Chapter Five: Stranger, Servant, Adviser, Friend—Merlin
Arthur is lost in a sea of dreams (or are they memories?). He can't find his way to the light (to consciousness). There are voices and sounds and they hurt (oh, he hurts so much), but he can't make himself wake up.
He tries to call for Gaius but his voice is silent (swallowed up by waves of pain). He tries again but nobody hears his pleas for help.
"He can't die! It is my destiny to protect him! We haven't done all the things we're meant to do." That's Merlin's voice, but his words mean nothing to Arthur.
He's floating now; he hears the voices but he can't grasp at their meanings (they are simply sound to his ears).
"That is the lament of all men." A different voice (one he should recognize but fails too).
Arthur drifts from the conversation, carried away by the caress of darkness.
At one point in time, Arthur tries to remember what could possibly have led him here to this wandering existence (to this pain) but all he can catch are delusional monsters of his imagining (monsters taller than trees, monsters with the head of a snake but the body of something else, monsters that roar and tear, monsters that kill his men).
Arthur shudders and tries to run from the creature that jumps on him and bites him with tearing teeth that pierce through his armor as if it isn't even there. ("Sleep, Arthur." A calming voice, a cooling touch, and a comforting presence chase away the nightmares.)
Arthur's lost again, wandering in and out of times.
"Gauis, he's my friend." Merlin's voice is determined but there's desperation mixed in (Arthur wonders who could possibly place such purpose in that voice).
"Then save him," Gaius responds (it's a command, permission, acceptance). Save who, though? (Arthur tries to get up to help them before he realizes that the voices are only in his mind.)
"Who are you to tell me what I'm thinking?" he asks his servant, throwing things into a pack haphazardly (why is he leaving?).
"I'm your friend," Merlin answers softly but with no hesitation (as if their friendship is not something to be marveled at).
"No, Merlin, you're my servant!" His own voice low and cruel, taking those words and throwing them back into Merlin's face (no, he doesn't mean them, why would he say them with such anger?).
"You don't know what you're doing." Merlin hides the hurt from his voice well but it's written clearly in his eyes. "She's cast a spell on you. You're enchanted!" (Arthur's mind pauses, where had these words even come from?)
"I told you people would try to keep us apart." A voice, seductive and sweet and yet there's danger underneath those words. (Arthur cannot see whom this voice belongs to but whoever it is sends chills running through him.)
"They're planning to sacrifice you." In the dream Arthur barely hears his servant, his head is pounding and he feels like he may pass out at any moment.
"You let your servants talk to your guests this way?" A different voice now (one that Arthur doesn't know at all but he recognizes the power in it).
"You have to believe me!" Merlin is desperate now, begging him with all that he is, but there is a voice whispering warmth in Arthur's ear and he barely even realizes that he is not alone.
"She's going to kill you. Sophia plans to sacrifice you to buy a life of immortality."
There are things going on around him, shouts and cries, but Arthur is only aware of the voice beckoning him nearer the edge of sanity and the words are so sweet that he jumps over the edge without hesitation. "I see everything." (His words, his voice, but not his mind.)
There is a flash of light, a loud crack, and a deathly silence. The dream-Arthur turns and walks away without caring. (But Arthur sees his servant hit the wall with a sickening crack, his head colliding with it hard and then he is deathly still).
And then all of a sudden Arthur is drowning in water and dirt and he doesn't fight because his mind is no longer his own. Strong, calloused hands are grabbing at him, pulling him into air and wind, and he can breathe again, and suddenly he cares about living once more.
Arthur is running, running through a forest, behind him is terror personified and he cannot stop. But he hears a crash behind him and knows instantly that it is Merlin (clumsy idiot!). He turns back and spots his servant several steps behind, scrabbling madly to get up. Arthur runs and grabs him by his shoulders, putting him on his feet and pushing him onwards, ever onwards. But it's not fast enough. There's a scream and Arthur recognizes Sir Bedivere (his Knight, his friend). They stare at each other (prince and servant) as they listen to a man's (a good man's) life ending.
Arthur is standing on the battlements looking at his people (his beautiful kingdom made up of so many different lives) and feels only sadness (and a deep, crushing disappointment in his father).
Merlin is there with him, a solid presence at his side (one that Arthur is grateful for even in this time of hunger and thirst and death).
"They do not yet know there is worse to come," Arthur confides in a low voice (desperate to release this burden).
"What do you mean?" Merlin asks, worry and confusion making him frown.
Arthur almost doesn't continue but he cannot bear this weight alone, cannot keep these words bottled up so he answers, "My father is going to stop distributing food to the people. They are to be left to starve." There is bitterness in his voice (for his father and for himself because, no matter how he wishes he did not, he understands this choice). "I had the chance to lift the curse. And I failed them."
"You weren't to know you were being tested," Merlin defends him easily (Arthur wonders why he even tries), his eyes looking at him in pity.
"My people are starving. Camelot is on the verge of collapse. And it is all my doing." Arthur looks once more at his people then strides away, leaving them all behind him.
He is out hunting with his Knights and his servant (if you can call it hunting with said servant dropping everything, including himself, onto every leaf and stick that could possibly make a sound, startling away all the game).
"Do you have any natural talents, Merlin?" he growls in annoyance (at Merlin's uselessness, and himself for bringing him along anyway).
"No. Let me think." Arthur waits impatiently, then with a smile and a twinkle in his eye Merlin responds with, "I'm not naturally rude or insensitive."
"Just naturally irritating," Arthur counters, rolling his eyes (but with this exchange he remembers why he brought him along in the first place).
And then they are running, running fast and far. But Merlin trips and Arthur turns to help him up but he's not fast enough. The monster gets there first and Arthur runs again. He stops, his chest heaving; he's alone as he listens to his friend scream and scream.
Arthur is in pain, struggling to breathe past the cloying darkness trying to choke him. He tries to open his eyes, to stand, to cry out, but he finds himself paralyzed, helpless.
"It didn't bite you. It didn't," Merlin says (but he doesn't sound very confident in his own words). Arthur feels a brief touch on his neck and then the pain flares. "Arthur!" he hears from what seems very far away. "Somebody help me!"
He finds himself tumbling down, down into the embrace of darkness.
Arthur is on fire, being burned away to nothing but nightmares and pain. The fire is burning him alive from the inside out and he wants to scream from it all, wants to cry for help (but nobody can hear him begging).
Then, blessedly, there is the barest of touches, a coolness on his brow. It's not nearly enough to put out the fire, but he leans into it gratefully.
A voice is whispering to him from beyond the flames and he tries (oh, how he tries) to grasp onto them. "You're not going to die, Arthur." (He may not be going to die, but he isn't sure he's going to live either). "I'm telling you because I know that one day you will be king. A greater king than your father could ever be."
The voice is so beautiful, strong and confident, and Arthur is holding onto this voice, these words, with all of his dwindling strength.
"That's what keeps me going." The voice pauses and he desperately searches for it again (but there is only searing blackness).
Until finally, "You are going to be the man I've seen inside you, Arthur. I can see a Camelot that is fair and just. I can see a king that the people will love and be proud to call their sovereign. For the love of Camelot...you have to live."
For the love of Camelot (these words stir up a strength deep inside himself), he must fight.
Arthur grasps the cooling words and holds on with all that he is. He's still on fire, but he will fight these flames.
Arthur is uncertain of anything. Voices and touches and memories and nightmares all roll together and he doesn't know if any of them are reality.
"I know I'm just a servant." The words are low and determined, begging to be believed. "And my word doesn't count for anything." Arthur wants to protest at this blatant untruth, but Merlin continues before he can. "I wouldn't lie to you." The words are a promise, a vow (Arthur fears the loyalty in them).
"I want you to swear to me what you're telling me is true," he demands anyway, searching those eyes for any hint of deception or trickery (if he is going to risk his reputation on Merlin's word alone, he must be sure).
"I swear it's true," Merlin answers without hesitation, without fear.
"Then I believe you." (Was there ever any doubt?)
Arthur stands in front of a crowd, all eyes on him (he's surrounded), all begging him to listen to them, to do what they want (to do what is expected), to do his duty. There's too many and Arthur wants to scream. He knows he will never be enough.
"I believed you." His eyes are closed (he's trying to block out the look of disappointment on his father's face). "I trusted you. You made me look...a complete fool."
"You humiliated me!" he screams (he turns away from this stranger lest he strike him down right then).
"We can still expose Valiant," Merlin says, as if none of it matters (as if what Arthur is feeling is unimportant.)
Arthur is facing the window, but he sees nothing. Quietly, he orders, "I no longer require your services." He's hurt and angry and he wants to lash out and it's all Merlin's fault!
"You're sacking me?" Merlin sounds as if Arthur kicked him but the prince refuses to budge.
"I need a servant I can trust." (And that is most certainly not you, Merlin, with your secrets and your unwavering belief in me.)
"You can trust me!"
Arthur glances at him (Merlin looks upset and horrified) then back at the window (he will not be moved from this). "And look where it got me this time." Arthur sees a glimpse of his father outside and he remembers Uther's crushing disappointment in Arthur and something inside of him snaps. "Get out of my sight!" he screams. (He doesn't look behind him as Merlin walks away.)
He's used to being alone.
The flames burn and burn inside of him and follow him into his nightmares.
The fire flickers brightly in the dark room and Arthur searches it for answers to his problems (the flames are silent to his questions).
There is a small sound and Arthur glances at the open door just in time to see his ex-manservant hesitantly walk forward. "I thought I told you to get out of my sight?" he asks softly but without anger (he's calmed down in the hours alone).
"Don't fight Valiant in the final tomorrow," Merlin starts and Arthur shakes his head, unable to understand the mystery that Merlin presents to him. "He'll use the shield against you."
"I know," Arthur admits, his voice still soft, his eyes still staring into the flickering flames (he wishes that he hadn't listened to Merlin in the first place, wishes that he can un-hear the accusations, wishes that he didn't believe him, but he did listen and now, even after his failure before the court—before his father—he still believes Merlin).
"Then withdraw! You have to withdraw!" Merlin cries in confusion (Arthur wonders how it feels to be free, to be so unburdened by the expectations of everyone around you).
"Don't you understand? I can't withdraw." He tries to explain, finally looking over at him, "The people expect their prince to fight. How can I lead men into battle if they think I'm a coward?"
"Valiant will kill you!" Merlin pleads. "If you fight, you die." (He says it like it is the easiest thing in the world to just decide something for yourself and Arthur cannot help but marvel at that way of thinking—of living.)
"Then I die," Arthur states without emotion.
"How can you go out there and fight like that?" Merlin asks in wonder and Arthur waits for the sarcastic comment to follow but Merlin just looks at him in uncertainty.
"Because I have to. It's my duty."
Merlin looks stricken as if he has never heard something so horrifying then without another word he leaves Arthur alone, staring into the flames once more. (They're still silent).
"It's me! I'm the sorcerer!" Merlin screams and raises his hands; fire races from his palms to encase Uther in death; his eyes shine gold. And Arthur's heart turns to ice.
Arthur is looking down at the courtyard hearing nothing but the wind blowing when Merlin joins him. Arthur glances at him, afraid of what he will see (anger or disappointment or hurt), but Merlin just looks sad.
"I'm sorry," he says in all honesty. "If it were up to me, we'd be on our way there now."
Merlin shrugs. "Well, you tried." (As if that's all that matters.) "And thank you for getting an audience with the king."
Arthur looks down again (how can Merlin thank him for something so mundane in the face of his village being threatened and his mother harmed?). "I wish that Camelot was able to help people regardless of how far away they lived."
Merlin says nothing and Arthur knows that it is a warning. (He wants to keep talking to fill the silence before Merlin can, but he's too late).
"I'm going back to Ealdor," Merlin declares quietly and it is not a surprise (it's expected), but still, it hurts.
Arthur closes his eyes (gathering his strength) then looks at his servant and nods once. His eyes immediately go back to the ground far beneath them. "Of course."
A silence falls on them and Arthur doesn't like it (not one bit), but he doesn't know what to say so he says nothing at all.
"It's been an honor serving you." Merlin's words are serious, final, permanent. (It's sounds as if he thinks he'll never see the prince again).
Arthur looks at him, trying to dispel the thought, but Merlin's eyes are full of sadness and pity. (A flash of fear fills him with dread.) "You'll be coming back," he says, it's neither a question nor a statement.
"She's my mother," Merlin explains apologetically. "I've got to look after her before anyone else. You understand?"
Arthur nods but he feels numb when he answers, "I'd do exactly the same."
There's another silence. Merlin never takes his eyes off of Arthur, and the prince shifts uncomfortably. Arthur has to break it. "Well, you've been terrible. Really, I mean it, the worst servant I've ever had." (The worst servant, but the best friend that Arthur has ever known).
Merlin laughs and agrees with him and Arthur has to look at him than (one last time to remember what it feels like to be treated as a person). "Thank you, Sire," Merlin says and Arthur looks away again.
Merlin walks away.
"Merlin," Arthur calls back (he can't let these be the last words he says to this impossibly strange person). "Good luck."
Merlin nods and leaves to do what he can for a beaten down village and his mother, and Arthur watches him (with an impossible plan forming in his mind).
"Thank you," Merlin says, suddenly breaking away from the talk of strategy. "I know you didn't have to come."
Arthur doesn't know what to say in response; he can't quite meet his eyes, settling instead for making sure the fire has enough wood to keep burning through the rest of the night. He doesn't know how to tell him the truth, explain why he had to come, and make him understand why it had taken so long for him to realize it. (Because Arthur did have to come, for justice, for fairness, for Merlin.)
"Please, no, Arthur you have to believe me!" Merlin is screaming but Arthur is deaf to the traitor's cries. "Arthur, please, you can trust me! I'm your friend!" Arthur lights the pyre and turns away from the screams as the sorcerer burns.
"Let him go," Arthur demands.
"That is not possible. Merlin is part of the test," Anhora refuses, "To end the curse you must prove you will do anything to save your people. A life for a life, a pure heart for a pure heart."
Anhora holds the knife out to him but he cannot take it (the knife nor his servant's life).
"It's alright, Sire," Merlin tells him, tied to the altar. "You can do it. I believe in you."
"No!" Arthur screams (horror making him sick). "This isn't right!"
"I'm not worth the fight, Arthur," Merlin insists. "I'm just a servant. And you're the future king, you need to live."
"Will you sacrifice one life or your kingdom's lives?" Anhora asks in an emotionless voice.
And Arthur knows he has no choice (he never does). He takes the knife and steps to the altar. Merlin never takes his eyes off of him as Arthur plunges the knife into his heart.
The fire in Arthur's veins eats him away and he can hear only his voice screaming in pain.
"It was me!" Merlin cries, shocking the council (and Arthur) into silence, "It was me who used magic to cure Gwen's father!" Merlin looks desperate but his words ring with sincerity (though they are so obviously lies, they must be!) "Gwen is not the sorcerer, I am!" His hands raise at his sides and for one moment (one impossibly long moment), Arthur wonders if it could be true because, there, Merlin does not look anything like a clumsy idiot, but instead looks...powerful (dangerous).
The words are echoing around and around his head ("Gwen is not the sorcerer, I am!").
Then Arthur remembers who he is thinking about and the moment is lost. There is no way that Merlin is a sorcerer.
Sometimes Arthur thinks he feels presences (cooling, soothing presences) that have nothing to do with his delirium, but then when he tries to plead for help, they are never there (perhaps they never were).
"You disobeyed me." Uther's voice is hard and his eyes are cold. (The dungeons are icy and uncomfortable, but Arthur cares only for the flower in his pouch and hopes that he is not too late.)
"Of course I did," he answers. "A man's life is at stake. Do not let Merlin die because of something I did." (Please, just let me save him!)
"Why do you care so much?" Uther asks him, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "The boy's just a servant."
(Merlin is most certainly not, but how can Arthur explain it to his father when he doesn't understand it himself?)
"He knew the danger he was putting himself in; he knew what would happen if he drank from that goblet," Arthur evades with a different truth, "but he did it anyway! He saved my life!"
But Arthur watches in horror as Uther crushes the precious flower that Arthur risked everything for and drops it onto the floor, just out of Arthur's reach. "Then you can find yourself a new servant."
The cell door slams closed and Arthur is frozen for one moment before he falls to the ground, struggling with all that he is to reach Merlin's last hope.
There are ghosts touching Arthur's face and the strangest of tastes in his mouth (it tastes like life).
"I'm proud of you, Arthur," his father tells him, his strong hand on his shoulder, holding his son tightly (it's an unfamiliar touch that Arthur has not felt in a very long time). "Never forget that."
Arthur stands side by side with his father as they overlook their kingdom.
His fist slams into the table. "I was meant to fight him!" he yells. (It's not that he wanted the glory; being confined in a locked room while the sleeping drugs dulled his senses even as he knew his father was risking his life for him has shaken him more than he wants to admit).
"No, you weren't."
"But the Knight's code—"
"Be damned!" Uther interrupts, his eyes staring into Arthur's full of emotion.
Arthur can barely comprehend the words; the Knight's Code was one of the first things ever drilled into him, it is the way they live, it is the way they die, it's everything. And the King just cast it aside like it means nothing.
"I believed you would die," his father continues, "And that was a risk I could not take." (Arthur fully expects another lecture on his safety as sole heir to the throne.) "You are too precious to me." (Arthur is frozen, sure this moment will break if he so much as moves.) "You mean more to me than anything I know. More than this entire kingdom and certainly more than my own life."
Arthur stares at him in shock (he knew his father loved him, never doubted it for a minute, but this declaration?) "I've always thought that..." But he can't bring himself to say it, to interrupt this dream.
"What?"
"That I was a big disappointment to you," Arthur all but whispers uncertainly. (He feels his whole world is changing around him).
Uther looks hurt but not angry. "Well, that is my fault, and not yours." He places his hand on Arthur's shoulder and the prince freezes once more. "You are my only son and I wouldn't wish for another."
They are the words that Arthur has longed to hear (and feared he never would).
And from far away he thinks he hears his father promise, "I will not leave him."
Something is happening to Arthur, the flames are receding but now he's turning into ice and there's nothing he can do to stop it. (Inside his mind, he screams.)
Arthur lies on the cold, hard floor in a poor home (Merlin's home) and thinks about how little he knows of his servant (his friend, whom he is risking life and kingdom for).
"Have you always slept on the floor?" he asks, his voice carrying no further than a few feet away (but far enough).
"Yeah, the bed I've got in Camelot's luxury in comparison," Merlin answers just as softly.
Arthur swallows and tries to wrap his head around this revelation: that a bed (a tiny, lumpy, hard bed) was considered a luxury. Arthur knew (of course) that Merlin had lived a much different life than his own but to be confronted with the truth (with the hardships of Merlin's life written in every crevice of this tiny hole) was a different matter entirely.
"It must have been hard," he answers finally, still imagining what it would be like to have so little, that one meal a day was not always guaranteed.
"Mmm," Merlin murmurs, his voice even softer. "It's like rock."
(It's an out of the conversation should Arthur grab hold of it, but something inside tells him that he needs to know more.)
"I didn't mean the ground," he counters. "I mean for you—it must've been difficult."
"Mmm, not really," Merlin disagrees (like always). "I didn't know any different. Life's simple out here. You eat what you grow and everyone pitches in together. As long as you've got food on the table and a roof over your head, you're happy." Merlin paints a picture of a beautiful life with his words (and it actually sounds wonderful and tempting to be free from the responsibility of so many lives and the pressure of being the future King).
"Sounds...nice," he admits, but he's careful to keep it light.
"You'd hate it," Merlin responds and Arthur can hear the smile in his voice.
"No doubt," he replies wistfully (and there hadn't been until a moment ago when Merlin described freedom from a destiny you didn't choose). But then he frowns, because for all of the peasant's words, he didn't stay to live that picturesque life. "Why did you leave?"
Merlin is silent for a long moment and Arthur waits in the darkness. "Things just changed," he answers finally (but it's not much of one).
"How?"
Merlin falls silent again and Arthur is suddenly aware that he is asking something extremely personal (and that Merlin may not want to answer him). But Merlin doesn't sound uncomfortable, he just seems to be trying to find the right words.
Arthur, now curious if he will be entrusted with whatever the answer is, pushes him with his foot and commands (in a voice that Merlin never listens to), "Come on, stop pretending to be interesting. Tell me."
Then he waits and he waits. Just when he is sure that Merlin will not trust him, Merlin finally says, "I just didn't fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did." (And to anyone else those words might not seem like an adequate explanation but Arthur understands them completely.)
"Had any luck?" He holds his breath, waiting for the answer (that shouldn't be as important to him as it is).
"I'm not sure yet," Merlin replies honestly.
Arthur thinks about that for a moment then smiles in the dark (he counts this conversation as a victory even if it does lead to more questions).
Arthur sharpens the sword in his hand by instinct, his mind spinning around with accusations and doubts. Could he really think to save a whole village? (Was he a fool to even attempt it?) He feels more than sees when he is joined by Merlin (though unsurprised; Merlin has a tendency to arrive when Arthur is filled with doubt).
"William's father was killed fighting for King Cenred. So he doesn't trust anyone of nobility," Merlin explains quietly. (Arthur wonders what words Merlin used to describe him to Will.)
"Do you think the villagers believed him?" he asks, because that's what really matters (not his own pride).
"No. He's always been a troublemaker." Merlin smiles. "They're used to ignoring him."
"And if he's right?" Arthur all but whispers (fearing the answer).
Merlin looks at him in confusion (as if he could not understand the question) and pure...loyalty (complete and total belief in Arthur). "He isn't," he states fiercely (with fire in his voice and steel in his eyes).
Arthur swallows and tries (like he has every other time Merlin has shown such loyalty) to understand why Merlin believes in him so much but (like every other time) Arthur has no answer.
"I'm treating these men like solders and they're not," he argues, looking around at this simple (yet proud) village. "You've seen them fight. They haven't got a clue..." He leans forward in his seat and lets his cowardly plan fall into the air. "We need to tell them all to leave the village before Kanen returns."
Merlin leans forward next to him and Arthur is forced to look over at him (he looks just as determined as always). "No, we're going to stay. We're going to fight," he declares, his voice strong. "And we're going to win." (The words are a vow, a promise, a truth that has not yet come to be).
"Merlin," Arthur shakes his head and tries to get his friend to understand (just because you say something in belief does not actually make it true), "it can't be done. The odds are too great." (How can Merlin not see this?)
"It can," Merlin says forcefully and Arthur looks down again (doubts still spinning 'round his mind) "We're going to make Kanen rue the day he ever came to this village." Arthur presses his hand against his eyes, trying to listen to these words (trying to take this strength that is being offered so freely to him). "All you need to do is get the men ready for battle. And the rest will take care of itself."
Arthur's eyes snap to the man beside him (what was that even supposed to mean?). "How?" he asks simply.
"You've just got to believe in them. Because if you don't, they'll sense it," Merlin answers readily (but his eyes are boring into Arthur's as if he isn't just talking about Ealdor).
The battle for Ealdor is nigh and Arthur feels the same, cold fear that he always feels (there's a battle rage roaring through his veins) before a fight. Merlin begins to dress his prince for battle but Arthur stops him before he can. "No, not today." (Today they will stand side by side, not as prince and servant, but as equals, standing against the unfairness of the world).
Merlin seems confused but he does as he's told (for once). Arthur finishes putting on his armor, preparing himself for the act of taking lives, of risking his own, of accepting the responsibility of leading men and women into their deaths. He looks over at his friend; Merlin keeps his head down, he seems nervous, his shaking hands can't tie the gauntlet.
Arthur (without hesitation) takes his arm and finishes it off (as Merlin has done so many times for him), it seems fitting. Merlin still won't look at him so Arthur gently places his hand on his shoulder (wonders if it feels as strange to him as it did for Arthur when his father had done it to him). "Are you ready?"
Merlin finally glances up at him (his eyes are dark and serious). "My throat's dry."
"Me too," he responds honestly. He drops his hand from his shoulder but then (on impulse) holds out his hand to Merlin (not as a servant, not even as a friend, but as a fellow solder). Merlin looks at it for a long moment then grips his arm as a Knight (as a brother). "It's been an honor."
Arthur turns around to look out the window (they'll be here any moment), he's ready to leave (his goodbye already said) when Merlin stops him. "Whatever happens out there today, please don't think any differently of me," Merlin asks with a low voice, thick with emotion.
Arthur looks at this man (who is willing to step in front of daggers and drink poison and befriend the sole heir to the throne) and wonders how he could ever think any differently of him (the bravest man Arthur has ever met). "I won't," he promises.
The ice has taken hold of him and he feels his mind drifting away into nothing but brief flashes of images and sounds. The pain refuses to let go.
"Merlin is part of the test," Anhora decrees without mercy.
"Why do you care so much? The boy's just a servant?" Uther demands then crushes Merlin's life heedless of Arthur's pleas.
"I've always thought that I was a disappointment to you," Arthur whispers, his heart breaking.
"Gwen is not the sorcerer—I am!" Merlin cries with power in his eyes.
"I'm your friend!" Merlin fights whatever has taken hold of the prince's mind.
"It's more important that you live. You're the future king. I'm just a servant."
"For the love of Camelot, you have to live." A voice from beyond the flames gives strength.
"It's my duty," Arthur intones.
"Thank you," Arthur, Merlin, Gaius, Uther all say at the same time.
The images and sounds are too much and Arthur falls away into oblivion, gratefully accepting its silence.
Arthur opens his eyes to pain (vibrant yet different than before), but he can no longer feel the heat of the fire nor the cold touch of the ice.
His father raises his head and stares at him with wonder and love in his eyes. "Arthur."
Time blurs over the next hours (or days, he's not sure) while he heals. His father checks in on him periodically, unable to contain his smile (or his love). Morgana comes with all the latest court news and troubled eyes (and cold hands brushing gently across his face, as if to reassure herself that he will live). Nobles and Knights come to give him their well wishes (it seems they all thought him dead for sure). Gaius comes once or twice to look him over. Guinevere, the beautiful maidservant, comes to him ("I knew it. I said you'd be alright!") with a smile and he realizes that the sweet voice that had given him strength belonged to her (it does not surprise him).
But of Merlin, Arthur sees no sign.
The door opens quietly and Arthur looks up to see Merlin enter the room, but he stays by the closed door and leans against it, turned away, (as if unwelcome), so that Arthur can't see his face.
"Ah. Merlin," he says (he has noticed his servant's absence and wondered about it).
"How are you?" Merlin asks, his voice soft, his eyes still turned away.
"Good," Arthur answers (though his shoulder hurts and his head is pounding, still it is a far cry from the pain he had been in).
"I'm pleased."
"Yes," Arthur replies as he sits down (he doesn't yet have the strength to stay standing for long). Merlin finally turns to him but stays back still. "And I owe it all to Gaius." For some reason Merlin half smiles (it seems almost sad) and looks down again (as if he knows something that Arthur doesn't).
"I need to talk to you," Merlin says out of the blue (though with Merlin, you never know where the conversation will go).
Arthur (because he's tired and in pain and he could use a bit of fun) can't help but say, "You still haven't got it yet, have you? I decide when we need to talk."
Merlin doesn't take the bait (and Arthur feels a burst of fear, though he doesn't understand why), instead he simply says, "Not today."
Arthur knows (somehow) that he doesn't want to hear whatever it is that Merlin will say (not now, not ever). "I sometimes wonder if you know who I am." he says to put off the moment.
"Oh, I know who are you are." Merlin nods and (finally) takes a few small steps into the room.
"Good." (Ah, now they can have a bit of fun at each other's expense).
"You're a prat," Merlin declares fearlessly, "and a royal one."
Arthur tries to come up with something suitable to say but instead he just laughs (in awe of this servant who never ceases to amaze him). His shoulder begins to cramp and he rubs at it absently (unafraid to show his discomfort in Merlin's presence). "Are you ever going to change, Merlin?" he asks quietly (but he hopes not).
"No," Merlin says, "you'd get bored." (It's light and fun but instead of dispelling Arthur's fear, it only adds to it.) Then still not meeting Arthur's eyes he continues, "But promise me this, if you get another servant, don't get a boot-licker."
Arthur pauses (his mind flashes back to a different goodbye). "If this is you trying to leave your job—"
"No." Merlin doesn't let him finish (and Arthur is grateful). Merlin finally looks at him then, meeting Arthur's eyes with those mysterious, ancient eyes of his and promises, "I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die."
These words send chills through Arthur and every instinct in him is screaming that something is wrong, wrong, wrong! But he doesn't know why, doesn't understand what Merlin is saying, doesn't understand why he's saying these things.
"Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin. Other times..." he trails off. (Other times he thinks he knows Merlin less than when they first met, as if everything they have gone through together has taught him nothing at all).
"Well..." Merlin begins, "I know you." (His eyes have not left Arthur's since he has started.) "You're a great warrior. One day you'll be a great king." (And here they go again, with Merlin's loyalty for no apparent reason.)
"That's very kind of you," Arthur responds in confusion (and concern).
"But you must learn to listen as well as you fight," Merlin adds and Arthur feels a bit of irritation (but also respect for his servant's forwardness).
"Any other pointers?"
"No." Merlin looks down again and Arthur stares at him (he wonders what is going on here because he feels lost in this conversation). "That's it." Another pause then Merlin looks up at him again. "Just don't be a prat," he advises.
Then without another word he turns around and leaves.
Arthur stares after him, trying to understand this man who wormed his way into Arthur's life and past all of his defenses with his sarcasm and bravery, his words and actions, just by being himself. (He tries to ignore the way this conversation has made him feel as if he will never see Merlin again).
Merlin doesn't return to speak with him or to attend to him the next day nor the next. Gwen tells him that the servant is tending to his sick mother (he tries to believe there is nothing more).
Arthur never does figure out that conversation or where it came from but two days later, when Merlin wakes him up ("Rise and shine!") with a wide grin and bright eyes, Arthur decides it doesn't matter.
They go back to the way they have always been and (Arthur hopes) always will be.
Author's Note: Any recognizable dialogue was taken from all the episodes previously mentioned as well as 'Le Morte d'Arthur'.
Well, here we are at the end of season one! I do hope this last chapter wasn't too confusing (I did warn you this was pretty much for my pleasure, didn't I?), and that it was worth the wait, but there were just too many good scenes to choose from! Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure and I hope you had as much fun as reading it as I had writing it! And a big thank you to all those who reviewed or favorited or followed-they mean a lot to me!