Title: The price you pay
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: The whimper that came out of his mouth as she called out his name told her this time it was different. This was beyond their childish threats and halfhearted attempts at his or her life. Morgana finds Merlin on the rooftop. Spoilers for 5x10.
AN: Just a little tag for this episode that takes place after Morgana witnesses Finna's death.
-ll-
Merlin ignores the weariness, the burning on his right side, Finna alone downstairs marching into her own death, the amount of effort it takes just to breathe, everything – until he reaches the top and the cold night air hits him hard, like a slap in the face of a cowardly man. Full moon lights up his way as he stumbles a few more steps before collapsing on the ground.
His right side feels like it's on fire. With a shaky hand he reaches out to put pressure on the wound and stop the bleeding. The pain at the contact is instant and he wants to cry out but his voice fails him so he shuts his eyes tightly, taking slow, even breaths. It subsides eventually into a dull, throbbing pain and only then does he realize that his cheeks are wet.
The sky is surprisingly clear tonight, stars twinkling and he concentrates on the never ending beauty that fills his line of vision and tries to ignore the pain. But it's hard to concentrate on anything. Even the words that he used to call Kilgharrah keep escaping his mind. He doesn't want to think. All he wants to do is close his eyes and sleep, not think of the old, ancient words and did he pronounce them in the right order. Did he even say it out loud, could Kilgarrah even hear him? His voice was too low, too weak and the dragon was so, so far away.
So he closes his eyes for just a minute feeling his body relax instantly, making it a little easier to breathe through the pain. Just one more moment of rest and then he'll call the dragon again and-
The unmistakable sound of footsteps on the wooden floor distracts him, setting all his senses on high alert – he was not alone anymore, someone was coming. With a huge amount of effort he manages to open his eyes only to have his line of vision blocked by the endless waves of dark hair that hide away the pristine white skin and those emerald green eyes. Everything looks distant and blurry to him and through the fog he reaches out to move the strand of the hair that's hiding out her face but that takes a great deal of strength he does not have right now.
His hands feel so heavy, almost as much as his eyelids and so finally he lets them close completely, relishing in the relief that the darkness provides.
-ll-
There was little that could surprise Morgana these days. Having ruthless killers as company more often than not, living in a dark, moist hovel for months, being hated by her own father has taught her that. When you go into the war you expect to get your hands bloody and to see things that back then would make her heart stop but now a frown was all that gave her away.
But nothing could prepare her for the sight that awaited her at the top of the tower.
Guess the High priestess of the Old religion could still get surprised by Arthur's poor little manservant. A servant who was currently lying on the cold floor – a familiar sight – as she was often the one to put him in that same position but this time what she saw did not bring a smile to her face.
The whimper that came out of his mouth as she called out his name told her this time it was different. This was beyond their childish threats and halfhearted attempts at his or her life. This was real. As real as the crimson red blood on her fingertips.
His life in her hand.
Merlin was trembling, eyes half closed, underlined with big reddish, purple circles that swallowed away any light that was left in usually bright blue eyes. On his right side his shirt was turning darker with alarming speed.
"What are you doing here?" she asked frantically, grabbing his hand, unaware of the pain she was causing him, "Where is Emrys?"
She wasn't even sure he heard her but then he lifted his hand, reaching out for her in his feverish daze. Morgana could see his dry, blue lips move as he tried to say something just before his eyes closed completely and he let out a breath she feared was his last.
Then the moon darkened and she heard the flapping of the wings, much like Aithusa's when she was younger, when she could still fly and she looked up at the sky to see a dragon approaching them. Morgana looked down at the unconscious boy before retreating back, hiding behind one of the walls. Her powers were helpless against dragons.
Miraculously enough the creature did not seek to attack her (it barely paid her any attention) choosing to focus on Merlin instead before grabbing him from the ground in an almost gentle manner, taking him away. All she could do was watch and wonder why would a dragon care about a servant?
-ll-
Merlin awoke to a terrible headache, made worse by the light coming through the tree branches above his head. It was morning already, the bright sun rays fighting their way through the thick forest trees and still he felt cold. The fact that he was lying on the wet grass probably had something to do with that, so he set up a little too quickly, grabbing his head as the world spun around him. He still felt weak, a fact that he only ate an apple in almost two whole days certainly did not help matters but it was the thirst that was difficult to ignore. He wetted his lips in an attempt to relieve the sensation.
Only then did he notice that he could actually breathe freely. Looking down at the place where the arrow hit him he found nothing but a patch of milky white skin. There wasn't even a scar. If not for some dried up blood and a tear on his shirt he would've thought it was all just one big nightmare.
Leaning back on one of the trees, he pulled his feet closer, closing his eyes with a sigh. The whole previous night was a blur of images that refused to connect. Dark green eyes, wild raven hair. A hand pressed on his side – a sharp, blinding pain and then an overwhelming feeling of comforting warmth. Relief. Magic.
She was there.
Did she finally know the truth? It won't take long for him to answer that question as they would undoubtedly meet again. The battle at Camlann was looming over them all, weighing heavy on his shoulders.
-ll-
Every time she looked towards the moon Morgana kept seeing that dragon, flying away with dying Merlin in its clutches, saving him from her much more dangerous claws. But why? It made no sense.
There were doubts, little whispers she heard around her castle, from her own soldiers, about the mysterious boy on the rooftop and Emrys but she dismissed it all with a laugh. How could a kind, ignorant servant be one of the greatest warlocks to ever live in this land? It was ridiculous.
And if he was the one they claimed he was, why hasn't he killed her by now? He surely had more than enough chances to do so and more than one reason to end her life for good.
That night, after a very long time, Morgana dreamed. She dreamed of Merlin standing in the Camelot's back yard, a little weary and breathless but alive. When he spoke his voice sounded foreign to her, deeper and filled with confidence she never knew he possessed, "You are no match for me Morgana."
Morgana bit down a laugh, simply unable to relate the man she once knew with the way he looked standing in front of her now, with the words he was saying. It wasn't an empty threat, she could tell by the way his eyes darkened, the fingers of his right hand moving, eager to prove his point. Still he made no move.
For a moment, when he faced her and the light hit him she could've sworn his eyes turned from blue to gold but maybe it was just the sun making her imagine things.
She dreamt about her destiny…
About a field covered with fallen soldiers, the air thick with smoke, Camelot's torn flags wavering in the wind, Arthur lying dead a few feet away. Blood red sky was stretching as far as she could see and Emrys was standing over her, casting a shadow, making her shiver but not from the cold.
"Help me Emrys, please-" she begged, feeling as if she's dreamt of this before (of the man in a long robe, with white hair and dark eyes). Only this time he wasn't old at all, his hair wasn't white but black and his old robe was replaced with the brawn jacket and a familiar neckerchief hung around his neck loosely.
The breath caught in her throat. Merlin looked more gone then he did when he was lying unconscious and half dead on that roof. There were no tears in his hunted blue eyes, no emotions readable on his face at all - just resignation with his fate, with what he had to do.
"Is this really what you wanted Morgana?" he asked and she wanted to tell him how sorry she was, for everything but it wouldn't be the truth. She was blind in her pursuit of the throne, ignorant of the hurt she'd cause (not just to others but to herself), of the people she'd lose. Worst of all she didn't see how far her actions would push someone as innocent as Merlin but there was no time left now.
"No," was all she managed to say, reaching out for him just before the darkness consumed her.
…and her doom.
"No," she screamed, sitting up in her bed, reaching for something that wasn't there.
(the end)
AN: A little farfetched, I know but I really hoped Morgana would find out about Merlin in this episode and was a little disappointed she hasn't and this idea just wouldn't leave me alone.