RE-POSTED 01/01/11 - fixed a few typos. Happy Birthday Colin Morgan!

Hello, fellow Merlin fans!

I am currently in the processing of writing out a (what I hope will be) long Merlin fic…. But this little plot bunny decided to hit. I had been looking up some dark!Merlin videos on youtube when one called 'United we fall' cropped up, ad it inspired me to write this. (seriously- it was so amazing that I watched it nearly ten times, and it brought me to tears each time… its flawlessly beautiful and well worth catching!) It's a one off fic based about six months after Morgana's disappearance at the end of series 2, where basically all of the events in Camelot and emotional upheavals a certain young man has endured becomes too much. Warning though: character death.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Merlin, else I would be happy… very happy.

The King's Saviour

The young man stumbled through the heavy oak doors, standing still when the silk sheet laden figure in the grand bed before him turned in his sleep. The young man's nostrils flared in disgust. When the sleeping persons breathing returned back to its deep pattern, the man quietly closed the door behind him and sauntered towards the bed.

He wasn't one for drinking, but recent events had taken his toll. He paused in his walking for a second as images from the day's events flashed through his sluggish mind: he swore he could still smell the sweet aroma of rotting flesh that mingled with echoing screams of pain. He was sick of it. Sick of the accusations, the mindless so-called cleansing, the death and the hatred. It was time it was put to a stop.

As he all but stumbled across the empty space, the young man caught sight of the left over food, barely touched, and his stomach constricted in anger. The amount of food left, wasted even, was more than some families in the lower city had to eat in a day. The very thought made him livid and only fuelled his hatred for the sleeping King before him.

Walking around the long table, the young man's slightly sluggish mind processed all of the intricate detailing on the table cloth, and the polished unused silverware lying patiently next to the seemingly untouched food. The only piece that seemed to have been used was, almost ironically, the knife, which lay innocently over the plate, apple residue dried on its blade.

Smiling, the young man stroked the knife blade with his thumb before returning his attention to the King, who continued sleeping blissfully unaware of what was to come.

He resumed his walking towards the large bed before stopping at its foot and wrapping his right hand around the wooden pole where the hangings had been neatly tied. The young man brushed the palm of his calloused hand over the patterned wood that had been made smooth from the years of people running their hands over it.

As his hand trailed the wood down to the bed sheets, he moved his hand to the silk, feeling its softness beneath his fingers. He walked forwards again, towards the Kings head. Whilst he did so, he allowed his hand to glide over the silk, careful not to touch the King whom deserved these least of all. When his hand reached the end of the sheet resting on the Kings chest, he stilled. The King did not deserve such luxuries.

A shiver of drunken excitement ran through the young man as he realised the time had finally come. Ignoring the thudding of his heart that pumped adrenaline around his body, the young man bent at the hip to have his face hover over that of the King. He wondered how long it would take for the sleeping King to wake.

As he waited, he turned his gaze to the older man's face. This was the face of a hated King, whose paranoia of the very magic which he once sought out carved him into the fearful slaughterer he was now.

But not for much longer.

The young man screwed his eyes up in hate at these thoughts, as he allowed them to trace over the scar on the King's forehead. He observed how it was now nothing more than a thin pink line that was perhaps even considered an honour of sorts. A small price he had paid in his ongoing purge.

Uther's eyelids fluttered, pulling the young man out of his inspection. The young man watched as Uther frowned his way into consciousness, seeming to sense the man's face before his. He let out a startled gasp, which was quickly silenced by a hand.

"Ssh ssh ssh, we don't want any drama now," the young man whispered calmly, despite feeling the opposite. Uther tried to turn his face away from the stench of alcohol coming from the young man's breath, who watched as Uther's eyes came into focus, shock very much apparent in them.

Uther's breathing eventually slowed down, but he was unable to move, for the young man's hand kept him in place. His brown eyes quickly glanced at the door and then back to the hooded young man whose face was concealed in shadow. It made the young man laugh a laugh that made the older man cringe.

"Are you after your guards?" he asked rhetorically. "They have been disposed of, your majesty." The younger man smiled to himself, enjoying the flash of fear that once again crossed Uther's eyes.

Camelot's guards had always been easy to distract: they were too slow. All it had ever taken was a few mumbled words or a flick of his hand for them to get knocked out or distracted. This time was no different.

"But do not worry your royal self. They aren't dead," he sneered, "they are better off then you will be."

Uther's eyes widened even further as he tried to speak, but the surprisingly strong hand that remained clamped over his mouth muffled his words.

"I'm sorry, do you have something to say?" The young man paused for a brief second before raising his eyebrows. "No? Well guess what," he sneered, looming closer to the point that Uther could see two bright eyes, their pupils dark in contrast. "You have never listened to anyone's pleas, regardless of whether they were innocent or not. So this time, it is going to be no different."

The young man straightened his back and looked down his nose at the clearly terrified Uther, who flinched when the hooded young man raised his voice.

"You have ruthlessly persecuted people for years whilst turning a blind eye to their innocence! And even those who have magic do not deserve to DIE! It is nothing but injustice from the person who has sworn to protect his people."

The young man breathed in shakily, in a bid to control himself before squeezing his hand, causing the skin around his fingertips to go white.

"My kin have done nothing to harm you – NOTHING! The ones that do oppose you only do so because you, Uther Pendragon, have brought it down on yourself. You have murdered women, men, children, friends and magical creatures, just to sate your need for revenge. Whatever would your dear wife say?"

Uther let out a small whimper, as his eyes clouded over with what the young man could only wish was regret. But it was too late for such thoughts.

"Now, before this conversation comes to a close, I think I should let you in on a few details. Ones that have been kept under your very nose but you were too blind to see."

A confused frown marred Uther's face that caused the young man to emit a laugh. He tried to once again shrink away from the strong alcohol he could still smell that his nose was accustomed too.

"Lets start with a story about your dear ward, the Lady Morgana." Uther's breathing hitched. "How long has it been now? Six months?" The young man let out a low whistle. "Time flies. Six whole months since she disappeared with Morgause… no doubt biding her time and learning to use her magic."

Uther exclaimed and raised his arms, but the younger man instead placed his remaining hand around Uther's neck. He could feel the pulse quicken with fear.

"Don't interrupt me again," he said conversationally. Uther stilled. "It's probably your fault that she decided to follow that path. She, like so many others, feared your reaction. So, with a little nudge from her half-sister, she decided to do what so many others have attempted. And that is to bring you down."

The young man leant closer; feeling extreme satisfaction that he could see tears well up in the King's eyes.

"Luckily for you, some idiot kept preventing it from happening." He squeezed the hand wrapped around Uther's neck a little, causing his face to turn slightly red. "But," the younger man said in a high-spirited tone that Uther was certain he recognised, "unfortunately for that idiot, the only way to stop her was to kill her. So she was poisoned. But of course," he added in a tone that a grandfather might adopt when storytelling, "he didn't want too, but it was the only way." The young man shook his had and gave a dramatic sigh. "So that's why she isn't here."

The young man twisted so his was seated on the end of the bed, but positioned so that his hands remained in their position. He ignored the aching in his arms.

"What else? Ah, yes. There's a warlock in your castle, one who has been here for nearly three years now. Funnily enough," he said with a chuckle, "it's the idiot who decided to keep letting you live. Though he has seen the error of his ways now…" he trailed off as he turned his gaze to the bright moon shining beyond the window.

"Only a few people know of him. Gaius knows of course, and he has helped nurture the boy's powers under your very nose all this time. Teacher and father figure to a warlock, whilst all the while remaining your physician. He's a clever man," he added with a nod at Uther.

"But did you know, with the help of Gaius and the warlock, your son is going to become the greatest Kings ever known." The young man laughed internally at the look of pride that flashed over Uther's defiant face. Despite being red at the moment, his face paled at what the young man had to say next. "He will unite all of Albion, wed a servant girl of whom he loves even now, and lift your laws on the banishment of magic."

Uther tried to exclaim again, but choked into the young man's hand as the grip around his neck was tightened. The young man watched with almost fascination at the vein in the King's forehead that began to pulsate.

"Everything that you, his murdering, tyrant of a king who calls himself his father has ever fought against! You have only brought it upon yourself, you know. Your inability to tell Arthur the truth or show any justification with what you do has pushed away your son and ward. Arthur will become a better man than you could ever even hope to be, and you will be but a shadow upon the name of Pendragon; remembered only as the ruthless King who let his own revenge better him."

A tear slipped from Uther's eye onto the young mans hand, which slowly began to squeeze.

The young man felt his eyes well up from numerous things; overwhelming happiness, apprehension, satisfaction and anger as he felt his fingernails dig into his Kings skin. Very few would have ever had such close contact with the man they called King.

"As my right, as your saviour, it is only fair that I am the one to bring you down. Morgana won't do it, no one else will do it. I will."

As Uther's face became redder by the second, he raised a shaking hand to pull back the young mans hood, revealing glistening tear tracks that shone in the moonlight over porcelain skin. As he took in the sharp cheekbones, reddened blue eyes and dark hair, Uther felt his heart jolt in fear as realisation dawned on him.

Merlin let out a choke as more tears escaped from his eyes, dripping onto the dying King's sheets.

"You have all but killed my kin, my friends, and my one love, whilst continuously threatening all those I hold dear, and it ends now," the young warlock spluttered angrily.

He tightened his grip further more to the point where he could feel the Kings pulse beat unbelievably fast above the bones that he felt had started to crunch.

"You will not die by magic, Uther, that is my gift to you," Merlin whispered over the muffled gasps.

Merlin's eyes never left Uther's, as the King's legs began to kick out. He felt Uther's fingers try and scrape away his steady hands in attempts that became weaker by the second: a pointless and desperate bid for survival.

After what began to seem like an eternity, Uther's chest began to jerk spasmodically as he frantically tried to draw in air his body craved. The fingers that tried to scrape away Merlin's became weaker in their actions whilst his eyes all but pleaded for enough.

"Ssh… that's enough now," Merlin whispered, a look of determination on his face. "It will be over soon…" his voice cracked.

As Merlin watched, the life of Uther departed from his eyes that had gone red from where the blood vessels had burst under pressure. The brown eyes of the King dulled as his body suddenly stilled, arms dropping to the sides of his unmoving chest.

Merlin stilled and held his breath, leaning in to look further into the unseeing eyes that barely a few seconds ago held life.

He let out a strangled cry as hundreds of emotions swelled within him, becoming all too much.

He slid off of the bed and let his hands drop, his eyes catching the sight of the red marks that his hands revealed on the now pale neck.

Merlin remained seated next to his dead King, just as still and silent for what felt like hours. He had done it. He had killed Uther Pendragon, the man who had so many enemies. He raised a shaking hand to cover his eyes as more tears leaked out, and realised with a gasp something was a sobering thought and life changing for all.

Arthur was now King.

The young warlock grinned a manic grin. He had done it. His lifelong destiny was complete. All it had taken were several of pints of ale to realise how to do it and damn the consequences.

With a shaky sigh, Merlin wiped the tears away, ready to feign indifference should anyone stop him.

Tomorrow was the beginning of the future.


Whew… okay, so a little bit dark lol. I'm not sure though if I should put this up a rating…?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little one off, but please, let me know what you think! Your reviews encourage me to write more and help with my writing…. They also make me very happy and really do make my day! I need more of that happiness…!

Thanks for reading… please kindly review ;-)

Lady Elrayen xx