Tarot of the Week
Author's Note: The Star is of wishes and dreams, of hopes and inspirations. It's generally depicted as a very light-hearted card. But realistically, there are good wishes and bad wishes, good outcomes and bad outcomes. Here is a story about a wish that affected thousands. This fanfic is inspired by a number of other fanfics, so you will likely see several familiar ideas.
XXXXX March 24, 2018 XXXXX
Week 12: The Star (Merlin)
Ever since she was a little girl, Ygraine has dreamt of many things. She dreams of the oak that will fall by a lightning strike, the fire that will rage in a village and would claim five lives, the mighty dragons that soar the open skies, the twins that will be borne by her aunt, the famine that will plague the land, the flowers that bloom at the peak of the White Mountains only during a full moon.
And most importantly, she dreams of the Queen she will become, the man she will marry, the woman she will call her sister, the son she will bear, and the fate that awaits them all.
Over the years, she has learnt that the future is not set in stone and the things she has dreamt will not always come to pass, word for word, scene by scene. There are many paths that mankind could walk. But, even as limited as the magic she has, she can See that darkness lays ahead and only a few paths have a light at the end; even then, some lights are dimmer than others and only one blazes like the sun. Unfortunately, the brighter the goal, the darker the journey.
She dreams of thousands screaming and burning in a pyre. She dreams of the innocent blood shed across the land. She dreams of the terror the children will grow up with, the hatred that will come to learn. She dreams of the beauty of magic being marred by fury and lies. She dreams of the king that will rise and the loyal warlock that will forever stand by his side. She dreams of the prosperous kingdom they will build. And she dreams of the birth, the death, and the grief that will start it all.
Ygraine gazes lovingly at the baby, her prince and her king, cradled in her arms as she explains everything to horror-struck Nimueh. "For that future I saw, for Hunith's son, and for the king our son will become, I am willing to walk this path a thousand times over. My daily nightmares, my guilt in being the trigger to all those deaths, and my own death is the price I will pay. Thousands of sorcerers and magical creatures will pay with their lives. The Druids will live isolated and in fear. And Camelot will gain numerous magical enemies."
"And what about me?" her sister in all but blood asks, choking on her tears, "What is the price I must pay?"
Sorrowful eyes look up at her. "You will be my witness, dear Nimueh. That is your price." A pause, then a plea. "Promise me that you will keep Arthur safe from Uther. Uther will go mad from grief and the inability to bear his guilt. He will shift the blame to anything but himself. I cannot bear it should the paths where Arthur dies before his time come to pass."
The High Priestess straightens up and nods, "I promise. I will guarantee that the brightest future you saw will be the only path that the world can take."
"Wha-? How? No sorcerers could possibly do that."
Nimueh summons a ball of magic, already starting to weave the web that will determine the fate of the world. "No sorcerers, yes," she agrees, voice and eyes distant.
xxxxx
Hours later, she stands by Ygraine's deathbed as Uther howls his grief, half of her mind still preoccupied with her web. This is dangerous magic and not something that anyone has ever tried or succeeded before. She is not certain whether her sanity and powers will stay intact, but she will still do it, for her sister and soulmate and for the son borne from Nimueh's magic, Uther's seed, and Ygraine's body.
"Bring her back!" the king demands, "You have magic. Do something!"
"I have warned you that a price must be paid," she smiles, eyes glazed over as she seals away the magic Arthur has inherited from Ygraine, making it a part of her web. Once he meets Emrys, the seal will slowly dissolve, breaking completely when the moment is right. "A life for a life, remember?"
Furious and teary eyes glare at her. "Then take that misbegotten boy back! His life for hers!"
"I cannot."
With a growl, he unsheathes his sword and charges towards the crib. The tip of the sword is mere inches away from the gurgling baby only to be frozen when a slender hand lands on his tense shoulders.
"You will love him, Uther," Nimueh whispers into his ears, voice as smooth as wine, laced with magic and a poisonous promise. "You will love him more than your kingdom and more than yourself. You will always see Ygraine in him. He is the wound that will never heal, the grief that will never fade. This is the price you must pay," she hisses. Then she steps back, looking across the room at the late queen, "Ygraine, our son will be protected, even from me."
The sword drops from slacken fingers and lands on the ground with a clang, startling the young prince into wailing. This snaps the king out of his reverie and he hurries to sooth his son. By the time Arthur settles down for a nap, the sorceress is already long gone.
xxxxx
When screams deafens the land, smoke chokes the sky and the scent of burning flesh leaden the air, Nimueh can be found in a nearby cave, taking each death that has been prophesized by Ygraine and weaving their magic into her spell. The web will become more cemented for every life that has been and will be lost in Uther's Purge.
Instead of flying free, Balinor will buy Uther's lies and the Great Dragon will be chained beneath Camelot. Gaius will help Balinor escape and the last Dragonlord will head to Elador where he will meet Hunith and unknowingly sire a son. Instead of running away and being happily together, Balinor will flee and live, alone and bitter. Instead of coming across the Druids and being supported by them, Hunith will stay in Elador and Merlin will learn fear and will not learn control for years to come. Then, Hunith will send him to Camelot where his destiny will begin.
Throughout it all, as the dead sorcerers' magic flows with hers in the web, Nimueh feels every death as if it is her own, witnessing it all just as Ygraine has promised. She feels her sanity slipping away as her flesh melts from her bones over and over again. But she is the High Priestess and her magic compartmentalizes her deaths, their deaths, away, until it feels like a constant, but distant, waking dream.
She looks to her left, eyes gazing over unseeingly, "And knowing this is the price you must pay, Arthur Pendragon."
xxxxx
Twenty-five years in the future and in the Crystal Cave, Arthur and Merlin stare back at her in horror, both sets of blue eyes now golden with magic.