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*
"A half truth is a whole lie."
*
Arthur had killed men before.
He never lost count. He had killed men in battle, bandits, foreign knights who had challenged him to the death. He had killed with sword, mace, arrow, and even once with his bare hands, breaking the man's neck with a twist. He had killed sorcerers, certainly, and this sorcerer was just the same in the end.
But the look on Hunith's face when she saw him, knife bloodied and Will dead.
Will was different.
He tried to kill Merlin, thought Arthur, and he found he did not regret, if it meant that the magic was undone and Merlin was breathing again. But he hadn't been thinking straight, he hadn't been thinking at all: had let rage and grief cloud his vision and killed for vengeance. It was easy.
He could kill for Merlin. He had killed for Merlin.
Near loss brought things into perspective, like soldiers before a war; a strategist with nothing to lose.
But Hunith's frantic explanations and the fact that Merlin wasn't deadhad dulled the betrayal and anger that had first swept through him. Merlin had not woken for nearly two days, sleeping in the makeshift bed. Hunith had even tried a small handful of expensive smelling salts, but Merlin had remained unconscious. And Arthur was left alone with his thoughts and doubts. Did Merlin fear him?
In the end, perhaps it was as Will had said. Not enough. Arthur hadn't proven himself enough, all they had been through had not been enough, their friendship had not been enough and ultimately…ultimately, Merlin didn't trust him enough.
Didn't love him enough.
The earthenware jug by the door next to Arthur shattered with a crash.
Arthur jumped, startled, and only just managed to bite back a yell of alarm. There was a hot burning cut on his cheek, a thin line that he could feel welling blood. Heart hammering, he scanned his immediate surroundings…but there was nothing. Perhaps he had knocked it over? Or a gust of wind – it could have been anything.
Warily, Arthur crouched down next to where the jug had been. There were fine shards embedded in the wooden walls, but where the jug had been, there was a pile of fine dust. Pottery didn't shatter into dust when knocked over. Arthur stood up so quickly he felt disorientated. What in the world had just happened? He was just about to go back inside the house, tell Hunith, check on Merlin- when he heard their voices filtering through the thin wooden door. Arthur stepped closer to the uneven panels.
"…will you do?"
"I'll leave. I'll leave, mother-"
Arthur wrenched open the door without warning, startling Merlin into silence. Light filtered in, casting Arthur's shadow, long and dark on the floor.
"You will do no such thing," he said, voice flat.
The cold, cold anger that had been brewing within his chest at Merlin's words abated a little when Arthur caught sight of him, awake at last, the sheer relief overwhelming. And Gods, he still looked half dead: corpse pale and clutching the grey home-spun blanket to his chest. His hands were white knuckled and he stared up at Arthur, so resigned yet fearful. The expression made Arthur want to throw up.
And his wings.
Now that there was no impending death, Arthur couldn't tear his gaze away from them – huge compared to Merlin's scrawny frame, arching up and forwards like a canopy, bent half way because of the cramped space. iFeathers!/i How had Merlin kept this a secret for so long?
"Arthur?" said Merlin, voice wavering with uncertainty.
Arthur caught Hunith's gaze over the top of Merlin's tousled head.
"I need to speak with your son in private," he said, stiffly, "If I may."
Hunith stood slowly, eyes never leaving Arthur's – and the prince felt as if she were seeing through him, piercing and judging if he would be a danger to her son. It was a long moment before she inclined her head very slightly, squeezed Merlin's shoulder in reassurance, and left the room. Merlin looked as if he were about to faint.
The silence stretched on for a few long minutes, Merlin staring at Arthur, Arthur staring at Merlin's wings. When Arthur took a step forwards, Merlin flinched so hard his back hit the wall behind him.
"I can explain," said Merlin, voice rushing out in a jumble.
Arthur remained silent, and when it was a moment before Merlin realised he had to go on.
"I was born with them," he said, the wings drawn in close so that they almost hid him from view, "I've always had them, forever, but they've only really started growing when I went to Camelot, see, and now they're- they're like this. They're just a part of me, and they're usually hidden I can't, I mean, I can't even fly so it's not as if they're doing any harm-"
Arthur held up a hand, and Merlin fell silent immediately, as if his voice had been stolen.
"I don't need an explanation for that," said Arthur, and then stopped. It was a long time before he spoke again.
"Were you ever going to tell me?"
Merlin hesitated.
"Sire-"
And it was the honorific that made the sense of hurt and betrayal rushing back like a storm.
"You promised me you would never deceive me again,"said Arthur, more harshly than he intended and Merlin tensed. Arthur gestured at the wings with one hand, "How could you not have told me, Merlin? This-!"
Merlin stared back at him.
"Don't you trust me?"
"Of course I do! Arthur-"
"Then why didn't you tell me?!" demanded Arthur, voice rising, "You failed to mention that y-you have- you have- are you even human?"
Arthur regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, for Merlin looked like someone had knocked all the air from his body, jerking upright in an aborted movement, and staring at Arthur, wide eyed. Clenching and unclenching his fingers to reign in his emotions, Arthur sighed and moved the rest of the way towards Merlin, ignoring the latter's attempt to retreat. He sat cross legged in front of him on then end of the bedroll, and when Merlin relaxed enough to look up, Arthur knew the gesture of apology had been taken as such.
"I don't know," he said, and gave Arthur a small, sad smile, "Probably not."
Arthur didn't smile back.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" he asked again, watching Merlin's expression carefully.
"Yes. No. Ye- Arthur... I couldn't tell you," said Merlin, voice anguished, "but you have to understand, the King would have had me executed, he wouldn't have asked questions, the wings themselves would have been magical enough to get me killed, so I couldn't tell you Arthur, I couldn't tell you, I couldn't!"
Merlin's answer burned cold in his chest, a physical pain.
"You could have trusted me," said Arthur quietly, "you could have trusted me to protect you."
The surprise on Merlin's face hurt more than Arthur could have ever imagined.
"Arthur, I-"
"How have you kept them hidden for so long?" asked Arthur, cutting him off. Then, horrified, "Was it magic?"
Merlin's face lost what little colour it had, and his eyes darted to Arthurs then back to the floor.
"W-Will helped me," said Merlin, finally, voice breaking on his friend's name, "It was a charm to make them invisible to all who didn't know the truth."
But the mention of Will made his heart burn once more. Merlin still believed Will to be his faithful friend, but Arthur knew. Knew that at the last moment, Will had chosen his own life over Merlin's and betrayed Merlin's friendship. Like Merlin has betrayed yours, said a voice in his head, but Arthur pushed the thought away viciously. He wouldn't hurt Merlin further. He was already grieving for the loss of a childhood friend – if he knew what Will had tried to do
Arthur decided there and then that he would carry this secret – and what he had done- to his grave.
"I'm sorry, Arthur," said Merlin, and Arthur saw that silent tears were pouring down Merlin's cheeks. "I didn't want you to hate me- you would hate me, you would think me a freak if you found out, I thought-" Merlin pushed a fist to his mouth to silence himself, chest shuddering. The sight made Arthur's stomach clench.
I could never hate you. But Arthur could not bring himself to say the words; instead, he reached forwards and tugging Merlin into his arms.
Merlin was stiff within his embrace for a moment before the tense line in his shoulders gave out and he collapsed, burying his face into the crook of Arthur's shoulder, enveloping them both with feathers. Arthur could feel the warmth of them around him, the slight scent of sky and leaves and Merlin.
He didn't know what to think.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he chanted, over and over, voice strained with exhaustion, trailing off, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"
They stayed like that for- Arthur didn't know how long- an eternity, a cycle of the seasons, arms wrapped tight around each other, neither letting go.
Merlin's heartbeat slowed eventually, and Arthur could feel it against his own through his tunic, beating slightly out of sync. He listened to Merlin's breathing even out, watched the sun filter in through the cracks in the window, drawing the lines that Arthur had now crossed.. They were golden on the dirt floor, Merlin asleep in his arms.
*
"That's pretty cool," said Will, as he bent down to examine the little sapling between Merlin's cupped hands, small spidery roots in soft brown earth.
Merlin beamed, feeling a little light headed from the magic and the new life in his hands, green and young and shining where a plain acorn had been moments before.
"Feel tired, though," he said, walking backwards until he found a log to sit on. Will poked at one of the leaves, and Merlin drew the sapling away with a glare.
"Be careful," he said, annoyed, "You'll crush it."
"No, I won't," said Will, who was barely ten years old but had the destructive ability of a fully grown mountain bear. Not that Merlin had ever seen any bears, but he had heard stories, and the habits of a bear sounded pretty like Will, what with the sleeping, eating, growling, and trampling things.
"I'm going to plant it," said Merlin, decisively, standing up again and walking a little way towards the riverbank, "And it'll grow into a huge oak! It'll be ours."
"Oaks take hundreds of years to grow, Merlin," Will complained, "Can't you just use your magic and make it grow faster?"
"I don't think I could do that yet," said Merlin, dubiously, "feel like...it doesn't want to be a tree yet."
"Well, I'll be dead before I see it then," said Will, kicking at a stone amongst the pebbles in the sand.
"Don't be silly," said Merlin.
*
When Arthur woke, Merlin was gone.
He panicked for a moment when his hand met the cold indent where a warm body should have been, and he sat up in a rush, looking wildly about the room. It was empty. He rushed out of the house.
As soon as Hunith saw him, hair all sticking up on one side and pressed down on the other, she pointed in the direction of the woods and said,
"Merlin's down by the river."
Arthur mumbled a quick thanks before walking quickly towards the edge of the trees- then gave up and started to half run, taking the well worn dirt path that wound its way slowly through the woods. He followed a little brook that gurgled its way by his feet, and he stopped briefly to splash some fresh water on his face. It was freezing cold with the coming winter. The prince walked on.
Moments later he found Merlin on the bank of the river, slumped against a towering oak tree. He was curled around the base of it, limbs splayed oddly, and Arthur took the last few steps at a run.
"Merlin? Merlin."
Merlin's face was slack with unconsciousness and Arthur shook him by the shoulders. A shiver ran up Arthur's arm where his thumb brushed the bared skin above Merlin's collarbone, but Arthur didn't notice. He slapped Merlin lightly on the cheek.
"Hey. Come on. Merlin!"
"Wha- Arthur?" Merlin blinked awake, looking lost, "Where- oh."
"Did you fall asleep again?" asked Arthur, his tone soft. "Idiot," he added quickly.
Merlin wiped his hands on his britches, and Arthur noticed that both palms were dark with dirt and smudged with bark, a few scrapes around the pads of the fingers. Despite the sleep, Merlin still looked exhausted and peaky, eyes red rimmed from crying.
"The oak is grown now, see?" slurred Merlin, slumping back again. Arthur had to loop one arm around his waist to stop him falling back into the dirt,
"You're making no sense, Merlin," said Arthur, trying to pull them both upright, "I think we should take you back to the house…"
"Du'wan to," said Merlin coherently, nudging Arthur's leg with the ridge of one wing, the long flying feathers dragging in the sand, "Will."
Arthur was afraid for a moment that Merlin had been driven mad with grief, and he took him firmly by the shoulders, forcing the latter to look up.
"Merlin."
Something passed between them like a shadow. Merlin seemed to come to his senses, eyes focusing on Arthur's after a long moment, and he pulled back away.
"Sorry," he said.
"What are you doing out here?" asked Arthur.
Merlin rubbed his eye with his fist, sniffling, and the action was at once endearing and a little sad.
"Fresh air," replied Merlin, lamely.
Arthur settled down more comfortably beside his manservant on the sandy bank.
"Well, next time you decide to wander off, do wake me up and tell me."
"Why?" asked Merlin, and it was such a Merlin thing to do, to question everything that came out of Arthur's mouth, Arthur smiled slightly despite himself.
"Who else is going to notice if you trip and drown in a river?"
Merlin didn't reply, staring out over the water's surface at the opposite bank. The tree-line there drew close, until the trees blended together into dark green shadows and the smell of moss and ferns. Sunlight made the river look silver and Merlin's wings near transparent. If Arthur looked closely, he could see white shaft of each feather, and he fought the urge to reach out and itouch./i
He noticed that Merlin was watching him anxiously, eyes darting to his face whenever he thought Arthur wasn't looking, shoulders still tense.
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"You're not…angry with me?" asked Merlin finally, tentative.
"Yes, I am," said Arthur, voice lacking any heat.
"Oh."
Silence stretched on.
"I wish you hadn't lied to me," said Arthur, and it felt like the most honest admission he had given in…a long, long time. It was ironic, Arthur thought, that only in Merlin's presence did he ever feel as if he could drop the façade that was Crown Prince and be Arthur Pendragon. But Merlin had been lying to Arthur for over a year.
Merlin's eyes were very blue.
"I didn't know how you'd react," said Merlin, in a way that Arthur knew he was thinking each word carefully before saying them out loud, testing Arthur's temper.
"What did you think I would do?" said Arthur, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.
Merlin looked at him, expression wary.
"You're taking this very well," he said, defensively, "I thought there would be a lot more screaming and shouting involved, when you found out. Possibly executions too."
Arthur let out a bark of laughter.
"Oh trust me; I had plenty of time to do that while you were unconscious for two whole days. I thought to myself, why would my manservant, whose life I have saved on countless occasions-"
"I've saved iyours/i too-"
"- keep something this important from me? That he failed to mention that he had bloody wings for heaven's sake! Is this what Edwin wanted you for?"
"It was part of the reason, I think," said Merlin, "That and…Arthur. It's just- I. I'm-"
The memory of Merlin, limp and bloodied on an altar, superimposed itself with the vivid image of Merlin, lying dead on the ground and Arthur could feel the now familiar pain in his chest that he associated with heartache. Merlin, missing, Merlin collapsing in Lancelot's arms-
Arthur's heart seized in realisation.
"Did Lancelot know?"
Merlin's mouth opened and closed, wordless. Finally, he said, stumbling over the words:
"…W-What?"
His hesitation told Arthur all he needed to know.
"He knew," said Arthur, quietly, voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
Something cold and vicious twisted in his gut.
And it must have shown on his face because Merlin looked horrified and made a movement towards him. It was Arthur's turn to jerk back and away, rising fluidly to his feet, suddenly robbed of breath. He stared at a point just above Merlin's left shoulder. It was easier to be this way. In anger he could hope to control himself, stop himself from lashing out, curling his fingers around that filthy lying throat, bury the sheer hurt, that had risen anew at this revelation.
Lancelot had known –
"You told- you trust him?" asked Arthur, barely able to speak. The and not me? was obvious.
"No- no, Arthur," Merlin babbled, voice strained, eyes imploring, panicked. Arthur looked away. "I didn't tell him, he just sort of guessed, I swear-"
"Or you would have lied to him as well, I assume," spat Arthur, letting the anger drown him like a forgiving wave, "Like you've lied to me."
"No-"
"Yes! That's exactly what you've done. You've done nothing but lie to me ever since we met!"
"That's not true-"
Arthur laughed again. The sound hurt his throat.
"I think it's only truth."
"The griffin attacked me, Lance found out when he rescued me-"
"You're so blind with deceit that you can't see what's right in front of you."
"-It's not like I wanted to tell him, Arthur, listen-"
"It's Sire," Arthur bit out harshly, and Merlin fell silent instantly.
Then, because he couldn't stand it:
"Get out of my sight."
Merlin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, both hands curled into fists in his hair, and Arthur could tell he was trying not to cry by the thin line of his lips, pressed tight together. He did not move, and at that moment, all Arthur felt was the bite of bitter jealousy and a heart misplaced.
"I said get out of my sight!," shouted Arthur, violent, "Are you deaf as well as dumb?"
The words ringed in the silence of the woods.
He saw Merlin move out of the corner of his vision, and for a heartstopping moment … but then Merlin's shadow, wide with the elongated slant that the wings' created on the dark sand, drew back from the water, from Arthur, slowly, slowly, until it disappeared from view.
And only when he could't hear Merlin's footsteps anymore, did Arthur let himself go, swinging a punch, then another into the trunk of the nearest tree until his knuckles were bloody and numb and he couldn't feel anything else.
Around him, the forest breathed, the river flowed and the oak whispered on the wind.
*
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Author's Note: This part was beta'd by the lovely musicsage92. Who helped me tweek grammar and we had an wonderful chat about Arthur's utter jerk-face in this chapter. Feel free to crit! :)