Cycles of Love (Second Cycle: Bleed)
Arthur stared as Merlin gurgled with discomfort.
The blade not hitting exactly right, fell away, the sword clashing against the rocky ground, released from the prince’s shaking hands with almost haste.
Hate him?
Merlin had wondered in Ealdor if Arthur would think anything differently of him if…
Arthur had then thought it was about an inability to fight, but this is what Merlin had been scared of. Merlin had feared he would hate him for being magical, just like his father hated everything magical. Merlin had feared his prince would have no tolerance for…
What he had been born with. What he possibly had no choice in.
And yet…
“You missed…Sire.” Merlin informed now dryly, before coughing.
Missed and yet…it was obvious some of it had been effective. The servant was in definite pain.
It was because of those words…that word. Hate. Arthur knew he should just raise the sword now, finish the job. Kill him before returning to Camelot.
Hate.
God Merlin…Holy Heaven Merlin…why do you make me think? Why do I even care?
Merlin showed one last bit of defiance. He wasn’t dead yet so of course…not ready to shut up yet either.
Arthur mused on it with dark humor.
“Just one more thing you should know. I’m not a coward. If I was I never would have kept looking out for your royal backside.”
Arthur smirked at that without any instruction to do so. Just instinct that lay beyond the brain. Even in dying Merlin would not close that big mouth of his.
Merlin had even more to say, giving no indication how deeply the blade had struck, but what seemed a shaking steadily invading his body now.
“I let the first dragon go, but I warned him to never return to Camelot. To never hurt its people again. And I did the same with this one…Sire. That may mean nothing to you…but it is important. Dragons must heed Dragonlords. They have no choice but to.”
Right. As Merlin was one. Had he always been?
Merlin answered Arthur’s unspoken question.
“I became one after my father’s death. It is passed down to son, just like you will become king…when…”
Arthur grimly swallowed, not wanting to think of such a day, and not wanting to listen. But Merlin was noticeably trembling now. His speech was interrupted by tremors.
The servant continued, words sounding heavy.
“I don’t agree with your father’s…feelings on magic, obviously, but I know too he is right that some use magic for ill being. I am against that.
Magic should be used for good…not evil.
I was told once that our…fates are linked, yours and mine. I don’t know if that’s all true, but I know I serve you loyally. And I know that THIS part was true, many will try to stop you from becoming king. They already have.
I have served to protect you from them.”
Arthur scrutinized sharply. Was his life threatened even more than he knew? Sure he had enemies, but had there been times Merlin interfered that he did not know about?
He recalled now the moments after his feverish state, how he had marveled the fact that magical beast’s bite hadn’t actually killed him. It should have. The beast’s bite was supposed to be lethal and yet…
“How was it that I lived…you know when that Questing Beast bit me? Its bite was supposed to insure death.”
Merlin nodded his head dully. The servant’s movements were growing more ragged. Slow. His blue tunic was turning to…
Red.
“You should have died…but there was one way to guarantee your life. If I gave mine. That was the only way to keep the balance. The rule of The Old Religion…of…everything. One life for another.
But Nimueh tricked me. Instead of seeking my life, she sought my mother’s. Then later Gaius’s…so I had no choice but to get rid of her. She was too evil.”
Arthur stared, dumbfounded. Merlin could be lying to him…
But-
“Nimueh…is that the woman who tricked me in the cave when I went to find that flower to heal you?”
Merlin’s look was troubled, beyond his moans that were starting to come out now between spoken words. “Sounds like.”
Arthur slowly nodded his head, thinking of more, not focusing on the trail of blood that was starting to deepen.
“There was a light. The cave was dark and this light just…appeared. I thought it wanted to do away with me at first, but it LED me out of the cave. Did you have something to do with that Merlin?”
The servant shrugged painfully. “I guess. I honestly don’t remember Arthur. I was sick. But he said that I spoke your name during my fevers…that I conjured up something. Gaius told me-
The servant bit his tongue.
Arthur listened with understanding. Maybe Merlin was a betrayer, but he couldn’t have faked his love for Gaius, like he was a father that…
A father…oh wow.
It was something he had little doubt the servant lied about. His father abhorred magic and could be cruel about his punishments for it, viciously cruel, blindingly. “Did my father really make your father’s life unbearable?”
Merlin wearily nodded.
“Yes. Too for both of the dragons, Sire. He chained the first one of course. He killed all the rest of his kind, but a Dragonlord in secret spared this second one you and I just faced. Your father has many enemies because of his punishments against magic, Arthur. That means you have many too.”
Merlin’s eyes closed, the fatal result of the cut creeping into his spirit.
Just a few last words he wanted to say it seemed. “I feared you would hate me. Now that’s done. It doesn’t matter…
The past years…uhhh…oh…”
Arthur’s eyes lifted. The boy was in a lot of pain. When did his tunic get so…
Bloody?
“It’s all done now. Just…Sire…
Don’t trust easily…
Too many…
Want you…
Ooooohhhh…ah…dead. They don’t want Albion to ever unite…or they don’t want…
Your father to live. Magic…restored…they…oooohhh…just…
One or another….aaaahhh…oh…Arthur…both your lives…
Merlin paused heavily through a forceful moan.
“Are…in
Danger.”
Merlin finished with a throaty gasp…his limbs spasming in ugly ways.
Albion…what was that he said? Arthur kept it in his memory to ask about…
Later.
Mostly the prince watched uncomfortably. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to just die, but the blade hit wrong. Merlin’s stupid words. Interfering. It made it slow…not mercifully fast.
“And YOU don’t want to see me dead? My father?”
Merlin shook his head quickly, moaning as the action caused more pain. “No…ooohhh…I thought you a prat when I first saw you.”
Arthur smiled, before he flattened his mouth. Concerned and…
Angry?
“Still one sometimes…but…ooohhh…you’re also…aaaahhh…Arthur he-“
Was he actually asking him to assist?
If he had been, Merlin didn’t continue the words, no matter how much discomfort he was in. “Sire…you need to become king. You’re just…oooohhhh…not ready yet. Your father’s death…”
Merlin gasped torturously now, reaching out without direction. Arthur lifted his hand, steadied it against his servant’s spasming arm. “What are you trying to say?”
“Hurts…oooohh…bad-ly. Uhhhh…oh Camelot…uh…it’s more than that. I lost a father. I wouldn’t….ooooohhh…wish it upon someone else…not even…aaaahhh…a prat.”
Merlin smiled just an inch with those last words, a snarling smile, before he reacted to another deep spasm. Tears dried on his face. Tears of years perhaps gone.
Arthur looked down at the sword. One swift dig. All it would take. He’d die instantly this time.
Turning back to his servant, he saw the strong trails of blood. He had not hit his heart, but he got close. If Merlin died this way, it would be slowly, torturously, but Merlin still could be…
His father would think him a coward, a weak being. He should not care. And yet…
Violently Arthur ripped the bottom of his tunic, cutting it away to reveal part of his own unmarred skin, except for the bruises from the dragon’s attempt to kill.
Attempt. He should be dead.
But for Merlin.
Merlin…gurgling, choking, coughing, struggling to reach for something. Merlin hurt.
How many times had he protected the boy, relieved when Merlin was okay?
Now he might be dying.
Would he sit and watch?
Saved.
That was the other choice. Possibly the most stupid one.
Merlin could be saved.
Arthur pushed through the soaked material with his. Pressed against the wound firmly.
Merlin’s lips parted with shock.
Arthur smiled dryly.
“Close your mouth Merlin.”
“What…aahhhh…are you doing? I thought you wanted me dead-
Arthur shook his head.
Stupid boy never listened. Always going beyond yes-no answers. Always challenging him. Always…
If he had been so wrong all these years, if Merlin was truly evil, why was he lying so acceptingly now, lying on the ground that is? Merlin had the chance to stop him and he had backed away from it, instead enduring Arthur’s blade.
Merlin was staring at him.
Arthur battled with brain and heart, growling his words.
“Just shut up and lie still so it doesn’t spread so fast.”
The servant seemed baffled, but also was not moving as much.
It relieved Arthur. Something was just so terrible about those spasms. So hard to watch. Merlin was moaning still, but preventing the bleeding was…maybe working?
What was he doing? Why hadn’t he just-
Merlin said he bargained his own life for his. Was that true? A lie? It definitely wasn’t a lie that Merlin swallowed a goblet of poison for him. He saw it happen. He watched the boy fall to the ground after smiling that it was fine. Merlin had truly been sick then. Merlin had nearly died then. Later, when he ordered him to stay, Merlin followed him to that beach. He wanted to drink the ‘poison’ there too…but Arthur wouldn’t let him. He drank it first himself, not caring what the test did, just…
He couldn’t let Merlin die then. It was his fault about the unicorn. He would be the sacrifice for it then.
That night of the first dragon, nearly even knight died, but a few others and…him. Merlin prevented that dragon from killing him, from returning to Camelot. Merlin prevented this dragon from killing him. Yes he allowed the deaths of the other knights, people, but…because he knew how dangerous his secret was?
Maybe Merlin’s mission really was to protect…as was his own.
Think about it.
If so malevolent, why did Merlin put up with it? If he was a sorcerer and nothing else, with sinful ambition, why would Merlin come to Camelot where magic was banned, and stay when he found that out? Why would he take that chance?
Years ago, after their first volatile encounter, Merlin stopped that flying blade, the first of many, from reaching his heart, the evening his father granted the boy with the unglorified position of service to his prince.
Yet Merlin took it, a sorcerer who could go onto much bigger ambitions, chose to serve…
Him.
Putting up with all the physical abuse, allowing the punishing boring hours sometimes of drudgery work.
Why?
It pierced the silence, ripped through his thoughts, another strangled moan, a row of uncontrollable coughs. Arthur’s other hand actually soothed at the blue enclosed shoulder. Past his lips came the most hidden hush of quiet, nearly gentle. And yet nothing too easily revealed.
He could tell by the servant’s floundering eyes that he still had no idea what the prince’s motive, intended destination was Arthur gave no answers as he asked dryly,
“Have you lied about it all…your inability to fight?”
Merlin gave a crooked smile. “Definitely not. You’ve seen me with a sword…though…uuuhhh….actually I’m a lot better now.”
Yeah…like better enough to keep it from stabbing his foot.
Ha.
The prince smiled a fraction with amusement.
Merlin just came out with it.
“Aren’t you going to kill me Sire?”
Wasn’t he?
This kind of treachery, it would be more merciful to just stab him this time with no holding back and leave him here to bleed it out.
If ever found out in Camelot, if he told his father of Merlin’s secret, the boy would first be manacled and thrown into the dungeons. There he would suffer through days and sleepless nights of painful torture with no real outcome, but the first intended one, burned at the stake. He would be forced to his knees in shameful confession at the king’s throne. Hands bound at his back, he would be paraded out into the square of Camelot, pushed against the waiting trunked pillar of forest wood, ready to burn the instant the spark was lit, and yet slowly enough to be good show for those who enjoyed this sort of sickening thing. His feet would be bound to the unmoving boundary too, and yet nothing would be done to his eyes. The king wanted them to all watch as the fire licked at their vulnerable flesh. The king seemed to endure their voices horrific hollers before he turned his back and left it to what it was…punishment for treacheries.
Arthur wondered darkly if Merlin would scream like others had, or more likely just stand there with hollow eyes and succumb to it. Merlin would probably be quiet, before the heat of the embers would force his throat to screech at the agony of his flesh ripping.
Of course he had one other choice. One that would signal his own…
Flat out deceit.
And yet keep a life.
Moans that he couldn’t hold back were coming out of the boy’s mouth. The bleeding was still flowing too freely. He could keep pressing. Never give up. Keep the boy ali-
Or…
Arthur pressed more, hampering the bleeding’s progress, and finally answering the boy’s question, at least a bit.
Would he kill him?
“Not yet.”
Merlin started to question more. Arthur put up his hand for silence, only getting it after a few mumblings. Merlin never changing, always babbling when he should shut his dumb mouth.
“Oh and…”
A hollow weak question of ‘yes’?’ Came from the servant.
As Arthur contained the bleeding. Should have just killed him.
Heart’s instinct was too strong though, superior over the brain’s, for the moment at least.
“You were wrong.”
The words were incredible where they came from, but they were the truth. Implicit trust given doesn’t end that easily. And Arthur simply was no fool when it came to giving that kind of…
Trust.
“I don’t hate you Merlin.”
“Did you hear me Sire?
When do you plan to see her?”
Arthur drifted out of the memory, his servant’s insistent prattling loudly cutting through. In that cave not pondering his decision too deeply nor understanding it, always more a man of action, Arthur did press the material down with as much care as needed. He kept it there strongly until most the bleeding was squelched. Then he had assisted his servant to rest against the cold ground, as he sat by with watching…
Confused eyes.
What would his next move be?
Would he reveal his servant’s secret?
Only time would answer those questions. But let it be said. In that cave, the victor was…
The heart.
“That is none of your concern…Merlin.”
Arthur recalled now a more recent memory, and yet equally painful. He loved her so much, just like he cared for his servant more than he would admit outwardly. He had rushed into Gaius’s room of healing to be with her, to hold her close and…
There he was again. Lancelot. Arthur didn’t hate him, but he hated what he signified.
Everything crashed then, fell apart, like he supposed his body gave up too that day, leading to his collapse. That was when the blackness took over, just seconds before the ugly dreams crept in, wouldn’t leave him alone.
Just last night another, leading to dampened skin, sheets, horribly hot, horribly…
If that was what the fire had felt like for her…
She must have been…
In
Hell.
A Hell he allowed her to…
Drown in.
Merlin watched as Arthur closed his eyes heavily. His tiredness, unhappiness was still so prevalent, and yet too he was so ready to go to his duty.
This wasn’t right though. He should have spoken to her, but Merlin mused now he probably should have warned him too that Lancelot had yet to leave. He wondered now if the prince had spotted him and that was when everything…
Demolished.
Merlin considered Lancelot a good friend, but there was so much tension now between the man and the prince, all about her of course. He saw it start during their rescue of her from Hengist. It was sad to watch because before the two men had been such solid friends.
Now.
Ah.
She was a servant just like Merlin, and maybe like Merlin, not magically of course, but by some inner strength, some trick of character, she was destined to be more. Merlin could see a future with her as queen, regal, strong, and yet compassionate, kind, and beyond, not quite easy to predict.
“You need to talk to her.”
He confessed now what he probably should have stated in the first place. Sure Arthur was upset, but he didn’t know it all. He seemed to think she didn’t care and yet she did greatly. Merlin had felt from her the deep concern when he told her that Arthur was hurt from the quake.
“She’s asked about you. I told her what happened…
I told her you were injured.”
Slowly the prince opened his eyes, saw the blaze of the sun outside his window, felt it slap at his cracked pupils with fiery determination that forced him to look elsewhere. “You shouldn’t have.”
His injuries had not been even close to hers in severity. She suffered through burns. She slept an entire night that he begged her to just live. His Guinevere…to feel the heat of her lips, to be touched by her thick surrounding fingers, to fall into her eyes of midnight mystery…to…
Arthur yearned to press against her, ached to find her presence, suffered to taste the delicacies of her skin.
And yet…
He still was there, came back regularly, stubbornly wouldn’t leave her side, tended to her illness.
And in quarters around castle corners he had his own who his father expected him to give…
Vows to.
To…
He knew Merlin’s secret. Merlin knew his.
The servant was a bumbling idiot.
A loyal needed friend.
Of course he told her…
Of course his servant shouldn’t have.
A voice interrupted. It leaked with sugar’s sweetness. It was the voice of who he held tight to during the shaking of the earth, the voice he used to pretend this ugly fallacy.
The woman wrapped in blue layers of royalty rushed happily to the prince. It was all so much façade. It was all tricks of a forced upon destiny. And yet still he accepted her embrace, her kiss.
As his heart gave no real lift, no excitement.
Merlin watched the dullness of the man’s eyes.
Dwelling into hell.
For that’s all lies ever lead to.
-><-
Continued here