When the Kingdoms' Come

Rated M for violence, language, and strong sexual themes.

I own not the BBC show Merlin. Plot is similar, but not really.

Chapter 17: The Awakening

Staring at the back of Iseldir's curly-haired head, Arthur could only think dark thoughts about their current predicament. How did this happen? How could I let Merlin become this sick? I thought bringing them both out here would be the safest option, but it really wasn't. Now some druid had to come and save our sorry asses because I'm not a good leader. Arthur spat angrily to the side of the barely-worn trail. I'm not good enough to be a leader, let alone a king.

"Arthur," Morgana murmured from beside him as they walked their horses through the undergrowth. "This isn't your fault."

Of course she knows what's bothering me. We've grown up together like brother and sister. "Yeah, but I still feel like it is. I'm the one who brought you two out here without a plan, thinking that as long as we were away from Uther, we'd be safe. Now Merlin is sick, and the druids had to come save him. I'm a terrible friend."

She frowned and turned to look at him. "You are not a terrible friend. Merlin looks up to you and follows you around like a lost puppy. The other knights admire and respect you; they would gladly follow you out onto the battlefield even if it was a lost cause. And I think of you like a brother that I never had, even when we fight." She nudged his side at the last part.

Arthur cracked a half-smile at her words. The steady rhythm of the horses' hooves and the sights and sounds of the forest would've calmed Arthur at any other time, but the fact that Merlin was draped sickly over his horse, his magic dull and groggy, only made the prince's stomach knot in worry.

"We're almost there," called Iseldir from up front. Merlin made a barely audible groan, and the druid leader cast a worried look at the young warlock.

Arthur strained his eyes to try to see a camp up ahead, but all he could make out was more undergrowth and trees. Then a sudden explosion of light hit his senses, and Arthur blinked instinctively, even though the light was in his mind. A golden dome of magic sat over a clearing that had definitely not been there a moment ago. He watched as Iseldir and Merlin passed through the dome's light without resistance. He swore he could see a tiny smile grace Merlin's features.

As he and Morgana crossed the magical barrier, Arthur felt a warmth flow through him like a strong drink of ale. He felt safe and at peace, like he had just woken from a deep sleep. Then the moment passed and the rest of the camp came into view. Small huts and tents made a ring around the edge of the clearing like a crescent moon. Young druid children were playing with sticks and straw dolls near the tree line while the adults prepared food or made clothes.

The place felt homey to Arthur, with the down-to-earth atmosphere and the simplistic way of life. As Iseldir and Merlin neared the middle of the clearing, the druid's attention immediately gravitated towards them. Several elderly druids ran up to Merlin's slumped form, their hands making patterns in the air near the warlock. Iseldir spoke to them in hushed tones, and then looked over to Arthur and nodded with a look that said 'We'll take it from here.'

The prince watched as the druids lifted the frail teen off the horse and into one of the larger huts in the clearing. He started to take a step forward to go be with Merlin, but Morgana's hand on his arm stopped him.

"He's in good hands now. Let the druids take care of him."

The blond looked over at the young woman who was practically his sister and smiled, trying to mask his nerves and unease about the whole situation. "You're right. I'm sure he'll be fine."

A young druid girl, maybe 11 or 12, came up to him, a small boy with dark hair and bright eyes hiding shyly behind her legs. "I can tie up your horses with ours," she said, holding out a hand for the reigns.

Arthur smiled and handed her the leads to both his and Morgana's horses. "Thank you," he said graciously.

The boy remained rooted to the spot after the girl started leading the horses away. He stared at the prince with clear, wide eyes, vigorously sucking his thumb in his mouth. The faint glow of the boy's magical aura swirled around his hands and chest in a strange pattern. A shiver ran down Arthur's spine, although he didn't know why. Something about the eyes unnerved him slightly.

"Come, Mordred," the girl called over her shoulder. The dark-haired child finally moved, running to catch up with the older druid. Arthur shared a quick glance with Morgana, who just shrugged. The two royalty walked towards the large unlit fire pit in the middle of the clearing and sat down on a smooth, worn log. Arthur stared without seeing at the charred logs in the pit for a moment before burying his face in his hands. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come, not with Morgana next to him and the druids everywhere in the clearing.

Arthur glanced toward the hut where Merlin had been taken, seeking out the warlock's special magical glow amongst the others. There it was, faint but still there, long golden tendrils mixing with the steady pulse of the druid elders near him. He moved to sit on the log opposite the tent so he could watch Merlin's magic while Morgana tried to cheer him up.

Hours passed. The sun sank below the horizon and a chill set over the clearing. A druid came over to the fire pit and lit it with a raised hand and several muttered words. Arthur shivered despite the heat of the fire. His gaze hadn't left the tent where Merlin was, his sense fixed on the teen's magic. He watched as it grew dimmer and dimmer, the tendrils shrinking back and curling around Merlin instead.

The moon had begun to rise and a young druid woman had offered himself and Morgana food. Arthur thanked her but could not bring himself to eat any of the food. His stomach still churned in worry for the boy being healed under the old and knowledgeable hands of the elders. This was normal, right? To worry and be anxious over the state of one of his own? It wasn't because of what Morgana said earlier, about them being - no, it wasn't that. Arthur was just worried for his friend. His manservant's well-being.

An hour later, or so Arthur thought, he really couldn't tell anymore, the druids emerged from the tent carrying Merlin's body between them. Arthur shot up from the log and cried out in dismay at the sight of Merlin's limp form being carried between the elders.

"I thought you were supposed to be healing him!" Arthur screamed at the druids, who were now arranging Merlin's body in the middle of the clearing. "You said you could help him!"

Morgana tried to put a hand on his arm but Arthur pushed her away. Rage flowed through Arthur's body as it never had before in his life; not even his anger towards Uther could compare to this. Merlin, Merlin, oh what have they done to you? Arthur thought. He stood still in shock, staring at the body of his raven-haired friend on the ground. Arthur barely registered the fact that Iseldir was talking to him until the words processed in his mind.

"Merlin isn't sick, young Pendragon."

"What?"

"It isn't sickness that he deals with."

"What? What do you mean? He is clearly lying there, unmoving on the ground! What do you mean this isn't sickness?"

"Merlin's time has come, my lord." Iseldir turned to face Merlin.

Pure panic engulfed Arthur from the head down. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel. "He's…He's…?"

Iseldir spoke quickly to the prince. "No, no, Emrys isn't dead. This is the exact opposite. Emrys is coming into his heritage. He is coming of age."

Confusion began to dissipate Arthur's anger. He looked at Merlin's prone form, the magic seeping out slowly like grains of sand, and then back at Iseldir. "What do you mean?"

"All descendent of the Old Religion reach their true potential on the eve of their 18th birthday. For most of the druids, they either get headaches or a slight fever. Emrys is an exception though." As Iseldir spoke, the small druid community began to gather in a neat circle around Merlin's pallid body. "Emrys is destined to be the most powerful sorcerer who ever walks this Earth. His symptoms are much, much worse because of the great power he is destined for."

Arthur swallowed thickly, watching as Morgana bent down next to Merlin's head and was smoothing the hair around his face in a comforting gesture. He looked down to realize his hands were shaking. With relief, fear, or excitement, Arthur did not know.

The druid continued, "It is not simply coincidence you have ended up in the forest near our camp. Emrys needed our help getting through this process. The Old Religion does not let such things pass unaccounted for."

The bright, full moon was almost overhead when the druid camp began chanting softly in a language Arthur did not know. Morgana stepped back from Merlin to stand next to the prince, her hand briefly squeezing the blonde's in comfort.

Slowly, Merlin's magic golden glow began to increase in luminosity, covering his body in a thin light like a blanket. Arthur thought it was still is his mind's eye until Morgana leaned over and whispered, "You see the light coming from him too, right?" To which Arthur could only nod, his eyes glued to his manservant. The glow became thicker and brighter, spreading from Merlin's body onto the ground around him, golden tendrils wrapping around the feet of those gathered closest. The druids' chanting became louder and more intense, and all the variables seemed to line up in the world as the silver moonlight collided with Merlin's now blinding golden aura. Arthur couldn't physically look at Merlin's body for the sheer intensity of the light coming off it.

All of a sudden, the light instantaneously vanished as if sucked straight into Merlin's body, the normally blue eyes flashing open with irises of permanent gold. Merlin gasped and sat up as if awaking from a dream. He looked around the circle of druids, now finished with their chanting, until his eyes locked with Arthur's. Time slowed and became still as the two young men stared at each other, an eternity passing between them, and then another.

Iseldir finally broke the silence. "Welcome Emrys, Warlock of the Old Religion." The druids repeated his name in a rippling chorus. Merlin got shakily to his feet and without thinking, Arthur rushed over to his side and embraced him warmly. He didn't realize until now how much he needed the physical reminder that Merlin was okay.

The raven-haired magician hugged him back unabashedly, whispering Arthur's name quietly so only the blond could hear. Arthur pulled away reluctantly to stare deeply into the swirling eyes of gold in front of him. Raw magic pulsed comfortably from the Warlock's body in such a way that Arthur could not only see it, but feel it as well. To him it was gentle but strong, and felt like nothing but pure love flowing around and in him. Merlin's wide, happy smile flashed at him, and it was at this moment the young heir knew he would rule only with this kind, magical soul in front of him.