Disclaimer: Merlin ist nicht meine. All I have in this world is a Stone Age laptop, and a liking for misspelled German words.
And so: A rather strange little chapter that I cannot actually vouch for, in the great scheme of things, seeing as I haven't a clue as to how it came about... However, if it is good, then I guess I can take credit... =P
Chapter Two:
Diminutive Exodus.
Three days. And silence. The hours begin to take their toll upon their king, the cold shadow of nothingness slipping silently into the room that he has resolved to occupy. The shadow of death. Many have come, attempting to force the man to see the sense that he had once been attempting to instil within everyone else, although the only thing that Uther himself can see is the frail and rapidly weakening body of his beloved son. He has not much longer left.
The blemishing droplets of scarlet blood seep from the septic lesion, which disfigures Arthur's bare, entirely revealed chest, as he lies upon the white sheets of his four-poster bed, his closed eyes staring at the ceiling as he starts blindly in his fever-enraptured rest. The thin bandage is already saturated with the crimson life-giving substance, which shows so vivid against the deathly pale colour of his skin. His flaxen hair, unwashed and greasy, lies flat against his damp forehead, soaked through and plastered to his skin with the heat of his illness.
Yet still, Uther does not move. There is something holding him there, whether it is the thought of Arthur awakening and finding an unfamiliar serving maid there, rather than his father, continually watching over him, or something far stronger, as though there is a far more momentous presence watching over the Pendragon males. His business with the state is ignored, dwindling into an almost nothingness. All dealings are left to his court, although he trusts the various members of his entourage with almost everything to do with his kingdom.
However, Uther realises that, for once, events will not instantly go his way, purely because of his elevated status, above all of those around him. 'King' will get him nowhere. Although all these negative thoughts and feelings surrounding the king seem, rather predictably, stemmed from Arthur's body, motionless except for the slight fidget from the dreamless slumber he has once again slipped into, within his coma-like state. Much as he hates to leave him, Uther must.
His bones creak their weary protests as he stands upon his somnolent feet, determined to remain as strong as he physically and mentally can, in both appearance and stature, until the very end, when he knows that he will fall, further than ever before. Giving a final glance towards the young man who lies upon the sheets, the vibrant and visibly scarring red blotches of his blood the only visible colour in the otherwise pale and washed out surroundings.
The king's short sigh masks his exit from the room, clouding the air around him in a brief spell of invisibility from reality. However, all too soon, the mist clears, and he is, once again, lost within himself. One weathered hand runs across the door, chasing the knots and whorls of the old wooden object fearlessly, attempting to vaguely cover the exit that he so does not want to practise, although he knows that he has to. Perhaps it will be a blessing in disguise, to allow the young prince Arthur some true rest, utterly and absolutely alone with his own thoughts and presence.
"Sleep, Arthur…"
The door swings back to its previous position, closed and still once again, as the king departs, although his thoughts remain entirely focussed upon the room that he has left behind. Since the night of Ygraine's untimely death, Arthur has been there, in his mind, whether Uther would prefer to accept the fact or deny it entirely.
Entirely oblivious to his father's deep concentration, the young Pendragon dreams.
Short nails, bitten right down to the quick, are not the best way forwards, Merlin decides, resolving to cease in the irritating habit as soon as this hopeless scenario has passed them by, regardless of the outcome and the overall consequences on the people of Albion. The boy can barely stand still, although the energy he spends carelessly is that of nervousness, rather than any fervour that he might feel inclined to waste, what with the great cloud of heavy grey depression being what it is.
To him, Arthur is not just an employer. He is a friend, and a close one at that. Merlin will risk anything, just to have the young prince mockingly smirk at him again… Yet, as Uther could not, neither Merlin nor Gaius can return even the slightest speck of a former lively state to Arthur, no matter how many times they have tried to revive him, with various different methods – Even those effectively outlawed from the realm. He is just too far gone.
"Administer this. To ease his passing." Gaius' sudden voice seems just as stunted as Merlin is sure that his would be, should he have any of the inclination to speak at all. It seems that even the physician does not want to admit the inevitable. Merlin's eyes, sparked with the golden flecks of an unknown magic, flick from Arthur's own closed lids, towards his lips, then back up once more, never remaining upon a single point of his contoured features for more than a few moments.
"No." The single word is surprisingly strong for the situation that the manservant finds himself thrown into, and even Merlin himself seems slightly startled by the amount of his own effort channelled solely into that one, lonely yet expressly defiant, syllable.
"He is going to live. This is not his destiny!" The young boy is barely out of adolescence yet, although his voice is sturdy and supported, as though he has seen far more than the reality of the situation.
"The Priests of the Old Religion have the power to reverse the actions of life and death, you told me so yourself. Uther has not eradicated it completely, whether he thinks he has or not. There is an island, the Isle of the Blessed, just beyond the Valley of the Fallen Kings. I'll go there... Ask for Arthur to be saved..." Merlin's eyes seem almost glazed over and out of focus, considering his actions, and the price that he knows must be paid, to guarantee Arthur's survival.
"No! I cannot allow you to do that; it is too dangerous for a boy..." The volume of Gaius' words is low, almost too quiet to hear, although he has a reason to be extremely cautious of his conversation, especially just feet away from Prince Arthur – Unconscious or not. The island in question is notoriously infamous as the very heart of the Old Religion of pure magic – The banned practice within Uther's kingdom. Merlin's actions fabricate unwanted consequences, especially when the young warlock proceeds without even a second thought of what will come...
"You know I have to do this..." The heated conversation between the physician and the covert sorcerer continues, although as quietly and seemingly stealthily as the fervour-fuelled persuasion exchange will allow, within Arthur's chambers. The door is tightly shut behind them, the young prince remaining unaware, upon the sheets of his four-poster bed and, as far as the two are knowledgeable of, no others listening in on their dangerous dialogue.
However, Merlin's voice is steadily rising, disguising the footsteps of another presence, slowly approaching the wooden doors, which hide Arthur's rooms away from the rest of the castle. The new figure stands there, concealed behind the screen that will obscure his presence from the sight those who would need to know of it the most.
"Gaius, he is going to die, and there is nothing that I can do! Unless there is someone that I can convince, at the Isle of the Blessed, to trade my life for his, then the prince is going to die..." The young man's voice becomes quieter, dropping the end of the sentence rapidly into nothingness as he hears brisk yet heavy footsteps, dying away from the room in which the three men reside. The hurried movements are all that Merlin needs to hear, even though he is still ignorant of the identity of the eavesdropper.
"I have to go now. Someone heard." Merlin stands straight again, taking a couple of hesitant steps towards the door as he does so, and never turning to face Gaius, the man who has been like a surrogate father to Merlin for the past couple of months.
"Merlin, please, it is too dangerous!" But still, the physician attempts to insist the fact upon the strong-willed boy, although he knows that nothing will come of his vain attempts to change Merlin's mind from where it already is so firmly set. The door, stunted in its movements by sheer age, swings shut behind him before the old man has barely finished his pleading.
"Merlin!" The cry is almost instantaneous, the second that the young man reaches the top of the old stone stairs, with the intent to descend and continue. His journey to the Isle of the Blest has barely begun, although the female's voice penetrates deep, shattering the otherwise unnatural silence of the stone building. Long, draping cobalt and amethyst gauze skirts ripple through the unwilling air as it repels the material, brushing across the white foyer, while small, heeled shoes create an unintentional clattering echo around the hall.
She runs towards him, her face painted with the utterly flawless picture of despair and horror, although it is a damaged perfection, owing to its nature. Morgana grips Merlin's hands as she staggers to an unbalanced halt before him, her knuckles almost white as he dares to glance down towards their entwined digits. Her curled, dark hair flows freely over her shoulders, although the style is less elaborate than it had been. She has run.
Her breathing is shaking, clearly unsteady, as she attempts to calm herself, although her thoughts do not rest purely upon herself. The Lady Morgana worries for the entire kingdom, the whole of King Uther's realm. As she speaks, further colour drains from her already pale cheeks, spilling the words almost unconsciously from her painted lips as she stutters.
"It's Uther - He's gone. The king's gone!"
A/N.
Little cliffie there, I feel rather impressed... And yes, as soon as you review, there shall be more! I'm not giving up on this one yet...x