Fic :: Merlin :: The Stumble and the Fall :: Part 1: The Stumble

[zoicite]

Merlin is still there when Arthur wakes up, curled up in a ball as far away from Arthur as the bed will allow. Arthur finds himself once again staring at Merlin's back. Eventually Arthur is unable to ignore the bright light illuminating the bed. He reaches out to shake Merlin.

“What?” Merlin asks eventually, turning to blink at Arthur. “What is it?”

“It’s morning,” Arthur says, and points to the sunlight streaming in through the window beside the bed. “We have to start searching the castle.”

“Searching the castle?” Merlin repeats, rubbing a hand across his face.

Arthur looks away and sighs. “How else do you expect to find the person responsible?”

“What if they aren’t in Camelot,” Merlin asks

Arthur shrugs and pushes Merlin a bit, urging him to get out of the bed.

“Do you have a better plan then?” Arthur asks. “I suppose you intend to continue following me around, is that it? A much superior plan to actually searching for the cause of our troubles, I’m sure. Maybe they aren’t in Camelot. We won’t know for sure unless we look.”

Merlin groans and then stands, as though the whole idea of solving this, just the two of them (and Gaius, and knowing Merlin probably Gwen as well) wasn’t his idea in the first place. Arthur watches as Merlin searches the room for his tunic and neckerchief, eventually finding them half hidden beneath the bed. He turns away quickly when Merlin looks up and catches Arthur’s eyes on him.

Arthur pulls on his boots and grabs his sword. “Let’s go then,” he says, and leaves his chambers, not turning once to see if Merlin has decided to follow.

**

Arthur, for his part, has searching the grounds down to a science. The thought of doing it again is almost a comfort to Arthur in a time of crisis. Something goes wrong, search every room in the castle. Usually his search comes up empty, but this time he thinks it’s worth a try.

He employs the aid of only a few of his most trusted men. Their search is discrete, no busting into people’s rooms and demanding the right to turn them upside down. The point is not to have word get back to his father. Frankly, Arthur still isn’t entirely convinced that there is any threat at all, but Merlin insists that there is, and that it is something that they handle themselves. For now, Arthur is willing to take Merlin’s advice in the matter.

Arthur spends two days searching the castle grounds. Merlin, who is supposed to be researching the history of the castle or something, doesn’t stop following him. Arthur tries to explain that now that he understands the threat he doesn’t need to be constantly watched, and Merlin agrees to his face, but later that day Arthur sees him standing behind a column in the courtyard. Arthur rolls his eyes at Merlin and then adjusts his coat. The entire thing has gone beyond ridiculous. Merlin knows that Arthur knows he’s there. There’s absolutely no reason to hide anymore, but Merlin seems convinced that his presence should remain undetected, lest whoever is doing this realizes they are on to him or her. Arthur is pretty sure that if whoever it might be is smart enough to enchant the castle to kill Arthur, then they are smart enough to see Merlin standing behind a sign post.

One of his men notices Merlin early in the afternoon and nudges Arthur, his voice low as he points out ‘that scrawny idiot boy of yours’. Under normal circumstances Arthur would probably agree, but now, knowing that Merlin honestly thinks that he is somehow helping, Arthur instead defends his servant, essentially telling the guard to bugger off. Frankly, Merlin is more loyal to Arthur than the guard ever will be, and Arthur is tired of the charade of lying when Merlin is in earshot just to see what he can get away with.

Later in the castle alone, he rounds a corner to find Merlin waiting for him.

“There you are,” Arthur says, ready to tell Merlin that the search has been fruitless, that they need a new plan. He gets none of this out, however, because Merlin, after a series of nervous gestures during which Merlin seems unsure of what to do with his hands, leans in and kisses Arthur. His hands eventually find their place holding Arthur steady. It’s a short kiss but full of promise and when Merlin pulls away, checking the hall to make sure they are still alone, he seems visibly affected by it.

Arthur is certainly affected by it. He wipes a hand across his mouth, straightens his clothing.

“What was that for?” he asks. It’s a stupid question. His voice sounds shaky and he clears his throat, forces a cough and tries to recover.

“Nothing,” Merlin shrugs, visibly clamming up. “I shouldn’t have done - it wasn’t anything.”

Arthur shrugs, nods. He thinks he can guess the answer anyway, that Merlin heard the things that Arthur said to the guard that morning. That Merlin, so used to Arthur trumpeting off a list of Merlin’s shortcomings when provoked, was taken by surprise to hear exactly the opposite. He thinks about reminding Merlin that he’s known for some time that Merlin was following him, that a good number of the shortcomings that Arthur has been discussing so loudly are completely fabricated. He wonders if it will earn him another kiss like that.

Arthur is about to try his luck when something shifts in the hallway, the unmistakable sound of stone sliding against stone.

“What was that?” Arthur asks, forgetting about any confessions he may have been planning to make moments earlier.

“I’m not sure,” Merlin says. He starts walking and Arthur follows.

“Didn’t find anything,” Arthur notes. “The guards are fanning out into the town. Not searching, just keeping an eye out.” If Arthur starts searching the village his father will certainly hear about it in a matter of hours. He’s probably already heard about Arthur’s castle rounds.

Merlin doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look like he’s paying attention to Arthur anymore. His face is drawn as though he’s concentrating hard on something.

“What’s wrong with you?” Arthur asks.

“I’m trying to listen,” Merlin says.

Arthur shuts his mouth and tries to listen as well. The castle is silent.

“You must have better ears than I do,” Arthur says after a moment. “Bigger, certainly.”

“Shut up,” Merlin says, and then Arthur hears it. That same sound, stone sliding against stone, except that this time it’s coming from farther down the hallway. Merlin picks up his pace.

“What is that?” Arthur asks again.

Merlin starts running and Arthur follows. They are about to round a corner that Arthur knows leads to a dead end, when Arthur’s foot catches and he falls, landing face first on the stone floor of the hallway.

Arthur curses and starts pushing himself up and then Merlin is there, hands all over the place, checking to make sure that Arthur isn’t hurt.

“I’m fine,” Arthur says and pushes Merlin’s hands away. “I’m fine.”

Arthur leans forward to find what it was that caused him to trip. He notices it immediately. One of the stones in the floor is raised two inches above the rest.

“Look at this,” Arthur says, leaning in closer. Merlin crouches down beside him so Arthur can feel Merlin’s breath on his neck.

“What?” Merlin asks.

The stone is scratched on the edges, new looking indentations that leave a layer of rock dust on Arthur’s finger when he runs it across them.

Merlin raises his eyebrows, and Arthur thinks he looks a bit too smug about the whole thing.

“Did you ever consider,” Arthur asks, “that maybe I’m just not that coordinated?”

“Not really,” Merlin says, and rubs the rock dust from Arthur’s fingers.

“Or,” Arthur continues. “That maybe your lack of coordination is rubbing off on me and this entire thing is your fault?”

“Nah,” Merlin says, though he’s stopped smiling, and is instead staring intensely at the displaced stone.

“What is it now?”

Merlin shakes his head and stands, reaching out a hand to help Arthur up.

“You know,” Arthur says. “If the castle is trying to kill me, it’s doing a pretty lousy job. Tripping me? I’m starting to think maybe the castle is just trying to humiliate me.”

Merlin isn’t paying attention to him at all. In fact, Merlin has returned to staring at the damn stone.

“It’s not going anywhere,” Arthur points out in an attempt to snap Merlin out of it.

It works, sort of, in that it at least gets Merlin to look up at him. Merlin brushes some dust off Arthur’s sleeve and then says, “I almost forgot. I promised Gaius I would help him with - with some deliveries. I’d better get going.”

“Merlin,” Arthur starts, but Merlin is already running off back in the direction that they came. Arthur makes a note to speak to Gaius about Merlin’s priorities, kicks at the stone that tripped him, and heads back toward his chambers.

**

Arthur has become so accustomed to Merlin following him around, that when Merlin suddenly stops all together, Arthur is almost tempted to demand why. He is about to stalk to Merlin’s quarters and demand an explanation when he’s hit in the back of the head with a sense of reason. He was, after all, the one who told Merlin to stop with all of his nonsense. He couldn’t now reprimand Merlin for doing exactly what he’d asked him to do.

Arthur forces himself to let it go. Things are quiet in the castle and when Merlin doesn’t show up one morning, Arthur does something that he’s never done before, he gives Merlin the benefit of the doubt, and lets Merlin do whatever it is he needs to do that’s resulting in the shirking of his other responsibilities. Arthur assumes that Merlin is tending to something for Gaius, and makes a note once again to speak with Gaius about overworking Merlin. Arthur should be Merlin’s first priority, not fetching ingredients for the physician’s ointments.

Arthur dresses himself and carefully goes about his business, watching where he steps and keeping an eye out for anything that may fall. He feels silly being so wary, and down right ridiculous when Morgana taps his shoulder and he jumps in surprise.

“What are you concentrating so hard on?” she asks. “You should be careful. You might hurt yourself.”

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid,” Arthur grumbles.

“Have you seen Merlin?” Morgana asks then, one eyebrow raised. “I’d like to ask his help with something.”

“Merlin works for me, you know,” Arthur points out. “Not for you, or Gwen, or Gaius.”

“So where is he?” Morgana presses.

Arthur throws up his hands. “How the hell should I know?” he asks and storms off, nearly tripping over a pile of wood.

Merlin does not turn up at all that day, and when Merlin is nowhere to be found the next morning either, Arthur storms to the physician’s tower. He stalks past a sputtering Gaius and directly into Merlin’s room where he finds Merlin curled up on his bed reading a book.

Arthur looks around at the disarray of the room, sets his hands on his hips and looks down at Merlin.

“Are you ill?” he asks.

Merlin’s mouth is hanging open as he looks up at Arthur.

“Do you have some contagious disease?” Arthur presses.

“No,” Merlin says after a moment.

“Good. Then do you mind explaining to me why you have stopped doing your job? The castle might have killed me, and you’d have no idea because you’re up here reading.”

“I’m still - we have a new theory,” Merlin says, standing from the bed and setting the book aside, practically shoving it beneath the blankets of the bed. He gestures toward where Gaius is standing in the doorway. Arthur turns and Gaius raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“Merlin tells me that your mishaps only seem to occur when he is around,” Gaius says.

“So?”

“So we now suspect that someone hasn’t simply cursed the castle to kill you. They may have cursed the castle to kill you and frame Merlin.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Arthur says, dismissing the idea immediately. Why would anyone even care enough to try to harm Merlin?

“Did anything happen to you yesterday though?” Merlin asks. “Did you trip, slip? Did anything fall or break?”

“No,” Arthur says, and Merlin just nods.

“But that doesn’t mean anything,” Arthur protests. “It’s one day. I haven’t been having a near calamitous accident every day.”

Arthur catches the look that Merlin shoots Gaius. It is a look of disbelief, the look Merlin gets when he feels Arthur is being particularly pompous and ungrateful. Arthur opens his mouth to retort but Gaius cuts in before Arthur can pick a fight.

“Which is why we think Merlin needs to stay away from you for longer than that,” Gaius says.

“How long?” Arthur demands.

“A week,” Merlin says.

“A week?! You planned to hide out in here for a week and neither of you thought to check this with me first?”

Gaius shrugs as if to say ‘I’m an old man. Can old men really be expected to think of everything?’

“This is unacceptable,” Arthur says.

“But what if we’re right,” Merlin says. “What if I’m the reason for all of this?”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs. Merlin’s staring up at him, imploring him to go along with it all, and Arthur can’t help but wonder if he’s the reason for all of this, if maybe Merlin just needs a break from him. Merlin must have decided that he went too far when he kissed Arthur, that Arthur kissing him was one thing, but Merlin doing the same was out of bounds. Arthur opens his mouth to assure him otherwise, and then remembers Gaius standing in the doorway.

“You really believe that your presence may be connected to the events of the last few weeks?” Arthur asks, searching Merlin’s face for confirmation of his doubts.

“Yes,” Merlin says. “I really do.” Merlin’s face is open and honest and he reaches out to touch Arthur’s sleeve before thinking better of it and pulling away a little too quickly.

Arthur stares at a ball of dust on Merlin’s floor, purses his lips, and comes to a decision. “All right,” he says. “We’ll test this new theory. You have the week off.”

Merlin smiles and nods, and Arthur has to look away from the flash of teeth.

“Stay quiet and out of sight. Starting now, you’re officially ill.”

**

Arthur wakes up and dresses himself, throws another log on the fire and stares at it for a while before pulling on his boots and going out in search of food. He runs into Gwen in the hallway, carrying Morgana’s breakfast.

Gwen frowns as Arthur talks her into handing over the tray.

“Where’s Merlin?” she asks once he finally shuts his mouth, the tray of food securely in his arms.

“Contagious disease,” Arthur says. “He’s in seclusion.”

“You’re serious?” Gwen asks, suddenly horrified, her mouth hanging open.

“I am,” Arthur agrees. “I’d stay away if I were you. Wouldn’t want to catch anything. Nasty stuff. Skin peeling and pustules all over.”

Gwen just gapes at him.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Arthur assures her. “Gaius will figure out a cure in no time.”

“Is it - is it fatal?”

“I doubt it,” Arthur shrugs and takes a bite of Morgana’s bread. Gwen is looking at him now as though she can’t believe what an unfeeling brut her future king is. Arthur forces himself not to crack a smile, instead, completely serious, he says, “You know, if you happen to have the time, maybe you could bring me supper tonight as well.”

Gwen looks ready to tell him off, but she bites her tongue, mumbles a polite “yes, sire,” wishes Merlin well, and then turns on her heel and heads back toward the kitchens.

**

“What’s wrong with Merlin?” Morgana demands the following afternoon.

“Nothing,” Arthur says. “He’s fine. He’ll be driving us all nuts by this time next week.”

“You told Gwen he might be dying of a contagious illness. When we went to check on him Gaius lied and said he wasn’t there.”

“Maybe he wasn’t there,” Arthur suggests.

“If you get him killed, I swear, I’ll -“

“If I get him killed?” Arthur cuts in.

“You know he’d do anything for you,” Morgana accuses. “You know it and you take advantage of it and one of these days you’ll get Merlin in trouble for it.”

“He’s sick,” Arthur says. “It’s not like I’ve got him off battling dragons! I gave him the week off to get well and he left the castle. He’ll be back.”

Morgana glares at him and then she bares her teeth and says “He better be” before stalking off in the opposite direction.

Arthur is running through training exercises with his men when he suddenly starts to worry that maybe Merlin really has left Camelot. Reason tells him that Gaius is just doing his job, lying to Gwen and Morgana to keep up the charade, but Arthur sees little reason why Gaius would think that he should bother to lie to them in this instance, would probably figure it was just easier to tell them the truth. It’s not like it would ruin the plan. He leaves the practice field early, storming up to the tower with his sword still in hand. He doesn’t bother to knock at the door, just storms in, shouts for Gaius.

“What’s happened now?” Gaius asks, from a ledge up above Arthur’s head. He’s holding a pile of books in his arms.

“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur demands.

Gaius frowns at him and he seems to be taking an age to respond.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouts, and Gaius is halfway down the stairs when he stops and says, “Merlin is in his room, but I don’t think -“

Arthur doesn’t wait for him to finish, barges into Merlin’s room instead and says, “Did you leave the castle today?”

Merlin’s mouth is hanging open. The bed seems to have become a makeshift table, two chairs around it, Merlin sitting in one of them. He’s surrounded by books and has one open in his lap, that he snaps shut as soon as Arthur enters the room.

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asks, holding the book tight to his chest.

“Morgana said you’d left the castle.”

Merlin frowns at him. “I did leave the castle.”

“And I told Gwen that you had a contagious illness and were in seclusion. Where did you go?”

“You told Gwen what? Why?”

Arthur doesn’t answer, instead reaches for one of the books from the bed. “What is all this?”

Merlin lets him grab the book, but pushes several of the others farther away from Arthur. As though Arthur is suddenly going to become so interested in whatever drivel Merlin’s been reading that he’ll demand to borrow them all and never return them or something.

“Gaius and I have been researching,” Merlin explains, and now Arthur is sure he’s not going to be interested in Merlin’s reading materials.

Arthur looks down at the book he’s holding. “’Magical Beasts of the Realm,’” he reads. “Magical beasts?”

“Magic rats, maybe,” Merlin suggests, and smiles to show that it’s a joke. “You know, you really shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and tosses the book back down on Merlin’s bed. The book hits the bed and then slides off the edge, landing hard on Arthur’s foot.

It hurts and Merlin smirks before he can stop himself and Arthur, in an attempt to hold onto some dignity, kicks the book and storms out of the room.

**

The week passes without incident. Arthur still suspects, a full seven days later, that the plan may have been invented as a way for Merlin to have space away from Arthur.

When Merlin arrives at his chambers precisely a week after he stopped arriving, things are quiet, awkward between them. Merlin keeps managing to be in precisely the wrong place at the wrong time, stumbles away from Arthur, starts apologizing before he’s even done anything wrong.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, finally. His voice is stern, unamused.

Merlin pauses, looks up, his eyes meeting Arthur’s for just a moment before he just as quickly looks away.

“I did a lot of thinking,” Merlin starts, staring at the wall. “And - “

“Me too,” Arthur says, cutting him off. He needs to say this. Needs to get it out before Merlin has a chance to stomp all over him, can sense that it‘s coming. “Listen, Merlin. Things got a little strange before. I know that. I didn’t mean to - I overstepped, and well - I guess, I’m sorry for that.”

“You are?” Merlin asks, turning back from the wall. He looks confused.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I am capable of apologizing, Merlin. You don’t need to act so surprised.”

“No,” Merlin says. If it‘s possible his shoulders slump even further than usual. “No, I know you are. Um, thank you.”

Arthur frowns, looks Merlin up and down and then says, “You’re welcome.”

Merlin doesn’t seem as relieved as Arthur expected.

“What was it that you were planning to say?” Arthur asks.

“Nothing,” Merlin says. “It was - I was going to say the same thing that you said. Not that you overstepped, of course, just that - ”

“I did overstep,” Arthur says. He doesn’t need to sit here and listen to Merlin stumbling over ways to assure him that he’s never wrong.

“Yeah,” Merlin says. “Well, me too.”

Arthur stares down into his breakfast, pokes at it.

“What is this?” he asks. He doesn’t want to talk about them anymore, doesn’t want to examine why the conversation is upsetting to him.

Merlin peers over his shoulder at the blobs of meat sitting in a thick broth.

“I’m not sure,” Merlin admits.

Arthur sighs and lifts the spoon to his mouth.

**

Arthur knows that this is the real test. Merlin will stick by him today. A week without loose brick work or falling beams, and today is the real test.

The morning passes, awkward but without incident.

Merlin is distracted, jumpy, and finally Arthur stops short as they’re walking through the market. Merlin walks into his back and Arthur turns quick, grabs Merlin’s shoulders, pushes him upright.

“Everything’s back to normal, Merlin,” Arthur assures him. “I can feel it. Can’t you?”

“I don‘t know,” Merlin says, and looks away.

Arthur really does feel it though. Maybe this whole thing was him this entire time. He let himself get so preoccupied that he was careless. That must be it. There’s no magic here at all. Just a servant’s overactive imagina -

“Look out,” someone shouts, and Arthur looks up in time to see a piece of scaffolding falling

As Arthur watches, the scaffolding appears to pause in mid air, just long enough for Arthur to stumble backward out of the way. The scaffolding crashes to the ground a few feet from where Arthur now stands. He turns to stare open mouthed at Merlin. Merlin has his hands in the air, as though he’d planned to somehow save Arthur by catching the falling scaffolding. Merlin looks ridiculous and Arthur wants to hug him and shove him for being such an idiot all at once.

“That was lucky,” Arthur says. Merlin is pale, staring at him.

One of Arthur’s men is staring too, but not at Arthur, he’s staring at an ax in the ground among the broken scaffolding, the blade sliced neatly into the dirt road.

**

“It’s me,” Merlin says as soon as they’re in Arthur’s chambers with the door shut. “It didn’t happen when I wasn’t around and now it’s happening again. It’s clearly me. Someone is trying to kill you and make it look like I did it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. How could falling scaffolding possibly be blamed on you?” Arthur asks. He sits down, hoping that his stillness will help Merlin to settle down, stop his pacing. “You didn’t even touch it.”

Merlin leans on the table, leans in toward Arthur and opens his mouth to respond just as some of Arthur’s men throw open the door with a bang and charge into the room.

Merlin springs away from Arthur, straightens his clothing and clears his throat as though they’d just been caught pawing at each other, tongues down each others throats. Arthur glares at Merlin, then clears his throat and turns the glare on his men.

“What is it?” he demands, standing from his chair.

“We’ve come for Merlin,” the larger of the two oafs, Serrick, says. The other steps forward and seizes Merlin’s right arm.

“Why?” Merlin asks.

“Why?” Arthur repeats and moves out from behind the table to step in between Merlin and his man.

“He’s been accused of sorcery, my lord,” Serrick says, looking at a point on the wall somewhere behind Arthur’s head.

“Sorcery,” Arthur repeats. “Merlin?”

“Sorcery,” the guard confirms. “And plotting against your life.”

Arthur turns back to Merlin, who shakes his head, helpless, and says, “Arthur, I -“ before the words seem to die in his throat.

“Why wasn’t I informed of this? Who ordered the arrest?” Arthur demands.

“The king, sire.”

Arthur nods, looks away. Merlin accused of sorcery. There’s only one way this can go.

“Let’s go,” Arthur says. He takes Merlin’s arm and leads him from the room

**

His father barely looks up as Arthur comes into the room, Merlin and the two guards in tow.

“Father,” Arthur starts. “Merlin - “

“He’s been seen practicing magic,” his father interrupts, simply. He has papers spread in front of him and he turns one over now before he continues. “There were several witnesses.”

“When?” Arthur demands.

“This afternoon in the marketplace.”

That was what Merlin had meant this whole time. Someone was trying to make it seem as though Merlin was plotting against Arthur, but not by tripping him or knocking him down or pushing over some scaffolding. Merlin never touched the scaffolding, but he was there, hands raised in the air right after it fell.

“This is insane,” Arthur sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Father, I was there. A scaffolding fell, that was all. Merlin is my servant. He’s been attending to me. If he has been practicing magic I would know about it.”

“Can you prove his innocence?” His father asks, looking up finally from his work. His eyes rest on Merlin for just a moment before coming to Arthur

Arthur opens his mouth, then takes in his father’s expression, raised eyebrows, impatient set of the mouth. Arthur pulls out a chair to sit down at the table. He too glances back at Merlin. Merlin shakes his head slightly but Arthur ignores him, turns to his father and speaks.

“There is magic involved,” Arthur admits. “For the last several weeks I’ve been having - well, accidents. Tripping, things falling, that beam in my chambers.”

“Go on,” his father says.

“We - Gaius, Merlin and I - think it’s an enchantment of some sort. Someone is trying to injure me, humiliate me, and - “

“And Merlin is the one who has put this enchantment in place,” his father concludes.

“No,” Arthur says, slaps his hand down on the table. His father glares. “No, Merlin can hardly polish a boot, let alone enchant a castle to kill a prince.”

“So this is why you’ve been having men patrol the castle, the town?”

“Yes,” Arthur says.

“Without my permission.”

“Yes,” Arthur says again. “We -” He pauses when his father looks up. Better not to let on that he took the advice of a physician and manservant. “I,“ Arthur amended. “I thought it best that I try to get to the bottom of this without disrupting your busy schedule.”

“Nothing that you’ve told me proves that this boy is innocent,” his father concludes.

“Nothing I’ve told you proves that he’s guilty,” Arthur retorts.

“Watch your tongue,” his father snaps. “I have three witnesses who have testified to seeing Merlin topple the scaffolding. They saw an ax pierce the ground precisely where you stood. Take him away.”

The men tighten their grip on Merlin’s arms, turn toward the door. Arthur stands, starts to follow them out. Merlin hasn’t said a word, hasn’t tried to defend himself. No one’s asked him to. No one thinks it would help.

“Wait for me in the corridor,” Arthur says to Serrick. He needs another moment alone with his father.

Serrick nods and Arthur shuts the large doors behind them. He turns back into the room and says, “Father, this is absurd. Have you met Merlin?”

Uther sighs. “What I think of Merlin‘s day to day tomfoolery is irrelevant.”

Arthur crosses the room, leans over the table close to his father.

“Merlin is loyal to me. He’s my friend.”

“He is a sorcerer,” his father insists. “A traitor.”

“That’s not possible,” Arthur says, shakes his head, refuses to believe it.

“You’re young,” his father says. “One day you’ll come to learn that anything is possible. The sorcerer will be executed in two days. I will hear nothing more on the matter.”

“Merlin, father,” Arthur says, can’t stand hearing the king reduce Merlin to ‘the sorcerer’.

“Yes, Arthur,” his father agrees. “Merlin will be executed in two days. Now leave me.”

Arthur opens his mouth, wants to fight harder, doesn’t care if his father threatens to throw him in the stocks, into a cell beside Merlin for insubordination. Merlin isn’t trying to kill him. Merlin isn’t capable -

It isn’t a good argument. Arthur mocks, yes, and it is true that Merlin is an awful manservant, but he is loyal. Sometimes he is clever. Once in a while he surprises Arthur. But none of it matters. It doesn’t matter if Merlin is intelligent enough, capable, of magic. It doesn’t matter because he isn’t a sorcerer. He isn’t trying to hurt Arthur.

And the only way to get Arthur’s father to believe this is to prove it.

**

“Take him down to the dungeon,” Arthur says, trying to hide the defeat in his voice as he rejoins his men in the corridor.

“Arthur,” Merlin starts. He strains against the arms of the men, not hard, just enough so it isn‘t easy for them to hold him.

“You’re to be executed in two days,” Arthur informs him, his words short and hard. Merlin takes the hint, shuts up, stops pulling. Arthur just needs to think about what to do next. They need to get to the bottom of this, fast. He needs to talk to Gaius, talk to Merlin alone.

They’re halfway to the dungeon when Arthur feels something shift, when the castle seems to emit a low growl.

“What’s that?” Serrick asks, and then it happens again.

Stone scrapes against stone, loud and sudden, and then a large block breaks apart, comes loose from the base of the window they‘re passing. Arthur’s men trip over the rubble, fall into Arthur and Merlin and send them sprawling to the floor.

“Watch it,” the other man - Arthur’s been trying for an hour to remember his name - says and pushes at Serrick.

There’s another noise, a shifting rocking sound, and Arthur looks up just in time to see Merlin’s eyes flash. Not with fear or panic. Not with any expression Arthur’s ever seen from Merlin. Merlin’s eyes flash an unnaturally bright shade of yellow, a colour that Arthur has learned is only ever associated with one thing.

Merlin’s hand is out, extended toward a large stone gargoyle that is about to fall on Arthur. Arthur swears and starts to move, then freezes as the gargoyle pauses at an unnatural angle before it returns to an upright position on its pedestal.

“Did you see that?” Serrick asks. Arthur glances back. Both of his men are staring at the statue. Neither of them seem to realize that it was Merlin who had righted it.

Arthur swings back to stare at Merlin. Merlin’s copying the others, looking up at the gargoyle, but he looks back when he feels Arthur watching him.

“What?” Merlin asks.

“You -” Arthur starts and watches Merlin’s eyes go wide as he realizes that Arthur’s seen everything.

Magic.

His father, the witnesses. Everyone was right. Of all the people in the entire kingdom, Merlin is a warlock.

Merlin opens his mouth, surely ready to say something completely stupid, something completely dangerous. The movement pushes Arthur out of his trance and without thinking he reaches out, pushes at Merlin. Merlin understands instantly and scrambles to his feet.

“Hey,” Serrick says, realizing that their prisoner is free and on his feet while they’re still gaping at an unmoving statue. “Hey!”

Go, Arthur urges silently, wills Merlin to just move already.

For once Merlin doesn’t need to be told twice.

He runs.

Part 2: The Fall