by GR Griffin
Observing the man, Arthur felt an ironic smile tug his lips; great power, great responsibility- didn’t that sound very familiar. A sudden urge to tell Merlin everything erupted inside of him. What would Merlin say if he ever knew of the secret agenda? Would he be forgiven? His father would surely disown him if it failed. Arthur liked to pretend that he was in Ealdor because he belonged there, not because he was ordered to belong there by his father with a hidden agenda. No. Panic flashed through his eyes and he was grateful Merlin was currently too engulfed in thought to notice. He couldn’t tell Merlin. It was too risky. He had to wait until he’d made his affirmation as one of the People, then they may all respect him enough to realise he was telling the truth, and leave safely. Once his Eftboren was complete – he could get them to move. But what if they didn’t move? Just thinking about the future made him sick, his vision blur, his pulse race. It was too much.
Beside Arthur, Merlin was toiling in his own troubles. Emrys. That was his destiny. Merlin tried to shrug the heavy name off, but it clung to him. His guard must have been pretty low because Arthur was fluently reading thought after thought running through his open mind.
“I know what it’s like you know…to have a destiny you,” searching the stars, Arthur grimaced. “A destiny you can’t escape.”
Though now, it felt like he was evading that destiny more and more each day. That’s what scared him. He feared one day it was going to pop out of nowhere and loom over him. Then the only thing he could do was accept it, and fulfill it. Or was that even his destiny? Was it his destiny to inherit Camelot Enterprise like he’d been told he would since birth? The longer he spent in Ealdor, the less appealing that sounded. Smiling sadly, Merlin toyed with one of the stones by his hand.
“Destinies,” he exhaled enigmatically, a breathy laugh creeping over his lips. “Are troublesome things.”
Arthur leant towards Merlin, smiling warmly.
“Your great grandfather Vladimir – is it true what the ancient legend says?” he asked, hiding amusement when Merlin’s eyes doubled in size in astonishment.
“It may come as a surprise, but some of þá útlendan doactually find the Druids fascinating.”
Arthur would never have thought himself to be one of the people, yet now here he was, technically undergoing a major research project on the druids by becoming one himself. Then a realisation hit him. He’d called his own people útlendan. Even Merlin seemed a little intrigued by his choice of words, and mused over it for a moment quietly.
“-How did you know about the Ancient Legends?”
Arthur laughed.
“The æmryš of course.”
Merlin raised his eyebrows in incredulity- he may be a Pendragon but Merlin was positive that their sacred texts were burnt and demolished in that world, any copy of that book would be destroyed. Arthur continued, noticing his friend’s silent objections.
“Morgana managed to salvage a copy in Venice, Leon’s been studying the copy for years. Plus since we got to Albion, Leon was allowed to have access to the vault of Druid books kept in Camelot, for purposes believed to aid the project.” Arthur shuddered a little at how much he sounded like his father with his corporate tone.
As much as Merlin wished to question Arthur about Uther and his motives, he found he could not. It was a touchy subject for the pair of them. Things were…nice how they were. The past few months had been perfect- trapped in a bubble blissfully unaware of troubles and Camelot.
“Oh.” Merlin breathed, studying the wind’s caress over the lake.
“The Dragon that attacked us today, that was Kilgarrah wasn’t it?” Arthur hesitantly questioned, watching Merlin stiffen beside him.
The body language alone convinced him his assumptions had been right. Then it all became apparent; Kilgarrah had troubled Merlin because of his predicted destiny. Kilgarrah was a dragon, Merlin was a future dragonlord.
“Yes.”
Curiously, Arthur continued, sitting upright off the stone behind.
“But what about the White Dragon?”
Merlin turned his full attention to Arthur, spinning his body to face the blonde attentively.
“Aithusa?” Arthur nodded; Merlin scoffed rather dismissively. “Aithusa is just a myth. Nobody has ever seen or found the White Dragon.”
At these words Arthur found he was the one scoffing. Since entering Albion, virtually everything he had been taught to be fictitious or a myth was real.
“You can’t surely believe that Kilgarrah is the last Dragon left?”
“He’s always here, watching over the land of Albion, summoned only in a time of great need…” Merlin paused. “by a Dragonlord.”
The shift in tone was obvious. Arthur watched Merlin’s admiration for Kilgarrah morph into dread and anxiety.
“So,” Arthur pried, unsure if he was about to be scolded for asking. “they’re going to put you in charge of all of this when your father passes his powers down?”
“My father is a great man,” Merlin replied slowly. “he rules his people well, he’s wise and kind, I want him to be proud of me when I take over.”
Shrugging in acknowledgement, Arthur smiled lightly.
“I can understand that.” the thought of sharing a burden seemed to relax Merlin a little, falter his tense posture.
“You should try being in my shoes. I always have had to live up to what my father expected of me. I understand what he faces, and the decisions he has to make…”
Leaning over to Arthur, Merlin placed a hand tentatively on his knee. Arthur’s vision wavered from the smooth silky hand to those captivating blue eyes laced with poorly concealed hope. The emotional intensity and the sheer honesty of it strengthened the guilt consuming Arthur.
“Despite being the insufferable prat you are, I have a feeling that you Arthur Pendragon, are going to do Earth proud, and make your own footsteps. Not follow in your father’s.”
Taken-aback by the kind words executed with confidence, Arthur felt his lips curve upwards slightly, heart pounding. Attempting to detach himself from the fresh giddy feeling pulsating through his body, Arthur’s smile turned into a smirk. Raising his eyebrows, he peeled Merlin’s hand off his knee; he felt his body protest against his will.
“And,” he said, usual arrogance returning. “Despite you being the bumbling buffoon that you’ve proven yourself to be Merlin,” his smirk grew when Merlin ducked his head, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I have no doubt that you will accomplish great things,” the hilarity between them faded, and Merlin glanced up into Arthur’s eyes, caution drizzling over his face.
“Things greater than any druid has ever accomplished before.” Merlin scoffed, causing Arthur to elaborate. “No Merlin I’m being serious. Today in Saerion, you revealed yourself to be a true leader, an inspiration to the people-”
“-I can’t be an inspiration!” Merlin wailed. “I can’t even protect my own Wyvern from a dragon! How can I be Emrys when I am so flawed, when I’m…Merlin-”
“-I used to think that about myself too.” Arthur sighed, astounded by the man’s modesty. “People didn’t believe I could be Camelot’s next successor, people still don’t believe. But I’ve learnt that there are people who believe in me. Merlin, people believe in you, I believe in you.”
Apprehensively, Arthur held his gaze into those blue orbs. Subconsciously, Merlin leant forwards a little. The pair were locked in a concentrated stare, unable to break the strange atmosphere that had began to build around them. His heart fluttered a little, Arthur felt his own body lean a little further forwards, never averting his eyes. And then Merlin suddenly spluttered into a laugh, diving away, a small blush spreading over his cheeks unknown to Arthur. Uneasy, confusion pelting him in the face- what was all that about? – Arthur forced a laugh from himself. But his mind was reeling. Why was his heart still pumping as if he’d just run a marathon? How was it that those few seconds, time slowed, becoming nothing but a concept in another world? It was almost as if they were going
to-
“-What?” Arthur spluttered erratically, trying to flush out his recent insanity.
Turning back to Arthur, Merlin shot him a toothy grin, cheekbones defined spectacularly in the bright light.
“For a moment there, I thought we actually had something in common.”
Rolling his eyes, Arthur pondered on those words, allowing this newfound bewilderment to enshroud him. Merlin’s words indicated he was talking about the conversation they had just had, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, his tone of voice highly perplexing, perhaps suggesting he was implying something completely different. Averting his gaze nervously, Arthur smiled weakly. Maybe Arthur Pendragon was just being too analytical as usual and overlooking a simple joke made by a friend. Yes. That was definitely it. Arthur wouldn’t really call it scrutiny, but after intently examining the sculpted face of the raven-haired man, he was positive Merlin was consumed in the same confusion and uncertainty behind that goofy grin plastered over his face.
Nonetheless, Arthur replied in a similar fashion, which was rewarded with a lingering gaze.
“Yeah…me too.”
♦☼♦
“I fear he’s more powerful than you could have ever anticipated Uther.” The man said nervously as he entered the office. The fierce blonde woman beside the man titled her head oddly, eyes wide and ferocious. From the desk, Uther lifted his head to the man at the door.
“How so?”
The man’s heart was racing, sweat dripping from his face. Uther Pendragon had reassigned him, and though his new position was one that greatly worried him, he knew it was one that could potentially save the people. Merlin didn’t seem like a threat to Camelot, to the peace that would be formed between the two races – that was until he had demonstrated his true magical ability and command over the druids. Nonetheless, Uther had told him a terrible truth: that the druids were considering waging war against Camelot. It was his trusted job to try and find a way to make peace between them, stop the frictions from forming, learn as much as he could without giving himself away.
Uther had requested him to search for a solution, he insisted the last thing he wanted was war with the druids, and this was their final chance at regaining peace with them ever again. It was a peace that had been built thousands of years ago. The man had wondered why Uther Pendragon, the man who had condemned the druids, suddenly wanted peace and harmony. He assumed it was Arthur’s doing, and when Uther Pendragon revealed how significant the damage could be to the druid’s if war did break out – well, he was obliged to do everything possible in his nature to try and stop it. There was no way a war would break out, he had to make sure of it, no matter what Uther’s terms were.
“I’m waiting, Leon.” Uther said, voice low and full of irritation.
“He is the one you’re looking for. Merlin is Emrys.”
PART 2
Chapter 31
The haunting, female voice echoed through his mind. At first it was quiet enough to be mistaken for the wind. For a moment, he did mistake it to be the wind, believing he had resolved to hallucinations because that voice had not plagued his dreams, harmonised his sleep for many weeks. An irrational, restlessness had been evoked inside of him. The absence of the voice singed his burning skin, leaving a dull ache each time his heart pumped blood through his veins. He needed her; the voice had been a part of her he could not remember. The voice rolled over the shoreline, crashing against his reason, demolishing any doubts.
Arthur…Arthur…
Shivers tickled his spine; the dull ache in his body grew tenfold. Opening his eyes, Arthur scanned the room cautiously, wishing for the source of the voice to magically appear before him. Nothing appeared, leaving him stranded in darkness, marooned on an island he was uncertain he would ever leave. Reaching for the pendant around his neck, Arthur clasped tightly until the outline of the bird began to engrave itself onto his palm. It was his mother, he knew it was. No matter what anyone said.
Merlin lay fast asleep on the other side of the room, seemingly unaware that his friend had been disturbed from sleep.
For a moment it was quiet, too quiet. He could feel the voice fading away helplessly. Desperately he shut his eyes and did everything Merlin had told him to never do. He took down the barriers around his mind drastically smashing the walls, leaving it defenceless and susceptible. Immediately, he felt the rush of something hover in his mind. It filled him up, overwhelming every one of his senses. The voice wasn’t talking, but it was here. He could feel it in the air around him. It reverberated through every inch of his body, exploring his mind. Inhaling a short breath at the strange sensation, Arthur tried to focus all his attention onto the voice.
...Arthur, my Arthur.
The words ignited infinite happiness, and also infinite sadness, because Arthur knew how this particular story had ended. It was devastating, one of life’s worst tragedies. Clenching the necklace in his hands once more, Arthur exhaled a nervous breath.
Who are you- who are you to me? Even his mind-voice stuttered urgently, unable to hide the emotions bottling up inside.
...Arthur….
-Are you my mother?
It seemed apparent that the voice was either unable to hear him or some kind of holographic predetermined speech. Its response was almost mechanical, lacking in the usual warmth it had before.
…My Arthur…
Arthur clamped his eyes shut, panicking. He was unaware he was muttering aloud to himself, shaking slightly like a deluded, wild man.
Answer me, please answer me!
Nothing.
“Answer me, answer me please.” He whispered, bringing his head down onto his clasped hands. His voice picked up volume when the silence was all that responded. “I need to know, I- I need you to answer me!” he frantically searched for the voice inside his mind, creating a trail of destruction and chaos along each path he explored. The truth hurt. It hurt a hell of a lot more than he could ever admit. Any trace of its presence was now gone, she was gone.
…would she ever return? Could she?
Arthur didn’t sleep that night.
Or the next night (or the one after that).
The voice didn’t return, no matter how hard he pried into his mind.
He was terrified it never would return- that he’d lost her forever.
♦☼♦
It was four days since Arthur had last heard the voice. This one fact deprived him of sleep, slowly devouring his soul. Dark rims were threatening to form under his large, vacant eyes. A clump of untidy stubble was protruding from his face, not mention his skin was ashen, sickly in colour and depleted of vivacity. Nonetheless, he had to audacity to believe that as he walked alongside Merlin in the forest, he could pretend that everything was okay when it really wasn’t and Merlin wouldn’t suspect a thing. Somehow, he must have been pretty convincing actorbecause Merlin hadn’t said a word. No. He wasn’t a convincing actor, that much was clear. When he stopped to study his friend’s face, he half-assumed he was looking into a mirror, because the man before him looked just as he did.
Arthur understood why. Merlin was too consumed in his own worries: Will, Léohte, preparing Arthur’s Eftboren, Emrys. The past few months had not been easy for him, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that he had not taken Will’s departure well. To think that he had been minutes from Will the last week – it angered Arthur. He wished the man would stop behaving like an ignorant child and confront his fears. In fact, the more Arthur thought about everything Merlin was enduring all at once, the worse he felt. Here he was, moping about a voice in his head whilst Merlin was carrying far too many burdens and duties on his shoulders. Guilt malevolently wrapped itself around him. He had no right to be-
-Suddenly alert, Arthur gasped audibly, gazing wildly around the forest. This broke both of them from their own woes, allowing fate to throw them mercilessly back into reality. Motionless, impassive, Arthur stood.
“Arthur what is it?” Merlin asked urgently, leaning towar
ds him. The blonde man before him resembled stone more than flesh; it was highly unnerving. “Arth-“
Holding a hand up towards Merlin, Arthur’s widened eyes scanned the forest. The sound echoed through his ears once more. However, unlike all the times before, it felt real. It didn’t feel like an illusive dream. The voice was here; she was here. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath before turning towards the druid. All the sharp emotions seeping through his body were fully exposed on his face, leaving him vulnerable and uncertain. Shock wrecked his body. Instinctively, Merlin darted to his side, steadying Arthur as he trembled and dived to the ground. His body became a little limp; simple movements became clumsy, the world around disorientated. Arms wrapped around his torso, Merlin heaved the delirious man up. Arthur fell flaccid in his grip, eyes unfocused. Merlin scanned the pallid complexion in a newfound panic. It was as if Arthur had fallen into some kind of subconscious state.
“A-“ attempting to keep calm, he bit his lip and monitored his own breathing. “Arthur what is it?” he hissed, slapping the face gently in fear those glassy, vacant eyes would fall shut and he would lose any form of consciousness.
Arthur…Arthur…
Without warning, the man in his clutches broke free hastily and held a hand to his throbbing temple. His head burned, his body ached. Swallowing-hard, he lifted his eyes to Merlin, too consumed in his own suffering to notice his friend’s profound concern. It was happening now, what Hunith had spoken of.
“I can…” clamping his eyes shut to try and mask the discomfort inside his mind, Arthur sighed and tried again. “I can…I can hear her.”
Taking a step towards the blonde, Merlin intensified his gaze. There was no explanation needed to clarify who Arthur could hear. His eyes never left the watery orbs, sympathy and urgency flushing out the panic for Arthur’s health.
“I’m coming with you.”
Arthur attempted to laugh, no sound came out. Instead his head slightly raised up, then lowered back down, a smile on his lips. It was the closest to a laugh he could get. Of course Merlin would come with him, loyal idiot. The miniscule smile perished instantly. Their gaze became electrified, sending a tingle up the blonde’s spine. In the few seconds that passed, he dowsed himself in those twinkling sapphires, touched by what he found sifting between the smear of colours. Right now, in the blinding sunlight, Merlin looked like a reverent Angel.