Work Text:
“Morgana’s gone to Avalon.”
Percival’s heart stopped at the words. Arthur. Merlin is taking Arthur to Avalon. But he couldn’t leave Gwaine, not now. Not with Gwaine believing he’d failed.
He hesitated, frozen in indecision.
“Go. Percy, please go,” Gwaine’s voice rasped. “You are the only one who knows where she’s going.”
“C’mon, Gwaine,” he said, trying to smile through his tears. “You know, too. We’ll go together, just like always.”
Gwaine fisted his hand weakly in Percy’s chainmail. “Not this time, my friend.” There was more than physical pain in his dark eyes; more than the surety of death. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I’ve failed Arthur twice.”
“You couldn’t have known about Eira, Gwaine. There’s no way you could have known. She had us all fooled.” Percy rested his forehead against Gwaine’s and thought about the woman who tried to bring down the kingdom and whose duplicity did succeed in destroying Gwaine.
“But you weren’t the one fucking her. I thought... Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought now, does it?” Gwaine’s smile was a shadow of his normal cheeky, irreverent smile. “Please, Percy. Go. There’s nothing more you can do for me but you can still help Arthur. Please, for me.”
Percival closed his eyes. He knew. He knew this was the end for one of his oldest friends. He knew this was goodbye. He cradled Gwaine close one last time before gently laying him on the forest floor.
“It has been an honour, Sir Gwaine.” He choked on the words but his hand was steady as he grasped Gwaine’s forearm.
“The honour has been mine.” Tears glimmered in Gwaine’s lashes but he smiled one last time. As Percival watched, the light faded from Gwaine’s eyes.
He spared another moment to grieve, closing Gwaine’s eyes and praying to whatever gods would listen his friend would find peace in Avalon.
It hurt to leave him, unlauded and alone, but Gwaine was right, he still had a slim chance to stop Morgana.
He rode hard, pushing his horse past the point of exhaustion, but somehow the beast knew his mission and never slowed.
He passed Morgana’s body, lying next to the still-smoking fire of an empty camp. The scene was grim. Percy found the scattered horses and Merlin’s abandoned pack and somehow knew he was too late to save Arthur but he pressed on.
He arrived at the water’s edge in time to see Merlin fall to his knees as a boat drifted out of sight into the mists.
“Merlin?”
“He’s gone, Sir Percival. The King is dead.” Merlin choked out a wet laugh and said thickly, “Long live the King.”
Percival looked for his king’s body, for Arthur. “Where is he, Merlin? What have you done with him?”
“I’ve sent him to Avalon. To rest. To wait.”
“But where is he?”
“He is in Avalon.” Merlin said simply.
“But what of our Queen, Merlin? What of Guinevere? Doesn’t she deserve the chance to say goodbye?”
Merlin finally rose from his knees and turned to face Percival. “The Once and Future King has returned to Avalon to rest. He shall return in Albion’s time of need.”
His eyes were wrong. They were burnished a rich gold rather than his normal deep blue. Percival took a step back in fear.
“Merlin?” he asked, hand grasping the hilt of his sword.
Merlin blinked and the unnatural gold faded back to blue. “Percy?” he said softly, confused, before he collapsed in the water.
Percival sat quietly, thinking about everything that had happened in the last few years; the friends he’d made and lost, starting with Lancelot and now Gwaine. His mind shied from thinking too closely about Gwaine, the loss too fresh and the pain too great. He thought distantly about leaving, leaving Camelot, leaving his knighthood, and starting over somewhere far away from the memories. A soft groan roused him from his musing. He looked over to where he’d laid Merlin next to the small fire but sat unmoving.
Merlin sat up slowly, his body hunched and defeated. Silence enveloped them again until Merlin’s soft voice broke. “I did everything I could.”
“You always do, Merlin.” Percy stirred the fire with the point of his sword. “No one ever doubted that, especially not...” He trailed off, unable to say the name of the king they loved so dearly.
Merlin smiled sadly. “He doubted me for a bit, there at the end.” He ran his hand through his hair and clutched the back of his neck.
“Arthur would never doubt you. How could he? Your loyalty to him. It’s so obvious.”
“I am a sorcerer, Percy. I am a sorcerer and I have magic. I am magic. And yet with all this power, with all that I am, I could not save him.” Merlin folded in on himself, resting his forehead on his upraised knees.
Percy sat, stunned, staring at Merlin as the last six years rearranged and clicked into place. “It was you. All those times. All those times when hope was lost but somehow... It was always you, wasn’t it?” Wonder filled his voice as he looked at his gangly, fragile friend.
Merlin looked up with tears in his eyes. “No,” he said firmly, “it was always Arthur. Arthur has always been destined to unite Albion and I…” his voice cracked. “I have always been destined to serve him. Always will serve him.”
Silence reigned again, broken only by the fire popping.
Eventually, Percy lay down on his bedroll. “We should get an early start in the morning. We have to stop at Fermin to…” he closed his eyes, “to get Gwaine before returning to Camelot.”
Merlin stiffened at Gwaine’s name and looked searchingly at him. “He’s...”
“Yeah.” Percy’s voice was hoarse and strangled. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Morgana. She…”
“She is no more.”
Percy felt his cheeks quirk in a stilted smile. “Yeah. I found her. Did Arthur…?”
Merlin’s shoulders sagged. “No,” he said quietly, “not Arthur.”
Merlin closed his eyes and swallowed hard. When he opened his eyes, his face was set in determination. “I won’t be returning to Camelot. I can’t.”
Percy stiffened but did not sit up. “Why?”
Merlin gave a soft, wet laugh. “There is nothing there for me anymore.”
“But... everyone’s there! Your family, your friends. Camelot is your home, Merlin!”
Merlin sighed and said softly, “Arthur is my home.”
He had no response. He couldn’t argue with the conviction in Merlin’s voice. He swallowed, heart breaking again for himself, his friends, his home. “You will be missed, my friend.”
“As will you,” came the quiet reply.
Percival listened until exhaustion finally overtook him but Merlin never lay down.
When he awoke, for a moment, for one glorious moment, he forgot. He forgot the battle. He forgot Gwaine. Arthur. Merlin. For one too short moment, he was on a hunting trip with the lads and everything was how it should be.
Then he opened his eyes.
The glare from lake waters blinded him momentarily but when his eyes adjusted he saw the camp cleared, a bowl of porridge next to his bedroll and his horse packed. In the brief time it took to spot Merlin sitting on the shore, he panicked, fearing he’d lost another friend during the night.
He hurried through his morning ablutions and walked to stand by Merlin’s side.
“You should be able to make it to Gwaine’s body and back to Camelot today.” Merlin said without turning from the water.
“Today? What? How? Merlin, that’s at least a two day ride,” he said, incredulous.
Merlin gave a half smile and shrugged. “Magic.” He climbed to his feet, his smile fading.
“Tell the Queen.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Tell Gwen Arthur loved her. Tell her he knew he was d-dying and chose her as his successor. Tell her. Tell her I...” His voice broke and he wept. “Tell her I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Percy slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders and drew him into a hug. “I stand by what I said last night. Magic or no, no one will ever doubt you did all you could for Arthur. No one.”
Merlin clung to him tightly. When he pulled away, he kissed Percy’s forehead in benediction and whispered a foreign word as his eyes swirled with gold. “Take care, Percy.”
Percy felt the warm weight of Merlin’s magic surround him and he shuddered as he swallowed a sob. “Safe travels, Merlin.”