Performing One's Purpose--Part 4
Part 4.
“Merlin…” he said softly, drawing to a stop beside the warlock.
“Don’t try to stop me, Gwaine,” he bit out, continuing to saddle his horse. They had all left Arthur’s rooms late, and for the first time in weeks, Merlin had not stayed in Gwaine’s rooms, choosing to sleep in his old room in Gaius’s chambers.
“I wasn’t going to,” Gwaine retorted, setting his own pack down next to Merlin’s and walking to his horse’s stall, whistling softly. She came forward with a nicker, nosing at his hands and pockets for any hidden treats as he was prone to spoiling her now that they were here in Camelot.
Smirking, he gave her the slices of apple he had brought for her and set about pulling his tack down from the wall inside the stall, working quickly to get her ready for the ride. “You don’t have to come, you know,” Merlin said softly from two stalls down, as he made the last adjustments to her harness, checking the bridle and bit before stroking a hand over her nose, trying to comfort himself and the horse. Cyssan snorted softly into his shirt, sensing the tension in him.
“No, I don’t, but I am.” He looked up briefly over the walls of the stalls to catch Merlin’s gaze. “You’ll need help if she is there. Besides, who’s going to keep watch over you and protect you from the pheasants?” he joked, cracking a grin.
Merlin outright laughed at that, burying his face in Cyssan’s neck as his shoulders shook with mirth. Working quickly, Gwaine finished saddling his horse while Merlin got himself under control and caught his breath. As Merlin finally pulled away from his horse and started to guide her out, he was waylaid, Herestræl’s teeth clamping into the sleeve of his jacket, the horse eyeing him with as much disdain as Arthur on one of his bad days.
“Sorry, Herestræl, but you’re not coming with me today. You need to stay here and keep an eye on Arthur. Make sure he isn’t a prat to anyone, all right?” The horse whickered softly, nosing his chest in understanding, and retreated into his stall, head held high and alert as he waited for his master to come down for his daily visit.
Eventually, they were in the saddle and riding out at a slow walk. It was still early, the sun just creeping over the horizon and splashing vivid color over the sky. The city was just waking up and only the early risers bringing their goods in from the further villages and the guards at the northern gate saw them leave.
As the city fell away, they nudged their mounts into a slow canter, following the well-used trail that led towards the border and Cenred’s kingdom. They rode hard, keeping their mounts between an all-out gallop and a fast trot for brief periods of time, slowing them to a walk so they could catch their breath and rest.
Even then, night still crept up on them when they had traveled more than half the distance. “We should reach there by noon.” Merlin said, piling logs and tender together in a cleared space in the forest floor, ringed with stones. His eyes flashed and the fire sprang into life.
“Actually, maybe a little later than that,” Gwaine answered and Merlin looked up at him. “Arthur asked me to bring a message to the fort nearest Ealdor, so they can send word of Arthur’s plans for facing Morgana and send word out to the villages, asking for recruits. We’ll need all the help we can get.” As he finished, he looked knowingly at Merlin.
“I’ll do what I can, but even I can’t stop a whole army of sorcerers and Druids. I may have more power than them, but I’m still only half-trained.” Merlin warned him to keep from getting his hopes up.
“And yet, you were still able to take out an immortal army with one swing of a sword,” he joked. Merlin gave a mock glare, but said nothing. They ate in relative silence, seated next to each other, enjoying the company. Groaning, Gwaine stood. “I’ll take first watch.” Merlin nodded and watched him lean back against a nearby tree trunk, sword drawn and resting on his lap.
Getting up as well, he grabbed his bed roll, dragging in closer to Gwaine and lay down, listening to the cracking of the fire, the din of the nocturnal insects and Gwaine breathing, letting the sounds lull him into half doze.
He woke with a start as Gwaine shook his shoulder, calling his name. His heart was hammering and breath whistling through his nose as he kept his jaw clamped on the scream that wanted to escape. Swallowing it, he blinked, letting his surroundings filter in and calm him. It was just a dream, it hadn’t been real. “You okay?” Gwaine asked, crouched down next to him, concern painting his face.
“Yeah, just a bad dream.” He rubbed his eyes. The fire had died down some. Dawn was a few hours away.
“What was it about?” He asked as Merlin stood, shaking his limbs loose. Gwaine handed him the sword as he settled into his own bed roll.
“I…I don’t remember,” Merlin finally said, his brow furrowed as he thought about it. He had, for a second there when he had first awoken. Now, all that was left was a fleeting impression of fear and anger and that time was running out, like sand through his fingers. He felt like he’d been told something of extreme importance and needed to remember, but every time he tried, it slipped away, eluding him.
“That’s all right. It’ll come back when it’s needed, not before,” Gwaine said wisely, lying down on his side, pulling the blankets up to his shoulder. “Night,” he said softly. Merlin answered by running his fingers through Gwaine’s hair once before he leaned back, eyes adjusting to the darkness, ears trained for anything irregular in the nighttime sounds.
~*~
Predawn had just passed when they saddled up and continued their journey, using the weak light to guide their steps. Dew covered everything as they kept their horses to a walk, waiting until there was better light to see by before they went faster. Merlin was silent, his pensive gaze kept straight ahead, tension clear in the sharp pull on his shoulders.
By the time the sun had risen high enough in the sky to light the way better, the border fort was in sight. They maneuvered their horses down the slight incline of the trail as it went down a steep hill. In the distance, they could see the fort, the area around it cleared for about five hundred yards, allowing no cover for any enemy attacks.
The knights on duty at the fort hailed them, faces showing the worry and strain of those working to ready for a big battle. They didn’t even go inside, just sat on their mounts as Gwaine spoke quietly with the fort commander. A small scroll was exchanged, along with some more words and a nod of acknowledgement before Gwaine straightened and nodded to Merlin.
They set off at a light trot, following some less-used tracks. By the time they drew close to Ealdor, they were on something that looked more like a game trail than a way to his village. “I’m not using the main road. If she’s there or any of her troops, I don’t want her to see me. We’re taking a back route that…” he swallowed but kept on, “…that I found with my best friend Will when we were younger. It will take us to just behind my mother’s home.”
The trail only got smaller, and at the very end, they actually had to force their way through some underbrush. But it did indeed open up behind a small village. It was quiet, the insects droning softly in the heat of the afternoon. They were both instantly on alert as they drew their horses up, looking around.
If this had been a normal day, the villagers would be outside, tending the harvest, talking, gossiping, and cooking. It would be a busy little place with children running about underfoot and dogs scavenging scraps from compost heaps. Instead, it was deathly still, nothing moving about as if time had been frozen.
Tying the horses up, they crept forward, going to the closest house, the one next door to Merlin’s. Peeking in the window by pulling the shutters back an inch, he could see Henry Geraldson at their tiny wooden dining table. He was slumped forward, as if he had fallen asleep and no one had remembered to waken him. His wife Anne was slumped on the floor in the kitchen by the wall, the knife and carrot she had been holding on the floor, dropped and forgotten.
Gwaine came over to him from inspecting the next home over. “Everyone’s asleep, even the dog and cat. Knocked out. This has got to be magic.” Merlin nodded, looking at his home.
He could feel it, had felt it once before, so long ago. He and Gwaine would have to be careful, or else the spell would take hold of them, forcing them to sleep, unaware of anything around them. Shifting forward, he crept for his mother’s home, eyes and ears straining for any sound or sight of movement.
“Stay outside until I call you. She won’t be expecting anyone else besides Arthur. We can use that against her.” Gwaine nodded, drawing his sword. Merlin watched that with envy. He wished he could draw his own weapon, shroud himself in a cloak of his magic, but as far as he knew, Morgana was still ignorant of his magic. It would need to remain that way until he absolutely needed to give himself away.
Slowly, they crept around the house until Merlin was at the front door. Looking once back at Gwaine, they nodded and Merlin straightened. He gave a loud knock on the door. “Mother!” he called out, putting a small amount of worry in his voice. He pushed the door open.
“Ah, Merlin. I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, looking up from the table with a smile, setting her cup down as she stood. Merlin wasn’t looking at her though. His eyes were drawn to the paler woman seated next to his mother. Morgana shot an amused smirk at him. “Lady Morgana came by for a visit. We were just catching up.”
“Mother, get away from her,” he ground out, not taking his eyes off of the sorceress.
“Merlin, that’s no way to treat a-,” she started to admonish.
“Mother, trust me on this. Just get away from her.” He saw her nodding out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t look away.
“Now, Merlin, that’s no way to treat a friend.” Morgana chided, red lips drawn in a smirk. She was dressed in finely woven clothing, chainmail shining from underneath. The sword at her hip was sheathed, but it was nothing next to her magic.
“You are not my friend,” he bit back, thinking fast, trying to find a way out of the confrontation that this seemed to be barreling towards.
“Hm, true.” She stood with a slow grace. “Arthur thinks he’s so clever, finding out my plans. I let those two knights of his live so they could bring word to him. I wanted him to know. It would be no fun if he were to fall because he was caught unawares. I want to savor my revenge as I watch him die. You and all those others who fight in the name of their prince.”
“You won’t win, and even if you did, Camelot would still not accept you as queen, no matter whose blood runs through your veins.” He knew Gwaine was listening, waiting for Merlin’s signal.
“Queen? No, I don’t plan on becoming Camelot’s queen. Why would I want to be the ruler of such a ruined place? No. My plans are to raze it to the ground and start anew. I will build a new Camelot with my new army.”
“You plan to fight with half-trained warriors and sorcerers then?” he asked. “Camelot’s army would slaughter them.”
“Oh, Merlin. If only that were true. But my soldiers are not what you are thinking. They were not born with the ability to do magic. I found a way around that though. I found a way to let them use magic, for all of them to do magic. I gathered warriors and mercenaries from all over Albion. They will do just fine, I should say, against Arthur’s little gang of blue bloods.”
She took a menacing step forward. “But unfortunately, you will not be allowed to tell him this. I’m sorry, Merlin. I had hoped to spare you. You have been so misguided by my half-brother and our father. But it is too late now for you. The corruption has gone beyond repair.”
He could see the gold starting to shine in her eyes. He took a step back. “Gwaine!” he called.
The knight stood in the doorway, sword pointed at Morgana. “I would think twice about what you do. One thrust and you will be dead before you can even finish speaking your spell,” he warned her, eyes hard as he watched her every move.
“You would die as well,” she told him, glaring hatred at the two in front of her.
“Yes, but it would solve the problem of you leading your army into battle. And I’m sure many of the spells you used to create your soldiers would end with your death. So, chose your fight wisely, my lady.” He growled the last part.
She gave a sniff, but backed down. “Fine. I will see you on the battle field.” She turned to look at Merlin. “Watch your back, Merlin.” There was a swirl of wind, snatching at clothing and loose items in the house. The fire flared as the gale screeched in defiance at the walls confining it, and then it was gone.
Outside, the sound of people stirring had them sighing in relief. Sagging a little, Merlin felt his knees tremble, adrenalin pumping through his veins. They all took a moment to collect themselves. Finally, Merlin stirred. “Mother, you must come with us. It’s not safe here. She may come back,” he said.
“Merlin, I can’t.” Her eyes were full of sadness at the look her son sent her. “I know you feel that this is the right thing to do, but I can’t. This is my home and I will stay with it until the end. Besides, Ealdor is out of the way and we have been through wars before. We’ll be fine.”
She held her arms out and he walked into them, letting her wrap them around his back as she held him. Gwaine straightened, sheathing his sword as he looked around the place that Merlin had grown up in.
“So who is this?” Hunith said as they pulled apart.
“Um…this is Gwaine.” Merlin finally said, flushing a little as his mother looked between them. “He knows about my magic,” he said softly, smiling at Gwaine.
Hunith was still looking between them, understanding flaring in her eyes as she saw the smiles exchanged between them. “Oh, Merlin. It’s good you finally found someone.” Her words just made him turn an even darker red.
“Mother…” he hissed softly.
“All right, I won’t say anymore.” She turned to Gwaine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out a hand and he took it. “Do you two plan to stay long?” she asked when they had let go.
“We can’t. We need to get back to Arthur and tell him what we have learned.” He turned to his mother. “Since you won’t come with us, will you please hide in the cave I showed you all those years ago if any of Morgana’s soldiers show up? It’s large enough to take the others from the village that would go with you.”
“I will. Please be careful, both of you. You will send me word once this is over so I can know you are all right.”
“We’ll do one better and come and visit properly,” Gwaine assured her.
“Thank you. Give my greetings to Arthur and Gwen. Don’t worry about the villagers. I’ll tell them what happened and warn them about what’s to come.” Merlin nodded and kissed her on the cheek one last time before he left with Gwaine.
The horses were still where they left them, whickering softly as they caught sight of their riders. They mounted and rode along the edge of the village, towards the main road the led out of it. Once they were some distance away from the village, they spurred their mounts on. They still had some light left and wanted to get to the fort to give them the news before going on as far as they could before night stopped them.
~*~
The knights were already coming out, when they reined their horses in, having spotted them in the distance. Gwaine and merlin gave them a short run through of what they had learned. The knights would be prepared for the sorcerous warriors that were coming. They would spread the word and inform the villagers who wouldn’t be fighting to avoid them at all costs.
Soon, they were riding hard back south, towards Camelot. They still had a day’s journey to go when night fell, the light fading quickly. Cyssan danced around when they pulled up in a small little clearing next to a stream. “We can keep going on. I can provide light,” Merlin suggested as Gwaine dismounted.
Gwaine shook his head no. “I know you want to get there as fast as possible to warn Arthur. I do too, but our horses are tired and need to rest. We will get there much faster if they are fresh.” Merlin sighed, but got off his horse as well.
Neither slept well that night. Merlin dozed for a few hours before his dreams woke him up and faded from memory again. Gwaine was still awake, having taken the first watch, tense and alert, waiting for some form of magical attack.
“Gwaine, you should get some sleep.” Merlin said softly, rising to go sit next to him. They dared not start a fire in case they were being followed.
“Can’t,” he said simply, tracking the shadows as the moon slowly traveled overhead.
Sighing, he sat down next to him. “Neither can I.”
“Bad dreams again?” Gwaine asked, looking over at him.
“Yeah. Usually if I have dreams before something big, I can remember them. It’s like something is forcing me to forget.” He let his body tilt until they were pressed together down their sides. Gwaine shifted, lifting his arm up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer.
Merlin turned his head and moonlight flashed over Gwaine’s necklace. Gwaine lifted his hand up to it, feeling the flesh warmed gold and silver. “Lift up for a second.” Merlin complied and watched as he fiddled with something behind his head. When he pulled his hands back, the necklace came with him, flashing again.
“Gwaine…”
“This has been a good luck charm of sorts for me. I want you to have it,” he said, holding it out to him.
“Gwaine, I can’t. It’s your mother’s.” He shook his head.
“Yes, it was a courting gift from my father. When she gave it to me, she wanted me to use it the same way. I know I’m not the most virtuous person, but I want you to have it. So you’ll remember to come back to me once all this craziness has ended. Besides, you need all the luck you can get, Merlin. You have enemies out there who will come for you soon.”
Merlin, to his embarrassment, felt tears pricking his eyes. “I-,” he cleared his throat which had grown tight and gravely. “I accept,” he whispered and let Gwaine secure it around his neck. He pressed a kiss against Gwaine’s lips before he pulled away. “I’ll be there. When this war is finally over, I’ll be there, Gwaine.”
Gwaine just smiled and pulled him close again, the two staying up into the night as their horses dozed nearby.
~*~
The horses pulled up short with a clatter of hooves on cobblestones as they finally arrived back in Camelot. Stable hands came out, taking the flagging creatures away to be tended and left to rest. The two barely stopped to give their mounts one last pat before they were racing up the stairs for Arthur’s rooms where he was sure to be holed up going over strategies.
Neither knocked as they barged in. A few of the others were in there, talking with Arthur, bent over maps, colored stones and parchments with numbers scratched on them. The room had a tension in the air that wasn’t there when they had left. They all looked up as the two of them walked in.
Merlin took one look at Arthur’s pinched face and asked, “What’s happened?”
Arthur stood and dismissed the knights, leaving the three of them alone in the room. “My father has learned of what is happening. Though I had hoped to keep it from him long enough that he could do nothing to change our plans. He now insists that he will also lead the army as well.”
“And Gaius?”
“Physically, my father is still a fit man, though getting on in years. He…,” Arthur stopped for a moment, taking a breath, “he is not a stable man though. The last few months have shown that he is slowly losing himself. I do not feel he is fit enough to go into battle, let alone face a horde of sorcerers. The fact that it is Morgana leading them will just end up making him worse.”
“We can watch over him. Make sure he does nothing rash and protect him if…something should occur.” Gwaine said softly.
“I’ve done that already. Elyan, Percival and Leon will stay with my father. You and Lancelot will remain with me. Hopefully that will keep us alive long enough to win this battle.” He gave a sigh and settled into chair. “What news of your mother?” he asked Merlin.
Merlin shook his head. “She has decided to remain. I think it’s mainly to do with before. They’ve finally gotten their homes back and they will protect them to the last,” he said softly, looking away towards the window where the sun was just starting to set.
“There’s more.” Gwaine said when Merlin didn’t turn back. Arthur nodded for him to continue. “Morgana was there.”
“Speak.” Arthur’s full attention was focused on the knight. Gwaine spoke as quickly as he could, giving all the details he knew.
“I have left word among the forts. Word will spread and they will be prepared, but we must finish preparing as well. She will be here soon.”
Arthur nodded “We will be setting out either tomorrow or the day after, if things go as planned. Here, look.” They both followed him to the table to look at his map. “Here. We will meet her here. It is spacious enough for our horsemen and will keep her from getting to Camelot easily. The only mountain pass for miles will be behind us. This will either force her to a stop, or she will have to go around the mountains. Even at this time of year, they are treacherous and her army will be forced to go on foot since their horses will not be able to go over.”
“It looks good. It was clear when we passed through it the day before. Should Morgana’s forces hit the border before we are ready, the forts will send a messenger bird to warn us of it,” Gwaine said, peering at the map one last time.
“The rest will be discussing it in the war room. Go if you like. I’m sure they could use your knowledge of terrain and back roads.” Gwaine nodded. He saluted them both, fist to his chest, and bowed, cocky grin on his lips before he slipped out.
The room was silent as he left. Merlin, needing something to do while he thought, started to straighten Arthur’s rooms. It was only when Arthur’s hand on his arm stopped him that he realized what he was doing. “You don’t need to do that, Merlin. I’m sure you are tired and could use some sleep.”
Merlin turned with a wry grin. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” he said as he looked at Arthur.
But he wasn’t looking at Merlin. He was looking a little further down, near Merlin’s neck. He reached out a hand and Merlin followed it. It wasn’t until his fingers lifted up Gwaine’s necklace that he realized that it must have slipped out from underneath his shirt and neckerchief while he tidied up.
Merlin, his face flushing, looked away, waiting for Arthur to say something. “Hmm, this explains more than it confuses,” he mused aloud, and Merlin was forced to look at him in confusion at his cryptic words. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to bite your head off or something.” He let the necklace drop and walked over to look out the window. “I’m…happy for you two.” Now Arthur was flushing in embarrassment as he gave his blessing to their relationship. “But Merlin…” Arthur turned to look at him, “if he ever hurts you, he will wish for death once I am through with him.”
“Thank you, S-Arthur.” He smiled at the prince. “I need to go talk with Gaius about supplies. He walked towards the door. Stopping for a second with his hand on the door, he turned back to Arthur. “Oh, and my mother sends her regards and hopes that once things have calmed down, you might come for a visit.” Before Arthur could speak as he choked on his own tongue, Merlin was gone, slipping out the door, grin almost splitting his face in half.
~*~
Their breath steamed in the cool, predawn air. Dew coated everything and fog crept through trees and grass, slinking low to the ground and muffling the horses’ hooves as Camelot’s forces rode through the countryside. The roads and fields were empty of any life, humans and livestock long gone as they sought shelter in the citadel.
Arthur and Uther rode at the head of the train, resplendent in gleaming full armor and blazing crimson cloaks. Merlin wished dearly to be up there, to be able to protect Arthur. But he was stuck in the supply lines that trailed the knights and soldiers, guiding the cart of medical supplies as Gaius napped in the back, needing all the rest he could get before all hell broke loose.
He couldn’t say driving the cart was easy. The roads were damp from the light rain from the night before, the dirt churned up from the laden horses ahead and from past carts. Often, he and some of the other servants would have to dismount and ease the wheels of the cart out of a deep rut that had trapped it. By the time the sun started to sink, he was sweating and tired, his back and legs stiff from being seated on a hard wooden bench and from pushing the cart.
Gaius was awake by then, looking alert as they drew nearer to their campsite. The supplies would remain in this campsite as the army rode ahead in the morning to meet Morgana on the Tearian Plains just north of the mountain pass. Merlin and Gaius, along with the rest of the servants who had volunteered to come, would remain behind, to see to the wounded as they were brought in.
Merlin hated it and said as much to Gwaine that night as he helped the knight finish setting up his tent. He had been lucky; being one of Arthur’s personal guards had allowed him to have his own tent instead of sharing as the regular soldiers were forced to do.
“He wants to protect you and I agree with him,” Gwaine answered, face serious as he regarded Merlin from his kneeling position as he laid out their bedrolls.
“You of all people should know that I don’t need protecting.” Merlin started to pace, hunched over in the limited space of the tent that only allowed him to take two steps before he met canvas wall. “I need to be there. It is my duty to protect him.”
Gwaine sighed, but he seemed to accept Merlin’s words. “I know this, but Arthur doesn’t. You will just have to do what you always do.” Merlin looked up, confused by his words. “Ignore his orders and do what you feel is right.”
Merlin smiled down at him, stepping closer. “Thank you.”
Reaching up, Gwaine lifted the necklace from under Merlin’s shirt and brought it to his lips to kiss briefly. “Be careful and be safe. I still have a lot more courting to do if I am to woo you,” he joked and Merlin grinned, bending down to kiss his generous mouth before straightening.
“I have to go. Gaius will need my help setting his tent up. I’ll be back after dinner.” Gwaine gave his hand a squeeze and let him go.
~*~
The atmosphere during the evening meal was subdued, every man meditating on the coming battle of the morrow. The food was simple fare and even Arthur and Uther ate it, though they were given larger portions of it in their tent.
Merlin served them both, Uther’s manservant having chosen to stay behind. Both were tense, thoughts elsewhere as they picked at their meal. Silently, he refilled their goblets with water. He jerked a little when Arthur’s hand settled on his arm, but he stopped before the jug of water spilled. “Enough, Merlin. You may retire. My father and I still have some things to discuss.” Merlin nodded, setting the jug close enough for them to take. “Send Leon in,” he called after Merlin as he slipped from the central tent in the camp.
Fires burned everywhere, dotting the darkness like stars fallen to the earth. Leon wasn’t hard to find, seated with the rest of the knights as they talked amongst themselves, voices soft. He nodded as Merlin delivered his message, rising with a quiet “thank you”.
Nodding goodnight to Lancelot, Percival, and Elyan, he left, slipping into the darkened camp between fires. Gwaine’s tent wasn’t hard to find amongst the clusters of tents. A candle burned inside, silhouetting his form against the material of the tent.
As he slipped inside, he looked up from where he was untying his boots, still in his armor. Smiling, Merlin stepped forward and started to help him strip the metal pieces off. As the buckles came undone and he set the armor aside, he let his fingers linger on his hard, even lines, feeling the shift of muscle as he moved and bent to allow Merlin to get to the straps easier.
By the time they tugged his chainmail over his head and folded over the pile of armor, Merlin could already feel the lazy heat of arousal uncurling in his belly. Gwaine was watching him, eyes hooded as he was finally able to strip first one boot then the other off, chucking them to the side without care.
As he straightened, he stopped by the candle and blew it out, darkness descending around them in a soft embrace. The rustle of fabric sounded softly and then Gwaine’s heat was pressed all along his back and thighs.
Hard arms encircled his waist, pulled him back completely to feel the hardening arousal of the knight. Merlin could do nothing but submit, letting his head fall back onto his bare shoulder as he kissed a trail down his neck. Warm, calloused fingers wormed under his tunic, sliding along his stomach in a slow drag that made his muscles tremble in anticipation.
“Gwaine.” He sighed softly, turning to seek his mouth out.
“Shh.” Gwaine guided his mouth, palm brushing his jaw, thumb sweeping along his cheekbone. When their lips touched, he couldn’t stop the soft groan from escaping to be devoured in Gwaine’s mouth. He twisted around, Merlin’s arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders.
He could feel Gwaine’s hands sliding lower to knead his arse, digging into the giving flesh and pulling him even closer, grinding their hips together in a slow circling grating motion that had him clutching desperately at Gwaine’s shoulders as his knees started to turn to water.
“Gwaine, please,” he begged softly. Tomorrow, they would go to war and who knew what awaited them. He just wanted one more night of Gwaine, of them together, just in case…
“Stop thinking, Merlin. Forget about tomorrow. Just feel.” He took a step back, guiding Merlin forward, slowly lowering them to their combined bedrolls, angling them until Merlin lay stretched out on top of him, straddling his hips.
They kissed slowly, Gwaine drawing him out, coaxing him on, letting the give and take sooth his jittery nerves and worries. By the time they drew apart, Merlin’s neckerchief was lying somewhere in the tent along with his shirt.
Gwaine flipped them and his dexterous fingers worked at Merlin’s laces, unknotting them and sliding his breeches and smalls down, hands stroking down his hips, thighs, calves, and feet, setting them to the side with the rest of his clothing. He quickly divested himself of his own pants and Merlin had to bite his fist to keep from moaning aloud as Gwaine slid over him, skin slick with sweat from the heat of the camp fires.
“Merlin…” he called softly, drawing the warlock’s attention. “Where…” Merlin didn’t even let him finish before his eyes flashed gold and a small vial floated over from the inside pocket of his pack. It landed softly in Gwaine’s outstretched hand.
“Did I ever tell you how much I love your magic?” he joked, uncorking the vial to coat his fingers. Merlin just glared up at him with a dazed look on his face, trying to make Gwaine go faster. Complying with his wishes, Gwaine set the vial aside and trailed a finger down his leaking cock, grazing over his sensitive balls to rest solidly against his anus, the muscles twitching in anticipation as the nerves there flared to life.
“Gwaine-oh.” Merlin grunted as Gwaine pushed one finger in smoothly aided by the oil. He shifted, bringing his knees up and spreading his legs wider to give Gwaine better access. “More, please.”
Gwaine ignored him, working the single finger thoroughly inside Merlin, loosening him up, before even adding a second finger. Merlin groaned low in his throat as the second one penetrated him, and hissed softly when the third was added soon after. Gwaine tried to soothe him, brushing his free hand down over his stomach while kissing his inner thigh lightly and soon Merlin relaxed around his fingers.
Gwaine worked quickly; loosening him while he searched for the spot he knew would have Merlin trembling. When Merlin gave a soft gasp as his hips arched up and down on his fingers, Gwaine knew he’d found it. Hitting it a couple more times, he finally pulled out, Merlin’s hips following before he stilled him with a hand on his hip.
Picking up the vial, he slicked his own engorged flesh with a soft hiss, fighting the impulse to work himself until he reached his peak. He could see the gleam of Merlin’s eyes on him as light leaked in from the nearby campfire, watching him, waiting for him. That alone had him pushing forward, his arousal spiking at the thought that Merlin lay there, aroused and pliant, just for him.
Gwaine pressed the head of his cock to his loose hole and waited. Merlin’s thighs spread even wider, legs wrapping around his waist as his hands glided over his shoulders, tugging him forward. Gwaine sunk into his heat with a strangled groan, hand clutching at his hip and the bedroll below in a near death-grip as he kept himself slow.
It was hard to though, when Merlin was making soft mewling sounds as his arse muscles clenched around him, drawing him in. Finally though, he was seated in completely, Merlin’s arse flush with his lap. Pulling back until only the head of his cock remained inside, he pushed back in just as slowly, driving the warlock below him insane, making him writhe under him.
It would never have lasted, no matter how they might have wished to draw it out. When Merlin came, it was with a half-sob as heat spread between them, his muscles clenching unbearably tight around him, and Gwaine muffled a groan into his sweaty shoulder as he pounded into his tight heat and came, emptying himself inside of him.
They both lay silently, breathing each other’s air as they came down from their high. Sliding down to lie beside Merlin, Gwaine reached blindly behind him for something to clean them up. He found his own shirt and pulled it over, wiping them down before he chucked it away again.
Merlin murmured contentedly, crawling closer, wrapping himself along Gwaine’s side. His eyes flashed and the blanket slid up over them. His smile was soft and full of love as he looked up at Gwaine. Smiling back, Gwaine pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting sleep drag him under as Merlin lay with his head nestled on his shoulder beneath his chin.
~*~
“Merlin.” He jerked from his trance-like state, looking around for the voice. Gwaine grumbled in his sleep, pulling him closer. “Merlin!”
Blinking owlishly, he finally recognized the owner of the voice. “Kilgharrah?”
“Yes, young warlock. It is time. You must come to me.” An image appeared in his head: the mouth of a cave and directions on how to get there. “You must hurry, warlock. There is not much time and dawn approaches.” With that, his presence faded from his mind.
Easing himself gently from Gwaine’s embrace, he quickly went about dressing, pulling on his clothing from the night before. For the life of him, he couldn’t find his neckerchief. Sighing, he shrugged and pulled his boots on. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to Gwaine’s lips and slipped out.
All was quiet; the quiet before the storm. Most of the fires had burned low, only the sentry fires blazing an irregular pattern around their camp. Even the central tent where Arthur and Uther slept was dark, the two generals getting the sleep needed for tomorrow’s harrowing battle. Cyssan whickered softly as he saddled her, slipping the bridle over her head with familiar ease in the dark.
A whispered spell and he was gone from the camp, following a moonlit trail into the mountains. The trail was faint, barely a game track, and the path weaving through the trees and around boulders as they climbed higher.
The moon was just starting its descent towards the horizon when they topped the track and stood before the cave mouth. Conjuring a ball of light, he dismounted, leading Cyssan into the opening. He could make out supplies that had been stored in the cave, although they were almost decayed beyond recognition. Prepared torches were rotting in the back, and clay bowls and jugs lay broken on the ground, worn away by time and the elements. The smell of animals lingered in the air, but it was faint. Nothing had lived here for some time.
Unsaddling Cyssan, he left the horse to her own devices, walking with sure steps to the back of the cave where a concealing glamor still held even after all these years. He still had to close his eyes as he took a step through, mind unwilling to believe that the stone wall wasn’t real. When he opened them again, he found himself in a musty, damp tunnel that led down, deeper into the mountains.
A damp draft flowed over him from deeper into the tunnel, bringing with it more moisture and the sound of dripping water on rock. As he followed the tunnel further down, the sound grew nearer, as did the flow of air and the smell. It was only as he drew near the end of the tunnel that a new smell permeated the air: the smell of magic. Great magics had been worked down here, large enough that traces of it still lingered in the stone years later.
He trod cautiously as he took the last few steps into the cavern, his steps echoing hollowly around him. There, seated in the center, like he’d seen him so many times in the past in another cave, was the dragon.
He looked different, more aged, though how, Merlin couldn’t have pointed out. As he shifted, his wings fanned out, stirring the air and sending a other draft of the magic laden air around him.
“Kilgharrah,”Merline finally said, the name echoing and fading quickly into the darkness beyond.
~*~
As dawn approached, the sound of the camp rousing woke him from his slumber. The cot next to his was empty; Uther had already risen. Sighing heavily, he rolled, letting the motion carry him to his feet. The cool morning air was made him shiver, skin prickling to the dramatic change in temperature. Outside, shouts rose as more people stirred and readied for battle.
Changing quickly, he sat at their table and started to pick at his food, not really hungry, but knowing he needed at least something to be able to function today. His head jerked up as the tent flaps billowed open and Gwaine walked in, looking harried and slightly worried.
“Gwaine.” He nodded in acknowledgement as the knight came to a halt in front of his table. He motioned towards the unoccupied seat across from him, and Gwaine nodded and took it. “What can I do for you?” he asked, taking another cautious bite of his food.
“I was wondering if you’ve seen Merlin,” Gwaine finally asked after a moment’s hesitation.
“Hmm, not since last night when I sent him off to bed.” ‘Your bed, if I’m not mistaken.’ The thought flowed through his mind, but he didn’t say it or let it show on his face. “Why?”
“It’s just that,” Gwaine sighed, running a hand through his hair in a distracted manner, “I’m probably just being a worrywart.”
Deciding to cut his knight some slack, he let a small smile creep onto his face. “Gwaine, I know.” The knight looked confused. Sighing, he elaborated, “about you and Merlin.”
A look of worry started to cross Gwaine’s face and he opened and closed his mouth for a moment before trying to talk. Arthur held his hand up to silence him. “I have already given my blessing to your relationship.” At this, Gwaine relaxed a little, no longer looking like a fish out of water. “But, if you do anything to hurt him, you will answer to me.” The knight nodded, expression serious.
“I swear, I will never do anything to harm him.” Arthur nodded in acceptance of his oath and Gwaine stood. As he rose, Arthur noticed the red cloth tied around his belt, the material slightly faded from its original crimson red to a softer hue: Merlin’s neckerchief. It made something in his chest loosen as the realization of what the two meant to each other showed through the gifts exchanged.
“I’m sure he is somewhere in the camp, checking on supplies. He will turn up. There is no need to worry.” Arthur knew for a fact that Merlin always turned up, no matter the odds.
Saluting his prince, Gwaine left, the tent flaps fluttering closed behind him. Squaring his shoulders, Arthur dug in with more purpose, readying himself for the day.
~*~
Merlin didn’t know what to make of the look of sadness on the dragon’s mobile features. It sent up alarms though, making him wary of what the dragon needed him for. Kilgharrah’s next words sent him into a panic. “It is time, young warlock. Time to face your true destiny.”
Something in him urged him to run, to get away from the cave, but when he turned around, the tunnel was gone. It was not a glamor but solid stone, rough and seemless as he ran frantic hands over it. Anger boiled under his skin and he spun, sending an accusing glare at Kilgharrah. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I am sorry, young warlock. There is so much you do not know. So much that depends on you and yet not you. It is time you learned the true meaning of your birth.” His heart gave a stutter.
“My birth? What do you mean ‘the true meaning’? What the hell are you talking about?”
.:He means the true reason you were created.:. A voice echoed hollowly in his head, full of power. He gave a hoarse cry as heat surged inside him, and then a flash of light blinded his eyes as he fell back against the wall, sliding down to clutch at his head as the world started to spin dizzyingly.
As he finally got himself under control, he looked up and blanched at the figure standing before him. It was humanoid in shape, but its form was constantly shifting, the glowing light it was made of swirling and twisting until he had to look away or be sick. “Who…,” he swallowed heavily, “who are you?”
.:It will come to you.:. it answered, light shifting to give it human features so that it could talk easier and now, its voice not only echoed in his head, but through the cavern and making Merlin’s ears and head throb. A sense of déjà vu was creeping over him as he stared longer at the creature, a nagging sense that they had met once before.
It shifted, hand moving slowly to point at its side, and a memory popped to the forefront of his mind: the feeling of hands, from two different moments, brushing his side, one giving pain, and the other pleasure. His hand rose to mimic the creature and as his hand touched his side, a name echoed through his head, along with a flood of forgotten memories. “Emrys,” he choked out through a tight throat as he relived his panic from only a few months prior.
~*~
“Arthur.” He looked up as Gwaine barged in again. The servant helping him into his armor finished the last strap and Arthur dismissed him, waiting for the man to leave before he let Gwaine continue.
“What is it?” He picked up his sword and buckled it on.
“I can’t find him.” He looked up at the worried note in the knight’s voice. Gwaine went on, “I’ve looked throughout the camp, asked people. No one has seen him since last night. Not even Gaius, who was expecting Merlin to come help him with sorting their supplies. And Arthur,” he paused, looking his prince in the eye, “his horse is gone.”
Arthur’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “That is no reason to worry. There could be dozens of reasons why he is not in camp. He could have…”
Gwaine cut him off. “You know as well as I do what Morgana is like. She could have taken him.” He was pacing now, shoulders a tense line of muscle as his worry mounted. “If he was taken, we’ve no hope. She’ll find out he’s-,” he never finished his sentence.
“No.” Arthur cut in smoothly, stopping his last few words. Gwaine looked at him puzzled. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “I know that there are some…things that Merlin has not told me yet.”
“You know,” he accused the prince.
“Only a working theory.” He amended, “I know that he has secrets that can be dangerous to him and others, but I want him to tell me himself. Until then, you will not breathe another word of why it would be a very bad idea if Morgana got her hands on him.”
“I…understand, but that still does not help us fix the current problem of his whereabouts,” Gwaine told his prince, starting his pacing again.
“There is nothing to be done.” Gwaine stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look incredulously at Arthur. “I know that you are worried, as am I, but I need you here and now. I can’t have you distracted by worry. That will only get you and others killed. Can I count on you to put your worry aside or do I have to leave you here?” Arthur asked, the king in him shining through in that moment.
“No, sire. I will do my duty, as I swore on the day you knighted me,” Gwaine finally bit out, features smoothing.
Arthur nodded and let his expression soften into a look of sympathy. “I understand what you are going through. But I have known Merlin longer than you have and I can tell you one definite thing: He will show up. He always does, no matter the odds.”
~*~
.:Yes, young one. It is I.:. The being nodded at him.
“I…I don’t understand,” he finally said as silence fell between the three of them.
.:That is understandable. It is too much to tell with accuracy and detail. I will show you instead, how all this began.:. He flinched at another flash of light, and when he opened his eyes he was still in the cave.
Except he was floating, swathed in shadow as he stared down where they had once stood. As he watched, light flickered in the tunnel he had entered through and a man stepped forward, dark cloak billowing around him as another draft blew through the cave and the flames on his torch flickered, casting shadows along the wall. It took him a moment to realize who he was seeing and he could only stare paralyzed as his father, Balinor, the Dragonlord, stepped forward into the cave.
“Dragon!” his voice echoed and rebounded, repeating again and again until the last echoes faded back into silence again. The silence was soon shattered though as something large pressed down against the air, forcing it down with each large wing stroke, raising a wind in the recently still cavern.
Balinor stared up as Kilgharrah flew down to meet the Dragonlord. Merlin stared in wonder at this younger version of his father. At this time, he had no beard, and though his face was drawn in worry, it was not creased with the lines of age and grief that would soon adorn it.
“What news, Dragonlord?”Kilgharrah asked, voice booming in the silence, echoing off the walls of stone that encased them.
“It was as was predicted. Uther made a pact with Nimueh for an heir. Ygraine will die in childbirth in a week’s time.” Merlin started at the mention of Arthur’s mother.
“Ahh, then the Seer was right.” The scaled creature’s demeanor changed, seeming to droop under a heavy burden. “This price for an uncertain future seems to be too much.”
“I am sorry. There was nothing I can do.”
“It was not your fault, my friend. We all have our time, even I. We must prepare for the future. The Seer said that Uther’s son was the one who would bring about the golden age, but the future can be changed so easily. We must create a failsafe so that it will happen.”
“You can’t mean…”
“Yes, Dragonlord, it was time. We have a week until the end of such peaceful times. There is no more time to be indecisive. We must act now.” Kilgharrah straightened, looking down at his father.
Balinor nodded, looking resigned. “You are right. Tell me what I must do.”
“There is a ritual, to summon the Old One, the one who came before the first dawn and will only leave upon the last sunset. He is the only one who can help us now. He is the only one that fate will listen to.”
Balinor stepped forward and from where Merlin floated, he could see the weariness of the burden of his knowledge. This was the moment when the lines had started to form on his face, lines of grief and desolation. “I have heard of such a ritual, but never performed it. It is said to require a tremendous amount of magic. And even then, once we summon him, we still need a vessel for him to reside in.”
“That is true. And he will have one. We will only perform the first half of the ritual, the one that will summon him. He is not needed now, not yet.”The dragon lowered his head closer to his friend.
“There is a way to create a vessel for him. You will become a temporary vessel, to carry him. You must impregnate a woman, and as the child forms in her body, so shall he bind himself to the child. The child, when born, will have no soul with which to fight him off, and he shall have a human body until he has no need of it.” Merlin’s ears were buzzing and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the words that had condemned him.
“Are you sure this will work? There is too much at stake, and should it go wrong, there will be nothing to guarantee that Uther’s child will live long enough to complete his destiny.” Balinor was pacing now, running agitated hands through his longish hair.
“There is little choice. We must act now before it is too late.” The dragon stood, stretching out his wings. “It will take me time to gather enough magic to summon him. Return here the day of the prince’s birth. I will be ready by then.” With a mighty flap of his wings, Kilgharrah was gone, flying away into the shadowed vaulting ceiling of the cave.
There was a moment of disorienting blackness as the scene changed, and then the two were back, the room full of burning candles, incense smoke cloying the air and diffusing the glow of the candlelight. It must have been the end of the ritual, for their voices rose as one booming voice, distorted beyond understanding and the candles flared and went out.
In the darkness, a new light appeared, just a small speck that steadily grew, branching out until the form of Emrys stood in their midst, emanating irritation. .:Why have I been summoned from Avalon?:. His voice boomed out, echoing around them and causing dust and debris to rain down on them.
“We summoned you for a cause, Old One. The balance is soon to be threatened. Uther’s wife will die in childbirth this night, sacrificed with unsuspecting magic to give the king a son. The Seer has foretold a time of great suffering and death as Uther takes his grief and anger out on the magic he thought he could control. His son will be the one to right this, but he will need protection from those who will wish to kill him for his father’s deeds. Until he is made king and restores magic to its rightful place, fate will be uncertain. We ask that you accept a human body so that you may guide fate and allow the boy to complete his destiny.”
.:I will require a vessel if I am to remain in this realm.:.
“I will act as temporary vessel until the time is right for you to bind with your true vessel.” Balinor stepped forward, staring in awe at the great being that stood before him.
.:An unborn child.:. he said aloud, reading the Dragonlord’s thoughts.
“Yes. I will impregnate a woman to carry the vessel.”
.:The bargain is struck.:. He flared brightly and flowed through the air to disappear into Balinor’s body. For a second, Balinor stood frozen, unsure what to do, and then he moved, letting out a breath that he must have been holding in.
The cave faded to black again and then Merlin was back in his own body, huddled on the floor, sobbing for breath as hot tears rolled down his face. “That…that can’t be right. Balinor, my father, would not have done that. He would not have done that to my mother.”
.:It is the truth, young one. You were created to become my vessel. Only, something went wrong in the moment I bonded myself to your human body. My magic was sapped and I was too weak to fight the soul growing inside you as you grew in your mother’s body. In a last effort to protect your body and myself, I created a barrier between us, so that I would not kill you. I have waited all this time for my magic to become strong enough. That time is now, when I am most needed.:.
Merlin struggled back to his feet, shaking and glaring at the two. “What happens to me?” he demanded, pressing against the wall of the cave. “What about what I want?”
For a second, the look of anguish on Emrys’s face stopped his breath, and then realization dawned on him. “No,” he croaked out, throat tight. “No…I won’t…I REFUSE!” he yelled at them.
.:You have no choice in the matter. It has already begun.:. Emrys replied somberly. Merlin shook his head again. .:You were never meant to be, Merlin. Your soul was never meant to grow and yet it did. You are a mishap of magic and fate, created with borrowed magic and time. But your time has run its course; the magic sustaining your soul is running out. I’m sure you have noticed? The lapses in time, strange points of your day that you cannot remember and account for. You are fading and you cannot stop it.:.
Merlin sank slowly to his knees, hands shaking as his thought went back to those moments, trying to place when they first started to happen. The link sprang up, so obvious now that he saw it from a new angle. “You, you’re the reason this is happening. This only started to happen after you saved me from the Attor’s venom. It only started when I allowed you to take control.”
.:There have been moments when I have emerged before. When the magic you required went beyond what you had and thus forced me to surface. But yes, that point was when it truly started. The moment you crossed the barrier. A weakness was created in the barrier that has only grown bigger as time passed.:. At his words, the barrier formed between them and he could see it, the hole that had taken shape in the middle of it, edges glowing bright gold.
“I…I don’t want to die. There’s so much I wanted to do, have yet to do.” He could feel his eyes growing wet and didn’t care, letting the tears flow. “I never told Arthur. Told him about my magic.” More tears flowed as he realized something. “Gwaine, he’ll never know what happened, my mother, Gaius, Arthur. They’ll never know what happened to me.”
He jumped as golden hands shoved something before him. .:If you wish, you may write a final letter to them. I will deliver it to them, so that they may know of the bravery and strength you showed in doing this.:.
He took the parchment, ink, and quill from the being and turned away. The next twenty minutes were silent as he wrote to those he loved the most and who would grieve for him when he was gone. Finished, he sealed them up and set them aside.
Squaring his shoulders, he turned to face them, eyes red but dry. “So what happens now? How long do I have?”
.:It is up to you, young one, when you choose to end this.:.
He was silent as he thought. Finally, he looked back at Emrys. “Do you swear to protect Arthur?” he finally asked. Emrys nodded. “Will it hurt?” He asked in a small voice.
.:I do not know. This has never happened before. I hope it will not. Do not worry, though, for you will be going to Avalon, where I believe someone has been waiting to see you again.:.
“Freya?” he asked and Emrys nodded again. Sucking in a steadying breath, Merlin straightened. “I’m ready.”
There was a sound like fabric tearing, and then his heart began to burn, a fire inside him eating away from the inside out. He let out a pained gasp as it crawled slowly along his veins and nerves, leaving fire and agony in its wake. He was dying, disappearing and there wasn’t anything he could do. He fought though, his self-preservation instincts kicking in as he fought to hold onto life. It was useless though. Emrys’s power was too much to fight. He was like a pale flickering candle flame to the forest fire that was Emrys.
For a second he looked up and saw not Emrys, but Kilgharrah, his eyes weary and full of sorrow. ‘With your last breath, I will follow you, my kin. I will follow the last Dragonlord to Avalon where someday, I hope to gain penance for my deeds in this. You will not be alone in this, young warlock.’
His voice faded out as the sound of flames crackled in his head, consuming him. With his last breath, he choked out one word, “Gwaine.” Then darkness swamped him and he was no more.
~*~
The cave was silent as Emrys stood, flexing the muscles in his new body. Merlin was gone, his soul consumed by the inferno that was Emrys’s magic. On the cave floor laid Kilgharrah, his chest still, his life force gone.
Looking sadly at the once-great dragon, he bent to pick up the letters that Merlin had written. He had one last promise to keep before he could complete his purpose, the reason he had been summoned here. Giving the cave one last sad look, he was gone in a flash of light.
Part 5