-XXX-
Lancelot was waiting for them by the time they arrived in the village the next afternoon. He was standing with his hands resting on his belt, his exhausted demeanor shifting to pure relief when he saw the familiar red cloaks approaching.
Merlin gave his friend a quick once-over, grateful to the gods that he seemed to be unscathed. The shadows underneath his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights, but he didn't seem to have more than a few superficial wounds. The same could not be said for the village.
Merlin had felt the sickness of the land from miles away, but it wasn't until he saw it with his own eyes that he realized the extent of the damage. Most of the huts were burnt down to the foundations; anything made of wood had been turned to ash, while the stone structures were blackened or blown apart by what could've only been magic. People littered the streets. The healthy tended to the injured in whatever way they could, and many graves had already been dug and filled with the bodies of those who were less fortunate. The air of defeat around the villagers was thick, and they hardly spared the newcomers a glance. It's not like they were hoping for rescue; the damage had already been done.
The Druids were right about the magic, though. Besides what Merlin could see with his own eyes—dead grass, wilted flowers, barren trees—the land itself seemed to cry out to his very soul, a terribly discomfiting feeling that he wouldn't be able to describe to anyone else. It pulled at his magic, begging to be healed, and he wanted to comply more than anything. The lack of balance in this little part of the world was dizzying, and he quickly dismounted his horse before he could fall off.
He immediately abandoned his mount—she was well-trained and wouldn't wander in his absence—and ran over to Lancelot, nearly tackling the man in a crushing hug. It had been much too long since he'd seen his friend, the closest one he had next to Arthur. He hadn't stopped worrying about him since the knight left the safety of the citadel.
Lancelot chuckled at the blatant show of emotion but hugged back without a second thought. He and Gwaine were the only knights who weren't allergic to public displays of affection. He patted Merlin on the back, briefly squeezing the nape of his neck before they pulled away from each other, leaving only an arm's length between them.
"It's good to see you again, my friend," Lancelot greeted warmly, nodding at Arthur and the Knights as they dismounted and came over to say their hellos. Merlin stepped aside to give them room to shake hands and trade slaps on the back, waiting until they were done to speak up.
"It's good to see you, too, Lancelot," he said sincerely. He'd probably be grinning if the situation were less dire. Lance understood his solemn expression, and glanced over his shoulder at the village with obvious dismay.
"I wish it could've been under better circumstances," he remarked quietly.
Arthur grimaced. "How many casualties?" He asked, straight to business.
"A couple dozen, at least," Lancelot replied, guilt coating his words. Merlin nudged him with his shoulder, giving him a firm look that said, It wasn't your fault. The knight half-smiled in acknowledgment, but it faded quickly. "There are many more injured, Sire. A few probably won't last the night," he claimed grimly.
Arthur's jaw clenched with restrained anger, and the rest of the Knights bowed their heads at the news. Merlin noted their reactions and started shaking his head in denial.
"No. No, I won't let that happen," he declared determinedly, turning towards the village.
Arthur caught his arm. "What are you going to do?" He questioned.
Merlin stood a bit straighter. "I'm going to heal them. However I can," he added meaningfully. His skills as a physician's apprentice would only take him so far. He wasn't the best at healing spells, but he'd make do. He had to. No one else was going to die.
"Merlin…" Arthur started hesitantly, preparing to argue.
Merlin grabbed the hand that was grasping his arm and gently pried it off; Arthur pulled it back to rest at his side, his fingers twitching with an urge to do something to help.
"I have the power to heal them, Arthur," he insisted. Lancelot's head snapped up and he looked between them with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out how much the king knew. Merlin spared a moment to give him a quick, reassuring smile, and the knight's eyes widened at the implication.
Arthur noticed the silent interaction and couldn't quite stem the annoyance that flooded his features. "Oh, yes, I know all about Merlin's talents," he revealed, crossing his arms. "So there's no need for—" He gestured between them with an index finger, referencing their wordless communication— "this, anymore." His tone was slightly petulant, but no one commented on it.
Lancelot opened his mouth and closed it again, sharing a chagrined glance with Merlin. "I…I can't say I'm sorry for keeping the secret, my lord," he admitted, causing Arthur to raise an eyebrow. "Merlin is my friend. I would protect him with my life," he hastened to explain, shifting from foot to foot in preparation for some kind of punishment. Merlin felt a swell of affection rise at the knight's show of loyalty and turned a glare on Arthur, daring him to say anything negative to Lancelot.
Arthur rolled his eyes at the servant, but his irritation dwindled. "It's fine, Lance," he reassured. "I'm glad he's had someone looking out for him in a way that I couldn't." Merlin was startled by his honesty. The king usually kept his feelings locked down tightly, only exposing them when necessary.
Lancelot smiled knowingly, relaxing now that the king had granted him pardon. "You can now, though."
Arthur dipped his head in agreement. "Yes. As long as the bumbling oaf doesn't go out of his way to make things difficult for me," he said casually. Merlin's eyes lidded at the insult, and he turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Alright, well I'm just going to make myself useful and see to the injured!" He called over his shoulder, ignoring Arthur's amused snort at his abrupt exit. He heard Lancelot murmur something to the king before he rushed to catch up with the warlock, his eyes a bit brighter than when they'd first arrived. Merlin slowed down so the knight could keep pace, examining the villagers they passed with a quick gaze to determine who needed his assistance the most.
"I'll show you to the hut with those that sustained the worst wounds," Lancelot offered, jerking his head to urge Merlin to follow him. They made their way through the village, weaving between people resting on the ground outside destroyed buildings as well as those who ran to and fro delivering food and water to their neighbors.
"Where are the other knights?" Merlin wondered, noting the lack of Camelot red amongst the crowd.
"I sent them to a nearby village, one that hasn't been raided yet. If the bandits attack again, it'll likely be there," Lancelot guessed. "I only stayed behind to meet up with you and Arthur." He gave Merlin a sidelong glance. "Speaking of… when did you tell him about your magic?" He questioned incredulously, leaning in and lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. His expression was more than a little concerned, and Merlin rushed to assure him that he wasn't in any danger of burning at the stake.
"It was a few weeks ago, right after you left," he explained. "A girl was about to go on trial for sorcery, and I just…" He shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't stay silent anymore. She was innocent of committing any real crime, and I needed to show Arthur that he was wrong about magic." There was also the minor fact that keeping his magic a secret had been eating him alive, and he'd honestly not been sure how much longer he could go on without telling his king.
Lancelot let out a huff of disbelief. "And he wasn't mad?"
Merlin chewed the inside of his cheek guiltily. "I think he was more…hurt," he said truthfully, easily able to recall the betrayed expression on Arthur's face. He never wanted his friend to look at him like that again.
Lance hummed in understanding. "That's no surprise," he murmured. At Merlin's confused glance, he elaborated, "He cares for you deeply, Merlin. It only makes sense that he'd want you to trust him enough to be honest with him."
"I do trust him!" Merlin protested weakly. "It's not that simple. I…" He swallowed heavily, shuddering at the images of smoke and flames that ran amok in his mind.
Lancelot rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know, my friend. You had every right to be afraid. I doubt I would've done anything different if I'd been in your position." Merlin didn't know about that. Lance was brave and noble and couldn't tell a lie to save his life. It was probably fortunate that he hadn't been born with magic.
"He's going to repeal the ban, you know," Merlin announced quietly, biting his lip to contain a proud smile. It didn't matter how many times he repeated the statement in his head—he'd never get over the fact that magic would be free again under Arthur's reign, a destiny fulfilled. It made up for a lifetime of fear and pain a thousand times over.
Lancelot halted in shock. "He told you that?" Merlin nodded, exhaling a shaky laugh and running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Oh, Merlin…" Lance enveloped him in another hug, this one softer and more emotional than the first. "That's wonderful," he whispered in the warlock's ear, squeezing him briefly. When he pulled away, there were actual tears in his eyes that threatened to spill.
Merlin sniffed, fighting back his own breakdown. "It's really happening, Lance. I'm finally going to be free," he reiterated with a heartfelt gaze. The knight grinned and pulled him back to his side with one arm, continuing their journey. Merlin tripped but happily stumbled along with his friend.
"I leave Camelot and everything changes. Next time Gwaine can volunteer," he complained jokingly.
"He could never be that far away from a tavern for so long," Merlin objected with a snort, and Lancelot let out a bark of laughter that had some people glaring daggers at them as they passed. They both winced in apology, and their mirth faded as they remembered where they were and why.
When they finally arrived at the large hut with the critically injured villagers and stepped inside, Merlin automatically sucked in a sharp breath. There were dozens of people packed into the musty space; some lay on cots, others on pallets on the floor. Many of them were covered in haphazard bandages made up mostly of old cloth and ripped-off pieces of clothing. There were men, women, and children of all ages—clearly Morgause didn't care for the well-being of the innocent. No one seemed to notice their entrance, save for the lone physician in the room, who appeared to be some sort of midwife rather than an actual healer. She sighed in relief as soon as she saw them, and abandoned her task of wringing out bloody rags in a wash basin in favor of rushing over to them.
"Please, gods, tell me you're a physician," she pleaded, clutching at Merlin's hands.
He stumbled for a response, glancing between her and his soon-to-be patients. "U-Um, yes. Well, sort of… Physician's apprentice, technically, but—"
"Have you supplies?" She interrupted swiftly, already grabbing for the satchel hanging over his shoulder. He relinquished it to her without protest, following quickly when she spun around and headed for a child lying still on a cot nearby, his cheeks pale and his hair slick with sweat. He was breathing, just barely, but it didn't look like he'd last much longer. Merlin frowned, crouching at the boy's side and pressing a hand lightly to his forehead to take his temperature as the woman dug through the satchel for whatever she required. His skin was blazing with heat, and Merlin withdrew his hand quickly.
"Is this all the willow bark you have?" The midwife asked desperately, holding some in her hand and shaking it.
He gestured vaguely towards the door. "There's more on my horse. I'll just—"
"You—" She turned to Lancelot, her voice firm— "go collect the rest of his supplies. We've no time to waste." To the knight's credit, he merely bowed his head in acceptance of the unofficial orders and hurried back out the door, leaving Merlin to face the brunt of the woman's serious demeanor. "I need to lower his fever. Do you know how to stitch?" She asked him, already moving to grab some empty bowls. Merlin could barely keep up, but he nodded. "Good." She shoved a needle and some thread into his hands, and he scrambled to grasp them before they dropped to the dirty floor. "Find the wounds that can be stitched. Clean them out first with warm water. If you can't stop the bleeding, cover the wound with a poultice of yarrow. If their fever is especially high, come to me. I'll be working on the willow bark decoctions. Now go and get started. I'll try to help where I can." She pushed him towards the center of the room, and he went along with a blank expression, going over her instructions. Her no-nonsense attitude reminded him of Gaius, and he was suddenly glad she was here. He would've felt capable enough on his own, but it was nice to be around someone so confident and devoted to the task at hand.
The first man he decided to treat had a nasty gash on his thigh, dangerously close to an artery. It was long but not terribly deep, so the bleeding had mostly stopped. There were many other cuts and bruises over his body, but none that required immediate attention like the one on his leg. Leaving open such a large wound was just begging for an infection. Merlin fell easily into physician mode, noticing only what was right in front of him as he worked. He went through the motions without thinking too much about it: heat up some water, clean the wound, thread the needle, stitch. He moved mechanically, having to catch himself from humming absentmindedly a few times. The man was already unconscious, so Merlin didn't worry about if he was causing him any pain. At some point, Lancelot came back in with the requested medical supplies, but it wasn't long before the midwife ushered him back outside to give them both space to do their jobs.
After Merlin finished with his first patient, he moved on to the next, and the next, and the next. There were some whom he had to administer a few drops of belladonna to dim their senses while he stitched them up, but many were already knocked out cold purely from blood loss and exhaustion. The midwife, named Dreda as he later learned, occasionally popped up beside him to encourage a patient to drink some of the willow bark tea. By the time he was finished stitching all the worst injuries, his hands were shaking from consistent, focused exertion. He'd also been infusing small amounts of his magic into the wounds he treated—not enough to capture notice, but enough to speed up the healing—and he felt worn out to his very soul. Healing magic took a heavier toll on him than any other kind, which really sucked in situations like this. He could probably sleep for a week and still be tired.
Merlin startled when Dreda came up behind him, resting a delicate hand on his shoulder. Her expression was much softer now that most of the danger for her patients had been averted. She now donned a more motherly persona, one that was probably essential in her profession.
"You're exhausted. You should rest," she suggested. The sun had climbed its way across the sky as they worked, and it was well into late afternoon. If he was in Camelot, he'd be toiling away in the laundry room or down in the armory polishing Arthur's armor after their training session.
He shook his head regretfully, hauling himself to his feet and dusting off his trousers. "I can't. I have to go meet up with Ar—the king," he corrected, his brain too muddled to remember proper titles.
Dreda tsked in disapproval. "You're going to collapse if you keep this up," she chastised.
"Who, me? I can do this all day," he claimed with false cheer, waving off her concern.
She harrumphed at the obvious lie. "Alright, be that way, then. But don't say I didn't warn you." She pointed a threatening finger in his face, and he gave her his most innocent smile in return.
"I should get going," he said apologetically, backing towards the door.
"Merlin," she called softly before he reached the threshold. "Thank you for your help today. All your help." She inclined her eyebrows meaningfully, and he stumbled back into the door, that age-old fear returning with a vengeance as his breath stuttered.
"W-What?" He stammered, reaching behind his back for the door handle.
Dreda rolled her eyes fondly. "Oh, please, like you're the first person with special skills to wander through these parts." Merlin was silent as he took that in, as well as the nonchalant manner in which she'd said it. "Some of us remember what life was like before the Purge," she added quietly. "I consider it a blessing that people like you still manage to make the most of your gifts. I assure you, no one in this village would curse you for it."
Merlin exhaled heavily, slumping against the door. He'd told Arthur last night that the people of Camelot would need time to come to terms with the reinstitution of magic in the land, but perhaps…perhaps there was more support for magic-users than he'd expected, at least in the outer edges of the kingdom where Uther's ideals weren't so prevalent.
"You really think so?" He whispered hopefully, looking up at her through his lashes.
Dreda put her hands on her hips. "I do. You're a good man, Merlin. Anyone with half a brain could see that," she declared, eliciting a soft laugh from the warlock. He was going to miss her after he left.
"Thank you, Dreda. It…means a lot, truly," he said sincerely.
She gave him one last smile, then made a shooing motion at him. "Now go on. I'm sure you've got better things to do than stand around talking to me."
Merlin opened the door, grinning in amusement as he exited the hut. "Yes, serving the king his dinner easily tops every other activity," he called over his shoulder, voice laced with sarcasm. He heard her laughter follow him out as he shut the door in his wake.
He immediately went searching for Arthur, and was surprised when the man found him first. The king's expression was grim, and the Knights behind him looked to be in a similar state. Merlin tensed, his exhaustion fading to the back of his mind.
"What is it?" He asked warily.
"Morgause."
-XXX-
-XXX-
"This is a colossally stupid idea."
Merlin couldn't see Arthur's eye roll since he was walking behind him, but he could sense it all the same.
"Thank you, Merlin. It's not like I heard you the first hundred times you said it," the king remarked monotonously, marching ahead with the same determination he'd had since they'd left the village.
"We all know this is a trap, so why are you so willing to walk straight into it?" Merlin questioned, practically whining. At this point he was resigned to the fact that they would be going to their doom, but he felt it was his duty to complain a bit first.
"You know why," Arthur snapped irritably.
"Right, the hostages. Sure. Very noble of you to want to rescue them, but what if we die before any rescuing can actually happen?" Merlin pressed, narrowly dodging a twig to the face that Arthur didn't bother warning him about. Arse.
"I'm not going to stand by and do nothing while innocent people are in danger. If you're scared, though, feel free to turn back," Arthur offered in a clipped tone, but Merlin could hear the genuine hope in his words. He would happily encourage Merlin to stay behind while he and the Knights took on Morgause by themselves.
Merlin sneered at the back of his head. "Not a chance," he growled, stomping along after his king. He was thinking up a few choice insults to throw at him when a wave of power hit him full force, causing him to lose his balance and careen into a nearby tree, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. "Woah…" Arthur and the Knights stopped immediately, looking over at him in concern.
"Merlin?" Arthur ventured, taking a step closer and lending a steadying grip to his elbow.
Merlin blinked dazedly as his own magic flared, shoving the invading pressure off with a startling amount of force. His head instantly felt clearer, and he straightened back up, rubbing his shoulder. Arthur hesitantly let go, but kept his hand hovering close by just in case.
"That was unpleasant," Merlin noted, shaking his head.
Leon raised an eyebrow. "What just happened?"
"You look like I do after a night at the tavern," Gwaine piped in, hiding his concern with humor.
Merlin frowned. "I felt Morgause's magic, but it's…I don't know. Stronger, maybe?" It definitely had never affected him in such a way before.
"Stronger?" Arthur repeated, alarmed.
"Yeah, but…" He trailed off, trying to figure out why it felt so strange. "It's not just stronger, it's…different, somehow. Not…pure." He struggled to find the right words to explain, but he could tell from his companions' expressions that he'd failed.
"That doesn't make a lick of sense," Arthur stated bluntly, speaking for all of them.
Merlin scowled. "Yeah, well, none of you have magic, so you wouldn't understand," he retorted.
"Can you find her?" Elyan asked before things could devolve into an argument.
Merlin closed his eyes and concentrated, chasing after the magic he'd just expelled from his presence. It was almost too easy to follow. Its darkness tainted the forest air, leaving a clear trail behind—not one visible to the naked eye, but one he could feel. He floated along with his magic in his mind's eye, eventually coming to a gaping cavern at the end of a creek. He couldn't see past the entrance, which meant Morgause was definitely somewhere inside. He cut the tether of his magic, snapping back to his physical form, slightly disoriented at the abrupt change of scenery.
"She's not too far ahead. Half a mile at most." He cast a quick glance at the sky, which had turned orange at the edge of the horizon. It would be night soon. "I'm really not sure about this, Arthur," he murmured, his tone too serious to dismiss. He felt wholly unprepared for a confrontation, both because he already felt tired from the amount of healing magic he'd performed earlier and because there was something off about Morgause's magic that he couldn't identify.
Arthur sighed softly. "I know. But she took children, Merlin. I'd rather risk my life than theirs."
"I won't let her hurt you," Merlin said firmly.
Arthur clapped him on the shoulder gently. "Then I've got nothing to worry about, have I?" He remarked, then turned and headed off in the direction they'd been traveling since they entered the forest. The Knights followed after him, only Lance lingering behind until Merlin pushed away from the tree and joined him. Looks like he would have another day of saving Arthur's royal backside. At least he could do it openly this time.
They traveled the rest of the way in silence, just in case there were bandits lurking nearby waiting to ambush them. Merlin was fairly sure there were no other people in this part of the forest, but perhaps Morgause was shielding their presence. It was safer to be cautious.
Once the cave came into sight, Merlin pushed ahead through the group to flank Arthur, hovering near his right shoulder as they scanned the entrance for threats. The Knights drew their swords slowly, casting wary glances at their surroundings.
"Are the villagers sure this is where she brought the children?" Percival asked, tightening his grip on his sword's hilt.
"It's the only place close enough to the village to hide on short notice," Arthur responded. "And multiple people saw bandits drag the kids this direction. Where else would they be? They only had a fifteen minute head start on us."
"She's here," Merlin asserted, staring toward the cave with narrowed eyes. The others looked at him, some doubtful, some curious. "I can feel her," he murmured. Morgause wasn't bothering to hide her power. She had no reason to, not like Merlin did. He'd been repressing his magic since he moved to Camelot, and it was the only reason Morgause (and other sorcerers, for that matter) didn't know his true identity. She still thought of him as the hapless manservant, practically beneath her notice, and for now that served as an advantage. She might know they're coming and have a trap set, but they still had an element of surprise.
"Right, then," Arthur said, drawing his own sword. "On me." He strode forward, and Merlin hurried after him, the Knights not far behind. Right before they entered, Merlin brought up his hand and summoned a small branch from the forest floor on the other side of the creek. It flew straight into his open palm; Arthur and the Knights jumped at the unexpected sound, staring at him with wide eyes as he lit the end on fire without a word. When they all kept standing there, he rolled his eyes.
"I thought we might need a torch to see by," he explained. "Unless you all have night vision," he added, raising an eyebrow.
"Just… walk, Merlin," Arthur ordered exasperatedly, pushing his shoulder. He surrendered with a slight smirk and took the lead, holding the torch out in front of him to light the path ahead. At first, the cavern was so large that the edges of it were hidden in shadow. They kept going straight, not wanting to get lost right off the bat. Merlin had a general sense of which direction they needed to go, but he couldn't pinpoint Morgause's exact location or how deep the cave actually went.
Gradually, the large space shrank around them until they were shuffling through a tunnel only wide enough for two people to stand shoulder to shoulder and with a ceiling low enough that Percival had to slouch in some places. To Merlin's dismay, their path led them deeper underground, and the temperature started to drop. He desperately hoped there were no wilddeoren in these passages, and he was sure Arthur and Lancelot were having similar thoughts if their grim expressions were anything to go by.
They continued on for an interminable amount of time, only coming across a fork in the tunnel twice. Both times, Arthur questioned if Merlin was absolutely sure he knew which way to go, and both times, Merlin assured him with, "I know what I'm doing, Sire." Arthur was never very reassured by his servant's confidence, and to be honest, neither was Merlin.
So they were both pleasantly surprised when the tunnel finally opened up into a small chamber. A thin creek cut through the center of the floor, dividing the room. Bioluminescent moss grew in patches along the walls and stalagmites, and Merlin couldn't help but gaze around in wonder. He could still feel Morgause's magic battering away at his senses, like breathing in the heavy smoke of a fire, but there was also a natural magic in the cave. It emitted soft bursts of calm, cool energy that he wanted to soak up while he had the chance. Before he could reach out to touch the moss, Arthur barreled through his line of sight, heading for the other side of the cavern.
"They're here!" The king called, relieved. He leaped across the creek with ease, crouching down next to three small figures curled up together against a large boulder. The Knights followed him, but Merlin kept his distance, watching out for Morgause's appearance. She was close. He was sure of it.
The kids huddled together tightly as the men approached, looking up at them with frightened expressions. The girl in the center seemed to be the oldest and was the one brave enough to speak.
"Y-You're the king, aren't you?" She asked, her voice shaking on the words, though that could've been as much from cold as from fear. The blue-tinged light of the moss illuminated the dried tear-tracks on her cheeks.
Arthur nodded, sheathing his sword to appear less threatening. "I am. I came to your village earlier to help."
The girl nodded. "We saw you. We thought we were safe. But…" She trailed off with a shudder, glancing around as if she expected Morgause to jump out of the shadows. Which Merlin was pretty positive would happen any second now. They needed to hurry.
Arthur winced. "I'm sorry we weren't there to stop Morgause," he apologized. "But we're here now. We're taking you back to your village. Your parents are worried sick." The girl lightened up a bit at the mention of her family, and she shook the two kids next to her.
"You hear that, boys? The king is here to rescue us!" She beamed. The younger boys gave Arthur and the Knights shy smiles, but they kept tight grips on the girl's dress.
The men began to quietly discuss who would carry who back through the tunnel, but Merlin's attention whipped to the chamber's entrance when the air shimmered with dark magic. His breath caught when he saw Morgause blocking their exit, a smug smile on her face. Her hair and silken blue dress were as perfect as ever, and she stood with full confidence as she stared down her enemies.
Merlin backed up a step, placing himself between her and the others. He could hear one of the Knights call out in alarm at her appearance, and the children scrambled to hide behind them. Arthur rushed back across the creek to take up a protective stance in front of Merlin, yanking the servant back by his elbow. Merlin let himself be manhandled, too focused on the strange magic surrounding Morgause to put up a protest. The problem was on the tip of his tongue, if he could just…
"Arthur! How good of you to come," Morgause greeted in a sickly sweet tone, her brown eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
"Not like you gave me much choice," Arthur growled, holding his sword in a defensive position with one hand on the hilt and the other keeping Merlin behind him.
Morgause frowned in faux confusion. "But of course I did." She swept her hand out toward the children. "You could've left them to rot down here, alone in the dark," she mused.
"Seems like you went through a lot of trouble just to get my attention," Arthur sneered.
She smirked wickedly. "Not your attention, dear King," she corrected. Arthur tensed immediately, and now Merlin latched onto him instead, afraid his friend would do something rash.
"Let us leave in peace, and I might spare your life," Arthur commanded, ignoring her baiting. Merlin's magic rose, skimming beneath the surface of his skin in preparation for a fight. There was simply no way they were leaving this cave without getting past Morgause, which Arthur was undoubtedly aware of. The air around Morgause shifted unnaturally, distorting her figure for the barest moment. Merlin froze, his eyes flickering over her form in alarm.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," she tsked with mock disappointment. She stepped forward, and this time Merlin was sure he wasn't hallucinating when he was able to see the shine of the moss on the wall behind her, despite her body blocking his line of sight. He swallowed with dread as the realization swept over him like a tidal wave, while at the same time Arthur lowered his sword, obviously coming to the same conclusion. Morgause grinned, seeing the exact moment they figured it out. "Did you really think I'd let myself get cornered all the way down here, with only one exit?" She tilted her head, blinking at them innocently as an ominous rumble started up in the distance.
Merlin's heart rate sped up and he let go of Arthur as Morgause's image flickered once more before disappearing completely, eliciting a loud curse from the king. Arthur sprang into action, ordering the Knights to grab the children so they could make a run for it. Merlin was stuck in place, his fingers splayed at his sides as he listened to the sound of crumbling stone get louder and louder. His mind was racing a mile a minute, desperately searching for a solution in the mere seconds they had before the earth crushed them where they stood.
There was no time to build a shield big enough to contain all of them. He couldn't possibly hold up the tons upon tons of rock above them, nor could he move it to clear a path. They couldn't outrun it, they couldn't thwart it, they couldn't hide from it.
Up ahead through the bit of tunnel visible in the dim light, he saw the beginnings of collapse in this section of the cave. His ears rang with the sheer volume of stone against stone. Only about five seconds now.
Arthur and the Knights had stopped moving, staring with wide eyes at their inevitable doom. The children, each held in a Knight's arms, began sobbing with fear. Four seconds.
Merlin set his feet, breathing in the coolness of the cave's magic, washing out the remnants of Morgause's presence. Two seconds.
Merlin met Arthur's pained gaze, the two of them sharing so many silent words they never had to say aloud because they both just knew. One second.
The dust of the crushed rock burst upward around the edges of the room as Merlin threw his hands out to either side. His irises burned molten gold, and the world screamed in protest as it was forced to grind to a complete stop. The air stilled, the water of the creek halted mid-flow, falling rocks paused in their path downward, suspended in place right above their heads. Sound ceased altogether, save for everyone's panicked breathing and the children's crying.
"What the…?" Gwaine whispered in shock, slowly uncurling from the braced position he'd taken up. All the Knights hesitantly opened the eyes they'd squeezed shut in preparation for death. One by one, their gazes turned from their frozen surroundings to where Merlin stood. Arthur had never stopped staring at him.
"Merlin…" The king breathed, the tip of his sword clanging against the ground.
The warlock was only minutely aware of his companions, his entire being focused on bringing time to heel. His limbs shook with the effort of keeping their imminent deaths at bay. The magic of the world pounded determinedly through and around him, demanding the freedom to set itself right. It felt like he was holding a door closed against a battering ram with only his pinky. His lungs struggled to expand against the pressure, and sweat broke out on his skin. The blood drained from his face, and his knees wobbled threateningly.
He'd never held time for more than a few moments, and now he knew why. Even if he hadn't drained his energy on healing spells earlier, he would still be suffering now. He was working against the laws of nature, and it was exacting its price upon his body. The amount of magic flowing through him was too much for any living person to bear, and anyone else would've been dead already. But he was Emrys. He was magic itself, and he alone could bend it to his will.
One leg gave out, and he sank to his knees, his bones creaking as his strength ebbed.
"I…can't…hold it," he gritted out, spit flying through his teeth. His eyes burned hotter, shining so brightly he could see golden light reflect off of his immediate surroundings. He licked dry lips, grimacing as the metallic taste of blood entered his mouth. His nose was bleeding.
"Merlin!" Arthur skidded over to him, dropping down so they were eye level. He looked more panicked than Merlin had ever seen. The king said nothing more, unable to help in any way.
The Knights had made their way over at some point, and now encircled him in a show of support. Merlin glanced around at his friends, inspiration dawning on him like lightning.
The earth managed to punch through his defenses for an instant, making him gasp and clench down on time with an iron-clad grip. His hands and feet went numb, and his vision blackened at the edges.
"Everyone…hold on…to me! Now!" He bit out.
No one hesitated, sensing he was at the very end of his rope and having no choice but to trust him. Hands grasped at his arms and shoulders, imbuing him with newfound warmth.
He'd tried teleporting only a few times in the past, and each time he'd only had to worry about himself. His attempts had never been very successful—he'd never quite ended up where he planned—but it wasn't a spell that required much energy, so he'd figured it didn't hurt to keep trying.
Now, however, he was already performing the most difficult spell in existence, one only Emrys was capable of, and he had himself and nine other people he needed to move all at once. In short, he wasn't at all confident he was going to make it out of this situation alive.
Merlin's glowing gaze flicked up to meet Arthur's. The king's hands were resting on either side of his neck, and the servant realized Arthur had been trying to get his attention for a while.
"Merlin…" Arthur warned, choking on his next words.
Merlin gave him a watery smile, hoping more than anything that this wouldn't be the last time he saw his king.
"It's okay, Arthur," he told him. "Everything will be okay."
Bright golden light flashed outward, filling the entire cavern in the blink of an eye. Air flowed, water trickled into motion, and tons of stone crashed to the floor, smothering the empty space in rock, dirt, and dust.
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