Chapter Text
Leon really didn’t know where it all went wrong. Sure, he was present for everything that led up to this battle at Camlann, but he couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment that could have made this avoidable.
Perhaps Morgana’s kidnapping and corruption at the hands of Morgause and magic? Was it when Morgana learned of her true heritage and claim to the throne? Or perhaps this was all unavoidable since the day Uther declared war on magic. If Leon was the sort of man who believed in fate, he might have believed that this battle was inevitable, destined almost.
Though it didn’t really matter what particular moment led them here. Leon mused as he kept watch over the sleeping camp while sitting at the edge of a dying campfire. All that mattered was that Camelot’s protectors must prevail against Morgana’s Saxon hoards tomorrow.
The issue of how they were going to prevail, however, was the exact reason why Leon himself was still awake, keeping watch while most of his brothers in arms, the men under his command, slept soundly. How could Leon find peace in slumber when he knows that for many, if not most, of these men, this next sunrise will be their last?
Leon is no fool. He prides himself in this, knowing that he is a realistic man. While he admires Arthur’s optimism, Leon cannot help but acknowledge the reality of the situation: Morgana has magic on her side, and Camelot does not.
Over Morgana’s attacks on Camelot, Leon has noticed a pattern. Each time she attacks, be it with an immortal army or a Saxon one, she uses powerful magic and trickery to sway the battle to her side. Leon is aware, however, of what Arthur may not want to think about: Camelot has only prevailed over Morgana when her magic has failed her.
The spell keeping the immortal army alive somehow broke, and she was unable to cast spells, perhaps because she overused her magic, when Arthur retook Camelot from the Saxon army. Without her magic being neutralized somehow, Morgana would always have the upper hand over Camelot’s forces.
Over the last four years, however, Morgana’s magic has undoubtedly become more powerful, and she’s surely gotten better at controlling it. Leon knows, with a pit of dread opening in his stomach, that there is every chance that Camelot’s knights, his friends and brothers, will be slaughtered in the morning.
It is in situations like these that Leon cannot help but mentally curse Uther and his tactics during the purge. Surely the old king, no matter how rightfully distrustful of magic, could have seen the benefit in at least keeping knowledge on how to defeat powerful magic users and monsters conjured by magic? If Uther hadn't burned all of the books he found that so much as mentioned magic, Camelot’s forces might have a fighting chance against Morgana’s dark magics.
Without any knowledge of how to defeat Morgana, Camelot was powerless to do anything. Leon was powerless to do anything to save his friends, his king, or anyone who would fall under Morgana’s reign of terror.
Leon’s mind churned in his hopeless thoughts and fruitless attempts to think of some sort of battle strategy that would save the lives of his knight as he sat, looking out at the forest and cliffs beyond Camelot’s camp at the mouth of the mountain pass. Despite his mind being preoccupied, he kept his senses sharp, as he wouldn’t put it past Morgana to somehow sabotage Camelot’s army the night before a battle.
Leon wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard a faint rustling of leaves coming from the bushes just beyond the camp. His head snapped up at the sound, just in time to see a cloaked figure disappearing into the foliage, moving away from the camp. While it might just have been one of the knights relieving himself, it could also be a spy working for Morgana, and Leon couldn’t take that risk.
Grabbing his sword, Leon stood and quickly followed after the cloaked figure. Whoever they were clearly didn’t care that much about being followed because they were making quite a bit of noise as they clumsily made their way over to the cliffs, tripping over roots the entire time. If they were a spy, Leon thought, Morgana certainly picked a lackluster one. They didn’t even glance behind them once to check if they were being followed.
Within a few minutes, the figure arrived at the base of the mountain. To Leon’s horror, they started hiking up the mountain on a narrow path, towards the other side of the mountain pass, where Morgana’s camp was located. This figure was heading from Camelot’s camp to Morgana’s, ready to pass along intelligence or returning from placing a curse on Camelot’s knights or any other equally horrifying scenario that Leon’s mind came up with.
Or even, Leon’s mind whispered to him, Morgana had a traitor inside Camelot’s forces. She had done it once before with Agravaine, she could most certainly do it again. Leon clenched his jaw at the thought.
With his mind swirling with the terrible possibilities, Leon continued following the figure up the mountains. When they were nearing the top, the path became more treacherous, causing the clumsy spy to stumble more than a few times. At one point, the spy fell on their face, their legs having slipped out from under them. Leon peered closer at the figure, trying to glean any information that he could.
Leon froze. He felt like his heart was frozen still in his chest.
He knew the shape of those worn boots, even in the dark. No one else in Camelot wore anything similar.
What the hell was Merlin doing out here?
Thoughts of a spy or a traitor nearly evaporated from Leon’s mind entirely, replaced by concern. Merlin was the one person who would never betray Arthur; everyone knew that.
… and Morgana knew it too. Oh god, had she placed Merlin under a spell? Stolen his will and forced him to turn against Arthur, as she had done to Gwen? It made sense, as no one would suspect Merlin to be working with Morgana.
Leon tried to brush away those thoughts, and he instead focused on calming his breathing, which had become erratic with his panic. No, jumping to the worst possible conclusion wouldn’t help anyone.
Perhaps Merlin was just nervous for the battle tomorrow, and wanted a clear picture of the battlefield beforehand? With the light of the moon, one could also see the entire mountain pass of Camlann beneath them, with the lights of Camelot’s and Morgana’s armies on either end.
Yes, Leon thought as he took another deep breath and calmed himself, that was most likely what Merlin was doing. He was always going above and beyond for Arthur’s sake, and scouting out the battlefield would be a great help to them all.
As Merlin came to a stop at the highest point on the path, near the middle of the pass, Leon let a small grin grow on his face. There was nothing to worry about, just Merlin being a loyal and true friend to Arthur.
Leon knew the impact Merlin had on Arthur’s life. Unlike many other knights, he had known Arthur before Merlin had burst into his life in a stroke of random luck. Leon knew very well that Arthur would be a different king if Merlin had never arrived. Merlin had taken an overconfident and haughty prince whose best qualities had constantly been snuffed out by his father, peered deeper into his heart than any other person had been able to, and turned him into a king worthy of legends.
Leon also knew that Arthur absolutely could not go into battle without knowing that Merlin was safe, so he should probably still keep an eye on the servant while he makes his way back down the mountain. It wouldn’t hurt to make himself known though.
As Leon trekked the last few meters up the path towards Merlin, he heard Merlin’s voice, which made him pause. While talking to himself certainly wasn’t the strangest thing Merlin had ever done, not by a mile, he was speaking in a language that Leon didn’t understand. However, the lilt and pronunciation of the language felt familiar. It almost sounded like the language of the Old-
No sooner than the thought crossed Leon’s mind, he heard great rumbling from across the valley. Leon turned his gaze across the valley to the opposite cliff face, which was somehow collapsing into the plain below. Leon couldn’t tear his eyes away from the falling boulders, which landed in the valley with deafening crashes. Within a few minutes, the middle third of the valley had been filled in by fallen rocks.
Even after the rocks had stopped falling, Leon stared at the now uncrossable plain. How on Earth had an entire mountain collapsed? And how were they supposed to fight in Camlann now?
It was almost as if something, or someone, very powerful wanted to stop the battle from happening.
Leon slowly turned his head back towards Merlin, who was still standing at the crest of the path. He almost didn’t want to look, didn’t want to confirm what he now suspected. He was struck by the sudden and foreign urge to turn around, walk back down to camp, forget about everything that he had just seen, and continue through his life in blissful ignorance.
However, Leon didn’t have the luxury of willful ignorance. It was Leon’s job to ensure Camelot protection from any threat. Even if he desperately didn’t want to see this threat.
Moving slowly, as if any sudden movement would result in disaster, Leon dragged his eyes from the valley below up towards Merlin’s eyes.
Merlin’s glowing golden eyes.