Ring Of Gold
By BlueHot Chronicles
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of BlueHot Chronicles. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: I just had to write this, cuz… urgh! Anyway, in the rest of this A.N./rant, there are a few expletives but the story is free of them.
'I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die, Arthur.
I've only ever used my magick for you, Arthur.
I'll gladly die for you because you're so much more important than me, Arthur.
I'd rather die than be banished from your side, Arthur.
You're going to burn me at the stake... Okay, Arthur.
Here… I'll pour the oil on myself, Arthur.
I'll just stand right here and allow myself to be burned alive, and forgive you with my dying breath, Arthur.'
I've had enough of bitch!Merlin or pussy!Merlin… whichever best describes that type of Merlin-fanfiction some authors love to write. There is nothing wrong with a nice and loyal Merlin, I like those stories -it's the type of person Merlin is- but I hate the Arthur's-whipped-bitch-Merlin. Unfortunately, I felt like reading some BAMF!Merlin fanfics and found a bunch of them with that extra annoying theme. Writing this made me feel better, and so I might even be able to continue reading willing-servant-will-do-anything-for-Arthur-Merlin stories at a later date.
Summary:
Merlin got caught using magick. Arthur and the Knights don't take it too well. Dark!Merlin. AU. One-Shot.
~~~(*)~~(*)~~~
Chapter One
"I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die."
The words sprang to mind as Merlin stared fearfully at the tip of the finely crafted sword pointed at his face. Shoved roughly to his knees, with his hands bound tightly behind him, the irony of the situation, when he thought of those words he'd spoken years ago, was almost amusing. Almost.
Despite a rocky start, a bond had formed between Merlin and Prince Arthur. The warlock had always known it was never an unbreakable bond, regardless of what Gaius told him, but he had wanted to believe -just for a while- that nothing, not even the knowledge of his magick would break it.
Oh, what a fool he'd been.
'In the wrong hands, this sword could do great evil. It must be wielded by Arthur and him alone.'
Now here it was, Excalibur, wielded by Arthur -now, Prince Regent- his best friend, threatening to take his life without even a mockery of a trial. The threat of Morgana was still fresh -with only a couple of months since her tearing the veil and causing the death of one of their brotherhood- and Merlin knew that this was the worst possible time for Arthur to find out about his magick.
It had happened after Merlin saved his friends from the suffocating effects of the poultice that Borden had shot into the soup they had all -but Merlin- consumed. Arthur had woken in time to see his servant magickally healing Gwain, who'd luckily been restored to health just before Arthur tackled Merlin away from the knight.
"What do you have to say for yourself, Sorcerer?" The word was spat at Merlin, laced with hate and disgust for what he was. The Knights of The Round Table stood staunchly behind Arthur glaring stonily at the sorcerer on his knees.
"Arthur," Merlin gazed pleadingly at his master and the knights, "all I've ever done is protect you, you're like a brother to me. All of you, you're my friends."
Merlin looked around at all of them, but the knights didn't budge from their defensive stance. Even Gwaine's eyes revealed his distrust, and the young man's shoulders slumped. He didn't bother to look at Elyan, whose father was killed because he'd been thought to be in collusion with a sorcerer; nor Percival who'd follow the other's lead; nor Leon, standing just behind him after tying the traitor's hands, and seemed to vibrate with the need to have Merlin killed immediately.
"Never!" Arthur growled. "Deceit is all a sorcerer is capable of, corrupted by the evil of the magick you chose to embrace. How could you do this to your friends, Merlin? How could you choose to study magick knowing of it's corrupting influence?"
"I didn't choose this, Arthur. You have to understand, please, I was born with magick."
Merlin tried to plead his case but Arthur refused to hear him.
"Lies, all of it, and I will hear no more. For your crime of sorcery, I sentence you to death by burning. Once we find and destroy that dragon's egg, upon our return to Camelot, the pyre will be built and the execution commenced immediately thereafter. Sir Leon, you will guard the prisoner, if he tries to escape, kill him. The rest of you, let's go."
Tears made tracks in the dirt on his cheeks as Merlin watched the men he considered friends walk from the camp and toward the tower. Toward the defenceless dragon egg.
~~~(*)~~(*)~~~
He had failed.
The dragon egg was lost; crushed under the rubble of the fallen tower along with Borden who'd never made it out.
Gaius would be pleased. The physician would have one last chance to tell his ward 'I told you so'.
Merlin stumbled wearily behind Leon's horse, which he'd been tied to; his heart aching with the loss of the egg, and at his failure to provide Kilgharrah with his long-awaited kin.
As he was pulled through the lower town, the mid-afternoon crowd stopped whatever they were doing to observe the progress of the small band. Merlin could hear a few of them muttering his name and making wild guesses as to what the king's manservant might have done to deserve such treatment. By the time they arrived at the Main Square, a small crowd had gathered behind the knights and their prisoner.
"Merlin?"
The young warlock looked up at the soft voice in time to see Elyan intercept Gwen's approach. Merlin felt grateful as her concerned gaze fell on his condition, but he knew it might not last once she found out about him.
Leon had untied him from the horse and bound the servant's hand behind his back, then he gripped one of Merlin's arms and dragged him toward the entrance with the quickest route to the dungeons.
"Wait, Elyan, what is happening? What could-"
"Guinevere, you forget yourself," Elyan was muttering softly to his sister, but Merlin heard his words, "you're a Lady now. Besides, he's a dangerous sorcerer, stay away from him. Come, Arthur is about to address the court and you're supposed to be there."
Merlin heard nothing else as he was dragged roughly through the corridors to the dungeons. Without even bothering to remove the ropes from the servant, Leon threw him into a cell and locked it, sparing one last glare for the stunned young man before walking away.
Struggling to sit up with his hands tied behind him proved difficult, but soon Merlin was able to huddle against the wall furthest from the bars. Only a few minutes had passed before -from the window above him- he could hear the sound of wooden logs being piled in the Main Square, but Merlin didn't bother to get up to view the construction of the instrument of his demise.
During his forced walk back to Camelot, Merlin had plenty of time to think of all that had happened that day, wondering what he could have done differently. Arthur and the Knights had been about to suffocate to death, he'd had to save them; although, to be honest, he hadn't expected Arthur or any of the others to wake immediately after he'd healed them.
If only he'd been quicker, or had been able to call on his healing ability faster, the dragon egg would be safe with Kilgharrah at this very moment, and he himself would be doing some chore or other for either Arthur or Gaius.
Now, as Merlin listened to the pyre being built, a numbness slowly consumed him; even though he'd known that one day this very thing might happen, he'd never thought that Arthur would be the one to so eagerly call for his death.
~~~(*)~~(*)~~~
"Merlin."
Emrys.
Merlin.
"Merlin."
The young warlock jerked awake and looked around, dazed, until his eyes fell on Gwen outside his cell.
"Gwen," Merlin cleared his throat, and straightened from his slouched position as best he could, "what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you. I was worried."
Sad brown eyes took in his scruffy and dirty appearance; Merlin knew that his earlier tears had probably left tracks on his dirty face, but he couldn't work up any embarrassment for his show of weakness. In fact, the warlock couldn't feel anything; not hate, or sadness or fear for what was to come. Something was probably wrong with him and he couldn't care less. Merlin dug his nails into the palms of his hands… and he felt a twinge of pain.
Maybe this was a type of punishment. Maybe the physical pain was the only thing he was allowed to feel for his failure to Kilgharrah, to all those innocent magick users, like the Druids; his failure to Magick.
"I brought you something to eat."
Merlin tilted his head as he looked at her; he should feel grateful, but…
"Thank you, Gwen, however, as you can see, they wouldn't dare untie a dangerous sorcerer like me. Which leads to my other questions; Why, and how are you here? Arthur and Elyan couldn't possibly have allowed you to see me, a sorcerer, much less alone."
It was as though his tongue had lost its filter and, still, he didn't care.
Gwen bit her lip, then crouched to sit on the floor, leaning sideways against the bars of the cell and placing the platter on her lap.
"I'm here because I needed to make sure that my friend is not alone at a time like this, and Arthur and the Knights of The Round Table are locked away in the small conference room he had installed next to his chamber."
So, then, where was Gaius? As the thought came to him, Merlin repeated it to Gwen.
"Gaius has been checking over the Knights for any lingering effects from the soup, he told me he was coming to see you, but then he got called away to the lower town on an emergency."
"Hmm, did he now? Well, no matter, but tell me, Gwen -and this time, I'd like a proper answer- why aren't you afraid of the wicked sorcerer?"
~~~(*)~~(*)~~~
Uncomfortable with her best friend's blank, yet penetrating stare, Gwen shifted and looked down at the platter of grapes, cure meat, bread, a skin on water, a cup and a carafe of wine. Merlin noticed her glance toward the entrance to the dungeons before looking back at him.
"I've known that you had magick since Arthur pulled the sword my father made from that stone. I saw you make the stone release the sword for Arthur. Your eyes glowed. At first, I was afraid, I thought you were manipulating the prince with your magick, but then I remember how confident Arthur was after retrieving the sword." With a sigh, Gwen popped one of the grapes into her mouth and savouring it before she continued. "You helped him to believe in himself again. Then I thought of all the things Arthur has survived since you came to Camelot, and I believed… I know you've been protecting him -and us- all this time. You don't deserve this, Merlin. Arthur, his Knights and all of Camelot should be on their knees thanking you. Instead… "
She trailed off with a hopeless shrug and bit into another grape; Merlin didn't know how to reply. He knew that under his numbness he cared for Gwen and was grateful for her words, her subtle show of loyalty and so he chose to warn against it.
"You should go before they find you here. They'll either think I enchanted you or that you're willingly aiding a sorcerer; then you'll end up in that cell there next to me."
"I think I could lie my way out of trouble if I have to, so I'm not leaving until you've eaten the rest of this food."
"Well, my hands are still tied. So-"
"My hands aren't, and they're relatively clean. So get over here."
Merlin blinked lazily at her and Gwen arched a brow, brandishing a slice of meat as she waited. Finally, he braced a shoulder against the wall and stood before crossing to the bars and mirrored Gwen's seated posture, leaning sideways against them.
Some minutes later, as he ate -Gwen silent as she fed him- a loud rumble echoed in the distance; blank blue eyes met hopeful brown ones.
"If it rains before they're complete, you'll have two or three days before the pyre has dried."
"Yes, but the rain isn't going to stop an axe, my Lady. Three hours, three days… it all ends either way," Merlin said carelessly as he chewed the last bite of the sandwich his friend had put together.
With her head leaning against the bar close to his, Gwen murmured curiously, "You don't seem like yourself, Merlin. You've never appeared to be the kind of person to just give up. Don't you want to get away… escape? Can't you… do something?"
"I could, but I don't think I want to."
"Why?"
"Self-preservation, I guess."
"I don't understand."
She sighed as Merlin gestured to the grapes and she held the bunch close to him. He'd eaten almost half of it before he explained.
"If I were to 'do something' as you say, and I get away, one day I'm going to hear rumours of Camelot being under attack or Arthur ending up in some type of danger. Do you know what I'd do?"
Gwen had a fair idea, but she said nothing as she waited for Merlin to continue, pouring some wine into the cup she'd brought.
"No? Well, to be honest, I don't know what I'd do anymore. Before today, old Merlin would have told you that -hunted or not, unwanted or not- he'd do everything in his power to help and protect Arthur and Camelot."
As he ate the last of the grapes, Merlin turned his head to face her, his forehead pressed against the bar. This close to her friend, Gwen noticed a luminous ring of gold that circled his irises, bleeding into the cerulean hue. It was too noticeable to never have been seen before, and she wondered if Merlin's magick was affecting... or protecting his mind.
"Now," Merlin continued, his cerulean-gold orbs still blank yet threatening in a way that Gwen had never experienced from her best friend before, and she looked away, "right at this very moment, I really don't care what happens to Arthur or to Camelot, nor Gaius… or you. And I know that this -whatever it is- probably won't last because, underneath the numbness, old Merlin is still there, still caring about you and Gaius and the others. I think I'll do myself a favour and end things now before I turn back into a giant pusillanimous of a servant."
Shaking her head in disappointment, Gwen placed the platter on the floor at her feet.
"You've never been a coward, Merlin. At least, not before."
The words were said just loud enough for him to hear, and Gwen kept her gaze on the cup of wine in her hand. She thought of her best friend, smiling and happy, always ready with a kind word or those of wisdom; always offering to help anyone in need, charging into skirmishes behind Arthur and the Knights. She wanted him back; she wanted things to return to the way they were when old Merlin, her best friend, still cared about her and wasn't locked in the dungeon because of who or what he is.
A heavy rain began to fall and Gwen looked up at the window to the heavy deluge. However, the hope that Merlin would be spared or try to get away, was gone. A soft warm thumb swiped at her cheek, brushing away tears she hadn't realised were falling and Gwen looked up at him, startled; his gaze remained blank as ever, as he took the cup from her trembling hands and drank from it.
"Your hands are untied," she said, stating the obvious as she searched his partially glowing irises. It was eerie to see those beautifully cold blank eyes staring back at her, yet his hand was so gentle on her face.
"Are they?"
Placing the empty cup in the tray beside her, Merlin returned his hands to their position behind him. Gwen glanced behind him, and she could see the rope binding his hands still… or again.
"You should go before someone decides to come down here to make sure the dangerous sorcerer hasn't escaped."
Picking up the platter, Gwen removed the full water skin and placed it next to him before standing. She dawdled for a moment, unsure of what more she could do or say to get her friend to choose to escape, but nothing came to mind.
Merlin remained seated on the dirty hay-strewn floor with his disturbing gaze locked on her. Gwen's shoulders slumped as she walked toward the exit; the tears returned at his softly spoken words and she hurried away.
"Wear something pretty to my burning."
~~~(*)~~(*)~~~
Three days later, as he was being tied to the stake, Merlin spotted Gwen standing directly across from him at the front of the crowd surrounding the pyre. She wore a burgundy coloured dress with long flowing sleeves and a heavy cloak -with the hood pulled up, shielding her face- that matched her dress.
"That'll do."
Merlin said it just loud enough for Gwen to hear and he saw her cover an unladylike snort as she shook her head at him, her eyes already filling with tears. With her gaze still on him she mouthed two words, 'Merlin, please'.
He knew what Gwen was asking because she wasn't the only one pleading with him.
Since the first day of his imprisonment, Druids from all over the kingdom have been bombarding the young warlock's mind with pleads to save himself, saying that he was needed to help Arthur bring the lands of Albion together.
Even Kilgharrah took to pleading with him, begging Merlin to call him to Camelot as the Great Dragon couldn't violate his Dragonlord's banishment of him from the kingdom.
Good luck to Camelot once the last Dragonlord is dead and unable to hold back a dragon's thirty-something-year-old vengeance.
All their pleadings only solidified his resolve. None of them wanted Merlin to save himself for himself; it was all for them. However, now that he thought of it, he couldn't say that about Gwen. All she knew was that Merlin had magick; Gwen didn't know anything about his so-called destiny.
"Tell my mother what happened. Please."
Gwen nodded, with a sob, "I promise."
Merlin looked around one last time, noting the angry looks that a few of the nobles surrounding Arthur near the steps threw at the once-maidservant; she would have to be on her guard now.
Once Merlin was properly secured to the post, the sentries stood ready, with lit torches, circled around the pyre. The Prince Regent began to speak and Merlin looked back at the only person who'd shown any care for him in the past three days. He mouthed for her to turn away, but Gwen shook her head and pursed her lips, uncaring of the tears falling freely.
Merlin shrugged at her decline and closed his eyes as he tuned out Arthur droning on about a resurgence of the fight against magick, of the return of witch-finders, blah, blah, blah. A minute or so later, Merlin could hear the whoosh of flames as the Prince ordered the pyre to be lit, he sighed and kept his eyes closed; it was almost over. Finally.
Seconds passed as Merlin anticipated the searing pain from the lick of flames against his legs, which he could sense climbing higher; he frowned in concentration and clenched his jaw unwilling to give the onlookers any satisfaction by screaming. And he waited. He could hear Gwen sobbing uncontrollably and he shifted; he still felt the warmth of the flames and he was beginning to feel annoyed at the damned wait.
Merlin peaked from one of his eyes, but then they both shot wide. Flames bathed his body.
Looking down, Merlin couldn't see his lower body anymore, he could hear the uneasy muttering of the crowd at his unnatural silence, and he studied the flames; they were scorching his body, he could see it yet he felt nothing. His gaze ran over the disappointed sadists that had wanted to hear him scream and Merlin allowed a tiny smirk to grace his lips. Soon, the fire became a wall between him and the onlookers, and the warlock closed his eyes as his entire body was consumed.
Except… he wasn't.
With his entire body now just a torch, something shifted in his mind, his soul… or his magick and Merlin began to understand that he really had been sensing the flames before, and he instinctively knew that with just one thought, the flames would transport him to wherever he wished.
The warlock didn't know whether to laugh, cry or rage.
Am I not going to die today? Can't I die?
The thought made him twitch violently. Then he heard the faint echo of Gwen's sobs; something twisted within him, and he gasped for breath.
The last thing Arthur, his Knights, Gwen and the rest of the court heard from the pyre was a bellow of pain and rage as the fire briefly flared, seemingly burning the sorcerer to ashes.