Author's Note: This is a longer one - just over 1000 words. You really ought to have read chibikaty's version by now.
This was inspired by the scene in 1x01 when Merlin witnesses his first beheading.
Sentence
Arthur trudged through the muddy streets of Camelot's lower town. Usually, Arthur wasn't one to drag his feet but it had been a tiring day of manservant-ing.
Well, maybe that wasn't true. Any one day at his job had never been less tiring than the others. Each day brought on a new combination of chores and duties and required different levels of patience, but he was similarly spent after each sunset.
Perhaps it had only been a tiring day then.
No, he thought. Terrifying better suited it.
"You were brought to me in accusation and, after thorough deduction, have been found to be tainted with the curse of Abomination." A scream of denial. A King's steady decree. "You were born evil – disfigured and disabled like the primitive abomination that you are – and the magic saw that and would not touch you. Respecting its wisdom, I, King Gaius of Camelot, will not allow you to touch a single magical thing in this life." A broken-hearted sob. An iron fist sentence. "With great pain, I decree that magic will touch you – once – in order that it take your life and remove your evil from this world."
Arthur paused in his trek home to massage his aching eyes. The woman hadn't even had a chance to plead for her life. Her neck had snapped so quickly. And so loudly.
Though her two young – and magical – children had cried louder.
Yes, Arthur's days were usually tiring, often weary. But they didn't always remind him of the critical danger he was living in with his every breath, or remind him of the mother he himself had lost to the unforgiving tyranny of King Gaius. There were also days – rare, occasional – when banter, insults, and plenty of distracting thoughts could actually make him forget that his irritating master would kill him without remorse if he were to learn the truth. Arthur wasn't sure if this forgetfulness was foolish or not and he didn't have a single person to ask.
Body heavy with fear and exhaustion, Arthur began his gait anew, convinced he'd keel over once he clambered near enough to his bed and, for all intents and purposes, become dead to the cruel (and terrifying) world around him.
Of course, he began to reconsider as he entered his shared hut and smelt the wonderful dinner Hunith must have prepared for him.
"Ah-ha! There you are! I was beginning to worry you'd miss out on my famous stew."
Hunith, a woman who worked in the palace kitchens and who had so graciously taken him in after his first day in Camelot, was knelt near their fireplace and wiping her hands on her skirt while missing her apron entirely. On the inside, Arthur winced. When he earned half a coin to spare, a new dress for the big-hearted woman would be the first thing it'd go towards. She'd been wearing the same two pieces for the past four years; one of them was inches too short for her, the other more like a patchwork quilt than a single article of clothing. She had a penchant for wearing headscarves as well, though all of them ended up being doubly-purposed as a washing rag. Sometimes the poor woman even mixed up which piece of cloth was what and went around wearing an ageless rag on her head all day. Not that Hunith ever seemed to mind – or notice, really – that her state of dress left much to be desired. She was always content and smiling as long as she could feed those who needed it, even if she sometimes forgot to feed herself.
"It smells delicious," Arthur complimented, his mood slightly lifted by Hunith's unconditional kindness. She was the reason he still hoped for a land united in magic and non-magic folk.
Smothering her bashful smile – but not her blush – Hunith lightly swatted a rag on his arm. "I'll have no praise until you've swallowed twice, young man, and you know it."
Arthur smiled and sat down immediately, his mouth already watering in anticipation. As soon as he was able, he was scarfing down his dinner only to be proven right; it was delicious. Before he even knew it, his dish was empty.
Anticipating this, Hunith ladled out another serving for him while teasingly asking, "Rough day in the workplace, was it?"
Arthur froze, his spoon half way up to his mouth again. Recalling the sight of the dead woman's body sent shivers up his spine and into his hair. Seeing Hunith sit across him and serve him food like she might have to her children about this time if she hadn't…
His eyes ached again, beckoning his fingers and attention. He didn't even know how she had been found out. How exactly did King Gaius go around exposing non-magical people? Were they accused of it? Turned in by family? Was there some kind of device or spell or crystal that could detect the presence or absense of magic? Or maybe every household in the kingdom was networked somehow… invisible ears and eyes in the walls and doors where they could discover hidden secrets.
"Arthur," He started violently at Hunith's interruption, which made her pause in turn. Eventually, after shooting him careful and concerned looks, she continued, "Are you alright?"
He was careful to avoid her eyes. "The King killed today. A woman."
Hunith's gaze turned to a mixture of horror and sympathy, never one to approve of violence or murder as she was a pacifist. Arthur barely noticed. All he could look at was his now-unappetizing food. "Her husband was killed in a magician's tournament three years ago and she had two children. Now they're orphans."
"Oh, Arthur…" she cooed, moving around the table to sit beside him and cocoon him in her arms. It only made the tears press harder against his eyes, the motherly embrace so like he missed and craved.
"They were crying, screaming for him to spare her – to stop. Why," his voice cracked, "why didn't he listen?"
"Shh," the pats to his hair came as soon as his tears spilt. "Shh, shh… I don't know. I don't know, Arthur. It's okay, shh. You'll see, they'll be alright. Those kids'll be alright."
"How do you know?" Arthur croaked, well and truly a blubbering mess now.
Hunith chuckled lightheartedly. "Because from now on, you'll be looking out for them, you brave and crazy boy." A kiss to the head and he was chuckling alongside her, unable to deny the truth of her words.
Their mirth wouldn't last long, wouldn't even last the night. But it was still nice to have the moment.
Author's Note: I'm unsure as to how (or if) my Hunith will have anything to do in relation to Prince Merlin. Luckily, I've got a bunch of other drabbles I can post before I tackle that problem.
