To say the very least, Percival was abashed. As he rushed behind Merlin he had a strange feeling that he knew what was coming. When they reached a small garden, Merlin sat down on the nearest bench in the shadow of the wall. Percival sat down beside him, not saying anything. They sat there feeling as the heat of the sun warmed the air around them.
Merlin leaned back, eyes closed, enjoying a moment of peace. Percival watched the splendour of the garden. It reminded him of his childhood times.
"My mother loved roses," Percival commented. "My parents were gardeners. We were a Lord's servants. He was a good man, that Lord, he loved flowers and birds, and took care of bees. His son killed him." Percival sighed.
Merlin turned his head tiredly to look his friend in the eye.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because his son didn't love flowers and birds," Percival replied simply.
Merlin nodded. "But you love flowers and birds."
"Especially roses." Percival smiled.
Merlin stood with difficulty and walked to the nearest rose bush. Percival recognised them as being late fall roses. They had not yet burst into bloom.
"What about your parents?" Merlin asked.
"When the garden and the castle burned down, I think that it also destroyed my parents' hearts. They did not live long after that." Percival leaned forward and looked at how Merlin tenderly placed his hand over the leaves.
"All the living things are connected. Humans, birds, the earth, roses." Merlin clenched his palms over one bud. "We share the energy. We are born, we live and take food from the world around us, we die, and we go back to the earth. It's the circle of life."
And right there, before Percival's eyes, the rose bloomed.
A beautiful, white rose.
Percival felt his heart ache.
His mother's rose.
"Whether we're gardeners, knights or warlocks, we do what we can, protecting life and sometimes killing." The flower withered away. Merlin sighed.
"I am not a good gardener. I am able to command the earth, fire and water, but what I love is up there. Do you know how it feels to fly? It is… an amazing thing." Merlin swayed. His speech faltered.
"Merlin?" Percival was up just in time to catch Merlin when he collapsed.
"Don't… say… any…ing.. Art…r…" Merlin whispered as he drifted away.
#
"Will he live until nightfall?" Hunith asked, rubbing Merlin's cold hands.
"I can only hope," Gaius answered. They couldn't do anything anymore. Their only hope now was Aithusa.
Merlin didn't wake up again. His breath was choppy. At times he stopped breathing altogether, frightening them all, until he finally drew a long painful breath.
"It is his magic that is keeping him going, nothing else," Aeron said.
"It's white," Percival said suddenly, sitting near the fireplace, not looking at anyone.
"What is white?" Gaius asked.
"His magic. It's white. The late fall roses are reds with a hint of orange. But his rose was white. White magic."
Aeron nodded absently.
"You are right. Where did you hear that?"
Percival turned to see the healer who was browsing one of the Gaius's books.
"My grandfather told me. His... talent was to see people's auras. He usually could tell when someone lied, because how the aura changed around them. And who was a bad person, or good. Or who had magic."
"A colour of magic... White you say? It suits him. It is rare colour among us. Green, black, blue, yellow, red, grey; Those are common. But pure white." Aeron muttered.
"White like snow," Percival confirmed.
"Pure like a child, but it's also a very dangerous colour. White is like a canvas, and can be painted many colours. Like black." Aeron sighed, but Percival shook his head and looked to Merlin.
"Not him, he will be white forever," he said with complete certainty.
#
There they stand, in the clearing. Waiting.
Percival was holding Merlin in his arms. Tristan, Gwaine, Gaius and Hunith were with him, and at the tree line stood number of others, druids, waiting.
They didn't have to wait long before they saw the Great Dragon. And then they saw the little one.
"So that's the dragon which he saved from us," Gwaine noted when they watched the little white dragon flying over them.
Percival couldn't think but that white was somehow the colour of the day. It seemed like an omen. A good, albeit dangerous, omen.
Kilgharrah landed, turning at once to face Aithusa, completely ignoring the party assembled in the clearing.
"Aithusa, calm down and help him," Kilgharrah demanded.
The white dragon screeched in protest.
"Lower him to the ground, sir knight," Kilgharrah said.
Percival, his eyes wide, lowered Merlin gently to the ground. Aithusa landed beside them. He looked at Merlin and screeched again. Kilgharrah growled.
"I know, but you have to try."
And Aithusa tried. Healing magic shimmered above Merlin like glowing mist.
"Well done, Aithusa." Kilgharrah lowered his head to watch Merlin closely. Aithusa screeched again and Percival got the feeling that something wasn't right.
Gaius kneeled over Merlin. "He is breathing normally again. His pulse is stable."
Everyone in the clearing breathed a collective sigh of relief. Only the dragons seemed to be anxious.
"Something is wrong," Kilgharrah said, retreating.
"What?" Gaius asked, looking up worriedly.
"I can't feel his magic," Kilgharrah answered. Aithusa screamed in sorrow and pain.