Merlin fic: Para Bellum 6/7

[destina]

Para Bellum
by Destina
Art by goss

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

See master post for notes and summary.



VI.

In the morning, George brought an appropriate change of clothing for Merlin, and assisted Arthur with dressing while Merlin changed behind the screen. It was all so odd; Merlin had rarely accepted help dressing, and never from George, but he also had never been in the same room with Arthur while someone else dressed him. He threw on the dark blue velvet tunic and black breeches as quickly as he could, wincing as the fresh scabs at his side pulled and his body complained of his haste.

He poked his head around the screen only to find that George was placing the chain mail over Arthur's head with his usual efficiency, and tried not to feel entirely useless. It was a ridiculous sensation, but there it was. He emerged with his boots in his hand, socks slung over one shoulder and his belt hastily buckled, and George gave him a critical look.

"Excellency, if I may-"

"Leave Merlin alone, George," Arthur said, with what Merlin was astonished to recognize as fondness in his voice. "He'll just frown and grump if you try to straighten him out."

Merlin stared; the world seemed to have gone topsy-turvy in the few days he'd been gone.

"Very good, my lord." George yanked the chain mail into place, and belted Arthur's sword belt around his waist. He gave Merlin one last glance, but it was devoid of his usual disdain. Instead, he inclined his head to Merlin with what seemed suspiciously like respect, before asking Arthur, "Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you. Merlin will bring me my sword. You may go; I'm sure Leon will have you assigned to work assisting with the preparations." George bowed again, and as the door latched behind him, Merlin sat down with a thump, wincing again at the jolt to all his many bruises.

"What's come over George?"

"George has expressed his opinion, Merlin, that you are a good man, a very busy man indeed, and in need of an excellent manservant." Arthur's eyes were twinkling. "I think he means to volunteer his services, given that you will barely let him do his work for me without shoving him out of the way to do it yourself."

"That's not..." Merlin thought of the way he'd nearly ripped his tunic in half in his haste to displace George that morning, and sighed. "Point taken. I'll...try to be better."

Arthur leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed. "I know you don't trust anyone else to ensure my welfare. Why do you think I won't let him touch my sword?"

"You let him polish your mail," Merlin said, busying himself with his socks and boots.

A hand crept under his chin, and Arthur lifted it gently to press a bruising, deep kiss to Merlin's lips. Merlin dropped his boots and surged up into Arthur's arms, ignoring the cold press of metal in favor of the way Arthur's hand curled about the back of his neck. The kiss turned tender, after long moments, and Arthur pulled back to whisper, "That's just because I'm well aware you've enchanted it. All the polish in the world can't rub off the strength you've given these links."

Merlin ran his hand over the shimmering mail, which held every spell and enchantment and bit of magic he could press into it. "It is useless against a blade burnished in dragon fire," he said softly, thinking only of the ways it could be penetrated, and not the protections he had so carefully woven into it.

"I'll bear that in mind." Arthur stepped back, pushing Merlin back into his chair. "Now put your boots on and bring me my sword."

With a small smile, Merlin buckled on his boots, and then went to retrieve the sword. Every time he touched it, it seemed to welcome him, the blade singing through the air as he picked it up. "The same doubtless holds true for Mordred's armor," he said, handing Arthur the sword carefully. His magic soared the moment Arthur touched it.

"It's not likely I'd forget that." Arthur's hand lingered on the hilt a moment as he sheathed the sword, and then he straightened. "Ready?"

Merlin shoved a corner of his tunic down and properly buckled his belt, then dodged around Arthur to steal his comb from the bedside table. A few quick swipes, and he tossed the comb back. "Ready."

"I'm beginning to think George is right," Arthur said, smoothing down Merlin's hair. He turned away when Merlin rolled his eyes.

When they entered the great hall, a hush fell over the crowd. Merlin followed Arthur down the endless center of the hall, just behind him and to his right, and when Arthur was seated on the throne, he moved to a position behind him and to his right, as had always been his custom. George had become used to making way for him, even though Merlin was occupying the very same spot he always had when he was Arthur's servant.

He was still Arthur's servant, really. He always would be, and he liked the symmetry of it.

Once he was stationed, he looked up and had his first good look at the visiting emissaries. The Sidhe emissary, Lady Maura, seemed faintly blue in the morning light. Her dark hair was woven with what looked like shimmering pearls, and her long cream-colored gown was a swirling cloud of sparkling fibers, like white firelight. Two female courtiers accompanied her, neither as tall or as beautiful, but both wearing the same sort of gown.

By contrast, Lady Sureya of the Vilia wore a plain blue cloak, and her head was bowed. She looked up as Merlin's gaze passed over her, and smiled softly. Her eyes were a remarkable shade of silver-blue, glowing in her pale face.

Sir Leon stepped forward to announce them, and both women moved before the dais. Sureya bowed her head, but Maura did not offer any gesture of respect. Instead, she fixed Arthur with a direct, piercing stare.

"My lady Maura, my lady Sureya; I welcome you to Camelot, and I thank you for agreeing to meet with me." Arthur stood and stepped down from his throne, causing whispers all around the room as he descended the steps. Merlin moved out from the shadows behind the throne, but did not follow until Arthur beckoned him close. In the blink of an eye, Merlin was beside him; Sureya graced him with a smile.

"You may be aware that an army is marching on Camelot at this moment," Arthur said. "The kingdoms of Albion are united in our desire to repel this army, and to prevent those who lead it from doing harm to our people. It is certain they mean to destroy Camelot." Arthur paused, and Merlin leaned imperceptibly closer to him. The unspoken threat to Arthur himself made Merlin's blood run cold, and he had no idea of the alliances of these people.

"King Arthur," Sureya said. "My people are the spirits of the brooks and rivers of Albion. We protect this land, and we believe your destiny is to protect it also. Therefore we will help you in this coming trial. As Emrys knows, we are able to heal the sick and injured. You have but to place an injured man's hand in a few drops of water, and my sisters and I will do our best for him."

"I thank you, my lady." Arthur turned to Lady Maura, who had not stopped staring at him the entire time Sureya had been speaking.

"Arthur Pendragon, Once and Future King. Your destiny is written, and has been since the dawn of time. What we do, or do not do, cannot change what will come to pass." Her voice was like ice creeping across glass in a frigid winter, and Merlin resisted a shiver.

Arthur nodded his head, as if considering her words. "Perhaps, my lady. I know very little of what is written, I will admit. But I don't accept that we cannot challenge the prophecies of old, in order to make a better world. Even if, as you say, it is inevitable, what harm can it do to try?"

"A waste of effort," Maura answered, her gaze shifting to Merlin. It was all Merlin could do not to flinch back; his last encounter with the Sidhe had been one of the worst experiences of his life, and he did not trust them in the least. "Our magic is older than time, older than the dragons your father wiped from this world, older even than the prophecy which speaks of you, Emrys, and your destiny with this king. Tell us why we should intervene in petty mortal concerns."

Merlin drew in a deep breath, thoughts churning. He was no diplomat, no fine speaker with persuasive words like Arthur. All he could do was speak from his heart. "I have pledged my magic to the king, because I have long believed in the world he would build. It was his destiny to unite Albion, and he has moved the many kingdoms within this land toward that goal. He has made these lands safe again for magic users, and it is magic users who threaten the peace. I cannot stand by and watch them kill innocents." He paused, and added, "Your magic is born from the lifeblood of this land. You are of Albion, as I am. As we all are. You are the guardians of this land we all love. Perhaps it is your destiny to stand with us, and see the prophecy through."

She was silent , watching Merlin's face as he spoke. When he finished, she turned her gaze back to Arthur, searching his eyes. Arthur met her gaze, steady and true.

Finally, she sighed. "I can no longer see the future as clearly as once I did. But Emrys is correct; your path does cross with the Sidhe. That much is certain. Perhaps..." She turned back to Merlin. "It grieves us to be in conflict with those who practice the Old Religion, Emrys. We will provide one hundred warriors to fight with you, as your cause is just."

"A generous offer, my lady, and you have my gratitude," Arthur said, bowing his head. Another rumble went through the room. Arthur bowed to her as if she was a queen, and Merlin privately thought he was not wrong at all.

"You have humility, Arthur Pendragon. It is a quality we had not thought to see in you, but we are pleased." Maura stepped back, and the shimmering glow which had swirled about her began to grow brighter. "When next we see one another, it will be on the battlefield. Bring your bravest warriors," she said, and her laugh was like the crackle of lightning on a warm summer day.

The glow grew and grew, until Merlin was forced to shield his eyes; when it dissipated, she was gone, and so was the lady Sureya.

"That went well," Merlin said, blinking the afterimage away.

"Define well," Arthur said under his breath, turning to Leon. "Sir Leon, assemble the war council; I should like to know what plans have been made, and what is left to do." He strode down the center of the room again, as oblivious to the bowed heads of his people as he had been the first day Merlin met him. Some things never changed. To Merlin he said, "Can they be trusted?"

"I have no idea," Merlin said, as they passed through the doors and down the corridor, trailed by three knights and a few straggling advisors. It was the truth; all his dealings with the Sidhe had been negative. "But I can tell you that if she was sincere, there are no greater warriors in legend than the Sidhe. Their power is immense - certainly greater than anything Mordred's bringing to bear. Gaius would know more than I do about it."

"So we have the Sidhe on our side, and the Vilia." Arthur shook his head, bemusement clear in his tone as he added, "This is all very strange, Merlin. I had not thought to ever entertain magical creatures in this kingdom."

Merlin smiled. "I rather expected you'd only go to those lengths if I were actually dead and the kingdom on the brink of ruin."

Arthur seemed to be searching for words, until finally, he said, "Without you, Camelot is a wasteland. The taste of ash was in everything, until I saw you alive and well before me once again."

Merlin caught his breath, a hot blush creeping up his neck. "Arthur," he whispered, and then found himself at a loss for words. Arthur reached for his hand; his fingers encircled Merlin's wrist, pressing against the leather bracelet, before he withdrew and continued down the corridor, Merlin once again at his side.

**

Council was long, and the plans extensive. Patrols had been sent to every corner of the kingdom, watching for the army which stalked along Camelot's borders.

"Two patrols have reported skirmishes at the northeastern border, sire. By now, their leaders are surely aware we know they are massing. They appear ready to cross over our borders." Leon spread out a large map on the table, so that all might see and understand the territory being discussed as well as Leon had come to know it. "We will have to meet them further from the border than I'd prefer."

"How many of our allies have joined in this alliance?" Arthur asked.

"All, sire. Messages have arrived from Mercia, Caerleon, and Nemeth. All stand ready to assist and will send troops if needed." Leon paused, and added, "King Rodor sent a separate message under seal, disavowing any actions by his daughter's husband. It is clear Lot enjoys no support from Rodor despite his marriage to Queen Mithian."

Merlin thought about Mithian's quiet decision to stay with Lot and endure his treatment, despite knowing clearly what an animal he was. The best thing that could happen to her was her husband's death, which was not far off, if Arthur had anything to say about it.

"Lot will not join in this battle, I assume," Arthur said, looking at Merlin.

"I can't say for certain, but he took very little part in the war preparations."

"That's because he's a despicable coward who relies on others to do his dirty work." Arthur's eyes still blazed with fury. "Leon, ensure we have good men to send across the border once this battle is ended. I want Lot taken alive and brought back to Camelot to face justice for what he has done." Merlin knew that justice would be execution, and that Arthur would take satisfaction in it. He was not a perfect man; he had killed many for the sake of his kingdom. Merlin was not perfect, either, and had killed for Arthur's sake, but he would be deceiving himself if he did not admit, in the privacy of his own soul, that he would watch Lot swing with pleasure.

"Have you any sense of what kind of battle leader this man Mordred is, Merlin?" Percival was saying, as he studied the map.

"He's ruled by his emotions, and he's still very young. I can't imagine he has the necessary knowledge to lead men into battle. But the man who leads the warriors - Ruadan - certainly does. He's compelling, Arthur, and obviously a man who can lead warriors. Has done, I'm sure."

Gwen spoke up from opposite Merlin. "What I'm wondering is why Morgana chose to free Merlin. What does she have to gain from this? It makes no sense."

"It does, in a way," Merlin said. "I think her hatred of Arthur has diminished since he lifted the bans. Now someone like her - someone who uses magic freely - has tried to use her, and then set her aside. He wants to destroy Camelot. That isn't really Morgana's goal."

"Then why not stay out of it?" Gwen said. "Mark my words, you haven't seen the last of her."

"No," Merlin said slowly, thinking of the promise he'd made to Morgana. "No, I don't think we have."

"If she surfaces during the battle, can you contain her?" Arthur asked. Merlin knew he was thinking of the promises of peace, offered and not yet answered.

"I will do all I can, but I made an oath not to interfere with her unless she threatened you." Merlin thought that over and added, "A threat to your kingdom is an indirect threat to you, so...I expect I can contain her, yes. And there may be ways around the vow I took, if worst comes to worst."

"I will aid Merlin as I am able," Iseldir said quietly, from at the far side of the table.

"Very well." Arthur rose, and most of his councilors automatically rose with him. "The war council will convene to discuss the specific battle plans after supper." He nodded to Leon, who doubtless already had it arranged, as he always did.

"Merlin," Gaius said quietly, as the table dispersed.

"Have you made any progress with the prophecy?" Merlin asked. The word caught Arthur's attention, and he came to stand with Gaius as the rest of the group dispersed, talking quietly.

"I've been studying the prophecy, with Alator's help. But I can't tell you with any certainty that this battle, above all others, is the one where Arthur is fated to fall." Those words never failed to chill Merlin to the bone.

"At last report, Mordred's armies were moving toward the White Mountains." Arthur examined the map and added, "Percival tells me the place referred to in the prophecy - Camlann - is near there."

"Alator has said over and over again that things have shifted, changed - that the future is not as clear as it once was. We cannot be sure that the place, or even the circumstances, are the same," Gaius said.

"We can't take any chances. Arthur, you must be constantly on your guard," Merlin said.

"Agreed," Gaius said. "It may amount to nothing, but...it is wise to be prepared."

"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur said. He smiled. "Will you join us for our evening meal?"

"Even old physicians have battle preparations to make," Gaius said, returning the smile. "You will forgive me if I see to it."

"Of course." Arthur watched him go, fondness in his eyes. "He will miss having your assistance with the wounded, as in the old days," he said. Merlin thought ruefully of how useless he had been then, bumbling about with plasters and potions, not a bit of knowledge in his head that might help the dying. "You should persuade him to take an apprentice."

"Perhaps when all this is over," Merlin said. "I have other things on my mind, you know."

Arthur rolled up the maps and tucked them under his arm. "Join me for dinner, and we'll talk of all those things weighing on you."

In the absence of knights and courtiers, the great hall took on its customary hush. Merlin had barely been alone since he escaped Lot's custody, and the quiet grated on his nerves. To fill the silence with something other than memories of waiting in a cell, he began to tidy the piles of paper and the books weighing them down.

"Emrys. A word?" Iseldir had hung back, with that anxious, worried aura he sometimes had. It reminded Merlin of the way his mother looked at him, even now, when she felt he was missing the point somehow.

"Of course." Merlin leaned one hip against the round table as Iseldir stepped out from the shadows. The solidity of the table was comforting, like a promise of a stable world to come, if only they could find peace in which to enjoy it.

Iseldir tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe, and paused to gather his thoughts. Then he said, "What Morgana knew, but you have never accepted, is that you did not need her aid to break the bindings which held your magic. She took advantage of an opportunity to use your willful ignorance against you; she secured a promise from you in exchange for something you did not need."

"I couldn't touch my magic," Merlin said. "Cold iron worked as well on me as on any sorcerer."

"A sorcerer? Is that what you are?" Iseldir smiled. "You do not use magic, Merlin. You are magic. When you come to understand what this means, then you will know why no bindings can hold you - why no army can stand against you. If you were any other, I would fear this power in one so young, but I know your heart."

"Well, I don't have any special power, so-"

"Emrys. Do not deny what you are. Your king has need of you, and you must not fail him. Not this time."

"What do you mean?" Merlin stepped closer. "Are you speaking of that damned prophecy again?"

"You have heard but one prophecy; there are many more. Many shades and variations of a truth that will most certainly come to pass. Arthur Pendragon will fall one day, as all men must." Iseldir's face held nothing but certainty. "When the time comes, his fate will be in your hands. What you do now may determine whether those threads are irrevocably tied."

"I would never let harm befall Arthur."

Iseldir was silent, watching him in a way that made Merlin want to squirm under the scrutiny. Finally, Iseldir spoke without speaking, in the way that had always unsettled Merlin most. You have no need of tricks and spells, Emrys. Your power does not flow through you. Your power is of the earth and sky, of the water and fire. Direct it, as you were born to do.

"I don't know how," Merlin said, through gritted teeth. "I don't-"

Let the magic teach you. Open yourself to it. Iseldir placed his hand on Merlin's arm, squeezing lightly, and spoke aloud again, easing Merlin's discomfort. "When this battle has ended, I will take you to a place of great magic, and there I and others will teach you all we know. But for now, you need only understand that words do not matter, Emrys. Magic is deeper and greater than that simple device." He seemed to be beseeching Merlin to understand, and Merlin did not understand. He felt perpetually on the cusp of awareness, but without a lantern to see past the dark.

Merlin reached for some way to explain his frustration and found that words, indeed, had their limits. The simmering need to understand that crawled beneath his skin could not be answered. Not yet. The battle, and time, were between Merlin and his answers. All he could do was nod, and receive Iseldir's nod in return, as if some great secret had been shared between them and received in the spirit intended.

He gathered the papers and plans into his arms, and tried to persuade himself there would be time beyond this battle to learn, and to be taught.

It was his dearest hope that such learning would not come too late.

**

Camelot's army marched at dawn, a great caravan of men, horses, carts and equipment. Like a herd of beasts wending its way across the land, the might of the war machine progressed slowly, with knights and vassals to the front and sides. They were joined by troops sent by Camelot's allies on the second day. Arthur, Merlin, Percival and Leon rode ahead to scout out the terrain, with Elyan and Gwaine close behind.

The moment they crested the edge of the hill, Merlin knew they had come upon the place itself. He shivered, staring out at the barren, wide expanse of land, laid open between the peaks of dark rock. It was familiar, and yet new, like something seen in a dream, too strange to be real, too real to be imagined. Even before Merlin looked to Arthur, he could see the logic of choosing this place to meet Mordred's forces. They could easily be trapped, no way back, no way forward - but the same could be said of Arthur's forces, who might have means of retreat, but could not go far before being overtaken while on the run.

"It must be here," Arthur said. "If we are to make a stand."

"There is nowhere to place reserve forces," Leon pointed out, twisting in the saddle to see from all angles. "Everything can be seen; our scouts will not even be necessary."

"Place them anyway, and have the servants and squires set the camp back at the edge of the low hills, where we are sheltered from the elements."

Merlin saw to it that the Catha were made comfortable, though they seemed reluctant to take quarters meant for knights, or even servants attached to the column. There were only twenty of them, as well as Alator, who raised Merlin's tent with barely a sigh and the flick of a finger. Merlin grinned; it was not his way to casually use magic when labor would do, but he had been quietly aiding in the erecting of tents and the starting of campfires all over the site the entire afternoon, just to make the burden easier on the servants.

Liam and Eira were unobtrusive in the mix of bustling servants, assisting Gwen and Gaius with hauling water to the physician's tent. Merlin watched them for a time, before he approached them, stopping Liam with a hand to his shoulder.

"Emrys," Liam gasped. The bucket hit the ground unnoticed, sloshing water over his sandals as he fell to his knees and touched his head to the wet earth. Eira turned, her eyes widening, and knelt beside him.

"Don't," Merlin said, mortified that they felt they had wronged him, and unsure of how to repair the damage which had caused such fear. "Please get up - please," he urged, offering Eira his hand.

She put just her fingertips in his palm, as if scared his touch might burn her, and scrambled to her feet. Liam got up a moment later, both of them with bowed heads.

"It's all right," Merlin said, "I know neither of you had a hand in what Kara did."

"Oh, Emrys," Eira said, her lip trembling. "I am so truly sorry for what you endured. And I am sorry that any of my people were responsible. I cannot fathom it."

"I am sorry too," Liam said. "I feel like we should have known if we had only paid closer attention."

"And how were you to know?" Merlin asked. "It's a question I've asked myself a thousand times. I've been outspoken, even defiant, when I felt my king or my teachers were wrong. Kara was no different, and I could not have foreseen that her beliefs had led her down a different path."

"Nevertheless," Liam said. "We owe you a debt of service beyond what was promised by Iseldir, and we will provide that as penance."

"It's not necessary," Merlin said, clasping his hand. "Just make yourself useful during the battle, and help where you can. Eira, your healing talents would come in handy here with Gwen and Gaius."

She smiled, brightening. "Gwen asked me to stay, and I will, if you think it wise."

"I do." He smiled back.

Their hopeful faces haunted Merlin all the way back to his newly erected tent. Inside, George and two other servants bustled about, making a comfortable space for Merlin, similar to the space enjoyed by the king.

"None of that," Merlin said sternly, when servants approached with heavy tables and chairs. They looked blankly at him, bewildered. It was not like any noble to refuse the trappings of privilege. The newer servants had never known him when he was simply the king's clumsy manservant, wearing the same clothes for days on end and once, memorably, sleeping with the horses for two days while Gaius' workshop was occupied with injured soldiers. George intervened, hustling them away, and then sending one back with luxurious blankets and furs - the one thing Merlin could never refuse. He loved being wrapped in decadent softness with Arthur.

Alator and Iseldir joined him for a simple meal of fruit, bread, and cheese, while Merlin laid out his plans for the portion of battle he was responsible for - plans he and Arthur had argued over extensively before Arthur's touch had derailed all Merlin's arguments entirely. "If you are spaced evenly at the top of these cliffs," he said, pointing to where the sun was slowly setting the ridges on fire, "you will be well-positioned to see where Camelot's armies are in the most need."

"And you, Emrys?" Alator asked. "Will you join us up top?"

"For a time. But I must be on the battlefield with Arthur if I'm to be of best use." It was barely necessary for him to explain, but sometimes he felt as if every magical creature, every user of magic, understood more of his life and his destiny than he ever had, or ever would. The old frustration which had once accompanied the idea of that destiny sometimes caught up to him, making him feel far younger than his years, and ignorant of so much he should already know.

"We will leave you to prepare, then," Alator said, bowing low, and ignoring Merlin's discomfort when Iseldir followed suit. He gave Merlin a kind smile. "Don't be troubled, Emrys. Destiny is a thin thread, at times, and prophecy only attempts to weave it into the bright tapestry. The picture will become clear."

Once they had gone, Merlin slipped into the tent and sat down on the bed, alone with the vastness of his own worry. He had not hesitated to use his power on Morgana's armies, but it had been a desperate moment, and he'd had no time to think. This time, such careful strategy was in place, such meticulous preparation. Magic had never been at the center of it all before.

He was prepared to rain death down on Camelot's enemies, and the thought unsettled him deeply.

He looked down at his hands, turning them palm up, and then palm down. The damage he could do with a simple gesture, with the force of his intent, gave him pause. He wasn't frightened - could never be frightened, harnessing the magic which flowed in him and around him - but he sometimes felt he had only just begun to scratch the surface of his capabilities. If he opened his heart, and allowed the magic free rein, he might burn down the world in Arthur's name.

It had been said before - the sorcerer, the warlock, Arthur's weapon, trained to unleash fury at his command. In truth, his aversion to it was so strong, he knew there was no danger of losing himself. But in refusing to use his power for the good of Camelot, there was a danger - one long foretold - that he would lose Arthur.

Every path he examined, every step he took toward the end, could be the one to move Arthur toward his destruction.

If Arthur should fall, then let the world burn; there would be nothing left to save.

Merlin left his tent in the gentle twilight, which made the plain seem smaller somehow, less forbidding. He entered Arthur's tent, finding it set up with George's usual precision, and a fire burning in the brazier, but no sign of Arthur. His battle mail was draped over a wooden stand, and his sword set to the side, for later honing. Only a razor-sharp edge would do, for this battle would be like no other. Merlin would see to it.

The armor gleamed in the low light. Merlin ran his hands across the fine cool metal, whispering magic into the links, small protections against dangers Arthur should not ever face alone. The enchantments cast a soft glow and the armor shimmered golden for a moment, before the magic sank fully into the metal.

So engrossed was Merlin in shaping a barrier around the armor that he did not hear Arthur behind him until strong arms enclosed him gently. "Are you making me invincible, Merlin?" he asked, voice rumbling in Merlin's ear as he pressed a kiss to the tender spot just beneath.

"If I could, I would," Merlin said, tilting his head back for more kisses as he pushed even more magic into the armor, one final burst of resistance to sword and dagger.

Arthur caught his hands, running his fingertips down Merlin's fingers, as if to capture the magic there. He traced the back of Merlin's hands, provoking a shiver. "You must leave something for me to do myself."

Merlin turned in his arms, and with a press to Arthur's shoulder, guided him into a chair. Arthur allowed Merlin to remove his everyday chain mail, and then Merlin was able to tug his tunic off, and have access to his skin, to the fine pattern of scars, the light dusting of hair there. He whispered soft words, hardly even aware of them as he traced ancient symbols on Arthur's skin, even closer to his heart than the outer layer of protection would be.

Arthur drew in a sharp breath, and pulled Merlin into his lap so Merlin straddled his thighs on the chair. He cupped Merlin's face in his hands but Merlin ignored it for the moment, intent on finishing this one last task.

Arthur caught the final, murmured syllables, lifting them from Merlin's mouth with a kiss to take them into himself. Then he stood, lifting Merlin bodily with him, and walked them both the few short steps to the monstrosity of a bed Merlin had earlier refused in his own tent. Merlin laughed, startled, and petted Arthur's hair.

"You'll break your back before the battle is begun," he said, smiling as Arthur chased his lips for kisses.

"There you go again," Arthur said, tipping Merlin back onto the bed to crawl over him, the light of desire in his eyes. "I'm afraid I'll have to demonstrate my strength for you, then, and put any doubts you may have to rest."

Merlin laughed again, a sound which quickly turned to soft gasps as Arthur stripped him of his clothes far more efficiently than Merlin had ever done in reverse. It was a means to an end, as Arthur laid kisses against Merlin's skin, and whispered quiet words, their meaning all too clear even though the sound disappeared into each kiss.

"Arthur," Merlin said, closing his eyes. He pressed his cheek to Arthur's and sunk his fingers into Arthur's soft hair, sighing out with contentment. No matter what the battle brought, they had this, now, and it was had been dearly won, for both of them.

Arthur turned his head to kiss Merlin's wrist, his teeth catching at the bracelet there, and then sat back to strip off his breeches and smalls. He lay down beside Merlin, catching Merlin's hand to bring it to his hip, and then curled into Merlin so that hand slipped down, onto Arthur's arse.

Merlin prepared him with the same care he had always taken with Arthur, acutely aware of every sound, every hint of pleasure. He was barely inside Arthur when Arthur surged up into him, eyes bright, hands greedy for Merlin's skin, and turned Merlin onto his back, where he could watch Arthur take his pleasure slowly. Arthur rose and fell in slow, controlled movements above him, so tight around Merlin that all breath nearly left his body.

A fleeting thought passed through Merlin's head, that they had not had enough time, that there could never be enough time for this, and he threw his head back into the plush pillow, determined not to show his fear. Arthur's hand curled at his cheek, then slipped down to encircle his throat for a moment as he began to move faster, taking Merlin deeper.

"This is just another battle," Arthur said roughly, his hand coming to rest over Merlin's heart. "And I will never leave you. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," Merlin cried, the focus of his world narrowed to his cock inside Arthur, and the glorious sight of his king fucking him, stroking himself slowly. A moment later, Arthur shuddered and came, tightening around Merlin, his body drawn tense like a bow. Merlin arched off the bed, his hands locked tight on Arthur's hips, and lost himself in white-hot bliss.

He struggled to draw in air as Arthur eased off him, cleaning them both gently with the coverlet before stretching out beside Merlin. They stared at one another for long moments, until Arthur pulled Merlin closer, curling up against him so that they touched along the lengths of their bodies.

"Remember it tomorrow, if you begin to fear," Arthur said, his hand coming back to rest on Merlin's chest. Merlin placed his hand over Arthur's, and beneath their twined fingers, Merlin's heartbeat settled, steady and true.

**

Dawn had not yet come when George roused both the king and Merlin with whispered words. Arthur stirred first, his tousled head lifting from the bed as he blinked away sleep. He turned alert, wary eyes to Merlin and kissed his shoulder, then threw back the covers and took the basin of warmed water from George so he could wash.

The sounds of an army waking and setting about preparations for battle grew louder outside as Merlin pulled on his clothes from the day before; it mattered little, now. He turned his attention to Arthur's sword while George dressed Arthur. The magic Kilgharrah had breathed into the sword resonated through Merlin's bones and blood every time he touched it, but still he used magic to sharpen its impossibly fine edge even further.

With both hands, he handed the sword to Arthur, just as he always had. All the ways he could protect Arthur from afar, he had put into place. Arthur took the sword, reverent, and slid it into its sheath.

"I must go," Merlin said. "I need a vantage point overlooking the field for a starting point, but I'll join you on the battlefield when I can."

"Merlin," Arthur said. "Don't come down to the battlefield. Stay up top, where...where you can be of more use."

The idea of it caused a shudder Merlin could not control, and he pressed up against Arthur, for the feel of him strong, alive. "My place is with you, as soon as I'm able," he said, as Arthur's gloved hand combed gently through his hair.

"Just once, I'd like to see you do as you're told."

"Not today," Merlin said, stepping back. He offered a cheeky smile he didn't feel.

"You could at least stay for my speech," Arthur said, his eyes never leaving Merlin.

"A speech," Merlin murmured, shaking his head. "They might be more inspired if you talked less, actually."

Arthur made an outraged face at him, and for the tiniest moment, normalcy was restored.

All the warnings had been given time and again. They had talked through everything Merlin knew of Mordred, and of how he might attack. All the plans were in place. There was nothing left to say.

Merlin looked his fill at his king, and when his vision began to blur, he lifted the flap and exited the tent into the grey dawn.

To the left of where the knights were beginning to assemble, there was a commotion - warriors on white steeds, with white shields and lances full of shimmering blue fire. Lady Maura rode at the head.

"Emrys," she said. She nodded her head in response to his short bow. "As promised, we have come. Where can we be of use?"

"That is for the king to decide," Merlin said. "When the battle is won, I will thank you properly."

Her gaze seemed to see everything Merlin did not say, could not even think to himself. "When this battle is over, destiny will take its course. I will remain here until it is done."

"Good luck," Merlin said. The assembled group rumbled past, and Merlin watched it go, before turning toward the steep mountain path.

The climb did not take long, but the sun was creeping up before Merlin crested the ridge. In the near distance, he saw Alator, and the shadows of the other Catha, further down the way. He looked out over the armies, poised in eerie silence, ready to destroy each other at the first sound of the trumpet, and his blood ran cold.

Iseldir's words rang in his mind. Your power is of the earth and sky, of the water and fire. Direct it, as you were born to do. With a hitching sigh, Merlin closed his eyes, and opened his consciousness to the world around him. Rolling clouds rumbled overhead, carrying the seeds of a thunderstorm. Below, the earth trembled, uneasy, afraid of the red rivers the swords of men would create. He could feel the spark of change in the skin of the world, the rattling swords poised in the sky.

When he opened his eyes, the gleaming horde below had begun to move, inching slowly toward an eagerly met destruction. The blue lances of the Sidhe shone bright among the press of bodies, casting an otherworldly glow on Camelot's young warriors.

Merlin looked closely, focusing his vision on that which he most wanted to see, and found Arthur at their head, grim determination written in all the taut lines of his body. Leon was at his side, and Percival just behind him, intent on selecting targets to be cut down first in the mayhem.

He closed his eyes again, reaching out into the air, drawing down the power he could feel everywhere around him.

The trumpet sounded, distant, lonely, and the answering roar of men followed after.

Merlin thought, stop, and the sky answered his command. Lightning streamed down upon the battlefield, indiscriminately leaping from one enemy soldier to another. Their screams echoed up to Merlin, but distantly, like an echo inside a bottle. He looked down into the battlefield and picked out the lead regiments; he stretched out his hand, and lightning followed, striking time and again. The sizzle was followed by the scent of scorched metal, of burning flesh. His stomach turned, but there was no time for regrets.

All around him, light flashed, near and in the distance, as the Catha followed his lead. They pointed their staffs toward the battlefield, and warriors fell beneath the magic they directed there.

From the edges of the forest, enemy Druids on horseback began to join the fray. Merlin asked the earth to open and receive them, and great yawning chasms appeared beneath the ground they traveled across. Men and horses disappeared into the abyss, and the ground rumbled back into place, seamless, pristine.

The Sidhe sent up a battle cry which raised the hair on Merlin's arms, mournful and restless, as they plunged forward through the milieu. Merlin could see their magic mingling with that of the Catha even as columns of water rose twisting in the air, the forest streams and brooks answering the call of the Vilia, crashing down over warriors and washing them away.

Merlin heaved a deep breath and staggered back. Now that the enemy forces were thinned, he had to get below. He ran for the path, heart pounding as if to burst from his chest. He made his way over the jagged rock, veering off toward the edge of the clearing.

The sounds of chanting filled the air. As Merlin neared the edges of the plain, he saw Iseldir's robed Druids working in pairs, dogging the footsteps of the knights. Their quiet words encircled the knights with protection, deflecting the worst of the blows aimed toward them while enhancing their aim. Twenty feet from Merlin, Elyan was making his way steadily toward the line of soldiers behind the warrior Druids, Percival at his heels.

Merlin held up his hand. "Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme. Fromum feohgiftum," he said; a ball of light appeared in his palm. As the ball grew in size and brilliance, he said, "Show me Mordred." The magical beacon sped off across the battlefield, hovering near the middle.

Head down, Merlin threw himself into the fray.

With effort, Merlin could see breaks in the battle, places where he might press through, like a path through a dense forest. He stepped ahead, and was swallowed by the churning battle, like an ocean closing around a pebble. But his insight enabled him to find the path of least resistance, and he pushed ahead. From out of the crowd, one of Ruadan's men barreled toward him, and Merlin snapped his neck with a quick motion of his hand. There was no time for regret - he had to find Mordred.

"Emrys!" He turned to see who had bellowed his name, and Liam was there, shouldering his way toward Merlin. Without words, they continued on, Liam at Merlin's side, forcing their way past those still fighting, and the dying men writhing on the cold ground.
Merlin watched his orb as it circled the battlefield, tracking Mordred; they were not far away now, though their progress was agonizingly slow, and they were engaged in a new struggle every few feet. Merlin pushed aside three men who ran for him with swords, and a burst of magic took him off his feet. He fell with a gasp, the wind knocked out of him. Liam dropped down beside him and shouted, "Forbearnan firgenholt!" A dead tree limb uprooted itself and smashed into the enemy Druid's face, knocking him unconscious.

Liam pulled Merlin to his feet and as Merlin turned, something struck him in the back - a burst of magic so powerful, he knocked into two knights in front of him. They fell together, tangled, and Merlin twisted to his back to see Ruadan approaching. Liam took a step forward and Merlin cried, "No! Liam! Protect Arthur at all costs, do you understand?" Liam nodded, and vanished into the crowd.

Ruadan pointed his sword toward Merlin. "Yield, Emrys, and I will let you live," he shouted.

In answer, Merlin threw his arms in front of him and directed his will toward Ruadan, who lowered his sword and turned his face away, palm extended out. Merlin's magical push glanced off Ruadan, staggering him, and Ruadan's lips moved. Merlin wasted no time diving to the side; he shouted "Folge min bebod," but Ruadan repelled the magic yet again with a flick of his finger.

The knights Merlin had toppled regained their feet and attacked Ruadan as one, each taking a side and pressing their advantage. For the first time, Merlin could see Ruadan's vaunted skills in battle, which had overshadowed even his powerful command of magic. Ruadan chose to meet Camelot's knights as equals, sword to sword and Merlin's reluctant respect for him notched up.

Even so, there was only one way this could end, and Merlin could not afford any more distractions. Merlin pulled his lower lip between his teeth and closed his eyes, finding every sword on the battlefield which had fallen from its owner's lifeless grasp. He reached out for fire and metal fused together, drawing on the magic in the swords Mordred had forced Aithusa to create. He listened for the song of that magic, the elemental power of it, and summoned the song to his bidding, to a single focused point in his consciousness.

A hundred swords arced in the air, gleaming in the fresh rays of dawn as they descended on the battlefield. Their song filled Merlin's ears as they sank to his bidding, and when their song stopped, Ruadan stood wavering, impaled on a bank of swords, his eyes wide with disbelief. With a grimace, he lowered his own sword and fell, his body not quite touching the ground, held above it by the mass of steel piercing his body.

Merlin dragged his eyes away and looked up to see the orb hovering over the battlefield not far from his position. He charged into the melee again, his magic breaking a path for him in the body-to-body death grapple all around them. Warriors and knights alike were tossed aside, the price of haste, as Merlin sped toward Mordred.

And then finally, as the crowd parted courtesy of Merlin's magic, Mordred was there, sword drawn, an expression of grim concentration on his face as he buried his sword in Arthur's belly.

His voice echoed in Merlin's head, drowning out the screams and cries of the dying and suffering, and Merlin's own scream of Arthur's name - a scream his king did not answer.

It comes down to this, Emrys. It was always fated to be so.

Arthur turned his face toward Merlin, saying everything with his eyes, and fell to one knee, his left hand covering his wound.

In the next instant, Merlin's heart tried to lift itself from his chest and return to Mordred's outstretched hand - or so it seemed. Merlin gasped, crushing the pain back to a manageable level as Mordred advanced. Behind him, the hand-chosen warriors who had dogged his every step in the Perilous Lands drew nearer.

Merlin thrust his hands in front of him, and lightning found them, curling around his hands like snakes. He moved his arms out to his sides, until they were fully outstretched, coils of lightning all around him. He let the power fill him, overcome him, and then he clapped his hands over his head.

Instantly, warriors on all sides of them - Druids and Lot's soldiers alike - fell to the ground, lightning sizzling over their bodies like sparks from bonfire. Mordred smiled grimly, and in the eerie silence which followed, threw his sword toward Merlin; it sailed end over end toward him at unthinkable speed.

Stop, thought Merlin, and the sword arrested its motion a hair's breadth from his face. Return.

Mordred cried out an instant later, as the cartwheeling sword sank into his left shoulder a few inches higher than needed for a quick kill. Merlin wasted no time - he threw his power Mordred's direction, only to be met with a wall of cold rage, swallowing his elemental power and breaking it apart.

Mordred pulled the sword from his shoulder with a cry and flung it aside; his green eyes burned with rage. His fingers twitched toward Merlin, and Merlin's limbs began to misfire, as if they were no longer attached to his body. He stumbled and fell to his left side, pain threading through him like white-hot needles in every part of his body. Mordred loomed close in his field of vision.

Before Merlin could regroup, Mordred's body lurched forward in an unnatural arch. Blood dripped from his open mouth. As Merlin fought to regain control of his own body, he stared at the sword protruding from Mordred's chest. It disappeared, only to reappear a second time, and then a third, and fourth. And then Mordred fell to the side, his lifeless eyes staring into the distance, revealing Arthur standing behind him, bloodstained sword in his hand.

Merlin rolled to his side and crawled toward Arthur. He reached him in time to catch him as he pitched forward. "Arthur!" he cried, settling to the ground with Arthur's heavy body cradled in his arms.

"You're all right?" Arthur asked, lifting his gloved hand to touch Merlin's face.

"Yes, oh, Arthur," Merlin said, voice wavering. He wasted no time; he pressed his hands to the torn chainmail and whispered,"Þurhhæle dolgbenn." But even as he poured all his magic and love into the torn flesh, he could tell it was not working; there was no healing beneath his touch.

"Help me! The king!" Merlin shouted, and shouted, until his breath was gone, until knights had come to lift Arthur on their shoulders, until Percival pulled Merlin to his feet and quieted him; until Gaius appeared in his dust-stained robes to tend to the king.

The knights laid Arthur gently on a pallet of rough woolen blankets, and Arthur made a pained sound. Merlin went to his side and took his hand, and tried again to heal him as Gaius directed his mail be removed.

"The blade has broken off near his heart," Gaius said after long, tense moments of examination. "Can you pull it from him, Merlin?"

Merlin placed his hands on Arthur's belly and pulled at the tiny, invisible shard with all his might. Arthur grunted, and closed his eyes, jaw clenched tight. But the dragon-forged blade did not move closer to the surface of Arthur's body; it only fled deeper, away from Merlin's magic.

"It's not working," Merlin said. He wiped away dust and tears from his face with the back of his sleeve.

"If he has been wounded by a blade burnished with dragon fire, the only magic I know of which is strong enough to save Arthur is Sidhe magic," Gaius said.

Sir Leon pushed his way through the crowd and knelt beside Arthur, opposite Gaius and Merlin. "Sire!"

"Leon, we need Lady Maura's magic," Merlin said. He held his hand over Arthur's wound, though he knew it was not helping. Arthur's hand slowly covered his, warm and solid.

"We'll find her," Leon promised, pressing a hand to Arthur's shoulder. A group of knights followed him away, but Merlin had eyes only for Arthur, who was smiling at him.

"This is what I get for putting so little faith in prophecy," he said ruefully.

"Don't say that," Merlin answered, leaning closer to hide the hitch in his voice. "You are not going to die this day, Arthur Pendragon. I forbid it."

"Well then," Arthur said, his expression comically obedient. "I'll endeavor to obey, Your Excellency."

"Shut up," Merlin said desperately, and then he was kissing Arthur, because words would never be enough for all the orders and pleas and declarations in his heart.

"Emrys." Merlin sat back on his heels to see Lady Maura standing off to the side, her expression filled with pity.

Merlin had no thought of pride or debt; his fear overwhelmed everything as he said, "Please, Lady Maura. I beg of you. Save him."

"No need to beg," Maura said. She lowered herself to the ground, and the brightness of her magic made Merlin shield his eyes. "But we are far from the waters of Avalon; our magic is weaker when we are away."

"I may be able to assist with that," Lady Sureya said from behind her. Gaius accepted Percival's hand up, and made way for her to kneel beside Merlin. "Your hands, Emrys - cup them before you."

Merlin cupped his hands, and she said, "Lend your magic to mine, and bring a storm to Camlann." As she touched his hands, her magic flowed over him like a soft breeze, a memory of summer and the scent of yellow flowers in the field.

Merlin whispered the words to bring a storm, and as thunder boomed overhead, the sky lit with lightning, nearly as bright as Maura shone. Sureya's hand slipped beneath Merlin's, and as rain began to fall, droplets of water seemed to aim themselves toward Merlin's hands, which were ready to receive them. After a time, the rain tapered off, and Merlin's hands shook beneath the precious waters they protected.

"The waters of Avalon, summoned for you," Sureya said to Maura. "Though it is not much; our magic is weakened away from the water, too."

"It will be enough." Maura dipped her fingers into the water, then pressed them to Arthur's wound, and he thrashed beneath the touch. "Be still, Once and Future King, and let the future unwind."

For long, breathless minutes, Maura crouched motionless, as the glow from her body spread over Arthur's in turn. Arthur gripped Merlin's hand tightly, and then tighter still, while Merlin fought the urge to let the Sidhe magic consume him. Its seductive touch was stronger than the oldest magic he had ever experienced -- Kilgharrah's magic, poured into him to help him defeat Cornelius Sigan. Even that deep, old magic, drawn from the very fabric of the world, could not compare to the sorcery Maura weaved through Arthur's body.

The Sidhe magic grew incrementally dimmer, withdrawing as it finished the work it had been tasked to perform. Arthur closed his eyes, and his breathing became even, no longer shaken with pain. Merlin touched his stomach with wonder; the wound was completely healed. Not even a scar remained. On his chest lay a jagged shard of metal, cool to Merlin's tentative touch.

"It is done." Maura took the shard from Merlin. It dissolved to nothing in her hand. "He will rest a while, and he will live."

"Thank you," Merlin said, though the words were a pale reflection of what was in his heart. He reached to grasp Sureya's hand as well. "Thank you, for his life."

"We all must play our part," Maura said, with a speculative look at Arthur's peaceful face.

Merlin barely noticed as they withdrew, and Gaius ordered Arthur carried into his tent. He was never more than an inch from Arthur's side until he was tucked and settled in his bed, and Gaius had examined him again.

"He is asleep, Merlin, and appears healed, just as Lady Maura said." Gaius squeezed his shoulder. "You have done it."

"I have done nothing," Merlin said softly, gazing at the miracle of his living king. "And I owe much to those who have saved Albion this day."

"You have saved this land, and Arthur, many times over," Gaius said. "There is not a man nor magical being in Camelot unaware of it."

"That doesn't matter." Merlin took up a cloth and cleaned the blood from Arthur's chest. "They owed me nothing."

"No. And the fact that they came to Arthur's aid is quite telling." Gaius took the cloth away from Merlin. "You should rest as well, my boy."

"I...I can't," Merlin said, blinking away the grit and dust in his eyes as his vision blurred. "There's so much to do, the-"

"Merlin!" Liam burst into the tent, looking about wildly, and flung himself at Merlin's feet. Blood streaked down both sides of his face, and matted his hair. "I could not reach the king in time. I am so sorry."

"Let me see," Gaius said, poking at Liam's head in a familiar way which made Merlin smile. "It's a wonder you're still conscious!"

"I wasn't, for a while," Liam said. "And then I was, and I came to find Arthur straightaway." He seemed to notice the king for the first time. "Has something happened? Is the king all right?"

"Yes," Merlin said, a bit of hysterical laughter threatening to bubble up. "Something has happened. But it's fine now." He patted Liam on the shoulder in thanks. "You've done well. You should go find Eira; she will need your help."

"My place is with you," Liam said, "and here I will remain."

"I don't need your help," Merlin said, eyes on Arthur.

"You do, and you shall have it," Liam said stubbornly, his jaw set in a way that was all too familiar to Merlin; he refrained from telling Liam he was like an irritating horsefly, always hovering about, because Merlin was not unacquainted with those traits. Besides, the boy had shown where his true loyalties could be found.

"Have it your own way," Merlin said, smiling at Liam's look of relief.

Leon pushed open the tent flap and moved immediately to Arthur's side. He gazed at Arthur with such reverence that Merlin looked away, out of respect for the long history they shared. "He's all right?" he asked Gaius, who nodded.

Leon heaved a great sigh and accepted a cup of water from Liam with a grateful nod. "Merlin, the forces that are left have scattered - we've sustained heavy casualties, but there is no doubt of our victory." He looked at Merlin, expectant, and with a jolt Merlin realized that Leon was deferring to him - that he expected Merlin to lead when Arthur could not. It had never occurred to Merlin that such a thing would be asked of him. He was not meant to rule Camelot; it was not his destiny. He shoved the idea of it away so violently that he shuddered. With luck and hope, such a thing would never come up again.

"Yes," Merlin said, "it is a great victory." He found he believed it, though the words rang hollow with so many dead littered across the great plain. Arthur was safe, and Camelot would soon be secure. The threat was ended, for now.

"There's been no sign of Morgana, either," Leon said. "So far."

"Make sure any of the Druids left alive are secured in cold iron, Leon." Merlin thought for a moment and added, "We should withdraw from this plain as soon as possible, and seek a fortified position lower in the mountains on which to meet what remains of their army, if they advance again." He paused. "Would you agree?"

"Yes." Leon cleared his throat. "I have dispatched a contingent of knights to retrieve Lot, as Arthur ordered prior to battle."

"Thank you, Sir Leon," Merlin said. The warmth of Leon's smile was an unexpected gift, one of many on a long and terrible day.

Merlin sat with Arthur a while longer, watching his eyelids flutter as he dreamed. When finally his lingering fear for Arthur's life had eased to a relatively normal level, Merlin tapped the sleeping Liam on the shoulder to rouse him. Together, they made their way past the numerous guards outside to the tent housing the many wounded knights.

Eira and Gwen were tending the injured, and dread crept back into Merlin's heart; he did not know how Percival or Elyan had fared.

A huge smile lit Gwen's face when she saw Merlin, and when she threw her arms around him, he gave in to the need for a moment's comfort. "We've all heard about the king. But are you all right?" she asked, as she drew away and began fussing over the blood on Merlin's hands.

"I'm fine," he answered, even as she looked him over, satisfying her own need for reassurance. "How is Elyan, and the others?"

"Elyan is well - I haven't seen Percival yet, but Gwaine is here. At the back," she said, pointing. Merlin kissed her cheek and went to see about his friend.

"Merlin! I see you managed not to get yourself killed," Gwaine said with a grin. "And Arthur?"

"He's fine now," Merlin said, grinning back. "Did you throw yourself at a sword, Gwaine? I can't imagine how else you would have ended up here."

"Threw myself in front of one of those Sidhe you're so fond of, more like." Gwaine flopped back on his blankets with a groan.

"And I'm sure she was beautiful, wasn't she?" Merlin said, nodding sagely.

"Of course she was. A man has to do his duty." Gwaine threw his arm over his eyes. "Never mind that she tossed me to the side and defended my honor by killing ten or twelve Druids. We'll just forget that part, shall we?"

"Immediately." Merlin laid his hand over the bandage and sneakily whispered his best healing spell, though Gwaine lifted his arm to give a suspicious peek.

"Here now! Save all that mumbo jumbo for the truly injured. Away with you; someone needs to tell Percy to go rescue my horse from Maura."

"She stole your horse?" Merlin couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him, because he knew now Percival was all right.

"The woman has no shame. It's a common theme with those magical ones." Gwaine's arm shifted to cover his smile.

Leon stuck his head inside the tent and called out, "Lot's forces have surrendered! And the Druids have laid down their arms!"

A cheer went up from inside the tent, and for the first time in days, Merlin took a deep breath, free of fear for Arthur's life. He sat silent with Gwaine as the cheers of men and women echoed across the battlefield, across the bodies of the dead and dying, one bittersweet moment in the midst of a victory which had cost them all so dearly.



on to part seven