Ghosts of Gorlois - 3b-2/3 - Final Part Wednesday
Title: Ghosts of Gorlois
Rating: PG-13?
Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Methos/Duncan, Ianto/Jack, Gwen Cooper, Cassandra, Kilgharrah, Others
Notes: My Slightly Cracky Fic Dedicated to the fabulous teachwriteslash
Crossover: with Merlin/Torchwood/Highlander - Includes Merlin through S3 Ep2
Summary: Sequel to Portals of Time. Ianto Jones, also known as Ifan Pendragon has a series of nightmares surrounding an army of ghosts. To stop Morgause and her ghost army, he'll need the help of his immortal friends, an enigmatic dragon, and the magic of his ancestors.
Disclaimer: BBC and Davis-Panzer drew them. I just like to color outside of their lines.
A/N: Sir Bedwyr (also know as Sir Bedivere) is considered by most Arthurian scholars to be Arthur's most trusted knight and the one whom he begged to return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake after he was wounded at the Battle of Camlann.
Quick bird reference: A red kite is a type of raptor found in Wales. Kay and Galahad are mentioned but aren't identified in this chapter. They will be in the final part.
Unbetaed, and chapter three is in three parts as the rewrite got away from me. Final part Wednesday.
A/N2: LJ was being fussy so I broke this into two parts.
Chapter 3b-2
~~~~~~~~
Glastonbury Abbey
Somerset, England
Saturday, October 30th
Morgause had spent the last two days scouring the countryside surrounding the Abbey. She had found two would be interlopers watching her the evening before, and had turned the tall blonde one into a red kite, and the dark one into a fox, amusing herself as the two of them attempted to fight their animal natures, wondering if one of them would attempt to kill the other before she let them go.
It was nearing dusk again and she had little to show for her efforts. She sat down to think, and saw a groundskeeper making his way to the bell tower at the top of the tor, muttering about the ‘holy thorn’ under his breath. Curious, she followed him up the path, watching him secure the site, before making his way back down and checking over the supposed grave of Arthur and Guinevere below. He made his way through the abbey courtyard and stopped to pat a mound of earth near the far wall and she hid behind a pillar as he said a small prayer before leaving the site to close it for the day. Morgause waited until he left, and crouched down, placing a finding stone on the ground and said the incantation she had reciting many times over the past couple of days, grinning in satisfaction as it began to grow. Running her hands over the earth, she caused the ground to fall back, exposing a long wooden box. She lifted the lid and saw the remains of a withered tree trunk inside. Stroking the trunk with her fingers, she felt the power inside of it, and with a flick of her wrist, the trunk cracked in two, exposing the white shaft of the staff hidden within.
“At last,” she whispered, freeing it from its prison and drawing it into the late afternoon sun. It was more ornately carved then the version she had held before. This staff was covered in runes and wrapped in swirls of silver, the branches at the top twisting into a dome, with a small opening to slip the power stone inside to activate it’s power. Morgause laughed as she pulled a pouch from her pocket, and unwrapped the onyx crystal within to place it inside the globe. The globe immediately filled with a blue-black ball of light, illuminating the ruins with an unearthly glow.
“Now, to claim Albion and remind all of the Britons what it means to be a true kingdom of magic!” she shouted. A dark mist swirled around her and she was gone. The forgotten fox and the kite exchanged a look, and with an collective sigh, began the long trek back down the hill towards home.
~~~~~~~~
Torchwood Three
Later that night
Jack was pacing on the catwalk above the pit of the Hub, checking over the various monitors and trying to anticipate where Morgause would strike. Most of his team was out in the field on routine retrievals, and Andy and Mickey had gone to Glastonbury the day before and not reported in since. He’d called UNIT and asked Martha to send a squad to find them, and could only hope that they were alright. Ianto, Duncan, and Rhys were on some crazy mission to a mystical island in the middle of nowhere, and he was stuck with two snarky immortals who bickered like ten year olds. As they started arguing once again, this time over whether or not Methos truly had invented beer, Jack slammed his hands down on the nearest desk.
“Would you two please shut up!” he yelled. The other two immortals jumped and turned to stare at him.
“Problem Captain?” Methos asked innocently. Jack swore in upper galactic.
“No! I enjoy listening to the two of you hash out passive aggressive bullshit for hours on end while the love of my life is off in the middle of nowhere conversing with ancient magic,” he ranted.
“I know you’re worried,” Cassandra said, rising to put her hand on his arm, “but Ifan is strong and can protect himself, you need to trust him to come back to you.” Jack placed his hand over hers and nodded, attempting to push down the fear that always crept in whenever he felt Ianto might be in danger.
“He almost died last year,” he said quietly, not meeting the other immortals' eyes. “You know what it’s like with mortals, they always seem to flash through your life like a comet; burning so bright, but if you blink they’re gone.” He looked up to where Methos stood watching him. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t,” Cassandra replied with a soft smile. “He has a great destiny before him, and this battle will only be the beginning. I’ve seen it.” She stared into the distance with a faraway look in her eyes and Jack straightened up with a sigh, putting one hand in his pocket and flicking through the images on the CCTV with the other.
“But how can you be sure?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Even magic isn't foolproof.” Cassandra glanced to Methos and he nodded, seeming to know what she was going to say.
“In all my 3,000 years, I have very rarely been wrong Jack,” she soothed. “And when I have, it has been for a very good reason. I have not seen Ifan’s death, but I have seen yours. Take comfort in the fact that when it comes, you will not be alone.” Jack stilled and turned to stare at her, resisting the urge to ask her more.
“I won’t tell you when,” she answered his questioning look with a smile. “But it will be far away from here on the other side of the galaxy, a long time from now.” Jack closed his eyes, letting the knowledge that even if it would be centuries away, at least someday there would be an end to his long existence. The sound of a rift alert broke him out of his melancholy and he began scanning the readings, looking for what had come through.
~~~~~~~~
Avalon, Isle of the Blessed
Somewhere in time
Morgana brought Ianto to a crystalline dome in the center of the great woods surrounding the castle. A raised platform lay inside, and lying in repose atop it was his father. Ianto took a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips to steady himself as he looked inside to where his father slept.
“He spoke of you once, before he succumbed to the sleep of ages,” Morgana said looking through the glass at her brother. “He mentioned that he and Emrys had come to see you before the battle of Camlann, and he was so proud to see his son grown and strong.” Ianto didn't respond, remembering that all too brief meeting the year before.
“Can I speak to him?” He asked, wanting nothing more than to see his father again. Morgana regarded him for a moment, as if looking for something before she slowly nodded her head.
“He will only wake for those who have great need,” she told him, taking his hands in her own. “He has only woken twice as long as he has been here. Once for me when I sought to find where Vivienne had hidden Emrys, and once for a lost traveler from across the stars seeking absolution.” Ianto’s brow furrowed at that, wanting to know who had come to his father for aid, but Morgana shook her head before he could ask. “It is not my story to tell,” she said, her eyes dancing with secrets, but one day, you will know of whom I speak.”
Ianto waited for her to say more, but when she did not, he glanced back to where his father lay waiting. “What do I need to do?” he asked, releasing her hands.
Morgana closed her eyes and when she opened them, they flashed silver and a small door slid open in the side of the dome, allowing him entrance. “When you want to leave, place your hand on the center crystal,” she said, pointing to the one she meant. “And Ifan, remember, he has been sleeping a very long time. It may take him a moment to remember where he is.” She kissed his forehead and gestured for him to enter. Ianto hesitated on the threshold, gathering his courage. Straightening his jumper and squaring his shoulders, he stepped through.
The dome was filled with midsummer light, butterflies flitted through the air, and the grass floor was covered in wildflowers. A great spear and a shield with the rampant lion and a red dragon upon it were propped up against a throne, and a set of chain mail stood waiting on a stand to the right of the bed, with a table bearing a crown and a small chest just beyond. Ianto cautiously made his way forward, kneeling alongside the great king, and took one of his hands in his own.
“Father,” he said, trying not to let his voice crack. “It’s Ifan Pendragon, your son.” He looked down at the face he had seen in his dreams so many times; taking in the streaks of silver marring the close clipped beard of reddish-gold. As he watched, the long blonde lashes fluttered open, and the same blue eyes he stared at every morning in the mirror looked back at him.
“Ifan?” Arthur asked, blinking himself back into consciousness. “How are you here?” Propping himself up on one elbow, he threw aside the blanket covering his legs and sat up, patting the place beside him for Ianto to join him. “You haven’t aged much since the last time I saw you,” he observed, reaching up to cup his son’s cheek. “I have to say though, losing the neckerchief was definitely a good idea.”
Ianto laughed through the tears that threatened to slip from his eyes and Arthur joined him, his own laugh deep and rich like Jack’s.
“Merlin mentioned you had a good laugh,” he said, glancing at his father out of the corner of his eye.
“Well when he wasn’t blathering on about some new concept that I could barely keep up with, Merlin had a wicked sense of humor that made me laugh quite a lot actually,” Arthur replied with a grin. “I take it you have seen him again then.”
“Just the once,” Ianto replied, looking wistful. “Kilgharrah pulled me through so that he could help me with an incantation to stop Morgause.”
Arthur looked blank for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed. “Is that crazy sorceress still around? I would have thought that without Morgana at her side, she would have died long ago.”
“I wish it were true,” Ianto answered, and proceeded to explain what Morgause was up to.
“So she seeks to take Albion for her own,” Arthur said when he had finished. “She never knew of your existence, so you will at least have that as an advantage.” He stood up and began pacing as he thought through a plan. “And Excalibur, has it been recovered?”
“The descendants of your knights have kept it safely hidden in the lake,” Ianto answered, as he stood up. “In fact their leader, the progeny of Bedwyr, accompanied me here. They have stood watch over Excalibur and the Pendragons for centuries. It’s his wife that Morgause has taken for her vessel, and I won’t let him down.” Arthur smiled as his son spoke with the voice of a commander. He had been unsure when he had seen him before if he had enough spirit to make a proper king, even if it was in name only. Looking at him now, he saw the perfect melding of Merlin’s cunning and his own bravery. If the descendants of the round table were at his side, he was certain that he would not fail. Walking to the table at the far side of the dome, he came to a decision. It was time to give his only son the title that was his by birth.
“I had this fashioned after we visited you,” he said, opening the chest that lay atop the table and pulling forth a golden circlet-style crown covered in Celtic knots and bearing six rubies, one at each place where the knots joined. Not sure what to do, or if he was even worthy of the honor, Ianto knelt in before him. “In order to claim Excalibur and defeat Morgause, you will need to embrace the role that is your birthright.” Ianto kept his eyes on the primrose at his feet, trembling as he felt the magic inside the dome build.
“I Arthur, King of the Britons, do hereby name you my sole heir and successor to the throne of Albion. Unless the time comes when I must leave this place and fight at your side, I name you, King of Albion and protector of the realm.” Arthur placed the crown on his son’s head, and felt the magic of the Old Religion that pulsed through him at his own coronation, claim him again and bathe them both in acknowledgment of Ifan’s right to the title of king. “Rise son,” Arthur said his voice full of pride. Ianto stood on shaky legs, and found himself pulled into his father’s warm embrace.
“But, what-“ he started to ask, unsure where to begin.
Arthur laughed and held him out at arm’s length. “Always asking questions,” he said shaking his head. “You definitely get that from Merlin.” He patted his cheek and stepped away to collect something off the table. “This is the scabbard of Excalibur,” he explained, handing it to him. “Morgana retrieved it and brought it here long ago, it will keep you safe.” Ianto nodded dumbly, watching as the scabbard to the mythical sword he had dreamt about since childhood was placed in his hands. Arthur saw his stunned expression, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve faced Morgause before and she is a powerful swordswoman,” Arthur said, making sure that he understood. “Even with Excalibur, and the training that Merlin mentioned this Methos person was to have given you, always keep the scabbard with you, it could mean the difference between life and death.” Ianto nodded, securing it to his belt.
“But what about the crown?” he suddenly asked, wondering where he was going to hide it.
“You’ll love this,” Arthur said with a grin. “It was Merlin’s idea, came about after a long night of…” Arthur’s face flushed red, and Ianto bit back a laugh as he knew exactly what sort of thing caused him to have the same reaction. “Well let’s just say, he had a good idea.” He quickly finished. Arthur removed the crown from his head and placed it in Ianto’s hands.
“Lufu,” he whispered, and the crown shrunk until it was small enough to wear as a ring. Taking it from his palm, Arthur slipped it onto the middle finger of Ianto's left hand. Ianto held it aloft, watching the rubies twinkle in the sunlight.
“He’s a clever one my Merlin,” Arthur grinned. Ianto smiled back at him. If using the old English word for love as the incantation to resize the crown was any indication, their relationship was a lot more involved than the one mentioned in the storybooks. “I’ve given you all that I can to help you son,” Arthur said, stifling back a yawn. “My time grows short. Can your knight lead you to where Sir Bedwyr hid the sword?” Ianto nodded, following him as he made his way back to the platform and sat down.
Arthur’s eyes grew heavy and Ianto plumped the pillow for him as he lay back down. “Thank God for that,” Arthur said, wiggling his way back into the bedding. “There was a lump in there somewhere and it wouldn’t do for me to wake the next time with a crick in my neck,” he said, yawning his way through a smile. As Ianto watched him get situated, he suddenly felt the need to cling onto him for as long as he could. Kneeling beside him once more, he gathered his hand in his own.
“Thank you,” he said, fighting back tears. Arthur turned his head towards him smiled with a heavy lidded gaze. Reaching out to stroke his cheek and ruffle his son's hair, Arthur gave him one last smile before closing his eyes with a sigh.
“I love you son,” he whispered, before the sleep of ages took hold once more.
“And I you father,” Ianto whispered back, releasing his hand and leaning forward to kiss Arthur’s brow. He watched him a moment longer before standing up and touching the center crystal. With one last glance back at Arthur's sleeping form, he wiped the tear that had escaped from his cheek and left the dome to find Morgana and the others with a renewed sense of purpose.
His father had trusted him to carry on the Pendragon name and keep Albion safe.
He would not fail.
Rating: PG-13?
Pairings/Characters: Merlin/Arthur, Methos/Duncan, Ianto/Jack, Gwen Cooper, Cassandra, Kilgharrah, Others
Notes: My Slightly Cracky Fic Dedicated to the fabulous teachwriteslash
Crossover: with Merlin/Torchwood/Highlander - Includes Merlin through S3 Ep2
Summary: Sequel to Portals of Time. Ianto Jones, also known as Ifan Pendragon has a series of nightmares surrounding an army of ghosts. To stop Morgause and her ghost army, he'll need the help of his immortal friends, an enigmatic dragon, and the magic of his ancestors.
Disclaimer: BBC and Davis-Panzer drew them. I just like to color outside of their lines.
A/N: Sir Bedwyr (also know as Sir Bedivere) is considered by most Arthurian scholars to be Arthur's most trusted knight and the one whom he begged to return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake after he was wounded at the Battle of Camlann.
Quick bird reference: A red kite is a type of raptor found in Wales. Kay and Galahad are mentioned but aren't identified in this chapter. They will be in the final part.
Unbetaed, and chapter three is in three parts as the rewrite got away from me. Final part Wednesday.
A/N2: LJ was being fussy so I broke this into two parts.
Chapter 3b-2
~~~~~~~~
Glastonbury Abbey
Somerset, England
Saturday, October 30th
Morgause had spent the last two days scouring the countryside surrounding the Abbey. She had found two would be interlopers watching her the evening before, and had turned the tall blonde one into a red kite, and the dark one into a fox, amusing herself as the two of them attempted to fight their animal natures, wondering if one of them would attempt to kill the other before she let them go.
It was nearing dusk again and she had little to show for her efforts. She sat down to think, and saw a groundskeeper making his way to the bell tower at the top of the tor, muttering about the ‘holy thorn’ under his breath. Curious, she followed him up the path, watching him secure the site, before making his way back down and checking over the supposed grave of Arthur and Guinevere below. He made his way through the abbey courtyard and stopped to pat a mound of earth near the far wall and she hid behind a pillar as he said a small prayer before leaving the site to close it for the day. Morgause waited until he left, and crouched down, placing a finding stone on the ground and said the incantation she had reciting many times over the past couple of days, grinning in satisfaction as it began to grow. Running her hands over the earth, she caused the ground to fall back, exposing a long wooden box. She lifted the lid and saw the remains of a withered tree trunk inside. Stroking the trunk with her fingers, she felt the power inside of it, and with a flick of her wrist, the trunk cracked in two, exposing the white shaft of the staff hidden within.
“At last,” she whispered, freeing it from its prison and drawing it into the late afternoon sun. It was more ornately carved then the version she had held before. This staff was covered in runes and wrapped in swirls of silver, the branches at the top twisting into a dome, with a small opening to slip the power stone inside to activate it’s power. Morgause laughed as she pulled a pouch from her pocket, and unwrapped the onyx crystal within to place it inside the globe. The globe immediately filled with a blue-black ball of light, illuminating the ruins with an unearthly glow.
“Now, to claim Albion and remind all of the Britons what it means to be a true kingdom of magic!” she shouted. A dark mist swirled around her and she was gone. The forgotten fox and the kite exchanged a look, and with an collective sigh, began the long trek back down the hill towards home.
~~~~~~~~
Torchwood Three
Later that night
Jack was pacing on the catwalk above the pit of the Hub, checking over the various monitors and trying to anticipate where Morgause would strike. Most of his team was out in the field on routine retrievals, and Andy and Mickey had gone to Glastonbury the day before and not reported in since. He’d called UNIT and asked Martha to send a squad to find them, and could only hope that they were alright. Ianto, Duncan, and Rhys were on some crazy mission to a mystical island in the middle of nowhere, and he was stuck with two snarky immortals who bickered like ten year olds. As they started arguing once again, this time over whether or not Methos truly had invented beer, Jack slammed his hands down on the nearest desk.
“Would you two please shut up!” he yelled. The other two immortals jumped and turned to stare at him.
“Problem Captain?” Methos asked innocently. Jack swore in upper galactic.
“No! I enjoy listening to the two of you hash out passive aggressive bullshit for hours on end while the love of my life is off in the middle of nowhere conversing with ancient magic,” he ranted.
“I know you’re worried,” Cassandra said, rising to put her hand on his arm, “but Ifan is strong and can protect himself, you need to trust him to come back to you.” Jack placed his hand over hers and nodded, attempting to push down the fear that always crept in whenever he felt Ianto might be in danger.
“He almost died last year,” he said quietly, not meeting the other immortals' eyes. “You know what it’s like with mortals, they always seem to flash through your life like a comet; burning so bright, but if you blink they’re gone.” He looked up to where Methos stood watching him. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“You won’t,” Cassandra replied with a soft smile. “He has a great destiny before him, and this battle will only be the beginning. I’ve seen it.” She stared into the distance with a faraway look in her eyes and Jack straightened up with a sigh, putting one hand in his pocket and flicking through the images on the CCTV with the other.
“But how can you be sure?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Even magic isn't foolproof.” Cassandra glanced to Methos and he nodded, seeming to know what she was going to say.
“In all my 3,000 years, I have very rarely been wrong Jack,” she soothed. “And when I have, it has been for a very good reason. I have not seen Ifan’s death, but I have seen yours. Take comfort in the fact that when it comes, you will not be alone.” Jack stilled and turned to stare at her, resisting the urge to ask her more.
“I won’t tell you when,” she answered his questioning look with a smile. “But it will be far away from here on the other side of the galaxy, a long time from now.” Jack closed his eyes, letting the knowledge that even if it would be centuries away, at least someday there would be an end to his long existence. The sound of a rift alert broke him out of his melancholy and he began scanning the readings, looking for what had come through.
~~~~~~~~
Avalon, Isle of the Blessed
Somewhere in time
Morgana brought Ianto to a crystalline dome in the center of the great woods surrounding the castle. A raised platform lay inside, and lying in repose atop it was his father. Ianto took a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips to steady himself as he looked inside to where his father slept.
“He spoke of you once, before he succumbed to the sleep of ages,” Morgana said looking through the glass at her brother. “He mentioned that he and Emrys had come to see you before the battle of Camlann, and he was so proud to see his son grown and strong.” Ianto didn't respond, remembering that all too brief meeting the year before.
“Can I speak to him?” He asked, wanting nothing more than to see his father again. Morgana regarded him for a moment, as if looking for something before she slowly nodded her head.
“He will only wake for those who have great need,” she told him, taking his hands in her own. “He has only woken twice as long as he has been here. Once for me when I sought to find where Vivienne had hidden Emrys, and once for a lost traveler from across the stars seeking absolution.” Ianto’s brow furrowed at that, wanting to know who had come to his father for aid, but Morgana shook her head before he could ask. “It is not my story to tell,” she said, her eyes dancing with secrets, but one day, you will know of whom I speak.”
Ianto waited for her to say more, but when she did not, he glanced back to where his father lay waiting. “What do I need to do?” he asked, releasing her hands.
Morgana closed her eyes and when she opened them, they flashed silver and a small door slid open in the side of the dome, allowing him entrance. “When you want to leave, place your hand on the center crystal,” she said, pointing to the one she meant. “And Ifan, remember, he has been sleeping a very long time. It may take him a moment to remember where he is.” She kissed his forehead and gestured for him to enter. Ianto hesitated on the threshold, gathering his courage. Straightening his jumper and squaring his shoulders, he stepped through.
The dome was filled with midsummer light, butterflies flitted through the air, and the grass floor was covered in wildflowers. A great spear and a shield with the rampant lion and a red dragon upon it were propped up against a throne, and a set of chain mail stood waiting on a stand to the right of the bed, with a table bearing a crown and a small chest just beyond. Ianto cautiously made his way forward, kneeling alongside the great king, and took one of his hands in his own.
“Father,” he said, trying not to let his voice crack. “It’s Ifan Pendragon, your son.” He looked down at the face he had seen in his dreams so many times; taking in the streaks of silver marring the close clipped beard of reddish-gold. As he watched, the long blonde lashes fluttered open, and the same blue eyes he stared at every morning in the mirror looked back at him.
“Ifan?” Arthur asked, blinking himself back into consciousness. “How are you here?” Propping himself up on one elbow, he threw aside the blanket covering his legs and sat up, patting the place beside him for Ianto to join him. “You haven’t aged much since the last time I saw you,” he observed, reaching up to cup his son’s cheek. “I have to say though, losing the neckerchief was definitely a good idea.”
Ianto laughed through the tears that threatened to slip from his eyes and Arthur joined him, his own laugh deep and rich like Jack’s.
“Merlin mentioned you had a good laugh,” he said, glancing at his father out of the corner of his eye.
“Well when he wasn’t blathering on about some new concept that I could barely keep up with, Merlin had a wicked sense of humor that made me laugh quite a lot actually,” Arthur replied with a grin. “I take it you have seen him again then.”
“Just the once,” Ianto replied, looking wistful. “Kilgharrah pulled me through so that he could help me with an incantation to stop Morgause.”
Arthur looked blank for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed. “Is that crazy sorceress still around? I would have thought that without Morgana at her side, she would have died long ago.”
“I wish it were true,” Ianto answered, and proceeded to explain what Morgause was up to.
“So she seeks to take Albion for her own,” Arthur said when he had finished. “She never knew of your existence, so you will at least have that as an advantage.” He stood up and began pacing as he thought through a plan. “And Excalibur, has it been recovered?”
“The descendants of your knights have kept it safely hidden in the lake,” Ianto answered, as he stood up. “In fact their leader, the progeny of Bedwyr, accompanied me here. They have stood watch over Excalibur and the Pendragons for centuries. It’s his wife that Morgause has taken for her vessel, and I won’t let him down.” Arthur smiled as his son spoke with the voice of a commander. He had been unsure when he had seen him before if he had enough spirit to make a proper king, even if it was in name only. Looking at him now, he saw the perfect melding of Merlin’s cunning and his own bravery. If the descendants of the round table were at his side, he was certain that he would not fail. Walking to the table at the far side of the dome, he came to a decision. It was time to give his only son the title that was his by birth.
“I had this fashioned after we visited you,” he said, opening the chest that lay atop the table and pulling forth a golden circlet-style crown covered in Celtic knots and bearing six rubies, one at each place where the knots joined. Not sure what to do, or if he was even worthy of the honor, Ianto knelt in before him. “In order to claim Excalibur and defeat Morgause, you will need to embrace the role that is your birthright.” Ianto kept his eyes on the primrose at his feet, trembling as he felt the magic inside the dome build.
“I Arthur, King of the Britons, do hereby name you my sole heir and successor to the throne of Albion. Unless the time comes when I must leave this place and fight at your side, I name you, King of Albion and protector of the realm.” Arthur placed the crown on his son’s head, and felt the magic of the Old Religion that pulsed through him at his own coronation, claim him again and bathe them both in acknowledgment of Ifan’s right to the title of king. “Rise son,” Arthur said his voice full of pride. Ianto stood on shaky legs, and found himself pulled into his father’s warm embrace.
“But, what-“ he started to ask, unsure where to begin.
Arthur laughed and held him out at arm’s length. “Always asking questions,” he said shaking his head. “You definitely get that from Merlin.” He patted his cheek and stepped away to collect something off the table. “This is the scabbard of Excalibur,” he explained, handing it to him. “Morgana retrieved it and brought it here long ago, it will keep you safe.” Ianto nodded dumbly, watching as the scabbard to the mythical sword he had dreamt about since childhood was placed in his hands. Arthur saw his stunned expression, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve faced Morgause before and she is a powerful swordswoman,” Arthur said, making sure that he understood. “Even with Excalibur, and the training that Merlin mentioned this Methos person was to have given you, always keep the scabbard with you, it could mean the difference between life and death.” Ianto nodded, securing it to his belt.
“But what about the crown?” he suddenly asked, wondering where he was going to hide it.
“You’ll love this,” Arthur said with a grin. “It was Merlin’s idea, came about after a long night of…” Arthur’s face flushed red, and Ianto bit back a laugh as he knew exactly what sort of thing caused him to have the same reaction. “Well let’s just say, he had a good idea.” He quickly finished. Arthur removed the crown from his head and placed it in Ianto’s hands.
“Lufu,” he whispered, and the crown shrunk until it was small enough to wear as a ring. Taking it from his palm, Arthur slipped it onto the middle finger of Ianto's left hand. Ianto held it aloft, watching the rubies twinkle in the sunlight.
“He’s a clever one my Merlin,” Arthur grinned. Ianto smiled back at him. If using the old English word for love as the incantation to resize the crown was any indication, their relationship was a lot more involved than the one mentioned in the storybooks. “I’ve given you all that I can to help you son,” Arthur said, stifling back a yawn. “My time grows short. Can your knight lead you to where Sir Bedwyr hid the sword?” Ianto nodded, following him as he made his way back to the platform and sat down.
Arthur’s eyes grew heavy and Ianto plumped the pillow for him as he lay back down. “Thank God for that,” Arthur said, wiggling his way back into the bedding. “There was a lump in there somewhere and it wouldn’t do for me to wake the next time with a crick in my neck,” he said, yawning his way through a smile. As Ianto watched him get situated, he suddenly felt the need to cling onto him for as long as he could. Kneeling beside him once more, he gathered his hand in his own.
“Thank you,” he said, fighting back tears. Arthur turned his head towards him smiled with a heavy lidded gaze. Reaching out to stroke his cheek and ruffle his son's hair, Arthur gave him one last smile before closing his eyes with a sigh.
“I love you son,” he whispered, before the sleep of ages took hold once more.
“And I you father,” Ianto whispered back, releasing his hand and leaning forward to kiss Arthur’s brow. He watched him a moment longer before standing up and touching the center crystal. With one last glance back at Arthur's sleeping form, he wiped the tear that had escaped from his cheek and left the dome to find Morgana and the others with a renewed sense of purpose.
His father had trusted him to carry on the Pendragon name and keep Albion safe.
He would not fail.