DNO.
Warning(s): No happy ending.
if the boy lives , you cannot fulfill your destiny
Merlin hadn't understood what the Dragon meant back then, when Mordred first appeared in Camelot a shaken soul. In Merlin's eyes, the boy was a simple sorcerer, like him. Someone that was scared and needed protection. He couldn't believe it when the Dragon tried to tell him that Mordred was going to be his Prince's downfall.
He just couldn't.
The boy, no more than ten, wasn't kind of person.
Besides, why would he do something like that?
This question plagued the appointed Royal Advisor long after Mordred left Camelot, long after his Prince became his King. It wasn't until the public Queen, Gwen, came rushing into his room one afternoon with worry staining her pretty, pretty face, "Arthur has gone out to battle."
That wasn't new.
"He's... Merlin, he's battling Mordred."
it seems that is up to you
Merlin could have very well been flying. The wind the whipping past him, slapping him hard across the face, but he took no notice. This wasn't the time. There was no time. Arthur was battling Mordred. Mordred. The little boy whose, supposed, destiny was to kill Arthur. Merlin could take no chances.
Finally arriving on the battle field Merlin stumbled off his horse, desperation clouding his mind and fumbling his actions. Throwing a frantic glance around, the warlock struggled to find the King. "Arthur!" he called, he cried, he stumbled. Falling around the deceased knights that he payed no attention to. Ominous clouds were beginning to rear their ugly heads on the horizon, tainting the originally peaceful sky, as if they knew the battle had already been lost. Perhaps they did.
"We meet again, Emrys."
Merlin spun around to face to the one boy, nay, one man, he wished he would never have to face again.
"Mordred."
you have it in your power to stop a great evil
A sly smile began to grow on the man's face (he'snottheboyanymore) as he surveyed the area, "Amazing isn't it?"
Pay no attention, Merlin thought, you have to find Arthur.
"Where is Arthur?" the elder of the two demanded, his fists clenching, eyes flashing. A scowl grew on Mordred's face, angry that he was being ignored, angry that his Emrys paid him no attention, anrgyangryangry.
"Why?"
"Where is he, Mordred?" Merlin's eyes flashed the sinful gold that had captivate the King many a night spent in each other's company. The ground around him began to shake and shiver in anticipation of the enraged man's next move. Small particles of dust being thrown into the air that had become strangely still. "Answer me!"
Silence, then Mordred slowly turned and pointed to a fallen body not far off.
Fallen. Fallenfallenfallenfallen-
Dead.
"No." came Merlin's strangled cry. He hurtled forwards towards the King he loved. "No!"
you and the boy are as different as night and day
Merlin understood now, as he lay crouched above his King, his friend, his destiny, his everything. A rain had started, beginning the cleansing process. Merlin payed no attention, no attention to the thunder warning him of the approaching storm, nor of the movement of Mordred as he walked away. Nothing. The warlock only had eyes for the dead (hecouldn'tbedead,hewasn'tallowedtoleavehimherealone!) man that lay before him. It was instant, that you could tell, for Arthur's baby blues had been staring up at the, then, serene sky. They weren't closed.
Arthur would have closed his eyes.
"This my fault." Merlin found himself whispering as he thumbed the eyelids shut before gently brushing away the hair that was sticking to the worn face of the King. "This is all my fault."
The tears were forming now, piling up at the corners of the broken man's eyes. Clouding his already fogged vision. Leaning forward, Merlin placed his forehead against Arthur's one last time, his tears now falling upon the peaceful (?) man's face. They crashed against his nose, his cheeks, his eyes, creating the illusion that the King was crying as well. Maybe he was. Perhaps, tears were streaming down his face as he entered the gates of Avalon far, far away.
But the sorcerer above him wouldn't know. He was stuck on the battlefield.
"I'm sorry Arthur." Merlin whispered, his golden eyes still full of tears, his clothes drenched in the sorrow of the heavens, his land littered with the corpses of the brave knights of Camelot.
you must let the boy die.
"I'm so sorry."
e n d
I had the ending written out before I had the beginning in my head. And I greatly depressed myself by writing this.
This is based of the conversation Merlin had with the Great Dragon about Mordred, who apparently kills Arthur in the legends. or something. Aaanyways~
ConCrit welcome, flames will be used for s'mores.
Danke. :D