Hello everyone! Here is the chapter. It's nice and long for your wait, but probably the worst I've written. I guess you could say it's kinda like the "setting the stage" chapter, if you know what I mean!
We Might as Well be Strangers: Keane
The king raised his hand and the drums began to beat faster, the crowds still silent. Merlin watched with desperate eyes as a knight in a scarlet cloak lit a torch with flame, walking slowly towards the pyre.
Looking up, the warlock met Arthur's eyes. He was happy to see pain there, pain and uncertainty. Blue eyes locked together, and Merlin knew that the fear was plain in his own. He longed for Morgana to be there so he could see her face, one last time.
Lifting up the torch, the knight watched the warlock as he let the flames touch the wood.
Merlin closed his eyes.
He could feel the flames coming closer, feel the heat rising like the smoke that choked him. But still he screwed his eyes shut as the heat became uncomfortable, and then unbearable. Keeping himself from choking out, Merlin focused on scattering thoughts.
"Gwenivere Leodogrance, but most people call me Gwen. It's a pleasure meeting you, Merlin."
"Likewise."
"I didn't catch your name."
"Merlin, my lady."
"Thank you, Merlin."
She laughed out loud as he pulled her up and hoisted her in the air with the other dancers, her weight forgotten at the sight of her bright-eyed smile.
"A frog," Gwaine replied with a skilled poker face, looking the warlock up and down he elaborated further. "A frog whose just been stepped on."
The prince gasped, taking a moment to pull himself together before lunging at his friend, the two tackling each other in the lake.
Suddenly they were kissing. He didn't know if he had kissed her, or if she'd kissed him, all he knew was the feel of her lips pressed against his.
"Merlin, you can trust me."
Echoing voices in his head, as clear and vivid as the smoke that wafted around his skin, as the flames licking towards him.
Merlin, you can trust me.
Oh, how I wish I could, he thought softly. He smiled in the pile of burning wood as he thought of her, soft black hair, ruby red smile, and passionate gaze. Her face was the only one he memorized down to every detail, as though she was one of the poems Phillip recited when he was in a good mood. But now as he thought of her laughter, he could hear only the crackle of the flames and the wood beneath his feet. The gown she wore to the masquerade was engulfed in fire, and Merlin craned his head up towards the sky to try and keep the rest of her memories from burning away.
"Tospringe."
Merlin vaguely felt the chains on his wrists unlock as the gluttonous fire licked closer. Someone pulled him off the stake, shoving him off the pyre just as it was engulfed in flames. The courtyard was a wreck, the once silent onlookers now screaming and running away in terror from the scene.
Heavy on his feet, the warlock felt someone help him up and allow him to lean on them as they pulled him down a narrow street. He could hear the guards racing after them, but was too weak to do anything to deter their pursuit. His mind was still hazy from the smoke, and every now and again, he would double over coughing. Merlin looked upon the world like it was a dream, blurred at the edges, his senses dulled for still the only thing he smelt was the flames. Suddenly, he spotted a horse laden with goods. His rescuer lifted him up onto its back and jumped up in front of him, securing the warlock's hand around their waist.
"Ocius," a familiar voice muttered and the horse bolted forward, leaving the scarlet clad knights behind.
They raced down the cobblestone street, people diving to the side to avoid the horse's sharp hooves. The flags that once welcomed Gwen and Merlin to Camelot still waved in the breeze, their merry colors a harsh contrast to the screams that echoed down the city's streets.
"Onstyrian, onbregdan!" she screamed. The doors to the gate burst open, splinters showering over them as they raced past the guards that attempted to stand in their way.
Arrows whizzed past their ears, missing them by bare margins. But their luck couldn't last. The cloaked lady in front of him cried out in pain as an arrow buried into her shoulder, Merlin's steadying hand the only thing keeping her on the horse.
They couldn't stop.
Merlin didn't look back as they pulled past the long wheat fields and into the dark forest, the horse twisting the turning down the narrow spaces between the trees. Finally, the warlock risked a glance back at the knights following them, finding their numbers lessened. A branch cut his cheek as he put his hand up, gathering the little reserves of strength he had left.
"Forbearnen."
The trees behind them burst into flame, the pursuing horses prancing and bucking in terror. Merlin attempted to blink his eyes, the world was so fuzzy. But unconsciousness was too tempting, and leaning his head on the back of his rescuer. The warlock closed his eyes and the world turned black.
Merlin woke to a throbbing head ache and an incredibly dry throat. His eyes blinked slowly as he attempted to open them, every fiber of his being sore and exhausted. Eventually the cobalt irises focused, the warlock taking in the dark canopy over his head, small openings revealing the night sky above.
There were no stars.
He groaned and attempted to get up before a hand kept him down.
"Don't get up now, you're too weak. You've been out for two days."
The warlock didn't pay attention to the warning, violently jerking away from the soothing voice.
"Morgana."
Eyes a dark jade, the king's ward looked at him with an uncertain expression. She looked a mess. Ebony hair was tangled and fell roughly around her shoulders, soot bathing her skin, face pale. Wrapped up in a black cloak, she shifted under his gaze.
Merlin shook his head, rage and happiness roiling like drunken serpents in his gut. "What are you doing, Morgana?"
"Saving your life."
"After you condemned it?"
She looked away, guilt lining her features. Her voice came out in a soft whisper, and Merlin had to strain to hear her words. "I….I couldn't watch you die. After I left your cell that night, I lay in bed for hours. I thought I betrayed you for my family—Uther and Arthur. But when I thought of their faces to comfort me, I saw Gwen…and you. I realized that you are as much a part of my family now as Arthur and Uther, so I had to make a choice…I chose you. You don't know how much I regret everything I've done. "
Merlin looked down at his blackened hands, an involuntary shudder wracking his body as he remembered the heat of the flames as they had reached their arms out to burn him, to consume him alive.
"You know I can't trust you, not after what you've done."
"I know." A silver tear ran down her pale skin, leaving a trail of cleanliness in its wake. "And I know I can't ask you to forgive me, but please, Merlin. Believe me when I say I'll never sleep again for my guilt. I told Uther because I've been raised to think that duty comes first, not the heart. And I thought it was my duty to betray you, my promise to the man who has been my guardian and father. I now know how wrong I was, I know no apology is strong enough, and I know that the trust between us is broken—just know that I mourn it and will do my utmost to grow in your eyes once again. Even if it takes the rest of my days."
The warlock nodded, swallowing loudly as he took in her broken form. There was a war raging within him, a war between what he had been put through and what he wished with all his heart to be true.
"Thank you," he said softly after the silence became unbearable.
Morgana nodded, wincing slightly. Merlin's eyes widened and he moved towards her. Gently, he pulled off the cloak that hung from her shoulders, revealing the shaft of an arrow buried in her shoulder.
"I couldn't pull it out," she replied to his worried and questioning look.
Merlin nodded, reaching over and grabbing the water pouch nearby. He tore the bottom of his white shirt, setting the cloth on his lap. Gingerly, he put a hand on the wooden shaft. Morgana flinched at the touch, but closed her eyes and grit her teeth.
Her scream was short and ragged when Merlin pulled out the arrow as quick as he could, swiftly dousing the wound in water and pressing the makeshift bandages tightly on it.
"Ic haele pina browunga," he muttered, eyes glowing gold. Morgana sighed in relief as the pain ceased, the skin knitting back together.
Merlin gasped, suddenly dizzy. He swayed slightly in his kneeling position, Morgana helping him lie down. After a minute or two to control the pain, the warlock was overwhelmed with nausea. He moved up and vomited to the side, coughing raggedly. Her warm hand rubbed circles in his back as he shuddered, a pounding in his temple.
"You shouldn't have used magic, you're still too weak," she reprimanded, handing him the water pouch to clean his mouth.
"Since when did you become so knowledgeable about sorcery?" he snapped, wiping his lips and lying back down, hands over his eyes.
"From spending time with you—and I researched spells I'd need in the getaway last night. "
"That was quick."
"I'm a fast learner."
The two were quiet, and Merlin shivered in the darkness, wind blowing his thin, torn shirt. Morgana didn't miss the quiver, and moved next to him, wrapping them both in her cloak.
"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to pull away from her.
"We can't move till morning or we'll get lost, and seeing as you're so weak already, catching a fever in the cold won't do the both of us any good. Lighting a fire would be suicide with the knights on our tail, so you'll just have to deal with me here."
Merlin grunted, but remained stiff as she curled up at his side. But soon her even breaths and comforting warmth coaxed him to relax, and for a moment, he forgot all that had happened and knew only that this was Morgana pressed up against him. His eyes drooped and he let his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her closer against him to ward off the cold.
Falling asleep was far easier than it should have been under the circumstances.
A soft hand shaking his shoulder woke him the following morning.
"Merlin, we need to go."
The warlock stretched, moaning softly—shoulder burning. Opening his eyes, he watched Morgana finish securing the horse's saddle. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the canopy, illuminating the endless greens and browns of the forest around them.
"A hard day's ride and we should reach Glendale's border by nightfall," she told him, pulling out some dried fruits and handing them to the warlock.
Their sweetness made him even hungrier.
They mounted the horse quickly, and Morgana pushed it forward, a map in her hand. And so they traveled in silence, nerves on end, listening for the sound of the knights that were sure to be on their trail. Both sorcerers were weak, and so couldn't use magic to ease their journey.
Sometime near the evening, darkness drawing closer, they heard it.
The sound of hooves.
Morgana pushed Merlin off the horse, the warlock crashing with a painful thud. Using the knife she had hidden in her boot, the sorceress cut the strap securing the horses saddle, pulling it down quickly. She slapped the horses rear, sending it running into the dark trees, lifting the saddle into the bush that Merlin was hiding in—diving in next to him just as they could hear the snorts of other steeds.
So quiet, Morgana was painfully aware of how loud their breaths were, the steady snapping of branches warning the two fugitives of someone drawing near.
Under the leaves of the bush, they watched in horror as several horses stopped in front of them—how many they couldn't tell.
A thud.
Someone had dismounted, their black leather boots inches away from them.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
"There is no one here, Gwaine."
"I could have sworn I heard something."
Merlin cried out and leapt from the bush, smiling. "Gwaine!"
"Merlin!" the knight recovered from the startling and ran over to embrace the warlock tightly. "We heard rumors that the execution didn't go according to Uther's plan, but we couldn't be sure. I rode out to Camelot to see if they were true—and I'm happy now to know that they were. My only question is how you managed it, Gwen told us—"
"I had some help," the warlock said softly. Gwaine looked at him inquiringly, and Merlin turned, indicating with a hand.
Morgana got up hesitantly, making herself known to the seven knights of Glendale.
"You," Gwaine hissed, pulling out his sword and aiming it at her throat.
"Gwaine, don't—"
"Why, Merlin? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit her throat where she stands."
"She saved my life…"
"SHE'S THE REASON YOUR LIFE WAS ENDANGERED IN THE FIRST PLACE."
Merlin had difficulty swallowing. "Nonetheless, Morgana pulled me off that pyre and took me away from Camelot. If it wasn't for her, I'd be dead."
The knight growled, but reluctantly put down his sword, gaze still cold and biting. "If you give me any reason to doubt you, I will kill you without trial, is that understood?"
Morgana nodded, wide-eyed.
Gwaine turned back to his friend, looking him over. "You look terrible."
"That tends to happen when you nearly die and then become a fugitive in a dark forest."
"It must hurt, being so ugly."
"I thought you were happy to see me?"
"Only I can't see you past all that dirt."
"Touché."
The two grinned at each other, and Gwaine put a gentle hand around his friend's shoulder. But the joy soon faded and was replaced with a look of seriousness that did not happen often on the knight's face.
"We must hurry and get you home. Preparations of war have already started—and we're going to need all the help we can get."
"Morgana, daughter of Gorlois, you know why you have brought before this court."
"Yes, my lord."
"You confess guilty to betraying the Princess Gwenivere and Merlin, resulting nearly in the latter's death?"
"Yes, my lord."
The king sighed, looking down at the kneeling ward of his enemy. She still wore the torn dress that she had arrived in, hair pulled into a messy braid before the court.
"You have committed treason, and under the laws of Glendale you should be sentenced to death. However, my daughter has reminded me that it is you who saved Merlin and brought him here. Do you deny that?"
"No, my lord."
Glendale's king let out another sigh, rubbing his temple. The members of the court around them were silent, unsure of how to perceive the case before them. Gwen stood behind him, Merlin next to her, shoulder bandaged and cuts stitched. The king turned back to his daughter, walking slowly towards her. Gwen was stiff, conflicting feelings in her gut as she looked down upon the woman who had been her friend.
"The choice is yours," Thomas told his daughter softly.
"But, Father—"
"She was your friend and she betrayed you, then somehow she saved your friend. Her fate is in your hands. I cannot take it into mine."
The princess took a deep breath, nodding at her father and squaring her shoulders. She bore the air of authority as she walked towards the kneeling woman, her crimson dress trailing behind her. Looking down at Morgana, her heart began to beat faster.
Everyone was quiet, the thick silence as heavy as a shirt of mail. Then Gwen's voice filled the chamber, reverberating off the marble walls like those of the kings' of old.
"Morgana, you were my friend. But you decieved me, and you deceived the man you claimed to have loved."
The sorceress sucked in a breath, not meeting Gwen's eyes. Turning her head towards the sun that filtered in through the windows, Gwen's palm fisted her dress.
"Morgana, daughter of Gorlois, by the power vested in me, I choose not to carry out the death penalty."
Morgana looked up at her in shock, eyes wide.
"Though you betrayed me, you brought Merlin home. And now he is here, safe, something he wouldn't be had you not done this. He is safe, and that is all that matters. You will stay in the guest chambers that were once yours, and there you will stay. However, you will be watched, and your sentence can be changed. Should you show any signs of treachery...I will not be so merciful."
"Thank you, my lady," Morgana said with a quavering voice, heart beating quickly in her chest.
Gwen smiled. She gently extended a hand which the other girl gratefully took. "We were once friends, Morgana. And we can be again. Just prove to me that you are a sorceress, and not a Pendragon."
"I will not let you down, never again. I promise."
"Then go to physician and let him tend to your wounds."
Morgana brushed a strand of hair from her face, a small smile on her face, a tear sliding down her face. "Thank you, Gwenivere, for your forgiveness."
The princess looked at Merlin, who stood there, silent, impassive. She turned back at Morgana, "It is not only my forgiveness that you must earn."
Knights escorted the sorceress from the room, and the common nobles muttered between themselves as they slowly left the room.
Leaving behind the ministers of war.
Merlin went to join the civilians before the king's voice stopped him.
"No, Merlin. Your place is here."
The warlock turned to Gwen, who gave him a reassuring look, beckoning him towards the table the servants had lifted in. They stretched out large maps, detailed with the locations of mountains, forest, lakes, and valleys. Small pieces representing the kingdoms were placed on the worn parchment, as though it was a playing board for a game that children play.
And it was a game. A game of war, and here there be the corpses of children who once played games that looked like this.
"We are vastly outnumbered," the king began. "All the other kingdoms will fight for Camelot, all except Cenred, and he's told me already that he has no interest in helping us. This has been planned from the start so all the armies will be mobilizing as we speak. There's no doubt that Uther will set the battle up on the vast plains of Camland. It's barely a day's ride away from here, which puts us at a disadvantage."
"We can't pull the battles somewhere else?" a man with a dark beard asked stiffly. "Draw them out to a place that puts us at the advantage?"
"No. Camland is the quickest way to Glendale, and reaching our citadel is their goal. Lot's kingdom is the nearest to the plain. His men are probably there already. Uther's and the others will join them soon, perhaps in a few days' time, I don't know. How long they have been preparing I'm not sure. We'll have to march for the plain in three days time if we are to stop them from getting any closer."
The king sighed, running a hand over his head. "We are vastly outnumbered," he repeated. "We barely stood a chance against Uther's army alone, but against the combined force of the other kingdoms—the war will be over before it's begun."
Silent, the onlookers looked at the map grimly. Merlin's eyes suddenly widened, and he turned to the king.
"If I may, my lord, I have a suggestion."
"Speak."
"We need allies. Why don't we call on the druids?"
"The druids? They are a peaceful people, they won't fight," a heavy-set general spoke, his voice deep.
"They will. This is the war that decides whether magic will be allowed to live on in the kingdoms. Right?" The room was quiet as he spoke, and as Merlin continued, confidence began to build within him in this hall of hardened men and women. "These armies fight under Uther's banner, and he fights against the Old Religion. The druids are a peaceful people, but if we lose, they will be hunted down and slaughtered. The outcome of these battles will write the future of those of us with magic. They will fight."
"Even if they would, the druids have no love for me. They won't answer my call for war," the king of Glendale said bitterly.
"But they will answer mine. In their tongue, I'm known as Emrys. I've spent some time with them. I saved some of their men from the Mine, and in return, they healed me. They know me. If I ask it, they will ride in my name, and so they will ride under your banner."
The king nodded in contemplation, looking up at the knights standing at the door. "Dispatch riders for Locksley Forests immediately. Tell them that Emrys calls them to war."
A knight nodded, opening the door and disappearing down the corridor.
For the rest of the afternoon, they spoke of mobilizing the troops, war tactics and supplies, and finally the king dismissed them after the sun had set. As the men left the room, Merlin turned with Gwen to leave, but the king's call stopped him once again.
"Merlin, stay."
The warlock walked back to the king, cringing at the sound of sharply closing doors behind him.
"I'm sorry, my lord, if I spoke out of turn—"
"No, you're right. Should the druids fight, they would be invaluable. With them we have a chance against Uther's hordes…but we still do have a problem."
"What, sire?"
"Like you said before, the druids will not fight for me, they will fight for you. And so I ask you now to take the job of General."
"Me? General?" Merlin replied, shocked. "My lord, I'm the wrong person. I know nothing of war—"
"Then it's time you learn. You are the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived. Don't think I haven't been watching your progress since the first day you arrived here. I'm sorry, boy, but you've been born into this role. If the druids will fight for you then let them. They will be your soldiers, and they will fight under your name."
"My lord—"
"You said it before; this war decides the future of magic. Merlin, you are a son of the Old Religion, so it falls to you to lead your people."
Merlin nodded, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Thank you, my lord. This is indeed a great honor. I will not fail you."
"Good."
The warlock bowed low and walked from the room, running back up to Gaius's chambers where his guardian and friend were waiting.
"I've been named General," Merlin said in reply to their questioning looks, but they didn't look surprised.
"You deserve the role, "Gwen told him softly.
"I've never fought a war before-"
"Yes you have, my boy," Gauis interrupted, putting a hand on his ward's shoulder. "You've been fighting in a war for magic since you were born, the only difference is this time you will be wearing armor."
Merlin collapsed down on a wooden bench, putting his head in his hands. He was quiet. Finally, he spoke. "Even if I lead the druids into war, they won't be enough. We need all the help we can get, but we have nowhere left to turn."
"We do," Gaius replied.
The two young people looked up at him, uncertainty lining their features.
"Who?" the princess asked.
"The dragons."
Merlin laughed. "The dragons? You think the dragons will help us? Last time I spoke to a dragon he told me he'd kill me if he was to see me again."
"But he didn't."
"I don't follow."
"Kilgarrah didn't kill you because he couldn't-you are a dragonlord, Merlin."
"Sorry, come again?"
"You know who the dragonlords are—you've learned of them in your studies."
"Yes, I know who they were, but the dragonlords are dead."
"You are the last."
Merlin stood up, anger rising to the surface. "I'm sorry. Since when did I become a dragonlord, and what makes you think that?"
"I didn't know until this afternoon." The physician walked to where a book lay open on a table nearby. "While you were at the war council, I got to thinking of what we could do to even the playing field. Then I remembered the dragons. I went to the library where a friend of mine keeps all the records—among them those of the dragonlords. During the Great Purge, they were hunted and slaughtered, all for one, Balinor. I helped him disappear along with the Great Dragon, and the next I heard from him was years later when a friend of his informed me of his death. As I looked at the records, I realized that Balinor had once lived in Cenred's kingdom, near Ealdor. When he escaped, he told me he would return home."
"So what?"
"Your magic. People are rarely just 'born' with magic; it's a trait that is passed down by blood. You've told me your mother has no magical ability, and that she raised you alone, your father having disappeared before you were born. It makes sense. Balinor must have run into Ealdor in his travels and met your mother, then continued when he realized it was too dangerous for him to stay with her."
"Fine. Let's say that there is a chance out of a million that I'm Balinor's son—then why couldn't I command the dragon when I spoke with him?"
"You didn't know-you couldn't have known how to call on to that bond you share with the dragons. And didn't that druid tell you that you are more akin to dragons than you are to humans?"
"That's because I'm a warlock, not a dragonlord—"
"What if you're both?" Gaius walked towards him, voice soft. "I know it's a slim chance, but there's no harm in trying."
Merlin was quiet. He then breathed out.
"What must I do?"
"This is ridiculous." Merlin said with a groan as they climbed to the roof.
"Just try."
"What, so just calling out will summon them?"
"You need to speak with the language you share with them."
"But I don't know that language!"
"Yes, you do, it's there. Deep down inside of you. Just call it forward," Gaius told him. Gwen and her father stood behind him, Merlin near the edge of the rooftop.
The warlock shook his head but closed his eyes, focusing.
"Dragons I summon you here before us!" he called out.
Silence.
"You're the last dragonlord now. You alone carry the ancient gift. Deep within yourself, you must find the voice that you and the dragons share. For your soul, and theirs, are family. When you speak to them as kin, they must obey your will. "
Breathing out, the warlock clenched and unclenched his palms. He coaxed his magic out to help him, small tendrils of gold slipping into his blue eyes. He felt a swell of power in his chest, a new yet vaguely familiar sensation that he couldn't describe, for there were no words spoken by the throats of men that could.
"O drakons, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes."
The three onlookers took a step back upon hearing the strange deep sounds that lilted off the warlock's tongue, but nothing remarkable happened.
It was quiet.
A small breeze.
Gaius sighed quietly in disappointment, walking slowly towards Merlin.
"I'm so sorry," the warlock whispered dejectedly.
"It's not your fault, my boy. We'll think of something else…"
"Merlin!" Gwen called out.
The boy and guardian turned to the sky, shivers coursing through their bodies. Through the silence they could hear the great thundering of wings. Beneath the silvery moonlight, large shapes plunged from the clouds. Dark, ominous, silent except for the wind that betrayed them. Those down in the streets below looked up at the creatures up above, screams reaching the ears of those standing at the rooftop.
Six dragons settled down on the turrets of the castle, tails wrapping around the great stone perimeters, scales like liquid silver from the light of the moon.
Then even the moon went dark.
A seventh dragon, the greatest of them all, with familiar golden scales and a wingspan to swallow the sun crashed down upon the rooftop, looking at the four humans with eyes the color of molten lava. Kilgarrah was silent. Then, slowly, the great creature bowed its head towards the warlock. Similarly, the dragons followed his example, inclining towards the wide-eyed boy.
"I know why you have summoned us, dragonlord, but know that we will not do as you please,'" Kilgarrah spoke with a voice like ice, eyes narrowed at the man before him.
"Won't you?" Merlin challenged. "You forget that you are under my command."
"Dragonlords should know better than to abuse their powers—"
"Well I don't know much about being a dragonlord, do I? Considering that you didn't tell me of this gift when I first met you. Have you forgotten, Kilgarrah, that my father helped save your life?"
"No."
"Then why do you treat me in such a manner?"
"When your father died, we realized that his son would bear the same gift. But in the years our race has grown tired of the control you dragonlords wield, and so we hoped that you would never learn of your identity, and the days of the lords would be over. It seems though, that we were mistaken."
"Enough talk of days past and dreams failed. You know what I want. You know what is at stake."
"We will not fight in your war."
"Why? This war determines the survival of the Old Religion in this world. Should we fail, Uther will be relentless in his hunting of you. He'll purge the dragons from the earth, and in that hour you'll find that there will be no sorcerers with the power to help you."
"It matters not. We are not pets to be summoned, and we will not obeisance to the race of man."
"VAI SE CURVAR A MIN." you will bow to me
Kilgarrah stepped back, bowing low to the warlock before him. Merlin regarded him with a marble gaze.
"When I first met you, I saw nothing but a creature filled with greed. But you were also a creature frightened and lost." He now moved his gaze to envelope all of the dragons, silent as they perched on the battlements. "Soon there will be no corners in the world to flee to, no shadows left in which to disguise yourselves. Perhaps, someday, there will be an age where dragons are forgotten, passed into legends, but it is not this day. Fight for us, Iztapt."please
The dragon looked at Merlin curiously, then at his brethren, golden eyes drooping and shoulders sagging as though letting out a sigh.
"Young warlock, you are brave to have summoned us here. Perhaps you are right. For many years we have suffered in the lonely dark, fearing for our lives and those of our kin. We were a proud race, once. We shall be again. We will fight."
This time, it was Merlin who bowed to the creature before him, low and humble. "Thank you, Great Dragon. We ride for Camland the dawn of the second day."
Soldiers saddled their horses in the courtyards down below, people beginning to line the streets to bid their fathers and sons a final farewell. Gwen was to assume control of the city while her father was gone, Gaius to ride with the army and act as physician. News from the druids had come swiftly, and the sorcerers had answered the call to war, riding now for Camland to fight under the name of their prophesized leader.
As for Merlin, the days had been a blur of tactics and fittings. Edwin, Phillip, Surevres, and Gaius had become his advisors, and they strategized long into the hours of the night. The dragons had arrived in Camland and waited now for the arrival of their dragonlord.
The pieces were set.
Merlin awoke the dawn of the second day feeling exhausted and anxious. It had been yet another sleepless night, haunted again by dreams of Morgana. He hadn't seen her the last few days, pointedly avoiding her—he couldn't afford the feelings she gave him now.
Getting dressed, he quickly saddled his horse before walking back into the citadel and towards Gwen, who waited for him in a long crimson dress.
"Princess."
"The men are ready?"
"They prepare their horses now."
"That's good news, general."
The pair was silent for a moment, and Gwen approached him stiffly.
"Are you ready?"
"No." Merlin shook his head. "I'm going mad in these tales of dungeons and dragons. Their twisted happenings are not only changing me, but turning me into something I never thought I could be."
"What?"
"A murderer."
"You're not a—"
"But I will be," he said bitterly. "What sights shall I face on the battlefield? Whose blood shall stain these hands? Was this the true purpose of my magic, to call innocents together to fight one another? Ever since I arrived in Glendale, I've been taught, and done my utmost to prove that my magic was a force for good. But where is the good in it when it is used to rip a man's soul from his body? My magic has turned me into a general, a warrior, and soon a murderer. I wonder now if Uther was right, because magic has corrupted me. It's turned me from an awkward, gangly idiot into the most feared man in the seven kingdoms. I'm so sorry, Gwen. I don't know where your magical farmboy has gone. It seems he is yet another casualty in this world bathed in blood."
Gwenivere reached over and embraced him, whispering softly in his ear. "That farmboy is not gone." She put a light hand over his heart, feeling it beat beneath her fingertips. "He's here. Deep down, hiding. He's been captured, beaten, whipped, burned, hated, feared, and betrayed. He's mangled and broken and so, so afraid. But he's still here. Perhaps someday we can coax him back. Until then, though, you have to be brave and you must have faith that a new age draws near, one of peace, love, and magic. But we need to fight for it if it's ever to come. Have faith, Merlin. The sun will rise someday on a world where the blood has washed away…Besides, you're still an idiot to me. "
Merlin looked down, a small smile lining his features. Suddenly, he reached for his neck and pulled off her necklace, the ring warm in his palm as he handed it out to her.
"I forgot to return this to you."
She gently closed his palm and moved it to rest above his heart.
"It has protected you once before, and I hope it'll do so again. Keep it."
A knight appeared down the corridor. "Sir, we're ready to leave."
"Thank you, I'll be there in a moment. Tell the men to mount their horses."
Gwen looked up at him, and tears started to flow from her eyes.
"Be safe, Merlin. Come home. Promise me," she choked, flinging her arms around his neck, her words and grip desperate.
"I promise," he whispered, holding her tightly and burying his face in her shoulder.
"Sir, we need to leave now."
Merlin pulled himself away from her, wiping the tears from her skin.
"You will be the greatest queen this land has ever known, and I'm so proud to have played a role in your life. Goodbye, Gwenivere."
And with that, he was gone down the corridor, out of sight.
The princess walked swiftly after him, standing at the foot of the stairs. Merlin had mounted his horse and moved now to join the other commanders riding near the king. Her voice rang clear as she addressed the soldiers before her, a soft wind blowing the flags they held up on rods of steel.
"Say goodbye now to your loved ones, and know that though you ride now for battle, you will always return. If not in body you will return in song. All will be heroes, and all shall go down in history. For tonight you ride to right a wrong, and to defend that which is threatened. Your home, your family, your kingdom, salutes you knights of Glendale. Ride now to a red dawn filled with the sounds of thundering hooves, cloven shields, and sharpening blades. You will dance to the twang of the bowstrings, the hum of the spear as it soars through the winds that will be yours to command. Ride now with dragons, sorcerers, and men. Know that you are equal. Soldiers we salute you, and we will meet again. Ride now for Camland, ride now for Glendale!"
The soldiers bashed their shields, drumming them in sync with their march. Slowly, the horses made their way out the courtyard and passed the crowds that lined the streets, beneath waving banners and among offered flowers. Roses rained from the balconies and many warriors caught them as they drifted towards the ground, tucking them into the spaces in their chainmail.
Deep within their caves, the fates watched with eager eyes. Withered fingers prepared the strings to cut with rusted knives. They called upon the reapers that stood silently nearby, sending them to the vast plain. Only they knew who would die on the bloodstained grass of Camland.
And there was no turning back now.
GAAAHHHH IT'S TERRIBLENESS MAKES ME SHUDDER. God, it reads just like mozzarella cheese, I promise this is the worst chapter I'll ever right (sobs in embarrassment) I just needed to finish setting the stage for the war.
Figured that I'd put in the warnings now so that it doesn't ruin the mood when I start posting the next chapters. They won't be too bad, I think, nothing like the Mine or the branding, but it is still war. So yes, warning for violence. From now on the chapters will be more fast paced, and I hope you guys won't tire of them! Sorry I couldn't do something more exciting for this chapter, but some things just have to be done to make the story read better as a whole.
I watched the finale. Wish I didn't, but I did. So if anyone wants to fangirl, you may, so long as before your review you just write SPOILER in big letters so no one sees it who doesn't want to.
By the way I am ecstatic about the reviews! 18 ALONE IN THE LAST CHAPTER! GAHHHHH IT'S AMAZING! I hope you lot continue to drop by, I enjoy reading what you have to say!
Again, apologies that the chapter was not up to standard, it won't happen again (I hope)
Gosh, I'm still embarrassed, ignore me.
Until we meet again my lovelies!