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Fic: One Wicked Christmas [1/2] ~ Merry Christmas, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reni_m!
Title: One Wicked Christmas (Modern!AU)
Author: dk323
Rating: R
Warnings: character (not Merlin or Arthur) with psychological illness, incest (but really, it’s more like self-cest?), swearing, violence (non-explicit)
Word count: 11,013 (total)
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, OC
Disclaimer: The show Merlin is property of the BBC.
Summary: Arthur thought that the oddest thing about Merlin was his magic, but one Christmas, he discovers how wrong he is. When there’s a news story about everyone dying at a psychiatric institution, Arthur’s Christmas is about to take a very wicked turn.
Author’s Notes: This is more of a dark holiday story, but I was inspired by a drawing she recently did and this fic is the result. A link to the drawing is at the end as it’s a bit of a story spoiler. ;) I’m also re-using an idea that I introduced in another fic of mine.
Happy Holidays,reni_m! : )
~ * ~
Prologue:
JOURNAL ENTRY
December 23, 2011
It has been two years since I’ve been here in this place for the nutters.
I don’t blame my brother for putting me in here. He was just confused at the time. Mother manipulated him.
I understand. I forgive him.
Anyway, there’s no place that can hold me forever.
I don’t understand what the bloody psychiatrist is on about. What’s wrong with not showing empathy to anyone else but my brother?
All that matters to me is my brother. They don’t understand. Of course they don’t. They think I’m ‘the twin gone wrong’, but I’m not a twin. Their brains are too small to comprehend what I am.
And if one more person calls me Houdini, they will pay dearly.
My name is Merlyn.
M-E-R-L-Y-N. Fuck you, Edwin.
It will end soon.
(PS) Reminder: Kill the dragon
~ * ~
December 24th | Christmas Eve
Arthur set down the steaming cups of cocoa on the round table in front of the television. Allowing his own dragon mug to cool, he sat down beside Merlin on the couch. Unsurprisingly, Merlin was under the dark blue blanket that he had magical adjusted. That alteration was a big central design of a white dragon with his wings spread out and his long tail curled around the blade of a golden-hilted sword.
The blanket had been designed a year ago when they’d celebrated their one year anniversary living together as a couple. Merlin had thought to do something a bit Arthurian legend by including the sword and then the dragon to represent magic. Arthur admitted that he had done a fairly good job for his first time magicking a design on a plain old blanket.
A few weeks ago, they had celebrated two years of living together. For that, Merlin had given Arthur a mug with a dragon on it for ‘Pendragon’. Thanks to Merlin’s magic, the dragon’s golden eyes glowed every time that Arthur drank from the mug.
In return, Arthur had given Merlin a replica of Harry Potter’s wand as more of a gag gift while the real gift had been that evening. The joke had been on Arthur as Merlin had purposefully engineered the wand to channel his magic, smiling wickedly at Arthur when he had shown him what he had done. Leave it to say, that night a few weeks ago was unforgettable.
“Thanks,” Merlin said with a smile. He took the cup, wrapping his hands around it. The surface of the cocoa was covered with small marshmallows and bits of apple. Merlin started sipping some of it, aiming to get a marshmallow and apple piece in one go.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Arthur warned him. “Unless you want to burn your throat.”
Merlin only shrugged, and he offered Arthur a place under the big blanket. “All right. You forgot the cinnamon though. At least you remembered the apple.” He said appreciatively.
Arthur looked at him strangely, but Merlin was used to it. “What is it with you and apple cinnamon? You seem to put it on everything you eat.”
“Not everything,” corrected Merlin. “I do have a sense of taste, you know. I wouldn’t put it on fish and chips, for one. And I told you, my mum always had apple cinnamon-scented candles lit during autumn when I was growing up. The memory of that scent – always reminding me of home and comfort -- has stayed with me. I’m sure you have some quirk like that.”
“Yes. Being with you. That’s my quirk,” Arthur quipped smartly.
After Merlin had put his cup down, he punched Arthur playfully on the shoulder.
“Shove off,” said Merlin.
Arthur smiled unrepentantly at him.
“My hands are feeling a bit warm,” Merlin remarked idly.
He removed his worn dark grey fingerless mittens that Arthur had come to see as a near-permanent accessory on his boyfriend – in and out of the house.
Arthur shifted away from Merlin slightly, unsure if now without the mittens, Merlin’s magic would act up unexpectedly.
Merlin wiggled his fingers at him in mock-threat.
“I don’t get how those fingerless mittens help you with your magic. Shouldn’t they be gloves then to cover your whole hand?” Arthur told him.
“My magic can be temperamental at times. Wearing the mittens helps to calm my magic down before leaving my hands when I do a spell,” Merlin explained. “And I’d rather have my fingers uncovered, give them some fresh air. It doesn’t matter if my hands are fully covered or not. The enchantment on the mittens is enough to override that.”
“Are you going to make little faces on your fingers too?” Arthur teased him.
“I’ll have you know I gave each of my fingers names,” Merlin played along easily.
“I always knew you were a bit mad,” Arthur declared, shaking his head and chuckling.
“Life would be dull without a little madness in the day,” Merlin said thoughtfully, smiling at Arthur.
“Merry Christmas,” Arthur wished him. He moved in to kiss Merlin.
“Merry Christmas. I love you,” said Merlin sincerely after the kiss.
“As I you,” Arthur told him.
Merlin kissed him in reply and made Arthur move closer to him, reassuring him that his magic was being very well-behaved and that Arthur should be braver than this.
As expected, Arthur took offense to that and he did change his position – putting his arm around Merlin’s shoulders while Merlin rested his head on the crook of Arthur’s shoulder.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around your magical talents…” Arthur mused aloud.
Merlin looked up at him in disbelief. “Seriously, Arthur?” He argued. “Morgana is your sister and she has been predicting the future since she was little.”
“That doesn’t really count as half the time she’s completely wrong,” Arthur said firmly.
“Morgana did foresee that you would meet me,” Merlin pointed out.
Arthur scoffed in response. “Morgana was lucky that time.”
Merlin continued, “She does the best she could. There are multiple possible futures, so she can’t always predict with accuracy which future will definitely happen.”
“Maybe she should be your sister, Merlin, with the way you defend her all the time.”
Merlin rolled his eyes at him. He kissed Arthur on the lips. “No, I’d rather reserve that honour to you.”
“Why don’t I feel any better then?” Arthur asked with a long sigh.
“Oh, it’s Christmas Eve, Arthur. Be happy you even have a sibling. I’m just a sad only child.”
“Yeah, but at least your mother actually loves you and your father isn’t as cold as ice. Er…sorry. I know your father died--”
“I was very young when he died,” Merlin intimated quietly. “I can’t remember what sort of man he was, but my mum reassured me that he was all right.”
“No one’s father is as frustrating as Uther Pendragon. I can assure you of that.”
“Yes, Arthur. That’s the holiday spirit,” Merlin told him dryly.
Arthur shrugged. “It’s the unfortunate truth,” he admitted regretfully.
Merlin set down his cup on the table and standing up, he announced, “I’ll get the chocolate biscuits.”
He left to go to the kitchen.
Arthur turned on the telly and he almost regretted it. Great, he thought, as the news was airing and they were going on about everyone mysteriously dying at “Happy Thoughts” psychiatric institution. And Arthur really couldn’t think of a more ironic name for a psychiatric facility than “Happy Thoughts.”
This was the last story he wanted to hear on Christmas Eve of all holidays. Why couldn’t they save it until after Christmas? For crissake.
“According to officials, earlier this evening, a fatal plague swept through the Happy Thoughts psychiatric facility resulting in all occupants dying. There is no need for concern as experts have confirmed that the plague was only confined to the psychiatric institution. At this present time, no traces of this plague can be found either outside or inside the building. It was an isolated incident, but it is too early to say who the culprit of this terrible crime is,” the news caster informed viewers.
When Merlin returned to the living room during the particularly grim news story, he dropped the plate of biscuits. He recovered well enough to magically freeze the biscuits before they fell to the floor, placing them on the plate once again.
But it was undeniable that something had unsettled Merlin. And still was affecting him.
Arthur looked at Merlin in concern. Merlin had gone pale and his hands were shaking.
“What’s wrong, Merlin?” Arthur asked him.
He stood up and approached Merlin.
After taking the plate that Merlin gripped loosely in unsteady hands, Arthur put it out of the way on the table.
He gripped Merlin by his shoulders, forcing him to look directly at Arthur.
Merlin gave him an unconvincing, weak smile. “Nothing. It’s nothing, Arthur. Happy Thoughts, eh? Ridiculous name for a psychiatric facility, right?” He joked, rambling on nervously.
He laughed hollowly. Then he extricated himself from Arthur’s hold on him. “I’m fine. Just fine…” Merlin attempted to reassure him, but Arthur wasn’t buying it.
Merlin magically summoned his fingerless mittens to him. He put them on before he escaped into the kitchen.
“Can you get three apple cinnamon-scented candles please, Arthur?” Merlin called to him amidst the racket he was making in the kitchen. “I think they’re in our room…there’s a box of them under the bed.”
Arthur stared after Merlin in puzzlement. What was going on with Merlin? And it clearly had something to do with the news report on the psychiatric institution, but what exactly?
Needing to know what was up, Arthur followed Merlin into the kitchen. “Merlin, could you please tell me what the problem is?” Arthur asked him. “You look like someone’s coming to hunt you down. Does it have anything to do with the deaths at the psychiatric facility?”
“I’m going to make mince pie,” Merlin replied a little too cheerfully. “I’m in the mood for some.”
“Merlin…” Arthur said firmly, hoping Merlin got the message that he wouldn’t let him circumvent the issue.
Facing away from Arthur, Merlin sighed resignedly. “I don’t like lying to you, Arthur,” he confessed to him, still turned away from Arthur.
Clearly Merlin couldn’t bear to look Arthur in the eye as he revealed whatever he needed to reveal.
“What is it? Just tell me. We’ve known each other long enough. Did you know someone from that psychiatric facility? According to the news, everyone died…but maybe they have it wrong…”
Merlin didn’t answer him. He only took a shaky breath.
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Could you look at me?”
Merlin slowly turned around. His head was down, his eyes still not meeting Arthur’s.
“Like I said, I don’t want to lie to you. But it’s hard to…” Merlin trailed off, fidgeting with his fingers. Then he looked straight at Arthur. “Listen, I think someone might come here soon… and this person will attack you no matter what you say or do, so you know that sword I gave you for your birthday? You could use it to defend yourself. Please, would you do that for me?”
“You’re telling me to use my sword against a stranger who for some reason wants to kill me?” Arthur asked him incredulously. “I’m missing a lot of details here, Merlin.”
Merlin shrugged, and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I really am. Hopefully this person won’t even come and we can just forget about it. Still, I need those apple cinnamon candles, if that’s all right? Please, Arthur.”
“I’m not going to let this go, you realize,” Arthur told him in no uncertain terms.
Merlin nodded. “Yes, I know,” he acknowledged unhappily. “Just, I can’t talk about this now. Please respect that.”
“This isn’t over,” Arthur declared, but he couldn’t help but take pity on Merlin who undoubtedly was very much bothered by something and appeared close to falling to pieces, literally.
Merlin looked far too anxious and ill at ease. Arthur wished he could make Merlin feel better.
Arthur left the kitchen to get the candles. He heard Merlin thank him gratefully as he went up the stairs to the bedroom. The relief in Merlin’s voice due to Arthur holding off on the questioning was undeniable.
Arthur just had to give him time. Right now, Merlin seemed too shaken up to have a proper, divulging talk with Arthur.
~ * ~
In the middle of the night, Arthur swore he heard someone moving about on the first floor. What if it was that person Merlin had warned him about? The one intent on attacking him for some unknown reason?
Arthur debated waking up Merlin since he had magic after all, and would be more effective against a threat. Not that Arthur believed he himself was useless -- in fact he felt comfortable wielding the sword that Merlin had gifted him. Almost like the sword had always been meant to be used by him. He was simply being logical in knowing that Merlin and his magic could be a great help to him.
Yet he was grateful that Merlin had fallen into a calming sleep after his anxiety-ridden behavior earlier. He couldn’t bear to disturb Merlin’s slumber when he so clearly needed the sleep. After all, Arthur had made the effort to convince Merlin to drink a special tea that would insure a good night’s sleep for him. Fortunately, Merlin had obliged him, apologizing earnestly once again that he couldn’t tell Arthur everything.
Merlin had confided in him that he thought Arthur had enough to contend with – accepting the fact that Merlin possessed actual magic and powerful magic at that. He didn’t want to add more to Arthur’s ‘must accept all these odd things about Merlin’ plate.
All that hinting certainly didn’t make Arthur any less impatient to discover the secrets Merlin was hiding. But he did the best he could.
Time. He just needed to be patient, to be willing to wait.
He kissed a sleeping Merlin on the brow. “Here goes nothing,” Arthur then muttered under his breath as he quietly climbed out of bed.
After getting dressed in a shirt and denim, he went to the chest at the foot of the bed. His sword was contained in a long, narrow case in addition to the sheath which protected the blade.
Arthur unsheathed his sword and as soft-footed as he could, he left the bedroom and made his way toward the stairs.
But before he went down the stairs, he was struck by the sight before him. He had only set three of those apple cinnamon candles on the round table, as Merlin had requested. But now in the living room, the area was filled with floating red candles that gave off an apple cinnamon scent. The light from the candles illuminated the dark living room, casting an eerie shadow across the place.
A half-eaten piece of the mince pie Merlin had made was left seemingly abandoned on the table. And then there was the fallen cup of apple cinnamon tea. Some of the tea surrounded the leftover mince pie as if whoever was eating it wanted the tea to be absorbed into the slice of pie.
Arthur was decidedly nervous now. Whoever it was clearly had magic judging by the floating candles. The light from the kitchen gave Arthur reason to believe the intruder was presently in there.
Now even more wary, he went down the stairs with his sword out in front of him at the ready position. He only got halfway from reaching the bottom when the person exited the kitchen.
Arthur was just able to resist gasping in shock. He dropped his sword in his surprise. The person was Merlin, no, he looked like Merlin. It couldn’t be Merlin since he was fast asleep.
And the Merlin look-a-like had this cold, almost inhuman look in his eyes that Arthur had never seen on the Merlin he knew. Admittedly, the startlingly dark expression on the person’s face unnerved Arthur. It made him question the man’s humanity.
The man turned his cold look upon Arthur, smiling a wicked, mirthless smile at him.
“Merlin told you that he was just a sad only child, didn’t he?” the look-a-like said knowingly.
Arthur wondered how he knew exactly what Merlin had told him despite not being present when it had been said.
Maybe it was a magic thing since the man clearly had magic.
“Who are you? His identical twin brother?” Arthur surmised. Considering the remarkable resemblance in appearance and age, it was the best conclusion he could muster.
“He thought it was too much for your small brain to comprehend,” the look-a-like insulted him. “My name is Merlyn, that is, with a ‘y’, and I am his brother, but I am not a twin.”
“Right. What are you doing here? What do you want?” Arthur demanded from him.
“I left the mental hospital I was staying in. I thought I’d visit.”
“What were you in there for?” Arthur asked him.
He had thought Merlin possessing magic was strange enough, but now he apparently had a brother who had spent time in a mental facility. The coldness radiating from Merlyn made him so different from his Merlin. Arthur could understand why Merlin would keep this brother of his a secret because there was undeniably something wrong with him.
Arthur also wondered what the reasoning was for the two of them to have virtually the same names. Why had Merlin’s mother given her two children the same name but just with a slightly different spelling? That must have gotten confusing fast.
“Oh, well…let’s see…there’s delusions of grandeur, obsession, being largely devoid of empathy, and my favorite: homicidal tendencies. You know, all the good stuff,” Merlyn said casually. “And now I’m going to kill you,” he declared.
Before Arthur could even think to pick up his fallen sword, he was rooted to the spot. Merlyn had put some type of freezing spell on him that prevented him from moving his arms and legs.
“You don’t know me. What have I ever done to you?” Arthur wanted to know while internally trying not to panic.
Merlyn smirked. “I’ve spent two years at an institution for the nutters. What I’ve learned is I don’t need a reason to explain what I do. I just do it.”
He conjured two daggers and pointed the sharp ends at Arthur.
“I’d love to rip your heart out and squeeze it, see the blood spilling out of it,” Merlyn said enthusiastically.
It made Arthur sick to hear someone speak so viciously like that, and he knew then without a doubt that Merlyn wouldn’t feel remorseful at all if he killed Arthur.
Then Arthur realized something. Wait. Happy Thoughts…that psychiatric institution… Merlyn had the capability, Arthur believed, what with his magic to engineer that plague and with his homicidal tendencies…it fit.
“It was you,” he uttered. “You did it. You were at Happy Thoughts. You killed everyone. They’ll find out it was you,” Arthur informed him.
“No, you arse. They won’t. I made a very convincing, very dead body double with my magic. What – you think I didn’t think things through? Just because I was a mental patient doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Arthur said quickly when Merlyn started looking tense, and annoyed.
He waved his hands at the two daggers and sent them flying toward Arthur.
Survival instinct kicking in, Arthur tried his best to move, to overcome the freezing spell on him.
But he couldn’t.
Before the daggers could hit him, Merlin magically teleported in front of him. Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief, but then he was horrified when the daggers pierced Merlin’s abdomen instead.
Merlin grimaced in pain as he collapsed on the stairs.
“Dammit, Merlin. You could have just stopped time,” Arthur said in frustration and worry.
He still couldn’t move. He hated that he couldn’t help Merlin after Merlin had saved him.
He was about to yell at Merlin’s brother when he was startled by the change in attitude by him.
Upon seeing Merlin down and hurt, his brother was distraught and his eyes welled up in tears.
“No, no, please,” Merlyn said desperately. “They weren’t meant for you. I came to see you…please…I love you, I love you.”
He fell to his knees and he petted his brother’s hair, kissing him on the lips. “I’ll fix you,” he promised Merlin.
Merlin’s brother pulled out the daggers from Merlin and then he angrily threw the offending weapons behind him.
“The spell on Arthur…” Merlin said, coughing up blood as he did so. “Remove it.”
“But it’s his fault. I don’t want to,” his brother said plaintively, sounding childlike as he protested.
“Hurting him upsets me,” Merlin continued in earnest. He grasped his brother’s hand, but his grip was decidedly weak as he suffered from blood loss from his injury.
The spell that kept Arthur frozen in place remained as unfortunately, Merlin’s attempt at aiding him fell on deaf ears.
Merlin’s brother graced Arthur with a smug smile. He appeared inordinately pleased that he had the upper hand here while Merlin was fading away as he succumbed to blood loss.
Merlyn shushed his brother, and he reassured him that he would take care of him and not to worry. He placed his hand over Merlin’s brow and his eyes glowed golden as he said a spell to put Merlin to sleep. Judging by Merlin closing his eyes and his breathing slowing down, Arthur could only assume that was the spell’s purpose.
He gently shifted Merlin off the stairs and on to a mattress he’d conjured on the floor of the lower level. Merlyn had a pillow at one end for Merlin’s head to rest on.
He kissed Merlin again, but on his forehead this time.
“Are you going to magically heal him?” Arthur asked Merlyn.
He hoped that the deep and somewhat disturbing affection Merlin’s brother had for Merlin would translate to Merlin being healed.
Merlyn whipped his head around. “Would you shut up?” He demanded. “You have the most irritating voice I’ve ever heard. And you don’t fool me. You still think I’m stupid, so you can fuck off and shut up,” he ordered Arthur.
“I honestly don’t think that,” Arthur tried to defend himself.
But answering Merlyn had been the wrong thing to do as he fisted one hand, directing it at Arthur, and a moment later, Arthur found that he had lost his voice.
“Now you can properly shut up,” Merlyn declared, a dark pleasure in his voice as he embraced the power he had.
Arthur could only glare at him.
Unperturbed, Merlyn returned his attention back to his brother, placing his now glowing hands over the abdomen area that had been damaged.
Arthur wondered if this was what his Merlin could have been like. He couldn’t bear to think of it. He was torn between being grateful for finally seeing what Merlin had been hiding from him and wishing he had never learned the twisted truth. He had always thought there was something he was missing about Merlin…and this was it, this dark mirror version of him. Arthur now wondered if that day two years ago when Merlin had been so upset and frustrated had to do with his brother being put in the mental institution.
But why had Merlin sent his brother off to a mental facility only two years ago? Why not earlier than that? Arthur doubted that Merlyn’s mental issues could’ve cropped just two years ago. Whatever was wrong with him seemed like a lifelong illness…not that Arthur was an expert on psychological illness, but the pure hatred in Merlyn’s eyes when he looked at Arthur and then the obsessive affection he had for his brother seemed to be an indelible part of his screwed up personality. There was no way it had inexplicably developed only two years ago.
Merlin had moved in with Arthur two years ago though. What if Merlin’s brother had taken issue with Merlin moving forward with his life? That helped to explain why Merlin’s brother hated Arthur. Arthur was Merlin’s ticket away from his past of dealing with a brother who was far too affectionate with him and maybe a bit possessive as well. And so Merlin had put his brother in a mental institution to try to make an official break with his past.
But Arthur was getting ahead of himself. Being frozen in place and being unable to speak was making him think too much.
Yet his conclusion made sense in his mind. He needed Merlin to fill in the missing pieces for him though.
Once Merlyn was finished healing his brother, he stood up and faced Arthur. Unfortunately, Merlin was still under the sleeping spell his brother had put on him. Arthur was on his own now.
“I think I should step this up,” he decided.
He conjured a gun and he pointed it at Arthur.
Arthur still was denied his ability to speak, so he could say nothing as he stood frozen at the wrong end of a gun.
Merlin’s brother smiled coldly and pulled the trigger.
And Arthur didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when a bullet didn’t come speeding out of the barrel. Instead it was the word, ‘Bang’ written in black on white triangular paper. Like a fake gun prop used for laughs.
Merlyn magically froze at the same moment.
Merlin had woken up. Arthur saw his eyes glowing golden and his hand had been outstretched. He had stopped his brother from killing Arthur again.
Wearily, Merlin stood up and he gave Arthur an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry about this. It’s too much to handle for you, I know. Accepting my magic is one thing, but I understand if you can’t deal with my brother being – well – you saw how he is. I can use my magic to make you forget about me completely… maybe, yes, it’ll be better for you that way. I can’t ask you to accept all of this. I’m sorry. If you want to leave now, I understand.”
Arthur couldn’t believe that Merlin was so ready to give up on their relationship. They had been together four years now, and just like that, just because Merlin’s brother was a bit of a psychopath, Merlin planned to end their relationship, to Obliviate Arthur.
Sure, it was a shocking revelation to learn about Merlin’s brother who wanted to kill Arthur, but he only needed time to think things over. That was all. The drastic action wasn’t necessary.
But first, Arthur really needed his voice back and the ability to move his limbs again.
When he didn’t answer Merlin, or move at all for that matter, Merlin finally remembered that the spells on Arthur needed to be removed. He had been so worried about how Arthur would take this whole mess with his brother that he had forgotten about it.
Merlin waved his hand at Arthur to lift the enchantments off him.
“Thanks,” Arthur said as he flexed his fingers as if to prove to himself that he was free of the spell.
Merlin bit his lip. “Um…you’re welcome. I expect you’d like to leave then? I could have you forget about me and you can move on with your life in peace. I don’t mind. I’d understand. It’s just that he’s still my brother – well technically he’s not my brother, but he accepts that and to everyone, it’s easier to explain it that way. No one believes in magic these days after all…” Merlin trailed off, his words running away from him. He continued on before Arthur could speak, “--Anyway, I’m sorry, but Merlyn’s still family and he’s my priority now. So if you can’t deal with this and you want to end things with me – I completely understand, but no matter what, I need to focus on my brother now. He comes first.”
Part Two
Author: dk323
Rating: R
Warnings: character (not Merlin or Arthur) with psychological illness, incest (but really, it’s more like self-cest?), swearing, violence (non-explicit)
Word count: 11,013 (total)
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, OC
Disclaimer: The show Merlin is property of the BBC.
Summary: Arthur thought that the oddest thing about Merlin was his magic, but one Christmas, he discovers how wrong he is. When there’s a news story about everyone dying at a psychiatric institution, Arthur’s Christmas is about to take a very wicked turn.
Author’s Notes: This is more of a dark holiday story, but I was inspired by a drawing she recently did and this fic is the result. A link to the drawing is at the end as it’s a bit of a story spoiler. ;) I’m also re-using an idea that I introduced in another fic of mine.
Happy Holidays,
reni_m! : )~ * ~
Prologue:
JOURNAL ENTRY
December 23, 2011
It has been two years since I’ve been here in this place for the nutters.
I don’t blame my brother for putting me in here. He was just confused at the time. Mother manipulated him.
I understand. I forgive him.
Anyway, there’s no place that can hold me forever.
I don’t understand what the bloody psychiatrist is on about. What’s wrong with not showing empathy to anyone else but my brother?
All that matters to me is my brother. They don’t understand. Of course they don’t. They think I’m ‘the twin gone wrong’, but I’m not a twin. Their brains are too small to comprehend what I am.
And if one more person calls me Houdini, they will pay dearly.
My name is Merlyn.
M-E-R-L-Y-N. Fuck you, Edwin.
It will end soon.
(PS) Reminder: Kill the dragon
~ * ~
December 24th | Christmas Eve
Arthur set down the steaming cups of cocoa on the round table in front of the television. Allowing his own dragon mug to cool, he sat down beside Merlin on the couch. Unsurprisingly, Merlin was under the dark blue blanket that he had magical adjusted. That alteration was a big central design of a white dragon with his wings spread out and his long tail curled around the blade of a golden-hilted sword.
The blanket had been designed a year ago when they’d celebrated their one year anniversary living together as a couple. Merlin had thought to do something a bit Arthurian legend by including the sword and then the dragon to represent magic. Arthur admitted that he had done a fairly good job for his first time magicking a design on a plain old blanket.
A few weeks ago, they had celebrated two years of living together. For that, Merlin had given Arthur a mug with a dragon on it for ‘Pendragon’. Thanks to Merlin’s magic, the dragon’s golden eyes glowed every time that Arthur drank from the mug.
In return, Arthur had given Merlin a replica of Harry Potter’s wand as more of a gag gift while the real gift had been that evening. The joke had been on Arthur as Merlin had purposefully engineered the wand to channel his magic, smiling wickedly at Arthur when he had shown him what he had done. Leave it to say, that night a few weeks ago was unforgettable.
“Thanks,” Merlin said with a smile. He took the cup, wrapping his hands around it. The surface of the cocoa was covered with small marshmallows and bits of apple. Merlin started sipping some of it, aiming to get a marshmallow and apple piece in one go.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Arthur warned him. “Unless you want to burn your throat.”
Merlin only shrugged, and he offered Arthur a place under the big blanket. “All right. You forgot the cinnamon though. At least you remembered the apple.” He said appreciatively.
Arthur looked at him strangely, but Merlin was used to it. “What is it with you and apple cinnamon? You seem to put it on everything you eat.”
“Not everything,” corrected Merlin. “I do have a sense of taste, you know. I wouldn’t put it on fish and chips, for one. And I told you, my mum always had apple cinnamon-scented candles lit during autumn when I was growing up. The memory of that scent – always reminding me of home and comfort -- has stayed with me. I’m sure you have some quirk like that.”
“Yes. Being with you. That’s my quirk,” Arthur quipped smartly.
After Merlin had put his cup down, he punched Arthur playfully on the shoulder.
“Shove off,” said Merlin.
Arthur smiled unrepentantly at him.
“My hands are feeling a bit warm,” Merlin remarked idly.
He removed his worn dark grey fingerless mittens that Arthur had come to see as a near-permanent accessory on his boyfriend – in and out of the house.
Arthur shifted away from Merlin slightly, unsure if now without the mittens, Merlin’s magic would act up unexpectedly.
Merlin wiggled his fingers at him in mock-threat.
“I don’t get how those fingerless mittens help you with your magic. Shouldn’t they be gloves then to cover your whole hand?” Arthur told him.
“My magic can be temperamental at times. Wearing the mittens helps to calm my magic down before leaving my hands when I do a spell,” Merlin explained. “And I’d rather have my fingers uncovered, give them some fresh air. It doesn’t matter if my hands are fully covered or not. The enchantment on the mittens is enough to override that.”
“Are you going to make little faces on your fingers too?” Arthur teased him.
“I’ll have you know I gave each of my fingers names,” Merlin played along easily.
“I always knew you were a bit mad,” Arthur declared, shaking his head and chuckling.
“Life would be dull without a little madness in the day,” Merlin said thoughtfully, smiling at Arthur.
“Merry Christmas,” Arthur wished him. He moved in to kiss Merlin.
“Merry Christmas. I love you,” said Merlin sincerely after the kiss.
“As I you,” Arthur told him.
Merlin kissed him in reply and made Arthur move closer to him, reassuring him that his magic was being very well-behaved and that Arthur should be braver than this.
As expected, Arthur took offense to that and he did change his position – putting his arm around Merlin’s shoulders while Merlin rested his head on the crook of Arthur’s shoulder.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around your magical talents…” Arthur mused aloud.
Merlin looked up at him in disbelief. “Seriously, Arthur?” He argued. “Morgana is your sister and she has been predicting the future since she was little.”
“That doesn’t really count as half the time she’s completely wrong,” Arthur said firmly.
“Morgana did foresee that you would meet me,” Merlin pointed out.
Arthur scoffed in response. “Morgana was lucky that time.”
Merlin continued, “She does the best she could. There are multiple possible futures, so she can’t always predict with accuracy which future will definitely happen.”
“Maybe she should be your sister, Merlin, with the way you defend her all the time.”
Merlin rolled his eyes at him. He kissed Arthur on the lips. “No, I’d rather reserve that honour to you.”
“Why don’t I feel any better then?” Arthur asked with a long sigh.
“Oh, it’s Christmas Eve, Arthur. Be happy you even have a sibling. I’m just a sad only child.”
“Yeah, but at least your mother actually loves you and your father isn’t as cold as ice. Er…sorry. I know your father died--”
“I was very young when he died,” Merlin intimated quietly. “I can’t remember what sort of man he was, but my mum reassured me that he was all right.”
“No one’s father is as frustrating as Uther Pendragon. I can assure you of that.”
“Yes, Arthur. That’s the holiday spirit,” Merlin told him dryly.
Arthur shrugged. “It’s the unfortunate truth,” he admitted regretfully.
Merlin set down his cup on the table and standing up, he announced, “I’ll get the chocolate biscuits.”
He left to go to the kitchen.
Arthur turned on the telly and he almost regretted it. Great, he thought, as the news was airing and they were going on about everyone mysteriously dying at “Happy Thoughts” psychiatric institution. And Arthur really couldn’t think of a more ironic name for a psychiatric facility than “Happy Thoughts.”
This was the last story he wanted to hear on Christmas Eve of all holidays. Why couldn’t they save it until after Christmas? For crissake.
“According to officials, earlier this evening, a fatal plague swept through the Happy Thoughts psychiatric facility resulting in all occupants dying. There is no need for concern as experts have confirmed that the plague was only confined to the psychiatric institution. At this present time, no traces of this plague can be found either outside or inside the building. It was an isolated incident, but it is too early to say who the culprit of this terrible crime is,” the news caster informed viewers.
When Merlin returned to the living room during the particularly grim news story, he dropped the plate of biscuits. He recovered well enough to magically freeze the biscuits before they fell to the floor, placing them on the plate once again.
But it was undeniable that something had unsettled Merlin. And still was affecting him.
Arthur looked at Merlin in concern. Merlin had gone pale and his hands were shaking.
“What’s wrong, Merlin?” Arthur asked him.
He stood up and approached Merlin.
After taking the plate that Merlin gripped loosely in unsteady hands, Arthur put it out of the way on the table.
He gripped Merlin by his shoulders, forcing him to look directly at Arthur.
Merlin gave him an unconvincing, weak smile. “Nothing. It’s nothing, Arthur. Happy Thoughts, eh? Ridiculous name for a psychiatric facility, right?” He joked, rambling on nervously.
He laughed hollowly. Then he extricated himself from Arthur’s hold on him. “I’m fine. Just fine…” Merlin attempted to reassure him, but Arthur wasn’t buying it.
Merlin magically summoned his fingerless mittens to him. He put them on before he escaped into the kitchen.
“Can you get three apple cinnamon-scented candles please, Arthur?” Merlin called to him amidst the racket he was making in the kitchen. “I think they’re in our room…there’s a box of them under the bed.”
Arthur stared after Merlin in puzzlement. What was going on with Merlin? And it clearly had something to do with the news report on the psychiatric institution, but what exactly?
Needing to know what was up, Arthur followed Merlin into the kitchen. “Merlin, could you please tell me what the problem is?” Arthur asked him. “You look like someone’s coming to hunt you down. Does it have anything to do with the deaths at the psychiatric facility?”
“I’m going to make mince pie,” Merlin replied a little too cheerfully. “I’m in the mood for some.”
“Merlin…” Arthur said firmly, hoping Merlin got the message that he wouldn’t let him circumvent the issue.
Facing away from Arthur, Merlin sighed resignedly. “I don’t like lying to you, Arthur,” he confessed to him, still turned away from Arthur.
Clearly Merlin couldn’t bear to look Arthur in the eye as he revealed whatever he needed to reveal.
“What is it? Just tell me. We’ve known each other long enough. Did you know someone from that psychiatric facility? According to the news, everyone died…but maybe they have it wrong…”
Merlin didn’t answer him. He only took a shaky breath.
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Could you look at me?”
Merlin slowly turned around. His head was down, his eyes still not meeting Arthur’s.
“Like I said, I don’t want to lie to you. But it’s hard to…” Merlin trailed off, fidgeting with his fingers. Then he looked straight at Arthur. “Listen, I think someone might come here soon… and this person will attack you no matter what you say or do, so you know that sword I gave you for your birthday? You could use it to defend yourself. Please, would you do that for me?”
“You’re telling me to use my sword against a stranger who for some reason wants to kill me?” Arthur asked him incredulously. “I’m missing a lot of details here, Merlin.”
Merlin shrugged, and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I really am. Hopefully this person won’t even come and we can just forget about it. Still, I need those apple cinnamon candles, if that’s all right? Please, Arthur.”
“I’m not going to let this go, you realize,” Arthur told him in no uncertain terms.
Merlin nodded. “Yes, I know,” he acknowledged unhappily. “Just, I can’t talk about this now. Please respect that.”
“This isn’t over,” Arthur declared, but he couldn’t help but take pity on Merlin who undoubtedly was very much bothered by something and appeared close to falling to pieces, literally.
Merlin looked far too anxious and ill at ease. Arthur wished he could make Merlin feel better.
Arthur left the kitchen to get the candles. He heard Merlin thank him gratefully as he went up the stairs to the bedroom. The relief in Merlin’s voice due to Arthur holding off on the questioning was undeniable.
Arthur just had to give him time. Right now, Merlin seemed too shaken up to have a proper, divulging talk with Arthur.
~ * ~
In the middle of the night, Arthur swore he heard someone moving about on the first floor. What if it was that person Merlin had warned him about? The one intent on attacking him for some unknown reason?
Arthur debated waking up Merlin since he had magic after all, and would be more effective against a threat. Not that Arthur believed he himself was useless -- in fact he felt comfortable wielding the sword that Merlin had gifted him. Almost like the sword had always been meant to be used by him. He was simply being logical in knowing that Merlin and his magic could be a great help to him.
Yet he was grateful that Merlin had fallen into a calming sleep after his anxiety-ridden behavior earlier. He couldn’t bear to disturb Merlin’s slumber when he so clearly needed the sleep. After all, Arthur had made the effort to convince Merlin to drink a special tea that would insure a good night’s sleep for him. Fortunately, Merlin had obliged him, apologizing earnestly once again that he couldn’t tell Arthur everything.
Merlin had confided in him that he thought Arthur had enough to contend with – accepting the fact that Merlin possessed actual magic and powerful magic at that. He didn’t want to add more to Arthur’s ‘must accept all these odd things about Merlin’ plate.
All that hinting certainly didn’t make Arthur any less impatient to discover the secrets Merlin was hiding. But he did the best he could.
Time. He just needed to be patient, to be willing to wait.
He kissed a sleeping Merlin on the brow. “Here goes nothing,” Arthur then muttered under his breath as he quietly climbed out of bed.
After getting dressed in a shirt and denim, he went to the chest at the foot of the bed. His sword was contained in a long, narrow case in addition to the sheath which protected the blade.
Arthur unsheathed his sword and as soft-footed as he could, he left the bedroom and made his way toward the stairs.
But before he went down the stairs, he was struck by the sight before him. He had only set three of those apple cinnamon candles on the round table, as Merlin had requested. But now in the living room, the area was filled with floating red candles that gave off an apple cinnamon scent. The light from the candles illuminated the dark living room, casting an eerie shadow across the place.
A half-eaten piece of the mince pie Merlin had made was left seemingly abandoned on the table. And then there was the fallen cup of apple cinnamon tea. Some of the tea surrounded the leftover mince pie as if whoever was eating it wanted the tea to be absorbed into the slice of pie.
Arthur was decidedly nervous now. Whoever it was clearly had magic judging by the floating candles. The light from the kitchen gave Arthur reason to believe the intruder was presently in there.
Now even more wary, he went down the stairs with his sword out in front of him at the ready position. He only got halfway from reaching the bottom when the person exited the kitchen.
Arthur was just able to resist gasping in shock. He dropped his sword in his surprise. The person was Merlin, no, he looked like Merlin. It couldn’t be Merlin since he was fast asleep.
And the Merlin look-a-like had this cold, almost inhuman look in his eyes that Arthur had never seen on the Merlin he knew. Admittedly, the startlingly dark expression on the person’s face unnerved Arthur. It made him question the man’s humanity.
The man turned his cold look upon Arthur, smiling a wicked, mirthless smile at him.
“Merlin told you that he was just a sad only child, didn’t he?” the look-a-like said knowingly.
Arthur wondered how he knew exactly what Merlin had told him despite not being present when it had been said.
Maybe it was a magic thing since the man clearly had magic.
“Who are you? His identical twin brother?” Arthur surmised. Considering the remarkable resemblance in appearance and age, it was the best conclusion he could muster.
“He thought it was too much for your small brain to comprehend,” the look-a-like insulted him. “My name is Merlyn, that is, with a ‘y’, and I am his brother, but I am not a twin.”
“Right. What are you doing here? What do you want?” Arthur demanded from him.
“I left the mental hospital I was staying in. I thought I’d visit.”
“What were you in there for?” Arthur asked him.
He had thought Merlin possessing magic was strange enough, but now he apparently had a brother who had spent time in a mental facility. The coldness radiating from Merlyn made him so different from his Merlin. Arthur could understand why Merlin would keep this brother of his a secret because there was undeniably something wrong with him.
Arthur also wondered what the reasoning was for the two of them to have virtually the same names. Why had Merlin’s mother given her two children the same name but just with a slightly different spelling? That must have gotten confusing fast.
“Oh, well…let’s see…there’s delusions of grandeur, obsession, being largely devoid of empathy, and my favorite: homicidal tendencies. You know, all the good stuff,” Merlyn said casually. “And now I’m going to kill you,” he declared.
Before Arthur could even think to pick up his fallen sword, he was rooted to the spot. Merlyn had put some type of freezing spell on him that prevented him from moving his arms and legs.
“You don’t know me. What have I ever done to you?” Arthur wanted to know while internally trying not to panic.
Merlyn smirked. “I’ve spent two years at an institution for the nutters. What I’ve learned is I don’t need a reason to explain what I do. I just do it.”
He conjured two daggers and pointed the sharp ends at Arthur.
“I’d love to rip your heart out and squeeze it, see the blood spilling out of it,” Merlyn said enthusiastically.
It made Arthur sick to hear someone speak so viciously like that, and he knew then without a doubt that Merlyn wouldn’t feel remorseful at all if he killed Arthur.
Then Arthur realized something. Wait. Happy Thoughts…that psychiatric institution… Merlyn had the capability, Arthur believed, what with his magic to engineer that plague and with his homicidal tendencies…it fit.
“It was you,” he uttered. “You did it. You were at Happy Thoughts. You killed everyone. They’ll find out it was you,” Arthur informed him.
“No, you arse. They won’t. I made a very convincing, very dead body double with my magic. What – you think I didn’t think things through? Just because I was a mental patient doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Arthur said quickly when Merlyn started looking tense, and annoyed.
He waved his hands at the two daggers and sent them flying toward Arthur.
Survival instinct kicking in, Arthur tried his best to move, to overcome the freezing spell on him.
But he couldn’t.
Before the daggers could hit him, Merlin magically teleported in front of him. Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief, but then he was horrified when the daggers pierced Merlin’s abdomen instead.
Merlin grimaced in pain as he collapsed on the stairs.
“Dammit, Merlin. You could have just stopped time,” Arthur said in frustration and worry.
He still couldn’t move. He hated that he couldn’t help Merlin after Merlin had saved him.
He was about to yell at Merlin’s brother when he was startled by the change in attitude by him.
Upon seeing Merlin down and hurt, his brother was distraught and his eyes welled up in tears.
“No, no, please,” Merlyn said desperately. “They weren’t meant for you. I came to see you…please…I love you, I love you.”
He fell to his knees and he petted his brother’s hair, kissing him on the lips. “I’ll fix you,” he promised Merlin.
Merlin’s brother pulled out the daggers from Merlin and then he angrily threw the offending weapons behind him.
“The spell on Arthur…” Merlin said, coughing up blood as he did so. “Remove it.”
“But it’s his fault. I don’t want to,” his brother said plaintively, sounding childlike as he protested.
“Hurting him upsets me,” Merlin continued in earnest. He grasped his brother’s hand, but his grip was decidedly weak as he suffered from blood loss from his injury.
The spell that kept Arthur frozen in place remained as unfortunately, Merlin’s attempt at aiding him fell on deaf ears.
Merlin’s brother graced Arthur with a smug smile. He appeared inordinately pleased that he had the upper hand here while Merlin was fading away as he succumbed to blood loss.
Merlyn shushed his brother, and he reassured him that he would take care of him and not to worry. He placed his hand over Merlin’s brow and his eyes glowed golden as he said a spell to put Merlin to sleep. Judging by Merlin closing his eyes and his breathing slowing down, Arthur could only assume that was the spell’s purpose.
He gently shifted Merlin off the stairs and on to a mattress he’d conjured on the floor of the lower level. Merlyn had a pillow at one end for Merlin’s head to rest on.
He kissed Merlin again, but on his forehead this time.
“Are you going to magically heal him?” Arthur asked Merlyn.
He hoped that the deep and somewhat disturbing affection Merlin’s brother had for Merlin would translate to Merlin being healed.
Merlyn whipped his head around. “Would you shut up?” He demanded. “You have the most irritating voice I’ve ever heard. And you don’t fool me. You still think I’m stupid, so you can fuck off and shut up,” he ordered Arthur.
“I honestly don’t think that,” Arthur tried to defend himself.
But answering Merlyn had been the wrong thing to do as he fisted one hand, directing it at Arthur, and a moment later, Arthur found that he had lost his voice.
“Now you can properly shut up,” Merlyn declared, a dark pleasure in his voice as he embraced the power he had.
Arthur could only glare at him.
Unperturbed, Merlyn returned his attention back to his brother, placing his now glowing hands over the abdomen area that had been damaged.
Arthur wondered if this was what his Merlin could have been like. He couldn’t bear to think of it. He was torn between being grateful for finally seeing what Merlin had been hiding from him and wishing he had never learned the twisted truth. He had always thought there was something he was missing about Merlin…and this was it, this dark mirror version of him. Arthur now wondered if that day two years ago when Merlin had been so upset and frustrated had to do with his brother being put in the mental institution.
But why had Merlin sent his brother off to a mental facility only two years ago? Why not earlier than that? Arthur doubted that Merlyn’s mental issues could’ve cropped just two years ago. Whatever was wrong with him seemed like a lifelong illness…not that Arthur was an expert on psychological illness, but the pure hatred in Merlyn’s eyes when he looked at Arthur and then the obsessive affection he had for his brother seemed to be an indelible part of his screwed up personality. There was no way it had inexplicably developed only two years ago.
Merlin had moved in with Arthur two years ago though. What if Merlin’s brother had taken issue with Merlin moving forward with his life? That helped to explain why Merlin’s brother hated Arthur. Arthur was Merlin’s ticket away from his past of dealing with a brother who was far too affectionate with him and maybe a bit possessive as well. And so Merlin had put his brother in a mental institution to try to make an official break with his past.
But Arthur was getting ahead of himself. Being frozen in place and being unable to speak was making him think too much.
Yet his conclusion made sense in his mind. He needed Merlin to fill in the missing pieces for him though.
Once Merlyn was finished healing his brother, he stood up and faced Arthur. Unfortunately, Merlin was still under the sleeping spell his brother had put on him. Arthur was on his own now.
“I think I should step this up,” he decided.
He conjured a gun and he pointed it at Arthur.
Arthur still was denied his ability to speak, so he could say nothing as he stood frozen at the wrong end of a gun.
Merlin’s brother smiled coldly and pulled the trigger.
And Arthur didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when a bullet didn’t come speeding out of the barrel. Instead it was the word, ‘Bang’ written in black on white triangular paper. Like a fake gun prop used for laughs.
Merlyn magically froze at the same moment.
Merlin had woken up. Arthur saw his eyes glowing golden and his hand had been outstretched. He had stopped his brother from killing Arthur again.
Wearily, Merlin stood up and he gave Arthur an apologetic look. “I’m really sorry about this. It’s too much to handle for you, I know. Accepting my magic is one thing, but I understand if you can’t deal with my brother being – well – you saw how he is. I can use my magic to make you forget about me completely… maybe, yes, it’ll be better for you that way. I can’t ask you to accept all of this. I’m sorry. If you want to leave now, I understand.”
Arthur couldn’t believe that Merlin was so ready to give up on their relationship. They had been together four years now, and just like that, just because Merlin’s brother was a bit of a psychopath, Merlin planned to end their relationship, to Obliviate Arthur.
Sure, it was a shocking revelation to learn about Merlin’s brother who wanted to kill Arthur, but he only needed time to think things over. That was all. The drastic action wasn’t necessary.
But first, Arthur really needed his voice back and the ability to move his limbs again.
When he didn’t answer Merlin, or move at all for that matter, Merlin finally remembered that the spells on Arthur needed to be removed. He had been so worried about how Arthur would take this whole mess with his brother that he had forgotten about it.
Merlin waved his hand at Arthur to lift the enchantments off him.
“Thanks,” Arthur said as he flexed his fingers as if to prove to himself that he was free of the spell.
Merlin bit his lip. “Um…you’re welcome. I expect you’d like to leave then? I could have you forget about me and you can move on with your life in peace. I don’t mind. I’d understand. It’s just that he’s still my brother – well technically he’s not my brother, but he accepts that and to everyone, it’s easier to explain it that way. No one believes in magic these days after all…” Merlin trailed off, his words running away from him. He continued on before Arthur could speak, “--Anyway, I’m sorry, but Merlyn’s still family and he’s my priority now. So if you can’t deal with this and you want to end things with me – I completely understand, but no matter what, I need to focus on my brother now. He comes first.”
Part Two
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