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Iridean Dreams.
The Final Chapter.
Camlann lay silent, after all that was said and done. Bodies lay strewn about like leaves in autumn, as though life itself were turning to winter. It was not what Mordred had envisioned. He sat, breathing slowly, feeling his strength beginning to fade. His vision cleared momentarily as he watched a figure walk out of the fog which had suddenly surrounded the battlefield, hiding the worst of the horrors that bloodied the earth around them. A soft smile came to his wan face as he greeted the man who nodded at him in calm recognition.
“I never thought it would end like this. I can’t say I’m surprised though. I never was one for half measures, was I?” Mordred looked down and pursed his lips as he stared at the gaping wound in his armour, and nodded at it.
“Don’t tell Morgana?” Merlin gave him a gentle smile and knelt beside him, touching his armour and laying a hand on his shoulder.
“I can’t help with the pain, Mordred. I’m sorry, my friend. The wound… Morgana already knows.” Pain crossed Mordred’s features then, but a different kind, and his eyes glistened as he laid his head back, nodding slowly, in time to his fading heartbeat.
“Then all the world hates me.”
“She loves you regardless of what you’ve done or might have done. She always has.” The young druid coughed and they both heard the burble of blood in his breath.
“And you, Merlin?”
“I don’t matter, Mordred.” He coughed again and swallowed thickly. Merlin reached forward with a skin filled with cool, soft water, and Mordred swallowed what he could.
“Merlin, if there is one in this whole world that does matter, Merlin, it’s you. I… Perhaps I should have answered your call. Maybe things would have been different then.” Merlin shrugged softly and kindly steadied the boy.
“Maybe you couldn’t have, kin. Maybe this was the way it was always supposed to be, whether you wanted to or not. You’ve played the hand that fate has dealt you now. At least, you can rest.” He held up a crystal from his palm and Mordred smiled weakly as he felt himself drifting.
“Thank you, Merlin…”
The sorcerer held up the crystal and the dying sun filtered into it, shining on Mordred’s still features. There was a sudden flash, and then Mordred was gone, sleeping within the crystal. Merlin pocketed the jewel and picked up his staff and the wine skin, taking out another crystal, his last for this trip. He moved across the wine red earth towards a figure bathed in the sun, watching his approach. Through the strewn knights, Merlin stepped, unhurried as Arthur watched. The royal smiled at him through the mist and held his side, grinning lopsidedly and with a flash of the old, young Arthur that had teased Merlin as a youth. The grinned at one another and then shared a soft laugh, though Arthur hissed in pain and grabbed at his side. Merlin could see the ebbing gush of blood staining his shining silver armour a bright, rose red. Merlin sank down beside his friend and they clasped forearms. Arthur leant forwards despite the pain and brought Merlin’s head down to his own, touching foreheads and smiling.
“I don’t have long, Merlin.” The sorcerer wiped a tear from his eyes and looked up at the sun, then back at his long parted friend.
“We have time. Time enough,” he corrected, pulling the clear white crystal from his pouch. Arthur breathed heavy and tried to push his eyelid up as they threatened to close on him.
“I dreamed, waiting to pass on. I dreamt about your little forest kingdom. You made what I failed, Merlin. A kingdom for your people. I failed you. You were right. You were a better king than me, Merlin…”
“No, Arthur,” he corrected, the tears coming thick down his sharp cheekbones, trailing down to his chin. “There is no better king than you. I always knew that. It has been the greatest honour of my life, however long I may live it. Not to have served you, your dream, your house or your crown.” He swallowed and breathed heavily, trying to keep his chest from caving as it threatened to. He found it hard to breathe as he comforted his fallen king. “My greatest honour has always been to have been your friend.”
Arthur sobbed and nodded, staring at him with that smile that told Merlin he’d rather not leave but would live a life in that friendship. After a moment, he gasped again, and clenched his teeth, a fresh gush of blood cascading through the rent in his armour. His grip on Merlin’s arm tightened and then the pain was gone again, and he gasped heavy, his body shrinking in on itself. Arthur struggled to stay away, and Merlin readied the crystal in his palm.
“Morgana?” Merlin nodded and clicked his wedding ring on the crystal for a moment.
“Waiting and keeping the raft that will carry us back to Avalon.”
“Avalon?”
“Yes, Arthur. Where you’ll rest and sleep until you’re ready to return.”
“I’m not going to die?” Merlin grinned then and looked earnestly at his friend, who was trying to bring about a brave face.
“You’re such a drama queen, Arthur.” The king’s lips quirked and he smiled fully then, but there was pain in his eyes as the memory of their friendship gripped him again.
“Girl.” Merlin scoffed and held up his hand, showing Arthur the ring.
“Easy, King Clotpole. Curb your supercilious pratty nature against your brother in law.”
“Can we just keep it as a half brother in law? That would be better…” He trailed off and his chest jerked. His face turned grey and Merlin reached out a hand, pushing some of his own strength back into Arthur for a moment, no matter the taxing effect. It wouldn’t have worked without the bond they shared, but it barely worked at that, Merlin noted. Arthur’s time was not far.
“Is she well, Merlin?”
“She missed you.”
“Does she… can she… forgive me?” Merlin smiled and shrugged casually, sitting beside Arthur and propping him up beside him. Arthur rested his head against Merlin’s shoulder.
“She’s mellowed. I think she’s already forgiven you. She’s to name our child Arthur, though if it’s a girl, we’ve agreed on Morgause. I’m sure I don’t need to point out how far she’s changed to mark that.”
“A boy child? I’m an uncle?” There was a surprised pride in his voice.
“Not yet. She’s still carrying. You’d be surprised how fast she can shift from waspishly hateful to blissfully serene over the course of dessert.” Arthur laughed softly and nodded conspiratorially.
“Only dessert?”
“Always dessert. Generally when she’s eaten both our servings.” They shared a moment of quiet laughter, and then Arthur sighed, his breathing low and laboured.
“Oh, Merlin. I’m sorry, my friend.” Merlin patted his shoulder.
“Perhaps next time, things will be different. Who knows? Perhaps they won’t. Wither way, we’ve a friendship that will not break, Arthur.”
“No, Merlin,” insisted Arthur, pushing himself up and holding Merlin tightly to him. “Now that it’s over, I’m sorry about everything. I’ve been a failure, as a king, but more importantly, as your friend. I can’t help but think of everything I’d do differently.” Merlin nodded slowly.
“Then remember it. And next time, do it differently.” Arthur raised his hand and clasped Merlin’s tighter. He still had enough strength in his grip to rise the fire in his eyes as he stared at Merlin.
“I never thanked you for everything you did.”
“I didn’t do it for the thanks, Arthur.”
“Which is why you deserve it so much more, Merlin.” They stayed like that and then Arthur nodded. “I’m ready.” Merlin helped him to his feet, ducking under his arm and supporting his weight. Arthur kept Excalibur by him, using the legendary weapon as a cane to help him along on his good side. They crossed the battlefield and moved down to the lake. A mystical fog began to form as they got closer to the shore, and Arthur grunted, his face covered in sweat as he shook.
“I’ve no coin for the boatmen, Merlin. Might I borrow a bit of gold? You know I’m good for it.” Merlin didn’t laugh, but his smile brought back memories of yesteryear to Arthur.
“Perhaps you’ll get mate’s rates, Arthur.” The boat materialized out of the fog, and the beautiful and very visibly pregnant Morgana smiled affectionately at her brother, dressed warmly in thick silk robes, holding a glowing staff as she guided the craft to the shore and it slid up the beach. Arthur’s wondrous smile took her and her belly in and his face lit up. She gave a soft laugh, though her eyes looked pained. He kept his smile even as he lost the strength of his legs and sagged against Merlin. The two sorcerers whispered together and Arthur was lifted up onto the raft on a cushion of air. He looked about him, bemused.
“It’s really quite useful, isn’t it?” He gave a low laugh, which turned into a racking cough, blood gushing up over hips lips in a gruesome show. Morgana knelt beside him and blotted his lips clean with her sleeve. Arthur sagged into a restless unconsciousness for a moment as the raft gently moved out onto the water. The fog of Avalon sprang up around them, and when the cold mist touched his cheeks, the dying king surged back up to a sitting position.
“Gwen!” he called, then collapsed back into Morgana’s lap with a choked sob of pain, clutching his side.
“She’s still alive, Arthur,” Merlin whispered, pushing strength towards him again, though Arthur’s body and will could not hold the strength for long, and it eased back to Merlin. “It’s not her time yet. Leon, Percival, they’re still a part of the world with Gwen. They’re not ready to join us yet, but they will be one day. I’ll make sure they’re here for you when you awake again.” He nodded his thanks and then looked to Morgana, who held back a tearful smile and her eyes, shining bright, caught his clear blue. Her hand reached around behind his head and her fingers interlaced with Merlins, taking strength from the touch. For a moment, they locked eyes, sharing the pain. Arthur smiled at the two of them then reached for Morgana’s hand with his good side.
“I’m… I love you, sister.” He patted her hand and leant in towards her as she smiled at him, a bright shining smile that conveyed more than any words, though she said them anyway, glad to offer the peace to her dying kin.
“And I, you, brother.” Merlin stood, gently pushing Arthur into Morgana’s arms and taking Excalibur from him. He held it aloft in the dying sun though the mist, and a flash of memory caught at the edge of his awareness, or a flickering vision of a possibility, a future avoided. Morgana, dying, Gwaine too. The deaths of all their friends and family. Not in peace, but in war and destruction. Merlin swayed and the vision was gone. As was the future. He smiled back at his wife and mouthed that he loved her. The raft stilled and he kissed the hilt.
“Freya, Lady of the Lake. I bid you hold this in trust, until Avalon is again of Albion, and Albion again of the world. The Once and Future King holds fealty to you, and I beg that you hold to him and his oath of this sword. The sword of Arthur, dragonforged and blessed.” He threw the sword and a white light shone deep in the fog, until a hand emerged from the water and caught it, blade first, the crosspiece glinting in the last rays of the sun. The hand tilted the sword in recognition, then dipped soundlessly back into the water and was gone without a ripple. The fog parted as the raft began to move of it’s own accord, and Merlin sat back down with a sigh. The raft moved along slowly, and they held hands, Merlin and Morgana each holding one of Arthur’s hands and linking their own over his chest as the raft moved closer to the beach. Figures waited along the shoreline as Merlin and Morgana again lifted Arthur’s form onto the beach at Avalon, and then the mists closed.
* * * * *
Merlin and Morgana held hands and he held her as she received the crystal containing Mordred. She wiped her tears away onto the crystal and kissed it, then held her hands out.
“Sleep well, Mordred. Rise again.” Her hands glowed and the crystal dematerialised, disappearing into the tomb below them, along with all the rest of Arthur’s knights, waiting for the day when Arthur would waken again. Merlin held Morgana as she wept, then kissed the top of her head and brought her hand up to his lips, kissing their wedding ring and the inside of her palm. She smiled at him and sat, rubbing her belly as they quietly rested and contemplated.
“It’s nearly over, isn’t it?” He nodded to her words, then shrugged as he again kissed her, loving her simply with all that he was.
“There are few others, still. And then, we’ll sleep as they. Until then, we have each other. And whoever comes along to join us.” He smiled down and then kissed her belly, putting his head to her and listening. Morgana touched at his hair tenderly and gave a soft coo as the baby kicked.
“Then I’m happy.” He leant back up and smiled at her, still awed at her. She shook her head at his awe and kissed him soundly, softly touching his face and cradling his chin as their lips moved together. Merlin grinned suddenly and his entire face changed from it’s solemn appearance to one of boyish joy.
“Then I’m happy. I love you, Morgana.” Unable to resist, she pushed against him, biting her lip to stop her smile.
“You’d better, I’m the best thing to ever happen to you.” She teased, but he nodded earnestly and kissed at her hands again.
“Yes,” he admitted, suddenly dead serious. “Yes, you are. My wildest Iridean dreams have come true, with you.” Morgana breathed deeply and her eyes glistened as she kissed him.
“I love you too, Merlin.”
* * * * *
Epilogue
In time, their own time as was just, Avalon came to hold the rest of the fallen knights of Camelot, and her Queen as her rule came to a peaceful end. Morgana , Merlin and their sons and daughters watched over them within, guarding them with the magic of the very stones of Avalon, all the while waiting and watching for the time of return; their love strong and true.
The Tombs of Avalon became the vault of souls for all those who loved Camelot and swore their lives and hearts to its cause.
Guinevere, Gaius, Leon, Percival, Elyan and Gwaine all came with Merlin upon their time, and all lay below the guarded vaults, including when ready, both Morgana and Merlin, holding hands as they slept in a crystal bed below Arthur’s, sleeping away the centuries until the king’s prophesied return.
Arthur Pendragon was laid within a bed of crystal stone, given room for his Queen Guinevere aside him in sleep.
Upon the stone slab under which he rested was inscribed “Hic iacet Arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus.”
“Here lies Arthur, King Once, And King to Be.”
The End.