by GR Griffin
“I know Arthur,” she whispered. “I know.”
Arthur smiled poignantly. No, she didn’t know. She didn’t know anything, not even her own secrets. Worse, she didn’t know what he did, what he had been asked to do all those months ago. If she did know, he doubted she would even be talking to him right now, he doubted anybody would. Swallowing-hard, he slipped out of her touch, sending her one final sad look before leaving her, all alone once again.
♦☼♦
“Seize him!” A voice roared, and like a deer caught in the headlights, Arthur froze in the hallway.
Running was pointless. They all had guns. He was certain Uther would do anything to capture his rogue son, the son who had disinherited his father, fallen in league with the ‘traitors’. Arthur had to play the game, be smart and composed about all of this. If Arthur injured himself, he’d never make it back to Ealdor to save the clan. He needed more than anything to get there before hell itself did. Two men brutally restrained him as the man he once called father strode slowly towards him. Arthur growled viciously at the man. Uther looked upon his son sternly, emotion drained from his face. Hatred morphed into anxiety. Yes, this man had done terrible things that had destroyed Arthur. But this man was capable of things so terrible it could annihilate an entire settlement, it could completely obliterate everything.
“Uther,” Arthur hissed, tongue tripping over that word in panic. He realised that now his worst fear was very much a reality. Uther – the man he once called father - could pull the plug on Ealdor easily. He’d seen what the fucking bulldozer could do- and that was just one of possibly hundreds. Not to mentions the other kind of machines that had been flocking in the past six months. “I beg of you- you cannot do this!”
“Magic is evil. It has taken you from me.” Uther said, eyes distantly searching the ceiling before locking onto those unfamiliar eyes. So much had changed within those azure orbs. Magic. Magic had destroyed his son. Emrys- he knew was behind all of it. Of course Emrys would try and destroy everything precious to him, revenge for everything he had done to the druids presumably.
“You did that all by yourself with your treachery and greed.” Arthur spat menacingly, voice threatening. “You have hunted their kind like animals-”
“-they are animals.” Uther replied. “The druids are dangerous, savage.” Leaning towards his son imploringly he pressed a hand against his cheek. “Can’t you see my boy?They need to be taught a lesson, they need to be controlled.”
It was time to put the druids back in their place.
Without hesitation, Arthur spat in disgust, causing his father to step back in alarm. The rude, disrespectful gesture clearly angered him, instigating a newfound ferocity beyond anything Arthur had ever known.
“I will kill them all Arthur.” He said, evoking a panic inside Arthur, one he had never felt before in his life, because he knew his father wasn’t lying. “I will destroy Ealdor until it’s nothing but a pile of ash and dust-”
“-No.” Arthur whispered, trying to blur out the words, clamping his eyes shut. Don’t listen to him, don’t fucking listen to that bastard! Don’t let him play you. Too late. Uther knew he’d hit a soft spot.
“-Your magic friends, Merlin, will perish in the flames, or die of heartbreak. Then I will destroy the Crystal Cave, and when I am done-”
Hysterically, Arthur struggled against the vice grip, leaning towards his father, eyes wide in fear. He aborted his strategy. Remaining calm was futile, because how the fuck could he possibly stay calm when he knew how vulnerable Ealdor was?
“-No please, please stop-” he murmured despairingly.
“-and it will be all your doing-”
All his doing- yes. It was all his doing. He caused this. Uther’s voice was quiet, almost taunting.
“For you are the one who has known my intentions from the very beginning, yet failed to act until it was too late…”
Arthur continued to fight against the men holding him, wanting nothing more than to lash out at his father and do what Merlin didn’t let him do: plunge a blade deep into the blackest heart in the world and terminate it. His mother had died by Uther’s hand, thousands of druids were held in captivity in the labs. Arthur dreaded to think of how many lives had been lost through Camelot Enterprise – his former company. The company he once had marvelled and adored. Fuck. This was all so fucked up. This was all so fucking wrong. And there was nothing he could do right now.
“I will never forgive you for this.” His voice was swathed in horror.
Turning his back on the blonde man, his bewitched son, Uther strode forwards.
“Take him away-“
“NO!”
Eyes glowing silver, Arthur yelled out frenziedly. The men on each side of him slammed into the wall, instantly falling unconscious. Looking upon Arthur, Uther glowered and reached for one of several red buttons that laced the walls of this building; lockdown. Sirens shrieked through the building, red flashing light pulsating through the corridors. Striding forwards, palm outstretched, Arthur took a step forwards. He watched his father gaze upon his with detestable eyes, his son could do magic. His son was a druid; he had become one of those vermin. The look on Uther’s face was enough to eradicate any former emotional attachment Arthur once had to the man. It proved once again how shallow and narrow-minded his father was with magic.
“I won’t let you do this. This is their home.” My home, he thought sadly.
Taking a step forwards, Uther narrowed his eyes.
“You can’t stop me.”
Arthur, hearing the sound of people flocking to Uther’s aid, shut his eyes and slipped into the teleporting vortex. Words he pretended not to hear eerily pounded through his head.
You can’t stop me. You can’t stop me.
You. can’t. stop. Me.
The words soared around his mind as blinding colours whizzed around him. The words flourished into a lethal idea.
He couldn’t stop Uther.
Arthur Pendragon was powerless.
Chapter 36
When he arrived back in Ealdor (back in the healing room to be more precise), he felt rather than saw Merlin’s recovery. The raven-haired man latched onto Arthur ferociously, seemingly fully healed as both he and Gwen had predicted he would be. Arthur didn’t respond, gazing over Merlin’s head to a curious Gwenevere. She said nothing, studying his ashen complexion, the unfamiliar expression on his face. Cupping the blonde man’s face, Merlin gazed into the azure eyes, frosted over with something he couldn’t quite identify.
“You idiot!” he exclaimed, brushing aside Arthur’s strange mood for a moment. He could pry later, right now he just wanted time with the man. “I’ve been awake for a whole hour now and nobody could tell me the hell where you’d gone. I was worried sick.”
With each gentle touch to his face, Arthur felt guilty, sinful. With each second they stood here together, he was lying to Merlin for longer; he was tearing Merlin’s heart apart before the poor boy even knew it. For what he had caused was unforgivable. The longer he indulged in his fairy-tale world of happy rainbows and Merlin’s kisses and the people’s love, the less time they had to prepare for the looming attack. Releasing himself from Merlin’s grasp suddenly, Arthur stared vacantly around the room.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered. “…what is it?”
Steering himself away from Merlin’s next attempt at physical contact – it was for their own good, Arthur should never have let this happen – Arthur blinked slowly. Hell, he was in too deep here. He had burrowed himself into Merlin’s heart, into Ealdor’s heart. He couldn’t let Merlin get any more attached to him. But he knew it was too late. There was no turning back now from all of this. Confused by the rejection – did Arthur not want him anymore? - Merlin swallowed-hard, eyes scanning the other man’s face. Maybe it was all a mistake; maybe Arthur had too much to drink last night, and wasn’t actually intending to chose Merlin as a partner. He could find no trace of emotion other than dejection and regret which
hurt more than expected.
“Gather the people together Merlin,” Arthur eventually managed to say, not looking into the druid’s eyes. “there’s something they all need to hear.”
Wordlessly he left the house, not even glancing Merlin’s direction. Holding back the angry tears behind his eyes, Merlin closed his eyes and sighed. He had no idea why Arthur had suddenly become so impassive. Perhaps it was something to do with the machine? Somehow, he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing some vital piece of information. He turned to Gwen for a moment who returned the bewildered glance.
People of Ealdor, Arfuera brings us a message. Assemble.
He left the room after delivering the message, heading for the plateau where his father and mother would be standing. Formerly playing with one of the young druids, Gwaine stood up at the sound of Merlin’s voice in his head. This druid communication thing never ceased to startle him. But what he saw startled him further. His eyes caught the blonde Pendragon leaving Gwenevere’s house, looking like he was headed for the gallows. Merlin exited a second later, face dismal. Instead of walking alongside Arthur, the pair were rarely seen separated, he stood still for a few moments. This was the first indication that something was not quite right. Pushing past a couple of druids, Gwaine walked beside Arthur hastily. He’d never seen his friend like this, in all his life, all their eight years of knowing each other. In that moment, he knew, something terrible had happened. Not even the presence of Gwaine, his oldest friend, could comfort Arthur. This was something he had gotten himself into alone, and had to face alone.
“What are you doing?” the brown-haired man hissed.
“What I should have done the moment I got here.” He replied, Gwaine’s eyes widened.
“Arthur,” the rugged man interjected, clutching him by his shirt. “Things have changed, you belong here. Your duties to Camelot and,” he lowered his voice, scanning the area for any eavesdroppers. “What you were told to do, it's in the past-”
It was no secret between them what this rather ambiguous statement was gesticulating towards. Arthur shook his head, quickening his pace.
“-No Gwaine, I neglected my responsibility, my power to implement change…” he sighed, coming to a halt beside his old friend. “There once was a time where I could have used my title to change the views on magic.” He frowned. “But I didn’t.” Gwaine returned the grimace, unable to deny the truth to that sentence. Yes, Arthur Pendragon did have the power to change Camelot gradually into a peaceful business. Gwaine replied, but the silence between was too long and told Arthur everything he needed to know.
“-It doesn’t matter what you didn’t do Arthur-”
“-It matters now. Now because of my mistake, thousands of lives are at stake.” He snapped at his friend.
“Don’t try and tell me otherwise,” Arthur added as Gwaine opened his mouth clearly to interject. “You know this is my doing. I was given that bloody agenda, and I did nothing to stand against it or nothing to prevent the consequences.” Pause. Arthur averted his vision to the large trees surrounding Ealdor in wonder. “Instead I…heard destiny’s call, found where I belong,” Arthur laughed bitterly, eyes watery and distant. “I fell in love.”
Before Gwaine could ask any further questions, Arthur was walking through the parted crowd, towards Merlin, Balinor and Hunith. The four of them stood before the people. Merlin desperately wanted to reach for Arthur’s hand, check that he was okay. Instead, he caught those eyes in a firm gaze. It didn’t last long; Arthur broke it resiliently.
“Drúte, what is it you have to say?” Balinor softly asked, eyes warm and foolishly trusting, just like Merlin’s.
Arthur pressed his clenched fists to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly before clearing his swollen throat. He knew this time would come, of course he did. The fate of Ealdor was inevitable, despite the efforts of poor appeasement and the impatient stirring of possible solutions for long months. But he did not expect to be standing on the side of those he once was spying on. And – he smiled dismally at the irony – they didn’t even know his initial orders, or what he had been burdened with; the impending destruction of their home- his home. It was going to burn; it was going to become nothing but a pile of ash and dust-
-No.
Amidst the clan of druids, he caught Gwaine’s gaze; lips drawn into a stern line of gravity for reasons only a handful knew: the spoiled handful from Camelot enterprise. Pressing a hand to the bridge of his nose, an overwhelming feeling of dizziness hit the blonde Pendragon. This was it, and fuck, he didn’t know what he was going to say. How on earth could he voice this…this panic? Immediately noticing the concerning behaviour, Merlin rushed forwards, but was met with a sharp, abrupt shift in Arthur’s aura. Arthur twisted out of Merlin’s reach, wincing at the way the druid reacted to the motion.
Raising his head with what would be mistaken for confidence – his heart quivered against his ribs, erratic breaths sieved through his pursed lips - Arthur gathered the attention of the druid clan, his family, his people. The next moment of hesitation could have been described as a selfish indulgence on Arthur’s part. His eyes soaked up the vast landscape of striking chartreuse vegetation against the enigmatic crystal cave, then the people who had grown to love and trust him, the peace and tranquillity amongst them all for this one tiny moment, Merlin’s engaging eyes, his gentle lips, his warm complexion-
- The moment passed too quickly. Arthur opened his mouth, and delivered the message he was born to deliver. He could literally feel the warmth seeping from his body leaving him quivering with cold.
“I bring you,” pause. Deep breath – come on Arthur you haven’t got time to stall.His eyes looked anywhere but into those of the people. “A message of great importance.” Merlin tried to dismiss the obvious tremor in his voice. “As you all know, Merlin and I were attacked this morning by Camelot’s machines- Uther’smachines.”
Murmurs spread themselves amongst the crowd, gasping thrown occasionally into the mix. The raven-haired druid beside Arthur frowned as he cast a look at his father. Balinor’s expression was severe; fearful. They both knew this day would come. As Merlin dreaded, the Crystals of Ealdor were right- the humans just couldn’t resist their greed and primitive instinct to dominate all. They were going to try and utilise the land, exploit their natural resources and evoke a mass conflict with the druids. Expecting the blonde to continue with a suggestion of how to respond, Merlin was taken-aback by the next words, which created an uneasy shiver to descend down his body.
“But it’s more than that.” Shutting his eyes for a moment, Arthur hurled away the emotions batting at his eyes and prodding his brain. Traitor, traitor, you set them up, you knew it. You’re going to be the reason they all die. Ealdor will burn and perish. Eyes opening, he sighed.
“They’re coming;” words spewed out of his mouth quickly, laced in an undertone of terror that was detected easily by the druids. Some began to shuffle uncomfortably; others focused more of their attention onto him. “They’re coming to destroy Ealdor. If you don’t run now it’ll be too late.”
Narrowing his eyes, Merlin took a step towards Arthur, trying to overlook the confusion that was blurring his vision. He could have sworn Arthur had just said people were coming to destroy Ealdor. Wow, what?! But surely even they knew it was sacred…one dangerous question sprouted in his mind. The more he tried to push it aside, the more it consumed him. The question scared him, particularly now observing Arthur. Exhaling a shaky break, he decided to voice the dangerous question. Little did Merlin know, it was the question that would change everything forever.
“-How do you know this?” He asked slowly, staring into the blue eyes that seemed incapable of meeting his own. Another unpleasant shiver attacked his spine.
Gwaine bit his lip, gazing at a morose Lancelot who kissed Gwen’s hand tenderly. Turning to the man, the woman studied the lines etched into his forehead. About to pursue curiosity, Gwen gently squeezed his hand. Arthur had been acting peculiar
since arriving back from Camelot, and so were his two friends. Her mind was thinking the worst; her heart was helplessly clinging onto the grains of sand that hadn’t yet slipped out of her grasp. But before she could state her worry, another voice caught her attention.
“Because,” Arthur choked, swallowing-hard. Shit. He bowed his head, a strange sound spewing from his mouth. Come on Arthur, you can do it. Just tell him. It wasn’t so hard, tell the truth – maybe get redemption, but definitely save a whole settlement. Arthur’s behaviour alone sparked the fear inside Merlin. Frantically, he took a step backwards, shaking his head. No. No. Breathe Merlin, come on let him finish before jumping to conclusions. Reluctantly, Arthur lifted his head, and used every last inch of force inside to regurgitate the words lodged in his throat.
“Six months ago, my father gave me this mission: to get you to move, or deliver this very message to you.”
Gwaine pressed his eyelids together tightly, bowing his head. Arthur wished he’d not chosen that moment to finally look into Merlin’s eyes. A raging inferno burned within the iris, and spread through his bloodstream. His skin was searing with heat. His eyes became a glacial mass of hostility, the thickening ice around the pupil an attempt to detach emotions from this scenario. It failed miserably, Arthur could see that much.
It wasn’t the initial wave of anger that sent a terminal crack down Arthur’s heart – it was the way Merlin seemed to lose everything: light, hope, joy, and replaced it with a void of nothing. Then the ice melted into a layer of tears, uncontrollable tears that came from the deepest part of him. No. How could Arthur…do this? He thought he…he knew Arthur, understood the man. Leaning towards Arthur with shimmering, wet eyes, Merlin held a hand to his throbbing head. It wasn’t just his head that was in pain, everywhere hurt. His muscles ached with a sensation, his breathing became difficult, and his heart- oh. His heart was crumbling into oblivion at this recent revelation. It was sobbing inside him wretchedly, scolding his mind for not taking charge and telling him he was being rendered a fool the whole time. Arthur, his Arthur- no. Never his Arthur, always Uther’s Arthur- he was a traitor, a bloody traitor. He was manipulating the clan the whole time, stringing them along and deploying their good intentions and pure hearts for a dark reason.