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The pain is indescribable.
It’s far worse than anything else he’s encountered before, and that includes the blade Mordred had driven into his side years prior.
It feels like every inch of his body is burning up with pain, blurring his vision and it reluctantly brings him down to one knee.
“If only those you and your father put to death could see you now,” the warlock before him sneers. “You, Arthur Pendragon, on your knees before me while I watch you slowly burn alive like your father before you had done to my people.”
“I cannot apologize enough for the sins of my father,” Arthur says, earnest. “Or my own in the early era of my reign. I can only move forward, and–”
Arthur’s vision dims and everything around him becomes distorted and muted, but he shakes his head to clear it, trying to focus. He can hear a low rumble that seems to come from the very depths of the Earth itself, and despite the agonizing pain in his body, he lifts his head to look the enraged sorcerer in the eyes.
“I truly am sorry,” Arthur says again and he can see the realization dawn on the sorcerer’s face, eyes fixed somewhere over Arthur’s shoulder, the sorcerer’s mouth shaping the word ‘Emrys.’
In an instant, the sorcerer is on his knees, and Arthur wishes he could appreciate the irony a little longer. He can feel Merlin’s hands on him, getting him to his feet, but the usually welcome touch burns, and Arthur flinches away.
Everything goes deathly still.
“What did you do to him?” Merlin turns his attention to the sorcerer on his knees, his voice low in a way that sends chills up Arthur’s spine. “I would answer very, very quickly.”
“Lord Emrys, I was only teaching him a lesson,” the sorcerer says. “If he could feel half of what our people have felt on the pyre, it would be enough. I was never going to go further.”
“Is that supposed to appease me?” Merlin snaps, and Arthur is fairly sure most of this is just Merlin showing off. “King Arthur has done so much good for our people for many years, and you repay him–and by extension me– by cursing him and causing him pain?”
Arthur reaches out and presses a hand to Merlin’s shoulder. It still burns, but Arthur is willing to weather it, especially since Merlin looks seconds away from turning this sorcerer to ash where he kneels.
“I’ll pass judgment,” Arthur says, squeezing Merlin’s arm. Merlin’s eyes flash gold and the sorcerer crumples in on himself, unconscious.
At least the pain is gone, now, and Arthur sways a little in relief.
Merlin immediately turns to him, hands on Arthur’s arms, stroking, looking him over.
“I haven’t seen you like that in awhile,” Arthur comments, keeping his voice casual, eyes on Merlin’s face. “It was a good act, though. I genuinely thought you were going to eviscerate him on the spot.”
Merlin just frowns at him. “It wasn’t an act,” he says, voice low and rough. He’s still in Emrys mindset, and Arthur has learned that sometimes it takes him a little longer to come back to being Merlin. Arthur’s Merlin. “I would have done it, without question, if you hadn’t–”
“Merlin.”
“You aren’t your father. You have never been your father. Even before you knew what I was, in the earliest years of your reign, you never unjustly punished a magic user. You never lit a pyre. He had no right touching you, inflicting that on you. He had no right taking you away from me, harming you in the name of those who cannot speak for themselves, in my name.”
The air is charged in the way that only happens when Merlin’s magic is gathering against Merlin’s will, and that usually ends with property destruction and a lot of guilt on Merlin’s end.
“Merlin, enough.”
The air immediately settles, and Arthur breathes out, relieved. Merlin still looks a little riled up, though.
“You are not your duty. You no longer have to live by what destiny imposed on you when you were barely eighteen,” Arthur continues, soft but firm. By the look on Merlin’s face, it might have been the wrong thing to say.
“Duty?” Merlin echoes, then laughs, incredulous. “Do you really think I want to do any of this out of duty? That I am one of your knights who will simply kill for you if you so much as implied the need? After all this time, do you truly think I protect you out of duty or destiny?”
Arthur does know better, and that’s the problem.
Arthur loves Merlin in a way that far surpasses mere friendship, companionship and common bond. He isn’t foolish enough to think it isn’t mutual, either. What they have isn’t simple, and extends beyond anything Arthur can truly comprehend, and that’s dangerous.
He’s seen what Merlin would do for him to keep Arthur safe, emotionally and physically. Arthur lives and breathes today because Merlin could not accept Arthur dying from Mordred’s blade and commanded the fates to turn a blind eye to one man.
What is between Merlin and Arthur will remain unspoken, because Merlin is good, but Merlin can be dangerous, and Arthur will not be his ruin.
“Let’s head home,” Arthur says instead, and they work in silence to haul the sorcerer’s unconscious body onto Arthur’s horse, and the occasional brush of their hands and bodies against each other is enough.
Surprisingly, Merlin does not seem angered or offended by Arthur avoiding the question.
Arthur thinks Merlin already knows the answer, after all.