by GR Griffin
The sensation of warm skin brushing against his fingers arrived in less than two quick heartbeats, clasping his hand. Weakly, he moved his stinging eyes over to the source of this intense, burning heat. The face was still blurred and he was so frustrated that he can’t see it because he really does want to see it again. He hearda string of words calling out to him; that voice was gently speaking to him. He was incapable of untangling the cluttered syllables, the consonants from the vowels, and the words from the sentences. It was all too much. Before his vision completely failed him, he realised that the sun had created a golden halo around the blurred head.
That was enough reassurance to know that he was safe and that the name was here with him. He felt his body pushing against his mind. He didn’t want to leave this world again; he’d only just found it again. He attempted to wrestle against his own body, which proved unproductive. The warmth by his hand spread to his forehead, and then back to his hand. The face muttered something in a smooth voice. It lulled him gently into the darkness.
This time he wasn’t falling; he was patiently floating on a sapphire sky in a wooden boat, waiting to be called back to reality once his body had recovered.
♦☼♦
Merlin was dazed, disorientated. That much was clear. Arthur had lunged forwards the moment that small noise had slipped past the man’s lips, indicating consciousness had returned. So had everyone else too, excited and relieved that Merlin was okay. The man lying on the makeshift bed looked far from well. His eyes were unfocused and glazed over. The fact he was squinted gestured he was having trouble with his senses. Arthur had reached for his hand and soothingly caressed it. Merlin made a noise, trying to reach him. A soft smile laced Arthur’s mouth. Merlin was alive; he was going to be okay. It was then that Merlin shut his eyes and slipped back into darkness.
“He’s going to be like this for most of the day,” Gaius offered, after shooing the surplus amount of visitors from Merlin’s bedside, leaving only Arthur, Hunith, Gwen and Morgana. Arthur kept his hand on Merlin’s protectively, gazing down at the dark-haired man. Stirring a mixture together on the workbench, Gaius continued in a tone of voice that soothed Arthur. Gaius sounded more like himself, less on edge and full of assurance. It was good to see, for the first time in months there was no oncoming threats or consequences. Now it seemed, they were close to the end of this great battle.
“He will be slipping in and out of consciousness.” Gaius noticed the concern sliding back onto Arthur’s face and spoke once more. A hand pressed into Arthur’s shoulder. Glancing up, he met Gaius’ kind eyes. “The illness has been stopped now Arthur, this is simply his body recovering from all it faced.”
With that, Gaius made his way back to the workbench. It was then that Gwen got to her feet.
“You should rest.” She said to Gaius, the rare sternness in her voice revealing it wasn’t a suggestion but more of an imperative. Raising an eyebrow, Gaius glanced between the woman who had helped him nurture Merlin the past few days and his patient, nephew, and beloved Merlin. She noticed the hesitance and smiled. “He will be fine. We will watch over him, you have barely slept the past few days.”
“Gwenevere is right,” Arthur admitted, taking his eyes off Merlin for a minute. “You have done so much for him. Please, get some rest old friend.”
Nodding, Gaius cast his eyes once more over towards Merlin before leaving the area resignedly. Arthur could see his body relaxing as he walked, the fatigue slipping over the old man. It had been a hard few days for everyone. There had been no rest after the battle for many. Hunith sat beside Arthur, face warm and eyes restored to what they once had been before the destruction of Ealdor. She didn’t need to say it aloud; Arthur understood and gently placed a hand around her shoulder comfortingly.
“I knew you would find it.” She whispered into his shoulder.
Gazing down at the woman, Arthur felt his lips twitch with a warm smile. The poor woman had seen too much suffering than fair. She was a kind, just woman, an inspiration. She had helped Arthur find his mother again. In the space of a month she had lost her husband, watched her home burn and have to deal with the prospect of possibly losing her only child. William had been like a son to her too, Arthur knew that much. Hunith had not taken Will’s death well at all, nor did Gwen. It made Arthur fearful as to how Merlin would take it. Will was his best friend; they were like brothers. Hunith seemed to establish where Arthur’s trail of thoughts was leading, and she gently reached for the hand on her shoulder, clasping it. Somehow, the thoughts departed from Arthur at her touch.
Hunith’s words seemed to bring Morgana back to the world of the present. Her glassy eyes became more animated, more life-like. Arthur tried to hide his concern; he knew his sister had been spending too much time mastering her gifts. Merlin’s words of wisdom rang through his ears as he studied his sister’s face. It was Gwen’s voice that broke him from his stare.
“Was it hard to find?” the woman asked eagerly, finally meeting Arthur’s eyes.
Affection and gratitude was emanating from Gwen’s eyes. At the words Arthur scoffed. Hard to find, now that was the understatement of the fucking year. If only they knew all he’d been through to get that stupid yellow flower. It had been a whole new adventure, although every day in Albion seemed like a new adventure. He was learning more and more each day. Not the mention the terrible battle that had passed less than four days ago. Now was not the time to think about the battle. Now was the time to focus on the present, the new age…the day Merlin was going to be okay and nothing could prevent this from being true. Knowing that, Arthur allowed himself to ease into the new atmosphere. A grin spread over his face, instantly adding a glow to his weary face.
“You have no idea,” At the words, Gwen subconsciously leant forwards. “It was a bit like Godzilla actually now I think about it.”
“Godzilla?” Hunith appeared confused; Morgana smirked at the reference, apparently back with the world of the living and communicating. She hadn’t said a word yet though, not a word to Arthur. He tried to pretend this didn’t concern him, but it did. For once, he thought to himself, can you stop thinking like a bloody masochist and just enjoy this moment of peace? He’d grieved enough; he’d hurt enough. Surely it was time to put those emotions to rest, and bring to the surface the ones he’d longed to feel genuinely for weeks.
“It’s a giant monster…thing back in our world.” Arthur clarified vaguely. He shot his sister a threatening glare as she leant back in delight at his stuttering. Then noticing the alarm on Hunith’s face, Arthur quickly elaborated. “Erm, it’s strictly fictional. It was in a film.” Pause; Hunith still seemed entirely confused, clearly not accustomed to the word film. Two blinks later, fondness in his eyes, Arthur continued. “Anyway, so Aithusa and I met a Basilisk when we reached Ealdor stop laughing Morgana it’s not funny-”
“-A Basilisk of all things. This is priceless,” Morgana’s eyes lit up in glee and she turned to Gwen. “Arthur’s been afraid of Basilisk’s since he was a little boy. He used to make me check his whole room before he’d-”
“-Alright Morgana,” Arthur said through gritted teeth; she was enjoying the irony far too much. “We battled the Basilisk, well Aithusa did and then she got bitten so it was up to me. I don’t know how but somehow I managed to kill the damn thing. And then as I went into the cave there were baby Basilisks, three of them. I was stupid enough not to notice until they actually appeared, could barely tell the broken Crystals from the eggshells.”
The word Crystal ignited a subtle change in Morgana. Her smiled faded. The expression on her face was one Arthur couldn’t decipher, which unnerved him. Calculatedly she leant towards Arthur, eyes glinting with an almost knowing quality. Swallowing-hard, Arthur removed his arm from Hunith’s shoulder to clasp his hands together patiently.
“How exactly did you find the flower? I mean something so small in a cave that big-”
“-There wasn’t much left of the Crystal Cave, I’m sure I don’t n
eed to explain why.” Arthur snapped a little petulantly, ignoring Morgana’s sly tilt of her head.
“All I’m asking is how you found it, no need to be so defensive-” But no she wasn’t asking that at all, Arthur wasn’t stupid. He understood her implications.
“-Remind me how exactly you killed Morgause?” he asked in response immediately silencing her. Two could play at that fucking game.
As soon as he said it he instantly regretted it, damn him and his instincts. Morgana never failed to bring out the best and worst in him. Gwen averted her gaze slowly, bowing her head. The tension around grew to an unbearable level. Morgana clenched her jaw tightly, eyes watery. It was a low blow, yes, but then Morgana shouldn’t have really been playing word games with him after all this. For a moment the pair shared a look unlike any they had shared before. Morgana smiled a little to take the edge of her sharp eyes. It didn’t really help. Arthur attempted to offer a silent apology, slipping it through the spaces between them. That didn’t really help much either.
It was at that moment, to Arthur’s relief, that Gaius appeared from the entrance to the small clearing. He cast a look over to a resting Merlin before fixing his attention on Arthur.
“The Clan leaders have requested to speak with you.” Hell, right now Arthur didn’t need to be told twice, anything to escape the thick tension growing between him and his sister. He leapt onto his feet, casting Merlin one final, fleeting glance before dashing out of the clearing and into the busy, bustling Iaonem.
♦☼♦
Iaonem was cluttered with Druids. The whole settlement was brimming with tranquillity, peace and happiness that Arthur hadn’t even dared to dream of many weeks ago. How so much had changed. As he passed through the Druids, many stopped to bow their heads in respect, others warmly pressed their palms against his skin in some kind of symbolical gesture of something Arthur supposed could be likened to gratitude. Then there were the children, some bashfully diving out of way whilst others remained motionless indignantly until they received some kind of reaction from their hero. Hero. Arthur disliked the word. Hero, it was such a misleading word.
It was only when he spotted Calhoun, the brave-hearted orphan Gwen had taken to, that Arthur noticed something was amiss in Iaonem. Calhoun was standing with Lancelot who was engrossed in carrying items, dismantling the makeshift homes around him. Many Druids had satchels slung over their backs, the belongings they had brought to the resistance all bundled up inside or in their hands. Some Druids had already summoned their Wyverns to the large trees hovering above the clearing. The creatures sat on the branches until they were needed, watching observantly. Arthur frowned; it was barely midday. Reaching the heart of the settlement, Arthur found himself churning against multitudes of people all moving and all too busy to notice who he was or to allow him to pass.
The familiarity of golden scales scintillating against the blinding sunlight was the only landmark he had in the crowd of people. After a few minutes of pushing through the bundle, Arthur made it to the other side. Gasping for air, for space, Arthur held one hand to his hip as he took in the scene before him. Kilgarrah; Aithusa, the Clan leaders were all stood before him. He also noticed Gwaine standing between Topia and Elätha shamelessly despite the fact he was certainly not a Clan Leader. He met Gwaine’s eyes, a playful exchange unfolded between them through subtle shifts of the lips. Then, Arthur turned to the leaders, studying all of them curiously, unable to figure out their motive for this ‘council’ – if that’s what it was called.
“Friends,” he said, bowing his head towards them; he was surprised as they returned the gesture. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that many of the Druids look like they are making leave.”
Eloŵen of the Serepolis Clan spoke first, his peculiar cerise eyes earning a rose-tint in the rays of the sun.
“Albion is safe, Emrys is safe. Now we can return to our homes and embrace the age of Emrys and the Once and Future.” A little stunned at the devotion in the man’s voice, and the fact that apparently he and Merlin had created a new age, Arthur found he had no words.
It was logical of course, Iaonem was never supposed to be a permanent settlement. And there was no point in the Druids inhabiting just one segment of Albion. Each clan had different traditions, habits and ways of life. Whilst they had all put this aside for the mutual interest of protecting their world, the small frictions were beginning to show. The Freignt Clan, for instance, were reserved and calm. The Balegkor Clan were outspoken and loved to sing (badly). The Čeirda clan were solitary Druids, who attempted to disengage with others; the Ealdor Clan were a shadow of their jolly selves, just beginning to revive their livelihood. Of course, Arthur knew they all would be returning to their homes. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon.
He also knew that this would no doubt trouble the Ealden people, because they no longer had a place to call home. Ealdor was gone; it was all gone. Flickering his gaze between the Clan Leaders, Arthur smiled.
“It has been an honour,” he admitted. “I wish you safe passage back to your homes, and pray we all meet again,” Topia’s eyes twinkled with amusement and Arthur suddenly established he might have articulated himself poorly. “I mean,” he began quickly. “In different circumstances of course.”
Cheeks a little flushed, he sighed. Why wasn’t Merlin up and ready to do these kinds of things? He was much better at formalities, at Druid etiquette. Arthur mostly made a mess of it. He was still learning what was insulting to Druids and what wasn’t. To his relief, he only saw raw smiles and soft eyes gazing back at him. Ysěult stepped forwards.
“You forget what you have done for us.” She said, eyes scanning Arthur’s bewildered face. “You have saved us all,” Her smooth lips brushed against his cheek. “We will never forget what you have done. The Balegkor Clan will always be loyal to Ealdor.”
With that her and her son, Rægan, left Arthur’s presence. Keita followed closely behind them, rounding up the Balegkor Clan to depart from Iaonem. Laurys and Allios, the stern-faced, aged but nonetheless pleasant leaders of the Dresdentian Clan were the next to bid their goodbyes. Iseldir said nothing as he cryptically walked past Arthur Pendragon to lead his clan home, though Arthur hadn’t really expected words from the seers. Following that, a dozen other Clan Leaders bid their goodbyes, their Clan swiftly leaving Iaonem. Ryol and his beautiful wife Ïalvy reluctantly bid their goodbyes to the Once and Future. Laísrean and Nolwenn of the Œpontei clan were next.
Arthur wasn’t surprised when the only people left standing in front of him were Topia, Evanna, Elätha and of course Gwaine. Instead of bidding goodbyes however, Elätha glanced over to Gwaine before speaking in a low voice.
“Before we leave, there is something we need to discus.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, Leon and Lancelot appeared, standing beside the small group. Arthur, a little confused and stunned at the admission, glanced between the friends. He nodded, trailing after them as they walked to the outskirts of the settlement, where they were less likely to be heard. Kilgarrah and Aithusa didn’t join them, which Arthur assumed was because they could probably hear it from where they were, or because it wasn’t necessary to. As Arthur studied his friend’s faces, he grimaced. Evanna was wearing her concealing smile, the one she had used when Merlin and Arthur had first visited Ghedent. Gwaine wasn’t even trying to smile, despite the fact he and Topia were sat remarkably closer together than Arthur had ever seen them.
“What is it?” he asked, unable to bear the morbid expressions any longer. Honestly.
“Despite the Elders attempts to talk us out of it,” Topia began cautiously, catching the rugged man’s eyes beside her, “we took the weapon up to Iaonam to examine it.”
“We wanted to try and bide you some more time,” Leon added. “We thought perhaps if we found something Gaius would be able to slow the process.”
“Bloody good idea it was too,” Gwaine retorted with a smirk. “You took your time.”
Stifling a chuckle a
t his friend’s taunting words, Arthur leant against one of the stones. The group were silent for a moment, as if unsure how to word their findings. It was obvious they had found something- that much was clear. Topia opened her mouth twice, and then shut it promptly as if she regarded the words in her head as useless. Gwaine shuffled a little awkwardly in his seat, his smirk dwindling into an echo. It was Elätha who spoke up and delivered what the rest wanted to say.
“When we observed the gun, there were traces of dark magic on the gun. At first we all assumed it was just that, dark magic. But it wasn’t.” these words really did gain Arthur’s interest. He pushed himself off the rock, standing upright and full of inquisitiveness.
“We think the gun was induced with Naemon magic-”
“-Naiimen?” Arthur asked, furrowing his brows together. The Naiimen were…good weren’t they? He knew barely anything about them but Merlin had always spoken of them in reverence. Topia interjected suddenly.
“Naemon.” She corrected and Arthur hummed absently. The Druids seemed to enjoy giving two different things similar names. He assumed the Naemon were not good. Although he didn’t know much about Naiimen, Naemon – he knew one thing: they lived hundreds of years ago. That didn’t seem to fit with what Topia had just said.
“The Naemon were rumoured to live at the time of the Naiimen. They were dark Druids, they practised the blackest of all magic. It was said that they were all wiped out in a great battle-”
“-and I suppose this…find suggests otherwise?” Arthur frowned as Topia confirmed his suspicions with a weak nod.
“It suggests that there are still people who practice this magic, who have been taught the Naemon ways.” Evanna shuddered at the thought, listening as her husband spoke. “The fact that your father knew about it means perhaps he was planning something far worse, or Morgause was.”
“Morgause.”
“We think she was the one who tampered with the weapon and put the magic there.” Leon supplied, cupping his face.