Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Five
Merlin’s eyes snapped open, blurry but focusing quickly on the floating heads above him. His vision cleared and finally he could see a familiar face, although a faint image was spread over her face, as if he was still remembering her in that crown she had been wearing. A groan slipped up through his throat and out of his dry lips.
“Where… am… I?” The words were hard on his throat.
“Oh, Merlin. You’re in the medical tent.” Gwen’s face was etched with concern as she leaned over him, her cool fingers wrapped around his own. Merlin blinked at her, not sure why he should be in the medical tent. But as he broke the gaze between him and Gwen, his eyes looked past her shoulder and saw that he was, in fact, laying on a cot in a stuffy tent. “We were so worried about you after you fell!”
We?
And that’s when Merlin saw them. The group of knights that had forced him into the arena in the first place. It was obvious, at first look, that they were all at least concerned about him and Leon was the first to step forward.
“Merlin… I’m sorry. It should have been safe.” The other knights shifted on their feet and Merlin couldn’t help but wave them off with his free hand.
“It’s alright. Honestly. I’m fine.” And with that, he attempted to sit up, but Gwen’s free hand pushed gently on his chest, forcing him back down on the cot.
“Oh no. They gave you the all clear, but I’m not buying it. Gaius said you could have the afternoon off to recover.” The determined look in her eyes made Merlin’s stomach twist, as if he was suddenly remembering something important that he had forgotten, but couldn’t quite get a hold on what it was.
“Well then, why should I spend my free afternoon in here?” He tried to give her a lopsided smile, but the concern was still in her face. Merlin sighed and attempted to sit up again, pushing against Gwen’s hand as she tried to keep him horizontal. He shook his head and finally sat up. The room tilted for a moment, but Merlin squeezed his eyes shut to force the feeling to go away.
As soon as he did, there was another flash of he and Arthur trotting down a large staircase that led to a stone courtyard where a pair of horses were waiting for both of them.
Merlin opened his eyes and the sight burned like an after image on his vision. He shook his head and the ghosts of Arthur and him vanished.
“Honestly, Gwen. I’m fine. I promise.” Merlin smiled at her and after a moment, Gwen sighed. She opened her mouth to protest.
“Merlin! Mate! Glad you’re awake!” The boisterous voice of Gwaine shot through the tent, like a spark in a pile of dry straw. Leon and the other knights turned as Gwaine bounded into the tent, all smiles and large gestures as he moved through the small crowd to Merlin’s cot. “We were worried about you, my good sir. Come on, Gwen. Let the poor boy go. I’m buying him a drink!”
Merlin looked at Gwen, who seemed to realize that she couldn’t win against the charismatic Gwaine. The man in question fluttered his eyelashes at Gwen and she shook her head in defeat.
“Fine. Take care of him, Gwaine. If I find out he’s back here, it’ll be you I’m going to be looking for.” She waved a finger in his face before rising, brushing dirt from her skirts. “Be careful. Any sign of wooziness, come back here, do you hear me, Merlin? If you need me, I’ll be with Gaius.” Her demands were oddly familiar, and that stomach-turning sensation happened again, forcing Merlin to wonder if he shouldn’t stay on the cot.
But before he could second-guess himself too much, Gwaine reached down and grabbed Merlin’s arm, yanking him up and out of the cot.
“That’s a good man! Shake it off.” Gwaine gave Gwen a dashing smirk before yanking Merlin out of the tent and back into the crowds of the faire. Merlin waved a good bye to those that had congregated in the tent as he allowed Gwaine to lead the way to their usual haunt.
The crowds were thinning as the day went on, although many Normals were starting to congregate around the food booths and bars that were spattered around the faire. Every so often, a tourist would stop and point, maybe whisper to their family and nod in Merlin’s direction. He frowned at the actions and tried to keep up with Gwaine’s pace. Gwaine, on the other hand, had noticed the reactions and couldn’t help grinning at Merlin.
“You’re famous, Merlin!” He cried out as he steered his friend up a rocky path to a small bar that was quickly filling with tourists. It was as a quaint stall and Merlin always enjoyed having a drink with Gwaine here. They tolerated Gwaine’s antics and allowed the boys to take up a table in their small courtyard, or a stool at the bar, when they pleased.
“For what? Getting in the way of Arthur and hitting my head on a rock? What if I don’t want to be famous?” Merlin scowled as he approached the bar. Gwaine shrugged and flashed two fingers at the barmaid, winking as he did so.
It was always comfortable, drinking with Gwaine. But as they received their flasks of ale, Merlin couldn’t help squashing that turn in his stomach once more. It felt far too familiar now, as if they had done it before, somewhere else other than the faire. But it couldn’t possibly be true. So he took his drink from Gwaine, instead.
Crowds were starting to move to and from the outdoor bars, exchanging money for food and drinks at a rapid pace. Even their own hidden spot was busy and by the time they got their drinks, the tables were all taken and only the bar remained.
“I probably shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” Merlin said, raising his mug at a smirking Gwaine.
The man shrugged. “You had a hard day, Merlin. I suggest you celebrate surviving it instead of worrying about the consequences that will never come!” And with that, Gwaine took his own advice and downed a portion of the liquid in his cup.
Merlin shrugged and glanced down at the amber colored drink he was holding. His own reflection, wavy as it was with the movement of his arm, stared back at him, but only for a moment as he raised the mug to his face.
And promptly spilled a good portion of the drink down his front as a Normal passed by through the crowd of people and bumped his arm, sloshing the ale in the mug and onto Merlin.
“Augh!” Merlin cried as the cold ale seeped through his shirt and already started to cling to his skin.
The tourist passed without a second look behind him, and Merlin glowered at his back. Gwaine laughed, and the sound only seemed to fuel Merlin’s anger at the incident. His lip curled as he focused all of the day’s feelings into hating this man. The frustration with Gaius and the guards, the irritation at having to be a part of the jousting, and now the latent anger at being injured while being forced to work in a part of the faire he hadn’t wanted to be in the first place. Add the spilled ale, and that small ball of emotions grew in his chest. He wanted to scream at the man who was merely walking away instead of stopping to apologize.
Suddenly, there was a hot flash behind Merlin’s eyes. It felt as if the tangle of emotions had left his chest and Merlin gasped slightly as he slammed his eyes shut. Was this a symptom of hitting his head? Surely not. But as he opened his eyes, he expected a concerned look from Gwaine. Instead, his friend was turned away, looking at the tourist that was sprawled on his back, lying on the dirt floor of the outdoor bar.
“Did you see that bloke?!” Gwaine shouted. “He did this odd dance move and then fell! It was…” He shook his head, turning back to Merlin. But the amazed look on his face fell away when he caught sight of his friend. “You alright, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked at Gwaine, but he couldn’t help the sick feeling in his stomach that was surely translated on his face. He shook his head for a moment, attempting to clear the fuzz that was going on in his brain.
“Yeah. Fine. Just…” He gestured at the spill down his front.
“But can you believe that?! You saw it, right?” Gwaine questioned, turning back to look at the man who was attempting to peel himself off of the gravel.
Merlin nodded, although he knew Gwaine didn’t really need an answer as his friend continued to babble on about how high in the air the man’s feet had gotten when he had tripped and fallen and how great it would have been if he had been carrying a drink in his hand and how he hoped someone had gotten that on their phone and blah blah blah. Merlin, however, was searching the bar top for napkins and finding none near him.
“Gwaine, can you hand me…” But his friend was still blathering on and Merlin sighed, feeling uncomfortable in the ale soaked tunic he was now wearing. He turned on his seat and found a napkin holder a few seats down from him. The crowd of people settled at the bar hindered access to the container, and Merlin strained to reach it, but with no avail, he couldn’t even tip the thing over with his fingertips. All he wanted was the bloody napkins!
And then he felt that shock of heat behind his eyes once more, and the napkin holder slid towards him and settled into his fingers as if the whole thing had a mind of its own.
Merlin’s heart thrashed in his chest. That time… he knew something was off. Napkin holders didn’t just jump into your hand like that. Even he knew that much. He turned and was suddenly face to face with Gwaine.
“What was that, Merlin?” The question could have easily been requesting Merlin to repeat his need for napkins… but he didn’t think so as Gwaine was staring particularly hard at him, not really blinking.
“I… I have to go. Gaius probably needs me at the game booth.” Merlin slipped off of his stool and slapped Gwaine on the shoulder. “See you later.” Before Gwaine could protest, Merlin slipped through the crowds, not sure if he was going to be heading in the direction of the game booths or not, but he knew he needed to get out of there.
He was going crazy. The dreams while he had been passed out had been merely dreams, right? But they felt… comfortable. Like home. Like what he was currently doing was a dream. But Merlin couldn’t sort it all out as he moved through the throngs of people. And what had been with the napkin holder and that tourist? He hadn’t done those things, forcing the man to trip or getting the holder to slide right into his hand.
Right?
It all seemed far too surreal to be true. But for some reason, the idea of making those things happen didn’t make him uncomfortable. Instead, it felt like that was the way things were supposed to be, just as Gwen was supposed to be wearing a crown and the guys who helped Arthur were actually knights and not just actors.
And the image that still floated in his head, of Gwen and Arthur standing next to one another just felt real. Merlin couldn’t shake the feeling, despite logically knowing that Arthur probably had no idea who Gwen even was, let alone would hold her hand or treat her like a queen. As for Gwen, Merlin knew that she wouldn’t be anyone’s queen, let alone Arthur’s.
At least, he assumed so.
But it was like a fine film was spread over his eyes, and what he knew about his friends seemed wrong, somehow. That everything he had grown to like and admire was not exactly what they were like. Sure, personality wise they were the same, but the circumstances seemed off.
The tourists were beginning to filter out of the faire towards the exit gates. Merlin turned to watch them leave, since he wasn’t sure where he was going anyway. But something was off. At first, he assumed it was a trick of the light… it had to be. He blinked and stepped a little closer to the gates, as if that would help.
And then it happened again.
As the visitors passed through the gates to get to their cars, they vanished suddenly. No one else seemed to be bothered by this, and Merlin watched it happen over and over again. His heart thumped in his chest.
When was the last time I had ever gone through those gates? He questioned, suddenly frightened at the thought. It was an odd feeling… but Merlin was almost certain he had never stepped through those gates. Surely he would remember it… but when the sun went down, it was almost as if night never existed and the new day just began.
He spun on his heel, watching the employees of the faire as they began packing up their goods and shutting down shop. They all seemed to be in a trance of sorts, not really talking to one another but attempting to get everything packed up before the night fell.
As the faire grounds emptied, it grew quieter and quieter and Merlin wasn’t sure how long he stood there, merely watching everyone work. But as the last tourists disappeared through the archways, the participants of the faire finished cleaning and packing up and were slowly leaving their booths and other attractions. Each of them had a slightly glazed look over their face as they all headed away from their booths. Merlin knew he should follow, but he couldn’t get his feet to move in that direction. Instead, his body turned and headed towards the gates that were still open but unmanned.
He was going to get out of here. To prove to himself that he could leave if he wanted to, and always had been able to. He was being an idiot. The knock on the head obviously had done more damage than he had thought.
But for some reason, Merlin couldn’t stop himself as he began jogging and soon sprinting towards the gates.
He would get through.
No one seemed to notice or care as he hurtled through the gates. And for a split second, Merlin both knew he would succeed as well as probably fail. The part of him that had worked daily in Gaius’s gaming booths knew he was able to leave. But the part of his brain that had seen Gwaine dressed as one of Arthur’s knights and witnessed Gwen dressed as a queen knew it wouldn’t happen.
Merlin could see through the gates up until he collided with a solid wall, sending a shockwave through his body. A flash of blue light exploded in his face, rejecting him and throwing him in the direction he had come from. Merlin landed on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. And quite like when he had hit his head earlier in the day, he saw visions. But these were so much more real than before.
He and Arthur scrabbling through the forest, swords swinging as they battled amongst the other knights and bandits that had attempted to attack their traveling party. He could feel the breath hard in his chest as they sprinted through underbrush and slid on rocks. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
Then he was with Lancelot, talking as they walked down the halls of a castle that seemed so familiar, like a home. Only snippets of their conversation were clear to Merlin, but he felt anxious despite Lancelot’s reassuring tone. Words popped out of the dreamy silence. Magic. Yours. Savior. All from Lancelot’s mouth and directed at Merlin.
Another flash and he was facing a dark haired woman. Morgana. She looked so much wilder than he knew his queen to look, different from what he remembered her to be. But how could he remember her as anything but an actress pretending to be a queen? She held a hand up and her eyes flashed gold. Rocks crumbled around them, falling down. And suddenly Merlin saw himself from the outside. He watched as his own eyes sparked gold like Morgana’s had and Merlin knew what was happening.
Magic.
Merlin’s eyes flicked open and he stared at the dark sky. It was crazy. He couldn’t possibly be thinking that all that he had just seen was true. But there was some sort of barrier keeping him in the faire grounds, so who was to say what was and what wasn’t real?
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the slight tilt in his balance as he moved away from the gates. Where was he going to go? Who would believe him? The dirt roads were empty, as everyone had gone, well, wherever they went for the night since they couldn’t leave either, Merlin assumed. Everything was dark, the booths shut tight and the lanterns extinguished.
Except for one tent.
Morgana's.
“Where… am… I?” The words were hard on his throat.
“Oh, Merlin. You’re in the medical tent.” Gwen’s face was etched with concern as she leaned over him, her cool fingers wrapped around his own. Merlin blinked at her, not sure why he should be in the medical tent. But as he broke the gaze between him and Gwen, his eyes looked past her shoulder and saw that he was, in fact, laying on a cot in a stuffy tent. “We were so worried about you after you fell!”
We?
And that’s when Merlin saw them. The group of knights that had forced him into the arena in the first place. It was obvious, at first look, that they were all at least concerned about him and Leon was the first to step forward.
“Merlin… I’m sorry. It should have been safe.” The other knights shifted on their feet and Merlin couldn’t help but wave them off with his free hand.
“It’s alright. Honestly. I’m fine.” And with that, he attempted to sit up, but Gwen’s free hand pushed gently on his chest, forcing him back down on the cot.
“Oh no. They gave you the all clear, but I’m not buying it. Gaius said you could have the afternoon off to recover.” The determined look in her eyes made Merlin’s stomach twist, as if he was suddenly remembering something important that he had forgotten, but couldn’t quite get a hold on what it was.
“Well then, why should I spend my free afternoon in here?” He tried to give her a lopsided smile, but the concern was still in her face. Merlin sighed and attempted to sit up again, pushing against Gwen’s hand as she tried to keep him horizontal. He shook his head and finally sat up. The room tilted for a moment, but Merlin squeezed his eyes shut to force the feeling to go away.
As soon as he did, there was another flash of he and Arthur trotting down a large staircase that led to a stone courtyard where a pair of horses were waiting for both of them.
Merlin opened his eyes and the sight burned like an after image on his vision. He shook his head and the ghosts of Arthur and him vanished.
“Honestly, Gwen. I’m fine. I promise.” Merlin smiled at her and after a moment, Gwen sighed. She opened her mouth to protest.
“Merlin! Mate! Glad you’re awake!” The boisterous voice of Gwaine shot through the tent, like a spark in a pile of dry straw. Leon and the other knights turned as Gwaine bounded into the tent, all smiles and large gestures as he moved through the small crowd to Merlin’s cot. “We were worried about you, my good sir. Come on, Gwen. Let the poor boy go. I’m buying him a drink!”
Merlin looked at Gwen, who seemed to realize that she couldn’t win against the charismatic Gwaine. The man in question fluttered his eyelashes at Gwen and she shook her head in defeat.
“Fine. Take care of him, Gwaine. If I find out he’s back here, it’ll be you I’m going to be looking for.” She waved a finger in his face before rising, brushing dirt from her skirts. “Be careful. Any sign of wooziness, come back here, do you hear me, Merlin? If you need me, I’ll be with Gaius.” Her demands were oddly familiar, and that stomach-turning sensation happened again, forcing Merlin to wonder if he shouldn’t stay on the cot.
But before he could second-guess himself too much, Gwaine reached down and grabbed Merlin’s arm, yanking him up and out of the cot.
“That’s a good man! Shake it off.” Gwaine gave Gwen a dashing smirk before yanking Merlin out of the tent and back into the crowds of the faire. Merlin waved a good bye to those that had congregated in the tent as he allowed Gwaine to lead the way to their usual haunt.
The crowds were thinning as the day went on, although many Normals were starting to congregate around the food booths and bars that were spattered around the faire. Every so often, a tourist would stop and point, maybe whisper to their family and nod in Merlin’s direction. He frowned at the actions and tried to keep up with Gwaine’s pace. Gwaine, on the other hand, had noticed the reactions and couldn’t help grinning at Merlin.
“You’re famous, Merlin!” He cried out as he steered his friend up a rocky path to a small bar that was quickly filling with tourists. It was as a quaint stall and Merlin always enjoyed having a drink with Gwaine here. They tolerated Gwaine’s antics and allowed the boys to take up a table in their small courtyard, or a stool at the bar, when they pleased.
“For what? Getting in the way of Arthur and hitting my head on a rock? What if I don’t want to be famous?” Merlin scowled as he approached the bar. Gwaine shrugged and flashed two fingers at the barmaid, winking as he did so.
It was always comfortable, drinking with Gwaine. But as they received their flasks of ale, Merlin couldn’t help squashing that turn in his stomach once more. It felt far too familiar now, as if they had done it before, somewhere else other than the faire. But it couldn’t possibly be true. So he took his drink from Gwaine, instead.
Crowds were starting to move to and from the outdoor bars, exchanging money for food and drinks at a rapid pace. Even their own hidden spot was busy and by the time they got their drinks, the tables were all taken and only the bar remained.
“I probably shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” Merlin said, raising his mug at a smirking Gwaine.
The man shrugged. “You had a hard day, Merlin. I suggest you celebrate surviving it instead of worrying about the consequences that will never come!” And with that, Gwaine took his own advice and downed a portion of the liquid in his cup.
Merlin shrugged and glanced down at the amber colored drink he was holding. His own reflection, wavy as it was with the movement of his arm, stared back at him, but only for a moment as he raised the mug to his face.
And promptly spilled a good portion of the drink down his front as a Normal passed by through the crowd of people and bumped his arm, sloshing the ale in the mug and onto Merlin.
“Augh!” Merlin cried as the cold ale seeped through his shirt and already started to cling to his skin.
The tourist passed without a second look behind him, and Merlin glowered at his back. Gwaine laughed, and the sound only seemed to fuel Merlin’s anger at the incident. His lip curled as he focused all of the day’s feelings into hating this man. The frustration with Gaius and the guards, the irritation at having to be a part of the jousting, and now the latent anger at being injured while being forced to work in a part of the faire he hadn’t wanted to be in the first place. Add the spilled ale, and that small ball of emotions grew in his chest. He wanted to scream at the man who was merely walking away instead of stopping to apologize.
Suddenly, there was a hot flash behind Merlin’s eyes. It felt as if the tangle of emotions had left his chest and Merlin gasped slightly as he slammed his eyes shut. Was this a symptom of hitting his head? Surely not. But as he opened his eyes, he expected a concerned look from Gwaine. Instead, his friend was turned away, looking at the tourist that was sprawled on his back, lying on the dirt floor of the outdoor bar.
“Did you see that bloke?!” Gwaine shouted. “He did this odd dance move and then fell! It was…” He shook his head, turning back to Merlin. But the amazed look on his face fell away when he caught sight of his friend. “You alright, Merlin?”
Merlin blinked at Gwaine, but he couldn’t help the sick feeling in his stomach that was surely translated on his face. He shook his head for a moment, attempting to clear the fuzz that was going on in his brain.
“Yeah. Fine. Just…” He gestured at the spill down his front.
“But can you believe that?! You saw it, right?” Gwaine questioned, turning back to look at the man who was attempting to peel himself off of the gravel.
Merlin nodded, although he knew Gwaine didn’t really need an answer as his friend continued to babble on about how high in the air the man’s feet had gotten when he had tripped and fallen and how great it would have been if he had been carrying a drink in his hand and how he hoped someone had gotten that on their phone and blah blah blah. Merlin, however, was searching the bar top for napkins and finding none near him.
“Gwaine, can you hand me…” But his friend was still blathering on and Merlin sighed, feeling uncomfortable in the ale soaked tunic he was now wearing. He turned on his seat and found a napkin holder a few seats down from him. The crowd of people settled at the bar hindered access to the container, and Merlin strained to reach it, but with no avail, he couldn’t even tip the thing over with his fingertips. All he wanted was the bloody napkins!
And then he felt that shock of heat behind his eyes once more, and the napkin holder slid towards him and settled into his fingers as if the whole thing had a mind of its own.
Merlin’s heart thrashed in his chest. That time… he knew something was off. Napkin holders didn’t just jump into your hand like that. Even he knew that much. He turned and was suddenly face to face with Gwaine.
“What was that, Merlin?” The question could have easily been requesting Merlin to repeat his need for napkins… but he didn’t think so as Gwaine was staring particularly hard at him, not really blinking.
“I… I have to go. Gaius probably needs me at the game booth.” Merlin slipped off of his stool and slapped Gwaine on the shoulder. “See you later.” Before Gwaine could protest, Merlin slipped through the crowds, not sure if he was going to be heading in the direction of the game booths or not, but he knew he needed to get out of there.
He was going crazy. The dreams while he had been passed out had been merely dreams, right? But they felt… comfortable. Like home. Like what he was currently doing was a dream. But Merlin couldn’t sort it all out as he moved through the throngs of people. And what had been with the napkin holder and that tourist? He hadn’t done those things, forcing the man to trip or getting the holder to slide right into his hand.
Right?
It all seemed far too surreal to be true. But for some reason, the idea of making those things happen didn’t make him uncomfortable. Instead, it felt like that was the way things were supposed to be, just as Gwen was supposed to be wearing a crown and the guys who helped Arthur were actually knights and not just actors.
And the image that still floated in his head, of Gwen and Arthur standing next to one another just felt real. Merlin couldn’t shake the feeling, despite logically knowing that Arthur probably had no idea who Gwen even was, let alone would hold her hand or treat her like a queen. As for Gwen, Merlin knew that she wouldn’t be anyone’s queen, let alone Arthur’s.
At least, he assumed so.
But it was like a fine film was spread over his eyes, and what he knew about his friends seemed wrong, somehow. That everything he had grown to like and admire was not exactly what they were like. Sure, personality wise they were the same, but the circumstances seemed off.
The tourists were beginning to filter out of the faire towards the exit gates. Merlin turned to watch them leave, since he wasn’t sure where he was going anyway. But something was off. At first, he assumed it was a trick of the light… it had to be. He blinked and stepped a little closer to the gates, as if that would help.
And then it happened again.
As the visitors passed through the gates to get to their cars, they vanished suddenly. No one else seemed to be bothered by this, and Merlin watched it happen over and over again. His heart thumped in his chest.
When was the last time I had ever gone through those gates? He questioned, suddenly frightened at the thought. It was an odd feeling… but Merlin was almost certain he had never stepped through those gates. Surely he would remember it… but when the sun went down, it was almost as if night never existed and the new day just began.
He spun on his heel, watching the employees of the faire as they began packing up their goods and shutting down shop. They all seemed to be in a trance of sorts, not really talking to one another but attempting to get everything packed up before the night fell.
As the faire grounds emptied, it grew quieter and quieter and Merlin wasn’t sure how long he stood there, merely watching everyone work. But as the last tourists disappeared through the archways, the participants of the faire finished cleaning and packing up and were slowly leaving their booths and other attractions. Each of them had a slightly glazed look over their face as they all headed away from their booths. Merlin knew he should follow, but he couldn’t get his feet to move in that direction. Instead, his body turned and headed towards the gates that were still open but unmanned.
He was going to get out of here. To prove to himself that he could leave if he wanted to, and always had been able to. He was being an idiot. The knock on the head obviously had done more damage than he had thought.
But for some reason, Merlin couldn’t stop himself as he began jogging and soon sprinting towards the gates.
He would get through.
No one seemed to notice or care as he hurtled through the gates. And for a split second, Merlin both knew he would succeed as well as probably fail. The part of him that had worked daily in Gaius’s gaming booths knew he was able to leave. But the part of his brain that had seen Gwaine dressed as one of Arthur’s knights and witnessed Gwen dressed as a queen knew it wouldn’t happen.
Merlin could see through the gates up until he collided with a solid wall, sending a shockwave through his body. A flash of blue light exploded in his face, rejecting him and throwing him in the direction he had come from. Merlin landed on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. And quite like when he had hit his head earlier in the day, he saw visions. But these were so much more real than before.
He and Arthur scrabbling through the forest, swords swinging as they battled amongst the other knights and bandits that had attempted to attack their traveling party. He could feel the breath hard in his chest as they sprinted through underbrush and slid on rocks. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
Then he was with Lancelot, talking as they walked down the halls of a castle that seemed so familiar, like a home. Only snippets of their conversation were clear to Merlin, but he felt anxious despite Lancelot’s reassuring tone. Words popped out of the dreamy silence. Magic. Yours. Savior. All from Lancelot’s mouth and directed at Merlin.
Another flash and he was facing a dark haired woman. Morgana. She looked so much wilder than he knew his queen to look, different from what he remembered her to be. But how could he remember her as anything but an actress pretending to be a queen? She held a hand up and her eyes flashed gold. Rocks crumbled around them, falling down. And suddenly Merlin saw himself from the outside. He watched as his own eyes sparked gold like Morgana’s had and Merlin knew what was happening.
Magic.
Merlin’s eyes flicked open and he stared at the dark sky. It was crazy. He couldn’t possibly be thinking that all that he had just seen was true. But there was some sort of barrier keeping him in the faire grounds, so who was to say what was and what wasn’t real?
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the slight tilt in his balance as he moved away from the gates. Where was he going to go? Who would believe him? The dirt roads were empty, as everyone had gone, well, wherever they went for the night since they couldn’t leave either, Merlin assumed. Everything was dark, the booths shut tight and the lanterns extinguished.
Except for one tent.
Morgana's.