(So, here's the end of Episode Two! I've got future installments outlined, but not fleshed out. It might be a while before I post again. The school year is ramping up, and the firewall where I teach blocks fanfiction. Go figure :/ Anyway, you guys are the best :D Stay awesome.)
Elyan tried to keep his breathing even and quiet as they hid in yet another alcove. It wasn't easy. Even with Oswin somewhat conscious and Erec sharing some of his weight, the physical toll was wearing on the knight. Having hardly slept the night before, the rush of battle had kept him going thus far. Now, his vision was blurring and his hands were shaking. He was sure that he would be starving if there was room in his stomach for anything but dread. Still, meeting Erec's determined gaze, he found the strength to push on as they ducked into the hall once more.
They kept to the shadows, moving in rushes and then freezing to avoid being seen. Elyan would never look at the castle tabby cat the same way again. He understood too well the feelings of their prey.
"Just a bit further, lads," Erec encouraged. "Come on."
They turned down the final hallway.
It was caved in.
Elyan bowed his head in despair. He felt a sob rake through Oswin's fading form.
"It's fine," Erec said. "We'll just double back one hallway and find our way from there. This wa-"
The air exploded.
Erec was gone.
Ignoring the red haze around them, Elyan gathered the screaming Oswin and sprinted up the hall. Explosions echoed around them. Elyan ignored them, pumping his leaden legs around a corner and toward the exit. He blinked, blaming the dust laden air for the tears streaming down his face, pushing aside their true source. He blocked out all feeling, sound, everything, as his vision tunneled on the door ahead.
Almost there. The words rang in his head his each stride. Almost there, almost there, almost there...
Finally, he plowed through the door, leaning against the wall just outside as he got his bearings. It was dark. The sun glowered sullenly on the horizon. The small stream that lead under the castle wall and through the drainage gate was fifty yards to his right. He started forward, staying close to the wall, but quickly came to a halt as he watched someone flop out of the stream.
"Gwai-"
His cry was cut off by a blast that shot water from the stream ten feet in the air and sent Gwaine tumbling. The knight quickly made his way to the relative safety of the castle wall and ran toward Elyan.
"Are you alright?" Gwaine asked, taking in Elyan's sweating, weary frame.
"Oswin's hurt," Elyan answer between breaths.
"Briggs said Erec was with you too," Gwaine said, looking around expectantly.
"He was," Elyan bit out raggedly.
Gwaine swallowed. He looked away, and Elyan could see his jaw muscles working.
"Merlin?" Gwaine said quietly.
Elyan shook his head. Gwaine grabbed his shoulders fiercely, almost knocking Oswin away.
"What does that mean, Elyan?" He said, tone hard, but not uncaring. "I need to know. Is he dead?"
"I couldn't find him," Elyan answered breathlessly. "I don't know... I couldn't..."
Gwaine bowed his head for a moment.
"Right," he said. "We need to get you out of here."
Elyan stumbled and nearly fell when Gwaine took Oswin's weight. He all but carried the young man toward the stream as Elyan trailed behind, feeling lost.
"Go on, get in, Elyan," Gwaine said when they reached the stream. "As long as you keep his head above the water, the current will carry you out. Let it do the work. You've earned a rest."
Elyan obeyed tiredly, though something about the way Gwaine was talking bothered him. It didn't click until Gwaine handed Oswin down to him.
"Wait," he said, heart quickening. "Where are you going?"
"You'll be fine. Go," Gwaine said, turning.
"What about you?" Gwaine kept walking and Elyan found himself growing frantic. "Gwaine!"
At his panicked shout, the other man stopped, shoulders slumped. He turned and met Elyan's eye for a moment.
"I have to try," he said. Then, he ran down the wall and disappeared through the door into the castle.
"No!" Elyan shouted. He struggled to pull himself and Oswin out of the water. He had to stop Gwaine. The other man didn't know what it was like in there, and soon the whole place would burn.
He had just gotten Oswin onto dry ground when an explosive force knocked both men under water. Desperately, Elyan grabbed Oswin and dragged him to the surface. As Gwaine had said, the current carried them toward safety, and Elyan was too exhausted to fight anymore. Oswin- somehow still conscious- was staring back at the castle in awe. Elyan followed his gaze.
After taking damage from hundreds of explosions, the entire west wall had finally collapsed. The upper floors were completely exposed while the lower were buried.
Gwaine and Merlin were on their own.
As Elyan and Oswin reached the drainage gate, bright orange flecks of light flew over their heads toward the castle, like falling stars against the dark sky above. As he pulled his injured companion underwater and swam for the safety of the forest, he only hoped his friends' luck could hold out.
In Gwaine's experience, when people called you "lucky" what they meant was "fast and good at dodging." Well, Gwaine used all the luck he could as he sprinted through the corridors. He didn't bother with stealth. Anyway, the sorcerers seemed more concerned with the fire spreading rapidly through the upper floors. It was an excellent distraction. Or at least, it would be, until it caught up with him and burned him to a crisp.
Now that he was inside, he had only one goal: get to the dungeons. Merlin was a prisoner and, as far as Gwaine could see, the best place to keep a prisoner was in the dungeon. Also, it was the only place in the castle that Gwaine knew how to find. There wouldn't be much logic to bursting into random rooms in a place this big. For Gwaine to have a shot at finding him, Merlin had to be in the dungeon.
He had to be.
The two men sat side by side, staring out at the lake. Merlin could sense her there. Freya. They were on the Island of Avalon, but at the same time, they weren't. They were behind, or beneath, or in between the real place. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin could see small moving spots of light. He guessed these were the Sidhe, but every time he tried to focus on one, it faded from sight. He was actually quite glad about that. He did not want to try to explain the Sidhe to Arthur right now.
Arthur.
The king had gone very quiet, as if there was nothing left to say. Merlin felt like something inside was being slowly torn apart. He knew he was hurting his friend. He also knew it had to be done. That didn't make it any easier.
If only he could make Arthur understand.
"When Kanen attacked Ealdor," Merlin said quietly, eyes on the waves, letting Freya's peace wash over him. "I almost stayed behind. I felt a responsibility. To my mother. To my people. If something happened, and I wasn't there, it would be my fault. I told you that. You said you understood."
Arthur shifted beside him in a way that meant Merlin had hit home, but Arthur didn't want to admit it. Smiling, Merlin went on.
"That's how it is with magic," he said solemnly. "Those who practice magic, they are my people too. Even those that have gone wrong. I have to try to help them any way I can. If I go back to Camelot with you and stop practicing magic, I'll be turning my back on them. If I go back with you and keep doing magic in secret, you'll suspect it, and it'll drive a wedge between us. We'd end up resenting each other, maybe even hate each other. I don't think I could handle that."
Arthur's fists clenched in a way that said he couldn't either.
"So," Merlin said, like it wasn't one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. "I think it's pretty clear, don't you? I'll leave and try to look after my people, you'll stay and take care of yours. Unless, you've changed your mind about allowing magic in Camelot?"
Arthur's frame stiffened beside him.
"I didn't think so."
Silence reigned for a few long moments.
"It's not fair," said Arthur.
"Life rarely is," said Merlin.
Gwaine could barely see through the smoke, but he pressed on. It eased slightly as he took another flight of stairs toward the dungeon. Reaching the bottom, he paused, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the corridor. At last, he was able to discern the faint outline of the dungeon door. He ran to it.
Mordred looked out over the treetops at the orange glow that was Sarrum's former stronghold. It was a disaster. Their best chance at a stronghold, lost to the flames. Many of his people, his soldiers, gone as well. The responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he knew they had stayed willingly to give him a chance. For the future of magic. For their priestess.
He turned and walked further into the mountain cave where they had settled. Morgana was sitting there, staring ahead, but not really seeing anything. She'd been this way since she awoke, hours ago. Mordred sighed, rubbing his forehead. If it was permanent... but no, she would be fine. Warmth, shelter, and a few decent meals would set her right soon enough. For now he simply spoke to her, sure that after so much time alone, the sound of a friend would bring her some comfort.
"To think," he said, sitting beside her and taking her hand. "He left you in that pit. Locked away with that dead beast, as if you hadn't breath left to fight. Well, Emrys has taken your place. He will be trapped in that cave for all time, buried with the last of his ilk."
Morgana's brow creased. She seemed confused. She took a breath to speak, and Mordred held his own. He was disappointed when she spoke only two cryptic words.
"Not dead."
Arthur didn't want to understand. He wanted to hit Merlin and call him a fool and make him come home. After the last time they won back Camelot, Arthur had felt that things were finally going right. He had followed his heart and married Gwen. The people loved her. He was surrounded by faithful, loyal knights. None of his advisors told him to do things that made his skin crawl. But now, his most trusted advisor and friend wanted to leave him only a few months into what should have been their golden age.
The infuriating part was, Arthur did understand. He understood having a duty to his people. He saw why Merlin had to leave Camelot. Now that he knew who Merlin really was, the servant wouldn't follow a master who didn't accept him fully- who wouldn't accept his people. He was done hiding and waiting.
As a friend, Arthur wanted to take Merlin as he was. After all, he trusted Merlin. Maybe Merlin could show him a side of magic he'd never seen before. But every time he opened his mouth to say this, he heard the dragon's roar, the dorocha's scream, and his father's dying gasps, and the words died in his throat.
Merlin was the best man he knew. If he couldn't practice magic without pain and death following, who could?
Arthur couldn't accept magic. He just... couldn't.
"Where will you go?" Arthur asked.
"Not sure," Merlin said, shifting.
"Oh God," Arthur scrubbed both hands over his face. "How is it that you kept your magic a secret for so long?! You are the worst liar..."
"Guess you were pretty thick," Merlin said, with a half-hearted chuckle.
Arthur obliged him with an equally half-hearted shove. The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Somehow, it felt like their time was almost up, and Arthur didn't want to rush the moments they had left. Still, he had to know.
"Mordred?" he forced himself to ask.
Merlin nodded.
"Will you be alright?" Arthur said, casting a sideways glance at his friend.
He caught Merlin's smirk before the servant ducked his head.
"Are you worried?" Merlin's tone is light and joking, and four or five jesting replies flitted through Arthur's head. What came out was one simple, honest word.
"Yes."
Merlin's wide eyed stare was more comical than any retort Arthur could have given. Even so, Arthur met his gaze seriously and steadily. The corner of Merlin's mouth twitched upward.
"I'll be alright," he said.
Arthur nodded.
"When you're out there facing the sorcerers, fighting Mordred, I..." he swallowed, somewhat painfully, eyes fixed on the sea before him. "I don't want you to feel that you're alone."
Merlin was silent for a long moment before he spoke.
"You're a loyal friend, Arthur."
The grey world started to fade.
"Gaius! I think he's coming round! Arthur? Ar-"
-thur stood, offering his hand to Mer-
"-lin! Are you in here, mate? Answer me! Merl-"
-in took Arthur's hand pulling himself to stand before his Ki-
"-ng is waking. Send a messenger to the queen at once! Arthur, if you can hear me, squeeze my ha-"
-nds clasped, the two friends paused for a moment, knowing that this parting could be their last. Then, Arthur pulled Merlin in, wrapping his arm around the servant's now nearly insubstantial shoulders.
"I'm going to miss you," he said tightly before pulling away and meeting Merlin's tearful gaze.
"Wish I could say the same," teased Merlin, ruining the effect as he clasped Arthur's shoulder tightly. "Just... don't be a prat."
"Still giving me orders?" Arthur grinned.
"Still a cabbage head?"
"Better a cabbage head than a-"
Light and color swirled around him. Voices stretched and bent in the air. The only solid thing was his hand clasped with...
Gaius. Not Merlin.
"Good to have you back, Sire," the old physician smiled.
Arthur managed to return the smile before he passed out, entering a dreamless, healing sleep.
It was so dark, Merlin couldn't be sure his eyes were open until the smoke started stinging them. He scrambled to his feet. In the distance, he could hear a voice yelling his name. As he focused on his hearing, he became aware of another, much closer sound.
Breathing.
Something large, down here with him, breathing.
Merlin's heart pounded fast against his ribcage as he pressed his back to the wall.
Then, he stopped, cocking his head. There was something familiar about this presence. Something very familiar indeed.
"Merlin!" Gwaine bellowed, feeling desperate. Chunks of flaming wood from the ceiling above were raining down. It seemed as though this rescue was doomed whether or not he found Merlin. There was no way out.
"Merlin," he said, voice losing it's power. "If you can hear me, come toward the sound of my voice. I'll find a way to get you out of this, I swea-"
His desperate speech was interrupted by a large white blur shooting up from one of the trap doors. Gwaine gaped as a ruddy great dragon landed before him. A familiar face peeked over the huge reptile's neck.
"Need a lift?" Merlin asked, in a casual tone. "She's only a baby, but I think she can at least get us out of here."
"That thing's a baby?" Gwaine tried to say. What came out was an airy garble of hisses and gasps.
"Oookay," said Merlin, turning his attention to the dragon. "Aithusa, piáse to trichotó ánthropo kaina mas párei apó edó!"
Tremors traveled down Gwaine's spine at the fury and strength of Merlin's words. Before he could get over the shock, the dragon seized him around the waist as if he were a doll and surged into the air. Just as Gwaine thought they would slam into the flaming ceiling above, the dragon spat out a column of fire.
The beast burst from the flaming castle, fearsome in the orange glow of the fire. She hovered for a moment, then shot off, graceful wings glinting in the moonlight. Soon, those watching lost sight, and wondered if they had only imagined it in the blackness. But though the night was dark, the dawn would come soon and swift.
For the white dragon boded well for Albion, for Emrys and Arthur, and for the land they would build together.
(AN: This is not the end, just the beginning... Some of you guys totally called it. In my version of events, Morgana and Aithusa have been in the dungeon for maybe a month or two. Not long enough to deform Aithusa. I really felt like the writer's treatment of Aithusa was kind of symbolic of what they did with the entire show's potential: take something awesome and hopeful and turn it to something lame and sad. I promise I won't keep Merlin and Arthur apart for too long. I plan to make sure every upcoming episode features both of them at some point.)