Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with BBC, Julian Murphy, Johnny Caps, etc (sadly). I do not own the characters in Merlin, I am using them under the fair use and/or transformative works clause of copyright law and receive no profit or material privilege from my use of them.
GUYS. This is the last chapter. I'm kinda sad that it's over because I've had so much fun writing this story…anyway, please review and tell me what you think of the ending! Also, ff net's telling me I've got more reviews but is frustratingly not allowing me to read them, so if you gave me feedback and I haven't incorporated it, I'm sorry, and that's why. Enjoy!
Merlin feels sick as the heavy, rough hands of the guards shove his tied up body along the gap in the crowds, all the way to the hastily constructed stage with it's wooden block, still covered in sawdust. The day is warm and sunny, and Merlin feels a moment of gratitude that his last day in the world will at least not be raining.
He tries not to look up: one particularly vicious guard has already smacked his head against the castle wall for doing just that, and his ears still ring from the slap of it.
Merlin is trying to find a spell in his muddled brain, some magic that will stop this madness, but everything inside his head is a mess and he knows with nauseating foreboding that all the spells have momentarily disappeared. He can't think, there's nothing in his head. Merlin realises that he knows what Morgana meant when she'd said "I'm not inside this body." He doesn't feel like he's here at all.
Morgana...
Where is she? He prays to every god he has ever heard of that she is somewhere deep inside the castle, perhaps with Gwen. Her bedroom window looks out on the square and if he has one final wish before dying, it's that she doesn't have to watch this.
His wish is not granted. As he numbly approaches the stage, Merlin hears Morgana's voice scream his name, once and then again. His heart drops to the pit of his stomach but he doesn't want to look up, doesn't want her to see the tears in his eyes.
Merlin kneels before the block, arms painfully twisted behind him. Don't cry, dammit. He just wants to see his mother once before he dies...and Gaius. I'm so sorry, Gaius. He'll never get the chance to thank Arthur for saving him or make anymore wisecracks at the prince's expense. He never got to kiss Morgana one final time...
A voice behind him startles him with its familiarity. "Merlin?" comes a whisper.
"Gwen?!" Merlin asks, head jerking at the warm, friendly voice.
"Ssh," she cautions hastily. "I'm right behind you. I'm the executioner...I mean, not the executioner, I'm here instead of the executioner, but, oh, you know what I mean."
Merlin lifts his head and cannot stop a wide smile spreading over his face. He should have known the three of them wouldn't let him die.
"I'm going to lift the axe. When I drop it, I'll stop it just before it hits you. Then I'll make a distraction and that's when you get out of here," Gwen continues in a whisper. "You trust me, don't you?" she adds anxiously.
Merlin doesn't feel a response to the last part is necessary. He's not going to die. He's not going to die. Merlin lifts his head straight up and looks directly at Uther. For a moment, it seems that the two of them, the king and the criminal, are the only two people in the whole square. Merlin's words cut cleanly through the crisp air, freezing the slow, lazy warmth with quicksilver.
"My lord," he says, "I hope for your sake, that one day you will learn to stop hating." Then he drops his head to the block, heart shuddering and thumping in his chest.
Gwen lifts the axe. And lets it fall. And once more, Merlin runs.
Through the crowds which part in alarm, his feet punishing the flagstones, his only thought to get out, get away. One more chance at life. There is no breath left in his body as reaches the end of the square amid screams and Uther's yelling, but it doesn't matter: he is running on pure adrenaline.
Then Merlin sees something that makes him skid to a stop and turn around. A tall man with brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail is standing very still at the back of the jostling crowds, and it's the stillness that catches Merlin's attention. The man is lifting something...a crossbow. Lifting a crossbow with an arrow in its tip and pointing it directly at Uther Pendragon.
Merlin sees Gwen's exasperated, bewildered face above her black mask because he's no longer running, heart jittering and beginning to slow. Merlin wants to let this happen; so what if Uther dies? He would have killed Merlin, he traded Morgana's life for an alliance with another Kingdom. But thinking of Morgana makes Merlin remember her words from days earlier: that whatever Uther had done, he didn't deserve to die. Merlin's loyalties, too, lie with Camelot. Not Essetir. He will not let this city fall; he can be brave, just like Morgana was.
Merlin looks upwards, searching for Morgana's face in the window and finding it. Stricken and glorious, hair tumbled out over shoulders, green eyes on fire.
And everything clarifies.
Merlin finds himself back inside his body, mind clear and precise as he reaches for the correct spell. "Sypian asytrung!" he calls out into the square as his eyes glow gold.
People slow down, bodies halted and lazy. Everything in slow motion. Merlin does not have time for another glance at Morgana, because Cenred's man in the crowd presses a heavy finger against the trigger. The arrow looses itself, shimmering in the air as it begins to spin towards the king. Merlin knows his spell will wear off soon, so he does the only thing he has time for. Returning to the stage at a run, Merlin looks desperately out over the gentle movement that will soon become frantic.
He steps in front of the arrow, and watches as the whole world turns into darkness.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
"Wake up. Come on, Merlin, wake up," Morgana's passionate, lilting voice is the first thing Merlin hears before he opens his eyes. He opens his wide blue orbs with effort and sees the blurred form of Morgana clutch a hand to her mouth.
"Thank the gods," she breathes and Merlin watches as she clarifies. He blinks.
"Did I die and go to heaven?" he asks weakly. His chest burns with an indescribable ache and his throat feels dry and parched.
Morgana smirks. "Yeah, and I was so distraught I decided to join you. You got hit by the arrow Cenred's man, Ulfric, aimed at the king, you silly noble man."
"And you nursed me back to life?" Merlin teases croakily, feeling a quick, overwhelming swell of joy. He's alive. He's alive, and Morgana is here and she loves him, and everything is going to be okay. The sunlight spills over his bed and Morgana lifts a bundled cloth and once more strokes his forehead with cool water that smells of lavender.
"Oh, yes. If it weren't for me you'd be dead," she says deadpan. At the shocked look on Merlin's face, she laughs. "Gaius nursed you back to life. I sat here and looked pretty and sponged your face. You were running a fever for about a day."
Merlin tries to sort through the previous day's events in his mind. "Gwen was the executioner."
"Gwen was brilliant," Morgana smiles with pride, "Although it would have been nice if someone could have told the two of us about the plan beforehand. I thought you were going to die."
"So did I," Merlin lets his head loll against the pillow, lacking the strength to lift it. He smiles contentedly up at Morgana. "Are you alright? After...Cenred, and everything?" he asks her, remembering her haunted, manic face and the body she claimed she wasn't inside.
Morgana shrugs and leans back, enjoying the touch of the sunshine on her neck and shoulders. "I'm fine, thank you. I don't know what happened...it was like I wasn't there at all. Like I was watching, almost. I killed him and...I liked it." She takes a ragged breath and focuses on finishing her sentence. "I had, it was almost a vision, a premonition. That I'd do it again, kill people, and like it just as much. And afterwards, I couldn't get the taste of him off of me. I kept scrubbing my lips, until the cut opened and I bled again. Then I could just taste blood." She looks into his eyes, expecting horror and pity and finding only understanding.
"It sounds very traumatic," says Merlin with sincere sympathy. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Mm. Says the man who stepped in front of an arrow and spent two days at death's door," she replies with a pointed glance at his aching chest. Merlin laughs and they are quiet for a moment, enjoying the peace and the warmth. The world might be turning, but they are still. The still point. The calm at the centre of the chaos. The victory, at the end of the war.
The milk is sweet and the cream floats at the top. The honey tastes like heaven. The dark and the light. The chaos and the order. The seer and the sorcerer, held together by lavender water and eternity, in the sunshine that tastes like peace on their tongues.
"Do you still love me?" Morgana asks him hungrily, a flip in her stomach and an anxious smile at the edges of her lips.
"What kind of a question is that? Of course I love you," Merlin tries to sit up, feeling as though he cannot go any longer without kissing her, but Morgana shoves gently at his shoulders.
"Uh uh. You have to lie still or the stitches will come out," she warns him. "And just for the record, I love you too."
"How are things with you and Uther?" Merlin asks her, reaching out a cautious hand and brushing her fingers with his. "After what he did to you, I would understand you being angry with him."
Morgana hesitates. "I think I just wanted my life to get back to normal. I spun him a lovely story about how I thought kissing conveyed impurity and waxed dramatic about how horrible Cenred was and how traumatic his attempted murder of me was. He lapped it up, I'm back to being the king's favourite ward," she sighs, "Of course, it helps that Essetir is far too busy having a civil war over who's next in line to the throne to bother about Camelot." Merlin nods and again they are quiet.
"You know," Merlin breaks the silence contemplatively, "I don't actually have to be sitting up for us to kiss-"
"Like this, you mean?" Morgana interrupts with a smirk and clambers atop the bed, sitting with her legs either side of his hips. She leans forward and her cool fingers hold his shoulders down ever so lightly as she brushes her lips against his. Merlin leans in for more, but she pulls away.
"So," says Morgana, raising her eyebrows, "Exactly when were you planning on telling me that you have magic?" She folds her arms, demanding a response.
"Ah." Merlin looks awkward.
Morgana looks unyielding. "Don't you dare try and deny it. I saw you cast that slow motion spell over the whole square, although luckily I was far enough away that it didn't affect me. You have magic, Merlin, and you didn't tell me."
"I was going to tell you! I was, I just...I was waiting for the right time..." Merlin's sentence drifts away at the look on her face.
"I see. And the right time would have been, when?" she asks.
"I don't know," says Merlin, the most honest answer he can give. Morgana sighs and leans back down, meeting his lips with her own. Her tongue flickers at the entrance to his lips, and he opens his mouth, deepening the long, gentle kiss.
"You're not angry with me?" Merlin asks, confused, as they part once more.
Morgana runs her tongue along her lips experimentally, noting with pleasure that she can no longer taste Cenred. She tastes like herself, herself and Merlin. Even the metallic tang of blood seems to have faded away. "Oh, I am," she informs him. "In fact, I yelled at you for a good two hours. But being the contrary person that you are, you were unconscious for the whole time."
Merlin laughs and Morgana allows an amused smile to tinge the corners of her mouth. "Poor Gaius actually got most of the yelling. We really must do something for him to make up for all the stress and worry of this whole affair. And no, I don't think I'm angry anymore. I'm just glad we're the same, I think. We are the same, aren't we?"
Merlin remembers saying something very similar himself once. "In some ways we are."
They are interrupted in the middle of their next kiss by an awkward scuffling, throat clearing sound in the doorway. They pull away from one another to see Arthur standing there, one hand over his eyes. "I came to see how Merlin was getting on. And to tell both of you that the King's officially pardoned Merlin, considering how he saved his life and all that, but I can see you two weren't exactly waiting for the bloody go ahead," he tells them.
"It's alright. You can look," Morgana smirks. "And thank you for that very welcome piece of news."
Arthur removes his hand from his eyes and sighs. "Is there actually any point in telling you that he's decreed that the two of you are not to see each other, at all?"
"Probably not," admits Morgana, "Although I suppose we could pretend we're listening to him. It'll make him feel better."
"Right. Well, I'll leave you to your-" he waves a hand vaguely, "Whatever it is you were doing. Oh, and Merlin," Arthur stops in the doorway and points a finger at the recumbent servant. "Since you're alive and no longer a wanted criminal, I expect to see you in my chambers tomorrow morning. My armour hasn't been polished for about a week."
"Bright and early," Merlin calls after the departing prince ruefully.
"Bye Arthur!" Morgana adds, laughing. Then she slams the door shut with a magical flick of her fingers and returns to Merlin. She smiles at him, brightly and happily, and he smiles back.
"Come now. Kiss me again, love," Morgana says to Merlin.