For both Merlin and Arthur, secrets are revealed with devastating consequences.
Warning: This story will involve death, explicit violence and Nazi allegories.
Chapter 1: 2010
"Come on," she whispered, soft elegant fingers brushed the golden tendrils of hair off his forehead, "You've got to feel it too. There's something more than just friendship between us. It goes deeper than that. Can we try it at least?"
Arthur was sixteen and had been in a perpetual state of horniness for about two years. He didn't need persuading. Soft warm curves pressed up against his body in a way he was sure would get him into deep trouble. A boy of his standing wasn't supposed to go around sowing wild oats, just in case, but this was different. Sappy as it was, he felt something different between them too. She was different to any other court lady. He had no idea why, but it was true.
"I'm there already if you are," he whispered his hands down her grey satin dress, resting on her warm hips. "Whatever you want."
The fingers had stopped playing with his fringe and trailed down his face. Hands held his jaw, the intent was non-verbal, but clear as a day. The fingers coaxed him forward to the first press against blush crimson lips.
From there it was a lot less gentle and a lot less sophisticated. She was hardly his first kiss, the title of Crown Prince of England brought with it a certain level of innate 'game', but this kiss was definitely the most intense. Hands pulled behind his neck, craning his head as close as possible so that the inelegant movement of lips against lips was heightened by the most amazing pressure. He gripped her hips through the tight dress, carefully not to damage or bruise, but encouraging their bodies to plaster together.
"Too fucking vertical." She grunted, rough against his parted mouth.
"Does your etiquette instructor know that his finest pupil talks like that?"
"Shut the fuck up," she offered, with no malice, only a coarseness that sent a delicious shiver down his spine as he pulled, or was pushed, backwards towards the sofa.
She hitched up her dress, and straddled his lap. Arthur drowning in the candlelight that flickered in her deep green eyes. The contact between them was minimal, but the stuff of every teenage boy's dreams. She hovered over him, before pressing short hard kisses to his lips.
"I thought you said that we were too vertical." He offered as his only warning before cradling her head and back to flip her down onto the seat.
"That's better," she grinned easy, hitching one knee up to his hip, settling him between her legs. There was too much stimulation for his hormone addled brain to think of anything except bending down to haphazardly press lips once more.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Arthurs head snapped up immediately as he was bodily thrown off the sofa. "Father…" he tried to begin, barely registering the bruising sure to form. It can't have been that bad to be fool about a bit. She was a lady of good standing, hardly some unsuitable person. A relationship with her might not be strategic, but it was surely acceptable and…
The curtains were on fire. When had that happened? He was frozen.
"Get out," Uther roared,
"Yeah," He said, realising from where Uther's panic had stemmed, "Come on, we need to get help." He reached out a hand to her, still laying dishevelled on the sofa, eyes wide, shaking, barely breathing.
"Just you." Uther said, pointing to the door. "Take him to my office." Arthur barely had time to register the words before his was removed bodily by Uther's personal KRT.
The door slammed, and he could hear the crazed words being screamed desperately behind the heavy oak. Tight chested shaking sobs broke every plea.
"No, please! I'll do anything! Don't take me there! Please god, no! Arthur, help me!"
Arthur was helpless to do anything but watch the door move further and further away. He heard less and less with every inch that separated them. Unable to block out the sounds or make sense of them he was left with the begging ringing in his ears.
The door to Uther's office slammed shut, creating an eerie echo of silence. After a few infinite minutes the door opened once more behind him. A silent gesture from Uther dismissed the KRT and Arthur was left alone with his father for the first time since last Christmas.
"What did we do wrong?" Arthur began terse and angry, "She ticks every box for the perfect princess consort and I actually like her. So what the hell did she do wrong? Because if she doesn't live up you your standards then I'm going to die alone."
"Arthur," Uther interrupted wearily, "Arthur I…"
"No!" Arthur exclaimed, "What gave you the right to act like some kind of dad who takes an interest in my love life, I barely even see you and now…"
"Morgana's your sister, Arthur."
The silence was so immediate that Arthur could hear his own heart in his chest.
"You're lying. That's not possible, Mum died. She's younger than me."
"Ygraine is not her mother. She's your half-sister. I hadn't wanted to tell you like this. I was going to sit you down together when you were eighteen and have a proper talk. But I hadn't imagined…"
Bile was burning its way up Arthur's Throat, but he wouldn't be sick. He refused to treat himself or his sister so poorly by doing something so indignant. He bit it back with even breaths.
"She's ten months younger than me." Arthur's voice full of revelation. "Ten months almost exactly. What did mum's funeral seem like a particularly good time to be getting off with Lady Lafay? She was married by that point." Accusations and realisations tumbled forth, one after another. "You were already having an affair with her weren't you? Whilst mum was still pregnant. You said you loved her. You were cheating on her with some married woman. I bet you were ecstatic when Lady Lafay got divorced."
"Arthur, your relationship between your mother and I was always complex, but do not doubt that I loved her dearly."
"And what of Morgana? She's the shameful illegitimate child you would hide away as a spare just in case I get offed or what? Why did you keep us around each other and not tell us? Where is she now? Have you told her about this?" Arthur voice was louder and more broken with every word.
"She has been taken somewhere for her own safety, the media will have a field day if you speak of this to anyone. You may not see her again. Make your peace with it."
Uther left, leaving Arthur with a million shattered thoughts swirling around his head, and the one unasked question; how had he not noticed the fire?
o0o0o
"Lovely to see you again, Hunith." A voice came from the door. Merlin recognised the voice, but couldn't see who it came from.
Merlin couldn't see a damn thing. It was good that he was little for his age, because the panel in the floor was not going to big enough to hide him soon. He wanted to use the magic to see. He wanted to grope beyond the pitch dark and try to feel who it was, but that was stupid, dangerous even.
"And you, as always." His mother's voice soothed him in his protective prison, "It's always nice to see a friendly face."
"Talking of," the other woman replied chirpily, "There seem to be some new men in town."
New men, the KRT. They'd come this far west finally, terribly.
"I thought you might want to come along to the bake sale, I know you haven't had time recently, but it's always nice to make new friends."
New friends, not friendly, they're clearing out anyone with magic.
"Old man Greg has been saying quite horrible things about your boy, Merlin. It's so terrible of him to bring up such painful memories when everyone in the village knows of his tragic passing."
Greg had sold him out, he had less than an hour to escape.
"When's the bake sale." Hunith asked politely as possible.
There was a pause, the swishing of curtains, "Fairly soon, but you'll definitely have enough time to rustle something up I'm sure."
"Thank you so much for dropping by, I'll definitely bring something." Hunith sounded chirpy but Merlin wasn't fooled.
As soon as the front door closed, there was a rush of movement from inside the house, curtains were drawn and things were flung open. A nine rhythmic knocks on the cupboard door and Merlin knew to shimmy out.
"Practice run?" Merlin whispered softly as possible, but he could see the tears pouring in tracks down his mother's face. This was real.
"I love you so much. Do you hear me? I love you above everything."
"I love you too." There wasn't time for the clinging hug he wanted to give.
He had the emergency bag packed, a few essential items had been thrown in behind it. His hacked phone and enough currency to get to anywhere in England and he would survive for now, but a fake passport had been almost impossible to come by. They didn't have enough money anywhere to get Merlin out of the country.
Any photos of Merlin beyond the age of seven were being hidden away from view to be burned no doubt. Death certificates had been forged a long time ago, when it was obvious beyond a shadow of a doubt that magic use was not a phase Merlin would ever grow out of.
When the first purge had happened, it was only those high profile magic users who were taken. The Last Great Dragonlord was certainly high profile. They didn't know of his family, nor did he tell them, but over time Uther and the KRT became more and more paranoid, 'rehabilitating' innocent people for smaller and smaller uses of magic.
They knew this time would come. They had planned for it. Merlin didn't know whether his father was alive or not, but he had never come back. He refused force his mother to share his father's fate.
The whole house smelled of magic, Merlin couldn't help it; his own magic was a beacon to anyone who was able to spot it. He only wished he had had the training he needed to hide, but there was no-one left to train young warlocks. Except perhaps one.
The bleach drenched blanket, grey with age, would hide the smell from the dogs for long enough to get away from the main village. If he could escape to the forest then he could camp out for long enough to plan a safe route to Camelot. It was the most dangerous place he could possibly be, but also the only place where he could learn what he needed to do to stay hidden.
"Gaius." Hunith repeated the name, ensuring that Merlin was certain of it. Certain of his only chance at survival out in the open world, away from the controlled environment of home.
His mother was already scrubbing the tables of his fingerprints, but he knew it wouldn't help. Everything in here was infused with a layer of magic from years and years of stupid mistakes.
"I love you." He whispered and then ran out the back door as fast as he could.
He had barely a moment to lose, as one quick glance behind him as he crested the hill and he could see half a dozen armed men at the front door. His one advantage was that he knew this place like the back of his hand. He couldn't outrun them, at only eleven his wild magic couldn't fight them. The only thing he could do was hide.
"We know that you're hiding someone!" he could hear them declare, "It is a terrorist act to conceal a magic abuser from the authorities." His mother's voice couldn't be heard, but he knew that they could search that house high and low, and not a single trace of him would be found. Except for his stupid magic. There was nothing he hated more. There was nothing he needed more in that moment.
"Please," he whispered to it, whatever it was "Don't let them find me, don't let them hurt her, keep us safe."
Run. The magic whispered in turn.
So he ran.
o0o0o
A/N: So after my last angst ridden WIP it's time for a light fluffy one-shot right? Wrong. So, so wrong.