17 Tears of gold
Crying openly Minnie's husband stammered through his desperate pleas for mercy for his wife. It had been an accident, Minnie had only tried to help, not for the life of hers she would ever have harmed the little Princess, surely His Majesty would know that?
The two soldiers busied themselves by alternately pushing and shoving the crestfallen, sobbing man, eager to avoid taking part of the blame for the Crown Princess' death. After all, a soldier had been holding Margaly when the wretched peasant woman had stumbled... best not to remind the King of that little detail.
Arthur had neither thought nor pity for Minnie or her husband. All he could see or hear right now was his little daughter lying in front of him, motionless, her little face smeared with blood and some matter he didn't want to think about. He whispered her name, again and again. "Margaly..."
Behind him, a few steps away, Gwaine watched the scene with a cramp in his chest. "How much more" he thought. "How much more before he snaps?"
In spite of appearances, Gwaine had never been a careless, hare-brained idiot by nature. Just sometimes by his own free choice. Life was easier for an idiot, or so he'd thought.
But he no longer was his own man, he'd become part of something bigger, of a community named Camelot and of a bunch of people who for some stupid reason seemed to think that caring and standing up for each other meant something in this world.
As such, his sympathy for the young royal kneeling in the grass made Gwaine much more clear-sighted than he liked to be.
A whole chain of thoughts ran through his brain, aligning what he had seen tonight with Gwaine's experience in life. With people, circumstances and how they both connected.
One thing was certain: A miracle had occurred. Somehow Arthur had won an unwinnable war: Camelot had defeated the Isle of the Blessed in open battle. And yet, when the two Camelot guard soldiers wrestled with Minnie so very haplessly, Arthur had taken off his helmet one, god-damned second too late to save his daughter's life.
The irony was, nobody would care about that. Margaly's death was just collateral damage. Unlike Uther's records, the victory Arthur had achieved today was not marred by betrayal, or an unprovoked pre-emptive strike, or any other dishonourable conduct on Pendragon's side.
After today, no Kingdom in Albion could ignore that one big power had risen in their midst. These last hours, this gruesome, horrid slaughterhouse of a day and a night, would bring the High Kings' Crown to Arthur's head.
"Imagine" Gwaine thought bitterly "how very much Arthur would want to trade the pretty bauble for his little girl!"
The knight heard heavy breathing in his back and a soft whimpering. Lance still held Galahad in his arms and the child was waking up.
The only child Arthur Pendragon had left.
The wrong child, by all respects which up to now were known to only a small circle.
Yet, it was the baptised child, not the daughter of the Isle, who would live on. The Christian child.
The significance of that fact could not be overrated. History is written by the winner and what people believe is much more important than facts.
The Isle had chosen the path of violence freely, so anyone would say and, in the end, believe. As the Isle had declared an unprovoked war on Christianity, Arthur had fought and won in the name of Christianity against the insurgents from the Old Religion.
With that, fate had chosen Arthur's path for him.
No more balancing the Old and the New Religion, no more compromises between magicians' traditions and Christian beliefs, no more bartering about Council Membership or the balance of fiefdoms - Arthur's and Morgana's enlightened idea of a peaceful union of the two faiths was dead.
Human avarice, human frailty had killed it in favour of another concept that was not enlightened at all. But this concept was liked well enough, and craved for, time and again, whenever and wherever people got frightened - One King, one God, one Country.
A Golden Age for the one half at the expense of the other, sealed by the blood of thousands of good men as well as that of one helpless, innocent little girl.
Gwaine tasted bile on his tongue. Idiots, bloody, dimwitted, foolish idiots! For all their magic, for all their power, for all their centuries old knowledge, the Isle had simply, childishly played into the hands of Erec and the likes of him.
Merlin, where were you when you were most needed, by magicians and non-magicians alike? Why weren't you there, to tell them all where they can stick their darn foolishness?
Without you, a handful of fanatics on both sides and an old man's nitwit scheme for warming his bed with a young woman's body had sufficed to achieve what Uther Pendragon had desired in vain - the total annihilation of the Old Religion.
All these years you fought for your great destiny, Merlin, my friend, and now all we've got is a heap of shards.
Time to sweep up behind you, young warlock, Gwaine decided. And I'll start with the new Crown Prince of Camelot. Galahad Pendragon, may the Great Mother have mercy on the poor brat and on his father.
Gwaine knew he couldn't spare Arthur much of what was to come but one, tiny thing he could do – avoid another discussion about Galahad's father and Arthur's marriage to the good, pious and oh so very Christian Lady Guinivere.
Resolutely the knight turned, grabbed the little boy before Lance could react, walked over and without so much as one word shoved the child unto Arthur's lap.
Lance yelled his protest and leaped forward, but he froze when Gwaine's hand was in his hairs and his knife was at the enraged Baron's throat. "Listen, Lance and listen carefully" Gwaine hissed through bared teeth, "go back to the citadel, take what's left of your men, get the hell out of here and if in future one, just one, breath of scandal stems from you, I swear I'll cut your damned heart out of you while it's still beating!"
Lancelot hesitated. He was good, he knew that. Very good. He could defeat Gwaine. Kill him, even now.
But then, what?
Kill Arthur?
Kill the soldiers, the still unconscious woman, her wobbling husband, kill all witnesses to the outrageous murder?
Sure, why not.
But how to explain the killings to the people in Camelot?
With Arthur being slain when no enemies had been around, suspicion would rise. Rumours would spread and in the end, people would remember talk that Galahad had not one drop of Pendragon blood in his veins.
People would remember who had profited from the child's ascension to the throne.
Panting with the effort it cost to restrain his fury, Lancelot let go of the sword hilt, smiled and raised both hands in surrender. "It's all right, Gwaine. You win. Just let me go. I came to help, remember?"
"Like a snake comes to deliver its poison" Gwaine snarled. "I've falsely trusted you once, I do not make the same mistake twice. Get lost!"
And, unbelievably for Gwaine, Lance did just that.
Gwaine had a sick feeling in his guts. He who lives and runs away may yet fight another day. He should have killed Lancelot and thought of a good excuse later.
However, he had no time to ponder that. The sound of a horse galloping off at top speed made him turn round abruptly, just in time to see Arthur depart, with Galahad in his arm and Margaly's little body over the saddle in front of him.
Gwaine roared in shock at the two unfortunate soldiers who had let go of Minnie's husband. "Where's the King going, you assholes? Can't you fucking see the man doesn't know what he's doing!"
"Sor... sorry, Sir, My Lord, but the King – demanded to be left alone. The child... I don't know..."
"No, for sure you don't know anything, you noodle. What about these two?" Gwaine pointed at Minnie, who was just about to come to, and her man by her side.
"I.. don't know" the guard stammered again. "The dungeons, perhaps?"
"Take them to Gaius to have a look at the woman. Tell him it's by my order. You have horses available?"
"Yes, Sir. Behind the bushes. Two."
"No" Gwaine said menacingly "one. I take the other."
The last he saw of the two soldiers was both of them heaving an injured Minnie on the horse and lead the sorry little caravan away towards the citadel, to whatever safety and comfort it could offer.
After that, Gwaine concentrated fully on not loosing sight of Arthur.
He chased after the young King, who didn't turn or otherwise show he knew he was followed, until they reached a piece of woodland too dense for the mounts.
Arthur left his horse tethered to a tree and entered the forest on foot, still with both children. A moment later, Gwaine followed suit.
Arthur fought his way through the brushwood with great resolve but no visible purpose. "What are you up to, my boy?" a bewildered Gwaine muttered to himself.
After a few more minutes, Arthur left the undergrowth and stepped into a clearing with a well springing from some rock. The trees, which had so far created a roof over their heads too tight even for the bright early morning light to come through, gave way and opened up for a look at the light blue sky.
Tenderly, Arthur laid down both kids in the grass.
"Dragon" he suddenly shouted. "Where are you? If Merlin sent you, as I know he can, you must come to me."
"Now that will be heard, I'm sure" Gwaine thought, amused in spite of the dire circumstances. "Shouldn't you be a Dragonlord for that?"
He almost fell on his back when gigantic wings flapped, the sunlight was darkened by a huge shadow sinking down and then the magnificent beast sat once more directly in front of the King of Camelot. "You called for me as I knew you would, King Arthur" Khilgarrah said calmly.
Pendragon was tensed up; Gwaine, just four or five metres away hidden in the brushwood, saw the erect back tremble under the chain-mail.
"Then you will also know what I want" Arthur said boldly. "Give me back my child!"
"This" the Dragon said placidly "I cannot do!"
"You are a creature of magic, the most powerful creature of all. I was magically conjured up in my mother's womb, I know you can create life, so you can also give it back."
Khilgarrah lowered his mighty head until his eyes were almost at level with the desperate human gaze. "There was a spark of life already there, young King, in your father's body as well as in your mother's. It was this spark that was kindled into the flame that would one day become you. And yet Nimueh had no right to do what she did. It was against the laws of nature."
"Because my mother was not meant to have a son? Because I wasn't meant to live?"
Sadly, the Dragon shook his head. "No, nothing of that. No blame was or is with you. Yet the High Priestess knew that for one life to be given, one life must be taken, no magic in this world can change that. And who was she, or Uther Pendragon, to make that choice?"
Arthur swallowed hard before he could go on. "Who made the choice that my mother was to die for me? Was it my father?"
"Nature chose" Khilgarrah sighed. "Or call it fate, or God or whatever word takes your fancy. Uther Pendragon knew he uttered a death sentence for an innocent human being when he ordered your creation. But he did not guess it would be his wife. If he had, things would be different today."
"He loved my mother?" Arthur whispered, and it sounded very wistful.
Khilgarrah answered very gravely. "I've known your father for a very long time and there wasn't much love in his heart but for himself and for his power. Yet if your father ever loved another person at all then this person was Igraine."
"Then in my mother's name" Arthur pleaded, "in the name of the love she received and gave, in the name of the Old Religion itself that lives or dies with my daughter, I beg you again, to give me back my child!"
The dragon raised his head. "You would repeat your father's crime and say who should live and who should die for no crime of his own?"
"No" Arthur replied calmly. "I went out to bring peace to Camelot but I cannot do it. I, my name, my family, am at the heart of all quarrel in the land. Give us, give me, peace, Khilgarrah. Let Margaly live. Take my life instead."
"That" the Dragon said again "I cannot do. Merlin and Morgana took fate in their own hands and changed it. I can no longer see your destiny, only that it hasn't been fulfilled yet. You must live. I must not interfere."
Arthur nodded. Then he unsheathed Excalibur and aimed the blade at his own heart. "I'm sorry" he said. "But I think the decision is for me to make."
"It will be useless" the Dragon warned. "The sacrifice will be in vain!"
"I don't think so!"
"You will not bring about your child's resurrection without my help, young Pendragon. And I will not lend my hand to your destruction. However, there is perhaps " Khilgarrah said silkily "one other possibility."
"Which one?" Arthur said hastily.
Gwaine, shuddering in his hiding place, knew the answer even before the dragon said it: "Your Majesty has brought another child adorned with the Pendragon crest. Galahad's blood would reconcile fate. I might offer his life to the Great Mother in exchange for your daughter's."
"No!" Arthur screamed it. "You can't demand that of me!"
"He's not what he should be, little Galahad, is he. For all his healthy looks when he was born."
"I know he will never be a knight, I know he's deaf, he will never talk, his eyesight is limited, he will never wield a blade! And yet..."
"And yet...?" Khilgarrah tempted.
"And yet he is my son" Arthur shouted despairingly.
"Is he? Are you so very sure of that?"
Arthur looked down at the little boy in the grass at his feet. Excalibur sparkled in the rays of sunlight. Galahad kicked his legs in the air. He smiled at the face above him. Nothing but friendliness had come from these features to him, he knew it.
The King took an eternity to just stare at the happily gurgling child while Gwaine held his breath. "Do it, Arthur" he thought spontaneously. "Do it now. The boy will be miserable all his life anyway, his death would be a second chance. To bring magic back to Camelot in peace was Merlin's quest in life, his mission, please, do not let him down as I have done!"
By now, Khilgarrah seemed quite bored. "Your decision, Your Majesty. Which child should live and which should die? I'm waiting."
Arthur sheathed his blade, picked up both his children and looked at the Great Dragon. "My father" he said with an effort "was right after all – the power magic gives will corrupt the strongest hearts in the end. Merlin must have been the exception that proves the rule. Perhaps even he, if he had lived longer, he and my sister..."
The King halted, his head half raised towards the Dragon. Waiting, apparently. Perhaps waiting for an answer that never came. Khilgarrah kept his silence about the warlock's fate, and that of his Queen.
With a shrug, Arthur turned his back on the Dragon and only when he walked away, he spoke again. "You're banned from my realm, on pain of death. If you ever return, I will hunt you down, like my father before me, and this time you will die!"
"I hear you" the Dragon answered. "And I will heed your command. Tomorrow night will find me out of your reach, forever."
The King nodded curtly, then he left.
Gwaine wanted to follow him, but found he couldn't move. Whatever he tried with gritted teeth and all his strength, it didn't help.
"Patience, Sir Knight" the Dragon said with mild amusement as soon as Arthur was out of earshot. "You've done enough stalking for one day. Merlin, too, had some trouble respecting the word 'privacy' sometimes."
"You have no right to lecture me" Gwaine retorted angrily. "Not after what you did to Arthur a moment ago."
"You weren't averse, I heard your thoughts."
"So much for privacy then" Gwaine spat.
Khilgarrah giggled. To Gwaine's utmost, breathtaking fascination, the huge beast actually giggled. "You were wrong, Sir Knight, by the way. Merlin would never have condoned the sacrifice of Galahad or of any other child. Killing children was not his vision of bringing magic back to Camelot. Nor mine."
Aggressively, Gwaine broke through the shrubs out to the clearing. "Then what was all this about, eh? Why the torment, if you didn't mean it?"
"If Arthur had tried to kill the boy, I'd prevented it. I was only testing the young King."
"Testing him! Testing him? For the Gods' sake, hasn't he been tested enough? First his father's betrayal, the ordeal of Osric's ritual, then his wife abandons him, one of his friends betrays him, others abandon him at the first sign of trouble, Camelot is in shambles again and again, whatever he tries to keep it safe, Merlin and Morgana are gone, now his child is dead and you think the man needs to be tested?"
"It seems that you have not abandoned him, Sir Knight. And I somehow think you are a very good friend to him. He'll need you before the month is out."
Gwaine raised his hands in a plea he did not really know he was making. "Arthur doesn't need me, or Leon or any other knight. He needs Merlin. We all do. Send him back to us, please. Without him, Camelot will perish. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I know it is inevitable."
Khilgarrah shuffled his claws on the ground. He seemed... touched. And, unbelievable again in a creature such as he, he looked powerless and even vulnerable. "It's over" he finally said. "The hope we all had, Merlin's quest in life – it is over. After this stupid, senseless war, magic no longer has a place in Albion. Arthur has to choose sides, and he has chosen. In the shadow of the Christian churches, Merlin would be a liability to the King of Camelot and High King of Albion."
"What has happened to Merlin and Morgana" Gwaine asked. "Can't you tell me that at least?"
The Great Dragon shook his head once more. "The Old Religion's era is finished" he said "Magic has to hide and wait for another, warmer world to come. When people's minds are open, and their hearts more welcoming. When the carpenter and others like him will not be used as pawns for power."
Khilgarrah readied his wings. "Come new moon, tomorrow, at midnight, the Isle of the Blessed will fade away from this realms and I will join it. Farewell, Sir Knight. Chances are, we'll never meet again. Take care of your King, in your friend, the warlock's, name."
Gwaine screamed at the top of his lungs. "Can't you for once spare a mere human the ethereal blabbering and just give me a straight answer!"
"I've told you all there is to tell, Sir Knight. Give Gaius my regards. We were good friends once, in better times..."
Despairing, Gwaine saw the dragon vanish in the clouds.
He let his head sink to his chest for a moment.
What a day it had been.
Gwaine walked back to where he had left his horse, only to find two mounts grazing.
Arthur was sitting on a sunny spot in the grass, softly cooing to Galahad, who seemed much pleased. Not by the sound, of course. But by the attention he got and by the gentle hands that cuddled him.
Gwaine winced violently when his gaze fell on Margaly's corpse lying by Galahad's side.
It seemed so wrong, somehow.
"You took your time" Arthur said.
"Talking to a dragon can be very distracting" Gwaine replied awkwardly.
The King rose, looked briefly at Gwaine with a cocked brow, and pushed Galahad into the other's arms. "Let's go, Sir Gwaine" he said whilst mounting his horse with Margaly. "We have a funeral to prepare."
"That applies to a lot of people in Camelot" Gwaine retorted when he followed.
"They are burying loved ones or neighbours" Arthur replied. "We are going to bury a dream tonight. Merlin's dream."
Unwittingly Gwaine fingered the much frayed symbol of the Round Table on his torn tunic. "What about your dreams, Sire?"
Arthur looked at the little body in his arms and Gwaine didn't ask again.
Only when they reached Camelot's outer gates – or what was left of them in their hinges – Gwaine couldn't stay quiet any longer. "How could you ever forgive me?" he asked. "If Merlin and Morgana had been here, if I hadn't left them behind..."
"What if" Arthur interrupted him coldly whilst dismounting "is a futile game for scholars. It won't bring bread on our tables nor roofs over our heads. I suggest you roll up your sleeves and maybe we've got so much work, we can forget that we both can never forgive ourselves."