The Thousandth Year || Merlin fanfic

Arthur- Listener

"Don't touch that, Humphrey!" A voice snaps as Arthur reached out to a finger towards an urn. There were dozens, all lined up along the fireplace, like soldiers marching into battle. Pulling a face, he yanked his hand back. Humphrey. He thought savagely. He was going to kill Merlin.

The werewolf council were talking about the body- discussing what sort of sorcery it was. Arthur had, at first, tried to contribute, but then they descended into the realms of magic and- as far as Arthur was concerned- ceased speaking English.

"But would the continemtun balance allow the animation of the host-" Merlin was saying, gesturing angrily. It was odd, Arthur thought, to think, no, to know, that that old man, beard; shrivelled face and all, was Merlin. He looked nothing like him, apart from perhaps a similar tightness in his eyes.

Shaking his head, he continued his stroll around the council chambers, inspecting the odd pots, filled with ashes, which stood proud on the mantelpiece. There were grand paintings, of places Arthur didn't know, delicate sculptures of people Arthur didn't recognise. It was another world, consumed by arts, cultures, but most of all: books. At the far end of the chambers, about half of the room- already about the same size as Camelot's- had been enveloped by towering bookshelves. There must have been dozens. For Arthur, who had hardly ever ventured into Camelot's staggering collection, it was immense.

He poked around a bit, pulling out various books as he did. A guide to the lunar cycles. How to teeth your pup. Managing the change. One section in particular caught his eye. It was a small bit of the library, nothing more than a corner, but it had a sign hanging above it: Emrys.

Trying to be subtle about it, he shuffled over to the shelf, which had a strange blue sheen to it. He thought nothing of it, and plucked one out at random. It was old, leatherbound, with a throaty musk about it. The edges of the pages were yellowed with age, but still it was oddly beautiful. As if in a trance, he moved to open the first page, his fingers caressing the soft leather. A terrified cry broke him from his reverie. Merlin's.

He screamed Arthur's name, causing the book to fall from his hands. Suddenly, Merlin was right there. He grabbed ahold of Arthurs hand, and the next thing he knew, they were both at the opposite end of the room.

There was no movement, no running, just there the one moment, gone the next. Head spinning, Arthur staggered away from Merlin, vomit rising in his throat.

"What the hell was that...?" He tried to ask but no sound came out. His ears rang, a shrill buzzing drowning out the sounds around him. Gradually, he could just make out Merlins frantic voice in his ears.

"Did you read it? Did you see the words? Arthur! Listen me, Arthur, this is important. Did you read it? Did you see the symbols? Arthur!" He paid no attention to the fact that he had just blown their cover.

"Go'way, Merlin." He managed to get out.

"Did you read it!"

"No!  Stop... shouting at me..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Arthur found his voice, finally. "I saw nothing! Just a book!"

All the air seemed to leave Merlin's body. "Thank god." He whispered.

"...Why?" Arthur managed, but just then, Alaric and the rest of the council reached them.

"Did he read it?" Alaric demands. "Did he read it?"

"For gods sakes, no I didn't! What the hell is going on?" Arthur shouted, his temper rising.

The entire council seems to exhale as one.