I don't own Merlin!
Chapter 5 – A Gathering of Old Friends
The city had erupted into pandemonium. Red flashed from every direction as Camelot's knights feigned, blocked and darted, their capes flailing behind them. Red flew as swords slashed, slashed and slashed again. Red blazed as fires consumed houses. Red was everywhere.
Arthur's knights fought valiantly – their fame as the best of the five kingdoms was well deserved. They rose to the occasion brilliantly. Months of preparation were countered out by sheer determination, magic by years of training. But skill, courage and honour, no matter how great, could not fight numbers. They were overwhelmed by numbers. Each man slain was replaced by another, as the attack continued relentlessly, the stream of soldiers entering the city seemingly endless. And, even whilst they battled on against soldiers, spells and fatigue alike, each knight knew in his heart that it was useless.
They were losing.
It was evident in the cacophonous music that rent through the air. The screeching clangs of swords upon swords, the desperate battle cries roared out by determined soldiers, the fearful neighing of well trained horses… And the screams. Most of all, it was evident in the screams.
But all seemed distant within the cold, stone walls of the castle. Like a buzz of chatter in the background – easily ignored, if not for its more sinister notes.
Perhaps, for the black hooded figure striding purposefully through the corridors, battle really was just as routine as idle chit-chatter, for she seemed so oblivious to the bloodshed. There was no fear or uncertainty in her movements – her stride, though brisk, had a certain grace, self-assurance radiated from her posture, and an aura of such intense power exuded from her every pore that servants and courtiers alike were sent scuttling away in her wake. Few were brave enough to stand in her way and those that did did so in vain, for she blasted them away with mere flashes of her eyes, as if they were no more than pesky insects – annoying, but hardly worth her bother.
Morgana carved her path through the castle that had once been both prison and home to her with only one destination in mind – the throne room.
The instant she had felt Mordred's pain, she had known that something had gone wrong. No doubt Emrys has seen fit to intervene again. Anger filled her at the thought. The traitor. How dare he harm the young boy! How dare he! But no matter, this time, she would have her revenge. He could not stop her forever and today, he would pay for trying. Even the mighty Emrys didn't stand a chance against two powerful sorcerers and an immense army. He was just one man after all. A man distracted by his need to protect another. Her dear brother. Her lips curled upwards at the thought. How devastated Merlin would be when she ensured that he failed in his destiny.
She would find Mordred and together, they would kill Arthur. They would kill everyone who had ever been loyal to him.
And they would make Emrys watch.
Arthur had burst out of the throne room intending to find some peace in which to recollect his thoughts. Instead, he had burst right into the middle of a battle.
It was just his luck, his still reeling brain grumbled, as he determinedly pushed aside all the thoughts constantly shoving at his mind and whipped out his sword to begin sparring with the nearest intruder.
Was magic really so intent to rob him of his sanity? It kept pushing him closer to edge, testing the limits of his endurance. Betrayal after betrayal, pain followed by guilt, fear by pain. And now, right after its latest and most terrible attack of all, it felt the need it overwhelm him yet further with this. With this.
From the glance out of the window that he managed to snatch, he noted that the heart of the fray still seemed to be outside the castle, where the majority of enemy troops were being held off by his knights. It was a small relief. At least only the few he was now fighting had managed to breach their defences and actually infiltrate the castle. But he should not have to be battling inside his own castle, he reminded himself. None of them should have been able to get inside. None of his knights should have to be thrown into a war like this, with no preparation, no warning.
They had been taken completely by surprise - no doubt Mordred had managed to ensure that the patrols responsible for alerting them to any dangers somehow just missed the colossal and extremely dangerous army camped right outside their walls. He grunted in indignation at the thought. Were his security measures really that useless? Vaguely, he wondered how he had been able to thwart all those magical attacks… If sorcerers had such power…
A bubble of the same blinding anger from before rose in him again and the soldier before him, struck by a particularly vicious blow, fell to the ground, dead. His body was flung unceremoniously to the side as the king moved on to his next victim without sparing him a second glance.
Arthur's mind was reeling again. How corrupting must such power be to turn an innocent little boy into the man that had caused such bloodshed? How evil must it be to cause such pain? But that wasn't right… The druids used magic and yet they were a peaceful people, weren't they? But wasn't Mordred a druid? Had he been wrong to stop persecuting the druids? It had seemed so right at the time… But hell, if magic was corrupting enough to turn Merlin (his heart clenched at the thought) into- Into what exactly? He was so confused. So, so confused. He didn't know what to think anymore. Everything that had seemed so simple had somehow transformed into a jumbled mess of anything but simplicity – a mess so shambolic that it rivalled even Merlin's bedroom. He had woken up to the exasperatingly jovial voice of his maddening, bumbling idiot of a manservant – the man he had berated countless times for being the very embodiment of simple-mindedness. He had felt annoyed, exactly like he had every day of the past however many years. But now… Now, he would give anything to have the mindless idiot back, for everything to revert back to their previous straight-forward state, to wake up from this whole nightmare.
His sword was merciless as it swung and swiped at the terrified man before him, its wielder tirelessly channelling his feelings into every stroke. The soldier's pleas fell upon unhearing ears and his fear sparked no hint of compassion in the distant-looking blue eyes that guarded such a tornado of emotions. Within seconds, he too had fallen next to his companion.
King Arthur rounded the corner, searching for his next victim, needing desperately to regain that calming sense of purpose that the fighting had temporarily provided. He spotted a black hooded figure heading towards him and hurriedly ducked into an alcove, his battle instincts springing into action as he prepared to launch a surprise attack. The figure was just coming into view. He could see the ripples in her black cloak. He could just make out a mess of raven black hair and beneath the curls, beneath them, a face…
Frozen in the dark alcove, Arthur merely watched as Morgana strode past. Her fluttering cloak had all but disappeared from sight before the realisation of where she was heading hit him.
The throne room.
Where Merlin was.
And without pausing to think, without time to consider his actions, Arthur raced after her. Only one thought was clear to him as he let his habitual feelings of protectiveness pervade his mind.
Merlin could not die.
Because deep in his heart, beneath all his anger, Arthur knew that no matter what happened, no matter how he did, Merlin was still Merlin. The man who would willingly give his life and run face first into all types of danger to protect his friend. The man who had proved this not moments ago. The man who deserved Arthur's protection.
And Arthur would never be able to bear the thought of him dead. Nor would he ever forgive himself if he just stood by and let it happen.
Besides, Merlin had a lot of explaining to do.
And filled with such thoughts, Arthur burst into the throne room.
The sight that met his eyes froze him once more.
But it was not Morgana's victorious smirk, or the steadily expanding lake of blood on the floor, or even the dagger hovering unsupported inches from his manservant's chest that alarmed Arthur.
No, what alarmed Arthur was the look of tired resignation and such absolute despair in his eyes.
Review? Pretty, pretty please? Because this chapter took ages and just somehow wouldn't come out right. I'm still not entirely convinced by Arthur's reactions. And if I'm not convinced, then I don't suppose you are? Hence why I really, really want to know what you think and any suggestions as to how I could improve it would also be very much appreciated!
And thank you so much to ruby890 and jo for their reviews of the last chapter, as well as anyone who has favourited, followed or simply read! You don't know how much it means to me to know that there are people out there who actually want to read my work and leave such lovely comments!
Next chapter: Well, I think you can guess... Morgana isn't exactly going to just ignore Arthur now, is she? And how's Merlin going to react to Arthur's sudden appearance? You'll have to wait to find out... Mwahhaha!
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