by GR Griffin
“You’re a brave man,” Arthur cast Gwaine a dejected look. “And Merlin is lucky to have such a loyal friend; as am I.” he gazed at Will vigilantly for confirmation; they’d never really addressed this topic before. Their relationship just kind of became gradually less hostile and more civil. The slight pressure on his hand and the incredulous laugh assured him. That was all the assurance Arthur would receive. Slowly Will’s body became motionless. His trembling lips ceased trembling. His small moans of protest faded into quiet. His eyes lost their life, their effervescence. Then it was over. Will was dead. Will had died, saving Arthur Pendragon’s life. Releasing the hand sadly, the blonde bowed his head. Gwaine gently rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, seeming to struggle with his own composure.
Out from the crowd a brutal, devastating cry echoed in the silence. The woman pushed through the crowd, finally making it to the front. Her eyes widened in horror.
“WILL!” Freya keened in despair, holding a hand to her mouth as her knees buckled.
Macabre sobs overwhelmed her frail system, wrecking havoc on her body. She dived towards the body, gently stroking his forehead and kissing the pale, cold skin tenderly. Her hands were shaking as she cradled his head in her lap. Tears continued to stream down her face. She was inconsolable. She’d lost her love. The sight broke Arthur. The pain she felt was unimaginable, but to think of losing your loved one in such a way… He sat not too far from her, despondency and misery clouding over him. He felt the tears trickle down his skin; his lips trembled at the sight of something totally destructive and soul shattering. This was almost worse than watching Will die, watching Freya mourn, knowing that nothing could ease this tragedy. Nothing could nurse this pain. Her raw, hoarse cries bellowed out in the humble silence.
Arthur stood dismally as did Gwaine, allowing Freya time to grieve in solitude over Will. His death served as a bleak reminder of all who had fallen. Unable to control the choked sob that left his mouth in a muffled cry, Arthur gazed out across the plain. Hundreds, thousands had died here today. They all would have families, maybe children who were waiting anxiously for their return. Freya’s loud shrieks of grief had vanished into silence, her voice unable to sustain them. But she was still weeping, her face and soul contorted in such a way it brought many around her to tears. Lifting his head, turning from the sight, Arthur pushed Excalibur into his belt.
“Tonight, we will hold a memorial in honour of those fallen, at Iaonem.” He declared to Elätha who nodded in agreement. Darting his eyes to Morgana, Arthur frowned.
“Escort the People back to Iaonem, I’ll meet you there.” He leapt up onto Aithusa’s back swiftly, sparing one final look down upon Will and a broken Freya. Then his eyes met the sky, and his sadness morphed into worry. The sun would set in an hour, and Freya would become the lethal Bastet. She seemed to feel his prodding gaze upon her. Turning round to face him, she cast him a deflated look. Her curse would take hold soon, and it could endanger the People. She kissed Will’s head once final time before bravely walking away. Morgana made haste to follow her but was brusquely stopped by Eloŵen, leader of the Serepolis Clan. Arthur watched her stalk off into the Breguoin battlefield, away from the direction of Iaonem.
Then he and Aithusa rose into the sky, flying briskly towards Iaonem. The cold air pelted his skin and made the tears on his face sting a little. Aithusa said nothing as they glided through the air, clearly lost in thought and pensive. In the near distance, Arthur spotted the ancient, majestic area. There was a large group of People there, the children and Elderly that had escaped the tunnels. He spared a small smile for them. It faded as they drew closer. Merlin, Merlin, Merlin. Aithusa landed on the large stone plateau. Without hesitation, Arthur rushed through the crowds of children and women and elderly all elated to see him. He treaded urgently through the settlement, not stopping until he found the secluded section behind a large stone.
As he rounded the corner, his eyes met Gaius and Gwen; Kilgarrah was standing a little further back. The pair of them were sat around a pallid, restless figure; Merlin. Gwen met Arthur’s eyes, too concerned about Merlin to smile or offer any kind of verbal greeting.
Placing a hand on Gaius’ shoulder, Arthur gazed down at Merlin.
“How is he? What have you found?” he enquired; gazing over to the gun that Gaius had dismantled on the floor.
“That was no ordinary gun that shot Merlin,” the old man explained, pressing a cold cloth against the Druid’s forehead. Clenching his fists, Arthur sighed. Of course it wasn’t an ordinary gun, that’s just what he needed to hear. Gwen reached over and took over the job as Gaius turned to Arthur with a grimace.
“So wh-what does that mean?” Arthur pried nervously, incapable of steadying his voice.
Gaius gestured over to the bullet that he had pulled out of Merlin. Inspecting it, Arthur held it in his hands. There were small engravings around its body, symbols he didn’t recognise. Narrowing his eyes curiously, he studied them meticulously. All in all, these symbols were definitely Druid symbols. Magic was part of this. A strangled moan left his lips as the thought rushed through his mind. Gaius’ words confirmed his fears.
“There is no bleeding, no signs of physical injury other than a severe fever and sickness. This bullet suggests that the gun was induced with powerful, dark magic.”
Not liking the sound of this, Arthur held the bridge of his nose. Kilgarrah spoke before Gaius could continue.
“Its purpose was not to hurt the body, but to inflict magical injury upon Emrys.” Flinching at the proposal, Arthur turned back to Gaius. His heart was racing, his eyes watery and vision blurry. He couldn’t listen to the bleakness in their voices, in all of their voices. It fucking hurt too much. Thus, he tried to counteract it.
“So its hurting Merlin’s magic, not him?” the optimism in his voice was evident. It was instantly crushed.
“Merlin is magic.” Gaius replied grimly, almost scolding Arthur for his naivety. “It is as vital to his body as his organs.” Hitching a breath anxiously, Arthur longingly gazed down at the fallen man. Oh how he wished Merlin would just get to his feet and start spewing nonsense or making bad jokes right now. He didn’t, to say the least. What did happen next however, crumbled Arthur’s world. He heard the words resound through his ears hauntingly.
“Without magic, Merlin will surely die.”
The words were drenched in sorrow, as if Gaius already believed Merlin was dead. It unsettled Arthur. He may have magic, but he wasn’t all that knowledgeable about it. Seeing Gaius uneasy, so lacking in hope truly terrified him. But it wasn’t Gaius’ bleak and miserable expression that ignited an inferno inside of him. It was Gwen. Never able to conceal her emotions, it was obvious when she was deliberately keeping quiet. He’d learnt this many months ago from Merlin. Arthur ground his teeth. He looked over Gaius’ shoulder and over to her. Immediately she broke the eye contact, refusing to initiate it again. Her eyes rested on the ground, on Merlin, anywhere but Arthur. That was enough proof for him. Ignoring the raw pain in his body, the throbbing of unclean, fresh wounds, Arthur leapt furiously into action. Seconds later, he was in Gaius’ face, eyes fierce.
“What aren’t you telling me?” averting his eyes in the same manner Gwen had, Gaius frowned grimly. He made no effort to respond, unfazed by Arthur’s sudden invasion of his personal space. Breathing fast and heavy, Arthur stared at the old man imploringly, hand clasped on his sword tightly for support. Finally, he met Arthur’s eyes.
“Arthur, you need to rest, you are wounded and-”
Flinging Gaius’ hands off his shoulders rapidly, Arthur took a step backwards. Hurt and betrayal were rife in his tormented expression. His eyes met Merlin’s pale face and with a slow blink, he turned to Gaius once more.
“Don’t lie to me Gaius. I’m not dying, Merlin is. I refuse to rest until I know we have tried all that we can.” There was intensity to Arthur’s voice, a grit determination that the others around him desperately clung onto. It Imploringly, he gazed
into Gaius’ eyes. The old man, his old friend, returned the gaze. He eventually succumbed to the stare with a dejected sigh. Arthur held his breath anxiously, waiting for Gaius’ response.
“There is a special flower, the Mortius flower. If mixed in with certain plant roots and herbs, it could restore Merlin to health.” Pause. Arthur sensed there was something he was purposefully omitting. Before he could enquire what it was, Gaius continued. “It is very rare (Arthur pressed his eyes shut dismally at the negative words.), in fact I don’t know a single Druid who has ever found one.”
Arthur paced back and forth, hand on his chin firmly. He stayed like this for a few minutes. They all watched with trepidation as he increased his pace and then drastically slowed down. His gait was uneven, oozing with tension that attempted to spread over the rest of them. It almost did so too; ready to plunge the whole group into eternal darkness. Then abruptly, Arthur came to a halt. He lifted his head firmly and met Gaius’ eyes with burning resolution. He appeared to have come to a decision.
“Where is this flower?”
“Arthur…” Gwen breathed, cupping her mouth as unwilling sobs tried to creep out her mouth and into their surroundings. Gently, she prodded Merlin’s forehead with the damp cloth again, not able to look in their direction.
Eyes wide and uncertain, Arthur’s gaze darted between the woman and Gaius. Gaius bowed his head for a moment, clasping his hands together. Neither were offering words of explanation for their behaviour. He turned behind him to meet the surprisingly meditative Dragons. Behind their enigmatic eyes, there was definite sadness, one that could not be overlooked. Spinning around, trapped in a web of upset that he didn’t understand, Arthur blinked back his tears. He swallowed-hard as he met Gaius’ eyes, not liking this eerie knowing silence that hovered around them all and excluded him. The old man smiled despondently before words spilled from his mouth.
The gravity of the statement hit him full on with the intensity of a physical shove. Shock gripped his system, overpowering him. Arthur stumbled forwards weakly, eyes rolling into the back of his head. His knees wobbled, and he felt the arms of Gaius wrapped around him. His whole body trembled, a series of deep, pleading moans slipping from his gaping mouth. He clutched Gaius’ robes tightly, gasping for air between tragic, raw wordless noises that he didn’t even know he could make until now.
“Its only known place of growth was deep within the Crystal Cave.”
Notes:
TRANSLATIONS:
Helsceaða œne! Bereofan ċaeim âmaş, Hei cnyssan ofer, măwe đruiţe ĩean gehrören - Evil has been defeated! We are free from this dark oppression. It is over, but many druids have fallen in this battle.
Chapter 55
“Wh- no!” Arthur gasped, hurt and confusion stretched over his pale face. He shook his head incredulously at these impossible, cruel words. Fate was surely playing a sick game with his mind, for Gaius’ words could not be true. Theyjust fucking couldn’t. He pointed a finger angrily as if to cast the blame for Merlin’s illness upon his old friend. Gaius didn’t even flinch, he knew better than to do so. Instead, he blinked sadly as he watched the young man he’d once looked after dissolve into a frenzied mess.
“You! Wh-why would you say that?”
Staggering backwards, he held a hand his throbbing head. The Crystal Cave. It was a vile joke, laughing sadistically as Arthur’s balance faltered. It kept laughing, echoing into his shrieking ears. He felt his heart beat waver. Then it was being shredded, cracking split down the middle. He tried to inhale a deep breath, to ensure he could remain standing. Then another wave of this overwhelming nausea hit. The fucking Crystal Cave. Of course that had to be the place the Mortius flower could be found. He stood silently for a moment, gazing over to Merlin. The man now looked like he really was in peril, his body shaking, his breath uneven and his skin waxen, drenched with sweat. As he reached out urgently for the man with trembling fingers, he winced at the touch. Merlin was ice cold. Yet he was burning hot. Blinking back tears, he met Gaius’ miserable eyes. Disappointment flooded through him at the expression.
He had lost hope.
“So that’s it then?” he barked, glowering lividly at him. “You’re not even going to try?” The old man averted his eyes to the ground. The silent gesture seemed to answer Arthur’s questions. Unfortunately, it was not the answer he was looking for. But it was the one he feared he’d find. Leaning closer, Arthur’s voice dropped to a private whisper full of intensity.
“Merlin risked his life to save you when you were in the labs. He didn’t give up on you, despite the odds.”
Gaius met Arthur’s eyes again. The words evoked a stern frown; one full of wisdom the blonde wished wasn’t there or wasn’t earned because hell, nobody deserved to be on the receiving end of that kind of frown in this situation. The frown itself was a fact, a fact that stated the obvious – the obvious being what he didn’t – refused to accept.
“Arthur,” Gaius began, casting his eyes back to look at Merlin. Arthur felt his resolve crumble at the sound of his name, the way Gaius looked at Merlin. His foundations were slowly wavering. He breathed rapidly, cheeks puffing in and out as he tried to oxygenate his shaking body. He wasn’t sure how much longer it would suppress the dizziness clouding over him. Gaius’ voice reached his ears in stretched out, low chunks.
“The Crystal Cave, it was obliterated, destroyed. If anything is left there, it is ash and dust, mere remnants of what it once was.”
At that moment Hunith appeared. She cupped her mouth, an agonised cry spilling from her lips as she darted towards her son. The only family she had left. Gaius moved to console her, gently pressing his hand upon her shoulder. The woman met Gwen’s gentle, brown eyes fearfully. Arthur watched, totally horrified. Of all people, Hunith didn’t deserve such suffering. She had lost her husband to the hand of Camelot. Now she may – no. Fuck no. This wasn’t how it ended; this couldn’t be how it all ended. Gritting his teeth, he refused to think about that. Merlin was going to live. He was going to ensure it. He was going to save Merlin, even if it fucking killed him. Suddenly, Hunith with her beautiful – but profoundly sad and weary – eyes gazed over to him. He offered her a simple nod of his head; she weakly smiled in response. It was his confirmation to her. She understood, clasping her son’s hand tenderly.
Arthur turned away from them assertively, striding towards Aithusa. They all silently watched as he stopped by the Dragon. Gwen drew her eyebrows together in bewilderment. Nobody dared to speak, or ask. He pulled Excalibur from his belt, thrusting it into the ground before him. Then slowly, he fell onto his knees, head bowed. The White Dragon blinked in surprise at the gesture; Kilgarrah was unable to hide his smile. The Once and Future, oh how the legends only told half of his greatness, an ounce of his courage, inches of his fortitude! Arthur lifted his head gradually, meeting Aithusa’s crystal eyes earnestly. She lowered her head, now face to face with the man. He felt her breath on his face pushing his blond hair off his face, then back down to his forehead rhythmically. Clasping the hilt of the sword, he raised his eyebrows. The great, elegant Dragon before him seemed to understand his implications. Without words, the two appeared to be at the same conclusion.
He cast a look to Kilgarrah who lightly bowed his head, watching intently. It appeared he seemed to be approving of this silent request. That was all Arthur needed. Pulling himself onto his feet, Arthur pushed Excalibur back into his belt. As he did so, Aithusa bowed her head, allowing Arthur to climb onto her back. A small smile dusted the White Dragon’s scaly lips. In an instance, it was clear to the Druids what Arthur Pendragon was about to do. Gaius asked his intentions aloud anyway, nervous and unsure.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to find the flower,” Arthur replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the entire world and completely possible. “I cannot sit and wait here, knowing Merlin is dying.”
“Don’t be stupid Arthur,” a new voice snapped and honestly Arthur couldn’t recal
l when she had entered the scene. Behind her, he saw the clan leaders who had arrived back to Iaonem. They gazed over to Merlin solemnly. A few of them whispered silent words- prayers- and Arthur couldn’t help but wince at the prospect of offering prayers. This wasn’t out of their hands yet. The raven-haired woman tore her eyes between Merlin and Arthur. Biting her lip, she grimaced. “You could die if you do not rest-”
“-I’m fine Morgana.” He replied with a similar severity. His eyes flickered over to Gaius in concern. Swallowing-hard, he asked the question he had been dreading to ask. “How long does he have?” the word long was outstretched over a severe lump in his throat, giving it a hollow but heavy texture.
“Five days at the most. But he is fading away quickly.” Gaius explained, his voice calm and steady and Arthur wondered how the hell he was managing to endure all of this.
“Then it is settled.” Adjusting himself on the saddle, Arthur lifted his head boldly. He spared a glance for Hunith who was watching him proudly, as if he were her own. Then he acknowledged the Clan leaders. “Aithusa and I will go the Crystal Cave.”
“We will not depart home until you return Once and Future, all of Albion is on your side.” Ryol declared. Topia beside him nodded in agreement. Touched by the words, Arthur felt a fond smile spread over his face. The Saerion clan leader walked forwards, bowing her head to the Dragon and Arthur.
“Good luck, Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur cast them all a final glance. His eyes settled on a writhing Merlin; his composure faltered. Swiftly he and Aithusa majestically rose into the air. They swirled around the settlement of Iaonem dramatically before spiraling into the sky. The white beast and her legendary rider faded into the cerulean sky, her white wings hypnotically flapping back and forth against the wind. Then they had vanished from the horizon completely. Yet many eyes rested upon the sky, hoping soon that the White Dragon and her rider would return and save the Young Emrys. Gazing up into the sky, Kilgarrah’s eyes gleamed with mirth. Then he turned to the young Emrys, tossing and turning on the stone they had compiled into a makeshift bed. He stalked towards the people hovering over him. With a loud grunt, he maneuvered them away from Merlin, all but Gwen and Gaius, allowing space for him to sit beside the Druid.
