Okay, first things first, FLAILING HOLLA HUG to Stormaggedon (¬_¬), and I sincerely hope you will review nicely, and not just make underhand comments on how superfluous I am! *sob*
Second, everyone who has reviewed, favourited or followed, (minus Stormaggedon, who is, in my opinion, a plumcake) YOU ARE AMAZING, REVIEW SOME MORE. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I THINK I have included everyone's ideas but one, and that I am going to do later in the story…
Thirdly, I don't mind if you criticise me either, so long as you do it nicely – only Stormy gets told off for that (Stormageddon is my Beta).
And finally, I NOTICED A PLOT HOLE! In the last one, I said they could hear battle cries in the distance, which is impossible because no-one can speak, SO, for the sake of argument, the spell doesn't affect the Saxons.
IT'S THE BEGINNING OF THE REVEAL! (please forgive me for the last line, it was too good to miss)
Here we go!
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Chapter 11: Fallen
Mordred didn't need to look where he was going as he made his way through the castle; he knew it all like the back of his hand. He may not have lived in Camelot for as long as some others, but he, like all the knights, had made it his business to know every passage, every corridor; it could make all the difference when stopping an attack on Camelot.
Or starting one.
The trio of sorcerers didn't meet many on their journey; most of the guards and soldiers were on the outskirts of the city, defending it from Aithusa and the Saxon army that was bearing down on Camelot. Even when they did meet someone, it took only a short, sharp burst of magic to dispose of them. It might have been a problem if any large numbers had materialised, but they couldn't even call out as Mordred and his companions had passed. The warning bell was already ringing; no-one would know they were there until it was too late.
The three sorcerers clung to shadows as they crept towards a door at the end of the corridor – a lesser used entrance into the throne room.
Cautiously, Mordred pressed his hand against the wood, and pushed, tensing as it creaked on its hinges.
But there was only silence and echoes on the other side.
Their footsteps reverberated around the vast room as they walked in, Mordred with excitement, his two companions with trepidation upon sight of the imposing room. The room was, for the most part, dark, the torches on the wall being unlit, but light was streaming through the dozen odd stained glass windows opposite them, some of it the silver of moonlight, much of it the orange and red of fiercely burning fires.
"Geswælan"
The torches flickered to life around the room, making the statues leer at Mordred in the dancing light cast by their flames as he walked to the thrones at the top of the room. The two others remained in the centre of the hall, staring around them with fear carefully masked as disdain.
Movements slow and careful, Mordred took hold of the pendent beneath his armour – a simple wooden circle with runes carved into it at its edge – and gently lifted the cord it was attached to over his head, placing it on the floor at his feet. He stepped back quickly.
"Cíegan, wegfór, forþcuman" A raised arm, a flash of gold.
The runes around the edge glowed, as if hot, and smoke started to rise from its centre. At first it was just a thin stream, but soon it grew thicker, until a pillar of black smoke was rising into the air in front of him, and Mordred's ears were ringing.
After a few second the ringing faded, the black smog beginning to dissipate, leaving in its stead the figures of Morgana Pendragon, and, looking bone tired and like he was having difficulty standing, Merlin.
Then Merlin clapped eyes on Mordred. His shoulders lowered, his chin dipped, and his lip curled in a look filled with pure hatred. Mordred had committed the ultimate crime, next to killing Arthur.
He had stolen Merlin's magic. Taken it, and used it for himself. There was no going back for Mordred, or the others.
But before Merlin could speak a word, the sound of footsteps came from outside.
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Gwen and Gaius walked speedily behind the guard, casting concerned looks at one another as he led them towards the throne room. Gwen was no longer wearing her dress – It just wasn't practical for fighting in, and fight she would; Camelot was as much her city as Arthur's.
Though it had been difficult to know what the guard had been trying to tell them, it didn't take them long to work out that he had seen three people creeping into the great hall. Gwen had never been one to sit back and let Arthur do everything for her, and had insisted on going herself, Gaius in tow.
They came to the doors and pushed them open. The room was empty, but the torches were lit and burning.
Gaius' eyebrows raised, and Gwen looked at him anxiously, but they continued on into the hall, this time with the guard behind them.
"Stay where you are, or Merlin dies!"
They both jumped and spun around at the sound of the voice; it had been a while since they had heard anyone speak at all.
Between them and the door stood Morgana, smile playing across her face, Mordred by her side and a very haggard looking Merlin, kneeling on the ground and grasping at Mordred's arm under his chin, which was forcing his head up, whilst a sword was pressed firmly against the exposed skin at his neck.
The guard, still at the door, bolted.
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Arthur tightened his grip on the hilt of Excalibur, his palms sweaty, as he digested the scene before him.
First, Gwen. She was being gripped across the shoulders by a man, the flat of his knife under her chin, and a defiant look on her features. A second man had Gaius backed against a pillar with his blade pointed at the rather disgruntled-looking old man's chest.
Second, Morgana. She sat on his throne, a smug look plastered across her face, and, Arthur noted with resignation, Mordred standing by her and glaring at him.
Then, at last, the young King's eye came to rest on the figure splayed on the floor, face down, not moving. Relief flooded through him as he detected a slight rise and fall of his servant's chest. Alive, at least he thought.
Behind him, he heard something akin to a growl come from Gwaine, but otherwise, his knights were completely silent, glancing at him as their leader, though Lancelot was more interested in staring between Merlin and Morgana.
"Nice of you to join us, brother!" Morgana's voice sliced the air.
Arthur remained silent, though not through his own choice, and resisted the urge to at least try and say the blindingly obvious and completely ineffectual "Let them go" that usually sprung to mind on these occasions.
"Put down your swords," she drawled. They didn't move. "now."
For the second time in two days, Arthur and his knights leant down and placed their blades on the floor, Arthur with his blue-eyed gaze never leaving Morgana's cold, grey one.
The weapons, once on the ground, began to move. No force moved them, but the six swords ended their journey near enough to Mordred's feet to be suggestive.
"Order a surrender, Arthur."
This time, he doubted he would have said anything even if he could. Gwen shook her head at him.
"There is a guard behind you, all you need to do is give him a nod, and he will go and order the knights to stop fighting on your behalf, he will tell them that Camelot has fallen to me." A quick glance confirmed what she said; the guard they had met earlier was indeed standing in the doorway, as paralyzed as they were.
It took only the small gasp that escaped Gwen's lips as Morgana's man pressed his knife closer against her throat to have Arthur nodding quickly at the guard, who ran off, only too eager to be gone. He knew what he was supposed to have done, he knew what his father would have done, but he also knew that there was no way he could have watched her die like that. Restless spirit or not, Uther would have killed him for this, if nothing else.
When the guard had gone, and the doors swung shut behind him, Morgana muttered some low, unintelligible words, before turning to whisper something to Mordred, and Arthur felt ropes, held by invisible fingers, drawing back his arms and fastening them there. From the grunts behind him, the knights appeared to be receiving the same treatment, and when Arthur felt a force against his legs, making them buckle, neither he nor his knights fought it as they found themselves kneeling on the floor. His jaw clenched.
Merlin never stirred. Typical of the idiot, Arthur thought, lying down, doing nothing, as per usual.
Soon, however, signs of activity came from outside the room, and a few Saxons, along with several others, bedecked in black, walked in.
A silence so oppressive that it hurt his ears followed as this black clad group walked past, and Arthur knew that, along with Mordred and perhaps the two others, these were the source of the enchantment that had taken away their voices.
Morgana's grin, if anything, got even wider. "My friends! You're just in time!" she cried, before looking at Arthur once more "I told them they could be here when I took the throne from you, formally. Bring Geoffrey of Monmouth, and make sure he has the crown!" Some of the Saxons departed in search of him, whilst two more gripped him under the arms and pulled him forward, struggling furiously, until he knelt on the steps in front of Morgana, as his father had all those years ago.
Arthur took the chance, while they waited for the Saxons to return with Geoffrey, to take a peek at Merlin, who was sprawled nearby. The anger that had been simmering since he first walked into that throne room almost reached boiling point; they had collared him and chained him like he was some kind of animal. There was an ugly gash on one side of his head, presumably from the club that had knocked him out, and Arthur could still see blood matted into his hair and crusting around his ear. Other than that, he didn't appear to have any physical injuries, but he was curled in on himself, his only movements being the odd twitch of his finger or his eyelid, like he was trying to wake up. Strange though it seemed to him now, Arthur had rarely ever seen him look so…helpless.
Morgana had noticed him looking at Merlin. "It's a magically-induced sleep. He won't wake up until I let him."
Working hard not to let his fury get the better of him, Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow, its message clear. Why?
The Saxons chose that exact moment to arrive back, a terrified Geoffrey of Monmouth clutched between them and Arthur's crown grasped in his shaking hands.
Morgana's answer was short and to the point, but no less puzzling for it. "For protection."
Geoffrey's hands were now extended over Morgana's head, a sword between his shoulder blades and Mordred's hand on his arm, presumably allowing him to talk.
"I–" he stammered, before throwing a glance at Arthur. Arthur nodded slightly, face tense. "I d-dub thee, Morgana Pendragon, Queen of Camelot."
Arthur watched, glowering, as the crown was lowered onto Morgana's mass of black hair, until he felt a hand on his neck, pushing his head and upper body down.
"Bow to your Queen!" growled a voice in his ear.
It was only when he felt the blade of a knife press into his ribs that he complied.
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Merlin could see nothing but darkness, endless darkness, extending into the distance indefinitely, and felt Morgana's magic keeping him there. He fought against her, but it was hard; there was no light, just the dark, no sensation, just the weight of black magic. Even sound was muffled, although somehow, he could hear some words seeping into his consciousness…
…Morgana Pendragon, Queen of Camelot.
Sharp, bright, ice-cold desperation filled his heart, and Merlin railed against her even more.
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The jubilant cry of "Long live the Queen!" was cut short as strangulated gasps escaped from seventeen mouths.
"Morgana…" Mordred huffed, eyes wide "He, he's taking it back."
Morgana didn't at first answer him. She was gripping the arms of the throne, her eyes closed and her forehead creased. "It's alright; I can keep him under." Her eyes opened, the last of the gold vanishing, and she looked at Mordred "The magic has served its purpose – you can let it go now"
"But…the bind. Will it still work when he has…all of it?" No, Arthur wasn't imagining it – Mordred sounded scared.
Morgana took his hand to reassure him. "The bind doesn't work like that, he cannot break free of it – We're perfectly safe from his magic." Arthur's heart panged at the sight of her being so tender with him – how many years had it been since he last heard her talk like that?
With a terse look around the room at the sixteen others, all of whom were looking absolutely terrified, Mordred relaxed, the others following suit.
The effect was instantaneous.
It felt like a terrible weight had been lifted from him, though Arthur's shoulders were still being forced down in a bow. The horrible burning in his throat vanished, and he sucked in air, grateful for the first pain free breath he had taken in some time. Somewhere behind him, Gwen, Gaius and the knights were experiencing similar things, and even Merlin seemed to be reacting to the release of the spell; though he remained asleep, he bucked, head tipping back and fingers clenching, before slumping once more.
"S-see?" Morgana said, a little shakily, Arthur noted. "Perfectly fine!" She stood, and waving a hand at the Saxons, shouted "Take them all to the cells!"
Arthur frowned in surprise as he felt hands hoist him to his feet and spin him round, before pulling him over to the other knights, who looked just as bewildered as he was. They'd expected her to do something to them, or to Arthur at least. Gwen, too, looked puzzled, but Gaius' face was filled with desperation.
That was when Arthur noticed; no-one was bringing Merlin over.
He struggled free of the hands that held him. "Is that it, Morgana? You take the crown, and then send us to our rooms like naughty children?"
Morgana, who had been talking with a Saxon, turned to face him. "For now, brother. I have some old scores to settle." Her voice was calm and placid.
"With who?" A little of Arthur's arrogance slipped through. "If there was anyone you wanted to torment, I'd have thought it was me"
Morgana's evil smirks got more sinister every time she did them, but this one was a slow one. It slid across her features like a snake, and she cast an excited glance in Mordred's direction.
"Arthur, just leave it" To their surprise, it was Lancelot who spoke. He was staring at Arthur, face grim.
Arthur's attention snapped back to Morgana as she spoke. "There is a warlock. A very powerful warlock, who spends his life trying to destroy mine. He holds such power that he could raze Camelot to the ground without a moment's thought." she walked over to Arthur slowly. "There are those who even say he is to be my doom."
Arthur spotted a way to turn this to his advantage. "Then…perhaps we have a common enemy. I do not hate you, Morgana. I have never hated you. If we could join forces, then perhaps we could, together, bring this sorcerer down. Rid the world of his power."
You could have cut the silence that fell with a knife. Puzzled, Arthur frowned and looked at the inhabitants of the room; those on Morgana's side were ogling at him, completely taken aback at his words. Those on his side were mostly looking as confused as he was, but, of course, there were two exceptions.
Gaius and Lancelot were staring at him, their faces the epitome of abject dismay.
"Hmm…" Morgana said, though she looked and sounded gleeful. "You know, I might have to take you up on that offer, just to see the look on his face!" She glanced at the sorcerers behind her. "I bet you never thought you'd see the day when Arthur Pendragon offered to help me bring down Emrys?"
"Emrys?" Arthur paled.
Mordred raised an eyebrow. "You know that name?"
Arthur gave a terse nod. "I've heard it."
The Druid glanced over at Morgana, but continued to address the fair-haired king. "Do you know anything about him?"
"A little. I know that he is your enemy. And…" he swallowed, shame tingeing his next words. "and that he is a friend to Camelot."
Morgana gave out a high, freakish laugh. "Well that's the understatement of the year!"
Arthur was really getting tired of Morgana's smirks now; her face seemed to be set permanently in a sinister grin. But as she walked closer and closer to him, the lurid smile faded, the lines around her eyes hardening.
Arthur couldn't help it – he stepped back, but not in time to dodge the hand that went whistling towards his face. His head snapped to the side, and to make matters worse, the guards grabbed him once more to stop him trying to move.
Morgana's whole being was seething. "Emrys may be my enemy, but even I won't tell him what you just said – I think it might just break his heart, after everything he had done for you, everything he has suffered for you," she looked at him with disgust, "and everything you have done to him. He betrayed his own kind for you, killed for you, watched his loved ones die for you, and his loyalty never wavered. Even he doesn't deserve to hear you say you want to kill him."
"I don't even know who he is!" Arthur cried.
"No, you don't," Morgana drawled, "but Gaius does. And from the look on his face, I would hazard a guess that Lancelot does too. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised – I've always wondered how you killed that griffin, when only a weapon imbued with magic can pierce its hide."
Arthur, the knights and Gwen all stared at Gaius and Lancelot, Arthur in resignation – well it would be those two, wouldn't it. he thought – and the rest in shock.
"Well, why did you think I kidnapped Gaius?" Morgana said in disbelief.
Arthur was seeing the physician in an entirely new light. "He told us you wanted information that would help bring down the kingdom"
Gaius locked eyes with Arthur. "What I told you was the truth. But I said more to you than that. I beg of you, Arthur, keep in mind what I told you then – I think the day I spoke of has come."
I'm not the only one seeking to protect you. There are many more. One day, you will understand just how much they've done for you.
Morgana snorted. "And I bet they think you didn't talk, either?"
Gaius glared at her. "Well, you didn't find out. Alator may not be my favourite person in the world–"
"He tortured you!"
"–but we are all indebted to him for his loyalty to Emrys."
Yet another cruel smile. "And unlike you, he took the secret to his grave."
Gaius, for a moment, looked almost ashamed. "Then he was a stronger man than I." He turned his death stare on Mordred. "And now, it seems, his sacrifice was in vain."
Mordred didn't react.
"I don't care that Gaius lied to me." They turned to Arthur in surprise. "Gaius was never afraid to keep secrets from me, or my father, but I know he always did it in our best interests. If Gaius believed I shouldn't know, then I shouldn't have known."
Arthur only glanced at Gaius' face after this speech, but in that glance he saw all he needed to see – Pride.
Morgana nodded, as if digesting this. "So, then…you don't want to know the identity of Emrys?"
Arthur frowned. "Identity? He's a sorcerer. I've never met him before. You've already told me – his name is Emrys."
"Emrys is the name given to him by the Druids" Mordred broke in. "They practically worship him for his power, but that is not the name he was born with. Those who know him call him by a different name, and yes," he gave a knowing smile. "you most definitely know him."
The entire room was motionless – the sorcerers were immobile, eyes flicking between each figure. Gaius and Lancelot were tensing every muscle of their bodies and the knights were looking generally confused. But of the people tied up in the centre of the room, there was one with an expression of complete and utter shock and incomprehension.
Gwen. She was staring, eyes wide, between Arthur and Merlin.
Arthur's mouth was dry, and he briefly wondered if the spell had started working again. "I would never hurt a friend of Camelot."
Another raised eyebrow was sent in his direction. "I presume you know you were conceived with magic, now?"
The young King nodded without hesitating. Over the years, he had come to terms with the fact that his father had lied to him. It was the sort of thing he'd do. When Merlin had convinced him that day, he'd never actually said anything that proved what Morgause said was incorrect, and it had seemed the only explanation of his father's actions. Merlin's words, instead of convincing him of Uther's innocence, had served more to mollify his anger.
"When you were born, Uther began a reign of terror that crippled families and destroyed cultures and dynasties that had existed for centuries" Morgana had come very close to Arthur. "Emrys' people were one such culture. Of that once mighty, noble race, only Emrys' father escaped. And even when he fled the kingdom, Uther still sought him, still hunted him." Mock sympathy twisted her face. "He never even knew he had a son. And poor, poor Emrys grew up without a father, with no way of understanding why he could do what he did, or how to control the magic he was born with. He was forced to spend his whole life disguising his true nature from everybody he knew, on pain of death, despite possessing a power that could have destroyed them all."
Arthur shook his head, ignoring Gwaine's wide-eyed gasp. "I still don't know who you're talking about!"
But Morgana continued, waving her arms and pacing. "And then, of course, the villagers started to get suspicious of his gifts!" she paused, casting a small smile in Arthur's direction. "His mother had no choice but to send him to Camelot." She tilted her head on the side.
Arthur froze.
"A young boy, who never knew his father, sent away from his home village by his worried mother."
"Why did you leave?"
"I just didn't fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere I did."
"A close friend to both Gaius and Lancelot, he has always been at your side, defending you and fighting for you."
"I'll be by your side, like I always am, protecting you."
"And never, ever, losing faith."
"I have faith in your destiny, Arthur. One day, you will be the greatest king Camelot has ever known."
"His name? – Merlin."
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My longest yet!
Like I said, the last line was necessary to my sanity.
I will try my absolute hardest to write the next bit soon, but if no-one reviews then…I might just have to give up.
REVIEW IT PLEASE!
