The Redemption Arc (A BBC's Merlin Fanfiction)

Chapter 33

PLEASE listen to the instrumental as you read. 

When the procession came to take away the King, Merlin found all eyes on him. He hated how the woman took Morgana by the arms to hoist her up. He hated that she had to shake her off, and he hated that Morgana had to stand tall. He hated that she had to compose herself for his own sake and Gwen's. He hated to see Gwen like this. 

He could see how she broken she was. Gwen wasn't like him or Morgana. She knew her mind and her heart. When she walked towards them with the procession, she was still in shock, although her body did not betray her. When she saw Arthur, she fell to her knees, much like he did, and let out the most gut-wrenching scream he had ever heard. She cried besides his body, and caressed his hair, which remained golden although it was matted with mud. She whispered to him how she loves him with all her heart over and over again, and Merlin remembered how those particular words were the ones Arthur said to save Gwen, a long, long time ago. 

Merlin remembered the first time he had ever met Arthur. He looked different to him in memory. That was hardly the Arthur he knew at all. Even the name sounded sweeter to him now. That was a boy, of muscles and bones, with spears and swords. Eager to prove, prone to anger. He remembered that boy in tones of red. 

He remembered how he had gripped and twisted his arm and how much he had truly hated him. He remembered the acidic face he pulled when the King assigned him as his manservant. He remembered the names and the insults.

The Arthur he knew now always appeared to him in visions of gold. He was a king, through and through, before the crown had ever touched his head. He remembered how it was second nature for Arthur to throw himself in front of Merlin in the face of danger. He remembered the countless times Arthur had pleaded to let Merlin go safely, offering up himself instead. He wished he could forget, because he could hardly take the pain in his heart. 

He remembered his gratitude for saving his life. He remembered how he saved his village. How kind he was to his mother. Oh, the things he remembered. 

Morgana's attempt to save Arthur by giving him part of her life was all that was keeping him on his feet. He could not feel her emotions anymore. If he had to bear Morgana's pain as well, his head would fall as if with the weight of the sky. 

As the procession marched by the water, Merlin closed his eyes. He had said goodbye to several of his friends, watching them as they burned and left all their burn scars on his own body. He could not do the same for Arthur, no matter how hard he tried. He heard the sound of the boat creating gentle ripples in the water, of the sorrowful crows of birds, of Gwen's soft breathing as she tried to hold her sobs. 

Then slowly, the sound of the water intensified. The ripples sounded as if they were waves. The waves sounded as if they were resentful of the boat, beating across it. The waves then merged with the sky and it sounded as if it were raining although the trees stayed dry. Merlin opened his eyes, confused. 

Water droplets remained suspended in the air. Gwen immediately looked at him, puzzled. Morgana's eyes were fixed on the droplets, piecing together something. She then looked over at him and mouthed, "Vilia."

Merlin held Morgana's gaze, then took a few steps forward. "Have you come to mourn the King?" he asked softly. 

Murmurs of sorrowful appreciation broke out among the crowd, and the sound of the rain intensified as if in reply. The crowd immediately hushed. 

Merlin could finally see a face in one of the water droplets. She smiled at Merlin benevolently, then turned to Gwen. 

"Queen of Hearts, we are Vilia, spirits of the brooks and streams."