Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
"Welcome to Nemeth, King Lot," greeted King Rodor as the foreign King, clad in the finest armor and sword strapped to his belt, dismounted from his horse. Behind astride their own horses sat the finest knights of Essetir, each one garbed in the colors of the royal households along with chainmail and weapons. They were only a small portion of the men the King had brought with him; the rest had gone to set camp in the fields, a distance away from where the druids stayed. They had been wary of the druids' presence but otherwise paid them no mind. It was with a stroke of good luck that the dragons had recently left their own roost among the druidic camps to go hunting.
King Lot was a broad shouldered, rough looking man. He was tall in stature and had dark, brown eyes that shone with more intelligence than the average man. His eyes also held a steel edge, one that promised retaliation to any who dared crossed him; with his reputation, none could deny that the King was capable of such vengeance. His auburn hair was kept cropped short while a neat, trimmed beard that framed his mouth. Behind him, a meek servant garbed in grubby clothing marred by the effects of travel stood, tending to the King's horse while Lot returned the greeting with one of his own.
"It is good to be here, though the same cannot be said for current circumstances," responded Lot, giving a quick glance to Arthur who stood off to the side, attempting not to fidget as nervousness consumed him. They had finally received support from another kingdom, to Arthur's relief, and, unlike Nemeth, one that led a strong army. Though not nearly as strong as the time before the previous King, Cenred used his men for an immortal army; the added soldiers had given them new hope for victory. Those men would serve to nearly double the army Arthur had worked to build in the past months; an army that though had grown in strength was still a far cry from being able to take on Morgana.
The city seemed to get more and more crowded, especially as the day of the attack grew closer and closer. They had left soon after their meeting with dragons, giving the two a promise that once they had a detailed plan set out, the beasts would be informed on their roles. Though they agreed upon the basics of a two-front attack that Leon had suggested, the group knew they must wait until they had the opinions of Rodor and Lot to create a more concrete plan.
Rodor agreed to the addition of dragons, but Arthur worried over the thoughts and opinions of King Lot. Arthur had not interacted with the newly appointed monarch for Camelot had kept her distance from leaders of Essetir after Cenred previous invasions. It was not uncommon for Cenred to look towards magical means to strengthen his position in Albion; however, that did not tell Arthur much on Lot's own stance on sorcery. From what Arthur gathered about neighboring kingdoms, most adopted similar anti-magic campaigns since Uther started the Purge. Camelot was largely influential, due mostly to its position in the hierarchy of kingdoms. If there was a kingdom that could be deemed strong, it was definitely Camelot.
As they waited, they planned. The dragons settled among the druids who did not fear their presence, but that did not prevent the first day of panic that settled among the populace. It took well-place words and charisma for Rodor to placate the people. The people remained cautious but otherwise accepted the fearsome creatures. By the time Lot arrived, three days later, and after much discussion, they had all agreed upon a plan of action. Now they only needed the foreign King's approval; Arthur only hoped the man was open-minded to sorcery.
With the army of Essetir stationed outside the city, the area felt crowded. The fields to the south held garrisons of men, who had begun to set up tents, forming a tight-knit camp to accommodate the men on such a small plot of land. While to the west were where the druids settled down, keeping themselves separate from the general populace so as to not panic those who feared magic. Within the city, the walls sheltered not only the people of Nemeth but also the refugees of Camelot and thus placed a strain on the resources. With this in mind, Arthur knew the city and surrounding area could only support the influx of people for at most a week, and that was being optimistic; they would have to move out soon.
All their plans and chances laid solely on King Lot's decision; they cannot afford to lose his support nor those of the magical persuasion. If Lot decided he could not accept sorcery into his ranks, they would have to make do without the King of Essetir help. Arthur found himself, with some guilt, wishing his father had not pursued such an anti-magic campaign. The more he saw of magic, the more Arthur lost his grip on the ideals his father had taught him since birth.
Every corner he turned, every sorcerer he met, pointed to him how wrong the laws on magic were. The peaceful druids were hunted down while the dragons were slaughtered to near extinction along with the last of them kept chained for years. Families were torn and innocents killed. Arthur could not stop his growing horror as he thought of the true consequences the Purge had brought, never mind the consequences they were paying with Morgana's recent invasion.
As when Arthur thought of magic, his mind turned to Merlin. The servant turned sorcerer turned most powerful warlock who struggled to survive in his service to Camelot. Arthur thought of the day the dragons appeared outside the city and the distant view of Gaius comforting Hunith when the woman sought information on her son. Even Gaius' physician mask seemed to crumble more every time Arthur saw him. During the days, the knights kept them busy planning and consulting, each focused on the issue at hand. Arthur could not even find the time to question either Gwaine or Percival on the events of Camelot, of Ealdor, or on Merlin during these hectic days, though Arthur itched to do so. It was through silent acceptance that Camelot came first and foremost; they had to be ready for the coming battle, else they led their people to a slaughter.
Arthur found himself in the council room with King Rodor and King Lot, still consumed in his own thoughts before he heard King Lot.
"King Arthur," addressed Lot, his eyes measuring the younger man, "I must apologize for not extending aid previously. I di not want to commit my people into a losing battle."
Arthur shook his head, "I do not blame you. I myself would have been hesitant to risk my own people."
Lot laughed, "Yes, yes, though that does not matter seeing as the witch decided to attack first. I cannot fathom why Morgana would target such a small village, but I cannot stand aside and allow such injustices to my people. Nor can I allow the best opportunity to rid her from Albion to fail."
King Arthur nodded, "We already have a plan of attack."
"I wish to hear it then."
Arthur exchanged a glance to Rodor before taking a deep breath and continued, "We plan to attack the city from the east at sunrise, use the light to blind them and give use an advantage while also prepare under the cover of darkness. My knights would lead the attack and handle Morgana's soldiers. We have requested…" Arthur paused, still hesitant, "druids' assistance against the sorcerers and creatures known as chimeras."
"Druids?" Lot questioned his tone neutral.
"Yes," Arthur said, "I have recognized we will be unable to handle Morgana without their aid. We also accepted an offer from two dragons. With them, they can reduce he casualties against the chimeras."
"Dragons," Lot said, his eyes widening in shock.
It was a moment in nervous silence for Arthur, unsure on the thoughts of his fellow King. Fear once again tried to consume him as he worried that the King would reject their plan, forcing them to pick between two crucial allies for the upcoming battle. It was at Lot's booming laugh that Arthur was torn from his frantic thoughts.
"Well," Lot gasped out, mirth still on his face, "isn't that a surprise, the son of the notorious Uther Pendragon is relying on sorcery to save Camelot!"
"You do not oppose of it?" Arthur asked, keeping the relief form his tone.
"I have no opinion on sorcery. Unless it directly involves me, I do not care for its existence and if it is what it takes to take down of Morgana, who am I to say no to it?"
Arthur, amazed on another King who did not have strong support of anti-magic laws, continued, "I am glad to hear that for our plan has another part. Unfortunately, the chimeras can only be destroyed by an enchantment targeted at an anchor within the citadel of Camelot. The only one strong enough to do so is held prisoner within Camelot, therefore I'm personally leading a small group from the west during the attack and sneaking into the citadel through an entrance that leads through the burial vaults. There we will destroy the anchor. With the anchor destroyed, the chimeras will be weakened and easy to kill."
Lot stroked his beard with his thumb and fore finger in thought, musing over what he had just heard before he spoke up, "Are you sure that these… chimeras… can be defeated, that this sorcerer will be able to handle them after being imprisoned?"
"The druids know of a draught that will allow another sorcerer to help direct the enchantment and break the anchor. Once we free the sorcerer, we are confident the anchor will not be an issue, and in extension the chimeras."
"How, if I may inquire, did you get the assistance of not just one but two dragons? Last I've heard the last dragon was killed by you when it escaped and attack your kingdom."
"The existence of the second dragon remains unknown to me but the other was the same one who attacked. It appears several were fooled, I included, of the dragon's death, though his help makes me less inclined to punish the one responsible."
"And of the chances they turn against us?" Lot asked his piercing, brown eyes on Arthur searched for lies.
"Slim, they wish to aid a friend trapped in Camelot, the one who helped them."
"And the attack, how will we go about it?"
"Well as I said before the attack will occur from the east at sunrise. We will divide our men into three separate groups, each station to attack from the northeast, east, and southeast directions, with druids evenly disperse amongst them. The druids will focus their enchantments on the enemy sorcerers while being responsible in healing the injured. They have also agreed to protect our men from the other sorcerers as well as the chimeras with the dragons support."
"Is there any way, aside from destroying the anchor, to kill the chimeras? I do not want to lead my men to hold off an enemy they can't defeat for an extended amount of time."
"These creatures are not unbeatable but nor are they easy to kill. The combination of druids and dragons, as I said, will focus on the chimeras, along with the sorcerers, to divert the bulk of magical attacks from the main army."
"Fair enough," the King nodded. "My soldiers are ready for war. Now I must ask, how may this help my own kingdom?"
"Aside from ridding the land of the witch?" King Rodor asked, raising his eyebrows.
"She attacked a small farming village, which is nothing compared to the rest of my kingdom," Lot replied, matching Rodor's incredulous look with an unyielding one. "I decided to help as to not waste an opportunity in stopping Morgana, especially when not much can. Even so, it was only one small village; there can be many other reasons for her attack and. I highly doubt that it was one to take over the kingdom."
"Our kingdoms have never been on friendly terms," Arthur replied. "Cenred had often attempted to usurp the throne of Camelot under the command of Morgause. Let us take the opportunity now to bring peace between our lands, our people. Once Morgana is gone we can discuss and draw up an official peace treaty to unify our kingdoms in an alliance. Perhaps new trade agreements are in order?"
Lot mulled over the offer, balancing the pros and cons between participating in the battle and accepting an alliance. Arthur watched his fellow King decide; he kept his face composed and waited in respect but felt almost sick with apprehension as he waited for Lot's final decision. This moment could decide the Camelot's fate. Lot's army was sizable enough to give that extra kick that was desperately needed, the one that ensured their chances were not just wishful thinking. Everything settled on Lot's response; they could lose it all in a single refusal.
"Well King Rodor, King Arthur," Lot addressed the two monarchs, giving them a reassured smile and extended his hand to Arthur, "let us hope that we survive the coming days long enough to see this peace."
"In that, we are agreed," said Arthur, mentally giving a sigh in relief as he grasped firmly onto Lot's forearm and gave it a shake in agreement.
The rest of the meeting between the monarchs focused on detailed logistics of the upcoming battle. With the soldiers divided into three groups, it was accepted that each kingdom would be responsible for each force, with Arthur's men led the center force while Rodor and Lot the flanking groups. The druids would be scattered among the men and already Lot sent a message to his soldiers to allow druids to begin enchanting weapons and armor while also familiarizing each other's battle strategies. It was also decided that the dragons would be given free rein in how they participated, with some hesitance on all sides.
The final issue was the presence of Arthur's knights and soldiers who remained in Camelot intermingled amongst the Blood Guard and the late King Alined's army. Arthur hoped that Morgana kept those who were still loyal to him away from the main battle, afraid that they would take the opportunity to turn against her and help the invading force back into Camelot. Arthur knew he must prepare for the possibility that they would be forced into battle against his own men. With grim agreement, they decided they must take out anyone who attacked but would give any a chance to back out of the fight. Hopefully, Arthur thought, the men will be either kept from battle or turn against Morgana.
As for Arthur, there was not much to discuss on who was going to infiltrate the castle. Arthur, along with Iseldir, to help with the anchor and Morgana, and Gwaine, who refused to be left behind when going to retrieve Merlin, would be sneaking in through the vaults, with Iseldir breaking away one of the grates that blocked entrance into the tunnels. Once inside, the three would swiftly find Merlin, break him out, and then give him the draught to take down the anchor and Morgana while she was still unprepared. They hoped the group would not be met with problems, but Arthur knew that the optimism did not necessarily mean they would succeed.
The meeting ended around midday, with an agreement to move out the next day, and spend the rest of the day packing supplies and preparing weapons. When they arrived at Camelot, They would make camp in the Darkling Woods and set up an infirmary under the cover of night in preparation for the influx of the injured that war always promised. Before the sun begins to rise, Arthur would lead his group while the rest of the men would march upon the city and wait for the signal to attack. Even at night and every precaution, Arthur knew Morgana would notice the army. It was with this understanding that Arthur needed to take her attention away from those sneaking into the castle.
Now Arthur found himself stood at the edge of the Physician's chambers, by the doors, watching Gaius and Helena direct a mob of women and children; they sorted and packed herbs, bandages, and equipment to treat any kind of battle related injuries. By the table, Hunith busied herself organizing and counting each herbs, occasionally announcing to the physicians what was needed and what they had enough of so that they, in turn, instructed their helpers what was needed and what they no longer needed to look for. Guinevere, who was in charge of checking the bandages, stepped away from the table and approached Arthur. With gentleness, which Arthur could only associate to his wife, Gwen grabbed ahold of one of Arthur's crossed arms and pulled him to her. Once standing by her side, the Queen led her husband out, away from the noise, down the hall until the two found themselves isolated in a quiet alcove.
Together they stood in each other's embrace, happy to get just a few moments for themselves. With their life a constant struggle recently, Arthur was all too glad to feel the warm body pressed against him and the feel of his hands burrowed into her hair, slowly caressing the back of his head until she gently tugged him closer and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. The Queen then laid her head against her husband's chest with her arm curled behind his back and held on tight.
After a while, Gwen murmured, "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Arthur agreed, tightening his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.
"I'm coming with you."
"You can't," Arthur shook his head.
"Why not? I'm just as capable with a sword as all the others," Gwen scoffed, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face even more tightly against him.
"Because you are the Queen," Arthur said, but not unkindly, as he rested his chin on top of her head. "If something were to happen to me, the kingdom still needs someone on the throne. I trusts no other but you in this regard."
Gwen sighed, "I refuse to be left behind to wonder which one of my family and friends I should begin to mourn. Allow me to at least accompany you and remain in the camp during the battle. I can at least treat of the wounded."
"Only if you promise you will stay out of the fight."
"Fine," Gwen agreed, glad that Arthur saw some semblance of reason though she had hoped to not end up on the sidelines. They stood longer together, taking comfort in each other's presence as their breathing kept rhythm and they continued to hold on tightly.
Guinevere began to shake and, pulling back, Arthur noticed his wife sobbing against his chest, her tears soaked into his tunic.
"Guinevere?"
"How can you stand it?" Gwen asked with a tremble.
"Stand what?"
"Knowing what's going on in Camelot," Gwen pulled back, her teary eyes met Arthur's blues.
Arthur brushed aside a loose curl from Gwen's face before he responded, "By remembering it is my duty as King to save the kingdom."
"And Merlin? You hear what the dragons said. I-I tried to be strong," Gwen's voice trembled, "for everyone, b-but I can't keep it from my mind."
"Merlin is strong, Guinevere," Arthur reassured, though he too had held fear for his manservant.
"He is indeed," Gwen whispered. The Queen leaned into her husband again and forced her body to relax. It was no time to lose one's emotions, there was time for that later.
"Guinevere?" Arthur murmured.
Gwen hummed.
"Whatever happens tomorrow, I-" Arthur began only to be shushed by a slender, calloused finger. Gwen had pulled back from Arthur, one of her arm still rested on his back while her other, whose finger remained on the King's lips, began to caress his cheek.
Giving a small, sad smile, Gwen said, "I know, Arthur, I know." With that, Gwen leaned in and planted her lips firmly on Arthur's. As the King deepened the kiss, he could not rid his mind of a single thought.
That this may be the last moments alone he had with his wife.
They stood in the room.
Phantoms of his failures.
The armlet had done more damage than Merlin feared as these ethereal figures haunted him without the aid of the bracelet. Their outlines were blurred and shapes indistinct as they glided around the room and whispered, with painfully familiar voices, their disappointments. Luckily, these hallucinations were not as potent as those brought on by the armlet's presence were.
Truly, there was much to be thankful.
I gave my life for this? Began the whisperings of a long dead knight echoed through the cell, mocking the warlock's poor attempt at cheer. How tragic for me.
This time, before it could go further, the voice was interrupted by the familiar clank of the lock reverberated throughout the room. The sound was altogether too familiar for the warlock; he felt his muscles tense with anticipation. With helpless resignation, Merlin geared his mind for the coming punishment while behind him echoed a sinister laugh, a laugh that contained excitement for the coming torment. Merlin gave a shudder, more focused in the cacophony of voices rather than the strange silence that preceded the opening of the door.
Typically, Morgana would not hesitate and waste time; she was quick to pick out her favorite tool as she boasted about her recent plans or scorned Merlin. The strange calm that settled in the dank prison, one accompanied by the dripping of water, the scurrying of rats, and murmuring voices, was always interrupted when Morgana entered. Never had Morgana entered the dungeons in silence.
It was only when Merlin turned his eyes towards the door that he was met with an unexpected sight.
Rather than the craze-eyed woman with wild hair and questionable sanity, there was a young girl instead who stood stock still, unsure on what to do with herself. She looked to be no more than fifteen summers and wore a simple tunic, trousers, and boots, clothing similar if not identical to the clothing worn by Morgana's sorcerers. She had fair hair, cut short, and bright, hazel eyes. Slung across her shoulders was a small pack, from which the greenery of herb could be seen peeking out from beneath one of its flaps.
Merlin watched with fascination as the girl, still nervous and perhaps a bit scared, collected herself, adjusted the straps on her shoulder, and strode further into the room. Her wide eyes were careful to remain on the warlock's face. Behind her, wisps began to converge into a solid form as it floated along following the girl.
"M-milady t-told me to make sure y-you stay a-alive," the girl stuttered, her attempt at a fearless façade shattered. The girl gave a gasp when her eyes finally travelled down the servant's body and took in the damage. "I-I will try m-my best, b-b-but I don't have much experience"
Merlin watched as the girl carefully set her bag on the ground and began to rummage through, her hand trembled as she pulled out a multitude of herbs. Once she had all her supplies laid out before her, her face blanked and she stared hard at the mess before her, as if she could decipher its secrets if she could only focus more. The blurry image of his childhood friend drifted closer to the girl, his face set in a sneer. The warlock tried to ignore his presence but felt a slight shiver when it spoke.
What kind of idiot girl wants to help a monster?
The warlock tried to block out the illusion, instead choosing this new presence as the source of his distraction. Gently, so as to not to startle the girl, Merlin asked, "What's your name?" The warlock inwardly winced at the hoarse tone his voice had adopted and the soreness that accompanied his attempt at speech. He could speak no louder than a whisper.
"I'm A-Alison," the girl, Alison, answered, shock heard whether for the question or his rough voice, Merlin could not tell.
Merlin gave a small smile, "Mines Merlin."
Isn't it monster? the peasant man asked.
Or coward? the knight supplied from behind the warlock.
Alison returned the smile, though it was tentative, before she stared glumly down at the herbs before her, "I was sent to make sure you l-lived, but I didn't w-want to use it so I thought…"
"It?"
"Magic," Alison shuddered.
Merlin felt gloom consume him as he stared at yet another victim of the Purge.
"Magic is nothing to be afraid of," Merlin supplied, as gently as he could. He tried to keep his face composed to not scare the girl, but it was proving to be difficult as the illusion behind began to breathe down his neck; its breath seemed to chill his very core.
"Magic creates monsters," Alison argued, tears began to leak from her eyes and her hands, not sure what to do, twitched between different herbs, unsure on which could best treat the injured.
"No," Merlin whispered, "people become monsters. Magic just makes them scarier."
You are the most horrifying of all monsters.
After a moment, Alison gave up on the herbs and instead chose to approach the strung up man, her hands, still twitchy, hovered over the various wound that scattered the servant's bare chest. Her eyes widen as she took in the extent of the damage, from the discolored skin of his shoulders, which was still at an unnatural angle, to his carved torso covered in blood and pus, mostly from the weeping wound that stretched from just below the collarbone to the lower abdomen. There stood a dragon, with wings spread in pride and face twisted in a snarl. The dragon held a likeness to those that the knights bore in their service to the royal household of Camelot. It was a cruel parody of the Pendragon crest; one that mocked the servant's determination to stay true to the King it represented.
While Alison stood before him, frantic and scared on what she was doing, Merlin focused on the feel of solid ground beneath his feet and the pain that radiated from every inch of his body. During times when the hallucinations were at their most vicious, Merlin found this as a way of grounding him to reality ease the intensity of the illusions. Their presence was not at their worse but he did not want to unsettled the girl more than she already was; the last thing he needed was to break down in front of her. More laughs echoed through the dungeons at Merlin's attempt, but they faded and the figure that followed the child began to lose its shape until it was a silvery tendril that wavered in the air. They would not be gone for long, but it allowed Merlin to turn his attention solely on the girl.
Unknowing of the struggle that took place in front of her, Alison's hands flew to and fro between the wounds while her teeth bit into her bottom lip. She was at lost at what to do, knowing that if she didn't decide soon she would be in trouble. As she continued to stand there, Merlin watched and came upon a realization as he observed the strange, nervous girl.
"Morgana didn't really send you, did she?" Merlin asked, a mixture of amusement and exasperation swirled behind his tired eyes.
The girl froze and her hands wrapped themselves at the edges of her tunic while her shoulders hunched over and tears welled into her eyes, "I-I was s-sent-"
"I know Morgana, and she wouldn't miss an opportunity to prod at me," Merlin gently interrupted.
The tears broke through and silently made its way down the girls cheeks as she stood dejectedly with her hands tightened around the fabric and head bowed.
"No, she did not," the girl mumbled with an undertone of fear. A breath later before she lifted her head, wide brown eyes meeting blue, and spoke up again, frantic, "Please don't say anything. I promise to help you as much as I can if you keep my visit a secret!"
Merlin gave a soft laugh, "If Morgana as capable of getting information from me that easily, then I wouldn't be here. Though I have to wonder, why are you in here?"
"I," Alison hesitated, "I was looking for my parents."
"Oh," croaked Merlin, his voice became more strained as continued the conversation. Rather than vocally ask the girl about the reasons why her parent would be imprisoned, the servant gave a questioning look, hoping she understood.
The girl continued, answering the question behind the man's eyes, "One of Morgana's men saw me perform magic to heal my brother; he managed to hurt his wrist when he tripped and his wrist turned at an odd angle." Alison gave a sad, quiet laugh; her eyes welled up with more tears. "They made a grab for me and my brother tried to stop them. I-I heard one of the sorcerers incant followed by my brother screams."
Tears flowed freely from her eyes, though she still desperately tried to stop it as her hand rubbed at the tears. "I don't know what happened to him, they had already had me chained, but they also grabbed my parents. They dragged us to Morgana and she threatened my parents in order for me to become the Court Physician, use my magic for her services."
The girl stood quiet again and gave the prisoner, who had closed his eyes in exhaustion, a glance. After a moment, Merlin whispered, "You're afraid she didn't keep her promise for your parents' safety."
The girl nodded, "Many have already been punished for speaking out against the Queen, either by flogging or death." Alison mumbled the last statement quietly as her eyes traced the various wounds on the servant, mentally cataloguing them. She itched to close the gaping wound on his chest and to snap the servant's shoulders in place, but she held back by not only her limited knowledge of her magic and medicine but also by the fear of Morgana finding out she had paid an authorized visit to the man.
"I can assume you have not found them yet?" Merlin continued, trying to even his ragged breath and keep calm; the girl's situation, though not a personal front against him, made Merlin ache all the more over the damage the witch had inflicted to the kingdom. If he ever escaped…
No. When, not if.
When he escaped, Merlin reminded himself, ashamed that he had allowed such thoughts into his consciousness. What was he if he allowed himself to sink into the despair, the hopelessness, of his situation? Had the torture, the armlet, the hallucinations really caused him to lose so much faith in himself? What was the point of his suffering if he died in the end after month spent in misery, accompanied by the rats as Morgana's smirk hovered over him? Allowing himself to die right there, hung from the ceiling and ready for slaughter, would had made the last months pointless.
Alison, whose personality Merlin gotten a glimpse of, was one of the many victims under Morgana's rule. She had a family to love, a life to live, yet it was all torn away from her because of a single action, that should have otherwise been harmful. Though under normal circumstances, Alison would had been charged of treason against the crown for participating, in what the Purge forced many to believe, was evil, she still could have been saved. Since Arthur's rule, executions had stop becoming commonplace at the refusal to persecute anyone without evidence. Hell, Merlin was sure Arthur wouldn't even think twice in letting this girl be killed, too young for him to place on the pyre without guilt. Besides, if Camelot had been the proud kingdom it once was before the witch, Merlin was confident that he would have snuck the young healer from the dungeons.
No, Merlin mustn't give up.
Weakened the way you are, what could you even accomplish? returned a voice, though whose Merlin wasn't sure.
All that matter was that he would push his body beyond his limits to save Camelot again.
Your shoulders were destroyed, arms practically useless, what use is a body that could not properly function?
He had his magic, he need not fight physically.
Magic that had been burning you from the inside. A whirlwind of power that you could not possibly control if released. Face it Merlin, you will be worthless before its might.
He would control it, as he always had.
If you believe so, it laughed and faded away.
All the arguments, all the reason it had made, that bade and urged him to relent, to embrace an end no matter if it meant death, began to melt away before his determination. With Alison silent tears for her parents and for, he begun to realize, the servant, Merlin silently swore he would do all he could to place the rightful King back on the throne and bring back the once happy life that had teemed through the city. He would ensure Alison, and all those like her, returned to their homes and families; even if they had nothing to go back to, Merlin would fight for their rights for a peaceful life, away from the war they had no wish to participate..
Alison answered, unaware of the emotions that swept through the prisoner before her, "No and I don't know whether I should be glad for it. They may not be here, but doesn't mean she did not kill them"
Merlin opened his eyes and regarded the girl before her, mentally thankful of her reckless actions that had led him to his revelations. He must focus on the lives that remained, not the one that were lost, the same way he must focus on what he could do and not what he couldn't. His heart was still beating and he still held an element of surprise.
He was Emrys.
He was the prophesized greatest warlock to walk this land and ever walk this land.
Even when Morgana stomped him into the ground, took everything from him, forced him to the edges of sanity, he would always, always, do what must be done for the kingdom. For the beautiful future of Albion he would create alongside his best friend. The witch was nothing.
Morgana was nothing.
With that in mind, Merlin opened his eyes, for he had once against closed his eyes, and spoke, his voice a mere whisper, "Alison, you have best be going, before the guards realize you are not meant to be here and don't worry about your parents for they would rather you were safe. Protect yourself, Alison, and wait, for Morgan may have ruled for months but she will not rule forever"
Alison gave a tearful snort, "How would you know?"
Merlin gave her a small smile, his eyes fluttered closed, not in exhaustion but in acceptance, "Because Morgana could never hold the throne for long. We still have hope. The King and Queen are still alive and when the moment they return, they will reclaim the throne from Morgana. I will ensure it."
Alison gave him a measuring look before she walked away, stooped down to collect the supplies from the ground, and returned them to her bag. Then she slung the bag over her shoulder and was about to leave before she changed her mind and turned back towards the servant. Her eyes were rimmed in red, but dry from her tears, as she stared at the servant. She then walked back before Merlin and placed her hand softly against his chest.
Merlin eyes flew open as he gave a small gasp at the sharp sting the girls hand caused against his torn flesh. Alison gave an apologetic smile before she turned her focus at the wound. Merlin only saw a brief glimpse of gold in the girl's eyes before his eyes closed and he gave an involuntary groan. Warmth, emanated from the girl's hand, began to spread throughout his body, to even the very end of his toes and fingers, taking with it the pain and exhaustion that had become familiar to him. It was all Merlin could do to not pass out from relief. Instead, he chose to crack open his eyes and stare in shock and gratefulness at the girl.
"I-it's not m-much," Alison haltingly said, the nervousness underlying her voice gave evidence of her unease towards magic, even her own. "I can't h-heal the wounds, not without Morgana knowledge, but I can at least provide you a break from the pain. I don't know how long the m-magic will last."
With that, Alison turned away and hurried towards the door, not before Merlin saw the slight exhaustion in her eyes that etched into her eyes from the magic. Before she was able to walk through the doorway out of the cell, Merlin spoke up, much louder than before though still rough.
"Thank you, Alison, for everything."
The girl flashed him a smile then left the warlock alone in the cell.
In her wake, the tendrils swirled together into another familiar figure. Still indistinguishable, Merlin could feel its sneer.
Remember, Merlin, your worth.
"I know," murmured the servant, his eyes latched onto the illusions, "I understand I am worthless, but I am enough to save Camelot. I am enough against Morgana."
Arthur marched down the halls of the castle, annoyance filled him as he mulled over the recent message a timid servant had brought him. It had invited him to the local tavern, by the name of The Belching Unicorn, of all the most ridiculous names, to join in a round of drinks among his brother-in-arms. Normally the King would not have given a second thought to nights of drinking before a mission, but this wasn't a mission.
It was a war.
A battle that would determine not only their future but also the future of Camelot. The last thing he needed was his knights tending a hangover during battle.
Though Arthur knew he need not worry for such a thing to happen, excluding Gwaine of course, his mind rationalized he should at least end their night early to err on the side of caution. It was only because of Gaius that Arthur paused in his trek to the tavern.
"Sire," Gaius bowed, "may I have a word? It won't take long."
Arthur sighed before waving his hand for the physician to continue, "What is on your mind Gaius?"
"I want to speak with you about what you plan to do about Merlin and all the other sorcerers that Morgana managed to uproot."
Arthur stood quietly for a moment. The topic on what he would do had always been set at the back of his mind, until now. Arthur thought of all he had learned about his friend, as little as he did managed to get, the past four months. His mind warred over the options he had of his manservant's fate; whether he would accept the warlock, banish, or, Arthur shuddered, execute him. The King could no deny that he held anger against the warlock, but Arthur had begun to realize that he would not lead the servant to his death. He couldn't. Not after all they had one through together and all Arthur was sure Merlin had gone through in the claws of Morgana.
However, where did that leave Arthur?
Could he allow an exception to the laws? And what of the people who were forced out, those who possessed magic but want nothing more than to live peacefully in the safety the shadows had given them from the law? Arthur couldn't imagine reclaiming the throne only to lead more innocents to the pyre.
Still, could he push past years of beliefs that magic was evil, enough to repeal the laws and allow it into the kingdom? Could he disregard the people who feared magic as he had because of the Purge? Or could he sacrifice the people named sorcerers and his druidic allies for the comfort of the rest?
Arthur wasn't sure if he could imagine a land of sorcery, his mind conjured up only images of pain and suffering, beasts attacking and homes burning as magic swept freely through the land. Yet, Arthur reminded himself, wasn't such idea unrealistic, born of prejudice and ignorance? The King was met with a difficult decision, with the right choice being one that would grate against his own personal beliefs and morals.
It was all Arthur could do but say, "I don't know Gaius; I don't know what I am going to do." Arthur rubbed his eyes as he mused over the situation. "I can promise you one thing, I won't execute Merlin nor do I think should the others be executed, but I don't know what to do," Arthur repeated.
Gaius gave him an understanding look and said, "Every King is met with hardships, some more than others. It is up to you, Arthur, to make not only the best but the right choice."
"What must I do then? I can't follow my father's laws, not when we allied ourselves to the druids and gave them the freedom to use their magic in battle."
"I can't tell you what to do Arthur," sighed Gaius, "but I can advise you."
"Then what is it you advise?"
"I will tell you what I have been telling you, Sire. Magic is a part of the natural order of the land, a power that can be both beautiful and frightening depending on the whims of its wielder. If you do not believe magic can be good, though I doubt you still hold such a belief, know that the people use magic in your defense."
"Do you support repealing the anti-magic laws?"
"Yes," Gaius said, meeting Arthur in the eye. Arthur looked away first, unable to meet the eye of the man who had known him since he was a babe.
"Sire," Gaius called, making sure he had the full King's attention before continuing, "Whatever you decide, if you banish Merlin, I will go with him."
"You and Gwaine both," Arthur murmured and watched as Gaius gave another bow and left Arthur in the middle of the hall. He knew Gaius told him this not to convince him to not banish Merlin but to ensure the King understood that he would be without a physician. As for the issue on magic, Arthur found himself pushing it out of his mind; he decided to focus on the current issue with his possibly inebriated knights.
Arthur travelled out of the castle and through the city street. Few people remained outside, most choosing to spend what little time they had with loved ones and friends than interact with their neighbors. They knew what was at stake in the coming days. It was only when Arthur reached the tavern did the silence break by the din of rowdy men and squealing barmaids.
The Belching Unicorn was not the most charming place in Nemeth; it was a two-story building that sat, squashed between two stores. The upper floor was what Arthur assumed housed the inn side of the business, providing room and service to people who travelled to the city. A heavy wooden door, left open, provided an inviting view of antics within. Arthur could see the men who laughed, drank, and even sang while the barmaid scurried about in swishing skirts and chatted with the patrons while they handed wooden mugs of ale and collected payment.
Arthur stepped inside, careful to not bump into anyone as he made his way through. In the back corner of the room stretched a counter, behind which the barman busied himself filling mugs with ale, which he exchanged for empty ones to be cleaned. Many men were simply drinking and having a good time while a few gambled with dice and money being thrown down as the patrons tried their luck. It was beside a gambling table that Arthur spotted his knights.
As he expected, most were sharing a moment of camaraderie over the burn of alcohol. They appeared to be swapping stories and jest as they enjoyed one last night of peace. Though Arthur felt a pang of guilt that he was going to order them back, he knew he had to ensure they were prepared for the journey ahead of them.
"'Ello Arthur!" Gwaine shouted in greeting. He lifted his mug, downed the remaining ale in one gulp before he slammed it down and lifted his hand to a nearby barmaid for more. The barmaid however failed to notice the knight's gesture, distracted by another group of clients.
"Oi, mates," Gwaine turned to the others, "I'll go get us more." With that, the knight stumbled from his chair and navigated his way through the tavern, nearly running into several people..
Arthur gave a sigh, "I came here to tell you guys to have an early night, though it seems I was too late for Gwaine."
"Yes, Sire," responded Leon as around the table the Knights of the Round began to rise from their seats and make their way towards the exit.
"Do you want me to get Gwaine, Sire?" offered Percival with a grin.
"No I can get him," Arthur dismissed, to which Percival nodded and made his leave.
Arthur then headed in the direction Gwaine had gone and soon found the knight leaning against the bar counter, mug in hand, chatting up the barmaid, who Arthur had seen earlier. Though the rambunctious knight seemed to be relaxed and cheerful, Arthur knew better by the tightness in his eyes, the force in his smile, and the speed in which he now downed his ale.
"So Katelin, what's a fine lady like you working here. You don't suppose you're too busy later?" Gwaine said wiggling his eyebrows to the blushing barmaid.
Katelin smirked. "Taverns are wonderful lively places full of very talented men," the barmaid said with a wink; she placed a hand on her hip as she eyed the knight teasingly.
With a laugh, Gwaine exclaimed, "Now that the kind of girl I like!"
"Well Gwaine, sorry to end your fun early, but it's time to go," Arthur said before the situation progressed further.
"Awww," groaned Gwaine, "why must you spoil the fun, Princess?"
"Because the last thing I need is your arse moaning and groaning all the way the Camelot."
"Don't compare your inability to handle your liquor to me. It takes far more than this to get me in such a state, unlike you Princess," Gwaine slurred.
"Then it's a good thing I came to stop you," Arthur smirked, "and order you to go get some sleep while you can."
"Fine," Gwaine grumbled, eyeing the half-empty mug of ale. "But before we leave." Gwaine tipped the remainder of the ale to the floor, where it splashed onto the hardwood floor and splattered the nearby people. Katelin gave a squeal of laughter as she jumped back and dodged the liquid while men all around burst into laughter with the thought of the one drunkard too far gone to even properly hold a mug.
"Gwaine!" Arthur reprimanded and took ahold of the knight's arm, which the King slung over his shoulder and led him out the door, after giving a quick promise to repay the knight's tab.
Out in the cool air and away from the loud noise of the tavern the two stumbled through the road back towards the castle.
"I wanted him to have a drink too," mumbled Gwaine after a while.
Arthur felt his throat constrict and pulled the knight's arm further across his shoulder when he felt the man begin to slide off. Gwaine did not notice and continued in his drunken, stumbling haze.
"When we get back, I want to drink with everyone at The Rising Sun, even you Princess" Gwaine hiccupped around his smile, "and Merlin with his fancy tricks. Oh, the trouble we can do, the endless possibilities magic can give us! Princess, you promise me you will give Merlin a week off! I want to see him drunk. Imagine a sorcerer as clumsy as Merlin drunk!" Gwaine threw back his head in laughter before he lolled against Arthur's shoulder, mumbling on dancing furniture and flying cats that battled against unicorns and wyverns, ideas that made Arthur wonder the extent of the knight's imagination.
When Arthur reached the castle, he led the knight to his room and was just about to dump the drunk onto the bed when Gwaine grabbed the King's shirt and said, "Princess, don't be... a prat… don't do anything to Merlin he doesn't deserve, especially after everything Morgana put him through. I don't want to do something I probably shouldn't." With that, Gwaine pushed off from Arthur and stumbled into his bed. It took seconds before the knight's loud snores began, signifying that the knight had fallen asleep.
King stood there and watched the knight, not surprised by his words but sadden of having been reminded on his friend. Ever since Gwaine and Percival had returned, the two spoke little of what had occurred to them in Camelot. Gwaine, ever the drunkard, had focused into helping the King in any way he could during the day while he drank himself stupid at night. Arthur always believed the man's drinking habits were terrible, yet it seemed to have worsened tenfold since the knight's return. Even Percival seemed to speak less than the norm, choosing to give silent steadfast support in their endeavor to reclaim the throne.
Whatever had caused these changes to his knights, Arthur knew it was bad. There would much to do once they returned; he could not even imagine the damage Morgan had wrought upon the people. As Arthur let the knight's room and returned to his own chambers where he stripped off his tunic and trousers and put on his nightclothes then slid into bed, careful as to not wake Gwen, Arthur imagined what it was like in Camelot and what he would find. Apprehension struck him as he realized he would be one of the first to see Merlin, aside from Gwaine and Percival, after his imprisonment for the past four months. Arthur could not help but shudder when he imagined the different injuries his friend acquired over the course of his imprisonment.
With these thoughts, the King knew he would not be getting much sleep.
AN: Sorry guys for not posting until now. I tried to get the chapter done before last Friday, but I didn't realize how much time I really had. Plus uni is making it a bit difficult to update as often as I was before. Because of this, the next chapter may not be posted until two week from now, so don't be surprised if there is not an update by next Wednesday. I will try to find the time but I can't make promises :(
Again, expect the next update two weeks from now at the latest though I will attempt to post within the week.
Thank you to everyone one who reviewed/favorite/alerted my story! (Seriously 200 followers!? o,O) All of you guys are amazing!
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was a long one!