This is a very short story I wrote when I had nothing else to do.
It's meant to show how there is bad in all of us, even in those we think are the 'good guys'. Everyone has it in them to do something terrible, if the circumstances force it on them.
"Meeeerliiiiiiiin..."
Merlin swung around, the fire of his torch streaking through the air. He looked about himself in the tunnel, but saw no-one.
"Meeerliiin..."
This time Merlin swung around even more wildly, accidentally smacking the torch against the tunnel wall and causing it to splutter, stinging into his skin with burning sparks. He drew in breath quickly, causing an echo to run around the stone cavern around him.
"Show yourself!" he could hear the panic in his voice, even though he tried to hide it. He backed up against the wall; cornered, but at least this way nobody could sneak up on him.
"Come, come Merlin. I expected a bit more bravery out of you; not this fleeing and cowering! You disappoint me."
Merlin saw him then. Arthur stepped out of the shadows, his armour glinting and his sword blade quivering with anticipation. A twisted grin was spread across his face.
"You?" Merlin's voice shook with devastation. He had expected them to come after him. But not Arthur...
"I found you, Merlin. You see? Magic isn't as powerful as you think, is it now?"
"I'm warning you," Merlin growled, angry now.
"Oh yeah? What are you going to do? Smite me with your magic?" Arthur laughed maliciously and swung his sword at Merlin.
-ooo-
A day previously, Merlin was standing in a dim corner of Uther's annual winter solstice feast.
His job was to pick up any food Uther's rowdy guests chucked onto the floor, and once or twice the flying bits of foodstuff had smacking him in the eye. It wasn't the best of jobs. He grinned at Gwen as she passed him carrying a tray loaded with dead pheasants. She rolled her eyes back and smiled before moving onwards towards the table.
Merlin bent down and picked up his mop, and took another tour around the vast table, mopping the floor. There was one guest, a pale, sickly, dark-haired individual who Merlin wanted to keep an eye on. He glowered down at his food and took no part in any conversation, only looking up to cast glances at Uther every now and then.
Merlin's mind wandered back to Gaius's words.
"I want you to keep an eye on him," he had said to him while mixing a potion for Morgana, whose nightmares were hounding her again. "I think he may be an assassin from a long time in the past, when Uther was still rounding up the magic folk. He may have a score to settle."
"I'll keep an eye open," Merlin had said, and sure enough, that's what he was doing right now.
Suddenly, the man jumped onto the table, drew a dagger from his cloak, and flung it towards Uther. Merlin was shocked; this man wasn't sane. To attack like that he must have a death wish. Without a moment's hesitation, Merlin threw his arm in front of him, fingers splayed, and screamed;
"Subsisto chalybs!" his eyes flashed gold and the dagger glowed with green fire and stopped in its tracks. For a moment there was absolute silence. Then Uther stood up with such violence his throne was knocked backyards, and he screamed with pure hatred, "Kill them both!"
Merlin backed away. "No!" he yelled. "I stopped the dagger! I saved your life!"
"I saw what you did!" Screeched Uther. "You used magic – and there is no good magic! You're one of them!"
Giaus rushed forwards from his seat in the corner of the throne room. "My lord, I beg you, consider-" Uther drew his sword from his belt and, without a second thought, whipped it across Giaus's chest. Blood streamed and Giaus fell with a thud; a look of shock on his aged features.
"Let no consorter of magic be spared. They have made their choice!" he looked once again at Merlin, and he saw that there was no mercy on Uther's face; a terrible insanity had gripped his features, his face shook with rage. He turned and ran from the hall.
Merlin headed straight for the dungeons and into the secret tunnels beneath the castle.
There was nothing left for his now; he couldn't talk to Gwen or Morgana, or they would be put to death. His only hope was escape. He ran down the tunnels, searching for a place to hide.
-ooo-
Merlin rolled out of the way just in time; Arthur's sword met cold stone in a hair raising crash.
"Arthur! Think about what you're doing!" Merlin screamed as he dodged another vicious swing of Arthur's sword. "We were friends! I'm not evil, you know that! You stupid bastard, you know that!"
"All I know, Merlin, is that you are an enemy of my father. That makes you an enemy of me!" With another swing of deadly accuracy, Arthur brought down his sword with strength. Merlin's eyes flashed, and Arthur's sword was thrown from his hand. Arthur uttered a scream as the sword took with it two of his fingers. He clutched the torn flesh to his chest.
Merlin brought his hand to his mouth in shock; he hadn't meant to do that. He turned once more and ran, wishing to avoid confrontation. He didn't know what he might do.
Merlin raced down the tunnels, bouncing off the walls in his haste. He dropped his torch and ran on in the darkness. A sudden, sickening crunch brought him to a halt; he had smacked his head on a low part of the ceiling. Blood and bone fragments fell to the floor. He put his hand to his face and felt that the bone had crushed his eye, leaving it half hanging out the socket. He only just stopped himself screaming in pain, when Arthur ran around the corner.
He was covered in blood and sweat, panting like an animal, his mutated hand hanging at his side, his sword grasped in his just as able other hand. His face was screwed into a mask of loathing.
"I mightn't have been sure before, but now I am, Merlin. Your actions have proved my father right. Users of magic are scum."
"Leave me be, Arthur," Merlin whispered in a voice so quiet it was barely audible. "I don't want to hurt you. I've never wanted to hurt you. But if I must, I will defend myself."
"Then defend yourself!" Arthur bellowed, preparing his stance for another attack.
"So be it." Merlin said with sinister calm. He raised his arm.
"Carnifico!"
Arthur shrieked in pain as red hot fire seemed to course through his veins. He felt his legs buckle, and he clutched his head, moaning, sobbing. "Stop! Stop, please!"
Merlin brought his hand down and the pain stopped. "Punctum!"
Arthur screamed again as invisible swords seemed to slash him from all directions with relentless ferocity. He thrashed around, trying to stop it; he sank to the ground, writhing. Merlin stopped.
Silence. Then Merlin approached Arthur and regarded his broken body, blood and torn flesh scattered around him. He could see a weak pulse beating in his neck, his eyes hazy with pain.
"You have made a powerful enemy for Camelot. Now it is certain that magic shall never live alongside you in peace. You will regret this day. Dearly."
Merlin raised his hand once more. "Vigoratus." The cuts and scars all over Arthur's body began to seal themselves up, leaving a clean canvas of skin once again. "This is the last act of mercy I will ever perform. You've made sure of that."
Arthur lay, panting, and watched Merlin's mutated, grave face turn away and disappear into the shadows. He lay there, listening to the footsteps die away. He lay there for a long time after that before he could bring himself to his hands and knees, and staggered over to where his dagger lay. Grasping it in his deformed hand, looking at the severed bone and congealing blood in contrast to the gold dagger hilt, he had never felt more alive.
"Magic," he spat, "Shall not live in peace alongside us. It shall not live at all. You will regret letting me live, Merlin. You can be sure of that."
And with that, he began the long, hard struggle back to the castle.