Merlin, the adventures continue...

Prologue

This is a fan fiction story based on the BBC series Merlin. Copyright of the characters and places (including images) go to the BBC, except the characters and places of my own invention.

The action takes place right after the last episode of season five.

Prologue

With a jolt Merlin sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, a piercing scream still on his lips. Pulse racing, heart beating erratically in his chest, his breath came in ragged gulps. Slowly the room came into focus, the last rays of the setting sun playing with the swirling dust particles.

“Merlin, are you alright?” The door flew open and a tired-looking Gaius half-ran into Merlin’s tiny room. “I heard you scream. You’re awake!”

Merlin nodded, still dazed from his dream. “Yes,” he said absent-minded, “yes, just a bad dream. What time is it?”

Gaius at first said nothing, then: “Tell me about your dream.”

“It was terrible Gaius, absolutely terrible. I was Emrys and suddenly a dragon whizzed past, an enormous dragon encased in sharp-edged metal armour and the noise... it was... it was... and it was bellowing black smoke from behind and its eyes were ablaze and I just stood there and then it was gone and another one at terrible speed came thundering by and I stood there, by the Lake of Avalon, standing and walking and searching but everything had changed and the forests were gone and the road was all black with white stripes and then I saw Mordred, sword dripping with blood and laughing and Arthur lying in a boat and he was dead and--- Arthur, where is Arthur, is he alright?” Panic now crept in Merlin’s voice and he grabbed Gaius’ sleeve, fear in his eyes. “Please tell me he is alright!”

“Yes Merlin, Arthur is perfectly fine.”

For a moment relief washed over Merlin’s face. “And Gwaine, is he alright too?”

“Yes Merlin, Gwaine is alright and so are Percival and Leon and Gwen.”

Gaius wanted to say more, but he hesitated. “Merlin,” he said at last, “there is more. You have been asleep for over a week. I have tried everything to wake you, but the magic is unfamiliar to me and it was too strong. It was very old magic, nothing I’ve ever seen, but I could feel it and---“

“A week, over a week? I have been asleep for over a week?”

“Yes, so you will be well rested by now,”  said Arthur as he walked into the room.

“Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed.

“And surely you must be full of energy. So you can start by polishing my armour and cleaning my boots. And my shirts needs washing.” A bundle of red and white linen shirts hit Merlin square in his face.

“Eeuww, have you been sleeping in the stables in these?”

“No, I couldn’t afford to sleep, as I had to do your chores as well. You were the one sleeping, remember?”

Arthur walked to the door. Then he turned around, looked at Merlin and said: “I’m glad you’re back Merlin, I really am.” Before Merlin could respond, Arthur was gone.

I had better not tell him, Gaius thought, that Arthur came here every day, moistening Merlin’s lips and trying to get him to drink. “Not a word of this to anyone,” had Arthur commanded, “not one word!”

The door was thrown open and Gwaine, Percival and Leon came bursting in, all three hugging Merlin at the same time, all but suffocating him. “You’re back!” they yelled and cheered and finally gave Merlin some air. Then they left as noisily as they came.

“I will leave you now,” said Gaius, “let you rest a while.”

“What, do you actually want me to go to sleep?” Merlin answered jokingly.

Merlin did not sleep, but lay staring at the ceiling, his mind in turmoil trying to figure out what had happened. His dreams had been so vivid, so real, he really couldn’t tell what was real and what was not anymore. Not so long ago he has lost his magic, thanks to Morgana, but that surely must have been real. He still felt the pain, the hopelessness, the fear. Could Morgana be responsible for this too? And Mordred, surely he had nothing to do with all of this? He was a Knight of Camelot, a friend. Merlin lit a candle and started reading, there must be an explanation in his spell books. Late in the evening, when everything was dark, he slipped out of Camelot and summoned the Great Dragon.

“I  need you to tell me,” Merlin said, “I was asleep for over a week and even Gaius doesn’t know what caused it. I’ve read countless books on magic and there never was any mention of a sleeping spell this powerful. And I had this dream of Mordred laughing and Arthur being dead in a future I can’t understand.”

“Do we not all dream,” said Kilgharrah unperturbed, “just as I did until you summoned me.”

“Do you know what caused it, who caused it. Could it have been Morgana?”

“So many questions... Hmmm, yes, the witch has great power, she could very well behind this. And I remember, long ago, before the gods of the old religion, there were the gods that came before them, long forgotten now by most. Perhaps someone has awakened some of them. I have heard of an ancient god of sleep and dreams, Caer Ibormeith, who could induce such dreams. Unfortunately, those dreams had the tendency to usually come true.” 

“But it is my destiny to protect Arthur,” Merlin said desperately, “he cannot die in my arms, he cannot die because a dream said so.”

“There are many roads that lead to ones destiny,” Kilgharrah answered, “but to that one destiny all roads invariably lead. Sometimes the road is short, sometimes the road is long. It is written that it is Arthurs destiny to die young warlock, as it is your destiny to protect him and there is nothing I can do to change that. Only you can decide which road to take and the road you have chosen is a precarious one.”

“Why, I am doing everything in my power to protect Arthur.”

“If that is so, then why let you that druid boy live. You should have killed him when you had the chance.”

“Mordred, his name is Mordred.”

“That druid boy will be Arthurs downfall, heed my words.”

“Mordred would lay down his life for Arthur.”

“And take his life.”

That evening there was a great feast in the Great Hall of Camelot. Meat and mead in abundance and all the Knights of Camelot were laughing and talking and bragging. Among the guests were the kings of Mercia en Caerleon and their spouses and a boisterous knight with a huge bushy beard, clad entirely in green.

Merlin stood in the corner of the hall, looked at Arthur and a tear trickled down his face.