Merlin Fanfiction: Love As Thou Wilt | Part 10
Part 10
The descent into the valley is tense, everyone watching D’Alene and his men. But he keeps his word and no move is made against them. The moment the entire army is in the valley, Pellinore starts sending out orders, orders to start making camp and to start rationing food off to D’Alene’s men.
Valiant stands off to the side and for a moment; his eyes are on Merlin and Arthur. He smirks and turns and leaves. “If we didn’t need him, I’d kill him where he stands,” Arthur says darkly, watching Valiant’s retreating form. “Why are you so willing to trust him?” Arthur asks, turning to look at Merlin.
“He was a hero once. No matter what he is now, he knows the feeling and even though he won’t live, he’d rather die a hero,” Merlin says softly.
“Why is Nimueh doing this?” Arthur asks silently. “She could have gotten Camelot with him.”
Merlin shakes his head. “The Picts would have still invaded. No Nimueh plays this game for high stakes. Why gain one kingdom when she could get an empire. Either way, she would gain, no matter who wins,” Merlin says, rubbing at his eyes in weariness.
“How could she willingly do this? She’ll have blood on her hands and she doesn’t even blink,” Arthur says softly.
“I don’t know,” Merlin says. They follow Pellinore through the camp as they ready to meet. They talk well into the night, discussing strategy and tactics. Merlin is there to translate, but eventually, they finish discussing everything. Merlin is exhausted from the walk to the valley and his use of magic. When the meeting breaks up, he and Arthur find their tent and collapse for a few hours’ sleep.
When they rise, it is late afternoon and the camp is alive with activity. With a strategy, they are making ready to march. While they had slept, men had been sent to get their horses and the rest of their men who had guarded them.
Dawn is a quiet affair as they file man, horse and pack mule back out of the valley. On his horse back on top of the valley, Merlin watches and feels uneasy, like he’s missed something. Something important and can’t recall what just yet.
Merlin rides silently beside Arthur back through the mountains, the feeling not letting up. As they reach the hill lands again, Merlin can’t stop from feeling hopefully. They’re finally going to do something and not run. He may be about to go to his death, but at least he will have done something to try and save his home.
~*~
The night before they are to attack, Merlin sits on the outskirts of the camp, staring up at the sky. Silently, he prays to the Balance, prays that they’ll survive, that they’ll make a difference, for guidance on what he should do.
Merlin gasps as he feels magic swirl around him and his vision goes gold. An image appears before him. It shows him with a scale in his hand.
You will know…
Just as quickly as the magic appeared, it’s gone and Merlin falls over, gasping for breath. Looking around, Merlin sees that he is still alone. No one had noticed him. Shaking himself, Merlin gets up on shaky legs and looks for Pellinore.
They’re on the other side of the camp looking out at Arrœk’s army. They can see Fæstenn from here. Arrœk’s army surrounds it. The defenses around the main wall are gone, unable to stop the overwhelming numbers. The siege towers stand around the walls, of the four that they can see, two are charred husks. Of the other two, only one seems stable enough to be used against the people in the fortress it is just out of range of the archer’s bows.
“We can only hope that those in the fortress will recognize us and know to attack as well,” Pellinore says softly, eyes hard.
“They won’t once they see the D’Alene snakes,” Valiant says with a hint of morbid humor.
“My son is not stupid. When he sees the Frumgar’s Red Hart, he will know it is us,” Pellinore says.
“Will they even be able to see it from a distance such as this?” Valiant asks, eyeing the commander. Pellinore doesn’t say anything, the two men lost in thought.
Merlin stares out at the enemy camp and feels his heart skip a beat. From here, it’s hard to make out, but Merlin can see them: the slaves, women and men, all taken when the Picts had raided towns and villages between here and the mountains.
Merlin watches them silently, unable to look away as his own memories play back through his mind. He can feel Valiant’s gaze on him, but he ignores the man. Nothing he can say will ever change what has happened to him.
~*~
Merlin wakes sweating to darkness in his tent. Beside him, Arthur is dead to the world, sleeping peacefully, or as peacefully as one can sleep before battle. Aithusa is curled next to him, asleep as well. Merlin can feel it though, the rise of magic, pressing down on him.
Now…
He hears it clearly. Slipping silently from under his blankets, Merlin leaves the two to continue sleeping. Out in the camp, it is cool, the moon slowly rising into the sky. Before Merlin had lived with Kilgharrah, he had lived in the Court who taught their people how to move unobserved, invisible, silently.
He knows Arthur will hate him for this, but it needs to be done. It’s not hard to travel the length of the camp to where Valiant has set his tent. The man comes awake the moment Merlin kneels beside his bedroll, eyes shining in the dim light, trained straight into Merlin’s.
“What do you want?” he asks softly.
Merlin stays silent for a moment before answering, “They will be ready for the attack.”
“You’ll be captured or killed,” Valiant says, sitting up to look at Merlin.
“Not before I can deliver my message,” Merlin says. “The camp is full of slaves. None will notice me until it is too late. Morgana will know we are here.”
“You little idiot, Arrœk will make you talk and you’ll give us away,” he hisses.
Merlin smiles sadly, “No, my lord. I will not.” He must see the light reflecting off of the golden specks in Merlin’s eyes because he frowns, Merlin just able to make it out in the light.
“Why have you come to me?” he asks eventually.
“Because, my lord, you are the only one who will not stop me,” Merlin says. “I just need help past the sentries. I can save so many lives with this. You had your choice of death, at least give me mine.”
Merlin waits silently, holding his breath. Finally, Valiant nods, getting up to get dressed. It takes little time for Merlin and Valiant to leave the tent. Merlin trails behind the man, waiting until he has one of the sentries distracted.
Pulling his magic around him like a cloak, Merlin slips by them unnoticed, a shadow amongst the shadows. It is not easy going by day and at night; it is even harder to remain silent. Merlin freezes every time he hears a sound. His heart has been beating fast and hard the whole way to the enemy camp, but eventually, he makes the camp unnoticed.
It takes some wiggling to get through the bulwark built up around the camp and for a second, something snags on the rough wood. Merlin freezes as cloth tears and he waits with baited breath, but none stir to check out the sound.
Pulling gently, the cloth of his sleeve rips, leaving a small bit of it behind. Unfazed, Merlin jumps down on silent feet behind enemy lines. Between him and the wall lies thousands of Picts. Gulping softly, Merlin starts to make his way, using his magic as sparingly as possible.
The outer most camps are easy to slip by, following the dividing lines between clans and tribes, knowing where to walk to go unnoticed through the slumbering men. Some of them are awake though, but what do they see, a young Alban, dirty and shivering in fear. Merlin angles his path towards the slave pens, hoping they’ll think he is returning to them. They do, thankfully, none stopping him.
Merlin’s luck runs out though as he trips over an unseen spear thrown across the path, sending him falling to his hands and knees and sending a spear clattering to the ground. The Pict that they belonged to stirs, looking up at him. “Where are you off to, little one?” he asks in Pictish. “Come here,” he says again, holding out his arm.
Merlin freezes and looks down at the face of a young slave woman. They seem to speak silently because she turns over, murmuring nonsense, pulling the Pict closer. The man doesn’t understand her, but he knows her intent and he laughs, pulling her closer. Merlin, heart in his throat, waits silently, but the Pict seems to have forgotten his presence completely.
Merlin sends a silent prayer for the woman’s safety and keeps going. He comes upon one of the burnt out siege towers, it’s upper half leaning against the wall. Clenching his hands into fists hard, Merlin squares his shoulders and starts to climb.
He ignores the pain of splinted driving under his skin and keeps climbing. He goes up and up and eventually, he is high enough to look into one of the narrow window slits in the wall. Clutching the burnt wood tightly, Merlin breaks off a piece and quickly tosses it into the window, hoping that it is manned.
There is a flicker of light and then Merlin is blinded temporarily by a torch and just makes out a crossbow being aimed at him. “Hold!” he yells out to the soldier. “In the name of the Queen hold!”
A shout goes up as the Picts awake at his voice, stirring and starting to swarm the base of the tower. Turning to the soldier, Merlin reacts quickly, “Tell the Queen, tell Morgana that Kilgharrah’s other pupil has done her bidding!”
That’s all Merlin can get out before there are hands on him, pulling him back and down. He holds on for a moment waiting for the soldier to nod. When he does, Merlin lets his hold go and falls back, his fall only being stopped by the Picts dragging him down.
Merlin is thrown to the ground in a ring of Picts. “What are you doing? Did you think you could gain the castle, slave?” One of them yells. “He can’t understand you,” Another says.
A hush falls around them as the wall of Picts opens up and someone walks through. “Oh, I think he understands you perfectly. Don’t you, Merlin?” Arrœk asks softly, crouching down in front of Merlin.
Merlin nods slowly, not looking up, “Yes.” Arrœk uses a finger to lift his chin and then slaps him hard across the face, sending Merlin to the floor, his head ringing with the blow and blood dripping from a split lip.
Arrœk grabs him by the hair, hauling him up. “I owe you that much, little whore. Now tell me, why were you on that tower?” Merlin stares at him and keeps quiet. Arrœk shakes his fist, jerking Merlin’s head. “I’ll ask again, why were you on that tower?” Merlin just licks the blood off of his lip and remains silent.
“He shouted something,” one of Arrœk’s men says.
“What was it?” he demands. The men argue over what Merlin had said, stumbling over the words, tongue thick in their mouths. “Send for one of the slaves,” Arrœk roars out and they scramble to do just that.
It’s grim irony that the woman they bring forward is the one who saved him from detection before. They tell the woman haltingly what they heard. “Tell the Queen, tell Morgana that Kilgharrah’s other pupil has done her bidding,” the woman says calmly.
Arrœk smirks and sends the woman back to the slave pens. “This will be easier on you if you just tell me. If you cooperate, I can grant you a quick, clean death, Merlin. If you speak,” Arrœk whispers to Merlin.
Merlin can’t stop it as a laugh bubbles up inside his chest, escaping his throat. “My lord, I’d rather take the other choice,” Merlin says easily.
“Then you will have it. Let your Queen see how I treat her spies,” Arrœk says. He throws Merlin to two of his men who grab him by his arms, forcing him to his knees, head bowed. There’s a moment of quiet and then the back of Merlin’s shirt is ripped open to the cool air. Merlin shivers slightly, realizing just what is about to happen.
“Morgana de la Pendragon, see what happens to your spies,” Arrœk yells out. Merlin holds his breath as the sound of a dagger being drawn reaches his ears. Merlin struggles, trying to pull free but the Picts hold his arms securely as Arrœk begins to cut into his back, slowly skinning Merlin alive.
Merlin screams, he knows he does as Arrœk slowly peels his skin from his back, but then his vision his hazing over with gold and though his body still screams, his mind has gone elsewhere. Merlin isn’t sure how much time passes in this way.
Then suddenly, Arrœk stops and Merlin is back in his own body, shivering in shock, his back on fire and tears running down his face. He can feel blood running down his sides, soaking into his clothing, but all of it is forgotten at the voice ringing out, “Arrœk, I challenge you to an Anwig!”
Merlin is let go and he falls to the ground limp. Turning his head, Merlin can just see Arthur, his hair shining golden in the torchlight. His sword is unsheathed and his eyes blaze in rage. “No,” Merlin croaks out, hand inching along trying in vain to tell Arthur to leave, to not sacrifice himself for Merlin.
Merlin is ignored except for a brief flick of Arthur’s eyes towards him. “Very well, Arthur. Let us Anwig and let your Queen and all of the five kingdoms see as I defeat her champion,” Arrœk says with glee.
Arthur just stands there, composed in his travel stained clothing. Underneath his tunic, Merlin can see his chainmail peeking out, glinting in the light. The two are circled until there is a wall of Picts around them. Merlin is hauled to his knees with a gasp and now he can see everything.
Merlin can’t keep up, no matter how he tries. They are too fast and he is still befuddled from whatever his magic had done to allow him to endure the pain. All he can see is swords flashing in the light, metal striking metal. There are yells all around them, thousands of Picts watching, yelling, and beating their spears on shields.
For a second, Arthur staggers and Merlin holds his breath, waiting to see what happens as Arrœk attack. The knight dodges, barely avoiding the blow. Coming out of a roll, he attacks again and Merlin breaths again. There is the screech of metal on metal and then as cry goes up. Arrœk’s blood falls to the ground. The Anwig is done, Arthur has won.
In the silence, Arthur sheaths his sword, waiting to see how this will play out. Arrœk laughs, long and hard. “For that, I will let you live long enough to see him die,” Arrœk says, advancing again.
Merlin sees the moment Arthur’s shoulders slump in despair. He turns to look at where Merlin is knelt on the ground. Their eyes meet and Merlin can see clearly what he is thinking as if the knight has spoken directly into his mind. Merlin just smiles and nods his head.
Unsheathing his sword again, Arthur reaches down and pulls out his boot dagger, hefting the blade in his hand. Turning, Arthur cocks his arm back, sword rising to his own throat: the last act of a protector for their ward when all is lost.
“Do it,” Merlin whispers.
Arthur lifts his arm up and freezes, looking over Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin looks to and his heart beats loudly in his chest. The portcullis is lowering and Merlin realizing what is about to happen, reaches for the reserves of power he has left and shoves, sending the Picts around him and Arthur flying to the ground.
Arthur is on him before he can even start to fall, grabbing his arm and pulling Merlin along. Merlin gasps in pain, but keeps going. The draw bridge comes down and they race towards it. Above them, fire rains down on the Picts following and Merlin looks up to see a group of people standing on the bridge, fire raining from their hands.
Two horsemen race out across the draw bridge. They draw up next to Merlin and Arthur. Merlin is hauled up without ceremony and thrown across the saddle, Arthur pulling himself up behind the other man. They ride back across the draw bridge, the sorcerers following and the drawbridge raising.
The horses draw up in the courtyard and people swarm around them. Merlin is gently pulled from the saddle and lowered to the ground. “Merlin!” someone yells out, frantic and Merlin looks up to see Gwen kneeling in front of him.
“Gwen?” Merlin asks, confused as to why his childhood friend is here. He would have said more, but his visions starts to go dark around the edges, his ears ringing hollowly. Merlin collapses to the ground, out cold.
~*~
Merlin comes to a few minutes later and can hear voices all around him. He looks up to see Gwen’s worried face, a man next to her in the black tunic of the Brotherhood. “Oh Merlin,” Gwen says softly, touching his cheek gently.
“Make way for the physician!” Someone yells out and suddenly Gaius is there, face grave as he looks Merlin over.
“Help me get him to my chamber,” Gaius says. There are hands under Merlin’s arms as they haul him to his feet. Arthur is on his right and the man that had been next to Gwen is on his left.
In Gaius’s rooms, they lower him to his stomach on a table and Gaius gets to work quickly cleaning the flesh of his back. Merlin feels cold and sick as he feels the stripped flesh being moved but he clamps his jaws together and grits through it. Gaius takes up a thread and needle and starts to sew.
“It’s not as bad as it could have been,” Gaius says and Merlin can only nod to the physician’s words. Merlin can hear other voices but they all hush as the doors open. Merlin can see Gwen curtsy out of the corner of his eye and he turns his head to see Morgana standing in the doorway flanked by her knight protector.
“Merlin nó Emrys,” she says simply.
“I would bow my lady, but I can’t at the moment,” Merlin whispers, voice hoarse and throat dry.
“Understandable. You say you have a message for me?” Morgana asks, coming forward as the door is shut behind her.
Merlin takes a breath and says evenly, “An army of over seven thousand is going to be attacking Arrœk’s rearguard tomorrow at dawn.”
“Seven thousand Hibernians?” someone asks and it takes Merlin a second to realize that there is someone else with Morgana. Persant de Dieu stands next to the Queen.
“No, they are only half. The other half belong to Valiant d’Alene,” Merlin says, wincing as Gaius pulls another stich closed.
“D’Alene!” Persant says, “And what idiot came up with that idea?”
“I did,” Merlin says simply, “And put into action by your father, the royal commander.”
“My father is with them?’ he asks, coming forward.
Merlin nods. “He came with us with half of his men and left Cenred to guard the eastern pass with Petit and the navy,” Merlin says.
“Why would D’Alene aid us?” Morgana asks.
Merlin winces again, “Because, he’s dead no matter what and I gave him the chance for a hero’s death.”
“You are so sure of him?” Persant asks.
“Yes, my lord. He wants revenge. He cares not for your favor, my lady. He wants only to beat Nimueh at her own game,” Merlin says.
“Very well. My lord, see to the troops and inform them of the plan. We attack at dawn. It is time we made our stand and showed these savages just who they are trying to defeat,” Morgana says with a gleam in her eyes.
Before he can say anything, someone hammers on the door. It opens to admit a red faced soldier. “Your highness, they’re tearing the tower down and using the timber to cross the moat,” he says with a sketchy bow.
“It seems your little stunt has angered him,” Persant says with a look at Merlin.
“We need to keep his eyes on us until dawn or else the plan will fall apart. Tell your men to let him get as close as we can before you drive him back. But above all else, keep his eyes on us,” Morgana orders.
“Of course, my Queen,” Persant says, bowing. He leaves quickly and the room is silent except for Merlin’s harsh breathing. With one last stitch, Gaius steps away from the table.
“There you are, my boy. I’ll bandage it up and give you something for the pain and then you should be fine,” Gaius says. True to his words, Merlin is bandaged and doused with a painkiller that works quickly. “I have others I must see to, but you are free to stay here for as long as you need.”
“I too must go. You did well, Merlin. Thank you,” Morgana says. Bowing his head, Merlin watched the two leave and the door shut.
“How are you feeling?” Gwen asks coming up to look at him where he had sat up.
“I’m all right, Gwen,” Merlin says. “What are you doing here?”
Gwen colors and looks at the other knight in the room. The man comes forward with a smile. “I’m Lancelot du Lac, Gwen’s protector,” he says.
Merlin looks between the two seeing the besotted look they bother wear. “Gwen?” Merlin asks, arching a brow. Gwen blushes and nods. “When?”
“It was soon after you had disappeared. Lancelot had come back to his family for a visit and we met and it just sort of happened. He is one of the knights that Morgana has been using to carry messages,” Gwen explains.
“Congratulations,” Merlin says with a grin.
“Come on, you can come to our rooms. You could use some rest after this,” Gwen says. Between Arthur and Lancelot, they keep Merlin from falling over as they traverse through stone corridors.
Merlin frowns and stops them just as they enter the courtyard. “Arthur, where’s Aithusa?”
“He was gone when I left. I haven’t seen him since,” Arthur says. As if his name is a beacon, there’s a screech overhead and a flash of white descends down on them. There are yells, soldiers taking aim at the little dragon.
“No!” Merlin yells, throwing his hands out to stop them.
Something clicks inside him and the world just stops for a split second. Merlin looks around, dazed before Aithusa comes barreling into his arms. The jolt of the impact knocks him over and the world is moving again.
From his place on the ground, Merlin holds the little dragon as it cries piteously, Aithusa rubbing his head on Merlin’s chest. “Shh, shh, I’m all right. I’m all right,” Merlin whispers to the dragon.
A shout goes up around them as men cry out “Dawn” to let everyone know. The dawn has come at last and their final stand is here. “We need to get somewhere high,” Merlin says. The other’s nod and they help Merlin over to the stairs.
~*~
They keep to the walls of the stairwell as soldiers come running up and down them in a rush to be ready. Eventually though, the four of them make it to the battlements on the eastern wall where they could see the battle.
Merlin shivers in the cool air of dawn and stares out over a sea of Picts. He still can’t believe he traversed that distance. It feels like a dream or nightmare. The Picts rush the wall still, breaking against the wall like a wave against the rocks only to be driven back by the archers.
“How much longer until attack?” Merlin hears Gwen ask.
“There’s no hope of not being seen by the Picts once they reach flat ground, but it should still be enough for them to get close. Arrœk will attack them and then Morgana will attack from behind. At most an hour from now,” Lancelot says.
“Merlin,” someone calls from behind them.
Turning, Merlin can only stare at the image of Dame Fors in front of him. There are four others behind her, two men and two women. The other heads of the Moonlight Court branches. Merlin had completely forgotten about their involvement.
“Dame Fors,” he says back softly, bowing his head.
“Will you be joining us in this battle?” Dinas Seneschal, head of the Wind Court, asks.
Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t know battle magic and my reserves are already low,” Merlin says softly.
Aithusa chirps at him, lifting his head up to look at the new arrivals. There’s a collective gasp as they stare at the little dragon. “It seems much more has happened to you then you first let on, warlock,” Dame Fors says with an arched brow.
Merlin flushes a little and nods. “Be safe, young warlock. I wish to have a nice long chat once this is over,” Dame Fors says. She nods to Arthur and then Gwen and Lancelot before she and the other heads head further down the wall.
“We should get off the wall,” Arthur says softly.
Merlin shakes his head, “No, history is being made below and with it change. They say a warlock is a sign of change, so I will remain here to see it through.”
“You’re an idiot, you know that right?” Arthur says with a glare at Merlin.
Merlin just smiles and nods. Sighing, Arthur turns back to view the soon to be battle field. They wait there, breaths steaming in the cool air and watch the horizon, searching for the Hibernians and Alban army.
“Look!” Gwen cries and they can see it: a line of silver advancing slowly from behind the Pictish army. “They made it.”
Although they had stopped any Pictish scouting parties from giving them away, they can’t hide form from Arrœk’s army forever. The rear scouts shout a warning to their comrades and as one, the sea of bodies seems to shift. In the center of it all, Arrœk turns his mount and surveys the oncoming army.
They wait with baited breath, watching as the distance between them closes. The two armies clash like two living things, the roars and clang of metal just reaching their position on the wall. Although the forces are disorganized, there are so many of them it doesn’t matter.
And even though there attention is drawn, Arrœk isn’t stupid. He yells out orders, leaving enough men to keep their forces penned in the fortress. The first wave of Picts finish breaking against the army and the next comes howling at them.
But although they are undisciplined and fierce, they cannot stand up to the skill of D’Alene’s men as they steadily march forward, swords flashing bloody red in the light of the slowly rising sun. Gwen gasps and Merlin looks to see where she is looking. From the south comes Driant’s army.
They stream over the hills, their war chants heard even over the Pictish roaring. They descend on Arrœk’s unsuspecting right flank, tearing a bloody swath through the enemy. And in the middle of it all, Merlin can see Driant and the Twins.
Merlin turns back towards the Alban forces in time to see them hunker down behind their shields, holding their line despite the overwhelming numbers against them. They open up and Merlin can only stare as from between the two sides, D’Alene’s Calvary comes charging forward. Decked out in armor, even the horses; they make a wedge, forcing their way through the Pictish ranks straight for the center, for Arrœk.
There’s a flash of light as the forces keeping them penned race towards their fellow warriors to fight against D’Alene’s forces. Merlin hears the portcullis rise and the draw bridge lower and the soldier that had been pinned in the fortress come streaming out to fall upon the Picts from behind.
Penned in from three sides, the Picts fight against their enemies and for a second, it seems they are about to over run them. And then the first ball of fire rains down on the Picts and Merlin looks to see the Court heads spaced out along the wall.
The Picts see the sorcerers and Merlin can see the fear in their eyes, even from here. They are a superstitious people and the sight of magic is something that goes against their beliefs. As the Picts begin to break ranks, Arrœk roars his fury and turns his mount, heading straight for where Valiant is, the man heading straight for Arrœk.
They clash together like two forces of nature. Around them, a bubble has formed as they fight. Merlin is too far away to see clearly, but he can see enough to know they are nearly evenly matched. But eventually, one has to go down.
Valiant gives the final blow and Merlin watches as Arrœk falls down to one knee. Valiant brings his sword down, finding a gap in Arrœk’s armor and drives it home. Arrœk dies there on the battlefield, eyes staring straight up at the sky as the sun slowly rose higher.
And then Valiant is there next to him, falling to his knees as he succumbs to his wounds. He had turned his back on his country on the five nations, betraying them and yet he had died a hero’s death, saving the one thing he had betrayed. It seems fitting.
~*~
After that, it is almost too easy. With their leader down, the lines Merlin had traveled so easily tear and the Pictish army breaks apart, clans and tribes, even steadings, leaving, running back for their mountains.
The four of them had started to descend the stairs to go back down to the courtyard. They hear screams just as they descend to the floor just above the courtyard. Looking down, Merlin pales. A group of Picts had somehow gotten into the fortress in a desperate attempt to inflict damage.
Merlin yells out and he feels his magic swell, feels magic from around him, pressing down, feeling the Balance with him. He isn’t sure what he does, but the Picts are sent flying back out through the main gate, the soldiers that had been running to help falling on them.
There is deathly quiet as everyone stares at him. Merlin is too busy trying to keep his shaking knees from giving out to notice it. He does notice when the word “Dragonlord” is whispered. Looking up, Merlin looks at where Aithusa is resting on his shoulder, blue eyes shining bright with magic.
“Thank you,” Merlin says softly to the dragon, petting the dragon. Aithusa just chirps and them Merlin is letting Arthur lower him to the ground so that he doesn’t fall over.
~*~
The rest of the day is spent cleaning up. Half of the army is sent after the fleeing Picts, to make sure they don’t decide to pillage and more villages or towns on the way back to their mountains. Workers go amongst the fallen, searching for any wounded still alive, giving out water, killing any Picts still alive.
It’s a messy job, but it needs to be done. Gaius and his staff are kept busy seeing to all the wounded. Merlin tries to go out to the battle field and help, but between Gwen and Arthur, they herd him to a bed and he hadn’t realized he was so tired until they got him under a blanket.
Merlin wakes up to darkness, torches blazing throughout the fortress. Getting up with a wince, body stiff, Merlin makes it out of the room. Aithusa flies behind him, chirping softly. Only Gwen is in the other room and she smiles when she see his come out of the bedroom.
“You look better,” she says.
“Thanks,” Merlin croaks. He nods in thanks when she hands him a goblet of water, drinking it down quickly. Finished, they both leave to search out their knight protectors to help with whatever needs to be done.
It takes days for everything to be seen to. Blame and punishment are given out and though it makes Merlin uneasy, he is willing to be an advisor to Morgana when it comes to the captured Picts. For the most part though, plans are made to see to the restoration of all the villages and towns destroyed by the Picts.
There is also a royal wedding to be planned. Morgana and Driant meet on the draw bridge and he kisses her with the shouts of approval from both armies. Merlin stands with Arthur as they watch and is glad that some good could come from this.
With the army being broken up, things slowly return to some normalcy. Merlin spends some time in the hospital wards with Gaius and the other healers, offering his magic to help where ever he can. Arthur always comes for him when the sun starts to goes down below the horizon; sometimes having to literally drag Merlin out, the warlock is so tired.
Arthur doesn’t say anything, but he knows the knight understands. They haven’t talked about what it is between them, not having the time with everything happening. Maybe soon, they will, but for now, Merlin is content with not saying anything.
~*~
It is a week after that final battle that one of Morgana’s pages comes for Merlin in the hospital ward. Frowning as the boy gives Morgana’s summons, Merlin follows him back into the main part of the fortress. Morgana meets him in one of the corridors, Arthur trailing behind her.
They can see the Courtyard down below. As they watch, the gates open and Duc Mordred de Porte rides through, flanked by his own soldiers and what appears to be a few L’Isle kinsmen. Merlin can only stare as he finally see who they have riding between them.
Nimueh de l’Isle is calm as she dismounts. She doesn’t even glance there way as guards lead her from the courtyard. Merlin feels numb, his throat working but no sound coming out. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” Morgana says softly. “If I could do the trial without you, I would.”
Finally, Merlin gets his tongue to work. “I know my lady,” he whispers back. Arthur just stands behind him, a hand on his shoulder.
~*~
The trial is held in the makeshift throne room that Morgana has had made. The entire council is there, including the other kings who had fought in the battle. Even Cenred is there, stripped of his titles as he is. He has as much stake in Nimueh’s conviction as anyone else.
Merlin is brought to the room before Nimueh and is placed in a small notch, hidden away from sight until he is needed. Merlin hears the door open and the tramp of soldier’s boots as they escort Nimueh into the room.
“Lady Nimueh de l’Isle, you stand before us accused of treason. How do you plead?” Morgana asks, voice cool and even. Merlin can just see her profile from his hiding place and her face is expressionless as she stares at the sorceress.
“Your majesty, I have always served Camelot. Duc de Porte makes groundless accusations. Where was he during this battle when every man was needed? Yes, I refute this accusation and demand he show his proof if he wishes to charge me.”
“You are also charged with conspiring with Selises Arrœk of the Picts,” Morgana says.
Nimueh is silent for a long moment, taken by surprise. Mordred had kept her in the dark about everything that had happened. He had found the chink in her armor. Finally, Nimueh speaks. “Does the Duc have proof? There is nothing that the dead can say against me, so let him come forth with his proof.”
“It is not the Duc who makes such a claim,” Morgana says simply.
“Then by my right, I wish to face my accuser,” Nimueh says simply.
Merlin knows his cue even before Morgana waves her hand to bring him forward. Squaring his shoulder, Merlin steps forward from his hiding place to stare down at Nimueh, “I am your accuser.” Merlin can feel Arthur close by, can feel his gaze on him and he takes strength from it.
Merlin starts when Arthur comes beside him, hand out. Looking down, Merlin takes the collar of woven wire and Merlin feels something inside him let loose, a knot coming undone that he hadn’t noticed before. Turning, Merlin grips it in his hand hard and then flings it to the ground at Nimueh’s feet. “That is yours, my lady,” Merlin hisses.
Nimueh is pale as she stares up at Merlin. She takes a breath and Merlin can see her mind working, looking for a way out of this. And then she laughs softly. “That old dragon plays an incredible endgame, even after his death. Persant knew of the invasion. He was ready. Your doing?” Nimueh asks, looking at Merlin.
Merlin nods. “I saw the letter in your own handwriting to Arrœk,” Merlin says softly. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
“I had thought leaving you your knight would be a bit much, but sentiment and all that,” Nimueh says simply.
“Do you refute the charges?” Morgana asks, breaking off Nimueh’s speech.
“You have proof, I assume?” Nimueh asks. Morgana nods but doesn’t say what the proof is. Nimueh nods, “I thought as much. I have no more to say.”
Morgana nods coldly. “You execution will be at dawn.” No one speaks against the verdict. Nimueh is escorted back out of the room. The moment the door closes, Merlin sags, heart still beating in his throat.
“It’s over Merlin, it’s over,” Arthur says, holding the warlock up.
“I know,” Merlin says simply.
~*~
Merlin spends the rest of the day with the healers, seeing to those wounded in the battle. Although it didn’t keep his mind from swirling with emotions, it helped keep his hands busy and that was all he could hope to do. Arthur leaves him alone for the most part, only coming to collect him as the sun sinks.
The messenger comes for Merlin in the late hours of the night. Merlin is still awake, unable to find comfort in sleep. He bears Nimueh’s last request, to speak with Merlin. Merlin hesitates, wondering if he should or not.
Finally, Merlin nods and pulling on a warm cloak, Merlin follows the man down into the lower levels of the fortress. Nimueh has been given a small room to herself, a final kindness for the woman who will die in the morning.
Merlin can see the spells written into the walls. No magic can be used in the room. There is no way Nimueh can escape. Nimueh is waiting in a chair, watching him as he enters, shutting the door behind him.
“I didn’t think you would come,” she admits.
“What do you want?” Merlin asks, trying to keep his face expressionless.
“To see you one last time before I die,” Nimueh says with a small smile.
“I doubt that,” Merlin says.
“Do you hate me so much?” Nimueh asks softly.
“Yes,” Merlin hisses, letting some of his anger show through.
“It was a long shot, but I had hoped you wouldn’t. But what else can I do but play the hand I’ve been given. Maybe it would have been different if I had gotten to you before Kilgharrah. Who’s to say,” Nimueh says softly. “I underestimated you.”
“What did Arrœk promise you?” Merlin asks.
Nimueh smiles, “Half an empire.”
“Why?” Merlin asks, the confusion evident in his voice. That question has nagged at the back of his mind this whole terrible journey.
“Because I could,” she says simply.
Merlin shudders at her words. “You should go now,” Nimueh says simply and Merlin staggers away and to the door, knocking on it and waiting for the guards to let him out.
“Are you all right?” one of them asks, taking in Merlin’s stricken expression. Merlin simply nods and walks away, his emotions and thought tied up into even bigger knots than they had been before Nimueh had asked for his presence.
~*~
Merlin spends the night atop the battlements, staring out across the vast landscape spread out around the fortress. Arthur finds him there a few hours before dawn. He doesn’t say anything, but Merlin can feel his gaze boring into Merlin’s back.
“You went to see her,” Arthur says. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin says softly. “Validation, closure, something…anything...”
“Did you find it?” Arthur asks, coming to stand next to him. Ahead to the east, the sky is already starting to lighten.
“I don’t know,” Merlin says softly, looking at the knight. Arthur just sighs and pulls him into a hug, holding the trembling warlock.
They stand there for a while and the sky lightens around them. Soon, it will be over. Except that the sound of running feet and clanking armor comes to them up on the wall. Frowning, Arthur looks around and spots one of the sentries on the wall. “What is it?” he asks the man.
“They were supposed to execute Lady Nimueh at dawn. They found the room empty and the two guards dead in front of the door. They also found the gatekeeper on the southern gate dead as well,” he says and runs off to go talk with someone else.
Merlin can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his throat or the blood draining from his face. Pressing back against the wall, Merlin slides down it and buries his face in his arms.
~*~
Merlin is brought before Morgana for questioning. Morgana is questioning everyone, not just Merlin, but he already knows why she has called him. Merlin stands before her throne feeling wearier than ever.
“She sent for you last night,” Morgana says. “And you went. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin says. “Maybe I owed her that much. She spared my life once. Though I did not. That was all I owed her.”
“Is that all?” Morgana asks.
“That is all. Her execution rested on my word. If I had wanted to save her, all I would have needed to do was remain silent,” Merlin says.
“I’m sorry Merlin. You must understand, with Nimueh still out there, my throne and kingdom, every kingdom, will never be truly safe,” Morgana says softly.
“I know,” Merlin says. Morgana dismisses him and Merlin leaves.
~*~
The world goes on and time passes. Summer deepens and is soon starting to shift into autumn when they leave Fæstenn finally. Soon, the harvest will be ready to bring in and life will continue. The Hibernians ride with them, waiting for the wedding that will open up the straights for them.
Eventually though, they come to Camelot, cresting the hill to see the city sprawled across the land, the castle gleaming white in the sunshine. Home. They ride in procession through Camelot, the people shouting and cheering their arrival.
Merlin remembers a similar procession, so long ago. They had been alive then, Kilgharrah and Freya. He remembers it was the night she had her virgin price auctioned off. God, he misses them. Arthur doesn’t say anything as tears slide down his face. He’s not sure if they’re from the happiness of everything being over or from the memory of a childhood long gone.
With war and sickness to ravish the ranks of Camelot, there is room for everyone. Merlin, no longer with a home, is given room in the castle. He is still needed to translate.
Merlin wants to cry when he finds Alice waiting for him in his room. He had already seen Gaius, but Alice was his first true teacher, his confidant, and friend. Pulling her close, he hugs her, feeling tears in his eyes. Hearing a cough, Merlin looks up at Juliana, the Queen’s poet. Smiling at the woman, he goes and hugs her as well. He is finally home.
~*~
The wedding is a long drawn out affair. After so much death and sorrow, it is understandable that the people would want something happy to celebrate. It last three days, though the actual wedding barely takes an hour to complete so that Morgana and Driant are wed finally.
Merlin enjoys every minute of it. He has been through so much, but with each laugh and each friend reunited with him, he feels a little lighter. Arthur enjoys it right along with him. He even introduces Merlin to some of his knight friends, each of them bigger than the last and Merlin can only stare in awe of the bear-like man that is Percival.
But still, no matter how much fun he has and how many new people he meets, there is still one person missing. His heart squeezes a little every time he thinks of Gwaine stuck on that island. He would have loved this wedding. He would have been drunk off his ass after the first hour of celebrating.
Still, Merlin has already vowed to not stop until he finds a way to free his friend. Even if he has to go against the Old Religion itself, he won’t stop until he finds the key to Gwaine’s freedom. Arthur looks at him and knows Merlin’s resolve. He’s already pledged to help Merlin no matter what, so there is nothing left to say on the matter.
It is the week after Morgana’s wedding when Merlin is summoned to the Queen’s drawing room. When he enters, he sees an older man seated on a chair, a couple of scroll set off to the side. “Ah, Merlin, there you are. You remember Geoffrey de Monmouth, the royal archivist?” Merlin could recall seeing him a few times. He nodded. “He has some business with you.” Nodding to the man, Morgana sits down opposite of Merlin.
Geoffrey puts his glasses on and pulls one of the scrolls closer, unfurling it with ease of much practice. “Ah…in the matter of Kilgharrah’s estates…the house in the city with everything inside it was purchased by the royal household to be resold at a later date. It has yet to be sold as of this current date. I can start the proceedings for you to reclaim it or you may of course sell it and keep the money, it is your choice,” Geoffrey says.
“What?” Merlin asks, bewildered.
“Well, it says here, on Kilgharrah’s will, that should anything happen to him, you and one other…um a Freya nó Emrys, deceased, shall be named his heir. And since you have been cleared of all charges, the seizure of said property is now unlawful and must be returned,” Geoffrey explains.
“I…,”Merlin pauses and swallows. “I don’t want the house. Please sell it, except for the library. Anything in there, I will keep,” Merlin says remembering the book on dragons and Dragonlords.
“Of course. Now there is still the matter of…,” Geoffrey sets the first scroll down and pulls the other one forward, “…the matter of the Emrys estates.”
Merlin just stares at him, unable to wrap his mind around the words. “What Geoffrey is trying to say is that you have inherited the title and estates of the Comte de Emrys,” Morgana says with a smile.
“You’re joking,” Merlin whispers.
“Her highness does not joke,” Geoffrey says with a sniff. “The Emrys title is an old title that had been held by the kingdom for a couple of generations. Her majesty, the late queen, Ygraine de la Pendragon, passed them on to Kilgharrah for services rendered. After her death, they were stripped from Kilgharrah for reasons kept confidant and that until such a time that he was pardoned or his death, they would remain with the kingdom. However, he willed them to his heir which as of now is you.”
“I…I’ll accept them,” Merlin says softly, feeling tears in his eyes. Even now, Kilgharrah is still looking out for him. It would take a while for everything to go through, but for all sakes and purposes, Merlin is a land holder.
Arthur takes one look at him and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“I…I’m a peer of the realm,” Merlin says, still dazed.
~*~
The house where Merlin grew up is sold and though it grieves him to never step foot in there again, he knows it is for the good. He could never live where the two people he loved had died. A small portion of the money is spent for preparations to the Emrys estates.
Two weeks after being landed, the set off at a slow pace. There is a small train of pack animals behind them, weighted down with the books and such things from the library and throughout the house that Merlin wished to keep. With a small group of guards, courtesy of Morgana, they make their slow journey north.
The Emrys estates aren’t big, but they’re surrounded by forests. It seems fitting to Merlin. It is a little over run, but the people there are friendly. They stare at Merlin with some sort of awe and it isn’t until later that he finds out that most of the staff practice the Old Religion and know just who he is.
~*~
They settle in and the days pass by in peace. Merlin spends his time reading up on the books he had brought with them and those already in the huge library. He helps with cleaning the estates up and with the garden. Often, he takes walks through the forest, just absorbing everything around him.
Aithusa takes to everything like a fish to water. He lets the servants brave enough to get close pet and coddle him, eating treats from their hands. He flies everywhere, but still comes back with each night. He has grown since he first broke through his shell. His wings are larger and his length longer. He’s put on more muscle mass. Soon, he will be too big for Merlin to carry around with ease.
It takes some getting used to and since Merlin has never run an estate, he gets as much help from the head woman. She takes to Merlin like a mother, keeping him fed and answering any questions he might have. And though he’s still not used to it, he can at least act like a peer.
~*~
Merlin wakes with a start. He can feel Arthur pressed up behind him and knows that the knight is awake as well. There’s another knock at the door. “What?” Merlin calls out.
“Sir, you have a visitor,” one of the servants says through the door, their voice muffled.
“I’m coming,” Merlin says and hears their footsteps walking away. Merlin groans, “I was hoping to get to sleep in today,” Merlin mutters, shoving his face back into his pillow.
“Get up, idiot,” Arthur says, shoving Merlin until he has to get up or fall off of the bed. Glaring at his lover, Merlin huffs and stalks over to the wardrobe, hissing at the cool floors on his bare feet. Aithusa ignores them and curls deeper into the warm blankets on the bed.
Merlin is dressed and more away by the time he comes down the stairs, Arthur behind him. Merlin isn’t sure who to expect, but he is surprised when he enters the sitting room to see Plaine de Bawes waiting for him.
Kilgharrah’s old friend looks like he’s aged a few years, but he still grins at Merlin. He comes forward to grasp Merlin by the shoulders, looking him over. “You look well, warlock,” he says softly.
“It’s good to see you,” Merlin says.
“I was in Acestir when I heard the news. It pains me to see my friend go. He was good to all of us,” Plaine says.
Merlin swallows and nods, feeling a lump in his throat at the reminder of Kilgharrah. “He was that. Come, you must be tired after your journey. I’ll have the servants bring your things to your room while we talk over breakfast,” Merlin says.
~*~
It isn’t until dinner that night that Plaine tells the real reason for his coming. They sit at the small informal dining table having finished the main course and are nibbling on sweetmeats and cheese, their goblets never dry.
“Why are you here?” Merlin asks finally. “I mean I am glad you have come to visit, but it is a bit of a journey to get out here.”
“Of course, though it is an odd tale to tell. I was staying with a friend of mine in Mercia. We had bedded down for the night when I felt a draft through my room. I lit a candle to find I had a guest. She never told me her name, just that she asked that I deliver a package to you. Said that it was important. Then she was gone, as if it had been a dream except the package was still on my bed,” Plaine says.
“Did you know who it was?” Merlin asks softly, though he can already guess.
“No. At first, I thought her a serving girl, with her garb, but her manners and speech were too well bred to be anything but of noble birth. Her hair was dark and her eyes were this bright blue that seemed to glow. Do you know who she is?” he asks Merlin.
Merlin nods. “Nimueh,” he says softly. “You said there was a package?”
Plaine nods and lifts something off of the ground, holding it out to Merlin. “I never opened it,” he assures Merlin whose hands are shaking as he takes it.
Setting it down on his lap, Merlin swallows before pulling on the ties around the clothe covering. As the strings unfold, his cloak spills forth in its dark fold. He had completely forgotten about it in all that had happened. He’d been wearing it that night, the night she betrayed him.
“What does it mean?” Arthur asks and Merlin can hear the anger in his words.
Merlin looks up at him, “She’s challenging me to come and find her.”
“Will you?” Plaine asks and Merlin looks at him.
Merlin takes a breath and lets it out. “No. I have more important things to do then play her games. Some needs me right now and I will not let her choose my path,” Merlin says simply.
“She won’t take kindly to that. She’ll come after you,” Arthur says.
“Let her come then. I won’t let her hurt me again,” Merlin says with conviction, clenching his fists in the cloak. He is a warlock and a Dragonlord. Let her try.
End.
The descent into the valley is tense, everyone watching D’Alene and his men. But he keeps his word and no move is made against them. The moment the entire army is in the valley, Pellinore starts sending out orders, orders to start making camp and to start rationing food off to D’Alene’s men.
Valiant stands off to the side and for a moment; his eyes are on Merlin and Arthur. He smirks and turns and leaves. “If we didn’t need him, I’d kill him where he stands,” Arthur says darkly, watching Valiant’s retreating form. “Why are you so willing to trust him?” Arthur asks, turning to look at Merlin.
“He was a hero once. No matter what he is now, he knows the feeling and even though he won’t live, he’d rather die a hero,” Merlin says softly.
“Why is Nimueh doing this?” Arthur asks silently. “She could have gotten Camelot with him.”
Merlin shakes his head. “The Picts would have still invaded. No Nimueh plays this game for high stakes. Why gain one kingdom when she could get an empire. Either way, she would gain, no matter who wins,” Merlin says, rubbing at his eyes in weariness.
“How could she willingly do this? She’ll have blood on her hands and she doesn’t even blink,” Arthur says softly.
“I don’t know,” Merlin says. They follow Pellinore through the camp as they ready to meet. They talk well into the night, discussing strategy and tactics. Merlin is there to translate, but eventually, they finish discussing everything. Merlin is exhausted from the walk to the valley and his use of magic. When the meeting breaks up, he and Arthur find their tent and collapse for a few hours’ sleep.
When they rise, it is late afternoon and the camp is alive with activity. With a strategy, they are making ready to march. While they had slept, men had been sent to get their horses and the rest of their men who had guarded them.
Dawn is a quiet affair as they file man, horse and pack mule back out of the valley. On his horse back on top of the valley, Merlin watches and feels uneasy, like he’s missed something. Something important and can’t recall what just yet.
Merlin rides silently beside Arthur back through the mountains, the feeling not letting up. As they reach the hill lands again, Merlin can’t stop from feeling hopefully. They’re finally going to do something and not run. He may be about to go to his death, but at least he will have done something to try and save his home.
~*~
The night before they are to attack, Merlin sits on the outskirts of the camp, staring up at the sky. Silently, he prays to the Balance, prays that they’ll survive, that they’ll make a difference, for guidance on what he should do.
Merlin gasps as he feels magic swirl around him and his vision goes gold. An image appears before him. It shows him with a scale in his hand.
You will know…
Just as quickly as the magic appeared, it’s gone and Merlin falls over, gasping for breath. Looking around, Merlin sees that he is still alone. No one had noticed him. Shaking himself, Merlin gets up on shaky legs and looks for Pellinore.
They’re on the other side of the camp looking out at Arrœk’s army. They can see Fæstenn from here. Arrœk’s army surrounds it. The defenses around the main wall are gone, unable to stop the overwhelming numbers. The siege towers stand around the walls, of the four that they can see, two are charred husks. Of the other two, only one seems stable enough to be used against the people in the fortress it is just out of range of the archer’s bows.
“We can only hope that those in the fortress will recognize us and know to attack as well,” Pellinore says softly, eyes hard.
“They won’t once they see the D’Alene snakes,” Valiant says with a hint of morbid humor.
“My son is not stupid. When he sees the Frumgar’s Red Hart, he will know it is us,” Pellinore says.
“Will they even be able to see it from a distance such as this?” Valiant asks, eyeing the commander. Pellinore doesn’t say anything, the two men lost in thought.
Merlin stares out at the enemy camp and feels his heart skip a beat. From here, it’s hard to make out, but Merlin can see them: the slaves, women and men, all taken when the Picts had raided towns and villages between here and the mountains.
Merlin watches them silently, unable to look away as his own memories play back through his mind. He can feel Valiant’s gaze on him, but he ignores the man. Nothing he can say will ever change what has happened to him.
~*~
Merlin wakes sweating to darkness in his tent. Beside him, Arthur is dead to the world, sleeping peacefully, or as peacefully as one can sleep before battle. Aithusa is curled next to him, asleep as well. Merlin can feel it though, the rise of magic, pressing down on him.
Now…
He hears it clearly. Slipping silently from under his blankets, Merlin leaves the two to continue sleeping. Out in the camp, it is cool, the moon slowly rising into the sky. Before Merlin had lived with Kilgharrah, he had lived in the Court who taught their people how to move unobserved, invisible, silently.
He knows Arthur will hate him for this, but it needs to be done. It’s not hard to travel the length of the camp to where Valiant has set his tent. The man comes awake the moment Merlin kneels beside his bedroll, eyes shining in the dim light, trained straight into Merlin’s.
“What do you want?” he asks softly.
Merlin stays silent for a moment before answering, “They will be ready for the attack.”
“You’ll be captured or killed,” Valiant says, sitting up to look at Merlin.
“Not before I can deliver my message,” Merlin says. “The camp is full of slaves. None will notice me until it is too late. Morgana will know we are here.”
“You little idiot, Arrœk will make you talk and you’ll give us away,” he hisses.
Merlin smiles sadly, “No, my lord. I will not.” He must see the light reflecting off of the golden specks in Merlin’s eyes because he frowns, Merlin just able to make it out in the light.
“Why have you come to me?” he asks eventually.
“Because, my lord, you are the only one who will not stop me,” Merlin says. “I just need help past the sentries. I can save so many lives with this. You had your choice of death, at least give me mine.”
Merlin waits silently, holding his breath. Finally, Valiant nods, getting up to get dressed. It takes little time for Merlin and Valiant to leave the tent. Merlin trails behind the man, waiting until he has one of the sentries distracted.
Pulling his magic around him like a cloak, Merlin slips by them unnoticed, a shadow amongst the shadows. It is not easy going by day and at night; it is even harder to remain silent. Merlin freezes every time he hears a sound. His heart has been beating fast and hard the whole way to the enemy camp, but eventually, he makes the camp unnoticed.
It takes some wiggling to get through the bulwark built up around the camp and for a second, something snags on the rough wood. Merlin freezes as cloth tears and he waits with baited breath, but none stir to check out the sound.
Pulling gently, the cloth of his sleeve rips, leaving a small bit of it behind. Unfazed, Merlin jumps down on silent feet behind enemy lines. Between him and the wall lies thousands of Picts. Gulping softly, Merlin starts to make his way, using his magic as sparingly as possible.
The outer most camps are easy to slip by, following the dividing lines between clans and tribes, knowing where to walk to go unnoticed through the slumbering men. Some of them are awake though, but what do they see, a young Alban, dirty and shivering in fear. Merlin angles his path towards the slave pens, hoping they’ll think he is returning to them. They do, thankfully, none stopping him.
Merlin’s luck runs out though as he trips over an unseen spear thrown across the path, sending him falling to his hands and knees and sending a spear clattering to the ground. The Pict that they belonged to stirs, looking up at him. “Where are you off to, little one?” he asks in Pictish. “Come here,” he says again, holding out his arm.
Merlin freezes and looks down at the face of a young slave woman. They seem to speak silently because she turns over, murmuring nonsense, pulling the Pict closer. The man doesn’t understand her, but he knows her intent and he laughs, pulling her closer. Merlin, heart in his throat, waits silently, but the Pict seems to have forgotten his presence completely.
Merlin sends a silent prayer for the woman’s safety and keeps going. He comes upon one of the burnt out siege towers, it’s upper half leaning against the wall. Clenching his hands into fists hard, Merlin squares his shoulders and starts to climb.
He ignores the pain of splinted driving under his skin and keeps climbing. He goes up and up and eventually, he is high enough to look into one of the narrow window slits in the wall. Clutching the burnt wood tightly, Merlin breaks off a piece and quickly tosses it into the window, hoping that it is manned.
There is a flicker of light and then Merlin is blinded temporarily by a torch and just makes out a crossbow being aimed at him. “Hold!” he yells out to the soldier. “In the name of the Queen hold!”
A shout goes up as the Picts awake at his voice, stirring and starting to swarm the base of the tower. Turning to the soldier, Merlin reacts quickly, “Tell the Queen, tell Morgana that Kilgharrah’s other pupil has done her bidding!”
That’s all Merlin can get out before there are hands on him, pulling him back and down. He holds on for a moment waiting for the soldier to nod. When he does, Merlin lets his hold go and falls back, his fall only being stopped by the Picts dragging him down.
Merlin is thrown to the ground in a ring of Picts. “What are you doing? Did you think you could gain the castle, slave?” One of them yells. “He can’t understand you,” Another says.
A hush falls around them as the wall of Picts opens up and someone walks through. “Oh, I think he understands you perfectly. Don’t you, Merlin?” Arrœk asks softly, crouching down in front of Merlin.
Merlin nods slowly, not looking up, “Yes.” Arrœk uses a finger to lift his chin and then slaps him hard across the face, sending Merlin to the floor, his head ringing with the blow and blood dripping from a split lip.
Arrœk grabs him by the hair, hauling him up. “I owe you that much, little whore. Now tell me, why were you on that tower?” Merlin stares at him and keeps quiet. Arrœk shakes his fist, jerking Merlin’s head. “I’ll ask again, why were you on that tower?” Merlin just licks the blood off of his lip and remains silent.
“He shouted something,” one of Arrœk’s men says.
“What was it?” he demands. The men argue over what Merlin had said, stumbling over the words, tongue thick in their mouths. “Send for one of the slaves,” Arrœk roars out and they scramble to do just that.
It’s grim irony that the woman they bring forward is the one who saved him from detection before. They tell the woman haltingly what they heard. “Tell the Queen, tell Morgana that Kilgharrah’s other pupil has done her bidding,” the woman says calmly.
Arrœk smirks and sends the woman back to the slave pens. “This will be easier on you if you just tell me. If you cooperate, I can grant you a quick, clean death, Merlin. If you speak,” Arrœk whispers to Merlin.
Merlin can’t stop it as a laugh bubbles up inside his chest, escaping his throat. “My lord, I’d rather take the other choice,” Merlin says easily.
“Then you will have it. Let your Queen see how I treat her spies,” Arrœk says. He throws Merlin to two of his men who grab him by his arms, forcing him to his knees, head bowed. There’s a moment of quiet and then the back of Merlin’s shirt is ripped open to the cool air. Merlin shivers slightly, realizing just what is about to happen.
“Morgana de la Pendragon, see what happens to your spies,” Arrœk yells out. Merlin holds his breath as the sound of a dagger being drawn reaches his ears. Merlin struggles, trying to pull free but the Picts hold his arms securely as Arrœk begins to cut into his back, slowly skinning Merlin alive.
Merlin screams, he knows he does as Arrœk slowly peels his skin from his back, but then his vision his hazing over with gold and though his body still screams, his mind has gone elsewhere. Merlin isn’t sure how much time passes in this way.
Then suddenly, Arrœk stops and Merlin is back in his own body, shivering in shock, his back on fire and tears running down his face. He can feel blood running down his sides, soaking into his clothing, but all of it is forgotten at the voice ringing out, “Arrœk, I challenge you to an Anwig!”
Merlin is let go and he falls to the ground limp. Turning his head, Merlin can just see Arthur, his hair shining golden in the torchlight. His sword is unsheathed and his eyes blaze in rage. “No,” Merlin croaks out, hand inching along trying in vain to tell Arthur to leave, to not sacrifice himself for Merlin.
Merlin is ignored except for a brief flick of Arthur’s eyes towards him. “Very well, Arthur. Let us Anwig and let your Queen and all of the five kingdoms see as I defeat her champion,” Arrœk says with glee.
Arthur just stands there, composed in his travel stained clothing. Underneath his tunic, Merlin can see his chainmail peeking out, glinting in the light. The two are circled until there is a wall of Picts around them. Merlin is hauled to his knees with a gasp and now he can see everything.
Merlin can’t keep up, no matter how he tries. They are too fast and he is still befuddled from whatever his magic had done to allow him to endure the pain. All he can see is swords flashing in the light, metal striking metal. There are yells all around them, thousands of Picts watching, yelling, and beating their spears on shields.
For a second, Arthur staggers and Merlin holds his breath, waiting to see what happens as Arrœk attack. The knight dodges, barely avoiding the blow. Coming out of a roll, he attacks again and Merlin breaths again. There is the screech of metal on metal and then as cry goes up. Arrœk’s blood falls to the ground. The Anwig is done, Arthur has won.
In the silence, Arthur sheaths his sword, waiting to see how this will play out. Arrœk laughs, long and hard. “For that, I will let you live long enough to see him die,” Arrœk says, advancing again.
Merlin sees the moment Arthur’s shoulders slump in despair. He turns to look at where Merlin is knelt on the ground. Their eyes meet and Merlin can see clearly what he is thinking as if the knight has spoken directly into his mind. Merlin just smiles and nods his head.
Unsheathing his sword again, Arthur reaches down and pulls out his boot dagger, hefting the blade in his hand. Turning, Arthur cocks his arm back, sword rising to his own throat: the last act of a protector for their ward when all is lost.
“Do it,” Merlin whispers.
Arthur lifts his arm up and freezes, looking over Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin looks to and his heart beats loudly in his chest. The portcullis is lowering and Merlin realizing what is about to happen, reaches for the reserves of power he has left and shoves, sending the Picts around him and Arthur flying to the ground.
Arthur is on him before he can even start to fall, grabbing his arm and pulling Merlin along. Merlin gasps in pain, but keeps going. The draw bridge comes down and they race towards it. Above them, fire rains down on the Picts following and Merlin looks up to see a group of people standing on the bridge, fire raining from their hands.
Two horsemen race out across the draw bridge. They draw up next to Merlin and Arthur. Merlin is hauled up without ceremony and thrown across the saddle, Arthur pulling himself up behind the other man. They ride back across the draw bridge, the sorcerers following and the drawbridge raising.
The horses draw up in the courtyard and people swarm around them. Merlin is gently pulled from the saddle and lowered to the ground. “Merlin!” someone yells out, frantic and Merlin looks up to see Gwen kneeling in front of him.
“Gwen?” Merlin asks, confused as to why his childhood friend is here. He would have said more, but his visions starts to go dark around the edges, his ears ringing hollowly. Merlin collapses to the ground, out cold.
~*~
Merlin comes to a few minutes later and can hear voices all around him. He looks up to see Gwen’s worried face, a man next to her in the black tunic of the Brotherhood. “Oh Merlin,” Gwen says softly, touching his cheek gently.
“Make way for the physician!” Someone yells out and suddenly Gaius is there, face grave as he looks Merlin over.
“Help me get him to my chamber,” Gaius says. There are hands under Merlin’s arms as they haul him to his feet. Arthur is on his right and the man that had been next to Gwen is on his left.
In Gaius’s rooms, they lower him to his stomach on a table and Gaius gets to work quickly cleaning the flesh of his back. Merlin feels cold and sick as he feels the stripped flesh being moved but he clamps his jaws together and grits through it. Gaius takes up a thread and needle and starts to sew.
“It’s not as bad as it could have been,” Gaius says and Merlin can only nod to the physician’s words. Merlin can hear other voices but they all hush as the doors open. Merlin can see Gwen curtsy out of the corner of his eye and he turns his head to see Morgana standing in the doorway flanked by her knight protector.
“Merlin nó Emrys,” she says simply.
“I would bow my lady, but I can’t at the moment,” Merlin whispers, voice hoarse and throat dry.
“Understandable. You say you have a message for me?” Morgana asks, coming forward as the door is shut behind her.
Merlin takes a breath and says evenly, “An army of over seven thousand is going to be attacking Arrœk’s rearguard tomorrow at dawn.”
“Seven thousand Hibernians?” someone asks and it takes Merlin a second to realize that there is someone else with Morgana. Persant de Dieu stands next to the Queen.
“No, they are only half. The other half belong to Valiant d’Alene,” Merlin says, wincing as Gaius pulls another stich closed.
“D’Alene!” Persant says, “And what idiot came up with that idea?”
“I did,” Merlin says simply, “And put into action by your father, the royal commander.”
“My father is with them?’ he asks, coming forward.
Merlin nods. “He came with us with half of his men and left Cenred to guard the eastern pass with Petit and the navy,” Merlin says.
“Why would D’Alene aid us?” Morgana asks.
Merlin winces again, “Because, he’s dead no matter what and I gave him the chance for a hero’s death.”
“You are so sure of him?” Persant asks.
“Yes, my lord. He wants revenge. He cares not for your favor, my lady. He wants only to beat Nimueh at her own game,” Merlin says.
“Very well. My lord, see to the troops and inform them of the plan. We attack at dawn. It is time we made our stand and showed these savages just who they are trying to defeat,” Morgana says with a gleam in her eyes.
Before he can say anything, someone hammers on the door. It opens to admit a red faced soldier. “Your highness, they’re tearing the tower down and using the timber to cross the moat,” he says with a sketchy bow.
“It seems your little stunt has angered him,” Persant says with a look at Merlin.
“We need to keep his eyes on us until dawn or else the plan will fall apart. Tell your men to let him get as close as we can before you drive him back. But above all else, keep his eyes on us,” Morgana orders.
“Of course, my Queen,” Persant says, bowing. He leaves quickly and the room is silent except for Merlin’s harsh breathing. With one last stitch, Gaius steps away from the table.
“There you are, my boy. I’ll bandage it up and give you something for the pain and then you should be fine,” Gaius says. True to his words, Merlin is bandaged and doused with a painkiller that works quickly. “I have others I must see to, but you are free to stay here for as long as you need.”
“I too must go. You did well, Merlin. Thank you,” Morgana says. Bowing his head, Merlin watched the two leave and the door shut.
“How are you feeling?” Gwen asks coming up to look at him where he had sat up.
“I’m all right, Gwen,” Merlin says. “What are you doing here?”
Gwen colors and looks at the other knight in the room. The man comes forward with a smile. “I’m Lancelot du Lac, Gwen’s protector,” he says.
Merlin looks between the two seeing the besotted look they bother wear. “Gwen?” Merlin asks, arching a brow. Gwen blushes and nods. “When?”
“It was soon after you had disappeared. Lancelot had come back to his family for a visit and we met and it just sort of happened. He is one of the knights that Morgana has been using to carry messages,” Gwen explains.
“Congratulations,” Merlin says with a grin.
“Come on, you can come to our rooms. You could use some rest after this,” Gwen says. Between Arthur and Lancelot, they keep Merlin from falling over as they traverse through stone corridors.
Merlin frowns and stops them just as they enter the courtyard. “Arthur, where’s Aithusa?”
“He was gone when I left. I haven’t seen him since,” Arthur says. As if his name is a beacon, there’s a screech overhead and a flash of white descends down on them. There are yells, soldiers taking aim at the little dragon.
“No!” Merlin yells, throwing his hands out to stop them.
Something clicks inside him and the world just stops for a split second. Merlin looks around, dazed before Aithusa comes barreling into his arms. The jolt of the impact knocks him over and the world is moving again.
From his place on the ground, Merlin holds the little dragon as it cries piteously, Aithusa rubbing his head on Merlin’s chest. “Shh, shh, I’m all right. I’m all right,” Merlin whispers to the dragon.
A shout goes up around them as men cry out “Dawn” to let everyone know. The dawn has come at last and their final stand is here. “We need to get somewhere high,” Merlin says. The other’s nod and they help Merlin over to the stairs.
~*~
They keep to the walls of the stairwell as soldiers come running up and down them in a rush to be ready. Eventually though, the four of them make it to the battlements on the eastern wall where they could see the battle.
Merlin shivers in the cool air of dawn and stares out over a sea of Picts. He still can’t believe he traversed that distance. It feels like a dream or nightmare. The Picts rush the wall still, breaking against the wall like a wave against the rocks only to be driven back by the archers.
“How much longer until attack?” Merlin hears Gwen ask.
“There’s no hope of not being seen by the Picts once they reach flat ground, but it should still be enough for them to get close. Arrœk will attack them and then Morgana will attack from behind. At most an hour from now,” Lancelot says.
“Merlin,” someone calls from behind them.
Turning, Merlin can only stare at the image of Dame Fors in front of him. There are four others behind her, two men and two women. The other heads of the Moonlight Court branches. Merlin had completely forgotten about their involvement.
“Dame Fors,” he says back softly, bowing his head.
“Will you be joining us in this battle?” Dinas Seneschal, head of the Wind Court, asks.
Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t know battle magic and my reserves are already low,” Merlin says softly.
Aithusa chirps at him, lifting his head up to look at the new arrivals. There’s a collective gasp as they stare at the little dragon. “It seems much more has happened to you then you first let on, warlock,” Dame Fors says with an arched brow.
Merlin flushes a little and nods. “Be safe, young warlock. I wish to have a nice long chat once this is over,” Dame Fors says. She nods to Arthur and then Gwen and Lancelot before she and the other heads head further down the wall.
“We should get off the wall,” Arthur says softly.
Merlin shakes his head, “No, history is being made below and with it change. They say a warlock is a sign of change, so I will remain here to see it through.”
“You’re an idiot, you know that right?” Arthur says with a glare at Merlin.
Merlin just smiles and nods. Sighing, Arthur turns back to view the soon to be battle field. They wait there, breaths steaming in the cool air and watch the horizon, searching for the Hibernians and Alban army.
“Look!” Gwen cries and they can see it: a line of silver advancing slowly from behind the Pictish army. “They made it.”
Although they had stopped any Pictish scouting parties from giving them away, they can’t hide form from Arrœk’s army forever. The rear scouts shout a warning to their comrades and as one, the sea of bodies seems to shift. In the center of it all, Arrœk turns his mount and surveys the oncoming army.
They wait with baited breath, watching as the distance between them closes. The two armies clash like two living things, the roars and clang of metal just reaching their position on the wall. Although the forces are disorganized, there are so many of them it doesn’t matter.
And even though there attention is drawn, Arrœk isn’t stupid. He yells out orders, leaving enough men to keep their forces penned in the fortress. The first wave of Picts finish breaking against the army and the next comes howling at them.
But although they are undisciplined and fierce, they cannot stand up to the skill of D’Alene’s men as they steadily march forward, swords flashing bloody red in the light of the slowly rising sun. Gwen gasps and Merlin looks to see where she is looking. From the south comes Driant’s army.
They stream over the hills, their war chants heard even over the Pictish roaring. They descend on Arrœk’s unsuspecting right flank, tearing a bloody swath through the enemy. And in the middle of it all, Merlin can see Driant and the Twins.
Merlin turns back towards the Alban forces in time to see them hunker down behind their shields, holding their line despite the overwhelming numbers against them. They open up and Merlin can only stare as from between the two sides, D’Alene’s Calvary comes charging forward. Decked out in armor, even the horses; they make a wedge, forcing their way through the Pictish ranks straight for the center, for Arrœk.
There’s a flash of light as the forces keeping them penned race towards their fellow warriors to fight against D’Alene’s forces. Merlin hears the portcullis rise and the draw bridge lower and the soldier that had been pinned in the fortress come streaming out to fall upon the Picts from behind.
Penned in from three sides, the Picts fight against their enemies and for a second, it seems they are about to over run them. And then the first ball of fire rains down on the Picts and Merlin looks to see the Court heads spaced out along the wall.
The Picts see the sorcerers and Merlin can see the fear in their eyes, even from here. They are a superstitious people and the sight of magic is something that goes against their beliefs. As the Picts begin to break ranks, Arrœk roars his fury and turns his mount, heading straight for where Valiant is, the man heading straight for Arrœk.
They clash together like two forces of nature. Around them, a bubble has formed as they fight. Merlin is too far away to see clearly, but he can see enough to know they are nearly evenly matched. But eventually, one has to go down.
Valiant gives the final blow and Merlin watches as Arrœk falls down to one knee. Valiant brings his sword down, finding a gap in Arrœk’s armor and drives it home. Arrœk dies there on the battlefield, eyes staring straight up at the sky as the sun slowly rose higher.
And then Valiant is there next to him, falling to his knees as he succumbs to his wounds. He had turned his back on his country on the five nations, betraying them and yet he had died a hero’s death, saving the one thing he had betrayed. It seems fitting.
~*~
After that, it is almost too easy. With their leader down, the lines Merlin had traveled so easily tear and the Pictish army breaks apart, clans and tribes, even steadings, leaving, running back for their mountains.
The four of them had started to descend the stairs to go back down to the courtyard. They hear screams just as they descend to the floor just above the courtyard. Looking down, Merlin pales. A group of Picts had somehow gotten into the fortress in a desperate attempt to inflict damage.
Merlin yells out and he feels his magic swell, feels magic from around him, pressing down, feeling the Balance with him. He isn’t sure what he does, but the Picts are sent flying back out through the main gate, the soldiers that had been running to help falling on them.
There is deathly quiet as everyone stares at him. Merlin is too busy trying to keep his shaking knees from giving out to notice it. He does notice when the word “Dragonlord” is whispered. Looking up, Merlin looks at where Aithusa is resting on his shoulder, blue eyes shining bright with magic.
“Thank you,” Merlin says softly to the dragon, petting the dragon. Aithusa just chirps and them Merlin is letting Arthur lower him to the ground so that he doesn’t fall over.
~*~
The rest of the day is spent cleaning up. Half of the army is sent after the fleeing Picts, to make sure they don’t decide to pillage and more villages or towns on the way back to their mountains. Workers go amongst the fallen, searching for any wounded still alive, giving out water, killing any Picts still alive.
It’s a messy job, but it needs to be done. Gaius and his staff are kept busy seeing to all the wounded. Merlin tries to go out to the battle field and help, but between Gwen and Arthur, they herd him to a bed and he hadn’t realized he was so tired until they got him under a blanket.
Merlin wakes up to darkness, torches blazing throughout the fortress. Getting up with a wince, body stiff, Merlin makes it out of the room. Aithusa flies behind him, chirping softly. Only Gwen is in the other room and she smiles when she see his come out of the bedroom.
“You look better,” she says.
“Thanks,” Merlin croaks. He nods in thanks when she hands him a goblet of water, drinking it down quickly. Finished, they both leave to search out their knight protectors to help with whatever needs to be done.
It takes days for everything to be seen to. Blame and punishment are given out and though it makes Merlin uneasy, he is willing to be an advisor to Morgana when it comes to the captured Picts. For the most part though, plans are made to see to the restoration of all the villages and towns destroyed by the Picts.
There is also a royal wedding to be planned. Morgana and Driant meet on the draw bridge and he kisses her with the shouts of approval from both armies. Merlin stands with Arthur as they watch and is glad that some good could come from this.
With the army being broken up, things slowly return to some normalcy. Merlin spends some time in the hospital wards with Gaius and the other healers, offering his magic to help where ever he can. Arthur always comes for him when the sun starts to goes down below the horizon; sometimes having to literally drag Merlin out, the warlock is so tired.
Arthur doesn’t say anything, but he knows the knight understands. They haven’t talked about what it is between them, not having the time with everything happening. Maybe soon, they will, but for now, Merlin is content with not saying anything.
~*~
It is a week after that final battle that one of Morgana’s pages comes for Merlin in the hospital ward. Frowning as the boy gives Morgana’s summons, Merlin follows him back into the main part of the fortress. Morgana meets him in one of the corridors, Arthur trailing behind her.
They can see the Courtyard down below. As they watch, the gates open and Duc Mordred de Porte rides through, flanked by his own soldiers and what appears to be a few L’Isle kinsmen. Merlin can only stare as he finally see who they have riding between them.
Nimueh de l’Isle is calm as she dismounts. She doesn’t even glance there way as guards lead her from the courtyard. Merlin feels numb, his throat working but no sound coming out. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” Morgana says softly. “If I could do the trial without you, I would.”
Finally, Merlin gets his tongue to work. “I know my lady,” he whispers back. Arthur just stands behind him, a hand on his shoulder.
~*~
The trial is held in the makeshift throne room that Morgana has had made. The entire council is there, including the other kings who had fought in the battle. Even Cenred is there, stripped of his titles as he is. He has as much stake in Nimueh’s conviction as anyone else.
Merlin is brought to the room before Nimueh and is placed in a small notch, hidden away from sight until he is needed. Merlin hears the door open and the tramp of soldier’s boots as they escort Nimueh into the room.
“Lady Nimueh de l’Isle, you stand before us accused of treason. How do you plead?” Morgana asks, voice cool and even. Merlin can just see her profile from his hiding place and her face is expressionless as she stares at the sorceress.
“Your majesty, I have always served Camelot. Duc de Porte makes groundless accusations. Where was he during this battle when every man was needed? Yes, I refute this accusation and demand he show his proof if he wishes to charge me.”
“You are also charged with conspiring with Selises Arrœk of the Picts,” Morgana says.
Nimueh is silent for a long moment, taken by surprise. Mordred had kept her in the dark about everything that had happened. He had found the chink in her armor. Finally, Nimueh speaks. “Does the Duc have proof? There is nothing that the dead can say against me, so let him come forth with his proof.”
“It is not the Duc who makes such a claim,” Morgana says simply.
“Then by my right, I wish to face my accuser,” Nimueh says simply.
Merlin knows his cue even before Morgana waves her hand to bring him forward. Squaring his shoulder, Merlin steps forward from his hiding place to stare down at Nimueh, “I am your accuser.” Merlin can feel Arthur close by, can feel his gaze on him and he takes strength from it.
Merlin starts when Arthur comes beside him, hand out. Looking down, Merlin takes the collar of woven wire and Merlin feels something inside him let loose, a knot coming undone that he hadn’t noticed before. Turning, Merlin grips it in his hand hard and then flings it to the ground at Nimueh’s feet. “That is yours, my lady,” Merlin hisses.
Nimueh is pale as she stares up at Merlin. She takes a breath and Merlin can see her mind working, looking for a way out of this. And then she laughs softly. “That old dragon plays an incredible endgame, even after his death. Persant knew of the invasion. He was ready. Your doing?” Nimueh asks, looking at Merlin.
Merlin nods. “I saw the letter in your own handwriting to Arrœk,” Merlin says softly. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.”
“I had thought leaving you your knight would be a bit much, but sentiment and all that,” Nimueh says simply.
“Do you refute the charges?” Morgana asks, breaking off Nimueh’s speech.
“You have proof, I assume?” Nimueh asks. Morgana nods but doesn’t say what the proof is. Nimueh nods, “I thought as much. I have no more to say.”
Morgana nods coldly. “You execution will be at dawn.” No one speaks against the verdict. Nimueh is escorted back out of the room. The moment the door closes, Merlin sags, heart still beating in his throat.
“It’s over Merlin, it’s over,” Arthur says, holding the warlock up.
“I know,” Merlin says simply.
~*~
Merlin spends the rest of the day with the healers, seeing to those wounded in the battle. Although it didn’t keep his mind from swirling with emotions, it helped keep his hands busy and that was all he could hope to do. Arthur leaves him alone for the most part, only coming to collect him as the sun sinks.
The messenger comes for Merlin in the late hours of the night. Merlin is still awake, unable to find comfort in sleep. He bears Nimueh’s last request, to speak with Merlin. Merlin hesitates, wondering if he should or not.
Finally, Merlin nods and pulling on a warm cloak, Merlin follows the man down into the lower levels of the fortress. Nimueh has been given a small room to herself, a final kindness for the woman who will die in the morning.
Merlin can see the spells written into the walls. No magic can be used in the room. There is no way Nimueh can escape. Nimueh is waiting in a chair, watching him as he enters, shutting the door behind him.
“I didn’t think you would come,” she admits.
“What do you want?” Merlin asks, trying to keep his face expressionless.
“To see you one last time before I die,” Nimueh says with a small smile.
“I doubt that,” Merlin says.
“Do you hate me so much?” Nimueh asks softly.
“Yes,” Merlin hisses, letting some of his anger show through.
“It was a long shot, but I had hoped you wouldn’t. But what else can I do but play the hand I’ve been given. Maybe it would have been different if I had gotten to you before Kilgharrah. Who’s to say,” Nimueh says softly. “I underestimated you.”
“What did Arrœk promise you?” Merlin asks.
Nimueh smiles, “Half an empire.”
“Why?” Merlin asks, the confusion evident in his voice. That question has nagged at the back of his mind this whole terrible journey.
“Because I could,” she says simply.
Merlin shudders at her words. “You should go now,” Nimueh says simply and Merlin staggers away and to the door, knocking on it and waiting for the guards to let him out.
“Are you all right?” one of them asks, taking in Merlin’s stricken expression. Merlin simply nods and walks away, his emotions and thought tied up into even bigger knots than they had been before Nimueh had asked for his presence.
~*~
Merlin spends the night atop the battlements, staring out across the vast landscape spread out around the fortress. Arthur finds him there a few hours before dawn. He doesn’t say anything, but Merlin can feel his gaze boring into Merlin’s back.
“You went to see her,” Arthur says. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin says softly. “Validation, closure, something…anything...”
“Did you find it?” Arthur asks, coming to stand next to him. Ahead to the east, the sky is already starting to lighten.
“I don’t know,” Merlin says softly, looking at the knight. Arthur just sighs and pulls him into a hug, holding the trembling warlock.
They stand there for a while and the sky lightens around them. Soon, it will be over. Except that the sound of running feet and clanking armor comes to them up on the wall. Frowning, Arthur looks around and spots one of the sentries on the wall. “What is it?” he asks the man.
“They were supposed to execute Lady Nimueh at dawn. They found the room empty and the two guards dead in front of the door. They also found the gatekeeper on the southern gate dead as well,” he says and runs off to go talk with someone else.
Merlin can’t help the soft noise that comes out of his throat or the blood draining from his face. Pressing back against the wall, Merlin slides down it and buries his face in his arms.
~*~
Merlin is brought before Morgana for questioning. Morgana is questioning everyone, not just Merlin, but he already knows why she has called him. Merlin stands before her throne feeling wearier than ever.
“She sent for you last night,” Morgana says. “And you went. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Merlin says. “Maybe I owed her that much. She spared my life once. Though I did not. That was all I owed her.”
“Is that all?” Morgana asks.
“That is all. Her execution rested on my word. If I had wanted to save her, all I would have needed to do was remain silent,” Merlin says.
“I’m sorry Merlin. You must understand, with Nimueh still out there, my throne and kingdom, every kingdom, will never be truly safe,” Morgana says softly.
“I know,” Merlin says. Morgana dismisses him and Merlin leaves.
~*~
The world goes on and time passes. Summer deepens and is soon starting to shift into autumn when they leave Fæstenn finally. Soon, the harvest will be ready to bring in and life will continue. The Hibernians ride with them, waiting for the wedding that will open up the straights for them.
Eventually though, they come to Camelot, cresting the hill to see the city sprawled across the land, the castle gleaming white in the sunshine. Home. They ride in procession through Camelot, the people shouting and cheering their arrival.
Merlin remembers a similar procession, so long ago. They had been alive then, Kilgharrah and Freya. He remembers it was the night she had her virgin price auctioned off. God, he misses them. Arthur doesn’t say anything as tears slide down his face. He’s not sure if they’re from the happiness of everything being over or from the memory of a childhood long gone.
With war and sickness to ravish the ranks of Camelot, there is room for everyone. Merlin, no longer with a home, is given room in the castle. He is still needed to translate.
Merlin wants to cry when he finds Alice waiting for him in his room. He had already seen Gaius, but Alice was his first true teacher, his confidant, and friend. Pulling her close, he hugs her, feeling tears in his eyes. Hearing a cough, Merlin looks up at Juliana, the Queen’s poet. Smiling at the woman, he goes and hugs her as well. He is finally home.
~*~
The wedding is a long drawn out affair. After so much death and sorrow, it is understandable that the people would want something happy to celebrate. It last three days, though the actual wedding barely takes an hour to complete so that Morgana and Driant are wed finally.
Merlin enjoys every minute of it. He has been through so much, but with each laugh and each friend reunited with him, he feels a little lighter. Arthur enjoys it right along with him. He even introduces Merlin to some of his knight friends, each of them bigger than the last and Merlin can only stare in awe of the bear-like man that is Percival.
But still, no matter how much fun he has and how many new people he meets, there is still one person missing. His heart squeezes a little every time he thinks of Gwaine stuck on that island. He would have loved this wedding. He would have been drunk off his ass after the first hour of celebrating.
Still, Merlin has already vowed to not stop until he finds a way to free his friend. Even if he has to go against the Old Religion itself, he won’t stop until he finds the key to Gwaine’s freedom. Arthur looks at him and knows Merlin’s resolve. He’s already pledged to help Merlin no matter what, so there is nothing left to say on the matter.
It is the week after Morgana’s wedding when Merlin is summoned to the Queen’s drawing room. When he enters, he sees an older man seated on a chair, a couple of scroll set off to the side. “Ah, Merlin, there you are. You remember Geoffrey de Monmouth, the royal archivist?” Merlin could recall seeing him a few times. He nodded. “He has some business with you.” Nodding to the man, Morgana sits down opposite of Merlin.
Geoffrey puts his glasses on and pulls one of the scrolls closer, unfurling it with ease of much practice. “Ah…in the matter of Kilgharrah’s estates…the house in the city with everything inside it was purchased by the royal household to be resold at a later date. It has yet to be sold as of this current date. I can start the proceedings for you to reclaim it or you may of course sell it and keep the money, it is your choice,” Geoffrey says.
“What?” Merlin asks, bewildered.
“Well, it says here, on Kilgharrah’s will, that should anything happen to him, you and one other…um a Freya nó Emrys, deceased, shall be named his heir. And since you have been cleared of all charges, the seizure of said property is now unlawful and must be returned,” Geoffrey explains.
“I…,”Merlin pauses and swallows. “I don’t want the house. Please sell it, except for the library. Anything in there, I will keep,” Merlin says remembering the book on dragons and Dragonlords.
“Of course. Now there is still the matter of…,” Geoffrey sets the first scroll down and pulls the other one forward, “…the matter of the Emrys estates.”
Merlin just stares at him, unable to wrap his mind around the words. “What Geoffrey is trying to say is that you have inherited the title and estates of the Comte de Emrys,” Morgana says with a smile.
“You’re joking,” Merlin whispers.
“Her highness does not joke,” Geoffrey says with a sniff. “The Emrys title is an old title that had been held by the kingdom for a couple of generations. Her majesty, the late queen, Ygraine de la Pendragon, passed them on to Kilgharrah for services rendered. After her death, they were stripped from Kilgharrah for reasons kept confidant and that until such a time that he was pardoned or his death, they would remain with the kingdom. However, he willed them to his heir which as of now is you.”
“I…I’ll accept them,” Merlin says softly, feeling tears in his eyes. Even now, Kilgharrah is still looking out for him. It would take a while for everything to go through, but for all sakes and purposes, Merlin is a land holder.
Arthur takes one look at him and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“I…I’m a peer of the realm,” Merlin says, still dazed.
~*~
The house where Merlin grew up is sold and though it grieves him to never step foot in there again, he knows it is for the good. He could never live where the two people he loved had died. A small portion of the money is spent for preparations to the Emrys estates.
Two weeks after being landed, the set off at a slow pace. There is a small train of pack animals behind them, weighted down with the books and such things from the library and throughout the house that Merlin wished to keep. With a small group of guards, courtesy of Morgana, they make their slow journey north.
The Emrys estates aren’t big, but they’re surrounded by forests. It seems fitting to Merlin. It is a little over run, but the people there are friendly. They stare at Merlin with some sort of awe and it isn’t until later that he finds out that most of the staff practice the Old Religion and know just who he is.
~*~
They settle in and the days pass by in peace. Merlin spends his time reading up on the books he had brought with them and those already in the huge library. He helps with cleaning the estates up and with the garden. Often, he takes walks through the forest, just absorbing everything around him.
Aithusa takes to everything like a fish to water. He lets the servants brave enough to get close pet and coddle him, eating treats from their hands. He flies everywhere, but still comes back with each night. He has grown since he first broke through his shell. His wings are larger and his length longer. He’s put on more muscle mass. Soon, he will be too big for Merlin to carry around with ease.
It takes some getting used to and since Merlin has never run an estate, he gets as much help from the head woman. She takes to Merlin like a mother, keeping him fed and answering any questions he might have. And though he’s still not used to it, he can at least act like a peer.
~*~
Merlin wakes with a start. He can feel Arthur pressed up behind him and knows that the knight is awake as well. There’s another knock at the door. “What?” Merlin calls out.
“Sir, you have a visitor,” one of the servants says through the door, their voice muffled.
“I’m coming,” Merlin says and hears their footsteps walking away. Merlin groans, “I was hoping to get to sleep in today,” Merlin mutters, shoving his face back into his pillow.
“Get up, idiot,” Arthur says, shoving Merlin until he has to get up or fall off of the bed. Glaring at his lover, Merlin huffs and stalks over to the wardrobe, hissing at the cool floors on his bare feet. Aithusa ignores them and curls deeper into the warm blankets on the bed.
Merlin is dressed and more away by the time he comes down the stairs, Arthur behind him. Merlin isn’t sure who to expect, but he is surprised when he enters the sitting room to see Plaine de Bawes waiting for him.
Kilgharrah’s old friend looks like he’s aged a few years, but he still grins at Merlin. He comes forward to grasp Merlin by the shoulders, looking him over. “You look well, warlock,” he says softly.
“It’s good to see you,” Merlin says.
“I was in Acestir when I heard the news. It pains me to see my friend go. He was good to all of us,” Plaine says.
Merlin swallows and nods, feeling a lump in his throat at the reminder of Kilgharrah. “He was that. Come, you must be tired after your journey. I’ll have the servants bring your things to your room while we talk over breakfast,” Merlin says.
~*~
It isn’t until dinner that night that Plaine tells the real reason for his coming. They sit at the small informal dining table having finished the main course and are nibbling on sweetmeats and cheese, their goblets never dry.
“Why are you here?” Merlin asks finally. “I mean I am glad you have come to visit, but it is a bit of a journey to get out here.”
“Of course, though it is an odd tale to tell. I was staying with a friend of mine in Mercia. We had bedded down for the night when I felt a draft through my room. I lit a candle to find I had a guest. She never told me her name, just that she asked that I deliver a package to you. Said that it was important. Then she was gone, as if it had been a dream except the package was still on my bed,” Plaine says.
“Did you know who it was?” Merlin asks softly, though he can already guess.
“No. At first, I thought her a serving girl, with her garb, but her manners and speech were too well bred to be anything but of noble birth. Her hair was dark and her eyes were this bright blue that seemed to glow. Do you know who she is?” he asks Merlin.
Merlin nods. “Nimueh,” he says softly. “You said there was a package?”
Plaine nods and lifts something off of the ground, holding it out to Merlin. “I never opened it,” he assures Merlin whose hands are shaking as he takes it.
Setting it down on his lap, Merlin swallows before pulling on the ties around the clothe covering. As the strings unfold, his cloak spills forth in its dark fold. He had completely forgotten about it in all that had happened. He’d been wearing it that night, the night she betrayed him.
“What does it mean?” Arthur asks and Merlin can hear the anger in his words.
Merlin looks up at him, “She’s challenging me to come and find her.”
“Will you?” Plaine asks and Merlin looks at him.
Merlin takes a breath and lets it out. “No. I have more important things to do then play her games. Some needs me right now and I will not let her choose my path,” Merlin says simply.
“She won’t take kindly to that. She’ll come after you,” Arthur says.
“Let her come then. I won’t let her hurt me again,” Merlin says with conviction, clenching his fists in the cloak. He is a warlock and a Dragonlord. Let her try.
End.