Mykonos 13/16
| Masterpost| Part Twelve|
It took five more days of tentative planning before Arthur came up with the idea that would buy them the time needed to get to the Stone Circle.
They had quickly realised that any action they needed to take would have to be done through the Obsidians. Speculating on their knowledge of the connections and what Merlin wanted - for Camelot to join with the Old Magic in the earth - Arthur had directed their thoughts, making Merlin think and planning, the pair realising that they would need the Circle itself.
“It’ll be difficult to get to,” Arthur had said, frowning once they’d decided what needed to be done. “And Nimueh would do everything in her power to stop us.”
Merlin had nodded, and they’d gone back to their plans, trying to find a way in which they could get around everyone and down to the Circles. According to Arthur, the only entrance to the Circle was deep in the heart of the castle, down in the dungeons and beyond any area anyone would usually frequent. Getting to that area, however, was a different matter, for the castle would be teeming with life, no matter what time of day.
So they needed a distraction, something big that would divert attention. They’d contemplated everything from starting a riot (if you looked for the right people, you could muster up a force, Arthur was almost certain) to performing a display of magic in the centre of the Square. It took hours of angered conversations, frustration and headaches, but they finally came up with a plan.
“What if,” Arthur began, eyes darting over the computer screen they had up, fingers clacking away on the keyboard. “We need a big distraction,” he continued, hitting one last button before turning to Merlin.
“Yeah,” Merlin said, shrugging. He knew that.
“What if we shut down the entire electrical system?” Arthur said, breathless and excited. His eyes were wide and Merlin wanted nothing more than to pull him close and kiss him, reignite the bond they’d forged at the Isle and tell Arthur how amazing he was.
Kilgharrah had said that Merlin’s dragon would be smart, someone who could use an Obsidian without magic and manipulate the channels to his whim. Over the weeks, Merlin had gathered enough information to see that Arthur was renown amongst Uther’s ranks, or his knights. They were the clever ones, Uther’s match to Nimueh’s sorcerers, working on the electrical channels as opposed to the magic of the City, and Arthur was the best.
It was no surprise that Arthur would think of something to do with the electrical system, but to shut it all down… was it even possible?
“How would you do that?” Merlin asked.
“I can pull up the basic codes that the entire system depends on. They’re archaic, barely upgraded from when they were put in place, and I’ve messed around with them enough that I won’t be a bull in a china shop.” He paused, considering. “Though granted what we want to do, perhaps I ought to be a bull in a china shop.”
He gave a wry grin before carrying on. “If I can tweak the code, I can get the entire City to shut down. Under that, my father will have no choice but to enforce the emergency protocol and put up a lockdown until they get the system back up.”
While he didn’t understand everything Arthur had said, Merlin knew that it wouldn’t be easy.
“How long will it give us?” he asked quietly, and Arthur turned back to the screen.
“A hour, maybe two. Long enough for us to get from here to the Circle at any rate.” He pressed a few more keys, bringing up a pitch black screen. “I’m going to look at the code again, see what I can figure out.”
Merlin left him to it, walking over to the sofa, humming to himself. His magic was content, laying lazily inside of him, but he used it to pick up Arthur’s battered copy of Mykonos, flicking through the pages and imagining, not for the first time, what Arthur saw in this tiny book.
“It belonged to my mother,” a voice said, and Merlin startled slightly, not having realised Arthur was behind him, arms leaning on the back of the sofa. “My father gave it to me when I was old enough and though it’s a far cry from a fairy tale, there was always something realistic in the tale.”
He moved around the side of the sofa, coming to sit by Merlin, throwing an arm across the back of the setee.
“It’s not a perfect story. Some good people lose and some bad people win. Nothing is tidy in the end and there’s a lot of suffering they all went through, as well as hard choices.” Arthur swallowed. “I never had fairy tales and ‘once upon a time’s until I saw you.”
“They’re not all bad,” Merlin whispered, letting the book float back onto the table, turning his body so that his knees rested on the cushion beneath him and Arthur was in front of him.
“They can teach you things,” Merlin continued, letting his gaze wander down, until he could catalogue every wrinkle, every freckle and groove, that made up Arthur’s face. “They can teach you to love, to fight for what is right, to seek justice and to stick to your cause.”
Arthur blinked slowly, wetting his lips. Merlin watched the trail his tongue left, shifting forwards very slightly, close to desperation in what he wanted. It wasn’t his magic this time, lethargic and curled inside of him, almost undetectable.
He was about to reach out and brush his fingers down Arthur’s cheek when the prince moved, backing away and standing, tall and imposing. Merlin couldn’t look away, not even as Arthur flared his nostrils, retreating to his bedroom.
It was late, and Merlin sighed, beginning to set his bed up for the night. He hadn’t even touched Arthur and he’d scared him off, so what hope was there now? It had been Merlin’s magic that Arthur had felt and liked at the Isle, another manipulation to link them together to Merlin could be Emrys and complete his destiny.
He didn’t want that though. What he’d had with Arthur, he’d been so sure that it was more than just his magic. He’d been so sure that Arthur had wanted him, felt their connection and that it hadn’t just been because of the magic. He wanted Arthur, and had been so sure…
“Merlin?” Arthur asked softly, framed in the glow of light from his room. The rest of the house was dark now, save for the blinking light of the computer, and Merlin’s head snapped to look at him.
He sounded so unsure of himself, so Merlin stood, legs shaky as he untangled himself from the sheets.
“I…” Arthur began, before looking down, rubbing the back of his head and mussing up his hair. “I’ve never heard a fairy tale,” he admitted, glancing up briefly, a flash of white against a silhouette.
“Oh,” Merlin replied, taking a step forward, and then another, until he stood before Arthur, hesitant.
“You can stay,” he added, moving to grip Merlin’s wrist lightly, fingers warm where they brushed Merlin’s skin. “It’s comfier than the sofa and I won’t do anything.”
Merlin could have added that he wouldn’t have minded if Arthur did choose to do something, but he led Arthur into his room and waited for Arthur to climb into the large bed.
There was space enough, though their legs brushed each other. Neither made the decision to move back, away from each other, and Arthur flicked the light off, rolling over until he faced Merlin, one hand in the space between them.
“What story would you like to know?” Merlin asked, taking a bold move to thread his hand with Arthur’s, stroking over the back of his hand, little promising touches that he would tell them all to Arthur should he ask.
“A happy one,” Arthur replied, voice low and husky. “Something where everyone gets their happy ending.”
Merlin took a deep breath and began.
.
The morning broke slowly, without the weather or an alarm to wake him. Merlin woke early, warm and comforted, before he slipped back into sleep, waking hours later, still warm and still comforted.
He knew why; it was hard not to feel Arthur’s chest rising and falling in tandem to his, and where their hands met, Merlin could feel his magic running lazily into Arthur, calling to him in his dreams, reassuring him wherever he was.
Merlin looked up at the ceiling and sighed lightly. He’d spun stories the night before, the classics such as Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White… timeless stories that had been lost in their written forms, but never forgotten from the minds of people. Arthur had soaked up the words, eyes lidded with the need for sleep, but his determination to hear ‘and they lived happily ever after’ winning by miles.
He had listened like a child, soaking the words into his mind and fusing them with his plans. No matter what, first and foremost Arthur was a prince, and as a prince, he wanted what was best for his people. He wanted to save people, just as Merlin did, and together they would. For someone who had never had ‘once upon a time’s and ‘happily ever after’s in his stories, Arthur had never quite believed they existed, something he’d confessed against his pillow, indulging Merlin in his own night-time secrets.
The morning cast Arthur in a different light, made him younger and less of the man Merlin knew him to be. Asleep, Arthur could be his mighty dragon, a beast that would stop at nothing to tear down the walls of the Tower and save his people. In his sleep, Arthur could be the image of his father, turning Merlin out of Camelot to rot on the shores, closing any door of hope forever.
He could be anything, and Arthur had chosen to be by Merlin’s side, sign away his loyalty and placed his people first. Merlin hadn’t had a choice, not really, to come and help Camelot, but Arthur had. He could have changed his mind at any point too - it would have been easy. Nimueh wanted him, and Arthur could be free.
Unlike every monarch before him, Arthur had chosen to fight for what was right, not just what was easy, and that was a thought that Merlin could grow to love in a person.
He shifted away from Arthur, the mattress on his back cold, devoid of body heat the whole night as they’d been huddled together. It was then that Arthur woke, cracking an eye open ever so slightly and humming out a hello.
Merlin had expected an awkward silence or uneasy stepping around each other, but Arthur simply sat up and stretched, throwing his arms out to the side and brushing against Merlin.
“Sorry,” he apologised a moment later, “Breakfast?”
And that was it. Merlin smiled to himself as Arthur left the room, blanket tucked around his legs and one hand braced on his pillow.
After breakfast came more planning, Arthur going through numerous codes, trying to build up a virus that would take down the system while Merlin focused on Aglain’s meditation, building on his magic and trying to feel every inch of the City.
On the second day, Merlin began working on Arthur’s house silently, refusing the channels so that the magic one could sink back into the earth and the electricity could merge fully. It had taken longer than his efforts in Gwen’s house, but that had mainly been because there was so much more for Merlin to do here. He’d never attempted an area this vast before, but it worked, well, and Merlin looked up across the room, smiling at Arthur.
“Turn something on,” he said, drawing an amused smirk from Arthur.
“Why?” he asked.
“Just do it,” Merlin insisted, and Arthur rolled his eyes, moving away from his screen and flicking for the remote on the TV. It flickered to life, and Merlin closed his eyes, feeling for any problems in the system he had created, smiling wider when he sensed nothing, just a stronger channel that had existed prior.
“It worked on your house,” he said, still smiling. “I really think we can do this.”
There was a look in Arthur’s eyes, something that Merlin felt resonate deep within him. They were next to each other, Arthur standing and Merlin seated, but it would be easy to pull him down and close, press their lips together as he’s been wanting to for days now.
Merlin didn’t. And Arthur didn’t. He just took one look at Merlin, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, smile never falling from his lips.
Together, they worked on their plan for the rest of the day, and the day after. They slept together, barely touching yet unified deeper than simply physical. Merlin’s magic had attuned itself to Arthur, wanted him to be happy you could say, and in their sleep, it drew them together, warm and happy. Arthur knew, but when Merlin had informed him quietly of the matter, he’d thrown an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and laughed, marvelled by the way magic worked rather than disgusted that it had singled him out.
When their plans were done, they lay in the darkness of Arthur’s room, silent yet far from being sleep.
“Merlin?” Arthur asked in the dark, throwing the words into the night sky. “What will happen tomorrow?”
For a long while, Merlin couldn’t think of an answer. He let the words float around them, brain hardly scrambling to answer the question, when a word that had fallen from a dragon’s mouth sprouted from Merlin’s.
“Destiny,” he said, slightly awed. “We were prophesised to do this years ago and we’ll finally do it.”
Arthur was silent, and Merlin shifted, trying to see him through the gloom. There was something more, Merlin felt, something that he hadn’t answered properly.
“I mean,” Arthur muttered a while later, voice husky. “What happens to us? What will you do? What will I do?”
He shifted, the bed dipping as Arthur moved beyond any silent boundary and into Merlin’s personal space.
“What happens if, for whatever reason, one of us is hurt, or taken away or-“
Merlin let a hand graze Arthur’s cheek, hushing the spew of worried words. He let his thumb curl over Arthur’s cheek before he shuffled closer, fitting himself against Arthur.
“I’m not going to let that happen,” Merlin whispered, and he kissed Arthur’s cheek tenderly. “We’re going to be together and win, because there are no other options.”
That was all that needed to be said, and for once, Merlin reacted without the prompt of his magic. It was silent as he met Arthur’s kiss, rolling him over and burying his hands into the pillows either side of Arthur’s head, pressing against him and pushing down, until Arthur arched slightly and gripped back, pulling and pushing, fighting for what they both wanted.
They weren’t explosive or anything overly amazing that Merlin would want to broadcast to the world, but they were a quiet, powerful perfect, fitting together seamlessly in the darkness, Arthur’s broad shoulder’s moving over Merlin and bony knees locking to Arthur’s hips.
His magic remained quiet, and that was how Merlin knew they were meant to be more than any prophecy, more than any sentence in an ancient book.
Tomorrow was the end of the world, but that was okay, because Merlin had Arthur, and Arthur had him.
.
Arthur hit enter on the keyboard before his thumb retreated to his face, rolling the ring on his index finger over his lips. Merlin took his eyes away from Arthur for a moment, but returned them, not understanding the garbled words on the screen or the flicking images.
He looked so young, Merlin thought. He looked in his element, having created this code from scratch and forced it to work. Arthur was proud of his accomplishment, because he knew that it would bring a new age for Camelot, one without slavery or lies.
It took a few moments more, Merlin donning a smile as he saw Arthur’s excitement practically rolling off of his shoulders, until the computer screen went blank and panic consumed him.
“What’s happened?” Merlin rushed out, wondering how they could have miscalculated. Arthur’s fingers pressed a few buttons on the computer, a wolfish grin overtaking his lips as he turned to Merlin.
“Check the kitchen,” he demanded, and Merlin did as told, understanding what Arthur was hoping for.
He flicked a few of the switches on random appliances, but nothing beeped or whirled. Everything was silent and dark, and Arthur gave a whoop of laughter, standing up and throwing his arms around Merlin as he returned.
“We did it!” he exclaimed against Merlin’s ear. “I knew we would, but still!”
Taking Arthur’s head in his hands, Merlin drew him back and smiled, wonder and amazement surely clear in his eyes. Arthur pulled him closer and kissed him softly on the lips, a clear promise that everything was going to change for the better, before he pulled back and walked to the door.
“The Square should be shut down and my father will have ordered the knights to evacuate public places.” Arthur looked positively gleeful at the next words, “It’s the worst scenario he’d have thought of, well short of everyone from the Pickings rising up against him. He won’t understand how it happened, and by the time he gets the best team on it, it’ll be too late. We have plenty of time, but we best get going before an iron curfew’s enforced.”
Merlin followed Arthur to the door, where Arthur took his hand and smiled, pulling Merlin to his side and starting off through the dark streets. Without the electrical sky, Merlin could see that Camelot wasn’t completely enclosed. In fact, the Tower top looked to be similar to a curled flower, petals sprung to open, and wondered if the initial design had thrown the top open, exactly how the Old World would have been.
Moving through the Square was easy, and for once the wishing well remained silent. They ran across the bridge, hardly containing nervous laughter, feet pounding against the floor like children running through a house.
It was strangely liberating to be the only ones in a City that would otherwise be full of busy, fast-paced people. Arthur had slowed them all down, sent them home, so that they could literally work their magic together and create a better world for the next time they stepped from their homes.
Merlin spared a thought for Morgana and Gwen, wondering what they were doing right now, before Arthur crossed the boundary of the palace, leading Merlin to the darkest parts of his castle.
They walked through the darkness of the halls, unafraid of being seen. As Arthur had put it; everyone else would be in a state of lockdown, not willing to come out of their homes as everything they relied upon vanished. Shutting down the entire system that Camelot run on was genius on Arthur's behalf for Merlin to work his magic, but also to stop any unwanted interruptions.
They passed through the palace, Arthur stating that the only way they'd be able to get down into the upper regions of the Tower, where the Stone Circle was, would be through the abandoned dungeons, without having to use the shuttles. Well, having to walk the route of the shuttles, as they were ground to a halt at the lack of electricity.
It was amazing to see how much Camelot depended on the electricity, really, but Merlin couldn't help but feel a little sad. It was like a bird that had lost one of its wings; not really a great City anymore, struggling along on its other wing, the injured, magical one. Without the two, the bird - Camelot - would die, that much was inevitable.
"We'll cut through here," Arthur whispered, shooting away from the corridor they'd been in and moving through to a great hall.
It looked like a throne room, with ornate chairs standing at one end and an empty floor. Perhaps in the old days a king would have held court here, but Merlin knew that Uther would never hold court now, unless it was with the sorcerers, and then they would move to a secretive place, not wanting anyone to be privy to their sins.
They passed through the hall, Merlin barely getting a chance to see any more as Arthur dragged them through, into yet another corridor and then to a curved flight of steps. They moved down with speed, Arthur's hand loose in Merlin's own, but warm and reassuring.
As they reached the base of the steps, meeting a forked junction, Merlin's eyes set upon the wall between the two pathways.
"Merlin?" Arthur questioned, breath heavy, when he realised Merlin wasn't moving. His own eyes alighted on the wall, at the object mounted at the junction, and looked to Merlin.
"Its name is Excalibur. Legends say that it was the sword of the gods, or the ancient kings, depending on which legends you look to. They all agree that it was forged in a dragon's breath, though, and the strongest sword ever known to man." He gave a wry grin and let his hand fall from Merlin's. "And then there are those other legends that say it never had a master, that the sword would not let itself be used by anyone other than the greatest king the world would ever know."
Arthur laughed at that, the sound clear and joyous in the flickering light from the lit beacons that lined the dungeon walls.
"Not many kings liked that legend though. They could never wield Excalibur, some said it was too heavy, for others it was too sluggish, there were thousands of excuses." Arthur looked at Merlin, the nearby firelight flashing in his eyes.
"And what king wants to acknowledge that he won't be the greatest, all down to a sword?" He shrugged his shoulders, taking a step towards the left pathway, stopping when he realised Merlin still wasn't following.
"Merlin?" he asked again, brow furrowing. "We have to go now or we'll run out of time."
Merlin was still fixed on the sword, and took a step towards the blade. He took it from the wall gently, wincing at the sudden weight in his arms. It was a masterpiece, glimmering and golden on the blade and comforting at the hilt. It was, in every way, a perfect sword for the right person.
In the Chronicles of Beltane, the original tome that Arthur had given him, the un-translated legends had spoken of a weapon mightier than any before that Merlin would need. He'd assumed the Old language had been referring to his magic, but looking at Excalibur, Merlin knew there was more to it than just his magic.
They'd need this sword, for whatever reason, and Arthur presented Excalibur to Arthur hilt-first, eyes never leaving Arthur's.
"Take it," he said softly, words firm and leaving no room for Arthur to argue.
"Merlin I-" Arthur said, shaking his head.
"Take your sword," Merlin repeated, nodding a little.
"I am not yet king," Arthur reminded him, still shaking his head and taking a small step back, distancing himself from what Merlin was offering.
Merlin looked away, regretfully, down at the gleaming sword in his hands.
"You think that your father will be king when this is all over?" he asked sadly, meeting Arthur's gaze once more with pity. "Arthur, if we do this, if we succeed, there is no way that he can stay upon his throne."
Gritting his jaw, Merlin continued, "There are terrible things that he has done, things that you would never forgive him for."
Arthur scoffed, "You've told me everything there is to know. Yes they were terrible, but if we can fix it then there's no reason to overthrow the king as well."
This wasn't how Merlin had wanted to tell him. It wasn't how Merlin had planned it at all, and especially not now when so much weighed on them completing this task.
But he had to. It was now or never, and Merlin couldn’t take a step further knowing that he’d lied straight to Arthur’s face. He had to tell him, fuck Arthur had deserved to know right from the start, and Merlin had to do it now.
“When I was with the druids,” he began, letting the sword free of one hand, resting the blade’s tip rest on the ground slightly as Merlin shifted his grip to the hilt. “There was another person who I was with, aside from Gaius. Along with my father and Gaius, she was exiled when she discovered the truth.”
Arthur’s voice was hollow, almost as if he knew what Merlin’s answer was going to be, when he asked, “She?”
“I first knew her as Eigyr, a shy woman who was scared. When I discovered the truth, she told me her full story, how she’d been betrayed by the man she loved and cast aside without even saying a goodbye to her son.”
Merlin couldn’t bear to look at Arthur, not wanting to see the betrayal on his face.
“You were the one who made me realise who she was,” Merlin admitted, still not looking at Arthur. “Back when you showed me the picture of the queen, when we were in the garden.”
Arthur had to have understood by now, Merlin thought, but he still kept his gaze downcast.
“She told me the truth and her real name. She… Ygraine asked me to look for you, to see that you were okay,” Merlin added, desperately hoping that Arthur would accept the tiny olive branch for what it was and be glad that his mother still cared. Selfish, but Merlin didn’t want to lose him.
So Merlin risked a glance at Arthur, and regretted it instantly.
Arthur's face fell dramatically before tightening, all emotion cutting off as the words filtered through to his brain. He frowned slightly, giving a minute shake of his head before a quiet 'no' slipped from his mouth and he looked at Merlin, hard.
"That's ridiculous," he said, but the words were weak. "You said you'd told me everything, about all the crimes the sorcerers had committed and..." Arthur trailed off, voice pitching higher as his frown deepened.
"And Gaius!" he said suddenly. "You told me about Gaius and not... not..."
"Your mother," Merlin said quietly. "I know, I know and I'm sorry, so, so sorry, but it's not something that I could just tell you, there had to be a moment."
The words were a far cry from what Merlin had really wanted to say, but they were out now and there was no way he could take them back.
Arthur took another step back, eyes wide and horrified look on his face.
“I trusted you,” he blurted out suddenly, angry and unable to contain it. “All those times you could have told me and yet you sat there, in my house - in my bed - and said there was nothing more to tell me.” Unadulterated fury was clear in Arthur’s voice, but Merlin just took it, looking down and away, knowing that he had deserved it.
“Arthur,” he said a moment later, breaking the tension between them. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I couldn’t-“
“No Merlin,” Arthur said flatly, “She’s my mother and you lied to me. I can’t…” he broke off with a slightly strangled laugh, narrowing his eyes as he strode forwards, passing Merlin and heading for the stairs.
“I can’t do this with someone I can’t trust,” he said, hideously wicked and yet deservingly so. Arthur spared him one last glance before he was gone, head bowed as he walked up the steps again, leaving Merlin with Excalibur cold and heavy under his hand.
The Chronicles had spoken of Merlin never having to do this alone, yet Arthur was gone. Arthur had walked away and there was nothing that Merlin could do to bring him back. He had lied, betrayed Arthur, all the while knowing that Arthur valued his family relationships above all.
Merlin had forced him to betray Uther, his father, and had secreted away the truth about his mother. How did that make him any different from what Nimueh and the sorcerers were doing? He’d ripped Arthur’s family apart just as well as all the other magic users had, that was without a doubt.
But he had a destiny to fulfil. With or without Arthur, Merlin needed to free the people trapped below them. He would do the best he could with Excalibur and his magic in order to free those in need, and when this was all done, he could apologise to Arthur - properly - and take him to Ygraine. It wouldn’t make up for what he had done, but it would be a start.
So Merlin did what he’d always done, tucked the painful feeling inside of himself, deep somewhere where it couldn’t escape, and he moved forwards to do what he had to, to complete his destiny. It was what he’d done the whole time since he’d been washed up on the shores of the Tower, and apparently what he’d continue to do, alone, until his goal was met.
He was foolish for thinking that Arthur would have stayed with him. Every time Merlin had gotten close to someone, they’d been taken away or left. This destiny was something that he had to do alone now, without help, because the more help he received, the more people ended up hurt.
So Merlin took Excalibur up, more firmly now, and stepped forward down the corridor that would lead him through the dungeons and down to the Circle. The sword was heavy and uncomfortable, itching against his magic as it fought against Merlin, telling him that Excalibur was Arthur’s, but Merlin just adjusted his grip, the tip of the blade just touching the ground as he walked.
As he’d done weeks before when moving down to visit Kilgharrah, Merlin walked on autopilot, thoughts buzzing as he placed one foot in front of the other, simple and easy. Left, right, left, right, not focusing on the fact that he’d lost Arthur and would be alone through this now.
Before when he’d seen Nimueh, Merlin realised, he’d had Arthur and there hadn’t been the same fear that was beginning to coil in his stomach. Back then, Nimueh had been beatable, because Arthur was there and they’d been in it together.
Was this the choice? Had Merlin choosing to tell Arthur about Ygraine influenced whether or not he would complete his task or result in the world’s destruction? Surely not though, and even though it had shattered Merlin’s bond with Arthur, it wouldn’t have that big an impact on the rest of the world.
But Merlin hadn’t chosen between people, and he’d always felt that that would be the choice he’d have had to make.
He clenched his jaw as the corridor opened out, revealing a metal-wrought gate, open and leading into darkness-shrouded stairs.
This was it, Merlin realised. There would be no turning back after this, and his grip on Excalibur tightened.as he shuffled forwards. This was his destiny, what he’d crossed the Ocean for and lost his family for. It wasn’t for Arthur, he told himself, wasn’t because a holographic-dragon had asked for his help.
The air drew colder as Merlin moved down wide, stone steps, emerging a little while later on a platform similar to the queen’s garden’s. It wasn’t as ruined, but greenery sprung up from the ground, natural yet wrong, and covered the earth near the huge, black stones jutting out of the earth.
This close to them, Merlin could feel magic resonating in his own Obsidian, the Stone - tiny compared to the ones it was hewn from - vibrated with the power around them and through Merlin’s core. His own magic tingled, but didn’t react, comforted by the presence of the Old Magic as opposed to wary of it.
He basked in the feeling for a few minutes, almost completely unaware of everything around him as magic swirled around him curiously. He was something new and old at the same time, and the magic responded to his very whim, coiling around him like a curious child, intent on discovering his secrets.
Excalibur fell from his grip as the magic within the Obsidians shifted, responding to Merlin in a way he knew they hadn’t to anyone for a long time. He moved to the stone that was central to the Circle, larger and thicker than the others, and laid his palm flat against its surface, closing his eyes.
In that moment, Merlin could feel the thousands of connections that had been forced upon the natural magic. He could feel the decay within the connections, of the corruption that had been forced into the natural magic under the sorcerer’s twisting spells. He could feel the pain and the sorrow of the connections, thousands, and then the huge, rumbling thread that pulled to Kilgharrah.
There was something else, too, a darker thread and a smaller one, fainter than any of the others yet the tingle behind it was stronger, closer. Merlin opened his eyes and turned, unsurprised to see Nimueh. And then his eyes caught sight of the small figure hunched at Nimueh’s side, the source of the smaller thread, and felt his stomach drop as he met Mordred’s frightened gaze.
“I knew you’d come,” Nimueh said, lips curling viciously. “That you would put stock in the prophecy and try to change everything.”
Merlin looked back over to where Excalibur lay in the grass, a small clump of flowers covering the hilt. It was too far away for Merlin to reach without notice, and if he tried, he knew that Nimueh would be able to stop him with ease. She had years of practice for bending the Obsidian’s magic to her whim and as such, her powers would be greater near the Circle. She would easily be able to pluck the sword from his hands and turn it against him. Better that she forgot about it, if she even knew it was there.
If Mordred hadn’t been there, things would have been easier. Merlin could have used his magic to overpower Nimueh, easily. Except Mordred was there, a frightened child, who could probably only remember being fired at with the stunner gun as his last memory before being plucked from his cubicle.
“Let him go,” Merlin said, hands out to his side and palms facing Nimueh, trying to show her that he wasn’t a threat, so long as she did as he asked.
She simple shook her head, amused.
“Do you know who this boy is? What he represents?” Nimueh waited for Merlin’s answer, yet he couldn’t form the words. “He is our salvation, because he has the perfect amount of power that the Obsidians need. Without his magic, our grip on the sealing spells will lessen, but with it, we can return to a golden age.”
Merlin realised then that not even Nimueh could feel what he felt. Even though Gaius had mentioned Merlin was one of a kind and Aglain had repeated that he was unlike any magic user he’d seen before, Merlin had always assumed that Nimueh, the most powerful sorceress since before the waters flooded the earth the first time, would be like him, that she’d be able to sense the magic all around them.
With what she’d said, however, Merlin knew that she had never felt it. She didn’t know how much damage she’d caused in performing the sealing spells and just assumed that more magic would solve the problem. She was willing to sacrifice Mordred’s life to push magic into the problem, hoping it would solve it without considering that she could do further damage.
Though, if Mordred’s magic could be channelled through the Stones in the way that Merlin was planning to use his own, then maybe Nimueh’s plan would work. However, Merlin could tell that she wasn’t willing to listen to him, and that any plan she had wouldn’t be in the interest of saving the City, but saving the bonds tying the wild magic to the people taken from the Pickings.
Nimueh wasn’t interested in the people, but Merlin was.
“You’re only going to harm innocent people,” Merlin said firmly, shifting so that he was placed directly between Nimueh and the central Stone, as if his body alone would stop her easily.
“And what are you going to do instead?” she asked, eyes flashing warily.
Merlin was reminded of the time Alvarr had stood against him, wanting to use Mordred just how Nimueh did too. But this time, Merlin couldn’t let it happen. Last time, his hesitance, his reluctance to step up and do what was expected of him, had cost Mordred dearly. Merlin wouldn’t let that happen again, not when he knew what to do now.
“I’m going to stop this,” Merlin said. “I’m going to stop you hurting so many people and make things right.”
He paused, shifting his weight. “Can you really not feel it?” Merlin asked, drawing narrowed eyes from Nimueh. “Can you not feel the magic and how twisted it’s become because of you?”
When she didn’t reply, Merlin continued.
“All the things you have done, do you ever regret any of them?” His voice was softer now, trying to make Nimueh see reason and let Mordred go. “You lost your best friend,” he added, “Because you chose to betray her.”
Nimueh’s chin tilted slightly in surprise.
“I gave Ygraine the son she’d always craved. I grew up with her and knew that she wanted a child more than anything else in the world.” Mordred fidgeted as Nimueh’s grip tightened. “I had the power to give her what she wanted, so I did.”
“By killing an innocent child?” Merlin demanded.
“The innocent child was one of the refugees. He would have died no matter what I had done, I just used him to my best ability.” She closed her eyes, “We all have to die, Merlin, so what does it matter that I used his death? I created a life for my friend. She,” Nimueh all but spat, “Was the one who betrayed me.”
In all the years she’d been the most powerful sorceress, Merlin wondered how much thought Nimueh had put into losing Ygraine. In the end, it had been Uther who had banished her, but it had still been Nimueh’s actions that had caused the divide. Without Nimueh using her magic to help Ygraine conceive, the queen would never have learnt the full truth behind the atrocities of Camelot, and so would never have chosen to leave after the ultimatum.
“Can’t you see how she felt?” Merlin asked, looking at Mordred.
“She abandoned her son and her husband,” Nimueh said in reply, lip curled. “She chose to leave with Gaius and Balinor, abandoning her family. There is no excuse for that,” she said.
Shaking his head, Merlin took a slight step forward.
“Ygraine is a kind-hearted woman. When she learnt the truth about what you were doing, and that both her husband and best friend had gone behind her back and used magic to create a child - sacrificing someone else’s son in the process… what did you expect her to do?” Merlin’s voice was sad, thinking of how much pain Ygraine must have been in, still was, and how much other pain Nimueh and Uther had caused.
“She loves Arthur,” Merlin said, staring Nimueh down. “She thinks about him all the time, but how could she live in a world that believes it’s okay to kill innocent children for their magic?”
He looked pointedly at Mordred, who was wide eyed and trembling. He was pale, having been trapped inside the cubicle, and Merlin could see the awkward angles of his bones sticking through skin, starved as he was.
“She got her child and abandoned him.” Nimueh shook her head dismissively. “She abandoned Camelot and her son, it doesn’t matter how much you say she loved him.”
For a moment, Merlin had thought that Nimueh was listening to him, that she’d understood what he was trying to say. If Nimueh chose to let Mordred go, let him save them all, then she would be able to see Ygraine once more. He had hoped, foolishly he now realised, that Nimueh would still value their friendship after all these years.
“She abandoned me,” Nimueh said. “She turned her back on her kingdom and refused to find a solution. Do you think we all want to keep thousands of people enslaved?”
Nimueh shook her head, walking towards Merlin, stopping as she reached one of the outer stones. Mordred was still clutched in her grasp, but she freed one of her hands and rested it upon one of the Stones.
“There was no other choice,” she said, “And even now we have no other options. Those people will never achieve what the people of the City can, so we offer them a life that’s better. In the cubicles, they don’t have to worry about their next meal, or whether they will die during the night.” She smiled, cruel and cold. “They can just dream and slip into death quietly.”
They had to have found ways to justify what they’d done, Merlin realised. From the start, back when there had only been a handful of people providing magic for the City, it must have been easy. Pick the weak, the terminally ill or the alone and frail. Letting them quietly fall into death would be kinder, it could be rationalised and sold, so that it was easier and fairer for the person.
But on this scale, with thousands of people, there was no way that it could be brushed off and under the carpet. They had needed a cover up, Merlin understood that (after all, to do what they’d felt they had to at such a terrible price had to be self-justified somehow), but it couldn’t work for this day and age.
“There is another choice,” Merlin said. “Magic can be bonded to the Tower, merged with the wires and pathways of modern technology. I’ve seen it happen under my own hands, but carrying on like this is not the way to go and won’t save you.”
Just for a second, Merlin saw Nimueh waver. For just a moment, she looked as though she was going to let Mordred go and trust Merlin, but then something caught her eye and her lips curved in triumph.
Following her gaze, Merlin’s heart plummeted into his stomach. With his shoulders squared and feet planted beside Excalibur, Arthur stone between two Obsidians, hair tousled and furious look on his face as he stared at Nimueh.
“Arthur,” she greeted cordially, reminiscent of how she had parted from them before. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
Arthur shook his head. “Yet here I am,” he said plainly, determinedly not looking at Merlin. “And I heard everything,” he said quietly, wavering in his stance for a split second.
Nimueh didn’t even try to be coy, simply shrugged her shoulders. “Ygraine wanted a child and I gave you to her. She should have been grateful, but look what she did instead. She left you when you were days old to go down to the rabble.”
The waver in Arthur’s stance had vanished, instead replaced with determination. Merlin knew that look, had seen it when they’d been programming the virus to shut down the network across the City, and knew that Arthur had made his mind up against everything that he’d done to break their bond of trust.
“She was given a choice, and I feel proud that she made the right choice.” Arthur clenched his jaw, and while he didn’t know more than what he’d heard here, he clearly trusted Merlin more than Nimueh and knew what was right and wrong.
“I might not have known my mother,” he said, voice breaking ever so slightly on the last word, “But I know that she would have done something because it was right. If what you said was true,” and here he did shoot a glance at Merlin, waiting for the confirming nod, “Then she didn’t abandon me. She was forced to abandon me by two people she loved and trusted.”
At the last word, Merlin looked down, not wanting to catch Arthur’s eye in case their gazes met. At the moment, Merlin was little different to Uther and Ygraine for what he had done.
Nimueh closed her eyes, pulling Mordred closer as she turned back to Merlin and opened her eyes once more.
“I’m going to give you a choice now Merlin,” she said, turning away from Arthur and ignoring him as if he’d never been there.
Merlin shifted warily, preparing to take action if he needed to, for whatever Nimueh was planning.
“To reinforce the spells, I need someone with magic in the very core of their soul, entwined with every fibre of their body.” She smiled again, meeting Merlin’s gaze with satisfaction. “So I’m giving you a choice; Mordred or Arthur.”
Shock wracked through Merlin, chilling his blood and coursing through his magic, sending it haywire under his skin. He understood what Nimueh meant; she could only use pure magic for what she wanted to do, ripping it from either Mordred or Arthur to bind her spells.
It was an innocent kind of magic, similar to Merlin’s, that the pair possessed. In Arthur’s case, it was what had helped to conceive him and was part of him, just as his blood and his skin. For Mordred, his power was like Merlin’s and he’d been born with it, raised with intent to conquer the City of Camelot. Except he was just a child, a frightened boy who was weak and alone. Mordred deserved more, but Merlin was being told to choose.
“What if I refuse?” he replied, calmer and steadier than he felt.
In answer, Nimueh raised her free hand, drawing Excalibur from the ground and twisting the blade until it pointed towards Arthur’s chest. She then curled her fingers, pushing Mordred forwards so that he stumbled over, and then set the sword in his direction.
“I’m being kind,” she said suddenly, and Merlin looked between Arthur and Mordred. The child was crumpled on the floor while Arthur stood so tall and strong, yet frozen and uncertain by the events that were transpiring.
After everything, after he’d thought the choice had been made, everything came crashing around Merlin. How could he choose between Mordred and Arthur, a child who had come to him for safety and a man who had called for him over an Ocean. Maybe before he knew Mordred or Arthur properly the choice would have been easy, but he knew and loved them both, yet was expected to choose?
One of them would save Camelot and the other would lead the City in ruins, but Merlin couldn’t tell which was which. This was his choice, the choice that Kilgharrah had warned him of, but how was he supposed to choose?
He remembered the tiny book of Arthur’s, dog-eared and well read. Mykonos; the place that had defined the future of the world, and a battle between gods and titans. The similarities were unnerving, drawing parallels between the titans and Mordred, and the gods and Arthur.
The titans had been rulers of the earth, keepers of natural powers, while the gods had ruled over all. They had been entwined together, born from the same powers in much the same way that both Arthur and Mordred were from magic. Arthur was the ruler, the one who would lead Camelot into greatness, but Mordred was just a child, one who had been used his whole life.
Merlin closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, he wasn’t supposed to have to choose. He was supposed to save them all, not be the one to make the choice.
The Obsidian hummed under his touch, and Merlin felt it resonate through his magic. There was something more here, something deeper, and Merlin looked at the Stone, frowning.
“If you don’t make the choice, then I’ll do it for you,” Nimueh said, her voice firm. Excalibur glinted as she twisted the blade, moving slowly through the air to hover directly between the triangle Merlin, Mordred and Arthur made, in an impressive, costly display of magic.
Merlin ran his hand down the Stone, feeling the magic respond to his touch, and let his own magic slip gently over the Stone in return.
“How can I make a choice like that?” Merlin asked, turning his eyes to Nimueh. She tilted her head slightly, arching an eyebrow, and Merlin continued. “I can’t do that,” he said, curling his fingers against the Obsidian.
Kilgharrah has said that Merlin needed to make a choice. His choice would shape the future of Albion, but condemning her or saving her. But the choice wasn’t between Arthur and Mordred, it never had been really; it was a choice between Merlin and Nimueh.
“Fine,” Nimueh said, reaching to move Excalibur again, but Merlin moved quicker.
With a quick dart of his hand, Excalibur was wrenched from Nimueh’s control and she shrieked, taking a step forwards as Merlin wrapped his hand around the hilt of the sword. Like before, it was still just as heavy, but Merlin’s purpose drove him and he drove the sword into the Obsidian with a flash of his eyes. The sword struck deep, sinking into the Stone with ease, and Merlin smiled triumphantly, stomach clenching at the sudden rush of power that snaked through the sword.
“I refuse to choose between them,” Merlin said, turning to a pale-faced Nimueh. There was no way that she would be able to wrench the sword out with her magic, but that wasn’t the only reason Merlin had done it.
“I told you to let me sort this out and you refused to listen to me,” he continued and Nimueh’s eyes widened as she finally, finally, understood what Merlin was going to do. Her face relaxed and she shook her head slightly, lips curling into a smirk.
“You’re pitiful,” she began, “To think that you will be able to do it alone.”
“But I’m not alone,” Merlin said with an honest smile, looking to Mordred and then Arthur, both figures frozen, watching as magic began to fall thickly into the area, as if a sack of grain had been damaged and the wares were spilling free. “I have the people I love, the people I’ll be saving and the Old Magic itself.”
With a quirk of the lips, Merlin added, “The magic wants to be used; you just chose not to listen,” before he turned his back and placed both hands on Excalibur’s hilt, summoning every ounce of magic inside of him and forcing it into the ball in his chest.
Dimly, as though they were far away, Merlin heard Arthur call his name and Nimueh shout something in anger, but he was too far gone at that point. This time, with his eyes open, Merlin could see the magic prickle onto his skin, glowing as it moved up and out, reflecting off even the Obsidian and casting pearls of light all around the Circle.
The magic running through the Circle began to pick up, moving through the channels that had existed for centuries under Merlin’s command, holding Mordred, Nimueh and Arthur in place. They couldn’t stop him now, but Merlin knew that one of them would at least try, and that was something he couldn’t afford, not now when he’d finally, finally, figured everything out.
His choice had been to sacrifice someone he loved, or himself. Kilgharrah’s words hadn’t revealed that, Merlin had never thought of it before, but he knew that this was the choice and that he’d chosen to save Camelot and, by extension, Albion. Both Mordred and Arthur would live, Merlin’s choice making sure of that, and in sacrificing every inch of magic, Merlin could use it to right the wrongs of the past.
The ball in his chest broke as Merlin pushed at it, the power too much to contain. In an instant he felt it blossom, gathering magic from the Circle and spiralling down the channels that had been spelled years before. The connections to the people in the cubicles broke, snapping like spider webs, under Merlin’s will, and it was easy for him to will the magic into the Tower, shoot down to the earth and stir the magic that had guided him here to his wishes.
Merlin didn’t know how long he guided the magic for, but he could feel the Tower respond. The pathways sorcerers had built into the structure at its very creation were fused, locked in place and replenished with magic, tasks that had never been finished and forgotten, the easier solution to rip magic from children.
When he was done, still glowing, though it had dimmed slightly, Merlin dug deep and felt for the bond that connected him to Kilgharrah. With his hands still grasped around Excalibur, using the sword for support more than anything now, Merlin searched for the connection between the dragon and the Obsidians, diffusing the invisible links with ease.
After that, Merlin felt his body sagging, the glow of magic fizzing up dry and burning into nothingness. He was done, emptied for the first time in his life, and he felt his body fall backwards, futilely grabbing for Excalibur as he hit the ground.
Dimly, as his body jerked, trying to cling to the magic Merlin had forced out, Merlin was aware of someone rushing to his side, holding him, and then they were gone. His eyes rolled back in his head as a strange sound rang out through the circle, like stone on stone, and then there was the garbled cry, but he couldn’t pick out who had made the cry.
As he felt the last simmers of magic float from his body, passing into the ground in attempt to muster up the Old Magic - magic that wouldn’t come because of all the damage Nimueh had caused in this area - someone slipped their arms around Merlin’s neck, pulling him onto their lap. Smaller hands took his, someone kneeling at his other side, and the larger presence, the warmer one his head was rested against, bent low to whisper in his ear, but it was too late and Merlin was gone, his magic emptied and destiny fulfilled.
.
| Part Fourteen|
It took five more days of tentative planning before Arthur came up with the idea that would buy them the time needed to get to the Stone Circle.
They had quickly realised that any action they needed to take would have to be done through the Obsidians. Speculating on their knowledge of the connections and what Merlin wanted - for Camelot to join with the Old Magic in the earth - Arthur had directed their thoughts, making Merlin think and planning, the pair realising that they would need the Circle itself.
“It’ll be difficult to get to,” Arthur had said, frowning once they’d decided what needed to be done. “And Nimueh would do everything in her power to stop us.”
Merlin had nodded, and they’d gone back to their plans, trying to find a way in which they could get around everyone and down to the Circles. According to Arthur, the only entrance to the Circle was deep in the heart of the castle, down in the dungeons and beyond any area anyone would usually frequent. Getting to that area, however, was a different matter, for the castle would be teeming with life, no matter what time of day.
So they needed a distraction, something big that would divert attention. They’d contemplated everything from starting a riot (if you looked for the right people, you could muster up a force, Arthur was almost certain) to performing a display of magic in the centre of the Square. It took hours of angered conversations, frustration and headaches, but they finally came up with a plan.
“What if,” Arthur began, eyes darting over the computer screen they had up, fingers clacking away on the keyboard. “We need a big distraction,” he continued, hitting one last button before turning to Merlin.
“Yeah,” Merlin said, shrugging. He knew that.
“What if we shut down the entire electrical system?” Arthur said, breathless and excited. His eyes were wide and Merlin wanted nothing more than to pull him close and kiss him, reignite the bond they’d forged at the Isle and tell Arthur how amazing he was.
Kilgharrah had said that Merlin’s dragon would be smart, someone who could use an Obsidian without magic and manipulate the channels to his whim. Over the weeks, Merlin had gathered enough information to see that Arthur was renown amongst Uther’s ranks, or his knights. They were the clever ones, Uther’s match to Nimueh’s sorcerers, working on the electrical channels as opposed to the magic of the City, and Arthur was the best.
It was no surprise that Arthur would think of something to do with the electrical system, but to shut it all down… was it even possible?
“How would you do that?” Merlin asked.
“I can pull up the basic codes that the entire system depends on. They’re archaic, barely upgraded from when they were put in place, and I’ve messed around with them enough that I won’t be a bull in a china shop.” He paused, considering. “Though granted what we want to do, perhaps I ought to be a bull in a china shop.”
He gave a wry grin before carrying on. “If I can tweak the code, I can get the entire City to shut down. Under that, my father will have no choice but to enforce the emergency protocol and put up a lockdown until they get the system back up.”
While he didn’t understand everything Arthur had said, Merlin knew that it wouldn’t be easy.
“How long will it give us?” he asked quietly, and Arthur turned back to the screen.
“A hour, maybe two. Long enough for us to get from here to the Circle at any rate.” He pressed a few more keys, bringing up a pitch black screen. “I’m going to look at the code again, see what I can figure out.”
Merlin left him to it, walking over to the sofa, humming to himself. His magic was content, laying lazily inside of him, but he used it to pick up Arthur’s battered copy of Mykonos, flicking through the pages and imagining, not for the first time, what Arthur saw in this tiny book.
“It belonged to my mother,” a voice said, and Merlin startled slightly, not having realised Arthur was behind him, arms leaning on the back of the sofa. “My father gave it to me when I was old enough and though it’s a far cry from a fairy tale, there was always something realistic in the tale.”
He moved around the side of the sofa, coming to sit by Merlin, throwing an arm across the back of the setee.
“It’s not a perfect story. Some good people lose and some bad people win. Nothing is tidy in the end and there’s a lot of suffering they all went through, as well as hard choices.” Arthur swallowed. “I never had fairy tales and ‘once upon a time’s until I saw you.”
“They’re not all bad,” Merlin whispered, letting the book float back onto the table, turning his body so that his knees rested on the cushion beneath him and Arthur was in front of him.
“They can teach you things,” Merlin continued, letting his gaze wander down, until he could catalogue every wrinkle, every freckle and groove, that made up Arthur’s face. “They can teach you to love, to fight for what is right, to seek justice and to stick to your cause.”
Arthur blinked slowly, wetting his lips. Merlin watched the trail his tongue left, shifting forwards very slightly, close to desperation in what he wanted. It wasn’t his magic this time, lethargic and curled inside of him, almost undetectable.
He was about to reach out and brush his fingers down Arthur’s cheek when the prince moved, backing away and standing, tall and imposing. Merlin couldn’t look away, not even as Arthur flared his nostrils, retreating to his bedroom.
It was late, and Merlin sighed, beginning to set his bed up for the night. He hadn’t even touched Arthur and he’d scared him off, so what hope was there now? It had been Merlin’s magic that Arthur had felt and liked at the Isle, another manipulation to link them together to Merlin could be Emrys and complete his destiny.
He didn’t want that though. What he’d had with Arthur, he’d been so sure that it was more than just his magic. He’d been so sure that Arthur had wanted him, felt their connection and that it hadn’t just been because of the magic. He wanted Arthur, and had been so sure…
“Merlin?” Arthur asked softly, framed in the glow of light from his room. The rest of the house was dark now, save for the blinking light of the computer, and Merlin’s head snapped to look at him.
He sounded so unsure of himself, so Merlin stood, legs shaky as he untangled himself from the sheets.
“I…” Arthur began, before looking down, rubbing the back of his head and mussing up his hair. “I’ve never heard a fairy tale,” he admitted, glancing up briefly, a flash of white against a silhouette.
“Oh,” Merlin replied, taking a step forward, and then another, until he stood before Arthur, hesitant.
“You can stay,” he added, moving to grip Merlin’s wrist lightly, fingers warm where they brushed Merlin’s skin. “It’s comfier than the sofa and I won’t do anything.”
Merlin could have added that he wouldn’t have minded if Arthur did choose to do something, but he led Arthur into his room and waited for Arthur to climb into the large bed.
There was space enough, though their legs brushed each other. Neither made the decision to move back, away from each other, and Arthur flicked the light off, rolling over until he faced Merlin, one hand in the space between them.
“What story would you like to know?” Merlin asked, taking a bold move to thread his hand with Arthur’s, stroking over the back of his hand, little promising touches that he would tell them all to Arthur should he ask.
“A happy one,” Arthur replied, voice low and husky. “Something where everyone gets their happy ending.”
Merlin took a deep breath and began.
.
The morning broke slowly, without the weather or an alarm to wake him. Merlin woke early, warm and comforted, before he slipped back into sleep, waking hours later, still warm and still comforted.
He knew why; it was hard not to feel Arthur’s chest rising and falling in tandem to his, and where their hands met, Merlin could feel his magic running lazily into Arthur, calling to him in his dreams, reassuring him wherever he was.
Merlin looked up at the ceiling and sighed lightly. He’d spun stories the night before, the classics such as Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White… timeless stories that had been lost in their written forms, but never forgotten from the minds of people. Arthur had soaked up the words, eyes lidded with the need for sleep, but his determination to hear ‘and they lived happily ever after’ winning by miles.
He had listened like a child, soaking the words into his mind and fusing them with his plans. No matter what, first and foremost Arthur was a prince, and as a prince, he wanted what was best for his people. He wanted to save people, just as Merlin did, and together they would. For someone who had never had ‘once upon a time’s and ‘happily ever after’s in his stories, Arthur had never quite believed they existed, something he’d confessed against his pillow, indulging Merlin in his own night-time secrets.
The morning cast Arthur in a different light, made him younger and less of the man Merlin knew him to be. Asleep, Arthur could be his mighty dragon, a beast that would stop at nothing to tear down the walls of the Tower and save his people. In his sleep, Arthur could be the image of his father, turning Merlin out of Camelot to rot on the shores, closing any door of hope forever.
He could be anything, and Arthur had chosen to be by Merlin’s side, sign away his loyalty and placed his people first. Merlin hadn’t had a choice, not really, to come and help Camelot, but Arthur had. He could have changed his mind at any point too - it would have been easy. Nimueh wanted him, and Arthur could be free.
Unlike every monarch before him, Arthur had chosen to fight for what was right, not just what was easy, and that was a thought that Merlin could grow to love in a person.
He shifted away from Arthur, the mattress on his back cold, devoid of body heat the whole night as they’d been huddled together. It was then that Arthur woke, cracking an eye open ever so slightly and humming out a hello.
Merlin had expected an awkward silence or uneasy stepping around each other, but Arthur simply sat up and stretched, throwing his arms out to the side and brushing against Merlin.
“Sorry,” he apologised a moment later, “Breakfast?”
And that was it. Merlin smiled to himself as Arthur left the room, blanket tucked around his legs and one hand braced on his pillow.
After breakfast came more planning, Arthur going through numerous codes, trying to build up a virus that would take down the system while Merlin focused on Aglain’s meditation, building on his magic and trying to feel every inch of the City.
On the second day, Merlin began working on Arthur’s house silently, refusing the channels so that the magic one could sink back into the earth and the electricity could merge fully. It had taken longer than his efforts in Gwen’s house, but that had mainly been because there was so much more for Merlin to do here. He’d never attempted an area this vast before, but it worked, well, and Merlin looked up across the room, smiling at Arthur.
“Turn something on,” he said, drawing an amused smirk from Arthur.
“Why?” he asked.
“Just do it,” Merlin insisted, and Arthur rolled his eyes, moving away from his screen and flicking for the remote on the TV. It flickered to life, and Merlin closed his eyes, feeling for any problems in the system he had created, smiling wider when he sensed nothing, just a stronger channel that had existed prior.
“It worked on your house,” he said, still smiling. “I really think we can do this.”
There was a look in Arthur’s eyes, something that Merlin felt resonate deep within him. They were next to each other, Arthur standing and Merlin seated, but it would be easy to pull him down and close, press their lips together as he’s been wanting to for days now.
Merlin didn’t. And Arthur didn’t. He just took one look at Merlin, placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, smile never falling from his lips.
Together, they worked on their plan for the rest of the day, and the day after. They slept together, barely touching yet unified deeper than simply physical. Merlin’s magic had attuned itself to Arthur, wanted him to be happy you could say, and in their sleep, it drew them together, warm and happy. Arthur knew, but when Merlin had informed him quietly of the matter, he’d thrown an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and laughed, marvelled by the way magic worked rather than disgusted that it had singled him out.
When their plans were done, they lay in the darkness of Arthur’s room, silent yet far from being sleep.
“Merlin?” Arthur asked in the dark, throwing the words into the night sky. “What will happen tomorrow?”
For a long while, Merlin couldn’t think of an answer. He let the words float around them, brain hardly scrambling to answer the question, when a word that had fallen from a dragon’s mouth sprouted from Merlin’s.
“Destiny,” he said, slightly awed. “We were prophesised to do this years ago and we’ll finally do it.”
Arthur was silent, and Merlin shifted, trying to see him through the gloom. There was something more, Merlin felt, something that he hadn’t answered properly.
“I mean,” Arthur muttered a while later, voice husky. “What happens to us? What will you do? What will I do?”
He shifted, the bed dipping as Arthur moved beyond any silent boundary and into Merlin’s personal space.
“What happens if, for whatever reason, one of us is hurt, or taken away or-“
Merlin let a hand graze Arthur’s cheek, hushing the spew of worried words. He let his thumb curl over Arthur’s cheek before he shuffled closer, fitting himself against Arthur.
“I’m not going to let that happen,” Merlin whispered, and he kissed Arthur’s cheek tenderly. “We’re going to be together and win, because there are no other options.”
That was all that needed to be said, and for once, Merlin reacted without the prompt of his magic. It was silent as he met Arthur’s kiss, rolling him over and burying his hands into the pillows either side of Arthur’s head, pressing against him and pushing down, until Arthur arched slightly and gripped back, pulling and pushing, fighting for what they both wanted.
They weren’t explosive or anything overly amazing that Merlin would want to broadcast to the world, but they were a quiet, powerful perfect, fitting together seamlessly in the darkness, Arthur’s broad shoulder’s moving over Merlin and bony knees locking to Arthur’s hips.
His magic remained quiet, and that was how Merlin knew they were meant to be more than any prophecy, more than any sentence in an ancient book.
Tomorrow was the end of the world, but that was okay, because Merlin had Arthur, and Arthur had him.
.
Arthur hit enter on the keyboard before his thumb retreated to his face, rolling the ring on his index finger over his lips. Merlin took his eyes away from Arthur for a moment, but returned them, not understanding the garbled words on the screen or the flicking images.
He looked so young, Merlin thought. He looked in his element, having created this code from scratch and forced it to work. Arthur was proud of his accomplishment, because he knew that it would bring a new age for Camelot, one without slavery or lies.
It took a few moments more, Merlin donning a smile as he saw Arthur’s excitement practically rolling off of his shoulders, until the computer screen went blank and panic consumed him.
“What’s happened?” Merlin rushed out, wondering how they could have miscalculated. Arthur’s fingers pressed a few buttons on the computer, a wolfish grin overtaking his lips as he turned to Merlin.
“Check the kitchen,” he demanded, and Merlin did as told, understanding what Arthur was hoping for.
He flicked a few of the switches on random appliances, but nothing beeped or whirled. Everything was silent and dark, and Arthur gave a whoop of laughter, standing up and throwing his arms around Merlin as he returned.
“We did it!” he exclaimed against Merlin’s ear. “I knew we would, but still!”
Taking Arthur’s head in his hands, Merlin drew him back and smiled, wonder and amazement surely clear in his eyes. Arthur pulled him closer and kissed him softly on the lips, a clear promise that everything was going to change for the better, before he pulled back and walked to the door.
“The Square should be shut down and my father will have ordered the knights to evacuate public places.” Arthur looked positively gleeful at the next words, “It’s the worst scenario he’d have thought of, well short of everyone from the Pickings rising up against him. He won’t understand how it happened, and by the time he gets the best team on it, it’ll be too late. We have plenty of time, but we best get going before an iron curfew’s enforced.”
Merlin followed Arthur to the door, where Arthur took his hand and smiled, pulling Merlin to his side and starting off through the dark streets. Without the electrical sky, Merlin could see that Camelot wasn’t completely enclosed. In fact, the Tower top looked to be similar to a curled flower, petals sprung to open, and wondered if the initial design had thrown the top open, exactly how the Old World would have been.
Moving through the Square was easy, and for once the wishing well remained silent. They ran across the bridge, hardly containing nervous laughter, feet pounding against the floor like children running through a house.
It was strangely liberating to be the only ones in a City that would otherwise be full of busy, fast-paced people. Arthur had slowed them all down, sent them home, so that they could literally work their magic together and create a better world for the next time they stepped from their homes.
Merlin spared a thought for Morgana and Gwen, wondering what they were doing right now, before Arthur crossed the boundary of the palace, leading Merlin to the darkest parts of his castle.
They walked through the darkness of the halls, unafraid of being seen. As Arthur had put it; everyone else would be in a state of lockdown, not willing to come out of their homes as everything they relied upon vanished. Shutting down the entire system that Camelot run on was genius on Arthur's behalf for Merlin to work his magic, but also to stop any unwanted interruptions.
They passed through the palace, Arthur stating that the only way they'd be able to get down into the upper regions of the Tower, where the Stone Circle was, would be through the abandoned dungeons, without having to use the shuttles. Well, having to walk the route of the shuttles, as they were ground to a halt at the lack of electricity.
It was amazing to see how much Camelot depended on the electricity, really, but Merlin couldn't help but feel a little sad. It was like a bird that had lost one of its wings; not really a great City anymore, struggling along on its other wing, the injured, magical one. Without the two, the bird - Camelot - would die, that much was inevitable.
"We'll cut through here," Arthur whispered, shooting away from the corridor they'd been in and moving through to a great hall.
It looked like a throne room, with ornate chairs standing at one end and an empty floor. Perhaps in the old days a king would have held court here, but Merlin knew that Uther would never hold court now, unless it was with the sorcerers, and then they would move to a secretive place, not wanting anyone to be privy to their sins.
They passed through the hall, Merlin barely getting a chance to see any more as Arthur dragged them through, into yet another corridor and then to a curved flight of steps. They moved down with speed, Arthur's hand loose in Merlin's own, but warm and reassuring.
As they reached the base of the steps, meeting a forked junction, Merlin's eyes set upon the wall between the two pathways.
"Merlin?" Arthur questioned, breath heavy, when he realised Merlin wasn't moving. His own eyes alighted on the wall, at the object mounted at the junction, and looked to Merlin.
"Its name is Excalibur. Legends say that it was the sword of the gods, or the ancient kings, depending on which legends you look to. They all agree that it was forged in a dragon's breath, though, and the strongest sword ever known to man." He gave a wry grin and let his hand fall from Merlin's. "And then there are those other legends that say it never had a master, that the sword would not let itself be used by anyone other than the greatest king the world would ever know."
Arthur laughed at that, the sound clear and joyous in the flickering light from the lit beacons that lined the dungeon walls.
"Not many kings liked that legend though. They could never wield Excalibur, some said it was too heavy, for others it was too sluggish, there were thousands of excuses." Arthur looked at Merlin, the nearby firelight flashing in his eyes.
"And what king wants to acknowledge that he won't be the greatest, all down to a sword?" He shrugged his shoulders, taking a step towards the left pathway, stopping when he realised Merlin still wasn't following.
"Merlin?" he asked again, brow furrowing. "We have to go now or we'll run out of time."
Merlin was still fixed on the sword, and took a step towards the blade. He took it from the wall gently, wincing at the sudden weight in his arms. It was a masterpiece, glimmering and golden on the blade and comforting at the hilt. It was, in every way, a perfect sword for the right person.
In the Chronicles of Beltane, the original tome that Arthur had given him, the un-translated legends had spoken of a weapon mightier than any before that Merlin would need. He'd assumed the Old language had been referring to his magic, but looking at Excalibur, Merlin knew there was more to it than just his magic.
They'd need this sword, for whatever reason, and Arthur presented Excalibur to Arthur hilt-first, eyes never leaving Arthur's.
"Take it," he said softly, words firm and leaving no room for Arthur to argue.
"Merlin I-" Arthur said, shaking his head.
"Take your sword," Merlin repeated, nodding a little.
"I am not yet king," Arthur reminded him, still shaking his head and taking a small step back, distancing himself from what Merlin was offering.
Merlin looked away, regretfully, down at the gleaming sword in his hands.
"You think that your father will be king when this is all over?" he asked sadly, meeting Arthur's gaze once more with pity. "Arthur, if we do this, if we succeed, there is no way that he can stay upon his throne."
Gritting his jaw, Merlin continued, "There are terrible things that he has done, things that you would never forgive him for."
Arthur scoffed, "You've told me everything there is to know. Yes they were terrible, but if we can fix it then there's no reason to overthrow the king as well."
This wasn't how Merlin had wanted to tell him. It wasn't how Merlin had planned it at all, and especially not now when so much weighed on them completing this task.
But he had to. It was now or never, and Merlin couldn’t take a step further knowing that he’d lied straight to Arthur’s face. He had to tell him, fuck Arthur had deserved to know right from the start, and Merlin had to do it now.
“When I was with the druids,” he began, letting the sword free of one hand, resting the blade’s tip rest on the ground slightly as Merlin shifted his grip to the hilt. “There was another person who I was with, aside from Gaius. Along with my father and Gaius, she was exiled when she discovered the truth.”
Arthur’s voice was hollow, almost as if he knew what Merlin’s answer was going to be, when he asked, “She?”
“I first knew her as Eigyr, a shy woman who was scared. When I discovered the truth, she told me her full story, how she’d been betrayed by the man she loved and cast aside without even saying a goodbye to her son.”
Merlin couldn’t bear to look at Arthur, not wanting to see the betrayal on his face.
“You were the one who made me realise who she was,” Merlin admitted, still not looking at Arthur. “Back when you showed me the picture of the queen, when we were in the garden.”
Arthur had to have understood by now, Merlin thought, but he still kept his gaze downcast.
“She told me the truth and her real name. She… Ygraine asked me to look for you, to see that you were okay,” Merlin added, desperately hoping that Arthur would accept the tiny olive branch for what it was and be glad that his mother still cared. Selfish, but Merlin didn’t want to lose him.
So Merlin risked a glance at Arthur, and regretted it instantly.
Arthur's face fell dramatically before tightening, all emotion cutting off as the words filtered through to his brain. He frowned slightly, giving a minute shake of his head before a quiet 'no' slipped from his mouth and he looked at Merlin, hard.
"That's ridiculous," he said, but the words were weak. "You said you'd told me everything, about all the crimes the sorcerers had committed and..." Arthur trailed off, voice pitching higher as his frown deepened.
"And Gaius!" he said suddenly. "You told me about Gaius and not... not..."
"Your mother," Merlin said quietly. "I know, I know and I'm sorry, so, so sorry, but it's not something that I could just tell you, there had to be a moment."
The words were a far cry from what Merlin had really wanted to say, but they were out now and there was no way he could take them back.
Arthur took another step back, eyes wide and horrified look on his face.
“I trusted you,” he blurted out suddenly, angry and unable to contain it. “All those times you could have told me and yet you sat there, in my house - in my bed - and said there was nothing more to tell me.” Unadulterated fury was clear in Arthur’s voice, but Merlin just took it, looking down and away, knowing that he had deserved it.
“Arthur,” he said a moment later, breaking the tension between them. “I never wanted to hurt you, but I couldn’t-“
“No Merlin,” Arthur said flatly, “She’s my mother and you lied to me. I can’t…” he broke off with a slightly strangled laugh, narrowing his eyes as he strode forwards, passing Merlin and heading for the stairs.
“I can’t do this with someone I can’t trust,” he said, hideously wicked and yet deservingly so. Arthur spared him one last glance before he was gone, head bowed as he walked up the steps again, leaving Merlin with Excalibur cold and heavy under his hand.
The Chronicles had spoken of Merlin never having to do this alone, yet Arthur was gone. Arthur had walked away and there was nothing that Merlin could do to bring him back. He had lied, betrayed Arthur, all the while knowing that Arthur valued his family relationships above all.
Merlin had forced him to betray Uther, his father, and had secreted away the truth about his mother. How did that make him any different from what Nimueh and the sorcerers were doing? He’d ripped Arthur’s family apart just as well as all the other magic users had, that was without a doubt.
But he had a destiny to fulfil. With or without Arthur, Merlin needed to free the people trapped below them. He would do the best he could with Excalibur and his magic in order to free those in need, and when this was all done, he could apologise to Arthur - properly - and take him to Ygraine. It wouldn’t make up for what he had done, but it would be a start.
So Merlin did what he’d always done, tucked the painful feeling inside of himself, deep somewhere where it couldn’t escape, and he moved forwards to do what he had to, to complete his destiny. It was what he’d done the whole time since he’d been washed up on the shores of the Tower, and apparently what he’d continue to do, alone, until his goal was met.
He was foolish for thinking that Arthur would have stayed with him. Every time Merlin had gotten close to someone, they’d been taken away or left. This destiny was something that he had to do alone now, without help, because the more help he received, the more people ended up hurt.
So Merlin took Excalibur up, more firmly now, and stepped forward down the corridor that would lead him through the dungeons and down to the Circle. The sword was heavy and uncomfortable, itching against his magic as it fought against Merlin, telling him that Excalibur was Arthur’s, but Merlin just adjusted his grip, the tip of the blade just touching the ground as he walked.
As he’d done weeks before when moving down to visit Kilgharrah, Merlin walked on autopilot, thoughts buzzing as he placed one foot in front of the other, simple and easy. Left, right, left, right, not focusing on the fact that he’d lost Arthur and would be alone through this now.
Before when he’d seen Nimueh, Merlin realised, he’d had Arthur and there hadn’t been the same fear that was beginning to coil in his stomach. Back then, Nimueh had been beatable, because Arthur was there and they’d been in it together.
Was this the choice? Had Merlin choosing to tell Arthur about Ygraine influenced whether or not he would complete his task or result in the world’s destruction? Surely not though, and even though it had shattered Merlin’s bond with Arthur, it wouldn’t have that big an impact on the rest of the world.
But Merlin hadn’t chosen between people, and he’d always felt that that would be the choice he’d have had to make.
He clenched his jaw as the corridor opened out, revealing a metal-wrought gate, open and leading into darkness-shrouded stairs.
This was it, Merlin realised. There would be no turning back after this, and his grip on Excalibur tightened.as he shuffled forwards. This was his destiny, what he’d crossed the Ocean for and lost his family for. It wasn’t for Arthur, he told himself, wasn’t because a holographic-dragon had asked for his help.
The air drew colder as Merlin moved down wide, stone steps, emerging a little while later on a platform similar to the queen’s garden’s. It wasn’t as ruined, but greenery sprung up from the ground, natural yet wrong, and covered the earth near the huge, black stones jutting out of the earth.
This close to them, Merlin could feel magic resonating in his own Obsidian, the Stone - tiny compared to the ones it was hewn from - vibrated with the power around them and through Merlin’s core. His own magic tingled, but didn’t react, comforted by the presence of the Old Magic as opposed to wary of it.
He basked in the feeling for a few minutes, almost completely unaware of everything around him as magic swirled around him curiously. He was something new and old at the same time, and the magic responded to his very whim, coiling around him like a curious child, intent on discovering his secrets.
Excalibur fell from his grip as the magic within the Obsidians shifted, responding to Merlin in a way he knew they hadn’t to anyone for a long time. He moved to the stone that was central to the Circle, larger and thicker than the others, and laid his palm flat against its surface, closing his eyes.
In that moment, Merlin could feel the thousands of connections that had been forced upon the natural magic. He could feel the decay within the connections, of the corruption that had been forced into the natural magic under the sorcerer’s twisting spells. He could feel the pain and the sorrow of the connections, thousands, and then the huge, rumbling thread that pulled to Kilgharrah.
There was something else, too, a darker thread and a smaller one, fainter than any of the others yet the tingle behind it was stronger, closer. Merlin opened his eyes and turned, unsurprised to see Nimueh. And then his eyes caught sight of the small figure hunched at Nimueh’s side, the source of the smaller thread, and felt his stomach drop as he met Mordred’s frightened gaze.
“I knew you’d come,” Nimueh said, lips curling viciously. “That you would put stock in the prophecy and try to change everything.”
Merlin looked back over to where Excalibur lay in the grass, a small clump of flowers covering the hilt. It was too far away for Merlin to reach without notice, and if he tried, he knew that Nimueh would be able to stop him with ease. She had years of practice for bending the Obsidian’s magic to her whim and as such, her powers would be greater near the Circle. She would easily be able to pluck the sword from his hands and turn it against him. Better that she forgot about it, if she even knew it was there.
If Mordred hadn’t been there, things would have been easier. Merlin could have used his magic to overpower Nimueh, easily. Except Mordred was there, a frightened child, who could probably only remember being fired at with the stunner gun as his last memory before being plucked from his cubicle.
“Let him go,” Merlin said, hands out to his side and palms facing Nimueh, trying to show her that he wasn’t a threat, so long as she did as he asked.
She simple shook her head, amused.
“Do you know who this boy is? What he represents?” Nimueh waited for Merlin’s answer, yet he couldn’t form the words. “He is our salvation, because he has the perfect amount of power that the Obsidians need. Without his magic, our grip on the sealing spells will lessen, but with it, we can return to a golden age.”
Merlin realised then that not even Nimueh could feel what he felt. Even though Gaius had mentioned Merlin was one of a kind and Aglain had repeated that he was unlike any magic user he’d seen before, Merlin had always assumed that Nimueh, the most powerful sorceress since before the waters flooded the earth the first time, would be like him, that she’d be able to sense the magic all around them.
With what she’d said, however, Merlin knew that she had never felt it. She didn’t know how much damage she’d caused in performing the sealing spells and just assumed that more magic would solve the problem. She was willing to sacrifice Mordred’s life to push magic into the problem, hoping it would solve it without considering that she could do further damage.
Though, if Mordred’s magic could be channelled through the Stones in the way that Merlin was planning to use his own, then maybe Nimueh’s plan would work. However, Merlin could tell that she wasn’t willing to listen to him, and that any plan she had wouldn’t be in the interest of saving the City, but saving the bonds tying the wild magic to the people taken from the Pickings.
Nimueh wasn’t interested in the people, but Merlin was.
“You’re only going to harm innocent people,” Merlin said firmly, shifting so that he was placed directly between Nimueh and the central Stone, as if his body alone would stop her easily.
“And what are you going to do instead?” she asked, eyes flashing warily.
Merlin was reminded of the time Alvarr had stood against him, wanting to use Mordred just how Nimueh did too. But this time, Merlin couldn’t let it happen. Last time, his hesitance, his reluctance to step up and do what was expected of him, had cost Mordred dearly. Merlin wouldn’t let that happen again, not when he knew what to do now.
“I’m going to stop this,” Merlin said. “I’m going to stop you hurting so many people and make things right.”
He paused, shifting his weight. “Can you really not feel it?” Merlin asked, drawing narrowed eyes from Nimueh. “Can you not feel the magic and how twisted it’s become because of you?”
When she didn’t reply, Merlin continued.
“All the things you have done, do you ever regret any of them?” His voice was softer now, trying to make Nimueh see reason and let Mordred go. “You lost your best friend,” he added, “Because you chose to betray her.”
Nimueh’s chin tilted slightly in surprise.
“I gave Ygraine the son she’d always craved. I grew up with her and knew that she wanted a child more than anything else in the world.” Mordred fidgeted as Nimueh’s grip tightened. “I had the power to give her what she wanted, so I did.”
“By killing an innocent child?” Merlin demanded.
“The innocent child was one of the refugees. He would have died no matter what I had done, I just used him to my best ability.” She closed her eyes, “We all have to die, Merlin, so what does it matter that I used his death? I created a life for my friend. She,” Nimueh all but spat, “Was the one who betrayed me.”
In all the years she’d been the most powerful sorceress, Merlin wondered how much thought Nimueh had put into losing Ygraine. In the end, it had been Uther who had banished her, but it had still been Nimueh’s actions that had caused the divide. Without Nimueh using her magic to help Ygraine conceive, the queen would never have learnt the full truth behind the atrocities of Camelot, and so would never have chosen to leave after the ultimatum.
“Can’t you see how she felt?” Merlin asked, looking at Mordred.
“She abandoned her son and her husband,” Nimueh said in reply, lip curled. “She chose to leave with Gaius and Balinor, abandoning her family. There is no excuse for that,” she said.
Shaking his head, Merlin took a slight step forward.
“Ygraine is a kind-hearted woman. When she learnt the truth about what you were doing, and that both her husband and best friend had gone behind her back and used magic to create a child - sacrificing someone else’s son in the process… what did you expect her to do?” Merlin’s voice was sad, thinking of how much pain Ygraine must have been in, still was, and how much other pain Nimueh and Uther had caused.
“She loves Arthur,” Merlin said, staring Nimueh down. “She thinks about him all the time, but how could she live in a world that believes it’s okay to kill innocent children for their magic?”
He looked pointedly at Mordred, who was wide eyed and trembling. He was pale, having been trapped inside the cubicle, and Merlin could see the awkward angles of his bones sticking through skin, starved as he was.
“She got her child and abandoned him.” Nimueh shook her head dismissively. “She abandoned Camelot and her son, it doesn’t matter how much you say she loved him.”
For a moment, Merlin had thought that Nimueh was listening to him, that she’d understood what he was trying to say. If Nimueh chose to let Mordred go, let him save them all, then she would be able to see Ygraine once more. He had hoped, foolishly he now realised, that Nimueh would still value their friendship after all these years.
“She abandoned me,” Nimueh said. “She turned her back on her kingdom and refused to find a solution. Do you think we all want to keep thousands of people enslaved?”
Nimueh shook her head, walking towards Merlin, stopping as she reached one of the outer stones. Mordred was still clutched in her grasp, but she freed one of her hands and rested it upon one of the Stones.
“There was no other choice,” she said, “And even now we have no other options. Those people will never achieve what the people of the City can, so we offer them a life that’s better. In the cubicles, they don’t have to worry about their next meal, or whether they will die during the night.” She smiled, cruel and cold. “They can just dream and slip into death quietly.”
They had to have found ways to justify what they’d done, Merlin realised. From the start, back when there had only been a handful of people providing magic for the City, it must have been easy. Pick the weak, the terminally ill or the alone and frail. Letting them quietly fall into death would be kinder, it could be rationalised and sold, so that it was easier and fairer for the person.
But on this scale, with thousands of people, there was no way that it could be brushed off and under the carpet. They had needed a cover up, Merlin understood that (after all, to do what they’d felt they had to at such a terrible price had to be self-justified somehow), but it couldn’t work for this day and age.
“There is another choice,” Merlin said. “Magic can be bonded to the Tower, merged with the wires and pathways of modern technology. I’ve seen it happen under my own hands, but carrying on like this is not the way to go and won’t save you.”
Just for a second, Merlin saw Nimueh waver. For just a moment, she looked as though she was going to let Mordred go and trust Merlin, but then something caught her eye and her lips curved in triumph.
Following her gaze, Merlin’s heart plummeted into his stomach. With his shoulders squared and feet planted beside Excalibur, Arthur stone between two Obsidians, hair tousled and furious look on his face as he stared at Nimueh.
“Arthur,” she greeted cordially, reminiscent of how she had parted from them before. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
Arthur shook his head. “Yet here I am,” he said plainly, determinedly not looking at Merlin. “And I heard everything,” he said quietly, wavering in his stance for a split second.
Nimueh didn’t even try to be coy, simply shrugged her shoulders. “Ygraine wanted a child and I gave you to her. She should have been grateful, but look what she did instead. She left you when you were days old to go down to the rabble.”
The waver in Arthur’s stance had vanished, instead replaced with determination. Merlin knew that look, had seen it when they’d been programming the virus to shut down the network across the City, and knew that Arthur had made his mind up against everything that he’d done to break their bond of trust.
“She was given a choice, and I feel proud that she made the right choice.” Arthur clenched his jaw, and while he didn’t know more than what he’d heard here, he clearly trusted Merlin more than Nimueh and knew what was right and wrong.
“I might not have known my mother,” he said, voice breaking ever so slightly on the last word, “But I know that she would have done something because it was right. If what you said was true,” and here he did shoot a glance at Merlin, waiting for the confirming nod, “Then she didn’t abandon me. She was forced to abandon me by two people she loved and trusted.”
At the last word, Merlin looked down, not wanting to catch Arthur’s eye in case their gazes met. At the moment, Merlin was little different to Uther and Ygraine for what he had done.
Nimueh closed her eyes, pulling Mordred closer as she turned back to Merlin and opened her eyes once more.
“I’m going to give you a choice now Merlin,” she said, turning away from Arthur and ignoring him as if he’d never been there.
Merlin shifted warily, preparing to take action if he needed to, for whatever Nimueh was planning.
“To reinforce the spells, I need someone with magic in the very core of their soul, entwined with every fibre of their body.” She smiled again, meeting Merlin’s gaze with satisfaction. “So I’m giving you a choice; Mordred or Arthur.”
Shock wracked through Merlin, chilling his blood and coursing through his magic, sending it haywire under his skin. He understood what Nimueh meant; she could only use pure magic for what she wanted to do, ripping it from either Mordred or Arthur to bind her spells.
It was an innocent kind of magic, similar to Merlin’s, that the pair possessed. In Arthur’s case, it was what had helped to conceive him and was part of him, just as his blood and his skin. For Mordred, his power was like Merlin’s and he’d been born with it, raised with intent to conquer the City of Camelot. Except he was just a child, a frightened boy who was weak and alone. Mordred deserved more, but Merlin was being told to choose.
“What if I refuse?” he replied, calmer and steadier than he felt.
In answer, Nimueh raised her free hand, drawing Excalibur from the ground and twisting the blade until it pointed towards Arthur’s chest. She then curled her fingers, pushing Mordred forwards so that he stumbled over, and then set the sword in his direction.
“I’m being kind,” she said suddenly, and Merlin looked between Arthur and Mordred. The child was crumpled on the floor while Arthur stood so tall and strong, yet frozen and uncertain by the events that were transpiring.
After everything, after he’d thought the choice had been made, everything came crashing around Merlin. How could he choose between Mordred and Arthur, a child who had come to him for safety and a man who had called for him over an Ocean. Maybe before he knew Mordred or Arthur properly the choice would have been easy, but he knew and loved them both, yet was expected to choose?
One of them would save Camelot and the other would lead the City in ruins, but Merlin couldn’t tell which was which. This was his choice, the choice that Kilgharrah had warned him of, but how was he supposed to choose?
He remembered the tiny book of Arthur’s, dog-eared and well read. Mykonos; the place that had defined the future of the world, and a battle between gods and titans. The similarities were unnerving, drawing parallels between the titans and Mordred, and the gods and Arthur.
The titans had been rulers of the earth, keepers of natural powers, while the gods had ruled over all. They had been entwined together, born from the same powers in much the same way that both Arthur and Mordred were from magic. Arthur was the ruler, the one who would lead Camelot into greatness, but Mordred was just a child, one who had been used his whole life.
Merlin closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, he wasn’t supposed to have to choose. He was supposed to save them all, not be the one to make the choice.
The Obsidian hummed under his touch, and Merlin felt it resonate through his magic. There was something more here, something deeper, and Merlin looked at the Stone, frowning.
“If you don’t make the choice, then I’ll do it for you,” Nimueh said, her voice firm. Excalibur glinted as she twisted the blade, moving slowly through the air to hover directly between the triangle Merlin, Mordred and Arthur made, in an impressive, costly display of magic.
Merlin ran his hand down the Stone, feeling the magic respond to his touch, and let his own magic slip gently over the Stone in return.
“How can I make a choice like that?” Merlin asked, turning his eyes to Nimueh. She tilted her head slightly, arching an eyebrow, and Merlin continued. “I can’t do that,” he said, curling his fingers against the Obsidian.
Kilgharrah has said that Merlin needed to make a choice. His choice would shape the future of Albion, but condemning her or saving her. But the choice wasn’t between Arthur and Mordred, it never had been really; it was a choice between Merlin and Nimueh.
“Fine,” Nimueh said, reaching to move Excalibur again, but Merlin moved quicker.
With a quick dart of his hand, Excalibur was wrenched from Nimueh’s control and she shrieked, taking a step forwards as Merlin wrapped his hand around the hilt of the sword. Like before, it was still just as heavy, but Merlin’s purpose drove him and he drove the sword into the Obsidian with a flash of his eyes. The sword struck deep, sinking into the Stone with ease, and Merlin smiled triumphantly, stomach clenching at the sudden rush of power that snaked through the sword.
“I refuse to choose between them,” Merlin said, turning to a pale-faced Nimueh. There was no way that she would be able to wrench the sword out with her magic, but that wasn’t the only reason Merlin had done it.
“I told you to let me sort this out and you refused to listen to me,” he continued and Nimueh’s eyes widened as she finally, finally, understood what Merlin was going to do. Her face relaxed and she shook her head slightly, lips curling into a smirk.
“You’re pitiful,” she began, “To think that you will be able to do it alone.”
“But I’m not alone,” Merlin said with an honest smile, looking to Mordred and then Arthur, both figures frozen, watching as magic began to fall thickly into the area, as if a sack of grain had been damaged and the wares were spilling free. “I have the people I love, the people I’ll be saving and the Old Magic itself.”
With a quirk of the lips, Merlin added, “The magic wants to be used; you just chose not to listen,” before he turned his back and placed both hands on Excalibur’s hilt, summoning every ounce of magic inside of him and forcing it into the ball in his chest.
Dimly, as though they were far away, Merlin heard Arthur call his name and Nimueh shout something in anger, but he was too far gone at that point. This time, with his eyes open, Merlin could see the magic prickle onto his skin, glowing as it moved up and out, reflecting off even the Obsidian and casting pearls of light all around the Circle.
The magic running through the Circle began to pick up, moving through the channels that had existed for centuries under Merlin’s command, holding Mordred, Nimueh and Arthur in place. They couldn’t stop him now, but Merlin knew that one of them would at least try, and that was something he couldn’t afford, not now when he’d finally, finally, figured everything out.
His choice had been to sacrifice someone he loved, or himself. Kilgharrah’s words hadn’t revealed that, Merlin had never thought of it before, but he knew that this was the choice and that he’d chosen to save Camelot and, by extension, Albion. Both Mordred and Arthur would live, Merlin’s choice making sure of that, and in sacrificing every inch of magic, Merlin could use it to right the wrongs of the past.
The ball in his chest broke as Merlin pushed at it, the power too much to contain. In an instant he felt it blossom, gathering magic from the Circle and spiralling down the channels that had been spelled years before. The connections to the people in the cubicles broke, snapping like spider webs, under Merlin’s will, and it was easy for him to will the magic into the Tower, shoot down to the earth and stir the magic that had guided him here to his wishes.
Merlin didn’t know how long he guided the magic for, but he could feel the Tower respond. The pathways sorcerers had built into the structure at its very creation were fused, locked in place and replenished with magic, tasks that had never been finished and forgotten, the easier solution to rip magic from children.
When he was done, still glowing, though it had dimmed slightly, Merlin dug deep and felt for the bond that connected him to Kilgharrah. With his hands still grasped around Excalibur, using the sword for support more than anything now, Merlin searched for the connection between the dragon and the Obsidians, diffusing the invisible links with ease.
After that, Merlin felt his body sagging, the glow of magic fizzing up dry and burning into nothingness. He was done, emptied for the first time in his life, and he felt his body fall backwards, futilely grabbing for Excalibur as he hit the ground.
Dimly, as his body jerked, trying to cling to the magic Merlin had forced out, Merlin was aware of someone rushing to his side, holding him, and then they were gone. His eyes rolled back in his head as a strange sound rang out through the circle, like stone on stone, and then there was the garbled cry, but he couldn’t pick out who had made the cry.
As he felt the last simmers of magic float from his body, passing into the ground in attempt to muster up the Old Magic - magic that wouldn’t come because of all the damage Nimueh had caused in this area - someone slipped their arms around Merlin’s neck, pulling him onto their lap. Smaller hands took his, someone kneeling at his other side, and the larger presence, the warmer one his head was rested against, bent low to whisper in his ear, but it was too late and Merlin was gone, his magic emptied and destiny fulfilled.
.
| Part Fourteen|