Work Text:
Merlin struggled against the cords binding his wrists. Glancing across the clearing, he saw Arthur standing tall and proud, despite his own hands also tied behind his back. He stared down their captor, not flinching. But as if he sensed Merlin’s look, he glanced back and subtly shook his head.
Not yet.
Merlin groaned in frustration. What was the point of his secret being out if he still couldn’t use his magic? But he understood Arthur’s point. Their captor was too alert, too focused on his prisoners. As of yet, he didn’t know that Merlin had magic. He had to wait until the man was distracted before freeing himself to avoid being caught in a magical battle.
Merlin didn’t doubt he would win: they didn’t call him Emrys for nothing. But his power had a tendency to explode and Gaius had long ago given up chiding him for not being subtle. He’d rather not flatten half the forest (again) just defeating one man.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to struggle, though. Not with Arthur standing there all cool and collected, challenging the man himself with nothing more than a quirk of his eyebrow.
“I really don’t have all day,” Arthur said, as if it was nothing more than an inconvenience that he was standing bound in the middle of the forest. “What do you want?”
“To set the balance right,” the man said. He was pacing back and forth in front of the prince, muttering to himself as much as his prisoners.
It was another reason Merlin didn’t want to lash out. This sorcerer didn’t seem evil, just desperate. He hoped they could talk the man down rather than annihilating him. Arthur had developed a talent for turning a blind eye since finding out about his servant.
“What balance?”
“The number of magic-users killed,” he said. “Your father has murdered so many innocents!”
“You’ve lost family,” Merlin said softly. His words carried and the man turned to him. Arthur glared at him from over their captor’s shoulder.
“Ignore him, talk to me.” Arthur’s stare spoke volumes: don’t draw his attention.
Merlin understood it: he’d have a much better chance of getting them out of this if the man wasn’t looking at him. But he’d also found, over the years, that he was really bad at staying quiet and out of the way, especially if Arthur was in potential trouble. While the prince might have his hands bound, Merlin didn’t class that as trouble. Yet.
“Killing me won’t correct that balance,” Arthur said. He almost sounded apologetic. “If I could change things, I would. But I can promise that when I’m king-,”
“No. That doesn’t save the thousands already slain!”
“Look-,”
Merlin tuned out of whatever Arthur was saying. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Power was gathering, like storm clouds rolling in, he could feel the pressure building, focused on the sorcerer. He was preparing for a spell, and given the magnitude that Merlin could feel, the time for subtlety was over.
“Turning back time won’t make a difference,” the man said. For a second, Merlin startled. He could do that?
Wait, did that mean Merlin could do that?
Something he’d have to look up in his spell book when they made it back to Camelot. Alive and in one piece, preferably.
“it was your birth that set the wheels in motion. It would happen all over again. Killing you will upset the balance.”
While the sorcerer still seemed to be talking to himself, Merlin decided he couldn’t wait around. He glanced over his shoulder and a flash of his eyes made the rope uncoil from the tight knot. He gave a small gasp of pain as the rope drew away – apparently, he’d been struggling more than he realised.
“I have to take away what makes you who you are,” the man said, clearly coming to a decision. “I’ll take away being a prince. That will correct things.”
He gathered the power faster than Merlin thought possible. He'd heard of spells like this: where the caster took away the core essence of a person. He’d take away Arthur’s destiny: take away being a prince, and Uther wouldn’t have had the authority to pursue magic users.
But Merlin had also heard about the complexity of these spells. He wasn’t sure raw power would be enough to block it. If he had time, he knew he’d be able to figure it out. But time was one thing he didn’t have. At that second in time, he only saw one option left open to him.
As the spell rolled from the sorcerer’s mouth, a dark cloud forming, Arthur backed away hurriedly. But he’d never get out of range in time. The spell shot forward... and Merlin slammed into his prince, shoving him out of the way.
Even as he sighed in relief, the dark cloud smashed into him, lifting him off his feet. Suspended in mid-air, Merlin arched as stabbing needles ripped through his body, tearing his very essence from him. If the spell was designed to take the core of a person from them, he knew full well what it was going to take from him: his magic.
He opened his mouth, whether to scream or try a counter-spell, he didn’t know. But darkness rushed in, consuming him, before a word left him.
He should’ve reached Camelot on Wednesday.
His mother had written ahead, telling the court physician to expect him.
Wednesday was two days ago.
Merlin supposed his mother hadn’t factored in his complete lack of direction, blisters throbbing on both feet and the fact he hadn’t eaten for a day after losing his pack down the same gully that had threatened to make him lose his balance and potentially his life.
But now, finally, he could see the castle looming in the distance.
The forest path gave way to cobbled stones, making his feet throb in agonised protest. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but there was a looming sense of foreboding hanging over the place. Acrid smoke burnt the back of his throat and Merlin coughed as he hurried through to a stone courtyard.
There, he stopped dead.
There were four or five pyres, still smoking, placed at regular points in the courtyard. The few people Merlin saw hurried by, heads bowed, not daring to look up. Merlin had never exactly heard stories of Camelot being the most joyous place to be, but nothing had suggested it would be like this, either.
He picked up his pace, anxious to get away from the morbid sight. Once he’d entered, he saw two guards at the bottom of a set of stairs. Their red cloaks had black strips stitched into them and their expressions were sombre. Merlin would’ve said grieving.
“Um,” he looked up at them. “I’m looking for Gaius, the Court Physician?”
One jerked a thumb without speaking. Merlin hurried past. The air was fresher inside. The irony wasn’t lost on him even as he climbed the stairs, seeing the signs for the physician’s rooms and following them.
Once he reached the door, Merlin forgot to knock and poked his head inside.
“Hello?”
“Come back tomorrow,” a weary voice said. Merlin had never heard so much heaviness in three words before.
He slipped into the room. An old man was sitting at a bench, head resting on his palm. He was pale, haggard, and looked exhausted when he looked up at Merlin.
“I’m not seeing patients today.”
“Oh no, um, I’m not a patient. I did have this letter, but I lost my bag, and well-,”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Merlin.”
“Hunith’s son?”
“Yes!” Finally, something felt like it was back on script.
“You were supposed to be here on Wednesday.”
“I,” Merlin bit his lip. “I got lost.”
The old man – Gaius, Merlin presumed – sighed heavily. “Maybe it would’ve made a difference. Maybe not.”
“Sorry?”
Gaius shook his head. “No matter. Come in then, boy.”
Merlin moved awkwardly through the chamber. His hip bumped at a table, setting flasks rattling that made Gaius scowl, but he didn’t seem to have the inclination to do more than that. Once he stood in front of the table, Merlin looked around, unsettled by the atmosphere over Camelot.
“What’s happened?” he eventually blurted out, unable to keep it in any longer.
“You haven’t heard? No, I suppose you haven’t given that you’ve been travelling. Prince Arthur was killed last night. A witch, disguised as a renowned singer, put a dagger through his heart. She used magic: nothing could stop her.”
“Magic?” Stories of magic had always fascinated him, as if teasing a life he could’ve had if only he’d been born with power. Maybe his mother wouldn’t have sent him away if he’d had magic? He could’ve been useful to her, rather than a fatherless boy without a trade to learn.
“The king is grieving. The city, the kingdom, is grieving. He was much loved, and would’ve grown to be a strong king in time.”
“Right.” Merlin shifted from foot to foot. The grieve and anguish were clear to see on Gaius’ face, but Merlin didn’t know the person he spoke of. “Sorry.”
“Yes. Well. Now is not a good time for newcomers to enter the city, but I shall vouch for you. Keep your head down though. The king is mad with grief, and anyone vaguely suspected of having any connection to magic or sorcery of any kind is in grave danger.”
“No fear of that,” Merlin muttered. “What you see is what you get.”
He gestured to himself. Gaius followed his gaze. “Hmph. Well. I’ll ask the seamstress to run you up some shirts to replace the ones you’ve lost. You can work for me until we find you proper employment, but I doubt that will happen soon. Not with how things are. For now, there’s a room for you at the top of the stairs.”
Merlin trudged his way up the stairs. Evening was quickly drawing in and he unlatched the window, staring out. The lights glinting from the town below were beautiful, but there was an oppressiveness hanging over the town. Gaius was right: the entire place was grieving.
If only he’d gotten here a few days sooner, then... Then what? He could’ve done something? Merlin was painfully aware he was just a nobody. He didn’t have any talents other than getting lost in the woods and falling over his own feet.
The days of travelling took their toll, and he toppled into a dreamless sleep that night. It was only Gaius calling his name that drew him from his bed in the morning. It had been strange sleeping on an actual body, but it had soothed some of the aches of travelling.
“I got you water,” the physician told him. “You didn’t wash last night.”
“Oh, sorry.”
A large bucket was sitting on the edge of the table. Merlin wasn’t sure what happened, but he managed to catch it with his elbow, sending the entire thing clattering to the floor, the water flooding their feet. Blushing, Merlin fetched the mop while Gaius clucked his tongue.
Once they’d eaten, Gaius handed Merlin a pouch of herbs.
“I need you to take this into the town.” He gave specific instructions of where he needed to go and Merlin set off, knowing full well he’d never remember them.
Sure enough, he got lost. But it wasn’t as if there were people roaming the streets that he could ask directions from. The only ones he saw were guards or knights (or both – he wasn’t sure who was who). But their hands were on their weapons and their expressions were etched with anger. Merlin had no intention of approaching them.
Once he’d delivered the package, Merlin figured the safest thing to do was head back to the castle. He hadn’t even left the lower town when an almighty bang made him whirl around to see three armed men break into a small house. The splintered hinge gave away where they’d kicked it down.
Transfixed, Merlin watched, hardly daring to breathe. A minute later, a high-pitched scream filled the air. The men appeared, dragging a woman between them. She was fighting for all she was worth, but even her nails had no effect on the guards holding her.
“I don’t have magic, I swear. I’ve never used it! I don’t know anyone who has,” she begged.
“That’s not what our sources say,” one of the guards spat viciously. “Take her away: the king wants the pyres full again by sunrise.”
They brushed past so close to Merlin that one of the guard’s cloak caught his leg. Merlin hurriedly stepped back, but it only drew the attention of the soldier left behind.
“What are you doing skulking around on the streets? Some sort of collaborator, are you? Scrawny thing like you, I’ll take you in without backup even if you don’t have magic.”
Merlin almost laughed. If he had magic, he’d be able to show this soldier that he couldn’t be pushed around! No. No, if he had magic, his mother would never have sent him here. Or he would have done something differently: saved this precious prince, perhaps, and stopped the citadel becoming a place of terror.
It was only now, standing out in the street, staring at the guard, that Merlin could finally name the atmosphere that had been crushing down on him since leaving the castle. Fear. The residents weren’t just grieving their prince; they were terrified of stepping outside their doors. Given Merlin had just witnessed not even that being enough, he couldn’t blame them.
He’d heard the stories of Uther Pendragon’s war against magic. No child hadn’t, even outside of the kingdom. But now he was seeing it in action, seeing a king driven mad by grief and determined to make anyone that he could pay, even without evidence.
“I’m talking to you, boy!” A hand grabbed his collar, spinning him around until his chest hit the building behind him. All the air was driven from his lungs and Merlin gasped even as he felt the knight draw his arm up behind his back. “I’m going to throw you in jail, then if there’s any spare pyres in the morning, you can fill them. Better your head than mine!”
Merlin was too stunned by the sudden turn of events to even struggle as he was roughly manhandled back through the streets and into the castle. The guard took him a way he hadn’t yet been, and the cool air and damp smell gave away where they were heading. Sure enough, it was only minutes later when his hands and knees skimmed the floor of a small cell and the door clanged shut behind him.
Sighing, Merlin drew his knees to his chest, hugging them to keep warm. He couldn’t blame the man, not really. It hadn’t been anger in his eyes, but the same fear blanketing the rest of the kingdom. No doubt the king expected his orders to be carried out and the pyres filled, regardless of how many innocent people had to make up the numbers.
Still, it didn’t bode well for him. No one knew he was down here. In fact, only one person knew he was even in the city. Would Gaius realise what had happened when Merlin didn’t return to his chambers or would he presume his new ward had tired of the city already and fled to the surrounding countryside? Right now, that didn’t sound like a bad idea.
Despite the sobs coming from the cells next to his, despite the fear that he would accidentally get burnt the following morning, Merlin still managed to fall asleep.
Only to be awoken what felt like minutes later by the door clanging. He didn’t move, assuming some unfortunate soul was about to join him.
“You really are a complete idiot, aren’t you?”
The voice was familiar and Merlin looked up to see Gaius standing there, hands on his hips and a disapproving look on his face.
“How did you-,”
“Come on. Unless you want to still be here at dawn?”
Merlin didn’t need to be told twice. He followed the physician out of the cell, torchlight guiding them as they hurried back up the stairs. Merlin shivered.
“You were supposed to keep your head down,” Gaius chided. “What were you thinking?”
“They arrested that woman for no reason!” Merlin protested. He didn’t admit that he hadn’t done anything wrong. As that meant admitting he hadn’t done anything, and that wasn’t something he was proud of right now.
“Keep your voice down,” Gaius hissed, glancing around. “You do not want to draw attention right now.”
Neither of them spoke until they reached his chambers again. Merlin didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say, so stalked up to his new room, throwing himself down on the bed. The slow footsteps behind told him Gaius was coming up as well.
“Camelot isn’t usually like this,” he said slowly. “If you’d arrived a week, even two days ago, you’d have been met with a bustling city and her citizens, for the most part, happy. The prince’s murder is bad enough. By being killed by magic has just reignited all of Uther’s fears and anger. He wants revenge yet the murderer is already dead.”
“But they’re innocent people down there!” Merlin protested. “Surely he can’t wish to execute his own people?”
“I think what the king wants right now is to change fate. And he knows he can’t. So he’s doing what he sees as the only option left open to him. You’re lucky they didn’t give you a beating as well.”
“Yeah,” Merlin scoffed, “lucky.”
Gaius patted him on the shoulder. “Perhaps it’s best if you stay here today. It’s not safe for strangers to be wandering around.”
Merlin didn’t have any choice but to agree. He watched the sun rise through the small window, but when the screams and acrid smoke began filling the air, he shut it and turned away, disgusted by his own weakness.
But what could he do? He didn’t have any power or authority; he couldn’t help these people. All he could offer to do was jump into the flames for them and while he wasn’t a coward, Merlin wasn’t sure what good it would do.
He dozed for a while. Then made his way down to Gaius’ main chamber and spent most of the day pacing. The physician was gone but he’d left food and water behind, along with a few notes warning Merlin not to touch certain items due to their ability to ignite or combust. After his sleeve started smoking, Merlin took the rest of the warnings to heart.
He was restless and on edge by the time Gaius arrived. All of his complaints died when he saw the physician, though. Gaius looked every one of his years as he shuffled into the room, head bowed. He didn’t speak as he sank onto the bench but accepted the cup of water gratefully.
“You knew him well, didn’t you?” Merlin said, sitting down opposite him. “The prince?”
“I did,” Gaius said heavily.
“What was he like?”
“Headstrong. Stubborn. Proud. But a dedicated prince who’d do anything for his people. He would’ve been an excellent king one day, with a little guidance. Now, however, that future is snatched from us.”
Merlin didn’t know what to say to that, so he watched the flickering candle for a moment more. When it became obvious that Gaius wasn’t going to speak again, he got to his feet. The only thing Camelot had going for it right now was his new bed. Confined to chambers, Merlin thought he may as well use it.
It was strange being in a room high in the castle surrounded by stone. He’d never noticed the noises of the countryside until they disappeared here. It was silent, nothing to disturb him until Gaius’ loud harumph awakened him the following morning.
Merlin woke with a start to see the old man standing at the foot of his bed, scowling at him. “For someone with so few belongings, how have you made such a mess?” he scolded.
Merlin gave his best innocent shrug, one that still worked on his mother. “It just happened.”
“Get dressed,” Gaius said, throwing a shirt at him. “We’ve got somewhere to bed.”
His tone was curt and grumpy. Merlin thought he looked tired, as if something had been disturbing him throughout the night. Following him down the stairs, Merlin wrote it off as the pressure of the last week. It can’t have been easy losing someone you’d cared for since they were a baby.
There was no time to stop for breakfast. Merlin followed Gaius out of the doors and through the castle. He hesitated when he recognised where they were.
“What are we doing here? Are you throwing me back in jail?”
“After the strings I pulled to get you released the first time? No, Merlin. Come on.”
All he could do was trail Gaius down the steps, shivering in the cool air. The cells were quiet and not even the guards were present. Merlin wondered out loud where everyone was.
“The entire kingdom is ordered to attend the burnings,” Gaius said curtly. He picked up a torch and went, not further into the cells, but down a corridor sloping even further into the ground. Bemused, Merlin dutifully went after him.
The cavern they entered was huge. Merlin could only gape, forgetting the cold, as he stared around.
“I know you’re here,” Gaius called. “Given that you’ve been calling me all night. Well, I’m here. And I brought the boy.”
Merlin stared. There was no one here. It wasn’t exactly a hospitable place either: who would live down here?
Then he got his answer.
In a rush of air that sent the torch flickering, something moved in the darkness. Something impossibly large and just impossible...
Merlin stumbled back, aware his mouth was hanging open. It couldn’t be, but it was, only that was impossible, yet...
“Is that a dragon?”
“How observant you are, for one not fully himself.”
Merlin was pretty certain if the cave wall hadn’t been behind him, he would’ve actually fallen over.
“It speaks?”
“It is a he,” the dragon rumbled, “who has a name, although not one he will gift to a broken child.”
“I’m not a child!” Merlin protested, then the full sentence caught up with him. “And I’m not broken, thank you very much.”
“Why did you call me here?” Gaius said wearily. “Now is not the time for me to be caught down here. Uther wouldn’t care how long I’ve kept his secrets.”
“Uther does not concern me,” the dragon said. “You failed to protect the prince. But it is of no matter.”
“No matter?” Gaius drew himself up, but the weariness still pressed down on him, lessening the effect somewhat. “Arthur is dead! That matters: that means everything.”
“No, it does not. For this is not how things were meant to be.”
“You don’t say.”
“Hang on,” Merlin interrupted. “Why am I broken?”
He was both insulted and offended. He knew he didn’t have a lot going for him, but that felt a pretty harsh thing to say to someone you’ve just met. Or something – he wasn’t sure how dragons classified themselves.
A low rumble made him wonder if the cave was about to fall in. It would be just his luck it would happen right now while he was standing in it. Then he realised it was the dragon laughing.
“You often wish for something you feel is lacking?” it – he – asked.
Merlin glanced quickly at Gaius. How could he admit that he sometimes wished he had magic so that he could fix things? Now, when so much hatred and fear were flying around because of one sorcerer. But his look seemed to say enough, for the dragon made a humming noise in the back of his throat.
“Your destiny has been stolen from you, young warlock.”
Gaius flinched. “Don’t call him that. Not now, not ever. The danger it puts him in! Why would you even say that?”
“Because it is what he is. Who he is. The threads of fate cannot be so easily unwoven by a mere mortal.”
When Merlin glanced at Gaius again, it was to find his new mentor looking as baffled as he felt. The dragon suddenly rose up onto his back legs, wings beating.
“Things will be made right again,” he declared.
Before Merlin could do anything, the dragon opened its mouth. A glow emanated from the deep within its jaws and it angled its head towards Merlin-
“Hey!” There was nowhere for Merlin to go. His heart thudded painfully and his chest heaved as he stared up. He thought he’d escaped the pyres, but to be roasted inside a cave...
It wasn’t fire that came from the dragon though. A golden mist twisted around Merlin, suffusing him in a surprising warmth. It was comforting even as he felt the power snake under his skin, flooding his body.
“Wha-?” he murmured, then toppled into oblivion.
Merlin struggled against the cords binding his wrists.
Wait...
He was in the clearing. Arthur was similarly tied... Arthur!
He was alive. For some reason, Merlin felt that was of the utmost importance, even more than usual. Like he’d lost him at some point.
He knew the prince wanted him to bide his time. If they could talk the man down, find a peaceful resolution, it would be better for everyone. Better for their captor, as Merlin’s magic and Arthur’s sword wouldn’t end him, but also better for Arthur. It was hard to start building a foundation for a kingdom where magic was accepted when every magic user still forced him to kill them just to stay alive himself.
Merlin’s magic didn’t tend to do very well at talking people down.
But as he twisted in his bonds, Merlin couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of de-ja-vu. He’d done this before. And it hadn’t ended well....
The sorcerer was murmuring to himself. Arthur was warning him not to get involved.
Merlin ignored them both.
He didn’t untie the rope: he split it with one word, immediately pulling his hands in front of him.
“You don’t want to do this,” he told the man, his voice steady as he walked forward.
“You’re a servant,” the sorcerer spat. “You can’t stop me.”
“Actually, I can.” Merlin let the apology for what was about to happen filter into his tone. “And I will. You see, I really can’t let you hurt him, and for some reason, I feel like sacrificing myself-,”
“ Mer lin!”
“- just won’t work this time,” he finished, ignoring Arthur. “So, I need you to stop, before anyone gets hurt.”
“Never!”
Merlin sighed. “When I say anyone, I meant you.”
Without further warning, he shot his hands forward, both palms facing towards the man. A silent whoosh of wind tore through the clearing and whatever counterspell the man tried to shriek was lost as the force slammed into him. He was lifted bodily into the air and sent hurtling across the clearing. Merlin winced as he hit a tree, but couldn’t deny he was relieved when the man didn’t get up again.
Swiping his hand through the air, he cut the ropes binding Arthur.
“You’re welcome.”
“I had it under control,” Arthur said. “We’re supposed to be talking to them, not throwing them through the air.”
Merlin shrugged. “I did warn him.”
“Honestly, Merlin, no one is going to run screaming from a warning from you.”
Merlin grinned. “You never know.”
He didn’t want to admit that a Druid would. Anyone who knew his true name wouldn’t underestimate his threats. But that wasn’t important right now.
“I’m just really glad you’re alive,” he said softly.
“It was one sorcerer; we’ve dealt with worse.”
Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it, but... It’s good you’re alive.”
Arthur gave him that look that suggested he thought Merlin might be losing his mind.
“Right. Well. I’m glad to be alive, too. We should get home before you throw anyone else into trees.”
“You should visit Gaius,” Merlin said. “I think he’d like that. You mean a lot to him.”
“Are you sure that sorcerer didn’t hit you with some sort of spell? You’re being weird.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Stranger than usual, then,” Arthur said. He nudged him companionably before turning and walking off into the forest as if they hadn’t just been attacked. “Come on, then.”
“Yes, Sire,” Merlin said, but Arthur didn’t react to the sarcasm. Hurrying after his prince, Merlin cast the unconscious man one last look over his shoulder.
Why did it feel like this man had succeeded when so many others failed?