Hm. For once, I have no idea what to say...

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Chapter 14

Funnily enough, Merlin had been one of the few people who slept reasonably well. He had been too exhausted to do otherwise. But now, as he woke, the young warlock could feel the familiar thrum of his magic flowing through his body, filling him with energy. As dawn's first rays of light hit his face, he stood and looked through the bars of his cell, staring out at the Pyre. A quick burst of panic ran through him, and for a moment he considered escaping.

But then he turned and saw the large group of guards outside his cell.

It wasn't, he realised, a matter of whether or not he could escape. He knew that he was capable of getting out of here. He no longer had to hide his magic. He didn't have to hold back any more. He could probably escape quite easily.

But how many people would be hurt? How many would be punished? How many innocent people would suffer because he had not been willing to face the consequences of his actions? He had been through so much to protect the people of Camelot- did he really want to inflict more suffering on them? The answer was obvious. No.

And besides, what would he do after escaping? Where would he go? Would he spend his life like his father had, hiding in a cave, too afraid to be near anyone in case he got them hurt?

No, he would go out there and face it. This was the path he can chosen. He had always known that it could end like this, although he had obviously hoped otherwise. But maybe this was part of his destiny as well? Who knows? He was scared- he'd admit it to anyone who asked- but he would go out there and show them that he didn't regret his decision.

And so it was that, when the guards opened the door of his cell, he shrugged off their hands, and shook his head.

"It's fine. I won't run."

And with that, he himself led the way out of the dungeons and towards the square. The bells rang out as they walked, and Merlin knew that it meant that people would be gathering around the Pyre, waiting to see the sorcerer burn. Waiting to see him die. The young warlock stumbled slightly at the thought, but he kept going.

But once he reached the exit out to the courtyard, once he saw people turn their faces towards him, he couldn't stop himself from freezing on the spot. Only a prod from one of the guards managed to jolt him back to his senses. Because, unlike what he had pictured in his dreams, there were no jeering faces. No accusing glances. No hateful stares. He only saw pity, sadness, and even regret.

Gulping down the mixed emotions which suddenly rose in his chest, he continued moving. Within the space of a minute he had reached the towering wooden structure and climbed the steps to where he would meet his demise. Another few seconds, and his hands had been secured around the pole at his back.

The sound of trumpets marked the King's arrival, and he looked up at the balcony just in time to see Uther walk forward, looking around at the people in the square before he began his speech.

"This man, Merlin, has admitted to the use of sorcery. There are no circumstances for which this can be deemed acceptable. By the laws of Camelot, he has been found guilty of treason, and for this there is only one punishment. Death." Uther paused, raising his voice slightly. "The sorcerer shall be burned at the stake."

Merlin bowed his head and closed his eyes, preparing for the moment the torch-barer would step forward. But the sound of movement caught his ear, and his eyes slammed open once again.

There, slightly to his left, were Gwen and Gaius, forcing their way to the front of the crowd. The surge of panic from earlier rose in his throat once again. Because they shouldn't be here. They shouldn't have to witness this. He didn't want them to see him die. But there they were, both with tears in their eyes, both staring at him like they had failed him in some way. And they weren't the only ones. Looking around, he could see that there was barely a dry eye in the square. To the right was old Mary from the kitchens. And towards the back was Morris, one of Arthur's previous servants. There were so many people here he recognised- both from the town and from the castle itself. The entire square was packed with them. The were even several nobles. And all of them were staring at him, terrified. But not, like he had expected, terrified of him. No. They were terrified for him. None of them wanted this to happen.

And he couldn't bear it.

Unable to face all of those anguished faces, Merlin tore his gaze away from the people below him and looked towards the stairs on the other side of the courtyard, below where Uther stood.

His eyes widened.

For there, on the stairs, was a group of at least fifteen Knights. He hadn't noticed them so far, so focused had he been on everything else. But they were there, plain as day. Leon was in the front, his expression sombre. Merlin had seen that look on the elder Knight's face many times- it was a look he wore when one of his comrades died in front of him. None of the Knights were crying, but he could still sense a wave of sadness coming from them. They didn't have to be here either- Knights were under no obligation to attend an execution.

Which meant that they were here for him.

He was so fixated on them, that he barely even heard the King's voice as it echoed out once again. He didn't notice the torch-barer step forward. Not until a burst of light drew his attention downwards.

The fire moved quickly, rushing towards him at a pace he hadn't expected. The air around him grew warm against his skin, and he could hear the hiss of the flames as they began to devour the wood at his feet. A strangled cry forced his attention outwards again, and he could see Gwen crying, the young maid sobbing almost hysterically into Gaius' shoulder.

No. He thought. Gwen should never have to look like that.

But she wasn't the only one. People all around him were bursting into tears, screaming out.

It shouldn't be like this.

He had expected to be treated as an outcast. He had wanted to be seen only as a traitor. That way he could be strong. But why? Why did everyone seem so determined to make this so hard for him? He could feel tears pricking at his eyes. He tried to force them back, but it was impossible.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

They were supposed to hate him now. He was supposed to be feared. To see all this grief around him only served to break down the wall he had built up. The wall which had been protecting him from his fear. But now that fear was almost overwhelming. He could feel it battering against him, threatening to tear him apart.

His breaths started to come in shallow bursts. It was as though he couldn't breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the cries, to focus on the roaring of the flames. They were closer now, just a few seconds more and they would begin to eat their way through his threadbare boots.

But the flames weren't loud enough- the screams still pierced his eardrums at, to him, an almost deafening level.

Why is it like this?

He opening his eyes, forcing himself to look forward. Back to the Knights. They would remain calm, he was sure of it. And that calmness would stem the terror which was about to burst out of him.

And he was right- the Knights were calm. Sombre, and there was fear evident in their eyes, but none of them were crying. And that was all he asked.

He caught Sir Leon's eye. The older man gave him a small, sad smile. As if to reassure Merlin of something, he turned his focus upwards, trying to tell the young warlock that there was one more thing that he should see before he died. So Merlin followed his gaze, turning his eyes towards a familiar window.

And a familiar face.

No.

The fear was almost choking him now. Because Arthur should never have to look that broken. Arthur should never have to wear that expression. And it was all his fault.

No. This can't be happening. It shouldn't be like this. No-one was supposed to care so much. No. NO!

Suddenly, the horror of it all was too much. He had only wanted to save them- he hadn't wanted to make them suffer. And yet they were suffering anyway, and it was tearing him apart. Seeing everyone like that- seeing Gaius, Gwen, and even Arthur like that- it was too much. How was he supposed to be brave when everyone around him was falling apart?

There were tears streaming down his own cheeks now. He was scared. More scared than he had ever been before in his life. And then, it was like something snapped inside of him. It was all just too much for Merlin. It wasn't supposed to be this way. This wasn't how he had imagined this would happen. Somewhere deep inside him, a voice screamed, forcing it's way up and out of his throat. And his magic reacted to this. Just as his terror reached it's peak, just as the flames reached him, just as he saw the expression on Arthur's face, his magic reacted.

His eyes glowed a brilliant, unfading, gold. A gold brighter than they had ever shone in his life. And it was suddenly as though his magic had a life of it's own. It streamed out of his body, a swirling mass of gold, filled with subtle streaks of blues and whites. It billowed around him, forcing those terrifying flames away from his body, dampening them until it was as though they had never been there. A wisp of the cloud broke off, flying up towards Arthur's window, wrapping itself around the unsuspecting Prince's arm. And still there was more of it flowing from his body.

Startled shouts echoed around him, the King's face turning to one of fury- obviously he thought that Merlin was trying to escape.

But that wasn't it. Wasn't it at all. Merlin tried to talk to his magic, to sooth it, to force it back into his body. But it was like it wasn't listening to him any more. He could hear it whispering to him, it's voice echoing in his head in a language only he could understand. It had sensed his fear. It wasn't going to let him die.

Of course, Uther was the first one to react in any normal way.

"Kill him!"

After a moments pause, several guards rushed forwards. One of them raised their sword, preparing to swing it down towards Merlin's neck.

"No! Wait! Something's wrong!" And it was. His magic was angry. It didn't want him to get hurt. It wasn't listening to him, no matter how hard he tried. It sensed a danger to his life, and lashed out automatically, hitting the guard square in the chest.

The other guards froze in shock as their companion flew backwards, landing in an unconscious heap on the floor. Merlin was the only one who made any noise at all.

"NO!"

Eep! So? Do I deserve any reviews? (Did you really think I'd be so mean as to let Merlin die like that? That's too evil even for me.)