A/N: So there I was, innocently looking for the Old English word for "forever" when I came across the word "ealdor." As in, like Merlin's hometown Ealdor. Turns out the word "ealdor" directly translates into "age/old age/eternity/always/forever." And to make this even worse, the definition came with the tag, "not only with regard to the duration of life but also in general for an unlimited period of time." UNLIMITED PERIOD OF TIME.
I have no idea if the Merlin writers meant to foreshadow the ending of the show like that on purpose, but still...
Ealdor. Old age. Always. Forever. Unlimited period of time. Right, I'll be off in a corner sobbing now. Here, have a chapter of Merlin and Arthur being awesome to distract you.
Chapter Thirteen: The Dawning of Albion
Although Arthur liked to say that knights of Camelot never ran from a fight, he knew that sometimes retreating was the best strategy. So long as the kingdom was not at stake, if his knights were heavily outnumbered and outmatched, there was no shame in ordering a retreat. Still, Arthur could count on one hand the number of times he had made such an order.
In one of those battles, he and his knights had been faced with an army of archers. Arrows had swarmed down from the sky like bees kicked from their nest, felling men left and right before any could get close to the enemy. Arthur had been much younger then, and not as battle-hardened, and the images of skewered eyeballs and punctured lungs still populated his nightmares. That battle had barely begun before Arthur had issued a retreat, recognizing that his knights were not shielded enough to have a chance at succeeding.
This moment felt much like that battle.
Arthur ran through the camp like he had never run before, Merlin on his heels. Spells zipped past them, burning holes in tents and trees like acid, and Merlin occasionally shouted back ancient-sounding words that made Arthur shiver. They dashed through the camp in a mad zigzag as more people joined in the chase, their spells forcing Arthur and Merlin to veer around them.
They were never going to make it to the gate, Arthur thought desperately as the ground exploded near his feet, sending showers of debris at his face. The achingly familiar wall of Camelot loomed just ahead of them, but the gate was still ages away. Sorcerers were hemming him and Merlin in on all sides, driving them towards the wall and away from the gate.
They were not too far from the wall when Merlin tripped spectacularly, somersaulting twice before sprawling flat on his face. Arthur turned around and hauled him back upright, only for Merlin to knock them both back down to avoid a wave of something dark soaring just above their heads.
By the time both men returned to their feet, they were completely surrounded. There must have been at least two hundred in the crowd now, a few swinging weapons, most with flames in their hands. Arthur saw their faces—faces of desperate men, weary women, battle-worn youths, all of them with anger or hatred or both in their eyes —and knew that they would settle for nothing less than his blood.
At Arthur's side, Merlin was leaning on his knees, gasping for air. The gash on his head dripped down his face as he shook his head. "No, no, no, no…"
Arthur's voice came out in a heavy croak. "Merlin, promise me you'll take care of Guinevere—"
"No. You're not going to die. Stay back!" He called the last bit out to the crowd, stepping in front of Arthur—and wasn't that just backwards, Arthur thought hysterically—and holding out his arms.
The mob either didn't hear him or didn't care. Dozens of spells left dozens of lips, and Arthur braced himself, thinking at least he had died within sight of Camelot's walls.
"Scildan!" Merlin roared.
Arthur's ears popped and he nearly fell over as the onslaught of spells crashed into something he couldn't see. The earth trembled and the very air seemed to be rocking around him, quivering under enormous pressure. Spells fizzled out of existence at the edge of whatever magical barrier Merlin had created, dissipating like smoke touching water.
And at the center of it all stood Merlin, shoulders bowed as if carrying a boulder on his back, arms held straight out to either side, eyes blazing brighter than any of the spells thrown at the shield. Arthur could see his knees buckling. He put a hand on the Merlin's shoulder, unsure if Merlin even knew he was there, but wanting to do something to help him. Merlin stood a little straighter at the contact, so it must have helped, but all Arthur could do was numbly watch as Merlin kept death away from him.
After a minute or so, the barrage of magic came with less ferocity, until finally the last spell sputtered away. Merlin gasped a ragged breath as his eyes faded to blue and immediately swiveled to check on Arthur. The king squeezed his shoulder, and Merlin's eyes closed in relief.
"Emrys," someone cried, and the crowd erupted into a buzz of conversation. While some in the crowd did not react to the name, more than half did. Of those, some faces twisted in confusion, some in awe, while yet others just looked furious.
Merlin did not deny or confirm his identity, just took a deep breath, stood a little taller, and faced his palms forward. "You can't have him. Let us pass."
Some kind of green flames streaked through the air towards Merlin's shield. This time, Merlin's hand jerked to the side, and the flames ricocheted off in the opposite direction. The original caster threw his arms up to protect his face and yelled as his own flames seared him.
"I said, let us pass!" Merlin cried, his voice hitching as he raised his palms higher. "I don't want to hurt you!"
But he would, Arthur saw. Merlin would take on every single one of these people for Arthur if he had to. And he might even win. He would hate himself for it, but he would.
This was all wrong.
Arthur pulled at his shoulder. "Merlin, stop."
"They're trying to kill you, I can't let them, I've got to do something..."
"Not like this. They're my people, and I've failed them. Let me speak."
Merlin hesitated, but must have seen the determination in the king's eyes, because he finally took a respectful step back. Arthur nodded his thanks before taking a deep breath and stepping forward to address the infuriated mob. He could tell from the way the air rippled that Merlin's shield was still there, but that did little to quell his thundering heart.
"I'm King Arthur of Camelot," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "And I don't want to fight you. I am not your enemy."
The crowd filled with scoffs and jeers.
Still, Arthur pressed on, encouraged that at least none of them had tried to attack. "I have not attacked you unprovoked. I have not executed anyone for magic since ascending to the throne. I have not conducted raids on druid settlements."
"You've killed our kind!" a voice shouted. "You and your father!"
Arthur swallowed. "I know. I know my father persecuted you. And it was wrong. I was wrong. For all you have suffered, I am truly sorry. I know that nothing I can do may make up for what has been done to you and your people, but I intend to at least try. And that is why I am going to repeal the laws banning magic, so that peace and prosperity can be extended to all of Camelot's citizens."
Every eye in the crowd was on him now, and the silence was absolute.
"Ever since I became king, I have striven to build a kingdom where its people could live without fear. But I know now that I have failed that in every respect, because I have failed you. My father raised me with the belief that all magic was evil, and growing up I saw no reason to doubt him. I have seen magic used for great evil…"
He glanced quickly at Merlin, who was standing as rapt as any in the crowd, "But now I know that I have also seen it used for great good. I ask for that goodness now. If you destroy Camelot, you would be justified. I know Camelot has hurt you. But if you do, know this: there will never be peace in this kingdom. You attack, and maybe you'll win, or maybe you'll lose. Either way, the people within those walls, the people that believe as I once did that magic is something to be feared, not respected—they will only have those fears confirmed. They will not accept you, the Purge will rage on, more will die, and you will be forced to attack again. This entire land will spiral into an endless cycle of vengeance and bloodshed."
A few murmurs emerged from the mob—his audience, now—but all stood completed riveted.
"I don't want that. Instead, I want to build a kingdom where no one is persecuted, regardless of their abilities. A kingdom where magic roams free once more. A kingdom where its citizens are united in peace and loyalty. But I can't do that without your help."
An older woman with a hardened face stepped forward. A series of swirls was painted on her neck, and Arthur recognized the druid symbol. "A Pendragon's word is worth nothing. How do we know you aren't just trying to save your own skin? That you won't just turn on us the moment you're back behind your walls?"
A couple of shouts agreed. Arthur held his head high, ignoring the way his stomach twisted. He'd been afraid of that. "All I ask is that you give me a chance to build the kingdom I spoke of. If you truly think killing me now where I stand will bring a greater peace, then go ahead. I offer myself for Camelot. Just let my friend live. Merlin, lower the shield."
Behind him, Merlin choked. "What?! Arthur—"
Arthur did not dare look back at him; if he did, his resolve might waver. "Lower the shield."
"No! No, I can't—"
Arthur braced himself, then turned to face his friend. Merlin's breath was starting to come in short, shallow gasps as he shook his head disbelievingly. He looked more terrified than Arthur had ever seen him, and Arthur hated himself for what he was about to do.
"You said you trusted me with your life. Now I'm asking you to trust me with mine."
"Arthur, please don't…"
"Trust me."
Merlin stared back at him for a long time, and Arthur wondered if Merlin, like he always did, knew what Arthur was thinking: That he had to make this right, even if the cost was his life. That he knew now what that would do to Merlin, and he was sorry.
Slowly, painfully, Merlin lowered his arms, and the air stopped shimmering.
Arthur turned back to face the shocked woman and the silent crowd around her. "I do not ask for forgiveness. I only ask for a chance so that I can make this right. Do you accept?"
He held his palms out in supplication, and waited.
The next few seconds were the longest Arthur had ever experienced as he waited for someone, anyone to answer. The faces around him studied him intently, looking for deceit, but no one moved. He could hear his own heart pounding like a hammer on armor. Somehow he knew without turning his head that Merlin was wringing his hands and trembling.
Ten seconds passed, then fifteen, then twenty, with not a sound. Arthur lowered his hands and exhaled.
Then an orange streak flashed before his eyes. Arthur felt his lungs seize, heard Merlin scream his name, knew his friend would be too late—
The spell veered to hit the earth with a boom inches from Arthur's feet, scorching the ground black. Arthur sprung back out of instinct. Merlin was still reaching for him; his eyes held a strange mixture of terror, fury, and relief. Arthur knew from that look that Merlin had not caused any of the magic.
Someone in the crowd had attacked the king, but someone else in the crowd had deflected it.
The next moment seemed to unleash a maelstrom of spells, as the members of the crowd shouted and pointed and countless pairs of eyes flashed gold. Arthur could not tell who was friend or foe, but it seemed to be at least evenly divided, because somehow not a spell touched him.
Within these seconds of absolute chaos, Merlin snatched a fistful of Arthur's shirt and yanked him into a bolt towards the castle wall. Somehow they were moving faster through the crowd than Arthur thought possible, as if time itself had slowed to a crawl around them. He thought Merlin might have been yelling something, but the entire world seemed to be moving too quickly to process. Arthur barely registered the motion of his own feet or the dazzling lights exploding all around him. All he knew was Merlin propelling him straight towards the great stone walls of Camelot.
The enormous wall towered above them and Arthur realized with a detached sort of terror that Merlin was not slowing, so neither was he. They were going to crash into the wall, and Arthur braced himself for impact—
They smashed through the wall like it wasn't even there, stones crumbling around them as they tumbled to the ground.
Arthur laid there a moment, too winded to budge, but Merlin was already back on his feet, arms spread and frantically murmured words on his lips. The rubble around them launched through midair, flying back towards the hole in the castle wall too quickly for the eye to follow. By the time Arthur returned to his feet, he could only watch as the last stone magically slid back into place.
Then Merlin pressed his hands up against the wall and began to chant. "Wyrth gatu faest, agaele hie thurh minum gewealde ond minum maegen. Gestrenge me nu thaet ic beo swithe mihtig hie to forwiernan. Wyrth gatu faest, agaele hie…"
Arthur watched as a blue glow swept from Merlin's hands and radiated through the stones. He could almost feel the magic whispering, pulsing through the air like a tangible force. And through it all, Merlin stood there, chanting quietly but confidently. At that moment, he looked every inch the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth.
Then the incantation ended, Merlin staggered away from the wall, and the moment was broken. Arthur reached out a hand to steady him, and Merlin all but collapsed.
Arthur gave him a shake, equally awed, worried, and exasperated. How he'd never noticed Merlin doing magic when it seemed to make him swoon at every turn, Arthur had no idea. "Merlin?"
"You absolute clotpole," Merlin mumbled. His eyes had been sliding shut, but they blinked open as Arthur shook him. The faraway look in his eyes quickly sharpened to anger. "You absolute clotpole. You nearly died."
"I noticed, Merlin."
"If you ever do something that stupid again…"
"You'll turn me into a toad, I suppose."
Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "…Just don't do that again."
Arthur managed a weak smile as he wrapped Merlin's arm around his shoulders. "Can't make any promises. Besides, I thought I existed to make your life difficult?"
"You do. You really, really do..."
"Sire?!"
Arthur and Merlin both flinched; Arthur was sure if Merlin hadn't needed to lean on him the warlock would have bolted. Slowly, they both turned to face the small group of knights gathered not ten feet away. They must have been patrolling and hurried towards the racket of Merlin smashing through the wall.
Arthur only barely registered a flicker of relief as he took in which knights they were: Leon, whose eyes were bulging; Percival, who was blinking owlishly; Elyan, whose mouth was open; Gwaine, who looked as if he'd been punched in the gut; and Owain, an older knight on the brink of retirement who nearly dropped his sword in shock.
It was Leon who had spoken; he softly repeated, "Sire, what…what is this?"
Arthur drew himself up as much as he could while still supporting Merlin. "An excellent question, Sir Leon. Merlin?"
Merlin's voice was faint and jittery. His eyes darted from side-to-side. "A shield. Wards. I've warded the wall. Sealed it shut so no one can enter."
Arthur's kingly demeanor slipped for moment. "What, the whole thing? All around Camelot?"
"Yeah."
"That's…impressive," Arthur said, reeling a bit at Merlin's power while fishing desperately for a way to convince his knights to accept Merlin—or at the very least, not harm him.
"It'll last until morning at least," Merlin added in a desperate tone bordering on hysteria. "Maybe even longer. Morgana will break through eventually, but at least you've got till morning. It's meant to last longer but I've only been working on the wards for a month and it usually takes years—"
"Sorcery," Owain murmured, raising his sword a bit more. Merlin shrank back as much as he could.
"Yes," Arthur snapped, "Sorcery. Sorcery that has saved my life countless times tonight. Sorcery that is right now protecting this entire castle and everyone in it. Sorcery that I intend to make legal as soon as possible. In the meantime, any man who lays a hand on Merlin will lose it. Do I make myself clear?"
The knights all stared in silence for a moment. Finally, Gwaine sheathed his sword and stepped forward. "Perfectly. And I'll do the chopping-limbs-off bit myself. Alright there, Merlin?"
Merlin seemed to sag under the weight of so many stares. "I'm fine."
"You don't look it, mate."
"I'm fine," Merlin repeated stubbornly. He looked very much like he was considering making the street swallow him.
One by one, the knights all sheathed their swords with varying degrees of shame and wariness.
"Right," Arthur said briskly, "Owain, Gwaine, and Percival, gather our forces and relay my orders. I want scouts patrolling the walls, but no one is to attack their forces unless the wall is actually breached. Anyone not absolutely necessary for patrolling is ordered to rest until morning. Tell them a sorcerer is protecting Camelot, but tell no one it is Merlin." He glared at each of the men in turn, emphasizing that last bit as much as he could. Merlin was hardly in the shape to defend himself right now, and the last thing he needed was some well-meaning knight trying to kill a sorcerer so close to the king.
"You want them to sleep, sire?" Owain repeated incredulously.
"Merlin says no one can enter the city until morning, and I believe him. If the men are to fight in the morning, they'll need their rest. Now go."
Owain, suitably chagrined, quickly rushed away. Gwaine looked ready to protest leaving Merlin's side, but Percival placed a hand on Gwaine's shoulder and shook his head. Both knights reluctantly followed after Owain.
"Elyan, run ahead and tell the kitchens I want two enormous plates of food delivered to Gaius's chambers immediately. Then find Guinevere and tell her of my safe return." Elyan nodded, spared a worried glance at Merlin, and took off.
Arthur turned to the final knight. "Leon, with me. I want a full report of everything on the way to Gaius."
Leon led the way to the castle as Arthur staggered on, supporting a far-too-quiet Merlin, whose head was drooping. Leon offered to take him, but Arthur shot him down. He knew they were safe now, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to let go until Merlin was officially back with Gaius. Besides, he'd gotten Merlin this far; he could carry him a bit longer.
As they climbed the castle steps, Leon explained how a few days earlier, after the fire was out and the bandits had retreated, the knights—all of whom had survived—had frantically scoured the forest for their missing king. After a day, they had decided to return to Camelot for reinforcements to widen the search, but by then the sorcerers were already starting to gather. They were led by Morgana, who arrived with a dragon in tow. The knights had barely made it back into the castle in time to avoid being scorched.
"We haven't been able to leave the castle since."
"Is Morgana still around?" Arthur asked worriedly. Merlin had said Morgana might be able to break through the shield around the city.
Leon shook his head. "She arrived with the dragon, but she left soon after. The scouts say they haven't seen her return. It's my belief, sire, that the dragon was sent to fetch her."
No Morgana. Arthur supposed if Gwil was dead, then the groups searching for him and Merlin in the woods were probably working under her orders. Morgana must have still been leading the search, scouring the woods. With luck, perhaps she would not realize they'd made it to Camelot for a long time. And perhaps enough of the sorcerers camped outside would heed his words and abandon the siege before she returned.
"The dragon is on our side now," Arthur said. Then he added pointedly, "Merlin's side."
Merlin did not respond to the sound of his name; his eyes had that faraway daze in them again. Arthur wondered if he had a concussion. His head wound from where Trent had thrown him was still bleeding. Or…perhaps he'd used too much magic?
"Sire, may I ask…" Leon glanced at Merlin, than lowered his voice. "What happened to him? Is he alright?"
"I don't know," Arthur said grimly. "I wasn't there for most of it. But it wasn't good."
"Was it magic?"
"The opposite. They took it away from him."
Leon looked dumbfounded. "So he's always…?"
Arthur nodded. "He's saved my life—all our lives, several times over. And I don't even think he's told me about all of them yet."
"Then I owe him a great debt," Leon said solemnly.
"Believe me, we all do."
Leon went on to explain how the castle's defenses had fared under Guinevere's command, and Arthur couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for his wife. She'd evacuated civilians from the lower town and outlying villages into the underground caverns beneath the castle in anticipation of the battle, organized and distributed Camelot's food stores to last the whole of Camelot for weeks, posted sentries at the most strategic locations along the walls, rallied the knights with Leon's help, and had managed to do all this while reassuring the people and preventing a panic.
He knew Guinevere would be a good queen.
Camelot would pull through this, Arthur thought determinedly, trying to ignore his own exhaustion. For the moment, he was safe, Merlin was safe, and his people were safe. Now he would just have to wait to see what the morning would bring.
Wyrth gatu faest! = Intelligent and closed gates!
Ágæle hie = keep them out / hinder them
Gestrenge me nu þæt ic beo swiþe mihtig hie to forwiernan! = Now strengthen me so that I will be fiercely able to hinder them!
Thurh minum gewealde ond minum maegen = Through my power and my strength
Wyrth gatu faest, agaele hie thurh minum gewealde ond minum maegen. Gestrenge me nu thaet ic beo swithe mihtig hie to forwiernan. Wyrth gatu faest, agaele hie…
Intelligent and closed gates, keep them out through my power and my strength. Now strengthen me so that I will be fiercely able to hinder them. Intelligent and closed gates, keep them out…