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In retrospect, Arthur could say he'd been duped like a child. He could have laughed at his own naivety but right now, as Morgana tied him up to a metal ring fixed in the rock of her cave, he had lost his sense of humour.
After his encounter with Merlin, Arthur had held his promise to himself and enquired about the lives of magic users. What he'd found had horrified him. Not because of how they were using their magic but because he'd realised how wrong his father was. These people only wanted to live peacefully and used their magic for small improvements in their everyday lives. They were in no way a threat. Yet Uther persecuted them. As it was, Arthur couldn't do much because he knew full well his father wouldn't be convinced he was mistaken, not on that matter. The prince hadn't even tried. Instead, he insisted to go with each patrol sent to seek and destroy sorcerers and came up with a handful of ways to save them while appearing to have successfully followed Uther's orders.
As time went by, his name became known in the magic community. So much so that one day, Morgana had come to him. She had said she wanted to bring a new era to Camelot, an era where magic users could live together with non-magic people in peace, where magic could be used like it should, to heal and help crops grow. Her plan was quite simple: take Uther down from the throne and put Arthur in his place. Arthur had objected, of course. He would never do anything against his father. But little by little, she had managed to convince him. Uther, she said, wouldn't be harmed. He would simply be deposed and would later be allowed to live normally in the castle, as long as he wasn't a threat. Morgana could speak well and she knew what Arthur wanted to hear. A revolution without violence, without a single drop of blood, to achieve a new time of peace, that's what he wanted. Little did he know at the time that it wasn't at all what Morgana had in mind. His father had always said he trusted people too easily. Morgana wanted the throne for herself, of course. As to the people of Camelot, she didn't really care about them as long as she could re-establish her people's, the magic user's, rights. Hopefully, Arthur had realised that before her plan was put into action but she wasn't at all happy about his withdrawal. That's how he'd found himself in her cave, his arms painfully tied above his head.
He pulled on links but the rope didn't give. Morgana laughed.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"Oh Arthur dear, what did you imagine? That I'd let you turn your back on me just so you could send your knights against me?"
He growled again, as angry at himself as he was at her.
"But don't worry, I'll let you go. When you're finished telling me where Uther hid the Cup of Life."
"Never!"
He snarled. Morgana had been careful enough not to reveal her plans to him but nothing good could come out of her possession of such a powerful object. Morgana smiled, her real smile, the condescending, vile one. The one she'd kept hidden until then.
"Well, well, if you don't cooperate, I'll have to use my own methods. You don't want that, Arthur, I can assure you."
"You won't get a word from me!"
She shrugged and walked closer to him, so close he couldn't even see her wicked smile.
"We'll see about that."
She flicked his cheek and walked away.
****
Morgana did have her own methods, as Arthur soon witnessed. What she liked was crushing his bones with her mind. Not all of them at once, of course. One by one. She begun with the last phalanx of Arthur's left pinkie. It hurt like hell but what Morgana had forgotten was that Arthur was a soldier. He was used to pain. He wouldn't give away his kingdom that easily.
The day after that, it was the second phalanx and the day after that, the third. Then she moved to the next finger. When she reached the last phalanx from his left hand, Arthur had to admit he might have been a bit optimistic about his pain threshold. He never gave in, though.
When she was finished with all the bones in his left hand and started to work her way to his right one, Arthur was reminded of his thought when the torture had begun. Morgana had forgotten he was a soldier. If she mutilated his sword hand in a way that would obviously prevent him from fighting for the rest of his life, he could as well not leave that cave. Giving her what she wanted might save him but he would be nothing once outside. He wouldn't be able to take Camelot back, not without an army, and finding an army in these conditions would prove almost impossible. So he had no reason to leave, none other than putting an end to the excruciating pain but the end would come anyway. That's how he found the strength to endure.
Then, when her technique obviously didn't work, she was in his head. He wondered why she hadn't begun with that but suspected she took pleasure in torturing him. But it had lasted long enough and now she needed answers. So she simply searched his head for them. He could feel her. He could feel her darkness in his mind and he rejected her. He put all his strength into pushing her away but it wasn't enough. She ransacked his mind until she found what she wanted, leaving behind so much hate, so much anger. When her presence disappeared he felt stained, hurt in a way nothing else could ever hurt.
He barely registered the door crashing in and a male voice incanting. He didn't see the fight happening just in front of his eyes. Then suddenly, there was a face close to his, a face that was not Morgana's.
"Arthur?"
He knew the voice but didn't remember whose it was. It didn't matter.
"Arthur?" the voice repeated. "Can you hear me?"
The prince squinted. He concentrated on the man's features and then, finally, recognised him.
"Merlin?"
Arthur had never seen him again since the night he'd let him escaped. Why was he here? Was he with Morgana? How else could he know where she lived? He took a step back, wincing as the rope pulled on his wounded hands.
"I'm not here to hurt you, Arthur."
The prince had already made the mistake of giving his trust too easily and paid the price. He took another step back.
"I came to help you. You're safe now. Morgana… Morgana's dead."
For the first time, Arthur looked around. The sorceress lay on the ground, her neck forming an odd angle. That much was true, at least.
"Let me help."
Merlin's eyes turned gold and before Arthur could panic about it, his restraints disappeared. He screamed at the pain in his hands. His knees buckled. He would have fallen if Merlin hadn't caught him, helping him sit down.
"What has she done to you?"
"Go away."
He didn't want to trust anyone anymore. He just wanted to die there, with his useless hands and his minds full of Morgana's poison.
"You're in pain. I can help."
"No, you can't. I betrayed my king, my father, and what for? I trusted her and she… She..."
"Shh… I know. I was fooled too. I thought we shared the same ideas but obviously we didn't. I would have warned you but I didn't heard you'd met her until she abducted you. I'll heal you and then you can tell me everything, alright?"
Merlin's voice was soft and his eyes, concerned yet Arthur didn't like the way he looked at him. It was too gentle, too friendly. His words made his heart sprint. He raised an arm to cover his yes.
"No! Don't… Don't go into my head! No!"
"I can't do that! Is that what she… It doesn't matter now. Arthur… Look at me, please."
The prince lowered his arm.
"I don't want to hurt you, I promise. I haven't forgotten what you did for me."
Arthur looked into Merlin's eyes. There was something soothing in their blue, something that found his way to Arthur's heart and calmed its wild beatings. He'd trusted his and his men's lives once and he hadn't been proven wrong. Maybe he should do the same now.
"You would have escaped even without me."
"But you could have killed me and you didn't. You helped. Now let me help you."
"I'm useless, Merlin. My hands… They'll never heal and if I can't hold a sword..."
"Then you're lucky I trained with the best healers."
"You... You think you could...?"
"It'll take time but yes. If you stay home with me for a while, I could treat you."
Arthur wavered. Following Merlin to wherever he lived and staying with him seemed a bit much considering how little he knew about him. Yet what other choice did he have?
"Alright, I'm coming with you."
He made a move to stand up but Merlin stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Let me ease the pain first."
The sorcerer looked at Arthur expectantly and the prince nodded his approval. With a few words from Merlin, a delicious warmth seeped into Arthur's body. It went to his hands first, slowly taking the pain away, then ran through the rest of his body, to his sore shoulders and his weak knees, everywhere replacing the hurt with a welcomed numbness.
***
Merlin lived in a wooden house in the heart of the forest. It was small but comfortable and it had a room for Merlin's patients. Arthur slept there. When he could sleep.
Each night, he would wake up screaming at the nightmares, terrified and ashamed. In his dreams Morgana had succeeded and taken the throne, killing Uther and the people of Camelot in the process. In some of them he had helped. In others, watched in horror, helpless, his sword falling from his hands whenever he reached for it. In the worst, Morgana had survived in his head and slowly took control over him.
Merlin was there in a heartbeat every time. He would take Arthur in his arms and soothe him with whispered words until Arthur fell asleep again. Sometimes he fell asleep himself, huddled close to Arthur and they would wake up in a tangle of limbs and it shouldn't have felt as good as it did.
Arthur's hands were as slow to heal as his mind. He grew more frustrated every day. He wasn't used to idleness. Sitting still in Merlin's house was becoming a challenge and it wasn't helped by the fact that, his hands held immobile by a spell to help the healing process, he couldn't even do anything for Merlin. On top of feeling out of shape, he was feeling useless. Yet he never complained, out of respect for the sorcerer's efforts. At first, he'd worked several hours a day on replacing every tiny piece of bone until he fell from exhaustion. It became easier once everything was back in place but he still had to spend time every day to help the healing process.
To kill the time, they went for long walks in the forest. Arthur had felt vulnerable, at first, without his sword or a few knights to protect him, even though he knew Merlin was well worth dozens of his men. It still amazed him that someone could have so much power. No matter how many sorcerers he'd met or how many times he'd seen Merlin use his magic, he was still fascinated. He even suspected Merlin to perform simple tricks just to impress him. There was, after all, no reason for the fire to constantly take a different shape or to light the house with floating orbs rather than the profusion of candles stored in the cupboards. Arthur didn't complain. He gladly stared at Merlin's prowess in wonder and revelled in the pride written on the sorcerer's face.
During their walks, they were joined by wild animals, foxes or birds, sometimes a deer or a boar and, in one memorable occasion, a bear. They seemed to love Merlin and Merlin loved them. He stroked their fur and whispered words in their ears. Arthur didn't doubt they understood.
When he didn't talk to their four-legged companions, Merlin would have long conversations with Arthur. He told him in more details about Morgause, how she had captured him in hope he could make her a great sorceress despite her lack of magical abilities and how she had turned him into her pet sorcerer when that plan failed, about Morgana and how he'd been wrong about her. He talked about magic, what it meant to him and how it connected him to nature. Arthur talked about life in Camelot and his tricks to save as many sorcerers as he could from Uther until he took the throne and changed the law. But their discussions weren't always serious and, more often than not, the woods echoed with their laughter.
Days turned into weeks that turned into months. The nightmares disappeared. Arthur recovered the use of his hands. They were weak and clumsy, though, so he stayed with Merlin to exercise. Uther surely thought him dead by then. He had never sent words of his survival in fear the king would search for him. As Morgana had been careful to pay bandits to capture Arthur, he hoped that his father hadn’t associated his disappearance with sorcerers. The prince dreaded to think how Uther would have taken his revenge if he’d suspected his son’s death was the work of magic users.
Anyway, Arthur didn't want to leave just yet. He said he didn't want his people to see him weak, in truth a part of him didn't want to leave Merlin. He missed Camelot and his knights, felt guilty of not being there to protect his kingdom, but he knew too he would miss Merlin and their life in the woods once he went back. Here he was treated in equal. There were no sugar-coated words and curtsies. Here he didn't have a kingdom weighing on his shoulders. For the first time in his life he felt free. And to be totally honest, he might be more than a little bit in love with Merlin and the sparkle in his eyes and his radiant smile. So he stayed and trained and learned.
Sometimes people came to be treated. Those who recognised Arthur were wary but a few words from Merlin were enough to reassure them. If the patient was a child, Merlin would make butterflies for him while he treated him. When children had come with one of their parents, Arthur would teach them simple moves with a wooden sword while Merlin was busy. Sometimes a patient would have to stay for the night or more so Arthur gave them his room and he would sleep with Merlin. No matter how far apart they fell asleep, they always woke up entangled. They never talked about it but deep inside, Arthur wished their patients would never leave.
"You're a very generous man, Merlin, with a very caring heart," Arthur said one day as they watched a boy trot away next to her mother, the same boy who'd arrived a few days earlier with a foot in the grave. The woman had had to coax him into leaving because he'd grew fond of Merlin and his butterflies and small dragons the size of a lizard.
Merlin shrugged.
"What point is there in having magic if you don't use it to help others?"
"Not everyone sees it that way."
"That's true."
There was a pause before Merlin spoke again.
"You're a good man too, Arthur."
"Am I? I'm not so sure about that."
"I've heard countless tales about you and how you smuggled sorcerers away before your knights could capture them."
"It's funny because I've never heard of you."
"I didn't want you to."
Arthur frowned. He turned to Merlin but the sorcerer was avoiding his eyes.
"Why?"
"I was angry at you. I heard about the sorcerers you saved but at the same time nothing changed in Camelot and I thought… I thought you were just trying to ease your conscience and that you didn't really care about these people. I don't know. I thought if you wanted to end the ban on sorcery you would have done it long ago so you were just being hypocritical and maybe… Maybe you were just helping these people so that they didn't revolt."
Arthur opened his mouth to retort but Merlin stopped him with a wave of the hand.
"I know now that I was wrong. I don't care much for politics and I never realised how difficult such a change would be. Nothing can change with your father on the throne and you can't simply depose him."
"But why did you save me then? If you hated me."
"I thought about Uther's wrath if you were lost to magic and how sorcerers would suffer. Then I hoped to convince you to change the law once you got back to Camelot."
The prince dropped his gaze. Something constricted in his chest. He didn't know what he'd thought, that Merlin had remembered their encounter as often as he had, maybe, or that he too had hoped to meet him again. Once again, Arthur realised how naive he was.
"So nothing you did was really for me," he whispered, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.
"That's not true. I remembered what you'd done for me and… Whatever your reasons were, you still had saved countless sorcerers. But I... I must admit it wasn't my primary concern. I'm sorry."
Arthur smiled sadly. He'd thought Merlin genuinely liked him, that they were friends. He wondered how he could not have seen that his stay here was just a way for the sorcerer to show him magic was good and that it was time to end the ban on it.
"Well, thank you anyway," he finally said.
"It would be different now."
"What do you mean?"
Merlin still refused to meet his gaze. His cheeks coloured slightly.
"If you were in trouble, I'd come for you. Only for you."
Those words eased the pain in Arthur's chest and replaced it with something warm, something that grew with every one of Merlin's smiles and every one of his spells.
"I want to say I'd do the same for you but I doubt you'd need me."
Merlin smiled. He finally looked at Arthur and his cheeks took a darker shade of pink as their eyes met. This might have been what decided Arthur or maybe it was the fact that his hands were as deft as they'd been before and he knew he couldn't delay his return to Camelot for much longer. In any case, he rested his hand on Merlin's.
For a fleeting moment, the sorcerer stared at their hands in silence. Then he sighed and took his hand away.
"I can't. I'm sorry."
There it was again, the pain in Arthur's chest, squeezing his heart.
"It's alright," he said, although right then, he didn't feel alright at all.
"No! I mean… I'd like to, really but I can't. Not when people like me are still persecuted in your kingdom. I'm sorry."
And he looked it. Arthur could see his point, too. Even though Merlin knew Arthur wasn't like his father, it would still seem hypocritical towards other magic users and also very impractical since there was no way Arthur could leave the kingdom to visit a secret lover on a regular basis.
"Don't be. I understand."
****
Arthur left a week after that, escorted by Merlin who insisted on protecting him from eventual bandits.
"This is where I stop," the sorcerer said once they reached the border to Camelot's lands. Going further was too risky.
Arthur nodded. His heart was heavy but he couldn't avoid his responsibilities longer. Besides, each day he spent away from Camelot was a day his father could send a patrol against sorcerers and without the prince, the magic users - or the alleged magic users, for that matter - stood no chance.
"Thank you, Merlin, for everything you've done for me. I'm greatly indebted to you. If one day you need help, of any kind, then rest assured I'll do everything in my power to provide it."
"Tsk. Don't go all princely on me."
"I mean it, though."
"I know."
Merlin smiled but it wasn't the radiant grin Arthur was used to. There was sadness in his eyes and the prince knew their parting affected him as much as it did himself.
"I…" the sorcerer began but trailed off. Then his hand brushed Arthur's and he tried again. "When you're king and the ban on magic is lifted, I'll be there. If you still want me."
Surprised and more than a little moved by these words, Arthur remained silent for a while, searching for the best way to convey his feelings.
"I will," he said simply. "I'll wait for you."
Merlin bit his lower lip. He looked down briefly, twisting his hands, then he cupped Arthur's face and pulled him closer for a fleeting kiss.
"Goodbye, Arthur," he said when they parted.