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The tall green hedges towered over Arthur as he searched desperately for an end to the dark, never-ending maze he was trapped inside. His armour was digging painfully into his side with every corner he turned and he cursed the sorcerer that was making him do this.
He had been walking for what felt like forever and if Anhora had called him all the way out here just to watch him wander in a circle with no end, Arthur was not going to be happy.
Just as he was about to take a right, he felt a strange pull urging him to turn left. A quite insistent pulling feeling. So against his better judgement he listened and there up ahead as he turned around the corner was a doorway that clearly didn’t belong amongst the overgrown green.
The doorway shimmered with a strange glow, instantly putting him on edge while somehow enticing him closer. It was obviously magic. He had expected as much from Anhora’s final test but it still concerned him what could be on the other side.
He stepped over the glowing threshold, one foot after the other and instantly felt a cool breeze hit him. The sun was shining so brightly in the sky he had to squint to see his new surroundings. There was sand stretching on for miles and the deep blue waters crashed in the distance, filing the air with an almost salty smell.
He’d heard of places like this, a small piece of paradise away from the trees and castles of Camelot and all its neighbouring kingdoms. Why Anhora had sent him here though, he couldn’t quite understand. What kind of test could be possibly waiting in store at a place like this?
As he turned away from the sun he noticed two figures just up ahead, standing - waiting - a short distance away. Anhora’s white cloak and wooden staff were not easy to miss and the man watched as Arthur approached.
The other person had their back to Arthur but as he got closer it was impossible to deny who it was. He’d somehow seen the back of his servant’s head enough times to recognise that black mess of hair and well, Merlin was the only person he’d ever seen in that worn brown jacket.
What was he doing here? Arthur told— no, he’d ordered Merlin to stay away. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this mess that Arthur had created.
Merlin watched as Arthur passed him, his eyes shining with guilt as he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He looked as uneasy as Arthur felt as he wrung his hands together and shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“I told you not to follow me.” Arthur chastised him but there was no anger behind his words. He should have known that Merlin would never have done as he was told.
“Sorry.” Merlin repeated but this time a small smile was playing on his lips. He didn’t feel too bad about disobeying orders then and if Arthur was being honest, part of him was glad he wasn’t doing this alone.
It made no sense though for Merlin to be standing opposite from him now, like he was somehow part of the test and the way Anhora was watching them both was not filling him with much confidence.
“Let him go.” Arthur demanded, lifting his chin as he spoke. “He shouldn’t be here. I’m the one who killed the unicorn, he played no part in it.”
“That is correct. But your actions affect those around you. Merlin was with you when you took the unicorn’s life, so he is with you now as you complete this final test.”
The waves crashed in the distance as Arthur looked over at his servant once more. He hadn’t intended to drag him into this. Merlin had been by his side for the previous tests, yes, but he’d never been involved in any capacity – just trailing along as he always did while Arthur faced Anhora’s tricks. But here he was, surprisingly calm as they both listened to Anhora’s words.
The ground glistened beneath Arthur and he watched as the sand swirled around to form two swords – one in front of him, the other in front of Merlin. They looked as well crafted as any weapon forged by the royal swordsmith, but the way the light glinted off the metal made Arthur wary to touch it.
Anhora continued to watch them silently for a moment before speaking again, his words cutting through the wind like a knife. “To pass this test, you must kill your servant.”
It took a moment for Arthur to register the demand. Surely Anhora wasn’t asking him to do something so ridiculous, but the sorcerer’s expression remained stoic and unchanging as he stayed silent. Merlin looked at him with wide eyes, lips parted as if to speak but no words came out. He’d never known Merlin to hold his tongue before, and he’d certainly never seen his servant this scared.
“No.” Arthur replied firmly, fists clenched in outrage. “This test was supposed to give me the chance to redeem myself, what on earth is that supposed to prove?”
“It will prove nothing. But it might teach something. The price of taking an innocent life.” Anhora’s tone was slow and deliberate, making Arthur’s blood boil. How could he be so unfeeling?
“This was supposed to be a test, not a lesson!”
“This is a test, Arthur Pendragon. Can you make the ultimate sacrifice to save your people? One life to save the lives of thousands.”
“If you want a sacrifice, take me! I’m the one who killed the unicorn, I’m the one who should pay for it!” Arthur’s raised voice was clearly doing nothing to convince Anhora. His chest heaving as his mind raced around what to do. Taking an innocent life was never a possibility, but he also couldn’t let his people suffer any longer.
He glanced back at Merlin expecting to see the same anger or even a disobedient quip on the tip of his tongue, but what he saw scared him more than anything. Merlin was looking down at the sword, watching as the sand danced over the metal. He looked determined, but it wasn’t a look Arthur was happy to see. It was the look of a boy who knew what needed to be done.
“No.” Merlin’s eyes flicked up at Arthur’s strong tone. “It’s not happening.”
“Arthur…” Merlin started, noticeably avoiding eye contact.
“Shut up, Merlin. You’re not even supposed to be here. It anyone’s going to pay for a mistake that I made, it’s going to be me.”
“We don’t have a choice.” Merlin spoke through gritted teeth. “If this is what it takes to save everyone in Camelot, then so be it.”
“It shouldn’t take this much! He’s the one deciding this.” Arthur pointed at Anhora as he continued. “So no, he can give us another test because this isn’t happening.”
Arthur could feel the fight leaving him as Merlin continued to stare at him wordlessly. It was an outrageous test for Anhora to set and there was no way he was going to let Merlin die for this but there might not be anyway around it unless the sorcerer changed his mind.
His servant was a pain in the ass. He was lazy, messy, never arrived on time, never seemed to be where Arthur needed him. But he was completely innocent in all of this. Arthur was the Prince of Camelot, if anyone was going to sacrifice himself for his people, it was going to be him. It was his duty.
“I will do it. I will save my people.” Arthur lifted his chin defiantly as he addressed Anhora once more.
“Prove it.” Anhora spoke slowly, the roar of the waves seeming to dim with each word. “Prove you can save your people. Even with your clouded judgement.”
Before either man could comprehend his vague notion, Anhora lifted his wooden staff a few inches into the air then banged it hard into the sand. The contact let out a dull echo that, for a single second, silenced every other noise around them.
Then the world turned blurry right in front of Arthur’s eyes. There was a ringing in his ears and as he lifted his hands to rub at them he noticed the unexpected weight of the sword in his grip. There was the sea in the distance and sand beneath his feet, and in front of him was a man. But it was strange, he couldn’t quite make out the man’s features - like a clouded face in a dream. The sorcerer to his left was clear though and the reason for him being there slammed back into focus. He was here to finish the final test.
“One life for the lives of your people.” Anhora’s voice echoed in his mind. Arthur couldn’t understand why he would be asked to do such a thing, but he knew he needed to help his people. As hard as it was, he would have to take one life to save the people of Camelot.
Maybe the man deserved it. Maybe Anhora had chosen him because he had done wrong and maybe by killing him Arthur would be doing Camelot two favours. Or maybe he was just an innocent caught up in Anhora’s tricks.
Either way, the man in front of him was ready for battle, sword in hand, charging towards him and Arthur had no choice but to defend himself.
Anhora’s test was worse than Merlin had expected. The first two had been tough for Arthur, as proud and headstrong as he was, but the intentions behind them had been clear: Prove yourself pure of heart. This final test though, proved nothing of the sort. There was an air of revenge in Anhora’s request as he asked Arthur to sacrifice an innocent to save the lives of many.
Merlin would give his life gladly if it meant saving his Prince and the kingdom he had grown to call home, but the test would prove nothing. It was clearly designed only to cause Arthur pain once it was complete, the type of pain Anhora was surely facing after losing one of his treasured unicorns.
Arthur had taken him aback though with his persistence. Sure, he and the Prince had somewhat bonded over their time spent together, but with an easy solution to Anhora’s test, a small part of Merlin had been certain that Arthur would go ahead with it. That he would sacrifice his servant to save the lives of his people. So when he hadn’t, Merlin had been surprised.
But add magic to the mix and suddenly everything changed. He could see the moment Arthur’s perception was stripped from him. There was a haze in his eyes that hadn’t been there before and he looked at Merlin without an ounce of recognition. The knightly duty to protect him was suddenly gone.
Anhora thumped his staff once more and swords on the ground instantly rose into their hands. It felt unnatural having someone else’s magic force him to do something and try as he might he couldn’t release his grip around the handle. The sword was light in his hand, like the air around him was taking most of the weight and before he could stop it the sword was moving, thrusting forward by itself, ready to fight.
Merlin tripped over his own feet as he was pulled forward, the sword eager to meet Arthur’s oncoming attack and though a second of hesitance clouded Arthur’s features, the Prince quickly lifted his own sword and began the combat.
The outright refusal to fight him was clearly gone, but even Merlin could tell that Arthur wasn’t actively trying to kill him. He blocked Merlin’s strikes, once, twice, again and again as he was forced backwards each time, his movements steady and precise from years of training. Arthur knew what he was doing and though he was defending himself now, eventually he would have to make a choice.
Try as he might, Merlin just could not let go of the sword, his fingers locked in spell-bound grip. His arm was already aching from the sword’s violent movements and felt his wrist might snap if he didn’t try to move with it. He needed to let go. If Arthur didn’t do what needed to be done and the sword Merlin was holding ended up killing the Prince, well— that just could not be allowed to happen.
He wondered, in between the ringing of sword striking sword, if this was how the knights felt when they fought. When faced with an enemy — and their own very possible demise — did they feel what Merlin was feeling right now as they blocked blow after blow. The fear, the dread, the waiting for the moment they would receive that fatal blow.
He didn’t want to die. Even if this was his destiny, he didn’t want this to be the end, there was so much he still wanted to do. Not to mention he hadn’t said goodbye, to Gaius, to his mother. He didn’t want to die and every painful reverberation that ran up his arm from each strike was like a blow to the heart.
Arthur was fighting back now, his sword swinging downwards just inches from Merlin’s head. The sound of metal thwipping through the air making him blink in surprise before his arm was swung instantly in the opposite direction to meet it. There was a determination on Arthur’s face that Merlin had seen often enough, on the training field, in the council chamber, in his quarters when Merlin was being particularly defiant. The Prince knew what needed to be done.
His breath caught in his throat as the sword swung close again. Left, right, left, down. If he closed his eyes for a second, it would feel like the training sessions Arthur would often force him to run through. Merlin’s severely poor fighting skillset gave Arthur no actual practice, but Arthur was known not to pull his punches regardless and it was a source of great joy for him before his actual training session would begin.
Body, shield, body, shield. Yes, it would feel exactly the same if only he had a shield in one hand and had control of the other.
The blows were unrelenting and Merlin almost tripped once again as he was forced backwards. Until, in one breath, Arthur flicked his wrist in a move that Merlin had always secretly admired and disarmed his servant in an instant, Merlin's open palm splayed against the breeze as it finally relinquished its grip. The sword swung through the air, cartwheeling across the blue sky before landing upright in the sand. The magic holding it close was gone, but he only had a moment to register the lack of tingling under his skin, before a whole new feeling took over. Pain.
Merlin felt his breath leave him entirely as Arthur forced the metal blade clean through his stomach and suddenly the world went white.
He couldn’t focus on anything, his hand unconsciously pawing Arthur’s as he still held onto the hilt. Everything felt too loud and too quiet as his mouth gaped open, struggling to draw in any breath.
Arthur was almost leaning against him, his chest heaving as his body registered that the fight was finally over and after a moment the Prince’s whispered words tickled in his ear. “I’m sorry.”
Merlin couldn’t remember what he was sorry for. He couldn’t remember anything. He couldn’t focus on anything. There was a ringing in his ears and his nerves felt like they were on fire and non-existent at the same time then the shaking in his legs made him realise that he couldn’t stay standing any longer.
Arthur stepped back, removing the sword from its target as he did so with one quick swift movement. Merlin barely felt it regardless of how his body jolted from the pull but with the man in front of him no longer taking his weight there was nothing to keep him upright. And as Arthur blinked at him, his eyes widening in shock, Merlin’s knees buckled and he fell down onto the awaiting bed of sand.
As Arthur’s blade pierced the mysterious man’s stomach, an immense sense of guilt rushed through him. This wasn’t the first time he had taken a life — the fair few battles he had fought for Camelot had seen to that — but this time it felt different. It felt wrong, like he shouldn’t have gone through with this no matter what it meant for his people. Camelot had been saved from starvation yet he didn’t feel like celebrating.
He was out of breath from the fight and forced himself to swallow against the dryness in his mouth before whispering a useless apology and moving back to look at the man. It would do the man no good and did very little to ease Arthur’s conscience but the least he could do was look at him in the eye. Only the sight in front of him had his breath catching in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief as everything around him became clear once again.
This couldn’t be happening. He’d been fighting a stranger, an unrecognisable figure, but there was nothing unrecognisable about the man in front of him - his tatty brown jacket, his trademark red scarf, his dark mess of hair that he had seen everyday for months.
His servant was standing in front of him, gasping for breath, not saying anything but paling rapidly in front of Arthur’s very eyes and suddenly the sword in his grip felt incredibly heavy as he realised exactly what it was that he had just done.
“No, no, no.” He gasped, trying to catch Merlin as he fell, but as he reached out clumsily, he did very little to stop him from hitting the sand with a thump.
Merlin grabbed feely at his stomach, blood instantly coating his fingers as it soaked through his shirt and Arthur felt sick from the sight of it. He dropped to his knees and let his hands hover uselessly above Merlin’s stomach for a moment before pressing down onto the wound.
Merlin let out a weak groan, a pitiful sound barely more than a gasp as his unfocused eyes roamed in search of the source of his pain.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Arthur whispered around the lump in his throat. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his mistake, he was supposed to pay for killing the unicorn, not Merlin. Why did Merlin even come today?! Arthur had told him to stay in the castle. He’s ordered him to stay put and let Arthur deal with it by himself. But no, his disobedient servant had to go and ignore his orders and follow him all the way out here, miles from home, miles from help. And now, here he was, blood soaking into the sand, eyes closed—
Arthur was surprised he could focus on anything over how loud his heart was beating in his ears, but Merlin’s chest was no longer moving and his eyes were closed and Arthur had seen enough dead bodies strewn across battlefields to know what he was looking at.
“Merlin?” He shook his servant’s shoulders, desperate for a reaction other than the lifelessly lolling of his head against the sand. But there was nothing. His servant remained motionless, his lips parted but no longer drawing in breath.
Arthur felt sick all over again and he shakily pushed himself to his feet and began pacing before he even realised what he was doing, running his hand across his face. He needed to calm down and let his brain catch up to whatever the hell had just happened. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He’d just killed his servant, his frien—
Suddenly something caught his eye. A bright glint of light bouncing off something just up ahead. As he squinted against the sunlight, the shape of a sword upright in the sand became clear, as did the reasoning for how this had happened.
“Anhora!” He screamed into the universe as he quickly realised the sorcerer was nowhere in sight, but his only answer was the rhythmic crash of the waves that still sounded in the distance.
“Show yourself!” He yelled out again, but still nothing. The sorcerer would not reveal himself so Arthur stomped back to his sword, hearting still beating wildly in his chest, and picked it up from where it was lying at Merlin’s feet. He grabbed the hilt ready to threaten the sorcerer to show himself, to pay for what he had made Arthur do, but as he looked down at his hand he froze.
Blood still coating his palm now covered the silver of the handle. Merlin’s blood. Blood that was only there because Arthur had put it there. Because he’d failed the previous test. Because he’d killed the unicorn. He’d let his pride get the better of him when he killed Evan and doomed his people and now he had killed Merlin to save them.
As the sword shook slightly in his grip he wanted nothing more than to take to his pain and guilt out on the sorcerer, but if he threatened Anhora then when did it all end? The last time he didn’t atone for his mistakes the curse worsened and if Anhora ended up choosing not to reverse the curse because Arthur got angry…
Merlin couldn’t have died for nothing. He just couldn’t.
The sword slid from his grasp as he dropped to his knees once again. The red of the sand crept out towards him and he squeezed his eyes shut against it, hanging his head as he took a shaky inhale.
“I’m sorry, Merlin.” He looked over at his servant, noticing how the breeze gently swept the boy’s fringe out of place. He wanted to fix it, wanted to make him presentable, but it was like he couldn’t move from his spot, his limbs frozen in place. “I’m sorry for getting you involved— for dragging you into my mess.”
Arthur had always thought that Merlin was too pale, in fact he’d often teased him about his deathly pallor, but right now he’d do anything to see it again. Anything to replace the grey tone that had taken hold of his cheeks and across his eyelids.
“I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have killed that unicorn, I just— I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of this.”
A few minutes of joy on his weekly hunting trip had caused his people so much heartache and suffering and if he could take it back, he would in an instant.
“Congratulations Arthur. You have done well.” Anhora’s voiced boomed across the quiet and it made him jump. Anhora was standing to his left, the wooden staff no longer in sight and Arthur blinked in confusion. Congratulations? For what? For killing his servant? He clenched his fists shut and pressed them firmly against the sand, stopping any temptation from grabbing the sword and running the man through.
“It takes a strong man to make a difficult choice for the greater good.” Anhora continued but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to listen to the words.
Anything that man had to say meant nothing to him now. As long as he kept his promise and revoked the curse then Arthur wanted nothing more to do with him.
“But more than that, it takes courage to show remorse. To take regret in your actions and learn from past mistakes.”
The sorcerer would never know how it felt to take the life of someone he cared about. He would never know how it felt to see the life leave their body and soak into the ground. He would never know how it felt to have to tell that person’s loved ones that they wouldn’t be coming home.
“It is something that will hopefully stop you from repeating those same mistakes in the future.”
Oh god— he still had to get Merlin home. They were miles from Camelot and the thought of having to ride for hours with Merlin draped uncomfortably across the horse’s back made his chest tighten. And then he’d have to tell Gaius and Guinevere and Morgana and his mother. He dug his knuckles further into the sand as he tried to swallow past the lump still sitting in his throat.
“Your actions will bring their own reward.”
As he squeezed his eyes shut, his brain slowly registered the man’s words. The same words that Evan had spoken when Arthur had passed the first test. The same trick wrapped in a meaningless riddle, words that led to an unnecessary death hidden amongst Camelot’s salvation.
He wanted to scream at Anhora to stop talking — anything that would release this crushing weight from his chest — but as he looked up, eyes narrowed in a glare, all that greeted him was the vastness of the beach. Anhora was gone.
Then, something moved next to his hand, lightly bumping his knuckles and it drew his attention back to the ground. Merlin’s hand which had previously been resting against the sand was drawn lightly into a fist. Arthur furrowed his brow, unsure of what he was seeing as the hand shifted ever so slightly once more. But then as a weak groan passed through Merlin’s lips Arthur’s frown slowly grew into a hesitant grin, his eyes growing wider with every sound, every movement, every flutter of his eyelashes until Merlin was blinking up at him, confused but alive.
“Arthur?” Merlin croaked as he immediately tried to push himself up, using his elbows for support. He barely made it a few inches off the ground and would have fallen straight back down without Arthur grabbing his shoulders, carefully easing him up to sitting. Merlin instinctively reached for his side, his hand ghosting over the tear in his tunic and they both held their breath as he lifted the material to peer underneath.
“It’s healed.” Arthur whispered in awe as he gazed at the unblemished skin, his hand reaching out as if to touch it before he pressed it back into the sand. There was no sign of any injury, no evidence that a killing blow had ever been dealt. He couldn’t believe it.
Merlin looked up at him with wide eyes that matched his own but as Arthur looked close he could see some hesitancy there, some fear. And why wouldn’t there be? Merlin had just died. No— it was worse than that. He’d just been killed, by Arthur’s hand no less. Of course he was going to be afraid.
“I’m sorry.” He blurted out before his brain had time to articulate a full sentence. It was like it couldn’t catch up, so consumed by the joy, surprise, relief, confusion, guilt all sloshing together inside and threatening to spill over.
Merlin’s lips parted for a moment then pursed again before he had a chance to speak. His fingertips fiddled with the edge of the torn material as he looked past Arthur at their surroundings. Such a beautiful place, too beautiful for what had just occurred. He glanced at red still staining the sand around them and Arthur couldn’t blame him for not having the words to respond. But as he met Arthur’s eyes once more, his gaze holding on so intently, the corners of his lips upturned into a small smile and he shook his head minutely as he did so. It’s okay.
Arthur swallowed back his remorse and took an unsteady breath. He could still feel his heart beating frantically beneath his chainmail and his whole body was almost vibrating. Nervous laughter bubbled up out of both of them as everything started to sink in. Arthur watched as the colour crept back into Merlin’s face, a rosy tint settling on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It was like the past ten minutes had never happened.
Arthur looked around once more in the hope that Anhora had reappeared, but again he was greeted by the crashing waves and long stretch of sand. He felt almost lightheaded with gratitude and an overwhelming urge to thank the sorcerer.
For despite every argumentative comment and questionable action Arthur had committed, Anhora had taught him a much needed lesson but he had been kind enough not to completely break his spirit.