154AN: First part of the title: In Which We Not Only Hear Sage Advice From a Bollywood Movie . . .
Changes: Few.
Finis 2
. . . And Almost Witness History Repeat Itself . . .
Previously on TSA:
"You won't be doing this alone, you know," the voice said. "We're here to help you."
And out of the shadows stepped Divina.
"So, what made you change your minds?" Gina asked kindly.
The three sisters stood before them, nervous and uncomfortable. There had been many explanations after Divina had come forward, telling the King, Queen, and Knights what had happened after Arthur and Anne's impromptu meeting. It reminded Divina painfully of the time when Merlin's uncle had threatened Camelot and she'd offered her help.
Divina hesitated, then plowed forward. "It was Melinda," she said, giving her shortest sister an almost proud look. "She was the last to remember, and the first to realize that what we were doing was wrong. She brought us to our senses."
"And here I thought you didn't have any sense at all," Glen said, shaking his head. "Obviously I was wrong."
Melinda, turning as red as her hair, shook her head vigorously. "No, you were right; I've never had any sense, but at least in this life I know what is due to my family and friends. Merlin is not just my cousin anymore, now he's my brother, and I certainly hope I've treated him better than the last brother I had."
At this, Anne shuffled her feet guiltily, obviously remembering how she herself had mistreated that same man.
"We realized that Merlin, in taking us in as children, probably wanted us to come to this same conclusion," said Divina, "but he left us alone today, leaving us to make the choice of our own free will. I don't think he knew if we were going to choose him or Mordred."
They all took a few moments to think about this statement. Arthur shook his head to clear it of unpleasant thoughts, and said: "Well, I'm glad you're here in any case. Lady Freya has just informed us that two armies are making their way here, the two courts of Avalon. Now that we have three sorceresses on our side, this should be easier."
"And Merlin?" Anne said hopefully.
"With Gaheris," Arthur told her. "We just need to find a way to hold the Unseelie off until they get here, then it should be easy as pie."
Freya stepped forward. She had been standing quietly against the wall for some time now. "Might I give a suggestion?" she said, then pointed down a narrow hallway behind the staircase. "That leads to the ballroom. You can bottleneck them in that corridor, and pick them off one by one."
Arthur squinted at it. "You sure they won't try and come at us from behind?"
She shrugged. "If so, there's another narrow hallway on the other side. Most of them aren't going to be smart enough to figure out how to overcome you."
Melinda stepped forward. "Question: won't they be coming after Anne?"
Anne gasped. "You're right! I forgot to give them what I promised, now they'll want revenge! Besides . . . oh, besides, Merlin said that they would follow me, remember? And they have! For years, when I was a child, and even when I was older, I've seen them, they've haunted my sleep and watched me even when I was awake! How could I have been so stupid—"
"In the orphanage!" Melinda cried. "Those nightmares you would have!"
"Oh yeah . . ." said Divina with dawning comprehension. "So, it's Anne they're going to come after specifically. Listen, I could put some sort of spell on the corridors, draw them that way. You lot can stay behind and make sure the Unseelie don't come that way."
She looked so sure of herself, and Arthur, remembering the things that Nimueh could do, nodded. "Great. But we can-"
He stopped short as his phone rang. The whole group went silent in anticipation as he answered.
Arthur only said hello, then he just listened with an ever-darkening expression. Eventually, he put the phone back in his pocket, and looked around.
"That was Mordred," he said, ignoring the gasps. "He's outside, and wants to talk to me." Arthur looked around at them all with a rather despairing expression. "He's got Leon."
Miri decided that if she was ever in the same car with Merlin again, she would be the one driving.
"Relax," he said for the tenth time as they tore down a narrow lane going about five times faster than the car seemed capable of doing. "I've been driving since cars were invented."
This did not reassure her. She looked out the side window and Gaheris smiled at her. He was riding some sort of really fast horse that seemed to be made out of smoke. It was going just as fast as the automobile.
Above them, the two dragons wheeled in the blue sky - not that anyone could see them; Merlin had thoughtfully made them invisible, saying something about Muggles.
"So, I have a question for you," Miri said, after she was pretty sure she wouldn't throw up. "My parents, Dan and Laura, are they really my parents, or is Ulric my father again?"
Merlin looked thoughtful. "I've been thinking about that, actually," he admitted, "and on the whole, I think you might be one hundred percent Caswell."
She raised an eyebrow. "And why do you say that?"
"Well, I have this theory that subconsciously you all remember your previous lives. Now, Uthur never lived long enough to regret hating magic, but he did live long enough to regret - forgive me - the mistake he made with your mother. So, I feel like he probably didn't make that mistake this time, you know?"
Then he smiled at her kindly. "Besides, where else could you have gotten those eyes from but Dan?"
"How many are there?" Luis asked.
"More than enough," replied Arthur. "It's going to take all of us to fight them. Except . . ." He looked at Divina. "Do you think you can hold the Unseelie off on your own? I know you're powerful, and we need all the help we can get, even from Melinda and Anne.
The sorceress nodded confidently. "Of course I can take them," she said, as if to suggest otherwise was to blaspheme.
"Just try and stop them in the first hallway, because if they can get into the ballroom-"
The ballroom was an enormous affair. The two doorways were on one side, at least fifty feet apart. The room was more than twice that long.
"Yeah, I get it. I have a plan," Divina said. "Now, you go and stop Mordred. Go!"
Anne stepped forward, her eyes worried. "Be careful, Divi. There are hundreds of them."
She hugged her sister and left.
Divina turned to look around the narrow passage. Even though her calm facade had not cracked in front of everyone else, inside she was rather panicky. She had just told them she had a plan; now she had to actually think of one.
Of all the times to speak before you think, you just had to choose this time, didn't you Divi? But there was no backing out now (not that she would have), she had to find a way.
Divi prided herself in her clear thinking, her level-headedness when things went wrong. Martin - Merlin - had always praised her calmness. So think. Be calm. What do you do?
What would Nimueh do?
Blast them into oblivion, most likely. But I don't have that option, do I? I'm not Nimueh, I'm Divina, I don't have her power!
Then what will you do? There's no spell that will work, no spell that will hold them back for long enough.
She was suddenly reminded of the curse that Merlin had placed on her when he had been locked in the Crystal Cave. She remembered a bitter Gaheris quoting it before he'd put her to sleep. "When she most needs them, in her darkest hour of need, her precious spells will desert her. She will be left with only memories."
Undoubtedly, this was a dark hour for her, certainly a moment when she needed her powers the most. But she wasn't Nimueh anymore, was she? So why would the the curse take hold? Her mind caught hold upon the thought that Merlin was a Seer; he would know she was doing good and so the curse wouldn't take hold now, would it?
Merlin's words from the that morning came back to her. "I haven't Seen anything of it. It's like . . . there's something I'm not supposed to see."
The gods would ensure Divina's repentance was complete. Merlin had not seen her here, so how would he know? She was doomed. Arthur was doomed. They were all doomed, doomed by her inability to defeat an army Nimueh could have demolished in her sleep. She was flooded with visions of what they would do once they got there. The only one she imagined might have a chance of surviving was Anne, which was not necessarily a good thing.
Divina's heart, already filled with conflicting emotions, seemed to drown in a sudden overwhelming despair. She leaned against the wall, a hand to her face, and sunk to the ground, trying not to cry. She struggled to come to her senses, to be the strong stoic sister she had always been, but every time she came close she was filled with images of the army she had encouraged Vivian to raise, of the devastation she had helped cause. Her shoulders began to shake.
"She will be left with only memories."
She wished she had never met Uther. How many things would be better if he had only met someone else? She wished Merlin really had been Uther's advisor like he was in the legends, for she doubted he would have become as vengeful as she had, would have caused as much destruction as she had.
". . . left with only memories."
She could hear a faint rumbling, the banging of many feet as the army approached. Yes, she had failed. It would be better not to tell anyone, let them assume she had been too late, not let them know of her complete failure.
". . . only memories."
She wished she could remember good things, like the times they'd had growing up. She struggled to remember visiting Stonehenge for the first time, looking up at the tall stones, feeling awe at the faint thrum of magic that encompassed everything there. She remembered running through the woods after Merlin, back when he was 'older' than she was, playing hide-and-seek. She tried to remember hugging Anne and fighting with Melinda.
". . . memories."
The rumbling was louder. Sobbing miserably, Divina stuffed her fingers into her ears and remembered harder.
What had been the first spell Merlin taught her? Creating fire? Telekinesis? She couldn't remember. She also remembered demanding to be shown a 'flashy' spell. What had been that spell? She remembered some forks . . .
The next instant she was on her feet and racing out of the corridor into the big room. Looking wildly around, she struggled to estimate how long it was. A hundred feet? Something like that. And the entrances were on one of the ends. It might work. It just might work.
She almost screamed in triumph; she had always known she liked Merlin, now she knew why - sometimes he said something useful.
But wait! The vital ingredient! For a moment her heart fell-
Then her eyes rested on Anne's backpack, still lying where the girl had dropped it, and she gasped. She rushed over and rifled through it, hoping against hope . . .
Her hand closed around a round container and she almost started crying again. She was starting to really doubt her brother hadn't known this was going to happen. Otherwise, how would he have known about the salt?
To say the talk with Mordred went badly would be to say that having your leg hacked off was a flesh wound.
Arthur had hoped that somehow they could rescue Leon, and maybe even get out of a fight, but he'd misunderstood Mordred when he'd said he had Leon. It became very clear that what he had not meant he had the knight with him. Unfortunately, Mordred still wasn't alone. Arthur was not the only one with re-born allies, and at Mordred's side stood enemies the Once and Future King knew: Morgause, and her husband King Lot, and other knights that had stood against Arthur in times past. Glen and Morgause glared daggers at each other; Gwaine had been the one to finally land a killing blow on the sorceress.
Arthur looked, but he didn't find Miriam among them. He didn't know how to feel about this.
Mordred was much as they all remembered, only a little bit younger, still in his early twenties, but there was still that dark gleam that seemed to eclipse his light eyes.
They exchanged the usual pleasantries: Mordred threatened Arthur's life, limb, and immortal soul, and Arthur pleaded with him to reconsider. Neither arguments did much except make everyone restless.
Morgause, usually careful and reserved, made the first move. She muttered something about wasting time and going nowhere anyway, and (of course), went for Glen first. It was a spell that he didn't have time to dodge, and couldn't block, but Anne solved that by calmly stepping in front of him and flicking it to the side.
Morgause raised an impressed eyebrow. "You've gotten better, Vivian," she said. Anne smiled humorlessly.
"Well, when you have the most powerful sorcerer in existence as your brother and teacher, you do tend to learn a great deal."
Negotiations went steadily downhill from there. Mordred and Arthur engaged, with their fighters on either side. It is said the Old Religion is a religion of balance. Perhaps that is why the two sides were so evenly matched; no one was without an opponent.
Always at the back of Arthur's mind was that question: where was Merlin?
Divina stepped back from her handiwork: there had been just enough salt to mark out a large square in the room. It wouldn't stop the flying creatures, but she hoped her magic would be enough to at slow them down. The sounds of the army coming closer was very near, so she stepped into the opposite hallway, took a deep breath, and spoke the incantation.
"Bregdan awendan."
She knew immediately that it had worked: there was an audible shifting the room, and the ceiling creaked a little from the strain. But it did not break.
She was not a moment too soon, for she could now she movements as the Unseelie army swarmed into the house. Freya had been right, that they would take the easiest route to Anne and Arthur. She grinned in triumph, and stood waiting for them.
They stopped in front of an abandoned apartment complex in London, and Merlin wasted no time in exiting the car. Miri followed, confused.
"Is this where Arthur is?" she asked, eyeing the rather rundown building.
"What? No," said Merlin, "but I believe this is where his most faithful knight is being kept. It's one of the possible places."
There were no other explanations, even though Miri looked askance. Merlin told Gaheris to go on without him, and the two cousins clasped arms in farewell.
"Leon's in there? Miri asked. "What is he doing?"
"Just see, and keep quiet," Merlin admonished her. "I'd like to sneak up on them if it's possible."
Who they were soon became apparent. Merlin had performed a simple revealing spell upon entering, and they followed its direction to the third floor. Merlin pointed to the one of the rooms.
"They're in there," he told her. "I'll disarm them, and you get Leon away." She was about to protest being delegated the easy job, but he was already moving, and she had no choice but to follow.
Merlin decided to go with the kicking-the-door-down route, instead of his usual. It worked in startling the inhabitants alright, so Miri supposed she could forgive such dramatics. There were only three people in the room, two standing and wielding weapons of some sort, and the third, a tall, bronze-haired man that Miri knew quite well as two people, knight and bodyguard, was tied to a chair. She headed for him immediately, not paying attention to the others; Merlin pretty much had them subdued already anyway.
Leon - or Rupert, as she supposed she should call him, as she had called him for many years - was mostly unconscious, with blood streaking down one side of his face. She called his name a few times while untying his legs, and he seemed to come to.
And then he tried to kick her in the face. It was lucky his coordination was off, otherwise she might have lost an eye, but she managed to back out of the way in time. Merlin hurriedly took her place.
"Rupert! Has the Knights' Code taught you nothing?" he admonished.
"Not when it comes to her," Rupert all but spat. "Traitor! And where'd you come from?"
Ignoring his question, Merlin pinned him to the chair with his stern gaze. "New life, new rules," he said. "Morgana is dead, and she's going to stay that way, too. Miriam is helping us. Now, are you going to play nice, or must I put some sort of shield between the two of you so you don't fight?"
The former knight and sorceress eyed each other warily. They had fought so long as Leon and Morgana, it would be hard to put aside all differences, but when Merlin loosed the last knot, Rupert Leal stood slowly and painfully, and held out his hand to her.
"Truce?" he asked.
Miriam Caswell took the hand gratefully. "Truce."
Not all of Unseelie fell prey to Divina's spell; they weren't all as dumb as that. Quite a few backed away from the 'ledge', not sure what had happened but not willing to put their own lives at risk to find out what. There were flying creatures, though, griffins and Sidhe and wyverns, and they took flight for the other side. They looked so strange, because they had to fly sideways to get there.
Divina was ready for them, but before she could so much as raise her hand, an arrow came flitting past and struck one of the Sidhe. It fell without a sound.
Divina turned to see the archer, and felt faint. Elves stood there, bows at the ready, and Divina knew the Seelie Court had arrived at last. Which meant-
"Merlin," she muttered, and ran past the elves. They could take care of their enemies. She wanted to find her brother.
The back lawn of the house was in chaos: The two Courts clashed in every direction, and the air was filled with all manner of creatures; she noted that the white dragon had grown enormously. Looking around, she could have sworn she saw a familiar red-haired man on a horse, leading the charge. But she couldn't be sure.
Turning, she saw Anne facing off against Morgause. Spell after spell flew through the air, rebounding and shattering. The two combatants had expressions of intense concentration on their faces, each determined to win. A griffin fixed its eye on Anne and dove: Divina demolished it. Then a ghoul. Then a weird snappy-thing.
Who'd have thought protecting Anne was a full-time job? she thought. Works for me.
It was, perhaps, inevitable. History was repeating itself, after all. But Arthur had hoped that he would get a little bit further into his role of the Once and Future King before Mordred finished him off.
But not so.
Mordred's blade slide, not smoothly, but gratingly, into Arthur's left lung, possibly getting his heart in the bargain. He heard someone scream, but he didn't think it was him . . . maybe it was. Pain was hard to think around.
Dark triumph flooded Mordred's face, and he pulled back again. Arthur fell to his knees; there would be no chance of him killing his killer this time. He slumped on the ground, breathing heavy, blood pouring, and waited for the final blow.
But Mordred did not finish him off. On the contrary, he was backing away, watching something that Arthur could not see, a wary, almost fearful, look in his eye.
Then Arthur felt the most horrifying thing: someone was pulling Excalibur out of his hand! All the warnings Merlin and Kilgharrah had ever given him about how he should be the only one to wield the sword echoed through his mind, and through the pain he tried to hold on.
A hand grasped his wrist, and a voice said, "Arthur. Let go. I know how to handle this sword."
And he did let go. Excalibur was lifted out of his palm and borne aloft in steady hands, and Mordred stared in angry disbelief.
Arthur allowed himself a small smile before he slipped into unconsciousness. Things may have turned out differently this time around, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Because if there had ever been a better swordsman in Camelot than Arthur Pendragon, it had been his father.
Even through the pain he was aware: voices suddenly came (Too late! he thinks in annoyance), and hands touch him. He can pick out Gwen's panicked but restrained sobs, Gwaine's trembling tones, and several other people he doesn't even try to concentrate on.
"It's you," came the deep voice of Ulric; he was panting a little. "I knew you would come. I knew it."
"I always come," said another, softer, voice, this one even closer. "I just hope it's not too late."
And then - though it seems impossible, he must be hallucinating - calloused hands with long, cool fingers were touching his side, and there is dark hair he can vaguely make out in the approaching darkness, and the soft voice with a lilting accent, one he didn't really recognize. But he knew the words, oh yes.
"Come on, Arthur, what do you think you're doing? Only you would be idiotic enough to get stabbed by the same person, two fights in a row. Seriously, what happened to the most skilled swordsman in Camelot? Did he take a day off?"
Arthur would have laughed, but instinctively knew that would be an awful idea. "Merlin, has it been so long that you've forgotten that you are the idiot? And whatever you're doing, be careful: I don't want to wake up and find all my ribs missing because you can't perform a simple healing spell."
There was a soft laugh, like a breath, and Arthur could see Merlin's grin in his mind's eye; no matter that he couldn't seem to see anything properly. "Well, hello Arthur," the warlock replied, and his voice trembled slightly. "Long time, no see."
Arthur took a breath to reply, but pain seared in his chest and he knew no more.
When Arthur awoke, there was no pain. He was lying in his own bed, warm and comfortable. He felt . . . well, he felt more than fighting fit, to turn an old phrase.
He turned over and threw the covers off, starting to sit up. A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned; his father stood by the fireplace, looking as he always did - except for a red line that ran down the right side of his face, like he'd been nicked by a blade.
They stared at each other for a few moments, the two Petersons, the two Pendragons, and neither really knew what to say. Finally, Arthur asked:
"How did you know?"
Ulric knew what he meant, and he smiled, almost laughing. "Many years ago, your mother bought a typewriter for a very good friend of hers. It was an odd one, because all the Es would land out of place. When I saw the letter that Merlin sent to Rupert lying on his desk, I knew that the sender was that same old friend. And I came."
"You saved my life," Arthur said. "You took Excalibur and killed Mordred, didn't you?"
"And then Merlin healed you," Ulric told him, nodding. "He made sure of everything. I can't imagine any of us would have survived . . . but for him."
Arthur watched his father with a curious eye. It was not like him to display such effusive gratitude, especially for someone like Merlin, no matter what they had done. He opened his mouth to ask, but Ulric raised his hand.
"What happened between me and Merlin will remain, if I have any say in the matter, between us only. The man's not Gaius, and would not want to be forgiven just because he did something right this time."
This did nothing to help Arthur's confusion, but he said nothing. Ulric moved to the door and opened it. "I'll send Merlin up. I believe there's much for you to talk of."
For a full two minutes, Arthur waited anxiously. He'd seen nothing of Merlin in this life, and fifteen hundred years was more than long enough to make someone unrecognizable. He wondered how Merlin had changed, and how he would deal with those changes. It reminded him of what David had said, that he was afraid Arthur would change a lot. Arthur now knew how he felt.
No one knocked, but the door opened softly. Merlin stood there, uncertain, nervous, just as anxious about seeing Arthur as Arthur was about seeing him, and Arthur suddenly caught a glimpse of what Merlin must be feeling. Fifteen hundred years without seeing a person, and you're bound to forget what they're like even if you had an eidetic memory. For Arthur, his memories were fresh, and he worried because he thought Merlin would change, but for Merlin, his memories were old. No matter what they had gone through together, no matter how close they had been, Merlin was having trouble remembering what Arthur was like. A stranger sat on the edge of the bed.
"Are you just going to stand there like a startled stoat, or are you going to come in?"
The words were slipping out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. Merlin blinked, but he smiled a little and moved closer. His outward appearance hadn't changed much, though his hair was a little longer and his whole face quite a bit sadder. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said: "Didn't you call me that once? I seem to remember . . ."
"Yes, and then you called me a toad," Arthur said, amused and annoyed.
Merlin laughed, and it didn't sound any different. "That's the way it was: I would come up with a new insult every other week, and you would always stick to the same old ones!"
"That, Merlin, shows a constancy of character, while your constant changing shows an inability to make up your mind."
"Or a good imagination, and a determination to find the word that best describes you, because I'm not sure even 'prat' covers it," Merlin countered, his eyes shining. "And you're just trying to cover your lack of wit."
"Oho, my lack of wit!"
The conversation went on for some time in this vein, until Arthur finally sighed, and said, "Alright, stop stalling and tell me what you really wanted to talk about."
The immortal warlock hesitated, but he knew it was time to speak of these things, to make Arthur understand. "I thought we might speak of the future. Of what will come."
The Once and Future King frowned. "I've been thinking of that, actually. I don't get it. I'm not exactly in any place to be king, you know. So what do the prophecies mean?"
Merlin smiled. "I've also thought quite a bit about this, and I don't think it means you have to actually be king, like ruling a country. But you could be a different kind of king . . ."
It took Arthur a moment to understand, and then he groaned. "What, you mean like Elvis?!" he demanded.
The warlock laughed heartily at this. "Yes, David told me about your conversation. And yes, I suppose you could say it like that - though I don't recommend you unleash your singing skills on the unsuspecting masses just yet. You might stick with things you're a little better at, like promoting world peace or something." He laughed harder at Arthur's withering glare.
"Right," Arthur said. "I think I get the picture."
"You're in a very good position for this, Arthur," Merlin said earnestly. "With your father's company, and David's influence, and all that. And Glen, too!"
"Glen?"
Merlin looked left and right, as if checking for eavesdroppers, and leaned in a little closer. "Our Glen works for the Irish Secret Service. I didn't even know that until yesterday."
Arthur stared. "The Irish Secret Service?" he repeated. "Good heavens. I fear for them."
Merlin gave him a dirty look. "Anyway. You see what I'm saying, don't you?"
The younger man nodded. "I can't bring paradise," he said, and Merlin shook his head. "But I can try and bring it closer," Arthur mused. "Make the world a better place."
"One person at a time," Merlin said softly.
"Peace."
"Unselfishness."
"Common decency."
"I think you'd have to learn some yourself, first," Merlin said, and dodged automatically.
When the scuffle was over, Arthur changed the subject.
"And what about everyone else? What about . . . Anne. What Anne and Gaheris? How are they doing?"
Merlin hesitated. "There's lots to heal there," he replied. "Many wounds. But she's a different person. A better person. They've both grown. No matter what goes down between them, I have great hopes that they'll both end up happy."
"And the other two?"
"Actually, I do believe your father has already offered Divina a job, working in the legal department. We'll see how that works out. And Melinda and Glen are flirting again. I just wonder how long their relationship will last this time . . . I swear, if she comes home crying again, I don't care if he is my friend, I'm going to break his nose . . ."
This side of Merlin, the protective-older-brother mode, was new. He'd never acted quite like this, even with Gwen and Niniane. He also seemed to have grown a bit more violent if his (possibly not empty) threats were anything to go on.
"And what about you and Gina?" asked Merlin suddenly. "Going to start off right back where you left off?"
Arthur just smiled
Laughing again (he did seem to be doing that a lot), Merlin moved towards the door. "It's lovely to see you again, Arthur," he said, and earnestness was written in the words. "Really. But speaking of Gina, I think she wants to see you, so . . ."
Arthur nodded, and Merlin opened the door again.
"By the way, Merlin," Arthur said, and the warlock turned around again. "What's with that accent? I hardly recognize your voice."
Merlin's eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. "You can talk! You've gone Welsh! Besides, I dare you to live in Ireland for, what, twenty years, and not pick up the inflection. So infectious . . . "
Arthur almost choked trying to hold the laughter down. "Oh, the look on your face," he gasped. "Don't ever change, Merlin. Don't ever change . . . "
"When I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does."
— L.M. Montgomery
Aaaaaaaaand . . . all that's left is the epilogue, which should be up fairly soon. I hope that was a satisfying second half and that I didn't leave too many loose ends;)