5 Times the Round Table Realized How Powerful Merlin Is
And One Time They Realized He Isn't All-Powerful
Of course, there had been Camlann.
The middle of the field had been cleared, but all around was rage and death. Bodies piled like hills, limbs crushed into the mud, blood flowing like water over the ruined earth of Camlann.
Mordred advanced on Arthur, sword held high, a manic triumph in his eyes. Arthur lay on the ground, hand pressed to a bleeding wound in his side, stone-faced.
A belt of thunder tore across the bloody plain of war. It was so loud men it knocked men over where they stood, burst their eardrums, jarred their bones. It was followed a second after by a flash of lightning, huge and terrible and too-close. It struck directly between Mordred and Arthur, and both men had to look away or fear becoming blinded. It filled the air with something astringent and burned.
In the place where it had struck the earth now stood a man. He wore a midnight blue cloak which hid his face, and he stood with square shoulders and steady gaze facing Mordred, with his back to Arthur.
"Emrys," Mordred said, and it sounded like an accusation.
"Stop this," the sorcerer commanded. His voice shook over the whole of the battlefield, and all around them, men let their weapons fall to their sides in wonder and fear.
And Arthur couldn't help but wince at the piercing recognition which lanced through him at the words.
"Arthur will die by my hand at Camlann," Mordred said, raising the sword once again. "It was decided for us all long ago. The fates ask of us what they will, and it is our domain to do as they say."
The sorcerer with the cloak laughed then, and the faces of the men of Camelot fell on their king. For they knew that voice as well as they knew Arthur's. They knew that laugh.
It shocked men of both sides for its tone. Not bitter, not serious, not derisive or pitying or cruel.
Carefree. Light.
"I've never been good at doing what I'm told, I'm afraid."
"Merlin," Arthur choked out.
Despite the soft volume of the words, the sorcerer's head cocked to the side. He had heard.
"I address the men in Morgana and Mordred's ranks now," Merlin said, his voice rising above any human volume to reverberate across the canyon and reach the bloodied men standing there. "Leave now and leave with your lives."
Men shifted on the balls of their feet, looking fearfully at the witch, her face contorted with inhuman rage, and her second-in-command, the violent and wrathful knight. Then their gaze turned back to the sorcerer. Above them, Morgana's dragon shrieked with shared rage.
"My forces answer only to me," Morgana told him, words laced with deadly venom. "And they will not fear just one man."
"But I am not just one man," Merlin responded.
Another bestial screech came from the sky then, accompanied by cracking thunder and flashes of lightning. The men on the field looked up to see, circling above the frame of the white dragon, a shadow of a beast looming through the clouds. As it descended, lightning burst and raced against its flanks.
The Great Dragon flew from the sky with a speed that should be impossible. It snapped at the white dragon, its mouth larger than the smaller beasts's entire torso, and tucked its wings to shoot toward the battlefield. As it approached, it opened its maw, huge teeth glinting fiercely against a suddenly glowing backdrop.
It stopped its descent with a burst of its leathery wings. It beat them against the ground as it lowered itself behind Merlin, placing its body once more between Modred and Morgana and the wounded king. It bent low over the sorcerer, almost as if protecting him, stretched its wings, and roared a flame of fire above the heads of the enemy troops.
"I will tell all of you again: leave now," Merlin commanded.
"No one will leave," Mordred said. "You cannot stop all of us. Arthur's death will be here, in this battle, no matter what you do."
"I can stop all of you," Merlin countered, and once again shocked his dumbfounded audience by sounding, of all things, sad. "I would prefer to not have to."
"Kill him," came Morgana's answer.
The men in most direct proximity edged closer to Merlin. A growl sounded low in the dragon's chest, its mouth opening again so flames licked the air above his warlock. Merlin dropped into a crouch, placing a hand on the ground.
"Hwamm*," Merlin said.
The earth beneath his feet split open. The sound of rocks tearing in two, of the earth being wrenched apart, filled the air. The warlock and his dragon took a few steps forward, moving as one, and as they did, the rip grew into a canyon behind them, running across the battlefield, forcing men to leap backwards to avoid the sudden crevasse in the ground.
A few men looked down and saw no bottom to the sudden canyon. Only deep and terrible darkness.
"If you choose to continue fighting, you will not win," Merlin assured them, his voice louder than the thunder overhead. "You may still leave. Do not fear the retribution of the blasphemous witch and her apostle. They will not be leaving this battlefield to enact it."
A moment passed. And then, miraculously, sorcerers and mercenaries and trained soldiers alike, all clad in the black of Morgana's men, laid their weapons at their own feet and turned away from the scene.
Others tried to hold them back, screaming platitudes and threats. Morgana and Mordred themselves tried to rally their own men back to their cause.
It was to no avail.
Despite the casualties in Camelot's forces, within ten minutes, they outnumbered Morgana's two to one.
Morgana and Mordred screamed as one and finally attacked.
Merlin raised a hand to the sky and looked upward, the hood finally falling from his head. He lowered his hand, his gaze following to land on the witch and her knight.
Lightning arced from the sky, following the warlock's guidance, and struck down both where they stood. The dragon roared, beat its wings, and rose into the air. It rained fire in a half-circle around the warlock before taking off to pursue the white dragon through the air.
Merlin glanced at the opposing army. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and simply nodded.
One thousand men found themselves unable to move. Frozen in place without a word by a single man.
Merlin then turned around. He waved a hand and the earth knit itself back together, only a brief upset of dust hinting at what had happened.
The warlock walked forward, gaze steady and footsteps sure and strong, until he was feet away from Arthur, who still lay prone on the ground, whose hand still clutched at a wound.
Arthur could not keep up the appearance of an impassive king. His mouth was gaping, his breath stayed in his chest, his mind both working too fast and too slow to properly comprehend what he had just seen.
He looked at his servant, this all-powerful magician, and watched as the black-haired young man dropped to his knees and knelt before his king, head bowed.
The war had been won, and it ended with perfect silence.
For a while, it seemed like the performance at Camlann had been a sort of one-off. Merlin, it was collectively decided, was certainly a powerful sorcerer, but surely the men's accounts of the battle ended bloodlessly were exaggerated.
Things had changed after their return, certainly, but only in the ways that seemed natural for those in the castle. Merlin was never arrested for the crime of sorcery. Instead, he had been summoned for tense interrviews with the rest of the Round Table every night for two months. Those who lived in the castle assumed it was for private interviews and interrogations about the man's various crimes and motivations.
There was much yelling and arguing that could be heard from the Small Council in that first fortnight. Arthur would alternately ignore and berate the young wizard, and the rest largely acted the same depending on what had been heard the previous night. Even Guinivere, in her endless understanding and patience, acted oddly cold to Merlin for a handful of days.
Gwaine and Gauis, as had been expected, as well as Leon–less expected, but strangely natural-were Merlin's steadfast support through those turbulent weeks.
But they hadn't been interrogating Merlin during that time. Not really. They had been listening.
Every night for two months following the recovery of the Round Table and the victory at Camlann, the members of that small council would congregate to ask Merlin questions.
He would comply with answers, no matter how difficult or incriminating. At first, it was a series of interviews, mainly consisting of shouted or clipped questions from Arthur being met with serious or exasperated answers from Merlin.
Within a month, it had turned into dinners while Merlin conjured figures made of flame or smoke or water to act out the stories of his life since arriving in Camelot.
Within two, he had started acting out Gwaine's stories, and Gwen's, and even some of Gaius's from the era of Uther's reign when magic had been legal.
They became merry gatherings, and all the merrier when it had been announced to the Round Table that Arthur planned on legalizing magic and instituting Merlin as Court Sorcerer.
The announcement soon leaked from the walls of the small chamber and into the city itself, and soon thereafter, the other towns and villages of Camelot. By the time the formal announcement came to the people of Camelot, most already knew. The people rejoiced, and welcomed a new era without the suspicion and death of the former.
It brought with it, too, an envoy from Isildir's clan, who began working with Arthur to make sure he got the rites and rituals correct for naming a Court Sorcerer. One of these rituals, demanded not by the workings of the Old Religion but by the machinations of court and government, demanded that Merlin's full titles be read at his entrance.
Apparently, the druids had been keeping a list.
When Arthur first saw it, he could not help but gape. But as he read, he remembered the stories Merlin had told them, and realized that his friend was still far too humble for his own good.
Merlin himself had been shocked at the ceremony. Beforehand, Arthur had only mentioned in passing something about "the naming of titles" being an important part. He had not expected Arthur to stand before him as Merlin knelt, both dressed in finery and armor and the resplendent gold-red of Camelot, to list off names Merlin didn't even know existed, much less had been attributed to him over the years.
"Merlin of Ealdor," Arthur said. "You come to us today as the son of Hunith and Balinor and the son of the Triple Goddess. You are Emrys; magic incarnate; Master of Life and Death; King of the Druids; Prince of Avalon; Consort to the goddess known as the Lady of the Lake; High Priest of the Old Religion; Slayer of Morgana, Mordred, and Nimueh; Victor of the Battle of Camlann; the Sword and Shield of the Once and Future King; Keeper of Magic; Shepherd of Magical Creatures; last Dragonlord; the most powerful sorcerer to walk the land; He Who Was Prophesized; loyal servant to King Arthur Pendragon; my dearest friend and my wisest counselor."
Merlin blinked up at him, eyes bright and shining.
"Do you swear to uphold the laws of this Kingdom?"
"I do so swear."
"Do you swear to serve and protect your king?"
"I do so swear."
"Do you swear to use your power for the good of Camelot and her people?"
"I do so swear."
"I dub thee Merlin Emrys of Ealdor, Duke of Camlann, knight of Camelot and Camelot's Court Sorcerer," Arthur said, touching each of Merlin's shoulders. "Rise."
Merlin rose to his feet, eyes locked with Arthur's. Merlin stuck out his hand for Arthur to shake it. Arthur grinned at him and pulled him in for a hug.
"Congratulations, my old friend," Arthur told him. The crowd behind the two began cheering wildly, Gwaine and Hunith's cries climbing above the rest in their volume and enthusiasm.
"Thank you," Merlin whispered.
Merlin and Arthur developed, within the warlock's first year of serving as Camelot's Court Sorcerer, an arm of the government known as the School of Mages, headed up by Merlin himself. Really, it had been someone else's idea, but Merlin had been immediately interested in the idea and insisted Arthur aid in its creation so it would adhere correctly to the new laws.
Students came from all over Camelot at first, then came slowly from other kingdoms, to learn magic from Merlin. Some also wanted to be knights and so split time between lessons with the Court Sorcerer and training with the knights. Some wanted to be healers and physicians, and would balance their workload by running between Merlin's tower and Gaius's chambers. Others still came for different reasons: to become historians, performers, agriculturists or botanists, scholars.
All quickly found a home in Camelot, guided by Merlin's increasingly strange and revered methods of education. Classes in Merlin's tower–and the now-attached caverns that used to house the Great Dragon–were set to convene every other day, conveniently alternating with Council and Petition days so he could attend both to his students and to his duties as the king's advisor and member of the Round Table.
Merlin would conduct lessons in almost every imaginable field, ranging from those strictly magical to those incredibly mundane. He would march sixty students at once to the training fields and run them through drills in offensive and defensive magic, which would leave the training field covered in scorch marks and overgrown plants and destroyed, overturned earth until Merlin fixed it. He would bring Geoffrey in to speak for hours on the history of Camelot and magical and mundane law. He would ask scholars to take them through their paces in Greek, Latin, French, and handwriting. He would have Gaius give lessons on anatomy and healing, or have Isildir put them through their paces on matters of the Old Religion.
Classes on potion-making often left strange banks of colored fog or acrid stenches or billowing smoke wafting through the hallways of the castle–more typically results of Merlin's own improvising rather than his students' failures. Sessions devoted to illusions and perception would have test volunteers stumbling through the market proclaiming their love for various people and objects until a sheepish student came to collect them. Transfiguration lessons often resulted in Merlin charging into a room to collect a potted plant or to catch a mouse, leaving everyone mildly befuddled as he rained profuse apologies and advice on watching where you're walking when class is in session to whatever object, plant, or animal he had snatched from the room.
By the end of the second year of Merlin's duties as Court Sorcerer and the end of the first year with the School of Mages operating, these instances had become commonplace, if still annoying and, at times, difficult to resolve. Merlin had gained a reputation in Camelot beyond as an eccentric and dedicated teacher, one who was able to demonstrate everything if hard-pressed to explain them properly.
Students thrived under his tutelage, and often found the opportunity to be advised, apprenticed, or squired by his various guest speakers.
Arthur and the Round Table quickly learned that they greatly enjoyed sitting in on Merlin's classes. They would get there early and arrange themselves in the back of the classroom, quiet and grinning with anticipation for whatever chaos and mess ensued. Their particular favorites so far had been the lessons on defensive magic when Merlin had challenged the entire class to attack him at once in an effort to dissipate his shield (the last student gave up after two hours), and the lessons on potion-making when Merlin taught his students how to create a mixture that could change the drinker's outward appearance, resulting in students walking around with flower-colored hair due to pranks or personal preference.
On this particular day, Merlin breezed in, wearing his new blue robes and a fine handkerchief stitched for him by Guinivere. Silence settled over his students immediately, antsy, expectant, and dreading. As has become normal lately, Merlin was shortly followed by an owl–a familiar, Merlin insisted, despite Arthur's teasing that the creature mistook the warlock's growing beard and outgrown hair as a nest and simply stayed–named Wart and a few trailing sprites which found him amusing, all of which flitted through the air to alight on his desk and shoulders, respectively.
"Which are we dreading the most today, class?" Merlin asks, lifting himself up on his desk to sit on top, legs crossed. The owl clambered awkwardly into his lap, fluffed its feathers, and settled down. "Potions, Latin, history, botanical magic, or theory?"
A loud groan came from the assembled students, which made Merlin grin. It was the same self-satisfied grin he wore for years when Arthur complained profusely at the curtains being thrown open to let in the morning light.
Traipsing through the still open door came the young, slight, and still somehow imposing figure of Thalia, the young girl who had been the first to brazenly approach the warlock–only a week into his duties as Court Sorcerer–and demand instruction.
Thalia was a talented witch in her own right despite her young age. The girl couldn't be more than fifteen years, and came to Camelot as a bright-eyed Druid with the hope of being taught by the great Emrys himself.
Merlin had been baffled enough by her ask and her stony, determined demeanor to immediately accept, and the two had been inseparable ever since. A month later, Thalia had talked to Merlin and Arthur about setting up the School, citing the ten others who had asked her how to go about securing Merlin's tutelage.
The two acted more as siblings than master and student, and it suited both perfectly fine. Thalia learned the practical side of magic from Merlin, and Merlin learned the theoretical side from her. They learned about the old religion together, and bickered constantly over such fine technicalities that even the most well-learned person became quickly lost amid the rapid-fire litany of mechanical terms and use of foreign languages.
Merlin had declared Thalia his ward and apprentice not long after Gaius pointed it out as an option. Thalia moved in the the spare antechamber in Merlin's new rooms, and made it a point to cause Merlin as much grief as the warlock himself had caused the aged physician. Gaius took much pleasure in the whole arrangement.
"I think they're dreading Theory the most," Thalia said, crossing her arms and leaning against the desk. "Gaius is busy today, so it would fall to me, and I am not half the patient teacher he is."
"Theory it is, then," Merlin announced, and both he and his assistant shared an amused grin at the chorus of groans and complaints that ensued.. "Thalia, would you remind them where you left off last time?"
"We were talking about limits of power," Thalia said. "Last time we had covered the core tenants and limitations of the Old Religion. Which are…"
Someone in the front–a young man named Kay, with aspirations to be a knight–raised his hand.
"Balance, order, and reservation," he said.
"And how do those operate in the actual practice of magic?" Merlin asked.
Arthur snorted. He had never pegged Merlin as an impossibly practical man, but it comes out significantly at times. It leaped out when Merlin asks questions at council meetings, debated military strategy, or discussed some of the more difficult situations he had been faced with in the past. In the last year or so, it seemed glaringly obvious as well when teaching or in direct proximity to the theory-driven Thalia.
A young woman by the name of Samantha answered Merlin's question.
"Balance means that there is always a price to be paid for magic. A life for a life is the most obvious one, but it exacts itself in other ways. It is why sorcerers tire after using too much magic, and why dark magic makes users go mad and lose their humanity.
"Order means that magic must follow the natural order of the world. Inorganic material cannot be gifted sentience, botanical magic requires sunlight and air and water in order to work. And reservation means that things can be manipulated, by not created or destroyed. Magic can, for instance, grow a plant from a seed, but cannot create something from nothing."
"What?" Merlin asked, his face falling from his normal pleased and encouraging mien into something more concerned.
"Which part confuses you, my lord?" Thalia asked teasingly. "These are basics. We discussed this not long after my arrival in Camelot."
"The last bit," Merlin said. "Creating something from nothing."
"It's like Samantha had said," Thalia answered. "Reservation informs and is informed by the other two tenets of magic. Balance demands a price, and there is very few equitable prices to exact for creating an object or life from thin air. The same goes for order: the natural order of the world demands growth and entropy. If one were to, say, make a flower appear where before there had been air, that would violate the Order of Things. One could transport the flower, or encourage it to grow at a rapid pace from a seed, or could even transform another plant into a flower, but I fail to think of other ways a flower could be created."
"Huh," Merlin said.
And he said nothing else.
His audience–the members of the Round Table sitting in especially–leaned forward with interest. Thalia's eyebrows furrow and she turns to look at Merlin.
"Lord Merlin?" Kay asked.
"I apologize," Merlin said, snapping out of his reverie. "Continue."
"Right," Thalia said uncertainly. "Today is a lesson in Reservation. Sorcerers can only perform one spell at a time. For most, this is a limitation of entirely practical reasons, as most magic-users need incantations to perform magic. But even for those who need no incantation, the concentration and power required to effect a spell limits us to just one at a time, no matter how trivial."
"Really?" Merlin asked, his voice pitched high.
Arthur and the rest of his knights remembered Camlann with sudden clarity, when Merlin had kept Morgana's men frozen while repairing the tear in the earth. No sweat had shone on his forehead. He had not collapsed upon performing such a feat, tired by the exertion; instead, he had knelt before Arthur and later, in the privacy of a tent, waited patiently as the king had loudly and vehemently sorted out his feelings on the matter. Even later that day Merlin performed a miracle by healing nearly every man wounded in battle, and even later enacted another amazing feat when he created over five hundred perfect and perfectly marked graves for those lost in battle.
He had stayed upright for the entire ride home, and for the following and first interview with the Round Table.
"Yes," Thalia answered slowly. "That is a fundamental law of magic."
Merlin was quiet for a moment.
"Do you have evidence to the contrary?" Thalia asked.
"Well–" Merlin said, then cut himself off.
He stared into the middle distance for a moment, the cupped his hands. The, the still air of the audience hall-turned-classroom whipped into a steady wind. And there, in his hands and before the whole class, a little spark of golden light appeared, matching the color of his eyes. It grew, then unfurled into the shape of a red rose.
"By the gods," Thalia breathed, and took the flower from Merlin's cupped hands. The wind, now dying to a slight breeze, ruffled the loosely-hanging curls around her face. "That should be impossible."
She stared at the flower objects before raising her gaze to meet Merlin's. He looked back at her, a soft worry gracing his face. She addressed the class at large, though it seemed directed at Merlin himself.
"And here, ladies and gentlemen," Thalia said, "we have the exception to every rule."
The fourth time the members of the Round Table were reminded of how powerful Merlin is, it was an accident.
Word came quickly from the lower town that Merlin and his apprentice were acting strange. This wouldn't be totally out of the ordinary if it weren't for the incredible specificity of accounts, and for the fact that when they were finally found by the Round Table, Merlin and Thalia were cuddled with Aithusa and Emeril, the youngest of the new dragon family living beneath Merlin's tower, singing bawdy tavern songs and growing fields of flowers on the unforgiving stone.
The rumors that brought the Round Table to the caverns were varied and, somehow, still managed to trace the pair to their exact location.
Merlin and Thalia had been seen stumbling out of the woods onto the main road toward Camelot, grinning like madmen. Witnesses stated that the woods softened and strengthened from the first signs of the oncoming autumn to the supple, living green of early spring behind them. Shrubs flowered, leaves greened, birds thought long-gone over the horizon burst into song.
Merlin and Thalia had been spotted near the gates to Camelot, laughing together and clinking tankards despite being a full mile from the nearest tavern, drinking deeply. Thalia had been congratulating Merlin on something. Merlin had been accepting the congratulations and teasing Thalia about her inability to hold her drink.
Merlin and Thalia were seen in the lower town. Merlin would burp and a huge bubble would appear from his lips while Thalia's eyes grew golden, and the bubbles would sail over the walls of the city. Merlin and Thalia were spotted in the Rising Sun, buying everyone drinks and hugging people as a response to saying Hello.
Merlin and Thalia were seen passing by the training field, and in the wakes of the warlock's footsteps, clover and flowers would burst to life. His and his apprentice's wandering, bumblebee path was marked by a sudden and overpowered growth of plantlife. Witnesses stated that a full old-growth oak had appeared in the middle of the practice field, and a mature weeping willow now stood tall and proud in the courtyard.
When the pair passed the armory, nearby squires reported that almost every weapon inside had been transfigured into a flower, tree, or a piece of jewelry. When they went by the physician's chambers, the jars of even the most rare and precious herbs were suddenly refilled.
The pair were sighted on their way to Merlin's tower. Shortly thereafter, a rainbow appeared, shimmering and tumbling from Merlin's study window. Guards saw them on the way to the caverns, Merlin's feet only just brushing against the ground and Thalia's hands pulling on his arms, keeping him on the stone floor.
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, coming to a final stop before the dragons. "Thalia?"
Aithusa, who had been healed and brought back into the fold just under a year ago, and the littlest dragon Emeril, hatched from a stone egg gifted to Merlin by the Princess Mithian, were huffing along with the dragon equivalent of laughter as Merlin and Thalia both were startled into falling off the dragons' backs and onto the stone floor.
"And Jessup the tavern wench filled the hero's cup," Merlin sang, gesturing with his tankard toward the round table.
Thalia looked at the nobles from her new spot upside-down on Emeril's tail and did the same, magicking away the mead that spilled onto her bodice from the gesture.
"And our hero, that alcoholic, guzzled it all up," she sang.
The two collapsed into laughter.
"What is going on?" Arthur asked.
"Here, here," Merlin said, words slurred and voice slowed.
Merlin raised his head to look at the visitors and waved a hand. A red rose burst from the floor and grew to poke itself in Arthur's nose. A pink tulip did the same before Guinivere. Each of those present got a flower growing abnormally fast and large to bloom in their face.
"Flowers in honor of the occasion."
"I have the same questions as princess," Gwaine said. He plucked his flower from its stem and placed it behind his ear. "What's going on? I thought I told you two to never repeat that song in civilized company."
"Ah, but Aunt Guinivere has heard worse, hasn't she?" Thalia asked, using her normal endearing term for the Queen. "After all, she's been hanging around you, Gwaine, for many years."
"She's not the only person with sensitive ears around, godsibb**," Merlin reminded her, hiccuping. Thalia sent a large, iridescent bubble floating from his lips to the top of the cavern. When it burst, Merlin made it shatter into gold and red sparks. "Sir Leon is present."
The pair giggled.
"Are you enchanted?" Leon asked.
"He thinks we're enchanted," Thalia told Merlin. The two dissolved into laughter again.
"I am happy you are happy," Gwen tried, "but perhaps you could tell us what has made you two so enraptured so we could share in it?"
"Merlin," Thalia said, rolling onto her stomach, "asked for a boon from the Triple Goddess."
The Round Table stands quiet for a moment, each gobsmacked by the statement. Even though none were as well-versed in the Old Religion as the two sorcerers before them, it seemed too impossible. Sure, Merlin had called on the White Goddess to heal Guinivere. Sure, Merlin had asked the gods to rearrange Arthur's fate to allow him to fufill his duty as king after Camlann. But never before had Merlin asked for a favor by the gods. Begging and blessings were one things, but favors and accords were something entirely different and infinitely more dangerous. In fact, Merlin had before strenuously argued against asking for such favors.
Despite his standing as the "exception to every rule," Merlin never seemed keen to test it.
But now, here he is, not arguing against his ward as she accused him of asking favors from the god of gods.
"You asked a favor of the Triple Goddess?" Arthur asked, his voice climbing in volume and incredulity as he spoke. "And she listened to you?"
"Nah," Thalia said. "He summoned her."
"Summoned her," Gwen repeated slowly.
"Yup," Merlin replied. "It was a whole thing. Earthquake, lightning, strange creatures, molten rock flying around. Wart and Thalia hated it."
"It was scary," Thalia insisted.
"Then you should have stayed here," Merlin told her. It seemed to all those watching an already well-worn argument.
"As if," Thalia said, flopping back downward.
"What did you ask her for, mate?" Gwaine asked slowly.
"Time," Merlin answered dreamily.
Thalia sighed and propped her chin up on a hand. "He asked for ten years."
"What does that mean?" Arthur asked quietly. "Ten years of what?"
"Ten years reunited with Freya," Thalia answered, her voice as faraway as Merlin's.
Arthur furrowed his brow. The Round Table knew of Freya's tale.
"You're going to Avalon?" Arthur asked quietly.
"No, no, that's the best part," Merlin said quickly, righting himself to lean against Aithusa rather than on the ground near her flank. "She'll come back. On Samhain."
"The Triple Goddess is bringing Freya back?" Guinevere asked, voice wondering.
"Legendary lovers reunited at last," Thalia sighed.
"That's what's had you hugging strangers and growing plants all day?" Gwaine asked.
"I've been doing what?" Merlin asked.
"You transfigured all the weapons in the armory," Arthur said, his voice trapped between amused and suddenly guilty. He had not forgotten his own part in Freya's story.
"You made a rainbow appear out of your tower," Guinevere told him.
"Flowers have been growing in your footsteps," Gwaine informs him.
"Ah," Merlin said finally. "How cool."
It occurs to Thalia and the members of the round table that Merlin truly had not been aware of the feats of magic he had been performing all day. After summoning the god of gods and asking her a favor, Merlin had been so caught up in his own happiness that his magic simply… did things. Without his permission or notice. Incredible things. It would take at least four of his students an entire day to grow a tree from a seed to an old oak or weeping willow, and he had managed it without noticing.
"Did you know you're levitating yourself right now, mate?" Gwaine asks.
Merlin looks down at the empty air between himself and the ground and gives Gwaine a wide, lazy smile.
"No, I didn't," Merlin answered.
Thalia giggled. "I put rocks in his pockets ages ago, but it hasn't helped much. He's been doing that all day."
"I have?" Merlin asked.
Arthur laughed and shook his head. "I suppose we should get to preparing."
"For what?" Merlin and Thalia asked in unison.
"We'll have a goddess and Merlin's wife in Camelot a month from now," Guinevere responded, voice excited. "We have so much to do!"
"Thing number one," Thalia exclaimed, clambering with great clumsiness to her feet, "should be stopping Merlin before he floats to the ceiling."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Merlin answered, floating steadily upward. "I think there's something there to catch me."
Strawberry plants leapt to life from the roof of the cavern, their tendrils reaching out to catch Merlin as he bumped gently against them.
5.
Merlin had been on edge for weeks. Freya was approaching her due date, and with every move the Duchess of Camlann made, her husband was right there to fret over her. Thalia had taken to bribing his students to create some manner of chaos in the course of their studies to lure Merlin away even for a few hours to give Freya a break.
Freya had begun hiding in strange places to avoid his hovering. First had been with the king and queen, where she would discuss Druidic tales and commiserate with a heavily pregnant Guinivere. Merlin had caught on quickly, and so Freya had moved on to secluding herself in the library with Geoffrey, and then moved on to Percival's chambers, and finally the tavern, to get a few moments of peace from her worried, overprotective husband.
She and Guinivere went into labor on the same day. Merlin spent the day sprinting from the queen's chambers to his own until Arthur and Guinivere finally joined forces to shout at him to leave and attend to your own wife, you paranoid git. Merlin had assented only when Thalia began transporting herself from room to room to give each party an update on the other.
As it turned out, the royal heir and Merlin's first child came into the world at the same time.
When Merlin's daughter and Arthur's sun took their first breath, and their first cries pierced the air, sunlight itself seemed to pour from the castle. The wards Merlin and his students had put in place years ago shone golden and opaque, growing into a dome over the whole city. The white stones of the castle glowed with their own light. Aithusa, Kilgarrah, and Emeril all roared with pleasure and pride, each perched on the walls of the citadel, to announce the arrival of the children.
Rainbows burst from the castle proper, draping the upper and lower towns in dancing, multicolored light. Fires and candles roared to life across the country, trees became heavy with ripe fruit, animals and creatures stilled and then jumped in the air, singing and bleating and rejoicing as one.
Merlin stood in his chambers, cradling his child, a smile cracking his face in two. When Arthur arrived, his own child in his arms, it was to see a golden mist settling across the warlock's shoulders, crowning his wife and child with glowing halos. As Arthur and his child entered, the ring of light grew to encapsulate the other two.
Merlin kissed his daughter, who had been named Prudence Hunith, on her forehead, and then did the same to Kyduan, Arthur's son.
"Magic rejoices," Merlin told Arthur.
And, looking at the expression of love and joy on Merlin's face, the one that threw sunlight and life and color into the air around him, Arthur couldn't help but agree and understand.
When Arthur took petitioners next, he heard their stories of bountiful harvests, unusually high-yielding crops, perfect weather, and ample and docile game and wildlife. And he had to excuse himself to go find his former servant to thank Merlin for the inadvertent blessings bestowed by virtue of the man's joy. When Arthur found him, Merlin hadn't yet lost his smile and was bouncing along the castle halls with Prudence and Kyduan on each hip, his wife beaming and walking along with him.
1
Freya had been gone two years when it happened. Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen had left Prudence and Kyduan with Hunith and a retinue of royal guards as the royals and their sorcerer were on their way to Lot's kingdom for renegotiation meetings regarding trade routes.
Word reached them two days into their visit that Ealdor was in flames. Merlin had grabbed onto his king and queen's arm, stone-faced, and transported them in a whirl of wind and clap of thunder to the small village.
The fire still raged when they appeared.
They took in the scene quickly, faces grim. Kyduan stood next to Sir Leon, tears running down his face, cheeks smeared with soot. Leon's arm was kept firm against the prince's shoulders as they shook.
The two of them stood near Gwaine, similarly covered with ash and soot, his hair matted and greasy. The knight turned to look with shining eyes from the burning town to take in the source of the sudden wind and thunder.
He looked straight past the king and queen to the Court Sorcerer. Gwaine's face, which had already been crumpled by the force of his own disbelief and grief, fell further.
An inhuman yell came from Merlin and he lunged forward, darting across the hard-packed earth to streak toward his mother's house. Arthur reached out, but couldn't catch him in time. Instead, Gwaine placed himself bodily in Merlin's path, catching him full-force against the chest and locking him in strong arms.
"Let me go," Merlin screamed, clawing at Gwaine's back.
"Merlin," Gwaine said lowly.
"Uncle Merlin!" Kyduan cried, struggling to break free from Leon's grasp.
Leon held the boy steadfast while Gwaine struggled against Merlin. Guinevere crossed the open road to reach her son and dragged him slowly, painfully away from the scene.
"Let me save my daughter!" Merlin yelled.
"Merlin," Gwaine said again, reaching his arms around his friend in a restraining embrace.
With a wordless scream, Gwaine was pushed across the dirt road and off his feet. Merlin rushed forward, sprinting toward the flame-engulfed form of his mother's hut.
"Prudence!" Merlin screamed as he ran forward toward the fire. "Mother!"
A sudden wind appeared between him and the house, strong enough that the warlock had to stop in his tracks, throwing a hand in front of his face to protect it from the tongues of flame and stinging dirt thrown up in the air.
The wind deposited the ash-streaked form of Thalia on the ground before Merlin. Her chest and right arm were badly burned and tears streamed down her face. She appeared kneeling, cradling in her arms two blackened forms. One wore the unmistakable apron and singed hair scarf of Hunith. The other, a fine dress, embroidered with figures of Camelot's emblem and birds of prey. Prudence's favorite dress, made by her mother two years ago before her return to Avalon.
Merlin's scream was louder than thunder, more severe and catastrophic than the sound of the earth ripping in two at Camlann.
Those still present all fell to their knees at the sound. It ripped at their hearts until they bled in sympathy. Arthur, Guinivere, and their son clung to each other and watched as Merlin collapsed next to the body of his daughter and the body of his mother. Thalia's chest heaved with soundless sobs as she held the both of them.
"I'm sorry," they finally heard her say between gasps. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Merlin curled himself over the body of his daughter, body shaking.
Arthur felt the ground shake in response. It felt like all the air in the village had been sucked away, along with all the light and warmth.
Merlin made noises known only to the darkest despair and loss. He cried in the way only a parent who lost a child could. And it clawed into every person who could hear it.
Clouds gathered overhead, ripping with thunder and rippling with lightning. Rain poured from the sky with no warning, pouring with a vengeance and virulence overpowered only by Merlin's sobs.
In another flash of lightning, there appeared behind Thalia the form of a woman. Her eyes were covered by a wreath of snakes, her stringy black hair pasted to white skin beneath the rain.
Thalia, Arthur, Guinevere, Gwaine, Kyduan–everyone nearby found themselves in sudden and overpowering awe of the woman. Something demanded their subservience to her, and each found themselves unwillingly curling into a bow.
All but Merlin.
His head whipped upward, expression mutinous and anguished as he looked at her.
"Why?" he demanded.
The woman looked on. When the lightning flashed again, two other forms–one a child and one a crone, both crowned with writhing snakes–appeared behind her like shadows, before fading again.
"I have given everything," Merlin screamed, still cradling the body of his daughter. "My love, my friends, my powers, my destiny, my life! And still you demand more?"
The Triple Goddess did not respond.
"You will not take her," Merlin told her, lowering his gaze to look at the body of his daughter.
"It is the way," the Goddess responded. "Balance, order, reservation."
"Haven't I given enough?!" Merlin screamed.
"Yes," the goddess replied. "And this, you must give as well."
"Take my life, then!" Merlin demanded, curling over Prudence once more. He rocked her back and forth like she is a babe in his arms once more. "Not her. Take me."
"You have more work to do, Merlin," the goddess said, though not unkindly. "If I were to take you instead, the world would go into darkness."
"It already has, without her in it," Merlin told her.
His voice was splintered, broken.
"Take my life," Thalia offered, turning toward the goddess and throwing herself on the ground. "Grant me this wish. Let Prudence live in my stead."
"No," Merlin growled at her, eyes flashing. "I will not trade the life of one daughter for another."
Thalia leaned back on her heels, an expression of grief and disbelief coloring her features.
"The price has already been set," the Triple Goddess said. "It was set ten years ago. Her birth was the result of a boon from me in the form of your wife's life beyond Avalon. Both must return home."
"I must always be your fool," Merlin whispered bitterly. "Your plaything."
The Goddess did not respond for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was heavy and regretful. "I am sorry, my son."
Merlin screamed again, a long, keening noise that ripped Arthur and Guinivere's hearts from their chest and whisked them into the dark.
The ground quaked. A canyon opened around Merlin, Thalia, and the bodies of Prudence and Hunith. The sky roiled with noise and light. An arc of lightning struck the Goddess once, twice, three times in quick succession. Flames leapt from the burning hut to her form, combining with tearing winds and lightning and stinging rain to lash out at her again and again.
The chaos lasted for a full day. The elements and the world itself raged and stormed around Merlin, centered on the form of the Triple Goddess.
When it finally stopped, Merlin still held his daughter's body in his arms. Thalia had wrapped herself around him, whispering apologies in his ear. And the Triple Goddess still stood, face pulled in a frown, reaching toward Merlin with one, delicate hand.
Then she disappeared in a last gust of wind, leaving her mortal son to mourn the loss of his and Freya's daughter.
Arthur and Guinivere had stood vigil over the entire display.
Even Merlin could not kill a goddess. Despite the legends, despite the prophecies, despite the extravagant and mundane and terrible displays of power, even Merlin could not call his daughter back from Avalon.
* Hwamm - open
** Godsibb - a child who has become spiritually connected to another, as a godchild or sponsor