by GR Griffin
“Arthur, the people here are remote, not much is known about them and their ways,” He could practically feel Arthur rolling his eyes at the ridiculous statement. “The Ghedent Clan have been known to dissociate themselves with others, keeping their kingdom to themselves. We must consider that their ethic is to only get involved when it directly effects them-”
“-But it does directly affect them!” Arthur protested, casting an exasperated look back at Aithusa and Kilgarrah who appeared to nod in agreement – pesky Dragons. Narrowing his eyes, Arthur leant a little closer towards the raven-haired man. “There’s something else bothering you, what is it?”
Merlin was relieved he never got the chance to reply, because right then the silver gates dramatically opened, revealing the rocky pathway over the large mountain crater towards the settlement. The blonde allowed is question to remain unanswered, more focused on what lay before them. Without hesitation, Merlin strode forwards, followed by Arthur. Any fears and doubts the pair had virtually melted away when Queen Evanna greeted them halfway across the path. She had a loving quality to her smile, her eyes always full of compassion and kindness. Long dark curls framed her face.
“My Lady,” Arthur said smoothly, bowing his head.
Evanna mimicked the gesture, holding the edges of her deep purple gown up whilst she curtsied. Merlin watched the exchange proudly. Arthur really had proven himself time and time again that he really was a true leader, that he possessed the necessary skills to become a great Druid, revered by all. He studied Arthur’s attire fondly, unable to resist the smile that laced his lips. Arthur was wearing the navy blue cloak Merlin had made for his Eftboren ceremony. If only things had stayed that way. That day had been perfect, an epitome of beauty. All the Druids had gathered, all had accepted Arthur; and Arthur had finally found the place he truly belonged.
Turning to Queen Evanna, Merlin met her eyes; she gazed back. A man dressed in elaborate crimson robes emerged beside Evanna. Merlin swallowed-hard, sensing the shift in Evanna’s persona. Her smile faded, her eyes lost their vibrancy. It was hardly the expected reaction a wife would have when seeing their husband. The man – Elätha – cast his eyes between the two strangers.
“Come,” he gestured, walking forwards, lightly tugging his wife along. “Let us discuss this somewhere private.”
To Merlin’s surprise, he quickly established that Elätha had only been referring to him. The crestfallen look on Arthur’s face sent a surge of rage through the Druid. For a split second, he no longer cared that whatever he said could heavily impact this negotiation. Fiercely he glanced back at Evanna, who smiled encouragingly, and that was enough. It was clear that Ghedent was not as perfect as it seemed, there were many problems rotting the core of this peaceful clan. Holding his ground, Merlin stood boldly beside Arthur. Arthur gaped at the druid.
“Not without Arthur Pendragon.” He declared, causing Elätha to halt in his tracks.
What are you doing you idiot? Arthur asked through his mind, casting Merlin a wild, confused look with his sapphire eyes. But Merlin wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were locked upon Elätha, the man who had suddenly become far more menacing than before. Merlin, honestly, defending my honour is not wroth the risk of losing an entire Clan’s support.
It was evident Merlin was no longer listening to Arthur’s incessant mind-ramblings. Instead he spoke bravely.
“Arthur has every right to be part of this discussion. He has fought for the Druids; he has freed thousands of Druids from the oppression of Camelot.“ Lifting his head brazenly, Merlin took a step towards Elätha, not allowing himself to be intimidated by the taller, bulkier man. “We are equals. Where I go, he goes.”
Elätha gazed contemplatively at Merlin - Emrys - and his loyal resolve before breaking into a dark peal of laughter. The reaction startled the Druid, and seemed to gravely upset the Queen. It appeared Merlin and Arthur were both missing something, a crucial element to this story. The man refrained from laughing, melancholy casting over his body. He slumped slightly, unable to look the visitors in the eye.
“My son didn’t return.” At these words, Arthur felt an unpleasant shudder sliver up his spine, his blood run cold. He knew exactly who this man’s son was, it was the boy. The young boy who had died in Camelot Labs, too weak and deprived of energy to continue. Sighing, Arthur felt anguish overwhelm him. He had tried everything he could. But Fate had decided in the end that there was no way of saving him. He was not the only casualty in the labs. Yet he would be the only face that haunted Arthur at night. Full of sorrow, the man slowly gazed over to the blonde. “You let him die.” Pause.
“You let him DIE-”
Immediately Merlin sensed where this was going and outstretched his hand. The timing was immaculate, stunning Arthur for he was certain he would not have been able to predict so swiftly Elätha’s actions. As Elätha leapt forwards, blade in hand, Merlin dove for him, uttering a spell that carelessly tossed the sword out of reach. Narrowing his eyes, Merlin kept his hand out, eyes still glowing a majestic gold. Arthur absently reached for this sword, holding it before him warningly. The tension around the four figures was intense, and dangerous. From behind, Aithusa was beginning to growl, clearly unimpressed and infuriated by this exchange. Wisely, Kilgarrah remained cryptically quiet, urging her to do this same. This was a problem only Arthur and Merlin could solve. For a moment silence consumed them all. Then the man picked up the sword Merlin had cast out of his hands, eyes full of insatiable hunger.
“We have come to you as allies,” Merlin stated, tone dripping in ferocity and authority. Suddenly, his voice became dark and menacing. “Don’t force us to leave as enemies.”
Evanna gazed pleadingly at the dark-haired man, speaking through her mind. Attempting to keep his eyes on the King of Ghedent, Merlin listened to her words.
Please Emrys, our Clan is slowly crumbling. Elätha’s grief and rage has induced great suffering upon his people. You must help me. Help me retrieve the kind, brave man I once knew and loved. Only then can we follow you into battle and defeat Uther.
Quickly Merlin glanced over to the woman, allowing his mind to open and forge a response.
My lady, I ensure you we will do all that we can to assist you…
Whilst this mind-exchange was going on, a very different exchange was occurring between Arthur and the leader of the clan. They were now giving the other their full attention, blades drawn and clasped tightly. Arthur knew this man really meant no ill; he was a leader, seeking to protect his own people from the horrors that had passed. He reminded Arthur of himself. The Arthur who fought selfishly for himself and for his own feelings. It had taken a while to understand that this was not honourable or a good idea. Then a good idea entered Arthur’s head. Boldly, he took a step forwards and met Elätha’s emerald eyes sternly. Perhaps the only way to get the support of this Clan was to teach Eläthaall he had learnt, to try and make him see.
Merlin barely processed the ridiculous string of words that left Arthur’s mouth, too shocked to actually intercept and stop the prat from going through with it. The woman beside him reacted in a similar way, gasping as she gazed between the two men. Before either of them managed to find words and protest, it was too late to object.
And that was how they winded up in the middle of the Ghedent Square. Arthur and Elätha with their swords drawn.
Ready to fight to the death.
Attempting to remain steady breathing, telling himself that Arthur would be fine, Merlin gazed upon the sight in horror. Stupid clotpole! He could not believe Arthur’s audacity. Had he learnt nothing at all the past six months in Albion?! Challenging a King was not a wise move. Especially considering swordsmanship was not one of the areas Merlin had spent hours and hours mentoring Arthur in. Hell, Merlin wasn’t even sure if Arthur had adequate skills with a sword. It was an ancient instrument that required far more focus than just swinging it around or hoping to hit something with force. Anger swathed over his skin, anger at Arthur, and at E
lätha – a grown man at least twenty years older than Arthur – for allowing pride and unimportant values cloud their judgement.
Elätha took a step forwards; the clan members began to mumble to themselves, a few cheering out their leader’s name. It wasn’t uncommon for leaders to spar – but usually it was just for entertainment, not actually having political significance or putting another’s life at risk. The Druid’s didn’t fight like this. To be honest, Merlin was extremely surprised at Elätha’s behaviour. The older man had many traits that counteracted that of a Druid. He only had to gaze over at Evanna who quickly interjected and declared that ‘No magic’ was to be used to figure it out.
Elätha had no magic.
Mentally scolding himself for not sensing the lack of magic sooner, Merlin stared intently at the King. A Druid…a Druid without magic –how was that even possible? Every Druid was born with magic. Whilst some could do great things with their gift, many had received a small token of Albion, only able to use magic for daily life and minute chores. Nonetheless, there never had been a Druid that didn’t have any magic whatsoever. The mystical nature of Ghedent was beginning to make sense now, why they hid up in the mountains. A Leader who couldn’t wield magic was sure to bring disadvantages. Perhaps that was why the Clan had resorted to building a mighty empire in the mountains, out of reach and range from enemies or threats the forest may bring.
His curiosity was about to divert his attention from Arthur, which was something he could not afford to do. Standing beside Evanna, Merlin watched as the two men approached each other. There was stalemate; neither moved their blade. Waiting for the fight to commence was agonising. And even though Merlin understood Arthur’s reluctance to make the first blow, he found himself biting his tongue to stop him shouting out words of encouragement and frustration to do just that. Arthur slowly took a step to his left, watching as Elätha did the same. The pair circled each other, evidently waiting for the other to make a slip and provide opportunity.
It happened so fast Merlin was certain not even his magic could remember to slow time and allow him to see. One of them slipped, a ragged gasp sounded, then the sound of metal on metal. The swords began clanging together loudly, the noise of the crowd overwhelming. Both seemed unable to break the other’s defence. Elätha lunged forward; Arthur met it with a sharp slash that pushed the blade away. Then Arthur spun around and aimed for the shoulder, only to be met by Elätha’s blade. Growling, the blonde increased his ferocity and speed, continuing to hit the opponent’s sword with increased power.
Elätha stumbled, allowing Arthur a perfect shot. Merlin’s eyes widened, subconsciously leaning forwards.
Arthur didn’t take the shot.
Of course Arthur didn’t take the shot, this was Arthur. Merlin knew he wasn’t going to really kill the King if he had a chance. But that didn’t matter, because there was no telling yet whether Elätha was also bluffing or was seriously considering ending Arthur’s life. Whatever his intention was, Merlin clenched his fist; he and Arthur had come too far for one man to sabotage everything. If Elätha tried to kill Arthur, Merlin would kill Elätha without second thought. Simple. Well…not simple. That would be a high form of treason, and the pair would have to somehow escape a settlement of ten thousand angry Druids. Merlin gritted his teeth in vexation. Why could these things never be simple?
The fight continued with no clear winner for several minutes. Each man now dripping with sweat and beginning to show signs of fatigue, every few hits one of them would lose their footing or misplace their blade. It was horrifying to watch, especially when Arthur appeared to be the one consistently making the most mistakes. Then it happened. Arthur fell to the ground; his blade fell out of his hand.
There was no way he could reach it.
Elätha plunged is sword down. Arthur frantically rolled out of the way. Shit. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go! Searching for his sword, he narrowly missed another hit. His fingers scraped across his sword. Slowly he tugged it back into his hand. Only there was one problem. Elätha was now hovering over him, sword prodded hazardously against his chest. Swallowing-hard, he gazed up at the ruthless man. He could feel Merlin’s magic bubbling, the Druid coming into his peripheral vision. He was conjuring a spell goddamit! Merlin was going to strike Elätha and ruin any chance they had at forging an agreement. Although arguably, Arthur had already sabotaged that prospect. Arthur had to do something, think of something because in a few seconds death would be inevitable.
Either he would be dead, or Merlin would be dead because he was dead and had killed Elätha. Or Merlin and himself would be dead because Merlin had unleashed his magic protectively and reacted before Arthur could. None of these options were viable; especially considering the Ealden Uprising was under way.
Do you trust me? He said into Merlin’s head, not averting his eyes from the blade pressed against his shirt. The Druid in his peripheral vision appeared to be struggling with his composure. Merlin. If you trust me please, let me finish this-
-He’s going to kill you.
Refusing to reply to that grim sentence, Arthur gazed into Elätha’s eyes courageously. Then he broke into action, stunning the crowd and Merlin. Suddenly everything was turned on its head. Arthur was standing over Elätha, sword pressed against his chest. And the brilliant thing was that Merlin had absolutely no idea how on earth Arthur had just done that, because it seemed virtually impossible. A soft smile framed his lips; he soothingly clasped Evanna’s shoulders.
“You have let your emotions cloud your judgement,” Arthur explained to the man below him. “You have not been the leader the people of Ghedent deserve. They deserve a man who will not fight for selfish means, a man who will not be blinded by hatred and his own personal loss.” Elätha glared at Arthur, attempting to struggle out of the compromising position. It was embarrassing, to be defeated by a Pendragon of all things in front of his own people. He was unsuccessful. Arthur crouched down to his side, maintaining the sword at Elätha’s chest. Eyes softening, Arthur frowned.
“I cannot stop you from continuing to lead your people this way, for I will not take the life of a fellow Druid.” Elätha narrowed his eyes at the statement, obviously confused by his choice of words, in particular ‘fellow Druid’. Removing the sword from the man’s chest, Arthur gazed intently at Elätha. This was the greatest gesture of trust seeing as Elätha still had a blade in his hand and could easily strike Arthur down. “But I can offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your son, and ask for clemency.” Pause. “Your son was strong; he fought valiantly in the labs against a great evil. If you seek vengeance, seek to do your son proud and follow in his name,” Standing up Arthur looked down at the man. “Then you should know that you’re fighting the wrong Pendragon.”
Tears in his eyes, Merlin watched the scene in awe. The People of Ghedent were quiet, also transfixed on the events passing. Then Arthur did something brave, something loyal. He outstretched his hand, offering it to the fallen King.
“Join us, help us save Albion from its greatest undoing.” Elätha stared at the hand questioningly, making no clear movement. “All you have to do is take my hand.”
And Elätha did.
♦☼♦
Nightfall arrived quicker than expected, sweeping over the land in one swift motion. Up here in Ghedent, the sky was beautiful. The stars seemed closer to earth than ever, wisps of cloud passing over the silver moon. Merlin understood why Ghedent was also known as Steorscéawere, the place where prophecies were made. It was where the great Scéaweres read the meanings embedded in the stars, the place where the stars were never concealed.
The jagged and treacherous mountain range were a great challenge to fly through, even with magic and the enhanced sight Dragon’s had. Attempting this in the dark – that was a completely different story. The fact that Kilgarrah seemed reluctant to make the journey indicated that it was not the best idea. Thus, Merlin politely accepted Evanna’s offer to stay in Ghedent. Ghedent was different
to Ealdor not only in terms of society, but also due to the structure of this great city. Buildings were required, mainly because the conditions in these mountains were extreme. The nights were horrendously cold.
Therefore, each Druid lived in a house made from the strong sturdy mountain stone. These houses overlooked the great home where Evanna and Elätha lived. To Arthur’s eyes it resembled a castle, only it shimmered with magic and appeared far less of a hierarchical structure than it was in his old world. He and Merlin were sat in the room Queen Evanna and Elätha had provided for them, the small embers of a fire adding a hypnotic glow to their surroundings.
“I’m proud of you, you know.” Merlin muttered to Arthur, gazing out the window to ensure Aithusa and Kilgarrah were sound outside. When he was sure they were content, and still heard no response from Arthur, he spun around to face the blonde man. “Don’t get me wrong, at first I thought you were just acting like a complete prat.”
At these words a smile tugged over Arthur’s lips, pleased to hear that ridiculous insult again. He glanced up to Merlin for a moment, unsure whether he should make a quick, sarcastic remark or accept his criticism. The fact that he was deliberating how to respond to Merlin was something he hated. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy re-constructing the path they had built, the friendship that had blossomed into something more. Frowning, Merlin sat down beside Arthur, reaching for his hand. Arthur mentally scolded himself for being so damn obvious.
“Arthur,” he sighed. “Look at me.” Obediently, Arthur lifted his sapphire eyes to Merlin’s face. He struggled to maintain the eye contact, uncomfortable and unsure of himself. Searching his eyes carefully, Merlin found what he was looking for embedded beneath his calm façade. When Arthur broke the eye contact, gazing down into his hands, well that was enough proof for Merlin. His suspicions became truth once he delved into Arthur’s unprotected mind.