Warning: Bit of Morgana/Gwen slashiness if you squint. Femslash. Didn't plan for that... ANGST. I like it. Character death. Mild Shakespeare references. Violence. Yes, this fic is full of objectionable material so apologies if this isn't your cup of tea.
They leave with little fanfare in the grey blanket of first light. Arthur entrusts his Kingdom to Sir Galehaut and Morgana without much fretting, he had utter confidence that both were more than capable. He noted, with some unease, that his sister still looks tired and fragile as if a great gust of wind could sweep her off her feet. Arthur would wish he did not have to add this extra burden on her but he had long since abandoned such regrets. If the golden-haired man had to name regrets even in his young life, he would not be a King. He knows his duty and Morgana knows hers. She farewells him with a feeble smile. Kissing him on both cheeks before she let him go, she felt like Judas.
The Camelot party are on their way without a hitch even as the sun climbs to its perch. Merlin is glad they are arriving as an official royal party instead of merely a King's representative; he could nap in the carriage. The warlock knows Arthur disliked being carried around as a maiden but even he could understand that riding for two days with minimal rest would leave him too exhausted to keep up with the diplomatic verbal dancing and fully appreciate the festivities. Plus this was as much of a show as anything. Arthur was born a King but his charm made him a natural performer. Merlin spends most of his time awake going through defensive spells. Arthur tunes out the muttering of magical nonsense and checks up on their progress, ever the watchful Knight. Mordred rides up front with the knights ready to signal Merlin with his telepathic speech. Now a teenaged boy, he had made quick friends in the knights to Merlin's surprise. Merlin supposed the mutual appreciation of King Arthur is an irresistible bonding item. The knights Sirs Lancelot, Caradoc, Constantine, Gareth, Kay and Dagonet had already been briefed by the warlock. Dressing as Arthur, Constantine had agreed to be the decoy.
"He doesn't look like me," Arthur complained. "Plus the royal carriage is trailing behind Constantine. Wouldn't anyone just assume I'm in the carriage?"
"The point is to confuse the attacker or more likely attackers, Sire," Merlin huffs, injecting as much derision into the title as possible. "It was hard enough this morning to get your horse to accept Constantine as his mount."
"Philippe knows his master," Arthur preens, practically levitating with pride.
"Yeah, he is as picky as you are."
"What is that supposed to mean? Why are you acting like a maiden with her monthly lady part problems?"
The brunet jutted his jaw out stubbornly. "I am not."
"You look like you're riding to a funeral. Cheer up, it's just a wedding celebration. I thought you said you liked holidays," Arthur said chirpily, pulling the curtains back. "Anyway, you don't even have to wear the great feathered hat now."
Merlin bites his tongue to keep from ruining Arthur's good mood. He forces a smile at Arthur before returning to his arsenal of enchantments. The warlock spends most of the journal consulting his book. Arthur decides that sleeping is better than trying to talk to Merlin when he's like this. He figures if it worked with Morgana, it should totally work with Merlin.
*
The first night in Mercia passes peacefully in the former manservant's opinion, aside from Arthur's moaning. "Why didn't you think to bring along a manservant or something? Even the Knights are allowed to bring squires..."
"You didn't pack my favourite doublet? I hope you remembered my ceremonial gear..."
"I wonder if you can use your magic to summon my doublet."
Merlin wonders if it counts as treason to summon a gag of some sort so he can shut Arthur up. Knowing Camelot's archaic rules, it probably is a crime written somewhere in the archives. It's not actually the whinging that is doing him in, though Merlin thinks he is reaching his wit's ends with that also, it is that the King seems entirely unconcerned about his own safety. Arthur, the King who is also a Prat, or the Prat who is also King.
"I wish you'd worry just a little more about the fact that you might only have days to live," Merlin said bitterly, finally cracking with the stress and Arthur's incessant complaints.
Arthur stops rifling through the trunk. He gives Merlin his most disarming smile. "All the more reason to enjoy the time I have left with you." Despite his light tone, Merlin can see that the King of Camelot is completely serious. The warlock feels his resolve weakening in the face of Arthur's inextinguishable cheer.
"It's not that I don't care," Arthur said, meeting his lover's angry eyes. "I do, I really do. But I never let that stop me from doing my duty. I'm not going to let it stop me this time either. I trust you, Merlin. With my life." He encloses Merlin in his embrace, one hand on his lover's chest, feeling the steady heartbeat of the warlock pulsing beneath his fingers.
With Arthur's warm arms around him, Merlin found that he couldn't stay angry.
*
In Camelot, Lady Morgana is roaming the empty halls of the castle, a pale spectre, eyes unseeing.
Gwen startles awake in Morgana's bed and instantly knows that she is alone. She calls the guards, keeping the panic from her voice. Focus Gwen, she tells herself. "Where is Lady Morgana?"
"The Lady Morgana is taking a stroll in the gardens."
Gwen rifles through the closet for Morgana's fur wrap. Throwing a thick cloak over her sleeping shift, Gwen hurries outside to find Morgana. She spots her across the courtyard, packing back and forth with a lamp.
"Lady Morgana?"
Morgana is focused on her pacing. Muttering under her breath. The candle flickers unsteadily and the moonlight gives Morgana's features an ashen hue. She is wearing a flimsy thing without a cloak.
"Lady Morgana!"
Her handmaiden's sharp cry breaks the spell. "Gwen?" Morgana blinks as her maid drapes the wrap about her.
"You'll catch your death without a cloak!" Gwen admonishes. "I think you should come back to bed, my lady. You have a long day tomorrow."
"I cannot rest," Morgana says tonelessly. "I don't want to see him die again."
"I wish you would ask for a sleeping draught, my lady." Gwen takes the lamp from Morgana, using the light to examine her mistress's condition. "Your lips are turning blue. You'll wear yourself out like this."
"I can't, Gwen. I don't know what to do. I have to know," Morgana said, rubbing warm into her frigid hands. "I need to see. He's going to die. He's going to die." She repeats the mantra over and over as her maid guides her gently back to bed.
The dream is a little different but the outcome is the same. All that is left is a wasteland, ashes blowing in the wind. Lumps of metal glint in the debris. Is it Arthur's sword, his chain mail, his crown? Where has he gone?
Gwen feels a stab of guilt lance through her as she hears Morgana wake up with a soft gasp, immediately sick into the vase of wildflowers by her bedside. She covers her lady's bony fingers with her own dark-skinned digits, rough from work. Her mistress immediate clutches her hand tightly.
"I'll send for a maid to fetch some water, my lady," Gwen says, injecting as much comfort in her voice as she can. "I won't leave you, alright?" She kissed Morgana on the forehead and smoothed out the covers with her left hand, determined not to let her lady go.
*
At the wedding celebrations, Arthur struts around like peacock and Merlin tries not to laugh at his haughty act. He even fluffs his hair as he hovers around Merlin, keen to make sure that they make a good impression. Merlin lost track of the names ages ago and settles for a smile and a nod.
"You idiot! That was the Queen of Genovia!" Arthur hisses when Merlin bollocks it up by doing the wrong gesture. Apparently you have kiss the Queen on both hands instead of just one. Merlin might have called her 'Your Highness' by accident but he thinks he covered it up pretty well with a subtly-timed cough even though the Queen sniffed haughtily.
"Thought she looked kind of familiar."
Arthur sighed in that put upon way. "Do try to get it right this time. This is General Urien's brother, he's a Captain so don't...do anything that will get your head chopped off." He strode up confidently, back straight and crimson cape flowing behind him. "I'm King Arthur of Camelot and this is Merlin, pleased to meet you."
"I'm Captain Bajorn and this is my wife, Lady Masala. Pleased to meet you also, Your Majesties."
"Um...I'm not uh...well I'm not like Art- I'm not a King," Merlin said wondering if it would be worse to masquerade as a Camelot noble or whether it would be rude to correct the host's brother. He decides the former is worse since misleading the host's brother may lead to potential humiliation tha may or may not end up with his head being on the chopping block.
"I apologise, I assumed wrongly. How should I address you?"
"Merlin will do." The warlock spares a glance at Arthur. Right, he stuffed it up? Arthur has his palm on his forehead and he's not sure what that means.
"Well...Merlin. I've heard many interesting things about you."
"You have? Good things I hope." Merlin figures that either Arthur's formal robes have an itchy collar or Arthur is trying to tell him to stop talking. Luckily, Captain Bajorn does not seem to mind Merlin's lack of finesse in social pleasantries.
The dinner was embarrassing. Merlin kept having to explain that he was not actually a Queen, Consort or noble anything. Why yes he does have a penis and could they please not ask about that. Merlin decided that nobles were actually quite nosy in their own polite way. He was going to have to get Arthur to teach him how to say "Mind your own damn business" in a really nice, poncy way. Merlin has the unenviable task of trying to explain what it is that he does for Arthur (avoiding of course any potentially embarrassing subjects). Officially he is an advisor. The warlock does not have a title – actually he's kind of still Arthur's manservant. He thinks with all the times he's saved Arthur's life he should at least have the title of something rather spectacular.
It was even more awkward when Nadorian Captain Saavik and Lieutenant Garrulean congratulated Merlin on his 'unconventional engagement' during the after dinner drinks and said something about being "proud that we have such brothers-in-arms". Even Arthur choked a little on his wine with that comment. He left Merlin with a friendly pat on the back, citing the need to discuss something with Emperor Wang. Prat, Merlin curses silently as Arthur abandons him. The brunet warlock tries to hide himself in a corner somewhere but unfortunately red is a rather noticeable colour and people keep trying to talk to him.
Arthur is currently engaged in a lively discussion with the newly wedded bride and groom didn't seem too inclined on helping him out. Maybe he was put out that everyone seemed more interested in his choice of partner than him, Merlin thought ruefully. Later, Arthur would claim with a smirk that he was trying to be considerate by drawing less attention to their relationship,
So when the representative of another hard to pronounce Kingdom greet him as a "Queen", Merlin corrects them with an awkward grin. He figures that if he makes it sound like a joke, they might not be as prone to be offended. Merlin has come to expect an apology or perhaps a stumble in the conversation and then a hasty exit but Lord Marcus gives him a knowing wink. The nobleman has a deep tan, his smile crinkling the crow's feet at the corner of his eyes.
"Been getting that a lot, Merlin?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"There's no need to do that, really. Call me Mark."
Merlin likes him immediately, clasping Mark's hand warmly. "Mark it is."
"Pardon me for my intrusion, but I understand that you are not noble-born?"
"It's fine." Merlin sipped at his wine, tasting berries and spices. "It's true, I'm not. I can't see why everyone would think I look like Kingly material," Merlin waves his hands around vaguely, not sounding at all like the village idiot.
In a conspiratorial low voice, Mark leaned towards Merlin close enough so that the warlock could smell the tangerine that the Lord must have been eating. "I am a Lord by marriage to my Lady. I know how it feels to be out of place." He gives the brunet a sympathetic glance before continuing. "I have heard of your great powers Merlin and let me tell you, you are more useful to your King than a wife. The reason why the other nobles keep mistaking you for nobility is because of your presence beside your King at the high table negates everything else. Even now, the way he looks at you..."
The warlock gulped some more wine to cover the flush rising to his cheeks. Is it that obvious? "H-He does?"
"Oh yes, Merlin. Let's say between you and me, if he announces a betrothal right now, no one would raise any objection. I doubt there would be anyone that's surprised. Nadorians are quite supportive of your relationship and General Urien is here. You do know that your King taking you here is as good as saying you are his Consort?"
Feeling like the wine has got to his head, Merlin squeaked gracelessly, "Betrothal? Oh?"
"You are not his wife no but you are more than that. King Arthur's equal in power, in every way. It is an exception honour, Merlin. I think a few of the queens might even be a little envious."
That would explain why all the females seem to hate me, Merlin though. It really is all Arthur's fault.
Whispering into the warlock's ear, Mark said, "Tell me, does the King allow you to top him?"
At this Merlin's eyes pop out and he thinks he might have spat out a little of his drink. He dabbles quickly at the front of his Pendragon tunic with as much refinement as he can muster. The warlock is careful not to wish too hard for the ground to swallow him up in case his wish magic activates.
"You have more power than you think, Merlin. Trust me, even if you get on your knees for him – you have him by the balls." Mark winks at Merlin again before squeezing the warlock's forearm firmly. "Do not be shamed by this power. You are a god amongst mere mortals and if your King has not told you this, he is a fool." The Lord walks off to mingle with the others again and Merlin is left alone. He motions for the serving girl to top up his wine, resisting the urge to grab the pitcher himself and top up everyone's wine around him. Right, you're not a manservant anymore, Merlin, get a hold on yourself, he told himself.
Merlin grips his goblet casually even as he feels the magic coming from the cup. Someone has activated the poison but there are so many people in the room it would be impossible to know who it was. It is so powerful he can detect it even without needing to look. Still, it's laughable. He could feel the power of the spelled poison. What a foolish move, he thought. I'm not so daft that I would sit there and let myself be poisoned. The warlock vanishes the drink with a sleight of hand, pretending to drink it. It's a trick he did with Will a long time ago and he wished he could tell him that it actually did come in handy.
The former manservant summons the same servant girl again with a smile. "Please tell the host the wine prepared for me was most....exquisite and that I enjoyed it immensely." It's a slow acting poison so he deduces that they are not going to strike right away. He doesn't dwell on this, concerned only for the safety of his lover. Looking around, Merlin located Arthur easily. He's had a lot of practice with finding Arthur.
"There you are Merlin." Arthur says. To the untrained eye, the King of Camelot looks only slightly mussed but Merlin knows him well enough to know that he is at least tipsy, approaching intoxication.
"Arthur, I think you've had enough."
"Mer-lin. You always ruin the fun. Come on, let's enjoy the night. Nothing's happened, has it?"
Merlin decides that Arthur doesn't need to know now plus, nothing did happen. Technically. "No, but I'm not going to wait for something to happen," Merlin says determinedly. Giving the newly wedded couple his congratulations on his way out as per custom, Merlin excused Arthur and himself.
In the privacy of their rooms, Merlin says indignantly, "You have no idea how many times I had to explain to a noble such and such that no we are not or have not got married and no I am not your wife."
"Well you are a girl, Merlin. Morgana is more of a man than you are," Arthur said, slipping the heavy cape from his shoulders.
"If you keep going on like that I'm going to tell her that you missed her terribly... and hey I'm more powerful than you."
"Only because I let you."
Merlin throws himself at Arthur at this comment and they tussle as if they were boys again. Without magic or much strength at all, Arthur gains the upper hand easily. Merlin is highly susceptible to being tickled and one well-placed poke in the side leaves him squirming and breathless. The King only stumbles slightly as he gathers his laughing lover across his back, carrying him to their bed.
*
Gwen only wishes that she could hear Morgana laugh. It has been so long since she's seen Morgana really happy.
"I can't bear to see it anymore." Lady Morgana's eyes are red and puffy, framed by dark shadows.
The dark-skinned maid strokes her mistress's back softly, hoping to lend her some strength.
"You don't have to be here Gwen, you'll be tired tomorrow. I'll be...I'll manage."
"I know." But I want to. "I couldn't leave you like this." Helplessness wells inside the maid and she pushes it away, focusing on running her fingers softly through her Lady's hair. Gwen picks up a brush.
"Why don't I braid your hair?" Gwen says with deliberate optimism.
"Thank you, Gwen," Morgana says with feeling. "You're the best companion a lady could ask for."
The two ladies settle into a comfortable silence. Gwen decides on an intricate woven style, completely with a delicate laced net and streaming ribbons. It's a style that she has not attempted on Morgana since she was a young teenage girl and she soon finds herself settling into the rhythmic weaving, reminiscing with Morgana.
"Do you remember Sir Elton?" They both laugh at the memory. Gwen tries to keep this memory in her mind, the beautiful sound of her lady's laughter. The way her eyes twinkled in the candlelight. The way Morgana's face regained a bit of her colour. It is not hard to see then why her beauty is unrivalled throughout the Kingdom.
Finally, when it is done, Morgana looks refreshed.
"You look beautiful, my lady. As always."
"Only because you make me so."
Then Morgana insists that they play dress up for a while and Gwen relents, allowing her mistress to don her finery on her. They dance merrily as two beautiful ladies and Morgana lets herself forget that Gwen is her handmaiden and that they can be something more than the positions that they were born to fulfil.
Sometime after Morgana is holding the lamp, exhausted but unable, unwilling to succumb. Gwen has dressed in one of Morgana's spare sleeping gowns, enjoying the feel of the luxurious silk on her skin. Keep it, Morgana had said.
"I'm scared to fall asleep, Gwen."
Judging from the weariness scarring Morgana once again, Gwen deduces that her lady wishes to walk in the cold to force herself to keep away.
"I'll stay up with you." She will hold the lamp to light Morgana's path and she will guard over her lady's steps to ensure that she will not stumble to strike her heel against a stone. Gwen will pace the world a thousand times if she has to – for Morgana, for her King, for Camelot's sake.
*
Arthur wakes up with Merlin next to him, sitting hunched over another tome, mumbling about another spell. The blond-haired man groaned. "My head. Oh my head."
"The dragon told me that I was to be your protector, not your hangover remedy," Merlin grouses but he takes the pain from Arthur anyway.
The King notices that his adviser is in a better mood. "You love me."
"That's why I need you alert okay? I can't lose you."
"I'll be fine. Did you finally found what you were looking for?"
The warlock gives Arthur a tight grin, "Yes. Be careful, Arthur."
"Always."
"Now go get dressed. I've already fixed everything for us so we're good to go. I just need to go talk to Lancelot."
Merlin finds Lancelot getting the weapons ready. Mordred and Dagonet are sharing a joke. The warlock spares no words, "Same deal. Constantine please get in your 'King Arthur' gear and Lancelot if you could give me everyone's weapons, I'll charm them again before we go. Remember: Arthur is not to be left unattended at any time."
*
Senses on high alert, his magic sweeping the area for hostile magic-users, Merlin is vigilant as they move towards Camelot. The closer they are to home, the closer they are to safety or perhaps danger. Merlin wishes premonitions could be a bit more exact. Morgana's memory tells him that they will be attacked soon but they have a timeframe of two days and two days is a long time to be waiting.
At the stopover, King Arthur does not cease being a prat and Merlin feels tempted to put him over his knee and spank him until his ass is as red as his cape. "I'm wearing my mail and you have the knights surround the perimeter. I think I can go do my business on my own."
"I'm not leaving you unattended."
"Mer-lin. I'm not taking anyone with me...that's- that's...private!" Arthur spluttered indignantly. The knights back off, leaving Merlin to deal with the fallout. Why do I always get the bad jobs? Merlin thought.
Merlin rolls his eyes and follows his King. "I'm not taking any chances. Really, sire, I would have thought you'd have no problem with exhibitionism."
The King glares. "I can't go with you standing so near. It's making me nervous."
The warlock ignores him, leaning against the nearest tree trunk.
"Merlin. I really can't go like that and I need to..."
Merlin takes three steps away.
"Can you not...look?"
"Arthur, it's nothing I haven't seen."
"But this is private."
"If you need to go, then go," Merlin said. "Do you want to get caught out in the woods with your pants down?"
Arthur blanched. "But..."
"Close your eyes and pretend I'm not there, Arthur," Merlin growled.
It seems to take forever but Arthur is finally able to go. Merlin helpfully levitates a leaf towards him, which Arthur snatches. After he's done, he stomps away towards his tent, deliberately not looking at Merlin.
Nothing happens. It is twilight. They've pass the time that it should have happened with the warlock extremely jumpy throughout dinner. The knights could barely eat. Arthur found the whole suspenseful atmosphere off-putting and was in a foul mood. Though Merlin doesn't want anything bad to happened, he keeps expecting something to happen and its worse waiting and not knowing. Arthur insists if they can't travel then they should at least get some rest.
Merlin sleeps with an arm draped protectively over Arthur, sleeping in mail. He will not let himself be reprieved until they are safely in Camelot but he is glad that they have cheated fate. Even if for a little while. He commands himself to stay awake but the warm of Arthur's body and the exhaustion of being alert has drained his energy. He shuts his eyes and the world falls away from him.
Unfortunately, the sweet oblivion of sleep is interrupted by the pained cry in his psyche, "EMRYS! HELP!"
"Mordred!" Merlin jerks himself awake, jostling Arthur. "Constantine, get Arthur away!" The plan is put into action at once. 'Arthur' is to be bundled off in the carriage with Sir Gareth, hopefully to lead off the attacker. Arthur, must be hidden while in the tent, until Merlin can defeat the attacker. The warlock takes a sweep of magic but he cannot sense any uses in the vicinity. Something is wrong.
Merlin exist the tent to see Mordred being strangled by Urien. General Urien turns to the warlock, his eyes red. He's possessed, Merlin thought. Clearly there was no time to exorcise him or to scry for the controller.
"Release him or die!" Merlin threatens, hoping that Urien's controller will not call him on the bluff. He needs to buy time and distract Urien from Arthur but it would be wrong to kill an innocent if he is under the influence of a spell.
Urien talks in a female voice, "You can not stop me!" With a snap, Urien kills Mordred.
Merlin casts a killing spell and Urien falls, slumping over Mordred, laughing in a voice that is not his.
The warlock has no time to mourn his dead apprentice. The spot of blue light is approaching. Merlin realises his mistake belatedly. Perhaps it was not twilight but the power of the spell that lit up the area. Or perhaps this is destiny.
Lancelot is on the ground and the light is speeding towards Arthur, just like the memory. Merlin casts spells at the lance but they fail. Predictably so. Arthur runs but the lance is clearly magical, its trajectory does not suffer from gravity, nor do objects obstruct it's path.
One of his knights, Caradoc, runs at the lance. It runs through him, right through him. The knight freezes, stunned but there is no wound. His mouth stays open, frozen. Arthur is horrified, standing there.
"Run, you idiot!" Merlin screams in the midst of a jumble of spells but the lance curves, honing in on Arthur as he stands there.
It pieces through Arthur just as he saw it. But it is even worse being there now, smelling the burning. Arthur bites his lip, twitching, eyes rolling white and then the lance vanishes, leaving a gaping hole in Arthur's chest. Keeling over, the shrill screeching starts. The King's voice is so warped by the agony that it doesn't even sound like him. He's calling for Merlin. The two knights, Dagonet and Kay, have their swords raised but there is nothing to attack. They move to touch him, comfort him somehow as Arthur lay twisting on the ground.
"Don't touch him or attack the magic, it'll rebound," Merlin warns. He needs to end this now so Arthur won't have to suffer. He knows that it'll be useless to throw the killing curse but he tries it anyway and he strains to reabsorb the power back into himself. Sweat drips into the warlock's eyes as he struggled, calling on the elements to feed his magical core. Standing unsteadily, Merlin forces himself to hold back. He cannot save his love now. Depleting himself of his magical reserves would not bring Arthur back.
Arthur is crying tears of red, blood coming out from his mouth. His chain mail is burning red hot, starting to melt, searing into his skin. His features are dissolving and he can't speak but his fingers twitch in Merlin's direction. For a moment, Merlin hates himself for being relieved that Arthur is no longer able to talk. Maybe he could close his eyes and turn away. Maybe he can pretend he doesn't know the pleas that are falling from the cracked lips. Maybe he would not have to watch his world fall apart.
"I'm sorry," Merlin says, standing there with his fists clenched tightly, aching to touch Arthur. To take the pain away. He is not the desperate figure in Morgana's dream but he is not himself. From whose eyes is he seeing? Is this Morgana's memory? It this his? Reality slips from him. "I'm sorry, Arthur." The powerful warlock does not let himself cry as his lover disintegrates slowly before his eyes.
To be continued: All criticism welcome.