Merlin had a look of disbelief. He had though that he'd be safe from the patrol, but in the end, his presence had now put Jonathan and Margareth in danger. What if they were found out? His gaze trailed around the house, and the closer he looked, the more magical artifacts he noticed placed here and there. None of them really stood out, but to anyone who knew a thing or two about magic, they'd be recognizable. His gaze also searched for an escape route, except for the obvious front door, which was now locked. There were a few windows he could possibly escape through. But before he had the time to finish exploring that idea, Jonathan spoke once more.
"I take that back. They are here."
Merlin was about to scurry towards the window to have a look himself, but he was hindered by a well-placed hand against his chest from Jonathan. "No." the elderly man spoke, his gaze then trailing towards Margareth. His facial expression seemed to change. It softened in a way, but Merlin simply could not put a finger on it. There was a feeling of sadness to his gaze, for a reason he could not quite understand, as the elderly man brought him towards his wife.
The room was silent, the silence only interrupted by the metallic sounds outside of the house. A sound which was made from the armor of the knights.
Jonathan stepped away from him, his hands raising up towards Margareth's face, cupping each side of it in his grasp. The man kissed the woman upon the forehead, before he muttered words that Merlin's ears were barely able to pick up from where he stood.
"Take him below. If it doesn't go well, do not wait for me." the elderly man had spoken, having established eye-contact with the woman. The look upon Margareth's face was what made it dawn on him. The woman looked defeated, as she took a hold of Jonathan's hand, cupping it between hers. With a tilt of her head, her forehead rested against his chest. Her knuckles were turning white as she squeezed his hand tightly, to the point where it would surely be painful, but pain did not show on the man's face.
Then there was banging at the door, sounds of metal impacting wood.
"Open the door. We are searching for a fugitive of the law, It should not take long." a voice spoke, the sound muffled as it passed through the wood.
Briefly, Jonathan directed his gaze towards the door, only to return it to Margareth a moment later.
"Come with us, Jonathan. They do not know we are home" the woman whispered, which warranted a simple reply. "They saw me, but they have not seen you." he had whispered in return. His un-squeezed hand moved to her chin, lifting the womans head up from his chest.
"You must go. Take him with you now. This does not have to end bad. Stop taking sorrows in advance, dear." He added. As there was pounding at the door once again, his gaze returned to the door.
"In a moment!" he called out to the knights.
Jonathan ushered Maragareth and Merlin forwards, threw a rug aside, which revealed a cellar door. In a smooth motion, the door was opened. For a brief moment, Jonathan's expression changed. His wife did not notice, but Merlin did. The elderly man understood the severity of the situation, much better than himself and Margareth. There was this look in his eyes, in the moment that passed, a tiredness he would not come to understand until much later, if ever. Jonathan looked tired and old, but he also seemed to be at peace. He was overwhelmingly calm, where his wife was turning more into a mess for every passing moment.
"Jonathan.. come with us." Margareth pleaded one last time, on the brink of tears, as she was half-way down to the cellar. The pounding at the door intensified. "I can't. But don't worry. I'll be fine." He replied. With a nod, Margareth continued the climb down. She surely knew, that things weren't going to be fine.
Merlin felt a tight grip on his upper arm, which held enough force to leave a bruise.
"You did this. It is your fault, and she is your responsibility now. Do you understand, boy?"Jonathan hissed towards him in the form of a whisper. When the man looked towards him, all he saw was an expression of resentment. Merlin tried to object.
"You go with her, I'll hold them off. It is me they are looking for, not you." Merlin whispered in response, guilt striking deep within his gut.
"You're a fugitive, and you've been with us. Our magic will get us both killed, and they will know of it. If you are caught, all hope is gone. Things will never be normal again. This is the only way. Now go, boy. You will Keep her safe, and then go back to where you came from. Swear to me, boy. Swear that you will."
"I swear.." Merlin whispered back, before he reluctantly obeyed the elderly man. He had fully realized that his actions had directly caused this series of events to unfold. He was also painfully aware of what would could quite possibly happen next. He climbed down into the cellar, and Jonathan closed the cellar door above his head. The last streaks of light were blocked out as the rug must've been moved to cover the door.
Margareth was silently sobbing in the darkness, and Merlin absentmindedly embraced the woman as he intently listened to the sounds above, although they were muffled.
He heard Jonathan's steps across the floor, in the direction of the door. The creaking of the door sounded next, and then muffled voices. Metallic sounds were heard entering the house, a multitude of footsteps accompanying them. More muffled voices. They continued to walk about the house. He heard a table being moved, and something dropping, shattering on the floor. The water that eventually leaked through the floorboards made it evident that it was the old vase he had looked at not long before. There were a few words exchanged, which he could make out a bit more clearly now, as they were almost directly above their heads. It sounded like an apology, likely for the vase that broke. Jonathan seemed to dismiss it as being nothing. The sounds of the knights shifted around as they continued to search, until footsteps were heard directly on the cellar door. It creaked underneath the weight of the knight in armor, and budged ever so lightly.
There were a few footsteps again, and then suddenly streaks of light entered the cellar from above. The rug must've been removed. He held his breath, as he heard metal move, as the knight above must've grasped for the metal ring, in order to pull open the cellar door.
"We must go.." Margareth whispered in a defeated manner, the elderly woman grasping a hold of Merlin's arm as she begun to move through the darkness, and without objection, he followed. As soon as they started to move, sounds of combat begun to spread through the house above. He heard words of magic being shouted, and the sound of metal hitting wood as knights were undoubtedly thrown away. He heard wood shattering, the metallic sound of swords being drawn, the jumbled shouts of the knights. The elderly woman seemed to have come to terms with what was about to happen, although that was most likely not going to numb her grief.
As they begun to move through a tunnel underground, away from the house, he heard a shout of pain, accompanied by a soft thud, not a metallic one. In the distance he saw the cellar door crack open, and thus he, with the mutter of a word, made the entrance to the tunnel behind them collapse in on itself.
Margareth slipped on the slippery dirt of the tunnel floor, finding support on Merlin. The tunnel smelled like damp earth, and he could hear the sound of critters ahead. Most likely groundhogs and mice. It was cold down here, and he could feel goosebumps spread across his arms, and soon enough, he begun to shudder.
The elderly woman fumbled through the darkness, eventually finding a small box near the ground, where she hunched down. They spent a few moments in pitch black darkness and silence, before the woman had successfully lit a torch. He could have easily done it, had he been asked, however, Margareth seemed to be in her own world now, barely noticing his presence.
The torch lit up the tunnel, revealing that it was only tall enough for the average man to pass through upright, and that the entire tunnel system seemed to be supported by roots, of unknown origins. He suspected that magic had a hand in the creation of this tunnel, and its support system, and that this may have been constructed over several years. He assumed that it was an escape tunnel, in case they were discovered and cornered. It had likely been made right after the purge, when Uther's war against magic had been at it's peak. What else could this tunnel have been for? He felt both sad and angered at his fact, that his kind needed to take such precautions, even if they had never done anything wrong.
It didn't seem like there had been anyone down here for ages, as parts of the tunnel had half-way crumbled in on itself, and in other places, roots had grown rampant. A guilty voice in his head told him that they most likely didn't think they'd ever need to use it, which would've been true, if not for his mistakes. He was, after all, the reason for why the knights had come to Ealdor, and the reason for why Margareth and Jonathan had decided to help him. It would've been easier for them to not have done anything. If only he had Morgause with him, six months ago, then he'd never have marched on Camelot like he did, and then none of this would've happened. And even if it had, Morgause would've had a way to resolve this situation, without Jonathan's sacrifice. She always knew what to do.
Moving forwards took some time, and through the entire walk, the once chatterbox Margareth did not speak a single word. They reached a ladder, and Merlin climbed up first, opened the door above, and then helped Margareth climb out. The light was immensely bright at first, until his eyes started to adapt. It took a moment for him to realize where they were. They were a distance into the forest which was not far from Margareth and Jonathan's house, and far in the distance, he was able to discern that there was smoke rising. He wasn't sure if it had been the Knight's doing, or Jonathan's, but he assumed the latter.
His first instinct was to head back to his Mother, and bring Margareth with him, explain what had happened, and that he was alive, but that he needed to leave, but reason told him otherwise. The knights were likely still in Ealdor, and undoubtedly, they'd remain for a while. He didn't want to put his mother at risk, by her knowing that he was still alive. It may be best, that she assumed him to have died in the fire for now. He could send a letter to her in the future.
However, he now stood at a loss, unsure of what he ought to do. Heading to Ealdor had been such an easy decision in the first place, but now, there were no more easy decisions to be made. Not seeing his mother again had also been a relatively easy choice, because the outcome of doing it would be so clear.
Over the years, even after the construction of the Sanctuary, he had become accustomed to Morgause and more recently the council having all the answers. Back then, all he needed was to look to them, and they were sure to have an answer for any hard choices that had to be made.
But now, Jonathan had left him responsible for his wife, right before he had sacrificed his life in order to give them both the time to escape. The realization of the responsibility that was now on his shoulders left him even more indecisive. Had he only been responsible for himself, then the stakes would not have been so high, but now he had someone's life in his hands. He could not make reckless choices. He didn't want to burden Margareth more, and therefore he had no one he could turn to for guidance.
'Come on.. Think, you have to think. What should you do now? Mother can not help you, and Margareth is a mess. Where should we go? What should be our next course of action? Come on.. Think! Think! If only Morgause was here.. then things would be okay. She'd know what to do, like always' His mind raced, the tips of his fingers drumming repeatedly against his forehead as he walked back and forth.
Had he become too dependent? Had he lived too comfortably in the past? This entire predicament was truly all his fault. That conclusion was simple for him to reach. And yet, he had no answers that could resolve this, all he could think of was how much he missed, and needed Morgauses guidance.
"Come, Merlin. Let us go." were the words that brought him out of his mind. It had been Margareth that had spoken. She seemed to have aged ten years, during the last twenty minutes. Though it seemed like the elderly woman had made the decision for him. "Sure!" Merlin quickly responded, eager to follow without question, almost sounding a little too relieved at the fact that someone had a plan. He mentally scolded himself for it. Since when had he grown so dependent on others?
"Where are we going?" he quickly added, as if to correct his previous response.
"To my niece. Her home is closer than my other relatives. It should be a few days travel." she answered. She sounded so tired. The look on her face made it clear that her mind wished to be elsewhere, but that she forced herself to be present. She was taking care of him, even after all that had happened. She had the answers, where he had none.
And then it dawned upon him, that after he had met Morgause, he had never made a decision on his own, nor had he had an answer that was his own. At the time, it had sounded like it had been him, after all, the words had come from his mouth, with his voice. But the short time he spent alone with Jonathan, and then the time now, with Margareth, added with the time he was spending without Morgause, the more he was beginning to realize, that his voice and his words had not been his, for the longest of time.
He had been so dependent upon Morgause, after she took him in following his mother's death. He had been afraid to make mistakes, that could unleash Camelots wrath upon others he still cared for, and then Morgause had offered the resolutions that never seemed to go wrong. Everytime he had tried to make a choice on his own early on, it had always seemed to fail, and then she was the one that fixed everything, and made it all good again. He couldn't remember what the last decision he made all on his own had been.
He knew that he despised Arthur and Uther for what they did, but why had he hated Gwen and Gaius for it as well? Logic should have told him that they'd be helpless against Uther's command.. So why had he blamed them all this time? And why had he blamed and hated the knights, who likely did not even know the reason for why they were getting his Mother? And even if they did, they'd have no choice but to follow the orders they were given. And those orders would have come from Arthur and Uther directly. He could no longer understand why he had hated them all so much, and why he had allowed it to grow the way it had. As time had passed, shouldn't his rage had mellowed enough for him to differentiate between who was to blame, and who had been powerless to stop it?
And that made him wonder, if he really had thoughts and feelings that were his own, or if they had all been echoes, left behind by Morgause when he was at his most vulnerable. And if that was the case, how on earth was he going to find his own voice and opinions again, when he was already so lost?
He felt like a fool, and he felt betrayed.. And he was beginning to question everything.