: One Prison is much like another - part 50
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: One Prison is much like another - part 50
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana
Summary: Dragons are a handful, whether they be days old or centuries. Arthur wasn’t having any of it.
Warnings: none
Word Count:1000
Camelot Drabble Prompt #635: grim
Author’s notes: With Uther dead, Arthur is king, true, but he still has a stick up his butt about Merlin. And dragons. And magic.
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It was cold in the dawn’s light Merlin shivered a little, the fine wool cloak Morris had thrust at him-on Arthur’s orders no less, should have been enough to keep him warm but Merlin had other things on his mind.
Namely Morgana and the sizeable army she commanded.
He had asked Arthur why they’d not stayed in the fastness of the castle, its high walls a solid protection. But Arthur just looked at him as if he’d two heads and it was Leon who told him what Arthur had said, that he wasn’t about to let his people be slaughtered while they sat cozy and warm inside the citadel.
Arthur just grunted at that and changed the subject.
Now, though, as the sun began to paint the forest in golds and greens, Merlin let that thought unfreeze his heart, a little. Somewhere in all the frowns and insults, Arthur was still trying to be a good king and Merlin just hoped that would extend to himself as well.
But he wasn’t holding his breath.
But before he could get his traitorous heart to stop giving him hope when there was none, the sudden wing of birds taking to the sky pulled him back.
He had to focus. Dragons and the defeat of Morgana’s forces.
Arthur insisted that Merlin hide himself behind some rocks, out of the direct sight of Morgana but still able to see where most of the army were gathered. He knew there were plenty more skulking in the woods and he could see sparks of magic being used as the sorcerers prepared for battle. Aithusa was a white blur in the forest, not flying but huddling close to where Merlin expected Morgana to be.
There should have been a signal. Arthur promised to send out heralds to announce the new proposals for magic but Merlin hadn’t seen any proclamations and it would have been too late anyway. A day earlier, maybe, a month earlier and some surety of Arthur keeping his word would have been better but there was no way to turn back time and undo past mistakes. Gods above, Merlin had tried. Multiple times.
So now all they could do was push forward and hope it would be enough.
But like an idiot, Merlin had expected Arthur to be reasonable.
“Morgana, I would speak with you,” Arthur shouted across the glen, standing up and walking towards her like the brave fool he was. Leon was there, arguing with him but he shrugged off Leon’s grasp and kept going.
A laugh as harsh and mocking as Merlin had ever heard echoed across the field.
Morgana was there, a lone figure, her army behind her like a wave of force waiting for retribution. She was dressed in black, of course, her leather breeches tight against her form, a black half-skirt opened in front. Even at a distance, Merlin could see emblems sewn there, red-eyed snakes that seemed to writhe as she walked. Her armour was glinting in the dawn’s sun, black and green and gold and on her shoulders, a wolf’s pelt. But it was the necklace at her throat that gave him pause. It seemed to be a string of teeth, human in shape, and in the centre a crystal, pulsing a venomous green. Power there and deadly.
Next to her, Arthur seemed dressed like an itinerant sell sword, the only things marking him king were the gold crest of Camelot on his sleeve and Excalibur at his side.
She laughed again. “And why should I do that? My forces far outnumber yours and I have magic.” But as she walked into the light spilling across the meadow, she gathered sparks of power and sent them up into the air, as if daring him to stop her. “Unless you have come to beg for mercy.”
At least Arthur stopped then, only a few yards distant from her. “You once cared for the people of Camelot. But this can only end in bloodshed and death. Will you not talk with me? Find common ground? There must be some way forward other than war.”
She seemed to consider it, then shook her head, grinning. “I will be queen when you are dead. Is that forward enough for you, brother?”
“I loved you as a brother ought.” He took a step closer, lifting one hand as if in supplication. “Morgana, you would be welcomed back at court, a princess of the blood royal and my heir. My word on it.”
Shaking her head, her voice full of mockery, she said, “A generous offer. But do you think me such a fool?
Uther would never accept me or my magic. And you cower still under his yoke.” She drew herself up, staring at him as if he were an insect and she about to crush him. “No, Arthur, when you lie dead and forgotten, I will be Queen and magic will rule in Camelot. A few lives lost is a small price to pay.”
“And if I promised that magic would be allowed once more? As it was before the Purge?” Morgana jerked back at that, scowling. But Arthur wasn’t done. “I have already begun. Even as we speak, heralds are announcing it in Camelot. I have gathered scholars and those with magic to rewrite the laws on magic. Any crime committed using it would be tried for the crime and not magic used. Healers would be welcome back and farmers with their talents to increase crop yields. And many others, too. Surely it is a good start.”
“You’re lying. It’s a trick.” She was frowning daggers at him. “You would never go against our dear father.”
“I am king, Morgana. And a king must do what is best for his people. Uther was a great king in some ways but his hatred of magic was mis…informed. I seek to right the wrongs he committed. Would you not want to be a part of that? To bring hope back to those who have lost all?”
Even in the distance, Merlin could see some of the sorcerers wavering, talking among themselves and pointing toward Arthur.
For a moment, Merlin thought she might take Arthur’s offer after all. She must have known that Arthur’s word was as sacred as any bond.
“You almost seem sincere. But Uther Pendragon lied as easily as he breathed and hundreds paid for it. And it is said, like father, like son.” But instead, the grim walls rose up again. “No, I will be queen and you will lie in a forgotten ditch and the crows will feast on your eyes.”
She turned to go then and it was only Arthur’s reply that stopped her.
“If the saying ‘like father like son’ is true, just how much truer is a daughter then?”
Eyes as sharp as knives, she spat out, “I am not Uther,”
“No? Prove it then. Come with me. Be my sister again and help build a better kingdom for all its people.” Arthur was reaching out again, almost seeming to will her into acceptance.
But instead, she sent a fireball to burst at his feet. “I am not you, either.”
As Arthur jumped back, her laughter began to fill all the space between the two armies, her arms rising up as she wove spells into the air “Goodbye, brother.”
The battle for Camelot had begun.