Chapter Text
DAY 1
"Why are there guards outside the door?" Merlin lightly closes the entrance behind him and steps into Arthur's line of vision, a fresh basket of clothes propped on his hip and his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
"My father," Arthur begins exasperatedly, "has confined me to my chambers. Again."
It's a relief, Arthur thinks, that at least he doesn't have to wait out his father's favorite form of punishment (time-out) in the castle dungeons like he and Morgana have on several occasions.
Merlin chuckles as if this amuses him but Arthur shoots him a resulting glare and he stops his laughter. Or tries to.
"I thought that your father might have learned from last time. Want me to fetch a rope for you to escape again?"
"I'd rather not be dropped in horse shit again, thank you. Besides," He gestures to his chamber window where a grate has been installed on the inside, keeping anything that is thicker than five inches in or out. "I think I've pissed him off to the point where I'm being held captive in my own castle."
Merlin sets his basket down, and naturally, as Merlin never does chores right away, liking to procrastinate them until Arthur has to shout at him, he flops down into one of the dining chairs. Laundry abandoned.
"What did you do this time?"
Arthur can't help but admire how utterly relaxed his servant is in his chambers. The way his long legs extend under the table and he slouches, head tilted back to look up at Arthur, the sun catching in the glint of his eyes. He isn't the future king with Merlin. He's just himself.
He looks away quickly, trying not to stare for too long, though his bed curtains aren't half as interesting.
"I challenged his authority. We both know how that usually turns out."
Merlin nods. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"There's not much else to say. One of the stable boys was found to be practicing sorcery. He was just ten and didn't know any better. Father wanted him executed. I didn't. We fought. Here I am," Arthur says with little emotion, but inside he still aches for the boy he won't be able to save the following morning.
Merlin looks as if he wants to say something but he buries his mouth in his hand, elbow holding the weight of his head on the table.
"What?" Arthur prompts. "Just say whatever you're thinking."
"I think you did the right thing. Defying your father."
Arthur hates that it helps. The word of a farm boy from Ealdor. It shouldn't have that effect on him. It's dangerous, thinking of the kind of power Merlin has over him.
"Thanks?" Arthur says. Merlin may have some influence over him but he doesn't need to know that.
"So, what's the boy's fate? Do we need to sneak the kid out of Camelot? I'm sure that the druids would welcome another."
"I can't sneak anyone anywhere. Didn't you see the guards and my window?" Arthur slumps down into a chair across from Merlin, defeated.
"I could sneak him out myself," He suggests, as if it were the most obvious solution.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want you getting caught. The risk is too great. It was one thing for me and Morgana to be sneaking Mordred around. It would be a whole other with you."
Merlin knows this, Arthur can tell, but it doesn't stop him from protesting further. "I could do it. I bet Morgana is ready to help anyway. You just make a plan and we'll do all of the work."
"I don't know. . ."
"We'll be extra careful. I'll make sure we won't get ca-"
"No!" Arthur cuts him off. He's getting flustered now, because he knows that no matter what he says, Merlin will still try to help that boy, with or without him. "Don't you understand? My father won't hesitate to kill you! I won't be able to save my idiot servant this time. I don't have any sway with him anymore because he considers me a traitor. I don't want to be forced to watch your execution from my window."
It's true. Uther would kill him within a heartbeat if Merlin was found with the sorcerer boy. Arthur's many nightmares are still as vivid and terrible as he remembers them.
There's the smoke billowing up into the sky, the heat of flames warming his cheeks as if it's a hot summer day, and Merlin there on the pyre. Screaming. He's never heard him scream before, but he imagines that's what it would sound like. Maybe he wouldn't scream at all, just sit there in all his collected courage and will, letting the heat snake over his skin and clothes, burning him all at once.
Arthur feels as if someone has twisted his stomach around itself. He's queasy and sweating.
The dreams started when he put the unexplainable pieces together to find that the answer was Merlin's magic; All of the odd occurrences, almost-deaths, and mystery that was his servant. He can't pinpoint when exactly that was, just that fear began to force its way into his body ever since then and now refuses to leave.
He can't protect Merlin's secret from his father, stuck in a cage. He's useless.
Merlin has gone silent. His gaze is unnerving as he watches Arthur for any sign of relenting. It alone sends another completely separate feeling into Arthur's stomach. He breathes in deeply, and looks to his feet. He knows exactly what Merlin is thinking before he says it.
"You would let a little boy walk to his death without even letting me try to save his life? Do you have so little faith in me? I know I can be clumsy and a fool sometimes, but I'm not a complete buffoon. I'm going to do this with or without your permission."
"I know you're not a buffoon."
"Then why are you so sure I won't be able to do this?"
"I just don't want to take any chances when I have so little power."
Merlin leans back again, relaxed as he was before. "You won't be taking any chances. I've got this."
"Fine," Arthur sighs, looking back to Merlin's confident composure. "What do we need to do?"
~~~~~
He's dreaming of Merlin's death again. This time, he stands locked in a cell as he watches the silhouette of his father bring down a sleek whip again and again.
They're in the courtyard. It's odd because there are no real cells that aren't in the castle dungeons. His father is doing another man's job in the dream as well so it's not that surprising. The images are only this way to inflict the most amount of fear.
Arthur slumps helplessly to the ground with each one of Merlin's pained yelps.
"Stop!" He drags the word that should be one syllable out into several wet sobs. "Father please! He can't take anymore!"
He's finally on his knees, banging his head against the iron bars keeping him back as if his pain might ease Merlin's.
"This boy is a traitor to Camelot!" Uther yells more to the crowd watching rather than his son. "By practicing sorcery in the royal household, he has committed treason! This warrants a flogging of one-hundred lashes!"
"One-hundred?" Gaius has appeared beside Arthur's cell along with Gwen and Merlin's mother. Her face is stuck in a contorted shape, eyes wide and mouth agape in a silent scream. "Your majesty, he'd die!"
"All the better. We won't have to waste any firewood for a pyre."
Gwen looks to Arthur for help along with the physician. Hunith stays frozen to her spot.
"I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him. I don't-'' Arthur turns to Look at Merlin, his head hung between his arms that are strung up and restrained to a wood post. His pale back is already stained with ugly red slashes that won't fade in this lifetime. "Father I'll do anything. I'll send him far far away. You'll never have to see him again. I'll listen to every one of your commands and never challenge your authority. I'll go to every silly meeting without so much as a complaint and I'll collect sorcerers and taxes and little children. Whatever you want from me, if you just- let him go."
Uther finally looks his son in the eye. "You will do what I tell you to do, dead servant or otherwise."
"I won't." Arthur gathers as much courage as he can. "Not if you kill him. I'll resist every order that you give, every council meeting. I'll do what I think is right for the kingdom and when you're dead everything you've worked for during your reign won't matter because I'll be king. If you kill him I'll never forgive you."
"Then you'll surrender your right to the throne!" Uther bellows, words echoing through the courtyard.
He brings down the whip and Merlin screams.
"No!" Arthur aches for freedom like he never has before. To shield his friend with his own body. To take away all his pain because if anyone should have to bear it, Arthur feels that he should. For not protecting. For not living up to his title. For letting his father get away with everything he has. "Please no!" His pleas are useless.
Merlin's mother isn't frozen in place anymore. She's crumpled in a heap on the ground, muttering, "my boy. Not my boy. Please spare him. Merlin, my baby. No. No. No. No."
Merlin screams again but this time it's his name. "Arthur!"
What can he do? His vision is blurred, his eyes have become a sea of pain.
"Arthur!"
"Arthur." Someone shakes him from behind and he turns to suddenly find himself not in the courtyard but in an empty darkness. "Arthur wake up."
He blinks. There's a shadow hovering over him but he doesn't startle. He knows the scent of this figure more than he knows anything else. Fresh herbs and pine. The smell of Gaius' apothecary.
"Merlin," he accidentally sighs. Arthur's tense muscles relax, relief from the horrors of his dream settles in. He fingers the frayed edge of Merlin's neckerchief that hangs over him. He's never felt so relieved to see the ratty thing so close.
Merlin's eyes flicker to where Arthur's hand plays. Arthur abruptly stops.
"The sun hasn't even risen," he says as if he'd actually been enjoying his sleep.
Merlin pushes himself away, jiggling the mattress and Arthur in the process. "The execution has been moved to tonight."
Execution? It takes Arthur a minute to gather his consciousness enough to comprehend. The plan! Merlin and Morgana were supposed to sneak the boy out tonight.
He bolts upright in bed. "But we were supposed to have time! How long have I been asleep? What time is it?"
"I left you to sleep only a little more than an hour ago. It's nearly midnight. When I got to the cells, James was already gone. Why would your father move the event to tonight?"
James . Arthur hadn't even known the boy's name. "He thought I might try something foolish to save the child. He wants it over with so he doesn't have to dwell on his decision any longer."
Arthur can't see him do it in the darkness, but he can hear the scuffle of feet and he just knows Merlin's pacing.
"There's nothing we can do now," Arthur finally gets out. It needed to be said no matter how upsetting.
He knows that Merlin could probably save the boy by revealing his magic. He could probably tear the whole palace down should he wish to. But he won't tell Merlin that he knows this. Not if it keeps him from doing anything stupid.
"We can't just-" he starts but doesn't finish his thought. "We have to-"
"It's done. My father's won this time. It's done, Merlin. There's nothing you can do."
The shuffling stops and instead there's a careful trail of footsteps to the chamber windows.
Arthur can see his profile now, outlined by the light able to shine through stained glass. His arm reaches through the iron bars and flicks the latch. The window swings forward and he peeks down into the courtyard just to immediately look away.
Arthur can't hear any screams or speeches being shouted.
"It's done." Merlin's voice quivers. He latches the window again, a vacant expression has stolen the fear from his face.
"Where's Morgana?" Arthur asks. He doesn't want to know what Merlin has seen down in the courtyard, so he doesn't ask. Arthur can't smell flames, so a pyre isn't possible, but he has a good imagination. At least his father isn't cold-hearted enough to burn a child alive.
Merlin lowers himself to the floor, back resting against the bed frame, knees drawn up to his chest. "She went to plead with your father. He's probably got her locked in her chambers now too."
There's a silence that stretches between them. One that speaks, that could have been Merlin down there in the courtyard.
There have been two horrors tonight and Arthur feels like a coward for finding solace in the fact that Merlin's pain was the one he'd gotten away from.
"Things will be different," Arthur begins hesitantly, words getting stuck in his throat.
Merlin doesn't move when he hums in response. A desolate, one-note question.
"When I am king, things will be different."
"You," he says, "are not your father."
"You don't blame me for my father's actions? For not trying harder?"
Now Merlin turns, looks up towards Arthur like he's offended he'd ever think that. "No."
Arthur lays back with a loud exhale.
"Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"Don't make me go. Let me stay tonight. Just this once."
Arthur reaches his hand over the side of his bed to find soft waves of hair. He pats the head twice but keeps his hand there. "Okay."
It helps to have Merlin close enough to touch, though Arthur will never tell him this.
Perhaps his presence will ward off the nightmares.