So we meet again... (a merthur au)

L'appel du Vide

Chapter Media: Painting referenced in chapter, pictured. La Miseria by Christóbal Rojas

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After a digging a little deeper, he found not much else. He stretched his back and arms, stiff from sitting in such an uncomfortable chair. His mind went to Artie, it was a long shot, but he might find something if he dug deep enough and got lucky.

He could check newspaper clippings, death certificates, and hospital records, and those were the only options to find any information that old. The census was handwritten then, and even if Artie had been a citizen, whose to say his name was even legible? The website he did locate, though, was fifty shades of suspicious (not to mention archaic), but it did give a list of names.

All he had to do was find an Artie. Somehow. At least, he hoped his name was just Artie, or included the nickname on the records, but was probably unlikely. The site was over a decade old, but it had something.

Artie Brown? No, died too late. Arthur sighed, looking at the next list of names. Bartholomew "Artie" Sutton. That was it. It matches the time frame, the only one earlier than the fourties with the nickname Artie. It was him.

The site gave him a name, but there was not much else to find. He didn't know what he expected, frankly. Looking up the symptoms and quality of life for those with tuberculosis soured his stomach. The thought he died that way once left a dull weight on his shoulders.

A shift from the other room and a calling of his name caused him to wake from his daze. He nearly closed the web browser with his last tab, when a page was recommended from his search history. A painting?

He enlarged it, entranced by the unbearably heavy feeling it gave him. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, but he was sure it was the influence of Artie's life that made him feel that way. The person on the bed, fading away from TB, and the man sitting at her side helpless to stop it. Arthur stared at it, quiet, until he heard footsteps behind him.

Merlin stood over his shoulder, and upon seeing the painting, sighed with melancholy, "Ah La Miseria, wonderful painting, probably his best. Very good at capturing the moment... I'm sure it's a firsthand sight."

Arthur licked his bottom lip, a pained expression in his eyes, "Was it like that? It feels... real, you know?"

"It's not in a hospital, I think, and the sanitarium was always well-lit..." Merlin swallowed thickly, "but the feeling is right. The pain that drains all emotion from you and leaves you with exhaustion. I'm sure people at the hospital knew or at least suspected our relationship, being as close as we were, but I dropped nearly everything to linger at his side. Some of the children drew him pictures and he had them pinned around the room... He was such a ray of sunshine... When he died, my heart died with him. At least, some of it did. I'm glad I found you again... Truly."

Arthur turned to Merlin, who had his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He didn't know why Merlin lied about Stuart-- or Art, whoever he was-- but he wasn't necessarily angry he just wanted to know why.

"L'appel du Vide... It's an old French saying I heard a lot during the time I spent in France after Artie's death. It was usually said in passing, but I personally felt it myself many times during the times I've spent alone. On one of my journeys, I spent some time by the cliffs in Dover. The first time I stood at the precipice, I had the strongest urge to fling myself from it.

"The feeling was... inexplicable, I could imagine my death from that moment-- the wind, the fall, pain, then nothing. But then... the moment passed. As though it never happened. I think at that moment I just knew death would not take me until I fulfilled my destiny. My destiny to serve the great king, whenever he should return, but with that gone... I'm sure nothing could stop me now if I wanted to." Merlin shrugged, letting out a nervous laugh at Arthur's wounded look of concern. "You needn't worry, an expiration date is much less daunting than desperately trying to fill an eternal life alone."

Arthur swallowed, uncomfortable, before nodding. He pressed his lips together thinly, the silence drawing his gaze to the window across the way, the avid waving from it from the jovial and familiar grin pressed nearly against the glass (with a tall figure standing at his side). It caused Arthur to draw a smile from himself, "It seems we have guests."

Merlin followed Arthur's gaze and he adjusted his feet, smiling weakly, "I'll let them in."

...

After a few minutes of their how-do-you-do's and touching base of Arthur's health and condition post-injury, the conversation turned to the sudden and newfound relationship. As Arthur was dazed, Merlin did a lot of the small talk.

Frankly, though, Arthur wondered if he truly had rushed into things. Especially given his limited memories on the person he now called his boyfriend. Though he continued to call him Emrys around his friends to shield the truth of Merlin from them, the warmth with which he spoke his name a few hours before had dulled just a little and Merlin could tell. They were all seated close together, but Arthur and Merlin weren't touching anymore.

"So, we dropped by when you asked us to wait-- sorry about that, the anticipation was just too much for little Mora!" Finn laughed, elbowing Morri beside him.

"This idiot showed up at my place and insisted we come, do not believe his lies."

"Wet blanket, the lot o' ya." Finn grinned, "Anyway! Emrys, I was interested in getting to know ya. Admittedly, we lads talked more than you and my girl did, so I don't feel like I know ya well enough. Tell me about yourself."

"Just the broad strokes," Morrison nodded placatingly, looking to Finn. "Right?"

"Right." Finn pursed his lips in petulant defiance, like a child being forced to remember a promise they didn't want to.

"What do you want to know?" Merlin asked,

"Why Arthur? You seem like quite a catch." Finn asked, which earned him a playful smack from Arthur and Morrison both.

"It had to be Arthur..." Merlin reasoned, "It always was." He whispered, barely hiding the strain in his voice as he smiled.

A beat of silence passed, the gears of thought turning in his head before he settled on a decision.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" Merlin asked, looking at Arthur's expression and finding it shocked but not resistant.

Finn and Morrison looked at Merlin with confusion, before they both slowly nodded, "Well, yeah -- I guess so" the two said seperately but simultaneously.

"Then what I'm about to tell you may not seem as crazy as it sounds." Merlin smiled, exhaling as though finally relieving a weight from his chest. "My given name is not Emrys, but Merlin; you two and Arthur used to know me, in a place called Camelot, in your past lives."

"You mean, like, Knights of the Round Table? Lady of Shallot? That Camelot?" Morrison asked, trying to understand.

"I know how it sounds, but I can show you a glimpse of yourselves from my memory, to show you. It will expend a lot of my energy, but I feel it is important to let you know of this before any more time passes." Merlin insisted.

"Sure, I'll try anything once." Finn shrugged.

"I... Suppose I will too." Morri muttered, skeptical.

Merlin reached out his hand to touch their faces and whispered, "This might hurt a little... Vos memoria ego praeterita per oculos", his eyes flashing golden. Everyone but Merlin watched each other with apprehension, nope, they weren't hallucinating-- his eyes totally just changed color.

Then, the memory came.

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A.N.
For any of y'all picky people who aren't fans of me using Latin instead of the canon Old English from the show: it's easier to conceptualize how Latin sounds when reading compared to Old English and it's easier for me to check the translations for accuracy because of my limited experience with Latin, thanks for coming to my TED talk. Lmao