I know, I know. I'm terribly late.
But... Greece... The Heart of Camelot... Doctor Who... Other fics... Got carried away. Sorry.
Anyway, here's the next chapter and, finally, a part of Arthur's reaction. And we finally begun to get in line with the real pisodes.
Funny fact! I just watched "The Darkest Hour, Part 1" with my brother and when I explained him why Morgana was killing Morgause, he said: "Always with the dead! They always disturb the dead... First with that skeleton army, then with those who couldn't die... They should let the dead rest in peace and mind their business!" Needless to say, I couldn't stop laughing. It's interesting to know his opinions. I'm making him become a Merlinian :')
Alright, on with the chapter!
Complete and utter silence hung between them; you could have heard a needle fall as the three (conscious) occupants of the room stared at the young servant.
Merlin laid on the ground, shivering because of the fever, oblivious to the reactions his magical outburst had caused. Gaius was swallowing compulsively, his withered hands shaking as he stared at his feet. Guinevere had fallen on her knees and kept looking between the unconscious form of her best friend and her husband.
Arthur hadn't moved a muscle; his eyes were burning holes into the wall in front of him, his fists clenching and unclenching in rage, his lips locked into a frown. It felt like his world had stopped in the same moment Merlin's eyes had glowed gold. There was no space for doubts; Merlin - the bubbling fool, the clumsy servant, the cherished friend - was a sorcerer.
While his mind processed - quite slowly, mind you - the idea and tried to adjust to it (Merlin was a sorcerer!) his body decided to act on its own. His legs dragged him towards the servant's shivering frame and his arms - rough and uncaring, for the sky would fall before a Pendragon cared for a sorcerer (and that was what he kept repeating to himself) - picked him up, shoving him over his shoulder and lowering him onto the sickbed.
Once the sorcerer was settled, Arthur backed away from him, looking at him with narrowed eyes. Merlin was muttering in his restless sleep; most of the things he was saying were words with no sense whatsoever (or, he guessed, were words in the language of the Old Religion). What he could understand were the constantly repeated 'Arthur', 'Freya', 'lake', 'magic', 'destiny' and 'monster' 'monster' 'monster'.
The last word sounded wrong coming from Merlin's lips, though he couldn't fathom why he would be concerned about a sorcerer. Maybe it was the thought that no man should think of himself as a monster, or maybe he hated that it was Merlin, of all people - sweet, kind, traitorous Merlin, the man he had considered a friend, a brother - who had uttered that word.
But that was what he was, wasn't he? A monster, an abomination, a creature that shouldn't have existed and that was evil - he was all that, wasn't he? He was evil, wasn't he?
Wasn't he?
While Arthur tormented himself with thoughts about Merlin's supposed treachery, an old woman - a sorceress going by the name of Finna - walked through the woods, holding tightly in her hands a tiny silvery box. At the first look, it seemed quite useless - maybe someone could gain something from selling it, but no more than a few coins - and it was, actually; what it was hidden inside it, the message it contained was what really mattered.
No one had ever opened that box, not since the day the powerful magician Taliesin had written - of his own hand, his eyes glowing gold while he transcribed Destiny's judgement - the prophecy of the battle of Camlann, the place where the Golden King of Albion was destined to die, felled by the sword of a traitor.
But Finna - and the message Taliesin had written for Emrys - would never reach Camelot, for she was caught by the red-caped knights before she did, and arrested with the accuse of sorcery.
She would be hanged the morning after it, a quiet death for a quiet woman. In the exact moment she was killed, her master - Alator - died by Morgana's hand.
The tiny silvery box would be opened by a knight, and the papers would be thrown into a fire, consumed by the burning flames that had been, for years, the most feared fate of any sorcerer.
And the words meant to be read by Emrys, a possible help for him to face more readily the battle of Camlann... They became ashes.
Let loose the hounds of war,
let the dreadfire of the last Priestess
rain down from angry skies,
for brother will slaughter brother,
for friend will murder friend,
as the great horn sounds a cold dawn at Camlann,
the prophets do not lie,
there, Arthur will meet his end,
upon that mighty plain.
Let the blood of the traitor be shed
and stain the battlefield,
let the coldhearted witch beg for mercy,
let the great Destiny cry out in anguish
when the almighty Emrys follows his king
in the golden realm of Avalon.
Even though Merlin had awakened for some time - and had created quite the commotion with his magical outburst - Gaius still couldn't be sure that the young man would be alright.
Not only because of his critical condition, which had worsened when he had used magic - no, the old man was concerned about the emotional state of his ward, too. For what would he think, when (and he ignored the 'if' that danced into his mind) he woke up? When he found out that he had unwillingly revealed to Arthur his magic and that the king had yet to decide his fate, what would he do?
Arthur had reacted surprisingly calmly to Merlin's outburst, but that was by no means a good thing; it could mean that he was considering the situation, or that he was confused and cared, or that he was too angry to have any other kind of reaction. Gaius shuddered at the thought.
Unbeknownst to the physician, the young king - despite his calm appearance - was in the middle of an inner thunderstorm. A war between his mind and his heart, with the first telling him to kill the sorcerer without mercy and the second begging him to trust and forgive his friend.
What should he do? Forgive Merlin and continue with his life, ignoring the fact that his manservant had magic, seemed such a simple solution... But, alas, the easiest road is often that which leads astray.
Should he just turn around while the man was executed for his crimes? Hanged, drowned, burned - should he just watch him squirm in his bonds trying to escape an unavoidable death? And would he be able to live with himself after betraying Merlin in such a terrible way?
That seemed an even more unlikely scenario than him accepting the servant's magic. But what could he do?
He let his head fall into his hands and gripped his own hair tightly in the vain hope that he would receive a divine message with the answers he needed.
He sighed and shook his head.
What was he going to do?
(08-21-2013)