A/N: edited: 8/1/13. Sorry to disappoint, just cleaning up the previous chapters. Hopefully, you'll see a marked improvement :D.
His feet ached. His face hurt from smiling so much and his arms shook under the weight of all the parcels, packets and bags he was carrying. And for the first couple of hours, even though he was carrying everything, Merlin was still having fun.
Then Morgana and Gwen dragged him off to the tailor to have some clothes fitted for him. It had not only been a new, terrifying and wondrous experience, it also ended up being one of the most uncomfortable, tedious and boring things he'd ever done. He was usually quite happy to find a cheap shirt that halfway fit for the most part and though while he had to admit that the clothes that he'd been forced into hadn't been that bad, the standing still and being jabbed with pins bit wasn't the most pleasant sensation. Overall it was an experience that he was glad to have had and one that he wasn't likely to repeat any time soon. He tried valiantly to protest when Morgana paid for the clothes, baulking at the end cost, however, she ignored his every complaint, later revealing that she'd 'liberated' some of Arthur's money and suddenly, Merlin didn't mind quite so much.
The three of them had prowled the market, visiting fabric merchant's, jeweller's, glass-blowers, confectionary stands and a pokey little stall that sold cheap trinkets, old clothing, small glass vials among other odds and ends. Merlin rarely ever got to visit the market and only ever passing through it. Now he felt like a country bumpkin who'd just moved to Camelot, gawking at every little thing with awe and astonishment. At one stage he was so caught up in looking at a glass blowing display, Merlin tripped and nearly fell face-first into a mud puddle. Two hands grabbed him from either side as Gwen and Morgana righted him before he could dirty his borrowed clothes.
They didn't stay long after that. Merlin escorted the two women back to Morgana's chambers and laid down their parcel's on the dining table before making his excuses, then headed back to Gaius' study.
He came back to an angry Gaius who had expected his return directly after his bath and had been left to fret over where his young charge had got to. Merlin was forced to sit there and listen to a retelling of what had happened while he'd been asleep and he would have had trouble believing Gaius if he hadn't seen the broken crockery and twisted glass.
"Have you any idea how this could have happened?" Gaius asked gruffly once Merlin had placated him with a freshly brewed cup of tea and a promise of a shoulder rub.
Merlin set the cup before his mentor and moved behind him, resting his hands soothingly on the old man's shoulders. "It's never happened before...well, not since I was a child. It's never been that bad and I've not had it escape my control while I was asleep in so long, I can't even remember the last time." Gaius groaned appreciatively as Merlin began to work his shoulders, he'd been all knotted up with tension and anxiety when Merlin hadn't returned. He'd half-feared that the guards had come and dragged him off to the dungeons or to questioning. In truth, Merlin's presence was more of a relief than the massage.
They stayed in companionable silence for a while, Merlin busy with his hands and Gaius occupied with his thoughts. To him, it seemed that the random outbursts of magic and Merlin's stranger-than-usual behaviour were intrinsically linked. He'd never heard of it ever happening to other magic users; it certainly had never happened to him and he had gone years without using his own abilities. It was another of those little oddities that highlighted how different Merlin was.
Gaius turned to regard Merlin over his shoulder and indicated for him to sit. He waited as Merlin rounded the table and took his seat, his expression open and unconcerned. "Merlin...has it occurred to you that it's because you haven't been using your gift, that it's gotten out of hand?"
"What? No! Why would it?" Merlin responded immediately. His eyes, however, belied his self-assurances. Despite outward appearance, Merlin was a bright young man when he chose to apply himself and right now he was scared; he hid it well for the most part. "Have you considered that it might have been because of that potion you gave me?" He retorted.
"That potion was a simple sleeping draught with a dream suppressant mixed in. I have used it myself on occasion and I've given it to many of my patients, none of whom had any ill reaction," Gaius responded, his temper rising. "It's simple herbs, nothing that should trigger such a violent reaction. This is about you!"
"But what about all those other magic user's in hiding? What about you? Why don't you lose control of your magic?"
Gaius sighed wearily, "What I know of magic and my ability to use it is all learnt from books and scrolls and training; it was not something I had a natural aptitude for. It's the same for most other magic users. Some have more ability than others - a talent in foresight, telepathy, or telekinesis... Some, like the druids who are raised among nature and brought up following the old ways are more attuned to the flow of magic in the spirit world and in the natural world . However, there have only been recorded a handful of people with truly exceptional ability," Gaius paused, carefully studying Merlin's face. His brow was creased in an angry line, his mouth pursed, eyes oddly glassy and he refused to meet Gaius' gaze.
"Every living thing has a core of energy, a spiritual essence, if you will, but few have the ability to manipulate it. For most magic users, myself included, we must use spells, rituals and ceremonies to guide our will; we can amplify the amount of energy we are able to access by using rune-stones, amulets and the like to supplement our own power but even that has it's limits."
"I know this already, Gaius," Merlin interjected, impatiently. Gaius raised his brow pointedly at Merlin's interruption and waited for him to quiet before continuing. "However, you are not like every other magic user and the rules that apply to everyone else don't apply to you. For most, we all contain only a small amount of natural energy but like a muscle, the more you use it, the stronger it becomes although there is a limit to how much that energy can grow as well as a limit to how much power the body can withstand. There have been many sorcerer's who've met rather disastrous ends in the pursuit of limitless power.
"In your case, you don't have a small amount of energy. If you were to measure the difference between you and I, it would be like comparing a millpond to an ocean."
Merlin's eyes widened in disbelief and he sucked in a quick breath through his teeth. "But...what...I'm not-"
"You're powerful, Merlin. More powerful than any sorcerer I have ever met. You're on a whole other level from us and whether you like it or not, no matter how much you deny it, you are different. My hypothesis is that you soak in magic from the world around you as well as generate your own. Moreover, while you are able to control outgoing energy consciously - and also to a point, subconsciously, you have never cultivated the ability to shut out external magic and you continue to absorb it involuntarily. Even you, Merlin, have a limit to how much magic your body can tolerate. While you continue to ignore your gift, that energy continues to build. Your erratic behaviour and your inability to sleep could very well be a symptom of this. Perhaps your body is trying to expend or expel that energy in any way it can and it's doing it at the expense of your overall health.
"Right now you are containing your magic, yes?" Merlin nodded in response. "Well, imagine that you are a jug that's being filled with water. You've sealed off all the gaps to stop any leaks but you're not bottomless. What happens to a jug that you continue to fill with water?"
"...It overflows," Merlin murmured, his face white with dawning realisation. Gaius had always warned him against performing magic frivolously, but he'd never really taken into consideration how unique the boy was. He had always been aware that not all the rules applied to Merlin but had not realised to what extent that was true. Magic was a part of him, he did it as easily as breathing and until recently, with almost the same frequency. Merlin for his own reasoning was now denying his very nature and it was clear that it was killing him.
Merlin had to quit his 'no-magic' ban for his own safety and maybe life would also return to as close to normal as it ever got around Camelot. Merlin shook his head disbelievingly. "It can't be. No, it just can't. There must be some other explanation."
"What, Merlin, what else could it possibly be?"
"I don't know! but there's got to be something that I can do to fix this!"
"Use your gift, Merlin. You were given that power for a reason and to deny that would be to deny who you are!"
Merlin climbed abruptly to his feet, eyes wide and fevered, chest heaving erratically. "That's not the point!" He shouted, running his shaking hands anxiously through his hair. He began pacing the length of the room, his movements frenzied. "Haven't you ever wondered, haven't you ever questioned why Arthur is such a magnet for so many supernatural attacks?"
"He's a Prince, Merlin. The son of a merciless King whose popularity has been steadily waning. He's always been a target for enemies of the crown, both magical and mundane."
"But it's been happening so often lately! It seems almost every week there's been some sort of magical attack going on and it's getting harder and harder to protect him, Gaius!"
"There hasn't been an attack in the last week, Merlin, it-"
"Exactly! That is the point!" Merlin interrupted with a nervous laugh. "Since I've stopped using magic, there hasn't been a single attack! I'm the cause of it all, Gaius. When I use magic, I don't know, it's as if it attracts magical creatures and sorcerers! Since I've stopped using it, there hasn't been a single incident! And think about it, how did Arthur survive all those years before meeting me? He might be a great warrior but he's no match for someone with powers and like you said, he's always been a target. He should have been taken down by some magical force long before now!"
"Merlin, you don't know what it was like twenty years ago," Gaius sighed. "You have no idea what it's been like since the time when magic was banned. For the last twenty years, people have been living in fear. Any suspicion of sorcery was met with expeditious punishment, usually death. The community was torn apart and magic-users were driven from the kingdom, or killed; sometimes their entire family exterminated and there were only a few of us left after the Cleansing. Those that stayed and hid were at risk and only the foolhardy or the desperate were willing to reveal themselves and they met gruesome ends well before they could ever reach Arthur." Gaius couldn't repress the shiver that ran down his spine at the memory. Friends, close companions, children...all sentenced to death and he had been powerless to stop any of it. "Most of us have maintained a low profile, but people can't live in fear their entire lives. It could just be that after so long being oppressed, sorcerers are acting now, especially considering how the state of affairs have been headed of late."
"Then where are they now? Why has it all stopped?"
"Has it occurred to you that even sorcerer's need to prepare for winter?" Gaius responded with a raised brow. Merlin growled with frustration.
"That's what Arthur said," he groused, folding his arms against his chest.
"Well, it is the more logical explanation. Besides, if what you say is correct, then wouldn't it also follow that after your unconscious display last night, Arthur would now be in danger from attack?"
"Oh bollocks." Even before the final syllable was uttered, Merlin was racing for the door, his eyes round with panic.
"Merlin! Merlin wait!" Gaius was half out of his chair as Merlin reached the door. He was so certain that he'd run blindly through but didn't let the shock of Merlin actually pausing at the entryway from distracting him. "You once said to me that if you couldn't use magic you might as well die. This isn't about maybes; you will die if you don't use it. You're meant for greater things, Merlin. Don't ignore your gift. You might not live to regret it," Gaius warned. Merlin stared for a moment before nodding mutely, then raced through the door. It was impossible to tell what was going through his head and what made him draw such conclusions. Merlin really was a law unto himself. Gaius collapsed back into his seat and sighed. That boy would be the death of him.
The trip to Arthur's room was a gauntlet of people, carts, mud puddles, loose cobbles, hoarfrost, animals, castle guards, tables with expensive and extremely breakable vases and narrow winding staircases. Though it wasn't just the castle that had suffered injury. Merlin reached Arthur's room bruised, muddied and winded but with little thought to any physical pain, his panic making him practically blind to his surroundings. Without hesitating or slowing down, Merlin barreled into Arthur's door and lurched through it without so much as a pause. His momentum took him into the room and straight into someone who'd been standing several feet from the door and they both went down in a painful, groaning heap. Merlin recovered quickly and shot up, searching for Arthur, almost choking as his heart leapt into his throat at the sight before him.
The prince lay dazed in a slump against the wall by the window, sword just short of his reach, his shirt gaping and his feet bare. There was a weeping gash that ran from his collarbone down to his right pectoral about 5 inches long. His face was red and bruises were quickly forming round his neck in the shape of fingerprints. Before he was even aware he'd moved, Merlin crouched over Arthur, inspecting him, grateful to hear his rasping breath and see his eyes dance with confusion and slowly forming clarity.
Merlin took a glance over his shoulder at the still crumpled form of the person behind him. A young woman with wild, bedraggled hair lay unconscious, her eyelids stained with the dark bruises of sleepless nights, her skin, sallow and smudged with some unknown filth. She looked emaciated, small and frail. Merlin only spared her a moment before returning his attention to Arthur as he let out a groan of pain.
"Arthur? Sire, are you alright?"
"Merlin, I can't move my legs," Arthur announced weakly with a cough.
"Why? What happened?"
"Merlin, you're sitting on them."
"Oh." Merlin slid off Arthur's lap and helped pull him unsteadily to his feet. Arthur staggered, slid back against the wall and nearly toppled over sideways till Merlin grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the chair by the still-banked fire. "What happened?" Merlin repeated as he moved to the night stand to get a pitcher of water and a cloth to help wash off the blood so he could see how deep the wound was. One of the benefits of living with a surgeon was that he couldn't escape learning some basic medical treatments. So long as the gash wasn't too deep, Merlin could handle the situation himself. More than likely, it would need stitching and he'd have to fetch Gaius for that. He poured the contents of the jug into the hand basin and brought that back with him, placing it on the table as he took his own seat.
"I was in bed, asleep and at first I didn't notice anything but something must have woken me, she was on top of me holding a dagg-Argh! Merlin, that's hot!" Arthur yelped, catching Merlin's hand an inch from his skin. Merlin startled and looked at the steaming cloth, then back at the water in the basin, which had been ice cold when he'd poured it earlier. Merlin would have dropped the cloth if his hand hadn't already been clenched in Arthur's grasp. He took a deep, steadying breath even as he tugged on his arm, eyes staring belligerently into Arthur's crystal blue, who returned the look with a warning glare before releasing his grip.
"You just got stabbed in the chest and strangled and you're complaining about the water being a little hot? Your sense of proportion astounds me."
"Shut it, you. I'm injured, remember!" As if to prove his point, Arthur coughed, a hand to his throat. Merlin winced sympathetically and looked about for a cup he could fill, only then remembering that the only clean available water was in the basin that sat, still steaming next to him.
"Hold on," he murmured, then moved to the door, stepping over the still prone figure lying in the centre of the floor. Merlin poked his head into the hall, hoping to catch sight of a passing servant. As it happened, Gwen was rounding the corner, a pile of neatly folded linen in her arms as she headed towards him. "Gwen!" Merlin greeted her brightly.
Gwen responded with a warm smile that quickly faded into a look of puzzlement. "Merlin, your clo-"
"Can you do me a huge favour?" Merlin interrupted.
"Well yes, but-"
"Can you fetch me some water and some honey and lemon, if they have it?" Merlin asked.
"Of course, Merlin, but did you know that-"
"Thanks so much, Gwen, you're a life saver!" Merlin then quickly shut the door and turned around...and stared a moment...then opened the door again, looking for Gwen, who was still rooted to the spot. "And some rope?"
"Rope."
"Yeah, rope. Thanks Gwen, really, I owe you one."
"No problem?" She replied, uncertainly.
Merlin shut the door, turned back around and returned to his seat. Picking up the cloth again he dabbed carefully at Arthur's wound through the neck of his shirt. The bleeding had turned sluggish and his shirt was beginning to stiffen with it . "So...you woke up with her on top of you with a dagger...?" Merlin prompted.
"Right, and I threw her off, though she still managed to stab me. I don't know if it's that deep, I didn't even really feel it until now. At any rate, I grabbed my sword but she'd already backed off; I thought she was going to make a run for it. Instead she started muttering under her breath and before I knew it, I was being thrown into the wall and it was like invisible hands were choking me. That's pretty much when you came in."
"I see. Now take your shirt off," Merlin ordered. Arthur frowned but removed it with an exaggerated grunt of pain. Though the wound turned out to be mostly superficial it had bled enough that it coated Arthur from his chest to his ribs. It turned the water in the basin quickly pink, then red. It was a heavy reminder that Arthur wasn't infallible and it left a hollow feeling in Merlin's chest, a dread that he couldn't understand or explain. It made him forget about his current problems, which in a perverse way was of some relief.
"Thanks. By the way."
"Hmm?"
"For, you know, saving me."
"Oh, right. Well, that's alright," Merlin replied absently. Arthur glared at Merlin pointedly until he looked up. "What?"
"Nevermind."
Merlin pulled back, the wound now clean and glaringly obvious. It probably could have done with stitches - it was at one point quite deep but knowing Arthur, he'd just pull them open by stupidly returning to training at any rate. Gaius would definitely want to see it, most likely put a poultice on it and bandage it.
"I should have asked Gwen for bandages..." Merlin muttered. Arthur's ears perked up and he flinched under Merlin's fingers.
"...You saw Gwen?" Arthur asked in an overtly casual manner. Merlin frowned but nodded anyway.
"She's bringing up some honey and lemon. And rope."
"Rope?"
"For the girl," Merlin indicated the prone figure on the floor. "Did you want me to call the guard?"
The was a pregnant pause as Arthur mulled over the question carefully. Merlin was in two minds about it himself. On one hand, the young woman had just tried to kill Arthur. On the other...he didn't think that she deserved being burnt at the stake for it. She didn't look like the typical attacker and her physical state spoke of a desperation that may have fueled her hatred towards the crown. Underlying that was uncertainty; had he, in some passive way triggered this?
"...No," Arthur finally replied, interrupting Merlin's thoughts. "No, not this time." His gaze drifted to the window, his eyebrows drawn together in heavy contemplation. Merlin used firm, but gentle fingers to tilt Arthur's head upward, examining the bruises on his neck and hissed in appreciation. Already the skin was turning purple, almost black at the clearly defined fingertips. Merlin spared a glance over his shoulder at the woman lying prone on the floor and lost an inch of sympathy for her. She had tried to kill the Prince, after all; despite her circumstances that was the unavoidable truth and he didn't honestly know how Arthur could so easily forgive that.
He turned back to Arthur as he felt the Prince swallow, the movement exaggerated due to his recent injury. Merlin did not envy him at this moment, not one jot. Even though he was a magic user in a kingdom that abhorred the practice of magic - and it's users - hidden right under the nose of the King no less, at least Merlin had his relative anonymity to keep him marginally safe. Arthur had no such luxury. Just by being who he was - Uther's son - he'd been born with a target painted on his back and everyone knew what Arthur looked like. Even dressed as a commoner, Arthur stood out.
"How does it look?" Arthur asked after a moment. Merlin had to shake himself from his reverie, blushed at having been caught staring and brought his attention back to matters at hand.
He forced a lopsided smile on his face as he withdrew his hands. "Probably as bad as it must feel. You might want to wear a scarf for a few weeks," he remarked jokingly. With a snort he added, "I can lend you one of mine, if you like!"
Arthur responded with a raised brow that so eloquently said, 'Are you an idiot?' and fought a grin that curled the corner of his mouth. "And ruin my image? I think not. Besides, I remember having to borrow your clothes once. They itched. And they smelled funny. Not to mention that I have a modicum of taste unlike some people I might-"
Arthur suddenly cut himself off and eyed Merlin disconcertingly.
"What? What's wrong?"
"What on earth are you wearing?"
"What? Oh!" Merlin's heart jumped up into his throat and he burst into a heated blush that had his ears prickling uncomfortably and his heart quickening. So that's what Gwen had been trying to say earlier. "Oh. Um...would it help to say that it's all Morgana's fault?" Merlin asked meekly, with a nervous grin as he unconsciously took a step back from the prince, whose mouth was parted in a frozen rictus of disbelief.
His brow's slowly leveled out and he drew his lips into a straight line until his face was carefully blank. The moment stretched out almost painfully before Arthur finally met Merlin's wary gaze. "You know, I can actually believe that," he murmured with little inflection. It was in that tone that usually made Merlin want to smack Arthur in the head.
All he did was release a sigh of relief and nearly jumped out of his skin at the knock on the door. Glad for an escape from Arthur's flat stare, he quickly went to the door. Gwen stood with a somewhat bemused, curious expression. Merlin ushered her in quickly, peeked down the hall then shut and bolted the door before turning back to Gwen with a grateful smile.
She gasped unexpectedly and nearly dropped the loaded tray in her arms, managing to hold onto it by many years of practice and sheer luck. "Merlin, you're hurt!"
"What? No I'm not!"
"But the blood!"
"Oh! No, it's not mine. Arthur's injured."
"No he's not," Gwen contradicted, after a quick glance at Arthur who regarded that statement like she'd turned bat-shit crazy.
"Er, the knife wound says otherwise, Gwen," Merlin asserted. Arthur nodded his agreement.
"What knife wound?" Gwen asked, stepping further into the room to get a better look at Arthur's shirtless chest. A blush immediately stained her cheeks and she almost as quickly averted her eyes. Arthur and Merlin shared a nonplussed look and Arthur shrugged his shoulder in incomprehension. Merlin's eyes flittered to his chest and he sprang across the room, startling everyone as he ran a disbelieving hand over Arthur's chest - which was completely unharmed. No scar, no welt, no sign at all that he'd been recently injured except the blood soaked shirt lying in a crumpled heap beside Arthur's chair and the sleeves of Merlin's shirt.
Finding nothing, Merlin frantically turned his attention to Arthur's throat urgently, roughly tilting his chin up as he examined his neck for injury. Apart from the lightest of yellow discolorations, the bruises were all but gone. One of Arthur's hands caught his own, drawing his gaze to his own startled expression. They remained frozen for a moment that felt more like a millennia.
In a voice tainted with disbelief, Merlin softly announced, "there's nothing there." Dread settled heavily in the pit of his stomach and tremors began to overtake his whole body. He pulled back from Arthur, yanking his hand free. He backed up and almost stood on the woman who'd laid unconscious and unaware despite all the drama around her. He kept retreating till his back hit the bedpost and there he stopped, pale and sweating and knowing that at this moment, his future relied on Arthur's conclusions.
"...Impossible," Arthur snapped. He stood and made his way over to the mirror that hung by the fireplace, to gaze at his reflection skeptically. Gwen's brow was creased in a frown and she kept shooting nervous glances between Merlin, the girl on the floor and Arthur.
Arthur ran a hand over his chest, right where the stab wound should have been and checked the minimal bruising on his throat. Merlin's shivering was increasing tenfold, his legs almost gave out under him as Arthur turned his glare from his own reflection to Merlin's.
Abruptly, Arthur pivoted on his foot and approached Merlin with alarming speed, "It happened, it was real! You saw it, didn't you Merlin? Tell me you saw it!" Arthur demanded loudly, an edge of panic in his voice. Merlin nodded mutely and then did lose his footing, sliding to the foot of the bed, eyes round and glassy.
"Merlin!" Gwen cried, dropping her tray on the table as she rushed over. She sent a glare towards Arthur then knelt beside Merlin. "Merlin, are you alright?"
It took him a moment to register the question and he shook his head. He wasn't alright. Things were not alright. They were only going to get worse, much worse. And everything was about to go tits-up very, very soon.
Merlin could feel himself unraveling at the seams. He'd healed Arthur. He'd healed Arthur. Arthur. Son of Uther - the vindicator of magic and the man responsible for the wholesale slaughter of magic users within the realm of Camelot for over the past twenty years.
He hadn't even wanted to heal Arthur with his magic. He'd been content to use traditional methods first and would never have resorted to magic for something that had clearly not been life-threatening. He could feel his control tearing apart like and old, frayed hessian sack that had borne too much weight; too weak to hold together. He couldn't hear Gwen's continued probing, couldn't bear to witness the look of dawning realisation clouding Arthur's face and he couldn't stomach the thought that the look of utter disbelief would suddenly turn into blinding hatred. All he could do was stare at his shaking hands and even that became an incomprehensible blur as his eyes began prickling with unbidden tears. But he could See the magic begin to roil beneath his skin like light reflected in the ripples of a crystalline lake. And he could feel it, overwhelming everything, crumbling the last of his tightly held control.
In that moment Merlin hated his magic with more abhorrence and more fervor than he'd ever hated anything in his short - now probably much shorter life.
It was going to ruin everything; it was going to take him away from the home he had found, the place that he'd built for himself. All the friends he'd made, the faith, the trust, the camaraderie that he'd forged with Arthur, with Gwen, with Gaius, Lancelot and even Morgana. At that moment, horrifyingly, he sympathised with all Uther's misgivings about magic. Magic was going to kill everything that Merlin had created that had ever been good in his life.
Dimly Merlin registered the sound of a door slamming, seemingly from far away, though he didn't flinch, didn't move. He buried his face in his hands and tried with every last vestige of will he had to stop the magic from pouring out. His breath rasped in his throat, each intake faster, shallower then the last and he could feel himself rocking back and forth, knees drawn tightly to his chest, the occasional sob escaping involuntarily. And slowly he could feel the last ropes of restraint pull taut, some snapping with an almost physical force, till there was nothing but a thread to keep him from being completely swept up in the tide.
He didn't need to open his eyes to know that the dust on the floor was practically dancing its way out the window, nor that the clothes Arthur had carelessly tossed around the room were squirming, writhing until they lay neatly in a stack. He could feel in his bones the sheets on the bed sliding into place, tidy, clean and perfectly laid - more perfect than Merlin tended to do it since he normally was in a rush. Distantly he could even hear the sounds of the castle; the whispered conversations, the scrape of chain-mail on stone as a guard shifted positions at his station, the sounds of sword hitting sword from the practice field where a pair of nobles were dueling for their honour. A million different voices, from the King himself pacing agitatedly within his own chambers, to the scullery boy who was hidden in the pantry, helping himself to some stolen ale, they were all there, in his head. A cacophony of thought, of sound, of dark and light, of magic, of hatred and love. Ghosts, fairies, humans, animals, spirits - all clamouring together as one unbroken wall of sound pressing in on Merlin like a migraine, though even that couldn't overcome his own immediate thoughts, which ran along the line of, ohshitohshitohshitohshitohsh itwhatamIgoingtodo-
"-LIN!"
All sound stopped.
Merlin's head snapped up and he was trapped in Arthur's frozen, intense stare.
Not just sound - the entire world had stopped, poised on this moment... Merlin felt the press of time and knew that he had frozen it. Arthur's hands were in a painful grip around both his wrists, he was on his knees, leaning close, his nose a hand span from Merlin's. His golden brow creased in concern and teeth bared on the last syllable of his name. The moment stretched out, captivating and confusing and dreamlike. Time was slowly reasserting itself and if Merlin hadn't been panicking before, he certainly was now. Arthur's face, with excruciating slowness was morphing from an expression of great concern to abject horror and disbelief and Merlin knew why.
His eyes weren't prickling merely from tears. They were burning bright gold, reflected in the pair staring, horrified into his own.
The last thread of control snapped.
Time crashed in like a bucket of ice-cold water down his back. He reeled and Arthur thrust himself backwards, stumbling as he did so, staring at Merlin as though he had grown horns. He might as well have. The fear, the horror, the burgeoning distrust would have been enough, but Merlin couldn't bear the betrayal that he saw in Arthur's eyes and hear within his thoughts, which he could feel them all the way down to his marrow.
Merlin scrambled to his feet gracelessly, not bothering to wipe his face free of the tears, not trusting to look away from Arthur. Arthur didn't seem as vigilant, his eyes instead darting from each involuntary act of magic, from one to another and there was a lot of that going on. Candles were lighting then blowing out only to light again, the gold embroidery on the burgundy curtains were writhing like ferns caught in the wind, the lovers within the tapestry hung by the door were laughing soundlessly, the woman carding her fingers lovingly through the knight's hair as he lay with his head in her lap. In the fireplace flame danced, danced like tiny figures prancing gaily within the coals and Arthur's boots righted themselves where they'd been lying haphazardly by the table.
"Merlin," Arthur's voice had taken on a pitiful, pleading edge, asking, begging Merlin to deny that he was the source. Merlin could do nothing but let out an aggrieved sob. He couldn't handle it anymore. Not the lies, not the fear, not the accusations and he couldn't handle the way Arthur was looking at him most of all.
"I am so sorry, Arthur," Merlin whimpered. "Please, don't hate me, please, I'm, I, I-" he broke off, clapped a hand to his mouth and fled.
"Did you know?!"
Gaius looked up from his book, startled by the Prince's sudden appearance first and his words second. He raised a hand to his heart, but his pulse didn't settle. Gaius buried his initial panic; Arthur could be referring to any number of things. Though probably not. Instead he glowered at the Prince and in his best put-out tone enquired, "and to what precisely are you referring?" raising his eyebrow loftily.
"To Merlin, that's what!"
Gaius looked to the door of his rooms, thrown wide by Arthur's temper. "Close the door and lower your voice, you foolish boy!" Gaius reprimanded him caustically, voice low, eyes narrowed. Arthur's jaw dropped aghast, having never heard Gaius, or anyone other than his Father, or Merlin - for that matter - talk to him in that tone. After a long drawn out moment Arthur did as he was bid, his mouth still agape as he approached the old man with a new wariness. "And close your mouth, you look like a stunned mullet."
Arthur's jaw snapped shut with a click, still too shocked to respond.
"Are you trying to get him - and me - killed?" Gaius demanded angrily. Without waiting for a response he continued on, "do you know how many times that boy has put his neck out for you? Has saved you? Have you any concept of the risk that Merlin lives with day in and day out? No?"
At Arthur's confused expression, Gaius quieted his indignation. He hadn't meant to let his temper escape him like that. His life would have been made easier if he could feign ignorance but the righteous anger in Arthur's eyes had stopped him. Merlin had, in a way, stopped him. His past, a life in which he'd done nothing, helped no one but himself would not let him turn his back this time. He couldn't. And Arthur needed to know the truth or he would end up hating magic just as much as his Father and for Merlin's sake and for his own, he couldn't allow that to happen.
"Arthur, sit down." Gaius was distantly amused at Arthur's stunned obedience. He'd have to tell Merlin about this if- when he saw him again. Gaius took in a careful breath. "I knew," he announced with a deep sigh. The admission was going to cost him, greatly, no doubt but Gaius' conscience had never felt lighter.
Arthur drew a shaky hand through his hair, dishevelling the golden locks at that announcement. His jaw worked furiously, clenching in a concerted effort to maintain his temper. "How long?" he managed, his voice wavering and hoarse.
"The day I met him. He saved my life as he has many times since."
Arthur's eyebrows shot up questioningly. It looked as though he was about to say something, but indecision stayed his tongue and Gaius let Arthur mull over this new grain of information, anticipating a world of questions.
"...All those times, when I was sure I was done for and things suddenly turned out...It was him, wasn't it?"
"Only he could really answer that question, Arthur. I can only tell you what I know, and what I do know is that Merlin would never use magic to harm you, or anyone else if he could help it."
"But he has used magic on me, hasn't he?"
"I couldn't say."
"How do you know he doesn't have you under some sort of spell? What if he's been plotting against us all, this entire time, and is just, I don't know, waiting for the right moment?"
Gaius scoffed. "Really, Arthur. Merlin? I think you give the boy too much credit. Merlin is no evil mastermind. You know him, Arthur. Do you honestly believe him capable of such duplicity? Honestly, that boy couldn't lie if his life depended on it."
"But he has lied, Gaius!" Arthur shouted in response. He stood up gesturing wildly. "Every day he's lied to us! Right to our faces. I have no idea who the real Merlin is! No one does! For all we know, he could be plotting ways to kill us."
"Is that what you honestly believe?" Gaius snapped. "Because if that is the case, we can end this discussion now. I won't hear another word against him. Merlin is a good man, and you know him, Arthur, probably better than anyone else here, even me."
"But you knew about his magic."
"That doesn't mean he shares everything with me."
"Why would he tell you and not me?"
"Would you, if you were in his position? You are your father's son and you are duty bound to follow his laws. Can you honestly say that you would not put Merlin before your Father?"
Arthur was silent a moment, eyebrows drawn together in a cross line, though his confusion was evident. "Well, when I first met him...now..."
"Who else knows, Arthur, have you told anyone about Merlin?" Gaius demanded.
"No one. Gwen might be a bit suspicious, but she didn't see anything worth mentioning."
"And where's Merlin?"
"I don't know. I thought he'd come back here."
Gaius raised an eyebrow at that. "I haven't seen him since he ran out of here about an hour ago." he paused before adding. "He seemed to be under the impression that you might be in a bit of trouble."
Arthur's response was a strangled grunt.
"What happened, Arthur?"
"...I was being attacked by a witch."
Gaius felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. This was not a good development, not that anything recently had seemed to be going well for Merlin. Gaius just prayed that it was a matter of coincidence; he didn't want to give credence to Merlin's theory, but it was looking a little more likely now than it had a moment ago. Gaius marshalled himself and directed another question at Arthur. "And what was Merlin's part in all this?"
Arthur turned red and studiously avoided eye contact, mumbling almost to himself. "He maybekindofsavedme."
"Pardon?"
"He saved me, alright! He came barreling into the room and knocked the girl unconscious. Then when he was patching me up, he healed me, Gaius! He healed me but he freaked out and things just started happening and his eyes glowed gold. It was like he didn't know what was going on any better than I did. He ran off not long after that."
"...Doesn't much sound like the act of an evil mastermind, now does it?" Gaius replied gently.
Arthur's face flushed in shame and he mumbled an apology to him.
"What happened to the woman?" Gaius asked.
"I had Gwen take her down to the kitchens; the girl was half-starved. Gwen said she'd clean her up and get Morgana to find a place for her in one of the visiting families' entourage."
"That's very...forgiving of you, very understanding."
"You didn't see her, she barely had the energy to hold onto the knife she had with her."
Gaius studied Arthur, weighing his next words carefully. He'd probably pushed the limits of acceptable behaviour for the next two lifetimes. "I wonder, Arthur...If you can find it in your heart to forgive a stranger, surely Merlin deserves no less consideration." Gaius paused, watching Arthur's expression carefully. "Think about it."
Arthur grimaced, but nodded then quickly made his way out the door. Gaius had given him a lot to consider.