Chapter Text
Merlin Wyllt took the remaining steps to the end of the Carleon skyscraper’s roof and paused.
He probably should not have wasted time doing this, but he decided to indulge himself. He was hardly on a schedule after all, he could wait a moment as he appreciated the view. The entire city of Camelot lay spread out before him in miniature. Lit up enough to be awe-inspiring, but not enough to completely prevent the stars overhead from being visible. There was Riverside, of course. The side of the city he was in right now, with its many sky-touching buildings, bustling downtown, and friendly-looking neighborhoods. Those were lit sporadically; most sane people were sleeping at this time. Merlin wasn't sure if what he was doing counted him among the ranks of the insane. Gaius would say it did, if he ever found out, but Merlin was up for a reason. That counted for something, surely, against him being batshit crazy. Probably. Hopefully.
Merlin tilted his head and looked to the west. There was the river that split the city, lined with limited residential and small business buildings. The area was known as the Band. Right now, it had far fewer lights, so it was like a snaking strip of darkness.
And then, of course, across the river was Magicside, home. It had its fair share of lights, too, of course, but much less. It looked almost peaceful. From up here, one could not see the wear to the streets and buildings that would have been visible from ground level.
Magic users tended to be proud of their part of the city, and Merlin was no exception. The street art that never got painted over was beautiful and told stories of times before he was born. The flowers planted in never-repaired roads lit up the slightly decrepit urban space with color.
Alright, technically, there was more crime in that end of the city—more desperate people. But there was not as much of a difference between Riverside and Magicside as most people thought.
And Merlin should know. He was a criminal.
Merlin knew he didn’t seem like what one would expect a criminal to look like in his hoodie and COVID mask. That was the point. He appeared more like a random passerby with health issues. Ever since COVID, he’d made a point of using masks like the ones immunocompromised people wore. It was more of a precaution than anything. One that was Kilgharrah’s idea and not his.
Looking down at his dark gray outfit, Merlin called on his magic to turn the fabric transparent. Well, transparent in that the front would show what was behind him, and the back what was in front of him. He had no problem with his looks, but also no intention of showing them off to the world on the off chance someone saw him.
As the clothing turned reflective, Merlin looked down at the penthouse apartment of the building a few stories below him. In what Merlin considered a massive waste of money that would have been much better used elsewhere, Olaf had actually bought the top three stories out for himself and his daughter. And this Olaf was a collector.
Merlin smiled to himself and looked for cameras on the lower rooftop. He doubted there would be any actual security on the top floor. After all, who in their right mind would try to access the building from the unreachable top, and how? And this was at two separate points this night that he had asked who in their right mind would do the things he did.
He would not think about it anymore.
The cameras were easy enough to spot. The thing about most electronic security systems was that even magic didn't normally fool them. Merlin's powers were an exception there, as in many other things.
Calling on those powers, he reached out for the cameras with magic that would mess with their inner workings just enough that they would not pick him up.
Finally, he was at the best part of the night. Merlin took a deep breath and a few steps back, then launched himself off the edge of the skyscraper at a run.
He just barely restrained the urge to whoop as he fell through the night air toward the lower building at breakneck speed. With an exhilarated grin on his face, Merlin called on his magic at the last second. His seemingly deadly fall slowed drastically and deposited him on the top of the building with the gentleness of a caress.
Now it was time to get thieving. Merlin gloved his hands.
As he had expected, there were no guards inside, since the valuable collection was kept on the top floor, seemingly the hardest place to reach.
Merlin unzipped his backpack and filled it with two gems and two ancient pieces of art. He couldn’t take everything, as that would be too easy to track, even with a fence like Kilgharrah.
Still smiling, he reached inside the backpack to pull out a single folded origami dragon. Inside, when unfolded, there would be two words printed on it. “Cheers, Emrys.” Next to them would be a yellow rose petal. In the language of flowers, it could represent greed.
Merlin never knew whether they got the messages he sent with the flower petals he secretly picked from gardens most of the time, but he liked to include them just in case.
He placed the folded dragon in the center of the room, then quickly retreated back to the roof, using the same magic he had before to reach the ground.
He waited until late morning the next day to seek out Kilgharrah. He wasn't due to start his time in Gaius’s flower shop until noon today, since it was the weekend after all. Merlin wound his way through the band to the warehouse where he usually met up with him. Kilgharrah was an excellent fence, often taking only a 10-20 percent cut.
In the past, much of the money Merlin earned went to paying bail for magic users he thought were falsely accused. But with Uther Pendragon's promotion to detective superintendent and head of Camelot’s Criminal Investigation Department two years ago, and him not actively investigating in the field, the number of falsely accused magic users had gone down drastically. Nowadays, Merlin usually donated most of the money he earned to other ways to help Magicside.
He didn’t expect anything unusual as he entered the warehouse and wove his way through plastic and wooden crates. Kilgharrah would be in the back, in his tiny office space, and Merlin would drop off the stolen goods, coming back in a few weeks or so to receive his cut of the profits.
This time, however, as he entered the office, he realized something was wrong. Very wrong. Kilgharrah spun in his chair and steepled his fingers. The older man looked at him with profound disappointment and anger. “I know you did not like the man, Emrys. But this is too much.”
Merlin had not even started pulling objects out of the backpack. And this was weird besides that, too. Kilgharrah did not act like this, even early on, when Merlin sometimes did take too much.
“I have not handed over what I took yet. How do you know it’s too much?” he demanded.
“You are going to play innocent, young warlock?”
Merlin felt a flash of frustration. “Innocent to what!? What is going on!?”
Giving him a scathing look, Kilgharrah continued. “Cedric Gem was killed using magic last night or this morning. Your calling card was found on his body.”
“What?” Merlin froze. The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Alright, he didn’t like the man, but he never… and if there was his calling card, everyone would think…
Alarmed, Merlin found himself explaining. “I didn’t do it. I’m a thief, I never hurt anyone! Ever.”
Kilgharrah clearly did not believe him. “I thought you were careful, young warlock.”
“It wasn’t me!” Merlin objected more firmly. “Someone must have used my calling card to deflect… I would never… I have never…”
The look in Kilgharrah’s eyes shifted. He believed Merlin now. Finally. "Then you need to be even more careful, young warlock. This murder will attract even more competent detectives to try to find you.”
Merlin knew what Kilgharrah wanted; he also knew he would not give it. He crossed his arms. “I’m not just stopping my thefts until the police sort this out. It could take months, it could take years, and they might never realize it's not actually me. They probably want it to be me.”
Kilgharrah sighed. “And there is the stubborn side I have come to expect of you. Do what you must, young warlock, but for both of our sakes be careful,” Kilgharrah urged. “Do less high-profile thefts for a while. Or, you can find yourself a new fence.”
Merlin wanted to object, to protest that doing lesser thefts would just play into the idea he was guilty. He wanted to find whoever had taken his name and calling card like this and make sure they could never do it again. This could not happen; it could not be allowed to happen. He had chosen that calling card for a reason. And now it was being perverted and twisted. What was once a gesture of love and a statement now meant something else entirely.
That was so much worse than his name being used. And Cedric! Merlin had disliked the man, but he didn't deserve to be murdered! Someone had to sort this out, and chances were the police would be no good here. People in Magicside would not want to open up. “I will find out who really did this,” he told Kilgharrah, his hands clenching into fists at his side.
Arthur Pendragon pushed open the door to the criminal investigation department’s offices in Riverside, holding a black coffee in one hand. The sign outside was getting dirty again; someone really needed to talk to the trainees about keeping it clean.
The office was abuzz with activity as usual, as detective constables and even detective sergeants, the ones who helped investigate and process information, instead of leading, banged away at keyboards.
Arthur had just finished the latest investigation he led. It turned out that what his father thought was a magical crime had actually been done by a man who just had too many fireworks to spare. While part of Arthur was glad the case had been solved, another part of him worried. It had been two years since he had started leading investigations, and he had not caught half as many criminals as his father had in one. What did that say about him? He brushed the thought aside as he always did. His father was a legend, and Arthur was just starting to make his mark.
He had done well in his training, he reminded himself, and he had been promoted remarkably quickly. He was fine. He was skilled enough.
His half-sister, Morgana, a fellow detective inspector, walked up to him, also holding a coffee. “I’ll take that coffee off you.” Her eyes danced.
Arthur clutched his drink protectively. “Why?” He didn’t trust this sudden attempt by Morgana to double the coffee in her possession.
“Because the boss wants to speak to you, and he won’t want you to bring a coffee in there.” The boss meant his father, and wanting to speak probably meant a new case. With a sigh, he handed the coffee to Morgana. “Put it on my desk!”
She turned and looked over her shoulder. “No promises.”
“Morgana! I demand my coffee be put on my desk!”
“No promises!" Morgana repeated with a laugh. "Why don’t you hurry up while I decide if I want to drink your coffee or not. The boss is waiting.”
She took a sharp turn into her office.
Arthur ran his hands down his face in exasperation and then walked into his father’s office.
Uther was turned away from him on the other side of his desk, looking at the wall-length glass cabinet that held the records of cases and who knew what else. Hearing Arthur's footsteps, he turned back around, sat down in the fancy office chair, and used his head to indicate that Arthur should sit in the less fancy chair across from him.
The moment Arthur did so, Uther began to talk. “I’m assigning you a new case. Last night, a non-magic user was killed by magic in Magicside. The victim is Cedric Gem, son of Mary Gem, who found him outside the Enchanted Plate pub, which she owns. They live on the second floor above it, with his girlfriend. It goes to show the threat that magic users can pose even to those who have lived among them for years. If you solve this, it might just be enough to get you promoted to Detective Chief Inspector.”
Uther's eyes were excited as he spoke to Arthur. He rushed to excuse him in his mind. His father was a great man and a great detective, but catching so many magical criminals had hardened him. He saw a non-magic user being killed by a magic user, and it just formed more evidence against them as a people in his mind. He probably hoped it would convince even more people to his line of thinking. And, of course, he was giving Arthur the case in hopes that Arthur would be promoted.
Still, it was interesting. Arthur had not been given many cases having to do with magic before, and the few times he had been on a case that required going near it, it had been just on the outskirts. Perhaps this was his father showing more trust in him? Finally deciding he was good enough to work a Magicside case?
“The body has been taken to our forensic center and is being examined,” Uther told him. “You should start there.”
Arthur nodded, thinking quickly. “I assume the crime scene has been sectioned off?”
“It has,” Uther told him.
“Any notable information or suspects we have already?” Arthur asked next.
“Emrys.” the single word cut through his rushing thoughts.
“What?” Arthur leaned forward, and his grip on his knees tightened. He had been keeping track of the ongoing investigation into the thief Emrys. Killing did not match Emrys’s usual behavior. In fact, even hurting anyone did not match Emrys’s usual behavior. As much as Arthur tried to squash that part of him, knowing it to be unprofessional, he did not want Emrys to be a murderer.
Emrys was a thief in the same way Robin Hood was. Arthur knew those stories well and had always loved them, though he had always had to be careful his father never found out he was reading them. Emrys, as a thief, did more good than harm, and frankly, part of Arthur admired the man. If he were indeed a murderer, it ruined all of that.
“We found one of his little dragon calling cards on the body. It's with forensics now.” Uther told him. “I trust I can count on you to catch Emrys, and quickly? You will not disappoint me?”
“I will find the killer,” Arthur stood and assured his father. He was not ready to accept that it was Emrys yet.
Arthur quickly walked his way through the building to the forensics lab. He went to the morgue first, putting on a pair of blue gloves and a mask before he entered. Cedric’s body lay on a table partly covered with a cloth. He did not wait to exchange pleasantries. “Tell me what we know so far,” he directed to the coroner.
The woman immediately pulled back the sheet, exposing two deep puncture wounds in the victim's chest and stomach. Except, they did not look like any puncture wounds Arthur had ever seen.
“I know. Unusual,” the woman told him, “we believe these marks were made with ice magic shot at a distance and impaled into his body. There was melted water around the body when it was discovered, and no trace of anything else was found. The one to the chest here would have made it very hard to speak and call for help. That could be by accident or on purpose. The second one, we believe, came three to seven minutes later, hinting that it may take a while for them to gather the power needed for the ice bolts. Or, they have to wait to do another for some other reason.”
“Any other wounds?” Arthur asked, stepping forward to examine the body himself.
“None,” she told him. “The cause of death is almost certainly the ice.”
“And when would you estimate his death?” Arthur asked. His voice sounded robotic to his own ears.
“Around twelve last night to six this morning,” she told him. “Rigor mortis had already set in by the time his mother found him, behind the pub, and she opens her pub and eatery at around eight AM.”
Arthur nodded, “Check for fingerprints on the body. I’ll get elimination prints from his mother and girlfriend. We need to know if this was a deliberate, planned attack or if he was grabbed or attacked for some reason. If so, he could have escaped, and caused the killer to panic and use magic.”
She nodded, and Arthur went to examine the other evidence.
The paper dragon had been unfolded. Its typical sassy little 'Cheers, Emrys' was there, as was a black petal from who knew what kind of flower. But, as Arthur examined the note closer, he noticed something critical. The dragon was folded differently than every one of Emrys’s calling cards before. Emrys always folded his origami dragons the same way; there had never been a deviation in that, until now. Someone had copied the note in an attempt to deflect blame from themselves, Arthur guessed. Carefully, he moved the black petal into a separate evidence bag. This, he would take with him.
His next step would be to look into the flower and its meaning in case it helped at all, and then talk to the mother and girlfriend. He walked back out of the forensics center, to the main offices, and stopped by his office, grabbing his tan trenchcoat.
When he turned back to the door, detective sergeant Gwaine was blocking his path, leaning against the doorframe.
Arthur raised a brow.
“I heard about your new investigation, and about the murder.” Gwaine was clearly going to take his time getting to the point.
“Yes, I’m off to Magicside,” Arthur hinted, hoping Gwaine would move out of the way.
Gwaine shook his head and tsk’d, “You’re not gonna get anything from the locals there like this. Especially not for a murder case.”
Gwaine knew Magicside far better than he did. Alright, it was partly because his favorite pub was there. Not the one Mary owned, Arthur remembered, but another. But he still knew more than Arthur, so he was willing to hear him out. “Then what do you suggest?” He asked.
Gwaine smiled. “People will be much more willing to talk if you bring a local with you. I know someone who knows the entire place like the back of his hand.”
He grinned smugly before continuing.
“He's nosy, too, so he might be able to add good information. Also, he works at a florist’s normally, so he's an expert in the language of flowers. And he doesn't have magic, so he can’t be your murderer.”
Once again, Arthur was impressed by how fast information spread around the office. “Who is this man?” He asked.
“Gaius!” Merlin called his uncle, the owner of 'Gaius's herb and flower shop.' “I’m going to help some of the plants on the upper shelf, then take a quick break.” He was surrounded on all sides by flowers and dried herbs. All were dutifully attended to, but the ones on the upper shelves often needed a bit more of his attention.
“Don’t take too long,” Gaius told him from where he sat behind his computer at the florist's second desk.
Merlin nodded, then climbed a ladder with a spray bottle in one hand, picking out the plants that looked a bit down. The white and red daisies and dark purple hellebore needed his attention. He sprayed them with the bottle and called on his powers to infuse them with the type of vigor he wanted.
Merlin could feel his magic flow into the plants and their gratefulness. He didn’t know whether it came from his mind or the plants really did communicate through the magic; they were grateful, but either way, the drooping flowers perked up.
He didn’t bother turning around as he heard the door open and the bell that meant they had a customer ring. Gaius would take care of them just fine.
But then he heard his name.
“There he is, Merlin Wyllt! Merlin, I brought someone!”
Merlin started to turn to look and remembered to stop the magic he was using just in time. It wouldn't do for anyone to see his eyes glowing the telltale gold.
He thought he’d recognized that voice! Gwaine, one of Merlin's drinking buddies, stood in the middle of the shop, gesturing vaguely at another man. And oh, this other man was something else. High cheekbones, broad shoulders, beautiful blond hair. If Merlin hadn’t known he was already into men, this would have been his wake-up call.
The beautiful man raised a hand in a kind of wave, then reached into the pocket of the long tan coat he wore and lifted out a police badge.
Shit.
This was it. Merlin didn’t know how or why, but he had been caught, likely by someone who thought he was a murderer. And now that he knew this man was an officer, the coat he wore was absurd. Merlin had not just been caught by a police officer, he had been caught by a police officer who liked to wear the most cliché outfit humanly possible.
Had Gwaine been part of revealing him? How had Gwaine known? And why do this! Merlin had thought they were friends!
Well, if he was going down, he was not going down without making a scathing comment.
“What’s with the coat?”
“Excuse me?” The gorgeous– though enemy, he was an enemy– police officer responded.
“It's a bit cliché, don’t you think?” Merlin told him. Ha, take that. He might be caught, but he would not be a pleasant catch.
The man gave Gwaine a hard look that read “You better be right,” and then looked back at Merlin. “This, Merlin, is a classic, not a cliché.”
It was Gwaine who had found out somehow and turned him in. Merlin’s heart turned to a rock in his chest.
“I’m Detective Investigator Arthur Pendragon,” the blond man continued, “And you are now Special Consultant Merlin Wyllt. You will be helping me with a case.”
Merlin blinked. Wait… He hadn’t been caught? This didn’t sound like he’d been caught. Gwaine hadn't betrayed him! Merlin's heart pounded its relief. But relief lasted only for a moment.
He was facing Arthur Pendragon. Son of the man who had falsely arrested Merlin's father. Son of the man who had brought so much misery. Oh, he was clearly different from his father, somewhat. He had not been falsely arresting magic users all over the place. But the question was, how different. He was certainly a bit of a prat coming in and telling Merlin he would be involved instead of asking him.
“Do I get a choice in this, or are you taking me into custody?” Merlin climbed down the ladder so he could face Arthur Pendragon at eye level.
Arthur settled his hands in his pockets. “Is there any reason I should be taking you into custody?”
“No,” Merlin lied, quickly.
Arthur gave him a hard look. “Then yes, you can say no and make my path to find out who is behind the recent killing of Cedric Gem that much harder. You can hinder my investigation and make it so I have less of a chance of finding the real culprit. They can get away with a shoddy pin job on Emrys using a folded paper dragon.”
Merlin glared at the other man as he put on the pressure, narrowing his eyes until Arthur mentioned the shoddy pin job.
“You don’t think it was Emrys? Despite the paper dragon?” Merlin asked.
Arthur Pendragon shook his head. “No, I do not think it was Emrys.”
Merlin weighed his options; Arthur had the same goal as he did, to catch the murderer, and Arthur already believed it was someone else besides Emrys who did the killing. While Arthur's goal might just be to find the real criminal, Merlin wanted both that and his name cleared. Arthur would have access to knowledge about the investigation kept by the police, and Merlin might also gain access to that information if he agreed.
He looked to Gaius. “Will you be alright without me? You don’t have to pay me, I’ll manage somehow.”
Immediately, Arthur spoke again, his tone as casual as if he was talking about the weather, “I should mention that, as a special consultant, you do get a stipend of money. Most people here probably cannot afford to ‘just manage,’ and a flower shop assistant probably does not have the salary to make you an exception.”
Merlin glared at him again, then looked back at Gaius. “I will be fine.” His uncle said. “If worst comes to worst, I will hire someone else temporarily. Go, but be careful. You are trying to catch a murderer.”
Merlin looked back at Arthur. “I agree.”
Arthur's smug smile was infuriating. Stupid prattish police officer. “We have no time to waste,” he told Merlin, “Let's go.”
“Are you on a timer or something?” Merlin demanded.
“I like to bring justice quickly,” Arthur countered in a tone that said he thought Merlin was an idiot for asking.
As they exited the shop, Merlin saw the two cars parked outside on the pothole-ridden road, and he rolled his eyes. “Cars are all well and good on the small terraced street area here. But Mary’s tavern is in the middle of the Griffon neighborhood downtown. It's tenement housing with little shops between. Unless you are driving an ambulance or a fire truck, people will not like you ruining the gardens they planted on the road.”
He looked at Gwaine. “You didn't tell him about the gardens?”
Gwaine grinned. “I was waiting for you to do it. He’ll want a car to get back to the station when the time comes. I’ll take mine now.”
Arthur gave Gwaine a look that Gwaine completely ignored in favor of getting into his car and driving off.
“So we’re walking, then,” Arthur confirmed.
“Next time you should bring a bike,” Merlin suggested.
“You mentioned gardens planted in the road?” Arthur looked puzzled. “I’ve been to parts of Magicside, but never the central area.”
Merlin gestured at the potholes as they walked. “We don’t often get these fixed. In the downtown area, they are pretty much never fixed. People realized a way to take pride in their homes and to take advantage of the fact that there were holes in the road so bad that the road might not be there at all was to plant gardens.”
“Yet you and Gaius run a flower shop.”
“We get the exotic flowers as well,” Merlin told him. “And sell flowers that people don't mind picking and making into bouquets. We also know how best to dry certain herbs.”
Arthur nodded, his curiosity now satisfied. “Well, if you're going to work with me on the case, you might as well know what we know so far.”
He quickly briefed Merlin with what was known as they walked through Magicside toward its center. The terraced housing grew less uniform before breaking completely. As they walked through a tunnel toward the downtown area, Merlin could see Arthur's eyes darting to examine the wall art. Most was spray-painted, but other bits had been done in different ways. They were surrounded by various political slogans, poems, names encircled by hearts, and art of anything you could imagine, from magic being used in various ways to a random penguin somewhere.
It was hard to tell what Arthur thought, but he did not sneer like Merlin expected him to. Either he was hiding that expression for Merlin's sake which, judging by how he acted so far, Merlin doubted. Or, perhaps, he saw the beauty in it the way Merlin and most Magicsiders did.
As they neared the end of the tunnel, Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag with a black petal inside. He handed over a pair of blue gloves for Merlin to put on as well.
“Gwaine said you were an expert in flower languages. This was found in the note. Put the gloves on, and tell me what you make of it.”
Merlin took the bag from him, not bothering to put on the gloves, and inspected it carefully. He couldn't resist the urge to show off.
“That's a black Dahlia petal. It was likely chosen on purpose. The flower can mean sadness, betrayal, passion, power, or even mystery. But, honestly, if I wanted to communicate passion, there are about a hundred better flowers to do so. And, I can think of over twenty for power. The same for sadness. The only thing black Dahlia almost exclusively means is betrayal. So if it means something, and it likely does, it's betrayal. Unless, of course, they are using the Japanese meaning, which is kindness and positive change, and the killer is saying the murder caused positive change in the world.”
Arthur looked impressed. “You didn’t even have to touch it to identify it?”
Merlin shook his head. “Turns out, I know flowers. Shocking, since I work in a flower shop."
Arthur nodded. “So betrayal then, perhaps self-righteous murder. Good to know.” He didn't bother to say thank you.
“So, do you ever thank the people who help you? Or is that too much for an aloof officer like you?” Merlin asked. It wasn't that he needed to be thanked; it was that… Well, he didn't know why he was doing this, to be honest. Perhaps he was trying to understand the type of man Arthur was.
Arthur raised a brow. “You want me to thank you for everything? Thank you, Merlin, for telling me about flowers. Thank you for not stepping on my foot just there. Thank you for not randomly pinching my arm. Thank you for not calling me…”
“Enough!” Merlin interrupted, then paused. “Wait, what were you going to thank me for not calling you?”
“I actually had not decided yet.” Arthur actually admitted with a hint of a smile, “Probably some insult.”
“Was it prat?” Merlin asked pointedly. “Because just so you know, I’ve been calling you that in my head ever since we’ve met.”
Arthur looked at him, brows raised. “Rude. You have been mentally insulting your superior officer with the word prat?”
Merlin grinned. “Ah, but I’m a special consultant, you are not my superior officer!”
All right, Arthur was a prat. But he could be an entertaining one. He also continued to be unfairly handsome, and Merlin couldn't help but notice how the tunnel's shadows lit up his profile in a stark way that was almost enthralling.
“It comes to the same thing.” Arthur insisted.
“Does not.”
They exited the tunnel into the downtown area of Magicside. Arthur abruptly shifted into business mode, ending the argument.
“All right, take me to the pub. We need to examine the crime scene outside and then talk to the witnesses.”