Fic: The Heart of King Arthur (2/?)
Masterpost: Here
King Arthur felt his heart beat slower; the noise seemed to fade around him as the pain hit. He knew, without a doubt, that the end was near. He had served Camelot well during his long reign, and now the mortal wound from Mordred’s blade would be the death of him. It was a small consolation that he had killed Mordred before he could succumb to his own fatal injury.
The king smiled, eyes trying to remain open, as he saw Merlin reach him.
“Your Majesty,” The Dragonlord uttered in grave concern. He collapsed beside his King, and he cradled his head in his lap.
“My time is at its end,” Arthur whispered what he was sure Merlin already knew.
“I wish it wasn’t,” Merlin said plaintively, sounding like a lost child and not the immortal Dragonlord that he truly was.
The king sighed weakly, and he reached up so that his fingers touched his oldest friend’s cheek, the roughness of his sword-callused hand contrasting starkly with the impossible smoothness of the ageless sorcerer’s face.
Merlin clasped his hand over Arthur’s, and he leaned into the caress as tears streaked his face and his wise, blue eyes were darkened with sadness.
Arthur closed his eyes briefly before he asked of Merlin, “Tell Guinevere that I love her, and that I wish her well.”
The Dragonlord gave a solemn nod. “Yes, I will tell her so,” he promised him.
The king coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. He hung on though, his determination seeing him through for as long as he needed it. “Merlin,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes?”
“I have not loved another as much as I have come to love you,” Arthur declared, his words true and spoke of what he held dear to his heart.
“I - I love you, too,” Merlin said quietly, sincerely. The turmoil of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He took a deep, calming breath and then with his voice wavering only slightly, he said resolutely, “May the spirits be with you, and one day, I will see you again, I promise you, My Lord.”
Gently, Merlin grasped Arthur’s hand, still upon his face, and set it down on the ground. Unwilling to let go, his hand remained over his king’s and he stroked the hand, feeling it well-worn by age and battle.
“The Dragon…” The king wondered, concerned about how this would affect the creature.
The Dragonlord gave him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand in a comforting grip. “He will always be a part of you, always.”
Arthur smiled faintly back at him. As he looked upon the pale face of his friend and mentor; King Arthur saw a long ago memory flash before his eyes of a Dragon giving him life and a tender kiss upon his brow.
The King of Camelot closed his eyes for the final time.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered in a small voice, the name like an anchor, a promise. “Good bye, my King,” he said quietly.
~ * ~
Past (495 AD):
Chaos reigned as Prince Arthur watched the small Druid village go up in flame. The villagers rushed to save and defend themselves as best as they could against the King’s men. No matter how much effort his father put into instilling an eleven year old Arthur with the same beliefs, the prince could not comprehend how this battle was justified.
Even women and children were caught in the crossfire. Eager to help, he pulled away from his mentor, Sir Kay, who shouted at him to come back, that it was foolish of him to head into such a danger. But Arthur simply couldn’t stand by and watch. He wanted to help. Checking to see that his sword was secure at his waist, he entered the battle.
Almost immediately, he found two Druid children, a girl his age and a younger boy. While they both had dark hair, the boy’s blue eyes were startling and almost cold where the girl’s plainer brown eyes were warmer. They were huddled together, pressed up against a dilapidated dwelling. Arthur caught sight of the boy and girl as one of his father’s men attacked them, drawing his sharp blade upon the children. The prince rushed to place himself between the offender and the Druid children. He was young, yes, and still learning, but Arthur wielded his sword as Sir Kay had taught him against the older man.
The young prince succeeded in disarming the other man, and with all the force he could muster, he plunged his sword into the soft flesh of the man’s stomach. The man fell down, defeated.
The boy and girl had thanked Arthur, the girl telling him her and the boy’s name. But the fight was ongoing, and there was no time for more than hurried introductions. The girl was named Freya and the boy’s name was Mordred.
With little warning, a broad-shouldered man came down on Arthur, striking him with his weapon, stabbing him. And then all the boy could feel was an overwhelming pain.
Arthur could barely hear Sir Kay rushing to him, calling to him. He pleaded with the boy that he hold on just a little longer.
The prince tried his best, but he was so tired and he only wished for the pain to cease. He couldn’t resist surrendering to the inviting darkness.
*
Arthur opened his eyes, disconcertedly taking in his surroundings.
“Hello,” Merlin said to him softly, brushing away stray locks of hair from his forehead.
“Hi,” Arthur said in a small voice, his tone uncertain.
Merlin smiled down on him. Arthur felt reassured by his presence, though he wasn’t sure why. And the dark-haired man’s eyes, his blue eyes, didn’t startle the boy as Mordred’s had in that fleeting moment. Here, the man’s eyes held a warmth to them not dissimilar to those of the Druid girl’s. They reminded Arthur of pleasant things.
And so when Merlin leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss upon his brow, Arthur found that he did not mind the gesture of affection. Even though the man was a stranger to him, Arthur appreciated the small kindness after believing he would die. But he didn’t feel like he was at death’s door anymore. He smiled at his mother who held his hand in hers.
“What does this mean, Dragonlord?” Sir Kay wanted to know. “What will this mean for Arthur?”
The Great Dragon interjected before Merlin could speak. “It means, Knight, that while I live, he will live. If one of us shall die, then the other will die too,” he explained, which sounded more like grumbling than anything else.
“My work is finished, but your work has just begun, Merlin. My soul will be damned if the child fails to rule with a good heart. Good luck,” Kilgharrah wished him in a bit of a sulky tone.
Merlin sighed, hearing the Dragon’s words. “Rest now,” he spoke quietly to the child. He swept his hand over the boy’s face.
And the young King Arthur fell into a peaceful sleep.
~ * ~
497 AD
“Sweetheart, your dress is ripped,” Merlin said with a resigned sigh.
“Arthur and I were sword fighting. I beat him,” Morgana said proudly.
Merlin’s eyes twinkled at that.
“She did not!” Arthur exclaimed, affronted. “I let you win, Morgana!”
“You did not!” Morgana denied.
Arthur addressed Merlin then. “I am telling the truth. I went easy on her. She’s not a man after all.”
“Take that back!” She demanded, rising from her seat and pointing her finger at him. “Father, he’s being horrid to me!” Morgana said fiercely.
Merlin took a deep breath and then released it. He spoke calmly, “Morgana dear, please sit down. And if you plan on beating the king in sword fighting, please wear the appropriate attire. You don’t want to ruin your dress, my dear.”
Morgana looked smug as she looked to Arthur. “Ah! See, I was right!”
Arthur grumbled. “Well, of course he’d say that. He’s your father. But I know I’m right.”
Morgana looked questioningly at her father. “But you did mean it, didn’t you? You weren’t just trying to make me feel better?”
“I have every confidence you are quite capable of doing whatever you set your mind to,” he said easily. “I believe His Majesty is contending with a bruised ego, I fear?” Merlin mused. Arthur looked betrayed. “Do not worry, Sire. It’ll pass with time.”
Morgana giggled at the comment and even Merlin chuckled a bit. Arthur sat in his chair, arms crossed against his chest and a firm frown on his face.
“Not fair,” he muttered.
“Oh, poor Arthur,” Morgana remarked, and then she went over to him, kissing him on the cheek quickly.
When they were all settled, Merlin began to go into the memory transfer spell he would do with Arthur. Morgana was there as it was an educational lesson for her, to see how such a spell worked.
Two years into his reign, Arthur had asked Merlin if he was able to give Arthur the memory of when Kilgharrah gave him life. Arthur wondered if it had been possible to do so with magic. As he’d been unconscious through most of the event, Arthur was interested in finding out what he was missing.
Fortunately, it was possible and here they were. Merlin told Arthur to close his eyes and to relax his mind, only focusing on the memory he wanted. His mentor placed one hand on either side of his forehead and then Arthur could see the memory unravel in his mind’s eye.
“Please, he will die without your help,” Queen Ygraine pleaded with the obstinate Great Dragon, Kilgharrah. “His father was killed in the same battle where Arthur was wounded. My son is now King by right. If he dies, Camelot will fall.”
She squeezed her son’s hand to comfort him. He was lying unconscious upon a low stone altar and his breathing was weak. The boy appeared to be in pain and trapped in a fitful sleep.
The dragon’s voice echoed in the huge cavern. “You have been a friend to my kin, Ygraine, but if that boy is anything like his father… I will not have a hand in his tyranny.”
“But he’s still young! I assure you that Arthur has a good heart. I can’t bear to see him die - he’s just a boy! I beg of you, please, Kilgharrah,” the queen entreated desperately.
Sir Kay, who stood beside the Queen, was about to speak when a hooded man in deep blue robes stepped out of the shadows. He stood next to the Dragon and removed his hood so that his pale face was revealed. He had dark hair, as dark as the midnight sky, but his blue eyes were bright and perceptive. Certainly he was a man who was not lacking in wisdom.
“Lady Ygraine, Sir Kay,” the man greeted them, nodding at each of them in turn. “I am Merlin, Kilgharrah’s Keeper.”
“She wishes me to revive her son,” the Dragon told him, huffing in displeasure. “His father was a tyrant. He was no friend to those of magic. I refuse to aid anyone of the same blood.”
“I know that Arthur will grow up to be a good man,” Sir Kay said fiercely, frustration showing as he tightened his hold on the hilt of his sword. “He deserves to live!”
Kilgharrah rested his clawed hand under his chin. He was lying on the cave floor, looking rather disinterested. “I do not care.”
Merlin admonished the Dragon. He placed his hand upon the creature’s scaled back. “Kilgharrah, now, you must not be so dismissive.”
“What do you propose?” the Dragon asked the man.
Ygraine interrupted then, earnest to plea her case. “I have spoken to the Lady of the Lake, Merlin. She has spoken highly of you. Surely you would aid us. You can not let my son die.”
Merlin gave Ygraine a careful look. “You’ve spoken to my daughter?”
“…your daughter?” She uttered, puzzled. The dark-haired man before her looked only a decade older than her own son. Twenty years of age at a quick guess.
“Yes, she is one of my children. Her name is Viviane, though she is best known as the Lady of the Lake. I have lived through several centuries, My Lady. My youthful appearance may deceive you of that truth, but that is the price of immortality. As it is, in my long life, I understand how it feels to lose a child. I do not wish that upon anyone,” he told her gently. He turned to address the Dragon then. “You must heal the child, Kilgharrah. I will mentor him to be a good and wise King. I promise you that you will not regret saving him.”
The Dragon breathed out fire for a moment. He clearly looked unhappy about the proposal. But he seemed to relent though, and he sighed. “Very well. I will hold you to your word, Dragonlord. You should count yourself lucky that you are one of the few I trust in this world.”
“You did choose me as your Keeper. I have not disappointed you all these years, have I?” Merlin teased softly.
The Dragon only grunted at him, grudgingly agreeing to his remark. The magical creature stood up then and placed his hand over the spot where his heart was. Looking to Merlin, who nodded encouragingly at him, the Dragon chanted a spell - one weaved of ancient magic.
Upon completing the spell, the Dragon was able to reach inside himself to pull out a part of his heart. While where his heart lay was surrounded by pure darkness, the soothing peace of an enchanting midnight sky swept by flickering stars; the colors of the rainbow - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet - shined brilliantly through as a piece of the dragon’s heart was taken out.
He held a part of his heart in his hand and with another spell; the dragon placed the live-giving heart inside Arthur’s wound. Kilgharrah let out a small burst of fire breath to seal the affected spot. One half of the Great Dragon’s heart was melded to the young boy’s heart.
“Half of my heart to make you whole,” the Dragon said solemnly. Then he turned to speak to his Keeper. “And Merlin, don’t mess this up,” he said to him in a stern tone.
“You have my word,” the Dragonlord promised him.
Merlin walked toward the altar and he rested his palm over Arthur’s brow.
“Will he be all right?” Arthur’s mother asked in deep concern.
“Yes, My Lady. He will live,” he told her, giving her a small smile.
~ * ~
496 AD
“This is my daughter, Morgana,” Merlin introduced her to Arthur. He stood by his daughter’s side. “Her mother wanted her to experience court life. She’ll be staying here for some time.”
Morgana curtsied politely, but then she gave Arthur an unimpressed gaze.
She looked up at Merlin. “Oh Father, but he doesn’t look like a king at all. He looks the same age as me.”
“Morgana,” Merlin began, in mild warning.
“But how old are you?” She asked Arthur, curious.
Arthur wasn’t happy about proving her right. “Eleven, nearly twelve.”
Morgana stared at him. “You’re terribly young.”
“You’re the same age as me!” He countered, exasperated.
“But I don’t parade around with a crown that’s too big for my head, Your Majesty,” she replied smartly. She smiled at him sweetly.
Merlin frowned, looking like he wished to be anywhere but in this room. “Her mother, Nimue, believes in raising her to speak her mind. Morgana doesn’t mean to be rude,” he explained, sounding apologetic.
“I do not plan to be beholden to any man,” Morgana declared. “I told Mother that I will one day be Queen of a great kingdom and I will rule alone. I don’t see the point to a King,” she said firmly.
“All right then…” Arthur answered her, perplexed by this strange yet pretty girl in a blue dress.
“Father believes that women shouldn’t depend wholly on a man. Don’t you, Father?” She inquired.
Merlin rubbed the back of his head, uncertain for a moment before nodding. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. I want you to be happy. And you must be on your best behavior in Camelot.”
“Why?” she wondered.
“Because it will make me happy. You don’t want to make me unhappy, right, Morgana?” Merlin asked her softly, his tone firm but a little coaxing as well.
Morgana sighed, seeming to not like having to ‘be on her best behavior.’ She gave a nod then and hugged her father.
“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing her on the head.
Arthur felt something stir within him. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
~ * ~
“Arthur, Arthur, come on. Please?” Morgana pleaded.
He crossed his arms against his chest. “I am the King. This is beneath me. I will not be experimented on.”
Morgana giggled at him from her branch seat in one of the trees. Arthur glared up at her, his feet still firm on the forest floor.
“But you still look like a boy. How many have mistaken you for a prince, I would love to know!” Morgana exclaimed.
Arthur frowned at that. “I still do not consent.”
“Ah, just a little bit?” Morgana coaxed. “Please? I’d like to practice my magic. And it’s ever so more interesting when you’re levitating a person rather than a branch or something equally dull.”
Arthur still stood his ground.
Morgana raised her hand anyway and Arthur nearly yelped when he found himself floating a few inches off the ground.
“Morgana!” He cried, annoyed.
“Walk a few feet,” she directed him. She gestured a walking motion with two fingers. “I want to see if I can keep it going.”
“Evil witch,” he muttered, but he did as Morgana requested anyway.
She smiled sweetly at him. “You’re too kind, Your Majesty.”
Arthur would admit, to no one but himself that was, that he did enjoy being able to walk on thin air. He couldn’t help but become interested in what more magic had to offer.
~ * ~
“Such a deluded little boy,” Nimue said to him.
As was common, she was wearing her red silk dress that screamed ‘seductress: tread with caution’. She came to stand beside him at the water’s edge. Arthur had been watching Merlin who was presently swimming in the lake a few feet away from shore. The Dragonlord had taken off all his clothes as he’d wanted to make the most of the cool water on a warm day.
“You can’t call me that,” Arthur told her indignantly.
She hummed at him, unaffected. “You do know that he is only being nice to you? Merlin is like that. Anyone can see that.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Arthur said, trying to sound nonchalant. He couldn’t help his gaze shifting to see Merlin’s dark head appear out of the water. His back was to them and the paleness of his skin could be seen from afar. Arthur couldn’t help but stare.
“Oh, but of course, if you insist on pretending, then go right ahead. I wonder though - have you heard about the woman who ripped a man’s heart out?”
Arthur let out a long sigh. He turned to her. “No…did the man die then?”
Nimue smiled almost wickedly at him. Arthur tried not to shudder. “Oh, of course not. The man lived, but the poor soul had lost his heart. He could not love another for the rest of his days.”
“That’s not possible. No one can live without their heart,” Arthur refuted stubbornly.
She laughed softly. She ruffled his blonde hair and Arthur glared at her, annoyed. He was fourteen and it didn’t help at all that Merlin’s wife, lover, crazy witch from hell was treating him, the King, like a child. His insecurities regarding his attachment to Merlin worsened. He hated feeling inadequate.
“Do not believe you know Merlin, Your Majesty,” Nimue told him, her formal address not lacking condescension.
In the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin duck his head in the water and disappear from sight.
~ * ~
Arthur had been eleven the last time he saw Mordred. He had thought it would be the first and only time he would see the younger boy with the cold, blue eyes. Everything had changed after his father’s pointless attack on the Druid village. His father had been killed, Arthur had been saved by Kilgharrah the Great Dragon, and he had met Merlin.
Not long after Morgana came to Camelot, Mordred followed.
Merlin hated the boy with a passion. When Arthur had asked why, Merlin did not deign him with an answer - instead saying that he needed to speak with Nimue.
Morgana did tell Arthur the story behind Mordred. You see, she had told him, Mordred was her half-brother, two years her junior. Her father couldn’t stand the sight of him because Mordred was the product of her mother’s infidelity.
Her father had been furious upon discovering that Nimue had slept with another man. He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she get rid of the bastard or he would leave her.
Her mother loved her father, Morgana did not doubt this, and her mother could not bear for him to leave her. Morgana was very young when her mother let a Druid family raise Mordred, giving the boy up to keep Merlin with her.
Her father and mother had explained all this to Morgana. Whenever her mother had provided her side of the story, her father did not spare Nimue any displeased looks. In the end, Morgana had concluded, her father had assured her that he would always be there for her. That if he ever left her mother, he would not abandon Morgana.
Arthur marveled at how Merlin and Nimue could divulge that information regarding Mordred to their daughter.
Wasn’t that just a little too much? But then, Morgana was Morgana…and Arthur could just imagine her demanding to know everything, that she not be treated as the child that she was.
Arthur only had his mother now and she did do her best to protect him from the darker secrets of the world around him. Of course, now as King, Arthur had to grow up fast and his childhood seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye after the Dragon’s gift. He had been given a second chance at life, and with that came the overwhelming responsibilities of being a leader of a kingdom. And so, his mother’s attempts to shelter him proved fruitless. Still, he did listen to his mother’s advice and respected her in a way he could never respect his father when he had been alive.
If it were not for his mother, Merlin and his other advisors, Arthur didn’t know what he’d do.
And so, Mordred being in Camelot was Nimue’s decision much to Merlin’s chagrin. The priestess thought that it would be a good change for the boy. That maybe doing some honest work would make him a better person.
…it didn’t.
And someone had killed the Druid girl who Arthur had met briefly on that fated day. Freya was the daughter of the Druid family Mordred had been given to. Her parents couldn’t say exactly who’d killed her. Seeing Mordred now, Arthur wouldn’t have been too surprised if the boy was at fault. Yes, he was younger than Freya and it seemed like a nonsensical conclusion, but the young King could sense something very wrong with the boy. He could see that Merlin saw it too.
Nimue tried to see past the darkness in her child, but her affection for Merlin weakened her resolve over time. She sided with her long time lover, for he was the father of her children and she always found Merlin’s judgment to be sound.
Merlin had pled to the Old Religion to give Freya, her life cut tragically short, a second chance at life. She was reborn as a spirit. She looked like the same young girl on the cusp of womanhood she had been when she’d died.
Merlin asked his daughter, Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, to look after the child.
And so it was, a decade after Arthur had been crowned King, Merlin took him to the Lake so that Viviane could give him the magical sword, Excalibur. Freya had been there as well, smiling softly as she herself gave Arthur a handmade crown of red and gold flowers. She had giggled as she had set it on his head, Arthur bending forward to give her better reach.
Arthur could see that Viviane was quite fond of Freya and it was a reassuring sight to see that out of a tragedy, happiness could be found.
But the truth remained - Mordred was a troubled boy.
By the time Arthur and Morgana were sixteen, Mordred had been in Camelot for almost four years.
Mordred was fourteen years old and he was beginning to truly bother Morgana.
One such incident had been the night of a feast. Arthur and Morgana had slipped out, which was just short of miraculous considering Arthur was King and Morgana certainly let her presence be felt. She enjoyed flirting with the men of the court, which bothered Arthur. He wasn’t quite sure why. But then again, what did he have to be bothered about? After all, he did notice her green eyes settle upon him every so often (not that he was doing the same thing, definitely not), and then there were times like these where they’d go off by themselves.
This time, the both of them were a bit tipsy and Morgana couldn’t stop giggling as she pulled Arthur into an alcove.
“We have to be quiet,” she whispered, smiling widely. She put her finger to her lips and then pressed the same finger over Arthur’s lips.
“We should,” Arthur breathed out.
And then, Morgana pushed him against the wall and then her hands were all over him, her mouth on his and her fingers grasping his shirt.
Arthur kissed her back then he moved lower to trail kisses along her neck. Morgana moaned softly, her hands gripping his upper arms.
They heard footsteps in the hallway and they hid themselves further, so that they wouldn’t be seen.
Morgana snuck a look and covered her mouth with her hand.
“What? Who was it?” Arthur was curious to know.
“My father. Oh he’s going to kill you!” She announced, sounding far too amused.
“No, he won’t,” Arthur said confidently. “I’m the King.”
“And he can kill you with his mind,” Morgana retorted, poking him in the chest.
“Morgana!” He said in a loud whisper, affronted.
She explained further, “He told me that if you do anything untoward with me, that he’d make you suffer unimaginable pain…for a short period of time, to be fair.”
He stared at her. “Are you serious?”
She nodded at him. “Very much so,” Morgana said, smiling a little too much.
“No, you’re not. I’m not an idiot,” He refuted.
That didn’t sound like Merlin at all…but then, did Arthur even know how the Dragonlord would act when it came to someone being with his daughter?
…
Oh gods…a sword was nothing against magic…
Morgana rolled her eyes. She shook her head at him. “Oh, honestly, Arthur. Of course I’m teasing you. And if you would like to know, my father does care for you a great deal,” she informed him.
Then she paused, appearing to debate her next words. Morgana told him, “He trusts you. You wouldn’t do anything that would cause my father to lose his good opinion of you, surely. If you do like him as I imagine you do.”
Arthur wouldn’t admit that his heart fluttered at the pronouncement that Merlin did care for him greatly. He could not deny his pleasure at hearing those words. And no, he wouldn’t dare do anything that would result in Merlin being mad at him. He couldn’t bear the thought if it did ever come to that.
When Arthur remained silent, Morgana noted, “Either way, I’m sure you have a high pain tolerance. Great warrior like you, of course you do,” She assured him, winking at him.
Then she started kissing him again.
“You’re not helping,” he muttered in resignation.
“I’ll be there to nurse your wounds,” Morgana answered softly, smiling at him as she caressed his cheek.
They did go to Arthur’s chambers to have a more private place to be together. They were usually careful, never venturing as far as doing the actual act. It was heavy snogging most of the time.
Stumbling into the dark of his chambers, they didn’t see that Mordred was in the room until they fell back upon the bed.
Morgana was incensed and ran her half-brother out of the room.
She returned to Arthur’s chambers, frustrated and annoyed. She told him that Mordred was jealous of Arthur for being close to her as Mordred harbored a growing affection for her himself. But the affection disturbed Morgana as it was the sort of affection that verged on obsessive. And Mordred was her half-brother after all, even if they had just met a few years ago. It was just all wrong.
Arthur knew that it was best not to argue with her when she was in this mood. He let her drag him outside because she felt like looking at the stars. The peace and beauty of the night made them forget, at least for a short while, of Mordred’s unwanted intrusion.
Arthur grew to hate Mordred as much as Morgana and Merlin did. The blond vowed to himself that one day, he would make sure Mordred wouldn’t trouble another person ever again.
~ * ~
“She can’t stay here,” Morgana asserted, her hands gripping the white sheets tightly, twisting them.
“Morgana, sweetheart, that doesn’t have to be the only option,” Merlin entreated. He was standing, holding the child in his arms as he paced the room.
Arthur sat by her bedside, his hands covering his face. He was exhausted. He didn’t know what to do.
“Father, you heard as clear as day what Mother discovered about the child,” she said briskly. “She needs to start her magic training as soon as feasibly possible. The best place for her is with less people, with Mother. I will go with my daughter as well, of course. I can not bear to be in Camelot any longer.” She gave Arthur a pointed look at that.
“Don’t I get a say?” Arthur cut in, frustrated.
Morgana looked to him. “No, she’ll be a danger to you. And it’s your fault.”
“Morgana, I’ve told you--” Arthur began tiredly, his brow knitted in consternation.
“This is not the time--” Merlin interjected sharply.
But Morgana persisted nevertheless. “Do you see, Arthur, do you see what you’ve done? You - I know you have never, never…not as I have loved you. We all know where your heart lies,” she said bitterly, the turmoil of her emotions after giving birth guiding her words.
Arthur had opened his mouth, ready to defend himself when Merlin intervened.
“Enough! The both of you!” Merlin admonished them sternly, not wanting this to turn into a full-fledged argument.
The baby started to cry and Merlin focused on shushing the child, trying to get her to settle down.
Morgana glared at Arthur and said softly, but her words were tight with tension. “I named her Kahlan. She is my child, not yours. Never yours.”
Merlin looked ready to say something, but a stricken Arthur abruptly stood up and left the room.
~ * ~
502 AD
Not long before Morgana planned to leave Camelot with her and Arthur’s daughter, an 18-year old Arthur ventured into Merlin’s chambers. He was feeling anxious.
He needed to speak to Merlin privately, to make sure that the two of them had an understanding. That Merlin didn’t hate him.
When he entered Merlin’s room, Arthur found his advisor writing in his journal, and rubbing his brow as if in thought. He was muttering to himself, looking frustrated - about what, Arthur wasn’t sure. Hopefully it wasn’t about Morgana’s predicament because then, certainly, this was not a good time for Arthur to discuss the matter with him.
Merlin looked up when Arthur cleared his throat. The Dragonlord set aside his journal and then gave the blond his full attention. His hands were clasped together upon the table. He did not show any sign of being displeased with Arthur, and he knew how bad of an actor his advisor was. So maybe this talk wouldn’t be so harrowing.
“Your Majesty, to what do I owe this visit?” Merlin inquired lightly.
The dark-haired sorcerer waved his hand so that the chair across from him moved a few inches from the table. He invited Arthur to sit down upon it.
Arthur frowned, scratching the back of his head. “I think…considering the new situation now, that we can be a little less formal. And no one else is here after all…”
“Shall I call you son, then? Is that what you’d like?” Merlin asked him, a mischievous smile forming on his lips.
Arthur was startled for a moment, horrified. “No, no, gods no… just ‘Arthur.’ Just…this is what I came here to discuss with you. Are you okay with what I did with Morgana? And the child?”
Merlin appeared to contemplate what Arthur had said and answered, “I’ve had months to come to terms with this - ever since my daughter became pregnant. I thought you knew how I felt about the situation.”
Arthur nodded. “Yes, but now… with Kahlan being born, and Morgana set to leave with her…I just wanted to see if anything has changed. I told you that I’m sorry for what I’ve done and...”
His advisor held up his hand to halt the king’s words. “Arthur,” Merlin began quietly.
“Yes?” He said, feeling nervous all of a sudden.
“I have had some time to accept this predicament. You have apologized to me and Morgana numerous times. I know you’re remorseful. That said, I certainly do not wish that Kahlan had never been born. No matter how she was brought into this world, I remain a happy grandfather. What is done is done, and I hope that when Kahlan grows older, she will be proud of who her parents are.” He gave Arthur a small smile.
“I was thinking of marrying Morgana…” Arthur ventured.
Merlin shook his head. “I know you believe it to be the right gesture, but my daughter has obligations to attend to that are beyond Camelot. It is just as well that she returns home to Avalon. Nimue will help her to raise the child and prepare Morgana for her duty.”
Arthur’s brow creased. He didn’t know what Merlin meant. “What duty? Morgana hasn’t told me anything about it.”
“If Morgana wishes to tell you, she will. It is her decision,” He told him, quietly shutting down any more inquiry on the subject. Merlin raised his voice as he continued on, “As far as her future prospects, you know how Morgana is. She does not fancy being sold like a prize.”
Arthur recalled Morgana’s defiant words when he had first met her: “I do not plan to be beholden to any man.” Even now, she abided by those words with a passion.
Merlin said confidently, “I have faith in my daughter that she will be fine. But if she so chooses, then she will be able to marry someone of magic kin. Matters of matrimony work differently among the magic community. It is not so much about the woman’s honour as it is about her magical pedigree - how great a magic she could provide to a child she bears. So, that shouldn’t be a problem for her.”
Arthur sighed, and for wont of needing something to focus on, he circled his finger about the rings on the dark wooden table. He said, his head down as he felt nervous about his next words. “The whole matter was an accident. I did not wish to have a child with Morgana, at least, not now. But I-I do care for her. I love her.”
“Arthur, I know your heart is in the right place, but my daughter has told me that she loves you more than you do her. That your heart belongs to another.”
Merlin gave Arthur a meaningful look.
“Merlin, I--”
Merlin interrupted him, “I know, but now is not the time. I will do my best to convince Morgana to allow you to be a part of your daughter’s life. I am sure that once everything settles down, she will agree to it.”
“Morgana knows how I feel about her. How can it be wrong to love more than one person?”
“You are not the first to feel an attraction for me, Your Majesty,” Merlin said, his words almost cold to Arthur’s ears.
“But I-this is different,” Arthur insisted.
“Is it?” Merlin asked idly, a wandering question asked to no one and everyone.
Arthur wasn’t sure how to answer that.
Swiftly, and with intent, his advisor changed the subject, “You are a good man, My Lord. You are doing an admirable job of making Camelot a great kingdom. Now your mother has been ill for some time as you well know. She wishes that you marry so that what happened with my daughter will not be repeated with another woman. You are already eighteen, and it’s time to seriously consider having a legitimate heir, a son. There is the Lady Guinevere of Gwynedd…” He suggested.
Arthur tried not to make an undignified, exaggerated sigh. One of his best knights and good friend, Sir Lancelot, was particularly fond of Lady Guinevere.
But if he had to marry for the sake of Camelot and to make his mother happy (at least that she would see him married before her ailment took an irreversible turn for the worst), then he would.
Though Arthur was certain that the only woman he’d ever truly love would be Morgana…
She was the mother of his child after all.
~ * ~
Arthur and Merlin looked out from the castle ramparts as Morgana with Kahlan in her arms left Camelot in a horse-drawn carriage. A small escort of knights went with her at Arthur’s behest. Morgana’s mother, Nimue, was with her as well to help look after her granddaughter on the journey home.
Arthur had asked Merlin then, just a curious query, as to why he stayed with Nimue after her infidelity.
His advisor looked him right in the eye and said to him, “Because she is the mother of my children. And while she is a flawed woman, I know that she loves me. I can see it in her eyes. She takes my advice to heart, and she cares for me no matter my own flaws.”
Arthur was baffled. “Your flaws…what do you mean?”
Merlin only smiled thinly at him. “I must go check on Kilgharrah, Your Majesty--”
“It’s Arthur…” Arthur corrected abruptly. “Merlin, would you please just…”
But the Dragonlord just squeezed his shoulder in a friendly way and said, “Take care of your heart.”
And then he walked away from the King.
~ * ~
Morgana had wept suddenly. It was the first time she had come to visit Arthur at Camelot with their daughter, who was just starting to crawl.
Arthur had taken Kahlan in his arms, removing her from Merlin’s grasp. The Dragonlord positively doted on his granddaughter and he was always ready to lay his attentions on her. Arthur knew that his advisor even made trips back home, to Avalon, to check on his granddaughter.
Arthur held his daughter in his arms and Kahlan gurgled happily. Her tiny hand reached out to grasp one of Arthur’s fingers. Her grip was strong as she held on and Arthur could already tell that she had a lot of Morgana in her, and it wasn’t just her dark as night hair.
But his daughter had his blue eyes, and they almost twinkled as she looked up at him. Arthur couldn’t resist cooing back at her, pleased to see that she hadn’t started crying.
But upon watching Arthur interact with their daughter, Morgana had inexplicably burst into tears. She rushed out of her father’s rooms.
Arthur had exchanged a puzzled look with Merlin who had advised him to go after her. He’d given Kahlan to Merlin and then left to find her.
He found Morgana in his chambers. Arthur had passed the Lady Guinevere, who he would soon wed, in the hall and she pointed the way for him. An understanding look graced her face at her future husband’s predicament. For that, Arthur had been eternally grateful. Then again, she had Lancelot.
“Morgana, what’s wrong?” He asked her upon entering his chambers. She was standing by the window and when Arthur reached her, she spoke.
“She’s just…” Morgana paused, sighing. “I can see how well Kahlan takes to you, and it’s just so hard. She can be a danger to you, Arthur. And you’re too important to lose.”
“We will find a way to handle it,” Arthur reassured her, doing his best to inspire confidence within her. “Kahlan will grow up at Avalon, and she will visit here. I won’t be alone with her…I know you’ll make sure of that. I do ask that at one point, I do have some private time with my own daughter.”
“When my mother and I feel that she has her power under control and Kahlan feels comfortable around you, then yes.” She nodded.
“Right…then, see, it’ll be all right, Morgana. I’ll either be with you or Merlin at first…”
“Or my mother,” Morgana contributed slyly.
Arthur frowned. “Maybe not Nimue.”
Morgana shook her head, looking amused. “Oh, the look on your face!”
“I’m positive that your mother contemplates tying me up and placing me on a stone altar, to see what sacrificing me to the Old Religion will give her,” Arthur asserted.
“Actually,” Morgana teased, smiling at him, “Father advised her against doing that.”
Arthur stared at her. “That was not funny.”
“It was a little…” she remarked, grinning at him now.
“Morgana!” Arthur exclaimed, affronted at her laughter at his expense.
Somehow, they ended up tackling each other to the ground. Morgana was on top of Arthur, and the both of them looked at one another before she kissed him.
~ * ~
Kahlan was sixteen years old when Arthur took her to visit his mother’s grave. It marked the first time that Arthur had spent time alone with his daughter. Bandits had waylaid them, which was not too worrying as the group had appeared to be incompetent fighters.
Kahlan knew how to fight with weaponry. She had been taught to do so at Avalon where she lived with her mother and grandmother, that is, Nimue (privately, Arthur called her the witch from hell because he always felt uneasy around her). His daughter always had two daggers on her person. She had her magical abilities as well, but Arthur had been expressly told by Morgana that their daughter was more prone to using her Confessor power over other magicks. It was her natural weapon against any foe.
Unfortunately, Kahlan had been spurred to use her power on pure instinct. One of the men was about to attack Arthur from behind and his daughter had wrapped her hand around the man’s neck, unleashing her power.
Turning quickly, Arthur watched as the man’s eyes went black for a moment before returning to a muddy brown color.
Wavering slightly in place as if she were about to faint, Kahlan looked at her father. She looked shocked at what she had just done in front of him. He returned the look in kind, unsure how to take it. He knew what could happen, but to see the Confession before his eyes was a different experience entirely.
The man, under Confession, drew his sword on Arthur, ready to attack.
“Stop it!” Kahlan exclaimed.
“But he was going to hurt you, mistress,” the man said.
Kahlan again told him to stand his ground, and the man did.
The few bandits who remained saw what was happening and wizened up rather fast. “She did something to him! She’s a witch!” They cried in alarm.
Arthur saw his daughter give him a quick nod, her hands trembling, but her expression was sure.
Feeling like a heavy weight was bearing down on him; Arthur wielded his sword and killed the Confessed man.
The now smaller group of brigands scattered, fearful of Kahlan’s power, as they distanced themselves from the young woman.
Later, Arthur reassured his daughter that this did not change how much he loved her. That Arthur had known and accepted that he would, at one point, see what she could do. Kahlan told him that she hated how she had to fear love because of her power. Arthur’s heart ached for his daughter, but not long afterwards, Merlin had assured him that Kahlan would be all right. Merlin would make sure of it.
Part 3
King Arthur felt his heart beat slower; the noise seemed to fade around him as the pain hit. He knew, without a doubt, that the end was near. He had served Camelot well during his long reign, and now the mortal wound from Mordred’s blade would be the death of him. It was a small consolation that he had killed Mordred before he could succumb to his own fatal injury.
The king smiled, eyes trying to remain open, as he saw Merlin reach him.
“Your Majesty,” The Dragonlord uttered in grave concern. He collapsed beside his King, and he cradled his head in his lap.
“My time is at its end,” Arthur whispered what he was sure Merlin already knew.
“I wish it wasn’t,” Merlin said plaintively, sounding like a lost child and not the immortal Dragonlord that he truly was.
The king sighed weakly, and he reached up so that his fingers touched his oldest friend’s cheek, the roughness of his sword-callused hand contrasting starkly with the impossible smoothness of the ageless sorcerer’s face.
Merlin clasped his hand over Arthur’s, and he leaned into the caress as tears streaked his face and his wise, blue eyes were darkened with sadness.
Arthur closed his eyes briefly before he asked of Merlin, “Tell Guinevere that I love her, and that I wish her well.”
The Dragonlord gave a solemn nod. “Yes, I will tell her so,” he promised him.
The king coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. He hung on though, his determination seeing him through for as long as he needed it. “Merlin,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes?”
“I have not loved another as much as I have come to love you,” Arthur declared, his words true and spoke of what he held dear to his heart.
“I - I love you, too,” Merlin said quietly, sincerely. The turmoil of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He took a deep, calming breath and then with his voice wavering only slightly, he said resolutely, “May the spirits be with you, and one day, I will see you again, I promise you, My Lord.”
Gently, Merlin grasped Arthur’s hand, still upon his face, and set it down on the ground. Unwilling to let go, his hand remained over his king’s and he stroked the hand, feeling it well-worn by age and battle.
“The Dragon…” The king wondered, concerned about how this would affect the creature.
The Dragonlord gave him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand in a comforting grip. “He will always be a part of you, always.”
Arthur smiled faintly back at him. As he looked upon the pale face of his friend and mentor; King Arthur saw a long ago memory flash before his eyes of a Dragon giving him life and a tender kiss upon his brow.
The King of Camelot closed his eyes for the final time.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered in a small voice, the name like an anchor, a promise. “Good bye, my King,” he said quietly.
~ * ~
Past (495 AD):
Chaos reigned as Prince Arthur watched the small Druid village go up in flame. The villagers rushed to save and defend themselves as best as they could against the King’s men. No matter how much effort his father put into instilling an eleven year old Arthur with the same beliefs, the prince could not comprehend how this battle was justified.
Even women and children were caught in the crossfire. Eager to help, he pulled away from his mentor, Sir Kay, who shouted at him to come back, that it was foolish of him to head into such a danger. But Arthur simply couldn’t stand by and watch. He wanted to help. Checking to see that his sword was secure at his waist, he entered the battle.
Almost immediately, he found two Druid children, a girl his age and a younger boy. While they both had dark hair, the boy’s blue eyes were startling and almost cold where the girl’s plainer brown eyes were warmer. They were huddled together, pressed up against a dilapidated dwelling. Arthur caught sight of the boy and girl as one of his father’s men attacked them, drawing his sharp blade upon the children. The prince rushed to place himself between the offender and the Druid children. He was young, yes, and still learning, but Arthur wielded his sword as Sir Kay had taught him against the older man.
The young prince succeeded in disarming the other man, and with all the force he could muster, he plunged his sword into the soft flesh of the man’s stomach. The man fell down, defeated.
The boy and girl had thanked Arthur, the girl telling him her and the boy’s name. But the fight was ongoing, and there was no time for more than hurried introductions. The girl was named Freya and the boy’s name was Mordred.
With little warning, a broad-shouldered man came down on Arthur, striking him with his weapon, stabbing him. And then all the boy could feel was an overwhelming pain.
Arthur could barely hear Sir Kay rushing to him, calling to him. He pleaded with the boy that he hold on just a little longer.
The prince tried his best, but he was so tired and he only wished for the pain to cease. He couldn’t resist surrendering to the inviting darkness.
*
Arthur opened his eyes, disconcertedly taking in his surroundings.
“Hello,” Merlin said to him softly, brushing away stray locks of hair from his forehead.
“Hi,” Arthur said in a small voice, his tone uncertain.
Merlin smiled down on him. Arthur felt reassured by his presence, though he wasn’t sure why. And the dark-haired man’s eyes, his blue eyes, didn’t startle the boy as Mordred’s had in that fleeting moment. Here, the man’s eyes held a warmth to them not dissimilar to those of the Druid girl’s. They reminded Arthur of pleasant things.
And so when Merlin leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss upon his brow, Arthur found that he did not mind the gesture of affection. Even though the man was a stranger to him, Arthur appreciated the small kindness after believing he would die. But he didn’t feel like he was at death’s door anymore. He smiled at his mother who held his hand in hers.
“What does this mean, Dragonlord?” Sir Kay wanted to know. “What will this mean for Arthur?”
The Great Dragon interjected before Merlin could speak. “It means, Knight, that while I live, he will live. If one of us shall die, then the other will die too,” he explained, which sounded more like grumbling than anything else.
“My work is finished, but your work has just begun, Merlin. My soul will be damned if the child fails to rule with a good heart. Good luck,” Kilgharrah wished him in a bit of a sulky tone.
Merlin sighed, hearing the Dragon’s words. “Rest now,” he spoke quietly to the child. He swept his hand over the boy’s face.
And the young King Arthur fell into a peaceful sleep.
~ * ~
497 AD
“Sweetheart, your dress is ripped,” Merlin said with a resigned sigh.
“Arthur and I were sword fighting. I beat him,” Morgana said proudly.
Merlin’s eyes twinkled at that.
“She did not!” Arthur exclaimed, affronted. “I let you win, Morgana!”
“You did not!” Morgana denied.
Arthur addressed Merlin then. “I am telling the truth. I went easy on her. She’s not a man after all.”
“Take that back!” She demanded, rising from her seat and pointing her finger at him. “Father, he’s being horrid to me!” Morgana said fiercely.
Merlin took a deep breath and then released it. He spoke calmly, “Morgana dear, please sit down. And if you plan on beating the king in sword fighting, please wear the appropriate attire. You don’t want to ruin your dress, my dear.”
Morgana looked smug as she looked to Arthur. “Ah! See, I was right!”
Arthur grumbled. “Well, of course he’d say that. He’s your father. But I know I’m right.”
Morgana looked questioningly at her father. “But you did mean it, didn’t you? You weren’t just trying to make me feel better?”
“I have every confidence you are quite capable of doing whatever you set your mind to,” he said easily. “I believe His Majesty is contending with a bruised ego, I fear?” Merlin mused. Arthur looked betrayed. “Do not worry, Sire. It’ll pass with time.”
Morgana giggled at the comment and even Merlin chuckled a bit. Arthur sat in his chair, arms crossed against his chest and a firm frown on his face.
“Not fair,” he muttered.
“Oh, poor Arthur,” Morgana remarked, and then she went over to him, kissing him on the cheek quickly.
When they were all settled, Merlin began to go into the memory transfer spell he would do with Arthur. Morgana was there as it was an educational lesson for her, to see how such a spell worked.
Two years into his reign, Arthur had asked Merlin if he was able to give Arthur the memory of when Kilgharrah gave him life. Arthur wondered if it had been possible to do so with magic. As he’d been unconscious through most of the event, Arthur was interested in finding out what he was missing.
Fortunately, it was possible and here they were. Merlin told Arthur to close his eyes and to relax his mind, only focusing on the memory he wanted. His mentor placed one hand on either side of his forehead and then Arthur could see the memory unravel in his mind’s eye.
“Please, he will die without your help,” Queen Ygraine pleaded with the obstinate Great Dragon, Kilgharrah. “His father was killed in the same battle where Arthur was wounded. My son is now King by right. If he dies, Camelot will fall.”
She squeezed her son’s hand to comfort him. He was lying unconscious upon a low stone altar and his breathing was weak. The boy appeared to be in pain and trapped in a fitful sleep.
The dragon’s voice echoed in the huge cavern. “You have been a friend to my kin, Ygraine, but if that boy is anything like his father… I will not have a hand in his tyranny.”
“But he’s still young! I assure you that Arthur has a good heart. I can’t bear to see him die - he’s just a boy! I beg of you, please, Kilgharrah,” the queen entreated desperately.
Sir Kay, who stood beside the Queen, was about to speak when a hooded man in deep blue robes stepped out of the shadows. He stood next to the Dragon and removed his hood so that his pale face was revealed. He had dark hair, as dark as the midnight sky, but his blue eyes were bright and perceptive. Certainly he was a man who was not lacking in wisdom.
“Lady Ygraine, Sir Kay,” the man greeted them, nodding at each of them in turn. “I am Merlin, Kilgharrah’s Keeper.”
“She wishes me to revive her son,” the Dragon told him, huffing in displeasure. “His father was a tyrant. He was no friend to those of magic. I refuse to aid anyone of the same blood.”
“I know that Arthur will grow up to be a good man,” Sir Kay said fiercely, frustration showing as he tightened his hold on the hilt of his sword. “He deserves to live!”
Kilgharrah rested his clawed hand under his chin. He was lying on the cave floor, looking rather disinterested. “I do not care.”
Merlin admonished the Dragon. He placed his hand upon the creature’s scaled back. “Kilgharrah, now, you must not be so dismissive.”
“What do you propose?” the Dragon asked the man.
Ygraine interrupted then, earnest to plea her case. “I have spoken to the Lady of the Lake, Merlin. She has spoken highly of you. Surely you would aid us. You can not let my son die.”
Merlin gave Ygraine a careful look. “You’ve spoken to my daughter?”
“…your daughter?” She uttered, puzzled. The dark-haired man before her looked only a decade older than her own son. Twenty years of age at a quick guess.
“Yes, she is one of my children. Her name is Viviane, though she is best known as the Lady of the Lake. I have lived through several centuries, My Lady. My youthful appearance may deceive you of that truth, but that is the price of immortality. As it is, in my long life, I understand how it feels to lose a child. I do not wish that upon anyone,” he told her gently. He turned to address the Dragon then. “You must heal the child, Kilgharrah. I will mentor him to be a good and wise King. I promise you that you will not regret saving him.”
The Dragon breathed out fire for a moment. He clearly looked unhappy about the proposal. But he seemed to relent though, and he sighed. “Very well. I will hold you to your word, Dragonlord. You should count yourself lucky that you are one of the few I trust in this world.”
“You did choose me as your Keeper. I have not disappointed you all these years, have I?” Merlin teased softly.
The Dragon only grunted at him, grudgingly agreeing to his remark. The magical creature stood up then and placed his hand over the spot where his heart was. Looking to Merlin, who nodded encouragingly at him, the Dragon chanted a spell - one weaved of ancient magic.
Upon completing the spell, the Dragon was able to reach inside himself to pull out a part of his heart. While where his heart lay was surrounded by pure darkness, the soothing peace of an enchanting midnight sky swept by flickering stars; the colors of the rainbow - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet - shined brilliantly through as a piece of the dragon’s heart was taken out.
He held a part of his heart in his hand and with another spell; the dragon placed the live-giving heart inside Arthur’s wound. Kilgharrah let out a small burst of fire breath to seal the affected spot. One half of the Great Dragon’s heart was melded to the young boy’s heart.
“Half of my heart to make you whole,” the Dragon said solemnly. Then he turned to speak to his Keeper. “And Merlin, don’t mess this up,” he said to him in a stern tone.
“You have my word,” the Dragonlord promised him.
Merlin walked toward the altar and he rested his palm over Arthur’s brow.
“Will he be all right?” Arthur’s mother asked in deep concern.
“Yes, My Lady. He will live,” he told her, giving her a small smile.
~ * ~
496 AD
“This is my daughter, Morgana,” Merlin introduced her to Arthur. He stood by his daughter’s side. “Her mother wanted her to experience court life. She’ll be staying here for some time.”
Morgana curtsied politely, but then she gave Arthur an unimpressed gaze.
She looked up at Merlin. “Oh Father, but he doesn’t look like a king at all. He looks the same age as me.”
“Morgana,” Merlin began, in mild warning.
“But how old are you?” She asked Arthur, curious.
Arthur wasn’t happy about proving her right. “Eleven, nearly twelve.”
Morgana stared at him. “You’re terribly young.”
“You’re the same age as me!” He countered, exasperated.
“But I don’t parade around with a crown that’s too big for my head, Your Majesty,” she replied smartly. She smiled at him sweetly.
Merlin frowned, looking like he wished to be anywhere but in this room. “Her mother, Nimue, believes in raising her to speak her mind. Morgana doesn’t mean to be rude,” he explained, sounding apologetic.
“I do not plan to be beholden to any man,” Morgana declared. “I told Mother that I will one day be Queen of a great kingdom and I will rule alone. I don’t see the point to a King,” she said firmly.
“All right then…” Arthur answered her, perplexed by this strange yet pretty girl in a blue dress.
“Father believes that women shouldn’t depend wholly on a man. Don’t you, Father?” She inquired.
Merlin rubbed the back of his head, uncertain for a moment before nodding. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. I want you to be happy. And you must be on your best behavior in Camelot.”
“Why?” she wondered.
“Because it will make me happy. You don’t want to make me unhappy, right, Morgana?” Merlin asked her softly, his tone firm but a little coaxing as well.
Morgana sighed, seeming to not like having to ‘be on her best behavior.’ She gave a nod then and hugged her father.
“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing her on the head.
Arthur felt something stir within him. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.
~ * ~
“Arthur, Arthur, come on. Please?” Morgana pleaded.
He crossed his arms against his chest. “I am the King. This is beneath me. I will not be experimented on.”
Morgana giggled at him from her branch seat in one of the trees. Arthur glared up at her, his feet still firm on the forest floor.
“But you still look like a boy. How many have mistaken you for a prince, I would love to know!” Morgana exclaimed.
Arthur frowned at that. “I still do not consent.”
“Ah, just a little bit?” Morgana coaxed. “Please? I’d like to practice my magic. And it’s ever so more interesting when you’re levitating a person rather than a branch or something equally dull.”
Arthur still stood his ground.
Morgana raised her hand anyway and Arthur nearly yelped when he found himself floating a few inches off the ground.
“Morgana!” He cried, annoyed.
“Walk a few feet,” she directed him. She gestured a walking motion with two fingers. “I want to see if I can keep it going.”
“Evil witch,” he muttered, but he did as Morgana requested anyway.
She smiled sweetly at him. “You’re too kind, Your Majesty.”
Arthur would admit, to no one but himself that was, that he did enjoy being able to walk on thin air. He couldn’t help but become interested in what more magic had to offer.
~ * ~
“Such a deluded little boy,” Nimue said to him.
As was common, she was wearing her red silk dress that screamed ‘seductress: tread with caution’. She came to stand beside him at the water’s edge. Arthur had been watching Merlin who was presently swimming in the lake a few feet away from shore. The Dragonlord had taken off all his clothes as he’d wanted to make the most of the cool water on a warm day.
“You can’t call me that,” Arthur told her indignantly.
She hummed at him, unaffected. “You do know that he is only being nice to you? Merlin is like that. Anyone can see that.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Arthur said, trying to sound nonchalant. He couldn’t help his gaze shifting to see Merlin’s dark head appear out of the water. His back was to them and the paleness of his skin could be seen from afar. Arthur couldn’t help but stare.
“Oh, but of course, if you insist on pretending, then go right ahead. I wonder though - have you heard about the woman who ripped a man’s heart out?”
Arthur let out a long sigh. He turned to her. “No…did the man die then?”
Nimue smiled almost wickedly at him. Arthur tried not to shudder. “Oh, of course not. The man lived, but the poor soul had lost his heart. He could not love another for the rest of his days.”
“That’s not possible. No one can live without their heart,” Arthur refuted stubbornly.
She laughed softly. She ruffled his blonde hair and Arthur glared at her, annoyed. He was fourteen and it didn’t help at all that Merlin’s wife, lover, crazy witch from hell was treating him, the King, like a child. His insecurities regarding his attachment to Merlin worsened. He hated feeling inadequate.
“Do not believe you know Merlin, Your Majesty,” Nimue told him, her formal address not lacking condescension.
In the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin duck his head in the water and disappear from sight.
~ * ~
Arthur had been eleven the last time he saw Mordred. He had thought it would be the first and only time he would see the younger boy with the cold, blue eyes. Everything had changed after his father’s pointless attack on the Druid village. His father had been killed, Arthur had been saved by Kilgharrah the Great Dragon, and he had met Merlin.
Not long after Morgana came to Camelot, Mordred followed.
Merlin hated the boy with a passion. When Arthur had asked why, Merlin did not deign him with an answer - instead saying that he needed to speak with Nimue.
Morgana did tell Arthur the story behind Mordred. You see, she had told him, Mordred was her half-brother, two years her junior. Her father couldn’t stand the sight of him because Mordred was the product of her mother’s infidelity.
Her father had been furious upon discovering that Nimue had slept with another man. He had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she get rid of the bastard or he would leave her.
Her mother loved her father, Morgana did not doubt this, and her mother could not bear for him to leave her. Morgana was very young when her mother let a Druid family raise Mordred, giving the boy up to keep Merlin with her.
Her father and mother had explained all this to Morgana. Whenever her mother had provided her side of the story, her father did not spare Nimue any displeased looks. In the end, Morgana had concluded, her father had assured her that he would always be there for her. That if he ever left her mother, he would not abandon Morgana.
Arthur marveled at how Merlin and Nimue could divulge that information regarding Mordred to their daughter.
Wasn’t that just a little too much? But then, Morgana was Morgana…and Arthur could just imagine her demanding to know everything, that she not be treated as the child that she was.
Arthur only had his mother now and she did do her best to protect him from the darker secrets of the world around him. Of course, now as King, Arthur had to grow up fast and his childhood seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye after the Dragon’s gift. He had been given a second chance at life, and with that came the overwhelming responsibilities of being a leader of a kingdom. And so, his mother’s attempts to shelter him proved fruitless. Still, he did listen to his mother’s advice and respected her in a way he could never respect his father when he had been alive.
If it were not for his mother, Merlin and his other advisors, Arthur didn’t know what he’d do.
And so, Mordred being in Camelot was Nimue’s decision much to Merlin’s chagrin. The priestess thought that it would be a good change for the boy. That maybe doing some honest work would make him a better person.
…it didn’t.
And someone had killed the Druid girl who Arthur had met briefly on that fated day. Freya was the daughter of the Druid family Mordred had been given to. Her parents couldn’t say exactly who’d killed her. Seeing Mordred now, Arthur wouldn’t have been too surprised if the boy was at fault. Yes, he was younger than Freya and it seemed like a nonsensical conclusion, but the young King could sense something very wrong with the boy. He could see that Merlin saw it too.
Nimue tried to see past the darkness in her child, but her affection for Merlin weakened her resolve over time. She sided with her long time lover, for he was the father of her children and she always found Merlin’s judgment to be sound.
Merlin had pled to the Old Religion to give Freya, her life cut tragically short, a second chance at life. She was reborn as a spirit. She looked like the same young girl on the cusp of womanhood she had been when she’d died.
Merlin asked his daughter, Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, to look after the child.
And so it was, a decade after Arthur had been crowned King, Merlin took him to the Lake so that Viviane could give him the magical sword, Excalibur. Freya had been there as well, smiling softly as she herself gave Arthur a handmade crown of red and gold flowers. She had giggled as she had set it on his head, Arthur bending forward to give her better reach.
Arthur could see that Viviane was quite fond of Freya and it was a reassuring sight to see that out of a tragedy, happiness could be found.
But the truth remained - Mordred was a troubled boy.
By the time Arthur and Morgana were sixteen, Mordred had been in Camelot for almost four years.
Mordred was fourteen years old and he was beginning to truly bother Morgana.
One such incident had been the night of a feast. Arthur and Morgana had slipped out, which was just short of miraculous considering Arthur was King and Morgana certainly let her presence be felt. She enjoyed flirting with the men of the court, which bothered Arthur. He wasn’t quite sure why. But then again, what did he have to be bothered about? After all, he did notice her green eyes settle upon him every so often (not that he was doing the same thing, definitely not), and then there were times like these where they’d go off by themselves.
This time, the both of them were a bit tipsy and Morgana couldn’t stop giggling as she pulled Arthur into an alcove.
“We have to be quiet,” she whispered, smiling widely. She put her finger to her lips and then pressed the same finger over Arthur’s lips.
“We should,” Arthur breathed out.
And then, Morgana pushed him against the wall and then her hands were all over him, her mouth on his and her fingers grasping his shirt.
Arthur kissed her back then he moved lower to trail kisses along her neck. Morgana moaned softly, her hands gripping his upper arms.
They heard footsteps in the hallway and they hid themselves further, so that they wouldn’t be seen.
Morgana snuck a look and covered her mouth with her hand.
“What? Who was it?” Arthur was curious to know.
“My father. Oh he’s going to kill you!” She announced, sounding far too amused.
“No, he won’t,” Arthur said confidently. “I’m the King.”
“And he can kill you with his mind,” Morgana retorted, poking him in the chest.
“Morgana!” He said in a loud whisper, affronted.
She explained further, “He told me that if you do anything untoward with me, that he’d make you suffer unimaginable pain…for a short period of time, to be fair.”
He stared at her. “Are you serious?”
She nodded at him. “Very much so,” Morgana said, smiling a little too much.
“No, you’re not. I’m not an idiot,” He refuted.
That didn’t sound like Merlin at all…but then, did Arthur even know how the Dragonlord would act when it came to someone being with his daughter?
…
Oh gods…a sword was nothing against magic…
Morgana rolled her eyes. She shook her head at him. “Oh, honestly, Arthur. Of course I’m teasing you. And if you would like to know, my father does care for you a great deal,” she informed him.
Then she paused, appearing to debate her next words. Morgana told him, “He trusts you. You wouldn’t do anything that would cause my father to lose his good opinion of you, surely. If you do like him as I imagine you do.”
Arthur wouldn’t admit that his heart fluttered at the pronouncement that Merlin did care for him greatly. He could not deny his pleasure at hearing those words. And no, he wouldn’t dare do anything that would result in Merlin being mad at him. He couldn’t bear the thought if it did ever come to that.
When Arthur remained silent, Morgana noted, “Either way, I’m sure you have a high pain tolerance. Great warrior like you, of course you do,” She assured him, winking at him.
Then she started kissing him again.
“You’re not helping,” he muttered in resignation.
“I’ll be there to nurse your wounds,” Morgana answered softly, smiling at him as she caressed his cheek.
They did go to Arthur’s chambers to have a more private place to be together. They were usually careful, never venturing as far as doing the actual act. It was heavy snogging most of the time.
Stumbling into the dark of his chambers, they didn’t see that Mordred was in the room until they fell back upon the bed.
Morgana was incensed and ran her half-brother out of the room.
She returned to Arthur’s chambers, frustrated and annoyed. She told him that Mordred was jealous of Arthur for being close to her as Mordred harbored a growing affection for her himself. But the affection disturbed Morgana as it was the sort of affection that verged on obsessive. And Mordred was her half-brother after all, even if they had just met a few years ago. It was just all wrong.
Arthur knew that it was best not to argue with her when she was in this mood. He let her drag him outside because she felt like looking at the stars. The peace and beauty of the night made them forget, at least for a short while, of Mordred’s unwanted intrusion.
Arthur grew to hate Mordred as much as Morgana and Merlin did. The blond vowed to himself that one day, he would make sure Mordred wouldn’t trouble another person ever again.
~ * ~
“She can’t stay here,” Morgana asserted, her hands gripping the white sheets tightly, twisting them.
“Morgana, sweetheart, that doesn’t have to be the only option,” Merlin entreated. He was standing, holding the child in his arms as he paced the room.
Arthur sat by her bedside, his hands covering his face. He was exhausted. He didn’t know what to do.
“Father, you heard as clear as day what Mother discovered about the child,” she said briskly. “She needs to start her magic training as soon as feasibly possible. The best place for her is with less people, with Mother. I will go with my daughter as well, of course. I can not bear to be in Camelot any longer.” She gave Arthur a pointed look at that.
“Don’t I get a say?” Arthur cut in, frustrated.
Morgana looked to him. “No, she’ll be a danger to you. And it’s your fault.”
“Morgana, I’ve told you--” Arthur began tiredly, his brow knitted in consternation.
“This is not the time--” Merlin interjected sharply.
But Morgana persisted nevertheless. “Do you see, Arthur, do you see what you’ve done? You - I know you have never, never…not as I have loved you. We all know where your heart lies,” she said bitterly, the turmoil of her emotions after giving birth guiding her words.
Arthur had opened his mouth, ready to defend himself when Merlin intervened.
“Enough! The both of you!” Merlin admonished them sternly, not wanting this to turn into a full-fledged argument.
The baby started to cry and Merlin focused on shushing the child, trying to get her to settle down.
Morgana glared at Arthur and said softly, but her words were tight with tension. “I named her Kahlan. She is my child, not yours. Never yours.”
Merlin looked ready to say something, but a stricken Arthur abruptly stood up and left the room.
~ * ~
502 AD
Not long before Morgana planned to leave Camelot with her and Arthur’s daughter, an 18-year old Arthur ventured into Merlin’s chambers. He was feeling anxious.
He needed to speak to Merlin privately, to make sure that the two of them had an understanding. That Merlin didn’t hate him.
When he entered Merlin’s room, Arthur found his advisor writing in his journal, and rubbing his brow as if in thought. He was muttering to himself, looking frustrated - about what, Arthur wasn’t sure. Hopefully it wasn’t about Morgana’s predicament because then, certainly, this was not a good time for Arthur to discuss the matter with him.
Merlin looked up when Arthur cleared his throat. The Dragonlord set aside his journal and then gave the blond his full attention. His hands were clasped together upon the table. He did not show any sign of being displeased with Arthur, and he knew how bad of an actor his advisor was. So maybe this talk wouldn’t be so harrowing.
“Your Majesty, to what do I owe this visit?” Merlin inquired lightly.
The dark-haired sorcerer waved his hand so that the chair across from him moved a few inches from the table. He invited Arthur to sit down upon it.
Arthur frowned, scratching the back of his head. “I think…considering the new situation now, that we can be a little less formal. And no one else is here after all…”
“Shall I call you son, then? Is that what you’d like?” Merlin asked him, a mischievous smile forming on his lips.
Arthur was startled for a moment, horrified. “No, no, gods no… just ‘Arthur.’ Just…this is what I came here to discuss with you. Are you okay with what I did with Morgana? And the child?”
Merlin appeared to contemplate what Arthur had said and answered, “I’ve had months to come to terms with this - ever since my daughter became pregnant. I thought you knew how I felt about the situation.”
Arthur nodded. “Yes, but now… with Kahlan being born, and Morgana set to leave with her…I just wanted to see if anything has changed. I told you that I’m sorry for what I’ve done and...”
His advisor held up his hand to halt the king’s words. “Arthur,” Merlin began quietly.
“Yes?” He said, feeling nervous all of a sudden.
“I have had some time to accept this predicament. You have apologized to me and Morgana numerous times. I know you’re remorseful. That said, I certainly do not wish that Kahlan had never been born. No matter how she was brought into this world, I remain a happy grandfather. What is done is done, and I hope that when Kahlan grows older, she will be proud of who her parents are.” He gave Arthur a small smile.
“I was thinking of marrying Morgana…” Arthur ventured.
Merlin shook his head. “I know you believe it to be the right gesture, but my daughter has obligations to attend to that are beyond Camelot. It is just as well that she returns home to Avalon. Nimue will help her to raise the child and prepare Morgana for her duty.”
Arthur’s brow creased. He didn’t know what Merlin meant. “What duty? Morgana hasn’t told me anything about it.”
“If Morgana wishes to tell you, she will. It is her decision,” He told him, quietly shutting down any more inquiry on the subject. Merlin raised his voice as he continued on, “As far as her future prospects, you know how Morgana is. She does not fancy being sold like a prize.”
Arthur recalled Morgana’s defiant words when he had first met her: “I do not plan to be beholden to any man.” Even now, she abided by those words with a passion.
Merlin said confidently, “I have faith in my daughter that she will be fine. But if she so chooses, then she will be able to marry someone of magic kin. Matters of matrimony work differently among the magic community. It is not so much about the woman’s honour as it is about her magical pedigree - how great a magic she could provide to a child she bears. So, that shouldn’t be a problem for her.”
Arthur sighed, and for wont of needing something to focus on, he circled his finger about the rings on the dark wooden table. He said, his head down as he felt nervous about his next words. “The whole matter was an accident. I did not wish to have a child with Morgana, at least, not now. But I-I do care for her. I love her.”
“Arthur, I know your heart is in the right place, but my daughter has told me that she loves you more than you do her. That your heart belongs to another.”
Merlin gave Arthur a meaningful look.
“Merlin, I--”
Merlin interrupted him, “I know, but now is not the time. I will do my best to convince Morgana to allow you to be a part of your daughter’s life. I am sure that once everything settles down, she will agree to it.”
“Morgana knows how I feel about her. How can it be wrong to love more than one person?”
“You are not the first to feel an attraction for me, Your Majesty,” Merlin said, his words almost cold to Arthur’s ears.
“But I-this is different,” Arthur insisted.
“Is it?” Merlin asked idly, a wandering question asked to no one and everyone.
Arthur wasn’t sure how to answer that.
Swiftly, and with intent, his advisor changed the subject, “You are a good man, My Lord. You are doing an admirable job of making Camelot a great kingdom. Now your mother has been ill for some time as you well know. She wishes that you marry so that what happened with my daughter will not be repeated with another woman. You are already eighteen, and it’s time to seriously consider having a legitimate heir, a son. There is the Lady Guinevere of Gwynedd…” He suggested.
Arthur tried not to make an undignified, exaggerated sigh. One of his best knights and good friend, Sir Lancelot, was particularly fond of Lady Guinevere.
But if he had to marry for the sake of Camelot and to make his mother happy (at least that she would see him married before her ailment took an irreversible turn for the worst), then he would.
Though Arthur was certain that the only woman he’d ever truly love would be Morgana…
She was the mother of his child after all.
~ * ~
Arthur and Merlin looked out from the castle ramparts as Morgana with Kahlan in her arms left Camelot in a horse-drawn carriage. A small escort of knights went with her at Arthur’s behest. Morgana’s mother, Nimue, was with her as well to help look after her granddaughter on the journey home.
Arthur had asked Merlin then, just a curious query, as to why he stayed with Nimue after her infidelity.
His advisor looked him right in the eye and said to him, “Because she is the mother of my children. And while she is a flawed woman, I know that she loves me. I can see it in her eyes. She takes my advice to heart, and she cares for me no matter my own flaws.”
Arthur was baffled. “Your flaws…what do you mean?”
Merlin only smiled thinly at him. “I must go check on Kilgharrah, Your Majesty--”
“It’s Arthur…” Arthur corrected abruptly. “Merlin, would you please just…”
But the Dragonlord just squeezed his shoulder in a friendly way and said, “Take care of your heart.”
And then he walked away from the King.
~ * ~
Morgana had wept suddenly. It was the first time she had come to visit Arthur at Camelot with their daughter, who was just starting to crawl.
Arthur had taken Kahlan in his arms, removing her from Merlin’s grasp. The Dragonlord positively doted on his granddaughter and he was always ready to lay his attentions on her. Arthur knew that his advisor even made trips back home, to Avalon, to check on his granddaughter.
Arthur held his daughter in his arms and Kahlan gurgled happily. Her tiny hand reached out to grasp one of Arthur’s fingers. Her grip was strong as she held on and Arthur could already tell that she had a lot of Morgana in her, and it wasn’t just her dark as night hair.
But his daughter had his blue eyes, and they almost twinkled as she looked up at him. Arthur couldn’t resist cooing back at her, pleased to see that she hadn’t started crying.
But upon watching Arthur interact with their daughter, Morgana had inexplicably burst into tears. She rushed out of her father’s rooms.
Arthur had exchanged a puzzled look with Merlin who had advised him to go after her. He’d given Kahlan to Merlin and then left to find her.
He found Morgana in his chambers. Arthur had passed the Lady Guinevere, who he would soon wed, in the hall and she pointed the way for him. An understanding look graced her face at her future husband’s predicament. For that, Arthur had been eternally grateful. Then again, she had Lancelot.
“Morgana, what’s wrong?” He asked her upon entering his chambers. She was standing by the window and when Arthur reached her, she spoke.
“She’s just…” Morgana paused, sighing. “I can see how well Kahlan takes to you, and it’s just so hard. She can be a danger to you, Arthur. And you’re too important to lose.”
“We will find a way to handle it,” Arthur reassured her, doing his best to inspire confidence within her. “Kahlan will grow up at Avalon, and she will visit here. I won’t be alone with her…I know you’ll make sure of that. I do ask that at one point, I do have some private time with my own daughter.”
“When my mother and I feel that she has her power under control and Kahlan feels comfortable around you, then yes.” She nodded.
“Right…then, see, it’ll be all right, Morgana. I’ll either be with you or Merlin at first…”
“Or my mother,” Morgana contributed slyly.
Arthur frowned. “Maybe not Nimue.”
Morgana shook her head, looking amused. “Oh, the look on your face!”
“I’m positive that your mother contemplates tying me up and placing me on a stone altar, to see what sacrificing me to the Old Religion will give her,” Arthur asserted.
“Actually,” Morgana teased, smiling at him, “Father advised her against doing that.”
Arthur stared at her. “That was not funny.”
“It was a little…” she remarked, grinning at him now.
“Morgana!” Arthur exclaimed, affronted at her laughter at his expense.
Somehow, they ended up tackling each other to the ground. Morgana was on top of Arthur, and the both of them looked at one another before she kissed him.
~ * ~
Kahlan was sixteen years old when Arthur took her to visit his mother’s grave. It marked the first time that Arthur had spent time alone with his daughter. Bandits had waylaid them, which was not too worrying as the group had appeared to be incompetent fighters.
Kahlan knew how to fight with weaponry. She had been taught to do so at Avalon where she lived with her mother and grandmother, that is, Nimue (privately, Arthur called her the witch from hell because he always felt uneasy around her). His daughter always had two daggers on her person. She had her magical abilities as well, but Arthur had been expressly told by Morgana that their daughter was more prone to using her Confessor power over other magicks. It was her natural weapon against any foe.
Unfortunately, Kahlan had been spurred to use her power on pure instinct. One of the men was about to attack Arthur from behind and his daughter had wrapped her hand around the man’s neck, unleashing her power.
Turning quickly, Arthur watched as the man’s eyes went black for a moment before returning to a muddy brown color.
Wavering slightly in place as if she were about to faint, Kahlan looked at her father. She looked shocked at what she had just done in front of him. He returned the look in kind, unsure how to take it. He knew what could happen, but to see the Confession before his eyes was a different experience entirely.
The man, under Confession, drew his sword on Arthur, ready to attack.
“Stop it!” Kahlan exclaimed.
“But he was going to hurt you, mistress,” the man said.
Kahlan again told him to stand his ground, and the man did.
The few bandits who remained saw what was happening and wizened up rather fast. “She did something to him! She’s a witch!” They cried in alarm.
Arthur saw his daughter give him a quick nod, her hands trembling, but her expression was sure.
Feeling like a heavy weight was bearing down on him; Arthur wielded his sword and killed the Confessed man.
The now smaller group of brigands scattered, fearful of Kahlan’s power, as they distanced themselves from the young woman.
Later, Arthur reassured his daughter that this did not change how much he loved her. That Arthur had known and accepted that he would, at one point, see what she could do. Kahlan told him that she hated how she had to fear love because of her power. Arthur’s heart ached for his daughter, but not long afterwards, Merlin had assured him that Kahlan would be all right. Merlin would make sure of it.
Part 3