Normal Day

by Eliza-Pop

Merlin is soon confronted by a completely unpredicted cheange in circumstances; he becomes able to perform magic openly. That said, it is completely predictable why he looses his job and should fear for his life. "Should" being the operative word. He never really had success conforming with the norm, Why should his death be any different? Reveal!fic?

This could go on forever

It was a normal day. As normal as any other day could be. The city went about its business; the members of the castle went about theirs.

This included the Kings manservant, who went about his business as usual. So after finishing his chores for Gaius before he went to wake up the King to receive a whole new list of chores for the day, including attending to Arthur for every minute of that day- he was to be found going about business in an unusual way.

Normally Merlin was quite wise and sensible, frivolous use of magic would get him caught, which would get him killed. Today he was tired. So he was found using magic in the Armoury to polish every item of armour in there.

This would have been OK had it not been the middle of the day, with the entirety of the guard passing through.

Apparently today was not a normal day then.

Arthurs rage, pain and feelings of betrayal were equalled only by Merlin himself. The death sentence was passed in minutes sealed by the last pained eye contact between King and manservant before the pyre was lit.

Tears streamed down the eyes of many of the citizens, Gaius and the round table could barely watch. King Arthur noticeably walked away, unable to face the pain.

The flames licked around the ankles of a condemned warlock. Golden flames, the prelude to a golden age. Through the heat and the raw power of the fire which now reached his arms, very few noticed the flicker of gold in Merlins eyes; but very soon they noticed the lack of pain on his face, and the way he arranged himself to sit on the pyre comfortably. The King returned to shouts that Merlin would not die, and was confronted with the site of his former manservant cooking food which he had conjured, lounging lazily on the pyre; he looked almost amused that they thought something so small as a burning could kill him.

His laughter began at the fury on his Kings face. The laughter was not mocking, cruel or harsh. No, the laughing was good natured and normal. Almost as it would have been on a normal day, were he not being burned alive. That said, it was only almost normal; he couldn't be expected to sound clear and healthy with a little smoke on the lungs.