36. Infraction

Summary: I turn back to Merlin, and whatever expression currently occupies my face seems to warn him. He quickly gets to his knees, bracing his arms in front of him.

When we reach the Council Tent it appears the meeting just recently adjourned, where the new mission to Ealdor must have been debriefed. My father is sipping from a goblet with a smile as he stands among a group of conversing men, all seemingly excited by what they discuss.

Its strange. I expected him to be more somber after news of dragons so close to camp, but I've never seen his face more smug.

"My lord," Yilgrid interrupts, and the group parts enough to allow her entrance. I stay back, just outside the tent with Merlin behind me. "My lord, I have to report an infraction of disrespect and mutiny, which I witnessed being made by the recruit under Arthur."

His steel eyes quickly flicker to me, smile fading, and the councilmen back up to give him view. "And why does this soldier not issue such a report himself?" he asks, with feigned nonchalance.

I feel acid boil inside my stomach, almost making it up my throat. "I did not find it weighty enough for your attention, my lord," I manage to intone respectfully, stepping forward into the tent and briefly bowing my head. I know his gaze, though half-lidded, is a calculating one as he assesses my response.

"His recruit blatantly undermined his authority and made implications about you, my lord, in spite of you," Yilgrid adds, and for the first time something alive appears in her eyes. I barely repress my flinch as I recognize it: hunger.

My father's eyes travel, past her standing close in front of him to me, and finally to Merlin behind me. I don't dare look myself, chin stiff and jutted in front of me to try to keep Lord Uther's attention. The warlord slowly walks behind the long table, sitting at the head with his back ever-so-slightly slouched. "And the soldier has yet to issue punishment then, I presume?"

She shakes her head viciously.

"I was not given time to," I defend quickly, stepping forward again. "I would have, had Yilgrid given me the chance before demanding I report it."

He stands abruptly, surprising me into taking a step back. "Any incident, involving a recruit no less, that concerns the threat of mutiny or any form of rebellion must be explicitly reported to myself. You know this, soldier." I open my mouth briefly, and close it. He stands sternly, lips pursed tight as I bow my head and nod. "Good." He motions to Merlin with the slightest jut of his chin. "Now, issue punishment."

"Father—"

Do not address me so," he thunders over me, eyes stormy. A painful, sinking feeling drops into my gut: loss. "In any situation of this nature I am your lord and commander. What has come over you? Shall I have Nimueh punish it instead?"

I grit my teeth, shaking my head. "No, of course not, my lord."

He raises an eyebrow. "Get on with it then."

I've never actually 'gotten on with it,' so to speak. I haven't done it since Nimueh taught me the act in theory, when I finally managed to dole out a single lash on Merlin. He'd been bracing himself for it, of course, and I was successful enough at unleashing the power of the claim that Nimueh left satisfied.

But that doesn't mean whatever my father orders her to inflict upon Merlin would be any better. I'd guess based on personal experience that it would be much, much, much worse.

I turn back to Merlin, and whatever expression currently occupies my face seems to warn him. There is no time for I'm sorry and This is my fault, regardless of how my mind runs through such feelings in looping succession. He quickly gets to his knees, bracing his arms in front of him. How Nimueh had instructed him to be for the punishment. I can remember the heavy eye contact she kept with Merlin when saying it, however, and the pleased curl of her lips when he endured my one strike with silence.

I am not sure silence will yield the same satisfaction from his current audience. There's no way to warn him of such, however, no way to say anything else before I'm expected to proceed.

I slot my eyes closed. Feeling around me—the still-dripping forest, the frosty, wet wind blowing into the open tent, and Merlin's shallow breaths as they tremor through his back—I can almost ignore the reality of what I must do. I can pretend I am in that strange dream again, with its lulling deep voice and the gusting breeze that seemed to at once refresh and kindle my soul.

But my eyes must open.

Merlin is still in position, crouched with his back curved and vulnerable in front of me. Waiting. As is my father, out of eyesight but imposing in his presence behind me.

So I proceed. I search inside myself, for that burning, acidic concoction that usually only releases at the chant of aliesan. It's a quick thing to find now, with an irritated burn straight over my heart that centers it for me. I breathe in and out once, focusing, forcing the power out from my chest down my arms, building up in my fingertips.

The magic has nowhere to go. Instead it writhes, squirms, twists, and then lashes out like a whip. I feel Merlin's fear echo my own, and he must sense the build as well. But only I feel the eyes that burn into my back, branding me with their scrutiny. The eyes of Lord Uther.

As I let the claim release the only way it can, the single thing echoing my fear now is blinding, all-encompassing pain. Merlin writhes at my feet, silent like the stubborn ass he's incapable of not being, and my father orders coldly, "Keep going. Wait until he screams."

I immediately begin to silently plead at Merlin to start screaming soon, even if he could continue to stand it in silence. But as the claim twists his magic against him Merlin just silently shakes. It takes an excruciatingly long minute before the boy finally starts whimpering, and then yelping, and then crying out. I immediately force the flare of magic back down inside. The sensation makes my head rush, and I stagger to keep my balance.

Meanwhile Merlin's arms buckle, body slumping and then un-moving. The feeling of pain cuts off, followed by . . . nothing. I stare down at him, gasping, sweat pouring down my back though I've only felt the echo of what he endured. It feels like hours go by as I stand there, my vision tunneling on Merlin's motionless person at my feet. The wreckage of my actions.

If I had not selfishly gone and joined the village boys in that silly game of ball, would Merlin still be lying here in front of me?

A flicker of movement finally helps me break my gaze, and a second later I recognize it as Yilgrid walking past us, head bowed. On instinct she seems to sense my gaze and looks up for a brief moment. I blink in bafflement at the sight of eyes that, once deadened, now stream as they lock with mine, face shiny with wet tracks of what must be tears. Upon catching my eye she quickly turns away.

I have no time to process what it means. Instead I hear my father's voice, suddenly so close in my ear, further catching me off guard with the words: "Well done, soldier."

He says it so softly, right behind me, sending shudders down my scalp. My stomach takes a sickening twist, churning at the realization I once had longed for such words. I don't loosen a single muscle until his footsteps fade—only then can I stumble to Merlin, hands out to check for injuries, for breathing, for life.

He seems alive. Breathing, no blood anywhere, if that means anything.

But its not enough. He looks like the life has been drained from him. For a panicked moment I wonder if that's exactly what's happened, until I force myself to remember how countless other sorcerers have recovered from much worse punishment. Merlin will be fine. Merlin will live. Perhaps that is not truly my worry.

Hatred, not for Merlin or for Uther or for Yilgrid or even for fate but for myself, swallows me so entirely my body shakes with it. Because the truth is, Merlin will hate me. My stomach churns with it, my head fogs over all sight or sound in the wake of it.

My old mantra returns with new resolve: I can't do this anymore.

A/N: I return after a long hiatus! Only to bring you the lowest point, just before the upward climb of 'Recruit' and its end, of course. So sorry for the long wait, everyone, it totally sucks because even I forgot what last happened. Lol. I love you all, please forgive me! Real life has a tendency to get in my way ;)

catherine10: Honest, I think I already have made that a habit in my writing! Lol, my last fic RIVULET literally didn't explain ANYTHING until the last few chapters. I'm tempted to tag practically everything I post here with 'Suspense' even when its a cheesy Mergana three-shot. Thanks though, I'm glad you find it an attribute not an annoyance!