On the third day of Ficmas...
... archaeologist_d gave to me: the prompt 'Gaius dies by Arthur's hand'. (And yes, it's late, my apologies! Work's been hectic and hasn't left me in the best frame of mind to write. :( )
Merlin sits among the wreckage of his home and wonders how it has come to this. The chamber has been completely wrecked. The vials of medicine, so carefully arranged and documented, have been shattered on the stone floor. The small library that has been collected over the years also lies on the floor, its pages ripped from their bindings. The room is cold and dark without a fire burning in its place.
It had happened while Merlin had been gathering herbs, which, he supposes, must have been deliberate. Better he not be here to interfere, he thinks bitterly. In fact, he’d come back just after the deed had been done. He’d pushed his way through the crowd in the courtyard, wondering what was happening, and it had become perfectly, horribly clear. The axe was shining, but it was the body that caught Merlin’s attention. The familiar robes, the slight hunch of the back, the familiar white hair, which was mired in thick, dark blood.
Gaius had been executed.
Merlin had heard the whispers around him.
“Used sorcery, he did.”
“Saved the Queen.”
“No exceptions to the law, the King said.”
“No exceptions.”
“No exceptions.”
“No exceptions.”
“Merlin.”
Merlin doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look at Arthur, who his no doubt standing in the doorway. He just continues to look at the ruins of his life.
“He broke the law, Merlin.”
He doesn’t respond, just slowly picks up Gaius’ satchel. It’s full of medicine vials. He hadn’t even had time to make his rounds. For a moment, Merlin thinks that Lord Holdwine won’t be able to taste his supper tonight if he hasn’t taken his tonic. As if it still matters.
“I can’t make exceptions, no matter how dear the person is to me.”
Suddenly, Merlin can’t help but speak. He still doesn’t turn around, however. “You did for Mordred. More than once.” It’s true. Arthur helped Mordred flee when Uther’s laws would have seen him dead. Arthur had been willing to see magic return to save the younger man’s life.
Clearly, Arthur only makes exceptions when it’s convenient.
“That was different.”
Now Merlin turns and faces Arthur. Except he can’t see him as Arthur. He looks at this man, at this king, and sees only the man who murdered the one Merlin called father.
“It’s exactly the same, sire.” Merlin wonders if this is how it feels to see destiny broken. “My congratulations,” he says softly. “You finally finished what your father and Aredian started.”
Arthur flinches. Merlin doesn’t care. He’s done.
Now he just has to bring himself to leave Camelot without killing everyone in this Gods-forsaken place.
Merlin sits among the wreckage of his home and wonders how it has come to this. The chamber has been completely wrecked. The vials of medicine, so carefully arranged and documented, have been shattered on the stone floor. The small library that has been collected over the years also lies on the floor, its pages ripped from their bindings. The room is cold and dark without a fire burning in its place.
It had happened while Merlin had been gathering herbs, which, he supposes, must have been deliberate. Better he not be here to interfere, he thinks bitterly. In fact, he’d come back just after the deed had been done. He’d pushed his way through the crowd in the courtyard, wondering what was happening, and it had become perfectly, horribly clear. The axe was shining, but it was the body that caught Merlin’s attention. The familiar robes, the slight hunch of the back, the familiar white hair, which was mired in thick, dark blood.
Gaius had been executed.
Merlin had heard the whispers around him.
“Used sorcery, he did.”
“Saved the Queen.”
“No exceptions to the law, the King said.”
“No exceptions.”
“No exceptions.”
“No exceptions.”
“Merlin.”
Merlin doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look at Arthur, who his no doubt standing in the doorway. He just continues to look at the ruins of his life.
“He broke the law, Merlin.”
He doesn’t respond, just slowly picks up Gaius’ satchel. It’s full of medicine vials. He hadn’t even had time to make his rounds. For a moment, Merlin thinks that Lord Holdwine won’t be able to taste his supper tonight if he hasn’t taken his tonic. As if it still matters.
“I can’t make exceptions, no matter how dear the person is to me.”
Suddenly, Merlin can’t help but speak. He still doesn’t turn around, however. “You did for Mordred. More than once.” It’s true. Arthur helped Mordred flee when Uther’s laws would have seen him dead. Arthur had been willing to see magic return to save the younger man’s life.
Clearly, Arthur only makes exceptions when it’s convenient.
“That was different.”
Now Merlin turns and faces Arthur. Except he can’t see him as Arthur. He looks at this man, at this king, and sees only the man who murdered the one Merlin called father.
“It’s exactly the same, sire.” Merlin wonders if this is how it feels to see destiny broken. “My congratulations,” he says softly. “You finally finished what your father and Aredian started.”
Arthur flinches. Merlin doesn’t care. He’s done.
Now he just has to bring himself to leave Camelot without killing everyone in this Gods-forsaken place.