Author's Note - Thank you for the absolutely wonderful response that you gave me for the last chapter. It really made my day to see so many alerts in my inbox. You have no idea how much I love you for it! Thank you!
I struggled with this chapter. I suppose that's not surprising. But I promise that I did try really hard so forgive me :)
Merlin waited, leaning against the dank wall of the well and cursed himself over and over. There was no real reason to do this now; no sane reason! After all, what sane person would tell another person a secret that they may not like the answer to whilst stuck in a hole? Merlin even astounded himself sometimes with his own stupidity. He was honestly putting his life in Arthur's hands – the prince wouldn't even have to take him back to Camelot to be executed, he could just leave him here to rot in this well. Then again, that wasn't strictly true as Merlin did have magic for a reason; he could get himself out of this sticky situation if he really needed but he wanted to do that with Arthur's approval.
Knocking the already bruised back of his head against the stonework, he winced at the pain but felt he deserved it. It also distracted him from other things such as being stuck in such a claustrophobic place and the fact there could be a very angry prince above him with sharp weapons.
Why hadn't Arthur said anything? Was he just drawing this out in order to make it harder for the manservant? Or….had he already left? Just as the thought popped into Merlin's brain, fear gripped his heart and he threw his gaze upwards, squinting in the light. No, Arthur was still there, blond hair shimmering in the sun's glow like a halo. The warlock had never felt so dirty and lowly in his whole life and that wasn't just because of their positions. This was the man that would rule kingdoms, was he really any use to him? Was the Great Dragon just kidding with him; had it all been some sick lie? All these terrible misgivings swirled around inside him like a poisonous gas, infecting every cell of his body. He ended up wanting to dissolve into a puddle of misery and ineptitude.
"Merlin…" Arthur's voice rang out and the boy felt his heart leap, "You really shouldn't joke about things like that. I mean, I know I was larking around when I said about the cross-dressing but don't you think overstepped the line just a little bit? Can you imagine saying that in front of my father? He'd have you killed in an instant."
"Would you?"
"Would I what? Merlin, stop being a fool."
"Would you have me killed in an instant?"
Silence. "I don't think that's really relevant."
Inside, Merlin felt all his organs do a little jig of excitement, perhaps Arthur didn't want to answer as he had reservations?
"I'm afraid, Arthur, that it's very relevant," Merlin paused, "You see, I'm not kidding when I say that I'm a sorcerer."
The manservant couldn't believe he was having to say this twice. Of course, he shouldn't really be surprised as Arthur had completely ignored him when he admitted to the whole court that he was a sorcerer for Gwen's sake. The same when the witch finder accused him of sorcery. Merlin could still recall the amusement and derision in the prince's voice as he spoke – what on earth would he think now?
"Merlin," Arthur said, slowly, "Are you honestly telling me that you are a sorcerer…that you can perform magic?"
"Yes…yes I am," Merlin replied, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation: he was stuck in a well telling Arthur Pendragon that he was a sorcerer.
"In short, I don't believe you," Arthur said, glibly.
"That's your prerogative."
"Whoa-oh-oh, just because you start using smart words, Merlin, doesn't back up your claim of being a sorcerer. You could have spent too much time in the presence of Gaius and his books. In fact, this is all ludicrous; you must have taken a blow to the head and aren't thinking straight. You, Merlin, are not a sorcerer."
"I'm not about to argue with you, sire, but I think I know. Besides, you've even seen me do magic."
"I have?" Arthur sounded surprised, his voice echoing down the tunnel.
"All those times that my eyes flashed golden and I said it was a trick of the light…" Merlin supplied, sighing.
"That was magic?"
"That was a side-effect of magic. Arthur, how long do you think it will take to get me out of here? I mean, its getting dark up there, can you imagine how dark it will get down here?"
"Don't change the bloody subject, Merlin!"
"Sorry," the boy shrugged.
"I thought that you just had an eye condition."
"An eye condition that made my eyes turn gold?"
"I thought it was an interesting eye condition," Arthur amended. He paused, looking pensive and then he shook his head abruptly. "But….no, you have to be lying. Merlin stop lying, you aren't good at it and never will be."
"Cor, the one time I want you to believe me and you're being a prat about it."
It was like the walls were closing in on him; threatening to crush him between them like a grain in a milling machine. He closed his eyes. This really hadn't been a good idea. Not only did he feel trapped by Arthur's words but he also felt trapped physically. He felt sick. It was beginning to get harder to breathe as his lungs wouldn't take in the amount of air they needed – he was hyperventilating. Why was he in such a damn small space?!
"If you are a sorcerer then how come I didn't know; in fact, why the hell were you serving me in the first place?" Arthur pointed out, thinking that he had come up with a hole in Merlin's argument.
"Well, you aren't the most observant of people. Need I mention Morholt?" Merlin replied, feeling a little guilty for bringing that up but he needed Arthur to believe him. "And I began working for you because I saved your life, remember? There I was, minding my own business and then I did the good deed of saving your life and ended up washing your dirty underwear for a living! Tell me, how is that fair?"
Merlin knew he was rambling but it was partially the fear of being stuck in the well and partially the frustration at the prince not believing that he could be a sorcerer that made him do it. When he was scared he talked. It was like an instinctual reaction.
"I don't understand…." Arthur sounded bewildered, as if the truth was finally sinking in. "You can't be…."
"I am!" Merlin yelled up, angry at the world and the stupid, inattentive prince.
And then there was silence.
The manservant waited for a few seconds and finally realised that Arthur had gone. He had truly gone. There was no face staring down at him anymore; it had vanished. Merlin slammed his fists against the wall opposite – venting his feelings on the solid, unforgiving surface. His skin split and stung but he didn't care. He was just so aggravated. It had all gone wrong. He'd said everything wrong.
"No, no, no!" he repeated over and over, hitting the stones with every word. "Argh!"
This couldn't be it. This couldn't be the end of their friendship. That just wasn't fair. Merlin wasn't about to let that happen. No. He would take matters in his own hands and claw back the bond that he had spent so long forging. They were two sides of a coin. Parts of the same destiny. Without each other then they would fail.
"Arthur!" he bellowed up at the sky, barely registering that night had fallen now. All his fear had evaporated. He was now only focussed on one thing. "ARTHUR!"
He frantically tried scrabbling at the walls, breaking his fingernails off in the process. Even so he kept on trying and kept on shouting. He had to get the prince back.
"Arthur, if you don't get your backside back here now I'll-"
"You'll what?"
A shadow fell across the top of the well again with a familiar angular jaw and messy hair. His blue eyes glinted in the moonlight. Merlin stared for a moment, totally astounded by the presence of the man. For all his screaming he hadn't actually imagined the event of Arthur returning. They had been the cries of a desperate man.
"You'll what, Merlin?" he persisted, his tone indecipherable.
"Er…" the boy replied, stumped.
"Turn me into a toad? Blow me into smithereens with your magic?" Arthur said, grimly.
"Arthur…" the manservant breathed, horrified, "Don't do this."
"Do what? React badly? What did you expect?"
"I don't know."
"I was hardly going to clap my hands and jump for joy," Arthur replied, somewhat coldly. Merlin felt his spine prickle – he sounded so distant.
"Please, Arthur. Please believe that I'm a sorcerer but I would never do anything to hurt you. I'd kill myself before I'd do that."
"And why should I trust you?"
Merlin threw his hands up in the air. "Because you trusted me before! Why should it be any different now? Do I look any different? Am I acting any different?"
"You're being a bit of a twat to be honest."
"Apart from that," Merlin cried, incredulously, "I'm still the same Merlin. I'm still the same Merlin that burnt your socks whilst trying to dry them on the fire. I'm still the same Merlin that fell asleep on his horse and then proceeded to fall off. I'm still the same Merlin that trips over his own feet whilst doing anything. I'm still the same Merlin that follows you anywhere, rain or shine, without you even having to ask me: to hunt your dratted deer, to fight demons and monsters, to find pretty maidens that you get to save from robbers. I may be able to perform magic but I'm still the same Merlin that's afraid of small, dark spaces."
"That may be true but this isn't about you being you; this is about the law," Arthur answered, seriously.
"Sometimes, laws are meant to be broken. Sometimes, laws aren't right."
"It's my father's word…" Arthur said but didn't finish his sentence.
"And do you follow it because you want to or because you have to?"
"Merlin, this is what I've learnt my whole life. You have to understand that."
"You let the Druid boy go against your father's wishes."
"He was a child, he hadn't done anything wrong."
"I'm your friend. Have I done anything wrong?"
Once again, a silence overcame the pair of them but this one wasn't awkward like all the times before. It was needed; Merlin understood that; he couldn't just keep pressing Arthur because eventually he would just clam up and not want to hear anymore. He had to do this reasonably slowly even though really he just wanted to burst with all the words that were building up inside him.
He tried to put himself in Arthur's shoes but, in all honesty, it was just too difficult. If their positions had been reversed then he wasn't really sure how he would react. He couldn't imagine it the opposite way round. Therefore, he knew that Arthur must be facing one of the biggest internal struggles of his life.
There was a small amount of shifting up above and Merlin tensed, feeling bits of debris fall on top of his head. Arthur had vanished from sight. No. Not again!
"Arthur!" he yelled.
"I'm still here, idiot," came the sharp reply, "I was just getting uncomfortable on my knees."
"Oh…" Merlin paused, "Just don't leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," Arthur replied but the manservant couldn't be sure of his reasons.
"Can I just say something?"
"Well, you've said an awful lot already, I don't think a few more words will make much difference."
"Well," the servant took that as a cue to go ahead, "Before I told you about my magic, you said you didn't want me to die - you spend half your life trying to protect me, after all – so why should now be any different?"
"Because you're a sorcerer!" Arthur hissed, "You've broken the law and betrayed me."
"I've never betrayed you Arthur."
"You learnt sorcery."
Merlin sighed, casting his eyes up to the heavens. Why did everyone always assume that he had deliberately set out to be a warlock? It was so difficult to explain. He was unique but that only made everything even harder.
"I was born a sorcerer," he replied, "Just as you were born a prince. Neither of us had a choice in the matter; just as no child has the chance to pick their place in the world or their destiny. We're born with our paths already mapped out for us. People revere you because you are a prince; people want to kill me because I'm a sorcerer – not by choice but by design of a higher power. I bet you love being a prince what with all the privileges and the respect of the people but then again, I bet sometimes you hate it: the meetings, the expectations, the need to please your father. But it's a part of you just as much as magic is a part of me. Magic is beautiful but I still manage to loathe it because of the noose that it has put round my neck all my life, even though I shouldn't as it has also given me so much. Magic is as natural as the water that flows in the rivers or the leaves that grow on trees. It was created for a purpose – a good purpose – but has been twisted and ruined by bad people. Magic itself is not evil. It never could be, just like a sword is not dangerous unless it's picked up by a bad person. You control your sword as I control my magic; for good."
"There seem to be an awful lot of evil people then," Arthur stated, astutely, "Considering all the terrible magic I've seen."
"There are but then there are the good and if you don't let the good ones develop then the bad will take over. But that's the same with the non-magic folk. Its how the world balances out: for every plus there must be a minus. But don't you see, Arthur, magic can be used to benefit you and your people? Have you any idea how many times I've saved the kingdom – and you in the process?"
Arthur snorted. "When have you saved me?"
"I could list them but that would be a waste of time," Merlin replied, flippantly, "But you should know that I don't regret a single one of them and even if you decide to kill me then I still won't. Then again, if you don't kill me then you might find out what the times were." He added a sharp grin. "A wise creature once told me that our destinies have been entwined since birth and to begin with I, cynically, didn't believe him but now, honestly, I really do."
"You keep talking about destinies but what exactly are our destinies?"
"You will become King of Camelot and unite the lands of Albion…"
Arthur frowned. "That's impossible, the kingdoms are so separated and constantly battling. There could never be peace enough to do such a thing….and under just one ruler. Anyway, how exactly are you meant to be involved in that?"
Merlin made a face. "Well, I've saved your ungrateful backside quite a few times so far so I like to think I put something towards your eventual kingdom. I'm just generally meant to help you, fighting off your allies and so forth. Apparently it's been prophesised about."
"Is that why the Sphinx called you Emrys?"
Merlin started. He'd thought that the prince had forgotten about that completely; obviously not. Sometimes, Arthur really was more perceptive than he gave him credit for.
"Yes, I think, but even I don't understand all of the prophecy," Merlin admitted, tracing a pattern on the stone with his fingers.
The stars were shining in the navy blue sky now and both boys were surprised that the rescue party hadn't arrived yet. They had been here for what seemed like hours. White ghostly shapes of owls floated through the trees with their familiarly gentle hoo-hoo . Arthur couldn't even see his manservant now, as he stared into the hole, because he had been enveloped in darkness much like the forest. He was very slightly aware of a harvest mouse scurrying around in the leafy undergrowth but it seemed so insignificant now that he barely paid it any attention, even as it brushed his boot.
It was odd. His entire perspective on the world had been changed in just one afternoon. He had realised that Merlin had changed his character – for the better, so Morgana told him – but he didn't realise that the boy would have such a fundamental effect on his entire life. When he had first met the annoyingly bold peasant, he hadn't imagined that he would become his friend. But he had. And then, once he had become his friend, he hadn't thought that he could care for him quite so much. But he did.
And now he was a bloody sorcerer.
Secretly, Arthur had always known there was something slightly different about Merlin. He was unique. He had these weird little mannerisms that the prince could never quite understand and he always seemed strangely confident in situations that looked, at best, dire. To be honest, he'd known from the moment that Merlin had confronted him, that he wasn't your average peasant. Just how un-average he was hadn't even crossed his mind. It seemed quite obvious now but he never would have suspected.
Oh gods, but what was he meant to do now?
Leaning back, he lay on the hard turf and rested his head in his cupped hands. For a good time, he stared up at the velvety sky and considered his views on life. Were they skewed? Were the biased? Most likely because he hadn't ever been taught anything else. Having said that, although he got a rush out of vanquishing sorcerers and monsters, he couldn't say that he didn't see the beauty – as Merlin said – in what they were. Well, some of them. That unicorn was borne of magic and it was so pure that he couldn't even bear to touch it. Merlin had. Did that mean he was purer of heart? And then there had been that griffin – half lion, half eagle – and so magnificent. He remembered standing in wonder for a second before realising he had to kill it. And then there was Alizarin. He couldn't even begin to put into words the awe that he held for the dragon. It was a creature of the Old Religion, so ancient and so stunning.
With all these striking things stemming from magic, could it really be as terrible as Uther made out?
"You know…" Merlin's voice echoed up from the disused well, "I'm all for allowing you to ponder but perhaps you could get me out soon? I mean its really dark now."
"If you're a magician then why don't you magic yourself out?" Arthur drawled, without thinking. He was shocked by what he'd suggested.
"I'll only magic myself out if you accept me for who I am. Oh, and promise not to execute me," he added, as almost an afterthought.
Arthur smiled to himself. When it came to it, the manservant could still make him laugh, even in the most awkward and painful of situations. Everything seemed to be made better by the presence of Merlin. Perhaps, that's why he always commanded his company on every single trip that he made. He hadn't really thought of that before but it was true.
He came to a decision.
"Merlin…"
"Yes?" the boy's tone was eager.
"I trust you."
A pause. "And that means…?"
"I won't kill you and I won't turn you over to my father."
"Seriously?" There was so much hope and joy in Merlin's voice that Arthur felt immensely proud for coming to this decision. He just knew it was the right one.
"Seriously," he repeated.
"What made you….you know, decide not to murder me?"
"Let's just say that one of your arguments got through to me."
"Can't I know? Then I can use it on the king if I need to. It would be nice to know which is most effective."
"Trust me when I say that it won't work on the king," Arthur chuckled, "Are you going to come out now?"
"Er…well, all right, if you're sure. Give me a mo."
The prince listened attentively as his manservant scuffled around in the bottom of the pit and then he heard the boy mutter a few words that made no sense to him at all. It was like he was speaking French again but with a sore throat. He waited patiently at the top of the well and was not disappointed when Merlin appeared over the edge. He seemed to be floating on nothing and his eyes were glowing gold. After a moment, he landed.
"Wow, I've never levitated before," Merlin blinked and his eyes turned blue once more, "That could have ended really badly."
"Why didn't you do that before? Why did you stay down the well?"
"I told you, I wanted you to trust me before I came out. Besides, it was a lot safer down there where you couldn't reach me," Merlin replied, embarrassedly.
Arthur watched his manservant flush in the moonlight and saw the wry smile that curled his lips. He stared at his bruised face and his rumpled hair and the tatty clothes which hung off his bony frame. He thought about what it would be like to lose him and felt his heart shudder in his chest at the idea. Without a word, he did the only thing that came to him and stepped forward, enveloping the boy in a bear hug. Merlin tensed at first but then he relaxed into the hug and tried to stop the grin that was rapidly spreading across his face.
"Would now be a really inappropriate time to tell you that Alizarin can actually talk?" Merlin murmured into his shoulder.
