AN: I'm REALLY sorry it's taken me so long to update this story. I think that part of what drives me to write is new episodes, and when the hiatus came I lost my mojo. But new episodes are on (YES!) and I'm eager to finish this. Expect the next chapter within a week, and the epilogue not long after that. Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, everyone who's decided to stick with me, and anyone who's starting this story for the first time. You guys are the best. :)
Everything Is Never As It Seems
~~Chapter Three: Nobody's Fault But Mine~~
Lightning struck overhead, and in the brief flash of light Merlin could almost make out the path in front of him through the driving rain. He shivered as the wind picked up, blowing water in his face, obscuring his vision and practically drowning him. Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and Merlin jumped as thunder rumbled right above him. He scrubbed his hand across his face and continued walking.
Merlin wondered, not for the first time that night, if he'd made a mistake leaving Camelot so hastily. He could easily have waited until morning. After all, Arthur hadn't actually said he had to leave that night. But he hadn't wanted to draw anything out. The longer he stopped to think about what had happened, the worse he felt. Merlin couldn't help it, but he felt ashamed. He knew full well that all he needed was a few well spoken words and he could keep himself warm and dry as he traveled. But he didn't want to. Merlin didn't want to use magic ever again. He'd learned to tolerate his magic, to use it for good, but he'd never really been truly comfortable with using it. He'd never been comfortable keeping it from people, especially Arthur. When Arthur had told him to get out, Merlin had made the decision to leave more than Camelot behind him. And after all, without Arthur's life to protect, without his destiny, Merlin didn't really have a use for magic anymore.
He pulled his traveling cloak tighter to him, trying to keep out the rain and failing miserably. Merlin had hoped to be closer to Ealdor by now, but the rain, which had started up as soon as he reached the woods, had made it impossible for him to keep a torch or anything lit long enough to guide him in the dark. He knew he'd have to stop soon; he couldn't keep going for long in the cold and the dark.
Finally, a particularly long flash of lightning illuminated a clearing ahead of him, and Merlin recognized it as one that he, Gwen, and Morgana had come through on their way to save Ealdor from Kanen and his men. As he stepped into the clearing, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds for just a second, but it was enough for Merlin to be able to make out a small cave nestled on the left hand side of the clearing, just where he remembered it being.
He couldn't believe his luck. He picked up the pace as he headed toward the cave, eager to find shelter from the bitter wind and biting rain.
When he reached the middle of the clearing, he stopped. Someone, or something, was watching him from the trees. He couldn't see it, but he could feel a presence. And not just any presence: Merlin felt his heart stop and his blood run cold at the feeling of magic stirring on the other side of the trees.
Before he could react, a giant, dark form slammed into him, knocking him flat onto his back. He heard a low growl, felt hot breath on his face. A wolf. But it wasn't just any wolf. It was imbued with magic. Whether it was possessed or created by magic, Merlin didn't have time to wonder. He only had time to scream in pain as the wolf's giant teeth tore into his shoulder.
Merlin felt magic explode out of him against his will, and the creature flew across the clearing and slammed into a tree. Merlin stumbled to his feet, cradling his hurt shoulder to his chest. Blood was poring copiously from the wound, and he could feel himself losing energy fast. The wolf got to its feet and stared him down, and Merlin knew he had to think fast. But instead, he froze up. He'd told himself he wasn't going to use magic anymore. He couldn't. He'd been weak before, allowing his magic to take control of him, acting on instinct. But he had to be stronger than that. He had control over himself. He was the one who decided when and where he used his magic. And he had decided he wasn't going to use it anymore. He wasn't going to let it take control of him. He wasn't going to let Arthur down. He had to find another way to fight this creature.
Unfortunately, his moment of hesitation was all that the wolf needed to strike again. Merlin caught a flash of gold in the wolf's eyes before it was on top of him. He felt the monster tear into him, and time slowed down. The pain was intolerable. His vision blurred at the edges, and as the world dimmed around him, Merlin could feel himself dying.
Visions flashed before his eyes, and it was in what he felt sure was his last moment that he remembered the knife Arthur had given him. Ever since Merlin had started his duties as Arthur's manservant, he had been in training with him. Needless to say, he sucked pretty royally with a sword. During one of their more emotional training sessions, Merlin had nearly driven a sword into his own foot, and he'd thrown it aside angrily, threatening to never pick up a sword again. It was then that Arthur had shown one of his earliest and rarest moments of kindness. It was one of the first times Arthur had really opened up to him.
"Believe it or not, Merlin, I wasn't always the strong, handsome, extraordinarily talented fighter that you see before you."
Merlin rolled his eyes and was going to laugh before the look on Arthur's face caused him to pause. He didn't look angry. He actually looked…sad?
"When I first started training, I was pathetic. I could barely hold a sword, much less figure out how to use it without injuring myself. I was frustrated, like you are. What kind of prince doesn't know how to handle a weapon? But my father told me that what I needed to do was start out small. So he gave me this."
Arthur opened his wardrobe and he pulled a small box from the top shelf. It was dusty, but under all the dust Merlin could see that it was worth more money than he was likely to see in his lifetime. Arthur opened the lid, and inside was a small dagger and leather sheath. Arthur took it out, stabbing the air with it a few times aimlessly, lost in thought.
"He told me to start practicing with this, and that with time I'd be able to handle larger weapons. This was the first blade I ever practiced with. I think that if it helped me, it might be able to help you." Arthur put the dagger in its fine sheath and held it out to Merlin.
Merlin was floored. He'd never received something so nice, much less something that clearly meant so much to someone else. And from Arthur of all people. He hesitated at first, afraid to take it.
"It's a gift, Merlin. Show some appreciation," Arthur said, and Merlin was surprised to find that, despite the annoyed tone, Arthur was smiling at him almost fondly, which was all Merlin needed.
"Thank you, sire," he said, taking the dagger from Arthur and bowing.
"Don't mention it," Arthur replied, and he slapped Merlin on the back hard, knocking him to the floor and completely ruining the moment. "Now let me show you how to use that thing."
Ever since that day, Merlin had kept the dagger on his person at all times. He usually kept it hidden. For some reason, he'd never really wanted Arthur to know he still clung to it; he didn't want Arthur to know how much it meant to him. He was still crap with a sword, but the dagger had helped him considerably at first, and beyond that the gift simply meant a good deal to Merlin. It was a symbol of their friendship…or at least the friendship they used to have.
Merlin could feel the comforting weight of the dagger in his cloak pocket. As the wolf sat up to deliver what he knew would be the killing blow, Merlin gathered the last bit of strength he had and, fighting the pain in his arm, he reached into his pocket, pulled out the knife, and stabbed it hard into the side of the wolf's head.
The creature let out a low, quiet whine. Merlin watched the golden glow leave the monster's eyes, and he saw a brief flash of blue before the wolf collapsed dead on top of him.
Merlin lay panting on the ground, soaked through, drenched and drowning in mud, water, and his own blood. He had no idea how long he lay there. Time seemed to slow down around him. But as he felt himself passing out, he knew he should try to at least get out of the rain.
He pushed the dead wolf off of him. Slowly, agonizingly, he crawled through the mud in the direction of the cave. He moaned in pain as his body, torn to shreds by the wolf's teeth and claws, cried out in protest.
By the time he makes it to the cave, he can no longer see. He only knows he is inside because he no longer feels the rain pounding relentlessly on his body. Actually, he no longer feels much of anything. He shivers from the cold. He feels himself losing consciousness. He has just enough strength left to whisper Arthur's name, and the last thing he thinks before darkness claims him is I wish I had said goodbye.
A flash of light…thunder…pounding rain. So dark. And the cold…biting, piercing cold.
Another flash of light, and this time a cave. She starts toward it.
A low growl. Bright, glowing, golden eyes.
Pain. Mind numbing pain. Blood pours from her body. Something shoots out of her, and the creature flies away from her, but before she can run it's back on top of her, tearing into her body. She doesn't know where she finds the strength, but she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a knife. The creature howls and dies, crushing her under its dead weight.
Blood everywhere. Pouring out. Too much, too fast. She's losing strength, can't feel anything but pain as she drags herself into the cave and passes out.
She feels herself fading, when suddenly she is torn away from the cave floor. But in a last flash of light, she is able to make out the figure huddled and dying on the cold hard ground.
Merlin.
It's not me, it's Merlin. Merlin…
Merlin!
"NO!"
Morgana screamed as she bolted upright in bed, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat. Her eyes scanned the room. She was safe in bed. Outside the wind howled, thunder cracked, and trees groaned under the weight of what seemed like the sky falling to Earth but was really just rain.
She lay in bed panting, the awful nightmare replaying itself in her head. Only she knew it wasn't just a nightmare. This didn't feel like her typical bad dream. Deep down inside she knew that this was real.
Merlin was in trouble.
She didn't allow herself time to feel terrified about the fact that, once again, she was seeing things she shouldn't be able to see. She was terrified, all right, but only about one thing.
Merlin.
CRASH!
Arthur woke to a thunderous racket outside his window. It sounded like a massive tree had been uprooted and crashed to the ground. And just when he had finally fallen asleep, too.
Arthur sat up, rubbing at his eyes as he got out of bed and headed toward the window, looking outside. Tree branches and other debris littered the floor of the courtyard below him. The world outside was falling apart, just like his own life was crumbling around him.
Arthur shook his head as he shuffled back to bed, crawling under the covers. He doubted he'd be able to fall asleep again, but staring out the window was making him nervous. He closed his eyes and sighed.
BANG!
Arthur shot up in bed, stifling what would have been a decidedly unmanly scream as his door slammed open. Instinct told him to get out of bed and find a sword, but before he had a chance to he heard Morgana calling out to him.
"Arthur!"
Arthur got out of bed and met her halfway across his bedroom. She crashed into his arms, shivering and sweaty, shaking like a leaf.
"Morgana, what's wrong?" Arthur asked with concern.
"It's Merlin!"
Arthur felt his heart fall into his stomach.
"What are you-?"
"Merlin's in danger, Arthur. Right now. He's dying. Somewhere…in the forest…"
She was hyperventilating, trying to choke the words out through her panic.
"Where?" Arthur asked, trying to stem his own rising sense of panic. He wondered at the fact that he wasn't even questioning how she could possibly know this.
"He was on his way home, to Ealdor. He's…he's in a cave. Somewhere between here and there. I don't know exactly. Arthur, you have to help him! He doesn't have much time! Arthur-"
She had barely finished speaking before Arthur was throwing on his clothes. Strangely enough, he knew the cave she was talking about. He remembered passing a cave that night he had followed Merlin, Morgana, and Gwen on their way to Ealdor.
"Did you have another nightmare?" Arthur asked, fumbling with his pants.
"Yes. I saw the whole thing. For I second I was…he was attacked by a wolf. But it wasn't just a wolf. It was…it was possessed or something. It attacked him, and he fought it off, but it wounded him. He's dying. He's not…he's not going to…"
Arthur could tell she was fighting back tears, and he wanted to comfort her. He didn't know much about Morgana's dreams. All he knew was that the last time she had come to him like this she had told him he was in danger, and then he had almost died. He'd been having misgivings about sending Merlin away all night, and now it sounded like his bad feelings had not been unwarranted.
He threw on the last of his clothes and rushed to her side.
"He's not going to die, Morgana. I'm not going to let him. I promise." Arthur was surprised to find that while his voice was shaking, he felt a strong sense of conviction. He was not going to let Merlin die. He was going to save him.
He had to.
He kissed Morgana quickly on the forehead and hurried out of the room, heading toward the stables.
It was his fault Merlin was in danger, and Arthur was going to do his damndest to bring him back.
Arthur rode quickly through the forest, ignoring the freezing wind, the crashing thunder and the falling trees. Someone somewhere must have been looking out for him, because the rain that had been pouring all night had finally abated, and though the wind was blowing too fiercely for him to keep a torch lit, the moon and stars were high overhead, and they afforded him enough light to see his way through the trees. He followed a path that he remembered surprisingly well considering he had only traveled it twice. When he considered it later, Arthur would admit to himself that it felt as if he was being led to Merlin by a strange force, as though Merlin had been silently calling out to him, leading him. But at the moment, he had only one thing on his mind.
Getting to Merlin.
On time.
Before he…
No, he wasn't going to let himself consider that option. It just wasn't going to happen. Arthur would get to him on time.
He had to.
After what seemed like forever, Arthur saw the trees thinning ahead of him, and he found himself in the clearing where he knew the cave to be. He jumped off his horse and ran toward it, his heart pounding in his chest.
He practically fell over Merlin before he actually saw him. Arthur crashed to the ground, catching himself before he could land on top of him. Gently, he turned Merlin onto his back, and he felt warm, wet liquid ooze onto his hands.
Lightning flashed suddenly overhead, and bile rose in Arthur's throat as he got a good look at Merlin: unconscious, pale…and drenched in blood. He gagged at the sight, but quickly regained composure. He had to get Merlin back to Camelot. Now.
Arthur left Merlin and hurried back to his horse, grabbing his bag. He ran back to the cave and lit a torch, wasting precious time because his hands were shaking so much from a mixture of exhaustion, cold, and nerves. Finally, the torch was lit, and Arthur found some bandages and proceeded to wrap Merlin's wounds. He didn't do the best job ever, but Arthur just needed to stem the blood loss long enough to get Merlin back to Camelot, where Gaius could treat him better.
When he was done, Arthur gently lifted Merlin off the ground and carried him outside as quickly as he could. He tossed Merlin's legs over the horse and laid him facedown gently against the horse's mane. Arthur swung his legs up and pulled Merlin into a sitting position before leaning him back against his chest. Cradling Merlin close to him in a strong grip, Arthur started for home. He heard Merlin moan softly, the motion of the horse's gallop jarring him, and Arthur felt a small glimmer of hope. Merlin was unconscious, but he was still alive. Arthur was going to save him.
He had to.
"It's all right, Merlin. I've got you."
As Arthur headed back to Camelot, holding Merlin close to him and refusing to think about the possibility of not getting there in time, one thought replayed itself over and over in Arthur's head, no matter how much he tried to stop it.
This is all my fault.
tbc…
