Hello, tonight's the night before my trip to Nepal (mini-scream) and since I finished packing early I thought I'd post this chapter. Chances are you won't be getting another chapter for two weeks I think, it'll depend how fast I can get back to writing after the trip!
Hardest of Hearts: Florence + the Machine
Warning: Violence and (Chaz, I hope you're pleased)
I hope you like it!
"Focus."
"I am focusing!"
"Not hard enough."
"I'm going to kill you," Morgana growled, eyes furrowed in concentration.
"To do that you'll have to focus!" Merlin replied in a sing-song voice, but the smile disappeared as he was blasted across the clearing.
Morgana walked towards him with a smirk, hips swaying ever so slightly.
"How's that for—"
"Again," he leapt to his feet and brushed down his clothes.
The sorceress scowled and threw him a sword instead, the warlock catching it clumsily.
"I've done my practice, time for yours. You are still a horrid swordfighter, Merlin, despite the fact that you've been fighting in a war." She lunged and he sidestepped, replying with his own strike which she parried unflinchingly. "If you're to obtain any serious injury it will be at the tip of a sword."
"That's not true, we've seen how dangerous arrows can be. And I have an equal chance of being kababed with a spear, cleaved in two by an axe, getting my head sheared off by a mace-" Their blades locked and they were, for a moment, impossibly close -so close that Morgana could count his eyelashes. "…Or I could be finished off by a kiss from a beautiful girl."
Morgana smiled, lifted her knee, and hit him in the groin. Merlin fell to his knees spluttering, face red.
"I've told you time and time and time again never to get distracted by your opponent, but you seem to cling to this habit of not listening to me." She knelt down and looked at him, his eyes screwed shut in pain. "Enough for one day?"
He nodded with a squeak and Morgana laughed, putting a finger on his forehead and tipping him back. Merlin fell onto the wet ground without a sound, eyes still closed. After getting over her giggles, worry creased Morgana's skin.
"Come on, Merlin, I didn't hit you that hard," she leaned over him, worry widening her eyes. "Merlin?"
"Gotcha."
He pushed himself up and kissed her, pulling her down into the mud beside him. They tackled each other for a minute before he gained the upper-hand, pinning her arms above her head.
"What was that about not getting distracted by your opponent?"
"Seriously, Merlin, now I'm covered in mud—"
"Whatever, I win."
"Ehm."
Merlin scrambled off Morgana and got to his feet at Surevres's cough, the two young people straightening their backs and attempting to look official—failing miserably. Their hair was tussled, clothes dripping with mud, faces red from the chill air.
"The king wishes to see you both immediately."
The pair cast each other a look and rushed to follow Surevres to the large white tent. Inside they found the three other generals with Gaius, Edwin, and Phillip. The king himself was looking over a map spread out on a table, face drawn.
"My lord," Merlin and Morgana bowed their heads, Merlin scowling at Edwin's smile due to their appearance. "I'm sorry, my lord, we were training—"
"A great host has left Camelot's camp."
"A great host?"
"The whole camp is emptied." The tent grew dead silent, smiles disappearing. "They will be on us in two days, maybe less."
Morgana spoke, voice barely over a whisper, but still it sounded impossibly loud in the still tent. "This….this is a tactic Uther uses when he tires of battles and wishes to end the war. He sends his men to the enemy and orders them to keep fighting. They won't retreat, they won't rest. Not until they reach the citadel."
"But the casualties they'd suffer—" Merlin questioned, but Morgana's swift reply cut him off.
"Uther doesn't care for the lives of his soldiers. By now he thinks that we are weak enough that we won't be able to hold off his army. It's a ripe time for him to attack."
"What are the chances?" the king asked quietly, sitting down heavily and putting his face in his hands.
Morgana hesitated before answering. "This tactic has not failed him yet."
Everyone in the tent breathed out, slowly allowing the realization of their predicament to wash over them like the impending tide. It was Merlin who finally spoke, voice calm.
"We should take the wounded back to the citadel, clear the camp. If we cannot stop them the least we can do is buy Gwen time to ready the city's defenses, get the people inside the citadel. We stand a better chance fighting at the castle—a siege on the citadel would wear Uther's men out. He would eventually have to call them off to rest."
"But then we would be trapped, there would be nowhere to go—"
"We don't have a choice," the king interrupted Surevres, straightening his back. "Tell every able-bodied man that we ride tomorrow at dawn, better put as much distance between the citadel as possible. Gaius, Phillip, empty the hospitals and have the dragons help you carry the wounded back to the citadel. It would be better, too, if the healers went with them. There will be no more need for them here." The king looked at everyone in the room. "We'll fight as one tomorrow, as one army. Druids and knights together as equals. Now rest, all of you, I expect you all to be seated beside me at the victory feast. I will see you tomorrow at dawn."
"Mordred."
The young druid turned around, face lighting up at the sight of the warlock behind him.
" Emrys."
"May I ask you a favor?"
"You saved my life a month ago-I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You know you can ask anything of me."
Merlin handed the druid a letter, smiling softly at the boy's confused look. "I want you to give this to my mother, she lives in Ealdor. Her name is Hunith. The road should be clear so you'll have no problems."
Mordred looked up at him with wide eyes. "You're sending me away…"
"Yes."
"But I want to fight—"
"There will be a time for that, but I couldn't bear it if you got hurt. You're still so young; you have a life ahead of you. Go, fall in love, live. If the battle should go ill, then at least you'll be left to lead those remaining."
"But, Emrys—"
"Mordred," the warlock smiled at the younger boy. "Please."
The druid was silent for a moment before embracing the older man tightly, eyes glazed over. "Take care of Morgana."
"You know I will."
Merlin stretched inside his tent, relishing the feeling of his soft tunic on his skin. He'd taken a quick bath, washing away the mud and grime of the day's excursions. Now he stood in the middle of the cloth-covered structure that had been his home for many months—tonight would be his last night there.
He didn't know what to do.
How do you sleep the night before a battle that may be your last? How do you sleep when you know hundreds march towards you, outnumbering you, coming with the sole purpose of spilling your blood and leaving your body to the vultures that will fly overhead?
Merlin walked over to his bedside table where Morgana's poetry book rested. It had been a month since the day at the battlefield, a month since his closest brush with dead. By now he and the Keeper of the Gate between the worlds should be great friends. He'd been reading the tome every night before he slept, and though he'd long since finished, he reread the poems Morgana marked as her favorites. He could almost find pieces of her buried in her favorite passages, as though the words had somehow pulled a part of her inside their ink.
The warlock lifted the book and lay back down on his cot, resting his head on the pillow and skimming through the pages, trying to ignore the sounds of the healers that were packing their things and traveling away, leaving the soldiers behind. He opened to one of the marked pages, reading the words, matched with beautiful images that stretched in and out of the penned letters.
As she fled fast thro' sun and shade,
The happy winds upon her play'd,
Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd
The rein with dainty finger-tips,
A man had given all other bliss,
And all his worldly worth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips.
"Merlin?"
He looked up to see Morgana at the door of his tent, looking hesitant.
"Morgana, come in," Merlin sat up, watching her as she came to sit next to him at the edge of the bed, their legs just barely touching. "It's late, what are you doing here?"
"I tried to sleep but all I saw were nightmares, even before I had fallen unconscious. I don't want to see this battle before it happens, I don't think I could bear seeing something terrible and knowing nothing I could do would prevent it."
The warlock nodded, looking at her intently. Reaching over, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, pushing it back behind her ear. She leaned in and placed a head on his shoulder, his own resting on top of hers. They stayed like that, in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's company.
"I'm afraid, Merlin."
"I never thought I'd hear those words pass your lips."
"Tomorrow we'll be fighting the last battle here on Camlann, and when the army is pushed back to the citadel, whether we defend it or not will decide the fate of magic. If Uther wins...I don't know what I'd do. "
"You have nothing to worry about if Uther wins, you'll be safe—"
"He'd kill me without a second thought -his ward, the sorceress."
"Despite all the terrible things he has done, I don't think he could kill you. He practically raised you."
"You don't know him."
"Perhaps, but I know enough about the bond between a guardian and their child to know that he would forgive you in a heartbeat, no matter what you did. If Uther does win, you'll be there to see it through, and perhaps you'll even be there to avenge Glendale when the time is right."
"Can you ensure that I will survive that long?"
"Yes," he replied, kissing the top of her head gently. "I won't let anything happen to you."
"Nor I you."
Merlin smiled. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of a target."
Morgana pulled back and looked at him, pulling him into an embrace, holding onto him tightly. "You'll be fine. We'll be fine."
When she moved back their noses brushed, faces touching for a moment. Their lips met softly, dry and chaste for a moment. Tentative and innocent, but the kiss grew wetter and more passionate as their arms wrapped around each other. Merlin's hand skimmed down Morgana's spine, her own hand gripping the front of his tunic tightly as she prompted him to deepen the kiss.
He bit her bottom lip gently and she shuddered, hand moving to bury itself in his still damp hair. Merlin's lips moved, tracing down her jaw and down her neck, pressing warm, feather-soft kisses over her pale skin, lingering where he could feel her pulse. Her other hand was not idle, moving to skim beneath his shirt as she reached upwards, his skin searing hot to her fingertips. Sliding up against him, Morgana felt Merlin shake under her hand, and his lips moved to draw over her collarbone.
She lifted his chin up, missing the feeling of his warm lips on her own, and Morgana leaned in and closed the gap between them, mouths opening as they shared the air from their lungs. Suddenly, she wanted him, more then she had ever wanted anything, or anyone—a kind of desperation or unquenchable thirst. Morgana reached down and pulled at his tunic, and he lifted his arms, allowing her to pull the shirt off his head. Her fingertips traced the muscles in his arms, the scars that littered his pale skin, looking darker in the light of the few candles that illuminated the small space. As her hand reached the brand on his shoulder, Morgana hesitated, racked with guilt for a moment. Sensing her discomfort, Merlin distracted her, deepening the kiss between them, gliding his teeth over her lips, sending shivers down her spine.
His hands moved to the back of her dress, running over the ribbons, undoing them quickly as Morgana's fingers began to skim just under his belt, prompting goosebumps wherever her soft touch landed. She helped him push the green dress off her shoulders, leaving her in a thin white shift, almost sheer in the lighting. Merlin's hands ran down her sides, his touch setting her on fire wherever he caressed, burning her through the flimsy fabric. He lifted her up gently, pulling her onto the bed, hovering over her and caressing the soft skin of her bared shoulder with his lips where the strap of her shift had fallen.
Gently, his hands glided over her breasts, and she gasped. He covered her lips with his own and his tongue prompted her mouth open, her breath unbearably sweet. She broke the kiss this time, moving to nibble at his jawline and neck. Morgana moved her hand around him, running her fingers over his shoulder blades and down his spine, moving then to his side where she began to play with his belt, toying in and out his trousers. Suddenly bold, she reached out and touched him through the fabric, and he moaned above her in response. But as much as it set them both aflame, it seemed to pull the warlock out of the haze, and he pulled back.
"Morgana, what are we doing?"
"Merlin—"
"We can't go so far."
"Tonight might be our last night—"
He silenced her with a hard kiss, and her arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck, keeping him from pulling away.
"Tomorrow won't be our last day, and tonight is surely not our last night."
"And if it is?"
"Then it is."
Merlin reluctantly untangled himself from her, propping himself on his elbow as he looked down at where she lay beside him, hair raven black, long and surrounding her head like a halo. Skin pale but reddened where he had kissed it, lips swollen and eyes lidded.
"I love you, Morgana. I don't want this to be the night—"
"And I love you, Merlin. What are you waiting for? Our lives are as unpredictable as it is—"
"Hey." He kissed her chastely, smiling when he pulled away after she attempted to deepen the kiss. "Give me something to live for."
"Fine," she propped herself on her elbow, eyes twinkling in the dim light. "When this war is over, promise that we can be together, totally and completely. I want you to trust me as much as I trust you—with everything."
"Promise."
"I plan to keep you to that oath—"
"And I plan on fulfilling it," he said with a smile, leaning in and kissing her again.
"Then we have struck a bargain."
Morgana moved in and lay on his shoulder, lying on her stomach, arms wrapped around his chest. He kissed her head gently and rubbed her back, fingers moving up and down. What did I ever do to deserve her?he thought as she sighed, nuzzling against his skin and breathing him in. Merlin reached over and covered them both with the blanket that had been pushed aside, and enjoying the feeling of her warmth pressed up against his chest, legs intertwined. They stayed like that until dawn, listening to the others breath and heartbeat, never quite falling asleep.
To kill him you must render his magic useless. Without it he's just another man. You cannot fail me.
Arthur shook his head, eyes focused ahead of him, his father's voice whispering in his head. He road forward, at the front of a vast host, covered in shining chainmail and a thick red cloak emblazoned with the emblem of a kingdom that might someday be his. But he felt naked. Bare and unsure as the leader of a numberless army, and though it might be his nerves playing with him, images of Gwenivere slipped in his mind. Gwenivere, Merlin, Morgana laughing. Somehow they had ended up at the opposite sides of the chessboard, and he knew it was his fault.
You cannot fail me.
He approached the gorge Morgana had torn into the earth a month before. Since that day the armies had fought with arrows and spears flung over the empty space, all the while Camelot's army prepared bridges to close the gap. As his army approached, Arthur saw that Glendale's force was waiting for them.
Their whole army had arrived, but still they seemed pathetically small in number. Arthur was surprised to see the king riding at the front, beside him his generals and advisers. And of course, Merlin and Morgana rode side by side, the warlock riding an ash gray horse, the sorceress a brilliant white steed.
"Arthur, give it back!" She squealed, jumping up and down, but still he raised his hand higher.
"Take it from me, come on, Morgana!"
"She's mine, Arthur! Boy's don't play with dolls."
"But she's very pretty, what if I want her now?"
"Arthur!"
The prince blinked back the memory, watching with narrowed eyes as Merlin and Morgana dismounted, walking over to the edge of the gorge. They knelt before the edge, a length away from each other. They were a frightening sight -Arthur had never seen them fight together before. Morgana wore leather armor, black and tight against her skin. Merlin was dressed similarly, both wrapped in black cloaks, armor plating their shoulders. He could feel his men behind him stir at the sight of them together, the most powerful sorcerers in the seven kingdoms before them. Pale skin stood out shockingly with raven hair, lithe frames exuding a power that all could feel, as though their magic was playing off the others, electrifying the air.
"Brace yourselves!" Arthur shouted as the pair began chanting lilting words.
Their words rose in volume and power, seemingly echoing around them from every corner of the vast plain, distorted and strange. Then, all of a sudden, their palms hit the ground and the earth began to shake. The gorge began to close shut, but from the empty space leapt great creatures. Beasts forged by the breath of the Old Religion, hide made from shifting rock, molten lava dripping from their mouths as they roared out of nightmares and into reality. Their heads were those of a goat with two curled horns as sharp as swords, but slowly the head turned into the body of a lion whose fur shifted and stirred as though forces were battling beneath its skin. The forelegs were that of an eagle, talons black and cruel, the hindlegs that of a horse. Its tail shifted into the body of a snake, scaled emerald and blue, laced with golden flame, ending in a large head that hissed and spat venom. As the creatures raised their heads, men screamed as faces appeared from the base of their throats, a third face of a lion that roared with blood red eyes.
They had called upon the last of the morticoms, creatures King Uther had trapped deep within the caverns of the earth.
Until now.
"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!" the prince shouted, unsheathing his sword and spurring his steed forward. Moved by their commander's strength, the knights followed him.
Merlin and Morgana still kneeling on the ground, eyes blazing gold, the rest of Glendale's army surged forward as the gorge was sealed shut with a thundering boom. The morticoms sped before them, impossibly fast as they slammed into Camelot's front line.
Merlin caught his breath, turning to look at Morgana as he shuddered with the power that painted his veins gold. Before they rose, the pair chanted out again, voices rising over the din of battle. A great wind filled the plain, howling with the screams and roars of war. Lightening clapped overhead, hitting the scarlet army and turning dozens into ash, leaving craters in the once barren plain.
The sorcerers rose to their feet and mounted their horses, spurring them so that they raced into the battle side by side, eyes burning.
"Forbearne!" Morgana screamed, and spears flying towards them turned to dust. Merlin raised his palm, vaporous blue enveloping the battlefield every time Arthur let loose streams of arrows into the air.
The warlock's horse fell on its knees with a screech as one of its forelegs was hacked off, and Merlin tumbled on the bloody ground. Quickly, he leapt of his feet and kicked his nearest attacker in the chest, sword already dripping rubies. He ripped off his cloak and raced forward with the other foot-soldiers as Morgana rode beside him, her blade felling the riders that attempted to trample the knights and druids on the ground.
"Arthur!"
The prince fell to the earth at Percival's warning cry, a morticom leaping over him. It turned around, hooves and claws skidding across the bloodied field as it turned back to him.
"TO ME!"
Nearby knights quickly moved into a shield formation as the creature attacked again. The snake head hovered them, and striking the covering shields in an attempt to tear the throat of a soldier. Its attacks left gaping dents in the iron, and as it came close Arthur lowered his shield and sheared the head off with a single fluid motion.
The remaining two heads screamed in agony as the third fell to the ground, still writhing until a nearby soldier hacked it to pieces. Gold blood dripped down Arthur's skin and armor, cold determination written on his face as he roared an order to the available archers. Shafts collectively peppered the creature's skin, and its screeches deafened those nearby until the prince slid beneath it, stabbing it below where its heart beat. Emerging covered in shimmering gold, burns riddling his bare skin, Arthur rose to his feet as the morticom fell dead behind him.
Raging for hours, sweat cleaned Merlin's face from blood as he continued to press with Glendale's soldiers. The last morticoms were weakening, their dead brethren's blood melding into the scarlet that wounded and slaughtered knights left behind.
Day turned to night, fires leaping into the midnight sky as the armies remained locked tight, but Merlin began to feel them getting pushed back. He'd lost sight of Morgana in the din, but every so often he could feel her magic mingling with his own, a reminder that she was still alive and fighting.
He turned his head at the sound of a scream, watching in horror as a druid boy was decapitated before his eyes. Merlin's eyes blazed gold and the men around the body were torn to pieces by some invisible force, their blood spraying the warlock's face. Pain coursed through his veins as his magic weakened. He'd used too much.
Merlin coughed, straightening himself and thrusting his sword into a knight that approached him, pulling the blade out just as another knight burst into his vision. Ducking low, the warlock slit the man's throat, avoiding the mace that swung over his head.
He looked up as a spray of arrows rained down upon them, snapping his finger and the arrows and archers burst into flames. Screams tore through the sky, already thick with magic and smoke, but Merlin moved forward, unhindered by the bodies that littered the dark ground.
Entering a clearing filled with Camelot's soldiers that were advancing on weakening druids, Merlin lifted his hands up, sending the men flying, the warlock doubling over as the spell dizzied him. He rose just as a chainmail-clad knight attacked him. Merlin blocked the blow, vision clearing as he circled the man. They tested each other's blades, the sounds of smashing iron ringing in the warlock's deafened ears. The man faked left, and Merlin's sword moved to parry, only to leave the warlock's right side undefended. Slicing through the leather and chainmail, pain reddened his vision as the blade left a gash in his skin.
"You'd think you would have learned not to fall for that trick anymore."
Merlin's eyes met Arthur's as he moved his hand to cover the wound in his side, sword raised between them.
"What, can't blast me across the field this time?"
The warlock lunged forward and the two locked blades, the motion jarring the men's shoulders. Screams and roars seemed to die around them as they pulled back, circling each other once again. This time it was Arthur's turn to start, the pair moving back and forth, as though alone, doing their best to avoid the bodies that turned from men into obstacles beneath their feet. Merlin ducked to the side to avoid Arthur's blow, raising the hilt of his sword up to punch the prince in the jaw. The other man reeled back, but came back even faster, his next blow nearly taking the warlock's arm off.
Scarlet clad knights approached the pair, attempting to take the sorcerer by surprise as he dueled with their prince. But a snap of his pale fingers sent them into the air, the use of his magic gripping him with vertigo. The prince's eyes narrowed and he lunged at his weakened opponent, and when their blades locked, Excalibur flew from Merlin's hand. Arthur took the opportunity to slam the hilt of his sword into Merlin's chest, and the raven-haired man clutched his throat as the breath was torn from his lungs, another kick in the gut sending the warlock to his knees before the prince.
It was as if time slowed as Arthur leveled his sword to Merlin's throat, the pair breathing heavily as they captured each other's gaze.
"Go ahead, kill me. Kill me and this war will finally be over. Your father's war on magic will be won," Merlin rasped bitterly, eyes clouding in pain as it became harder to breathe. "The druids, without me at their head, will flee to the woods. The king will be executed, and the soldiers chained. The dragons will hide in the mountains, chased and cursed by all who walk the land, and there, in the darkest caverns of the earth they will dwell until they fade into thought and time, written and scorned into legends that will turn to fantasies, the last of them dying forgotten in the corners of the world. Lancaster Wood will burn as your father cleanses the land of magic, and those sorcerers who found sanctuary there will be hunted down, the sky stained black as smoke from the pyres blanket the heavens. Morgana will join them, her beauty fading into the flames, the terrible sorceress who would fight to the ends of the earth until she reaches that end and finds no one there at her side. And Gwen—" Arthur stiffened. "She will be stripped of her title, her family, her home, and if she doesn't share her father's fate, she will be imprisoned or banished, the rest of her life lived in some foreign land as a servant to a nameless master, until the years of her life are utterly spent, and she dies alone, plagued with dreams of what could have been. And you, you'll rule a land that stretches to both sides of the horizon, and Camelot will be strong and unchallenged and everything your father hoped for will come true. But you will only be a hollow shell with a crown, an echo of your father's great glory, and your sons will share the same fate until your line fades away, long forgotten by the generations of tomorrow. So do it, kill me and end this war, kill me and create the world you were raised to build."
With that Merlin closed his eyes, the smallest tear leaking from beneath his lashes.
Arthur looked down at him, his sword cutting into the man's pale flesh, leaving behind streams of scarlet. The warlock, on his knees before him, his great foe at his mercy, wounded and bleeding, armor torn and stained, hands useless at his side, his magic too weak to protect him. His raven-black hair was tussled and messy, those eyes that were months ago twinkling with mischief, closed, and the prince knew that if he were to look into their bottomless cobalt depths he would see nothing but pain, horror, and sadness.
War has made shadows of us all.
One lunge and this war would be over, the smallest step would spill this man's blood onto the ground to seep into the earth, Arthur and his kingdom crowned victor to a war as old as the land.
You cannot fail me.
The prince took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and swung the sword.
"MERLIN! NO!"
First time I've ever written anything remotely sexual, so I would love it if you guys gave me some advice and tips (there will be plenty more in the following chapters-that is if Merlin lives).
I guess your reviews may keep his life in the balance :P
The poem is
SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN GUINEVERE
A FRAGMENT
by
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
Good bye lovelies! I will see you once I return!
Reviews are made of rainbows and sunshine and rewarded with internet-cookies (*wink wink* *nudge nudge*)