A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

97. Chapter 97

This chapter is dedicated to BunBunDevonaZen who wanted Gaius to heavily imply how disappointed he'd been in Uther going back on his deal with Merlin, and trying to have him executed ;p

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"…Really? I don't have to worry my pretty little head about a thing, you say?" Merlin's voice came out with an air of surprising calmness to it. One might be bold and call it: the call before the storm. Because one did not want to make a mistake. There was a storm about to rein down across Arthur's head, whether he would want it or not. Merlin's teeth ached with a harsh need to show Arthur that he was not someone that would be trifled with. And Arthur's dismissing attitude was fueling the pounding of red hot blood swirling around in his veins. But Merlin did not dare allow his anger to come out, not yet. Not when he knew it was taking all he had to keep his magic from coming out of him like a punch. "You threatening to hit me, to abuse me just because I do not think like you. Or do things the way you want them to be done…it meant nothing to you?"

Arthur had said Merlin had a 'pretty little head' as if it was some kind of compliment. And to most people in the world, maybe they would have seen it as nothing but the prince showing them with attention. And they would probably be gushing to all of their friends over how lucky they were to have caught the attention of the renown prince. Merlin felt anything but lucky, and that was why the cage he had been careful to fashion around himself, kept his emotions in check. But then again, the consort was waiting for it. Watching Arthur for any hint of movement that would see the blond as he tried to make good on his threat. Merlin wanted to have Arthur give him a reason-just one reason, right here and right now-for Merlin to deck him directly in his smug face. Preferably with the box still clutched in his hands, knowing the sharp edges would hurt the prince far more than his fists could have.

"What are you blabbering about?" Arthur didn't seem to care about the danger he was walking himself into, or maybe he just did not see Merlin as the threat that he was. Merlin wanted to change that, wanted Arthur to see the darkness in his soul that hadn't been there o before Arthur had gotten underneath his skin. That might have been a sign for Merlin to go, to leave this awful hallway before he did something as regrettable as revealing all the cards in his hands. But Merlin did not see his mother struggling to keep him safe, never breaking once in the eighteen years he'd been living under her roof, just to blow it all on somebody who's as pathetic as Arthur Pendragon. People who had to make threats, and hurt others…they were worse then the slimiest of slugs in Merlin's book. Arthur…he was worse than a slug. "It was nothing but words. Meant for you to calm yourself down before you were made out as a fool in front of the council. But clearly, I may have miscalculated, considering the events that had followed it."

Arthur did not see why Merlin was making such a big deal out of something as petty as this. So what, if the prince had told Merlin he'd strike him down? It wasn't as if he had actually done it, no matter how close the prince had came to punishing him on several of their encounters since then. He hadn't gone through with any of it, though not for lack of trying for sure. Merlin would have a lot more hang ups, Arthur knew, if only he realized just how harshly Arthur wanted to 'strike him'. Compared to how often Arthur wanted to whip Merlin, petty little words he'd only spoken in the heat of the moment didn't seem like a big deal to him.

"Really, those words were meant to calm me down?" Merlin repeated, a tinge of bitterness leaking through the carefully contained cage around his soul that was starting to flicker in and out of existence. Merlin truly feared for the day it came down completely, knowing there was a good chance Merlin would finally give in, and allow his primal urges to guide his actions. When that day came, Arthur better pray Merlin didn't have anything sharp nearby. A blade, a pair of scissors, or even a needle only sharp enough to gorge the eyes out of the blond's head. Because Merlin would want to be up close and personal-touching Arthur would be his choice, rather than the choice Arthur forced on him-and watch the shock in Arthur's eyes as the blood started to gush. Staining Merlin's innocent and pure hands red. Like he was sure Arthur's had been a thousand times over. "Do I look as if I'm bloody calm to you!"

Merlin hadn't known what he'd been hoping when he had finally brought up what Arthur had said to him. It may have been foolish of him to wish for any apology, maybe he just wanted to see if it was possible for the prince to show remorse for what he had done. But as always, Merlin was stupid for not seeing things as he knew them to be. He felt even more stupid as he felt the stinging of tears trying to brim from his eyes, but no. Merlin blinked rapidly, knowing his eyes probably looked red-rimmed in his effort not to shed them. He would not allow Arthur to see him cry. Even if Merlin felt almost manic just by being in the presence of the prince. Arthur already thought him as a fool. He was not going to help cement that impression by falling to a blubber right in front of him. Since Merlin knew that he could not allow the primal beast brewing inside of him out to play-for fear his own magic would join the party as his anger became too much-his body had to let his emotions out a different way. And of course, it had to be tears. Waterworks that would only show his 'husband', just how right he was to not even allow for a friendship to form between them.

God, could Merlin really be more pathetic than he felt now.

"…I'm gonna go with no." Arthur said, giving a squinty eye toward his consort while trying to discern exactly what this was. He had-quite foolishly-agreed to give Merlin three things of his choosing, so he would just keep the box. But there were times like this, where he had to wonder what he had been thinking. These was now simple things like jewels, or a manor somewhere in the country, or even something small like having a Royal horse of his own. The first gift Merlin wanted to have from him had been Gregory's dismissal from his duties as Merlin's protector. Arthur wasn't happy with it, but he had been willing to relent. Simply because it was doing no good anyway, with Merlin being able to slip out and come and go as he pleased. But then the consort had asked for his second favor, but…the man found that he could not make heads or tails of what it was Merlin was asking of him. Arthur waved a hand in a dismissing manner, looking almost as if he was just trying to bat away smoke. Invisible smoke lingering in the air, hot and heavy. "If you are going to go and get your panties in a wad over some meaningless words, then maybe it's best if you just keep to your room, so you can stay out of the way. I don't have any time to sugarcoat things for you."

Arthur felt very strongly about what he was saying to his consort. He already had to watch his words more than he wanted to. He had to be on his best behavior whenever they had royal guests visiting, had to take care when speaking to their sons and daughters. Had to give speeches, when he knew he was horrible with his words when he had to sit down and actually think about what he was going to say. Arthur would get too far in his head, and usually ended up rewriting most of it so his father would find it acceptable. He had to speak up in front of the council, and make sure there was nothing he said that could offend somebody and have them take back their support from the king and the kingdom. The power of the throne would only be as good as the people the king surrounded himself with, as his father would say. Well, Arthur had been saddled with Merlin. And that should be enough said on how weak the throne would be when Arthur finally ascended to it, if Merlin kept behaving as if he was a girl's petticoat.

"IT'S NOT JUST WORDS!" Merlin screamed as loud as he could, making even the cold hearted man jump in surprise from the sheer volume of it. But Merlin did not care, he couldn't even stand to look at the prince. His eyes were squeezed so tightly he could see black dots forming in the corners of his vision. If Merlin had put a bit of magic behind it, his shaking hands could have cracked the box in two, allowing for everything Arthur thought he could replace-his little pieces that stood for Ealdor, but had been cut out before being remade in Camelot's image-to scatter themselves at their feet. Like the trash that they were. Like the man thought Merlin was. Merlin ducked his head, taking a long and slow breath, trying to keep all of his anger in check for once in his life. "What you said…the things you like doing to me…it's abuse. Plain and simple, no matter how much you try to pretty it up. Or act as if it is normal. Or like I'm a bitch for not just going along with it…"

Merlin's words died out in a shaky exhale. Because it was finally out there in the open, he'd said something about Arthur's abusive nature. And he had said that it was not okay. It was not okay for Arthur to jump onto him whenever he pleased, to put him in awkward and weird positions he didn't like. It was not okay for the prince to use his superior weight-the fat arse-to pin him down so tightly, Merlin had no chance of bucking him off. Not without his magic to aide him, at least. It was not okay for Arthur to continue getting directly in his face, being his weird self as he taunted the young consort over and over again. Making Merlin feel more weak than he had in his entire life, small and unsafe within the bonds of Arthur's muscled arms. It wasn't okay for Arthur to pin him down on his front like he'd done in his room, where Merlin couldn't keep an eye on him, leaving him helpless and vulnerable. It wasn't okay for Arthur to treat this as if it was any other day in the world, as if Merlin's world wasn't falling apart all over again. And it was definitely' not okay to have Arthur threatening to put hands on him. He would go ahead and kill himself, long before he allowed any of this abusive behavior to continue.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Arthur interrupted as quick as he could, feeling as if he had just been doused under a bucket of icy cold water the second the very word 'abuse' had been uttered by Merlin's pink lips. If the prince had any lingering thoughts on still trying what he could to lure Merlin back to his room for a proper first whipping, it was drowned out completely. Being washed away with his sheer stare of shock, bringing his hands up and waving them in front of his face as if it would erase what Merlin had just said. "I am not abusing you! This, that…it's completely ridiculous! I swear Merlin, if you are going around and telling any person out there that I am 'abusing' you, there will be hell to pay!"

Arthur had not landed a single hand on Merlin since the day they met…okay, maybe that wasn't all entirely true, the prince grudgingly thought to himself. And all of the memories flooded through his mind: from that very first punch Merlin had tried to give him the day they met in the courtyard. Arthur had put hands onto him several times-more times than he could count or even remember them all, if felt like-but Arthur would not have said it had landed in the abuse territory. The word itself gave him an unsettled chill, surely the boy did not see their interactions as something that was so vile. Sure, Arthur had gotten rough a few times, he could admit. But it was only when Merlin had needed a more heavy handed approach. He had tried to give the boy a simple spanking-something Arthur figured was small enough, until they worked their way up into using tools like a whip, to enforce how Merlin should behave-a few times, that was true. But Merlin did not even know that was what Arthur was trying to do, so it did not count. And had Arthur not been protecting him…he'd ran his fingers along the boy's arm just to check for bruising during the council meeting, when he'd seen the way the guards had been holding him down. Somebody abusive did not go checking onto their consort's bodies to make sure their skin wasn't marred by the undesirable's. Every time Arthur tried to punish Merlin, it had simply been that. Nothing but a punishment. If Merlin was a better consort, a better husband, a better…not a man at all, then maybe there would have never been a reason for the royal to have done even that much.

"Oh, and why is that?" Merlin demanded, and he was positively seething. Not even the usual coldness that accompanied his face when they got into these kinds of arguments was able to stay, melted away by all the pure fire seeping out of the consort. His face looked flushed with his rage, eyes like twin peeks that Arthur was standing precariously on top of, about to fall off and over the edge. Into the abyss of flames waiting to take him at the bottom. Usually, Arthur was the fire wanting to burn away at Merlin's rebellion, to destroy all the resistance the consort kept between them. It seemed though, that the opposite had occurred. And Arthur could only watch, helpless to stop it, as Merlin resembled a volcano about to erupt. "Do you think all of your precious people would turn on you if they had known what you were really like? If they knew all of it, how your mean nature extends even to someone you profess to care for? That's the image you're going for isn't it? A loving husband? Do you think the people in the lower town would call for your head, if they knew it was nothing but lies?"

Merlin knew this was nothing but shit. The people in the town wouldn't do crap if they knew, there wasn't anything they could do. Not to Arthur. No, they were probably going to direct whatever feelings they had on the subject at Merlin himself, should word of their contract get out. They already pushed him around at their convenience. Maids whispering with these cruel smirks hidden behind hands as they gossiped about him freely. Knights shoving him into walls even when he wasn't in their way to begin with, crowing among themselves as if it was the funniest thing ever. While leaving Merlin to pick himself up, and dust himself off as if nothing had happened. And that was only since they thought Merlin was incompetent as a consort in their eyes. If they learned Arthur had never wanted to wed him in the first place…Merlin found himself to be tempted with spreading the word. Maybe one of the more zealous people would finally put Merlin, and all of them, out of their misery. Hadn't somebody once warned Merlin about possible assassination attempts on him, now that he was married to Camelot's future king? Where were they at! But…it was a good way for Merlin to get under Arthur's skin. It was probably the only way Merlin could. To dangle the contract and it's existence in front of Arthur, like one would a carrot in front of a horse to get it to move.

The only reason Merlin hadn't tested his theory, and tried to find out for himself how far some people may be willing to go, was because he had just this hint of self-preservation still buried inside of him. Though, it was starting to get smaller and smaller. Even now, he could barely feel it pulsing behind the pain the other man's presence alone forced him into enduring. After all, there was only so much a man could take before he fell somewhere nobody could reach out and catch him.

"…They wouldn't do anything." Arthur said slowly, and his eyes were sharp with narrowed interest, refusing to leave Merlin's form for even a second. But Merlin wished he would blink, or glance away, or something that didn't involve looking at him. Merlin was starting to feel the same violation he did whenever Arthur had came close to touching him. It almost felt as if Arthur was trying to peel back his skin, and look underneath it for himself-like one would an onion-and shuffle his nasty fingers through Merlin's insides. But…the small consort could not help but think, Arthur clearly had a bit more faith about his people than Merlin did. Why wouldn't he thought? Arthur was the one that pushed them around, no consequences for it, and not being held punishable for hurting people. The people were not doing it to him. Not like they did to Merlin. "You and I both know that you won't breath a word of our arrangement to anybody who does not already know of it. And as you have a distinct lack of bruises, there is not one positive claim towards your abuse outcry."

And Arthur allowed his eyes to rake slowly down the blue cloak covering most of Merlin's thin form from his sight. He wanted to push the cloak apart until the ends of it fell behind Merlin's shoulders, so he could take stock of Merlin's apparent 'injuries'. He'd need to set the box aside first, onto the floor and out of their way. It would be easier for Arthur to slide his fingers underneath Merlin's sleeves and tug them up slowly, as far as the fabric would go and now allowing Arthur to touch a single inch more. Just to show Merlin that pale flesh, unmarked and untainted by anything he'd done to the boy. Proof right there on his skin, Merlin would not be able to continue this 'abuse' rant, if not one mark covered him. Arthur might have wondered how hard he would have to press for bruises to form in the paleness of that skin, but that didn't mean he'd done it. And if that wasn't good enough for his bossy little consort, Arthur might feel so inclined to fall with the grace befitting of a prince, onto blended knee. To carefully tug Merlin's pant legs up, as high as he was able to get them to go, to show more untouched skin as proof. He'd have to start stripping Merlin one slow piece at a time, if it still wasn't good enough. He was not sure he could go that far though…but the prince did not dare try to even so much as touch Merlin.

The boy had a big mouth. He could very well start up his screaming and have nearby guards come running toward them. They wouldn't do anything, of course, Arthur was prince. But that was still not a scene the blond would want to be apart of. Nor did he want to have even more scenes of his consort acting like this raging lunatic for the public's consumption.

"…That is just like you. Believing only fists and marks, bruises and broken bones are the only signs of being abused." Merlin said boldly, lifting his chin just a tiny bit higher, a defiance flashing in his eyes. It may have been once upon a time, Merlin had thought the exact same thing. But Merlin had long since learned…words can sometimes hurt, even more than unwanted touch of skin against skin. It was Merlin's body that rebelled against even Arthur's shoulder brushing along him as he walked by, stomach roiling at the mere thought of it. But it was Merlin's soul and heart that remembered every vile thing Arthur had spit at him. Every curse or sneer or scoff, every word that made Merlin feel as if he was lower than the gunk forming inside the gutter above their heads. "I might not have the marks, but it does not mean you've never hurt me."

Merlin almost wanted to jerk up his sleeve and show off the bruise Markus had left on him. To pass all the bruising around his forearm off as the first mark the prince had left on him. Maybe seeing the evidence for himself would provoke a reaction out of Arthur, or prove he's as heartless as he marks himself out to be in front of Merlin. But that would have been a cheap shot, and a lie. If Merlin was going to go showing off bruises and marks, then it would be one the man had actually left on him. Not a lie to manipulate the other man to be someone he wanted him to be…it wouldn't have worked anyway, for two reason. Merlin was sure Arthur didn't have a soul in the first place. And there was a good chance the bruising had already healed by now. Merlin hadn't exactly had time to check on it, but bruises had never lasted long on him anyway. But that didn't mean they still didn't hurt when he'd been forced to bear them.

"…Okay, I see here. We're trying to start ourselves the pity party, is that it? With how hectic our weeks been, I haven't been paying you enough attention?" Arthur said bluntly, clearly still not getting it. Merlin allowed his mouth to drop open a little in disbelief, wondering how it was possible for a man to be so obvious, to all of the destruction his carelessness left behind in his path. Merlin wanted to scream 'how he'd wish Arthur paid him less attention, or no attention at all, instead of seeking him out just to start these fights up', but it felt as if his throat had closed up. Allowing no sound to escape him. Arthur must have taken this as Merlin about to say something though, because he raised both hands up in this placating gesture, "Fine, fine. I will be the bigger man here and admit that whatever I said to upset you, striking you down or whatever, was taken out of context and won't happen again. It was a regrettable thing to do, and apparently wasn't a good choice of words on my part."

Arthur didn't really give a fuck, and that was clear in his piss poor 'apology' if one wanted to even call the words that. It was nothing more than Arthur making excuses for himself, and dismissing his own behavior problems as something completely different from the consort's. Arthur was Prince. Merlin was Peasant. So, that was all there was to it. There were different rules for each Class to be followed. Arthur could do things Merlin could have never dreamed of being they were married. Arthur was being generous to give Merlin an apology at all, even as horrible as the one he'd given him. But he figured he could give the boy something he wanted to hear, and brush this whole thing under the rug.

"Taken out of context? Unreadable?" Merlin couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh, even though there was absolutely nothing funny about any of this. But he figured, it was either laugh about it, or drop to the ground and cry his eyes out about the unfairness of the world. But Merlin had long since knew how fair the world was, he was a sorcerer after all. Nothing in life was fair after that. And besides, Merlin had done wasted enough tears on this arsehole. The least he could do was wait until he was alone. "Those are all nothing but excuses. How exactly can I take things 'out of context' when you literally said 'strike me.' So, I may not have the education you apparently pride yourself on, but there's only one way anybody could take those words. You might want to be careful, you don't exactly sound like a 'doting husband'. Hell, if I didn't know any better, I would almost say you think I deserve to be abused and mistreated and…"

Merlin said this all very casually like, as if there was nothing better in the world then your own husband telling him he deserved everything he'd got. Telling Merlin he deserved the bruises that often marred his shoulder blades after being tripped in the hallway. Or the endless wondering's of 'what was wrong with him now' when the stall owners had been calling out, and asking him to spend the non-existent gold on one of their little trinkets to fix whatever 'mistake' he'd gone and made with Arthur. Arthur ditching him the night of the dance had literally spoken for itself. Obviously, it had been Merlin's fault as well. But apparently, the prince thought there was nothing wrong with this. He didn't know how Merlin cried himself to sleep more than he ever had before coming here. He didn't know Merlin often twirled their wedding ring over and over around his finger, wondering how the hell he'd gotten here in the first place. He didn't know Merlin could've soon been found sitting on his windowsill, and would be staring down at the ground for hours. Not sure if he was mourning or thankful that his window wasn't higher up. The jump from Gaius' tower…he'd break a leg. But it wouldn't end his pain…

"Do not go putting words in my mouth." Arthur said in a strict tone, seeing straight through Merlin's casual manner in an instant. Arthur would never admit aloud of the million of things Merlin deserved. The boy did deserve being disciplined, corporal punishment was a thing with unruly children. And nobody was exactly going around claiming it was abuse either. The prince thought it was absolutely ridiculous that Arthur trying to discipline his own unruly consort, could have been seen as abuse. There was no difference between one parent trying to make their underage son behave and Arthur trying to do the same for his husband. But…it did leave an unpleasant taste behind, inside Arthur's mouth, knowing Merlin would have seen it like that. It was probably a good thing then, that the prince had never managed to land a heavy handed smack along the curve of Merlin's cheeks. That would have given Merlin some actual marks to show off, and he could have misconstructed the story to anybody who'd be listening. Make Arthur out to be a…not a wife beater…a husband beater? Nothing could've been done, with Arthur's status, but it still wasn't the reputation he'd want floating around. "None of this would have been happening at all, I wouldn't have said what I said that day, if you had just left like I told you to."

Things would have been so much easier if Merlin had swallowed his damn pride, and left down the dreaded side tunnel like Arthur had been urging him too. Then maybe Uther would have never accepted his 'deal' in the first place. They wouldn't have had to spend long stalking around the castle, tense and waiting for one of the knights to catch onto the 'fugitive' that roamed around in their midst. Maybe it wouldn't have been as hard to convince his father that it was true, there was a beast living in their water supply, if the boy hadn't already gone and made an enemy out of the king. All of this would have been simpler if Merlin had for just once, did. What. He. Was. Told.

"Yes, Arthur. I'm gonna do everything I'm told to do, not once thinking for myself about what I should do, or what is right." Merlin spit the words out at the man as if they were acid. The consort knew full well, there was about a million young ladies out there who would want to stake their claim in the prince. And it the man wanted somebody who just sat there-blinking at him with a dumb expression, smiling like everything in the world was okay, and tilting their 'pretty little head' as if they understand whatever the council was talking about, then Arthur should go and marry them. Rip up the contract, pretend the whole thing never existed in the first place. Nobody could enforce it if nobody wanted it in the first place, right? It would set Merlin free, and leave Arthur to marry some bimbo, maybe Clarissa, even. Merlin was sure anybody else would be okay with living through what Merlin's endured, as long as they got everything Arthur had tried to offer him in the past. "You always act as if I'm your dog or something. Am I supposed to fetch when you tell me too? Am I only out and about right now, because this is your version of letting me 'out for a walk?'"

Arthur opened his mouth to explain, yes. Merlin was like a dog in a way, how many times had the prince likened Merlin to a pet? Somebody who he would be giving treats to, rewards like jewels and riches, when dogs would have preferred belly rubs and scratches on the head. Different methods, but the same exact result. A more obedient pet. But Arthur closed down his sharp retort just as fast. He was trying to get this over with, use his obvious superior intellect to find a way for Merlin to move on and not put so much stock into the things he said in the heat of the moment. Not start another fight that would leave Merlin throwing a box at his head, just like he had tried to do that day in his new chambers, with the original box.

"…There you go again." Arthur said, with another little flippant of his hand, looking away from Merlin as if he couldn't be bothered with him anymore. Which might not have been the best move, considering the prince was trying to convince Merlin to keep the chest. That was the only reason he'd agreed to give Merlin these three 'wishes' if you will. Of course, he had also been under the impression that Merlin would ask for more material things Arthur could have gotten his hand on in a snap. Maybe it was stupid, considering the chest didn't exactly cost a fortune and was nothing more to Arthur than an inconvenient paperweight. But he also wanted Merlin to swallow his pride and take the little, stupid thing, off his hands. "Always acting as if I have nothing better to do then soothe whatever imagery it is forming in your mind. It's completely unreasonable to behave like this."

Arthur did have better things to do with his time, and all of this was nothing but a waste. He should take all the limited time he had to rest up, get himself a bit of proper food-he really had been neglecting himself as the days had passed-and prepared himself for things that would come next. Arthur was not prepared to be wasting the rest of his night tending to Merlin and his delicate sensibilities. Arthur already had to watch for how he spoke to other people, but he drew the line to doing the same in front of Merlin himself. Abuse…the mere absurdity almost wanted him to laugh, since he knew Merlin could have it so much worse then what it was he had now. Arthur could really give his consort something to complain about, if he wanted to sprout off those fake claims.

"…Unreasonable? I'm being unreasonable? Because I want a little human decency, without you looming on my shoulder like some kind of leach?" Demanded the consort. Because that was exactly what the man had became in his eyes? Nothing but this no good leach, a parasite wanting to drain Merlin of every ounce of blood he had coursing through his veins. Until there was nothing left but a corpse, staring up at him with dead eyes until somebody removed him, long before he had a chance to stick up the place. Throw him in a ditch somewhere and light it on fire, being done with him as if he was the trash. Merlin could see that this was going nowhere, he should have known it was. He had been clinging onto hope like a vessel, bobbing in the roaring and crashing waves, thinking maybe if the prince knew how awful what he'd done was, he might be a bit more remorseful. But like the waves crashing on his head and dragging him down into this watery abyss-his grave-until he was given the sweet release of darkness…hoping for anything more was hopeless. Merlin shook his head, "Whatever, Arthur. Just…don't ever talk to me like that again. There is a lot of crap I can put up with, but I won't put up with anything that even resembles being abused."

Merlin felt as if he had finally gotten the final word in, saying what he needed to. There was no point for the argument to continue, the prince would do whatever it was he wanted to do, and there was nothing Merlin could do about it. Nothing that could stop the blond from becoming an even bigger monster than Merlin already knew him to be. But at least he'd been heard, even if it was probably going to be ignored. At least it had been his line drawn in the sand, a barrier telling the prince what he was and wasn't okay with, even if Arthur would most likely barrel straight over it. Caring not if he knocked Merlin onto his backside in the trail of his destruction. His words were really, the one and only weapon he was allowed to use, until they tried to take that from him as well. He just needed to learn to use them efficiently, though…he was not going to be stupid and think for one second that Arthur would be man enough to listen to what he was saying.

"Stop using that word!" Arthur hissed at Merlin, while taking more offense to it then he had been moments before, since Merlin was apparently hellbent on that narrative. "It was just words! I've never hit you, I have certainly never abused you! And as long as you never give me a reason to 'strike you down' I can absolutely swear that nothing of the sort is going to happen!" as if Merlin had any faith in his word these days. He had already broken his word to Merlin before, why did he think Merlin would see this as anything different than another lie in the making. Merlin wasn't willing for the betrayal to swallow him, like waves knocking down all the floodgates-the walls-he had built to keep people like Arthur out, by stupidly believing his word as the truth this time.

And as if Merlin wanted a physical barrier, though not nearly as strong as the mental ones he had taken the time to slowly build with bricks in his mind, formed to the sounds of his own tears, he made a swift roll with his shoulders. This caused the cloak to fall forward to surround him completely, covering even the box from view. Anything to shield what little he could from the prince's gaze. Any bit of protection he could get was nearly a godsend, when one would considered what the alternative was. Touching…touching…touching…

"…I think I'll be going now." Merlin said stiffly, fiddling with the box within the safety of his robes. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do with it, maybe he could use it for kindling in a bonfire…but he knew he wasn't going to stand here and start up one more argument with Arthur. The prince's inability to admit he was wrong…it was stupidity to try again and again and expect different results than what he was being shown. And as Merlin was starting to learn, there was no reasoning with stupidity. Merlin did take one step back towards the stairs, though he didn't dare take eyes off of Arthur. He didn't trust the prince to not try and grab him to prevent him from leaving, and he was not going to leave himself wide open for attack…look at how paranoid Arthur had made him? But was it really paranoia when everybody actually was out to get him. "…But hey, you have a nice life Arthur. Since I suspect you won't be needing me for quite a while yet."

Merlin's lips twisted, showing the heavy bitterness in the action as the last word died off his lips. That was just another way Arthur was an abusive husband, the way he was a neglectful asshole. Only coming to get Merlin when he needed him to be a prop, to play as a happy couple. Well, Merlin didn't want to pretend to be happy. He wanted to 'be' happy. And Merlin could only see that brief hint of happiness being reflected in Gwen's eyes, when she would get her first taste of true freedom after being in a cage. There wasn't any happiness here. Merlin could admit to being almost grateful that Arthur never wanted to see him, since it meant he didn't have to waste his time on whatever it was Arthur would start up this time. But that didn't mean he was happy being used. Like a cheap whore, as Markus had called him. Only called upon when he was needed, but was never acknowledged…

"Wait! You can't just leave!" Arthur stopped him, and taking a step forward when he saw Merlin taking the first step down. Merlin's head whipped up, looking at Arthur with sharp agitation and cautiousness. Arthur didn't go further-it felt too much like he was chasing Merlin if he did-and ground his teeth together to try again. Calmer and more dignified like a prince, than a wild animal trying to stop a boat from escaping him, and his wild clutches. "You cannot leave unless you admit I haven't been abusing you. I can't just go and have you running around the castle with that inside of your head. So, you need to get rid of it."

The way Arthur was speaking, one might think the prince thought ridding one's mindset was as easy as tossing out a random piece of clothing that was too tattered to be stitched into something more wearable for him. Merlin wished it was as easy to shut off all of his emotions like Arthur seemed to think it was. Then he wouldn't keep allowing Arthur's presence to hurt him like it did. But that was just reality, his reality. To know his future would never resemble what the more innocent version of him had considered. Merlin had never really been 'innocent'. It was hard to be when one wrong move could have him hung. But Camelot had made him much colder than he had been before.

"…No." Merlin said simply, adopting the cold tone he had taken to speaking in whenever Arthur thought he could get bossy with him. Did he really think he could just go and command Merlin to change what his own mindset was? What a delusional man. Spoiled, living the luxuries of a prince had clearly done the man no good when it came to the real world. Merlin saw the prince in question, open his mouth to start up what was probably going to be another command to do it, or else. What. The fuck. Ever. Merlin spoke before he could, not wanting to be pushed back into a corner if Arthur felt so inclined. "You keep telling me all these things like…how I'm unreasonable. And how the only thing I ever do for you is cause problems. Apparently not even defeating a monster, and saving the entire kingdom, thank you very much, is able to break that view of me."

Arthur winced, not enjoying that Merlin was speaking the truth. Most people probably would have gotten a reward of some kind, for being such an essential part of stopping such a huge threat. But not Merlin…never Merlin. Even if Arthur had been inclined on giving the consort a more public recognition for what he'd done to find the beast in the first place, that had fallen out of the window the second Merlin had started wailing about abuse. And even if the prince was willing, quite grudgingly, to admit that Merlin wasn't a liar…it didn't mean Merlin didn't see things in a strange light. Not a mental light, Arthur had to remind himself, because it was apparent that Merlin wasn't crazy. He was just…strange. And strange people saw things that weren't there. Like abuse, when Arthur had only been trying to prepare Merlin for the Royal lifestyle, by punishing any and all signs of Peasant-hood, he saw in the boy.

"But I swear to you now, Arthur Pendragon, rather or not you see it as abuse…" Merlin started again, voice stronger and more strict than it had been before. His blue eyes seemed to shine as even brighter pools of cold blue than they had been mere moments earlier, impressing onto the prince just how serious he was being. "I fucking do. And mark my wards, if you ever speak to me like you did during the council meeting. If you 'ever' try to throw your weight around before making good on your word to 'strike me down', I can promise you this. The crisis that happened this week, will look like nothing once I'm through. I'll rein hellfire down on you like you have never seen before. Is that understood?"

And Arthur did understand…kinda. It was really hard to think though, feeling as if his brain had froze as he stared at Merlin in disbelief. That commanding tone of Merlin's, that harsh scowl on his lips, that defiant tilt of his chin, the glow in his eyes…it all made for a surprisingly compelling sight. He'd know Merlin was a mouthy thing, and talked more than he thought the things he said through. And that was the better side of him. The worse side of him included things when he got violent: the subtle crack in his from where he had gotten his head bashed in by the harsh curve of Merlin's skull could testify to that. But this…the blond hadn't known Merlin had it in him.

"I said," Merlin's voice rang out again, being the one in charge for once, as the sound cracked out of him like a verbal whip. "Is that understood?" Merlin would not leave this spot without an acknowledgment from the prince. He didn't know exactly what kind of fire it was that he would rein down on Arthur, but Merlin did have ideas running through his mind faster then it felt he could keep up with. Many of them involved finding a way to devoid Arthur of his hands, and the consort allowed his eyes to drop down to the hands laying at Arthur's sides. Merlin could almost feel those hands on him, a phantom memory sensation of Arthur as he shoved him forward, forcing him down low, so that he had his belly pressed against the desk. Vulnerable to Arthur's ministrations, weak and blind and unable to see what he was doing behind him. Merlin could feel his stomach lurching, but he held strong, not daring to allow Arthur a chance to see him so weak again. It was degrading…if Arthur wanted to touch him again, with those vile things called hands…Merlin would do far more than stab him with a quill.

He was going to cut them off.

Painfully, and slowly. And maybe he would even be a bit poetic, and use Arthur's own sword to do it with, it had a nice feeling to it. He'd use it like a saw, just how he knew Arthur hated it-if his reaction to how Merlin had been using it to cut the head off the monster had been an indication-to slice through the flesh. To take care as he cut through the muscles and the veins, to feel the blood soaking his fingers and the agonizing screams from Arthur. He would have to figure out just how to do this though, maybe he would need to drug Arthur to get him compliant. Since Merlin wouldn't be able to hold him down on his own, and using magic in place of potions would only get him caught if he was stopped. Merlin had never thought of doing such vile things before he had came to Camelot, but it was far too hard not to think about them now.

If Arthur wanted to use his hands to try and smack Merlin around, then the prince best be prepared to lose them.

Arthur once again, didn't say a word. And when the consort cocked an impatient eyebrow at him, a huff on his lips, Arthur could feel the way his own heart sped up a bit. Obviously, just the adrenaline and the frustration from their fight causing him to have this physical reaction in his body. Arthur nodded mutely, and watch Merlin huff dismissively at him. For some reason, that dismissing attitude caused him to have another uptick in his heartbeat, and Arthur could feel his face starting to warm. Obviously…this had to be in response to his anger. Arthur wasn't used to having people dismiss him, not like Merlin did. But watching Merlin think he could make commands of him…it was almost amusing. In this strange way Arthur didn't feel like analyzing right now.

"Good." Merlin said, speaking in the same sharp tone he'd used before. But he doubted that the speech he had just given to Arthur would really hold up for long. If Arthur wanted to smack him around, then he would do it, rather or not Merlin told him not to. But…Merlin did have to start wondering if all of this-the abuse, or the pain, or the suicidal/murderous tendencies Merlin had started to develop, was some kind of penance. It was probably his cosmic punishment, coming down on him from the very gods themselves. After all, he'd been born different. He'd been born magical. And he knew better than anybody that people like him didn't go around getting their happy endings. Or whatever childish bull he'd wanted before all of this. To Merlin, it made sense that the gods would try to punish him for his differences, by tying his life to Arthur Bloody Pendragon. "Then I think I'll be leaving now, Arthur."

Merlin sharply turned on his heels, acting brave when turning his back to Arthur, and stomping down those three short steps that led to the dungeon door. There was a time for misery-which often followed Merlin, as if drawn to him, nowadays-and then there was a time for Merlin to have whatever joy he could. Even if that not could be found in a dungeon cell, at least it would be as far away from Arthur as he could get right now. Arthur who followed him without thinking, stumbling for a second over his own feet before he reached the top of the stairs, and looked down at the back of the consort's head as he started reaching for the handle on the door.

"Wait!" Arthur called down to him, just as the other boy was starting to pull open the door. He watched as Merlin stopped, but also noted how Merlin didn't turn around to look at him. Arthur wavered at the top of the stairs, not sure if he should step down to grab at Merlin's shoulder, so he could just look at him. Or not. But in the end, Arthur decided to stay where he was. After all, chasing after Merlin was getting to be tedious, and he refused to do it. "You never told me what your third thing was." He blurted out, it was the first thing he thought of. But Merlin still didn't turn to look back at him, and Arthur wondered if Merlin even remembered what he had told him earlier. "You told me you had three things you wanted me to give you. The first was Gregory. The second was….this. But I do not believe you told me what the third want was."

Arthur, for some reason-and he frowned deeply with the thought-didn't want Merlin to leave like this. That was probably just because Arthur knew Merlin would be liable to get into some kind of trouble once he was out of his sight. Like falling down the stairs, before he landed on his head somewhere at the bottom. Since he wouldn't have Arthur there to catch him before he fell by the back of his collar, and jerking his straight back to his feet before he could off himself. Maybe though-and this was a wild and impulsive thought to the prince, as it hit him out of the blue-he wanted to see the electric in those eyes again. The defiance in Merlin that Arthur hated so much, being bared quite openly for anyone passing to see. But only the blond would get to see it…it was almost a heady feeling, as Arthur realized this…

"Isn't the thing want obvious? I'm pretty sure I have told you it before." Merlin finally said, and Arthur saw as the consort looked over his shoulder toward him. But Arthur couldn't take a moment to ask himself just why he was enjoying Merlin returning his attention to him, because he was at a loss. Arthur didn't have any idea what Merlin was talking about, but that was also nothing knew. Arthur often found the other boy to be far more confusing then he was worth. But surely, the prince would bloody know what the third impossible thing Merlin wanted was? "I want you to never talk to me again."

Arthur allowed for a whoosh of air to escape him, and he stared silently as Merlin slid himself into the crack in the doorway, the door closing softly behind him in a solid click, taking with him the chest Arthur gave to him. Though, for some reason, the quiet click of that door sounded almost louder than it would have been if Merlin had just slammed it. And Arthur was left just standing there like a fool, staring at the door as if the prince was expecting for his consort to reemerge out of it's depths, and apologize to Arthur after giving all of those ridiculous wants and 'wishes'.

Of course, Arthur should have known Merlin would've worked that bit into their conversation at some point during it. Leaving each other alone-whenever it was they could get away with it-was a pretty big staple in their 'relationship' if one wanted to call it that. But…it was a problem. Because the prince didn't want to go and leave his consort alone after that. He wanted to push a bit more, see what else he could do to get to Merlin, make those eyes light up electric blue again. It would almost be like a game, in a way, to see what buttons he could push before Merlin had enough and decided to storm off. And Arthur would allow him the chance to run off and soothe his wounds, because it was up to Arthur's discretion rather or not that other boy got to storm off in a fit.

Arthur was the one that allowed Merlin to leave.

Merlin wasn't the one who got to just up and leave whenever he felt like it…

Fuck, Arthur decided, backing away from the door as he decided last minute to leave Merlin alone. He did have every right in the world to storm down there just to demand Merlin's attention. He was his husband so that give Arthur every right in the world to bother him again and again. But, he'd be generous and give that consort of his this 'want' and not disturb him. Beside, Arthur knew a delicate moment when he saw one. He wasn't going to go down there and ruin Gwen getting released. So, he'd leave Merlin on his own…for now. It wasn't something he'd allow forever, but he would go ahead and give Merlin the bloody night to 'not talk to him' as he had so eloquently described it.

That didn't stop Arthur from storming away from the dungeon doors in a huff, agitated since Merlin made him feel like a fool. As if he was just hanging around so he could hang onto Merlin's every word, instead of Arthur himself being the one to lay down the law.

How-Arthur had to think as he rounded the corner to leave Merlin behind-had something like this even had the chance to happen. The dozens of questions were racing through his mind as he continued storming all the way through the halls, heading up towards where he slept, and knowing Merlin wouldn't be returning to his proper room for quite some time to come. Things like: how had Merlin became the one that thought he could lay down the law. Just last month, it was Arthur who was trying to give Merlin some ground rules for them-for Merlin-to follow along with if they would get this whole arrangement to work out.

And now…Arthur wasn't sure what he was the most pissed about. Allowing Merlin to threaten him with the 'reining hellfire' on his head. Or for allowing the consort to walk away from him.

X

"Yes, this is very good! Excellent, in fact." Spoke the king of Camelot, lowering the goblet of fresh, purple colored wine from his lips. Uther Pendragon was in a good mood, something he wasn't always in, stress of running a kingdom full-time was liable to do that to a man. But what wasn't there to be excited about. Sure the boy had lived to speak another day, and he'd had to assign some of his men to get to work on lowering the pyre since it was no longer needed. But quite the happy day, nonetheless. "We shall get more of this to continue our celebrations, shall we not?"

Uther held up his goblet to indicate what he meant to the three advisors he'd been talking to, tittering with relief amongst themselves, as they were taking care to split their time between celebrations and getting things taken care of. One of his many advisors right now was carefully rolling up the parchment Uther had just signed, ready to be documented with Geoffrey in the Royal archives. Known as the piece of parchment that gave the orders for the barrier keeping the lower town and the inner city apart. The lower class, those who had healed from the ordeal, would be returning to work the following morning. But as for now, more wine needed to be shared. And the king held up his goblet, indicating for more. A maid standing alone as they celebrated against the far wall, hurried forward with the pitcher in hand. Happily filling up the goblet, the infectious mood of relief and joy would soon rein throughout the entire kingdom. Freeing those who'd lived to celebrate their survival.

"Yes, sire. I shall get these documents delivered to the archive keeper right away." The large and portly advisor said in a cheerful tone. Many people would be carrying this same tone in the weeks that would come, until this whole ordeal faded away into only a footnote in their kingdom's great history. Of the day their kingdom had been nearly wiped away, out of its very existence, until the kingdom's brave heir went to fight for their survival. And saved them all. It was not a bad tale, Uther mused good maturely. Being King, it was hard pressed not to find millions of stories about him, of all the great deeds he had done. He found the matter very pleasing, knowing his son marrying that boy hadn't stopped his heir from nurturing stories of his own victories. "Is there anything else we should be doing?"

Uther only waved off the advisor, raising his goblet to his lips to take another generous sip. He was usually about to find a million different assignments or other orders, dealing with matters of the kingdom for those on his council to occupy their time with. And honestly he could think of a good dozen or so things for them to do. But…not today. Maybe Uther was just riding on the high of life, enjoying the peace in knowing how not even an…afanc…as they had called it, could make his kingdom fall. Uther himself didn't even plan to do more than he had to, to whip his kingdom back into shape, until the morning. There were still bodies laid out in the streets after all, and more in the lower town that needed to be disposed of. But again…it could all wait, Uther would allow this one night for celebration.

Before his advisors could leave, the doors were open by the guards standing outside, and Gaius stroll into the room. The king, after everything had settled, had sent the old physician on a quest of his own. With the proper papers to show the guards down at the gates that would allow him free access. Uther wasn't naive to trust the word of the boy, even with his son doing what he had to do to 'get the feelings flowing' on the little plan of making Merlin think his son cared about him. Gaius had been a fail safe, just in case, to make sure things were following through as expected down just the lower town.

"It's good news, sire." Gaius said, striding across the length of the room as he reached the king. All of the king's advisor's cheerfully nodded their heads to the physician as they started filing out of the room, intent on returning to their own families to continue with the celebrations. "The Lower Town will need a lot of work to rebuild, I'm afraid. The shops have been picked on until there is nothing left, their are broken wagons or shoddy homes that have been abandoned among the midst of chaos. Bodies like the street. But not nearly as many as we have feared. Those I managed to see have already shown signs of starting to recover, their cough's have stopped and the blue veins among their skin tones have started to fade. It will probably take a few more days before the townspeople fully recover from the leftover traces of the Sickness, but I do not foresee anymore death's coming from it."

Gaius was pleased by the results he had seen down in the town. Yes, it was practically ruins, all manner of people doing what they could to get their hands onto food, unable to work or take care of themselves. Full families were completely gone in some cases and left several houses open for those who needed shelter or had been set up as houses specifically for the sick as they were too scared to stay home. Too ignorant and not knowing the disease had been spreading through the water and not direct contact. The town had done what little they were able to, with what little they had to survive on. But…things could only go up once they got started up on cleaning everything up.

"Good, that is excellent news." Uther said, raising his goblet up to his mouth in thought, using the time he drunk greatest from it, to get his mind in order. The clean up would begin tomorrow morning, bright and early as the news would be announced from the king on his balcony. His soldiers would need to storm the lower town, and gather all of the bodies-and also the ones still laid out under white clothes in the middle of the courtyard-and have them burned. Even though it was supposed to be a celebratory night, the king was unable to set off his thoughts on everything that was going to need to be done. The sickness might've left their water supply, but Uther wasn't going to risk the decaying bodies themselves to sit out for to long and start another sickness right out from under their own noses. The farmers-the one who could pass a health inspection from Gaius-could return to the fields, and this meant the entire castle was free to start gouging themselves on what had been left of their rations. All of this, and more, would need to be done before they could truly move on.

But the kingdom would recover, of that, Uther would be sure of.

Uther lowered his goblet from his lips and turned to the man who had helped made this day of happiness a possibility, "Though, it is strange, and I find myself curious. I have never even heard of an afanc before, and then to find one in our own systems? It's quite an odd thing to find." Uther had seen plentiful of magical creatures in his day, they had roamed the land on this frequent basis before he had started up the purge to get rid of them all. He had seen Unicorns, and trolls, and creatures with snakes for hair, or walking around on donkey legs with a human top half. He'd seen and slayed the dragons of old, had heard stories of those who swum in the depths with a human top but a fish tail below, luring sailors to their doom with the allure in their singing voices. But in all of his days, and with all of his destruction as he drove those creatures out of his kingdom, he had never seen or heard of a thing like the afanc. Uther shook his head before tilting the goblet in Gaius' direction, "And just to be sure…there is absolutely no chance that the girl was the cause of the beast?"

Uther might have already signed away her release forms, but that didn't mean he couldn't have the girl arrested again, before she tried to make an escape for it, if he had been wrong to do it. Uther Pendragon wasn't known as the most ruthless and cautious king Camelot had ever known for nothing. He took all that he heard with a grain of salt, and decided on his own what course of action needed to be taken. He would not be duped by a little girl and that…boy…who'd got his heir involved in this. But Gaius would know, Uther usually left magical matters up to him nowadays. The man was quite knowledgeable, especially since Gaius had a history of his own concerning magic. But Uther trusted him to give him the right knowledge, he could not fault the man for dabbling in things that had not yet been illegal in the eyes of the law. Gaius had long since repented against his former ways, and was now a trusted alley against these inhuman creatures that thought the world was theirs. And thought they were able to do whatever they wanted to it…

"No, sire. There's absolutely no chance that Gwen could have conjured the beast. She is far to young to be able to have the experience needed to carry forth such a spell so efficiently." The physician repeated to the king, keeping a stoic expression as he nodded his head just a little, like what was expected from him. "I do not believe she is even capable of doing that spell that was used to heal her father. From how it's been described to me, I believe I know what spell had been used to create the poultice. It's a basic spell, yes, but it would have still been too complicated for even one who was a beginner. Odds are, it was the real culprits attempt at a distraction. One that was foiled because Merlin knew Gwen, and was able to see right through it."

The lies spelt from Gaius' tongue with this surprising ease, but that was what one did for family. To protect them from injustices they didn't deserve. His nephew should not have gone rouge and healed Gwen's own father after Gaius had specifically warned him not to, but if Uther hadn't made it so difficult for magic to be used, then Merlin wouldn't have had to hide what he had done in the first place. And, Gaius had to admit to himself grudgingly, his words had a bit of a snide to them that Uther didn't seem to pick up on.

"But back to the afanc…it's conjured from clay and it has magic infused within it, giving it life and allowing it to move on its own. And I fear, that only an ancient sorcerer is able to create it, a sorceress that we both know of. One strong enough to invoke and mirror life itself where no life lived before." Even before the old physician had finished, he could see the dawning and horrified realization starting to appear across Uther's face. After all, there was only one sorceress the both of them knew of, one that had already proven before just how strong she was…being able to shift around a life, being able to create what should have not been born…this was no easy feat. Gaius pulled something out from behind his back, "I found this down where the water is."

The one thing Gaius couldn't resist doing, since he'd already been around the area in the first place, was to make a stop down in the water system. Just to be sure everything had been taken care of proper, and could be confident that there wasn't going to be any surprises later on. He had found the husk of what the three young one's had left behind. But he'd stopped long enough to do a brief inspection of the watering pool itself. And had been forced to fish out this little gem that had been glittering down in the bottom of it, just waiting for somebody like him to pull it out.

"It bears the mark of Nimueh." Gaius said, showing the king the bottom half of a broken shell, one large enough that he had to hold it with both hands. And angling it so the king could see the golden symbol it had embedded onto it's side. It was this family crest, one that many nowadays wouldn't recognize from all the years that had passed by since the death of the main family. Only Nimueh remained. But Gaius hadn't had to say anything at all, the king's skin had gone a shade paler than it had been the second he'd caught sight of the symbol. One symbol that often made its home in his nightmares, whenever he dared to allow his guard down long enough to dream. "…We must be vigilant, my king."

This whole sickness being a scheme from Nimueh…it definitely washed away any hint of doubt that the girl could have been involved. Nobody knew of Nimueh's existence, especially not a handmaiden. It had been Uther himself who had overseen every record of that woman destroyed, refusing to allow anybody else the chance to put the pieces together…to figure out that Uther and Nimueh were connected in anyway. A king and a Sorceress, who had a past that the king wished he could forget. It had been twenty long years since Nimueh had forsaken Camelot, and taken off into the woods while vowing vengeance against the kingdom as a whole. And it looked as if she had finally started making good on her word. Uther should have known it would happen sooner or later. But after they'd lived twenty years without even a sign of her still being out there, Uther had just assumed she had either moved far away from the city, or had died long before now.

Uther turned away, his hand clenched so tightly onto his goblet that his knuckles had turned white. "Will I ever be rid of her?" He asked himself quietly. He was a man that prided himself on being able to control his emotions, who knew what needed to be done and he knew how to get it done. But Nimueh had caused him this reaction….she had always known how to get him going. Even when she was miles away. He'd tried his hardest to put her away from mind, but it was hard to do when…he was forced to remember what she had done every time he looked at his son's face. Probably another reason he was more distant from his son, far more than he would have liked to be. And now Uther had that boy running around…looking exactly like his father had at that age. Could Uther truly never have a chance at peace, without having all of these constant reminders of things he'd done in his pass. His son…a reminder of the woman who had lied to him, and had wronged him. And then the boy, a reminder of Him. A friend he thought he could trust, before Nimueh had opened his eyes of their trickery. "With Nimueh out in the world doing god-knows-what…and with that boy running around, will my kingdom ever truly be free to live in peace?"

Uther had never been one to speak so freely of his past mistakes, even now just the mention of Nimueh made him feel as if he had aged twenty years or so, but Gaius was the only one who knew the truth. The only one in the entire kingdom who'd been there as everything started falling apart around the king. He had seen Nimueh weaving her spell work above his wife's midsection, had seen and looked after Uther's precious Queen as her pregnancy progressed. He'd delivered Uther's son into the world, and had been the one to inform him of the bleeding that wouldn't stop from the Queen's neither regions. Uther had lost everything that day, but it had made his strong. Had taught him to never trust those who could weird that magic as if it was their right…

"…Sire…" Gaius spoke up slowly, setting the egg shell that had once carried the afanc into their water down on the table, the sign of Nimueh pointing up towards them. Neither able to escape from their storm clouds hanging over their heads by Nimueh's return. "Maybe this is not the best time for it, but I do believe there is a lesson to be learned here." Gaius watched as Uther whipped his head around, narrowing his eyes sharply at his physician. "I might be overstepping here, but I do believe making deals and the like are things that should be looked over more throughly before signing away your agreements."

Gaius supposed, this statement could've been taken either way to the king. On one hand, Uther would be mad because it seemed as if Gaius was blaming him for Ygraine's death. Anybody who didn't want a death sentence hung over their head would know to never even mention the Queen in Uther's presence. But on the other hand…Gaius hadn't appreciated the knights returning to his chambers and tearing it apart again, this time in the search for Merlin. He hadn't exactly appreciated his nephew being lied to, and then being forced to hide for his own safety hours before he had to. Gaius had thought his heart had stopped when he had knights showing up at his door, summoning him to the king's chambers. He was sure Merlin had been caught, and the council was being pulled together to get their signatures as witnesses for the accused…

Maybe Uther knew that. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe it was Gaius' somber expression, or their long-time friendship that got him off so lightly. "Leave me!" the king roared in his face, refusing to believe he'd done anything wrong. Everybody else was out to get him, out to destroy his kingdom, out to take what was his by Right. And he would not allow even Gaius to throw that in his face. Be gone with him, be gone with them all, before Uther did something drastic.

Gaius seemed to sense this, and said not one more word on the subject. He simply bowed his head down before the king, turned on his heel, and strode out of the room with his head held high. The grand doors to the room were slammed shut behind him, sealing the king inside. By himself. Alone. Nothing but the sound of his own blood roaring inside of his eardrums like a steady thump, thump, thump. And then Uther let his eyes drop down to the goblet in his hand, shaking in his paranoid rage-Nimueh could be watching him for all he knew, sorcerer's had all kind of ways to spy on normal people-that the wine inside looked seconds from spilling out over the edges.

Unable to contain his anger, Uther let out this mighty roar and raised his arm over his head. Before he was throwing the goblet as hard as he could towards the wall. The goblet slammed against the wall with a loud clang, the sound echoing out as the goblet fell to the floor with a clatter. Uther watched, the room seeming suddenly far too quiet-only his ragged breathing was heard-as the wine splashed along the wall started its slow descent down. Drip, drip, drip, along the curves and crevices that made up the wall.

Uther didn't stop in his madness, whipping around to sling out his arm. It caught on the half egg shell that bore Nimueh's symbol, and the white shell-pure like the freshly fallen snow-hit the ground. With one step, Uther destroyed the egg into a million pieces, leaving the shell as nothing more than a memento of the evil witch's return. Uther didn't allow the clumps of white egg shell clinging to the bottom of his shoes stop the walk up to his thrown room chair, where he whipped around and sat stoically in his chair.

Uther grabbed onto the armrests of the chair so tight that his knuckles had returned to that white shade it had gone earlier. Gaius just didn't understand, Uther decided darkly. He didn't understand the choices the king had to make if he wanted his kingdom to survive long enough to make it to the next generation. If that meant chasing Nimueh from his kingdom those years ago, then so be it. If that meant having that dreadful boy trialed for witchcraft, and burned at the stake to protect his son from going through the same betrayal he'd gone through with the boy's father…then so be it.

The Kingdom came first. Always.

The time for celebrations for the king was done. He'd spend the rest of the night thinking of different kinds of countermeasures, or safety protocols, or plans, on how to react the next time Nimueh made an attack to his kingdom. Uther couldn't be idle any longer, sitting back and waiting for when the next attack was going to be. He had to prepare. Had to be vigilant. Nimueh had waged a war onto his people, had started all of this with the actions she took twenty years ago.

If Nimueh wanted a war, then a war was what she was going to get.

X

Miles and miles away from Camelot, Nimueh stood in her cave. Her long dark hair fell around her pale face messily, as she bent her head down to watch all she could, the water in her basin forming an image of the king sitting in his throne chair. And a nasty smirk was growing across her face, knowing she had gotten the king's attention.

Her plan hadn't gone off as she had wanted it to be, it was all that boy's fault of course. Merlin. The son of the man who refused to come with her when she had asked him too, when it had became apparent to even them, that there was nothing they could do to stop all of the madness Uther was wrecking. Balinor wanted to keep trying, wanted to escape with the woman he had been seeing…she knew Balinor had left not even a week later on his own. Before she lost track of him. Balinor was as smart as she was, and knew very well how to cover his tracks.

No matter though.

Nimueh was already working on the final details of her next plan. And if Balinor's son was the focal point of it…then so be it.

X

Merlin pressed his back harshly against the door and took a moment to breath, still clutching the chest to his actual chest. He…felt pretty good about himself, standing up to Arthur as he had. But Merlin doubted it was a feeling he would have for long. Merlin really didn't have many 'bright moments' since coming into the city. And most of what he did have, seemed to be overlapping and covered over by Arthur's shit usually following right behind it.

At least Merlin hadn't done anything stupid like trying to 'forgive Arthur' for all the stupidity he'd been living through. He had made the mistake of doing that once before when the prince had apologized to him during the dance, about no longer believing him concerning Valiant. And look at where that had gotten him. Alone and watching Arthur making his way across the floor, escorting Clarissa into the first dance of the night. At least Merlin had learned some hard lessons, finally … Arthur wasn't to be trustworthy. And Merlin had this stupid box as a reminder of that…

Merlin pushed himself away from the door, opened up Arthur's cloak-the only warmth he had since the dungeons were freezing-and dropped the box into a large pocket on the inside. He needed to put any and everything that reminded him of Arthur to the back of his mind for the moment. So he could finally connect with the one spot of goodness his life had.

Gwen.

X

Merlin regretted with every fiber of his being that he had decided to come to the dungeons. He wanted to put Arthur out of mind, but it was surprisingly hard to do so when he was wearing his cloak, weighted down by the chest in the pocket. And you know, it was that prince that had distracted him. And forced him to just go forgetting why he shouldn't be in the dungeons in the first place. He had meant to prepare himself long before going in, not just thrown himself in head first and be hit by the repercussions. And Merlin felt as if he had been hit by them…hard.

By the time Merlin was halfway down the stairs, he'd needed to hold onto the cave walls. His head felt far too heavy, as if it was weighed down by a million and dozen or so large stones. His breath was becoming a bit ragged, somebody might have thought he was an eighty year old man who had lost his breath by going down stairs that were to steep for him. How…thought the consort, through a sluggish mind, had he allowed Arthur to distract him so throughly. How had he been allowed to forget what happened to him whenever he came down to the dungeons.

"Going into a place like the cells they have here in the city is not what I would do, young warlock. But, I can not allow you to go without being warned. If you have to go down there, and I suspect their will be times for your presence as Consort would be required, so keep your time as limited as you can. Be as brief and quick as you can. And most importantly, don't allow others to see the results of what happens to you. Not all the people are blind, and some might be able to put the pieces together, and see what you really are, young warlock."

The dragon's warning seemed to echo somewhere in the back of his mind, and Merlin gritted his teeth with one arm wrapped around his stomach. He could feel the cold seeping in through his body, on the inside of him, the cloak doing the barest minimum at keeping him warm. He wanted to curl up into a fetal position to try and starve off some of the pain. No, not pain in the exact term. He wasn't hurt. This wasn't like being stabbed or something. This was more complicated, it made him want to sleep. But knowing if he did, there was a good chance he wouldn't bother waking up.

And Merlin had only the dragon's warning, echoing in his ear, to keep him going. To keep him moving. Just one foot in front of the other, his sluggish mind tried to think, clutching onto the wall tighter when his foot slid and he almost tumbled headfirst down the stairs. This was dangerous, but he was already down here…if he didn't d fall into a forever sleep, Merlin just knew he was going to die after smashing his head in when he fell.

At least Arthur would finally get rid of him. A fall right down the stairs was this perfectly acceptable way to end him. And neither the king, nor the prince, would even have to lift up a single finger to do him in.

"Sire! Sire!" The faint voice screamed from a distant state away from him. Or maybe it was closer, only a few steps behind him. He hadn't even heard anybody coming down the stairs after him, maybe Merlin had been going far slower than he thought because each step felt as if it took several minutes just to get down, long enough for somebody else to have entered the staircase. Merlin would have thought it was the blond haired prince following after him, intent on doing just a bit more of his torturing ways, only with having this new advantage. Merlin didn't have the wit in him, not when he was like this, to put up a proper fight. "Sire, are you alright?" The question barely heard with how foggy Merlin's mind was. As if he had been drugged or something.

A hand landed, hot and heavy on his shoulder, which caused Merlin to jolt off the wall-he had only stopped for a moment to take a breath and collect himself but this breather may have stretched on for several long minutes for all Merlin knew-and whipped his head to the man-handler, though his vision swum considering how fast he had moved. The man standing in front of him looked as if he had three hands, dancing around his vision before he blinked, the image clearly until it was only one man standing there.

"Sire?" Tom asked him, looking flushed and excited, but also mixed with concern. It was evident that one of the people who'd been in the room-one of those guards perhaps, had seen fit to inform Tom that his daughter was being released-but Merlin was ruining the reunion. Just because he couldn't get over this strange sickness that would overtake him whenever he came down here…seriously! How was nobody else going through the same thing he was? It was as if he could feel a pin and needles sensation where he was able to reasonably guess, his kidney was situation. It might develop into a more stabbing sensation as the consort stayed here longer, like a knife twisting away at the flesh of his gut. Like a pig for slaughter. "Do I need to help you to Gaius? You're looking unwell, my consort."

Tom shot his gaze further down the stairs, wanting to do nothing more than race down there so he had the chance to wrap his baby girl in a warm bear hug. The one thing he thought he would never get the chance to do again. But, he couldn't leave behind the young boy either. The consort…Tom knew the consort had made all of this possible. Just like he had promised Tom he would all those days ago. Their family owed the Consort a debt…one they could probably never repay. But maybe Tom could start by seeing toward the consort's personal safety. God, Tom hoped the consort hadn't been injured! Tom would never have been able to forgive himself if he and His, happened to be the reason the consort had contracted some grievous injury.

"No! No, I'm fine!" Merlin said with a sudden burst of energy, pushing himself further away from the wall so he couldn't cling onto it. His legs felt like jelly, and he had to take a moment to steady himself before falling forward on his face. But Merlin didn't care, even as a hint of nausea tried to come out of him. He forced it back down, before forcing his heavy head to look up at the taller man, having clearly surprised him by his sudden burst of energy. "There's no need for any of that. It's just been a long day, I'm fine…can't wait to see Gwen before I retire to my chambers…"

'People might be smart enough to piece the puzzle together, if they see what you hide' repeated slowly in the back of Merlin's mind. What the dragon spoke to him when he'd gone to see him down in the caves. Merlin was thankful it was just Tom-Tom wasn't one of the soldiers, his sluggish mind was able to tell him slowly-and that was the safer option. Hopefully, Tom would be too distracted by Gwen-Merlin's reasoning for mentioning her in the first place-to think Merlin's weakness was anything more than being tired after a long day of monster slaying. A soldier though…Merlin was sure they were naturally more suspicious, might be able to connect the dots. Probably not after being seen the first time, but if Merlin came down here later on, and others saw him and started talking…someone would figure it out. Merlin couldn't take any chances, not even with Tom. He was lucky he had a convenient excuse, this time. It wasn't a guarantee that the next time he had to come down here-he hoped there was never going to be a next time, but he figured he was not that lucky-would be right after a monster fight.

"So, it's true then!" Tom exclaimed loudly, making the consort grit his teeth, wincing at the loud volume the other man had spoken with. Everything seemed to be far too loud, as if sounds were trying to be drilled into his head with several long nails. But Merlin's sluggish plan to distract Tom-was that what was he had done, Merlin wasn't entirely sure, being far too slow to pick up on what was going on exactly-seemed to work, as the blacksmith brightened up considerably. "My little girl, my daughter, my Gweenie…she's really going to come home? She's being released today? She won't go to the pyre?"

Tom's excitement was written all over his face, and he was babbling in a way that reminded Merlin so much of his daughter, that it almost made his chest ache. Though that could've also been just one more symptom from being in the dungeon, for all he knew about it. But still, to think…they had came so close to losing somebody like Gwen. Somebody who was far purer, and more deserving of her freedom, then he'd ever been himself. Merlin nodded his head-though he nearly followed his head down the stairs, and had to jolt himself back up straight before he could take his tumble-in response to Tom's questioning.

"Yeah, Tom, Gwen won't be going to the pyre. She's been freed of all charges." Merlin announced, but the man's excitement must have been infectious enough to effect even Merlin in his altered state. Merlin was smiling. It was weak, and looked more pained then he had ever looked when smiling before. But it was also there, nonetheless. Merlin didn't have much reason to smile these days, Arthur seemed to take even that away from him, but it felt good to feel a stirring up of hope in his belly. But that could've also been another sign of nausea, and Merlin tightened his hand around his belly as subtly as he could. "Gwen's coming home tonight."

Those words almost seemed to resonate somewhere inside of Merlin, a subtle warmth forming in the pit of his stomach, and making its way through the bits of churning nausea trying to make its reappearance in his throat. But that hardly mattered, Merlin thought as his weakened smile became a bit broader. 'Home' had became an almost relative tone to Merlin during these last few months. He'd had a home once, not all that long ago. Home had been sitting on the floor of his mother's hut, listening to her humming to herself as she taught Merlin how to hem his own clothes. His home had been carrying a bucket of water inside the hut, watching his mother seal up all of the doors and the windows so nobody could peek in, and watch the consort use magic to heat up the water. It had been a home where Merlin could return, covered head to toe in sweat and dirt after a hard day in the fields. Seeing his mother finishing their small dinner and laying it on the table to welcome him home. Home had been him sitting at his mother's feet, smiling to himself as she ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him to fall in a restful sleep.

Those days were gone.

And now, home was the upstairs room of his uncle's business. It involved a rundown bed that creaked as he sat on it, sounding as if it was prepared to break. It was the one luxury he had here, since they didn't have enough money to afford a second bed, and he hadn't been about to let his mother sleep across the floor. Home also included Gaius, now. It involved the aged physician reading his texts to Merlin as they sat at one of the tables before bed. Helping Merlin get a handle on his reading-he didn't really need help now a days though, since Merlin had pretty much gotten a handle on it-but it was nice to know somebody didn't mind helping him. Home now, was eating meals with his uncle. Or letting Morgana hook her arm around his own and dragging him off someplace to get him to do something. Or listening to Gwen babble on and on about her day as she went along with her chores, refusing Merlin's offer to help her. None of that was perfect, it didn't compare to being back in Ealdor.

But he was grateful to have those little moments, even if he couldn't see himself forming a real home here in Camelot.

"We must go and see her then!" Tom exclaimed, and he looked almost like a lunatic when he raced ahead of him. Merlin couldn't help another weary grin, and had to put a hand on the wall to start easing him with slow procession down the stairs. If he tried to go any faster than he was…he'd probably give everybody a surprise when h went rolling down the stairs. Luckily though, Merlin managed to get there, and a breath of relief escaped him, something in his shoulders were relaxing now that he wasn't in fear of falling. Landing on that final step was almost a godsend.

"Merlin! There you are! I was wondering when you'll get here!" And Merlin blinked, clenching his hand on the wall slightly. He'd been so grateful that he gotten himself down the stairs in one piece, that he almost forgot what was at the bottom of the stairs. Tom, of course, looking as if he was bouncing on his toes in excitement. Morgana, the one who had spoken, with a grin so wide, it wouldn't have been considered to be unladylike, since it was nowhere near the demure it should be. As well as Knight Bryon, and the Knight Christian, the former being the one rolling up Uther's parchment. The one he had signed, explaining about Gwen's immediate release. "It took you a while, but I didn't think you would want to miss this either, what took you so long?"

Merlin felt an uptick in his heartbeat, blinking slowly and leaning more heavily against the wall than he'd wanted too. There was no chance in hell, that Merlin was going to tell her about Arthur. And how he'd did his whole 'let's waste Merlin's time with his pointless arguing, so I can point out ever flaw he dislikes about him.' That was just embarrassing, and also, it wasn't necessary. This was Gwen's day, her freedom, and it was her moment to walk out like a free woman. There was no way Merlin was going to take that away from her by making this day about the crap-show that was his and Arthur's relationship.

So Merlin forced a smile, feeling like it was probably harder than it should be, as if he had weights trying to attach themselves to each corner, "Oh, I just got a little lost. Still trying to find my way around the castle you know. But I found it, so what are we waiting for. I am sure Gwen would like to get out of here as fast as she can." The Consort babbled. Everybody seemed to be giving him strange looks-probably because it had taken him way to long to get that sentence out. It had probably sounded slurred as well…if they didn't think he was a sorcerer being affected by whatever it was in these dungeons, they they would probably be thinking he was a drunk now.

But Merlin didn't care right now, he was far too tired to care about anything right now, his own strength of will being the only thing keeping his drooping eyelids open. At least nobody questioned the lie that spewed from his tongue, Merlin didn't think he could've done an adequate job at keeping people off his track. After all, they probably just thought he was stupid, for not knowing his way around after two months. And sure, there was still some parts that he hadn't gotten to go exploring around yet-the castle was far too big to be mapped out properly, with dozens of hidden tunnels spreading off-but Merlin knew very well knew where all the important bits are. Dungeon included.

Morgana whipped around to the knights and the long black braid of hair fell gracefully over her shoulder, "I do believe you have heard our Consort. You have the letter in your hand from King Uther himself, and I, the King's ward, am demanding that you allow up to see my handmaiden. As she's been freed of all charges, I really do think she should be allowed to return to her work." And the lady waved her hand towards the door that led into the cells, waiting for the knights to step forward and unlock them. The anticipation alone was almost enough to kill then, knowing Gwen was almost there. Knowing they were this close to getting hands on her, and knowing it wouldn't be the last time they could touch her.

"I suppose things look as if they're in order," Knight Bryon said in a grudging tone. He had been looking forward to seeing a proper burning, it had been quite a while since their normalcy was broken up by having a good and proper execution. Bryon handed Christian the piece of parchment with Uther's release ordering on it, and marched past the group standing there. He reached down, and pulled out this large ring of metal keys, at least twenty or so different ones hanging off the ring. But Bryon seemed to know exactly which of the keys were needed, because he fitted the key into the lock. With a solid click, the door swung open and revealed the cells. Tom wasted no time going forward and practically diving into the chambers, racing on to find the cell that had his daughter in it. Bryon walked after him at a more sedate pace, grumbling under his breath, as someone still needed to unlock the door to Gwen's cell. And he wasn't about to trust the peasant with his key ring set.

'…Fuck…' Merlin thought, pushing himself away from the wall. He took an unsteady step after Morgana as she disappeared through the doorway, but he didn't dare take another step closer. He blinked, since the room had been swimming with colors, these different shades of brown and silver, metal and stone, mixing altogether until he wasn't sure which was which. But even though the fog of his mind, Merlin knew walking any further was probably a bad idea. The dragon had said he could literally die if he got to much exposure from whatever was in these dungeons that made him ill like this. There was every possibility in the world he wouldn't be walking out again. Maybe if he was lucky, he would be able to crawl out, if he could push at his body and force it into compliance.

But Gwen was down there, she needed him. Well she might not need him specifically, but Merlin knew-now more than ever-that people needed to know they had others there. Other people who supported them even during times of distress, people who were friends not just through the good times. But through all the crap life had to offer as well. Maybe it was smarter to just go back upstairs. By the time Merlin reached the top again, Gwen and the others would probably already be coming up as well. He could just see her up front, make sure she was alright with his own eyes before he got his strength back enough to make it back to his room. He'd probably just find a way to ruin Gwen coming home anyway, if he passed out during all of the hugging and the crying…

"Merlin?" Merlin blinked startled, the sound of his name causing him to whip around. He wobbled on his feet for a second, before he focused on Morgana. He hadn't even noticed Morgana hadn't raced ahead to the cells with the other's. She was standing inside of the doorway, looking back at him with this concerned frown, lifting an eyebrow when she noticed he hadn't been following her. Merlin wanted to curse, because he seemed to be doing nothing but making the very few people he cared about, worried for him. His own uncle was worried, Gwen had been worried before all of this had taken up her time, and now even Morgana was looking as if she just wanted to bundle him up in a blanket somewhere until he got better. "Aren't you going to come see Gwen? I'm sure she'll want to see you…?"

This was probably Merlin's chance to make a number of excuses to get out from going in there. Maybe he could say he was too tired to go, but that seemed to be a jerk move. He was 'tired'. More tired, that he did not want to see one of his only friends after she lived through this ordeal. The ordeal Merlin had ended up being the one to put her through? It wasn't like Merlin could explain this wasn't a normal tiredness, the kind that a simple nap would cure. This was far different, a sort of weariness that ached his bones, made it far too hard to move, weighing him down as if he added a good fifty pounds to his body weight instantly. The kind where, if he gave in and laid down, there wasn't any chance of him getting back up again. He would just lay there, and allow himself to waste away until it was only a sack of his bones left. Abandoned by the people who never knew him, forgotten by the people who had never wanted him…

"…yes…" Merlin's sluggish mind could barely tell what he was agreeing to. If somebody had asked him to go ahead and use magic-the cold was seeping further in his bones, he felt cut off from his magic, the little ball of ever present light was dim and barely blinking as it struggled to hold it's presence-then there would be a good chance he would have agreed. Merlin would've been too out of his mind to care about what might be the consequences. Like now, he was too sluggish for him to think past making Morgana happy with him. "I am coming…"

If Morgana thought there was anything off about the way his speech was stifled and awkward, she didn't say anything. Maybe she was to excited about Gwen to see that somebody was obviously wrong with the consort. She only smiled at him, and reached out her hand, expecting him to take it so she could lead him inside.

Maybe Merlin was just too fucked up to even care he was being touched, as he reached out to grasp onto her hand, clenching around it like a lifeline and could see Morgana's smile going more gentle. She tugged on his hand and together they went through the door though…maybe he just knew on some self-conscious level that this wasn't Arthur. And that was enough for Merlin. A very dangerous thing indeed, since the boy could have been walking off with anybody, someone with ill-intentions in mind. And Merlin wouldn't even care, to focus on keeping his footing, and to weak to fight back should it be needed…

Merlin could only vaguely here a whisper in the back of his mind, telling him this was a bad idea. But that voice went ignored, and the door slammed shut with a heavy slam behind them.