Chapter Text
Merlin’s heart was pounding. He wouldn’t get there in time. Houses and street signs seemed to melt into nothingness as he hurled his body forward, each step slower than the last. He was running through molasses. He couldn’t breathe.
Something was blocking his path, but he couldn’t see. Darkness crept over him, clouding his vision. Though he could not see the obstacles before him, he flung his magic out in all directions in a desperate attempt to clear the way.
“No!” he shouted into the void, and he kept running, running.
Finally one object shone through the darkness. He couldn’t focus, though. What was it? Something glowing on the shore of the lake.
His heart leapt.
Arthur.
He pushed his way through air that felt too thick on legs that wouldn’t cooperate. Why was he slowing down? Arthur knelt on the rocks just ahead. Merlin needed to get to him.
And then suddenly Merlin’s feet melted. His legs turned to jelly. He no longer had arms or a chest or a body at all. The light was fading. Arthur fell.
Noooo! He shouted, but no sound escaped his disappearing lips.
Darkness swirled around Arthur and his blood formed a hole beneath him into which he fell.
******
3:25 am.
Arthur blinked at the clock. That wasn’t too bad. He still felt drowsy, and he had only been awake for ten minutes. Surely he could still go back to sleep.
He thought about the things he wanted to accomplish the next day. He watched the shadows dancing on the wall. He listened to Merlin’s slow, deep breaths beside him.
And then he looked at the clock again. 3:48 am.
Ug. But there was still hope of falling back asleep. Arthur consciously focused on keeping his eyes shut, but his thoughts wandered, out of his control. He had gone for a run yesterday morning, and he noticed the soles of his shoes were wearing thin. He would have to buy some new trainers. He also needed to get to the gym for some strength training. Merlin was very quiet at dinner tonight. He should ask him tomorrow how work had been lately. Tomorrow was Arthur’s turn to make dinner. He thought about what he might prepare and his eyes flew open with a start. Had he put away the leftover chicken from dinner tonight? After a moment’s thought, he remembered that, yes, he had wrapped it in foil and put it into the fridge.
After another glance at the clock— 4:06 am— Arthur gave up on going back to sleep and reached for his mobile. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well browse the news sites. He unlocked the phone and, blinking hard, quickly lowered the brightness, letting his eyes adjust to the light from the tiny screen. It had taken Arthur many months to learn about new ways of life, new governments, new technologies and all the other changes that had occurred in the dozen or so centuries since he had died, but once he had, he thought he acclimated quite well.
He glanced over at Merlin, who might beg to differ. Arthur did recall quite a few exasperated sighs from his former manservant as Arthur complained about everything from the constant noise to the lack of hunting opportunities to how exposed he felt without his chainmail.
But really, Merlin had the chance to adjust slowly as the world evolved over centuries, where Arthur had woken from his sleep in Avalon to find that everything had changed, and he had to adjust to those changes all at once, in addition to trying to discover the reason for his return. So he felt completely justified in voicing a few complaints now and then. No matter how loudly Merlin might sigh.
Just then, Merlin grunted in his sleep.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve developed the ability to read minds.” Arthur murmured under his breath.
But then Merlin’s grunt became more of a whimper, so Arthur turned toward his boyfriend and placed a comforting hand on his back. Merlin’s body twitched, and he whimpered some more, so Arthur propped himself up on one elbow and started to rub gentle circles into Merlin’s skin.
“Merlin?” Arthur spoke quietly. “Merlin, wake up. I think you’re dreaming.”
Merlin’s arms and legs flailed, and he cried out, jerking awake.
“That must have been some dream!” Arthur smiled, easing Merlin’s shoulder toward him, so he could see his face.
“Arthur!” Merlin bolted upright and flung his arms around him, squeezing tight.
Arthur stroked his hair as he felt him trembling. “It’s okay. I’m right here,” he reassured Merlin in a soothing tone until he had calmed a bit. “What was that all about?”
Merlin took a deep shuddering breath and pulled away, shaking his head. “Um, nothing. It was just a dream, Arthur. Don’t worry about it.” He lay down, turning his back to Arthur.
This was the fifth time in the last two weeks that Merlin had bolted awake, obviously shaken, but refusing to tell Arthur what he had dreamed about. With a sigh, Arthur lay down, spooning himself behind Merlin and pressing a kiss into the back of his neck.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. Just my imagination running wild.” Merlin turned his head slightly to give Arthur a half-smile. “I’ve seen a lot in the last few centuries and not all of it was good, so there’s a lot of junk knocking around in this old head. Sometimes it just knocks around a little too much at night, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”
But despite his dismissal of the dream, Merlin pulled Arthur’s arms more tightly around him and snuggled close. Arthur kissed him again and reassured him, “I’m here, Merlin. Go back to sleep.”
Arthur had no doubt that Merlin had witnessed many horrors in his long life. But he also had no doubt that when he told Arthur his dreams were nothing to worry about, Merlin was lying.
******
Merlin was tired at work the next day, but he pushed through, knowing he had a dinner with old friends to look forward to that evening. And dinners with this particular pair of friends were always fun, even if the atmosphere was often filled with old tensions.
He had received quite a shock a few years ago when he was walking in town and nearly ran into Tristan and Isolde. They didn’t recognise him, but as they spoke, they each acknowledged feeling an instant connection with Merlin, so they agreed to join him for lunch. Merlin soon discovered that although they were not the same as he remembered, this new Tristan and Isolde shared many characteristics with their former selves. In this life, they were both big believers in reincarnation and they fully believed they had shared a close bond in a past life. They listened with great interest to Merlin’s stories of their brief time together in Camelot, but it wasn’t until Arthur returned that they started to remember specifics about their former life.
After work, Merlin hurried to the restaurant, knowing it could be dangerous for Arthur to be alone with Tristan for even a few minutes. They tended to enjoy arguing about even the most insignificant topics. Luckily, he arrived before Arthur, and it wasn’t until halfway through the meal that the conversation took a lively turn.
“No, no, Arthur, you have no idea.” Tristan slapped the table adamantly. “You might think you’re getting a workout at your gym, but unless you’ve had my Isolde train you, you might as well be sat in front of the telly lifting cheese puffs.”
“Hey!” Arthur huffed in protest. “My workouts are plenty strenuous. Don’t forget I used to train my men for battle, so I know what makes a good workout.”
“All due respect, Arthur,” Isolde said with a mirthless smile. “Times have changed a bit since you were king. I’m sure your training sessions were perfectly adequate.”
Arthur scoffed, clearly insulted by her choice of words. Merlin and Tristan exchanged an amused glance.
“But training for sword fights is a bit different from keeping fit in the modern world.”
Merlin could feel Arthur tensing beside him, so he decided it was time for a new topic of conversation. “Tristan, I saw one of your signs on the empty lot down by the old bridge. Is your company building something new there?”
As Tristan started talking excitedly about a new office complex the council was hoping would help start a rebirth in the old section of town, Arthur reached over and gave Merlin’s knee a gentle squeeze. It seemed he appreciated Merlin rescuing him from Isolde’s taunts. Soon Arthur and Tristan were deep in a discussion of the pros and cons of the government getting involved in city planning.
Merlin tried to follow their conversation, but he found his mind wandering back to his dream the previous night. It was the same dream that had haunted him since Arthur’s return, although the nightmares were occurring more frequently now than ever before.
Just after Arthur returned, Merlin had visited the Crystal Cave. He knew looking into the crystals for a glimpse of the future was dangerous— the visions that danced across the surface of the crystals were far too easy to misinterpret— but Merlin needed to know why Arthur had returned. Long ago, Kilgharrah had told Merlin that Arthur would rise again when Albion’s need was greatest. As thrilled as Merlin was to have his king back, he could not help worrying. What pressing need had brought Arthur out of his slumber? During his centuries of waiting, Merlin had lived through dreadful wars. He had seen the country he loved face terrors he could never have dreamt possible as a young man in Camelot. So why now? Merlin needed to know what horror they would be facing.
Unsurprisingly though, the crystals were no help. Peering into their sparkling surfaces, Merlin had focused his thoughts on Arthur as the once and future king, hoping his magic would draw out prophetic visions to help him guide the newly returned sovereign. It seemed, however, that for all of Merlin’s careful reasoning about discerning a plan for what they might face, his magic was guided only by his love for Arthur. As he looked into the crystals, Merlin did not see famine or war. He did not see Arthur rising through the political ranks to guide parliament or even the crown. He saw a sword plunging into Arthur’s heart. He saw himself cradling Arthur’s body, crying out in misery as Arthur’s blood stained the earth beneath them. And then Merlin saw himself wearing a dark suit, standing before a similarly dressed crowd, unable to speak as his lower lip quivered and tears streamed down his cheeks. He could only presume that last scene was Arthur’s funeral.
At first, Merlin hardly dared allow himself to grow closer to Arthur, knowing what was coming— knowing he would once again have to lose the man he loved— but Arthur pursued him, and eventually, Merlin could no longer hold back his feelings. He still refused to tell Arthur what he had seen, though. Somehow, as long as he did not speak the words aloud to Arthur, Merlin could continue his days denying what he had seen. Denying that any of those horrific scenes would come to pass.
His nights, however, were a different story. Ever since that day at the Crystal Cave, visions of Arthur’s death haunted Merlin’s dreams.
A barking laugh from Isolde pulled Merlin out of his reverie, and he smiled at his friends and decided to return his attention to enjoying the rest of the evening. As they finished their meal, Isolde and Arthur had a lively discussion, picking apart all the inconsistencies in a recent superhero film. Merlin laughed along with them, pleased they had finally found a subject on which they agreed.
After dinner as Merlin and Arthur walked Tristan and Isolde to their car, it seemed Arthur could not help bringing up their previous conversation to defend his workout regime.
“Tell you what, Isolde.” His eyes gleamed in a way that made Merlin nervous that he was about to bite off more than he could chew. “I still have my sword. Why don’t we meet sometime for a sparring match? If you beat me, I’ll come round your gym and you can put me through a few of your famous training sessions, but if I beat you, you have to take back what you said about me not being fit enough for the modern world and admit that I might know a thing or two about training myself.”
“Oh, you just name the time and place, Arthur Pendragon. I’ll be there,” Isolde said with a haughty smirk. “I’ll start prepping your training sessions tonight. I’ll go easy on you to start. I’ve seen how you royals tend to overindulge at the dinner table. Hell, I just witnessed it first-hand.”
The twinkle in Isolde’s eye and the lilt in her voice indicated she was teasing, however Arthur’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, so Merlin thought he’d better step in to keep things light.
“I don’t know. I think you’d be better off spending that time practising your sword skills. Arthur might surprise you at how well he’s kept up his sparring. And you should know, it is not possible to overestimate the edge he gets from his extreme competitive nature.”
With a quirk of his eyebrows, Merlin continued, “In addition, you actually have no idea what Arthur is hiding under all these layers.” He tugged gently at Arthur’s jumper. “I do, though, because I’ve seen him naked. Just this morning, in fact.” He bared his teeth with what he hoped was a seductive growl. “And my money’s on Arthur.”
His ploy to lighten the mood was successful, because at that moment, Tristan, Isolde and Arthur all burst out laughing. Tristan covered his eyes dramatically with the back of his arm.
“Aah! Isolde, take me home. Nothing… nothing will ever remove from my brain the image of Merlin prowling like a cat over Arthur’s naked body.”
They said their goodbyes, and Merlin and Arthur started walking toward their house.
“You feel up for an evening stroll?” Arthur asked. “Why don’t we take the long way home and walk down by the lake?”
Merlin slid his hand into Arthur’s. “A long stroll sounds nice.”
They walked in a comfortable silence to the end of the street, but as they passed a shop window Merlin noticed Arthur straighten his back and suck in his gut, smoothing down the front of his jumper as he glanced at his reflection. So Merlin wrapped one arm around Arthur’s middle, squeezing gently.
“Don’t let Isolde get to you, Arthur. You are in far better shape than most men your age nowadays, and actually I think you’re in better shape now than you were even as a knight. Which is saying something! Don’t forget, I saw you naked back then, too.”
Arthur chuckled, and Merlin reached over to slide one hand down Arthur’s muscled stomach.
“All those times dressing you and preparing your bath, I know I wasn’t really supposed to be looking, but don’t think I wasn’t enjoying the view.”
Arthur snorted. “Yeah, you weren’t fooling anyone. I knew you were looking. Why do you think I paraded around without my shirt on so often?”
Merlin feigned shock, and Arthur rolled his eyes, because between all the stolen glances and flushed cheeks all those years ago in Arthur’s chambers, they both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
Arthur sighed and looked down the road as they walked. “I don’t know why I let Tristan and Isolde get under my skin like that.”
“You’ve never reacted well to being on the receiving end of teasing.”
“Didn’t seem to stop you!”
“Well,” Merlin answered with a half shrug. “I’m special.”
Arthur gave him a crooked grin and threw his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, conceding defeat. “That you are.”
After a few moments, though, Arthur’s chin dipped toward his chest. “I’ll text Isolde tomorrow and call off the bet. I’d still like to spar with her, though. I do think there’s value in keeping up my sword-fighting skills.”
“Because you never know when someone might attack you with a sword these days?” Merlin started to laugh, but then his chest tightened and his face fell as he remembered the vision from the Crystal Cave. Fortunately Arthur didn’t seem to notice the shift in Merlin’s mood.
When they reached the edge of the lake, they both fell silent as they often did while walking this path. The waters of the Lake of Avalon held significant memories for each of them. Merlin watched the reflection of the moon dance across the surface of the lake, and he thought about so many nights spent standing on this shore, trying to peer into the depths of the murky water, eyes filled with tears, wondering if he would ever see his king again.
And suddenly, Merlin felt that old familiar clench in his throat. That weight on his chest. He reached desperately for Arthur’s hand, needing physical confirmation that he was back. That he was here with Merlin.
But this time, the warmth of Arthur’s hand in his wasn’t enough to ease the anxiety. At first Merlin thought his apprehension must be due to the jarring reminder he had moments earlier of the image of Arthur dying again, but he was physically shaking. This was more than his ever-present worry about losing Arthur. Even as Arthur tugged his hand, striding more briskly toward their house to leave the lake behind, the hair on the back of Merlin’s neck stood on end. A shiver ran down his spine and he felt an undeniable presence he hadn’t felt for years.
Magic.
There was magic here. More than the usual magic of Avalon which he usually found comforting. All those centuries, Merlin knew that magic was keeping Arthur safe, but this was different. This wasn’t the life-giving magic of Avalon. This was a taking magic.
Merlin’s eyes scanned the shore of the lake. He saw two other couples sharing a night-time stroll. A small group of teenagers sat at the edge of the water, tossing stones into the lake. A woman carrying a briefcase walked past them, heels clicking loudly along the pavement, and Merlin noticed that she suddenly clutched her coat around her and picked up her already brisk pace as she passed a hooded man who stood alone, somewhat hidden by shrubbery. The woman moved on, but Merlin’s eyes remained focused on the hooded figure.
He felt another flare of magic as he watched him. Could this person be the source of the magical presence he felt?
Arthur squeezed his hand. “What is it, Merlin? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Merlin answered automatically, giving Arthur a tense smile.
A crease appeared in Arthur’s forehead as he gazed back at Merlin. “No, you noticed something just now, and you got all tense and turned into Investigative Merlin, looking around suspiciously at everyone here.”
Merlin laughed. Arthur knew him too well. He paused for a moment, almost ready to tell Arthur that he had felt a magical force, but the words stuck in his throat. If Arthur knew what Merlin had felt, he would want to investigate as well. He would spring into leadership mode and would probably head back toward the lake to begin conducting interviews and gathering evidence. If one of those people was using magic, Arthur’s actions might put them on the defensive which might put Arthur in danger. Merlin could not take that chance.
“No it’s nothing, Arthur.” He shook his head adamantly. “I was just thinking about something that happened at work today. If I was looking around, I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”
He tried to keep his tone light, dismissing Arthur’s concern, but Arthur simply peered at him for a moment and then turned to face forward with a heavy sigh. He kept hold of Merlin’s hand, but did not speak the rest of the way home.
They both puttered around the house a bit before getting ready for bed. Merlin tidied the kitchen and then sat at the table, his laptop open before him, to pay some bills, while Arthur started a load of laundry and then folded and put away the sheets and towels that had been sitting in a basket in front of the dryer all week. Merlin hoped spending some time on these routine chores would help to lessen Arthur’s frustration.
Merlin hated for Arthur to be angry with him, so whenever Arthur passed through the kitchen, Merlin tried to catch his eye with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrows or a hopeful smile, attempting to let Arthur know he’d be up for being pulled away from the bills and into their bedroom at any point. But each time Arthur came near, he seemed to avoid Merlin’s gaze, the crease on his forehead deepening with each pass, until finally, he declared that he didn’t sleep well the night before, so he was going to bed early. Without so much as a kiss on the cheek, Arthur stalked off to their room.
His sour mood was, of course, the result of Merlin keeping the truth from him about what he had noticed during their walk home that evening. Merlin felt bad about lying, but he was only trying to protect his boyfriend, after all.
After Arthur closed himself off in their room, Merlin stared at the computer screen, no longer able to focus on the bills. The visions of Arthur’s death played over and over in his mind, and he couldn’t help wondering whether the magic he felt at the lake had anything to do with the mysterious hooded figure, and whether that person might end up hurting Arthur.
After a while, Merlin realised that his online banking session had timed out from inactivity, so he closed his laptop with a sigh. Maybe he should have just told Arthur that he had sensed magic tonight. Perhaps together they could have investigated the person hiding in the bushes. They probably would have discovered a mystery no deeper than a teenager secretly doing drugs or a biology student looking for frogs, and then they could have laughed about Merlin’s persistent suspicious nature and come home and had sex before falling into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, limbs tangled together between the sheets.
Merlin stared at the closed door to his and Arthur’s bedroom, mentally debating his next course of action, but he quickly resolved that if he planned to be completely honest with Arthur, he would first have to find out the truth himself, so he grabbed his jacket and jotted down a quick note.
“Lost a receipt I need for work. Retracing steps in case it fell out of my pocket. Be back soon.”
More lies. Merlin’s stomach churned and he closed his eyes, reaching for the note, almost ready to give in and wake Arthur to ask for his help, but then the image of Arthur dying in his arms flitted through his mind, strengthening his resolve. He told himself he had a good reason for lying to Arthur. So Merlin pushed his guilt aside and stole out the door to jog back down to the lake.
He slowed as he stepped off the pavement onto the shore. The lake area was now deserted, but somehow the stillness, broken only by the sounds of leaves rustling with the gentle breeze and the quiet lapping of water against the rocks, felt ominous rather than peaceful to Merlin. His skin prickled and his breathing shallowed. The magical presence he had felt earlier was even stronger than before.
Merlin wondered whether the source of this magic could sense Merlin’s own power. That thought put him on sudden alert, and he scanned the area around the lake more thoroughly. His eyes strained to see through the darkness, looking for any movement behind the bushes and tall grass along the shore. In addition, Merlin reached out with his magic, attempting to seek out any other magical being who might be lurking near Avalon.
As Merlin neared the spot where he first sensed the magic earlier, he stumbled, reaching out helplessly for purchase as a powerful wave of magic washed over him. Merlin crouched low to regain his balance and peered into the bushes. He spotted a figure in a long coat, swaying, arms stretched out toward the lake. Was this the same hooded figure he had seen earlier? Before, Merlin thought he had seen a man, but now the person he watched almost dancing alongside the water appeared to be a woman. At least from behind. Merlin could not see her face.
He crept closer, certain she was the source of the magic he felt. He might have marched right up to greet her had she been any normal magic user. Since magic was fading from the earth, Merlin so rarely encountered another sorcerer, so he should have been pleased to find someone else like him. However the magical vibes exuding from this woman were unlike any Merlin had ever felt. He could sense the emotions fuelling the magic, and while they weren’t exactly evil, they were far from benevolent.
Now that he stood merely a few metres from the hooded woman, he could hear her incanting. He couldn’t quite understand the words she spoke, but he recognised the ancient language and cadence of a spell. Keeping his footfalls as quiet as possible, Merlin circled around so he might catch a glimpse of her face.
He thought if he could position himself directly to her right side, he would be able to spot at least her profile, but as he slid forward, closer to the edge of the water, he huffed out a frustrated breath. Her long black hair fell forward beyond her hood, further shielding her face from view. Merlin didn’t want to have to step into the water, but he couldn’t quite achieve the right angle to see the sorceress well enough to identify her. She continued her incantation, and Merlin’s stomach flipped in recognition. Her lilting tone and graceful movements felt so familiar to him; he had seen a sorceress use this particular lyrical method of incanting once before, many years ago. Morgause?
Merlin crouched low, easing forward along the wet pebbles. There was no way this woman could be Morgause, but even as every fibre of his being denied the possibility of the evil sorceress’s return, his mind presented him with the faces of all the others he had known in Camelot who were once again part of his life. Arthur, of course, but also Tristan and Isolde and—
The woman turned toward him, and Merlin’s heart dropped and he fell forward onto his hands and knees.
The hooded sorceress was not Morgause.
She was her protégé, Morgana.
Their eyes locked for one impossibly long moment, but before Merlin could react, Morgana flung her arms out and then upward with the same dramatic flair Merlin remembered from her later years in Camelot. A swirl of smoke appeared around her, and with a blast of air that forced Merlin to brace harder against the earth, she disappeared.
Scrambling to his feet, Merlin ran to the spot where she had just been standing, and he spun around, casting his gaze in every direction, looking for any sign of Morgana, but once again, the air was still. She was nowhere to be found.
Heart pounding, Merlin stared across the water. How could Morgana be here? He had never been able to figure out why some of his and Arthur’s friends from Camelot had returned, but others hadn’t. Was this Morgana a reincarnation like Tristan and Isolde? Might she have Morgana’s soul and likeness, but perhaps not the old Morgana’s personality and memories?
Or was this the old Morgana? Did she have all of her powers? Did she still want to take over what she saw as her rightful kingdom? Merlin’s throat clenched. Did she still want to destroy Arthur?
Arthur. Merlin had left him all alone at their house. A chill stole down Merlin’s spine. Where had Morgana gone when she disappeared just now? Feet slipping on the wet pebbles, Merlin took off running. Streets and cars and buildings seemed to blur around him as his lungs burned and his trainers pounded on the pavement. All he could focus on was Arthur. How could Merlin have left him defenseless? Morgana could simply use her magic to slip into the house unnoticed and kill Arthur in his sleep.
Thankfully the streets were empty of traffic this late at night, because Merlin was focussing all his attention on discerning the path before him. As soon as he rounded the corner onto their street, Merlin was finally able to focus his inner eye on his house. Everything in his immediate vicinity disappeared as Merlin looked past the front door and down the hall. His feet maintained their brutal pace and his body continued to propel forward down the street, but Merlin’s attention was in his bedroom. He didn’t see any indication of a struggle, and through the darkness, he could see Arthur’s form beneath the covers, his breath deep and steady. Merlin cried out in relief as he reached the path to their door. He pulled his focus back to himself and slowed his pace so he wouldn’t alarm Arthur by bursting into the house in a panic.
Merlin paused on the front porch to catch his breath, and this time, he focused his magical sense into and around the house, searching for any evidence of Morgana’s magic. He unlocked the door and then leaned against the door jamb, heaving a deep sigh, because he sensed nothing. Morgana was not here. Closing the door gently behind him, Merlin went straight into his bedroom, and tears filled his eyes at the sight of his boyfriend sleeping peacefully, a slight snore rumbling deep in his throat as he lay sprawled on his back with one arm and one leg flung onto Merlin’s side of the bed.
Unable to help himself, Merlin reached out and stroked one hand across Arthur’s forehead and down his cheek. Arthur grunted slightly and crinkled his brow.
“Your hands are cold,” he mumbled as he rolled onto his side, turning away from Merlin.
With a chuckle, Merlin blew out another sigh of relief. He toed off his shoes and kicked them aside and then stripped down to his boxers as he walked around the bed. Merlin slid under the covers, edging closer to Arthur. He half expected Arthur to grunt his displeasure again and roll away, still angry from before, but instead Arthur scooted forward, wrapping both arms around his boyfriend.
“C’mere. I’ll warm you up.”
Within moments, Arthur was snoring again, but Merlin could not go to sleep. He spent the rest of the night watching Arthur sleeping and wondering why Morgana was back and whether whatever she had planned might be the reason Arthur himself had returned.
No matter how much Merlin tried to focus his attention on the beloved face before him, he could not escape the image from his dreams of a sword plunging forward and Arthur crumpling to the ground, eyes wide.
******
Merlin let himself into the house early the next afternoon. He took off work early, because he had invited an old friend over to ask for advice. While he waited, Merlin put the kettle on and arranged some biscuits on a plate. He smiled, remembering his early meetings with this friend back in Camelot. During all those frustratingly mysterious conversations deep beneath the castle, never would Merlin have imagined that one day he’d be sitting down for tea with the dragon.
After Arthur’s death, Kilgharrah had disappeared for many years, and it wasn’t until nearly half a century later that Merlin found out he had gone away in search of Aithusa. The younger dragon must have sustained severe injuries in the battle, however, because Kilgharrah never found her.
Kilgharrah’s magical strength was nearly gone, so in order to sustain his life and continue to live largely unnoticed, he had changed his appearance. Years after the fall of Camelot, Merlin was shocked one day when he was approached by a cantankerous old man who spoke with the dragon’s voice.
They kept in touch over the centuries that followed, but Kilgharrah preferred to travel the globe, collecting every book and artefact related to magic he could find in his never-ending search for his kin. Merlin, however, remained close to the lake, ever hopeful for Arthur’s return.
Merlin checked his watch. Kilgharrah was almost half an hour later than he said he would be. Merlin wanted to talk to him before Arthur got home, partly because he didn’t want Arthur to overhear, but also because he thought he and Kilgharrah might be able to take action to track Morgana down, and Merlin wanted to get started on that right away.
He had ignored his duties at work that morning, instead spending all his time poring over websites from both religious sources and paranormal researchers about reincarnation and theories about soul rebirth. Merlin wished he still had some of Gaius’s books about the Old Religion. He sighed. More to the point, he wished he had Gaius himself to help him figure out how and why Morgana had returned. His desire for a learned mentor to question was perhaps why he had texted Kilgharrah and asked him to come. Although the former dragon could still be quite cryptic, he did have years of experience witnessing the practice of the Old Religion.
After another twenty minutes passed, Merlin had long given up on keeping the kettle hot, and he was starting to worry about his old friend. Surely Morgana would not have gone after Kilgharrah. Finally Merlin heard a knock on the door, and he almost tripped over his own feet in his rush to answer. He threw open the door and flat-out stated, “You’re late.”
Kilgharrah tilted his head down and gazed at Merlin over the top of his glasses. “Alas, as I no longer have wings to carry me swiftly over hill and dale, I am occasionally waylaid by traffic.”
Merlin apologised and let his old friend in. He tossed teabags into two cups, waved his hand over the kettle to reheat it and then poured the once again steaming water into the cups as he immediately started explaining to Kilgharrah why he had summoned him.
“So after Arthur was asleep, I went back to the lake to see if I could find the source of the magical force I felt. And when I got there a sorceress was casting a spell over the water.” Merlin slid one teacup across the table. “I got as close as I could to see her face.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “It was Morgana.”
If this revelation surprised Kilgharrah, he showed no indication of it. He picked up a spoon to swirl the teabag around in his cup. He looked back up at Merlin and tilted his head.
“I don’t believe the witch, Morgana, has returned.”
Merlin scoffed. “Well, I saw her standing at the lake last night!”
Kilgharrah simply shook his head. “You saw someone who resembled her, perhaps.”
Scooting to the edge of his chair, Merlin insisted, “No, she looked just the same. And I felt her magic. That was powerful magic. I haven’t felt anything like that in years, maybe centuries!”
While Merlin’s leg bounced up and down, and he stared wide-eyed at Kilgharrah, waiting for him to change his mind and see the imminent danger, his old friend casually scooped out his teabag and poured a bit of milk into his cup, swirling the spoon around slowly in the tea before setting it aside and raising the cup to his lips to breath in the steam and take a small sip of the warm liquid.
“I felt it, too, Merlin.” He finally answered, and Merlin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, but once again, Kilgharrah took his time, sipping his tea a few more times before he continued, “Magic that powerful could not escape my notice. However, it was not Morgana’s magic.”
Merlin sat up again and rubbed the back of his neck, narrowing his eyes at Kilgharrah.
“So who was it, then? Who else has that much power?”
Kilgharrah was quiet again, seemingly contemplating how to answer Merlin, but his carefully measured responses were beginning to get on Merlin’s nerves.
“I’m telling you, it was her. Morgana’s back.” Merlin blurted out into the tense silence.
Somehow Merlin’s agitation seemed to amuse his ancient friend. “You are not the only powerful sorcerer left in the world, Merlin. For centuries, you have waited for the return of your king. He has been your sole focus.” His eyes twinkled as Merlin fumed. “You had no need to take note of other magical beings around you unless they posed a threat to your duty of protecting Arthur. There is another magical being whose power, though it has held steady for centuries, has recently grown enough to gain your attention.”
Merlin shook his head in denial. “No. This wasn’t just some random magical being. Look, I know what I saw, I know what I felt. I saw Morgana standing on the shore of the lake just as clearly as I see you sitting here before me.”
“You saw Morgana?” Arthur asked from the doorway.
Merlin whipped his head around at the sound of Arthur’s voice. He stepped slowly into the room, still wearing his coat.
“When?” His voice was tight as he looked straight at Merlin, not even acknowledging that Kilgharrah was in the room.
Merlin stood to face his boyfriend, shrugging an apology. “Last night. After you went to bed.”
Arthur cocked his head to one side. “So you lied to me. You did notice something strange at the lake. You lied so you could go back on your own to check it out.”
Sighing, Merlin held his hands out and said weakly, “I wanted to protect you.”
Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head, and then, ignoring Merlin, he turned to Kilgharrah. “I take it you don’t believe him that Morgana is back?”
Kilgharrah folded his hands on his lap and took a deep breath before answering. “I believe Merlin sensed magic as powerful as Morgana’s ever was, and I do not doubt that the person he saw at the lake last night had the appearance of your half-sister.”
His lips tightened into a frustratingly enigmatic smirk as he glanced back and forth between Merlin and Arthur. Merlin was used to hearing half-truths and partial explanations from his old friend, so he rolled his eyes, but when Kilgharrah showed no sign of continuing, Arthur flung his hands out and prompted him, “But?”
The hint of a smile on the old man’s face widened until he looked maddeningly smug. “You see, destiny is a strange thing, Mr. Pendragon.”
Arthur threw his head back with an exasperated sigh and turned to Merlin with an ‘are you kidding me?’ sort of look.
Kilgharrah paid no attention to Arthur’s hissy fit and continued his rambling reflections on destiny.
“Fate weaves the fabric of each life from individual strands, with each thread playing an integral role. A single thread might not seem important, but it touches so many others as it winds its way through the fabric of a life. Certain threads become entwined so closely they cannot be separated.”
Finally, Arthur lost his patience with Kilgharrah’s seemingly pointless oration. He rounded on Merlin. “What is he talking about? Is Morgana back, or isn’t she?”
Merlin sighed. “I can’t be sure, Arthur, but I saw— if it wasn’t her, it was someone who looked exactly like her, and she was using magic. Powerful magic.”
“Then we have to go look for her.” Arthur strode quickly to the coat rack and handed Merlin his jacket. “Right now. We don’t know what she’s up to, and we can’t take a chance on her hurting anyone before we get to her.”
Merlin hesitated. This was exactly why he didn’t mention anything to Arthur last night. He knew as soon as Arthur heard any mention of danger, he switched into leadership mode, immediately placing himself between his people and whatever might threaten their safety.
“Merlin.” Arthur inched toward the door impatiently.
Past experience had taught Merlin that once Arthur snapped into action, no one could talk him out of it. Merlin slipped on his jacket, ready to follow Arthur before he took off on his own, completely unprepared.
Before they made it to the door, however, Kilgharrah stood, his patronising reflective mood broken. “Merlin, you need to know who you’re facing. You will not find a foe at the lake, but neither will you find a friend.”
With a heavy sigh, Arthur spun and marched out the door, his patience for obscure advice depleted. Merlin turned pleading eyes on Kilgharrah.
“I have to go with him.”
Kilgharrah nodded his agreement, but continued talking nonetheless. “Though he has escaped your notice for years, the sorcerer who has now focused his attention on Avalon is quite powerful. You have to know, Merlin, that he seeks immortality. He will take magic from any source he finds in order to achieve his goal. He will try to take your magic, old friend, but you cannot allow that.”
Merlin paused at the door, torn between his need to protect Arthur and his desire to learn more about the enemy they might be facing.
“How can I defeat him?”
“You do not need to defeat him, Merlin, but you must not agree to give him your magic.”
Merlin scoffed. “Okay. Seems simple enough.”
Kilgharrah’s eyes met his, and Merlin frowned at the sadness he saw there. “He desires your magic, and he has the ability to absorb your power, but the only way for him to acquire it is for you to give it to him willingly.”
“I don’t plan on giving my magic away, okay?” Merlin’s own patience was wearing thin. “Look, feel free to stick around and finish your tea. I have to catch Arthur.”
He turned and flew out the door, tearing down the path to find his boyfriend.
******
Arthur stalked down the pavement in the direction of the lake, memories of his half-sister’s face swimming before his eyes. How could Merlin have kept this from him? If Morgana really was back, what had brought her back? What could she be planning this time? And would she be the selfish Morgana from the years he was king or might she have she returned as the compassionate and generous, if somewhat obnoxious, friend he remembered from his youth.
Perhaps if he could find her before she started carrying out whatever plans she might have, Arthur could explain to her how much his views on magic have changed. Perhaps if she could see the way he is with Merlin— how much Arthur enjoys the ease and comforts magic adds to their daily lives— he might be able to convince her that she could be herself this time. That they could even be friends.
On the other hand, what if Kilgharrah was right? What if this was a new magical threat? Morgana, they might have a chance of negotiating with, but Arthur was unsure how to approach a powerful new sorcerer.
He heard Merlin’s running footsteps approaching from behind him, so Arthur started walking more quickly. Logically, he knew that he would need Merlin, with his centuries of magical knowledge and abilities to face this new threat, but he wasn’t quite ready to forgive his boyfriend for keeping secrets from him.
Merlin caught up with him soon enough, though. “Arthur, wait!” He panted hard as he slowed to match Arthur’s pace. “We can’t just rush headlong into this. We need a plan.”
“Well you’ve had all night and most of the day to come up with something, Merlin. Give me a minute; I’m a little behind.”
He heard Merlin heave a sigh, but Arthur refused to look at him. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you last night, Arthur. You jump right into action without stopping to think things through.”
Arthur threw his hands up. “You’re right. It’s such a shame then, that I don’t have years of military training so I could analyse an enemy’s tactics, and then strategize based on those tactics and devise a plan of action for victory mid-battle.” He whipped around to glare at Merlin. “Oh wait. I do.”
After one more frustrated sigh, Merlin managed to keep his mouth shut until they arrived at the lake. Fortunately the lake was not a popular destination on a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of autumn, so no one else was around. Arthur marched right over to a large rock on the shore and sat down to wait. He thought about choosing one of the smaller rocks so Merlin would either have to stand or sit on the ground beside him, but he decided now was not the time to be petty.
Merlin took a few moments to cast his gaze around the edge of the water, probably using his magic to seek out the other sorcerer, but then he joined Arthur on the rock.
They sat in silence for several long moments before Merlin reached over to tap his knuckles against the back of Arthur’s hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Are you?” Arthur turned to look directly into Merlin’s eyes, silently pleading with him to tell the truth. “Are you really sorry, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”
Merlin’s shoulders slumped, and Arthur had his answer.
“I thought we were past all that. We've talked about this before. I thought you were done hiding things from me, Merlin.”
Merlin turned his head down and away from Arthur. He didn’t say anything, so Arthur sat quietly, patiently waiting, letting Merlin process what he had said. He didn’t mean to make Merlin feel guilty, really. He just wanted him to understand that he could trust Arthur now. That they were in this together.
Arthur watched Merlin’s hands fidgeting with his jeans as he tried to decide how to respond, and he was about to give Merlin a reprieve and tell him that of course he had already forgiven Merlin for keeping a secret— that he just wanted Merlin to know he could count on Arthur and he didn’t need to protect him anymore, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of movement by the shore of the lake.
A man wearing a sort of hooded cape stood at the water’s edge. Arthur wasn’t certain the man had noticed them sitting there yet.
“Merlin,” he hissed under his breath and, without raising his hand from his knee, pointed toward the man.
Merlin glanced up. “It’s her.”
Baffled, Arthur looked from Merlin to the man and back again. “What?” But Merlin was already standing and walking toward the hooded man who had now turned to face them.
“It’s good to see you both again,” the man said, lowering his hood and holding his arms out in welcome.
“What are you doing here, Morgana?” Merlin asked, his voice low and threatening.
Morgana? Arthur could not understand what was happening. Why did Merlin think that man was Morgana? He stood slowly and took a few steps toward the pair. “Merlin? What are you doing?”
“Stay behind me, Arthur.” Without turning, Merlin held one hand up in warning to Arthur and then addressed the mysterious man again. “How long have you been back?”
“Not long,” the man answered. “I was so confused at first. I awoke beside this lake, and I had no idea that any time had passed, but once I realised, I thought it was only me. I thought I was all alone. My magic… is weak here.” His voice wavered and tears shone in his eyes. “And when I try to leave the lake, I feel faint. Merlin, I know I did horrible things in the past. I was weak and selfish. I let the pain of having to hide who I really was consume me. I hurt you both, and so many others, and for that I am so very sorry.”
“I don’t believe you.” Merlin was still trying to sound threatening, but Arthur knew him well enough to hear his resolve wavering. For whatever reason, Merlin believed he was talking with a reincarnated Morgana.
“Merlin…” Arthur needed Merlin to know the truth, but he was hesitant to call out this obviously powerful trickster, unsure of how he might react.
The man looked directly at Arthur and gave a sad smile. “Dear brother.” Arthur frowned, and the man shook his head and shrugged, almost ashamed. “Oh, I suppose I gave up any right I had to call you that when I plotted to have you killed.” The man’s face crumpled and his hands flew to cover his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I wouldn’t blame you if you hate me. I hate myself for everything I did back then.”
“We don’t hate you, Morgana.” Merlin, always the peacemaker, stepped forward and put one hand on the man’s shoulder as it shook with his sobs.
The man looked up, giving Merlin a watery smile which, to Arthur’s horror, Merlin returned.
“Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur continued inching forward as the man spoke to Merlin as if he were Morgana. “I hoped you would be able to forgive me. After all, we’re the same, deep down.”
Merlin tensed and took a step back. He didn’t seem to appreciate being told he was the same as Morgana. Good, thought Arthur as he moved to stand beside Merlin.
The man reached out toward Merlin, though. “Sorry. I know I’ve made many mistakes and hurt people, and I need to make amends for that in whatever way I can. I only meant that you and I are both creatures of magic. We depend on magic for our very existence.”
Arthur tried to think of a way he could warn Merlin not to trust this man without indicating that he knew he was not, in fact, Morgana, because this strange sorcerer seemed to think that whatever magic he was using to change his appearance was fooling both Merlin and Arthur. Arthur wasn’t certain how the sorcerer might react if he discovered that his ruse wasn’t working on Arthur. He didn’t want the sorcerer to feel threatened. Maybe if he made it seem like he was amused, rather than angry?
As Arthur thought through his options, the man did not let up on his relentless appeal to Merlin’s compassionate side.
“I need my magic to live just as you do, Merlin. It’s so much a part of me that I do not feel whole without it. I do not know what brought me back, or why I was returned in this broken state, but if I am to continue this life, I need my strength.”
The sorcerer reached out and gathered Merlin’s hands into his own. “I think if you would share just a little of your magic with me, I could be complete again, and we could work together using our magic to help the people of this world as we should have done in Camelot.”
Arthur almost laughed out loud at this transparent plea. There was no way Merlin would give up any of his magic. Especially not to Morgana! But Merlin turned to look at Arthur, his eyes wide with indecision as if he hoped Arthur would help him make this difficult choice.
“Merlin! Don’t be an idiot.” Arthur’s astonishment came out in a rush of laughter mixed with insults. “Look at him, you clotpole! That is not Morgana!” He laughed again and addressed the sorcerer. “You’re not my sister. I don’t know why you’re using her face and her voice, but—“
The sorcerer threw up his hands, and Arthur felt as if he had been hit by a car. He flew backward and his head knocked hard against the ground. Everything went black.
******
“I think if you would share just a little of your magic with me, I could be complete again, and we could work together using our magic to help the people of this world as we should have done in Camelot.”
Emrys was definitely coming around. Taking the form of Morgana had been a good plan. As he spun his web of lies about her plight and begged for forgiveness and assistance, Emrys’s eyes saddened with empathy for his old friend.
Pathetic.
Arthur still seemed unconvinced, however. He had known all along that Arthur might prove to be a hurdle, given that he had spent his entire former life fighting against magic and magical beings. For some reason, Emrys was still convinced it was his destiny to protect the former king of Camelot.
For years after Arthur’s death, stories were passed around the kingdom about the king’s deep loyalty and his compassion for his enemies. So he thought posing as Arthur’s sister and pleading for forgiveness for her past crimes would be a way to play on Arthur’s emotions and bring in his support and therefore Emrys’s.
But for some reason, Arthur seemed immune to his magical disguise.
“Merlin! Don’t be an idiot.” Arthur was not fooled. “Look at him, you clotpole! That is not Morgana!” He laughed again and addressed the sorcerer. “You’re not my sister. I don’t know why you’re using her face and her voice, but—“
He flung his hands out and sent the obnoxious former king flying in order to protect his secret.
Emrys threw him a frightened look and then flew to Arthur’s side, kneeling beside him to cradle his head and press frantic fingers against his king’s cheeks and neck.
“Arthur?” Emrys sounded panicked. “Arthur, are you okay?”
He watched as this great and powerful sorcerer he had heard tales of most of his life crouched on the ground, hands flying over the man he was meant to protect, cradling his head on his lap almost tenderly.
Emrys looked back at him, eyes full of pain and desperation. “Why did you do that?! How could you hurt him again?!”
Returning his focus to the unconscious Arthur, Emrys stroked his cheek and whispered, “Please...”
And suddenly everything clicked into place, and he understood why Arthur was so protective of Emrys’s magic and why Emrys was acting so devastated at the thought of losing his charge. These two men loved each other.
A slow smile spread across his face.
This changed everything. Now he had leverage. Now he wouldn’t need to convince Emrys he would be helping an old friend turned enemy by giving up his magic. Emrys would hand it over willingly in order to stay with the man he loves.
Although Emrys was probably getting suspicious, he retained the Morgana façade. “It was a reflex. I thought he was attacking me.”
“No, you didn’t.” Emrys’s face had changed. Gone was the sappy young man in love. The worry in his eyes was replaced with an almost vicious determination. “You thought he was exposing you. You’re not Morgana. Who are you, and why have you taken her form?!”
Emrys had not moved; he still sat on the ground, tenderly holding his lover, but anger radiated from him in waves. His power was, for the moment, carefully contained, but he was clearly ready to strike at any provocation.
“I’m a creature of magic just like I said. And I can help you, if you let me.”
Emrys scoffed. “You don’t want to help me, you only want to help yourself! You were trying to trick me into giving up my magic, but it won’t work. You may be able to hide your physical form, but Arthur saw through you. And now, so do I. It is our destiny to protect this world from people like you.”
“Destiny?” He laughed at Emrys’s naivety. “You’re a fool. Destiny did this to you. Pendragon is doomed to die over and over again, and you’re doomed to wait for him forever. Your magic is tied to Arthur’s soul: a string of fate tinged with blood. Your lives will always be filled with tragedy and despair, unless…”
“Unless what?” Emrys gently lowered Arthur’s head to the ground and rose, walking slowly toward him, narrowing his eyes threateningly. “Unless I give up my magic? Hand it over to you?” He stopped, glaring down his nose at the shorter form of Morgana. “Not likely.”
He had to admit, Emrys was intimidating. Centuries of wielding such tremendous power had taught him he had little to fear. But Arthur was still powerless, and as long as Emrys loved him, he would do anything to protect him, so the only hope he had of weakening Emrys’s resolve was to sever the bond between him and Arthur.
He could take Emrys’s memories.
Focus, he thought to himself as he stared down his opponent. Memory removal was not a power that came as naturally to him as absorbing others’ magic, but he had successfully wiped people’s memories before. Concentrate on clearing his mind.
The others had not noticed as he entered their minds, but Emrys was clearly different. The moment he focused his magic to attempt the memory wipe, Emrys furrowed his brow. With an almost amused tone, he said simply, “I don’t think so,” and flung one hand out, sending his attacker tumbling to the ground.
******
Merlin was able to bring Arthur around enough to walk home, and now he sat in their living room pressing an ice pack to the back of Arthur’s head after pouring him a steaming cup of tea. He explained what had happened after the mysterious sorcerer knocked Arthur out.
“So you do know it wasn’t Morgana, right?”
“Yeah.” Merlin shook his head. “But I wonder why you could see through his disguise when I couldn’t.”
Arthur took a sip of his tea. “You mean besides the fact that I’m quite clever, and you’re, well… kind of an idiot?”
“Shut up,” Merlin said with a smile, relieved that Arthur was getting back to his usual self.
They sat quietly for a while, Merlin silently pressing healing spells into Arthur’s skin as Arthur pursed his lips together between sips of tea. Merlin knew he was gearing up to ask for the truth. Arthur wanted the whole story, and of course, he deserved it, but Merlin was still afraid that his telling Arthur about his visions might cause Arthur to take action that would in turn cause those visions to become reality.
So he poured his love and devotion into healing magic, and he waited.
Finally, Arthur set his cup down and took the ice pack from Merlin’s hand, turning on the couch so they sat face to face. “I know you’ve been having nightmares lately, and I know you’ve been keeping things from me. I can see the fear in your face, Merlin. This all started even before you saw that sorcerer at the lake. I need you to be honest with me.”
He reached up and cupped Merlin’s cheek, and Merlin was so terrified of losing Arthur that he couldn’t help tensing at his touch. He thought Arthur would sigh and pull away, possibly giving him a reprieve from having to tell him anything right now, but Arthur just stroked his thumb up and down Merlin’s skin, his eyes filled with unconditional love. Merlin’s own eyes betrayed him in that moment, filling with tears.
“Look,” Arthur said with a smile, “if I thought you were in danger, I would do whatever it took to protect you. Possibly even lie to you and run around behind your back trying to save you.”
Merlin let out a wet laugh as a few tears spilled down his cheek.
“But just because that’s what comes naturally to us, doesn’t mean it’s the right way to handle things,” Arthur continued. “We work best when we work together. Surely our history has taught us that.”
Fists unclenching on his lap, Merlin reluctantly nodded his agreement. Facing this sorcerer would be so much easier with Arthur at his side.
“Whatever battle we’re meant to fight, Merlin, I know we’re meant to fight together.” Arthur slid his hands down to cover Merlin’s. “Two sides of the same coin, they say, right?”
Merlin closed his eyes and nodded. And then everything poured out. The vision of Arthur’s death from the crystals in the cave. His haunting dreams. Everything Kilgharrah had told him the day before. He shared everything with Arthur, and Arthur sat quietly and listened. He listened as Merlin told him how from the moment Arthur had returned, Merlin was terrified of losing him again. He listened as Merlin explained his fears that Arthur would act to protect Merlin or others and in doing so would cause his own death.
Arthur listened quietly to all of Merlin’s fears, and then he pulled Merlin into a hug and told him of his own fears. He talked about how all his life, he was trained to protect his people, and he felt as if he had failed in his duties so many times. So many had died because he failed to notice Morgana’s cries for help.
They wondered who this new sorcerer was and what he might want. Could he be the reason Arthur had returned?
Just as Merlin knew he would, Arthur began theorising about what the next day might bring. He tried to analyse every possible strategy for facing this new foe, and as he spoke, Merlin’s fears began to build again. Arthur would always place himself between danger and those he felt duty-bound to protect. Finally, Merlin pointed out that Arthur had begun talking in circles and might be able to think more clearly after getting some rest.
Well after Arthur was asleep, Merlin continued going over and over Arthur’s strategies in his mind. In his heart, though, he didn’t believe those plans would work. He truly believed that if Arthur was at the lake when they confronted the sorcerer, he would die. And Merlin could not allow that. As the sun started to rise, Merlin leaned over to press a kiss onto Arthur’s cheek and slipped quietly out of bed. He needed to go to the lake alone. He had to do whatever it took to protect Arthur, even if it meant giving his own life.
******
He waited beside the lake all night, still in Morgana’s form, because although Emrys now knew he was not her, he thought the visual reminder of a fellow sorcerer Emrys had once betrayed might make him more sympathetic to the plight of another magical being and therefore more willing to help.
Just before dawn, he saw Emrys walking down the path toward the lake, and he smiled. He was alone. He obviously didn’t want to risk his precious king’s life again. He hoped without Arthur standing beside Emrys, spewing his anti-magic propaganda, he might have more success at convincing this powerful sorcerer to help him.
As he approached, Emrys narrowed his eyes and waved one hand up and down. “I know you’re not Morgana. I don’t know who you are, but it does seem that, like her, you have allowed your magic to corrupt you.”
He scoffed. “Those are Arthur’s words, not yours. Actually, they’re probably King Uther’s words— so deeply ingrained in your friend that you can’t even tell the difference anymore.”
He felt a small surge of victory when Emrys flinched at being compared to Uther, so he continued, his confidence building, “If you think magic is such a corrupting force, why do you cling to yours so tightly? It’s hardly necessary in this modern world full of security and convenience. And you have your king back, so you no longer need your immortality. In fact, you’d probably be better off without it. You don’t want to watch Arthur grow old and die, leaving you behind to live on without him, do you?”
Emrys cast his eyes downward as if this was a possibility he had already considered, but did not like to dwell on.
“So give your magic to me. I don’t actually want to hurt you or Arthur. Or anyone else for that matter. I simply wish to live in peace. You have so much power that you don’t even need. Why not share some of that power with a fellow magical being?” He reached out his hands toward Emrys imploringly.
Emrys, however, backed away. “But why? Why do you think you need to take my magic? You clearly have magic of your own, so why do you think you need more? What purpose does stealing the magic of others serve?”
What purpose did it serve? Only keeping him alive, that was all. He squinted at Emrys, mentally debating how much of his own story he wanted to share with this powerful sorcerer. This powerful sorcerer who had always had support— who had never had to hide his very existence out of fear. He knew the stories. Emrys. Destined to be the greatest sorcerer who ever lived. To befriend the prince and guide him as he built a strong, peaceful Camelot. Emrys, who had spent his childhood with a loving and supportive mother and his young adulthood with a wise and caring mentor. Emrys, who never had to live as a nomad, exiled from one village after another, always on the run. This centuries old sorcerer who did nothing to earn his immortality. How could Emrys ever understand his desperate need for a powerful source of magic, simply to sustain himself?
Emrys probably assumed he was born recently, a magical oddity during this modern age, but they were actually close to the same age. He had lived in Camelot when Uther was king. When he was young, he was shunned for his magic, and he learned at an early age that when he was frightened, his appearance would change, giving him a chance to escape, but he couldn’t control this ability, so he always hoped he could find a home where he could simply be himself. Where he wouldn’t have to hide.
He thought he found a safe home once. He was a teenager when he settled in a village on the outskirts of Camelot. He lived there for three years before one nosy neighbour ruined everything. All the villagers were shocked the day Prince Arthur and his knights rode into town after receiving word that someone in the village was using magic. Everyone stopped what they were doing to gape at the impressive group of red-caped knights on their horses. Before he knew what was happening, his neighbour stepped out from the crowd and pointed in his direction.
“It’s him!” he cried. “He’s a sorcerer!”
His heart had nearly stopped from fear when Prince Arthur looked toward him and directed his knights, “Arrest him.”
He fled, and his appearance shifted the moment he ducked into the crowd. Although he later discovered his neighbour was reporting the local butcher, not him, he reckoned the fact that he ran away might raise some suspicions, so he never returned to the only place he had ever called home.
His people, although similar in appearance to humans, were unique magical beings who nourished themselves by absorbing the magic of the earth around them. His own power seemed stronger than others, although as a rule his people tended to be loners, so he hadn’t actually met many like him. He spent his young adult life travelling across the countryside in search of magical locations and magical objects he could use to sustain his own life.
Eventually, he realised he was not aging at all. When he absorbed the magic from a location, he completely drained that location, leaving it barren of all magical power, and in doing so, he grew stronger and more powerful. The cost of maintaining his newfound immortality, however, was that the longer he lived, the more powerful sources of magic he required.
It was getting more and more difficult for him to locate any magic at all, until recently when he discovered the Crystal Cave. Absorbing all that magic had felt so exhilarating. He felt so powerful stepping out of that cave that, although its magic was enough to sustain him for centuries, he found himself wanting more, so he went to visit the Lake of Avalon. He could sense the formidable magic emanating from the lake as he approached. His heart started to race just thinking about absorbing all of that power, but his efforts were for naught. He was unable to take any magic from the lake.
The next day, he received a visit from a grouchy old man.
“You used to be a dragon? Are you kidding?”
“I’m not exactly the kidding type.” Kilgharrah said before launching into a long and winding tirade about the dangerous path he had put himself on when he took the magic from the cave. “Taking the magic of the Crystal Cave all at once was not a wise decision. You will not find another source to match that one.”
“I found one already,” he said, unable to keep the smug edge from his tone. “Its magic is a little trickier than most, but I’ll get there. Just you wait.”
Kilgharrah gave an infuriatingly knowing smile. “You are referring to the Lake of Avalon, I believe. You won’t be able to absorb its magic for yourself. Avalon’s magic is tied to Emrys. Only he can draw from its power.”
He glared at the old man sitting there so proud of his knowledge of ancient magic, and rage boiled up within him. He could not take the magic of a human, but the man before him used to be a dragon. Perhaps…
He reached out with his senses, attempting to absorb Kilgharrah’s magic, but Kilgharrah only laughed. “Surely you’ve realised by now that the magic of a person must be given willingly.”
“Must be given willingly?” His interest piqued at those words. “You mean it is possible to absorb the magic of another person? All I need is their permission?”
Kilgharrah’s shoulders dropped as the old man seemed to realise he had given more information than he meant to. The damage, however, was done, because that was the moment he set his sights on Emrys.
And now Emrys stood before him, repeating his question, “Why do you want my magic?”
He decided against sharing any of his personal history with Emrys. He liked having this secret that the great and powerful Emrys could not crack.
“My reasons are my own,” he answered before pulling out one more emotional trick to convince Emrys to willingly give over his magic. “Wouldn’t you like to grow old alongside Arthur? The only way you will have that chance is if you give up your immortality. Share your magic with me, and you won’t have to watch him die again, knowing you must live on without him.”
For a moment, he thought Emrys would give in. He thought he saw a hint of doubt steal across his face, but Emrys quickly shook his head. “No. I don’t trust you. My magic is a part of me, and I will not allow you to take it.”
He looked at Emrys, looking back at him with a kind sadness in his eyes, and he knew Emrys would never willingly give up his magic, but he had one tactic left to convince this sorcerer so filled with compassion for his fellow man. He pushed his magic downward, into the earth, until the ground beneath them began to shake. “Then I will destroy this city and everyone in it. And if you still refuse me, I will move on to the next city and the next, until no one is left.”
Another push of power and the trunk of a nearby tree split in two. Emrys turned momentarily at the sound, and then his courage faltered, because when Emrys looked back at him, he saw a dangerous wrath he never would have thought possible from this kind-hearted sorcerer. He held his ground, however. The intense power of the Crystal Cave had given him abilities he never had before, so he formed a fireball in his hand, ready to hurl it into the nearby forest to show Emrys he was serious about destroying the town. Before he had a chance to release it, though, Emrys threw his hands out and he was knocked off his feet by an invisible force.
He stood and tried to throw up a shield to protect himself, but Emrys waved it off and knocked him down again. Even with his new powers, Emrys’s magic was still stronger.
As he struggled to his feet though, he had a thought. He suddenly knew how to stop Emrys from attacking him.
He let his own ancient magic wash over him, changing his form, and when he stood to look at Emrys again, it was with the face of Emrys’s beloved Arthur.
He took a step forward and Emrys raised his hand, but just as quickly lowered it, brow furrowed as his anger seemed to dissolve. That Emrys hesitated to attack him while he looked like Arthur let him know that he could win. Confident, he smiled.
“I know your weakness, Emrys. You may be a powerful sorcerer, but you will always lose, because you have allowed yourself to care too much. You know, I have no such weakness. I will destroy everyone, starting with your precious king, unless you agree to give me what I need. I will give you one day to make your choice.” He smirked. “Or to say goodbye.”
Emrys stared back at him, taking a deep breath but remaining quiet.
“Meet me here at the lake tomorrow morning with your answer,” he said as he took a seat on a rock, folding his arms across his chest.
Horrified, Emrys walked away, turning a few times to look over his shoulder, obviously taking his threats to heart. The warlock's fear pleased him. He stayed by the lake for a while, his body humming with excitement at the prospect of all the magic he would soon possess.
He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice Kilgharrah approaching him until he spoke. “Merlin tells me you’ve been making threats.”
He looked up, ready to lash out to defend himself, but Kilgharrah was looking at him with such sympathy that he sighed, losing his desire to fight. “I don’t actually want to hurt anyone. I only want to live. Emrys doesn’t need his immortality anymore. He’s wasted it anyway.”
As he spoke, centuries of resentment boiled up inside him.
“For so many years, we thought Emrys would be our salvation. He was supposed to bring magic out into the open so we could live freely.”
Kilgharrah shook his head. He almost looked sad. “Merlin was not to blame. We all interpreted the prophecies wrong.”
Obviously, he thought. Emrys seemed to believe all of his magical abilities and his immortality existed solely for the purpose of protecting Arthur.
“I do wonder, though,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “if he had to choose, would he choose magic over Pendragon’s life?”
“Only Merlin can answer that.”
“No,” he snapped back. “We both know the answer. I saw the way he looked at me when I attacked Pendragon. It wasn’t anger in his eyes— it was fear. I’ve never seen someone so afraid of losing another person.”
Kilgharrah was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded with reluctant agreement. “Emrys and the once and future king share a bond that is possibly stronger than any two humans have ever shared.”
His stomach clenched with jealousy. Why had fate decided to focus so much strength and authority on keeping those two together? What was so special about them? Emrys could have used his powers to take over the world in the name of magic, but instead he wasted his abilities serving others. And Pendragon was one of the most famous kings this land had ever known. He was raised from the dead, and what was he doing? Trying to live a normal life. What a waste.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. Soon all the magic will be gone from the world. Only the most powerful sorcerers will be able to live and eventually only Emrys will remain.” He kicked a rock toward the lake, frustrated all over again at fate’s choice to bless such a worthless sorcerer with the gift of immortality.
Kilgharrah frowned. “I don’t believe magic is disappearing. Merely changing.”
He waited for Kilgharrah to explain this theory, but the old man simply turned to stare out over the water, deep in thought.
“Well, I think you’re wrong, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect myself.” He started to walk away, but looked back at Kilgharrah to say, “I will get Emrys to hand over his magic. You’ll see.”