A/N: Thank you all SO much for your lovely reviews! You are incredible! :) I am extremely excited about the next few chapters, especially this one – and hopefully you'll catch why as you read it! It's going to get exciting! Please continue to review and thank you once again for all your support and fantabulous (and yes, it's a word, my spell check says so!) reviews and for alerting/favoriting. :) This is my favorite chapter yet, LOL! Hopefully you'll enjoy it as well! We're going to get some POV from a character only mentioned first thing this chapter and this is going to be quite the ride… so Enjoy! :D
Ransoming Emrys
Chapter Twelve
He knew there was a problem long before he was in range of the battle.
He had had a feeling – a strong, urgent feeling – that something was very wrong for several days. Being the immensely powerful creature that he was, he knew that it wasn't just something to be pushed aside. Something was happening, something magical. There had only been a handful of times when his magic had reacted this dramatically to something that he, himself, even as a wise and seemingly all-knowing being, didn't understand. And nearly every one of those previous times had involved his dragon lord in some kind of danger.
The most recent time his magic had responded to his situation was when he was attacking Camelot. He supposed, in hindsight, that attacking the place and people he had told the young warlock to protect hadn't been the best idea. He hadn't cared at the time, though – all he cared about was getting revenge on the man, on the real monster, that had imprisoned him in a cave for twenty years, who had taken everything he had, betrayed his dragon lord and his kind… the man that had ensured that he was indeed the last of his kind – Uther Pendragon.
It was during one of his flyovers of Camelot that he had felt it – his magic had gone crazy, sending waves of warning throughout his massive, scaled body. This was a magic, a connection, that even he had no full understanding or control over. This was an ancient magic, a magic from before the dawn of time, that spawned the almost intimate mental connection with dragons and their lords. It had been that magic that had warned him of the dragon lord's peril.
And then it had gone. As swiftly as the feeling had come, it had disappeared, but not without shooting a wave of pure sorrow and pain through the dragon's heart. He had known, without a doubt, that Balinor was dead and a new dragon lord, his son – the young warlock, who Kilgharra had always known to have the potential to be a dragon lord – had been created. And so the bond between Merlin and the dragon, between Emrys and Kilgharra, had been made stronger. The same Magic that had existed between the dragon and Balinor for all those years of banishment and imprisonment was now thriving between Merlin and the dragon.
When the dragon had nearly been overwhelmed by this same feeling, this same warning, he had known without a doubt that something was wrong with the young warlock. He was in danger – perhaps not mortal danger, not yet – but in trouble all the same. Kilgharra had tried to call out to him, not unlike the way he had for the first two years the boy had been in Camelot.
Merlin… Merlin… Merlin…
Sometimes he would feel a little flicker in a small, obscure corner of his ancient mind – a desperate attempt by Merlin to connect with the dragon but he was unable to. And Kilgharra could find no way to form the connection between his and the young warlock's mind. Something powerful – and old, apparently, if it was strong enough to weaken the bond between dragon and dragon lord – was blocking his way, and the dragon had not been pleased about it.
He had taken to flying through the air, keen golden eyes searching for any sign of the young warlock, whom he knew was in danger. He had found none. And then, finally, just hours before, he had felt the call of the dragon lord, stronger than it had ever been, and he was compelled beyond all logic to follow it. He knew where his warlock was.
He had flown faster than he had in a long while toward a small druid encampment in the forests of Cenred's kingdom, Merlin's orders still in his mind. Do whatever you can, but DON'T hurt ANYONE innocent.
Obviously, the Once and Future King, along with his knights, were some of the people that Merlin didn't want hurt under any circumstances. This was the problem he realized as he grew closer to the clearing where the battle was going on, landing surprisingly quietly not too far away. He had seen the battle from above and knew that if he were to unleash his wrath on Cenred's army and the witch Morgause, that Prince Arthur and the others would almost certainly be killed because everyone was so mixed up in the fight.
He was all but helpless, restrained by Merlin's orders. Just as he tried to reach out with his mind to the warlock again, although the connection had once again been severed, the feeling that something was very, very wrong coursed through his magic and raced through his veins. He knew then that Merlin was dying – but as long as there was breath in his dragon lord's body, he couldn't go against his orders, which meant that he could do nothing.
It was all up to Merlin now and considering that the life was slowly but surely leaking out of him by the second, that might prove to be a bit of a problem.
The only thing he knew was pain.
It consumed him, maybe it even was him. He didn't know who he was, how he had gotten there, or why he hurt so, so badly. He was in a world suspended between life and death, a limbo of pain and torment. Maybe he was in hell? But no, that couldn't be right…
For one, he hoped that he had never done anything bad enough to warrant going there. And another thing… he could still hear… something.
He couldn't comprehend what was around him. He could hear a low hum in his ears and his head hurt… at least he thought it was his head but the pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he wasn't sure he could tell what was what anymore. He felt something warm and sticky sliding down the side of his face. His head was moving but he wasn't doing it – or was he? He couldn't tell.
He was barely aware of anything. He was on the line now, on the edge of the cliff, hovering precariously between dark and light, life and death. He knew he would not be here long. His life was slipping slowly away…
Merlin…
The voice was in his head; it was too loud… too loud.
He groaned, or tried to, but only a pathetic whimper made it past his lips. He could hear someone saying something, his head moving as whoever it was shifted their position under him. The hum became a roar in his ears and he thought his head was surely going to split open.
Merlin… You have to wake up… You have to end this…
Who was this Merlin the voice in his mind kept talking about and why didn't he look for him somewhere else? His gravelly voice was really loud and disrupting his rest… Disrupting Merlin's rest…
Oh. That's right. He was Merlin.
And then it all came back to him.
It a flood of memories that nearly made him get sick on whoever was holding him, he remembered everything. He remembered the hunting trip with Arthur going terribly wrong, getting kidnapped, drugged, tied up, and beaten… Taken to a place deep within the forest and kept in a hellish, tiny darkness for days… The fight… Morgause… Arthur and Gwaine… and was he dreaming, or had Lancelot been there too?
And… Arthur knew the truth, didn't he?
His mind positively reeling, head hurting more than he thought was possible, he rushed to a new level of awareness. The roar in his ears became the clash of swords, the yelling of men in battle, the squelch of blood and scream of metal against metal. He could hear voices yelling, the sound of magical energy shooting out from somewhere, and then a very familiar voice.
"We can't keep this up! They've got us outnumbered, Sire!"
Ah. So Lancelot was there, then.
And then – "We'll go down fighting!"
Arthur?
He heard a chilling voice, a feminine snarl that brought his nightmares alive. He felt himself began to tremble as Morgause spoke, pure power emanating from her words. "You are a fool, Arthur Pendragon. And now you will die."
"NOOO!"
He hadn't even realized the word came from his mouth until he was on his feet, eyes open and magic keeping him upright, power and adrenaline like he had never felt coursing through every fiber of his being.
He heard gasps and someone touched his shoulder but he shook it off, his eyes, blurred by the blood spilling over his eye and down his face, locked on the image of Arthur being held by seven of Cenred's men while the cowardly king himself stood off to the side, smirking. Morgause, brown eyes shining in triumph, held a sword over Arthur's head, smiling darkly. "This will break your father's spirit – and pave the way for a new ruler," she said ominously. Arthur looked confused but Merlin, even in his state of mind, knew that the witch was talking about her half-sister, Morgana.
"NO!" he yelled again, his voice rising as he watched the witch prepare to kill the prince, his best friend. "Leave him. Alone." His voice was filled with more raw, unbridled power, rage, and hatred than it had ever been before. His eyes were blazing, his heart palpitating erratically behind his rib cage. His pain was momentarily gone, his weakened and gravely injured body aided by his magic. But he didn't think of himself. He only thought of Arthur, of Gwaine, of Lancelot, Matthew, and… whoever that other man fighting with Lancelot was. Morgause was going to kill them, to kill them all, and Merlin couldn't let that happen.
He wouldn't let that happen. Not to his friends. The voice in his head had been right. He had to end this. Now.
Arthur was going to die. He knew it more positively than he had ever known anything.
He was being restrained by seven of Cenred's – or rather, he thought, Morgause's men, because it was obvious that the king thought he was the leader but it was painfully clear just who was really in charge here – men, forced to kneel on the ground. The fight was going on around him but he hardly paid it any mind. They were outnumbered, just as Lancelot had yelled out moments ago.
And then the fighting all but stopped. He glanced around, confused, until he saw that everyone had been subdued in one form or another. Lancelot was being held by five men, bleeding from a gash in his shoulder. The man that had accompanied him was lying on the ground, unmoving, blood trickling slowly from the back of his head. Arthur couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.
Gwaine didn't need to be restrained. Arthur felt his heart sink as he saw the normally stoic, happy-go-lucky man kneeling on the ground, bleeding from a wound in his arm. Merlin's head was in his lap and Gwaine was half holding his friend, slowly rocking him. Arthur didn't even think Gwaine was aware of the motion. He was too focused on Merlin.
Merlin, whose right side of the face was masked in blood. The wound above his right eye wasn't slowing in its blood loss, despite the now soaked neckerchief Gwaine had stripped from the man's neck and used to try and stem the flow. Merlin's face was as white as – if not whiter – than death, the bruises on his face in stark contrast with the ivory of his unmarked skin. His face was so pale and gaunt and there was just so much blood, spilling down his face, into his eye, dripping off the end of his nose and trickling into his mouth. And he wasn't moving.
A jolt of horror shoved its way through Arthur's heart. Merlin was already dead, wasn't he? No one could survive a hit to the head like that, and even if they could, there was no getting over that much blood loss. That must be why Gwaine was looking so broken, so defeated, as he slowly rocked the fragile, battered, bloody body of his friend back and forth, back and forth on the bloodstained ground.
And then Morgause was talking. "You are a fool, Arthur Pendragon." Arthur's eyes lifted and he met her brown ones, filled with evil and hatred and lust for power. Cenred was standing behind her, the snake, sneering like he had just single-handedly defeated the small group of his enemies. Arthur wanted nothing more than to spit in the man's smug face.
His eyes caught a glimmer of light and he looked up to see that Morgause had a sword held high in her hands. The deadly tip was hovering over his head as he renewed his struggles, snapped out of his grief-laden daze. Tears of futility and loss filled his eyes but he didn't let them spill over. It was like he had said to Lancelot. They would go down fighting.
For Camelot.
For Merlin.
The sword was glowing now, glittering sinisterly with Morgause's dark magic. This was it. He knew it. He was going to die, his friends were going to die, Merlin was going to die – if he hadn't already – and there was absolutely nothing the prince of Camelot could do about it.
For the first time in his life, Arthur Pendragon was completely and utterly helpless to save himself and those he cared about. He hadn't just failed Merlin, he thought bitterly as the sword was raised higher, ready to finish the job.
Morgause spoke again. "And now you will die."
"NOOO!" the agonized scream resounded through the clearing, into the trees, and through the very air. Arthur's head snapped around to face the source of the scream, as did everyone else's, and an innumerable amount of eyes widened at the sight of Merlin standing tall next to a bewildered but rather relieved looking Gwaine, his fists bunched at his sides and blood streaming in rivets down his face. The boy's right eye was completely obscured by the blood from the wound but his right eye – Arthur sucked in a breath at the sight – his right eye was blazing gold.
Merlin spoke, and when he did, a terrifying power resonated from his mouth. His voice was barely recognizable as that of the goofy, happy-go-lucky servant Arthur had come to know and trust. "NO!" the warlock all but shrieked. Arthur felt his knees weaken and he would have collapsed onto them if he hadn't been forced onto them already. So much power.
"Leave him," Merlin said sternly, a level of authority in his voice that not even Arthur had ever been able to muster, "alone."
There was no arguing with that tone but apparently Morgause didn't seem to get the warning – or she didn't care. Or maybe she even thought that she was strong enough, powerful enough to overcome the warlock before her – even though he was not only prophesied to be the greatest wizard of all time but had shown an incredible display of his powers earlier. It had only been Arthur and Gwaine's presence that had stopped him before. From the dark glint her brown eyes and the way she looked from Merlin to Arthur, it seemed that she was going to try this again.
"If you don't back down," Morgause warned, her voice portraying much more calmness than she probably felt, "I will have your prince and his little band of merry men slaughtered."
The hands on Arthur tightened but to the prince's surprise, Merlin only laughed – but this wasn't the amused, joking laugh of an embarrassed servant that just fell down a flight of stairs and dropped his master's dinner in the process. This was the angry, cold laugh of a man that has seen far too much and suffered far too much in too little time.
"I'd like to see you try," he all but challenged. "I'm warning you not to make me mad, Morgause. You will regret it. I can promise you that."
His visible eye flashed even brighter than it already was and suddenly there was a white light that shot from outstretched fingertips. Arthur gulped as he saw the magic heading straight for him.
When the light touched Arthur, though, he didn't feel scared anymore. Instead he felt warm, secure, and safe. He felt the hands holding him let go and he gasped as he realized that his hands were glowing. His hands were glowing!
In actuality, his whole body had been engulfed by the strange white light and what was more, so had Gwaine's, Lancelot's, the mystery man's, and even Matthew's still and bloody form. Arthur realized what Merlin had done. He had used his magic to put a shield over his friends. A wave of brother-like affection swept over Arthur then for the selfless young man standing across the clearing. Even on the verge of death, even when harnessing an unearthly power, Merlin was thinking of others first, the self-sacrificing idiot.
And then Merlin's hand raised again, his eyes flared a deep, rich gold. A bolt of lightning crackled from his open palm, shooting straight for Morgause, who redirected it with a flash of her own eyes and a few frantic words just in time. She stepped forward, blonde hair flowing behind her, eyes livid and wide. Cenred no longer looked smug but instead was trying to look brave while in actuality was hiding behind several of his knights who looked equally as terrified.
Everyone, friends and enemies alike, watched as Morgause conjured a great streak of flames that formed into the likeness of a great serpent and slithered through the air toward Merlin. Merlin didn't even lift a finger as his eyes flashed again and the fiery snake was consumed by a great wave of water that shimmered into existence out of thin air.
"I warned you, Morgause," Merlin said, venom lacing his voice as he addressed the woman that had hurt him and nearly killed all of his friends, "not to piss me off. Well guess what? You have done it now."
"I think she pissed him off," the shielded Gwaine stage-whispered in Arthur's general direction and despite the severity of the situation, the prince had to fight not to laugh. The look on Morgause's face was borderline terror. She seemed to just be grasping who she was dealing with. Gone was the weak, cowardly serving boy she had continued to see Merlin as even after learning his true identity. In his place was a beyond-powerful figure of legends.
"Emrys," she breathed, voice hitching and Arthur was quite pleased to hear the stark horror in her voice. "You really are him."
"Yeah," the bloodied, beaten, and thoroughly ticked off Merlin growled, golden eye showing no hint of humor. Arthur felt a chill of fear sweep through him although he knew that he had nothing to fear. Merlin had shielded his friends for a reason. They would make it out of this okay. Because Merlin was loyal. Arthur had no doubt about that – not anymore. "How about that?"
Morgause's left eye twitched and then she screamed, "Attack! Kill him! Kill them all!"
They charged for the warlock but not before he had screamed a jumbled mess of nonsense at the sky.
Arthur was confused as nothing happened and the army kept charging at Merlin.
That's when the dragon – the dragon that Arthur had killed, nonetheless, although it was painfully clear now that the prince hadn't actually killed the beast – swooped in from the heavens and soared to Merlin, landing behind the warlock. Morgause, along with the entire army, and even the Arthur and the allies that were conscious, took a step back at the sight of the massive scaled monster glaring murderously down on all of them.
"What?" Morgause almost whimpered, her bravado all but gone but fury still burning in her eyes. "But I, I don't—"
"Didn't I tell you?" Merlin asked in an all-too-innocent voice. "I'm the last dragon lord."
Morgause snarled. "Lies!" she shrieked, obviously out of control. "Attack them! Kill them!"
Not many of Cenred's men did as they were ordered, though. Instead, they turned tail and ran like the cowards they were. The dragon didn't pay them any mind, turning his attention to the witch. Cenred had begun to flee with his men and Morgause hadn't done anything to stop him. A few brave but utterly stupid soldiers ran toward Merlin and the dragon. The beast stepped forward, the ground shaking with each step, and extended its great head. Its tremendous maw opened, revealing more teeth than Arthur had ever seen in one mouth before, and blew out a cloud of deadly flames that stretched almost as far as the eye could see.
Arthur felt panic rise in him as the flames billowed closer to him and his comrades, consuming everything in sight. He didn't know what was happening to those it touched or whether anyone was able to get away. The dragon was ruthless.
Trees were burning, smoke was billowing in monstrous quantities, and there were screams of fear and pain. And not one flame licked Arthur.
It stopped.
Slowly the smoke cleared and Arthur looked around to see the destruction wrought by the dragon. It was great. Everything within at least a mile was burned to a crisp. Many of the soldiers had managed to get away and there was no sign of Cenred or Morgause anywhere – which meant that the witch had probably used magic to help them escape. But strangely enough, Arthur couldn't seem to care about that at the moment.
Merlin had just saved them all. He had fought Morgause and won, and summoned a bloody dragon. A dragon! And all after having been injured to the point of death. He held a scary, ridiculous amount of power and yet all Arthur could think about was how he had saved them all.
Speaking of which…
Arthur rushed forward, mindless of the dragon, not even noticing that the shield was gone, that he was no longer glowing.
Merlin was still standing when he got closer, his visible eye a dull gold, turning bluer by the moment. Arthur watched in horror as his friend, the man who had just saved them all, toppled forward with not so much as a whimper. Arthur lunged forward and caught his servant just in time, appalled at how much worse he looked now.
Just how much power had Merlin used to save them, anyway? And how had he had the strength to do what he did?
Whatever the reason, be it his magic or sheer stubbornness alone, it didn't matter right now. Arthur heard the sound of his friends gathering around him. He still didn't know if Matthew or Lancelot's friend had come around yet, or if they were even alive. All he saw was the bleeding, unconscious man in his arms.
Dying.
And then Merlin took one last shuddering breath…
His chest fell still.
A/N: You all are going to murder me in my sleep after this, aren't you? *cringes at answer* Yeah, that's what I thought. Buuut, before you do kill me, remember this – if you kill me, I can't update, and you won't be able to find out what happens next, if Merlin's going to be okay, or anything. But I will tell you this since you'll more than likely have to wait until Friday for an update – I'm not one to kill characters off permanently unless one of the genres is "tragedy" so you can piece together whatever you like with that tidbit of information. :)
Seriously, though, this was so much fun to write – can't get enough of BA!Merlin, hee hee. Hopefully everyone was still in character, and I know I sorta fudged it a little with the dragon lord connection because they don't go into it too much in the show… but I'd like to think it's that strong! :) PLEASE REVIEW!
I'll try to update before Friday if it is at all possible, but if not – see you in a week! :) Please lemme know what you think! XD
~Emachinescat ^..^
