Dislaimer: I don't own Merlin

WINTER'S DAWN

by Marlix

The monarch made his way to the deepest reaches of the dungeons, down where the air was always cold and humid. It was oppressive, but it wasn't truly why he found it so hard to breathe. He entered the windowless cell and flashed his torch towards the prone form on the floor.

The prisoner instinctively raised his chained hands in front of his face in a futile attempt to protect his eyes from the harsh light.

"Stand up, traitor"

The king's severe eyes studied the man struggling to stand up, his weak legs protesting against his own weight.

He noticed with mild annoyance that the prisoner was still gagged, explaining his weakness as he could not have eaten or drank anything since his arrest. No doubt the prison guards had concerns about a sorcerer being able to enchant them from his prison cell.

He doesn't even look like his servant anymore, teary-eyed from the light and unshaven. The man he had believed a loyal friend was a fabrication and all that was left of their pretend friendship was a wreck, just like the pathetic form in front of him.

The king unsheathed his dagger, making his captive eyes widen with fear. He brought the blade near the dark-haired man face and cut the gag, which fell on the damp cell floor.

"Arthur," started Merlin, his parched throat making his voice almost unrecognisable.

"Don't you dare speak my name, sorcerer," commanded the monarch severely, his arms crossed.

"Please, my lord" begged Merlin. "If you just let me explain– "

"You stole from the castle. You were seen conspiring with a dragon. You have used sorcery to destroy a priceless gift from Camelot's allies. Do you deny it?"

But there was no denying of what Arthur had seen with his own eyes. When King Borin had gifted Camelot with a precious heirloom from his family as a peace offering, it had been a joyous occasion. But there had been a strangeness in Merlin as Arthur handed him the jewelled amulet, for safekeeping, almost as if he had been shocked, or even burned.

When the amulet had been nowhere to be found a mere two days after King Borin and his delegation had left, an unsuccessful hunt for the thief had been launched, his manservant acting shifty all along. Well, shiftier than usual.

So when Arthur had seen Merlin leave in the middle of the night, he had followed him from a distance. After a while, the forest had made way to a great clearing. The king had stayed under the cover of the trees, pondering on how to keep following his servant without being seen, when the man unexpectedly stopped.

He could still not believe what he had witnessed next. Merlin's guttural yelling. The great dragon's arrival shortly afterwards. The same dragon that Merlin had declared dead.

So Merlin had protected it, then, he realised in shock.

Remembering his last confrontation with the beast, he had stayed afar, despite his desire to confront Merlin. Too far to understand what was being discussed, he bid his time. He could do nothing but observe, eyes widening, as Merlin got the amulet out from his bag and used a powerful spell to destroy it.

Arthur had thought that nothing could be as horribly hurtful as Morgana's betrayal or his uncle's treachery. How wrong he had been. Merlin's duplicity was a final blow to his battered trust.

He had been proven too trusting time and again. He swore to himself it was the last time.

"Do you deny it?" he furiously inquired again.

"I don't, Sire. But–"

"You have just admitted your guilt."

"I only did it to protect Camelot."

"No more lies. You claim that you, a sorcerer, would help Camelot when all your kind have ever done was try to see it on its knees."

"That's not the truth. There can be such good to magic," professed the sorcerer, his voice soft as he looked straight into his king's eyes. "You were just never able so see it." It was obvious he believed those falsehoods.

That was it, then. Magic had corrupted his servant, twisting him into this man who would betray him, lie to him.

"Magic corrupts everything and everyone it touches. It is a plague upon this land."

"You sound just like your father." Merlin tone seemed strangely disappointed.

"You dare bring up my father, who was killed by the same evil you defend. I have been lax in pursuing his fight against sorcery. I won't allow it to happen again."

"True evil lies in the heart of men, not in magic" protested Merlin, matter-of-factly. Even in his current predicament, Merlin managed to appear in control of the situation.

The infuriated royal grasped him by the throat, shoving him mercilessly against the hard stones. Let the traitor know who was in control here.

"Who are you working for? Did you spy for Morgana?" thundered the fuming monarch. "Or was it another kingdom who desires insider information in order to invade Camelot?"

Despite the strong hand's tight grip around his neck, Merlin kept his bound hands down, simply staring at Arthur with watering eyes. He struggled to give an answer to the accusations, but a pathetic wheezing sound escaping his abused throat. Arthur had to remind himself that Merlin was not the victim here. After a second, he released his grasp.

"I am no spy, Sire. I would die before betraying you. You have to believe me." His voice was soft, so sincere. He did not sound like a traitor. He sounded like Merlin, whose pleading eyes were looking straight in his own.

A hard punch sent the sorcerer sprawling on the cold floor in clink of chains. Blood poured freely, either from a split lip, a bitten tongue or a broken nose. Arthur could not afford to let himself care when Camelot's safety was at stake.

The man slumped on the ground holding his face was nothing but a skilled liar. He knew exactly what to say to get Arthur to listen to him.

He could not waver in his convictions. He could not be tricked again. There has never been such thing as a good sorcerer.

"I don't have to do anything you say, you filthy sorcerer," bellowed Arthur in a blinding rage. "And I certainly won't believe a single word coming out of your mouth."

"I trusted you," the king's voice broke at this "and you betrayed me. You have deceived me, all these years. I have been made a fool of for the last time."

"You were never a fool to me, Sire," whispered the sorcerer, wiping the blood from his face.

"You have used sorcery and are therefore beyond redemption. You will die for your crimes."

"Not crimes. I have made mistakes, but please, Sire, I have only ever tried to help you!" the dark-haired man insisted.

"Your poisonous words can no longer reach my ears."

"I'm sorry… I've only ever used it for you…" muttered the captive, his voice full of sorrow. "I'm so sorry."

"I have signed the execution order and the pyre has been built," declared the monarch, righteous zeal burning in his eyes. "You will be burned at the stake tomorrow."

Merlin eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but closed it again, bowing his head in resignation.

The furious king turned his back and stormed out of the cell, slamming the metal door on his way out. Once more lost in complete darkness, the condemned man curled into a ball, shoulders shaking as despair took him over.