Camelot Enterprise

by GR Griffin

  “There are times,” breathing in deeply, he clamped his eyes shut, embracing the darkness. “When I hear that name and believe that it simply cannot be.” Pacing back and forth, he held a hand to his head. “Perhaps somebody got the prophecy wrong and Emrys was never supposed to be my name. There are times when I wonder why or how it came to be my name. Was that name given to me, or was it always mine?” abruptly he stopped pacing, hand still pressed against his throbbing temple.

  “Worst of all,” he shook his head, biting his lip at a feeble attempt to hide the turmoil. “Worst of all, there are times when I feel the weight of my destiny, crushing me.”

  Merlin’s voice was so full of turmoil and despair, so drenched in melancholy and darkness that it scared Morgana. If anybody else witnessed this profound doubt, this terrifying defeatist behaviour – the resistance would panic. Merlin was the beacon; he had to remain strong for his People. She fiddled absently with her hands, staring at the back of his head in bewilderment as if she had discovered something unexpected.

  “I don’t doubt that.” she cooed, sympathy and kindness etched into her voice, and honestly Merlin didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that from Morgana. All he’d done was manipulate her. A hand pressed against his shoulder tightly, forcing him to spin around. As he did, he saw a flicker of hope in her eyes. “I have seen what you will face, I have seen what lies ahead for you, for Arthur, for all of us.”

  “Morgana…” he breathed, unable to contemplate what that knowledge would do a single person. Just one look into the future had completely shaken him for weeks, left him agitated and restless. And he had gazed into the Crystals for less than a minute. Morgana saw things every night; she saw the future without the aid of the Crystals. The dreams came to her without her consent, plaguing her nights and tormenting her days. His thoughts were interrupted by her voice.

  “I want to help Merlin.” She explained courageously. “If I could learn how to control my powers, to chose what I can see then we may have a chance of surprising Uther.”

  “Your powers are not something that can simply be moulded into a weapon of war Morgana,” Merlin said darkly, clearly uncertain about her implications. Noticing her confusion, he continued. “Seeing the future is not…I mean it…” rolling his eyes in frustration at being incapable of finding the right words, Merlin pursed his lips tightly together. There was a moment of prolonged silence before he spoke again. This time he spoke sternly with intent and clear concern.

  “There is a reason why nobody ever sees the great seers and soothsayers of Albion. They become so fixated on the future, so adamant in re-shaping the past that they forget about the present. They do not live, they dream. They dream until dreaming is all they know. What they see consumes them until they see nothing else, until it is impossible to see anything else.” Swallowing-hard, Merlin pleadingly gazed towards her. It was a look of desperation, his final plea for her to ignore the call of magic. “The gift a Seer possesses comes at a great price, like all great power.” Clutching her shoulders tightly, he leant towards her. “I…I can’t help you.” Gritting his teeth he bowed his head in an attempt to hide his discomposure. “I will not turn you into one of them.”

  Releasing herself from his grip viciously, Morgana scowled at him in disbelief.

  “You still think that you can deny me what is as natural to me as breathing?” He looked away from her, trying to conceal his upset. “My powers could potentially help us win this fight, and you’re telling me not to use them. How is me using my gifts any different to you using yours?” lowering her voice, she continued. “It’s for the greater good, to save everything we hold dear. Please Merlin; I beg you, don’t let your concern for my personal welfare weaken our forces. I am an adult.” Lifting her head determinedly, she shot him an intense look. “I can make my own decisions.”

  Meeting her eyes, Merlin cupped his mouth, obviously troubled by this conversation. No matter what he said, Morgana was going to pursue her gifts. And he didn’t blame her. Magic was part of her; it had bound itself to soul. It would forever haunt her, either in this raw, untamed form or in a way that could aid others, reveal the future when it really mattered. Nonetheless, he would not be the one to lead her down this route. Not only because he knew nothing about Seers, but because the life of a Seer was forever troubled. He could not be the one to personally bring this upon her. After a moment of debating what the hell he should do, Merlin broke his resolve.

  Yes, Gaius was right, Morgana was right. The fight against Uther was not going to be easy. They could use all the help they could get. It was Morgana’s own choice as to what she did. Strength was not the only force required to defeat Uther. Other elements would be extremely useful. When Morgana shot him another questioning look, more ferocious, he finally spoke.

  “I cannot help you.” Pause. He watched devastation wash over Morgana’s skin, her composure crumbling. “But there are those who can.” At these words, she lifted her head, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “Taliesin understands the realm of prophecy far greater than I do. He has spent many years deciphering the Crystals of Ealdor. Iseldir and Aglain of the Čeirda Clan have also worked with Seers before and may be able to help control your powers.”

  Beaming, Morgana wrapped her arms around Merlin.

  “I will not forget this Merlin.” She whispered against his neck. Withdrawing from the embrace, she stared into his eyes earnestly. “Thank you.”

  With that, Merlin began to walk towards the edge of the small clearing. He thought he’d made it out almost unscathed, until her voice rang out once more.

  “What’s your great price Emrys?” she asked inquisitively, causing him to halt in his tracks. Shutting his eyes, Merlin remained silent, disliking the fact she had called him by this name. In fact he disliked everything this conversation had led to, but she was his friend. All that he could do was support her. He was certain, if in her position, he would have done the same. And once he had come to that conclusion, he knew. He could never alter Morgana’s path, he could stall it, delay it. But it was clear-cut, like his own; like Arthur’s.

  “The most powerful warlock of all time, you must have the biggest price to pay in exchange.”

  Not turning to face her, he grimaced.

  “I don’t know.” He sighed rather agitatedly. Gazing over his shoulder, a hesitant smile slipped over his face. “But if you ever so happen to see, be sure not to tell me.” Pause. “There are some things a man should never know.”

  Merlin swiftly left her presence, briskly walking through the crowds of Druids. His eyes refused to make contact with those he passed. He smiled politely when he saw people looking in his peripheral vision. People believed in him. Suddenly a pair of arms wrestled him to the right. Startled and unprepared, Merlin felt relief swathe over him when he met Arthur’s kind eyes.

  “What’s wrong Merlin?”

  Blinking in surprise, Merlin gazed at the blonde man. He failed to understand how he was so attuned to his emotions, how he could instantly sense something was amiss.

  “Nothing.” He replied blandly, causing Arthur to glare at him.

  “It’s something.” Arthur prompted, expecting the man to reveal what was troubling him. However, to his astonishment, he continued the façade.

  “It is nothing.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Arthur pouted in frustration.

  “Nothing my arse-”

  “-You are an arse!” Merlin replied rather childishly, not daring to look over at Morgana as she walked past them. Amused by the pathetic insult, Arthur’s fond eyes studied his face cautiously. Biting his lip, stunned by his own outburst, Merlin apologetically reached for Arthur’s hands. “Oh Arthur, god I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “I know.” The blonde replied, kissing Merlin’s hands soothingly and then gently caressing the palms with his thumbs. “The past few days have been exhausting, gathering the clans was far harder than the Naiimen Legends stated.” He admitted in a so
ft, lulling voice. “But they have come Merlin, so please smile. Be happy. I haven’t seen you smile properly for days.”

  Humming in agreement, Merlin offered him a small smile. Arthur was almost insulted by the gesture. Did he honestly think that Arthur didn’t know by now when his smiles were genuine or not? Before he could question it, Merlin spoke.

  “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” He admitted. “This is one of the single most important events in the history of Albion. This is the turning point, the chance to save our world, or lose it to the hands of your father.” Silence.

  Arthur knew by now that if Merlin was not ready to discuss something, he would in due course. It was better not to pry and create conflict with the one person he had finally reconciled everything with than risk losing it all again. Merlin had told him what was on his mind, but it wasn’t what really was troubling his heart. It hurt. Yet Arthur knew despite their reconciliation, things would not return to how they were instantly. Forcing a smile, he patted the man’s back and changed the subject.

  “Let’s not talk about my father until tomorrow Merlin, tonight we will be in the company of good friends, faithful allies. Everyone is looking for you,” gesturing over towards the large fire burning in the middle of Iaonem, Arthur tugged the man forwards. “Uaine, Topia, Evanna,” a groan escaped his lips. “Zelina. It appears your Dragonlord stunt has left her completely enamoured.”

  Chuckling, Merlin turned to the blonde man in amusement. For a second he allowed himself the liberty to indulge in Arthur’s company. Arthur was relieved when he saw Merlin’s shoulder slump, the tension in his muscles slowly whither away.

  “She’s not the only one.” He raised his eyebrows teasingly; Arthur’s cheeks flushed instantly. He knew exactly what Merlin was referring to.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Arthur spat back quickly, giving Merlin a gentle push.

  Grinning rather smugly, smugly of all things, Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck.

  “I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he calculated, leaning towards Arthur, lowering his voice. “When I speak in the Dragon-tongue, and assert my authority.” He drew out every word tauntingly, watching Arthur’s eyes attentively for the subtle changes of colour and vibrancy as the flames flickered behind them. “You like it.”

  “You’re insufferable.” Arthur exhaled with a laugh; not once breaking the eye contact as if he hoped it would prove his point. To his disappointment, Merlin rose to the challenge. His eyes flashed gold as he leant towards the man’s ear.

  “Arfuera, ic cufte cweðan awiht,” he extended his vowels, smirking when Arthur shuddered.“ðu áfindest tðjniniende.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips, smiling into his eyes. Arthur smiled back, cheeks still slightly flushed.

  ♦☼♦

  “You really are a wonder Merlin.” Arthur mused as they finally walked towards the fire.

  Many of the people sat around the fire were from Ealdor or Camelot; Gwaine, Leon, Lance, Gwen, Calhoun, Hunith, Zelina, Willow. A few others had joined them; Topia, Uaine, Evanna and Laurys. Perched on the outskirts of the circle was Kilgarrah and Aithusa. Aithusa was blissfully sleeping by the warmth of the flames. The Golden Dragon was wide awake, gazing at Merlin with eyes that unnerved the young Dragonlord. Merlin frowned when he noticed that William was not here amongst the group of friends. When was that imbecile going to accept Arthur and stop acting like a complete child?! A familiar, mischievous voice broke him from his thoughts.

  “Oi you two, you’re making me sick with your PDAs.” Gwaine remarked, smirking over at Arthur and Merlin. The pair grinned back at him sheepishly, Arthur less abashed than Merlin. He then turned to Lancelot and Gwen. “You too.”

  “It’s okay Gwaine,” Zelina mused, inching towards him deviously.

  Merlin and Arthur exchanged amused glances, watching Zelina attempt to rest her head upon his shoulders. Typical Zelina. Gwaine subtly wriggled out of her grasp, making an excuse to quickly flee the area before it was too late. Merlin was certain all the colour drained from his face when none other than Morgana took his place. He prayed Arthur wasn’t looking at him right now, because he was sure he could not conceal the torment on his face. She caught his eye for a moment before turning to Leon.

  To Merlin’s relief, Bregurófne and Léohte chose this moment to join the warmth of the fire, distracting Arthur from Merlin’s subdued demeanour. The Wyvern strode towards Arthur, nuzzling its face against his shirt affectionately. Léohte lay down beside Merlin’s feet, content to be reunited with her rider after his constant departures with the Dragons. Merlin had told her many times that it was nothing personal, and he still belonged to her. But he knew the silver Wyvern was slightly envious of Kilgarrah. Perched on top of Bregurófne‘s head was the familiar fluffy red bird; Ábilgest.

  “I’m surprised you’re still alive.” He scorned, eyeing his Wyvern curiously. “Many times I’ve seen Bregurófne look at you as if you were nothing but a meal.”

  Those ridiculously cute lilac eyes widened in disapproval. Ábilgest lightly pecked the Wyvern on the head with its beak. Instantly it regretted its decision, falling into Arthur’s hands as Bregurófne growled. A laugh escaped Arthur’s lips gently stroked the bird’s red feathers. Calhoun rushed over from Gwen’s arms towards the blonde, demanding to hold the bird in his hands. Smiling tenderly at the boy, Gwen squeezed Lancelot’s hand, content with this one perfect moment. Ábilgest in hand, Calhoun rushed over to the pair excitedly, proudly holding the bird out to them. Topia gazed over at Arthur contemplatively.

  “You have a great connection with the creatures of Albion.” She seemed fascinated, casting Merlin a look before meeting Arthur’s eyes. “They all revere and respect you, Aithusa enough to heed your call and come to your aid despite not being a Dragonlord.”

  Laurys nodded in response.

  “In Dresdentian, it is very rare for even our own Wyverns to dwell in our presence.” A smile touched his lips. “It is a blessing to see that the People of Ealdor have maintained their connection with these creatures.”

  “We are all but children of Albion, people and creatures alike.” Arthur replied rather wisely from across the fire. His words kindled Merlin’s proud smile.

  “Yes. But there’s something about you, you are special Arthur.” At Topia’s words, Merlin’s expression faltered; he shot her an intense look, eyes darkening. The woman was shocked at his actions, confirming her fears. Emrys had not yet told Arthur. Narrowing his eyes at the woman’s words, Arthur pensively stirred over the words. What on earth did she mean by that?

  “As is Merlin.” She swiftly added, to avoid his questions. Merlin relaxed instantly, easing into the atmosphere once again.

  “Please.” Morgana chided beside Leon, a smirk dusting her face. “Don’t flatter my dear brother. I fear his head is already far too big.”

  “You just had to ruin the moment didn’t you Morgana?” Arthur spat, failing to conceal his own smirk.

  “Well we can’t expect Merlin to keep you in your place all the time, it’s not fair on him.” At her words Leon and Lancelot laughed. Merlin gazed over to her, forcing a smile as she tilted her head coyly towards her brother. Despite the humour embedded within these words, Merlin found he could not overlook what she was insinuating. Arthur rose to the bait and was now fully engaged in sparing with his sister.

  As the fire crackled in the center of the circle, smaller conversations began emerge. Some of the Druids took the break of one mutual discussion as a cue to retire for the evening. Merlin took this moment to stupidly gaze over at Kilgarrah, who looked unimpressed and sceptical. Clasping his hands together, he stared intensely at the Dragon, irritated. No doubt Kilgarrah felt he had something to say. The Dragon had made it his business to criticise almost every decision he had made in his presence. Clearing his mind, he focused his attention on the creature, not wanting to create a scene by walking away for another private discussion.

  What is it? He asked in his mind, voice e
nfolded with a feigned nonchalance.

  Kilgarrah pushed its body a little closer to the flames, stretching its wing comfortingly over the younger White Dragon. Then it turned curiously back to the young man, amused even. The twinkle in those golden eyes unnerved Merlin. Fiddling with his hands, he leant forwards. If Kilgarrah had something to say, he wasn’t stopping him from speaking his mind.

  Asecgan mé, Dræɡən. He commanded with determination, watching the way Kilgarrah stirred angrily at the words. It was evident the creature disliked being ordered what to say. But Merlin was a Dragonlord. If Kilgarrah was going to play games and sit there smirking at him, then Merlin had no choice but to coax it out of him through unjust means. Seconds later, the smooth, wise voice of the Dragon rushed into his mind.

  Do not be so quick to think that this battle will be your only struggle to secure Albion’s safety. There are many threats that you will have to face along the way.

  Swallowing-hard, Merlin absently toyed with a small twig on the ground, breaking it into even pieces before throwing them into the fire. He watched as they perished in the merciless flames, vulnerable and weak. The words were not what he was expecting at all. Panic flared through his skin, resonating through his sapphire eyes, streaked with the embers of the fire.

  I don’t understand. He admitted in his mind, averting his eyes from Kilgarrah when he noticed it had caught Gwen’s attention. Silently she gazed over at him, a sad smile on her face. Returning the gesture, Merlin continued to pry, fed up of the Dragon and his riddles. What exactly are you saying?

  Kilgarrah’s next words greatly concerned him.

  The witch.

  Merlin should have known, he inhaled a deep breath for a moment. How could he have so easily forgotten about the witch? Just for one moment she had slipped his mind. She had freed herself from tormenting his thoughts. Uther, of course Uther Pendragon and his army were not the only threat. But they had to be stopped, or else Albion would fall-