Merlin Fic: A Convenient Death 1/2
Title: A Convenient Death
Word count: 2,212
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for 4x11, minor violence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Spoilers for 4x11. Written for the prompt: Agravaine now knows Merlin suspects his betrayal, so he is going to silence him. Meanwhile, Arthur starts realizing something smells fishy about his uncle.
The boy was becoming a problem.
Merlin had been a thorn in Agravaine’s side for months, annoying but easily dismissed. He was just a servant, Agravaine was a lord. But now this? Accusing him of treason? Agravaine couldn’t say what bothered him more, that Merlin was aware of his treason or that Arthur trusted his word enough to check the maps himself. It was clear that Merlin had too much sway over the King for a mere servant. His nephew may try to hide it but he knew him well enough to see the friendship beneath the surface. It was inappropriate and Agravaine had spoken more than once to Arthur about it.
Before this, he would have been a fool to harm the King’s trusted manservant. The risk had not been worth it, but now... now with so much at stake he could not afford to fail Morgana.
He would not forgive himself.
His plan needed to be careful and ensure he was beyond reproach. He had hurried before when he had dealt with Eoghan and while dancing on the edge of being discovered had sent a thrill through him, he did not want to chance it again.
He knew Merlin was not from Camelot originally. Maybe he could be persuaded to return home for a visit? A forged letter from a sick mother perhaps? But Agravaine cared little about the personal lives of servants and couldn’t even remember the name of the village nor could he ensure that Arthur wouldn’t accompany Merlin.
Exile then. Arthur had already banished his beloved, it should be easier to find sufficient evidence to exile his manservant and he had already heard Arthur threaten to send him into exile over the maps. But the evidence would have to be irrefutable, Arthur would accept nothing less and it was only thanks to Morgana’s magic that Gwen had been exiled. There wasn’t time for that right now. Agravaine sighed; there was only one choice left and it would be difficult to carry it out without garnering suspicion.
Killing him outright wasn’t an option, it was not easy to carry out and it would raise suspicion.
Finding assassins who wouldn’t betray you took time.
An accident was difficult to stage.
Difficult, but not impossible.
It was hours later when the candle on his desk fluttered and died out but he made no move to light another.
He had his plan.
Merlin would not see the end of the week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Agravaine waited in an alcove until he saw Merlin leave Arthur’s room carrying his dinner plates.
“Ah! Merlin, I’m glad I caught you.”
Merlin stopped, his eyes wide as he looked around the empty corridor and Agravaine imagined he was trying to judge whether to stay or flee.
“Sire.” He acknowledged cautiously.
“How is Arthur tonight? I know these last few days have been... difficult.”
“He is fine, considering. It is not easy to heal from heartache.”
“No, it is not.” Agravaine agreed, trying his best to appear sympathetic. “I thought I would join him tonight, share some wine, and perhaps take his mind off recent events. I’m sure he could do with an evening that doesn’t involve a feast and entertaining guests.”
“I agree, sire.”
Agravaine smiled.
“Would you go to the cellar for me? I have some excellent wine that I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Could you bring a flagon to Arthur’s room?”
“Of course, sire.”
With a stiff nod, Merlin continued on his way to the kitchens. Agravaine waited until he was out of sight before moving quickly down another corridor that would lead directly to the cellar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The main cellar was stocked well, being so close to winter anything that could be preserved had been and was now neatly stacked and labelled upon shelves that reached to the ceiling. Agravaine cupped his hands and blew onto them, glad he was wearing his gloves as the chill tried to seep through.
He heard quick footsteps, hurrying down the stairs. No one wanted to spend much time down here at this time of year. Peering around the shelf he stood behind, he got a glimpse of red and blue fabric. Merlin slowed down as he scanned the shelves, looking for the wine marked with Agravaine’s sigil. He didn’t notice Agravaine step out from the shadows and he never saw the blow coming.
Merlin hit the ground hard.
His cry was cut short as the breath was knocked from his lungs. The torch he carried landed a few inches away from his outstretched hand but remained half lit.
Merlin groaned, and started to sluggishly roll over onto his back. Agravaine had stunned him but not knocked him out. As Merlin opened his eyes to see his attacker, Agravaine drew his dagger and used the hilt to strike. Merlin went limp and blood welled up from the wound on his forehead. Quickly, Agravaine went back to the shelves and nudged a sack over so it just spilled out onto the floor. Far enough that it would be obvious that it had tripped up a distracted and clumsy person.
He made sure Merlin was laid sprawled out, as if he had fallen, arranging his limbs fully in contact with the cold floor. Merlin had already started shivering, his breaths visible as short bursts of mist. He pulled off Merlin’s jacket and scarf; they would only prolong the inevitable.
Agravaine stood over Merlin and surveyed his work.
His head was still bleeding, a small puddle pooling on the stone and seeping into the crevices. Head wounds always bled a lot and Agravaine wondered if it would be the blood loss or cold that would get to him first. Either way he was satisfied, at best Merlin would succumb to the cold or his injury and at the very least if he survived he’d be incapacitated for several days and certainly not up to disrupting any plans.
He stamped out the remaining flame of Merlin’s torch, and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Agravaine smiled as he returned to his room, his plan had been executed faultlessly. No one had seen him and Merlin would not be discovered until morning. As he turned at the top of the steps to the cellar he heard a door shut down the corridor. He paused and waited a moment to check that no one was coming his way before continuing to his room. As he closed the door behind him, he leant against it savouring the adrenaline and imagining the rumours that would fly around the castle tomorrow.
‘Did you hear? The clumsy manservant died getting a flagon of wine.’
‘Such a tragic accident.’
‘That poor boy. But then he was always rather foolish.’
Time would pass, and it would become a cautionary tale to tell the children. Nothing suspicious, merely tragic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin woke groaning as his shivers jolted his aching head. He didn’t know what had happened and instinctively dragged his legs closer, curling in on himself. The stone floor beneath him leeched away his body heat but when he tried to sit up his head lurched like someone had tipped a boat and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he had passed out again.
“Ow.”
He reached towards the source of the pain and felt a wound that left his fingers slick with blood. He had a fair lump there too. He swallowed down his nausea, and tried not to panic.
“Help! Someone, help me...please.” His voice drove spikes of pain through his head even though he didn’t think he was being very loud. Silence answered him. Merlin wished he knew where he was, if there was even a chance of someone hearing him. But wait, he had magic, he didn’t need someone to come to his aid. He could help himself. He knew there was something. Yes, a spell... he’d read it... about summoning... something.
“Hlyste min...”
What came next? Gods, he was so cold. He’d never - even in the long winter nights in Ealdor... his mother had made sure. He wished he had his blanket... red was a good colour - he shuddered violently. Spell. Right.
“Hlyste...níehst bebod...” and then... and then it was...something.
He sighed. It hurt his head trying to remember, hell it hurt his head just trying to think straight. What had he been trying to do? He was so tired, he just needed a minute.
“Forbearnan,” He whispered. A small flame appeared before his face and Merlin stretched out his hand, cradling the warmth. It wasn’t much - or enough.
As Merlin’s eyes slipped shut, the flame burned out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur was awake. Something had woken him but he didn’t need to use the chamber pot nor was he thirsty, except he did feel odd. Tense. Like he had forgotten to do something and was now dreading it.
Light caught the corner of his eye and he turned quickly. An intruder? No.
A light.
A strange wisp of blue light, hovering at the foot of his bed.
It wasn’t natural.
“Who’s there?” Arthur commanded. “Show yourself, sorcerer!”
There was no answer and the light remained where it was. It didn’t feel ominous, and Arthur found the way the colour shifted mesmerising. It drifted to the door and flowed through a crack. Arthur leapt out of bed and threw on a coat before grabbing his sword, for all the good it would do against light. He hopped and stumbled into his boots on his way to the door and when he opened it the wisp was there. Waiting. Bobbing up and down like it was caught on a wave. It stayed there for a moment, like it hadn’t noticed Arthur at the door before it suddenly took off, Arthur following at a brisk pace.
The luminous wisp curled in the air, dancing like a snake as it moved down the corridor. The light seemed familiar to Arthur and after a moment he remembered where he had seen it before. The gently changing blue tones were identical to the orb that had guided him out of the cave all those years ago when Merlin had been dying of poison.
Merlin.
He hadn’t seen his manservant since dinner and he suspected he would be having some choice words with him in the morning about duties and taverns and how the two didn’t mix. He’d almost sent someone looking for him but his anger about the earlier accusation held him back. It was probably best for both of them that Merlin had decided to shirk his duties.
The light stopped.
It hovered at the top of the stairs to the cellar and waited for Arthur to catch up before disappearing down them. When Arthur turned to follow he could no longer see it and had to go back to the corridor to grab a lit torch from a sconce.
Arthur remembered seeing Agravaine coming up the stairs to the cellars earlier in the evening. Agravaine had no reason to go down there especially at that time of night; however, he did also have free rein of the castle. If he wanted to go down there, he was perfectly entitled to. And probably had good reason to, this was his uncle for crying out loud. His uncle who had been there for him, since his father’s death and who would never betray him.
He’d thought no more of it at the time, but now there was a nagging feeling in his gut. What if Merlin had been right? What if Merlin had paid the price for Arthur refusing to believe him? The last time Arthur had seen this light Merlin had been dying of poison. What if it hadn’t been looking out for Arthur but had been protecting Merlin?
Arthur flew down the steps, skipping the last few entirely.
“Merlin!”
There was no answer, and no light in the cellar except Arthur’s own. He turned to go back up the steps, only to find the wisp was behind him looking as angry as a fragment of light could be. It dived back and forth and charged towards Arthur a couple of times. If it had substance, Arthur imagined it would have shoved, not nudged him, back into the cellar.
“Right, you want me to go down. Okay. Fine.” And it was not crazy to be talking to light. No. Not at all.
He took some more steps in.
“There’s nothing here.”
Wait.
Was that?
Boots.
Very familiar boots.
On a body lying on the floor.
“Merlin!”
Arthur skidded to his knees beside him and quickly rolled him over, Merlin’s hand slapping onto the stone floor. His right side of his face was coated in blood which stood out starkly compared to the paleness of his skin.
“Merlin! Can you hear me?”
He shook him.
“Open your eyes, Merlin!”
He felt as cold as marble as Arthur pressed his fingers to the skin in search of a pulse. Thankfully, the head wound appeared to have stopped bleeding. Arthur shifted his touch, he couldn’t find the artery. Why was the fool not even wearing a jacket? Or his ever-present scarf? And Arthur’s fingers were cold, that was the only reason he couldn’t find anything. He just needed to warm his fingers. He brought them up and blew hard on them.
As Arthur’s breath misted in front of him he realised he couldn’t see Merlin’s.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is adored along with constructive criticism.
Word count: 2,212
Rating: PG
Warnings: Spoilers for 4x11, minor violence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Spoilers for 4x11. Written for the prompt: Agravaine now knows Merlin suspects his betrayal, so he is going to silence him. Meanwhile, Arthur starts realizing something smells fishy about his uncle.
The boy was becoming a problem.
Merlin had been a thorn in Agravaine’s side for months, annoying but easily dismissed. He was just a servant, Agravaine was a lord. But now this? Accusing him of treason? Agravaine couldn’t say what bothered him more, that Merlin was aware of his treason or that Arthur trusted his word enough to check the maps himself. It was clear that Merlin had too much sway over the King for a mere servant. His nephew may try to hide it but he knew him well enough to see the friendship beneath the surface. It was inappropriate and Agravaine had spoken more than once to Arthur about it.
Before this, he would have been a fool to harm the King’s trusted manservant. The risk had not been worth it, but now... now with so much at stake he could not afford to fail Morgana.
He would not forgive himself.
His plan needed to be careful and ensure he was beyond reproach. He had hurried before when he had dealt with Eoghan and while dancing on the edge of being discovered had sent a thrill through him, he did not want to chance it again.
He knew Merlin was not from Camelot originally. Maybe he could be persuaded to return home for a visit? A forged letter from a sick mother perhaps? But Agravaine cared little about the personal lives of servants and couldn’t even remember the name of the village nor could he ensure that Arthur wouldn’t accompany Merlin.
Exile then. Arthur had already banished his beloved, it should be easier to find sufficient evidence to exile his manservant and he had already heard Arthur threaten to send him into exile over the maps. But the evidence would have to be irrefutable, Arthur would accept nothing less and it was only thanks to Morgana’s magic that Gwen had been exiled. There wasn’t time for that right now. Agravaine sighed; there was only one choice left and it would be difficult to carry it out without garnering suspicion.
Killing him outright wasn’t an option, it was not easy to carry out and it would raise suspicion.
Finding assassins who wouldn’t betray you took time.
An accident was difficult to stage.
Difficult, but not impossible.
It was hours later when the candle on his desk fluttered and died out but he made no move to light another.
He had his plan.
Merlin would not see the end of the week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Agravaine waited in an alcove until he saw Merlin leave Arthur’s room carrying his dinner plates.
“Ah! Merlin, I’m glad I caught you.”
Merlin stopped, his eyes wide as he looked around the empty corridor and Agravaine imagined he was trying to judge whether to stay or flee.
“Sire.” He acknowledged cautiously.
“How is Arthur tonight? I know these last few days have been... difficult.”
“He is fine, considering. It is not easy to heal from heartache.”
“No, it is not.” Agravaine agreed, trying his best to appear sympathetic. “I thought I would join him tonight, share some wine, and perhaps take his mind off recent events. I’m sure he could do with an evening that doesn’t involve a feast and entertaining guests.”
“I agree, sire.”
Agravaine smiled.
“Would you go to the cellar for me? I have some excellent wine that I’ve been saving for a special occasion. Could you bring a flagon to Arthur’s room?”
“Of course, sire.”
With a stiff nod, Merlin continued on his way to the kitchens. Agravaine waited until he was out of sight before moving quickly down another corridor that would lead directly to the cellar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The main cellar was stocked well, being so close to winter anything that could be preserved had been and was now neatly stacked and labelled upon shelves that reached to the ceiling. Agravaine cupped his hands and blew onto them, glad he was wearing his gloves as the chill tried to seep through.
He heard quick footsteps, hurrying down the stairs. No one wanted to spend much time down here at this time of year. Peering around the shelf he stood behind, he got a glimpse of red and blue fabric. Merlin slowed down as he scanned the shelves, looking for the wine marked with Agravaine’s sigil. He didn’t notice Agravaine step out from the shadows and he never saw the blow coming.
Merlin hit the ground hard.
His cry was cut short as the breath was knocked from his lungs. The torch he carried landed a few inches away from his outstretched hand but remained half lit.
Merlin groaned, and started to sluggishly roll over onto his back. Agravaine had stunned him but not knocked him out. As Merlin opened his eyes to see his attacker, Agravaine drew his dagger and used the hilt to strike. Merlin went limp and blood welled up from the wound on his forehead. Quickly, Agravaine went back to the shelves and nudged a sack over so it just spilled out onto the floor. Far enough that it would be obvious that it had tripped up a distracted and clumsy person.
He made sure Merlin was laid sprawled out, as if he had fallen, arranging his limbs fully in contact with the cold floor. Merlin had already started shivering, his breaths visible as short bursts of mist. He pulled off Merlin’s jacket and scarf; they would only prolong the inevitable.
Agravaine stood over Merlin and surveyed his work.
His head was still bleeding, a small puddle pooling on the stone and seeping into the crevices. Head wounds always bled a lot and Agravaine wondered if it would be the blood loss or cold that would get to him first. Either way he was satisfied, at best Merlin would succumb to the cold or his injury and at the very least if he survived he’d be incapacitated for several days and certainly not up to disrupting any plans.
He stamped out the remaining flame of Merlin’s torch, and left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Agravaine smiled as he returned to his room, his plan had been executed faultlessly. No one had seen him and Merlin would not be discovered until morning. As he turned at the top of the steps to the cellar he heard a door shut down the corridor. He paused and waited a moment to check that no one was coming his way before continuing to his room. As he closed the door behind him, he leant against it savouring the adrenaline and imagining the rumours that would fly around the castle tomorrow.
‘Did you hear? The clumsy manservant died getting a flagon of wine.’
‘Such a tragic accident.’
‘That poor boy. But then he was always rather foolish.’
Time would pass, and it would become a cautionary tale to tell the children. Nothing suspicious, merely tragic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Merlin woke groaning as his shivers jolted his aching head. He didn’t know what had happened and instinctively dragged his legs closer, curling in on himself. The stone floor beneath him leeched away his body heat but when he tried to sit up his head lurched like someone had tipped a boat and for a moment he wasn’t sure if he had passed out again.
“Ow.”
He reached towards the source of the pain and felt a wound that left his fingers slick with blood. He had a fair lump there too. He swallowed down his nausea, and tried not to panic.
“Help! Someone, help me...please.” His voice drove spikes of pain through his head even though he didn’t think he was being very loud. Silence answered him. Merlin wished he knew where he was, if there was even a chance of someone hearing him. But wait, he had magic, he didn’t need someone to come to his aid. He could help himself. He knew there was something. Yes, a spell... he’d read it... about summoning... something.
“Hlyste min...”
What came next? Gods, he was so cold. He’d never - even in the long winter nights in Ealdor... his mother had made sure. He wished he had his blanket... red was a good colour - he shuddered violently. Spell. Right.
“Hlyste...níehst bebod...” and then... and then it was...something.
He sighed. It hurt his head trying to remember, hell it hurt his head just trying to think straight. What had he been trying to do? He was so tired, he just needed a minute.
“Forbearnan,” He whispered. A small flame appeared before his face and Merlin stretched out his hand, cradling the warmth. It wasn’t much - or enough.
As Merlin’s eyes slipped shut, the flame burned out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Arthur was awake. Something had woken him but he didn’t need to use the chamber pot nor was he thirsty, except he did feel odd. Tense. Like he had forgotten to do something and was now dreading it.
Light caught the corner of his eye and he turned quickly. An intruder? No.
A light.
A strange wisp of blue light, hovering at the foot of his bed.
It wasn’t natural.
“Who’s there?” Arthur commanded. “Show yourself, sorcerer!”
There was no answer and the light remained where it was. It didn’t feel ominous, and Arthur found the way the colour shifted mesmerising. It drifted to the door and flowed through a crack. Arthur leapt out of bed and threw on a coat before grabbing his sword, for all the good it would do against light. He hopped and stumbled into his boots on his way to the door and when he opened it the wisp was there. Waiting. Bobbing up and down like it was caught on a wave. It stayed there for a moment, like it hadn’t noticed Arthur at the door before it suddenly took off, Arthur following at a brisk pace.
The luminous wisp curled in the air, dancing like a snake as it moved down the corridor. The light seemed familiar to Arthur and after a moment he remembered where he had seen it before. The gently changing blue tones were identical to the orb that had guided him out of the cave all those years ago when Merlin had been dying of poison.
Merlin.
He hadn’t seen his manservant since dinner and he suspected he would be having some choice words with him in the morning about duties and taverns and how the two didn’t mix. He’d almost sent someone looking for him but his anger about the earlier accusation held him back. It was probably best for both of them that Merlin had decided to shirk his duties.
The light stopped.
It hovered at the top of the stairs to the cellar and waited for Arthur to catch up before disappearing down them. When Arthur turned to follow he could no longer see it and had to go back to the corridor to grab a lit torch from a sconce.
Arthur remembered seeing Agravaine coming up the stairs to the cellars earlier in the evening. Agravaine had no reason to go down there especially at that time of night; however, he did also have free rein of the castle. If he wanted to go down there, he was perfectly entitled to. And probably had good reason to, this was his uncle for crying out loud. His uncle who had been there for him, since his father’s death and who would never betray him.
He’d thought no more of it at the time, but now there was a nagging feeling in his gut. What if Merlin had been right? What if Merlin had paid the price for Arthur refusing to believe him? The last time Arthur had seen this light Merlin had been dying of poison. What if it hadn’t been looking out for Arthur but had been protecting Merlin?
Arthur flew down the steps, skipping the last few entirely.
“Merlin!”
There was no answer, and no light in the cellar except Arthur’s own. He turned to go back up the steps, only to find the wisp was behind him looking as angry as a fragment of light could be. It dived back and forth and charged towards Arthur a couple of times. If it had substance, Arthur imagined it would have shoved, not nudged him, back into the cellar.
“Right, you want me to go down. Okay. Fine.” And it was not crazy to be talking to light. No. Not at all.
He took some more steps in.
“There’s nothing here.”
Wait.
Was that?
Boots.
Very familiar boots.
On a body lying on the floor.
“Merlin!”
Arthur skidded to his knees beside him and quickly rolled him over, Merlin’s hand slapping onto the stone floor. His right side of his face was coated in blood which stood out starkly compared to the paleness of his skin.
“Merlin! Can you hear me?”
He shook him.
“Open your eyes, Merlin!”
He felt as cold as marble as Arthur pressed his fingers to the skin in search of a pulse. Thankfully, the head wound appeared to have stopped bleeding. Arthur shifted his touch, he couldn’t find the artery. Why was the fool not even wearing a jacket? Or his ever-present scarf? And Arthur’s fingers were cold, that was the only reason he couldn’t find anything. He just needed to warm his fingers. He brought them up and blew hard on them.
As Arthur’s breath misted in front of him he realised he couldn’t see Merlin’s.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is adored along with constructive criticism.