claire_debonair (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
claire_debonair) wrote2008-12-24 01:29 am
claire_debonair) wrote2008-12-24 01:29 am
Entry tags:
Dewiniaeth - Part Five
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four
Arthur wakes with the dawn again, and finds Merlin in his bed for the second time in as many days. This time, though, he's already awake, sitting up. He turns and glances down at Arthur, smile wide and happy. "Morning, lazy."
"Mmm." Arthur stretches languidly. "I'm allowed to be. What are you doing?"
"Being me."
"I'm a little worried that I know exactly what you mean." Merlin settles back as Arthur sits up and shifts forward to lean against his back, resting his head on Merlin's bare shoulder. "Shouldn't you be out of bed by now? You've got chores to do."
"I don't have to get out of bed to do them, though, unless you order me not to use magic." Arthur shivers at the idea of more magic, morning hardness increasing somewhat. Merlin laughs. "I can see we're going to have to work on that. Not exactly the ideal reaction if you see me using magic to aid in a battle."
"Use it now," Arthur says, lips moving against the vivid bitemark on Merlin's shoulder from last night. It sits an inch or two below the mark Arthur had made on Merlin's neck a bare two days ago. Arthur finds he likes the brands. He wraps his arms around Merlin's waist and flicks his tongue over them in turn before returning to rest his chin on a pale shoulder.
"As you desire, my lord." Gods, Merlin makes even the simplest of obediences seem filthy. His hand raises, palm facing the room at large, and the gravelly syllables spill from his tongue and slide down Arthur's spine.
Clothes jump into the air, stains and creases vanishing slowly before they fold themselves and return to chests and wardrobes. The remains of many meals turn to dust and are tilted by their plates into the fire that yet again has burnt through the night, aided by magic. Candles trim themselves and unsightly dribbles of wax remove themselves.
By the time the room is at the state of cleanliness Arthur has come to expect when Merlin does eventually get his act together he's shaking with trying to control the urge to tip Merlin forward and take him on his hands and knees, making him face the evidence of what his magic can do and feeling what it does to Arthur.
Arthur whispers what he wants to do, and more, into Merlin's ear as his hands glide over smooth skin and dip under the sheets pooled around Merlin's waist.
Merlin's voice still holds some of the roughness Arthur irrevocably associates with magic when he reaches back to wrap his hand behind Arthur's neck and make another suggestion.
Arthur gets fucked to the sounds of his armour cleaning itself.
—-
One remarkably quiet (in public, at least; Arthur's bedchamber is another matter) week later Morgana pulls Merlin into her rooms. She's pallid instead of pale, surpassing even Merlin's untanned complexion, and looks less polished than usual.
"I need to tell you something," she begins, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Merlin feels the first stirrings of unease; she doesn't tend to be hesitant like this, wearing her emotions clearly. "But I need to know you won't think any differently of me once I do."
They're almost exactly the same words Merlin had rehearsed for when he told Arthur about his own magic, before Nimueh had negated the need for such things as words. He reaches out and places his hands over hers, stopping her twisting the trailing sleeve of her dress into a wreck that will make Gwen cry.
"Morgana, whatever you say, I will not think anything less of you." Merlin swallows hard. "I only ask that you do the same for me." Her eyes are penetratingly bright when she looks at him, and he can practically hear the pieces falling into place for her.
She nods decisively and clasps his hands with hers. "I dreamt of you. In the woods, a hollow darkened and fouled by evil magic. There was a woman - a sorceress - and a cave. She waits and schemes, planning for your death." Her voice grows increasingly desperate. "Merlin, I saw you enter the hollow and die by her magic. You could not defend yourself."
"Did you see why not?"
"Some spell; I don't know the nature of it." She looks at him, scared but defiant. "I would not have told you this, because I know you will travel there, but something told me I must."
Merlin nods, smiling wryly. "It's probably something to do with my Destiny."
"Ah. Destiny. That old thing." They share a smile that borders on amusement, then Merlin bows over their hands. Morgana sighs. "You go there now?"
"Best to get it over with."
"If you don't tell Arthur he won't forgive you, however small such a thing may seem to you."
"Then I'll be leaving tomorrow; there's that damn feast tonight. How many feasts do you need to celebrate Harvest, anyway?"
Morgana rolls her eyes. "Two too many, by my reckoning, but Uther likes a show."
She hugs Merlin briefly before he leaves, her dark eyes the only thing showing her worries about his plans. Merlin smiles as cheerfully as he can manage and goes to find Arthur to tell him, without mentioning Morgana, about Nimueh.
—-
Arthur refuses point blank to go to the feast. He tells his father in no uncertain terms that he won't be attending, to which Uther apparently replies with an understanding nod and a reminder to be prompt to morning training. Merlin has to take Arthur's word for it, because the prince had stormed out of the room and gone before Merlin could even blink.
They ride out at dusk when anyone who would raise questions is inside and occupied with the first course; the people of the town don't spare the Crown Prince and his manservant a second glance, even if they are leaving when Arthur should be in his seat next to Uther.
Merlin's riding has improved enough for them to set a fast pace through the trees even in the dark, and for once Arthur can't make a comment about Merlin's abysmal navigational skills because he gives him no chance to; even allowing for the effect of time on his memories of the path Gwen and he had taken to the hollow three months ago, Merlin unerringly leads them to it.
It's obvious they're near the right place after an hour of riding. The waves of dark magic emanating from the cave Merlin can barely distinguish as a darker patch of blackness in the cliff bordering one edge of the hollow make him feel nauseous, to the extent that he has to lean over the side of his saddle to retch.
"Merlin?" Arthur's hand is warm on his back, comforting and grounding.
"Can't you feel that?"
Arthur looks ahead, concentrating. After a pause he replies: "What the hell is that?" He straightens his shoulders, missing the weight of his armour. "It's like... slime, crawling over my skin."
"Dark magic." Merlin spits, tries to clear his mouth of the taste of it. "Remember how it feels; it'll help you tell the difference in the future." He sounds different even to himself, sure and strong in a way he rarely feels, let alone sounds. Arthur's expression is dark, angry and something more private.
"It didn't feel like this the other night."
"That's because it was only a tiny thread, outweighed by my own magic and that of the dragon." Arthur nods and starts to dismount. "Arthur, no."
"I'm coming with you."
"I have to do this on my own-"
"Because of your sodding Destiny?" The last of the light faded as they entered the thicker foliage of the oldest part of the forest, and it's as hard to see Arthur as it is to see the cave. Nevertheless, Merlin can just make out the angry set of his jaw.
"No, because of my sodding pride. I'm sure you understand that," snaps Merlin, then wishes he hadn't. Arthur's horse whinnies softly and skitters as he unconsciously tightens the reins. Merlin waits; he won't go to his possible death with anger the last emotion expressed. At last Arthur sighs.
"Alright. But here, take this." He pulls his long dagger free of its sheath and hands it to Merlin hilt first, fingers confident and capable even so close to the perilous blade. "You said she'd have a spell waiting for you, so she clearly has some faith in your sorcery. She probably won't have any in your combat skills, so this might-" Arthur cuts himself off, but Merlin knows what he was about to say.
This might help you last a little longer.
Merlin takes it carefully and nods, holding it well out of the way as he dismounts. Tendrils of foul magic curl curiously around him then withdraw sharply; Nimueh knows he's here. The creaking of leather and faint jangling of a harness makes him turn to see Arthur striding towards him.
Merlin flails as Arthur kisses him hard, momentarily worried about the dagger in his hand until Arthur wraps a hand around his wrist and keeps it firmly by his side. Merlin curves his other hand over Arthur's hip, pulling him close as Arthur does the same thing with Merlin's neck. They break apart, panting, and Arthur steps back jerkily.
"Go. I'll wait here."
Merlin hesitates, but after the struggle he had to get Arthur to leave when he was changing back knows it's a lost cause to try and make Arthur get to a safe distance just in case. Instead he nods, feeling far more like the warlock the dragon insists he is to become than he ever has before.
Heading down into the hollow proper, and to the threshold of the cave is easy, but once he reaches the entrance he starts to feel weighed down, as if he's walking through air as thick as Arthur's last attempt at making porridge. He has to force his legs to keep moving and step into the cave, but when he does his magic-
Stops.
Merlin halts, hands gripping the dagger's hilt so tightly pain shoots up his arm. He shuts his eyes and tries to remember anything the dragon has said about sensing the magic within him, a laughable concept when he was in that other cave, but here and now it provides a slight measure of hope.
A few moments later, in which his hatred of Nimueh and her methods coalesces into more manageable and useful contempt, Merlin finally feels the faint stirrings of his powers. They're not gone, as he'd feared, but dampened down like a charcoal fire. He can't undo whatever it is that Nimueh has done, hasn't the training.
He's got no choice but to continue without his magic, as she had planned.
Merlin's not a coward, whatever accusations Arthur may once have thrown at him, so he presses on down the rock tunnel, heading towards the source of dark magic that he can still (sadly) feel against his skin and taste at the back of his throat.
—-
Nimueh is waiting for him when he rounds the final twist and reaches the inner chamber of the cave. It's not natural, the smoothness of the walls and the carvings on them making that much evident as soon as he walks in. The taint of magic extends to the rock itself in here, surrounding Merlin in a cocoon of wrongness that makes him want to gag.
The sorceress is standing behind a tall pillar of rock that Merlin would liken to the font of a church if it were not such a patently ridiculous comparison, scarlet mouth curving into a mocking smile. "Emrys." She bows her head in faint tribute.
"Nimueh."
"What brings you here, when you knew what I had prepared?" She trails her fingers through the water in the cradle of stone in front of her, a clear threat that she was, and will always be, watching him.
"You know why."
"The young Pendragon, yes." Her words match the dragon's, but where his were grudgingly respectful, bordering on fond, Nimueh's are derisive. "Are you really willing to risk your life in an attempt to make me pay for trying to get my revenge?" Merlin stays silent, keeping the dagger out of sight in the shadows behind him. "You could join me, you know."
"Become like you?"
Nimueh smiles, steps around the rock pillar and walks slowly towards him. "And what is so wrong with that? We both know I am not your match in terms of raw power, but when it comes to knowing what to do with that power I am by far your superior." She's close now, standing just out of striking distance to raise her arms to her sides and increase the magic in the air.
"I could teach you, train you to be the most powerful warlock this land has ever seen. You could rule, Merlin; you could make it so that we magic users would not have to hide and skulk in the shadows anymore."
"And the price?" Merlin yells, "The price I pay, what would that be?"
"Knowledge is worth any price," she returns, voice low and filled with power that makes Merlin's knees weak and his head throb. "It is worth the deaths of the Pendragons and their oppressive laws. Their deaths will be the start of a new reign, the reign of magic!"
A rumbling fills the cave, the sound of powerful sorcery being wrought. Merlin pulls together the last of his strength, thinking of Arthur out in the forest, waiting for him, and strikes.
The dagger slashes at Nimueh's arm, makes her cry out and look at him with eyes that are practically all pupil. Merlin lashes out again, driving her back into the centre of the cave with a series of jabs that Arthur had taught him in the hope that Merlin would be able to hold off an attacker long enough for Arthur to reach him.
The pain of Merlin's unexpected attack weakens Nimueh's hold on her spells, freeing Merlin's magic in an intense flood. He reaches for it, trying to think of something, anything, that he can do to stop her. She's recovering from the first shock, gathering her power and preparing to strike back.
He won't let her, not this time.
"You will not" he shouts, the rock reverberating with the magic in his voice, "kill Arthur. Not while I am here to protect him."
With that, he pulls down the ceiling of the cave.
Tons of rock grind and tremble, caught above their heads by Merlin's magic for a brief moment. Then they come thundering down, Merlin making sure to direct a few boulders specifically onto the rock bowl she used to spy on them all. Nimueh throws up a hasty barrier, protecting herself from the worst of the fall, but Merlin can see weaknesses in it and know it's not going to last long.
He scrambles back to the tunnel, his own instinctive shield holding thanks to the adrenaline fuelling his hold on his magic. Behind him Nimueh's screams blend with the screeching of rock against rock, the sounds and smaller falls following him out of the tunnel and across the hollow. Merlin stumbles, reaches out a hand to break his fall but is not surprised to find himself caught and held by strong arms instead.
They stand together and watch a plume of stone dust billow out of the rapidly disappearing cave entrance, Nimueh's exhortations of rage and fragments of spells cut off as the cave finally vanishes with a final ground-shaking rumble. Arthur's arm is almost painfully tight around Merlin's waist, but it feels right.
"That was actually pretty impressive." Arthur's voice shakes enough to show the major understatement of his comment. Merlin grins.
"Glad you liked it. I'm not completely incompetent, you know."
"I'm learning." Arthur pulls Merlin round to face him, eyes faint spots of white in the darkness. "Can you give us some light?"
"Would a glowing ball of blue magic-stuff be okay?"
"More than." Merlin flicks his fingers, the magic leaping to form an orb bright enough to see as if it's still daytime. Arthur is looking at him, eyes searching his face as soon as the glow hits it. Warm fingers trace feather-light over his face, looking for cuts that aren't there, trailing down his face to brush over his lips. Arthur pauses, fingers pressed so barely against Merlin's lower lip that he can only just feel it.
"You're an idiot," he says softly, eyes never leaving Merlin's, "going in there like that. If you'd died-" He can't carry that on any further, can't make that admission.
At least, not yet.
Merlin saves him further agony by pulling back enough to hand Arthur the dagger he'd miraculously managed to keep hold of. "Yet again, it's your fault that I'm alive. This came in very useful."
Arthur stares at it for a long moment, running a fingertip along the top of one of the edges. Merlin knows what has him frowning; there's no blood on it, even though Nimueh had bled freely from her wounds. He slides it back into it's sheath, shoulders relaxing.
"We should return to Camelot." He casts a look toward what was once a cave, still exuding the odd boom as the rock settles. "Is it safe to leave this as it is?"
"As safe as it ever is to leave a fresh rockfall." Arthur rolls his eyes. "If she's alive, she can't get out. Whatever power she had stored in the rocks has gone, broken with the cave. She's got no powers other than what she has inside her, and from what I could tell that wasn't much."
"Fine. We'll come back and see in daylight."
Arthur guides them to the horses, which he'd had to move further back for fear that they would bolt when the first rumbles of falling rock had begun. Merlin pauses with one hand on his saddle, looking back. "I think I know a binding spell that might lock her in there; I'll have to ask Gaius, but I'm fairly certain it'll work."
"Good," says Arthur with a grunt, swinging himself into his own saddle. "The less we see of that witch, the better."
They ride for a while, the blue light bobbing gently in front of them with just enough light to ensure they stay on the path and don't hit any trees. Merlin lets them put some distance between themselves and the cave before asking a question.
"Will you miss me being a girl?"
Arthur glances swiftly at him, then returns his gaze to the ground in front. The corners of his mouth twitch slightly as he answers. "Not especially. I prefer this you. Although," he adds with a teasing note, "you as a girl did seem to be a much better servant. I liked that."
"Is that all you liked, sire?" Even at a mild distance and while riding a horse Merlin can see the shiver that runs through Arthur at the way he says the title.
"No, and you know it."
"Oh good. Because I know a spell that'll turn me into a girl again - temporarily, thank the gods - and I thought it'd be fun to try." Merlin refrains from mentioning he's already tried it; somehow, he imagines that his childish use of the incantation to even the numbers at the May Day dance won't compare to his use of it now.
"Fun. Of course." Arthur sounds strangled, kicking his horse into a faster trot. Merlin grins, the blue light giving it a devilish look.
The ride passes in silence, Merlin leaving Arthur to his no doubt entertaining thoughts.
—-
Whatever Arthur tells his father about their late-night excursion, it involves something of what occurred with Nimueh, because the next morning Merlin is summoned to see the king.
Uther sits in his throne, the great hall ringed with clerks and petitioners hoping for him to solve various petty disputes. Merlin follows Gaius to stand by the king's side, the physician waiting for a lull in the clamour of noise to clear his throat and motion Merlin forward. Uther looks at him consideringly.
"My son has informed me of your bravery when attacked by the sorceress last night." He avoids her name, Merlin notes not for the first time and longs to know why. "I refrained from asking him what the two of you were doing out so late, and on a feast-night too; I have the feeling I would like the answer as much as I like the thought of that woman in my lands again."
Merlin swallows and hopes nothing shows on his face. Uther continues.
"I, like my son, commend your bravery in luring her into an unstable cave. Such an act has most likely rid Albion of a sincere menace, and will not go unrewarded." Merlin thinks back to the last time he was awarded for his bravery and coughs nervously.
"That's really not necessary, your majesty. I just acted as I thought best."
"And saved this kingdom in the process." Well, he can't exactly argue there, knowledge is worth any price, worth the deaths of the Pendragons and their oppressive laws. Their deaths will be the start of a new reign, the reign of magic appearing in his mind like a particularly gruesome echo. "Consider what you would like, and return when you have an answer."
He's dismissed with a wave of one regal hand, and follows Gaius back to their chambers.
Gaius seats himself behind a merrily bubbling bowl of something Merlin really doesn‘t want to know the exact ingredients of, and eyes him. "What?"
"I'm wondering what you're going to ask for."
Merlin thinks about it, absently setting the jars of potion ingredients to tidy themselves away onto the right shelves as he replaces books and clears the table of general detritus around where Gaius is working. He thinks about the dragon's predictions of a glorious destiny, thinks about the thread of reluctant respect that had crept into Nimueh's voice when she had spoken about the strength of his powers.
Then he hears the distant sound of Arthur in the courtyard below, voice raised as he drills his knights, and thinks about them, the things they've done to each other, the things they will do to each other, and the things they will achieve.
He thinks about the magic he has yet to show Arthur, what it can do, what it already does to the prince, and how much more it's going to do.
He thinks about Merlin and Arthur, and turns to smile at a waiting Gaius.
"Nothing. I've already got everything I want."
♥
Arthur wakes with the dawn again, and finds Merlin in his bed for the second time in as many days. This time, though, he's already awake, sitting up. He turns and glances down at Arthur, smile wide and happy. "Morning, lazy."
"Mmm." Arthur stretches languidly. "I'm allowed to be. What are you doing?"
"Being me."
"I'm a little worried that I know exactly what you mean." Merlin settles back as Arthur sits up and shifts forward to lean against his back, resting his head on Merlin's bare shoulder. "Shouldn't you be out of bed by now? You've got chores to do."
"I don't have to get out of bed to do them, though, unless you order me not to use magic." Arthur shivers at the idea of more magic, morning hardness increasing somewhat. Merlin laughs. "I can see we're going to have to work on that. Not exactly the ideal reaction if you see me using magic to aid in a battle."
"Use it now," Arthur says, lips moving against the vivid bitemark on Merlin's shoulder from last night. It sits an inch or two below the mark Arthur had made on Merlin's neck a bare two days ago. Arthur finds he likes the brands. He wraps his arms around Merlin's waist and flicks his tongue over them in turn before returning to rest his chin on a pale shoulder.
"As you desire, my lord." Gods, Merlin makes even the simplest of obediences seem filthy. His hand raises, palm facing the room at large, and the gravelly syllables spill from his tongue and slide down Arthur's spine.
Clothes jump into the air, stains and creases vanishing slowly before they fold themselves and return to chests and wardrobes. The remains of many meals turn to dust and are tilted by their plates into the fire that yet again has burnt through the night, aided by magic. Candles trim themselves and unsightly dribbles of wax remove themselves.
By the time the room is at the state of cleanliness Arthur has come to expect when Merlin does eventually get his act together he's shaking with trying to control the urge to tip Merlin forward and take him on his hands and knees, making him face the evidence of what his magic can do and feeling what it does to Arthur.
Arthur whispers what he wants to do, and more, into Merlin's ear as his hands glide over smooth skin and dip under the sheets pooled around Merlin's waist.
Merlin's voice still holds some of the roughness Arthur irrevocably associates with magic when he reaches back to wrap his hand behind Arthur's neck and make another suggestion.
Arthur gets fucked to the sounds of his armour cleaning itself.
—-
One remarkably quiet (in public, at least; Arthur's bedchamber is another matter) week later Morgana pulls Merlin into her rooms. She's pallid instead of pale, surpassing even Merlin's untanned complexion, and looks less polished than usual.
"I need to tell you something," she begins, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Merlin feels the first stirrings of unease; she doesn't tend to be hesitant like this, wearing her emotions clearly. "But I need to know you won't think any differently of me once I do."
They're almost exactly the same words Merlin had rehearsed for when he told Arthur about his own magic, before Nimueh had negated the need for such things as words. He reaches out and places his hands over hers, stopping her twisting the trailing sleeve of her dress into a wreck that will make Gwen cry.
"Morgana, whatever you say, I will not think anything less of you." Merlin swallows hard. "I only ask that you do the same for me." Her eyes are penetratingly bright when she looks at him, and he can practically hear the pieces falling into place for her.
She nods decisively and clasps his hands with hers. "I dreamt of you. In the woods, a hollow darkened and fouled by evil magic. There was a woman - a sorceress - and a cave. She waits and schemes, planning for your death." Her voice grows increasingly desperate. "Merlin, I saw you enter the hollow and die by her magic. You could not defend yourself."
"Did you see why not?"
"Some spell; I don't know the nature of it." She looks at him, scared but defiant. "I would not have told you this, because I know you will travel there, but something told me I must."
Merlin nods, smiling wryly. "It's probably something to do with my Destiny."
"Ah. Destiny. That old thing." They share a smile that borders on amusement, then Merlin bows over their hands. Morgana sighs. "You go there now?"
"Best to get it over with."
"If you don't tell Arthur he won't forgive you, however small such a thing may seem to you."
"Then I'll be leaving tomorrow; there's that damn feast tonight. How many feasts do you need to celebrate Harvest, anyway?"
Morgana rolls her eyes. "Two too many, by my reckoning, but Uther likes a show."
She hugs Merlin briefly before he leaves, her dark eyes the only thing showing her worries about his plans. Merlin smiles as cheerfully as he can manage and goes to find Arthur to tell him, without mentioning Morgana, about Nimueh.
—-
Arthur refuses point blank to go to the feast. He tells his father in no uncertain terms that he won't be attending, to which Uther apparently replies with an understanding nod and a reminder to be prompt to morning training. Merlin has to take Arthur's word for it, because the prince had stormed out of the room and gone before Merlin could even blink.
They ride out at dusk when anyone who would raise questions is inside and occupied with the first course; the people of the town don't spare the Crown Prince and his manservant a second glance, even if they are leaving when Arthur should be in his seat next to Uther.
Merlin's riding has improved enough for them to set a fast pace through the trees even in the dark, and for once Arthur can't make a comment about Merlin's abysmal navigational skills because he gives him no chance to; even allowing for the effect of time on his memories of the path Gwen and he had taken to the hollow three months ago, Merlin unerringly leads them to it.
It's obvious they're near the right place after an hour of riding. The waves of dark magic emanating from the cave Merlin can barely distinguish as a darker patch of blackness in the cliff bordering one edge of the hollow make him feel nauseous, to the extent that he has to lean over the side of his saddle to retch.
"Merlin?" Arthur's hand is warm on his back, comforting and grounding.
"Can't you feel that?"
Arthur looks ahead, concentrating. After a pause he replies: "What the hell is that?" He straightens his shoulders, missing the weight of his armour. "It's like... slime, crawling over my skin."
"Dark magic." Merlin spits, tries to clear his mouth of the taste of it. "Remember how it feels; it'll help you tell the difference in the future." He sounds different even to himself, sure and strong in a way he rarely feels, let alone sounds. Arthur's expression is dark, angry and something more private.
"It didn't feel like this the other night."
"That's because it was only a tiny thread, outweighed by my own magic and that of the dragon." Arthur nods and starts to dismount. "Arthur, no."
"I'm coming with you."
"I have to do this on my own-"
"Because of your sodding Destiny?" The last of the light faded as they entered the thicker foliage of the oldest part of the forest, and it's as hard to see Arthur as it is to see the cave. Nevertheless, Merlin can just make out the angry set of his jaw.
"No, because of my sodding pride. I'm sure you understand that," snaps Merlin, then wishes he hadn't. Arthur's horse whinnies softly and skitters as he unconsciously tightens the reins. Merlin waits; he won't go to his possible death with anger the last emotion expressed. At last Arthur sighs.
"Alright. But here, take this." He pulls his long dagger free of its sheath and hands it to Merlin hilt first, fingers confident and capable even so close to the perilous blade. "You said she'd have a spell waiting for you, so she clearly has some faith in your sorcery. She probably won't have any in your combat skills, so this might-" Arthur cuts himself off, but Merlin knows what he was about to say.
This might help you last a little longer.
Merlin takes it carefully and nods, holding it well out of the way as he dismounts. Tendrils of foul magic curl curiously around him then withdraw sharply; Nimueh knows he's here. The creaking of leather and faint jangling of a harness makes him turn to see Arthur striding towards him.
Merlin flails as Arthur kisses him hard, momentarily worried about the dagger in his hand until Arthur wraps a hand around his wrist and keeps it firmly by his side. Merlin curves his other hand over Arthur's hip, pulling him close as Arthur does the same thing with Merlin's neck. They break apart, panting, and Arthur steps back jerkily.
"Go. I'll wait here."
Merlin hesitates, but after the struggle he had to get Arthur to leave when he was changing back knows it's a lost cause to try and make Arthur get to a safe distance just in case. Instead he nods, feeling far more like the warlock the dragon insists he is to become than he ever has before.
Heading down into the hollow proper, and to the threshold of the cave is easy, but once he reaches the entrance he starts to feel weighed down, as if he's walking through air as thick as Arthur's last attempt at making porridge. He has to force his legs to keep moving and step into the cave, but when he does his magic-
Stops.
Merlin halts, hands gripping the dagger's hilt so tightly pain shoots up his arm. He shuts his eyes and tries to remember anything the dragon has said about sensing the magic within him, a laughable concept when he was in that other cave, but here and now it provides a slight measure of hope.
A few moments later, in which his hatred of Nimueh and her methods coalesces into more manageable and useful contempt, Merlin finally feels the faint stirrings of his powers. They're not gone, as he'd feared, but dampened down like a charcoal fire. He can't undo whatever it is that Nimueh has done, hasn't the training.
He's got no choice but to continue without his magic, as she had planned.
Merlin's not a coward, whatever accusations Arthur may once have thrown at him, so he presses on down the rock tunnel, heading towards the source of dark magic that he can still (sadly) feel against his skin and taste at the back of his throat.
—-
Nimueh is waiting for him when he rounds the final twist and reaches the inner chamber of the cave. It's not natural, the smoothness of the walls and the carvings on them making that much evident as soon as he walks in. The taint of magic extends to the rock itself in here, surrounding Merlin in a cocoon of wrongness that makes him want to gag.
The sorceress is standing behind a tall pillar of rock that Merlin would liken to the font of a church if it were not such a patently ridiculous comparison, scarlet mouth curving into a mocking smile. "Emrys." She bows her head in faint tribute.
"Nimueh."
"What brings you here, when you knew what I had prepared?" She trails her fingers through the water in the cradle of stone in front of her, a clear threat that she was, and will always be, watching him.
"You know why."
"The young Pendragon, yes." Her words match the dragon's, but where his were grudgingly respectful, bordering on fond, Nimueh's are derisive. "Are you really willing to risk your life in an attempt to make me pay for trying to get my revenge?" Merlin stays silent, keeping the dagger out of sight in the shadows behind him. "You could join me, you know."
"Become like you?"
Nimueh smiles, steps around the rock pillar and walks slowly towards him. "And what is so wrong with that? We both know I am not your match in terms of raw power, but when it comes to knowing what to do with that power I am by far your superior." She's close now, standing just out of striking distance to raise her arms to her sides and increase the magic in the air.
"I could teach you, train you to be the most powerful warlock this land has ever seen. You could rule, Merlin; you could make it so that we magic users would not have to hide and skulk in the shadows anymore."
"And the price?" Merlin yells, "The price I pay, what would that be?"
"Knowledge is worth any price," she returns, voice low and filled with power that makes Merlin's knees weak and his head throb. "It is worth the deaths of the Pendragons and their oppressive laws. Their deaths will be the start of a new reign, the reign of magic!"
A rumbling fills the cave, the sound of powerful sorcery being wrought. Merlin pulls together the last of his strength, thinking of Arthur out in the forest, waiting for him, and strikes.
The dagger slashes at Nimueh's arm, makes her cry out and look at him with eyes that are practically all pupil. Merlin lashes out again, driving her back into the centre of the cave with a series of jabs that Arthur had taught him in the hope that Merlin would be able to hold off an attacker long enough for Arthur to reach him.
The pain of Merlin's unexpected attack weakens Nimueh's hold on her spells, freeing Merlin's magic in an intense flood. He reaches for it, trying to think of something, anything, that he can do to stop her. She's recovering from the first shock, gathering her power and preparing to strike back.
He won't let her, not this time.
"You will not" he shouts, the rock reverberating with the magic in his voice, "kill Arthur. Not while I am here to protect him."
With that, he pulls down the ceiling of the cave.
Tons of rock grind and tremble, caught above their heads by Merlin's magic for a brief moment. Then they come thundering down, Merlin making sure to direct a few boulders specifically onto the rock bowl she used to spy on them all. Nimueh throws up a hasty barrier, protecting herself from the worst of the fall, but Merlin can see weaknesses in it and know it's not going to last long.
He scrambles back to the tunnel, his own instinctive shield holding thanks to the adrenaline fuelling his hold on his magic. Behind him Nimueh's screams blend with the screeching of rock against rock, the sounds and smaller falls following him out of the tunnel and across the hollow. Merlin stumbles, reaches out a hand to break his fall but is not surprised to find himself caught and held by strong arms instead.
They stand together and watch a plume of stone dust billow out of the rapidly disappearing cave entrance, Nimueh's exhortations of rage and fragments of spells cut off as the cave finally vanishes with a final ground-shaking rumble. Arthur's arm is almost painfully tight around Merlin's waist, but it feels right.
"That was actually pretty impressive." Arthur's voice shakes enough to show the major understatement of his comment. Merlin grins.
"Glad you liked it. I'm not completely incompetent, you know."
"I'm learning." Arthur pulls Merlin round to face him, eyes faint spots of white in the darkness. "Can you give us some light?"
"Would a glowing ball of blue magic-stuff be okay?"
"More than." Merlin flicks his fingers, the magic leaping to form an orb bright enough to see as if it's still daytime. Arthur is looking at him, eyes searching his face as soon as the glow hits it. Warm fingers trace feather-light over his face, looking for cuts that aren't there, trailing down his face to brush over his lips. Arthur pauses, fingers pressed so barely against Merlin's lower lip that he can only just feel it.
"You're an idiot," he says softly, eyes never leaving Merlin's, "going in there like that. If you'd died-" He can't carry that on any further, can't make that admission.
At least, not yet.
Merlin saves him further agony by pulling back enough to hand Arthur the dagger he'd miraculously managed to keep hold of. "Yet again, it's your fault that I'm alive. This came in very useful."
Arthur stares at it for a long moment, running a fingertip along the top of one of the edges. Merlin knows what has him frowning; there's no blood on it, even though Nimueh had bled freely from her wounds. He slides it back into it's sheath, shoulders relaxing.
"We should return to Camelot." He casts a look toward what was once a cave, still exuding the odd boom as the rock settles. "Is it safe to leave this as it is?"
"As safe as it ever is to leave a fresh rockfall." Arthur rolls his eyes. "If she's alive, she can't get out. Whatever power she had stored in the rocks has gone, broken with the cave. She's got no powers other than what she has inside her, and from what I could tell that wasn't much."
"Fine. We'll come back and see in daylight."
Arthur guides them to the horses, which he'd had to move further back for fear that they would bolt when the first rumbles of falling rock had begun. Merlin pauses with one hand on his saddle, looking back. "I think I know a binding spell that might lock her in there; I'll have to ask Gaius, but I'm fairly certain it'll work."
"Good," says Arthur with a grunt, swinging himself into his own saddle. "The less we see of that witch, the better."
They ride for a while, the blue light bobbing gently in front of them with just enough light to ensure they stay on the path and don't hit any trees. Merlin lets them put some distance between themselves and the cave before asking a question.
"Will you miss me being a girl?"
Arthur glances swiftly at him, then returns his gaze to the ground in front. The corners of his mouth twitch slightly as he answers. "Not especially. I prefer this you. Although," he adds with a teasing note, "you as a girl did seem to be a much better servant. I liked that."
"Is that all you liked, sire?" Even at a mild distance and while riding a horse Merlin can see the shiver that runs through Arthur at the way he says the title.
"No, and you know it."
"Oh good. Because I know a spell that'll turn me into a girl again - temporarily, thank the gods - and I thought it'd be fun to try." Merlin refrains from mentioning he's already tried it; somehow, he imagines that his childish use of the incantation to even the numbers at the May Day dance won't compare to his use of it now.
"Fun. Of course." Arthur sounds strangled, kicking his horse into a faster trot. Merlin grins, the blue light giving it a devilish look.
The ride passes in silence, Merlin leaving Arthur to his no doubt entertaining thoughts.
—-
Whatever Arthur tells his father about their late-night excursion, it involves something of what occurred with Nimueh, because the next morning Merlin is summoned to see the king.
Uther sits in his throne, the great hall ringed with clerks and petitioners hoping for him to solve various petty disputes. Merlin follows Gaius to stand by the king's side, the physician waiting for a lull in the clamour of noise to clear his throat and motion Merlin forward. Uther looks at him consideringly.
"My son has informed me of your bravery when attacked by the sorceress last night." He avoids her name, Merlin notes not for the first time and longs to know why. "I refrained from asking him what the two of you were doing out so late, and on a feast-night too; I have the feeling I would like the answer as much as I like the thought of that woman in my lands again."
Merlin swallows and hopes nothing shows on his face. Uther continues.
"I, like my son, commend your bravery in luring her into an unstable cave. Such an act has most likely rid Albion of a sincere menace, and will not go unrewarded." Merlin thinks back to the last time he was awarded for his bravery and coughs nervously.
"That's really not necessary, your majesty. I just acted as I thought best."
"And saved this kingdom in the process." Well, he can't exactly argue there, knowledge is worth any price, worth the deaths of the Pendragons and their oppressive laws. Their deaths will be the start of a new reign, the reign of magic appearing in his mind like a particularly gruesome echo. "Consider what you would like, and return when you have an answer."
He's dismissed with a wave of one regal hand, and follows Gaius back to their chambers.
Gaius seats himself behind a merrily bubbling bowl of something Merlin really doesn‘t want to know the exact ingredients of, and eyes him. "What?"
"I'm wondering what you're going to ask for."
Merlin thinks about it, absently setting the jars of potion ingredients to tidy themselves away onto the right shelves as he replaces books and clears the table of general detritus around where Gaius is working. He thinks about the dragon's predictions of a glorious destiny, thinks about the thread of reluctant respect that had crept into Nimueh's voice when she had spoken about the strength of his powers.
Then he hears the distant sound of Arthur in the courtyard below, voice raised as he drills his knights, and thinks about them, the things they've done to each other, the things they will do to each other, and the things they will achieve.
He thinks about the magic he has yet to show Arthur, what it can do, what it already does to the prince, and how much more it's going to do.
He thinks about Merlin and Arthur, and turns to smile at a waiting Gaius.
"Nothing. I've already got everything I want."
♥
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