Oh my god I've updated after over a year? Yes, you can all come and murder me with pitchforks. Lords know I deserve it...
But I'm back. And since it's been so long, let's sum up the story thus far:
Merlin, Arthur, and the Knights go on a hunt through the forest.
Long story short, Merlin gets turned into a cat-person by the Keeper of the Forest, who is a magical old man. Aithusa is under Morgana's power, lots of things happen, blah blah blah. It should also be mentioned that Merlin made a certain kind of deal with the Keeper of the Forest, which was more or less explained at the end of the last chapter: Merlin's spirit was spread out over the forest to be anchored to the world by the trees, but his body is dead. This plan was formulated in case Merlin were to die, but they theorized it would be at the hands of Morgana, not Aithusa. And now Merlin and Aithusa are "dead", while their spirits take a little stroll through the forest.
Oh and Arthur and the knights know about Merlin's magic. Just in case anyone gets confused. And Arthur is forming an alliance with a clan of Druids, and Alator and Gilli.
I'm very sorry I kept you all for... so long... I just... I'm sorry. This story withered in my mind.
But I will finish it.
Welcome back, my faithful readers. Again, I truly am sorry. This chapter is longer than I would have liked, but it took me a year to write.
*deep breath* here we go.
Gaius eventually had to force the King to go back to his chambers under threat of a sleeping draught, where he immediately passed out on his bed, exhausted. The old physician, meanwhile, did not plan to go right to bed; he had some tests to run on his late ward's 'condition'. He did not really know what to call it, since dead people are usually… well, dead, but it seemed like the right word.
He glanced behind him one more paranoid time, and… yes, he was alone. Satisfied, Gaius hobbled over to the sheet on the table, under which lay Merlin's inanimate body. He steeled himself as he slowly raised the cloth, but could not help the small gasp that escaped.
Merlin was slightly pale, but not much more than was usual. He looked as if he was only sleeping, even though he had been proclaimed dead five days ago. He was not decaying; he was being preserved. But how? To Gaius, it really made no sense. Especially if Merlin's magic had gone, back to the earth whence it came, he presumed, then the body would have rotted a lot faster.
But Merlin was completely clean, save a few bloodstains and cleaned wounds that had long since stopped weeping.
The body just lay there, still in its entirety, going against normal logic, just as Merlin had so many times done.
It was almost as if it was waiting.
Merlin looked around. He was sitting in the middle of a field, long strands of grass threading through his fingers and between his bare toes, flattening where he sat.
He was wearing his simple blue tunic and a red neckerchief, along with a pair of trousers. Only his shoes and jacket were gone. But Merlin felt no need for them, as he sat in that field; the air was warm, and the ground was soft.
He rubbed a hand idly through his hair, and was surprised by the lack of soft, furry ears sitting atop his head. A quick wiggle of his bum confirmed what he had suspected; he had been turned back into a full human.
Of course, it was only while in this state that he could remain as such. He still had to figure out how to change the curse in his mortal body.
But enough of that; there were more pressing matters at hand. Merlin looked around.
To the left, he could see the beginnings of a forest, the trees growing thicker as they got farther away from him. The clearing he sat in was downhill from them, so he could not see much else.
He jumped to his feet in a panic when he looked to his right.
A white dragon lay curled up, asleep, with soft snores coming from its occasionally flaring nostrils. Its tail had previously rested in Merlin's lap, but he had jostled it when he jumped.
Aithusa looked just as he remembered, betraying none of the evil of a broken soul that resided in her, just beneath the surface.
Merlin did not know whether to be frightened out of his wits, or strangely relieved. In the end, he just felt… apprehensively uncertain. Was it really Aithusa? Was his beautiful, pure friend still in there?
He tried to speak. His voice seemed strangely loud in the calm expanse. "Aithusa."
The word echoed in the clearing, as if there was an invisible barrier pushing the sound back at him.
And then Aithusa stirred, one eye flickering open.
Gold. Not red.
Merlin did not have time to react to that before the white dragon emitted a loud whine and leapt onto him, knocking him over, nuzzling him fiercely with her scaly head.
She was trembling slightly, but she stilled when Merlin placed a gentle hand on her head.
Merlin gave his dragon a relieved hug. "I'm glad it's you, Aithusa…."
Aithusa didn't quite understand that. She turned her head to look imploringly at him, her eyes asking a question her mouth could not.
That was when the convulsions began.
Merlin immediately lurched away from her as she let out a raw war cry, clawed limbs jerking out in every direction. He very nearly avoided getting ripped to shreds—again.
But he had been expecting this; it would be foolish not to. Nothing was ever so easy.
When the seizing stopped, Deathbringer stood in Aithusa's place, breathing heavily, harshly, hungrily.
Merlin let out a sigh, letting a tiny flame burst in his palm. Good, he still had his magic, then.
"Well then, Deathbringer," he said softly, lowering himself to a more defensive stance, flame still alight in his hand, "I suppose I'll just have to get through you to get Aithusa back."
The dragon roared. A wave of power surged out of her maw, rippling through the forest in a great whoosh.
None of the knights said a word when news of Merlin's fate made it to them.
Arthur had not been the one to bear the news. It did not take a sorcerer to know the King was not at his best emotional state just then.
All of the knights had met the strange, joyous young man who worked for King Arthur at some point or another, and they had found it near impossible to dislike him. Though their pain would fade easily enough with a little time, they would definitely miss him, and they hoped never to forget him. They knew how loyal he had been to Arthur, and they respected him as strongly as they would a fellow knight.
Others were not so lightly affected. The knights closest to Arthur were hit hard and bluntly by the news, and for a moment found themselves incapable of any thought or action.
Merlin was dead.
It was impossible. Merlin could not be dead, he was… well, he was Merlin. Not only that, but he was the almighty Emrys, the greatest warlock in all of Albion. Nothing could kill Merlin.
At least, that was what they had believed up until then.
Gwaine was the first to move, saying nothing as he stiffened suddenly and marched off, no doubt to a tavern or something of the like. He had been closest to the young man, and he had known him even before he had known Arthur. Merlin was his best friend, and he had never felt so… hollow. Merlin had been his first friend, too—one of the few times he had truly come to trust and care for someone. And now his friend was gone.
Elyan decided the way of alcohol was wisest, and followed, albeit at a much slower, pensive pace. He had not known Merlin for as long, but he certainly liked him. It was hard to forget that light, airy, chipper voice as it quipped and snarked agilely.
Percival did not quite know what he was feeling at the moment. He had come to think of Merlin as his little brother, and his cheery presence was much appreciated during hunts and voyages. He did not know how he would survive without hearing that laugh, or see that smile, or watch the King and his manservant bicker like children… the loud reds and yellows of Camelot seemed to have dimmed. He, too, wandered off, though he knew not where he was going. Just away, he supposed.
Leon was the last to move. He had been the last to accept Merlin as a… well, as a sorcerer, and he felt more than a little guilt. Perhaps he should have treated the younger man more kindly….
But it made no difference. Merlin was gone; that was that. He had had friends die before. He knew how to deal with it.
Leon drew in a sharp breath and let it out, slowly and steadily. He turned back to the remaining knights, intent on continuing their training.
Someone had to keep the place running, after all.
And so, while the other knights stalked off to find peace in ale and solitude, Leon stayed.
He owed Merlin that much, at the very least.
Ta-dah! This chapter probably didn't teach you anything... again, I'm really, really, super sorry.
Welp. I'm done.
Please review, ask questions, etc!
(And no, this sudden update does not mean another one soon... I'm so sorry. I'm trying, I really am! Don't lose hope, but don't hold your breath, please.)