The Siege of Camelot
Merlin and Freya were happier than they ever had been in months. Ater Gwen had heard Merlin and Freya’s story, she decided to take the initiative and made Freya her personal servant, which both of them really enjoyed. The two were as close as Gwen and Morgana had been, except there was a certain level of understanding that existed between the two. Gwen remembered when she had been a maid as well, so she made sure to make Freya’s job as easy as possible. Freya deeply appreciated this.
Merlin and Arthur were also better. Although Merlin’s magic was not known by anyone else, Arthur had called him his “unofficial court sorcerer” and there were no lies between the two. Well, almost no lies: Arthur didn’t know that Freya was a Bastet, because Merlin felt that he would not want to keep Freya in the city any longer, though they had the curse under control. With Merlin nearby, Freya was easily subdued and had a mind much more like a human.
So it was not unusual for all four of them to be in the same room: Arthur and Gwen were talking, so naturally, so were Freya and Merlin. They were all discussing Camelot, and what they should do on the front of magic. The conversation was going well, and they were making progress when suddenly Sir Leon burst into the room.
“Sire,” he panted, “Morgana has once again began an attack on Camelot. She is headed for the citadel as we speak.”
All four of them widened their eyes and rose up, running out of the room.
Merlin gave Freya a small kiss on the cheek and said: “If it is midnight and I haven’t found you, head out of the city. Do not wander back, but if you do, take out as many of Morgana’s men as you can.” She gave him a weak smile.
“Let us hope that it won’t come to that.”
Arthur drew his sword and Merlin followed as he ran down the corridor. Gwen and Freya rushed to the infirmary, where the first injured began to flow inside. Arthur and Merlin soon burst out of the door and into the courtyard, where torches fell down and caught the ground on fire, and already many dead littered the ground.
Near the entrance to the lower town, the knights of Camelot were putting up a good fight. Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival were all yelling as their swords clashed against those o f their opponents: they seemed to be bandits, thieves, and a gruesome sort of type all around.
The Knights of Camelot, though much better equipped, skilled, and feared, were still vastly outnumbered. The bunch were soon forced into a circle in the middle of the courtyard again, and as the night progressed, they were packed more and more tightly together as waves upon waves of Morgana’s evil soldiers attacked. It was a long and bloody night.
Gwen and Freya were working together like equals in the infirmary: quick movements and sharp demands for supplies were used regardless of status. Every now and then, if necessary, Freya would perform a little magic. Gwen turned a blind eye, but every now and then she would call her over asking for some ‘special treatment’ for the patient. However, it was both physically and emotionally exhausting. It was hard to watch your friends get bound up from some sort of injury and then launch themselves back into the path of danger again, in a never-ending cycle. By the middle of the night, both girls were wilting.
By around 2:00 in the morning, the fighting suddenly stopped. As if some otherworldly voice had echoed across the city, all of Morgana’s men stopped fighting and retreated. This brought up some suspicions and wonderings about why Morgana herself hadn’t appeared, and why all of her soldiers had stopped fighting.
During the hour or so of cease fire, the knights and the brave commoners who had volunteered to fight were getting seed to by Gaius, Freya, Gwen, and some other servants and physicians from the city. As soon as they were deemed fit to leave, or as fit as they could be, they ran outside to keep watch for any suspicious movement.
Outside, all hell had broken loose. Women, children, and elderly people swelled in numbers outside of the castle, looking for a safe haven. The number grew and grew until Arthur could not bare leaving them out there any longer, and he started to let them in, slowly but surely. Though it was against his will to do so, as the people could be putting themselves in more danger from Morgana, Arthur was afraid there would be rioting and that the soldiers would come back and kill the innocent civilians.
Meanwhile, Sir Elyan was on the castle walls, keeping lookout. His crossbow was ready and he was squinting through the blackness of the night for anything troubling when he saw something blacker than what he thought death would be like, blacker than shadows and ravens and the night sky. It was a huge a huge cloud, billowing with darkness and every now and then a streak of dark purple. And in the middle of it was a evil, smirking, bitter but vengeful looking Morgana.
“Sound the warning bell! Alert the King! Morgana has come to attack!” At this word, the large crowd gathered outside of the castle surged and screamed and stamped and ran towards the door, making way and sparing no thought for the poor people getting trampled at the bottom of the hoard.
Hearing the word of Elyan, Merlin ran out of the castle and towards the crowd. He ripped open the doors and started shouting at the people to hurry, to bring their children, to get inside as fast as they could. The crowd of innocents never seemed to end as they fled into the citadel, Merlin ushering them and helping those who had been wounded.
The poor people at the back of the crowd, the orphans, the injured, and the elderly were finally able to come inside. At this time, some of the braver adults had come back to assist those who could not make their way in on their own, but it was taking a while. Soon, there were only about five people left, but Morgana and her cloud of dark smoke were coming ever closer. She smirked again, pleased at what chaos and terror she had caused.
Her voice, louder than humanly possible, echoed across the grounds of Camelot.
“Dear brother,” she mocked, smiling, “How wonderful it is to see you again. I am so glad to be welcomed by so many people. Are you planning a surprise party for me in there?” She said airily, pretending to be an innocent child once more. As she said so, she waved her hand, and the smoke started to pile up at her feet and bring her up towards the sky until she was towering over the castle.
“I do hope that there will be a feast,” she continued. “How much I used to love those, remember? And how I would smile and laugh, unaware that those people surrounding me cared little for my struggles and sorrows? Do you remember, brother? Because I do! And now how do you feel, knowing that I care little for your struggles and sorrows now either? In fact, how does it feel to know I am the cause of them?” Her expression became twisted with hate and bitterness, and she lifted up her hands more, the smoke bring her higher and higher into the air.
Below her, in the courtyard, Merlin was struggling with the last two children. They were both seven years old, at most, and Merlin was helping the one with the bad limp get into the castle first, for he could not get in on his own. The other child started to limp over to the doors as well, but soon the guards gave an apologetic look as if to say: 'We cannot hold the doors open for much longer.'
Merlin was getting angry, and he picked up the child to hurry her over to the doors. A small little bunny toy, a dirtied but well-loved stuffed animal was hanging from her grubby fingers, and at that small, childish sight Merlin spurred himself to move on. He got to the doors, but not before Morgana noticed him. She smiled again.
“Well, hello, Merlin.” She said loftily. Merlin could not bring herself to face her. He simply continued to run to the doors. He was about to reach them when she threw a spell at him, and it sped down at an amazing speed before he reached the doors. He was just able to hand over the little girl to the guards before they shut the doors, and he was left alone in the clearing with Morgana.