by GR Griffin
“Thank you for your help last night. Morgana slept sound, and appears to be recovering.” He hummed rather contentedly, causing Merlin to flinch at the words. He had hardly helped; more like designed an elaborate cover up.
Tossing a few stranded sticks to his pile, Arthur continued to talk, blissfully unaware Merlin had grinded to an abrupt halt.
“Already she’s back to poking fun at me. You should have heard what she said to me-“
“-Morgana has magic Arthur.”
The substantial pile of wood fell from Arthur’s arms, his mouth agape. He could have sworn Merlin had just said Morgana had magic. But according to Morgana, Merlin had told her the ferocious bites on her arms had instigated the delusional nightmares. Narrowing his eyes at the druid, the blonde watched Merlin purse his lips together in a troubled manner. At a predatory pace, Arthur walked towards the motionless figure whose face was pale, eyes wide and impassive. Reaching Merlin’s side, he failed to connect their eyes.
“Are you…sure of this?”
After a slight pause, Merlin nodded and felt words rush past his lips. He had never been good at keeping secrets. Somehow it had become harder to do so in the presence of Arthur Pendragon.
“I felt it as soon as she arrived.”
Comprehension flashed before Arthur’s eyes and he turned darkly to the druid.
“That’s why you were so keen to leave Ealdor. Not only because of the Elders or my broken pledge to keep people out, but because they would be able to senseher magic!”
“She has the gift of prophecy-“
Merlin took a step backwards warily as Arthur leant forwards into his personal space, face menacing.
“-Instead of telling her the truth you lied!” he exclaimed indignantly, hurt flashing over his face for a moment as if he foolishly had assumed Merlin would be incapable of lying and was one of the rare few above it. Averting his gaze to the floor, the raven-haired man sighed audibly.
“You fed her an elaborate lie about a freaking bug that causes nightmares to try and pacify her-“
“-That’s not a lie. The Fruten do cause such effects.” Arthur could sense the ‘but’ hovering in the air. It arrived swiftly.
“Just not to the extent I made out.”
Throwing his arms into the air, Arthur hastily turned his back on Merlin, pacing back and forth like an antagonised lion ready to pounce. Holding a hand to the bridge of his nose, he tired to control the anger bottling up inside of his body. His whole skin was burning with rage. Suddenly he stopped pacing and practically jumped towards Merlin.
“What about the antidote you gave her - is that even real?!” he failed to care that his voice was now echoing around the forest, nor that it caused some level of anxiety to Merlin. Part of him knew he was being a bit of a hypocrite, for he too was withholding a secret of far greater importance. Nonetheless, the genuine disappointment he felt at Merlin’s actions seeped through his eyes.
“…the antidote,” Merlin coughed, throwing his eyes anywhere but Arthur’s seething complexion. “It’s a regular plant induced with my magic-”
“-I can’t believe! I ca…you!” Arthur gasped, words muffled slightly. “Of all people …capable of something like this-“
It was Merlin’s turn to unleash his own irritation. As usual, this prat failed to grasp the burden placed upon his shoulders, the choices he had to make. It was not just in the interests of one person, his decisions had to encompass the whole of Albion. He was Emrys. He wasn’t going to let Arthur Pendragon – son of the man who condemned his kind – belittle him.
“-Do you think I enjoyed lying to her? Because actually, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done-”
Arthur scoffed; Merlin continued.
“-It’s best that she doesn’t know of her powers.”
“Who the fuck are you to decide that?!” Arthur said vehemently, kicking a branch on the ground viciously, causing it to roll several metres forwards. He half expected Merlin to say ‘Emrys’. Instead, Merlin frowned solemnly. Arthur would never understand this matter. He would never be able to see that what Merlin had done was in fact kind and humane, and in Morgana’s best interests.
“Seeing the future can destroy who you are. It can change you from the inside.” He explained vaguely, not willing to go into any more depth.
Arthur felt his anger fizzle away and instead feel it be replaced by inquisitiveness. There was a personal tone embedded in the words, one that could simply not be neglected.
“You say that as if you’ve had your fair share of it yourself.” He tested the waters, and received a dark chuckle in return.
Shaking his head, Merlin turned his head away for a second. Once again Arthur found himself discovering that there was so much to Merlin he still didn’t know. Having unsheathed one layer merely revealed another one that was just as well barricaded and even more enigmatic. Letting the laughter fade, Merlin met Arthur’s eyes.
“I suggest you continue to let her think the nightmares were the result of the Fruten.”
“Merlin, that’s not fair-”
“-Fair is not what matters right now. She is safe Arthur.” His eyes frosted over with compassion, praying the blonde would finally understand his reasoning for this on the little knowledge Merlin had supplied him. However, the man frowned. It was obvious he was unable to fully grasp the situation. Breathing deeply, Merlin spoke in a tone signifying wisdom.
“You know better than anyone your father’s views on magic.” Arthur’s eyes widened at the suggestion behind those words, but remained silenced.
“And you know what your father did when he found out his oldest friend was a sorcerer.” Gaius; the name was left unspoken to hang in the air dejectedly. The way Merlin fragmented these statements between laboured pauses simply added more weight to them, unnerving Arthur.
“The fact that you haven’t revealed to him that you’ve been using magic here in Ealdor just proves how far his influence carries.” Arthur yet again found himself speechless as to how Merlin seemed to know so much he had not voiced.
“If Morgana were to know of her powers, it would leave her trapped in the worst possible place to have magic-”
“-I’d bring her here.” Arthur foolishly replied, conscious that this would not be possible when thinking about it realistically.
“-I wish that could be, but it can’t.” Merlin frowned. “Arthur you said so yourself only a handful of you are granted access to wander outside the base, and you are aware of how the clan feel about uninvited guests to Ealdor…”
Raking a hand through his golden hair, Arthur let out a huff of defeat. All of Merlin’s points were valid and all centred on protecting the closest thing to a sister Arthur had.
“How long?” he asked. I don’t think I can keep any more secrets he thought to himself solemnly.
“Until the time is right. Trust me on this Arthur.”
The rest of day, there was evident tension between them. It draped over their shoulders, stinging their eyes and bruising their skin. Nonetheless, it wasn’t enough to stop Arthur from calling Merlin an idiot, or for Merlin to laugh when Arthur clumsily dropped all the wood in his hands after tripping on a root.
For today, they both decided it would have to be enough.
♦☼♦
“I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Arthur confessed later that day, when the moon had just started its reign of the dark sky. Merlin walked silently through the small patch of bioluminescent flowers, knowing the blonde had more to say.
“It’s just…” sighing, Arthur raked a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s Morgana. I’ve known her all my life. She’s like my sister, family. I…I just want to look after her. I wanted to make sure she was okay.” He explained, hands brushing against the neon, glowing plant.
“Then you said you’d lied to her, that she had magic. Well I-”
“-Arthur I understand.” Merlin replied calmly. “I’d do the same in your situation.”
“But
what I’m trying to say is that…I know why you lied. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I want you to know I’m grateful.”
Confused, Merlin cast his eyes to the blonde.
“It’s better for her to be safe.” He admitted, gazing up at the golden moon.
It truly was a beautiful evening, an enchanted evening. Particularly due to the fact the moon was gold, sparkling like a giant jewel hanging in the sky. It was magnificent, breathtakingly wonderful. Merlin sat down amongst the glowing flowers. The bioluminescent petals radiated against his face. Arthur sat next to him, studying the beautiful flowers. Cocking his head to the side, Merlin ran his fingers delicately over a few of the flowers.
“This is nothing compared to Monus.” He said. “Acres and acres of beautiful flowers. They’re vibrant and a mixture of colours, all lighting up in the night.”
“Sounds…nice.” Arthur responded.
“Oh I’ve never actually been,” Merlin sheepishly replied. “Will went once...um…”
Frowning, he bowed his head. It had only been two days since his departure; it felt like it had been months already away from his best friend. And the thought that he may never return…it truly hurt him. He wondered if Will was missing him too, or if he was content blissfully unaware of the wreckage he’d left behind in Ealdor. Inhaling a large gulp of air, Merlin raised his head.
“Sorry, I…” he laughed nervously, attempting to keep his composure. “…it’s weird not having him around.”
Unsure what to say, Arthur simply nodded. They sat in the quiet until Merlin eventually broke out of his pensive state and decided to change the subject. Dwelling on this would not make things better, only worse.
“Next week, I’m taking a group of druids up to Mánhús.” he began. “They’re going to take the test, and find their very own Wvyern.”
Arthur tried not to express his jealousy at this. But it was something to be envious of. They were going to get their own Wyvern, fly the skies. Twisting his lips, Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“Well. Good for them.” He jeered grumpily, failing spectacularly at hiding his envy.
Merlin giggled beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest. Arthur did not understand how this was funny. Turning to him, Arthur narrowed his eyes, a little hurt that Merlin was giggling at his temper tantrum, giggling at the fact Arthur was clearly nowhere near good enough to tame Wyverns yet.
“You didn’t think I was going to leave you behind did you?” Merlin asked, a toothy grin spreading over his face.
“…You want me to watch?” Ah. That made sense. He could watch the process; use it as a lesson for the time when eventually he too would face the same thing. Well, that was if he ever did. He knew there had been great speculation as to the extent Merlin should go in his lessons.
“Did you not hear what I just said?” Merlin groaned in exasperation, a smile sweeping his features. When Arthur frowned, Merlin realised the prat was too caught up in self-doubt. He’d have to spell it out for him.
“You’re coming with me. Not to watch, to take the test.”
“You’re being serious?” Arthur asked, unable to conceal the smile spreading over his face.
“Of course I am, dollophead.” Merlin gazed up to the golden moon. “This week I’ll talk through the procedures to you and the others. There is much to prepare, much that you need to learn in order to survive this test.”
“…survive?” Arthur gulped, not liking the sound of that. It sounded like there was a chance of death.
“It is very unusual for everyone in the group to return.” Merlin explained solemnly.
Usually, only one would be unsuccessful and perish in the battle. On occasions there would be two or three. He remembered his group; it had been the worst known in Ealdor history. Balinor had taken them to Mánhús; there had been eight of them. It had been in the winter, when snow had engulfed everything. The mountain was freezing, and judging by their clothing, nobody seemed to have remembered that magic was forbidden until the time you could make the bond. Merlin’s teeth had clattered the whole journey, every inch of his body screamed for him to shut his eyes and sleep. He didn’t. Mainly because Will was behind him shouting that if he didn’t move faster he was going to push Merlin off the cliff edge.
He and Will were the only one to return from his whole group. It had been a sad day. He still remembered the faces of the parents waiting anxiously back in Ealdor, breaking into hysterical sobs as they saw only two druids walking behind Balinor. Merlin had only ever led four groups; Balinor passed the responsibility down to him when he was just Eighteen years old. Some of the people taking the test were older than him, and they also thought they were wiser. Merlin had watched many die. Out of all four groups, there had been at least one fatality. He knew it was not his own doing, but he still felt like their blood was on his hands.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about sending Arthur into this brutal climate. But he knew he had to. It was no secret that he had been holding Arthur back for at least three weeks; unsure what else he could possibly teach him. Arthur was destined for something great. All great druids knew how to fly a Wyvern.
“I’m not worried.” Arthur said out of the blue, obviously noticing Merlin was silently fretting to himself.
“I have the best teacher in Albion, Emrys himself.”
Chapter 27
The Mánhús region appeared even more unwelcoming than the first time Arthur had set foot upon its soil. The narrow trail up to the Wyvern’s nest seemed to have slimmed, or at least shed a significant amount of stone since during the course of the past few months. Dark clouds hovered ominously over the plateau above. They rumbled warnings to Arthur, setting him on edge with occasional roars that really did resemble a giant Dragon. Despite still being at the bottom of the mountain, he could hear the Wyverns too. Merlin stood beside him, a plain look plastered over his face, expertly masking any emotion or attachment to a particular subject. Though it would not be true to say Merlin’s eyes didn’t soften when he looked upon Arthur Pendragon.
Today, Arthur and four other young druids were going to take the test to become Riders. Beside Arthur was a slender woman with long brown hair: Zelina. Her face was soft and well-rounded, with two endearing dimples on either side of her cheeks. She had a contagious smile, as Arthur had discovered on their journey, and absorbing dark brown eyes. She was one of a rare few female subjects given the opportunity to ride a Wyvern. Arthur had learnt in the space of ten minutes that she was exceptionally brave, headstrong and totally in love with Merlin. Merlin this, Merlin that, oh Merlin – swoon, sigh, big anime eyes. Not that this bothered him or anything. If only Merlin didn’t flash his totally brilliant smile at everyone in sight and get the poor girl’s hopes up – that is, if Merlin wasn’t interested. Maybe he was? Not that it mattered-
-Shaking the thoughts off, Arthur sighed. Now of all times was the worst possible moment to be thinking! He had to focus. The other guys seemed to have no trouble clearing their minds for the task. They also had incredibly obnoxious names: Macelis (big-boned, not a great talker, disliked Arthur), Truin (similar build to Arthur, a tad less handsome in Arthur’s opinion – indifferent to Arthur Pendragon) and Jyuna (fresh-faced, extremely young and vibrant – irritatingly egoistic). According to Merlin, Jyuna was one of the youngest druids to ever take the test. Arthur would have burst into spontaneous congratulations if the kid didn’t have his head so far up his own arse.
Merlin had told the five of them the rules for the challenge, trying his best not to continuously draw his eyes to Arthur (he failed). No magic was to be used until the bonding process, if the druid used magic they would automatically fail the test. Thus, they had to all walk up the mountain to the plateau. Then one by one they would seek out their Wyvern and try their best to heroically tame it.
It was a dangerous, perilous challenge. Nobody could aid you in this ancient tradition. The challenge was yours alone; to tame a Wyvern and bond with it. Merlin couldn’t help but fee
l anxious about this day. It was a rite of passage for many druids, one step closer to rebirth. People had died trying to tame Wyverns; people had fallen off the plateau to their death. Some had been mercilessly hurtled off the creature’s back just moments into mounting it.
Some forgot entirely about the horns and were rammed through the ribs against the walls, the horns slicing through their skin with ease. It was terrifying to watch, knowing there was nothing you could do. Merlin had spent the remainder of the night awake, at the lake. He was afraid if he shut his eyes he’d see Arthur being eaten alive or fatally wounded. The Wyverns were vicious beats. But nonetheless, valuable allies in the land of Albion, and most useful for transport and defence.
The six of them had walked in single file, Zelina insisting to walk right behind Merlin. She began to fire spontaneous questions at the druid, eyes sparkling in admiration as he answered. Arthur rolled his eyes, about to take his place behind her. However, it seemed the three obnoxiously named men had a better idea. They pushed in front of Arthur, scraping past him before the pathway narrowed explicitly. However tempted Arthur was to push all three of these idiots off the edge, he thought better of it – especially when he noticed Merlin had turned round to locate him and shoot him a look of concern. He quickly looked away; Merlin continued walking.
Then the voice filled his head. Arthur was startled by it, mainly because Merlin was also talking to Zelinda and he’d never mentioned that it was possible to use both methods of communication at the same time to different people. Perhaps it wasn’t supposed to be or just impossibly difficult – Merlin was one of a kind after all. Arthur mentally shielded his mind for a second, hoping Merlin didn’t manage to pluck out the complement. It seemed for now he was safe.
You okay?
Feeling the corners of his lips twitch upwards involuntarily, Arthur kept his eyes on the path ahead.
Well. I’m stuck with an obsessive fangirl, three abominable jerks and a clumsy fool who’s supposed to be Emrys – what do you think?
