Enchantments: Merlin

Mercy... The word reverberated through Merlin's heart as Morgana slithered from her seer's trance and became the darkness he knew best.

Perhaps if he had trusted to the mercy of his heart, Morgana would not be standing here now, her eyes malevolent, her spirit tangled forever in a web of anger and betrayal. Merlin reminded himself that only a fool mistakes remorse for mercy. An eternity of regrets would not bring back the girl she had been. Yet there had been enough death and destruction, enough darkness between them to last many lifetimes. Perhaps the moment for mercy was now.

The voice of Kilgarrah rose in warning in his heart. Perhaps it was his mercy that had brought him to this day. But no, here in this eternal moment, in the space between what had happened and what legend would write in the hearts of the people, there was this moment of truth. Surely, that too, must be the moment of mercy.

"Morgana," whispered Merlin, but the plea echoed only in Morgana's heart, for only she could hear it. It was the smallest of whispers. It was a hope so frail, so tender, that surely it had no chance of surviving the whirlwind of Morgana's heart. But hope is hard to kill. The witch hardly felt the spell take hold. Merlin smiled. Here was his only mercy. She had shown him the burning darkness that lived in her heart, she had tortured him with it. Here was his answer. The spell had taken hold firmly now. Merlin felt it's insistent pull.

"Go, Morgana," said Arthur quietly. "Take the mercy we offer you and go." Merlin felt a surge of weakness, as if his strength was draining from him, but there was no break in the battle. He called upon his magic to shore up his stamina for the immediate moment. It filled him, like water, moving to encompass all of him now, even his darkest pain soothed under the flow of his magic.

"You will not dismiss me like a dog, here in the place that is my home," she cried, her voice rising harsh and dark. She was mad with rage, seeking some outlet of violence to relieve the burning within her. From her hip belt, she drew her jeweled dagger and flung it at Arthur. In the enclosed space of the magic circle, her aim was true.

Merlin reacted from his deepest self. Time slowed. The dagger was speeding end over end, nearing Arthur even in the slowed time stream. The sight was familiar. He had just met the prat and a witch was singing. It was so insanely simple that Merlin laughed as he snatched the dagger from the air itself, dropping it to the ground and loosing time into the typical stream. A fire shot through him. He turned as he released the dagger from his hand and he felt himself stumble. He was suddenly sickeningly dizzy, but he stayed on his feet.

"Never" he told Morgana, his mental voice echoing in her head. The dagger had been spelled, meant for him, not for Arthur. Morgana was nothing if not persistent. Somehow he knew that Morgana's vengeance could not be satisfied until she killed Merlin and could begin her fatal torture of Arthur. But Merlin meant 'never'. Her power would never touch Arthur, if he had any means to stop her.

Magic filled him once more. Power flooded him like the roar of a summer flood, gushing in powerful currents, shoving aside whatever stood in it's path, sweeping everything away. Elemental, his magic spread out over the land. Spirits and wonders that dwelt in Camelot answered to his call. Deep in the waters,in streams and lakes, wells and ponds his power called. In the heights of the cool mountains where the ice never disappeared, magic rang like a crystal. It's voice pierced into the deep forests and caves,where the stone grew in fountains and waterfalls of crystal. In the wind, magic soughed in the trees, raising it's voice to the clouds. It whispered freedom to the purged objects kept secret in the dark vaults of Camelot. All that was magic woke to Merlin's call. Their voices raised in Morgana's mind. She screamed in agony. His magic tore at her, striking at her soul; the roar of his wind ate at her heart. "Never!"

Morgana was rising in a flood of black wind trying to transport herself away, but Merlin's shield still held and she weakened. She could not avoid the roar of magic that rose up around her in a mighty crescendo. He heard her echoing cry of despair as she tried to leave the magic circle again. She flung herself against the barrier again and again, her screams weakening as Merlin's shield drained her. Taking a chance, Merlin dropped the shield, the power immediately evaporated in shimmering motes of gold. The witch was gone in an instant, the air around them clearing. The crowd erupted in a roar and he came to his feet. He felt stunned.

He turned to Arthur, still shocked they were alive. They were alive! The king's eyes were blazing and Arthur had his arm around him in a mighty embrace. Merlin had never felt such joy.

"I'm free" he gasped, laughing out loud. The sense of shock was bizarre. Arthur took his hand and held it up in the air, along with his, a gesture of victory. Everything was unreal. The knights were suddenly rioting all around them. Gawaine was lifting him up and there was cheering. Guinevere was laughing in Arthur's arms and Leon was clapping him on the back. Elyan and Tristan were beside him,wordless and merry as boys. Merlin threw himself into Gaius' arms, brushing off his look of concern with a familiar grin. Percival was parting the crowd and they were moving to the castle in a blur. The crowd was cheering for Arthur and people were calling for him. They were calling his name too. The crowd was throwing flowers. People had brought flowers to his funeral. The idea struck him as so ludicrous that he found himself either laughing or sobbing; he wasn't quite sure which. The crowd pressed on him and his head swam. His vision righted after a moment, but it it happened once more. Then again.

Something was wrong. Merlin kept moving, he had to get to Arthur. He wasn't bleeding. His searching hand found no wounds but he felt the dizziness return and he faltered as the crowd swept him further along. He could no longer see Gaius. Arthur was far ahead, and so was Guinevere. His head reeled but he was confused. Something was wrong. He wondered where he could rest until the weakness passed. Dimly, the thought disturbed him, but he let it go. So tired. At last he found himself pressed against the cool marble of a familiar hallway and he found a store room door. He was just so tired. He just needed to stop for a second. He looked down dully at his chest as he leaned against the wall, but again, he saw no wound. He rested his head against the wall. It was so cool against his cheek. He felt a surge of heat and sweating as hIs legs gave way slowly and he slid down the wall.

Morgana was gone, somewhere, and he wondered when his spell would start to work on her. It was more subtle than hers. He wasn't even sure what form it would take. He was free. Free! Magic had returned to it's place in Camelot. Arthur was the king of prophecy. These things passed through his mind in a jumble of happiness as he lay on the floor. The warlock smiled. He felt lightheaded again, even though he was on the ground. The shadowy shapes in the storeroom were growing larger and smaller. Merlin closed his eyes. He heard people calling his name out in in the hallway. He called out with his mind and heard Alice's gentle reply immediately.

She opened the door a minute later. She lifted him carefully, calling his name. He smiled wearily at her, relaxed and trusting under her capable hands. She was checking him over, gauging his injuries with a silent pass of her hands and a spell in her eyes.

"Swallow." she murmured. The syrupy liquid tasted of mint, but he didn't regain his strength. Alice's alarm increased as minutes passed. Gaius entered but Merlin must not have noticed because the old man was lowering himself to his knees painfully when he first noticed him. He smiled, but Gaius did not.

"Merlin," His voice shocked.

Alice leapt in to explain as much as she knew quickly, trying to calm the old physician with information.

" He took two strikes during the battle Gaius, a red shadow..., you saw them too!" A glance passed between the couple. " I had never seen it's like, so I didn't know what had happened. These are very severe injuries. " She struggled to communicate the concept to her partner, their minds connecting as her eyes flared gold. "He's bleeding out, but it's not a wound we can see. I'm not sure he even knew he was injured at first. It's a psychic blow to his life force..." Her voice faltered, softening as she came to a terrible truth. "My love," she whispered, "his strength is nearly gone." Gaius visibly shrank into himself, but he lay a gentle hand on Merlin's forehead.

"I'm so happy," murmured Merlin, caught by the dark sadness in his mentor's eyes. He smiled even though his eyes burned with tears. Alice was heading for the door and his head spun as Gaius carefully lifted him in his arms. His mentor held him comfortingly against his chest. The physician's magic was flaring, bracing his strength a little, like pressure on a wound. Gaius would never stop fighting for him. He was so thankful even if there wasn't much hope.

Alice's voice was further away now. She was sending for the king. He drifted in Gaius' arms, thinking of how odd it would be to see Arthur in a store room. The old man held him close, his grip firm, but he would not meet Merlin's eyes. He wanted Gaius to know it was all right.

"I'm happy, " he said again, trying to sound strong. His eyes were pleading with the old physician for something he could not even acknowledge. He could see Gaius was beyond speaking. "I'm free, Gaius." It was getting harder to talk and the old man tried to quiet him, but he couldn't, he wouldn't listen. "You're free too... and Alice." His vision was swimming now, but he could still make out his dear mentor's face. "I'm happy," he said softly, putting as much comfort into his voice as he could.

Time was short as he focused inward, thinking of Arthur, his heart complete with joy again. He summoned the spell that had lit his heart with hope, that forged the dream of Camelot anew. If he set the spell again,if he could guide the magic clearly enough, part of him would be bound to Camelot forever. Time was running out. Arthur would be here soon. He closed his eyes, focusing what remained of his strength.

"Gredef gwr oed gwas,

Gwerhyt am dias," he whispered.

Arthur's hair was shining in the sun and Excalibur was in his hand. The sword sang for him alone.

"Ethy eur aphan,

Ny bi ef a vi."

Arthur was riding, and the wind caught his cloak in extravagant folds. His mail glittered and he turned back to look at Merlin. Arthur was somewhere close. He could feel his familiar strength near at hand.

"Cas e rofa thi,"

"Gwell gwnief a thi. "

The king was crashing into the room, flashing black and silver in the gloom.

"What happened?" Arthur's voice was aghast. "When the battle was over, he was fine, we were..." He reached out, trembling, to touch Merlin's hand where it lay on the floor. Merlin arched at his touch, pain shot through him like the slash of a blade..

"Alice," Gaius called out, in sudden hope, as he felt a change in his ward. She passed her hands slowly over Merlin and nodded in silent agreement with Gaius. She motioned for the older man to move him into Arthur's arms. "It's slowing." she said breathlessly. Merlin panted, unable to stop them.

Arthur was knee to knee with Gaius. He reached for his friend, but the warlock's body jerked as Arthur slid his arms beneath him. Merlin heaved in sudden agony, struggling against Gaius. The king withdrew. Merlin knew that despite his courage, Arthur couldn't bear to hurt him like that. He collapsed in the physician's arms in immediate relief, but he looked up at Arthur, pleading to finish the spell wordlessly, and he saw Arthur retreat, as if he understood. He felt a swelling in his strength.

He pulled the threads of his spell into the weaving that would bind him. It took all his thought; it took every last bit of his heart. The brief rally of energy had rapidly faded, and he struggled to finish the spell. He believed in what he was saying. It was bound in his destiny, but the true strength of the spell lay in something mortal, something rare and worth great sacrifice.

"Ar wawt dy voli,

Kynt y waet elawr."

The king was standing on the parapets of Camelot, the white towers shining behind him, the image of the dragon of Camelot was fluttering in the wind, blazing colors of red and gold. Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King. Exhausted and spent, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Arthur was there. But it was not the figure of legend, it was his friend, Arthur, the clotpole prince, the king of cabbage heads. He could see his friend was terrified and furious and out of his depth. He was sorry for so many things, but not for this moment. Camelot was safe. Arthur was beside him. It could have ended so much worse, he told himself.

Like images in the crystal cave, he saw Arthur's future change as the consequences of his sacrifice, moved through the possibilities like a wave, like a the wind over the grass. New endings emerged, some dark, some bright. There were so many things he had wanted to say, but even that omission could not mar Merlin's happiness. There was a roar of thunder outside, a trembling in the very heart of the castle, deep in the caverns of darkness below. The wind sang around the towers of his home. Truly, in this moment he couldn't ask for more.

" For Albion," thought the warlock. He was still smiling faintly, when his eyes dropped shut at last.