Merlin

Episode 4.09: Lancelot du Lac Rewrite

Merlin du Lac

Epilogue

Merlin groaned, slowly opening his eyes. It took several sluggish blinks to clear out the blurry vision, taking in the details of his new location. Sunlight streamed from the windows, narrow slits in the gray brick wall of the circular room. The room itself extended upward, a spiraling stair case outlining the exterior rose into the gray ceiling. A castle tower, Merlin realized. Ancient runes covered the entirety of the bricks, a warm and inviting buzz resonating from the walls. The carpet floors were covered in piles of dusty books, an occasional parchment floating out of the bundle. And instead of laying naked in a court yard, or walking out of muddled water (also naked), he was comfortably covered under a thick blanket. The mattress under his back was wonderfully soft, a plush pillow placed under his head. Merlin felt himself unconsciously snuggle in deeper, wondering if this was what heaven felt like.

For a brief moment, the warlock wondered what new world he ended up in now. That is, until he laid his eyes on a certain golden-haired prince sitting on a wooden chair at the side of his bed, waiting patiently for Merlin to turn towards him.

Definitely not a new world. And certainly not dead, unless Arthur had died too?

The last thought, albeit not too uncommon these past couple of days, sent a panic signal through his addled mind. Merlin reached for his king feebly.

And Arthur grasped the thin arms to reassure the panicking man. He pushed gently against him, preventing him from getting off the comfy mattress. "It's okay, Merlin. You're back."

Merlin stopped struggling, his eyes widening at those words. "I'm back?" He whispered, daring not to hope, but unable to stop himself.

Arthur smiled encouragingly, nodding. "We're in Camelot. You are no longer under Morgana's control."

Which brought a whole new set of questions. "Morgana?" Merlin asked. Where is she?

Arthur's eyes darkened, and he sighed sadly. "A story for another day, my friend." At the uncertain glance he received, the King continued to talk. "Know this, she has been taken care of. Morgana will never attack Camelot again." Yet, there was no triumph in that statement; Arthur sounded heartbroken. The raven-haired man nodded slowly, understanding the implications. He pushed against the mattress once more and Arthur helped him, seating him against the pillows.

Both boys fell silent at that, both lost in their thoughts, before Merlin decided to address a different question: his current location.

"What is all of this?" Merlin gestured towards the room.

Arthur smiled mischievously. "Well, apparently court jesters are in high demand. They are being well paid, and I did promise you."

Merlin's eyes widened, horrified. "You didn't..." he started, flabbergasted.

Arthur laughed heartily, a deep sound that, despite Merlin's potential predicament, sprouted an immediate smile on the warlock's face.

"No," the King agreed. Merlin sighed relieved. Arthur continued. "Turns out, we already have an excellent joker within our walls. A servant named George." Arthur's nose scrunched up unconsciously in distaste. Even Merlin agreed with the sentiment, immediately countering the King's poor decision.

"That's not true, right? His brass jokes are appalling on a good day." Of course, Merlin knew George from his first days as a manservant. George, the role model that practically every servant despised.

Arthur's eyebrows rose in amusement, but he hummed in agreement. "The other option was to keep him as my manservant."

"What happened to not getting a bootlicker?" Merlin asked.

The King held out his hands. "In my defense, it is Guinevere's fault." With that both boys chuckled, almost nostalgically. "I've missed this," Arthur said softly.

"Well, at least, I can get back to my normal duties now? As your servant, of course."

"My servant?" Arthur repeated, almost offended. "No, Merlin," he denied. At the crestfallen gaze, the King tried to rephrase. "No, I mean..." he coughed awkwardly. "You are a bit overqualified. And I did knight you..."

Merlin grinned. After all, it wasn't commonplace to see Arthur so uneasy, so it was hard not to enjoy the moment. "You can't expect me to run around in metal with a red curtain flapping behind me? A court jester position might make more sense." He joked.

Arthur scowled, as he gave a disapproving glance. "I agree, so I brought back a position." Merlin's eyebrows furrowed slightly, confused. "Court Sorcerer Merlin."

"What?" It was a whisper, that spoke volumes. Years of dreams, of magic returning to Camelot, could never prepare the mighty Emrys for those three words. This was destiny unravelling, and Merlin couldn't help the bubbling joy that threatened to spill out.

Turns out, the warlock didn't need to voice any of that. The King smiled kindly. "You more than deserve it."

"Arthur, thank you, but I need you to know that I am more than happy to serve you –"

"– Till the day you die," Arthur chorused. "I know. You have said that to me, and you have more than proved that to me. Merlin, I understand now how much you have given for me and how much more you are willing to give. It is time I attempt to repay merely a fraction of your pain, loyalty, and kindness. It is the least I can do for you, my friend."

Merlin beamed, happily. The older man was rarely so vocal. And while the past years were undeniably difficult for the young magician, this moment proved to him all the sacrifices were worth this day. "Thank you, Arthur," he replied sincerely.

"So, you will take the position?"

Merlin looked away, gazing at the runes on the walls and the piled books on the floors. Undeniably his curiosity was sparked, and he could only guess the magical knowledge those ancient texts contained. "I suppose I will," he confirmed.

Arthur's eyes lit up, proud that he had finally given something of value back to the brother who had given him so much. But the King had more, and somewhere in his childish brain, he thought the young warlock would appreciate his next gift. Oh, how wrong he would be.

"In that case, I have something to show you." His words prompted the warlock to return his gaze back to the blonde, just as Arthur stood up and walked to wooden wardrobe. Merlin leaned forward slightly, curious as to what the other man was hiding there. Arthur opened the carved door, talking the entire time.

"While you were sleeping, I asked for the best seamstresses in the land to come and make the traditional attire for a court sorcerer. Two sisters stepped forward, and although they kept squabbling with each other, they were undeniably magnificent. It was like they had magic at their fingertips, probably do honestly." The King pulled out a conical hat, folded over slightly at the tip. The fabric was two-toned, rich blue-black velvet with golden stars plastered around the wide rim.

Merlin paled, as his memories took him to his time in the Spirit World. He could practically hear Life and Death snickering in the background.

"Do you like it?" Arthur asked, eagerly waiting for his best friend's response. It was comical, to see the earnest King practically bouncing on his feet, in complete contrast to the appalled warlock.

"Oh, hell no!"

Balance sat across from Destiny, on a small stool opposite to the plain wooden table. She looked to be in her early teens, her beautiful brown curls clipped up loosely so that they still fell onto her maroon satin dress. The beautiful woman laughed, just as the older man closed the book he had just finished reading out loud.

"Oh my," Balance giggled. "It seems my sisters scarred our prodigy with their peculiar wardrobe choice." The old man placed the brown book on the table, his wrinkled hand covering the leather cover with something akin to reverence. The binding on the closed book read 'Book 8735: The Rise of the Golden Age'. Destiny turned towards the head of the Triple Goddess, listening to her continue to speak gleefully. "But I must admit, old man. That is a fine ending to a great tale. Did it go according to plan?"

The older man slowly rose to his feet, walking towards the shelves in the small room that stretched upwards infinitely. His fingers pulled through his white long beard as he stared thoughtfully up at the magically floating candles illuminating the spiral staircase that extended into darkness. "More or less, Balance." His old rustled voice admitted. "With Morgana out of the picture, there are few sorcerers that could pose threat to the Once and Future King and his loyal Warlock.

Balance eyed the ancient man. "Speaking of the Witch, have you heard any updates regarding her from Death?"

Destiny nodded. "I was told she was kept prisoner in the Spirit World and will be sent to Land of No Return tonight. But I was certain your sister had informed you?"

Balance shrugged. "A bit of turmoil in the Land of Immortals and Heroes kept me preoccupied. The head dragons are having a bit of trouble with their dragon lords."

Destiny returned to his desk. "Has it been resolved?"

The triple goddess grimaced. "It could've gone better." Perhaps Balance would've spoken more, but a pungent smell interrupted the conversation. Both occupants turned towards the source, the same book sitting at the center of the desk.

The brown leather cover started to peel away, revealing ink-black wood underneath, just as the golden words on the binding rearranged themselves. With a slight hiss, the book began to smoke. Destiny and Balance leapt to their feet instantly, shocked.

"What's happening?" Balance asked, just as she watched the ancient man shakily reach for the book, now retitled to ''Book 8735: The Fall of Camelot'.

"No," Destiny whispered in denial. He opened the book, reading out loud the now recently added last passage.

Death walked through the abandoned citadel, a cold blue light lit the gray bricks. Her black cloak swept across the brick pavement, as she made her way to the dungeons below the castle. The prison only housed one resident – a rather infamous witch.

Morgana Pendragon glowered through the cell bars. Her disheveled hair fell over part of her face, obscuring her vision, and her arms shackled in front of her. Her tattered dress gave little protection against the cool draft that escaped into the prison. Yet, the witch didn't have an ounce of fear in her brilliant green eyes, nor did her body acknowledge the chill of Death.

Even Death had to admire her open defiance.

"Morgana Pendragon," Death stated as she opened the cell door. "You will be leaving the Spirit World and entering the Land of No Return." The cloaked goddess walked towards the witch, unlocking Morgana's chains from the hook on the floor and tugging lightly. She turned away, leading the witch out of the cell. "And just like the name suggests, there will be no return from that realm." Death rolled her eyes slightly, intending to speak with Destiny about the obviousness with the title.

The witch behind her didn't reply. She didn't so much as tug back on the chains either, obediently following the goddess. These actions contradicted the defiant flames that burned brightly in her green eyes mere moments before.

It wasn't until they had made it out of the citadel and onto a single light path that stretched into eternal black that Morgana spoke up. "Do expect me to abide by a biased decision made by the very goddess I sought to protect?"

Death huffed in annoyance. "You never intended to protect magic. You never worshipped us in the way of Old Religion." Death paused, providing a perfect opportunity for the witch to defend her actions. Morgana didn't interrupt. Death continued. "And we never made a decision. It was your choice at Crossroads. Your prior actions impacted your decision, and you willfully chose me – you chose death." The pale goddess glanced back at her prisoner, scanning her for a reaction. Morgana kept her eyes glued to the pavement under her, refusing to look up.

Death sighed, continuing her trek down the path.

What happened next was unexpected and quick. Morgana's chains rattled, and just as the goddess turned to ask, a large coin was placed against her chest, covering the silver crescent moon locket around her neck.

"Did you think I would go to my demise so silently?" Morgana asked, before speaking in the ancient tongue, her eyes flashing brilliant gold just as the coin glowed. In a swirl, Death vanished, the coin seemingly sucking the goddess inside. The golden coin fell to the ground, echoing across the emptiness.

Morgana smirked as knelt to pick it up. "I knew this had great hunger, but I didn't know the coin could seal a goddess." A risk well paid indeed. She gazed back towards the Spirit World. "Thank you, sister. This is a valuable gift indeed." She smirked as she walked to edge before tossing the coin into the black oblivion below.

"No! This isn't supposed to happen!" Destiny practically screamed. He looked up, intending to ask the head goddess herself for help, but was stopped short. Balance's caramel eyes widened as her body suddenly turned opaque. He reached his arm shakily towards her, only to find thin air passing through his bony fingers. "What's happening?"

"It looks like with Death's absence, the balance in this world has been upset," she answered, even as she observed at her fading body. "This is strong enough," she looked up to meet the cerulean blue eyes. "that it would wipe me out of existence."

The older man shook his head, refusing the accept the transpiring events. "I will fix this." He held out his right hand, closing his eyes before reopening them to a fire-gold hue. Immediately, the floating quills whizzed into his hand, combining into one white feather. He placed the tip on the paper, intending to scratch out the last page.

As soon as the nib came in contact with the parchment, an explosion radiated from the point of contact, flinging the old man against a bookshelf, spilling the books onto him. The blackened book rose into the air, the pages flapping violently.

The lingering ghost of Balance calmly observed the book close shut before shooting upwards into the distant darkness, snuffing out the fireplace and pitching the room into darkness. "It seems you cannot rewrite destiny after all," she mused despondently. Her body glowed faintly, the last source of illumination. With those last words she disappeared, just as Destiny pulled his old aching body from under the weight of the books.

"Balance?" His shaky voice called as his eyes searched for light – any beacon of hope. Only silence greeted him back.

A/N: I wanted to publish this chapter as soon as I could (couldn't help myself haha). I was hoping for more reviews on the previous chapter, but its all good :) I'll take what I can get.

Looks like I just killed two thirds of the Triple Goddess. And somehow allowed Morgana to escape. And destroyed what could have been a happy ending for our buddies at Camelot. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling murderous hatred radiate from my computer screen at the moment :p

I don't know if I can publish the next story (see my profile bio for info regarding that). But I wanted to keep it open just in case. If I never get around to it, please ignore the latter half of this epilogue :)

Special thanks to Mersan123. You have literally been the only one who read and encouraged me for the past 3+ years. Also thank you to all of my reviewers. Your motivation is what allowed me to revive this fic. This was a wonderful journey that I didn't think I could complete. You allowed me to.