Oh, my word! Have ya'll, (yes I did just make fun of Texans, sorry,) seen the newest Merlin? It's so freaking brillaint! I won't spoil anything for you, but if you have seen it then please go and read the oneshot I wrote about it. I believed that they were a few scenes missing so I wrote them. I can't wait until next Saturday. But for now I give you all...THIS. I actually feel kinda proud of some of the things in this chapter, so please tell me if I have a right to. Some cool things happen in here. Thank you to everyone who had reviewed, you've all been so awesome. And as a treat this chapter is something like 4,000 words long, so BE grateful. (:
By the way, did anyone watch the last Doctor Who? Again, Brillaint! *sniffs* it's over.
The higher and farther he climbed the greater the pain became. There was more than a few times when it was so great it seemed to be crippling him. But then he would think of Arthur and his strength would be renewed.
Merlin wasn't exactly sure how long he had been climbing, or even what he was climbing. All he knew was that Arthur needed him and that there was an evil magic inside of him trying to end his life. But he'd clawed his way back to life when Nimueh had poisoned him, so he could definitely do it now.
Along with the pain his memories seemed to be returning to him the closer he got to the surface. And he was retaining them. He no longer had the bouts of intense knowledge that were far too painful and numerous for his mind to handle. He was starting to remember who he was now.
Before it had been like he was covered in a fog so thick that he couldn't see himself, let alone anything else. But now the fog was thinning and even disappearing in some places.
He knew that something really bad had happened to him before he had succumbed to the fog, something really painful. But that wasn't the pain he was feeling now. There was a foul magic poisoning his own and every time he fought back against it, it would lashed out at him like a whip. Causing unendurable agony. The kind of agony that makes you want to curl up into yourself to hide from it. And that was precisely what the magic wanted, it wanted him to give up and hide, it wanted to win.
But Merlin wasn't going to give into it or the pain, Arthur was more important than this. Besides, it's not like he wanted to die, and that's what would happen if he let this evil overcome him.
Another wave of images from his life washed over him. He saw a man, the same one he had seen in the dungeon, standing in front of him and smiling.
"Clæmnes ac ne sceaðennes."
Merlin felt the ghost of the pain before and instantly recoiled from the memory. For a moment he wasn't sure if he wanted to keep fighting if more of that was all he had to look forward to. But then he realized something. That man, the one that had hurt him, had hurt Arthur as well.
Another memory. Arthur chained to a wall and the sorcerer, Arcturus, knocking him hard against his head with a club. Knocking him unconscious.
Merlin knew where he had felt the magic before. He knew who it had come from. It was the man that had tortured him and had hurt Arthur.
Merlin was hit with a sickening surge of revulsion that that man's magic was inside of him. It was poisoning him. Arcturus, the one who had laughed, was killing him.
Well, not anymore.
Ignoring the even greater pain that was attacking him, Merlin rushed forward, almost flying back towards consciousness. He was angry. His magic felt defiled. And Arthur needed him. There was no way that Merlin, warlock, idiot, silly, clumsy, powerful; Merlin was going to let Arcturus stop him from completing his destiny. From protecting Arthur. From using his magic the way it was always meant to be used, to help people. No one, not even the vermin Artcurus was going to stand in the way of that.
Arthur made his way quite reluctantly to the throne room where his father was. This is the last thing I need right now, he thought, I'm barely keeping it together as it is.
When he entered through the massive doors he immediately noticed that his father wasn't on his throne or at the table. He was, in fact, standing near a window and seemed to be gazing out it. Arthur walked all the way up to him without Uther so much as looking in his direction. This is not going to be fun.
He finally came to stand in front of his father. "Sire, you wished to see me?"
Without turning around Uther said, "Yes, I have some things I wish to discuss with you."
Arthur only just managed to keep himself from cringing at that. This was hardly the first time he had angered his father, and he doubted it would be the last, so he might as well get through it.
"I'm sorry, father, about what I said to you earlier. It was disrespectful and without just cause. I apologize for the things I said to you, and I'm afraid that there is no excuse for them." Now I've got that over with then maybe he'll calm down faster.
"But I think there is, Arthur." Uther turned around to face his son and the prince was shocked to see that there was no anger on his features, only sadness.
"What?" Arthur asked, dumbstruck.
"From what I could make out, you intended to help someone in need and that person turned out to be a sorcerer. You were kidnapped and had to watch your own servant get tortured, all the while knowing that you would be next as soon as he broke." He turned back to look out over Camelot once more.
"You care about people, Arthur; there is no better quality that could be asked of a king. And the people of Camelot care about you. I have always strived to do what is best for those I rule, but many of my actions have caused people to hate me. But not you, Arthur, there are so many who offer you their loyalty freely. I believe your servant included.
"I did not intend to, but you saw what I said as an insult to your servant. But you must understand Arthur, and I think you already do, I never expected a simple servant to resist pain like that. I can understand how seeing something so horrible and so extraordinary and then have it insulted can be infuriating."
He put his hand on Arthur's shoulder and for once looked like a father, not a king. "I can't imagine how terrifying and painful this must have been for you Arthur. And considering the circumstances I do not blame you for getting angry with me. I probably would have done the same."
He looked into Arthur's eyes. "Do you know why I appointed him to be your servant, Arthur?"
The prince frowned at the obvious question. "Because he saved my life and you wanted to reward him."
"I may have said that, but I know that there are plenty of people in this world that would rather have gold than a job as a servant. No, when he saved your life, Arthur, I saw someone who could act quickly. Who didn't let fear or hesitation get in the way of important things.
"I saw someone who just might be able to save your life again someday. You are a very skilled warrior, but even you can't be expected to do everything at once. I know that your goal has always been to protect the people of this kingdom. One of these days you may be so busy protecting others that you might not see the man with a knife come up behind you.
"Of course, that's what the knights are there for. But I thought that out of anyone to be your servant I would rather have one who isn't afraid to act quickly, and can think fast enough to pull you out of the way of that knife. Out of all the servants you've ever had I don't believe that even one of them would have the guts to save your life."
Uther let his hand drop. He walked over and placed the same hand on his throne, once again facing away from Arthur. "Being king means that you have to make hard decisions, do horrible things, and worse. Ask others to do horrible things. We often have to use people, Arthur. Your servant knew things that we've already seen that people would pay quite a bit for.
"You had to ask an awful thing of your servant. You asked him to stay quiet, to let his silence condemn him. No matter what happens now you will always carry that weight, that guilt. And nothing can assuage it. But you had to, for Camelot. Sometimes, Arthur, innocent people have to suffer and die to protect the many. It isn't fair, it isn't right, and it's more painful and despairing than you can yet imagine. But you have to do it. That's what it means to be king."
He turned back and Arthur saw that his eyes were wet, if only very, very slightly. "And he kept his silence. That's why I made him your servant, because I knew that he could do more for you and be far more loyal than anyone else."
Arthur's voice was thick, but he still managed to say, "And for his loyalty he was tortured. And he's not just loyal to Camelot, but to me as well. He let himself get tortured for me."
Uther looked even sadder now. "I know, my son, and that is why I wanted him to be your servant. I used him."
For a moment Arthur felt angry at his father for doing this, but then he remembered that whether he had used Merlin or not he doubted Uther had had any idea that it would go this far.
"I know that I've not always been the father that you have hoped for. I have made a lot of decisions that I regret. That is also what it means to be king. I…sometimes get blinded by my arrogance and my power. And my fear." Arthur was even more surprised at this turn in the conversation.
"When you went on that quest to save your servant I feared that you might never return. I didn't want to lose you like I lost your mother. I know that you got very angry with me over that, but your life is worth far more to me and to Camelot than that of a servant's. To some extent, Arthur, I was merely being selfish. I can't bear losing you.
"But you managed to save your servant anyway. And still, because of my fear and arrogance, I wanted to teach you a lesson. I wanted to let your servant die to show you that disobeying me was never the smart thing to do."
He chuckled a little bit. "I still don't know how you did it, but your servant got the antidote." He looked into Arthur's eyes once again. "He risked his health and his life to warn you of the poison and then proceeded to drink it for you. The least I should have done was to allow him the antidote. But my pride blinded me. I forgot about why I appointed him, about how he deserved to be rewarded not punished.
"It's hard for me to say this, but…Arthur..I'm sorry. I was wrong to punish him for something you had done. It hurts me to admit it, but it's true."
A small smile came over his face. "If he had died then he never would have been there to protect you, and you may have been the one to be tortured. And for that I am grateful. His life still means less to me than yours, and don't expect that to change. I love you far too much for that, my son.
"Your servant was brave and loyal, and it gladdens me more than I can say that he have people in your life who are willing to suffer for you. You may not think it to be a good thing, but believe me it is. Possibly, your quest to save him is what motivated him to remain silent. Because you proved that you are worthy of loyalty. And, though right now it may not seem so, great happiness can come from such faithfulness. I only hope that you can, in time, learn to see that.
"People love you, Arthur; they are willing to give their lives for you, because you love them in return. A day may come because of that kindness and love when no one needs to die at all."
He smiled again, and this time it was even more genuine. "I hope you can forgive me, my son, for doubting your servant's loyalty to you."
Arthur had to struggle hard to hold back his tears. This was perhaps the closest Uther had ever come to being a real father to him. But the circumstances of it, and all the things he had said and all their meanings, were far too confusing for Arthur. But he did know one thing. "There's nothing to forgive you for, father. Since I have come back you have only strived to help me. And I am grateful for that."
"I'm glad, Arthur, that all this has been resolved. Now, go get some rest, you look exhausted." As Arthur was just about to exit the room Uther added. "And Arthur? I hope your servant lives, for both your sake and his."
Gaius sighed for what felt like the millionth time since he had met Merlin. He had known from the very beginning that the boy was both going to be a lot of trouble and a great blessing to him. And he had been right.
But now it seemed that his ward, who had already brightened his life like a beautiful ray of sunshine, was going to die. He was doing everything he could for him. Yet despite the fact that he had healed people in far worse conditions than this, Merlin was still dying. And as he had told everybody who had asked, the boy had no reason to be.
Gaius didn't doubt that all of this had been painfully traumatic for both his body and his mind, to mention nothing of his heart, but that still didn't account for his rapidly declining health. Though, in the last couple of hours the rate of his descent had leveled off a bit. And yet he seemed to be getting more and more tired as if the price of this extra time was his energy.
He wanted to believe that Merlin would pull out of this—that he would be fine as always—but he didn't know how that could be. He was one of the most skilled physicians alive and nothing he did seemed to really be helping him. It was almost like some force was determined that the boy would die. Well, if there was one then Gaius had a thing or two that he wished to say to it.
But the fact was that the old man didn't know what the problem was and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep himself from falling into despair.
Though, some part of the physician was almost glad that Merlin was dying, if only because then he wouldn't have to remember what he had gone through. He had heard all that Arthur had said to Leon—who had left only a few moments before—and knew that if Merlin did survive then he would need help dealing with all of this. And, of course, Gaius would gladly give it to him. But no amount of help in the entire world would allow Merlin to get completely past all this, and that thought pained Gaius almost more than he could bear.
Merlin was so innocent, so friendly and trusting, so without bitterness and pain that the old man knew that he would do anything to let him stay that way.
But then again, maybe Merlin wasn't as without pain as everyone thought. Gaius' mind flashed back to a letter he'd gotten a couple of years ago, a letter so filled with pain and motherly despair that he'd almost been unable to read it.
He shuddered at the thought that Merlin had had to relive that.
But maybe Merlin wouldn't ever become cold or hardened by this experience, because he looked like he might not live that long. Gaius wasn't sure exactly which would be better, a Merlin with as much bitterness and hate as Uther, or a dead Merlin. Both would feel like the end of the world. And maybe it would be, for he had started to have an idea of who exactly Merlin was after the event with the blue orb. As far as the physician knew only one person of that age, dying and in that much pain, without any training, could possibly be able to conjure powerful magic like that and save Arthur from so far away. And to think that Gaius had been afraid of what that might mean, well, now it wouldn't mean anything.
The guardian sat down once more on the stool next to his ward and put his head in his hands. He just wanted Merlin to live and remain Merlin. Was that so much to ask?
Suddenly Gaius was brought out of his incredibly depressing thoughts when Merlin starting convulsing on his bed. Somehow the boy had managed to roll over onto his back—which would be causing him endless amounts of pain were he awake—and was now jerking and twitching violently. It was like he was having some sort of seizure. He was covered with sweat and his mouth foamed slightly.
Gaius grabbed his shoulders and tried to hold him still but it was of no use. Despite his current state he seemed to be unbelievably strong. The boy was convulsing harder than ever and Gaius dimly wondered if it was the end, if he really was dying.
Abruptly, Merlin spasmed so strongly that he lurched right out of Gaius' hands. One of Merlin own shot out and a bucket from across the room flew and landed right next to the bed. Merlin rocked over the side of the cot with his entire upper half hanging over the edge and over the bucket.
Gaius just watched in shock and silence as Merlin retched horribly into the pail. But instead of usual throw up, a dark, oozing mass tumbled out of his mouth and fell in a glop into the bucket. Merlin continued gagging for a few moments until every tiny glob of the black shiny stuff fell out.
Gaius edged around the side of the bed almost subconsciously because he wanted to get a better look. When Merlin was done he hung limply over the brink of the patients' cot for a few moments, as if the strength that it took to expel whatever that was left him exhausted. Gaius doubted that the boy was really, properly conscious, but more delirious.
The physician peered into the bucket. Unlike normal throw up the black stuff was in one big glop, and seemed to be devoid of water. It all seemed to stick together and conglomerate into one big, oozing, mass. It looked a bit like the one and only time Merlin had made porridge, far too sticky.
But Merlin's failed oatmeal hadn't been black—though perhaps slightly burnt—and it hadn't reflected light like this did. Gaius could almost see himself in it. The old man drew back sharply as the thing moved slightly.
There was no doubt about it, whatever this was, it was magical.
Gaius turned to look at Merlin whose hair was so damp with his own sweat that it stuck to his head. The boy didn't seem to be aware of anything other than the bucket.
Seemingly with no warning, the black, magical, glob tried to jump out of the pail. It was almost like it wanted Merlin. Gaius jerked back once more as he saw the thing try to attach itself to Merlin's face. But it didn't even manage to get clear of the bucket before Merlin thrust his hand out and a beautiful golden light came from it. The golden light seemed to trap the magical porridge inside the metal pail, and then it pushed down, confining it to a smaller and smaller space. When it couldn't be pushed down by the golden light any more Merlin spoke in a voice that seemed almost unreal. Gaius could tell from years of hearing powerful sorcerers using powerful spells that his voice was thickly layered with magic.
"Smite yfelweorc bryne and metodsceaft for ðu cuman ágælan mec dæl sweltan innan mín ealdorlegu." Merlin said his voice unnaturally deep.
The black thing seemed to almost screech as it fought against the dozen of white pinpricks of light that pierced it. A dark red light emanated from the thing and seemed to be protecting it from the white light, though; it was obvious that it was failing in this.
Suddenly, instead of protecting itself, it fought back. The crimson magic shot out at the white and golden light and for a moment Merlin's magic seemed to recoil as if hurt.
But then the magic renewed its efforts and the black thing screeched again, this time much louder, and the white knives of light stabbed it again and again, and each time it did the black stuff would seem to shrink.
And every time that the black stuff became smaller Merlin's white and golden light became stronger. With one last piercing screech the thing burst into blue flames and disappeared.
The blue flames went out, leaving nothing but pure white sand in its place. Merlin panted heavily and then lay back on the bed, groaning almost as soon as he did. He rolled over onto his stomach again and closed his eyes. Gaius once again got the feeling that Merlin hadn't been aware of him, only of his battle with whatever that stuff was.
The old man peered once more into the bucket, not really afraid of it due to the fact that Merlin no longer seemed to be. He hesitantly reached his hand in and felt the sides of the pail. They weren't warm like he had expected from all the magic that had taken place there, but was instead cold. The metal was cold.
And as for the sand, it seemed to be ordinary white sand, no more or less. He straightened up and looked at Merlin. His breathing no longer seemed too shallow to be healthy. Gaius touched his forehead. It wasn't deathly cold anymore, but nor was it feverishly hot. Perhaps the boy was getting better.
The black substance had come from Merlin; it was most likely whatever had been killing him. Gaius felt a surge of joy and relief. Merlin might be okay!
The boy moaned slightly and leaned his head into Gaius' touch. The guardian left his right hand there but moved his left to stroke Merlin's still-damp hair. The warlock relaxed a bit and moaned again. Gaius didn't blame him for wanting some comfort after all he had been through.
Gaius was more confident than ever—seeing that his ward seemed to be asleep, not dying now—that Merlin was going to live. He wanted to shout and laugh with joy but didn't because he didn't want to wake the boy that had earned his rest.
Of course, he wouldn't know for sure if he was going to be alright until some more time passed, but Gaius was next to positive that Merlin had just saved himself.
He didn't know what he had done, or what that black stuff had been, or even how he had destroyed it, but he knew that he had used powerful magic. Gaius sincerely hoped that it was enough and that the boy would begin to heal.
So Gaius sat down once more and continued to stroke the boy's head and offer him whatever comfort he could, waiting for him to wake up…as he knew he would.
"Merlin." Nimueh said. She turned her head to her friend beside her, who had also been looking into the 'seeing pool.'
"I don't think that there are questions any longer. Merlin is Emrys. Only Emrys could conjure the light that saved Prince Arthur, not to mention the light that saved himself."
The dark haired woman standing next to her pursed her lips. "Nimueh, I know that you believe that it is He, but all I see is a powerful young sorcerer."
"Elsa, when will you see the truth? It must be him. He is untrained and has no idea of his true potential. Only Emrys could be that powerful."
Elsa looked into the now blank seeing pool as if still gazing at what had once been there. Both women had seen Merlin's battle with the magic. In fact, for several days now they had been watching Merlin and Arthur. Both had done their fair share of smirking when Merlin had been tortured. And both had been secretly impressed with his ability to resist pain.
"I don't wish to fight with you over this again. You know that I don't believe in the ancient prophecies. I agree that he is powerful and that we are right to watch him, but I don't believe he is Emrys. Emrys is a tale that seers made up so to give people hope in the prophesied dark days ahead. He is not real."
Elsa sounded a bit tired, they both had argued about this many times before.
"Well, whether he's Emrys or not we had better leave all the attacks on him and Arthur we have planned alone. I don't think it would be wise to anger him. He might destroy something of value." Nimueh replied, smirking once again.
"So what? Are we just going to leave Camelot alone? What of Uther and all that he has done? Are we just to let him remain?" Elsa asked incredulously.
"I said Merlin and Arthur. Uther is still fair game. I doubt Merlin will be too protective of him. We shall still raise Tristan. Merlin may even thank us for clearing the path for him."
Elsa relaxed. She changed the subject. "I'm surprised that she isn't here. I thought that she enjoyed watching images in the pool with us."
"She does, but I still believe that we have yet to teach her everything. Her rage and bitterness is nearly as strong as her magic. Showing her Camelot would only drive her to do foolish things." Nimueh said.
There was a comfortable pause in the wet and dripping cave for a few moments. Elsa finally broke it by saying, "I may not believe that he is Emrys, but I do believe that he could be a formidable enemy. You should pay more careful attention to him. Your lack of concern may be your undoing someday." She looked worriedly at her long-time friend, and her only friend still living.
Nimueh laughed. "You believe I am in danger from him? He may be powerful but I am a high priestess of the Old Religion. He may be able to disrupt our plans, but he cannot hurt us. He is untrained, ignorant of his own talents, and happens to live where magic is banned under pain of death. He won't be learning much under Uther's rule.
"Besides, as long as we leave his prince alone I doubt he'll even care what we do. Don't worry my friend; we have nothing to fear from Emrys…or Merlin."
Yay! Merlin's healing, we should be seeing some of him soon. Oh no! Nimueh and this other strange person, what's that about? Uther being semi-nice? Gaius being a bit depressed? Merlin being all awesome as usual? I told you some cool stuff happens here.
Warning, here be slight spoilers for 401
So, you know that bit in Morgana's vision of the battlefield where everyone is dead and the sky is red? I totally have an upcoming fic in this 'verse where there is a very carnage-y battle with a blood-red sky. Of course, I don't plan on having old Merlin there. But seriously, I've had the red sky planned out for months, in fact, I've had a lot of my stories planned out for months. Maybe I'm totally psychic. Anyway, when that eventually appears don't call me a copy-cat.