Wherever you will go

I missed this Merlin thought as he sped across the speckled blue sky atop the Dragon, the wind ruffling his dishevelled hair about as he picked up speed. Aithusa, although having grown to her full size, had still not gained the ability to talk to humans, and all these years alone seemed to have left her damaged. In the time it took her to cover the distance, the sun had set above them, the cool night air a breath against his cheek. He worried about her, but knew that until things were sorted, there was nothing to be done. He just hoped the beast would hold out long enough to reach their intended destination. Softening, he patted her scaled back as she flew, to reassure he was there and wasn't leaving again.

Eventually, the view he longed for appeared on the horizon, stark and fierce looking against the gentle blue backdrop, and they touched down at its feet. Glastonbury Tor: what he needed right now – well, who he needed, really. Merlin jogged to Aithusa's giant head, touching her nose briefly in an affectionate gesture before promising to return soon. Then, he was gone, racing towards the door in the stone. Uttering the incantation quickly, he half-fell through the gap produced in his haste to get to Freya. He needed her this time, and he could finally admit it. He needed help.

He sped down the stone corridor, never faltering or tripping. Coming out into the circular room, he found Freya waiting for him, small smile creasing her lips. "You're late" she scolded teasingly, eyes glimmering.

"You knew I was coming?" he asked.

"I always know you're coming." Merlin smiled at the words, crinkling his tired eyes. Freya would know what to do. "I know why you're here, Merlin" she said softly, beating him to it. "Do you?" she concluded, eyebrows aloft.

"I-" Suddenly, the words were scorched into the roof of his mouth, not able to pass through his dry throat. Why was it so hard to admit he was scared? He swallowed hard, reminding himself to breathe, then spat the words out in a quick concession. "There's something wrong with my magic, really wrong. I can't do this anymore, Freya. I need your help"

She smiled "You see, was that really too hard?" He made a face that this was serious, and she nodded quietly, moving over to him and pulling him across the room by the arm. Sitting them both down on a hard stone bench, she tried to catch his eyes, but he kept them trained to the ground. Merlin hated feeling so weak, and was ashamed that he couldn't control it anymore. He had always sworn that when Arthur came back, he'd protect him better this time, but in this state he was worthless.

"Look at me," Freya said softly, and he slowly raised his shaking gaze to meet her steady one. "You are not weak. You have been so brave, Merlin. But admitting there is something wrong, you've come a long way." He nodded. "But if you want your powers back, as strong as before . . . you have to do something I'm not sure you'll be able to"

"What? What should I do? I'll do anything to save them" Merlin said passionately, meaning it. Eyes blazing, he waited for the response. When it came, his fire was dampened.

"Let it go" Freya said, not unkindly, "You have to forget the past and move on. Forgive yourself"

"I can't" he shook his head, downcast, "how could I? I saw him die and the world change a hundred times since. I've seen wars and destruction and more death than any man. I lived through all of that and the things I have seen" Merlin broke off emotionally, looking away, "They'll haunt me always"

Moved by the truth of it, Freya instinctively moved forwards and covers his hand with her own, pale knuckles brushing his. "I'm not saying it will be easy, I'm saying it will be worth it" she told him.

"What if I can't?" he looked up and asked her, emotions aside, "what if I physically cannot just forget it?"

"Then don't forget it. Make it your reason to fight. But forgive what's happened - you'll find strength in that surrender." He looked up at her: she saw the ghost of the man she once knew, but was only a distant memory now. Like the smell of old perfume that sticks in the air years after its wearer is gone, a trace of her Merlin still remained. "I don't know: I need time to think" he admitted, sounding guilty, "but then again, I think I've already had my share of time." He got up and uncertainly made to leave.

"Merlin," she called him back, "You're too hard on yourself. Try having a little faith for once" She crossed the room, kissing the stunned boy on the cheek, "I believe in you." Merlin just stared at her for a second, like he was paralysed, then nodded once and left. Then, he was vanished once more; Freya was alone.

Away from that place, in a deserted attic with the windows boarded up again, Morgana paced furiously. Why did that boy have this effect on everyone? She wanted him dead, all of them dead, but there was something so broken in him it wasn't even worth the fight. Cursing fate for denying her an opportunity for victory, she sighed angrily and slumped into a chair in the corner on the room. What now? She thought. If there was no fight left, what had she been brought back for? Silence answered her, despair beginning to sink in. Apart from the brutish creatures she brought to life, she was utterly alone and abandoned. It was no life. There wasn't even anyone left worth killing or getting revenge on. It seemed like there was no point to it all, when there was a knock at the door.

"Morgana?" the name sounded like a prayer, something sacred, as an awed Mordred saw her for the first time in centuries. She whirled round at the sound of his name, dark hair askew, and her face broke out into a shocked smile, half-believing. "Mordred" she breathed, running across the small space to embrace her old friend; her family. "I can't believe it's you" she whispered, unsure whether this was all a cruel dream.

"Nor can I" the druid boy said, leaning back to look at her. He smiled and she did too in return, then his face turned sombre. "I never got to say thank you"

"For what?"

"For what you did after the battle" Mordred spoke as quietly as always, "You took care of my body and treated it with respect - even after I failed you"

"You never failed me" Morgana said, head tilted upward in absolute confidence.

"We lost the war" he said mournfully, "we were not free"

"We lost a battle. But we did not lose all – Arthur died." She reassured him, not even certain herself if that was a good thing anymore. Then, irritatingly, it was Merlin who again sprang to mind. "And it might not have been us, but magic was free after that"

"But you said Arthur-"

She shook her head. "Not Arthur – Merlin." Mordred fell silent, brow furrowed.

"What are we doing back, Morgana?" he eventually asked, eyes prepared for the worst. He was the boy soldier of the war for magic, still waiting for orders even now.

"I don't know – I thought it was for revenge at first – but now I'm not so sure" she truthfully admitted.

"Merlin?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He knew the look on her face all too well.

"He has an irritating habit of getting inside your head, doesn't he?" Morgana sighed, shaking her troubled head. "I just don't know anymore" she got more violent as she thought about it, eventually tipping the chair over in frustration. "Why can't it be like it used to be?" she demanded.

"Things change" the boy reminded her. People do.

"Why do they have to?" she said sadly, "Things were so simple before. We had a purpose, an enemy, and we fought it. What is there for us now?"

"Redemption" Mordred answered simple, looking up with sudden clarity. "That's why I came to see you first"

Morgana met his gaze, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't fight anymore. This war, this hatred – I can no longer be a part of it. Arthur told me the truth about Kara – did you know he offered her a life in Camelot, with me, and she turned it down?"

"She was loyal to our cause" she ex-queen defended, the hurt in her eyes growing bigger.

"But that's the thing: in the end, I had stopped caring. I was happy to be a knight and try to make a difference – it was her I fought for in the end"

"And?"

"I thought Arthur killed her from spite, but I was wrong. He tried, my lady – and I killed him. I regret that."

"So you're saying what? That you're going running back to Arthur because he tried?" Morgana spat at him, moving forward to challenge him. "Have you forgotten all he's done – all he killed before that-" She broke off. "Oh," she breathed.

"What?" Mordred asked hesitantly, for the unhinged expression he had become accustomed to had just clicked back onto Morgana's face.

"Thank you Mordred," she said. "I'd forgotten, but you've made it very simple for me again."

"That was not my intention; I came to ask you for peace-"

"-then take you're peace and leave!" she screamed, the betrayal evident upon her face. "Betray me like everyone else has. But Arthur must die" she said very calmly, for things had fallen back together, like the pieces of a never ended puzzle.

"Morgana please, it doesn't have to end this way" he pleaded desperately.

"I said leave" the dark queen spoke coldly, an absence of emotion clear. "Before I change my mind about letting you live."

Mordred stood a second longer, pained. He wanted to fight on the right side this time – he had to make amends – even if it meant standing against his only family. "I'm so sorry" he breathed quietly. He turned on heel and walked away from someone he thought he ever would, heart heavily with the weight of a thousand burdens. Morgana, betrayed and broken and breathing although it was difficult to draw breath, was left standing in the dark: friendless; a grey statue in the dawn.

The sound of beating wings woke the King. Arthur's eyes snapped open, one word and one word only on his lips, "Merlin." His dash to the door woke the rest, and a group of sleep-deprived knights spilled out into the garden just as a huge white dragon landed on the grass. A figure jumped down from the side of it, walking under the wing before coming into view. "Merlin" Arthur said again, as did some of the others. It was more an instinct than a thought of movement that sent Arthur forwards until he reached his friend and wrapped him in a tight hug. The Warlock seemed surprised at the affection, his skinny frame stiffening, and then relaxing as he hugged his friend back. "I'm fine" the boy reassured him, stepping back just as Arthur punched him in the face.

"Ow" Merlin complained from the floor, rubbing his jaw, "What was that for?"

"Where have you been?" Arthur demanded, face red with rage. He hated that he cared so much and got so scared when Merlin was in danger. "What happened?"

"Perhaps that can wait for when we're inside" Gwen phrased it as a question, but from the look she sent him, Arthur knew not to cross a line. He nodded, back arching with frustration as he upturned his nose them marched back into the house. Gwaine offered Merlin a hand up, which the Warlock willingly accepted. "Now that's a way to travel" the young knight commented, nodding at the mighty dragon, noblest of all creatures.

"This is Aithusa" Merlin told him, relieved of the subject change. The rest of the knights had stayed awkwardly on the lawn, unsure what to do, but looked interested at that.

"It has a name?" Leon asked, walking forward to study the creature in fascination.

"Of course it does" Merlin answered, "I named her."

"You named her" they looked impressed and disbelieving.

"I am a Dragon Lord, you know" Merlin rolled his eyes, slightly grinning. He turned back to Aithusa and touched her nose, between her eyes, very softly. Her eyes were now huge and the bluest blue imaginable, so he spoke directly into them in her own language; the others watched on, unknowing of what he was saying in the strange tongue. Afterwards, the Dragon gathered her legs beneath her before launching herself into the air, heading north.

"Where is she going?" asked Gwen, kindly. The creature was beautiful, she thought. Dangerous and beautiful.

"I sent her to a friend– she'll know what to do" he replied, a faraway look on his face.

"Oh right, we met your 'friend' Freya" Gwen said, eyebrows questioningly rose as his head snapped towards her, and he blushed.

"Come on, Arthur will be waiting and you know how impatient he gets" Merlin said, embarrassedly walking away hastily; tripping over his own boots in the process. Upon hearing this, the knights giggled to themselves and exchanged looks with Gwen. "Shut up!" the young warlock yelled over his shoulder.

"So you're telling me that if you want your powers back, you have to forgive everything?" Arthur checked he had heard right as Merlin finished his story. "That's a bit girly, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it" Merlin muttered darkly, taking a swig of the drink he'd poured himself as they'd sat down. The whiskey burned his throat, and he relished it. Maybe he could 'forget' as Freya said, if he consumed enough of the amber liquid. Then again, he thought, there wasn't enough alcohol in the world to forget all of that. He sighed. "I'm sorry"

"For what?" Arthur asked, genuinely confused.

"I wish I could just do whatever I'm meant to do. I want to save you all, really I do. I just don't know how."

"That's nothing to be sorry for" the King told him honestly. The two men sat in the corner of Merlin's cottage, on armchairs by the fireplace. The knights were out on various tasks, leaving them time to 'talk'. "Perhaps you'd better worry about helping yourself before you even think about saving us"

Merlin rubbed his eyes, bleary in the afternoon light. "Maybe," he answered, "I just wish there was-"

"-an easy fix? Don't we all" Arthur laughed. "I'm sorry too, for all that I said on the beach."

Merlin waved the apology off "You don't have to be - you were right"

"But I shouldn't have said it that way, you deserve better" Merlin scoffed at this. "You do" Arthur said.

"You don't know everything, my lord" Merlin said, that same darkness creeping into his gaze, "the things I've done – no, I don't deserve better." The King made to protest, but Merlin raised his hand for silence. "But," the warlock continued, "I can made up for my past by saving you now – if only I knew how to fix my magic" The sorcerer slammed his fist angrily against the table between them, spilling their drinks. He put his head in his hands, a sign of pure hopelessness.

Arthur was astounded, for he had never seen such aggression from his friend. Merlin was always the kind one, the gentle one – the whimp, if he were honest. Perhaps Arthur did not know him so well after all. But he thinks that he knew him at his best, and that Merlin was still the greatest man he had ever had the privilege to know. Not that he'd ever tell him that.

"You're my friend" the King started, "and if I can help you, then I will. God knows it's my turn to save you for a change. If its forgiveness you need, do you want to uh, talk about your feelings?" Arthur was clearly uncomfortable with the subject, squirming and pulling a face even as he asked. He heard Merlin snicker, and finally the boy lifted his head. "No thanks Arthur," he laughed. They sat in silence for a while, so the King could not help but notice the change in his friend. There were lined carved deeply into Merlin's face where there hadn't been before, and those eyes of his, always so strikingly alive, looked heavy.

"Time has not been kind to you, my friend" Arthur commented with a thoughtful expression.

"Is it to anyone?" Merlin asked, surprised at the unusually deep remark.

"I suppose we'll have to wait and see."

The door did not blow in this time when Mordred came to call. He knocked, and Lancelot let him pass, watching him with suspicion. They entered the living room, where Arthur stood with his knights around the table, making plans. All eyes met his when he walked in, and Mordred felt exposed but stood his ground. He spoke certainly, determinedly. "I have come to ask to serve you, my lord. What I did was unforgivable, I know that. But I hope to find some relief in my troubled soul by repaying you with my service." A silence thick enough to form a fog filled the room, making it seem too small and stuffy. Everyone waited for Arthur's response, but before he could give it, Merlin entered the room. He had been sleeping, so looked confused; carrying a mug of strong black coffee in one hand. Upon seeing the unexpected guest, he dropped the cup, sending it smashing on the floor "Mordred."

"Merlin" The druid's jaw tightened at the same, but it was the more powerful old warlock who seemed the most affected. Merlin's face drained of colour, the coffee scorching his feet not even felt: he looked as if he had seen a ghost. Which quite frankly, he had - the spectre that taunted his dreams, stabbing Arthur over and over again in Merlin's nightmares. Standing right there. He struggled with himself for a moment, which Arthur clearly noticed for he suggested, "Perhaps you'd better wait outside, Merlin."

"Perhaps I'd better not" Merlin didn't even take his eyes of Mordred, unsure whether to flee or kill the boy where he stood. For now, he stood frozen between both.

"Merlin" Arthur said emotively, and the Warlock paused enough to look up into his friends open face. The King pleaded with his eyes for Merlin to understand – killing Mordred would solve nothing, and it certainly wouldn't help with the whole 'moving on' business.

The Warlock tried; really he did, to understand. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. But inevitably, a thousand years of pent up rage won out; too much time had caused too much pain to just 'let it go'. Before anyone could react, Mordred was sent flying through the window by a twitch of Merlin's finger. It seemed rage too was a good motivator for magic, but it would not last. The Warlock stormed through the door in pursuit of the Druid boy, who lay bloody on the grass. He looked up as Merlin approached only to find himself looking into piercing blue of eyes of only hate and spite and a burning fury. None of the compassion remained, it was gone. And Mordred, perhaps for the first time, was truly terrified of Merlin.

"Please" the young boy begged, blood leaking from the edge of his mouth, but his pleas were cut short by a shockingly good punch from Merlin. He hit him again, and again, and again, and again, until Mordred's blood coated his hands. With each blow, Mordred sank further from consciousness, beaten down and dying. And throughout it all, Merlin did not care. He could see Mordred was in pain, could feel his bones snapping and crunching, knowing he was the one causing it, but he just didn't care. He should have felt something – anything – but he just felt empty. He wasn't even angry. But after a thousand years torture, he was a empty shell.

It was after the fourth or fifth blow that the knights caught up to find him beating Mordred to a bloody pulp. They were horrified: Gwen even screamed. None had ever seen him like this. Being the King, and Merlin's closest friend, it was Arthur who approached and grabbed the assaulters arm as it was raised to take yet another blow. Merlin looked up at him sharply as Arthur grabbed him. "Let me go" The old sorcerer said, devoid of emotion. Even Arthur, who had thought it would never happen, was afraid of his friend. Still, he had to save him. Not Mordred – Merlin. If he let Merlin do this, there was no going back.

"No," Arthur said "Stop this now."

"I can't" breathed Merlin, shaking off the king and raising his fist again, cracked with the other man's blood. Arthur moved forwards, shoving Merlin back; placing himself between the Warlock and the Druid. Merlin looked enraged. "Move out of my way" he said very slowly.

"I can't do that, Merlin"

"I'm not asking" he said; voice cracking as he shook his head slightly.

"Then you'll have to go through me, because I won't let you do this" Arthur challenged. Merlin was his brother; he would not let him destroy himself. Surely his oldest friend would see sense? Arthur knew Merlin was not a bad man, or a violent one. But he was a damaged one. But causing more grief does not repair, it reopens old wounds.

Merlin choked, tears in his eyes glistening as he shook physically, "He killed you"

"I know" the King allowed.

"All this suffering, all these years – it's all because of him!" Merlin practically screamed, throat hoarse. All the rage and fear and anger buried deep inside for so long bubbled just beneath the surface now. All the memories clear as day.

"That's not true" Arthur pleaded, no longer afraid. "Everything that's happened to you, and I am truly sorry for what's happened to you: it is the result of circumstance; destiny; the world's cruel joke – no one man"

Merlin's shoulders dropped, face wrenched as an overwhelming grief settled onto his features. Even before he had used magic to be young again, when he had met an old man at Avalon that first day, Arthur had never seen his friend look so old than at that moment. The years, and there had been so many, weighed upon his face all at once; it must have been unbearable for one man to carry so much. The Warlock looked up, shattered in spirit, talking honestly for the first time since Arthur had returned. "A thousand years, Arthur"

"I know"

"No," Merlin said bitterly, "You don't. I have lived too long. Saw too much that I can never forget. And at the end of the day, when everything around me burned and only ashes remained, what was left? Me. Alone. For all of that time." Merlin took a few steps forward, but Arthur stood his ground. "People keep telling me to 'let it go' and 'forgive' but how could they understand?" He grabbed the front of Arthur's collar, shouting it into his face, exploding. The King wasn't scared at all; he was just devastated to see his friend that way; to feel so helpless to make it better. "He started all of this," Merlin pointed at Mordred, who knelt on the ground, face deformed, bleeding profusely. "It all came after that, after he killed you - after I held you as you died and knew I had failed."

"You didn't fail"

"Don't" Merlin spat, like a drunk but with grief as his intoxication. "It all began with him, and you, you're telling me to let him go?! Do you know what it is like to see everyone you love die? Because when you live a hundred lifetimes, that's all living becomes – waiting for those dearest to leave you alone, without hope, over and over again." Even Arthur felt a tear escape down his face at this, the pure loss in his friend's eyes too much to take. To live that life would be a nightmare.

"Please Merlin, don't just hear me – listen. Mordred, he might have made the cut, but it was time, and fate, that killed me. He is just a man. We all are. But you're more than that – you have saved us, saved me, so many times. Merlin, I'm begging you, let me save you this one time."

The Warlock let tears steadily drench his face, as Arthur clung to his sleeves to hold him up. "I've lost so much" Merlin breathed, holding on like his life depended on it.

"Look at him" Arthur said, nodding to Mordred. His friend complied, and to his horror saw not the monster parents warn their children of, but a man, nothing more. Merlin's mouth fell open, "what have I done?"

"Acted like a human" Arthur reassured him, knowing in his heart Merlin was not evil or even cruel. "He's just a man, but so are you. Merlin," the King shook him, so their eyes met, "Be better than this. Be the man I know you are: it is time to stop fighting." The Warlock, still the greatest, sank to his knees, and his King fell alongside him. He struggled, inner demons possessing his every urge to just finish Mordred off. But instead, he took a deep breath; it was done.

Merlin reached out a hand to Mordred, who flinched in freight. Touch a hand to his forehead, the Warlocks eyes glowed, and the Druid was healed. The only evidence that he was ever injured was the dried blood staining Merlin's hands. Mordred looked up; his young innocent face so childlike. "Thank you" he whispered. With a look from the King, he got to his feet, walking to the edge where the knights watched on. Merlin remained still on the ground, eyes closed, focused on breathing. On letting go with every breath. Lifetimes flashed before his eyes, burnt onto his eyelids, then he breathed out; they floated away. Remembering hurt, but it was a good kind, the kind that means a change. As he breathed his last, he whispered a spell quietly, and from the spot from where Arthur watched, concerned, a bright light shone out. Brighter than anything he'd ever produced before, the Warlock slowly rose. It was the legendary moment; he had never risen so high. The King retreated a few steps. Merlin stood, eyes closed as light surrounded him, winding from his hands around his body.

Maybe that light was his soul.

Maybe it was just a spell.

I guess the truth will never be truly known.

But as Merlin's eyes opened, such a light shone out as this world has never known. Golden and burning fiercely and beautiful. Strength surged in the bones of all present, like the witnessing of a miracle, it gave them new life. The rebirth of Emrys, of Merlin, was complete. He forgave, after a long time, he finally forgave. And he found the strength he needed in that, as he was promised he would. The fire faded from his eyes, changing back to their usual storm coloured hue. He was back to his full power. He would save them.

Merlin was back.