Title: The Last Good Act
Characters/Pairings: Merlin, Uther, Gaius, Edwin
Rating/Warnings: T (graphic descriptions of violence)
Universe: Canon
Word Count: 716
Summary: Merlin heals Uther from Edwin's spell. Set in 1x06.
He left Edwin's corpse dripping blood in the antechamber and followed Gaius to Uther's side.
He hadn't wanted to kill Edwin. The man had been kind to him — more than that; he'd been a teacher of sorts, in ways that Gaius couldn't, in ways that the old man was too afraid to be, after all he'd lived through and seen. And it was, after all, for Gaius that Merlin had sent an axe through Edwin's skull, which had split like an overripe melon, spewing grey and red—
But he couldn't think of that or he would vomit, and so he remembered Arthur moments earlier — was it only moments earlier? — panicked and desperate in the hallway, telling him, "My father has Morgana's illness." And he remembered Morgana's face, pale against her pillow, and her shallow breathing that grew more and more faint as the days passed, and thought that maybe he could right Edwin's wrongs, his misguided wrongs, because it was his fault that he was—
No, he told himself firmly, killing those thoughts as easily as — No. Concentrate.
And so he picked up Edwin's box and listened to Gaius' explanations, focusing on the here-and-now, focusing so hard on fixing things that it wasn't until he saw Uther's face that he realized what he was about to do.
"We can't use magic on Uther, he'd kill us," Merlin protested, drawing back, but Gaius didn't seem to care about that — didn't he care about Merlin's life at all? — and suddenly he wondered why he had killed Edwin. The man had been mad, of course; wanting to rule, offering Merlin a place beside him — that was madness. But killing Uther...
"If you don't, he's going to die."
...would that really be so wrong?
Uther had massacred his people. Uther had had them hunted and tortured and slaughtered and slain, raped and plundered and demonized beyond all hope of redemption, and now he lay at Merlin's mercy, defenseless and unknowing, and all Merlin had to do was nothing. Edwin had already done the work, poor Edwin, whom Merlin had killed for threatening the wrong man in front of him, whose blood Merlin would scrub off the floors later on when this was all over, and now Merlin just needed to let Edwin's spell run its course, and they would have their vengeance.
But then Merlin glanced at Gaius, who looked wrecked and despondent as he watched his sleeping king, just as much as Arthur had when he'd told Merlin about his father's state. And this gave Merlin pause, because Uther wasn't family to Gaius; Uther was his king and his friend, and yet Gaius seemed devastated by his imminent death. But maybe it wasn't such a great mystery; Gaius was, after all, living proof that Uther's intolerance was not complete. Merlin didn't know why Uther had spared him — he hadn't asked, would never ask, because some things were just too personal — but perhaps it was enough that he had. And there were others who loved him, others to whom he was not a nightmare made flesh, and — and Arthur wasn't ready to be king.
But above all, Merlin was not made for passivity. He did not consider himself a killer, but apparently he was — moving to Camelot had turned him into one, and tonight especially proved it. But he had never killed someone in cold blood before; he had never looked down at a sleeping man and judged him for his sins and decided, Yes, now he must die. He was not yet that far gone from the Merlin who had moved from Ealdor, although he knew he was not quite the same. And so he would heal Uther, because he could; he would show him the goodness of magic, if he could; and if he failed then he would stand in front of him and deliver his vengeance face-to-face, when Uther was conscious and cowering, because he should.
For now, though, he would wait.
And so Edwin's body cooled outside while his killer destroyed his last good act. Merlin had far too much blood on his hands tonight, but he laid those hands on the murderer in front of him and could not tell if he absolved or damned himself further.
