Dreams Not Forgotten: Merlin

Merlin had been told that he was unconscious for five days after the battle with Morgana. All he remembered was the blessed sensation of rest, of knowing he was somewhere safe and warm. He heard Arthur talking to him every so often, reassuring him that all was well. The darkness no longer burned, but held him lightly, as if he was a shadow made by the moon, as if the somnolent strength of magic itself, held him steady.

He had awoken, still weak, to his king's concerned and happy gaze. And it was soon clear, to anyone with eyes to see, that the warlock improved more rapidly when Arthur was near at hand. The knights had been visiting in shifts, never leaving Merlin alone as his healing progressed. Gawaine and Leon took shifts, but Elyan and Percival were also there, and even Tristan came by a time or two. Guinevere's gentle presence was frequent, but Merlin first opened his eyes to Arthur's insistent voice, and he was awake at first only when Arthur was present. Later, as he gained strength, he was able to stay awake only for brief periods, but usually fell asleep if Arthur left the room.

This was a matter of much amusement for Arthur, indeed for all the knights, who laughed and teased Merlin without mercy. And of course the presence of an invisible injury that required constant care and bedrest, was too precious to ignore. Gaius grew infuriated and threw the lot of them out at least once a day. But beneath the banter, was the mystery that had brought them back together.

Gaius and Alice debated arcane theories but Merlin said little, knowing deep in his heart that fate had wrought a miracle with equal measures of his own magic and the strength of one loyal, very human heart. So it pained Merlin, that Arthur's eyes went shuttered at times, and he could no longer meet Merlin's gaze when that subject was touched upon.

It ate at Merlin, bit by bit, as if the long years of his secret had made him unfit to bear another division between the king and himself.

Gawaine had been regaling Merlin with a lively account of meeting a one armed farmer with a pet bear, who could drink ale as well as any knight. The tale was unclear as to who drank as well as any knight, the bear or the farmer, or who had one arm for that matter. Gawaine insisted the bear had challenged him to a drinking contest, although Merlin was laughing at how anyone could judge the bear's inebriation compared to Gawaine's. He laughed so hard it made his chest hurt. He was still wincing in pain and merriment when Arthur came through the door.

"Good thing I brought this," said Arthur, with a smile, as he set a vial of golden liquid on the table. "Better take it. Gaius and Alice will have my head if you don't."

"Do as Princess says Merlin, or you'll be sorry." said Gawaine laughing. "You'll be as sorry as the bear!"

"Sorrier!"

The knight left with a wink and a promise of an outing to the tavern as soon as Merlin could be trusted to be strong enough to bring Gawaine home. 'Stumbling strong', as Gawaine would say.

Arthur slid into the chair opposite Merlin's. There were books piled around the bed and near the chairs. Some neatly stacked and others in haphazard piles. Sheets of parchment stuck out at odd angles from some of the closed books. There was a scroll on top. Merlin picked it up and handed it to Arthur.

Arthur gave his friend a reasonable imitation of Gaius' sardonic gaze.

"What is this?"

"Poetry. You know, poetry. You loved the stuff when Mithian was here, remember."

The king smiled, looking down at the scroll again.

"What does it say? You obviously want to tell me."

"I used it for the spell." Merlin spoke softly, feeling his heart pound a little. "The spell I used when I fought Morgana. "

Merlin could see the shift of feeling in Arthur's eyes. He was quiet for a long time. He looked up at his friend, finally.

"I remember." He paused. The sweep of the dream he had felt when Merlin had said that those words washed over him again. "You said the same spell again, later ,in the store room." The king looked away, remembering the unbearable. "Merlin, " he began, but the warlock interrupted.

"It is a very old poem, written by the bard, Aneirin. He lived around the same time as Taliesein... and he is describing a battle, and his liege. It spoke to me the first time I read it, and I just knew..."

Arthur looked curious. The letters were archaic and in a different language, some of them ornamented in colors, but Merlin knew the text well. He took a breath as he began to read.

"Man's mettle, youth's years,

Courage for combat,"

He translated as he looked at the document, moving his finger along for Arthur's benefit, for he knew it by heart. Arthur looked at him, unable to speak and then looked down at the scroll again.

"Glittering blue blades,

Gold-bordered garments,"

Merlin could feel the sweep of time fade away in the immediacy of the image. Here was Arthur and the world he knew, the world they hoped to better. A kingdom of strength and justice, of true nobility and heartfelt beauty, the time of Albion.

"Never will there be,

Bitterness between us:

Rather I make of you,

Song that will praise you."

He put the scroll on the table and pushed himself to stand, leaning a bit on the chair to get himself to his feet. His chest still pained him, and the memory of the burning darkness surfaced for a moment from the depths of his heart. He staggered for moment, but Arthur was beside him immediately.

He took the king's arm gratefully and gestured to the window, moving slowly as he pushed the heavy curtain back with practiced ease. The square below was quiet, empty, but the lights of the lower town were bright. He leaned against the sill, taking in the peace and quiet, gazing up at the stars that shone like a mist of magic against the velvet dark. He felt like a boy again, like the young man who had walked into Camelot so many years ago.

"I planned that spell a long time ago," he began softly. " I crafted it to hold my hope, my dreams that someday I would be free, that magic would return to Camelot." He paused, trying to find a way to explain the enchantment to Arthur.

"Every time I saved you, Arthur. Every time I fought for Camelot in secret, when everything seemed hopeless and I thought you would never accept my gift for what it was. Every time I couldn't tell you what I had done. When I swallowed my shame and lied to you, to keep my magic safe, I would dream of this day," he paused again. Merlin wondered if he was making sense. "And I made that spell."

"I wove that spell from my heart and my soul, Arthur. Because I believed this day would come. Because I knew no matter how much magic could be persecuted and rejected, the day of freedom must come. It is more than a spell or an enchantment, it is my own hope, my own strength, that is knit into the land, Arthur, into the stones of Camelot itself. I am a creature of magic. " he said softly. Arthur opened his mouth as if to speak, but Merlin stopped him.

" I built that spell out of my trust in you, when I had no other hope. I forged it out of my loyalty, out of the destiny that binds us together. It will stand as long as I live and perhaps, beyond. History is easily forgotten, but dreams are not."

Arthur was silent. His eyes were deep and still, their blue depths unreadable. Merlin had lost his fear that he would find no welcome there.

"I will never understand you Merlin! Even now." Arthur took a breath and laughed with an ease that Merlin envied. "Even when I know at least some of your secrets, I don't think I will ever really understand everything about you. Except this one thing."

"What," laughed Merlin. "That I'm the worst servant in five kingdoms? That you can't make it without me?"

"No, that's not it!" However true those things were, he certainly wasn't going to tell Merlin. He looked about to cuff his friend on the shoulder, but thought better of it, He lay a gentle hand on his arm instead. "You will never cease to surprise me."

It was clear from Arthur's eyes that he wanted to say more, but he couldn't find the words. Merlin gave him a playful shove and Arthur smiled, simply thankful that his best friend was by his side.

"I thought I understood loyalty, Merlin.I thought I lived by it's code. Or I thought I did, until this whole thing began to unfold. Only now do I see how your loyalty has compelled you to do things. I... I never realized how heavy the burden of a lie can be. Especially a lie that protects. When I spoke at your funeral..." He grimaced at the terrible darkness of those words, "When everyone thought you were gone, I suddenly realized how you must have struggled, how hiding your magic must have worn you down. And I didn't help...The things I said, the chores I gave you, my disregard. Whatever secrets you have Merlin, I know in my heart, that you have sacrificed all of it for Camelot. And now you tell me this..." He ducked his head, unwilling to say more as he looked at his friend.

Their eyes met, understanding was born, but from a trust so deep, nothing else was needed. Somehow Merlin knew this moment would exist in eternity, completing his spell.

Merlin felt something stir in the wind then. It swept out of the night through the window where they stood together, flowing over him with a heady sweetness. To his awareness of magic, it was like the scent of morning, of flowers and sunlight; a breeze of warmth that swept over him. Merlin's vision wavered. The stirring of magic was so potent that it stripped him of what little strength he had; his head spun.

"Arthur," he choked out, as he fell. He found himself on his knees and Arthur was holding him up. The king was calling his name, trying to rouse him. He felt himself gently lowered to the ground. Soon his friend was pouring the contents of the vial down his throat as quickly as he could.

"Gaius and Alice are on their way Merlin. Can you hear me? C'mon Merlin! Finish this before they get here.' As Merlin swallowed, he could hear Arthur rabbiting on in a panic. He was coming back to himself. "Gaius is going to hang me," muttered the king.

The warlock nodded. "Yeah, he will," he whispered. It took him a moment to find his smile. Arthur snorted in disgust, but he sank back in relief as he realized that Merlin was aware again. "What happened? What was that? Really, Merlin, you can't expect me to put up with you swooning like a girl six times a day." He stopped himself, looking carefully at his friend, trying to gauge what was happening. There was a commotion out in the hallway.

"Don't lay there looking half dead, you idiot." Arthur tried to help Merlin sit up, but the warlock was clearly too weak to support himself, and he sank back into Arthur's arms with a whuff of relief. His head was spinning and the suspicion of what had just happened lightened his heart still further. He would have to tell Arthur later. The young warlock smiled.

"Try not to move, Merlin," hissed Arthur fiercely.