Merlin - Realms [Part 6 - Final]
Title: Realms
Genre: pre-slash: Arthur/Merlin, tiny bit of het: Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: R for violence
Length: ~45,000 words - Complete
Spoilers: Through Series 2, AU after the end of Series 2
Warnings: Violence, death of minor original characters
Synopsis: A portal has opened in Gaius’ rooms between Merlin’s realm and one very much like it, only on the other side magic was never banned and can be used freely without pain of death. Needless to say, Merlin has fallen through this portal more than once.
Author’s Notes: OMG, it’s done! Oh-so-many thanks to the awesome threnodyjones for the beta job on this monster, and to all the excellent cheerleaders over at
camelot_fleet for their support as I tried to wrap this up for the Finish-a-thon. This ended up far longer than originally intended, but tells the tale I wanted to get out, so I hope people are willing to give it a chance.
Secondary Notes: Suaimhneas = Irish for quiet, peaceful.
Synopsis: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Live Journal Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Dreamwidth Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
For long moments, they waited. When it appeared he would not return, Arthur led the way back into the clearing while Morgana whispered orders to those with little to no magical ability to stay away from the stones lest they wish for an unscheduled journey to someplace they probably did not want to be. Aglain whispered words of his own and the portal glowed slightly brighter for a moment, at least in Merlin’s eyes, after which Lancelot physically jumped back at its presence, leading Merlin to believe it was now visible for everyone present.
He, Aglain, and Morgana immediately began to discuss the possibility of a second portal on the other side as well, no doubt matching the location of this one. They also tried to reason the meaning behind the change in colours, but could only guess that it was a way to travel to a different portal than the one their own would naturally go to. In this case, Merlin was willing to bet one of his precious few coins that the second man ended up in Gaius’ workroom just now, just as the he was willing to bet the first man had ended up in this clearing when he and Arthur made the journey to this side. When to portal returned to its golden hue, it had returned to its natural position, which is why they ended up back in the castle when they stepped through.
Morgana wondered if it had anything to do with the assassins’ apparent love for transportation spells, and Aglain tried to remember anything that would make such a thing possible, but needed more research to be certain. Merlin, however, was distracted by the way the portal’s glow grew once more, brilliant gold though there was no one on this side controlling it.
“Uh, Arthur?” he swallowed.
Even though Arthur was on the other side of the clearing, he was first to Merlin’s side. He tugged on Merlin’s collar and ordered, “Get out of there!” while dragging him towards where Lancelot and James already had their swords out and were advancing.
Gwen pulled Morgana to the side, and nearly knocked Aglain over in her rush before she righted him and pushed them both back towards the path that led to the hut. It was too late though, as the portal surged, its borders expanded now to a circle of stones Merlin only noticed by their glow. Three men stepped through, one in the robes of the Suaimhneas, and two in the armour of an enemy Arthur knew too well.
“Cenred,” Arthur breathed. Though the king in question was not present, the two men were definitely part of his guard, and they turned at the sound and noticed the others gathered in the clearing.
The next bit was a blur to Merlin. Swords clashed and Gwen defended Morgana until she was back on her feet and could fight on her own, Arthur and James took on the second guard while Lancelot and Arain tried to stop the man in the Suaimhneas cloak from getting away. There was the smoke of a transportation spell and then there was a flash of a blade far too close to Merlin for comfort. His talisman burned brightly and the edge missed its mark, sliding harmlessly along the links of his sleeve instead. He knew better than to rely on a tiny bit of stone and herbs though, and brought his own sword up in defence.
It was unnecessary though, as Arthur shouldered the man away from him and towards where Lancelot awaited. James had moved to help Gwen and Morgana and though they would have preferred to keep both men alive for questioning, Lancelot’s man made a strike too close and received a blade in his gut in return, and Morgana’s man had his throat slit by Morgana herself when he backed Gwen against a tree and ignored the threat of the noblewoman behind him.
Morgana stepped over him and knelt at the side of the man next to Merlin instead. “Why?” she demanded, though she only received a gurgled breath in reply. She closed her eyes and placed her hand atop the man’s heaving chest and asked the question once more. A tilt of her head to the side and she nodded, the man’s final gasp ignored as she stood.
“My Lady, what did you discover?” James asked. He wiped his blade on the edge of his tunic and sheathed it as he awaited her response.
“Cenred,” she growled. She turned to Arthur and her eyes flash with anger, though not with magic. “The Cenred from your realm is working with the Suaimhneas from your realm. They are to assault your ranks and preferably kill you, to weaken Camelot’s defences prior to Cenred’s attempt to attack the castle. He has promised them that magic shall be free and that they will have retribution for the deaths of their brothers at your father’s hands.”
Arthur snorted in disgust. “Cenred has never held true to a single promise made,” he reasoned. “Should they do his bidding, he will reward them only with death as they would potentially pose a challenge to him as well.”
“But the Suaimhneas do not know that,” James guessed. “They may suspect, but they would trust in the word of someone claiming to support them versus a man who has killed their own kind. If he is one of the few whose thoughts are protected, they would easily follow his promises until proven otherwise.”
Aglain joined them now, whispering words of passing over the bodies before he offered, “If the Suaimhneas of your realm requested sanctuary from the Suaimhneas from this realm, it would have been granted. They are brothers of a sort, though they have suffered separately and have different goals. If they claimed solely to want a safe place free from your realm’s persecution, Eloran would have offered them refuge.”
“A refuge they abused,” Merlin guessed.
“They used this land as a base of operations and, when your friend discovered their deceit, they removed him from the equation,” Arthur reasoned.
“It does seem likely,” Aglain agreed. Merlin could not tell if he was saddened by the loss of his friend, or pleased that he had been vindicated of any darker association with the attacks. Perhaps a bit of both really, though Merlin knew no one present would blame him for either.
“So what do we do now?” Merlin asked. “We know their plan, but how do we stop it?”
“I believe we have greater things to worry about,” Lancelot cut in. He looked behind him more than once, but Merlin could find nothing but trees and more trees from his current position.
“Greater than a planned threat to a kingdom by a man who knows how to cross realms and is fairly likely to set his sights on this one when he’s done with ours?” Arthur asked in disbelief.
Lancelot did not even blink at his tone, but instead replied, “Given that one of your assassins got away and is likely seeking reinforcements to stop us from warning either side? Yes, I believe so.”
Arthur conceded the point, but also added, “If he used that spell of his he could be anywhere, how are we to find him?”
“The thread of magic remains. There is the possibility we can use this thread to discover where he reappeared,” Aglain told him in his usual enigmatic way.
“Or there’s the fact that they have only used it for short distances thus far and are likely close by,” Morgana added far more practically.
“Did you see anything when you read that man’s mind?” Merlin asked hopefully.
She shook her head, a strand of near black working its way free from her elaborate knots as it caught on her armour. “No, though we could always just follow the path,” she shrugged.
Merlin watched as Arthur winced at the obviousness of it all. The contingent from Camelot followed a path here. The Suaimhneas followed a path here, and the guard were probably going to return along that same path. Throw in a trained tracker or two, which would easily be assumed to exist within their group, and they should be able to find wherever the rest of the Suaimhneas made their home. Then again, they should also be walking into a trap, so there was that, but he knew enough about the people gathered to know they would take their chances.
“Go to Efraran and tell him to request reinforcements,” Morgana ordered Arain. The knight nodded and darted back to where the other man waited with the horses. Now they may still be walking into a trap, but at least there was the chance of eventual reinforcements. Not an ideal situation, but better than they had previously and likely as good as they were going to get.
Aglain insisted upon doing something to the stones around the portal. To Merlin, it appeared he was simply destroying the outer circle, moving the pieces inwards towards where the Suaimhneas had cast their spell. The portal seemed to condense further under his ministrations, however, so whatever he was doing was having an obvious effect. At Merlin’s questioning gaze, Aglain explained, “This portal is far weaker than the one in the castle. A great deal of magic is used to keep it active enough to allow the men to traverse it. If we disrupt that magic, we disrupt that travel.”
“And hopefully prevent Cenred from sending through more guards while we’re dealing with the ones already here,” he guessed. He took Aglain’s tilt of his head to mean he was correct, but had to ask, “Is there no way to just close it and be done with it?”
Aglain shook his head. “I can no more close this one than I can the one in the castle,” he said apologetically. “We can constrain it to its smallest size, and remove the source of the magic that makes it larger, but no more.”
“And removing the source involves removing whatever the Suaimhneas are doing,” Arthur speculated, earning his own tilt in response.
“Then we need to find them before they are given a chance to renew their spells,” Morgana pointed out. Merlin understood the extra meaning in her words, which was that dallying about was not going to help them or forestall the inevitable, so they might as well approach it head on.
The remaining group moved towards where she had indicated, but Merlin stopped Lancelot as he walked by. “You’re bleeding,” he announced.
“It’s but a scratch,” Lancelot protested.
“We have men using poisons that kill with the slightest touch,” James pointed out. “Any and all wounds are to be treated immediately.”
Lancelot acquiesced enough to let Merlin and Aglain look at his wound. It was a thin line along his forearm where his gauntlet ended, barely breaking the skin and not quite the length of his little finger. Merlin let out a breath he did not realise he had been holding when he saw the wound was free from green and black. He looked over to the anxiously waiting Gwen and nodded in reassurance to see some of the tension leave her shoulders at the news.
Lancelot did not wish to weaken Aglain by using his healing Gifts for such a small scratch, not when there would be potential need for far heavier magics in the near future, so they settled for wrapping it in a clean strip of cloth to prevent the risk of infection until they could deal with it more suitably later.
Finally, with the knowledge that the Suaimhneas now had a great deal of a head start, they moved towards the tiny path. James led the way, Arthur at his side as they tracked the footprints through the dirt and leaves. Lancelot fell back to the rear of the group to serve as defence from anything lurking behind them and if he happened to take a little longer than usual at his wife’s side or she offered him more than a squeeze of a hand in support, no one mentioned it at all.
The path wound through the woods for quite a ways and dipped down near a trickle of a creek before it arched back up towards what looked to be several caves. The traffic here was much more evident, even if the abandoned pot near one of the entrances was not a clear give away.
“We go into those caves and they have the clear advantage,” James warned, stopping the party just where the trees thinned. “They will know the layout and every nook and cranny to hide in, not to mention the dangers of fighting in such closed quarters.”
Arthur and Morgana shared looks of agreement at the counsel, but it turned out that such a warning was entirely unnecessary. About a half-dozen men streamed from the caves, some of which still wore the cloaks of the Suaimhneas, and some simple tunics and leggings. There was no clear military leader from what Merlin could make out, which would explain why they were foolish enough to give up such an obvious advantage.
“Unless, of course, they are hiding something within,” Aglain’s voice rang in his mind. Merlin inwardly winced knowing that such a thing was not only possible, but probably likely as well.
The Suaimhneas men formed a rough circle around the cave, all clearly armed and some with more than one weapon. Their blades gleamed as though recently cleaned though, with no trace of the poison in sight. That was, of course, until one of the men took out his dirk and the edges were clearly dripping with the liquid.
“Don’t let that blade near you,” Merlin warned.
“Always sound advice in any battle,” Arthur smirked as he stepped forward. They were fairly evenly matched, especially when accounting for the fact that there was little chance of Aglain raising a weapon to any living being. Merlin knew he would defend the others with magic if need be, but he would never go on the offensive.
“The Pendragons have come to us,” the man with the dirk announced to the others gathered. “They have made our task far easier than we could have hoped.”
Merlin caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Another man slowly tucked his hand deep within the folds of his cloak, only to reveal a dagger also tainted green. In a breath, that dagger sailed through the air towards Arthur. Merlin felt the magic alight in his veins and barely even had to think before the blade was deflected and embedded itself deep in the trunk of a nearby tree. He could feel more than see the second blade coming at him, but only had a rough idea of what direction, so he ignored the urge to seek it out magically and settled for knocking Arthur to the ground instead, the knife sailing harmlessly over his head to rest near the edge of the clearing.
“Perhaps not so easy,” Morgana told the man, her eyes now burning a molten gold. The blade rose and soared back in the direction of the cave and a man that Merlin could only assume was its owner fell to the ground gasping as the black spirals began to take over.
Most of the men took that as a signal to attack and once more Merlin’s ears rang with the sound of steel upon steel. Arthur had righted himself and was charging at one man while James and Lancelot each had one of their own. Gwen and Morgana stayed a little further back, warily sizing up their opponents, while Merlin watched the man who was remotely in charge of the whole thing slink back towards the caves, a feeling of unease growing in the pit of his stomach.
A man made a slice at him but, with Gwen’s help, he was able to push him back. Another blade flew through the air, this one clearly earmarked for him, but he was able to deflect that one as well. Or at least he thought it was him; Aglain and Morgana each had their hands raised and the feeling of magic and power that surrounded him was beginning to make things a little more than a little confusing. He just hoped Arthur had not seen anything or, if he did, that he assumed it was the other sorcerers and not him who had managed the feat.
“I will keep your secret for as long as I can, but it may be difficult under the circumstances,” Morgana hissed, words sounding both in his head and outwardly as she blocked another charge.
Merlin knew that, if they could just get room to breathe, the three of them - he, Aglain, and Morgana - would be able to take care of all of the attackers at once, a single burst to knock them down and hopefully out and, more importantly, to stop any further attack before the Suaimhneas men remembered just where their poison stash was and decided just to toss that about as well.
It was not to be, however, as the man with the dirk returned, an unfortunately familiar face at his side. The man from the castle, Merlin’s castle not Morgana’s, the one with the scar on his face and the bracelet on his wrist stood at his side. Merlin wanted to question why they hung back and did not join in the fray, but the answer became apparent soon enough as even the men actively fighting began to back away.
A sound like iron against stone, scratching and scritching and echoing off the cave walls, drew his attention to the darkened opening. At first, there was nothing save for that noise and the ragged breaths of those who had been fighting. Then, the sun glinted off a twin set of eyes far larger than a normal dog’s or even horse’s. The duo slithered scraped forward into the light, long scarred tails swishing this way and that, knocking over a stray bucket and even causing one of the Suaimhneas to stumble against their force.
“What, in all that is holy, are those?” Arthur demanded as he backed up into a more defensive position.
“Wyvern,” Aglain said. He edged forward slightly to take in the sight for himself. “Vicious beasts and protective of those who hold the spell upon them.”
“Well, we can guess who that would be,” Arthur swallowed. One of the beasts snapped its enormous jaws and Merlin could have sworn his very bones vibrated with the action.
His head was swimming, filled with sylabant hissing and half-formed images of cages and collars and torment. His talisman burned bright, the heat of it singeing even though his armour, or at least it felt that way to him. There was something familiar though, a thread of the known woven in with the chaos.
“How do we defeat them?” Arthur demanded.
“They are extremely difficult to kill simply for their size alone,” Aglain replied. His own hands were raised and Merlin believed the Druid now felt fighting was most definitely an option. “Much like a dragon though, there is a weak spot along their throat where their jaw meets their neck.”
Merlin’s head whipped around at that, pieces falling into place. Arthur continued on about how wonderfully easy it should all be in a sarcastic tone while he, James, and Lancelot fanned out in preparation of the attack, but Merlin had to ask, “Are they related to the dragons?”
Aglain nodded. “Of course. Distant cousins, but they are of the same species.”
“What is it, Merlin?” Morgana asked, her own sword at the ready and curiosity piqued.
“Does the name Balinor mean anything to you?” Merlin swallowed, fighting the fear and panic building in his chest.
“Yes,” she confirmed, though clearly not seeing the point if the expression on her face was anything to go by. “He was one of the Dragonlords loyal to Camelot. He and several others were taken by Cenred, tortured and then killed when they refused to do his bidding. So very few of their kind remain, if any at all.” She paused and her green eyes narrowed in Merlin’s direction. “Why, what was he to you?”
“Dead,” Arthur replied sullenly, but his words were drowned out by Merlin’s admission of, “He was my father.”
Arthur whipped around at that, so very many emotions playing across his features. Disbelief, sorrow, and even a hint of betrayal warred for dominance before he grunted, “And you couldn’t tell me this at the time?”
Merlin did not have time to deal with Arthur’s pending temper tantrum, or even Morgana’s verbose and varied profanity, as the wyverns chose that moment to attack. Jaws open, wings outspread, they leapt more than flew towards the gathered group. A tail knocked James back, and Lancelot stood over him while he regained his footing, both keeping their swords drawn and tracking the beasts’ every movement.
Merlin took a deep breath and could feel the magic flow within him, pushing the chaos into form until he roared with a language he barely understood. “Dragons! What are you doing? What have you become?” he shouted, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.
“Our masters ordered us such,” the one on the left hissed in response. Merlin noticed the slight pause though, the way it hung back slightly and did not continue its attack.
“And why are they your masters?” he asked. “They keep you caged, harm you until you do their bidding. Why would you obey such a master when given the chance to be set free?” The images came to his mind as though he had seen them himself, and he knew they were true.
“He is a Dragonlord,” the one on the right replied, voice like grinding metal. “We must do as he commands.”
“Really?” Merlin asked doubtfully. He raised his eyebrows and knew he was slipping from the voice of control. “So am I, and I order you to stop.”
Both wyverns paused at that, unmoving save for their tails swishing behind them.
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and wondered if this might just work. Right up until the man with the scar began to shout.
“What is he saying?” Arthur demanded, but Merlin had no chance to respond. The voice was loud and as commanding in his own head as he knew it must have been for the wyverns. He was ordered them to attack again, threatened them with dire retribution should they refuse.
The beasts approached again, but seemed almost torn between doing what their master said versus what Merlin requested. Merlin tried again and again, fearing from the hesitation of the one on the left that the situation was about to devolve into one beast against the other, the gathered humans casualties of their fight.
The man with the scar growled something new, and the next thing Merlin knew he was being tossed to the forest floor, a heaving Arthur on top of him, the metal of his armour cutting painfully into his skin. It was no beast that had attacked though, but one of the Suaimhneas. They had apparently finally figured out he was what was stopping their little pets from destroying their enemy.
Arthur dragged Merlin back upright and put himself between the lone man who approached and the wyverns that circled back around now that they no longer had Merlin telling them not to. “Can you protect him?” Arthur demanded. It took Merlin a moment to realise he spoke to Morgana. It took him a moment more to realise she was nodded in assent.
“I believe so,” she told him. She sheathed her sword and held up her arms, and soon sparks and light arced between her fingertips.
Merlin turned to see Aglain pushing forth a ball of gold that spread and grew to nearly encompass him, to form a moveable ward or shield of some sort. It was enough to surround Merlin, with both himself and Morgana tucked up against the edges.
Arthur turned to Lancelot and Gwen and ordered, “Protect them, we’ll go after their gamekeeper.” He motioned to James who stepped readily forward, only to dodge the jaws and claws of the beasts Merlin did not yet have back under his control.
Merlin began again, coaxing, luring, stressing how he was simply asking the animals not to continue their attack in contrast to the man who threatened them. He saw images of how they were harmed, beaten into submission, caged and starved until they fully bent to that man’s will, how they were ordered to kill the people who had previously fed them, rip them apart and menace their families. He made promises that he hoped were not idle, that he would never request such things from them, that he only wanted them to stop hurting people, stop hurting his friends, and that they would try their very best to set things right again.
He felt their indecision like a pressure within his mind, the other man’s voice still echoing, still commanding. He drew down as deep as he could and tried to remember everything the dragon taught him, everything his father never said, everything he had the potential to be, and shouted a single word: “Stop!”
When he could breathe again, that word still reverberated in his mind, in his ears, and seemingly in his very bones. The wyverns were frozen in place, looking more like statues than living beings. James picked himself up with Arthur’s help, and the two of them charged at the Suaimhneas, Aglain and Morgana adding their magic to break any shields put up by their floundering sorcerers, until the scarred Dragonlord was held at the tip of Arthur’s sword, back against stone and vine.
“Kill him!” the Dragonlord demanded, but he had slipped from the voice that commanded the beasts and back into his frantic own. Two men surged forward, and two men fell to the ground under Gwen and Lancelot’s blades.
“You have not won,” the man seethed.
“Really?” Arthur asked, the tip of his sword just barely breaking the tender skin at the base of the man’s throat. “Because it truly seems as though we have.”
The man lurched, hand flailing for something at his belt, but before James could even shout a warning and long before the hidden knife was any sort of threat to Arthur, the prince pressed forward and ended it once and for all.
Merlin’s shoulders sagged with relief. The shield still glowed bright around him, and the remaining Suaimhneas looked as though they were debating the benefits of staying to fight or running away to regroup later. “You’re free,” he told the wyvern.
The beasts looked at him in what could only be a questioning manner, then to each other. He could pick up parts of their thoughts, parts of their shared conversations, images of their love and bonding with one another, images of everything they had gone through. “We bend to your will, Dragonlord,” the first one told him. It slithered slightly into a near bow and its mate followed suit.
“My will is that you be free,” Merlin replied, hoping that he was not making a drastic mistake.
There were more of the images, this time they included deep cuts that dripped dark ichors from a scaled side and was boiled and burned to create a green sludge. These were followed by the images of another wyvern, far smaller than the other two, the way it curled up and whimpered while the others thrashed in their cages, and then that same wyvern laying lifeless, eyes staring into the darkness but seeing nothing. Merlin knew at that moment exactly what he would find should he search the cave, just as he knew he never wished to do so.
“Are we free to seek our vengeance?” the second wyvern asked. The cloaks of the Suaimhneas were the only thing that filled his vision now.
“You are free,” Merlin promised.
He was not surprised when the beasts turned at that, nor was he surprised by the resulting screams as the remaining Suaimhneas attempted to flee, including several more that had stayed within the sanctuary of the cave up until this point.
He did not remember much after that, just how his knees somehow hit the ground and armoured arms supported him and tried to position him more comfortably. He opened his eyes to see steel met with steel so very near him, and then a clawed paw taking the source of one of those steels away.
He thought he only blinked, but Arthur was suddenly over him, gloved hand resting upon his cheek. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” Arthur asked, and Merlin was not certain how to respond.
It turned out that he did not need to as Aglain spoke for him. He explained how the fight took so much out of him, but that he only needed to rest and he should be fine. Merlin thought that made sense and, with his heavy limbs pulling him down, so no reason why he could not do so right then and there.
Aglain’s voice chuckled within his mind. “You have yet another task before you rest, young Dragonlord,” he warned.
Merlin knew what that was just as much as he knew the older sorcerer was probably lying and that they would make him travel all the way back to the castle before he could sleep. Thankfully, this one was far easier and involved as set or much calmer, much sated, wyverns. Promises made and as much of an order as he dared given, he let his eyes drift shut and the world around him fade away.
As expected, he awoke before long, the thunder of footfalls drawing him out of slumber as much as Arthur’s soft touch at his brow. “Come on,” Arthur urged. “Let’s get you up before you get trampled.”
Merlin blinked to clear his vision and found Arain had returned with reinforcements. Those reinforcements immediately headed for the cave upon Morgana’s orders, which at least meant he did not have to. There was no sign of the wyverns, but that did not fully surprise him. He had promised them their freedom, so who was he to question them taking it? What did surprise him was the fact he had apparently been moved once already in his sleep. He now lay near a shady copse of trees, something at least remotely soft and warm beneath his head.
He turned his head to find fabric, and traced that fabric up to chain mail up to Arthur’s amused face. “Interesting pillow,” he managed, wondering why his voice sounded off to his own ears.
Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, but the tips of his ear seemed to change to the slightest hue of pink. “Well, you did not complain at the time,” he said gruffly.
He pushed at Merlin to get him up and into a sitting position, but Merlin fought it for only the briefest of moments to say, “No, I did not. Thank you.”
The pink turned a slightly darker hue and a waterskin was shoved roughly into his hands. “You sound awful,” Arthur complained. “I think those wyverns themselves sounded better than you do right now.”
Merlin let the words roll off him and the water roll down his parched throat. He could only imagine the coarseness was from speaking the language of the dragons and their kind, and was not sure what else to do about it save for drink and rest as much as he could. This plan also had the added benefit of putting off the no doubt waiting discussion with Arthur regarding Balinor and his heritage, as well as what other things Merlin could do besides order large scaly animals about.
Soon enough he was pulled to his feet, though Arthur remained by his side as he wavered and yawned. They trudged the path back to the portal, which was as small as ever and guarded by two of Morgana’s men, and then back further to the waiting horses. He climbed aboard and wondered if he could fall asleep in the saddle, or if that would be frowned upon. When Arthur knowingly took his reins, he figured it was more expected than not and went about seeing if it was even possible.
The ride to the castle was thankfully uneventful, and Merlin even managed to remember most of it. At least he thought he did though it was entirely possible that he just had incredibly boring dreams. He was not allowed to go straight to sleep, however, as the entire party was required to check in with the king and queen.
Aglain and he tried their best to explain about the wyverns. Aglain went on about how they were the source of the poison and, without their assistance, the chances of producing such a deadly toxin were near nonexistent. It was entirely possible that Cenred and his men, on both sides, had a cache of the poison, however, so future vigilance was warranted.
Merlin then had the difficult task of explaining that the wyverns were no longer a threat. He also added that they may, in truth, be an asset as he asked them to look after the portal and to make sure that no unauthorised people crossed over, and that the authorised people would be marked by the colours of Camelot and the word of Morgana alone.
“How can you be certain they will fulfil such an order?” Uther asked doubtingly.
Merlin shrugged, feeling the day’s battle in every muscle and bone that protested the action. “Because I asked,” he said simply, not knowing what else to say.
His quiet confidence was apparently enough for Uther, who sent them on their way. He did not doubt that more than a single guard would be assigned watch of that area, just as he did not doubt a similar watch would be placed upon their own lands. He just had no idea how they were going to manage that without the mention of copious use of magic to his version of Uther, who he feared would be far less understanding.
Ygraine stopped him as he left, the doors to the Council room still open. He could see Arthur await him outside, still ill at ease in front of the woman who could have been his mother. “Something troubles you,” Ygraine guessed.
Merlin knew there was no point in hiding it, so he nodded and admitted, “Yes, there is.”
“Is it the explanation of your magic to one raised to fear it?” she supposed, and he knew there was no way he should ever expect to hide anything from anyone with the name Pendragon.
“He could kill me for treason to the crown or, worse, send me away, banish me from Camelot,” Merlin admitted. “If his father discovered what I am, who I am, I would be as good as dead.” His voice was tinged with fear, though he knew it was only a shadow of what he felt churn inside him. So much could be lost, and he had no idea how he could cope with it should the worst come to light.
“Surely he would not betray you - you saved his life. To save a life is a bond of trust that must never be questioned,” Ygraine said, aghast.
Merlin looked longingly to where Arthur waited, and said, “I can’t put him in that position, me against his father, against everything he was taught?”
“But he has discovered that what he was taught was lies,” Ygraine pointed out. Merlin wanted to hope that would be enough, but could not be certain. Something must have shown on his face as she bent near and placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. “If it comes down to it, you will always have a place here. We would welcome you with open arms,” she whispered.
“I know you would,” Merlin told her, even though he knew it would tear him to pieces to accept such an offer.
They said their goodbyes, at least for the evening, and she pressed a scrap of parchment into his hands. He read it quickly and realised it was a transportation spell of his own, penned in Morgana’s distinctive penmanship, that would take him from wherever he may be to the portal within the castle.
He understood her meaning: no matter where he was, there would always be a way to safety.
He nodded his thanks and joined Arthur in the hallway. “Will you stay?” Arthur asked quietly while they walked. A guard followed them, but gave them their peace.
“Tonight? Yes,” Merlin yawned. “There is no telling what time it is on the other side and I for one do not need to be fetching your dinner or drawing your bath as exhausted as I am right now.”
Arthur chuckled and led him to the armoury, where he helped strip him of the hauberk and weaponry. His own fingers fumbled with the buckles on Arthur’s armour until they were swatted away and one of the pages did it instead. Free of gear, they made their way back to their rooms to find heated baths and steaming plates of food awaiting them.
Merlin was torn between the three choices laid before him as the bed looked so soft and inviting, but Arthur solved at least one of the problems and dragged two chairs next to the baths and placed the plates of food upon them. He tugged on the laces of Merlin’s tunic and carefully tucked the talisman beneath it before he pulled the fabric up and over Merlin’s head and tossed it to the side. His gaze lingered on the thin red line that still marred the pale skin, and his fingertips reached out to trace it, seemingly of their own accord.
Reluctantly, Arthur raised his gaze to meet Merlin’s questioning own and, in a voice that reminded Merlin that the man before him would some day become the great king of Camelot and possibly so much more, promised, “I will never betray you.”
Merlin placed his own chilled hand above Arthur’s warmed one and whispered, “I know.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew them to be true.
Later, after warm baths and warm wine, after sinking deep beneath the water only to be poked and prodded until he rose again with a sheepish grin, after the plates were cleared and very little of the detritus remained, Merlin finally climbed under the heavy blankets and rest his head atop soft down. When Arthur closed the tiny distance behind him and pulled him close, he did not resist, nor was he surprised.
The next morning, Morgana stopped him when they returned to the portal room. Arthur was clad again in his practice gear, but Merlin’s tattered tunic once again had disappeared without a trace and so he wore the simplest of the ones this realm had on offer. She handed Arthur a parcel that Merlin was fairly certain held a distinctive goget and pauldron, and handed Merlin a bundle of cloth that was likely the equivalent of a clothing allowance for the year back home. “You do not need to go,” she told him.
Merlin looked to the portal and thought of the realm it led to, a land where his kind suffered and where he lived in near squalor compared to the riches of this side. He thought of how it was his destiny to change that, to endure a fair amount of pain and hardship as he attempted to coax the future king away from the ways of the old. He thought of how it would not be easy, not like a life here with comforts and warmth and respect for just being who he was born to be.
He turned to Morgana and said, “Yes, I do.”
She smiled, knowingly yet chagrined, but was far outshined by the way Arthur beamed at his side. They said their final goodbyes, gave handshakes and hugs as needed, and then turned once more to face the shimmering curtain of gold.
“Let’s go home,” Arthur whispered.
Merlin took the offered hand and held tight as they stepped back through to destiny.
End.
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This entry was originally posted at http://cat-77.dreamwidth.org/343705.html. Current comments
Genre: pre-slash: Arthur/Merlin, tiny bit of het: Gwen/Lancelot
Rating: R for violence
Length: ~45,000 words - Complete
Spoilers: Through Series 2, AU after the end of Series 2
Warnings: Violence, death of minor original characters
Synopsis: A portal has opened in Gaius’ rooms between Merlin’s realm and one very much like it, only on the other side magic was never banned and can be used freely without pain of death. Needless to say, Merlin has fallen through this portal more than once.
Author’s Notes: OMG, it’s done! Oh-so-many thanks to the awesome threnodyjones for the beta job on this monster, and to all the excellent cheerleaders over at
camelot_fleet for their support as I tried to wrap this up for the Finish-a-thon. This ended up far longer than originally intended, but tells the tale I wanted to get out, so I hope people are willing to give it a chance.
Secondary Notes: Suaimhneas = Irish for quiet, peaceful.
Synopsis: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
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Dreamwidth Links:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
For long moments, they waited. When it appeared he would not return, Arthur led the way back into the clearing while Morgana whispered orders to those with little to no magical ability to stay away from the stones lest they wish for an unscheduled journey to someplace they probably did not want to be. Aglain whispered words of his own and the portal glowed slightly brighter for a moment, at least in Merlin’s eyes, after which Lancelot physically jumped back at its presence, leading Merlin to believe it was now visible for everyone present.
He, Aglain, and Morgana immediately began to discuss the possibility of a second portal on the other side as well, no doubt matching the location of this one. They also tried to reason the meaning behind the change in colours, but could only guess that it was a way to travel to a different portal than the one their own would naturally go to. In this case, Merlin was willing to bet one of his precious few coins that the second man ended up in Gaius’ workroom just now, just as the he was willing to bet the first man had ended up in this clearing when he and Arthur made the journey to this side. When to portal returned to its golden hue, it had returned to its natural position, which is why they ended up back in the castle when they stepped through.
Morgana wondered if it had anything to do with the assassins’ apparent love for transportation spells, and Aglain tried to remember anything that would make such a thing possible, but needed more research to be certain. Merlin, however, was distracted by the way the portal’s glow grew once more, brilliant gold though there was no one on this side controlling it.
“Uh, Arthur?” he swallowed.
Even though Arthur was on the other side of the clearing, he was first to Merlin’s side. He tugged on Merlin’s collar and ordered, “Get out of there!” while dragging him towards where Lancelot and James already had their swords out and were advancing.
Gwen pulled Morgana to the side, and nearly knocked Aglain over in her rush before she righted him and pushed them both back towards the path that led to the hut. It was too late though, as the portal surged, its borders expanded now to a circle of stones Merlin only noticed by their glow. Three men stepped through, one in the robes of the Suaimhneas, and two in the armour of an enemy Arthur knew too well.
“Cenred,” Arthur breathed. Though the king in question was not present, the two men were definitely part of his guard, and they turned at the sound and noticed the others gathered in the clearing.
The next bit was a blur to Merlin. Swords clashed and Gwen defended Morgana until she was back on her feet and could fight on her own, Arthur and James took on the second guard while Lancelot and Arain tried to stop the man in the Suaimhneas cloak from getting away. There was the smoke of a transportation spell and then there was a flash of a blade far too close to Merlin for comfort. His talisman burned brightly and the edge missed its mark, sliding harmlessly along the links of his sleeve instead. He knew better than to rely on a tiny bit of stone and herbs though, and brought his own sword up in defence.
It was unnecessary though, as Arthur shouldered the man away from him and towards where Lancelot awaited. James had moved to help Gwen and Morgana and though they would have preferred to keep both men alive for questioning, Lancelot’s man made a strike too close and received a blade in his gut in return, and Morgana’s man had his throat slit by Morgana herself when he backed Gwen against a tree and ignored the threat of the noblewoman behind him.
Morgana stepped over him and knelt at the side of the man next to Merlin instead. “Why?” she demanded, though she only received a gurgled breath in reply. She closed her eyes and placed her hand atop the man’s heaving chest and asked the question once more. A tilt of her head to the side and she nodded, the man’s final gasp ignored as she stood.
“My Lady, what did you discover?” James asked. He wiped his blade on the edge of his tunic and sheathed it as he awaited her response.
“Cenred,” she growled. She turned to Arthur and her eyes flash with anger, though not with magic. “The Cenred from your realm is working with the Suaimhneas from your realm. They are to assault your ranks and preferably kill you, to weaken Camelot’s defences prior to Cenred’s attempt to attack the castle. He has promised them that magic shall be free and that they will have retribution for the deaths of their brothers at your father’s hands.”
Arthur snorted in disgust. “Cenred has never held true to a single promise made,” he reasoned. “Should they do his bidding, he will reward them only with death as they would potentially pose a challenge to him as well.”
“But the Suaimhneas do not know that,” James guessed. “They may suspect, but they would trust in the word of someone claiming to support them versus a man who has killed their own kind. If he is one of the few whose thoughts are protected, they would easily follow his promises until proven otherwise.”
Aglain joined them now, whispering words of passing over the bodies before he offered, “If the Suaimhneas of your realm requested sanctuary from the Suaimhneas from this realm, it would have been granted. They are brothers of a sort, though they have suffered separately and have different goals. If they claimed solely to want a safe place free from your realm’s persecution, Eloran would have offered them refuge.”
“A refuge they abused,” Merlin guessed.
“They used this land as a base of operations and, when your friend discovered their deceit, they removed him from the equation,” Arthur reasoned.
“It does seem likely,” Aglain agreed. Merlin could not tell if he was saddened by the loss of his friend, or pleased that he had been vindicated of any darker association with the attacks. Perhaps a bit of both really, though Merlin knew no one present would blame him for either.
“So what do we do now?” Merlin asked. “We know their plan, but how do we stop it?”
“I believe we have greater things to worry about,” Lancelot cut in. He looked behind him more than once, but Merlin could find nothing but trees and more trees from his current position.
“Greater than a planned threat to a kingdom by a man who knows how to cross realms and is fairly likely to set his sights on this one when he’s done with ours?” Arthur asked in disbelief.
Lancelot did not even blink at his tone, but instead replied, “Given that one of your assassins got away and is likely seeking reinforcements to stop us from warning either side? Yes, I believe so.”
Arthur conceded the point, but also added, “If he used that spell of his he could be anywhere, how are we to find him?”
“The thread of magic remains. There is the possibility we can use this thread to discover where he reappeared,” Aglain told him in his usual enigmatic way.
“Or there’s the fact that they have only used it for short distances thus far and are likely close by,” Morgana added far more practically.
“Did you see anything when you read that man’s mind?” Merlin asked hopefully.
She shook her head, a strand of near black working its way free from her elaborate knots as it caught on her armour. “No, though we could always just follow the path,” she shrugged.
Merlin watched as Arthur winced at the obviousness of it all. The contingent from Camelot followed a path here. The Suaimhneas followed a path here, and the guard were probably going to return along that same path. Throw in a trained tracker or two, which would easily be assumed to exist within their group, and they should be able to find wherever the rest of the Suaimhneas made their home. Then again, they should also be walking into a trap, so there was that, but he knew enough about the people gathered to know they would take their chances.
“Go to Efraran and tell him to request reinforcements,” Morgana ordered Arain. The knight nodded and darted back to where the other man waited with the horses. Now they may still be walking into a trap, but at least there was the chance of eventual reinforcements. Not an ideal situation, but better than they had previously and likely as good as they were going to get.
Aglain insisted upon doing something to the stones around the portal. To Merlin, it appeared he was simply destroying the outer circle, moving the pieces inwards towards where the Suaimhneas had cast their spell. The portal seemed to condense further under his ministrations, however, so whatever he was doing was having an obvious effect. At Merlin’s questioning gaze, Aglain explained, “This portal is far weaker than the one in the castle. A great deal of magic is used to keep it active enough to allow the men to traverse it. If we disrupt that magic, we disrupt that travel.”
“And hopefully prevent Cenred from sending through more guards while we’re dealing with the ones already here,” he guessed. He took Aglain’s tilt of his head to mean he was correct, but had to ask, “Is there no way to just close it and be done with it?”
Aglain shook his head. “I can no more close this one than I can the one in the castle,” he said apologetically. “We can constrain it to its smallest size, and remove the source of the magic that makes it larger, but no more.”
“And removing the source involves removing whatever the Suaimhneas are doing,” Arthur speculated, earning his own tilt in response.
“Then we need to find them before they are given a chance to renew their spells,” Morgana pointed out. Merlin understood the extra meaning in her words, which was that dallying about was not going to help them or forestall the inevitable, so they might as well approach it head on.
The remaining group moved towards where she had indicated, but Merlin stopped Lancelot as he walked by. “You’re bleeding,” he announced.
“It’s but a scratch,” Lancelot protested.
“We have men using poisons that kill with the slightest touch,” James pointed out. “Any and all wounds are to be treated immediately.”
Lancelot acquiesced enough to let Merlin and Aglain look at his wound. It was a thin line along his forearm where his gauntlet ended, barely breaking the skin and not quite the length of his little finger. Merlin let out a breath he did not realise he had been holding when he saw the wound was free from green and black. He looked over to the anxiously waiting Gwen and nodded in reassurance to see some of the tension leave her shoulders at the news.
Lancelot did not wish to weaken Aglain by using his healing Gifts for such a small scratch, not when there would be potential need for far heavier magics in the near future, so they settled for wrapping it in a clean strip of cloth to prevent the risk of infection until they could deal with it more suitably later.
Finally, with the knowledge that the Suaimhneas now had a great deal of a head start, they moved towards the tiny path. James led the way, Arthur at his side as they tracked the footprints through the dirt and leaves. Lancelot fell back to the rear of the group to serve as defence from anything lurking behind them and if he happened to take a little longer than usual at his wife’s side or she offered him more than a squeeze of a hand in support, no one mentioned it at all.
The path wound through the woods for quite a ways and dipped down near a trickle of a creek before it arched back up towards what looked to be several caves. The traffic here was much more evident, even if the abandoned pot near one of the entrances was not a clear give away.
“We go into those caves and they have the clear advantage,” James warned, stopping the party just where the trees thinned. “They will know the layout and every nook and cranny to hide in, not to mention the dangers of fighting in such closed quarters.”
Arthur and Morgana shared looks of agreement at the counsel, but it turned out that such a warning was entirely unnecessary. About a half-dozen men streamed from the caves, some of which still wore the cloaks of the Suaimhneas, and some simple tunics and leggings. There was no clear military leader from what Merlin could make out, which would explain why they were foolish enough to give up such an obvious advantage.
“Unless, of course, they are hiding something within,” Aglain’s voice rang in his mind. Merlin inwardly winced knowing that such a thing was not only possible, but probably likely as well.
The Suaimhneas men formed a rough circle around the cave, all clearly armed and some with more than one weapon. Their blades gleamed as though recently cleaned though, with no trace of the poison in sight. That was, of course, until one of the men took out his dirk and the edges were clearly dripping with the liquid.
“Don’t let that blade near you,” Merlin warned.
“Always sound advice in any battle,” Arthur smirked as he stepped forward. They were fairly evenly matched, especially when accounting for the fact that there was little chance of Aglain raising a weapon to any living being. Merlin knew he would defend the others with magic if need be, but he would never go on the offensive.
“The Pendragons have come to us,” the man with the dirk announced to the others gathered. “They have made our task far easier than we could have hoped.”
Merlin caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Another man slowly tucked his hand deep within the folds of his cloak, only to reveal a dagger also tainted green. In a breath, that dagger sailed through the air towards Arthur. Merlin felt the magic alight in his veins and barely even had to think before the blade was deflected and embedded itself deep in the trunk of a nearby tree. He could feel more than see the second blade coming at him, but only had a rough idea of what direction, so he ignored the urge to seek it out magically and settled for knocking Arthur to the ground instead, the knife sailing harmlessly over his head to rest near the edge of the clearing.
“Perhaps not so easy,” Morgana told the man, her eyes now burning a molten gold. The blade rose and soared back in the direction of the cave and a man that Merlin could only assume was its owner fell to the ground gasping as the black spirals began to take over.
Most of the men took that as a signal to attack and once more Merlin’s ears rang with the sound of steel upon steel. Arthur had righted himself and was charging at one man while James and Lancelot each had one of their own. Gwen and Morgana stayed a little further back, warily sizing up their opponents, while Merlin watched the man who was remotely in charge of the whole thing slink back towards the caves, a feeling of unease growing in the pit of his stomach.
A man made a slice at him but, with Gwen’s help, he was able to push him back. Another blade flew through the air, this one clearly earmarked for him, but he was able to deflect that one as well. Or at least he thought it was him; Aglain and Morgana each had their hands raised and the feeling of magic and power that surrounded him was beginning to make things a little more than a little confusing. He just hoped Arthur had not seen anything or, if he did, that he assumed it was the other sorcerers and not him who had managed the feat.
“I will keep your secret for as long as I can, but it may be difficult under the circumstances,” Morgana hissed, words sounding both in his head and outwardly as she blocked another charge.
Merlin knew that, if they could just get room to breathe, the three of them - he, Aglain, and Morgana - would be able to take care of all of the attackers at once, a single burst to knock them down and hopefully out and, more importantly, to stop any further attack before the Suaimhneas men remembered just where their poison stash was and decided just to toss that about as well.
It was not to be, however, as the man with the dirk returned, an unfortunately familiar face at his side. The man from the castle, Merlin’s castle not Morgana’s, the one with the scar on his face and the bracelet on his wrist stood at his side. Merlin wanted to question why they hung back and did not join in the fray, but the answer became apparent soon enough as even the men actively fighting began to back away.
A sound like iron against stone, scratching and scritching and echoing off the cave walls, drew his attention to the darkened opening. At first, there was nothing save for that noise and the ragged breaths of those who had been fighting. Then, the sun glinted off a twin set of eyes far larger than a normal dog’s or even horse’s. The duo slithered scraped forward into the light, long scarred tails swishing this way and that, knocking over a stray bucket and even causing one of the Suaimhneas to stumble against their force.
“What, in all that is holy, are those?” Arthur demanded as he backed up into a more defensive position.
“Wyvern,” Aglain said. He edged forward slightly to take in the sight for himself. “Vicious beasts and protective of those who hold the spell upon them.”
“Well, we can guess who that would be,” Arthur swallowed. One of the beasts snapped its enormous jaws and Merlin could have sworn his very bones vibrated with the action.
His head was swimming, filled with sylabant hissing and half-formed images of cages and collars and torment. His talisman burned bright, the heat of it singeing even though his armour, or at least it felt that way to him. There was something familiar though, a thread of the known woven in with the chaos.
“How do we defeat them?” Arthur demanded.
“They are extremely difficult to kill simply for their size alone,” Aglain replied. His own hands were raised and Merlin believed the Druid now felt fighting was most definitely an option. “Much like a dragon though, there is a weak spot along their throat where their jaw meets their neck.”
Merlin’s head whipped around at that, pieces falling into place. Arthur continued on about how wonderfully easy it should all be in a sarcastic tone while he, James, and Lancelot fanned out in preparation of the attack, but Merlin had to ask, “Are they related to the dragons?”
Aglain nodded. “Of course. Distant cousins, but they are of the same species.”
“What is it, Merlin?” Morgana asked, her own sword at the ready and curiosity piqued.
“Does the name Balinor mean anything to you?” Merlin swallowed, fighting the fear and panic building in his chest.
“Yes,” she confirmed, though clearly not seeing the point if the expression on her face was anything to go by. “He was one of the Dragonlords loyal to Camelot. He and several others were taken by Cenred, tortured and then killed when they refused to do his bidding. So very few of their kind remain, if any at all.” She paused and her green eyes narrowed in Merlin’s direction. “Why, what was he to you?”
“Dead,” Arthur replied sullenly, but his words were drowned out by Merlin’s admission of, “He was my father.”
Arthur whipped around at that, so very many emotions playing across his features. Disbelief, sorrow, and even a hint of betrayal warred for dominance before he grunted, “And you couldn’t tell me this at the time?”
Merlin did not have time to deal with Arthur’s pending temper tantrum, or even Morgana’s verbose and varied profanity, as the wyverns chose that moment to attack. Jaws open, wings outspread, they leapt more than flew towards the gathered group. A tail knocked James back, and Lancelot stood over him while he regained his footing, both keeping their swords drawn and tracking the beasts’ every movement.
Merlin took a deep breath and could feel the magic flow within him, pushing the chaos into form until he roared with a language he barely understood. “Dragons! What are you doing? What have you become?” he shouted, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.
“Our masters ordered us such,” the one on the left hissed in response. Merlin noticed the slight pause though, the way it hung back slightly and did not continue its attack.
“And why are they your masters?” he asked. “They keep you caged, harm you until you do their bidding. Why would you obey such a master when given the chance to be set free?” The images came to his mind as though he had seen them himself, and he knew they were true.
“He is a Dragonlord,” the one on the right replied, voice like grinding metal. “We must do as he commands.”
“Really?” Merlin asked doubtfully. He raised his eyebrows and knew he was slipping from the voice of control. “So am I, and I order you to stop.”
Both wyverns paused at that, unmoving save for their tails swishing behind them.
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief and wondered if this might just work. Right up until the man with the scar began to shout.
“What is he saying?” Arthur demanded, but Merlin had no chance to respond. The voice was loud and as commanding in his own head as he knew it must have been for the wyverns. He was ordered them to attack again, threatened them with dire retribution should they refuse.
The beasts approached again, but seemed almost torn between doing what their master said versus what Merlin requested. Merlin tried again and again, fearing from the hesitation of the one on the left that the situation was about to devolve into one beast against the other, the gathered humans casualties of their fight.
The man with the scar growled something new, and the next thing Merlin knew he was being tossed to the forest floor, a heaving Arthur on top of him, the metal of his armour cutting painfully into his skin. It was no beast that had attacked though, but one of the Suaimhneas. They had apparently finally figured out he was what was stopping their little pets from destroying their enemy.
Arthur dragged Merlin back upright and put himself between the lone man who approached and the wyverns that circled back around now that they no longer had Merlin telling them not to. “Can you protect him?” Arthur demanded. It took Merlin a moment to realise he spoke to Morgana. It took him a moment more to realise she was nodded in assent.
“I believe so,” she told him. She sheathed her sword and held up her arms, and soon sparks and light arced between her fingertips.
Merlin turned to see Aglain pushing forth a ball of gold that spread and grew to nearly encompass him, to form a moveable ward or shield of some sort. It was enough to surround Merlin, with both himself and Morgana tucked up against the edges.
Arthur turned to Lancelot and Gwen and ordered, “Protect them, we’ll go after their gamekeeper.” He motioned to James who stepped readily forward, only to dodge the jaws and claws of the beasts Merlin did not yet have back under his control.
Merlin began again, coaxing, luring, stressing how he was simply asking the animals not to continue their attack in contrast to the man who threatened them. He saw images of how they were harmed, beaten into submission, caged and starved until they fully bent to that man’s will, how they were ordered to kill the people who had previously fed them, rip them apart and menace their families. He made promises that he hoped were not idle, that he would never request such things from them, that he only wanted them to stop hurting people, stop hurting his friends, and that they would try their very best to set things right again.
He felt their indecision like a pressure within his mind, the other man’s voice still echoing, still commanding. He drew down as deep as he could and tried to remember everything the dragon taught him, everything his father never said, everything he had the potential to be, and shouted a single word: “Stop!”
When he could breathe again, that word still reverberated in his mind, in his ears, and seemingly in his very bones. The wyverns were frozen in place, looking more like statues than living beings. James picked himself up with Arthur’s help, and the two of them charged at the Suaimhneas, Aglain and Morgana adding their magic to break any shields put up by their floundering sorcerers, until the scarred Dragonlord was held at the tip of Arthur’s sword, back against stone and vine.
“Kill him!” the Dragonlord demanded, but he had slipped from the voice that commanded the beasts and back into his frantic own. Two men surged forward, and two men fell to the ground under Gwen and Lancelot’s blades.
“You have not won,” the man seethed.
“Really?” Arthur asked, the tip of his sword just barely breaking the tender skin at the base of the man’s throat. “Because it truly seems as though we have.”
The man lurched, hand flailing for something at his belt, but before James could even shout a warning and long before the hidden knife was any sort of threat to Arthur, the prince pressed forward and ended it once and for all.
Merlin’s shoulders sagged with relief. The shield still glowed bright around him, and the remaining Suaimhneas looked as though they were debating the benefits of staying to fight or running away to regroup later. “You’re free,” he told the wyvern.
The beasts looked at him in what could only be a questioning manner, then to each other. He could pick up parts of their thoughts, parts of their shared conversations, images of their love and bonding with one another, images of everything they had gone through. “We bend to your will, Dragonlord,” the first one told him. It slithered slightly into a near bow and its mate followed suit.
“My will is that you be free,” Merlin replied, hoping that he was not making a drastic mistake.
There were more of the images, this time they included deep cuts that dripped dark ichors from a scaled side and was boiled and burned to create a green sludge. These were followed by the images of another wyvern, far smaller than the other two, the way it curled up and whimpered while the others thrashed in their cages, and then that same wyvern laying lifeless, eyes staring into the darkness but seeing nothing. Merlin knew at that moment exactly what he would find should he search the cave, just as he knew he never wished to do so.
“Are we free to seek our vengeance?” the second wyvern asked. The cloaks of the Suaimhneas were the only thing that filled his vision now.
“You are free,” Merlin promised.
He was not surprised when the beasts turned at that, nor was he surprised by the resulting screams as the remaining Suaimhneas attempted to flee, including several more that had stayed within the sanctuary of the cave up until this point.
He did not remember much after that, just how his knees somehow hit the ground and armoured arms supported him and tried to position him more comfortably. He opened his eyes to see steel met with steel so very near him, and then a clawed paw taking the source of one of those steels away.
He thought he only blinked, but Arthur was suddenly over him, gloved hand resting upon his cheek. “Are you alright? Are you injured?” Arthur asked, and Merlin was not certain how to respond.
It turned out that he did not need to as Aglain spoke for him. He explained how the fight took so much out of him, but that he only needed to rest and he should be fine. Merlin thought that made sense and, with his heavy limbs pulling him down, so no reason why he could not do so right then and there.
Aglain’s voice chuckled within his mind. “You have yet another task before you rest, young Dragonlord,” he warned.
Merlin knew what that was just as much as he knew the older sorcerer was probably lying and that they would make him travel all the way back to the castle before he could sleep. Thankfully, this one was far easier and involved as set or much calmer, much sated, wyverns. Promises made and as much of an order as he dared given, he let his eyes drift shut and the world around him fade away.
As expected, he awoke before long, the thunder of footfalls drawing him out of slumber as much as Arthur’s soft touch at his brow. “Come on,” Arthur urged. “Let’s get you up before you get trampled.”
Merlin blinked to clear his vision and found Arain had returned with reinforcements. Those reinforcements immediately headed for the cave upon Morgana’s orders, which at least meant he did not have to. There was no sign of the wyverns, but that did not fully surprise him. He had promised them their freedom, so who was he to question them taking it? What did surprise him was the fact he had apparently been moved once already in his sleep. He now lay near a shady copse of trees, something at least remotely soft and warm beneath his head.
He turned his head to find fabric, and traced that fabric up to chain mail up to Arthur’s amused face. “Interesting pillow,” he managed, wondering why his voice sounded off to his own ears.
Arthur shrugged nonchalantly, but the tips of his ear seemed to change to the slightest hue of pink. “Well, you did not complain at the time,” he said gruffly.
He pushed at Merlin to get him up and into a sitting position, but Merlin fought it for only the briefest of moments to say, “No, I did not. Thank you.”
The pink turned a slightly darker hue and a waterskin was shoved roughly into his hands. “You sound awful,” Arthur complained. “I think those wyverns themselves sounded better than you do right now.”
Merlin let the words roll off him and the water roll down his parched throat. He could only imagine the coarseness was from speaking the language of the dragons and their kind, and was not sure what else to do about it save for drink and rest as much as he could. This plan also had the added benefit of putting off the no doubt waiting discussion with Arthur regarding Balinor and his heritage, as well as what other things Merlin could do besides order large scaly animals about.
Soon enough he was pulled to his feet, though Arthur remained by his side as he wavered and yawned. They trudged the path back to the portal, which was as small as ever and guarded by two of Morgana’s men, and then back further to the waiting horses. He climbed aboard and wondered if he could fall asleep in the saddle, or if that would be frowned upon. When Arthur knowingly took his reins, he figured it was more expected than not and went about seeing if it was even possible.
The ride to the castle was thankfully uneventful, and Merlin even managed to remember most of it. At least he thought he did though it was entirely possible that he just had incredibly boring dreams. He was not allowed to go straight to sleep, however, as the entire party was required to check in with the king and queen.
Aglain and he tried their best to explain about the wyverns. Aglain went on about how they were the source of the poison and, without their assistance, the chances of producing such a deadly toxin were near nonexistent. It was entirely possible that Cenred and his men, on both sides, had a cache of the poison, however, so future vigilance was warranted.
Merlin then had the difficult task of explaining that the wyverns were no longer a threat. He also added that they may, in truth, be an asset as he asked them to look after the portal and to make sure that no unauthorised people crossed over, and that the authorised people would be marked by the colours of Camelot and the word of Morgana alone.
“How can you be certain they will fulfil such an order?” Uther asked doubtingly.
Merlin shrugged, feeling the day’s battle in every muscle and bone that protested the action. “Because I asked,” he said simply, not knowing what else to say.
His quiet confidence was apparently enough for Uther, who sent them on their way. He did not doubt that more than a single guard would be assigned watch of that area, just as he did not doubt a similar watch would be placed upon their own lands. He just had no idea how they were going to manage that without the mention of copious use of magic to his version of Uther, who he feared would be far less understanding.
Ygraine stopped him as he left, the doors to the Council room still open. He could see Arthur await him outside, still ill at ease in front of the woman who could have been his mother. “Something troubles you,” Ygraine guessed.
Merlin knew there was no point in hiding it, so he nodded and admitted, “Yes, there is.”
“Is it the explanation of your magic to one raised to fear it?” she supposed, and he knew there was no way he should ever expect to hide anything from anyone with the name Pendragon.
“He could kill me for treason to the crown or, worse, send me away, banish me from Camelot,” Merlin admitted. “If his father discovered what I am, who I am, I would be as good as dead.” His voice was tinged with fear, though he knew it was only a shadow of what he felt churn inside him. So much could be lost, and he had no idea how he could cope with it should the worst come to light.
“Surely he would not betray you - you saved his life. To save a life is a bond of trust that must never be questioned,” Ygraine said, aghast.
Merlin looked longingly to where Arthur waited, and said, “I can’t put him in that position, me against his father, against everything he was taught?”
“But he has discovered that what he was taught was lies,” Ygraine pointed out. Merlin wanted to hope that would be enough, but could not be certain. Something must have shown on his face as she bent near and placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead. “If it comes down to it, you will always have a place here. We would welcome you with open arms,” she whispered.
“I know you would,” Merlin told her, even though he knew it would tear him to pieces to accept such an offer.
They said their goodbyes, at least for the evening, and she pressed a scrap of parchment into his hands. He read it quickly and realised it was a transportation spell of his own, penned in Morgana’s distinctive penmanship, that would take him from wherever he may be to the portal within the castle.
He understood her meaning: no matter where he was, there would always be a way to safety.
He nodded his thanks and joined Arthur in the hallway. “Will you stay?” Arthur asked quietly while they walked. A guard followed them, but gave them their peace.
“Tonight? Yes,” Merlin yawned. “There is no telling what time it is on the other side and I for one do not need to be fetching your dinner or drawing your bath as exhausted as I am right now.”
Arthur chuckled and led him to the armoury, where he helped strip him of the hauberk and weaponry. His own fingers fumbled with the buckles on Arthur’s armour until they were swatted away and one of the pages did it instead. Free of gear, they made their way back to their rooms to find heated baths and steaming plates of food awaiting them.
Merlin was torn between the three choices laid before him as the bed looked so soft and inviting, but Arthur solved at least one of the problems and dragged two chairs next to the baths and placed the plates of food upon them. He tugged on the laces of Merlin’s tunic and carefully tucked the talisman beneath it before he pulled the fabric up and over Merlin’s head and tossed it to the side. His gaze lingered on the thin red line that still marred the pale skin, and his fingertips reached out to trace it, seemingly of their own accord.
Reluctantly, Arthur raised his gaze to meet Merlin’s questioning own and, in a voice that reminded Merlin that the man before him would some day become the great king of Camelot and possibly so much more, promised, “I will never betray you.”
Merlin placed his own chilled hand above Arthur’s warmed one and whispered, “I know.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew them to be true.
Later, after warm baths and warm wine, after sinking deep beneath the water only to be poked and prodded until he rose again with a sheepish grin, after the plates were cleared and very little of the detritus remained, Merlin finally climbed under the heavy blankets and rest his head atop soft down. When Arthur closed the tiny distance behind him and pulled him close, he did not resist, nor was he surprised.
The next morning, Morgana stopped him when they returned to the portal room. Arthur was clad again in his practice gear, but Merlin’s tattered tunic once again had disappeared without a trace and so he wore the simplest of the ones this realm had on offer. She handed Arthur a parcel that Merlin was fairly certain held a distinctive goget and pauldron, and handed Merlin a bundle of cloth that was likely the equivalent of a clothing allowance for the year back home. “You do not need to go,” she told him.
Merlin looked to the portal and thought of the realm it led to, a land where his kind suffered and where he lived in near squalor compared to the riches of this side. He thought of how it was his destiny to change that, to endure a fair amount of pain and hardship as he attempted to coax the future king away from the ways of the old. He thought of how it would not be easy, not like a life here with comforts and warmth and respect for just being who he was born to be.
He turned to Morgana and said, “Yes, I do.”
She smiled, knowingly yet chagrined, but was far outshined by the way Arthur beamed at his side. They said their final goodbyes, gave handshakes and hugs as needed, and then turned once more to face the shimmering curtain of gold.
“Let’s go home,” Arthur whispered.
Merlin took the offered hand and held tight as they stepped back through to destiny.
End.
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