They were outnumbered. Sir Kai didn't know by how much, but he knew it was bad.
There was a sorcerer. An old man up on the rocks. Sir Kai knew in his bones they were about to die.
He fought anyway. It was only two opponents later that he realized the lightning wasn't directed at them.
And the man was no longer old.
. . .
The second he loosed the first lightning strike, Merlin knew this wasn't going to work. He needed power and precision, and he couldn't have that and an aging spell. Not yet, at least.
Gaius was going to kill him, but - Arthur needed him.
Merlin discarded the guise of the old man. In full view of the knights of Camelot, he was just himself.
And something - clicked.
He could feel where to strike the ground to open it. He could force the wind into a point to send the Saxons flying. He could slow time like he hadn't for yeras and pick them off at his leisure.
He could see Mordred. He could see Mordred forcing his way toward Arthur.
He could stop that with one well placed bolt.
Son of earth and sea and sky -
The magic wasn't in the books. It wasn't in a corner of his mind. It wasn't in him at all.
It was him.
Merlin shouted as he called down fire on the fleeing Saxons. He looked around for more.
There were none.
Merlin lowered his arms. He felt exhilarated. It had been easy. Like now that he had fully embraced his destiny, it had fully embraced him. He could do this forever. He could -
The smell hit him. So did the realization of what he'd done.
Merlin threw up.
"So you're the great Emrys," Morgana said from behind, voice shaking with rage and dripping with mockery.
Power surged out of him as he turned.
. . .
There was a thin path that led up the cliff. Arthur ran for it.
He'd been in the thick of the fighting when the lightning hit. He'd assumed it was Morgana and fought on grimly until he realized the corpses weren't in Camelot armor.
That was when he'd risked a glance up.
Merlin.
But - Not Merlin. Not Merlin, who hated hunting. Not Merlin, who looked sick at every execution. Not Merlin.
Like there had been Not-Gaius when the goblin escaped. Like when Cornelius Sigan had possessed that sycophantic servant.
Not Merlin, Arthur had realized in horror. That was why Merlin had been acting so oddly. Not Merlin at all, not Merlin in control at least.
Not Merlin, but Merlin was right there, a giant target, so Arthur ran.
Not Merlin. He wasn't losing Merlin.
He was tired from the battle, but he made it to the top in time to see Morgana facing off against whoever had stolen Merlin.
The air felt charged. The ground was scorched.
And he couldn't let Morgana kill Merlin, no matter who was possessing him.
Morgana started to turn -
Arthur's sword bit through her chest. Right through the heart.
She fell.
It was done. After all these years and all this death, she was gone.
But Merlin was still here. Merlin could still be saved.
Arthur raised his sword. "Get out of him." His voice was admirably level, considering it came out through gritted teeth.
Not-Merlin faltered. "Arthur, it's me."
"Don't try that with me," Arthur growled. "Get out of him, whatever you are."
Not-Merlin raised his hands and stepped forward. Arthur tensed. "My mother's name is Hunith. The first time we met, you were throwing knives at someone's head. You gave me your mother's sigil." He stopped just outside the reach of the sword. "I - I know you're angry. You shouldn't have had to find out like this, but - But I only use the magic for you, Arthur. I've stuck with you through everything. You know that."
And that - That look was pure Merlin, but it didn't make sense. It didn't add up. "Merlin told me magic had no place in Camelot."
Possibly-Merlin winced. "Mordred was destined to kill you. I had to look at the bigger picture."
Arthur's arm wavered. That shouldn't be Merlin. That should never have had to be Merlin.
But thinking back on the past few years, he couldn't say it wasn't.
And Merlin was still talking. Talking about a light in a cave and magic pinned on Will. Talking about other things that hadn't added up. Talking so fast it all blurred together.
Babbling, in other words.
Definitely Merlin.
Arthur sheathed Excalibur. It was only then it occurred to him that just because the sorcerer was Merlin didn't mean the sorcerer wasn't dangerous, but -
Merlin had relaxed, shoulders slumping inward. "I think I can help the wounded. The magic's all up and kind of bubbly. I think it wants to be used. I mean, assuming you're okay with this now. You are, aren't you?" he asked anxiously.
Arthur wasn't. He really, really wasn't.
But his only other option was to replay Morgana's story all over again, and he couldn't bear to do that.
"Less talking, more walking," he said. "Gaius will be worried." So would Gwen and the knights.
He still wasn't okay with this.
But he would be.
A/N: Not entirely happy with this, but it's as good as it's going to get.
