Six of One: 3
Part Two
Part Three
The scene Mordred ran into was one of chaos. Leon stood yelling at Gaius who was checking over his patient for a hidden injury, Gwaine was shouting at them both and Percival and Elyan were stood to the side hovering worriedly, both trying to find out what exactly had happened.
And in the centre of all that noise and movement lay Lord Emrys, on a bed of wood and rope, still… too still.
Mordred gave no thought to the men around him as he pushed through and crashed to his knees beside the warlock.
“Emrys?” he whispered fearfully, hesitantly lifting a shaking hand to rest against the man’s chest… still, no movement. Swallowing back the sob that wanted to break lose he gave the strong chest an urgent shake. “Emrys!” he repeated louder. But there was nothing, literally nothing.
The golden and blue aura that flowed through everything Emrys was was gone, the faint buzzing of power in the back of Mordred head whenever his Lord was near was silent, the chest upon which Mordred’s hand now clutched was still.
“No,” he choked blinking wet eyes up to Gaius watching on forlornly. “Gaius, do something!”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” the physician choked. “He’s gone.”
Mordred didn’t see the knights surrounding him crumple with grief, he didn’t see the tears flowing freely down the old physicians face. All he saw was Emrys; his sharp features and his strong jaw, his cheekbones and beneath covered eyelids he could still see those hauntingly beautiful eyes he had never forgotten from all those years ago… And he couldn’t be, couldn’t be gone.
“This isn’t,” Mordred stuttered. “This wasn’t what was supposed to happen!”
“He warned you,” Gaius growled through his tears. “He tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen.”
“This… This isn’t my doing. I did what I was supposed to do!” Mordred cried. “I - I can fix this.”
Mordred swallowed back his useless, useless tears and concentrated on the small well of power within his soul. His hand pressed tightly to Emrys’ firm chest and the other rested gently against the man’s pale jaw and he pushed. He pushed all the magic within him, funnelled it through his will into Emrys and felt the power within him eyes flare from his eyes for the first time in many years.
He pushed it all, everything he had into the connection, willing Emrys’ heart to beat, to send life giving blood through the man’s veins. Mordred felt the power surging and collecting around them both, felt the bed on which Emrys lay shake, heard the bottles on the shelves around rattle and shatter, heard books fall from their shelves. He pushed and pushed until he could no more and finally took a breath.
He opened his eyes hopefully… but there was no change.
“No,” Mordred growled in denial. “No, there has to be-“
“What the hell is going on down here?”
Mordred glanced back over his shoulder to see the King stood in the doorway glancing around at the fallen debris. His golden crown sitting neatly on top his head, his red cloak flowing regally around his shoulders and Mordred felt his eyes narrow and his heart seethe.
--
Arthur’s eyes bounced between the bodies in the room, his frown of annoyance slowly morphing into one of concern at the stricken faces of his men and the tears freely slipping down Gaius’ face.
“Wha-“ he began before his eyes fell on the bed before Mordred and his face went slack. “Merlin?”
The king was on his knees beside the small bed in a blink his wide eyes scanning the body before him powerlessly. “Gaius,” he asked helplessly looking over his shoulder. “What?”
Gaius opened his quivering mouth but shut it, quickly stalling the sob that was trying to escape and just shook his head forlornly.
“No,” Arthur whispered, his hands frantically pawing at Merlin’s neck and chest for the beat of a heart before lowering his head quickly to lay against the man’s still chest. When he pulled back his face was pale, like it had been his own life-force drained, and he looked at the still body lying on the bed. “No. Gaius,” the king pleaded to the physician. “Do something!”
“There isn’t anything I can do sire.”
“There has to be!” Arthur cried. “Use magic, anything!”
“Haven’t you learnt,” Gaius growled, suddenly furious. “Has this taught you nothing? Life and Death are not powers to be trifled with.”
“But this isn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be him.. I-“
“He warned you, told you you couldn’t contain these forces but you didn’t even listen, worse you pushed him away,” Gaius scoffed, his voice uncharacteristically bitter. “It seems that he paid the ultimate price for your ignorance.”
Arthur stared back at the physician, his childhood teacher, a let the single tear escape his eyes.
“Can someone please tell me what the hell happened?” Percival asked from his stand in the corner, his eyes staring between the physician and his king wide and wet. “Merlin… is he really…. He doesn’t even have any wounds!”
Gaius swallowed and tore his eyes from the slump of their king. “His life was torn from him.”
“Magic?” Elyan asked fearfully.
“Arthur killed him.”
All eyes turned then, as one, to the boy, the new knight still slumped beside the servant’s bed, his hands gripping tightly to the man’s pale and now cold hand.
“What?” Leon gasped staring wide eyed at his king.
“No-“ Arthur growled. But Mordred had lifted his eyes from where they had been focused at the cold empty body before him fixing the King with his steely gaze, no hint of the kind, charming boy they had all grown to love.
“Arthur,” Mordred hissed staring down the king over Emrys’ body, “your great King and warrior traded the life of his lowly servant for an heir to continue his reign.”
“No!” the king denied again, his watery eyes sparking. “No that’s not what happened! It was you-“
“You think that I would have chosen you, you and your regency over Emrys?” Mordred hissed dangerously rising up above the bed. “He was our saviour, the one who would bring peace, and now he’s gone all because of you!”
“What?”
Mordred sneered down upon to the king, the almighty king of Camelot cowering below him, his eyes wide and pathetically wet. Like any tears he shed could make one iota of difference to what he had just done... the life he had just taken.
“Congratulations Arthur Pendragon. You have just murdered the only being that stood between your kingdom and destruction.”
--
“What?” Arthur whispered looking up at Mordred pleadingly. He placed a hand gently, forlornly over Emrys’ still chest, his fingers clinging slightly into the thin material of the tunic. Mordred felt his eyes narrow further. “I don’t understand... I thought… the balance!”
“The balance for something your kingdom needed to continue was something your kingdom could not survive without,” Mordred chuckled darkly but Arthur was no longer looking at him, his eyes were focused down onto the pale waxy face of Emrys’ body. Mordred watched the Kings hand cup gently at the warlocks jaw, his thumb rubbing against the cold flesh.
Arthur was murmuring, apologies; pleas for forgiveness, Mordred didn’t care. His whole being was focused down onto that point of contact; where the bloodied hands of a murder dared to taint Emrys’ pure skin.
“Don’t touch him,” he hissed. Arthur’s face snapped up but it was too late. Mordred’s eyes flared gold and the king went flying, knocking the physician and the approaching Leon in his path. “None of you touch him!”
None of these men, these men that were not worthy of the love Emrys granted them would not touch or taint him anymore. As carefully as Mordred had seen Arthur handling his new born Mordred stooped, gently scooping his arms under Emrys’ stiffening shoulders and knees.
“Mordred?” the king spoke groggily struggling up from his sprawl in the corner. Arthur’s eyes widened though when he saw the Knight and sorcerer backing away from the cot, Merlin in his arms. “Mordred put Merlin down. Now!”
“No,” Mordred replied coldly tightening his hold. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Don’t you think he has given you enough? He gave you the last years of his existence and now his life. You have your wife, your child. You got what you wanted aren’t you happy now?”
“No,” Arthur said wetly. He reached out a calming hand in the Knights direction. “Mordred this isn't what I wanted-“
“Enough!” Mordred barked, his eyes flaring gold in warning. “We’ve both heard enough from you.”
Arthur’s eyes widened like he knew what Mordred was planning to do before he even did it. He clumsily lunged forward, reaching a grasping hand across the physician’s rickety cot but it was too late. Mordred smirked at the desperate king as his eyes flared gold once more and in a whip of wind the knight was gone.
--
This was the part of grief that Arthur hated, and he had felt his fair share over the years - the constant turning of the earth, the feeling that if you didn’t look hard enough you wouldn’t be able to tell anything had really changed, that the world was whole.
Arthur stood arms crossed staring out at the city before him, people running about their normal lives, unaware that the world as it stood had irrevocably changed. Arthur took in a shaky breath, pushing his closed fist hard to his mouth. They didn’t know, more over the people below his feet probably didn’t even care.
Had their Queen died there would be public mourning, a week of sobriety and candle lit vigils and an anniversary marked in the court calendars to remember the date that Camelot lost its queen evermore. There would be none of that for a servant, even the servant of the King…
“Sire?”
Arthur turned slowly from his gaze to see Leon stood warily by the open chamber door, obviously having knocked and received no answer. Arthur didn’t know what his face looked like, whether it mirrored the tumultuous mess of emotions running through him but whatever it was made Leon swallow and lower his gaze slightly.
“Where is the Queen and prince?” Leon asked gently after the silence hung between them heavily for a moment.
“Prince William is with the nurse maid,” Arthur spoke, not surprised when his voice came out cracked and gritty. “Guinevere…. Gaius had to give her something... to calm her down.”
Leon nodded slowly in understanding and Arthur had to turn away from his knight, hiding the fresh wave of tears that tried to escape his eyes when he remembered Guinevere’s face when he had told her what happened, how her eyes widened in disbelief, in horror and how she refused to believe him, refused to believe that her friend was gone. How she demanded that Arthur send for him right then, that she wanted to introduce her son to his uncle. And Arthur had held her as her rage and disbelief dissolved into tears and guilt, not even being able to give her a body to grieve over.
Arthur’s jaw tightened visibly. “Have you found him yet?” he growled casting his now steely stare at Leon.
“No sire,” Leon replied, apology in his tone. “We’ve sent scouts out the forest but we have had no such luck yet.”
“Well look harder!”
“We are trying Arthur, he… Merlin was our friend too. But Mordred has magic, he could be anywhere.”
Arthur but his lip to stop the tirade he wanted to shout at his knight, his loyal knight. “He needs a proper burial,” Arthur finally spoke quietly, grief choking his words. “He needs… he deserves a resting place. Something…”
“He was a sorcerer Arthur,” Leon said, shaking his head sadly. ”The law states-“
“I don’t care!” Arthur thundered before taking a deep breath. “And we don’t know that. We only have the accusations of a deranged knight and magic user. I will not condemn a man’s memory on unsolicited rumours.”
Leon shifted uneasily then not meeting Arthur’s eyes. Which was a red flag signal to Arthur, Leon never withheld information, especially from Arthur. “What Leon?” Arthur asked stepping forward towards the knight. “What is it?”
“I saw him Sire,” Leon spoke hesitantly, “when I found him, in the armoury. He… with his last breaths… it was definitely sorcery sire, there is no mistaking it.”
“What did he do?”
Leon hesitated again but reached into his belt pouch, his leather gloved hand held out before him towards his King. Upon his palm where eight stones, blue at first look but each swirling otherworldly and within each interlaced a different colour too indistinct and flighty to pinpoint but undeniable.
Arthur looked up in question to see Leon’s face pale but firm. “Merlin made them sire, from… he asked me to rip up his scarf, I thought he was going to use it to treat himself.”
“But he made stones?” Arthur asked in confusion looking back down at the swirling masses in Leon’s hand.
“Yes, I was going to ask Gaius what their purpose was but… things have been…”
“Yes,” Arthur replied distractedly, mesmerised by the swirling colours, before straightening and hardening his gaze. “We should go now.”
--
The door to the physician’s chamber bounced off the wall behind it as Arthur stormed in. But the rage and storm he had twisted himself up into slumped dramatically when he saw the elderly physician, the man he had known since he was a boy, looking older and more weary than he ever had, hunched at his table staring into space.
But at the cacophony of the King and Leon’s entry Gaius looked up, revealing wet glistening eyes on his drawn face.
“Gaius,” Arthur spoke clearing his throat.
“Sire?” Gaius frowned. “Is everything alright?” He began to push himself from the table but Arthur waved him down.
“No… everything’s… it’s fine Gaius,” Arthur mumbled waving Leon forward. “I’m sorry to trouble you at this time but we need your knowledge.”
Leon held out his hand wordlessly showing the ethereal stones still swirling in his palm. Arthur watched as Gaius’ face slackened in awe and he hovered an aging hand over the spheres.
“Leon discovered them,” Arthur spoke, watching the old man’s face carefully. “We believe sorcery was involved. Is that correct?”
“Yes sire. Powerful sorcery,” Gaius almost whispered still staring at the gems.
But Arthur’s jaw tightened, and his heart seethed and his vision blurred with anger as he pulled back his shoulders. “Merlin made them,” he spoke lowly into the room.
Gaius shook his head manically. “No sire-“
But Arthur’s mouth slackened in shock because he could see the lie behind the frantic denial.
“You’re lying,” he whispered in wonder stepping forward towards the aging physician. “Merlin was a sorcerer?”
It was barely conceivable, madness to even consider such a thing but it was there, staring him right in the face, sitting in Leon’s palm.
“He practiced magic?” he shouted into the silence as Gaius just watched him wide eyed, more tears pooling in his cloudy eyes.
“Sire,” the physician whispered into the throbbing tension of the room. “Does it matter?”
“Matter? Of course it matters!” Arthur raged all the emotions the grief the guilt the joy and fear of the last few hours raining down on him. “He… he’s lied to me! All this time. I trusted him and all the while-“
“All the while what Arthur?” Gaius snapped, his glistening eyes becoming hard. “All the while he worked tirelessly and unthanked in the background ensuring that you and all you held dear were safe. That is all he has ever done so if you are just here to besmirch the memory of my boy you can leave!”
Arthur and Gaius stared each other down, stormy eyes to stormy eyes. It was Leon who broke the strained silence, speaking quietly into the room.
“What are these,” the knight asked holding his hand still steady before him. “Merlin used his last breath to create them. What could be so important?”
Gaius looked down at the stones in Leon’s hand a fresh wash of grief on his face. “Oh my boy,” he whispered picking one form the pack and rolling it between his fingers. Arthur and Leon both held their breaths awaiting his word. “They are for protection,” Gaius spoke quietly and wetly after a moment, placing the stone back in Leon’s grasp. “No, that’s too simple. These are not merely protection charms; they are the embodiment of protection.
“They…” Gaius swallowed. “Merlin’s power was not something you can be taught, not something you can recreate in another and unsurpassed in competition. But he was quite happy to serve you Arthur, he believed in you even when you shut him out and ignored his sage advice. Each of these… they were made specifically for one other.”
“This one’s for you sire,” Gaius said lowly taking one stone and holding it reverently out to Arthur. “It holds just a fraction of Merlin’s innate power fed with his intent to protect you. It is a powerful and precious object… there is one here for your son as well.”
Arthur couldn’t hold back the tear that slipped down his cheek as all the tumultuous emotions surging through him collided. But when the stone was placed in his hand, even separated from his skin by his glove it… there wasn’t really a feeling that describe the feeling of safe, loved, protected, that washed over him, the exact feeling he would get but never admit to when Merlin shot him one of his proud smiles across the council room or camp fire.
“Mordred,” Arthur choked eventually swallowing down his tears, “Mordred called him Emrys?”
“And that is a long story sire,” Gaius replied tiredly sinking himself down onto the bench, his eyes drifting over to the closed wooden door at the back of the room.
Arthur thought of his new born son in the rooms above, his little hands and his little nose. He thought of his wife, knocked asleep in her sorrow and guilt in their chambers. He thought of his knights all wallowing in their own grief. And then he thought of his servant and his smiles and his wisdom and his cheer, the constant steadying presence and then thought about the body, cold and still that had lain on the cot just over there….
“I have time.”
Part Four
Part Three
The scene Mordred ran into was one of chaos. Leon stood yelling at Gaius who was checking over his patient for a hidden injury, Gwaine was shouting at them both and Percival and Elyan were stood to the side hovering worriedly, both trying to find out what exactly had happened.
And in the centre of all that noise and movement lay Lord Emrys, on a bed of wood and rope, still… too still.
Mordred gave no thought to the men around him as he pushed through and crashed to his knees beside the warlock.
“Emrys?” he whispered fearfully, hesitantly lifting a shaking hand to rest against the man’s chest… still, no movement. Swallowing back the sob that wanted to break lose he gave the strong chest an urgent shake. “Emrys!” he repeated louder. But there was nothing, literally nothing.
The golden and blue aura that flowed through everything Emrys was was gone, the faint buzzing of power in the back of Mordred head whenever his Lord was near was silent, the chest upon which Mordred’s hand now clutched was still.
“No,” he choked blinking wet eyes up to Gaius watching on forlornly. “Gaius, do something!”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” the physician choked. “He’s gone.”
Mordred didn’t see the knights surrounding him crumple with grief, he didn’t see the tears flowing freely down the old physicians face. All he saw was Emrys; his sharp features and his strong jaw, his cheekbones and beneath covered eyelids he could still see those hauntingly beautiful eyes he had never forgotten from all those years ago… And he couldn’t be, couldn’t be gone.
“This isn’t,” Mordred stuttered. “This wasn’t what was supposed to happen!”
“He warned you,” Gaius growled through his tears. “He tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen.”
“This… This isn’t my doing. I did what I was supposed to do!” Mordred cried. “I - I can fix this.”
Mordred swallowed back his useless, useless tears and concentrated on the small well of power within his soul. His hand pressed tightly to Emrys’ firm chest and the other rested gently against the man’s pale jaw and he pushed. He pushed all the magic within him, funnelled it through his will into Emrys and felt the power within him eyes flare from his eyes for the first time in many years.
He pushed it all, everything he had into the connection, willing Emrys’ heart to beat, to send life giving blood through the man’s veins. Mordred felt the power surging and collecting around them both, felt the bed on which Emrys lay shake, heard the bottles on the shelves around rattle and shatter, heard books fall from their shelves. He pushed and pushed until he could no more and finally took a breath.
He opened his eyes hopefully… but there was no change.
“No,” Mordred growled in denial. “No, there has to be-“
“What the hell is going on down here?”
Mordred glanced back over his shoulder to see the King stood in the doorway glancing around at the fallen debris. His golden crown sitting neatly on top his head, his red cloak flowing regally around his shoulders and Mordred felt his eyes narrow and his heart seethe.
--
Arthur’s eyes bounced between the bodies in the room, his frown of annoyance slowly morphing into one of concern at the stricken faces of his men and the tears freely slipping down Gaius’ face.
“Wha-“ he began before his eyes fell on the bed before Mordred and his face went slack. “Merlin?”
The king was on his knees beside the small bed in a blink his wide eyes scanning the body before him powerlessly. “Gaius,” he asked helplessly looking over his shoulder. “What?”
Gaius opened his quivering mouth but shut it, quickly stalling the sob that was trying to escape and just shook his head forlornly.
“No,” Arthur whispered, his hands frantically pawing at Merlin’s neck and chest for the beat of a heart before lowering his head quickly to lay against the man’s still chest. When he pulled back his face was pale, like it had been his own life-force drained, and he looked at the still body lying on the bed. “No. Gaius,” the king pleaded to the physician. “Do something!”
“There isn’t anything I can do sire.”
“There has to be!” Arthur cried. “Use magic, anything!”
“Haven’t you learnt,” Gaius growled, suddenly furious. “Has this taught you nothing? Life and Death are not powers to be trifled with.”
“But this isn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be him.. I-“
“He warned you, told you you couldn’t contain these forces but you didn’t even listen, worse you pushed him away,” Gaius scoffed, his voice uncharacteristically bitter. “It seems that he paid the ultimate price for your ignorance.”
Arthur stared back at the physician, his childhood teacher, a let the single tear escape his eyes.
“Can someone please tell me what the hell happened?” Percival asked from his stand in the corner, his eyes staring between the physician and his king wide and wet. “Merlin… is he really…. He doesn’t even have any wounds!”
Gaius swallowed and tore his eyes from the slump of their king. “His life was torn from him.”
“Magic?” Elyan asked fearfully.
“Arthur killed him.”
All eyes turned then, as one, to the boy, the new knight still slumped beside the servant’s bed, his hands gripping tightly to the man’s pale and now cold hand.
“What?” Leon gasped staring wide eyed at his king.
“No-“ Arthur growled. But Mordred had lifted his eyes from where they had been focused at the cold empty body before him fixing the King with his steely gaze, no hint of the kind, charming boy they had all grown to love.
“Arthur,” Mordred hissed staring down the king over Emrys’ body, “your great King and warrior traded the life of his lowly servant for an heir to continue his reign.”
“No!” the king denied again, his watery eyes sparking. “No that’s not what happened! It was you-“
“You think that I would have chosen you, you and your regency over Emrys?” Mordred hissed dangerously rising up above the bed. “He was our saviour, the one who would bring peace, and now he’s gone all because of you!”
“What?”
Mordred sneered down upon to the king, the almighty king of Camelot cowering below him, his eyes wide and pathetically wet. Like any tears he shed could make one iota of difference to what he had just done... the life he had just taken.
“Congratulations Arthur Pendragon. You have just murdered the only being that stood between your kingdom and destruction.”
--
“What?” Arthur whispered looking up at Mordred pleadingly. He placed a hand gently, forlornly over Emrys’ still chest, his fingers clinging slightly into the thin material of the tunic. Mordred felt his eyes narrow further. “I don’t understand... I thought… the balance!”
“The balance for something your kingdom needed to continue was something your kingdom could not survive without,” Mordred chuckled darkly but Arthur was no longer looking at him, his eyes were focused down onto the pale waxy face of Emrys’ body. Mordred watched the Kings hand cup gently at the warlocks jaw, his thumb rubbing against the cold flesh.
Arthur was murmuring, apologies; pleas for forgiveness, Mordred didn’t care. His whole being was focused down onto that point of contact; where the bloodied hands of a murder dared to taint Emrys’ pure skin.
“Don’t touch him,” he hissed. Arthur’s face snapped up but it was too late. Mordred’s eyes flared gold and the king went flying, knocking the physician and the approaching Leon in his path. “None of you touch him!”
None of these men, these men that were not worthy of the love Emrys granted them would not touch or taint him anymore. As carefully as Mordred had seen Arthur handling his new born Mordred stooped, gently scooping his arms under Emrys’ stiffening shoulders and knees.
“Mordred?” the king spoke groggily struggling up from his sprawl in the corner. Arthur’s eyes widened though when he saw the Knight and sorcerer backing away from the cot, Merlin in his arms. “Mordred put Merlin down. Now!”
“No,” Mordred replied coldly tightening his hold. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Don’t you think he has given you enough? He gave you the last years of his existence and now his life. You have your wife, your child. You got what you wanted aren’t you happy now?”
“No,” Arthur said wetly. He reached out a calming hand in the Knights direction. “Mordred this isn't what I wanted-“
“Enough!” Mordred barked, his eyes flaring gold in warning. “We’ve both heard enough from you.”
Arthur’s eyes widened like he knew what Mordred was planning to do before he even did it. He clumsily lunged forward, reaching a grasping hand across the physician’s rickety cot but it was too late. Mordred smirked at the desperate king as his eyes flared gold once more and in a whip of wind the knight was gone.
--
This was the part of grief that Arthur hated, and he had felt his fair share over the years - the constant turning of the earth, the feeling that if you didn’t look hard enough you wouldn’t be able to tell anything had really changed, that the world was whole.
Arthur stood arms crossed staring out at the city before him, people running about their normal lives, unaware that the world as it stood had irrevocably changed. Arthur took in a shaky breath, pushing his closed fist hard to his mouth. They didn’t know, more over the people below his feet probably didn’t even care.
Had their Queen died there would be public mourning, a week of sobriety and candle lit vigils and an anniversary marked in the court calendars to remember the date that Camelot lost its queen evermore. There would be none of that for a servant, even the servant of the King…
“Sire?”
Arthur turned slowly from his gaze to see Leon stood warily by the open chamber door, obviously having knocked and received no answer. Arthur didn’t know what his face looked like, whether it mirrored the tumultuous mess of emotions running through him but whatever it was made Leon swallow and lower his gaze slightly.
“Where is the Queen and prince?” Leon asked gently after the silence hung between them heavily for a moment.
“Prince William is with the nurse maid,” Arthur spoke, not surprised when his voice came out cracked and gritty. “Guinevere…. Gaius had to give her something... to calm her down.”
Leon nodded slowly in understanding and Arthur had to turn away from his knight, hiding the fresh wave of tears that tried to escape his eyes when he remembered Guinevere’s face when he had told her what happened, how her eyes widened in disbelief, in horror and how she refused to believe him, refused to believe that her friend was gone. How she demanded that Arthur send for him right then, that she wanted to introduce her son to his uncle. And Arthur had held her as her rage and disbelief dissolved into tears and guilt, not even being able to give her a body to grieve over.
Arthur’s jaw tightened visibly. “Have you found him yet?” he growled casting his now steely stare at Leon.
“No sire,” Leon replied, apology in his tone. “We’ve sent scouts out the forest but we have had no such luck yet.”
“Well look harder!”
“We are trying Arthur, he… Merlin was our friend too. But Mordred has magic, he could be anywhere.”
Arthur but his lip to stop the tirade he wanted to shout at his knight, his loyal knight. “He needs a proper burial,” Arthur finally spoke quietly, grief choking his words. “He needs… he deserves a resting place. Something…”
“He was a sorcerer Arthur,” Leon said, shaking his head sadly. ”The law states-“
“I don’t care!” Arthur thundered before taking a deep breath. “And we don’t know that. We only have the accusations of a deranged knight and magic user. I will not condemn a man’s memory on unsolicited rumours.”
Leon shifted uneasily then not meeting Arthur’s eyes. Which was a red flag signal to Arthur, Leon never withheld information, especially from Arthur. “What Leon?” Arthur asked stepping forward towards the knight. “What is it?”
“I saw him Sire,” Leon spoke hesitantly, “when I found him, in the armoury. He… with his last breaths… it was definitely sorcery sire, there is no mistaking it.”
“What did he do?”
Leon hesitated again but reached into his belt pouch, his leather gloved hand held out before him towards his King. Upon his palm where eight stones, blue at first look but each swirling otherworldly and within each interlaced a different colour too indistinct and flighty to pinpoint but undeniable.
Arthur looked up in question to see Leon’s face pale but firm. “Merlin made them sire, from… he asked me to rip up his scarf, I thought he was going to use it to treat himself.”
“But he made stones?” Arthur asked in confusion looking back down at the swirling masses in Leon’s hand.
“Yes, I was going to ask Gaius what their purpose was but… things have been…”
“Yes,” Arthur replied distractedly, mesmerised by the swirling colours, before straightening and hardening his gaze. “We should go now.”
--
The door to the physician’s chamber bounced off the wall behind it as Arthur stormed in. But the rage and storm he had twisted himself up into slumped dramatically when he saw the elderly physician, the man he had known since he was a boy, looking older and more weary than he ever had, hunched at his table staring into space.
But at the cacophony of the King and Leon’s entry Gaius looked up, revealing wet glistening eyes on his drawn face.
“Gaius,” Arthur spoke clearing his throat.
“Sire?” Gaius frowned. “Is everything alright?” He began to push himself from the table but Arthur waved him down.
“No… everything’s… it’s fine Gaius,” Arthur mumbled waving Leon forward. “I’m sorry to trouble you at this time but we need your knowledge.”
Leon held out his hand wordlessly showing the ethereal stones still swirling in his palm. Arthur watched as Gaius’ face slackened in awe and he hovered an aging hand over the spheres.
“Leon discovered them,” Arthur spoke, watching the old man’s face carefully. “We believe sorcery was involved. Is that correct?”
“Yes sire. Powerful sorcery,” Gaius almost whispered still staring at the gems.
But Arthur’s jaw tightened, and his heart seethed and his vision blurred with anger as he pulled back his shoulders. “Merlin made them,” he spoke lowly into the room.
Gaius shook his head manically. “No sire-“
But Arthur’s mouth slackened in shock because he could see the lie behind the frantic denial.
“You’re lying,” he whispered in wonder stepping forward towards the aging physician. “Merlin was a sorcerer?”
It was barely conceivable, madness to even consider such a thing but it was there, staring him right in the face, sitting in Leon’s palm.
“He practiced magic?” he shouted into the silence as Gaius just watched him wide eyed, more tears pooling in his cloudy eyes.
“Sire,” the physician whispered into the throbbing tension of the room. “Does it matter?”
“Matter? Of course it matters!” Arthur raged all the emotions the grief the guilt the joy and fear of the last few hours raining down on him. “He… he’s lied to me! All this time. I trusted him and all the while-“
“All the while what Arthur?” Gaius snapped, his glistening eyes becoming hard. “All the while he worked tirelessly and unthanked in the background ensuring that you and all you held dear were safe. That is all he has ever done so if you are just here to besmirch the memory of my boy you can leave!”
Arthur and Gaius stared each other down, stormy eyes to stormy eyes. It was Leon who broke the strained silence, speaking quietly into the room.
“What are these,” the knight asked holding his hand still steady before him. “Merlin used his last breath to create them. What could be so important?”
Gaius looked down at the stones in Leon’s hand a fresh wash of grief on his face. “Oh my boy,” he whispered picking one form the pack and rolling it between his fingers. Arthur and Leon both held their breaths awaiting his word. “They are for protection,” Gaius spoke quietly and wetly after a moment, placing the stone back in Leon’s grasp. “No, that’s too simple. These are not merely protection charms; they are the embodiment of protection.
“They…” Gaius swallowed. “Merlin’s power was not something you can be taught, not something you can recreate in another and unsurpassed in competition. But he was quite happy to serve you Arthur, he believed in you even when you shut him out and ignored his sage advice. Each of these… they were made specifically for one other.”
“This one’s for you sire,” Gaius said lowly taking one stone and holding it reverently out to Arthur. “It holds just a fraction of Merlin’s innate power fed with his intent to protect you. It is a powerful and precious object… there is one here for your son as well.”
Arthur couldn’t hold back the tear that slipped down his cheek as all the tumultuous emotions surging through him collided. But when the stone was placed in his hand, even separated from his skin by his glove it… there wasn’t really a feeling that describe the feeling of safe, loved, protected, that washed over him, the exact feeling he would get but never admit to when Merlin shot him one of his proud smiles across the council room or camp fire.
“Mordred,” Arthur choked eventually swallowing down his tears, “Mordred called him Emrys?”
“And that is a long story sire,” Gaius replied tiredly sinking himself down onto the bench, his eyes drifting over to the closed wooden door at the back of the room.
Arthur thought of his new born son in the rooms above, his little hands and his little nose. He thought of his wife, knocked asleep in her sorrow and guilt in their chambers. He thought of his knights all wallowing in their own grief. And then he thought of his servant and his smiles and his wisdom and his cheer, the constant steadying presence and then thought about the body, cold and still that had lain on the cot just over there….
“I have time.”
Part Four