Prompt by ErinNovelist: Merlin reveals his magic during the Battle of Camlann before Mordred stabs Arthur.
Merlin felt the light soak into his pores, drawing out hidden strength he had never even suspected of being there. So much power- he felt he could do anything.
Arthur...
He had to get to his side as soon as possible. He'd never had the courage to try it before, but maybe now...
Closing his eyes and concentrating fiercely, Merlin mentally grabbed hold of the subconscious link between himself and his master, praying he wouldn't wind up halfway across the world.
The light of the crystals had just begun to fade from his sight when he realized popping into existence right in front of his friend (and two armies, most likely) probably wasn't the best of ideas- and that was how he wound up on a cliff overlooking the battle with the tail of his jacket missing.
He spared the shortened garment no consideration, staring into the chaos below where a tide of Camelot red broke against the dull colors of the Saxon's mismatched armor.
Arthur was near the front line, Leon by his side as they were surrounded by enemy soldiers.
Merlin raised his new staff to call lightning from the sky, then hesitated for a moment. If he acted now, anyone would be able to see who it was performing the magic. Then Arthur stumbled, grasping his arm where a sword had drawn a red line despite his mail.
Thunder rent the air as the bolt streaked down, driving back the opposition and blinding Camelot's knights for a moment- long enough for Merlin to move out of sight, making his way to the king's side.
"Emrys!" Morgana's screech cut through the sounds of battle, pulling Merlin's gaze to her position behind the Saxons.
Without a word he sent a targeted blast and watched her tumble to the rocks, a few small boulders half-burying her prone form. Whether unconscious or dead he neither knew nor cared at the moment; Mordred was the one he needed to defeat.
He spotted Arthur just ahead, kicking his last opponent from the end of his blade and surveying the empty area around himself. Merlin was just about to call him when Mordred appeared from behind a cliff wall, grim determination on his face.
The king must have spotted the ex-druid at the same time as he now stood frozen, neither having noticed Merlin's presence.
This was not good. Merlin could see Arthur wouldn't be able to fight Mordred as if he were any other enemy.
With eyes blazing gold, the warlock slowed time. He charged toward the men, grabbing a discarded sword and interposing himself between the two, barely managing to get his borrowed weapon up in time to ward off Mordred's strike.
"Emrys," the young warrior sneered, just as Arthur shouted "Merlin!"
"It doesn't have to be like this, Mordred. Arthur did his best to spare her. He-"
"Enough!"
The pressure increased and Merlin focused all his strength on keeping up his guard, trying to think of a way to make the young man see reason. This small distraction prevented him from seeing that his weapon was failing, the dragon-forged blade cutting through his inferior one to bite deeply into his shoulder.
Arthur's angry shout from behind was the only thing that prevented his magic-infused scream of pain from bursting out and killing everyone nearby. Instead he gasped and raised a hand to force Mordred back, pausing in surprise when a gold-etched blade flashed at his side and punched a hole in the traitor's chest.
The servant was still gaping when his master appeared in front of him, pressing a wad of red fabric to the wound.
"Augh! That hurts!" He exclaimed, more out of surprise than anything. Shock and battle fever had done their fair share in numbing the pain.
"Shut up, stop being such a girl," the king retorted absently, all his attention on binding the heavily-bleeding cut.
"Whoa..." Merlin swayed and Arthur caught his elbow, lowering him to the ground where he blinked groggily.
Tying off the end of the makeshift bandage, Arthur grabbed Merlin's opposite hand and pressed it against the fabric, eliciting a wince.
"Keep pressure on that."
The physician's apprentice snorted. "So you're the expert now?" He was grinning now, lightheaded from the rapid blood loss.
"Merlin."
The serious tone had a slight sobering effect and Merlin gazed back at Arthur as steadily as he could.
"What was that?"
Arthur knew; he could see it clearly by the king's expression- though he could divine little else.
Does he want me to lie?
That wasn't going to happen, not anymore.
"You know what it was, Sire." Merlin didn't even realize he'd let his hand drop from his injury until Arthur's was there instead, pressing firmly as his other arm supported the servant's drooping torso. "I was born with it, you know."
His voice was soft now, tone conversational- as if they were talking about nothing more significant than the weather.
"Hey, stay with me, idiot. How am I supposed to punish you if you go and die first?"
Well that's something to live for...
Arthur was lightly slapping his cheek- and when had he rested his forehead against the king's shoulder?
"'ll be fine," Merlin assured, his slurred voice doing nothing to inspire confidence in his companion.
He wasn't lying, though. It was just taking his magic longer to seal the wound than normal- probably because of the dragon blade- but he should be close to full health after a night's rest.
Chain mail shifted under his cheek as Arthur sighed.
"Fine. I guess it would be too much to expect you to obey me now when you never have before."
Something warm and heavy settled across his back, squeezing gently. Was Arthur hugging him? And when had he closed his eyes?
"Rest, Merlin. I have a lot of questions for you when you wake up."
And with that, Merlin released his tenuous grip on wakefulness, safe in the arms of his best friend.