Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
The effects of the armlet had placed too much strain on the warlock's mind. With the lengths of time Morgana forced him to suffer under its affects, it was more than he could handle and the torment only served to damage him further. He already retained hallucinations without its help; hallucinations that though not as corporeal as the one brought forth from wearing the armlet still wore down his mental defenses.
After Alison had paid him a visit, Morgana showed up, demanding for the identity of the person that had entered his cells without her permission. Her eyes held an insane touch and sparkled with her wild magic; those golden greens swiveled around the cell as if searching for the presence of a third. In a haze, Merlin vaguely wondered if she had thought to ask the guards posted at his cell but dismissed it quickly when he felt more than saw the madness that oozed from her being. The source for her insanity became apparent when she repeated her question again; this time she demanded if Emrys had once again broken into the citadel. She ranted, with fingers clutched desperately into the tangled mess of hair, about the mysterious sorcerer who mocked her. Emrys wanted nothing more but to show her how easily he could go in and out of the citadel without her knowledge.
Merlin only laughed in her face. If she lacked the common sense to ask her own guards then he lacked any sense of self-preservation he had left. He was no longer on the cusps of sanity but rather he immersed himself in the madness and used its lack of care to aid him against the witch. Insanity helped through the torture, the pain, but he held fast to the sliver of sanity he had left with hopes that it would be enough to pull him back from the madness. That little sliver of his mind wondered with despair if his twisted shield would lead him to follow the witch's wicked path.
When Morgana's response was to brandish the armlet that small part of him shrunk in fear; even the madness shirked from the bracelets effects. In the corner of the cell stood Will, his form transparent and outline blurred, with a sneer in place at the reaction Merlin displayed before the witch. He could already hear his whispers that named him coward. The ghostly form of his childhood friend continued to taunt him, his voice faint, about his failures, more reminders of just how worthless Merlin had been; all the while Morgana drew closer. The warlock was at lost what to do, move away from Will or the bracelet? In the end he shrunk from Morgana's approach for even insanity could not shield him from more of the armlet's influence. The illusion in the cell was nothing compared to what that bracelet could drag out.
Then that little sliver beckoned him further inward, its voice like a lullaby that lulled him into comfort. It called for the servant to withdraw, to pull away from this awful reality for a void that promised numbness from the corrupted world around him. The void had frightened him and, at first, he resisted. His resistance was born of the fear that he would be giving in, death disguised as safety. However, the second Morgana had clasped the armlet to his bicep, the second the faces of those he killed, Nimueh, Agravaine, Morgause, even Uther, Merlin began to relent. His grip on reality loosened and he allowed the call to lull him into the void until he felt nothing. The numbness swaddled him in darkness; it isolated him from the pain and blame. For the first time Merlin was without pain. There was only one word he could describe this beautiful experience; one that he had not felt in months.
Safe.
Or as safe as anyone who had gone catatonic before a witch eager to beat answers from him was. But as everything was in his life lately, safety was just another lie to keep him at ease. He needed all the lies he could get to keep him from completely giving into one of Morgana's requests. It was still difficult to shake the feeling that he had already given up in the dark corners of his mind.
Either way the darkness consumed him; he floated through its emptiness.
Morgana paused. Her prey's unresponsive state confused and irritated her. No longer could she hear his wails as his regrets manifested into the ghosts of his past and haunted him. She approached the man, wary of the slumped form. He was hung low enough for his leg to support his body yet he slumped in the restraints, head hung from his neck. She removed the armlet all the while she peered into his face, still confused.
Merlin knew that Morgana would not be able to get information from him. Not like this.
Morgana used magic, the servant's body arched from where it sat. His limbs tensed and hands twitched but his eyes, wide open, remained vacant and his jaw hung open, slack even as his body reacted to the pain. If it weren't for the seizure inducing magic she forced into his body, Morgana would believe he wasn't in pain.
The agony was just a shadow, a phantom pain that remained as a reminder to Merlin. No longer did it consume him the way it did in the waking world.
Morgana continued to shout her questions. She forced more magic into him, her voice demanded for Emrys' identity, but the only noise from the servant's seizing body was his gasping breathes.
Merlin was freed from Morgana, if only for a short while.
Morgana returned the bracelet to his arm, snarling that he would die where he sat among his failures. She was done with him.
Merlin could remain here forever.
The pain.
Gone.
The responsibilities.
Gone.
The regrets.
It was all gone; he had what he wanted the most, he had his rest.
If he wanted to, Merlin could slip away completely in this state.
No, not yet. Not when people needed him the most; he could feel it. The end was coming, how it would end he had no idea, but it was coming. For now, he would enjoy the comforts extended to him from the void.
Merlin?
A voice penetrated through his haven; sliced through every barrier his mind created between him and reality.
Merlin?
It reverberated through his mind in a way nothing else could; that thought alone sent shivers through Merlin's entire being. In its wake, more voices, as familiar as the first, entered his subconscious, though those words were indistinguishable. Those voices did not carry the same importance the first had.
Merlin.
That voice was more than familiar. That voice defined Merlin's very existence. It held friendship and loyalty to n extant that no other could offer him. It defined his destiny. Everything he had done and everything he would do was for the man behind that voices.
What about magic?
Yes, even his magic served that man. Merlin was nothing but a vessel for his power, ready to direct his talents under the whims of this one single man. He would do anything for the man; anything to accomplish that prophecy for his best friend and fulfill the dream that took the form of a golden era across Albion.
I can assume that is what contains his magic.
His magic roiled. It was contained, yes, but it itched for freedom, released from the prison of its master body; the flesh limited its potential. It wanted nothing more than to be of use, whether it was to smite an enemy or finish a chore. It was more, much more, than just the petty excuse of magic the average sorcerers possessed
What is it?
It was magic in its truest forms, the purest that had ever been seen. Merlin could laugh at the silly parlor tricks most sorcerers performed to kill the King. His magic was everything to him, his essence. Without it, he would be a shell. It was already painful ignore it pleas, side with the chains, and hold it back, even if it was for the best.
Nowhere. Iseldir what do we need to do for this draught to work?
So that was the identity of one of the other voices, Iseldir, the kind druid chieftain, who offered nothing but wisdom during all his short interactions with Merlin. The servant felt comforted by his presence. He was one of many Merlin had wished to show to his King as proof that there was goodness in magic. One of the many who would benefit from fairer laws for magic; he would, in turn, be there to aid the kingdom at its darkest of times.
We can take him to the Court Physician's chamber. There we can treat whatever wounds we can while you focus on the chains.
Home, they wanted to take him home. Oh how Merlin ached to be back in those chambers. To sleep on his bed among his cluttered room. To curl around his spell book, eyes glowing gold and lighting the room in ways candle could not. To study a spell until dawn's light colored the sky and the sun chased the away the moon and the stars. To expand his knowledge on the magic that had become his very core. To sup with his mentor and laugh away the events a particular day had brought, whether it was another threat to the crown or playful pranks between the knights.
The wall he erected around his mind began to crumble before the army of memories the voice led through him.
We will defeat Morgana.
Of course. Morgana must be stopped. She must pay for her crimes against Albion and for the darkness she unleashed upon Camelot. She would pay for the pain she caused to Merlin, for his useless body and protesting magic. For his dead mother and the regrets brought fresh in his mind by the darkest of the magical arts.
The imagined stonework fell to pieces, its rubble made itself present in the void.
We will recapture Camelot.
And returned her to its rightful ruler, King Arthur, the Once and Future King, who was born to lead his people into peace and unite all of Albion. Camelot and King Arthur, one could not be without the other.
Light disrupted the darkness around him. Pain began to radiate through him again, its influence growing with every beam of light that shot through the cracks.
And when Camelot is free, when Morgana has fallen. I promise you this, my friend. I promise that we will talk, of everything that has happened since your arrival to Camelot, so that I may repay all debts and fix all wrongs against you. Even if it takes a lifetime, I promise you this.
Debts and wrongs? Everything he had done since moving to Camelot? That tale would take a lifetime to tell properly, to give justice of all the things he had done. Every accomplishment and every failure, Merlin would leave none out if that were what his King wished. Arthur may believe that he owed much to him but Merlin knew that there was more to the servant than the King knew, Merlin had that to thank the armlet for showing him.
Merlin would tell Arthur anything, not for reward for his services but for Arthur to judge him fairly with full knowledge of Merlin's action. If his King wished to see his actions as debts to repay and wrongs to fix, so be it. That was Arthur, and Arthur alone to decide.
The walls finally fell away and his conscious mind slammed back into reality. Agony rose through his body and crushed his fragile mind. With all the emotions, all the thoughts that spiraled around him Merlin reacted without thought. Coerced by everything he had done and heard, everything that he knew, Merlin responded the only way he could.
"I'll hold you to that promise, prat."
Arthur looked to his side in surprise. He did not expect the servant to respond to his declaration though he was glad to hear the man speak. His eyes latched onto the servant's face, noting that though they were a far cry from the bright, cheerful blues that were of norm, the servant's eyes were no longer vacant. Though dulled, the eyes still held the intelligence that Arthur had not moments ago longed to see in his friend's face.
"Merlin," sighed Arthur, unable to say more as relief crashed down on him. At least they were not too late.
Merlin's eyes rolled around, soaking up the new environment. The muscles of his jaws tightened and his body tensed when his eyes swept between the two people who held him up. Suspicion entered that gaze followed by dread and fear, though Arthur could not guess as to why Merlin felt that towards them. That was until the servant spoke again.
His head lolled back down against his chest as he muttered, "They're not real, Merlin, just ignore them."
"Merlin," Arthur said though paused, unsure in what to say after he got the man's attention, but was saved by Iseldir when he, ahead of them, beckoned them to pause. Quickly, they ducked into the nearest door, which led to an empty guest room, and waited with bated breaths as they watched a small group of soldiers run down the hall. It was only when the echoes of their footsteps faded away that they finally left and continued on their way. As much as Arthur wanted to speak to his friend, he decided to wait until they got to the relative safety of Gaius' chambers, away from sight, hearing, and the risks of capture.
Within a few tense minutes of sneaking through the halls, they had arrived at the rooms. They had ran into several more groups of soldiers and sorcerers, and one frightening moment in which the Blood Guard approached the door they stood behind too closely, but the combination of Iseldir's attentiveness and the Camelot King and knight's knowledge of the castle, they managed to remain hidden. Iseldir whispered a quick incantation to unlock the door and the rest scurried into the room. Iseldir strode to the cabinets and began collecting herbs, reading the salves necessary to help Merlin. Gwaine and Arthur hurried to the cot at the center of the room and laid Merlin down carefully. Even though they tried not to aggravate the wounds, a moan still escaped Merlin's lips as they arranged him on the bed.
Once situated, Arthur called out again, "Merlin?"
The man had kept his eyes close throughout most of the journey through the halls though the occasional gasps of pain escaped his mouth when they moved too quickly into hiding. At the sound of his voice, Merlin tensed again, as if prepared for an attack. He continued his earlier mutterings, his voice more desperate than before as he tried to ignore his friends' presence.
"Mate, come on," Gwaine said in his rather pitiful attempt at cheer, "if we weren't real then who dragged your rear end over here."
In response, Merlin laughed, a sound that sent a chill down Arthur's spine. He spat, his voice full with venom, "You just had to go and make it stronger didn't you, Morgana? What's next, my parents stabbing me? Or how about my best friends tearing me to shreds."
"Merlin," Arthur whispered, his voice more gentle than he thought capable, "Morgana isn't here. You're not in the dungeons anymore."
"Go away, please," Merlin moaned, his body trembled.
"Merlin, you idiot," Arthur tried again, his voice more firm, "that is not how you speak to your King."
Merlin flinched, "You are not my King. You are but an illusion brought on by Morgana's magic."
"Tell me then, Merlin, if this is an illusion to you,"" Arthur argued as he reached and grabbed ahold of the servant's arms and wrenched him upright into a sitting position. Merlin gasped as pain laced through his arm from the movement. Beside him, Gwaine protested but at Arthur's glare, he silenced his objections into grumbles and chose to help keep the servant upright and relieve any unnecessary strain the King put on the servant.
With his full face in view, Arthur noted the tired, pallid face lined with pain. He felt guilt for causing the servant more pain but brushed it aside; he needed Merlin out of whatever delusion trapped him. With a gentle shake, Arthur commanded, "Look at me Merlin and tell me what you see is fake."
Merlin shook his head, still not wanting to believe, to hope, that he was no longer in the dungeons. It took another shake before the warlock's eyes fluttered open, his eyes adjusted and focused on the figures standing before him. His blue eyes widened and with a strangled whisper, full of uncertainty and fear, he said, "A-Arthur?"
"Yes, dollop head," Arthur sighed, "and if you stop being a girl you will realize how much of an idiot you are being right now."
"H-how are you he-here?" Merlin said, his trembling turned into shaking.
"Why does it matter? We're here to get you out."
"It matters Arthur. Morgana wants your head on a stake; I'll want to know if she knows where to find it"
Arthur felt a pang in his chest and found it hard to swallow past the lump in his throat. Even battered, bruised, and confused, Merlin still worried for the King. Arthur had known many men who would give their life to Arthur, who pride themselves in their loyalty to the crown. They all paled in comparison to Merlin. Never before had Arthur seen such loyalty, loyalty that even when beaten, tortured, and brought to the brink of death, it still burned strongly through the warlock. The shame he felt before was nothing like the shame he felt now seeing the servant he doubted for months worry for him as he had always done.
"We got an army currently distracting her," Arthur dismissed, not bothering to mention what Iseldir had last heard of the witch's location. The last thing they needed was to instigate Merlin into action when the man could barely sit up.
Merlin shook his head, "She would know you got me out. She has those cells enchanted."
"Yes but I can't leave you here," Arthur said, "no one deserve this, least of all you."
Tears welled up in Merlin's eyes and silently traveled down his grime-covered cheeks. He was not sure how much Arthur realized of the warlock's condition, of how Merlin doubted the reality and believed his mind was playing tricks on him. It was not beyond the armlet's capabilities to create a fictional scenario of safety among friends if it was to rip it away from him. It had been a long time since he had to deal with Morgana and her followers and though he had spotted Gwaine and Percival occasionally before he freed them, the long weeks between solitude and the witch's visit had carved deep scars into his mind.
Then the illusions started, produced by an armlet that used the images of his loved ones to torment him beyond anything Morgana had done. Even without the previous months torture, Merlin wouldn't have been able to handle the stress, but his battered state made him even more susceptible to the pain. His mutterings did nothing to comfort him; he knew they were not real, but his senses prevented him from accepting such truths. He was going mad; he had gone mad.
His body shook harder and Merlin bit his lip both in pain and to hold back the rising emotions. Happiness and grief consumed him for what little of him that remained was free at last. He mourned for what he had lost at the hand of Morgana, for he had lost much from the past months. As he looked towards Arthur, his King and best friend, through his blurry eyes, Merlin knew that he would always see the accusing eyes that the illusions had adopted. The eyes that blamed him for all that had happened to Camelot. The experience forever changed him, and that was what Merlin feared the most.
He did not matter. All that matter was Camelot; why a King would worry over his worthless servant was beyond Merlin. He was just a servant and as such, he was to serve his master in whatever he needed. Merlin knew his worth, he knew that he was the useless excuse of a servant Arthur had always called him but that would not stop the warlock from giving his best effort to the King.
Merlin felt the arrogance he held in the past, before Morgana showed him just where he stood. He would prove to his King how much of an asset he really was, even if the servant could not believe it. His body, mind, and magic served Arthur's wishes, and Merlin would be damned if he could not fulfill his destiny.
No matter how worthless he was, Merlin would give his last to ensuring Morgana was gone from Camelot. After that, Arthur may do as he wished to Merlin; he would accept any punishment. If Arthur told him to leave Camelot, he would ask which direction, and if he ordered him to the pyre, Merlin would light it himself. For what good is a servant who did not obey his master.
"Merlin…" Arthur hesitated, "we also need your help."
"Of course," Merlin forced a smile. Looks like worthless people were still needed.
"Morgana and the chimeras are too strong for us or our forces to handle. We need to destroy the anchor that keeps them within our world and rid ourselves of Morgana."
"I won't be of much use to you then, I can barely sit up," Merlin mumbled, staring pointedly at the arms that kept him upright.
"Well you won't need to be fighting only to drink a potion."
"Potion? What for?"
"You ask what potion when you look like death warmed over," Gwaine muttered with a touch of sarcasm. "Gods forbid if it was for anything beneficial."
Arthur ignored him and continued, "One that would allow another to borrow your magic momentarily."
Merlin looked away, tense, "Are you not mad about the magic?"
"I-"
"Don't lie to me," Merlin said, voice hard.
"Shut up and let me finish," Arthur snapped. "I was mad and I still am."
"Then why are you asking me to do this?"
"Because I want to understand," Arthur murmured. Merlin looked back in surprise as he watch Arthur squirm uncomfortably, gathering the strength to open up to who he saw as his best friend. Arthur had months to sort through his thoughts, it was about time he put words to it. "When I found out you had magic, my first reaction was anger. After everything that happened with sorcery, after Morgana, can you blame me for feeling anything but betrayed? I knew Morgana for years, I grew up with her and that didn't stop her from turning against her friends and family. She betrayed us for her magic."
"Magic did not turn Morgana into a traitor," Merlin snapped
"No it, did not, but neither did it help," Arthur sighed. "I learned many things these past months in Nemeth, including some on you and the identity of Emrys."
Merlin flinched.
"I cannot promise you that I have no fear of magic or that I don't feel anger but I want to try. I learned that the laws of magic are unfair and I hope to fix that. I want to create and fair and just kingdom for all under my care, even those who possess magic as long as they are not a threat."
"As it should be," Merlin whispered. "Punishment should be given on the actions and not the means."
"Then we can change it, together."
"Emrys," Iseldir said as he approached with an armful of bandages and medicine. Gwaine glanced at the druid while Merlin still searched Arthur's face, trying to discern if he was being honest before turning to the druid.
"Iseldir," Merlin responded with a small nod. "You are helping Camelot now?"
"Yes. King Arthur approached us in peace and a need of help. We have provided a solution but it requires your gift."
"My magic?" Merlin asked. His magic had settled down since he had retreated into himself but now it stirred, waiting for its freedom. It was like a slumbering beast during its final days of hibernation, its body uncurling and wakening to the new season, ready to explore it surrounding and escape the cave that it had been encased in for weeks. The magic was sluggish but below the surface was an expanse of power that laid waiting to burst through the weak little bounds that kept it in line.
"I brought a draught that would allow me to use the power you drew into yourself. It will allow me to use your strength without needing you to be in battle, only awake."
"No," Merlin deadpanned.
"What?" Arthur asked, incredulous.
"I can't allow Iseldir to do this," Merlin continued, his blue eyes piercing Arthur's, "My magic has been restricted for four months, the moment these chains are removed, "he nodded to his arm, "it will be near impossible to control, let alone Iseldir to handle."
"But we need it. You are the only one powerful enough to destroy the anchor that holds the chimeras into our world. Only a sorcerer more or of equal power can destroy it. If we don't rid the castle of the anchor we might as well condemn our entire armies to death."
"I didn't say we can't destroy the anchor, just I won't allow Iseldir to do it."
"Then how do you suppose we do it?" Arthur said as ran his hand through his hair.
"I'll do it."
"That's insane, Merlin," Gwaine pointed out.
"Maybe so, but I still want to try."
"Emrys, even knowing the incantation, the enchantment will be difficult to perform without practice. It is best if you allow me to direct your magic," Iseldir reasoned.
"I have to do what I must to protect this kingdom and everyone it holds," Merlin responded, his tone trembled not in weakness but rather in anger. "It was my job before and it is my job now. I will not allow another take my place, not after sitting here, useless, for months."
"But we cannot chance losing the opportunity-"
"No!" Merlin screamed. He shook harder than ever as he violently swung his head back and forth in denial. He would not allow another in his place; he promised himself that he would at least help the kingdom if there were nothing else he could do. In his agitation, the slivers of calm he managed to grasp escaped him and the corners of the chambers took on dark shadows. Each shadow grew and curled outwards and expanded into the room. Its jarring movements unsettled the warlock further for he clenched his eyes tight and trembled even harder. Murmurings reverberated through the room and whispered into his ears. They told of Merlin the Useless in the oh so painfully familiar voices.
The nurturing one that sang his nightmares away sang of disappointments. He was useless. Nothing but a burden to the people he loved. Another corrected her, for he was not a burden but a curse. The soft one that burned his heart with passion burned him with spite. He was a traitor. He readied his knife to sink into the backs of people who trusted him. The noble and the friend who supported him from the shadows jeered at him instead.
He caused nothing but destroy everything his loved ones accomplished. He was a blight to everyone he came into contact. He was nothing but the living, breathing reincarnation of misfortune. Even Iseldir recognized he could do nothing to help Camelot from Morgana. How did he possibly trick himself into believe such lies? He coul-
"-rlin! Merlin!" Arthur shouted, breaking through the miasma that enveloped the warlock into a panic. The warlock was wrenched from his thoughts, the shadows retreated, and the whisperings quieted. Merlin realized his breathes came out in quick gasps from his body natural response to hyperventilate in the ensuing panic. He forced himself to take deep, measured breathes before he opened his eyes and was face-to-face with a very worried King. Around him, still supporting him upright, Gwaine and Iseldir hovered over his shoulders; their face held the same fear.
"Emrys," Iseldir said, his voice measured as if trying not to upset the man further, "I'm sorry, bu-"
"How about we compromise in this, hmm?" Gwaine interrupted the druid with a glare. Whether the druid had not meant to upset the warlock, the knight didn't care. What he did care about was never seeing his friend in such a panicked state again. "Why don't you teach Merlin the incantation and let him try first; if he can't then you can have a go at it."
"That will work," Iseldir nodded, casting a wary glance at the warlock.
"And what's to stop you from using my magic before I try?" Merlin asked, bitterness inflected his speech as he glanced at his hands that rested on his lap.
"I can't take your magic without your permission. I can feed you the draught to open a channel into your power but if the gates are closed, nothing can go through."
"Will I be able to tell when you are going to use it?"
Iseldir nodded again, "It will feel as if something was tugging at you."
Merlin raised his head and met each worried pair of eyes before he released a sigh and nodded his head in agreement.
"Very well Emrys, I will instruct you the best I can on the incantation, but first," Iseldir reached out and touched one of the servant's shoulders gently and inspected the damage, "we need to take care of this."
Merlin gave a curt nod and allowed Iseldir with the help of Gwaine and Arthur to push the man gently down onto the cot so that he lay on his back and faced the ceiling. With quick directions to the two observers to hold the servant down, Iseldir began to pull the left arm away from Merlin's body, careful not to jolt it too much, as he straightened the limb out as far upwards as he could before he twisted it slightly so that that Merlin's wrist faced away from the druid. Then Iseldir placed his left hand against Merlin's collarbone, right next to shoulder joint, while his right hand firmly held the arm. Once in position, Iseldir gave the arm a tug upwards with one hand while he held the man down with the other. After a few seconds and a groan from Merlin, the shoulder popped back into the joint, forcing a gasp from the servant.
A thin sheen of sweat covered Merlin's brow. Though his shoulder still ached, the pain he had felt was a relief compared to before. Of course, he did not forget that Iseldir still had to relocate his other shoulder. While he took a moment to catch his breath, Iseldir took a few bandages and wrapped the shoulder. He then moved around the cot, to Merlin's other side, and pulled the other arm and with the same procedure as before, Iseldir popped Merlin's other arm back into its joint and bandaged it. With a nod to the others, they carefully sat him upright, which allowed him to create a makeshift sling that looped around the man's forearm and tied around each shoulder.
"You okay mate?" Gwaine asked while Iseldir continued to treat the worst of the gashes. He inspected the way Merlin shuddered at the pain and he feared the effects of the infection that had already spread through the carved dragon on his chest. The man's body was weak enough; it did not need to be subjugated to disease on top of everything else. Then again, he didn't believe his friend should be running around the castle in the middle of a war in his condition.
Merlin nodded mutely as he stared at his pale hands. From where they slung, a deep aching pain radiated form each shoulder. He could not feel much of anything past his elbow to his fingertips of his left arm; it scared him that he could not even twitch his fingers. His other arm, though not much better, seemed to have been in better conditions. The paralysis affected a good portion of his arm but a tingling sensations and pain spiked through his entire arm rather than the numbness he felt in his left. When he attempted to move his right hand, his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger all curled slightly, his other two remained paralyzed; even his wrist bent a bit, though the movements intensified the pain. He would have difficulty performing a complex incantation that required more hand movements to direct it than what his instinctual magic could do.
Iseldir took no notice, whether from being oblivious or out of respect, and continued to care for the wound on the servant's chest. Just as he tied off the ends of the wraps that encased Merlin's chest, Merlin spoke up.
"I'll be fine. I just need to learn that spell."
"Patience, Emrys. Let me care for the rest of your wounds."
"You have done enough. We don't have time to waste if we want to stop Morgana. We don't even know where the anchor is!"
"I-I know where it is." Mumbled a small voice from the back of the chambers, causing all four heads to turn to it direction. Standing on the steps to Merlin's small room, door opened, was a blonde girl. She must have hidden herself in there since the battle started; when the four entered the chambers, she was too afraid up until that moment to make her presence known.
Merlin recognized her immediately, "Alison?"
"You're the one she's looking for, aren't you? You're this Emrys?"
Merlin's steadfast gaze met hers, "Are you afraid of me?"
Alison glanced down, "No."
The servant gave the girl a smile while Arthur addressed her, "And you know where the anchor is? Can you show us?"
"More than that, Sire," the girl mumbled while she bowed to Arthur. Without lifting her head she continued, "I-I w-want to be of help. I even practiced some so I may do more than ease the pain!"
With that, the girl stumbled down the steps and rushed to the servant's side. Iseldir retreated from his ministrations at the girl's pleading eyes. With the same care as before, Alison slipped her hand against Merlin's side, directly above a particularly nasty laceration that started just above his navel and wrapped around to his back.
She took a deep breath, glanced at Merlin for approval, before she whispered, "Ic hæle þina þrowunga."
Her eyes glowed gold the moment she uttered the last syllable. Arthur and Gwaine watched in amazement, while Iseldir looked on with curiosity, as the edges of the skin stitched back together, leaving behind a thin white scar. Alison released her breath and admired her work before she looked up at Merlin with a smile.
"It worked," Alison said, part in surprise and part insecure by the magic.
"Good job, you've been practicing," Merlin mumbled as he too observed the newly healed wound.
"Yup! After I talked to you the other day, I wanted to be able to do more," Alison said. "I can't help my parents, at least not the way I was trying. Instead, I decided to practice my m-magic, learn what I can from these books here," she gestured to the haphazard stacks of tomes around the chambers. "I can't help the people already gone, only those who still needs help."
Merlin stared at her, speechless. Then he began to giggle which he tried and failed miserably to contain. Instead of stopping, the warlock broke down into full-blown laughter; the cheer shook his injured body and forced tears from his eyes. Still he couldn't help it for the girl experienced the same sentiments he had when they met. All around him, the others stared in confusion, wondering why the warlock had broken down into such an extreme mood swing.
"Merlin?" Arthur asked, unsure whether to worry for the man or smack him across the head for being an idiot.
"S-sorry!" Merlin gasped between giggles. "It's just, just don't worry about it."
"Idiot," Arthur muttered.
Merlin rolled his eyes, "Anyways, Alison, can you tell us where the anchor is so that we can end this?"
"Of course," the girl nodded as she reached her hand towards another wound, "I can lead you to the anchor."
"How do you know where to find it?"
"Well I assume it is the place that is more heavily guarded than you were."
"Fair enough," Merlin chuckled, "then Iseldir, can you teach me the incantation now?"
"Yes, Emrys," Iseldir said with a smile. For better or worse, things were finally falling into place.
AN: Jeez has it been a rough couple of weeks for me! I really needed to relax o,O So my version of relaxing is apparently writing xD I managed to get several things done, aside from getting this chapter edited and posted earlier than planned. First off I'm planning to get the next chapter edited early (I want to get it done by Thursday, before I have to get ready for summer classes). And second of all, news I am more than happy to say, is that this fic is officially completed in its rough draft form. It sits at a total of 17 chapters (so we are nearing an end :D). While I can't promise you faster updates just in case something happens (though I'll still try), I can promise there is an ending for this fic and you will get it no matter what ^^ Thank you everyone for your patience during the past month, and now that that's all over I hope pick up the pace in updating (my goal is to see this fic completed by the end of the month).
As always thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, I had a ton of fun reading and responding to them (I do try so very hard not to give spoilers when answering some of them xD). Also I can't forget everyone who favorite and followed! All of you guys are absolutely awesome!
For the next update, I'll try to get it posted by May 9th, if it's not posted on that date then expect it by May 13th.
And as always reviews and constructive criticism are always welcomed!