The Bonds of Friendship
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC, only the storyline belongs to me
This is the penultimate chapter - the last one which will draw up all the rest of the loose ends will be up in the next few days :)
Thankyou so much for the people that have reviewed and the people who have favourited or put it on story alert, and to those people who aren't logged in so I can't reply to, a very special thank you - it all means so much to me xx
I hope you enjoy it x
Weaving Words
The morning sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, the blackness of night slowly melting away and the shadows of the castle lengthening across the courtyard in the dawning light; drawing a blanket over the pyre that sat forbearingly on the cobble stones.
The light rose up along the castle wall and hit a window causing a streak of reflected white to pass over the glass, highlighting the haggard, hollow-eyed face staring emptily at the collection of wood below.
Arthur could hear the forced light-footed steps outside his room as the servants began their duties, all purposely manoeuvring through the corridors with as much silence as possible to ensure they didn't wake the prince on passing.
But they were unnecessary actions on this dawn; the untouched bed and stiffness of Arthur's legs showing that the man had not found one second of sleep since being locked into his chambers. The night instead spent with pictures of Merlin burning and screaming, his blackened lifeless body being taken down from the pyre, his accusing eyes staring at him as the flames lashed at his body saying 'This is your fault'.
These images had also been visiting hand in hand with the secondary thoughts that showed his own lifeless body.
Will I feel the flames alongside Merlin? Or will I just drop dead the moment the last breath leaves his body?
Personally he felt that if he was fated to die alongside his friend he should have to feel the same amount of pain, I at least owe him that for everything he has done for me.
But this just brought on another flood of fantasies; Merlin's skin burning against the bite of flames, him lying on the floor desperately trying to escape the non-existent fire, their screams mingling together in the silence of the courtyard…
Arthur screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to force out the nightmares running around his mind, he couldn't allow himself to feel the pain and fright that the images brought as his friend didn't deserve to be put through the extra emotions in his already terrified mind as he lay trapped in the dungeons.
A shaky sigh escaped his lips and his head fell against the cold glass, hoping the sharp temperature would help jolt a plan, any plan into his head. So far his only course of action was glaring at the pyre as if it would disappear under his burning gaze.
What am I supposed to do? He begged to the room which had recently become his singularly forced company.
Letting his gaze slip from the execution spot, it was automatically drawn to the only other two sources of light in the dim morning sky; the two fellow windows were placed opposite each-other on upper levels of the castle, both containing dark outlines that showed the prince wasn't the only one with an interest in the pyre.
Arthur's knuckles turned white as his father's face flashed under a stroke of the rising sun's rays, his ever blank expression retaining the belief that the man had no heart; the only reason he's awake will be to make sure Merlin doesn't escape, he spat, turning his head away at the sense of betrayal from his own flesh and blood.
But the second shadow that drew Arthur's eyes filled him with a pure hatred. Even through the distance the prince could see the self-satisfied smirk playing on Cirion's lips as he gleefully gazed at the pyre; clearly he's not been able to sleep because he's so sickly excited about Merlin dying!
Arthur felt his hand moving to the hilt of his sword that lay on the table next to him as he glared at the King; he had been lucky to leave with his life at the earlier meeting and now it was only the image of Aurea that was preventing Arthur from escaping his room and silting the man's throat; he's lucky I care about his son!
The 'meeting' Arthur's mind was drawing back into had been more of a pointless argument that had only achieved him being locked under guard in his chambers rather than an opportunity to fight his friend's case. But his father had listened to none of his pleas and had set Merlin's execution indefinitely, which in turn had unknowingly set his own.
Yet despite the decision lying on Uther's shoulders; it was Cirion who managed to become the recipient of the main aspect of Arthur's anger. The sly King had fought him at every word, throwing a blockage at all of Arthur's attempts at being reasonable with his father - plus the smug look on the man's face had done no extra favours.
The prince had finally managed to convince the soldiers securing him that he was safe to release, although it was more threatening than convincing as Arthur's steel gaze and chilling voice knew no bounds when being held against his will. The moment the frightened pairs of arms loosened their hold he had shot in the direction that Merlin had been dragged; hoping that the boy had put up enough of a struggle so that he was still on the courtyard rather than down in the dungeons, which were slightly harder to infiltrate.
Unfortunately the fates were against him and Arthur ran onto the open area to find it empty; with no sign that there had even been an army of soldiers forcing a skinny boy across the stone ground a few minutes prior.
Arthur hands clenched into fists and he brought one up to his mouth, biting sharply on the knuckle to silence a cry of rage which would have only caused unwanted attention in the eerie silence of the night.
I need to get him out of the Kingdom, it was the only course of action that would end with them both still breathing, and it shouldn't be too hard; our dungeons haven't exactly got the best track record.
But on sneaking a glance around one of the pillars of the open-air corridor to check on the state of the door that led down to the dungeons he cursed on seeing that it had two guards placed stiffly outside; sharpened spears forming an x in-front of the un-kempt wood.
The one time my father decides to actually guard a prisoner! Arthur knew just from the sight of the two men that it would be impossible for him to reach Merlin, let alone get him out. Normally those under arrest would simply have a couple of guards standing watch outside the cell as they waited for their execution; although realistically this translated to a couple of guards drinking and gambling somewhere in the area near the cell.
The lack of discipline on the dungeon guards behaviour was the reason that the warning bell ended up ringing nearly every time someone was thrown into a cell; it was such an occurrence that on the night following an arrest, the soldiers of the castle would sleep at their posts rather than going home as they knew that they'd most likely be spending their resting time chasing after the escaped prisoner.
But on the nights that guards could be seen at the entrance to the staircase leading to the dungeons; the soldiers would gratefully leave to sleep in their own beds for the short time, knowing that two guards at the worst escape route from the cells meant that there would also be a collection of armed men at every other access point throughout the castle; especially at the grate at the edge of the forest. It was commonly mentioned among the men that if they set up a permanent camp by that tunnel they would never lose another prisoner; but nobody warmed to the thought of living in tents on the cold, prickly forest floor so the idea or knowledge of the popular escape route was never mentioned to the King.
Arthur let his head fall back against the stone pillar, allowing himself a moment to draw his mind out to his friend; he could feel his nerves and annoyance at the situation along with the typical Merlin concern for the prince's well-being, but otherwise he seemed fine. Lowering his breath, Arthur sent out a quick wave of confidence to the warlock which was returned with a spark of hope and trust; using the emotion and feel of his friend's reliance to spur him on, Arthur braced his body and mind before forcing himself to leap out of the outer corridor and sprint towards the council chamber, if escape's not possible, then I guess I'm left with the legal route.
He ran through the torch lit corridors without hesitation, his mind containing a permanent map of the castle leaving no need to consider the quickest path to reach his destination. Usually the council chamber would be locked at this late hour but Arthur knew his father, and Uther would want to be on full alert as he wouldn't trust anyone to keep the arrest of a sorcerer under control bar himself; well apart from his son but seeing how he was currently sprinting to plead the release of said sorcerer, he hardly applied.
Just as Arthur reached the heavy doors a slither of common sense managed to creep through his blind instinctive nature when it came to situations that angered him and he uncharacteristically reined in his habit of dramatically bursting into rooms before confrontations; those forms of entrances haven't done me any good so far.
Closing his eyes he concentrated on bringing forward his over-used blank prince façade. As the seconds passed Arthur could feel his features erasing the anger and panic from his face and drawing together to highlight an interested yet not overly-concerned expression.
Feeling more clear-minded towards the conversation he was about to invoke the prince calmly opened the wooden door and slid through the gap, gently closing it behind him as an extra precaution to not come across as angry or unreasonable.
Uther stood at the end of the long table, his back turned to the door and his hands firmly clasped behind his body; Arthur noticed his shoulders tense at the sound of the door closing, obviously waiting for an outburst of threats and abuse from the voice of his son but when none came, the King cautiously turned to face the prince, a questioning look in his eye.
"Arthur…"
But the prince cut off the beginning of a scolding tone and bowed his head with a humbling grace, "Father, I must apologise for my actions, I directly ignored an order and carried out my own selfish desires to go on a hunting trip. I realise that what I did was disrespectful and I will willingly take any punishment that you see fit."
Arthur had to hold back a laugh at the astounding shock on the King's face, clearly not expecting his son's three day absence to be the conversation opener; just ease him into it…
"Well I'm glad to hear that," Uther slowly replied, the internal monologue he had prepared for his son's anger becoming useless with the sudden use of respect, "Although under the newly arisen events I don't think a punishment is needed."
Arthur's polite smile became slightly more forced and he let out a tight laugh at his father's flippant mention of his friend's impending murder, "Yes… the arrival back was quite a shock, but I don't believe it's fair for my decisions to be blamed on someone else; my actions mean my consequences. I fully understand your judgement to have my manservant arrested for sorcery as it is indeed the quickest route for punishment but how will I grow as a prince if I allow others to take the fall for my mistakes."
He could see the confusion in his father's eyes at his apparent naivety towards why Merlin was set for execution, but Arthur was trying a new route of getting his point across; confidently declaring his opinion that his friend was being arrested as punishment for the forbidden hunting trip rather than true sorcery subtly drew forward that he would never even dream of his manservant being a sorcerer, at least it should have a better effect than screaming Merlin's innocence like I normally do.
Then, for the first time in Arthur's life; he didn't get a reply.
But unlike previous times when it would be because his father had stormed out of the room or decided that his son's comments were just not worth his time; this silence was due to the fact that it actually seemed as if Uther was contemplating Arthur's words.
The prince relished in the silence, only just stopping himself from punching the air in triumph as a spark of hope for Merlin and his own life lit.
Suddenly a sharp pointed cough echoed off the walls and Arthur's head snapped around to witness a sight that drew up a hammer and began to violently batter his hopeful attitude.
Cirion smirked as Arthur caught his gaze; casually leaning against a pillar by the entrance, the look in his eyes showed that he'd been in the room for the entire time. As Uther glanced at him in response to the cough the eavesdropping King's face rapidly melted into a mask of sympathy and he threw the prince an annoyingly convincing sad smile, "Arthur, I don't think you realise," he sighed, even throwing a 'poor boy' look at Uther, "Merlin's arrest isn't to do with you going hunting without permission, it's because… unfortunately – he truly is a sorcerer."
The performance he was watching was definitely explaining to Arthur how nobody but him had yet seen through his lies; he was a frustratingly good actor. Even he could almost believe that the man was actually torn by Merlin's upcoming execution.
"Although we realise that you would never dream that your manservant could be holding such a secret…" the sentence continued with a knowing glance which Arthur fought to not externally react to; shoot he knows my game.
"…But it has been drawn to our attention by a witness that it is sadly so."
Arthur frowned at the mention of a witness, the new fact changed the level of play as he was suddenly no longer sure of the cards the King held; does Cirion actually know about Merlin's magic or is it just one of his well-formed lies, where this time he is unknowingly correct in his accusation?
He turned back to his father who was easier to read and more predictable regarding his higher knowledge, but he mentally cursed on seeing that his gaze no longer held contemplation and was set back to a determined sorcerer blood lust following Cirion's reminder on why he'd arrested Merlin.
"Well who is this witness? And how reliable are they?" Arthur asked, directing the questions to his father.
But it seemed Cirion had suddenly become Uther's mouth as he replied instead, "He is one of my citizens and I can ensure he is one of the most trustworthy men I know."
Arthur glared at the talkative man before turning back to his father, taking a deep breath to attempt to control his rising anger, "Does this man have a name or any background information?"
"I would rather keep him anonymous, for his own protection." This time the prince refused to look at the hassling King in fear of punching the man, but he could still feel his hands already balling into fists.
Releasing a sharp draft of breath Arthur attempted to converse with his father yet again, "So what were the circumstances that this witness saw?"
And unsurprisingly a hand fell on his shoulder from behind and the unfortunate familiar voice followed, "A few months ago my citizen was passing through a forest and happened across a fight occurring between yourself, a group of bandits and your apparent incapable manservant…"
Arthur flinched at the King's words, his mind knowing the exact incident that the man was referring to; the day of the reveal.
Cirion's grip tightened at the prince's reaction and he flicked a curious glance over the brief flash of panic on the boy's before it was reined back to its blank setting; a spark of realisation suddenly hit the King from the moment of control loss and an accusing eyebrow raised in surprise, so Goldey knows of his little pet's magic…
Cirion's mind only took a couple of seconds to come to this new gold-mine of information, leaving only a slight pause in his sentence before he continued, although this time with slight more malice in his tone, "He saw you bravely fight more numbers of men than possible for any mere soldier, but he spoke of how you easily had the upper-hand and were in need of no help; plus as a lowly un-trained farmer he felt that if he were to get involved he would become a hindrance rather than support."
Arthur turned to glare at the King as he thickly layered on his compliments, all to clearly hide the blatant lies and excuses hidden among them; I can't believe my father has actually brought this!
"But then he momentarily averted his eyes from the wonders of your fighting abilities and spotted a helpless weak boy, your manservant, watching the scene from behind a tree. He was confused as to why the boy wasn't aiding you as he assumed he must be some form of servant but these questions were cast from his mind as he witnessed a fiendish villain running to attack the boy from behind and he was about to shout a warning when…"
Arthur had to fight to hold back an eye-roll at the man's over-theatrics but clicked his knuckles as he impatiently waited for him to finish his climatic yet pathetic gasp of breath before announcing, "The boy spun around, his wild eyes flashing a threatening gold and his hand violently thrust towards the approaching victim,"
The prince released a sarcastic mutter of shock at Cirion's sudden change of heart for the bandit but it went unnoticed.
"And with a shout of a string of demon sounds the poor man went flying through the air, cracking his head on a sharp rock as he landed… killing him instantly."
Cirion ended with a whisper, spreading his hands out in a slow sweep as if he had just finished telling a folk legend around the campfire. Arthur's mouth gaped open in disbelief to how fantasied the witness story actually sounded, he turned to his father, expecting him to have the same expression about him but somehow the man was actually nodding his head in grave understanding; am I the only sane royal in this castle!
Arthur's head snapped back and fore between the two men, his mouth uselessly remaining slacked open as the ridiculousness of the whole situation barricaded the output of the numerous phrases that were swirling in his head.
But as the seconds of silence passed the prince began to analyse the story Cirion had fed them, I know that's not what happened… yet his description of Merlin performing magic was correct; minus the negative adjectives – and he did throw some of the bandits through the air – and one of them did smash into a rock when he died…
The sudden hints of truth in the supposed witness account began to edge Arthur away from the notion that Cirion was simply making everything up just to get Merlin executed, and he seemed so confident in what he was saying – does he actually know about Merlin's magic?
With this worrying question Arthur slowly looked back to the King, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head as he tried to read how much the man truly did know.
He got his answer when Cirion returned the expression with a smug grin and a dangerous fire in his pupils.
The two men held each-others gaze in a silent combat, neither taking in Uther's droning voice as he began to talk about something to do with the execution; they were playing a vicious game where Arthur attempted to figure out what else Cirion was hiding, while the other kept his cocky features firmly lit to block off any clear information being read.
I can tell he knows something more, and he knows that I haven't worked out what that is. He's cocky in the fact that he has the upper-hand… but what other card has he –
A thought struck his mind and his eyes widened in horror.
The witness isn't true but someone did see that fight – meaning if they saw Merlin perform magic they must have seen me…
He saw Cirion's mouth melt into a satisfied smirk as he felt the blood run from his face and his fears were confirmed as the King interrupted Uther's singular conversation and innocently asked with a clear daring under-tone, "Anything to add to that version of events Arthur?"
The prince mentally cursed as the hundreds of pointed statements that would show the clear holes in Cirion's tale from his witness scattered to the corners of his mind, he knows that I'm aware of Merlin's magic – I can't argue against his story without him revealing that to my father… he's trapped me.
Arthur's mouth barely moved as he forced out a, "No."
The small quirk of an eyebrow on Cirion's mocking face just called for the man to visit the force of his right fist; multiple times.
But Arthur had to force down his violent urges as he knew they wouldn't respond well with his father, and he was now the only person left whose view he could contradict.
"Father...," The prince began, his voice shaking slightly from the whelming emotions he was having to suppress, "Father, the account of one witness, an unknown man for that – it's logically not reliable enough to base a man's life on."
Amazingly Uther's voice actually came with the answer this time, although the message unfortunately followed that of Cirion, "Arthur, this witness is no stranger, he is a citizen of a good friend of ours so therefore can be trusted; I realise this reveal of betrayal is hard but you must accept it."
He could see that like every prior incident his father's mind had been clouded to any argument by the word 'magic', especially if he was willingly referring to Cirion as a 'good friend'. As the realisation that his words were falling on deaf ears hit him, his compressed rage towards Uther's prejudice, Cirion's scheming; Merlin's pain and the whole event that he'd been going through for so long began to claw up through his body and he snapped.
"I can't accept it because it's not true!" He shouted; the original plan of a calm discussion failing as his moral and personal opinions over-took his tactical traits.
Uther predictably responded to his son's insolence with matching anger, his cheeks flushing at being spoken to in such a manner in-front of another royal, the people who he had to keep a strong and fearing presence over to keep them under control; and the fact that it was Cirion made it all the more irritating.
"I do not care if you accept it, enjoy it, hate it or wish to spend the remainder of your days in the dungeons writing a beautiful list on all the reasons that you feel the law is not up to your standards! But that boy of yours has broken the most upheld rule of them all and on my word will he face the consequences!"
The King's fiery tone sliced through the air and normally Arthur's sensibility would tell him that his father had crossed over the line of his maximum tolerance and that he should back away slowly with no hope of convincing the man to do anything apart from what his mind was set on.
But this time, the prince had crossed the line right alongside his father.
"How do you call this a law," He manically laughed, throwing his hands up as if to poke at the holes in the flawed kingdom, "A law would mean that the suspected party would be put through a trial before the members of the council and judged for their crimes – you just grab anyone you please and throw them to the flames without a single word of warning! That's not the law – that's murder!"
"How dare you speak to me in such a way!" Uther roared with a voice only sounded for passing words with enemies, "That boy got the equivalent to a fair trial and his death will be for the good of my people and land!"
"Fair trial! He got no such thing – and you weren't planning to give him one! The pyre was already set up on our arrival!"
"His reaction was a trial enough!"
"What reaction!" Arthur screamed with a madness to his scratched tone, "He did nothing! There was not one spark of magic! If he were a sorcerer do you really think he would still be lying in your cursed dungeons right now?"
"The reason he is still there is because I know how to guard my prisoners!"
"Oh of course!" The prince venomously drawled, "Shall I just go and get all our ex-prisoners to come and congratulate you on what a wonderful job you're doing at keeping them under lock and key?"
The sharp cut of flesh hitting flesh snapped through the room and Arthur looked at his father in horrified disbelief; the deep red handprint on his cheek hiding the sight of the blood rushing from his face.
Uther leant in inches from his son's stunned face and roughly grabbed his collar, almost choking him as he prevented him from moving away from his furious expression.
"That is enough." The King hissed with a new coldness to his tone that actually sent a shiver of fear down the prince's spine.
A strong silence filled the wired atmosphere as father and son shared a gaze filled with a frantic wave of raging emotions that both had managed to carefully tread around in the past. The saying 'like father, like son' was one that described the small family well on the subject of anger, their slicing words and proud stubbornness set them as equals deserving of fear when of the same opinion, but catastrophic enemies when their desires conflicted. Usually one would grudgingly back down when such situations arose, neither brave enough to see where they would end up if the topic continued to be pushed from both sides; but finally a difference had appeared that had forced their hands to over-step that boundary, and it wasn't pretty.
The grip on Arthur's tunic wasn't being lessened and he fought to not squirm as the material dug into his skin as he didn't want to be the first to show weakness; with the lingering silence seemingly not going to be broken by his father due to the venom in his eyes, Arthur took the opportunity to attempt to bring some reason back to the King.
But unfortunately in the midst of their anger both men had forgotten about the third presence among them and it seemed that Cirion had decided that the moment he was clearly not involved in, was the moment he had to be a part of.
A pair of hands slid on top of Uther's tensed fists which were clinging to his son's clothing and he gave them a gentle squeeze, gently whispering to the two royals, "I'm very sorry, I really didn't mean to cause all of this trouble."
The quiet words shattered the raging gaze between the King and prince and two sets of eyes flicked to the persistent man, surveying him with disgust. Uther because he could hardly believe that the lowly man had actually dared to touch him, let alone push himself into an obvious private situation; and Arthur because the sentence that had just left the man's lips was bleeding with so much dis-honesty he could hardly believe the message that his son still wanted him to receive.
Uther was the first to recover and he snatched his hands from the hold of the King, his lip curling as he forced out a polite tone, "Of course not Cirion, it is only Arthur who has caused the trouble."
The prince didn't register the blame sniped on him, he was too focused on resisting the still increasing idea of killing the sickening King; the man had been building barricades at every word he had tried to say, even the fury his father now held for him had been lit by the royal and Arthur could take no more from him.
In one last attempt to try and find a way to save Merlin from the flames the prince called upon his only glimmer of hope, "I want to talk to Gaius."
A smug grin. A raised eyebrow. A fake apology.
"I'm sorry, my sister contacted me to inform that she was of weak health and without a physician; your father kindly sent Gaius to attend to her – he won't return for at least a week."
Arthur saw red; all his plans, all his tactics had been destroyed by the words of that man and all he could think was that Cirion might as well be running a sword through Merlin's stomach in cold blood, I don't care about promises – I'm going to kill him!
He lunged at the King with a rabid cry of pure hatred, his fists already on a path to his face when a rough order was barked and he found himself being held by four guards for the second time that night; his arms were snapped behind his back and his chest was being pushed away from Cirion, the holds staying firm despite his struggles.
"Take him to his chambers and do not let him out until I say otherwise!"
The guards began to drag him towards the door on his father's command, their grunts sounding as the prince fought against them like a wild animal. Suddenly he slacked in their grip and the shock of the loss of the opposite force caused them all to stumble; Arthur had Cirion by the throat as soon as the hold fell and he leant towards the man's ear, sharply hissing, "Hate me all you want; it will never change the fact that it was you who killed Aurea."
The guards were back on him in a second and shoved him off the startled King with all the violence used for a common criminal; Arthur let them treat him as such, loosening his body to allow them to easily drag him from the room because he had what he wanted.
Arthur took a moment of satisfaction at the flash of pure, honest pain on Cirion's face from his words before the wooden doors were slammed shut.
The prince smacked his hand against the window, the blank canvas in his head mocking him at his incapability to plan, think, achieve. He was famous for his instinctive nature of being able to get out of any situation flung at him; but now when he needed that trait the most, it was failing him.
With one more desperate look at the pyre, he forced himself to back away from the window and the painful realities it brought and he collapsed behind his desk; dropping his head onto the wood and re-starting the mental search for an idea – the waves of trust wrapping around his slumped body only intensifying his need for action, even now he leaves all his hope in me; he really is an idiot.
Footsteps pounded above Merlin's head, the hurried paces sending dim vibrations down the cold stone wall that he was hunched against; there was no question as to why the morning duties were more panicked that day.
The young warlock gave no response to the sounds that indicated that the night had escaped him; he remained curled up on the small splintered bed, legs hugged to his chest and chin resting atop, glazed eyes staring at the opposite wall with no indication of being aware of his surroundings.
Merlin hadn't shifted from the uncomfortable position since being placed in the dark empty cell in the early hours of the morning and it had drastically un-nerved the guards; if they hadn't had the reassurance of the gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest they would have be adamant that he was dead.
Neither guard felt comfortable with the duty that they had been assigned; Merlin was a good man, everyone knew that. He took the time to chat to all the castle staff, would help with a job that wasn't his if he had the time, for goodness sake he'd be helping even if he didn't have the time. And now the thought that they were going to be indirectly involved with the boy's death; it sent a punch of guilt straight to their stomachs.
Merlin didn't see the concerned and conflicted glances his two guards kept sending him; his body may have been trapped in the dungeons awaiting death, but his mind wasn't.
Similar to Arthur's habit when the warlock had been under Cirion's order for those three days, Merlin had pushed his mind fully into the connection on arrival and had spent the night letting his friend's emotions flood over him despite the prince's clear attempt to protect the boy from the less than hopeful feelings.
Due to this, he had been able to grasp the rough concept of what his friend's actions had included; a brief idea of a break-out, a full blown argument along with a near killing, although directed at which King he couldn't tell, and finally the poorly hidden defeat as the sun continued to grow on their death day.
A heavy streak of sunlight passed over Merlin's face through the tiny barred window and forced him to screw up his eyes and automatically flinch away from the sudden contrast to the dark room; snapping his mind out of Arthur's growing verge of a manic panic attack in his chambers.
The dull thud of the cell door opening followed the sign of the fully risen sun and Merlin slowly turned his head to look up at the pained faces of Sam and Owen standing in wait to escort him to the pyre.
Instinctively his magic began to rise at the sense of coming danger and for a moment he considered allowing it to release itself; it would be an easy escape, no casualties, no hassle, no execution.
No – I need to trust Arthur, he'll think of something.
Merlin knew that it was just a weak sentence full of false hope but he still used it to quell the twitching power within his body, and I can't risk it, what if I got shot or stabbed on route, then Arthur would die even quicker – at least if I leave it as a last minute option it still gives us a small chance to save ourselves without having to flee the kingdom.
A gentle cough broke through his thoughts and the warlock zoned back to the two guards, he could tell that they weren't happy about what they were having to do which was why he wasn't being forcefully dragged out to the main courtyard per usual.
With a resigned sigh Merlin sent his friend a last burst of confidence in hope it would help kick his mind out of the thoughts of their deaths and into the path of a plan before calmly stepping towards the door.
He gave both men a small forgiving smile as he passed through the door and it was returned with a guilty 'Sorry' from Sam and a comforting squeeze on the shoulder from Owen. They allowed Merlin to take the lead and fell in step either side a pace behind him, giving him the little they could by allowing him to keep his dignity in his final moments; the formation showing him as a respected man rather than some lowly criminal.
As Merlin took the route through the castle corridors the people of the building fell quieter with each step; everyone he passed stopped their activities to watch him walk by with his head high, back straight, shoulders braced and all without an ounce of fear on his face.
The awkward clumsy servant was gone and in his place walked a strong and powerful man.
Hands began to reach out to him; friends, acquaintances and strangers alike. Everyone wanted to touch him, pat him, stroke him and offer the small amount of comfort they could give; but also they wanted to say the unspoken words of, 'I don't agree with this.'
Merlin took all the out-stretched hands in his own, giving them gentle squeezes of gratitude and comfort for all the support and love he was being shown. It no longer mattered if Uther hated him, he knew the people held a place for him in their hearts and that was enough to keep him walking towards the pyre.
The stack of wood came into his sight but he didn't falter; the comforting hands increased as he made his way through the crowd and he broke his forward gaze to give small nods and smiles to the people that were showing pain on his behalf. He didn't bother looking up to the royal balcony; he could sense Arthur's fear for both of them coming from his chambers where he had obviously been locked to stop him from helping his friend.
I wonder how Uther would feel if he knew that those actions were setting his son's execution as well as my own this morning.
Unfortunately the realisation that Arthur wasn't going to be performing any last minute rescues meant the warlock had to start his own plan on how to get them both out of the kingdom, it will have to be the second before the torch lights the pyre, the moment he lets his guard fall; let Uther think he's won before throwing it all back in his face.
On reaching his execution stand a guard he recognised as Daniel appeared from the crowd and placed a stool in front of Merlin's feet, once again a sign to subtly inform the King that this decision wasn't to anyone's liking, and the warlock gracefully stepped up onto the pyre instead of having the normal demeaning treatment of being lifted onto the wood.
He couldn't help smirking at Uther's look of fury at the actions of his men.
Gareth, a young soldier who Merlin had once taken the blame for his mistake of not shutting the stable doors and allowing the horses to run havoc stepped up behind him and tied his hands to the wooden pole; the knots were loose and although they still held him in place, they gave him no discomfort.
The warlock whispered a thanks to the man, taking a second to fully appreciate all the actions he had just received from so many; allowing himself to enjoy the last time they would be willing to show such care for him, they'll all hate me when they find out the accusation of magic is true.
Shaking the thought away and shutting Arthur's desperation to the corner of his mind, Merlin lifted his head and met the King's gaze with a look that gave off the aura that it should be Uther looking up to him rather than the other way around.
He kept a knowing smile on his face as the man began to give the common speech about the evilness of magic as he knew it was infuriating the King even further; but he didn't listen to the words leaving the royals mouth, his concentration was set on the moment the magic roaring inside him would be released.
Arthur watched his friend stand firmly on the pyre with frantic eyes; we're going to die, we're going to die, becoming the running commentary in his head as the rope tied Merlin to the wooden pole.
He could feel the decisive waves hurtling from the boy, confirming his hunch that the warlock would be ready to use magic to save their lives despite him promising that he would keep the secret alive until Arthur implied otherwise.
It wasn't that the prince wanted to die; it was more that during the night he had realised that in the long run fleeing the kingdom with a sorcerer right before his father's face would create the same effect, if not a worse one, as being found mysteriously stone dead on his bedroom floor.
I'd most likely be dis-inherited, Merlin would have an automatic bounty placed on his head leaving our lives to become a constant game of hide-and-seek with the large collection of greedy money hunters, my father would go on a mass execution spree lying false blame on citizens because he wouldn't be able to handle my betrayal and due to this, if I did end up returning to take place on the throne after his death my people would probably kill me themselves for causing their lives to fall into an even worse state than they currently are.
In conclusion the future that would most likely come about from the current way Merlin was planning to fix the situation wasn't ideal.
Arthur was mentally screaming at his friend, shooting balls of disagreement at his mind to stop him from performing any magic, plastering every emotion under the sun at the boy to try and grab his attention; but from the oblivious expression and the none deceasing determination coming off the warlock, the prince could tell that he had been locked into a corner of Merlin's mind, why did he have to be the one with the ability to do that!
He slammed his hand against the glass in frustration, desperation and urgency swelling quicker in his stomach as he saw his father begin the execution speech, even if Merlin did listen to me; I still have no alternative plan!
Slamming down on his chair and shoving aside the plate of breakfast that had been left earlier his hands began to drum on the table; his body unable to remain still as his mind kept yelling at him to jump into some form of action.
Clutching his head he forced himself to take the situation in steps, I don't know how Merlin does this kind of thing under all this pressure on a weekly basis!
He responded with a self-inflicted sharp slap, this isn't focusing!
Right, he drew his thought track back to the situation, step one, get out of my room.
It was clearly a simple beginning but it did hold truth; he needed to get out of the chambers.
Which is an impossible task in itself; I can't even speak to the guards let alone get them to casually open the door to let me just waltz out!
His hands now pounding against the table as his mind ran into over-load accidently scraped the edge of the silver plate carrying his un-eaten breakfast causing it to clatter onto the floor, the small pieces of bread, which was more than he had expected, rolling to a halt next to it.
The abrupt noise had briefly spiked his attention and he cast a half-glance to the discarded plate, ignoring the useless accident; but suddenly he found his eyes slowly dragging back to the silver item as his thoughts began to gather from the mists onto one track and finally, a well-overdue flash of inspiration hit him.
Arthur dramatically tripped over his chair and sent it flying backwards as he collapsed onto the floor and quickly scrambled to shove the few pieces of bread into his tunic pocket before grabbing the empty plate and flinging himself towards the entrance to his room.
Catching his body just in time to prevent a collision with the solid wood, he carefully took a place up against the right hand door, slowly raising the plate above his head, his muscled arms braced, the guard on the left is the one who keeps coming in with my meals, for the sake of his life he better use the same side of the door he's used so far to come in.
Drawing a firm breath and trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible the prince lightly called out, "Guard, I'm done with my breakfast."
There was a click of a lock and then the slow movement of the left-side handle tilting to the side as the door was pushed open by the unprepared guard.
The second the man stepped into the room the silver plate crashed down on his head with brute force and he crumpled to the ground; the second guard jumped in shock but before he could even compute what had happened he was watching the prince's back disappear around the corridor corner.
Arthur's legs were on fire, he could not remember a time where he had been running with such speed; the stone corridors practically vibrated at the sheer force that his body hit the walls as he pushed around a corner and the few staff left in the building crashed to the side as they tried to jump out of the prince's path.
Merlin! His head was pounding from the strength of waves he was sending out as he attempted to gain his friend's attention, but the boy was seemingly better at shielding his mind than he had let on as he got no response to his mental shouts; just the ever-growing sense of the warlock's magic getting closer to condemning them to a life as fugitives.
A startled yelp sounded as a young maid and her pile of laundry went flying as Arthur collided with her arm on passing, a collection of the unwashed clothes landing on the prince but in his haste the new accessories went unnoticed.
The great door leading to the main courtyard finally came into view and just as Merlin's magic reached the brink of release he burst onto the top steps with a desperate shout of "Stop!"
The courtyard went silent as the cry echoed across the area, slowly fading out after a few quieter repeats until only the sound of the prince's heavy breathing was left.
Every head was turned in the direction of the entrance steps, each holding the same bewildered expression at the sight of the red-faced prince standing there with a manic glint in his eyes and an arrangement of dirty clothes on his head and shoulders.
Arthur stared at his people as they stared at him, this is where it would have been useful to plan step two in advance.
He shot a quick glance at Merlin; the warlock was studying him with a raised eyebrow and the emotions he was emitting gave the general sense of 'this is the plan I've been waiting for?'
Quickly moving his eye-line he risked a look up to where his father stood on the balcony, his hand still raised from where he had just been about to signal the lighting of the pyre; surprisingly the King's mouth was hung open in a fully shocked expression at the unexpected entrance of his son, explaining why the silence had yet to have been broken.
And now what do I do? Arthur knew that he was lucky not to already be back under restraint, it seemed an overly dramatic outburst did sometimes have its uses.
He already understood from his most recent experience that doing anything that involved anger was not going to gain anything, especially with the added lack of dignity he was currently displaying, but he also thought that continuing to stand in silence probably wouldn't save any lives either.
Then a small image came up from his memories; that brief moment when his father had actually listened to his words before Cirion had stirred up the anger; he didn't react until I clearly contradicted him…
"You realise these clothes need to be washed Merlin," Arthur stated in a tone used if he had been lounging in his chambers rather than standing before an execution, "And your dumber than I thought if you think I'm going to do them."
As he spoke he picked the mentioned items off his head and piled them into his arms while casually beginning to walk down the steps and towards the pyre.
He could still feel the blast of confusion firing from his friend but luckily Merlin didn't show this on his features and in his typical trusting Arthur manner, played along, "And do you realise that they're not your clothes; unless you've suddenly demoted yourself to the guard's attire." He dryly added.
Rolling his eyes Arthur stopped next to a soldier who was holding the left over rope from the strand that was currently tying Merlin to the pyre and handed him the pile of laundry with a grateful smile; in turn taking the rope from his grasp.
"Well I'll be demoting you to the pig pen if you don't watch yourself," He replied as he climbed up the stool and onto the foundation of wood alongside his now completely lost friend.
"Seeing as how I currently work for you it wouldn't take too much adjustment," Merlin returned, his face playing out the façade of a common banter session while he sent out emotions prodding at Arthur to give a hint at what on earth he was actually doing.
The prince smirked but didn't respond, instead focusing on tying his newly acquired rope onto his wrists and then proceeding to connect himself to the wooden pole that Merlin currently occupied.
This action was what suddenly managed to snap Uther from his disbelief, the obvious act of rebellion digging up a response where the casual talk had just blown over his head and his voice raged through the crowd, "Arthur what are you doing!"
At the shout Merlin faked a flinch so he could lean slightly into Arthur's arm, I agree with that question.
Hush, I'm trying to improvise step three, he unhelpfully answered.
"Father," Arthur raised his head to meet the fiery gaze of the King, ignoring the curious gazes of his citizens and blocking out Merlin's confusion he addressed his sole parent with the strong and controlled voice of a prince.
"You have spent so many years teaching me the ways to rule a kingdom, the need for law, the need for order and the need for discipline. I took in all of these lessons, studied them in hope to become as great of a ruler as you are one day, as I grew even began to practice some of them."
Taking a brief pause he was encouraged by the lack of shouting so continued with slight more emotion to his tone.
"But I couldn't pull off those methods to the same effect as you; your people may fear you but they still respect and love you. With me… well they just saw me as that annoying spoilt prat."
He smirked at the few nervous chuckles that lifted from the crowd of people.
"And I can't disagree with that because I was just a snarky prince who only cared about himself, I didn't see the point in thinking about the needs of the people I was supposed to rule one day. But then I was shown the light of my behaviour and taught that only caring about myself would never lead me to be a good King, that I would never earn respect and love through my manners."
Giving Merlin a sharp nudge in the side and rolling his eyes he sighed, "However much I really don't want to admit it because he's annoying enough without an inflated ego added on, Merlin taught me these things. He got me to meet the citizens and see why I should care for them and fight to protect them, the way I saw him get involved in all of their lives showed me that they were all people with needs as well as me and it enlightened me to the fact that we're all connected to each other through our love for our kingdom and home."
Spreading his arms out to include all the people watching him with a sense of awe and joy he gave his father a small smile, "Because when it comes down to it, if I can't protect my idiot manservant, how can I expect to protect my people; and if I can't protect my people, then how can Camelot continue to exist. However much we try to deny it, we are all connected to one another, peasant, solider, knight and royal alike because if we weren't – then we might as well be living separately in caves miles apart from anyone."
Scanning the courtyard he sent his last line to the citizens spread around him, "Because, what I have learnt over these past years is that Camelot isn't the kingdom… it's the people."
The second silence of the day fell over the castle but this time it was filled with pride rather than bewilderment; every man and woman was surveying their prince in a light of new found respect, seeing the evidence of the boy who had finally become the sight of a future King.
Arthur felt the flush of warmth grow within him at the response his spontaneous speech had drawn from the people, it gave him hope in the fact that he was destined to be a great King like Merlin had told him so many times; usually he would simply agree to ease his friends mind but for the first time ever, he actually believed it.
And if I have the power to be a renowned ruler, then I must be able to alter the opinion of the current one.
But on raising his eyes back to the balcony where his father stood all those positive emotions fled to the pit of his stomach as he felt his skin practically burn under the scrutiny of Uther's gaze.
Well you moved me, the warlock's voice jibed as he simultaneously noticed that Arthur's words had obviously only led to anger the King further.
Merlin I could have just given a speech on toadstools and you'd have been bawling, the prince automatically responded, his mind already flipping through all the half formed ideas he was scrabbling for from the back of his brain.
"Guards! Remove the prince and light the pyre!" Uther ordered through gritted teeth, clearly struggling to retain his indifferent façade with the display of disrespect to his leadership being thrown at him by his own son.
The guards surrounding the wood only shuffled their feet at the King's demand, throwing each other nervous glances, nobody wanting to be the first to go against the prince; especially after the speech that had admittedly made a lot of sense. But at the even more aggravated second bark the men reluctantly slouched over to the execution spot; none putting much haste into their approach.
Merlin cast a cautious wave at Arthur as the men, however slowly, did begin to surround them, look, I know you don't want me to use my magic due to that detailed future you've gone and planned out in your head but I can see that you have no other plan, and if it comes down to living in the forest or us both dying – well let's just say I'd sooner see myself picking berries if you don't mind.
Arthur wasn't listening, his eyes were flickering around the courtyard, I need a different angle!
How about an angle firmly in the middle of a forest! Merlin desperately asked as the first guard stepped onto the small wooden stool.
Think! He whispered to himself, what gets my father riled even more than sorcery?
I don't know but my magic's getting pretty riled by the proximity of this guard!
Something that will always gain his attention…
His attention? How about my attention! Guard about to grab you Arthur!
He loses all focus when somebody tries to kill me!
Which is what he's currently in the process of doing you –
"Cirion!" The prince's voice rang out with accusation brimming in the tone; sensing the opportunity to escape having to help continue with the execution proceedings the surrounding guards froze in their positions; the one who had his hand inches from Arthur's arm quickly snatching it away as if it had been burnt.
An echo followed the shout; the first wary but still with a layer of anger, the second confused and silent to the rest of the world and the rest a collective muttering of the unpopular King's name as to how he was involved in the situation.
There was a fourth sickly innocent voice with a dramatic gasp of 'Me?' but this one was taken little notice of.
Unsurprisingly it was the second repeat that Arthur quickly answered; yes Cirion, he knows about your magic and knows that I know, he's the one who got you arrested with some fake witness who apparently also knows but doesn't know I know which it why I know that it's made up because he does know, you know?
Merlin just responded with a befuddled look and an exasperated tone at the evidence of his friend finally cracking, what?
Huffing Arthur threw him a mental eye roll, never mind, just keep your mouth closed for once!
Ignoring his father, he pulled up a clear canvas expression and drew his head to where the over-stayed royal stood in his attention seeking finery watching them with a daring smirk on his face, "Cirion, I have some questions about this apparent witness of yours – if you don't mind," he coolly added.
It was clear that Uther was about to give his son an earful about his opinion on this comment but Cirion turned to the man and showing how much power he had managed to weasel during his stay successfully said, "Don't worry Uther, let the boy ask his questions – it may help give him some closure for his trauma."
Turning back he threw up a picture of condescending sympathy and gently asked as if speaking to a child on the verge of a tantrum, "Ask away lad."
Returning with a tight smile Arthur clicked his mind into action for the subtle battle that he was about to undergo, one chance…
"You claimed that this witness just happened to stumble across my manservant and I mid-fight that day correct?"
"Indeed," Cirion drawled, smug in his knowledge that the prince wasn't going to be able to compete with him when it came to weaving words.
He gave a sharp nod at the confirmation, "So he must be quite a brave fellow, most men wouldn't even dare think to approach the sound of a battle, least of all a mild farmer."
The King's eyes narrowed at the prince's lightly sarcastic tone, "Well I do pride my citizens for their hard nerves – take after their King you see."
"But of course," Arthur exclaimed, "Though it does seem strange that such a brave man, who clearly has a lot of concern for others if he took the trouble to come and enquire about the fight in the first place, and comes from under the reign of such a good-willed King wouldn't offer any help when seeing a lone man battling when vastly out-numbered."
A few whispers broke out in the crowd at the prince's statement and a sharpness could be sensed in Cirion's replying tone, "As I said, he felt that he would have been a hindrance."
"Well of course he would have been!" Arthur enthusiastically agreed, "He's just a farmer, how could he possibly have any knowledge about fighting or any of those petty things you learn when being a man of arms…"
His voice suddenly melted into a thoughtful tone and he tapped a finger to his chin as if something had only just occurred to him, "You know, when you think about it, it's quite surprising that nobody noticed another man arriving at the scene – the ability of stealth, especially in a forest is quite a fate to master, Merlin certainly hasn't learnt it despite the constant journeys he accompanies me on; even my knights take a while to perfect the silence…"
As if on cue the present knights eagerly nodded, enjoying the sight of the visiting King who only ever had scorning words for them tensing as their leader continued to speak.
"So it's quite strange that a farmer who has had no training and has no fighting ability could so easily sneak up on a group of trained men, even if they'd learnt through criminal means."
A faint clicking of knuckles could be heard as Cirion thinly replied, "There was a fight in play; it wouldn't have been exactly quiet.
"But there were men around the edge of the clearing who could have easily heard a man stumbling around in the trees," Cocking his head with exaggerated curiosity he asked, "You don't think I could have taken on a dozen men all at once and lived? Even I'm not that good; despite all of your charming compliments."
"That's because you didn't realise your manservant was attacking those other men through magical means," He snarled, not enjoying the way the conversation was playing out.
Here Arthur folded his arms and threw his own smug smirk at the King, "See that's the other thing I was curious of – everyone here knows that I am very protective of all my citizens, even the idiotic ones, I would willingly die for them which I have proved on many an occasion…"
Arthur where are you going with this? Merlin hissed, unable to read how his friend's words were going to aid them in anyway.
He was only rewarded with a throbbing foot from the prince's annoyance at being distracted.
"…Which is why nobody would be surprised by the fact that as I was fighting Merlin was firmly placed behind me, to shelter him from the attack; which also meant he was hidden from the few viewpoints in the surrounding trees – actually the only way this witness could have seen this supposed act of magic occur would have been if he was placed directly in the clearing alongside the bandits."
This time it was him who allowed a dramatic pause; he could now see the attractiveness of it, "Hence leading to the question – do you want to change any part of your story Cirion?"
The King was frozen as his own cocky confidence was thrown back at him; the tearing anger had now melted into pale nerves as the foundation of his plan was ripped from beneath his feet. Twitching his head to risk a glance at Uther who he was hoping was failing to see the logic in his son's words from his blind hatred for magic, he found himself receiving a shivering glare which made it clear that this was not the case.
A shaky laugh brushed through his lips but he quickly cut it off as a tense eyebrow lifted at the sound. Releasing a firm cough Cirion clutched onto his cracking façade of innocence and spread his arms to Camelot's King with a flickering smile, his tone trying to portray the turn of events as an amusing joke, "Uther my friend – believe me when I sincerely tell you that I had no desire to lie to you; I hold you in the highest of regards, but when I knew that your son – a boy I see as my nephew – was in danger; well I felt that a small error in my witnesses account would cause no harm in the route for justice and safety…"
He stumbled on the last few words as Uther's hand moved to the hilt of his sword and he ran his tongue over his drying lips; his voice speeding up as the man's darkening eyes narrowed into silts, "The man who witnessed the performance of sorcery – well he was one of the bandits – but I didn't divulge this information because I felt that you wouldn't take notice of the account, which I can assure you was truthful – I drew it out of him myself when he was found in the forest after the attack – when I had him arrested – in such a state not one word passing his lips would have been a lie…"
"So this group of bandits were of your Kingdom?" A curious voice inquired.
Cirion's head snapped around at the sudden interruption and his wild eyes met the collected prince's with a desperate fire; the look that passed showed that they both knew the King had little left to play.
"I couldn't be certain," he spat, his left hand jerking from a slight twitch.
"But you said you found this bandit in the forest that I had been attacked in when you arrested him, well I certainly remember not being in your Kingdom during the fight," Arthur brushed his fingers against his chin, his tone gaining a hint of mockery, "So if he wasn't one of your citizens then you were sure going through a lot of trouble to find him."
Cirion's eyes widened as it began to dawn on him that the prince wasn't just going along the route of claiming him to be a liar; he was planning on accusing him of something more.
"Which does make you wonder how you even knew where this bandit was in the first place, especially since he wasn't anywhere near Lorem; logically the only way you could have known where to find him would have been if…" The prince released an exaggerated gasp and turned to the shaking King with a very believable look of spontaneous thought painting his features as he whispered, "If you had sent him there in the first place."
It was the line that Cirion had been waiting for, and if he had been the one to say it; he would have been very proud of the reaction that it caused.
The handful of customary guards placed on the balcony swiped their swords from their belts and had them stroking the King's throat before he could take a breath.
The crowd below released a synchronised exclamation of shock and anger, subconsciously tightening around where Arthur stood in a sign of loyalty to their prince.
And finally Cirion could swear he heard a growl emit from Uther's throat as his own sword left its sheaf with a sliding ring.
Arthur what are you doing! Merlin viciously hissed to his friend who was currently the epitome of confidence to everyone bar the warlock who could feel the waves of guilt storming in the pits of his stomach.
Saving our lives, the prince spat back.
No you're lying!
I'm not!
Yes – you are!
It could be true!
No it could not – because you don't believe it is!
Arthur threw the warlock a murderous glare for their two second argument and forced a finality into his reply, I know what I'm doing, just trust me and leave it!
Sensing Merlin bristle at the order he mentally sighed and softened his tone, please?
Narrowing his eyes the boy reluctantly nodded but Arthur could still feel him searching his mind to check that he wasn't planning anything stupid.
Up on the balcony, beads of sweat were beginning to trickle down Cirion's pale skin as he failed to sense any words that would weave his way out of the situation. He wasn't used to being on the side of defeat when it came to a battle with only the ammunition of speech; he had slid himself into the courts of the neighbouring Kingdoms, had even managed to keep up his powerful appearance and continue to receive invite despite his kingdom falling into ruin after… that happened – yet now it had all turned against him, he had been beaten by a boy using his own words against him.
"Uther… I" He started with a last pitiful attempt at changing the standings but Arthur was on him as soon as he took the breath to speak.
"Which would explain why you took so long to report this supposed witness account," The prince continued, "If you were just worried for my safety as you claim then we would have welcomed a surprise visit from you with the news a couple of months ago – clearly when your organised attack on me failed you decided to instead set your sights on killing my manservant by falsely accusing him of an act that is taken very seriously in our kingdom– perhaps you were planning to offer a replacement servant afterwards who would have finished your job by stabbing me in my sleep?"
It was the final cut; Cirion dropped to the floor as Uther's blade swiped inches from his head, only the wall of guards trapping him preventing the sword from slicing through his panic struck face. Blindly scrambling in the sea of legs the King attempted to escape the army of swords hunting him but a rough hand clutched around his neck and he was lifted off the ground in a choke hold; the guard titling him to face the wrath of the high King.
Uther stalked towards the weasel of a man with predatory intent, his sword lightly swinging between his fingers before looping up and resting on Cirion's tensed throat.
"Take this traitor to the dungeons," He growled, placing extra force on his sword so a few drops of blood trickled down the man's neck, "And prepare the axe for execution tomorrow."
The hand bruising his skin dropped him like a disease and he crashed to the stone floor; his chin whiplashing against the hard surface, but before being able to recover from the shock he was grasped under either arm and roughly dragged into the castle; the guards he passed kicking and spitting at his aching body to make their hatred clear.
Uther watched the once King disappear behind the balcony door, only the presence of his citizens blocking him from stabbing the man through the heart right there; he may still be fuming at his son's behaviour but that didn't mean that assassination attempts against him went unpunished – they had a complicated relationship.
Forcefully pushing his sword back into its sheaf he turned from the crowd and shoved past the guards sticking to him for protocol protection; he needed a strong drink and by hell he was going to get one.
But unfortunately a meaningful cough halted the King in the first few steps of his rampage and he stiffly spun around to look down at his son who was staring at him with impatient apprehension, "So – can Merlin…"
Arthur left the sentence hanging, knowing nothing would be gained by purposely pointing out his father's mistake any more than it had been already.
His unspoken question got a rough grunt and dismissive wave as Uther stormed into the castle, the shatter of the door showing his dislike for having to allow his son's annoying manservant to live since all the evidence was seemingly false.
Well I must say that was one of my finer moments of spontaneity, Arthur added to the mental silence with a wave of relief as the last vibration from the slamming door faded away.
Merlin sent him a shower of exasperation but didn't hitch onto his friend's attempt at a callous attitude, so what were you planning to do if lying and sending an innocent man, however hated he may be, to his death didn't work?
Shrugging off the ropes which were untied by the guard on the pyre with them he stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out the battered bread that had once been his breakfast, thought we could have made use of the fire.
Unlike the prince Merlin took a moment to thank the guard who untied him before slapping the bread out of Arthur's hand and catching his wrist in a firm grasp, his nails digging into his flesh, you have just condemned a man to death under false pretence – I don't care if it saved our lives because right now you're doing exactly what Cirion just did to us, and that makes you as bad as him.
Cautiously Arthur pried the warlock's fingers off his reddening wrist and dropped his fake light-hearted emotions, I asked you to trust me and that request hasn't ended yet – I know what I'm doing…
Turning to glance at the space Cirion had been struggling a few moments ago a rush of grief swept over him and Merlin studied him with a sense of confusion as the need to pity his friend tugged at his core, though he didn't know why … besides – I have a promise to keep.
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