terrace, Morgana faithfully by his side, and raised the mortar up, letting the moon shine her light upon the petals and blooms collected there. As the siblings watched, the petals started lifting up, invisible strings pulling them up up up and in the light of the full, white moon, they flew away and out of sight.

And if he doesn’t exist, I’ll never die of a broken heart…

~x~

Chapter Text

~x~

Years tend to rush on by when one’s young. They did speed up and slow down on occasion, both Merlin and Morgana feeling like their lives were not dissimilar to a seashore, most days. Tide would come and rush back out into the open sea, and they’d be left with whatever remained after the storm.

They’d pick up each other’s pieces, Merlin smoothing out Morgana’s edges, Morgana, hissing the bullies away, scaring them off with sparkling eyes and billowing skirts.

And so they had their aunt and uncle, they had their magic, and, most importantly, they had each other.

As years went one by one by one, Merlin and Morgana grew. Always by each other’s side, always together. They were each other’s rock, each other’s lantern in the dark. Different as they seemed, they were the same when it came to loving one another.

They loved like their magic grew, fierce and loyal and always in each other’s corner.

They were, however, different as well. While Merlin was… maybe not completely happy, but content at least, here, in the home they managed to make out of the craziness of their aunt and uncle’s house, Morgana craved more. Craved as she did everything else, fiercely, loudly and with burning determination. And when Morgana was determined? Nothing and no one would ever be able to stand in her way.

~x~

He knew it’d been coming. Had known for a good long while now. Had been dreading the actual night. Did know for certain on the night of her birthday. She had blown out the candles on the cake he had baked her (with Uncle Gaius’ help, granted, but he had done most of the work while Uncle Gaius had just sat on the counter with a glass of wine and ranted, so there) and she had that glint in her eyes and ---

And he just knew the time had come.

~x~

He had been looking out into the dark, pretending that the huge frames that sat upon his nose were actually helping him see better in the dark when she shoved into his room. She didn’t knock. Not that she did, usually, but this time, she at least had the excuse of her hands being full.

“Merls, Merls, get the door, getthedoor!!!” Morgana had giggled through her grunts as she stumbled into Merlin’s room and went straight for the balcony, a huge traveling bag slung over her shoulder.

Merlin took one last glance into the night, noting that it was warm, cloudless. The moon was full and shining bright - it gave him comfort - she’d be safe at least. The moon wouldn’t let her daughter come to harm. With a sigh, he closed the door to the terrace while Morgana heaved the bag overboard and tossed it down, straight into the arms of the man that was waiting below with a grin that lit up his face.

“Wow…” Merlin offered, tonelessly, fingers digging into the frayed edges of the fluffy bathrobe he had wrapped himself into.

“Merls, Merls, you have no idea,” Morgana giggled, straddling the railing and tossing the man a bright grin of her own.

“You…” Merlin started, swallowed against a dry throat, tried again. “D’you really love him so? Enough to want to… marry him one day?” he spat the word out, her youth, her spark driving a dagger into his heart.

“Oh c’mon, Merls, what’s enough?” Morgana asked, her grin still going strong, the spark in her eyes shining brighter with each little motion that drew her further from him. “I hate it here. I wanna go. I just wanna go where no one’s even heard of us. Not ever.”

Merlin flinched. He knew, he knew she hated it here. She was always far more… well, it wasn’t that she was more emotional, no. It was just that she felt deeper. Stronger. It hurt her more. The bullying, the taunts. The waving of ‘protective’ symbols in front of them, the crossing of the street, the… The list went on and on and on.

“I feel like I won’t ever gonna see you again,” Merlin whispered, hated himself for not being able to hold his tongue, prayed that at least his smile held.

Morgana snorted. “Of course you’re gonna see me again, you doofus! We’re gonna grow old together. It’s gonna be you and me! Living in a big house, these two old, bat-shit-crazy, grumbly old bats with all of these cats, oh my goddess, Merls, all.the.cats.”

Merlin had to chuckle at that.

Morgana looked him straight in the eye and nodded, all seriousness. “I bet, we even die on the same day.”

Merlin grew serious too. “You swear?”

Morgana looked at him, really looked. Then she turned over the railing towards the man, who was, very patiently, still waiting down below for his princess to descend her tower.

“Honey,” she called in something that, Merlin thought, was probably meant to be a whisper. “I need your pocket knife!”

The man grinned, pawing around his pockets before throwing up a little blade.

“There,” Morgana whispered, a smile glinting in her eyes before she took the knife and sliced open her right palm. “My blood.” She took Merlin’s left hand and gave her cut a sibling. “Your blood.”

They clasped their bloody palms together then, Merlin finally feeling like he could smile genuinely again, like he could breathe.

“Our blood.”

“Our blood.”

Merlin pulled her into a hug then. “I love you, Gana.”

“I love you too, Merls.” Morgana’s smile wobbled for the first time that night as she pulled away. There was sadness there, but no regret. Merlin couldn’t begrudge her. So he made his smile stay strong and let her go, giving a little awkward wave as his baby sister clambered down from their terrace and into the arms of her beloved.

Morgana jumped onto his back with a laugh, sounding happy and free, and Merlin watched as she waved up at him, beaming, as her man turned and ran out of the garden, his own laughter a little breathless, but no less happy than hers.

As he watched them go, he listened to Morgana’s happy and excited giggles and sighed. It wasn’t like he didn’t get it - he did. He understood the craving she had; he had it too, after all. For adventure, for seeing new things, meeting new people. Doing more than meeting said people.

He knew what he looked like, puberty’s been more than generous to him. Where Morgana had been gorgeous even when she was little and had thus grown into an absolutely stunning creature, Merlin’s awkwardness and long, flaily limbs had taken time in evening out. He grew into his body, was still growing into his shoulders even, and while he would probably never grow into his ears, his cheekbones and eyes more than made up for it. Not to mention his smile, Smile, Morgana always said when they were out walking through their village, smile and make all those bitches swoon. And he did.

He knew full well what it felt like to be wanted. To be desired.

He’d walk through their streets and feel eyes watching him. He’d catch those gazes, see the unwilling blushes that would follow. He’d smile. It’d be more than enough for a certain... connection.

Not that he’d ever visited uninvited, uncalled, un… unwanted. And not that he’d even do it that often either. It was just that sometimes he’d get lonely. And if he did go to bed some nights and whispered a spell under his breath and waited for a call, so what? It wasn’t like he was hurting anyone.

With all the hate and gossip that went on in their little village, it seemed that far too many people desired the untouchable. It was far too easy for Merlin to hone in to those desires, to make sure that it was him that the desire was directed to and then… To simply slip into said desire. He’d close his eyes, safe and sound in his bed, and open them back up again, already in someone else’s dream.

There’d be soft curves there, for his fingers to trace. There’d be a soft mouth for him to kiss. There’d be eyes, looking at him, and not hiding just how much they wanted him. Thighs would slide open, calling him between them, and when his fingers would trail over the shivering form beneath him, he’d find heat, and slickness, and invitation. One he was more than willing to accept.

Sometimes, however, instead of soft curves there’d be more edges, more sharpness, more aggression. Hands that’d touch him harder, grip him tighter, kisses that left stubble burn in their wake. Those nights, he’d be the one opening and inviting them in.

He’d wake sated, a small smile on his lips.

If Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice had any clue about Merlin’s nightly adventures, they kept it to themselves.

So yes, Merlin understood that craving that Morgana had, the one that was now taking her away from him. He understood. Didn’t mean he didn’t resent it just a little.

Still, a sigh left his lips and Merlin raised his eyes to the full moon, sending up a prayer to the Goddess to keep his Gana safe and sound on her adventures. May you find happiness and never forget the path leading home.

So no, it’s not like he was mad at her. No, he wasn’t mad at all. He did wish, however, that she maybe had had her adventures closer to home. Closer to him.

And it wasn’t like he was jealous either. After all, he had his nightly adventures of his own, visiting the dreams of the villagers that deemed themselves far too above him during daylight hours. It wasn’t like he was lacking anything. He was perfectly content. He was. There was nothing lacking in his life. Not a thing. Well, except for Gana, of course.

~x~

Merlin trailed after his uncle and aunt as they made their way home from the post office.

“Good morning, ladies, how are you this fine day, Miss Ruth?” Uncle Gaius nodded his head towards a woman whose eyes bulged at being called out before she scurried off.

Uncle Gaius snorted, “Oh goddess, what was I thinking.”

Aunt Alice whacked him lightly with her purse, tsking. “Would you stop already--- oh look, Morgana’s in Orlando!” she exclaimed, waving around a postcard excitedly.

Merlin snatched the postcard, devouring each little twirl on the tiny card, gobbling up each word like a starved man.

“Guess that Leon bloke is done with, then?” Uncle Gaius huffed, unimpressed as always.

“According to this he is,” Aunt Alice confirmed with a hum, nodding to a passing by villager, who sped up and crossed the street, wincing when he couldn’t escape fast enough.

“This is insane… She keeps going through all these…” Merlin coughed, remembering the personal letters he kept receiving, “People. She keeps going through all these people,” he finished awkwardly, blushing to the roots of his hair, when Aunt Alice turned to him with a knowing look in her eyes and winked at him over her shoulder.

“Well hopefully someday she finds someone who goes through her,” Uncle Gaius harrumphed.

“Hello~~ Hello, darling, how are you this lovely day?” Aunt Alice greeted another villager, nodding to her little girl with a smile on her face.

“Cover your eyes, don’t look at them!” the terrified mother whisper-screeched, shielding her child when the little girl didn’t follow her order fast enough.

Merlin very obviously rolled his eyes and gave the young mother an exaggerated wink, watching in amusement as the woman floundered and flushed beet-red herself.

“Oh, Al, just give it up!” Uncle Gaius scolded Aunt Alice gently, waving his folded newspaper in her general direction.

“Never!” Aunt Alice declared, cackling gleefully and merrily ignoring her brother’s huff of exasperation.

“Goddess, but I miss her so terribly much…” Merlin whispered, and Aunt Alice turned to him with a gentle pat to the shoulder.

“Oh sweetie…”

The rowan tree they were passing under seemed to chime softly above them, tiny leaves showering all three of them as if in a caress. Aunt Alice raised her head, watching the tree with a keen eye for a while before following after her boys.

She caught up to them just as Uncle Gaius was strolling straight across the street and right in front of a carriage to boot - paying, as usual, exactly zero attention to how one should be doing the crossing of the street. The woman driving the carriage pulled on the reins sharply, making her poor horse stumble back and whinny in confusion.

“Would you knock it off? That’s quite enough of that!” Uncle Gaius waved the woman off irritatedly, and had Merlin not been in such a maudlin mood, he would have snorted at the expression on his Uncle’s face.

“All I want is a normal life,” he mused aloud, smiling a little when Aunt Alice cooed at him in commiseration or consolation; one could never be too sure with her.

“My darling boy, when will you understand that being normal? Is not necessarily a virtue.” Uncle Gaius waved his newspaper about again, apparently using it as a fan to combat the unusually warm weather they were having. “It rather denotes a lack of courage!”

“Well,” Merlin took a deep breath, “it’s what I want nonetheless.”

Uncle Gaius just huffed his displeasure, but Aunt Alice wrapped an arm around his shoulders and raised a lace-gloved hand, pointing a finger across the street, without bothering to modulate the volume of her voice.

“You see that couple there?” she asked, pointing, and Merlin nodded (he knew them, had visited each of them in their dreams even). “He’s having an affair with the babysitter,” Aunt Alice continued, and Merlin’s lips twitched into a small smile (he had that suspicion, especially after one particular night which had been rather eye-opening when the ‘what can three people do together in bed’ sort of scenario had played out), “And she can eat a pound-cake in under a minute!” Aunt Alice finished gleefully, unaware of Merlin’s musings. Merlin snorted. Couldn’t help himself. He laughed and laughed and for a tiny, frozen moment, he missed his baby sister just a little less.

There was a young woman on the other side of the road. She was delivering flowers to a shop there. By the time the Ambrosiuses got across the road, she was done. There was wind, blowing through her long, dark locks and Merlin watched, intrigued, as she turned towards them and gave them all a smile and a nod in greeting. Merlin promptly walked straight into a pole, letting out a loud oomph.

Uncle Gaius just sighed, shook his head and herded Merlin homewards, but Aunt Alice paused and looked as the young woman - Freya, a quick little peek inside her mind told Alice - hid a giggle behind her palm as she watched Merlin flail before winking at the older woman and moving on her way.

~x~

“Lay me down, underneath where wild rose would bloom. Lay me down, lay me down to rest,” Merlin was humming under his breath as he plucked weeds from their herb garden. The sun was shining, there was not a cloud in the sky and Merlin thrived in the peace and tranquility of the day.

“Lay me down, so I can rest, my weary head. Underneath a wild rose, lay me down, lay me down.”

Morbid, yes, but it was his favorite song. Always had been.

"What time is it?" Aunt Alice whispered over the checkerboard, throwing a covert glance Merlin's way.

“Lay me down, so I can smell, a wild rose, that blooms above, so I can see, the petals showering me...” In the moment, Merlin was perfectly happy, elbows deep in the soil, plucking weed after weed; he felt like he could spend the whole day without moving from the garden.

“Any moment now,” Uncle Gaius hissed back, busying himself with the checkers, shuffling and reshuffling them on the board. They were both absolutely horrid at any and all board games. Didn’t mean they didn’t give it their best effort though. Every Thursday. Tea and a board game was what they did. Like clockwork.

Speaking of… The bell in the clock tower in the village square began tolling just then.

“Lay me down, benea---” Merlin’s humming stopped abruptly as he raised his head, looking towards the village.

Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice exchanged a glance, both barely biting down their grins.

Merlin stood, a streak of dirt high on his flushed cheekbone. His gloves fell to the ground one after the other as he stumbled out of the garden on unsteady feet.

“Where are you going, darling boy?” Uncle Gaius asked with a smirk wide on his face.

Merlin ignored the question.

“Most excellent,” Aunt Alice beamed, clapping excitedly.

Merlin reached their garden gate, unhooked the stopper, stepped outside and ran.

In the center of the village, Freya was making a bouquet of flowers while minding her stall.

As the bell tolled, her hands slowed, then stopped. She placed down the tulips, moved around her stall and looked down the road. The road that Merlin was now walking down, smile wide across his face. Her smile echoed his in turn. She moved before she could even think about it. Walked, rushed, ran towards him, jumping straight into his arms; her arms wrapping around his neck, legs winding around his waist, lips searching out his in a fervent kiss, certain beyond a doubt that he’d catch her. And catch her he did.

~x~

Chapter Text

~x~

Merlin was happy. Immeasurably and irrevocably, happy. Freya was everything he had ever wanted and more. She was bright and funny and lovely and kind and ---

Merlin was utterly and magnificently, head over all the heels in love. And he loved each and every second of it.

He could share his magic with her. She accepted him. She accepted his gifts. Hells, she reveled in them. She asked for stars when skies were cloudy. She asked for snowfalls when the heat of summer sweltered all around them. She asked for tiny little miracles that he would never even have called as such - for honey to be mixed in her tea by an overeager spoon (his magic loved pleasing her as much as he did); for a book to flip to the exact page she had read the night before; for flowers to bloom out of season or to continue blooming, just… for a while longer. Her bouquets always had that special extra sparkle and she would scold him for it, always with a smile on her face and a kiss to his lips. Oh yes, such displeasure, however would he cope…

So he loved her. Loved her so, so much.

Loved her especially when she laughed, happy as can be as he spun her round and round and round, her skirts flying and fwooshing around them in waves.

~x~

Merlin and Morgana never stopped writing letters to each other. Freya loved curling up on the couch with their babies while Merlin sorted through hundreds of letters, all kept safe and sound in a special ‘Auntie Gana’s’ chest.

Merlin would write to his sister in the evenings, Kara and Mordred put to sleep and Freya sketching quietly in their bed. He’d tell her about the fun the four of them had had playing in the garden. He’d tell her about how Mordred demanded to learn how to ride a tricycle a solid half-a-day after Kara first fell off hers.

He’d tell her about their Dancing Competitions around their living room and the laughing screeches that followed.

Dearest Gana,

Today is our third anniversary. And all I have to show for it are two beautiful little babies and a wife I just can’t stop kissing. I don’t even mind her wild hair constantly getting in my mouth. I wish you could see us. No more stones being thrown. No taunts cried out. Everything is just so… blissfully normal. Life… is Perfect.

Morgana would write back. Maybe not as frequently as he did, her letters a sporadic burst of colour and joy and adventure, but she would write. She’d send her love to him and to his kids, even to his wife and their aunt and uncle. She’d sent little treats for both Kara and Mordred, each of which both children kept safe and secure and loved to bits.

She’d also write letters that could not ever be read by eyes that were not Merlin’s…

Dearest Merls,

I… am lying in the sun. I’m hanging by the pool. I’ve got a million friends. You might say that life is Perfect. But I don’t care about any of it. In fact, I only got two words to say to you - Cenred King. Cenred. King. Cenred Cenred Cenred.

A flash went through Merlin as he read the last letter Morgana sent. He closed his eyes and felt her desire for this man, felt the delirious passion that was surrounding her. A sharp inhale - the smell of cigarettes smoke. A soft cloth covering her eyes. Excitement.

Merlin blinked. Shook his head and smirked. Have fun, ‘Gana~

~x~

Years went by in the blink of an eye. Merlin and Freya's babies weren't exactly babies anymore. Even if they did still act like it some time (most of the time, where Mordred was concerned). They were happy. Ridiculously so. The four of them. Kara and Mordred adored their Aunty Gana and constantly pestered Merlin about when she'd visit next. And she did. Whenever she could manage to get out of Cenred's bed for long enough to drive over. Everything was absolutely perfect in Merlin's life. So, naturally, that was when it all went to hell.

~x~

“Lay me down, underneath where wild rose would bloom. Lay me down, lay me down to rest,” Merlin hummed softly as he tucked his oldest in and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Lay me down, so I can rest, my weary head. Underneath a wild rose, lay me down, lay me down...”

Mordred wiggled an arm out from beneath the covers, making grabby fingers at his favored plushie - the same Merlin used to sleep with way back when. Merlin grinned and handed him the little dragon before tucking the blanket over them both and kissing his son’s soft curls.

“Lay me down, so I can smell, a wild rose, that blooms above, so I can see, the petals showering me…” He closed the door of their room quietly, turning to a smiling Freya, who was waiting for him with a cup of hot tea in her hands.

“I love it when you sing to them.”

Merlin hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Oh you do, do you…”

She echoed his hum. “I wouldn’t mind if you were to sing to me too, husband dear.”

Merlin chuckled, spun her around, taking care that not a drop of tea spilled, and took his wife to bed, humming to her softly all the way.

That night, Merlin woke to the sound of a beetle, ticking softly as it journeyed its way on the windowsill. Merlin turned on his other side and slammed a pillow over his ear.

The beetle kept ticking.

Freya left earlier than usual that morning. With a kiss and a soft ‘many deliveries today, husband dear, kiss our babies for me, yes? I love you’, she was gone for her day, and Merlin…

As soon as he was awake enough to realise that what had happened hadn’t been a nightmare, was on his knees, on their hardwood floor. Slap. His hand crashed loudly, just missing the beetle that snuck through the crack in the floorboards and fell beneath the floor.

“No, no no, do not do this to me,” Merlin crashed through the house, grabbing his toolbox from the attic and running back downstairs. He stubbed his foot on a stair on his way, yelped, almost fell. Shaking the pain off, he fell to the floor, a screwdriver in hand. Sticking it beneath a board, he tore it off and moved on to the next immediately. “Come on come on come on---” he chanted, looking looking looking for the accursed Omen of Death. Omen, that was ticking louder and louder with each passing moment.

Freya was humming Merlin’s Song under her breath as she walked and handed over a bouquet to the old lady Wilduk with a nod and a smile. She waved to the old widow cheerily as she pushed her cart down the street.

Merlin flipped a table over, pulling the rug away and going at the floor again, screwdriver slipping in his shaking hands. His vision was blurring, he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, he--- “I hear you I hear you--- No! Don’t---” He tore board after board after board from the floor. He couldn't stop, not for a second, not until he caught that damned beetle. His wedding ring shone from his trembling finger, even as his fingers bled - screwdriver lost somewhere amongst the rubble.

Freya pushed her cart down the street, the sun shining overhead, and she closed her eyes for a second - enjoying the warmth.

There was a cyclist tourney going on that day, an event, going through five villages. They turned the corner just as Freya stopped, just for a moment, to enjoy the light breeze.

“Freya, look out!” a stout villager screamed, and Freya’s eyes snapped open, just in time to see the sea of cyclists going straight for her.

Merlin’s head snapped up, and he threw his consciousness out, searching, looking for his wife in the chaos of the world.

Freya froze in place, her cart a solid shield behind her, and the cyclists passed her one by one and many by many and Freya grinned at them as they went.

Merlin sighed in relief - she was safe, she was fine, she ---

Freya turned after the last cyclist was gone and waved them off with a laugh.

Merlin breathed and --- there it was, the ticking.

Freya pushed her cart around, brimming with excitement of telling her family of her adventure and… the truck came out of nowhere, and it came so fast, too fast---

Flowers rained all over the pavement. Slowly, softly, quietly.

The beetle crawled out from under the floor and just stopped there. Right in front of Merlin. It wasn’t ticking anymore. And then, a moment later, Merlin felt a part of his heart shatter in his chest. He screamed, and a wave of magic tore out of him, sharing in his grief. Somewhere, half a world away, Morgana sat up, untangling herself from a sleepy Cenred’s embrace, her hand over her heart.

~x~

Merlin crashed through the door, dark circles under his eyes and hair sticking up every which way.

He tore through the dark house before stopping at the bottom of the stairs and lifting his head up, his voice carrying. “It was the curse, wasn’t it?! She died because I loved her so... much.” His hand, clutching at his chest was shaking, his whole frame was shaking, he couldn’t stop the damn...shaking.

“Oh my poor little boy…”

Merlin twirled around at the morose tone of his Uncle Gaius. He stumbled into the kitchen, watching as Aunt Alice came in as well, his gaze snapping back to Uncle Gaius when the older man spoke, his voice unsteady and raw. “We had no idea… no idea when we cast the spell.”

Merlin felt blood freezing in his veins. “What spell, what are you talking about?”

He glanced between his aunt and his uncle, noted their forlorn expressions and let out a shuddering breath. “Oh… oh no, you didn’t. You didn’t, please, tell me that my own flesh and blood---” his voice broke.

“It was just a little push… you wanted so much to be happy,” Aunt Alice started softly, gently as if that would help.

“We never expected that you would truly love her,” Uncle Gaius finished, something like remorse in his eyes.

“Well I did,” Merlin gasped out, hand against his mouth before determination sparked in his gaze. “And I want her back.” He rushed out of the kitchen and into their conservatory, grabbed the family Grimoire, caring not one whit about all the things that clattered to the ground in his haste, and rushed right back. “You brought her into my life, now I want you to bring her back. Bring her back.” He slammed the Grimoire onto the kitchen table and began flipping the pages as fast as his trembling fingers would allow. “I’ve never asked you for anything, I’ve never asked you for spells, but do this! I know you can, I know you can bring her back!”

“No dear, we won’t do that,” Aunt Alice came closer slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal.

“We don’t do that,” Uncle Gaius stressed firmly, also stepping closer.

“But you can, you, you can do this. I know you can, I remember, I’ve found it here when mommy and daddy died---” Merlin finally stopped flipping through the pages. The drawing there was detailed. And as detailed, it was also dark. A bent over figure was depicted walking through something that looked suspiciously like hellfire. That or graves set aflame.

“Even if we did bring her back,” Uncle Gaius began, still sounding far more careful than he usually did, “It wouldn’t be Freya, it would be something else. Something dark and unnatural.”

“I don’t care what she comes back as, as long as she comes--- back.” Merlin’s voice broke again, tears flowing down his cheeks as he sobbed. “Please, please do this for me. Please. Please. Please?” His legs failed him then and he collapsed to his knees before his Aunt and Uncle, who stood at his sides like sentinels, mourning with him, sharing his pain. Solid, fierce. Unmovable.

~x~

Kara held Mordred by the hand as they marched, tiny and fearless, down the path leading to the house their daddy had grown up in.

This is only temporary, so don’t get too comfortable, Merlin had said as he packed their bags. There’ll be no chocolate for breakfast, homework will be done after dinner, teeth and hair brushed before bed.

Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice were waiting for them on the porch.

“...and as for you two,” Merlin said, stopping before them, his face absolutely void of any emotion. “My children will never do magic. Ever.”

~x~

Merlin blinked. It was dark behind the covers. Very dark. He tried to sigh, but it took too much out of him. The effort. He blinked again. It was lighter now. There, outside, outside the covers. Merlin frowned. Blinked again. There. It was dark. Dark outside. Dark in. Darkness surrounded him. Wrapped itself around him. Kept him…safe. Merlin closed his eyes.

Merlin opened his eyes to a meekly lit room. It appeared that the sun didn’t have any decency whatsoever and was continuing to rise despite his pain and grief and--- the door creaked open. Hesitant steps came closer to the bed where he was buried underneath the covers.

“Daddy? It’s time for us to go to school…” Kara’s soft voice drifted through the fog of pain that was surrounding Merlin. “Daddy?” There was a plop, indicating Kara had dropped her bag as she sneaked closer to the bed. “The same time as yesterday… and the day before that. And the day before that!” Kara went to her knees at the side of the bed and stuck her head under the covers. “Up and at them, rise and shine, let’s have you, lazy daisy!”

When that failed to elicit any kind of reaction from her father, she climbed on top of the bed and curled up besides the lump that was Merlin. “Daddy, I’m worried about Mordred. Did you know, he puts on his mouse ears and rides around the town all dolled up and…” she paused for effect, “Naked!”

Merlin couldn’t help the light chuckle his oldest retelling of the antics his baby boy performed had induced.

Kara waited patiently, or as patiently as someone her age was capable of for a moment or two before sighing and turning to leave. “Alright… I’ll see you around.”

She managed a whole entire half a step before a hand shot out from beneath the covers and pulled her to the bed and under the sheets. She went with a yelp and a high-pitched giggle.

Merlin pulled his little girl into his arms and snuggled into her long raven hair. Hair that smelled just like her mother’s. For the first time since losing his wife, Merlin smiled.

“I’m sorry, baby…” he whispered, nosing her head. “Daddy’s just so… so tired.”

“It’s okay, daddy,” Kara whispered back, her own smile wobbling when Merlin rained tiny little kisses all over her hair.

~x~

It was night time again when Merlin tossed the covers off him. He blinked at the soft lamp-light that painted the room in gold. He raised his left hand to his eyes, despite it feeling heavy as led. He traced the scar on his palm with his right pointer finger.

“Gana…”

Morgana traced the scar on her right palm with a slow motion. “Merls…” She got up from the bed, her movements sluggish, and she stretched.

“I was just thinking about you,” came a drawl from the bed. Cenred laid sprawled on his side, a bottle in hand.

A little crack went through the room as Morgana lit up a cigarette. “You’re always thinking about me.”

Cenred took a long pull from the neck of the bottle, his eyes glued to Morgana’s figure as she moved across the room. He watched her, followed her approach, allowed her to take his lips in a kiss as she took the bottle from his loosened fingers. Morgana pulled away, standing, but Cenred followed, his lips to her neck, his arms around her waist, squeezing, fondling, inching lower.

“Honey, I just have to go to the bathroom.” She pulled away, smiling at him, but it was growing thin.

He followed again, wrapping his arms around her. “Let’s go together.”

Morgana stiffened. “Cen, c’mon…”

He snorted, letting her go with a shrug. “I’m just kidding, eh?” He smacked her ass lightly. “Go. Don’t make me wait.”

Morgana sent a grin over her shoulder and closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, rummaging through her purse until she found a tiny glass vial, filled with tiny red grains. She poured a few grains into her palm before dumping them into the bottle she had carried in with her. Corking the bottle with her thumb, she sloshed the amber liquid around till the grains melted. As they did, she glanced over at the mirror. Gazing at her reflexion, Morgana made a decision.

~x~

Radio played softly as she drove into the sunset, through the night and into the sunrise, straight through the day and into the following night again. Morgana sang as she drove and she didn’t stop.

~x~

Merlin woke to a touch as light as a feather, running up and down the bridge of his nose slowly.

“Hey…” Morgana greeted him softly.

“Hey…” he greeted back, softer still.

Morgana was smiling from where she lay besides her brother. Slowly, her smile dimmed.

“I was really really happy” was all Merlin managed before tears started pouring out of him and he collapsed into Morgana’s arms. Morgana held him, silent, accepting his grief and giving out comfort as best she knew how.

~x~

“We were going to open up a botanical shop.”

Morgana was holding up a photo of Merlin and Freya, looking up at the camera, smiles on their faces as she listened to him talk.

“Freya would get all the ingredients and I would make the stuff.” Merlin lay on Morgana’s lap as she stroked his hair. “She really loved my mint-oatmeal face cream. Said it was a true test to not gobble it up instead of putting it on her face.” He sat up with a self-deprecating little huff. “I’m sure all this is really boring to you but she… she really made me laugh.”

“Cenred what kind of name is that?”

They had gotten the fire started, and Morgana had curled up before the flames like a cat.

“Bulgarian,” she answered with a snicker.

“Bulgarian?!” Merlin, who was lying on his belly on the bed, gaped at her.

“Mhm. Yeah, he’s from somewhere near Transylvania. He has this whole Dracula-cowboy thing about him.” Morgana huffed a laugh, laying down on her side on the rug, a large smile blooming on her face. “He’s just so intense. I mean… He talks about our relationship in terms of… Centuries.” She waved her cigarette in the air, words spinning her tale in a weave that Merlin could see before his eyes. “Sometimes? Sometimes we stay up all night just…” She ran her hand down her side, her touch lighting her skin up, “Worshiping each other. Like bats. Thank gods for Auntie Alice’s belladonna,” she sniggered and tapped the ash of her cigarette into a cup. “Or I’d never get any sleep.”

“Why are you taking that stuff?” Merlin asked, his voice still soft, still scratchy from crying. Yet there was a sparkle in there that gave Morgana hope to see her brother healed one day.

“I’m not using it! I’m just… giving it to him now and then, that’s all.” She waved him off, taking a deep pull of her cigarette.

“So you’re… you’re drugging your boyfriend to get a little shut-eye?” Merlin clarified, his tone disbelieving. Morgana gave him a Look. “Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?” Merlin pushed, refusing to just let the madness stand.

“Maybe.” Morgana shrugged, and it was vulnerable, the gesture. It gave Merlin pause. “But he’s strong.” His sister continued and so he refocused. “So much stronger than me. He can survive the curse,” she finished barely above the whisper, and she didn’t hold Merlin’s eye.

“Yeah,” he agreed anyways, and watched a sliver of tension leave her shoulders.

~x~

They were huddled under the covers of Merlin’s bed. They lay there, facing each other, just like they used to, back when they were little and would sneak into one another’s beds to gossip and giggle and plan their futures.

“Do you forgive our mother?” Morgana asked with a small smile - it seemed like she couldn’t stop smiling when looking at Merlin.

Merlin hummed. “Sometimes.”

Morgana nodded at that seriously, and then spoke, her voice grave. “Well you’ll never forgive yourself, unless you get up and you get dressed and you brush your godsdamned teeth because your breath stinks.”

That forced a disbelieving laugh out of Merlin and he smacked her hand in mock offense, making Morgana laugh too.

“And you take care of those two adorable little babies.”

“Yeah… You’re right.” Merlin’s voice was subdued, quiet, but there was a sparkle of resolve in his eyes. And when he whacked an unsuspecting Morgana with a pillow, the shrieks of joy that followed were genuine.

That night after Merlin had curled up on his side on the pillow, Morgana lay beside him. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed, not willing to wake him.

“I love you too, Gana.” Merlin didn’t open his eyes, but the warmth of his baby sister’s smile kept him cocooned in safety and love all throughout the night. That was the first night that he did not dream of Freya.

He woke to an empty bed, the pillow Morgana had laid on still keeping the imprint of her upon it. He pressed his face into it, breathed in her familiar, comforting scent and got up.

~x~

Chapter Text

~x~

It took a while, but the plans had been made, the bones carefully carved out in between raising the kids and writing out secrets against each other's skin at night. Money had been squirreled away too; even the little ones had helped, pressing coins --- painted with sticky fingers --- from their allowances into his and Freya's hands for Mommy and Daddy’s Dream. So after finally having everything finalized, Merlin walked down the main street towards a little shop that had an ‘Opening soon’ sign hung on the door. The inside was stacked full of boxes, filled with bottles and jars of all shapes and sizes. Merlin had filled each one by hand, had glued on the hand-written labels, had packed them up before sending them here, to be unpacked and stacked and sorted.

~

He even had two employees already. A lovely young woman named Gwen who Merlin had met outside of his shop when it rained. She had stumbled into him and had a damn near panic attack at almost bowling him over and then promptly unleashed a veritable tirade of apologies on him… Merlin had hired her on the spot after learning she was supposed to go for an interview in the library but had gotten lost and oh dear I'm allergic to that book dust can you believe and oh what am I even doing I---. And a rogue drifter by the name of Gwaine, whom Merlin had adopted after one particularly bad night spent in a local watering hole. They had bonded over a shared drink and after, when Gwaine had turned up knocking on his door in the morning, well… Merlin couldn’t turn him away - he knew the haunted look in the man’s eyes far too well.

~

It also helped that neither Gwen nor Gwaine were locals. What had helped even more was the fact that neither of them had wanted Merlin. Gwen, with her sunny disposition and her general loveliness, fell in love with Merlin’s children immediately. She fell in love with him too, she had said. In love with his eyes and his smile and the warmth of his hugs. But that was all. She saw his heart and she knew it was not meant for her. Just as hers wasn’t meant for him.

~

As for Gwaine, well… Gwaine flirted with everything even remotely human. But that was also as far as it went, as far as Merlin could see. For as much as Gwaine shared his smiles and tossed compliments right left and center, his eyes, his heart, stayed forever closed.

~x~

It was nice and bright in the shop, Merlin had made sure of that - white walls, off-white shelves and window frames. He liked it. It brought a smile to his face. Was a bitch to keep it clean, but that was what he had Gwen for. Not that he’d ever say so to her face, but he did absolutely love her borderline OCD-like cleanliness.

There was chatter outside and Merlin turned, feeling a grin pull at his lips - his babies were there. Obviously done with school, both Kara and Mordred (who was in his patented mouse ears again) were making faces at him through the window, making Merlin snort and Gwen and Gwaine chuckle alongside him.

He kept half an eye on the window, enjoying their antics while he stocked a shelf with bottle after bottle filled with one mixture or another. They were, after all, on a bit of a schedule.

Merlin was beyond glad to see his babies so happy again. He was kinda kicking himself for that having taken so long too - it seemed that with his finally having gotten up from the bed and out of the house, his children’s mood had similarly improved exponentially.

And that was when, of course, a gaggle of children crossed the street and stopped behind his babies. They were all crowding together in a cluster as was only natural for bullies.

“How’s your witchy daddy doing?” a mean-sounding boy’s voice rang out, making both Kara and Mordred turn to face them before a chorus of voices picked up an all too familiar chant.

“Witch witch, you’re a bitch! Witch witch, you’re a bitch!”

Merlin sighed, and put down one last jar before moving towards the street. “You’d think that after three hundred years they’d come up with a better rhyme.”

By the time he was outside, the children were on one another and it took a second for Merlin to pull Kara off the boy that had started the chanting. Mordred was standing behind him already, sniffling softly.

“Really, your troublemaker started this!” Dolly Portsten exclaimed, shaking an angry finger at Kara and Merlin. Merlin just barely managed to not roll his eyes too obviously.

Kara was reaching around Merlin, her voice going screechy with anger and tears. “I hate you!”

“Put your finger down, Kara,” Merlin admonished, eyes still on the mob before them.

Kara, however, was Done, just, Done. Her voice reached new heights as she pointed around Merlin again and screamed, at the top of her tiny lungs, “I hope you get chicken pox!”

Bobby Porsten’s eyes went oh-so-wide at that and the whole entirety of children and their mothers gasped. His own mother, of course, gasped loudest of all.

“Into the shop, both of you.” He did not raise his voice, but when Kara opened her mouth to protest, he gave her a Look. Kara took Mordred by the hand and went inside without so much as a glance back. Merlin turned towards the gaggle of children and their terrified mothers. Dolly Portsten was still clutching her toad of a son to her side. Merlin stepped up to them, the others parting before him like the sea. He stopped before the boy, looked him right in the eye and gave him a flick on the nose. It was not gentle. The boy yelped.

“There. All good now. Though it does make me wonder what kind of bigotry these children hear at home, for them to come out and be spouting such vile. What do you think, Dolly, hm?”

Dolly, naturally, didn’t say anything back, just huffed and pulled her son away, the rest of the sheep quickly following after them. ‘Witches, they're all witches!’ followed Merlin all the way into his shop, where both Kara and Mordred were standing, clutching at each other, tears streaming down their cheeks.

“What is the matter with you?” Merlin asked, feeling his teeth grind and made an effort to calm down before continuing. “We do not cast. We do not toy with peoples’ lives, do you understand me? This is not a game.”

“No, it’s you who doesn’t cast anymore!” Kara sobbed out. “Not since Mommy!”

“... you probably couldn’t even if you tried,” Mordred added quietly before grabbing Kara’s hand and leading her out.

Merlin followed them out on autopilot, needing to reassure to hug to keep from harm and… Froze when he heard them talking.

“He has all this power and he doesn’t even use it.” He heard Kara grumble.

“I think we really hurt Daddy’s feelings…” Mordred said, and Merlin watched, his heart breaking as his daughter’s shoulders slumped.

~x~

Merlin took the long road home that night. He needed… time. It was hard. He had gotten used to acceptance. To friendly greetings and waves and smiles. But Freya was gone now. And all the villagers’ good will had gone with her. Merlin sighed. He needed to pull himself together, was what he needed. He had two kids to care for. He had a shop about to open. He needed to focus and start living, start breathing again. Enough was enough.

“Cally thinks that anyone who marries us is gonna croak.”

Merlin blinked. That was… quite the conversation he was apparently walking into.

“Oh that’s such hogwash!”

Merlin felt his lips twitch up at the incredulity in Aunt Alice’s voice.

“What about your grandparents? Balinor and Hunith?”

That was Uncle Gaius now, inquiring in his no-nonsense kind of way.

Merlin sneaked through the dark corridor until he spotted the light coming from the kitchen.

Kara and Mordred were huddled about the table, leaning into Uncle Gaius as he patted their hair. Merlin tsked - there was a spoon in Mordred’s little paw. What’s even more damning - his entire chubby face was covered in chocolate, chin to his (thankfully fake) mouse ears. Oh Merlin was going to have words with ---

“Grandma Hunith died of a broken heart, didn’t she?” Kara sounded subdued, and Merlin bit his lip, hurting for his baby girl.

Uncle Gaius nodded and hummed, and Kara sniffled.

“How could she do that? How could she leave daddy and Auntie Gana behind when they were just little children?”

It was Aunt Alice’s turn to hum now. Uncle Gaius looked like he was about to say something, but, well, he apparently had forgotten what Merlin and Morgana had been like when they were children. He was far too slow in his response.

“How come he never talks about it?”

“Was daddy good at spells when he was just a little boy?”

“How come daddy doesn’t do spells now?”

Merlin swallowed a chuckle that came from the look on his Uncle’s face. “What’s going on here?” He didn’t really let himself think about whether it was… a conscious attempt to save his Aunt and Uncle from the barrage of questions his children could unleash, or an attempt to save him from the answers those two old bats could produce.

“Nothing. Just making toast is all.” Aunt Alice smiled, and on her last word, the toast popped right out of the toaster.

“Mhm.” Merlin was not convinced. He stepped further into the kitchen, his hands on his hips. “Did you guys finish your homework?” Kara and Mordred nodded, eyes wide, and shoved their spoons into their mouths in a vain attempt to stuff their faces with as much chocolate cake as they could before---

“There’s a storm coming, why don’t you two go and check all the windows for me, okay?”

They nodded, dropping wet, chocolate-y kisses on the wrinkled cheeks of both Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice before rushing off.

Merlin watched them stomp up the stairs, then turned and fixed his Aunt and Uncle with the most dry look in his arsenal. “Making toast?”

Uncle Gaius nodded, eyes wide and innocent. Merlin’s smile dropped.

“I want you to watch what you say to my kids. I don’t want you filling up their heads with any of your nonsense.”

“We’d never tell them nonsense, dear,” Aunt Alice whispered softly, shaking her head mournfully.

Merlin did not change his look as he turned and started climbing the stairs himself.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight.”

He waved their goodnights off and didn’t rush his steps. He gave his babies enough time to clamber into their beds before stopping by to tuck them in and kiss them goodnight.

Kara muttered an apology into his neck, and clung just a little longer than usual.

Mordred kissed him on the nose and patted his head softly. Merlin left their room with his heart feeling twice lighter than when he came in.

~x~

Merlin wrapped himself in his fluffy robe, put on his glasses, and brewed himself a cup of tea. He stared at the empty piece of paper before him as he slowly stirred the tea. With a deep sigh, he let go of the teaspoon and took a pen. The tea kept on stirring.

Dearest Gana,

Sometimes, I feel like there’s a hole inside of me. An emptiness that, at times, seems to burn. I think that if you lifted my heart to your ear you could probably hear the ocean. And the Moon tonight… there’s a circle around it - a sign of trouble not far behind.

I have this dream of being whole and not going to sleep each night wanting, but still, sometimes when the wind is warm or the crickets sing I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.

I just want someone to love me.

I want to be seen.

I don’t know. Maybe I’ve had my happiness.

I don’t want to believe it, but there is no one, Gana, only that Moon.

Merlin sighed again, and blew on the wick of a candle until it burst to flame with a soft crackle. He dripped the wax onto the envelope, sealed it with his ring and carried it out to the mailbox outside. His eyes drifted back to the sky again then, giving the Moon one last look before he stepped through the garden gate and made his way up to the house.

It happened between one heartbeat and the next. The phone rang. Merlin’s steps stuttered.

“Morgana.”

Merlin ran.

~

Merlin slammed through the door just as Aunt Alice was puttering down the stairs. “It’s Morgana…” she huffed, reaching for the phone.

“I know.” Merlin reached it first. “What’s wrong?” he breathed into the landline as soon as he had it in hand.

“I’m scared… Can you come and get me?” Morgana whispered into the phone, her voice shaking, and Merlin saw red.

“Where are you?”

~

He rushed down the stairs, pulling a jacket on as he went.

Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice were waiting for him by the doors.

“I'm taking the first flight out. I need you to watch the kids for me.” He ransacked the gigantic bowl of bits and bobs, finally finding his keys with a little exclaimed ‘aha!’

“Yes, of course, dear. Just go to Morgana, the children’ll be fine,” Aunt Alice assured him, turning to Uncle Gaius with a cheery little smile. “We’ll take them to the solstice celebrations.”

Merlin froze. “No. No no no no no, what, why can’t you two just stay here?” he mumbled between hugging them both and planting kisses on all four wrinkled cheeks.

“No, we can’t back out at the last minute, dear, we’re on the committee. We’re presenting.” Uncle Gaius informed him while Aunt Alice nodded with tiny ‘yes, yes’.

Merlin groaned. “Ugh, fine, but I do not want them dancing naked under the full moon.”

“No, of course not, dear. The nudity is entirely optional as you well remember!” Aunt Alice waved him off cheerily while Merlin did his best not to knock himself out on the door out of sheer frustration.

~x~

Merlin wasn’t quite sure about what happened between his slamming the door of the house and his stepping out of the plane. He might have heard a couple of confused chatters about ‘my lord but the flight took barely a moment this time, didn’t it?’ but in all honesty, he couldn’t quite make himself care about anything except for getting to his sister. Between one blink and the next, he was waving down a taxi.

The tires of the car screeched as they pulled to a stop. The driver was all too glad to move on once Merlin had paid him - there had been a few crazy moments while driving this particular client after all, that just… Well, the cab wasn’t meant to go quite that fast, he was sure. Not to mention all those green lights just popping one after the other? Freaky, is what that was. Not that Merlin noticed the driver peeling away as soon as he slammed the door though. No, as soon as he had his feet under him, he rushed to the little window that denoted the ‘office’ of this particular… Motel. If it could be called that.

“Hello? Hello!” Merlin banged on the window, ringing the bell with his other hand.

It seemed like an age had passed before a ‘just a minute!’ was called out to him and then… Then he had a key and was running again. Corridor, staircase, another corridor. A woman, screaming in one room he rushed past. Something crashing in another. Merlin sped up.

~

He opened the door quietly, half-afraid to but unable to not. He stepped inside the dark room, eyes rushing all over, getting drawn to, naturally, the only light in the room - the light in the bathroom.

“Merls?”

Merlin’s eyes snapped to the bed, to the figure, curled up on the floor beside it.

“Hey.” Morgana tried for a smile, but her lips were wobbling and her mascara was running all over her face and Merlin? Merlin saw red again.

His backpack dropped to his feet as he hurried to her, doing his best to force a smile on his face. “Hey yourself.”

Merlin crouched down before her, feeling his heart break - beneath the runny mascara, beneath the tear tracks, beneath the brave face Morgana would always put on, there was a bruise. A big, bright bruise covering almost half of her delicate face. Merlin’s jaw clenched.

“The room service here sucks,” Morgana said with a wobbly grin, and Merlin swallowed against the acid and rage that threatened to start pouring out of him.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said instead, gathered her up in his arms for a too-brief hug --- the only kind she’d allow in her state --- and got them to their feet.

They scrambled around the room, gathering trinkets and pieces of clothing and stuffing everything into Morgana’s bag haphazardly.

She grabbed her shoes on the way out, tossing them on as an afterthought before following Merlin outside.

“It’s been crazy, Merls. We’ve been driving for two weeks. Two. Weeks. Straight. I mean, not even straight, in these, like, zigzags.” Morgana was gesticulating wildly as she spoke, her voice hoarse and shaky and breaking every other word. “Back and forth and - ah!” She stumbled and lost her shoe and Merlin immediately went to a knee to put it back on her.

“And today, today he says he wants a jelly doughnut, right?” Morgana let out a little hysterical giggle, and Merlin started counting backwards from ten because he knew, he knew what was coming. “And he says to the kid, a jelly doughnut, with cream, right? And the kid, the kid looks confused,” they heaved their bags back onto their shoulders and began walking again. “And then I said, Cen, darling, jelly’s not a cream and then the kid laughed and I laughed and then… and then he punched me. He punched me real hard, the bastard.”

Merlin hummed and opened up the door to the cab then. The cabby looked right confused, but Merlin was so beyond caring at that point he just shoved his bag inside, turning to Morgana.

Morgana, who was standing there, frozen, mouth gaping open as she looked up. The Moon shone big and bright and red above them.

“Oh,” she gasped, “Blood on the moon.”

Merlin sighed. “I know.”

“Blood on the moon,” she repeated, completely oblivious to him or his herding her into the car.

“I know, Gana, I know. Get in the car.”

“Blood on the moon, blood on the…” She reached for her neck and her panic grew. “Where’s my dragon’s eye?”

Merlin blinked. Shook Morgana’s bag at her in question. “Is it in here?”

“No, no no, where is it I need it I can’t leave without it, I have to go get it!”

Before Merlin could so much as blink, she was gone.

“Goddess bedamnend, Gana!” Merlin cursed under his breath, grabbed their stuff and rushed after her.

~

“Where where where --- oh!” Morgana stumbled to a stationary car, tore the door open and reached in. “Oh thank the goddess, there you are!” She babbled, reaching for the necklace wrapped around the mirror. She clutched the necklace in relief, completely oblivious to anything around her. Which was why when an arm suddenly reached for her from the backseat, Morgana only managed a strangled yelp before she was pulled over the front seat and into the back.

~

“Gana, Gana, honey just forget the damn---” Merlin walked over to the car, digging through her bag, only to freeze mid-word when he raised his eyes and saw.

Morgana was shock-still, pressed into Cenred’s side, who had her in a headlock with one arm while pressing a gun into her clavicle with the other.

“You’ll drive,” he snapped in a far too controlled for Merlin’s liking tone. Merlin swallowed. And slid behind the wheel.

~

~Maybe I didn't treat you

Quite as good as I should~

Merlin was quite certain he’d never again be able to listen to that particular song in the same way ever again.

Cenred took a satisfying swallow from his tequila bottle before offering the bottle to Merlin. “You want some? NoPe?” he popped the p when Merlin didn’t so much as twitch in answer.

~Maybe I didn't love you

Quite as often as I could~

Morgana sat beside him quietly, not even blinking, it seemed. Cenred lit a cigarette and Merlin’s eyes did snap to the mirror to watch him at the snap of the lighter.

“Hey, hey Merlin? You ever read any books… by Louis L'Amour?” he asked, moving over and leaning across the seat so he’d hang right behind Merlin’s shoulder. “Louis L'Amour was a foreigner and he loved aaaaall things cowboy. Just like me. He’d write stories about rustlers. Rustlers would steal the cattle and then sell them. But before they could resell them---”

Merlin tuned him out - his eyes were drawn to the mirror again, where Morgana’s image was moving, leaning in to whisper The belladona. It’s in my bag. And she nodded to him, sure but desperate. Merlin nodded back, bit down a smirk and stuck his hand into Morgana’s bag that had landed by his side as he slid into the driver’s seat. His fingers wrapped around the little glass vial almost immediately.

Meanwhile, Cenred was going on with his story, completely oblivious to what was going on around him. “But before they could sell them they would try to take away the brand of the owner with an acid,” he grabbed his lighter again and lit it, holding his big ass ring under the flame, “or by scrubbing.” He rubbed the ring on the seat harshly for a moment, trying to catch Merlin’s eye. He failed. So, naturally, he stuck the ring under the flame again, making sure it heated nice and even. “Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught and get hanged.”

~You were always on my mind

You were always on my mind~

That got Merlin’s attention. Not the story, the story was bullshit, but the heating of the ring. That rose flags. Red, red flags. “What are you doing?” he asked, turning to glance over his shoulder.

Cenred ignored him, however, sitting back and then pulling Morgana’s long leg over his lap. “Cmere, pretty,” he muttered before continuing with his story.

“Shit shit shit shit” Morgana muttered under her breath, struggling in his grasp, trying to pull away only to fail and whimper in terror.

“You can’t hide the brand, it’s just you and me~~” Cenred mumbled, and in a span of a second Merlin realized what it was he was about to do.

“HEY HEY HEY!” he turned back, furious, and whacked Cenred as hard as he could.

The car swerved, tires scheering, and Cenred went very pale, very fast.

“Watch the road, watch the road!” he wailed, his cigarette barely clinging to his bloodless lips.

“Shut up!” Merlin roared, voice cracking, “Rustlers and branding! Louis L'Amour! Who is not a foreigner!” He turned back again to whack Cenred again, “He's from North Dakota, you asshole!”

“Watch the road, watch the road!” Cenred continued to chant, eyes wide and panicked, which was why Merlin continued, figuring that just one… more… push… “You're freaking me out, Dracula freak! Give me the bottle before I plow you into a truck!” He waved a hand into the backseat manically, reaching until he felt a bottle being pressing into it.

“Okay okay, just calm down, calm down…” Cenred soothed, leaning back and watching greedily as Merlin wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle and took a drink.

He waited until Merlin swallowed, “Whoo! You know…” he pulled Morgana into his side, ignoring her whimper, his eyes glued to the back of Merlin’s head as he licked his lips.

Merlin ignored him, the bottle squeezed between his thighs as he upended the tiny glass vial of Morgana’s belladonna inside.

“I’m feeling very into siblings right now,” Cenred finished in a purr.

As soon as he said it, Merlin saw it. The fantasy so strong it slammed into him against his best wishes. Merlin saw himself being pushed down onto Morgana’s naked stomach while Cenred reached over him to fondle her breast, his other hand clutching at Merlin’s hip as he rammed inside him from behind. Merlin shuddered. Going by Morgana’s whimper from the backseat, she saw it too, and Merlin bit his lip in sympathy. He couldn’t help it - their connection was always strongest when they were together. And he had no warning, no chance to brace himself, to ward his mind from Cenred’s foul thoughts and desires. Desires that were clearly potent enough to force themselves into both their minds.

Instead of reacting, however, he simply smiled. Smiled and waited for the tiny whirlpool inside the tequila bottle to dissolve the belladonna drops.

~

They had to stop soon - tequila was quick to come in and just as quick to come right back out, after all.

“You were always on my miiiiiiiiiind, you were always on my miiiiiiind!” Cenred bellowed tonelessly as he pissed on the side of the road, spinning the car keys round and round on his finger.

“He should’ve passed out by now.” Morgana was biting on her thumb as she kept a wary eye on Cenred through the window. “You didn’t give him enough.” She gesticulated with a wild look in her gaze.

“I gave him plenty,” Merlin huffed out, glancing out the window too.

“You were always…” Cenred grunted out quietly while stumbling back to the car.

“What’s he gonna do now…” Morgana whispered, and Merlin hated it, hated how fucking scared she sounded.

“Just stay calm, Gana,” he whispered back, giving her as reassuring a glance as he could.

They watched Cenred reach the car and slide into the backseat, still garbling the song under his breath.

“Cenred, please, baby,” Morgana was crying again, silent tears rolling down her bruised cheeks. “Come on.” She reached for his face, running her fingertips over his stubble. “Come on, baby, I love you.”

Cenred’s lip wobbled. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

Morgana cried harder. “I want to be with you forever, you know that, I love you.”

“I just… don’t… believe you.” Cenred snarled, his hands snapping to Morgana’s neck, wrapping around it and---

“Hey, hey, no, no no!” Merlin yelled, vaulting over the seat and grabbing at Cenred’s shoulders, and trying to drag him off of Morgana. But he was strong, so strong, and Morgana was wheezing, was choking, was dying, and Merlin panicked, yelled, pulled harder, started hitting him when pulling didn’t help.

And then, suddenly, Cenred let Morgana go and just… flopped down on top of her, not that Merlin noticed, still hitting him still pulling at him, still…

“Merls, Merls, Merls! He’s out. He’s out,” Morgana rasped, waving a hand in front of Merlin’s face.

Merlin heaved a relieved breath. Then heaved Cenred up, trying to get him off of Morgana.

Morgana, who took one look at Cenred’s very much open eyes and screamed.

~x~

Chapter Text

~x~

Merlin was perched in the front seat, watching as Morgana frantically blew air into Cenred’s mouth.

“How much — did you — give him, Merls?” Morgana managed in between heaving breaths.

Merlin huffed, crossing his arms and nibbling on his lip nervously. “I don’t know, Gana, wasn’t using a bloody measuring cup, was I? He was freaking trying to kill you!”

Morgana hid her face in her hands and whined.

It was a dark, cloudy night, Merlin noted absently as they climbed out of the car. It was one saving grace at least, the only light coming from the huge, full, red moon above them.

“Please, oh Goddess, please, if you get us out of this, I'll be good, I'll be normal,” Morgana was muttering, her hands clasped and her eyes fixed to the skies. “I'll have babies. I—”

Merlin’s eyebrow twitched. “I have babies, Gana,” he snapped. “I had normal. I worked really, really damn hard to get that normal!” He was hyperventilating, his vision blurring, Morgana’s tear-streaked face getting harder to see.

“It’s all my fault, Goddess, Merls, I didn’t mean to ruin your life.” There was mascara running down her cheeks, highlighting the bruise, Merlin realised, blinking the darkness away as Morgana placed her trembling, small, goddess, so small hands on his cheeks. “I just had no one else to turn to,” she whispered and she sounded fucking devastated. Merlin swallowed. He had to get a grip. This was his sister. His baby sister.

“Get in the car,” he finally said, proud of how little his voice was shaking before turning on a heel and heading for the driver’s side. “Get in the bloody car, Gana.”

Morgana blinked, her hand with yet another cigarette in it twitching before she rushed over to the other side and clambered in.

Merlin pushed down on the gas immediately, ignoring her soft exclamation and the barely closed door. Cenred sat slumped in the backseat, saying nothing as was expected.

“We… we have to go to the police. It was self-defense.” Merlin was leaning on his closed fist as he turned the steering wheel with one hand.

Morgana scoffed, lighting another cigarette. “Sure, the good old slowly-poison-him-to-death self-defense?” She took a deep drag. “Come on, Merls, they're never going to believe us.”

Merlin side-eyed her for a few puffs. “You really should stop smoking so much, Gana.”

“Why? I'll probably get life.” She glanced at the backseat. “I should smoke two at once. It'll shorten the sentence.”

Merlin rubbed his temple. “I really don't want to lose my children.” The words tore out of him, completely against all his wishes.

Morgana’s expression was sympathy personified. “I know, Merls. I don't want you to either.” She took another drag of her cigarette.

Merlin drove. The silence stretched between them, stifling, suffocating. Morgana glanced back at Cenred. Took a drag. Glanced again. Drag. Glance. Drag. Glance.

“What are you thinking?” Merlin asked when he couldn’t take it any longer. It was… disconcerting. Her intensity.

Morgana lowered her cigarette. Put it out. “When Freya died," she started, hesitating, "you went to Aunt and Uncle. You asked them to bring her back.”

Merlin sniffled, shook his head. “They wouldn’t.”

Morgana practically jumped up in her seat, scaring Merlin half to death in the process. “Wouldn’t, not couldn’t.”

Merlin was shaking his head before she finished. “No, but they were right. She would’ve come back as something… something dark and unnatural.”

Morgana’s eyes were bright in her pale face, and Merlin cringed inwardly. He knew that expression. Knew it far too well.

“Cenred’s already dark and unnatural. I don't care what he comes back as, as long as he comes back with a pulse!”

Merlin groaned. “No, that is not an option.” He dared to glance over to his sister so she’d see just how serious he was. “That is not a choice.”

Morgana flailed her arms out. “We don't have a choice! This is our choice!”

Merlin groaned louder, regretting so many things, so hard.

They took turns driving after crossing the state line. Merlin had exhausted himself in his rush to get to Morgana right then, so getting them back just as fast was right out of the question. Even if he did insist on driving for the first stretch. They cast a stasis charm on Cenred and then Morgana took over driving while Merlin dozed off. He needed food more than he needed sleep, but he was out like a light before they managed to reach the first gas station. Morgana left him asleep while she went in to buy snacks and fill up the tank. Merlin didn’t wake. Morgana just sat there, watching him sleep for a while before sighing deeply, lighting up a cigarette and starting the car again.

Merlin was sprawled across a bed. A big, luxurious bed. A bed that wasn't his, but was familiar just the same. He stretched, opened his eyes and felt a smile spread across his lips. A smile answered his, just as the softest lips he'd ever tasted landed on his in a kiss. Merlin gasped, couldn't not, allowing the kiss to deepen, become more intimate, more intense. His eyes fluttered closed, but he forced them open. He couldn't help it, the gaze that was before him, that was devouring him… Too bright, too blue to ignore. Just like every other time that gaze had captured him, Merlin was powerless to resist. He felt big, strong arms caressing him all over; whined when the lips he so craved, still so craved, moved on to his jaw and his neck and his collarbone. He reached, his hands grasping wide shoulders, sliding into silky strands of corn-gold hair.

"Please…" he whispered, his body trembling, begging alongside him. "Please, I---"

The man above him shushed him. Placed a warm kiss on his cheekbone. Blanketed his body with his own. Merlin moaned. This man… This man was all muscle and raw power and Merlin wanted. He rolled his hips up, felt the man's groan reverberating through him, groaned right back.

"Merlin…" the man breathed in Merlin's ear and Merlin… Merlin flew.

Merlin startled awake with a snort, whipping his head around, disoriented.

"Merls?" Morgana asked, worry in her voice as she glanced from the clear expanse of the road to him. "Everything all right?"

Merlin felt his cheeks burn. To have that dream at a time like this? What was wrong with him?! It wasn't the first time Merlin was there. With him. This fantasy man was a constant in Merlin's dreaming life for years now, almost as long as he practised dreamwalking, in fact. But to dream of him now?

"It's fine. Just a dream," he grunted, hoping his sister was too distracted to not be convinced.

~x~

Merlin was heaving for breath - lugging the literal dead-weight of a rather heavy body, was, well, hard work. This Cenred was heavy.

“You,” he grunted as he dragged Cenred across the lawn while Morgana fluttered about biting her nails, “owe me” – another grunt followed as they reached the steps to the house – “big time.” He waved the front door open and shoved his chin forwards, motioning Morgana to get in first.

The hissing of Aithusa, their coal-black cat, greeted them inside. Merlin rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah, yeah, ‘Thusa, I know.” He heaved Cenred onto the table in their dining room.

“Watch his balls!” Morgana flailed.

Merlin snorted. “You watch his damn balls, Gana.”

She was biting her nails again. “He’s going to be so damn pissed…” “You have no idea how much I don’t care about this fucker’s feelings,” Merlin growled, wiping his forehead of sweat. He caught Morgana’s eye then. “Grimoire.”

She nodded quickly and rushed off.

Merlin took a moment to cast his consciousness around the house - checking their aunt and uncle had indeed taken his babies away. They were in the clear - Merlin shook his head in bemusement - their aunt and uncle had never once missed the Solstice. Lucky for them, granted, but he couldn't help but wonder… He sighed. He could worry about his childrens' exposure to Magick later. They had bigger fish to fry right now.

With that thought, he went to the cupboard and pulled out his instrument roll and flopped it on the table just as Morgana dropped their Grimoire on the other side. Merlin opened the book on the right page right off the bat.

Morgana boggled at him.

“What?” He shrugged. “I… I might’ve been a tad obsessed after Frey, all right?”

Morgana’s eyebrow remained up, but she raised her hands in an unarmed gesture. “Hey, I’m the last one to judge here. Now, where do you want me?”

“There are shiers over there, we need his chest bare.” He nodded at the table, and Morgana nodded, grabbing them and moving back to where Cenred’s body lay.

Merlin was already at one of the cupboards, pulling out jars and herb-bundles. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard her speak again.

“Okay, Cen, I will get you out of this…” He heard her mutter as she cleaved his shirt clear off. “But when I do, we are definitely breaking up.” Merlin’s eyes widened. Morgana stared at the corpse determinedly for a moment. “It is over,” she finished. Her lower lip trembled. Then she took a deep breath and slapped Cenred. Hard.

Merlin boggled. “What are you doing?” He asked, shaking his head when Morgana’s eyes snapped to him and she squeaked.

“Nothing!” Merlin huffed, shook his head, heaved the Grimoire he had picked up again and stalked over. Slamming the Grimoire down onto the table, he asked again. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He bit his lip, hoping against hope that she’d change her mind.

Morgana looked down on Cenred’s body, sprawled across the table. Her hands on her hips, she nodded. “Absolutely.”

They laid him out on the table, propped the Grimoire up so the instructions were clear and… They were ready.

Merlin blew a candle alight. Handed Morgana a bundle of braided wheat; took another bundle, this one of blue sage, himself. Nodding at each other, they lit the bundles over the candle, causing thick, white smoke to begin curling from the bundles and all around them. When the space between them felt… well, not cleansed but at least cleaner, Merlin motioned Morgana to lay her bundle down and step across the table from him.

It placed her on one side, him on the other, with Cenred’s motionless corpse in between. Merlin then began weaving the air with his hands, palms out, going just above Cenred’s skin, over his stomach. Morgana’s hands went the other way, above his own, her motions stuttering every other breath.

"Lips pursed, emit wind over tongue in motion, teeth on edge," Merlin read out aloud and then did as the instructions bid, emitting a low trill as he continued to move his hands. Morgana tried to do it too, but she sounded more like a mouse being strangled.

“No no no,” Merlin shook his head at her and trilled again. Morgana mimicked him, this time sounding closer to what he was doing. “Good enough, good enough,” he muttered distractedly before turning back to the Grimoire. "Touch bounded smudge of blue sage with braided wheat straw.” His eyes widened. “Insert needles through eyes of corpse."

“Through the eye?” Morgana gaped at him, eyes wide.

“In the eye.” Merlin was nodding like he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t squeamish, per se, but, well. They had to stick needles in Morgana’s boyfriend’s eyes. Even he had limits. Still, a deep breath in, trill nice and loud, he glanced at Morgana before motioning her over. They both leaned in, gripping their needles tight, reached in to lift Cenred’s lids and… Thunder struck right then and Merlin yelped, jumping up and away from the table, completely unable to not react any longer.

“No way, no way no way no waaaaay!” Morgana was shaking her head as Merlin continued to flail. “I think we should wait for Aunt and Uncle, Merls.”

Merlin snorted. “Yeah because they’ll help! Oh I can already see Uncle Gaius’ Eyebrow!”

Morgana shuddered.

“It’s now or never,” Merlin finished in a determined tone, rubbing his hands clean on a hand towel. “Okay, I need for you to get me something white to write on top of the star. Chop-chop!” He waved her off, and off she rushed while Merlin eyeballed Cenred wearily.

“This was all I could find…”

Merlin turned only to blink trying to process the can Morgana was holding in her hand, looking apologetic.

“No no… It’s actually brilliant!” Merlin exclaimed, grabbing the can of whipped cream from her. “This is good.” He shook it up before glancing back to the Grimoire. “Now we're supposed to say,” he started, glancing at the instructions and then to Cenred where he was spraying a pentacle over his chest. “Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, mighty Hecate, make it right.”

“Black as night…” mumbled Morgana in an echo while grabbing their needles back up.

Merlin nodded to himself, finished the pentacle, then stuck a finger into the whip and sucked it off - for courage or energy, he didn’t even know.

Morgana handed over a needle and nodded to him then. Merlin nodded back.

“Black as night, erase death from our sight…”

“...as night, erase death from our sight…” Morgana’s voice sounded just a breath later.

“...white as light, mighty Hecate, make it right.”

“...white as light, mighty Hecate, make it right.” And then they were in sync as if no time had passed since they’d chanted back when Morgana still lived at home and their aunt and uncle would make them practice.

“Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, mighty Hecate, make it right.” They spoke in perfect unison, holding each other’s gaze as wind whooshed around them and ghostly whispers rose from what sounded like the depths of the ground below.

“Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, mighty Hecate, make it right. Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, mighty Hecate, make it right.” They chanted, each with one hand on Cenred’s forehead. Their other hands held the needles posed right above his closed eyes.

“Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, mighty Hecate, make it right.”

Thunder was rumbling out a symphony outside, rain pouring down stronger and faster with each word they spoke.

“Black as night, erase death from our sight, white as light, mighty Hecate—”

Morgana glanced back, Merlin following her gaze instinctively and they gasped in unison, the needles clattering to the ground - Cenred’s eyes were bloodshot and very much open.

"Cen, honey…" Morgana stuttered, a shaky smile attempting an appearance on her face. Cenred's eyes shot to her, focused and looking quite insane. Not a breath later, he bolted off the table and went straight for her, hand wrapping around her throat.

"I want you to marry me!!" he screamed, his grip tightening while Morgana tried to pry him off unsuccessfully. "I want you to be my wife!!"

Merlin bolted to the wall where their aunt and uncle kept all their cooking appliances hung neatly.

“Can you promise me that?!” He wrapped his other hand around her neck too, squeezing tighter by the second. Morgana was going blue in the lips as she struggled for breath more and more. “I want you… to be… my…wife!” Cenred growled, struggling to keep his grip on Morgana’s throat.

Just as he was opening his mouth to undoubtedly screech his proposal at her again, Merlin rounded the table and walloped him over the head with their largest iron pan. Once, and again, and then once more - the Goddess loved her triquetra after all.

Cenred went down with a clattering finality, leaving Morgana wheezing, her wide eyes fixed on a panting Merlin.

“I…” he started, waved the pan about, huffed and placed it on the counter. “I’ve no words, Gana.”

She waved her hands about. “I—”

“No.” Merlin held a finger up. “Don’t you even.”

Morgana huffed and crossed her arms. Merlin nodded.

“Good. Now. Go get us some shovels.”

It was still pouring outside, which, really, did not help with the digging at all. Merlin was still too damn peeved to help the process out with magick and Morgana… Well. She was still breathing far too harshly, for Merlin’s liking - her breath wheezing out of her in painful gasps.

When the hole was nice and deep and the both of them were covered head to toe in dirt, not to mention soaked to the skin, Merlin stabbed his shovel into the ground and motioned for Morgana to get out of the hole. After doing which, she immediately pressed her ear to Cenred’s chest.

“You…” Merlin started, clambering over Cenred to get to Morgana, “have the worst,” he grunted, unceremoniously pushing Cenred into the hole, “taste in men.”

They filled the hole in then, the skies finally, finally clearing a little and making the process less difficult. Merlin was stomping over the grass, trying to make sure the ground was nice and even, Morgana’s bare feet making squelching noises as she half-heartedly stomped as well.

“Merls?” she started, hesitantly, and then stopped. Both speaking and stomping.

“Hm?” Merlin hummed distractedly - he was tired and he was cold and he was just, all together - done.

“I know this is gonna sound real stupid what with everything right now, but I just wanna say…” She swallowed. Then swallowed again and collapsed straight into his arms. “Thank you. Thank you, for being my brother.”

Merlin sighed, wrapping his arms around her. “Thank me by leaving men to me, yeah? You clearly should stick to women from now on.”

Morgana barked out a hysterical laughter. “Yeah, all right… What, what are we going to tell aunt and uncle?”

Merlin gulped, bit his lips and shook his head. “Nothing.”

Morgana nodded. “Yeah okay. Okay,” she repeated quietly, then bent down and picked up the shovels, handing one to Merlin.

The shovels made a keen-like noise as they dragged them all the way back into the house.

~x~

Chapter Text

~x~

Merlin took a long hot shower and pointedly did not think about the fact that he'd killed a man. Twice. Instead, he wrapped himself up in his fluffiest robe and collapsed face first into his cotton sheets.

~

He blinked, eyes opening slowly, silk and satin and all kinds of other soft fabric against his face. Merlin blinked again, not worried, but confused. To be here, tonight of all nights, was unexpected to say the least. He hadn’t meant… then again, it wasn’t like it was the first time, was it? Him, getting pulled in, instead of actively reaching out himself. At least he was certain of where and who he was with. There was only one person, after all, who managed to pull Merlin in.

Merlin got up, his movements slow and languid. He stretched, his lips twitching up in a small smile when arms immediately wrapped around his waist from behind and he could lean back into a solid chest.

Finally. A voice whispered in his ear and it trickled over him like honey. Merlin shivered. I’ve missed you. It was a purr, and Merlin sighed softly. Lips, soft, warm, trailed over the side of his neck, ghosted over his nape, ran over the other side of his neck, leaving a searing hot trail of kisses behind.

Ah, Merlin breathed, turning around in his arms, wrapping his arms around his neck. Looked upon the gold-spun hair and blue blue eyes that kept haunting him on so many a night. Kept taunting him. Merlin looked into the cheeky smirk and snapped. With a snarl, he reached, he pulled. Fingers intertwined with his. Lips traced the lines of his face. Precious, wild witch, a disembodied voice purred into his ear. Mine, it promised. Soon, it swore.

~

Merlin's eyes snapped open with a gasp. He was panting. Shivering all over too. He huffed, stretched his arms above his head and blinked blearily at the clock on his bedside table. It was early enough that he could afford to snooze a while longer. He blinked. Then again, it was the morning after the Solstice, which meant… Merlin catapulted out of the bed and rushed through another shower (one cannot have too many after-murder showers, it turns out) before vaulting down the stairs and into the kitchen. He had pancakes to make.

He was just plating the last of the pancakes into the last pancake tower when Morgana burst into the kitchen and dragged him out and into the foyer.

“They’re here they’re here they’re here! Oh what if they don’t like me?”

All Merlin had time for was an eyeroll before the doors slammed open and his two hurricanes were on him, hugging and kissing him and talking all over each other, flower petals raining from both their hair where loads of tiny flower stems were woven in.

“Daddy daddy—”

“...fun! Danced naked and—”

“...round the fire and—”

“Have to come too next year—”

Merlin just smiled at them, fingering the flowers in both their hair gently and waiting until—

Kara turned first, some sense pulling her around. Mordred, naturally, followed. They looked at Morgana for a blink, then another. And then they were screeching and rushing her just as enthusiastically as they had Merlin.

“Auntie Gana!”

“‘tie Gana!”

Morgana oomphed, suddenly bent over double with four overly excited limbs all over her.

“Oh my, look at you two! You’re so big!” Morgana cooed, hugging both of Merlin’s squirming and screeching babies. “I can’t believe this.” She was grinning, patting them all over before glancing up and freezing. There, in the doorway, stood both Uncle and Aunt.

Morgana rose to her feet, her smile growing wobblier by the second. “Hey, Uncle Gaius,” she muttered quietly.

Gaius took one look at her, half a look at the huge bruise she was sporting over half her face and was striding towards her determinately, pulling her to his chest in the same motion. “My darling little girl.”

He ran his fingers through her hair gently and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well then. A little mugwort will fix that right up,” he muttered quietly, and Morgana grinned. “Now then, Kara, Mordred, why don’t we go to the greenhouse and—” The rest of his words were swallowed by Morgana’s squeak of delight as Aunt Alice rushed to smother her in hugs and kisses.

“I’m so happy to see you!” she gushed, and Merlin watched his baby sister positively melt in their Auntie’s embrace. “Don’t you worry, dear,” Aunt Alice said as she pulled back, “whoever he was, he’ll get what he deserves.”

Merlin flinched while Morgana’s smile froze on her lips.

“Well then,” she continued, oblivious, “I think a brownie for breakfast will fix you right up.”

“A brownie?” Morgana gaped at their Aunt, valiantly ignoring the searing look Merlin was sending her way. “You’re still doing that?”

Aunt Alice scoffed. “Are we still doing… You’ve been away too long, child!”

“Some things never change!” Morgana crowed happily, jumping her way towards the kitchen while Aunt Alice followed her with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

Merlin tracked their progress with his eyes, arms wrapped around his middle before he too, dragged his feet after them. Not even he noticed that instead of going off to the greenhouse with their Uncle and her brother, Kara was stood by the window, the curtain gripped tightly in her small fist, as she gazed into the gazebo outside. Gazebo where roses were twisting round and round the wooden structure. Gazebo, underneath which Cenred lay.

~x~

Merlin’s eyebrow was twitching. He kept glancing up at where Morgana was splayed across the windowsill of his shop, a ciggy between her lips while she rubbed one of Merlin’s moisturizers all over her arms.

“Oh, Merls, I love this stuff. It’s great, you’ve done a great job!” she praised with a grin.

Merlin’s eyebrow’s twitching was increasing. He very valiantly ignored the snickering coming from where Gwaine was dusting a shelf in the corner. “Gana if you’re going to work here, maybe you could, oh I don’t know…” He waved a hand in the air. “Work?”

“I am. I’m testing the merchandise,” Morgana said with a wink.

Gwaine was definitely losing it in his corner, and Merlin was… Merlin was just so damn done with this day. Especially considering…

With a huffed out sigh, he swept his notebook and his papers in hand and stood. “Gwaine, you know where to reach me. I’ll be back. If anyone cares,” he muttered under his breath and the door might have slammed just a little behind him as he left.

Morgana flinched and turned to Gwaine, question in her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

Gwaine shook his head, “Nah, love. It’s just the phone-tree day that’s got him all twisted.”

The door opened and closed again just as he was speaking. “Ugh. Must you. Inside?” Gwen scrunched her nose up as she entered and made a beeline towards Morgana. Before the other woman could so much as blink, Gwen was plucking the still smoldering cigarette from her lips and putting it out in the tiny little platter Merlin had designated for his sister’s personal use. “It stinks and it’s really bad for you, you know. Not to mention, however will anyone want to kiss you, hmm? It’ll be like kissing an ashtray and that’s never too fun an experience, is it?” She shook her head and finally looked around. “Where’s Merlin?”

Gwaine opened up his mouth to answer, but was far too slow for the whirlwind that was Gwen.

“Oh! It’s the phone-tree day, isn’t it?” Gwen answered her own question, with a light slap to her own forehead. “How could I forget… Poor Merlin.”

Morgana blinked. “How come?” Then she frowned. “What even is a phone-tree day?”

“Parents hotline,” Gwen hummed, walking over with a bin and emptying Morgana’s platter into it. “If there’s an emergency like a snowday they decide who’s the most responsible…”

Gwaine snorted. “You mean the most popular.”

“...responsible,” Gwen continued, straight up ignoring Gwaine, “mother to sound the alarm. Each mom calls the next down the list - it’s quite the big deal to get chosen.”

“But Merlin never gets picked, cuz everyone knows he’s a wit—” Gwaine started turning to face Morgana and then seemed to choke on his words, eyes widening as he realized who he was talking to. Morgana’s eyebrow rose slowly. “Different,” Gwaine finished with a little bow of his head.

“Hm.” Was all Morgana responded with, lightning up another cigarette which Gwen promptly put out with a cluck of her tongue. Morgana didn’t seem to even notice.

~x~

Merlin was seriously contemplating taking a nap. That, he felt, would be far more productive than the meeting he found himself in. Then again, he never knew when he might end up with his mystery lover. Probably best to err on the side of caution then. He stifled a sigh and stapled his fingers under his chin. The loud gaggle of mothers was about to bring on a headache, he could just feel it. As the only parent of the male persuasion in the classroom, Merlin… Well. He wasn’t exactly feeling the love. Even if he had seen quite a few of these mothers in their dreams. Had them in all sorts of ways even.

“...quiet now! The third name from the top of the phone-tree is…” the meeting-lead was speaking, and Merlin forced himself to focus. Not that he expected to hear his own name anytime soon, considering the context, but, still. “Dory Catcher!”

Excited and congratulatory murmurs rippled through the classroom. Merlin was just about to start working on a new recipe on the corner of his notebook when the door slammed open and Morgana tumbled through. Merlin blinked. The Mothers went silent.

“Sorry, excuse me, sorry for interrupting,” Morgana mumbled with a timid, far too timid for her, smile, her eyes rushing about the classroom, searching.

“Can I help—” the meeting-lead started, but Morgana was, after all, Morgana.

“Ah, there he is! My brother. I’m just here to see my brother.” Her grin was far stronger as she looked at Merlin with a wave and began making her way towards him.

“Is that a snake tattoo?” one mom hissed to another in what was, most likely, supposed to be a whisper. It was not a whisper.

“Yeah,” another agreed fervently, “and there’s one on her boob too!”

Merlin exchanged a Look with Morgana. Morgana smirked. Merlin swallowed down a groan and forced himself to not start shaking his head in an emphatic NO.

“Yep~ that’s right, I’m back, ladies!” Morgana did a little wiggle with her hips that Merlin was quite certain was illegal, “So hold on to your husbands and your own skirts as well!” And with one final wink she collapsed beside Merlin in the midst of the wild buzzing of The Mothers.

“All that’s missing now is me following my son’s lead and streaking down the street in mouse ears naked,” Merlin choked out, and Morgana lost it, stifling her giggles into his shoulder.

“Ladies! The second from the top of the phone-tree will be…” the meeting-lead grabbed the meeting by the horns again and the buzzing changed to muted excitement again, “Abigail Little!”

The women chittered excitedly, congratulating Abigail.

Morgana boggled, leaning into Merlin. “Is this for real?”

Merlin nodded, his eyes twinkling. Morgana snorted, burying her face in her cupped palms.

“You know I heard she screwed coach Baker,” Emilly Gorker whispered in that so-totally-meant-for-everyone-to-hear voice.

Morgana’s eyes snapped to her and…

“Ouch!” Emilly yelped, jumping and sticking her very much stung by something thumb into her mouth.

“Don’t do that,” Merlin whispered in an actual whisper, his lips twitching.

Morgana turned to him, grinning, and spread her hands over the table, palms up. “Wasn’t me.”

“Well I didn’t—” Merlin started.

“It was you,” Morgana interrupted.

They both sniggered, and Merlin shook his head, unable to believe just how much better his baby sister made everything, just by being there. Even if all she did was cause mischief.

“Finally,” their amusement was interrupted by the meeting-lead, who was grinning the most pleased of grins, “oh, I am so pleased to report this,” she took a deep steadying breath. “The top of the phone-tree list is…” She looked down into her notes and the ballots with each mother’s votes and…froze. “Is…” she continued far less confidently as she shuffled through her papers over and over again. “Is… Merlin Ambrosius,” she finished, her face blank in shock.

There was buzzing all around immediately while Merlin just gaped.

“Whooo!” Morgana cheered, slow-clapping and giving Merlin a wicked grin. “Go, Merls.” She lowered her voice then, her grin turning into a soft, still wicked though, smile. “Now that, that was me.”

Merlin bit his lip and nudged her with his shoulder in thanks.

~

“Absolute chaos, that was, wasn’t it? Felt like a feral cat fight!” Morgana marveled on their way home.

Merlin snorted. “Welcome to the life of parenthood, Gana.”

She shuddered, “Yeah no, thanks. I think I’ll stay the wild aunt instead.”

Merlin laughed, opened his mouth to answer and froze. ‘Soon, my wild witch.’

“Merls?” Morgana stopped as well, her voice concerned.

‘I’ll be there, soon.’

Merlin gasped, completely thrown - he was awake. Nowhere near even so much as drowsy. But he knew that voice. Knew it intimately. Had heard it just last night, words breathed into his ear, whispered against his naked skin. Merlin swallowed, looking around quickly and wrapping himself tighter into his sweater before herding Morgana homewards at a faster pace. Any inquiries she made on the way falling on death ears.

~x~

The quiet of the night was interrupted by the almost soundless slithering of vines over the ground. There, by the gazebo, roses were wrapping round and round the structure, toads croaking in between the thorns.

~x~

“Eye of newt and toe of frog,” Uncle Gaius was mumbling as he tossed something or other into a blender, “wool of bat and tongue of dog.”

“Adder’s fork and blindworm’s sting,” added Aunt Alice, tossing in her own something-something.

“Barbados lime is just the thing~” Uncle Gaius was grinning as he poured a yellowish-greenish liquid in.

Aunt Alice emptied out a tiny platter into the blender then. “Cragged salt like a sailor’s stubble—”

They both stepped away from the table, Uncle Gaius tossing the blender lid into the air. “Flip the switch and let the cauldron bubble!” And, with a wave of four hands, the blender’s lid popped onto it and the blender started up and laughter rang out throughout the ancient house, rising up and up and up.

~x~

Merlin scrunched his nose up in an effort to dislodge whatever was tickling him. The tickling did not cease. Merlin frowned and forced one eye open.

“Wakey-wakey~” Morgana sang-songed from crouching over his bed.

Merlin blinked. Listened. Recognized the whirring noise and grinned.

“Midnight margaritas!” they both exclaimed in unison, Morgana already tearing the covers off of Merlin as he scrambled to get out of bed.

Merlin danced down the stairs, Morgana at his heels, the notes to ‘Coconut’ twirling up around them. Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice greeted them at the entrance to the kitchen, both of them moving to the beat as well. They handed Merlin and Morgana glasses rim-full of margaritas. Margaritas that were delicious, potent as all hell and very much magical as they came from a recipe ‘handed down through generations of Ambrosiuses’. Meaning the recipe did indeed come from none other than the family Grimoire.

None of which truly mattered at the moment as all that did was the four of them, dancing around the kitchen table, drinking and singing and having an absolute blast, now that Morgana was finally back where she belonged, right there, with Merlin, right back home.

Margaritas did not last them too long. The blender might’ve been on the bigger side, but there were now four of them so… the tequila had come out when the singing and the dancing calmed and they finally, finally managed to sit down.

“I—” Morgana began, after taking a generous swig from her glass, placing it back down and staring intently at Merlin’s open palm for a moment, “I see a man in your future.”

There were collective coos from around the table.

Morgana continued, “And, whoa,” she grinned at Merlin lasciviously, “He is gorgeous,” she gasped, wiggled her eyebrows and finished, “and big.”

“Gana!” Merlin screeched, feeling a blush flaming up his face right to the roots of his hair.

Uncle and Aunt cackled and clinked glasses.

“But you’re scared to death,” Morgana went on through her own cackles, “and you wind up a frigid old hag, with your frigid old hags of an Aunt and Uncle.” She hiccuped, her smile turning wooden. “I don’t know where that came from. That was weird.”

Aunt Alice snorted and licked salt off her hand before downing a shot. She waved a hand in Morgana’s direction, “She’s never been interested in her gifts. She just made all of that up.”

“Please, Morgana has her own magic. And we all know what it is,” Uncle Gaius laughed through a hiccup, frowning at himself as soon as he stopped speaking.

“Hah,” Merlin rolled his eyes, “since when is being a slut a crime in this family?”

They all fell into uncontrollable laughter then, Aunt Alice merrily plopping off her chair in her merriment.

“Oh honey,” Uncle Gaius was wiping tears from his wrinkled cheek as he chuckled, “what would you know about it?”

Merlin was opening his mouth to tell his Uncle exactly what he knew—

“When we put that spell on you and Freya, we had to bind it with molasses just to get you to get between her legs!”

Merlin snorted, shaking his head, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“You self-centered shrew!” Morgana cackled.

“Ingrate!” Aunt Alice chipped in, hiccuping through her own laughter.

“Witch!” Merlin crowed, slapping a hand over his mouth as he did.

They all laughed and laughed and laughed and… Just like that, they all stopped. Something felt… Wrong.

Merlin turned his gaze to Morgana, looking at her blearily. She looked back, her eyes struggling to focus just as much.

~...never found the time…

You were always on my mind,

You were always on my mind~

Uncle Gaius and Aunt Alice sat leaning onto each other as they crowed drunkenly, managing to only get every other note right.

Merlin fingered the tequila bottle gingerly before taking it into his hand firmly and turning it so the label faced him and Morgana.

Morgana stiffened, her eyes turning wild, as she whipped her head to look from the bottle to Merlin. They knew that bottle. They knew that bottle intimately.

“Where did this bottle come from?” Merlin asked, his voice shaking far too much to be anywhere near steady. He couldn’t help it for shit though. He was freaking out far too badly.

Uncle and Aunt were still singing merrily, ignoring the question.

“Where did this bottle come from?” Merlin knew he raised his voice. Knew sounded just as panicked as he felt. No fucks were given by him at that point.

~Someone left it on the porch,

Someone left it on the porch~

Sang Uncle and Aunt through their giggling. Morgana gasped, grabbed the bottle and rushed to the counter, smashing the bottle to pieces in the sink. With that, any and all singing promptly came to a stop.

“What’s going on here, huh?” Aunt Alice asked, walking over to Morgana on far steadier feet than her singing would have suggested. “Merlin, what’s going on in this house?” she asked, whipping her head to him, “Something is going on, I can smell it.”

“Yes, it’s a very distinct smell,” Uncle Gaius chimed in, his eyes narrowed and his eyebrow in the sky, “It’s the smell of bullshit.”

Merlin could only sit frozen in his seat at the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A broom fell, where it had been resting in a corner, clattering to the floor loudly and making all four of them jump.

Merlin, on his feet now, glanced to Morgana, meeting her wild eyes with his own.

“Broom fell,” Aunt Alice observed, voice calm, but hiding its shakiness, “Company’s coming.”

It took a few moments for Merlin to collect himself before he could speak. “We had a problem,” he crossed his arms across his chest, “We handled it.”

“We deserve an explanation,” Uncle Gaius intoned, dark eyes serious and eyebrow at an all time high.

Morgana opened her mouth. No sound came out. Merlin tried next, same success.

“Right.” Uncle Gaius’s voice was dry. It was an effort, for Merlin, to make sure he didn’t flinch. “Come on, Alice, let’s go.”

And just like that, Merlin was staring at his sister across the kitchen, the two of them alone in the stifling, heavy silence that had descended after their Aunt and Uncle left.

“No. No.” Morgana seemed to unfreeze all at once, moving towards him and away from the sink. “No, it’s just not possible.” Merlin opened his mouth, but she spoke right over him. “Don’t even think it, Merls, I swear.”

Merlin threw his hands up, “Then tell me how that got here, Gana.” He stalked over to the sink and stabbed a shaking finger, pointing to the shards on the bottom, “Tell me how this bottle got here.”

Morgana shook her head, her lips pulled up in an even shakier than Merlin’s finger, smile, “It’s not possible.”

~

The gazebo outside was moving. Well, no. It wasn’t the gazebo itself that moved. But, in the dark of night, the twisting vines, the blooming roses that had no reason to bloom in the middle of the night, made it look like it was. A toad croaked, wiggling out from beneath the roots of the roses. The vines swung in the silent night, moving with no wind to move them.

~

“Leaving like this is a harsh lesson,” Aunt Alice hummed, standing watch over her brother’s shoulder as he pried a loose board off the steps to open up a hidden nook.

“A lesson they must learn on their own,” Uncle Gaius said firmly, reaching inside and pulling out a sturdy looking box.

Aunt Alice clucked her tongue, worry coloring her words. “But what about the little ones?”

Uncle Gaius shook his head and opened up the box. “Not to worry, Alice dear, a good piece of Nimueh’s hanging rope will protect them.” He nodded firmly, plucking off a few strands from an old looking cord.

“You have to promise us you won’t take them off,” Aunt Alice whispered to Kara, leaning over the bed both she and Mordred were cuddling in, “Not until we come home.”

“We’ll only be gone a short while,” Uncle Gaius added, patting Mordred’s head.

“Okay? Do you hear us? Yeah?” Aunt Alice brushed a stray strand of hair from Kara’s forehead.

Kara nodded, blinking sleepily. “Mhm.”

“Promise?” asked Uncle Gaius, smiling down at the children softly.

“Yes,” Mordred mumbled, snuggling back into his sister’s arms.

“Okay then,” Uncle Gaius exchanged a look with Aunt Alice and they both leaned over to kiss the children’s heads.

“Love you,” Mordred yawned, making the old witches smile wider.

“We love you too, darlings.”

~

There was the shrill trill of a kazoo being played, ringing across the house. It was loud and it was shrill and…

“Make him stop.” Morgana was clutching at her head as she came down the steps. “Make him stop, I’ll pay whatever it takes.”

The Coconut, in all its glory, was being played, again, by a very cheerful looking Mordred. Morgana whimpered.

Merlin handed her his own cup of coffee and turned towards his son. “Honey, can I see that for a second?”

Mordred grinned, “Sure, Daddy.” He handed the kazoo over, and Merlin managed something that somewhat remotely resembled a smile.

“Yeah? Thanks,” he said, taking the kazoo and flinging it somewhere that was away.

“Hey!” Mordred protested with a pout.

“Where’d you get that ugly thing around your neck?” Merlin smoothly turned his attention away, raising an eyebrow at the piece of rope that was tied around his son’s neck. His daughter’s too, now that he was looking.

“They said it would protect us,” Kara answered, turning away from the window, to speak to Merlin. Mordred nodded energetically at that.

Merlin just hummed, noncommittally, already rummaging through the kitchen cupboards. “Kara, could you please go get that mint from the garden before your bus gets here?” He slammed another cupboard closed and winced at the sound. “Where is the bloody aspirin…” Leaning over the threshold into the other room, Merlin frowned, seeing as Kara was still standing there, looking outside through the window. “Honey, please do as I say.”

“Not while he’s out there,” Kara said softly, her eyes glued to something outside.

“Not while who’s out where?” Merlin asked with a frown, leaning even deeper into the room, his search for aspirin temporarily forgotten.

Kara’s answer, when it came, was still soft, yet nevertheless, chilled both Merlin and Morgana to the bone. “The man under the roses.”

“What,” Morgana gasped, no inflection in her tone, as she bolted from the table, her barely lit cigarette abandoned on her plate. Mordred snuffed and tossed it out with a scrunched up expression on his face.

“I… I don’t see him, sweetie, are you looking at him now?” Merlin forced through a completely dry throat as he frantically scanned the backyard with his eyes, Morgana on the other side of Kara doing the same.

Kara nodded, “He’s right there.”

“Where?” Morgana was beginning to sound hysterical.

“By the roses,” Kara answered in the same even tone, that was seriously starting to freak Merlin right the fuck out. “They grew overnight.”

Morgana’s face was the palest Merlin had seen in a while. “Oh shit,” she breathed, her eyes wide and looking more afraid than when Cenred had had his hands wrapped around her throat.

“Okay, sweetie,” Merlin nodded to Kara, swallowing. “We’ll get rid of it,” he finished, lifting her bodily and giving her a little push towards the kitchen. “You better call Aunt and Uncle now,” he hissed to Morgana after making sure his daughter was starting her breakfast.

“They left though?” Kara blinked at them over her cereal.

Merlin felt his blood freeze in his veins. “What do you mean they left?”

“When did they leave?” Morgana asked right on top of him.

“They said to give you a message,” Mordred mumbled through his own mouthful, “Clean up your own mess,” he finished decisively, swallowed another spoonful and grinned at his flabbergasted father and auntie.

~

“Oh, Goddess,” Morgana moaned, speed-walking to the rose bushes that had now completely swallowed up the gazebo. “You… you stop this, Cenred, you stop it,” she ranted at the roses, delving in head first, tearing at the vines and buds and leaves with her bare hands, getting all cut up in the process.

“Gana,” Merlin barreled right after her, grabbing her by the waist and trying to pull her out.

“He’s making them grow, Merls, he’s trying to get to us by making them grow!” Her voice was high and shaky as she resisted his pull and kept on destroying the bushes. “You leave us alone!”

Merlin grunted when she elbowed him with her flailing and then pulled her own with a strong yank and just a tiny bit of magical assistance. “Stop. Gana, stop it. Stop.”

Morgana wheezed, her hands trembling on Merlin’s arms.

Merlin was so, so fucking done with this shit. It wasn’t even funny.

Morgana squeaked, the sound making Merlin blink because holy fuck his sister did not squeak.

“Gana, what?”

“His boots,” Morgana’s voice was still squeaky as she pointed over Merlin’s shoulder with a trembling finger.

Merlin twirled around and lo and behold - there were tips of leather boots they had buried Cenred in, sticking right out of the ground.

“Oh, Goddess. Oh, my Goddess. Is he? Is he rising?” Morgana’s voice was tipping into hysteria again. “Or is it the ground? Is it sinking? Merls? Oh, Goddess…”

The boots sank right back into the ground as they watched, and Merlin swallowed against a dry throat.

“Okay.” Merlin’s throat clicked and he coughed, forcing down his own damn hysteria.

“What is he doing to us?” Morgana was pacing behind Merlin, her eyes trained to the ground. “He’s trying to get us, Merls, oh my—” she was whining now.

Merlin felt his eyebrow twitch. This absolute fucker. To have reduced Gana, his Gana to this terrified little creature. Oh, Merlin was Fury itself. Could damn near feel the claws coming in.

With a bitten off growl, he turned around and placed gentle hands firmly on his baby sister’s shoulders. “Go inside.”

Morgana’s eyes snapped to his, her gaze wild and barely focused.

“Inside,” Merlin repeated, his voice broking no arguments. “Gana, go take care of my babies. Now.”

Morgana nodded, pulling herself together as much as she was able and focusing. Merlin knew she loved his babies as her own. It was a good distraction for her, caring of them. He watched as she continued nodding even as she twisted away and rushed back into the house, the doors slamming behind her.

One long exhale was all Merlin gave himself before grabbing the pruning sheers and getting to work. He was so focused, grunting and cutting away, waist deep in the damn bush, he completely and utterly missed the person coming down from the street and towards him.

“It’s kinda early for roses, isn’t it?”

Merlin froze. From the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes. He could swear even his damn blood froze in his veins. The sheers hung limply from his numb fingers as he slowly, so fucking slowly, turned around and moved out of the rosebush doing his damnedest to not trip over his own feet.

A hand reached up and removed dark sunglasses revealing an amused gaze. An amused gaze and blue, blue eyes. Merlin swallowed.

~x~

Chapter Text

~x~

“It’s kinda early for roses, isn’t it?”

Merlin was having a brain-freeze. Or a straight up shut-down, actually. T’was really either/or kind of situation. ‘Cause see, he knew that voice. Knew it well. Knew it intimately. It was just that… he couldn’t… for the life of him… Place it. It was the craziest thing he was certain he knew that voice, that cadence, but… Merlin blinked, shook it off and turned. Aaaaand, promptly froze again. Blue. He was drowning in too much damn blue, too damn blue eyes and what, the actual, fuck, was going on.

“Can I help you with something?” he forced out through numb lips and congratulated himself for even managing that much. Whoever this man was, he was fucking Merlin up. And he had only just arrived too. It was downright unfair.

“I sure hope so,” the man answered, smiling, seemingly completely oblivious to Merlin’s internal Struggles. “Name’s Arthur Pendragon. I’m a special investigator for the state prosecutor’s office in Tucson.”

He stepped closer, offering Merlin his badge, and Merlin had to shield his eyes with his hand a little - the light of the sun reflecting on the shining metal star was very bright. He ran his eyes over the information inscribed on there anyway though, just to give himself a moment more to settle.

“Well,” he started, clearing his throat, “you sure are a long way from home, officer.” Merlin smiled, hoped he did, at least, because boy howdy was looking at this man making it hard to focus.

“Yes, sir.” The badge got hidden back inside an inner jacket pocket while Merlin’s eyes trailed the glint of the ring, shining on the man’s, on Special Investigator Pendragon’s, pointer finger. “I was kind of hoping to talk to your sister, Morgana… If she’s around.”

Merlin locked down his face in as blank an expression as he possibly could. “Oh?”

Pendragon nodded. “She might have some information on a case I’m working on.”

“Ah,” Merlin swallowed, pointedly did not flinch. “I’ll get her then.” He stumbled away and was halfway up the steps before something occurred to him and he turned around.

Special Investigator Pendragon was crouched amidst the devastation of shorn roses, a bloom in his hand that he was observing rather seriously.

“Um,” Merlin started and felt a flush rush to his cheeks immediately—um, Merlin, really?—“How did you know she was my sister?” he finished gamely anyway and flushed ever brighter as he watched the investigator lift the bloom to his nose and smile into the petals as he answered.

“Oh, well. Lucky guess, I guess.”

“Mm,” Merlin wheezed and stepped onto the steps with legs that were just this side of shaky.

What is wrong with me?, he thought, despairing and barely managing to control the urge to pull on his hair in sheer frustration. He had not been this bad at this in freaking years! Merlin was halfway up the stairs before he froze and figured that maybe it wasn’t too smart an idea to leave the special investigator fucking crouching over the grave of a dead man. A dead man that he and his sister had killed and buried just days ago. And who, by the by, just kept on straight up refusing to fucking stay buried.

“Um, why don’t you come inside?” he asked with something that he hoped resembled a smile and dashed in himself after making sure the investigator was following.

Merlin sprinted upstairs, finding Morgana sitting in the middle of the attic, in a lotus pose, headphones on her ears. Her eyes were closed and she was humming quietly, but her fingers were twitching on her thighs and— Frankly, Merlin had bigger issues than how nervous she was at the moment.

“Gana. Morgana!” he whisper-screeched, yanking the headphones off and making Morgana yelp.

“Goddess, Merls!”

Merlin waved off her peevishness, drawing in deep breaths and beginning to pace. “There’s a cop downstairs, looking for Cenred,” he inhaled shakily. “He wants to talk to you”—another deep, shaky inhale—“and I think I’m having a fucking heart attack,” he wheezed out, hand on his chest. He felt his knees wobble and barely heard when Morgana spoke.

“…kay. Just calm down. Caaaaalm down,” Morgana drawled, forcing Merlin to breathe with her, slow and steady pulls, that did, in fact, help with the black spots that had begun dotting his vision. “Okay. So, what is the question?” she asked, still seated on the floor. “The question is, ‘How much can he know?’”

Merlin let out a slightly hysterical giggle. “Well, fuck, he seems to know a whole fucking lot, what with him having come all the way from bloody Arizona!” Merlin was biting at his nail as he continued to pace only to stop suddenly and toss a wild-eyed glance towards Morgana. “This’ll sound really strange, but, Gana, I,”—he swallowed heavily—“I don’t think I can lie to him.”

Morgana boggled up at him and scrambled to her feet. “Oh by the Goddess. Of course you can bloody well lie to him! Now breathe.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pressed. “Breathe.”

Merlin took a shuddering inhale and nodded. Fuck whatever Uncle and Aunt thought - his Gana was wicked powerful.

“Here’s the story, right? Here’s the story.” Morgana squeezed his shoulders again and looked him straight in the eye. “I left him.”

Merlin nodded. “Left him.”

“Because he hit me,” Morgana continued.

Merlin nodded again. “Hit you.”

Morgana smiled then. “And we haven’t seen him since.” Merlin was still nodding as she continued. “And it’s as simple as that. You just let me handle the rest, okay, sweetie?”

Merlin felt like his neck was going to start cramping real soon if he didn’t stop with the thrice-be-damned nodding. “Okay. Good. Okay.” Merlin kept muttering under his breath as he turned to go back down the stairs, and it took Morgana a few tries to get through to him. “Left him because he hit you and haven’t seen him since… What?”

“Is he cute?” Morgana asked, half turning and never stopping fiddling with her hair.

Merlin blinked. “Um… yeah. I mean. He’s… um…golden and gorgeous and…” Merlin felt a flush climbing up his cheeks again and hurried his steps. “His teeth are crooked!” he whisper-yelled back up the stairs before bolting. “Okay,” he continued under his breath, ignoring Morgana’s cackling that followed him down. “I left him because she hit him and, uh…”

Morgana’s eyebrow twitched. She sped up her primping.

Merlin said a quick prayer to the Goddess as he hurried down the stairs, forcefully slowed down his steps when he reached the greenhouse besides the kitchen and… stopped. Half hidden behind the doors, he watched the Special Investigator poke about the large table that held Merlin’s pestle and mortar, vials and bowls and tiny little pots of planted herbs and—

Merlin bit his lip. That was his work space. His meditation space. It was sacred. And sure, he shared it with Aunt and Uncle a little. With Gana, now that she was here. His babies were constantly underfoot as he created and crafted and made but… that was Family. Family was allowed. Special Investigator Arthur Pendragon was not Family. And yet. Merlin felt no compulsion to rush in and grab the little jar the investigator was rattling, sniffing at cautiously. No compulsion to kick the man out. It was… It was damn peculiar is what it was.

“Just herbs,” he said, crossing his arms over his belly and stepping into the greenhouse proper. The special investigator’s head snapped up and there was a question in his eyes. “You know, from the garden,” Merlin finished.

The man blinked. “Oh.” He quirked a smile and put the jar down. “Uh…” he began, sounding rather nervous as he started towards Merlin.

Merlin, however, figured he couldn’t freeze if he was the one talking and… “So, what brings you to the island?” he asked, swallowing as the investigator drew closer.

He stopped right in front of Merlin and drew out a worn out looking envelope. Merlin, against his best intentions, froze.

“This,” the investigator said simply, oblivious to Merlin’s internal screeching.

“You…” Merlin had to clear his throat and try again, his voice refusing to work for him properly, “You read my letter.”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“It was a very personal letter,” Merlin said through numb lips.

“Yes, sir, it was.” There was nothing on the investigator’s face as he spoke. Perfect poker face he had, the absolute fucker.

Merlin raised a shaky hand, reaching for the letter but the investigator slipped it right back into his jacket’s inner pocket with one move, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s.

They stood in silence for a moment, Merlin swallowing heavily, and the investigator seemingly unable to look away from Merlin’s eyes.

“Um…” he finally started, visibly giving himself a shake.

“I…” Merlin began at the same time, not quite sure what he was about to say.

“What?” the investigator asked immediately, relief evident in his tone.

Merlin’s lips twitched a little. He was morbidly glad that at the very least he wasn’t the only one feeling absolutely wrong-footed.

“I’m sorry,” he cleared his throat, wrapping his arms back around himself, “It’s just you seem very famili—“

“Well hello, there,” came a sultry greeting, and both Merlin and the investigator’s eyes snapped to the stairs which Morgana was descending, a million-watt smile on her face.

“Morning, miss…” the investigator started, turning towards her.

Merlin, still as wrong-footed as can be, turned as well, slamming right into the pot hanging on the wall besides the doors. With his head.

The investigator blinked at him. Merlin prayed to the Goddess his poker face was at least half as efficient as the investigator’s.

“Good morning, Miss Ambrosius,” he finished, his eyes once again on Merlin’s sister.

“Good morning, Mr…?” Morgana was smiling, swaying her hips lightly as she walked.

Usually, it’d have made Merlin smirk. Usually, he’d be snickering at the poor fucker who was about to fall ass over teakettle for Morgana’s… charms.

Merlin only felt sick.

“Mr Pendragon.” The investigator was smiling, but he didn’t look charmed. His smile was verging on—Merlin’s eyebrow twitched — constipated, more like.

“Pendragon,” Morgana purred, rolling the name between her lips. Merlin swallowed bile.

The investigator cleared his throat, looking even more uncomfortable now. And, strangely, rather confused by his own reaction.

“Listen, I’m not gonna beat around the bush,” he refocused admirably and now, well, now all his attention was on Morgana, yes. Somehow, however, Merlin was getting the impression it wasn’t quite the attention Morgana had had in mind. “I need to find your boyfriend, Cenred King.”

Morgana wrinkled her nose in distaste and stepped around the kitchen table, moving in closer to the investigator. “I… I don’t know where he is.” She plopped down on the table, right in front of him, close enough to command all his attention and keep it all on her. “And I wouldn’t exactly call him my boyfriend.” The shudder that ran down her spine was completely genuine, Merlin could tell, even as he pretended he wasn’t blatantly eavesdropping and watching them from the other side of the kitchen where he was rummaging through a cupboard with absolutely no intention of finding absolutely anything in particular.

“He’s more uh… He’s more like a big mistake,” she finished, her smile turning sharp.

The investigator, who had a little notebook and a pen out, gestured to her face with the pen. “That his handiwork there?”

Morgana’s smile could cut diamonds. “If a man hits me, he only does it once.” At seeing the investigator nod, her smile widened. “Can I take a peek at your…?” She motioned for his hand and took it between hers, looking keenly into his palm.

Merlin was sure she was tracing the lines softly with a finger too, all the while fluttering her lashes and—Merlin bit down the seething rage that was boiling inside him with a start. What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

“Wow,” Morgana purred, and Merlin forced himself to breathe deeply. “Now, I can just tell that you have never touched a woman in anger all your life.”

The bowl Merlin had randomly picked up was shaking in his hands and he… he had to blink away the darkness that had begun to obscure his vision.

“May I have my hand back, please?” the investigator asked, his tone flat, and the bowl was suddenly… not shaking anymore. Huh.

“Sure.” Morgana startled and released the investigator’s hand.

“What you’re trying to tell me is, you have no idea where he is?”

Morgana finally lost her smile. “I told you. He hit me. I haven’t seen him since.”

The investigator nodded, hummed thoughtfully. “And when was that?”

“Three days ago,” Morgana fired back immediately, floundered, turned back to Merlin. “Right, Merls? Yeah, three days,” she finished when Merlin just nodded, still facing the cupboards.

The investigator hummed again, his lips twitching up in a wry little thing of a smile. “Excuse me, uh…” He slipped by Morgana smoothly and stepped round the table and closer to Merlin. “Merlin? Whose car is that in the driveway?”

And here, here was where Merlin made a Mistake. He turned around and came face to face with the Special Investigator Arthur Pendragon. “Hm?” was the best he could manage, considering the circumstances.

“The one with the Arizona plates,” the investigator continued, gaze still locked on Merlin.

Merlin couldn’t remember how to language for the life of him.

“Oh, that’s my car.” Morgana beamed at the investigator again, leaning into his line of vision. “Oh, that’s your car?” There was some amusement in the question, the cheer seemingly mimicking the one Morgana was putting out.

“Mm,” she agreed, her smile brittle, but holding.

“Huh.” The investigator flipped through the pages of his notebook deliberately, and Merlin’s eyes narrowed. It seemed his sister and he weren’t the only ones putting on a bit of an act. “Plate number 2-2-9-M-O-B?” He glanced between Morgana and Merlin quickly then, his eyebrow rising. “Uh-huh,” he started, and Merlin forced down a wince. That was not a promising tone. “That’s Cenred F. King’s car.” Another glance through, and Merlin bit down a straight up whine. “Come on now.”

Merlin had absolutely no intention of speaking. None. Whatsoever. He’d just stand there and let Gana handle — “We stole it.” Came out of his mouth. Completely on its own. “And it’s a crime.” Morgana’s eyes were growing larger. “I know this, I do, bu— but he basically kidnapped her and…” Morgana’s eyes were growing larger, and Merlin could have cried he wanted to stop speaking so badly.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” The investigator was glancing between the siblings again. “He kidnapped you?”

Morgana was opening her mouth to speak. Merlin, however, beat her to it.

“Well, no, no, no, he… um, he, he didn’t really kidnap her. He sort of, like,” Morgana’s eyes were reaching dinner-plate size at this point. “Just a little nap. No, she was… she was… There was a car and she…” Merlin waved his hands about a little. “Would… It… You know that thing… She…” The investigator had turned back to face him and was slowly moving closer while Merlin fucking babbled at him. “What happened was that she… She just… heh.”

Morgana was openly boggling at her brother, a look of sheer horror growing on her face. “You should know, she has the worst taste in men. She…” He glanced over at Morgana, his eyes screaming out a Help!!! “Ha ha ha, well, you do.” He swallowed and… for all that’s holy, continued. “So… so anyway, I picked her up and I drove her right back here.”

The investigator was focused utterly and completely on Merlin now. Seemingly listening to every word that Merlin word-vomited all over him. Except… except his eyes seemed to stray over and over to Merlin’s… collarbone.

“And…” Merlin gulped again, “And we would be so happy… to give him back his car because it’s a crime and…” Merlin choked at the soft touch of a cloth handkerchief that was now being pressed gently, so, so gently, against his collarbone. Merlin did not squeak. He might’ve choked again, but he did not, in any way shape or form, squeak. “…as you say, you just don’t know where he is to…” he trailed off, fucking trembling at the not-quite-touch.

“You… you just got a little…” the investigator muttered, drawing the kerchief back, dotted red with blood where Merlin had most likely been scratched up during his fight with the roses.

“Oh…” Merlin hummed. “Give him back that car,” he finished, rather nonsensically.

“So basically, nobody knows where he is.” The investigator shoved the kerchief back into his pocket.

Merlin blinked at him stupidly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“So you don’t have any idea where he is?” he asked Merlin again, his lips twitching a little.

“Mm.” Was all Merlin managed.

“Would you mind if I just took a look around?” he asked, still quiet, still calm and still so damn smooth Merlin felt like fucking screaming.

“Unh-unh,” he wheezed out instead and watched, helpless, as the investigator left with another twitch of his lips and a soft “Okay.”

Morgana, eyes still wide as can be, mouthed a furious What is wrong with you?

Merlin, damn near tearing his own fucking hair out, mouthed back, just as furious, I don’t know!

Merlin only had a brief moment to settle before the investigator had both him and Morgana sat at the table, a brown folder, chuck-full of pictures and news clippings and whatever else, in front of him.

“This young lady’s name was Phoebe Stone,” he began, pulling out a picture and showing it to both of them. “Two years ago, she was found strangled, lying on the side of the highway.”

Merlin swallowed. Morgana was turning increasingly pale.

The investigator continued. “Her body had been marked,” he pulled out a second photo and what color was left in Morgana’s face promptly evaporated. “with a kind of a brand, burned right into her face.”

Merlin felt rage swivel up inside him all over again as he looked at his sister’s face.

“Any help you can give me in locating this ex-friend of yours,” the investigator spoke, looking right at Morgana, “would sure be appreciated.”

The siblings exchanged a speaking glance and nodded.

~x~X~x~

Using a piece of paper to swipe a couple of tiny red grains from the leather upholstery into a small evidence baggy, Arthur Pendragon frowned. He had no idea what those grains were. And that was saying something, considering how many types of drugs he had dealt with during his career.

Still frowning, he stood up and slapped the hood of the car, getting the tow-truck driver’s attention. “Okay. She’s all yours.”

The trucker waved a hand through the window at Arthur and drove off, dragging Cenred F. King’s car away.

Arthur cracked his neck and got into his own car, taking one last long look at the Ambrosius’s house. That… had been an Experience, the investigator pondered as he drove into town. While Morgana Ambrosius looked fierce enough to escape her abuser, especially with help, her brother… Merlin Ambrosius. Arthur hummed. There was something about that man. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly that something was, but... The thought had Arthur smirking; he hadn’t gotten the ‘special’ slapped before his work title just for looking pretty, after all. He’d figure it out. One way or another.

Arthur got into town, parked his car and, since it was a lovely day out, decided to conduct his interviews out and about instead of ambling door to door. That’s when… shit got weird on him.

“Go arrest her!” an old, mean looking woman in a wheelchair told him point blank. Arthur blinked. She took that as a request for further information. So on she went. “Their nephew owns a shop where they cook up a special placenta,” she said, gleefully.

Arthur tried to take that in while at the same time making sure he wasn’t being too obvious in his observation of Merlin who was, oh so very sneakily, spying on him from behind a truck.

“…and that’s why the aunt and uncle don’t age. I tell you, they just don’t age!”

“He’s… selling placentas?” Arthur inquired because, in all honesty, it was just bamboozling enough to need a repeat.

“A placenta bar!” the old woman reaffirmed, other old women gathered around them nodding fiercely.

Arthur… closed his notebook slowly, managed something that passed for a smile and moved on.

Right to the ice-cream truck he went, drawn by a mob of people who never had the capacity for lying, in Arthur’s experience. It was a gaggle of kids. With their moms as per protocol, naturally, as Arthur would never dare question children alone, but, truth be told, he was far more interested in what the kids could tell him, rather than what the moms’ gossip would unearth.

And boy, did they tell him Things, indeed.

“On Halloween, they all jump off the roof and fly!” one young boy exclaimed, and Arthur felt his eyebrow rise.

“When they get mad at you, they hex you,” another chipped in. His face was… Arthur bit down a cringe, the poor kid had obviously suffered through one hell of a case of chicken pox recently to still be that broken out.

“I don’t know about the Bulgarian,” the broken-out kid’s mom started after handing her son a popsicle— Dolly Portsten, Arthur’s notebook supplied—“…but I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up in a ditch somewhere.”

Arthur contained another eyebrow raise and munched on his own chocolaty goodness on a stick thoughtfully, allowing the moms the space to get it all out.

“Dolly, that is not true,” another mom piped in, shaking her head at Dolly sadly. She then looked right at Arthur. “She’s not saying they murdered him. Just that maybe…”

“Yes, I am,” Dolly Porsten mouthed at Arthur and this time, his eyebrow did rise a little bit.

“…they shook his hand and then he died,” the other mom finished gamely. “It’s very mysterious,” she added, a serious expression on her face.

Arthur… took another bite out of his ice-cream. This case was turning weirder and weirder by the minute. He was loving it.

Next, he was beckoned over to a terrace, in the house just off main street, where a woman was sitting in a pillow-enforced armchair, a wicked little thing of a smile on her face.

“If anyone dared take on an Ambrosius, they’d live briefly in the euphoria of their love… until meeting an untimely death” was what the gray-haired crone told him over the pages of a massive book she had on her knees. She seemed to be reading it as she spoke.

“The curse?” Arthur asked, his voice as serious as he could possibly make it.

The old woman raised her eyes to him and smiled.

After that enlightening – not – conversation, Arthur found himself opening the doors to a little herbal shop, a small bell tinkling overhead as he stepped in.

“Witch? Yeah. Evil? Hell no.” tThe beaming shop hand told Arthur while flipping his luscious locks over his shoulder. “I mean, you get your psychos now and then. Animal slaughter, ritual human disembowelment…” he trailed off, looking away into the distance for a moment before shaking himself from whatever it was he had remembered and continuing, “but all that’s pretty rare, really. See, it’s a pagan label,” he gestured wildly, obviously raring to educate Arthur further, but then he shifrted and his beaming smile turned… soft. Arthur frowned.

“Hey, Merls.”

“Hey.”

Arthur’s head whipped around and there he was—Merlin Ambrosius himself, stepping into his shop, a mug of coffee in his hand. And was it Arthur or was his focus rather more on Arthur than on anyone else in the shop?

“Howdy,” Arthur greeted, his voice coming out somewhat gravely.

“He’s definitely not into that stuff,” the shop hand – Gwaine, Arthur reminded himself with a quick glance to his notebook – whispered right into his ear as Merlin walked behind the counter.

“He’s not, huh?” “Nope.” It sounded definitive. Arthur nodded.

There was a tinkling sound of a bell as the doors opened up again and a tall, balding man in spectacles carrying a paper bag barged in with an air of righteous indignation all around him.

“Mr Ambrosius, I have a bone to pick with you.”

Gwaine turned away from Arthur immediately. “Oh this is gonna be good,” he mumbled, not even attempting to hide his grin.

“What can I do for you, Dwight?”

Arthur felt his lips twitching up and bit that right down at the long-suffering tone of Mr Ambrosius’s voice.

“Now,” the man started, leaning over the counter in a clear try to intimidate the shopkeeper, “I could’ve gone to a qualified doctor, to attend to this scalp condition of mine.”

Arthur, very intrigued, meandered over, in a vague attempt to hide his obvious eavesdropping behind browsing of the merchandise.

“Now, the more I use, the less it works. The product. Doesn’t. Work,” Dwight, apparently, raged, and Arthur took another step closer, ridiculously intrigued by how exactly Mr Ambrosius would handle the agitated man.

How he handled him was… blunt and dry as the Sahara, as it turned out. “Well, that’d be because it doesn’t go on your head.”

Arthur blinked. That… He promptly lost his train of thought because his gaze had drifted down to Mr Ambrosius’s coffee mug where a little wooden spoon was merrily swirling away. By itself. Arthur… blinked again.

“If I don’t put it on my head, where the hell else would it go?” Dwight was getting more and more agitated, his voice rising in volume. He was now also waving the jar he had pulled from his paper bag in front of Mr Ambrosius’s face.

Mr Ambrosius’s gaze, meanwhile, had drifted back to Arthur again, followed his gaze down to the coffee mug and had smacked his hand firmly on top of it, trapping the spoon between his fingers. Without missing a beat, he turned back to his raging client.

“Try to remember,” he spoke smoothly and calmly, his lips turning into a ‘I-know-what-you’ve-been-up-to-friend’ expression while his eyes quickly darted down and back up to catch Dwight’s.

Dwight sputtered and leaned back, going nice and beet red. “My mistake,” he rasped out, tried to smile and rushed right out the door.

Arthur couldn’t help it. He chuckled.

“There you go!” another shop employee—Gwen, Arthur remembered—said with a bright smile as she handed him his own little paper bag.

“Thank you.” He couldn’t help but return her cheerful smile. “Strange town,” he continued as he was leaving, not quite under his breath. “I have never spent this much on shampoo before”—he took extra care to turn right back around when he reached the door and finish—“in my life!”

Arthur took measured steps down the street, counting, this time under his breath, ‘Three, two…’

“Am I under some kind of surveillance?” Merlin Ambrosius asked, catching up to him with quick steps, crossing his arms across his chest as Arthur turned around to face him.

“Should you be?” he asked mildly and watched, absolutely fascinated, as Ambrosius floundered.

“Well, if there’s something you wanna know, ask me.” The man was pouting, and Arthur, under no circumstances, was finding that, in any way whatsoever, cute.

“Ha, ha,” he went with instead, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “But I already did. And all’s I can tell you is, there appears to be something… oh, I don’t know… missing from your story.”

He watched as Ambrosius swallowed, tracked the movement with his eyes. Coughed. Continued because he was a professional, dammit. “Now, listen, I wanna talk to you more, but I gotta finish some homework here. How’s about,” he bit his lip, offered an actual genuine smile, as small as it was, “I come by your house tomorrow morning?”

Ambrosius did not return his smile, his jaw twitching instead. “Fine,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

Arthur’s smile grew. “Okay. Ten am?”

“Fine.”

“Okay.” Arthur couldn’t stop smiling for the life of him. “That’s a date.”

Ambrosius didn’t respond to that, just kept on watching him. Arthur nodded at him and walked away. Did his damn best to not look back either. And fuck, was that a challenge. But he persevered.

~x~X~x~

The winds rose up almost as soon as the sun set. Extraordinary winds they were too, absolutely out of season and completely out of left field as far as meteorologists were concerned. Anyone with any sense had made sure their doors were locked and their windows nice and shut tight before going to bed. Merlin had made sure Kara and Mordred checked each and every window in the house too before tucking them both in and smothering them in kisses till they giggled and screeched with joy at him.

Merlin had gone to bed with a smile. A smile that receded almost as soon as he climbed beneath his sheets. Deep, blue eyes haunted his mind, a half-formed smile right behind them. Merlin burrowed deeper into his covers with a grumble. He was not giving Special Investigator Arthur bloody Pendragon another moment of his time. He was sleeping. And he was not dreaming. On sheer damn principle.

While Merlin did his Attempt at Sleep all grumbly, Morgana… Completely failed at hers. She was tossing and turning as soon as her head hit the pillow, moaning in distress.

Finally, she tossed her covers aside and tumbled down the stairs, forcing the door to the veranda open and stepping outside, swaddling herself into her robe.

She surveyed the dark backyard, her gaze lingering on the rose bush that seemed to be whispering and hissing at her menacingly.

“Cenred? Is that you?” Morgana asked, her voice trembling the tiniest bit. “Cenred? Go away.” Her eyes slid across the lawn one more time before she took a hesitant step back inside the house. “Go away.” She closed the doors.

~x~

Morgana had not rested well. Thank fuck Merlin was a bit of a packrat and had kept her old-as-balls sunglasses stashed in one of the drawers of a dresser in the attic. Morgana was definitely cursing up a storm under her breath, rummaging through the utter disarray that was the pantry’s shelves.

“Okay. To banish unwanted persons, it says you need blessing seeds,” Kara said, pointing at a clipped out drawing of a plant that was glued into the middle of the recipe in the Grimoire.

“All right,” Morgana nodded, absentminded, and turned back towards the shelves. “Good. Where are they?”

Mordred was leaning half-way out the door, being a Lookout.

“What about nigella seeds?” Morgana asked, jiggling a little jar about.

“It’s the same thing,” Kara affirmed excitedly and continued using her mortar and pestle to grind up her own dried herbs as Morgana turned.

“Oh. Oh, wow, is it?” At Kara’s nod, Morgana smiled. “Good, good. You’re good at this.”

Kara beamed. Mordred, obviously bored at being a Lookout, wandered over to the table and watched what the girls were doing with wide-eyed wonder.

“Why can’t we tell Daddy we’re sending the policeman away?” he asked, plopping his elbows down on the table and cupping his cheeks in his hands as he continued observing.

“Because your Daddy likes to pretend that he doesn’t do magic,” Morgana explained, tossing a quick glance at her nephew. “And we have to banish this man for your Daddy’s own good.”

Mordred nodded sagely, a minor frown on his forehead.

Morgana nodded back and refocused. “Blessing seeds. Right, right.” She dropped a pinch of seeds into her own mortar. “What else do we need?” She twirled back towards the shelves. Then twirled right back. “Mordred, I told you to listen out the door for Mr Pendragon.”

Mordred huffed and went back to the lonely post of being a Lookout.

“Uh, blessing seeds, blessing seeds, right. Oh.” Morgana floundered about another shelf, huffing. “Oh, yeah, milk thistle! I can’t find anything here,” she whined quietly while continuing her rummaging quest.

“Was this Daddy’s?” Kara asked quietly, and Morgana turned around quick enough to give herself a little whiplash.

“Huh?”

There, in Kara’s hands, held with care and reverence, was a little leather journal, one that Morgana remembered vividly. She had, after all, been the one to bind it for Merlin in the first place.

“Oh, wow,” she muttered, a small smile blooming on her face as she reached for it. “Yeah… Where did you get that?”

The journal was flipped open to a page filled with a barely-teen Merlin’s scrawl, a few dried petals resting right there on the pages. Morgana drew a finger carefully down the lines as she read.

“He’ll hear my call a mile away… He can flip pancakes in the air… his eyes will be blue like the summer’s skies, they’ll be the bluest in aaaaaaall the land,” Morgana read and chuckled at all the ‘aaaaaas’, painstakingly written out on the page.

“Who’s this about?” asked Kara, curiosity shining in her eyes.

Morgana floundered. It was clear this wasn’t about their mother after all. “Um…” she started, wincing internally at the great start. “Well…”

Kara frowned. “The truth, please.”

“The truth, please!” Mordred echoed, popping his head back into the pantry.

Morgana swallowed, huffed a little breath and sat down. “Well, the truth is, this was when your Daddy was little, and he was trying to invent a guy who didn’t exist.” She blew out a breath. “To protect himself. It was kinda crazy.” She shook her head, standing back up and going back to grinding her herbs into powder. When only silence met her little story however, she stopped and raised her head, giving both her niece and nephew a good long look. “But, you know. He loved your Mommy. He loved her very, very much.”

Mordred hummed, appeased, and went back to his duties as Lookout. Kara beamed at Morgana.

“I can’t wait to fall in love,” she sighed happily, and Morgana’s hand paused at her pestle.

“Kara.” She pushed her sunglasses down her nose a little, leaned over to her niece. “Kara, listen to me. Do you, um…” She bit her lip and motioned with her hand. “Do you ever put your arms out and spin and spin and spin really fast?”

”She does it all the time,” Mordred piped in, turning right back again.

“She does?” Morgana smiled, “Well, that’s what love is like. It makes your heart race. It turns the world upside-down.” She swallowed, felt her smile tremble but kept going, wishing, suddenly, desperately, to keep this little girl in front of her shielded, protected from the big bad world. Like her brother had tried to protect her. “But if you’re not careful… if you don’t keep your eyes on something still… You can lose your balance, you know?”

Kara nodded, serious while Mordred just stared, unblinking and focused.

“You can’t see what’s happening to the people around you,” Morgana continued quietly. “You, um… You can’t see that you’re about to fall.”

Kara stayed quiet for a moment more before reaching over and brushing a strand of hair out of Morgana’s eyes. “Don’t be sad, Auntie Gana. I won’t let you fall down.”

“Aw,” Morgana felt choked up, felt like she could’ve smothered the little angel before her in smooches… and then the doorbell rang.

“He’s here! He’s here! He’s here!” Mordred screeched, running all three steps of distance there was from the door to the table, jumping in place in his excitement.

“Shh!” Kara and Morgana shushed him in unison before Morgana motioned him out.

“Go go go! Make sure you tell him about breakfast.”

Mordred went.

He rushed through the parlor, grabbed the handle to the front door and yanked it open. The door had been locked, but Mordred was Excited. It happened. He figured, no one saw so he was okay.

There, leaning casually against the frame, was a tall, blond man, his blue eyes focusing immediately on Mordred. Mordred figured…

“You came for breakfast! We’re having pancakes,” he made sure to mention, remembering Auntie Gana’s words.

The man blinked down at him, a smile spreading across his lips as he chuckled. “No, actually, I just came to talk to your Dad.”

Mordred beamed. “Great, he’s having pancakes too. Come in, come in.” And with that, he grabbed the pretty, shiny man’s hand and pulled him inside, going straight for the kitchen. The front door closed quietly behind them.

“Do you have a gun?” Mordred asked, stopping in the middle of the parlor and giving the man a Look.

“Mm-hm.” He got an answer, the man still smiling.

“Can I see it?” Mordred chanced, but sighed in disappointment almost immediately hearing the quiet steps on the stairs.

The man’s eyes snapped to the stairs as well and, as he noticed Merlin walking down slowly, his arms crossed across his chest, turned back to Mordred, “Mm-mm.”

“Figured,” Mordred huffed, turning to his Dad. “He’s here for breakfast.” And he was off, running back to the pantry.

“I have a question or two,” Special Investigator Arthur Pendragon said quietly, his smile wavering just a bit as he looked up to Merlin. Merlin sighed under his breath.

“He’s gonna stay!” Mordred screeched, running through the door and almost bawling Morgana over in his haste.

“Oh, good. Good. Good work, darling. But shhh,” she hushed him, and Mordred grinned sheepishly. “Now, go back out there and…” Morgana waved her hand around, “and keep them away from here.”

Mordred went.

~x~

Chapter Text

~x~

Arthur walked into the greenhouse slowly, his feet carrying him to one of two long tables that sat taking up most of the large space. There was a small glass vial on it with familiar looking red grains inside. Arthur picked it up. Just to confirm —

“Belladonna,” came quietly from behind him. “It’s a sedative. People put it in their tea to relax, calm their nerves.”

Arthur turned to face Ambrosius, putting the vial back down perhaps a touch too roughly. “Some people also use it as a poison.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, swayed in place just a little, forcing himself to stay still and not get any closer to the other man.

“Which people?” Ambrosius asked, and Arthur’s lips twitched.

“Witch people.”

“Aha,” Ambrosius nodded, in a light-bulb-moment kind of voice.

Arthur nodded right back. “Witches.”

“Witches,” Ambrosius echoed him, a smile stretching across his lips.

“Mm-hm,” Arthur returned the smile. It was easier than expected, somehow. Seemed to come right out as soon as Ambrosius’s did.

“I guess you found me out, huh?” His smile widened and he stepped closer to Arthur, arms crossed across his chest. “Yeah…”

“Guess I did,” Arthur didn’t move, couldn’t move. Damn, but Ambrosius had eyes so damn blue… not like Arthur’s own either, no. Arthur was sky, he’d been told. Ambrosius though… he was all deep, dark sea, that was pulling, pulling Arthur right in.

“Mm-hm,” Ambrosius hummed, closer now, far too close.

“Mm-hm,” Arthur was the one to echo now.

“You should come here on Halloween.” Ambrosius was still smiling as he spoke. “You’d really see something then.”

“Oh, yeah?” Arthur asked, but a wariness was beginning to tug at him. There was something in the way Ambrosius was looking at him.

“Yeah, we all jump off the roof and fly.” The smile was gone now. “We kill our spouses too.” Arthur was finding it hard to breathe, all of a sudden. “Or is that outside your jurisdiction?” Ambrosius inquired, his voice turned cold. He had stepped around Arthur now, forcing him to turn to follow.

“Do you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me?” Arthur started, giving a full body shrug as he turned. “I got people telling me you’re up here cooking up placenta bars.” He swallowed. “That you’re into devil worship…”

Ambrosius was shaking his head before Arthur could finish. “No. No, there’s no devil in the Craft.”

“So, what kind of craft… do you do?” Arthur asked, leaning in a little. Just a little though. He did have self-control, and fuck the fact that Ambrosius felt like a bloody magnet or something, the pull towards the man damn near impossible to resist.

“Do I do?” Ambrosius asked over him, leaning in a bit too. Arthur cheered internally - at least he wasn’t alone in the whole Weird Magnetism Thing.

“Mm,” he hummed in reply and question together.

Ambrosius’s lips twitched back into a smile again. “I manufacture bath oils. And soaps and hand lotions,” — he bit his lip, his eyes sparkling with amusement — “and shampoo.”

“Mm-hm,” Arthur hummed again, unwilling to interrupt.

“And Aunt and Uncle, um…” he sighed, “they like to meddle in peoples’ love lives.”

Arthur looked into his eyes, forced himself not to flinch – there was something raw there, something very, very painful in the look Ambrosius had in his eyes after saying that. He wasn’t quite sure if he had it in him to touch it, not yet, at least. While Arthur observed, Ambrosius continued.

“Magic isn’t just spells and potions.” He made a slight motion with his chin towards Arthur’s breast pocket. “Your badge?”

Arthur blinked, didn’t so much as think about protesting when Ambrosius reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled the badge out with gentle fingers.

He ran a thumb over it. “It’s just a star.” He flipped it over and showed it to Arthur, keeping their gazes locked. “Just another symbol. Your talisman.” He smiled, let out a soft snort. “It can’t stop criminals in their tracks… can it?” He shook his head, handed the badge back to Arthur, who’d been listening intently. “It has power because you believe it does.”

Arthur couldn’t help it, he looked down at the badge, at his badge, one he had chosen, one he had worn day in and day out for years. One he had never, ever let anyone touch. He ran a thumb over it thoughtfully, and stuffed it back into his inner pocket, his eyes flitting back up to find Ambrosius’s still on his.

“Wish you could believe in me,” Ambrosius finished softly, turned around and started out of the greenhouse, apparently having decided that the conversation was done.

“Mr Ambrosius,” Arthur called, and he stopped mid-step onto a stair. Turned to glance over his shoulder.

“Mm?”

“Are you hiding Cenred King?” He watched intently as Ambrosius shook his head.

“Not in this house” was the reply he offered, smile sliding off his face once again.

Arthur stepped closer, leaned over a little too, after taking a step onto the stairs leading into the kitchen proper as well. “Did you or your sister kill Cenred King?”

Ambrosius blinked. “Oh, yeah. Couple of times.”

And with that nonsensical answer, he turned on his heel and went, leaving a baffled Arthur to catch up.

~x~X~x~

Mordred was having The Best Time Ever as he, very extremely competently, thank you very much, baked the breakfast pancakes. Sure, the milk had spilled, a tiniest little bit all over the counter. And sure there was more flour on him than in the bowl he had been using, but… hey, someone had to make the darn breakfast and he was the only one in the kitchen so, really, it wasn’t his fault, now was it.

“Mordred, could you make more of a mess?”

Mordred winced just a smidge—there was something more exhausted than amused in his Daddy’s voice. Still.

“Daaaaddy, I’m cooking,” he felt obligated to inform him and beamed when his Daddy ran his fingers warmly through Mordred’s dark locks. Which too, if a snorting shake of his Daddy’s fingers was to be believed, had fallen victim to the Flour.

“I can see that,” his Daddy chuckled, standing at his side and watching him in fond amusement. He turned to grab a little towel to clean Mordred off a little, most likely, but Mordred was too busy preening over his kitchen prowess to notice. He preened so hard he almost toppled right off his stool.

He oomphed, began flailing and… was immediately caught and righted by the policeman Auntie Gana wanted to send away. Mordred blinked up at him and grinned in thanks.

“Hey there. Did you ever see a saguaro cactus?” the policeman asked. Mordred shook his head excitedly. “No?” the policeman made sure, and when Mordred shook his head again, the policeman moved right over, hip-checking his Daddy. “Step aside, you,” he muttered softly, removed his jacket and focused right back on Mordred. “Well, you’re about to.”

Mordred was almost vibrating from Excitement.

He noticed, half-absentmindedly, that his Daddy had moved on to the cupboards, getting plates and cutlery and things, clearly about to set the table.

He heard, too, that Daddy was humming, just softly, under his breath ‘lay me down, underneath where wild rose would bloom. Lay me down, lay me down to rest’. It was Daddy’s Song. Mordred closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the sound—Daddy hadn’t sung it for them in a long while and—

“Lay me down, so I can rest, my weary head. Underneath a wild rose, lay me down, lay me down.”

Mordred’s eyes snapped open and he gaped, watching wide eyed how the policeman, who was humming his Daddy’s song, made a quick motion with his wrist and a pancake flew up into the air, flipped and flopped right back into the middle of the pan. The pancake was shaped like a cactus too.

“Wow,” Mordred murmured, forgetting about the humming immediately, eyes still wide before he jumped off his stool and ran.

Auntie Gana, when Mordred slammed back into the pantry, was shaking a dark bottle vigorously before pouring a thick liquid into a syrup pitcher and muttering under her breath, “One stack of flapjacks and goodbye, Mr Pendragon…”

Mordred could not pay any mind to her right then however, rushing straight to his sister and grabbing her hand. “He knows how to flip pancakes!”

Kara’s eyes widened and she grabbed Mordred’s hand right back, dropping whatever it was she was holding and rushing right back out and into the kitchen.

Mordred showed off the policem— Mr Pendragon’s pancake flipping skills to Kara as if it were him that was doing the flipping. When the pile of pancakes was beginning to resemble a mountain instead of a pile, however, Daddy intervened, sending Mordred and Kara outside to set the table on the terrace. Still excited over the flying cacti pancakes, they went.

~x~X~x~

Outside it was pure, undiluted chaos as both children rushed about the table, lifting and putting down plates; Merlin following after them with a giant tea pot and Arthur following him with an even more giant mountain of pancakes.

Arthur looked like he was getting dizzy as he did his best to not trip over any Ambrosius and get both himself and the pancakes to the table in one piece.

When Mordred zoomed around him for the third time, Arthur’s lips twitched.

“I assume you don’t want the pancakes,” he said trying for stern, but, judging by Merlin’s raised eyebrow, failing rather spectacularly.

“No, we want them!” Kara exclaimed waving Mordred over and straight up pulling him out of the way when instead of going towards her, her brother bounced straight for Arthur.

“We want them, we want them!” he chanted, bouncing even as he sat down on the chair Kara guided him onto.

“Be careful,” Merlin hummed absentmindedly as he placed the tea pot on the table and turned to go back inside for something else, “They tend to use those as Frisbees.”

Arthur bit his lip, looking like he was doing his best to swallow a snort and went on to serve the kids.

“Can you ride a pony backwards?” Kara asked as nonchalantly as someone her age could manage.

“Backwards, forwards, sideways, you name it,” Arthur answered distractedly, his whole focus on plating the pancakes into actual plates.

Modred, meanwhile, leaned right over to the chair Arthur had draped his jacked over and fished out his badge. His jaw dropped open when he saw the shining star right on top.

“Okay, first troll,” Merlin announced loudly upon his return, and stuck a large napkin under Mordred’s chin.

“Look!” Mordred whispered and waved the badge at Kara in what, in his mind, was a surreptitious manner.

“A star!” Kara gasped, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“That is not yours,” Merlin sighed, taking the badge and shoving it right back into the correct pocket of Arthur’s jacket.

“Oh, that’s alright,” Arthur tried to wave him off with a smile, but Merlin just clicked his tongue and moved on to Kara.

“Second troll,” Merlin stuck a napkin under Kara’s chin as well.

Arthur had finished divvying up the pancakes and moved on to his chair in between the kids just as Merlin turned.

“And if you’re anything like them…” Merlin spoke softly, his eyes on Arthur’s, “Here. It’ll keep you clean.” And he fixed a napkin under Arthur’s chin too, his fingers lingering jut a breath too long.

Arthur swallowed, Merlin’s fingers feeling coal-hot against the hollow of his throat.

“I…” he began, quietly, “Thank—”

“Well. Isn’t this cozy, huh?” Morgana, walking down the steps from the house smiling and carrying another carafe in her hand interrupted him. Whether intentional or not, she now held Merlin’s complete attention, leaving Arthur bereft and alone by the table, while Merlin rushed to pull out a chair for his sister.

“Ain’t it just,” Merlin agreed with her, giving her half a smile before plopping down to sit and take one last look over his kids to make sure the damage-to-come would be as contained as possible.

“Hi, Arthur,” Morgana’s smile was blinding.

“Hi,” Arthur nodded back politely, his gaze passing over her in greeting and then straying to Merlin and the pot of tea Merlin was lifting.

“I can call you Arthur, can’t I?” Morgana tried again, sliding her sunglasses a bit lower down her nose with one dainty finger, flashing her eyes and her smile at him again.

“Heh. Why not?” Arthur shrugged distractedly and motioned for Merlin to hand over the pot. “Let me. Tea?”

Merlin, having handed over the pot without so much as a blink, just nodded, murmuring his thanks as Arthur poured him a cup before filling up Morgana’s and then his own.

Having put down the pot, Arthur raised a glass carafe filled with orange juice and turned his head to face Kara, then Mordred.

“Drinks, my fair lady, my good sir?”

Kara nodded giggling, and then nodded again for Mordred, who was once again staring wide-eyed at the star on Arthur’s badge that Arthur had passed him over all covert-like before he sat down.

“You must try some of my syrup,” Morgana piped up again, holding out the carafe towards Arthur.

Arthur hummed in the affirmative and finished pouring juice for Mordred, ruffling his hair playfully as he did. Mordred giggled, and Arthur grinned.

“Here’s the syrup. Here.” Morgana’s smile was turning wooden.

“Yes, please,” Arthur reached for it, more out of politeness than actual wish to try it. For some reason, he had a feeling he shouldn’t really be…

“No, no!

“No, no, no!”

Arthur blinked when a duo of screeches rose up before Kara and Mordred were both jumping to their feet, Kara grabbing the carafe of syrup and then off they both were, running down the lawn and towards the cliff that went straight down and into the ocean, screeching their heads off as they went.

“Uh…” Merlin gaped, seemingly speechless, as he watched his kids run off.

“What the…” was Arthur’s equally intelligent response.

“Hah. Excuse—” Morgana’s smile went brittle as she stood up and rushed after her niece and nephew.

Kara ran first, Mordred following her as fast as he could, encouraging her all the way. Morgana stumbled after them, cursing up a storm and trying to gather her long skirts into her hands as she went.

Merlin was chuckling as he stood and followed at a much slower pace, Arthur at his side. They both watched in bewildered amusement as the kids reached the cliff side and, amongst the very loud cheering from Mordred, Kara tossed the entire carafe down into the waves.

“Well, I guess they didn’t wanna eat that,” Merlin snorted and, lowering his voice, added, “Not that I can blame them. Morgana, bless her heart, is an awful cook on the best of days.”

“Guess they saved all our stomachs then,” Arthur laughed, looking a bit relieved.

He was about to suggest they all get back to the table when a booming croak rang out so loud both Arthur and Merlin’s attention snapped towards it immediately.

There, in the middle of the lawn, on a large piece of an old, fallen tree, a toad sat. Sat and croaked. It was loud and slow and sounded… wrong.

Arthur frowned. Glanced over at Merlin, who was also frowning and opened his mouth to ask but then Merlin was moving and Arthur was following.

Morgana was coming over too, her movements telegraphing peevishness and hesitation. She took her sunglasses off with slightly trembling fingers, Arthur noticed, before leaning over the toad together with them.

The toad croaked once more, heaved and… spat out a thick, gleaming, silver band.

Arthur blinked.

Merlin blinked.

Morgana… swallowed. “Oh, wow.” She breathed, sounding not much better than the toad. Swallowing again, she continued, “I’ve been looking for this. Um…”

Arthur whipped out a kerchief, leaned over and took the ring, a second before Morgana’s fingers could touch it.

“It’s your ring, is it?” Arthur asked, his voice dry and carefully steady.

“Yeah,” Morgana smiled weakly, “could I have it back?”

Arthur looked at her, saying nothing. He half turned, looked Merlin right in the eyes, held his gaze. “What do you two think you’re playing at?” he asked quietly, and Merlin’s eyes dropped to his feet.

“What do you mean?” Morgana started, obviously gearing up for more words. Arthur was having none of that.

“You better get yourselves a damn good lawyer.” He was still looking at Merlin. Merlin was still looking at the ground. “And don’t even think about leaving town.”

Arthur started off, walking determinedly across the lawn and towards the other side of the house where he had left his car.

Just before turning the corner, he turned around and called out, “What was in that syrup?”

He didn’t wait for a response, just turned back around and was gone a second later; which was why he missed Merlin’s eyes snapping back up and pinning Morgana in place with his gaze.

~x~

“We just stick to our stories,” Morgana rambled, flying into the kitchen and tossing all the cacti pancakes out into the trash. “You know, no body, no crime. It’s…” She flailed.

Merlin followed her in, stone-faced and stoic and silent.

He went to the sink, putting plates in, outward movements steady, but boy was he seething inside. Deep breathing was the only thing that kept him from straight up screaming at his sister.

Morgana whooshed past him, knocking over a bowl of fruits from the counter on her way. The bowl crashed to the floor, shattering to pieces, apples and pears and bananas flying every which way.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Morgana fluttered to the floor amidst the shards and fruit, beginning to pick up the pieces. “I’m feeling like shit,” she whined.“I’m not sleeping. I just…”

Merlin felt himself snap. “I, me, mine. Good Goddess, Morgana, that’s all you can think about isn’t it. You. Hm? It’s all about you. ” He let the last of the plates clatter into the sink, went to his knees and began to gather up the shattered pieces and fruit into a dish towel.

Morgana gaped a little before tossing everything she had gathered up back down loudly. “I don’t want to fight,” she muttered, getting to her feet and starting off towards the stairs.

“Don’t you walk away from me,” Merlin growled, little golden sparks jumping off his fingers and causing a slight draft to blow all the pieces of the shattered vase into the dish towel. Merlin didn’t notice. “I’m so sick and tired of cleaning up your messes.”

That made Morgana stop mid-step onto a stair.

“Yeah,” she breathed, turning around to face her brother. “Yeah, you’re right.” She tossed her hands up, letting out a slightly hysterical laugh. “You’re always right, Merlin. Oh, I’m just a mess. Just one big mess!” She stepped down the stairs and came back into the kitchen, stopping right in front of Merlin. “Well, at least I’ve lived my life.” She took a deep shuddering breath and held Merlins’ gaze as she finished.“And you hate me for that because it scares the hell out of you.”

Merlin scoffed, shaking his head disbelievingly. “I don’t hate you, Morgana.”

Morgana scoffed right back. “Look at you. You spend all your energy trying to fit in, be normal. But you’ll never fit in, Merls.”

Merlin’s eyebrow twitched. An apple that had rolled under the table rolled out and jumped into the dish towel.

“Because we’re different, and so are your little ones.”

Merlin twirled around and the glare he threw at her made her flinch.

“You leave them out of this, you hear me?” Merlin growled, and Morgana swallowed. But she was Morgana and backing down wasn’t exactly a thing that she did.

“All my life,” she started, more quiet, more subdued, “All my life I have wished I had even half your talent.” She swallowed, fire sparking back in her eyes. “You’re wasting yourself, Merls!”

There was a breath of frozen silence before Merlin inhaled and, very collectedly, spoke. “I want you out of here. I want you gone.”

Morgana looked like he’d slapped her. She swallowed, crossed her trembling arms across her chest and nodded. “Okay. Fine. I’m gone.”

Merlin’s expression did not falter. “Good.” He returned her nod, a bit haltingly, but when he turned on a heel it was with determination in each step.

“What? What are you doing?” Morgana asked bewildered, watching as Merlin went to the chair he had his light jacket tossed onto and shrugged into it. “Where are you going?” There were notes of hysteria, rising in her voice now. Morgana knew her brother, after all. There had been times where she would have said, with certainty, that she knew him better than he knew himself.

“I’m doing the right thing,” Merlin said and fished out his keys from the bowl.

“No. No, no!” Morgana shook her head as she stepped in Merlin’s way. “You are not going to tell him what happened.”

Merlin’s chuckle sounded… not quite right as it came out. “You know what’s funny? The moment he walked in, that’s absolutely fucking all I wanted to do.” Merlin started towards the door, but Morgana intercepted him, bodily grabbing his arms and forcing him still.

“What are you going to do, huh? Get down on your knees and beg for mercy? You think he’s going to be as easy as all of these small town hicks? You’re truly willing to risk your kids on the off chance you’re as good on your knees as you thi—“

Merlin didn’t let her finish. He tore his arms from her grip and moved to the door. Right before his hand reached the handle he paused and turned to face her over his shoulder. “You want me to be true to myself, hm? Then watch this.” He slammed the door behind him so hard, the glass shattered and fell right out. Merlin did not stop. He did not turn back. He just ran.

Morgana, left in the now quiet, but broken-glass filled kitchen, hissed and doubled over in pain.

“Merls…” she whimpered quietly, reaching for the table to steady herself as her vision went dark.

~x~

Merlin started running as soon as he stepped foot outside and he did not stop until he reached the town. Hell, he didn’t stop until Arthur’s, no, Special Investigator Pendragon’s, broad back was in his sight.

The investigator was striding down the main street with purpose, muttering under his breath.

“…goddamn Twilight Zone.”

Merlin heard and didn’t wait to be closer, just opened his mouth and… “It was Cenred’s ring.”

“Oh, really? You don’t say,” the investigator scoffed over his shoulder, never slowing his pace and shaking his head in disappointment as he continued to walk.

“I know you knew that, but I needed to tell you,” Merlin sped up again, trying to catch up to not have to shout half-way across the street.

“Well, I was serious back there. You best get yourself a lawyer before you talk to me.”

That was when he stopped, turned around and looked Merlin right in the eye.

“I don’t want a lawyer,” Merlin said quietly, but there was a firm set to his jaw.

The investigator stayed silent for a moment longer than Merlin’s frayed nerves would have liked, but finally he nodded, and answered just as quietly, “All right. Come on in.” And he pushed open the gate they had stopped besides. Merlin blinked, made an ‘oh’ expression and entered first.

The investigator unlocked the door, his own expression turning sheepish. “Excuse the mess. Uh… I wasn’t expecting company.” He immediately started trying to pick up, grabbing this and that from the messy bed, attempting to surreptitiously hide the dirty socks under the bed while at the same time gathering up a suit jacket that hung carelessly tossed over a chair.

“You can have yourself a seat.”

Merlin kept standing.

“Uh, let’s see what I’ll need here,” the investigator muttered reaching for a tape recorder, his pad and a pen.

The bed was littered with black and white pictures that Merlin’s gaze locked on and he stepped closer to take a look. They were clearly crime scene photos and as soon as the investigator saw what he was looking at he winced.

“Oh, here,” he reached and gently took the photo Merlin had picked up from him. “You don’t need to look at that stuff.” He tossed it down onto the bed and gathered it up with the rest of the pictures and… Merlin didn’t really pay any more mind to what it was the investigator was doing, his gaze locked onto a battered and grayed envelope that lay underneath all the clutter. Merlin picked it up, noticing absentmindedly how it made the other man freeze up. He opened up the envelope, pulled out the letter and turned it over in his hands. The paper looked… worn. It was creased and had been folded and refolded too many times to count.

“How many times did you read my letter?” he asked quietly and watched the investigator swallow.

“A few. I have to study all the evidence.”

Merlin just looked at him.

“Okay,” the investigator cleared his throat, “You wanna sit down?” He raised up the recorder, clicked it on. “This is the testimony of Merlin Ambrosius, March 8th, 1998.”

Merlin kept looking at him. Eventually, the investigator realized he’d have to be the first one to move and did so, sitting down on a chair at a small table by the window. He motioned at the chair in front of him and cleared his throat again. “You gonna sit down?”

Merlin sat, his eyes trained on the man before him, the letter still clutched tight in his hands.

“Where is Cenred King?” The question came immediately.

Merlin sighed. “I think he’s beyond the Veil.”

The investigator blinked, moved closer, his elbows resting on the table. “You think he’s dead?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, I think he’s haunting us.” Before the investigator could ask anything else, Merlin straightened out the letter and held it between them. “What evidence did you get from reading my letter?”

The investigator kept his eyes fixed on Merlin as he leaned in over the tiny table between them. “Did you or your sister kill Cenred King?”

Merlin kept their eyes locked for a moment longer before looking back down to the letter and folding it up. “Morgana didn’t kill anybody.”

“Morgana didn’t,” the investigator repeated softly, and Merlin shook his head. “Morgana didn’t, but you did? Huh?”

Merlin raised his head. Looked back at the — at Arthur. Arthur, who was asking again, voice going even softer. “Did you?”

Merlin swallowed.

“Merlin, did you?”

It came as barely a whisper, the words painted in shades of desperation so thinly veiled Merlin was helpless. He rose to his feet jerkily, moved away a step, then another before turning around to face Arthur again. “What if I told you I did? What would you do?” He watched Arthur’s eyes follow his every move, however small and insignificant. “What, would you send me to jail for the rest of my life all because…” Merlin snorted, ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “…the world was short a man like Cenred King?”

“It’s not for you or me to decide how he should be punished,” Arthur said. He stood up slowly and came to Merlin, close, closer than strictly necessary. Closer than was professional. “He has to be held accountable.”

“Well, he has been punished,” Merlin muttered, nodding slowly as he did.

Arthur leaned in even closer, looking Merlin right in the eye. “He has?” he asked quietly, barely above a whisper. When Merlin stayed silent, he sighed and turned back towards the table. Grabbing the recorder, he clicked it off before tossing it back onto the table and turning back to Merlin.

“You really should get a lawyer’s advice before we go any further.”

Merlin didn’t so much as twitch as he stood there watching Arthur speak, his hands crossed across his chest.

Arthur continued, taking a slow, measured step closer. “Now listen. I know you’re in some kind of trouble. All right?”

There were inches between them now. Merlin stayed quiet.

“If you will trust me, tell me what you know…” Arthur’s voice was soft like velvet, his eyes hot like coals where they bore into Merlin’s, “…I promise you…” The inches between them disappeared as Arthur took one last step. “…I will do everything I can to keep you from harm’s way.”

Merlin opened his mouth to answer, to ask something maybe, but then they were kissing, Merlin’s back slamming into the wall, his arms around Arthur’s neck as they kissed and kissed and kissed. Arthur’s hands were everywhere, touching and stroking and searching for skin.

Merlin could feel his magic, wild and begging to be let free. He tamped it down. Well, he tried.

But zippers slid open before there were fingers low enough to touch them. Buttons popped, open and off, a few flying every which way.

Arthur’s thigh was between his, and it was sudden and it was not, and Merlin moaned; his mouth opening for the exploration of Arthur’s tongue.

“Merlin,” Arthur groaned, and Merlin shuddered, ran his fingers through silky strands of corn-gold hair and wrapped a leg around Arthur’s waist, pulling him even closer.

“I—” Merlin gasped, grinding down, swallowing the sound Arthur made. “Need you—”

Merlin moaned, losing his train of thought when Arthur thrust forwards, moving him up the wall. “Fuck— in me,” Merlin managed to finish somehow, ignoring the warning bells going off in his mind. This was insane— it felt right though— he didn’t know this man— he felt like he knew him in his bones.

“I,” Arthur was peppering kisses over Merlin’s jaw, down his neck, and then back up the other side. “Merlin, I—”

Merlin reached with one hand and dragged one of Arthur’s hands to his mouth, licked over his middle finger and then drew it into his mouth.

Arthur choked on a breath, froze in place, his pupils all black as he watched, mesmerized, as his finger disappeared and then reappeared from between Merlin’s plush lips. He pulled out one and offered back up two and Merlin took them, groaned at his mouth-full and swirled his tongue around and in between Arthur’s fingers.

He knew there was gold sparking in his eyes, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he just…

Merlin blinked, eyes hazy, and Arthur’s shirt was gone, his trousers open wide and slid low on his hips. He blinked again, panted and swallowed, pulled with the leg still around Arthur’s waist and flesh met flesh.

Merlin felt a lazy grin spread his already wide-spread lips. He gave the fingers in his mouth one last long suck and then pulled away. Just far enough to release the digits.

“In me. Now,” he whispered, leaning in to claim Arthur’s lips again. Arthur nodded into the kiss, reached down with his soaking fingers, fingers that felt far slicker and wetter than they should’ve been from merely being covered in saliva and—

Merlin sucked on Arthur’s tongue, and Arthur forgot the strange slickness, only caring about the hotness of Merlin’s mouth and how easy he accepted Arthur’s fingers into himself. How easily he opened up. All hot and slick and so, so tight.

Merlin shuddered out a breath, hitched his leg up higher. Their cocks rubbed together, and when Merlin snuck a hand between them to wrap his fingers around them both together, Arthur hissed; flexed his fingers, buried them as deep as they could go and pulled away just far enough to watch Merlin shatter right in front of him.

It was getting harder and harder to think, it seemed. The air around them shimmered, almost vibrated with golden sparks.

Merlin whined into Arthur’s lips, mouthed down his neck, licked across his collarbone. Arthur twitched over him, huffed out a near-hysterical little laugh and pulled his fingers out, slid his wet hand under Merlin’s thigh and hitched it even higher round his waist.

He blinked into Merlin’s eyes, and Merlin nodded, ready, so ready.

Arthur pushed in. Gold rained around them as Merlin shook.

“Art—” he gasped out, Arthur’s name feeling like the only language he knew how to speak, “Art, Art, Art—”

Arthur groaned into his ear, pushed in and in and in, wrapped his arms around Merlin and just held on. They were caught in the maelstrom of their passion, of insurmountable, unquenchable desire for each other and in that moment, neither of them cared. Not about the whys and the hows. They didn’t care about Cenred, about Morgana, about anything else but one another’s skin.

“Fuck,” Arthur gasped, gaping at the stars shining out of Merlin’s eyes, and Merlin slammed them shut, trembling, desperate for control, trying to contain his magic.

But Arthur moved then, his movements accurate, too fucking accurate. Merlin yelped, Arthur grinned, their pace increased.

His orgasm hit Merlin like a truck. Had he any thought-capability left, he’d have had a dizzy thought about blacking out there for a second.

He came to on the floor, collapsed all over Arthur’s lap.

“Hng,” he tried, coherently.

Arthur grunted what sounded like agreement. Honestly, it was enough. Merlin snuggled into the arms wrapped firmly around him and felt whole for the first time since Freya.

He stiffened. Freya. His lovely, wonderful wife. The only person he’d ever— Merlin scrambled to his feet, Arthur’s gaze sharpening from his post-orgasmic daze as he followed Merlin with his eyes.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” Merlin muttered under his breath, gathering his clothes into his arms.

Arthur sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t either.” He shook his head, genuine regret painting over his features. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin just shook his head, going quiet as he pulled his clothes on. He wouldn’t look at Arthur, looking mortified. His hands were shaking, Arthur noted, with numbing kind of certainty that if he let Merlin leave, if he let him go… He’d lose him. Lose whatever it was that could have been between them.

“Merlin…” he tried, quietly, mournfully, feeling completely out of his depth.

“…blue… so damn blue, like summer skies…”

Arthur heard Merlin mumble, and his eyebrow rose.

“Mer—”

“Your eyes,” Merlin was looking at him now. “They’re blue like summer skies. Such a specific blue, wouldn’t you say.”

Arthur didn’t think it was a question.

There was a wild look in Merlin’s eyes. “I have to go.”

In a moment between two heartbeats, he was gone, leaving Arthur feeling unmoored and so, so damn confused.

“I was born with them,” he finally told his empty motel room before he made it to his feet and leaned down to grab his pants.

~x~