every fire is a lesson learned, part three (merlin)
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings/Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana, Gaius, the Slash Dragon, very light Arthur/Merlin
Rating: T
Warnings: Some language, angst, probably some out of character actions.
Summary: Morgana discovers Merlin's magic in a dream and, in revealing him, changes the course for Camelot.
Notes: Written for merlinreversebb with the fanvideo done by the lovely mangacat201.
Merlin folded Arthur’s shirts over his arms with a sigh, walking down the hallway with his head down, biting his lip. He wondered if Morgana, Arthur, and Uther had left the throne room yet, what they’d discussed, if Morgana had spilled his secret--
Boots on the floor. Merlin tensed and looked up. Arthur was coming down the hall, face solemn, surrounded by guards. Merlin’s heart lept into his throat, his stomach curling anxiously into knots. Arthur’s face, the guards, that could only mean--
“Merlin,” Arthur said as he approached. “You are under arrest for suspected use of sorcery.”
Merlin dropped the shirts.
“Arthur--” he said, desperate, “Arthur, please--”
“Be silent,” Arthur said, cold and distant as stone. “You will be escorted to the dungeons, where you will stay until the King decides your fate. Guards, take him.”
“Arthur!” Merlin cried as the guards seized his arms, carrying him away down the hall. Merlin twisted to keep Arthur in his sights, but the guards’ grips were firm. “Arthur, I’m sorry--”
Arthur didn’t turn to look at him.
-
Arthur breathed in and out, deep and even, staring out at the darkening sky. It had been two hours since Merlin had been taken to the dungeons.
I don’t know what to do, he admitted silently to the room. Merlin was about as close to a best friend as anyone had managed to get with Arthur. And, sometimes, when Merlin turned a certain way, or the light was right, Arthur wanted nothing more than to--
No, Arthur instructed himself sternly. You know nothing can come of those thoughts. Even if Merlin hadn’t been a servant, Arthur was still Prince of Camelot. He had a duty to his people to provide them with heirs. Any--dalliances on the side would not be condoned until he was married and had a child. And Arthur had always disliked the idea of mistresses, for he felt it wasn’t right to ask a woman to stand by the side while he was wed to someone else. The thought of asking that of Merlin, who was his closest friend and strongest ally, made Arthur feel sick.
So, no, it couldn’t matter that Arthur sometimes wondered what Merlin’s skin would feel like under his hands, or that his plush lips featured heavily in Arthur’s fantasies. And, most importantly, his desire for Merlin couldn’t factor into this situation because--
Well, it would only make Arthur want to save Merlin more, and he wasn’t sure he could.
He’d considered it the moment Uther had dropped his amusement and taken Morgana’s claims seriously. Because Merlin, even if he was a sorcerer - which he couldn’t be, it was Merlin for God’s sake - had been his loyal servant since they were forced together, and far longer than Arthur had deserved it. Merlin had stuck by him through everything.
But. If it was true, if Merlin was a sorcerer, then--
Had he ever wanted to kill Arthur? Uther? Had he ever arranged for one of Arthur’s numerous magical enemies to attack? Had he ever spread their secrets, which they had entrusted to him?
Arthur had watched sorcerers burn since he was five years old. He wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin betrayed them as revenge for his people.
But it was so difficult to imagine Merlin going against them--against him. It was even harder to imagine that Merlin was a sorcerer. Merlin was all bumbling, ineffectual energy, a kind-hearted if clumsy soul. Arthur couldn’t imagine him as the ruthless killer Uther had told him all sorcerers were. But Morgana--well, Morgana had no reason to make it up. And Arthur remembered her leaving soon after Merlin last night, remembered the confrontation he’d played witness to--
“Just a difference of opinion, that’s all,” Merlin had said.
Arthur felt sick.
He twitched when he heard his door open, and turned to see Morgana entering, her face full of hesitation.
“Are you alright?” she asked softly, closing the door behind her.
“My manservant has just been accused of sorcery,” he said baldly. “I’m just peachy, Morgana.”
Morgana approached him cautiously. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I know how close you two are, but I had to tell Uther. He’s been in our fold for so long--”
“And he’s in the perfect place to betray us, I know,” Arthur finished for her. “You’re sure that he was practicing magic, Morgana?”
“Yes,” she said, with a hint of sharpness to her tone. “I’m sure. I know what magic looks like, Arthur. His eyes were gold.”
Arthur wondered what Merlin would look like with golden eyes, then shook the thought away. He’d never know.
“Has father decided?” he asked brusquely, trying not to show his vulnerability.
Morgana paused, then put a hand on his shoulder. “His execution is to be tomorrow, at midday.”
Arthur willed himself to breathe.
He’d hoped that his father would look at Merlin’s long years of service and see not betrayal but loyalty. He’d hoped that Merlin would somehow come away with a banishment sentence instead, which would be horrible but so much better than--
Tomorrow, Merlin would be dead. He would never bumble about Arthur’s room in the morning with breakfast, never smile at Arthur with something close to pride during practice, never roll his eyes or call Arthur clotpole--
Arthur stood. He had to talk to Uther, fix this--
“Arthur,” Morgana said softly, her hand still on his shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do. Merlin is going to die.”
Arthur wanted to protest, to yell, to tell her that he would do something god damnit, because Merlin had been hiding this secret from him for years but he had been Arthur’s friend for just as long--
But, strangely, he sat back down. He felt weak-kneed and light-headed, as if he’d had too much wine.
“You’re right,” he said, without realizing he was going to. “Merlin is going to die. There’s nothing I can do.” Then, suddenly feeling tired, he added, “Leave me, Morgana. I need to sleep.”
Morgana slid silently out of the room. Arthur stood mechanically, his head still strangely full of wool, and went to his bed, collapsing on top of it and falling into a deep sleep.
-
Outside of Arthur’s door, Morgana smiled.
-
Merlin paced his cell, biting his lip. It took him ten steps to get from one side to the other, he noted distantly. He switched sides, going from the bars of his cell to the tiny, dingy window. Only eight steps for that one.
“I’m going to die tomorrow,” he said aloud, getting used to the weight of it.
He’d always thought about what it would be like to be found out, what would happen when his secret was finally realized. But he’d always hoped it would come sometime after Uther’s reign, that he would reveal himself when Arthur was King and, perhaps, when Arthur was more amiable to magic. He’d hoped that, at the very least, he wouldn’t be burned to death.
Merlin’s knees shook and he sank into a sitting position. He remembered, with sudden, vivid, clarity, his first day in Camelot, how he’d watched that poor sod burn on the pyre. He wondered, distantly, if it would hurt, if he would feel it.
He buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to die. Not just because he had a destiny to fulfill, though that was part of it. He wanted to live because--well. The thought of being wiped out, of never seeing Gwen or his mother or Arthur again--
Merlin shuddered.
“You have a visitor,” the guard announced with a sneer.
Merlin jerked up, hoping that the dim light masked his tears. “A what?!” he exclaimed, just as Arthur came into view.
Merlin stared, his heart stuttering.
“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, coming up to the bars.
“Arthur,” Merlin said, standing. “What are you doing here--”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I came to see you.”
“But--” Merlin said, trying to wrap his head around Arther being there, coming to see him, even though Merlin was, Merlin was--
Arthur scowled at him. “You’re an idiot, Merlin,” he said crossly. The scowl evened out. “And apparently a sorcerer as well.”
Merlin paused, then said, hurriedly, hoping Arthur would hear all of it, “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t, your father would have--And the Dragon said it was a bad idea, and I had never hurt you, Arthur--”
“The Dragon?” Arthur asked, incredulous and on the edge of anger. “Why would you listen to that creature, after what it did to Camelot?”
Merlin paused. “I talked to him before that incident,” he confessed quietly, coming to the realization that if he was going to die tomorrow, it didn’t matter if Arthur knew all of his secrets. “I was the one who set him free.”
“What?!” Arthur yelled, hand flying to his sword hilt. Merlin flinched away. “Merlin, why in God’s name--”
“He helped me!” Merlin protested. “He told me how to save you so many times, how to save Camelot so many times! And he asked to be repaid with his freedom. I put it off as long as I could, but after the last time we saw Morgause--”
Arthur’s hand fell away from his hilt. “You’re the reason she called them off,” he said with shock. “You did something--Merlin, what did you do?”
Merlin laughed, feeling almost hysterical. So many secrets to tell. “I poisoned Morgana,” he said.
Silence.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, slow and furious, “explain, or I will watch your death with happiness.”
Merlin laughed again. “Morgana was the only one awake, Arthur,” he said. “Looking bad, I don’t think she even realized, but--Morgause did something to her. That spell, it needed a--key, if you will, something to hold it together, something in Camelot.”
“Morgana was the key,” Arthur said.
“Yes,” Merlin said, weary. “If she had remained alive, the spell would never have broken. However, Morgause came upon us as she was dying and willingly broke the spell in order to keep Morgana alive, to know what I poisoned her with so she could save her.” Merlin spread his hands. “And in killing Morgana, I kept Camelot safe, kept you safe.”
Arthur stared at him, all wide blue eyes and shock. “How many times have you done something like that, Merlin?” he demanded. “How often have you saved my skin without me knowing?”
Merlin smiled, and he knew that it looked tight and hard and grim, but he was dying tomorrow, so he figured that gave him a reason to look less than cheerful. “Too many times to count,” he said.
Arthur took a deep breath. “Is that why Morgana is telling my father about this now?”
Merlin shrugged. “She never knew before now, but I have no doubt it’s the main reason she’s telling him at all.”
Arthur blinked. “How on Earth did you manage to keep it a secret?” he said, almost to himself.
“I’m much sneakier than you give me credit for!” Merlin cried indignantly, and when Arthur gave him an incredulous look, it almost felt like everything was normal.
Then, of course, he saw his bars and realized that nothing would be normal again.
Arthur cleared his throat. “My father won’t--won’t spare you,” he said. Merlin blinked in surprise at the crack in his voice.
“I didn’t think he would,” he said. “Uther’s not exactly known for being a kind man.”
Arthur tensed. Merlin eyed him, then sighed.
“Arthur, will you listen to the advice of a dead man?”
Arthur smiled a bit, though it wasn’t a happy expression. “The dead man has been the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had - I think I can spare him my ear.”
Warmth burst in Merlin’s chest. Arthur rarely let him know if he appreciated Merlin’s company outside of subtle friendly gestures - to hear him outright say that they were friends, close friends, was something that Merlin never expected.
“Uther’s wrong,” he said. Arthur’s eyes snapped to his, angry and intense. “About magic, I mean. And you’d do well not to follow in his footsteps when it comes to it.”
“Why not?” Arthur asked, on edge. “After all, sorcerers have done nothing but--” he stopped, expression twisting.
“But hurt you?” Merlin finished for him wryly. “Except for me, of course. And Balinor.” Merlin paused, then added, “He was my father, by the way.”
Arthur’s jaw dropped. “Balinor--”
“--was my father,” Merlin finished. “I didn’t know until we left to go get him. Gaius told me.” Merlin paused, heart jumping to his throat. “Arthur, you can’t let Uther do anything to Gaius--”
Arthur waved a hand. “He won’t. He’s proclaimed Gaius to be innocent, unknowing of your sorcery.”
Merlin sighed in relief, relaxing. “Don’t let him come to my--Well. Don’t let him come, alright? Order him away.”
Arthur examined him closely, then sighed. “You’re a mystery, Merlin. A sorcerer who cares for people and who’s saved my life.”
“Sorcerers aren’t evil, Arthur,” Merlin said tiredly. “Magic isn’t evil, even. But if you give someone the power to do what he wants, when he wants . . . It can corrupt people. Power does that. But it doesn’t corrupt everyone who uses it.” Merlin smiled a bit. “It’s a bit like being a King, actually. There are some Kings who are corrupt because they can do what they want without anyone going against them, and some who use their power for good because they feel they have the responsibility to do so.”
Arthur gaped at him, eyes full of shock. Merlin smiled a little bit. He always enjoyed getting that expression from Arthur.
“You’re comparing sorcerers and Kings--” Arthur started, fury in his voice.
“Yes,” Merlin interrupted before he could get any further. “Because they’re the same, Arthur. You and I--we’re not so different. I have the power to kill men with a flick of my hand - and so do you. And yet,” he paused, staring at Arthur, willing him to understand, “neither of us use that power unless we have no other choice.”
Arthur whirled on his heel and started pacing the outside of Merlin’s cell. “Merlin,” he said, his voice ragged. “You’re going to die tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Merlin said, and tried to ignore the quaver he could hear when he spoke. “But I’m not going to die because I’m wrong. I’m going to die because your father is wrong.” He paused, then decided to throw caution to the wind. “And you know it.”
Arthur slammed his fist against the wall. Merlin jumped and flinched back as Arthur whirled on him, eyes angry. “Merlin, you’re a sorcerer. I have no choice but to let this happen, you know that!”
“There’s always a choice, Arthur,” Merlin told him, hope blossoming. If he could just convince Arthur that his father was wrong, if he could convince Arthur that he didn’t deserve to die, then maybe--
Arthur shook his head and Merlin’s hope died. “I cannot help you, Merlin,” he said, almost helplessly. “You’ve made your choice and my father caught you. As much as I--” He paused, then took a deep breath. “As much as I care for you, I cannot help you.”
Merlin bowed his head and tried to shove the disappointment away. He’d known this would be the result. He hadn’t even thought Arthur would come down and see him.
He laughed a little. “I’m scared, Arthur,” he whispered. “I don’t want to die.”
Merlin jumped when a hand touched his shoulder through the bars. He looked up to see Arthur close to him, eyes wide and troubled.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said helplessly. “I’m so sorry--”
Merlin took a deep breath. “Go, Arthur. You’ve made your choice.”
Arthur paused, staring at Merlin. Merlin stared back evenly until Arthur finally looked away and turned to leave.
Merlin waited until the sound of Arthur’s boots faded away to crumple in on himself.
-
The day of Merlin’s execution dawned foggy and dark.
His burning was set for midday, so Merlin had the pleasure of waking up early and waiting for hours, every sound making him think the guards were finally coming from him. By the time they actually did come for him, he was worn around the edges and on edge.
They marched him through the castle, and Merlin took the time to say goodbye to the places that he’d come to know so well. Ealdor would always be home to him, but Camelot had become a place he loved dearly. He wondered what the other servants thought of him now, what Gwen thought--
He swallowed those thoughts as he was led out into the courtyard, into the fog. He flinched when he saw the crowd of people gathered, but otherwise betrayed no other emotion as he was led to the stack of wood that made up his pyre. He was hustled onto it and tied tightly. Merlin looked out into the crowd and bit back a curse when he saw Gaius standing there, front and center, staring up at him with wet eyes.
“This man,” Uther said from his seat high in the castle, “has committed the crime of sorcery, for which he will burned to death. If he has any last words, let him speak them now.”
There was a pause. Merlin took a deep breath.
“My only crime,” he said, as loudly as he could, “was being born different. I will offer no apology for that. As for you, Uther--” he looked up where Uther’s voice had come from, hoping that he was looking directly at him and ignoring the gasp that went through the crowd at the way he insolently refused to use Uther’s title, “I hope that every death you’ve caused, innocent or otherwise, haunts your sleep, your dreams, and your every waking hour. I hope you come to realize the pain you’ve brought not only on my people,” and Merlin felt a fierce, sudden joy at being able to claim them as his people, publicly and without shame, “on the dragons of old, on my family and on your own charges.”
“Burn him!” Uther called out, sounding furious.
Merlin took a deep breath as a guard stepped forward, torch lit, and lowered it to set the pyre alight. He tilted his head back and waited for the heat, for the flames, for his sudden painful death. He closed his eyes, almost at peace.
Then a roar echoed throughout the courtyard. Merlin’s eyes snapped open.
Kilgharrah roared again, this time with flames, and set the crowd running, screaming. Guards attempted to take up an attack position, but they were too caught off guard to make any semblence of order.
“Hello, warlock,” Kilgharrah said as he dipped low. “I think it’s time for you to take your leave.”
With that, he scooped Merlin and the piece of wood he was tied to up in his talons and took flight.
“Kilgharrah!” Merlin shouted, voice hoarse with Dragonspeech. “Kilgharrah! We cannot do this! I must go back!”
Kilgharrah, however, ignored him and continued to fly.
-
Arthur watched as his father paced the throne room.
“He must be a Dragonlord,” Uther said furiously. “That is the only explanation for why the dragon would save him.”
Arthur paused, then said. “He told me his father was Balinor.”
Uther dropped heavily into his seat. “Balinor,” he repeated with disbelief. Then his eyes narrowed. “And when did he tell you this?”
Arthur hesitated. “I went down to see him last night,” he admitted. “I wanted answers from him. While I was there, he mentioned that his father was Balinor.”
“And you didn’t think to share this information with me?” Uther asked dangerously.
Arthur tensed. “I figured that since he was to be burned to death it wouldn’t matter,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “And you did know he’d conversed with the dragon before.”
“People other than Dragonlords can speak to dragons!” Uther said impatiently. “If you had told me, I would have thought to be more prepared for a Dragon swooping in!”
“I apologize,” Arthur said stiffly. “I didn’t realize it was so important.”
Uther sighed heavily, anger dropping from him a little. “We need to find him,” he said. “Send out knights immediately.”
Arthur hesitated, then said, “Why not just let him go?”
Uther turned to stare at him. Then, slowly, he said, “Arthur, I understand that you care for this boy more than is really warranted for a servant, but he is a sorcerer, and a Dragonlord at that. Not to mention everything he knows about us, from working here for years. He’s dangerous.”
“He’s one boy,” Arthur said, though something in him protested at calling Merlin, who was his age, a boy. “He may be a Dragonlord, but there is only one dragon left alive. He isn’t all that powerful. I say, we let him go. There’s no way we can catch up with him anyways, not if he’s flying dragonback. He could be in any country by now.”
Uther scowled, brow furrowing. “You may be right,” he said reluctantly. “If he’s still on Dragonback, he could be anywhere, and we can’t afford to cross borders right now. But I’ll have the patrols strengthened along the borders, and we’ll tell our contracts to keep their ears open for a sorcerer boy and a dragon. If he comes back to Albion, he is a dead man, do you understand me, Arthur? He will not be spared.”
Arthur bowed his head so that his father wouldn’t be able to see the happiness in his face. “Yes, father. May I go now? I still have practice with my knights.”
Uther sighed. “Yes, Arthur, you may go.”
Arthur hurried out of the throne room and bumped into Morgana. “Is he going to pursue Merlin?” she demanded.
Arthur paused, thrown by her vehemence. “No,” he said. “Not unless he returns to Albion. With a Dragon, he’s too far out of our reach to track him.”
Morgana pursued her lips, and for a moment she looked more coldly angry than Arthur ever remembered her being. Just as quickly, the expression was wiped from her face, replaced by a gentle smile.
“Hopefully he doesn’t come back to Albion,” she said sweetly.
“Yes,” Arthur said, a spark of suspicion in him. “Hopefully he doesn’t.”
Part Four
Pairings/Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana, Gaius, the Slash Dragon, very light Arthur/Merlin
Rating: T
Warnings: Some language, angst, probably some out of character actions.
Summary: Morgana discovers Merlin's magic in a dream and, in revealing him, changes the course for Camelot.
Notes: Written for merlinreversebb with the fanvideo done by the lovely mangacat201.
Merlin folded Arthur’s shirts over his arms with a sigh, walking down the hallway with his head down, biting his lip. He wondered if Morgana, Arthur, and Uther had left the throne room yet, what they’d discussed, if Morgana had spilled his secret--
Boots on the floor. Merlin tensed and looked up. Arthur was coming down the hall, face solemn, surrounded by guards. Merlin’s heart lept into his throat, his stomach curling anxiously into knots. Arthur’s face, the guards, that could only mean--
“Merlin,” Arthur said as he approached. “You are under arrest for suspected use of sorcery.”
Merlin dropped the shirts.
“Arthur--” he said, desperate, “Arthur, please--”
“Be silent,” Arthur said, cold and distant as stone. “You will be escorted to the dungeons, where you will stay until the King decides your fate. Guards, take him.”
“Arthur!” Merlin cried as the guards seized his arms, carrying him away down the hall. Merlin twisted to keep Arthur in his sights, but the guards’ grips were firm. “Arthur, I’m sorry--”
Arthur didn’t turn to look at him.
-
Arthur breathed in and out, deep and even, staring out at the darkening sky. It had been two hours since Merlin had been taken to the dungeons.
I don’t know what to do, he admitted silently to the room. Merlin was about as close to a best friend as anyone had managed to get with Arthur. And, sometimes, when Merlin turned a certain way, or the light was right, Arthur wanted nothing more than to--
No, Arthur instructed himself sternly. You know nothing can come of those thoughts. Even if Merlin hadn’t been a servant, Arthur was still Prince of Camelot. He had a duty to his people to provide them with heirs. Any--dalliances on the side would not be condoned until he was married and had a child. And Arthur had always disliked the idea of mistresses, for he felt it wasn’t right to ask a woman to stand by the side while he was wed to someone else. The thought of asking that of Merlin, who was his closest friend and strongest ally, made Arthur feel sick.
So, no, it couldn’t matter that Arthur sometimes wondered what Merlin’s skin would feel like under his hands, or that his plush lips featured heavily in Arthur’s fantasies. And, most importantly, his desire for Merlin couldn’t factor into this situation because--
Well, it would only make Arthur want to save Merlin more, and he wasn’t sure he could.
He’d considered it the moment Uther had dropped his amusement and taken Morgana’s claims seriously. Because Merlin, even if he was a sorcerer - which he couldn’t be, it was Merlin for God’s sake - had been his loyal servant since they were forced together, and far longer than Arthur had deserved it. Merlin had stuck by him through everything.
But. If it was true, if Merlin was a sorcerer, then--
Had he ever wanted to kill Arthur? Uther? Had he ever arranged for one of Arthur’s numerous magical enemies to attack? Had he ever spread their secrets, which they had entrusted to him?
Arthur had watched sorcerers burn since he was five years old. He wouldn’t be surprised if Merlin betrayed them as revenge for his people.
But it was so difficult to imagine Merlin going against them--against him. It was even harder to imagine that Merlin was a sorcerer. Merlin was all bumbling, ineffectual energy, a kind-hearted if clumsy soul. Arthur couldn’t imagine him as the ruthless killer Uther had told him all sorcerers were. But Morgana--well, Morgana had no reason to make it up. And Arthur remembered her leaving soon after Merlin last night, remembered the confrontation he’d played witness to--
“Just a difference of opinion, that’s all,” Merlin had said.
Arthur felt sick.
He twitched when he heard his door open, and turned to see Morgana entering, her face full of hesitation.
“Are you alright?” she asked softly, closing the door behind her.
“My manservant has just been accused of sorcery,” he said baldly. “I’m just peachy, Morgana.”
Morgana approached him cautiously. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I know how close you two are, but I had to tell Uther. He’s been in our fold for so long--”
“And he’s in the perfect place to betray us, I know,” Arthur finished for her. “You’re sure that he was practicing magic, Morgana?”
“Yes,” she said, with a hint of sharpness to her tone. “I’m sure. I know what magic looks like, Arthur. His eyes were gold.”
Arthur wondered what Merlin would look like with golden eyes, then shook the thought away. He’d never know.
“Has father decided?” he asked brusquely, trying not to show his vulnerability.
Morgana paused, then put a hand on his shoulder. “His execution is to be tomorrow, at midday.”
Arthur willed himself to breathe.
He’d hoped that his father would look at Merlin’s long years of service and see not betrayal but loyalty. He’d hoped that Merlin would somehow come away with a banishment sentence instead, which would be horrible but so much better than--
Tomorrow, Merlin would be dead. He would never bumble about Arthur’s room in the morning with breakfast, never smile at Arthur with something close to pride during practice, never roll his eyes or call Arthur clotpole--
Arthur stood. He had to talk to Uther, fix this--
“Arthur,” Morgana said softly, her hand still on his shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do. Merlin is going to die.”
Arthur wanted to protest, to yell, to tell her that he would do something god damnit, because Merlin had been hiding this secret from him for years but he had been Arthur’s friend for just as long--
But, strangely, he sat back down. He felt weak-kneed and light-headed, as if he’d had too much wine.
“You’re right,” he said, without realizing he was going to. “Merlin is going to die. There’s nothing I can do.” Then, suddenly feeling tired, he added, “Leave me, Morgana. I need to sleep.”
Morgana slid silently out of the room. Arthur stood mechanically, his head still strangely full of wool, and went to his bed, collapsing on top of it and falling into a deep sleep.
-
Outside of Arthur’s door, Morgana smiled.
-
Merlin paced his cell, biting his lip. It took him ten steps to get from one side to the other, he noted distantly. He switched sides, going from the bars of his cell to the tiny, dingy window. Only eight steps for that one.
“I’m going to die tomorrow,” he said aloud, getting used to the weight of it.
He’d always thought about what it would be like to be found out, what would happen when his secret was finally realized. But he’d always hoped it would come sometime after Uther’s reign, that he would reveal himself when Arthur was King and, perhaps, when Arthur was more amiable to magic. He’d hoped that, at the very least, he wouldn’t be burned to death.
Merlin’s knees shook and he sank into a sitting position. He remembered, with sudden, vivid, clarity, his first day in Camelot, how he’d watched that poor sod burn on the pyre. He wondered, distantly, if it would hurt, if he would feel it.
He buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to die. Not just because he had a destiny to fulfill, though that was part of it. He wanted to live because--well. The thought of being wiped out, of never seeing Gwen or his mother or Arthur again--
Merlin shuddered.
“You have a visitor,” the guard announced with a sneer.
Merlin jerked up, hoping that the dim light masked his tears. “A what?!” he exclaimed, just as Arthur came into view.
Merlin stared, his heart stuttering.
“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, coming up to the bars.
“Arthur,” Merlin said, standing. “What are you doing here--”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I came to see you.”
“But--” Merlin said, trying to wrap his head around Arther being there, coming to see him, even though Merlin was, Merlin was--
Arthur scowled at him. “You’re an idiot, Merlin,” he said crossly. The scowl evened out. “And apparently a sorcerer as well.”
Merlin paused, then said, hurriedly, hoping Arthur would hear all of it, “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t, your father would have--And the Dragon said it was a bad idea, and I had never hurt you, Arthur--”
“The Dragon?” Arthur asked, incredulous and on the edge of anger. “Why would you listen to that creature, after what it did to Camelot?”
Merlin paused. “I talked to him before that incident,” he confessed quietly, coming to the realization that if he was going to die tomorrow, it didn’t matter if Arthur knew all of his secrets. “I was the one who set him free.”
“What?!” Arthur yelled, hand flying to his sword hilt. Merlin flinched away. “Merlin, why in God’s name--”
“He helped me!” Merlin protested. “He told me how to save you so many times, how to save Camelot so many times! And he asked to be repaid with his freedom. I put it off as long as I could, but after the last time we saw Morgause--”
Arthur’s hand fell away from his hilt. “You’re the reason she called them off,” he said with shock. “You did something--Merlin, what did you do?”
Merlin laughed, feeling almost hysterical. So many secrets to tell. “I poisoned Morgana,” he said.
Silence.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, slow and furious, “explain, or I will watch your death with happiness.”
Merlin laughed again. “Morgana was the only one awake, Arthur,” he said. “Looking bad, I don’t think she even realized, but--Morgause did something to her. That spell, it needed a--key, if you will, something to hold it together, something in Camelot.”
“Morgana was the key,” Arthur said.
“Yes,” Merlin said, weary. “If she had remained alive, the spell would never have broken. However, Morgause came upon us as she was dying and willingly broke the spell in order to keep Morgana alive, to know what I poisoned her with so she could save her.” Merlin spread his hands. “And in killing Morgana, I kept Camelot safe, kept you safe.”
Arthur stared at him, all wide blue eyes and shock. “How many times have you done something like that, Merlin?” he demanded. “How often have you saved my skin without me knowing?”
Merlin smiled, and he knew that it looked tight and hard and grim, but he was dying tomorrow, so he figured that gave him a reason to look less than cheerful. “Too many times to count,” he said.
Arthur took a deep breath. “Is that why Morgana is telling my father about this now?”
Merlin shrugged. “She never knew before now, but I have no doubt it’s the main reason she’s telling him at all.”
Arthur blinked. “How on Earth did you manage to keep it a secret?” he said, almost to himself.
“I’m much sneakier than you give me credit for!” Merlin cried indignantly, and when Arthur gave him an incredulous look, it almost felt like everything was normal.
Then, of course, he saw his bars and realized that nothing would be normal again.
Arthur cleared his throat. “My father won’t--won’t spare you,” he said. Merlin blinked in surprise at the crack in his voice.
“I didn’t think he would,” he said. “Uther’s not exactly known for being a kind man.”
Arthur tensed. Merlin eyed him, then sighed.
“Arthur, will you listen to the advice of a dead man?”
Arthur smiled a bit, though it wasn’t a happy expression. “The dead man has been the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had - I think I can spare him my ear.”
Warmth burst in Merlin’s chest. Arthur rarely let him know if he appreciated Merlin’s company outside of subtle friendly gestures - to hear him outright say that they were friends, close friends, was something that Merlin never expected.
“Uther’s wrong,” he said. Arthur’s eyes snapped to his, angry and intense. “About magic, I mean. And you’d do well not to follow in his footsteps when it comes to it.”
“Why not?” Arthur asked, on edge. “After all, sorcerers have done nothing but--” he stopped, expression twisting.
“But hurt you?” Merlin finished for him wryly. “Except for me, of course. And Balinor.” Merlin paused, then added, “He was my father, by the way.”
Arthur’s jaw dropped. “Balinor--”
“--was my father,” Merlin finished. “I didn’t know until we left to go get him. Gaius told me.” Merlin paused, heart jumping to his throat. “Arthur, you can’t let Uther do anything to Gaius--”
Arthur waved a hand. “He won’t. He’s proclaimed Gaius to be innocent, unknowing of your sorcery.”
Merlin sighed in relief, relaxing. “Don’t let him come to my--Well. Don’t let him come, alright? Order him away.”
Arthur examined him closely, then sighed. “You’re a mystery, Merlin. A sorcerer who cares for people and who’s saved my life.”
“Sorcerers aren’t evil, Arthur,” Merlin said tiredly. “Magic isn’t evil, even. But if you give someone the power to do what he wants, when he wants . . . It can corrupt people. Power does that. But it doesn’t corrupt everyone who uses it.” Merlin smiled a bit. “It’s a bit like being a King, actually. There are some Kings who are corrupt because they can do what they want without anyone going against them, and some who use their power for good because they feel they have the responsibility to do so.”
Arthur gaped at him, eyes full of shock. Merlin smiled a little bit. He always enjoyed getting that expression from Arthur.
“You’re comparing sorcerers and Kings--” Arthur started, fury in his voice.
“Yes,” Merlin interrupted before he could get any further. “Because they’re the same, Arthur. You and I--we’re not so different. I have the power to kill men with a flick of my hand - and so do you. And yet,” he paused, staring at Arthur, willing him to understand, “neither of us use that power unless we have no other choice.”
Arthur whirled on his heel and started pacing the outside of Merlin’s cell. “Merlin,” he said, his voice ragged. “You’re going to die tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Merlin said, and tried to ignore the quaver he could hear when he spoke. “But I’m not going to die because I’m wrong. I’m going to die because your father is wrong.” He paused, then decided to throw caution to the wind. “And you know it.”
Arthur slammed his fist against the wall. Merlin jumped and flinched back as Arthur whirled on him, eyes angry. “Merlin, you’re a sorcerer. I have no choice but to let this happen, you know that!”
“There’s always a choice, Arthur,” Merlin told him, hope blossoming. If he could just convince Arthur that his father was wrong, if he could convince Arthur that he didn’t deserve to die, then maybe--
Arthur shook his head and Merlin’s hope died. “I cannot help you, Merlin,” he said, almost helplessly. “You’ve made your choice and my father caught you. As much as I--” He paused, then took a deep breath. “As much as I care for you, I cannot help you.”
Merlin bowed his head and tried to shove the disappointment away. He’d known this would be the result. He hadn’t even thought Arthur would come down and see him.
He laughed a little. “I’m scared, Arthur,” he whispered. “I don’t want to die.”
Merlin jumped when a hand touched his shoulder through the bars. He looked up to see Arthur close to him, eyes wide and troubled.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said helplessly. “I’m so sorry--”
Merlin took a deep breath. “Go, Arthur. You’ve made your choice.”
Arthur paused, staring at Merlin. Merlin stared back evenly until Arthur finally looked away and turned to leave.
Merlin waited until the sound of Arthur’s boots faded away to crumple in on himself.
-
The day of Merlin’s execution dawned foggy and dark.
His burning was set for midday, so Merlin had the pleasure of waking up early and waiting for hours, every sound making him think the guards were finally coming from him. By the time they actually did come for him, he was worn around the edges and on edge.
They marched him through the castle, and Merlin took the time to say goodbye to the places that he’d come to know so well. Ealdor would always be home to him, but Camelot had become a place he loved dearly. He wondered what the other servants thought of him now, what Gwen thought--
He swallowed those thoughts as he was led out into the courtyard, into the fog. He flinched when he saw the crowd of people gathered, but otherwise betrayed no other emotion as he was led to the stack of wood that made up his pyre. He was hustled onto it and tied tightly. Merlin looked out into the crowd and bit back a curse when he saw Gaius standing there, front and center, staring up at him with wet eyes.
“This man,” Uther said from his seat high in the castle, “has committed the crime of sorcery, for which he will burned to death. If he has any last words, let him speak them now.”
There was a pause. Merlin took a deep breath.
“My only crime,” he said, as loudly as he could, “was being born different. I will offer no apology for that. As for you, Uther--” he looked up where Uther’s voice had come from, hoping that he was looking directly at him and ignoring the gasp that went through the crowd at the way he insolently refused to use Uther’s title, “I hope that every death you’ve caused, innocent or otherwise, haunts your sleep, your dreams, and your every waking hour. I hope you come to realize the pain you’ve brought not only on my people,” and Merlin felt a fierce, sudden joy at being able to claim them as his people, publicly and without shame, “on the dragons of old, on my family and on your own charges.”
“Burn him!” Uther called out, sounding furious.
Merlin took a deep breath as a guard stepped forward, torch lit, and lowered it to set the pyre alight. He tilted his head back and waited for the heat, for the flames, for his sudden painful death. He closed his eyes, almost at peace.
Then a roar echoed throughout the courtyard. Merlin’s eyes snapped open.
Kilgharrah roared again, this time with flames, and set the crowd running, screaming. Guards attempted to take up an attack position, but they were too caught off guard to make any semblence of order.
“Hello, warlock,” Kilgharrah said as he dipped low. “I think it’s time for you to take your leave.”
With that, he scooped Merlin and the piece of wood he was tied to up in his talons and took flight.
“Kilgharrah!” Merlin shouted, voice hoarse with Dragonspeech. “Kilgharrah! We cannot do this! I must go back!”
Kilgharrah, however, ignored him and continued to fly.
-
Arthur watched as his father paced the throne room.
“He must be a Dragonlord,” Uther said furiously. “That is the only explanation for why the dragon would save him.”
Arthur paused, then said. “He told me his father was Balinor.”
Uther dropped heavily into his seat. “Balinor,” he repeated with disbelief. Then his eyes narrowed. “And when did he tell you this?”
Arthur hesitated. “I went down to see him last night,” he admitted. “I wanted answers from him. While I was there, he mentioned that his father was Balinor.”
“And you didn’t think to share this information with me?” Uther asked dangerously.
Arthur tensed. “I figured that since he was to be burned to death it wouldn’t matter,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “And you did know he’d conversed with the dragon before.”
“People other than Dragonlords can speak to dragons!” Uther said impatiently. “If you had told me, I would have thought to be more prepared for a Dragon swooping in!”
“I apologize,” Arthur said stiffly. “I didn’t realize it was so important.”
Uther sighed heavily, anger dropping from him a little. “We need to find him,” he said. “Send out knights immediately.”
Arthur hesitated, then said, “Why not just let him go?”
Uther turned to stare at him. Then, slowly, he said, “Arthur, I understand that you care for this boy more than is really warranted for a servant, but he is a sorcerer, and a Dragonlord at that. Not to mention everything he knows about us, from working here for years. He’s dangerous.”
“He’s one boy,” Arthur said, though something in him protested at calling Merlin, who was his age, a boy. “He may be a Dragonlord, but there is only one dragon left alive. He isn’t all that powerful. I say, we let him go. There’s no way we can catch up with him anyways, not if he’s flying dragonback. He could be in any country by now.”
Uther scowled, brow furrowing. “You may be right,” he said reluctantly. “If he’s still on Dragonback, he could be anywhere, and we can’t afford to cross borders right now. But I’ll have the patrols strengthened along the borders, and we’ll tell our contracts to keep their ears open for a sorcerer boy and a dragon. If he comes back to Albion, he is a dead man, do you understand me, Arthur? He will not be spared.”
Arthur bowed his head so that his father wouldn’t be able to see the happiness in his face. “Yes, father. May I go now? I still have practice with my knights.”
Uther sighed. “Yes, Arthur, you may go.”
Arthur hurried out of the throne room and bumped into Morgana. “Is he going to pursue Merlin?” she demanded.
Arthur paused, thrown by her vehemence. “No,” he said. “Not unless he returns to Albion. With a Dragon, he’s too far out of our reach to track him.”
Morgana pursued her lips, and for a moment she looked more coldly angry than Arthur ever remembered her being. Just as quickly, the expression was wiped from her face, replaced by a gentle smile.
“Hopefully he doesn’t come back to Albion,” she said sweetly.
“Yes,” Arthur said, a spark of suspicion in him. “Hopefully he doesn’t.”
Part Four