Chapter Text
TRIAL BY FIRE
Act 1: Rend
The battle outside ragin'
Will soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'
- Bob Marley
Prologue
Merlin wished he could kick himself for being so careless when he created that smoke apparition of a horse in the forest. If he hadn’t, the woman wouldn’t have reported a sighting of magic, and Uther wouldn’t have summoned this witch finder to Camelot to look for the source of the magic. Gaius had always told him to be more careful when he used his magic. And, while Merlin understood logically - of course, he did, he couldn’t forget what would happen if he wasn’t careful - that didn’t solve the problem of how his magic sometimes behaved like an errant puppy if he didn’t use it occasionally. He thought he’d been alone in the forest.
If he hadn’t been so careless, he wouldn’t be standing in this position, with the witch finder pointing at him, declaring loudly, for everyone to hear: “…My methods are infallible, my findings incontestable. The facts point to one person and one person alone. The boy, Merlin!”
There was a heartbeat of silence or an eternity. Merlin’s feet were nailed to the ground, and his heart raced so loudly he wondered if anyone could hear it. He glanced to the right to look at Gaius, whose face was blank but there was worry in his eyes.
“What?” said Uther dumbly.
“This is outrageous! You have no evidence!” Arthur said, marching in front of Merlin as if to shield him from the witch finder’s accusations. Merlin wanted to say something, anything, to argue that he wasn’t a sorcerer, but his mouth was dry and his lips couldn’t seem to work around the words.
“Merlin has been a member of the royal household for years,” Gaius stated calmly.
“The tools of magic cannot be hidden from me,” said the witch finder, despite the expressions of outrage from both royals. “I am certain that a search of his chambers will reveal his true nature.”
For a moment, Merlin felt relief - because he had hidden his spell-book away from all prying eyes. If they were to look in his chambers, they would find nothing incriminating. But this relief only lasted for a moment, because Uther shook his head with a small frown, and stated, “There is another method to prove his innocence. If the boy truly has no magic, then he won’t react to the cold iron cuffs.”
Another long pause. There was something heavy on Merlin’s chest, stopping him from breathing. Cold iron cuffs?
“Sire,” Gaius protested. “Surely there’s no need for these drastic measures; those cuffs will affect most men. Merlin has been a loyal servant of the royal household for several years. He’s been my ward and apprentice for the same amount of time!”
“Father, surely I would have realized that my manservant is a traitor! He’s too much of an idiot to even think about turning to sorcery.”
“All the more reason we must be cautious. You never know the work of treachery until it’s too late to stop it,” said Aredian. He was watching Merlin with beady eyes, and there was no way he could know that Merlin was a sorcerer; he hadn’t even used magic while the witch finder was here. But, there was a cold certainty in his gaze that frightened him- as if he truly did know, and Merlin didn’t know how he knew.
Merlin’s head spun as he watched Uther pursed his lips thoughtfully and look at him. He clenched his palms; they were coated in sweat. He wanted to say something clever, but his head was empty. He’d never even heard of cold iron cuffs until today, but the smugness and concern radiating from the witch finder and Gaius respectively were telling that these cuffs might have adverse side effects.
“Then let the boy wear the cold iron and prove his innocence. Guards, restrain him. Arthur, retrieve the cold iron cuffs from the vaults.”
Arthur shook his head and finally looked at Merlin, searching his face intently. Merlin shook his head, because even he looked the slightest amount concerned, and he… rarely did show any concern, especially in Uther’s presence.
“I have nothing to hide,” Merlin lied, as two guards stepped up and grabbed his upper arms gently. He wished that everyone would stop looking at him. It was too much attention on him all at once and he felt so very exposed. Perhaps this was merely a very bad dream, and he would soon wake up.
“Father, I implore you to reconsider. Merlin has attended to me daily since he was hired as my manservant. Surely, if he was so inclined toward the ways of sorcery, he would have tried to assassinate me or sabotage the crown by now. While he is a fool in the ways of the court, I’ve never had cause to believe—”
“And that’s how they always get you, Arthur.” Uther had an edge in his tone now, when he enunciated Arthur’s name. Merlin swallowed. “You’re naive to believe that the evils of sorcery cannot take up the form of an unassuming peasant.”
Arthur’s face went expressionless, aside from the slight downturn at the corner of his lips. “Yes, sire. Sir Kay, come with me to the vault.” With an unreadable look, Arthur was gone, with Sir Kay on his heels. That left Merlin alone with the two guards, Gaius, Uther, and the witch finder.
There was a long moment of silence. Merlin stood as still as he could as if that would draw less attention to him. If they discovered that he truly did have magic, he didn’t know what he would do… escape? But how? And what were these cold iron cuffs meant to do? Why had Gaius and Arthur both reacted with concern?
Well, Arthur seemed more indignant that he wouldn’t recognize sorcery in his manservant, but there had been concern too.
At that moment, the doors opened and Lady Morgana strode in with long, purposeful strides. Her emerald dress swished against the ground and her heels clicked with each step before she stopped in front of Uther. Gwen followed in her wake, keeping her eyes low and demurred as expected of any normal servant in the presence of royalty.
“My lord, what is the meaning of this?” Morgana demanded head held high and back ramrod straight. “Arthur told me he is to retrieve the cold iron cuffs to test if Merlin has magic?”
“Morgana, your insolence is not tolerated in this matter,” Uther said, glowering at her. She glowered right back before she turned her poisonous glare on the witch finder.
“You are a charlatan who will be exposed for your deceit when Merlin is proven innocent beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’s a good man who doesn’t deserve this unjust treatment.”
“My methods and results have always been irrefutable. I am certain the boy is a sorcerer.”
Morgana pursed her lips before she spun and walked up to Merlin. The guards tightened their grip on his upper arms. Behind her, Uther let out what sounded like a sigh of exasperation.
“I am sorry that my liege’s paranoia has led him to listen to the words of a conman rather than the counsel of his advisors, especially as you have served us loyally for years.”
“It’s fine, my lady. Thank you.” The guards' grips were so tight now that they hurt. Merlin wished he could say more, but he couldn’t get more words out, feeling distinctively sick. Morgana bit her bottom lip, uncertainty flashing across her face - and Merlin’s heart ached for her because she could be in his shoes next if the witch finder remained behind.
“I applaud your relentless dedication to the eradication of magic, my lord,” the witch finder was murmuring. “After the boy is exposed for his treachery, I will continue my pursuit to expose those who have succumbed to those wicked ways.”
“And you will be rewarded for your services,” Uther said.
Merlin looked at Gaius, wishing he could talk to him alone. Gaius, however, wasn’t looking at him— instead, his eyes were distant, as if he was looking at something very far away. Behind him, Gwen watched him with wide, scared eyes.
At that moment, Arthur returned with Sir Kay, who carried—
Wrong, something inside of him screamed. Wrong wrong wrong get away getaway—
—who carried a pair of unassuming manacles—
Hurts hurts hurts wrong wrong don’t
Merlin jerked away from the manacles, the cold iron cuffs, as someone approached with them— the witch finder, the witch finder was approaching, carrying them in his hands as if they were a normal pair of manacles meant to imprison someone.
He couldn’t react— don’t react don’t react you’ll out yourself don’t let them know don’t let it show—
But his magic was so close to the surface, so abruptly, so ready to lash out. Merlin felt sick holding it in, but he knew he was doomed if it released itself. He couldn’t let it lash out, he had to stay here in Camelot, this was his home, Arthur was here, all his friends were here—
“Are you alright? You’re looking pale, Merlin—” someone said, but Merlin didn’t recognize who it was because of the twisted grin that the witch finder sported.
“You’re strong. I can sense your magic just desperately wishing to lash out at me, to protect yourself. Remarkable, really, your level of self-control over it.”
He clapped one manacle over one wrist—
NO hurts hurt hurts hurts MAKE IT STOP
His magic unfurled like the great wings of a dragon from his breast, and Merlin was helpless to stop the flow as it released from him in a golden ball of light, lashing out at the witch finder to stop him from clicking the second manacle shut around his wrist—
Click.
Abruptly, everything stopped. Everything felt muffled as if there was a screen between him and… everything else.
There was no golden light bursting forth, uncontrolled. He was so, so cold.
The windows had been blown open. Shattered glass littered the ground, the sun reflecting off them.
The witch finder lay on the ground, unmoving. Probably dead.
Morgana stared at him with glassy eyes, her mouth open slightly.
Gaius looked as if he had aged a decade.
Uther had stood up, looking at him with a thunderous expression. Men were pouring in from each door, surrounding him, blocking him in, caging him in as they had caged—
His magic.
He couldn’t feel his magic. It was gone.
Everything was cold. It was difficult to breathe. His head— his head felt like it was about to rupture.
“SEIZE HIM!” Uther screamed. The guards approached him hesitantly.
The ground was yanked out from underneath him. At first, he didn’t know if it was because someone had knocked him over— but no, nobody was around him. He didn’t even have the strength to push himself into a sitting position; his arms felt as weak as a newborn filly.
Arthur.
His eyes were so heavy. There were black spots in his vision, but he had to— see— Arthur—
He blinked, once, twice, but Merlin couldn’t— he couldn’t see, the darkness was closing in.
But then, he saw him.
Arthur’s face was paler than chalk. His eyes were wide, so much wider than Merlin ever imagined possible, a reflection of his own. But where Merlin felt terror and a sense of resignation because it was out, he couldn’t control it, now it was gone— Arthur’s eyes were horrified.
They hardened, then, and his jaw tightened. But his face was pale, his hand trembled, his steps weren’t smooth—
His hand was on the hilt of his sword. He was pulling it out of its sheathe.
“P-please…” Merlin gasped, maybe aloud, more likely merely in his head— he didn’t know what he was asking for.
The darkness finally blanketed Merlin, and he wasn’t able to resist its embrace any longer.