Chapter 16

Forstig Léoþbenda

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of either Danny Phantom or Merlin

Danny stared at the open door, trying to figure out what the heck had just happened. Two minutes ago all he had wanted was to be out the door and free of Kilian once and for all. Now he didn't know what to think. There was no way he had just used magic. It wasn't possible. There was just no way. He was half ghost for crying out loud, there was absolutely no way he could use magic.

But still he couldn't deny the fact that he'd said the words, said words that sounded exactly like when Merlin cast magic, and the door had opened in response.

Distantly he heard the slow sound of Kilian clapping behind him, but he couldn't focus on that. His mind felt numb. It was like the time he'd first knowingly turned intangible. Disbelief mixed with a healthy portion of 'no way, this is completely impossible!'. He gulped audibly, looking down at the curled fingers of his hand.

"My dear boy." Kilian offered, his voice sickly sweet with all the deadly undertones of Vlad Masters when talking to his father. The man put a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that Danny was sure was supposed to be comforting but felt far colder. Far crueller.

Danny shrugged him off and pushed through the door. He took a quick turn down one of the smaller servant's corridors and retreated to the safety of invisibility. He was a ghost, and those powers were constant. They were safe and he could deal with them. He could hear the distant steps of Kilian passing by, the foreign sorcerer no doubt attempting to find him and sway him to their side.

Danny felt shaken. He was a ghost and he had been a ghost for three years. His ghost powers were safe and familiar, if dangerous. God only knew what would happen if he decided to completely let go of his cyrokinesis or let loose a ghostly wail. But they were his powers and he could control them. Not this, not magic. 'Aliese duru rýne.' Three words which damned him. Words of what Merlin called the Old Religion, words that caused magic but couldn't cause magic because he was supposed to be a ghost and ghosts couldn't use magic.

Merlin had said as much about the dorocha.

Magic didn't work around them; Merlin had explained that being around them completely cut off the magic in the air, leaving the warlock feeling like Danny had after Vlad attacked him with the Plasmius Maximus. And Merlin had also said that Danny himself felt a little like the dorocha. Danny had taken that to mean that ghosts couldn't use magic. That was logical, right? After all, ghosts could do a lot of stuff that looked like magic... and perhaps a younger version of himself would have thought of his ghost powers as magic, once upon a time.

But he knew better than that. He'd felt the magic in the air around Camelot and it was so much warmer than anything he had ever felt from ghosts. And so he knew that his ghost powers were nothing like magic. Which still left the question of what the hell had just happened?

Danny slid down the wall, feeling completely drained. It shouldn't surprise him, not really. He had been literally a walking paradox for three years now. Half ghost; half living, half dead. So it really shouldn't surprise him that stuff like this happened anymore.

Magic indeed.

He really needed to speak with Merlin. Or Gaius. Actually probably Gaius would be the better option; Merlin was better at the practical side of things while the elder man handled the more esoteric knowledge. Of the two, Gaius would probably be able to come up with an answer... if there was one to be found.

Danny nodded to himself, pulling himself upright and making his way down the corridor. He shrugged off his invisibility as he slipped out of a concealed doorway. It was something he'd just have to worry about later. He had been informed that he had to be there for the signing of the treaties, and by now he was probably going to be cutting it close time wise.

He used a side door to dart into the great hall, sidling up behind the Camelot knights in the line between the servants and the squires. He caught a glance of Merlin, standing in place behind Arthur as the monarchs assembled. The elder raven head sent him a concerned glance from across the room, apparently noticing his unease.

'Are you alright?' He heard the warm breath of Merlin's mental voice. It wasn't the first time Danny had heard it, if 'heard' was the right word to use. Over the past week Merlin had been using that to pass on directions, creating an illusion of proficiency in front of the guests. But Danny couldn't respond, he didn't know how to use that telepathy like way of speaking, or if he even could.

Instead Danny offered Merlin a grim faced smile and shook his head. He did need to talk to Merlin, but it would have to wait. For now history was being made, and Danny could tell that this was one of the momentous things that would mark Arthur as a King for all time. This was King Arthur uniting the kingdoms. This was King Arthur bringing together the peoples of Albion. This was King Arthur, forging the foundations of a kingdom which would, one day, reach across the globe as it spread.

As the first king touched his quill to the parchment something profound seemed to hang in the air. This was King Arthur, creating the legend which would endure until his own time.

So for the moment, Danny's concerns would have to wait. And it was as simple as that.

Eadric smirked from his position as he gazed at the other monarchs. His first knight was in position, and he could see others of his retinue taking up their assigned posts. Amongst the peasantry he could see the subtle marks of Daobethan origins, indicating that a number of his sorcerers had successfully infiltrated the Camelot court. His plans were coming swiftly to the close; the leaders of the most prominent kingdoms in Albion were gathered here, all in one place. And Eadric fully expected to take the spoils all in one fell swoop.

"People of Camelot." The Camelot King spoke, bringing silence to the crowded hall. "Knights and visiting dignitaries, my fellow sovereigns. This week has been the culmination of many months of planning and preparation for our ten kingdoms. It is with great joy in my heart that we stand before you today. It has long been my wish that the people of Camelot could help others anywhere, regardless of how far away they are and political boundaries. The signing of this treaty signifies a dawning of a new age; one where our kingdoms stand united, one where the prosperity and strengths of each individual kingdom are shared with us all. With this treaty we pay homage to the histories of our separate nations while forging the foundations of a new era of greatness between us all.

"My friends, as we sign this treaty we create, not just the largest alliance the land of Albion has ever known, but we lay down the paving stones which will build, for all of us, a true age of peace and prosperity. After today we are not merely ten separate kingdoms, we are brothers. A people united across the land and it is with great pride that we mark this day as the commencement of a new aeon of greatness for our fair Albion."

Eadric clapped along with the crowd. If nothing else he would credit the younger king with a certain charisma. Arthur Pendragon may be lacking in substance and in wisdom, but he did have a way with words. Ironic, in a way, given how disdainfully he and his kingdom viewed magic. After all, for all the power Eadric himself had gathered, the power of Arthur's words had an almost magic pull in itself. Eadric was certain that if it weren't for his own fortitude of will, he would be swayed by the power of King Arthur's bold speeches.

But Eadric was much smarter than that.

The applause died down as King Cathal stepped forward, dipping the quill into the ink before signing with a flourish. Eadric scanned the crowd, noting the barely contained joy of the Camelot citizens and the supportive pride of the gathered knights. The Great Hall was a wash of colours, the national emblems clashing violently against each other. It was only a matter of time until they were reduced to one. Eadric smirked at the thought. Soon enough Daobethan black and red would fly high above the ten kingdoms. And all this talk of unity would become reality, under the firm grip of a singular powerful leader.

The third king signed the treaty before stepping back to allow Queen Annis to take the quill. Annis's signature was followed by Arthur before the blonde man stepped back to take the hand of his queen. Olaf was the next to step forward, a proud smile on his face as the ageing king took the quill. With every signature Eadric's hidden smirk grew wider, knowing each leader was only signing the way to their doom.

At last King Lot stepped backwards, leaving the quill free for Eadric to sign. Eadric smirked as he stepped forward, glancing briefly at his First Knight as he lifted the quill. From across the room Kilian released an almost feral flashing of teeth as his eyes flared gold.

Eadric released a smug laugh, setting down the quill with a harsh thud. He could feel a tangible shift in the air as the crowd noticed something wrong. "Unity..." Eadric spoke, cutting through the silence like a dagger. "Is a... noble... goal. All here can agree that this division between our kingdoms weakens us profusely. However nobility must never take the place of wisdom, of power."

He paused, studying the confused eyes of the other kings before landing on the young eyes of King Arthur. Eadric smirked as he strode towards the younger man. "You are a fool, Arthur. Rallying support in this way. You proclaim the strength of your people when your own kingdom has become rotten from within. King less than a year before being overthrown, by your sister no less? You do not have the strength for such an alliance. Not when you cannot control your own citizens. Foolish."

Eadric scoffed as he moved away, walking down the line of regents. They were all decked out in their silken finery and jewels, naively underestimating the value practicality in these dark times. Not one could move, such was the nature of the spell Kilian had woven. And all their finery would come to nothing when he seized control. He paused, turning away from them all in disgust.

"And the rest of you are little better, rushing into this with the promise of unity and peace. How can you expect the so called peace to last when this agreement is built on sand? And like sand it will wash away in even the lightest rainstorm. The next time Camelot is overthrown you will be facing wolves from within. No. This peace is illusionary. There is only one way for these ten kingdoms to experience true unity. Power. And the will to use it."

"Kilian, Come!" He commanded, calling his pet sorcerer forward. The hazel eyed man strode forward, his black cloak shifting just enough to reveal a small silver box. It held the source of the enchantment, the binding that rendered all the leaders motionless. Kilian took the final steps up to the table, setting the box firmly atop the treaty agreement.

It felt prophetic, in a way.

"People of Camelot." Eadric continued, brushing his hands against the silver lid. "Knights of these ten kingdoms, my fellow, former leaders. It is time for a drastic change in the way these kingdoms are run. Since the Great Purge, initiated in this very kingdom by the late King Uther, the balance of power has shifted from the might of magic, to the strength of steel. However in doing this he chose to ignore magic and its purpose in Albion. He forgot magic, and in so doing he led all his allies to do the same."

Eadric sneered as he lifted the lid, staring at the contents held within. "This box contains the source of the enchantment bewitching your leaders and protectors. None can move until I will it. None can fight unless by my command. This is the proof of power. This is the truth of my succession. And it cannot be denied. For whom amongst you knows how to fight that which you have always been taught to fear?"

Eadric grinned starkly, staring over his literally captive audience. It was so very simple, to seize the ten kingdoms in his palms. He slammed the lid back on the silver box, baring his teeth at the pained tremor that rippled through the room. It was one thing to know what the bindings did, another to see it affect so many people at once. And once more he was astounded at the pompous idiocy of these other kingdoms for expecting a piece of parchment and ink to outweigh the power of blood and magic.

He let out a dark laugh, turning smugly away from the table and out of the Great Hall. Behind him he heard Kilian scrambling to catch up, picking up the silver box and leaving confusion in his wake. He would allow the citizens a day to come to terms with this change; a day as their leaders and protectors stood as living statues in the Great Hall of Camelot. The next day would be the execution, leaving his claim as conquering king untested and then, the third day would be a coronation. King Eadric Blæcādlig of Albion certainly had a nice ring to it.

His black cloak billowed around him as King Eadric of Daobeth stalked through the corridors of Camelot. His powerful stride domineering as the Dark King inspected the full extent of his first acquisition.

Merlin let out a shaky breath as he stared at the frozen crowd. He could hear the muted whispers of the commoners, gathering volume as they shared their confusion. But there were no words of comfort to come, nobody to lead, nobody to guide. How could there be when every single knight and leader was held motionless by an enchantment?

Merlin gazed sightlessly through the crowd, seeing the frozen faces of his friends. The Knights of the Round Table held fast in invisible chains. The knights of eight other kingdoms rendered immobile in their armour. The kings and queens all held fast, unable to move from their regal positions. His oldest friend Gwen, static in her Camelot crimson gown.

And Arthur. Arthur who hadn't so much as twitched since King Eadric took up that damnable quill.

He should have known, should have paid closer attention when Danny warned him about Eadric. But Merlin had wanted this for Arthur so badly. It was Arthur's Destiny to unite the land of Albion, how could it not work out? He had been blind sighted by his pride, looking for the best in people when he knew, he knew, always to doubt appearances. Morgana should have been proof enough.

But he had ignored the danger. He had sensed that Eadric didn't have magic and judged that to be enough. He hadn't even suspected Eadric's first knight. Not truly. Of course he'd noted the fact that the man had some magic, but that was nothing when compared to the might of say Morgana. And Merlin had assumed that the man focused more on his sword skills. After all, most of the magic wielders he knew had paltry weapons training because they deemed it worthless to practice anything outside their magic.

Merlin had judged him wrongly, assuming that it was safe simply because the man wielded a sword. It was clear, now that despite his small magical ability, Kilian was trained to use it all to its fullest extent. That was what made him dangerous, because for all his might, Merlin still barely scratched the surface when it came to knowledge of the Old Religion. Kilian had proven himself to be a threat, more to the point he was loyal to Eadric Blæcādlig which made him doubly so. And now it was Arthur and his kingdom that would suffer for Merlin's poor judgement.

Merlin could feel the enchantment; he could feel how it wove through the air and into its subject's very blood. He could sense the binding, the way they were all held frozen; seeing everything while held rigid and unable to interact with the world outside their eyes. And he could see that their hearts were still beating, that they were still breathing, if barely. But not one of them could move a muscle because of the heavy magical shackles that the enchantment wove around them.

He had read about spells like this before, spells that tied the subject to an object. But they were many and varied, and while the basic principles tended to remain the same, ending the enchantment was not. Using one method of ending the enchantment would prove fatal for all of them if it was wrong. Without knowing how the source of the spell worked, he couldn't risk destroying it. Not that he knew where Kilian had taken the box in the first place.

He himself was free, doubtless discounted for simply being a servant. He took an uncertain step forward, looking through the crowded hall as the free people looked for guidance. The people who would usually protect them in this circumstance couldn't even speak. Even the low ranked soldiers who usually ran the emergency evacuations had been caught up in the spell, although to a lesser degree. It looked like anyone and everyone who could run a meaningful resistance had been bound. The only people free seemed to be the peasants and the castle servants.

Merlin frowned as the black clad knights moved, forming a blockade around the doors and walls. Apparently the Daobeth entourage remained free in its entirety. It shouldn't be surprising, really.

"You are hereby ordered to return to your duties." One of the black cloaked knights commanded.

"The running of the Citadel of Camelot is to continue unchanged." A second knight continued seamlessly.

"Preparations for this evening are to carry on as planned." Another black clad knight demanded.

"Any questions will be answered by King Eadric Blæcādlig three days hence." Another spoke. No one knight seemed to be in control and Merlin realised the power play for what it was. With no one apparent leader in the room, there was no one to rebel against. Not when their captors painted an immutable united force.

"Questions before such time will be judged with extreme prejudice." A fifth knight instructed, furthering the assertion of power.

"The people of Camelot are required now to all return to your duties." A sixth knight spoke, this time with the feeling of finality.

Merlin watched listlessly as the people of Camelot quietened, all looking up to Arthur for instruction, as though they expected their king to miraculously break through the enchantment and save them. And it broke Merlin's heart to see the glimmer of hopeless fear that sparked in their eyes when they saw him do nothing.

One by one the free citizens trickled out of the hall, all returning to their previous jobs as they were instructed. No doubt the news would quickly spread through the lower town, and from there to the surrounding farms. Camelot had once more been overthrown, and in doing so it seemed Eadric would take the ten kingdoms.

Merlin silently slunk out of the room, keeping his head bowed to keep from arising suspicion. As he walked out he noted just how many people had been captured in the spell. With the exception of Daobeth's own, all the knights in the room were living statues. Worse, as Merlin scanned the lines he noticed that the Camelot squires seemed to have been enchanted as well, plus anyone who squired for the visiting delegations. It painted a hopeless image; nobody who stood a chance of defending Camelot was free, and without knowing the nature of the enchantment Merlin couldn't risk using his magic to free them.

He kept his shoulders slumped as he walked through the castle. Gaius too had been caught up in the enchantment. No doubt his position as advisor to the king had made him worthy of their attention. Normally he could rely on Gaius's wisdom or Arthur's courage to get them through anything. Never before had both of them been captured at the same time and Merlin found himself feeling their absence profoundly.

He was at a loss; the knights may have instructed the citizens to return to their normal duties, but as manservant to the king there was nothing to do if his master was ensorcelled. He found himself trailing a familiar staircase, twisting up into the king's quarters. He slipped through the door, staring listlessly at his master's empty chamber. The desk was still strewn with parchment, the half finished versions of his speech still where they had been left at luncheon. And the shirt that Arthur had peeled off before the meeting lay discarded still on the floor.

It felt so strange to be in here when he knew that Arthur physically couldn't come back. Inside, his mind was whirring; puzzling out the magic that had permeated the Great Hall at the initiation of the spell, hoping to find some way to end the enchantment before Eadric could carry out his plans any further. It wasn't a physical binding, not in the sense that there were any outward signs like chains holding the dignitaries and soldiers in place. But that wasn't a particularly helpful observation.

Merlin sighed, picking up a half eaten plate of food and deciding to take it back down to the kitchens. The platter sat heavily in his arms as he walked through the corridors. Already there was a feeling of defeat hanging in the air. The servants who walked past, so jubilant mere hours ago, now walked with drooped shoulders and weary footfalls. It was clear that Eadric's swift takeover had brought about the same desolation as Morgana's last coup.

The last thing Camelot needed right now was to lose hope, but with the fighters all held captive in a spell it would seem, to the few who remained free, that no hope would come.

He hated this feeling, knowing that at the moment he couldn't do anything without making things phenomenally worse. Gaius was the smart one. He researched the invading magic and more often than not would find the right solution in one of his books. And Arthur was the planner, coming up with the strategy needed to overcome any obstacle. The other knights always helped, adding things to the plan, but it was always mostly Arthur who came through in this sort of situation. Merlin always hung in the background, giving subtle magical assistance to make sure things worked out like Arthur planned, but he couldn't do that this time.

The kitchens were noisy, although somehow more muted than usual. And there were fewer people gathered outside than usual. One of the men sitting outside looked up briefly. He looked straight at Merlin for a moment before knocking twice on the wooden door, then settled back and slumped his shoulders once more.

Merlin could have sworn he heard a momentary lull in the conversation from the kitchen, but it picked right back up a moment later. Merlin stepped through the door, manoeuvring through the bustle to add the plate to the pile of dirty plates. The conversation washed over him, the head cook shouting directions across the room, and if her tone was slightly too shrill, well Merlin couldn't blame her.

Letting out a ragged breath Merlin rolled up his sleeves. If nothing else he could make life easier for his fellow servants. The kitchen was loud with voices, but nothing seemed to be being said. It sounded like people in the pantry were talking, but that couldn't be heard over the babble of cook's precise instructions and the roar of roasting fires. Merlin shifted to the side, filling a bucket with water so he could start washing the dishes.

With Camelot now captured, and all his friends held imprisoned in Kilian's enchantment he didn't know what to do. He needed more time, time to figure out the enchantment and free not just his friends, but the leaders of all the nine kingdoms. He needed a chance to look at the silver box and investigate the source of the enchantment. But for now there was nothing he could do and for all his magical power Merlin couldn't help but feel a little helpless.

King Eadric had taken the citadel, and it seemed the future Pariah Dark was set to take all Albion in one fell swoop.

AN; No time to say 'Hello', Goodbye. It's late! It's late! It's late!

Translation;
Forstig Léoþbenda – Frosty Chains

Hmm... I have no idea what to say, so I'll say nothing instead.

Fare the well,

Bluerose