The Path We Choose

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warnings: Mild spoilers for season 5, if you've yet to see those episodes that have aired.


In the end, the final battle for Arthur's soul is nothing like what anyone expected. Despite Merlin's gift from the druid, despite the dragon's warning, despite everything, he is betrayed. But as he watches the body of his closest friend in the world is carried in procession by the adoring Knights of Camelot, the warlock wonders whether he could truly have prevented all of this. His eyes darken as he thinks of those last days; his hands tremble in their clenched form at his sides and Merlin, or Emrys, as he is known to some, promises damnation upon the one who has brought such suffering to the Kingdom he has given so much to.

He is silent throughout dinner, throughout the next morning and well into the next day. The hustle and bustle of daily life is lost upon Merlin as everything skids to a halt, despite Guinevere's attempt to make it continue as normal. The warlock's days fade in and out; for now there is no King to protect, no friend to serve, he is lost; a stone tossed in an ever changing ocean that does not need him nor recognise him. So Merlin waits. He waits, he watches, and he thinks. He sees the bringer of Arthur's death weave in and out of the lives that settle about Camelot; watching it all with a sense of detachedness, despite Gaius ready to combust at his side with impatience and aggravation.

Slow, slow. Nothing in haste, after all.

Three years to the day, and Merlin's moment has come. The knights are off on a pilgrimage to Arthur's resting place, whilst Merlin and… him have offered to stay behind. The other man affects worry for Camelot, though Merlin knows that it is, truly, guilt. Merlin stays, he claims, for Guinevere, and though there are a few raised eyebrows, no one questions too closely. Merlin is glad. It makes things easier, after all. He waits patiently for his moment. The opportunity comes nearly a week after the knight's departure, when Merlin is about to give up and hope for another opportunity. Guinevere has left the Castle on a rare walk around the gardens, leaving Merlin with just enough time.

He almost skids his way to his room, knowing exactly where the other will be. All sorts of memories flash within his mind as Merlin moves oh-so-quickly across the floors, crossing distance with the urgency of one whose very life hangs in the balance. And maybe, who knows, Merlin's might. Magic crackles all around him, as Merlin skids to a halt in front of the destined door. He throws it open with a shout of magic, and thrusts his hand forward, forcing a bolt of power between his fingers and at the person standing there, anger and hatred and grief and everything since Arthur's death finally, finally coming free. Every curse Merlin knows, every word, every thought, every magical doom is unleashed, and the room swirls with power burning brightly.

It is not until Guinevere returns from her walk, some hours later, that the screams begin. Servants rush here and forth, trying to find her. Merlin, calm now, composed, waits a while before he begins the walk towards Guinevere's cries. As he opens the door, and views the body on the floor, the warlocks' mind grows blank.

Whatever made him Mordred is gone. The druid's eyes are opened wide, his mouth slack with terror. There is no flicker of life in the blue eyes that so terrified Merlin with their promise of secrets and doom. Guinevere looks up at Merlin with tears in her eyes, but the warlock cannot bring himself to even pretend to care. He glares at Guinevere, and turns away, calmly, finally content.