Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't be here. So just to spell it out, I'm not making any money off this.
A/N: AU from "The Fires of Idirsholas." First in the 'For the Love of Camelot' Series.
ASHES OF IDIRSHOLAS
"What have we here?" Morgause circled him slowly, her boots quiet against pale stone smudged with the passing of many feet. Early afternoon sunlight bathed Camelot's throne room, and the sorceress and her Knight moved through it as lurking shadows. Pike, darting through deep river places. Ominous and deadly and hidden by reflected light.
Fever-heat pressed on him in a chill sweat that gathered along his brow and under his arms, slicking the skin beneath his tunic. Soothing coolness pressed all along the side of his body slumped against dirty granite; Merlin panted through the pain pounding inside his skull.
He thrust out a hand, directing the power as it burst free. "Ástríce!"
The Knight before him flew aside, impacting the wall with clang of armor that did nothing to conceal the hollow thump of dead flesh against stone.
Something hard slammed against the back of Merlin's head, and darkness swallowed him whole.
Merlin tried to swallow past the fear drying out his throat; despair nested in his belly, curling him around it to ease the ache. Should've waited. The Knights had been just outside the door when he'd slipped out of the cabinet and snuck into the hallway. He hadn't made it to the dragon, and time was fast running out.
Undead and enchanted. Not mindless.
He'd remember that, if he survived.
"So Arthur is awake as well." The steps moved around him in a steady arc. Merlin blinked, the vision before his eyes wavering. "That is of no matter."
"Leave him alone," Merlin managed, rolling back far enough to meet brown eyes in a steady glare. Something nudged his back; the breath caught in his throat when he realized it was an armored foot. A blank mask stared down at him.
Not mindless, but still controlled. The effort to ignore the presence towering over him and focus on the real threat left Merlin shivering. Or maybe that's the fever.
Chainmail chimed softly over her shrug. "I have no interest in the Prince." Brown eyes sharpened, and a swift crouch brought her close to him. Cool fingers gripped his chin, and Morgause's voice was steady as she asked, "Where is Uther?"
Arthur was right. "What have you done?" Merlin jerked free of her grasp, struggling to pull his magic back from where it bubbled just beneath his skin.
A smile slashed across her face, bright and razor-sharp. "You would not understand."
"Try me."
Morgause laughed.
Merlin's lips clamped shut, and he shifted, reaching –
Tightness, against his arms and legs. He was bound at the elbow and wrist with hard twine, his arms twisted behind him; and tied again at the knee and ankle. How did I not feel –
The sickness was taking him.
Maybe that was why his magic felt so strangely close, welling up inside his ribs and expanding with each breath. Clamoring for freedom.
A smooth shift of muscle brought Morgause to her feet, unsheathing a gleaming sword as she rose. Cold metal pressed against his throat. "Tell me, and I will let you live. Where is Uther Pendragon?"
Blue eyes locked with brown. Merlin waited one beat, then another –
The doors to the throne room slid open.
No!
Arthur, slumped between two Knights of Medhir, only visible as a blond head as they dragged him in by the arms. Please, let him only be unconscious or ill. Please don't let him be –
They had the King.
And at the rear, flanked by the two remaining Knights, skittered Morgana. Green eyes flicked wildly to Merlin, and then to the sharp edge gliding beneath his jaw. "Morgause?"
No . . . Merlin's eyes squeezed closed, betrayal clutching at his throat. Because Morgana's voice was shell-shocked, and worried, and even scared – but not surprised. He tried to swallow past the danger at his neck, and felt the cool blade pressing against delicate skin. She hates Uther. But why would she do this to everyone else, all those innocent people –
"What is this?"
The sword disappeared, taking Merlin's strength with it. Distantly, he heard the familiar creak of oft-used hinges as the doors to the throne room closed, feeling magic flare as Morgause barred them in for good measure. King and Prince dropped to cold stone in a clatter of armor and limp limbs as the Knights deposited them alongside the base of Uther's throne.
"Morgana." Morgause's steps retreated across the room and Merlin blinked, squinting to see past the misery welling up in his eyes. A single gesture sent the Knights back, dark shadows guarding the door.
Magic roiled within Merlin's core as the Knights passed, fighting against his fraying control. It wants to – I want to – Can't – they'll see – He gritted his teeth, clamping down hard, and the power surged higher in response, beating against the inside of his veins. Let me loose!
At the room's center, Morgana stood alone.
"It is an enchantment." Morgause stopped before Morgana, and Merlin could see the sorceress' head tilt slightly as she surveyed the King's ward.
"They will wake." A question lingered heavily in Morgana's voice.
Morgause's steps took her around Morgana as well; her words smooth with unconcern. "Of course. No one will be harmed."
Liar. Merlin sucked in a breath, pushing down an angry spurt of magic. The effort left him gulping for air. There were fires burning and animals hitched for work and people drawing water at the wells or bathing when the spell took hold. The bodies unconscious in the streets were proof enough that Morgause's enchantment had clamped down tightly at the end, dropping those who resisted longest in their very tracks.
But Morgana's face had eased, sea-foam eyes relieved. "You swear it?"
"I do. After all, what use is a kingdom with no one to rule over?"
What?
"What?"
"Come now, Morgana. You said you were prepared to do anything to see a new world – one where Uther was no more." She turned, back to Merlin, though he could hear her full clear. "And now, with the Pendragons defenseless, that world is near at hand."
A frown crawled across Morgana's face; Merlin could see her fists clench briefly as she drew herself up. "You can't mean Arthur -"
"Nothing will change with Uther dead," Morgause countered. "Arthur will take the throne, and our people will still be persecuted!"
"You don't know that!"
"Don't I?"
Near the throne, sunlight glinted off armor. Arthur stirred.
If she sees him – Oh Gods, if she sees him – "Arthur is not his father." Merlin barely recognized the sound of his own voice, shredded from holding in magic that was roaring for release.
Morgana's whole body stiffened, green eyes wide and locked on him.
He only felt tired. Yes. I heard you.
"You know nothing." Morgause barely turned her head, almost fully disregarding him.
Not for long. Merlin pushed, somehow finding the strength to waver to his knees even as tight ropes cut into his arms. "I know for all you play at honor, invoking the Knight's Code, you have none. I know you showed Arthur his mother's shade to manipulate him into killing his father. I know you took a trust he was willing to give you, even after knowing you for a sorcerer, and twisted that trust to try to harm him."
Morgause's face was frozen in stone, her beauty eclipsed by pure menace. She stalked towards him, black cloak flaring out in a sweep of shadow.
And ignored Arthur, blearily waking where he had been dropped by the throne, blue eyes mere slits in his pallid face.
There were voices in his chambers. Unfamiliar voices. If Merlin's let someone in here – Arthur blinked, fighting against the weight on his eyes. Sensation came back slowly, enough for him to feel his arms and legs resting against something cold and unforgiving. After he gets out of the stocks, he's going to change the ticking in my mattress. I've slept on softer stone.
Irritation prodded blue eyes open despite the vague feeling of illness plaguing his body. What the hell – Father! Adrenaline shoved him into complete wakefulness.
They were in the throne room. Arthur froze as he caught sight of a Knight of Medhir not an arm's length away, facing the center of the room. Legend has it there were seven Knights of Medhir. Two at the doors. Two more halfway; two at guard on Father and me. Where's – Merlin!
The seventh Knight stood guard on his kneeling manservant, though the younger man was tied tightly enough to make the Knight's presence more showy than necessary. Cold steel was leveled at Merlin's chest; Morgause loomed over him, black cloak casting Merlin into an oasis of shadow against the early afternoon light. Her voice, when she spoke, was nearly as dark. "I spared his life."
"As he spared yours!"
Merlin, shut up!
Blue eyes darted across the room, and Arthur found Morgana wrapped in emerald stillness fifteen paces from the throne. What's wrong with her? She's just – standing there. When Morgana was afraid or threatened, she got angry. I've never seen her cringe in my life.
Until today. Maybe Gaius' potion isn't working as well as we thought –
A gasp arrowed Arthur's attention back to the sorceress. Merlin was a bundle of brown and blue and red topped with raven-black, slumped against armored knees. Morgause flicked her blade in an easy spin, wicking crimson droplets to pale stone as she turned upon one heel.
For a long moment, his manservant did not move.
I'll kill her.
A violent heave thrust Merlin from the Knight's feet, and the younger man rolled fully over, curling away from Morgause's undead servant with a thin snarl. Relief huffed out of Arthur in a near-laugh. Even trussed like game ready for the spit, he doesn't give up. Intractable fool. "You swore that you would harm no one." Morgana was looking at Merlin, even as he – glared? – back at her, and Morgause was looking at Morgana.
I will not get a better chance.
Merlin was of no help, but Morgause knew that, and would ignore him. If Morgana can guard Father for as long as it takes to kill Morgause . . . The sorceress was a strong fighter, but Arthur had disarmed her once, when he had so much less to fight for.
All I need now is –
A roll brought him to his feet, slower than he'd anticipated, but quick enough to rip the blade from one ancient gauntlet. Black flew across his vision; Arthur stepped back from the cloak that had been whipped at his face, and planted himself above his father's prone body. "Morgana!"
A breeze swept viciously past one shoulder; Arthur dodged, blade anticipating even as the Knight at his back struck.
She hadn't moved.
A sea of black shifted with the tide, surrounding him; Arthur felt the chilling brush of shadow pulling at him even through the bright warmth of the afternoon sun. Braced, he raised the stolen blade high even as the Knights of Medhir lifted theirs. Come on, then.
But for all he was penned in, blocked on one side by the heavy weight of the throne and tied to the place his Father lay defenseless, they did not advance.
Morgause did, a storm wrapped in chainmail and flaring golden eyes. Magic. Morgana stood where the sorceress had left her as if frozen, arms wrapped tight around herself. Arthur caught a glimpse of wild green eyes in the moment before Morgause struck.
Clang!
Metal kissed in a rush of muscle and noise, a lullaby of destruction. Arthur gloried in the song, and Morgause broke it with words. "Did you not wonder how the whole of Camelot came to be enchanted when I was nowhere near?"
Block, strike, parry – Sweat gathered thickly at his temples, and Arthur battled the churning in his gut even as chills swept over his skin. Two at the door, one on Merlin. Of these four closest, only three are armed –
And the woman who was his sister, in spirit if not blood, was exposed and unprotected in the middle of the room. Forgotten. If I can get her a blade – "Morgana!" The scream tore from his throat even as Arthur's blade whipped up to block Morgause's downward blow.
Morgause's laugh slithered to his ears, low and self-satisfied. "You have one ally in this room, Arthur Pendragon. And it is not she."
He didn't waste his breath calling her a liar; the Knights had retreated to form a loose circle, but not far enough for him to shift his stance. If she's commanding them, the enchantment will end with her death.
And she was not a perfect swordswoman, by any means. I should have killed her at first opportunity.
A brown-and-black blur flickered at the far edge of his vision. Merlin! How did he – Arthur blocked another strike and returned it with a volley of his own. The circle of Knights hemming him in thinned; one cloaked figure split off to follow Arthur's manservant. In a lithe twist Merlin dodged the grasp of the Knight tasked to guard him, slipping between fat columns.
"The spell is powerful. Even now it is working on you, slowing you, making you weak."
Sharp-edged steel sliced across his thigh just where his mail ended; Arthur hissed, ignoring the stinging line, and turned his block into a forward lunge. Shallow cut, only caught the tip of her blade.
"Morgana came to me, last night. She said she would do anything to help me create a new world." Morgause punctuated her lie with a practiced sweep of the blade that would have taken off a weaker swordsman's head. "One free of Pendragon tyranny."
A yelp broke through the rush of blood in his ears. Damn it, Merlin! Blue eyes never left the sorceress' sword. And she was too caught up in her words, sparing too much thought for speech, rather than the fight. It's her weakness. Use it. "And why should I believe you?"
Morgause smirked.
Got you. Arthur let her next strike push him back onto his heels, making a show of marshalling his strength. He barely made out her next words over the flush of concentration needed to exaggerate an unbalanced wobble without letting the magical illness take control of his limbs.
"Ask yourself, Arthur Pendragon, why she alone was spared."
There!
Arthur snaked his blade into the minute opening, and a flick of his wrist spun Morgause's sword out of her hand.
He never got the chance to strike.
A wave of black malevolence broke over him as the Knights of Medhir rushed forward, and fight as he would, his blows elicited no reaction. Undead hands were as bands of iron across his body, dragging him from Father's side; bands that only tightened when his exhaustion crested, leaving him wrung out and disarmed.
The silence in the throne room was broken only by the noises Merlin made as he too was pinned.
Morgause hefted her weapon, strides unhesitant as she crossed to Morgana. Dread clutched Arthur's heart with icy fingers. She wouldn't dare - The flat resting across her palms, she offered the blade to the King's ward.
Wh - no. Arthur stared at Morgana, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. Doubt crept in thin tendrils across his mind. It wasn't true. It wasn't.
Morgana glanced at Morgause, cast an uneasy glance at Father, and looked away.
"Very well." Steel in hand, Morgause started towards the King.
Fear and fury mingled in a potent mix, jolting his heart with renewed strength. Arthur struggled, twisting and pulling against the inexorable grip of the Knights. He tried to change directions suddenly, throwing his body against joins of bone and flow of tendons – but the Knights of Medhir were not constrained by the rules that bound mortal flesh.
At the base of one column, Merlin writhed like a hooked worm, somehow kicking out despite the undead hands pressing him to cold stone. A third Knight shifted to where his two fellows struggled to restrain the younger man; twinned gauntlets came down, hard, and his manservant let out a hoarse shout.
Poised above Father, so close the smell of her victory stung in his nose, the sorceress only raised her blade.
A shudder ran through the floor, vibrating up the walls and rumbling deep in Arthur's bones. What –
All at once, the grip on his body slackened.
No time. Go!
Wrenching free, Arthur scrabbled for the sword that lay discarded on the ground. Leather wrapping, worn and cold, met eager fingers. He lunged, even as Morgause's sword fell.
Arthur yanked his blade free of her ribs, scrambling over Morgause's body to get to the King. Around the room, the Knights of Medhir collapsed.
"No!" Morgana tumbled to her knees in a swirl of emerald and black curls, reaching for the downed swordswoman.
"You!" Arthur could not contain his roar, even as he pulled Father from filthy stone and into his arms. She flinched away from his rage, green eyes wide and stunned. "You brought this upon us!" But he could spare no time for Morgana now. The King was wounded.
Red stained his fingers as he tore through Father's black shirt, pushing the heavy chain he wore to one side. Mother gave him that, and now it's got blood – Blue eyes lit upon the wound, and the breath stopped in his throat.
No. Please, Father, please!
Guards bashed their way through the doors, but the noise of armor and shouting was dim, and very far-off. The spell is gone. They've recovered. Father should –
But Uther did not wake.
Back braced against the throne's deep mahogany, his King in his arms, Arthur blinked upwards as a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder. Blue eyes met his. Merlin. Realization hit him with all the force of a lance. "Merlin, get Gaius! You must hurry -"
There was blood on Father's shirt.
"You must -" His face was wet, and he had to gulp past a clog in his throat. "You must run -"
But his manservant crouched instead, dissolving into a blur of brown and blue and red as heat filled Arthur's eyes. The other man was warm and somehow present at his side, even as he could feel Father's warmth leeching out onto his hands. There's so much blood. Why does no one –
"Oh, Arthur. I'm so sorry."
And Arthur wept.
Fin.