by GR Griffin
But he was here.
And it wasn’t just him that startled Merlin. He was sitting - rather smugly of course - upon a Dragon. This Dragon wasn’t Kilgarrah. That was also impossible because Kilgarrah was the last Dragon. Tearing his head back to Kilgarrah questioningly, Merlin blinked in confusion. The golden Dragon simply nodded, nudging Merlin closer with his head. Kilgarrah’s eyes were warm, content. Gaping, Merlin studied the creature before him. A hesitant, nervous laugh escaped his lips. Disbelief then clasped him by the shoulders, shaking him back into reality. Arthur – Arthur Pendragon – was sitting on the White Dragon. Aithusa. Aithusa- the lost Dragon of Naiimen Legend. Merlin remembered the story well; nobody had seen Aithusa since it had supposedly hatched. But even the hatching of this Dragon was vague and believed to be nothing but nonsense.
Aithusa was beautiful, gleaming a pearly white. Its white scales shimmered in the light. It rivalled Kilgarrah in size, body only slightly smaller and daintier. Whilst Kilgarrah was Regal and powerful, Aithusa looked elegant and pure. It’s sapphire eyes shimmered with innocence. They were locked on Merlin. Then Aithusa bowed its head towards Merlin. The gesture touched Merlin. Completely forgetting about Arthur, Merlin politely mimicked the action and spoke in the Dragon tongue.
“Fægernis, ðu béomæst bletsung,” he whispered, trying not to acknowledge Arthur’s astonishment. This was about Aithusa and Merlin for the moment. The Dragon gazed back at him silently, curiously. Then gently, it spoke. The pitch of its voice gestured it was a female Dragon.
“Arfuera.” She said, breaking Merlin’s smile into a thousand pieces, because he knew what she meant and Kilgarrah had also seemed adamant on this too.
Reluctantly, Merlin cast his attention away from the Dragon and towards Arthur Pendragon. His eyes only lingered there for a second before gazing behind them.
Merlin spotted none other than Morgana, standing beside Bregurófne and Leon. A little further to his right he saw, he could practically hear Gwenevere’s choked sob, Lancelot; Gwaine. They were both here too. Gwaine offered Merlin a friendly smile. Dismounting the dragon, Arthur quietly caught Merlin’s eyes. Slowly, he took a step towards a flabbergasted Merlin, blue eyes shining vibrantly. No. Arthur was not allowed to be this calm, this sure about everything. It wasn’t fair. Panic swathed Merlin.
Averting his eyes quickly, he took a step backwards, not letting his apparent shock take over and make him do something stupid. He had to do what was best for his people; not what was best for his dying heart. His back collided with Kilgarrah. Mentally scolding the Dragon, Merlin sighed. He had no choice but to take a step forwards, finally meeting Arthur face to face in the middle of the large rock. The Druids silently watched in trepidation, unsure what would happen next. Arthur couldn’t help but feel like he was the main character in some epic movie right now, hundreds of eyes calculating his next move. It unnerved him.
When Arthur was standing close – too close – Merlin met his eyes fiercely, refusing to break under this gaze. He had vowed, he had warned Arthur if he came back he would kill him…a dejected sigh tore from his throat. How on earth could he ever bring himself to kill this man? It all came together in a heartbeat. He couldn’t live with this man, but he definitely couldn’t live without him. His absence had revealed this. Noticing the blonde was about to speak, Merlin raised a hand abruptly, and silenced him with his mere attempt at authority. He was Emrys; this was his land, his people. Not Arthur’s. A Pendragon had no right to be here, least of all without permission.
“I thought I told you to leave, and never come back.”
He honestly tried to sound foreboding, throwing as much hatred and vehemence into his tone as he could. It failed spectacularly. His voice sounded as a mere whisper, embedded with forbidden friendship and traumatic disaster. He found himself mesmerised by Arthur’s soft, cerulean orbs that nervously stared straight back into his soul. Exhaling, the blonde man shook his head wearily. Then a bitter laugh escaped his mouth.
“You know me Merlin,” he said, voice low. “I never listen to you.”
The small smile tugging at his lips almost threatened to make its way onto Merlin’s stone cold face. God. Biting his lip, Merlin clamped his eyes shut for a moment, trying to take in what exactly was going on. There was no denying it. Now he was here, in front of him. His magic was tingling inside, his heart pounding faster and faster. It dawned on him: he had missed this prat and his stupid fucking lies and betrayal, and affection and disobedience and arrogance. Despite everything he’d done. Opening his eyes, confusion slapped him over the face, a harsh reminder of everything Arthur had done. He had caused relentless suffering, the death of this own father- Blinking rapidly to avoid letting the tears fall from his eyes, Merlin felt a dismal chuckle slip past his own lips.
“…I know.”
Bleakly, Arthur reached for Merlin, hands shaking a little. He felt his composure deceive him when the druid slipped back from his grip, a small distressed moan sounding. Arthur had predicted their meeting wouldn’t run smoothly. Swallowing-hard, Arthur bowed his head; unable to look upon the pale, stone face of the man he had been responsible for breaking. He was too scared to see what was emanating from his eyes.
“I’m sorry Merlin. I never meant to betray your trust-“
At these words, Merlin interjected with a vacant voice, almost vacant enough to be disturbing and lost.
“-I was scared. Scared for my people…” the emotion slowly seeped back into his voice as he jumped an octave. “They…they took everything Arthur and you-”
Meeting Merlin’s eyes reluctantly, Arthur felt himself wince at the unspoken accusation. Turning away from Arthur, Merlin took a step towards his people, trying to remain strong for their sake. The Pendragon’s had done too much damage here, it was impossible to fix with their help. The Druids were strong, the Druids were determined. They had fought wars like this before. They would pull through. They didn’t need another betrayal, another heartbreak, another- all of a sudden Merlin gazed over towards his People. He was being incredibly selfish. He didn’t want another betrayal, another heartbreak, another…
“We don’t need your help.” He snapped affirmatively, not turning back to look at the man.
Merlin ignored Kilgarrah’s silent judgemental look of doubt. Just because a dragon told him Arthur was destined to be by his side did not make it true. Dragons had predicted many things and been wrong before in the past. Why was this any different? Rolling his eyes, Arthur gazed at the back of Merlin’s head, wishing there was someway they could get over this towering hurdle and just go back to how things were. Irritation pounded him. Yes. He had done wrong, he had messed up. But Merlin needed to see the bigger picture here. The people needed the help of Arthur and his friends.
“Yes you do.” He quickly replied. “Stop being so stubborn-“
“-I’m not being stubborn. We. Don’t. need. You.” Merlin’s voice became lethal, but that wasn’t enough to stop Arthur Pendragon from reaching out to him and hauling him back around to face him angrily. Neither cared any more that the whole clan alongside Gwaine, Lance, Leon and Morgana were watching them intently.
“Merlin!” he spat, grabbing the shoulders forcefully. “Don’t make this about me.”
The pair shared an intense gaze, unfolding every emotion that had cascaded over them: annoyance, agitated and stirring wildly in their eyes; irritation burning up through their skin; uncontrollable lust; irrevocable love; irrevocable hate; sharp betrayal; soft destiny. Destiny. Smiling sadly, Merlin unashamedly held their gaze. He seized the emotions inside and held them out bleakly in front of Arthur. He watched he blonde’s eyes slowly flash with comprehension as he studied the emotions.
“It’s always you Arthur, always.” Arthur’s featured softened, the grip on Merlin’s shoulders loosening.
“Merlin-” he muttered, unprepared for what came next.
The words evoked that burnishing fire inside of his body.
“But not anymore.”
>
His grip tightened, heaving Merlin forwards ruthlessly.
“You!” he stammered in disbelief, before pushing the druid out of his grip, far out of reach. Merlin raised his palm impulsively, keeping his distance.
“Me?” he roared furiously, eyes wavering between blue and gold unsteadily.
Morgana took a step forwards in concern, magic and high-strung emotions didn’t mix well, she knew this. Leon tugged her back hastily. This was something they had to solve alone. Arthur growled, because he’d had enough of this shit. Merlin wasn’t even accepting the fact that there were so many complex layers involved with his apparent ‘betrayal’. He failed to look beyond what had happened at Ealdor, without remembering everything they’d been through together. Surely Merlin knew Arthur valued him enough to never fake or forge a friendship like that? He feared the Druid didn’t understand at all.
“I…” Merlin shook his head, clenching his open palm into a closed fist. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to come here and blame me!”
No. Arthur wasn’t blaming Merlin at all. In fact he was doing the contrary. But now he thought about it, yes. He could very well blame Merlin for all of this and act as childish as the man was. Scoffing, Arthur petulantly folded his arms over his chest.
“This isn’t about you Merlin-”
Thatdid it for Merlin, because was Arthur really going to go there and imply that he didn’t really care about his own people? Apparently yes.
“-I’m not making this about me,” He spat viciously. “you are making this about me!-”
“-I wonder why.” Arthur chided sullenly. “I guess because the only thing stopping me from stopping my father is you.”
Merlin could not believe what he was hearing. He was the one preventing Arthur from stopping Uther? How was that possible? To stop Uther, Arthur didn’t need to be here, he could have marched up to Camelot and faced him. The only thing Arthur was doing was stalling an inevitable meeting with his father.
“I am protecting my People.” Merlin yelled in response, seething.
That wasn’t true at all, Arthur could see right through it and spoke his mind without caution.
“You’re protecting yourself.”
“GO. WE DON’T NEED YOU.” The dark-haired man shrieked, sounding more exasperated than angry. “I DON’T NEED YOU EITHER.”
With that, he turned away from Arthur and towards Kilgarrah who looked unimpressed. Running a hand through his dishevelled hair, Arthur outstretched his arms in frustration.
“Y-y-you’re insufferable!” he cried. “I gave up everything. I left my life behind just so I could be here with you and the Druids. I betrayed my father; I committed high treason in favour of the druids. I tried to protect you; I risked everything to save your people. And,” he took a step forwards, a dark bite to his tone. “I just broke into my father’s headquarters, rounded up the clandestine druidians, shut-down every single laboratory in the world, freed the Druids, found the impossible White Dragon, saved Gaius, rode all the way back here to find you and you’re still indifferent to me?! Now who’s behaving like a fucking CLOTPOLE DOLLOPHEADED PRATFACE C-”
Out of all of these words, Merlin was only able to pick up one thing. The rest of the world dissolved into the background. Anger morphed into fear, his rage melted into concern. That name, that name that meant everything. The one he’d desperately tried to save, tried to protect from the clutches of Uther. The memory of the weakening man, hair shaved, and blank eyes haunted his thoughts. No. Looking over to Arthur in shock, an overwhelming nauseating feeling swept over his body, muscles clenching together to contain it. He could see Arthur’s lips still moving, the man pacing back and forth as he spoke in irritation clearly still listing insults. But the words were muffled, because one word was echoing constantly. Gaius. Gaius. Gaius. Gaius. Merlin interrupted urgently.
“-Gaius?”
Breaking his stream of words, Arthur stopped pacing. He turned to Merlin silently, watching hope flicker in those eyes. Nodding slowly, he smiled with a small shrug; the smile gave Merlin unbelievable levels of happiness. The confirmation. Gaius was okay, hell Arthur Pendragon had saved him. Unable to do anything but crouch onto his knees, his legs were too unsteady to balance on, hand over his mouth, Merlin shook his head feebly. Gaius. The man was safe and sound.A small sound slipped past through his hand, resembling an alien sound he had never made before, swathed in ecstasy.
Arthur’s next words did even more than this.
“He’s not the only one.” Arthur spun around to gesture behind him.
Lifting his head from his shaking hands, Merlin gaped in awe at the sight before him. Compellingly, he pushed his body to stand limply with his magic’s will, legs still shaking. In every direction coming their way, on Wyverns, some walking, some running, were druids. Druids freed from their captivity in the laboratories of Uther Pendragon’s company. The marks of magic-inhibiting chains bruised their pale skin; their eyes were sunken into their heads in fatigue. Many were bald, and were clothed in things far too big for their malnourished bodies. But they were beautiful, they were strong, they were survivors. They were living proof that together, they could defeat Camelot Enterprise.
Members of the Ealdor clan surged forwards in joy, some screaming names of those they thought had once been lost forever. Hugs were exchanged, happiness sprouting from the melancholic laughter, the relieved smiles, the free druids. Taking a step forwards, standing besides Arthur, Merlin watched the scene before him unfolding. All he could do was gape, observing the captives roam through Iaonem free. That truly was…amazing. These Druids had been caught, tortured and god knows what else.
But now, they were free.
“Arthur,” he whispered, feeling his magic swell at this immeasurable gesture of loyalty, of everything. He had bought the people home…saved thousands of lives despite risking his own.
“Arthur.”
The gravity of what Arthur Pendragon had done, what he had risked hit him. He inhaled a shaky breath, holding a hand to his throbbing head. This was too much to take in. Too big. Noticing Merlin’s weakening composure, Arthur gently supported him with his hand. A few seconds later, the raven-haired man attempted to start his sentence again.
“Arthur you-“ before he could finish, his eyes locked on one man who was standing beside Morgana. And that just finished him off.
“GAIUS!” rushing forwards without hesitation, Merlin leapt into the arms of the old man, tears immediately escaping. Wrapping his arms around Merlin, Gaius’ brittle voice shook with laughter. Immediately, Gwenevere had made her way through the crowd, embracing Gaius firmly, sobs of relief overpowering her system. Merlin watched in joy, unable to contain a laugh. Hunith leapt onto the rock, desperately running towards the three figures. Swathed in affection, she gazed over at Arthur, offering him a genuine smile.
Watching the separated families reunite, old friends reconnect, strangers greet strangers with admiration and fondness, Merlin wiped his eyes. A hand pressed itself into his back, and Merlin suddenly felt like the rest of the world didn’t matter, because right here and now they were all trapped inside this vignette of dangerous hope and blinding joy.
“After everything you’ve done for me,” Arthur whispered, mouth pressed close to Merlin’s ear. “I had to do this. For you, for me, for the people. To prove my loyalty, to prove I am not my father.” He sighed, the breath ghosted over Merlin’s neck, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. A warm hand met his, clasping it tightly.
“You changed me Merlin, you changed my heart and opened my eyes to what I couldn’t see.” Arthur continued, his grasp on Merlin’s hand tightening.
“I know you may never forgive me, but your people want to fight. I want to fight.”
Spinning around, Merlin stared into Arthur’s eyes, vulnerable and full of raw feelings. For a moment they stood in silence examining each other, committing every inch of the other’s face to memory.
“You’ve freed my people from captiv
ity Arthur.” He said, tears falling down his face. “There is no greater act of valour and honour than that.” Arthur reached a hand up to the druid’s face, brushing a thumb over the tears affectionately.
Holding Arthur’s hand to his face, Merlin felt his trembling lips upturn.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” Merlin stated, looking Arthur straight in the eyes.
There was a brief silence. Arthur stared pensively back at Merlin, studying the happiness radiating from his eyes. Then he leant in a little closer and spoke three words, three very important words that meant more than anything in the entire world.
“Ic æalá ðu-”
With that, Merlin crashed his lips onto Arthur’s with brute force. His hands reached for his shirt, clenching his fists in the fabric violently. Startled a little by the sudden collision, the blonde gasped before moving his hands passionately to the nape of Merlin’s neck, pulling him close enough for their teeth to clink awkwardly against each other, enough to creating a bruising pain between them. The kiss was quick, desperate, longing. It said everything yet it didn’t say enough. It meant everything yet had so much more inside it waiting to be unveiled. The contact seemed to finish before it had even begun. Lips burning, fervour searing in their eyes, the pair rested their foreheads together.
Panting, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as he unclenched his fists and held a hand over Arthur’s racing heart.
“Arthur, I see you.”
Notes:
TRANSLATIONS:
Fægernis, ðu béomæst bletsung - Beautiful Creature, you are our greatest blessing
Ic æalá ðu - I See You
Chapter 47
According to Naiimen Legends, the clans of Albion had only ever come together to fight for justice once. This was many thousands of years ago, and since then each clan had kept themselves to themselves. Sighing, Merlin raked a hand through his dark hair, gazing out into the horizon. Despite the druids being a peaceful people, there was no denying the pain and suffering that had been caused by the hands of Arthur’s father. What if they were too blinded, too full of grief and despair to understand that Arthur Pendragon’s place was here in Albion? What if the other Clans didn’t have as much faith in Emrys as Ealdor did? Ealdor couldn’t fight Uther Pendragon alone; the outcome would be worse than the last time. He was too preoccupied in his thoughts to acknowledge that the two Dragons had crept up on him- although really, how on earth two giant creatures managed to do so baffled him.