Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.
Author's Note:I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of this chapter :) It was one of my favorites to write, and I think it is going to BE one of my favorite chapters overall! LotR is such lovely inspiration for fighting scenes (and any number of others) ;). I'm really looking forward to the chapters that follow this one, as well. We're getting a clearer picture now of what Camelot's future may, in fact, look like. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Reviewers: All 323 of you, thank you!
Rating: T/M
Summary: Three years have passed since Merlin's partial reveal of his magic. On the eve of their assault on Helios and Morgana's forces, Emrys must finally reveal himself in full. Quite without his knowing, it alters the entire course of Camelot's future—as well as his own, with the Once and Future King…[Ambiguous Relationship (Merlin/Arthur)]
"Speech"
Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)
.:A Man's Measure:.
By Sentimental Star
VIII: The King's Grace (Part 17)
At first, Merlin found himself too distracted by the current situation to ask any questions about Leon's presence in the dungeons once the dust had settled: Elyan, Gwaine, and over three score of their people needed medical attention, food, and blankets. Something of which Merlin was keenly aware.
Pressing his lips together, he motioned for Leon, Percival, and Gwen to support the two other knights over to the nearest wall, Percy handing off the ring of keys to the Head Knight once Leon had situated Gwaine.
"I'll take care of them," Merlin murmured as he helped Gaius sit. "Unlock the cells and bring over anyone else who is badly injured so I can heal them. We'll figure out the rest from there."
"Do you have enough power for that?" Gwen asked softly as she helped Percival position her brother. "You've been using your magic near-constantly since the dragons brought us here."
Merlin deliberately ignored Gwaine's mouth flapping open as the knight dumbly mouthed, "Dragons?" and did not dare look at Gaius as he shrugged, "I have enough for this."
"And battling Morgana? Merlin-!"
Gaius pointedly cleared his throat, interrupting Gwen. Merlin's cheeks burned as he avoided his mentor's gaze, not quite brave enough to meet the elderly physician's eyes.
"She's right, Merlin," the older man remarked quietly, "and while I would sorely like to know how this is even a sanctioned conversation…if you do, in fact, intend to face Morgana, you will need every ounce of magical energy you have. Do not underestimate her. She is a High Priestess, and a High Priestess—even one that is half-trained—is a formidable opponent."
Merlin blew out a breath, relieved he would not be subject to a (well-deserved) scolding, "I am aware, Gaius, but—"
Camelot's Court Physician rolled his eyes, "You are forgetting you have two others also trained in the healing arts. My power may be small and underused compared to yours, but I believe it will suffice. Although Guinevere may not possess any magical ability, her medical knowledge is most impressive. She has assisted me for many years, after all."
Gwen blushed at the old physician's wink and ducked her head, well-pleased.
"…Right," Merlin flushed, and wisely did not try to refute his mentor, despite the nagging whisper at the back of his head insisting that Gaius had no business attempting such a thing until he was fully healed.
The warlock was spared from further lecture when Leon and Percival, who had meanwhile spread out and begun unlocking cells, brought over the first freed prisoners.
For a while, healing the sick and the wounded, as well as conjuring bandages, blankets, food, and water preoccupied Merlin. Once Gaius and Gwen were well-supplied with what they needed to take care of the rest, he finally managed to find the time to kneel in front of Elyan and Gwaine—who, though in rough shape, had insisted the townspeople be healed first.
As true and loyal to their oaths as any, Merlin thought, eyes burning as he healed a particularly nasty looking gash along Gwaine's side, while Gwen insisted on looking after Elyan. Arthur would be proud of them.
Which, inevitably, brought up the question of why the hell Leon was in the dungeons, especially since they were still in the midst of a battle.
"…Where the hell is Arthur?" Merlin gritted out between his teeth once Leon had joined him, eyes glowing gold as he continued to scan Gwaine for any additional injuries.
Three broken carpal bones, concussed, malnourished, dehydrated, intense exhaustion…
Leon's heavy sigh rolled between them, reclaiming Merlin's attention, "…Still on track to confront Morgana and Helios."
"What?" Merlin squawked, his head jerking up.
Leon held up his hands placatingly, "Peace, Merlin. He has Lionel and a score of our knights with him."
"And this is supposed to make me feel better?" the warlock muttered through clenched teeth, leaning down to heal Gwaine's left wrist, then secure it in a conjured bandage and sling. "What the hell is he thinking?"
Gwaine snorted, peeling one eye open to peer up at Merlin from where he'd leaned his head back against the flagstone wall, "Three guesses and the first two don't count," the knight murmured.
Merlin scowled at him, lightly pressing two of his fingers to the man's forehead, eyes flashing gold as he sought to heal the concussion, "Shut up. You're supposed to be sleeping."
Leon gave a crooked smirk at their byplay, watching the warlock heal his fellow knight, "I believe His Majesty's exact words were, 'He is going to need more than a sorcerer and a sword maiden to retake the dungeons.' I did make it clear I disagreed with his decision."
Merlin bit back a curse, half-shooting to his feet as he finished healing Gwaine, "…Noble ass!"
Gwaine chuckled, both eyes flickering open, "Why are you so surprised?"
The warlock cast him an irritated glance, opening his mouth to fire off a retort…when Leon suddenly caught him by his arm, "Wait, Merlin…!"
"What?" he demanded.
To his credit, Leon barely even blinked, "We've freed many of Morgana's prisoners and captured quite a few of her men. What is to be done about them?"
"Turn the Southrons into frogs," Gwaine offered, shutting his eyes, "I know a few herons who would be delighted by the meal."
Merlin rolled his eyes, a tiny bit of his tension easing as he released a half-snort, "Too much effort," he murmured.
Leon coughed to conceal a laugh, pointedly raising his eyebrow.
The warlock sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Lock the Southrons in the dungeons for the moment. Leave as many fighters as we can spare behind to guard them. I'll set a ward to prevent anyone from catching our people unawares. Have the townspeople shelter in place. The moment it is safe to do so, begin sending them to the garrison in the forest—with armed guards, if possible."
Merlin raised his head, taking in the exhausted families scattered throughout the dungeon, many who watched him quietly as he conversed with the Head Knight. He flushed, unused to the kind of attention he found himself receiving, "We may want to send a messenger ahead, to warn them of a large influx of refugees. We really should establish some kind of second garrison in the woods, so they aren't overwhelmed…"
"We succeeded in taking back the Great Hall," Percival offered from where he helped Gwen wrap a blanket around Elyan. "That might alleviate the need for a second garrison and armed guards. Many of our fighters are still there."
Merlin thought about it a moment and nodded, laying a hand on the knight's broad shoulder, "Let's do that, then. As soon as it is safe, head there. We'll try to meet up with you once we've hopefully retaken the Council Chamber and joined Arthur." He squeezed Percival's shoulder and let go, smiling at Leon as the Head Knight released him, "Coming, Gwen?"
Guinevere tied off the final bandage around her sleeping brother's head and nodded, climbing to her feet after laying a swift kiss on his brow, "I'm ready. Let's go."
Before she could fully rise, Leon gently grabbed her hand, "Guinevere—" he attempted to protest, but trailed off at her warm smile.
Leaning down, she kissed his cheek, pulling back with a flushed face and a shy grin, as he momentarily lost his capability for speech, "We will be fine, Leon. I promise."
Leon could say little else, as Merlin held out his hand to her and she took it, warlock and sword maiden darting from the room before anyone else could object or stop them.
A still-mostly-asleep Gwaine snorted, his eyes cracking open, "Should we be worried that the two people most vital to Camelot's future just rushed out of the dungeons unprotected?"
"I think it is not Guinevere who we need to be most worried about," Leon observed softly, eyes locked on Merlin's back as Camelot's Lady Hawk disappeared from view at the end of the hall, "because it is not Guinevere whose survival the outcome of this battle may very well hinge upon."
Gwaine grunted in agreement, shutting his eyes once again and leaning up against Leon's shoulder.
Quietly, Camelot's Head Knight unfolded the blanket Merlin had left him with, wrapping it around the dozing man, and settled back to assume a silent vigil as he waited for the fighting to end.
IOIOIOIOIOI
An eerie silence settled across Camelot's halls as the more intense fighting began to subside. The entire castle appeared to hold its breath as it awaited the outcome of the battle.
Arthur kept himself braced against the wall with one hand, warily peering out across the hallway from behind the line of columns leading to the Council Chamber. The other he kept wrapped around his aching ribs.
(A Southron had gotten in a lucky shot. Presumably, Lionel had taken care of him.)
Unfortunately, no other avenue existed to access the Council Chamber, and the nearest servants' door stood fastened shut forty feet ahead of him. Directly in the line of sight belonging to the one—perhaps two—shadows that had mirrored his every move since he had entered this corridor.
The columns afforded him some shelter, but eventually, he would have to reveal himself. Complicating matters even further, five burly Southrons stood guard at the Council Chamber's entrance.
His pursuer lingered ahead of him, concealed by the shadows of the columns across the room. Possibly, he could back track and sneak up on them from behind, thereby catching them unawares. It was the only viable option.
Arthur released a faint sigh. "Merlin is going to kill me," he muttered under his breath, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet in preparation to run.
…Every muscle froze as a dagger's long blade slid across his jugular vein—not enough to draw blood, but with just enough pressure to make him keenly aware of its presence.
"…I really should," Merlin's voice came from behind him, low and incredibly cranky. "It might actually teach you a lesson."
Every single muscle unlocked as Arthur slumped against the sturdy body at his back, mindful of the blade still at his neck.
"Merlin-!" he hissed, equal parts relieved and intensely annoyed. He released his white-knuckled grip on Excalibur's hilt.
"You absolute idiot-!" Merlin snarled softly, shoving his dagger into its sheath, and grabbing Arthur by a fistful of his tabard. "Did it ever occur to you that this is exactly what Morgana wanted? To isolate you so that there would be little chance for someone to save you-!"
Arthur hissed as his ribs flared in protest, finding himself fetched up painfully against the wall, and quickly revised his assessment of Merlin's emotional state: not only was his best friend cranky, but he was also completely and unequivocally pissed off.
…Literally, the warlock's magic crackled around him—gold and blue and all the hues in-between.
"…You are literally emitting sparks, Merlin," Arthur drawled, a small (very small) part of him quailing at his best friend's eloquent display of temper.
At least it startled Merlin enough that he released him.
"What?" the other man rasped, the flares and flickers of gold and blue dancing around him disappearing as swiftly as they had come.
Arthur let out a relieved breath, yanking his tabard straight as he regained his feet.
"…That's better," he murmured, reaching up to tug Merlin's brow against his own, mussing up his hair as he did so.
It was the only apology he would give.
Merlin breathed in against Arthur, clearly attempting to wrestle his temper under control.
"Were you even aware that you were being followed, my Lord?" the warlock demanded as his king released him.
Arthur snorted quietly, "Yes, I was aware, Merlin. Christ, you would think I'm blind, with the way you are carrying on."
Merlin's temper spiked, "I am 'carrying on,' as you so eloquently put it, because you may as well be! Where the hell is your back up, Arthur? Leon said you had Lionel and a score of knights with you. Where the hell are they? I swear to the gods, if you sent them away, too-!"
Arthur rolled his eyes, his own temper peaking, "We do still have a battle we're fighting, Merlin. Lionel was needed elsewhere. And you're a fine one to talk…"
He glanced pointedly at the lack of Gwen or Bors at his best friend's shoulders.
Merlin smirked, little humor evident in the expression, "Fortunately for you, Gwen and I both realized you were being followed. She's tracking your tracker now. We should find out shortly who it is."
Arthur scowled, glancing away as he clamped his arms protectively around his thrice-bruised ribs, the blush fierce and hot on his cheeks.
"…I had it handled," he muttered, refusing to admit he had probably needed the help.
"Well, so did I!" Merlin snapped, gingerly lifting Arthur's arms in attempt to examine the bones in question. "You had no need to send Kay or Percival or Leon after me-!"
"Percy was just a happy coincidence—"
"You promised, Arthur!"
Merlin's final retort shut Arthur up rather fast, as did the fierce expression suffusing his beloved friend's face and the red tingeing his eyes.
However, before he could regain his speaking faculties, someone else did: "Save it for the practice field, boys," Isolde's teasing voice spoke up from behind them.
Jumping apart (when had they gotten so close?), Arthur and Merlin spun around to face the woman where she stood between Gwen and Tristan, her bow in hand and a tiny smirk tugging at her lips as she watched them.
Most of the tension fled Arthur's shoulders. "It was you," he breathed, "you were the ones following me."
"Guilty," Isolde confirmed with a crooked smile. "To be fair, we thought you were a Southron, at first."
Merlin snorted, and Arthur nudged him in the ribs as the younger man relaxed, "Be quiet, you can't deny you thought the same," the king murmured.
His warlock scowled, "Shut up. So did you."
Arthur could do little else but grin, his gloved hand tangling with Merlin's as he sought to convey his relief with a squeeze to the other man's hand.
Merlin gripped his hand back just as tightly.
IOIOIOIOIOI
"…Are there any wards?" Arthur's whisper fell against Merlin's ear where he leaned around the warlock to peer out at the Southrons stationed in front of the Council Chamber, the columns hiding the five of them from sight.
Merlin tried very hard to ignore the vibrations of the broad chest against his back and mostly succeeded, his eyes flicking back to blue as his magic receded.
He shook his head, "None whatsoever. Morgana has grown cocky about her watch on the surrounding hallways."
"Well, that's good news for us," Arthur smiled tightly, clasping Merlin's shoulder, before releasing him to turn to Gwen and Isolde.
Merlin breathed out heavily, momentarily shutting his eyes as he sought to regain his equilibrium once the other man's warmth had left his back.
Tristan grinned at him from where he kept an eye on the guards from Merlin's other side, "Rather distracting, isn't it?" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Merlin turned about three shades of red as he caught the man's implication, but before he could sputter out any sort of denial, Tristan chuckled, eyeing him in amusement.
"Peace, my friend," the knight murmured. "I was only jesting."
Merlin let out a quiet breath, firmly shunting his thoughts to the side as he focused on the present situation.
Tristan sobered when he saw the warlock do the same, "How many men does she have with her?"
Merlin's eyes flickered gold once more as he reached out with his magic to brush up against the presence of anyone within the Council Chamber itself.
Frowning at what he felt, he let his magic retreat into his body, gold irises swirling back to blue, "Helios, but no one else other than those five guards."
"Comforting," Tristan muttered, tightening his grip on his sword's pommel as he watched one of the Southrons lean over to whisper something to the mercenary next to him.
"They're getting restless," Isolde observed quietly as she joined her lover.
"They know we're here," Arthur murmured as he rejoined Merlin, leaning his arm against the column behind the younger man's head to ease some of the weight from his bruised ribs.
The warlock frowned at him, knowing his friend's ribs were still tender and hating that they were only moments away from confronting the guards.
Well-acquainted with Merlin's thoughts, Arthur gave him a lopsided smirk clearly meant to be reassuring.
Merlin glared at him, opening his mouth to remark on the sheer idiocy of attacking an enemy in such a state.
Arthur merely leaned forward, crowding the warlock against the column.
"I'll be fine," he breathed in Merlin's ear.
The warlock scowled up at him, doing his damnedest to ignore their proximity, "Somehow, I'm not convinced."
Arthur snorted, gingerly drawing back, "I didn't really expect you to be."
He did not catch Merlin's expression morphing from a scowl into a rather anxious frown, but Gwen did. She nodded to the warlock, slipping unnoticed behind Arthur where she could watch their king's back.
Merlin breathed a silent sigh of relief and returned his attention to Arthur.
Camelot's king eyed the corridor in front of them and the five guards stationed there with steely determination, "One each," his best friend murmured. "Pick your man. On me!"
With a faint ring, he unsheathed Excalibur, and charged around the corner.
IOIOIOIOIOI
In the end, it was almost too easy: Arthur cracked the pommel of his sword soundly against the back of the first mercenary's head, sending him in Merlin's direction, who—with an elegant twirl of his wrists—sliced the man's jugular vein with his daggers, as well as that of the second mercenary next to him.
Tristan and Isolde also chose to attack together, the woman slashing out one mercenary's eyes with her arrow. As he crumpled to the floor with a howl, she whirled around, setting that same arrow on her bow string, and let it fly into the neck of the fourth mercenary as Tristan knocked him towards her with a powerful blow to the man's side.
Guinevere took out the last mercenary, first kicking the man in the knee and stomach, then striking him directly in the face with her sword's hilt as he keeled forward.
Within moments, all five guards were either dead or knocked senseless.
Panting, the five of them stared at each other, not quite comprehending the swift turn this battle had taken.
"Whatever happened to finding a bit of land and settling down?" Isolde muttered at last to Tristan, slinging her bow over her shoulder.
Her lover gave a breathless laugh and sheathed his sword.
Taking their cue from the man, Guinevere and Merlin also sheathed their weapons.
By silent agreement, only Arthur kept Excalibur out, and he exhaled heavily, eyes lingering on Merlin as he murmured, "Ready?"
"As we'll ever be," the warlock returned softly.
Arthur knocked their foreheads together, sparing but a moment to breathe his beloved friend in.
"Be careful," he reminded him quietly.
Merlin swallowed harshly. "You, too," he whispered.
The warlock pulled away, taking up a position opposite Gwen who flanked Arthur on his other side; Tristan and Isolde fell back a step to close the rear; and the king took a deep breath, pressing his hand firmly against the wooden door of the Council Chamber to shove it open.
Morgana greeted them from where she lounged on the throne, a delighted smirk twisting her lips, "Brother dear…how kind of you to join us."
TBC