Hollars 4
In the Fire
They took Merlin in the dark. He had jerked awake in time enough to see the wide, terrified eyes of the men. They'd clamped their hands over his mouth as they'd struggled to pull his flailing limbs from the bed. It took four of them to flip him over and tie his hands. Maybe it was the fear that made them shove him forward, corralling him through Gaius door, the elder man's protests falling on deaf ears. Maybe it was the terror of magic that made them shake even as they prodded him towards the pyre.
Uther was waiting, his hands clasped behind his back. Merlin was surprised to see Leon and Gwaine, their Camelot colors stripped, their hands tied. Their mouths lacked restraint, however, and they took full advantage to cry out their disagreements. Uther did not flinch from their accusations nor their impassioned insults. Merlin struggled anew, but found the magic that had come always as an instinct, seemed to have fled away in the adrenaline fueled terror. Even as he was tied to the stake, a cloth tied so tightly to his mouth that it cut into his lips, he could not think of a single thing. He'd searched, head turning desperately, for the flash of blond hair.
"Arthur! Arthur! You have to come! Wake up!" Gwen hollered down the hallway, her voice echoing in the emptiness of the stone walls. There is the clatter and screech of knights chasing her up the stairs to his room, the chainmail scratching against the wall, the metal of their swords clinking loudly. They were the clumsiest, the untrained, the eager to please. Arthur would find it difficult to forgive their duties, their loyalty, to the current King of Camelot.
He was already up and shimmying on his boots in a sleep-dazed hurry, glancing around to find the woman who hadn't made it to his chambers yet. By the time she'd burst through, he was shrugging on his coat and heading to the door, more alert as worry coursed through his veins.
"What on earth is going on Guinevere?"
"It's Merlin. They've captured Merlin." She didn't even pause to catch her breath, only clutched his arm and begun dragging him down the hall by his sleepshirt.
"Gwen, calm down. No one's going to hurt Merlin." His voice was easier and calmer than he felt, but he couldn't help the quickening pace. Gwen didn't lead him the way they'd come, but instead took a servant's corridor. It was several twists and turns before she stops and looks at him with pale cheeks and thinned lips and eyes that are filled with tears.
"Uther's got him, Arthur. Uther's going to kill him."
And just like that, Arthur feels the blood leave him. He stumbles, before surging forward and flying down the stairway. He's not even waiting for Gwen beside him, though he can hear her cries in the narrow space.
He knew he'd get caught.
He knew he'd be found.
And Uther hadn't even bothered trying to discuss this with his son. There was no hope, unless he got there now.
God, Merlin.
"I, Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot, accuse you, Merlin Emrys of Ealdor, manservant of Arthur Pendragon, of sorcery. Do you have a defense?" Uther stood like a stone at the front of the small gathering. There were only his knights, the ones who had no loyalty to Arthur, who'd not built friendships and trust with Merlin, who stood protectively around him, their hands keeping Gwaine and Leon forcibly down.
Merlin couldn't speak through the cloth on his mouth, but his frantic shaking of his head did nothing. Uther spoke again, dark eyes glinting in the orange light of the torches.
"You are accused on the word of a handmaiden, who caught you cleaning the Prince's rooms with magic."
Merlin struggled against his binding. He remembered, three days ago, the clatter of a tray falling before he'd dropped the bedcovers. Gaius would probably tell him off for it, if he managed to survive this. As he eyed, the torches, the men inching closer as Uther spoke, Merlin knew the chances of that were slipping away.
His magic wouldn't answer his call, his fear too loud and too violent to allow the thoughts to form properly. He searched the crowd again for Arthur's blue eyes and sloppy hair, unsure if he wanted him there or wanted him far away. It wasn't until his gaze caught Arthur's form breaking through the castle walls, sprinting faster than he ever had before, that Merlin realized he didn't want Arthur here.
Not to see him, not like this. His body went slack, his eyes stuck on the sweat soaked man who skidded to a halt beside his father.
"Father, don't do this. I'm sure the charges against Merlin are baseless. Don't you think if he had magic, I would know?" Arthur's words were breathless, his chest heaving as he tried to force the words out. "I will vouch for Merlin's innocence."
"He was caught red handed, Arthur. He doesn't even deny it." Uther barked out, his arms shifting for the first time since all of this began. "He's had you enchanted. It certainly accounts for your behavior since he served you."
Arthur responded immediately, freezing Merlin's blood with shock. "I don't care if he's a sorcerer, he's my friend. You can't kill him." It was quiet, broken, a sound that said he knew he'd lost. Merlin shook his head again, struggling against the ties at his wrists.
Despite Arthur's best intentions, Merlin had seen the look that crossed the king's face. The crazed, unbridled anger. Merlin's sorcery was confirmed for the simple fact of Arthur's pleading.
It was Uther holding Arthur back when the knights came forward with their torches. It was Arthur's cries, loud and insistent and raw, that tore at Merlin as he gave up his struggle on the pyre. It was Arthur's insistent gaze through the flames that kept him silent as long as he could, staring steadily back with as little pain as possible. It was the scream of "Merlin!", the last thing Merlin ever heard, that forced his end in the fire.