What's this!? Two chapters in one day? MADNESS!
Haha :) I just thought that it would be best to start off on the next passage tomorrow because it helps the timeline move along faster plus my internet was down last night so I wrote a lot of material.
Merlin opened his eyes to the soft sunlight now streaming through the window next to his tiny bed. He glanced over at Arthur who was still sleeping soundly, though snoring so loud the younger boy wondered how he did not wake himself with all the noise. The young warlock thought back to the night before, the look of sorrow that his brother had worn and shivered despite the warm blanket pulled protectively around his slim body.
Just what had their father said to Arthur that could possibly make him look so downhearted and broken? Surely whatever it was it couldn't have just been about Merlin because he was fine, his wound had healed with no lasting damage, even the ache that he felt the previous night had faded, only hurting slightly when he pressed on it. But what then? The raven-haired youth probed the corners of his mind, trying to find something, anything, that could tell him why his brother had acted the way he did.
Then it came to him, at first it was a snippet, nothing more- perhaps just a delirious dream brought on by the head wound. No, it was more than that. It was too clear, too deeply implanted in his memory to be a simple hallucination.
A conversation between his mother and father floated into the younger boy's head but it was too choppy to give much information. The only thing that he could properly gather from the memory was that Balinor had told Arthur something, a truth. Something that had been drastic enough to send him into the spiraling sadness that Merlin had seen the previous night. But what could possibly be horrible enough to send his brother- the brother who was always strong and brave- into such a depression?
Merlin shook his head a little to try to clear this thoughts, which were becoming jumbled together as he tried, and failed, to remember more of the conversation.
Maybe he should just confront his father about what he had heard? No, Balinor would never tell. Whatever it was, he still wanted Merlin kept in the dark about it. If there was one thing that the black-haired man was good at, it was keeping secrets, the young warlock thought bitterly as he thought of how little he knew about his father and his past. And it didn't seem like Arthur was going to tell him much of anything either.
Feeling utterly lost and hopeless, Merlin pulled himself into a sitting position and licked his parched lips. The taste in his mouth from the previous night had, somehow, grown worse as he slept. The youth pushed the rough blanket to the side and swung his long, gangly legs over the side of his straw mattress, trying to make as little noise as possible as to not wake the still-sleeping Arthur.
The water bucket was empty when the youth tried to gather some in his clay cup. Sighing angrily, Merlin picked up the container and headed to refill it, a task that meant he would have to trudge down to the stream where he had fallen earlier. When the boy stepped outside he was almost blinded in the early-morning light.
Ealdor was a village of early-risers and, much to Merlin's annoyance, everybody seemed very curious about his condition. He was stopped on several occasions by "worried" neighbors asking him how he felt or what had happened.
"You're still alive then?" Merlin halted once more at the cold tones of a sandy-haired boy about his age.
He turned slowly, eyes filled with annoyance. "Sadly. I'd gladly have died if it meant that I didn't have to look at you again."
The two boys stared at each other for a long moment before Merlin felt a smile forcing its way across his face. He had tried to keep up a stern scowl but the utterly serious look on the other boy's face had caused him to burst out laughing.
"I was worried about you mate!" The sandy-haired boy dropped his charade and approached Merlin, clapping him on the back firmly. "You gave us all quite a scare!"
"I thought that nothing scares you, Will." Merlin pushed the other boy away playfully.
The sandy-haired boy, Will, pushed back with greater force, nearly knocking Merlin over.
"Oi watch it! Injured here!" The young warlock pointed to his temple where he assumed a bruise had formed. Will smiled knowingly, a playful gleam in his eye as he did so.
"Not as much as yesterday you're not. I'm going to take a guess that is Balinor's doing?" Merlin shrugged.
"I guess." He sighed. "I don't remember much of it really. Just fall- er, slipping, then waking up this morning feeling good as ever."
The boys had started walking towards the stream as they spoke. The sandy-haired boy had fallen silent.
"Arthur pushed you didn't he?" Will asked seriously. "Prat."
Merlin shrugged. He knew that Arthur hadn't meant to hurt him and had forgiven his brother for the resulting injury long ago. "He didn't mean to. It was an accident. Besides, I pushed him first." A mischievous grin split across the young warlock's narrow face.
Will didn't join in with a smile of his own. Merlin sighed. He knew that Will and his brother had never gotten along and how mad it made his friend when Arthur pulled something like this.
Thankfully, by the time the boy's arrived at the stream it seemed that Will had dropped the subject. Merlin bent down to fill the bucket and once it was replenished he cupped his hands and took a long draw of cool water. The refreshing liquid quickly worked to sort out the terrible taste that had plagued his mouth, leaving him feeling fresh and in a much better mood.
Behind the raven-haired youth Will sucked in an annoyed breath. Merlin turned with a raised eyebrow to see what had caused his friend to make such a noise when he saw a familiar rust-colored substance staining some of the rocks.
"Oh." Merlin stated plainly, realizing that he had come to the exact spot where he had fallen the day before. The blood didn't bother the young warlock as much at it seemed to Will, who had fallen silent and gone visibly pale as he shook slightly.
Without thinking, Merlin felt his eyes flash golden and the stream suddenly diverted from its normal course to flow directly over the blood-stained patch of rocks. Will jumped back with a startled yelp as water washed over his old boots, soaking them through.
When the water had washed the rocks clean, Merlin let his grip on the flow go and watched as the stream returned to normal. He smiled wryly at Will who was still staring at his ruined boots, surprise evident on his face.
"A little warning next time you clotpole!" The surprised boy managed to squeak out. His voice was a good deal higher than normal from shock and Merlin couldn't help but begin to laugh at his friend.
Will was one of the only people in Ealdor, besides Merlin's own father, who just seemed to accept his magic for what it was. Not only did he accept it, but he also encouraged the young warlock along the way. Merlin smiled as he remembered the time that he had tried to make the sparks from their campfire turn into a galloping horse but only succeeded in creating a ball of flames that nearly set Will on fire. Of course his father had been there to help, instantly dousing the sandy-haired boy with water to put out the flames that had started licking at his tunic.
Merlin had expected Will to be mad, to say that they were no longer friends, to do as the other boys in the village had and call him a freak but instead the boy had just laughed and demanded that the young warlock do it again, because he wanted to see the horses.
Yes, Will had been more than just a good friend over the years and Merlin considered him to be as much of a brother as he did Arthur, which was probably why the other boy's hatred of his brother bothered him so much.
"My boots are soaked!" Will said angrily, his voice returning to normal. Merlin briefly thought about trying to command the wind to dry his friend's sopping footwear but decided that it was not a good idea, considering the last time he did so Will had been carried off by a surprise tornado and thrown nearly thirty feet away.
The boy instead simply shrugged and lifted more water to his bowed head and splashing it over his messy raven hair. There was suddenly a loud sloshing sound and Merlin felt water, cold as ice drench his neck and back. Shocked, the young warlock froze in place as Will chortled loudly behind him.
Recovering from the chill of the water, Merlin smiled darkly and whispered a few words into the stream. The water suddenly stopped flowing, like it was stopped by an invisible dam that caused it to gather in a growing pool directly in front of where the young warlock was crouched down.
"Wait no. Merlin! What are you doing?" Will cried out with panic when he noticed that the stream had suddenly run dry. The raven-haired youth did not answer; instead he stood up slowly and surveyed his relatively dry friend.
Will's eyes suddenly widened when he saw the pool of water behind Merlin, growing ever larger by the second.
"You wouldn't." The sandy-haired boy's eyes narrowed in challenge.
"Oh, I would." Merlin said coldly and, in a quick motion, commanded the water to rise up and shoot towards Will.
The water jumped out of the stream, hovered in mid-air for a single moment before splashing down on the Will's head. The boy tried to stop some of the liquid from hitting him by holding up the bucket that he had splashed Merlin from earlier but the sheer amount of water hitting him quickly put that theory to bed.
Unfortunately, Merlin realized that he had miscalculated just how much water to throw at his friend when, much to his dismay, the splash left him completely soaked as well. The boys stood there as the stream returned to normal, dripping wet and both in a state of shock.
"Serves you right." An older voice approaching made Merlin and Will both jump as they looked up to see Balinor walking slowly in their direction. Though his voice was firm there was laughter twinkling in his grey-blue eyes.
"Are you alright, Will?" Balinor asked the sandy-haired boy when he finally reached the pair. Will nodded, apparently still too shocked to speak. "Why don't you go home and get dry? I'll deal with this one."
Merlin looked pleadingly at his friend, realizing the lecture that was about to come. Will just sent him a glare and set down the bucket he had tried to protect himself with. Merlin knew that the other boy would not be mad for long but it still pained him that he had looked at him in such a way. He hadn't meant to make Will angry. He was just having a little fun.
Wordlessly Merlin watched Will take his leave and cross the short distance from the stream back to the village where for the first time the young warlock realized angry eyes were watching him from.
Balinor eyed his son carefully. Merlin knew could see several emotions well up in their grey-blue stare. Anger, amusement, annoyance, worry, just to name a few, drifted across his father's face.
"That was not a very nice thing to do Merlin." The raven-haired boy flinched at his father's tone. It was not anger, not hate, but something that made Merlin's heart ache with sorrow; disappointment.
"Father, I…" He started but stopped when the man raised a calloused hand to quiet him.
"Merlin I know that magic comes simply to you. I know that sometimes you cannot help how you use it. But using it for something like tormenting a friend is unacceptable. Do you understand?" Merlin could feel tears begin to well up in his eyes as his father spoke. He knew that he had done wrong; couldn't he see that he had already felt bad about what happened?
"Yes sir." The youth hoped that in his drenched state his father would not see the angry tears now pouring down his face. Whatever hopes he had of confronting the man about Arthur's state last night were dashed instantly.
"Will could have been seriously hurt! Do you even know the danger that you put him in just now?" Merlin felt his shoulders begin to shake and he struggled to control his breathing. It was just a prank. Nothing more. Couldn't his father see that he knew what he was doing?
"I had it under control." The boy protested weakly.
"That doesn't matter, Merlin. The point is that under control or not you cannot use magic on people like that! It's too dangerous!" Balinor's words softened slightly and he put a comforting hand on his weeping son's shoulder. His touch was firm yet understanding, but Merlin felt too ashamed to feel anything other than the disappointment in his father's voice.
He had expected to be struck by his father when the man moved in closer and was surprised when he suddenly found himself in the older man's strong embrace.
"Oh my boy." Balinor breathed into his son's raven hair. Merlin could feel his father shake slightly as something warm hit the top of his head. His father was crying.
Confused and still hurt, Merlin tried to break away from his father's embrace. He was soaking and knew that if he held the contact they would both be soon. But Balinor did not let go, he simply pulled the boy in tighter.
Despite being far too old to be held by another man, Merlin found his father's strong arms comforting and his familiar scent strangely cleansing. The boy slowly reached his own gangly arms around Balinor's back and clung to the rough fabric of his tunic, completely aware that a majority of the village would be watching the exchange by now and not caring one bit.
They held each other for a long time, both letting their sorrows go in the other's arms. When they finally pulled apart Merlin felt his cheeks turn red when he looked up and saw at least ten people gawking from afar, his brother among them. Balinor turned to where his son was looking to see what had made him turn redder than a ripe tomato.
"Hey! Quit your staring! Haven't you ever seen a father and son talking before?" He shouted in a gruff, tear-stained voice. The people jumped at his words and began milling about, obviously still looking their way.
Merlin laughed and sniffed. He wiped his face across a worn sleeve but the soaked fabric did little to help clear the tears, snot and remaining water from the stream.
"Come on; let's go get you cleaned up." Balinor chuckled at the state of the boy. Merlin guessed that he looked like a water-logged rat.
Grabbing the bucket, already filled with water to Merlin's surprise, the two began their short journey back to the village where the crowd had, thankfully, dispersed.
As they walked Merlin and Balinor said nothing. Any words that could have been shared had already been communicated in the emotion-filled embrace earlier. But one thing was obvious to the raven-haired boy- whatever his father had said or done to Arthur the previous night also involved Merlin, and whatever explanation he could have gotten from the man was now locked away tightly.
By the way: I feel like I need to say that I don't own Merlin or anything and no copyright intended so there.
Also a HUGE thanks to all who reviewed :)