For The Ship That Can Never Die

I am a moth

It would’ve been cool to see Merlin struggling to contain all this power especially at the start of the series while he’s still learning to harness his magic:

Like maybe Arthur throws something at Merlin while half paying attention but Merlin’s magic stops it midflight and he has to quickly unfreeze and take the hit to avoid suspicion

Gwen asks Merlin to pass her the washing but it’s moving before he can even get his hands on it and Merlin has to scramble after it to grab the basket midair

Merlin’s carrying a meal up to the princes chambers and trips, his magic catching him and the tray of food and quickly righting them both, and Merlin glances around to see if anyone noticed

Gaius asks him to light a candle and suddenly every wick in the room is lit before he can even finish his sentence

The moment Arthur sees the army, he knows that there is no hope for victory. His men are strong, but they’re outnumbered five to one, and that’s to say nothing of Morgana’s power and any other sorcerers she may have recruited. This, he understands, chest tight, is where Camelot will fall.

Excalibur is heavy in his hands, but still, he holds firm.

Morning is dawning, painting the sky a bloody red, as though it knows the slaughter that will come. It will not be a pleasant death– but at least it will be honorable. He will protect his kingdom and his people until his last breath, and his knights will do the same.

In a few minutes, the carnage will begin. The beginning of the end.

Merlin speaks quietly from behind him. “There’s no hope, is there.” It isn’t a question.

Arthur turns. He told Merlin to stay out of the thick of it, but there was no persuading him; now, his manservant stands in Arthur’s shadow, face grim. Something like fear flashes through Merlin’s eyes, but he doesn’t falter. He has always been braver than Arthur gave him credit for.

Arthur hates that Merlin is here, to be slaughtered at his side, but he is also terribly glad that Merlin will be here with him, at the end.

“It’s not too late for you to go,” Arthur says, which is a lie.

Merlin’s lips twist wryly. “And risk you ruining your armor?”

There’s a shout from across the way.

Arthur looks back to the army; the enemy has hefted their swords and are waiting for their final command. They have only moments.

Merlin steps out of Arthur’s shadow. There is something powerful in the way he holds himself; a surety that Arthur has seldom seen in him. In the dawning light, he looks less like the gangly, clumsy boy Arthur met all those years ago, and more like a warrior or a king. He turns to Arthur, eyes filled in equal parts with regret and determination.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says.

Arthur frowns, but before he can ask, Merlin’s eyes burn gold.

The ground shakes beneath them and Arthur stumbles, unable to look away from Merlin until he hears the cries from afar. His focus snaps to Morgana’s army. The land has begun to cave in beneath them, and within moments, the entire army has been swallowed by the earth. The shaking stops.

Everything is silent.

Arthur watches the gold fade from Merlin’s eyes, numb with shock.

Merlin just used magic. Merlin leveled an entire army without a single word.

Merlin saved them all.

Arthur doesn’t know much about magic, but he knows that such a feat would not have been possible without great power and practice. He wonders how long Merlin has been lying to him. He wonders how many times Merlin has saved him.

“Arthur,” Merlin says, and though he stands defiantly, Arthur only hears the uncertainty in his voice.

“I need to say goodbye to Arthur.”