Okay guys. There has been no excuse for my lateness. I'm extremely sorry, and I hope you can forgive me... and I hope this Chapter is worth the wait!
Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of their characters.
Everything was cold. Her whole body was set in this position and had been for hours. Her hand was still wrapped tightly around Mordred's sword, her arm still outstretched from trying to swipe Merlin to the ground. She remembered seeing his eyes blaze gold, just like hers did, until she could feel her body freeze. It all happened so fast: in under a second, every limb, every muscle and every bone had been frozen in place, and, no matter what spell she recited inside her head, she could not undo the damage Merlin had inflicted. She was trapped in this state.
Her eyes and ears could still register the world around her, though. She had witnessed her blade inflict damage towards Merlin's back via Mordred's hand, after the spell made her incapable of killing him herself. She wanted to snort with derision at the expression of Merlin's face when the dagger plunged into his back, but she couldn't. Instead, she had to see Merlin's scrunched face morph into an expression of intention. She wanted to call out to Mordred, to run as Merlin closed his eyes and plunged his magic into the environment around them. Instead, Mordred only paced backwards, sneering at Arthur as Merlin held him back. He should have been running!
Suddenly, Morgana had to watch the ground erupt with gigantic roots, all of which seemed to be chasing Mordred in the courtyard, licking his ankles. She would have cried out, if she had any control over her body, as Mordred was flung to ground, and crushed underneath the vines. Rain struck down like daggers of ice upon her, and she knew the muddy ground below Mordred would be masking him as the roots continued to suppress him. Yet she could do nothing to help him; it was pure torture.
After Merlin, his beloved King and the knights fled the scene, Morgana still hadn't found a way to break the spell. She's tried everything she could inside her own mind, but her magic felt as cold as her body did. Somehow, Merlin had found a way to induce the spell upon her magic, too. He was clever, and extremely powerful if he could conjure all those spells with all the injuries he'd sustained.
Morgana decided she would have to wait out the spell; it wasn't going to hold forever. Maybe Mordred would wake up and free her. She doubted it, though. Unfortunately, a lot of time had passed, and Mordred still hadn't roused from his bruised slumber. If Morgana could have cried, she would have. Instead, though, she had to watch the noon sun float above her, almost blinding her eyes, and continue its journey into the trees around her. They seemed so still now. Blazing pinks, pastel oranges and delicate lilacs and blues stained the sky, a dark shade of purple creeping into the horizon opposite the brighter colours, as the sun set behind her. Dusk was upon her, and Arthur and Merlin could be miles away if they had horses.
Then, in the midst of her thoughts, Morgana could feel her right hand warming, her left hand following suit swiftly after. Then both arms seemed to thaw out like they were ice-cubes by a fire. Confused, Morgana dared to move her fingers.
They moved. In fact, the stiff bones gave a slight click under the movements, enough sound to enlighten Morgana. She couldn't see them move, but she could hear them and feel them obeying her mental commands. Her toes then felt like they were on fire, and the flames moved and spread throughout her feet and legs. She wiggled her toes too, and had the same reaction as her fingers: stiffness, a click, then loose, fluid movements were made possible. The heat spread throughout her body until her whole head was engulfed.
It took some time before Morgana could stand: whenever she lifted her head up, a bought of sickness swept through her, and her vision became too blurry to see anything; her legs still felt stiff, but whenever they loosened, they felt more like water than limbs. It took another hour before Morgana could get to feet and hobble over to Mordred.
He was even worse than Morgana.
Brown, dried blood was glued to his own skin as well as the dark fabric of his clothes; bruises emblazoned his body with black and blue, contrasting starkly with his snow white skin. He looked like death had smiled upon him, and had taken him victim. But he wasn't dead. Morgana made sure of that.
In an instant, Morgana had one of her shaky hands covering Mordred's abused forehead, incanting: "forbærning andfangol héafod," over and over again. When she felt sure his head had healed properly, Morgana turned to the rest of his body.
A sudden wave of sadness crept into Morgana: Merlin had done this to Mordred only a few hours ago. He'd cast a spell to hypnotise the plants into his own doing, and this was the result. He'd hurt Mordred. Damn, he'd nearly killed Mordred! Was this how Arthur felt about Morgana and Mordred? He'd seen what they'd done to Merlin, how Merlin was virtually dead... was that why he'd not banished Merlin after witnessing him perform some of the most powerful magic Morgana had ever seen? That was the only saddening sense of empathy Morgana held to her dear 'brother' – knowing you could do nothing but heal the injuries you could not prevent on another - as her weary body made the exasperating effort to heal the broken bones Mordred was sure to have. The bruises had said it all.
"Forbærning þæs scinn, forbærning þæs bán, forbærning andfangol afol swá wit éaðe cyningæðe þæs bregustól," Morgana uttered forcefully, skimming her hands lightly over Mordred's clothes as she spread her magic through the maze of veins inside his body. The magic that pulsed in the earth around her lent her aid, confusingly – only a few hours ago, they had worked with Merlin in order to create this mess. Magic is a strange, mysterious being, Morgana mused to herself.
After a few minutes of chanting: "Forbærning þæs scinn, forbærning þæs bán, forbærning andfangol afol swá wit éaðe cyningæðe þæs bregustól," Morgana could finally see that Mordred was making progress: his bruises were yellowing, fading away into his skin which was beginning to lighten and regain its slight colour; bones which had looked slightly out of place to Morgana were beginning to take their rightful places in the body. A smile slipped onto Morgana's sunken, tired face as Mordred's eyes flickered open. If Merlin had been there, he would have thought Morgana had returned to the kind natured, good hearted person she had been only a few years ago.
"How are you?" Morgana said, still smiling.
"'m 'kay," Mordred groaned. "Fel' better."
"Don't worry. Once we've fixed you up, we will have our revenge," Morgana said, her kind smile morphing into an evil smirk.
Mordred sat up, the word revenge echoing inside his ears. "What d'you have 'n mind?"
Out of nowhere, Arthur's Colour Stick suddenly caught alight in the distance of the courtyard. Blue flames burst out among the courtyard, sparkling elegantly in the light of the sun. Then, the ground suddenly shook, exploding with the force of a volcano, sprouting out roots and vines from below the ground. Everything around Arthur had suddenly breathed in ferocious life, and it was all Merlin's doing... it was all Merlin's doing... it was all Merlin's doing...
"...Arthur, what happened back there...is Merlin still alive...how were the holes in the ground made...why are you not answering our questions..."
All talk seemed coherent to Arthur, useless. The Knights should be more fixated on running as fast as they could before Merlin died from his injuries, or at least telling Arthur that they knew some form of treatment for Merlin. If they had no knowledge, then their best bet was to run. Camelot would only be a two day ride if they sprinted the entire length of the journey, through day and night. Yes. The horses would suffer, but with plenty to drink and eat along the way, and with good rest on return to Camelot, they would recover. They'd fare better than Merlin.
No, that was cruel to the horses, as well as Merlin: the ride would be bumpy, risking his injuries, and they would have to keep the wounds clean in case of infection. He knew full well that the horses wouldn't be as fast if they didn't stop to rest, either. Neither would the knights.
Arthur continued to run full force back to the area where they'd left the horses. Even with Merlin flailing aimlessly about in his care, Arthur was the first man back at base.
Roaring clouds then billowed and swirled above everyone's heads, and fear sent Arthur's blood running cold. Mordred was darting and dodging the hungry roots to no avail, as one clipped his ankle, sending the young man falling to his feet where he would be crushed by every plant surfacing the area. It was all Merlin's doing...
Arthur's trusty brown mare neighed at the sight of her master, which triggered a chorus of excited horses as Leon, Elyan, Gwaine and Percival gathered behind Arthur and Merlin.
Merlin still hadn't woken up yet. Arthur had decided to let the man rest before they rode out, but for how long? They couldn't wait for very long... no one knew whether Morgana or Mordred was capable of following the men, and when they would decide to engage in combat, for which they would surely lose unless Merlin decided to wake up and save the day.
Now, that was a thought: how many times had Merlin just decided to 'save the day'? How long had Merlin had magic? Had every mysterious escape been at the hands of Arthur's own manservant – his own friend – and was this new turn of events the reason why Merlin came out of gruesome battles almost unscathed? It certainly explained a lot to Arthur, but the others didn't know.
Well, they didn't know yet.
They would soon, though, judging by the amount of questions they bombarded Arthur with almost every second and Arthur's lack of energy and mental stability. He'd just witnessed his most trusted friend perform an act which Arthur hated with every fibre of his being! It was going against everything his father had stood for, everything his father tried to protect him from! Uther had spent over 20 years fighting magic users to protect Arthur. They were all evil, they all wanted to see Camelot fall into their hands and make innocent people suffer.
But, Uther had made innocent sorcerers suffer, hadn't he? He had drowned children, just because they were born with magic... and, he burnt people at the stake for just admitting they had magic. He'd nearly sent Gaius – one of the most loyal people Arthur had ever known – to the stake for that same reason. Weren't those kind of magic users just the same as Uther? Morgana seemed to be... even if she didn't realise herself.
But am I? Arthur suddenly thought. Am I really going to kill my best friend all because he used magic? He saved my life! Arthur mused, but when Arthur looked down at Merlin's cold, bruised body, Arthur knew he wasn't like his father: he was going to save him, not send him into the flames to die.
The Ban on Magic would certainly have to be given some thought on...
But, did he have to think about it at all? What if Arthur kept Merlin's magic a secret? Merlin obviously had – though Arthur felt secretly betrayed that Merlin couldn't trust him – and maybe Arthur could keep it that way until he was completely sure on his thoughts about magic.
But, what about Merlin? Arthur thought, suddenly saddened. Merlin has kept this a secret for his entire life. Surely he should be able to walk free for once in his life, he continued. The Ban on magic had reduced Merlin's life to secrecy the moment Merlin stepped through the borders into Camelot, and Arthur couldn't even begin to comprehend how much Merlin had to suffer at his own hand, at his own statements about how magic was evil when Merlin had magic himself. Merlin wasn't evil.
"Arthur please!" Gwaine begged, forcing Arthur back to the real world. "Tell us what happened!"
Arthur sighed. "Alright, I'll tell you," he started. "But don't think any different of him, please. I certainly don't."
Elyan and Percival looked to each other, confused. "Why would we think any different of Merlin?"
Arthur paused. "Because what I'm about to tell you goes against everything we are supposed to stand against," Arthur continued. He then looked towards Merlin, who was beginning to rouse. "But first, I think we should cover some ground before night descends and before Merlin is too weary to ride," he ordered.
Time seemed to move slowly for Arthur during the next few hours; the urgency in his voice for Merlin's sake had been sensed by his men, and they all packed their belongings in record time. The horses were ready, but Merlin was drifting in and out of consciousness far too much for Arthur. The poor man could barely sit up, and Arthur really worried how the ride would feel.
"Merlin, are you feeling up for riding?" He asked quietly.
Merlin groaned, but nodded.
Arthur returned the gesture with a warm smile. "I want you to know, I don't think any different of you. What you did out there – I can't thank you enough. You saved us all," Arthur said. "I'm still processing it, but, we'll figure it all when we return home, okay?"
Merlin was still for a second, but nodded again. Then, a small smile crept upon his bruised, bloody face; Arthur felt like the happiest person after seeing just that smile.
They rode on for next few hours until the sun had finally set through the gaps between the trees. Merlin had fallen asleep, his head resting gently on Arthur's shoulder as the rhythmic strides of the horse below them lulled him to sleep.
Arthur felt Merlin needed some proper rest before they continued their ride, so he signalled for the Knights to stop in a small, dense clearing.
Trees stood tall, and menacing, and Arthur couldn't get the image of the power that Merlin had bestowed upon similar plants during the much lighter hours of the day. He could even feel a small fear nagging inside the back of his skull; Merlin would only have to imagine a branch bending and stretching down to breathe life into such an inanimate object. It was terrifying, but Arthur pushed his fear away. It was Merlin, after all.
Gwaine jumped off his horse, immediately setting off to gather firewood for the night as Percival took Merlin away from Arthur's hands, and laid him down by a sloping tree. Percival had perched Merlin on his side, placing his own blanket over Merlin as the bruised servant began to shiver. Night was drawing over, and, without Gwaine's fire, they would all begin to freeze.
Arthur immediately jumped down from his horse, and let Leon and Elyan take his beloved mare to be fed and watered. He inspected the area; no bandits were around that could perform a surprise attack; a small river gently trickled a few minutes away from their camp with fresh water. He would need to alert everyone before they left to refill their water skins; the dense amount of tall trees dispersed the further Arthur walked west towards Camelot, which would make their ride easier to navigate.
After half an hour of walking, investigating and thinking about everything he had seen earlier – the events were still replaying inside his head - Arthur returned to his settlement, which had now acquired a roaring fire and two large logs to act as seats. The others had already brought out some fruit to snack on while they waited for Merlin to rest.
"So... what were you going to tell us earlier?" Gwaine said, gently biting into an apple he'd brought with him for the rescue mission.
Arthur looked over at Merlin's innocent, sleeping position, and he wondered whether he should tell the Knights such a big secret without gaining Merlin's consent. It was his secret after all – if he wanted to tell everyone, he would have done.
He made his decision. "It's nothing," Arthur said bluntly.
"But, you made it sound so important earlier?" Leon stated.
"You said it went against everything Camelot stood for?" Elyan added.
"And you told us not to think of Merlin any differently?" Percival said.
Gwaine just stared at Arthur, taking in everything. Then, he dropped his apple, leaving it to become filthy in the soil. Arthur gave him a knowing look, realising Gwaine had worked it out: Gwaine would never drop an apple – his favourite food in the entire known world – unless it was something as shocking as... magic.
Then, a gentle smile crept up the Knights' face. "I knew it," he mumbled as he looked over to see Merlin tremble underneath the blanket. Arthur thought that maybe Merlin hadn't gotten warm enough from the fire yet, and returned to smile back at Gwaine. He knew he would understand.
Suddenly, Merlin's shivers turned violent. "No..." he whispered incoherently to himself. "No!"
Arthur and Gwaine removed their shared smiles and raced over to Merlin, who was sweating and shaking underneath his blanket. In fact, his movements had been begun to become so violent that some of his wounds had reopened, as darkening shades of red began to seep into the blanket.
"Merlin, please, wake up!" Gwaine begged, leaning over Merlin's erratic state.
"No, no, no, not the blades, NO!" Merlin hollered breathlessly.
"I think he's having a nightmare," Elyan said, furiously trying to keep Merlin's legs from leaving the floor as the man struggled inside his own mind. "Percy, I can't keep his legs still!"
Percival moved from restraining Merlin's slashed arms to stand beside Elyan, keeping Merlin's legs down much better than Elyan could. They swapped positions, as Elyan moved to grab Merlin's arms and pin them behind his back, and had much better control.
Arthur, meanwhile, had taken on the most painful position: calming Merlin down.
"Please, Mordred..." Merlin continued.
"It's okay, Merlin, you're here with me and the Knights. We're not going to let anything happen to you, I promise," Arthur said, stroking Merlin's messy black hair. It felt dirty, sweaty and matted, but Arthur had to do it. It was one of the few relaxation methods Gaius had taught him as a child whenever his father had gotten sick and Arthur wanted to help. Pain broke Arthur's heart as he witnessed Merlin confront some of the darkest memories inside his own dreams. Well, nightmares, really.
Merlin's body calmed at the words, and Gwaine urged Arthur continue, giving a pleading stare as Merlin continued to writhe in pain.
"It's just a nightmare, Merlin. Open your eyes, please. We're all here for you."
Merlin's body stopped convulsing, and the Knights all relaxed when they knew they could let go: Percival released Merlin's legs; Elyan could unpin Merlin's arms behind his back; Gwaine and Leon could let go of their grip around Merlin's waist and chest, but Arthur never stopped stroking Merlin's hair until his eyes opened, revealing his frightened blue irises.
"Arthur?" Merlin croaked, hoarse from screaming.
"It's okay Merlin, you're safe," Arthur said, relieved, sitting Merlin up.
Merlin's lower lip trembled, and he clasped his head as everything dawned on him. "I-I was there... I was in the... in the castle again and Mor-Mordred was there and h-he had the blades again-"
"Hey, it's okay, it was just a dream..." Arthur trailed, tears nearly welling in his eyes at the thought that simple blades could inflict such horrible damage to Merlin. His friend had to endure levels of torture which seemed unreal to Arthur.
This whole ordeal seemed unreal.
"Are you feeling better?"
Merlin paused, fumbling for the right words. "Yeah, I'm fine," was all he could reply with, but he wasn't really.
"Is it okay if I tell them? About your..." Arthur leaned in: "Magic?"
Merlin looked at him, then looked back at Elyan, Gwaine, Percival and Leon, who were all wearing concerned expressions after witnessing Merlin undergo a terrifying nightmare. They knew he'd go through many more, possibly for years to come.
"Yes, it's okay... they need to know," Merlin said. "But... I want to tell them."
Arthur understood: this was Merlin's secret to tell, not his. If Merlin needed any help with anything, such as stubborn Knights who didn't see reason to Merlin's explanation, then Arthur would step in. "Okay then."
So it was in that moment, that Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, helped pull up his best friend and manservant, Merlin, the man who had endured almost a week of starvation and painful torture under the influence of magic, and aided him in his limped walk over towards the crackling fire that had been light by the Knights of Camelot, and set him up for one of the biggest moments in Camelot's history.
"Guys, I have something to tell you," Merlin started, clearing his throat. Once he knew he held every man's attention, he began again: "I have magic."
There. It's done. Thought I'd leave you with a small cliff-hanger: the magic reveal! This isn't one of my best chapters, but I haven't really been writing much for a while. I hope it's up to standard, though.
Feel free to review and stuff!