Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Four

[jadedlane]

The convoy of the queen’s party had passed by and the tourists had moved with her, leaving Merlin to stand in the clearing by himself, occasionally jostled by a guest who wasn’t paying attention to anything but the shops that surrounded them. Merlin watched the shrinking group of royals as they made their way down to the arena and attempted to shake the chill that had rippled down his spine when he had caught the queen’s gaze.

He had never really liked Morgana. Not that he had much personal interaction with the dear queen or anything like that. She never spoke to anyone but her attendants and Merlin kept mostly to himself and Gwen, sometimes Gaius for company, or, if he was truly desperate, he’d joke around with Gwaine when the man wasn’t getting tomatoes thrown in his face. But there was something about the queen that just made Merlin uncomfortable, like there was something pulsing beneath his skin that awoke only when she was around.

It was odd to say the least.

But the feeling filtered away as Queen Morgana drifted off to be honored in the daily jousting tournament. He shrugged a single shoulder, attempting to bump off the rest of the creepy feeling left beneath his skin and turned to head towards Gwaine’s booth, forgetting that the man who used his loud voice to insult tourists and goad them into throwing rotten food at him was also the one who used his loud voice to rile up those same tourists into rooting for their favorite knights.

As he turned, Merlin barely got one step before the wind was knocked out of him and he was nearly pushed off of his feet with the force of running straight into a brick wall.

“Ow!” He cried out, stumbling back and holding his nose, which had gotten the brunt of the impact. Merlin’s eyes watered as he looked up and could only see a glittering gold lion romping on a field of scarlet fabric. His gaze traveled upwards and finally settled on the light smirk of one of Arthur’s cohorts, a knight named Sir Leon.

“Easy there, my boy, wouldn’t want to have you bumping into one of our guests, now would we?” Leon had a slight smirk on his lips, although that was generally unusual considering his serious demeanor. Merlin glowered as he rubbed at his nose and attempted to stand up a bit straighter, forcing the height difference to become not so drastic between him and the knight.

“Sir Leon, I’d expect you to be down at the arena, preparing for the tournament,” Merlin replied, attempting to keep any sort of contempt or attitude out of his words. When they weren’t jousting, Arthur and his knights liked parading around the faire grounds. One of their favorite spots besides the food stalls was the gaming area where they could impress the tourists with their precise aim and ability to collect numerous prizes. Leon was one of the few knights that respected the rules as well as those that ran the booths. He seemed to watch over the younger men more than anything else, only trying his hand at the games when he was goaded into it.

It wasn’t that he was a bad man or anything, but he still hung out with that pompous ass Arthur, and by association, that made him a bit of an ass himself.

Leon nodded. “I am on my way down there now. Unfortunately, we are short a page today. Poor boy got kicked in the knee by one of the horses and is out for the day.”

Merlin didn’t like the sound of Leon’s tone one bit, nor the implications of his words. He didn’t particularly like horses and was grateful for his job working the game booths. The biggest threat was wayward blunt arrows or flying stuffed frogs soaring through the air. Those things couldn’t injure you like a horse could, nor did you have to constantly deal with Arthur’s pigheadedness.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sir Leon,” Merlin replied, making sure to use Leon’s title, especially around the tourists. To anyone else, it would seem like a regular, staged conversation. Just passing folk who were talking to one another. But Merlin couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach. “That’s hard, having to lose a teammate, especially before a big event like that. If I could help--”

Merlin was cut off as Leon let out a cry of what could only be gratitude and slapped a palm down on Merlin’s shoulder, nearly causing the boy’s knees to buckle in the process.

“And that’s when I went to the games booth to talk to you and Gaius! I know how well you work and take direction, and you get along well enough with the other men from what I can see! I really appreciate you offering to help us out in our time of need, Merlin!” Leon crowed and gave the boy a large smile and instantly Merlin realized what the knight truly wanted.

“Oh no,” Merlin shook his head and attempted to duck out from beneath Leon’s hand. “That’s not what I meant… I mean… I’m not skilled in that sort of thing… besides, Gaius needs me today!” Merlin stammered and stuttered as he attempted to back away and give any excuse possible, but Leon wasn’t having any of that and continued to close the distance between the two before looping a large, muscled arm behind Merlin’s neck in order to drag him close.

“Nonsense!” Leon cried, dragging Merlin towards the stables. “Gaius told me about how he gave you the afternoon off! We would truly appreciate it, I know Arthur would surely give you some sort of compensation for helping us out in our time of need!”

Gravel kicked and skidded beneath Merlin’s feet as he was pulled in the complete opposite direction of where he wanted to be. He would have much rather gone back to the game booths and faced Gaius’s quiet fury than help out at the jousting tournament. But the towering knight, albeit not nearly as muscular as one of his other companions, was making it very, very difficult to get away. Merlin’s mouth gaped and closed as he attempted to think up a better excuse not to have to do this, but he could think of nothing as the stables loomed above them and they passed through the wooden doors.

The afternoon light shot through the small cracks between the wooden boards of the stable, warming the straw beneath their feet. It was stuffy in the barn and the smell of horses and men assaulted Merlin’s nose as he and Leon passed over the threshold.

“Gentlemen!” Leon boomed as he gently pushed Merlin further into the structure, towards the walled off area closest to them and greeted a group of men dressed just as he was, all clad in silver and gold. The two men turned and roared a greeting to Leon in response, drifting away from the white gelding that Arthur was famous for riding and approached Leon and Merlin. Their names were flickering through Merlin’s mind, but the words were moving far too fast to settle. He, of course, had heard about both of them through the faire gossip. They were part of the most successful and popular jousting teams and everyone knew their names.

“Leon! Where have you been, sir?” A man with dark skin and darker eyes clapped a hand on Leon’s shoulder and grinned. “You were nearly ready to miss the tournament?” His dark eyes drifted down to Merlin. A wry smile lifted the edges of his lips. “And who have you brought us?”

“Now, now, Elyan, I would never abandon you!” Leon cried before pushing Merlin a bit closer to the men that had come to greet them. “This, my friends, is Merlin. You remember him from the gaming booths, don’t you? The boy that works for Gaius!”

“Oh yes, yes! The boy that scowls when we win at his games and take his prizes!” An overly muscular knight threw his head back and laughed, probably at the memories and suddenly Merlin remembered his name. Percival. Just in time as the mountain of a man dropped a meaty palm on Merlin’s shoulder, just as Leon had, and nearly buckled Merlin’s knees beneath the poor boy. No matter how strong Leon was, Percival was surely at least three times stronger and it took all of Merlin’s efforts not to drop to the hay covered dirt in agony. So he merely gave a humorless chuckle and nodded his head.

“You found a replacement for the page, then?” Elyan grinned and looked at Leon as if the man had brought him all of the solutions to the world’s problems. Leon nodded and the men stepped away. As Percival’s hand lifted from Merlin’s shoulder, it felt as if he had shifted off the weight of a two-ton boulder and his knees felt instantly relieved.

“Yes, yes. I told you I would, didn’t I? None of us could be able to carry the banner and do the other things the boy can. Some of us are not nearly as swift on our feet as we think we are, eh, Percival?” Leon grinned and both he and Elyan let out full belly chuckles at Percival’s expense. The man glowered for a mere moment before shrugging and shaking his head.

“Oh, right!” Merlin spoke up, the words leaving his lips before he could control them. “You were the one who nearly got run over by the horses the other day!” It had been a close call. The jousting knights, Arthur and another man, had leapt from their horses and had continued to do battle on their feet, wielding different weapons. It had always been an option the knights could pursue if the crowds weren’t as receptive to the jousting as the sometimes were. But when Percival had dashed out from his spot near the stables to give his liege a weapon to fight with, Arthur’s horse had nearly run the man over in the process.

It had certainly gotten the audience’s attention, and those that worked the fair had buzzed about it for hours after.

Percival’s neutral expression darkened at the mention of the incident and Merlin knew it would be in poor taste to further continue that conversation. He knew it had been a bad idea to say anything in the first place, but couldn’t help it. Luckily for him, Leon jumped between Percival and the much smaller Merlin with a bright grin.

“So you follow the tournament then! Good! We won’t have to teach you much, which is also grand since we don’t have much time.” The words were a punch to the skull and Merlin finally realized that they were true about their words and were not just joking about him participating in this whole debacle.

“I… I… oh no. I can’t. There’s now way…” Merlin shook his head, babbling once more like he had on the way to the stables. But the knights were not listening as they broke off to grab things on the walls that surrounded Arthur’s horse. The creature shifted on his hooves, excited at all the movement that was surrounding him.

“Nonsense, nonsense!” Leon cried, tossing Merlin a scarlet colored tunic. The boy scrambled to catch the piece of clothing before it hit the dirt. “Put this on!”

“And take this!” Just as Merlin pulled the tunic over his head, a pole was thrust into his hand and he stumbled at the weight of the large banner that was held atop the end closer to the ceiling.

A flurry of trumpets sounded and the crowds outside went wild at the chorus of instruments. After the horns blew their last notes, Merlin could hear the booming voice of Gwaine greeting not only the Normals, but their queen as well. It was the same speech generally every day and Merlin knew most of it by heart since he could hear Gwaine’s voice all the way from the gaming booths, but only when the crowd was silenced as he addressed Morgana. Merlin rarely heard the beginnings of his speech, or his introductions. As he spoke, the inside of the barn became chaos with activity from all of the teams. Men rushed from stable to stable, collecting their tunics with their representative nation, pole arms bearing flags like the one Merlin was struggling to keep upright, and attempting to get their knights ready.

Speaking of… leave it to Arthur to be fashionably late. Merlin was about to turn to one of the knights in scarlet to ask where their champion was when the man showed up, striding into the stable just in time.

“Well, well! Let’s get a move on, shall we? Don’t want to be late!” Arthur gleamed in his shining armor as he headed straight for his horse and hoisted himself up into the saddle with help from Leon. It was only when he was situated and settled that he glanced down when Leon handed him his helmet and caught sight of the new member of his team. A wry smirk found Arthur’s lips and he flipped a bit of blond hair out of his eyes as he looked Merlin up and down. “New page, I see? Good job, Sir Leon. Let’s hope he holds up to snuff.”

Merlin suddenly wanted to let the end of the pole drop on Arthur’s head. But he refrained and mere gave the man a pained look. Knights and their entourages began filing out of the darkened stables and Arthur’s group scrambled to their places. Leon gently shoved at Merlin’s shoulder, forcing him to the front of the group and even with the shoulders of Arthur’s horse as they began padding out of the stable and into the afternoon sun.

The roar of the crowds was nearly deafening as they entered the arena, moving through the large gate that decorated the entrance. Merlin could hear the crowd chanting Arthur’s name and the knight brightened considerably at the sound, waving and gloating his popularity to all. His helmet was tucked beneath his arm and he blew kisses to some of the more attractive female members of the crowd, receiving shrieks of adoration in return.

They looped around the arena and passed in front of the royal pavilion, finally lining up in front of the throne, Morgana and her attendants. Merlin struggled with the pole, having to lean it up against his shoulder to keep it from falling backwards and slamming into the skull of Elyan who had the unfortunate position of being behind him. When he finally got the pole under control, he looked up and saw a strange expression on Queen Morgana’s face. He couldn’t quite pin it down, whether it was fear, surprise or a mixture of the two. He risked a look behind him and was flustered that Elyan didn’t seem to be blinking an eye, nor making any sort of face or expression that could explain Morgana’s reaction.

Before he could decide if it was him or just Queen Morgana going crazy, however, the horns had sounded again, Morgana had regained her composure, and they were being ushered away from the pavilion and out of the arena in preparation of the jousting to begin.

The warm shade of the barn roof was a welcoming feeling, despite the lack of air circulation as Merlin stumbled inside, nearly knocking the high end of the pole into the frame of the large doors. All six groups went back to their individual stables, but two of the knights and their assistants stayed saddled and horsed, immediately heading back into the field once everyone else had passed. Gwaine’s voice filtered back into the barn as he introduced each of the knights and the crowd cheered in response, immediately choosing sides.

“Well, that was fun, but I should really get going. Gaius is surely needing my help by now!” Merlin stuttered and gave a nervous smile before attempting to pass off the flag to Elyan, who merely smirked and shook his head. Merlin’s eyes darted from him to Percy, but it was Leon who let out a roar of laughter when Merlin finally looked at him, not bothering with Arthur in the slightest. The big-headed knight had jumped off of his horse and had moved to an empty stable to practice his swordplay against the shadows.

“Dear Merlin! I already told you that Gaius gave me his permission to allow you to stay for the entire tournament! I think he and that gorgeous Guinevere can hold down those booths for the afternoon.” Leon’s smirk was unusually impish for a man who was normally quite stoic. He was having far too much fun at Merlin’s predicament.

The boy’s mouth opened and closed again and he felt his hands go sweaty around the pole he was still holding. It was only when the whole thing started slipping that Lancelot reached over and plucked it from his hands, resting it against a far wall.

“Have no fear, Merlin. It is easy,” Elyan attempted to reassure him, but there was a smile on his face that matched Leon’s and Merlin didn’t like it. The crowds applauded outside and two more knights galloped out of their stables as the previous two entered, one still atop his horse, the other limping inside, being held up by his pages. “Arthur will gallop down the arena once or twice, eventually knocking his opponent off of his horse, as always,” He glanced at Arthur, who was seeming to pay no attention to their conversation. “And when he needs a new lance, you bring it to him.”

“Then, once he leaps off of his horse to attack his opponent,” Percival started, snatching up one of the large swords from its place near their feet. “You must hand him his sword and shield. “

“Why can’t you do this part?” Merlin questioned, suspicious of why he was even doing it in the first place. He knew that Gaius was punishing him, that much was blatantly obvious. Even if the man hadn’t planned this, things had worked in his favor and Merlin hated him for it. But why couldn’t Elyan or Percy hand Arthur his sword and shield when it came time for the scripted scuffle that occurred at all of the jousting matches? Arthur was the fan favorite and always defended Queen Morgana’s honor when one of the knights lost his temper about his defeat and decided he wanted to take her hostage. He never got close enough to touch her, but no matter because the audience believed it and Arthur was able to be champion every single day.

It grew old.

But he wasn’t sure why none of the others couldn’t play the scripted part of handing Arthur his equipment to slay the foe and defend Queen Morgana.

“Well…” The three knights exchanged looks, as if they had no real reason and Merlin was about to throw his tunic in Leon’s face when the cheering crowd caught his attention.

“Time to work, Merlin!” Leon cried as Arthur strode to his horse and pulled himself onto it, shifting to get himself in a comfortable position. Percival clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, nearly buckling his knees once more before pushing the sword and a shield into Merlin’s hands. Arthur directed his steed towards the opening of the barn, matching pace with his opponent. Percival’s hand on Merlin’s shoulder wasn’t just friendly, but it was a steering gesture, making sure Merlin didn’t bolt from his supposed responsibilities.

He still didn’t understand why he had to do this.

And he was going to kill Gaius when he was done.

The crowds hadn’t even come close to reaching the pinnacle of their madness until Arthur and his golden hair came trotting out of the barn, hand waving and bright smile greeting them all as if they were personal friends. Women swooned and men wanted to be him. Merlin couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he stumbled out into the sun, carrying Arthur’s shield and sword. The horses separated, Arthur’s opponent took off to get ready at the opposite end of the arena, horse snorting and sweating in the heat.

Merlin shuffled off to the side as Elyan handed Arthur his gleaming helmet. The piece of armor slid easily over Arthur’s head and he dropped the visor with a clank. Percy and Leon hoisted a lance up to Arthur, who cradled the handle in the crook of his arm. His horse snorted and paced in short strides, channeling the energy of his rider.

“And the moment you all have been waiting for!” Gwaine crowed as the competitors prepared themselves and their horses. He swung around a large pole near the pavilion where Queen Morgana and her company were seated, out of the way of the whole debacle, all the while being able to see everything and comment on it with his projected voice. “The knight on the north end, Sir Christian!”

The crowds cheered, but it was more polite than anything else as Gwaine swept an arm towards the knight, who raised his lance and trotted his horse in a circle, parading and attempting to gain a bit of support through show. Gwaine then spun around the pole and pointed at the other end of the arena with his other hand. As Merlin glanced up at his friend, they made eye contact and Gwaine’s eyebrow ticked up in a moment of silent question, as if attempting to ask Merlin why in the hell he was standing there with a shield and sword. But the moment didn’t last long as the crowed quieted and Gwaine had to move on.

“And finally, the man I know you all came to see in the first place!” He shouted, dragging out the introduction for as long as possible, despite everyone knowing who was under the helmet that he was pointing to. “In the south end, Sir Arthur!”

The arena exploded in cheers and shouts, louder than it had before that moment, even when Arthur had shown his face in their initial introductions. Merlin was a little bit impressed at how much of a celebrity Arthur was in this tourist trap, and instantly felt sickened at what he felt. He shouldn’t be impressed, especially since the jousting tournament didn’t bring in any money for the faire and everything Arthur did was scripted, even if he did take his job way too seriously.

It was sickening how popular he was, for merely beating another man with a large stick.

“Gentleman, prepare for battle!” Gwaine’s words just seemed to get the crowds and the competitors even more riled up as the two men steadied their horses and set them in their starting positions.

A young boy trotted out to the middle of the arena, holding a flag that was nearly as large as he was. Merlin could see the poor kid take a deep breath, as if the flag was too heavy and he had been doing this all day, which he actually had been.

“Three!” Gwaine began counting down as the boy steadied himself. “Two!” Merlin watched as the boy’s muscles tensed and tightened. “One! GO!” The page pulled the flag up and over his head, signaling the riders to begin their charge. Gravel skittered and sank beneath the boy’s feet as he turned and bolted away from the center posts, hoping to be fast enough to make it to the sidelines before the monstrous horses ran over him.

Hooves thundered through the gravel as the horses sprinted towards one another, their riders urging them faster and faster. Merlin watched as Arthur lowered his lance as he approached his rival. The other rider mirrored his actions and the lances passed through what looked like the same air, the tips slamming into the chest pieces of the opposite riders. Arthur’s armor took the glancing blow of his enemy’s lance, but Sir Christian was not so lucky. Wood splintered and shattered, flying from Arthur’s lance, forcing his opponent to rocket back and nearly get thrown from his saddle. But the man stayed seated atop his horse, as both men turned and rocketed back to their starting position to get new lances.

“Lance!” The white gelding approached the group of knights and Merlin. Arthur’s growl was muffled as it came through his helmet. He threw his ruined lance to the side, almost nailing Merlin in the head with the large wooden weapon. Merlin let out a yelp and scrambled to the side, nearly dropping the shield and sword that he was responsible for. He barely had time to recover before Percy was handing Arthur another lance and the knight was readying himself for another attack.

Gwaine counted down once more, surely to the page’s exhaustion as the boy sprinted to the center and away again with his flag, and the knights galloped toward the middle of the arena again. The horses salivated and sweated as they were run their hardest. Arthur rammed his lowered lance into the sweet spot on his opponent’s chest and Merlin winced as the man was thrown from his horse with what seemed like minimal effort from Arthur.

The crowd exploded in celebration.

Arthur threw his helmet off, beaming with glee and pride as he trotted his horse in a turn and came back to face the defeated opponent as well as his adoring fans. But that look turned to surprise when the knight scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards his page, ripping a sword from the boy’s hands and brandishing it at Arthur in an act of challenge.

“Get off that horse and fight me like a man, Sir Arthur!” Sir Christian cried, ripping his helmet off. The surrounding parties, both the royal escorts and all that were helping the jousts were suddenly stunned at the odd step in events. Merlin frowned, shifting Arthur’s sword and shield in his arms. This wasn’t how the joust was supposed to go, at least from what he could remember. Every time he watched the event or heard about it from the Normals later, it included whoever Arthur was jousting being thrown from his horse and losing, sure, but Arthur was then presented to Queen Morgana first before the renegade knight challenged him to a fight by sword.

Sir Christian seemed to be skipping that act.

The challenging knight’s sword glinted in the sun, nearly blinding those in the now silent crowd. No one knew how to proceed.  Even Arthur, who could improvise even the most drastic of changes in the combat choreography, seemed stunned. He turned to look at Leon, who merely shrugged.

“Sir Arthur! Are you a coward?” Christian taunted, as he slowly crossed toward Morgana’s pavilion. “How about some incentive? Should I draw some royal blood to get you off of that horse?” His voice rose to a shout as he moved to leap up onto the platform where the royal party was sitting.

Merlin immediately looked at Morgana, who seemed shocked to even be addressed before her scripted moment. Her guards were moving to block the way to her elaborate and ornate throne when Arthur spoke, his voice ringing out over the arena. Merlin was sure even Gaius and Gwen could hear him, it was so quiet in the jousting space.

“Enough, Sir Christian! I thought you a humble knight, but I was wrong!” He swung a leg over the back end of his horse and dropped to the ground, sinking in the gravel and dirt. But he stood tall, sunlight sparking off of his armor as he moved to address the audience as well as his challenger. “I have no fear of you, nor am I a coward. Only a man who threatens a queen is a true coward. Face me like a man!”

Arthur stalked towards Merlin, not looking at his face, but his weaponry as he held out his hands. Merlin fumbled with the large pieces, attempting to first hand Arthur his sword and then his shield. The shield was nearly dropped, but Arthur caught it and slung it over his forearm, barely giving Merlin a second look as he turned on his heel and headed towards Christian, not spending the extra energy to hurry towards his opponent.

Merlin’s arms felt infinitely lighter as the weight of the weapons were lifted from him. He rubbed the muscles in his upper arms as he watched Christian leap down from his perch and began striding towards Arthur, rushing to meet him not far from Merlin and the rest of Arthur’s support party. A breeze swept through the arena, forcing flags to snap and crack on their poles, and lifted hair off of sweaty foreheads.

He turned to Leon, not interested in the combat despite it being slightly off script. Maybe Christian was bored of losing for the umpteenth time and wanted to shake things up. Merlin had no idea and didn’t care. He knew Arthur was going to win, and decided he didn’t need to watch that again. Swords clanked as they connected and Merlin could faintly hear the grunting of the fighters as they moved about the arena.

“Leon, do you need me anymore?” There was slight desperation in his voice, and Merlin attempted to hide it. But the wry smirk on Leon’s face told him that he hadn’t succeeded.

“What, Merlin, you don’t want to watch our fearless lea-look out!”

It was an odd transition and Merlin opened his mouth to question it when he was shoved forward towards Arthur’s horse. A cry slipped up his throat and through his lips as he realized that Arthur himself had been on the defense from a swinging blow by Christian and had gotten far too close to his attendants. The gravel and dirt slid beneath Merlin’s feet as he attempted to get his bearings. His yell, as well as the ringing of steel weapons crashing against one another sang in his ears as he stumbled forward, hands outstretched and finally colliding with the Arthur’s horse.

The warm body beneath his fingers writhed in panic as it shifted away from him. Fear flashed in the horse’s dark eyes as it tried to get away from Merlin, and the only way it could do that was by rearing up on its hind legs, front legs kicking desperately in the air.

“Ah!” It seemed that was the only noise Merlin could make as he was cloaked in the shadow thrown by the horse that loomed over him. He rebounded off of the beast, thrown backward and to the side. He couldn’t see Percy scrambling to calm the horse, or the two knights stopping their fight to help. Instead, all he saw was sweating animal, sky and then darkness as he tripped and fell backwards, his skull hitting the edge of the metal barrier fence with a crack.

Flashes of light and images sparked and stuttered through Merlin’s brain. He couldn’t control the speed at which they moved, nor could he return to images that he wanted to look more closely at. It was like being in that shaky dream state between sleeping and waking where the dreamer knew they were dreaming, yet couldn’t control anything going on.

Arthur’s crew armed with real swords, striding through a crowd in flowing cloaks of red.

Arthur sitting at a large table, his knights in the seats around him. It looked as if they were planning something, with maps spread across the surface of the table, maps of an unusually familiar place that Merlin couldn’t quite identify.

Images of him and Gaius bent over a scarred wooden table, hands flying over glass vials, bowls and what looked like the entire contents of the apothecary tent’s inventory. His mind rocked as the image switched from seeing himself next to Gaius, to looking directly into Gaius’s eyes and seeing the work beneath his pale hands.

Those same pale hands reaching out, gesturing to a large shape in the darkness. The shape shifting and moving until Merlin was looking directly into the amber eyes of a great dragon.

A scowling, pale woman in a green dress. Her dark hair was curled and snarled around her head as she swept around a small, stone room. She was chanting something before she finally turned and looked at Merlin, green eyes sparking with fear, anger, and determination. It was a moment before Merlin recognized Morgana. Her eyes flashed gold and all he saw was white.

Gwen in a regal dress, more elaborate than anything she wore at the faire, and a crown on her head. Turning, she holds out a hand and grasps the fingers of… Arthur, who looks like a king in his royal garb and the elaborate crown on his head. She smiles at him and he returns the expression, and for some reason, Merlin can’t help but feel happy at the sight. They both turn to face Merlin and he’s in a crowd of people, all gathered in a large hall.

And for the first time, Merlin hears sounds. The crowd is chanting.

“Long live Queen Guinevere!”

“Long live King Arthur!”

“Long live Camelot!”

Guinevere was reaching her hand out once more, only this time it was towards Merlin. He could hear his name being called out, over and over.

“Merlin!”

“Merlin!”

“MERLIN!”