by GR Griffin
All of a sudden, Merlin found himself pushed down brutally. His head hit the rocky ground hard. The pain was enough to stall his magic, prevent him from acting quickly. Uther hoisted him up by his shirt, dropping him back down viciously. Merlin wheezed at the assault, attempting to roll groggily out of the way of Uther’s boots. Regaining a little strength, his eyes flashed gold. Uther dived out of the way of a bright jet of sapphire light. Swiftly he pulled out a new gun from his belt, pointing it at Merlin.
“If you move, you’re finished, Druid scum.” He warned.
Outstretching his palm calmly, Merlin raised his eyebrows. He slowly propelled himself onto his fee.
“If you shoot then believe me,” There was a twisted sense of amusement on the Druid’s face.
“You’re finished.”
♦☼♦
Aithusa ploughed through the air. As a helicopter approached, she breathed blue flames around it. Arthur continued to fight, despite the floods of sobs threatening to overpower his system. Morgana, Gwen…the people. They had all been so cruelly taken away, forever. Dodging the machine’s explosion, they swerved past Kilgarrah. The sight shocked Arthur, breaking him from his thoughts for a moment. Kilgarrah was flying alone, without a rider. More specifically, Merlin wasn’t there. The golden Dragon left their presence in seconds. Panic and fear rushed through Arthur. Where was he, was he fallen? In seconds his breathing was unsteady, nausea overcoming his system. So many had died he couldn’t bear any more. His eyes searched frantically around the sky. Merlin. Merlin! A few metres away he spotted sight of Will and his Wyvern. Pushing Aithusa in that direction, he called out over the thundering noise around them.
“WILL!” He shouted.
The Druid on his Wyvern soared closer to him, alarmed by the look of fear on the Once and Future’s face. Hovering beside Aithusa, Will gazed imploringly over to the man.
“Merlin’s gone.” he gasped, flustered by this fact. The adrenaline of war and destruction made him think nothing but the worst.
Gritting his teeth, Will steered his Wyvern skilfully away from a potential hit. Aithusa absently spewed fire at the opponent, biding time for the pair to speak. Will spared a glance up to the great Dragon in the sky.
“How can he be gone?!” he replied, not at all pacifying Arthur.
Swallowing-hard, Arthur gripped Excalibur tightly.
“I don’t know…what if…” Will heard the distressed element to his voice. “What if he’s-”
“-No.” The Druid snapped in response, refusing to allow this negativity to roam. Taken-aback by Will’s determination, Arthur stared pensively at him. “You know Merlin better than anyone.”
Shaking his head, the blonde raked a hand through his hair chaotically.
“That’s not true. You’ve known him all your life.”
“Just think!” Will raised his voice seriously, not willing to spar with Arthur here of all places over petty matters such as this. That time had come and gone a while ago. “Think about where he’d go, what he’d do for us…” pause. His eyes softened. “For you.”
Those words triggered a horrific idea in Arthur’s mind. Once it settled there, he couldn’t throw it out. His eyes flashed with dark realisation. Nodding at Will silently, he grimaced. Merlin, Merlin. Of course. The idiot. He had gone to face Uther, gone to save Arthur from more heartbreak and pain. Swiftly the pair of them parted ways in the air, Will and Fullmægen attacking the nearest craft that threatened Aithusa and Arthur’s descent down to Mt Breguoin. Come Aithusa! Faster. We have to get to Merlin! Acknowledging that this was crucial, the Dragon dove downwards at a deadly velocity.
They landed on the edge of Mt Breguoin, dust scattering around them at the sheer force of Aithusa’s wings. The dust was thick and scratched at his eyes. Covering them for a second, Arthur slowly pushed forwards. Aithusa growled into the sky ominously, remaining close behind Arthur. Then there was a loud bang. It resonated through the mountain. A gunshot. Eyes wide, heart racing, Arthur plunged forwards frenziedly. A wild panic consumed him as he spotted two figures. One was standing; the other was on the ground. Tears framed his eyes, a deep rage boiling inside of him as his hazy vision came back into focus.
His father was the one standing, gun in hand.
“MERLIN! NO!”
Arthur stared at the man on the ground, overwhelmed with shock. The corners of his vision darkened, his head spun. He felt dizzy, sick. Yet still he sprinted with as much strength and vigour he could muster towards him. His breath caught in his throat forcefully, legs quivering as he ran. Merlin was lying there. Merlin of all people. His Merlin had been hurt.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Will snapped angrily, not caring that he was addressing a Clan Leader in such a rude way. “Where the fuck is he?!” His eyes locked on Arthur Pendragon who was lurching forwards slightly.
“Can’t you see what you’ve become?” Uther said accusingly. At the words, Arthur inhaled raggedly and took a pace forward. “You have been taken from me, turned against me. The magic of this land has changed you, destroyed you.”
“Magic has changed me,” Arthur admitted, mimicking his father’s actions and trailing his feet around the circle they’d created. “But not in the way that you think. It has opened my eyes to the world, to your crimes.”
You must hurry Arthur, this is it! Their defences are falling; their men are retreating! If you defeat Uther, we have won for sure.
Chapter 54
“MERLIN! NO!”
Arthur stared at the man on the ground, overwhelmed with shock. The corners of his vision darkened, his head spun. He felt dizzy, sick. Yet still he sprinted with as much strength and vigour he could muster towards him. His breath caught in his throat forcefully, legs quivering as he ran. Merlin was lying there. Merlin of all people. His Merlin had been hurt. It was too much. Skidding down beside Merlin, he gently cupped his face. A pallid complexion had overcome Merlin’s skin. It had a sickly, waxen tint, his eyelids were heavy and lazy against his will. His whole was shaking, whether this was out of shock or exhaustion Arthur was unsure. Gently, Arthur moved his palm over across the burning forehead, beaded with sweat, the other reached out for his hand which was so cold. Arthur tried to look hopeful, he really did. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to let Merlin know that this was really fucking bad. But Merlin, he looked like he was dead. The only difference between him and a corpse was that he was breathing.
A virulent laugh escaped Merlin’s lips, clearly noticing the look on the blonde’s face. Arthur turned to Aithusa pleadingly. Holding back his upset, Arthur met those sapphire eyes silently. The Dragon moved closer, glancing down at her master. Can’t you do something Aithusa?! Arthur begged in his head. He glanced over Merlin’s head to where Uther was standing, silently. He seemed unfazed, not making any motion to act or open fire. In a twisted way it seemed he was allowing Arthur time to talk to Merlin. Arthur willingly took that chance. Fingers gently stroking through Merlin’s hair, he groaned in aggravation. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this surely wasn’t how it all ended.
“Merlin-”
“-Arthur…” All of a sudden, the man in his arms became animated, restless. His eyes flashed gold as if trying to protect him. Arthur didn’t have the energy to be touched by this gesture; he was more concerned for the man’s welfare. Merlin’s eyes gazed around wildly. They landed on Uther. As they did, he hastily tried to escape Arthur’s vice grip to face the man. His eyes flashed gold once again, sending a slight twinge of pain through Arthur’s hands. Reluctantly, Arthur removed his hands to rid himself of the sting. Merlin tried to stand up, but simply toppled over clumsily again. Instinctively, Arthur’s eyes flashed silver, pressing him down softly when he tried to get up again. There was a look of steel in his eyes. Don’t be a fool Merlin. At these words, Merlin attempted to laugh. It was a broken sound.
“…shouldn’t have come here.” He inhaled a deep breath, hand clutching his chest.
It was clear he was addressi
ng Arthur rather than himself.
“You’re right,” Arthur replied, unable to remove the tremble from his voice despite attempting to feign nonchalance. “But I expected no less from an idiot like yourself.”
A small smile twitched over Merlin’s face at the attempted joke before he lost consciousness. It was then Arthur saw a strange, peculiar glow protruding from the wound. He’d never seen a wound quite like it. Come to mention it, now he was actually looking, there was no blood anywhere. There were no signs of a hit at all. Yet he had been hit. He’d heard the shot, seen Merlin fall. Narrowing his eyes, he got back onto his feet. This wasn’t right. They were missing something. He held Excalibur firmly in his hands, swinging it side to side threateningly whilst stalking forwards.
The man in front of him raised his head, lowering the weapon in his hand. They stood a few metres from each other. Uther gazed upon his son, a curious glint in his eyes. Arthur had certainly changed. Here he was fussing over a Druid, brandishing a sword of all things and flying magical creatures. He was dressed in Druid attire; simple clothing that hardly revealed his true self. Uther wondered how Arthur could bear to belittle himself so much, stoop down to the Druids level. He had seen the flash of silver in his son’s eyes many times now. It hurt to see. Arthur had magic. Arthur had been truly lost to the Druids, misled by their ways. Endeavouring to address the man calmly, Arthur glanced back at Merlin.
“What have you done to him?” He asked slowly.
“Fear not Arthur, soon the enchantment will be broken, and you will be returned to me.”
An unpleasant laugh escaped Arthur’s mouth, one of dark amusement. So his father was still blinded by his hatred of magic, that much was clear. As he registered the declaration, his composure faded. Wavering his gaze between Merlin and his father, he felt his heart accelerate rapidly in his burning chest. His gaze landed solely on his father. A minute trace of a triumphant smile slithered over Uther Pendragon’s lips. That was it. Arthur exploded. He charged forwards, eyes blazing with a raw inferno that could not be satiated.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM?!”
Unaffected by the attempted extortion, Uther took a step forwards towards his son, acting as a mere observer. Aithusa’s alluring voice entered Arthur’s mind.
Emrys is still alive. Whatever he’s done, it has no signs of real potency yet. I will watch over him for you. But you must hurry Arthur, this is it! Their defences are falling; their men are retreating! If you defeat Uther, we have won for sure.
Defeat. Arthur ground his teeth together, vexed. The implications of that word all led to one imminent ending. Uther reached for his gun, pulling it closer. His intentions were clear.
“Can’t you see what you’ve become?” he said accusingly, gesturing over to the Dragon and Merlin. At the words, Arthur inhaled raggedly and took a pace forward. “You have been taken from me, turned against me. The magic of this land has changed you, destroyedyou.”
“Magic has changed me,” Arthur admitted, mimicking his father’s actions and trailing his feet around the circle they’d created. “But not in the way that you think. It has opened my eyes to the world, to your crimes.”
Snarling, Uther shook his head severely.
“You have betrayed everything, you have disgraced Camelot!”
“You have disgraced mankind.” Arthur retaliated. “Camelot is responsible for the death innocent lives, the devastation to homes and broken families. You have just murdered thousands of children-” His voice cracked octaves as he found himself unable to mask his sorrow at the obliteration of Iaonam.
“-Druids!” Uther hissed back, his prejudice blinding him more than Arthur had ever seen.
“People.” He corrected, sorrow quickly dissolving into disgust. “I know you’re not a soldier or a leader. You’re not even a father,” he averted Uther’s eyes as he spoke, feeling the rage radiating off him. He took a step forwards, pushing his sword into his belt. “You’re just a business man in a suit who’s allowed his own personal grief to overrule his judgement and perception.” As he spoke, he felt his own resentment rise. Every feeling in his body was now vulnerably exposed. Too weary to draw it all back in, Arthur helplessly watched them spiral around him.
“You sacrificed my mother, you sent Gaius to the labs, you’ve even opened fire on your son…and now Morgana is…” choking back a sob, his managed to utter the last word. “dead-”
Eyes wide, Uther lunged forwards, shock clear on his face.
“-No.” the man breathed, and the word stung.
Wretchedly, Arthur nodded. Saying it aloud made it a reality. Arthur felt his knees buckle. He dueled dangerously for balance. He lost the duel. A wrenching sensation twisted and turned inside of his body. It knotted in his stomach, tugged at his vanquished heart. It hammered against his head. Morgana. Morgana. His sister. His best friend. His world. The sensation reached its optimum level. An excruciating burn flooded into his system. These children, the people, Morgana – they died cruelly. If there were one thing Arthur knew Morgana would ask him to do, it would be to stop this madness before it took more lives.
Opening his eyes abruptly, Arthur pulled himself up from the ground. As he gazed over to his father, he saw something foreign. The man held a hand to his mouth, shaking his head silently. He wallowed in what Arthur hoped was overriding guilt and remorse. Not that he deserved to mourn over people he had callously cast aside. For his sake, Arthur hoped it fucking hurt because the inner turmoil wrecking havoc inside of his body was slowly crushing his soul. He hoped his father felt the fire inside, burning him, searing through his blood. He hoped it purged every last inch of strength. Holding Excalibur with newfound intrepidity, Arthur addressed him.
“It is no wonder the people who once cared about you have turned their backs to your blackening heart.” Uther remained silent, feeling his emotions deceive him and surface on his face. Watching the torment and misery merge on his father’s face, Arthur continued steadily.
“Enough people have died, on both sides. Now we can stand here and fight each other until one of us dies. Or,” he could hear Aithusa’s scolding tone in his head, but he spoke his mind nonetheless. “We can put a stop to this.” He gazed longingly at his father. “I will grant you mercy, if you promise to leave and never return.”
Studying his son, Uther remained cryptically quiet. They continued to walk around each other deceptively. Arthur knew offering to set his father free was dangerous, particularly when the word ‘promise’ was involved. Nonetheless, Uther appeared to be stirring over the proposition. Or not.
“I cannot return without oil, without results. Camelot will fall.”
“Camelot should fall, or at least your gluttonous legacy should. There were many places to mine in Albion for resources without causing death and destruction. Yet you decided to do just that. You’ve ripped the hearts out of thousands of people, tainted this beautiful land. The blood of my mother and my sister is on your hands. For that, I can never forgive you.” With that, he took out his sword and held it in front of him. His eyes darkened sadistically. “Never.”
“Then you leave me no choice.” Uther said bitterly, astounding Arthur at the words.
Gazing down at his feet, Arthur frowned. He’d been so focused on Uther and what he had to say that he hadn’t noticed they had strayed away from where they once stood. He examined their surroundings. They were now close to the edge of Mt Breguoin, too close. As Arthur surveyed Uther Pendragon’s face, he saw something new in those eyes. It was something he couldn’t place. Drawing his eyebrows together in confusion, he held the gaze. Almost resignedly, Uther offered his son a wistful smile. Comprehension dawned upon Arthur. His father began to walk backwards. Swallowing-hard, Arthur took slow steps forward, afraid if he lunged it would disrupt the events that were simmering in the cauldron of fate. His father began to walk towards the edge.
They shared a silent exchange that had only occurred a few times in all Arthur’s life between them. He recalled the first
time; he had been just three. Morg and he were playing together outside. It was cold. He remembered breathing on Morg and declaring the visible puff of air was his dragon-fire (to his relief, Uther hadn’t heard the magical reference). Then he’d climbed too high to prove his stubborn sister wrong. He’d fallen. Uther, who had been on the phone doing ‘Camelot’ things as he had called it, hung up without a moment’s thought. He’d rushed over to his son and cradled his head with those black leather gloves. That night, he’d said three words Arthur would rarely hear again from him: I love you. Breaking the eye contact, Uther crushed his teeth together.
“I will not die by the hand of my own son.”
Arthur no longer saw a tyrant who had charred this land with weapons and fire, left deep, untreated scars in the earth. He no longer saw the oppressor who had been the face of the Magical Containment Act, ensuring Druids outside of Albion were taken to laboratories and treated hideously. He no longer saw the self-proclaiming villain. He saw one thing: his father. The man who had once cradled him in his arms when he had been scared after Morgana’s nightmares, the man who had walked him to school, the man who had raised him. He saw his father. And fuck that just did it.
Gasping for air, Arthur threw his sword to the ground behind him. With urgency he reached out his hand, too far to enclose a fist around the man’s shirt and haul him back to safety. The distance grew wider, too far. All of a sudden he felt closer to his father than he’d ever been. Paradoxically he also felt the furthest, and it was tragic.
“-Father.” His voice was low, cautionary; like a man in control. But Arthur wasn’t in control; Arthur wasn’t pulling the strings here. Fuck. Uther was. Uther Pendragon was fucking in control. The man continued to walk backwards, until he hit the end of the mountainside. Arthur moved closer desperately. He watched the back of the man’s feet slither slowly off the stone. His voice betrayed him, full of despair.