Merlin Fic: And the World You Promised: Chapter Eleven: You've Got That Young Blood, Set it Free

[jesterladyfic]

Chapter Eleven: You've Got That Young Blood, Set it Free

Merlin’s skin crawled with unused magic and he found himself longing to make smoke figures or fireballs or anything to use some of it up. He was still getting used to himself in so many ways now. Now that he was Emrys fully. Everything had been so mixed up for so long, but now that he had clarity about himself, he had never been more confused. Just like his destiny, he thought grimly, to be so backwards.

Still, at least now he was doing something. He was riding, going out to face the enemy, not spending his time trying to justify himself, not only in his own mind, but to everyone he loved. Merlin bounced along on his horse, just behind Arthur, mind free to contemplate and plan.

He’d spent a good deal of the last few days honing on his magic, trying to understand it, to find the changes that had been made to him in the Cave and at Avalon. Gaius had woken several mornings to sounds of an explosion in Merlin’s room as he fought to contain all of his power. Merlin didn’t know whether it was his nerves or the final battle looming, but he kept losing control, especially after particularly stressful planning sessions. He hadn’t lost control in front of anyone but Gaius, but it had forced him to keep an extremely close watch on himself, to be more disciplined and secretive with his magic just when the secret of his having it was out. He still didn’t know exactly how much power he had, but now he did know how to keep it to himself unless needed. He’d made, well, he’d made mental shields around it, that was the only way he could find to describe it. He was rather proud of them actually.

But it wasn’t just his magic that made him feel stressed. Everything was different now. Merlin had been fully exposed to all of Camelot’s knights, branded a friend, and identified as someone to be trusted. But being told that didn’t make it so in people’s minds. The people he knew best, the ones who didn’t know the things he’d done, didn’t look at him differently. Leon had probably had the hardest time with it, but Percival seemed to have taken everything in stride just fine. Merlin supposed it was because Percival didn’t come from Camelot and had only been exposed to the horrors of magic through Morgana.

It was reassuring in a way to know that those he counted closest to him were willing to see past the lies, but not everyone had.

Arthur was trying his best, but Merlin could tell how disturbed he was by Merlin’s confession days before. And Merlin couldn’t blame him for that. Still, though Arthur insulted him and fought with him and actually kept publically affirming him, everything he spoke rang hollow with Merlin, because he knew it was all an act. Something to keep Arthur’s façade of being in control in place until this was over and he could privately take Merlin’s head off. Probably only figuratively.

Of course the worst thing was Gwen. She’d been his biggest advocate since he’d come home to Camelot and then…then her face as he’d told her the truth. It had been hard enough telling Arthur, but then he’d told Arthur more details because it had just been too much to go into everything so thoroughly a second time. And Arthur perhaps understood making those kinds of life and death decisions better than Gwen did. Not that she hadn’t had to make hard choices, to do things no one should ever have to do, including killing, but it wasn’t as natural a part of her life as it was Arthur’s.

And Merlin had hurt her, hurt her with the knowledge that he was capable of such things. Most people would never think it of him, he didn’t let them, putting on the charade that made him seem completely disarming to them. He appeared as a foolish manservant, sickly good and weak, loyal to a fault, and unable to think of wicked things. And, of course, Gwen had never been so taken in by his act as most others had, but he’d taken great care to hide the darker parts of himself from her. He was paying for it now because she’d barely been able to look at him since he’d told her. It made his heart hurt to think of it.

Though there was hope because these past few days she had always agreed with him in the council over Arthur when Arthur wouldn’t see reason, which was pretty much all the time, in Merlin’s opinion. And when she’d said goodbye, she hadn’t just asked for Arthur’s protection, but for Merlin’s. That was the greatest gift he could have asked for under the circumstances and he strove to keep thinking of that, to let her memory of him be that, and his memory of her be one of forgiveness.

Because Merlin didn’t know what lay ahead of him. His destiny had slowly wound for years, ever twisting around dark corners until he’d wanted to scream with frustration. But now there was light ahead, a straight path, leading straight to Morgana, and while he was so very powerful, so very full of magic, he did not know the future. He had had no vision to help him, no advice from Kilgharrah, no message from the Druids.

He was on his own and, while he knew he could fight, knew he could unleash power; he was also bound by restraints that Morgana was not. He would not kill unless it was absolutely necessary and he was fearful for the lives of those around him. She would also have Aithusa on her side and he was not sure how well he could do against both of them. Hopefully Arthur and his knights could hold off one of them long enough for him to dispatch the other and that would allow him time for a fair fight with the remaining foe.

Aithusa was the other variable in this equation that he did not quite know how to deal with, a mystery he still did not understand. What the dragon had been through and how Morgana had become so important to Aithusa, Merlin didn’t know. It had horrified Merlin to discover the misshapen form of Aithusa under Ismere and then to realize that it was Morgana who had saved the dragon and bonded with Aithusa and taught so much evil to… it was unthinkable, especially for a Dragonlord. Merlin felt his responsibility as such keenly and he knew he’d failed Aithusa mightily somehow, though he didn’t know how he could have done differently. Both he and Kilgharrah had mourned the day when Aithusa had disappeared from the elder dragon’s care and had not been seen since. Merlin had tried calling for the white dragon to no avail.

So now Merlin would face two old friends and have to possibly destroy them. Merlin felt physically sick at the idea of killing a dragon. He had been too busy at Camlann to pay much attention to Aithusa, intent on finding Arthur and Mordred, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t pained Merlin to command Aithusa the way that he had. Now who knew what the dragon thought and felt about the way Merlin had acted or what Morgana would ask? Three times now he’d had to order Aithusa to not use dragon powers for ill; he didn’t know what the outcome of the fourth would be.

The scouts had placed Morgana in the Forest of Essetir, or just outside it. It made terrible sense to Merlin, after all, she’d once found a home within its shelter, only to have it torn from her.

So he'd gone out to make sure she was there, taking Arthur with him on Arthur's insistence. That had been one very tense ride. It had ended with Morgana confronting them.

It had not been a good conversation. She had been cold, unyielding and Merlin had simply felt guilt, so much guilt that he'd barely taken part in the conversation. Arthur had borne the brunt of it, but in the end Merlin had foolishly reached out to Morgana again and something had been set off in her. Her tenuous hold on reality had slipped, he could see practically see it. Gone was the compassionate and articulate woman who had so often stood up for the downtrodden. She was consumed by her own injustice, her own past, her own perceived ideas about the world and their future. It was the most tragic thing he'd ever seen.

In the end he'd had to transport him and Arthur back to Camelot by magic. He'd never attempted it before but he'd known they could not face Morgana at that time. It might have ended the way he'd wanted it to, but he'd still been struggling with keeping his magic in check. The teleport had been a huge drain on his power, but actually freeing. It had given him the time he'd needed to contain the rest, the breathing space to understand himself more.

It had obviously bothered Arthur and their confrontation with Morgana had clearly made Arthur nervous again. He'd been even more on edge since then and Merlin hadn't thought that had been possible.

Now they were riding to find her once again and he’d been reaching out with his senses the whole way, trying to find her, but she was either purposefully shielding herself or they were going in the wrong direction. He thought it was the former, because regardless of the condition of her mind, she obviously wanted his and Arthur’s heads and she wouldn’t let them go the wrong way for long.

Though, that was debatable given the havoc she’d wreaked among several villages, the inane babbling they’d reported issuing from her mouth. Merlin did not want to face a Morgana gone mad, she was dangerous enough when she was fully in control of her faculties, and he didn’t want to see anything that might make him hesitate to strike a fatal blow. Because it had to end. It had to end this way.

Perhaps with his death; if that’s what he was given all this extra magic for, then so be it. Merlin would gladly give his life for Camelot, for Arthur, for the freedom it would bring if Merlin took her down with him. He longed for peace. He’d seen too much of death and misery and decay and pain. So much blood and twisting of human nature. It made him sick because that was not what life was for. He knew that with the very fiber of his being, so, yes, an ultimate sacrifice denied to him for so long, would not be out of the question.

Merlin did not like to think of his own death though. He’d long ago accepted it as a possibility, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. There were times when it seemed the better option, a measure of peace in the midst of his frantic life, but those thoughts never clung to him for long, only in his blackest moments. Merlin was someone who loved life, who loved the vitality of it. He’d lost too many of those he’d loved, sent too many to their long rest, to not understand how precious was each moment of life. So he would fight.

Arthur held up his hand, slowing to a halt, and Merlin realized they were near their location.

“Everyone be on high alert,” Arthur's clear voice echoed back down the ranks.

Merlin closed his eyes and let his magic flow from him, invisible, on the wind, looking for traces of Morgana. He ignored everything around him, including Arthur as he asked inane questions. The smell of brimstone came to Merlin and he instantly straightened up.

“The dragon is here,” he said. “Morgana cannot be far away.”

“And you know you can control the dragon?” Arthur asked even though they’d gone over it a hundred times back at Camelot.

“Aithusa obeyed me at Camlann,” Merlin reminded Arthur patiently.

“I know,” Arthur said curtly.

Leon rode up, glancing uneasily at Merlin before speaking.

“Our scouts show a bonfire in the field before the forest. I think she is waiting for us, Sire.”

Arthur nodded.

“Then we will not disappoint her. Have everyone be on their guard, she is not to be trifled with and there is the dragon to contend with. Do you see any men?”

“A few guards, no more. The Saxons were too largely dispersed after the battle.”

“Then let us use our numbers to our advantage. Are you ready, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

Merlin smiled.

“I think I’d like to go cower behind a table or something actually, Sire.”

“Tough, your cowering days are behind you,” Arthur said, a hint of his old arrogance in his voice. “Now do as your King commands.”

“Whatever you wish, King Dollophead,” Merlin muttered under his breath.

Arthur glared at him with the exact right amount of ire and Merlin felt suddenly happy.

Arthur wheeled his horse away and Leon made to follow him, but then turned back to Merlin, who waited, worried about what Leon would say.

"I-I've seen terrible things happen with magic," Leon said. "I'm supposed to hate it." Merlin simply nodded and kept waiting. "But you- well, I can give you the benefit of the doubt. I hope this battle will prove you right."

"You and me both," said Merlin, smiling wanly. "I appreciate that. We shall see."

Leon nodded and then turned his horse to follow Arthur.

They approached the field and a great wall of flame rose to meet them. The horses all reared and bolted; a few knights, including Arthur, kept theirs through sheer horsemanship and trust, and Merlin through magic, but most of the knights were on the ground.

Merlin hadn’t sensed anything before the attack and he wondered what new magic Morgana had acquired that masked her intent so well.

Then the low flying figure of Aithusa could be seen wheeling toward them from the southeast. More fire rose behind them, ringing them in entirely. There would be no fleeing, it was win or die.

A small black figure stood in front of the flames.

“Emrys!” called Morgana, her voice high pitched to such intensity it hurt Merlin’s ears. “Emrys, show yourself!”

Merlin rode forward, Arthur beside him.

“Morgana,” Merlin said.

“Why do you hide behind Merlin?” she asked, circling to and fro, restless. “You are no little servant, leeching power from behind the throne. You are Emrys! Emrys! Emrys!”

Arthur stared at her in fear as her screams continued to fill the air.

“Why do you fear me so, Morgana?” Merlin asked quietly, gathering his power.

“I do not fear you, I loathe you,” she screamed out and fire started to crackle around her. “You are the bane of my existence. If it weren’t for you none of this would have happened.”

“You had your part to play, Morgana, and you played it with relish,” Merlin said gently.

“Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night, little Merlin?” she said, a twisting smile curving on her face. “Well, no longer, for tonight will see the end. I will be your doom and not the other way around, no matter how many old crones tell me different! I will bleed my dear brother dry and make you watch your own failure before I finally tear your heart out.”

Arthur swallowed hard from beside Merlin and pulled out his sword.

“Not tonight, Morgana,” he said firmly. “No more war between us, no more hatred.”

“And you,” Morgana said, sending a fireball heading straight for Arthur. His horse did dump Arthur at that before Merlin could do anything, possibly saving Arthur's life. Arthur scrambled to his feet as Morgana continued her rant. “You, how dare you come before me! And with him. You hunted me, you despised me, you betrayed me, but Merlin reveals himself and you practically make him next in line for the throne!”

“It’s not so,” Arthur said. “You never bothered to come to me, Morgana. I would have helped you. But you betrayed me, tried to kill the woman I love, tried to take my kingdom. Merlin may have lied, but he never did that.”

“I guess he always did come first,” Morgana said, “or it would never have mattered. And it matters not now. You killed Mordred! You may not die at his hand as was destined to be because of Emrys. The two of you are not worthy to walk upon this earth. Aithusa!” she said, throwing back her head.

The knights had remained behind them, gathering the horses they could, watching the forest beyond the flames, but now they ducked as the white dragon flew overhead, belching out more flame, scattering them again.

Merlin didn’t have time to think, knowing he couldn’t fight both of them at the same time. So he roared out with his dragon’s voice, calling for Aithusa to stop the bloodshed, to not kill, jumped off his horse, and then ran straight for Morgana.

Arthur ran with him.

“You should protect your men,” Merlin said.

“Who’s going to protect you?” Arthur asked.

“That’s my job,” Merlin said. “Now go save your men.”

Arthur glanced behind them and whatever he saw made his eyes widen because he slowed, as if unsure.

“Call if you need me,” he yelled and then ran back in the other direction.

“Just us, Emrys,” Morgana called, her voice a purring, grating sound. “Why do you hide so, show us yourself, show us Emrys.”

Merlin straightened up and obliged her, he became Emrys, his youth falling away, yet the vitality of his magic became stronger as he shed the shields he’d built around himself to keep his magic from exploding into full force.

It was time to stop running and fully embrace his destiny.

Her eyes widened and she took a step back before she glowered and started hurling fire at him.

He blocked each blow easily, reaching inside himself, not bothering to incant spells, simply using the innate magic that was a part of who he was.

She blocked his blows almost as easily as he did hers, but then she flew backwards, bouncing off the wall of fire behind her as if it was solid. The flames flickered on her black dress, not seeming to hurt her.

He was impressed in spite of himself, she’d clearly been practicing.

“High Priestess indeed,” he said. “Oh, what good you could have done if only you’d bothered to try.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she hissed, and a black bolt of power came hurtling at him, knocking him to his knees.

He groaned with the effort of standing. He’d more access to his magic this way, but his bones were more brittle. He forged a staff in his hand to help him better focus the magic and send lightening toward her.

She spun through the air, landing flat on her back, then was back up and throwing more magic at him.

It seemed to last forever, the volley of power between them, the ground was rent and tattered with their war, the flames raging higher and higher as if urged on by their battle.

Sometime in the midst of it all, the fire and the disorientation and the focus, Merlin realized there were screams echoing around him. He chanced a glance behind him and saw that his hold over Aithusa was weak at best. The dragon was still fighting, still keeping the knights from going anywhere. If ever Aithusa did manage to break away from Merlin’s command the knights would instantly be killed as easily as insects under a boot. Merlin whirled to help them, to call to Aithusa again, when a sudden blast from Morgana dropped him to his knees and he was lost to the explosion and heat of defending himself from harm.

His best option was to finish her quickly. Merlin hadn’t exactly been playing with her, but he hadn’t been just holding his own either. He was better than her, that had always been true, but he’d never felt the need to put her in her place before. He’d always been hidden, held back by his secret, but no more. He let the magic flow through himself with alacrity and skill, no longer denying himself, no longer denying what he’d become.

He felt taller, like the earth and sky and sea themselves were at his command, and he rose hills before him to protect him and drew forth rain from the heavens to quench the flames and sent wind to distract and light to illuminate and fire to kill. For this was the end, the end of Morgana and all the horror she’d unleashed upon the world. The end of the travesty that was her life. She faltered beneath his onslaught, his true power, and she was lost from his sight under the mantle of his magic. He could feel compassion in himself as he flew into the air itself and landed in front of her broken body.

“Is this really what you wanted, Morgana? Is this the end you desired?” he asked, preparing for the final blow.

She glared up at him with such hatred, such madness in her eyes, that he could only feel pity.

“I am what I am because of you,” she hissed out. “Perhaps your magic is greater, but I shall take what you love. I shall make you fail.”

His look of pity turned to alarm as she glanced behind him and whispered words he understood with cold clarity.

Her power flew past him to where Arthur was standing, watching, sword upraised. The King of Camelot fell with a cry and Merlin cried out.

He called for Arthur’s sword instinctively and it flew into his hands like it belonged there, perhaps it did, and he brought it down upon Morgana, clutching her to him as he had once before, cradling her as she fell to the ground.

“The time for all this bloodshed is over. I blame myself for what you've become. But this has to end."

"I am a High Priestess," she said, gasping, "no mortal blade can kill me."

"This is no mortal blade," he said. "Like yours, it was forged on a dragon's breath. Goodbye, Morgana."

Her eyes glazed over and then her life faded from her and a great evil was purged from the world and she finally looked peaceful and while Merlin felt the importance of that, his only concern was Arthur.

There was a sense of another presence around him, the scream of a dragon and the roar of flames, the yelling of men in fear, but Merlin ignored that, running for where Arthur had fallen.