AN: It's been awhile since I did one of these. A writing challenge - seven chapters in seven days. And each chapter will be an individual day within the story.

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Merlin awoke on December 17th and stared into the cracked mirror as he brushed his teeth. A young face looked back at him. Frowning, he concentrated so the age he felt was shown to the world. A weathered old man with nothing left.

The lights flickered, as they always did when he used his magic.

Happy with his disguise, Merlin walked down the rickety back staircase to work. The bookstore underneath his flat was a convenient location to find employment. He was able to help out the young couple who owned the shop. A nice couple who treated Merlin as a member of the family.

That morning, Sophie placed a paper bag in his hand.

"Eat this," she commanded. "I won't have you fainting in the Mystery aisle."

"I don't faint," Merlin scoffed, his voice gravelly with age.

"Not yet. So let's keep it that way," she said, turning back to the new shipment of books.

Merlin peeked into the paper bag and smiled at seeing a freshly baked croissant.

Arthur had a vague notion that he had died. At least, that is what he assumed. However, as soon as he blinked his eyes open, facedown in the muddy shoreline of the lake, he had no recollection of anything after being held in Merlin's arms.

That was a week ago.

In one week Arthur had been held hostage in a cell of bright white, unnatural lighting, beeping machines and the sting of chemicals hurting his nose. He was told that it was a hospital where physicians worked. The ward he was entrapped in seemed to be filled with people who were not fully coherent of the world around them. Arthur often ate with a man named Freddie, a giant man with shocking red hair who believed that "the man" was after him and did everything in threes; three bites of food, three sips of water, three knocks in sets of three, sitting down three times before eating.

Arthur supposed that people thought him as mad as Freddie. He found it pointless to pretend to be anything other than who he was. It had not even crossed his mind when the horse-less carriage called an ambulance had carried him away. The man attending him had asked who he was and he had simply replied, "Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot."

A week later and Arthur could not find the energy in himself to try to escape his prison. Not after he learned the truth about his situation.

Over a thousand years had passed ... Everything he had known and cherished was long dead. There was no way to escape it. Every single thing around him reminded him of all he had lost.

What was there to run to in a world that seemed to have forgotten about him? There was no Camelot. No Gwen or Knights ... No Merlin.

So Arthur stayed in his room, staring listlessly out the window. The nurse who often came to change his bedding did not interrupt Arthur's solemn vigil.

Today, Arthur sat in his regular seat in his usual state of silent brooding. When his door opened he kept his back turned.

"Is your name really Arthur Pendragon?" the nurse asked, and her voice sounded identical to Gwen's. Arthur closed his eyes and tried to shut out the pain for his long-dead wife. Despite the lack of response, the nurse continued to chatter. "Bit fairytale isn't it? Not that I mind. I mean, so's my name. Sorry, I chatter when I am nervous. First day and all that rot. You can tell me if it is too much. If you can that is. My husband is always teasing me about it."

Finally gathering his wits he turned to face this new nurse.

The breath was knocked out of him. Gwen stood in front of him. She was wearing the horrible clothing all the nurses seemed to wear, her dark hair pulled back and gathered high against her head. Perhaps something had cracked within Arthur.

"Gwen?" He asked.

"Yes, that is my name ... I am sorry, do I know you?" She asked, frowning slightly.

"Guinevere," Arthur managed to gasp. His heart was beating a deafening rhythm in his throat.

"Only my mom calls me that," Gwen said slowly. "It's just Gwen. Gwen Thompson - I mean du Lac. Sorry, I am getting used to this whole married thing."

"You're married?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, his name is Lancelot. We've known each other for years ... I am sorry, but I feel ..." apparently Gwen couldn't find the words to describe what she felt.

"Do you remember me?" Arthur asked.

Gwen frowned and opened her mouth, but was interrupted by the past nurse arriving.

"Are you done in here yet?" The nurse asked and suddenly Gwen was rushed out of the room.

Arthur stared at the empty room and felt something he hadn't since felt since waking up after the battle and seeing Merlin sitting across the fire.

Arthur felt a sliver of hope.

"Honey I am home!" Gwen called out, placing her coat on the rack and smiling as the smell of Lancelot's latest creation wafted through their small one-bedroom flat.

Skipping down the small hallway, littered with pictures of families and friends, Gwen skidded into their small galley kitchen. The small counter space was barely visible past all the kitchen gadgets they had received for their wedding.

There, standing over the sizzling frying pan, was her new husband. Just thinking the word was enough to make Gwen giddy. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she dug her face into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

"Mmmm, this smells delicious," she moaned, slipping her hands under his shirt and causing him to squirm.

"Your hands are freezing," he said.

"Forgot my mitts," she said. "Don't worry. I am warming them up."

She rubbed her cold hands over his stomach. Laughing, Lancelot reached down and rubbed his hands over hers.

Turning around their quick peck quickly escalated so that Gwen was breathless and pinned against their fridge.

"How was your first day?" Lancelot asked between kisses.

Gwen's thoughts immediately went to the blonde haired patient, with the piercing blue eyes, who had seemed so familiar. Gwen opened her mouth to say something about it, but something stopped her.

"It was okay," Gwen said, breaking away from Lancelot. "Nothing much to say."

Gwaine liked this place, more specifically, he liked the bartender. He did not try to hide his appreciative stare as the mans muscled arms opened beer bottles with a flick of his wrist. The man looked his way and Gwaine winked, causing the gorgeous giant of a man to blush. Standing up to make his way towards the bartender, Gwaine felt a vibrating in his pocket.

Cursing the world, Gwaine pulled out his phone. Leon was calling.

For one brief moment he thought of not answering. Then guilt hit him. Glancing back at the bartender, who was now busy serving some very well endowed women, Gwaine muttered curses under his breath as he answered the call.

"Leon?" He asked.

"Hi, um, it's a bad night again." Leon's voice was strained and tense. Gwaine felt his stomach drop. "I ... I need your help."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he promised. One last glance at the bartender and Gwaine turned away and pulled his jacket back on.