#after he dies merlin keeps the book of lance's work under his bed and never tells anyone because they hadn't noticed then | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

innocentfighter · 6 years

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Rise Chap 1

Very much a draft of an original story, I mentioned it a couple of days ago. So this is the current first chapter. Read at your pleasure, and if you have feedback please feel free to share it.

Oddly enough, my last coherent thought before being struck by the violently pink Cadillac was that this was a pretty ironic death. I could see the headlines now LARPer Taken Out by Modern Technology. Which, in my defense, it was a professional hobby, I won an international competition. The car hit me and I found that I didn't particularly care that they would mislabel my epithet.

It hurt for a second. I felt the impact and the feeling of flight and then I was tumbling down the hill. Consciousness clung onto me like spider silk, and I knew my arms were flopping wildly as I fell but I couldn't feel it. Dying actually sucked, go figure.

Awareness came back to me when I landed the winter-chilled pond. I tried to move my arms to struggle to the surface but I couldn't. The leather jacket I had worn trapped the water and kept dragging me down.

Down.

I don't remember what happened exactly. Black was dancing on the edge of my vision and I knew I was breathing in water but I couldn't do anything to stop it. It stopped being a downward movement and I was going up... or it was getting brighter.

Don't go into the light, Artie!

Suddenly, I was looking at the moon and seeing more stars than I could ever hope to count. It was bright enough that there wouldn’t be a need for lanterns. How could humans ever take something like this away?

The breath left my lungs, absolutely stunning.

This was the afterlife.

“I saw it over there!”

Ghosts? Awesome.

“The Lake? Could The Lady want something?”

“Perhaps a new quest,” the voice grew in intensity, “oh, gods.”

“Are you alright, Merlin?”

Merlin? I couldn’t move my head to see the speakers, they were likely in the clearing now. A feeling stirred in my chest, my heart felt as though it was being squeezed. Might be the trauma.

“By the gods! It cannot be!” Merlin spoke softly.

They leaned over me, tawny-brown hair flipped out at every angle and gray eyes that shone brighter than the moon filled my vision. It was a familiar face as if I’d passed them on the street or known them in childhood.

Merlin turned around, “Lance! It’s Arthur!”

“Impossible!”

I agreed with Lance. There shouldn’t be visions after death. Death was final.

My vision blurred for a few seconds, enough time for the second speaker to walk into its field. Even in my limited view, I could tell Lance was big, larger than most of the guys I fought with on a daily basis. He was easily over six feet tall. He leaned over me and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him. His eyes reminded me of deer in two ways: the soft wariness and their color, a dark brown that matched his skin.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he breathed, “it is him. How?”

There was a pause as Merlin flitted around me like a bird, not touching and deeply unsettled before they spoke, “do not ask, accept it for the blessing that it is.”

Lance inclined his head, “He is injured. Let us treat his wounds and then we will learn his story.”

I wanted to protest. Moving a person with a (possible) spinal injury was a no-no, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I couldn’t get any words out. There was no telling what could happen if I let them take me to their base, although I doubted it mattered in the long run. This injury would eventually kill me without enough medical interference.

Merlin finally stilled on my right side. They crouched down and placed their hands on my chest and muttered some foreign tongue. Lance moved so that his hands were under me, one on my back and the other under my knees.

How humiliating, I groaned.

The pair seemed to have taken it as a sound of pain. Merlin halted their chanting and Lance looked down concerned.

“Why is he in pain? I see no gashes or punctures?”

“A blunt weapon perhaps or he could have fallen. I wonder where his armor and Excalibur are?” Lance replied.

Part of me prayed that this was, in fact, some trauma-induced coma dream that was using things that I knew well, Medieval Europe and combat as a guide back to myself. This was just keeping my brain active while they relieved the pressure in my head. How could anyone mistake me, Artie Penn, as Arthur Pendragon?

Their conversation had apparently continued without my knowing it because when Merlin spoke again, I couldn’t follow how the previous conversation had lead to the current question.

“Why would he spend his time doing something like that instead of coming back to us?”

“Why did Arthur do anything he did?” Lance’s face was unreadable and also fuzzy.

Somehow I knew that he was hurt, his eyes shimmered ever so briefly. It made my heart twinge and I shuddered. If this was some dream, I had to stop the realism from drawing me in and preventing me from returning to my life. Although, if I died here I would probably die in the real world.

For the first time, Lance seemed to remember that I was there. He looked down at me and there was a minute quirk of his lips, “rest my King.”

And I did.

Between the journey from the lake shore to wherever it was their base was I had flashes of lucidity. One moment we were traipsing through the trees and then we were on open plains. Merlin and Lance were talking, the words distorted and sounded as if they were spoken through the water. I struggled weakly against the rising heat of my body and fell back into unconsciousness.

The world stopped bouncing and various strips of plate stopped jabbing my side. I took the time to try and reorient myself, certain that we wouldn’t be moving again for some time. It was low light and I had to assume that we were inside due to a lack of stars. Certainly, it was an upgrade to sand, but not knowing where I was had me concerned. Strange people thinking I was King Arthur had me concerned.

This was all very concerning.

When I was finally lucid, I could feel the sweat that had soaked into the pillow and sunlight was streaming through an open window. The scent of wildflowers filled the room and I went to turn my head a twinge of pain shot down my spine, it didn’t move. My lungs seized. There was a moment where I was on the outside of my body looking in, my immobile body.

Merlin had come in during my moments of panic and had started to speak, “I’m glad to see that the fever has finally broken, sire.”

I sighed, my throat was still too dry to even begin to speak.

“With the fever gone you’re probably feeling better,” Merlin said.

That was a point of contention, I didn’t feel like I was going to sweat myself to death but I couldn’t move anything. On the other hand, I didn’t feel anything. Instead of inviting Merlin to talk more I moved my gaze to stare at the stone ceiling. It was dark gray and cracking in some places. A spider vanished back into one of the crevices.

“Sire?” Merlin stood at the foot of the bed.

I glanced at them and noticed for the first time that they were small. The clothes they wore were overlarge and only seemed to highlight their petite structure. Now that it was mostly light, I could see the barest hints of gray streaking their hair. They wore a blue sash, which stood out against the varying shades of brown, that had a bottle hanging off of it.

“I’ll be starting the healing on your injuries,” they grimaced, “it could be uncomfortable. Your back seems badly damaged.”

My eyes shut to ward off a headache. Merlin seemed to be the ruler of understatements.

“The sleeping draught is nearly finished.”

I knew medieval medicine, what there was to know. This would do more harm than good, but I didn’t see an alternative other than dying. I doubted this would be a typical leech treatment if this was Merlin, at least the storied magically inclined Merlin I read in old books. Why is this dream so vivid? Are all coma dreams like this?

Merlin moved back over to the desk and held up a small bottle filled with a red-brown mixture. They uncorked it and moved back to my side.

“I’m going to lift you up sire. I apologize if this causes you any pain.”

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t. The weird thing was it felt like it should, I was only lifted up a few inches and my lips parted on their own. The bottle rested on my lips before Merlin tilted enough that the draught could drain into my mouth. I swallowed it. I can’t say that I’ve had worst tasting things, this tasted like a mix of protein powder and rotten eggs. Vomit rose in my throat but I fought it back down. I’d feel bad if I covered Merlin in sick, they were only trying to help.

The bottle emptied and I was relieved that there wouldn’t be any more of that. Merlin grinned softly, their eyes crinkled in the corner and they looked ten years younger. There was no longer a cracking ceiling behind them but an endless blue sky, their hair was longer.

“Arthur! Merlin! There you are,” Someone called in the distance.

I blinked my eyes several times, the beautiful day fading away into gray to the gentle eyes of Merlin. That had been odd.

“I’ll come back soon when the draught has taken effect.”

Merlin laid me back down and spent a few moments cleaning up their work area before they left the room. The door closed and it became stifling, it was as if all of the fresh air had left with them. There was a strange energy surrounding them, I could only guess that it had something to do with their supposed magic.

With nothing else to do, I looked back up at the ceiling and watched as the spider came crawling back out of its crevice. It began to spin a web, I watched it complete it about halfway before I felt the effects of the sleeping draught.

My dreams were weird(er), but when I awoke the dreams slipped through my consciousness like sand. Voices in my room kept me from opening my eyes. I was too wary to expose myself like that, and learning the situation never hurt anyone. Charging into battle with your arms above your head always got you stabbed in the stomach.

“Lance, Merlin will be in shortly. Rest,” a woman spoke barely above a whisper.

Lance sighed, “I cannot. Not now Gwen.”

The was rustling and thin fingers were threading their way through my hair. I assumed it was Gwen, the hand was small and the touch was light.

“I understand, but you should not run yourself into the ground. We do not know anything that happened to him.”

There was the sound of shifting cloth and footsteps. It seemed like Lance was pacing.

“Do you understand?” Lance didn’t sound harsh, but the words were.

“Gwen, he’s been missing for almost a decade, and now he shows up as if he hasn’t aged a day...”

“Your prayers have suddenly been answered,” she finished for him.

“Yes.”

The bed creaked and Gwen ghosted her fingers down my face,

“To have our King back. It's incredible.”

“Do you mean having Arthur back is incredible?”

Lance made a weird sound, like a pained grunt. Gwen’s laugh sounded like wind chimes.

“Come now, I’ve known you too long. The way you look at him gives you away.”

“There’s nothing to give away.”

My eyes fluttered open at Lance’s tone. His voice was rough.

Gwen slowly retracted her hand. A smile formed on her face that was as bright as the sun. I observed her for a moment, noting the dark black curls that haloed her face, she was as pretty as the stories claimed if this was Guinevere

“Welcome home, Your Majesty.”

Lance stopped his pacing only to change his course to stand next to me. His eyes were wide and there was a tenseness to his shoulders. I weakly managed a smile, it felt awkward but I felt like I had to comfort these two.

“How do you feel?”

“Better,” the raspiness in my voice may have belied that statement.

“That’s good!” Gwen clapped her hands.

Lance’s shoulders loosened. I glanced between them if they were the destined lovers the stories said then their posture gave no indication. Gwen was tilted towards Lance, but he had his arms crossed and faced me directly.

Out of curiosity, I twitched a finger and I felt it move. That was more than promising. Whatever Merlin was doing was working and I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Gwen’s smile lessened and she tilted her head. Lance had moved so that he was leaning against the wall.

“Don’t, not right now. Let him heal,” his hand tightened on his sleeve.

Gwen looked between us for a second, “we should know. What if it happens again?”

“Merlin will be in soon.”

Slowly she raised herself up, giving my hand a squeeze that I didn’t react to. The movement was so fluid I had barely recognized that she had in fact moved. Her face fell completely and she bit her lip. I could tell she cared deeply for Arthur Pendragon.

As Lance opened the door Merlin had reached for it.

“Your Majesty,” Merlin bowed deeply.

“He’s awake,” Lance tossed his head towards me.

Gwen nodded, “and he spoke. It was only one word.”

Merlin’s eyebrow raised as they focused on me, their eyes sparkled like lightning and the phrase lightning-quick mind made so much more sense now. It was as if the other two didn’t exist. I had Merlin looking me over, moving their lips as if they were making mental notes.

“Sire?”

I winced, unable to keep it off my face this time. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to tell them that I wasn’t who they were all hoping me to be.

“If you’re feeling pain then your injuries are healing,” Merlin said cheerfully.

The door closed and I was left alone with Merlin. There was no way that I could keep my immobility a secret but I didn’t know who all knew what.

“My back?” I croaked.

A look of surprise passed Merlin’s face before it turned serious, “I believe it can be restored, though I suspect you’ll have issues with it for the rest of your life.”

It was too much to hope for a full cure, I sighed.

“I’m doing my best, Sire.”

For I moment I debated on closing my eyes and feigning sleep, but I was too awake to even do that. At least this would be a welcomed break in what had become monotony. But where to start?

“I’m sure you are.” Not my best attempt.

Merlin looked a little put out, but perked back up, “if you tell me what caused it then maybe there could be a chance that I can heal it better?”

It was a subtle prod for information. I would’ve done the same thing, the curiosity killing me until I blurted out a question.

“I was knocked down a hill by a metallic something.”

“One of Morgana’s?”

“I don’t know,”

Oh great. Morgana was involved in this disaster of a dream world as well. What’s next telling me that I must lead the army to overthrow her?

“She’s been getting bold in her attacks. It's been a decade since the Battle of Camlann, her claim to the throne is getting more legitimate,” Merlin glanced out of the window wary.

For a moment I could feel the words bubbling in my throat that would tell them that I’m not King Arthur.

“You’re here now. We have a chance to turn this around and save Camelot!”

Merlin’s grin split their face.

The argument died in my throat. I had to tell them, it was the right thing to do. If they put their hope in me their battle would be lost. That was a fact. Still, they looked as though they needed hope, the cracking ceiling and threadbare blankets told me that much.

It’s a dream Artie, none of this matters.

“I can’t lead you.”

“What do you mean you can’t lead us?” Merlin’s voice cracked, “for years you were the one everyone looked to for guidance when Morgana seized the throne everyone rallied behind you! Now suddenly you can’t?”

I sighed, wishing I had enough movement to run a hand through my hair, get up and pace. Do something.

“Merlin, it’s been almost ten years. The people won’t believe in me. I’m injured. I can’t move.”

“Your Majesty, Arthur, your Return was the only thing that kept us fighting this war,” Merlin pursed their lips.

Well. That wasn’t the weight of the world, not at all. One of my classes taught me that sometimes people only need a symbol, but I couldn’t be that. Not ever. King Arthur was King Arthur, there’s no one else like him.

“Lance has been leading all this time,” I didn’t know for sure but it sounded good.

“Yes. He’s a good general, but the most important thing was missing.”

This conversation wasn't going the way I wanted it to. At this rate, I would agree to get on a horse and lead everyone to the palace to take down Morgana right now.

Stop this. Don’t get sucked into this dream world.

So instead I turned my head to regroup. Merlin sensed that the conversation was over and set about doing other tasks.

“I’ll begin the healing incantation now,” Merlin said, “I'm sorry I can't use the draught again. It would lose effectiveness.”

I nodded. Next to me, Merlin started chanting and warmth filled my body for a split second then searing pain raced up my back. It almost felt like I could feel the nerves knit themselves together. I had regained enough movement that I gripped at the mattress below me (straw came out) in order to stop myself from convulsing. Needing something else to focus on I turned my gaze to Merlin.

Their eyes glowed a bronze color and the floor around them turned into some arcane circle. I decided to observe that, the power it expended was incredible. It was about two feet in diameter, with a diamond inscribed in the center and within the diamond was a single symbol that looked like a curly 5 pointed W. The far end of the W looked like it was burning out and moving through the symbol.

Watching it for a few seconds I saw that it was like the fuse of a firework. Burning up the magical energy, and when it was burned out I assumed it meant the healing was done. I couldn’t be sure. The legends never went into detail about Merlin’s magic.

By the time Merlin had finished the sun had faded into dusk and I was breathing hard. My back screamed in pain and my chest was heaving. Merlin didn’t look any better, doubled over by the side of the bed coughing.

“A-Are you alright?”

Merlin jumped up quickly. “I am fine, Your Majesty! Nothing to trouble yourself about. How do you feel?”

“Like...” I paused trying to find a better analogy than hit by a truck, “I was just raked across hot coals.”

“I am sorry. Healing is painful, it speeds up the natural process, and you know the saying it gets worse before it gets better,” Merlin bowed.

Having people bow to me and actually meaning it was a very strange feeling and I vowed never to bow at my friends again. Merlin shifted from side to side and once again I was reminded of a bird.

“I’ll send someone up with something to eat?”

My stomach growled loudly and I grinned sheepishly. I hadn’t realized how hungry I had been. A thought struck me, “how long?”

“About seven nights.” Merlin shrugged.

Seven? How in the hell? They took my silence as a dismissal. Meanwhile, I was left to think about the life that I wasn’t currently living. All my parents would know of me is that I had been hit by a car and was now in a coma. My mother would be heartbroken, and my father would more than likely start a charity for families of victims of car crashes. That’s how they worked.

How was I ever going to wake up from this dream? Would there be clues?

A new person entered the room. He was big as well, taller than me but shorter and less broad than Lance. He had short blonde hair that just barely curled at the edges. Green eyes sparkled mischievously. I raised an eyebrow.

“So it's the truth! You are alive!”

The newcomer moved to set the food on the table and say something else when fast footsteps could be heard coming down the hall.

“Damn,” he breathed, “nothing gets passed that advisor of yours.”

“Gwaine! What do you think you’re doing?” Merlin skidded to a stop in front of the door.

I couldn’t stop the snicker that escaped my lips. Merlin looked disheveled, already messy hair was even more so and their robes hung at odd places. Their mouth was open and finger raised to lecture, Gwaine looked mildly terrified. Quickly he set the food down, bowed and bolted out of the room. There was a second paused and then I was left alone.

“Gwaine! Get back here!”

Were they really the legendary heroes?

I looked at the food left on the table it was a steaming bowl of something. Several minutes later Merlin reappeared breathing heavy.

“Sorry about that, you know how Gwaine is.”

I didn’t, but instead, I made a half-hearted gesture towards the bowl. Merlin nodded and brought it over to me. It didn’t smell good and it didn’t look good, it looked like paper mache. The spoon got stuck in it briefly before it came out. My stomach twisted and I thought about rejecting it saying I wasn’t hungry. But it growled treacherously and Merlin did me the favor of not saying anything.

Being fed as a grown male was mildly uncomfortable but there was no way I’d be able to feed myself. We didn’t say anything, and I choked down the paste. It said a lot about the state of things, I doubt they would’ve given their King something like this unless it was all they had. It was also uncommon to use utensils, but I was grateful hand-feeding would make this unbearable.

Only the barest amount was left in the bowl. Merlin looked pleased that I had eaten that much.

“Would you like to rest? Lance would like to come in,” Merlin said.

I thought about it. Lance was nothing more than a stranger to me, but it would be nice to have the company, “sure.”

Lance stepped into the rooms a few minutes later. He had dressed down into just a cotton shirt and pants. He stood hesitantly at the side before stepping up and pulling the chair beside my bed. I watched him unsure of what to say. Sir Lancelot and King Arthur were good friends, and he would notice that I wasn’t him. But I was tired of just laying in this room all day.

“I heard Gwaine stopped by,” Lance spoke.

“Yes.”

“The rumors that you’re back spread quickly. Gwaine was the first to get wind of the story, the other knights will surely want to see you,” Lance crossed his arms, “Gwen is going to ward them off, but it won’t last long. Though many of them are not present.”

I laughed. The image of seeing Gwen, as lithe as she was stopping knights at least as big as Gwaine was amusing.

“Merlin says that you’re healing well. The best guess is that you’ll be up and about within the next couple of days.”

That would be nice. Merlin hadn’t said anything to me about how they thought that I was healing beyond that I was. The conversation paused and I observed Lance, he was doing the same to me after all. His shoulders had gone back to being stiff and he was rubbing his hands together. He pressed his lips together tightly. The conversation was going into dangerous territory I knew.

‘Camelot has sorely missed you, Your Majesty.”

I swallowed, “has it?”

The look Lance gave me stopped me from talking.

“You are not the same, Sire,” Lance shifted, “whatever happened in the years you were gone has changed you. I can only hope that it wasn’t for the worst.”

He still looked like he was going to talk so I held my tongue. Not sure what I was going to say. Keeping myself quiet was harder than I imagined.

“We needed this. You to come back, the war is nearly won, and it's not in our favor. With you, we can turn the tide.”

Something welled up inside of me at Lance’s distant look, I spoke before I could even fully comprehend that I was, “I can’t remember anything.”

Shit.

Lance didn’t miss a beat, “have you told Merlin?”

“No.” The worse thing about this is I knew why I said it. These people were suffering and they needed something to give them that fighting chance back. I could do something about it.

I need to get back to my actual life.

“Do you want me to,” He made a gesture over his shoulder.

I had thrown him off balance if the wide-eyed look was anything to go by.

“I feel like I need someone else here when I say it,”

He nodded and stepped out of the room. I could hear his footsteps disappearing down the hall. The silence was a blessing for once as I descended into panic. For once staying quiet would’ve been in my favor, but no I had to go and say something. What were they even going to do about my apparent missing memories? And why did everything feel so real?

#IFs original works #I'm not tagging this bc I don't want that many people to read it lmao #but yeah #ask about these children or the story or what have you

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