Author's Note:
Hey guys! Sorry for the wait, I was under the impression that I had no wifi where I am, but apparently there is, so here you go! Hope you all are coping relatively well with that finale still; I know I'm still crying. Hope 2012 was a great year for you!
The morning of the execution came. Merlin had been watching the progression of the building of the pyre from his small window, checking every morning. Gwen came in with a last weepy sentiment. Gwaine did not, as Merlin's sleeping spell had ensured that he would wake up too late to try another rescue attempt. Gaius had come in the night before, and Merlin had spoken with him. He still didn't give him the details of his plan, but just expressed a need for some supplies, which Gaius delivered early that morning: three bottles of different potions and a dark cloak. He had also asked Gaius to leave a bag of more substantial supplies in the clearing where he usually met the Great Dragon. Gaius had said he did so, and gave Merlin a final hug goodbye. He would write to Hunith tonight.
Finally the guards came down to take Merlin to the cage that would deliver him to the pyre. Merlin allowed them to shackle him, lead him outside, and into the cage. They set off towards the court square and death.
Merlin kept his potions clutched close to him until the pyre itself came into view, when he unstoppered and downed the first and smallest bottle.
He was led out and up to the small stage, where he was the object of spectacle that the sea of faces surrounding him had come to see.
He opened the second bottle and poured the liquid into his mouth, but did not swallow. That would have to be while he was burning. The taste was vile, bringing back memories of tasting many of Gaius' concoctions, but he would have to live with that discomfort. Rather ironic really, he mused as they began to tie him to the pole in the center of the stage.
He then looked up at where Uther, and now Arthur, had stood watching the executions of the evil innocent.
"I, Arthur Pendragon, find you guilty of treason, and sorcery."
Merlin was determined to look at Arthur as long as he could. He would not break eye contact.
"You have been sentenced to death. The sentence is to be carried out forthwith."
Arthur turned to leave. No, thought Merlin. No, you clot pole, stay here and watch.
Swallowing enough of the potion to talk and make it not incomprehensible, he shouted, "You're not going to watch, Arthur? You're just going to go cower behind your throne of supremacy? Am I that beneath you, that you don't have to watch your best friend burn to death?"
Arthur slowly turned around, the square deathly silent.
"You dare call yourself my best friend?" he sneered. "You, a sorcerer, a traitor! A servant?! No, Merlin, never. But I will stay and watch, as a last favor."
He looked down upon Merlin with an icy glare full of hatred. Merlin returned the look.
"Light the pyre."
With that, the guard closest to Merlin and the stage lowered a torch. Soon, the flames flew up and rose. They became higher than Merlin's head. Merlin did his best to control his sudden panic as soon as the flames had first started to spread, but all the while he stared at Arthur. Wasn't this why he had never told Arthur? Because this was what he was afraid of? But when the moment came, he knew he wasn't going to die. He knew that a mere fire couldn't kill him.
He began to notice Arthur's face seemed to change. It became softer, the old compassion and sadness began to replace the hatred and betrayal. Was that… remorse on the king's face? Or was it horror? Arthur had seen his fair share of people burned at the stake, but never a friend of his. Never someone as close as Merlin.
Merlin kept up his staring, and, when feeling the intense heat of the fire, realized he still needed to swallow the rest of his potion. As he did, a cooling sensation overcame his body, suddenly becoming completely impervious to the flames. He noticed that his skin appeared to be burning though; all the signs of someone dying from fire were there. He did his best to fake a face of pain, but let out no scream. He writhed while tied to the pole, shriveling in fake agony. Eventually he stopped. Actually, the potion kicked in and slowed his heart. He was all but dead, still conscious, but unable to do anything, to control his body in any way.
The fire died down and the people began to disperse, going about their normal day as usual, as though a young man had not been killed before their very eyes that day, the stench of burning flesh not bothering them.
"Light the pyre."
Arthur had been vaguely aware of his surroundings the past few days. He had tuned out his knights talking about Merlin; he barely noticed that his room was not shared by anyone. He did not listen to the arguments and cries of Gaius and Gwaine and Guinevere; Gwaine had threatened to renounce his knighthood. He honestly had stopped caring.
But as he watched the flames spread, he saw the panic flash in Merlin's eyes before he had forced his own betrayal to show instead. He watched, and began to realize that that was Merlin, MERLIN, there, standing on the stage of the pyre, dying before his very eyes. What the hell was Merlin doing down there?! And suddenly the past four days rushed into his memory. Everything he had said, everything Merlin had said, everything that everyone had said to him flooded his memory, and he realized just how wrong he was. Why the hell did I sentence Merlin to death?! He honestly couldn't remember what his thoughts had been when making that decision. Assuming he had made that decision.
An idea came to him; he wasn't planning on killing Merlin. Why had he done so? The only explanation he could think of was enchantment. The only sorcerer he knew, though, was burning in front of him, staring him down. Then what…?
Merlin's face had become contorted in pain. He began to writhe and struggle against his bonds, but no sound escaped him. His skin shriveled and blistered. All the while, he just kept staring at Arthur with a burning look, almost into his soul.
Then, suddenly, all movement stopped. Arthur saw as Merlin's deadened eyes stared, unseeing, still at the King. The people began to leave.
King Arthur Pendragon stood there for hours after the square and Merlin's body had been removed, horrified at what he had done.
Author's Note: Happy New Year!