The night had been a restless one for the young king, having fallen into a shallow sleep long hours after going to bed.
He slowly opened his eyes, surprised that the sun was already shining strongly despite the thick drapes, and frowned as he remembered that his manservant turned secret sorcerer wasn't there to wake him up. It felt strange, unnatural.
Still trying to figure out what would have to be done about Merlin, he pulled clothing from his wardrobe and put it on, angrily fighting with his shirt's laces. He might not be able to trust Merlin anymore, he regretted, but he would refrain from taking a decision until he heard him out.
His queen had already left his chambers, having neglected to wake him up. He wondered if she had done so because she was still upset or because she had noticed his difficulties finding sleep and simply wished him to sleep longer.
Probably a bit of both. He held no doubt that he would find her in the physician's chambers.
His assumption was unfortunately proved wrong when his chamber's door flew open. A panicked Gwen stormed into the room, hair in disarray and skin glistening with sweat.
"They are killing him!"
Shocked, he dropped the jacked he was about to put on and gaped at her, unsure of who his wife was talking about but already dreading the answer.
"Merlin! You told me he was to be released!" cried out Gwen in an accusatory tone.
"He was! Tell me where he is!" asked Arthur, already pass Gwen and halfway through the doorway.
"The courtyard!" he heard her call loudly from behind.
The king's launched himself in a mad run through the castle, dodging startled servants, almost knocking a guard over when he turned a corner. He rushed down the castle's stairways, navigating corridors quicker than anyone had ever done.
As Arthur finally reached the door, his heart fell at the sordid sight of the burning pyre.
He was petrified, unable to do anything but to stare slack-jawed at the dark smoke rising from the pyre and blocking the bright rising sun. Vicious pangs of grief tore through him, the cursed anger of the previous day gone in flames. Gwen eventually reached him, gripping his arm hard with shaking hands as she witnessed the horrid scene in front of her.
She wailed in despair. "No! Merlin. No, no, no…"
Arthur clasped his arms around his wife to keep her from falling to her knees but couldn't tear his eyes away from the fire. The sight would haunt him for the rest of his days. This was his doing. He had condemned the kindest soul, the bravest man he had ever known, his closest friend, to this horrible death. All for being something he had never tried to understand.
Then, he saw him through the thick grey smoke. Merlin. Bound and unconscious but still seemingly whole.
Next to him, Gwen gasped and tensed. She had seen him too.
The king sprang into action, dashing franticly down the stairs.
His mind was engaged by a single thought. The fire had not yet reached the stake at the centre of the pyre, there might still be a chance for Merlin.
He grabbed that hope and made his way through the foul crowd who would see his servant burn, cursing because he knew it was taking him too long to get to Merlin. He ruthlessly pushed anyone that was in his way, insensible to the indignant shouts.
As he finally reached the foot of the pyre, smoke filled his nose, smelling of burning wood but mercifully not of burning flesh. He leaped on the platform, distantly discerning Gwen's devastated screams from the crowd's horrified cries at seeing their ruler jump in a roaring fire.
He expected blinding heat. Instead, shocking cold found him as hammering rain hit, soaking him thoroughly. The shining September sun that had been mocking him mere instants earlier was now nowhere to be found.
Barely able to see through the downpour, he finally reached Merlin. The young man was limp and unresponsive, his head sagging against his chest, his bonds the only thing keeping him upright. Rope, not chains, he noticed thankfully.
"Please don't let me be too late" silently implored the king as he cut the rope with a powerful strike of his dagger. His servant fell at once but Arthur was ready to catch him, crouching down to carefully fling the falling man over his shoulder. He readjusted his grip on his friend, willing him to be alive, before carrying him back down.
Arthur gently laid Merlin out on the wet pavement and wiped the rainwater from his own eyes. He could only stare in pure horror at his broken friend, whose body was covered in red and black.
The sound of the falling rain was drowned by the young king's desperate screams for the physician.
TBC
Another short chapter, but the next ones will be longer