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As if on instinct, Arthur found himself scrambling backwards, desperate to put distance between himself and this imposter. Some sort of plea bubbled up and then died in his throat that no, not him. Please, gods, anyone but him. He could feel his mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out, just distressed, ragged breaths. Shock flew through him; they had killed the creature, Arthur had seen it happen right in front of him, so how…?
Just as quickly as he had propelled himself backwards, Iseldir had grabbed Merlin by the hair and slammed his head back to the ground with a sickening thud, knocking him momentarily unconscious again. Iseldir stood over his body, a foot on either side of his torso, taking uneven breaths. Arthur was torn between feeling sickeningly glad to see Merlin’s eyes slide shut, and outrage at someone manhandling him like that.
He wiped at the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, trying to get a grip on the tidepool of emotions surging around inside of him.
This was something right out of Arthur’s nightmares.
Not Merlin. Out of all people, not him...
The air was eerily still, tense, waiting.
All eyes were on Merlin’s body, anticipating movement.
Arthur flicked his eyes up to meet Iseldir, and he could tell by the set of his jaw and worry in his grimace that they wanted to ask the same question: What do we do now?
There was a flicker of uncertainty in Iseldir’s eyes, a moment's hesitation before he began. “Let’s tie him up, Your Highness. I’ll hold a magic barrier around him after that. I… I cannot promise I am strong enough to hold him off if he wakes, but it’ll give my people enough time to figure out how to get it out of him.” Iseldir spoke with a quiet confidence that Arthur did not have- could not even pretend he had right now. He was, for once, grateful for someone else stepping into his role. He was rattled, too rattled to be making rational decisions.
The druids had begun to form a small circle around the trio, creeping forward every breath that Merlin still laid still. A mixture of fear and concern colored their features, mothers clutching their children, and there were a few older women whose faces were set with grim determination, and at once Arthur saw them for what they were: people who had seen blood and battle before, and were not going to let it happen again. He wished he had any sort of comfort to give them, but any words he could have spared were held captive by the lump in his throat.
He crawled towards Merlin, painfully aware of how childish he looked on his hands and knees, but all of his ego had fled in the sheer horror of the current situation. He cupped Merlin’s face in his hands, cradling his own heart in the process- because that’s what Merlin was- his entire heart, all his love. Arthur was nothing without Merlin by his side.
To his surprise, anger struck him, then. He would not let this creature take Merlin away from him. The room seemed to darken in response, the light filtering in through the stained glass coming in stained.
“Your Highness,” Iseldir spoke softly, breaking Arthur out of his trance, “he could wake at any moment.”
Arthur nodded forcefully, and let go of Merlin, despite his entire body screaming at him to hover over Merlin, to protect him, to pull this horrid being right out of him with his own two hands. He leaned back on his haunches, still close enough to provide help, but far enough that Iseldir could… do what needed to be done.
Iseldir rolled Merlin over onto his stomach, pulling his arms behind his back, muttering under his breath with a hand held at Merlin’s wrists. When that was done, as Arthur presumed it was, he stepped away from them and held out both hands wide, like he was pushing someone away in the air, chanting in a language Arthur didn’t understand. A gold shimmering bubble had begun to form around Merlin’s body-
“He’s awake!” A woman shrieked beside him, pointing at Merlin’s face.
Arthur’s gaze immediately snapped to Merlin’s face and oh gods, Arthur was going to be sick.
Black eyes stared back at him, a lopsided smile beginning to form on Merlin’s face. The look was sinister, and Arthur realized at once that he had never truly been afraid of Merlin like he was now. He hated it. He knew, of course, somewhere in the recesses of his mind that this was not Merlin, but seeing the evil seep through him made the hair of Arthur's neck stand, alarm bells ringing in his brain. He trusted Merlin with his life, but this... was not Merlin.
The creature lifted its head off the floor, taking in its situation. The handcuffs, or whatever magical equivalent Iseldir had used, proved to be child’s play for it, snapping out of them with ease. It propped itself up on an elbow, looking between Iseldir and Arthur.
“Hello, Arthur,” the creature drawled, his voice strained, like he had been screaming. The words were clumsy, like it wasn’t used to having a mouth. “How nice of you to stick around.”
In the moments that followed, the crowd dispersed frantically, desperate to get away from their own imminent deaths. Their reaction wasn’t promising, Arthur thought, as they were likely the only ones able to help Merlin. Part of Arthur wanted to run with them, but he was frozen in place, not even an arm’s length away from the monster. He had always joked that Merlin was going to be the death of him, but he never meant it like this.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin reach a hand out, his dagger flying to reach it.
Arthur was going to die.
At the thought, something in Arthur jolted, kickstarting him into motion. He lunged backwards, yanking his sword in front of him. Iseldir’s eyes flashed behind Merlin, heaving his arm out in front of him, but Merlin simply flicked his wrist in response, sending the man flying without even glancing behind him. Iseldir hit the wall with a thump, slumping unconscious against the stain glass panels. Fear crept its way into Arthur's gut at the sheer display of power, and he had to wonder if this was all Merlin’s magic it was using.
Arthur blanched in fear and anger, a war raging inside of him. Would he even be able to tear Merlin down to save his kingdom? Would he be able to live with himself if he did?
His duty interjected, reminding him that his life’s purpose was to guard his kingdom with his life- he could pick up the pieces of his heart afterwards, put them back together without any room for Merlin, glue together all the holes that this love would leave behind.
He knew he didn’t stand a chance fighting this thing physically, that he could end up laying next to Iseldir without even landing a single blow on Merlin, so he had to try something else. Think, Arthur. He had to try reaching Merlin inside, if he was still in there. There was no other way he would get out of this alive.
“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice cracked as he spoke, love and anguish lacing the edges, “I know you’re still in there. I need you to fight for me, please.” They circled around each other, a few feet apart, watching each other’s every step. “Help me.”
Merlin’s eyebrows came together in mock pity, his bottom lip pushing out in a pout. “Wishful thinking, Sire.” Merlin cocked his head, his features relaxing into laughter.
Arthur was going to kill this thing if it was the last thing he did.
“Please, Merlin, I don’t want to fight you.” He held his sword at the ready, but he knew he wouldn’t make the first move. He couldn’t imagine being the one to draw Merlin’s blood.
He didn’t have to decide though, as Merlin closed the gap between them with the dagger, stabbing wildly at his face. Arthur ducked, all those years of training forcing him to evade. Instinctually, he brought his sword up to slash at Merlin’s mid, but Merlin caught it in his hand, the blade sinking into the flesh of Merlin’s palm. Arthur winced, wanting nothing more than to scold Merlin for grabbing a moving blade, but the pain didn’t seem to bother him.
Then something shifted. Merlin’s body convulsed, his spine arching like he had been struck by lightning, and a whimper writhed its way out of his mouth.
“No- you cannot-” Merlin started, and pushed Arthur’s blade away, blood dripping onto the floor between them. “You’ll hate yourself if you do this.”
A flash of blue caught Arthur’s eye- Merlin’s eyes had shifted back for just a second and he could see the panic in Merlin, see him trying to fight.
“Merlin!” Hope bloomed in Arthur’s chest, but he tamped it down, not letting himself feel triumphant until this was all over. Hope was always a wound in the making. But Merlin was still in there, still determined, and that was all Arthur needed to keep going. He took a few steps back, out of range of any attacks.
“Get out- stop this- no,” Merlin shrieked, “you cannot hurt him!”
Merlin’s body shuddered, as if at war with itself, wrenching right and left, and Merlin clawed at his own chest, leaving blood stains on his shirt. His eyes danced between black, blue, and gold, and he went in between screeching and muttering under his breath. Arthur stood at the ready, terrified by what he was watching. He didn’t know what to do to help him.
Finally, Merlin came to stand in front of Arthur, clear blue eyes staring at him.
“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, and dug his dagger right into his own sternum, angling upwards to pierce the heart.
“No!” Arthur lurched forwards to catch Merlin’s falling body, grunting when Merlin’s head came crashing down onto his collarbone. They fell together to the ground, Arthur catching the back of Merlin’s head before it cracked on the stone floor. He shifted back from where he was straddling him to rest at his side, legs angled awkwardly so he could lean over Merlin’s form.
“No, no, Merlin, don’t you fucking dare, don’t be such an idiot,” he mumbled incoherently, a string of curses leaving his mouth as if they were a prayer. He raised his head to cry out for help and found that every single one of the druids had fled, leaving Merlin, Arthur, and Iseldir alone.
Blood seeped through Merlin’s clothes, creating a blooming flower that covered most of his torso. Arthur tried not to stare at the dagger that stuck out of him, so out of place on such a beautiful man. He tore Merlin’s shirt open to get a better look at the wound, gathering the tattered pieces to press down where he could. He needed to stop the blood.
“Listen to me, you idiot, I’m going to save your life, and then we’re going to talk about your battle strategies,” he joked weakly, ripping a piece of fabric from his own shirt and adding it to Merlin’s chest.
Merlin’s body began to shake once more, in short violent bursts, head craned back with his mouth wide open, shouting in a silent scream. Arthur simply held him, fingers weaving into the back of his hair again, holding his head above the ground. Despair tore away at him, creeping into every single fiber of his being, and it wasn’t until hot droplets hit Merlin’s cheeks that he realized he was crying. He sat up and pulled Merlin’s trembling body halfway onto his lap, so that Merlin’s head was resting on Arthur’s thighs, and carded his fingers through Merlin’s hair, not minding the sticky blood that coated his fingers. Gods, he was losing so much blood.
Merlin was making guttural noises, soft but intense grunts, and Arthur couldn’t tell if it was from the dagger sticking out of his chest or from the creature inside. Black mist filtered out of Merlin’s mouth, and his body went still.
Then everything exploded.
Darkness shot out of Merlin like shards of glass shattering after a fall, black, sharp edges splintering in the air. The creature screamed, a high pitched wail that had Arthur covering his ears with his hands, and Arthur watched, horrified, as the black mist seeped out of all of Merlin at once, his entire body lost in the dense haze, until Arthur couldn’t see him anymore, blinded by the shards in the air and the fog below him.
Minutes dragged by, the screeching only seeming to get louder and louder, and Arthur found himself crouched over on the ground in fetal position, forehead pressed against Merlin’s shoulder, focusing on keeping his ears covered and eyes shut.
And then it was gone.
Arthur took a few deep breaths to get himself under control, then scrambled up over Merlin’s still form, pulling back his eyelids to reveal bright blue. That, at least, was comforting.
Arthur pressed two fingers to Merlin’s neck for a pulse and, finding none, grabbed his wrist and tried again.
Nothing.
He cradled Merlin’s face, using his thumb to brush against Merlin’s lower lip, lowering his face to press small kisses all over his face. “Please, Merlin, please come back,” he whispered, taking a shaky breath in. “Not you, too, I can’t lose you. Please, gods, goddesses, whatever and wherever you are, bring him back, I- I love him.”
But there was no answer from above, no voices from the shadows. Just Arthur and Merlin.
“Please,” he keened.
They sat like that for a spell, Arthur pressing his face into Merlin’s neck, holding him close like he never had the courage to in life. There were still so many things he wanted to tell him, so many places to see and things to do. They couldn’t end like this. Arthur turned and pressed his face into Merlin dark curls, breathing him in one last time.
This, by far, was the most painful thing he had ever endured.
Arthur eventually rose, pushing back Merlin’s hair, smoothing it down. He couldn’t remember ever being so gentle with him. This, he regrets. Merlin had deserved better than Arthur ever gave him.
He takes notice of the curve of his jaw, the soft dent in his lower lip, the rise and fall of those ridiculous ears, the unruly eyebrows, the long eyelashes- his eyelids.
Arthur inhaled sharply and softly pulled back one eyelid.
Merlin's eyes were glowing gold.