I know I've been forever, but this chapter's extra long. I hope you guys like it enough to forgive-it was a tough one for me to write. I promise I have not abandoned this story.
Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine. Unbetaed. Love.
The Afterfall
The whetstone rang against the sword as Gwaine slid it up. He sat on top of a boulder near the edge of the Camelot woods. Bright gold light streamed through the thinning trees and crows cawed away happily. Gwaine wasn't sure whether he was glad of their noise or irritated by it.
"Lovely day, isn't it?" He turned to meet the voice—it was Maro's. She and Iseldir were both crunching leaves on their way towards him. Maro smiled with health even though her arm was in a brace. Iseldir, too, looked oddly strong as he walked with a cane he barely seemed to need.
Gwaine grinned and tried not to look nervous as he stood to greet them. "It is," he said, deciding after a moment to bow. "I'm glad to see you're both well enough to walk."
"Thank you," intoned the uncanny voice of Iseldir. It was Gwaine's first good look at the druid's eyes, and he had the sneaking feeling they were delving into him as if he were a bloody novel. "Sir Gwaine, is that right?" the druid asked.
"Er, yes," Gwaine held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Iseldir."
Iseldir frowned. "Is this truly our first meeting? I believe I've seen you somewhere before."
"Oh, yes, you have. I suppose. That is, I was—well, I was there helping Arthur and Merlin steal that cup from you at swordpoint."
"Ah, I see," a light passed through those too-intelligent eyes. "You've certainly grown a great deal since that day."
Gwaine gaped while Maro looked as though she were holding back a snort. He recovered quickly as possible to ask her about her husband.
Maro's eyes softened. "Iseldir says he managed to escape unharmed and without being followed. We're going to scry for him and the others—hopefully we'll find them within the next few days."
Gwaine hadn't the faintest idea what "scry" meant, but he grinned anyway.
"Are all of you ready?"
All three spun to see Merlin. Of course, the gorgeous day framed him perfectly. Gwaine could have groaned in exasperation at it. Instead, he asked, "Ready for what?"
"Training," came Merlin's infuriatingly short response.
The lower combat halls were only ever used in the winter, and Percival couldn't remember a time when he'd seen even this many people using them. Leon stood next to him along with fifteen or so other higher-ranked knights milling about, but that was not all. A handful of scholars, men and women alike, had also come, as had a few of the head palace servants, and some lower-town officials.
Gwen paced back and forth above them on a rickety balustrade. When the upper door opened and she was joined by Gaius, Iseldir, Maro, and Merlin, the cramped hall seemed to still. Percival turned at the sound of the lower door opening and saw Gwaine, a little out of breath and glowering up at the balustrade…most likely at Merlin.
The whole gathering blinked expectantly up at its queen.
Gwen cleared her throat. "You were all called here today on such short notice because each of you, since our losses at Camlann, has been responsible in some way for keeping this kingdom running. I wished to personally thank all of you for that, and express my apologies that I will now be asking you to do even more."
She seemed to take a shallow breath before continuing.
"The defeat of Morgana Pendragon did not only come at a great price, but has also incited a series of events over the last several days that have led us to believe Camelot will soon be under attack once more. This threat comes in the form of an alliance, one between four kingdoms, united in their cause against us."
The crowd stirred with shocked, shooting whispers and rumbling disbelief. Percival watched them, but didn't say a word. He'd never been good with words.
"These four kingdoms…" Gwen began again, her voice clearer now, "—are Mercia, Essetir, Alinaeda, and Amata. No official declaration has been made and no challenges have reached the city yet, but neither I nor anyone else in my confidence has been honest with you. We know these kingdoms will come. We also know we will not be fighting this war alone."
She glanced sideways and tilted her chin at Gaius. He stepped forward, addressing the crowd with a sonorous gravity Percival wasn't expecting.
"This conference will be bound by silence and trust," the physician spoke slowly and met every pair of eyes in the room. "Not a word that is said here shall leave this room." Suddenly he looked back over his shoulder at Merlin, whom everyone seemed to be blinking confusedly at. "I trust you know how to ensure such a thing happens?" he asked.
Merlin nodded and soundlessly held up a fist. His eyes glowed for the briefest moment and a quick gust shot across the hall. Gasps and curses and the usual affair followed, and then a few knights' hands flew to their swords. Percival barely had to glance at Leon and Gwaine before all three of them jumped to positions equidistant around the room. The three best-known knights' loyalty froze all who made as if to run.
"You will not be forced to stay," Gwen called, looking so sure and grim that even the younger knights stilled their clattering armor to listen. "You may leave this room right now, and you will not remember a single thing that has happened since you entered, but I called you here for my full disclosure.
"The alliance we must fight will be made of sorcerers and soldiers alike. You who have seen battle are used to combat like this but you are not used to having allies of your own. You have never knowingly fought on the same side as magic."
Percival felt the hush hit him like a fist. He looked over at Gwaine, who directed that harsh smile of his at anyone who dared meet his eyes, and at Leon, who looked as if he were desperately trying not to think about any of this. He was a soldier. He knew how to put aside thought for the sake of following orders.
"Excuse me? Your majesty?" a small voice finally spoke up, "…but who are they?" Percival recognized her—she was with the group of scholars and was somehow related to old man Geoffrey, standing next to her. When no one answered, she asked again, "What is he and who are they?" He remembered her name was Eideen as she gestured up at Merlin, then Maro and Iseldir.
"They represent the druids, who have pledged to join us in our cause," Gwen answered.
"Druids have no reason to show loyalty to Camelot, your majesty," Eideen continued. Percival stared—she couldn't have been any older than seventeen. Her voice twitched a little nervously, but she was loud enough, "—and they never take part in war."
Gwen tightened her mouth and moved back. "Iseldir?" she asked, quietly enough to be understood as an address, and loud enough for everyone holding back breath to hear.
Iseldir nodded and stepped forward. Without warning, Merlin hissed out another incantation from the corner of the balustrade—fire shot from his outstretched hands and everyone screamed or froze. Even Percival, who knew what was coming, shrank back, while Gwaine's unsuspecting eyes widened and a noise escaped his throat—
"Cield benath," Iseldir, front and center, held out his arms and called words clearly. Electricity pulsed over the gathering and, as all of them threw their arms up over their heads and collapsed to the ground, the fire suddenly stopped and recoiled. Merlin's flames writhed in place over Iseldir's crackling white field. When the crowd finally turned their horrified eyes up, their jaws dropped. Maro was the next to raise a hand and her eyes were the next to glow. The flames vanished, and an audible gasp sounded from the crowd.
"This man's name is Iseldir," Gwen shouted over all the room's whispers, "—and this woman's name is Maro. They and their people the druids will not attack fire a single attack in battles to come, but they have sworn to defend us."
"And him?" Eideen nodded this time at Merlin, who seemed to sink into his own shadow. He glanced at Eideen and realized she looked nearly as curious as she did scared witless.
Gwen lifted her chin and cast her stony eyes down at the girl. Her voice was that of a ruler. "Merlin has always been here, and he is not a druid."
No one said a word until Geoffery of Monmouth, Eideen's guardian and great uncle, stepped forward. "I believe I am correct in assuming, your majesty," he began, with as much gruff, somehow stuffy nobility as always, "…that you intend for this manservant sorcerer…" he shot a particular look at Merlin, who for a moment seemed about to shuffle like a cowed schoolboy, "—to teach magic to the scholars of Camelot?"
Guinevere didn't blink. "Yes."
"And these druids are to be integrated with the lower-town subjects?"
"It was Arthur's decree that Camelot and the druids would know peace."
"And all this will be done even at the cost of this breach of trust?"
The queen, for the first time, blanched. Geoffery stepped back and put his arm around a quivering Eideen. "You made it clear already that we will forget everything we see and hear during these sessions. This is a violation, your majesty. This is a removal of our free will and mind."
Geoffery held himself with a regality that could not be denied but, beyond that, his statement unsettled even Percival. From the overhang, Iseldir bowed to the old man with something like respect.
What rang next through the hall made no sense at all. Percival blinked up at Guinevere, from whom the sound came—laughter.
"I'm sorry—it's just…" but her words trailed off into laughter again as she clutched her stomach. He turned to look at Gwaine, who looked impressively bemused, and at Leon, who looked genuinely terrified. Percival didn't even dare try to gauge the reactions of everyone else in the room, so he returned his attention to the balcony. Motionless Merlin wouldn't make eye contact with Gwen or anyone else, Gaius was desperately trying to keep his eyebrow in check, Maro seemed uncomfortable, and Iseldir gazed patiently at Gwen, awaiting her response.
Finally, she cleared her throat, and smiled down at Geoffery, who tightened his hold on Eideen and pursed his lips as little as possible. "You're right, Geoffery," Gwen said, gesturing helplessly with her hands.
"Are you quite all right, your majesty?" Geoffery asked. Percival could hardly blame him—Gwen looked like a madman.
"Of course I'm not, Geoffery," Gwen shook her head, but the tears in her eyes were still from laughter. "You're right about that as well, but you see I have no other way to ensure this will work. I don't particularly like magic, you know. It was involved in the death of my father, helped corrupt my best friend, has nearly killed me a thousand times, nearly as often as it has saved my life without my permission. In short, I think this is a very confusing world, and this kingdom is worse, but tell me, truly—if I let you, how many of you would walk out of here without the desire to kill Merlin the moment his back was turned?" A giggle escaped her lips again as everyone shifted beneath her imploring stare. "He was the king's manservant, after all, and now the king is dead. How many of you, if I were to let you keep memories of these meetings, would run so far away from Camelot you'd be relieved the second you got too lost to turn back?"
The silence could have lasted five minutes and no one would have broken it. Gwen's smile faded just slightly by the end—she nodded at Merlin, who stepped forward reluctantly. "We begin tomorrow," he said. A glow of his eyes released the latch on the door.
It was amazing, really—the whole gathering showed up again the next day at the scheduled time. They wandered in with wide, interested faces, which then splintered with memory and doubt the moment the lock clicked behind them. Gwaine shook off any similar doubt as best he could and took his post, grinning broadly at any dark gazes darting his way.
"Welcome back." The greeting came from Gwen, who was not speaking from the balcony but walking around on the lower level with the rest of the crowd. She was wearing pants and boots, and had a sword at her hip. Gwaine glanced around—apparently all present were instructed to wear similar, moveable clothes. "If you'll allow me to reintroduce you to your new instructors…" she gestured at Merlin, Iseldir, Maro, and Gaius behind her, "—we'll begin. Knights and guards, to my left with Merlin and Maro. Everyone else, to my right with Gaius and Iseldir." Gwen raised her brows at Gwaine, Percival, and Leon—it was only then that Gwaine realized they were not to be excluded from these lessons. Gwen herself began circling the room, observing both groups.
The soldiers shuffled awkwardly to one side with many unpleasant mutters. It was the clear voice of Maro calling out attention that finally silenced them. She lifted her hand high in the air and stood smiling next to Merlin at the head of the huddle.
"Queen Guinevere has tasked Merlin and myself with training you to recognize sorcery from a different angle in battle." Maro was shorter than every man she addressed, but something about her directed volume and stance made her seem military. Her back remained straight even with her arm still in the sling. Merlin, standing next to her, should have dwarfed her, but instead he shrank back with hunched shoulders.
"What exactly do you mean?" one of the knights asked, with a little more bite than called for. Maro only addressed him pleasantly.
"What is your name?"
"Sir Dennis," he responded.
"Would you mind stepping forward? Up here, yes. And draw your sword."
While the knight joined her up front and drew, Gwaine frowned at Merlin. He kept swaying on his feet, as if he desperately wanted to pace, as if he were…Nervous. He's nervous. He's about to teach magic to people who've looked down their noses at him for years…bloody hell. Merlin's got stage fright.
"Now," Maro continued, standing behind the knight and resting her free hand on his upper back, which seemed to surprise him, "…I want you to attack anyone here with a weapon."
Sir Dennis paused for a moment before suddenly charging at Merlin.
It was Gwaine's first instinct to rip out his own sword and slash Dennis's arm for going anywhere near him. Merlin's surprise, however, had already vanished before Gwaine could even unsheathe the blade. He blinked his now golden eyes and a candleholder nailed to the wall flung itself into the air. The sword clashed with the rust candleholder and Dennis seemed shocked as everyone that he was able to keep himself from being hit.
Everyone, that is, except Maro. She apparently knew basic footwork and was able to follow Dennis's charge fast enough to keep her hand on his back through his entire swing at Merlin. "Fascinating as it is that you considered Merlin's magic the equivalent of a physical weapon," she spoke conversationally but Gwaine still had to keep himself from sniggering as Dennis's entire face flushed, "—why don't you try attacking someone with a sword this time?" This time, she dropped her hand and stepped back.
"I'll volunteer to be attacked," Gwaine couldn't resist piping up and drawing his sword. The smile he aimed at Dennis was loaded with dislike, and he thought he might have seen the other knight's nostril's flare in response.
"If you wish, Sir Gwaine," Maro said. "Dennis, whenever you are ready—"
He was ready immediately. The blade hit Gwaine's and the two of them sparred as they had a thousand times in ordinary training. Gwaine was the tiniest bit better than Dennis, thanks to his slightly broader imagination and therefore less stiff technique, so he wasn't surprised when Dennis started to waver.
It was as Gwaine was ready to deliver the final blow that Maro ran forward and put her hand once again on Dennis's back.
The balance shifted. Gwaine drove forward but nothing came of it. Dennis's previously drained face regained its focus and, clang after clang, he fought back. Gwaine stared at Maro, keeping step behind his opponent, for one moment too long—Dennis slashed across the air far too close to his neck before Maro took her hand away and called for a halt.
"How did you do that?" Percival's awed question was directed at Maro, not Dennis, who was also glaring at her with astonishment.
"The same way Merlin can tear nails from walls without moving a muscle," she replied. "Dennis, would you mind describing the experience?"
Dennis looked as though he did mind, but he managed to grunt out an answer anyway, "I felt stronger."
Maro nodded before addressing the rest of the knights. "Over the next few weeks, we will be training you to become accustomed to that feeling, to magic. You will forget these sessions but your muscles will retain it all.
"I am a druid. I do not attack. Defense is our primary study, but our beliefs permit us to offer power to those we trust to do with what they will."
"What if they betray it?" Gwaine's heart sank. He whirled around to see Leon, who asked the question. "What if those you trust use your power for evil?" he continued, only looking Maro in the eye.
Gwaine didn't mean for his own gaze to flicker toward Merlin, but it did. Merlin caught it and glanced back.
"That's why we almost never give it," Maro responded softly.
Everything Gwaine had ever wanted to say to Merlin flooded his head and stopped before reaching his mouth. Merlin himself, however, looked away and frowned toward someone Gwaine noticed out of the corner of his eye—Gwen.
She stepped away from the group of knights and wandered back to observe Gaius and Iseldir. The conversation was heavy with academic speak on the part of the scholars—she could barely understand it, but young Eideen seemed to be drinking it all in. Some of the lower town officials were staring open-mouthed at Merli after his display with the lamp before Iseldir noticed and gently called them all back into the discussion.
Gwen moved to one of the far sides of the room and leaned her back against the wall. She didn't feel much when Merlin walked over to take the spot on the wall next to her. They watched the lessons in silence for a while.
"All those years ago," Merlin began eventually, "…when Mordred was just a kid, Kilgarrah told me not to help Morgana save him."
Whatever Guinevere expected, that was not it. "Why would he want a druid child executed?"
Merlin shrugged. "He knew," his voice wasn't as flat as it had been. "He said Mordred was always set to kill Arthur in the end."
Gwen's heart tangled. "You knew that?" she whispered. "When he was a child?"
He nodded. "It's my fault Arthur died. Mordred is my fault."
For the first time, Gwen looked at Merlin and felt no anger. There was none left to feel, of course, but it was more than that.
He's been carrying this for so long.
"I wouldn't have done any differently," she heard herself say and mean. He turned up and stared at her. "I would have supported you, all the way through," she repeated.
"Even if you knew?" Merlin breathed.
"I wouldn't kill a child."
"And when he came back grown?"
"He wasn't an enemy," again, Gwen didn't hesitate. "Not until the moment he left for Morgana's side. You couldn't have condemned him for a crime he hadn't committed yet…" a thought struck her and she began giggling. "It's actually a miracle you managed not to kill me at the time."
"Don't laugh, Gwen," Merlin's eyes grew stony. "I thought about it."
All Gwen did was blink. "What has that bloody destiny done to you?" she asked, but the question was in wonder, not in accusation. She didn't feel hurt or horrified, she felt astounded. Sad. Tender.
Merlin swallowed and turned his head up to the ceiling. "And Morgana?" he stammered. Gwen stilled. "Would you have poisoned her to break Morgause?" he demanded quietly.
"She told me about that," Gwen remembered suddenly. "When I was under her spell, she told me what you did."
"Before she'd done anything wrong," Merlin's voice shook. "Would you have done that, Gwen? Could you have killed Morgana?"
Guinevere said nothing. No, she thought. No. I wouldn't have. But you don't need to hear that now. Instead, she looped her hand around Merlin's the way she always used to, and rested her head on his shoulder. He inhaled shakily and dropped his head on hers.
They watched the gathering learn step by step, point by point, lesson after lesson. Neither of them moved or spoke, but Gwen could feel Merlin's heartbeat gradually slow and settle. She felt a sensation begin to creep through her. I think we can do this. I think we can win.