No one and nothing part 9 a
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: No one and Nothing part 9a
Rating: R
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur, Gaius, Leon, Iseldir, Tristan, Isolde
Summary: Merlin saves Arthur’s life in front of the whole court and has to run for his life. But when Arthur shows up, asking for help, what was Merlin to do, say no?
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1000
Camelot Drabble Prompt: 553 Epitaph
Merlin bingo M3123: G5 accidents
Author’s Notes: The other chapters are found at https://archiveofourown.org/works/46585663/chapters/117313327
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Merlin left the cleaning up to the other servants, instead watched as Arthur was pulled away to go see Gaius. Merlin hadn’t been able to shield the clotpole completely, and there were bruises where the stones had hit him and a few burns from the heat.
Instead, Merlin thought to sneak down to the dungeons and confront the sorcerer, maybe find out if he had acted alone or had been aided from traitors within Camelot or those outside the citadel who also hated the Pendragon dynasty. Merlin knew he should keep well away from the man in case suspicion might fall on him, but he was furious. After all Arthur was trying to accomplish, it seemed a poor reward to attempt to kill him.
But before he could do anything, the warning bells were already ringing. The sorcerer had escaped.
There was a lot of running around, Uther screaming out vengeance on those who had allowed him to flee, Arthur vowing to bring the man back for a final reckoning but Merlin knew the man was likely powerful enough to escape without any help. He rather pitied the poor guards, though.
Uther had sacked the old ones and it would seem the new lot of guards weren’t much better. Of course, with Uther as king, all the smart ones looked for other employment far from Camelot, with better pay and less likely to get executed for things beyond their control, like magic users dying on their watch or escaping using sorcery.
But that was neither here nor there. Merlin would have to go after him, alone.
Merlin didn’t even tell Arthur he was going. After all, what excuse could Arthur make about bringing a poor serving girl along when he already had a manservant?
Besides, Arthur was Merlin’s vulnerability. He would protect the clotpole above all else, even sacrificing his own life if he had to, and he couldn’t let the sorcerer use that against him. No, he would find the would-be assassin and deal with him on his own.
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While Arthur’s knights were off scouring the countryside, Merlin followed the trail of magic to the sorcerer’s hut.
A small place, almost a ruin but the man seemed right at home, as if he didn’t think anyone would find him there.
So when Merlin threw open the door and stomped inside, the expression on his face was almost comical.
“What do you want, girl?” Snarling at him, putting up one hand as if to blast Merlin into oblivion, he must have realised that Merlin was alone. A gleam of derision in his eyes, he waved Merlin aside. “Did that whore’s son, Uther, send a mere maid to bring me back? I thought I might need to fend off an army but I see that only a girl too stupid to know how much danger she is in.”
“You tried to murder the prince,” Merlin said, ignoring the insult. He wanted answers. “What I want to know is why. Why attack Arthur? What has he ever done to you?”
Merlin knew that he couldn’t let this one get away, that he had to pay for his attempt on Arthur’s life. But he still wanted to understand why the man hated Arthur so much. Merlin knew that Arthur’s actions in the past hadn’t been great. He was a clotpole after all and had followed Uther’s orders before he finally got his head out of his arse, but he didn’t deserve to die for it, not when he was trying to make amends.
“He’s a Pendragon. Isn’t that enough?”
So it wasn’t anything that Arthur had done himself but Uther’s doing, Arthur was just paying for the sins of his father and those sins were as myriad as the stars themselves. But while Merlin was staring at him, about to argue that his anger should be aimed at Uther instead, the man turned sly, smirking at Merlin. “You seem awfully interested in the well-being of a prince.”
“He’s a good man, a good person. He doesn’t deserve to die just because you have a vendetta against Uther,” Merlin glared at him. In a way, the whole thing was absurd, arguing with a sorcerer who hated Uther as much as Merlin did. In another lifetime, he might have helped him. But never at the cost of Arthur’s life.
“And yet you hate that whore’s son as much as I do. That vile abomination of a king. I can see it in your eyes.”
The man looked Merlin up and down, as though he might change Merlin’s mind and make him an ally. “He’s a monster who kills innocents. He doesn’t need an excuse, just an accusation of magic or something to make him look stronger in the eyes of the court. He’d destroy you without batting an eye if he thought it would gain him an advantage. Might even throw a feast. He does love to celebrate the death of lesser beings. You are no more to him than fodder to be used and then thrown away.”
It was all true. Merlin would not mourn Uther. He hated that vile despot with everything he had in him, but that wasn’t what this was about. It was Arthur’s life on the line, not Uther’s. “And yet you would kill his son for no more reason than birth, when you could use your talents for good instead.”
He laughed, as if Merlin has said something truly ridiculous. Stepping closer, his black cloak dragging in the dust, all derision in his voice, he said, “What would you have me do? Grow flowers? Create butterflies out of thin air? Use my magic to heal those who would see me dead?” He was grinning, bitterness glowing in his eyes, as he stared at Merlin. “You want to know why I hoped, still hope, to kill that prince of yours?”
So the man wasn’t going to give up trying to assassinate Arthur. Merlin had hoped to reason with him, maybe find some way to convince him to leave Camelot and never return. Even though deep down he knew the sorcerer had to be stopped, Merlin hated the thought that it would be by his hand. Every death left a mark on Merlin’s soul. It haunted him at night, made him question what he had become.
But the man wasn’t done, his eyes gleaming both vengeance and guilt. “How better to pay Uther back for killing my wife. She begged for mercy and he taunted her for it, smiling, as you know he would, that sick monster, while she screamed out her last. Screaming my name. I was too late to save her, but he should pay. He should pay. Watching that mongrel of his burning, burning just as my Olwen had, is justice for what Uther has done.”
Merlin felt sick. He had seen too much of Uther’s justice. The screams, the smell of cooked meat as their flesh melted away, hair a living torch, and in the end, not even a grave to mark their lives. Only death and grief in an endless cycle of hate.
But this man, cloaked in black, standing there threatening to destroy Arthur, was no better than Uther. Merlin replied, “I can’t let you kill Arthur. It is not justice but revenge.”