[Fic] writing your own future (Merlin BBC)
writing your own future
mizzy2k
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Arthur/Merlin. The future is hidden to Merlin, all but this moment-on a battlefield, with Knights dying around him, with him stretching his hand to an injured Morgana. Merlin's stolen this moment from Morgana's prophecies. Does it have to happen like he saw it?
Disclaimer: Merlin doesn't belong to me.
Warning: Character death.
Author's Notes: Written for ras_elased's revelation meme.
The future is mostly hidden to Merlin.
Merlin's power doesn't resonate much with the idea of foresight. The odds and ends he's been shown, the titbits of information he's been fed... Merlin's been slowly realising in horror the conclusion that all in the magical world expect him to somehow live forever. He guesses telling the future to someone who's supposed to live it is a little redundant.
This, though. He's seen this battle. He's seen it in a borrowed prophecy from Morgana, a few slideshows of an image that scraped into his brain when their magic clashed together. In her head, she saw an old magician taking her to her doom. In her head, she saw Emrys, the old man who would destroy her.
When Merlin realised the image spilling in his head wasn't his own, he spent some time mulling it over. He cast spells and threw runes in the dark corners of Camelot, looking for the truth of it, and everything Merlin encountered followed the same line: Emrys would be Morgana's doom.
Emrys would be Morgana's doom. Not Arthur as Albion's doom. That latter is more what Merlin is starting to suspect.
He's always believed in Arthur, believed in Albion, but the way the war unfolded... It started with border skirmishes, small battles, small victories. And now Arthur's entire army is spilling across the ground between Camelot and Lot's kingdom, and Ealdor is a pawn in the middle, just waiting to crash and burn, and Merlin- Merlin can't think about Arthur creating Albion when his home village, when his mother, is crammed into the middle of the conflict like she's nothing.
Like she's acceptable collateral damage.
And then, then the war clashes into another battle over open ground, Ealdor's huts way too close for Merlin's heart, and that's when Merlin realises he's been here before.
He's seen this ground before.
He's seen it covered with the bodies of Knights and peasants and enemy soldiers. He's seen it drenched in blood. He's seen smoke and fire spreading in the background, maybe even heading towards Ealdor itself.
He's seen borrowed flashes of himself in the Emrys disguise, earnestly telling a prostrate Morgana that it didn't have to come to this, that it didn't have to come to so many people dying, and it rings too true. Merlin's been feeling the urge to don his disguise, to unleash his magic on the hoards. To save Arthur so he can create Albion, a world where the Old Magic could walk amongst the public and feel safe again. A world for all people to feel safe.
But if the price is supposed to be this whole battlefield, covered in corpses...
There has to be a different way.
The battle lines haven't met yet. Arthur's at the head of his line; Morgana's at the head of the other, her head tilted regally, her hand on a wizened Oak staff that Merlin can feel even from here that is strong, powerful. He has a stolen memory of the burn of magic on the air, and he can see from here a copse of trees big enough to hide in, and he can feel the weight of the small aging potion against his thigh, hidden in a pocket, and he knows his Dragoon disguise would be his inevitable thought with odds like this.
But there has to be a different way, and Merlin sees the tilt of Morgana's chin, and thinks, Maybe there is.
He sidles his horse closer to Arthur, keeping his eyes on Morgana, two hundred paces in front of them, a glittering head to the formidable army in their path.
"You could end this right now," Merlin says.
"Don't you think I would if I could," Arthur says, turning his gaze to Merlin. Merlin glances at him and finds himself thinking, sadly, Would you? Would you, really? "Surrendering isn't an option."
Once upon a time, Merlin would have followed Arthur to his death. Except Arthur doesn't even seem to notice that what he's demanding, over and over. To Arthur, Merlin's an ordinary servant. No powers, no actual skill with a sword. Just a young man, with an awkwardness to him and too much of a liking for hanging out in a tavern at inappropriate times.
The idea that Arthur could ever see him as anything else is ludicrous. There have been times in the past when Arthur's looked at him, fond and soft, or touched Merlin's wrist, and they both paused with the weight of what was between them. They both stepped away with the knowledge that it was just a moment that would pass.
Except even now, Arthur might have a little odd tale forming in the back of his skull, about Merlin, the poor languishing serving boy, following him to his death willingly. Loving him that much to do it. Perhaps that's the Merlin who would duck behind the tree, don his Dragoon disguise despite both sides wanting him dead, and unleashing magic until Morgana fell and someone drove him down in punishment for his supposed sins of using magic. Perhaps that Merlin loved Arthur unconditionally to the end.
But this Merlin's seen how that moment ends, and this Merlin doesn't want a Pyrrhic victory. He wants a word safe for magic.
Merlin digs his heels into the horse and rides towards Morgana's army, yanking a white cloth from his pocket and waving it frantically. He can already hear Morgana's laughter.
"Seriously," Morgana says, "this whole force of Knights and Arthur sends a boy."
Morgana's forces titter behind their shields.
"Shall I dispatch him for you?" a lackey to Morgana's side says, not even bothering to hide it in a stage whisper.
"No," Morgana says. "I'll listen to his prattle. It used to amuse me once upon a time."
Merlin swallows and looks at her, calming the magic that instantly tensed in him at the lackey moving his hand to his sword. "What would you say if I could get you Emrys?"
Morgana's expression instantly changes. The regality, the self righteousness, fades away. A desperation crawls onto her face. "You know him. Of course you do. You and Gaius are thick of thieves." She slants her chin a little, forcing the calm posture back. "I would ask you what you would want in return."
"I can promise you Emrys, to fight by your side. Exclusively. There would be conditions."
"Of course." Morgana clasps her hands around her staff. "And do indulge me, Merlin. What would those conditions be?"
"The Cailleach told you that Emrys would be your doom. I know most people think that words means ruin. It also means law. That's my village over there. Our village rules are kept in a dombec."
"So you came over here to give me a vocabulary lesson," Morgana says, turning to the lackey. "Perhaps I'll let you gut him after all."
"Emrys would work for you and promise not to kill you and to do your bidding in return for you uniting Albion. Instead of ruling Camelot, you'd rule the whole island. With his power..." Merlin tilts his head, as if considering the potential, and suddenly Morgana's not laughing. "There would be certain exclusions. Ealdor must be kept safe. Gaius and myself, of course. Gwen. My mother."
"What's going on?"
Merlin twists in the saddle and freezes. Maybe Arthur thinks Merlin's just a normal serving boy, but he thinks Merlin's worth following-even up to the brink of Morgana's forces without his Knights to back him up. And that means something Merlin has to swallow back down and deny quickly, because what use is love when no one's safe?
"I think your boy's trying to sell me the kingdom," Morgana purrs, and Merlin can't bring himself to look at Arthur's face. Arthur's confusion and disbelief is palpable, and it makes something in Merlin's chest tighten, and realise there really is only one reason for Arthur to risk his life like this for a serving boy.
But even if there is a reason of the heart for this, Merlin needs to be himself. And that's not possible in Arthur's world. In this new world, his mother will be safe, and Gaius and Gwen, and that's not a lot, but it's enough.
"That would be your price for ensuring Emrys bound to me," Morgana says. "A finder's fee, I suppose. Well. Deliver me proof you can."
"Proof?" Merlin pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, then pulls out the ageing potion and tosses it at Morgana. She nearly drops her staff, and her brow furrows.
"One of your healing remedies," Morgana says, "well, your attempt at humour is appreciated if ill-timed. Lourdes, you can kill him now."
The lackey by Morgana's side moves forward, and Merlin can see from the corner of his eye Arthur going for his sword, but Merlin's faster than that. He throws out a hand and his eyes burn with the familiar flash of gold, and Lourdes crumples to the ground, instantly asleep.
Merlin turns in the saddle, his eyes still burning, and stretches his hands out to the Knights. They're too far away to see the specifics of this betrayal, but by Morgana's side, he can keep more of them alive than would have survived the slaughter of this battle.
He speaks a short phrase, and the Knights of Camelot tumble over in their saddles, falling to a gentle sleep and not an inevitable death. It's as much of a gift that Merlin can give at this point.
He turns back to Morgana, and his eyes still shine. He moves his head to mirror her regal tilt. "I can't believe you were fooled by an aging potion," he says, nodding at the small glass bottle still in her hand. Her eyes widen in realisation.
"Emrys," she breathes, and he holds out his hand. She takes it and smiles, wide and brilliant.
Merlin looks at her, and then glances across at Arthur. He's already steeled himself to see Arthur as a stranger, but the sadness on Arthur's face is as familiar as any of Merlin's friends.
"Prove to me you're mine," Morgana hisses, "and your conditions are my own."
"How?"
"Kill Arthur, of course."
Merlin pulls his hand away from Morgana and turns back to Arthur. Despite the fear on Arthur's face, there is anger and there is acceptance.
"Tell me," Arthur says, "was there any other different outcome to this day? Anything I could have done?"
Merlin shakes his head, because he will not be cruel. "Nothing but all your men dead, all of Morgana's men dead, and Morgana herself fallen."
Arthur swallows, nods, and everything washes away to bravery. "Keep as many of my men alive as you can. They'll be loyal to you. They love as I do."
Merlin pulls him close. "You wouldn't have made a world where I would have ever felt safe."
Arthur's bravery drops away and for a moment, it's not them on a battlefield, it's just them. "I guess now we'll never know."
The sting curls down deep, and Merlin's magic is instinctive. He looks down to find Arthur's heart in his hands, and Arthur's head against his shoulder. He throws the bloodied mess at Morgana, and looks down, his eyes glowing gold. They'll never stop glowing again, all the way up to the end of the world, when it crumbles into ash and he can still feel Arthur's heart in his hands as the universe falls away.
But that's in the future, and the future is hidden to Merlin, but that doesn't matter. It's Merlin that killed Arthur, and it's Emrys that jumps down from his horse to join Morgana, to follow his new Queen into a new future that they can forge together. He leaves Merlin behind where he belongs, on the battlefield, where Arthur's heart lies in the grass.
mizzy2k
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Arthur/Merlin. The future is hidden to Merlin, all but this moment-on a battlefield, with Knights dying around him, with him stretching his hand to an injured Morgana. Merlin's stolen this moment from Morgana's prophecies. Does it have to happen like he saw it?
Disclaimer: Merlin doesn't belong to me.
Warning: Character death.
Author's Notes: Written for ras_elased's revelation meme.
The future is mostly hidden to Merlin.
Merlin's power doesn't resonate much with the idea of foresight. The odds and ends he's been shown, the titbits of information he's been fed... Merlin's been slowly realising in horror the conclusion that all in the magical world expect him to somehow live forever. He guesses telling the future to someone who's supposed to live it is a little redundant.
This, though. He's seen this battle. He's seen it in a borrowed prophecy from Morgana, a few slideshows of an image that scraped into his brain when their magic clashed together. In her head, she saw an old magician taking her to her doom. In her head, she saw Emrys, the old man who would destroy her.
When Merlin realised the image spilling in his head wasn't his own, he spent some time mulling it over. He cast spells and threw runes in the dark corners of Camelot, looking for the truth of it, and everything Merlin encountered followed the same line: Emrys would be Morgana's doom.
Emrys would be Morgana's doom. Not Arthur as Albion's doom. That latter is more what Merlin is starting to suspect.
He's always believed in Arthur, believed in Albion, but the way the war unfolded... It started with border skirmishes, small battles, small victories. And now Arthur's entire army is spilling across the ground between Camelot and Lot's kingdom, and Ealdor is a pawn in the middle, just waiting to crash and burn, and Merlin- Merlin can't think about Arthur creating Albion when his home village, when his mother, is crammed into the middle of the conflict like she's nothing.
Like she's acceptable collateral damage.
And then, then the war clashes into another battle over open ground, Ealdor's huts way too close for Merlin's heart, and that's when Merlin realises he's been here before.
He's seen this ground before.
He's seen it covered with the bodies of Knights and peasants and enemy soldiers. He's seen it drenched in blood. He's seen smoke and fire spreading in the background, maybe even heading towards Ealdor itself.
He's seen borrowed flashes of himself in the Emrys disguise, earnestly telling a prostrate Morgana that it didn't have to come to this, that it didn't have to come to so many people dying, and it rings too true. Merlin's been feeling the urge to don his disguise, to unleash his magic on the hoards. To save Arthur so he can create Albion, a world where the Old Magic could walk amongst the public and feel safe again. A world for all people to feel safe.
But if the price is supposed to be this whole battlefield, covered in corpses...
There has to be a different way.
The battle lines haven't met yet. Arthur's at the head of his line; Morgana's at the head of the other, her head tilted regally, her hand on a wizened Oak staff that Merlin can feel even from here that is strong, powerful. He has a stolen memory of the burn of magic on the air, and he can see from here a copse of trees big enough to hide in, and he can feel the weight of the small aging potion against his thigh, hidden in a pocket, and he knows his Dragoon disguise would be his inevitable thought with odds like this.
But there has to be a different way, and Merlin sees the tilt of Morgana's chin, and thinks, Maybe there is.
He sidles his horse closer to Arthur, keeping his eyes on Morgana, two hundred paces in front of them, a glittering head to the formidable army in their path.
"You could end this right now," Merlin says.
"Don't you think I would if I could," Arthur says, turning his gaze to Merlin. Merlin glances at him and finds himself thinking, sadly, Would you? Would you, really? "Surrendering isn't an option."
Once upon a time, Merlin would have followed Arthur to his death. Except Arthur doesn't even seem to notice that what he's demanding, over and over. To Arthur, Merlin's an ordinary servant. No powers, no actual skill with a sword. Just a young man, with an awkwardness to him and too much of a liking for hanging out in a tavern at inappropriate times.
The idea that Arthur could ever see him as anything else is ludicrous. There have been times in the past when Arthur's looked at him, fond and soft, or touched Merlin's wrist, and they both paused with the weight of what was between them. They both stepped away with the knowledge that it was just a moment that would pass.
Except even now, Arthur might have a little odd tale forming in the back of his skull, about Merlin, the poor languishing serving boy, following him to his death willingly. Loving him that much to do it. Perhaps that's the Merlin who would duck behind the tree, don his Dragoon disguise despite both sides wanting him dead, and unleashing magic until Morgana fell and someone drove him down in punishment for his supposed sins of using magic. Perhaps that Merlin loved Arthur unconditionally to the end.
But this Merlin's seen how that moment ends, and this Merlin doesn't want a Pyrrhic victory. He wants a word safe for magic.
Merlin digs his heels into the horse and rides towards Morgana's army, yanking a white cloth from his pocket and waving it frantically. He can already hear Morgana's laughter.
"Seriously," Morgana says, "this whole force of Knights and Arthur sends a boy."
Morgana's forces titter behind their shields.
"Shall I dispatch him for you?" a lackey to Morgana's side says, not even bothering to hide it in a stage whisper.
"No," Morgana says. "I'll listen to his prattle. It used to amuse me once upon a time."
Merlin swallows and looks at her, calming the magic that instantly tensed in him at the lackey moving his hand to his sword. "What would you say if I could get you Emrys?"
Morgana's expression instantly changes. The regality, the self righteousness, fades away. A desperation crawls onto her face. "You know him. Of course you do. You and Gaius are thick of thieves." She slants her chin a little, forcing the calm posture back. "I would ask you what you would want in return."
"I can promise you Emrys, to fight by your side. Exclusively. There would be conditions."
"Of course." Morgana clasps her hands around her staff. "And do indulge me, Merlin. What would those conditions be?"
"The Cailleach told you that Emrys would be your doom. I know most people think that words means ruin. It also means law. That's my village over there. Our village rules are kept in a dombec."
"So you came over here to give me a vocabulary lesson," Morgana says, turning to the lackey. "Perhaps I'll let you gut him after all."
"Emrys would work for you and promise not to kill you and to do your bidding in return for you uniting Albion. Instead of ruling Camelot, you'd rule the whole island. With his power..." Merlin tilts his head, as if considering the potential, and suddenly Morgana's not laughing. "There would be certain exclusions. Ealdor must be kept safe. Gaius and myself, of course. Gwen. My mother."
"What's going on?"
Merlin twists in the saddle and freezes. Maybe Arthur thinks Merlin's just a normal serving boy, but he thinks Merlin's worth following-even up to the brink of Morgana's forces without his Knights to back him up. And that means something Merlin has to swallow back down and deny quickly, because what use is love when no one's safe?
"I think your boy's trying to sell me the kingdom," Morgana purrs, and Merlin can't bring himself to look at Arthur's face. Arthur's confusion and disbelief is palpable, and it makes something in Merlin's chest tighten, and realise there really is only one reason for Arthur to risk his life like this for a serving boy.
But even if there is a reason of the heart for this, Merlin needs to be himself. And that's not possible in Arthur's world. In this new world, his mother will be safe, and Gaius and Gwen, and that's not a lot, but it's enough.
"That would be your price for ensuring Emrys bound to me," Morgana says. "A finder's fee, I suppose. Well. Deliver me proof you can."
"Proof?" Merlin pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, then pulls out the ageing potion and tosses it at Morgana. She nearly drops her staff, and her brow furrows.
"One of your healing remedies," Morgana says, "well, your attempt at humour is appreciated if ill-timed. Lourdes, you can kill him now."
The lackey by Morgana's side moves forward, and Merlin can see from the corner of his eye Arthur going for his sword, but Merlin's faster than that. He throws out a hand and his eyes burn with the familiar flash of gold, and Lourdes crumples to the ground, instantly asleep.
Merlin turns in the saddle, his eyes still burning, and stretches his hands out to the Knights. They're too far away to see the specifics of this betrayal, but by Morgana's side, he can keep more of them alive than would have survived the slaughter of this battle.
He speaks a short phrase, and the Knights of Camelot tumble over in their saddles, falling to a gentle sleep and not an inevitable death. It's as much of a gift that Merlin can give at this point.
He turns back to Morgana, and his eyes still shine. He moves his head to mirror her regal tilt. "I can't believe you were fooled by an aging potion," he says, nodding at the small glass bottle still in her hand. Her eyes widen in realisation.
"Emrys," she breathes, and he holds out his hand. She takes it and smiles, wide and brilliant.
Merlin looks at her, and then glances across at Arthur. He's already steeled himself to see Arthur as a stranger, but the sadness on Arthur's face is as familiar as any of Merlin's friends.
"Prove to me you're mine," Morgana hisses, "and your conditions are my own."
"How?"
"Kill Arthur, of course."
Merlin pulls his hand away from Morgana and turns back to Arthur. Despite the fear on Arthur's face, there is anger and there is acceptance.
"Tell me," Arthur says, "was there any other different outcome to this day? Anything I could have done?"
Merlin shakes his head, because he will not be cruel. "Nothing but all your men dead, all of Morgana's men dead, and Morgana herself fallen."
Arthur swallows, nods, and everything washes away to bravery. "Keep as many of my men alive as you can. They'll be loyal to you. They love as I do."
Merlin pulls him close. "You wouldn't have made a world where I would have ever felt safe."
Arthur's bravery drops away and for a moment, it's not them on a battlefield, it's just them. "I guess now we'll never know."
The sting curls down deep, and Merlin's magic is instinctive. He looks down to find Arthur's heart in his hands, and Arthur's head against his shoulder. He throws the bloodied mess at Morgana, and looks down, his eyes glowing gold. They'll never stop glowing again, all the way up to the end of the world, when it crumbles into ash and he can still feel Arthur's heart in his hands as the universe falls away.
But that's in the future, and the future is hidden to Merlin, but that doesn't matter. It's Merlin that killed Arthur, and it's Emrys that jumps down from his horse to join Morgana, to follow his new Queen into a new future that they can forge together. He leaves Merlin behind where he belongs, on the battlefield, where Arthur's heart lies in the grass.