Rating: K+
Summary: After the events of The Sins of the Father, Merlin seeks solace in the only place he is safe to be himself – the cavern beneath Camelot, the Great Dragon's prison. Oneshot.
Small spoilers for:
1.13 – Le Morte d'Arthur
2.07 – The Witchfinder
Spoilers:
2.08 – The Sins of the Father
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC.
Author's Note: My first Merlin fic! I just marathoned the whole series in the last week, and fell in love with the entire world and characters. I hope you enjoy! All criticism welcome. The harsher you are, the more my writing improves. Thanks to Sejal for beta-ing.
To Keep a Secret
Merlin treaded quietly down the stairs, the ancient stone corridor lit only with the glowing orb of light in his hand. He listened intently for any signs of breathing or the unique rasp of Kilgharrah's beating wings, but heard nothing save the unpredictable drip of water. Up ahead the tunnel opened into the giant cavern beneath the city and the dimmest of light reached his eyes. He paused, letting the orb vanish.
Why am doing this? he thought.
Snatches of memory replayed themselves over and over in his head. Arthur's question – "What if my father's attitude toward magic is wrong?" The hope. The chance that maybe one day he would be able to stand before Arthur as his true self, not in fear or deceit, but as a wizard and friend.
And then the dead words, cold in their pain and guilt.
"I am indebted to you, Merlin. I had become… confused. It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous, and that is thanks to you."
Merlin hit the cavern wall behind him with a fist, cold stone scraping his hand.
"I destroyed that," Merlin whispered in the near darkness. He closed his eyes against the knowledge, assured that it was the right choice. Arthur would have never forgiven himself. The guilt would have destroyed his friend. Camelot would have been thrown into chaos – the prince only king because he had murdered his father. Everything they had been fighting for would have been for nothing, the future unraveled before it could begin.
But still it hurt.
Merlin continued walking, this time without the aid of the orb of light. He could see well enough in the dim daylight ahead. After a few moments he reached the end of the corridor and entered the cavern, the massive space sensed not only by sight but by the feel of a great emptiness. The damp chill of the open air had him shivering and wishing for the warmth of the usual torch.
Kilgharrah was nowhere to be seen. As Merlin had hoped, the dragon, not having any reason to expect a visit, had not come to greet him.
Merlin closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of being absolutely alone. Unlike Ealdor, it was impossible to seek the solace of solitude in Camelot. It was a usual complaint from those who traveled from village to city, but for Merlin it was different.
"Srosolas!" Merlin shouted suddenly, eyes quickly opening, flashing with magic. The air before him swirled into a spiral, traveling upwards to the top of the cavern, out of site. His face alit with the sheer joy of the act, and he smiled in freedom.
To not use magic was to not live, and Merlin had not used it for so long, except in the fearful moment of danger, that it simply hurt. It was like not breathing, not smiling, not feeling the sunlight on one's face. He had thought it safe, to use it out in the open, in the idle moment when no one was looking.
But someone was always looking.
The horse in the smoke. The witchfinder. Gaius… Merlin would never risk that kind of danger again.
But he couldn't suppress the magic, either. Such a thing was too painful to bear.
And here, in the cavern where no one could see, Merlin was finally free.
"Toskatantal!" Merlin spoke. "Trailatok, toshkeenotsa, ferajla!"
The air before him shimmered for a moment, and then began to take shape. Water pulled from the air turned to ice and vapor, combining together into a beautiful living flower, melting and refreezing as it blew in an imaginary wind. He created another, and another, each one floating in the air, moving independently on separate whims from his mind.
The magic coursed through him, the feeling of warmth and sheer power spreading outward from his very soul. It was not the power of the magic that caused his spirit to lift and his whole body to fill with energy. It was the life of the magic, the raw force of existence, of creation.
Merlin drew from within to use magic, and the magic was his. But in using magic he could feel the connection between himself and all other things, living and nonliving, all of nature, all of creation.
Magic is existence. Magic is life. It is indescribable.
To keep that hidden, to make such a thing into a secret… Merlin wanted to share it with the world! To open up his arms and let the magic flow outwards, proving to people that magic can be a force for good. He wanted more than anything to show everyone its beauty.
"Someday! Someday I will show the world that magic is not something to fear, but something to cherish!" Merlin shouted into the emptiness. His words echoed faintly into the distance.
"I swear it! Arthur and I shall change Camelot! We will bring back magic!"
Merlin let the flowers evaporate, and stared into the vastness of the cavern.
"I can't keep doing this," he whispered quietly to himself. "I just can't. It's like being the best singer in all the land, and knowing that if you open your mouth even to speak, you will be killed immediately. It's like being a sculptor, surrounded by clay, and prevented from forming even the simplest pot."
Merlin ran his hands through his hair, and thought of the king, and his thanks.
"I'm a trusted ally in the fight against magic." He laughed bitterly. "I finally get the gratitude I've been wanting, and for what? Lying to Arthur. Bringing myself closer and closer to the cleavage block. Gaius tries to help, but he just doesn't understand. I'm standing here talking to no one because there is no one I can even talk to! How pathetic is that?"
Merlin closed his eyes in pain. He looked to the cavern, and let the stillness settle within him, calming his fears and turmoil. Eyes opening with intent, flashing gold and orange, he took a deep breath and focused.
"Birador! Shoshactava! Tristan!"
Orbs of blue and white light appeared before him, their inner structures swirling. They began to chase each other, dancing in the air, creating patterns as unique as the patterns on a snowflake.
Merlin held out his hand, open and palm up. He then carefully closed it, collapsing the spheres into a huge mesh of light.
"Quinta, quinta, quinta…" he muttered quietly as he shaped the light with his mind. He lost himself in concentration, carefully forming each structure. On an outward level, he knew Kilgharrah was watching him now, had at some point flown to and perched upon the mass of stone. But Merlin was intent upon his creation.
After minutes, after hours, he was not sure, but the daylight that had once filtered through the upper stone layers of the cavern was now gone, Merlin pulled himself away from his work. He breathed heavily, sweat on his brow, and stumbled backwards, sinking onto a knee.
"Very impressive, Merlin," said Kilgharrah.
"Thanks."
Merlin stared in awe at his recreation of Camelot, formed from nothing but light. It spanned between himself and the dragon, the size of the throne room. The citadel stood tall and proud, as it did in reality, and the surrounding walls were as tangible and strong as the ones even now protecting all the peoples of the city. Individual buildings lined the streets, and the crowded marketplace was rife with flashing lights as tiny glowing dots moved about, representations of people living their lives.
"This is… as fantastic as I imagined. I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it like I could see in my head. I still can't make anything close to people, though. It's just too much."
"Ah, yes, you are young. But one day you will be able to create every individual, based on your awareness of their very life force, and watch as they move about Camelot. You will be able to create their shadows, and see where they go without actually being there."
"Shadows? But it's light."
"Yes Merlin, shadows. You do not yet fully understand this kind of magic."
"Oh! That's rather creepy. Will I really be able to do that?" Merlin asked, incredulous.
"Only time will tell. But you have the potential."
Merlin shook his head, and stood. The two beings, creatures of the same old magic, watched as the Camelot made of light slowly faded into nothing, leaving them in complete darkness.
Merlin blinked hard.
"Ah, that was… difficult. But like stretching a sorely unused muscle."
Kilgharrah was silent.
"I guess… I should be going, then. Sorry for intruding."
Merlin turned to leave.
"Wait, Merlin," the ancient voice spoke, unreadable. "Why did you come here?"
"I just… I… I have no other place I can go. To just be myself. To use magic. Up there, it's a risk far too dangerous. But here…"
"My prison is your place of freedom. Aah, how amusing." The dragon gave a small chuckle as Merlin turned around in the darkness to face the great being. "Tell me, Merlin, how are you?"
Merlin's reply was quick.
"This isn't a social visit. I don't trust you."
"Nor I you. Though I do trust you enough to believe that one day you will keep your word, and set me free."
"That day is not today."
"No, it's not, is it. But that day will come, Merlin. Do not forget."
"I won't. I haven't! I swore it."
"Good," Kilgharrah growled.
"Just not yet."
The dragon let out a roar.
"Someday, boy, you will learn to quiet your tongue and not add unnecessary words."
Merlin stared at Kilgharrah uneasily. The dragon calmly stretched its wings, yawned, and then settled back down into a more comfortable position on its perch.
"Continue what you were doing, young warlock. Do not let my presence stop you."
"Uh, thanks. Is there, uh, anything you would like to see? I've been practicing illusion, as well."
The dragon tilted its head.
"You ask what I want?"
"Well, yeah. I'm the one intruding, after all."
"Very well. There is something I would like to see. The night sky. Can you do that?"
"Yeah." Merlin grinned. "Yeah, I can."
Merlin held out his hands, and breathed in and out deeply, three times. On the third exhale he clapped his hands together and brought them to his mouth and whispered through them, "Grahain."
In the darkness small lights appeared, like the embers of a fire blown into the wind. With each exhale, more dots of light appeared, until there was a billowing cloud hanging in the air. The dust-like specks hovered about him, and when the cloud was dense enough to cast light upon even the farthest reaches of the cavern, he stopped.
"Yuhura!"
The lights flew outwards and up, to the ceiling of the cave. They eddied into magnificent swirls and currents, moving through the darkness and leaving behind constellations. Merlin painted the ceiling with this dust until there were thousands of stars overhead, and when he was done, the remaining specks of light flew together to create a full moon, which ceased its movement and hung still in the new sky.
Kilgharrah looked up and stared, and the ancient face shone with true joy, and a longing so fierce that Merlin trembled at the thought of it. For the first time Merlin truly saw the sadness in the dragon's eyes, the pain of being trapped for so long. The great being remained staring for a long time, its eyes reflecting the white light of the magic like the surface of a lake reflects the night sky. Finally it turned to Merlin with a solemn expression.
"Thank you, young wizard. I will never forget this kindness."
Merlin hesitated for a moment, uncertain of what to say.
"You're welcome."
"You may undo the enchantment. I am sure it is difficult for you to maintain."
Merlin let the light fade into nothing, and the two were left yet again in darkness.
"It's not too bad, now. When I first tried light illusions, they almost made me pass out, they were so difficult." Merlin gave a brief smile. "My friend… He found me unconscious beneath a tree, where I'd been for half the day while my mom had been worried sick, trying to find me." The thought of Will no longer hurt, and instead Merlin simply felt a tenderness in his heart where once had been a gaping wound.
"Describe what this light is, Merlin. Where did you learn such magic?"
"You could tell, then? That this wasn't like the light I usually make?"
"Indeed."
"Well, when I was little, I would spend many summer nights outside, just looking up at the sky. And one time, it occurred to me that the light of the stars was as real as the water in the river, or the grass, or the wind. So I moved it around, and formed it into shapes. And then, after a while, I realized I could create light, in the same ways that the stars and the sun and the moon create light. Usually I take light and just change its shape and concentration. But it's different, what I just did."
"What do you create this light with?"
"Well, magic of course. Where else could it come from?" Merlin laughed, the question akin to asking a plant why it roots in the dirt.
"No, with what part of your self do you create it with?"
"I…" Merlin paused, thinking. "I just think of happy things, and my heart warms, and it appears."
"Ah."
The dragon pondered a thought, and then shook its head slightly, deciding against speaking. To create light with one's very own soul? That was high magic, a kind spoken of only sparingly, even in the texts and stories of the old religion. Yet here was Merlin, using it in the same way a child plays with a toy.
"So, is there anything else you'd like to see?"
The dragon gave a gentle laugh upon seeing the eager expression on Merlin's face. The boy was truly that – a boy, still wanting approval and praise from his elders. It was quite an elder he had chosen to attempt to impress.
"Surprise me."
Merlin considered something for a moment, and then cupped both hands, hiding them behind his back. He grinned at the dragon.
"I bet you can't guess what I'm making."
"Oh?"
"Yeah! Guess."
"Merlin, child, I can sense the change in the elements around you. I know it's a fireball. It's about to catch your shirt aflame."
"Oh. Oh, what!" The fireball suddenly burst upwards into the air above his head, and he quickly patted his back until the shirt was merely smoldering.
Kilgharrah laughed and laughed, and Merlin joined in without hesitation.
"That was rather stupid, wasn't it?" Merlin smiled.
"Indeed, it was. Do you conjure much fire?"
The fireball above his head floated to the air in front of him, and he stared at it, thinking.
"Not really. I make things burn, but I don't usually make the fire by itself."
"I see. Are you good at manipulating flame?"
"Yes, actually! It was one of the first things I practiced with. It was all I had to do, during the winters back at home, when I was stuck inside due to the snow. My mother and I only had ourselves to keep us company. My friend, Will, would travel to a different village before first snowfall, so I couldn't play with him. I would get bored so easily. Our home always had a warm fire in the fireplace, and I would create birds from the flames, and have them fly around the house. My mother loves birds."
Merlin smiled at the memory, at the laughter of his mother and the delight on her face, and the fireball morphed into a robin. The construct flew toward the dragon, carefully picking its path against an imagined gust of wind. It fluttered in circles around Kilgharrah's head, jovially tweeting a silent song. Eventually Merlin let it vanish.
"Was that from memory?"
"Sort of. It's hard to think up movement, so I use memory to show how it flies. But the bird itself is unique."
"I see. Merlin, I am curious – what will you make of this?"
Kilgharrah reared back, pointing its head upwards, and let out a giant roar of flame. Merlin instinctively stepped toward the exit, stumbling as the ground beneath him shook, but then paused and stared, considering. The flame drew him in, its power singing in his mind. His eyes alit, and as the dragon ceased its long roar, Merlin's eyes retained the color of fire.
The fire remained overhead, and Merlin bound it into a mass, roughly the size of Kilgharrah. The flame did not stand still, and continued to leap in all directions, fighting to be let loose. Merlin kept staring at it, unblinking.
The fighting movement slowly began to take shape, at first just a construct wider in the middle than on the ends, but then into wings, a head, and a tail. Merlin modeled this new dragon after Kilgharrah, and for every detail he settled on, the new flame dragon would then continue to move, beating its wings and thrashing its tail. By the time Merlin had formed the scales, the new dragon was already trying to break free of Merlin's will.
"I… I can't…" Merlin rasped out. "It's too powerful. It burns." Unblinking, his eyes continued to glow, a violent, uncontrollable shade of flame.
The moment lengthened into seconds, into minutes, perhaps into an eternity, and both dragons stared at Merlin impassively as he fought to control something beyond even his powers. The heat was unbearable, both that inside his mind and on his body. Every thought was consumed by the fire, and he could feel his self slipping away. The flame dragon reared back its head, about to breathe its first flame.
Kilgharrah suddenly shot up into the air, quicker than Merlin had ever imagined the great being could move, and flew through the flame dragon, letting out a magic-infused roar that dropped Merlin to his knees. The flame dragon disappeared in the space between moments, and Kilgharrah quietly regained his perch, unfazed.
"The fire of a dragon can become a new dragon. It is how we are born."
Merlin fell all the way to the floor and curled into a ball, letting the cold of the stone seep into his bones. He continued clutching at his knees, keeping his eyes tightly shut. They still burned.
"If I had let it breathe its first flame, it would have come to life. I would no longer be the last of my kind. But you are not yet powerful enough to survive such a thing. You would have died."
Merlin stayed silent, breathing heavily enough for it to sound like sobs.
"I never expected you to be able to shape the flame. I did not think you capable of taking it this far. You truly are a powerful warlock. I will not underestimate you again."
Still no response. The dragon waited, with an inhuman, steady patience. After a while, Merlin's breathing evened, and he cautiously uncurled. He rolled onto his stomach, hands clenching and unclenching against the stone ground. A while longer, and he finally sat up, eyes haunted and tinged red.
"I am sorry." The dragon dipped its head.
"What… what was that?" Merlin asked, voice rough. He stared up at the dragon, searching for answers as the memory of unbearable heat caused him to tremble.
"Dragon-fire. Magic of the old religion. You controlled it well."
"But I never controlled it."
"Ah?" Kilgharrah smiled.
"No, I just… guided it. No, that's not even right. It guided me, told me what form it wanted to take. I followed."
"That is correct. The raw force of life longs for structure. All you have to do is listen."
Merlin carefully stood, barely able. When he was successfully on his feet, he once again looked up at Kilgharrah. The dragon held the boy's gaze impassively, curious and uncertain of what Merlin would say. Silence stretched between them, broken finally when Merlin gave a quiet, "Thank you."
"You are not angry?"
"No… You saved me. You taught me an important lesson about magic," Merlin continued, gently speaking in a reverent voice. "You are not my friend, but you are not my enemy, either."
"We are of the same blood. If anything, I am your teacher, and your brother. We are kin. You are humble after facing that which is greater than yourself. Your wisdom sometimes surprises even me, Merlin. Leave here and rest."
"I shall." Merlin searched for more words to say, but his mind was too empty. "Farewell."
Merlin turned to go, and looked ahead into the darkness before him. He held up a hand, and hesitated just for a moment, the sensation of burning still fresh in his mind causing his hand to shake.
My magic, he thought.
The fear passed, and he formed a sphere of light. Merlin walked on into the darkness, guided by his soul, his magic, that which was an extension of his very life force. The exhaustion was almost overwhelming, and his soul felt scraped raw. Yet through the pain Merlin felt true freedom for the first time in years. Magic! His mind still sung with the power and the life of it, and he grinned in the darkness, again able to face the peril and uncertainty of the upper world with the firm knowledge of all that could someday be.
Kilgharrah watched Merlin leave, silent until the boy was out of earshot. The ancient soul trembled with certainty.
"Merlin, your destiny is greater than even what I have predicted. You formed constructs out of magic far beyond the detail that sorcerers three times your age can craft. You created light from your very soul. You shaped dragon flame. Not even I know what you shall one day become, Emrys."