Late, sorry. My baaaad. In my defense, Fanfiction was being terribly dumb and not letting me login for like, a week.
You bet your sweet bippy I'm mixing seasons. This is third/fourth/everything good in the world. Just... stretch your imagination a little, folks.
And don't think I don't see you out there. Favourites, Alerts - don't get me wrong, people, I love you all so dearly for them. But as a starting out writer, what I'd really love is feedback. What do you like? Not like? Should Morgana just die off and Uther turn into magical rainbow lollipop butterlies whilst Merlin and Arthur skip happily into the sunset? Tell me! :D
Also - I've a lack of spell check combined with a strong dislike of reading my own writing more than once. So I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors that are sure to be tucked in each chapter.
Anyways. I'll be quiet now. Enjoy!
The leaves crunch and twigs break beneath his feet despite Merlin's efforts to remain silent through the woods. Pausing only to mutter a spell to lighten his feet, he glances behind him briefly. He's been running for a little over an hour, making his slow way back towards Camelot in a loop, so far encountering no one.
Merlin sighs, and sets forward again. He curses inwardly at his blasted sense of direction - he'd realized after about twenty minutes of solid sprinting that he had been going the wrong way.
He considered calling Kilgharrah, but decided against it. Riding a dragon into Camelot's gates might not be the subtlest way to get in. And that's just it - it wasn't so much about getting in to Camelot as it was getting Arthur out.
Panting, the warlock takes in his surroundings as he slows to a walk. He had long since left forest that had ever been familiar, and was left with only the dark, old oaks that surrounded the area. The leaves above are so thickly layered, only bare whisps of sunlight can fight through to reach the earth. Even then, their colour is dyed an eerie green hue, mixed with it's natural pale yellow. It's far too cold for noon. The ground appears to long since abandoned hope at growing anything, and is just a pale base of dirt and stones.
A breeze flows through the path, sending shivers down the warlock's spine. Even after it's passed, the goosebumps remain. Something feels wrong. Merlin pauses and listens for a bird song, or a scurrying animal or anything, really.
But there's only silence.
Then the snap of a twig.
The warlock spins towards the source of the noise in a heartbeat, arm outstretched in another, his eyes already a molten gold in preparation for what magic he chooses to call upon.
He sucks in a breath, ready to throw whoever appears far off their feet, or perhaps break a branch from the trees above, or maybe just a good old windstorm -
A flash of red cuts off the warlock's train of thought. A form stumbles out from behind the leaves and body of a great oak and nearly collapses in front of him. The Camelot insignia printed neatly on the crimson cloak surrounding the figure, dark hair matted and dirty, skin riddled with cuts, bruises and caked with blood, holding an injured arm close to his chest -
Merlin has caught the man before even thinking about it, his eyes fading back to their natural colour. The breath he had originally inhaled to cast a spell instead coming out in a loud, surprised call,
"Gwaine!"
Dark eyes rise to meet his, and a tired, pained grin fills the knight's face,
"Hello, Merlin."
A bright light shines in front of closed eyes, turning his vision red. Arthur jolts awake and gasps at the sharp pain in his head. He blinks furiously, trying to adjust to the light quickly as to better take in his surroundings.
His head throbs, a constant drumming, but he otherwise feels unharmed. A little jostled, certainly disoriented, but physically - fine.
Until he remembers. Then anxiety and guilt, as well as an overcompassing feeling of fear, threaten to overwhelm him. Merlin. They've taken Merlin, whoever they are, to God knows where to do God knows what - and he swears, if they dare touch him, if Arthur sees Merlin hurt in any way, there will be hell to pay. And that's coming from the bloody prince of Camelot.
Finally, the area comes into view. The bright light the prince had been fighting was merely the sun - he was situated directly facing a window.
He groans quietly and stretches, joints popping in protest before settling comfortably into place. Arthur shifts around the bed, moving the sheets off and throwing his legs over the side. He shakes his head, letting blond locks fall in front of his eyes.
Vague words and memories flow through his thoughts, tangled phrases from his unconscious like Return him to Camelot, and Deal with ... Cenred, and most prominantly, M'lady. They had kept repeating M'lady. But if they were returning to Camelot, surely he would be brought before his father?
Unless. A frown turns down Arthur's lips as he contemplates the idea. Camelot.. was safe, wasn't it? He pulls himself forward to better see through the window - to ease his worried thoughts, put this nonsense to rest - and is greeted by horror. The prince's heart leaps to his throat as he takes in the sight before him.
Bodies laid strewn and desecrated all around the lower town while others lay injured and groaning. Buildings were collapsed, wood and stone scattered as though blown to pieces. Fires decorated rooftops, crows circled above awaiting their next meal, and a clear aura of despair hung in the air.
It was hell.
The air left Arthur in a gust, leaving him gasping for breath that offered no relief. What had happened, what was going on, questions and terror roam freely through his mind, his panic quickly building and threatening to boil over -
A smooth, familiar voice greets him lowly from behind.
"Hello, Arthur. Or should I say, brother."
"Gwaine, what - what are you doing here? What's going on - holy hell, you're injured!" Merlin quickly ushers the knight to the ground, carefully avoiding sitting him on any of his more prominant wounds. Wincing, Gwaine finally collapses on the forest floor, panting heavily as though having run a great distance. A small smile returns as the knight glances back towards the warlock.
"Let me tell you, Merlin, you're a sight for sore eyes. Thought I'd never see you again, not after you ran off with the princess and everything else."
Merlin's eyes darken with concern. He pulls the cloak from his friend's shoulder and gasps quietly - the injuries were more extensive then he had thought. The warlock nods his head curtly towards Gwaine's mangled arm and the knight holds it out obligingly. Merlin takes it, frowning as even his slightest touch causes the other man to grimace, and holds it gingerly. From what he could tell, it was broken in two places and there was at least one deep gash going through nearly to bone.
"What do you mean, everything else?" He muttered, assessing the rest of Gwaine's injuries before getting to work. "Þurhhæle dolgbenn," Merlin murmured, watching for the knight's reaction wearily. Not that Gwaine was in any condition to stop him at this point. "Þurhhæle licsar min."
The warlock watches as his friend's eyes widen. He could almost see the gears turning and clicking into place. The knight pauses, turning to look Merlin full on, his face unreadable. There's a tense moment where Merlin fears the other man will turn to look at him in hatred, disgust, all the things he feared Arthur would look at him with - but Gwaine just breaks into a wide smile and pulls the warlock in for a one armed hug.
"I always knew there was something about you, Merlin." The warlock grins back, thoroughly relieved by his friend's reaction. He nearly laughs from the break in tension, but holds himself back. The knight flexes his newly healed arm before turning back to face him, suddenly serious. His eyes are dark.
"When you and Arthur disappeared, Uther raised hell," Gwaine's voice is low, his eyes not wavering from Merlin's, "He wasn't going to let heaven or earth get between him and finding you two. Unfortunately, something bigger than both got in his way. A traitor lurked in our midst, biding their time."
The knight pauses, his gaze dropping to the ground. His eyes are suddenly burning, dark brown flames of fury.
"Morgana," he cursed.
Merlin recoiled. He'd suspected something had gone awry in Camelot, but never would he have imagined Morgana being able to overtake Uther in the course of just a few days - he hadn't thought it possible!
"The witch Morgause appeared with an army but the day you left," Gwaine continued, his eyes fixated on the dirt below, "Morgana revealed herself to Uther, confronted him - apparently she's his daughter."
Merlin nodded and did his best to look properly shocked for the moment, for Gwaine - it wouldn't do well for him to be all knowing at this point.
The knight chuckled darkly and threw his head up towards the sky. "Then it all went down from there. She took the crown, claiming it as her birth right; which, if she tells the truth, it is. The city was overrun, bodies dropped like flies from unseen reasons - any who opposed the queen were killed on the spot. When the knights would not pledge their alleigence, she - she turned on the people. So many innocent families, slaughtered, and for what?"
The warlock turned and looked away, hiding his face in shame.
It was his fault.
If he hadn't let Arthur convince him to leave, Morgana wouldn't have taken the throne - so many would still be alive, families not torn apart, hearts not broken. They could have stopped her.
He could have stopped this.
Merlin catches a single tear running down his cheek and catches it quickly, thankful for the dark of the trees. He turns back to Gwaine, questions still burning in his throat,
"How did you escape? What of the other knights, Leon, Lancelot -?"
"I know not. Last I had seen, they were all thrown into the dungeons along with the king. Mind you, I escaped, didn't I? Sneaked past her guards, knocked three of them out. Never did like a fair fight. Maybe some of the others got out the same way."
Merlin nodded briefly, thinking. His mind whirrled and spun trying to come up with something.
"Alright. Ok, Gwaine. I need you to go - keep going South, find the outlying towns, gather as many as you can. Try to contact anyone who you think would help, call in all your favors."
The knight nodded, albeit a little taken aback from usually quiet, calm Merlin's sudden fierce determination. "We'll leave in the morning, then." He responded, rising from the ground to begin preparing camp.
But the warlock just shook his head, smiling grimly. "I'm not - I can't - come with you, Gwaine."
Startled, a look of concern and confusion covers the other man's face. "But where will you go, then?"
Merlin squares his shoulders and narrows his eyes. "Camelot."
"You're bloody crazy, Merlin, have you listened to a thing I've said?" Gwaine shouted, suddenly furious, "They'll kill you before you've taken a step! I won't let you go!"
"Gwaine, please," the warlock whispers pleadingly, "Arthur's in there. I can't just leave him, or Camelot. It's my destiny to protect both, I can't just abandon that."
The knight holds very still, his eyes locked into Merlin's. The latter is careful not to let his gaze, or his resolve, waver. They stay frozen a minute before Gwaine lets out a broken laugh and looks away.
"Merlin," he whispers, eyes landing everywhere but the warlock. The knight looks like he's about to say something, but catches himself and closes his mouth quickly. He glances over and gives the warlock a small, forced smile.
"Just be safe, then."
Merlin smiles back and nods, turning back towards Camelot, intent on getting there within the next two days. He would have to run most of the way, and keep close to the river as a source of water -
"Merlin," Gwaine's weak voice suddenly calls out from behind him and Merlin turns back to respond, but before he can a pair of chapped, yet soft unfamiliar lips are pressed to his.
The kiss only lasts a moment before the knight pulls away, smiling sadly. The warlock is blushing terribly, stuttering, trying to explain. Gwaine just chuckles,
"I know you don't feel the same way, Merlin. I'm not trying to take you from the princess or anything like that. I just... I just needed to let you know. Please, Merlin, just be safe. If not for me, for him."
He lets his hand linger on the warlock's cheek a moment longer before pulling away. With that the knight turned and disappeared into the thick of the woods, his crimson Camelot cloak trailing behind him.
Sadness for his friend wells up in the warlock's chest, regret for a love that could never be, and it's with a heavy heart he turns towards Camelot.
Towards Arthur.