Merlin Oneshot: Through Hours of Gloom Fulfilled

[jesterladyfic]

Title: Through Hours of Gloom Fulfilled
by Jesterlady
Rating: PG
Summary: Merlin gives Arthur a different answer during The Disir.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. The title is by Matthew Arnold. Some lines are from the show.



Through Hours of Gloom Fulfilled

“How did you know this place was sacred?” Arthur asked curiously.

“That's obvious,” Merlin said, stacking the wood.

“Pretend it isn't,” Arthur said, rather patiently for him.

Merlin paused and considered his answer.

“Everything here... is so full of life. Every tree, every leaf...every insect. It's as if the world is vibrating. As if everything is much more than itself.”

“You feel all that?” Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled to himself.

“Don't you?” he said. Arthur shook his head and Merlin went to sit on his pallet. There was silence for a moment before Merlin had to satiate his curiosity. “What will you do?”

“I don't know,” Arthur said simply. “My heart says do anything I can to save Mordred.
But I have seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. Before my father outlawed magic, Camelot was almost destroyed by sorcery. In my own time, Morgana has used it for nothing but evil.” Arthur nodded toward Merlin. “What would you do? In my place?”

“Me? I'm just a lackey, a maker of beds,” Merlin deflected.

“Lackeys can be wise,” Arthur said charitably and then pinned Merlin with a searching look. “It is not like you to be silent.”

“The kingdom's future is at stake,” Merlin said, hoping Arthur would let it go.

“And a man's life,” Arthur said pointedly.

Merlin sucked in a breath and considered his words carefully.

“You must protect Camelot,” he said. “You must protect the world you have spent your life building - a just and fair kingdom for all.

“You would have me sacrifice a friend?” Arthur asked quietly.

“I would have you become the king you are destined to be,” was the only honest answer Merlin could give, because what he really wanted to say would be too much for Arthur to hear.

“If I do save Mordred,” Arthur said, in his normal thinking out loud voice, “all my father's work will be for nothing. Sorcery will reign once more in Camelot. Is that what you'd want?” Merlin could not answer, if he did, his heart would take over and he’d beg Arthur for mercy for magic. “Perhaps my father was wrong, perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought. So what should we do? Accept magic? Or let Mordred die?”

The words hung in the air between them and Merlin could barely breathe. The struggle inside him was more desperate than he could remember feeling. There had been many moments when he had wanted to tell Arthur the truth, many times when he did not see his way forward, many times when his loyalties were stretched to his limits. Had they all been leading to this ultimate moment?

He could feel tears rising in his eyes, should he deny his very self, deny his own destiny…but to save Arthur’s life. Kill Mordred, someone who seemed utterly ignorant of the vicious part he was to play in Arthur’s fate? If Arthur thought his choice hard, Merlin would love to help him understand how much harder it was for Merlin. Merlin was making a decision with his eyes open, possessed of all the facts.

Perhaps it was that thought that caused him to pause. His breathing was heavy and Arthur seemed very far away and yet larger than life, waiting for Merlin’s reply. Merlin cursed his fate that always brought him to these moments, the ones when he decided life or death, secrets or truth, friendship and loyalty against duty and protection.

He thought of Mordred standing beside him, silent over the grave of a fellow sorcerer, the flash of hope in his eyes when Merlin had said he believed sorcery would one day be free in Camelot.

He thought of Kilgharrah absolutely sure in his edict Mordred deserved to die, yet also insistent that there were many paths to the future.

He thought of the Disir and their words resounded in his head.

The future holds much pain and suffering for you, Arthur Pendragon.

For you and your people.

If you wish to save all you hold dear. If you wish to save your kingdom.

Embrace the Old Religion. Learn her ways. Bow to the Goddess.

Their words held the conviction of truth and Merlin was powerless to know how to counteract their divine judgment. His goal was to save Arthur, to save the destiny it had been pounded into his very soul Arthur was meant to have. On one hand he held the prophecy of Mordred, and on the other he held the Disir’s warnings against Arthur’s disrespect of magic. They appeared to contradict each other and that is what gave him pause. Why would the Disir use the death of Mordred as an incentive for Arthur turning to the Old Religion if Mordred was the cause of Arthur’s pain and suffering and the downfall of Camelot as Merlin had seen?

Merlin had already denied Mordred healing by his own magic, sacrificing someone who had once looked up to him so desperately, should he not do it again, deny the future glory on the desperate hope Arthur wouldn’t die?

Because that was his main and only concern at all times. Merlin didn’t like to think about it too much and certainly when Arthur was being arrogant and condescending, Merlin wanted to kill him himself, but the truth was Merlin was afraid there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to save Arthur. Sacrifice Mordred, the Knights, Gaius, Gwen…the thoughts were too terrible to contemplate. Yet Merlin did, he held life in his hands day after day, and the burden of his protection of Arthur was an immense one. Merlin had done many horrific things in the name of Camelot, in the name of protecting Arthur. What was one more sin to add to the pile? What other nightmares could he possibly create for himself?

But he had been wrong so often, he’d driven Morgana to evil and look at what she had wrought. Merlin had followed the advice of Kilgharrah before to disastrous results. Prophecy had wound its clever and conniving web for him to follow and the outcome was never what he thought. Would Merlin never learn his lesson? Had he become so entrenched in his idea that Arthur must survive that he was driving the dagger into his king’s heart, by denying him the very building blocks Arthur needed to become the great king Merlin believed he was destined to be?

Could Arthur make a good decision without the facts? The knowledge that magic could be good and pure and innocent and holy and right. The knowledge that magic had protected his life for so long. The knowledge that his friend and servant had lied to him.

Was Merlin merely afraid for himself at this point? No, he didn’t think so. If it were so, he would not consider denying the very thing that gave him breath.

He still did not know what to say and he was frozen, helpless. Either way he risked it all.

He looked at Arthur, wondering if the other man could see the struggle in his eyes, or was curious as to why Merlin was so upset over something that shouldn’t affect him as it affected Arthur.

What Merlin saw was strength and bravery, the willingness to admit a wrong, the humility to put others before himself, a love that had crossed all boundaries, and a man who struggled to know truth and honor and the burden of a kingdom daily. It was a glorious sight and it gave Merlin the strength to say the words he’d feared he would never be able to say.

He might not reveal himself and still defend magic, but that would be the cowardly way out, disrespectful to the court of magic he was so surrounded by, and a denial of the truth of the destiny Arthur must begin to hear and know for himself. It would never magically happen without Arthur’s own will being involved and Merlin had kept that decision from him for too long. Merlin did not want the responsibility to be his alone anymore. If he and Arthur were two sides of one coin, it was time for the other side of the coin to face the light.

He took deep breaths, opening his mouth several times without anything coming out.

“Arthur,” he finally said. “The decision is yours but if you really want to know what I think…I beg you to accept magic.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed and he stared at Merlin like he didn’t know him.

“Not the response I was expecting honestly,” Arthur said. “You do not seem overly fond of Mordred recently, so that cannot be the reason for begging.”

“It isn’t,” Merlin admitted. “Mordred has done all that you say and more. I believe he looks up to you and would die for you. But I fear it is not he that will die for you, but you that will die at his hand.”

“Well, at least you’re back to talking nonsense,” said Arthur, looking uncomfortable.

“I know that you believe the Old Religion is superstition, that you want to make your fate with your own hands,” said Merlin. “But as I said before, there is a difference between fate and destiny. Your destiny has been written long before either of us were born. I believe in magic, Arthur, I believe in its power and its good and its usefulness and its destruction and its purpose.”

“Merlin,” said Arthur, now sounding angry, “I don’t like where this is going.”

“You asked,” Merlin said, shrugging, but dread hung over him. “I have seen a prophecy, Arthur, one that says Mordred will kill you. It’s taking everything I have right now not to tell you to let him die so you may live.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Arthur. “Mordred wouldn’t and there’s no way you know anything of the sort.”

“I know many things,” said Merlin, rubbing his hands across his eyes. “Things that could get me killed and that is why I have hidden them. But living like that is hard and it means not sharing important things with the people you care about. It means so much more beyond that.”

“Merlin-” Arthur began, but Merlin interrupted him.

“I am magic, Arthur.”

The simple statement hung in the air between them and Arthur’s mouth was slightly open. Normally Merlin would laugh at the sight, but right now he was too busy desperately concocting more words of explanation for when the explosion of anger came.

“What?” Arthur finally said.

“I was born with magic,” said Merlin, taking advantage of Arthur’s shocked silence. “I did not learn sorcery for power or evil or good, I cannot help the magic that comes as naturally to me as breathing. I am sorry I could not tell you and you must understand why I didn’t at first. I would have been killed by your father. But please believe me; I have never used my magic against you. I have used it only to save you, to help you become the king I know you are. It is my destiny, just as yours is to rule. I am your servant, now and always, Arthur.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened and his fingers reached for his sword.

“I don’t-” he started to say. “Prove it,” he said sharply. “Prove it to me.”

Merlin let his eyes glow unhidden for the first time and he passed his hand toward their campfire, whispering familiar and beloved words. A tiny dragon of fire rose from the flames and hovered in the air before dissipating into embers.

“The emblem of the house of Pendragon,” Merlin said softly.

Arthur stared in disbelief, warring emotions ranging across his face.

“But I would know, Merlin,” he said. “I would know if you were…”

“I don’t think you wanted to know,” said Merlin quietly. “But I am, Arthur, I am. I’m not sorry for that, but I am sorry you didn’t know and that you know now as you do.”

“I trusted you,” Arthur said disbelievingly. “You lied to me…all this time?”

“I use my magic for you. Only for you,” said Merlin firmly.

“What does that matter?” asked Arthur. “How can I even talk to you? How can I believe you?”

“Because you have a choice,” said Merlin. “You can walk into that cave tomorrow and tell them you will respect the Old Religion or you can tell them you do not want sorcery in Camelot. Mordred’s life hangs in the balance, but I fear, so does yours. They are not to be trifled with and they are very real, no mere superstition. They are not good or evil; they simply serve their Goddess as I serve you. I want to save your life and bring about a new golden age for Camelot. This is the destiny I was promised many years ago. How that destiny can come to be without magic, I do not know. But to do so would save Mordred’s life…a man who will kill you though he does not know it.”

“Your words are nothing but confusion,” said Arthur. “You tell me all this time you have used me and lied to me and then in the same breath warn me against a man who has done nothing but save my life.”

“Twice,” said Merlin. He tried to speak without bravado. “But I have saved your life hundreds of times. And you did not even know it.”

“Then how can it be proven?” argued Arthur, but Merlin could see the patterns and explanations beginning to click in his head.

“Remember,” said Merlin gently, tears thick in his voice. “Who has been at your side? Who has followed you into battle? Who has deflected arrows and stopped spells and defeated dragons and drank poison for you?” He looked down, embarrassed and ashamed. “Arthur, I was born to serve you and I don’t regret that. I only regret you feeling betrayed by me. I wouldn’t change who I am, because who I am helps you, even if you don’t see it. But I would change your view of magic, I would help you learn, help you see its beauty, help you tame the destruction it can bring, to let the abused and the downtrodden feel alive and free again, and do whatever you need to bring Camelot to glory.”

“I need to think,” Arthur said. “Leave me.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said.

“I said, leave me,” Arthur said sharply.

Merlin sighed and walked away. He did not know if he was facing death or persecution or simply sadness at losing his best friend. He did not know if he had condemned Camelot and Arthur or if he had saved them. He knew only that the secret was out, the words were spoken, and destiny was apparently taking control.

He found himself at the edge of the cave and hesitated before going inside. The feeling of being summoned was strong within him and yet he was afraid and he was angry and he was sad.

The women stood tall and straight before him.

“Emrys,” said one.

“You have spoken,” said another.

“This could change it all,” said the third.

“Why does the Goddess judge Arthur now?” Merlin asked, feeling rather defiant. “He does not hunt and persecute, but judges wisely and fairly.”

“The blood of the people of the Goddess runs freely,” said one.

“This is his legacy,” said another.

“All debts must be paid in time. All judgments come true,” said the third.

“We offer the only chance,” said the first.

“Heed the warnings, Emrys,” said the second.

“You, too, are under the view of the Goddess,” said the third.

“But you know Mordred will kill him,” said Merlin desperately.

“Perhaps,” said one.

“Of course,” said another.

“Will he?” asked the third.

“With all due respect,” said Merlin, trying to keep himself under control. “This is an unfair judgment and my opinion comes with both the bias of magic in my blood and loyalty to Arthur as my destiny. Give him the time he needs.”

“Now is the time,” said one.

“He has all he needs,” said another.

“Do not keep him back when you wish to propel him forward,” said the third.

“The Goddess decides,” said all three.

Merlin was quiet and they did not speak again. He was speaking out of his own emotions and he did not want to trespass upon their good will any longer. He may be Emrys, but the Goddess was speaking through them and there were things even he could not defeat, things he did not want to be tested against.

He wandered, feeling once again the pure energy and life of the woods around him. It was a peaceful reminder that perhaps good would come of his confession. Yet it was long before he returned to Arthur, not wanting to intrude or come too soon.

He walked loudly to identify his presence in the camp. Arthur was still sitting, staring at a much lower fire.

Merlin sat down on the other side of it, poking a log in, letting the sparks fly upward.

“I thought about leaving you here,” Arthur said finally. “But I must see the Disir.”

“Oh?” Merlin asked.

Instead of answering, Arthur made a demand.

“Before I can decide anything I must have all the facts. Though your words are lies, I must rely on them. You are to tell me everything of magic, of the last ten years of our lives, and you are to pray to your Goddess I do not break you in half by the end.”

“It will take more time than the dawn allows us,” Merlin said.

“Then choose your words wisely,” said Arthur.

Merlin nodded and began.

He spoke of many things, of his childhood, of his mother’s decision to send him to Gaius, of his meeting with Kilgharrah, of the first time he saved Arthur, the prophecy concerning them. He spoke of his father and his kinship with the dragons. He spoke of Mordred and their first meeting. He spoke of Nimueh, he spoke of saving Gwen’s father, he spoke of Morgause, he spoke of Agravaine, he spoke of Lancelot, he spoke of the sword, he spoke of Freya. He spoke so many many things and all of them true, yet he did not tell all. He would, but now was not the time to speak of poisoning Morgana or the many other myriad mistakes Merlin had made. He would not hide the truth, but he would give Arthur facts to help him regarding magic. Magic and not Merlin. Arthur’s destiny and not Mordred.

Arthur interrupted occasionally, but he listened better than Merlin would ever have dreamed possible. It was very freeing, but incredibly painful and Merlin felt wave after wave of memory wash over him, bringing tears and laughter.

The sun rose as Merlin spoke of the prophecy of Arthur’s Bane.

His voice was raspy and his throat hurt, but he spoke as clearly as he could.

“Enough,” Arthur said, his own voice hard and yet emotional. “We have no more time.”

“Then do you know your decision?” Merlin asked.

Arthur did not answer him but strode from the clearing. Merlin sighed and followed.

They walked into the cave and Arthur almost flung his sword down before entering.

“You have returned,” said the first Disir.

“Is your decision made?” asked another.

“It is,” Arthur said slowly. “I do not know if I can do what you ask.”

“Consider carefully, Arthur Pendragon,” said the same Disir.

“This is your last chance to save all that is dear to you,” said the third.

“It will not come again,” said the first.

“I have seen too much,” said Arthur, “to arbitrarily allow sorcery again within Camelot. Cannot the Goddess understand that I need time to learn for myself before I retract our laws?”

Merlin held his breath.

“All does not happen at once,” said the first.

“The Goddess does not live in time,” said the second.

“Will you pledge to learn the ways of the Old Religion?” asked the third.

“I will,” said Arthur. “That I pledge.”

“Can you do so with Emrys at your side?” asked the third.

Arthur glanced at Merlin and Merlin was pained to see the hurt in the other man’s eyes.

“It does not appear I have much choice in the matter,” he finally replied.

“Emrys, stand forward,” said the first.

Merlin faced them.

“A life hangs in the balance,” said the second.

“A destiny intertwined,” said the first.

“You shall decide that fate,” said the third.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Merlin said.

“Arthur Pendragon has made his decision,” said the third.

“Merlin Emrys shall make his,” said the second.

“Your words will raise the knight or let him die,” said the first.

Merlin stared, horrified.

“I cannot make that decision,” he burst out. “I have already condemned him to die, how can he live if Arthur is to survive?”

“Arthur Pendragon,” said the first Disir, ignoring him. “You have made your decision.”

“Sealed your fate,” said the second.

“And that of your kingdom,” said the third.

“Farewell, Arthur Pendragon,” they said together.

Arthur bowed his head to them and turned to leave the cave. Merlin also nodded his head and they all nodded back to him. Then he followed Arthur.

The walk was silent as Merlin tried to figure out if he was terrified or if he was elated. So much had happened in the last twenty four hours, for good or for ill. He desperately needed sleep but he doubted Arthur would give him that.

He silently packed up the camp, almost missing how narrowly Arthur observed him behaving as he normally would upon a departure.

“You have seen my decision,” said Arthur. “What is yours?”

He spoke formally, almost coldly.

Merlin wanted to laugh.

“Well, Sire,” he said, “it appears no matter which path I choose, I will harm someone.”

“Yes, you will,” said Arthur.

“What is your command?” Merlin asked. “I have wronged you. The choice should be yours.”

“How convenient,” said Arthur. “You already know my wishes. You shall make your own mind.”

Merlin lapsed into silence as they rode and he thought long and hard. It appeared that the future was moving forward. At least Arthur had not tried to kill him and he had pledged his open mindedness to the Goddess. Unbidden, Morgana’s choking and desperate face rose to mind and Merlin blanched at the thought.

They rode in silence to Camelot and as they reached the borders, Merlin took a deep breath and spoke loudly.

“Mordred lives.”

There was a palpable tension he felt thrumming in his very veins and he knew what he had spoken would change the lives of everyone in Camelot.

“Thank you,” Arthur said softly.

“And what of everything else?” Merlin asked.

Arthur sighed.

“Honestly, Merlin, only you would reveal an immense secret such as this and then expect everything to be wrapped up neatly. I don’t know. I will learn and I will decide and you will help me and you will tell me the truth and all the rest you have kept back this night. We’ll work the rest out as we go.”

Merlin almost smiled. He could handle that. He absolutely could handle that. In fact, it was far better than anything else he’d imagined. He’d imagined Arthur’s reactions many times. Right now the bristling frustration rolling off the man next to him was almost comforting in its familiarity. Merlin knew how to deal with an irritated Arthur.

“Okay then, race you back?” he said.

Arthur glared at him.

“Merlin, this is not over. You have betrayed me.”

Merlin’s good feelings faded.

“I know,” he said.

“You have treated me like a fool and not your king. Worse, you have not trusted me and have made a lie of our…friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, as it was all he could say.

“And you completely ignore the fact you couldn’t beat me in a race with all your powers of sorcery,” said Arthur and kicked his horse into a full gallop.

Merlin stared for a moment and then began racing after him.

They reached Camelot almost neck to neck, but Arthur pulled ahead. Merlin ignored the fact he could have used magic to win and simply breathed hard.

Arthur dismounted and looked solemnly up to the steps of the castle. Merlin followed his gaze. Mordred stood there, evidently well healed. Merlin could not keep his heart from sinking. Still, Arthur did know now.

Arthur slowly smiled and walked over to Mordred, clasping his hand.

Mordred smiled back, pure joy in his face.

Merlin was past regrets as he watched them. Merlin was facing a future both filled with hope and tinged with dread. It was not an unfamiliar feeling.

“Here I go,” he muttered, following after Arthur.