A/N Hi! It's Merlyn again. If you don't know me, and want to know more, just go to my profile. If not, then continue.
So, seeing as I am taking a break from 'HUMAN', and I need at least one multi-chapter Merlin fic, I merged a few of my ideas to create this, whatever this is. I was originally going to do three ghosts, like there are in a Christmas Carol, but then this diary idea randomly came to me, and the ghosts are already overdone. Although... in terms of how good a diary will be... I don't know.
Updates will be on Fridays. Most of the time, a Friday will not be skipped unless I've been procrastinating and therefore end up with a huge heap of work (like now, which is why I should be doing music). Chapter lengths slightly longer than I usually do them. There will not be much Merlin-Arthur interaction in this story (I know, my heart broke too), as they will be away from each other, but I'll try and include as much as I can. There is no slash, as usual. Also there will be one or two OCs, but I don't like including them all that much so they will not be an integral part of the story. This is set after Morgana's been chained up in a well for 2 years, but before S5. And, yeah. That's all you need to know. On with the story!
DISCLAIMER: I totally own Merlin and I shall not hear otherwise.
Summary: Merlin is sent away when his magic is revealed to Arthur. Despite being far from Camelot, he must again save the day when a plot to kill the king comes around. Meanwhile, in the castle, Arthur is wondering how he will ever get over Merlin's magic, until, that is, he finds his manservant's secret diary... set between S4&5. Reveal!fic. Friday updates.
"Get out."
Merlin's face is crestfallen. "Arthur I-" His tone is pleading, heartbreaking, and Arthur would have hugged his manservant then and there if it wasn't for the whisper in the back of his head. Lies, it's all lies, lies, lies…
"Get. Out." Arthur repeats firmly, "Out of here, out of Camelot."
"Arthur, you need me-" Merlin croaks, voice barely above a whisper, eyes moist and glistening with unshed tears.
"Out! Now!" He barks, voice louder than intended. His mind is in turmoil.
Merlin flinches as though he's been slapped, but doesn't dare speak. Instead, he slinks out of the door, a dejected figure. He opens his mouth, as though he wants to say something, but then seems to think better and closes it robotically, shutting the door with a quiet thud, eyes dark with misery and rejection. There is something so different about his demeanor, so quiet and accepting in his hunched shoulders, as though he had already anticipated the worst. Arthur isn't used to it. He wants to go and comfort the servant, but he forces himself not to. This isn't the Merlin he thought he knew. This Merlin is a liar, a cheat. Golden eyes, stoic features, power leaking from every particle of his being. This Merlin isn't the sweet, clumsy, loyal idiot he thought he knew. But he knows it now. And it hurts. More than he could have ever imagined.
Arthur walks over and sits at his desk, limbs stiff with disbelief, head in hands. He presses his palms over his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears prickling on their surface. A few betray him, wetting his hands, sliding down his cheeks. He sniffs quickly and wipes them away. Nothing will ever be the same now. He knows that. Merlin had been his rock, along with Guinevere, the two pillars that would never crumble. And now they had. Or, at least, one of them had. And when a single pillar crumbles, then the whole castle will fall. He could still hardly believe it. The icy cold shock, the deadly realization and the words: 'get out'. That Merlin had magic. Merlin!
It isn't the magic that angers him so much - or, at least, not in a way - it is more the fact that Merlin has lied and pretended for so many years. Is their friendship even real? Has Merlin just been acting the whole time? Does he just want something from him? Sorcerers always have their own agenda. Arthur doesn't want to believe it; he just wants to wake up and see everything as normal, but the sickening truth has settled itself at the pit of his stomach. Merlin isn't Merlin. Not the one he knew. The whole servant thing had just been a façade. He has to face that.
Arthur bashes his head against the desk and groans. He hears the door creak open, and light, quick footsteps cross his chambers, but he doesn't look up.
"What am going to do, Guinevere?"
"I cannot tell you what to do, Arthur," comes his queen's soft, lilting voice, "but I know in my heart that Merlin is a good man, and would only ever use his magic to help you."
Arthur feels a pair of hands gently massage his shoulders. He closes his eyes, "magic is outlawed," he says, "an evil in itself. I have seen firsthand the corruption it can cause. Magic killed my father and magic killed my mother."
"Magic did not kill your father, Arthur. He was dying already. That sorcerer did all he could."
"Yes, but why? All the Pendragons had ever done was persecute his kind. I was in a vulnerable position, and he wanted to manipulate me into bringing back what my father had dedicated years to eradicating. I was a fool to trust him. Just like I was with Morgana, and Agravaine… and Merlin."
"You were not a fool, Arthur," says Gwen comfortingly, "your father at the brink of death: you did what you thought was right. Your determination to see good in people that makes me love you all the more." She places a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. Arthur gives a tiny smile, despite his troubles.
Gwen sighs, "I talked to Merlin."
"You did what?" he splutters.
"He told me to tell you that he only ever used his magic to save your life, and that he was born with it."
"How can you be born with magic?" Arthur protests.
"Morgana was."
He grimaces.
"Okay, maybe that was a bad example, but my point is that Merlin really could help it. It was as instinctual for him as it is for you to blink, or breathe. He could perform magic since he was a child. Are you telling me that a baby is evil because it was born with something it couldn't help?"
"Some people are burdened with this curse. Others opt to have it. Perhaps magic slowly corrupts your soul. Perhaps it is just a curse."
"I don't think this is about magic at all, Arthur. You're not Uther. You don't truly believe that. I think you're upset that Merlin lied to you."
"Well, maybe I am. What of it?"
"You're using the magic as an excuse. You're hurt that your best friend-"
Arthur opens his mouth to object.
"-don't deny it. You're hurt that he never told you. You think that just because he has magic he's a different person."
He sighs, resigned. "You always did know me best, Guinevere... How come you are so calm about all this?"
"I guess I already had my suspicions," she said, sitting down beside him, "Merlin just confirmed that they were true. I haven't been raised to believe that magic an evil. It is a crime according the law, yes, but I have always had my doubts about it. I cannot believe that Merlin would ever intentionally cause another harm."
Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, "I don't think I can face those eyes without seeing gold, without seeing magic and power and lies and treason beyond anything I experienced with Morgana. Treason, Guinevere, treachery. And such power I can hardly believe belongs to Merlin."
"Just... keep in mind that Merlin is a good man, and he would never do anything to harm you. But the decision is yours." With these words and another gentle kiss, Gwen makes to leave, long velvet dress flowing behind her.
"He can't stay here." The words tumble from Arthur's mouth before he can stop them.
She turns, with a melancholic expression and sad brown eyes, "Don't make the same mistake you did with me, Arthur. Don't send him away from Camelot."
"No, you got me wrong. I'll- I'll just give him a few weeks off. A few months. Away from the castle; away from Camelot. It'll give me chance to decide what I'm going to do."
The queen gives a comforting smile, "That would be be a start." She turns and leaves the room.
"Thank you," Arthur whispers quietly, "thank you for everything, Guinevere."
"He told me to go, Gaius," Merlin's voice cracks as he opens the door.
"Oh, my boy." Merlin allowed himself to be enveloped in a hug. He wiped away his tears and exhaled shakily.
"It's fine," he broke away from his mentor, pushing past him to go pack, "it's what I expected. He doesn't know what to think. He just needs time." Merlin nodded, as though trying to reassure himself, "just some time."
Gaius gave a sad smile and watched his ward drift miserably into his room.
The door creaks shut and Merlin rubbed his eyes with fists.
Get out.
He had never heard such ice, such resentment and betrayal in Arthur's voice. At least, not directed towards him. Arthur had said some cruel things, but they were never in malice, or in spite, and so Merlin had always covered just how much they hurt him. But now? Now he didn't think he could. The pain was too great.
Get out.
Merlin sat down, chin resting on his breast. He sniffed and wiped away the tears he had hardly realized had fallen. It would be alright. He could only tell himself that. There was nothing else he could do. He wouldn't be the one to break Arthur. He wouldn't.
How must his friend be feeling right now? He would be so betrayed, knowing that Merlin had lied to him.
Get. Out.
Merlin's thin fingers caressed a thick, leather-bound diary. From the pages, he pulled out a piece of parchment slotted between them and twisted a quill in his hands. More tears stained the parchment. It was covered in his neat, slanted writing and had been folded so many times it's falling apart at the crease. Merlin's eyes skimmed over it - he already knows the words off by heart - reading the letter for the final time in a thousand. Dear Arthur,
The more Arthur thought about it, the less it made sense. Why would Merlin, a sorcerer, ever come to Camelot? Why would he save Arthur's life repeatedly? Why would he die for someone who would have his kind executed in an instant? Why would he face every single one of Arthur's taunts, muck out his stables when he could have killed him in an instant?
Arthur remembered all of their friendly conversations, but now he saw them all through a different lens. All those times Merlin had lied to him without a second though, concealed his identity.
You know, Merlin, you couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it!
You'd be surprised!
How little did he know of his servant? A man he though he knew every nook and cranny of, knew inside out, was just a vizard to the person inside. He'd always thought of Merlin as an open book. A clumsy, bumbling, naive, loyal, brave-to-a-fault idiot who would blurt out the truth in a second, like he'd done with Gwaine and the cup of life. But he was not.
Arthur now realised that, for all Merlin's rambling, he had never really talked about himself, his grievances and misfortunes, his past life. It was always about the dew on the grass in the morning, or what the stable boy had said. Something ridiculously cheerful, but Arthur had never once considered the smiles being faked.
And what would you know about magic Merlin?
Nothing at all, sire.
The lie seemed to slip through his tongue so easily. All those times Arthur had called Merlin an idiot, when he had been the real idiot. And how powerful was Merlin's magic exactly? As poor as his sword-fighting skills? Perhaps, but he was born with it, so it came naturally, so maybe he was more powerful.
What did it matter, anyway? Accepting magic was one thing, but to encourage it, nurture it like you would a physician's skills, or an artist's, or a warrior's? For that Arthur would have to rethink his whole philosophy. That would place magic in the category of 'skills', and Arthur had been raised to hate it. He would have to reinvent himself completely.
I could take you apart in one blow!
And I could take you apart with less than that.
Arthur let out a yell and kicked his wardrobe in a bout of fury. Why, Merlin? He stalked out of the room, chest heaving, mind still in turmoil, to go an take out his anger on a training dummy.
Merlin finished packing his things. He owned little, and was bringing even less: a lighter pack made for easier travel and lowered the likelihood of bandits. Everything fit neatly into a satchel, which was grey and fraying.
"Merlin."
Merlin turned to see Gaius.
"You can't seriously be going. Arthur was just angry."
"And he had every right to be," Merlin said softly. He closed his eyes, "the sight of me hurts him, Gaius. I know it does. I know Arthur better than I know myself, and it's going to take him time. Morgana's not attacked Camelot for years now. And, if she does, I'll be the first to know. Besides," and here he opened his eyes and hefted his bag onto a shoulder, "I need to see my mother, and Arthur needs space to think. There could not be a more perfect time to leave."
Gaius nodded understandingly, "I suppose I forgot. It has been long since you last saw Hunith. You must miss her."
Merlin didn't answer. He had faced greater things than missing his mother. He walked past his mentor and put a hand on the door.
"Surely you're not going to leave right now, though," Gaius called, "this isn't the Merlin I knew."
Merlin turned, his features stony. "We both know that Merlin died long ago," he said, voice harsh from suppressed tears, "if he had stayed, none of us would be alive today." Merlin pushed open the door and left, lonliness and sorrow weighing down his heart heavier than ever before.
There was a light drizzle outside. Arthur was drenched with sweat. His limbs ached from exertion, and the only thing in worse condition than him was the training dummy. On any other other occasion, Arthur would have dropped from pure exhaustion. But he didn't. He was too angry. And so he aimed cruel slashes and jabs, half of him pretending they were at Merlin, the other half pretending they were at at life. Most of the time there was a beauty in sword craft, an intelligence, an elegance, but all this had was a bitter truth. Rather like Merlin's magic, if he was being honest.
"Arthur."
Speak of the devil.
"What do you want, Merlin?" Arthur asked coldly.
He turned to see his manservant, and froze. All the feelings he'd worked so hard to fight off came flooding back at the sight of those eyes. Arthur could almost see them flashing gold now. How could he have been so blind? He resisted the urge to fall to his knees and sob like girl.
Merlin cringed. "I just..." he said in a small voice, "I wanted to know if you really want me gone."
Arthur continued to stare and him, and Merlin averted his eyes submissively. "What do you think?" he said, tone hostile.
Merlin looked up. He was taller than Arthur by an inch or two. Their eyes met again, and Arthur could clearly see the layers of barriers that stood behind those dark blue irises. "I'm sorry," Merlin said quietly, "I- I never meant to hurt you. I never mean to betray you." He looked back down again, his fingers fumbling and restless.
"It's a little too late for that, isn't it?" The ice in Arthur's voice was almost tangible.
He saw something shatter inside of Merlin as the servant gave a nod of acknowledgement, accepting the truth, and turned to go. But Arthur's emotions were too muddled for him to feel guilty, and there was anger and hurt pulsating inside of him, coursing like poison through his veins.
"You know, Merlin," Arthur couldn't stop the words that came tumbling out of his mouth, and he hated himself for it. He looked down at the muddied grass, wet with the rain.
Merlin turned, eyes alight with such a fierce hope he could scarcely fight down.
"All those jokes about not caring for you, they were just that. I never really meant any of them. I thought- I thought that we were friends, that we both cared for each other," He turned away, "guess I was wrong."
"I care for you. A lot," Merlin blurted as Arthur began to walk away.
Arthur halted. "I know," he said, and strode out of the training field, leaving Merlin staring behind him, the untold message ringing in his ears.
"There is one sad truth in life I've found
While journeying East and West -
The only folks we really wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal many a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best."
-Ella Wheeler Wilcox
A/N Well, that's chapter one. Don't hate Arthur. You can't blame him. The tense switch was deliberate, but because I was writing in the present tense at the start, it kept mixing with the past and I had to go through the story a hundred times to sort it out. I've also left the reveal purposefully vague; it's up to your imagination guys. Also I've been going through my (very long) list of favourite quotes recently, and I can't help but include them in some of my chapters, because they are amazing. I don't yet have a beta for this story, so feel free to point out any typos in the review, which will be answered by PM. I have written the next part of HUMAN and will continue at some point. Next time, we will look at Merlin's journey, and the chapter after that Arthur's. And... that is it! Follow, fave, review and I'll see you next Friday, shall I?