Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
"If I have done anything in life worth attention, I feel sure that I inherited the disposition from my mother." —Booker T. Washington
Hunith sat in the soft earth beside her house, weeping with a pure smile gracing her features. There was no way to simply process the information she had read. It was what she had dreamed of hearing from the very moment her son had shown signs of magic.
Her Merlin was free.
She gazed down at the script flowing across the royal's letter and pulled the missive to her heart, holding it as if she was grasping her son in her arms. So precious were these freeing words, these admitted feelings. Arthur—according to Merlin's many letters—rarely said a kind word out front. It would take sentences of banter, or perhaps just a certain glance, that would tell her son how the king cherished him. But this letter, Hunith smiled at the thought, was written directly from Arthur's heart, finding the inspiration from his own memories and deeply hidden feelings of brotherhood.
It made the message all that more important to her; the two people who cared the most for Merlin sharing a written conversation that spanned their love for the young man.
Oh how her heart sang!
Hunith lifted a hand and the corner of her apron to her eyes, drying the wetness that had fallen in her joy. She looked back to her left hand, finding Merlin's handwriting staring up at her—it was just her name on the envelope, but from within, she could almost feel the heart her son had put into his words.
Eager to hear Merlin's reaction, she tore open the small wax seal and unfolded the letter:
Mother,
I hope this letter finds you well. It saddens me that I don't know how you've been doing, and I feel even worse knowing that I haven't seen you in so long. I'm sorry.
It's extremely busy in the castle, and I'm afraid it would be nearly impossible for me to leave right now; but mother, there are things that I must tell you—things that couldn't wait for a visit.
Now don't worry, but if you recall the last message I sent, there has been a battle.
It was a bloody, gruesome, and terrible few days, mother, and I am glad you will never see such a thing. But Arthur, he led the men with such courage! The Once and Future King was on the battlefield at Camlann, there is no doubt. Oh! That was a sight I wish you could've seen. Destiny showed a glimpse of the man Arthur would soon be—and I must say, he was amazing, and everything I knew he would be.
Then the battle.
I was not able to be there at first, but I saw it in my own way (that, in and of itself is a story you must hear from my own lips, not paper). I knew what would happen at Camlann… and I almost didn't make it in time. Well, truth is, I didn't make it in time.
Just as I had been told, Arthur was dealt a mortal blow. He was suffering from a sword forged from Aithusa's own breath. It pains me greatly to know that it was my kin that wounded my brother. But while I feel guilty, and I'm not sure if I will ever be able to forgive myself for what Aithusa and Mordred accomplished, there is nothing I can do now but to move on.
You see, this forgiveness came harder for myself because I could not fix what they had wrought; the only way to save Arthur was to take him to the Isle of Avalon, for only the Sidhe have the magic that could save him.
Again, I couldn't help think about how I fell short—the legendary Emrys! Unable to reverse the effects of his own kin's power… I'm sorry, mother; I know how such talk troubles you.
But here is where I hope you can excuse my anxious heart—I am almost laughing because I can't believe I'm saying this in a letter.
Arthur knows, mother, he really knows. I showed him my magic, and he has come to accept the way I was born!
He accepts me!
Hunith gasped, because although she had read similar words from Arthur's letter, these exclamations were from her son. Her Merlin. It was good that she had read the king's missive first, she decided, because he had not mentioned such a grievous wound, and the dark tales of battle. In her heart, Hunith felt a maternal fondness for the Pendragon, and because of his closeness to Merlin, she couldn't imagine what that experience had been like for either man.
She could imagine, though, Merlin showing the king his beautiful gift—perhaps through magical creatures dancing in flames. He'd always loved to conjure them as a boy. Her heart sang at the acceptance her son had gained.
She knew that her Merlin had wanted nothing more than to share his secret with the man he'd come to see as his brother; time and time again, he would send letters with a distraught sense of loneliness written between the lines.
Merlin had always hated lying to Arthur, but that feeling of unease had grown worse as the two had grown closer. It was a miracle, really, Hunith thought, that after all this, Arthur and Merlin's relationship and trust were still unshakable. But no, she knew that wasn't right. It was Destiny. She had guided the two through their secrets and pulled them out as a smith would pull links from the fire—a new, stronger-bonded pair of brothers emerging.
Hunith smiled happily both at the thought of her son and the king's closeness, and because she knew that that same king would help spread the acceptance he'd given to Merlin, to all the people in his kingdom. They would all soon come to understand her son; for, while he was still the same Merlin that Camelot's citizens saw traipsing behind their king, with or without magic, he would finally be known as the person he had always been in his soul: magic and human intertwined, a kind-hearted servant with the blood of dragon's coursing through his veins.
Hunith's hands shook excitedly at the thought, and while it took a minute for her attention to be brought back to the letter held in her grasp, she soon dragged her gaze across the parchment once more, ready to continue her son's tale:
We journeyed to Avalon, and I used my magic openly, to save him—a few times, even, if you could believe it! Though that's fairly normal, come to think of it...
And yes mother, I know what you're thinking, and I can assure you everything turned out fine. There was a price, as all Life and Death magic demands, but it was one I was definitely willing to pay.
Oh mother! I can hardly believe this is happening!
I've been announced as Court Sorcerer, and there is to be a formal ceremony in a few days where I receive even more titles! After attending to Arthur for a decade of council meetings, I think I'll have fun messing with the nobles once I sit at Arthur's right hand. I bet they'll like that.
To be honest, though, I feel like I'm in a dream, one that I will wake up from to find myself strapped to a pyre. It's such a surreal, nearly unbelievable feeling, watching all my dreams come true.
I wish you could be here beside me, mother, and I guess it's this wish that will get me to ask you something.
But first, let me start at the beginning.
You see, Arthur has been in secret negotiations with the king of Essetir, though I didn't know until only a few days ago.
He called it a "surprise"—ha! That prat can hardly ever surprise anyone; I find it hard to believe that word is even in his vocabulary!
Anyway, he finally told me, because what he has been doing involves me—to an extent.
He negotiated for assimilating some nearby territory close to the Camelot border. I know you don't like when I get into the political details, so I'll skip most of what Arthur told me in his aloof king voice, and just get to the point: he's acquired Ealdor, mother. You are now living under the reign of the King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon.
I'm sure you're shocked to read this, just as I was to hear it—trust me, I didn't believe the prat at first, thinking it was some joke he was trying to pull—but it's true. He said he had wanted to acquire Ealdor for quite some time, actually. I think he wanted to find a way to repay the village, after we took shelter there when Morgana attacked the citadel... and now he has.
Of course, the more political matters of taxes and such will be negotiated in a few weeks, but as of now, you live in the same kingdom that I do.
What a week!
And so, mother, now that Ealdor will be better taken care of... well, I want you to come here, to Camelot… and by come, I mean move. Permanently.
I've already talked to Arthur, and he agrees wholeheartedly; there is plenty of room in the castle for you, and I think there are chambers next to my future tower that are empty.
I'll have to look into that, though.
Now, I know what you'd say if I had asked you face-to-face. I know you've only ever lived in Ealdor, and that such a large place as Camelot looks rather daunting. I know that if you left, you'd be leaving your friends in the village, and I know how hard that will be for you. But please consider my request.
Ealdor will be safe under Arthur's rule, and I'm sure Mari and John can look after the house… oh, I would love being able to talk with you again. You wouldn't be lonely here, either; my friends all think of you as family… so please, consider it.
Oh Mother, there is just so much to tell you, but it is impossible to put it all into words! Everything is happening so fast, and it's amazing at how much of mine and Arthur's Destiny is already taking shape.
Albion.
It's a golden word at the tip of my tongue; Arthur and I have already spent hours discussing such a future. Won't it be great, to see magic intertwined so tightly into the non-magical world that the two blend as one? It will be beautiful, peaceful—breathtaking!
Albion is coming, that's for sure. It may be years till that dream is fully realized, I know, but in the last week alone, Arthur and I have made so many changes that I can't help but feel that Destiny is but a few months away.
Camelot is turning into a new kingdom right at our very fingertips, "The Golden Age," as Arthur has jokingly taken to calling the present. I think he just can't come up with anything more magically descriptive than the color my eyes turn—as I've said in past letters, he's hardly the best English scholar (you should try reading one of the rough drafts of his speeches!)—that prat.
Anyway, I know that I have told you an awful lot already, and I'm sorry to make your head spin, but it's impossible for me to slow down! I'm at half a mind to think that Gaius will be slipping me a sleeping draught, just to keep me from chattering on!
It's just… all my dreams are coming true—all the things we've ever dreamed, Mother… and while I wish you were beside me to share in my joy, I know that Ealdor is your home, and it's not a quick journey to Camelot. Just, keep in mind that there is always an empty room here for you, if you decide to visit… or stay… please, think about it.
But for now, know that I am safe, well, and living in a beautiful dream.
I love you mother.
Your son,
Merlin
P.S. Also, with my new title as Lord, you're technically a Lady. Imagine that!
Hunith laughed at Merlin's last-minute addition. She continued staring at parchment well after she had finished reading, sometimes her gaze scanning key paragraphs over again, just to assure herself the letter was reality, and not some strange dream her worried and tired mind had fabricated. A deep, relieved sigh pulled itself from her throat, and a wide grin spread itself across her still-dazed features. She knew, even as she read the document, that this letter changed everything—the words scrawled across its surface holding an altered future, not only for Merlin and his Once and Future King, but also for herself, and the people of the Pendragon kingdom. This would truly bring about, as her amazed son had somewhat jokingly said, the Golden Age: Albion.
Hunith placed both letters to her chest, and turned so that her gaze landed on the only place she had ever called home. Her stomach fluttered and dropped at the thought of moving away from the quiet village and into the heart of a city. She wasn't sure she could do it—leave friends, life, and home behind… but Merlin was in Camelot, and therefore her heart was there too. She hadn't realized this was the case until her son had requested her move to the castle. Now that he'd said it, Hunith knew it was where she needed to be. Everything they had ever dreamed about—talked about, in order to stave off the dark thoughts of Merlin's self-doubts—was coming true. Her son needed her, and that was all she needed to push herself into action.
Hunith stood, wiping the dirt from her apron, and, as the sun fell beneath the trees, she made for her house.
She had things to pack.
AN:
There you have it! What'd you think? Also, a big thank you to all of you who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story.
Until next time,
Mirror