A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC
Woo, we're getting pretty close to the finish line now - one more chapter and the epilogue left (hopefully they'll be uploaded together as the epilogue is as short as the prologue.)
Thanks to all my new followers and people who've favourited this.
Chapter 7
Since his birth, Arthur had been taught to hide his emotions. His father had intrinsically instilled into him that a true king never shows weakness. To Uther, emotion equalled weakness, something Arthur highly disagreed with. However his father's voice constantly hounded his thoughts, whatever he did. It was always there; putting him down, judging him. This is not how I taught you. You should be better. Everything he had done would be considered wrong in his father's eyes, from his marriage to Gwen, a serving girl with nothing to offer Arthur but her heart, to his appointment of common born knights with the bravery and loyalty of a thousand nobles. Arthur had tried so desperately not to be his father, despite spending over twenty years of his life doing everything he could in an effort to please him.
'How could you? After everything we've been through, how could you?' The elder brother's voice quivers with emotion, tears barely held back.
'It is because of everything we've been through. Everything was for you. Always.' The younger brother's voice holds strong, despite the sobs caught in his throat.
Those were the last words he spoke to his manservant, his idiot, his best friend, his brother. There was something about the big eared serving boy, Arthur had noticed it the moment they met. Perhaps it was how he spoke to the prince, in a manner that no else dare. Or perhaps it was because he had saved Arthur's life, pushing him out of the path of a dagger hurtled at his head, despite barely knowing the prince. Arthur had never had a friend like his servant; so witty, so loyal, so incredibly insufferable he made the King want to scream in frustration. He was always there, no matter what happened, his idiot would always be there, unscathed (for the most part) and grinning. And now he knew why. Had all of it been a lie? Had every wisecracked joke, every playful push, every meaningful conversation meant nothing to the sorcerer? Arthur had had no choice; the boy was a sorcerer and he had magic. Magic was evil. It always had been and always would be. Right? God he had so much guilt it hurt. His heart felt as if it had been shredded into tiny pieces; a sword to his stomach would have been less painful. Why did he feel this for a sorcerer? Was it only because the betrayal had hurt him so deeply? Or maybe because he knew his friend, knew he would never hurt him, ever. No. He couldn't think like that. Had the sorcerer twisted his mind so that he was beginning to doubt himself in such a manner? He repeated his father's teachings over and over in his head, to do nothing if quell his guilty conscious whilst his brother languished in the cage specially built for those like him so many flights below (God how the man had looked so broken). He did the same as dawn broke, as he forced himself to adjust to a new manservant-less life. He wouldn't take on another servant, couldn't. Arthur would never be able to erase that day. He should never have had to send the one person he believed would be there until the end to the pyre. Never.
Since his birth, Arthur had been taught to hide his emotions, but right now he was struggling to stay calm, his kingly disposition ebbing away as the guilt was etched onto his strong features and his stomach threatened to repel its contents every few moments as his other half drew his final haggard breath.