Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

ARTHUR

As we reached the end of the stone bridge, I felt a strange tingling sensation wash over me. The air seemed to shimmer and pulse with an otherworldly energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I glanced at my companions, seeing the same mix of wonder and unease reflected in their eyes.

"Look," Lancelot breathed, pointing to a shimmering orb of light that had materialized before us. It bobbed and weaved in the air, leaving a faint trail of stardust in its wake.

As I approached, the orb pulsed brighter, and a melodic voice echoed in my mind. "Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future Queen," it whispered.

“In the realm where legends weave, A queen awaits, her fate to cleave. In shadows deep, where whispers call, To Avalon, the fabled hall. Through the Wandering Wood, you must tread, Where paths entwine and secrets spread. The fae will guide with a shimmering light, But only the brave will win the fight. Seek the place where time stands still, A chalice awaits to test your will. Embrace the quest, let courage swell, For the Holy Grail's tale is yours to tell.”

The riddle's meaning crystallized in my mind with startling clarity, as if the words had been etched there all along, waiting for this moment to reveal themselves. Avalon would be the stage for our final trial.

I turned to tell the knights, but the words died on my lips as I saw Tristan's eyes roll back, then glowing white, his body going rigid. Tristan's voice, usually so gentle and measured, took on an otherworldly timbre as he spoke.

"The chill of the air, that carries despair, It wraps around your throat, a noose of thin air. Discover the rune of wind, in its haunting snare. When gathered in silence, beneath the black sky, Murmur the incantation, let your souls fly. But beware, noble knights, for the darkness will test, Only the purest of souls can withstand this quest. For Avalon beckons, but not without cost, Step forth into shadows, for all else is lost. The portal shall open, with a wail and a moan, Face the final trial, where the lost are alone.”

Tristan’s body gave a jolt, then his eyes faded back to their usually icy silver. He took in a long breath and staggered back a step. Gawain caught him by the shoulder and steadied him.

“I didn’t catch a lick of that,” he muttered with a nervous laugh.

Tristan righted himself, giving Gawain a nod of thanks. “It means we’re going to Avalon for the final trial, but it has to be Arthur who opens the portal.”

My chest tightened. He was right. The riddle spoke of a rune that would carry us to Avalon. But I didn’t know how to create runes. I said as much, and the knights turned almost as one to Merlin.

He met my eyes, his expression still as closed off as it had been the night before. “I’ll teach you,” he said. “We don’t have much time, so you have to pay attention.”

Lancelot stepped between us, his hand resting on Merlin’s shoulder. “Let’s get away from the bridge first. We need to find a place to camp for the night.”

I turned, looking longingly at the stone bridge, but I couldn’t see past the fog to where our horses waited. There was no going back for them, so we’d be traveling the rest of the way on foot.

As we walked, Merlin fell into step beside me, his expression still guarded. "To create a rune, you need to focus your will and channel your magic through a physical medium. In this case, we'll use Excalibur."

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat at his proximity after being so viscerally angry with him. "How do I do that?" I pulled the sword free and held it tightly. The blade glowed ever so faintly golden. “I can feel the magic running through it, but I still don’t know how I’m supposed to wield it.”

With a furrowed brow, I tried to focus on the magic thrumming through Excalibur as we walked. The blade pulsed like a heartbeat, sending tingles up my arm. I imagined the magic was a glowing thread, and I tried to grasp it mentally, to pull it from the sword and into myself. But it was like trying to catch mist with my bare hands. The harder I focused, the more it seemed to slip away.

"You're thinking too much," Merlin chided gently, his voice startling me from my concentration. "Magic isn't something you force. It's a part of you, like breathing. You have to let it flow naturally."

I shot him a wry look. "Easy for you to say. You've been doing this your whole life."

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his lips. "And you will too, in time. For now, just relax. Clear your mind and let your instincts guide you."

I took a moment to breathe, trying to let the tension drain from my shoulders as we walked. The air was cool and damp, filled with the earthy scent of moss and decaying leaves. Shafts of pale sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the forest floor in a patchwork of light and shadow.

Ahead of us, Gawain and Galahad were deep in conversation, their voices low and conspiratorial. Suddenly, Galahad let out a bark of laughter, quickly stifling it as Gawain punched him in the shoulder. Gawain grinned, his gray eyes sparkling with mischief. I strained my ears, trying to catch what they were saying, but their voices were too low.

Merlin muttered, rolling his eyes. "Those two are ridiculous."

Glancing up again, right as Galahad peered over his shoulder, I laughed. He sent me a cheeky wink that had a warm flush running through my body.

I tried to follow Merlin's advice, letting my mind drift and my body relax. I focused on the sensations around me. On the crunch of leaves beneath my boots, the whisper of the wind through the branches, the warmth of Excalibur's hilt in my palm. Gradually, I became aware of a subtle thrumming sensation, like a second heartbeat pulsing in time with my own. It was the magic, I realized, flowing through me like a river of molten gold.

I released a soft gasp, and Merlin glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. "You feel it, don't you?"

I nodded, too awed to speak. It was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes, revealing a world suffused with shimmering energy. I kept this going for hours, pulling and pushing my magic to and from the sword. Merlin said the trick to honing your magic was ultimately through familiarity and repetition.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in vivid hues of orange and pink, we finally stumbled on the perfect spot to make camp. Nestled in a small clearing beside a bubbling stream, the site was sheltered by towering oaks and flanked by a mossy embankment that would provide a natural barrier against the chill of the night air.

I let out a sigh of relief as I shrugged off my pack, feeling the weight of the day's journey lift from my shoulders. The knights wasted no time in setting up camp, falling into a well-practiced routine. Gawain and Galahad set about gathering firewood, their easy banter and laughter echoing through the trees as they worked. Lancelot sparked their kindling, and soon the area was glowing with warmth.

Tristan and Percival patrolled the surrounding area, whispering under their breath, no doubt setting up wards. Tendrils of shadow surrounded Percival, and I watched, mouth agape, as he sent out those shadows into the darkening woods, searching for potential threats. My cheeks heated with the memory of how those tendrils felt as they skimmed my naked body while Percival fucked me slowly.

As if sensing my eyes on him, he turned. I held his dark stare, heat simmering between us like a furnace. There wasn’t a single part of me that regretted what we did. I’d do it again in a heartbeat if given the chance. I only hoped we were given the chance again, when all was said and done.

Merlin knelt beside the stream, filling our water skins and murmuring softly under his breath. The water seemed to shimmer and dance around his fingers, responding to his whispered incantations. He glanced up, catching my gaze, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Come here," he said, beckoning me over. "I want to show you something."

Curious, I made my way to his side, kneeling down on the soft, damp earth.

Merlin took my hand, guiding it to hover just above the surface of the stream. "Close your eyes," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Reach out with your magic. Feel the water, and the life that flows through it."

I did as he instructed, letting my awareness expand until I could sense the pulsing energy of the stream. It was like a living thing, vibrant and dynamic, filled with swirling currents and eddies. As I focused, I became aware of tiny motes of light drifting just beneath the surface, glowing softly in the gathering dusk.

"What are they?" I whispered, not wanting to disturb the delicate balance of the moment.

"Wisps. Tiny spirits of the water, drawn to the purity of the stream. They're a sign that the water is safe to drink."

He released my hand, and I watched in amazement as he cupped his palms, dipping them into the cool, clear water. As he lifted his hands, the wisps swirled around his fingers, their light casting a soft, silvery glow on his skin. He brought his cupped hands to his lips and drank deeply, then offered them to me.

I hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, pressing my lips to his palms. The water was crisp and refreshing, with a subtle sweetness that danced on my tongue. As I drank, I felt a tingling coolness fill my body, like I was being infused with the very essence of the stream.

"Magic isn't just for grand gestures," Merlin said, watching me with a thoughtful expression. "It's in the little things too, like purifying the water we drink, or easing the aches and pains of a long day's journey."

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. The tender gesture caught me off guard, sending a flutter through my chest. I searched Merlin's eyes, trying to reconcile this gentle, attentive version of him with the cold, distant man who had been avoiding me all day.

Just a few hours ago, he'd snapped at me when I asked him a question about my magic, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. "If you paid attention, you wouldn't need to ask," he'd growled, stalking ahead to walk with Lancelot.

I'd felt the sting of his words like a slap, my temper flaring in response. I'd spent the rest of the day stewing in my resentment, determined to ignore him just as thoroughly as he was ignoring me.

But now, kneeling beside the stream, with the wisps dancing around us and the soft glow of the sunset painting his face in shades of gold, I felt my anger melting away, replaced by a swelling confusion.

"Merlin…What happened to us?”

Where were the two best friends who would leap into fires for each other? Where were the mischievous thieves who swindled their way through bar tabs only to hide out until sunrise, laughing and telling stories on the roofs of Camelot?

Merlin's expression softened, a flicker of sadness passing through his eyes. He sighed, looking down at our joined hands. "Everything changed when you pulled that sword from the stone. You're not just a street urchin anymore. You’re not just Wart, and I'm not just your partner in crime anymore. I'm your advisor, your protector. I have to be the one to guide you, to make sure you're ready. Even if it means pushing you away sometimes."

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. "But why does it have to be like that? Why can't we still be friends the way we were before?"

Merlin's hand tightened around mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a feather-light caress. "Because my feelings for you have grown far beyond friendship. And I see the way your knights look at you. Even Lancelot. It’s only a matter of time until you fall for one of them. Or maybe all of them, who knows?"

Part of me wanted to deny it, to insist that nothing had changed between us. But deep down, I knew he was right. The bond we shared had always been intense, but now, with the weight of my destiny pressing down on me and the undeniable attraction simmering between me and my knights, it had become something else entirely.

"Merlin," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I don't want to lose you. You're my best friend, my rock. I need you by my side, now more than ever."

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "I'll always be by your side, Wart. But I can't be what you need me to be. Not anymore."

“But what if I want you to be? Back at the castle, when you kissed me, when we…” I paused, my face flaming with the memory of his tongue between my thighs, licking and sucking while I writhed in pleasure.

A thought occurred to me then. A dark thought. One that had jealousy spreading through my veins and my fingers shaking as I looked into Merlin’s eyes. “Tell me it’s not because of Mordred…”

If he still loved her, I didn’t know what I would do. I didn’t think my heart could handle the agony.

Merlin's eyes flew open wide, a look of shock and horror crossing his face. "Mordred? Gods, no! Arthur, you have to believe me. There was never anything between us beyond a physical attraction. And even that was fleeting. A momentary lapse in fucking judgment on my part."

He gripped my shoulders, his gaze boring into mine with an intensity that took my breath away. "Listen to me. Mordred is a master manipulator. She'll twist the truth and use my past mistakes against me, all to drive a wedge between us. That's what she does. She finds people's weaknesses and exploits them."

I searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but all I saw was raw, unfiltered honesty. The knot in my chest loosened, and I released a shaky breath. "I believe you." I reached up to cup his cheek. "I'm sorry, I just...the thought of you and her made me feel sick inside."

Merlin leaned into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who pushed you away, who made you doubt me. But I swear to you, Arthur, on everything, my heart has only ever belonged to you."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I surged forward, capturing his lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. Merlin's lips moved against mine with a fervor that stole my breath, one hand tangling in my hair while the other slid down to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him.

I pulled back reluctantly, wiping at my damp cheeks with the back of my hand. "We should head back," I said, my voice still a little shaky. "The others will be wondering where we are."

For a moment, Merlin just stared at me, as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. But ultimately, he stood, holding out a hand to help me up from the river bank.

My heart was in the soles of my feet as we made our way back to camp, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss that hovered around me like an ever thickening cloud.

As night fell, we gathered around the crackling fire. The air was filled with the earthy scent of wood smoke and the soft chirping of crickets in the underbrush. I sat cross-legged on the ground, Excalibur resting across my lap, the blade pulsing with a faint golden glow.

Tristan and Merlin knelt on either side of me, their expressions focused and intent as they began to teach me the intricacies of conjuring magical runes. Tristan's silvery hair gleamed in the firelight, his pale eyes reflecting the dancing flames as he spoke.

"Runes are more than just symbols," he explained. "They’re conduits for magic, each one imbued with its own unique power and meaning. To create a rune, you need to focus your will and channel your magic through Excalibur, using the blade as a medium to manifest the symbol. Eventually, you’ll be able to manifest runes without using the sword, but that’ll take more practice. For now, this will have to do."

He reached out, placing his hand over mine where it rested on Excalibur's hilt. I sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, feeling the heat of his touch seep into my skin. "Close your eyes," he murmured. "Breathe deeply and let your mind clear. Focus on the magic flowing through you, on the connection between you and the sword."

I did as he instructed, letting my eyes drift shut and my breath slow into a steady rhythm. Gradually, I became aware of a thrumming sensation in my chest, a pulsing energy that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within me. It was like a second heartbeat, syncing up with the faint vibrations emanating from Excalibur.

"Good," Tristan said softly. "Visualize the rune in your mind. See its shape, its curves and angles. Let it burn itself into your consciousness until you can trace its form without thought."

I furrowed my brow, concentrating on the image that Tristan had shown me earlier. A swirling, intricate knot of lines that seemed to dance and flow like currents of air. Slowly, painstakingly, I began to construct the rune in my mind's eye, each stroke deliberate and precise.

As the final line fell into place, I felt a sudden rush of energy surge through me, like a gust of wind whipping through my hair. My eyes flew open, and I gasped as I saw the rune glowing brightly on Excalibur's blade, etched in lines of shimmering gold.

"You did it," Merlin breathed, his eyes wide with amazement. "On your first try, no less. Fuck, Wart, I didn’t think you’d do better than my first lesson with Gaius."

Pride swelled in my chest, a giddy laugh bubbling up my throat. I’d done it. I’d actually conjured a magical rune, something that had seemed impossible hours ago.

Tristan smiled, squeezing my hand gently before releasing it. "Well done, Arthur. You're a natural. The rune of air is one of the more challenging ones to master."

I glanced between Tristan and Merlin, my heart still racing with exhilaration. "What does it do, exactly?" I asked, tracing my finger over the glowing lines on Excalibur's blade.

Merlin leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against mine as he examined the rune. "It's a manifestation of the element of air. With practice, you'll be able to use it to summon winds, create barriers, even levitate objects." He tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "I suspect it will also allow you to open the portal to Avalon when the time comes. The riddle mentioned the wind rune, so I think mastering it first is smart."

I grinned at both Tristan and Merlin, feeling like I could command the earth itself to do as I pleased. As I opened my mouth to respond, Galahad's voice cut through.

"You know, Arthur," he drawled, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, "we never did finish training you in swordplay."

I glanced over at the redheaded knight, one eyebrow arching up. He was lounging against a fallen log, his long legs stretched out before him, arms crossed behind his head. The firelight played across the angular planes of his face, casting his features in a warm, golden glow.

"Oh really?" I asked with a smirk. “And how much of this training might consist of you knocking me to the ground and laughing when I can’t get back up?”

"Hmmm." Galahad's smirk widened into a full-blown grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "As your loyal knight, it's my solemn duty to ensure you're prepared for anything. Magically and physically." His gaze raked over me slowly.

Beside me, Merlin stiffened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I could practically feel the tension radiating off him in waves. Tristan, on the other hand, merely looked amused, his pale eyes flicking between Galahad and me with knowing mirth.

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I've had enough physical exertion for one day. Magical training is surprisingly tiring."

Galahad let out an exaggerated sigh, pushing himself up from the log with fluid grace. "Pity. I was so looking forward to getting my hands on you again." He winked at me as he sauntered past me and stared out into the trees, as if searching for something.

I rolled my eyes at Galahad's shameless flirting, even as a traitorous part of me thrilled at the idea of his hands on me again, in a decidedly less combative context. I glanced over at Merlin, noting the tightness around his eyes and the rigid set of his shoulders.

"I think Arthur's right," Merlin said evenly, though I detected the undercurrent of tension in his voice. "Mastering the wind rune should be our top priority. Physical training can wait."

Galahad shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by Merlin's disapproval. "As you wish. But don't come crying to me when our little queen here gets knocked on her shapely arse because she can't swing a sword properly."

"I'll keep that in mind," I retorted dryly. "Now, if you're quite finished objectifying your future sovereign, perhaps we could get on with the actual training?"

Tristan chuckled under his breath as Galahad sketched a mocking bow in my direction. "But of course, Your Majesty. I live to serve."

Ignoring the flutter in my stomach at the heated look Galahad sent my way, I turned back to Merlin. "So, what exactly does mastering the wind rune entail? Do I need to meditate under a waterfall or something?"

The corner of Merlin's mouth twitched. "No waterfalls necessary, I'm afraid. Though if you're keen on getting wet, I'm sure Galahad would be more than happy to assist."

I shot Merlin a withering glare, even as Galahad's rich laughter echoed through the clearing. "Careful, Merlin," Galahad teased, "Keep talking like that, and I might start to think you're trying to picture me naked."

Rolling my eyes heavenward, I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. "All right, all right, enough. Can we please focus on the task at hand? I'd like to master this rune sometime before the next century."

Merlin cleared his throat, his expression sobering. "Right. The wind rune. It's all about harnessing the power of the air around you, bending it to your will. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Feel the currents against your skin, the whisper of the breeze in your hair."

I did as he instructed, letting my eyelids flutter shut, and drew in a slow, steady breath. The air around me seemed to come alive, caressing my skin like the touch of a lover. I could sense the ebb and flow of the wind, the subtle shifts in pressure and temperature.

"Good," Merlin murmured, his voice low and hypnotic. "Now, imagine those currents as an extension of yourself. Picture them swirling around you, responding to your every thought and desire."

I focused my mind, visualizing tendrils of air wrapping around my body like a second skin. The breeze picked up, whipping my hair around my face and tugging at my clothes.

"That's it," Merlin encouraged, a note of pride in his voice. "Now, direct that power outward. Shape it into a sphere, a shield to protect you from harm."

Furrowing my brow in concentration, I willed the wind to coalesce into a sphere around me. It was like trying to grasp smoke at first; the currents slipping through my mental fingers. But gradually, I felt the air solidify, forming a bubble of swirling energy that pulsed with my heartbeat.

"Impressive." Tristan whistled, circling me with an appraising eye. "I've never seen anyone master the wind rune so quickly."

I opened my eyes, grinning with exhilaration as the sphere of air continued to dance around me. "Take that , Uther."

Galahad stepped forward, his eyes glinting. "Think fast," he called out, hurling a pebble in my direction.

Instinctively, I thrust my hand forward, willing the wind to intercept the projectile. The pebble bounced harmlessly off my swirling shield, clattering to the ground at my feet.

"Nice reflexes," Galahad praised, his lips curving into an approving smile. "You're a natural at this, after all. I suppose your fae blood might be stronger than the human half."

I couldn't help but beam with pride, reveling in the rush of power that surged through my veins. It was intoxicating, this newfound control over the elements.

Merlin, however, fixed me with a stern look. "Don't get too cocky," he warned. "The wind rune is just the beginning.”

As the night wore on, the excitement of my magical breakthrough slowly gave way to exhaustion. My limbs felt heavy, my eyelids drooped as I struggled to keep up with Merlin and Tristan's ongoing instructions.

Finally, Gawain intervened, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I think that's enough for tonight," he said.

Merlin looked like he wanted to argue, but a stern glance from Gawain silenced him. With a sigh, he nodded, helping me to my feet. "Right. We'll continue your training in the morning."

Gratefully, I let Gawain guide me to my bedroll, tucked away in a sheltered corner of the clearing. The soft, woven fabric felt blessedly cool against my skin as I sank down onto it, my muscles aching with a pleasant sort of fatigue.