Thank you so much for your continued support and lovely reviews. I may up the rating to 'M' for an upcoming chapter, or I could tone it down to keep it at a 'T'. Let me know which you all prefer. I really appreciate feedback.
This wasn't what he had expected. Merlin sat in the dungeons, head resting against the cold stone walls. How many times had he been tossed into the dungeons, now? He'd lost count.
Arthur's horse had a scare, a terrible fright, and the King was sent toppling off, hitting his head on the ground. Merlin had hopped off of his own horse and run after the King, shouting for Guinevere to call for help. The Queen slid off of her horse and helped Arthur onto Merlin's so they could get him back to Camelot.
Guinevere called for the court to assemble and began to interrogate anyone who had been in the stables to find how on earth Arthur could have fallen, and why the saddle had been unsafe.
Tyr, a humble, plump stable worker had been questioned until he was near tears. Merlin frowned, knowing Tyr had nothing to do with it. Where was justice if the wrong people were always blamed? Had Uther's madness crept into Gwen after three years as Queen?
Merlin, unable to contain himself, stepped forward, blocking Tyr from the Queen's view. He tried not to snarl at the sight of Gwen sitting on someone else's throne. She should have run off with Lancelot when she had the chance; she would have been better off.
"It wasn't Tyr, can't you see that?" he gestured to the innocent man.
"Then who do you suggest, Merlin? Someone has to have done it," Guinevere sighed.
"Me," Merlin blurted out.
Gwaine scoffed, "Merlin, don't be ridiculous."
"Merlin doesn't have a murderous bone in his body," Percival piped up.
Mordred remained quiet, watching the scene unfold before him.
"If you're going to throw an innocent man in jail, it may as well be me," Merlin stood with his shoulders squared, chin up.
"Merlin, you know I can't throw you in the dungeons for no reason," Gwen bit her lip.
Hasn't stopped the Pendragons before, has it?
"Then for being too cheeky," Merlin tried to smile.
So he was dragged out of the throne room, tossed into the dungeon. Not for being cheeky, though, but for attempted treason. No one believed he'd actually try to hurt the King. After all, he was a faithful servant and friend. No one would ever suspect him.
Merlin closed his eyes, deciding sleep would be better than staring at the wall.
"Merlin," a soft voice came, a gentle hand on his shoulder.
His eyes opened immediately, and he was startled to find large green eyes staring into his blue ones.
"Morgana?" he whispered, voice hoarse.
How the hell did she get into the dungeon?
"Simply knocked out the guards. They won't even remember what happened," she answered his unasked question.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, sitting up.
Morgana removed her hand from his shoulder and pursed her lips.
"You said you wouldn't disappoint me. Arthur lives," she said blankly.
Merlin made a face, "It's not safe for you to be here."
"Your name will be cleared tomorrow morning. I've made it so all the saddles for every one of the knights' horses are damaged. Call it a work defect," she said, sounding pleased with herself.
Merlin's mouth moved, though no sound came out. How had she done that all in the span of a day and a half? How had she known he was in the dungeons? Did she have a vision?
"I'll take your blubbering like a fish as a thank you," she stood slowly.
Merlin scrambled up to stand as well. There was a time when she was in the very same cell, tossed there by Uther because she had it in her to fight.
"Thank you," he said earnestly.
"Good job, Merlin," she nodded.
"I landed myself in here," he snorted.
"Yes, but now no one will doubt your loyalty," she gave a fleeting smile and disappeared out of the cell and towards the exit they used to help Mordred escape so long ago.
"I knew it couldn't have been you," Arthur said by way of apology the next day.
Merlin was already going about his daily work as if nothing had happened. Guinevere had apologised to him personally, offering him some cake as if that made everything better. He recalled that Gwen had been the first friend he'd made in Camelot. That was Gwen, now he was dealing with Guinevere.
"Thank you, sire," Merlin smiled tensely.
"You should've heard the ruckus Gwaine caused the moment he knew I was awake," Arthur laughed, "I fear the knights are more loyal to you than they are to me."
"Preposterous," Merlin laughed shortly.
The knights are more loyal to you than they are to me. Could that be true? Lancelot was dead, no thanks to the King, but Gwaine was surely his friend. Percival was close with Gwaine, so that made two possibly to be on his side. But Morgana put Gwaine through hell when she had claimed her throne three years past.
Merlin frowned. Elyan would be loyal to his sister, no doubt. Leon would defend Camelot until his dying breath, for Arthur, of that he was sure. Then again, Merlin had once been willing to lay down his life for Arthur's and the future of Albion. How things had changed.
"Merlin, you all right?" Arthur asked, concerned.
"Fine, sire," he offered a pained smile.
"Your King will not miss you?" Morgana asked, smirking.
"I have no king," Merlin replied sharply.
Morgana's smirk widened. She had a book open in front of her as she ground up bits of herbs and leaves. Merlin was standing across from her, stirring a thin paste in a wooden bowl. He was staying for dinner. No one would miss him anyway.
Aithusa had gone hunting now that she was big enough. Sometimes she came back with birds she'd caught.
"When did you start cooking for yourself?" Merlin asked suddenly. She'd grown up accustomed to others doing everything for her, and here she was preparing a dressing for whatever Aithusa brought back. Guinevere, who had once been a servant, could barely walk a few feet to get her own papers. He remembered Sefa and his head hurt a bit.
"After you poisoned me. I couldn't risk it," Morgana answered, not looking him in the eye.
It was as if she'd stabbed him in the heart.
"It's in the past," she said, noticing his pained expression.
"I'm so-"
"If you apologise again I will not hesitate to use this," she held the knife she was using to cut the herbs in front of her.
Merlin chuckled slowly.
"What ever happened to Sefa?" he asked suddenly.
"Another object of your affections?" Morgana asked with a raised brow. What was it that drew Merlin to servant girls? First Gwen, now Sefa. She assumed his Freya was a servant somewhere, somehow, too.
"A friend," Merlin said, stabbing the bowl with the wooden spoon.
"She's somewhere safe and far from Camelot," Morgana said reassuringly. She was sorry her father had died. He had been loyal, and Sefa was useful.
Merlin let out a sigh of relief. She bit her lip, looking at him. He'd grown up. He wasn't as scrawny as he'd once been, that much was obvious when she had tended to his wounds. He didn't smile as much, he was quieter, and so, so sad. Maybe he'd been like that before, too, but she'd been tricked by his cheery façade. This newer, sombre Merlin had first turned up years ago. She did the math in her head, remembering the escaped prisoner Uther had wanted captured. She had been reportedly a beautiful girl who turned into a monster at night. Freya. Morgana's eyes flashed with realisation.
"Tell me about her," Morgana said quietly.
"Sefa?" Merlin asked in confusion.
"No," she didn't roll her eyes, "Freya."
Merlin paled and looked as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.
"I promised I'd never leave her, that I'd take care of her. I failed her," he said lowly, looking anywhere but at Morgana.
"Arthur killed her when she was in her beast form," Morgana said.
Merlin looked at her curiously.
"I remember how upset Uther was that a monster had gone running free," Morgana said sourly.
"She wasn't a monster!" Merlin growled, "She was a Druid. I tried to conjure up a flower for her but it was a strawberry," his voice grew small.
Morgana was taken aback at the ferocity in Merlin's voice and the haunted look on his face. So the girl had known about his magic.
"She knew," Morgana's mouth set into a firm line, "Who else had you told?"
"Will, from Ealdor," Merlin started, "Lancelot figured it out. Nimueh knew. My father. Gaius knows. I told Aggravaine before I killed him."
Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, old enough to go at any moment. It left a bitter taste in her mouth to know he didn't trust her at all, even when she'd been relatively innocent and so frightened. She didn't think he'd have it in him to kill someone, but he was full of surprises.
"What do you mean 'figured it out'?" she asked curiously, ignoring her stomach clenching. She had liked Lancelot well enough. She was sad to see him go.
"He wasn't as blind as Arthur, that's for sure. He saw me use magic in a battle, and put two and two together."
Morgana snorted.
Merlin bit his lip, "Mordred knows."
Morgana's head snapped up to look at him. Her mouth went agape.
"He's known since we helped him escape Camelot," he clarified.
That was a punch to the gut. Morgana dropped the knife she'd been holding and held onto the edge of the table. How much longer did she have to be lied to? How many more times would she be betrayed? How many times would she be abandoned, time and time again?
"Morgana," Merlin said in concern.
"Get out," she said quietly. He'd leave her just like the rest of them.
"I'm sorry, I just, I'm trying to be honest."
"Get out!" she screamed, staring at the table. Her shoulders shook as she took deep breaths.
Merlin stood rooted in his spot.
"What part of 'get out' don't you understand?" she snapped, looking at him with wild eyes.
"I'm not going to leave, not when you're like this," Merlin looked genuinely worried.
"GET OUT!" Morgana screeched.
Merlin moved around the table to stand behind her. He hesitantly placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched, trying to make him let go.
"Don't touch me! Let go!" she fought to get free.
That only made Merlin hold onto her tighter. She turned around to face him and slammed her hands against his chest.
"LEAVE! GET OUT!" she punched him. If she hadn't have dropped the knife she would have stabbed him. She convinced herself she would have.
"I'll kill you," she threatened, though it sounded hollow to her own ears.
Merlin didn't say anything. He sank down onto the ground with her as she had a fit. Tears welled in her eyes but she refused to cry. He held her while she fought back sobs and struggled to escape his touch. She hit him once for Arthur, for Gwen (no, Guinevere), for Uther, for her dead parents, for Morgause, for Mordred, and for him.
Her slaps grew weaker with each one, until she grew tired like a petulant child.
By the time she had calmed down her hands were fisted around Merlin's tunic, head resting on his chest. His legs were outstretched in front of him and she sat on his knees, as light as a feather. He rocked back and forth, trying to sooth her.
"I'm always alone, Merlin," she murmured.
"Not anymore," he gently rubbed her shoulder in comfort. His chin rested on her head, and she was clinging to him because he was all she had left.
I don't want to be alone anymore, she had said once. He had turned her away once, and he wouldn't do that to her again.