Now You See Me
Arthur did not believe in ghosts.
Although magic was a very real and trying concept, ghosts did not exist. If they did, a lot of spectres would be popping up left and right because people died every day. Arthur did not like being callous, but it was a fact of life.
The forest he, Merlin, and the rest of the knights were in, however…
Arthur couldn't explain it.
A strange, hair-raising atmosphere pressed down on their shoulders, engulfing them in a fog. The only thing that kept Arthur from pressing forward was the thought of the people waiting back in Camelot for the ghosts to disappear.
"Do you feel that?" he whispered to Merlin.
The forest was making normal sounds - leaves rustled, and every once in a while, a twig cracked - but Arthur trusted nothing. If ever there was a time for Merlin to have a "funny feeling" that might tell them something, it was now.
"Yeah." Merlin was peering around at the trees. "Something feels funny."
Although Arthur's arm was growing tired, he refused to lower his sword. "Let's look for that blasted lonestone and get out of here as quickly as possible." The sooner they reunited with the other knights, the better. They'd split up in hopes of covering more of the forest in less time, but now Arthur wished Elyan, Leon, Percival, and Gwaine were with them.
After all, there wasn't much Merlin could do to help him if a ghost decided to appear.
"Arthur?"
At the sound of his name, Arthur stiffened.
"What's wrong?" Merlin hissed.
"Didn't you hear that?"
"Arthur!"
"There it is again!" Arthur stopped walking and turned in a slow circle, hoping to catch the sound again. He was not disappointed.
"Arthur?"
Although it felt as though it should have been familiar, Arthur did not recognize the voice.
"Who is that?" he asked Merlin.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Merlin said nervously, giving him a strange look. "Has Gwaine been sharing his waterskin with you again? Really, Arthur, I thought you knew-"
Arthur shushed him. As a cold sensation washed over him, a white figure appeared three feet in front of him.
Although supposedly deaf to the matter, Merlin gasped, eyes widening.
"Arthur," a woman's voice cooed. "I found you."
Arthur might not have been familiar with the voice, but he recognized the woman because of the portraits that hung in the hall.
It was his mother.
Ygraine reached out a hand towards Arthur's cheek. "My darling. I've waited so long."
The sword slipped from his fingers.
"Arthur?" Merlin's voice raised in pitch.
"Mother?" He took a step forward, but the figure morphed into someone else.
Uther.
Uther frowned at his son. "Look at what you have done to Camelot."
Arthur didn't know what to do. It was as though the presence of the ghosts had driven his mind and his ability to move from his body. He was paralyzed.
"Merlin! Merlin!"
Laughter peeled about the forest.
"Merlin, look what I found. Strawberries!"
Next to Arthur, Merlin started. "Freya?" he called, his voice filled with both longing and fear.
The ghost of Uther/Ygraine began walking away, stomping and gliding through the forest's thicket. Arthur felt torn in two. His entire life, he had dreamed of what his mother had been like, but now he wasn't sure if the figure blending into the woods was her or his father.
A young girl appeared in front of them. She gave Merlin a big smile. "Merlin!"
"Why-" Merlin choked over the words. "The lake?"
"Come," the girl beckoned, holding out a hand. "You won't have to be afraid anymore. You can come with me. We'll build a farm and raise animals."
Who was she?
Arthur was faced with too many choices. He could stay and discover the girl's identity, he could follow after his mother, he could follow after his father and open up the slew of emotions that came along with him, he could-
Merlin was taking a step forward, reaching out a hand to take Freya's.
Arthur knew of magic. Ghosts were magic. Ygraine and Uther weren't real. They were only shadows of what they would have been if they were alive.
Lunging forward, he wrapped a strong arm around Merlin's middle, holding him back.
Merlin fought. He kicked Arthur, tried to headbutt him. Momentarily, Arthur lost his vision as the back of Merlin's head collided with his skull.
"Let me go!" Merlin screamed. "Let me go!"
"I can't," Arthur answered, huffing.
If he let Merlin go, he saw Merlin intertwining his fingers with Freya's, fading away, and entering the world of the dead.
"Merlin," Freya called, "please. Before they stop us."
"Please, Arthur."
He refused to release his manservant.
Off somewhere in another part of the forest, something wailed. Another group of knights must have reached the lodestone, Arthur realized, before a shock wave blasted through the forest, knocking him and Merlin to the ground.
When the ringing in his ears ceased and his head cleared, Arthur scrambled to his feet. In the middle of the path, Merlin was lying prone.
Arthur tripped over tiny shrubs, trees, and his own feet to get to Merlin. His heart thudded through his ears. Was Merlin dead?
Whenever he rolled Merlin over, however, he found that Merlin was alive.
There were tear tracks on his cheeks.
"Why?" Merlin croaked as the heavy blanket began to rise from the forest. "Why?"
"It was better than dying," Arthur attempted to joke.
"No, Arthur," Merlin whispered, closing his eyes. "It was worse."