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“Help me,” Mordred pleaded. “Help me! Don’t you see? She’s going to be killed!”
But his desperate plea was not answered. And Gwaine was the only who met his eyes.
“I saw many girls, Mordred,” Gwaine said softly. “This one isn’t worthy of your betrayal.”
“Use your magic!” Kara’s voice in his head. Desperate and demanding at once. “Use your magic!” But she doesn’t know… She doesn’t know that Emrys is here… “Use your magic!”
Yes! Nothing to lose!
Mordred looked at Merlin and held his gaze. Letting him read his intent. Now he’ll have to defend his friends and then Arthur will know… Mordred smiled and raised his hand –
… And sudden blow to the head send him into unconsciousness.
Merlin had enough time to feel the relief and gratitude for Gwaine’s quick thinking when Kara retaliated.
Air turned into liquid gold – dark, heavy and hot. Merlin knew that spell. Knew that she could maintain it for no more than a second. But second will be enough. Arthur and the knights will die. Kara will die. Merlin himself? No. Not him.
Arthur saw the death in the druid girl’s eyes. How funny, he thought with pointless, helpless speed, that he couldn’t even remember her name. Arthur knew they were doomed. He knew death when he saw it.
And then he saw Merlin's hands rise, pushing away the approaching death and how gold flashed in his eyes turning instinctive gesture of denial into something more – an order. And the golden death retreated.
Kara sank helplessly down; she could only stare at Merlin with wide eyes. She knew as Merlin himself did that there was no protection against such a spell.
“Morgana herself would not be able to do so,” she muttered.
Arthur was first to break the silence.
“So you have magic,” Arthur said.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you have anything else to say?”
“Should I? If you don’t trust that I’d never hurt Camelot with magic in any way, if you don’t trust – me… Then what difference any of my words could possibly make? You won’t believe me no matter what I want to tell.”
Another moment of silence, moment, when decision was in Arthur’s hands and Merlin was still allowed to hope.
“You have lied to me all these years,” Arthur said and the moment was lost.
“Arthur, please”, Merlin said. “I only tried to protect you and Camelot. There are things against which no swords and no bravery can offer a protection. Please, I wanted to tell you. Everyday.”
Arthur stiffened. There were so many eyes on him – his knights, the druid girl, and he had to decide, but he could not think clearly. Not like this. Not when Merlin, Merlin…
Merlin who once told him: “There is no place for magic in Camelot.”
Merlin the sorcerer. Merlin the liar.
Merlin the deceiver.
He could not think clearly, so he did the only thing he could; he delayed the decision.
“Take your horse and go”, he said. Merlin shuddered.
“Arthur…”
“Be silent. There is no place for magic in Camelot”, Arthur reminded him in an even voice. “That’s what you told me and that is what I am telling you now. Go, while you still can.”
Sudden laughter, shrill and unpleasant indicated that Mordred regained conciseness. “While you still can? While you still can?”
Mordred laughed again like a deliriously happy drunk. “He’s Emrys of the legend! There is no one like him! Oh, great king, but your humble manservant can end your life so fast you won’t even realize that you’re dying! He…”
“Shut up, Mordred!” Merlin said.
“Tell him, Emrys,” Mordred continued, unruffled. “Isn’t that a gorgeous story? Here’s Arthur, son of Uter, perfect king of Camelot, just and mighty, and behind his back…”
“Shut up, Mordred,” Merlin said again but very quietly this time. “If you value the life of your girl, shut up or I will end it for you.”
But Mordred was already above such things. He worked himself into a complete frenzy.
“Did you hear that, mighty king Arthur? Or should I say, blind king Art…”
An invisible hand choked him silent but his voice went on, relentless, gloating, in the minds of Arthur and his men:
“There’s your humble manservant, look at him, your father would be so proud…”
Merlin did not move a muscle, but Mordred fell down. Silent at last.
“So that’s you!” cried Kara forgotten by all until this very moment. “You! Traitor of magic, traitor of your own kind!”
“Here we go again,” Gwaine sighed. “Merlin! Be so kind! Her screeching’s hurting my ears.”
Kara fell down. Her cries were silenced as effectively as Mordred’s before.
“That’s better,” Gwaine said.
“Traitor,” Arthur said softly. Whether to repeat her accusation or to say it as his own.
This time Merlin just nodded. Time to explain and beg for understanding and forgiveness was gone. He was a traitor to the both sides now as Kara and Arthur have said; but he will not become a traitor to his destiny and Albion’s future.
“I will deal with them, my King,” he said formally. Like a stranger. “And you must let me”.
Arthur cast a quick look at his men. They looked back at him, obviously confused by an unexpected – to put it mildly – turn of events, but ready to carry out his orders. Everyone… No, not everyone. Gwaine shook his head with the stubborn look on his face. In the same time Percival took a minuscule step towards Merlin. Everyone except Gwaine followed Percival’s lead.
“They are my subjects,” Arthur objected, giving his men time to come close to Merlin. “And I will decide their fate.”
“Actually,” Merlin said in the same conversational tone, “they aren’t. And it’s not important.” Merlin saw the Knights were closing in on him but continued to look only at Arthur. “Stop them, before I do.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then what do you want, sorcerer?” Arthur asked, very quietly, very softly.
“I’ve already told you. I want to protect you and Camelot. That is what my magic was always for.”
“He just saved our lives,” said Gwaine, meaning: Is it not proof enough?
“Are you really as powerful as Mordred said?” Arthur asked. His voice sounded like a voice of a complete stranger, business-like and distant. He set aside all his hurt and confusion; now his voice was the voice of a king dealing with a problem at hand.
Merlin understood.
“Yes, Sire,” he said just as formally.
“What do you intend to do with them?”
“I don’t know yet… I mean, I wasn’t exactly planning any of it.”
Arthur huffed impatiently and tension around them eased slightly.
“Why am I not even surprised?” He asked, addressing nobody in particular.
“Well, strategic planning isn’t exactly my forte,” Merlin said indignantly. “You said so yourself often enough.”
“I did,” Arthur nodded. “And now everyone can see that I was right.” He was looking at Merlin like he was trying very hard to find a difference between Merlin the sorcerer and Merlin the old friend. And not succeeding.
It was kind of scary to see them back in old comfortable patterns so soon after such a revelation, Sir Leon thought feeling a little dizzy.
“Well, than I just tell you what I know,” Merlin said, but absent-mindedly somehow.
He pointed at unmoving Mordred and Kara.
“They both have magic, though he more than she. And he cannot be allowed to join Morgana. There is a prophecy about him…”
Merlin fell silent then. Slowly he raised his hand and put it over his eyes. He felt dizzy. As if his lungs didn’t get enough air. And then a vision came.
He saw it all. A battlefield with dead and dying all over it. Dead Mordred. Arthur who was dying slowly from a wound inflicted by Mordred. The wound which cannot be healed because… because…
“Merlin?”
“I will deal with them, Sire,” he said only minutes earlier in his pride and his despair. He was wrong. Only Arthur can deal with them.
Merlin’s task was only to provide him the means to do so.
“Merlin?”
“…that he is your doom,” he said. His voice was weak. He could feel destiny shifting towards what was foreseen. He created the moment by sharing the old prophecy with Arthur, but still it wasn’t enough, still the pull back was too strong. Moment when the fate could be turned from its pre-destined course was upon them. And it was sliding away into nothingness. The key moment, he thought feverishly, right here, right now. A crossroad where Arthur’s fate was being decided.
Merlin took everything he had, all his magic, and threw it against the pull, which, unchecked, would lead to Arthur’s death.
He swayed on his feet. Were his lungs working properly? He was suffocating but still pressed on.
“Merlin!”
He coughed and brought a hand to his mouth. It was stained with something wet and dark. With blood. He was drowning in his own blood. And still he poured his magic into the fragile wall he created against the fate.
Only Arthur could deal with them, because they were Arthur’s fate, his ending, and no mortal can escape their fate.
“I’ll try anyway,” he send a thought to every power and every being who might be listening. “Others tried. No one succeeded,” an indifferent reply came from the black void around him. “But I will,” Merlin called back, defiant. “I will and I swear if I fail I’ll erase all the magic not only in Camelot, but in the whole Albion. I’ll find a good deep hole and bury myself in it and take all the magic with me.”
“You won’t dare”.
“I will.”
Merlin coughed again, trying to take a breath and then darkness took him in.
The first face he saw was Arthur’s.
“You’re awake,” Arthur said and relief in his voice was unmistakable. “What was that?”
“A warning,” Merlin said. “Maybe the only one I’ll ever get.” He felt tired and week and didn’t want to have this conversation now. Still. He needed to know.
“Where’s Mordred and Kara?”
“In dungeons.”
“In a different cells?”
“Yes.”
“Bring them together. At least for a few days.”
“Why?”
Because their closeness would make it even more clear to Mordred who he was going to lose. How much he treasured her. How much he wanted to keep her alive.
“Please, Arthur.” Trust me on this he almost say, but how could he? He lost his right to say it, didn’t he? Anyway, the tiredness was already upon him, and Merlin didn’t fight it. Maybe the weakness was his only ally now. Maybe his weakness will speak for him better than any words.
Maybe it’ll even be enough.
“Please, do what I ask.”
Arthur did.
The next few days after this brief visit to the world of living were lost for Merlin. He was delirious from fever. Gaius’s pain drafts weren’t working and he moaned constantly, wretchedly. He didn’t recognize anyone and repeated the same frantic question: “Does it hold? Does it?”
But sometimes there was a semblance of sense in his words.
“I was stupid,” Merlin said, looking at Arthur with bright sightless eyes. “I thought I could win your battles for you.”
“Merlin?” Arthur called, but Merlin went on.
“I was wrong. Arrogant. Only together we can resolve… It was foretold, after all. Two sides of the same coin.”
“Merlin?” Arthur tried again, but Merlin was silent and unmoving. “Gaius!”
The old physician appeared behind his shoulder and bent over his ward.
“He’s fine, Sire, just sleeping.”
“Sleeping,” Arthur repeated and briefly remembered how Merlin stood swaying in an uneven light of torches. He remembered looking at Mordred and his girl, wondering if they were responsible, if they were doing something to Merlin. But the both of them were lying on the grass, unmoving. They woke up in their different cells soon enough. Sooner than Merlin anyway, but seemed apathetic and weak. Gaius told Arthur that Merlin somehow damaged their magic. Though not for good, to Gwaine’s disappointment. The knight felt quite vengeful towards the “stupid little pup and his ugly girlfriend”. Gwaine also felt very protective of Merlin and took a great care to make Arthur aware of this fact. Mostly by not leaving Merlin alone with Arthur at all.
So they listened to his ramblings together.
“I will,” Merlin was muttering. And then:
“Everything you achieve shall have a price and every great thing you do will be done with a stolen strength; and they who you love will live on a borrowed time.”
Words that Merlin was speaking chilled Arthur to the bone. Gwaine looked at his king.
“Poor sod,” he said with forced lightness. “His nightmares remind me of the sermons the Bishop gave me when I was bedridden in a military camp near Badon. Well, almost bedridden, you understand. I was suffering from diarrhea then.”
Arthur did not answered.
“What will happen to him, Arthur?” Gwaine asked a minute later in a completely different tone of voice.
“I don’t have all the answers on earth, sir Gwaine,” Arthur said. “But I think that soon we’ll have much more serious problems to worry about.”
It was actually an answer in itself, but Gwaine didn’t much care for evasiveness of Arthur’s answer. He needed something more solid, more certain.
“I don’t need all the answers on earth,” he replied. “Some answers only you can give, Sire. So: what do you intend to do with him?”
There was a brief silence.
“He has nothing to fear from me,” Arthur said at last. “He’s safe. And I will do everything I can to keep him that way.”
“Why?”
Arthur looked at him coldly. He was tired and worried. He was confused and angry. And he was irritated that Gwaine usurped the right to feel indignant on Merlin’s behalf.
“Because he can be a powerful ally? Or because he cried when I killed the unicorn?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Think what you want to think,” said Arthur standing up. “But remember that he and I have come a long way together, sir Gwaine. And stop acting like you’re the only one who has the right to protect Merlin.”
He casted one quick glance back at Merlin and left.
“Did you decide what to do with them yet?” Merlin asked after the fever has abated and the ability to think coherently returned to him. He obviously didn’t remember anything from his fever-talking. Well, at least he looked a little bit stronger, not as pale as before, though still weak and ill. Arthur wondered if he was out of woods yet.
“I was waiting for you.” Arthur said. Merlin narrowed his eyes, clearly trying to decide if he was serious. “I am serious,” confirmed the King. “It’s not a matter I shall decide lightly. So tell me. What do you have in mind?”
Again Arthur gave a quick confirming nod to his questioning glance.
“Where am I standing with you now, Arthur?” he asked. “How much do you trust or don’t trust me? Now, when you know about my magic?”
“I trust you as before – completely.”
“Do you really? Why?”
“A traitor to magic, that’s how she called you,” Arthur said slowly. “A traitor to your own kind”.
“It’s nice to know that you value your enemy’s word more than mine,” Merlin said somewhat bitterly.
“You lied to me all these years,” reminded him Arthur. Merlin fliched as if Arthur slapped him. “And you stood beside me all these years,” Arthur continued like he didn’t notice. “If I cannot trust you, I cannot trust anyone.”
Merlin looked at him with wide eyes. It seemed that he could start to cry at any moment. His lips were shaking.
“I talked to Gaius,” Arthur said, looking intently on Merlin, willing him to understand. “I talked to the knights, to Gwaine. I rummaged through my memory. And then… ”
“And then?”
“Then I talked to Gwen.” The conversation with Gwen, as it often happen, helped him to get to the heart of the matter. And it was simple: he could not question Merlin’s loyalty.
“Don’t you trust anyone, Arthur?” Gwen asked. “Don’t you trust Merlin? Don’t you believe that he would never do anything to hurt you?”
“I trust him,” Arthur said curtly and only at this moment, only speaking the words aloud he understood they were true. “I do. I just disappointed to know that he didn’t trust me enough to… That he didn’t trust me.”
“About it you’ll have to speak with Merlin,” Gwen said. “When he wakes up.”
If he wakes up, Arthur thought, but didn’t say. “Yes,” he said instead. “We’ll speak then.”
“I want some answers, you understand,” Arthur said.
“You’ll have them.”
Meanwhile Gwaine came to visit Merlin. Seeing that door to Merlin’s room was closed for the first time in many days he looked at Gaius and smiled.
“So, he’s finally woken up?”
Gaius nodded looking immensely relieved.
“Yes.”
“Is Arthur in there?”
“Yes.”
“They’re talking, of course,” Gwaine said with a resigned sigh.
“Yes,” said Gaius, smiling slightly.
“So much talking,” said Gwaine with an extra heavy sigh. “Hopefully Arthur will have enough sense not to tire him out.”
“There’s no danger of that. I am here, after all.” said the old physician serenely. “But Arthur needs to ask his questions and Merlin needs to give his answers.”
Gwaine shrugged his shoulders.
“I’d think everything is clear without all the endless talking.”
Gaius looked at him for a few long seconds.
“It’s because you have a luxury of not being a king,” he said at last.