Readers - I love you. That is all. Also, never ever let me start another chapter fic again, kay? Like, if I post a first chapter of something that looks like it's supposed to continue, yell at me at length. Tell me to go away. Remind me that I'm terrible at finishing things no matter how good an idea they seem to me at the time, kay? Thanks. And with that... the hopefully penultimate chapter.
Chapter Twelve: Someone Gone
It was fundamentally weird to be setting up a circle of magic runes on Arthur Pendragon's floor, close to the place where Arthur Pendragon slept. Merlin's hands impressed him by staying still; he couldn't afford to shake for fear of an error in his artwork. He had exactly one chance to get this right.
Every time he heard footsteps outside the door, his heart leaped painfully to his throat. Arthur needed to be here, but not yet, which was why Merlin had timed this toward the end of training. He also had to trust that no one else would barge into the prince's room when everyone knew he wouldn't be there.
The circle was a triple-layered embroidery. The outside ring consisted of simple, thin lines that twisted likes snakes and entwined smoothly with one another. The middle layer comprised the actual runes, runes older than the magical language Merlin used for his spells, runes whose meaning was so dark it made him shudder. The innermost layer, the one he detailed now, was an elaborate series of decorative symbols that were not themselves magical but were nonetheless required for the spell to work.
It was these symbols that caused him the trouble. Merlin sat back on his haunches, comparing his own drawing to that of the book in his hand. There was one section that he'd smudged a little with his hand, but it would have to do. He'd spent too much time on the long, sweeping strokes of the outside layer, and now he had to hurry.
"Scæne þes woruldríce," said Merlin, one hand holding the book open, the other hovering over the circle, "scæne to sé swelgh." The black symbols flared briefly, searingly gold, and Merlin squinted until it faded. The magic had worked.
Now came the part he was really not looking forward to. Well, one of them. However, he had to wait for Arthur on that account, so for now he could—
"Merlin?"
Merlin closed his eyes and counted softly to five. This was not part of the plan.
However hard he wished for her to turn around and leave him be, Gwen still remained standing, mouth open, in the doorway. How had he not heard the door open? This was not part of the plan.
Gwen's eyes—brown and confused and betrayed—had of course found the now-that-he-thought-about-it sinister-looking symbols he'd drawn on the floor. "What is that?" she demanded, striding forth for a closer look that Merlin really didn't want her to get. "Merlin, what are you doing?"
Merlin wasn't an idiot. He knew how this must look. There were very few positive reasons a sorcerer might be performing serious spellwork on the prince of Camelot's bedroom floor.
"Gwen, I can ex—"
"You said you wouldn't hurt him." Merlin winced at the accusation in her words - in every part of her. This was a thousand times worse than when he'd been outed as a warlock. "I believed you. You're exactly like Morgana, aren't you?"
"Gwen, no—"
Her eyes watered. She looked ready to run. To flee or to find Arthur, Merlin wasn't sure which. When she did turn as though to bolt, Merlin dropped the book, caught her wrist, and spun her around to face him. Her terrified, tearful face cut him like a dagger. He moved his hands to her shoulders, feeling how she trembled beneath them.
"Please," she whispered, "please, don't hurt him. Please, let me go."
On pure faith, Merlin did, raising his hands in surrender. "Gwen," he said gently, "I promise you this isn't how it looks. It's—Arthur's life is in danger, all right? I'm not trying to kill him, I'm trying to save him. I swear it on my mother's life."
Gwen took several deep breaths, in and out, slow and purposeful, until she calmed down. "Okay," she said in a small voice. "I believe you. I mean, I'd like to believe you. But your eyes were so like..."
"Like hers," Merlin finished. "I know. I understand why it's hard. I can't blame you for not trusting you, but you're going to have to try."
It occurred to Merlin that this was the last time he would speak to Gwen. Her last memory would be of the time she thought she'd caught him in act of murder. He'd kept his goodbyes to Gaius as light and brief as possible, but he couldn't quell the emotion he felt knowing he couldn't really say it to the rest of his friends. He couldn't bring himself to tell them what he meant to do. Gaius would explain when he was gone.
Unable to bear the thought that only his death would restore Gwen's faith in him, Merlin pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, burying his face in her hair. She emitted a muffled squeak before awkwardly hugging him in return.
"Merlin," she said into his shoulder. "What exactly is this for?"
Merlin pulled away quickly and cleared his throat, hoping his voice would sound normal. "Sorry," he said. "It's just, you know, a thank you. You wer the first friend I had in Camelot, and you've always been there when I needed someone. So... thanks."
She smiled uncertainly. "Of course. You... You've been my best friend for years. I'm sorry I..." Her smile faltered.
"No, no!" Merlin said quickly. "I'm glad, really. Arthur needs someone who won't trust others with the blind spots he has. It's not wrong to question your friends if there's something worth questioning." He really hoped she was done questioning, though, because Arthur would be here any minute.
Gwen bit her lip. "If it's all right then... could I stay? To see the spell work? I've never seen good magic."
Underneath her words, Merlin heard the desire to make absolute sure he wasn't lying. He sighed inwardly. At least Arthur would have someone to watch his back when Merlin was...
He knew how to get rid of her, though he hated to do it. He hardly wanted his last interaction with his friend to involve deception, but he couldn't let her stay. He couldn't let her see.
"Of course," he said. "Actually, Gwen, could you do me a favor? I forgot the other book I needed for this part of the spell. Could you get it for me? Gaius knows which one it is."
She hesitated, but not as long as he had. "I'll be back, then," she said, and left. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief.
Arthur arrived not a minute later.
The prince's tunic clung to him in various places, stuck on with sweat. It was wrinkled, to, from a combination of the dampness and his chain mail. "There you are," he said crossly, beginning to undo his belt to relieve himself of the uncomfortable clothes. "Where the hell were you? George had to help me out of my armor, and I've said it before, but it needs saying again; that man is—"
Inevitably, even the famously oblivious Arthur Pendragon had to notice what was in plain sight.
"Merlin," he said, his tone completely transformed. "What. Is. That?"
Merlin wondered if Arthur had even come to the conclusion yet that Merlin was the one who did this. If not, then it wouldn't be much longer.
"I wish there was time to explain," he said heavily. "But there isn't. And I am so, so sorry." In all his years of working for the prince, he'd never once apologized to him. He'd never thought he would. Apparently, everything had its time.
With a sideways glance, the door shut itself. He heard the lock click. Arthur's eyes widened, and Merlin knew that he'd seen the gold, knew exactly what Merlin had just done, and now feared very much what was coming next. Typically, locking someone in a room didn't bode well for the person locked up. However, Merlin was less concerned with trapping Arthur in than with keeping others out.
Turning his back on Arthur—even as the prince drew his sword and started furiously spouting things along the lines of What have you done with Merlin? and Give me one reason I shouldn't run you through! - Merlin raised his hand to the circle and recited the spell Morgause had used: "Forpousendan to sé swelgh."
The dormant runes came to life as through struck by lightning. The Rift ripped wide open, so wide it was visible, or maybe that was only because Merlin meant to pass through it. It was like a curtain was pulled aside on a window, and through it he could see the storm raging beyond, a storm that was the only source of life in a world of vast, dead nothing.
Or, maybe not quite the only source. Scuttling around, half-visible, were blurs of red fur and evil eyes, an insect neither of nature or of magic, simply existing in the Rift. Merlin shuddered. Perhaps it had been an omen that one had fallen on his head.
"What...?"
Merlin tore his eyes away to look at Arthur. The prince was no longer ready to behead him in anger. Instead he was mesmerized, staring unabashedly at the sudden confined maelstrom. It wasn't horror in his expression; it was awe.
That was until it began to reach for him.
It wasn't a visible force. There weren't any sudden tendrils of lightning that stretched to meet him, nothing like that. However, it didn't need to be visible. Arthur had gone from stock-still to inching slowly forward, his boots dragging, as though he were being pulled. From the way his head dropped to look incredulously downward, and the way he looked to try and fight it, that was in fact the case. "What are you doing?" he shouted, trying to plant his feet, but the force was growing stronger.
Merlin panicked. "That's not supposed to happen!"
It was drawing him in, pulling at the thing it wanted. It didn't want to risk losing its prey. Well, Merlin would give it to them. Now was the time to trade his place in his destiny for Arthur's.
It had been Gaius's idea. Rather than letting his magic pour into the world—running the risk of pouring it straight into the void, where it would be no use to anyone anymore—someone had to take it. That was the purpose of this dark spell, anyway. Most sorcerers used it to steal magic. This one would use it to give it away.
And who better to give it to than the one who would benefit most? Now Arthur could be both parts of his destiny, if Gaius could teach him to use it.
Arthur really, really wasn't going to like it, though.
"Ongirwan fram mec mín drýlác," he began shakily, using the revised version of the spell he and Gaius and created. "Ic éadan mín drýlác to Arthur Pendragon."
It was as though claws were sinking into all parts of him, ripping at something that wasn't physical but could still be felt. It was agony, and he doubled over, clutching his knees and gritting his teeth against the pain. His eyes slid shut, and he heard grunts and whimpers that may or may not have come from him.
When it faded enough that he felt okay picking his head up, he dared to look at Arthur, who was no longer being dragged, but was instead examining his hands with a bemused, slightly panicked expression. Merlin couldn't blame him; they were glowing.
"I'm sorry," he said again, because he was. He was sorry that Arthur was going to have to either hide his magic from his father or try to explain it to him. He was sorry that he hadn't gotten to say goodbye to any of the knights. He was sorry that there wasn't time to explain how sorry he was.
He was sorry he was leaving.
The Rift was dragging him now. He stumbled forward under its pull, but he didn't try to resist it. There was a pounding on the door, and Gwen's voice screaming something through it, but he couldn't pick out any words.
He wished he couldn't hear Arthur.
"Will you stop apologizing and start saying something?" he demanded, voice quicker and higher than normal. "Why am I—what are you—Merlin—"
With a heavy sigh, Merlin looked at him one last time. "Just don't be a prat," he said, hoping that four years of memories and hope could somehow be conveyed through five one-syllable words. The sudden comprehension on Arthur's face said they might have done just that.
"Merlin," he said, "don't—"
That was the last thing Merlin heard before he stepped into the circle and the world dissolved around him.
Sorry.
