Lightning Doesn't Strike Twice

 

Merlin blinked slowly, staring blankly at Arthur’s still body. The other knights were as still as her King and she didn’t have the ability to look away from any of them, but especially Arthur. Gwen’s body lay broken on the other side of the room. Even Morgana, who had been their enemy until she sacrificed her life right near the end in a futile attempt to save them, was lying on the ground near them, still and cold.

 

She choked back a cry and decided that she couldn’t break down here, with their bodies in front of her like sacrificial lambs in this ritual room. She backed away slowly, before running away full speed.

 

Once she’d taken comfort in another room, bare and barren thank goodness, she leaned against a wall and slid down on it, crumbling into a crying mess on the floor. Her mind raced over the last hour, trying to remember every detail of what had happened.

 

Ealdor…they’d been told it had been wiped out and so they rode out to see for themselves. They found it to be true, much to her horror, and then they’d followed the tracks that lead to this abandoned ruin of a castle.

 

Mordred and Morgana had been waiting for them.

 

They’d all fought hard, but it was starting to become visible that something was very, very wrong. Mordred looked more than unstable and began muttering under his breath to himself. Then, without warning, more power began to seep out of him and she was straining to keep him from completely lashing out, especially since she also had to protect the others from the magic being thrown at them.

 

And then Mordred started to lose control and it was obvious his sanity had slipped.

 

She hadn’t known why, but for some reason Morgana had jumped right in front of the fatal attack that Mordred had unleashed against them all. She had never been able to figure out what Morgana was thinking, and this time was no different…

 

Merlin had taken that time to send an attack towards Mordred, and it had wounded him severely, but he sent one last wave of power that caught her off guard and thrown her against a stone wall harshly. When she regained her bearings, Mordred was a moment from death and everyone already was.

 

Now she was all alone and unsure what to do. She was torn between grieving and wanting to find a way to join the rest of them, or actually being active and trying to find a way to fix things with magic like always.

 

But nothing could fix this. Not even magic, because she would need a lot of deaths to restore that balance of an equation…

 

Something…something…there had to be something she had to do! Anything. She couldn’t sit there and twiddle her thumbs, wasting time by, when in the other room were her loved ones, lying stone cold dead on the castle floor.

 

Maybe if she’d been stronger, had been able to start learning at an earlier time so that she knew more than she currently did. And that could’ve happened if there had never been The Great Purge…and that had started…because of Uther’s grief and anger over Igraine’s death and Nimueh’s trickery.

 

Her life, everyone’s life would’ve been so much happier. She would have been free to use magic, Morgana wouldn’t have had to fear about her prophetic powers that became more as she lived under Uther’s roof, Gaius could’ve stayed with Alice, Uther would not be so grief-stricken and end up causing genocide –and all while keeping Igraine, and Arthur would have a mother growing up…

 

It was perfect. This was perfect.

 

All she had to do was go back in time, stop Igraine from dying, and things will be alright. Better than alright! She would just have to find a handful of sand, use the Cup of Life and pour water from it onto the sand, and a strand of Arthur’s hair as a focus…And keep a clear and focused mind, of course.

 

She forced herself to go back into the room where everyone were, unhappily going over to Arthur’s body. Tears blinded her eyes as she slowly and reluctantly bent down, and reached out with trembling hands to pluck a strand of blond hair from her King’s head. She ran away straight after.

 

Over the course of the next two days, she began setting up the ritual. When she was done, she immediately decided to go through with it, kneeling in front of the mound of sand within the circle surrounding her. She delicately placed Arthur’s hair on top of the sand mound and reached for the Cup of Life. She slowly and carefully started spilling water from it onto the sand, directly onto the hair, and chanted quietly while doing so. Then she closed her eyes, clearing her mind of everything but what she was doing, until she’d cleared that too and started to focus on one singular thought.

 

‘Take me to Arthur’s birth, take me to Arthur’s birth, take me to Arthur’s birth –’

 

She repeated it over and over in her head, single-mindedly keeping it at the forefront of her mind. The sand had been to represent the Sands of Time, Arthur’s hair as to where to who and where in time, and water from the Cup of Life to give life to her ritual and jumpstart her travel through time. When she started feeling the magic starting to build up and the water had all gone from the cup, she placed both her hands gently onto the wet sand, directly onto Arthur’s hand, and at the point of contact her hands started to glow a golden color. Then it spread until her entire self glowed, and then suddenly the light swirled around and then burst outwards and became blinding as it encompassed the entire room.

 

When Merlin next awoke, she was in front of Camelot’s castle, the night raining harshly upon the city. The roar of the Questing Beast sounded in the distance and she heard the distressed cries of a newly born baby, followed by the howls of a grieving widowed husband and new father.

 

Without another second to lose, she ran through the entrance of the castle, dodging passed the startled guards that called after her and followed her. She didn’t stop until she followed the cries of both man and child, flying passed everything until she was by Igraine’s side. She ignored the sight of Gaius, her old friend and uncle, and of the momentarily startled King who quickly began to draw on his anger.

 

“Who are you?!”

 

She paid him no attention, focusing on the woman who’d just given birth and had presently died moments before her entrance. She prepared her magic and took a deep breath, her eyes turning gold.

 

“Magic! How dare you? No more magic!” she barely heard Uther scream at her.

 

And then she placed lightly glowing hands onto Igraine’s chest and concentrated.

 

The Old Religion dictates for a life, there must be death. Igraine had died, but who is to say that Merlin couldn’t give her a second chance at life and make it a rebirth? It was the first time she’d looked at that loophole and attempted to basically cheat the Old Religion.

 

The impact caught her off guard and she flew to the ground with the King heavily pinning her down to the floor with his weight, though it wasn’t too hard with her dazed from the hit her head had taken from the stone.

 

“S-Sire! Igraine…” Gaius’ words thankfully saved her from any other harm Uther could have done to her, as he became distracted with seeing what his old friend was talking about.

 

It still would’ve been nice if he got off her too. He was rather heavy and her head was still pounding…

 

“Igraine?” she heard him, still on top of her, say in disbelief.

 

“Uther…?” a weak but kind voice questioned tiredly.

 

“Job well done, Merlin. Another day saved,” she congratulated herself dazedly, not really all there or thinking about the others.

 

And then she passed out, pretty sure she had a concussion.

 

When her eyes opened, she was kind of surprised to be on a luxurious bed in an extravagant room, blinking slowly at the bright light pouring in from the windows. She could feel her head had been bandaged up and that she was a little confused to find that she was in different clothing than the ones she’d worn appearing in that time.

 

“Hello.”

 

Her head snapped towards the source, which she regretted immediately when the movement caused her to gain a headache. She winced and held her hands to her head, lightly applying pressure.

 

Gaius’ amused chuckle was slowly coming closer and she felt him tip her head slightly back as he poured something into her mouth. Her headache lessened and she opened her eyes to watch him warily.

 

“That was some feat you’d managed to pull back there. You’d saved the Queen’s life, you know. It was very fortunate that you did and that you had managed to make it there in time at all,” he continued.

 

“Very, very lucky,” she muttered. “Cutting it a little bit too close for my liking though,” she grumbled.

 

“That you’d made it all the same makes us grateful enough,” Gaius retorted with a small smile. “But somehow you’d managed to give life to someone whose life was owed to the Old Religion. There had been…a deal the King and Queen had made, not knowing the exact consequences. Igraine’s life was the price. And yet, you had managed to save her.”

 

Merlin blinked tiredly. “The Old Religion said for a life, a life must be taken to keep balance. It claimed the Queen’s life. There isn’t anything to say I can’t restart her heart and let her live again. Think of it as…a rebirth.”

 

Gaius stared at her. “You have cheated the Old Religion. It will not forget this, you understand? It will make your life difficult.”

 

“I know,” she sighed. “But I’ve already had a difficult life. And I have not done anything that was expressly against the rules –it cannot fault me that.”

 

“Still…who are you to be so adamantly in saving the Queen, to care so much to do such a thing?” Gaius asked curiously. “How did you even know?”

 

Merlin fidgeted in bed, panicking slightly. She hadn’t even thought of what would happen after she’d saved Igraine. Maybe she thought she would live happily ever after, go back to her own time, or die in the process so she wouldn’t somehow end up existing at the same time as little her did…

 

“Um…”

 

He gave his signature eyebrow look at her, the one she was so used to and missed so much. She crumbled.

 

“Okay, okay,” she gave in. “I’m from the future. I’m your niece from Hunith? And well, technically I’m not born yet, since Balinor doesn’t flee from Camelot until at least a couple years from now, hides in Ealdor, meets Mother, runs away again and my mother has me in the meanwhile. I’m rambling so I’ll just say that I came back to the past to save Igraine and make things better for everyone in the long run.”

 

“Better how?” Gaius deadpanned, still processing the rest of what she said at the same time.

 

Merlin shrugged. “I wouldn’t have to hide my magic for one. Arthur grows up with both his mum and dad. You can stay with Alice,” here, his eyebrows flew up. “Uther gets to keep Igraine, can open up more to his son, and will basically not be grief-stricken…and end up blinded by his grief and rage that he ends up blaming magic and causing The Great Purge and executing all sorcerers and sorceresses and I wouldn’t fear for my life –” She burst out the last part, speaking rather fast.

 

“Great…Purge…” Gaius blinked at her. Then he gingerly sat down, trying to wrap his head around what he’d learned.

 

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you saved Igraine and saved me from myself,” a familiar voice spoke out quietly.

 

Both Gaius and she’s heads jerked up and spotted the King sitting silently at the back of the room, having listened to them since the beginning and keeping quiet until then.

 

Gaius cleared his throat nervously. “Ah yes. I advise you to rest for the rest of the day, no strenuous movement. Tomorrow, we can see about that. For now, complete bed rest. Try not to sleep too much, it’s bad for a concussion. Sire, my…future niece.”

 

He bowed and left the room, leaving her alone with the King. She felt as nervous with him as she had in her time, and didn’t know what to say to him.

 

“You need not be nervous. I am…not your King,” he awkwardly said that last part. “You may stay here for as long as you want, and recover with the help of the court physician and in the comfort of the castle. You have mine and Igraine’s thanks…and it would please us immensely if you did choose to stay indefinitely.”

 

She almost gaped, but remembered this was Uther…never mind a younger and different Uther she’d known. She schooled her expression and nodded gratefully at the King.

 

“I must take my leave now, however you may call on any of the servants around if you need anything. I will see you later then,” he cleared his throat in more awkwardness and then stood up to leave.

 

“Um, Sire,” she hesitantly called out. He paused and looked at her, waiting. “What…what happened to N-Nimueh?” She’d forgotten about the other sorceress’ role in this whole thing, and now that she remembered she was worried about the High Priestess.

 

Uther’s jaw visibly clenched tightly. “After Igraine’s…death, I banished her mere moments after in grief. She disappeared without another word. However, I received a message that she is requesting an audience, which I have granted.”

 

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Sire, I request that I’m at this meeting.”

 

“You are not well –”

 

“Please, Sire,” she tried to make her voice as urgent as she could, looking at him pleadingly.

 

He looked torn, but finally nodded in acquiescence. “Very well. Do not strain yourself, and retire at the first sign that you feel unwell.”

 

She agreed and refrained from healing her physical injuries instinctively, trying to keep as much magic in her as she could, just in case she had to confront Nimueh or something.

 

When it was time, Uther had sent over a servant to escort her down to the throne room, where Uther sat on his throne and Igraine was surprisingly already better and sitting next to him on hers. A small smile briefly flitted across her lips, before she made her face neutral at her first sighting of Nimueh, standing stoic and silent in front of the monarchs. Merlin could see the quick hint of surprise at the sight of Igraine in the woman’s eyes, but then she looked blank once more. Merlin took a place in the back, behind the thrones but with a good view of the woman, and leaned against a pillar to mask the pain and exhaustion she was still in.

 

“It is… a surprise to see you here, Igraine. A good surprise,” Nimueh gave a strained smile, once more glancing at the new mother.

 

“Yes. A surprise,” Uther bit out, glaring at her.

 

Nimueh’s smile turned cold and she spoke loftily. “I did warn there would be grave consequences.”

 

“You never told us the rule! You never told us the whole truth!” Igraine burst out with her voice shaky and a hint of pain from the betrayal, surprising everyone by speaking at all.

 

Nimueh sighed patronizingly. “It is not my duty to speak the words of the Old Religion to non-believers.”

 

“You would have, if you’d truly been our friend,” Uther spat out angrily.

 

“I am a High Priestess of the Order before any friendship…and she should not be alive,” Nimueh scowled, glancing at Igraine.

 

“She is. And that won’t change,” Uther said stiffly, his hand gripping the arm of his throne tightly.

 

“Yes, about that. I wonder how that is possible, and what might have happened to make it so…or who…”

 

Both King and Queen stiffened now, but did not reply. Merlin swallowed heavily, glancing around the quiet room and catching sight of Gaius, who was watching Nimueh like a hawk. He was beside someone she vaguely recognized looked a younger Alice.

 

“No matter. I will find out,” Nimueh said dismissively. “But I am sorry it has come to this and that the death was not of my choosing.”

 

“Liar,” Merlin blurted out. All eyes turned to her and she inwardly winced. “The Old Religion says a life for a life. High Priestesses and High Priests of the Order are masters of life and death. The Old Religion does not care who, but it is the one performing the ritual who has the ability to make the choice. If you master life and death, the Old Religion grants you that power to choose, as part of the ability of mastering life and death.”

 

Nimueh’s eyes zeroed in on her and she shivered, feeling like she should’ve just kept her mouth shut.

 

“You are…very informed of the ways of the Order,” Nimueh murmured, staring at her unnervingly.

 

Oh, horse dung. Merlin winced.

 

“She is Gaius’ 8th cousin removed, from Caerleon, come to visit,” Uther cut in. “He has taught her much…and it would not be wise to harm to harm Camelot’s Court Sorcerer’ relative, no matter how distant the relation it is.”

 

Nimueh glanced at him, but didn’t comment further.

 

“There should’ve been a death. There must be a death,” was all she said.

 

And then she pointed at Igraine and muttered an incantation.

 

With further ado, amidst terrified and worried yells, Merlin ignored the rest and gathered all the magic she’d kept, using it to propel her over the throne rapidly and in front of the Queen, flinging out her hands and repelling the spell back at Nimueh, who disappeared before it could make contact. Due to magical exhaustion, her previous injuries, and the fact that was one hell of a spell Nimueh sent their way, Merlin immediately fainted and collapsed.

 

Why was it this thing always happened and she was always protecting Pendragons, no matter which one?