I was going to share this on my next day off but it's shorter than I thought, so have it three days early. Happy New Year! :)
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The Curse of Confessions
Merlyn startled awake with the touch of a wet cloth upon her forehead and hastily tried to sit up. Gentle hands halted her movement and she hissed as her shoulder protested sharply.
"Easy, Merlyn," soothed Gwen, calloused hand touching her cheek. "You dislocated your shoulder and bumped your head."
The black-haired girl opened her eyes, wincing as light stabbed into her skull. Gwen hovered beside her, gentle features pinched with stress. Her curly hair was dishevelled and sprinkled grey with dust.
"It feels like I did more than bump," she mumbled hoarsely, lifting a hand to feel the damage but the maid captured her hand before she could reach it and placed it back over her belly. "How did…?" memories returned and Merlyn gasped, grabbing Gwen's arm. "Who found me?" she breathed. "Who carried me here?" she peered at their surroundings, wondering where 'here' was.
She recognised it as the side chamber off the main entrance to the castle, used after Valiant's assault on the King. There were several cot-beds set up with injured people on them, most notably, Arthur and Lancelot, the latter swaying dazedly under Gaius' hands while the former bore a bloody bandage over the left side of his chest. Arthur's eyes locked on her own across the room before he swiftly returned his attention to his father; his face was unreadable.
She glanced down but saw she wore only her dirtied and torn work dress – no red cloak to be seen.
"Arthur brought you in with his knights," Gwen explained, slightly alarmed at Merlyn's panic. "Why?"
"Gwen," she breathed, heart in her throat. "I was wearing my Emrys cloak."
The maid blanched and glanced towards the prince. "Perhaps Lancelot found you first," she said hopefully. "I do not think the prince would be so calm if he had just discovered your identity."
Merlyn also looked towards Arthur. "True," she murmured but her heartbeat was thrumming inside her chest. Perhaps he was saving his ire for after the city was no longer in jeopardy. Perhaps the reality had not yet sunk into his brain. Perhaps –
The building shook and dust rained down. There were several whimpers and all eyes turned skyward but the ceiling did not crack. Gaius swept to her side and Gwen moved back.
"I must go check on Lancelot," she said, eyes already focused on her fiancé. Merlyn waved her away, her own gaze intent on her guardian.
"Gaius," she whispered, clasping his hand and using it to sit up. "Ooh," she groaned as the world spun and she leant forward to rest against the old man's shoulder. When the stabbing pain in her head had dulled, she said, "Gaius, I was wearing my cloak when I was knocked out." The old man froze, and she pulled back to see his wide eyes. She gulped. "I know not who stripped me of it; Lancelot… or Arthur."
Gaius glanced over her shoulder to the gathered knights and murmured, "Lancelot is in not fit state to recall anything. He is severely concussed." There was the sound of heaving and Merlyn looked back to see Lancelot bowed over a pail held by Knight Pellinor. Gwen had a damp cloth resting over the nape of his neck, her features pinched in worry.
The castle trembled again and Merlyn felt the destructive magic in the air, digging itself into the very foundation of the castle like an aggressive strangler vine. It tasted acidic on her tongue.
"Sigan must be stopped, Gaius," she said, tilting her head to capture his attention. "I must find a way to stop him."
The old man shook his head, craggy features pinched in anxiety. "Merlyn, Sigan's power is far beyond yours."
"I have no choice!" she retorted. "I cannot stand back and watch as he desolates this whole city. What of the people dying out there right now? Of Arthur, who will not let Camelot fall before he does."
Gaius sighed, bowing his head before he said quietly, "There is only one alive who is old enough to give us the answers we need."
She ducked her head to meet his eyes, hope rising in her heart. "Who do you mean?" she asked.
He kept her gaze as he said, "The Great Dragon."
She leant back in surprise. She knew he knew the dragon lived under Camelot, but she hadn't realised he knew she was on friendly terms with him. "The Great Dragon is mired in resentment and loneliness," she warned. "Begging him for favours is a dangerous notion right now."
"I am not sure that you have much of a choice, Merlyn," Gaius pointed out and the black-haired girl conceded it as the earth rumbled again and a sharp crack was heard. Everyone looked towards the outer wall and saw a hairline fracture had split the once-unmarred stone.
Arthur stood abruptly and his voice was heard clearly as he told his father, "It is my duty to Camelot – and to myself!"
He marched towards the door, loyal knights following in his wake. Lancelot tried to stand but Gwen shoved him back down and put her hands on her hips. Merlyn also stood, steadier than her brown-haired friend, and slipped out the back door as Gwen's scolding tone carried out. Her voice soon faded as the black-haired girl sprinted towards the dungeons.
There were no patrols in the corridors and no sentry guarding the entrance to the dragon's lair, so Merlyn had a clear path. She thought it a little negligent for castle security but understood how one's fear could drive them to abandon post.
She entered the cavern in record time and shouted into the darkness, "Dragon!"
She had to learn his name. It was simply rude now, not to know.
"Hello?" she called when there was no answer. "Please, I need your help!"
A heavy chain rattled in the distance and the Great Dragon swooped from the heights to blast her with a wave of air as he slowed his landing. Her balance was already unsteady, and the gale of wind knocked her on her rear. The scaled beast did not look apologetic as he tucked his wings to his side, but she buried her annoyance for more important things.
"What need have you for me now, witch?" he asked, his tone cold. Merlyn winced, knowing her accusations at their previous meeting, on his bitterness and resentment, had struck deeply and truly. She also knew that she, herself, would be angry at only being visited at times of great need, as if she wasn't worth the time for her own merits. But she didn't have time to be delicate.
"Cornelius Sigan has returned, possessing another's body in order to lay waste to Camelot. I do not know how to stop him, for he has already conquered death."
"One does not conquer death, Merlyn," the dragon said, head held high. "He merely cheats it. Everything turns to dust in the end."
"Well he has cheated it," Merlyn said, irritated. "And I need to know how to stop him."
"To defeat Sigan, you will need a spell more powerful than anything you know," he explained, and she nodded her head.
"Please, I have to try. Arthur is out there right now."
"Very well," the dragon dipped his head in close, breath a furnace against Merlyn's skin. "But you must give me something in return."
Wariness slid across her mind, residue left in its wake like slime. He had never bartered before. "What do you request?" she asked.
"A promise," he breathed and sweat broke out over her body under the onslaught of hot air.
"A promise?" she repeated, blinking her dry eyes.
"That one day you will free me," he finished and moved his head away to stare down at her haughtily from his great height. She frowned, perplexed.
"I have always planned to free you," she said. "Despite your… issues, I would not leave you caged as you have been. That is what Albion is about."
"Albion is many years away, and still may not come to pass." He tilted his head, watching her keenly from one golden eye. "I want your oath to release me at a time of my choosing."
"That's…" she hesitated on the word ludicrous. It was a dangerous deal, giving him all the power. But it was also a show of trust in her values. He was taking her on her word when, to some, words were nothing but lies to be weaved.
She asked, "If I release you, what will you do?"
His eyes narrowed, and he said sharply, "That is not your concern."
The cavern rumbled, and fine rubble rained in front of the ledge like a curtain. She gnashed her teeth. There wasn't enough time to think!
"Can you promise not to attack Camelot when you are freed?" she asked, desperation driving her onwards. "If Uther is still King and Albion does not yet exist, can you promise not to besiege her walls?"
The dragon stared at her, his alien features impossible to decipher. Finally, he said, "I will not besiege her walls."
She let out a small breath, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "Thank you," she sighed, closing her eyes. "Then I promise to free you when you wish it to be so."
The dragon bowed his head and instructed in a deep voice, "Close your eyes and open your mind."
She did so, feeling a little rushed in trying to release her magical awareness, but as a silken touch caressed her body, she felt knowledge slot into place in her mind as if it had always been there – like an infant recognising their hands for the first time. The magical touch felt like Morgana's summer sheets, solid liquid sliding over her skin, cool and soft like silk. But it had nothing on the hot starburst of information that scorched her thoughts.
She opened her eyes and felt the tell-tale heat over her irises as her magic responded to the input. The dragon said, drawing her back to reality, "Few have ever been gifted such knowledge. Use it wisely."
"I will," she promised, and dashed back up the dark tunnel.
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She sprinted across the smoky courtyard, the dark of night laying its blanket across the city. Rubble and bodies lay scattered over the cobblestones, but Merlyn didn't pause to check them, refusing to see their faces lest she recognise one. All was silent, neither knight nor gargoyles present, though she could hear the faint flap of large bat-wings overhead. Smoke must be obscuring her from their sight, thick and choking as it was blowing across the square.
She held her sleeve to her mouth and dashed under the arch to the drawbridge but let out a muffled scream when she was abruptly wrenched to the side. She flailed and would have fallen, had the other person not spun her and slammed her against the bottom of the rampart. The wind was knocked from her lungs, but her inhale stuttered when a blade was pressed against her throat.
She recognised Arthur when he leaned in close. His blue irises were hard as stone and his sclera bloodshot from the smoke. She saw the moment he recognised her. And the moment he hesitated to remove his sword.
Her heart shattered, and the devastation must have shown on her face, for he quickly stepped back and demanded, "What are you doing here?"
She lifted a hand to her neck, tucking her chin as she rubbed the skin, trying to rid the memory of cold steel. "I –" she said, clearing her voice as it warbled and betrayed her distress. "I want to help."
Arthur made a faint noise in the back of his throat and turned away. "Get out of here, Merlyn, before you get yourself killed."
She clenched her fists but was saved from replying by the appearance of a gargoyle. It thumped down loudly, though still unseen through the smokescreen, and gave a screech as it marched closer, clearly sensing where they were. Arthur herded her backwards, keeping his weapon bared before him, but another gargoyle-shaped shadow flapped overhead to land on their other side, wing beats blowing away much of the gusting smoke as it cut them off.
She spun to face it, unsure of his plan (if he had one), and called back worriedly, "Arthur…"
"I know," he said tightly then lunged at his adversary, landing a blow that had it screaming and crumbling to dust.
Oh, right, Merlyn thought to herself. Burnished sword.
"Move!" Arthur shouted, shoving her aside as her gargoyle leapt forward. The prince took the hit meant for her and went flying across the courtyard, smacking his head on the cobblestones with a loud crack.
"No!" Merlyn cried, hoping he was only unconscious. She pushed herself to her feet and shoved her palm out. "Astrice!" she hissed, and the creature blasted into rubble.
She ran to Arthur's side, squatting down to check his breathing and pulse. She let out a long breath when they were both present. "Arthur," she murmured, touching his cheek as her other brushed around his head to find the bump.
"Who would've believed it?" Sigan said in Cedric's voice, strolling out of the shadows like he belonged there. He had attired himself in a crow's-feather cloak; ugly and ostentatious, just like the man himself. "You, a sorceress, and a powerful one."
"I will not let you hurt him," she growled, bowing over Arthur's body like she could physically shield him.
Sigan raised his eyebrows. "And you are going to stop me?" he asked, amusement clear in his tone.
She glowered and rose to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. "I will stop you," she promised.
The greedy sorcerer shook his head, incredulity on his face. "He does not deserve your loyalty. He treats you like a slave."
The truth of that stabbed in her heart but she buried it forcefully, focusing on the positives, just as Gaius advised when she had said those very same words. She lifted her chin proudly.
"You are a relic of a time long passed," she said. "The future is coming and with it, a golden age for all people, magical and not."
"That is my vision," Sigan implored, sliding closer. "I only want the world to see our greatness. To have people know us for who we are. Look inside yourself, Merlyn. You have yet to discover your true power, wasting away at the feet of a royal who cast you aside without a moment's thought. You are meant for more than this."
Merlyn shook her head. He was a very good manipulator, twisting the truth in his favour so the words hit deeply. She argued, "This is the way it has to be. Progress is made through adversity."
"But it must hurt so much to be so put upon," he murmured softly. "So overlooked, when all the while you have such power."
She glared at him. "It is difficult to not be able to work openly, to not help as much as I could, were I not hiding myself away, but I do not beg for recognition for recognition's sake. Only an arrogant man would do that."
The jab was clear and Sigan's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "If you join me, we can rule over this land together. Arthur will know you – he will tremble at your voice, kneel at your feet."
"That is not what I want," she refused. "That is not what Albion will be."
"You would rather be a servant, belittled, unappreciated, cast aside?"
She stood proudly. "Better to serve a good man than to rule with an evil one."
He glowered at her. "So be it," he declared. "If you will not join me, I will become you and your power will be harnessed to my will."
Cedric's body convulsed and his head turned to the right until there was a sharp snap as his neck broke. Merlyn blanched, sickened by the horrid sound. He collapsed, dead, and soft blue mist began to leak from his mouth, ears and nose, slithering like an opaque serpent across the cobbles. Merlyn braced herself, calming her rapid breaths. This was what she wanted. This was planned.
"Ic thin sawol her beluce," the mist snaked up her legs, rising behind her like a cobra prepared to strike. "Abide thaet ic the alyse!"
She choked, Sigan's essence like an inferno as it forced its way down her throat. She fell to her knees, head turned to the heavens as the flame spread through her veins and into her brain, obliterating everything except the desperation to be rid of the pain.
She screamed, but she no longer had control of her mouth. She tried to grab her head, but her arms did not obey her. She fell forward, hands braced beside Arthur's body before strength left her completely and she dropped, face first, onto his armoured torso.
Her consciousness imploded.
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Sigan was defeated, trapped in his sceptre once more. The death toll was high, dozens of casualties all over the city, bodies clumped together of families and friends who had tried to protect each other. The gravediggers were forced to build a new cemetery and the King had it ornamented with a large, white-stone obelisk at the arch entrance. Engraved was a phrase; 'Remember the sacrifice in the war against Magic; Remember those that were slain by Evil.'
Merlyn didn't visit.
Reparations in the city began immediately. The citadel's infrastructure was sound, but damage had been done to the stone, and the King wanted the incident put away as quickly as possible. Another group of builders set upon the markets and lower town, and Merlyn was glad that the King was not leaving the citizens bereft of shelter. It was moments like this that reminded her that Uther may be biased but he cared for his people.
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Two days passed before Arthur summoned Merlyn. She had been ordered to aid Gaius with the many wounded while Arthur had been busy organising repairs and temporary shelters for the homeless. They had barely seen each other in passing, both returning at odd hours in the night. But though she had been busy (and honestly relieved not to have to see the prince), it did not stop her from fretting.
Lancelot remembered nothing of the attack, the knock to his head laying him low for several days, but he assured her that it must have been he who removed her cloak as neither the prince nor the knights were crying witch. Merlyn wished it were so, but the memory of a cold blade pressed to her skin had her dreading otherwise.
When a guard appeared in Gaius' chamber, with a missive for her to meet the prince, her heart skipped a beat and she felt distinctly ill. Was this it? Was she about to be ousted as a sorcerer?
"Merlyn," said Arthur when she ducked inside his chambers. He wore chainmail with his sword strapped to his waist, clearly preparing to head out, but he had waited at the window for her to appear. She tucked her hands together and tried not to bow her shoulders with unease. His impassive stare wasn't helping.
"Sire," she replied. "You wish to see me."
"I do," he said and rested one hand on the hilt of his sword. "It seems you were correct in your assumption of Sigan's return… and in Cedric's duplicity."
"So you – you believe me now?" she clarified, a little surprised he would even bring it up. Considering his recent attitude, Merlyn expected him to simply bury the incident and move on.
"It would be foolish not to see the truth before me," he said then pressed his lips tightly together before adding sourly, "And I've done enough of that to last a life time."
She frowned a little in confusion, unsure of his meaning. "You cannot blame yourself for being duped, sire. You are trusting and see the best in people." She twisted her face in apprehension as she continued, "Insight comes with experience, but it is not bad to expect everyone to act as nobly as you."
Arthur turned away and started laughing – a little hysterically – with his head bowed and shoulders shaking. Merlyn was taken aback at the odd reaction and took a hesitant step forward. "Sire?" she asked. "Are you well?"
He straightened up and took a deep, settling sigh before saying to the window, "I just find it ironic that you would speak so to me."
He turned around, the lingering humour on his face a mask for a deep rage. Alarm swept through her belly like she'd missed a step.
"What… what do you mean?"
"Do not pretend you do not know!" he snarled, dropping his façade. His hand was tight around his sword hilt, though he did not draw. "Not now. Not when I finally know the truth."
She gulped, feeling a little unsteady, like the earth had tilted sideways and gravity wasn't holding her properly. She stared at his fist, hand creeping up to cover her throat. "I'm… I don't – I don't understand…"
He stepped forward, face a dark cloud of emotion. "Do not play with me, Merlyn. I know who you are – what you are. You have betrayed me and this kingdom, but I will not have you deceive me any longer! You are a sorceress! Say it."
She stared at him, the light-headedness of blood draining from her face making her stagger. Reality fuzzed out of focus and her vision stretched oddly. A hand grabbed her upper arm tightly and Arthur's angry face moved close, filling her sight. "Say. It." he growled.
"I-I c-cannot –"
He made a noise of disgust and pushed her away, spinning on his heel as she stumbled and fell on her backside. She landed hard but was unable to register the pain. Her wide eyes were locked on the prince's pacing body, brain empty of all thought except for two words echoing cavernously in her consciousness.
He knew.
He knew.
He knew.
A loud ringing drowned out her hearing, ears tolling with a mental scream. Run away, her instincts shrieked. Save yourself.
But how could she?
Arthur was the key to the future of Albion. She was supposed to be his guide and protector. How could she abandon that? How could she throw away everything she'd worked so hard for; that the magical world was begging to be done?
"I order you to cease and desist," Arthur snapped, and Merlyn looked up to see him several paces away, half-turned to face her. His hand still rested around his sheathed weapon and she wondered if it was for reassurance lest she attack, or in indecisiveness on whether to behead her right then and there.
"Stop?" she said dumbly.
"Yes," he gritted out "You have been a good and loyal servant, so I give you this one chance to atone. My father need never hear of your exploits if you abstain immediately."
She shook her head slowly in disbelief, eyes wide on the prince. "Arthur," she whispered hoarsely. "I… I cannot."
He stared at her, hurt flashing across his face before anger took hold once more.
"You would deny my request?" he demanded. "I show you this act of mercy by not turning you over immediately, yet you refuse to obey me?"
"No!" she exclaimed, clambering onto her knees but feeling it unwise to rise further. "I don't want to refuse you, but I cannot stop using my magic. I have tried before, in the past, but I fail."
"Because you are not dedicated enough!" he snapped. "Magic is a study; a dark art. You are merely too lazy to return to the ways of the common people."
"I am not!" she argued. "You don't understand me – it is not a choice of my own. I am unable to control it enough to stop. It runs through my veins like blood."
"All the more reason to forgo its power. Magic corrupts, Merlyn, and you are playing with things beyond you. If you do not desist then I will be forced to act, and I will turn you over for execution." He stared at her indecipherably for a long moment before marching towards the door.
He was too far away for Merlyn to grab his hand or his trousers so she cried at his back, "Wait! Please don't do this! It's not my choice! I didn't ask for this. Please, please stop!"
He halted with his hand on the door handle and said coldly over his shoulder, "I didn't ask for my servant to be a traitorous sorceress either, but we do not always get what we want."
"I-I'm not a –" Arthur marched out the door and Merlyn slumped in defeat, feeling like her whole world was crashing down around her. "I'm not a sorceress. I'm a witch," she whispered to the empty room. She bowed her head, loose hair falling over her face.
So now he knows me.
And still, he hates.
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Meanwhile, Arthur made it to a disused wing before his temper got the best of him.
He let loose a roar of rage and swept an empty vase and fruit bowl off a table within an unoccupied room, the loud clatter and smash not enough to sate his wrath. So he went at the wooden table itself with his sword, hacking at it like he was bearing a wood-axe instead of a knight's weapon. Woodchips flicked through the air until, with a mighty cleave to its centre, the table cracked and folded inwards, as broken and useless as he felt right now.
He stepped back, breath heavy and hitched, which he blamed entirely on his actions and none on his emotions. The same with the burning in his eyes.
But, god… that look on her face. The terror. The desperation. The realisation that he knew her dirty little secret.
He scrubbed at his face and sheathed his sword. How could she think to deny his order? What right did she have to refuse him? He wasn't the one deceiving those who cared for him. He wasn't the one who was risking his very soul for a power trip!
Was it already too late? Was she already twisted and demented? Perhaps that was why she denied him; her mind was no longer sound, for what sane person would tell the prince no to his face when the only other option was their death? And everybody knew that sorcerers were anything but rational simply by the evidence of history.
He took a step back and sighed, eyeing the destruction. He needed to leave before any servants or guards investigated the noises he'd made. After all, empty hallways echoed, and he hadn't exactly aimed to be quiet.
Damn it! But he didn't want to face Merlyn again. She had robbed him of the security of his chambers; of his security and trust in anything related to her. Because, who knew, perhaps she was just another evil sorcerer bent on creating chaos.
But she had to have good intentions, for it had been he who had shed her of the red cloak during Sigan's attack. It had been he who realised that she was the one who had saved him several times in disguise – and, perhaps, several more he knew not. Why would she risk herself if only to kill him in the end?
Perhaps… perhaps she wanted the throne? Because there was no way she could truly care for the son of the king who hunted her kind. Yet she flirted, and blushed, and even kissed him.
Well. He had kissed her – but she'd responded quite avidly. And a sorcerer wouldn't do that unless she had plans to seduce him.
He felt dirty. Used. Betrayed.
But most of all, confused.
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So.. I hope the small insight into Arthur's mind relieves some of that spiking irritation I know you all feel for him right now, lol. To change one's fundamental perspectives is a massive endeavour that requires an open mind, willingness to see, and objectivity. Arthur has none of these and all of his father's stubbornness.
Thanks so much for the reviews, favs and follows. It's so great to see this story capturing people's attention. :D
P.S. I had a review on AO3 telling me they're doing art for this work. Please, if you do, tell me where so I can find a way to link it. It simply amazes me that my story has inspired someone to create - it's so fabulous, and exactly what art should be about; expression and stimulation. I definitely love being a part of it.
Lots of love in the new year!