.

I'm Looking Through You

Part 1

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He remembered lying on his back, or at least he remembered that he had been looking upwards. Light shone through the dark silhouettes of the trees; the sun was moving curiously fast across the sky, like the world was a giant, turning wheel.

Time passed. The strangeness of this new place concerned him, but oddly he did not feel fear. Indeed, he discovered he could not feel fear, even when he tried.

Why would you try? he asked himself.

Just as it seemed that he was forgetting he'd ever been anywhere else other than this place, things changed. A patch of light opened above him. He was unsure when the light had even gone away, but now it was there once more, meeting the surrounding darkness with shimmering and shifting edges. As his body rose towards it, it became a circle of sky, bright blue at first, then darkening and filled with stars.

A voice. Warm, comforting, but slightly sad - a young woman's voice. He had an intuition of dark hair.

Be kind to him. He is hurting.

Who? Who is hurting?

But some part of him already knew.

-x-

The most selfless thing Arthur, High King of all the Britons, had ever seen anyone do was when Merlin told him he didn't have to be a slave to destiny.

-x-

Arthur was not impressed with this hideous future world. Nothing was like he expected, everything around him seemingly nothing but falsehoods and tricks, and all apparently meant to be humiliating. People didn't fight with swords or follow Kings, Merlin had a marvellous scrying box but nothing on it could be trusted, his supposed subjects were soft and vapid and - according to Merlin - would take him for mad if he went around asserting his rightful place as their ruler.

And there was so much to learn! A whole new language, a good part of which involved words that had no counterpart in his own tongue. Weapons. History. Geography - a whole New World had been discovered! Manners. Machines, so many damned machines! The world was overrun by these gadgets and contraptions! It was never-ending and Arthur found himself constantly frustrated to the point of rage.

Gods, even the land he thought he knew betrayed him! Merlin assured him this was home, but Arthur grew disorientated every time he went out to scout the area, the hills and streams close enough to what he remembered to fool him, but different enough to get him lost. And the food…he still shuddered to think how sick they had all been those first days after their awakening. Merlin had fretted and thrown around words Arthur could only assume were magic, such as 'artificial selection' and 'bacteria' and 'additives', but it didn't help. That livestock now involved entirely different breeds from the ones he knew, Arthur could just barely understand, but the grass those same cows ate? How could grass be different? And vegetables? How did one 'breed' a cabbage? Yet Arthur had to admit they didn't look like anything he remembered. Then there was the story Merlin tried to feed them about creatures living in the water they drank, creatures so tiny they couldn't possibly be seen by the naked eye, and that, for some reason, the fact that they were vastly different from the tiny, unseen creatures supposedly living in the water during their days at Camelot could make them ill. Quite frankly, he found the whole idea nonsensical, and would have told Merlin so if only he hadn't been hunched over Merlin's fancy flushing chamber pot sicking up his innards. (Merlin had been kind, rubbing the small of his back and holding a cold compress to his forehead, but Arthur couldn't get over the shameful spectacle he'd made of himself and had been irritable for days.)

And then there was Merlin himself.

Arthur could barely bring himself to admit it, but Merlin had always been his anchor. His relationships with his father, his sister, and even Gwen, had been complicated and quite often volatile, but Merlin had always been the same.

Or so he'd thought. Finding out Merlin had been a sorcerer all along had been a blow, but he'd hardly had time to come to grips with it before he'd died. Now, however, there was so much more to deal with. Merlin had magic. Merlin had saved his life again and again. Merlin was the most powerful sorcerer on Earth, yet he had willingly lowered himself to serve his King.

Him. Merlin had willingly lowered himself to serve him. The 'Once and Future King'.

It was terrifying.

And just when he was beginning to understand how little he'd truly known Merlin then, every time he turned around he had to face that he knew Merlin even less now.

Despite being as lean and lanky as he ever was, Merlin looked more sturdy somehow. Perhaps even more imposing, though part of Arthur still scoffed at the notion. Thinking on it in bed one night, Arthur considered - a bit guiltily - that some of it might be that that half-starved look Merlin had always seemed to wear was gone.

But it was more. In some indefinable way, Merlin didn't stand in the background anymore. He wasn't always a shadow at Arthur's shoulder. Merlin stood straight, looking people in the eye. Well, not that he always hadn't, Arthur reflected, but now there was less cheek and defiance about it; now it was calm, unconscious, unquestioningly like an equal. Also, that constant frantic quality was gone. And, sadly, the exuberance. This Merlin was far more self-possessed, his steps measured and graceful, his gaze more intent, and there was no longer any bothering to hide his intelligence behind a perpetual foolish expression. It was if there was a substance, or presence, behind Merlin now, but Arthur couldn't tell if that was because the sorcerer had more hidden secrets, or if it was simply the weight of centuries of experience. For, Arthur realized, Merlin had been on his own for more years than his King could count, making his own way in the world, carving out his own place in this life, without an iota of help from them.

And suffering his own losses.

Merlin would come out with such frightening statements sometimes. Grave, matter-of-fact remarks about horrific events that they were just learning of now but were long-dead history for him, and it would strike them again and again that he'd been there. That he'd been through those awful things and had known, and even loved, the people involved. Other times, they'd stumble across him in pain for reasons they couldn't fathom. A song played in a 'movie', something about taking the high road or the low road, nothing that meant anything to them, but Arthur had walked into the kitchen to find Merlin frozen, his hands still in the dough for the bread he was making, silently weeping.*

The faraway looks, the rage and hurt when they had balked at wearing the little red flowers 'for Remembrance' that Merlin had given them one particular day in the late fall, the photographs of strangers and the medals for bravery buried away in the attic, the occasional disappearances… all hammered home the fact that this was not the boy Arthur had known. This was a man - an ancient man - with literally over a thousand years worth of experiences Arthur couldn't begin to dream of.

It was completely and utterly understandable that Merlin would have changed.

But Arthur wasn't sure he could do all of this without his Merlin.

-x-

It was when Arthur took Merlin to task over giving his King donkey ears one day (when even Arthur could later admit he was being an insufferable prat) that things came to a head.

"Oh, I see," Merlin said calmly as he lay plates on the table. "It's not enough I still have to serve you all - in my own home, no less - I'm still required to docilely remain the butt of your jokes as well, is it?"

"You know that's not what I meant," Arthur said peevishly.

"On the contrary, I believe that's exactly what you meant."

Arthur didn't know why he was so angry, but his humiliation and Merlin's placid demeanour weren't helping. "No, you damned idiot! I'm mad because you used your magic to take advantage of me. It was unfair. How am I supposed to fight back when I don't have the same power?"

"I am sorry, Arthur, truly, but it's hardly as if you never did the same thing."

"What?" Arthur demanded.

Merlin sighed. "How many times did I have to muck out the stables or sit in the stocks because you couldn't stand to lose an argument? How many times did I get cuffed on the ear or knocked down on the training field because you were in a bad mood? How many times did I go hungry because you needed your bath right then or because you and your knights thought it was fun to play 'starve the servant'? How many times did you make me act the fool, especially when you knew I couldn't retaliate, all because my humiliation amused you? And indeed, how many foolish tasks did you send me on or turn me over to abusive visitors simply because you could?" Merlin resumed his task, putting down another plate. "I wasn't a perfect servant by any means, but let's face it, Arthur, you used your power over me all the time with far less provocation than I had this afternoon."

Something in Arthur snapped. He dashed the remaining plates out of Merlin's grasp and they shattered on the floor. That Merlin didn't flinch or back away or look afraid incensed him even more. "So what is this now? Retribution? Vengeance? Are we here so you can get your own back by turning the lot of us into puppets and tormenting us with your magic?"

How it all disintegrated from there, Arthur could not later say, but before he understood what was happening they were outside, him with Excalibur drawn.

Merlin held out his hand. Lancelot, though reluctant, handed his sword to the warlock.

"Do you have enough honour not to use magic?" Arthur - to his own horror - heard himself sneering.

"You have my guarantee."

"Arthur, no!" Gwen cried. "Stop this! You'll kill him!"

"Please, Sire…" Gaius pleaded. "Please reconsider what you are about to do."

"Princess, I swear - "

"Enough!" Merlin commanded in a voice deep enough to rattle the windows, and the others hushed, taken aback.

Arthur rushed at his brother.

And they fought.

-x-

In so much as he'd been thinking at all, Arthur had expected an easy victory, but from Merlin's first powerful diagonal hewing stroke to counter his King's upper opening, the warlock had astounded him. Their range was about equal, but Merlin quickly took control, somehow forcing Arthur to continually respond to him. Huffing with exertion, his face red and sweating, Arthur couldn't take his eyes off of his opponent. Merlin fought with an implacable concentration, coming at Arthur with a fluidity and a controlled, yet relentless momentum he would never have imagined possible before.

A thrust, a strike.

Arthur suddenly understood. It was Merlin's magic. The warlock wasn't using it, but it was there.

A feint, a hanging parry, a sudden twist.

The Merlin he had known had been a flailing boy trying to rein in and control a ferocious hurricane of immense power, but now… This Merlin was skilled, his gifts tamed by centuries of practice - it flowed at his command, not the other way around. Grace, co-ordination, strength, and focus: these were an inherent part of this Merlin.

A clash of metal that rang in Arthur's eardrums.

Arthur looked into the other man's eyes. Merlin's expression was inscrutable, but if pushed, Arthur might have said the dark-haired man was sad.

Abruptly, Merlin appeared to tire, lowering the point of the sword to the ground, exposing the upper opening, but when Arthur fell for it, Merlin quickly turned it into another hanging parry and then, somehow, in a few breathlessly quick moves, moved the strong of his blade to the weak of Arthur's and gained leverage. Another move, two, three. A bind. Merlin went weak so as to disengage his blade and hewed to the other side of Arthur's. A pivot, then a swing that turned Arthur's head around, and then, without warning, a rattling blow that sent an earthquakes up his arm. A final shish resounded through the air and he-didn't-know-how, but in a flash Excalibur was ripped from his hand. The next thing the former King of Camelot knew, he was knocked on his backside onto the wet grass, with Merlin holding Lancelot's sword an inch from his Adam's apple.

"You cheated!" Arthur railed, cringing inwardly at how much of a petulant child he sounded like.

Merlin passed his sword back to Lancelot. "No," he said to Arthur. "I won because you insist on acting on the same fault you've always had. When you fail to look deeper at the people in front of you, to see who and what they truly are, it makes it extraordinarily easy for them to take you by surprise."

"What are you then?" Arthur asked.

"A man who used a sword for centuries. A man who has fought in more wars than you have battles, and more battles than you have had days in your life. A man who, even before that, stared down dragons, who fought sorcerers and scaled cliffs, who stood against warriors and bandits without a weapon or armour and even faced the gods themselves. And, more than that, a man who has lost everyone he has ever loved and still kept going."

Merlin held out his hand, but Arthur slapped it away. "This was hardly much of a fight for you; it's not as if you were risking anything. After all, it's not as though you can die."

"I can, actually," Merlin replied without emotion. Arthur saw him point to Excalibur lying a few feet away. "That's an immortal blade. And, as it is the same one I used to kill Morgana, I am well aware of how effective it is. And that is part of who I am as well. I am a man who has killed."

Arthur got to his feet, but he would not look at Merlin. "You betrayed me."

"Ah, so that's what this is really about. I did wonder."

"Stop being such a damned dismissive bastard!" Arthur demanded. "You know what you did!"

"What did I do then, Arthur?"

"You betrayed me!" the King bellowed and stepped forward as if to strike the other man before he could stop himself.

Merlin didn't flinch, nor did he step back. "I would argue differently, but fine, let's say that. I betrayed you. And you made my very existence a crime. Are we even?"

"The Gods' bones, Merlin…" A simmering Arthur turned and walked a few steps away, trying to control himself. "You destroyed my faith in you! My faith in everything! And tell me, how can I trust you, and everything you say about this strange world, when you never trusted me?"

"Trusted you? Arthur, you stupid arse! I devoted my life to you! What is that if not trust?"

"You know what I mean!"

" 'You didn't trust me, you didn't trust me!' Well, at least you've finally said it! You've had that hiding behind your eyes every time you've spoken to me since you awoke. Are you some thirteen year old girl then, Arthur? Do you think that was the only consideration? Trust? Do you really think that was the only restraint I was under? You talk of trust alone, as if the law wasn't there, but it was. It was always there."

A cold wind blew, whisking the sweat from Arthur's skin. Overhead, the sky was darkening with clouds the colours of bruises. A storm was coming.

"Damnit, Merlin," Arthur said, his voice breaking, "You should have known I would never have hurt you! How do you think if feels to find out your brother was afraid of you?"

Merlin looked pained. "Arthur, how could I have presumed to be above the law? What guarantee did I have that you would make an exception for me? That you would disobey the ultimate law of your own kingdom and hold me above all of your other subjects?

"And, more importantly, how much arrogance would I have needed to think I deserved better than others like me? Why would I think my right to live was inviolate while others burned?

"What reason, in fact, did you ever give me to trust you? Did you change the law? Did you talk about changing it or even say it was wrong? Did you ever say to me, 'Merlin, I've been thinking about this vicious law we have…' Oh wait, yes you did. Once. When the life of a man was threatened - a man you'd only known a few months and who incidentally thought nothing of leaving me injured in a cave to die - then, yes, you considered it. Why him, Arthur? Why not any of the other magical people before? Or wait, was that it? That's right, you didn't know Mordred had magic. So it doesn't matter how many of my kind had to die, we can only think of changing the law when someone non-magical - and therefore innocent - is threatened."

Arthur glowered, barely able to speak. "I didn't know you were a sorcerer!"

"So a law is only bad if it hurts a friend? Maybe if we'd invited the Druids to tea then, we might've avoided the entire Purge!"

"Merlin…" Gaius warned, the reproach in his voice clear.

Merlin remained composed and oh, how Arthur did hate it. "No, Gaius," the warlock said. "I have seen too much. The Inquisition and the witch hunts, the pogroms, the cleansings, the Holocaust… it's all the same thing. The Purge writ large. And it has a name now: genocide. The concentrated attempt to wipe a given people from the face of the Earth."

Merlin stepped closer to Arthur till they were nearly nose to nose. "You know, there were times when I'd think, 'Oh, no, he wouldn't dream of hurting me. He's too good a man.' But then I'd ask myself, 'If he's such a good man, why is the law still there? How can I trust any man who would let a law like that stand?' "

A storm shadow passed over Merlin's eyes and Arthur shivered at the age he saw in them. "But do you know what the truly horrific thing is, Arthur? I told you to keep that law in place when I thought it would save your life. That's how much I loved you, Arthur. Our destiny could have happened then, but I was too afraid to lose you.

"And this is my punishment," he said. "This endless life. So let me tell you, Arthur, I most certainly do not need your petty condemnation as well."

With that, Merlin turned and walked off towards the woods, while Arthur could only watch helplessly.

It started to rain.

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* See earlier chapter, "The Low Road".

Hello, again! Such a deep, heavy chapter to come after that last one, but it will get better. Probably. You know, unless I'm feeling evil...

Anyway, the sword fight - I don't know anything about sword-fighting. These few terms and moves I got off a lightning quick glance at some website, so probably they're completely ridiculous. Don't be afraid to correct me or direct me to a better website - I would welcome it! (Also, they're just impressions on Arthur's memory, so they're not entirely meant to be sequential.)

In any case, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!