Chapter 61: Fate
"I still think I should have thrown you in the stocks for risking your lives like that," said Arthur, doing his best to sound disapproving.
"You're just jealous you didn't get to come." Gwaine countered him with a grin.
Merlin rolled his eyes. In front of them, in the middle of the Round Table, was the Cup of Life. When he had asked what he had missed, the answer had been quite a lot, evidently.
"How do we undo the magic that it's already done?" Isolde asked. "I don't know a lot about how magic works, but something tells me this isn't a simple matter of saying a word or two in the Old Language."
"Probably not, unfortunately," Merlin sighed. He picked up the Cup of Life. He could feel the magic in it humming in it so loudly, so clearly, he could almost feel it vibrating in his hand.
He had missed this. "It's possible to undo most spells, depending on the strength of the magic and the strength of the sorcerer trying to undo it. The tricky part is that, since every spell is different, so is the way to undo every spell."
"So you don't know how to undo it?" said Tristan.
Trust him to be blunt, Merlin thought. He shook his head. "No. Not yet. But I know someone who might, and it's high time he showed his face around here again."
Merlin stood with his arms crossed as Kilgharrah landed in the courtyard.
"Where have you been?" Merlin snapped. "I sent you to Essetir months ago."
"You could have called me at any time."
Merlin laughed harshly. "But I couldn't. I had my magic taken from me. Obviously I got it back, no thanks to you."
Kilgharrah gave him a leveling look. "Then how was I to know that you needed my help? Hmm?" He only paused for a moment before continuing. "If you must know, Rome and Amata have spread out across the kingdom, trying to find anything with magic and destroying it. I was leading them around and away from any sites of importance. The thrill of hunting down a dragon brings out something so primitive in men." the old dragon smiled at that.
"I'm glad you were having fun." Merlin said dryly. "And what about King Lot?"
"I thought it was obvious; he considers Camelot a lost cause."
Merlin had been expecting it, but the words still stung. "That's it then?" he said. "We're alone? So much for a united Albion."
"Not entirely. Lot would be willing to come to Camelot's aid, if another sizable kingdom were to as well."
"Oh is that all?'
Kilgharrah rolled his eyes. "What is the real reason you summoned me here, little one?"
"We have the Roman's Holy Grail." Merlin said. "Or, as you would know it, the Cup of Life."
Kilgharrah laughed. "Of course," he said. "There had to be a reason I didn't know what the 'Holy Grail' was."
"Yes, yes they had us all fooled." Merlin said, trying to cut to the chase. "I'm sure you noticed on your little adventure leading them around on a wild goose chase that they've made themselves immortal using the Cup. Now; how do I undo the spell? Make them all mortal again?"
"The magic of the Cup of Life is as old as the earth itself," Kilgharrah explained. "It will not be simple."
"I wasn't expecting it to be," Merlin said. "What do I have to do?"
Kilgharrah asked, "I trust you can feel the magic within the Cup? What's it like?"
Merlin remembered the feeling of the magic buzzing. Even now, with the Cup in a room deeper inside the castle, he could still feel it. "Powerful." He said. "Loud. And… complicated. It isn't one spell; it's more than that, it could possibly be hundreds of different spells, and they're all, sort of tangled together if that makes sense?"
Kilgharrah nodded. "Your magic is the same magic that binds the Cup of Life. You're the only one who could possibly undo one of its spells. Each spell that makes up its magic, each spell that it casts, still lives inside the Cup. What's left for you to do, is to find the active spell that's keeping your enemies immortal, and undo it."
"Like unraveling a piece of cloth?" Merlin said.
"Somewhat. Except it's more like picking out the right thread and keeping the rest intact."
"Right," Merlin said. "And if I get it wrong?"
Kilghrarrah gave him a leveling look. "I advise you not to."
"That's comforting." Merlin said, "And not at all cryptic. Right then, I'll get on that, and you-" he pointed to Kilgharrah. "Don't go flying off too far."
He chose the crypts.
He needed somewhere quiet where he could focus, and it's not like the company down here was very talkative.
Merlin set the Cup of Life down on one of the tombs. Some old, half-remembered king, he thought.
"Have everything you need?"
Merlin smiled at hearing Morgana's voice. "I think so," he said, turning around to face her.
Morgana smiled. "I believe in you," she said gently, walking closer until she met his outstretched arms. He pulled her in closer for a kiss.
"Thank you. For everything."
Morgana quickly kissed him again. "I'll see you in a little bit," she said. "Let me know if you need anything."
Merlin smiled. "I will," he said.
And he was alone.
He placed both of his hands on either side of the Cup, taking a deep breath. Allright, he thought, let's see what I'm working with.
He closed his eyes, listening to the humming of the spell. Once he centered himself, he noticed that it wasn't one hum; but an untold multitude of individual hums all combining into one unified chorus of miniscule, golden threads.
This was going to take a while, he thought.
XXX
Morgana made her way back up from the crypts. She desperately wanted to help Merlin unravel the spell keeping the Roman and Amatan armies alive, but she understood it was a job made simpler with one sorcerer put to the task.
She remembered once, when she was young, she had gotten a few of her necklaces tangled together. She had tried to help Gwen undo the mess, but together they somehow only made the situation worse. She figured the Cup of Life was a similar, yet more dire situation.
"Princess!" The call came from behind her. Morgana spun around to see a young soldier, red in the face, sprinting toward her. "You're needed." The young man sputtered, "Up on the wall. The enemy," he panted, "They look like they're advancing."
XXX
Bertilak took his place at the front of the line, his fists pulled into tight balls at his side. He couldn't get the words of the foul-mouthed Camelot knight from his head. Present tense. You didn't kill Merlin, he's still alive, you fucking asshole.
He's alive. He's alive.
So he hadn't killed that bastard afterall. No bother, he would rectify that soon enough, and this time, he would watch as the life left his body, for good this time. And, perhaps for good measure, he would do the same for his little bastard Princess, too.
"Are you ready, my son?" It was Father Bron, in a set of borrowed chainmail. The priest had a sword at his side. Bertilak wasn't certain the man knew how to wield it, but that didn't really matter did it?
They still possessed the greatest armor of them all.
XXX
"This is really fucking bad!" Gwaine yelled.
"You don't say!" Tristan replied.
"Shhh!" Morgana said, struggling to think. "We need to keep them away from the castle- we don't need to stop them completely, just stall for long enough for Merlin to break the spell." She looked up at Arthur, who nodded his approval.
"Knights and soldiers down below," he ordered. "Archers and sorcerers will remain on the wall." He looked at Morgana. "Get everyone you can. If they can cast a spell that can cause even the slightest delay, get them on this wall. Hold them as long as you can. If they break through we'll have no choice but to engage directly, whether the spell is broken or not."
Morgana nodded. "I'll do my best," she said. "We all will."
Arthur smiled at her. "Then I have little to worry about." he pulled her quickly into a fierce hug. Morgana gripped his chainmail shirt tightly beneath her fingers. "I'll see you on the other side of this," he whispered.
"Likewise," she replied.
XXX
Merlin pushed another thread to the side. Not that one, he thought. He was starting to get the hang of this, he thought. He was starting to be able to feel if a particular spell thread was too old or not the right frequency- most of them were of a particular one, he realized, though he had yet to decipher what end the spell achieved.
He came to another thread. Not that one either, he reasoned, too old.
He was about the move to the next, when a thundering boom sounded from overhead.
Merlin broke off the connection.
Morgana, what was that?
Nothing! Came the reply, but it certainly sounded like something to him. I can handle it. You focus on breaking the spell.
Morgana-
Hurry, Merlin!
Morgana broke the connection before Merlin could ask a follow up question, and then, another boom followed. A small trickle of dust fell from the ceiling a few feet away from where Merlin stood, torn.
Clearly, something was happening. But he also knew that, whatever it was, it couldn't be stopped until he broke the spell.
With a final glance above, Merlin refocused his magic back onto the Cup of Life.
XXX
They were getting closer.
Morgana pressed a sweat-soaked strand of loose hair back from her face. On either side of her was a line of almost thirty sorcerers, many of whom had never served on the wall the entire siege- some barely adults, others well into old age, all willing to lay down their lives for the kingdom.
And they weren't enough.
All the fireballs and lightning bolts, grasping vines and wind storms could only slow an immortal army down so much. They were getting closer; already they were halfway through the Lower Town and gaining.
"We can't hold them!" It was a young druid man who spoke. Morgana had been watching him; he could barely send a fireball further than fifty paces, something that was becoming less and less useless.
"If we give up, they'll send in the knights, and they'll be slaughtered!" Elaine shot back before Morgana could speak.
"She's right!" Morgana agreed. "We have to try!" Come on Merlin, she thought. Please hurry! "Stânhege Forbaerne!" She yelled, and a great wall of fire stretched out sixty paces long and at least ten feet wide.
The advancing army raced right on through, pausing only on the other side to stamp out their inflamed clothes before continuing their march to the castle walls.
They were dangerously close.
Morgana was about to cast another spell, anything to keep them at bay, when she felt the wall under her quiver.
She froze.
What was under her feet?
The gates.
Arthur had opened the gates.
"No," she said to herself. Then louder, "No, no, no!"
She rushed to the other end of the wall, overlooking the courtyard, there was Arthur below, Excalibur in hand.
"Arthur, stop!" she screamed. "Don't you dare!"
Her brother had the courtesy of looking up to meet her gaze briefly, flashing an almost apologetic look.
Then with a shout, "For the love of Camelot!" He sprinted toward the enemy, his trusted knights at his side.
"No." The voice at Morgana's side was Elaine, her own gaze glued to the figure at Arthur's right hand. Sir Lancelot, loyal, it would seem, to the end.
Morgana turned to the other side of the castle wall again, flinging fireball after fireball, hoping to do something, anything, to stop them before Arthur reached them. Before they got to Arthur.
Breathing heavily now, she was about to send yet another when a vice-like grip grabbed at her arm.
"What!" Morgana snapped as she spun around, half aware she must look like a mad woman. She took a step back when she saw Kara's frantic face, tears running down her cheeks. "What?" she asked again, cold dread replacing her own panic.
"It's Mordred!" Kara cried. "He left to go fight with the knights!"
XXX
The bodies of men decked in armor surrounded Mordred at all sides where he stood near the back of the column. He held tightly to his sword as the army advanced, breaking out into a run towards the open castle gates.
Ahead of him, he could see King Arthur at the head of the pack, his sword like a sliver streak of lightning in his hand. The very image of everything a knight was supposed to be, a man was supposed to be, everything that Mordred wanted to become.
They collided with the enemy.
Soon, it was all Mordred could do to keep his head above the din as he was crammed in at all sides, practically carried along with the surging tide of soldiers around him. The shouting was an almost deafening roar, making his ears ring.
Soon enough, the crowd spread out, giving Mordred enough room at last to move around. He looked all around, keeping his eyes open for the first sight of a Roman or Amatan soldier, the blood rushing in his ears like ocean waves.
There! An Amatan knight approached from the right. Mordred lifted his sword.
But no, a soldier in Camelot red swooped in instead.
Mordred watched as the two men battled, exchanging blows and contributing to the sound of metal clashing against metal.
When, all at once, the Camelot soldier thrust his sword deep into the ribs of the Amatan, where it lodged, stuck.
Unfazed by the blood pouring from his side like a river, the Amakan knight raised his sword.
Mordred sprung into action, racing forward, he stopped the blades trajectory inches from impact, the impact sending shockwaves up his arm.
Mordred grit his teeth, practicing the twisting move that Gwaine had taught him. Brace, lift up, twist, use your opponent's own strength like a lever…
The knight stumbled back, allowing the Camelot soldier to rip his sword out of the man's rib cage.
Mordred flashed a quick smile to the man, but his gaze was just behind Mordred's shoulder.
The soldier yelled; "Behind you!"
Mordred spun around to face his adversary; a Roman soldier almost twice his own size, grinning with a sadistic smile featuring several missing teeth.
Mordred swallowed hard and held up his sword in preparation of defense.
The Roman advanced, raining blow after blow upon Mordred, who could only do his best to block, even as his arms shook with the effort. He kept stepping backward, moving closer to the front line against his own volition.
He cursed himself for being such a fool! What was he thinking? He wasn't a knight and he was fighting an enemy that couldn't be killed.
Fuck it all, he thought. When their swords became locked again, Mordred spoke, "Hathian!"
He watched as the Roman's sword became red-hot. He grinned, but the smile froze on his face as he saw the Roman grimmance and only hold onto his sword tighter, the air around them sizzling and smelling nauseatingly like seared human flesh, making Mordred almost gag.
The Roman kicked at Mordred's knees, and he went down, falling onto the hard earth beneath him. Mordred moved onto his back and rolled away just in time for the Roman's sword to hit the ground where his chest had been only moments before; even still, the sword sliced into his shoulder.
Mordred cried out as a red-hot pain enveloped his shoulder and raced down his arm. As a reflex, he dropped his sword.
The Roman raised his sword again, and Mordred rolled away again, shifting up onto his knees.
Time seemed to slow. The Roman poised to strike again.
"Mordred!"
A flash of silver.
The Roman's eyes widened in disbelief for a brief moment before he toppled over right in front of Mordred, dead.
Excalibur buried in his back.
Of course, Mordred thought dimly. A sword burnished in the breath of a dragon.
Ten paces away, Arthur ran toward him, his face utterly unreadable.
He felt lightheaded, Mordred realized, looking at the wound on his shoulder. Maybe he was losing more blood than he thought.
Mordred was about to get to his feet when another Roman came into view, not as big as the last, but still every inch the fighter. As Mordred lurched forward this man grasped Excalibur in his own hands and pulled it from the body of his dead comrade in one stroke, and in the next, thrust it into the stomach of King Arthur Pendragon.
Mordred screamed.
XXX
Merlin pushed another strand of magic aside. Not this one, he thought. Above him, the ruckus was only getting worse, louder, and harder and harder to block out.
Merlin shook his head and pressed on.
There! This strand of golden magic was newer than all the others, and, as Merlin examined it more, it seemed… off. Warped, twisted and gnarled.
As if the person who had made it didn't know what they were dealing with, forcing the magic to accommodate its unknowledgeable master.
Merlin used his magic to wrap around the strand, and pulled.
The strand unraveled itself from the hum of knotted strands.
Merlin pulled harder.
The strand snapped and dissolved in a shower of golden sparks.
XXX
Morgana pushed her way through the mass of fighting, casting spell after spell, trying to push any enemy she could find far away from anyone in Camelot red.
A feeling of a warm breeze pushed around her and outward. She gasped in recognition. Magic. Powerful magic.
Merlin.
Morgana turned to the closest Roman soldier, a fierce light in her heart.
"Heofonfýr!"
Lightning shot from her upturned palm, striking the man square in the chest. He fell, and did not get back up. Dead.
Around her, a cheer went up as more and more of Camelot's fighters landed blows that defeated, rather than briefly inconvenience their opponents.
Morgana laughed, the lightness of relief flooding through her that she hadn't felt in months.
Morgana!
The relief at hearing that voice was cut short by the desperation in it.
Mordred?
Morgana looked around wildly for her ward.
There! There he was with-
Her blood went cold.
No. no, no, no. "No!"
Morgana ran to her brother's side, reaching it just as he stumbled. She hoisted him upward.
"He was stabbed with his own sword." Mordred mumbled, pale and covered in blood. Some of it was his, she was sure, just how much was unknown.
"You need to get him inside now." Mordred said, breathing heavily. "Gods this is all my fault, please Morgana quickly!"
"I will, I will," Morgana said, trying to calm her rising panic. Someone had to keep it together. Someone had to lead. "We need to get back to the gates-"
"No!" Mordred said. "You need to teleport him out, and you can't do both of us-"
"You're injured too, and you don't know the spell-"
"I'll be fine, they're starting to fall apart.."
It was true, the Roman and Amatan army, newly recognizing their own mortality was back in full-force, were panicking.
Morgana nodded. "You need to retreat. Back to the castle as fast as you can."
"I will."
Mordred held Excalibur in his hand, she noticed. "Hold onto that," she told him.
Morgana turned her attention back to Arthur. "You aren't going to like this," she told him.
"I'll live. Maybe." he said, mustering up at least a little humor, which was enough to give her some hope.
She held onto him tightly. "Bedyrne ús! Astýre ús þanonweard!"
XXX
Arthur's been hurt. I have him in his room. Hurry Merlin!
Merlin ran.
When he burst into the room, He found Arthur lying on his bed, Gwen at his side and Gaius preparing a potion at the table. Morgana stood to the side, her face as white as the bandages around Arthur's stomach.
She didn't look up as he came in, but Gwen did, her face lined with a tear marks down her cheeks.
Gaius came up to his side. "Merlin, listen to me." He spoke quietly. "Arthur was wounded with his own sword. Even your magic is likely to be of little use against this."
"I have to try." Merlin replied.
As he approached, Gwen stood up. She reached out and hugged Merlin tightly. "I know you'll do everything you can," she whispered, before she left the room.
Gaius went after her.
"This was my vision." Morgana said, her voice sounding far away. "The last piece of it." She blinked and looked around. "The battle is still happening outside, I should- someone has to lead."
Merlin grasped her hand as she went past him. "Stay safe," he said, before kissing her.
"Really, right in front of me?" Arthur said, his voice thick with pain. Nevertheless, one side of his mouth curled upward.
Morgana gave him one last look before she left out the door.
Merlin turned to Arthur.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I got stabbed with my own sword."
"Glad to see the Romans didn't hurt your sense of humor, Sire." Merlin shot back. He walked closer, examining the bandages around Arthur's middle. "Let's see about the rest of you now."
Quelling his nerves, Merlin raised one hand to hover over Arthur. "Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare."
He felt the magic move from him, but from there it only hovered, not diving into the wound, before disappearing into the air.
Merlin shook himself and tried again. "Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare."
And again. "Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare."
And again. "Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare."
And again. "Ic þe þurhhæle þin licsare."
Arthur opened his eyes. "It's no good, is it?" he said.
Merlin shook his head. He needed to think, he needed to get this right, another spell, something, anything, there had to be something he could do, right? Otherwise-
Otherwise.
No.
"How the fuck did you get stabbed with your own sword, you utter clotpole?"
Merlin began to pace around the room. Why had he created that sword in the first place, knowing what it could do? Why did he not think that it could be taken from its rightful master? Why hadn't he planned ahead for something like that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Merlin stopped.
"We have the Cup of Life, it'll be just like old times, I can-"
Arthur shook his head. "You and I both know what that does now, Merlin." The words were forced out through gritted teeth. "A life for a life. No one else is dying for me."
"Arthur-"
Arthur's voice was firm through gritted teeth. "No."
"Listen to me, you idiot!" Merlin cried. He took a deep shaking breath. There had to be a way, there just simply had to be another way. Afterall, how many times had Merlin swooped in at the eleventh hour with a miracle cure, or a spell, or something? How many times had he saved his friend's life? There had to be something he could do. Just like old times indeed. Just like old times.
Right?
He heard Kilgharrah's voice in his mind. Arthur is the Once and Future King. What did you think that means?
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. No, there had to be something else. Something else, quickly, surely?
None of us can choose our destiny Merlin. And none of us can escape it.
"Damn it!"
Arthur hardly cracked an eye as Merlin slammed his fist against the table.
He had been so close.
"What if- what if we do something else?" Merlin said in a rush, already hating the words coming out of his mouth, but gods, what else was there to do? "The Cup, it grants reincarnation, remember?"
Damn it.
Arthur cracked an eye open.
Damn it.
Merlin blinked furiously, so that the tears that wanted to come didn't spill over his cheeks; Arthur needed him to be strong right now. Someone needed to be put together, and it sure as anything shouldn't have to be the man bleeding out on the bed.
Arthur nodded.
A small part of Merlin had been hoping he would refuse, had wanted Arthur to fight more, but he acquiesced.
"It might not have to come to this." Merlin said. "We still have time, there might be something we haven't thought of, another way-"
"Merlin." Arthur spoke urgently between long but shallow breaths. "Do you have the Cup with you now?"
"Yes."
"Then we both know what we need to do." Arthur let out a half-broken, strangled huff, that in different conditions would have sounded more like the humorless laugh it was meant to be. "When I first heard the prophecy, I thought all I had to do was fix my father's mistakes for the next generation." He took a long breath, wincing as he did so. "But now I see that I've failed them, and if this spell works-"
"It will." It had to. Merlin would be sure of that.
"Then I'm in the fight for my life in a few decades from now. Maybe a century, who knows?"
"You won't be alone." Merlin said, finally giving voice to the deepest fear he had been trying to ignore for months.
Emrys translates to 'immortal' What did you think it means?
Arthur gave him a knowing look. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know you probably didn't want this to go this way."
"I would say it was an honor," Merlin said, blinking back tears, "But then again I did have to wash your socks for a good deal of the time."
Arthur smiled. "Perhaps in the future they'll figure out a way for you to do that more efficiently, and while we're being honest with each other- effectively."
"If you think I'm ever washing your socks again you've lost even more blood than I originally thought." Merlin shot back.
Arthur did laugh at that; then almost immediately winced. "Maybe you're right about that," he said, pressing a hand to the bandage around his side, which was already starting to seep through with fresh blood. He raised his eyes to Merlin's. "I think I'm feeling a little thirsty."
Merlin took a deep breath, and took the Cup of Life from the bag at his side. Praying to every god he could name, he filled the Cup with water from the basin at Arthur's bedside table. He closed his eyes. All it needs is the intention, he told himself.
Though this man may die, he thought, centering every ounce of magical energy on the cup; bring him back one day, when the world is most in need of him again. Bring him back one day, bring him back one day. Bring him back so he may save us again. Please.
Merlin opened his eyes, and he felt the Cup hum with a strange, new frequency.
He lifted the Cup of Arthur's mouth, and watched while he drank.
He didn't stop the tears that fell either.
Arthur leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Now; bring Guinevere in here. Please. And Merlin?" Arthur added, "Stay close by, I want you to be there when I…you and Morgana."
Merlin nodded. "Of course, my friend," he said.
Arthur smiled again. "Thank you," he said.
Maybe there was another way. But maybe this was the only way. And if it was, this was better than nothing. Hope, no matter how miniscule, is always preferable to utter loss.
As he opened the door, there was Gwen, along with what looked like half the court.
"He's asking for you." Merlin choked out. "I'll be back, I just have to-"
And without finishing his sentence he was off running, down the corridor, down the stars, through the hallways, until finally out the double doors into the courtyard. He looked up to the sky and yelled;
"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"
Next Chapter: For the Love of Camelot (5/6)
…Now if you don't mind I'm going to hide now.
But before I go into hiding I do want to point out that it looks like Mordred met his destiny afterall, just not in the way we expected him to. Muahaha.
Also- I was really trying not to have the Camelot characters use the word "damn" in this fic; maybe I did once in an early chapter, but going with the whole shift of the villains in part two, it didn't really fit because damn and damnation is a Christian concept and our characters are considered "pagans" and as we saw in the show, there really is only one afterlife for everyone, ergo, no concept of damnation; HOWEVER nothing else really fit the mood of "my best friend is dying and fate is catching up to us" quite like "damn". So. Sorry.
TBH it's been a while since I wrote a lengthy anecdote on how I did do research but elected to ignore it and this is likely also the last one… :(
Anyways, NOW I'm going to hide.