The door slammed shut behind Merlin with a force he'd been surprised by had he been thinking clearly enough to notice. Several members of the court - servants and knights alike - offered him nods or friendly greetings but were left confused in his wake as Merlin acknowledged no one.
It lasted only until he'd cleared the citadel walls and then the control shattered. Merlin kicked the wall and he could tell he'd broken something in his foot. Of course he could tell, he was the physician's apprentice. Village boy, the prince's manservant, a secret sorcerer living right under Uther's nose only- Only he wasn't the only one. Arthur was one too, he had magic too. It didn't occur to Merlin to doubt it because what reason would Arthur have to lie about something like this? The king had been been prosecuting innocent people - he'd executed children! And all the while his own son had had magic and Uther had kept it a secret.
There was nothing to make up for the sheer unfairness of the situation, of how wrong it was, (how hurt and betrayed he felt because Arthur had kept this from him and let him live in fear for his life), how nobles really were as big hypocrites as Gwaine had said. And Gwaine had been right, and Merlin had been wrong, and Arthur was a liar, Uther was a liar, Merlin, Morgana, Gaius - they were all liars.
Something very precious in Merlin's world broke and shattered all at once, the golden light in which he always saw Arthur faded away and he realized that he was left with nothing at all.
The pressure mounted to such a point that it became unbearable and Merlin kicked the wall again, howling at the pain that followed. Tears streamed down his face but for once Merlin didn't bother hiding his pain. There was no one around anyway. Or so he thought until a big hand landed on his shoulder and gently steered him the other way.
Merlin resisted weakly only until he recognized the glass smith, Bruin, a burly man with a gentle disposition who took Merlin to his own cottage and sat him down on the kitchen bench. Bruin went over to the where there was a pot simmering and that's when Merlin closed his eyes, feeling too raw and tired to face the world. The next thing he knew there was a bowl of hot stew that smelled different from Gaius' (but still familiar,) being placed in front of him. Merlin managed to get out a "thank you" that he assumed Bruin caught because the deaf smith smiled to him even if worry was evident on his face.
"Gaius?" he scribbled on a piece of paper and Merlin shook his head quickly, not knowing why he was saying no, but he didn't want anyone to see him like this.
"Your foot," Bruin persisted. "You're hurt."
Merlin was expecting Bruin to object again when he shook his head, but he'd underestimated the silent man and how keenly he was watching him for Bruin nodded, and there was a kind of understanding in his eyes that had Merlin looking away.
He tapped the edge of the bowl and Merlin put the spoon in his mouth on instinct more than anything. At least that made Bruin smile a little. He rested his hand on the paper where he'd written another message. "Stay here tonight. Safe."
The last word made Merlin's heart throb painfully and he finished his meal in silence. When he tried to stand up Bruin was there again, helping him to the bed. Merlin's head was spinning, or maybe that was just the world around him, but he was grateful for when he could lie down. Even with the pain in his foot he managed to fall asleep.
"For God's sake someone get him a piece of paper and something to write on!"
One of the stupider guards rushed out the door and Arthur huffed and grabbed writing utensils from his own desk that he gave to Bruin who was cradling something in his palm as careful as if he held a newborn kitten. The red neckerchief in those big hands looked wrong, there was only one place that piece of scratchy cloth belonged and it was not currently there.
For all his worry and careful handling, the smith was not one to waste time. He made use of Arthur's desk with only a fleeting glance to make sure it was alright and started to write.
It had taken Bruin time to get to the prince's chambers but Arthur hadn't dawdled after seeing the neckerchief and realizing what it meant. There had been no sign of Merlin after his revelation two days ago and the mounting feeling of something going terribly wrong had finally culminated to this. His dreams had not warned him.
Nothing of what he felt inside escaped to his features. He hadn't survived this long with his secret by letting people read his emotions so easily. Arthur bent over the paper to the messy scrawl. The message was short:
Merlin hurt. Told him to stay. Gone when I came back. Found this on floor.
As Arthur lifted his eyes from the short message (where had Merlin gone? Had he left Arthur? I'm not evil, Merlin I promise!) Bruin was holding the neckerchief out to him. Arthur barely kept himself from reacting when his fingers came in contact with the cloth and he felt a jolt of... Magic. There was no mistaking it; a faint shimmer of gold was suddenly visible in the air, leading away from the city.
Without thinking about what he was doing, Arthur began to ready himself to ride, and to ride fast. He had a chance to get Merlin back and he wasn't going to give up on him.
When he was set to go, Bruin was still standing there.
Arthur made a noise in the back of his throat and found one of the smaller bags of coins he kept around.
Bruin stopped him with one hand on his wrist. He pointed at himself, Arthur, and then out the window.
"You want to come with me?" Arthur asked, surprised. Only until he remembered who this was about. Of course Merlin would have made friends with the smith on his errands to the man. The confident nod was all he needed and Arthur smiled a little.
"Let's go then." He marched swiftly with Bruin right on his heels - who moved surprisingly quiet for a man of his size - and tossed one of the stable boys a coin. "Two horses, the fastest you have."
The boy scurried off like a pack of hounds were after him, they might as well with how urgently the prince had made his demand.
Another stableboy was stopped as he passed them by. "Tell the king I've received reports of the bandits' lair and am riding out to see if it's true. He will know what I mean."
It was a surprisingly good lie for one made up on the spot. They'd been getting reports for months now of a small group of bandits that moved efficiently, ruthlessly, taking what they wanted and killing all those that stood up to them. The frequency of the attacks had Arthur thinking there wasn't just one group, but the style was the same, as was the aftermath and his father had dismissed the theory. Arthur wished his claim had been taken more seriously. He had been there, it hadn't felt right to blame just one group. But that had been a knight's report, and the prince had bowed his head when faced with the wisdom of the king.
The horses were brought out for them and Arthur mounted his quickly and set for the gates closest to the lower city. It was where the magic trail was leading, but if Bruin asked Arthur could just claim that it made more sense for Merlin to go this way since he'd been in the area last. But Bruin didn't ask and Arthur realized how much easier this would make things for him.
They found the tracks eventually down the road where there wasn't as much traffic. A lone man on horse.
"You said," Arthur began, "that Merlin was hurt. What happened to him?"
Bruin made a motion like snapping a twig and then pointed to his right foot.
"He broke his foot?" Arthur asked. "How did he- never mind, I can think of a number of reasons."
Why had Merlin seen fit to leave with an injury like that? Was he really that disgusted with him?
He should be, whispered a treacherous voice. You've been lying to him all this time, you are the evil that you help your father hunt. Not even loyal to them, how could you be loyal to Camelot? Don't you think the king would be disgusted if he found out? Guinevere? Her father was killed just for associating a sorcerer. You've marked her for death. Just like your mother. You kill everything you love. You are an abomination, Arthur Pendragon.
Nothing broke his gloomy thought process and Arthur realized then that Merlin had always coincidentally tripped whenever Arthur was in deep thought, or insulted him when he was brooding. How had he never noticed before? Arthur had insulted him for tripping over thin air several times and he'd never noticed. Closing his hand tighter around the neckerchief Arthur vowed to bring back Merlin. He belonged in Camelot now and Arthur wasn't going to take that away from him. Gaius and Guinevere deserved better. They all deserved so much better than he could give them.
Hunith pressed a cloth to Merlin's forehead. Her little boy was writhing in bed, lost in one of his nightmares again and nothing she did ever helped but it made her feel better if she could do something, so she sat there and patiently wiped his brow as she murmured to him that everything was going to be fine.
Once she'd managed to wake him and nothing could ever make her forget Merlin's screams as his eyes glowed pure gold. She'd had to turn down all the neighbours that came to check if they were alright.
Merlin himself only remembered being in pain and feeling trapped. When she had asked about the other nightmares he'd just looked at her quizzically.
Hunith sighed and wet the cloth again when the mumbling began. Always the same thing whispered over and over again with increasing urgency:
"Leave him alone! Leave Arthur alone!"