Merlin
Merlin was concerned, to say the least. To begin with, Arthur had broken out of isolation, taken over the kingdom, and was now unstably ruling Camelot. Merlin was scared. Arthur had jailed what seemed to be a quarter of the population while Emrys had been gone, for simply offending the king.
Emrys hadn’t been completely serious when he said Arthur was acting like Uther, sure there had been some similarities, but it had mostly been to be a wakeup call. To stop it before it got to…this.
Merlin hadn’t been to Camelot on the eve of the Purge, but he had heard the whispers. The elders who remembered what it had been like. Was Camelot’s history doomed to repeat itself until the kingdom was destroyed? Had all of Emrys’ work been for nothing? Was there a point in getting the magic ban repealed if Camelot would be destroyed by it’s own king?
He began to wonder if this was always how it had been. Merlin wondered if he had been such a lovestruck fool that he had ignored the signs. Was Arthur even under a spell, or had the Pendragon insanity finally wormed it’s way into Arthur’s brain.
Emrys cried quietly to Lancelot the night they had returned. He knew Arthur would be mad, but he had no clue it would be like this. Arthur did not even seem to recognize Lancelot. He had pulled Merlin aside later, accusing him of picking up a slut.
Merlin saw a glimpse of the Arthur he knew when he pleaded with Arthur to recognize their old friend. The diplomatic mission Lancelot had been sent on was a failure. How could Emrys fulfill his destiny if the only foreseeable path had gone completely fucking insane.
Merlin was still advisor to the king, but it seemed more of a pedestal for Arthur to show off it’s pretty little pet to the other kings. Arthur ignored the warnings and advice of the god, ruling with his ego and his anger rather than logic and his heart.
It hurt. But Emrys would not abandon Camelot. He could not.
Together, Merlin, Lancelot, Gwaine, Morgana, Gwen, and Leon created a plan. Some method to slap sense into Arthur. To stop him. No one doubted Emrys when he said Arthur was under a spell now, except himself. The self doubt was seeping into his brain, his blood, his spells. What if his love truly was just this crazy?
What if Merlin had made up the king Arthur he could’ve sworn he had known and loved, and the beautiful, bold, strong ideation had replaced a monster? What if Emrys, in his naivety, had supported a monster.
Emrys understood what he had to do. It hurt, every time he thought about it. But no one else could know. No Gwen or Morgana, for they would think there was something else they could do. Not Leon, for his loyalty to his kingdom would render him useless. Even Lancelot and Gwaine, two people who would never doubt Merlin, could not know. Because they would try to stop him. Not for the sake of Arthur or Camelot, but for the sake of Merlin.
It hurt to know that his friends believed Emrys deserved happiness.
It hurt more knowing it was never a possibility in the first place.
Merlin kept replaying his conversation with Will, Arawn, and Morrigan. Death was inevitable. Merlin could fight it and push it away, but only for so long. And never for long enough.
And yet, for Emrys, it was the opposite. He could never settle down and live a peaceful life. He would have to watch every single one of his friends age and wither away, until not a single person knew him as Merlin Hunithson.
There would be a day where no one even knew him as Emrys. And he would still be there, holding up the bridge between life and death. Divine and mortal. Magic and…everything else.
Merlin was slow to realize that bridge was dilapidated and impossible to cross without him below it to support its weight. But he knew now.
And Merlin knew that the only way for Arthur to become the King he was destined to be, was for Emrys to leave.
Emrys was supposed to be raised as king of the druids, not as Merlin Hunithson. He was supposed to meet the Great Arthur Pendragon as a fully fledged god, not a puny twerp that couldn’t hold his tongue.
And the only way to set destiny on the correct path again was for King Arthur to not have met Emrys. Or at least to not remember Merlin.
And neither could Camelot.
It hurt horribly. It was like a piece of Emrys’ old identity was destroyed with every memory he erased. Memory spells could be finicky, but this was the only option. It would be easy to erase citizens memories, and to erase the memories of people who didn’t know him well. But it was absolute torture to erase his friend’s, his family’s.
Merlin had to restrain Lancelot, the poor soul. Lancelot was sad, of course, and would stay with Merlin, even after all their friends forgot him. Lancelot had been on board with the idea until Merlin explained that meant they would all forget Lance as well, or they would want to know how he and Emrys had met. Lancelot had pleaded and begged, he screamed knowing that his Guinevere would forget him. Emrys almost felt bad. Almost.
He started with Gwen, just to get it over with. She seemed so concerned about Emrys, coming to her with red-rimmed eyes from crying.
“Merls! I wasn’t expecting you, is something wrong?” She had asked, an almost maternal voice taking over her tone. It only served to make this hurt more. How could Emrys live knowing he had met an angel, and then made her forget him?
“I love you Gwen, know that. Please.” He had pleaded as he cast the spell. A flash of gold, and Guinevere had slumped over in her chair, and Emrys knew that when she woke up, Merlin would not be there.
Morgana was next. He should’ve started with her, really. She had magic, and was therefore a threat to his plan. He led her to her room, and she trusted him, silly girl, until she saw Gwen slumped over in a chair.
Morgana had fought and yelled, but even a powerful sorceress like herself could not break the bindings of a god of the Old Religion.
“I’m sorry.” Emrys whispered to the unconscious girl. He wished he could take her with him to the druids, but she deserved to be here with her family, and she deserved to be with the man she loved. Morgana would die before admitting it, but Merlin would die before letting her leave Leon. So they were even.
Then Emrys found Leon. He seemed to have understood what was happening. He did not fight it. Merlin appreciated it. Leon even found it in himself to give kind words to his assailant.
“I wish I could say I’ll remember you forever Merlin. Know that I believe in you. I’m sorry.” Leon had said before Emrys cast the spell. Leon was a wise man, and had a natural intuition that seemed almost magical. Of course Leon had figured him out. And give it to that bleeding heart of a knight to apologize to Merlin of all people.
Of course after Leon was the Knights of the Round Table. Elyan had been sad and quiet as he was restrained. Percival had been confused as Emrys cast the spell, and Merlin felt guilt as he saw the betrayal in the man’s eyes. Gwaine had been horrible. Gwaine had been bitter and angry, something that Merlin had never felt directed at him before.
And then he was done.
All except for one, of course. The one. The reason for all of Merlin’s sorrow. For all of Emrys’ struggles. Emrys mentally checked in with Kilgarrah, making sure the dragon was ready to fly him out of the Citadel and back to the druids the moment the spells were completed. They would only sleep for three hours. And he had but an hour until Gwen woke up.
Emrys barged into Arthur’s rooms, where the king sat hunched over his desk.
“Arthur.” Emrys barked, causing the king to whip around. A smile began to spread on his face, but Emrys wasn’t taking chances. Within seconds Arthur was bound to his chair, and the smile was fading.
Come on Merlin. Just cast the spell and leave. Don’t let him talk. Don’t talk to him. Don’t look him in the eyes.
The mantra was repeated over and over, but Merlin could not bring himself to cast the spell.
“Merlin! Come on, release me. Surely you’re not going to accuse me of being under a spell again.” Arthur said, almost jokingly. Merlin choked back a sob. He had to do this. He had to. “Merlin. I said to release me.” Arthur repeated, much more sternly, when Emrys made no move to do so.
Emrys clenched his fists. Did this clot pole really think that he could tell Emrys what to do? This wasn’t even the same as when Morrigan and the other gods would do it! Emrys was above Arthur. He wanted the respect he deserved. Emrys was not a pet. And neither was Merlin.
“You’ve always treated me like some toy. Something to entertain you when you’re bored and to throw around when you’re angry.” Merlin muttered quietly.
“Come on, Merlin. Let me go, and we’ll talk out whatever tantrum you’re having now.” Arthur snarked, rolling his eyes.
“Stop calling me that!” Emrys snarled, “I am Emrys, King of the Druids, God of Magic, and Bridge between life and death. Between mortal and divine. Stop treating me like I am beneath you. Uther Pendragon would be proud of his son.” Emrys hissed, taking a strange joy in Arthur’s flinch.
“Stop comparing me to that monster!” Arthur screamed, attempting to break the magical restraints.
“Don’t you see Arthur? You are that monster. Have you not seen your descent to madness? You called your resurrected friend a slut and a whore, accusing me of leaving you behind for a quick fuck. You’re ignoring the needs of your kingdom, and for what?” Emrys spat, using magic to pull Arthur closer to him. Instead of any form of guilt, Arthur’s expression hardened.
“So that’s what this is.” Arthur hissed. “You are leaving me for that whore!”
Emrys was left reeling. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he was here to do. “No, Arthur. I’m leaving you to save you.”
“I’m not under a god damned spell Merlin! Why do you believe I don’t love you? You laugh in my face at the thought, return to Camelot with your bedwarmer, what is so wrong with my love? Wha—“ the rest of Arthur’s maniacal rant was muffled by a magical gag.
“I’ll miss you, old friend.” Merlin murmured, and he did stop the spell Arthur was under. Arthur no longer loved Merlin.