Chapter Text
Period of Yule is Arthur’s favourite time of year. He loves festive atmosphere and merry feasts. Every year his father invited to the castle dozens of townspeople to together celebrate this time of Winter Solitude. Arthur continues tradition. It’s still two days to Yule and he can’t wait.
“I hate Yule” complains Merlin. He carries dozen or so wood logs. He barely manages to hold them all together without dropping any.
“And why is that?” he asks, raising eyebrows.
“Because you always make me do twice as much work as normal servant! Not only I have to serve you like usual but also I have to run around and help others with preparations.”
“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin. You love Yule.”
“Yeah! There is nothing more fun than running after you like a slave or standing behind you pouring you wine when everyone else have a great time.”
“You are melodramatic.”
“You could say that. Only thing you have to do is deliver speech, which one I wrote to you and sit during feast drinking wine and eating delicious festive meals.”
“I’ll have you know that it’s more work than you make it sound. During feasts I have to take care of important political alliances, learn how people fare in lower town and if they need any help. I don’t expect you to understand how important and necessary this job is for welfare of a whole kingdom. Your physical work is easier in comparison, believe me.”
“And how could you know that? You did nothing by yourself your whole life!” Merlin whines, now carrying heavy logs upstairs. Arthur doesn’t dignify him with answer. He is the King, after all.
When they are at the top of stairs, Arthur stops him.
“And where are you going?”
“Where? What do you mean? To your chambers of course!”
Arthur shakes his head.
“No, you are supposed to carry those to the guest chambers in sought wing.”
“You’re joking.” Merlin deadpans. “You can’t be serious! This is on another side of the castle. I was tailing you with those for quarter of an hour already!”
Arthur fights back a smirk. There is nothing more fun than annoying Merlin when he is his regular insolent self.
“So you better stop wasting time and go there.”
Merlin gapes at him. He looks sweet like that.
“You are just royal bully I’ll let you know! King of Camelot my ass!”
Arthur wordlessly raises his eyebrows. Merlin moans, turns around and starts descent on the stairs.
When he is at the very bottom Arthur shouts “And ready me bath when you end!”
Merlin turns around.
“Prat!”
To the end of his life Arthur doesn’t know how exactly that happens. He could of course ask Merlin but because of circumstances he never does. Only thing that he knows is that one moment he is smiling at Merlin’s angry face and the next he is pushed from behind and finds himself falling. Time slows down. He could in details describe his surroundings. He sees dust flying slowly in afternoon sun. And two servant girls talking, carrying laundry. He also sees like Merlin’s angry expression transforms into terrified one.
He feels himself falling. Air blows in his face and dissolves his clothes. He looks down. He never really noticed before how long and steep those stairs are. Until now, that’s it. He knows that even if he’ll live past the fall injures will be severe.
It’s only because of this strange sensation of slowed time he sees what happens next. He looks at Merlin. He drops the logs. They are still in the air when he lifts his arm in Arthur’s direction and his eyes glow golden.
He feels himself slowing. Rapid and dangerous fall becomes slow and secure. He lands at the bottom of the stairs without inserting single bruise.
For a moment or two he just lies here. He doesn’t understand what just happened. Then situation catches with his brain and he lifts his head to look at his manservant. Merlin is deadly pale. He looks terrified as if he was the one who just almost died from a fall.
But Arthur didn’t die. He is perfectly fine. Something slowed his descent. Something connected with glowing eyes of his friend.
Arthur feels as if suddenly something shifted the world and nothing is like it seemed only minute before. As if someone just wrenched a rug from beneath his feet.
He sits up. He can’t take his eyes off Merlin’s. He still can almost see afterglow of magic in them. Merlin opens and closes his mouth as if he wants to say something but he makes no sound.
He still remembers feeling of betrayal when people he thought he could trust turned up to being traitors. He remembers this aching disbelief when he saw Morgana put on crowd. His disappointment and anger when he saw Agravaine following her.
But those feelings are nothing compared to what he feels now.
He stands up. Even if normally Arthur is slightly shorter, now he’s towering above Merlin’s withdrawn form.
He looks at him in deadly silence. No one dares even breathe.
“You just used magic” Arthur states. His words brakes this horrible stillness but what follows isn’t any better.
“Arthur...” Merlin starts, finally managing to make a sound.
“You have magic.”
“Arthur, please...”
He’s shaking badly and his brow is bathed in sweat. Arthur never seemed him so much terrified.
Arthur moves. Merlin takes a tentative step back. He wonders for a second if he’s going to run. But he’s does not. Arthur grabs his arm, hard. Merlin winces.
“You know what sentence is for using magic in Camelot.” He does not know from where he takes strength to sound so collected. He remembers his father’s words about importance of never showing weakness and does exactly that.
Merlin chokes a sob. Tears openly flow on his pained face.
“No, Arthur, please... Just listen-“
“I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO ANOTHER WORD FROM YOUR LYING MOUTH!” he yells right in his face. Split lands on his cheek mixing with tears.
Merlin shrinks even deeper. He covers his mouth with free hand trying to muffle a sob. He takes his eyes away from Arthur’s as if not bearing to look any longer.
Arthur looks around and spots the guard.
“You! Take him to the dungeons.”
Guard starts a little. He looks as if he wants to be anywhere but here. He reluctantly approaches and takes Merlin from Arthur’s grip. Before he takes him away, Arthur stops him with a gesture.
He tries to look Merlin in the eyes but servant does not look up. Deciding that eye contact isn’t necessary to this, he announces his sentence.
“You are to meet your death in the morning of day after Yule.”
Merlin shudders even harder than before. He does not raise his eyes but he looks absolutely broken. He doesn’t try to speak again.
After that, guard takes him away. When his steps and Merlin’s sobs fades away, Arthur finds himself staying in the middle of corridor with abandoned logs lying scattered on the floor. Around him stand a dozen of people who had to come here during their exchange. They look pale and worried. Few whisper silently. Everyone in the castle will hear about what just happened during next several hours. Good. Last think he wants is making public announcement.
He feels hollow. Overwhelming anger evaporates leaving only numbness. Everything is muffled as if he is under water. He stops in front of door to his chambers. He didn’t even know he was walking here. He steps inside and closes the door with a thud.
He just stands here looking blankly in a space for he does not know how long. When he finally wakes from this daze, it’s dark already. Without lit candles or fireplace it’s almost pitch dark.
He makes his way to his bed and falls on it. He does not remember falling asleep.