[team one] ghosts of the lives we lived

[green-eggs101.livejournal.com]

~1250 words of g-rated arthur and merlin exploring Camelot ruins and coming across a few 'friends'. 

Merlin pushed the door shut; it would give them at least a second's worth of warning.

A disembodied arm reached through just as soon as he finished the thought, grabbing him by the shirt and lifting him from the ground. Merlin gasped, trying to grab the ghostly arm, his finger scratching uselessly at iron gauntlets. 

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted. 

A sword sliced through the ghostly hand holding Merlin. Though the mists that made up the ghost seemed to part around the sword, it did seem to cause some sort of pain as the ghost recoiled, dropping Merlin to the ground.

Another hand grasped Merlin’s shoulder and he flinched. But this hand was warm and he looked up into Arthur’s concerned and furious face. 

“What the hell?” Arthur hissed in his ear, physically dragging Merlin further away from the door.  “You said this place was abandoned!”

“It is!”  Merlin insisted, mentally searching inside himself— his magic was there though weakened and dimmed, like a smoldering ember. With a groan, Merlin pressed his head to the worn wood. “It was.” 

And it had been. For centuries, what was left of Camelot’s citadel had remained abandoned. Shortly after Gwen’s reign, her heirs had built a newer castle in a new town. The physical Camela had fallen to ruin, even as the stories became legendary. 

Merlin had watched it from afar until even that became too painful. But every decade or so he’d come back, out of some far flung hope that maybe Arthur would return to the castle, instead of the lake. 

But as luck would have it (or not) Arthur had returned on relatively chilly Tuesday morning, stepping out of the lake exactly like how a legendary king should step out of a lake: cape floating behind him, sword in hand, hair dripping wet but still glowing in the soft morning sunlight. 

Merlin had nearly forgotten how majestic Arhtur could look. 

At Least until Arthur had stepped on land and procedure to heave up lake water, choking on air and shouting for Merlin. 

And the rest, as they say, history. Recent history. 

Today’s little adventure had begun by Arthur’s demand to see Camelot. Not that he didn’t believe Merlin’s statement that hundreds of years had passed and Camelot lay in ruin But he just “wanted to check Merlin, stop being such a ninny!” 

Which was how they ended up in this situation— a stroll around the citadel at desk that seemed to awaken something. Just as the last rays of light were fading, a hand had grabbed Merlin’s wrist, gripping tight enough to bruise. When he turned to look, he found a small hand, like that of a child, grasping his wrist. 

A hand— and nothing else. 

Merlin had shouted, Arthur had yelled— and suddenly the castle came to ‘life’. 

Mists gathered and formed shapes, people milled around just has they had centuries before. Down one corridor, Merlin could just make out the afterimage of the cook who had threatened him near weekly for taking extra sweetcakes up to Arthur— and at the end of the hall was the stableboy, running down to the courtyard as if he was late to tend to the horses. 

Merlin had looked into Arthur's eyes, unsure of his sanity, and terrified to find out if the last few weeks had been a dream and Arthur was one of these ghosts as well. 

But Arthur’s eyes were just as wide. 

Then another hand grasped Merlin’s arm, this one tighter than the child’s. Merlin turned to find one of Camelot’s guards holding him tight. Though the guard’s mouth moved, no sound came out. But the expression was one of anger. 

Merlin cried out, and jerked his hand, but the ghost held fast, seeming to grow more solid the more Merlin struggled. Desperately, Merlin reached for his magic. 

Only to find it struggling as well, barely a spark. 

“Hey!” Arthur shouted, drawing his blade. Merlin had teased him about it just that morning. Telling him that there was no need for swords in this century. 

Now he was grateful for it as a bright glow emanated from the blade, blinding the guard and releasing his grip on Merlin’s forearm. 

Arthur grabbed his hand instead, dragging him down a corridor to the room they now barricaded themselves in. 

“What now?” Arthur asked, standing in front of Merlin. “They seem to be after you. Is it your magic?” 

“I don’t… Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know” his magic was still dim, a strange and unsettling sensation. 

Another ghostly hand reached through the door, followed shortly by a torso. The being that came into view as in full chainmail and armor, sword held at the ready. By now the mists had become solid enough for facial features to be made clear. 

“Leon?” Arthur’s voice was barely over a whisper in shock. 

Leon ignored him completely, his gaze focused on Merlin. 

Merlin stood on shaky legs. “Hey Leon, I—” 

Leon’s sword struck, going through Merlin. It was shockingly cold, leaving his insides feeling like ice. 

Gasping, Merlin reached down to rub at his torso, finding no blood, though the sensation lingered uncomfortably. His magic flared for a moment in response to the danger before being suppressed back into a flickering ember. 

Leon’s sword was quickly coming back for another swing, though it clanged loudly against a second Sword. 

Leon! What the hell?!” Arthur growled and pushed back, his sword quickly blocking a praying blow. “Leon! It’s merlin! Your friend!” 

But Leon either couldn’t hear him, or didn’t care. He kept dodging Arthur’s blocks, Arthur forced to parry and retaliate on occasion when Leon got too close to hitting Merlin once more. 

But Arthur was slightly out of practice, and he faltered for just a moment. It was long enough for Leon to knock Arthur aside, his sword coming down fast on Arthur’s unshielded back. 

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted, pushing him out of the way. Leon’s sword sliced through him once more, the same icy feeling freezing his lungs and heart. 

“Merlin!” Arthur quickly recovered and pushed Leon back, putting himself between Merlin and Leon. Merlin glazed around quickly, They had to get out of here if they were to survive. With each blow Leon was becoming stronger and Merlin feared the next strike would be a bit more fatal. 

The room they had run into was one of the guest quarters, further away from the chambers Arthur had held as king, but still meant for noble visitors. Which means—

Merlin spotted it— a servant's entrance, just as another ghostly hand opened the hidden door and a hand reached around to gesture at him. Merlin paused, unsure of the intention of this new ghostly figure. But there was something about that hand— a gentleness to it that was familiar. 

His gut feeling grew to be correct when a face ducked around, framed in curly hair and armed with a mischievous smile. 

“Gwen.” Merlin breathed out a relieved sigh. 

Gwen smiled gesturing once more before disappearing into the mist. 

Merlin stood shakily, running towards the door. “Arthur! Over her!” 

Arthur pushed Leon away once more before sprinting towards the door, ushering Merlin through before joining him. The door swung shut behind them. 

They paused for just a moment, but this time the door seemed to have stalled the ghosts for now. 

Arthur turned to Merlin. “Is this the sort of trouble you got into back then?” 

Merlin groaned. “This is why I never took a vacation.” 

Up next is kit, I'll tag you on discord! Your line is "This is why I never took a vacation."