Chapter Text
It took two months after appointing Merlin Court Sorcerer for Arthur to show him the Gem. When Arthur had silently led Merlin down to where the crown jewels were kept, Merlin had quietly joked that he’d already put protection spells on the crown (years ago, though Arthur didn’t know that part), so why were they coming down here? Truthfully, the King leading him silently deep down under the castle alone was a bit frightening- yes, Arthur accepted his magic, but that was after several long months of silence and doubt and waiting . Still, Merlin followed, trusting Arthur wholeheartedly.
When they reached the vault, Arthur walked past the crowns, past the jewel encrusted scepter, and straight to the stone wall at the far back of the chamber. Merlin had raised a brow, but kept his quips to himself. Arthur gave him a serious look, and opened a hidden compartment in the stone- it must have been placed there by magic, because there was no seam left in the stone when the compartment closed. From inside, Arthur pulled out a gem about the size of his fist, glowing a blue so brilliant it was unnatural. He held it out for Merlin to take, and he could feel the power radiating off of it before his hand closed around it. His whole body felt warm, flecks of gold spilling into his eyes, his magic pulling to the surface fast enough to make his breath catch.
“So we were right.” Arthur’s voice pulled him back, and he looked up to find him watching him curiously. “It’s magic.”
“Very.” Merlin had mumbled, looking down at the gem in his hands. There were runes engraved in a seemingly random pattern, so fine and intricate that no human hand could have possibly carved them. It had to have been from the Old Religion. “Where did you get this?” As he holds it, his magic slowly gets pulled closer and closer to the surface.
“A sorcerer that father-” Arthur cut himself off, averting his eyes. They both knew what he meant. “No one has been able to figure out what it is, or what it does. But it- feels powerful, and the few sorcerers that have been shown it seem drawn to it, but refuse to discuss it.” He looked at Merlin with a look that wasn’t quite expectant, but it didn’t need to be- Merlin always knows what Arthur wants, and always gives it to him.
“I’ve never heard of it before or seen it, but it’s- whoever made this was powerful . It’s… I can’t be certain, but it seems to be-” He almost dropped it, then. His magic was so close to the surface, and now it felt… heavy, and hot. “It seems to be able to magnify one’s power.” He held it out for Arthur to take, his eyes glowing bright and his skin hot to the touch. “That’s dangerous, in the wrong hands. It could be used to magnify the power and range of a spell.”
“Like across the castle?” Arthur had asked. They had shared a look, then, Arthur cradling the Gem while Merlin cradled his magic.
“Like all of Camelot.”
—
In the first year after the lift of the ban on magic and becoming Court Sorcerer, Merlin’s life took a sharp 180.
His destiny was far from finished. Not all magic users were satisfied with the legalization of magic- in their eyes, not enough was done to avenge those who died mercilessly at the hands of Uther, and since the man himself wasn’t around to blame- well, Arthur was a close second. Merlin was fending off assassination attempts what felt like twice as often as before. It was out of habit that he didn’t tell Arthur, and the times he did mention it, Arthur seemed to think he was exaggerating. So his hobby of thwarting assassination attempts on the king was kept to himself.
Then, there was an increase in attacks on magic users. They should have expected it, really. A large portion of the kingdom did not agree with Arthur’s decision to decriminalize magic. They said it was rushed, dangerous, or that Arthur was enchanted. The ‘enchanted’ rumor was the hardest for Merlin, as many in the castle saw him being given a position in court on the same day as magic being decriminalized as evidence of Merlin having enchanted the king. During that first month, Merlin became especially skilled in glamor charms. Some injuries cannot be magicked away, and Merlin didn’t want the guards, knights, and townspeople who had taken to beating him in order to break the perceived enchantment to be persecuted- that would only further validate those who believed he had Arthur under his thumb, and may lead them to more extreme measures. Slowly but surely, the attacks died down from multiple a day to a few a month, a great improvement in Merlin’s eyes.
The worst part of the change, to Merlin, was the way his and Arthur’s friendship changed drastically. With his new position, Merlin no longer had time to be Arthur’s manservant, and because of this he wasn’t by his side all day as he’d gotten used to. This wasn’t Merlin’s decision- if he had his way, he would have kept both jobs. But he was told, not asked, to give up the position, and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful- after all, he was being allowed to practice his magic openly by Arthur’s side, and isn’t that what he’d worked so hard for?
Council meetings were… an adjustment. Merlin had attended many over the years, but always from his position on the wall behind Arthur. Now, having a seat at the table, he found it hard to get the respect he’d earned. Without Arthur, he likely would have given up a week in. After each council session, he and Merlin went back to his room for wine and a chat, catching each other up on their day and Arthur guiding Merlin on how to act in meetings. Slowly, Merlin’s confidence grew. Their meetings became less frequent, and more business centered. It hurt having to make an appointment to meet with his friend, just to see how he’s doing. After stopping another would-be assassin in the night, he just wanted to look at the prat and make sure he didn’t manage to get himself killed… and see his friend, to make sure he’s alright. Merlin wasn’t the only one taking on new duties, after all.
And though he was no longer being attacked daily, Merlin wasn’t left alone- or rather, he was. Arthur’s workload increased with new laws, negotiations, treaties: magic was influencing every corner of the kingdom, and it was Arthur’s job to address it. The knights followed their king- more patrols were needed in the early days; groups were sent on trips to neighboring kingdoms to invite them back to Camelot for discussions pertaining to magic; outlying villages called for the knights more and more to settle magic-based disputes. By the second month, Arthur nearly doubled the amount of knights in his control. The knights who joined shortly after the ban was lifted went through less trials than normal. Some… less than chivalrous men were able to slip through the cracks this way, and it somehow seemed they all sought out Merlin. They were quick to remind him how he would receive no protection from the knights, as he should be able to protect himself. A shove, punch, or kick would catch him by surprise at least weekly, a reminder to stay on his guard.
As he was no longer by the knights’ sides with Arthur each day, he was forced to watch as his friends drifted, their meetings dwindling more and more until Merlin hardly knew who was in the city anymore. He’d watch from his window as Arthur returned from a hunt, Leon, Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot in tow, and close his curtains, keeping his hurt inside. It festered, fueled by his loneliness, the glares of the servants he used to work with, and the distrust of the townspeople who once looked to him for help. His mind bombarded him with messages each day, reminding him that he didn’t deserve the power he’d been given, Arthur was glad to be rid of him, he hurt more than he helped. These messages slowly wormed their way into his heart until he knew for certain the truth: his friends did not trust him, he would not be protected or helped when he needed, he was only useful for his magic.
He rarely slept, he hardly ate, he barely spoke. His days narrowed to his duties: he brewed potions for Gaius, guided Gwen on her new position as physician’s assistant, helped them with magical remedies when possible, attended council meetings, settled magical disputes, aided in sentencing for crimes involving magic, helped the servants that still chose to associate with him, studied and practiced his magic, stopped attacks on Arthur but not himself. It was the life he’d worked so hard for, where he could practice magic freely, and his people were no longer afraid of execution simply for existing.
So why did each day feel worse than the last?
—
It was only a matter of time that a full scale magical attack was launched on Camelot, and it comes nearly a year to the day that the ban was lifted. In some ways, Merlin is almost grateful- finally, he can be of use. Now, standing on top of the watchtower with Arthur, he feels anything but.
Arthur’s back is straight, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he gazes out over the approaching army, if it can be called that. The creatures look to be clouds of thick smog, vaguely lit from within, shrieking as they make their way towards the castle. They’ve been destroying the kingdom village by village, leaving nothing but carnage and rubble behind, but no one has been able to lay eyes on them until now. Without looking away from the threat, Arthur asks Merlin, “What are they?”
“I can’t be sure, Sire.” Neither know when ‘Sire’ stopped being an insult. “But from what I can tell, they’re made of magic.” His heart stings as he remembers the man at the edge of the forest, unaware of the approaching threat, providing them with an answer on how they attack. “They seem to be feeding off of life forces- they surround a person, stealing their life-force, and in doing so are able to duplicate themselves.”
“So what you’re saying-”
“For each person they kill, another creature is created.”
There’s silence between them. There are thousands of these creatures. So many villages attacked, so many monsters created… So many dead.
“Surely, there must be a spell that can defeat them?” Arthur still doesn’t look at Merlin, eyes now scanning the lower town, watching as his people flee to the castle.
“Not one that can defeat them all at once. And to fight one at a time… I wouldn’t have time to stop them all.” Merlin’s hands twitch, trying to think of something to do, some way to fix this -
“Talk to Geoffrey, or Gaius, or anyone. Find something.” Arthur turns to go back inside, but stops to look at Merlin, his eyes hard. “Don’t let me down.”
Merlin watches him go, then looks back out over the city. He has to fix this- this is the only thing he’s good for. He knows a spell- well, it’s less of a spell, and more of an innate knowledge of how to destroy one of these creatures, but only one at a time. The creatures feed off of life-forces, but Merlin’s life-force is magic itself. If he pushes a thread of magic into the creature, it will latch onto it, sensing the life attached, and Merlin can then sever the connection, killing the creature like snipping a bud from a vine while leaving Merlin’s magic unaffected enough to replace the lost magic quickly. But there isn’t time to repeat the process for each of the creatures- he wouldn’t even be able to make a dent in the army approaching.
He hears the knights below shouting orders, thinks he can hear Gwaine ushering people into the castle. The stone walls won’t save them, but it will buy them time and peace. He feels the wind on his skin, blowing the army closer and closer. He smells the smoke as torches are handed out to those willing and able to fight- why fire, he isn’t sure, but the irony isn’t lost on him. He looks out and sees the enemy approaching, knowing they’re running out of time. His eyes catch the top of Arthur’s head, the sunlight shining off his hair like a halo, and he can taste sweat and strawberries and forests-
He knows what he has to do.
—
Getting into the vaults is concerningly easy, though he supposes the guards are more easily distracted than usual. The compartment for the Gem is hidden seamlessly in the wall, but the power radiating from it shows Merlin where to lay his hand to open it. He removes his neckerchief to carefully pick it up, not wanting to risk setting it off early. He has one shot at this, and he can’t fail.
No one stops him as he slips through the crowd of guards, knights, and citizens rushing to the castle, heading the opposite way. Stepping out of the gates into the field surrounding the castle, it’s odd to see what is so often a battlefield empty, but he can see the creatures in the distance gaining speed, and for once, he’s grateful to be alone. He has no armor, no sword, but he doesn’t need them. He is his own weapon.
Merlin’s heart pounds in his chest as he glances back at the castle. He thinks he can see a flash of gold among a sea of red capes, and his lips tug up. Compared to all the battles they’ve been in, all the evil and vengeful enemies they’ve fought, it feels rather mundane for his final stand to be alone, fighting a nameless enemy. But he’s never been one to question destiny.
Jaw and resolve set, he steps further into the field and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the fabric covered Gem. The neckerchief falls to the ground as he cradles the Gem, his skin warming instantly. He studies it one last time, then closes both hands around it, fully encompassing it, urging it to accept his magic and deliver it by his will. In response, it’s like a gate opens in the Gem, and he gasps as his magic slowly enters the Gem- not all of it, but enough to prove it’s ready to work.
He looks up at the creatures quickly rushing towards him, finally able to study them. They don’t walk, as they don’t have legs- or a form, really. They truly resemble a cloud of smog and dust, hovering and moving as if pushed by a strong wind. Lightning crackles through them, and they shriek from deep inside. Merlin’s spine goes cold as he realizes each scream is unique- the cries not of the creature, but of its victim.
Merlin’s eye’s slip shut as he focuses all of his magic on the task at hand. He starts with the closest one- a single thread of magic slipping from the Gem, rushing into the creature. As he expected, it latches on, sucking up his magic like sap from a tree. He severs the connection easily, and watches as the creature disappears, seemingly carried away in the wind. Spurred forward by his success, Merlin lets more magic slip out, roots spreading to each and every creature. It stretches further and further, fueled by the Gem, and horrifyingly Merlin realizes the creatures have spread to every corner of Albion. If he doesn’t do this now, everything Arthur has worked so hard to create will be gone. He cannot let that happen. He pushes his magic forward faster, and one by one, each creature is invaded by his magic, and all at once, they latch on.
Merlin doesn’t hear himself scream, doesn’t see his eyes glow brighter than the high noon sun, doesn’t feel his feet leave the ground, or the Gem hover in front of him, golden light beaming from it like a fallen star. He hovers, arms outstretched, fists clenched as he holds onto the invisible threads of magic being pulled by thousands of creatures at once. It hurts, Goddess it hurts, but he holds on, waiting, waiting, waiting-
There. Right at their peak, where the creatures try to take him, Merlin pulls back. He yanks the threads with all he has, his screams echoing off the castle walls. He feels the threads snap, this magic breaking with them. The Gem shatters, and one by one, the creatures vanish in a puff of smoke.
Merlin’s arms drop, his eyes go dull, his feet touch the ground. He doesn’t notice any of it- he doesn’t notice much besides the empty, hollow feeling taking over him. It’s like his soul has been scooped out of him, leaving him a shell of a being, barely there at all. Strong arms catch him, and when did he start falling? All he can see is a familiar, golden glow, and he lets out a breath as he smiles.
He doesn’t inhale.