#but i don’t think that she’d let uther live if she ACTUALLY had the choice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

panharmonium · 4 years

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okay, honest question about 5.11 -

are we seriously supposed to watch this episode and still come down on arthur’s side?

i’m not saying that’s what the show wants us to do. on the contrary, i think they actually do a pretty good job this episode of NOT hammering us in the face with “you’re supposed to root for camelot,” which i appreciate, because there have definitely been other times when they’ve approached the moral dilemma of magical oppression and have kind of punked out at the end - most noticeably in ‘the sorcerer’s shadow,’ when they finally force us to look merlin’s cognitive dissonance in the eye by putting him in the position of saving uther from a magical youth fighting for freedom, and then they back off from that uncomfortable question by having kilgharrah say “you, like i, must hold hope that arthur will bring about a new age, an age where the likes of you and i are respected once again.”

they don’t quite do that in this episode, which i really appreciate, because i just cannot see how they would have been able to pull it off without sounding ridiculously disingenuous.

arthur is WRONG.

(i’ll get to merlin later, he’s...he’s got a whole different issue going on, but let’s just deal with arthur first.)

that whole conversation where he interrogates kara in front of the court - just look at it:

were you part of a cohort of saxons who attacked an arms shipment bound for camelot?

yes.

and were you acting under the orders of morgana pendragon?

what i did, i did for myself. for my people, and for our right to be free.

i have no quarrel with the druids.

i have spent my life on the run because of my beliefs, and seen those i have loved killed.

once, maybe. but i’m not my father.

you don’t kill those with magic? it is not i, arthur pendragon, who needs to answer for my crimes. it is you. you and your father have brutally and mercilessly heaped misery on my kind. it is you who has turned a peaceful people to war, and it is you and camelot that will pay the price.

are we supposed to look at this girl and condemn her? nothing she says is wrong.

whenever we encounter these magical rebel types, the show always tries to play it like ‘well uhhhhhh they’re a little extreme......i mean......they kill people 0.0,’ as if camelot’s regime hasn’t been killing magical people all along. like - kara stabs that soldier when she’s escaping from the cells, and the show kind of plays mordred’s reaction as...‘omg she killed someone oh no what a baddie,’ but dude! the soldiers are about to kill her!!!!! she’s running for her life! killing a guard is nothing merlin and arthur haven’t done a hundred times, when escaping from captivity on their own adventures, but it’s never been framed as some sort of evil thing, for them. why is kara the only one branded as a sinner? a knight’s life isn’t more valuable than any of the children uther drowned. a knight’s murder isn’t more deserving of reprisal.

the girl’s murdered innocent men in cold blood. we are at war. i must be resolute.

we hear arthur say that and we kind of just want to shake him like - CAMELOT has murdered innocent people in cold blood! if arthur can use “we are at war” to justify killing someone who has magic, then the same justification should apply to magic-users attempting to kill him. camelot declared war on magic-users decades ago. these people are fighting for their lives.

arthur is showing his father’s reasoning here. his own rules don’t apply to him. his rationale, his justifications, they only go one way. there is so much to pick apart in his response to this situation - he tries to make it sound like ‘the problem isn’t magic, it’s that you murdered some guys,’ (he tells kara “you stand before the court not because of an act of sorcery or sedition, but because of an act of murder”) but literally in the previous episode he sends out a squadron to hunt down finna (and merlin, unknowingly) just because gaius said finna practiced the old religion.

finna had killed no one. she’d done absolutely nothing wrong. but arthur went after her and said she ‘must be found and brought to trial.”

brought to trial? for WHAT???? she hadn’t DONE anything. nothing except be a follower of the old religion.

and his hypocrisy! ‘it is [people like morgana] that have terrorized camelot and forced us to outlaw such practices’ - really, arthur? literally two episodes ago, you went the cauldron of arianrhod and used magic to save your wife from an enchantment. at the beginning of season 5, you used magic to summon your father’s ghost. at the beginning of season 4, you used magic to try to save uther’s life.

arthur has always been willing to use magic for his own purposes, when it suits him. all while continuing to restrict others from doing the same.

this show is big on pushing the narrative that “arthur’s different from uther” - and he is - but how different, really? seriously. in the end, how different are they?

i feel like because we are fond of him - because we’ve gotten to know him personally, in settings where we can temporarily forget the impact of his policies - we’re sometimes asked to sort of look past the real harm that is constantly being done in his name. like - ‘it’s okay for us to let it slide when arthur persecutes people with magic, because he has valid reasons to think magic is a threat.’ but what, then it’s not okay for someone like kara to want him taken out?

she has valid reasons to think ARTHUR is a threat. he IS a threat!!! to people like her! that’s the reality. these people have every justified reason to want arthur off the throne. they have every rightful reason to riot. they have EVERY RATIONAL REASON TO REBEL AND REMOVE HIM FROM HIS SEAT OF POWER.

if this were star wars, they’d be the rebellion. we’d be rooting for them! it is not wrong for an oppressed population to rise up against their oppressor!!!!!!!!!! we all know this!!!!!!!! just because we like arthur on a personal level doesn’t make it less true. we CANNOT fault these people for refusing to just sit back and wait for arthur to someday wake up and give them their rights. that never happens. that is never how people become free. we can’t fault these people for not choosing to be like merlin, for not choosing to hover in a morally questionable limbo for years and years and years and become complicit in their own oppression.

(and again, i’ll...i’ll deal with merlin later. he keeps fucking up and i hate to see it but i also have to remember that he is a victim of the same oppressive policies as kara and mordred so it’s like...his case is more complicated.)

but arthur. i honestly feel like the most telling moment is when he gives kara that opportunity to “repent,” which is supposed to be like ‘oh wow look how benevolent,’ only the thing is he’s completely missed the point. the point is not that she needs to apologize for her crimes. the point is that she hasn’t done anything wrong.

no.

it isn’t.

the way they cut to merlin at that particular line is devastating. it’s this...reminder of how far we have wandered, from who he used to be. he used to think this, too. he used to fight for himself, too; he used to come home to gaius angry and upset saying “i want to be seen; i want to be free.” and now he’s just...locked into this impossible place where he can either ignore the veritable chorus of dragons, seers, and literal gods who keep telling him he has an absolute responsibility to make sure arthur triumphs, or listen to their counsel and thus betray himself, and his own people along with him. and all this while still living under threat of execution himself - what is he supposed to do?

this episode calls back so strongly to ‘the sorcerer’s shadow,’ which is the first place where the show confronts this problem so directly, when merlin outs himself to gilli and gilli challenges him about his choices:

i know how it feels. i understand.

then you understand why i have to fight. if uther is killed, so what? how many of our kind have died at his hands? how many more will? it's time those with magic fought back.

gilli -

you can't tell me what to do!

you need to learn to use your magic for good. that is its true purpose; it's not meant for your own vanity.

i'm not going to apologise for who i am! you can be a servant and - and pretend you're less than them -

no, that is not what I do -

no?! you're defending the king! protecting a man that would have you dead!

i'm protecting you!

you've been pretending for so long now that you've actually forgotten who you are.

merlin gets so upset by this. he’s visibly shaken, and on the verge of tears, and he weakly protests, and then the next shot is of him lying awake in his bed, agonizedly stewing over it, because deep down he knows that gilli is right.

this conflict has never been resolved. i would add, as we move toward the spot where i am now in season 5, that it’s not so much that merlin has “forgotten” who he is, exactly, but that he’s been forced to abandon who he is, for the sake of his mission. and most of the time he tries not to think about that, because it’s the only way he can survive, but he feels deeply conflicted about it still.

watching 5.11, it is so easy for me to get frustrated at merlin, because i feel like he should do more, in this episode, and do the Right Thing, but honestly at this point the only way for him to do the right thing is to reveal himself. that’s it. there is no other option for him. we’ve exhausted all other avenues; there is no other step he can take. he is trapped, in his current situation, and his deception is not just hurting him, now, it’s...it’s an abdication of his responsibility to everyone like him.

i don’t like saying that. because in real life it’s never okay to just say like...’oh, you need to out yourself because you have a responsibility to the community.’ that’s never okay. a person’s primary responsibility is to their own safety, when they’re living as a marginalized, threatened person.

so in real life, i would never say that. but this is fiction, first of all, and it’s more complicated than that, for merlin, because he is already in a position of responsibility over these people, whether he wants to be or not. the decisions he makes are things that impact their lives.

and secondly - how threatened is he, really? he is supposedly the most powerful sorcerer who’s ever lived. do we really think arthur could successfully get merlin up on a platform and hang him? do we really think arthur could hold merlin in a cell? when merlin was newer to intentional magic and unstudied, absolutely, yes. but now?

the risk merlin faces now isn’t necessarily to his life. it’s to his lifestyle. he might have to leave camelot. he might lose all his friends. and these are valid fears and i UNDERSTAND, because merlin has never felt safe and he has so rarely felt loved and i UNDERSTAND how paralytically frightening it is for him to consider doing anything that would jeopardize even the tiniest bit of belonging that he has been able to scrape together for himself, but i do not see that he has another option - not one that doesn’t poison his soul, at least. he knows that what is happening to kara in this episode is wrong. he tells arthur “free them both.” he knows that’s what should have happened. but then arthur executes her, and merlin does nothing to stop it, and i hate to put one more burden on merlin’s young shoulders but the fact of the matter is that this cycle of violence will never end until merlin ends it himself. merlin cannot continue to stay trapped here between the dictates of destiny and his own sense of right and wrong. it is killing him, and now it’s killing other people, too.

it is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.

merlin desperately needs to remember that. he needs to remember it for his own sake, not just for the people around him. he is one of them. their struggle is his struggle. it is not the magical community’s fault that merlin has more information than they do - how are they supposed to know that arthur is supposed to be some kind of great saviour? without knowing that, why would they ever choose to bow to him? he has done nothing to earn their trust. they have no reason to approach this situation the way merlin has, with infinite patience and a willingness to suffer constant injustices.

merlin has to understand that. he has to know that. he can’t condemn them for fighting for their freedom. they haven’t done anything wrong. and i think he does know that, deep inside. but he is trapped, where he is now, and the only way out is for him to tell the truth.

the truth will set you free. it might upend your entire life, but it will set you free. and it is past time that merlin was free. from camelot’s oppression, and from the oppressive dictates of destiny, too - if destiny had shut up for two seconds about ‘don’t trust mordred,’ we wouldn’t necessarily be in this situation now.

i guess overall this episode leaves me feeling pretty grim. and sad, i guess, because honestly like - it’s hard to for me to even root for arthur, as we enter the finale. i can’t condemn mordred for running away to join the rebellion. i don’t think morgana’s ideals are exactly pure, obviously; we’ve already seen several seasons ago how her goals have slid from ‘liberation’ to ‘power’ - but mordred is only motivated by the fight against injustice. he’s in it for freedom. and i can’t fault him for that, because he isn’t wrong. i can’t fault him for giving up merlin’s identity, either, because merlin’s been treating him like crap from the very beginning (and again, yes, it’s more complicated than that - merlin is in an impossible position; he has reasons to trust all of the people who make prophecies at him - but still. that doesn’t make mordred less wronged.)

so it’s kind of like - i’m going into the finale feeling like i shouldn’t really be rooting for our heroes. which is kind of...depressing.

i mean. yeah.

he kind of does.

#the once and future slowburn #meta #merlin S5 #long post #this is such a...i don't know #it's just...a bummer #like i appreciate that the show is kind of allowing us to sit with the complexity #and for once not telling us that 'arthur's right no matter what'#they haven't quite gone the 'guess we were right not to trust mordred route!' yet #they had arthur say 'i shouldn't have trusted him' but i don't believe that's their endorsement of that position #and i'm glad #because that's just...demonstrably false; after this episode #but i also don't trust them not to take that tack later because they have a history of that sort of thing #so who knows?#right now i'm just in a place where i feel glum because i mean...how can i even root for the heroes?#like #mordred strides off to morgana's fortress and i was like 'good! you go! you march over there!'#he's been wronged! how can i justifiably ask him to just roll over and take it?#it's not fair to ask that of him #it's not fair to ask that of any of them #and that **includes** merlin #merlin should never have had to do all the things he's done for this regime #i know why he's done them; and he won't complain; but he's been wronged as well #he's made mistakes but he's also been victimized so it's just...it's a mess #i just can't envision a scenario where this turns out okay for anyone #even arthur and merlin 'winning' doesn't seem like a good ending to me #because like...why does camelot deserve to win right now?#i don't know #it's hard to explain #it's just...a disaster

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loki-lover84 · 4 years

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Season 01 Episode 03: “The Mark of Nimueh”

Guinevere had started spending more time with Brenna and I much like we used to, she’d been requesting our help with some tasks that had unfairly been assigned to her so of course we were more than happy to help her, I still felt a little uncomfortable around her though, I’m convinced that both her and Merlin like one another and don’t want to get in the way of my friends happiness but I also wanted that happiness for myself. I’d had a free morning and planned on going riding by myself, Brenna of course refused to let that be the case and wanted to join me which of course I allowed, I’d dressed in one of my more simplistic outfits a woodland brown shade of leggings, a faded white blouse with a dark corset belt, a dark brown pair of boots and a leaf green cape, my hair lowly tied back just so it was out of the way. I was about to mount H/n when I saw Gaius and Merlin pulling a heavy cart behind them, in a blink of an eye Gwen was there and he stood talking to Merlin before handing him a purple flower from her bouquet they spoke briefly once again, before Merlin and Gaius continued on the purple flower sticking out of the top of his blue neckerchief. I looked away mounting my trusty H/n before clenching the reigns tightly and galloping past Gaius, Merlin then Gwen without so much of a friendly smile accidentally leaving Brenna and her horse Raven in our dust.

All I wanted was a nice calm serene ride and now, I’m agitated and upset pushing H/n to their limits. I shouldn’t care this much, yes I’ve got to know Merlin better, yes I like him even more and yes I know his secret, I know he has magic but for all I know Gwen could know and feel all of these things too. What Merlin and I have isn’t special, it’s less than my bond with Gwen, with Arthur, with Morgana, with Brenna, heck probably even less than my bond with Uther. So why is it getting to me so much.

“Hey, Y/n you might want to slow down a bit, I’m sure you don’t want to take out all your frustrations on H/n.” Brenna yelled from behind me on a sprinting Raven.

I pulled the reigns slightly indicating for H/n to go at their own speed.

“What’s bothering you? You were perfectly fine, and looking forward to your morning ride and now you’re racing ahead as if you’re running away from something. I’d honestly thought you’d be glad Uther consented to you leaving the castle grounds so you didn’t have to sneak out but-“

“It’s Gwen.” I spoke cutting Brenna off.

“What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s perfectly fine I dare say she’s even beyond that, I think she’s in love.” I reply.

“Well isn’t that a good thing?” Brenna asked as she rode beside me.

“Yeah of course it is just; I wish she were in love with someone else.”

“Why? Who is she in love with?”

“I think she might be in love with Merlin and…I think he feels the same about her. For all I know they’re already courting.”

“I doubt that they’re courting but, why is it bothering you so much?”

“I’m not sure.” I sighed, our horses stayed at a steady walking pace as we talked about other events in our lives but my mind focused on trying to come up with an answer to Brenna’s question.

An hour or so had passed by the time we decided to head back, I was feeling better despite still not achieving a conclusion. We dismounted in the courtyard and led our horses back to the stables before bumping into a rather on edge Arthur.

“Y/n. You’re alright.” Arthur exclaimed checking me over.

“Yes, I ‘m alright. Shouldn’t I be?” I asked confused at Arthur’s relief.

“There’s a plague spreading around Camelot and it’s very deadly we don’t know what it is but we know it’s some kind of sorcery.”

Fantastic something goes wrong in Camelot it’s magic. Uther finally let’s me go riding and now I’m back to being forced to stay in the castle and do nothing whilst the people of Camelot die.

“So what’s going on as of now to prevent it?”

“Father’s ordered me to lead some of our guards in tracking down the sorcerer behind it all.” Arthur answers, “You should probably get inside and let Morgana know you’re okay, she’s been worried about your absence.” I nodded my head leaving my horse for the kind stable boy to attend to.

As I made my way into Morgana’s chambers, I was barely even a step in when I was tackled into a tight hug from my sister.

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” She sighed in relief however still not letting me go. “I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m perfectly fine, I promise. It is ironic though, the one the one time I’m allowed outside the castle grounds, a plague infects Camelot.” I laugh in attempt to lighten the mood.

“You do realise that privilege has probably been revoked.”

“I’d go one step further and say it’s definitely been revoked.”

“Please pay attention to it though Y/n, for once listen to Uther. For me.” Morgana pleaded I couldn’t exactly refuse her and I wasn’t stupid.

“I promise.” I say leaving her room to get myself a drink.

Guinevere ran right past me sobbing, she was on her way to Gaius’s by the looks of things, as was I to see if there’d been any developments on the sickness situation. Merlin sped past me a bucket of water in his hands which did seem a bit odd, I was about to take a sip from my goblet when in a flash it was smacked out of my hand, it’s content spilling onto the ground.

“Merlin! Why did you do that?” I snapped as he’d appeared in front of me, I was dehydrated and desperately wanted a drink since I hadn’t drank anything since last night.

“Don’t drink that, in fact don’t drink any water.” Merlin ordered.

“What? Why?”

“Gaius and I believe the plague is being transferred through the water supply.”

“Couldn’t you just have used your magic and made my water safe to drink?” I huff feeling a headache coming on.

“You should probably keep your voice down, at this rate I think you want to see my head cut off. And also, Gaius told me not to use my magic for this, that we’d find another solution.” Merlin said as we walked to Gaius’s chambers.

The door was open and I could hear Gwen crying and pleading inside. When we entered Gaius was explaining the situation to her before apologizing to her. Gwen turned around tears streaming down her face as she ran from the room, I fled too wanting to catch up with her, to see if there was any way I could help her. Upon catching up to her I pulled her in for a hug.

“Gwen, what’s wrong?”

“It’s my father, he’s been infected Y/n.” She cried, “He’s all I have. There must be something they can do.”

I rubbed her back soothingly as her sobs came harder and less controlled.

“Don’t worry, I’m certain Merlin and Gaius will be able to come up with something for you and your father before it’s too late. Take the rest of the day off, Brenna and I will do the rest of your tasks today I’m sure Morgana will understand.” I coo to her in attempt to calm her down.

It must’ve worked because she’s pulled away and wiping away some of her tears before nodding and leaving the castle to spend the day with her father. I walk back to Gaius’s room and see Merlin is nowhere in sight.

“Y/n, can I help you?” Gaius asks his attention now on me.

“ Well yes, I was wondering if you could make me one of the draughts you used to do to ease the pain of my headaches.”

“Certainly, is that all?”

“No, where’s Merlin?” Gaius nods his head to the wooden door leading to the back room.

I smile and thank him as I walk over to the door and enter without knocking, quick as a flash Merlin shoves the book he was reading under his pillow before seeing that it was me.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, I just…I know Gaius said no magic but, it’s Gwen she’s only got her father she can’t lose him.” I say firmly.

“I know.” Merlin says pulling out the book from under his pillow. “And she won’t once I’ve got this spell perfected, he should be fine.”

Oh…of course he was already doing it. Why wouldn’t he be? He does love her after all.

“Right…I’ll leave you be then.” I say before hurriedly leaving and turning in for the night.

The next day Arthur had hurried out to the lower town to interrogate Gwen’s father as word spread that he was no longer sick which was great, Merlin must’ve done it however looking at it now and Gwen’s father being the only one to have survived did make it seem a bit suspicious.

“Y/n come quickly!” Morgana pleaded.

“What’s going on?” Brenna asked confused by my twins outlandish intrusion.

“It’s Gwen. They’re arresting her. They think she’s the sorcerer.”

I leapt up and ran to the throne room where Uther would inevitably pass his judgement on her Brenna directly behind me and Morgana a bit after her. We arrived at the throne room before anything happened and saw a pleading Gwen on the floor.

“He got better. He’s recovered, I didn’t do anything.” Gwen begged.

“I believe you.” Morgana says marching in with us.

“Perhaps this disease is not always fatal.” I say standing my ground beside my friends. “Have you thought of that?”

“Perhaps he recovered naturally.” Morgana adds.

“And what of this poultice that was found?” Uther asks calmly.

“What poultice? I don’t know anything about a poultice.” Gwen states.

“It was found in your house.” Uther says standing up from his throne to talk down to Gwen. “Undo this enchantment. Put an end to this contagion.”

“I can’t!”

“I can show you no mercy.”

“I am not a witch! I don’t know how to stop the illness.”

“If you will not undo your sorcery you force my hand, I must find you guilty.”

“But I can’t, I’ve told you-“

“It is my duty to pronounce judgement. Under the circumstances, I have no choice but to sentence you to death.”

“No.” Gwen whimpers.

“I can only that when you die, this evil plague dies with you.”

With that Gwen is dragged away still pleading her innocence.

“Are you seriously that blind! She’s clearly innocent, yet you chose to believe otherwise because if you don’t then you have to face the fact that you don’t actually know what you’re doing!” I growl at Uther my glare piercing through to his soul.

“Silence! You will not take that tone with me, you will not disrespect me in front of the court. Need you be reminded what will happen to you if this behaviour continues!” Uther seethes venomously his glare just as harsh and yet I don’t back down.

“You can lock me away for a week, as long as you spare the life of a clearly innocent girl that’s done nothing but serve us and love her father.” I challenge I’m about to take it to a whole new level when Morgana intervenes.

“I know Gwen. She’s my maidservant, not an enchantress.”

“Have you ever seen an enchantress?” Uther asks coldly. “Believe me they bare no sign of the mark. There is no sense of evil in the eye.”

“I’ve seen the way the girl works. Her fingers are worn, her nails are broken. If she was a sorceress , then why would she do this, why would she kneel on a cold stone floor, morning after morning, when she could make these things happen with a snap of her fingers? Like an idle king.” Morgana finishes.

“You have no right!” Uther hisses at her.

“Yu have a right to cast judgement on-“

“I have a responsibility to take care of this kingdom. I take no pleasure in this.”

“You’re sentencing the wrong person.” Morgana’s voice comes softer this time not wishing to rile Uther up any more.

“She’s right, Y/n too. You hear the word ‘magic’, and you no longer listen.” Arthur joins.

“You saw yourself…she used enchantments.”

“Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn’t make her guilty of creating a plague. One’s the act of kindness of love, the other of evil. I don’t believe evil is in this girl’s heart.”

“I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl she must die or the whole kingdom may perish.”

“I understand that.”

“One day you may become king. Then, you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom.”

“I know. Witchcraft is an evil, Father. So is injustice. Yes I am yet to be king and I don’t know what kind of king I will be. But I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I wish to live in. It will be where the punishment fits the crime.” Arthur speaks calmly trying to meet Uther on even ground.

“I fear you are right. She’s played with fire. And sadly she must die by fire.” Uther says before swigging the contents of his goblet leaving, Morgana exits the throne room in the opposite direction.

“Arthur, we can’t let her die she’s innocent.” I say.

“I’m aware Y/n but at this point I don’t know what we could do to prove her innocence.” Arthur says as he two leaves the room leaving Brenna and I alone with two guards at the main entrance.

We decide to go and see Gwen in the cells to see how she’s coping but on our way down my sister rushes past us trying to fight her tears.

“Brenna, you go ahead. I need to see if my sister is okay.” I say hurrying after her. “Morgana, talk to me what’s wrong?” I ask despite being fully aware of the situation.

“She’s our friend Y/n. She’s going to pay the ultimate price for a crime she did not commit.” Morgan cries holding onto me.

“No she won’t. I won’t let that happen to her or anyone else that’s falsely accused.” I promise.

“How can you be so sure you heard Uther-“

“It’s me, I’m not going to randomly start listening to what Uther says and agree with it if I don’t, I fight him. Yes he may not like me as an outcome however; I’d have done the right thing, something Uther gets to say he does on the rarest of occasions.” Morgana was silent for a moment as we separated.

“Please help her.” She eventually whispered before walking away, with a new sense of determination I snuck past the guards as Brenna distracted them for me.

I heard voices as I approached, Merlin and Gwen.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry about me. There’s no point crying about it. I mean, I’m not saying that you were going to cry about me. Obviously I don’t think that.” Gwen stammered.

“Oh Gwen.” Merlin whispered, “I can’t have this happen.”

“Please, one thing. You, you don’t have to. But…”

“What?”

“Remember me.” Gwen asked, my heart broke at her words.

“You’re not going to die. I’m not going to let this happen.” Merlin vows as he turns and leaves making me hide behind one of the convenient stick out-ish walls that are all over the castle as he runs right past me.

I step out and slowly approach her, her brown eyes glossy and wide from the tears that currently stained her cheeks. Guinevere was the most innocent and kind soul around, practically everyone in Camelot was friends with her or were at least pleasantly acquainted with her. If the public were allowed to give their verdict they’d all say she was innocent despite the heinous accusations.

“Gwen.” I spoke softly not wanting the guards to know I was there.

“Y/n what are you doing here? If you were to get caught goodness knows what King Uther would do.” Gwen said startled by my presence.

“It’s okay, I can look after myself. But now I’m here to look after you, I promise you Uther will not have his way, you will live I’ll see to that personally.”

“Y/n don’t make promises you can’t always guarantee to keep.” Gwen replied as a fresh tear fell down her face. “Could you promise me something else though? If I am to die tomorrow, please look after my father, he doesn’t have much and I know my death will consume him so please, show him the kindness you show to me and everyone else you encounter, don’t let him fall onto a dark path.” I kept her gaze, I could feel her hopelessness and her sorrow.

“I promise. If that day comes I promise you he’ll be in good hands.”

“Thank you.” Gwen whispered as I took my leave, Brenna once again following after me once I was passed the guards and rounded the corner.

“Y/n Uther is holding a court in process now if we hurry we could try intervene in some way. Brenna spoke causing me to run up the stairs and take the quickest route that would lead us the passage way at the front of the court room.

Upon arrival the double doors burst open and a semi-out of breath Merlin appeared.

“It was me. It was me that used magic to cure Gwen’s father. Gwen is not the sorcerer. I am.” Merlin boldly announced causing Gaius to stand abruptly.

“Merlin! Are you mad?” Gaius spoke in efforts to discourage him.

“I cannot let her die for me. I place myself at your mercy.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Gaius tried as he faced Uther.

“I do.”

“Then arrest him.” Uther ordered taking his seat at the head of the table.

“Father, please I can’t allow this. This is madness! There’s no way Merlin is a sorcerer.” Arthur spoke quickly.

“Did you not hear him? He admitted it.”

“He saved my life, remember?” Arthur tried once again.

“Why should he fabricate such a story?” Uther then asked.

“As Gaius said, he’s got a grave mental disease.” Arthur attempted causing everyone to look over at Merlin.

“Really?” Uther spoke unconvinced as Arthur crossed his arms and nodded even though his face clearly gave away the fact that he was lying.

“He’s in love!” I blurt stepping into the room properly making everyone’s attention including Merlin’s to land on me.

“What?” Merlin asked taken aback by my accusation.

“With Gwen.” I continued to Uther.

“I am not.” He tried.

“Yes, you are.” Arthur said quickly siding with me, it stung slightly if Arthur could see it, it had to be true.

“I saw you with that flower she’d given you.” Arthur too nodded his head as he approached Merlin.

“But…I’m not in love with her.” Merlin said his eyes locked on mine.

“It’s all right.” Arthur said wrapping his arm around Merlin’s shoulders.

“You can admit it.” I added.

“I don’t even think of her like that!” Merlin snapped his eyes never leaving mine.

“Perhaps she cast a spell on you.” Uther teased before laughing making Merlin fall silent for a moment.

“Merlin is a wonder, but the wonder is that he’s such an idiot.” Arthur spoke shaking Merlin whom remained quiet. “There’s no way he’s a sorcerer.”

“Don’t waste my time again. Let him go.” With that Merlin was released and Arthur moved back to his original position at the table.

Not sure of what else to do Merlin awkwardly left, Gaius soon politely dismissing himself to follow after the young sorcerer. Brenna lightly tapped my shoulder and signalled for us to take our leave back through the way we’d entered. We were making our way to the physician’s quarters when we saw Gaius and Merlin leaving it.

“Wait.” I called Brenna and I catching up to them.

“Ah, Y/n. I’m afraid my dear we can’t stop for too long your draught for your headaches is on my bench if you’d like to help yourself?” Gaius spoke.

“Thank you Gaius but, that can wait. Where are you two going?”

“We’re going to try to find out what is causing this disease to prove Gwen’s innocence.” Merlin answered actively avoiding looking at me, he must be angry that I told the court about his love.

“We’ll come too.”

“Y/n. I’m afraid I must insist that you don’t, this could be dangerous.” Gaius attempted to dissuade but, I was having none of it.

“No! I made a promise to myself, to Gwen and to my twin sister! I’m proving Gwen’s innocence whether you let me or not.” Gaius smiled, his eyes filled with pride.

“Of course, you and Brenna may join us but it could still be dangerous.”

“I’m not afraid.” I spoke confidently as Brenna nodded in agreement her face showing an equal amount of determination.

We walked just outside the castle grounds and along the side wall following it around until we reached a wooden door, Gaius pulled out an old key and unlocked the door as we hurried inside. There was one flaming torch at the entrance and the room only had a dark murky set of stairs that lead downwards, Merlin picked up one of the potential torches that lay on the dusty stone ground and lit it off the main flame creating our own source of light as we continued down the uneven steps. Upon reaching the bottom we found other torched lit along the walls granting extra visibility however, Merlin still kept a hold of his.

“This water supplies the whole town. Take a sample.” He spoke to Merlin as we approached a large basin filled with water.

To do as requested, Merlin handed the torch to Brenna before he searched through the satchel grabbing a vial and scooped up some water. Once he’d put it away securely in the bag Brenna handed the torch back to Merlin as we turned to leave.

“Let’s take it back and examine it.” Gaius spoke.

“Well I don’t know about you guys but that wasn’t remotely dangerous.” Brenna said a silly grin on her pale face.

There was a sudden roar behind us and a splash of water causing us to all turn back to the basin. After seeing nothing but suddenly no longer feeling completely safe we hurried back to Gaius’s.

“It was an Afanc.” Gaius spoke after finding something in one of his many books.

“An…A what?” Merlin asked looking down into the book.

“A beast born of clay and conjured up only by the most powerful sorcerer.” Brenna responded making us look at her in confusion and bewilderment.

“Now we have to find a way to defeat it.” I said.

“But where?” Brenna asked as we all looked up at the collection of books Gaius possessed.

“That could take days. Gwen’ll be dead by then.” Merlin spoke anxiously.

“Have you got a better idea?” Gaius asked a smirk made its way onto Merlin’s face as he hurried away.

“Well seen as though he’s ran off we best get started.” I spoke up as I grabbed our first set of books to begin our search for information.

We’d made our way through a fair few books scanning the text on every page for anything about an Afanc, Gaius ended up leaving to go on his supply run promising to be back as soon as he could. I’d moved onto another book when Merlin burst in looking at every book title and occasionally skimming through some text, but Brenna and I remained focused on our task at hand.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” A curious Gaius asked an energetic Merlin, as he entered and placed his satchel down.

“Looking for a book.”

“Care to tell me which one?”

“A book on elements.”

“Elements?”

“Yes. Which one would I find them in?”

“Most of them. The study of base elements is at the very heart of scientific process.” I spoke up my eyes never leaving my book.

“But, how will they help me kill the Afanc?” Merlin asked.

“Well the Afanc is a creature made of earth and water, that’s two of the four base elements.” Brenna answered.

“What about the other two?”

“Well, perhaps they will destroy it.” Gaius suggested. “You want fire-“

“Wind and fire.” I interrupted putting my book down.

“How did you find this out?” Gaius asked Merlin.

“Erm…I just knew, ya’know. Part of my powers.” Merlin replies, my eyes widen in shock, I’d already assumed that Gaius knew but I’m pretty sure Brenna didn’t and here they were off handedly talking about it in front of her.

“What else do your powers tell you?”

“That I’m one side of a coin. The brighter side, obviously.” Merlin says quickly.

“And who’s the other?” Brenna asks seemingly unfazed by all the other revelations.

“That’d be Arthur.”

The door creaks open and in comes my sister.

“They’re bringing forward the execution. We have to prove Gwen’s innocence.” She speaks.

“We’re trying.” Gaius replies.

“Please just tell me what I can do to help.”

“We need Arthur.” I say standing up.

“Arthur?” My sister asks.

“There’s a monster-“ I begin.

“An Afanc in the water supply that’s what’s causing the plague.” Merlin continues as walks toward Morgana.

“We must tell Uther.” Morgana insists.

“The Afanc is a creature forged by magic. Telling Uther would just blame Gwen for conjuring it.” I say and she nods.

“So what are we to do?”

“We need to destroy it. Then the plague will stop and Uther may see sense.” Merlin says.

Personally I wouldn’t bet on those odds but we have to have faith I suppose.

“And that’s why you need Arthur.” Morgana says having caught up with the situation.

“He’s our best chance.” Merlin says firmly.

“But he won’t want to disobey the King.” Brenna states, Morgana’s eyes flick between us.

“Leave that to me.” She says confidently as she goes to locate Arthur.

Gaius hands Merlin the key to the door from earlier and he leaves, me following closely behind him as Brenna and Gaius remain. Merlin and I wait for Morgana to hopefully show up with Arthur in the courtyard so that we can kill this creature and save Gwen’s life. We wait by the makeshift burning stake seeing Arthur and Morgana approach as we lead the way, Arthur drawing his before we even leave the courtyard. We reach the entrance, this time Arthur and Morgana light the torches and carry them as we head to the stone basin.

“You better be right about this Merlin.” Arthur says taking the lead.

There’s a low rumbling growl which startles my sister making her stop and gasp, whilst Arthur scans the area.

“You two should stay here.” Arthur says to Morgana and I.

“We’re coming with you.” I say forcibly.

“No.”

“Scared we’ll show you up?” Morgana teases.

“Father would slam us all in chains if he knew I’d endangered you.” Arthur speaks honestly making me wince at the memories of my last chaining.

Morgana looks at me sympathetically before making her decision.

“Good thing he doesn’t know, then.”

“I’m telling you, turn back. You could get hurt.”

“So could you…if you don’t get out of my way.” With that my sister walks forward taking the lead.

“How’re we gonna find it?” Morgana asks after we hear the Afanc’s growl again.

“Just hope we do, before it finds us.” Merlin says as we continue on.

“Stop!” Arthur calls as we all turn back around.

“What?” Merlin asks before we see a sudden movement.

“It’s just a shadow.” Arthur dismisses, so we continue our search.

“Spread out.” Arthur suggests, there were only three directions to go so I went with my twin.

Within a couple of seconds we hear Arthur grunting and hurry back to him.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Are you alright?” Morgana adds.

“Yeah.” Arthur sighs.

“Did you see it?” Merlin asks hurrying back to us.

“Yes.”

“What did it look like?”

“It, it’s quick.” Arthur right as my sister screams and the beast roars. “Where is it?”

“I think it’s gone this way.” Merlin calls as we follow him.

The Anfac grumbles as is slowly prowls towards us.

“Arthur, use the torch!” I command as he advances toward the creature.

Next to me Merlin begins to chant a spell of some kind whilst Morgana and Arthur are busy with the Anfac, I notice something I’d never noticed before though Merlin’s eyes go a beautiful shade of gold when he casts a spell. For a moment I’d completely forgotten the Anfac was there as I gaze in amazement at Merlin before a gust of wind winds through the tunnels and manipulates the flame on Arthur’s torch allowing it to consume the Anfac. We leave the tunnels after making sure the beast was indeed dead so that we could share our triumph as Arthur sends word to Uther.

Morgana, Merlin and I meet with Brenna and Thomas her father before we rush down to the prison cells, thankfully I’d been granted access seen as though I was with Morgana and we hurried to see Gwen. The moment the cell gate was opened Thomas ran in and hugged his daughter tightly overwhelmed with joy and relief.

“Thank you.” Gwen said to my sister as she parted from her father.

“Don’t thank me. It was more Merlin and Y/n.”

“Really?” She asked.

“He’s more the real hero here.” I said putting a smile on my face.

“I don’t know what to say.” Gwen sighed looking up at Merlin.

“I didn’t do anything.” Merlin laughed uncomfortably.

“I’m grateful to you all. Come on, Gwen.” Her father says as he ushers her out of the cells but not before Brenna pulls her in for a hug and leaves with them leaving me, Morgana and Merlin in the cell.

“Merlin, I wanted you to know…your secret’s safe with me.” Morgana says a serious expression on her face.

She saw, she heard I didn’t think she had but I was relieved that I now needn’t worry about hiding Merlin’s truth from my sister.

“My secret?” Merlin says acting oblivious.

“Merlin, don’t pretend. I know what you did.”

“You do?”

“Saw it with my own eyes.”

“You did?”

“I understand why you wouldn’t want anyone to know.”

“Well obviously.” I murmur.

“But I won’t tell anyone.” She says smiling up at Merlin as he smiles back at her. “You don’t mind me talking to you about it?”

“Er, no. You have no idea how hard it is to keep this hidden.” Merlin replies giddily as my sister laughs, I feel like I should’ve left already but for some reason I remained.

“Well, you can continue to deny it, but I think Gwen’s a very lucky woman.” Morgana finally says, so she didn’t see his magic and she too had picked up on their fondness for one another.

“Gwen?”

“It’s our secret.” Morgana says smiling as she places her finger to her ruby red lips prior to walking away and Merlin lets out a sigh.

“Well, it’s not much but, I still know. I haven’t forgotten and I haven’t told anyone.” I smile at him shyly trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah that’s true, you know, Gaius knows, my mum knows.-“

“Brenna knows.”I add.

“What? I thought you said you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t. She was in the same room as us when you and Gaius were talking about a book about elements, heck she even explained some things to you.” I defended before walking away from him.

Who does he think he is? Thinking that I’d betray someone’s trust like that. I think as I storm up to my chambers to retire for the evening after a hectic day. Brenna knew her services wouldn’t be required for the rest of this evening to I didn’t have her to worry about barging into my room as I began to strip out of my dress and corset abandoning my clothes on the ground before making my way over to my chest of draws and pulling out a night gown when I hear my chamber door slam shut. Instinctively I hide my exposed body behind the night dress.

“Y/n, Gaius asked me to-“ Merlin began before his eyes landed on me.

“MERLIN! Turn around!” I screamed at the raven haired boy, once he did I ran behind my changing screen and put the dress on.

Once I’d regained my modesty, I stepped out from behind the screen and picked up my abandoned clothes and put them in my laundry hamper.

“You can turn around no Merlin. What is it you wanted?” Merlin turned around to face me a familiar vial in his hand.

“Gaius told me to give you this, said they’d help with your returning headaches.” He said placing the vial down on my table.

“Thank you Merlin. Is there anything else you wanted?” I asked my cheeks still slightly flushed from the earlier incident.

“There is one thing.” Merlin said as he walked over to stand directly in front of me.

“Yes?” I questioned trying to slow my pounding heart.

“Why did you tell Uther I’m in love with Gwen?” Okay not what I was expecting if I’m completely honest.

“Well it’s just kind of obvious that she likes you and that you like her, so obvious that not only did Morgana notice but Arthur has done too.” I reply avoiding giving him eye contact.

“What does Brenna think, you value her opinion don’t you?” Merlin urges.

“Well…she thinks you like someone else.” Not entirely a lie.

“And who would that be?” He asks taking a step closer to me his eyes shining with mischief.

“I…I don’t know, she didn’t say.”

“Are you quiet sure of that My Lady?” He says suggestively, this time leaning closer to me.

“I’m honestly not entirely sure of anything right now.” I laugh anxiously not knowing how else to react to his intense line of questioning and closeness.

“What if I were to prove to you I didn’t love Gwen?”

“I seriously don’t know how you’d manage-“ I was cut off by Merlin’s soft lips landing upon mine, my eyes instinctively closing, I’d never been kissed before I didn’t know how to respond.

His lips moved against mine encouraging me to copy his movements as one of his arms slithered around my waist pressing me tightly to him, my right arm cradled around the back of his neck giving me some more support and deepening the kiss. Once I finally realised what was happening I pulled away.

“I’m sorry Merlin, I didn’t mean to…” I couldn’t finish my sentence I was blushing, my heart was pounding and I felt conflicted.

My friend is in love with him, I know she’s in love with him, I can’t be kissing him! I’m ruining her chance at happiness. But I could also be ruining my chance at happiness.

“No, please forgive me that was too forward of me.” Merlin stammers his cheeks pink as he straightens out his clothing, “I just thought…never mind.”

“Merlin. What did you think?” I ask eagerly as he scurries away bumping into some of my furniture, his confidence long gone his clumsiness now returning.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” With that Merlin leaves.

I was overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. Why would Merlin kiss me? He likes Guinevere doesn’t he? Maybe he was just caught up from all the excitement earlier with the Afanc. If ever there was a time to have a Seer to show you or tell you your future. Attempting to push all my thoughts away and out of my mind I drank my requested draught from Gaius and staggered to my bed hoping to put this all behind me.

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thepinkseat-askthemoonbunny · 4 years

Text

Toll The Dead

On the day he opens his eyes, the sun is blindingly harsh. He tries to move his hands only to be greeted by astonishingly smooth skin and dark waves flopping into his vision. He’s trapped for so long that both he and the ancient tree actually died. The difference is, he came back. He wept, although they weren’t tears of joy after being finally freed from his (admittedly deserved, he could say that now) captivity. They were tears of sorrow. Actually, neither freedom nor captivity were in his mind upon his awakening. Instead it was one, all-consuming question took up that space.

How long have I been dead?

The old, dead tree was still the same apart from being a mere husk now. The old grove, the forest was still the same. But Camelot...Camelot was totally different. It no longer existed.

The mighty Pendragon Castle had all but crumbled to dust, the inhabitants long gone either to their respective afterlives, or as shades haunting what was left of the ruined halls. He’d heard whispers that there’d been a great battle long ago, a battle where Arthur had been betrayed by the son he conceived in sin and shame. Arthur. Arthur was gone too, then. Tears pricked Merlin’s eyes anew when he’d heard it...he would never see either of them again. He would never go to heaven and see Arthur’s smiling face, he wouldn’t even float through the gates of hell and embrace his beloved Uther after centuries of being apart. Arthur’s grave was at Avalon, a place that was forever closed to him. Even after all this time Morgana and Nimue’s memories had not dulled, and neither had their power it seemed.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

There were too many memories here, too much had remained the same and too much had changed. All the work of decades was lost, friends and loved-ones were lost. There was no longer a godson, a lover. A mother, a sister or an apprentice to stick around for. Everything around him was a reminder of loss, the world had moved on without him and he had no choice but to move on too.

There was no place for him anymore. Limbs still stiff after being fused to wood for so long, Merlin summoned his weakened magic to conjure not food, not water, but enchanted roses. A bouquet of them: not his finest work but he hoped that the recipients would appreciate the thought.

. . . .

He left one on Uther’s grave below the crypts of Saint-Peter. “Take care, my love.”

He left the second on the floor where Arthur’s throne used to stand, and what was left of his portrait underneath it.

The third he had left at the grave of his mother, who’d insisted she be buried with her fellow sisters.

Speaking of sisters, he gave the fourth to a raven and instructed it to find Ganieda, wherever she was. He would like to see her again, but he didn’t even know if she was still alive.

The fifth and sixth went onto Igraine and Gorlois’ tombs: at least the lady got to be buried beside her true love at the end. Poor, unfortunate woman...she’d been through so much. He figured it was the least he could do. I know nothing I say or do could make up for what I’ve done...but I’ve looked after Arthur. I raised and protected him the best I could, and he became a marvelous king. A marvelous man, I know you’d be proud of him. I am, even though I’ve no right to be.

When the air turned chilly around him for no reason at all, he knew he’d overstayed his welcome. He was not forgiven, that much was clear.

“Why are you here?! You’re not supposed to be here! You don’t have the right...!”

Merlin didn’t even have to look up when the door to the crypt slammed open, he already knew who it was. “Hello, Morgana.”

“How dare you. How dare you defile my parents once again!” Her hair was a halo of fire, wreathing her thunderous face. “You and your lover already took their lives, you could not leave them in peace at their deaths?!”

“I only meant...” Coming here was a mistake. A second step of footsteps rushed into the chamber, that thin face and those blue eyes and that dark hair was burned into Merlin’s brain. He’d last seen it when she was fusing his old and silvered body into the great oak. “How did you get out of the tree?!”

“The tree is dead, Nimue. Look, coming here was a mistake. I’ll take my leave...”

“Do you really think I’m just going to let you walk away?” Morgana took a step forward. “Not this time.”

There were bolts of magic exchanged and smoke kicked up around them, a confusing jumble of light and sound and smell. Merlin barely missed the thorny vine aimed his way...Morgana had always been the more talented of his students. Nimue chimed in with her own magic, like two perfectly synchrd dancers performing a pas-de-deux. He had to get out, he knew he wouldn’t survive much longer if they’d had better aim. In the cloak of smoke and rubble, he slunk out through the first opening he saw, not having the energy to turn into anything bigger than a lizard at this point.

. . . .

It was taking an excruciatingly long time for his magic to come back...of course he’d loved without it before, but it was just so much easier to have it at your disposal. When you have magic, it becomes a part of you and losing it is a lot like losing a limb. He felt like he’d lost a right arm. When he barely escaped with his life, Merlin ran. He didn’t know where he was running to, but he ran. He kept running, and when his magic finally became strong enough he flew.

He didn’t know where he’d ended up, all he knew is that he was on his knees in a thick forest, hair falling in front of his face. It was just as much gray as it was brown at this point, as well as his beard. It was odd, really...forests were once a place of comfort for him. He used to sleep in them to keep dry, he and his sister would play in the forest when they were children but ever since the whole Nimue debacle, forests felt eerie and suffocating to him. He no longer felt free, he felt trapped instead. Perhaps, not as trapped as the unfortunate soul he stumbled upon though.

“Miss? Miss, are you alright?!” Merlin approached warily, making his way toward the figure who was slumped under a great pine...they didn’t have many of those in Britain. The air was much colder here than it was back in Britain as well. Wherever he was, he wasn’t home anymore. It was a woman, that much was certain from the stained yellow-green skirts and delicate fingers. Her dark hair, as salt-and-pepper as his obscured most of her face like a veil. Her one visible eye, which she turned to him was the deep marble-green of bottle glass. She said nothing for a long time, merely stared. It chilled Merlin to see it. When she finally spoke, he merely stared at her in confusion. This was a language he’d never heard before.

“You don’t even speak our language, do you? You’re not from around these parts.” Perhaps noticing his bewilderment, she switched to English...but it was in a thick, somewhat strange accent. At least he could understand her now.

“No ma’am, I am not. I don’t even know how I got here, I was just...”

“Running away from demons?” She tilted her head and gave him a chilling, impish grin, her eyes twinkling with...mischief? Or something else entirely? Merlin sighed, seating himself on the ground next to her. “Yes. They’re of my own making though, unfortunately.”

“We all have demons...we can choose to run from them, we can choose to work with them. I think the latter offers more possibilities, don’t you?”

“I suppose so? Anyway, why are you here? Just resting?”

“Some boys stole my walking stick and when I tried to run after them, I collapsed.”

“That’s awful! Children these days, no respect. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“You’re rather gentlemanly, aren’t you?” Her smile grew wider, and Merlin actually found himself smiling back. “And very kind.”

“Thank you. Did you get your staff back?”

“Unfortunately, no. But it’s alright, I have others. Those little toads will learn the hard way that this old lady’s walking stick isn’t a toy.”

“I wouldn’t call you old, Miss.”

“You’re kind, but a tad slow-witted.” Merlin felt himself stiffen up at that. “Well I...!”

“Don’t get your beard in a knot! I am old, it’s as plain as the age on your own face. I’m not ashamed of it, why should a lady be ashamed of her age?”

“Do you need any help?”

“If you could help walk me home, I’d be grateful.”

. . . .

“We’re here.” The cabin was small, but rather well-kept and surrounded by a thicket of trees. “You live here alone?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m alone. It’s not as if the only company worth keeping is that of the human variety, you know. Come in, I’ll have dinner on the kettle in a minute.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t...”

“I insist! You stopped to help me, at least let me give you a hot meal as a thank-you. And besides, I can use someone to speak to for a while.”

Merlin had intended to leave as soon as dinner was done, but he realized that he had nowhere else to go. He was used to making his own way, he’d be fine. But the old lady offered to let him stay, provided that they exchange knowledge. She could learn from him, and in turn he could learn from her. It confused him until he added it up in his head. Alone in the woods, sprites and imps as housekeepers, all sorts of odd charms hanging about the house? She’s a witch. A powerful one too. Ever since Nimue, he was cautious of sharing his knowledge with anyone...but then again, he knew that was going to happen. And this one didn’t make him promise not to use magic against her...plus she hadn’t poisoned him, maybe it was safe.

He didn’t know her name, and she told him once when he asked that it’d been so long since she used her true name that she’d quite forgotten it herself. But the locals called her Grandmother, at least the ones that came to her for help.

“Why do they call you Grandmother?” Merlin asked one day while she was pouring over one of his borrowed tomes.

“Because I am more powerful than they, and far older and they know it.” They’d pay her tidy sums for her aid, and she’d help them...sometimes at least. Other times, a far more unfortunate fate awaited those that she refused. It was almost as if she could read the hearts of men, and judge whether or not they were worth helping. He actually quite liked it here, a new start where nobody knew who he was. Freedom from politics...he still had his powers as a Seer, but he’d lost his taste for shaping the future long ago. We all know how the last attempts ended...and good company. He and Grandmother seemed to get on like a house on fire: “fortunate for you, because don’t really like many men.” They seemed to understand each other, he liked her clever ways and her cunning and even her strange house. They were in one position when he was awake, and when he was asleep he would find that they’d moved somewhere else in the middle of the night. Whenever he asked her about it, she’d just give him that rapacious grin and ask him to help her with the garden.

. . . .

It went quite well, until Nimue and Morgana found them. The little tin bell that announced visitors had been rung. “Merlin, could you get that?” Grandmother didn’t even look up from the potion she was stirring, and Merlin opened the door to find two familiar faces. “So this is where you’re hiding out now, eh Teacher?” Nimue mused.

“What are you two doing here?” Morgana wrapped her arm around Nimue’s shoulders, and the girl leaned into the embrace. “Why we’re here to kill you, of course!” Her voice was as cheery and light-hearted as a child. “You avoided us for some decades, but now we’ve finally found you!”

“Technically, Nimue already killed me. She trapped me in that tree and I died, remember?”

“Like it was yesterday...but we’re here to make sure that you don’t come back.” Merlin heard the shuffling of feet behind him and Grandmother peered over his shoulder. “Merlin! You didn’t tell me your friends were coming over, I would’ve made more soup!”

“They’re not my friends.”

“We’re not his friends.” The sentences were said in tandem so that they blurred together, making it hard to distinguish who spoke first. “Look lady, you don’t know what that man in front of you has done...” Morgana began, but Grandmother held up a hand to silence her. “Oh I’m very aware, he’s told me. I trust you young ladies punished him?”

“Not nearly as much as we would’ve liked...but the tree thing was marvelous, I have to give it to Nim.” Morgana leaned in to kiss her cheek, and Nimue smiled up at her. Merlin noticed the way the girls hung off of each other; that easy rapport they had developed. The aura they radiated reminded him a lot of he and Uther once upon a time. When had that happened? Not that it mattered now.

“This is my battle, I’ll deal with them. You don’t have to involve yourself...” Merlin whispered to her, but Grandmother’s glare made him quiet instantly. So much so that it puzzled the redheads in the doorway...who was this woman that could silence the most powerful wizard in the world with a single look? That’s when Morgana noticed it, the staff in her hand. “You’re...you’re...” the sorceress whispered, recognizing the symbol from her books.

“Yes, I am. And you’re not going to take my study buddy from me, are you?”

“But Grandmother!” Nimue protested. “He’s...!”

“Done his time. I believe in women taking back their power, but it seems you’ve already done that. I mean, I think trapping him in a tree for some centuries and leaving him to die is a suitable punishment...I would’ve done the same thing myself. I like him, and I’ve decided to keep him. It seems he’s had quite a bit of time to think while in confinement.”

“He’s a slippery one, Grandmother.” Morgan’s tone was heavy and wooden, much like her house.

“I’m even slipperier. Not to worry girls, I’ve been taking care of myself before him and if he gets out of line, I’ll take care of that too.”

“And if he gets up to his old tricks again?”

“Then he’s for the streets and I’ll personally call you so you can take him off my hands. If there’s anything left of him.” Her voice was as cheery as ever, but there was something coming from the old woman. Something sinister, frightening...wreathing her like flame. Morgana shrank back. “Yes, Grandmother.” The young sorceress’ jaw tightened in protest, but she said nothing further.

“Good. Now run back off to your country, girls. I’m sure you must have things that require your attention.”

Morgana made to turn around, Nimue rushing after her. “We finally have him in our grasp and we’re just going to walk away?!”

“Nim, that witch is more powerful than you, me and perhaps Merlin put together! He’s not worth it...what chance do either of us have against Baba Yaga?”

The cabin’s two “human” occupants watched Nimue and Morgana’s retreating backs, Merlin turned to Grandmother in shock. “I thank you. But...why?”

“Because I like you, you amuse me. Like I said when we first met, I keep all sorts of company. But sometimes human company can be pleasant too.” Her face turned into the sinister, somewhat terrifying mask it was when they’d first met. “This is your second chance. Don’t fuck it up, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes. Crystal.”

“Excellent!” The grin was back on her face. “Now come along, let’s get out of here.”

“Baba Yaga, huh? So you do have a name.”

“It just means Granny Yaga. Yaga is a word that means wicked or frightening, more of an epithet than a name. Come on.”

. . . .

Later that night, Merlin simply placed the last rose into the vase on the dining room table. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got left.” The witch gave him a slow smile. “Well, aren’t you quite the gentleman?”

“Hey, I was thinking...”

“I’m not the marrying type, so you can save it. I tried it once and it didn’t end very well, so I swore never again.” She stared through him as if he were made of glass.

“We don’t have to get married!” Merlin said quickly. “We can still be friends, with a...side hustle, if you want.”

“Side hustle? Is that what they call it these days?”

“I panicked, alright?!”

“No persistent pleas to return your love?”

“The last time I tried that shit, I was trapped in a tree for eight hundred years. And I have a fear that you would do even worse to me so no, not worth it.”

She gave one of her rare low chuckles. “Friends with a side hustle, I like it. Let’s be off then, I’m bored and I have locals to terrorize. Plus I haven’t really made the little shits that took my staff pay yet.”

There was a rumbling beneath them, but the witch didn’t seem to be affected. Merlin looked over the cabin’s porch and watched as they rose into the air, higher and higher before finally stopping. “Are those...chicken legs?!”

“Of course, how else do you think the house moves? Did you think it just floated on its own?!”

#merlin #arthuriana #arthurian legend #king arthur #slavic mythology #russian mythology #baba yaga #my story #morgana #morgan le fay #nimue #viviane #lady of the lake #uther pendragon

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captain-lonagan · 4 years

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Merlin Was Supposed To Die

i have to go to sleep soon because i have to get up for work in five hours but i just had a really insane headcanon pop up into my head:

so every hero is defined by their villain. and i don’t mean in a “villain merch sells more than hero merch” way, i mean a hero’s strength can only be proven by how strong The Big Bad they kill is. and people rally around a person who can keep them safe from The Big Bad. so if arthur is meant to get all of albion to unite, he’ll have to prove himself and rally his people. so big battle against The Big Bad would be pretty ideal and would be pretty in line with the tone of prophecies. big battle makes the hero a big star.

which just begs the question: Who is The Big Bad(TBB)?

most of you would immediately say Morgana or Mordred. but mordred is a scrappy druid kid who learned to be a knight. yes he’s powerful but at the end of the day is he really Unite Albion levels of terrifying? he’s an angry, heartbroken kid. a powerful one, yes. but not enough to inspire a country. so morgana, right? surely she’s enough? and we’re almost there, morgana is pretty powerful and she did scare a lot of people. but not so much. morgana’s threat was entirely focused on camelot or anyone who directly provoked her. she could be negotiated with if you weren’t aligned with arthur or weren’t directly opposing her. so she’s not really something for the whole of albion to fear so long as they treat her half decently(or at least that’s how a lot of people would view her). Morgause? a radical high priestess, weaker than morgana, small potatos. Kilgarrah? literally did anyone outside of camelot give a fuck about kilgarrah? no, because he didn’t bother anyone else. and yes, these people would bother someone else if provoked. but their powers aren’t big enough or wild or out of control enough to really terrify everyone unanimously.

So who is powerful enough to unite an entire continent in fear of their power? who is a bother to everyone else? who would demolished entire armies single handedly? hell, who Has demolished an entire army single handedly? Merlin. Emrys. if anyone can unite an island of divided countries in fear, its the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. after he inherits his full power in the cave merlin is practically a god. regardless of his own intentions or personality, he is powerful enough to make people afraid simply based on that. so for a moment let’s consider: what if arthur was supposed to kill merlin?

i mean we have this kid, a bastard, ostracized and hurt for all his life. the only ones who he loved and was loved by in return were his best friend and mother. he goes to camelot. he sees his people murdered, brutally, humiliatingly. he sees uther, feasting and thriving. he sees a shining prince, who in early merlin’s mind was an absolute Ass, remember? and yeah merlin makes some friends but other than lancelot none of them fully know and accept him, and lancelot left. gaius is alright, but he’s not particularly good company in the whole Magical Closet department. so what if, when nimueh offers merlin the chance to change sides, or when cornelius sigan says merlin should join him, it’s more than just standard villain monologue? what if it’s fate pushing him towards his “destiny”? arthur killed freya, what if that was meant to be another catalyst? can we trust kilgarrah to tell the whole truth when he’s so blinded by his own biases and goals?

because let’s think here: a lot of early villains, even small ones, pushed merlin to go dark side. later villains were made by merlin’s decisions to try and do good. you will never convince me morgana was truely destined for evil. i love merlin, but if he had done things with her a little differently the show would’ve gone very differently. mordred, ALL OF MORDRED, was made by merlin’s choices. if merlin hadn’t interfered with morgause, regardless of whether it was the right thing to do or not, arthur would’ve believed magic to be good(or at least neutral) and uther would be dead. if we’re going with morgana being handled well, maybe she’d get to train as a high priestess and become educated in the old religion. because much as we like to nominate merlin for court court sorcerer based on his power, he knows literally nothing about the magical community.

so if we look at those villains and you look at merlin’s background of pain and the power he has that overwhelms him, that he can’t contain, that makes him wonder if he’s a monster, is it so insane to wonder if maybe he was supposed to snap? to lose control or to step a little too dark into the moral gray area? now i’m not saying merlin would be moustache-twirling evil, he’d probably be as terrified of his power then as he was in season one. i’m thinking merlin, guilt-ridden and terrified of the power that bleeds and bursts from his fingers. i’m thinking merlin, lost and caught in a whirlwind he can’t seem to find any control over. i’m thinking merlin, slowly realizing that maybe he is the monster.

so now you’re wondering, “alby, even if that batshit insane idea is plausible, merlin didn’t actually go evil. what’s your reasoning for that?” to which i respond “arthur was supposed to unite albion in a golden age so maybe fate doesn’t always go how it’s meant to”. maybe something happened that fate didn’t plan for. merlin fell in love. he took a leap of faith and landed on a shiny prince. maybe merlin wasn’t meant to be so loyal, so patient, so faithful. maybe arthur wasn’t meant to grow more and more fond of his servant. maybe the love that so many tumblr users and fic writer praise as fated wasn’t meant to happen at all. and even if they did fall in love, merlin would still be pulled into the whirlwind.

maybe merlin was meant to look at the death and destruction he created on a battlefield or in a forest or in a city and turn to arthur and say, “if you ever loved me, kill me,”

because to kill a beast as powerful as an emrys, to defeat a such a powerful mad monster, that requires a true hero(a true king) to unite all the people who had cowered in fear.

because only one side of a coin can face up. because merlin is meant to help arthur unite albion, but nobody trustworthy ever says how.

i’ve got a lot more thoughts on this but i now have about 4 hours to sleep before i need to get up for work so i’ll leave this here. just think about it.

#OOF #ITS ANGSTY #BUT I LIKE THIS HEADCANON #long post #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #arthur #arthur pendragon #headcanon

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turnsoutnoonewasexaggerating · 3 years

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Merlin (BBC) fic part 1

You were the one to teach me how to use knives

Welp I wrote a Merlin fic. It has been inevitably brewing for about 9 years, it’s honestly a wonder I left it this long.

Summary: Merlin chose to save Mordred against the dragon's advice. He should have made the same choice for Morgana. In which Merlin is more than a little fed up of old men and old dragons telling him what to do, and gives Morgana some hope. Maybe it won't change the dark path she's destined to walk down... Or perhaps in doing so, Merlin saves all of Albion from her wrath. Featuring the emotional catharsis and continuity we were denied in canon and a systematic re-writing of what could have been

Chapter summary: The Nightmare Begins (Part One)

Merlin decides to let Morgana in on one of his secrets instead of sending her to the druids

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28387470/chapters/69556197

Fic under the cut

Merlin couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. When he first arrived in Camelot, it was the noise of the city that kept him awake. Or, more accurately, the lack of farm noise. Merlin had been falling asleep to the sound of cows mooing as they settled down for the night for 19 years. So that first week or so in Camelot? It was the silence. Now, what keeps Merlin awake, after witnessing countless innocent sorcerers be beheaded, a singing enchantress, a snake shield, an afanc, being poisoned, a griffin, a creepy beetle-obsessed madman, the first in what Merlin just knew was going to be a long line of Arthur getting magically enchanted into falling in love with some beautiful woman, having to decide between letting a child get murdered or ignoring the advice of an ancient dragon, an undead knight, losing Will, thinking he’d lost Arthur to some magical unicorn poison, killing people to stop them killing a King who would execute him in a second if he knew what he was, almost losing Arthur, his mother and Gaius during the Questing Beast fiasco (and the power that ran through him, that deadly, furious power that felt so… good), a raven-themed madman, and, just last week, foiling yet another assassin hell-bent on killing Arthur, it’s the nightmares that keep him awake now.

Nightmares have been on his mind during the day too, but not his own. He huffed and rolled out of bed, fed up of tossing and turning. He had meant to go to the dragon early the next morning instead of this late at night, but Merlin doesn’t think there’s currently a curfew in place. Probably. With all the stuff that Camelot has had to fend off in the last year and a bit since Merlin’s been here, it’s hard to keep track of when Camelot’s in lockdown or not. He was going to ask the dragon for the location of the druids. They could help Morgana and then Merlin wouldn’t have technically broken his promise to Gaius to keep her in the dark. When he got to the top of the passageway however, he couldn’t convince himself to go any further. Instead, the words kept swirling around in his head.

I'm scared, Merlin. I don't understand anything anymore. I need to know what's happening. Please. Morgana’s begging, the usual no-nonsense woman distraught, practically on the verge of tears, won’t leave his mind. His feet stick, incapable of travelling further down the passage. Merlin’s nearing that verge himself. It’s too much, too much to expect of him. He’s not even yet of age, a year younger than Arthur but the fate of what feels like the entire world on his shoulders. Gaius helps, gods, even the dragon helps sometimes, but neither of them know what it’s like to bear this burden. To struggle, over and over again, to be kind where he wants to be furious, and furious where he wants to be kind. Would he be able to live with himself if Mordred did grow up to kill Arthur? Probably not. But he would be able to live with himself if he’d left Mordred to be caught and executed by Uther? Also no. And now, Gaius and the dragon want him to leave Morgana in that darkness? They want him to repay the woman that risked her reputation and even her life for him and his family, with betrayal?

Merlin had to believe the prophecies were real, had to believe that Arthur would make a better kingdom for those with magic. He couldn’t risk that prophecy for anyone, not even Morgana. The dragon said that Morgana had evil in her heart, that she would be the dark to Merlin’s light. Perhaps that will be true, perhaps Morgana will ruin him. But he knew that she had saved Uther instead of killing him, had forgiven him despite everything he had done. Not forgotten, no, she was not that kind of person. She’d forgiven him though, and Merlin didn’t think that sounded like evil. He thought, perhaps, that sounded like someone capable of the best kind of love. Why was he expected to judge her on her future actions? What if betraying her now, with his silence, with his lack of action, was what caused her to become evil?

The Merlin that turned away from the passageway and went up the stairs had been influenced by a single conversation, not that the man himself would ever know it. A single conversation that Merlin wasn’t even really a part of.

The conversation had happened months before, when a Lord that Merlin can barely remember the name of now had come to visit Uther. In another life, the Lord would be waylaid by snow for a couple of days, and the entirety of his trip would pass while Merlin and Arthur were on one of Arthur’s many hunting trips. In this one, he’d made it to the castle before Arthur’s hunting trip, and so it was Merlin who was serving Arthur wine at the Lord’s welcoming banquet. It had been a fairly boring evening, as Arthur had not been drinking nearly as much as Uther and his Lord, and so Merlin had not had much to do. In his clumsiness, he had tripped on his way towards Arthur, just a minor stumble, no wine even spilled, but the clatter of the jug as he kept it balanced drew the attention his way. The Lord had frowned at him, not in the same scowl-like way as Uther, nor in the exasperated (but fond) way Arthur did, but with confusion. He clicked his tongue a moment later, hands waving unsteadily.

“Uther, do you not think he looks like Balinor?” Uther, drunk enough to not be quite so curt but still, well, Uther, straightened.

“The boy, Merlin?” Merlin froze, eyes downcast. “No I don’t see it. Besides, Balinor died in the first few months of the Great Purge, hunted down like the traitor he was.”

“Hmm, true, true.” The Lord had said placatingly. “The man was ever so much fun at a party though. Do you remember the time he enchanted you to-”

“It’s getting late.” Uther said, with finality. “And you’re getting old and much too drunk.” The Lord had chuckled and they had retired for the night. Merlin had gone through the motions of getting Arthur ready for bed in a bit of a shaken daze, not used to ever being noticed by Uther. He wasn’t actually sure Uther knew his name until tonight.

He’d gone back to his quarters with Gaius, who’d noticed immediately that he was looking a little off. “Is everything alright Merlin?”

“Yes, yes, fine. The Lord that Uther is entertaining tonight, he just made a strange comment, said I looked like a man they used to know. A sorcerer by the sounds of it, who was killed during the Great Purge.”

“Who?” Gaius said, worry lacing his tone, as it did every time magic was mentioned. Merlin knew why, had nightmares weekly about why, but it still cut some part of him, the way that magic was spoken of in whispers and fear even here.

“Balinor.”

“Balinor!” Gaius exclaimed, though still in hushed tones. He shook his head, turning away from Merlin’s curious eyes. “What did Uther say? Merlin, what did he say?”

“He said he couldn’t see it himself. Gaius what’s going on?” Gaius exhales in relief.

“Merlin you’re not to go near that Lord again, do you hear me? I’ll tell Arthur I need you urgently for apprentice tasks, until he’s gone.” Merlin was surprised by the fervour at which Gaius demanded this, used to his uncle pleading his case instead.

“Gaius, what are you talking about?”

Gaius shook his head again, mumbling under his breath. “I promised Hunith I would never speak of this… But you must understand the danger you’re in. Merlin, Uther cannot think that you are related to Balinor, or he’ll have you on the pyre before you can blink.” Merlin held up his hands placatingly.

“Alright Gaius, well that’s fine because I’m not related to this Balinor fellow, whoever he was. Uther said he died before I was born.”

“And that is how we must keep it. Uther must never know that Balinor could still be alive.”

“Gaius you’re not making any sense. Why did you make my mother any promises about this man I’ve never heard of?!”

“Merlin…” Gaius gripped Merlin’s shoulders, smiled sadly down at him. “Merlin, I have always treated you as if you were my son.” Merlin softened, a smile lighting his own face. “But that is not who you are. The reason the Lord thinks you look like Balinor is because he is your father.”

Merlin stumbled out of Gaius’ hold, smile dropping from his face. “My… My father? W- What-”

“Balinor was a Dragonlord. He could do a little magic too, but his main power came from his ability to talk to and tame dragons. As such, he had a title, here in Camelot, back before the Great Purge. If I remember correctly, he was a favourite of Queen Ygraine, Arthur’s mother. And then… After- After, I helped him escape. I sent him to my sister’s, despite the danger it put her in. Uther eventually located him, and sent knights to Ealdor to hunt him down. He fled, to protect your mother. Hunith… He has no idea you even exist Merlin. She didn’t find out she was pregnant until he was long gone.”

“Why did neither of you ever tell me this?!”

“It was too dangerous, and Hunith didn’t want to hurt you. Uther is of the opinion his knights were successful. If he’s alive, no-one knows where he is.”

“I had a right to know.” Merlin snarled, eyes welling up. “He was my father. I had a right to know.”

Merlin doesn’t consciously know that finding out who his father was- not long before, in another life, he would have found out anyway- is the reason he turned away from that passageway tonight, but that same feeling of righteousness, that dark empty pit inside of him that screams to find somewhere to belong, the one that is only sometimes quietened when he and Arthur work together to solve some quest (usually unbeknownst to Arthur), it gets louder when he thinks about how alone Morgana is, how terrified she is, and by the time he’s stood outside Morgana’s door, he knows exactly what he’s going to stay.

Knock, knock.

The rap of his knuckles against the door is quiet, wary of the guards patrolling the castle. Still, he supposes he could simply pretend he was here to deliver another sleeping draught, and by the way Morgana’s face drops when she answers the door, that’s what she thinks too.

“Merlin, I told you I don’t want another remedy-”

“I’m not here with a sleeping draught. May I come in?” Morgana searches his face with her clever green eyes, but, though she is as beautiful as ever, Merlin is focused on the dark shadows under her eyes, the tremor in her hands.

She steps back to let him in and watches with trepidation as he closes the door behind himself, fastening the latch. “Merlin, what-”

“Morgana, what you advise me to do, if I told you I had a secret that could help you, but doom everybody else? If I told you this secret would save you, but it would put everyone I care for in danger, my mother, Gaius, Gwen, Arthur, even you? That would definitely kill me. Could you understand that there are some things I cannot say that you could, because of the position you hold? Could you understand there are many times I have agreed with you and not been able to say so? Would you ask me to tell you my secrets anyway, knowing the risk?”

“I… No, Merlin. I wouldn’t ask that of you. Not to save myself. But I don’t understand-”

“My Lady, I know we are not the closest of our lot.” Merlin smiles wryly, thinking of the way Arthur had kissed Gwen, the way Gwen brought flowers for Morgana every day she could, the hours spent gossiping with Gwen in laundry, the days spent mutually saving each other’s lives with Arthur. “And I know it is not appropriate to consider you a friend, probably not even appropriate for me to be here right now. But you risked your life for Camelot’s people, and you risked your life for Gwen’s father and you risked your life to come to the aid of my village. There are things I cannot tell you, for the reasons I have already stated. I hope, when you eventually learn them, you will forgive my secrecy in light of the consequences. But for all that you have done, and the goodness I know you have, I must tell you something, because I cannot stand for you to feel alone.” Merlin cleared his throat. “Morgana, I believe you. You know of what I speak. I’m sorry I did not say it before; I was too scared. Because, Morgana, your protection here holds only as long as this is unknown. You are already so vocal about the injustices you perceive. You are too sympathetic already. Too suspicious. Do you understand?”

“You did not say it before… Because you believed I was safer in ignorance?”

“Yes. I still believe you are. But I realised I feared more for what feeling alone would do to you than what could happen to you if anyone found out.”

“I need to hear you say it Merlin. Please. It is driving me mad.”

“Morgana,” Merlin takes one of her trembling hands and clasps it in both of his, “I believe you have magic.” Morgana shudders, equal parts relieved and terrified, eyelashes wet with tears. She takes several deep breaths, and then squeezes his hand and takes hers back, looking steadier than she has in days.

“Alright, now what?”

“First of all, I will keep your secret. I won’t betray your trust.”

“I know, Merlin.”

“Then I have another thing to tell you, so I can prove that I trust you in return.” Merlin cannot give her the core of him, not when it could be the death of Arthur. But he can tell her something that should only harm him. “My father was magic. He was born with it, just like you. And through him… I know enough. I can help you control it. Train you. If you’d like.”

“I’ve never heard you talk about your father, I guess I know why now.” Morgana says, eventually. “Is he…?” Merlin shakes his head.

“Uther.” He says, softly, and that’s all it takes. Morgana’s eyes blaze with a fire he knows is not aimed at him.

“Of course.” She says, scornful. Abruptly, she softens. “I’m sorry Merlin.”

“Thank you.”

“I want to learn how to stop the nightmares. So, if you’re sure, I’ll gladly accept your tutelage.”

“There are limits to what I can teach you, I don’t know many spells. You could perhaps learn more going to the druids. But I fear if you were suddenly to disappear, Uther would not think you had left of your own accord.”

“And then he would take it out on the druids.” Morgana nods. “I won’t put them in danger. All I really need to know is enough to stop the dreams. Anything else would be more dangerous than sensible, with the court as it is.”

“I will not be able to teach you how to completely stop the visions, Morgana. If I’m right, you’re a Seer. The visions shouldn’t keep you from sleeping, however. I think because your magic is pent up, it’s escaping into your dreams. If you can get rid of the excess magic, you should be able to get through a night’s sleep.”

“What do you mean, a Seer?”

“Not all your dreams,” Merlin cautions, “but some of them; they’re prophetic. Do you remember when you dreamed of Sophia drowning Arthur?”

Morgana frowns, puzzled. “Yes, but I was wrong; Arthur became besotted with her and you managed to talk him out of it.” Merlin smirks, but it fades as he remembers the way Arthur had sunk into the lake, out of Merlin’s reach.

“Not quite. Her father had enchanted him to become enamoured with her. Sophia was mostly innocent,” but you still killed her Merlin, “but she did try to drown him. The heart of a mortal prince is a very potent ingredient in some dark magic spells. I-” Merlin coughs, can’t keep eye contact with her. “I killed her father. I didn’t tell Arthur the plot was magical in nature. Didn’t want him trying to track down Sophia.”

Morgana stares at him with appraising eyes. “You’ve saved him more often than he knows, haven’t you?” Merlin laughs, without a trace of humour.

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“He will.” Merlin says, with all confidence. “Arthur will be the greatest king the world has ever known.”

“You truly believe that.”

“I do.” Merlin smiles at her disbelief. “Arthur is not his father.”

“Perhaps not.”

“I already think, if Arthur became the king tomorrow, magical people would only be executed if they did something bad with it. He’d probably still banish anyone else; I’m not condoning that. But I hope he has the chance to see magic be used for good. It is difficult for him to have to relearn everything he’s been taught, especially when magic has been used against him so many times.”

“Not as difficult as it is to live in constant fear of being killed for something you can’t control.” Morgana says, hotly. Merlin inclines his head.

“No. That’s true.”

Morgana shakes her body a little, resetting herself. When she straightens, she’s back, for a moment, to the Morgana he first met, proud and strong and fierce. He can’t help but grin broadly at the sight of her. “Enough about Arthur. When do we start with my training?”

#my fic #my writing #merlin #Merlin fanfic #YWTOTTMHTUK #Arthur Pendragon #Morgana #Fix-it fic #AU

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alcoholicseraphim · 7 years

Text

The Year Before Tomorrow

Chapter Sixteen- Year III- Foster Locum

The holding cell was at least clean and warm, which was a vast improvement over her cell in Azkaban. The lack of Dementors and the regular meals were pluses as well. Hermione hardly felt she could ask for more.

The books were the most important thing, though. The "library" that Midgeon had spoken about was more of a catalogue. Hermione decided that she hated this method of researching. How was she supposed to gauge how helpful any book would be if she couldn't hold it, check the table of contents, skim through it? She was glad that she was researching genealogy, a heavily-documented and very general subject.

She scribbled the titles down on a bit of parchment and showed it to her babysitter. "Would it be too much trouble to order me these?" she'd say, looking down at her feet.

At first, she wasn't allowed to take the books into her holding cell, but a chat with Midgeon cleared that up rather quickly. A bit of logic, deference, and sad eyes made him see her point of view. "I'm trying to find my family," she said, voice quivering just a little. "And there are so many families. I'd like to reunite with them as soon as possible."

Her next move was to convince him to allow her access to newspapers. As soon as he caved, Hermione could see why he'd hesitated. She was all over the front page for the first few days, and there were articles published nearly every day. Some painted her as a demon child, while others allowed some sympathy to slip through. Most were suspicious. All were curious.

Would it be a break in character to ignore these articles? She shouldn't lay it on too thick, though. Caricatures people may be, but they rarely liked to think of themselves that way.

"Could I possibly start looking through some foreign newspapers, sir? I don't think my family lives here; otherwise, I would be in the system and found already. Right?"

Midgeon hesitated but allowed it. "Just in Europe, understand?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you!"

It took weeks for her to find an opening. There was an article on the fourth page of La Voyante, which as far as Hermione could tell reported the murders of a nuclear family which belonged to a minor branch of the Selwyn clan. 36-year-old Ygraine and 42-year-old Uther were found burnt alive in their homes, while the body of their daughter, 15-year-old Genevieve, affectionately called Veva, was missing. Another hour or two of flipping through the Selwyn family tree revealed that not only was this branch so far removed as to barely respond to Selwyn blood magic, Genevieve also had brown hair and eyes. No portrait was provided and no details beyond that very basic description.

The story was beginning to come together.

Veva's family was visited by unknown ruffians (she would probably imply that they were Death Eaters, for the sake of simplicity) and Veva watched them be tortured and killed. When they turned to her, her fear overwhelmed her and her magic exploded, sending her to Azkaban for unknown reasons. Her clothes were probably already separated from her body, which would explain why she'd arrived completely nude. Her mind had short-circuited and wiped her memory, and her magic became entirely unstable.

All she had to do was fake a slow recovery of her mental faculties. Well, that and pretend to continue researching.

She shuffled that issue of La Voyante into her "to be read" pile.

The whole night Hermione struggled to create a false memory. It had been some time since she'd done it, and she feared her skills may be rusty. It wouldn't matter too much, she consoled herself, if the memory was fuzzy or if some details were misplaced. Trauma did that, sometimes.

Hours, it took her. Hours. It was worth it, however; by the end, she'd manufactured emotions so genuine she could feel them resonate within her.

Her babysitter sat across the table from her and squinted at paperwork. He was a middle-aged man by the name of Twilling, and Hermione felt an odd mingling of kinship and disquiet. Perhaps he reminded her of her father.

Hermione picked up the next issue of La Voyante and spent several minutes scanning each article and flipping pages. She reached the fourth, read the headline, and stared at one word: Veva. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

She lay under the covers in the dark, listening to the front door creak open. Was Maman putting the cat outside? No, she would have heard the stairs creaking. And there, they were- that could only mean someone had come in.

A sense of acute dread flooded her body, and she slid out of bed. She would need to hide, that much was certain. Being careful not to disturb anything on the floor or make any sound at all, she shuffled to the closet and stepped inside before shutting it. The bolt clicked into place, and she winced at even that tiny noise.

Time stood out in sharp relief as she listened intently. She could feel her heartbeat in her veins.

Footsteps in the hallway grew closer, passing by her bedroom and approaching her parents' room. There was silence for several moments, and then Maman's scream split the air apart. It was cut off abruptly, which she found even more unsettling. She could do nothing but listen to the thud of two bodies hitting the floor, and the smaller thuds caused by what she assumed were thrashing limbs.

She wished her closet didn't share a wall with her parents' bedroom. She wished she had her wand. She wished jumping out of her window wouldn't kill her.

Most of all, she wished she couldn't hear the intruders taunts and laughter.

"Veva, you say?" said a man, his voice raspy and cruel. "Your little girl? Don't worry about her. She'll be next."

Renewed thrashing, more snickers. "You won't have to see it. You won't live that long." And then, the unmistakable, "Avada Kedavra."

"Are you all right, miss?" Twilling asked, clearly alarmed. He even set down his quill.

Hermione blinked and looked up at him. "I'm- I don't know," she whispered. "I saw something. I mean, I, I, I remember."

"A memory?"

"Yes, a memory." Hermione let her gaze soften more, giving the impression even though she was staring right at him that she was looking behind Twilling. "My name is Veva, I think."

"What exactly was this memory?" Twilling asked, all business now. He rummaged around in the pocket of his robes for a moment before pulling out a Quick Quotes Quill.

"My parents are dead," she said after a moment, her voice toneless and detached. "I really am an orphan." Before Twilling could motion her to elaborate, Hermione continued. "I never saw them. I was hiding in my closet and I heard the whole thing. They- they said I would be next."

Twilling looked disappointed that she was being so vague, but he had the tact not to press her for more. Perhaps it was the fact that she was on the verge of tears that convinced him not to. He stowed the Quill away in his pocket and looked at her gravely through bushy white eyebrows. "Would you like to be called Veva from now on?"

Hermione nodded and added for good measure, "I would like that, yes."

*|II8II|*

From then on Hermione wasn't the only one actively searching for her "family". It wasn't a priority by any means, and as far as Hermione knew no one was specifically assigned to the task. Her various babysitters did periodically comfort her with their progress, however.

As emotionally and mentally taxing as it was to construct new memories for a separate traumatized girl, it was a necessary task. She'd already compiled a list of facts that must be included in these memories in some way, a list which was already rapidly growing. For example, Veva mostly spoke French in her family, and had been home-schooled. Beauxbatons taught girls how to use their feminine wiles, according to Veva's mother, and both of her parents were very much opposed to the idea. While they were not pureblood supremacists, they did believe in a heavily patriarchal society and religion. Veva was to remain sheltered from the world until such time as suitors were to petition for her hand.

Never before had all of her research into pureblood culture been so useful.

It was July 31st when Hermione lost patience. She'd been dropping hint after hint, even going so far as to "accidentally" drop the La Voyante article onto the table right next to her supervisor. It was more of a character test than an actual bid for freedom, so Hermione wasn't too frustrated, but Hermione had never been patient.

"It's this one," she said, minute traces of a French accent slipping into her usual received pronunciation. "I'm in this one."

She'd picked Twilling on purpose, as the one she'd judged to have the most concern for her. He had two daughters, she'd learned. He looked up immediately, proof that he was a good choice. "What does it say?" he asked, even while holding out his hand to receive the paper himself. Hermione passed it to him without answering, and waited for his eyes to finish skimming the article. "Selwyn?" he murmured aloud, stroking the stubble where before he'd had a full beard. "From France?" He looked up from the newspaper and straight at her, assessing her.

"Do I pass muster, sir?" she quipped, adding a lip tremble and a bubble of tears in both eyes. She brought out the French accent just a bit more.

"I'll speak with the Minister," he said, and stood. "You'd better follow me." He took a moment to scribble a warning and send it with his pygmy owl, Dowry. As soon as the owl took flight, Twilling grasped her shoulder and steered her out into the hallway.

Hermione could hardly speak; the excitement choked her words before they could even form. About halfway up the lift to Midgeon's office, Hermione realized she had to compose herself. Veva would be excited, but that joy would be tempered by grief. She did her best to cobble together an altered version of the memory of finding the article as well. She was putting the finishing touches on it when Midgeon allowed them in.

"I think you'd better read this, sir," Twilling said, holding out the newspaper. Hermione waited for Midgeon to read, then read again, and then again, with as much tolerance as she could muster. Eagerness made it hard to stand still.

Midgeon said nothing for several moments while he too examined Hermione. "Selwyn, you say?" he said.

"That's me," whispered Hermione. "That's me."

"So it appears to be," said Midgeon. He glanced skyward. "The patriarchal branch is within the UK, conveniently enough. I'll have to convince them to meet with me. I suggest," he looked at Hermione again, "you do as much research as you can."

"I will, sir," Hermione said, keeping her scorn nailed to her throat.

Midgeon dismissed them both, and Hermione returned to the "library" to peruse the catalogue once more.

*|II8II|*

The Selwyns had no problems with meeting her, to Hermione's delight. "If all goes well, we can have you home by tomorrow," Midgeon said. "The only thing that would keep them from taking you in now is any major flaw on your part, which I find unlikely." Hermione thought that that was a little too optimistic, but she didn't argue.

On August 3rd, Morfan and Rhea Selwyn Flooed into the Atrium shortly after nine in the morning. Hermione knew about it immediately, being perched in Midgeon's office waiting anxiously for them to show up. Midgeon looked up from his paperwork and smiled at her. "Just a few more minutes," he said.

Keeping up appearances was, in this instance, no problem at all. She really was eager to meet with the Selwyns. She was even more eager to stop wasting time and get out of the Ministry and into the real world.

Hermione heard their footsteps sounding down the hallway from the moment they stepped out of the lift, thanks to the sound-enhancing charm on the Minister's office. There were only the two pairs, so either one of them decided not to come or they had no escort. It was entirely possible that it was a show of trust on the Ministry's part. Clever, she thought.

The rap on the door was decisive- Rhea Selwyn, she supposed. Midgeon waved his wand and the door opened. The Selwyns showed no hesitation in stepping through, as if they consorted with the highest-ranking government official every few days. It was, perhaps, close enough to the truth.

"Good morning, Minister Midgeon," Rhea said with perfect grace. Morfan mumbled an echo of his wife's greeting, looking down at his feet.

Hermione, making sure to keep her face hopeful and somewhat fearful, took the opportunity to examine her possible new guardians. Rhea Selwyn was, according to the genealogy books, in her late twenties, and she looked it. She was a strong, if somewhat plain, woman, with soft mother's eyes and a steely matron's voice. Her dark brown hair was plaited in a circlet around her head with a perfection that could only have been accomplished by a house elf. Her robes were elegant but simple, a sweeping black cloak down to her feet.

Morfan Selwyn was far, far older than his wife. To look at him, he was well past his centennial, but in truth he was only in his nineties. His posture was awful and he kept rigid at Rhea's side, tucked in thick wool robes despite it being late summer. For as weak as he appeared to be, he trained sharp, intelligent eyes on first Midgeon and then on her, studying them as she was studying him. She smiled shyly, a test, but his face remained entirely neutral.

"So you're Genevieve," Rhea remarked. It wasn't a question. Her gaze scanned Hermione from her bushy hair to her Transfigured trainers, and then back up to her dark skin. "Very distant relation, I assume."

"Yes ma'am," Hermione said, keeping her tone light and deferential even as her skin burned where Rhea scrutinized it. "My mother's mother was foreign."

"I see," said Rhea. "And just where are you from?"

"Lyon, ma'am," Hermione said. "At least, that's what the newspapers say." She glanced down at the ground, pretending to be properly cowed, and Rhea smiled.

"What do you think, my love?" the Selwyn matriarch asked, turning to Morfan. "We have no children yet."

"I have no objections," Morfan muttered.

Midgeon, who had been watching quietly through this exchange, pushed a piece of parchment forward. "So you agree to take her in, at least temporarily? You'll receive a stipend from the Ministry, naturally, if you do."

Rhea grabbed the quill he held out to her and scribbled her name on the line, then handed it to her husband. He didn't sign right away, instead taking a few moments to read through it. "You really want her off your hands, don't you?" he said to himself, and signed.

Hermione felt energy trickle through her veins like wet sand and then it was over.

"I'd hoped she would look more native," Rhea said. "I don't believe she's changed at all."

That's not always how it works, she wanted to say. This isn't a magical adoption, but a ward agreement. Like foster care. But she said nothing.

Rhea opened her mouth to speak more, and while she chattered away to Midgeon Morfan jerked his head for Hermione to stand. She obeyed without delay.

We'll speak more at home, his eyes said. Hermione nodded back, just a tiny shake so as to not attract Rhea's attention.

Midgeon said his goodbyes and dismissed them all with the reminder that he had paperwork to fill out, and Rhea placed one hand on Hermione's shoulder and propelled her forward. It was all Hermione could do not to throw herself across the room. She could not abide touch. Could not. She shrugged out of Rhea's grasp and sent her an apologetic smile, walking forward on her own down to the lift.

Hermione kept to the other side of Morfan, away from her new matriarch's tendency to be grabby. They stood in the lift in silence, listening to the cool female voice announcing the floors as they passed them. When the lift doors opened again, Rhea swept out into the Atrium and with single-minded purpose toward the Floo. Most employees had already arrived and so they didn't have to wait long. They all crammed into the fireplace and Rhea threw down the green powder from a pouch at her side.

"Selwyn Estate!" Rhea cried, and they were off.

Hermione hated the Floo. Always had, probably always would. She did her best to streamline her body to avoid unnecessary bumps, but she scraped her elbows more than once and she knew from experience that her hair was collecting massive amounts of soot. She didn't dare open her eyes.

It was only a few seconds before they were spat out into the fireplace at the Selwyn home. Rhea twitched her skirt and stepped out as flawless as before, and Morfan didn't appear to have been dirtied in the slightest. Hermione hovered in the hearth, her face burning.

"I wouldn't want to ruin your rug," she explained, beating at her own plain robes. Entire mountains of soot and ash fell to the floor of the fireplace. Her hair was a lost cause; it would take several washes to get it clean again.

"Vici!" Rhea snapped, and a house elf appeared.

This house elf wore a clean green tea towel, and her- Hermione wasn't sure how she knew, but it was definitely a her- ears stood straight up like a fox's. Together they were bigger than her shriveled head. "Right away, Mistress," she said, prim as could be, and snapped her fingers. Hermione felt her curls stretch down to their full length and shiver, shaking the dirt off. It didn't hurt, exactly, but she was hyper-aware of the roots of her hair, as if she'd tried to part it somewhere new.

Vici disappeared as suddenly as she'd come, and Hermione put a hand up to her hair. Her hair was no longer curly, but straight as straw. An irrational anger made her feel light and tall, but she reined it back. "I was fond of the way it was," she said evenly.

"What, filthy?" Rhea snorted, and spun around and left.

Hermione stared after her, furious and impotent, until Morfan coughed.

"I'll show you to your room," he grumbled.

Hermione was not oblivious to the kindness displayed in his offer. Clearly they had at least one house elf, and she'd known many pureblood families. Especially with his age, to offer to escort her was indicative of his concern.

"Thank you, sir," she said, awkwardly putting her hand through his offered elbow. She supported him even as he escorted her, shouldering his meagre weight on her left side.

They turned nine times. Nine! Hermione was quite sure they were deep within the manor, and it would take her weeks to find her way through these hallways. At last Morfan stopped in front of a door identical to all the others in a hallways that was just the same as each one they'd passed. With a quick glance at Morfan, Hermione reached out one hand and pushed down on the curved handle.

Her bedroom was a storm of soft pastel colors. The carpet was baby blue, plush, and thick. Hermione stepped out of her trainers and sank her sock-clad feet in the ocean of soft fibers, observing as it hugged the side of her feet. It was magical, she realized, and the carpet stroked her toes, confirming her thought. Each wall was a gradient of purple to pink, with twinkling stars on the dark ceiling.

It was a child's room, and she looked askance at Morfan.

"My wife has been expecting a son of her own," Morfan explained, expression just as impassive as before. "We have had the furniture enlarged to fit you."

The implications were unmistakable. Had they given up on birthing a child, and instead planned to adopt one? Hermione couldn't imagine any other reason such a well-loved room would be given to her. "How long has it been this way?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"Six years," said Morfan. Hermione blinked, startled. Morfan shuffled away, wobbling just a bit. "I'll leave you to explore on your own."

You do that, Hermione thought, but said nothing. She was already moving forward to feel the walls. They were perfectly smooth to her touch but gave way to even a gentle push. The walls were almost as soft as the floor. Without noticing, tears came to her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. She could feel the sorrow pooling in this room. She could feel the presence of a child who had never existed at all. She could feel the sustained hope.

Hermione went to the bed and curled up on top of the covers, and immediately, inexplicably, she was asleep.

#tybt #harry potter fanfiction #multi-chapter

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