Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
Fresh blood seemed to soak through the sole of his boots as Leon treaded his way through the ocean of men. All around him sounded the battle cries and moans as the men clashed against each other. With accuracy and power he developed throughout his life of knighthood, Leon easily parried aside an incoming attack, targeted for his side, and stabbed his sword into the attacker's gut. He charged forward and used his momentum to slide the body off his blade so that he was freed to turn and meet his next foe.
Though he and many others were swift to cut down men in the opposing army, they still struggled to hold their own against the overwhelming odds. The chimeras, who had suffered some casualties from the dragons, made short work on them. With the difficulty it took to kill them, the chimeras held an advantage over mortal men. They slashed and bit into the men even as the blades managed to pierce through their hides. The snakes squirmed from their position and took every opportunity to strike out against soldiers who stood nearby; occasionally they landed their fangs into exposed flesh, pumping venom into their victim's bloodstream and killing them within minutes. It took the combined efforts of the Druids and dragons to keep them at bay.
The Druids shouted their spells, attacking the chimeras with everything they had, from fireballs and small whirlwinds to simple force and telekinesis. Still the felines rose up and continued their attack, only a few died and that was including the ones that the dragons killed in the initial attack. Above the clashing armies were the dragons as they flew across the sky; they dove and attacked the chimeras, bobbing in and out of the battle field as they picked up one of the monsters and dropped them screaming to the ground. Their claws and fangs tore into chimeras, sorcerers, and soldiers alike but refrained from using their flames; they did not want the uncontrolled inferno to accidentally kill their allies. Though they were in a sense limited in their attack to keep friends safe, Kilgharrah and Aithusa managed to hold back the brunt of the chimeras, barely.
Another attack descended on the knight and Leon lifted his blade once more into a parry. They must hold out as long as they could and though the struggle was difficult and the casualties would be great by the end of the day, Leon knew it would be worse if they lost. Their lost would leave the kingdom, and all of Albion, torn apart by the insane witch.
They must not lose.
Arthur hand shot out, snatched Iseldir around the arm, and pulled him into the shadows while Gwaine, who noticed the sound of the pounding footsteps, retreated as well. When the guards passed by, Iseldir gave a nod of thanks to the King and continued their trek. They had managed to find their way into the citadel and slowly made their ways through the halls, dodging the guards that ran by, panicked, as they scrambled to defend themselves. It appeared most of the inhabitants chose to remain in their rooms as well, perhaps with hopes to wait out the battle without being dragged in as well.
They finally approached the steps to the dungeons. The two warriors shared an understanding look and drew their blades, keeping it out before them as they began their descent into the dungeons. At the foot of the stairs, Arthur glanced around the corner, into the guardroom commonly used to keep watch over the dungeons, and motioned to his companions that there were two men present. Iseldir gave Arthur a nod and sidled around the King, careful not to make noise that may reveal their position to the guards. They were already on alert with an army at the doorsteps of the city, and whether they were Morgana's loyalists or Arthur's fear-driven men, they would rather not take the chance. The last thing they wanted was to inform Morgana of their presence within the citadel.
"Swefe nu," Iseldir whispered. The guards slumped against the table in which they sat in; their chainmail clinked when they landed. Arthur took the lead again, skirted past the sleeping guards, and went further into the dungeons. At first cells that lined the hall, the group paused, unsurprised at to what they found within each prison.
Inside, the cells were packed full of men, knights stripped of their weapons but still clad in their chainmail as if they were imprisoned moments before the attack. The sight of which gave Arthur a strange mixture of relief and pity. The King was glad to know that the men who had remained trapped within Camelot were not forced into the battle, but kept here away from the slaughter. Arthur knew he was already going to lose his people on the battlefield; at least they wouldn't be killing each other. Yet, he was saddened at the thought that his once great and mighty warriors were left to rot in the dungeons. The knights of Camelot were noted for many things and the last of which was to sit on the sidelines twiddling their thumbs while a battle was fought for their King.
The knights took notice of the group and several gasped as they recognized Arthur. They called out to their King in excitement, each one more than ready to fight. Iseldir once again stepped around Gwaine, past Arthur, and went to each cell with a hand held out. With several flashes of gold, the druid made his way to each cell door and unlocked them. Not accustomed to a friendly sorcerer and not expecting one to be with the King, let alone use sorcery at his orders, the knights gave wary looks to the druid as they exited their cells, many suspicious of the sorcerer.
"Sire," one of the men called to Arthur with a bow, but cast a suspicious look to Iseldir, "if I may be too bold to ask, what is going on?"
"Sir Caridoc," Arthur answered, "we are taking Camelot from Morgana."
"But sorcery? Why enlist the help from something that ultimately caused all this?"
"The druids came as allies, ready to combat against powers our blade cannot handle. They are our allies, along with the people of Nemeth and Essetir, and are to be respected as such. When I have reclaimed the throne, they will be the first I thank," answered Arthur with an undertone of reprimand. For the first time since Arthur's revelations on magic, the King saw the discrimination against magic from an observer viewpoint. Even when Iseldir had freed them, Arthur was shocked to see that mistrust colored the faces of the men rather than gratitude. He thought back to his own prejudice but immediately cast it from his mind. He did not have time to waste on the current opinions against socery.
"Yes, Sire," Sir Caridoc said with a sharp nod.
"Are you and the others battle ready?"
"Yes, Morgana had us quickly removed, without word on what was going on, into dungeons. I assume she does not trust us to fight against our King," Caridoc reported. "She took away our weapons but nothing more; I doubt she had time to worry about more than that with an army at her doorsteps."
"Alright, are there more people in the dungeons?" asked Arthur.
"Yes, people awaiting trial for treason and," Caridoc hesitated and glanced at Iseldir who chose to stand by Gwaine in the crowded hall, "sorcerers who refuse to swear an oath to Morgana."
"And Merlin?"
Caridoc hesitated again, "Your manservant?"
Arthur nodded
"He's further down the dungeon, Morgana kept him away from the others though it is not hard to imagine what she does to him down there," Caridoc shuddered. "I don't suggest you go, Sire."
"And why's that?" Arthur asked as dread filled him.
Caridoc gave him a sympathetic look, "Many of us knew what was being done to him but most weren't sure on the details. It was a day or two ago that Morgana stopped going down there; from what we heard, there was nothing Morgana could get from him. We assumed Merlin had been killed."
Arthur froze, unable to truly process this new information. Then he felt nauseous as he allowed grief to overwhelm him. The King stood there, before the worried glances of his knights, as he thought of his best friend. Gwaine let out a string of angry curses, though his anger was shallow and did nothing to hide the knight's own anguish over his best friend.
Then the king pulled himself together. He had to, for his kingdom and everyone who was relying on him in their endeavor and though all would be lost without Merlin, Arthur clung to a single word in his knight's response.
"Let us hope your assumption is false, Caridoc," Arthur said, "For now, you are to escort all the other prisoners out of here. Anyone who can and willing to fight I want out in the fields helping the others, even the sorcerers. You can form an attack force and take them from behind. Anyone else who wish to remain out of combat I want kept out of harm's way. I, Iseldir, and Sir Gwaine will continue and retrieve Merlin, whether he is dead or alive."
"Well that sounds good to me, come on Arthur," Gwaine said, his eyes full of steel and grief - the knight no longer cared for jokes, not when his closest friend could be dead- "let's go save a servant."
Morgana released her spell with the words of power, relishing in the magic that swept through her body and burned her eyes as another foe fell to the ground dead. Her magic was beautiful and powerful; it could bring down the strongest man with a casual wave of her hand. Her skill with the blade was not without its use for she twirled the steel that she held alongside her incantations and plunged it into her enemies. Yet she could feel fury as strong as the heat in the fireball she held in her hand, ready to launch at the next soldier who dared attack her; as she waded her way through the battlefield, she grew increasingly frustrated.
Every man she slaughtered, every person she cut down, brought her no closer to finding Arthur. Knowing her brother, Morgana believed the King at the front of his army, leading his men into a hopeless campaign with words of courage and hope. Instead, he presented her with fodder, none that neither gave her any satisfaction in victory nor led her any closer to it. Morgana had even seen a few knights the witch knew to be close to Arthur, specifically Leon, a distance away in the midst of battle but not a glimpse of the blond-haired King himself.
Where was he? He would not cower while his men fought. On the contrary, she knew him to be one that would be the first to attack.
The witch also felt her ire intensify when she spotted those of magic among the opposition. Druids fought for the man willingly, forgetting the persecution and pain that was brought upon them in the past, of the prosecution that still went on. How convenient that they forgotten their peaceful nature in light of helping Arthur. It was not only the presence of the druids that surprised the witch, but also the arrival of the dragons, both of which Morgana recognized. The supposedly killed Great Dragon was causing the most damage for he managed to kill a few of the chimeras edging the battle closer to a stalemate rather than the easy victory Morgana predicted. The two battled against each other, chimeras biting and digging their claws around the dragon's scales while the dragon batted them away with his own talons and tail.
Few chimeras were being killed, not enough that could ensure the enemy victory but enough to stave off the creatures from the more vulnerable soldiers. Though the Great Dragon took on the most chimeras, the smaller white dragon supported. It snapped at chimeras that attacked at the Great Dragon's blind spots but also diverted most of its attention on the chimeras that weren't attacking the flying beasts. The younger dragon used its size to weave through past the men, quick to attack the creatures before they could fight back. Those chimeras not targeted by the dragons were all too happy to disembowel the humans that scurried about, the snakeheads became more deadly as it soon recognized the weak points of chainmail.
Morgana could not understand these dragons. The Great Dragon was chained for twenty years, and here he was aiding the reason for the near extinction of dragons and their Dragonlords. She had heard of the dragon's rampage on Camelot that was only stopped when Arthur reportedly killed the dragon. Whatever had happened, Morgana had a hard time believe Arthur managed to sway the dragon to his side. The white dragon was another mystery. Aside from its origins, Morgana believed the dragon supported her cause. For wasn't it the white dragon that healed her when she had last failed in her conquest? Yet the dragon was clearly here, defending the wrong side. Perhaps the dragon had been raised such a way since when she had last met it, it was no taller than her knees. A young, impressionable dragon would be easy to raise and train.
Morgana shook the thoughts from her mind as she danced her way through the battle, a swirl of silver and gold, as she struck to and fro against those who dared stand in her way. Crimson accentuated her deadly steps and she increased the ferocity of her attacks. The viciousness of each thrust of her blade grew the more the pile of nameless soldiers grew in her wake, each not the King she was furiously searching for. Her magic continued to burn through her eyes and rush through her body as she directed the nearest chimeras to her bidding.
Eager to appease their mistress' commands, the felines slunk to her sides, teeth bared against the closest soldiers; the men stepped back, hesitant in approaching the witch and her creatures. Amongst them stood two druids, women garbed in studded leather and wielded a short sword in one hand. One had hair kept short while the other's wild tangles were kept in two braids. They were both dark in complexion and hair colored brown nearly black. Though they kept a stance that displaced both confidence and power, their eyes betrayed nervousness. With a nod to each other's direction in agreement, the two women stepped out, away from their allies, to confront Morgana, their swords kept at ready while the fingers in their opposite hand was kept splayed in preparation to use magic.
"Interesting how you all are willing to give your life for an absent King. Tell me, where is that dear brother of mine?" Morgana taunted with a sneer.
"Give up, witch," spat the longhaired woman, "the King and Emrys are already working on the destruction of your reign."
"Together, there is no stronger pair. They will bring about your downfall," supported the other with just as much venom.
"Arthur is nothing without his precious Emrys, a warlock that had shown neither hide nor tail since I claimed Camelot. You have been fighting a losing battle from the start," jeered Morgana. With a nod, the chimera sprang forward. They leapt at the druids, with claws extended and jaws open, ready and anxious for the metallic taste to coat their tongues. In response, the women were swift to erect a barrier around them; just in time for a second later, the two creatures slammed into the shield forcing the druids to grit their teeth against the force.
Morgana watched in amusement as the druids did battle with her chimeras, satisfied that the druids struggled to hold back the creatures. While they fought, the soldiers behind them were busied defending the two from the rest of their enemies, managing to allow the two women to concentrate on the chimeras rather than the common soldier. Though, the druids' ability to withstand the onslaught of the chimeras impressed Morgana, they were nowhere near as powerful as herself. They were not the most powerful she had ever met but Morgana acknowledged the great skill in which the duo wielded their magic. If the witch had found these women previously, she was confident that she would have coerced them onto her side.
Alas, there was no choice but to waste such talents, pity.
Morgana drew back her arm with a spell in mind and at ready upon her lips as she felt power draw into her again. Just as she had been about to unleash a fatal spell upon the druids, she stopped. She felt her arms drop while her stance remained frozen. The only movement she made was the smile that grew across her face.
The druidic women were no longer her priority; before they stood in the way of what she wanted, now not anymore. There was no need to keep fighting in the battlefield nor was there a need to search for Arthur for Morgana knew exactly where to find the man. He wasn't at the head of the battle or hidden away to let his men fight the battle for him.
It was as she was about to strike when she felt the chill that ran down her spine. A chill not of fear but of enchantment; the enchantment that locked the cells beneath Camelot had been open without her permission. There was no reason for anyone to be opening the cells in the dungeon, not when she ordered only those who would potentially betray her to be locked up. Her people knew better than to disobey a direct order, they knew the consequences.
It was Arthur. Arthur was in the heart of Camelot in what Morgana assumed to be in the process of freeing his men. He was probably even going to release Merlin, or at least what was left of the man.
With a smirk, Morgana turned away from the battle she had been watching and strode through the soldiers, killing only those who tried to stop her. She then paused, only for a short while, as she looked back to the chimeras still engaged in battle with the druidic women. Then she waved her hands towards the two chimeras and others nearby, delivering to each one her orders.
Her army could take care of this nuisance and the chimeras could take care of another annoyance. Morgana only wanted the grand prize that currently lurked within the depths of the castle.
The clamor of the wounded and dying barraged her ears as Gwen worked frantically in tending to the men brought from battle. Across the tent Gaius stood, shouting out orders as he stood over the more gravely injured while Hunith mutely grinded herbs and prepared more draughts, from painkillers to sedatives, by a tables at the edge of the tent. Gwen was familiar to this chaos after having dealt with previous attacks on Camelot, and allowed her to be pulled into calm state of mind she often retreated to when dealing with the injured.
That was until Percival, grim in face, brought Elyan in, supported over the giant's shoulders by his arm.
"Elyan!" Gwen gasped in fear and rushed to her brother side, eyes widening in horror at the stab wound on his side. Quickly, the young Queen examined the injury, assessing that though it did not hit any of the knight's vitals, the bleeding would have to be stopped and the wound cleaned and bound to protect it against infection.
"What happened," Gwen asked as she began to clean to wound, mindful not to cause any more pain than necessary.
"I was caught by surprise," Elyan panted, sweat glistening against his brow, "I should have been more attentive."
"He was handling too many at once," admonished Percival.
"There are many to fight," retorted Elyan with a grin.
Gwen rolled her eyes and allowed herself a small smile. If he could still joke then he was not in any mortal danger for now. She turned to Percival, "Thank you for bringing him in."
Percival bowed his head then left the tent to return to the battlefield. He had brought Elyan for treatment and no longer had a reason to stay in the healers' tents. He was more suited for combat, as gentle of a soul he was, than to the healing arts.
So into the fray he returned, ready to fight to the best of his abilities.
Aubrey cast his spells against the invaders. He struck down soldiers quickly with spells that merely incapacitated the enemy rather than kill. He had too much blood on his hand already; he did not want to add more, though he did not hesitate to kill if he must to protect himself. Another sleep spell and the sword that approached his heart fell from the soldiers hand as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground.
Aubrey hoped his effort were not in vain for it was not exactly safe for one to remain unconscious amidst the battlefield. However, the sorcerer could not do much but hope; at least they had more of a chance of survival. Aubrey stared around the battle, sadly watched as men and even the occasional women were killed as each side was motivated by different reasons; one of fear, the other loyalty.
Another sword slashed towards him forcing Aubrey to take a step back away from the danger and raise a sword of his own to block the swipe. Though he was not much of a sword fighter, Aubrey still managed to parry the blade; the force of the blow caused him to stumble back even more, nearly losing his balance. His opponent, a slightly taller man with lean muscles, drew his arm back again and thrust it forward, taking advantage to the opening in Aubrey's defense. Quick incantation halted the sword's progression and another spell tossed the man against the ground.
Aubrey winced at the force in which the man hit the ground but was grateful that it had knocked the man unconscious as well. It was when he looked up to look for the next fight that Aubrey spotted the chimeras at the edge of battle.
Aubrey had found himself facing off against the southernmost group, ordered by Morgana who entered the fray herself in order to find Arthur without delay. It was at the edge that a group of chimeras began to concentrate at, running from the general direction of the eastern group.
There stood seven of them, a big group for creatures that usually travel in pairs, not to mention most focused their attention against the dragons that still flew above them. The men they faced edged towards them nervously, unsure how they may take down an enemy that proved difficult to kill, one that not even dragons could fully handle. Then, in sync, four of the chimeras attacked, forcing the men back further in a whirlwind of claws and fangs. Aubrey watched in amazement as the three left sprinted forward around the men, the first four finished their targets before they continued to the other soldiers trying to prevent the three chimeras from breaking through.
Aubrey hesitated for only a second before he found himself chasing after the chimeras as well; he lagged behind for he was unable to keep up with the speed in which the creatures ran. That was when Aubrey realized how much the opposing side was pushed back the moment he was in the trees far sooner than expected.
"Hiera gangas ætíaþ,"Aubrey incanted, his eyes glowed gold. Beneath the chimeras, the ground gave a soft white glow, a glow that none but Aubrey could see that showed the direction in which the chimeras were going. Aubrey did not know why he was following these creatures, abandoning the fight. The sorcerer had always known himself to be a coward and if Morgana discovered later that Aubrey had left his post, he would most likely be killed. Either way, even as the chimeras sped through the trees, further away from Aubrey, the sorcerer would still be able to find them. He had a bad feeling as to why the chimeras chose to abandon the fight to go into the trees. Aubrey refused to allow another regret to add to his burden for regret he would have if he ignored his hunch that these particular chimeras were up to no good.
The sorcerer hoped he was wrong, for there would be little he could do to stop them.
"Here," Gwaine spoke, his voice lacked any mirth he had left. There was no room for jest, not now.
The group had made their way slowly through the dungeons, much more slowly than Arthur would have liked. Morgana had imprisoned dozens of people within the cells, though there were fewer the further they went in. They had released many knights, sorcerers, and civilians with the civilians scurrying for a hiding place while the knights and sorcerers, uneasily, pledged to enter the battle as reinforcements. It had taken them what precious little time they had to release everyone.
Now they stood before a heavyset wooden door, the door that led into the cell that had been Merlin's personal hell for the last four month. It would be the first time in those four months that Arthur had last seen his friend and he was still unsure on his stance in magic.
What would he say to his servant? Would he greet him with warmth or distrust? Did Merlin deserve such distrust after what he suffered? Arthur knew the servant deserved respect and gratitude for all the pain he had gone through, for allowing Arthur a chance, as small as it was, to stop Morgana. He had known the man for years, years of which Arthur believed to be genuine in his friendship, but Arthur still feared magic, still felt suspicious of it. How could he not be? He was raise to believe magic as evil, nothing else and though he was more lenient towards magic users than his father's rule, Arthur edged closer to against than for the practice.
Of course, the sorcery side of the problem was still his least worrisome thoughts. Before he would be consumed about the ethics and morality of magic and the laws against it for what else could he do after discovery his best friend was a sorcerer. One thing he had managed to push from his mind was the condition said friend was in. Morgana was brutal when she interrogated her prisoners, but when presented with one she had particular strong hatred against, Arthur could only imagine how she would act out with such intense emotions.
Four month was a long time to be in the witch's clutches. What Arthur had heard on the progress through the dungeons made him feel no better for the servant. Arthur knew he should focus on the consequences if Merlin was unable to help them, if Morgana had succeeded in killing the warlock in either mind or body, but he felt more fearful of losing his best friend. This close to Merlin, Arthur felt none of the betrayal and hurt he had felt in Nemeth. He had more than enough time for that if they survived. It was the surviving that mattered and it was the survival the Arthur was afraid his best friend had not done.
Could Arthur handle the death of his best friend? Arthur wasn't an idiot; he knew based on what he had heard, specifically recently, about his best friend showed him he owed the warlock for much more than he thought was possible. Though he did not know the full story behind his mysterious friend, Arthur knew that the chance he was willing to give the man would result in allowing the servant to stay. The King had already been forced to see the effects bigoted laws caused against the magical community and try as he might Arthur could no longer pretend to see monsters amongst the faces of men, women, and children who caused no harm.
Iseldir stepped up with hand extended to unlock the door, his face showed some exhaustion from his previous use of the spell. Arthur grabbed the man wrist, stopping the druid from performing the spell that would reveal what lay beyond the door.
"Sire?" Iseldir questioned, eyebrows raised.
"Arthur, let him go," glared Gwaine.
The King paid neither of them mind. He stared at the door, challenging it to reveal its secrets. Arthur was afraid, afraid of what he would find beyond this moment. This was the moment that decided their fate, whether they win or lose, live or die, yet Arthur cared little for that for the moment spelled out; an outcome far different than any outsider would believe worried the King.
When they open the door, when they see what was inside, it could change everything for Arthur. This was the moment that Arthur had feared since he had first discovered his friend had survived capture. This was the moment that could make or break the King.
Arthur could feel it.
The guilt.
The guilt that prowled in the corners of his mind, reminding him of his role in the servant's predicament; guilt that was kept at bay with thoughts of Merlin the liar and not Merlin the friend. Merlin the traitor who represented the evil of sorcery Uther had believed.
The traitor, the liar, the killer.
One not to be trusted, one not to be pitied. Arthur should not feel guilty for one so evil.
Yet here he was, ready to save the supposed monster his mind tried so hard to create out of the servant. A monster that ruled his nightmares.
A monster that, realistically, could not be his friend. The monster his friend never was.
This truth was what truly frightened the King. He had not only failed to protect the innocent, but he also failed to protect those closest to him.
He had failed the one friend he had, the friend who had changed him for the better over the years.
The one who protected his kingdom and family.
But mostly the one who became his true friend, a friend that saw Arthur not as royalty to be used to gain status but as a man of equal standing. A man who was forced for four months to suffer for the good of all.
Arthur released the druid's wrist and gave a nod, though his eyes remained stormy. The King would have to face this, face what he had done to his friend and whether they would be able to keep their friendship after all this was over.
Arthur knew that what he was about to witness would haunt him the rest of his life.
He would face it. He would take this first step towards his friend, towards his future, so that one day his kingdom and everyone inside would find peace.
He would ensure Merlin gained the peace he deserved.
"Tospringe."
AN: Yeah, you guys probably want to kill me now after a cliffhanger like that, dontcha? This, unlike the previous ones, was planned, so sorry for being evil! Now for the next update, it might take even longer than usual. I have finals coming up and I wanted to focus as much as I can for it, hence I updated within the week (also because I found a surprising amount of free time today ^^). You guys may have to wait as long as the beginning of May though I'll still try to update by April 24th. I updated my profile so that if you need an idea on when the next chapter is or whether or not I plan to update past the 24th, I will post it there.
Feel free to kill me for not only giving you a terrible cliffhanger but also making you wait a bit for the next chapter ^^"
As a few of you had probably noticed, the cover is now changed to an image more appropriate to the story. I essentially googled an image of the Pendragon crest then messed with photoshop for a few hours. Never used photoshop, so that was the best I could do xD Thank you everyone who offered a suggestion!
As always, all my thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorite/alerted so far!
Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcomed ^^ (especially now that the battle started and I kinda want to make sure no one is confused by what is going on! Also this chapter was edited late and I'm sleepy -.-)