Author's note: I made a gif for chapter 6! First time ever I make a gif, it was fun. ^^
oOo
What it means to be a king
The soft fabric fluttered between his fingers, grazing his wrist and drifting with the wind. Arthur could have sworn it came to life the moment it touched the rope.
All colours merged into a dull grey under the eclipse's shade. The long shreds of fabric were hanging on loosely stretched ropes, and all looked the same colour.
Arthur was fastening the strip of cloth with the others when he heard muffled footsteps behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw the High Priestess grind to a halt a few meters away, her eyes sharpening on Arthur and his hands tying the knot.
She didn't say a word, but she wrinkled her brow. Arthur hesitated and withdrew his hands from the strip of fabric, wondering if he had done something wrong by imitating what the Druids were doing. He had watched them hammering sticks into the ground, stretching ropes between them and cutting ribbons on the dead's clothes to hang them up. He assumed it was some kind of funeral rite, so he clumsily tried to assist. He had no idea what he was doing. After all, he never did understand the Old Religion and he had offended its practitioners many times without meaning to do so.
"I just wanted to help," he turned to face Eleanor. "I apologize if my initiative is inappropriate, I meant no disrespect to your beliefs."
The eclipse's twilight bathed the druidess' face in shadows, but he could still see her grey hair wavering down on her cloak, and how her eyes were red from crying. She gave off the same kind of tragic dignity that Arthur, as a child, had admired on the statues and tapestries of the past fallen kings.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Arthur Pendragon. You showed compassion and humility by taking part in our ritual."
"Please accept my condolences. I am terribly sorry about what happened."
Eleanor gave him a weak smile and lifted a shaking hand. The movement laid her wrist bare as she carefully touched the strip of cloth Arthur had tied up, revealing the druidic symbol tattooed on her skin there. The fabric fluttered against her palm like a beating heart.
"Restaþ friþgearde…" she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion on the last syllable.
She released the strip of cloth, letting it writhe in the wind.
Silent, Eleanor gazed in sorrow at what remained of the Druids' village, and Arthur did the same out of respect. Under the black sky adorned with its thin circle of light, a landscape filled with darkness stretched as far as he could see, haunted with darker figures jabbing more sticks into the ground and hanging more ropes up. Gusts of ashes rose in swirls and fell back into a slow rain covering the freshly dug graves. In the distance, he could hear sobbing and wailing melding with the wind.
"Hanging up a substitute for their earthly body anchors the souls that have been too brutally torn from life," the High Priestess said in a low voice. "To make sure they won't get lost in our world and be consumed with terror, we tie them up next to each other so they keep together and find peace on the way to the realm of the dead. The last time I took part in such a ritual, I was only a child. All I wished for was to go with my parents, my brothers and sisters to the other side."
Arthur looked at Eleanor. The High Priestess was staring at the hundreds of shreds of cloth floating around, and her eyes were so sad Arthur felt his heart grow heavy.
"This land is cursed now," the old woman murmured. "And it will remain that way as long as the dead are not resting in peace."
Arthur looked away and took in the devastated landscape. As he listened to the wounded moaning and the infected crying in agony, something became very clear to him.
"You can't stay here."
Arthur had involuntarily spoken in an overbearing voice, the same way he used to give orders to lead his men into battle or impose his strategy to his counsellors. He felt the High Priestess' eyes sharpening on him.
"You need water, food and medical care for the wounded," he continued with all of his royal authority. "I offer you shelter in Merlin's underground city, there are hundreds of empty rooms and the kitchen is loaded with provisions."
Eleanor started back, horror and disgust widening her eyes.
"There is no way in hell I'm going back to this place!" she hissed through clenched teeth.
The High Priestess flinched when Arthur put his hand on her frail shoulder, and leaned in to stare right into her eyes.
"Merlin told me what happened in the past, Eleanor. I know how your family has been killed. I know how painful it would be for you to go back there, and I understand your reluctance…"
So many raw emotions were battling in the druidess' grey eyes, but behind the anger and outrage, Arthur thought he detected hesitation and a glimpse of vulnerability. He decided to focus on this, and tightened his grip on the woman's shoulder.
"… but this isn't about you right now. Your people's survival is at stake. This people are relying on you, they are under your responsibility. Look at them."
Eleanor complied and glanced at the wounded lying on the ashes littering the ground, then at the Druids tying the last strips of cloth and crying over their dead loved ones.
"Forget about the past." Arthur's voice was firm. "Only the present and the future matter. You have to protect those who are still alive."
When she made eye contact with Arthur again, he could tell that her will was wavering. But the moment was interrupted by muffled footsteps coming from behind. She pulled away from him and they turned to face an old man with a square jaw and prominent eyebrows who was walking toward them, his magical staff digging into the thick layer of ashes with every step. Arthur remembered meeting him when he came along with Merlin to the Elders' gathering.
The High Priestess found her composure back and her face became distant and dignified again.
"Rheyelan. What are the news?"
"James just arrived," the man sternly announced. "He says only the Valley of the Fallen Kings suffered from that blast. The rest of the country is unscathed, but the whole world is wondering about the unnatural eclipse."
The High Priestess nodded grimly.
"How many of the Elders are still alive?"
"Almost all of them are dead or dying. There is only Anhora, James and the both of us left."
"Did Anhora regain consciousness?"
"Yes, but he's very weak, he needs rest. James is taking care of him."
Eleanor pulled down her cloak's hood, veiling her face in the shadow.
"Anhora will rest later. We have to gather the Council to decide on our community's future." She glanced briefly at Arthur. "The Once and Future King will attend the meeting, he owes us some explanation. And there is a proposal he would like to make."
She whirled around and gestured for them to follow her. They walked through the ruins of the village and the stretched ropes adorned with long shreds of cloth. The infected Druids were tied up and seizing on the ground. Pure hatred distorted their features, and they followed the three of them with pitch black eyes.
Further on, apart from the others, they found James crouching at Anhora's side. The young Druid was wearing his modern clothes and didn't seem to have noticed them coming. His thick mats of tangled brown hair were gathered up into a bun, clearing the back of his neck and showing the druidic symbol inked there. He was grazing with his fingertips the forehead of the Keeper of the unicorns who struggled to breathe.
"James. We have been waiting for you for hours. Where were you?"
The Druid tilted his head to show he heard Eleanor's question.
"I was working at the restaurant when the eclipse plunged London in the dark," he sighed. "Everyone rushed out in the streets to take pictures and post them online. Looks like the planet's stopped rotating and the moon deviated from its course to stop right above us and somehow block the sun for all the United Kingdom, which is technically impossible. Scientists are going batshit crazy."
His drawling voice was unusually grim. The young Druid stood up to face them, his face stern.
"If I'd known our community was in danger, I'd not have wasted a second and I'd have come right away. What happened here?"
Rheyelan shook his head, looking downcast.
"There is nothing you could have done, James."
"I knew it would happen," Eleanor said sternly. "I saw it in a dream. As a High Priestess of the Old Religion, I could only bow to our destiny. I knew nothing I could do or say would change what has been written."
Wheezing, Anhora tried to sit up.
"I relied on this prophecy and brought Emrys and Arthur to the Crystal Cave…" He broke into a coughing fit. "I wanted to find answer, to know where the evil that had been decimating us for months came from…"
Rheyelan knelt to help Anhora drink from a flask, and Arthur decided to speak up:
"We've been attacked by a sorcerer named Cornelius Sigan. He took possession of Merlin's body and blew up the cave, the blast destroyed the forest and the village."
Rheyelan narrowed his eyes sceptically. "… Cornelius Sigan?"
The High Priestess opened her eyes wide as if she just realized something, and fear registered on her face.
"The raven in my dream… Sigan's seal is a raven…"
Trembling like a leaf in Rheyelan's hold, Anhora nodded.
"Do you remember the legends of the old times I used to tell you when you were children? The tale of Cornelius Sigan, the dreadful sorcerer who built the castle of Camelot and carried on a reign of terror over Albion was your favourite, Eleanor…"
Arthur blinked, taken aback. The castle of Camelot, built by a sorcerer? What was this nonsense? His tutors always taught him that Camelot had been founded by kings of the old times who ended up killing each other in deathly wars and let magic corrupt them until Uther came along to restore order and rule over the land.
The High Priestess tightened her grip on her staff, her eyes darkening.
"Legend has it he will come back one day to get his revenge. And if by possessing Emrys' body he took over his magic too…"
"There is more," Anhora hissed through his teeth. "Cornelius Sigan did not just take Emrys' body and magic. He spent centuries draining magic at its very source, the Crystal Cave. Those last few months, he started using the sacred crystals to reach sorcerers and magical creatures to absorb their energy."
"The plague…" Rheyelan figured out, eyes widening in shock.
"Indeed," the Keeper of the unicorns said. "He amassed so much power he has become invincible. He can submit any creature of magic to his will and control them. He exerted his power on me, and believe me, it is impossible to resist his hold. Not even Emrys could."
Arthur looked down and gritted his teeth thinking about Merlin. At this very moment as they wasted time blathering, he didn't dare wonder what Sigan was doing with his friend's body and magic… Was Merlin even still alive inside? Was he struggling in vain against Sigan's will like Anhora did? Or was he already dead like Grettir, crushed by all the power Sigan amassed through the centuries?
He tried to ignore the gaping hole his friend's absence was digging in him. There was no time for panicking or giving up hope. He remembered the unwavering support Merlin showed him when Arthur was exiled from his own kingdom while Morgana was sitting on his throne. Merlin never gave up then, he always believed in him.
Merlin probably saved him more times that he could ever imagine, and now it was time for Arthur to return the favour.
The Druids were Merlin's people, in a way. Until he found a way to help Merlin, Arthur would make it his duty to protect them, for him.
His hands curled into fists at his side and his eyes hardened as he raised his voice:
"We will worry about Merlin and Sigan later, there's nothing we can do about it for the moment. Right now, we need to leave this place and get you all somewhere safe to tend to the wounded. Without proper care, they won't survive long."
James sighed resignedly, folding his arms.
"Arthur's right. Also, we can't stay on these cursed lands. The dead's souls are tormented, and the enchantment protecting the Valley of the Fallen Kings is gone."
"This is why I offer you shelter in Merlin's underground city. You will be safe there. I know that's what he'd want."
Dead silence fell on their group. James arched his eyebrow pierced with a silver ring while Anhora and Rheyelan exchanged significant looks.
"There are hundreds of vacant rooms," Arthur insisted. "The kitchen is loaded with food. And Aithusa will certainly be able to help us find a way to defeat Sigan."
A strange smile curled up the corners of James' mouth.
"I'm in," he shrugged, digging his hands in his pockets. "What about you, Eleanor?"
All eyes darted to the High Priestess whose lips were tightened into a thin line.
"If it were up to me, I would rather die before I set foot in that place again," she narrowed her eyes. "But Arthur… you are right. I can't take such a decision in my people's behalf. So I will just abide by the Council's decision."
"I am not exactly thrilled by this idea either," Rheyelan said, staring intently at the High Priestess, "but what other choice do we have? James, you know of the outside world. Do you think you could find us a place to take in a hundred people including thirty wounded and sick people without attracting attention?"
"Given that I've got only a hundred pounds or so in my bank account," James said with a hint of sarcasm in his drawling voice, "no way. We won't get far like this."
Anhora took a deep breath and managed to get on his feet with Rheyelan's help.
"We have no other choice but to accept the Once and Future King's offer. Thank you, Arthur."
Arthur nodded with dignity and shook hands with the Keeper of the unicorns, then with Rheyelan, and finally with James who was now looking at him with a whole new respect in his eyes.
When Arthur held out his hand to Eleanor, the druidess clenched her fist around her staff with obvious reluctance.
"Eleanor," Arthur's voice was soft but firm. "Do it for your people."
When she finally made eye contact with Arthur, it looked like she had made her mind. She reached out to him resolutely.
Their handshake felt like an alliance.
oOo
The glowing runes carved into the rock bathed the tunnels in a soft blue light. Following Arthur's orders, the Druids were rushing around and settling down in the underground maze, keeping a safe distance from the decaying areas he warned them about, where the stone was within an inch of collapsing.
Arthur felt oddly calm, focused and in control. Perhaps it was the familiarity of giving orders and having the survival of a hundred people under his responsibility, but he felt like himself once again. There was a fire burning in his heart, and for the first time since he came out of the lake of Avalon and lost his kingdom, his loyal knights and his wife, he felt truly alive. The time for grieving what once was had gone by, and now he was determined to live and fight in this world so different from everything he ever knew.
He would get Merlin back at all costs. He would find a way to rescue him.
Arthur just told a Druid girl where to find buckets and water when James' familiar voice spoke from behind him:
"Hey, Arthur, where do I take him? Every room I've seen so far is occupied…"
He turned around to see the Druid carrying an inert child whose eyes were rolled upwards, his lips starting to turn blue. His head was wrapped in a makeshift bandage and one of his arms was lacerated to the bone. Blood was gushing from the gaping wound, streaming down to his fingertips, dripping to a red pool at James' feet.
"Over here," Arthur gestured for him to follow. "Eleanor is taking care of the most serious injuries."
They strode off down the corridors, weaving among the Druids, and rushed into a room equipped with several beds – a large family had probably lived here once.
Eleanor snapped her face up to look right at them. She was hovering over a women whose leg was broken in half, bone jutting out through the skin.
She wiped the blood off her hands in a towel and got on her feet to gently take the child from James' arms.
"Do you have everything you need?" Arthur walked closer as the High Priestess laid down the wounded boy on a bed.
"The medicines you brought us are exactly what we needed. Emrys has always taken great care to get the most efficient herbs for his potions."
Arthur glanced at the table where he had piled up every herbs, vials and weird powders Merlin had used to cure him when he had been clawed by the wyvern. Then he watched her apply a greenish paste on the arm's open wound.
"If there's anything else I can help you with…"
"You have done enough, Arthur Pendragon. We will forever be grateful."
Eleanor smiled at him shortly and went back to focus on her task. Arthur understood he was being a hindrance, so he stepped back to let her work. A young Druid girl was assisting the High Priestess, following her every move like a silent and grim shadow.
Once he and James had left the room and closed the termite-eaten door behind them, Arthur took a deep breath. He was starting to get tired. After the Council gave its agreement, they had gathered all the Druids to tell them the news before they proceed to the magical transportation to the underground city. It had been a long and tedious process, given that the few rare Druids capable of such powerful magic were almost all injured or dead. In the end, Eleanor and James had had to transport here every person one by one, just the two of them.
"How many people left to bring back?" Arthur asked the Druid in a strained voice.
Sticking his hands in his pockets, James leaned back against the wall, runes glowing blue like a halo behind him.
"None. He was the last one."
Arthur looked around. It looked like the Druids had settled in and were taking good care of the wounded. They no longer needed him to guide them.
"Good," Arthur said with a short nod. "If Eleanor or Rheyelan ask after me, tell them I went down to the cave."
"You're going to see the dragons?"
Arthur shot him a sidelong glance. The Druid stared right back unblinkingly.
"Yes, maybe Aithusa will know what needs to be done in order to defeat Sigan and help Merlin."
"Good idea. I'll go with you. Plus, it's been years since the last time I saw Aithusa."
The Druid picked up a torch from the wall and set it alight with a whispered Forbearnan, achieving with ease that very same spell Merlin had tried to teach Arthur to no avail.
"You know Aithusa?" he asked, leading the way.
"You could say that, yeah," James shrugged, following suit. "This isn't the first time I've set foot in this city, y'know. I've lived here a couple years with Emrys."
Arthur pressed his lips together and forced himself not to ask any more questions. Merlin was in peril and possessed by an evil sorcerer, now was not the time to brood over the many centuries his friend had lived without him and why he never told him anything about sharing the place with the Druid.
The sound of their footsteps echoed all around them when they walked down the stairs leading to the cave. Everything was silent there. James was just a few steps behind him, holding the flaming torch. Arthur's shadow was stretching along the walls and throbbing like a living thing.
He came to a grinding halt when he heard a noise in the distance and raised his hand to signal to James to stop and hold still. The sound became clearer and Arthur identified the clickety-clack of claws on stone just before Makkariah dashed forward to them, flapping his wings in a frenzy and leaping up the stairs four steps at a time.
"Makkariah!"
Arthur reached down to pick up the obviously panicked creature.
The baby dragon didn't let him a chance to touch him. He leaped and clung on to Arthur's wrist, hanging from there and flapping his bat-like wings frantically. Arthur winced when the dragon dug his claws into the jacket's leather to climb up his arm and wrap himself around his neck with the agility of a lizard.
"Aaaarh…"
Makkariah bleated against the ear, his burning hot breath nearly setting Arthur's hair on fire.
"Hey!" Arthur shot him a reproachful look.
The dragon just glared back stubbornly and blew a puff of smoke out of his nostrils. Tail thrashing impatiently, he opened his mouth wide to bleat even louder right into Arthur's ear:
"Aaaarrrrhhhh….!"
Arthur grimaced in pain and grabbed the big lizard by the scruff of the neck to hold him at arm's length as he kept bleating like a goat and flapping his wings like crazy.
"Calm down!" Arthur shouted at the top of his lungs to cover the noise.
Makkariah was flailing so wildly Arthur had great difficulty holding him – especially since he wasn't exactly a light weight.
"Need some help, mate?"
James was stone faced as usual, but there was a glint of mockery in his eyes.
"Something is wrong, he's not usually like this," Arthur narrowed his eyes at Makkariah. "I never heard him make this kind of sounds before."
"Aaaaaaaarh…." the dragon bleated again, thrashing wildly to get free of Arthur's grip. "Aaaaaaaaaarrrrhh….!"
"Maybe he felt what happened to Emrys," James suggested as he looked more attentively at the dragon whose scales glistened like gold with every move he made. "Dragons are bounded to the soul with their master, after all."
Arthur tried not to think of the other possibility – that Sigan's deathly grip had finally reached Merlin's youngest dragon. Makkariah's eyes had always been black, so he couldn't know for sure and chose to repress those thoughts for the moment.
Arthur cautiously drew the dragon to his chest to hold him in his arms like a newborn infant, stroking the rough and warm scales with his thumb. The touch soothed the creature who stopped struggling and looked up at him with eyes wide with distress, clutching at the t-shirt with his claws.
"Aaaarht…" he bleated plaintively. "Aaaarhrrrr…. Aaaarthurrrrrr….!"
Arthur blinked in confusion, holding the warm dragon close to his heart. Did he hear that right?
"Arthurrr!"
No, he wasn't dreaming.
"He said my name!"
The dragon wriggled out of his arms, jumped to the ground, wings flapping loudly, and turned his head to look at them.
"Arthur!" he trumpeted, then dashed off, rushing downstairs until he disappeared out of sight.
Arthur glanced at James who just raised his eyebrows.
"We'd better follow him."
They went down the stairs and reached the underground cave. The eclipse's bright circle was rippling on the surface of the lake. The salt crystals crunched under their feet as they walked between the stalagmites, haloed by the torch's light that cast hundreds of shifting shadows all around them.
Arthur heard the echo growing before the voice even rose.
"I thought I would never see you again… Arthur… James…"
That was Aithusa's voice coming from right behind them. They whirled around and the Druid raised the torch high above their heads to cast a golden light onto the giant white dragon hunched body – in all likehood they had walked right past her and just mistook her for a pile of rocks. Further away, Ghalini and Makkariah were lurking in the shadow, silent and still.
"Aithusa!" Arthur called out.
He ran straight to the giant dragon whose head was resting on the ground. She watched him come closer, her blue eyes filled with sorrow.
"I felt through my bond with Emrys that something terrible happened to my master," Aithusa murmured. "This is the end. Albion's magic is living its last moments."
Arthur reached out hesitantly and stroked the white scales. There was an old scar drawing a deep line going from her mouth to her neck. Aithusa heaved a sigh and closed her eyes, melting under the caress.
"This isn't over yet," Arthur said, trying to sound self-assured. "Merlin has been possessed by a sorcerer named Sigan who's been using the Crystal Cave to siphon off all magic of Albion. But maybe it's not too late. Can you feel if he's still alive?"
The white dragon slowly opened her eyes, and Arthur saw her irises filling with darkness for a split second. Aithusa was shaken by a painful spasm but managed to fight the evil back, which left her panting and exhausted.
"I don't know," she admitted tiredly. "All I can see and feel is darkness and my strength is running out…"
The dragon looked like she was about to lapse into unconsciousness, so Arthur panicked.
"Wait! You're my only hope… please tell me if you know of a way to defeat Sigan without harming Merlin, or at least how to extract him from his body…?"
Aithusa's clear blue eyes gazed at him, and he could see his face reflected on them.
"I don't have the power and knowledge of the dragons of the ancient times, O Once and Future King… You should ask your questions to the Lady of the Lake."
Arthur frowned and slowly removed his hand from the rough scales.
"Who is this Lady of the Lake?"
But Aithusa's eyes were already closing and she was curling up in a ball like a wounded animal, burying her head under her wing.
"Tell me! Who is she?!"
James hand on his shoulder stopped him short.
"Easy, Your Highness," the Druid drawled. "The Lady of the Lake is Emrys' confidante. I can bring you to her."
oOo
Arthur never thought he'd be standing on this lakeside again, over a month after he came back to life. In the eternal night Sigan had cursed upon Albion's lands, the lake of Avalon looked as dark as ink, only adorned by the eclipse's rippling circle of light. His breath misted every time he exhaled. He narrowed his eyes and peered at the shadows of the bare trees, searching for a presence, a figure, anything. In the distance, he could make out the concrete road and what he now knew was an advertising board. The rumbling sound of a car engine grew and headlights swept across the lake before it all faded away.
There was no one in sight. No sign whatsoever of Merlin's so-called confidante.
"Kay, so I'm gonna leave you alone with her. I'll be waiting over here 'til the both of you are done talking."
Arthur's brow furrowed and he turned toward James – he was already walking away with his hands in his pockets.
"Wait!" Arthur called out with a hint of irritation in his voice. "Where is she? Where is the Lady of the Lake?"
The Druid came to a halt and glanced back at him. It was so dark Arthur could barely make out his features, but still he saw the eyebrow pierced with the silver ring arching up, and a hand gesturing dismissively at the lakeside.
"Just go near the water, mate. She'll come to you."
With no regard for the king's sceptical face, he walked away until he became just another shadow in the dark – Arthur vaguely saw him sit down and lean against a tree.
Arthur took a deep breath and walked carefully to the lake, dead grass crackled under his feet. He stopped when his shoes sank into mud and icy water engulfed his toes.
Feeling utterly ridiculous, Arthur raised his voice and hoped he sounded self-confident enough:
"Lady of the Lake! I, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, came to talk to you!"
No answer came. All was quiet. The black surface of the lake rippled away from him in slow circles. Arthur looked around impatiently, but seconds passed and no woman came to meet him. This was a complete waste of time.
He was about to step out of the water when he heard the voice of a young maiden.
"Arthur…"
It sounded strangely close and distant at the same time, as if whispered right into his ear and floating miles away from here.
Arthur peered at the darkness more intently, but except for James sitting alone on the edge of the forest, he was all alone.
"Where are you? Show yourself!"
"I am here. Look down."
Arthur complied and lowered his head. The image reflected on the black rippling water was not his own. Instead, he saw a young brown-haired girl staring back, making him flinch in fear.
It's just magic, he reasoned himself. There's nothing to fear.
He should have known Merlin's confidante would be well-versed in magic. But to be honest, he had expected some sort of old and ugly sorceress with a liking for dresses just like the Dolma, not a young maiden immersed in icy water with her long hair floating around her head like seaweed.
Slowly and cautiously as if he was approaching a wild animal, Arthur crouched down and reached out with hesitation. His fingers grazed the pale face, pushed into the water and met no resistance: it was only a reflection without substance. She wasn't actually there. Or at least, not in the flesh.
Arthur removed his hand and shivered as his toes went numb in the cold water.
"Who are you?" he asked, stupor and fascination lacing his voice.
The reflection tilted her head unblinkingly.
"Don't you remember me?"
Arthur looked more closely at her delicate features and deep ancient eyes. He had this uneasy feeling that he should recognize her, like a distant memory of a face lost in the crowd, but nothing came back to him. So he shook his head, furrowing his brow.
"I became the Lady of the Lake after I died. It has been so for the last thousand years and a half. But during my lifetime, my name was Freya. I lived at a time when you were still only a prince."
"And we've met?"
Arthur couldn't tell if Freya's smile was amused or sad.
"Yes. You're the one who killed me."
Arthur sucked in his breath.
"What?"
"Let me refresh your memory…"
When a hand burst out of the lake, followed by a slender wrist and a naked arm, Arthur startled back and fell backwards, gaping. Freya's reflection was heaving up the water, and her head surfaced with hair streaming down her face, shoulders and chest barely covered by a dress ripped in shreds. She leaned over him, reaching for his face with a translucent hand. Her body was solely made of water. Feeling like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest, Arthur held his breath and made a concerted effort not to draw out Excalibur.
Cold liquid fingers touched his cheek, and Arthur felt a torrent of images and sensations rushing right into his mind, overwhelming his senses and his memory.
He wasn't at the lakeside any more, but in the courtyard of Camelot's castle. A full moon shone bright in the night sky. He was barefoot, terrified, and he was facing himself. This Arthur in armour and red cape standing there with his sword unsheathed looked younger. There were sinister looking guards by his side, holding spears.
Please, let me go! he begged with Freya's voice.
His torturer, Halig, stepped forward with a sneer and made his chains clatter.
No one escapes from me, the man grunted jubilantly.
Arthur felt panic overcome him. No, he'd never go back inside that cage to be treated like an animal! He'd rather die!
Midnight bells ringing broke something inside him, and he felt the curse take control of him. He howled in pain as his body burned and distorted itself, black fur growing all over. He fell on all fours, opening his mouth with an angry growl, stretching out his wings and swishing his tail furiously. All he saw in front of him now was prey. Puny humans whose bones would snap like wisps of straw under his teeth. He was eager to take a taste of their flesh and blood. He could smell their fear, which increased tenfold his urge to kill.
He pounced on Halig and lacerated him to the marrow with just a swipe from his claws, easily slashing through his heart and lungs. Looking up, Arthur saw himself charging and felt the sword thrust into his shoulder and slaying right to his heart. A fatal blow that made him howl in agony.
Shaking in pain, he tried to limp away but ended up cornered against the walls, surrounded by these hostile men led by Arthur. The prince was pointing his sword at him, with the clear intention to kill in his blue eyes. He was about to fight back when he saw Merlin in the distance watching the scene. The distraught look on his face made all his rage and bloodlust vanish.
Merlin's eyes glowed with iridescent gold, and a gargoyle's head came off from the bulwarks to crash on the ground, barely missing Arthur.
He glanced gratefully at the young sorcerer and despite the excruciating pain he managed to fly away.
Breathing heavily, Arthur broke free from this memory that was not his. The agony and terror he had felt so vividly already started to fade away like a bad dream. He was back at the lake's shore, with his feet dunking in the water and Freya's liquid frame towering over him. Her translucent face smiled as she slowly removed her hand from his cheek.
"I succumbed from the wound you inflicted on me shortly after. I died in Merlin's arms, just like you. At least this is something you and I have in common."
Arthur tried to catch his breath and process everything he felt through that memory. It had felt so real.
He suddenly realized that ever since he came back to life in this era, this was the first time, except for Sigan, he heard someone call Merlin by his name instead of Emrys.
"I'm not mad at you," Freya's voice turned wistful. "I was cursed, condemned to turn every night into a bloodthirsty beast for the rest of my life. I found peace in death."
His trousers were soaked now and he was getting cold. Arthur shivered and straightened his back – the sight of Merlin casting a spell to prevent him from finishing off the beast was carved into his mind.
"Why did Merlin protect you?"
Freya's eyes softened.
"Merlin freed me from my cage when Halig brought me to Camelot to hand me over to Uther Pendragon. Look…"
Again, she reached out with her hand so pale it seemed to be glowing in the eternal night, and grazed his cheek – icy water oozing from her liquid fingers started to stream down his neck, soaking his t-shirt.
Why did you do that? he asked with Freya's small voice.
Merlin was standing in front of him, looking hesitant. A flaming torch was casting moving shadows on his face and Camelot's underground tunnels.
What? Merlin said in confusion.
Help me.
Shivering in his dress ripped to shreds, Arthur was eyeing the sorcerer with suspicion. After a whole life of being rejected and treated like a beast, he couldn't understand why anyone would even want to help him.
Well I saw you, and… Merlin hesitated, arching his eyebrows with sad resignation. It could've been me, in that cage.
Memories followed one after the other with a sudden rush of sensations and emotions, getting faster and faster. Arthur saw Merlin come back to bring him food and imply he stole the prince's breakfast. He saw him smile shyly, talking about magic and gift. Merlin's warm hands wrapped around his as he whispered promises. Merlin bowing and giving him a rose, eyes sparkling with glee.
I like you, Merlin admitted with a sunny smile. With you, I can just be who I am. We don't have to hide anything.
Hands entwined. Heart beating. A kiss tasting like tears shared by torch light.
Arthur tore himself from Freya's torrent of memories, breathing heavily. He had to take a moment to remember who and where he was as he gazed into the eyes of the Lady of the Lake. She slowly took her hand off Arthur's wet cheek.
"Merlin wanted us to leave Camelot and go live somewhere together. That was a foolish dream, I knew I could only bring him exile and terror. But for the first time since my family died, someone was actually trying to protect me even though I was cursed. After all the suffering I had endured, Merlin allowed me to feel hope, even if just for a short moment. For this, I will forever be grateful to him."
Arthur was listening in a daze, raising a hand to graze his lips with his fingertips. The warm and soft feeling of Merlin's lips against his own was starting to fade away like a forgotten dream, leaving him stunned.
It hurt to know that Merlin whose loyalty he had never doubted, had considered once leaving him to run off with some girl he only just met. He took a deep breath and tried to forget Merlin's bright smile and soft lips. Now was not the time to ponder over his confused feelings he had always ignored and repressed since the very first day he met Merlin. He hadn't come here for this.
Trying to appear composed, he stood up to look down at the Lady of the Lake who was sinking back into the water until she was only a reflection on its surface again.
"I came here to seek your advice, Aithusa believes only you can help us. Merlin is possessed by a sorcerer named Cornelius Sigan who's been absorbing magic from the Crystal Cave for centuries."
Freya's rippling reflection widened her eyes.
"I knew Albion's magic was in danger when it brought you back to life, but I had no idea Sigan was the cause. This is even worse than I feared. If Cornelius Sigan took control of Merlin, we are doomed. All magic will be corrupted."
"Is there any way to stop Sigan without harming Merlin?"
The girl's eyes darkened.
"I'm afraid there is not. His power is so great now nothing can counter it. The only way to kill Sigan would be to slay him with Excalibur. But Merlin is not only a sorcerer. He is born from the ancient magic of magical beings that had been exterminated during the Great Purge. He is Albion's magic incarnate. To kill him would rip off the last roots of the Old Religion, which means all magic would just disappear from this world."
And so vanished Arthur's last hope. His shoulders sagged and he swallowed through the lump growing in his throat. He sucked in a shaky breath and blinked back tears as fear took over him.
What should he do now? Resign himself to either watching his dearest friend destroy the world, or slaying him with his sword, killing both him and Albion's magic?
"I don't know what to do any more…" his voice broke. "Sigan could be anywhere. I don't even know if Merlin's still alive. I made him a promise, but…"
He closed his eyes. He had lost Merlin forever, there was no going back.
"Arthur…"
Freya's sad voice was blown away by the wind.