Title: Dragon's Breath
Summary: Arthur is dying, and there's nothing Merlin can do. But someone else has the power to save the king. Will Destiny allow Camelot's king to rule a while longer? Spoilers for 5x13. And a new ending.
Notes: I really did love the finale, and in a lot of ways, I agree that the story had to end as it did, with Arthur's death and the promise of his return. It was a gorgeous ending. But another part of me wants a happy ending so that I can at least imagine a Camelot where Arthur has a long and prosperous reign with Merlin at his side.
I planned for this to be a short three or four chapter thing, but it's since developed a life of its own.
Percival had thought that Gwaine's screams would haunt him forever, but it was nothing compared to the sight of his friend, broken and dying.
"I've failed," Gwaine said in a weak, raspy voice.
"No," Percival denied. "You haven't." Gwaine's eyes closed and Percival started to panic. "Gwaine," he said softly, repeating his friend's name. "Gwaine."
As he held Gwaine in his arms, listened to his shallow, stuttering breaths, Percival knew that his friend was close to death. There had been so much death in recent days; it felt as if the ground was soaked in it, as though Percival had bathed in blood and would never be clean. And now, Morgana was marching towards Avalon to find Arthur and kill him while Gwaine was slowly dying in Percival's arms. It was more than Percival's heart could take.
They'd thought they could stop Morgana, but they'd been wrong, so wrong and so foolish. All they'd done was make it worse. All they'd done was place Arthur in even greater danger. Percival understood why Gwaine felt he had failed, because he shared the same burden of guilt.
They should never have come. Percival should have convinced Gwaine that this was a foolish mission. He should have been the voice of reason.
And now, because of their actions, both Arthur and Gwaine might die. Both of them were dying, even as Percival sat in the dirt, staring at his comrade and feeling the tears gather in his eyes.
There were only two options open to him, now. He could leave Gwaine here, condemning him to die alone, and set out to find Arthur, to try somehow to protect him from Morgana. Or he could take Gwaine back to Camelot, ride as fast as he possibly could, and pray that Gaius could save him. Either way he might fail, and two good men, two of his closest friends, could pay for that failure with their lives.
In the end, Percival found himself acting before he had even made a conscious decision. He couldn't abandon a fellow knight, a brother in arms, without trying to save him. Arthur wasn't alone; he had Merlin, and Percival knew that Merlin would never abandon the king. Percival only hoped that the two of them could hold out until he was able to join them.
Quickly scooping Gwaine up in his arms, Percival returned to their horses.
"Hang on, Gwaine. Don't give up on me now. Just hang on." He tied Gwaine to his own horse before swinging up into the saddle behind him, keeping one arm wrapped around his companion and riding for Camelot as though his life depended on it.
When Arthur's eyes drifted shut, Merlin felt his heart stop. He was losing him right before his eyes, and there seemed to be nothing he could do. It was desperation that led him to call Kilgharrah, desperation and heart-wrenching grief.
His fear was blinding him, but he was too single-minded to realize it. For nearly a decade, his life had revolved around Arthur. Even now, nothing mattered beyond his friend's life.
He didn't notice that Kilgharrah said nothing – no warnings, no advice, not even a greeting. He merely nodded in acceptance of Merlin's request and allowed Merlin to climb onto his neck, pulling the limp and silent king with him.
Merlin was tense with apprehension, almost shaking with the fear that he would be too late. He didn't even know what he was supposed to do, or how he would convince the Sidhe to use their magic to save Arthur. Perhaps he could draw on their magic himself, call on the ancient powers of the earth that dwelt at Avalon and bend them to his will. Merlin didn't know what he was capable of anymore, didn't know if he had the power to save Arthur or the power to change anything. Perhaps thwarting prophecies and changing destiny was simply beyond him. But Merlin knew he had to try. It was Arthur, after all. They were brothers in all but blood, and Merlin wouldn't stop until every last hope was extinguished.
The sky slowly brightened and the dim gray light turned to dawn as the wind whispered beneath Kilgharrah's wings. Merlin held tightly to Kilgharrah's back, and even tighter to Arthur.
They landed at the edge of the lake, bathed in the first rays of morning sunshine, and Merlin dragged Arthur towards the boat moored at the shore's edge.
"Merlin," Kilgharrah stopped him. "There's nothing you can do."
He felt his heart turn to ice. "I've failed?"
"No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building has come to pass." Kilgharrah's voice was uncharacteristically gentle, soft and reassuring. But Merlin felt his grief overpowering him again.
He hoisted Arthur into his arms with a cry, struggling again towards the boat and the edge of the lake. Merlin's life had been spent fighting for Arthur, protecting him. Even in the face of defeat, Merlin couldn't stop fighting and his heart rebelled against Kilgharrah's words, even as he knew – had known for some time now – that he was right. There was nothing Merlin could do.
"I can't lose him!" Merlin cried. "He's my friend!"
Kilgharrah let out a long sigh. "His wounds are far beyond your ability to heal, Merlin. The Sidhe will not save him, nor is there anything that you can do for him if you reach the isle of Avalon."
Merlin shook with the power of his tears, clinging to Arthur stubbornly as he wept. On some level, he'd always felt that it would come to this. Destiny had blessed Merlin in so many ways, but it cursed him at the same time, and despite all of his efforts, he never seemed able to change it, never was able to save the people who mattered the most.
"The strength of your love has always been your greatest gift, young warlock. Though it did not always lead you down the right path, your compassion and your love for those around you always guided your steps. It is a human trait, but one I have come to admire."
Kilgharrah's words made no sense to Merlin. He sunk to the grassy shore, still holding Arthur to his chest. He tried to answer the dragon, but no words would come.
"It is because of that compassion and all that you have done for me that I choose to leave you with one last gift."
"I don't understand."
"Lay Arthur down, Merlin, and come to me."
Hesitantly, Merlin obeyed, reduced to the state of a compliant child in the face of Kilgharrah's command. Merlin walked right up to Kilgharrah, who lowered his head until he was nearly eye to eye with his dragonlord.
"Only the most ancient of magic can save Arthur now. And my magic is more ancient than any, even that of the Sidhe. I am not as strong as I once was, but I believe I have strength enough for this."
"Are you saying you can help him?"
"Yes."
Suddenly, Merlin recalled Gaius's words back in the forest. Saving Arthur would take a power as ancient as the dragons themselves. But Merlin hadn't thought that would mean….
"You'll die. Won't you?"
"All things die in time, young warlock. You know this. And I am old." For a moment, Merlin thought he could see the ancient power in Kilgharrah's eyes, weighed down by the thousands of years of history that Kilgharrah had born witness to.
"But know this," Kilgharrah warned. "No man, no matter how great, can know his own destiny. Some lives have been foretold, Merlin. It was always Arthur's destiny to die, to rest here at Avalon, and to rise again when Albion's need is greatest. For Arthur is not just a king; he is the once and future king. That destiny will still come to pass. All I can do is to delay it for a time."
"I understand," Merlin said, though he wasn't sure if he truly did. All he knew was that he felt both an incredible hope and an incredible sadness. "Kilgharrah, I can't order you to do this. I won't order you. But…"
"But you wish it," Kilgharrah said softly. "Do not be sad, my friend. I do this of my own free will as my last gift to you and out of gratitude for all you have done for me and my kind. Now, go to your king."
Merlin did, kneeling at Arthur's side and gently supporting him. He didn't look up, but he could feel Kilgharrah's warm breath blow over them both. A moment later, Arthur stirred weakly in Merlin's arms.
As blue eyes blinked open, Arthur looked confused. "Merlin?"
"Arthur."
Arthur winced in pain and tried to move, but his weakness forced him back. "What did you do?"
"He did nothing," Kilgharrah's voice startled them both. As Arthur looked up at the Great Dragon, his eyes widened. "It is I who revived you, young Pendragon, and it is I who will save you."
Arthur was clearly too confused to reply, and too weak to do anything else.
"I want you to know who it is that heals you. And why. I do not do this for you, young king, though I have no doubt you will prove worthy of the gift. Instead, I choose to save you out of allegiance to your servant and my lord. You would do well to value his loyalty."
Merlin pulled away from Arthur then, and rose to his feet, standing between the king and the dragon.
"Kilgharrah…" Merlin's voice broke.
"It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock. The story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men."
With that, Kilgharrah returned his attention to Arthur, gathered his magic, and exhaled over Arthur. The magic shimmered in the sunshine, swirling between them and wrapping around Arthur in tendrils of light. Arthur gasped, his eyes widening as he felt the dragon's breath surround him and the magic fill him.
As Kilgharrah exhaled the last of his magic, Arthur's eyes drifted closed and he sank back onto the grass in a peaceful sleep. Merlin knelt at his side, placing his hand on his chest to feel its steady rise and fall with each breath. Then he stood again and walked to Kilgharrah's side.
The dragon was slumped on the ground, head resting on one large clawed foot. Merlin placed one hand on his cheek and Kilgharrah smiled slightly. He opened his eyes and looked at Merlin for one long moment, then his eyes drifted closed and he let out one last puff of breath.
Merlin had felt his own magic respond as the Great Dragon's breath restored Arthur. For a moment, it had seemed as if magic was singing all around them, almost laughing with joy as it danced around the king, the sorcerer, and the dragon.
But now, Merlin felt something deep inside of himself crack as Kilgharrah's heart stopped. He felt the dragon die, the connection they'd always had snapping, leaving a painful wound in Merlin's heart.
Gently stroking the side Kilgharrah's face, Merlin felt more tears fall.
"Goodbye, old friend," he whispered.
For a long time, Merlin sat on the ground between the body of the fallen dragon and the peacefully sleeping king, his entire being torn between immeasurable joy and soul-deep grief. But at that moment, Merlin knew this was how it was supposed to be.