Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Why did you never tell me?"

"I wanted to, but..."

"But what?" Arthur lifted his head to look at him, searching his face for any hint that might give away what he was thinking. Scrutinizing every muscle movement in his expressions, like it might reveal the person who was really in front of him, wearing his friend’s skin. Betrayal, shock, and grief wrestled in his mind and weighed on his chest. He half expected to see a new face or hear a different voice, an off tone, a misplaced phrase, anything to signal a spell or possession or reveal some reality that wasn’t this. He sought a reality he could scramble to fix but not this one. Not one where his closest companion, the only other to ever witness his vulnerability, the only one who ever got to glimpse his soul, was a liar.

It was all too overwhelming.  

"You'd have chopped my head off." Merlin ended with a half-hearted laugh, feeling every bit as scared and uncomfortable as he was sure he looked. He tried to relax his features and retreated his hands to his lap, despite desperately wanting to fuss over Arthur and his wounds, emotional and physical, to regain the years-long connection that feels like it’d completely blown up in the past hour, but knowing that a bit of space was likely the best course of action.

Arthur blinked. His spiraling thoughts silenced by Merlin’s words. He thought he would be executed. By my father... by me. He knew if he was found out that he could be killed, and he still chose to stay.

A new wave of grief pulled on Arthur’s heart, his stomach sinking. He looked again at his friend sitting in front of him, studying his features once more but still finding the same Merlin he’d become so fond of. That same Merlin who’d spent a third of his life treading cautiously through every interaction, always just one hiccup away from certain death.

All these years..

"I'm not sure what I'd have done." His head began throbbing harder. Arthur cast his eyes down where his open palms rested on his knees. Guilt pierced through him, the pain rivaling that of his pulsing wound. As the realization of this reality settled in, Arthur tried to focus on his outstretched fingers, watching everything he thought he’d known slip through them. All of the assurance he'd held in his actions and decisions over the years vanished more and more. He saw Merlin’s face in every proud memory. He could still recall each counsel, still hear the passion in Merlin’s voice when he had delivered particularly inspiring speeches. Words that Arthur still clung to in moments of darkness and doubt. 

This is really happening, Arthur thought.

His dearest companion had torn his soul in two in a matter of moments and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to hate him. His anger and betrayal now dampened by guilt and shame. He recognized the same broken heart that beat fainter by the minute in his own chest was too carried by his friend. If anything, he couldn’t understand how he hadn't seen it sooner. 

He had always suspected he'd had a guardian angel watching over him. Or maybe some type of divine luck. All of the conveniently clumsy bandits, sturdy tree limbs breaking at the perfect time, expertly covered tracks, rarely getting lost... Merlin never succumbing to a fatal blow. He never even wore armor into battle. Except when he insisted on being used as bait when we ... Arthur lightly shook his head, pushing that ill timed thought away and reigniting the growing headache behind his eyes.

He always made it. We always made it. Have I really always been so blind?

"And I didn't want to put you in that position." Merlin said, meeting Arthur’s eyes with his own. His nervousness had vanished and shifted into something more solid and confident. He stared back at Arthur with a look of fealty and fondness.

Arthur drew a sharp breath at Merlin’s gaze, intense and familiar. His brows creased, his expression full of wonder as his friend's words dawned on him. 

"That's what worried you?"  All of this time... execution looming over your shoulder and you didn't want to put ME in a difficult position. You didn't want me to bear your burden..

Merlin eyes remained fixated on Arthur’s face, the face of his king, staring with admiration. "Some people are born to plough fields, some live to be great physicians, others... to be great Kings." The corner of his mouth gave away a faint smile as he continued, "Me, I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I wouldn't change a thing."

Arthur's jaw fell, blown away by the man staring back at him, the spitting image of devotion. Arthur felt at that moment that the air between them was the most familiar it’d been since Merlin had first uttered "I'm a sorcerer". Better even, he’d thought, because this crushing distance he’d felt between them finally started to close. Merlin's words were comforting. His indisputable passion and loyalty even more so. And this time, something was different. Something between them felt more open, more free. He felt like he was really seeing Merlin. He felt steadied by the fiery blue eyes that spoke of pride and devotion, flicking between his hair, eyes, nose, and lips, never once leaving his face, like he was taking him all in. Studying him as if this were his last chance.

And didn't that thought hit like a blow to the chest... Arthur's expression faltered, but for only a moment. He didn't want his impending doom, nor his lingering emotions, to sour one of their best and maybe last moments. 

No , he thought. Let him remember us as this.  

He held Merlin's gaze, blinking away the burning sensation in his eyes so that he could see Merlin clearly. So that he could study him too, to commit his every feature to memory. He thought of the boy he met all those years ago as he looked at the man who sat in front of him now. He'd never spent too much time thinking about his future with Merlin. Never allowed himself to think long of dreams when he had duties. But he had always seen Merlin with him anyways, wherever that may be. After the first few years of his service, Arthur had stopped worrying that Merlin might move back to Ealdor. He'd heard Merlin call Camelot his home. Over time, Arthur had begun to view Merlin as much a part of Camelot as he saw himself. Maybe he should feel naive to think so, since Merlin didn't have the noble status, but after all they’d done together, status had become mute to Arthur. The two of them were a package deal.

All the places I've been, all the situations I've found myself in, I've always felt at home when I'm with him. 

Arthur’s smile grew, soft and sincere. He let himself admire the way Merlin's raven hair shone in the sun, outlining the contours of his face, a stark contrast to his light skin. Arthur noticed the way Merlin's neckerchief, sporting Camelot red, shifted to the side, disturbed by the breeze, and he dropped his gaze to Merlin's neck. His eyes followed the soft pink blush that began to creep up the pale stretch of skin, dotting along his jaw, traveling all the way to the tops of his sharp, pretty cheekbones. Arthur met his eyes again, allowing himself to stare as long as he pleased this time, until he could spot the few golden flecks scattered among the deep blue. 

He is beautiful. Arthur thought to himself, or said, he wasn't sure. 

Once he realized that this moment could be one of their last, he stopped worrying how he might be perceived. Stopped caring if his feelings might be written all over his face. 

It seems all of the worrying never protected me anyways.  

For the first time in his life, his walls were all down and he let his thoughts roam. All ties of duty and honor and expectation that have always been so tightly wrapped around him, binding him to a life he didn't choose, loosened and fell away until it was just this moment, this space, just him and Merlin. He wanted to live in this moment as long as possible.

He felt a warm breath over his nose and lips and realized he’d been leaning into Merlin’s space. He felt his own cheeks warm as his pulse jumped. He tilted his head to look at Merlin's mouth, his neck, his broad chest that was moving up and down rather quickly now, before dragging his eyes slowly back up to his mouth again.

I want him. Gods how I want him. 

He felt high with how free he was being with himself. Free and honest and without bounds even if it was just with his own thoughts. 

Finally , he thought. At least for a moment, I can finally have this.

Arthur watched Merlin’s tongue swipe over his bottom lip, leaving the rosy skin there glistening. His breath caught and he bit down on his bottom lip. He wanted to be sure, he had to be. Arthur dared to meet Merlin’s eyes once more and saw undeniable desire reflected back at him. Relief and excitement let out a surprised huff of breath as he dropped his gaze to Merlin’s parted lips once more and leaned forward, his shoulders just lifting off of the tree that’d been keeping him upright… he immediately hissed at the pain he felt shoot through his abdomen where his wound was deepest, slicing through the private, intimate bubble they'd shared. Arthur doubled over blinded by pain, his head hitting Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin grabbed Arthur by his shoulders trying to prop him upright where they sat, a worried expression returning to his flushed face from the moment cut short. He wasn't sure what to think of what had just passed between them, all he was sure of was that his brain was a scrambled mess. His heart still felt like it was pounding against his chest. Because only a moment ago, Arthur had been leaning in closer to him. Merlin had felt his cheeks were on fire. Because Arthur was staring at his mouth and his neck , looking at him like he wanted to eat him. He knew they had... moments before, but never so... palpable. Never so raw. And besides, he couldn't let himself dwell on them. He was Arthur's servant and friend, of which Arthur had few he could really trust. So it made sense that Arthur would be so close sometimes before being pulled in a thousand different directions by the entirety of the kingdom. That's what Merlin had always told himself anyways. Arthur definitely wasn't part of the reason he hadn't pursued anyone else since Freya, even though he'd had quite a few offers. But they weren't what he wanted. Weren't who he wanted, and that's as far as he would think on that. There was no use dreaming about things that could never be when he had a destiny to fulfill. But now…

No , he thought grimly. There will be no dreaming to do if Arthur dies today anyway.

Merlin took a calming breath and tried to speak softly, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "We need to continue on, Arthur,” his voice still sounded more rough than he’d hoped.

Arthur tried to breathe through the pain, trying to come back to himself, focusing on Merlin’s hand on his shoulder and the comforting circular motion of his thumb. After another moment of trying to catch his breath, Arthur spoke. 

"Alright. But it's only because I'm saying so," was all he could manage, his weakened voice not quite landing the playful jibe he’d been aiming for to ease Merlin's concern. He couldn't see Merlin's face from where he had his forehead pressed against the crook of Merlin's neck, but if his tense muscles were anything to go by, worry was written all over it. So Arthur focused all of his energy on trying to stand up and hold his own weight, but with little success in the state he was in.

"Of course, sire." Merlin said with a small, sad smile on his lips as he helped lift his king to his feet, leaning Arthur's weight fully along his side, wrapping an arm around his King's waist and pulling Arthur's arm across his shoulders. Merlin began to guide him to their horses quickly yet cautiously so as to not send Arthur into another fit of pain.

I can feel it inside him, Merlin thought, panic rising in his throat, killing him slowly. Ripping him on the inside. I need to come up with something else, and fast. I cannot lose him. I will not.

Chapter Text

They were moving with surprising ease when Merlin's boot tripped over a stone caked with mud, just barely poking up out of the ground, hardly visible. 

“Oh fu-,” He gasped, losing balance and feeling Arthur follow. Panicked, he spun around to catch Arthur, splaying his hands across Arthur’s chest plate while his knees hit the ground, bracing for impact.

Arthur landed on Merlin with a heavy oomph , all of the air that had filled his lungs rushed out of him, intensifying the pain of his injury. He hung on Merlin's shoulders trying to right himself but the world around him was spinning and he had to concentrate to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged. Which was especially inconvenient at the moment since he had some choice words for the clumsy idiot that just nearly dropped him in the mud.

 "Sorry!" Merlin yelped, wincing as he scanned Arthur for any further damages. He looked to the growing bloodstain on the belly of Arthur’s tunic and paled. He could feel bile rising and burning the back of his throat as waves of guilt and shame and panic washed over him, threatening to consume him. 

Come on, Merlin. Just breathe, he told himself. 

He was scrambling his brain trying to think of something, anything, that could heal this, and instead here he was, acting as a catalyst and making Arthur worse. He couldn't imagine how Arthur must be feeling. His destiny needs him and he can’t even—

"Do you think, Merlin, that you could be less of a clumsy oaf when you're trying to keep me from dying?" Arthur said through gritted teeth, interrupting Merlin’s downward spiral of self criticism. Arthur rolled his eyes at the man, too pained to follow with more playful insults the way he usually would. Or to express any amusement at the fact that Merlin, an alleged powerful sorcerer, could call lightning down from the heavens but not walk in a straight line. Not without breaking something at least. In this case, Arthur. 

Arthur’s eyes widened in disbelief as he was lifted like a child back to his feet, Merlin's arms hooked under his own and wrapped around his back, surprisingly gentle, pulling him up and fitting him right back where he was along Merlin’s side. He openly gawked at Merlin, unsure how he felt about another man, Merlin of all people, lifting him like he weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Why in the world would it be bringing a blush to his cheeks?

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, shifting next to him and beginning to walk on. He didn’t seem to pick up on the internal battle Arthur was having with his thoughts since he was far too busy with his own. He couldn’t even respond to Arthur’s jibe, there was so much on the line and he needed yet to find a better solution.

The Sidhe have tried to take Arthur twice now and that’s just the times he was aware of. 

Who knows what they could be plotting? And I could be delivering Arthur right to them on a silver platter.  

Merlin gave a small shake of his head and refocused his attention on trying to read Arthur. He gave the blonde knight a once over, noting the clamminess and sweating, with reddened cheeks and staring back at Merlin with wide eyes like he’d just sprouted a tail.

“What is it? Are you feeling feverish? Can you still breathe alright?” Merlin asked in a rush.

 Arthur choked on his breath, more than a little embarrassed that he was apparently so noticeably flustered that Merlin thought he had a fever. But he supposed he could easily write that off as a symptom of dying, so he didn’t dwell on it. 

“I just should’ve known. All that time, having your friends and my horses carry our things for you and you were just being lazy.” He glared at his servant but couldn’t hide the affection in his eyes as Merlin’s worried expression dropped to one of annoyance.

 “Oh c'mon, like I ever get help carrying equipment! And saddlebags are just that, made to hang on saddles . Not to be piled up on me while I break my back chasing after you and your knights in only your armor and–”

He stopped when he heard Arthur laughing, realizing that he’d risen to the bait. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back an amused smile.

 “Dollophead…” He said, a little relieved to see some of Arthur’s color return and his breaths sounding more even.

 “Still not a word” Arthur replied, fully grinning now at Merlin next to him.

 “Besides,” Merlin continued as if Arthur interrupted, “It’s not like I’m the same bag of bones that I was when I got here from Ealdor. I suppose all of your inhumane ‘trainings’ were good for something. Though there are much better ways I should think of buffing somebody up than beating them with a mace.” Merlin raised an accusing eyebrow in Arthur’s direction. 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I never beat you. It was just…” he paused, smirking at Merlin, “playful slaps…that happened to be with a mace.” 

Arthur watched Merlin’s eyes widen a bit, a crimson color rushing to his face at the memory of them in the armory when Merlin thought he would try and give a taste of his own medicine.

Serves him right, Arthur thought smugly as he watched Merlin’s blush spread down his neck before looking ahead again toward their horses. 

“Ahem, right well we should really continue on to—”

 “Aauugh,” Arthur bent forward, clutching his wound. He’d had a moment of blissful numbness after his tumble but the blood that still remained in his body had once again set his nervous system alight, burning through his torso. The pain was dizzying and he leaned heavily onto Merlin. 

Merlin repositioned Arthur against him and placed his free hand atop Arthur's on his abdomen to apply pressure. He thought of the distance between them and the Lake of Avalon and looked to Arthur at his side. His King's hair and clothes clung to his sweat slicked skin, grey half moons pulled at his eyes, his pale lips trembling a bit as he sucked in painful breaths and tried to keep steady. 

Even without bearing most of his own weight, Arthur was struggling. His head was pounding, he felt extreme nausea, and his body ached and shivered between unbearable waves of sharp pain.

I just need to sit for a minute, Arthur thought, maybe rest my eyes for just a second...  

"Oi, don't you think about giving up on me now" Merlin's words came out soft, but didn't do much to hide the panic in his voice. 

He cupped Arthur's cheek with his hand where his head laid against Merlin's shoulder. He tried to help Arthur lift his head as raised his own eyes to the sky, feeling the burn of tears threatening to blur his vision.  

C’mon...THINK DAMMIT! He is not going to make it to the lake on horseback like this.. even if we manage to avoid any more dangers. If I could just- oh gods… Merlin shook his head at himself, already knowing it was his only choice.

Even if Arthur somehow manages to get past my magic.. I haven’t even considered how this would feel.. Merlin considered a moment longer. . .But I haven't any other options have I?  

"Arthur," Merlin watched Arthur’s fluttering eyelids and shaky breaths as he spoke his next words, "I know this isn’t the best time, but I have to tell you something else that I've kept from you." Arthur's eyebrows creased, a familiar mix of hurt and concern flashing across his face as he fought his eyelids trying to hold contact with Merlin. Without waiting another breath longer…

"Arthur, I'm a dragonlord,” rushed out of him. 

Arthur's eyes widened, another wave of shock and confusion washing over him as he processed his friend’s confession. Again. Arthur immediately remembered the dragonlord, Balinor, that they'd sought out together. He remembered he had seen Merlin cry, but he never got an answer as to why. It was all too much and still didn't make sense.

"Wha-" 

"Arthur, I will answer all of your questions and explain everything to you at some point but right now, I need you to trust me." Merlin kept his gaze on Arthur, eyes pleading, sweat beginning to drip down his face from his hairline as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth waiting for Arthur's reply.  

Arthur stared at him in wonder. How many times was he going to be dumbstruck by the one he thought he knew best? He watched a bead of sweat trickle down Merlin’s long nose, follow the curve of his cupid’s bow, and drip finally from his sharp chin. 

He looks terrified. He’s worried about how I might react.. how I feel. He’s still trying to protect me.  

Arthur let any residual anger and hurt wash out of him. He didn’t care to make his feelings known when Merlin already had punished himself for them, and he was sure that he had a thousand times over. 

Arthur could feel himself just barely beginning to slip away at his edges and let himself sink into Merlin’s side a little bit more. All defenses down. All worries washed aside. 

I need to help him now. He needs me to reassure him, to keep him from his own harsh judgements. I need to be here for him, I will be here for him, as long as I am able.  

He stared into Merlin’s eyes with a look of admiration. How could I ever not trust you?  

Arthur opened his mouth to say the words but opted for a quick nod instead once he felt pain in his chest and lungs from his inhale. It felt his organs were being cut somehow, like he was being run through all over again. He hoped his expression communicated what his voice could not. Merlin took a deep, shaky breath in and slowly released it, slowing his heart rate and concentrating his thoughts. 

“O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"

Arthur felt the ground tremble with Merlin’s shout. He did the best he could to follow Merlin's gaze toward the clouds but it burned too bright and his head felt too heavy. He dropped back against Merlin's shoulder. Within minutes, Kilgarrah's shadow passed over them, like the quick passing of a storm cloud. 

Merlin looked toward the sky to see Kilgarrah lowering onto a small clearing about 20 meters away. 

"C'mon," he whispered, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s back, his other hand now dripping with blood, still pressed to his wound. He began to pull him forward. "Just a little longer, we're almost there" he continued, trying to coax Arthur into staying present with him but also dreading him coming face to face with the Great Dragon he thought he'd killed. 

That is going to be a fun conversation... Merlin said to himself, maneuvering Arthur around the slippery terrain. ... Let's hope it's one I get to have.  

They made it to the clearing, Merlin’s tired arms shaking, feeling sick with uncertainty but determined, jaw set, eyes locked on the dragon. 

"Your King is dying, young warlock. I imagine this is the reason you've summoned me?" Kilgarrah looked down his long snout at the Pendragon slumped in Merlin's arms, struggling to keep his head up, breaths coming in short pants. 

Merlin noted his tone, “Kilgarrah, please. I know I have ignored your advice, I should’ve listened. And for that, I am truly sorry. I wish I could change it but I can’t. I need your help. I plead with you.. please help him. Please. He has been hurt with a blade forged in dragon's breath," Merlin's voice couldn't keep from cracking, streams of tears running down his face. He lowered himself and Arthur to the ground, arms tight as he could safely manage around Arthur's chest, cradling his upper body in his lap. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered, he was trying to keep his eyes on Merlin but his consciousness was fading fast, "He is dying. I beg you Kilgarrah. Help him. Help me save him, please.” 

"I know magic when I see it, young warlock. The blade was indeed enchanted... But I can not give you that which you seek." Kilgarrah looked up from the blonde knight to Merlin, who felt bile fighting its way back up his throat at the response he was hearing. 

Rage washed through him because he was running out of time and he needed help. He was begging for it. His shoulders shook as he began to silently sob, looking down at his King in his arms. His destiny that he failed, the other half of his coin, his purpose..all slipping through his fingers. 

Arthur felt tears landing on his cheeks. He pried his eyes open and mustered all the energy he could to focus on Merlin. 

“All your magic, Merlin, and you still can’t save me,” he said quietly, a smile on his lips. 

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” Merlin let out another sob, unable to control himself. “I’ve failed you, I’m so sorry, Arthur.” He began moving his hands to fiddle with Arthur’s armor to help him breathe, knowing it was useless but just trying to do something. 

Arthur caught his hand before he could move away even an inch, “Shhh. Just.. just hold me, please,” he whispered. 

He wore a fond smile on his face, eyes full of emotion and locked on Merlin’s as he began to ever so slightly rub his thumb over Merlin’s knuckles. He hadn’t noticed the dragon 20 yards away. He didn’t want to waste any effort to focus on anything but the warm skin against his, the tears he felt washing over him, the face of his best friend, his other half… 

The man I love, he thought… 

…crying above him, looking absolutely shattered. Seeing him like this tore at his heart. He wanted nothing more than to be able to comfort and reassure him. So he did the best he could manage. 

“There’s something I want to say”

He reached for Merlin, sliding his gloved fingers into the soft black waves at the nape of his neck, pulling his gaze to him. 

“You’re not going to say goodbye,” Merlin said, fighting back another sob. 

“No, Merlin… Everything you’ve done. I know now. For me, for Camelot, for the kingdom you helped me build…”

“You’d have done it without me…” Merlin interjected, choking back tears.

“Maybe” Arthur smiled, “I want to say… something I’ve never said to you before,” he took a shallow breath, willing himself to continue. He tugged on the hair in his weakening grasp, “come here.” 

Merlin leaned down until their foreheads were pressed together, squeezing his eyes shut because it was too much. He was getting Arthur like this, holding him so intimately while Arthur stared at him with so much love and it was because he was dying. 

No, Merlin thought, please no.  

He squeezed Arthur’s hand tighter, inhaling the scent of his skin and his sweat soaked armor that he would clean a hundred thousand times over if it meant Arthur stayed breathing. 

“Stay with me…” Merlin whispered. 

He felt a warm, gentle pressure against his lips and his eyes shot open. 

Arthur tilted his face up to meet Merlin’s, his hand sliding from his hair to caress sharp cheekbones that had always teased him. Memories of Merlin flashed through his mind. He could picture all of his cheeky smiles, challenging brows, the way the light had shone on the angles of his face when he woke him in the morning, the way he threw his head back when he laughed.

He smiled against Merlin’s lips, feeling his own tears sliding from his eyes, down his cheeks. He tasted Merlin, telling him with it his longing for a life he wished they’d had. 

“I love you,” he whispered against Merlin’s lips.

 Merlin broke, a cry sounding from him as he kissed Arthur’s lips like they held the water of life. He cradled the sides of Arthur’s face in his hands, fingers tangling into the blonde mass of hair, and held him there. Kissing him hard, for as long as time allowed them. 

When Arthur’s head began to feel too heavy, and his grip on reality began to waver, he laid back in Merlin’s arms, smiling up at him. He held his gaze there as the edges of his world began to dim, exhaustion weighing on him, pulling him to the earth below. 

His last thought before losing consciousness, I am happy.  

“No!” Merlin screamed, but he couldn’t hear his words. 

He couldn’t hear or see or feel anything that wasn’t Arthur slumped in his arms, slipping out of his grasp. He sobbed, frantically pressing his fingers to the side of his king’s neck, finding a slowing pulse, barely there. He looked up to where Kilgarrah had moved a bit closer. His face swollen with tears and grief, eyes pleading as he yelled, 

“I can’t lose him! He’s my friend!” He tried to choke down a sob, “I love him!” 

“Do not lose hope just yet,” Kilgarrah interceded, “I cannot grant you what you wish for because the ancient magic that forged that blade was not by my hand. But you know whose it was." 

Merlin's breathing came to a halt, eyes widening… He hadn't considered calling on Aithusa. He had just sent her away hours before during battle as she had come to turn her fire against Camelot's knights. He wasn’t sure of her loyalty or how willing she would be to help save his king. 

But he was a dragon lord and he was desperate. Before he could call out, Kilgarrah continued, 

“I know what you're thinking, young warlock. But consider that, while unknown to you, Aithusa has her reasons for the choices she has made, as do you. Even so, she was brought upon this world by your call. There is no greater duty than to live by your guidance and command. Something which, until now, she has severely lacked." 

Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling shame and guilt wash over him as he faced his neglect of a creature he had sworn to protect. 

One of many. He thought. He looked to Arthur in his arms, chest hardly moving with shallow breaths, and he allowed himself to hope. He had to hope that Aithusa could do this. He couldn’t lose him.

Merlin looked to the Kilgarrah and nodded his head in agreement. The Great Dragon bowed in understanding and closed his eyes, his scales shimmering brighter as he summoned Aithusa.

Chapter Text

"Hey. Calm down a moment will you? We might catch her off-guard but you will still need to be focused." 

Percival eyed Gwaine who was currently panting, from adrenaline or anger or both, his brows furrowed, riding next to him. 

"Oh believe me, I am focused." Gwaine turned his head to meet Percy's eyes, the beginnings of a humorless smile on his lips, "Of ridding our kingdom of her." 

The two knights looked back toward the path just in time to see Morgana and 6 of her soldiers step into their view. Percy and Gwaine both dropped forward, torsos flat against their horses backs as they came to a stop. They slowly dismounted, trying not to draw the attention of the Saxon knights flocking the High Priestess as she stormed down the path to the false location they’d given her. The two knights crawled as quietly as they could, positioning themselves behind a shield of bushes nearby. They’d nearly reached their hiding spot when Percy’s leg dragged just a bit too loudly across the brush. Morgana’s head snapped up.

Percy held his breath as Morgana held perfectly still, listening intently to her surroundings, her eyes narrowing in their direction. Gwaine and Percy met each other's eyes, conversing with a look and agreeing with a silent nod. A second later they both leapt from the bushes, charging at the armed Saxons with their swords already drawn and swinging. Gwaine’s blade swung into the shins of the closest soldier, knocking the man’s feet out from under him and letting him hit the rugged forest floor with a notable crack . The man groaned from where he lay twisted, turning his face upward just in time for his jaw to meet Gwaine’s boot, stomping his face into the mud. 

Gwaine spun around to face his next victim, impaling him with his sword before the soldier’s raised axe had a chance to fall. He yanked his weapon free, and scanned his surroundings, eyes searching for Percival. He found the bear sized knight only 10 meters away, already with 2 soldiers sprawled in a bloodied mess on the ground and clashing swords with a third while another lunged at his back. Gwaine closed the distance within seconds and sliced the unsuspecting soldier's head clean from his shoulders. Heaving in labored breaths, he gave Percy a quick once over, scanning him for serious injuries. After graciously bringing a swift end to their last opponent, Percy briefly met Gwaine’s eyes. His smug grin confirming the splatters of blood covering his torso weren’t his.

Their relief was short-lived.. an earsplitting cackle overwhelmed the forest. 

Gwaine turned to face the source and met icy blue eyes sunken into pale skin. Her tattered dark robes draped over her sickly thin frame, her long raven hair tangled and twisted wildly around her shoulders. Morgana tilted her head forward, glowing eyes locked on the smaller knight, a wicked and taunting smile spread across her lips daring the knight to make a move. The air around him suddenly felt palpable, the tension so thick with hatred that he could slice it with his blade. 

In his mind he could see his friends, the townsfolk, children playing in the roads, the citadel he’d begun to picture as home. All of it threatened because of this w itch’s greed. He could hear his King’s words from battle briefing replaying in his mind “she won’t stop until she sees herself on the throne, with my head on a pike.” His memories twisted, he could see Arthur’s face, absent of any life. Then Merlin’s, Percy’s, the citadel falling, townspeople running in fear. The unpleasant images came faster, filling his vision, heating his blood with such intense rage he couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer.

“Over my dead body… ” He growled the words, jaw clenched, sword ready, and he charged at Morgana.   

              ~     ~     ~     ~     ~ 

Arthur felt he was slipping in and out of consciousness, trying to push past the pounding against his skull, his quick breaths burning his dry throat. He wasn’t certain of anything around him. He’d thought he glimpsed the Great Dragon that he’d killed, thought he could hear him speaking, but everything had started to feel like a dream. He thought he felt Merlin against his side and a cool breeze brushed his cheeks. He tried to open his eyes to see, squinting against the brightness of his surroundings, but could only see flashes of white before his eyelids became too heavy.

Merlin watched, feeling an uncomfortable mix of awe and pain as Aithusa flew prepared to land in front of them, her misshapen wings flapping irregularly as she hovered over the ground before dropping on her feet abruptly. She acknowledged Kilgharrah with a quick bow of her head before turning her eyes on the dragonlord’s.

She looks uncertain , Merlin thought.

He felt another wave of shame, realizing his dragon didn’t really know him well. Their distance now impossible to ignore. He never gave her a chance, never prioritized her the way he should’ve prioritized a child. Especially one that he called into life.

She doesn’t trust me. And why should she. I’ve given her no reason to.

He looked back at Arthur whose eyes were closed and brows furrowed, fighting to hold on to life. Merlin’s eyes burned and his stomach twisted with anxiety. 

This is my destiny. I have the earth and it’s magic on my side. I was not born to fail.  

Merlin breathed in deep, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall and brought his eyes to meet his young dragon’s. He looked at her for a long moment, taking in her mangled limbs, her glowing scales, her sharp features. She looked both beautiful and malnourished, strong and frail. 

Much like a neglected child indeed. His heart clenched at the thought.

 “Aithusa,” He breathed her name, his face full of sorrow and regret. “Aithusa, my girl, I am so, so sorry. I should never have left you alone for so long. I was scared and I couldn’t look past my fear of being discovered.. of losing my King.” 

Merlin again had to fight the bile rising in his throat from those last words. He kept his eyes on Aithusa as he steadied himself, finally giving her his full attention. “None of this was your fault. You didn’t know of the dangers that exist here. You didn’t know what to do or where to go. That was my job to help you. And I left you vulnerable. I know my words don’t fix what I have neglected to do. But I am asking you to trust me enough to believe that from this day, until my last, I will protect and guide you as I should’ve done from the first moment I called you to walk upon this earth.” 

Merlin swallowed hard and failed to fight the burning in his eyes. Tears slid down his cheeks as he stared at the magical creature in front of him, looking hesitant. Grief and love and pain waged a war inside him as he allowed himself to knock down the walls he’d built for so long. Walls he’d built out of fear, with intention to protect. And realizing all they’ve done is cause pain.

She is mine. In hiding and denying myself, I have denied her. 

He couldn’t stop his tears, his heart breaking more and more as he realized the life he set up for his young dragon. 

I have turned her against me. I have not protected her, have not taught her, have not loved her like a dragonlord, like a father, should. She is like me, she is magic, and she is more. She is my responsibility.  

A chirp interrupted his thoughts. Merlin blinked in surprise. 

He was still staring, taking in the beautiful and distorted features of his wondrous creature that was now staring back at him with eyes full of… adoration? Love? 

Merlin gasped, mouth agape as the white dragon closed her eyes and bowed her head at her dragonlord. An unmistakable sign of trust and possibly forgiveness. He recognized the act.

A promise of devotion.  

He felt his tears cool on his cheeks as Kilgarrah readjusted his wings, sending a breeze across the clearing. It was the Great Dragon’s turn to stare, cocking his head toward the sorcerer, seemingly pleased by the interaction he saw unfolding before him. 

Arthur stirred at Merlin’s side, eyes closed, breaths shallow while he mumbled nonsense about angel wings. Merlin stepped forward, his hand caressing the soft underside of his young dragon’s jawbone. He gently lifted Aithusa’s face until she was able to fully see the Once and Future King, looking pitiful, hanging onto the last bits of life still in him. 

Aithusa winced with guilt, looking to the ground ashamed before a steady hand brought her eyes back to her Merlin’s. 

Merlin’s expression held no anger, no disappointment. Only love and hope. Pleading with her. 

Determination washed away her guilt in an instant and she looked to the golden haired king, pale and limp in her father’s arms. She straightened her neck, puffed out her chest, and breathed in deeply preparing to cast her spell.           

Chapter Text

Gwaine’s feet pounded against the forest floor, the beat of his own heart deafening as he closed the distance between himself and the priestess. Sweat dripped from his brow, adrenaline pushing him faster and faster, his blade pointed at her chest, ready to claim its next victim.

Morgana’s eyes glowed as she threw her hand forward, sending Gwaine flying through the air until a tree stopped his trajectory.

Gwaine tried to quickly regain his stance but stumbled, head spinning after being thrown at least 10 meters from the witch. Morgana laughed at his struggling from where she stood, seemingly unbothered, still standing in the same spot.

He started again, running full speed, trying to switch up his footing in hopes of avoiding her attacks. He dodged one throw, then another. He closed the distance with impressive speed, earning an annoyed snarl from the sorceress. He took a chance and lunged towards her.

He was mid swing this time when she flicked her wrist and flung him into the treeline, back slamming against a trunk, the jagged stub of what was a branch stabbing deep into his thigh.

“Augh fuck!!” Gwaine yelled, hitting the ground with a thud, using one hand to push him up from the ground and the other to grip his wounded thigh.

“AAAGHH” Percy roared up behind the Priestess, slamming his sword through her back to the hilt and twisted. Percy’s hands released his sword, firmly lodged into the sorceress’ torso, taking barely a moment to relish in his success before running to Gwaine.

He wrapped an arm under the smaller knight’s chest and pulled him to sit up at his side, his other hand pushing his friend’s ridiculously soft, long hair out of his eyes. He made quick work of ripping off a strip of his cloak to tie around his companion’s thigh above his wound. Gwaine looked up at him, somehow looking charming and pissed off.

Gwaine opened his mouth to smart off to Percy for taking “his” kill when the words died on his tongue. His eyes widened on a sight over Percy’s shoulder, his jaw hanging open as he looked on in disbelief.

Percy turned around and saw Morgana sneering at them both, standing tall and ready, sword poking out of her groin completely clean, dripping not even a single ounce of blood. The dark haired sorceress wrapped her hands steadily around the sharp blade protruding from her stomach and slowly pushed the weapon back through its entrance, huffing a low, dangerous laugh as she did so, eyes still locked on the dumbfounded knight who thought he’d bested her.

“Oh. You poor, stupid fools.” Morgana teased sweetly, “All this time and you still don’t know who I am? I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion and true heir to the throne of Camelot. No mortal blade can finish me.”

The sound of the sword hitting the ground behind her rang through the forest. Percy was stunned, staring wide-eyed and fearful when Gwaine growled and swiftly retrieved a throwing dagger he’d strapped to his low back. Morgana didn’t even bother to flinch as the blade zipped through the air before stopping abruptly in front of her face, floating mid-air before turning back on its owner.

“Well shite” Gwaine cursed under his breath, “Percy get down!”

He yanked the man to the ground with him by the collar of his chainmail, blade just skimming the top of his friend’s shoulder as they went and landing in the tree behind them. Gwaine reached for his friend’s shoulder, panic evident in his expression, and covered the wound with his hands applying pressure.

“S’alright, it’s shallow,” Gwaine assured him, letting out a breath of relief.

Percy winked at him, flashing him a cheeky grin before pushing himself off the ground and further proving his point by rolling his shoulders back.

“Yup, you’re good,” Gwaine choked out as his cheeks heated. He dropped his hands and turned his head away, swallowing hard and looking back toward the sorceress to remind himself that they were in danger and he had no time to think about the thick muscles he’d felt underneath his friend's chainmail.

Morgana watched them with an entertained smirk. “You two are quite fun aren’t you? I’ve always enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse.”

“You bitch,” Gwaine growled, hands curling into tight fists at his sides, ready to hurl himself but not sure how to proceed. How do you hurt someone who can be run through like that and walk away?

“Ha ha ha!” Morgana threw her head back with laughter, a joyous look spreading across her face.

If she wasn’t insanely evil and threatening their lives and the lives of everyone in Camelot, Gwaine would’ve thought she looked pretty, beautiful even. Someone he may tell a joke to in hopes of buying them a drink at a local tavern. But unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Instead, he and his friend were injured and kneeling in the dirt, and Morgana was still evil. Instead of laughing at Gwaine's sweet attempts to flirt, she was laughing maniacally at her abuse of power that had brought these trained knights to their knees.

“Is that anyway to address your Queen?” Morgana raised an eyebrow in challenge, smiling down at him.

“You are not and will never be my Queen.” Gwaine all but yelled, voice unwavering as he stood tall staring boldly back at her.

Morgana’s smile faltered, anger shifting her expression instantaneously.

“Oh but won’t I be? Once I catch your fraud of a King and return with his head on a pike.”

She smiled ear to ear at the thought of mounting Arthur’s head on the front gates for all to look upon and see her accomplishment. To look upon the proof that he was weak and she was right. To show to everyone who they should’ve placed their trust in from the beginning. To show them who’s power they should really fear.

“Guinevere is my Queen as much as Arthur is my King. And there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Gwaine proclaimed, sheer devotion shining in his eyes. Percy stood tall next to him mirroring his expression. Both men looked determined, brave, and more than ready to lay down their lives in the name of their rulers, their friends.

“HA! Oh her.” Morgana jeered, “I have my own special plans for her.”
Morgana said it like a promise, making Gwaine’s heart beat wildly inside his chest, rage filling him to the brim. He felt Percival lean into him, his expression unchanged but the gesture brought Gwaine back to himself. He hadn’t realized he had been shaking with anger.

Morgana smiled up at them from where she bent to retrieve something near the skirts of her dress, clearly pleased by Gwaine’s reaction to her taunts.

“Just as I have plans for you.” She held a small black box in her hands and opened it with a click.

Gwaine and Percy looked at each other, uncertain of what move to make. They looked back toward the sorceress who was now approaching them at a leisurely stroll and raised their blades. Preparing to at least do what they were trained to do.

Gwaine looked away from the sorceress and scanned the area around them. Something was happening that he couldn’t see. Something just felt off.

Percy swore he could hear a hissing from somewhere before everything went dark…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Arthur felt a comforting wave wash over him. He let himself slip into the warm blissful light that wrapped around him like a blanket. He felt life thrumming around him, through him, ebbing the pain away, relief and joy taking turns washing over him until he felt whole again.

He slowly blinked his eyes open, squinting against the light until a mess of raven hair hovered over him, blocking the sun. He felt wet drops hitting his cheeks and his blurred vision slowly came to focus on a familiar face, red and swollen with emotion.

“It worked!” Merlin choked out, reeling with excitement and relief and joy beyond measure. “You’re alive” he all but whispered as his face split in two from the grin that’d overtaken his features.

He held Arthur’s face in his hands, overcome with joy, raking his fingers up into his golden hair, and raising him to meet his lips, placing a kiss to his forehead for a long moment and breathing in his scent.

“You’re alive” he whispered again, lips moving against Arthur’s skin.

Arthur gasped at the contact, still dazed from the healing spell, and grabbed Merlin’s wrists gently pulling them from his face.

Merlin wasn’t having any of that.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that he crossed a line, knocked down a wall they’d had in place for a long, long time. But his relief was too loud for him to hear his doubt. He immediately wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, face buried into his neck in an attempt to hide his tears from his other half miraculously alive in his arms.

“I thought we’d lost you.” Merlin let out with a quiet sob under his breath.

He’s here. She did it. We made it. He’s alive, he’s breathing, he’s here.

The words took Arthur’s breath away. He recognized them instantly. Memories flashed through his mind of knights returning with no news. Gauis’s worried face. George surprising him in the morning, all too eager to be of service. He was reminded of his own worry and grief that had grown with every passing minute when Merlin was missing. The fear that he was no longer looking for his best friend but for his friend’s body. The overwhelming relief and joy when he found him alive and smiling and the completeness he felt when he threw his arms around him even though he had been covered in muck.

I thought we’d lost you.

Arthur felt a strange deja vu as he hugged Merlin back, holding onto him tightly.

It’s alright. I’m here. I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.

Arthur closed his eyes holding Merlin in his arms on the ground where he sat, Merlin straddling his lap, clinging to his king.

“Ahem,” Kilgarrah interrupted, scaled lips turned up in an obvious smirk while he and Aithusa watched the emotional scene unfolding in front of them. Arthur snapped his head toward the direction of the sound and his jaw hit the floor.