Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin
Caged
Chapter 2
"The feelings trembled and flapped in his chest like a bird newly put in a cage."
-Rumi-
Merlin didn't know how he made it through the banquet without completely falling apart, but he managed somehow. Arthur was distracted—everyone was, really. No one noticed that Merlin's smile never reached his eyes. No one noticed his shaky hands. No one noticed at all, they were so caught up in the feelings of the day. And no one need know that Merlin's feelings were different from theirs.
The banquet finally ended, and Merlin helped Arthur to bed. Both men were exhausted, and Arthur was a bit drunk. They were rather somber, and went through their routine in silence. The silence was a little heavy, and Merlin felt he should say something to Arthur—about how he'd be a great King, or how the people were already showing their love and support for Arthur's leadership. But Merlin didn't trust himself to speak. And tonight, he felt as if it would have fallen on deaf ears anyway.
Merlin knew that even though Arthur had been shown to enjoy himself at the feast, that's all it was—a show. Arthur was still grieving, and even with his hopes for a better future, for a new day, he was still hurting. Arthur had been expected to celebrate while still mourning the loss of his father. Merlin felt a sort of kinship in that moment, to know that his smile was not the only one that had been forced that evening. But the differing reasons behind his and Arthur's false smiles drove another spike of guilt into Merlin's chest.
Arthur fell back heavily on his pillows as Merlin began to douse the candles. Once finished, Merlin set down the candle snuffer on the table, and mumbled, "Goodnight, Sire."
"'Night, Merlin." Just as Merlin was about to leave, Arthur called him again. "Merlin?"
Merlin paused at the door. "Yes, Arthur?"
"… I would like a bit of a lie-in tomorrow."
Merlin couldn't see Arthur's face very well in the dark room, but he didn't need to in order to see that Arthur had meant to say something else, but had changed his mind. "Of course, Sire." And with that, Merlin slipped quietly out of the room, and headed home.
The castle's dim corridors were mostly deserted, everyone having rushed to bed once the celebrations had ended. Merlin would have appreciated a few more servants or guards in the halls to help keep his mask on. With no one around to see, Merlin could feel himself losing his composure. His mind was reeling with all that had changed, and with all that would not change.
Uther was dead. Arthur was king, and was on his way to becoming a great one. He had already knighted common men, and even now was holding them in the highest regard, honoring them above the noble knights. Arthur was free to court and marry Gwen, and Camelot would have a strong Queen—strong in her empathy and connection with her citizens. And the people loved their new monarch, had already loved him more than Uther even when Uther still king. They would live well and prosper under Arthur's kind hand. Everyone, Merlin's friends especially, was moving up in the world.
But Merlin was stuck. And he would remain stuck in his place, because Arthur would never forgive, never forget what had happened to his father. He would never welcome magic back to Camelot, and so Merlin would never be more than what Arthur made of him—a bumbling, clumsy servant. Arthur would never know all that Merlin had done for him, had sacrificed for him.
Merlin longed to be free, to truly soar—but he had been born in a cage. As his powers had grown more unpredictable, Merlin had quickly outgrown his small village coop. Though he had been a little apprehensive, Merlin had been filled with an innocent hope when his mother had sent him to Gaius, to help guide and train his magic.
But after moving to Camelot and being shoved into his role as Arthur's servant and protector, Merlin realized he had only swapped one cage for another. But the new cage was more stifling and dangerous than the old one—this cage had bars wrapped in thorns, and chains had been shackled to his feet. As Merlin and his powers grew even stronger, Camelot's cage grew smaller, the thorns sharper, the chains heavier.
When Arthur had given magic a chance to heal his father, Merlin had heard the key turn in the lock and the cage door creak open. He had stretched his wings and could almost taste the fresh air—see his destiny not as a binding chain, but as the liberating bond it was meant to be.
But on that fateful night, when Merlin had felt for Uther's nonexistent pulse, the cage door had slammed shut on him. The thorns had pierced through his wings, and Merlin felt he was slowly bleeding to death. The chains were heavier than ever, and had now wrapped themselves tightly around his chest. The fresh air had been replaced with the smell of decay and despair.
He had been impatient. That taste of freedom had clouded his judgement, and now he had ruined everything. Destiny had been destroyed, and by Merlin's own hand. Magic would remain banned and persecuted, and Albion would never truly live or thrive. And neither would Merlin. Merlin was already dying, his soul crushed and bleeding under the ruins of failed prophecies and broken promises.
He would never fly.
Merlin shook himself from his thoughts. He stopped walking, paused at a window in the corridor, and gazed through the blurry pane at the night sky. As he looked, the window seemed to shrink, and once again the stone walls closed in on him, trapping him in a cold, indifferent prison, and Merlin suddenly found it hard to breathe.
He had to get out. He had to get away, out of the thick, choking air of the castle. Out of the cage of his failure. Merlin pushed himself away from the window and ran towards the entrance hall.
He stumbled on the last few steps into the courtyard, but quickly regained his balance and rushed through the lower town. Merlin was so focused on getting out, he had briefly forgotten about the guards at the gate. He skidded to a stop, but he had already been seen.
The shorter guard called out, waving his halberd in Merlin's direction. "Halt! Where do you think you're going, boy? Or should I call you thief, the way you were tearing through the street?"
The taller guard held his torch up to better see who they had stopped. "Oh, don't be like that, Calder. It's only Merlin." He stifled a yawn before addressing the manservant. "Where are you off in such a hurry, Merlin?"
Merlin swallowed his gasps, turned on his smile, and a lie quickly found its way onto his lips. "I need to gather some rare herbs for Gaius. There's a kind that only blooms in the moonlight, and I already have a late start. Please, I won't be long."
The two guards looked at one another. The tall guard shrugged his shoulders. "I see no harm in it."
"Brenten—" But Calder was cut off by his friend.
"—I certainly don't want to get on Gaius's bad side if he doesn't get his herbs. It should be fine as long as he returns before the guard change." The tall guard, Brenten, turned to face the servant again. "Think you can manage it, Merlin?"
Merlin, who was starting to get antsy, replied quickly. "Yes, of course. I'll be back before you know it."
The short guard, Calder, grumbled but said nothing else. They both raised their halberds out of the way, and Merlin dashed through the now unbarred gate. He sprinted down the dusty road and threw himself into the leafy embrace of the forest.
A/N: First of all, I want to say thank you to all who read, followed, and favorited the first chapter, and a huge thanks to those who reviewed. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was more than pleasantly surprised to see how many had visited my little corner of the internet. You guys are awesome.
Chapter 3 is pretty much done, but still needs a tiny bit more polishing. But it should be out soon as well. After that … well, I don't want to spoil you with speedy updates, because I know I will need more time to revise future chapters. So don't get too used to this. Nothing gold can stay, you know. Except for you guys—stay gold, beloved readers!
Posted: 5/10/17
