When the battle finally came, they were ready for it. Magical beings were even starting to ally themselves with the army of Camelot. The Great Dragon, the last of the dragons, was one who took their side early on, and more joined as they marched down to the battlefield where Merlin had planted Excaliber, almost a year go to the day.
The terror and destruction Morgana’s followers had wrought had only served to strengthen Arthur’s side, but they were surprised to discover that, when the two armies squared of against each other, they were fairly evenly matched. Envoys were sent, and the battle was set to start at dawn, the next day.
Arthur’s tent was in the centre of the encampment, which had been built about an hour’s ride from the battle site. That evening, he and Merlin had a chance to talk, to discuss tactics, especially when it came to defeating their magical opponents. Morgana had brought with her beasts of the old religion. Beasts, Merlin knew, only Excaliber would kill.
“You see the outcrop,” Merlin pointed to the centre of the map, drawn for the King by his scouts.
“Stronghold?” Arthur asked.
Merlin nodded. “It could be valuable, the only area of high ground.”
“Archers” muttered the King. Merlin nodded. He thought he’d find it useful too, he could oversee the battle, direct his magic wherever it would be needed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At midnight, the forces assembled, prepared to ride to the battle site. Arthur didn’t notice Gwen slip into the fighters, but Merlin did.
“You can’t go out and fight, Gwen.”
“Why not? I love Camelot with all my heart, and I love her King. Why can’t I fight for it?”
“You love him, don’t you?” he asked.
She simply nodded. Merlin relented, needing no more persuasion. He was prepared to die for Arthur, and so was she. He couldn’t make that choice for her, how ever much he wanted to.
“Just don’t let him see you.” She nodded.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When the two sides met, at dawn, both sides made for the outcrop. It was a good position to hold, and Arthur’s forces eventually made it, but at a cost. Combatants were dying on both sides, in great numbers due to the magic being worked. Merlin fought as hard as any, trying to protect Arthur, to get him safely to Excaliber.
Eventually they made it, but Merlin had to find a way fro Arthur to need the sword. There, he saw it, a whispered incantation caused Arthur’s sword to become permanently lodged in the stomach of a magical beast. When Arthur looked round, sword less, Merlin pointed at the hilt implanted in the stone to his left.
“Don’t be silly Merlin; it’s stuck in the stone. Give me yours, you’re not using it.”
“Just try, Arthur.”
So Arthur did try, and he found the sword slid easily into his grasp. Merlin knew he’d ask questions later, but now he had to fight.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Merlin then became separated from Arthur, in the battle. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he knew he had to get to Morgana. She was the only one who could stop this now.
Suddenly he heard a scream, Gwen’s scream carried in the wind, across the battlefield. He saw her advisory pull his sword from her chest, and watched, in slow motion, as she fell.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur saw it happen too, and rushed to Gwen’s side. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he hadn’t even expected her to be there, but there she was, blood seeping from her chest, the dullness of her eyes. He couldn’t believer she was dead. He didn’t want to believe it. With the heat of the battle still pulsating around him, he had no time for grief, and he struggled to control the emotions threatening to pour out from him. Later, there would be time.
He threw himself back into the battle with renewed vigour, attempting to use it as vengeance for her death. It became a blinding haze as he confronted enemy after enemy, running so many of them through. Later, when he looked back, he wouldn’t know where he found the strength, wouldn’t even know how many he had killed, but for now he fought on. Fought, and fought, until he met a worthy advisory.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Merlin didn’t have time to watch Arthur fighting, didn’t have time to grieve for his friend, he was still ploughing through the fight trying to find Morgana. He knew she had to be there somewhere, he could feel the pull of her magic. He had thought about giving up, going back and giving Arthur a hand, but then, finally, there she was, in front of him.
Was it wrong that he just wanted to put his arms around her, and remember happier times? Remember the young lady she had been, the women he had known. He barely knew the figure standing in front of him now. She was radiating immense power, but that power was evil. He eyes were glowing red, constantly, they never changed. It was unnerving, he thought, as he stared at her.
“Why have you done this?” The din of the battle was such that she could not hear him, so he put his magic behind his words, and forced them into her mind.
“Why have you done this?”
It gave Merlin an almost unbearable headache, trying to talk to her; she had so many spells, so much evil going on in her mind that his mind, his good and still true mind, could hardly take it. When had she become so evil? She had not always been like that? Had the magic, the power of it, corrupted her?
“Why have you done this?”
He forced his words through, and finally she answered him.
“To teach him a lesson.” Merlin didn’t hear those words in his ears; he heard them in his mind. They were flat, completely devoid of all emotion. Hundreds of people had already died, Gwen included, and Merlin was already brimming with sorrow at there passing, but Morgana? Morgana, it would appear, felt nothing.
“You have killed so many people, Morgana. Just to teach him a lesson?”
“Would he have learnt it any other way?”
“But what is this message you so desperately want to teach Arthur?”
“Arthur must learn from his father’s mistake. He must learn that magic cannot be suppressed and punished and ignored.”
“Morgana, Arthur knows that. He has let magic into the kingdom. Slowly and quietly, granted, but no one’s be executed for any form of magic in almost a year now.”
Morgana didn’t reply. To Merlin, it looked as though she hadn’t even heard the comment. The two ex-lovers stared at each other. He wanted to avoid this fight if it was at all possible, but he could see her sizing him up. It was only a matter of time before she threw a spell at him.
“Chwsg!”
He threw his own spell at her first, his eyes flashing golden. Not a killing spell, he couldn’t kill the woman he had once loved, instead he put her into a deep and magical sleep, one only he could wake her up from. He couldn’t even leave her there, amongst the fighting and the death. Hardly aware of his actions, he levitated the sorceress, lifting her away from the battle field and hiding her behind some rocks. He would find her later when all this was over. Maybe he could talk some sense into her. Maybe Arthur could.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur, meanwhile, was fighting for his life. He had no command of sorcery, although he had learnt much about it, and his opponent was as cunning with his magic as he was with his sword. His swords, actually, there appeared to be two of them, except, Arthur had discovered, only one was real. But following which was real and which was the magical decoy was almost impossible, since this sorcerer kept switching hands. It appeared he could fight just as well left-handed as right.
Just at that moment, he misjudged the correct sword hand, and the blade caught him on the knee, causing him to slip. He tried to regain his footing, but before he knew it, he was on the ground, the sorcerer looming over him. He tried to lift his sword, his wonderful new sword that had helped him out countless times that battle, killing foes no other sword could conquer, but the sorcerer had him pinned. As the sorcerer trust his sword, down into Arthur’s chest, Arthur did not see his life flash before his eyes, he saw Camelot, falling into ruin without a ruler. And then the sorcerer stopped, and Arthur saw the point of a sword forced through the other man’s chest.
The sorcerer’s lifeless body was pushed off him, and a hand appeared in his vision to help him up. Lancelot’s hand.
“Your Majesty,” he acknowledged, before returning to the fight. Arthur could hardly believe the man who had faked nobility to become a Knight – one of the best fighters he had ever seen – had just saved his life.
But the heart of a battle is not a time for pleasantries and philosophy, and Arthur soon found himself fighting again, side to side with Lancelot. Together, the two men fought well, long and hard, until the battle was finally won.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There were so many bodies, scattered across the field, as two young men search for the women they had loved. Merlin found Morgana where he had hidden her, and sat watching her, silently debating the best course of action. This wasn’t the kind, gentle, noblewomen he had fell in love with; this was a corrupted, vindictive sorceress, one he surely could not trust, if he released her. And yet, Arthur would have her killed, and Merlin could not let that happen either. In his heart, he still hoped there would be redemption for Morgana. In his heart, he hated to admit, he still loved her, even though she was now his enemy. Hate and love, only a threadbredth apart from each other, it would always be the way.
He looked over at Arthur, bent over Gwen’s lifeless body, and back at Morgana. She had killed his friend, her friend to, once. Maybe if she knew that, she would try and make amends.
“Ddeffro”
He said it quietly, with a hand over her mouth, should she attempt to scream. She didn’t. Her eyes weren’t red any more, either. Maybe his spell had stopped all of hers.
“You killed Gwen,” he hissed. He hadn’t realised, before then, how angry he was with Morgana.
She was shocked, and unable to speak, since his hand was still clamped over her mouth. She could see in his eyes that it was the truth.
“You killed Gwen, you killed all these people, Morgana, how could you do that, how…” his voice broke, and he struggled to control the emotion threatening to drown him. His hand slipped from her mouth, but she didn’t scream.
“I didn’t mean to.” Those words came out quietly, full of the emotion she had lacked, earlier. He wanted to believe her, he really did, but he could see in her eyes, she only regretted on death, Gwen’s death.
“If you really mean that, leave this place and never come back. If I even hear about you again, Morgana, I’ll come after you.”
“But what about Arthur?” Merlin was confused for a second, he didn’t know why she appeared to be so scared, but then it hit him. Of course Arthur would want vengeance for Gwen’s death, he knew the pair were in love. He didn’t know that Morgana had known.
“Promise me that I will never hear from you again, and I will tell him you are dead.”
She nodded. “I promise you will never hear from me again.”
“Then go.” He could scarcely look at her, as she walked away. To everyone else in Camelot, Morgana was now dead. Only he knew the truth.
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Arthur, across the other side of the battle field, was openly weeping, something he had not done since he had been a child. He hadn’t openly wept at the loss of his father, although he had done so in private, but now, he couldn’t care less who was watching. Solider, sorcerer, Knight, it didn’t matter anymore. Guinevere, the only women he had ever truly loved, was dead.
The rage had consumed him in battle, and the grief would consume him in peace. He thought back to a night, almost a week ago now, to that one amazing night he had had with Gwen. On the night before they were due to leave Camelot, they had, finally, after years of skirting around the subject, given in to their feelings for each other. It had been pure ecstasy, being with Gwen, unlike all the other women he had been with before. And in the morning, waking up in his bed, there limbs tangled together, he had never been happier.
He would never be that happy again, he thought, as he cried. He had never even said those three little words, those three words he had realised he felt, that morning. He didn’t know why he had held his tongue, what purpose it could possibly solve, but he regretted it now.
“I love you, Guinevere,” he whispered, to her cold body.
No one dared to move the King, as they moved the other bodies. He didn’t notice, as funeral pyres were set up, burning the fallen, friend and foe alike. He didn’t notice the bright blue flames that burnt some of the magical beings, or the bright pink ones that burnt the Great Dragon, the last remaining dragon, who had given his life for Camelot. He didn’t notice anyone, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Merlin’s hand.
As Arthur looked up, he could see tears in his friend’s eyes too. Merlin had been trying to keep himself busy, to stay away from Arthur and Gwen. He didn’t want to have to grieve. But he was here now. It had taken him hours, and night was falling, but he was here now. All the other dead had been burnt, and they needed to know what the King wanted to do, if he wanted to risk the ride back, or pitch camp here. Many of the other fighters wanted to leave this place, with its traumatising memories, and its death.
“We have to go, Arthur, you have to leave her here.”
“Let the others go on. I want to stay.”
At first, Merlin was unsure what he meant, but then he knew. Arthur would leave Gwen here, but he wanted a private funeral for her. Merlin went to talk to some of the sergeants, then the pair watched as the other fighters departed, to the camp almost an hour’s ride away. Then, slowly, the two men built a funeral pyre. A proper one, unlike the quick mass pyres most of the fallen combatants had been burnt on.
“I loved her, you know.” Arthur said, almost absentmindedly when they finished. His tears had ceased now, he had no more left to give. Merlin threw his arm around the King’s shoulder, and let his lean on him, the two friends supporting each other in their grief.
“She should have had more time, she was young. I shouldn’t have let her fight.”
“She wanted to fight,” reminded Merlin. “She wanted to fight, for her country, for her King. She loved you too.”
Arthur simply nodded. He didn’t know what else to say. The woman he loved was dead.
“God rest you, Gwen.”
Merlin’s words were enough, and, with a muttered incantation, he raised the flames that would carry her to the afterlife.
Both men stayed, silently watching, well into the night, until the fire had completely died. They had won the battle, and from that battle would come peace and prosperity, a unity between magic and Camelot, and the reunification of Albion, but neither of them knew that yet.
All they had was their grief.
The terror and destruction Morgana’s followers had wrought had only served to strengthen Arthur’s side, but they were surprised to discover that, when the two armies squared of against each other, they were fairly evenly matched. Envoys were sent, and the battle was set to start at dawn, the next day.
Arthur’s tent was in the centre of the encampment, which had been built about an hour’s ride from the battle site. That evening, he and Merlin had a chance to talk, to discuss tactics, especially when it came to defeating their magical opponents. Morgana had brought with her beasts of the old religion. Beasts, Merlin knew, only Excaliber would kill.
“You see the outcrop,” Merlin pointed to the centre of the map, drawn for the King by his scouts.
“Stronghold?” Arthur asked.
Merlin nodded. “It could be valuable, the only area of high ground.”
“Archers” muttered the King. Merlin nodded. He thought he’d find it useful too, he could oversee the battle, direct his magic wherever it would be needed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At midnight, the forces assembled, prepared to ride to the battle site. Arthur didn’t notice Gwen slip into the fighters, but Merlin did.
“You can’t go out and fight, Gwen.”
“Why not? I love Camelot with all my heart, and I love her King. Why can’t I fight for it?”
“You love him, don’t you?” he asked.
She simply nodded. Merlin relented, needing no more persuasion. He was prepared to die for Arthur, and so was she. He couldn’t make that choice for her, how ever much he wanted to.
“Just don’t let him see you.” She nodded.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When the two sides met, at dawn, both sides made for the outcrop. It was a good position to hold, and Arthur’s forces eventually made it, but at a cost. Combatants were dying on both sides, in great numbers due to the magic being worked. Merlin fought as hard as any, trying to protect Arthur, to get him safely to Excaliber.
Eventually they made it, but Merlin had to find a way fro Arthur to need the sword. There, he saw it, a whispered incantation caused Arthur’s sword to become permanently lodged in the stomach of a magical beast. When Arthur looked round, sword less, Merlin pointed at the hilt implanted in the stone to his left.
“Don’t be silly Merlin; it’s stuck in the stone. Give me yours, you’re not using it.”
“Just try, Arthur.”
So Arthur did try, and he found the sword slid easily into his grasp. Merlin knew he’d ask questions later, but now he had to fight.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Merlin then became separated from Arthur, in the battle. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he knew he had to get to Morgana. She was the only one who could stop this now.
Suddenly he heard a scream, Gwen’s scream carried in the wind, across the battlefield. He saw her advisory pull his sword from her chest, and watched, in slow motion, as she fell.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur saw it happen too, and rushed to Gwen’s side. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he hadn’t even expected her to be there, but there she was, blood seeping from her chest, the dullness of her eyes. He couldn’t believer she was dead. He didn’t want to believe it. With the heat of the battle still pulsating around him, he had no time for grief, and he struggled to control the emotions threatening to pour out from him. Later, there would be time.
He threw himself back into the battle with renewed vigour, attempting to use it as vengeance for her death. It became a blinding haze as he confronted enemy after enemy, running so many of them through. Later, when he looked back, he wouldn’t know where he found the strength, wouldn’t even know how many he had killed, but for now he fought on. Fought, and fought, until he met a worthy advisory.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Merlin didn’t have time to watch Arthur fighting, didn’t have time to grieve for his friend, he was still ploughing through the fight trying to find Morgana. He knew she had to be there somewhere, he could feel the pull of her magic. He had thought about giving up, going back and giving Arthur a hand, but then, finally, there she was, in front of him.
Was it wrong that he just wanted to put his arms around her, and remember happier times? Remember the young lady she had been, the women he had known. He barely knew the figure standing in front of him now. She was radiating immense power, but that power was evil. He eyes were glowing red, constantly, they never changed. It was unnerving, he thought, as he stared at her.
“Why have you done this?” The din of the battle was such that she could not hear him, so he put his magic behind his words, and forced them into her mind.
“Why have you done this?”
It gave Merlin an almost unbearable headache, trying to talk to her; she had so many spells, so much evil going on in her mind that his mind, his good and still true mind, could hardly take it. When had she become so evil? She had not always been like that? Had the magic, the power of it, corrupted her?
“Why have you done this?”
He forced his words through, and finally she answered him.
“To teach him a lesson.” Merlin didn’t hear those words in his ears; he heard them in his mind. They were flat, completely devoid of all emotion. Hundreds of people had already died, Gwen included, and Merlin was already brimming with sorrow at there passing, but Morgana? Morgana, it would appear, felt nothing.
“You have killed so many people, Morgana. Just to teach him a lesson?”
“Would he have learnt it any other way?”
“But what is this message you so desperately want to teach Arthur?”
“Arthur must learn from his father’s mistake. He must learn that magic cannot be suppressed and punished and ignored.”
“Morgana, Arthur knows that. He has let magic into the kingdom. Slowly and quietly, granted, but no one’s be executed for any form of magic in almost a year now.”
Morgana didn’t reply. To Merlin, it looked as though she hadn’t even heard the comment. The two ex-lovers stared at each other. He wanted to avoid this fight if it was at all possible, but he could see her sizing him up. It was only a matter of time before she threw a spell at him.
“Chwsg!”
He threw his own spell at her first, his eyes flashing golden. Not a killing spell, he couldn’t kill the woman he had once loved, instead he put her into a deep and magical sleep, one only he could wake her up from. He couldn’t even leave her there, amongst the fighting and the death. Hardly aware of his actions, he levitated the sorceress, lifting her away from the battle field and hiding her behind some rocks. He would find her later when all this was over. Maybe he could talk some sense into her. Maybe Arthur could.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur, meanwhile, was fighting for his life. He had no command of sorcery, although he had learnt much about it, and his opponent was as cunning with his magic as he was with his sword. His swords, actually, there appeared to be two of them, except, Arthur had discovered, only one was real. But following which was real and which was the magical decoy was almost impossible, since this sorcerer kept switching hands. It appeared he could fight just as well left-handed as right.
Just at that moment, he misjudged the correct sword hand, and the blade caught him on the knee, causing him to slip. He tried to regain his footing, but before he knew it, he was on the ground, the sorcerer looming over him. He tried to lift his sword, his wonderful new sword that had helped him out countless times that battle, killing foes no other sword could conquer, but the sorcerer had him pinned. As the sorcerer trust his sword, down into Arthur’s chest, Arthur did not see his life flash before his eyes, he saw Camelot, falling into ruin without a ruler. And then the sorcerer stopped, and Arthur saw the point of a sword forced through the other man’s chest.
The sorcerer’s lifeless body was pushed off him, and a hand appeared in his vision to help him up. Lancelot’s hand.
“Your Majesty,” he acknowledged, before returning to the fight. Arthur could hardly believe the man who had faked nobility to become a Knight – one of the best fighters he had ever seen – had just saved his life.
But the heart of a battle is not a time for pleasantries and philosophy, and Arthur soon found himself fighting again, side to side with Lancelot. Together, the two men fought well, long and hard, until the battle was finally won.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There were so many bodies, scattered across the field, as two young men search for the women they had loved. Merlin found Morgana where he had hidden her, and sat watching her, silently debating the best course of action. This wasn’t the kind, gentle, noblewomen he had fell in love with; this was a corrupted, vindictive sorceress, one he surely could not trust, if he released her. And yet, Arthur would have her killed, and Merlin could not let that happen either. In his heart, he still hoped there would be redemption for Morgana. In his heart, he hated to admit, he still loved her, even though she was now his enemy. Hate and love, only a threadbredth apart from each other, it would always be the way.
He looked over at Arthur, bent over Gwen’s lifeless body, and back at Morgana. She had killed his friend, her friend to, once. Maybe if she knew that, she would try and make amends.
“Ddeffro”
He said it quietly, with a hand over her mouth, should she attempt to scream. She didn’t. Her eyes weren’t red any more, either. Maybe his spell had stopped all of hers.
“You killed Gwen,” he hissed. He hadn’t realised, before then, how angry he was with Morgana.
She was shocked, and unable to speak, since his hand was still clamped over her mouth. She could see in his eyes that it was the truth.
“You killed Gwen, you killed all these people, Morgana, how could you do that, how…” his voice broke, and he struggled to control the emotion threatening to drown him. His hand slipped from her mouth, but she didn’t scream.
“I didn’t mean to.” Those words came out quietly, full of the emotion she had lacked, earlier. He wanted to believe her, he really did, but he could see in her eyes, she only regretted on death, Gwen’s death.
“If you really mean that, leave this place and never come back. If I even hear about you again, Morgana, I’ll come after you.”
“But what about Arthur?” Merlin was confused for a second, he didn’t know why she appeared to be so scared, but then it hit him. Of course Arthur would want vengeance for Gwen’s death, he knew the pair were in love. He didn’t know that Morgana had known.
“Promise me that I will never hear from you again, and I will tell him you are dead.”
She nodded. “I promise you will never hear from me again.”
“Then go.” He could scarcely look at her, as she walked away. To everyone else in Camelot, Morgana was now dead. Only he knew the truth.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur, across the other side of the battle field, was openly weeping, something he had not done since he had been a child. He hadn’t openly wept at the loss of his father, although he had done so in private, but now, he couldn’t care less who was watching. Solider, sorcerer, Knight, it didn’t matter anymore. Guinevere, the only women he had ever truly loved, was dead.
The rage had consumed him in battle, and the grief would consume him in peace. He thought back to a night, almost a week ago now, to that one amazing night he had had with Gwen. On the night before they were due to leave Camelot, they had, finally, after years of skirting around the subject, given in to their feelings for each other. It had been pure ecstasy, being with Gwen, unlike all the other women he had been with before. And in the morning, waking up in his bed, there limbs tangled together, he had never been happier.
He would never be that happy again, he thought, as he cried. He had never even said those three little words, those three words he had realised he felt, that morning. He didn’t know why he had held his tongue, what purpose it could possibly solve, but he regretted it now.
“I love you, Guinevere,” he whispered, to her cold body.
No one dared to move the King, as they moved the other bodies. He didn’t notice, as funeral pyres were set up, burning the fallen, friend and foe alike. He didn’t notice the bright blue flames that burnt some of the magical beings, or the bright pink ones that burnt the Great Dragon, the last remaining dragon, who had given his life for Camelot. He didn’t notice anyone, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Merlin’s hand.
As Arthur looked up, he could see tears in his friend’s eyes too. Merlin had been trying to keep himself busy, to stay away from Arthur and Gwen. He didn’t want to have to grieve. But he was here now. It had taken him hours, and night was falling, but he was here now. All the other dead had been burnt, and they needed to know what the King wanted to do, if he wanted to risk the ride back, or pitch camp here. Many of the other fighters wanted to leave this place, with its traumatising memories, and its death.
“We have to go, Arthur, you have to leave her here.”
“Let the others go on. I want to stay.”
At first, Merlin was unsure what he meant, but then he knew. Arthur would leave Gwen here, but he wanted a private funeral for her. Merlin went to talk to some of the sergeants, then the pair watched as the other fighters departed, to the camp almost an hour’s ride away. Then, slowly, the two men built a funeral pyre. A proper one, unlike the quick mass pyres most of the fallen combatants had been burnt on.
“I loved her, you know.” Arthur said, almost absentmindedly when they finished. His tears had ceased now, he had no more left to give. Merlin threw his arm around the King’s shoulder, and let his lean on him, the two friends supporting each other in their grief.
“She should have had more time, she was young. I shouldn’t have let her fight.”
“She wanted to fight,” reminded Merlin. “She wanted to fight, for her country, for her King. She loved you too.”
Arthur simply nodded. He didn’t know what else to say. The woman he loved was dead.
“God rest you, Gwen.”
Merlin’s words were enough, and, with a muttered incantation, he raised the flames that would carry her to the afterlife.
Both men stayed, silently watching, well into the night, until the fire had completely died. They had won the battle, and from that battle would come peace and prosperity, a unity between magic and Camelot, and the reunification of Albion, but neither of them knew that yet.
All they had was their grief.
