Stand Tall

Part Fifteen: Green and Gold

Some things made more sense, and others made less in the twilight of the hour. As swiftly as the bird for which he was named, Merlin crept around the edge of the lake. He was heading for the old mill house, where he used to practice magic on the off chance. It had long since been abandoned. The calm of these small hours gave the warlock a feeling of clarity - like what he was going to do was the right decision. The grass was a deep emerald, and water soaked up in his footprints. Wood dust and rust chips fell as he shoved the door open with his shoulder, the remains of a latch still holding on. The waterwheel creaked and turned doggedly at the mouth of the stream, a fact that he could see plainly through a missing piece of the wall. Barely seeing the outline of a candle on the table, Merlin reached towards it, and the wick lit with magic. The candle cast a strange, solemn light over the mill house's remains. He shrugged off his pack, and opened it, pulling out the drinking horn with a calm sort of resolve. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and walked over to where the wheel turned. Glassy water cascaded into the horn, filling it in seconds. He leaned against the wall, and slid down to sit at it's base. This was really happening. He knew what he had to do. It had to be this way.

The brilliant gold winked at him, as if goading him on. Daring him to take a sip. The Horn itself was a thing of beauty. A dragon reared along the side, a ruby glinting at it's lustrous throat. A line of runes - in a strange language - was written in a ring just below the lip.

Stop. He was getting distracted...

...But persistent blades of emerald green grass had begun to reach through a crack in the stone floor. They were so beautiful, in a strange and lonely way.

Merlin laughed a tiny bit. He remembered now; remembered what he'd been dreaming of for so long. This. The gold of the horn, the water within, the green of the grass, and the language of runes. It all made sense. Maybe this was how it ended - his final moments spent in an effort to keep Camelot safe. The She creature would kill him for sure, if he drank so much as a drop.

The young man's thoughts were of his friends and his lover when he tipped the horn's contents down his throat. He tried not to think. The ground trembled lightly, and dust fell from the ceiling. Merlin got up, blew out the candle, and stepped outside to await his fate. He could feel water cooling his feet through his boots as it seeped up around them. Tingly, a little bit pleasant. He closed his eyes. It was a good sensation to be his last.

"...Merlin?" he heard a familiar voice behind him. The warlock whirled around to see Braith, standing not far off with a look of confusion on her face.

"Braith, what are you doing here?" he asked, a bit dismayed as the girl came running over. He wanted her out of harm's way.

"Shhh, that doesn't matter. She's on her way," the young Dane whispered urgently. Their gazes met. Merlin noticed how beautiful she looked there and then. She kissed him, and he completely melted into her arms. Paralyzed. Helpless. Blissful.

---

Braith trotted along through the leaf-littered woods, following the rustlings and snapping of twigs the creature made in its wake. The Dane now had a good idea of what Merlin was going to do. He'd stolen the horn, and thought he could take Her on by himself. Oh how wrong he was! She only hoped she could find him before it was too late. Mud mushed underfoot and she could see a lake not far to her left. And saw Merlin standing there too. But... there was someone else. Someone else snogging him. Braith's heart dropped and her blood grew cold. She felt betrayed, and downright livid, but as she got closer, she could see the woman better. Long inky hair and pale skin, the pants and the black tunic. It was another version of herself - Another Braith! Which could only mean...

An unnatural gold-scaled tail came around from the other Braith, poised to kill the unsuspecting servant. Of course. Being a shape-shifter meant the She could regenerate body parts, so Gawain hadn't done anything by chopping off Her tail. And what better way to kill than to do what the Lamiae are best at? Seduction.