Into the depths of the lake, the sword disappeared. With it, the land of myth and the time of magic faded away into legend.
…
As Merlin sucked in air, his breath rattled in his chest.
Even over the beating of their horses' hooves, Arthur could hear it.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Too shallow.
They — Merlin — were running out of time.
If they didn't make it to the lake soon, Arthur realized, Merlin was going to die.
…
"I'm afraid I won't be coming with you. Not this time."
An urgent errand for Gaius? Vital supplies?
Arthur didn't understand.
Merlin always came with him — in fact, he had a hard time convincing Merlin to stay where he was supposed to be in safety.
"Yes. It's…" Merlin searched for the words.
Arthur didn't want to hear them. "No, no. It's fine. I understand."
But he didn't understand. Through the darkest hours, the most perilous dangers, Merlin never left him. He needed Merlin there. He couldn't imagine going through this without Merlin at his side.
Why was Merlin deserting him now?
"You know, Merlin...all those jokes about you being a coward…" His heart felt like a rock in his chest, pulling him towards the ground.
"I never really meant any of them. I guess I was wrong."
He tried to ignore the mask that slipped from Merlin's face for one quick moment.
…
The sights and smells of battle filled Arthur's nostrils and eyes.
Everywhere Arthur turned, another Saxon was waiting for him.
His forehead was sweaty, his arms were growing weak, and his knees wanted to buckle from underneath him, but he raised his sword again to fend off another attack.
They were running towards him, yelling gutterly — too many for him to take on by himself, but he had to.
He had to.
He was tired.
On the back of his neck and his arms, his skin prickled for a second.
The world flashed white.
Before they could touch him, all of the men flew backwards.
He couldn't believe it.
As a dragon screeched, he turned his head upwards. Against the darkened sky, a figure stood. It raised a staff, and lightning struck the earth once more.
In Arthur, hope was rekindled.
"For the love of Camelot!" he roared.
…
"You gave me no choice."
A bloody sword in hand, Modred stood over Merlin. He said something else, but Arthur couldn't make it out over the pounding of blood in his ears.
As he took in the sight of Merlin's pale face, the blossoming patch on his manservant's stomach, and the red substance on his fingers, Arthur's world slowed.
He was too late.
Despite Mordred's gloating, a triumphant smile spread across Merlin's face. His eyes met Arthur's. "Better me...than him."
"No."
Not Merlin.
Not Merlin.
He would have rather Merlin stayed behind than this.
Mordred was turning toward Arthur, raising his sword.
But he didn't have a chance.
Arthur's blade slid through his chest like a butter knife.
…
"Take me with you, please."
Merlin must be out of his mind, Arthur thought, because there was no way he could make it back to Camelot.
Not like that.
"You would die, Merlin."
"But you don't understand. Please, Arthur."
Arthur understood all too well. He'd known no other man to survive the dorocha. Merlin was a miracle, but even he was fading.
If they didn't reach Camelot and Gaius, he wouldn't last much longer.
Only Merlin would insist on accompanying him while being half-dead and hardly able to move more than his head.
"Do you ever do as you're told?"
Lancelot departed, and the quest continued — without Merlin.
(At least, for a little while, because Merlin was like a toe fungus you couldn't quite get rid of.)
(Arthur was glad.)
…
"The lake. If you can get him to the lake, the lady who dwells in it may be able to heal him."
As soon as he heard the words, Arthur mounted his horse.
…
Merlin was caked in mud from head to foot until the only visible part of him was his teeth.
Very much alive, he grinned.
Arthur laughed. He couldn't believe it — the last time he saw Merlin, he had been dying, and rocks had cut the two of them off from each other.
"Merlin! I thought we'd lost you!
…
The wound wouldn't stop bleeding. When they stopped to let Merlin rest, Arthur tried pressing on it, washing it out, cauterizing it with a blade hot from fire - all of it was to no use.
It wouldn't stop.
Merlin's life was slowly leaking out of him.
"Forged in dragon's breath," Merlin explained as he lay there, staring up at the sky. "Meant to…" For a second, he trailed off, his eyes losing their focus. Just as Arthur was about to slap him to make sure he stayed awake, his gaze zeroed in on Arthur. "I need to tell you something."
"Save your strength, Merlin."
"Arthur, please."
Even though worry coiled in Arthur's gut, Merlin's voice was too raw, too pleading for him to tell him to shut up. "All right. What is it?"
"I defeated the Saxons. The dragon."
Arthur pursed his lips. Merlin was delirious. The wound must have been taking over his mind-
Merlin's hand latched onto his wrist, and his eyes met Arthur, glittering. "It was me."
He was crying, Arthur realized.
"Don't be stupid, Merlin. Everything's going to be all right. We're...we're going to get you to the lake."
"I'm a sorcerer. I have magic."
"No."
"I have magic," Merlin repeated, trying to sit up. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.
Arthur pushed him back down. "You're...out of your mind, Merlin. Just rest. We're going to start moving again soon."
Too much distance. Too little time.
Merlin shook his head. He said something, but it was in a language Arthur didn't understand.
The dead fire sprung back to life.
Despite the heat of the flames, Arthur felt numb.
It was true.
Merlin was a sorcerer.
After all this time…
"I've only used it for you. To help Camelot. I would never use it to harm you."
"You're a sorcerer." Arthur couldn't believe his own words, but the burning fire was his proof. "After all these years…"
"Arthur-"
Wrenching his arm out of Merlin's grasp, Arthur stood. He kicked dirt over the fire, gathered their things, and helped Merlin back on the horse.
…
"Magic has no place in Camelot."
The memory rang in Arthur's head over and over again.
How many things had he missed?
How many times had Merlin used magic behind his back?
…
As the poison meant for Arthur ran through his system, Merlin twitched, spasmed, and groaned as he writhed on the bed. In his incoherence, he cried for his mother.
And Arthur knew that even though they had only known each other for a little while, he had to try to save Merlin's life — no matter his father's wishes.
…
On the horse beside him, Merlin was gasping for breath, groaning whenever the horse jolted his body.
He needed something — he needed a lot of things, but the only thing he could actually get from Merlin was water.
Up aheads, there was a woods, and Arthur turned his horse towards it.
The detour meant a small delay, but he couldn't listen to Merlin suffering if he could help alleviate it the tiniest bit.
"What...what are we doing?" Merlin asked as Arthur helped him off the horse and settled him against a tree, as though he would be doing anything.
"I'm going to get a little water. I'll be right back. Don't...don't move."
Merlin laughed.
The sound cut off as he groaned, clutching his side.
Arthur hurried.
When he returned from filling up his canteen with water for Merlin, his heart stopped.
A figure dressed in black was standing over Merlin, gloating.
"I won't let you die alone," she was saying, her voice cold, "I will stay and watch over you-"
Quietly, Arthur withdrew Excalibur.
"-until the wolves gorge on your carcass and-"
In surprise, Morgana gasped as the sword passed through her chest.
When Arthur yanked it out, she collapsed.
...
The horses were gone.
Without them, there was no way they could make it to the lake. Time was running out for Merlin, and all Arthur could do was pace.
"Do it."
Merlin opened his eyes to look at Arthur inquisitively.
"Use your magic. Save yourself."
"I...can't."
"Why not?" Arthur demanded.
"Dragon's breath," Merlin reminded him, holding a hand to his stomach. "I..can't…"
Arthur strode forward. He wasn't going to stand there and let him die, magic or no magic. He would drag Merlin if he had to. "We have to make it to the lake."
"No."
Arthur tried helping Merlin up, but Merlin cried out again.
More blood seeped through the front of his shirt, a thick wet puddle.
This wasn't right.
Even though he wasn't moving, Merlin cried out in pain.
When Arthur knelt next to him and checked his pulse, it was barely discernible against his clammy skin.
Arthur's throat closed in.
Not Merlin. Please, not Merlin.
Urgency was choking him. There was so much he needed to say.
Settling down on the ground, Arthur wrapped his arms around him. "Listen, Merlin. You are one of the bravest men I've ever met. Thank you for everything you've done. For me. For Camelot. All of it. For the kingdom you helped me build. Thank you."
"You'd have done it without me."
"No. No, I wouldn't have. And I still need your help, Merlin. I need you to stay."
A weak smile touched Merlin's pale face.
Please, Arthur begged. Please don't leave me.
In that moment, time stretched forever — one second was a thousand years and nothing at all at the same time.
Closing his eyes, Merlin let out a barely discernible sigh. "Goodbye, Arthur."
His breathing grew shallower. Underneath Arthur's arm, his chest started to still.
No. As tears dripped from his face onto Merlin's shirt, he tightened his grip around Merlin's body. "Blast it, Merlin! You can't say goodbye. You can't leave me!"
Merlin's eyes opened again for a second, and he gave Arthur a ghost of a smile.
…
"For once in your life, will you just do as you're told?"
…
Some stories say that if you stand on the banks of Lake Avalon, you can hear the last words of magic itself.
"You can't leave me!"
"When have I ever listened to you?"
But they're only stories.
