'Tis a wee bit angsty, this one! But hopefully it is the good sort of angst the Merlin fans search for so very ravenously. Yum yum. More to come!
Arthur stood, dumbfounded. The bellowing sound of furious townsfolk registering as nothing more than a muffled ringing, and Gwaine's shaking of his shoulder no more than a result of the afternoon breeze. It was Hunith's shrill screaming that successfully grabbed his attention.
"Merlin, don't do this! Get away from him now! Away, all of you!"
She was held back by two burly men as the rest of the mob shoved Merlin onto the ground. Arthur saw Gwaine's face contort with rage as he abandoned all knightly pretenses and shot forth like an animal, savagely fighting tooth and nail to get to his young friend, who was now being kicked around like a brittle doll.
Arthur shook his head. "Enough!" he shouted. The chaos continued, and he felt his heart race a little as the realization set in that his closest friend was in very real trouble.
"ENOUGH!" The prince moved forward. "I COMMAND YOU TO CEASE!"
Enough of the townspeople looked up at that to allow Gwaine the chance he needed to drag the bloodied Merlin aside. One of them stepped forward, face red.
"This isn't your kingdom to command, Arthur of Camelot!"
"My father has his own methods for dealing with magic, as you all well know, and the sorcerer is a resident of our kingdom. He will be dealt with by King Uther.
Merlin looked up, blood trickling from his nose and mouth and a great deal more from a wound on his head. The sorcerer? He felt his stomach twist. All of his greatest fears were coming true in that moment. His secret was out, and Arthur had turned against him. The prince, the man Merlin had sworn to protect, would see his father's laws upheld and his manservant punished by fire.
He felt all of the fight go out of him as Gwaine dragged him to his feet, the knight supporting most of the warlock's meager weight. Arthur moved towards them, his eyes fixed on the crowd. For the moment, none were advancing.
"Word of this will reach our own king," the same villager spat.
Arthur gave him a single stern nod. "King Lot can take it up with my father, should he not agree with how the boy was dealt with. We will leave you all in peace. Go back to your homes and consider the matter closed."
The prince's voice was steady and direct and at once the assembled townspeople began to disperse, apparently contended that the smiling boy who had grown up among them would soon be burned alive. The last and angriest of the villagers remained to scowl, finally releasing Hunith to scramble after her son.
"Go collect our supplies and our horses," Arthur muttered to Gwaine. "We'll have to leave at once."
Gwaine obeyed, but he gave Arthur the same scowl the people of Ealdor had given Merlin. Off to his side, Hunith had her only child caught up in a tight embrace. Merlin was feebly hugging back, and there was a glazed look in his eyes. She pulled back and fussed with his injuries.
"Why would you do that Merlin? Why?" she sobbed.
Merlin simply shook his head. It took him a long while to bring his gaze up to meet hers. "How could I not, mother?"
"I'm coming with you!" Hunith turned to face the prince. "I'll not see him mistreated! I'll speak to the king of this! Merlin's done nothing wrong, nothing—"
"You'll stay here," Arthur snapped back. "Trying to defend a magic-user in Uther's court will only assure that you join Merlin on the pyre."
"Then so be it!"
"Mother, no," Merlin winced. "You must stay in Ealdor. Please—I'll... I'll be all right. You have to stay."
Hunith shook her head, eyes wide and alarmed. The prince turned to her, taking her gently by the arm, and steered her off back toward the house. Merlin couldn't bring himself to watch. It was likely the last time he would see her. He slumped to the ground, exhausted and sore, and sat there in a daze. He couldn't say how much time had passed before Arthur and Gwaine were coming back, leading the horses.
"Arthur..." Merlin tried, but his voice was choked. The prince passed him by without a second glance.
"Now's not the best time, mate," Gwaine said under his breath. He pulled Merlin up and wiped the blood away from his friend's eyes. A few moments later, the three were riding away from Ealdor in silence, Merlin flanked by the only two people left in Camelot he'd been sure he could depend on the most.
The thick silence lasted the rest of the day. Merlin's normally rushing mind had come to a halt. He was facing the end now, so nothing more really mattered. Magic had constantly threatened Arthur, magic had, under the guise of being used for good, tried to save him time and again, but magic had only made things worse. Magic had killed far too many, and ruined the lives of many others, Merlin's chief among the list of those affected. He supposed he could easily use it to save himself from the fire, but what then? Where would he go, without his purpose and his destiny? No. If this was to be his punishment, then he would accept it. Whatever hope he'd had left in him had fizzled away.
They made camp in a small clearing, the old trees close and suffocating. Merlin dutifully made a fire and fed the horses before sitting himself down away from the others, legs drawn up close under his chin.
Gwaine looked over from his task of unwrapping the provisions. "Merlin, mate. Come have some food."
Merlin shook his head. When no other requests followed, he assumed that was the end of it. Then abruptly, Arthur appeared in front of him and shoved a plate of bread and fruit at Merlin's scrawny leg shield.
"Eat. I won't have you starving yourself again over this, Merlin."
The tone of his voice was devoid of hate, but the warlock was wary. He curled further into himself. "Why waste it? I'll be dead soon anyway. Less of me to burn, in the end."
Arthur stared at him, almost sorrowfully. This was quickly followed by the prince cuffing him in the side of the head. "I'm not going to burn you, you idiot."
"Ow! What?"
"Do you honestly think that I believe you—Merlin the bumbling, useless servant—could be some great and powerful sorcerer? If I'm to punish you for anything, it'll be for assuming I'm that stupid."
Merlin blinked, his blank mind having gone even blanker. "You're not going to kill me?"
Arthur laughed. "For saying something foolish to save your mother, Merlin? Who do you take me for? I would have done the same. Most men would."
Merlin felt the urge to smile, but he was still too surprised. "What about my mother? She's going to think I'm heading back to Camelot to die—"
"I talked with your mother. She agrees, Camelot is the safest place for you. For whatever reason, the people of Ealdor think you're some sort of cursed monster. You can't go back there, Merlin. Ever. You understand that?"
The servant nodded. The vacant expression returned. Arthur knew he was back to thinking again.
"Stop that. It's over, Merlin, and you're both safe."
Merlin sighed, still feeling uneasy and sick over the whole ordeal. Arthur stared at him. The prince wasn't leaving. Clearly something was still bothering him. Far off, Merlin heard it again—the evil laughter. Mocking laughter.
"Safe enough, in any case. You're no sorcerer, Merlin, but I don't think you're entirely innocent."
The laughter grew louder. Merlin's eyes darted. "Wh-what do you mean?"
Arthur turned and rummaged through a little bag at his waist. He held out his hand, palm up, and Merlin's heart stopped. In the prince's possession were the little forest berries collected several days ago; the berries that had supposedly been ground into a paste and used to cure Gwaine's burns.
"How did you cure Gwaine?" Arthur's blue eyes locked themselves on his servant, awaiting an explanation. Merlin's mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
"Was it a spell? I know of Gaius's past, Merlin. Did he teach you some healing incantation? Did you find a book and think to try it out? This was not some miraculous recovery. And it backfired, didn't it? Liaddus—"
"No!" Merlin's mind finally picked up and fired off running. One moment he was facing death, and then he was safe, and now similar accusations were flying at him once again. Surely Arthur would forgive him for resorting to magic to save a close friend? If Arthur could understand risking his life to save a loved one, couldn't he accept that Merlin had done the same for the knight? No, no, he couldn't let Arthur know. He couldn't admit to having any grasp of magic. He had to maintain that image of the bumbling, useless servant. Especially now.
"I didn't do it. Not me directly..." he sighed, a lie forming in his head. Arthur frowned.
"Who did it then?"
Merlin said the first name that made sense. "Liaddus. He said he could cure Gwaine. I—I didn't know what else to do, Arthur. He wanted gold. I told him you'd pay if he'd fix Gwaine. I didn't know it was going to be magic—I was desperate—and then it worked... and the death... I—something went wrong."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "That's why you've been acting so strangely."
"Y-yes. That's why." Merlin averted his gaze. "Gwaine's my friend, Arthur. I couldn't let him die like that."
A long moment passed. Arthur pursed his lips, expression still unhappy, mulling over the information. Eventually, he nodded and shuffled to his feet. "I understand why you did it Merlin, and I'm glad Gwaine came out of it okay."
Merlin sensed a 'but' forthcoming.
"But," Arthur glared, "promise my gold to anyone again and I will bring you before my father for punishment."
Merlin's blood was running cold now. His heart was fluttering. He gave a meek nod in response.
"Now stop being a girl, Merlin, and eat something. You're pale as a sheet. I don't want to deal with you falling off your horse tomorrow and breaking your neck, even if that will likely save me a small fortune in the future."
Arthur trudged back to the fire, leaving Merlin in more of a state than he'd started in. As the warlock moved a trembling hand toward the bread, the laugh sounded once again, sharp and painful in his head. Fighting back a sob of sheer frustration, Merlin buried his head in his arms and shook.