Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin
Caged
Chapter 9
"When one door of happiness closes, another one opens, but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which had been opened for us."
-Helen Keller-
Merlin slept so often, he had a hard time keeping track of the days. Without his routine, and with his ailing body still healing, time lost all meaning. He woke up late one morning and realized he couldn't remember what day it was, or exactly how long he had been at the lake. One thing he did remember, and often, was Arthur's visit to Avalon's boundaries. He couldn't forget it even if he wanted to, because there had been regular searches since then. But there was one glaring difference—Arthur had not joined any since the first. Or if he had, he'd not said a word while there. That wasn't like Arthur, so Merlin assumed the King had stayed in his castle. Merlin didn't know whether he should feel worried or relieved that Arthur chose to remain in Camelot for the remaining searches for him.
Even though he knew they couldn't see or hear him, Merlin took to hiding in a rough shelter he had conjured and stifling his sneezes and coughs whenever he heard the telltale sounds of another patrol searching for him. Merlin still wasn't sure what to think about all this. He'd gone missing for brief periods before, and Arthur had never bothered himself about it before. But this time he'd only been gone one night, and now Arthur was tearing up the forest looking for him. That wasn't like Arthur, either, and Merlin couldn't help feeling jumpy and stressed every time he heard a new patrol rifling through the bushes just beyond the lake. Merlin wondered what Arthur had in store for him if Merlin did show his face. For days, Merlin switched from being lethargic and drowsy to tense and anxious as he waited for the overly loud search patrols to move on.
Why? Why was Arthur so bent on finding him? Merlin was still suspicious that Arthur had found something out, something Merlin had done, and that he was only determined on finding Merlin in order to punish him. But part of Merlin wanted to believe it was because Arthur cared about him—Arthur had finally admitted and called Merlin his friend the day of his coronation. A loyal friend even.
Yet, that memory didn't hold much warmth for Merlin anymore. If Arthur knew, if Arthur even suspected who Merlin really was and what he'd done, he would never have called Merlin a friend. And that hurt to contemplate. Even if Arthur ever did see Merlin for who he was, he wouldn't see past the stigma of his magic, wouldn't see the good he had done. Arthur would see only evil and another vile traitor where there had once been a friend.
Merlin dreamed vividly that night—a nightmare, though he wouldn't have called it that a few weeks ago.
He dreamed of Albion.
He and Arthur were standing on the battlements, watching the sunrise. They looked slightly older—Arthur wore a more intricate crown than the one he'd been crowned with, and Merlin's attire was fine and expensive. That said, the two looked rather rumpled, food stains on their clothes and both sporting tired faces, as if they'd stayed up all night at a banquet. Arthur turned to Merlin, a warm smile on his face. "Do it again."
"Honestly, Arthur, you're like a child, asking me to do things over and over again."
The King gave Merlin a little shove at the insult, but he still smiled. "What if I said please?"
"And what would the other kingdoms think of the High King, begging for magical treats from his warlock?" Merlin smirked, but raised his hand anyway. He did not speak a spell aloud, but his eyes flashed golden. Flames from the nearby torches pulled away and formed into moving images of creatures—falcons, dragons, bears, unicorns, griffins, and wolves. The images swerved and danced around each other, though as the sun began to peak over the edge of the sky, they became harder to see. As the sun rose fully, the images began to fade and the flames returned to the empty torches. The non-magical creatures faded last.
Arthur, a twinkle in his eye, said, "Your last one was better." The King looked over in confusion when Merlin didn't respond to the taunt. His confusion turned to concern when he saw the warlock's bewildered face and watery eyes. "Merlin? What's wrong?"
Merlin then turned to his King, tears now streaming freely down his cheeks, but they proved to be tears of joy as a genuine grin had spread across his face. "Nothing, Arthur. Absolutely nothing."
Merlin woke to another dreary, overcast day. His magic had completely healed days ago, but his body was still catching up. But this particular morning, his head was clear, his aches were gone, and only his coughs and sneezing stubbornly remained. Despite his improved health, Merlin felt empty. And thinking on his recent dream, the emptiness only increased. It was somehow worse than his usual nightmares—the ones where Arthur arrested him, beheaded him, hung him, burned him alive. This new dream mocked his pain, showed him what he longed for but would never have—a world where Arthur not only accepted, but even asked for Merlin's magic, with a smile on his face. It was so strange, so bizarre, so wonderful.
The dream only served to cement the wretched feeling that had taken up residence in his chest since Arthur's coronation. In that moment, as he sat gazing at the lake, contemplating his nightmare, Merlin felt betrayed. He had been betrayed by destiny. Merlin had been promised a place in the world and a purpose—worthy king to protect, who would accept and bring magic back to the realm. And Merlin had thrown himself into his duty, done everything he'd been asked to do.
Well, not everything. Memories of Kilgharrah's voice raged in his mind, telling him to kill Mordred, to kill Morgana, to let Uther die. He had always hated how most of the dragon's counsel seemed to involve killing someone. He could only imagine how angry the dragon would be when he found out about Merlin's recent attempt to heal Uther, and how the end result had made Albion a delusion, nothing more than a passing daydream.
But regardless, Merlin had sacrificed all he had to bring destiny about. And it all had been thrown back in his face. The feeling of the wasted days, the feeling of his wasted life, the tragedy of all the other lives sacrificed in the name of destiny made Merlin want to weep again. Or throw up.
Merlin began to doubt it was destiny at all. If it had been destiny for Arthur and him to unite the kingdoms, and bring magic back, then why had it all gone so wrong? At every turn, something happened to set Arthur's heart against magic. Was it all a lie? Was it all a hoax, drivel fed to him by a dragon desperate to escape his chains?
If Gaius were here he would have said, no. It is not a lie. Arthur needs you. You can still salvage destiny. Things are not yet set in stone.
But Gaius wasn't here. Merlin was alone. The dream was fading, and Merlin felt himself waking up to cold reality. Camelot would be forever closed to him and his kind. And with sorrow in his heart, Merlin knew he could never go back. He would not live his life suffocating in the shadows any longer.
But then what? If he couldn't go to Camelot, then where? He couldn't stay at the lake forever. It was too close to Camelot, and he'd already almost cleaned out what little food there was to be found near its shores. And he couldn't go back to Ealdor. He still would not be free to use his magic in his home village, so it remained just as much a cage as Camelot was. And his mother, he was sure, would be very disappointed in him. And a part of Merlin knew that she might have power to persuade him to return to Arthur's side, back into the life he was so desperately trying to escape.
Merlin stood up, and chucked a stone into the lake. He picked up a few more, and threw them as hard as he could, seeing how far across they would go. Merlin felt the suppressed anger inside him rise again, and he threw bigger and bigger stones, enjoying watching as the explosive splashes grew in size.
Stupid dragon. He told me all that destiny jargon back before I was a dragonlord. Could he have lied to me? And the druids, what if they…
The druids.
Merlin dropped the large rock in his hand, and felt something flutter in his chest. Yes. He could go to the druids; they would welcome him with open arms. He would be able to use magic freely with them, maybe even find some proper teachers. Away from Camelot, away from anyone who rejected magic, Merlin would have time to study, to improve his skills, truly stretch his limits without fear. And he could protect them. Even though he could not bring magic back to Camelot, he could at least ensure magic's survival and the safety of its people. And where better to protect people like him than in their midst?
And if Merlin found he couldn't or didn't want to stay with the druids, there had to be other places where magic was accepted and taught rather than rejected and feared. If not here on the isles, then maybe somewhere on the Continent, or in the East.
Though Merlin felt his heart clench at the thought of leaving everyone and everything he knew, another part of him grew lighter at the thought of finding a place where he could truly be free. A place where he wouldn't have to hold back anymore, where he wouldn't have to lie anymore, away from all the hate and sorrow. He wasn't sure such a place existed, but if it did, Merlin wanted to find it. He had to find it.
For the first time since his frenzied escape into the forest, Merlin felt something stirring in the air, stirring in his soul. Just because things had gone wrong didn't mean Merlin had to be miserable for the rest of his life. He would, no doubt, always carry with him the guilt of all that had transpired, but he was still free to live his life the way he chose—in the light, not in obscurity. In the open air, not in a cage. Merlin felt the hope flutter again in his heart, and a small smile pulled on his lips.
Arthur could manage without him. It would be hard on him, but not impossible. He wasn't alone—he had the Knights of the Round Table, he had Gwen, he had Gaius. He would not be left friendless. Arthur already had experience running things as regent, and the people loved him. He would manage. But then a niggling little thought pushed into Merlin's mind.
What about Agravaine?
And thinking of Agravaine led to the one person who had ruined everything, who could still ruin his new-found plans for his personal freedom and peace.
Morgana.
Rage mixed with guilt swirled in Merlin breast, and it triggered a series of wet coughs. The bitter anger did not subside when his coughing did. In his heart, he still felt partly responsible for Morgana's descent into darkness, but it had ultimately been her choice. She was the one responsible for hardening Arthur's heart against all magic, and she would only continue to threaten all Merlin held dear as long as her eyes were set on Camelot's throne. He couldn't leave and let Morgana have free reign in his absence, unchecked in her evil. He couldn't leave Arthur and Camelot at her mercy. He couldn't leave.
But the hope he had snatched onto was strong, and Merlin quickly brushed away his doubts. If Morgana was somehow dealt with, Merlin would be free to leave Arthur in the safe hands of his knights. If he drove Morgana away, or managed to keep her away from Camelot, Merlin could leave with an, almost, clear conscience.
A dark thought struck him, and Merlin worried that Morgana would only stop being a problem when she was dead. Merlin could still remember the kind woman she had been, and the thought of killing her was still as repugnant as it had been every time he'd had the opportunity. But Morgana was his mess to clean up, and he would not leave until his friends were safe from her malevolence. The guilt he was already carrying was enough of a burden—if anything else happened because he was not there to stop it… Merlin knew he could not leave them completely unprotected.
So, Merlin found he had to plan a little detour on his journey to freedom. He would track Morgana down first, find out what she was up do, and do all he could to stop her. Merlin sneezed violently, but was smiling slightly as he wiped his nose with his sleeve.
After that, then he would be free.
A/N: Again, as always, thank you all so much for your feedback and support. I really do appreciate anyone who takes the time to share their thoughts and opinions on my work. I will never say no to polite, constructive criticism. (And even if it's not polite, I'm still open to reading and considering suggestions for improvement in my writing and story construction.) So thanks everyone!
There was a mention made in a review about Merlin's ability to get sick, and I thought, "Hey, something else I can ramble on and on about!"
I know it is often implied that Merlin's magic protects him from all illness, but I don't think this is necessarily true. In Season 5, in the episode "Death Song of Uther Pendragon," Arthur complains about Merlin's sneezing scaring all the hunting game away, and Merlin responds by saying he might be coming down with a cold. Also in Season 5, in "The Drawing of the Dark," Merlin actually is suffering from a cold at the very beginning of the episode. So according to canon, Merlin can get sick with normal illnesses. It just doesn't happen very often. With exposure to the elements, and all the stress, disappointment, guilt, and overexertion I had Merlin go through in this story, I imagined it would have been hard for him not to get sick. At the same time, I also believe that Merlin's magic does protect him from serious illnesses, and helps him heal quicker than the average person.
Next chapter will be sort of a setting-up-chapter for the figurative storm I mentioned in the author's notes of last chapter. I'm actually kind of nervous about it, but then I'm nervous about every chapter I post, so that's nothing new. I could also tell you that writer's block has struck again, but I get writer's block everyday (no joke). But I've learned that you just have to keep writing, even when you have no idea what to write about, and something good will pop out of your head. So, here's hoping that something good will pop out for Chapter 10.
Posted: 6/12/17
