fic: Nemo Vir Est Qui Mundum Non Reddat Meliorem 2/2
Title: Nemo Vir Est Qui Mundum Non Reddat Meliorem
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Content of asexual nature. Violence. Mentions of abortion. Girl!Merlin (after a fashion)
Spoilers: Spoilers for Kingdom of Heaven (sort of) and for Merlin: Season 1
Notes: Written for the reel_merlin movie prompt Kingdom of Heaven . Many thanks to my anonymous non-lj friend who poured over this for many hours looking for my spelling mistakes and plot errors.
Summary: In Jerusalem, you are not what you are born but what you have it in yourself to be. A kingdom of conscience, of peace instead of war, love instead of hate. That is what lies at the end of a crusade. A kingdom of heaven.
Five hundred years after the boat bore Arthur to Avalon, Merlin believes he has found Arthur again in the Holy Land. But history never occurs the same way twice, and there is no such thing as happily ever after…
Nemo vir est qui mundum non reddat meliorem
Part 1
الجنة مملكة
Raynald was forced by Sybilla to pay the ransom demanded for every knight. To Merlin’s relief, Balian’s name was amongst them. He offered his services to the castle’s physician who, after a great discourse on the dangers of educating women, dispatched Merlin with a cloth and a bowl of herb-infused water to Balian’s chambers.
He found the knight attempting to tend his own wound, still partly dressed in his armour and without the use of one hand. Tutting, Merlin quickly stripped him of mail, tunic, and shirt; pushing the man to the bed with little ceremony. Arthur made no fuss, simply wincing when Merlin probed the wound for grit and the beginnings of infection.
Satisfied that the cut was showing no signs of putrification, Merlin pressed the cloth lightly to the wound. The pungent sting of cleansing oils scorched his nostrils, but Merlin ignored the sensation. “He could have killed you - that Saracen lord. I thought he would. What happened?”
Arthur did not question how Merlin knew what had happened on the battlefield. He simply laid against his pallet and panted against the pain. “I knew him, at Damascus. When the King defeated Salahadin. I let him live. And so he did the same. We are equal in God’s eyes.”
Merlin released a shuddering breath. It had been too close, this time. Next time, Arthur might not be so lucky.
“I love you.” Merlin said abruptly. Arthur stared at him in surprise, blinking when Merlin pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. “I love you. Do you love me, too?”
Arthur tensed beside him and Merlin almost regretted asking. Arthur never had been comfortable discussing his feelings.
Eventually he relaxed, gifting Merlin with a smile that was only a little strained around the edges. “Yes, Merle, I love you.” Merlin smiled and leaned up to kiss Arthur’s cheek.
“Good. I love you too.” It bore repeating.
“I know.”
Merlin ignored the subtle edge to his lovers tone. It seemed this Arthur was even worse at discussing emotions than the original had been.
الجنة مملكة
That night, Merlin dreamed of Camelot.
الجنة مملكة
The sheets were raw and damp with sweat. Arthur’s hair was plastered to his heat. Sweat dripped from his nose to land on Merlin’s chin. He laughed, surprised and amused, Arthur cussing at him without heat and smiling all the while. Their fingers were laced together on the bed, pressed into the matting as they moved in a sloppy, sliding glide. Merlin’s hips were greasy with oil and it was smeared it glistening streaks across the back of Arthur’s thighs and between his cheeks.
Arthur thrust, and Merlin groaned. It was almost too much - they had been at this too long. But it was glorious pain, a friction that would never be enough. Arthur kissed him, then. And there were too many teeth and their breath was sour to taste but it was perfect and Merlin never wanted it to end.
Their rhythm increased, and Arthur pressed his mouth to Merlin’s neck. Whispered words of love and commitment and forever melting into sweat-soaked skin.
“My King.” Merlin murmured. “My Once and Future King.”
الجنة مملكة
It was so easy, back in Jerusalem, to fall into the habits of old. Days blurred into nights and Merlin’s world shrunk to ‘Arthur’. Outside the chamber walls court factions raged. The kingdom was splitting in two as Baldwin lay dying. Arthur was at the king’s side more than he was in his chambers and Merlin was left to linger, charms flicking from his fingers as the room was cleaned, aired and tidied.
He was careful - if only to give Arthur the room to deny - never to let him see the magic Merlin performed. He thought, perhaps, Arthur knew. There were moment, rare occasions, when Arthur would turn his head, sharply, and peer at Merlin as though trying to figure out what hid beneath guileless eyes and a servant’s garb.
It was a risk - to dare to practice magic in the heart of Christendom. But each night, as Merlin lay in the circle of Arthur’s arms, he felt as though he could stand atop the central church and summon the greatest storm Jerusalem had ever seen and Arthur would raise his shield to protect them both from the Bishop’s wrath.
He whispered as much, once, when Arthur was drifting into sleep. The man’s only reaction was to tighten his grip, looping his arm beneath Merlin’s breasts - a sensation which still through him from time to time - and pressing his nose into Merlin’s hair. Merlin sighed, content. He was home again.
الجنة مملكة
Baldwin died on the sixteenth day of March, in the year of our lord 1185. Sybilla’s young son was crowned three days later. The princess was his regent.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin found Arthur at his window. On the desk behind him lay the papers bequeathed to him by Baldwin. Picking one up, Merlin scanned its contents: a writ of arrest and execution for Guy de Lusignan. Merlin felt light headed. He scrabbled for the other documents. Marriage bans for Sybilla and Balian - the implicit acknowledgement that if the Baron of Ibelin wished it so, he would be king in Jerusalem should anything happen to the boy.
Merlin replaced the velum on the table with a hand that shook.
“Will you marry her?” he asked.
It was no secret that Baldwin had hated Guy. He had set the board so that Arthur need only move and he could claim queen and checkmate king all in one move. But would Sybilla consent to be passed from man to man as though she were a pawn?
“You are very impertinent for a servant Muirgheal.”
Merlin said nothing.
“I will try. Sybilla is already moving to remove Tripoli as Marshall of Jerusalem. If she succeeds then the warrant will never be enacted. I must move quickly. Whilst Raymond is still in position to aid me.”
Merlin stifled a sob, shoulders quaking. It was happening again. To ensure the stability of a kingdom Arthur was throwing away what he really wanted. First with Gwen, because the people needed a queen. Now, with Sybilla - because Jerusalem needed a king who would keep the Peace. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t fate give them a chance? It wasn’t fair.
Arthur turned. “Why are you crying? It is no great hardship - to marry a woman of Sybilla’s age and standing.”
Merlin was finding it hard to breath. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You want to marry her?”
“Of course. I have no wife of my own and a marriage to her will bring me wealth and prestige. I am just a younger son - and I have the chance to be a king.”
Merlin gulped, great lungfuls of air that felt too humid and too hot. “I had thought - this time - I thought you might, might marry m-”
Arthur laughed - cutting and cruel. “Marry you? Marry you? You’re a chambermaid, not a lady. Why, in the name of all that is holy would I marry you?”
“You,” Merlin had to stop to keep his voice from breaking. “You said you loved me.”
Balian sneered and an icy hand clawed at Merlin’s gut. “I would have said anything to keep you warming my bed, Merle. Though I don’t know if I needed to have tried quite so hard - you really were very agreeable.” He reached out to snag a hand around Merlin’s waist, but Merlin slapped the questing appendage away. The Baron sighed.
“Very well. Have your snit. But don’t let this nonsense go to your head. I expect you in my chambers two days hence.” He left, and Merlin hunched down on the floor, crying. He had lived many lives as a servant - but he had never before felt more like a slave.
الجنة مملكة
Balian approached Sybilla. Sybilla would not have him. Raymond de Tripoli was stripped of his title and banished to his castle in Galilee for disrupting the court. It was a blow to Balian’s power. Raymond had been his main supporter and without him, Balian was left to face the vengeance of Guy alone. Balian scrambled for power, and found it in the widow of King Almeric I.
They were married in a regal ceremony. Balian now shared his bed with Maria Komnene and Merlin had no place in it.
الجنة مملكة
They were serving date wine at the meal that night. Merlin caught sight of Balian over the jug he was carrying and promptly spilt the contents all over the floor. The smell was pungent, thick and sweet. The Baron was laughing at something his wife had said. Merlin felt violently sick.
Arnaude found him retching his guts into the privy. Hushing softly, she lifted his hair out of his face and rubbed his back soothingly.
“It was the date wine, wasn’t it?” She asked, helping Merlin to stand. “It had the same affect on Bernadette.” Merlin looked at Arnaude blearily.
“I didn’t know Bernadette was ill.”
Arnaude chuckled, but not as though anything was funny. “She was not. She was with child.”
Merlin paled and felt his knees shake. Arnaude wrapped an arm around his waist.
“When did you last bleed?” She asked quietly, casting a cautious glance over her shoulder as she spoke.
Merlin’s mind was racing. “I haven’t - I don’t -” The truth was he had not even noticed that the monthly cycle that accompanied a woman’s body had stopped. He was unused to keeping track of such things. Arnaude seemed to take sympathy on him and with slow steps led him back to his pallet in the servants’ quarters.
“Get some rest.” She instructed. “I will make your excuses.” Merlin nodded dumbly and lay back staring at the ceiling.
He was female. Pregnant, with Arthur’s - Balian’s - child. He was sure Fate was laughing at him. He lay for hours on his pallet, wondering what he would do. The Baron had made his feelings very clear that afternoon in his chambers - he would never welcome a bastard child. Struggling, ignoring the way his eyes blurred with tears, Merlin laid a trembling hand upon his abdomen. His gaze flashed gold. He screamed as blood and thicker things poured hot and wet between his thighs - soaking his skirts and the sheets below. Dimly, he heard someone else’s scream mirror his own and then all went dark.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin opened his eyes to the solemn gaze of the lady’s personal physician. Beetle-black eyes, in a weathered face, scrutinised him for a moment before the man nodded and left. Merlin felt his heart clench at the memory of Gaius whose pale and wrinkled face still offered advice in his dreams sometimes.
A stool scraped and Arnaude entered his field of vision.
“Oh, Merle.” She sighed. Merlin felt tears well in his eyes. “Every night. You lay with Balian every night - did no one ever tell you this could happen?”
Mutely, Merlin shook his head. There was no way he could explain that he simply hadn’t thought it would happen to him - had forgotten that the rules were different in female form. Arnaude took his hand between both her own and kissed it.
“Perhaps it is for the best.”
“Yes.” Merlin agreed his throat tight with pain and tears. “This is best.”
الجنة مملكة
He was scrubbing the floor of Sybilla’s private chapel when Balian found him.
“I heard you lost the child.”
Merlin froze. He did not want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever. He said nothing, returning his attention instead to the brush in his hand and the pale of water by his side.
Balian knelt. And suddenly, he was back to being Arthur. It was Arthur’s eyes, not Balian’s that glared at him from beneath gray-laced brows. It was Arthur’s face that looked so very disappointed. His golden king, whose wife had cried herself to sleep when she could not bear a child; who had come to Merlin begging - pleading - for aid and whom Merlin had been forced to refuse, because he knew what price would be paid.
“I will not insult you by asking if the child was mine.” Arthur said.
Merlin did not reply.
“I trust the babe was lost by natural means.” Arthur continued, “That you played no part in its death?” Merlin’s silence was answer enough. Within moments he found himself hauled upright and spun around - Arthur’s fierce and angry gaze fixed upon his face.
“How could you murder my child?” He demanded, and Merlin instinctively attempted to recoil from Arthur’s rage.
“I did not think you’d want a bastard.” Merlin ground out; writhing and twisting in an attempt to get away. He did not want to admit that he now constantly harboured a hollow, twisting ache; that he felt bereft and empty. After all, he had no one but himself to blame.
Arthur let him ago abruptly, and Merlin dropped to the floor, legs unable to support him.
“I may not have acknowledged the child.” Arthur acknowledged, “But I would not have denied it a chance at life.”
Merlin struggled upright, feeling angry and betrayed and violated. He wanted to swear at Arthur, to curse him before all the ancient gods and this one. He wanted to scream that this was Arthur’s fault - that if he hadn’t been so selfish things would have been different. Different than they had once been.
But there was no recognition in Balian’s gaze. He could not understand Merlin ire and in that moment Merlin wondered whether there was anything of his beloved Prince in Balian. Arthur never would have let a serving maid throw her life away pining for him; would never have risked getting her with child. Looking at the Baron of Ibelin, Merlin tried to convince himself that there was nothing of Arthur in this man’s face - that he had fooled himself. But he knew, knew that this was what Arthur would have looked like, had he lived. The greying hair, the creases by his eyes, the sagging skin just beneath his jaw -this was Arthur’s face. Merlin could not make sense of it.
Balian left him there. Damp brush dripping dirty water to the floor, motes of dust spiralling in the humid air.
الجنة مملكة
Sybilla’s son was dead before the Feast of Corpus Christi. Balian tried to place his wife’s child as queen but Sybilla succeeded her son. And named Guy her King.
Jerusalem was at war with Salahadin within the week.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin braced himself against the wall as the siege towers pounded the outer wall. Guy’s army - the army he had sent across miles of waterless desert - lay dead in the sand. Guy himself was captured and the Steward was still trying to gather funds to pay the ransom. Sybilla had fled, racing across the land to Tripoli and Balian had sent his wife and step-daughter with them. Those with the means had made for the sea, buying passage on whatever merchant ship would have them. It was like watching rats pour from the hull of a scuppered ship. But still, so many remained.
The catacombs had become a refuge. Women and children huddled in the stinking dark - too full of the scent of blood and death and unwashed wounds. Merlin hurried from sick bed to sick bed, helping the physicians tend what wounds he could and giving ease to the dying. Brothers in black habits moved amongst the beds, offering the last rites to whoever needed them.
A woman, hollow eyes and round bellied with child grabbed Merlin’s arm as he passed.
“Do you know - my husband, he was fighting on the eastern wall -”
Merlin shook his head and covered her hand with his own. She sagged and another woman, alike enough to be her sister, ducked to catch her. Merlin offered no apology - he had none left to give. Only seven of the men fighting on that front had survived.
A man wearing the colours of Ibelin nursed a broken arm. Merlin offered him what little medicine they could spare but he shook his head, motioning towards a young boy Merlin recognised as the Bishops manservant. The boy stared at Merlin - William, Merlin remembered, his name was William - eyes wide and wild in his too pale face.
“His lordship called us all to defend Jerusalem.” The boy whispered. He looked awed - as though to be communally addressed by the lord of Ibelin was as great an honour as being named a knight. “He called all men at arms, or capable of bearing them.”
Merlin wiped his brow, eyebrows furrowing when the boy showed no reaction as Merlin probed the head-wound he’d sustained. “How many are left within the city walls?” Merlin asked, gently running fingers around the edge of the gash. The boy did not even flinch.
“Enough that Salahadin we will be able to hold the walls. If we can last long enough to force the Saracen’s to offer terms and if the supplies we have hold, then we might yet survive.”
“You have a good head for battle.” Merlin said. The boy smiled, pleased to be offered a compliment from a pretty maid. Merlin wondered idly what he would say if he knew Merlin still though himself a man. “Rest now.” He instructed. “You need sleep.”
“But I want to fight. My lord said -”
“You will be no good to anyone, if you fall on your sword from fatigue.” Merlin countered. “Sleep.”
He stepped away, moving into the shadows before he quickly wiped his eyes. A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. Merlin turned, shaking his head when he saw Balian.
“How is he?”
Merlin sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, veil long since discarded. “He feels no pain from the wound. He was personal attendant to the Bishop he would have been in close contact with the king and with his nephew after.”
Balian closed his eyes. “He is a leper.”
Merlin nodded. “The disease has not yet begun to show. There is no telling when he was infected. But he cannot be kept near the other patients.”
Balian licked his lips. Brows drawn together in consideration. “Have him attend me in my chambers.”
“My lord -” Merlin began, but he was cut off.
“Have him attend me, Muirgheal.” The Baron’s eyes were sad. Merlin looked away.
“As you wish, my lord.”
الجنة مملكة
They burned the bodies at sundown in the courtyard of the church. The Bishop railed at the men who lit the torches but Arthur stood firm. Disease would spread if the bodies were not destroyed and they could not bury them outside the city walls. Merlin shivered in the shadows as flames ate at the deceased. Men, boys - some so young. The stars seemed to dim as the bodies turned to dust. Women screamed for their husbands and sons, the wails growing louder and louder until they echoed through the city streets. Shrieks echoed in Merlin’s mind. Flames leapt from reaching, white walls; the Pendragon standard caught in the smoke, the golden dragon rearing to break free.
A hospitaller recited prayers and all Merlin could see was Mordred standing there. The boy’s face was sharp and pinched with rage, arm raised as he bellowed curses. Morgana cackled on the walls and Gwen was screaming as they tore Lancelot’s dead body from her arms. The stench of burning flesh filled Merlin’s nose. He couldn’t breathe.
A barrage hit the walls and Merlin dropped to his knees. It was night - the battle should have ceased - but men were calling for aid and the foundations of the city shook. Arthur. Merlin had to find him - before Mordred’s forces breached the walls. He ran, ignoring the yells and blows of men who tried to force him back. Where was Arthur? He needed to be with his king. He made it to the watch tower - deserted now; it’s keeper having raced to help with the defence.
Merlin cast his gaze out across the land and for a moment nothing made sense. Where were the fields, the woods and village? Everything was a burnt and empty beach. It was gone - Albion had fallen. And then he remembered. This was no Camelot, this was Jerusalem. And Salahadin’s men had breached the outer wall.
Merlin could see them now. The place where the lesser gate had been filled centuries before was swarming with Saracen men. They were pouring up the walls and down the streets like rats, a dark wave that consumed everything in its path. And by the citadel was Arthur. He had rallied men at the entrance to the catacombs keeping the invading army from finding the women and children sheltered there. Bloodlust consumed these men. Merlin knew, that Salahadin was not the devil Christendom portrayed him as - were this not war his men were no doubt no different from those Merlin had lived amongst, for years. But war changed all people. Those who would never raise their sword to a child would now slaughter at will - enraged beyond all reason and fuelled by the lunacy of fanatics who heralded this bloodshed as the will of god.
Shuddering, Merlin raised his arms. The sun bled in his eyes as his power washed across the tide. The heavens opened. Clouds bloomed across the darkened sky, eclipsing all trace of natural light. The stars died, and the moon hid behind the rolls of thunder stampeding across the sky. Rain poured in sheets upon the armies. Cries of war were drowned beneath the torrent. Merlin had hoped that the rain would cool the battle; that Salahadin would call for a retreat but if anything the Saracen onslaught grew in strength and the Christian opposition joined it; both sides seeming to take the rain as a sign from God.
Desperate, Merlin began to chant. Mordred had once used such a spell, to sway and hold the minds of his army when their fervour began to fade. Merlin had sworn he would never resort to such a violation but he understood now how Mordred might have felt compelled. He could not let this violence continue. Light began to gather at his finger tips, spreading across the armies. Here and there, men laid down their arms but too quickly were simply killed by other men. It was no use. There was something here which rivalled even Merlin’s power. These men were beyond his control.
Exhausted, Merlin leant against the wall. Watching as the battle raged below. Perhaps his spell had some effect. Jerusalem’s men held their own until, eventually, Salahadin called for retreat.
The city was left, smoking and ruined - it’s outer wall destroyed, but the inner one still standing. The church still tall and proud but stained with ash and fire. Men cheered their victory, but it was a hollow sound.
A white flag was raised atop the Saracen army and Merlin watched, sick at heart as a Balian rode out to hear Salahadin’s terms. It would be simple enough: safe passage for every Christian soul within the walls and Jerusalem to be returned to Saracen control.
الجنة مملكة
The Exodus was swift. Women gathered what belongings they would save and joined their men - were they fortunate enough to have survived. Merlin joined a blacksmith and his family, helping care for the little ones as his wife road on a litter, behind. He would part company with them once they reached the sea; attempt to beg passage back to England. He was through with the lands in the East.
He saw the Baron of Ibelin once - when a group of knights rode by on their way to Galilee. The man paused as though he might say something, but in the end he continued on, flicking a silver coin in Merlin’s direction as he passed. Merlin gave the coin to the blacksmith’s family.
He never saw Balian again.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin looked at Fate as she sat peacefully by the lake - mural crown on her head and Fortune’s Wheel in her lap. He felt time-sore and worn. His reflection in the pool did not look like his own. He looked old.
In the water, the ghost of Arthur stood beside him, running a hand softly over Merlin’s hair, pressing his lips to the skin of Merlin’s temple.
“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Merlin accused. “You knew the pain this life would bring.”
Fate smiled and set the Wheel spinning again. “You should not have weighted the dice, Merlin. There is a punishment, as you are well aware, for those who attempt to cheat Fate.”
End.
Author: writteninhaste previously feathergirl89
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Content of asexual nature. Violence. Mentions of abortion. Girl!Merlin (after a fashion)
Spoilers: Spoilers for Kingdom of Heaven (sort of) and for Merlin: Season 1
Notes: Written for the reel_merlin movie prompt Kingdom of Heaven . Many thanks to my anonymous non-lj friend who poured over this for many hours looking for my spelling mistakes and plot errors.
Summary: In Jerusalem, you are not what you are born but what you have it in yourself to be. A kingdom of conscience, of peace instead of war, love instead of hate. That is what lies at the end of a crusade. A kingdom of heaven.
Five hundred years after the boat bore Arthur to Avalon, Merlin believes he has found Arthur again in the Holy Land. But history never occurs the same way twice, and there is no such thing as happily ever after…
Nemo vir est qui mundum non reddat meliorem
Part 1
الجنة مملكة
Raynald was forced by Sybilla to pay the ransom demanded for every knight. To Merlin’s relief, Balian’s name was amongst them. He offered his services to the castle’s physician who, after a great discourse on the dangers of educating women, dispatched Merlin with a cloth and a bowl of herb-infused water to Balian’s chambers.
He found the knight attempting to tend his own wound, still partly dressed in his armour and without the use of one hand. Tutting, Merlin quickly stripped him of mail, tunic, and shirt; pushing the man to the bed with little ceremony. Arthur made no fuss, simply wincing when Merlin probed the wound for grit and the beginnings of infection.
Satisfied that the cut was showing no signs of putrification, Merlin pressed the cloth lightly to the wound. The pungent sting of cleansing oils scorched his nostrils, but Merlin ignored the sensation. “He could have killed you - that Saracen lord. I thought he would. What happened?”
Arthur did not question how Merlin knew what had happened on the battlefield. He simply laid against his pallet and panted against the pain. “I knew him, at Damascus. When the King defeated Salahadin. I let him live. And so he did the same. We are equal in God’s eyes.”
Merlin released a shuddering breath. It had been too close, this time. Next time, Arthur might not be so lucky.
“I love you.” Merlin said abruptly. Arthur stared at him in surprise, blinking when Merlin pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. “I love you. Do you love me, too?”
Arthur tensed beside him and Merlin almost regretted asking. Arthur never had been comfortable discussing his feelings.
Eventually he relaxed, gifting Merlin with a smile that was only a little strained around the edges. “Yes, Merle, I love you.” Merlin smiled and leaned up to kiss Arthur’s cheek.
“Good. I love you too.” It bore repeating.
“I know.”
Merlin ignored the subtle edge to his lovers tone. It seemed this Arthur was even worse at discussing emotions than the original had been.
الجنة مملكة
That night, Merlin dreamed of Camelot.
الجنة مملكة
The sheets were raw and damp with sweat. Arthur’s hair was plastered to his heat. Sweat dripped from his nose to land on Merlin’s chin. He laughed, surprised and amused, Arthur cussing at him without heat and smiling all the while. Their fingers were laced together on the bed, pressed into the matting as they moved in a sloppy, sliding glide. Merlin’s hips were greasy with oil and it was smeared it glistening streaks across the back of Arthur’s thighs and between his cheeks.
Arthur thrust, and Merlin groaned. It was almost too much - they had been at this too long. But it was glorious pain, a friction that would never be enough. Arthur kissed him, then. And there were too many teeth and their breath was sour to taste but it was perfect and Merlin never wanted it to end.
Their rhythm increased, and Arthur pressed his mouth to Merlin’s neck. Whispered words of love and commitment and forever melting into sweat-soaked skin.
“My King.” Merlin murmured. “My Once and Future King.”
الجنة مملكة
It was so easy, back in Jerusalem, to fall into the habits of old. Days blurred into nights and Merlin’s world shrunk to ‘Arthur’. Outside the chamber walls court factions raged. The kingdom was splitting in two as Baldwin lay dying. Arthur was at the king’s side more than he was in his chambers and Merlin was left to linger, charms flicking from his fingers as the room was cleaned, aired and tidied.
He was careful - if only to give Arthur the room to deny - never to let him see the magic Merlin performed. He thought, perhaps, Arthur knew. There were moment, rare occasions, when Arthur would turn his head, sharply, and peer at Merlin as though trying to figure out what hid beneath guileless eyes and a servant’s garb.
It was a risk - to dare to practice magic in the heart of Christendom. But each night, as Merlin lay in the circle of Arthur’s arms, he felt as though he could stand atop the central church and summon the greatest storm Jerusalem had ever seen and Arthur would raise his shield to protect them both from the Bishop’s wrath.
He whispered as much, once, when Arthur was drifting into sleep. The man’s only reaction was to tighten his grip, looping his arm beneath Merlin’s breasts - a sensation which still through him from time to time - and pressing his nose into Merlin’s hair. Merlin sighed, content. He was home again.
الجنة مملكة
Baldwin died on the sixteenth day of March, in the year of our lord 1185. Sybilla’s young son was crowned three days later. The princess was his regent.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin found Arthur at his window. On the desk behind him lay the papers bequeathed to him by Baldwin. Picking one up, Merlin scanned its contents: a writ of arrest and execution for Guy de Lusignan. Merlin felt light headed. He scrabbled for the other documents. Marriage bans for Sybilla and Balian - the implicit acknowledgement that if the Baron of Ibelin wished it so, he would be king in Jerusalem should anything happen to the boy.
Merlin replaced the velum on the table with a hand that shook.
“Will you marry her?” he asked.
It was no secret that Baldwin had hated Guy. He had set the board so that Arthur need only move and he could claim queen and checkmate king all in one move. But would Sybilla consent to be passed from man to man as though she were a pawn?
“You are very impertinent for a servant Muirgheal.”
Merlin said nothing.
“I will try. Sybilla is already moving to remove Tripoli as Marshall of Jerusalem. If she succeeds then the warrant will never be enacted. I must move quickly. Whilst Raymond is still in position to aid me.”
Merlin stifled a sob, shoulders quaking. It was happening again. To ensure the stability of a kingdom Arthur was throwing away what he really wanted. First with Gwen, because the people needed a queen. Now, with Sybilla - because Jerusalem needed a king who would keep the Peace. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t fate give them a chance? It wasn’t fair.
Arthur turned. “Why are you crying? It is no great hardship - to marry a woman of Sybilla’s age and standing.”
Merlin was finding it hard to breath. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You want to marry her?”
“Of course. I have no wife of my own and a marriage to her will bring me wealth and prestige. I am just a younger son - and I have the chance to be a king.”
Merlin gulped, great lungfuls of air that felt too humid and too hot. “I had thought - this time - I thought you might, might marry m-”
Arthur laughed - cutting and cruel. “Marry you? Marry you? You’re a chambermaid, not a lady. Why, in the name of all that is holy would I marry you?”
“You,” Merlin had to stop to keep his voice from breaking. “You said you loved me.”
Balian sneered and an icy hand clawed at Merlin’s gut. “I would have said anything to keep you warming my bed, Merle. Though I don’t know if I needed to have tried quite so hard - you really were very agreeable.” He reached out to snag a hand around Merlin’s waist, but Merlin slapped the questing appendage away. The Baron sighed.
“Very well. Have your snit. But don’t let this nonsense go to your head. I expect you in my chambers two days hence.” He left, and Merlin hunched down on the floor, crying. He had lived many lives as a servant - but he had never before felt more like a slave.
الجنة مملكة
Balian approached Sybilla. Sybilla would not have him. Raymond de Tripoli was stripped of his title and banished to his castle in Galilee for disrupting the court. It was a blow to Balian’s power. Raymond had been his main supporter and without him, Balian was left to face the vengeance of Guy alone. Balian scrambled for power, and found it in the widow of King Almeric I.
They were married in a regal ceremony. Balian now shared his bed with Maria Komnene and Merlin had no place in it.
الجنة مملكة
They were serving date wine at the meal that night. Merlin caught sight of Balian over the jug he was carrying and promptly spilt the contents all over the floor. The smell was pungent, thick and sweet. The Baron was laughing at something his wife had said. Merlin felt violently sick.
Arnaude found him retching his guts into the privy. Hushing softly, she lifted his hair out of his face and rubbed his back soothingly.
“It was the date wine, wasn’t it?” She asked, helping Merlin to stand. “It had the same affect on Bernadette.” Merlin looked at Arnaude blearily.
“I didn’t know Bernadette was ill.”
Arnaude chuckled, but not as though anything was funny. “She was not. She was with child.”
Merlin paled and felt his knees shake. Arnaude wrapped an arm around his waist.
“When did you last bleed?” She asked quietly, casting a cautious glance over her shoulder as she spoke.
Merlin’s mind was racing. “I haven’t - I don’t -” The truth was he had not even noticed that the monthly cycle that accompanied a woman’s body had stopped. He was unused to keeping track of such things. Arnaude seemed to take sympathy on him and with slow steps led him back to his pallet in the servants’ quarters.
“Get some rest.” She instructed. “I will make your excuses.” Merlin nodded dumbly and lay back staring at the ceiling.
He was female. Pregnant, with Arthur’s - Balian’s - child. He was sure Fate was laughing at him. He lay for hours on his pallet, wondering what he would do. The Baron had made his feelings very clear that afternoon in his chambers - he would never welcome a bastard child. Struggling, ignoring the way his eyes blurred with tears, Merlin laid a trembling hand upon his abdomen. His gaze flashed gold. He screamed as blood and thicker things poured hot and wet between his thighs - soaking his skirts and the sheets below. Dimly, he heard someone else’s scream mirror his own and then all went dark.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin opened his eyes to the solemn gaze of the lady’s personal physician. Beetle-black eyes, in a weathered face, scrutinised him for a moment before the man nodded and left. Merlin felt his heart clench at the memory of Gaius whose pale and wrinkled face still offered advice in his dreams sometimes.
A stool scraped and Arnaude entered his field of vision.
“Oh, Merle.” She sighed. Merlin felt tears well in his eyes. “Every night. You lay with Balian every night - did no one ever tell you this could happen?”
Mutely, Merlin shook his head. There was no way he could explain that he simply hadn’t thought it would happen to him - had forgotten that the rules were different in female form. Arnaude took his hand between both her own and kissed it.
“Perhaps it is for the best.”
“Yes.” Merlin agreed his throat tight with pain and tears. “This is best.”
الجنة مملكة
He was scrubbing the floor of Sybilla’s private chapel when Balian found him.
“I heard you lost the child.”
Merlin froze. He did not want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever. He said nothing, returning his attention instead to the brush in his hand and the pale of water by his side.
Balian knelt. And suddenly, he was back to being Arthur. It was Arthur’s eyes, not Balian’s that glared at him from beneath gray-laced brows. It was Arthur’s face that looked so very disappointed. His golden king, whose wife had cried herself to sleep when she could not bear a child; who had come to Merlin begging - pleading - for aid and whom Merlin had been forced to refuse, because he knew what price would be paid.
“I will not insult you by asking if the child was mine.” Arthur said.
Merlin did not reply.
“I trust the babe was lost by natural means.” Arthur continued, “That you played no part in its death?” Merlin’s silence was answer enough. Within moments he found himself hauled upright and spun around - Arthur’s fierce and angry gaze fixed upon his face.
“How could you murder my child?” He demanded, and Merlin instinctively attempted to recoil from Arthur’s rage.
“I did not think you’d want a bastard.” Merlin ground out; writhing and twisting in an attempt to get away. He did not want to admit that he now constantly harboured a hollow, twisting ache; that he felt bereft and empty. After all, he had no one but himself to blame.
Arthur let him ago abruptly, and Merlin dropped to the floor, legs unable to support him.
“I may not have acknowledged the child.” Arthur acknowledged, “But I would not have denied it a chance at life.”
Merlin struggled upright, feeling angry and betrayed and violated. He wanted to swear at Arthur, to curse him before all the ancient gods and this one. He wanted to scream that this was Arthur’s fault - that if he hadn’t been so selfish things would have been different. Different than they had once been.
But there was no recognition in Balian’s gaze. He could not understand Merlin ire and in that moment Merlin wondered whether there was anything of his beloved Prince in Balian. Arthur never would have let a serving maid throw her life away pining for him; would never have risked getting her with child. Looking at the Baron of Ibelin, Merlin tried to convince himself that there was nothing of Arthur in this man’s face - that he had fooled himself. But he knew, knew that this was what Arthur would have looked like, had he lived. The greying hair, the creases by his eyes, the sagging skin just beneath his jaw -this was Arthur’s face. Merlin could not make sense of it.
Balian left him there. Damp brush dripping dirty water to the floor, motes of dust spiralling in the humid air.
الجنة مملكة
Sybilla’s son was dead before the Feast of Corpus Christi. Balian tried to place his wife’s child as queen but Sybilla succeeded her son. And named Guy her King.
Jerusalem was at war with Salahadin within the week.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin braced himself against the wall as the siege towers pounded the outer wall. Guy’s army - the army he had sent across miles of waterless desert - lay dead in the sand. Guy himself was captured and the Steward was still trying to gather funds to pay the ransom. Sybilla had fled, racing across the land to Tripoli and Balian had sent his wife and step-daughter with them. Those with the means had made for the sea, buying passage on whatever merchant ship would have them. It was like watching rats pour from the hull of a scuppered ship. But still, so many remained.
The catacombs had become a refuge. Women and children huddled in the stinking dark - too full of the scent of blood and death and unwashed wounds. Merlin hurried from sick bed to sick bed, helping the physicians tend what wounds he could and giving ease to the dying. Brothers in black habits moved amongst the beds, offering the last rites to whoever needed them.
A woman, hollow eyes and round bellied with child grabbed Merlin’s arm as he passed.
“Do you know - my husband, he was fighting on the eastern wall -”
Merlin shook his head and covered her hand with his own. She sagged and another woman, alike enough to be her sister, ducked to catch her. Merlin offered no apology - he had none left to give. Only seven of the men fighting on that front had survived.
A man wearing the colours of Ibelin nursed a broken arm. Merlin offered him what little medicine they could spare but he shook his head, motioning towards a young boy Merlin recognised as the Bishops manservant. The boy stared at Merlin - William, Merlin remembered, his name was William - eyes wide and wild in his too pale face.
“His lordship called us all to defend Jerusalem.” The boy whispered. He looked awed - as though to be communally addressed by the lord of Ibelin was as great an honour as being named a knight. “He called all men at arms, or capable of bearing them.”
Merlin wiped his brow, eyebrows furrowing when the boy showed no reaction as Merlin probed the head-wound he’d sustained. “How many are left within the city walls?” Merlin asked, gently running fingers around the edge of the gash. The boy did not even flinch.
“Enough that Salahadin we will be able to hold the walls. If we can last long enough to force the Saracen’s to offer terms and if the supplies we have hold, then we might yet survive.”
“You have a good head for battle.” Merlin said. The boy smiled, pleased to be offered a compliment from a pretty maid. Merlin wondered idly what he would say if he knew Merlin still though himself a man. “Rest now.” He instructed. “You need sleep.”
“But I want to fight. My lord said -”
“You will be no good to anyone, if you fall on your sword from fatigue.” Merlin countered. “Sleep.”
He stepped away, moving into the shadows before he quickly wiped his eyes. A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. Merlin turned, shaking his head when he saw Balian.
“How is he?”
Merlin sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, veil long since discarded. “He feels no pain from the wound. He was personal attendant to the Bishop he would have been in close contact with the king and with his nephew after.”
Balian closed his eyes. “He is a leper.”
Merlin nodded. “The disease has not yet begun to show. There is no telling when he was infected. But he cannot be kept near the other patients.”
Balian licked his lips. Brows drawn together in consideration. “Have him attend me in my chambers.”
“My lord -” Merlin began, but he was cut off.
“Have him attend me, Muirgheal.” The Baron’s eyes were sad. Merlin looked away.
“As you wish, my lord.”
الجنة مملكة
They burned the bodies at sundown in the courtyard of the church. The Bishop railed at the men who lit the torches but Arthur stood firm. Disease would spread if the bodies were not destroyed and they could not bury them outside the city walls. Merlin shivered in the shadows as flames ate at the deceased. Men, boys - some so young. The stars seemed to dim as the bodies turned to dust. Women screamed for their husbands and sons, the wails growing louder and louder until they echoed through the city streets. Shrieks echoed in Merlin’s mind. Flames leapt from reaching, white walls; the Pendragon standard caught in the smoke, the golden dragon rearing to break free.
A hospitaller recited prayers and all Merlin could see was Mordred standing there. The boy’s face was sharp and pinched with rage, arm raised as he bellowed curses. Morgana cackled on the walls and Gwen was screaming as they tore Lancelot’s dead body from her arms. The stench of burning flesh filled Merlin’s nose. He couldn’t breathe.
A barrage hit the walls and Merlin dropped to his knees. It was night - the battle should have ceased - but men were calling for aid and the foundations of the city shook. Arthur. Merlin had to find him - before Mordred’s forces breached the walls. He ran, ignoring the yells and blows of men who tried to force him back. Where was Arthur? He needed to be with his king. He made it to the watch tower - deserted now; it’s keeper having raced to help with the defence.
Merlin cast his gaze out across the land and for a moment nothing made sense. Where were the fields, the woods and village? Everything was a burnt and empty beach. It was gone - Albion had fallen. And then he remembered. This was no Camelot, this was Jerusalem. And Salahadin’s men had breached the outer wall.
Merlin could see them now. The place where the lesser gate had been filled centuries before was swarming with Saracen men. They were pouring up the walls and down the streets like rats, a dark wave that consumed everything in its path. And by the citadel was Arthur. He had rallied men at the entrance to the catacombs keeping the invading army from finding the women and children sheltered there. Bloodlust consumed these men. Merlin knew, that Salahadin was not the devil Christendom portrayed him as - were this not war his men were no doubt no different from those Merlin had lived amongst, for years. But war changed all people. Those who would never raise their sword to a child would now slaughter at will - enraged beyond all reason and fuelled by the lunacy of fanatics who heralded this bloodshed as the will of god.
Shuddering, Merlin raised his arms. The sun bled in his eyes as his power washed across the tide. The heavens opened. Clouds bloomed across the darkened sky, eclipsing all trace of natural light. The stars died, and the moon hid behind the rolls of thunder stampeding across the sky. Rain poured in sheets upon the armies. Cries of war were drowned beneath the torrent. Merlin had hoped that the rain would cool the battle; that Salahadin would call for a retreat but if anything the Saracen onslaught grew in strength and the Christian opposition joined it; both sides seeming to take the rain as a sign from God.
Desperate, Merlin began to chant. Mordred had once used such a spell, to sway and hold the minds of his army when their fervour began to fade. Merlin had sworn he would never resort to such a violation but he understood now how Mordred might have felt compelled. He could not let this violence continue. Light began to gather at his finger tips, spreading across the armies. Here and there, men laid down their arms but too quickly were simply killed by other men. It was no use. There was something here which rivalled even Merlin’s power. These men were beyond his control.
Exhausted, Merlin leant against the wall. Watching as the battle raged below. Perhaps his spell had some effect. Jerusalem’s men held their own until, eventually, Salahadin called for retreat.
The city was left, smoking and ruined - it’s outer wall destroyed, but the inner one still standing. The church still tall and proud but stained with ash and fire. Men cheered their victory, but it was a hollow sound.
A white flag was raised atop the Saracen army and Merlin watched, sick at heart as a Balian rode out to hear Salahadin’s terms. It would be simple enough: safe passage for every Christian soul within the walls and Jerusalem to be returned to Saracen control.
الجنة مملكة
The Exodus was swift. Women gathered what belongings they would save and joined their men - were they fortunate enough to have survived. Merlin joined a blacksmith and his family, helping care for the little ones as his wife road on a litter, behind. He would part company with them once they reached the sea; attempt to beg passage back to England. He was through with the lands in the East.
He saw the Baron of Ibelin once - when a group of knights rode by on their way to Galilee. The man paused as though he might say something, but in the end he continued on, flicking a silver coin in Merlin’s direction as he passed. Merlin gave the coin to the blacksmith’s family.
He never saw Balian again.
الجنة مملكة
Merlin looked at Fate as she sat peacefully by the lake - mural crown on her head and Fortune’s Wheel in her lap. He felt time-sore and worn. His reflection in the pool did not look like his own. He looked old.
In the water, the ghost of Arthur stood beside him, running a hand softly over Merlin’s hair, pressing his lips to the skin of Merlin’s temple.
“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Merlin accused. “You knew the pain this life would bring.”
Fate smiled and set the Wheel spinning again. “You should not have weighted the dice, Merlin. There is a punishment, as you are well aware, for those who attempt to cheat Fate.”
End.