Arthur found himself amongst a chattering crowd.
Frowning he pushed himself to the front and looked upon his younger self's grave face. This was – yes. Okay, he remembered this and he fought down the smile that threatened to break out onto his face. This was when he'd been crowned the crown prince.
He – had it really been all that long ago? It seemed like it hadn't, but it had been, hadn't it? It'd been nearly a decade since this day. This day – he'd been looking forward to it since he'd been young, the day he'd finally in the eyes of the court be able to take the throne.
Ha! Suddenly the smile he'd fought and failed to hide fell from his face. his younger self didn't know what he was getting himself into.
"Do you solemnly swear to govern the people of this kingdom and its dominions according to the statutes, customs, and laws laid down by your forebears? Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your deeds and judgments?"
"I do, Sire."
Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your deeds and judgments?"
"I do, Sire."
"And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now and for as long as you shall live?"
"I, Arthur Pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service and to the protection of the kingdom and its peoples."
"Now being of age and the heir apparent, from henceforth, you shall be Crown Prince of Camelot."
The crowd erupted into shouts and cheers and Arthur's eyes found Merlin in the crowd, his queen standing by his side, their arms interlocked, and smiles on their faces.
"So, how does it feel to be servant to the Crown Prince of Camelot?"
Merlin snorted softly, the smile not falling from his lips. He looked soft almost, his eyes crinkling at the corners, it was a good look on him, happy that is, Guinevere elbowed his side and Merlin's eyes lit up with mirth.
"Washing his royal socks will be even more of a privilege then it was before."
Guinevere scoffed.
"Oh, stop it. You're proud of him, really. Even though you complain about him constantly, you're proud of the man he's become. I'm proud too, he's changed so much in such little time."
"You're wrong, I'm not proud. What do I have to be proud about?"
She smiled and elbowed him again.
"You are. I can see it in your face when you look at him. It's all in your eyes."
"Those socks are very clean! They're good socks, of course I'm proud of them."
She laughed, her face happy and blissful, a look that rapidly changed as the Black Knight burst through the window, glass exploding inward as the people screamed and brought their arms up to cover their faces from the glittering sharp shards. The knights
The room was light with activity, as the dismounted and strode forward, the knights rushed to surround his father whose eyes were fearful and fixed upon the crest that adorned the knight, Gaius, who now stood beside Merlin, was doing the same.
Even some of the older retired knights were shooting each other wary looks.
The knight threw down the gauntlet with a heavy clunk against the floor. A young man, who would be dead very soon, picked it up with a victorious smile and the scene changed.
Arthur found himself in Morgana's chambers. Guinevere was perched at the foot of the bed, a brush in hand and several hair ornaments in her lap as her Lady, her hair wild, paced back and forth in front of his younger self, who was slumped down in a chair, the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers.
"He shouldn't have picked up the gauntlet!"
Morgana gave him an incredulous look, "So? Put an end to it. You know it was meant for you and you know he isn't ready for this kind of fight, he's still barely out of his childhood!"
" He is a knight," his younger self says fast, he remembers having taken it as an offence to his training but it wasn't and he saw that now, she'd been worried for Owen. "The challenge has been taken up. The fight cannot be stopped."
Morgana snorts.
Morgana who had always had such a soft spot for children, who'd always claimed that she couldn't connect with them, but who would protect them with all she had. Morgana who has always been so distrustful of the old ways and could never understand the way Arthur held to them. Someday, he tells his younger self, someday you'll learn that the old ways aren't as important as a man's life. It wouldn't save Owen, but it would others. He finds some comfort in that.
As for his sister, he tries not to think about her because perhaps finally, with his commoner knights and maid Queen and all that he'd renounced during his rule, he would have made the old Morgana proud, but he would never know and that hurts.
"Fight in his place then he will die if he fights."
His younger self sighs, heavy and long.
"I can't. You know that, Morgana. Owen picked up the gauntlet. Owen is the one who must fight. That is the Knight's Code. He knew that when he picked it up."
"He's going to die, you know that right?"
His younger self nods.
"I know that."
The scene shifts.
Arthur finds himself surrounded by stacks of musty old books. It smelt like old paper and sandalwood and the only light came from three flickering candles. Arthur walked around the back table where Geofrey was bent over a large, dusty, tome.
"Geofrey?"
The old man streghtened as Gaius came to stand beside him.
"Gaiu,s thank god."
"You know why I'm here?"
"The black knight, I presume?"
"So it is he?"
The Geofrey sank into a chair beside the table, his head coming to rest in the palm's of his hands. Gaius laid a hand upon his back however he didn't stop his line of questioning, time, he must feel was running out.
"You saw his crest?"
Gaius nodded once, and upon realizing that Geofrey could not see the action said, "indeed, is it he? Have you confirmed it?"
Geofrey sighed, the old chair creaking beneath him as he pushed himself upwards. He pointed with one old and gnarled hand to an elaborate crest of twisted knots upon which sat a white phoenix that was printed with care upon the old and slightly yellowing page.
"See the white phoenix? That's the crest of the De Bois family, but the knots underneath? That's Tristan de Bois's signature touch. He caused quite a stir with that one, changing the crest like that."
De Bois? Arthur thinks. That was his mother's family. He closes his eyes, how should he feel? He doesn't know, so much of his adulthood had been spent learning things about his family, learning secrets and being scarred by them. What is one more scar? One more to add to the list? Bitter, he thinks, but more than that resigned. Did Merlin know and never tell this too?
Gaius sighed, "And he is the only knight ever to have carried such a crest?"
"Yes, according to the records."
Gauis nodded, his eyes falling closed briefly with a weary sigh as the scene changed. Arthur found himself standing next to his father who was slumped down against the shining stone on the stairs that led up to his throne.
His sword sat in front of him, shiny and sharp and it made Arthur slightly uncomfortable to see the way his father just stared right on through it. There was a knock on the double doors and his father briefly reached forward to grab his sword only to retract his hand when it was only Gaius who walked through them. Gaius came to a stop in front of the King and stood there for a moment. Finally, sick of the silence in the same way that Arthur himself sometimes found himself feeling, he spoke.
"Yes."
Gaius cleared his throat once and then, "I'm sorry to disturb you, Sire."
"What is it?"
"You saw the crest too, Sire. You know where we've seen it before. The Knight, the stranger. He bears the crest of Tristan de Bois." His father sighed and ran his hands through his graying locks, before nodding once.
"Yes."
Gaius lowered himself until he sat beside his father, they looked like old friends in that moment and less like king and vassal, he had wondered before – though never asked – about the relationship between his father and Gaius, he'd even once compared it to the relationship he and Merlin seemed to share.
Clearly he'd been correct. History – it would seem, did in fact repeat. He wondered about the lack of bitterness in this, how it seemed to be replaced with a bone-deep tiredness.
"But he's been dead for twenty years now."
His father looked down at the shining metal, his eyes closing briefly.
"I know. I was the one who slayed him. My wives brother."
An uncle then, the guilt in his fathers voice didn't quite sooth the ache.
"But how do you explain – "
His father stood, "Dead men do not return." He was gone in the next instant, leaving Gaius to sigh and slowly follow him out.
The scene shifted.
Arthur found his younger self on the tournament field, with a young man who was still very much a boy, who was trying ever so hard to not show how scared he was in the face of who he perceived as his better. He imagined the cheers and the gawking of the people in the stands wasn't helping him either, he remembers thinking them like vultures, sitting and waiting to watch a young man barely out of childhood die.
No matter how much good there was in humanity there was still times that it disgusted him.
His younger self lay a hand upon Owen's shoulder, "This won't be like fighting me, Owen. You've never fought in mortal combat before. It's different. It's not like the training exercises."
Owen gulped and nodded once, "yeah I know."
Arthur remembered thinking, no he doesn't get it. Not yet anyway, though he's beginning to.
"Listen to me. The problem isn't you, the problem is that we've never seen him fight. Everyone fights differently and you don't know what kind of fighter he is. You have got to be able to get a measure on his style and then adapt."
Owen nodded once and Merlin, who up until this point had stood off to the side, moved to double check some of the buckles on the armor, before nodding once at Arthur, and he remembers seeing such anger there and he'd once mistaken it to be aimed at him. Had believed that Merlin was gunning for him to fight in Owen's stead.
But Arthur thinks now it was something else, Merlin with his rather – unique skill set could have saved Owen.
But Merlin wasn't able to use it.
"But – but I will have the same advantage, yes? He has never seen me fight either."
His younger self nodded, "true."
"You've watched me though."
"Yes."
"And," Owen prompted. He remembers thinking, 'my gut tells me you won't survive this and I've learned to trust that, and I don't want to lie to you, not if you don't survive this' and thoughts like, 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you have to fight.'
"And I know no one braver. But – remember, all it takes to kill a man is one well-aimed blow. Don't be afraid to dodge instead of outright attacking, wear him down that way, it takes more energy to attack then to dodge, there is no shame in it."
His younger self turned briefly away to talk to Merlin about – something he can't recall now, only to turn back around at the nervous "Um," to find a fidgeting Guinevere bent in a nervous curtsie before Owen, her dark curls falling into her face, she brushed them away before offering the previously hidden scarf to Owen.
"The lady Morgana asked me to give you this token. She wishes that you wear it for luck."
Owen smiled at her, plucking it from her hand, before gently handing it back to her. It was red, red as newly drawn blood, he remembers, Morgana it would seem, he remembers thinking, was still trying to get him to fight in Owen's place.
"You can thank her for me, but tell her I shall not wear it, I don't need luck."
"Oh, um, please my Lady insisted that you wear it. Even if you don't wear it openly."
Guinevere handed it back to him, Owen considered it for a moment before stuffing it down under the heavy armor.
"Are you ready?" his younger self asked and Owen nodded.
His younger self nodded and sighed.
"Let us go then."
The final march towards the stadium is nearly silent, only the heavy clank of Owen's feet and the sound of their breathing to accompany them. If they'd thought the chatter and jeers where loud from where they'd stood before then it was three times that as they entered to find the black kni – his uncle already waiting.
"The fight," his younger self said. "Shall be to the knight's rules! To the death!"
His younger self slid into the stands, next to his father and Morgana, Guinevere standing behind her. Merlin followed him, his gaze upon his younger self's back, hard and heavy. Fire could, after all burn blue.
"Let the battle commence!"
Arthur turned then, he didn't need to see someone he'd trained die twice after all. Instead he watched Merlin. Merlin who was pale and angry and had made a point of not questioning Arthur's judgment on this – because he'd known, as Merlin had known, from the beginning that that gauntlet had been meant for Arthur – but who wasn't without opinion.
Merlin, he remembered, who didn't like to hunt for sport because it was senseless killing.
Arthur saw it in Merlin's eyes the moment Owen was killed. He remembers the throwing down of the gauntlet, trying to vault over the barrier but being stopped by his father, Sir Pellinor taking up the challenge, he didn't need to see it again. Merlin's wide blue eyes were the last thing he saw before the scene warped.
Arthur found himself following behind Gaius and Merlin as the slunk through the hallways.
"Gaius –"
"Not now, Merlin."
"But – "
"Be quiet, not yet. I will talk later."
"Gaius – "
"Be quiet, Merlin!"
Merlin grabbed Gaius shoulder then and Gaius whirled around, he looked frustrated, yes but it was the underlying fear that he saw that struck Arthur, but Merlin didn't seem to see it. Merlin looked worried, biting his lip, but there was frustration in his eyes too, a hard glint that made them like blue fire.
"I – he just killed Owen but shouldn't we be tending to his wounds? He took a hit."
Gaius frowned.
"Owen didn't land a blow."
"No, I saw it. The sword definitely pierced him."
Gaius's frown deepened as he lay a hand on top of Merlin's left shoulder, his eyes serious.
"Are you sure?"
"I – ah, slowed the fight down? A bit?"
Did anyone see you?" Merlin stiffened and looked around before turning his eyes back to Gaius, he shook his head. Gaius sighed and looked upwards muttering under his breath for a moment before instantly sobering.
"I have a suspicion, Merlin. But I need you to be sure. Are you sure you saw Owen land a hit?"
"I saw it. He should be dead."
Gaius muttered under his breath before turning leaving a helpless Merlin to follow behind him. The scene shifted and Arthur found himself standing next to a long object that, after some brief fumbling and eye adjusting that he recognized as the tomb of his grandfather.
He tried not to look to the empty spot where is father would lie.
He heard them before he saw them, a heavy door slamming closed behind them.
"Are you sure we should be doing this?"
There was a faint breathy laugh, "You aren't scared, are you?"
They rounded the corner, just as Merlin laughed shakily, "No, of course not. I love old crypts. I wouldn't be seen dead anywhere else."
Gaius ignored him and his– well really it was just a terrible pun. Really it was just bad! - attempt at humor in favor of trying to inspect the names that lay upon the different tombs. It had been hard for Arthur's own eyes so he imagined Gaius was fairing no better if not probably worse."
The problem was solved as Merlin grabbed a torch from the wall and lit it without a thought. Amazing, Arthur shock his head, that he'd survived into Arthur's own rule really, at least some of his apparent thoughtless idiocy hadn't been an act.
"Huh," Gaius said voice dry. "Handy."
Merlin, well, he just ignored him.
They walked until they reached the back where less important people would be entombed before slowing to examine each grave closely. Merlin shifted uneasily, the torch in his hand, as Gaius bent down over each grave.
"What are we looking for?"
"I – bring your torch that way," Gaius gestured towards the far wall and Merlin complied.
"We're not breaking into someone's grave, are we?"
Gaius shook his head as he approached the open tomb, the slab pushed halfway off and the sides towards where the feet would lie all broken down into rubble. There was quite obviously no bones, which there should have been after twenty years. Long enough for all that's left to be bones, but not long enough for bone to become dust.
"No. We won't have to. We're too late. I think – well someone isn't here anymore."
Merlin looked on, his face lit only by the torch light.
"Come, Merlin. We've seen all we need to see here."
Gaius turned then and began to go in the opposite direction, Merlin hesitated, looking at the stone and rubble, before finally turning and following Gaius. Arthur was left watching the retreating light, before he was swept away.
Arthur found himself in Gaius's chamber, said man sat heavily in a chair, his shoulders slumped, he looked defeated, but more to the point he looked worried. Merlin paced in front of the older man his hands never seeming to stay still, his lip between his teeth.
Sir Pellinor would die tomorrow, Merlin didn't know that, but he must have suspected.
Finally Merlin stopped and seemed to draw up, his shoulders coming back, he stared at Gaius. Merlin wasn't waiting for Gaius, he wanted answers now. Gaius must have seen this, because he nodded at Merlin.
"Tristan de Bois. That was whose tomb that was. He was Ygraine's brother."
Merlin's brows drew together.
"I've heard that name before. But everyone is always so nervous – who is she?"
"Was. She was Uther's wife."
"Arthur's mother?"
Gaius sighed and motioned for Merlin to pull a nearby stool up. Merlin did, the sound of wood against stone, a sort of heavy scraping permeated the air before Merlin settled himself down, his head bent to the side in open curiosity.
"Ygraine died in childbirth. Tristan was heartbroken, we all were, but she had been his little sister and they'd always been close."
"He blamed Uther?"
"Yes. He came to the gates and challenged the King, and heartbroken himself and more than a little angry at the world, Uther accepted. I think he may have hoped to die, but it wasn't Uther that died. With his dying breath Tristan cursed Camelot, he said that one day he'd return and make sure that the kingdom and Uther suffered. I thought it the ramblings of a dying man."
"Dead men don't rise up out of the grave. I don't care how angry they are."
Gaius nodded, pulling a book from a nearby table he flipped through the fragile pages. For a moment there was nothing but the unsynchronized breathing of the two men and the rustle of paper before Gaius made a noise in the back of his throat.
"Well?" Merlin questioned.
"It's my guess that we're dealing with a wraith."
Merlin pierced his lips together, "A wraith?" He asked.
"The spirit of a dead man conjured from the grave."
"So this is the work of a sorcerer?"
Gaius nodded.
"Powerful magic can harness the grief and rage of a tormented soul and make it live again."
"How do we stop it?"
Gaius sighed, closing the book with a snap. "We can't stop it. It's not alive, no mortal weapon can kill it."
Merlin shook his head.
"Surely there must be something?"
"Nothing I can think of. He won't stop until the goal he came to achieve is achieved."
"And what's that?"
"Revenge."
"On Camelot, yes? What does that mean for Sir Pellinor?"
"I'm afraid it doesn't look good."
The scene changed and Arthur found himself in the same chambers, but there was sunlight streaming through the windows and onto the piles of books that sat upon every available surface, it looked peaceful actually.
The two men who were in the chamber, however. Well, they looked anything but peaceful. Merlin was pacing once more, but his hands were in his hair and he looked panicked. Gaius wasn't pacing, but he wasn't sitting calmly either, he stood next to a spare cot furiously flipping through a book.
"We all saw it this time. You were right."
Gaius sighed, looking up from his book.
"I wish I wasn't."
Gaius sat the book down on a nearby table and came to stand in front of Merlin.
"He is Camelot's strongest warrior, if anyone can defeat it, he can."
"You said yourself no mortal weapon can kill it. Which means we have to find a way to defeat the wraith ourselves."
Gaius sighed, as if to say 'your optimism is nice, but not entirely based in reality' before speaking in actuality, "How do you propose to do that?"
"if no mortal sword will kill it, then I will. My magic has to be good for something."
Merlin turned then and was up the stairs and into his room in a matter of moments, coming back down moments later with a brown book that Arthur was becoming increasingly familiar with.
"Merlin, you can't do this. Tristan is dangerous."
Merlin flipped to a page and studied it for a moment before handing the book to Gaius and turning, sweeping out of Gaius's chambers without a backward glance. Gaius sighed and made his way out into the hallway and when he wasn't swept away Arthur hurried after them.
Merlin, it would seem was already gone, but Arthur saw a flash of color, the right color for Gaius's robes in fact, he hurried after him, wondering if he was following Merlin. However, Arthur realized quite quickly, Gaius was heading for his Father's chambers.
Gaius knocked once upon the wooden door, before entering.
His father was pacing in front of his desk, his hands tightly gripped behind his back. Gaius bowed once before regarding his father with one of his no nonsense stares, finally his father turned to regard Gaius, his hands still tightly clasped behind his back, his knuckles white.
"Good evening, Sire."
His father nodded, "Gaius."
"There is a matter of great urgency, which I must discuss with you."
"Then spit it out."
"Tristan's tomb is empty. I believe he's been conjured from the dead."
His father stared at gaius, though he didn't look particularly surprised.
"How is this possible?"
"I believe he's a wraith."
"A spirit?"
"Yes, of a sort. He has come to take vengeance for Ygraine's death."
His father ran his hands through his hair, a look of old grief upon his face.
"I didn't kill her, it was magic, not me."
Arthur got the impression that this was an old argument from the way Gaius only sighed before pressing forward.
"Nevertheless, it was you he blamed. You cannot allow Arthur to fight. No weapon forged by man can kill a wraith. It will stop at nothing until it has accomplished what it came for. Arthur cannon win, he will die."
Uther sighed.
"I tried, he will not listen to me."
"Then you must tell him who the knight is. Why he cannot fight."
"No!"
Gaius sighed and laid a hand upon the other man's shoulder as his father's eyes fell closed.
"You cannot hide the truth forever."
His father shook the hand off of his shoulder with a violent jolt and he glared at Gaius, whose eyes were sad and pale.
"I am the KJing. You will not tell me what I can and cannot do."
Gaius sighed.
"I cannot make this decision for you. This your choice, Sire. You tell him, or you let your son go to his death."
"No one but you or I will ever know the secret of Arthur's birth."
Arthur felt his stomach sink. Once, a sorceress had told him that his father robbed his mother of life so that he could be born, and he had believed it for a time before being told of how magic could have twisted the truth. He had believed that, believed in the inherit evil that was magic, but perhaps – perhaps his mother hadn't been an illusion after all.
"The boy is of age now, he should know."
"Never! You made me an oath. I warn you not to break it."
Gaius turned then, "Very well, Sire."
"Leave me."
Gaius did.
The scene warped.
Arthur found himself in his old chambers. His younger self sat at the table by the window, his eyes shadowed, he'd been scared, he remembers, had been able to admit that to himself, however he had been sure that he had to fight.
Soon, he remembered, Merlin would burst through the door, simultaneously shredding and boosting his confidence in one go. It was a rather odd skill of Merlin's. Just as he remembered, Merlin burst into his chambers, his face white except for the pink in his cheeks from the night air.
"You have to pull out."
His younger self looked at Merlin, his face blank. He'd had to work at that.
"And why is that?"
"Because he'll kill you."
His younger self huffed, "Why does everyone think that?"
"Because they're right! Just pull out! You're the Crown Prince. You will inherit the throne. No one wants to see you dead over some stupid challenge and some old rules in some book!"
"I am not a coward."
Merlin shook his head, hard and fast.
"I know that. I've stood there," he gestured to a vague area somewhere behind his younger self. "I've stood there and I've watched you overcome every fear you've ever faced."
"That's what's required of me."
Merlin shook his head earnestly. "But it's more than that. More than some duty. You're not merely a warrior, Arthur. Overcoming fears isn't you duty, but someday ruling is. You've proved your courage countless times. Now prove your wisdom."
"I'm not backing down!"
Merlin's face crumpled. "Please, Arthur, listen to me. This isn't an ordinary knight. Please, just look at him. He doesn't eat, he doesn't sleep. He just stands there, in complete silence. Doesn't that tell you something?"
His younger self grinned, as if this was some big game, as if he wasn't watching the Knight – his uncle – stand outside in the courtyard, because he still couldn't be truly vulnerable with Merlin, it would come soon, but it wasn't yet.
Merlin, despite having magic, had always been there when he was needed.
"No one is unbeatable, Merlin."
"If you fight him, you will die."
His younger self threw his hands into the air.
"I'm not listening to this."
"I'm just trying to warn you."
"And I'm trying to warn you, Merlin! Leave me."
Merlin sighed, his shoulders slumping though Arthur could still see the steel in his spine hadn't faded. Merlin turned then and left. His younger self turned his face back to the window. The scene warped around him.
Arthur found himself in his fathers chambers. The deep red curtains were drawn back and his father sat at the table, a pitcher of wine in front of him, and a goblet in his hand that he was tipping back and forth, watching the deep berry colored liquid slosh about.
The candle on the table blew out and his father didn't even look up.
"I should have known. Hello, Nimueh."
Nimueh, a woman with dark hair and a dark blue dress, looked vastly different from the few times he'd seen her in these – memories? She smiled and poured herself a glass of wine, before sitting down on top of the table, causing the pitcher to slosh in a very audible way.
"It's more than I'd hoped for, Uther. Soon Arthur will be slain. You will have sent him to his death – and how quaint is this? You've stopped shouting for the guards when I appear."
"You'll be gone before they get here. No matter if they're outside the door. Haven't you tired of revenge?"
Nimueh took a sip of the wine, the liquid staining her pale lips.
"Haven't you? You began this war when you threw me from the court and slaughtered all of my kind, I am one of the last remaining High Priestesses. Everyone is dead!"
There was grief in her eyes, old and new as she glared at his father, who didn't look as much angry as resigned.
"You brought it on yourself. You practiced evil."
She laughed, short and broken. "I was your friend, both of your friends! You welcomed me here."
"You betrayed any friendship that was ever offered you."
"I did as you asked. As both of you wanted! I used the magic that you now hate, to give you and your barren wife the child that you craved! You both wanted me to! Ygraine wanted it too!"
"Don't speak of her. She was my heart, my soul. And you took her from me."
"She died giving birth to your son. It was not my choice. I would never have chosen her to die! That is the law of magic. To create a life, there had to be a death, I told you this! The balance of the world had to be maintained."
"You knew it would kill her."
"No, you're wrong. If I had foreseen her death, and the terrible retribution you would seek – I wouldn't have granted you wish!"
So there it was, Arthur thought. It hadn't been a lie. He was born of magic. Magic had robbed his mother of life. But – but if Nimueh didn't lie – and his father did not deny that his mother had wanted it – then it had been magic that robbed her of life, but it hadn't been his father. Once he had been told a tale and the heart of the tale was true but the details had been altered.
Did this make his father a better man? Did it make him guiltless? Did it even matter? No, Arthur thought, it didn't. Arthur had grown up without a mother, had had a father that had been scarred by the past and who couldn't articulate that he cared except in times of great danger. His mother was dead. Had been dead for as long as he'd been alive.
Would he have crusaded against magic if it hadn't been his mother that had died? He imagines not. That was one thing he could not forgive. It didn't make Nimueh anymore justified in her crusade against Camelot. It didn't make his father justified if he entered knowing someone would die.
"I wish you hadn't."
Arthur closed his eyes. There are some things that aren't meant to be heard.
"You wish you didn't have a son? Well, your wish will come true tomorrow."
"I will not let you take him!"
It was the first time that his father had raised his voice since the conversation began.
"I have watched so many people I love die at your hands, Uther Pendragon. Now it is your turn."
She was gone as fast as she came, leaving his father alone with his wine, and the ghosts that haunted him in ways that were perhaps more threatening than the ghost of a woman that had just vacated, taking her glass of wine with her, leaving behind no evidence that she'd even been there.
The scene shifted.
Arthur found himself outside his queens former home, Merlin shifted in front of the door, before knocking. His queen bustled to the door, opening it in a nightgown, her hair undone and hanging around her face in crazed curls, a candle in her hand, lighting up her face..
"Merlin. What are you doing here?"
Merlin shifted.
"May I come in? It's important."
His queen hesitated before nodding, retreating from the doorway, she made room for Merlin to enter, she brushed a hand through her hair, tying it into a knot at the base of her neck before shutting the door firmly behind her.
"I have a question – a favor to ask of you."
"Yes?"
"I'm – I'm not sure how to ask it."
She smiled.
"Ask, Merlin. You know I'd grant you anything. I mean, not anything. Obviously. But I would – I would like to help. What is it that you need?"
"I've come to ask for a sword. The strongest sword your father's ever made."
"What for?"
"To save Arthur."
Arthur stared. A sword in a stone and a story that was always too fantastical to be true, in his mind.
"oh," she said.
"I – I have money. Not a lot, mind you. But I can pay."
Something crossed across his Queen's face, before she motioned for Merlin to follow her. Merlin did, she led him to the small bed chamber that she had shared with her father before handing him her candle and kneeling down to reach under.
She pulled out a sword, with a magnificently crafted handle that looked far too familiar.
"My father's been saving this. He's always said it was the best sword he's ever made."
"it's perfect."
"He'll kill me if he finds I've taken it."
"He'll understand. You did it for Arthur. Oh – here."
He held out a small pouch with cold coins jangling. Even Arthur could tell that it was at least a month's worth of wages. She waved the coins aside.
"Keep them, I knew you were proud of him really."
The scene changed and Arthur found himself inside the dingy cavern that he'd begun to be accustomed to. His eyes didn't even struggle anymore. The dragon was crouched on a rock when Merlin entered, the creature grinned.
"Merlin!"
"Do you know why I'm here?"
"It may surprise you, Merlin, but my knowledge of your life is not universal."
"It's to do with Arthur. His life's in danger. He will die, unless I can make a weapon that will kill the dead."
The creature sat back on it's hunches.
"So what do you come to ask of me?"
Merlin held out the sword.
"Will you burnish it, to save Arthur?"
"The dead do not return without reason. Who has he come for?"
"Uther."
"Then let him take his vengeance and the wraith will die without my aid."
"But it's Arthur who's going to fight him. You have to save him."
"That is your destiny, young warlock, not mine."
"But if Arthur fights the wraith and dies, Camelot will have no heir. I will have no destiny."
"A weapon forged with my assistance will have great power."
Merlin nodded, seemingly oblivious to the anger that was forming in the great creatures eyes.
"I know."
"You do not know. You can only guess. You have not seen what I have seen. The horrors such a sword can cause. If you had, perhaps you would not ask this of me."
"What do you mean?"
"In the wrong hands, this sword could do great evil. It must be wielded by Arthur and him alone."
But it hadn't happened that way. His father had fought the wraith.
"I understand."
The dragon shook it's great head.
"You must do more than understand. You must promise."
"I promise."
"Very well," Merlin held the sword out then and the dragon's chest heaved before it expelled a wave of fire. The light nearly blinded Arthur. Merlin had his eyes squeezed shut tight. The sound was overpowering, Arthur covered his ears, the heat hot against his face – and then it all stopped. There was utter silence.
Then, "Heed my words. The sword was forged for Arthur, and him alone."
Merlin examined the sword, his eyes sweeping over it before his face lit up.
"Thank you!"
Arthur for one, stared. He knew that sword he wore it at his hip, he'd used it every day. It had always felt like it had been made for him, evidently it had been. he feels like he should have been more surprised, but he wasn't. The story had always been far to fantastical for it to be believable. It made sense, he should feel scared, he knew, he'd held a sword burnished in a dragon's breathe, fought with it even.
The scene changed.
Arthur found himself on the banks of a lake. Merlin's form before him, his sword cradled in his hands. He held it for a moment before drawing his hand back and tossing it, it flew through the air in a clean arc, landing with a splash in the murky depths.
The scene changed
a/n: Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry. This was supposed to be updated so long ago. But real life took over, and it was a whirlwind literally.
I took my SAT and did reasonably well, i got almost perfect scores on the english sections!
I took my AP tests (I got all fours!)
Then came prom and i was on prom court! I'm still really, really, happy about that!
And then came finals and the end of school, and my regents because i live in NY and that's a thing here. I passed trig and chem and got a 97 on american history!
Then came graduation, i still have a year left but it was a scary and slightly exhilarating experience to watch people I've known since i started middle school graduate. One of my friends was valedictorian and i cried so much. i'm still so proud of them. So if any of you graduated this year i'm proud of you too!
Then there was the literal whirlwind. Weather has been crazy this year, the day before the fourth there was a crazy storm that took out power lines everywhere, our county was in a state of emergency for at least a day afterwords, tree's down everywhere. People without power. We didn't get power back for a few days and stayed in a hotel. there were 90 mile an hour winds. There's actually a video that i'll put a link up to on my profile that was filmed in front of my house, i think you'll hear him say somewhere in it that a tree took out the power line, which is the one that supplied power to my house. Then you can see when it took down the ones over the railroad tracks.
Then on Tuesday of this week a tornado touched down about an hour and a half from where i live and killed five people. The sky was this disgusting orangy-peach all evening and i was scared shit less.
So yes, my life has been crazy and i haven't had much time for writing, let alone writing from Arthur's point of view which has always been hard for me.
And to the reviewer that asked if i'd ever dabble in the supernatural fandom, I've had a story in the works since the finale that should be finished relatively soon! There's also a short little ficlet that i wrote right after seeing First Born that I've been meaning to cross over from AO3.
That's all for now i have drivers ed in about an hour because i'm determined to get my license before i start senior year.
Bye, i'll hopefully see you all sooner this time!
Abby