Let me stand by you (the honour is mine)
Title: Let me stand by you (the honour is mine) 1/8
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, Gwaine/Merlin (one-sided)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4872 / 31k
Beta: Thanks to aeris444
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the recognisable characters. They all belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I only borrowed them.
Summary: As the King is travelling with his men, their group suffer an attack and Merlin is wounded. He has two options: to die or to reveal his magic. His choice to live leads to his banishment. The decision isn’t an easy one for Arthur and as he takes in the void left by the absence his manservant, he’s more than a little lost and conflicted. Yet he has no time to dwell on his feelings: bandits are roaming the Kindgdom and they could all be part of a plan to bring Camelot down.
Chapter 1
"This, Merlin, is absolutely delicious," Gwaine said licking his spoon.
"Thanks," the warlock answered and stood up to gather Arthur's and the knight's plates.
"It's a pity there isn't more, though."
"If we listened to you, Gwaine," Arthur noted, "we'd have to take two wagons only to transport the food."
"I don't see what's wrong with that."
"Let me think… Oh right, we're going to visit a village plundered by bandits. I'm sure they'd love to see their knights and King gorge themselves. Except if we gave them some of the food. Which isn't part of your plan, is it?"
Gwaine pouted and Leon chuckled. The mindless chatter was a way to forget about the difficulties to come. Merlin could feel how grim Arthur was despite the smiles. He could see it in his slumped shoulders and his slightly clenched fists. He knew Arthur too well not to notice his smiles were faked and his jokes forced. The King surely wished he could do more for these people than just assess the damages, reassure them and promise they would do everything possible to hunt down those bandits. That wouldn't bring back the lives and possessions taken away. He couldn't even bring food as the winter was cold and hard and they barely had enough for Camelot's needs.
Merlin put the plates aside and sat next to Arthur, close to the fire. No one would blame him if he waited for the morning to do the dishes. He'd dreamt of this fire all day long and was surely not the only one to have done so. Nothing could take him away from the pleasant warmth coming from the flames. He might make some mulled wine later, if he had the courage to move again. Arthur loved mulled wine. It always brought a smile on his lips during their winter hunting parties and Merlin was desperate to see a true smile on his King's face, even a small one. Anything but the mask he was wearing and that didn't fit with the gloom in his eyes. Yes, Merlin would definitely do that.
Except not. Because as soon as he took that decision, Percival held out his arm, gesturing for the others to be silent. They all froze, listening carefully.
"What did you hear?" Arthur asked after a few seconds of total silence.
"I'm not sure. I-"
Just as he was going to add something, some dead wood cracked and they all heard footsteps. Quietly, the King and his knights stood up, taking out their swords. Merlin hopped on his feet. Then he remembered he had a sword too, the one Arthur insisted he carried every time they left the castle. The warlock wondered why it seemed so important now when it had never been before but he had obliged. He tended to forget about it, though, because he wasn't really good at handling it. That and the fact that he didn’t need it, of course. He walked a few careful steps to where the blade lay, next to his bag, and took it.
The knights stood around him in a circle, their back to the flames, in a classic on-guard position. After a quick glance behind him, Arthur shifted slightly to be in front of his servant. Merlin squinted over his shoulder but couldn't see a thing outside the ring of light given off by the fire. He had to admit the weight of the sword felt nice in his hand. At least he still could defend himself if magic was too risky. For a long, wavering moment, his and the knights' breathing were the only sounds he heard. A familiar knot formed in his stomach. Then there was a shout and a group of dirty, ragged men fell on them.
Soon the forest echoed with shouts and the clanging of the blades. The knights seemed outnumbered but it was hard to be sure. Merlin stood carefully out of the way. He was becoming good at it. As he surveyed the fight, his gaze came regularly back to Arthur. The King struggled a bit when two enemies attacked him at once but he was quickly helped by Leon. The smell of blood rose in the air as more and more bandits fell.
The warlock didn’t remain unnoticed much longer. Soon, a small, bulky man ran towards him, raising a battle-axe over his head. He never got close enough to harm Merlin. A yard away from him, he stopped dead on his track, as though he’d hit an invisible wall. The shock sent him bouncing back and he fell, knocking his head on the ground. Once he was sure the man couldn’t hurt him anymore, Merlin turned his eyes back to Arthur. A few corpses lay around him. The bandits were no match for a well-trained knight like him yet the warlock couldn’t help watching. It took so little for things to go wrong. A foot slipping on the mud. A blow forcing you to drop your guard for a heartbeat. Or worrying for your King instead of keeping yourself safe.
Arthur’s eyes widened when he looked at him. “Behind you!” The shout cut through the noises of the battle. Merlin spun on his heels, just in time to see a massive man raise his sword, his face contorted in a grimace of rage. For a heartbeat, Merlin was paralysed. All he could think was how big the man was, how muscular. How close. The warlock had instinctively held up his sword when he’d turned around but he found himself not knowing what to do with it. His spells eluded him. He screamed as the edge of the blade dug deep in his chest. Some of his ribs cracked under the blow. He fell back and landed hard on the ground. The man stood over him, raising his sword again to finish him off. Then Merlin heard Arthur shouting his name. The bandit lost his head before he could strike again. His body fell to the ground, a pool of blood forming around his neck. Merlin’s relief was brief, quickly disappearing as the pain radiated in his flesh. Arthur gave him a rapid, worried glance then surveyed the battle. The warlock tried to stand up but only managed to rise a few inches before falling back. His chest was throbbing with every heartbeat. He could feel the blood soaking his tunic. His head started spinning.
Arthur stood by his side until the end of the battle. Then, as soon as their last enemy had run away, he kneeled over his friend, his eyes filled with worry. His face turned pale as he examined the wound. Grasping a blanket lying close, he pressed it on the bleeding flesh. “Leon, how far is the nearest village?”
The knight kneeled beside the King and had a look at the wound.
“We’re at the heart of the forest, Sire. I’d say we’d need half a day to get out of it. Then a half more to reach an inhabited place.”
“That’s as far as Camelot. If we leave now-“
“Sire,” Leon interrupted with a soft but pained voice. “He wouldn’t make it on horseback. And with a stretcher, the journey would take even longer.”
There was a short silence while Arthur took in what his knight’s words meant. “But there has to be a way!” he shouted without turning his eyes away from Merlin.
Leon dropped his gaze as did the other knights.
“No! No!” Arthur kept shouting. “It can’t be!”
“Sire,” Leon tried again, resting a hand on the King’s shoulder. “There’s… There’s nothing we can do.”
Silence filled the place. Realisation hit Merlin as the pain grew in Arthur’s eyes, chasing away all worry or hope, calming his haste. He would die here, in the middle of the forest, from a blow he was too slow to parry. It was funny how he’d always imagined that, had he to die early, it would be by protecting Arthur. It seemed his death was going to be less glorious.
Arthur’s eyes filled with the tears he was unable to hold back as the minutes passed by. Leon silently walked away to join the other knights. The King didn’t seem to notice. Merlin couldn’t stand the anguish in his eyes. “I thought you said no man was worth your tears,” he whispered.
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. “I-I was wrong.” His voice broke. Merlin’s heart shattered to pieces.
“I’m sorry.”
The King shook his head, not trusting his voice. Merlin tried to move his arm to touch him but yelped in pain. Arthur’s eyes flung open. They searched his servant face who tried to reassure him. His smile turned into a grimace. Then Arthur’s hand found his and squeezed it.
They remained motionless and silent for a while, hands and gaze locked. They barely noticed the knights walking away to give them some privacy. There was so much Merlin wanted to say. How grateful he was for the time he had shared with Arthur. How much he wanted him to be happy and to take care of himself. What a great King he was. A hundred things spun in his head. Too many for Merlin to choose. There was one thought, however, that stood out from the rest. The only one that really mattered. The one he didn’t dare to say out of fear to see Arthur’s memories of him tarnished.
At last, Arthur broke the silence. “Merlin, I… I wanted to say… you…” His voice broke again.
Merlin couldn’t take it. He couldn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t leave Arthur behind. He had failed his destiny, failed his King. Who would protect him now? Then the warlcok realised the pain must have altered his thinking because, if he was too weak to heal himself, there was still a way to get quickly back to Camelot. He didn’t like the revelation it meant but what did he have to lose? “I know a way,” he whispered.
Arthur froze. “What? Merlin, you-“
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Take me to the nearest clearing.”
Arthur frowned. “Why?”
Merlin was beginning to think it was a really bad idea but he couldn’t turn back. Not now. “Please… You’ll see.”
For a heartbeat, Merlin thought the King was going to give him a witty retort doubting his sanity. Instead he just nodded and turned to the knights. “Did anyone see a clearing earlier?”
There was a short silence while the men shifted awkwardly. They didn’t dare question the King, though. Percival was the first to answer. “I think I remember some place not far away.”
“Good. We’ll follow you.”
The knights lightened torches and Arthur carefully lifted Merlin after telling him to hold the piece of cloth on the wound. He walked as fast as he could without hurting his servant. Merlin was suffering too much to be afraid of what was going to happen. Pain was taking all the place in his mind, capturing every thought. And deep inside, there was this small hope to survive if his plan worked.
“Here we are. What do we do now?” Arthur asked once they reached a small meadow.
“I’m sorry.”
“What-“
Merlin cut him off and called Kilgharrah in a weak voice. He felt Arthur startle.
“Merlin? Sorry for what? What was that? What are we doing here?”
Merlin didn’t answer. Arthur would understand soon enough. The warlock wished he could explain, tell Arthur what he was and why he’d lied but he was too weak. That wasn’t the way he’d imagined revealing his magic to him.
Arthur gasped as Kilgharrah landed a few yards away. For a moment, the warlock thought he was going to drop him. “Merlin… You… You are…” the King muttered. He took a deep breath. His grip on the warlock tightened. “You said I killed it.”
The dragon laughed, a guttural humour-less sound. “You? Kill me? With that butter knife of yours? It’s been a while since I heard something so funny.”
“It… It can speak,” Arthur stammered.
Merlin ignored both of them. “Take us back to Camelot.”
“I’m not a horse, young warlock.”
“He’s dying, you stupid beast!” Gwaine shouted.
Merlin managed a weak smile despite the pain. He could always count on Gwaine. “I’m ordering you, Kilgharrah. Take us back to Camelot.”
“All right, then, Dragonlord,” the beast said, bowing neck. “To Camelot it is. But only for the King and you. The others will have to go on foot.”
“Sire!” Leon shouted. “You can’t do that! That beast killed half of Camelot! What if-“
“Merlin’s dying!” Gwaine cut off.
“And he’s a sorcerer!”
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. Leon sounded ready to kill him. He wondered if Arthur would let him.
“He’s right, Gwaine. Sorcerers are dangerous.”
“Percy! Not you too!”
“The King can’t go alone with a dragon and a warlock!”
“Are you all scared of a dying friend?” Gwaine spat. “I’ll go with him if nobody will.”
“I’m not scared!” Arthur shouted. Yet Merlin could hear he was. His heart broke again.
“Please…”
The warlock could barely hear his own voice. The pain was so strong he knew it wouldn’t be long before he passed out. Arthur looked down at him. His eyes were wet again, filled with anguish and bewilderment.
“I won’t wait all night,” Kilgarrah said. “If none of you wants to move, I’ll go.”
“No! “ Arthur yelled. “I’ll come.”
“Sire!”
“I can’t… Let him die.”
The warlock didn’t hear the pain in Arthur’s voice. He was too dizzy. All that matter was that he wouldn’t die here, killed by men who had been his friends. Arthur would take him home and protect him.
Kilgharrah crouched low so that they could get on him. Merlin didn’t have any force left and he let Arthur move him around. Soon, they were flying above the forest. The warlock was so dizzy he couldn’t feel the cold wind biting his skin. There was nothing but the pain.
He must have fallen in and out of consciousness because when Kilgharrah dropped them a few yards away from the castle, he remembered only flashes from the journey. The pain was excruciating. The last thing the warlock noticed before passing out was the tears on the King’s lips.
***
Merlin woke up in his bed. His chest and left shoulder were bandaged and the pain had receded a little. There was someone sitting on a chair beside him. It took a moment for Merlin’s eyes to focus and recognise Gaius. The physician smiled when he noticed he was awake. “Merlin! I’m glad to see you’re back with us.”
Something was off, the warlock realised as he slowly came back to full consciousness. Gaius’ smile was forced. His voice shook. “How bad is the wound?” the warlock inquired in a hoarse voice.
“Bad. I did my best but it will need time to heal. However, that’s not my biggest concern at the moment.”
Just when Merlin was going to ask what he meant, the door opened and Arthur stormed in. “Leave us alone, Gaius,“ he said coldly.
“Sire, please, he’s seriously wounded. He needs rest.”
“I said: out. Now.”
Understanding that arguing would bring nothing, Gaius bowed his neck and walked out. Arthur stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed on his chest, staring at his servant. “You summoned a dragon and asked him for a ride.”
Merlin looked away, unable to hold his gaze. There was no point in denying so he remained silent. His chest was still throbbing, each small move causing a deep jolt of pain. And he was so tired, even though he’d just woken up. It wasn’t the time for such a conversation. He was too much in pain to bear the crushing in his chest brought by the anger radiating from Arthur. He wished he could pass out again.
“How?” Arthur shouted.
"I'm a Dragonlord," Merlin whispered, still staring at the wall.
"That's impossible. The last Dragonlord is dead."
"He was my father. I…" The warlock throat tightened and was unable to continue. Even though time had passed, it was hard for him to think about Balinor, taken away so soon after they met. "I became a Dragonlord when he passed away."
“He called you a warlock. Is that what you are too?”
Merlin winced at the harshness of Arthur's voice. He'd often imagined that moment, revealing the truth to Arthur, but in his mind it never turned out as bad as he knew this would. Only there was no choice. “Yes,” he answered, bracing himself.
“You betrayed me!”
Arthur’s face was red from anger. For a moment, Merlin feared he would kill him right there with his bare hands. Then he noticed his clenched jaw and the wetness in his eyes. Arthur wasn’t only angry, he was hurt.
“Let me explain,” Merlin tried warily.
“I don’t want to hear another word.”
“Arthur… Please.”
Merlin tried to sit up but pain went flashing in his chest and he let out a yelp. That was when he lost it. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling but it wasn’t enough. He’d always hoped Arthur wasn’t like his father, that he knew Merlin wouldn’t do him any harm, that he would at least listen to him and believe him. He’d hoped his trust was stronger than his fear of magic. But it was too deeply rooted in him, seeded from the very day of his birth. And he was too deeply wounded to listen to him.
“Let me explain you something. Once, just once I thought that magic could be good and that day my father died. Magic killed both my parents and I nearly died because of it more times that I care to remember. You were patient, you gained admittance into the very heart of Camelot and you won my trust just to be right there, at right moment, at the right place, to do whatever you planned to do but I won’t let you.”
“What-“
“Shut up!” Arthur shouted.
His voice broke and his face contorted in a grimace of pain. His cheeks were covered in tears now. Merlin’s heart fell to pieces even before he heard the words through his gritted teeth. “You’ll sleep in the dungeons tonight and won’t see the sunlight until the day of your execution.”
Arthur walked out, slamming the door behind him.
“Sire,” Merlin heard Gaius shaking voice say. “You do realise that your cells are cold and damp and that Merlin won’t make it through the night if you-“
“Peace, Gaius!”
The front door closed and the warlock curled on the bed, sobbing. He wished he’d died in the woods. He wouldn’t have heard those words from the mouth of the man he’d sworn to protect. The man he would give his life for. The man, as he recently admitted to himself, he wished could be more than a friend, knowing that wasn’t remotely possible. He wished to be dead. The only good thing was: it wouldn’t be long.
Somehow though, it was. He was dozing when voices in the next room woke him up with a jolt. He yelped. The effect of Gaius’ medicines had worn off. The walk to the dungeons promised to be painful. He closed his eyes and braced himself for what was going to come. Yet when his opened his eyes again at the sound of the opening door, it was Gaius who entered the room. The physician closed the door behind him and put a vial on the small table beside the bed before sitting down on a chair.
“It appears my concerns have been heard and you won’t be taken to the dungeons. Instead two men will guard the door until you’re well enough to be put in a cell.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Why would Arthur be concerned for my health if he’s going to execute me?”
Gaius looked away but didn’t answer. The warlock had hoped he would say it was a good sign, that maybe the King wasn’t going to kill him in the end, but as the words didn’t come, Merlin realised there could be another, less cheering solution. “He wants to be sure he can execute me.”
The physician sighed. “Your trial will be held in two weeks, as the King has to go back to that village you were going to visit. Things can change until then.”
Merlin didn’t believe it. Over the years, he'd seen how merciful Arthur could be but this was different. He was wounded, betrayed in the worst possible way. Since his childhood, he'd been conditioned into thinking that sorcerers were his enemies. There was no way he was going to forgive Merlin. And the warlock could tell that Gaius wasn't optimistic either.
"Drink this," the physician finally said, pointing to the vial. "It'll help you sleep. I'll try to reason Arthur once his anger is appeased."
"Don't."
"He needs to know what you've done for him."
"And what will happen to you? You can't tell him you knew."
"Merlin..."
"Please, Gaius. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."
"I'd do a lot of things for you but you can’t ask me not to talk to him."
The physician stood up, putting an end to the conversation. "Rest now," he added before heading to the door.
"Gaius?" Merlin called.
"Yes?"
"Be careful."
The physician hesitated for a second, then smiled. "I will."
***
Gwaine asking for an audience with him was something unusual enough to arouse Arthur's curiosity. Besides, it would provide a pleasant distraction after a morning of talks about grain inventory. He welcomed the knight with a cheerful smile.
"Sir Gwaine. What's the matter you wish to discuss with me?"
"I'm here because of tomorrow's trial, Sire."
Arthur's smile vanished. "What about that?"
"I'd like to ask you to be merciful, Sire."
The King clenched his jaw. So long for the pleasant distraction. “I’m going to be very merciful and ignore that comment.”
“Please, Arthur. Merlin is a friend. He would never harm you and you know it. I'm sure if you listened to him, he could prove it to you."
“Did Gaius send you?”
“No, why?”
“He used the same words yesterday. It's funny how everyone seems to think I need their opinion on the subject. However, as I told Gaius, as the King of Camelot I cannot allow myself to be sentimental.”
"This has less to do with sentimentality than rationality and wisdom."
Arthur’s fingers curled into fists. He wasn’t strict when it came to deference. He liked his men to speak their minds and help him put together the best strategy. But Gwaine was going too far. “How dare you?”
Gwaine instinctively took a step back. The King closed his eyes and tried to regain his temper. His voice was softer when he continued. “He’s a sorcerer, Gwaine. I know you like him but you must keep in mind that everything you know about him is a lie."
"And how do you know that? Did you talk to him? Did he confess any evil plan? Has everything he did for you just disappeared because you learned he's a sorcerer?"
"He betrayed me!" Arthur exclaimed, louder than he wanted.
"So you're going to execute him because he lied to you."
"No. I’m going to execute him because he’s a sorcerer and magic is banned in Camelot."
“You’re such a hypocrite! You would have done anything to save him! If a sorcerer had appeared out of nowhere, you would have begged him to heal him.”
That was too much. Arthur stood up and stormed to the knight, stopping a few inches from him.
“You’d do well to remember your place, Gwaine,” he said through his gritted teeth.
“And you, you forget Merlin’s a friend. And a very loyal one.”
Arthur’s nails bit into his palms. He didn't want to hear those words. There had been days when he'd used them to describe Merlin but those days were gone.
"How can you still call him that after he's lied to you for so long?"
"Well, in light of the recent events, I think he had a very good reason to lie to us."
The King's stare turned colder but that didn't stop Gwaine.
"Please, Arthur. You know he's not a threat."
"I'd never imagined Morgana could be one either and yet..."
"But-"
“Enough! The laws exist for a reason. Camelot nearly collapsed because of magic. And I’ve never met one sorcerer who didn’t plot to bring me or my father down. I won’t endanger the Kingdom’s safety because one of my knights thinks that one is an exception. Magic is a threat. And you should be very careful because you seem so eager to defend him that I could consider you as a threat, too."
Gwaine tensed. "That's how it is, then? You're just going to kill everyone who doesn't agree with you? I thought you were better than that."
The knight gave his King a fierce, contemptuous stare and spun on his heels to walk out. As the door closed, Arthur slammed his fist on the table and let out a shout. Gwaine didn’t understand. He couldn’t. He didn’t know the pressure that came along with a crown. The perpetual fear that someone could be plotting against him. The reluctance to trust anyone. The dread of taking the wrong decision and seeing his people suffer because of him. He hadn’t had his confidence shattered by the woman he loved, the one he wanted to make queen in spite of her social rank, who cheated on him. Arthur had thought he had forgotten her at last but the pain had come back with Merlin’s betrayal. It seemed he was helpless at choosing the right people to trust. And yet he wasn’t as confident as he had tried to appear in front of Gwaine.
His experience told him Merlin was a threat. Sorcerers became corrupted by the power that magic gave them and they could only seek more, with no second thoughts about the way they achieved their domination. That was what his father had taught him and he had seen it with his own eyes so many times. When, just once, he’d been a fool enough to hope magic could be good, Uther had died. He had sworn himself he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
But it was Merlin! Quite useless as a servant but a man with a gentle soul. He had proved himself to be a loyal friend a countless times. And yet… Yet he had lied. If Merlin was capable of hiding such a secret, then what else could he hide? Arthur wasn’t even sure he knew him anymore. What if becoming his servant and gaining his trust was all part of a plan? A very risky plan that demanded patience and rigour to shatter Arthur and the whole Kingdom. Was that the reason Merlin had come to Camelot? To avenge the sorcerers Uther had killed? Or did he seek power? The thoughts seemed so odd when he projected them on Merlin. Soft, cheerful, caring Merlin.
Arthur sighed and crossed the room to stand by the window. There was hardly a choice. The laws of Camelot were clear: magic was banned and sorcerers must be executed. He couldn’t allow himself to become sentimental. It had been easy for his father. Uther would rather have an innocent beheaded than risking to see Camelot collapse. Executing everyone suspected of sorcery was the safest solution. Arthur wasn’t like him. He valued life too much. He didn’t want to become the King that everyone feared. He wanted to be just. But how could he be if he started doubting the laws?
Through the window, Arthur looked at the courtyard covered in snow and imagined standing down there, overlooking the crowd. He imagined Merlin kneeled in front of him and the executioner’s sword above his neck. He saw his servant’s pleading eyes. He remembered that night in the woods. The pain crushing his chest once he realised Merlin wouldn’t survive. Gwaine was right, he would have done anything to save him back then. The terror of losing Merlin had overcome his fear of magic. Could Arthur really stand there in the courtyard and watch Merlin die? He hadn’t even had the gut to throw him in the dungeons because of his wound. Could he live knowing he had chosen to execute his closest friend? Was that how he would reward Merlin for being willing to sacrifice his life to save Arthur’s? He would never forget that day when Merlin had offered to take his place as a victim for Cailleach. How simple and logical it had seemed for him. The determination he had seen in his eyes. He wasn’t lying that day.
When finally Arthur walked back to his chair and resumed his work, chaos was still raging in his mind. Yet he was certain about two things: he didn’t trust Merlin anymore but no matter how much the betrayal hurt or how he feared what else he servant might hide, he couldn’t execute him.
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, Gwaine/Merlin (one-sided)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4872 / 31k
Beta: Thanks to aeris444
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any of the recognisable characters. They all belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I only borrowed them.
Summary: As the King is travelling with his men, their group suffer an attack and Merlin is wounded. He has two options: to die or to reveal his magic. His choice to live leads to his banishment. The decision isn’t an easy one for Arthur and as he takes in the void left by the absence his manservant, he’s more than a little lost and conflicted. Yet he has no time to dwell on his feelings: bandits are roaming the Kindgdom and they could all be part of a plan to bring Camelot down.
Chapter 1
"This, Merlin, is absolutely delicious," Gwaine said licking his spoon.
"Thanks," the warlock answered and stood up to gather Arthur's and the knight's plates.
"It's a pity there isn't more, though."
"If we listened to you, Gwaine," Arthur noted, "we'd have to take two wagons only to transport the food."
"I don't see what's wrong with that."
"Let me think… Oh right, we're going to visit a village plundered by bandits. I'm sure they'd love to see their knights and King gorge themselves. Except if we gave them some of the food. Which isn't part of your plan, is it?"
Gwaine pouted and Leon chuckled. The mindless chatter was a way to forget about the difficulties to come. Merlin could feel how grim Arthur was despite the smiles. He could see it in his slumped shoulders and his slightly clenched fists. He knew Arthur too well not to notice his smiles were faked and his jokes forced. The King surely wished he could do more for these people than just assess the damages, reassure them and promise they would do everything possible to hunt down those bandits. That wouldn't bring back the lives and possessions taken away. He couldn't even bring food as the winter was cold and hard and they barely had enough for Camelot's needs.
Merlin put the plates aside and sat next to Arthur, close to the fire. No one would blame him if he waited for the morning to do the dishes. He'd dreamt of this fire all day long and was surely not the only one to have done so. Nothing could take him away from the pleasant warmth coming from the flames. He might make some mulled wine later, if he had the courage to move again. Arthur loved mulled wine. It always brought a smile on his lips during their winter hunting parties and Merlin was desperate to see a true smile on his King's face, even a small one. Anything but the mask he was wearing and that didn't fit with the gloom in his eyes. Yes, Merlin would definitely do that.
Except not. Because as soon as he took that decision, Percival held out his arm, gesturing for the others to be silent. They all froze, listening carefully.
"What did you hear?" Arthur asked after a few seconds of total silence.
"I'm not sure. I-"
Just as he was going to add something, some dead wood cracked and they all heard footsteps. Quietly, the King and his knights stood up, taking out their swords. Merlin hopped on his feet. Then he remembered he had a sword too, the one Arthur insisted he carried every time they left the castle. The warlock wondered why it seemed so important now when it had never been before but he had obliged. He tended to forget about it, though, because he wasn't really good at handling it. That and the fact that he didn’t need it, of course. He walked a few careful steps to where the blade lay, next to his bag, and took it.
The knights stood around him in a circle, their back to the flames, in a classic on-guard position. After a quick glance behind him, Arthur shifted slightly to be in front of his servant. Merlin squinted over his shoulder but couldn't see a thing outside the ring of light given off by the fire. He had to admit the weight of the sword felt nice in his hand. At least he still could defend himself if magic was too risky. For a long, wavering moment, his and the knights' breathing were the only sounds he heard. A familiar knot formed in his stomach. Then there was a shout and a group of dirty, ragged men fell on them.
Soon the forest echoed with shouts and the clanging of the blades. The knights seemed outnumbered but it was hard to be sure. Merlin stood carefully out of the way. He was becoming good at it. As he surveyed the fight, his gaze came regularly back to Arthur. The King struggled a bit when two enemies attacked him at once but he was quickly helped by Leon. The smell of blood rose in the air as more and more bandits fell.
The warlock didn’t remain unnoticed much longer. Soon, a small, bulky man ran towards him, raising a battle-axe over his head. He never got close enough to harm Merlin. A yard away from him, he stopped dead on his track, as though he’d hit an invisible wall. The shock sent him bouncing back and he fell, knocking his head on the ground. Once he was sure the man couldn’t hurt him anymore, Merlin turned his eyes back to Arthur. A few corpses lay around him. The bandits were no match for a well-trained knight like him yet the warlock couldn’t help watching. It took so little for things to go wrong. A foot slipping on the mud. A blow forcing you to drop your guard for a heartbeat. Or worrying for your King instead of keeping yourself safe.
Arthur’s eyes widened when he looked at him. “Behind you!” The shout cut through the noises of the battle. Merlin spun on his heels, just in time to see a massive man raise his sword, his face contorted in a grimace of rage. For a heartbeat, Merlin was paralysed. All he could think was how big the man was, how muscular. How close. The warlock had instinctively held up his sword when he’d turned around but he found himself not knowing what to do with it. His spells eluded him. He screamed as the edge of the blade dug deep in his chest. Some of his ribs cracked under the blow. He fell back and landed hard on the ground. The man stood over him, raising his sword again to finish him off. Then Merlin heard Arthur shouting his name. The bandit lost his head before he could strike again. His body fell to the ground, a pool of blood forming around his neck. Merlin’s relief was brief, quickly disappearing as the pain radiated in his flesh. Arthur gave him a rapid, worried glance then surveyed the battle. The warlock tried to stand up but only managed to rise a few inches before falling back. His chest was throbbing with every heartbeat. He could feel the blood soaking his tunic. His head started spinning.
Arthur stood by his side until the end of the battle. Then, as soon as their last enemy had run away, he kneeled over his friend, his eyes filled with worry. His face turned pale as he examined the wound. Grasping a blanket lying close, he pressed it on the bleeding flesh. “Leon, how far is the nearest village?”
The knight kneeled beside the King and had a look at the wound.
“We’re at the heart of the forest, Sire. I’d say we’d need half a day to get out of it. Then a half more to reach an inhabited place.”
“That’s as far as Camelot. If we leave now-“
“Sire,” Leon interrupted with a soft but pained voice. “He wouldn’t make it on horseback. And with a stretcher, the journey would take even longer.”
There was a short silence while Arthur took in what his knight’s words meant. “But there has to be a way!” he shouted without turning his eyes away from Merlin.
Leon dropped his gaze as did the other knights.
“No! No!” Arthur kept shouting. “It can’t be!”
“Sire,” Leon tried again, resting a hand on the King’s shoulder. “There’s… There’s nothing we can do.”
Silence filled the place. Realisation hit Merlin as the pain grew in Arthur’s eyes, chasing away all worry or hope, calming his haste. He would die here, in the middle of the forest, from a blow he was too slow to parry. It was funny how he’d always imagined that, had he to die early, it would be by protecting Arthur. It seemed his death was going to be less glorious.
Arthur’s eyes filled with the tears he was unable to hold back as the minutes passed by. Leon silently walked away to join the other knights. The King didn’t seem to notice. Merlin couldn’t stand the anguish in his eyes. “I thought you said no man was worth your tears,” he whispered.
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. “I-I was wrong.” His voice broke. Merlin’s heart shattered to pieces.
“I’m sorry.”
The King shook his head, not trusting his voice. Merlin tried to move his arm to touch him but yelped in pain. Arthur’s eyes flung open. They searched his servant face who tried to reassure him. His smile turned into a grimace. Then Arthur’s hand found his and squeezed it.
They remained motionless and silent for a while, hands and gaze locked. They barely noticed the knights walking away to give them some privacy. There was so much Merlin wanted to say. How grateful he was for the time he had shared with Arthur. How much he wanted him to be happy and to take care of himself. What a great King he was. A hundred things spun in his head. Too many for Merlin to choose. There was one thought, however, that stood out from the rest. The only one that really mattered. The one he didn’t dare to say out of fear to see Arthur’s memories of him tarnished.
At last, Arthur broke the silence. “Merlin, I… I wanted to say… you…” His voice broke again.
Merlin couldn’t take it. He couldn’t say goodbye. He couldn’t leave Arthur behind. He had failed his destiny, failed his King. Who would protect him now? Then the warlcok realised the pain must have altered his thinking because, if he was too weak to heal himself, there was still a way to get quickly back to Camelot. He didn’t like the revelation it meant but what did he have to lose? “I know a way,” he whispered.
Arthur froze. “What? Merlin, you-“
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Take me to the nearest clearing.”
Arthur frowned. “Why?”
Merlin was beginning to think it was a really bad idea but he couldn’t turn back. Not now. “Please… You’ll see.”
For a heartbeat, Merlin thought the King was going to give him a witty retort doubting his sanity. Instead he just nodded and turned to the knights. “Did anyone see a clearing earlier?”
There was a short silence while the men shifted awkwardly. They didn’t dare question the King, though. Percival was the first to answer. “I think I remember some place not far away.”
“Good. We’ll follow you.”
The knights lightened torches and Arthur carefully lifted Merlin after telling him to hold the piece of cloth on the wound. He walked as fast as he could without hurting his servant. Merlin was suffering too much to be afraid of what was going to happen. Pain was taking all the place in his mind, capturing every thought. And deep inside, there was this small hope to survive if his plan worked.
“Here we are. What do we do now?” Arthur asked once they reached a small meadow.
“I’m sorry.”
“What-“
Merlin cut him off and called Kilgharrah in a weak voice. He felt Arthur startle.
“Merlin? Sorry for what? What was that? What are we doing here?”
Merlin didn’t answer. Arthur would understand soon enough. The warlock wished he could explain, tell Arthur what he was and why he’d lied but he was too weak. That wasn’t the way he’d imagined revealing his magic to him.
Arthur gasped as Kilgharrah landed a few yards away. For a moment, the warlock thought he was going to drop him. “Merlin… You… You are…” the King muttered. He took a deep breath. His grip on the warlock tightened. “You said I killed it.”
The dragon laughed, a guttural humour-less sound. “You? Kill me? With that butter knife of yours? It’s been a while since I heard something so funny.”
“It… It can speak,” Arthur stammered.
Merlin ignored both of them. “Take us back to Camelot.”
“I’m not a horse, young warlock.”
“He’s dying, you stupid beast!” Gwaine shouted.
Merlin managed a weak smile despite the pain. He could always count on Gwaine. “I’m ordering you, Kilgharrah. Take us back to Camelot.”
“All right, then, Dragonlord,” the beast said, bowing neck. “To Camelot it is. But only for the King and you. The others will have to go on foot.”
“Sire!” Leon shouted. “You can’t do that! That beast killed half of Camelot! What if-“
“Merlin’s dying!” Gwaine cut off.
“And he’s a sorcerer!”
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. Leon sounded ready to kill him. He wondered if Arthur would let him.
“He’s right, Gwaine. Sorcerers are dangerous.”
“Percy! Not you too!”
“The King can’t go alone with a dragon and a warlock!”
“Are you all scared of a dying friend?” Gwaine spat. “I’ll go with him if nobody will.”
“I’m not scared!” Arthur shouted. Yet Merlin could hear he was. His heart broke again.
“Please…”
The warlock could barely hear his own voice. The pain was so strong he knew it wouldn’t be long before he passed out. Arthur looked down at him. His eyes were wet again, filled with anguish and bewilderment.
“I won’t wait all night,” Kilgarrah said. “If none of you wants to move, I’ll go.”
“No! “ Arthur yelled. “I’ll come.”
“Sire!”
“I can’t… Let him die.”
The warlock didn’t hear the pain in Arthur’s voice. He was too dizzy. All that matter was that he wouldn’t die here, killed by men who had been his friends. Arthur would take him home and protect him.
Kilgharrah crouched low so that they could get on him. Merlin didn’t have any force left and he let Arthur move him around. Soon, they were flying above the forest. The warlock was so dizzy he couldn’t feel the cold wind biting his skin. There was nothing but the pain.
He must have fallen in and out of consciousness because when Kilgharrah dropped them a few yards away from the castle, he remembered only flashes from the journey. The pain was excruciating. The last thing the warlock noticed before passing out was the tears on the King’s lips.
***
Merlin woke up in his bed. His chest and left shoulder were bandaged and the pain had receded a little. There was someone sitting on a chair beside him. It took a moment for Merlin’s eyes to focus and recognise Gaius. The physician smiled when he noticed he was awake. “Merlin! I’m glad to see you’re back with us.”
Something was off, the warlock realised as he slowly came back to full consciousness. Gaius’ smile was forced. His voice shook. “How bad is the wound?” the warlock inquired in a hoarse voice.
“Bad. I did my best but it will need time to heal. However, that’s not my biggest concern at the moment.”
Just when Merlin was going to ask what he meant, the door opened and Arthur stormed in. “Leave us alone, Gaius,“ he said coldly.
“Sire, please, he’s seriously wounded. He needs rest.”
“I said: out. Now.”
Understanding that arguing would bring nothing, Gaius bowed his neck and walked out. Arthur stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed on his chest, staring at his servant. “You summoned a dragon and asked him for a ride.”
Merlin looked away, unable to hold his gaze. There was no point in denying so he remained silent. His chest was still throbbing, each small move causing a deep jolt of pain. And he was so tired, even though he’d just woken up. It wasn’t the time for such a conversation. He was too much in pain to bear the crushing in his chest brought by the anger radiating from Arthur. He wished he could pass out again.
“How?” Arthur shouted.
"I'm a Dragonlord," Merlin whispered, still staring at the wall.
"That's impossible. The last Dragonlord is dead."
"He was my father. I…" The warlock throat tightened and was unable to continue. Even though time had passed, it was hard for him to think about Balinor, taken away so soon after they met. "I became a Dragonlord when he passed away."
“He called you a warlock. Is that what you are too?”
Merlin winced at the harshness of Arthur's voice. He'd often imagined that moment, revealing the truth to Arthur, but in his mind it never turned out as bad as he knew this would. Only there was no choice. “Yes,” he answered, bracing himself.
“You betrayed me!”
Arthur’s face was red from anger. For a moment, Merlin feared he would kill him right there with his bare hands. Then he noticed his clenched jaw and the wetness in his eyes. Arthur wasn’t only angry, he was hurt.
“Let me explain,” Merlin tried warily.
“I don’t want to hear another word.”
“Arthur… Please.”
Merlin tried to sit up but pain went flashing in his chest and he let out a yelp. That was when he lost it. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears from falling but it wasn’t enough. He’d always hoped Arthur wasn’t like his father, that he knew Merlin wouldn’t do him any harm, that he would at least listen to him and believe him. He’d hoped his trust was stronger than his fear of magic. But it was too deeply rooted in him, seeded from the very day of his birth. And he was too deeply wounded to listen to him.
“Let me explain you something. Once, just once I thought that magic could be good and that day my father died. Magic killed both my parents and I nearly died because of it more times that I care to remember. You were patient, you gained admittance into the very heart of Camelot and you won my trust just to be right there, at right moment, at the right place, to do whatever you planned to do but I won’t let you.”
“What-“
“Shut up!” Arthur shouted.
His voice broke and his face contorted in a grimace of pain. His cheeks were covered in tears now. Merlin’s heart fell to pieces even before he heard the words through his gritted teeth. “You’ll sleep in the dungeons tonight and won’t see the sunlight until the day of your execution.”
Arthur walked out, slamming the door behind him.
“Sire,” Merlin heard Gaius shaking voice say. “You do realise that your cells are cold and damp and that Merlin won’t make it through the night if you-“
“Peace, Gaius!”
The front door closed and the warlock curled on the bed, sobbing. He wished he’d died in the woods. He wouldn’t have heard those words from the mouth of the man he’d sworn to protect. The man he would give his life for. The man, as he recently admitted to himself, he wished could be more than a friend, knowing that wasn’t remotely possible. He wished to be dead. The only good thing was: it wouldn’t be long.
Somehow though, it was. He was dozing when voices in the next room woke him up with a jolt. He yelped. The effect of Gaius’ medicines had worn off. The walk to the dungeons promised to be painful. He closed his eyes and braced himself for what was going to come. Yet when his opened his eyes again at the sound of the opening door, it was Gaius who entered the room. The physician closed the door behind him and put a vial on the small table beside the bed before sitting down on a chair.
“It appears my concerns have been heard and you won’t be taken to the dungeons. Instead two men will guard the door until you’re well enough to be put in a cell.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Why would Arthur be concerned for my health if he’s going to execute me?”
Gaius looked away but didn’t answer. The warlock had hoped he would say it was a good sign, that maybe the King wasn’t going to kill him in the end, but as the words didn’t come, Merlin realised there could be another, less cheering solution. “He wants to be sure he can execute me.”
The physician sighed. “Your trial will be held in two weeks, as the King has to go back to that village you were going to visit. Things can change until then.”
Merlin didn’t believe it. Over the years, he'd seen how merciful Arthur could be but this was different. He was wounded, betrayed in the worst possible way. Since his childhood, he'd been conditioned into thinking that sorcerers were his enemies. There was no way he was going to forgive Merlin. And the warlock could tell that Gaius wasn't optimistic either.
"Drink this," the physician finally said, pointing to the vial. "It'll help you sleep. I'll try to reason Arthur once his anger is appeased."
"Don't."
"He needs to know what you've done for him."
"And what will happen to you? You can't tell him you knew."
"Merlin..."
"Please, Gaius. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."
"I'd do a lot of things for you but you can’t ask me not to talk to him."
The physician stood up, putting an end to the conversation. "Rest now," he added before heading to the door.
"Gaius?" Merlin called.
"Yes?"
"Be careful."
The physician hesitated for a second, then smiled. "I will."
***
Gwaine asking for an audience with him was something unusual enough to arouse Arthur's curiosity. Besides, it would provide a pleasant distraction after a morning of talks about grain inventory. He welcomed the knight with a cheerful smile.
"Sir Gwaine. What's the matter you wish to discuss with me?"
"I'm here because of tomorrow's trial, Sire."
Arthur's smile vanished. "What about that?"
"I'd like to ask you to be merciful, Sire."
The King clenched his jaw. So long for the pleasant distraction. “I’m going to be very merciful and ignore that comment.”
“Please, Arthur. Merlin is a friend. He would never harm you and you know it. I'm sure if you listened to him, he could prove it to you."
“Did Gaius send you?”
“No, why?”
“He used the same words yesterday. It's funny how everyone seems to think I need their opinion on the subject. However, as I told Gaius, as the King of Camelot I cannot allow myself to be sentimental.”
"This has less to do with sentimentality than rationality and wisdom."
Arthur’s fingers curled into fists. He wasn’t strict when it came to deference. He liked his men to speak their minds and help him put together the best strategy. But Gwaine was going too far. “How dare you?”
Gwaine instinctively took a step back. The King closed his eyes and tried to regain his temper. His voice was softer when he continued. “He’s a sorcerer, Gwaine. I know you like him but you must keep in mind that everything you know about him is a lie."
"And how do you know that? Did you talk to him? Did he confess any evil plan? Has everything he did for you just disappeared because you learned he's a sorcerer?"
"He betrayed me!" Arthur exclaimed, louder than he wanted.
"So you're going to execute him because he lied to you."
"No. I’m going to execute him because he’s a sorcerer and magic is banned in Camelot."
“You’re such a hypocrite! You would have done anything to save him! If a sorcerer had appeared out of nowhere, you would have begged him to heal him.”
That was too much. Arthur stood up and stormed to the knight, stopping a few inches from him.
“You’d do well to remember your place, Gwaine,” he said through his gritted teeth.
“And you, you forget Merlin’s a friend. And a very loyal one.”
Arthur’s nails bit into his palms. He didn't want to hear those words. There had been days when he'd used them to describe Merlin but those days were gone.
"How can you still call him that after he's lied to you for so long?"
"Well, in light of the recent events, I think he had a very good reason to lie to us."
The King's stare turned colder but that didn't stop Gwaine.
"Please, Arthur. You know he's not a threat."
"I'd never imagined Morgana could be one either and yet..."
"But-"
“Enough! The laws exist for a reason. Camelot nearly collapsed because of magic. And I’ve never met one sorcerer who didn’t plot to bring me or my father down. I won’t endanger the Kingdom’s safety because one of my knights thinks that one is an exception. Magic is a threat. And you should be very careful because you seem so eager to defend him that I could consider you as a threat, too."
Gwaine tensed. "That's how it is, then? You're just going to kill everyone who doesn't agree with you? I thought you were better than that."
The knight gave his King a fierce, contemptuous stare and spun on his heels to walk out. As the door closed, Arthur slammed his fist on the table and let out a shout. Gwaine didn’t understand. He couldn’t. He didn’t know the pressure that came along with a crown. The perpetual fear that someone could be plotting against him. The reluctance to trust anyone. The dread of taking the wrong decision and seeing his people suffer because of him. He hadn’t had his confidence shattered by the woman he loved, the one he wanted to make queen in spite of her social rank, who cheated on him. Arthur had thought he had forgotten her at last but the pain had come back with Merlin’s betrayal. It seemed he was helpless at choosing the right people to trust. And yet he wasn’t as confident as he had tried to appear in front of Gwaine.
His experience told him Merlin was a threat. Sorcerers became corrupted by the power that magic gave them and they could only seek more, with no second thoughts about the way they achieved their domination. That was what his father had taught him and he had seen it with his own eyes so many times. When, just once, he’d been a fool enough to hope magic could be good, Uther had died. He had sworn himself he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
But it was Merlin! Quite useless as a servant but a man with a gentle soul. He had proved himself to be a loyal friend a countless times. And yet… Yet he had lied. If Merlin was capable of hiding such a secret, then what else could he hide? Arthur wasn’t even sure he knew him anymore. What if becoming his servant and gaining his trust was all part of a plan? A very risky plan that demanded patience and rigour to shatter Arthur and the whole Kingdom. Was that the reason Merlin had come to Camelot? To avenge the sorcerers Uther had killed? Or did he seek power? The thoughts seemed so odd when he projected them on Merlin. Soft, cheerful, caring Merlin.
Arthur sighed and crossed the room to stand by the window. There was hardly a choice. The laws of Camelot were clear: magic was banned and sorcerers must be executed. He couldn’t allow himself to become sentimental. It had been easy for his father. Uther would rather have an innocent beheaded than risking to see Camelot collapse. Executing everyone suspected of sorcery was the safest solution. Arthur wasn’t like him. He valued life too much. He didn’t want to become the King that everyone feared. He wanted to be just. But how could he be if he started doubting the laws?
Through the window, Arthur looked at the courtyard covered in snow and imagined standing down there, overlooking the crowd. He imagined Merlin kneeled in front of him and the executioner’s sword above his neck. He saw his servant’s pleading eyes. He remembered that night in the woods. The pain crushing his chest once he realised Merlin wouldn’t survive. Gwaine was right, he would have done anything to save him back then. The terror of losing Merlin had overcome his fear of magic. Could Arthur really stand there in the courtyard and watch Merlin die? He hadn’t even had the gut to throw him in the dungeons because of his wound. Could he live knowing he had chosen to execute his closest friend? Was that how he would reward Merlin for being willing to sacrifice his life to save Arthur’s? He would never forget that day when Merlin had offered to take his place as a victim for Cailleach. How simple and logical it had seemed for him. The determination he had seen in his eyes. He wasn’t lying that day.
When finally Arthur walked back to his chair and resumed his work, chaos was still raging in his mind. Yet he was certain about two things: he didn’t trust Merlin anymore but no matter how much the betrayal hurt or how he feared what else he servant might hide, he couldn’t execute him.