Archive of Our Own

*****

It started with a photograph.

An old, faded picture with Tintagel, 1989 scribbled on the back. Merlin sat back on his heels, staring at it and trying to glean more details from it. The attic was silent around him, but he could swear he heard the sound of waves crashing against rocks like they were in the photo.

Dimly, Merlin realized that he had been hoping for something like this when he had started packing up his mother’s belongings after her funeral. If he was being perfectly honest, he had been hoping for something like this all his life. Now that he had it, though, he could only see his mother’s smile and remember that he would never see it ever again. He wished he could sink into his mother’s embrace and ask her to tell the story behind her happy smile in the photo, a story she had refused to tell him all his life, his curious questions always deflected with practised ease.

He dug back into the box, hoping, wishing for a letter, a diary — something, anything — to tell that story, but only found a raggedy old scarf and a few seashells.

The roaring in his ears (and how remarkably it sounded like the roaring of a tempestuous sea) was getting louder. Merlin looked around the empty room, it seemed like a cinematic metaphor for how empty his life felt now that Hunith was gone. He could go back to Dublin, continue on with his dreary office job, continue on with his - empty - life. Merlin looked back down at the photograph. With a determined nod, he stood up. He needed to find when the next train was to Tintagel.

*****

Merlin kicked at the sand in frustration. He had been in Tintagel for three weeks now, but he had found nothing he wanted to find.

He had gotten a temporary job tending bar at the hostel he was staying in, The Rising Sun. It paid much less than his previous job in the city, but his bosses were definitely nicer. Well, perhaps nice wasn’t the right word for Gwaine - trouble, would be a better description, flirty, mischievous, roguish, up to no good - that was Gwaine. Gwaine’s partner Lance, on the other hand, was the nicest man Merlin had ever met. Merlin had become fast friends with them. They had offered him a job when they learned what Merlin was trying to do and that he didn’t know how long he’ll be in Tintagel for.

Merlin smiled slightly when he thought back to that particular conversation. It had almost been like Gwaine and Lance had looked at Merlin, then at each other and promptly decided to adopt Merlin.

It was Merlin’s day off, and while he had planned to go to the library and look up the records again, his mind had wandered and his feet had taken him to the beach.

He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. It wasn’t by any means silent — the waves were loud enough to drown out thought, seagulls cackled overhead, and he could even hear traffic. Yet, somehow, it was still peaceful.

Time seemed liquid here, reality but a shimmering curtain. Merlin felt that if he stood still long enough, he would be absorbed into the salty air.

Shaking his head at getting so carried away, Merlin opened in his eyes only to be startled to a stop at the sight that greeted him.

A man — or was it an apparition, Merlin thought to himself — was striding out of the sea, his steps sure and his pace determined. It wouldn’t have been a strange sight, if not for the fact that the man was completely and utterly naked.

Merlin realized his mouth was hanging open and abruptly closed it, but he could not stop staring. The man’s hair glinted golden in the sunlight, water droplets glistened on his skin like diamonds, and oh Merlin wanted to follow their path with his mouth. Behave, Merlin tried to tell his wandering imagination, but he couldn’t help cataloguing the movement of strong muscles stretched beneath sun-kissed skin.

A child’s laughter filtered into his thoughts, startling him out of the gutter his mind had fallen into. Sure enough, when he turned to look, a family with three young children was approaching. Merlin turned back to look at the man, but he either didn’t notice the family or didn’t care, for he was still striding purposefully up the beach.

Merlin knew it was none of his business, but one more look at the family, and he was quickening his steps towards the man who showed no sign of slowing down or covering up.

“Mate!” Merlin called out. Receiving no response, he broke into a run. “Oi!” he shouted again. The man turned his head towards Merlin, eyebrows scrunched in a frown, but continued walking. Merlin huffed in indignation and sped up. He was out of breath by the time he came to a stop right in front of the stranger, hopefully shielding the family from seeing the man’s, well, manhood.

“Will you stop already?” He asked, determinedly keeping his eyes on the stranger’s face. This close, Merlin could see his eyes were a bright blue of a summer sky, and he watched, fascinated, as they turned stormy.

“What?”

The growled question brought Merlin back from his ruminations of whether his apparition theory might not be so far off.

“This is not a ‘clothes optional’ beach, mate,” he said. “You might wanna cover up.”

“I am not your mate.” The man snarled, still showing no signs of modesty.

“Yeah, yeah, we can discuss semantics later,” Merlin said, still out of breath from the short run to catch up to the man. He hunched over and put his hands on his knees to regain his breath, but that action brought him level with a (rather nice looking) cock. He straightened up abruptly, but in that brief moment he had noticed that the man was clutching what appeared to be a piece of cloth in his fist.

A happy squeal had him turning and looking back to see the family again, the father swinging the girl up, all of them still thankfully oblivious to the duo. Shifting his gaze back to the man’s face, Merlin’s eyes widened at the sheer animosity rolling off the stranger.

“Whoa!” Merlin said, backing up a step. “I’m only trying to—”

He was interrupted by a “Mommy, can we get ice cream?” From far too close for his liking.

No time for politeness. “Will you put that on?” Merlin asked the stranger desperately, pointing to the cloth in the man’s hand.

“What?” The man asked again, this time in clear shock, but there was suspicion in his eyes, mixed in with bewilderment and he still made no move to cover himself.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Merlin said. hurriedly stripping off his coat and just draping it over the man’s front, not even trying to decipher the meaning of the complex expressions flashing across his face. “Just keep that on. I’ll go find something for you if you don’t have something to wear left on the beach. I think Lance’s clothes will fit you okay.”

With that he turned and hurried back up the beach, stopping briefly near the family to tell them that an ice cream truck was parked a bit way up the shore — to the delighted cheers of the children and exasperated looks of the adults.

Arthur stared after the strangely striking man, confusion warring with curiosity inside him. He had never heard of a human handing over clothes from their own back. In fact, he’d been taught the exact opposite, that humans would only try to take their pelts away from them.

Strange, he thought. No, he corrected himself, suspicious.

He could see a family not to far away, and guessed that the man had been hiding him from them. By some miracle, they hadn’t noticed Arthur yet. He looked around and saw an outcropping of rocks. Hiding was against his nature, but right now Arthur could admit that retreat seemed like the best option. He watched from behind the rocks as the human who had dared stop him came running back with what looked like a bundle of clothes in his arms.

Intriguing, thought Arthur. Still suspicious, but intriguing.

It would appear he needed more information before he proceeded on his mission. Leon would very likely laugh in Arthur’s face, and both he and Gwen would most definitely scold him, but Arthur was sure they’d help.

*****

Merlin told himself that he was not coming to the beach every chance he got so that he could see that strange (naked) man again. He just enjoyed the solitude and the comfort that the sea gave him. He was most certainly not looking around while trying to look like he was not looking around.

He sighed heavily. This was ridiculous. What was he doing here? He should go back to the city and find another boring job, not run around on wild goose chases. But there was something about this place.

The tide was low, which made some of the rocks form small cliffs down to the sea. It was near sundown and the light cast a magical glow across everything. The rocks seemed a throne that beckoned him to come sit and survey the vast expanse of water.

Merlin shrugged and gave into the utter nonsense his brain was coming up with these days. He sat down, legs dangling over the, albeit small, cliff. He let himself get lost in thought, mind filled with moments he’d had with his mother, questions that have haunted him all his life, images of sun-kissed skin and golden hair, ghostly touches and crooning whispers that were probably just the soft wet wind. So lost in that tangle of questions and emotions was Merlin that he almost didn’t hear the muffled sniffles coming from somewhere below.

Merlin peered down over the cliff, but he could only see the rocks and the water. The tide was coming in, and even the rock he was sitting on would soon be underwater. There couldn’t possibly be anyone down there. Yet the crying, (and yes, the sound had changed to something more heartbreaking) was definitely coming from below him.

Merlin contemplated the slippery rocks for barely a second before he was climbing down. He almost didn’t see the small opening in the wall of rocks, but as his feet splashed down into the water, a terrified gasp gave away the location of whoever was hiding.

“It’s okay,” Merlin said, trying to sound as soothing as possible. “I only want to make sure you are alright.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” came a small, trembling voice from inside the small cave. Merlin realized with a start that it was just a little boy.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Merlin said, trying to stay calm and not freak out, because what the hell did he know about children? “Are you hurt?” He asked, the thought occurring to him.

Merlin waited, but there was no reply. He desperately wished his mother was here. She would know exactly what to do. But she wasn’t, and Merlin felt like that somehow it was his responsibility to make sure that the kid was okay. He seated himself more steadily on the rocks, half in the water, jeans soaked through. He hardly felt the chill though, worry over the little boy chasing away his own discomforts.

“You know, the tide is coming in,” he said conversationally, but there was still no answer, but atleast the crying had ceased.

“I’m Merlin,” he tried.

“Mordred,” came the tiny reply. Merlin nearly cheered at the small success.

“Hi, Mordred. I’m sorry I’m disturbing you in your hiding place, but can you please tell me if you are hurt?” He asked.

Mordred didn’t answer, but Merlin could hear some shuffling and sniffling from inside the cave. Merlin’s worry increased, but he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think he had time to get help before the water level rose and filled the cave Mordred was hiding in. Merlin definitely wouldn’t be able to fit into the cave. He tried to think of what his mother might say.

“You like the sea, don’t you?” He asked and then immediately cringed. God, he was so terrible at this.

“It makes me feel close to my mum,” Mordred replied quietly, surprising Merlin.

“Oh! I’m— My mum… I lost my mum. Just last month,” Merlin said, hoping against hope that he wasn’t making the situation worse by saying exactly the wrong things.

“Father says that she left me because she didn’t want me,” Mordred replied, voice going even smaller towards the end.

Shit.

“I’m sure that is not true, Mordred,” Merlin tried.

“How would you know?” Mordred retorted, but his voice sounded less weak and Merlin could here more scuffling. Soon enough, a tiny head poked out of the cave, followed by the rest of the boy, so small for the amount of anger and anguish blazing in his blue eyes, bright with tears. Eyes that seemed old beyond the boy’s years. Merlin wasn’t good at guessing kids’ ages, but he thought Mordred couldn’t be more that six.

Merlin felt his heart in his throat. What was he supposed to say?

“I don’t know, Mordred,” he answered truthfully. “I don’t know you or your mother, but I know that a mother’s love is unconditional and…” He felt tears well up in his own eyes. He was of no use to this boy. How could he hope to help him when he couldn’t even help himself?

“She always said that she loved me more than all the water in all the oceans,” Mordred whispered quietly, the fight going out of him in an instant as his hands reached down to play with the water.

Merlin latched onto that statement with newfound hope. “See?” He exclaimed.

“But then why would she leave?” Mordred asked, looking up at Merlin imploringly.

Merlin felt his heart break. “I don’t know.”

“Father says it’s because I’m a freak,” Mordred said far too casually.

Righteous anger swirled through Merlin. He wanted to find Mordred’s father and give him a piece of his mind, but Mordred was still looking at him unblinkingly. “You are not a freak,” he told Mordred as determinedly as he could.

Mordred simply continued to stare at him. It was disconcerting to see such an assessing look in the eyes of a child, and Merlin could only hope that Mordred found what he was looking for.

Apparently he did, because in the next instant Mordred flung his hand over the rapidly rising tide. Merlin gasped as a burst of water sprouted upwards, hitting Mordred’s downturned palm before splashing everywhere.

Merlin looked at the child for a moment, then very slowly, so as not to startle Mordred, Merlin reached his own hand out.

It was Mordred’s turn to gasp as the spring of water slowed and separated into streams, flowing onto Merlin’s hand, and danced along his fingers. He let the water play along and up his hand for a moment before he let it slowly flow back into the sea.

When he looked up, Mordred was staring at him in awe. “You… you’re a freak too?” He asked.

Merlin smiled kindly at the little boy. “Neither of us are freaks, Mordred. We have magic. It is a beautiful thing.”

“Magic!” Mordred’s eyes widened. “Can you do more?” He exclaimed, jumping entirely out of his little hiding place and into the water. “Can you teach me?”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh delightedly at the sudden animation of the boy. “Maybe,” he said. “But if we stay here, we’ll both be swallowed up by the tide. Why don’t we go up, hmmm? It’s getting late, and you need to go home!”

Mordred pouted, looking every bit the child that he was. “But I don’t want to go back,” he said.

Merlin gazed at him helplessly. “Won’t your father be looking for you?” He asked.

Mordred’s entire frame seemed to shrink, the excitement leaving him in a rush.

A horrible thought dawned on Merlin. “Mordred,” he asked slowly. “Does your father hurt you?”

Mordred avoided Merlin’s eyes for a moment. Then with a wane smile and a shrug, he scrambled up the rocks, shouting “See you later, Merlin” down before going up, over and out of view.

Merlin stared worriedly after the boy, until the rising tide forced him to climb up the rocks as well. When he reached the top, Mordred was nowhere in sight.

Merlin was consumed with worry over Mordred. He hurried back to the Rising Sun to ask Gwaine and Lance if they knew of a child fitting Mordred’s description. Though the two men seemed to know everyone in town, they were of no help. The most they could tell him was that Mordred was probably the child of one of the fishermen who lived up the coast and kept to themselves.

Merlin wanted to call Child Protective Services, but Lance reminded him that he had no information, not even verbal confirmation of abuse. Merlin felt helpless and at a loss, but he resolved to find Mordred and help him, even if it meant spending every free moment at the beach.

*****

Arthur pulled on what Gwen had called ‘trousers’ up his legs. They were uncomfortable and irritating. He wasn’t going to tell Gwen that, though. That woman had so much on her plate, yet she had somehow found the time and material to make clothes for Arthur, and just in time for his return to land.

He marvelled at her strength and resilience, as anyone in her place would have crumbled by now, but he still wished she had given him some bloody instructions on how all these damn pieces of clothing went. And what was with this ‘tie’ anyway? Why did humans walk around willingly wearing a noose around their necks? And how in the hell was he supposed to tie it without choking himself?

He was about to give up and throw the goddamn tie in the water when a loud snort startled him into looking up. There, before him, stood the man from nine days ago. Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he watched the other man cover his mouth with his hand, clearly trying not to dissolve into laughter.

Arthur glared at him and took a step forward. His ‘shoes’ squelched unpleasantly and he could feel water soaking uncomfortably through the ‘socks’. Water was never supposed to be uncomfortable. Damn these clothes.

The other man seemed to have lost the battle with himself and was laughing outright by that point.

“Something funny?” Arthur asked acidly. He struck a pose that he knew to be intimidating, but it didn’t seem to affect the other man.

“Never say Tintagel isn’t full of surprises,” said the other man, apparently to himself, in between laughs that were not at all adorable.

“You. Shall. Not. Laugh. At. Me,” Arthur growled.

The other man seemed entirely too amused by Arthur’s command, but he stopped laughing, though his smile was just as distracting and annoying. “Sorry, sorry! Oh God, I’m being so rude. I’m Merlin,” the man said and extended his hand.

Arthur’s studies had told him that this was the way that humans greeted each other, so he shook the offered hand. “Arthur,” he replied.

Merlin beamed at him, catching Arthur off guard, and temporarily making him forget that this Merlin had been laughing at him.

Arthur walked determinedly out of the water, trying to ignore the squelching of his shoes and the uncomfortable feeling of coarse sand chafing against his feet. He came to a stop right in front of Merlin, who stood with his lips still quirked up.

“How did you know I would be here today?” Arthur asked.

Merlin seemed caught off guard by the question, or he was a good actor. He simply blinked at Arthur owlishly. “I… didn’t?” he said. “I was just walking along the beach and there you were!”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that! Only this time–” Merlin paused, laughter bubbling out of him again. “Only this time, you’re in a business suit, in the sea!”

Arthur frowned. Gwen wouldn’t have dressed him as a fool, so he knew his outfit was appropriate human wear. But then why was this particularly infuriating human laughing at him?

“And what of it?” Arthur asked, trying to sound confident.

“Did you have a meeting with the fish?” Merlin asked, clearly biting the insides of cheeks. His eyes were merry, and a small dimple was making itself known right below his lips. “Hope that briefcase is waterproof. Ooh wait, are you a spy? Is there a secret underwater hideout?”

Arthur tensed. “What I do and what I wear is none of your business,” he snarled.

“Sorry! Just wondering if it’s always all or nothing with you,” Merlin said, and promptly dissolved into laughter again.

Arthur took a deep breath. He did not come here to be laughed at by (beautiful) men. He had a mission. And he had little time to waste on distractingly high cheekbones, plush lips or the – the human that came with them. With a scathing glance at Merlin, he turned to walk away.

“Do you want me to help you tie your tie?” Merlin’s voice stopped him, a smile still clear in the tone.

Arthur gritted his teeth. He thought of Leon’s warning to not draw unwanted attention to himself and to fit in. He turned on his heel, jutted his chin out, and held out the tie towards Merlin.

Merlin grinned and loped — seriously, loped — over to him and took the piece of cloth from him. He executed a few complicated twists and turns with it before he had it in place. Seemingly satisfied, he patted the Arthur’s chest a couple of times and looked up at his face.

All the while, Arthur stood still, trying to understand the strange feeling that had taken over him at Merlin’s closeness and his touch. When Merlin looked up at him, his breath caught in his throat. Merlin seemed equally affected, if the redness that spread over his face and even his ears was any indication.

Abruptly, Arthur took a step back, turned, and walked away. No one had said anything about the allure of human men. Merlin didn’t seem like a siren, but Arthur knew looks could be deceiving. He was on a quest, he would get it done, and he would never have to see Merlin ever again. And that was that.

*****

Tintagel seemed to be as full of disappointments as it was surprises. Merlin still hadn’t discovered anything new on what had brought him here. Nor had he been able to find Mordred again.

It wasn’t a busy day at the pub, so Merlin let his mind drift. A story was forming in his mind. He had wanted to be a writer since he was young, but one thing or another always stopped him from actually doing it. But after meeting Mordred...

His thoughts were interrupted by Gwaine sidling up next to him.

“You know the vision you saw on the beach?” Gwaine asked, lips stretched in a lazy grin that was just a step away from being lewd.

“Gwaine, stop making fun of Merlin.” Lance voice sounded from somewhere out back.

“I’m not!” Gwaine yelled back to Lance, indignant. Turning to Merlin again, he said, “I’m just saying that your vision may have just walked in our doors.”

At that, Merlin’s head snapped up. His eyes unerringly met Arthur’s, who looked surprised and wrongfooted. Arthur seemed to hesitate for a moment before he strode purposefully towards the bar and plopped himself down on a stool right in front of Merlin.

Merlin said nothing and simply quirked up his eyebrows.

Gwaine huffed and leaned across the bar towards Arthur. “You must be Arthur. I’m Gwaine. I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, grinning lecherously.

Merlin rolled his eyes, and he bet that, somewhere out of sight, Lance was rolling his eyes too.

Arthur was looking at Gwaine with suspicion and a hint of animosity. Seriously, what was with the man and his trust issues? Merlin interrupted by saying, “Don’t mind him. So, What can I get you?”

Arthur stared at Gwaine for another moment, who simply shrugged and walked away while grinning good naturedly, before he turned his eyes on Merlin.

Merlin was surprised and, if he was honest with himself, a little proud of himself to note that the antagonism that Arthur had shown towards him when they had first met had dissipated somewhat.

Since Arthur hadn’t answered, Merlin tried again. “Would you like a drink?”

“Uh— No, not exactly,” Arthur replied, looking decidedly ill at ease. “I am looking for something.”

Merlin snorted, thinking of his own search. “Aren’t we all?” he said and, turning to grab a glass.

“I think I could use your assistance,” Arthur said, and even though he sounded polite, he looked as though that sentence had been dragged out of him.

“Is that right?” Merlin asked, trying to supress the smile that threatened to make itself known.

“Well, I don’t need it,” Arthur said, “but I have been told it might make things easier.”

“Someone told you I could help you find whatever you are looking for?” Merlin asked, confused.

“Not you specifically. But someone. I figured you were good as anyone,” Arthur replied.

“Gee, thanks for the high praise,” Merlin said, placing a pint of beer in front of Arthur. At Arthur’s confused look, he said, “On the house. Drink up, and tell me what you are looking for.”

Arthur was used to doing things on his own. It went against his very grain to ask for help from a stranger. But even he was humble enough to admit when he was out of his depth. He didn’t know anyone on land, and he had absolutely no idea where to begin. So he would ask for help. But damn it if he would trust anyone, even this charming man with a guileless smile. Who was still staring at him waiting for an answer. Arthur took a sip of the drink Merlin had given him. It was too bitter and nothing like the sweet or sour or even the spicy drinks made in the depths. Struggling to hide his distaste, Arthur took another sip, all the while gauging how much he could tell the man in front of him.

“I’m looking for something that belongs to my sister,” he said.

“Okay,” Merlin replied, clearly confused. “Why not just ask her where it is?”

Arthur stamped down on the anguish that threatened to swallow him. “She is not in a position to answer,” he said as calmly as he could.

“Okay,” Merlin said again, still baffled. “But, how can I help?”

“You live here, don’t you?” Arthur asked. “Maybe you knew her?”

“Oh, I’m— I’m just visiting,” Merlin replied, looking strangely uncomfortable. “Maybe Gwaine or Lance—”

“No!” Arthur cut in sharply. He didn’t trust any man on this land. Except apparently Merlin, his mind supplied. That thought only irritated him. He slammed the still nearly-full glass of drink on the counter and walked out.

“What was that all about?” Lance’s voice startled Merlin and stopped his gawping at the door through which Arthur had disappeared. Merlin just shrugged. What was it with Arthur anyway?

“Has a nice arse, though,” Gwaine commented.

“Gwaine!” Merlin and Lance groaned in unison.

“Merlin!” Gwaine replied in the same tone. “What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be going after him?”

“But—” started Merlin intelligently. He stopped and turned to Lance.

Lance smiled. “He doesn’t trust us, but he seems to trust you. And he clearly needs some kind of help. Go, Merlin. We can handle things here.”

Merlin looked at their encouraging smiles (or smirk, in Gwaine’s case.) He honestly didn’t know how he could help Arthur, but really, would it hurt to try? So Merlin grinned a quick thank you, grabbed his jacket, and ran out the door after Arthur. And stopped. He had no clue where Arthur might have gone. He considered his options. If Arthur was asking around for something, Merlin reasoned, he would likely go where there were a lot of people. With that in mind, he set off towards the town square.

He was halfway there when something made him turn to the beach. After all, the first two times Merlin had met Arthur he had been coming out of the sea, as strange as it was.

He looked around, trying to spot Arthur, but he was nowhere in sight.

Merlin was about to turn around and go back to the pub when he saw Mordred running towards him.

Merlin’s face split into a bright grin. He crouched down and held his arms out just as Mordred flung himself into them.

“Mordred!” he said when they broke apart, still grinning at each other. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“You have?” Mordred asked, clearly surprised.

“Of course!” Merlin replied. He filed away his concern and protectiveness that sprung up at the thought that this child thought no one would be looking for him.

Mordred simply beamed at him and tugged him along to the shoreline. The tide was high and most of the rocks were underwater. Merlin smiled at Mordred’s disappointed moue when he realized that they wouldn’t be able to go down to his hiding place. But he quickly shrugged it off and walked over to some rocks until they were relatively out of view of anyone on the beach.

They had barely sat down before Mordred started to chatter away excitedly about how he had managed to control the flow of water inside a tumbler.

“Will you teach me more magic, Merlin? Please, please, please?” he pleaded.

Merlin laughed, much preferring this animated version of Mordred to the morose one he had met before. He nodded his assent, and Mordred squealed and hugged Merlin before he sat back down and tried to look serious (and failing, excitement practically radiating off of him.)

Merlin would do anything to keep the happy smile on Mordred’s face, so with a casual gesture he made butterflies form and fly around Mordred’s head. Mordred’s delighted laughter warmed him to his core.

“Teach me how! Teach me how!” Mordred exclaimed quivering with anticipation. So Merlin did.

The two met up whenever they could, and Merlin taught Mordred simple tricks. Tricks that wouldn’t attract attention, especially since Merlin had a bad feeling about Mordred’s father. Mordred, despite his young age, grasped the complexities of magic with ease and wanted to learn more difficult spells. The lessons, which allowed Merlin to use his magic so freely, did him good as well. More than anything, Merlin was happy that he could bring some joy to the Mordred’s life.

*****

Merlin strolled along the beach. He wasn’t entirely sure if Mordred would come by that day. He had already checked the alcove that was Mordred’ hiding place, but he wasn’t there. Some days Mordred wouldn’t show up and some he’d be waiting for Merlin, practically bouncing with excitement to learn more magic. Whenever Merlin enquired about his absence, Mordred would simply shrug and say that he had been grounded. Merlin tried not to worry, but he couldn’t help it.

It would be invading Mordred’s privacy, but Merlin wondered if there were other ways he could find Mordred’s father. A tracking spell, perhaps? No, Mordred would definitely notice something like that being cast on him. Merlin was going through some other spells in his head when a pointed cough startled him from his thoughts.

He turned to find Arthur lounging oh-so-casually against the rocks. Merlin’s mouth twitched at the ‘Seas the Day’ t-shirt Arthur was wearing. Merlin’s eyes roamed down to the tight, ripped blue jeans and something else twitched. He had a good memory. He knew what was under those.

“Like what you see?” Arthur asked smirking. He stretched himself over the rocks in what was probably a practised move.

Merlin schooled his features into nonchalance. “I didn’t take you for the punny t-shirt kind of guy,” he mused.

Arthur straightened up, face furrowed in irritation. “Is nothing I wear going to be good enough for you?” he demanded .

It was harder to feign nonchalance this time, but Merlin somehow managed. “You’re dressing up for me?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He noted with amusement that Arthur was still carrying a briefcase.

“Of course not,” Arthur spluttered. “I just— argh. Never mind. There are more important things at stake here. Like finding what I am looking for.” He paused and started at Merlin.

Merlin arched his eyebrows. “Then go find what you are looking for.”

He watched, amused, as Arthur’s face distorted into various expressions. He finally settled on haughty. Not a good choice, Merlin thought. “You will help me find what I’m looking for,” Arthur said arrogantly.

“Will I now?” Threw back Merlin sarcastically.

Arthur sighed. He knew this would be hard. He had intended to do this quest on his own. Leon had offered to help, so had a few others, but he had declined all of them. Why was he seeking the help of this man he knew absolutely nothing about? And was being denied, of all things.

He looked at Merlin, who was inexplicably still standing there, as though waiting for something.

Oh! Right.

“Will you please help me?” Arthur finally asked. Humility did not come easily to him. But Merlin — Merlin was something, to say the least.

Merlin grinned, brilliant as the sun, and Arthur felt an odd tug at the bottom of his stomach. There was something about this human he couldn’t put his finger on.

“Well, what are you waiting for then, lazy daisy?” Merlin asked. Arthur scowled. What had he gotten himself into?

“So you’ll help me?” Arthur asked just to clarify.

Merlin, who had started walking up the beach, turned back to look at him as though he was an idiot. Arthur bristled, but at Merlin’s smile he gave in and followed after Merlin.

“Let’s get this straight. This is my quest. I say what we do,” Arthur said as soon as he caught up with Merlin.

“Yeah sure, whatever mate. Now what are we looking for?” Merlin asked cheerily.

“I’m not your—” Arthur breathed in deeply. And out. In and out, until he could speak without strangling this aggravating man he was relying on to help him. “I can’t tell you,” he replied.

Merlin looked at him incredulously, “How in the hell am I supposed to help you then?”

Fair point. But Arthur didn’t trust Merlin that much yet. “We’ll get there when we get there,” Arthur said briskly, pretending not to notice Merlin’s annoyance.

Merlin didn’t cease with the pointed looks even as they walked towards the road, so Arthur conceded a bit. “I’m looking for something of monumental importance that belongs to my sister. It is highly likely that we will find it where she lived. Or we’ll find someone who knows where it is.” Merlin still looked confused, but Arthur had already given away too much.

“And where did your sister live,” Merlin asked.

“Here, obviously” Arthur replied.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Obviously,” he quoted sarcastically. “I'm sure you don't mean the beach, given your, well, pomposity. So, I'm gonna assume you mean Tintagel. Where in Tintagel did she live? Like, do you have an address or a street name or something?”

Arthur remained silent, his jaw clenched. It tore at him that mere days ago, he hadn't even known she had lived in Tintagel at all.

“You don't know where exactly she lived, do you?” Merlin asked.

“No,” Arthur answered shortly.

“Okay.” Merlin stretched out the syllable. Arthur was caught off-guard by how easily Merlin accepted the fact. “Do you have a photo of her?” Merlin asked, throwing Arthur off again.

“Umm… No?”

“Hmmm…” Merlin replied thoughtfully. “That might make this a little more difficult, but we can try. So, what exactly are we looking for again?”

“I told you, I can’t tell you that,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, but you could tell me something. Is it big? Is it small? Is it heavy? Is it lightweight? I don’t know,” Merlin said, tilting his head this way and that, which should make him look ridiculous, but it was so adorable. “Is it something that goes bad with time? Can it be buried? Can it be carried on a flight? Is it jewellery? Letters? Clothes?” Arthur stiffened at that and Merlin, damn him, caught on. “Clothes? Clothes? What, did your sister have a bad breakup and left her clothes behind?”

Arthur merely glared at Merlin.

“Aww, come on! You have to tell me something,” Merlin said plaintively.

Arthur was at a loss. He had been taught from a young age that secrecy was paramount to their survival. “You are invading my sister’s privacy,” he settled for saying instead.

That brought Merlin up short. “Oh shit,” he said, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, but you do get that if I don’t know what we are looking for, I am actually of no use?”

Arthur heaved a sigh. Perhaps “What we are looking for does indeed resemble cloth, but it is far more precious than a mere garment. It is likely to be guarded or secreted away. Whoever has it, won’t be willing to part with it.” he said, hoping his blind trust in Merlin wouldn’t be in vain.

Merlin nodded. “I suppose we have a challenge ahead of us then.”

With a lot at stake, Arthur thought.

*****

It became something of a routine. Some days Arthur would come to the pub and wait until Merlin’s shift was done. Arthur didn’t come around often, though. When Merlin had wondered aloud about it, Arthur had muttered something about obligations and rules, and promptly changed the subject. Merlin didn’t mind. His own search was put on the back burner. If he had free time, Merlin would go over to the cliff side in search of Mordred. It was always a fun and freeing experience for Merlin to use magic so freely with someone.

Merlin didn’t know if the times he spent with Arthur could be described as fun, but it was magical nonetheless. It seemed strange yet utterly normal that he could get along so well with a person he hardly knew. Arthur didn’t give him much details, but the way he spoke about his sister pulled at Merlin’s heart strings. They had formed a sort of tentative friendship between them, but Merlin yearned for more, especially when times like Arthur laughed at one of his stupid jokes. He laughed with his full body, head thrown back, exposing the long line of his neck that Merlin wanted to kiss and bite and suck.

They had been searching for weeks, and despite their growing closeness, Arthur still had a wall up around him. Merlin had tried to coax details out of him. Like, for instance, who the fuck Arthur was, but Arthur had kept mum. It wasn’t especially helpful in finding whatever Arthur was looking for. Merlin felt frustrated that Arthur still didn’t trust him, not even enough to help himself. Merlin sighed. Unanswered questions had haunted him all his life, now— Arthur seemed to be of the opinion that he could glare the answers out of everyone they talked to, but damn it, they needed the right questions.

Arthur looked sideways at Merlin’s sigh. And paused to take in the beautiful profile presented to him. Merlin seemed lost in thought and unaware of Arthur’s gaze, so Arthur looked his fill. He didn’t know what it was about Merlin, but somehow he had managed to worm his way into Arthur’s heart. Arthur hadn’t forgotten that he had a mission and that time was of the essence, but he couldn’t help want to be with Merlin for as long as he could. Merlin, with his goofy smile and his ridiculous anecdotes. Merlin with eyes so blue and deep that they could rival the depth of the oceans. Merlin, who perhaps wasn’t as unaware of his staring as Arthur had assumed because he turned to look at Arthur quizzically.

Arthur felt his breath catch as Merlin’s eyes locked with his. Without a thought in his mind, he reached for Merlin, who seemed equally spellstruck. Their eyes remained locked as their lips met and Arthur felt like the time he had let the current take him along. Frightening and freeing all at once. He felt Merlin’s mouth open and his hands coming to rest on his shoulders and all thought was wiped from his mind except for Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.

Arthur pulled away abruptly, his eyes wide, though unfocused. “Oh, please don’t be a siren!”

“What?” Merlin laughed. He looked dazed and utterly happy. He used his arms on Arthur’s shoulder to try and pull him closer again, but Arthur resisted, looking at the trust on Merlin’s face. Merlin looked at him confused, but there was- maybe it was Arthur’s wishful thinking- but there appeared to be at least the beginning of love in Merlin’s eyes. Arthur felt it reflected in his own heart. The kind of love that could last centuries.

“Merlin, I have to tell you something.” The words were out of his mouth before he could help it.

Merlin’s face sobered immediately, but he was still looking at Arthur with a smile.

Arthur didn’t know how or where to start.

Merlin let his hands fall down and laced his fingers with Arthur’s. “Is this about you not being entirely human?” he asked casually.

“What?” It was Arthur’s turn to ask. He stiffened and pulled away, ignoring the way Merlin’s brow furrowed adorably. It was not adorable. It was a ploy. “You… You knew? Was this all some sort of joke to you? Were you—” Arthur’s breath hitched, “were you planning on trapping me?”

Merlin’s mouth fell open and reached for Arthur’s hands again. “Arthur! Arthur! I don’t know what on earth you are talking about,” he cried earnestly. Arthur refused to believe him, no matter what his traitorous heart wanted.

“How do you know I am not human then?” He threw back.

“Well, I didn’t know for certain. You just confirmed it,” Merlin said, eyes wide and beseeching. Arthur wanted to give in so much, but he had to know for certain. He widened his stance, crossed his arms, and cocked up his eyebrows.

Merlin sighed. “Arthur, you weren’t exactly inconspicuous. Walking out of the sea naked, or in a business suit! And your people skills are... well... Non-existent to be honest. Arthur, you can pretend to know and own everything, but it was clear that you are different. But I wasn’t planning on trapping you or anything else. Jeesh! Why on earth would I do that?”

Arthur took in Merlin’s bewilderment. It appeared honest, but— “How did you know that I was not some crazy person? How could you understand the existence of something inhuman?” he asked.

“One, you didn’t seem crazy to me. An arrogant prat, sure, but not crazy,” Merlin said earnestly, “and—” he suddenly looked sheepish, one hand going to scratch the back of his neck, the other forming a cup in front of him. Arthur watched in wonder as a small ball of light formed in the space between. He looked up to see Merlin avoiding his eyes, but he caught a glimpse of gold.

“You are a sorcerer!” Arthur gasped, stiffening all over again.

“A warlock, thank you very much,” Merlin replied indignantly. “And you are— whatever you are. Let’s not throw stones here okay?”

“A sorcerer would know how to trap one of our kind,” Arthur said acidly.

“Warlock. And I certainly don’t know how to trap you, even if I knew what you were. What are you anyway?” Merlin asked.

Arthur studied Merlin. His face was open and earnest. And he had trusted Arthur with his own secret. Arthur gave in. “A selkie,” he replied shortly.

“A selkie?” Merlin asked, face scrunching up in confusion and this time Arthur couldn’t help but admit that it was adorable. “What, like a mermaid?” Merlin continued.

Arthur snorted, his stance relaxing. “Don’t be silly, Merlin. Merpeople don’t live around here.”

“Oh pardon me for not knowing my mythical geography or whatever,” Merlin replied petulantly, his hands waving about in annoyance. Arthur smiled and caught those hands.

“And, merpeople can’t walk on land,” he added, amused.

“You could have gotten legs from Ursula,” Merlin said shrugging and it was Arthur’s turn to frown in confusion. “But then again, you have your voice. Unless she took something else. No wait. I have seen it.” Merlin trailed off, ducking his head, an embarrassed flush spreading over his face, but Arthur noticed Merlin’s eyes unmistakably glancing at his crotch. His lips stretched into a smirk and he pulled Merlin in closer.

“I don’t know what in all the oceans you are blabbering about, but why don’t we go somewhere and you can check if everything is where you expect them to be,” he said in a low whisper. Merlin’s breath hitched and Arthur laughed when Merlin nodded his head vigorously. Merlin scowled at him and jabbed Arthur with his elbows, but that only made Arthur laugh more as something that inexplicably felt like joy flooded through him.

*****

Merlin understood Arthur’s desire not to stay on land, But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss Arthur. They had talked after— well, after, and Arthur had explained how he can return to land every so often. He had promised to return, not only because of his quest, but because, for some insane reason, he liked Merlin. Merlin grinned to himself. He liked Arthur too. Maybe more than just like.

He was on his way to meet Mordred by the larger rocks by the seaside, lost in thought, when what felt like a small cannon ball hit him, and he fell sideways. Disoriented, he looked up to see Mordred clinging on to his legs… and crying.

Merlin quickly scrambled up and hugged the child. “Mordred? Mordred?” He asked softly, fighting down the panic that was threatening to drown him. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He held the boy at arms length to search for any injuries. There weren’t any visible, but Merlin knew that didn’t mean anything. He pulled Mordred close again and tried to soothe the wretched sobs. “Mordred, please tell me what’s wrong,” he begged.

Mordred’s hands clenched in Merlin’s shirt as he looked up at Merlin, tears running down his face. “My father— my—” he hiccuped and hid his face against Merlin’s chest. Merlin tried to gently lift his chin up, but Mordred hugged closer. Merlin let his hands comb through the boy’s hair in an attempt to calm the both of them.

“My father said,” Mordred started again, voice muffled against Merlin’s shirt. “He said that my mum is dead.”

Merlin froze, not knowing what to say.

“He said,” Mordred continued, “he said she hated me so much that she killed herself.”

Horror flooded through Merlin. He wanted to find that man and— he didn’t know what he could do. But right now there was a child, a sad and grieving child, that needed him.

“Didn’t your mother tell you that she loved you more than all the water in the sea?” He asked carefully. He felt Mordred nod. “Do you believe her or your father?”

There was silence for a moment, but then Mordred spoke up in a small voice. “My mum.”

“Mordred, I don’t know what happened to your mother, but please never forget that she loved you.”

“But she’s not coming back. Ever!” Mordred replied and started crying again. Merlin was helpless to do anything but hold on to the boy and offer whatever comfort he could.

When Mordred’s sobbing quieted down a little, Merlin gently pulled away and tried to look Mordred in the eyes. His heart broke at the sight of the blotched and hopelessness face. All he could do was pull Mordred back in for a tight hug, rock him, and soothe him as much as he could.

*****

Merlin had asked Mordred to take him to his father, but the poor frightened child had refused vehemently. But now that Merlin had something to go on, he went to the police. Surely they’d know if anyone had died in town. But they were of no help. No one had died, they told him. When he had tried to bring up the possibility of abuse, they had just scoffed at him. Tintagel is a peaceful town, they told him. They didn’t want the likes of him starting rumours and causing trouble, they told him.

The worst part was, he hadn’t seen Mordred after that breakdown. He had gone to the beach as much as he could — he had even tried crawling into Mordred’s secret hiding place — but no luck. He was desperately worried but couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He guessed that was probably how Arthur felt, too.

“Your sister,” Merlin asked Arthur the next time they were together, “was she trapped? Here, on land?”

He could see Arthur’s face starting starting to close off, so he took it in his hand. “You can trust me, okay?” He told Arthur.

Arthur deflated, his hands coming up to clutch at Merlin’s wrists. “I know,” he replied. “Sorry, it is just difficult for me to talk about.”

Merlin nodded, “I understand,” he said. “How, if I may ask, can a selkie be trapped? Not that I am going to trap you. I would never do that. Never ever. You have to know that. I just want to know, that is a—” he was cut off by Arthur’s mouth on his.

After a few seconds, Arthur pulled away. “Humans can trap our kind by taking our pelts away from us. Without it, we cannot return to the sea,” he said.

“You didn’t—” Merlin sighed. “You didn’t have to tell me that,” he said.

“I trust you,” Arthur said simply.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Merlin gathered up the courage to ask, “is she okay? Your sister? Did she escape? Is she alright?”

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur replied, heartbreak in every line of his face, “she is so far from alright.”

*****

Merlin didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how he could help Arthur. He didn’t know if he could help Mordred at all. He tried everything he could think of to find Mordred. Somehow that little boy had become more of a priority over his own needs. He had even asked some of the nicer fishermen if they knew of a woman who had died recently or her son. All he could gather was that there were a few clans who were incredibly unfriendly and that it might be better not cross them.

Just as he was leaving, an old woman pulled him aside. Her body was stooped and wrinkles covered every inch of her face, but her eyes were piercing, and, for some reason, filled with pity.

“Do you know the boy I am looking for, ma’am?” Merlin asked desperately.

“Aye,” the woman replied. “Tiny thing. Too quiet. I have seen him about. Places where he ain’t supposed to be.”

Hope filled Merlin. “Where can I find him?” he asked.

“He be Alvarr’s son,” the woman replied, looking at him strangely. “You seem like a nice lad, stay away from the likes of Alvarr. You don’t want to end up over the cliff too.”

Too? Merlin thought, horrified.

“Too?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble,” the woman said turning to fillet a fish.

“Please?” Merlin tried. He hoped — prayed — that Mordred was still okay.

The woman turned to look at him assessingly.

“Alvarr never let that wife of his outside,” she said out of the blue. “Folks joked around that he was scared that someone else would steal her away. Beautiful, that one was. Dunno what she saw in that wretched no-good—” she spit on the ground. “Now listen, I know nothin’ about nothin’. But—” she paused and sighed. “One night, I woke up ‘cause my back was hurting me again, the blasted thing, when I heard a scuffle outside. It was her. Ne’er knew her name. ‘Just let him go. You can keep me. Just give it to him and let me go,’ she was sayin’. Made no sense to me. I opened my window to see her struggling against him. Was about to call for help when she somehow broke his hold and ran. Ran up the stairs to the castle. Foolish girl. What did she think she could do up there? Alvarr chased after her. I woke Brian, that’s my son, you see. Nice strong boy. Won’t have anything to do with Alvarr’s kind. Has a good head on his shoulders. Told him to go up and check. But when I looked back out the window...” the woman trailed off.

Merlin, who had been listening with increasing horror through the woman’s rambling story, held his breath, dreading what was to come.

The woman looked down, lifting the fish, and checking it over. “He just picked her up as though she was nothin’ and threw her into the sea,” she mumbled sadly.

Merlin’s breath hitched. “He— wha— The Garda- The police! You have to tell them all this!” he exclaimed.

The woman scoffed. “Ya think they’d believe an old hag like me? My own Brian doesn’t believe me. He says Alvarr was just out for a walk. A walk, my shrivelled arse!”

Merlin’s mind was reeling as he headed back to the Rising Sun. Murder, of all things. He shuddered. He was so out of his depth. Murder. What was he going to do? What about Mordred? Where was he? Merlin hoped fervently that the boy was alright. He would find him, Merlin swore to himself. And he would protect him by any means necessary.

*****

Arthur smacked Merlin on the back of the head.

“Ow,” Merlin said, turning to glare at Arthur.

Arthur simply shrugged. “You weren’t listening,” he replied. They were out on the beach, having exhausted all leads for Arthur’s search. Merlin hadn’t been much help that day, head filled with worry over Mordred.

“Well, it may be hard for you to believe, but the world does not revolve around yo—” Merlin started to say, but he was interrupted by the sound of soft singing, a melancholy sound carried by the whistling wind.

Mise nighean Rìgh-fo-Thuinn Fuil nan rìghrean na mo chrè - Ged a chì sibh mi nam ròn Tha mi mòrail nam thìr fhèin.

Merlin was much too relieved to hear that voice again that he didn’t notice that Arthur had gone stiff.

“What was that?” Arthur asked in a whisper as though afraid to break a spell.

Merlin smiled, hope and relief flooding into him he thought he might burst. “That would be Mordred,” he replied absently, before calling down the rocks. “Hey Mordred, it’s me. Will you please come on up? I have been so worried about you.”

There was a beat of silence and then the sound of someone scrambling up the rocks before Mordred came into view.

Merlin crouched down just as Mordred threw himself onto Merlin in a tight hug. Merlin clung on, every morsel of worry coming to the forefront. He tried to hold back tears, but they insisted on falling anyway. After a few moments, Merlin turned to introduce him to Arthur but he froze at the expression on Arthur’s face.

“Is he your son?” Arthur growled.

Merlin blinked, not understanding the look of betrayal and the sheer rage rolling off of Arthur in waves.

“Answer me!” Arthur roared.

Merlin vehemently shook his head just as Mordred whimpered and ran and hid behind the rocks.

Arthur turned on his heel and strode towards where Mordred was hiding. “Arthur, no!” Merlin cried. “You’re scaring him.”

Arthur halted and took a deep breath. “Who is he?” he asked. He didn’t turn to look at Merlin, but instead kept his eyes trained on the rocks blocking Mordred from view.

“He’s just a kid,” Merlin replied, hurrying to step in front of Arthur. He did not understand the expression on Arthur’s face. He doubted even Arthur did, given the way it was flickering from anger to doubt to confusion to anger again. “Just a kid,” Merlin said again. “A scared kid, and you’re just scaring him more.”

Arthur deflated. “I’m not— I don’t mean to scare him. And I didn’t mean to doubt you either,” he said. “Mordred, you said his name was? Can I speak to him?”

Merlin hesitated, but squared his shoulders. “No,” he said. “That boy has had to deal with so much, and as much as I like you, Arthur, I cannot have you upsetting him.”

Arthur looked at Merlin. “You said he wasn’t your son.”

“He’s not. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about him, though,” Merlin replied, defiance in every word. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Mordred curiously peeking around the rocks.

Arthur smiled suddenly, catching Merlin off guard. “Of course you do. It’s just who you are, isn’t it?” he asked. He looked towards the rocks again, where the tousled head immediately ducked out of sight. “It’s just—” he continued. “I think— Merlin, I know his mother.”

There was a gasp, and Mordred ran out from behind the rocks to stand before Arthur. “You did?” he asked, voice even more hopeful than when he had asked Merlin to teach him magic.

Arthur’s face softened as he took in the little boy. “I do,” he said.

Merlin crouched near Mordred, and pulled him into an one-armed hug while glaring at Arthur. “Arthur, you are being cruel,” he hissed.

Arthur looked confused for a moment before his face cleared and his eyes softened further. He crouched in front of Mordred too.

Merlin moved as if to shield the boy from Arthur, but when he looked at Mordred, the child was simply staring at Arthur with imploring eyes. Merlin felt his own need reflected in them, so he turned his head towards Arthur to see what he had to say.

Arthur seemed lost for words as he took in Mordred. Merlin realized with a start that there was love in Arthur’s eyes, even though he had never met Mordred before. “Who taught you that song, Mordred?” Arthur asked softly.

Mordred seemed to be doing an assessment of his own before he said, “No one taught me. My mum used to sing it when she thought we were asleep.”

Arthur’s face twitched. “We?” he asked.

“My father and I,” Mordred said. Before Arthur could reply, he asked impatiently, “You said you knew my mother?”

Merlin watched, fascinated, as Arthur fought to control his expression, somehow managing to still look soft. For Mordred’s benefit, Merlin supposed.

“Is your mother Morgana?” Arthur finally asked.

Mordred’s eyes widened, and he nodded his head enthusiastically. “So, you knew her?” he exclaimed.

Smiling, Arthur answered, “Morgana is my sister.”

Merlin’s head snapped up to look at Arthur. That, he was not expecting.

Arthur looked between the gobsmacked expressions on both Merlin’s and Mordred’s faces and realized some (a lot of) explanations were in order.

He looked at Mordred. His nephew, Arthur thought wonderingly. “We - that is, Morgana and I — and our kin, we are —” he hesitated, “we are what are called selkies.”

“They are magical creatures Mordred,” Merlin supplied helpfully. At Arthur’s startled look, he explained that Mordred had magic too.

“Oh,” Arthur said thoughtfully, “That is rare, even in our species. But Morgana had some powers, premonitions mostly, so I suppose—”

“My mum was not human?” Mordred interrupted him.

“We can take human forms, but our natural form is that of a seal,” Arthur tried to explain. “We live under the sea.”

“But then why was my mum pretending to be human?” Mordred asked earnestly.

Arthur sighed and settled down on the rocks. “Our father is the King of Tír fo Thuinn.” He ignored Merlin’s eyes widening. He had left that bit out in his explanations to Merlin, but there will be time for that later. Right now, right now there were so many more important things. “Morgana was the beloved — and strong headed — Princess,” he continued to tell her son. “She wanted to see the world. Our father refused her time and again. Then one day, she just left. We didn’t know where she went, but she didn’t come back. Father never stopped sending out patrols. But the sea... Well, we didn’t know where exactly she’d gone ashore. We searched high and low for her. It was entirely by accident that we found her. She didn’t have her pelt, so she was sinking. I thought—” he choked, but continued. “I thought she was dead. She almost was. But we found a way to keep her alive. For now.” He looked at Mordred, eyes soft and shiny. “Your mum is alive Mordred, but barely. She is being well taken care of, but she needs her pelt if she is to survive.”

Mordred had been watching Arthur unblinkingly, eyes wide with fear and wonder. “A pelt?” he asked.

Arthur snuck a look at Merlin, who remained silent, before he opened his briefcase and pulled out his seal skin.

Mordred gasped. It was beautiful, Arthur knew. Unlike the pelts of most selkies, it was entirely white. He smiled as Mordred tentatively reached out and ran his hand through the fur, knowing it would be softer than anything the boy had ever touched.

“What happened to my mum’s pelt?” Mordred asked, looking up.

Arthur’s face hardened. “I am pretty sure your father took it. A selkie without her pelt can’t return to the sea and is forced to serve the person who imprisoned her on land.” He hadn’t realized his voice had been steadily rising until he felt Merlin’s hand on his arm, soothing him.

A snort from Mordred surprised them both into looking inquiringly at the child. “My mum never ‘served’ my father. She fought him,” he said, but then his smile faded. He looked down, his fingers still absently stroking Arthur’s pelt. “He hit her. All the time. She didn’t want me to know, but I did. I know she was afraid he’d start hitting me too, so she tried to protect me.” He looked up then. “That’s why— that’s why I don’t understand. Why did she kill herself? Why did she leave me?” Mordred’s array of questions dissolved into sobs. Arthur opened his mouth and closed it. He was at a loss for what to say. He had not been prepared for all this.

“Your mother did not kill herself Mordred. Nor did she leave you,” Merlin’s soft voice startled both Arthur and Mordred. Arthur looked at Merlin in confusion, while Mordred’s eyes were full of hope.

“I was told that she was trying to protect you,” He said. He darted a look at Arthur. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize the connection.”

“It’s not your fault. I was not forthcoming with all the details and I did not know about Mordred,” Arthur said. He looked into Mordred eyes and said with all the sincerity he could muster “If I know Morgana, and I do, she would have willingly given up her freedom if it meant protecting someone else. Especially if that someone else was her own child.”

“I— Mordred,” Merlin hesitated, eyes trained on Mordred. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think, umm, I was told that your father might have killed her,” he said, biting his lips in consternation.

Mordred gasped, though he didn’t seem surprised. Arthur growled, face twisted in anger, murder in his heart, but the look on Mordred’s face stopped whatever he might have done. He tried to school his face into something resembling calm. He took Mordred’s chin gently in his hand. “He may have tried to kill her, but he didn’t succeed. As I told you young one, we are keeping her alive, but we need her pelt.”

Mordred looked up at him, his eyes so like his mother’s, piercing, intelligent, and stubborn.

After what seemed like ages, Mordred nodded. “I don’t know where it is, but there is an attic in our house that father never let me or mum in,” he said, “he always keeps the key with him.”

“Then I shall take it from him,” Arthur replied determined.

Mordred’s eyes widened. “No! He will kill you!” He exclaimed.

Arthur scoffed. “I’d like to see him try. Let’s see who gets killed.”

Mordred was still shaking his head vehemently. “No, no! You don’t understand. His clan- they’ll- he’ll- no, I can’t take you there.”

“He hurt my sister!” Arthur yelled. Mordred jerked back, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Arthur!” Merlin warned lowly, even though every part of him wanted to assist Arthur in killing the bastard who had hurt Morgana and Mordred. Mordred, who was hunched in on himself, scared like no child should ever be. Merlin looked at him. Really looked at him. There were dark shadows under his eyes. He was thinner than he should be and his wrists - Merlin had to stop himself from marching straight to Alvarr’s house for putting those handprints on Mordred’s bony wrists. “They won’t hurt us, I promise,’ Merlin settled for saying instead.

“Us?” Arthur asked.

“What? Someone has to be there to protect your royal backside,” Merlin replied.

Arthur spluttered indignantly but then there was a giggle followed by a tiny sniffle from Mordred. It was clear he was still upset, but it was something. Merlin smiled at Arthur, who was looking at Mordred with soft eyes.

“Young one, if we find the pelt, you can use it too!” Arthur said, causing Mordred’s eyes to jerk up. “You can come back with me and live with your mum if you want to. Would you like that?”

“I can see my mum again?” Mordred asked, face alight with hope and joy. Arthur nodded. “But- but if I use mum’s pelt, how can you save her?” Mordred wondered, rather wisely, Merlin thought.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Gwen, that’s your mum’s love, and Gaius, our physician will be able to come up with something. They have many tricks up their sleeves,” Arthur replied.

“And I won’t have to come back ever again?” Mordred asked.

“You can come back if that is your wish, but for now, I’m certain Morgana would love to have you with her,” Arthur said.

Mordred studied him for a moment and then squared his shoulders. “Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. “Okay, I’ll take you to him.”

Arthur grinned and stood up.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold on a sec,” Merlin cut in. Arthur looked at him confused. Merlin ignored him for a moment and said to Mordred, “Why don’t you tell us where your house is and we’ll go find your father.”

“But-” Mordred started to protest.

“Merlin is right,” Arthur chimed in, surprising Merlin. “It might be dangerous for you. Merlin, do you have a safe place for him to stay?”

“I don’t think it’s entirely legal, but I’m sure Lance would be glad watch him for a while,” Merlin replied.

“But-” Mordred said again, “What if you don’t come back either?” he asked mournfully.

Merlin’s heart broke. He reached across and hugged Mordred tightly. “We’ll be back Mordred, we’ll be back. And soon, you can be with your mum again,” he said, hoping against hope that that will be the case.

*****

Merlin hurried to keep up with Arthur who was striding purposefully, a murderous look in his eyes that made everyone in his way scurry away.

“Arthur, wait!” Merlin pleaded. “What is the plan? What are we going to do?”

Arthur turned to look at Merlin as though he was being especially stupid. “Kill that bastard and take Morgana’s belt,” he replied shortly.

“You can’t jus—” Merlin floundered for what to say, “I understand that you are royalty wherever you are from. But you can’t kill someone and expect to get away with it! There will be consequences!” He exclaimed.

Arthur simply shrugged and continued forward. “I’ll be long gone before anyone even realizes he is dead,” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” Merlin replied, “and they’ll arrest me instead. And probably think I killed Mordred and Morgana too.”

That made Arthur pause. “I could throw him into the sea; it would be poetic justice,” he said with a cruel smile that made Merlin shudder. “People might think that he just left town with his— wife and son.”

“That is just a supposition. You can’t guarantee that that is what will happen,” Merlin argued.

Arthur stopped and turned around slowly. “Then what do you suggest we do, Merlin?”

“Umm. Maybe we could sneak in and steal it?” he suggested. “I mean, it is still illegal, but maybe slightly less so?”

“I am not sneaking around,” Arthur growled. “I want him to look him in the eyes and put the fear of the Gods into him for daring to lay a hand on my sister.”

“Hey that might work! You can simply scare him into giving you the pelt!” Merlin tried.

Arthur simply raised his eyebrows before he turned and followed the route mapped out to them Mordred. Merlin couldn’t tell if Arthur was in agreement with him or if he was merely humouring him and would end up killing Alvarr. Merlin groaned to himself. What had he gotten himself into.

As they passed some of the fishermen’s huts, Merlin saw the old woman who had first told him of Alvarr looking at him with pity, but there was gleam in her eyes when she looked at Arthur that Merlin couldn’t interpret.

In the end it was all very anticlimactic. Alvarr had taken one look at Arthur and turned tail and fled like the filthy coward he was. Arthur had wanted to chase after him, but Merlin had persuaded him into just getting the pelt and leave instead.

Right, leave.

They stood now by the shore, Mordred with Morgana’s pelt bundled in his arms, inhaling its scent and smiling in wonder and hope.

Arthur held on to Merlin’s hands, not wanting to let go yet. Merlin looked at Arthur with a smile that was both happy and sad, resigned and hopeful.

Giving in to the urge, Arthur leaned over and tucked a stray curl behind Merlin’s ear. “Merlin,” he started, “It has been wonderful, beyond wonderful, being with you.”

“Wait! Are you saying goodbye?” Merlin asked alarmed. “You can come back though, right? You will come back?”

Arthur sighed. He didn’t know how to tell Merlin this. “If I leave now,” Arthur had to pause, tears threatening to spill out, “I will not be able to come back for seven years.”

“Sev- seven years?”

“I am a Prince. I have to be there. And I— I can’t expect you to wait for me,” Arthur told Merlin, even though it broke his heart to think of Merlin moving on.

“I’ll wait,” Merlin said without hesitation.

“Seven years is a long time, Merlin. You need to live your life. I will not ask for you to wait for me. I will not ask you to put your life on hold for me,” Arthur said sadly.

“Who said anything about putting my life on hold, prat?” Merlin replied, surprising Arthur into a laugh. “But I will wait for you,” he said.

Arthur smiled and leaned in to kiss the tears away from Merlin’s face. Merlin’s fingers clutched at his shoulders desperately. They each were afraid to let go of the other. But they had to.

Merlin pulled Arthur’s lips to his and drank in the taste of him like he could never get enough. But it had to be enough. He slowly pulled away and looked towards Mordred who was practically hopping in place in excitement. Arthur followed Merlin’s gaze and smiled fondly at the sight.

With one more peck at Merlin’s lips and a gaze filled with more promise than a word could say, Arthur turned away and walked towards Mordred.

Merlin watched as Arthur helped Mordred don the pelt around himself. He could already see the shift in Mordred’s features. Arthur looked at Merlin as he pulled his own pelt around himself. He smiled and Mordred grinned and waved.

Merlin watched, tears flowing freely, but refusing to blink. He watched as there was a swell of a wave and both Arthur and Mordred were gone.

*****

It was cold, not bitingly so, but cold enough that Merlin kept clear of the water. Seven years, seven years he had been waiting, sitting on the rock that once he’d whimsically thought of as a throne. It didn’t feel like a throne now. Hadn’t after the first few months. It felt more akin to a widow’s walk, Merlin thought with a grimace.

Seven years. It was a long wait. But truth be told, Merlin would wait longer. He would wait an eternity. For Arthur.

Merlin didn’t leave Tintagel even though he had never found what had brought him there. He moved out of the hostel and got himself a small cottage. He could afford more now that he was a successful author, but he liked it there. Small, cosy, just missing one thing. Arthur.

The wind was crooning whispers in his ears, leaving ghostly touches. The waves rose and fell, splashing salty droplets onto his face. He used his sleeves to wipe them away, but as his hands fell back down, his eyes caught a speck in the ocean. Disappearing and reappearing with the waves. As it got closer, Merlin could see the white fur, golden light from the sun lending it an unearthly aura. Merlin smiled, then he was laughing, laughing without a care in the world. Laughing with joy and delight and so much love.

He scrambled down the rocks, desperate now that his love was within reach. He landed on his hands and knees the shallow water. The splash soaking him simply made him laugh more.

A different laughter joined his. Merlin looked up, and there he was. Arthur. Naked as the day they’d met. Merlin grinned and tried to stand up, but of course, he slipped.

A strong pair of arms caught him. “Seriously, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

Merlin didn’t even bother to tease back, for he had waited seven years to hear that voice again. He pulled Arthur closer and buried his face in his neck.

Arthur’s laughter vibrated through his chest, warming Merlin to the core. Then Arthur was pulling him closer still. “Merlin,” Arthur said, voice soft and fond.

Merlin looked up at Arthur’s face, refusing to let go. He knew how he looked now. Seven years had gone by. Arthur didn’t look a day older. Merlin knew he himself wasn’t old by any means, but the years had written themselves onto his skin. Would Arthur love him still?

Arthur answered the unasked question by pressing their lips together. Merlin felt the years melt away and it was just him and Arthur. Arthur and Merlin. Always. He let out a joyful laugh as Arthur nipped his lower lip, but Arthur caught the laugh in his mouth and from then on it was all heat and passion.

When they finally drew apart for air, they simply stood smiling at each other.

“You came back,” Merlin said, his hands stroking Arthur’s face as though Arthur might just disappear with another wave.

“I did,” Arthur replied, “and you waited!” Merlin blushed at the wonder on Arthur’s face. They would have stood there forever, caught in each other’s embrace, but the chillness soaking through his clothes reminded Merlin that a warm bed awaited them. He smiled at Arthur and asked, “Will you come home with me?”

*****

Merlin woke slowly, warm and content for the first time in a long time. He smiled when he felt soft kisses on the back of his neck.

He turned around and his heart soared at the sight of Arthur lying there beside him, smiling at him. Merlin was helpless to do anything but lean in and capture that smile with his lips. Arthur didn’t hesitate in deepening it.

They took their time, unlike last night when it was all desperation and longing, this was lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings. And when he came, Merlin didn’t know whether he was floating or sinking, Arthur’s touch his only anchor.

Minutes, hours, maybe days later, Arthur rolled out of bed. “Come back here,” Merlin whined. Arthur just chuckled good naturedly and went around inspecting every knick and knack Merlin had gathered over the years. He paused by the bookshelf and picked one book up.

“Mordred and the pirate’s cove, by Merlin Erris” Arthur read aloud from the cover.

Merlin blushed. “He— and you — inspired me. Don’t worry, I don’t reveal the existence of the selkies,” he added hurriedly.

Arthur laughed, sunlight through the window glinted off his golden hair and his naked body, reminding Merlin of the first time they’d met.

“I wasn’t worried about that Merlin,” Arthur’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Both Morgana and Mordred would love these! If only I could take them underwater,” he added wistfully. Merlin watched as Arthur went through the books, reading their titles with a beautiful smile on his face.

“‘Mordred and the Seanchaí’s secrets’, ‘Mordred and the strange ensign’, ‘Mordred and the bosun’s whistle’, ‘Mordred and the Tuatha Dé Danann’s gift’, ‘Mordred and the Féth fíada.’” Arthur looked down at Merlin, his smile proud. “ Well, you seem to have done a lot of research,” Arthur said. “Unless you went in search of magical creatures?” his smile turned wicked at the end.

“Oh, shut up,” Merlin said, throwing a pillow at Arthur who dodged it easily without even looking, his attention caught by the pile of papers on Merlin’s desk.

“What are these?” he asked.

Merlin turned around on the bed to see Arthur leafing through his latest manuscript. “That is supposed to be the last book in the series of Mordred’s adventures. It’s finished, I just have to send it over to my publisher,” he said sleepily, not noticing the way Arthur had frozen.

“And this?” Arthur asked, holding up a piece of paper.

Merlin squinted to see through the sleep in his eyes, but he knew what it was before it was fully in focus. The photograph that started it all. The photograph he kept with him when he wrote, to remind him of hopes and dreams. He sighed. “That is a picture of my mum and, I think, my dad. I never knew him and I wanted to find him. He is the reason I came to Tintagel.” his smile turned shy, “but you are the reason I stayed.” he finished softly.

Arthur didn’t say anything, but continued to stare at the photograph.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, sitting up in the bed, confused.

“I have to go,” Arthur said, already pulling up his trousers.

“Arthur!” Merlin said again in panic, climbing out of the bed. He had waited seven years. He didn’t know what he had done wrong now for Arthur wanting to leave.

Arthur paused for a moment, hesitating at the look on Merlin’s face.

“I’ll be back,” he said, “I’ll be back, Merlin. Soon. Wait for me.” And with that he was out of the door. And out of Merlin’s life. Again.

Merlin stared at the closed door for what felt like hours, before he crumpled to the floor, harsh sobs wracking his entire body.

*****

Merlin didn’t know what possessed him to get dressed and go sit on the rocks on the beach. All he wanted to do was climb back into bed and cry for the next seven years. Arthur had said to wait for him. Merlin didn’t know if it was for just a little while or nine days or another whole seven fucking years. It was just his luck to fall in love with a selkie. Would Arthur keep visiting him every seven years? Even when Merlin was old and wrinkled? Would he visit Merlin again at all? Would Merlin himself be able to stand the wait?

It was getting on evening, the setting sun making everything seem warm in contrast to the cold Merlin was feeling in his heart. But then a strange sight had him standing up and peering curiously out into the mist settling over the waters.

What appeared to be a kayak rose out of the sea and continued its way to the shore. It wasn’t being rocked by the waves or pulled along with the currents. As it got closer, Merlin could see two figures sitting in it, but they weren’t steering it either. Or at least, not by hand.

Curiosity peaked, Merlin made him way down to a sandy cove, where he knew the kayak was most likely to come ashore, unhindered by the rocks. His heart skipped a beat when he caught sight of the unmistakable golden locks, glorious even in the dim light. Arthur came back. Arthur came back again. He didn’t leave Merlin. He came back. A movement out of the corner of his eyes made him turn to see the other person alighting from the kayak.

Merlin froze.

It was as though time had stopped. Maybe it had, Merlin thought hysterically, his magic did tend to do its own thing when he was emotional. Arthur was saying something, but his voice seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel. At that moment, Merlin’s senses were all focussed on the man before him, who was looking at him in something akin to wonder.

The man from the photograph, the man Merlin had been searching for, the man - who might be his father. How could it be? He looked if but a few years older than he did in the photograph. The few lines marrying his face spoke of years of sorrow, the only difference from the happy man in the photo.

“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice finally filtered in and time seemed to restart again.

“I— Who—?” Merlin stuttered intelligently.

Arthur moved closer and took one of Merlin’s hands in his. “Merlin, this is Balinor.”

“He— Is he— Is he really?” Merlin asked, peering into Arthur’s eyes, not caring that his voice sounded small and child-like.

But it was Balinor who answered him. “Your father? Yes. I think so,” despite the confidence of his words, Balinor’s face exuded vulnerability. “Unless your mother married and begot you from another man.”

“No,” Merlin said, voice still shaky. “It was only ever you for her.”

Balinor beamed at that and Merlin could suddenly see himself in the man before him. But there was something nagging at his brain. He turned to Arthur for answers, though he could already tell what it was going to be.

“Balinor is a selkie, Merlin,” Arthur said softly, as though it would break Merlin, unaware Merlin was beginning to stiffen — with anger, suspicion, fear — Merlin himself didn’t know.

“Hunith and I met a long time ago,” Balinor said, “before I returned back to the sea.”

Merlin tried to calm his breath. Arthur, not understanding his agitation, stroked his back in an effort to soothe him, but Merlin shrugged him off.

“Are you saying,” Merlin started, eyes boring into Balinor’s, stance defensive, hands balled into fists. “Are you saying that my mum stole your pelt from you? That she essentially held you hostage? Because then you are talking about the wrong woman.”

“Oh! No no no!” Balinor said hurriedly, his arms reaching out. “It was nothing like that. At all!”

Merlin continued to glare at Balinor, who didn’t know what to say, so Arthur cut in calmy, “Merlin, sometimes, we sense pain in humans, women especially. And a lot of those times, we try to lessen their pain.”

“Hunith,” Balinor said, regaining his voice again, “Hunith was in such anguish. I was drawn to her. I tried to help her as much as I could. And— And we— we fell in love.”

Merlin took a few deep breaths, trying to process all this. Even after everything he knew, he had a hard time believing this. “So, you— what? Made her fall in love with you and then just abandoned her?” he asked angrily.

“I had to!” Balinor exclaimed. “Oh, Merlin, it broke my heart to leave Hunith, but I had to return to the sea. I have — responsibilities. I have to look over, um — I think the human equivalent would be a Duchy? I have people depending on me.”

“It’s the same reason why I had to leave too, Merlin,” Arthur said, voice tinged with sadness. “I thought— Merlin, I thought you understood. Are you angry with me as well?”

Merlin slowly shook his head, “I was upset, yes. I was heartbroken. But I can never truly be angry with you. And you came back!” he said, shooting an accusatory glance at his father.

“Oh, my dear boy! I came back too!” Balinor said. “ Seven years later. Just as I promised her. And seven years after that. But she was gone. No one knew where. I didn’t know how to find her. And—” Balinor choked as tears filled his eyes. “And I didn’t know you even existed.”

Merlin nodded slowly, understanding dawning on him. “I think she was afraid you’d take me away from her.”

Balinor let out a sound of agony that made Merlin want to reach out and pull him into a hug. But he didn’t know this man — his father. Not yet anyway.

“I would never do that to her,” Balinor implored. “Not to Hunith!” Then he added softly, “Can I see her?”

Merlin blinked. He looked at the man before him. It was clear now, how much he had loved Hunith, how much he still loved her. Merlin braced himself for he was about to break his own father’s heart.

“She died,” he said, not mincing words. What good would that do anyway. “She died eight years ago.”

Balinor’s eyes widened in shock. He staggered back and Arthur helped him sit down on a rock.

Merlin stood helpless. When Balinor looked up at him with tear filled eyes, he gave in and stepped forward, engulfing his father in a hug. Minutes, hours seemed to pass in shared sorrow before they pulled apart.

“You’ll come with us, right?” Arthur’s voice broke into his thoughts. He looked at Arthur, uncomprehending. Arthur looked like he’d been given a gift he had only dreamed of. Balinor wore a small, sad yet hopeful smile on his face.

“I—” Merlin started, uncomprehendingly looking from one man to the other. “What? I don’t understand.”

Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re like Mordred. You can come with us,” he said, then hesitated, suddenly unsure. “If you want to, that is.”

“W- With you?” Merlin voice stuttered along with his heart. “Into the sea?”

Arthur came over and took Merlin’s hands in his again. “No more waiting seven years, Merlin. You can choose to come with us. I, for one, would love for you to come, but I won’t pressure you. It is your decision,” he said softly, all trace of mockery gone from his voice.

Merlin was reeling. He had found his father. His father was a selkie. He was half-selkie. And Arthur was asking him to move in with him? “But I don’t have a pelt,” he settled for saying instead.

Balinor pointed to the kayak they’d rode in on. “That is not any simple vessel. It is made out of selkie skin. You can use it.” He said.

Merlin looked at Arthur again. The man he had longed for over seven years. A man he thought he could never truly be with. A man who was gently smiling at him.

“Will you come home with me?” Arthur asked, voice soft.

Merlin’s face broke into a happy grin. “Home,” he replied, taking Arthur’s hand.

*****