Chapter Seven
Arthur takes a deep breath then lets it out slowly. There are times when he hates being king. When the responsibilities are too much for just one man. When the duties are too heavy for his feeble shoulders.
When he knows he is not enough for his people.
"Your Majesty?"
They're all looking at him for answers and Arthur doesn't have any. He doesn't know how to make these kinds of decisions, how to make sure everyone is treated fairly, how to guarantee this doesn't happen again. He wants to run away. Wants to scream and lock himself up. Wants to throw away his birthright and give the crown to someone far more worthy than he.
But he is king, and his people are looking to him for answers, so he takes another deep breath and straightens his shoulders, readjusts the crown on his head, strengthens his mask, and answers the people crying for retribution from the thieves. He hands out sentences and judges the criminals. He calms the victims and offers aid to the family who was hurt.
He wonders, as he listens to each petitioner, if they think he is as unworthy as he himself does.
Arthur slips the door closed and calls out a greeting to Merlin even as he lets the hated mask slip off at the door.
"Sire," Merlin murmurs quietly, watching him as he unbuckles his cape and takes off the heavy crown with a sigh he can't quite contain. "Long day?" Merlin ventures.
Arthur can only nod, "Aren't they all?" he steps closer, ready to once again delve into trying to take care of his servant—it's better to do it first and get it over with, "Are you ready?"
Merlin shakes his head, "Not now."
"You need tended to!" Arthur exclaims in surprise, "You can't just pretend these away no matter how much you try."
"It's okay, Sire, I'm not giving up," he hesitates, opens his mouth, then shakes his head and shrugs.
"Merlin" Arthur demands. He finds himself inexplicably angry at the whole situation, he wants to yell and shake some sense into his servant, wants this whole nightmare to be over already.
"I—just not right now, please," Merlin whispers and there's something lost in his expression; he sounds utterly exhausted and Arthur finds the anger fading as quickly as it had come, "I'm just not up for it right now. Please?"
"Please Arthur, I know you—you can stop this, please, just stop this, Arthur!"
Arthur swallows, his mouth dry as he flashes back to chains and blood and pain. He nods because how can he not answer Merlin's pleas now? "Okay."
Merlin smiles wearily, "Thanks," Arthur slides down across from him and watches as his eyes flicker and shivers wrack his body.
"You're worse," It's not really a question but he wishes it was.
"Long day," Merlin smirks and Arthur can't help but respond with his own small smile. "Anything you want to talk about?"
"Maybe later."
Merlin forces his eyes open to look at him and Arthur struggles to meet his gaze; there's something unreadable about his servant right now but he doesn't know how to ask. He doesn't know if he can afford to know the answer.
"You?" Arthur offers; he wants to know, wants to help, but he also wants to break that gaze that sees right through him to his very soul. His soul which is torn and dirty and unworthy.
"Not really."
"Copy-cat," Arthur mutters without malice but Merlin only shrugs.
They lapse into silence; Merlin doesn't sleep, he only watches Arthur through the night, his voice silent.
"I don't understand," Arthur ventures one evening, after tending to Merlin. His hands still shake from the horror of the task he has set himself. "I remember...everything—well I think I do—but...it was me," these are the words he's scared of uttering out loud, worried that Merlin will retract that sliver of hope that assuages a tiny part of Arthur's guilt.
Selfishly he wishes that Merlin had other words, words that could take all of Arthur's guilt and his shame and his uncertainty and his doubt away. Words that could absolve Arthur of every sin he has ever committed. Words that would make this all go away—not just relegated to their past but away, make it where this had never happened in the first place. Make it so Arthur is clean and not covered in Merlin's blood.
Merlin hesitates for a long moment, but Arthur waits patiently; it's a long process for both of them but Arthur is getting better at waiting for Merlin to slip past his own masks that he's spent years building and tell Arthur everything. His patience is rewarded when Merlin shrugs ever so slightly so as not to tear open the stitches that Arthur had painstakingly stitched, "Enchantments are tricky things; some you know aren't you and so you fight and fight with everything that makes you you, until the enchantment is broken or you die," Arthur can't help his shiver and Merlin smiles sadly but he doesn't comment on it, "Some enchantments are only there for a moment and gone in the next once their purpose is complete.
"And... And some enchantments slip in unawares and they change you; the very way you think, the way you act, the way you talk. They take you and they completely twist you into their own and you can't do a single thing about it."
It takes Arthur no time at all to realize that Merlin isn't talking like somebody who had just gleaned this knowledge from an old, forbidden book. No, he talks with the air of experience and Arthur isn't sure he wants to know when or where or how Merlin had gained it.
He's not sure about a lot of things these days.
"Did you read that in a book too?" he asks thinking back to a conversation about destiny and love—one of the many, many times when Merlin had spoken with a wisdom that far belied his years.
Merlin laughs but there's a slightly dark edge to it, "No, I didn't read it," he replies; infinite sadness written in his eyes.
"Do I want to know?" Arthur whispers and wonders how many more secrets one man can hold. He wonders if he himself is strong enough to hold all of them and keep them locked away and never let them see the light of day.
Merlin's face softens and he smiles—a real smile, not one that hints of darkness and sorrow, not one that evades with simplicity and joy, just...just Merlin. "I'm not sure but if you do, I'll tell you."
Arthur looks at him for a long time; trying to weigh his sincerity, trying to understand if Merlin wants him to know or wishes it could all stay locked in the past. But all he can really think is how much it must have cost Merlin to say that, to promise so much with so few words and in that Arthur knows he has his answer, "Maybe another time."
"Just because you don't remember being under someone else's control doesn't mean that you weren't," Merlin assures him and Arthur feels another small part of his burden lifted, not nearly enough for him to fully breathe but a little bit of air slips past the guilt.
"How do we find out for sure who it is? And how do we stop them?"
They're the questions they've been dancing around since Arthur had accepted the memories, he wishes weren't his own but they're no closer to an answer now. Though Arthur is quite certain he knows who—Morgana hasn't hidden her hatred of them in the past, but he can't rule out any other suspects. As to how to stop them he has no idea.
Merlin frowns and looks ahead of him instead of at Arthur. But this is nothing new; he always does this when they plan as if he can see into the future and come up with the right answer.
Maybe he can.
"Can you see the future?" Arthur blurts out without even thinking about the ramifications of asking such things.
Merlin starts back and jerks wide eyes to him. "What?"
"Well...you always come up with a plan when we need one. Is—is that because you can...you know, see into," Arthur waves his hands in the air for lack of better words, "the future?"
Merlin looks at him for a moment like he can't decide whether to laugh or cry. Finally, he clears his throat, "Um, no. Not really—I mean I have before but it's not..." he trails off, shaking his head.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to—it's not like I know!" Arthur defends himself uncertainly, feeling strangely embarrassed.
Merlin nods and pats the air, "I know, I'm sorry, this is just all so new to me too, so just um..." He trails off then takes a deep breath and continues in a patient tone, "Okay, um I can't see into the future like right now—not yet, at least, Kilgarrah seems to think I'll learn how. But for now, I need something to focus on, like certain objects to channel the ma—" he clears his throat awkwardly, "to channel the magic into. And you can't really control what you're seeing, to a certain extent I guess you can—but you would have to be pretty talented to be able to do that, and if you're not then you just see general images, flashes of what could be. Like me, that's—that's what I see."
"Oh," Arthur says for lack of anything else. How did you look at someone the same when they admitted that they were powerful enough to look into the future, to glimpse into the unknown, to see possibilities beyond the present moment? How did you even react to learning something like that?
"Sorry, is that too much?" Merlin suddenly seems to shrink into himself and he watches Arthur with something akin to fear. It's not fear though, Arthur has seen Merlin afraid and this isn't it, but he can't quite name what it is.
"No, I just...this is new, and it will take a bit to get used to for both of us," Arthur replies and wonders again how and why he's so calm about this. He's let Merlin use sorcery on him but talking about it, openly and without malice or suspicion has suddenly brought up so many new things to worry about that he hasn't thought of before.
What happens if Merlin dies—no, never that, please! Arthur can't forget—or he doesn't think he can forget what has happened, and it occurs to him that he might have to rethink several things first in his life then in his kingdom.
And what happens if Merlin, somehow, miraculously lives? Arthur can't, he will not execute him no matter how many laws he's broken. And the thought of banishing him is laughable because Arthur can't even get through one day without him let alone a life without Merlin by his side.
"I'm sorry," Merlin apologizes out of the blue but Arthur waves it away.
He hesitates then decides it's better to ask now while he wears his mask of courage rather than later, "What did you see, when you looked into the future?"
A sudden tension fills the room; Merlin's hands tighten into fists and he clenches his jaw hard enough Arthur can hear his teeth grinding together.
"That good?" Arthur tries to break the sudden silence, but it doesn't help. Maybe he doesn't want to hear the answer after all; he needs to live in the hope of a better world to get through this murky present.
"I've seen many things," Merlin finally answers. He looks at his fists and gradually unclenches them, lets out a breath, and flexes his jaw. "Some things have already come to pass, despite my best efforts, I'm sorry to say."
Arthur casts his mind back and decides it's best not to know exactly what Merlin might have known beforehand. The dragon's wrath. Morgana's betrayals. The doracha tearing into their world and dragging so many to their icy domain. Uther's death. Agravaine's betrayal. Gwen's betrayal. So many tragedies that Merlin might have tried to stop before they even began.
"And some haven't yet come to be; but it's hard to pinpoint how far in the future they're supposed to come to pass" Merlin sighs again and Arthur can hear the heavy burden that Merlin carries. That he's carried for so long and Arthur has never understood—noticed, yes but with no context. And now, here he can understand.
It makes him both sorrowful and weary. Sorrowful for all the times he couldn't be there for Merlin and weary for the burdens he has only now begun to share and already they seem too heavy to bear.
"But nothing is written in stone," Merlin suddenly says with steel in his voice and ice in his eyes.
And Arthur knows he's seeing a side of Merlin not many people live to walk away from.
Arthur chances a glance at the mirror; he stands tall and his chin is raised confidently, and his eyes hold nothing but assured power. He looks as if he has every right to the crown. He looks as if he has no cares in the world; as if everything is fine.
But it's just a mask—a lie really.
Sometimes, Arthur thinks, a mask is all he is.
And all he'll ever be.
George holds the door open for Arthur, his eyes down, his voice silent. Arthur holds back the sigh that threatens to slip out in the face of this perfect servant that does everything right and Arthur is thoroughly sick of.
He's not quite through the doorway when the door bangs shut, catching his foot and causing him to stumble.
"Your Highness! I am so sorry!" George wails in horror.
Arthur catches himself, a hand on the wall and turns to tell the servant it's fine, no harm done when the words die in his throat.
He's not sure why but he knows, somehow, that the 'mistake' had been no such thing. He can't imagine what anyone would gain from something as little as this, but he knows this was no accident.
George keeps apologizing, quailing in the face of Arthur's silence, begging forgiveness.
Arthur clears his throat and tries to pretend he doesn't know anything is wrong, "It's fine. Mistakes happen all the time."
When they're not speaking about the future and magic and Arthur's doubts, then Arthur will recount everything about his day. Everyone he spoke to, the looks he had observed, their actions, their tone of voice. Maybe it should feel like spying, but it's no different than Arthur has done so many times in his life.
An observant king is often a breathing king.
It's not easy noticing the shifts, and Arthur understands why Merlin hadn't felt he could explain it before Arthur remembered everything; it's not obvious, it's not like his people are suddenly going around acting like somebody is in their mind, controlling their actions. They're them just...slightly off.
Like Percival when he spoke Arthur's name with just a hint of warning then looked confused and avoided him.
Like George when he bowed and said, "Yes, Sire," just a bit bitterly then in the next moment apologized and spent the rest of the day trying to make up for it.
Like Gaius when he handed a bottle absentmindedly to Arthur before snatching it away from him with wide, terrified eyes.
Like Geoffrey when he moved just a little aggressively toward Arthur before he stumbled over nothing, like Mary when his food was delivered stone cold, like Leon when he spoke just a bit too passively, like a villager who stumbled in front of Arthur's horse then ran away shouting apologies behind him.
It isn't anything that Arthur would assume meant anything other than a bad day here and there but when he reports to Merlin the servant's eyes turn darker and darker and Arthur knows it's not just a bad day.
It's something so much worse.