by GR Griffin
“Do you really have to leave?” Merlin sighed almost childishly, a weary smile on his face as he studied the beautiful woman in front of him. He flapped his arms around himself ridiculously whilst stumbling over his words. Morgana bit her lip to avoid laughing at his rather endearing presence. He sighed dramatically, eyes twinkling with fading mirth. “It’s just…so soon.”
Clasping his hand, she returned the sentiment. But her words said otherwise.
“I’m afraid so.”
With that, Merlin dived forwards rapidly and drew her into a tight hug. Morgana laughed in surprise and returned the hug. She and Merlin; they had become good friends despite the odds. Over time, she had come to truly understand him and appreciate the decision he made without her consent. Sometimes she wondered if thing would be different if he hadn’t made that decision. Sometimes she wondered what Arthur would have done if he hadn’t met Merlin. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened to everything without Merlin. He was modest and always humble when it came to himself, but Morgana could see even without her foresight that he was the centre of it all, the pinnacle of magic and Albion. She squeezed him a little tighter, hoping he realised just how much he’d done, and how much it meant.
“You’ll look after him won’t you?” she asked against his ear before they parted.
Pulling back to meet her eyes, Merlin felt his own crinkle as he glanced over his shoulder towards the blonde man. He was standing there with his eyebrows raised at the pair indignantly. Always the prat. A mischievous smile spread across Merlin’s mouth as he turned back to Morgana.
“I’ll do my best,” leaning towards her he lowered his voice, grinning. “but in all honesty you know what he’s like, he can be a bit of a…” cocking his head to the side rather charmingly, Merlin smirked in amusement, hoping Arthur caught sight of it. “…prat.”
Chuckling fondly, Morgana gazed over Merlin’s shoulder and met Arthur’s eyes tauntingly.
“That I do know.” She said with a spirited sneer.
Rolling his eyes with deliberate slowness, Arthur marched towards the pair decisively. He seemed unimpressed with their exchange that they weren’t exactly being subtle about. They burst into another mutual laugh about something probably to do with him by the time he had arrived close enough to talk.
“When the pair of you are quite finished making fun of me…” he began with an irritated click of his tongue. The laughter slowly crumbled away, leaving only the three of them and silence. Merlin knew Arthur inside out, and understood what his words really meant. Their eyes met profoundly for a moment. Merlin saw it: desperation; sadness; longing; heartbreak. He wanted nothing more than to be able to fix all of this, yet he knew he couldn’t. Morgana was leaving, and nothing could prevent her from leaving.
Then Merlin inclined his head towards Morgana before brushing past Arthur. He made sure to gently squeeze the man’s shoulder supportively. Arthur’s eyes trailed dotingly after the Druid for a moment. Then they came to rest back upon Morgana, his sister who was readying herself to leave Albion.
“Morgana, I…” pursing his lips together, he paused. No. Fuck. That wasn’t what he wanted to say at all, or what he meant to say. It was all coming out rather chaotically against his will. Or rather, nothing was coming out at all now. He ruffled a hand through his golden hair, hoping his mind and his tongue would co-ordinate. They didn’t. Sheepishly, he breathed a bitter laugh. Damn, why was this so hard?
“Well…erm-”
“-Never thought I’d see the day you’re actually rendered speechless.” Morgana raised her eyebrows in amusement, breaking the tension between them. Arthur let out the breath he’d been holding. He gazed into her glowing eyes. Immediately, he understood. He followed her lead swiftly, because yes. They could talk like this. They’d talked like this for all their life. They could tease and mock and scorn whilst really uttering what could not be voiced. He could do this fine. He just couldn’t actually say it; goodbye. Chuckling at her expression, he feigned annoyance. Despite his words, she heard their true meaning, that’s all that really mattered.
“You just think you’re so…clever don’t you.” I really don’t want you to leave.
Titling her head, she grinned.
“I don’t think I am, I know I am.” Me neither. Pause. Arthur’s eyes flashed with comprehension but before he could interrupt she spoke. “Who got you that 100% in your chemistry exam-?“
Again with that story really!
“-That never happened!” Don’t ever change. He barked back a little bit more animatedly than he’d wanted to, because really they’d agreed that it had never happened. They both could have gotten into a lot of trouble for it in school. She stifled a laugh at his response. Clearing his throat with a cough, he frowned. “And it was more like 85%”-
“-Definitely more than that Arthur, give me some credit!” Never. She huffed. He’d been getting less than half of the marks required to pass the exam. Without her help he would have failed and then suffered the wrath of Uther. Arthur smirked at her rather arrogant response.
“It appears you’ve got more Pendragon in you than I first thought,” You’ll always be my sister. He mused, gesturing towards her snidely. Then he lowered his voice, eyes impish and teasing. “Better watch out, Merlin might start calling you a prat soon.”
Instead of biting back with a mocking remark, Morgana broke into a genuine laugh. Arthur mimicked her actions. The pair stood there for some time, exchanging smiles with a bitter edge and broken laughter. Merlin watched them pensively. He’d never had a sibling, but Will was close enough to be a brother to him. He recalled when Will had decided to leave Ealdor for good all those months ago, to go to Freya. He winced at the vicious memory. They’d never been apart for that long! It had destroyed him. He could barely imagine how Arthur and Morgana were feeling right now. But at least both of them were safe, and alive. Losing Will, it had hurt, especially as he had never gotten the chance to say goodbye. He blinked rapidly to avoid tears. The laughter and smiles ceased. The beating rhythm of the helicopter became more insistent, beckoning her presence.
“So,” Morgana said, gazing behind her at the aircraft. “This is it.” Goodbye.
Arthur felt like a big brother seeing her sister off to university or something of that calibre. Her eyes were juvenile, her complexion fresh and almost naïve. She looked fifteen all over again, a young girl with too much desire for exploration and imagination. Forcing himself to tug his lips into an aching smile, because he knew she didn’t deserve to leave with nothing else, he looked down at her fondly.
“…We’ll meet again.” Goodbye – for now.
She scoffed as if he was being ridiculous. But he wasn’t, honestly. She seemed to be forgetting that she was leaving this world, entering another; they would be thousands of miles apart. Teleporting could work, but it wasn’t going to be flowers and sunshine going…back there. Arthur swallowed-hard, dismissing the thought.
“Of course we will.” Her eyes became more severe. “When the time is right.”
She made haste towards the helicopter. Arthur tugged her back viciously, desperately; smile fading and eyes full of a protective streak she’d become accustomed to.
“Be careful.” He practically growled.
“I’m going to Camelot Enterprise Arthur, not to war.” She joked. Judging by the way they both flinched inwardly at the words, perhaps it still not appropriate to joke about war. They’d just witnessed a colossal one, one that had torn apart this world. Once recovered from the sharp images stabbing his mind at the word war, he sighed.
“It’s not going to be easy.”
Morgana smiled regretfully at him and pulled him into a tight embrace.
“I know.”
Pressing his eyes shut, Arthur held onto her. He tried to engrave this memory into his mind forever. Her warm skin against his, their hearts beating together, his sister so close and safe. By the time he’d started to try, the warmth was gone. The distance returned. Bu
t it would be nothing compared to the distance that was coming. He grappled for words clumsily, the water in his eyes exposing itself.
“Just…watch…your…” slapping a hand across his face to briskly wipe any water that trickled down, betraying him, he studied the ground. “…Watch your back.”
“Still treating me like a child?” she asked coyly, though there was no element of joy in her voice or expression.
“Well,” he choked, managing to hold the upset at bay for a few more moments. The look of affection he cast her was one Morgana would cherish. “You are my little sister.”
With that, Morgana tore her vision away from Arthur. She walked towards the helicopter, into the blazing sunlight ahead; into the unknown. Arthur watched solemnly, so engrossed in the moment he barely noticed Merlin had returned to his side. Resolutely, she stepped inside the helicopter. Once final glance thrown over her shoulder was for Arthur alone. He caught it urgently, clinging onto it for as long as he possibly could. The glance could not be held forever. It escapes his clutches. Suddenly, the door was slamming and the helicopter was lifting into the air. Morgana was inclined to press her hand against the glass for a moment and then decided against the action. Arthur’s eyes trailed after the helicopter as it slowly rose from the forest clearing into the air. His eyes were watery, his breath ragged.
Then Aithusa landed elegantly beside him on the forest floor. At first he did not spot that mischievous smile skewered across her reptilian mouth. When he did, he returned the look. Without hesitation, Arthur leapt onto her back and ascended into the air. Holding a hand to his mouth in mirth, Merlin grinned at the sight. Arthur and Aithusa flew into the air after the helicopter. To say the White Dragon startled Leon would be an understatement. The helicopter gave a light jolt, enough to stir Morgana from her solemn thoughts. She lifted her head and broke into a peal of vivid laughter. Aithusa and Arthur were floating along beside them. Then they twirled impressively around them to the other side, and then they were diving in and out of the clouds.
They danced this way, machine and dragon for some time, Arthur smiling at his sister through the glass. They danced until the helicopter reached the edge of Saerion; the edge of Albion. There was a final silent goodbye, a final wave. Then Aithusa and Arthur were suspended in motion as the aircraft departed over the reefs and across the ocean. They stayed that way until the helicopter was nothing more than a spec on the horizon. Neither said a word, eyes fixated ahead. Then, finally, they flew back to Iaonem.
♦☼♦
“I’m…sorry that Morgana has gone.” Merlin muttered over to Arthur when he sat down. The pair were on top of a large rock, legs dangling over the edge. It gave them a brilliant view of Iaonem; you could see all the Ealden people from here. Glancing over to the Druid with a resigned smile, Arthur fiddled with the moss covering a rock beside him.
“She wanted to go,” he admitted, ducking his head when Merlin looked over. “she will make amends for our father’s wrongdoings on earth.” Tossing a bit of moss over the edge they sat, he offered Merlin a pensive stare. Instantly, the warmth left his eyes. “She will do something I never could.”
Instinctively, Merlin leant closer.
“You belong here, it’s your destiny.”
“I know.” His serious tone descended into a playful one. “You’ve only told me about a thousand times-”
Merlin laughed.
“-And I’ll tell you a thousand more if that’s what it will take for it to sink into that thick skull of yours-”
Raising his eyebrows, Arthur gazed over at Merlin in amusement.
“-Now who sounds like a dollophead-”
“-You can’t just use my insults Arthur-”
“-Shut-up Merlin.” He said with a broad smile on his face. Chuckling silently, Merlin’s eyes crinkled in glee.
Arthur gently shoved him with his shoulder before reaching for one of his hands affectionately. For a moment, the content resonating from Arthur’s eyes was enough to console Merlin. The pair gazed out, admiring their people who courageously continued to renew their way of life before everything had drastically been altered. They had been through so much, endured so much suffering. They were so strong; the Ealdor clan was stronger than it ever had been, closer and far more familial. It couldn’t stay this way, however. They had to leave Iaonem soon, they had to adapt to a real home. Merlin wasn’t sure if there even was a real home for them. His eyes dimmed, face contorted grimly.
“I’ve been thinking,” he admitted solemnly, finally revealing what had been on his chest all week to Arthur. Swallowing, he cleared his dry throat in preparation for his next words. “…Dresdentian has offered us refuge, as has Saerion and Ghedent, but…” Merlin sighed, bowing his head dismally. “It…It doesn’t feel…” he paused, struggling to articulate himself. There were so many spectacular places in Albion, so many visions of beauty; though none were ever quite like their home had been. “…It’s not Ealdor.” He concluded honestly, removing his hand from Arthur’s to massage his throbbing head.
Considering the situation they were discussing, Arthur had remained strangely quiet and distant. Not once had he tried to console or comfort, but then why would he? Ealdor was gone; Merlin understood that. No words would bring it back, no words would make it right; and Merlin also understood the immeasurable guilt and shame Arthur felt, still believing all of this destruction was caused by his own actions. But none of this explained the peculiar glint in the blonde’s eyes, his disappearance for most of the week.
Abruptly, Arthur got onto his feet. There was a bounce to his step, enhancing the twinkle behind his sapphire orbs. Merlin gazed up at him in confusion, expecting some kind of answer to this odd behaviour. Exhaling dramatically, Arthur ran a hand through his blonde hair before turning decisively to Merlin.
“Come with me.”
Now Merlin really was confused. Narrowing his eyes, he remained seated.
“Wh-…now?” gazing around in disbelief, Merlin laughed incredulously. “We’re kind of in the middle of a conversation, an important one-” his tone bordered patronising, evidently annoyed at Arthur’s odd dismissal.
“-Well,” the blonde prat said vaguely, making a rather unclear hand gesture. He was clearly focused on something else. “Just hold whatever thought you’re holding for another…” distractedly he waved over towards Aithusa who ascended into the air towards them. “Hour or so-”
“-Arthur!” Merlin protested as he leapt to his feet. He was to say the least a little stunned by Arthur’s blasé attitude and sudden change of demeanour. Within seconds, Aithusa was hovering beside the rocky terrain. Arthur had already climbed onto her back and was slowly drifting away.
“Just. Call Kilgarrah and follow Aithusa and I- okay?” No, it was not okay! But hell Merlin was so bewildered and curious about Arthur’s spontaneous, radical actions that he just had to follow now. Quickly, he spoke in his mind to the Golden Dragon of old. Kilgarrah reached the stone; leaving the pair enough time to decipher what direction Aithusa and Arthur had sped off in.
Catching up to Aithusa and her golden rider, Merlin steered Kilgarrah closer to them. Gently the two Dragon’s nudged each other. Arthur glanced over to Merlin, expression neutral and concealing. It frustrated Merlin even further, he found he had to bite his tongue in fear he would spew a list of unappealing adjectives and start a real fight with Arthur and gods they hadn’t had one of those for months. Averting his away, Merlin told himself he was just imagining the small upwards incline of the White Dragon’s lips, because Dragon’s didn’t smirk or smile. As he studied the woodland beneath them, Merlin allowed the adrenaline of flying to fill him. It had been hard this week, letting everything go – it was impossible not to think.
But now, floating gracefully through the air, the wind smacking against his face in a refreshing manner, it was hard to think. Gazing back over to Arthur, Merlin felt his lips twitch. Arthur knew how to make everything better somehow, to let him forget, just for a few minutes. Fly
ing, it was just what he needed right now, an escape. A small laugh escaped his lips as Aithusa playfully swerved towards Kilgarrah and set them off-balance. Kilgarrah huffed indignantly, unimpressed by the childish behaviour. Arthur grinned and for good measure made Aithusa do it again; they narrowly missed the jet of fire that left Kilgarrah’s mouth. The fire crackled in the air, fizzling out vividly in bursts of crimson and amber against the cerulean sky.
“Whoa, play nice Kilg,” Arthur called teasingly from Aithusa, his voice full of smugness and everything Merlin had once hated. Merlin had to stifle his amusement in fear of Kilgarrah shoving him off. Dragonlord or not, there was only so far a legendary creature could be pushed.
Albion really was a staggering sight from up here. Arthur was reminded of his first flight over the land. Back when Camelot Enterprise had first arrived here. He had been in a machine, hovering over the landscape, uncertain of what was to come. Flying on a Dragon enriched the whole experience. Arthur wasn’t watching Albion anymore, or taking it in. Arthur was part of Albion; he was breathing it, living it, tasting it in his lungs, and feeling it against his face. The magnificent forests beneath them stretched out across the horizon. There were occasional landmarks where Albion revealed its diverse range of habitats.
To their right, Arthur spotted the desert plains, the Perilous Lands. From up their altitude, Arthur could barely make out the tower in the centre of the desert that had been the focus of his quest. The memory of that adventure flushed through his system; Manticore, crumbling towers, the Trident. Back when it had all barely started to begin. He caught the knowing smile on Merlin’s lips before the Druid was able to hide it. Arthur returned the gesture, thinking back on the memories.
The state of languid relaxation and joy subsided as a black, charred landscape came into sight on the near horizon. Merlin gripped Kilgarrah’s scales tighter, eyes stinging and heart racing. Arthur gestured for Aithusa to pick up speed, not wanting to dwell over the tormenting devastation below. They flew silently over the ruins of Ealdor, or what was left of it. The great Crystal Cave was no longer identifiable. It was ashes. The forest around was trampled, blackened with soot and dirt. Scars of weaponry slashed the earth open, the wounds still bled violently out across the plains. It was a distressing sight. Merlin closed his eyes, unable to deal with the sight.