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This is a new chapter, but the last four have been reforged, remade, and sublimated. I hope you enjoy the new five chapters… Do Review!
Chapter 5: The things we leave behind.
Year 685, August.
The Castle was silent. But not entirely, there was the unmistakable sound of a deserted ancient citadel. The hitting of notches, tools banging with one another, a dog barking, a cat climbing the empty halls. And the creaking and howling of the wind, a creepy sound, if all.
Her hair moved on it, that summer breeze that once had signified spring and life, and that now, smelled like rotten. Dead.
Her lips curled, it seemed as if the very spring was now deceased.
Her eyes brushed through the courtyard, as fine strokes on a painting, it may be perhaps the last time she saw the castle. Her former home. Camelot may have been the epitome of all that she hated, but still she could not bring herself to destroy it.
Much had changed. Yet, not enough, for magic was no longer prosecuted, but it still was frowned upon. Far from the ideal she had strived for, what would Morgause say could she see her sister now?
It would be so easy now, to break the defense, to have Lot make the dirty job, and then to take his life, his army, his throne and her city. She could use the army as a destraction; and then she, herself would deal with the mighty Emrys. Everything would be hers.
Morgana shivered, how could she? How could she do that to herself? To get involve again? Letting the darkness take ahold of her, yet again? Better dead than under its power again, right? Better dead than a slave.
She edged dramatically onto the railing, and she knew what she was seeing: The familiar arches and halls, the grass and the gardens. The great gates, the hollow towers… the towers she and Arthur had run up, looking in their boredom for that fun and mischief teenagers all but need.
How long will they last… she wondered, when the siege ended would they still stand? Would Merlin and she?
Her hand absentmindedly grasped a tiny piece of rock from the railing; she pulled it up to her eyes and examined it. She would not be surprised if in the end that is all that remained of Camelot.
Nothing lasts forever, after all. She whispered to herself.
And Merlin and she would they? How long would they survive? Millennia? Two? Three? Would they wait so long, that the world would become unrecognizable?
The wind hit her again strongly on the face, and as she looked away she saw him.
A man on a horse, inspecting the gate. Lot had arrived, she decided. Finally, she could not wait much longer more… She yearned for something to do…
Her hand went to the arrow nearby, she lifted it. Feeling the soft feather and the wood. She pulled it up close.
"You need a bow?" A voice asked, she turned violently lifting the youth up and pushing him not so gently to the wall. She almost let out a sigh.
Her eyes narrowed at Llacheou, who gulped, and she let the prince down slowly. Merlin would not like her very much if anything happened to the boy; it was not like she cared. Not at all, he was the last of the Pendragon wretched line.
"Never sneak up on me." She growled, eyes narrowed. Llacheou looked at her in half fear and curiousity. He knew the power the witch supposedly possessed. He had heard of it, whispered, in both hate and fear.
The elders spoke of Morgana; Le Fay they called her, two French words... Le Fay was mocking, an insulting title that they gave her. They also changed her name to Morgan. Somehow that was meant to insult her, but she did not mind. She would outlive that name.
She was wasting time in thought, Lot's spy could not escape.
She hurried to the edge of the balcony, to see the rider in the distance. Probably on his way to report to his King. She looked at the arrow smugly; a normal bow would not do it anyway. It did not matter with the bow or otherwise, the scout would never reach Lot.
She would not allow it.
"Sorry, Lot." Morgana whispered. With a golden flash in her eyes she lifted the arrow into the air. The prince backed off looking nervously at the arrow's point; magic, he did not understand. Part of him feared its capacities. "Ærne þaes windbland ond átæsan hine" (1) She commanded.
He feared how destructive it could become; he saw good in magic with Merlin. But in Morgana… He saw a lioness, beautiful and graceful, but terribly dangerous too. How could her magic be good?
The arrow was sent forth with a mighty blast, the youth ran at the balcony and with his knight-trained eyes managed to see it in the air, it turned around in a way no arrow could and with strength no bow could provide sailing in the air, turning; following the target, and then the arrow with great power, hit Lot's scout in the neck.
The scout lifted into the air, several feet he was thrown back. As if he was hit with a cannon instead of a simple arrow.
The rider's horse, much more attuned to the land; fled away from the powerful magic it sensed, leaving the rider behind, as the man fell, breaking almost all the bones on his body, he did not feel it, though; he was not alive when they broke.
Morgana smiled a predatory grin, before taking another arrow and placing it on the table, preparing for a next prey; posteriorly, turning back to looking nostalgically at the town. Her mind lost in thought
Llacheou trailed the progress of the projectile to his aunt, again and again; mortified by the sheer power the priestess possessed. Nothing that he expected in anyway, her power was raw and dangerous.
Morgana seemed to realize he was still there; she slowly flinched, turning back slowly.
She regarded him with a bored and half amused expression.
The crown prince had heard of Morgana, and her beauty which was said to leave the most focused knight tongue-tied. And it was one of those rare moments in which reality seemed to surpass any imagination. The magic seemed to have enhanced her features.
Her lips curled into yet another smiled. "Do you fear me, princeling?" The smile was mocking, a grin she was actually known of. A smirk that had actually been directed to his father, many times over. Not that the prince would know so.
Llacheou just looked, angrily. Not forgetting this woman had killed him… "No. I am but wary of your power. But Merlin will stop you should you try anything." The prince declared. Morgana narrowed her eyes at him, was that a challenge? He should know who she was?
"Why have you come?" She asked, glaring at him. "You are here to taunt me?" Llacheou grabbed the hilt with his left hand. Feeling the threat in her hiss.
"What have you done that warrants my people's trust?" He demanded, pulling a bit of the weapon out. Morgana glanced at the silvery metal gleam.
"Trust?" She laughed. A gleam of that depredatorian smirk again on her face. "Do not talk to me about trust!" She snorted and then scowled "How can I trust YOU?" She growled, and if Llacheou had been looking he would have seen some of the panels in the floor slowly crack. "Will you not burn me in the stake when Lot is defeated?"
Llacheou growled, taking more of the blade out. "It would be justice. You killed many, including my father."
"He and your psychotic grandfather killed many more!" She defended. Shrieking. "How many fathers, mothers, wives, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters did he murder?" Morgana asked, voice tainted with fury and sarcasm. "Pendragons are stains on the Earth! You are selfish and cruel, murdering without mercy or control; treating people as if they were a disease!" The priestess could barely hold the wrath from affecting her magic
And only to honor Gwen and Merlin she stayed her hand. Neither of them would forgive Morgana should she kill their last 'son.' Perhaps, Merlin would say he did not, but Morgana knew better, Merlin saw Llacheou and Loholt as his children too.
Her powers seemed to pour onto the sky, where the sunset disappeared in Camelot when big storm clouds covered the land. Llacheou glanced nervously out the window as the sky darkened, as the ground and the forest seen from the castle turned black and shadowy.
"What about all you did?" Llacheou said, looking at Morgana as his late father once did
"Do you presume to judge me?!" She roared turning at him with a small tint of gold on her green-gray eyes. "You were not there! Have you ever smelled the burning flesh of a family? Have you?!" Morgana roared, obvious anger and disgust on her features.
18 years had gone by and still the smell of Uther's victims still haunted her senses, even away from sleep.
Now that the war was over and she slept again, her dreams were plagued with guilt, pain and executions. Merlin had promised to help her, but he was busy and she had no idea of how to stop it.
Meanwhile in the prince's own mind, he tried to ignore the picture in it; that of several men, women and children tied by chains on the stake, their flesh peeling off. He looked at the priestess, glaring. "No!" He growled. "Things have changed in Camelot, but have you?!"
She clenched her fist, pressing her nails into the back of her hand. "I fight to defend those who would condemn me! My enemies! " Morgana said an almost animal fury in her eyes. "Would you do it? Would you fight for the Druids?"
Llacheou opened his mouth wishing he could simply say Yes. But no sound left his lips; he feared magic, because he read about it.
The prince knew about the darkest kind of magic, he had read about Necromancy, on the banned books; and the mere concept terrified him.
"No, of course not." Morgana angered, "You are Arthur's son. Uther's heir." She bit her lip, in fury. "Go back to your people." She ordered, looking back at the courtyard again. "You are no better than any of them." It was true, no common man would fight for their enemies, even in no aggression.
But Morgana was no common woman. She would evolve. She would leave them all behind.
Rosemary, the taste of its smell lingered on the air. The smell of Rosemary hid all others. It was so familiar, Merlin inhaled loudly, he was home.
The warlock cleaned the dust off the book in the table. He could not help feeling chills encase his body as he stared at the familiar cover. He turned and looked at the bookcase.
As he walked besides it, he stretched and felt the books with his fingers; he looked around walking through the room, feeling the heavy covers. There was one that caught his eye, so he pulled it out. This one seemed new.
He had never seen it before. Merlin gazed at the cover of fine leather and read out of it.
A physician's Legacy; it said. He opened it slowly and gasped when he saw Gaius' handsomely untidy tiny handwriting. The old man had been busy. Merlin stared adoringly at the hand made drawings and trailed them with his hand.
He passed through title to title; Affanc disease. Healing small cuts. Viper venom. Finding the Mortaeus Flower. Healing Magical burns. Serkets and their sting.
It did not matter, Lot had not arrived yet. He had time to spare…
He sat at the chair and read, the whole book seemed to speak of magic, healing and healing with Magic. And Merlin looked on and on, smiling as he saw the drawings made by an obviously steady hand.
The book was long and he took hours in barely looking it. He had hours, not weeks, he could not truly read it all.
The book smelled strongly. It smelled of Gaius and fresh ink, it was obvious that the Old Wizard was choosing to leave knowledge, and he was doing so in a more lasting quality than mere words.
And as Merlin smiled he put the last page through, there was much he could learn out of this book, later on.
He grinned ever strongly as he looked at the table and he closed Gaius' legacy. He grimaced when the tank of leeches came into view.
How many times had he cleaned it? The worst smell in the world, as it turned out.
It also seemed Gaius had a new helper, it seemed, as it now lay somewhat clean. Merlin, himself, was adamant however, he would have done a better job himself.
He smiled, a sad wistful little grin. Merlin stared at the book, and saw a small note on the back of the last page, he had just read. For Merlin.
Merlin's throat ached and he felt his eyes fill with unshed tears.
"Merlin?" A voice said, a familiar one. The warlock felt a powerful spasm of overfilling grief and happiness. As he stared at the wizard in front of him, Merlin felt more relaxed and at ease that he had been in years.
He could feel Gaius' magic in the physician's aura, and he felt it soft, steady and helpful. Goodness and some grief lay with Gaius right then.
Merlin was overwhelmed by sadness, he looked and saw more. Gaius had always been somewhat old. But now? The man held himself with a walking stick, he was hunched and it barely helped him; he had aged twenty years instead of four since the Warlock had last saw him.
His hair, usually white, was now going balding; silver strands that ended on an empty batch. The physician had also a number of wrinkles, and they all ended or began on the eyes and mouth.
But he was recognizable, too. Gaius had but one feature which had not changed. The greyish-blue eyes. Full of knowledge, wisdom, mercy, love…
…So full of Gaius, Merlin thought.
"Merlin?" The physician coughed, looking up at the tall man with black-hair and long facial hair. He could recognize Merlin in the noble-dressed man in front of him, but he also saw Dragoon.
"Gaius." The immortal whispered, touched in the heart by barely looking at the Wizard. "Oh, Gaius!" He ran to the old man and pulled him into a hug. The old man chuckled.
"Merlin, you have grown." The older man mumbled.
The sorcerer shook his head, stopping a stray tear, with the back of his hand. "It would seem that way, but it is not the case." He said. The old man's eyes softened, "Oh my boy, I wished I could spare you the pain."
"You knew?" Merlin mumbled, eyes wide; he had just realize the meaning of the man's words. He tried not to sound accusative… It was not the Physician to be blamed. Right?
"I wanted to protect you." Gaius answered, limping into the chair. In which Merlin help him sit. "You should have grown happy and somewhat unaware of this future…"
"Why did you not tell me?" Merlin asked.
"This future, it was your right not to know about it." He said, sadness on his eyes. "It was your right. I owed you that."
Merlin shook his head. "No Gaius, you do not owe me anything… I owe you everything." Gaius shook his head back, and Merlin hugged him. They clinged to one another, and Merlin felt guilt.
He now knew for Gwen, Llacheou, Loholt and Gaius. That he should have been here, all this time. "You said future…" Merlin mumbled, whispering to his guardian's ear. "What future, Gaius?"
Gaius sighed, looking even older, tired.
"A long and sad one for you, my boy." The old man said. "One you cannot escape from, I am afraid." He continued, looking a tad depressed. "One you cannot leave behind."
But Merlin, would try. He would try to leave most sadness behind.
Morgana smiled. "Where were you?" She whispered. Merlin stared at her, his shoulder lifted up in surrender, he looked like a noble, wearing fine robes, unlike his Emrys ones.
He also seemed to be using some sort of magical disguise, but it was not potion made, so the priestess saw right through that. Unless it was a potion, it practically had no effect on her, at all.
And Merlin had not used a potion for a decade or a bit more. Not since he began needing to turn into Emrys once and again every day.
"With Gaius." He answered. Walking to look through the balcony, standing next to her. So, the old physician was still alive? She would not know anyway, it was not like Merlin and she talked about Camelot. In fact, they rarely talked at all. Merlin looked at her. "He sends his greetings."
Of anything. Their conversations consisted mostly of 'Breakfast is done.', 'I am off.', 'I never asked the goddess to be punished with your presence!' & 'Hello, Bye.' They never did discuss anything, and when they did, they always ended up rebuilding the manor.
She flinched, staring at him. "You… told him of me?" Her slightly fake smile, fluttered of his mouth.
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Yes. But he would have found out anyway." He pointed out.
Morgana breathed loudly. Not knowing exactly why it upsetted her. "Still." The priestess hissed. "You could have asked me." The whole lot of the Camelotians knew about her, it was only logical that Gaius would then know as well.
She felt nothing for the old man, but he knowing her presence was there annoyed her terribly. And she was also afraid, Gaius had dealt with Morgause. Broken her… She doubted how powerful he was…
"Are you going to make a big deal out of this?" He snorted. Looking at her in a very bored and annoyed glance. That infuriated her even more, these things were not his to tell.
"I dunno. Should I?" She asked sarcastically. Both of them were feeling each other's annoyance. It edged her on, after all, he had no right to be annoyed.
It was he who had been divulging HER secrets. Not that they had much secrecy to begin with. "I would say no." Merlin groaned angrily. "But you would never listen, anyhow."
Her eyes narrowed. "Do not start with me EMRYS!"
His narrowed right back. "I am not starting anything, LE FAY!"
Morgana growled, animalistic-like and pulled him by the robe, pulling it up in threat. How dare he use THAT title? Merlin should have known better than to antagonize her. As Morgana had begun thinking some spells she was sure Morgause would approve.
"Woah!" A voice muttered Morgana felt wild annoyance, if it was Llacheou again; she would turn the brat into a bug whether Merlin was there or not, whether he was in agreement or not. She turned back to glare at the boy, but it was not the prince anyway. "What is going on?" Gwen demanded, pulling them off each other.
Subsequently the Queen crossed her arms, looking at them both as a mother did when the child was petulant. She did that quite often with Llacheou, but she had done it even more so with Loholt.
Merlin knew all of that very well. He had been there, he had come back to tutor them, he disagreed about it with Gwen then. And he did it still.
Llacheou and Loholt had deserved a real tutor; they had needed one with experience. But Gwen had insisted that she wanted Merlin.
You know enough. She had said then. You must teach my sons wisdom, I will do the rest.
He had learned quite a bit, in his long life. But not enough Geography and Politics to be a royal tutor, he could not teach them what princes needed to know. But Gwen was unrelenting. So he came over soon enough…
And when he saw Arthur's twins, he could not help it, the boys had stolen his heart. It was not like Morgana would miss him, not at all. She would be very glad to be on her own, she liked her loneliness. Much more than she liked him, anyway.
So he had come to Camelot, and every three days he taught them, read to them, told them Llacheou and Loholt about Arthur, taught them all he knew, all he could.
Morgana had begged him, or rather ordered him; to keep her existence as a well-kept secret. So he had done it, for the first thirteen years of Gwen's boys, all those years he had been there; Morgana had been hidden.
So, just like that Merlin could basically know what Guinevere was thinking. And anyway, it would not be like Gwen could ground them anyway.
"You better watch what you say, Emrys." Morgana whispered, smiling at him with a sweet and fake smile. She then pushed him hard.
Gwen looked annoyed at them.
She seemed to understand their respective angers. "Merlin, perhaps, you would take a look at the defenses for me?" Merlin opened his mouth to protest. But seeing Guinevere's look he nodded and turned away to leave.
Morgana smiled triumphantly, before following him to the room. "Hey, Merlin?" She laughed as he turned violently to glare at her. Gwen sighed, knowing full well what was about to happened. "I win."
Merlin snorted and began yelling at her. Gwen cocked her head when Morgana yelled back. Shaking it promptly.
And turning the Queen left, ignoring the hateful remarks and obscenities. Smiling just gently with a thought on her head…
Like a married couple.
Guilt. Nothing was worse; Llacheou decided, Nothing ate you up whole as IT did. Nothing. He walked through the marketplace, trying not to be seen. Merlin would berate him to no end should he know.
He had known Merlin since before he could remember, when the Wizard came and began teaching them both. Nothing magical, even when Loholt seemed to possess some aptitude to it.
His own grandson, had Uther known would had been rolling on his grave. But Merlin kept his brother away from spells, incantations and even potions.
He taught them values and how to rule by their father's legacy. Any questions about Magic went unanswered, no matter how much his younger fool of a twin badgered their tutor.
Since he could remember, he and his brother had idolized their father. They had not known him, except for Merlin's stories and their mother's remarks. They had then begun making their own tales, their own fights and adventures.
And they played the off, too, between each other only. A secret for brothers alone.
They ran Gaius ragged asking questions about Arthur and Merlin, a dynamic duo, of a sort. The greatest warrior and the most powerful Sorcerer.
Arthur had been a hero, but Llacheou… He was no hero, he did not deserve the title of crown prince, he was a failure.
His father, legendary King Arthur, would be so disappointed in the end.
Llacheou felt like such a Hypocritical failure. He missed Loholt, badly, he missed his twin. Pathetic, isn't it? He thought. He may not have wielded his blade against him, but he all but killed Loholt.
As far as Llacheou was concerned, he deserved to be looked down. Such a mighty failure for a prince. "Llacheou?"
The prince looked back, staring at Guinevere. "Mother?" He asked, muttering, "Why are you here? The people-?" He cleaned the tears from his eyes, with the corner of his hand.
Gwen sighed, seating on a rock in front of a garden, chair and beckoned him to seat next to her. He cleaned the tears from his eyes, with the corner of his hand.
"I will not be their Queen much longer." She answered. Edging towards the teenager. "And now, my boy needs me more." He sat down, and she rubbed her son's cheek.
"Did I murderer my brother?" He whispered without thinking; her eyes widened. She seemed more shocked than angry or upset, knowing her that would come later.
"How can you say such things?" She demanded, pain in her voice.
He would not stop any more tears from falling, so he stared down, filling with regret and self-loathing, unwilling to meet her eyes. The Queen grasped his hand. "Mother, I am so sorry." She wondered what Arthur would have done… Had she failed him?
"You cannot blame yourself… Loholt had no right to take the throne, and lest the way he did." She grabbed his cheek.
"I killed him…" He gasped, blinking back tears. "I killed my brother."
"No. I did." She said. "I failed him." Her voice faltered, breaking at the end. But she seemed to compose fast enough, unwilling to crash down in front of her son. He for an instance
His lip quivered, so she edged forward pulling him into a hug when his first sob came. He melted into her, finally broken. She tried her best to calm her son, whispering calm into his right ear.
Sometimes she forgot that he was just a boy, Arthur's son, but barely more than a child anyhow. He had the right to show fragility, to need his mother.
But children did not survive war. They were left behind.
1. Ærne þaes windbland ond átæsan hine. Translated as: Glide through the harsh wind and strike him.
A'N. Done. Expect next chapter in a short while… Hope you enjoy it!
There it is the adapted chapters have been posted, the new one is right here. I hope you stayed with me. As promised, I finished early so I posted them sooner. Expect the chapter soon. Though I have barely begun with it...