by GR Griffin
“Turn back and LEAVE.” He commanded fiercely, body trembling. “This place is to remain untouched.”
The machine started up again, only this time reversing itself back through the destruction it had caused. Arthur studied the scars of ugly metal tracks imprinted on the ground for miles. Trees were flattened, habitats destroyed, nature harmed and ruthlessly cast aside. He frowned at the sight; it was sickening. This was immoral, wrong. His father – why hadn’t he protested sooner against him? Morgana was right. Only Arthur had the power to implement change successfully. It would have taken time but it could have stopped all of this. Perhaps if he’d stood up to Uther sooner they wouldn’t even be in Albion. Merlin would be safe. They’d all be safe. Part of him wished that he’d still be standing here, that even if he had made the right choice, fate was inevitably going to lead him here, to this very spot with Merlin. He doubted it would have, yet wishing was all he could do to ease his conscience.
An exclamation of discomfort and aching drew him back into the present. Merlin. Rushing to Merlin’s side, he’d miraculously managed to maneuverer his wounded body onto the tree, Arthur inspected the shoulder urgently. Blood was streaming too fast from the shoulder. Arthur tried to maintain composure when he saw his own hands were bloody. Merlin chuckled – chuckled – which did not initiate the same response from Arthur.
“I don’t see anything funny about this.” Arthur grunted tetchily, silencing the other man promptly.
Sometimes Merlin really was full of wonders as he boasted to be (Arthur remembered that day in the forest, the two were squabbling and jeering almost as much as he and Morgana used to). But it was always for things neither expected: like stupidity, foolishness and being too blasé with putting his own life at risk. Merlin had been shot by Camelot. The gravity of the statement frightened Arthur, actually frightened him. Shit. Mentally cursing, the blonde frowned.
“I’ve seen worse,” he said quickly, trying to reassure himself more than Merlin. “I’ve definitely seen worse.”
Well that was a big fat lie, Arthur had been privileged enough to have never encountered injuries worse than a scraped knee or paper-cut. It was only in movies and TV shows he watched he’d seen this scale of injury. Although the wound looked grave, Arthur was thankful that the bullet had grazed over Merlin’s shoulder- grazed. It hadn’t even punched through the skin. Just imagining all the other fatal places it could have landed – his chest, his head, a little higher up through his neck-
-Silently, Arthur held his palm over the shoulder, magic emanating from it. He was no Merlin that was for sure, he wasn’t even that great a sorcerer, but this simple soothing spell was one he hoped would slow the bleeding. It also, if Arthur recalled correctly, induced the body into a resting state. Recognising what he had done, Merlin scowled petulantly. He tried to sit up in protest but failed miserably.
“I’m fine. I don’t need any spells, dollophead.”
The weary tone in his voice, the blood spewing from his shoulder told Arthur otherwise. Tearing a strip of cloth form his t-shirt, Arthur secured it around the shoulder desperately. His heartbeat quickened in panic as he watched the green shirt darken with blood. Shit. Why was he still bleeding? The spell was supposed to stop the blood. Scooping the druid up in his arms, Arthur kissed the man’s temple fiercely. He had to stay calm, brave for Merlin, just like Merlin had done for him many days ago. Despite the pain searing in his body, Merlin – the blundering fool –squirmed against Arthur.
“Leave me!” he hissed, afraid for the safety of the blonde after having seen what that machine could do.
Arthur thought it was the most ridiculous thing Merlin’s ever said, and that discounted a hell of a lot of things. Like he was ever going to leave Merlin anywhere.
“Now’s not the time for jokes.” he nonchalantly retorted, beginning to steadily make his way across the vast network of trees. He was no longer able to take the vines, worried he wouldn’t be able to support Merlin. Thus, he now was meticulously climbing over the overlapping branches.
The loud sound of crunching and motors faded into the distance, yet Merlin’s body was full of questions, curiosity. What were those things? Who sent them? What if they came back? Worry. Arthur wouldn’t stand a chance with Merlin in his arms. He would be crushed, pummelled under those blades and large things that squished everything in its way.
“Please, leave me.”
Rolling his eyes, Arthur sped up his pace, trying to hide his anxiety with a weak smirk. He hoped it was convincing.
“Sure, whatever you say.”
After ten minutes of Arthur carrying the druid to safety, Merlin had clearly become a little delirious, thanking his ‘noble sir’ for his ‘chivalry’, and then he demanded to be released so that he could ‘walk’. It triggered the first genuine laugh Arthur had expressed since the machines. Merlin still had some strength, he was still fighting. That was enough for Arthur to hold onto and cherish. When Arthur repositioned Merlin, draping him over his back, the druid groaned dramatically.
“Fear not damsel, your noble sir is only trying to help.”
Twenty long minutes later, he finally reached his destination; Ealdor. The settlement was quiet, barely any druids were outside. He was lucky it was still relatively early, drawing attention to himself or Merlin would be the last thing he needed right now. He spotted a familiar woman. Gwenevere immediately dropped what she was preoccupied with; the bucket fell to the ground, water hypnotically flowing. Tranquillity morphed into panic when she saw the streaks of blood on both Arthur and Merlin. Urgently, she rushed towards them. Gwen cupped her mouth in shock.
“Merlin!” she yelped in surprise, catching Arthur’s eyes in a wide terrified, gaze. “What happened?!” The people who had woken, sensing a change in atmosphere, started to gather round, watching the sight. Arthur prayed so hard that William was still asleep, he had no doubt the druid would probably try to murder him. He wasn’t surprised by this notion at all. Will was probably the wisest of all the druids; he had never trusted Arthur or the Pendragon’s. Now it seemed that was the best decision.
“Machine…” Merlin moaned, seemingly half-conscious and oblivious to his surroundings. “…they’re…coming.”
Before anything could escalate, Gwen ushered them towards one of the small healing rooms, urging Arthur to lay Merlin down onto the bed. The noise outside dimmed a little, as Gwen noted to pass on a tad of reassurance he would be okay through the minds of the people. To her relief, nobody followed. Although she knew Balinor and Hunith would be arriving soon. xOpening the clothing wrapped around the shoulder, Gwen examined the wound on Merlin’s shoulder.
“He’s been shot?!” pressing the material down to try and control the bleeding, Gwen bit her lip and supressed a cry.
“Will he be okay?” Arthur asked hurriedly, pacing back and forth restlessly
His mind had been asking the same goddamn question all the way back to Ealdor despite having appeased a drowsy Merlin with snide remarks. He worried even his small spell had done more harm than good. Gwenevere, however, seemed to gain composure as she studied the wound once more. Her breathing was steady, her expression neutral. Nodding gently, she shot him a forced smile.
“It just looks like the bullet has grazed the top of the shoulder.” Peering into the cut, she continued. “No sign of it going too deep.” She tilted her head slightly to inspect something, then gazed up at a concerned Arthur comfortingly. “Your spell to control the bleed is taking its toll well.”
Refraining from pacing, Arthur sat beside Merlin.
“You can heal him?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Not fully,” she frowned, brushing a palm over Merlin’s brow affectionately. “Merlin can do the rest once he’s conscious.”
She didn’t need to elaborate. They both knew that the odds were fortunately in their favour. The bullet hadn’t done as much damage as it could have. Not forgetting that Merlin was Emrys. He could heal himself in no time once he brok
e from the deep, healing sleep he was currently in. Glancing down at the man, Arthur’s eyes lingered on the wound. Then his eyes wavered over the face, softening as they brushed over the defined cheekbones, plump lips, long, dark eyelashes…he didn’t realise he had moved closer to Merlin, hovering extremely close. His mouth pressed gently against those lips, stealing a chaste kiss for what he thought was the last time. That’s what Merlin did to him, blurred and skewed his surroundings through sheer lust and love dare he say it. Merlin shifted his perception of everything, the only thing in the foreground Arthur truly absorbed.
Gwenevere lowered her gaze awkwardly, not wanting to ruin a private moment. The suspicions that Arthur had chosen Merlin as his lover, rumours circulating that the pair were together intimately appeared to be true. Of course, with this newfound knowledge it was a reality, Gwen would not tell a soul. She had never been the type to spread around secrets or manifest tales. Clearing her throat, she watched Arthur trace gentle circles with his forefinger around Merlin’s bare shoulder – the uninjured one. Lifting his gaze eventually, Arthur met Gwen’s flushed face. He smiled sheepishly back at her. How could he have forgotten she was there? Merlin – he cursed.
Laughing lightly, Gwen’s lips lifted into a radiant smile.
“I’m glad it’s you.”
Arthur mentally scoffed. Her voice was full of hope and honesty. She had no idea who he really was, what he used to be. His eyes lit up a little at her praise. And then his face became sad, so unbelievably sad. Noticing this, Gwen dabbed Merlin’s wound delicately and pried for an explanation delicately.
“Those people, you knew them - didn’t you?”
Standing up brusquely, Arthur nodded. Boy did he know them alright- and he knew what they were capable of. This was out of the druid’s hands now. Arthur was the only one who could do something about this. For once, he was going to do what his sister had always told him to do: fight for justice and do the right thing. Not leaving Merlin’s side, Gwen narrowed her eyes.
“Where are you going?” she asked, detecting the insistence in his brisk actions.
“Don’t worry I’ll be back.” He reassured rather blandly, unconvincingly. His eyes drifted to Merlin. “Look after him, please.”
Watching Arthur’s eyes glow with magic, Gwen interjected quickly.
“Arthur!” he turned to her in surprise. “You’re a brave man, with a good heart.”
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, poignantly. Oh no. This was not true, Gwen was the one with the good heart. His heart was black, tainted and corrupt. Then with a few muttered words, and sparkling particles of gold and silver, Arthur was gone.
♦☼♦
Opening his eyes, Arthur felt his body adjust to the new location instinctively. He was now in the one place he once felt comfortable in; Camelot Base. Now it was nothing but a large building, full of deceit and lies. Peering around the empty corridor cautiously, Arthur didn’t waste time. He silently sped down the hallway, turning sharply left when he heard voices approaching. Turning left was a big mistake. Walking in front of him were two people he certainly didn’t want to see: Valiant and Cedric. All it would take was for one of them to look over their shoulders briefly, and his cover would be blown. Quickly, he backed into the nearest alcove. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to calm down his body. Panic was flooding through his system. The weight of everything that had happened hit him hard. The bulldozer was ploughing through the forest. It had opened fire against them, against Merlin without a second thought. And Arthur knew exactly why, six months had passed. No negotiation had been made. The consequences of the secret agenda were revealing themselves. It was all over. Cedric and Valiant’s voices flooded through his ears, they were turning around, moving past the alcove he was squeezed into.
He was too distraught to filter out sound into distinguishable words. The moment their voices faded round the corner, he opened his eyes and slipped out of the alcove.
Walking in a rather paranoid fashion down the corridor, he continued his mission. He needed to find the one person he could trust - Morgana. Leon had no doubt been roped into this whole agenda somehow, probably against his own knowledge. Uther was remarkably good at being a cunning, secretive leader when he wanted to be. His poor friend had probably been told lies and deceived. Cautiously, Arthur scanned the hallway for security cameras, relieved is father had shown him the initial layout of the place. It gave him at least one advantage. Nonetheless, he felt extremely vulnerable around here. It wasn’t as if he could disguise himself (he’d barely even mastered the invisibility spell Merlin had tried to teach him) he was Arthur fucking Pendragon. Every person here knew exactly what he looked like. Every person here knew what he had done- he’d left the business, he’d given up and become a druid. One wrong move, and that was it. Hell, they could even take him to the labs now.
Glancing up at the signs, hands sweaty, Arthur took the next right down a dimly lit passage-
-A pair of arms grabbed Arthur from behind, spinning him backwards. At fist he raised his arms, about to strike. Then his eyes met the dark-haired woman, her face misted over with fear. She hastily dragged him into one of the rooms leading off the corridor, locking it behind her. Before he could fully process the second emotion embedded in her eyes, Morgana threw her arms tightly around him, pulling him close.
“Uther’s gone crazy,” she whispered in his ear as he caressed her dark curls in relief that his sister was safe. “He’s gearing up for war, they’re going to attack the Ealdor clan, and destroy the Crystal Cave.”
Arthur stiffened, body growing numb. Releasing him from her grasp, she met his concerned expression. Arthur leant towards her, desperate and wild.
“Y-You are certain of this?” he asked slowly, the world around him becoming hazy, a little too overwhelming at the mere prospect of everything he ever feared becoming reality.
He should have taken his father’s words more seriously. He should have somehow stopped the whole fucking project from getting this far. Six months down the line, Arthur Pendragon had done nothing but indulge in his own fantasies and escapism. Morgana nodded darkly, confirming the horrific truth. Her eyes were wide and watery.
“I heard he and Morgause discussing it.”
Turning away from Morgana, Arthur paced back and forth irritably. Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to protect Merlin and his people from all of this. He was supposed to negotiate their terms of moving. But they’d never move. This whole project was doomed from the start – he should have established that far sooner than he did. Merlin. The memory of the unconscious state he’d been in when he left troubled him. Angrily he lashed out at the table, knocking it over furiously. It landed with a mighty crashed, the contents spilling over the floor. Morgana gazed towards the door anxiously before scolding him.
“What are you doing?!” she hissed. “If anyone sees you Arthur you’ll be-”
“-I don’t care. I…aaah.” He tried to calm down, he really did. But it was no longer an option. “I have to go back and warn them,” he pressed a hand to his throbbing temple. “If they stay they’ll –Merlin- they’ll…” he took a breath to try and compose himself again. “die.”
“I’ll come with you.” Morgana said resolutely.
“No.” He snapped, and spoke quickly before she could unleash her rage against his likely reasoning. “I need someone on the inside I can trust.”
Walking towards the heavily armoured wall, Arthur scanned the weapons and devices carefully, calmly. He could not afford to panic now and throw away any chance of saving his home, his people, his friends. The only hope they had was a strategy of some kind. His eyes met what he was looking for. Arthur picked up the device, handing it to her and taking one for himself.
“Contact me on this.”
Voices sounded from outside, unnerving the pair. It was Arthur’s cue to leave. He knew the longer he stayed, the more danger he would put Ealdor and himself in. As he darted out the door, Morgana followed
swiftly.
“Arthur, be careful please…” her voice drenched in sincerity; the usual sarcasm was nowhere to be found. Arthur didn’t like it; it proved that this wonderful dream had become a nightmare. “You’re like a brother to me.”
Halting in his tracks, Arthur’s lips upturned at the irony of her words. Oh- if only she knew the truth. If only he had the heart to tell her. As much as he desired to, now was not the time for family affairs. He couldn’t tell her that she had magic, that she was Uther Pendragon’s daughter – and then disappear. No, this was something that unfortunately had to wait. Now was the time to try and get the people to evacuate before his father destroyed everything.
Assuming the smile on his lips was for other reasons, (perhaps a fragment of their usual banter of pride and complacency) Morgana pinched him gently, a small smirk emanating.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I couldn’t bear anything happening to you.”
The smile faded as the words sunk in. It reminded Arthur that this was all very much a reality, people could get hurt – Merlin already had been – people could die. And if he didn’t go back to Ealdor soon and get them all to move, their blood would be on his hands, not his father’s. This was his fault. This had been his agenda, his responsibility had been to try and move the druids away. He had failed severely; the consequences of his actions were truly grave. Swallowing-hard, the blonde raked a hand through his hair, a grimace dusting his features.
“Morgana…there are things in this world…” I am responsible for this. “Things that I…” I did this. I caused this. Casting his eyes down feebly to the ground, unable to continue, Arthur blinked rapidly. Remorse clouded over him. It hadn’t even begun, yet he knew if it did – when it all did, it was his fault.
“Morgana this…”
Morgana’s warm smooth hands intertwined with his own, softly kneading the skin with her thumbs. It was as if she understood what he wanted to say. Gazing into her weary eyes, Arthur found that she too had a story, a story he had neglected, been selfish to ignore. Despite different stories, their minds were fixated on the same thing: Uther Pendragon; Ealdor.
