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Merlin/SPN: As You Wish
Title: As You Wish (1/1) [Merlin/Supernatural crossover]
Author: dk323
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, Merlin/Morgana, Sam, others
Spoilers: No -- During Arthur’s reign as King (Gwen is not alive in this AU)
Disclaimer: The show Merlin is property of the BBC. The show Supernatural is property of The CW and Eric Kripke. No money being made.
Summary: It was an honorable cause.
A/N: I have written more in this universe, but this fic could stand on its own. I’m planning to write how the whole thing went down (what led to this AU). I would probably call this a minor crossover – it’s like “Merlin” getting into a fight with “Supernatural” and “Merlin” winning if that makes sense. ;-)
~ * ~
It was not too long after dinner that they got into a heated argument, worse than the other disagreements that they had in the past. This time, a life was at stake and the risk – the risk set them both on edge.
Merlin slammed his fist down on to the table. He said fiercely, “No, you can’t, Arthur,” he looked Arthur in the eye, all steely determination. “It’s my fault Morgana is doing this in the first place.”
Arthur looked for all intents and purposes, calm and composed. Merlin knew better – he could see the tight line of his mouth, and the affected look in his eyes. The tension passing over his face, fleeting, but Merlin knew him well enough to catch all these looks. He was never fooled.
“It’s simple, Merlin,” Arthur said, peering carefully at him. His fingers danced on the table in the rapidly darkening hall. Shadows shifted across the floor, haunting, eerie. “You’re in no condition to seek her out and something has to be done. We can’t allow your son to die.”
“Arthur, you don’t know what she’ll ask of you. For a life, a life must be taken away,” Merlin firmly reminded him.
Arthur gave him a piercing look. “Yes, I fully understand the sacrifice that must be made. I still plan to go ahead with it.”
“Why? You don’t have to do this. It’s asking too much of you. Are you willing to sacrifice someone’s life for--”
Arthur put up a hand. “Do not try to convince me, Merlin. I have made my decision. If you want to stop me, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Merlin’s eyes flashed a dark gold before being replaced by a stormy blue hue. “I won’t let you do this!”
Arthur pushed his chair away from the table roughly. He stood up, looking down at the court sorcerer, a barely restrained look in his eyes. “He’s your son! Your only son – surely you would do anything for him?”
“Yes, but this is too much! Sometimes, death just has to be accepted…”
“Well, I will not accept it in this case. You know his importance. He’s the only one I would trust to take your place once my son is king. He has to live.”
Now Merlin stood up as well, his hands grasping the table’s edge so tightly that his knuckles went white with the effort. “Morgana knew this!” He pointed out forcefully. He was shouting. “She knows all this – and you’re playing right into her trap!”
Arthur sighed and he sat back down, a weary expression settled on his face. “If you will stop me, I will have no choice.”
Merlin looked at him with grim determination. “If you must, your majesty.”
Arthur appeared to relent, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. He looked taken aback. “Merlin, are you sure?”
Merlin gave a stiff nod. “Yes, Arthur.”
The king had a pained look flash upon his face, briefly, and then it passed. This had never happened before – not to Merlin and yet, now there was no going back.
“Guards! Take him to the containment room.”
The two guards in the hall took hold of Merlin on each side and took him away.
Any servant passing by that room pretended not to hear the screams coming from inside its walls.
Because in that room, there was a special enchantment on it that caused the magic contained inside any magic-user to attack the person from within. The magic, so depended on and cherished, suddenly became the enemy, the villain.
Merlin knew this very well. He was the one who had enchanted the room, so that any magic-user who was deemed a threat to Camelot would be confined there before their trial…
And now it was being used against him because he could not let Arthur follow through with his plan. There was a time when he had been more than willing to sacrifice himself to save Arthur’s life, to seek help from the Old Religion, from Nimueh; but that time was now passed.
Merlin knew better. But Arthur did not understand this. He was blinded to the gravity, the weight of what he was risking.
And yet, at the heart of it, Merlin felt the guilt deep down in his bones that he had not been the one to take that risk without thought. But the time for letting emotion, the sheer force of desperation overcoming rational thought, was past. He couldn’t live like that.
And yet, this was his son, his ten-year old son, after all. But he couldn’t bear it – to live the rest of his days knowing that another person was dead so that his son could live. Merlin couldn’t live with that knowledge.
The lines between right and wrong were so often blurred, but in this case, this trap, this game…the line was clear.
Merlin still felt the guilt settle on him though, but he wouldn’t let it win. He just couldn’t.
It had all been for Arthur’s sake, in the very beginning. The reason was an honorable one, a true cause. But Merlin should have seen the ugly side, he should have known, understood what would happen.
But even then, Merlin thought, he probably would have let it happen. Because he would do anything for Arthur, anything…no price was too high.
~ * ~
“Where is my father?” Myrddin asked at a whisper, his voice strained and weak.
Arthur sighed. He sat down at the chair by the boy’s bedside.
“He can’t be here right now. He’ll see you soon, I promise you.”
“I’m going to die, right? No one has been telling me anything. But I know how I feel and--”
“Myrddin, you’re not going to die. Don’t even consider that thought for a moment.”
“But – how do you know?”
He ruffled the boy’s dark hair affectionately. “Don’t dwell on it any further. Just work on getting better, all right?”
The boy gave a small nod, smiling at him.
Arthur smiled back at him and then left the room, his son, Peter, waiting by the doorway.
“Hello, Father,” he said, looking up at him.
He smiled at his son and patted him on the head. “Go on, you can see him.”
His son went passed him and Arthur closed the door behind him, though he caught Myrddin grinning when he had sighted Peter.
The two of them were both ten years of age, Myrddin older by just a few months. Peter and Myrddin had grown up together in the castle. As such, they were close friends from what Arthur had observed between the two of them. He did not deny he encouraged it, Merlin as well. After all, Peter would need a trusted person by his side to advise him when he would be king. And that couldn’t just be anyone.
Arthur made sure Myrddin never saw his mother, so he wouldn’t be under her unsavory influence. Merlin went along with it, but Arthur could sense even now, the warlock’s unease, his reluctance on that matter. All the same, Arthur felt that Merlin was being diplomatic about it—ever the court advisor. As of late, Merlin had worked with great fervor as reports of Morgana’s movements were getting more worrisome by the day.
With that last thought, Arthur headed to the stables. He had a destination in mind and a deal to make.
~ * ~
The next day:
“It was magic,” Peter said, convinced. He tossed an apple at Myrddin’s head.
Without so much as asking, he took a seat on Myrddin’s bed – smirking just a little when the dark-haired boy froze the apple before it hit his face.
“Right, I’m sure it was,” Myrddin answered him. “Magic isn’t the solution to everything. Maybe I just – got better?”
Now Myrddin looked unsure of himself. He bit into the apple, deep in thought.
“Oh! Says the magician! Don’t deny it. You can’t lie to me.”
“I hate that word -- ‘magician’ – told you not to call me that.”
Peter just shook his head and Myrddin scooted over so that the blonde could lie down beside him.
Peter turned to him. “Saw them not too long ago. By that room father refuses to speak about. They were leaving the room, though Merlin looked a right mess. He could barely stand up – he had to lean heavily on father. My guess is there’s something really bad in that room. To make Merlin look like that, it must be something downright ghastly…”
“Huh,” Myrddin said. “The one time I asked about that room, my father’s eyes darkened and he told me never to ask about it again. So I never did.”
“Well, we will find out eventually. They can’t keep it from us forever. I’ll be king one day after all. It wouldn’t do to not know what every room in this castle is used for.”
Myrddin gave a long sigh. “I fear for Camelot when that day comes.”
“Oh, shut up!” Peter shot back, shoving him good-naturedly.
After that, their talk shifted into lighter topics.
~ * ~
Arthur rubbed his face, feeling exhausted. It had been a trying day. Once he had reached Merlin’s chambers, and got him into bed, the warlock had fallen asleep almost immediately.
He had no physical injuries, all of it was magical and so only Merlin’s magic could heal him. Of course, this was made more difficult by the fact that Merlin was not in his best state at the moment. His own magic had torn him apart in that blasted room. Merlin needed time to recuperate, to rest before his magic could return to full strength and heal him from the magic-inflicted wounds.
But that still made Arthur wish that part of it could be physical. That he could see the blood, the wounds, the cuts…that he could help to bandage them up rather than just sitting by Merlin’s bed and watching as he slept, helpless.
He could see the slight crease in his forehead as Merlin moaned wretchedly, clearly sounding in pain.
Arthur kept reminding himself that Merlin had agreed to this. He had been adamant, stubborn in his decision to stop Arthur.
And Arthur wouldn’t let him to do that. He wouldn’t allow his plans for his kingdom’s future crumble and fall apart due to the vindictive actions of the one woman, the one sorceress who tried to tear them apart.
The thing was, Arthur couldn’t really recall what Morgana’s problem was with him. Yes, he knew that he had taken her son – Merlin’s son, he corrected – away from her by force. Without her consent.
But Morgana didn’t even try to see it from Arthur’s point of view. She didn’t understand the delicate matter, the need to make sure the future was set on the right path.
He tried not to dwell on the thought that if the child had not been Merlin’s, but a product of Morgana and most likely another magic-user, then Arthur wouldn’t have spared him. The child would have been dead by now.
He was certain that Morgana knew this, but he was also sure that there was something else to her need for vengeance.
Since his wife, Mary, had died a few years ago, the situation had gotten more strained. He wasn’t sure why. It was like the dam was beginning to break, and everyone was rushing to escape before it toppled over them.
Arthur could tell Merlin was keeping something from him. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but Arthur had a feeling it was connected with Morgana’s unknown desire for vengeance, to wreak havoc and destruction. Arthur could see it in Merlin – in that odd look he sometimes directed at Arthur’s son, Peter.
He wasn’t sure how to describe the look. Accusation? Maybe regret?
When he questioned Merlin on the matter, Merlin said he had no clue what Arthur was talking about.
But Merlin was a bad liar, Arthur knew that very well.
He also knew a fight that he couldn’t win. Merlin never gave in and never told him.
And the one thing Arthur really didn’t like was a secret being kept from him. Especially when he was absolutely certain that it was a secret involving him and his family.
~ * ~
Merlin woke up slowly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He saw that Arthur was seated in a chair beside his bed. His head was bent, hands clasped together, his posture thoughtful, weary. He looked up when Merlin spoke.
“Arthur,” he said softly, reaching out his hand toward him.
Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand and held it tightly.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmured.
Merlin shook his head, but he spoke gently, “Don’t, Arthur, please don’t. I asked for this. I couldn’t let you go through with it.”
“Promise me you won’t ask that of me again. I can’t bear it. Merlin, you don’t know how much--”
“I won’t,” Merlin whispered. Arthur looked at him, appearing uncertain. “I promise I won’t.”
“Swear it,” Arthur said firmly.
“I swear it,” Merlin told him solemnly. He moved Arthur’s hand so that it was placed over Merlin’s heart.
Then Merlin sighed, knowing what he had to ask next.
“You saw her? You made the deal?”
Arthur nodded; a defiant look in his eyes as his answer.
Merlin didn’t have the energy to be angry at him. He felt a dizzying relief at the fact that his son would be all right; for a moment the terrible cost forgotten…
“What did she ask for, Arthur?” Merlin asked.
“It doesn’t matter. The important thing is your son is alive and well.”
“What did she want, Arthur?” Merlin repeated, more insistent this time.
Arthur looked tired all of a sudden, worn down. “Another child. A child for a child.”
“Oh,” Merlin said. Of course, Morgana would do it that way – logical, calculating.
Then Arthur looked at him with great interest, though he attempted to hide it as mere curiosity. But Merlin knew better. “And she also told me something you should know. Or maybe you already know.”
Arthur forced Merlin to look at him and he said carefully, “Morgana said that, “Peter is protected. He will not be harmed.” Do you have any idea what she meant by that, Merlin?”
Merlin tried to school his reaction into a calm one, but he couldn’t help his eyes widening a bit at the question. He was certain Arthur caught it. “No, I--” He tried to answer in vain.
But Arthur interrupted him.
Arthur shook his head. “Wrong answer. I want to know right now. I won’t have you keeping secrets from me.”
Merlin couldn’t tell Arthur – it was for his own good. If Arthur knew, he would take issue with it, Merlin was sure.
So, he tried shifting the talk into another direction.
“A child is going to die, Arthur! This is not the time,” Merlin forcefully reminded him.
Arthur was about to say something, but then there was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” Arthur said, inwardly groaning at the person’s rotten timing.
A servant came into the room. “Apologies, your majesty, for disturbing you. I was told to inform you that Princess Adelaide has taken ill unexpectedly…” He told him solemnly.
Merlin gave Arthur a Look. “You should go,” he told him firmly.
Arthur sighed and he stood up to leave. The servant followed after Arthur who turned to give one last look at Merlin, but his head, resting on the pillow, was turned away from Arthur.
Merlin didn’t see him.
~ * ~
“Well, it was lucky he had a spare child then. I’m not sure what would have happened,” Morgana said.
She took a seat in the chair by Merlin’s bed, without him even asking her to.
He had fervently hoped she wouldn’t have come, but Morgana never seemed to mind the risk she was undertaking by appearing in Camelot.
“Adelaide was not a spare child! I don’t know why you’re here. You know how dangerous it is. If Arthur knows you’re here…”
“Oh, Merlin. You wouldn’t betray me, would you? Well, you already have, but I’ve made my peace with it.”
“Morgana, just go! Please!” He pleaded with her.
She leaned toward him. “I was thinking. We should have a ‘spare child’ of our own. I’ve been feeling lonely…”
“Go find someone else!” Merlin said sharply, frustrated. “And leave me alone.”
“How is my son doing? Myrddin?” She asked, in need of reassurance. Merlin could safely say that the only person she truly cared about was her own son. It worried him more than touched him because he knew she would try anything to get her son back.
“You can’t see him. It’ll never happen.”
Morgana gave him an incredulous look. She asked innocently, “I can’t even ask how he’s doing? If he’s all right? Really, Merlin. He’s my son, too.”
“He’s fine,” Merlin gritted out.
“Oh thank you,” she remarked with a hint of sarcasm. “That’s nice to know.”
“Why are you here, Morgana?”
“You would be nicer to me if you knew about the information I could give you.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a threat to Peter. You should be on the lookout for it or actually, someone. From the future, so it should be easy to sense. Time travel is always so loud; you can feel it coming from miles away. That is, if you’re magic yourself…”
“Thank you, Morgana,” He said and he honestly meant it. “I appreciate it. Now you really must go…”
Morgana started to speak again. “You and Arthur--” She began; a smug, knowing look in her eyes. Merlin wished he could wipe it off of her face.
But Merlin gave her a sharp look. He had had enough.
“Abeo ire!” He shouted, his hand, palm open, directed at her.
And Morgana was gone.
~ * ~
“Hello, Sam,” Merlin greeted him, his tone cold, on guard.
“Where am I?” Sam asked.
“This is my room. I did a little trick, you see. A detour. You really think you could just snatch him under my watch? You forget who I have on my side.”
“I’m dealing with the apocalypse, damnit! Don’t you get it? I don’t care that you had the angels’ consent! It’s Armageddon, the end of the world! Dean is our only hope – he’s the only one who could defeat Lucifer!”
“He was,” Merlin corrected him. “And the angels said they had a backup plan, an option B. It’s none of my concern that they chose not to tell you.”
Sam approached him, the anger radiating off of him. “I let you take him! I told him about you and he came! And you just – TOOK him! My brother!”
“He was sixteen. He was old enough to understand. Old enough to give proper consent,” Merlin said calmly, taking a seat in a chair while Sam, who was much taller since the last time Merlin saw him at the age of 11, paced back and forth in agitation.
Sam stopped his pacing to glare at him. “Oh yeah. I’m sure you told him the whole truth – painted him a nice picture. What did you tell him? That he’d be goddamn royalty? That he’d have an easy life?”
“You don’t know what would have happened to him. I was doing him a favor.”
“A favor?! You fuckin’ killed him!”
“He did not feel pain, Sam. He died in peace, without suffering. I gave your brother a new life. And he was needed. Camelot was in danger of falling. But I doubt you would understand,” Merlin finished with a sigh.
“What exactly did you do to him? I could never figure that out,”
“Here, let me show you,” Merlin said, feeling it necessary to make him fully understand what had happened.
He flicked his wrist and two images appeared in front of Sam – the first was of Dean, at sixteen years of age – the last time Sam had seen him – and then a pregnant woman who Sam found to be a startling likeness to his mother.
“I took his soul and moved it--”
“You moved it?” Sam uttered, disbelieving. He stared at him.
“I guess the better term would be ‘transplanted.’ A woman was chosen…”
“Why the hell does she look like my mother?” Sam demanded.
Merlin shrugged. He extinguished the two images with a wave of the hand over them. “There are only certain women who could carry such a soul. She was chosen for the task.”
“So, she’s not her, right? An ancestor maybe? One who looks disturbingly like her.”
“I do not know. It’s a good possibility. I did not choose her though, so I am not the person to ask.”
“Then who did choose her?” Sam pressed.
“A Seer – she took care of it.”
“All right,” Sam accepted the answer for which Merlin was grateful for. He really didn’t want to think about Morgana at the moment.
“And so a baby with your brother’s soul was carried by this woman and in short, Dean was reborn in Camelot.”
“And his name? He has a different name, doesn’t he?”
Merlin nodded. “His name is Peter.”
Sam had a determined look in his eyes. “I want him back.”
Merlin tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, mildly amused at how ridiculous his request sounded.
“He’s ten years old now, Sam. He’s not Dean anymore. He’s not your brother. He’s another person entirely. Though he may have similarities to your brother, imagine what will happen to him if you just take him from this time? He wouldn’t survive.”
“Culture shock,” Sam muttered.
“Yes, I assure you that you are hardly capable of handling him. This is the life he has known – the life of a prince, the future king of Camelot. You will destroy him if you force a life he does not understand and furthermore, can not understand.”
Sam bristled, frustrated at his inability to do anything. He had to grudgingly agree with Merlin, who was he to subject a kid – the thought that his previously older brother was now just a 10-year old kid felt wrong – to that kind of a shock? It wasn’t right. An army of therapists wouldn’t be able to help him.
Hell, Sam knew that even before Dean ‘died’, he had carried a heavy burden on his shoulders, losing his childhood years in the need to look after Sam, be who dad wanted him to be; so that by the age of 16, Dean had grown up far too fast and had sacrificed his own wants and needs for the sake of him and dad. A shrink's field day, no doubt.
Maybe it was a good thing that he got a second chance at life and got reborn as an honest-to-god prince. Sam remembered how Dean pretended to be a total jerk, always ready to get his ego stroked; but it was all just an act for him. He was the most selfless person Sam had ever known.
The problem with Dean was that he cared too much, too deeply. But he only let a few people in. Sam could see how it all could have gone down: Merlin had told Dean of how much he was needed, how much Camelot needed him. That if the kingdom of Camelot fell, the future would be at stake. That something had gone horribly wrong and King Arthur needed an heir, a son…
A guarantee of a bright future.
Merlin hadn’t told Sam this, of course. He had to get creative and finally, an angel had coughed up and told him what the deal was. Why Dean had been taken away…
“Sam?” Merlin said, shaking the other out of his thoughts. Once he had gained Sam’s attention, he continued, “You can’t come here ever again. I will not allow you to. I can’t have you disrupting things for no good reason. He will stay here.”
“Can I see him? Peter?”
Merlin shook his head. “He’s not the same person. He’s not your brother. I don’t know what you hope to gain from seeing him…”
“Fine. I’ll just go. I shouldn’t have even bothered,” Sam said.
“How did you get here? Who helped you?”
“An angel transported me. I blackmailed him – he was forced to do it.”
And before Merlin could even ponder how exactly you could ‘blackmail’ an angel, Sam was gone. Merlin checked to make sure he was, in fact, not here in Camelot anymore. Feeling satisfied, he left his chambers.
~ * ~
“Merlin,” Arthur said, looking at him from where he stood in front of the fireplace in his room.
“How is your daughter?” He inquired, moving closer to Arthur.
“She passed away not long ago. While you were… occupied.”
And now Arthur was giving Merlin a questioning look.
“I would tell you, Arthur, if I could. But you’re not supposed to know. It wasn’t a part of the deal,” Merlin explained to him, feeling desperate to get this point across to him.
“What deal?”
“Arthur. I can’t.”
Arthur just looked at him, a searching gaze in his eyes.
“I – you know, I love you. I would do anything for you.” Merlin said earnestly, wanting to ease Arthur's mind.
Arthur sighed. “You’re hopeless, Merlin. Do you know that?”
And then suddenly, Arthur closed the distance between him and Merlin and kissed him.
They just managed to reach the bed, their hands making quick work at removing the impediments to skin.
Despite his words, Merlin was certain that he would tell him one day. It always tore at him to keep secrets from Arthur.
But for tonight, they just took comfort in one another.
It would have to do.
~ * ~
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Link to sequel: http://dk323.livejournal.com/72586.html