#even Finna and Alator are like this must be prevented and like could it have been?

[kateis-cakeis]

Sometimes I like to think about the possibility of Arthur and Mordred having a sort of temporary immortality, as in nothing could kill them until they killed each other

That was how the Triple Goddess decreed it after all. Only the Disir could have changed it, only they could have killed Mordred to save Arthur.

And if you think about it, all that Arthur is saved from, all that Mordred escapes, I do believe in the webs of fate that they couldn't die. There was a path they had to complete, too bound to die in any other way.

Before they were born they had a set death. It's right there in the writings of the Catha, hundreds of years beforehand.

So it only makes sense that they could not die until that day came.

[min-sugar-7]

DAY 5: “Any other lies to tell me?” + Angst

Read it on AO3 Here!

Merlin slumped against his bed, covering his eyes and willing them not to spill. It felt stupid, really. But he was told for so long that Arthur is the other side to his coin, his other half, his soulmate. He should have known better than to think that destiny would ever favor him.

It probably would hurt less if Kilgharrah did not feed Merlin pointless lies. If he had clearly stated that there would be nothing romantic between them. Because Merlin went ahead and caught feelings, those pesky little things. At least he never got a chance to make a fool of himself.

What was he thinking? Golden Prince, Arthur Pendragon, falling for him? Of course, his true love was a 'she.' At least he never acted on his feelings. At least the only one that knows about them was himself. But it is fine. It’s not like he loves Arthur. He hates him half the time anyway.

A lie.

He is just a little bit heartbroken. Maybe a bit more than little. But he should have known better than to think that there could be anything between them. It is a miracle they are even friends, considering the number of lies Merlin has told him. 

That, sadly, did not mean that Merlin got over his feelings. It hurt, seeing Arthur with someone else, but at least it was Gwen. Sweet, kind, strong, and caring Gwen. He couldn’t have chosen anyone better. She’s the best in the world.

So Merlin made sure his two favorite people were happy, even if it meant that he would be pining from a distance. He is glad that Arthur’s happy and smiling, even if those were directed to someone else. It’s fine. Destiny was a stupid thing anyway. 

Well, it was fine right up until he was getting crushed under the weight of destiny. If one more person reminded him of his destiny, Merlin would scream. Merlin doubts if he can keep going, carrying the weight of the expectations of sorcerers alive and dead. Not to mention the fact that he’s considered some sort of leader to the magical community. Merlin was not trained for this, will never be trained for this, and cannot possibly live up to their expectations.

Everyone expects Emrys to be some sort of divine leader- fearless and ruthless, a guardian and protector of the magical community. Merlin isn’t Emrys. He doesn’t want to be Emrys. But every single Druid he meets bows and pays their respects and tells him how he’s such a great warlock. 

Merlin might as well scream. 

They treat him like a God, which is not as great as you would think. Merlin is the one to carry their dreams and expectations. Their hopes and dreams followed him around like dead weight, refusing to leave. He is required to fulfill it. It is either that or let every magical being suffer. 

And he is the only one to carry the burden of fate.

He doesn’t have anyone to share it with, not even Gaius. Gaius doesn’t get it either, and never will. He treats Merlin like a son, and for that, he is very grateful. Some days he is sure he would be dead in a ditch if it weren’t for Gaius. But with Gaius, it is a bit different. For him, having Merlin is like having a God for a son, which isn’t that far from the truth. He knows that Gaius worries for him and cares for him. But Gaius also has expectations for Merlin. Expectations he’s afraid he can’t fulfill.

With each passing day, the threat to Arthur’s life grows stronger and more dangerous. Merlin cannot keep up. 

Everyone who knows about Merlin’s magic also knows about his destiny. There are people that Merlin does not know that know about Merlin’s destiny. Merlin wants to yell that they are entrusting their freedom to the hands of the wrong person. That he is not the one they should be laying down their lives for. That there must be another sorcerer, one who deserves to be called Emrys. 

He feels laced with guilt and regret for the lives of Alator and Finna, along with every other sorcerer's life lost for a cause that is impossible to fulfill. They have laid it all down so Merlin could hear, in painful detail, just how his King is going to die. 

Merlin did scream then, in the relative privacy of the forest. Arthur’s going to die, and if Merlin doesn't prevent it, it is all on him. Arthur's death would be on him. It is going to be his fault that there will be no Albion. It is going to be his fault that magic will forever be lost to these lands. It is going to be his fault that Arthur's going to die, and he doesn't want that. He wants Arthur to live a happy and long life.

Somewhere along the line, 'Albion' sounded like 'Arthur.' If given a choice between the two, Merlin would no doubt chose Arthur. He would pick Arthur over and over again. Always Arthur. Because Arthur has become his priority, and he won't be able to live with himself if he let Arthur die. It will all be his fault.

It was his fault anyway. It was his fault Morgana turned. It was his fault that Mordred lived. It was his fault that he didn’t let Morgana die when he had the chance. It was his fault that while trying to show Arthur how good magic can be, he did the complete opposite. For Arthur, magic is something that took his mother, his father, his sister, and his wife. Merlin doubts that saving Gwen made Arthur’s opinion on magic any different. 

Everything he does, everything he tries, only brings him closer to the inevitable. Arthur is going into battle at dawn, and Merlin won’t even be there. 

Merlin promised Arthur that he would always protect him or die trying. A lie. He failed at both. Now Arthur’s saddled up with a piece of a sword forged in a dragon’s breath inside him, the very same dragon he should have looked after.

Aithusa, Light of the Sun, the very same dragon Kilgharrah said would bode well for Albion, for him and Arthur, and for the land they would build together. 

A lie.

It is the sword drenched in her breath that brought Arthur down. Merlin did not have the heart to blame her. Merlin was the one that abandoned her, sent her straight to Morgana. 

Gaius trusted him, told him that only he could save Arthur. Said that he would have a bowl of his favorite soup waiting for him, for when he would come back. He said that Arthur would be fine, that the Shide would heal him. 

Another lie.

Merlin clutched the wheezing body of his love tighter as if he could will him to stay. It is all his deepest nightmares playing out. Arthur- dying in his arms- practically resenting Merlin’s magic. For all his magic and he still could not save his love. 

Nothing, nothing ever could be worse than this.

Until it was. 

In any other situation, anything but this, Merlin would have cherished Arthur’s last words. He despised them. He despised his final words, the last whisper of something he has never said before. He despised the way they were told- as if a confession of his deepest darkest secret. 

But that is what they were. Arthur had a wife, a loving, doting wife, and yet- 

And yet, his last words to Merlin had been a choked whisper of, “I love you.”

Merlin has dreamt of those words, thought about every single way Arthur would tell him. Never like this, though. But those were just that- dreams and fantasies. But Destiny was never easy, was it?

Was it all a lie? Could, heaven forbid, Arthur really love him? Or was it just words spoken out of desperation, just another lie?

Just like how his destiny was a lie? Like how Albion was a lie? Like how the Kingdom they were supposed to build, together, was a lie? 

Like how everything Kilgharrah said was a lie. Like how his hopes and dreams were lies. Like how every Druid lied. Like how everything was a lie, a half-baked truth, a stupid fantasy. 

“There is nothing you can do, Merlin, for all that you have dreamt has come to pass,” Kilgharrah said.

 Lies.

He had failed. He’d failed Arthur. He’d failed Morgana. He’d failed Gwen. He'd failed Gaius. He’d failed Mordred, Isidir, and Freya. He’d failed Finna, Alator, and Gili. He’d failed Daegel, Balinor, and Hunith. He’d failed all the sorcerers that died during and after the Purge. He’d failed all the sorcerers living in fear. He’d failed all that sorcerers that are yet to be born.

Merlin stayed long after he sent Arthur away, no doubt his bowl of soup growing cold. He learned that Gwaine, too, had passed in a last attempt to run Morgana through. It was not supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be the three of them, Courage, Strength, and Magic, standing side-by-side, ready to face whatever destiny throws at them.

Another Lie.

He made it as far as Camelot’s gates, listening to the echoes of “Long Live the Queen,” before deciding that Camelot would prosper under Gwen’s rule. He could never, ever face her again. Not after his failure, not after the lies. Not after being the keeper of his King’s last words, which no doubt should have belonged to Gwen. 

He only scried for Gaius when he felt the old man’s life slipping away. Gaius saw him and heard him, telling him that they missed him there. No doubt another lie. Merlin watched as the light behind Gaius’s eyes dimmed, saying one last goodbye to the closest thing he had to a father. 

Soon it was Kilgharrah, and then Geoffrey, then Gwen, then Leon, then Percival, then Audrey, Queen Annis, Queen Mithian, Queen Vivian, Queen Elena, Isidir, Gili, Sefa… 

He should have guessed that he would be punished in some way. The Gods made him immortal, forever waiting for Arthur to return. Forever waiting near the lake, never allowed to be away from Albion for long. 

Excalibur might have been his only way out, but he had disposed of it into the lake soon after Arthur died. Again, that could have been a lie too. 

The world changed. Green and magic got replaced by iron and steel. Aithusa passed peacefully in her sleep, never once forgiving Merlin for slaying Morgana. Magic slipped away from the land slowly, until the last tendril of magic died along with the last wizard, leaving Merlin to be the only source of magic left.

All of it seeped deep into the Earth’s core, locked away and to never be accessed, leaving the Earth barren. 

Wars broke out, along with famine, storms and disasters, and death. The Lake of Avalon remained still and timeless, forever preserved by the Gods, like Merlin. 

Merlin looked up at the sky, where he believed the Gods to be, long forgotten like the legend of his love and his legacy. The Gods were never merciful. They had disappeared too, the last of them forgotten like Merlin. But Merlin was forced to keep living, forever traveling the Earth, never straying too far from the lake. 

“Any other lies left to tell me?” Merlin said, resigned and pitiful, as he felt the world falling apart around him. Arthur never once returned, dooming Merlin to watch as humans ripped apart from each other, unable to help. They tear themselves apart, rebuilding and rehabilitating soon after. They, too, had been cursed to keep going, destroying and restoring. And for all Merlin knew, that also could have been a lie.