Performing One's Purpose--Part 5
Part 5.
Arthur stared at the force spread out before them. Morgana had been busy since they had last seen her. But unlike his army, hers were a pale comparison. Many were village men; raised to farm, and not fight. Most held crude weapons, and few even had armor. He knew they didn’t need it though. With magic on their side, any untrained farmer could kill a dozen knights with one word.
There was a ripple of unease through his ranks as Morgana rode to the forefront of her army, his men recognizing her and remembering the reign of terror she had held briefly over them. Arthur stared impassively at her, Uther next to him as their guards held position around them.
Glancing to the side, he watched Uther; waiting for some reaction to the woman he had loved as a daughter, who was his daughter. Uther held himself erect, face a blank mask as he stared at Morgana, but Arthur could see it, lurking in his eyes: pain for her betrayal, anger for what she was, and the insanity that both had created in him, lurking just beneath the surface.
Turning away, he faced back forward, keeping his half-sister in sight. “So noble of you, Arthur,” her voice whispered in his mind, dripping with sarcasm like poison, leaving a taint behind when she withdrew.
~*~
As the tide of bodies lulled for a moment, he took a quick breath, surveying the battle. Uther was some yards behind him, surrounded by Percival, Elyan, and Leon, the three keeping his father alive as he fought.
He had been right about the fighting skills of Morgana’s men. They could barely hold their sword, let alone fight with them, and yet, his men kept falling just as much as the enemy did, brought down by spell after spell. Some had attacked at the very beginning with fire. Now, patches of field burned, filling the sky with black roiling smoke that choked lungs and made eyes water.
He wasn’t sure how the battle had started now. It was just a mass of bodies killing and being killed, moving in an ever flowing cycle around him. Gwaine and Lancelot stood at his back, the three of them holding their own.
Morgana had disappeared into the thick of the chaos and had yet to make an appearance, though he knew she still lived from the explosions that rose above the noise around them. And still he fought; sweat dripping into his eyes, muscles burning as lungs struggled for much-needed air in the smoke-filled battleground.
Lunging forward, he brought down another sorcerer before he could speak the spell meant for one of them. Pulling his sword from the body, he looked up and was met by poisonous blue eyes. Her red lips twisted into a cruel parody of a smile as she raised her hand, lips shaping the words to end his life.
For a second the world slowed as he watched her, waiting for her to strike. He blinked…and someone was standing in front of him, their dark blue cloak flowing in the breeze. He could still see Morgana, her eyes going wide as the spell was released from her hand and struck the man in the chest.
Tendrils of black energy seemed to crawl over his body, and then they faded, absorbed into his body. She took a step back, fear registering in her eyes as the man took a step forward. His hand raise and a gale of wind roared into life, screaming its anger as it blew both smoke and people away, sending all the combatants to the ground.
A hush fell over the battle field as others took notice of this new enemy. “Emrys,” someone whispered fervently, and the word spread among the Druids who fought with Morgana. Those who understood the word dropped to their knees, staring up in awe at this man who stood amongst them.
“Who-,” Morgana started in fury.
Emrys lifted his hand and her words were cut off, her voice stopped. “Silence. You willingly chose your path. You have no say in this.” The voice was deep, echoing with power that crackled through the air around him, like the moment before the storm.
Someone yelled, and then one of Arthur’s knights ran forward, brandishing his sword, taking a swing at the man. He ducked, leaning backwards as the sword went over his head. Something metal swung up from his neck, catching the light just as the sword passed over him. It caught on the sword, the chain broke.
There was a second where it held suspended in the air, and then it fell to the ground, landing at Arthur’s feet in the churned earth. A flash of light momentarily blinded them and when he looked up, blinking spots away, the knight was gone, and a charred patch on the earth was all that remained.
With a feeling of dread, he looked down, fearing the knowledge of what had fallen could mean. Still, he looked and something inside knotted horribly as he took in the silver pendent and golden ring that lay winking up at him from the dark soil. An image of the neck that these had hung from appeared in his eye.
With a sickening feeling of dread, Arthur forced himself to look up and see the truth in front of him. The man started to stand, his hood knocked back, revealing pale skin, soot-black locks and blazing golden eyes. Merlin stared back, face devoid of any emotion. There was a choked noise behind him as Gwaine saw his lover standing there in full view of Uther and Morgana.
Morgana gave a chocked cough as she tried to speak around the spell still on her. Her eyes bulged a little in surprise at the sight of Merlin in front of her, magic on full display for all to see. There would be no going back for him, even if they beat Morgana today. His father would see to that.
“Merlin?” Lancelot finally spoke up; voice heavy with sorrow at the decision Merlin had been forced into.
He turned, facing the three of them and the look of such sorrow on his face threw him for a moment. What had happened? He shook his head, “I’m…sorry. I am not Merlin. At least, not anymore.”
“What are you talking about, of course you’re Merlin,” Gwaine insisted, pushing forward closer to his lover.
“I am Emrys. I was summoned by Balinor and Kilgharrah, the last dragon, to bring this conflict to an end; to right the balance. Merlin…was my vessel, the human body to hold me in this world until such a time that I was needed. Do not hate him. He did not know until recently as I have been dormant all his life.”
There was silence as those closest listened to this being of magic. “And Merlin?” Gwaine choked out, his grip on his sword shaking, the knuckles white with the force of his grip.
Sorrowful eyes looked back at the knight and gave all the confirmation needed, though he still answered him, “I’m sorry. He has gone to Avalon.”
There was a shout from behind them, and all three turned to see Uther striding over, face livid with rage. “You! A sorcerer all this time. Arthur, kill him, before he can do any more damage to our kingdom.”
Emrys turned, eyes blazing brighter as he faced Uther, shoulders straightening and his jaw firming in preparation for the oncoming conflict. “Uther Pendragon!” His voice boomed; people and horses shouting in fright as it rolled like thunder through the two armies. “I stand here your accuser and judge for the crimes you have committed in the name of your so-call righteous purge. Will you face these accusations?”
“And by what right do you have this power?” Uther growled out; face red and eyes burning embers of hatred.
“By right of the office of High Priest of the Old Religion, won by trial by combat to the death with the last High Priestess Nimueh,” he rumbled again, power crackling around him as a breeze fingered the blue material on his thin shoulders.
Uther visibly paled at his words, mouth opening but no noise coming out. Finally he got himself under control, “You couldn’t have?”
“I have done so in repayment for her meddling in the balance of the old religion when she tried to cheat me by taking Merlin’s mother’s life instead of my own to save your own blood relation.” At this, he looked at Arthur, Uther following his gaze. “She had grown bitter and angry; her judgment biased, and was thus unfit to wear the robes of office. Now will you stand trial?”
To everyone’s surprise, he nodded, still pale. “As is your right, any who wish to defend you may come forth to speak.” He paused to wait for any to step forward. None did. Nodding, he continued, “There is one who has waited for this moment to speak for you. She has waited a long time.”
Uther’s eyes grew large as Emrys stood back and a door of light appeared next to him. Turning to it, he held out a hand, as if helping a lady down some steps. A pale hand appeared first, followed by the rest of her, until at last, Ygraine Pendragon stood amongst them. “My lady, be aware that your time here is limited.”
“Thank you, Emrys. I know. This will not take long.” He let her hand go and she took a step forward. She smiled at her husband. “My dear, Uther.” She seemed to glow with love.
“This is trickery. Some sort of illusion or glamor to trick me,” he said; panic clear as he looked between Emrys and Ygraine.
“There are no lies or tricks in a trial. All is truth, seen through clear eyes. She has expressed a desire to speak for you and to you. Let her speak, for her time here is short.” She smiled at Emrys and looked back at her husband.
“He speaks the truth, Uther. I am real. There is so much to say. I understand why you acted so, after my death. You blamed yourself and magic for my death. There are facts that you do not know. Nimueh came to me, a week before Arthur was born, and told me of a prophecy, of the great destiny that awaited our son. She told me to stop this, that it would be my death and of hundreds of others. I was selfish, I know, but I so wanted our son. I knew he would be such a great king. I took the risk and hoped that you would not do what you did.”
She turned to Emrys. “Old One, my husband is not the one to blame here. He reacted out of grief and anguish against something that he couldn’t control. He didn’t know of my choice or my selfishness. If anything, I am to blame. I just wanted a child so badly that I willingly condemned others to death. Please, punish me in his stead.”
“Are there any who would object to Lady Ygraine’s confession?”
“NO!” Uther yelled out, striding forward. “You will not do this, my love.” He wrapped himself around her, drawing her close as he shook. They continued to speak, but none could hear as they conversed softly.
Finally, they pulled apart reluctantly; Uther looking resigned, but prepared for the worst. “I willingly place myself at your mercy to spare my wife. I await my punishment,” he bit out, glaring at Emrys.
“So be it. Upon your last breath, you will be exiled from Avalon, kept from your wife and eternal rest for the same length of time as your Purge lasted. In that time, you will be approached by each sorcerer you ever killed, directly or indirectly. Your task will be to get forgiveness from just one of them. If you are able to accomplish this, you may enter Avalon. If you are unable to do so, than you will never be allowed in and will wander the void between for all eternity.”
A soft breeze flowed through the field, bringing the scent of growing things with them. Ygraine embraced Uther one last time, bestowing a kiss on him before walking back over to Emrys. She stopped before Arthur. “My son.”
“Mother,” he choked out.
“I know that we have so little time, but I want you to know that I love you. Have and always will love you. I am so proud of you and know you will become the king you are meant to be.” She leaned forward to wrap her arms around him. Arthur returned the embrace, inhaling her scent and imprinting it to memory. She pulled back a little. “Do not hate Emrys. His hands were tied the moment he was summoned and he could not have stopped what has happened any more than Merlin could have.”
“My lady, it is time.” She pulled away and walked over to Emrys.
“I’m so sorry, Emrys,” she whispered hoarsely.
“It is not your fault. This was foretold long before now and was always meant to happen.”
“I will see you soon.” She cupped his cheek and smiled sadly up at him. Taking her hand from his face, he helped her back into the doorway of light, and then it was gone, the world a little darker now.
“My purpose has been fulfilled and I declare this war at an end. By right as High Priest of the Old Religion, I annul all laws on the restriction of magic. On this day, the balance is righted.”
There was a screech of rage behind them. They turned in time to see Morgana run forward, sword sliding neatly into Emrys, pressing through and out the back. The world was silent as he stood there, blinking owlishly in surprise, staring down at the sword and the red spreading from its point of contact.
Sighing, he lifted a hand, bushing it over her face. “See clearly, with unclouded eyes, Seer and learn the truth of your past.” Morgana blinked slowly and stepped back, the sword still clutched in her hand, drawing it from Emrys’s body slowly.
He gave a pained gasp, falling to his knees. Arthur was there before anyone could move. “Mer-Emrys, hang on. You’ve got to hang on.”
“I didn’t…I mean, I never…”
Emrys smiled up at Morgana as blood flowed over his lips and down his chin. “By right of combat, you now bear the title of High Priestess. I hope you will do better than your predecessor.” She nodded shakily, tears in her eyes, but lips set in a firm line.
“Emrys, you need to stay with us.” Gwaine ordered, crouching next to the man, Lancelot next to him and the rest of the knights behind them.
“I can’t. This was always meant to happen. I must return to Avalon. I am glad though, to be able to experience your friendships through Merlin. I will remember it always.” He was gone then, eyes fading back to blue as the magic in him drained away. All around them, the battlefield was silent in respect for the great being that had left their world.
~*~
Arthur walked lifelessly into his tent. He was alone; Uther talking with Gaius as he patched up those hurt in the battle. He was grateful for this though, when he saw the folded parchment resting on his cot, stark against the rich red of his blanket.
Lifting it with shaking hands, he read his name written in a scrawled hand. Opening it a smaller piece fell out. Setting it aside, he read:
Dear Arthur,
I know you must be confused and angry and sad and so many other things that can’t be named. All I can say is, I’m sorry. I wish things could have ended differently, that I could be here next to you and not this letter, but this is all I have the time for, for soon I will be gone from this world.
I just wish to say, please don’t hate Emrys for his role in this. He had no choice in this. If you must blame someone, blame my father and Kilgharrah for the choice they made. I have tried and yet, I know if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been here and been able to experience life in Camelot for as long as I did.
I told you years ago that I would serve you until the day I died, and I have. I am honored to have known you and to have called you friend. All I said then still stands. Try not to be too much of a prat. Listen to people. That will be your biggest strength, if you just listen to those around you. You can’t do everything and there will always be someone who knows more about something than you. They can help when you need it. And learn to think before leaping. Too many times I have had to save your backside because you jumped into action before thinking things through. I won’t be around to save you anymore, so you must learn to look out for yourself. I’m sure the others will help.
I love you and will be waiting for you on the day it is your turn to come here. Not too soon, or I’ll have to yell at you for being the idiot you so love calling me. Look after Gwaine for me. I know this will hurt him deeply and he will pretend to be unaffected. I’m sorry. I hope to see you again, even in Avalon.
I have written a letter to Gaius. Could you please give it to him for me? He deserves to know as well, the truth behind all of this.
Your Loyal Servant and Friend,
Merlin
Arthur stared down at the parchment in his hand as he sat on his cot. He jumped when a drop of water fell on it. With a jerk, he realized he was crying, Wiping his eyes hastily, he rolled the parchment up and stowed it away into the small chest he had brought with him, locking it away with the miniature painting of his mother and her wedding ring. Picking up
~*~
Gwaine stared down at the parchment clutched in his trembling hands, afraid and unwilling to open it just yet. Night had since fallen and the campfires blazed around them. Only a candle lit the inside of the tent he shared with Merlin and it pained him to see Merlin’s things still resting inside, as if at any moment, Merlin would poke his head through the tent flaps with a smile and call his name.
Reaching up, he felt the pendent and ring through the thin material of his shirt. He knew he would never give them to anyone else. They would remain with him until his last days on earth and they would be buried with him.
Merlin was already buried, his body resting in the newly churned earth. Gwaine and the rest of them had stood silently as he was laid to rest beneath a gray sky, wrapped in a cloak of crimson, the golden Camelot dragon shining weakly in what little light got through the clouds as the sun started to sink.
Sighing, he reached for his belt, intending to remove it to sit more comfortably. Cloth met his fingers and he looked down. Merlin’s neckerchief was still tied around his sword sheath from where he’d put it this morning - god, last night! - when he had found it somehow stuffed under his pillow. He hadn’t known then that Merlin had already left.
Fingering it, he felt something clench in his chest. Taking a shaky breath, he unbuckled his belt and set it aside and picked up the letter again. Willing himself to do it, he unfolded the creased parchment, barely glancing at his name scrawled on the front. Another piece of parchment fell out onto his lap. The name Hunith was written across it. Taking a breath, he started to read:
Gwaine,
This is so hard. There is so much I wish to say and express yet I can’t seem to find the words. You have been everything to me these past few months, even before we started this path we were on. Yet it appears we must bring it to an end.
I never wanted this to happen, for you to learn of things this way. By the time you read this, events will have already been set in motion that cannot be undone and I will no longer be here though it seems my body will. I know that my father and Kilgharrah made a difficult choice and that they never expected for events to turn out like this, but even so, I still cannot bring myself to forgive them.
I have faced so many similar choices in my time in Camelot and all have weighed heavily no matter the outcome. But I wish to say one thing: do not hate Emrys for his role in this. He had as much choice as I did, and I know he never wished for it to end this way. I have seen the pain he took in this and though I never wished for things to end like this, I will do it with all the dignity and honor I have.
I want you to know I will always love you and I will wait for you in Avalon. There will always be a place in my heart for you should we meet again under any circumstances. Do not mourn me too long, for it always hurts me to see you suffer. Live a long and happy life and if you so wish, share it with someone who can make you as happy as you did me and I hope, I did you.
Please remember me fondly and if you would, keep an eye on Arthur. He will become a great king, but he will need help. Since I can no longer be there, it is up to you and the others to make sure he doesn’t kill himself from being an idiot and prat.
I have enclosed a letter to my mother and ask that you convey it to her as a last favor to me. I know it will break her heart, but I wish her to know of what befell me even if I cannot be there to comfort her.
Always watching over you and in your heart,
Merlin
Letting the tears flow freely, Gwaine sat there, long into the night until at last the candle burned out, taking with it his strength, and sleep finally claimed him.
~*~
Two days later found Gwaine pulling his horse up in front of a familiar cottage. Hunith stepped out, wiping her hands on her skirt as she squinted up through the sunlight to see his face. He didn’t need to say anything as the grief on his face conveyed everything. He caught her in time as she collapsed, cries of anguish muffled into his shoulder as he held her up.
He stayed only briefly, knowing that she wished to be alone amongst the memories that populated the hut, memories that he could not share with her. That hurt most, that his memories with Merlin were so few and cut short.
Slowing his horse down, he pulled up before the edge of the forest at the foot of the mountains. Tying the horse to a tree, he walked some distance, towards a small stone marker. Engraved into it was his name, the earth was smooth. Already plants were growing back over it. Soon, nothing would be left but a stone marker to show of the man who willingly gave his life to stop a war from destroying both sides.
That night, he slept under the stars and dreamed of Merlin. He smiled at Gwaine and spoke, though Gwaine could hear nothing of what he said. Just as he awoke, he heard his voice, soft as a whisper in his ear, “I wish to be with Gwaine.” He awoke with tears streaming down his face.
Stopping one last time at the marker, he stared in awe at the thing that now stood there. The stone was still there, but behind it, a great towering oak shaded it. He brushed a hand over it and for a second, he thought he could feel Merlin again.
Stepping back, he mounted again and left, not looking back. But afterwards, every time he rode by, he stopped to stare at the tree and run a hand over its gnarled bark. He camped under it; no matter how close to Camelot he was or how much daylight was left, and each time, he could feel Merlin, as if briefly, he had the man of his heart back.
~*~
Thunder rolled overhead and lightening flashed in a blaze of glory. Gwaine was nearing Merlin’s grave, and it was with some dismay that he realized he would not be able to stay under the tree this night, not with the storm. Forcing his horse forward, he steered it to go by anyway. He needed to at least touch its trunk before he left.
A year had already gone by since that fateful day. Arthur reigned as king now, Uther having died a month after, seeming to have just let go his grip on life. No one was surprised, and if he ever got his forgiveness, no one knew.
He was nearing the great oak when a huge bolt of lightning touched down up ahead, resounding with an almighty crack and boom of thunder as something exploded and caught fire that was soon put out with the force of the rain coming down. He felt his heart plummet as his horse drew near once she stopped rearing in fright.
His tree was a blackened ruin, wood charred around the edges where it had split straight down the center, the two upper halves bowing under their own weight. The smell of burnt wood and sap assaulted his nose as he drew near and his horse, Cyssan, balked, unwilling to approach.
Dismounting, he strode closer, uncaring of the storm raging overhead as he mourned the loss of his precious tree, his last link to Merlin. Lightning flashed overhead again and illuminated the inside, showing something pale white against the black, charred remains of the heartwood of the tree.
Stepping even closer, Gwaine breathed more of the smoke, trying to see what was inside. More lightning and his heart skipped a beat as it revealed a pale shoulder that connected to an even paler neck and face, black locks blending into the shadows and burnt wood.
Pulling his knife from his sheath, he started to hack at the tree with a determined frenzy, uncaring as wood splinters buried themselves into his flesh, ripping away chunks of bark and wood to get to the inner part of the tree. With a great groan, the tree finished splitting, both sides falling away, and he dropped the knife to lurch forward as the body inside started to fall forward.
He stared down at the body, disbelieving what he saw and held, feeling its warmth, even though the rain had Gwaine chilled to the bone. He could barely croak out a name. “Merlin.” The sound was drowned out in a roll of thunder. He called again louder, shaking him a little.
A soft groan, music to his ears, announced Merlin’s return to consciousness. “Merlin!” he called again. Gwaine’s heart soared when beautiful blue eyes opened once again to stare up at him.
“Gwaine?” Merlin asked softly.
“Yes, god yes! Please tell me I’m not dreaming.” Gwaine begged, tears mixing with the rain water, a sob wanting to tear itself from his throat.
“You’re not. It’s all real. Emrys granted me one wish, though it took a year to complete. I’m alive and real and not leaving for a long time. I swear, I’m real.”
With a cry, Gwaine pulled him closer, shoulders hunched and heaving as Merlin wrapped his arms around him. Above them, head the storm raged, but neither noticed, too caught up in each other to care.
End.