I was going to wait until the weekend to post this, but I'm feeling kind. So, here we are.
Actually mildly pleased with this. Stuff goes dooown.
enjoy! review! bake cookies! Whatever tickles your fancy, really.
The wind echoed in beats as Kilgharrah's wings drummed steadily across the night sky. A few hours waited until daylight would break, giving them ample time to reach the city before Gwaine and the knights would rally. Which was exactly what Merlin needed. Enough time to talk to Morgana.
Arthur's arms tightened around Merlin's waist as the dragon hit a gust of wind, knocking them sideways and dipping through the air. The warlock chuckled at the prince's nervousness - it was such a rare experience, he may as well relish it while he could. Arthur never showed his emotions so blatently. Merlin's smile softened. Well, he never used to.
Tilting his head back, Merlin pressed his lips to Arthur's ear, chuckling lightly when the prince started, surprised. "Not much further," he murmured, knowing Arthur would hear him. "Are you ready?"
Arthur nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady. They were rather high up, riding atop a dragon, headed towards what would more than likely result in many deaths, and Merlin's lips were still resting against his ear. So he didn't trust his voice, no. But Merlin got the idea, returning a nod and pulling back to face forward.
If one looked particularily carefully, and knew exactly what they were looking for, the tall spires and strong walls of Camelot's city gates were nearly discernable over the edge of the looming horizon. Nearly.
Merlin felt his stomach clench involuntarily, anxiety overwhelming him. He wasn't scared, not really - he knew this could end in only two ways. They could win, Morgana defeated, Arthur returns and takes the throne of Camelot, and the country prospers under his reign for many years to come. This was, obviously, a viable and the preferable option.
Or they lose. And they die.
Merlin knew either option could, and very possibly would, result in his own death. That was alright. He lived to protect Arthur, and he would do so right until the end, whether that be today or in a hundred years from now. But the anxiety came from a fear sprouted in that idea.
Arthur had to live. There was simply no alternative. What was Camelot, the knights, the realm, without King Arthur? What was Merlin? The warlock let out a great exhale, the air he didn't know he was holding rushing out of his lungs. Merlin shook his head, determined. No.
Arthur had to live.
No matter what the cost.
It was as though the air had gone still as the great dragon circled Camelot's courtyard. Or what was left of it. Merlin looked on in horror at the state of it - crumbling stone; houses burning in some places, gone entirely in others; signs of where bodies had recently laid. It filled him with a burn he had never felt, an all-consuming rage, but over that - the need to do something about it.
They landed silently, Kilgharrah's wings stretching to slow them before steadying himself on the ground. Merlin and Arthur slipped off silently. Without speaking, Arthur leaned down and grabbed a sword off the courtyard ground, seemingly discarded by a fighting villager or knight. He flexed his arm, spinning the sword around to check its weight. It seemed to fit whatever expectations he had set, for he nodded and turned back to walk in step with Merlin.
The first signs of light were peeking out from behind the destroyed walls, the sky filled with that pale light of early hours. There was an edge to the air, an anticipation. Like it knew what was coming.
Merlin nodded once to the dragon, who returned the gesture before jolting back into the air and flying into the distance. It would be just them, now. Waiting. Merlin turned to face the castle, Arthur mirroring his actions. They remained silent.
Morgana appeared at the top of the stairs. Her skin was ghostly pale, her eyes surrounded by a dark shadow of both beauty and evil, her dress trailing behind her every step like a second shadow. Morgause remained by her side, looking on both triumphantly and wearily, as though the power of her sister surpasses what she would like. Fear, mixed with admiration, fills her gaze.
The witch stops but a few paces from the two men, observing them with a indescerinable expression. Merlin thinks it is hate. Arthur thinks it is contempt. Morgause thinks it is sadness.
Still, they do not speak.
It's as though the slightest whisper will disrupt and destroy the illusion they've created; the veil that exists where they aren't yet fighting, yet nor is it the past of weakness and youth. Just for that moment, they can be separate and whole, together and apart, at peace.
But it cannot last forever.
"Merlin," Morgana said, her voice smooth as silk, "You were behind this. Arthur's escape, I'm referring to. Your handiwork, I'm presuming?"
Merlin nods, uneasy. He doesn't like how though she speaks to him, her gaze never wavers from Arthur. The latter holds her glare steadily, matching it with a surprising calm.
Morgana grins, a slight bare of the teeth, "Have you admired his new markings?" She laughs, and it sends chills down Merlin's spine. "Now those were fun - and permenant, I'm pleased to say. A part of him forever. Or as long as his forever shall last. A reminder."
To her surprise, Arthur smiled slightly, barely - just a curve at the edge of his lips. Merlin even let out an airy laugh, shaking his head. "A reminder, yes," he said, looking over to Arthur, "But perhaps not what you would like him to be reminded of."
The wind blows up a sudden gust, sending Morgana's hair spinning around her face, hiding it. Distorting it. Her eyes narrow, and she raises her hand at Merlin. The warlock's smile drops entirely and he faces her, serious. He chooses his words carefully, speaking with a measured determination,
"It doesn't have to be this way, Morgana."
"Oh, but it does, Merlin."
"You know that's not true. You see me, what I am," he raises his arm to indicate Arthur, "and how it can be accepted. We don't have to live in fear anymore. We can have peace."
"It was never about peace." Morgana took a step forward, closer to the two men. They stayed steadfast. "It was about what was right."
Thrusting her arm forward, Morgana sends Arthur flying through the air. Merlin sends a fleeting spell behind him to soften Arthur's landing before flying his own spell towards Morgana. The ground beneath her began to shake, and she leaped out of the way just before a massive piece of stone from what had once been a wall came hurtling into the spot where she had just stood.
Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Morgause run towards the city gates. His eyes grew bright as he tried to prevent her from reaching her destination, but Morgana pulled his attention back before he could.
She smirked, "You really think you stand a chance against me, Merlin? What are you but a serving boy with a dangerous hobby." Her eyes darkened to a dangerous gold as she snarled, "You are nothing, nothing compared to me!"
Throwing both her arms up, she cast a dangerous spell to kill Merlin by destroying his mind from the inside out - a highly complicated, effective spell that would leave most dead before they could even blink; that would result in a death so painful, so agonizing, it was hardly ever used, even on arch enemies.
Merlin blocked it with a slight flick of his wrist.
Morgana stopped. She waited.
But Merlin kept standing there. After a moment, he smiled mockingly.
Her eyes widened, and Morgana stumbled back involuntarily. What was this power, where was it coming from? Merlin was... for gods' sake, he was a servant! This, this was beyond anything she had seen - leagues beyond what Morgause had shown her, easily rivalling even Morgana's own power, if not greater.
"Who," she whispered, "Who are you?"
Merlin answered grimly, "The druids call me Emrys."
Morgana recoiled as though struck. Her mind spun and whirled, trying beyond all reason to comprehend what she had just heard. Merlin was Emrys? That was not possible, Emrys was an old man, she had seen him before -
Information flooded her mind and forced her to her knees, clutching her head desparately in an attempt to maintain her sanity.
He is your destiny. And he is your doom.
She looked up, meeting his never wavering gaze of disdain. Swallowing her fear, she stood and faced him head on. Forcing to keep her voice steady should she speak.
Merlin watched her carefully as she registered what he said. Her collapse had startled him - apparently his Druid title had caused her alarm, moreso than he expected. She glared at him as she stood, talking measured steps forward.
"No matter. This will end, Emrys, and it will not end in your favor."
A low thump echoed behind them, causing them both to glance back in surprise. Merlin grinned at the sight - it seemed Gwaine and the knights had arrived. The sounds and clashes of battle played in the distance as the pair locked eyes once more. Merlin felt Arthur come up beside him at nearly the same moment Morgause appeared next to Morgana.
The warlock badly wanted to turn and check with his own eyes if Arthur was alright, but resisted. He couldn't risk looking away from Morgana, not now.
No one breathed. Everything was still.
Arthur was the first to move, lunging around and engaging Morgana in a deadly sword fight. Merlin dived to the side, his eyes burning gold as he sent Morgause flying. The blond witch hit the ground with a crash, shakily rising quick as she could, sending pieces of stone flying towards Merlin's head.
The clangs of swords meeting are spinning through his ears as Merlin dives out of the way. He glances quickly over to where Arthur and Morgana are fighting. Arthur is keeping her busy enough that she can't use magic in her favor - but it looks like an even fight. It seems magic hasn't been the only skill Morgana has been training.
Turning his attention back to Morgause, Merlin grabs a torch from a nearby flame and throws it towards her, intending to cast a spell to increase its heat - but she's much closer than he had thought. She reflects it easily, running up and grabbing Merlin by the throat.
Her strength enhanced through magic, Merlin finds himself trapped and struggling frantically for air. Morgause snarls and tightens her grip. Spots of white start colouring his vision, and Merlin is sure this is the end. He only wished he could stay for Arthur, to make sure the prat didn't get himself killed...
In a last fit of effort, Merlin kicks out towards Morgause's shin - to his surprise, it knocks her back, hissing in pain. Great gulps of air find their way into his lungs as Merlin breathes air in deep. Allowing himself only a moment to rest, he glances to his side and formulates a very quick, very flawed plan.
Merlin grabs Morgause's arm and pulls the both of them under the overhang of what appeared to be an old shop. Shouting words of the old religion, all the while keeping a firm grip to hold Morgause in place, Merlin brings the roof down on them.
The crash distracts Arthur and Morgana's vicious fight. Arthur watches helplessly and catches just the last image of the roof coming down over the two figures. "Merlin!" he screams desparately, turning so he could run and get the other man out before it was too late. Morgana seeming had the same idea for Morgause, as she turned from their fight as well.
Before either of them could move, a figure pushed their way out of the crumbled, burning debris, coughing as they went. Dazed and slightly bloodied, but otherwise unharmed, Arthur's heart restarted as he laid eyes on Merlin stumbling towards them. The prince rushed forward to meet him, grasping the man by his shoulders to hold him up.
Morgana pushed past them, throwing her hand forward - the debris went flying, revealing Morgause's crumpled form.
Dead.
Morgana let out a wail of despair, a shriek so heartwrenching and pained, Merlin wanted badly to cover his ears just to make it stop. The dark haired witch clutched the body of her sister to her chest, tears of anger and grief already streaking down her cheeks as she rocked, back and forth. Arthur and Merlin looked on, pity in their eyes.
In the distance, the pair could hear Gwaine and Leon shouting orders to the villagers and knight, triumphant cries called back as answers. It seemed the forces the knights had assembled were pushing back the witches' armies - Morgause's death must have depleated what strength they had.
Arthur sighed and loosened his grip on the warlock's shoulders, allowing his head to fall forward and rest on Merlin's forehead. "It's nearly over," Arthur murmured, Merlin bringing his arm up to take the prince's hand in his own. "We're okay." He smiled weakly, getting a similar expression in return.
Suddenly, it was quiet. Much too quiet. The two spun around just in time to see Morgana rise, glaring at Arthur with such hate and fury, it shook him to the bone. "You. You've done this, Arthur. All of this has been your fault, and you shall pay for it with your life!"
Morgana pulled out a jeweled hilt from her dress, throwing the knife with such a precision that only years of training, or magic, could achieve. Arthur looked on, helpless, as the flew towards his heart - he knew he couldn't move in time, Morgana had frozen him in place with magic.
The prince screwed his eyes shut and waited for the pain.
But none came.
He waited for the sharp sting, the heat of the blood, the cold that would follow. The agony. Hesitantly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.
Morgana laid dead where she had just stood. Her eyes, which had seem to be eternally burning, had gone flat, the life drained from them. Never had she looked so weak, so sad, then in death.
But that wasn't what Arthur was looking at.
Because the pain had come. Just not how he expected.
Merlin stood in front of him, the jeweled hilt of the blade protruding out his chest. The warlock's hands reached up to touch, and came away drenched in deep red. Arthur's eyes widened in horror and he instinctivly caught the warlock as he fell back. Glancing up to meet Arthur's eyes, his own fluttering weakly, Merlin coughed and choked out a quiet, "Sorry."
Merlin's eyes closed.
And they did not open.