HUH, only the epilogueleft, I can't believe it. LOL, enjoy the chapter. Don't forget to vote on the poll, it will be of importance leater on, maybe, if I get around to typing it up. LOL.
"Where is he? Where is my son?" Uther demanded, crashing into the room, Ygraine and Morgana just behind him. Arthur lay on the table, stripped of his armor, pale in the low light of the room. He was breathing, but only just, his chest rising shallowly with each inhale, skin shinny with feverish sweat.
"What has happened?" Ygraine asked, tears flowing as she stared at her son.
"He was bitten by the questing beast, my lady. To be bitten means death and no amount of spells or potions can heal those bitten." Gaius answered in a resigned voice, shoulders drooping as he wiped more sweat from his brow.
"Where is Merlin?" Morgana asked, looking for the pale Druid and his body guard.
The look on Gaius's face spoke volumes of the Druid's actions. "He refuses to give up, my lady. He has secluded himself in the library, looking for a solution."
"Guards!" The men outside the door came in, bowing to their king. "Help me carry my son to his rooms. If this is…fatal, then I want him to be somewhere comfortable." They didn't even blink at the king's pause, just bowed again and stepped forward, helping their king to lift the felled prince and to carry him from the room.
"Gaius, do you think he will find a solution?" Morgana asked, looking after her departed step family.
"I hope so. I really do."
"Merlin, you must sleep." Lancelot spoke softly, trying to keep from startling the sleep deprived Druid. Merlin looked up and even his own hardened heart could not help but go out to the be grieved man. His eyes were bloodshot from holding back tears and sleep. Shadows just grew darker under his eyes as his skin took on a waxy complexion. His hands shook slightly, making the parchment in his hands flutter gently.
"I…I can't. I need to look. This is all my fault. If I had only been faster, this wouldn't have happened. I need to fix this, NOW!" Merlin shouted the last part, shoving the parchment aside to pull a scroll closer, ignoring the worried looks from Lancelot and Mordred.
He turned to the younger Druid. "Go to bed. I will watch over his tonight." The boy turned worried blue eyes up to him, but nodded, leaving as silently as he had come. Sighing, Lancelot lowered himself to the cold stone floor, resting his back against it as he listened to Merlin's mumbles and the sound of rustling parchment.
He knew he had found the answer the moment he laid his hands on the scroll, his magic giving a tingle as it recognized the magic in the word on the parchment. Glancing at Lancelot, he saw the Druid slept, back supported by the wall he leaned against, head lolling to the side, he opened it.
It was simple, really, a story of how a mother, grieving for her lost son, had sought out the priests of the Old Religion, asking for their help to bring him back. They had agreed, but warned her there was a price; a life for a life. She had readily agreed, giving up her own life so that her son may live. Seeing her serenity, the priest filled the Cup of Life with water and gave it to her, telling her to give her son the water and he would awaken, whole and alive. The story ended with the son awakening the next day alive and well, to find his mother sprawled over him, dead with a peaceful smile on her face.
There wasn't much known about the Old Religion. His people used to follow its designs, but soon branched off in their worship of Avalon and its power of resurrection. There were Druids though, that still practiced, who still dwelled in its most holy of places.
He had pulled down a map earlier, recalling parts of stories from the last time the questing beast had appeared, tracking its path and origin across both human and Druid lands. Now he read back over the story, reading closely about where the woman had gone. He didn't know where many of the holy places of the Old Religion resided, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out.
It spoke about the Isle of the Blessed, but he needed to figure out how to get there. He skimmed it again and found what he was looking for. The script was tiny and faded but spoke clearly: 'Beyond the White Mountains, through the Valley of the Fallen Kings, to the north of the Great Seas of Meredor, is a lake. In its center lies the Isle of the Blessed, the center of all the Old Religion. Here lives the Priests and Priestesses of the Old Religion. Be forewarned, for anything asked of these great sorcerers comes with a price.'
Looking at the map, he soon found his starting point. The White Mountains were the natural border between Avlin's forests and the kingdom of Mercia, known for their whiteness all year round from unmelted snow. It was easy from then on to find the path. A day's ride at most, if he pushed his horse. The lake on the map was small and the artist had drawn the isle in question, but had left it unnamed.
Satisfied with this knowledge, he looked up from the scroll. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, forewarning to a bright shinny day, the opposite of what the castle was feeling at the moment. He had no time to spare, and although he knew Lancelot would never forgive him for this, it mattered not. The spell was simple, laying sleep over the still slumbering Druid. He would not waken for some hours, enough time to get away and towards his goal.
He didn't need the map, the image burned into his eyelids. He did snuff out the candles, to keep the books and the slumbering Druid from catching fire should the parchment on the low table catch. Looking back only once, he left at a fast walk, the castle stirring, only the servants up and about as they readied for the coming day.
None noticed his path, heading for Arthur's rooms. It was blessedly empty, Gaius asleep in his rooms while Gwen left for a moment to fetch some more water. No one saw him enter, the door spelled to keep people out until he was done. Arthur lay on the bed, sleep fretful as he fought death itself. "Shh, Arthur. Sleep, you must keep up your strength." The blonde quieted under his touch, turning unconsciously toward him.
"I'm sorry. This is all my fault. If I had only been quicker, this would not have happened. But I will fix it. There is a way to save you. Just hold on, Arthur. Hold on until I get back, please." He leaned down, kissing him on his fevered forehead and stepped back. The prince was quiet, resting more peacefully. Nodding, he left, none saw him leaving the prince's room.
Hooves pounded on the dirt path as he neared the lake. A day of nearly nonstop riding, only breaking when his horse needed it, had brought him here. He could feel the magic welling up, huge and fathomless, just across the stretch of water. He could understand the appeal of the Old Religion, could feel the seductive power trying to draw him in, but that kind of power came at a price, and he wasn't sure he was willing to pay the price.
His last view of Arthur, weak and defenseless, fevered and close to death on his bed flashed through his mind and the doubt seeped away, leaving cold, determined resolve. If it was for Arthur, he was willing to do anything. He pulled his borrowed horse up, gazing across the waters of the lake to see the isle shrouded in dense fog.
The small jetty creaked ominously under his weight, but it held, allowing him to climb into the boat tied up next to it. A tattered piece of cloth hung at its back, an iron bell at is front cried mournfully with each peal, echoing across the still waters.
It only took a few minutes for the boat to cross the water, guided by his magic. As he drew closer, he could feel the magic get stronger. A moat surrounded the isle, carved stone arches crossing and recrossing over the water, guiding him to the entrance of the holy place.
The boat slowed to a halt as a gap in the stone wall appeared, black with shadows, stone steps leading up from the water's edge. He wasted no time, climbing out, holding the stone wall for balance as the wooden craft rocked unsteadily at his movements as he climbed out, and letting the shadows of the stone stairway closed around him.
It was bare, much of the ancient stone structure in ruins after so long of inattention. Fog drifted lazily between obelisks, green grass turned grey by its presence, muted by the stone. There was no one around as he drew near a raised alter, heart beating rapidly as magic weighed heavily on his shoulders.
He turned, looking for any sign of the priests of old. "H-hello.' He couldn't keep the hitch from his voice.
"Hello, Merlin." A low female voice said softly behind him. He spun, eyes wide in startlement. She was tall, almost as tall as him, skin pale, with dark locks hanging loose and slightly wild. Her eyes were an electric blue, shining with hints of silver. Wide red lips pulled up into a cruel smile, turning his blood cold. "You…"
"So you recognize me? Good, that will save us some time."
"You were the one behind all of the things that have happened to us. Why should I trust you? You've tried to kill Arthur before, how do I know you are not behind this?"
"I did not know of your importance at the time I poisoned you. Besides, Arthur is not destined to die at my hand. Now it appears I will be his savior." He didn't know what she spoke of, but it seemed to ring true in this place of magic, as if it would not allow her to lie about fate and destiny.
"Who are you?" He demanded, clenching his hands as the Druid just continued to smile at him.
"I am Nimueh, High Priestess of the Old Religion. Wielder of life and death. I know why you have come, Merlin." There was a flash and she held up a golden cup.
"Can you do it? Can you save him?" he demanded harshly.
"I do not have the power to mirror life. In order to give life, a life must be taken. There is always a price."
"I know the price. Will you do it?"
"I will, if the price is met."
Merlin nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I willingly give my life for Arthur's."
Her smile seemed to grow at his declaration. "How brave you are, Merlin. If only it were that simple."
"What do you mean?"
"Once you enter into this bargain, it cannot be undone. If you willingly give your life for his, you will not be reborn…ever."
"Whatever I have to do I will do. Arthur's life is worth a hundred of mine."
She nodded, holding up the cup. "The Cup of Life, blessed by centuries of powerful sorcerers so that it contains the very secret of life itself. If Arthur drinks water from the cup, he will live." He took a step forward as she held the cup out, taking it from her.
Her head jerked up, voice crying out in the tongue of magic and the sky let out a rumble. Clouds converged, darkening the sky and releasing a torrent of rain onto them soaking him to the bone and filling the cup to the brim.
She took the cup back as the rain dissipated, pouring the blessed water into a flask. "A bargain is struck." Her hand shot out as he took it, gripping his wrist in an iron grip. "I hope it pleases you." She finished coyly, a smirk on her lips. Wrenching his arm from her hold, he left, not looking back as he went back to the boat.
The horse's shoes sent up sparks as he clattered into the courtyard. Lancelot was already there, glaring at him, face a thundercloud of anger as he waited for Merlin to dismount. "What have you done?" He demanded harshly, fingers digging into Merlin's shoulder, shaking him slightly.
"Saving Arthur." He wrenched his shoulder free and set off at a trot, racing for Arthur's rooms.
"Tell me what you have done, Merlin. What deal have you struck?" He kept easy pace with the pale Druid.
Merlin didn't answer, just kept on going, upstairs and down halls until he reached Arthur's rooms, flinging the wooden door open and barging in, startling Gwen who was sitting by his side, Gaius fixing some sort of potion nearby.
"Merlin…"
He ignored the physician's worry, rushing over to Arthur's side, climbing onto the bed. He lifted him up, sliding behind him to rest the prince's head on his lap. Pulling out the flask, he opened it, easing his lips apart. "Come on Arthur, drink up. This will save you." He said softly, pouring a little bit into his mouth.
For a moment, there was nothing and then he swallowed, throat working to force the liquid down. Merlin let out a sigh, pouring more, kept going until there was nothing left in the flask. He chucked it onto the bed, waiting, breath baited as he waited for Arthur to open his eyes.
It seemed to take hours, but was only minutes before slowly, the prince stirred. "Merlin…"
His voice was rusty from disuse. "I'm here Arthur. I'm here." He said, bending down awkwardly to hug the man tight, shoulders shaking. The others edged out quietly, giving the two some privacy.
Lancelot was waiting for him the moment he reemerged from the prince's rooms. "What the hell have you done, Merlin?" He demanded, holding up the flask.
Glaring at him, he shushed him, dragging him down the hall to an empty room. "Answer me." He yelled the moment the door was shut.
"You tell me." He shot back.
"This…this flask is from the Old Religion. You struck a deal, offering someone else life for Arthur's. Who's life did you give so willingly to save him?" He was pacing now, waiting for an answer.
Merlin's word stopped him in his tracks. "Mine."
Chaos had broken out as news of the prince's recovery spread through the castle. Merlin, after his yelling match with Lancelot, kept to himself, secluding himself in his rooms as the day wore on to night. He knew that the moment the sun set, his life was forfeit and no matter how much it pained him to keep away from Arthur, he thought it best to remain here until after.
Arthur would most likely never forgive him, but that was a price he was willing to pay so that the prince would live. So he stayed in his room, ignoring the occasional tapping, pretending he was asleep until eventually he did sleep, eyes heavy after three days of little to no sleep at all.
He didn't even stir as his door opened in the night, Arthur creeping in, using the wall as support. He barely noticed the bed dipping, or the prince sliding in next to him, pulling him close.
He'd forgotten to cover the windows in his room and as the sun rose, the light got in, shining in his eyes, making him groan and turn over, burying his face into Arthur's chest to block out the light. It took a second for it to sink in and then it hit him. He sat bolt upright, heart in his throat. He was alive. Arthur just groaned, turning over closer towards him, arms snaking around his waist to pull him closer.
They both jumped as someone started banging loudly on the door, Arthur sitting up with a glare. "Your majesty, Ambassador, come quick. Something has happened to the queen." Someone yelled through the door.
The three sat around Ygraine, who lay in bed, all her visible skin covered in boils and sores, strength already failing. Rage boiled in his chest in a tight ball, ready to explode. He slipped out, leaving the three to watch over her, Gaius trying his hardest to cure her.
He ignored Lancelot, walking back to his rooms to pack. "Merlin, what do you think you are doing?" He asked, closing the door behind him.
"She cannot do this. I gave my life for Arthur's, not Ygraine's. She thinks she can play games with me. I am done play games. I will show her that doing this was a mistake she will forever forget."
A hand landed on his shoulder and he spun, ready to strike Lancelot should he try and stop him. He stopped at the look on his face. "I'm coming this time."
"Fine, do what you like, just stay out of my way."
Their horses were ready by the time they came down, waiting in the courtyard for them. Mounting, they raced off. 'Be careful.' Neither were surprised to hear Mordred's mental voice calling after them.
"Back again so soon, Merlin." She asked softly, blood red lips pulled up in a smirk.
"What have you done?" He demanded, stalking forward, Lancelot just behind him.
"I have fulfilled the bargain. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"I bid my life for Arthur's, not Ygraine's. You had no right to take hers."
"The Old Religion does not care who lives and who dies. Only that the balance of the world is restored. To save a life, a life must be taken, you knew this." She argued.
"It is not the Old Religion that has done this, it is you." He raged, feeling his magic well up inside of him.
"Come now, we're too valuable to each other to be enemies."
"I share nothing with you!"
"With my help, I could ensure that your treaty survives."
"I will make sure that it survives, that Druid and human live together and you will never see that day." His anger welled up and over, his magic lashing out in a blinding flash of golden light.
Nimueh just smirked, holding her hand up and blocking it with ease. "Your childish tricks are useless against me, Merlin. I am a priestess of the Old Religion." Her hand was moving in circles, fire coming to life in its path. She struck out, the ball of fire coming at him. He dodged and it demolished the stone wall behind him, leaving a gaping hole in the ruins.
"You, too, are a creature of the Old Religion. You should join me." She coaxed, holding up more fire.
"You think I would join forces with such a selfish and cruel magic. Never!" He could see Lancelot was moving up behind her.
"So be it." She attacked again, and this time he held his ground, his magic shielding him from the worst of the spell even as it flung him across the ground to land in a heap of limbs. His chest hurt, his clothing singed.
"Pity, together we could have ruled the world." She said looking down at him. She turned to look at Lancelot. "You think you, a magicless Druid, can stop me."
"I must try." He charged her. She drew a sword from the air, easily parrying his blow. She moved into attack as he unbalanced and the Druid was forced to defend himself.
As the two fought, Merlin struggled to rise. He could feel his magic inside him, the feeling he had felt when he called upon his deepest reserves. Something seemed to click inside him and the words sprang to his lips, words he had only read once before. Standing up, he looked to the sky, the words rolling like thunder off his tongue. Lightening flashed in the sky, clouds gathering like last time. She had no time to act as Lancelot shoved her away and the lightning struck. They both ducked as she exploded, the spell destroying her.
"How's Ygraine?" Merlin asked Arthur as the prince can into his room. None of them had said a word as Lancelot and Merlin had come back, covered in smoke and soaked with the rain that had followed them most of the ride back to Camelot. They hadn't stopped to take shelter, instead, they kept going, Merlin keeping a shield up to block most of the rain. He was too drained to do much else and had fallen asleep the moment he had gotten to his room.
"She'll live. Merlin, I want to thank you, for whatever it was you did. You saved me and my mother."
"No, you would have done the same for me." He shook his head, brushing of the praise.
"Still, I don't know what I would do without you."
"Go on with life…that or fall on your sword by accident, not sure which yet." He replied with a smirk.
"Cheeky. Will you ever change?" He retorted, sitting down on the bed next to him.
"No, you'd get bored if I did." He smirked, but said nothing more, just leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips with a laugh, and pulling the Druid down next to him.