A/N
Hey guys! I came across the show last week (yes I've actually only seen the first season) and have been immersed with reading fanfictions since! So I've basically spoiled the ENTIRE show for myself, BUT I had an idea for a story that I really wanted to play out, so let me know what you think! Also, I'm HOPING I don't get anything wrong with my lack of actual show watching, but bear with me and tell me if I do! This will be twenty chapters long, and I would love any reviews you want to give! Hope you guys enjoy!
In a land of myth, and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name… Merlin.
The heat was unbearable. The sun beating down on the man mercilessly even through the cascading branches that twisted together and formed a shoddy amount of shade as he rode. Casting a glare at the back of a blond head riding in front of him, Merlin let out yet another weary sigh, his hand falling for the waterskin tied to his side before he pulled it away, knowing what he had left needed to be reserved until they hit the river.
Readjusting himself on his mare, Merlin shielded his eyes from the burning irritation overhead and instead turned towards the bigger irritation in front of him. Releasing another sigh, the horse in front abruptly stopped and the man on it turned, a frustrated glare shot back at him. "Merlin, shut up!"
"I told you it was too hot for this, but you were too stubborn to listen."
"Don't be such a girl, Merlin."
Rolling his eyes, he muttered a quiet "prat" under his breath as Arthur called out "heard that" before continuing on. He took note of the fact that his comment hadn't been dismissed, meaning his royal cabbage head felt the sweltering heat as well. For some reason, that made Merlin smile. If he'd been forced to suffer getting up before dawn and gathering supplies for the impromptu hunting trip, it was only fair that Arthur felt some of the pain from his ridiculously bad idea too.
He was aware that Arthur had been under a great deal of strain, once he'd taken over the throne his duties had doubled, then tripled. Which unfortunately for Merlin, meant his had as well. On any normal occasion when the sun was not determined to scorch the very earth they stood upon, he'd have been grateful for the trip.
Yes, he hated it when Arthur killed the innocent creatures that lived amongst the trees just for fun, but he had a great deal of fun himself scaring them off and causing the other to miss his shots. And despite the work that was always thrown upon him, out in the woods was one of the few, if not the only place Arthur let himself relax.
Back at the citadel and in the Lower Town, Arthur had to keep a presence of authority and leadership. People looked up to him, admired and respected him for all he had done, and all he might one day do. There were endless meetings and floods of paperwork and Merlin had a suspicion that had one more council member asked why the king would not elaborate on one decision or another for the fourth time around, he'd have exploded on the spot. So, the hunting trip was good in that respect, if only it wasn't so hot.
"Hurry up, Merlin. You're lagging behind."
Glancing up, the young warlock realized that in his thoughts he'd allowed his mare to slow, the king further ahead on his own steed. "Perhaps you should bring George next time, I'm certain he would love the chance to spend such time with you, Sire." Merlin's words dripped with sarcasm, urging his horse to go faster until he was riding beside the man.
"At least George might be better company," Arthur spat, turning a reproachful eye at the other. "You've been acting like an infant since we left."
"I have not." Merlin scoffed, reaching a hand up and adjusting the scarf he wore around his neck.
"So your near silence interrupted only by your relentless sighing is due to something besides pouting?"
Narrowing his eyes, the warlock resisted the urge to sigh once more. He had no response to give, irritated though at the small smirk Arthur wore at his minor victory. "How long before we reach the river?" He asked, changing the topic as he resolved to make himself more conversational.
"It's not far. We'll tie the horses nearby and see what game we can catch."
"I'd be surprised if they weren't all sleeping to get away from this heat." Merlin mumbled, not even having to look up to feel the annoyed stare shot his way.
As the two continued on, Merlin sat himself straighter, eyes glancing around them as sweat rolled down his neck. The forest had taken on a stillness that made the warlock tense, not even the slightest breeze daring to rustle a branch or a leaf. He found himself slowing again, blue eyes peering through the brush as a shadow moved beneath it.
"Merlin! Quit lagging behind! If I knew you were going to be so useless today I would have just come by myself!" Coming to a dead stop, Merlin frowned, a gust of dry wind making the brush tremble near him. "How utterly stupid are you? I'd ask if the sun has damaged your brain, but I don't think there's enough in there for any damage to be done!" Arthur scoffed, riding back towards his servant as Merlin glanced up at him.
"We should leave." The words were out of his mouth before he fully knew why, blue hues flickering to the foliage again before looking back at his friend.
"Excuse me? When will you learn that I give the orders, Merlin, not you?"
"Arthur, I have a bad feeling about this. We really should go."
"I came out here to hunt and that's what I plan to do." Arthur stated dismissively, turning his horse back around.
Scowling at the stubborn man's back, Merlin forced his mare on, trailing begrudgingly behind him as a weight settled in his stomach. Something was wrong. He knew something was wrong. Everything had become too still, too quiet. And he felt like they were being watched. To Arthur's credit at least, the man seemed to study their surroundings a bit more, head turning from left to right on occasion.
By the time they'd approached the river, the sound of rushing water filled up the silence and Merlin felt sick from the building unease. "See? Everything is fine, so quit being such a coward." Arthur declared, climbing down from his steed as Merlin followed suit.
"I'm not being a-"
"Merlin! Just tie up the horses, I won't hear another word!" The king snapped, his tone taking one of authority as he fixed his manservant with a hard stare.
"Yes, Sire." Merlin spoke with a small bow of his head, taking the reins of both horses and guiding them away. He had been aware from the beginning how short tempered Arthur was that day, but he still couldn't shake off the feeling.
Going about his tasks quickly, the young warlock secured their horses and watered them before gathering Arthur's hunting equipment and lugging it back over to the man who stood staring into the trees with an odd expression.
"Are you alright?" Merlin asked, stopping a few paces back as the blond turned, ignoring the question as he took the crossbow from his servant's hands.
"Let's go. And be quiet this time." Arthur warned, his tone low as the two began to make their way through the trees.
Keeping one eye on where he was stepping and one eye on the landscape, Merlin ran a hand across his face to wipe away the sweat and grime that had begun to gather as the king came to an abrupt stop. Raising a hand in warning that Merlin nearly crashed into, he paused and watched the man crouch down behind a half fallen tree. Pulling out and notching an arrow, Arthur aimed carefully towards his prey in the distance.
Wincing, Merlin began to shuffle back, preparing to trade the buck's life for a day of further berating. Stumbling forwards suddenly and grabbing ahold of a branch, the tree quivered and its leaves brushed together, alerting the animal and sending it running just as Arthur released the arrow.
The point drove harmlessly into a tree and Merlin felt a smile rising to his face. At least it almost did, until he was met with furious blue eyes that threatened a never ending list of chores for the next several days.
"Merlin! You clumsy buffoon! Can you not walk even a step without tripping over your own feet?" Annoyance turned to anger as the blond strode towards the tree holding his arrow, the man ripping it free and pointing it back at his servant. "For once, could you try not to alert everything to our presence?" He demanded, turning his back and continuing on as Merlin trailed behind him once more.
Arthur continued to murmur under his breath, cursing his manservant while following the trail of the buck that had run off. By the time the sun was high overhead, Arthur had yet to find another target, and Merlin felt dead on his feet.
"We might as well go back, nothing wants to be out in this heat." Merlin finally grumbled, leaning back against a tree and wiping his face again uselessly.
Slowing to a stop, Arthur looked as though he might protest before he sighed, lowering his crossbow. "How is it that you manage to keep your feet beneath you except when I have something in my sights?"
The question was posed with a pointed look, and Merlin smiled sheepishly. "I suppose I'm not that great at sneaking around."
"Add that to the never ending list then." Arthur grumbled, walking past Merlin as he began to trek back the way they'd come. Instead of responded to the remark, Merlin found himself staring beyond the trees, the knot in his stomach twisting painfully as the edge of a cloak disappeared from view.
Jogging to catch up to the king, the warlock glanced back only to find no one following them. "What are you doing?" Arthur demanded, looking over his shoulder as well. "Do you still have that bad feeling? Honestly, Merlin, if anything were going to happen it would have already-"
The man came to a sudden halt as Merlin stumbled to a stop of his own. Down amongst the trees were the remnants of a small camp, hidden from view when they'd first trekked into the trees, but now visible as they came back down. A man wearing a faded blue cloak sat with his back to the two as his hand stretched out and a small fire erupted beneath a dented pot.
Arthur's hand was on his sword before Merlin could speak a word, and as the crossbow was shoved into his hands and the blade was unsheathed, the stranger turned and stared at them with hollow green hues. He stayed where he was perched, a gleam in his eyes as they rested not on the king, but Merlin himself.
"State your name." Arthur commanded, standing taller while taking a step forward and to the left, his body moving partially in front of Merlin's.
"Alard, My Lord." The man spoke, though no respect could be found in the title he uttered.
"Camelot has banned the use of magic within its borders, and you have gone against that law."
"Have I?" The man tilted his head, moss colored hues darting back to Merlin as thin lips twisted into a smile. The young warlock kept his face neutral, though his eyes flickered to Arthur as the king kept his sword leveled at the man.
"Those who practice magic are not permitted within the borders of Camelot, and any who dare try are sentenced to death." Merlin's eyes widened a fraction, his stare moving back to the man who had yet to take his gaze off him.
"Are they?"
Did he know about him? Merlin wanted to curse, wanted to drag Arthur away. He wanted to do anything but stand there trying to figure out what Arthur was possibly hoping to gain from decreeing such a thing. The man had been lighting a fire, he had not been causing any other trouble. Would Arthur allow him to leave? Or did he plan to run him through on the spot? The idea made Merlin sick, his knowledge of his friend and his hatred towards magic leading him to believe it may be closer to the latter.
"You know very little of the magic around you, My Lord, even at this very moment." Alard said calmly, rising to his feet as Arthur tightened his hold on the blade. "Do you not listen to those who say not all magic is for evil? Do you ignore the cries of the innocent that you and your kingdom have damned?" His voice was growing louder, and Merlin could feel the agitation in the air.
"Can you not hear the wailing of the children who have done nothing to deserve such wrath?" He had yet to take a step closer, but Merlin could feel the uncertainty in the king. Arthur had worked hard to be fair and just, despite the way he'd been taught to despise and fear all magic.
He'd had his moments when those who he felt were innocent were let free, when those that proved no harm somehow vanished before their sentencing with no one chasing after them. But the agitation had turned into tension, and it was so thick in the air that Merlin knew nothing would end fairly in that moment.
Before Arthur could speak, Alard held his hands up in surrender, bowing his head to his chest. "If death is what waits for me for such a meager act, then you are not who you claim to be. A wise king listens to the outcries, yet you choose to be oblivious. If you cannot hear the cries of your people, then you do not deserve to hear them at all."
Arthur's sword lowered only a fraction, his feet carrying him a step forward as Merlin looked closer, the sorcerer's head lifting and his eyes meeting the warlock's once more. Only they were no longer the shade of the forest, flashing instead the briefest color of gold as his mouth moved with the faintest of whispers.
The realization struck a moment later, Merlin's body moving into action as he dropped the crossbow and tackled into Arthur, a warm breath of air hitting the warlock's back as the two fell to the forest floor. There was a moment of relief as Merlin's elbows collided with the hard ground, pleased that he'd shoved Arthur out of the way in time. But the relief quickly faded as the pain washed it away.
An unearthly scream pierced through his ears, the man's hands rising to clasp them in an effort to block the sound as agony ripped through him. The noise grew louder, a thousand cries mixing and begging in his head. Merlin's eyes squeezed shut as his body curled inwards, his knees pulling into his chest as he ducked his head down in an effort to silence the screaming. It needed to stop, it had to stop.
Fire danced through his head and burned every nerve, every muscle, every word he tried to speak. His body was burning, the air wrenched from his lungs as he fought to fight the screams. They were begging to be free, pleading to live. Fire that was dry and hot and burning the flesh from their bones rose up higher, and they wouldn't stop screaming.
His body trembled where he lay, tears slipping past closed eyes as heavy hands fell on his shoulder. They had infiltrated his mind and now they were fighting for his body. He didn't dare open his eyes, didn't dare see the fires melting his skin and charring his bones. The fire was pulling at him, grabbing ahold of his arm and his back and his leg, it was trying to reach him, was trying to burn the side pressed tightly into the dirt.
So much fire, so much pain, too many people were in his head, too many were screaming and accusing and dying over and over and over why wouldn't they stop just make it stop.
And then it had.
As if they'd heard his silent plea, the voices faded to nothing and the fire backed away, and all that was left was the ache of his bones and the blessed silence they'd granted him. But those hands were still there, holding him tightly and shaking him desperately. He ignored them for a moment longer, inhaling a small, trembling breath into his deprived lungs before he dared to crack his eyes open.
They were blurry, and he realized it was not due to the smoke from the fires but from his tears as he blinked them away and found Arthur kneeling next to him, a level of concern and fear on his face that he hadn't seen before.
Slowly uncurling his body, Merlin pulled his head from his hands and blinked against the light, allowing his friend to grab his arms and ease him up. The decision was a poor one in the warlock's mind, his stomach lurching as he nearly pitched over, held steady where he sat only by Arthur's firm hands.
Closing his eyes and taking a breath, he felt Arthur shake him again. What was he doing, trying to rattle his head more than it had been? Reluctantly opening his eyes, he focused on Arthur's face, trying to force a reassuring smile that wouldn't quite come. He must have already killed the sorcerer because he seemed unconcerned with anything but the servant in front of him.
And that was when he noticed it.
The way Arthur's lips moved, forming a word over and over again that he couldn't make out. 'Speak louder' he tried to say, but his throat was raw, and he found the words stuck inside. Why wasn't he speaking louder? Why was he trying to whisper? It wasn't even that.. loud.
No, it wasn't loud around them at all. It was silent. Completely, unnervingly silent. No birds were chirping, no water running, no breeze making the trees shudder from its breath.
Looking away from Arthur, Merlin stared at the trees around them, watching them intently. The branches were swaying, the leaves battling against one another, and Arthur was still mouthing something in front of him.
His body knew before his head did.
Panic began rising in his chest as his gaze fell, eyes staring hard at his hands. Hands that were calloused from years of work, hands that were propped weakly against his knees. He was back to staring at Arthur and he was no longer trying to speak, he merely stared.
He looked so concerned, so afraid. Expressions like those never crossed the king's face in the presence of others, and Merlin himself had only seen them rarely, and never to this extent. But he continued to stare, because he couldn't look anywhere else, because as his hand lifted to his head, he himself was afraid.
The pain was like lightening, striking against his ear and shooting through his head so hard and fast he grimaced while those hands tightened around his arms. And as his own pulled away, as they fell back to his lap, his head finally came to the same conclusion that his body had moments ago.
Because there was no way to deny it now. No way to ignore the crimson that stained his fingers. No other way to explain why Arthur had decided now to make himself silent though his lips continued to form words.
Merlin's head tilted up, his eyes meeting Arthur's once more, and he felt his body go cold. There was only one word on Arthur's lips. One word, over and over. And he finally understood what he was saying.
Merlin.
He was saying his name, but he couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything at all.