Merlin BBC fic: "Epilogue" (Morgana, Merlin, Arthur)
fic: Epilogue
fandom: Merlin BBC
beta: Yuna_Kairi
characters: Morgana, Merlin, Arthur (Morgana/Arthur)
genre: drama
rating: PG
summary: They stood there - two powerful wizards - in silence because they hadn’t known what tied them to each other now. They’d became strangers as one of them entrusted the dying king to another.
+
Stillness descended on Camelot. People didn’t talk, children were hidden in mothers’ skirts, and church bells froze. When knights walked in the bailey, bearing on shoulders their dying king, nobody dared to move towards them. Merlin, who was at the head of the procession, wrapped up himself in his cloak and tried not to notice the silhouettes of servants in the shadows of the galleries.
There was only one silhouette waiting for them. It wasn’t the queen; Camelot had no Queen anymore. It was the Witch, the woman whose power people talked about only in whisper; whose beauty never gave rise to doubt; whose cunning they tried not to recall. She stood there on the grand stairs, all in black, lonely and deceptively vulnerable. Severe autumnal wind played with her hair, the hem of her dress clung to her legs, and Merlin saw that she was barefoot.
She neither said a word, nor smiled or laughed. With empty eyes she watched this silent procession, and didn’t pay attention to Merlin, who tiredly bowed.
“Morgana.”
Surprisingly, but her presence gave him mixed feelings. The fact she was waiting for them meant that it was the last night of the king in Camelot. But Merlin couldn’t feel bitterness or pain, or stupid fury because of the twisted fate. The fact Morgana was there meant that Arthur would be in safe hands.
Everything was like it had to be.
Knights lowered the stretcher, and the king groaned in unconsciousness. Weak hand slipped of the handle of Excalibur, the sword fell on the ground.
Merlin quickly bent and picked it up when Morgana moved.
“It’s your trouble now, Merlin,” she said quietly, and the wizard nodded hiding Excalibur under his cloak.
Morgana slowly approached to stretcher and bended over Arthur. Passed her hand caressingly across his pale forehead, touched his wounded chest. Then she straightened and stared at Merlin for the first time. Her gaze wasn’t denunciative, no, though it was his fault of Arthur dying now: he had always been the king’s keeper.
“We shall need the boat. At the dawn we shall set out for the Avalon where the king of Camelot will find his rest,” she said.
Merlin nodded. Then shook his head.
“We have always known that this would happen. After the time when you’d seen that dream. But I’ve never thought this would come before long.”
“Same for me,” faintly answered Morgana.
At her sign knights lifted the stretcher and carried the king into the safe walls of the castle, but she stayed in the bailey with Merlin by her side. She felt the cold surface of chilled stones with her feet, dust and specks that skimmed her legs. She waved away dark curls that playful wind threw in her face.
They stood there - two powerful wizards - in silence because they hadn’t known what tied them to each other now. They’d became strangers as one of them entrusted the dying king to another.
So it was: Merlin protected and helped Arthur all this those years. Now Morgana will be his guide and keeper after the death.
++
Gray waves rocked the light boat with the body of the greatest king of Camelot. He was still alive, but his breath weakened with every second, his heart missed the beats. Morgana, leaning on Merlin’s arm, stepped in the boat and sat with king’s head on her lap.
“Goodbye, Merlin.”
“Goodbye,” the wizard forced himself to speak, and by waving his hand gave the push to the boat. Morgana smiled to this token of gallantry though she was able to do that herself, but said no word. She lowered her gaze looking at pale Arthur’s face, and run her hand over his hair.
The shore swiftly moved away, but ahead the shape of Avalon was already visible, half-hidden in fogs. But Morgana le Fay knew that there they would find the rest that they have waited for so long. Avalon was the place where they could be together again, where she can could fearlessly take his hand, touch his cold lips and not to be afraid of being condemned. She could lie by his side on the altar and close her eyes, and press herself to his chest.
And dip in everlasting dream devoid of nightmares and sights, feeling thin heartbeat under her cheek, knowing that some day they will awake - together - and there will be another time and another life.
fin.
fandom: Merlin BBC
beta: Yuna_Kairi
characters: Morgana, Merlin, Arthur (Morgana/Arthur)
genre: drama
rating: PG
summary: They stood there - two powerful wizards - in silence because they hadn’t known what tied them to each other now. They’d became strangers as one of them entrusted the dying king to another.
+
Stillness descended on Camelot. People didn’t talk, children were hidden in mothers’ skirts, and church bells froze. When knights walked in the bailey, bearing on shoulders their dying king, nobody dared to move towards them. Merlin, who was at the head of the procession, wrapped up himself in his cloak and tried not to notice the silhouettes of servants in the shadows of the galleries.
There was only one silhouette waiting for them. It wasn’t the queen; Camelot had no Queen anymore. It was the Witch, the woman whose power people talked about only in whisper; whose beauty never gave rise to doubt; whose cunning they tried not to recall. She stood there on the grand stairs, all in black, lonely and deceptively vulnerable. Severe autumnal wind played with her hair, the hem of her dress clung to her legs, and Merlin saw that she was barefoot.
She neither said a word, nor smiled or laughed. With empty eyes she watched this silent procession, and didn’t pay attention to Merlin, who tiredly bowed.
“Morgana.”
Surprisingly, but her presence gave him mixed feelings. The fact she was waiting for them meant that it was the last night of the king in Camelot. But Merlin couldn’t feel bitterness or pain, or stupid fury because of the twisted fate. The fact Morgana was there meant that Arthur would be in safe hands.
Everything was like it had to be.
Knights lowered the stretcher, and the king groaned in unconsciousness. Weak hand slipped of the handle of Excalibur, the sword fell on the ground.
Merlin quickly bent and picked it up when Morgana moved.
“It’s your trouble now, Merlin,” she said quietly, and the wizard nodded hiding Excalibur under his cloak.
Morgana slowly approached to stretcher and bended over Arthur. Passed her hand caressingly across his pale forehead, touched his wounded chest. Then she straightened and stared at Merlin for the first time. Her gaze wasn’t denunciative, no, though it was his fault of Arthur dying now: he had always been the king’s keeper.
“We shall need the boat. At the dawn we shall set out for the Avalon where the king of Camelot will find his rest,” she said.
Merlin nodded. Then shook his head.
“We have always known that this would happen. After the time when you’d seen that dream. But I’ve never thought this would come before long.”
“Same for me,” faintly answered Morgana.
At her sign knights lifted the stretcher and carried the king into the safe walls of the castle, but she stayed in the bailey with Merlin by her side. She felt the cold surface of chilled stones with her feet, dust and specks that skimmed her legs. She waved away dark curls that playful wind threw in her face.
They stood there - two powerful wizards - in silence because they hadn’t known what tied them to each other now. They’d became strangers as one of them entrusted the dying king to another.
So it was: Merlin protected and helped Arthur all this those years. Now Morgana will be his guide and keeper after the death.
++
Gray waves rocked the light boat with the body of the greatest king of Camelot. He was still alive, but his breath weakened with every second, his heart missed the beats. Morgana, leaning on Merlin’s arm, stepped in the boat and sat with king’s head on her lap.
“Goodbye, Merlin.”
“Goodbye,” the wizard forced himself to speak, and by waving his hand gave the push to the boat. Morgana smiled to this token of gallantry though she was able to do that herself, but said no word. She lowered her gaze looking at pale Arthur’s face, and run her hand over his hair.
The shore swiftly moved away, but ahead the shape of Avalon was already visible, half-hidden in fogs. But Morgana le Fay knew that there they would find the rest that they have waited for so long. Avalon was the place where they could be together again, where she can could fearlessly take his hand, touch his cold lips and not to be afraid of being condemned. She could lie by his side on the altar and close her eyes, and press herself to his chest.
And dip in everlasting dream devoid of nightmares and sights, feeling thin heartbeat under her cheek, knowing that some day they will awake - together - and there will be another time and another life.
fin.