by GR Griffin
“It wouldn’t make sense for the Naemon to pass down all their knowledge to just one Druid,” Evanna concluded, her brown curls framing her anxious face. “Even if Morgause acquired this spell without consent, the fact remains that there are remnants of Naemon spells around.”
“Well, what can we do about it?” Arthur asked, sensing the worry to the woman’s voice.
“Nothing.” Topia exhaled in avid exasperation. “We can only hope that no-one else tries to do it again. Naemon magic is not something you can play around with; it could kill you if you get it wrong. Luckily, it’s not something any Druid can decide to just have a go at.”
“…how is that…lucky?” Arthur couldn’t help but feel he was missing something crucial here. Surely if not everyone could do it, it meant that only those with already great power could. The curly-haired man began to demonstrate his exceptional knowledge in the Druid culture.
“It is very unlikely for anyone to meddle with it, unless they know exactly what they’re doing. Morgause didn’t have much knowledge of it, that much is clear. If she had Merlin wouldn’t have survived past the second that bullet hit him.”
The thought of Merlin being subjected to something that fatal truly angered and hurt Arthur. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he clasped his eyes tightly shut for a moment. That wasn’t the case though. Merlin was fine, and he was safe. That hadn’t happened, and it never would happen. He would ensure of it. Removing his hand from his face, Arthur opened his eyes and regained composure. A hand gently grabbed his shoulders.
“We felt the need to make you aware of it,” Elätha admitted. “It’s nothing of great concern, but it is enough to be mindful of.”
“I understand, thank you for bringing this to my attention.” Arthur smiled lightly at them all. “And thank you for helping me, I couldn’t have done any of this without your loyalty and support.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?” Elätha outstretched his hand warmly.
Shaking it firmly, Arthur’s smile widened. Friends. To think a month ago he and Elätha had sparred on top of a mountain, fighting to the death in a fit of rage and pride. A lot had changed since then. The man before him had indeed become a friend.
“You’re more than welcome to join us in Ghedent.” The Clan Leader said, gazing behind him at the people of Ealdor. A sad expression swept over Arthur’s face for a moment, pondering on these words. It hadn’t occurred, but whilst the Clans were returning home, the Ealden people were not. Their home was gone. With a slow nod, unable to articulate his words, Arthur smiled politely. He appreciated the gesture, really he did. But this was something he and Merlin needed to discuss together. Elätha appeared to understand the train of emotions running through Arthur. His eyes softened, giving Arthur’s hand one final squeeze before turning to bid his goodbyes to Lancelot, Leon and Gwaine. Arthur turned to the wonderful Evanna. Gwaine, Leon and Lance, they’d really settled into Albion – the Druids welcomed them as one of their own, much like with Arthur. It was a lovely sight to see, Arthur mused to himself as he kissed Evanna’s delicate hand.
The King and Queen of the Ghedent mountains linked arms, nodding curtly to Topia of Saerion who returned the gesture. They made their way back to Iaonem, no doubt to gather their clan and take them back home to the refuge of the great mountains in the south. Arthur watched them fade into the distance fondly, an ache in his chest. He really was going to miss Elätha. His attention was diverted back to his friends as he heard Topia’s voice ringing out.
“Well, I guess this is my cue to leave. You know where to find me if you ever do want to go out on that date.”
Grinning, Arthur spun around in hope to catch Gwaine’s reaction. He almost missed the hint of embarrassment quickly splashed over with his usual mischievous smirk. But he hadn’t missed it and oh, he was going to ensure Gwaine never forgot it.
“Second date, actually.” Gwaine retorted.
Raising her eyebrows, Topia felt her lips betray her and form a small smile that wouldn’t go away.
“Right.”
Was that a nervous laugh Arthur heard slipping from Gwaine’s lips? Oh it was. Folding his arms across his chest, delighted by the scene, Arthur’s eyes raced between the two of them. Topia then pressed a chaste kiss against Gwaine’s cheek before abruptly turning to bid Arthur goodbye. If Arthur could see Gwaine over her shoulder, calculating what just happened, he pretended he didn’t notice. The dark-haired woman extended her hand towards Arthur. Clasping it, Arthur tilted his head.
“You knew from the start didn’t you? From that day on the beach.” He said vaguely; nobody around them seemed to understand what he meant.
“I admit I was a little sceptical at first when Merlin told me,” she pulled a comical expression, remembering that day. Arthur gaped a little; of course Merlin had known back then but kept it quiet. He made note to bring that up later. “But you’ve proven yourself, and become a man far greater than the legends could have ever predicted.”
“Thank you Topia.” With a final squeeze of her hand he released it.
“Keep up your studies Leon. I assure you you’re very talented, particularly in Druid linguistics.” She offered the man a small smile. Leon looked like he had just received two-dozen awards and a medal, his eyes full of pride and his smile bordering insane. The sight made Arthur chuckle.
Topia cast one final look over to Gwaine before leaving the group of friends and heading back into the Iaonem settlement.
“You’re not really going to just leave it like that are you?” Lancelot asked, his tone bordering playful disappointment as he gazed over at a bizarrely quiet Gwaine. Lance met Arthur’s eyes impishly.
“The Gwaine I know certainly wouldn’t…” Leon said, forging a pensive voice as he held a hand to his stubbly chin. The twinkle in his eyes completely discredited his actions.
“Well it’s no surprise to me, he’s always been a dollophead about things like this, remember the whole Daphne fiasco-” Arthur didn’t get to finish his teasing words. Gwaine marched past his friends and towards the crowd of people. Raising his eyebrows, Arthur watched his friend stride towards the unsuspecting woman. A few seconds later, there was an explosion of noise. Some people shrieked in shock and a few people clapped. Lance, Leon and Arthur exchanged triumphant smiles. At last, things were look promising for Albion.
♦☼♦
This time, when Merlin opened his eyes, the sun was far less vibrant. It had slipped behind the Iaonem forest, leaving behind an orange hue in the sky that was preparing itself for its collision with the purple shades of nightfall. His vision became less blurred after two blinks, and relief swept through him when he established he could see. The sensation of sound crept back too, only this time it was not overbearing and horrible. In fact, Iaonem was quiet…too quiet considering almost ten thousands Druids were currently residing there. When Merlin tried to sit up, he winced a little. Immediately soft, caring hands were on him, helping him to get into this position.
When Merlin looked up and saw those sapphire eyes, he felt a hollow laugh crack in his throat clumsily; a raw smile split open his face and crinkled his eyes. He was unbearably thin, the illness draining him. His skin was pallid, his cheekbones sharp and jagged enough that Arthur almost wondered if it would be possibly to cut yourself on them. His eyelids were still a little swollen, giving a heavy-lidded impression to all of his expressions. But the sight of his blinding grin was so endearing that Arthur leant forwards automatically, beaming like a mad man and kissed him, teeth against teeth, noses bumping messily.
It didn’t matter, because he was back! Gaius gazed over fondly from the workbench before leaving the pair in peace. Retreating, Arthur sat beside Merlin’s makeshift bed. Happiness oozed from his face, his skin was glowing. Merlin continued to smile before exhaling, clearly still a little exhausted by everything.
Then he looked Arthur in the eyes and tried to speak. It came out uneven and a little pitchy.
“…Hi.”
> It had to be the most adorable thing Arthur had ever seen, and Christ, he was a full-grown man. Then Merlin’s sheepish ‘hi’ resulted in a confounded look on his face, as if trying to fit together the pieces of this new world. Again, it was stupidly cute, and ridiculous. Arthur met his eyes, and that was it. In seconds, the pair began laughing, although Merlin had to stop because his muscles still hurt. Fondly, Arthur gazed over to the Druid. After all this, Merlin just said hi. It didn’t surprise Arthur though.
“We’re completely mad.” He admitted, running a hand over his eyes and instantly refreshing the fatigue. He could sleep later, Merlin was awake now and he couldn’t miss this. “It’s good to see you…more you.”
“So, you found the flower.” The dark-haired man said conversationally, raising his eyebrows. Arthur rolled his eyes at the familiar tone underlining that voice.
“Don’t act so surprised Merlin,” you know I’d search the entire earth just for you was the unspoken words behind this indignant response. Clasping his hands together, Arthur studied Merlin fondly. “You used your magic to try and help me you know, while you were on the brink of death! You should have been thinking about yourself and yet you still tried to help, god. Sometimes you really are a dollophead.”
Merlin’s eyes twinkled.
“Better than being a Pratdragon.”
Allowing his lips a small twitch, because Merlin had just recovered so he supposed he would let him win for once, Arthur grinned. He remained silent. It was overwhelming, having Merlin blinking, breathing, talking. Merlin was okay! After the intensity of everything pummelled his way, it was almost too much to handle, too much of something good at once. The past few days had been long, excruciating. It was then that Merlin’s eyes narrowed and he turned to Arthur with a curious glance. Too content and relaxed to notice the expression, the blonde man absently traced circles on Merlin’s palm. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next, nothing.
“Where’s Will?”
…
The words knocked the breath from Arthur unevenly until he was attempting not to gasp for air and hold a hand to his bruising chest. That overwhelming feeling of grief, of sorrow for all those that had been lost shrouded over him. It took an incredible amount of restraint to rein it in and try to keep it at bay, for Merlin. Merlin gazed over to him calculatedly, innocent and unknowing of the events that had come to pass. There was still vibrancy in those eyes; Arthur wanted nothing more in the world for them to stay that way.
Honestly, Arthur was still unsure how to handle this situation. He knew Merlin was going to be devastated. Swallowing-hard, Arthur realised he’d taken far too long to answer. Slowly, he shifted his gaze towards Merlin. It was enough. He knew. His façade had broken rather spectacularly, allowing all of his emotions to pour out and entwine themselves in the air around. Merlin’s calm, collected face gradually descended into melancholy. His open, shining eyes instantly dimmed. His body stilled. His breathing became erratic and his eyes stung. For a moment he sat there, staring, immobile. His breaths faded away into small wisps of air that emphasised the tremors.
It hurt to see him like this; Arthur could feel his own heart breaking at the sight.
Then Merlin’s body became animated. Shaking his head in despair, Merlin attempted to get up. A dizzy rush of adrenaline soared through his body. Arthur pushed him back down gently.
“n…” Merlin tested out the sound on his tongue, wincing at how broken his voice sounded. Inhaling a ragged breath he tried again. The words came out with difficultly. “No, no.” Will couldn’t, he couldn’t – but he could. And he would. It was typical Will, biting off more than he could chew, running into trouble. Will was dead. William – his Will, best friend – dead. A sob escaped his mouth; Merlin cupped his face. For a few minutes he sat there like that, Arthur cradling him comfortingly and saying nothing.
Nothing could be said; nothing could possibly make this any better. He kissed the dark curls on Merlin’s head, stroking a hand through the soft hair. Wiping his eyes, Merlin put on his brave face, gazing over to Arthur questioningly. He understood the implications immediately.
“We were rounding people up to go back to Iaonem, one of Uther’s men. Suddenly, there’s this sound and people are yelling my name. I hit the ground. But I’m fine. I look over and he’s…” pause, a sad smile. “He saved my life. He pushed me aside, and took the bullet knowingly. He was one of the bravest men I’ve ever known.”
Merlin remained silent, staring vacantly out as the story was told. The violent tears had subsided to a worrying calm.
“He never hated you,” he eventually said, eyes vacant and expression tightly controlled. Arthur felt a little unnerved at how mechanical Merlin looked right now. To his relief, and worry, emotion poured out of the dark-haired man’s body abruptly. “He…he was just stubborn and scared and-”
Another sob. Oh god.
“-Shh, Merlin, it’ll be alright.”
He couldn’t be gone.
Will, he just couldn’t. It was Will. Will had always been there, since the moment Merlin was crawling on the grass and moving objects with his magic to the astonishment of others. Will had been there when he’d decided he was running away from home in a spur of the moment fit of rage. Will had offered to follow him but convinced seven-year old Merlin that a scolding from parents was nothing to do anything drastic about. Will had listened to him; Will had seen him as Merlin – not just as Emrys. There were times that Will had looked up to him so much, recently more than ever.
He wondered if Will ever knew the truth, that sometimes Merlin looked up to him. So down to earth and resolute. Never afraid to voice his opinions and stand up for what he thought was right. Will could be reckless, led by his bold heart and blinding courage. Will had left Albion to help rescue Druids. He had saved Arthur Pendragon’s life – the man he had barely begun to accept.
“He was a great man, he’ll be forever remembered in the hearts of many.” Arthur concurred softly, able to somehow sense what was going through Merlin’s head without being intrusive and using magic to look inside.
Rubbing his eyes, Merlin gazed over to the blonde man. He hadn’t seen Arthur in days. Hell, he wouldn’t even be here right now if it weren’t for Will, his best friend. Swallowing-hard, the Druid smiled lightly, attempting to brush away the tears.
“We’ll have a proper remembrance ceremony for him when we go home, I promise.” The blonde man added.
The words captured Merlin’s attention wholly. His upset and grief was overcome by an intense curiosity he could not fathom. Narrowing his eyes, he leant a little closer. Arthur couldn’t be suggesting what he thought he was – could he? Go home. Arthur didn’t seem to realise why what he’d said had such an impact.
“We don’t have a home anymore.” Merlin whispered morosely, the memories of Ealdor clinging to his skin desperately.
“We do. As long as we’re all together, we’re home.”
But the words had brought a strange urgency to Merlin. He attempted to stand; Arthur forced him back down again, an amused expression on his face.
“We can’t stay in Iaonem Arthur.” The memories, the events that happened here; Iaonem was an ancient landmark of tragedy, triumph, hope and loss all merged into one cataclysmic mixture. As Clan Leader, it was Merlin’s responsibility to ensure his family had a suitable home.
“We can talk all about this when you’re fully rested and back to your usual self.” Arthur said, a small undertone of imperativeness laced between each of the words added emphasis to his argument. Sensing the protest on Merlin’s lips, Arthur chuckled. “I mean it! Stop worrying about our people; leave that to me. You need to make sure you’ve fully rid yourself of the curse.”
“Hmm, we’ll talk about that too.” Merlin said matter-of-factly, with stubbornness. All of this was completely undermined by the slow blinking of his eyes and the yawn stretching out between vowels.
“Always have to have the last word don’t you Merlin?” Art
hur’s voice drifted into his ears, offering safety, comfort and protection.
“When I’m talking to you, yes.”
“Go to sleep, idiot.”
“Only if you stay, prat.”
“I’m right here.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh for-”
Shuffle. Sigh. Exasperation. Affection.
“-Fine, but budge over a little.” Pause. “I’m never going to get any sleep on this uncomfortable thing.”
“Goodnight Arthur.”
Home. Home. Home.
Chapter 59
A week passed by fluidly in Iaonem, with Merlin finally well enough to walk and talk. He spent most of his time conversing with Ealden Druids, who were attempting to enjoy the aftermath of war and consequent peace as opposed to worry about the impending decision Merlin and Arthur had to make about where their new home would be. That appeared to be the general consensus around the clan; nobody brought the topic up. Even Kilgarrah and Aithusa remained cryptically silent on the issue. Merlin was thankful for this, the last thing he wanted to think about was the pressure of finding a new home, the raw memories of battle and destruction, death, and Will…whenever Will came into his mind, he found he could not dismiss it or brush it away. It was the one constant reminder of Breguoin, of a beautiful friendship; he wasn’t ready to let it go.
Arthur had been mysteriously absent from Iaonem the past week, as had Aithusa. Yet again, the Ealden Clan had become experts in holding in their inquisitiveness. Nobody asked where he went. Only Morgana would try to coax it out of him and follow. Merlin had given up; Arthur would tell him what he was up to when the time was right, he was certain. The fact that Arthur of all people was withholding something unsettled Merlin. He couldn’t help but associate it with the events that had passed all those months ago.
But everything had changed now. Things were looking up.
The sun rose swiftly into the new week.