*Note this is a Fan Fiction*
No!”
Arthur’s voice echoed across the Great Hall. The man who had been his father, Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, was lying on the floor. Cold.
Dead.
Merlin just watched, aghast, as the young Prince, dropped to his knees, and knelt by his father, weeping. Gaius approached the royal family, but Arthur had shaken his head. There was nothing the physician could do now.
“Find Morgana, then leave us.”
Gaius accepted the dismissal, as did the rest of the onlookers – members of the court, servants who had heard Arthur’s yell - but Merlin was more reluctant to go. The Dragon had always spoken of his and Arthur’s shared destiny; was this that destiny. Was he supposed to speak up now? To finally reveal the magic he had kept hidden these past seven years?
But as he approached, Arthur spoke. “Not now Merlin” Those three words, three words that had become so familiar to the young warlock, were no longer spoke with the contempt or frustration he was used to, but with pure and utter heartbreak. Merlin waited until Morgana appeared, before leaving them to grieve in private.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Barely an hour later, Gaius was called into the Great Hall, and Merlin chose to accompany the physician.
As they entered, Merlin saw Arthur, sitting in the King’s throne now, but Morgana was nowhere to be seen, and Uther’s body was now laid out on a slab in front of the thrones.
“Gaius, would you examine him, please?” Arthur addressed the physician, gesturing towards his father’s dead body, before turning his attention to his manservant. Merlin, although stunned by his master’s politeness, was attempting to shrink behind a pillar.
“Merlin, I need you send Morgana to me, tell the Knights to assemble here in one hour, and to fetch the Court Librarian.” Merlin nodded, and left the Great Hall.
He returned from his errands, with the Librarian, the oldest member of Uther’s Court, just as Gaius was giving his verdict.
“Sudden and catastrophic failure of the heart, Your Majesty”
Arthur simply nodded; it was obvious his thoughts were elsewhere. Morgana, sat beside him looked pale; it was clear she had been crying, but she had managed to compose herself, somehow.
Merlin hung back, as the court librarian approached Arthur. He could see Gwen, standing beside Morgana, and their eyes locked for a second. Gwen half attempted a reassuring smile, trying to hide the uncertainty from her eyes. Arthur may have been trained for that moment, but none of them had expected the King to die so suddenly. Merlin, with slightly more confidence in Arthur’s ability, smiled back. They’d get through this. Somehow.
“Your Majesty,” said the librarian, with a deep bow, then waited for Arthur to address him.
“Yes. I believe you have the documents required to certify my father’s death.”
The librarian nodded, and handed Arthur a parchment, he had hastily picked up when Merlin had called on him. Arthur looked over the parchment, and then towards Merlin.
“Merlin! I need the royal seal; you’ll find it in my father’s chambers. And be quick.”
Nice to see being King hasn’t changed him! grumbled Merlin, silently, as he made his way to the King’s chambers. Arthur’s chambers now, he realised with a dreadful thud. He’d have to move all of Arthur’s possessions, on his own no doubt.
When he returned, Gaius was signing the parchment; presumably the death certificate needed a physician’s confirmation. He brought the seal over to Arthur, who muttered his thanks, before returning to complete the parchment.
“Right, now what?” asked Arthur to his few assembled counsellors. He might have been prepared for the kingship from birth, but it was clear his wasn’t completely familiar with the correct protocol for assuming the throne.
“Envoys must be sent to the neighbouring lands.” Said the librarian, “it’s customary,” he added, when Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“The funeral arrangements,” said Morgana, speaking for the first time.
“And your coronation,” added Gaius.
“And your people,” said Merlin. “You need to address them, quash any inaccurate rumours, before they begin,” he quickly added. His eyes had met Arthur’s, the older man not yet used to such wisdom from his manservant, and friend. Merlin had spent so long hiding his magic, that he had suppressed other parts of his true self alongside his secret.
Arthur nodded, and thought for a few minutes, before giving his reply. “I have asked my Knights to assemble here; I shall ask them to visit our neighbours to relay our tidings of sorrow, after the King’s funeral. Tomorrow, at midday, I will address the people of Camelot, and announce the commencement of two weeks mourning. The King’s funeral will be held at sun down the following day, then our envoys can depart. My coronation can be held two weeks after my father’s burial.”
He already looks and acts like the King thought Merlin. And he would easily convince the people of Camelot of that fact. He just hoped nothing bad happened during the following two weeks, with Camelot without most of its Knights, and without a Crowned King.
“Ensure that the necessary arrangements are made” added Arthur finally, addressing every occupant of the room.
They knew it for the dismissal it was, and all left the hall, but Morgana, who was permitted to remain behind and listen to Arthur’s meeting with his Knights.
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Arthur seemed distant, when he eventually entered his rooms that evening. Merlin was in there removing Arthur’s ceremonial clothes from his wardrobe, so he could wash them in time for the funeral. Merlin knew Arthur had dined with Morgana, he had gleaned that morsel of information from Gwen, but he was still surprised by Arthur’s demeanour. The man seemed calm – too calm – is slightly tense. Arthur may be the new ruler of Camelot, but surely he should show some distress at the loss of his father? But Arthur was obviously reluctant to discuss any of that with Merlin, and swiftly dismissed the young man.
It was troubling Merlin, as he left Arthur’s chambers. Arthur had changed a lot in the seven long years they had known each other. From the arrogant adolescent, just coming of age, to a thoughtful adult nearing the end of his third decade, a man who had proven his leadership, at least on the battlefield, many times over, a man fully capable of ruling Camelot. But simply ruling Camelot wasn’t their destinies. They were to unite the lands of Albion, and reconcile that land with all its folk, including those of magical abilities. Including him.
The Dragon had told Merlin he would know when the time was right to reveal his magical abilities to Arthur, but that time still hadn’t come. Perhaps that was why his feet had carried him, not to his chambers, but to the Dragon’s cave, deep beneath the castle.
Ahh, young warlock. I’ve been expecting you. Even when Merlin was standing in front of the Dragon, his voice seemed to be inside his head.
“You know what has happened, then?”
The rule of Uther Pendragon has ended. You and Your Prince’s time is upon us.
“You don’t have any hints about what we’re supposed to do with this time?” asked Merlin, hopefully.
Arthur must unite the lands of Albion.
“Yes, but how? When?”
The Young are always so impatient.
Merlin declined to respond to that particular comment, but he thought he felt the Dragon sigh, before he responded.
War will fall upon Camelot, within the year. When the magic folk that Uther suppressed realise Arthur will be weary to act in the same way, some will come out from hiding to seek revenge. Others, seeing Arthur’s fairer treatment of all things magical will come out in support for him. Abruptly, the Dragon’s tone changed. Arthur must win that war. It is only then that he can unite Albion.
“And where do I fit into this.”
You, young warlock, have two tasks. Firstly, you must teach Arthur all you can about magic. Secondly, you must raise Excalibur from her watery grave, and place her where Arthur will need her, in his time of need.
“But Arthur doesn’t know what I am, yet.”
Then tell him, young warlock. Before it is too late.
With that, the dragon flew straight up, magically breaking the chains that imprisoned him.
Good luck, young warlock, were the last words Merlin heard as the Great Dragon left Camelot.
No!”
Arthur’s voice echoed across the Great Hall. The man who had been his father, Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, was lying on the floor. Cold.
Dead.
Merlin just watched, aghast, as the young Prince, dropped to his knees, and knelt by his father, weeping. Gaius approached the royal family, but Arthur had shaken his head. There was nothing the physician could do now.
“Find Morgana, then leave us.”
Gaius accepted the dismissal, as did the rest of the onlookers – members of the court, servants who had heard Arthur’s yell - but Merlin was more reluctant to go. The Dragon had always spoken of his and Arthur’s shared destiny; was this that destiny. Was he supposed to speak up now? To finally reveal the magic he had kept hidden these past seven years?
But as he approached, Arthur spoke. “Not now Merlin” Those three words, three words that had become so familiar to the young warlock, were no longer spoke with the contempt or frustration he was used to, but with pure and utter heartbreak. Merlin waited until Morgana appeared, before leaving them to grieve in private.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Barely an hour later, Gaius was called into the Great Hall, and Merlin chose to accompany the physician.
As they entered, Merlin saw Arthur, sitting in the King’s throne now, but Morgana was nowhere to be seen, and Uther’s body was now laid out on a slab in front of the thrones.
“Gaius, would you examine him, please?” Arthur addressed the physician, gesturing towards his father’s dead body, before turning his attention to his manservant. Merlin, although stunned by his master’s politeness, was attempting to shrink behind a pillar.
“Merlin, I need you send Morgana to me, tell the Knights to assemble here in one hour, and to fetch the Court Librarian.” Merlin nodded, and left the Great Hall.
He returned from his errands, with the Librarian, the oldest member of Uther’s Court, just as Gaius was giving his verdict.
“Sudden and catastrophic failure of the heart, Your Majesty”
Arthur simply nodded; it was obvious his thoughts were elsewhere. Morgana, sat beside him looked pale; it was clear she had been crying, but she had managed to compose herself, somehow.
Merlin hung back, as the court librarian approached Arthur. He could see Gwen, standing beside Morgana, and their eyes locked for a second. Gwen half attempted a reassuring smile, trying to hide the uncertainty from her eyes. Arthur may have been trained for that moment, but none of them had expected the King to die so suddenly. Merlin, with slightly more confidence in Arthur’s ability, smiled back. They’d get through this. Somehow.
“Your Majesty,” said the librarian, with a deep bow, then waited for Arthur to address him.
“Yes. I believe you have the documents required to certify my father’s death.”
The librarian nodded, and handed Arthur a parchment, he had hastily picked up when Merlin had called on him. Arthur looked over the parchment, and then towards Merlin.
“Merlin! I need the royal seal; you’ll find it in my father’s chambers. And be quick.”
Nice to see being King hasn’t changed him! grumbled Merlin, silently, as he made his way to the King’s chambers. Arthur’s chambers now, he realised with a dreadful thud. He’d have to move all of Arthur’s possessions, on his own no doubt.
When he returned, Gaius was signing the parchment; presumably the death certificate needed a physician’s confirmation. He brought the seal over to Arthur, who muttered his thanks, before returning to complete the parchment.
“Right, now what?” asked Arthur to his few assembled counsellors. He might have been prepared for the kingship from birth, but it was clear his wasn’t completely familiar with the correct protocol for assuming the throne.
“Envoys must be sent to the neighbouring lands.” Said the librarian, “it’s customary,” he added, when Arthur raised his eyebrows.
“The funeral arrangements,” said Morgana, speaking for the first time.
“And your coronation,” added Gaius.
“And your people,” said Merlin. “You need to address them, quash any inaccurate rumours, before they begin,” he quickly added. His eyes had met Arthur’s, the older man not yet used to such wisdom from his manservant, and friend. Merlin had spent so long hiding his magic, that he had suppressed other parts of his true self alongside his secret.
Arthur nodded, and thought for a few minutes, before giving his reply. “I have asked my Knights to assemble here; I shall ask them to visit our neighbours to relay our tidings of sorrow, after the King’s funeral. Tomorrow, at midday, I will address the people of Camelot, and announce the commencement of two weeks mourning. The King’s funeral will be held at sun down the following day, then our envoys can depart. My coronation can be held two weeks after my father’s burial.”
He already looks and acts like the King thought Merlin. And he would easily convince the people of Camelot of that fact. He just hoped nothing bad happened during the following two weeks, with Camelot without most of its Knights, and without a Crowned King.
“Ensure that the necessary arrangements are made” added Arthur finally, addressing every occupant of the room.
They knew it for the dismissal it was, and all left the hall, but Morgana, who was permitted to remain behind and listen to Arthur’s meeting with his Knights.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur seemed distant, when he eventually entered his rooms that evening. Merlin was in there removing Arthur’s ceremonial clothes from his wardrobe, so he could wash them in time for the funeral. Merlin knew Arthur had dined with Morgana, he had gleaned that morsel of information from Gwen, but he was still surprised by Arthur’s demeanour. The man seemed calm – too calm – is slightly tense. Arthur may be the new ruler of Camelot, but surely he should show some distress at the loss of his father? But Arthur was obviously reluctant to discuss any of that with Merlin, and swiftly dismissed the young man.
It was troubling Merlin, as he left Arthur’s chambers. Arthur had changed a lot in the seven long years they had known each other. From the arrogant adolescent, just coming of age, to a thoughtful adult nearing the end of his third decade, a man who had proven his leadership, at least on the battlefield, many times over, a man fully capable of ruling Camelot. But simply ruling Camelot wasn’t their destinies. They were to unite the lands of Albion, and reconcile that land with all its folk, including those of magical abilities. Including him.
The Dragon had told Merlin he would know when the time was right to reveal his magical abilities to Arthur, but that time still hadn’t come. Perhaps that was why his feet had carried him, not to his chambers, but to the Dragon’s cave, deep beneath the castle.
Ahh, young warlock. I’ve been expecting you. Even when Merlin was standing in front of the Dragon, his voice seemed to be inside his head.
“You know what has happened, then?”
The rule of Uther Pendragon has ended. You and Your Prince’s time is upon us.
“You don’t have any hints about what we’re supposed to do with this time?” asked Merlin, hopefully.
Arthur must unite the lands of Albion.
“Yes, but how? When?”
The Young are always so impatient.
Merlin declined to respond to that particular comment, but he thought he felt the Dragon sigh, before he responded.
War will fall upon Camelot, within the year. When the magic folk that Uther suppressed realise Arthur will be weary to act in the same way, some will come out from hiding to seek revenge. Others, seeing Arthur’s fairer treatment of all things magical will come out in support for him. Abruptly, the Dragon’s tone changed. Arthur must win that war. It is only then that he can unite Albion.
“And where do I fit into this.”
You, young warlock, have two tasks. Firstly, you must teach Arthur all you can about magic. Secondly, you must raise Excalibur from her watery grave, and place her where Arthur will need her, in his time of need.
“But Arthur doesn’t know what I am, yet.”
Then tell him, young warlock. Before it is too late.
With that, the dragon flew straight up, magically breaking the chains that imprisoned him.
Good luck, young warlock, were the last words Merlin heard as the Great Dragon left Camelot.
