Synopsis: Camelot is in danger from an unspeakable evil and Merlin never lived to find his prince. Avalon's Enforcers is their only chance now; Camelot's only chance for freedom, Uther's only chance for repentance, and Arthur's only chance for his destiny.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Chapter Rating: PG
Story Rating: R
Word Count: 1096
WARNINGS: A LOT of death and violence in this one. You were forewarned.
Special Notices: Inspired by 'A Bad Dream' by Keane, and 'Guardian Angel' by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Also HUUUUUGE thanks to Chloe for more or less co-writing this story. She is amazing! XD
Disclaimer:I don't own Merlin, but I do own some maracas. Wanna see?! …you don't. *sigh* Fine, just read the fic, courtesy of Auntie Beeb…
Chapter One
The Hero's Death
"Heaven is the creation of humans, and so inevitably it is imperfect." – Me.
Merlin Emrys died on his fifth birthday.
The icy hands of winter had wrapped ruthlessly around his tiny village, holding tight until the very land choked. Previously strong emerald green plants withered and died without caution, and furious winds howled down through the cracks in aging thatches roofs. Already a tiny slip of a boy, Merlin felt the cold quickly soak into his bones, freezing his blood in his veins. Desperately Hunith tried to push some of her food onto her tiny son's plate – like any good mother would – but without fail the food would return to her plate every night untouched.
Only one week into the harsh winter, Merlin was wheezing and crying with illness. Wracking coughs made his tiny body convulse wildly and his skin burned with the intensity of the baker's oven and the village bonfire combined and so much more. Every day his mother sat with him, stroking blessedly cool fingers through his tangled sweaty hair as he shook with fever. He hated it when she cried.
Twelve days into that fateful winter, on the twelfth of November, barely reaching the tender age of five, Merlin Emrys took his last shuddering breath and died in the arms of his grieving mother.
"Oi, Emrys! Get your skinny arse over here and hug me you git!" Wide grin spreading over his pale face Merlin leapt to his feet in a flurry of wild limbs and tousled wings, practically tackling Lancelot in his excitement. Lance had been sent away on a guardian mission and it had simply been too long for the best friends to be apart.
The instant Merlin released Lance (who greedily drew in great gulps of air) he barraged him with questions about Earth, eager to know all about his old home. Silent tears slipped over his cheeks when he heard his mother was still mournful for him but Lance didn't make a fuss as Merlin swiped the wet trails away. Lance had then graciously changed the subject, telling him all about the pranks he had pulled against unwitting mortals and Merlin had chortled happily, already scheming on how to one-up Lance when he would visit Earth. Finally conversation turned to the newest assignment, Merlin's first assignment to be precise.
"So, you nervous short-fry?" Merlin scowled up at Lance, who took any opportunity to gloat about the two inches height difference between them. But soon his mind revolved back to the question and his stomach roiled with nervous butterflies that flitted restlessly. Watching Merlin tug on the already frayed ends of his white sleeves Lance could see just how scared he was. It was only fair. Poor Merlin, powerful sorcerer and natural conundrum to all of Avalon, was being thrown in the deep end without mercy.
Gently squeezing a bony shoulder Lance reassured Merlin he would be fine, "Don't forget, I'll be there to save your scrawny arse!", but the truth shone through Merlin's eyes. The pressure was settling in and the anticipation of being so close to Earth again was almost too much to bear. Smiling weakly at Lance Merlin raised his wings and followed the twisting currents and recited every spell he knew for the umpteenth time, knowing that on this mission his magic could be the difference between life and death. Because whoever said angels couldn't die was a damn fool.
The morning of the assignment dawned all too soon and Merlin hadn't slept for even a second. His night had been filled with drooping eyes and murmured spells, cramming every last useful fact he could into his over packed brain. Now gliding to the meeting place his wings felt like lead and his golden eyes stung against the usually soothing rush of air.
Landing on shaky feet Merlin stumbled over to Lancelot who half-smiled knowingly and let the shorter angel lean against him. The scorching sun warmed the soft green grass beneath his bare feet, the tarmac paths much too hot this time of year, and Merlin smiled. Avalon was so different from what he had expected – no angels playing ridiculously fruity lute music as they lounged on fluffy white clouds, heck, no one even had a halo! He was sad to leave, even if he did get to return to Earth.
Before he could become too engulfed in his own rather depressive thoughts, the General strode into the room. The General was unusually burly for an angel, unkempt I appearance because of his rough stubble and the scars littering his body, but his personality was disciplined and graceful; a true oxymoron.
Merlin copied the other angel's as they snapped to attention. They were all Enforcers, trained to keep peace and – when necessary – protect Avalon and other worlds against threats. But Merlin had no clue. The men around him were experienced and world-hardened; Merlin was still learning how to spin in circles without his wings shooting him up like a bottle-rocket.
"You are being sent on one of the most dangerous missions seen in Avalon history. There is little I can say that could prepare you for what you will face, so just remember your training; stay alert, work as a team, and keep your head." Merlin paled, a sickly green colour tinting the natural glow that emanated from every angel in Avalon. If this was the General's idea of a pep-talk he couldn't imagine what a fully blown tongue-lashing from the man would be like.
The Enforcers saluted respectfully by pressing three splayed fingers against their left shoulders and made to march off to their mission.
"Emrys!" Halting in his tracks Merlin threw a quick nod at Lance, reassuring him that he would catch up, before he turned back the General.
"Yes sir?"
"I know this is your first mission kid, and I didn't want to send you down there. But if anyone needs to keep their wits about them it's you Emrys. If you die this mission will fail." So no pressure at all, right? Thought Merlin with a mental roll of his eyes. The General was right though, and Merlin did not take this lightly.
"Understood sir."
"Good lad." With a last friendly pat on the shoulder the General let him march after his fellow Enforcers. A large gaping hole in the middle of the floor was his destination and breathing deeply he plunged down into the abyss, cool air rushing against the feathers of his wings, and a small part of him prayed that his descent would never end.