When Merlin was a child, his mother had told him to keep his magic a secret.
It's a gift Merlin, she had said with a spark of fear in her eyes. One that makes you very special. But not everybody will see it like that. Promise me, you will not tell a soul.
He'd broken that promise, of course, trusting that his bond with Will was strong enough to keep him safe as he shared his exciting ability with his best friend. And though he'd suffered his mother's anger, it had felt good to tell someone, to speak it aloud. To acknowledge that this secret thing was a part of him.
He understood his mother's ire at what he had done. Her terror. A secret like that told to the wrong people could have ended very differently, the fear of the unknown easily clouding the judgement of those that knew him. But he had survived, living out the rest of his time in Ealdor keeping that special part of him locked away for only Will and his mother to see.
Until he couldn't take it anymore.
That quaint little village had been his home for so long, but it had been obvious for years that his place wasn't alongside the grumbling farmers that still viewed him as a wayward child. So, he'd left in search of somewhere he might be accepted. Somewhere he could be himself.
He should have known it would not be that easy.
Camelot may have welcomed him – after a brief period of difficulty – but it had not welcomed all of him. His first few moments in the city had seen to that. With a monarch that would execute his kind without second thought, he was back to a life of embracing his true self only in the shadows.
Not that that minor inconvenience was going to stop him. His magic had been helping Arthur since the day he met him and until a chance meeting with the stranger Morgause, he had truly believed there would never come a day when he could reveal his secret. Not until Arthur had uttered the words he had been longing to hear.
What if my father's attitude to magic is wrong? Perhaps it's not as simple as he would have us believe. Surely not everyone who practices magic can be evil?
Merlin's heart had near stopped upon hearing it. A sudden warmth flooding him, filling his very being with an unexpected hope at what the future could look like. One where magic was favoured, not feared. Where he would no longer need to live with the dread of his gift being discovered. Where Arthur would thank him for his help instead of calling him a coward.
That hope didn't last long.
I am indebted to you, Merlin, Arthur had said as he stared forlornly out of the window and that alone had piqued Merlin's interests. Had he heard correctly? Was that really a compliment coming from the prince's mouth? It had been a long and emotional day for Arthur, he supposed, and he could hardly have been blamed for a rare show of gratitude.
I had become…confused. Again, very big of him to admit.
It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous. And that is thanks to you.
Oh.
Well that—
That is exactly what he should have expected, to be honest. So there was really no excuse for the sudden wave of nausea that washed over him.
Glad I could help, he'd forced out, the words leaving a foul taste in his mouth.
He hadn't stuck around for long after that, his lungs itching to be somewhere less suffocating. Although, the morning air on the way back to his room didn't alleviate him as much as he had hoped, Arthur's words continuing to play through his mind.
And that is thanks to you.
It felt like a betrayal to his kind. A betrayal to himself. His speech to Arthur in the council chambers had solidified in the prince's mind the one belief Merlin had never wanted him to have.
And that is thanks to you.
His words had saved the King's life—the very leader of Camelot who would not think twice about sentencing him to death if he knew the truth. They had saved Arthur's life—for he knew that revenge would not taste so sweet on the other side of killing his father. They had been what Arthur needed to hear in that moment no matter how much it hurt him to say.
He just hadn't imagined the sting of his words would continue so greatly.
And on hearing the sincerity of Arthur's gratitude, a small part of him was ashamed to question whether Uther's life had been worth it.
To twist the knife in further, the King of all people had taken it upon himself to visit their humble abode to offer his own thanks. To stand in front of a lowly servant and praise him for his actions as if it was normal for him to pop over to their chambers for a chat.
You have proven yourself a trusted ally in the fight against magic.
And that should have felt amazing. The recognition he was being granted, the appreciation he was receiving after having his actions overlooked for so long.
But for Merlin, it felt like the final straw.
He maintained a calm face as he watched Uther leave, but the second the door was firmly shut, he couldn't hold it back any longer. His breath caught in his throat as the corners of his eyes started to burn with tears. His hands pressed tight against his stomach as he gritted his teeth, the words he received somehow manifesting into physical pain that his body couldn't quite understand.
He glanced around the empty room filled only with tinctures and tonics and not the man who made them, then back at the door which could open again at any moment to offer more acknowledgements he didn't want to hear, and he knew he couldn't stay there.
He may have knocked to the floor a stool or a scroll, but he barely noticed in his haste to get to his room. He wasn't sure why it would feel safer in there, but he knew he wouldn't be able to find a release for the building pressure in his chest until he was locked away inside.
Maybe he wanted the sanctuary it could offer. Maybe he just wanted to hide.
Resting his head against the lightened wood, hand hovering over the key that had as of yet remained unused, he let the tears fall down his cheeks. His mind was racing and he wished for a way to silence it all, just for a moment. Just long enough for his heart to settle and his lungs to take a full breath.
He could feel it brewing, a storm building behind his ribs, sticky and uncomfortable as it clung to his bones, until it could no longer be contained. The door rattled as his fist connected with the wood and the low, drawn-out cry he released echoed through the empty room. And for a second, as he breathed heavily against the door, it felt good. Like a stopper popping off a vial letting the wisps of anger float away.
An unwelcome shakiness worked through his body until he no longer trusted his legs to hold his weight and he dropped down gracelessly beside his bed, the frame digging into his spine as he pressed against it. He let his fingers run along the grooves of the floor, unafraid of splinters as he took solace in the coolness against his palms.
His eyes squeezed shut as tight as they would close, but his eyelids did little to block out the images of an inevitable future. A world where magic was never trusted, where his people continued to be persecuted, where he could never reveal to Arthur the most important part of himself.
The Great Dragon spoke of a united Albion, a golden age where the old ways would reunite with the new. A future where those with and without magic were unified as one. And well, maybe he shouldn't get a say anymore.
He wasn't the one by Arthur's side day after day, watching the prince encounter more and more violence and betrayal that could lead to his destiny remaining unfulfilled. He wasn't the one who had to stand there and listen to Uther as he spilled his vitriol against all those that practiced magic.
No matter how foretold this wishful future of Albion was, it couldn't hold back the ache clawing at his insides. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, shoulders shaking and lips pursed as he tried to keep his cries silent even in his isolation, but soon the rattle of the doorknob interrupted his solitude.
He couldn't bring himself to look at Gaius as the man entered slowly, feet shuffling against the floor as he moved to sit on the bed on the other side of his ward.
"I bumped into the King on my way here. He told me he came to find you." His knees knocked against Merlin's shoulder as he dropped down onto the mattress, and as accidental as the action was, Merlin found himself finding comfort in the contact. "You did very well, Merlin."
More gratitude thrown his way. But this time, it felt different— warm and wanted. It just wasn't enough to thaw the iciness completely.
"I helped prove to Arthur," he shook his head slowly, grimacing as he spoke, "…exactly what Uther has always said about magic."
Gaius' firm grip came to rest on his shoulder sending Merlin's breath shaky on the inhale.
"This was probably my one chance to—" He cut himself off as he wiped clumsily at his cheeks. "He's never going to view it differently. Not now."
"Merlin." Gaius interrupted, words slow and understanding as if trying to get through to a small child. "Changing Arthur's mind wasn't going to happen overnight. The future is a long way off and a lot can happen before then. You'll have another chance."
Gaius was right, of course. He was always going to face setbacks when it came to trying to change a belief that had been ingrained into the people of Camelot for nearly two decades now.
"I don't know why it hurts so much."
His fingertips scrapped along his sternum, trying to push away the ache that seemed insistent on burrowing deeper. Maybe if he clawed away hard enough, he could push through his ribcage and pluck his heart straight from his chest. Just for a little while. Just to give it a rest.
"Stand up." Gaius ordered gently as he got to his feet and the confusion at his words was enough for Merlin's fingers to fall still.
"What? Why?"
"Because if I attempt to join you on the floor, we both know that will not end well."
Merlin's chuckle was tear-filled and blubbery but it was enough to dislodge the cold in his chest that was keeping the warmth at bay.
Using the bed frame for support, he pushed himself off the floor and he was barely upright before Gaius was pulling him into a hug.
"I know the past few days haven't been easy for you. But I'm proud of you."
The words were muffled by his shirt but the love that came from them hit Merlin full force, like a punch to the chest — a good one this time. More than that, they came from someone who understood. Someone that knew about his magic and loved him for it regardless.
No— not regardless.
His magic wasn't some outside part of him that he was destined to be loved despite having. His magic was the most important part of him and of course Gaius would be the one to remind him of that.
He pulled Gaius closer, feeling safe wrapped in his arms like a young boy in his father's embrace, and let the last of the tears fall away.
Uther had called him a trusted ally and he was. To his people, to his kind, to all those that the King may one day target. He wasn't going to stop fighting to make Camelot a safer place, no matter how long it took and if it meant taking that burden — feeling that ache — every now and then, then so be it.